#knuckles x (platonic!) reader

[limethefirst]

Mutual Understanding

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x reader (platonic)

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers, mentions of death, trauma bonding lol!!!

summary: as the assistant in training for Stone, you’re tasked with keeping an eye on the black and red haired hedgehog

a/n: just watched sonic 3, I love it so much I immediately wrote this as soon as I got home, please enjoy and go watch it as soon as possible (I LOVE YOU SHADOW AUAGHH)

You watched as Stone left the Crab, running a quick errand so he could finish the suits he was making for Robotnik and his grandfather Gerald. You had a strange feeling about him and you could tell Stone did too but as assistants all you could do was brush it aside.

As Stone left you looked towards your right, Shadow stood near you his eyes staring at where your mentor was standing only moments ago, before his head tilted to glance at you. His eyes scanned you, as you scanned him back, you knew what he was capable of, you were warned but you couldn’t help but keep looking.

Shadow held his gaze on you before he turned away, looking at the television still playing in the background, the telenovela now capturing his attention.

You watched him as he stared ahead. Deciding you had nothing else to do, you sat down on the floor, not daring to get near Dr Robotniks chair, knowing he’d notice if it was moved even a centimeter. A sigh escaped your lips as whatever was going on in the strange show kept going on, you tried to get into it but it felt too generic for you.

“Why are you here,” Was the first thing you’d heard him say. You perked up at his sudden question, this was the first time since you’d met him that shadow had talked to you.

“What?” You asked him, curious as to what he meant.

He looked back at you, no longer paying attention to the show, “I asked why are you here”

You slightly raised a brow still somewhat confused, “Well I’m uh- an apprentice here so it’s like kinda my job?” You shrugged at the hedgehog, slightly raising your arms.

Shadow didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. The room settled into an uncomfortable silence as Shadow continued to just stare at you.

Nervously you glanced around the room, not out of fear but just confusion as to what he even meant.

“Are you alone?”

“What.” You asked, deadpanning at the straightforward question, “Obviously not-“

“No” Shadow cut you off, “Why are you with them?”

You knew who he was referring to, Stone and Robotnik. Obviously they weren’t your parents, it was easy to see from the way they treated you. Stone was kind but he wasn’t very parental, he was more of a teacher. Robotnik was definitely not parental, he was more like a demanding boss who didn’t give his workers equal pay.

“They’re all I have,” you bluntly responded to the hedgehog, as you slowly brought your legs closer to you.

Noticing the uncomfortable feeling you were getting Shadows gaze somewhat fell, maybe it was empathy or something else that you couldn’t quite understand.

Nervously you fiddled with the necklace around your neck, a two little star emblems given to you by your late mother.

Shadows eyes widened, he stepped closer to you trying to get a glimpse at the necklace. You looked up at him, an arm around your legs, the other gripping the necklace tight.

“You like?” You asked him, noticing how his legs uncontrollably moved him closer to you. His gaze was still fixed on it, as if he was remembering, “My mom gave this to me before she passed, she loved the stars, I do too honestly.”

He slowly sat down in front of you, both of you now looking at each other. Slightly noticing his distress you hesitantly took off the necklace, passing it to him so he could get a closer look. You knew he wouldn’t take it, of course you’d just met him but it felt as if you two had known each other before.

The necklace was silver, it was nicely kept; obviously cleaned regularly although it was a bit too small for you by now but that didn’t seem to stop you from wearing it. On it were two stars, one big star and another smaller star, it looked as if they were shining, but one was brighter than the other.

“A light still shines even though the star is gone,” You mumbled looking at the necklace in Shadows hands. His gaze quickly snapped up, his usual angry demeanor faltering to show a small look of shock.

“What?..” Shadow asked, as he looked between you and the necklace.

You laid on your back, your knees up letting out a sigh, “It’s just, you know something I like to say when I think about her,”

Shadow got up from his sitting position, he walked over to your side, handing you the necklace back as he laid down next to you. There were no stars inside the Crab, just a bunch of machine and technology that you truly didn’t understand half of.

There was a comfortable silence now, as you two laid down next to each other; Shadow sighed, for the first time it sounded like he was free, like the demons from his past were no longer attacking his every thought.

He turned his head to look at you, “You remind me of her,”

Snapping out of your trance you looked back at him, eyebrows slightly raised, “Who?” You asked, your tone soft as to not startle him.

His gaze was, soft, no longer angry at the world, maybe at himself, you really couldn’t tell, “Someone I used to know a long time ago,”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, “She sounds nice,” you said, looking back towards the roof of the contraption.

Shadow still looked at you, you were no Maria, but you made him rethink; that maybe, maybe the world isn’t as bad as he thought it was, maybe there were people worth saving.

“She was.”

[your-local-simp-writers]

Home in the Chaos

Word Count: 1024

Warnings: None

Sonic the Hedgehog x Fem! Reader

Note- You are human for this one, and their relationship is more platonic. Also this takes place during the movie timeline!

Also yall should check our our latest poll ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The cozy living room of the Wachowski household was a whirlwind of activity. Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic were abuzz with energy as you tried to keep up. As Jojo’s babysitter and the honorary fourth member of this ragtag group, your days were anything but ordinary. Between Tails' tech experiments, Knuckles' newfound obsession with braiding, and Sonic's endless antics, you often found yourself being pulled in every direction.

Today was no different. Knuckles sat behind you on the couch, his large hands clumsily attempting to braid your hair with an intensity that could rival a championship match. "I do not understand why humans have so much hair," he grumbled, his brows furrowed. "It is like battling a wild beast."

You laughed, glancing over at Tails, who was sprawled out in front of you as you gently brushed his fluffy tails. "It's not that bad, Knuckles. And Tails, hold still—you keep twitching!"

“Does this hurt?” you asked, pulling through a particularly stubborn knot.

Tails winced slightly but shook his head. “Nope! Just tickles a little. But thanks for helping—I’ve been meaning to take better care of them. Gotta stay aerodynamic, you know?”

Knuckles, sitting behind you on the couch, furrowed his brow in concentration as he fumbled with a section of your hair. “Braiding is no simple task,” he declared, his tone serious. 

You laughed, glancing over your shoulder. “You’re doing great, Knux. Just… maybe don’t pull so tight?”

“Noted,” he said solemnly, adjusting his grip.

Across the room, Sonic was perched on the armrest of the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. “Hey, Y/N,” he called, leaning forward. “when you’re done playing hairdresser, how about we do something fun? I’ve got this really cool idea we should try—”

 “Just a minute, Sonic,” you said, not looking up from Tails’ fur.

Sonic froze mid-step, the ball caught in his gloved hand. His ears drooped slightly as he flopped onto the armrest of the couch, kicking his legs lazily. “Sure. No rush,” he muttered, but the slump in his posture betrayed his disappointment.

Knuckles glanced at Sonic, his crimson face betraying a rare flicker of sympathy. “The blue one grows restless. Perhaps we should take him on a hunt?”

“A hunt for what, Knuckles?” Tails asked, clearly amused.

Knuckles puffed out his chest. “For purpose!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe we’ll plan something after I finish here, okay?”

...

As the day wore on, you found yourself in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches and snacks for everyone. The kitchen was warm and alive, the aroma of freshly chopped herbs mingling with the distant hum of conversation and laughter spilling in from the living room. Tails’ excited rambling about his latest gadget punctuated Knuckles’ booming declarations, and every now and then, a peal of laughter rippled through the air. It was the kind of noise that made the house feel less like walls and more like a heart—beating, alive, and full.

Sonic lingered near the counter, his hand idly drumming against its edge. His usual easy grin was there, but you noticed the subtle edge to it—like he was trying to hold something back.

“Need help?” he asked casually, though the slight upward tilt of his voice betrayed him.

“Sure,” you replied, pointing toward the stack of plates. “Can you grab those for me?”

In a flash, he zipped across the room, the plates balanced precariously in his arms as he stopped so close that you had to catch yourself against the counter.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, your laugh breaking the momentary surprise.

“Sorry!” Sonic said quickly, his ears flattening as he shuffled back a step. His usual cocky demeanor faltered, replaced by a sheepish glance your way.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, your laugh softening. “Just… maybe slow down a bit?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his hand brushing over the white band of his glove. “Yeah… sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Sonic hopped onto one of the kitchen chairs, the bounce in his step noticeably missing. He swung his legs slightly, his eyes avoiding yours as he fiddled with his gloves, the silence settling between you.

“You alright?” you asked, tilting your head to get a better look at his face.

He hesitated, his fingers pausing mid-fidget. “It’s just… I don’t know,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “I guess I feel like I’m kinda… left out sometimes.”

The confession hit you like a weight, and you felt your chest tighten. Setting the knife down, you pulled a chair next to him, your movement slow and deliberate.

“Sonic, I’m so sorry,” you said softly, your hand resting gently on his arm. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He shrugged, though the gesture lacked its usual confidence. When he finally looked at you, his green eyes were unguarded, vulnerable in a way that felt rare and precious.

“I know you don’t mean to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… Tails has all his gadgets, and Knuckles has his whole ‘warrior thing.’ Sometimes it feels like… like I don’t really fit anywhere.”

The ache in his words settled heavily in the space between you. You leaned forward, squeezing his arm gently.

“Sonic,” you said, your voice firm yet kind, “you’re just as important as Tails and Knuckles. You don’t have to have gadgets or a warrior thing to matter. You’re you. And I care about you—just as much as them. You’re family to me.”

He blinked, his eyes wide as if the words caught him off guard. Slowly, a small, genuine smile spread across his face.

“Really?” he asked, his voice tentative but hopeful.

“Really,” you affirmed with a nod. “And families? They don’t pick favorites.”

He grinned then, the kind of grin that made his eyes light up and the room feel just a bit brighter. Without a word, he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you in a hug that was both spontaneous and deeply sincere.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You hugged him back, your hand rubbing small circles on his back. “Anytime, Blue Blur,” you replied, your smile mirroring his.

[slimyalienfreak]

Hi I was wonder if I request tom wachowski with a goth sister and she comes and visits and the trouble trio absolutely LOVE HER because she’s so sweet 🥺

Tom Wachowski with a goth sister

Hey there thanks for the ask!

Honestly I’ve been feeling like shit for the past couple of days so seeing this ask actually put me in a better mood. Hope you enjoy it ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: Not mention but reader is referenced to be female

Warning: ⚠️Slight mentions of Tails and Knuckles backgrounds in the second movie⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Tom + Maddie + Sonic + Tails + Knuckles

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Poster belongs to Sega and the people who created the Sonic movie + Banner by adorbbs (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Let’s start this off with Tom absolutely loves you, your his sister of course he does. He doesn’t care what you look like or what you do, he's going to support you all the way just like you did for him growing up and defend you from anyone who bullies you about your style. Of course he’s not going to get physical because he’s not really that type of person but he’ll definitely give them a talking to.

- You two often like to hang out when you both have the time with him being a cop and all. Since you often like to come visit him this means that you get to see Maddie a lot as well and she absolutely loves you as well. She’s definitely impressed with your style and absolutely loves it. I feel like she’ll definitely hype you up about what you wear. She also really appreciates your kindness and how you are willing to help her with some stuff.

- Now onto the trio:

- For Sonic I have a feeling you’ve met him some point near the end of the first movie. At first you two were surprised with each other. You were surprised because there was this random creature who claimed to be a hedgehog standing in front of you and was talking to you. If it wasn’t for Tom and Maddie managing to calm you down you honestly thought you were hallucinating. As for Sonic he was mostly surprised yet interested in you. Like sure he’s seen some interesting people when he was totally not stalking the town of green hills but you're different. He honestly admires you in a way. And to think that your ‘Donut lords’ sister just makes it even cooler.

- He definitely opens up to you quickly, this is mostly because of how you are around him. You treat him so nicely despite him clearly being different from you. If you’ve seen the second movie he considers Tom like a father to him and I like to think that maybe he considers you as an aunt. He also may or may not called you aunt one time when you visited him and yes he may have gotten teased by Tom about it but honestly you didn’t even mind. You're just glad that he feels that comfortable around you that he called you that.

- He definitely asked you if he could try on some clothes and of course you let him. Although they clearly didn’t fit him due to the size difference between you two but honestly he didn’t care, he’s having fun with it and may even give you a little fashion show while he’s at it.

- For Tails and Knuckles they’re kind of similar. Both of them met you at some point after the second movie. They mostly likely met you when you decided to catch up with the other three unaware of tails and knuckles. As soon as they heard the door open and to Sonic happily going over to you excited to see you with Tom and Maddie following behind him of course they got curious and when they saw you they were immediately surprised.

- For Tails I feel like he’d be a little caught off guard when he first saw you. He wasn’t scared of you of course but just like Sonic he hasn’t really seen anyone like you. But despite the initial surprise from him he actually kind of admires you. He really likes how you're open about your style and not really caring about what people think about it. He really appreciates that.

- Again just like Sonic he opens up to you quickly as well. Maybe even quicker than sonic. Since he didn’t really have anyone back on his planet seeing how kind you were to not only him but other people makes him kind of want to be around you 24/7. He really likes it when you visit.

- When you do visit over he really likes to show you his gadgets that he created and hearing you saying how cool it looks and how smart he is he couldn’t help but feel really happy that you enjoy them. If you're willing to listen he’ll explain in a lot of detail about them, even if you don’t really understand certain terms he’s saying. Seeing that you're listening to him explain it is enough for him. Maybe if he has the time he might make something for you. As a way of saying thank you.

- For Knuckles as mentioned in some of my previous posts, it takes him a while to open up to people even if they’re the kindest person in the world he’ll have trouble opening up to them. If you consider his backstory in the second movie it’s honestly understandable why. But despite this he’s actually really interested in you. Unlike Tails who may be caught off guard or for Sonic who was initially surprised when first meeting you, Knuckles surprisingly took an interest in you. But despite this he’s still a bit cautious of you so he kind of admires you from a distance. Eventually Tom notices this and somehow manages to convince Knuckles in one way or another to talk with you. This then eventually leads to him being more open around you.

- He’s kind of the same like Tails when it comes to being around you. He’s definitely very attached to you although not as open compared to Tails but still it’s kind of obvious that he is even if he doesn’t directly say it to you. Due to this he can be protective over you. If someone even dares look at you the wrong way or comments on your looks he’ll tear one into them before you eventually have to take him somewhere else.

- I feel like after hanging out with you just like Sonic he kind of sees you like an aunt due to you being related to Tom and how kind you are to him. Maybe accidentally called you aunt as well and Sonic may have teased him for it but quickly gets shut down but Tom when he said he did the exact same thing.

- Overall, although they show it differently all of them really appreciate you.

———————————

[voonroo]

↘︎Masterlist

⌐ Sonic The Hedgehog —➤

⌐ Sonic → [I do not follow a specific iteration]

I'm working on a little personal project with @starlight1801 go check out their blog for information!!

SONIC

~

SHADOW

Tea Time — WC: 460 — Shadow

Confidence Is Key — WC: 245 — Shadow

SILVER

~

KNUCKLES

~

MULTIPLE

Human Bayonetta Reader — WC: 271 — Sonic, Shadow, Silver

[guillotinesandroses]

Washed Ashore - Chapter 2; Ex-Colleagues

Platonic Sonic Boom x Ex-Villain!Reader.

Washed Ashore Masterlist

The sun flashes its gentle, yellow rays upon your form as you stroll through the beach. A cool ocean breeze keeps your mind fresh as the warm sand tickles your feet with each step. Two tropical birds sung and dance within the rich green leaves of a tree, concealed by flowers in full bloom. All in all, the day is shaping out to be absolutely beautiful. 

If only the entire walk to Sonic's house had not consisted of one girl bothering the life out of you. However, for the sake of keeping the situation civil, you are rendered incapable of responding like you want to, that being smacking the nuisance into next Tuesday. You do not have anything against her, but she certainly could quit shoving her finger in your face every five seconds. 

"Who do you work for? The government? Aliens? The robot overlords?!" Sticks sticks her finger repeatedly onto your cheek.

You are about to roll your eyes for the sixth time during that walk before the finger slips into one of them. "Ow!" 

"Sticks, stop poking (Name)! It's impolite," Amy scolds. 

"Hey, chill, Knuckelina! I'm sure it was just an accident!" 

"I'm starting to regret becoming your sidekick," Amy mumbles. 

"Is it the name?" Knuckles asks, "it's gotta be the name, since I'm such an awesome boss. Don't worry, I can come up with something else! Like..." 

"Can't I just keep my own name?" 

"But that wouldn't be good for the brand!" 

"What brand?" 

"Wait, uh, what were we talking about again?" 

"We're here," you state. Like you had hoped, Sticks quits bothering you but sends you an 'I'm watching you' gesture. You just sigh as Amy knocks on the door. 

Sonic swings the door open with a yawn. You glance at him with a raised brow, it is unusal of him to be so low on energy. The reason for his exhaustion becomes evident when the resident self-proclaimed evil genius arises from the bathroom in his pink clothing. 

"Eggman?!" Knuckles raises his fists up. Sticks retreats with a hiss while Amy gets into a fighting stance. Sonic stands to the side, oddly unbothered by the situation. 

"Oh, hey gang! Didn't know you'd be visiting so early! I'm still in my evil pajamas! They've got a trapdoor on the back!" 

"Too much information already," you mutter. 

"What's he doing here?" Knuckles asks. 

"We have a truce. Tails is letting him stay here until his lair is rebuild," Sonic explains. 

"Ahem! Still waiting on that salmon eggs benedict!" Eggman calls out. 

"Coming, coming!" Tails hurries to serve the elaborate breakfast. 

"I asked for egg whites. These are yellows! See the yellow? I'm trying to watch my cholesterol! And this salmon is farm raised! What is this, prison?" 

"What kind of prison have you been to? Not a single one where I've been has ever served salmon." You cross your arms with envy. 

"It's all part of some evil plot, man! First he lures us into some terrible roommate ploy, but then wham! Out comes his fifty foot obliterator-bot and obliterates us all! We've gotta get out of here!" Sticks shakes Knuckles, who barely budges. 

"Guys, we have to help him," Amy says, "if we don't, we'll be no better than he is!" 

"Yeah! You'll be no better than I am!" Eggman yells and digs into his salmon eggs benedict, which he was complaining so loudly about before. 

"Think about how this is for him!" Amy approaches him. "Do you feel scared without a home? Do you feel alone? Are you eating your feelings?" 

"Somebody get her away from me." He recoils. 

Your head tilts. "Eh? How does not helping the guy who destroys the village on a weekly basis make us just as bad as the guy who, you know, destroys the village on a weekly basis?" 

"If anything, we'd be doing a huge favor to the villagers by throwing him to the streets! And to ourselves, since he'd be too busy rebuilding his lair to attack!" You sketch out the plan and swiftly and show it to the others, most of whom nod in thought. 

"(Name)! Heroes help people in need. Currently, Eggman needs a place to stay at. Kicking him out would be cruel," Amy scolds. 

"What? I'm just being practical!" 

"As much as I hate to agree with the scheming, diabolical government spy, (Name) is right! This is all just a ploy to get us to let our guards down! You can't trick me!" Sticks shouts. 

She then turns around to face a full-body mirror and screams. "The second dimension has stolen my image! Come! Help me get rid of this impostor!" 

Amy walks up to you, distracting you from the badger attempting to break a mirror. "Don't do it, Sticks! That's seven years of bad luck!" Tails yells from the background while Sonic tries to wrestle her away from the fragile glass, grumbling under his breath about how stupid the entire day has been. 

"Come on, give him a chance." Amy lays a hand on your shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe staying here will inspire him to redeem himself, just like you have!" 

"Yeah, I'll definitely start thinking about redemption," he draws the word out. In spite of his obvious sarcasm Amy looks at him with pride, causing you to deadpan. 

"(Name) the Sword Wielder, right?" He turns his attention to you. "You used to be quite a big name in the old days. I am terribly sorry I didn't recognise you last week. Being a hero seems to have made you lose your presence." 

Your expression does not twitch at his words. "That's rich coming from a low-tier villain." 

"Low-tier?! Excuse me-" 

"The only reason I know you is because we share- used to share- a common enemy," you correct yourself, "of course I looked into potential allies back then- no matter how little assistance they could provide." 

Eggman stands up from the table. "Why, you- I'm going to-" 

"That's enough, you two!" Amy steps in between you and Eggman. "(Name), stop being rude. And Eggman, stop provoking (Name). Alright, now both of you apologise." 

"I wasn't being rude! I was being honest!" 

"And I'm just showing my disappointment in the fact that (Name) would abandon the honorable occupation of villainy to hang out with you goons-" Eggman clears his throat. "I mean, I'm just asking, since you were so good at your job, why quit?" 

"Decided to change things up. I hardly see how that's any of your business." 

"There we go! See, now you're communicating your feelings to each other constructively! Isn't this the best? Now, for the apologies!" Amy exclaims. 

"Alright, I'll be the mature one and go first. I am sorry for judging your life decisions and saying you have no presence." Eggman apologises but mutters something under his breath about meaning everything he said. 

"And (Name)?" 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you respond, "...I am sorry for calling you low-tier." 

Amy interlaces her fingers together and fawns over the display of successful apologies and communication. With her distracted, you take the opportunity to take back your words. 

"He's mid at best," you mutter. Sonic snorts and bites back a laugh. The two of you share knowing grins before turning back to the conversation. 

"I still don't trust him! He's brought those robots of destruction with him too! He has them at all times! He cannot be trusted!" Sticks screeches. 

"Oh, please. The only damage those two bumbling idiots could cause is done on accident." Eggman speaks as the robots bump into each other repeatedly. "Trust me, I've tried to make them more effective. Never works." 

"Last night's storm wasn't even that bad. How do we even know his lair truly is destroyed?" You ask. 

"I know I'm the one who originally let him in, but if drinks one more of my energy drinks, I-" Sonic gets cut off by Tails, the owner of the house. 

"Guys, if Eggman needs to stay, he can stay. Who knows? Maybe he might not be so bad after all," Tails says. 

The gang looks expectantly at you, Sonic and Sticks. She lets out a hiss at the attention, Sonic groans out a 'fine' and you roll your eyes. 

"Whatever. Sure, let him stay," you grumble in defeat, "but don't be surprised when he attacks while you're at your lowest. Game recognises game; I know he's up to something!" You wave off the situation and step out of the hut. 

"(Name) may have given up the fight against the machine, but I won't! I never will!" Sticks hisses, "you will see! Soon enough he'll turn his ugly coat on you again!" 

Sticks runs out of the house. Eggman yells one last sentence from inside, "hey! I'll have you know, my coats are all VERY FASHIONABLE!" 

You and Sticks walk together for a couple of steps without saying a word. The atmosphere growsa bit tense as you try to sneak some glances at her to figure out whether it'd be good to say something or not. 

"Don't you look at me that way! This doesn't mean anything." Sticks stops walking and crosses her arms.

"Even though I'm glad you've got enough common sense to see through Eggman's half-baked lies, you are still nothing but a con artist! Nothing else!" Sticks points at you and speeds off into the woods. 

You sigh yet again as she runs away. From the very beginning of your attempt at redemption, you could always tell it would take the longest to earn her approval. However, you cannot take much offense to it, since she barely seems to even trust her friends. 

The following day, you follow Amy to go check up on Tails and Sonic. 

"Thanks for taking the time to play FP with me again this morning! But really, I'm going to be fine. As adorable as it is, you didn't need to escort me here," she says. 

"Yes, I know you can fight, I didn't doubt that. But it's always good to have backup in battles if possible in case something unpredictable happens," you reply. 

"Are you doubting Eggman again? Come on, let's give him a chance! You of all people should know how important second chances are!" 

"That applies only when there's a reason to believe he's willing to change! If he's just here because his lair is broken, that doesn't make him a good person! Just a bad guy on a leash!" 

"Oh, relax! I'm sure Sonic is going to attest that everything is fine and Eggman has been on his best behavior!" 

But to her dismay, her optimistic assumptions are disproven the moment you two step into the house and sit on the couch to talk with Tails and Sonic. 

"That's it! I've had enough of Eggman! Lair or no lair, he's out of here!" Sonic shouts. 

"You can't just throw Eggman out! Sure, he might be a difficult roommate, but it's only because you guys have a communication problem!" 

"Communication problem? He whacked me with a pillow, hard! I'm dizzy, and I have serious short term memory loss!" Tails pauses. "And I have serious short term memory loss!" 

"Why don't we settle this with a roommate meeting?" 

You roll your eyes and lean back on the couch. At least you do not live there, so you will not need to actively take part in the meeting. You will be there only as a bodyguard in case of a fight breaking out. 

Soon enough, Amy manages to get Eggman to sit on the couch opposite to you, Sonic and Tails, while she herself sits in the middle as the mediator. 

"Now, Sonic, do you have something you'd like to share with Eggman?" She asks. 

"Yes, how do I say this delicately? You're a horrible roommate and no one in this house likes you." 

"Let's frame your statements with 'when you do this', it makes me feel 'this'." 

"When you live here... it makes me feel... angry." Sonic struggles with the new manner of speech for a moment before devolving back to the old reliable one. "Because you're a horrible roommate and no one in this house likes you." 

Eggman is quick to burst into crocodile tears. Sonic shares a look with Tails. 

"You're right! I am the worst roommate," Eggman wails dramatically, "I've never lived with other people before!" 

"What about us?" His yellow robot asks. 

"You don't count," Eggman snaps before continuing to sob. 

Amy turns around to face the other hedgehog. "Sonic, I think someone here could go for two spoonfuls of forgiveness, washed down with a tall glass of friendship. What do you think?" 

"I could go for several spoonfuls of a chocolate banana split, washed down with a tall glass of strawberry milkshake..." you mumble dreamily. 

Amy sends a glare your way. 

"Make that an orange smoothie and I'll totally agree with you," Sonic says. 

"Wanna go grab those later?" 

"You bet. I'm gonna need mountains worth of sweets to get the taste of this dumb situation out of my mouth." 

"What's the situation taste like?" 

"Sleepless nights and feathers. Bleh." Sonic coughs out a singular feather and you gag at the display. 

"Ahem." Amy clears her throat. "As I was trying to say before you two totally ruined my clever figure of speech, someone should go and apologise to Eggman. Right now!" 

"Ugh." Sonic groans, but turns towards the man anyway. "Eggman, if we give you a second chance, will promise to shape up?" 

"You bet!" 

Amy gasps in delight at the progress. "Roommate meeting group hug!" 

Your eyes widen and you jump over the couch, rushing to the door. "Nope."

"(Name), get back here!" Amy yells. 

"Try and make me!" You leave through the open door. 

"(NAME)! JOIN THE GROUP HUG!" 

"OVER MY DEAD BODY, AMY ROSE!" 

However the rest of the day went, you will never know. You spend the rest of it in blissful ignorance of the torment two of your friends are still likely facing, hanging out with Knuckles instead. 

"Now that I think of it, I haven't heard you say much of anything about the current Eggman situation," you remark, "what do you think? Are you with me and Sticks or do you think he can change?" 

"I think there's good in everyone!" Knuckles says enthusiastically while lifting weights. "Even that old lady who always blocks the grocery lines by using pennies to pay!" 

"Now that's devious," you comment. 

"I know, right?" He drops the weights on the ground, shattering a nearby rock. "And I think- wait, uh..." 

Knuckles pauses and scratches his temple. "What were we talking about again?"

"I'm starting to think all those coconuts that fell on your head gave you brain damage." You deadpan. 

"Oh, yeah? Could someone with brain damage do this?"

Knuckles proceeds to run and bash his head into a palm tree. The tree shakes as he rubs his forehead with a whine, only to be knocked out by an avalanche of coconuts, for the fifth time that month. You stroll up to him to see his eyes swirling in his head, but he is at least still breathing normally. 

"Only someone with brain damage would even consider doing that." You poke him with your shoe while he continues to tweak on the ground. 

It does not take long for Knuckles to wake up again, he is a rather durable guy after all. Sometime later, both of you go to your respective homes to sleep, but agree to go check up on Sonic and Tails together the following day. Sticks and Amy join the two of you once you cross paths, leading to you four all visiting Tails at the same time again. 

Knuckles strolls in through the hut's open door. "You're still hanging with Eggman? How many hours of sleep did you get?" 

"Zero," Sonic mumbles. 

"It's stage two of his evil plot, man! We are minutes away from him summoning his big obliterator-bot with its obliterator legs! And it's obliterator teeth!" 

"Sticks, stop being paranoid! Eggman's lived here for two days and he hasn't hatched a single evil scheme!" Amy walks up to Sticks. 

She gets cut off by a loud malicious cackle from outside. You glance at her with an expression that said 'I told you so'. "Two days isn't enough to make someone change, Amy." 

All six of you then rush outside, two of you slower than usual. 

"What's so funny?" Tails asks. 

"Remember how I said my island fortress was destroyed by a storm? I may have... fibbed." Eggman strolls dramatically past the row heroes. Sonic's head droops, as he is on the verge of passing out. 

"You see, I kind of faked the destruction of my fortress as an excuse to live with you and tire you-" Eggman slaps Sonic awake. 

"Tire you to the point of exhaustion!" He finishes once he made sure everyone was listening. "So you'd be too tired to stop Obliteratorbot!" 

A large red robot emerges from behind trees, approaching menacingly and taking a fighting stance. 

"I knew it, he did have an obliterator-bot!" Sticks jumps up and down in front of Knuckles, grabs Amy's shoulders and shakes her. "Why doesn't anyone ever believe me? It's not like I'm paranoid!" 

Sticks then notices her shadow on the ground. "Stop following me!" 

"Enough! Obliteratorbot, destroy Sonic and his four friends!" 

"Four?" 

"Oh, yeah! Five! Ugh, quit recruiting new members! It gets so annoying to keep track of!" 

"Four... tress? Fortress. Destroy fortress. Destroying island fortress" The large robot misunderstands the task. Eggman desperately tries to undo the command, only for it to be further affirmed. Not only that, the robot plays rock music in the background. You hold in a cackle watching from the sidelines, and this time not even Amy scolds you. 

"Sonic, you have to help me!" 

"Why? It's your Obliteratorbot." 

"Because if you don't I'm truly stuck living with you until I build a new island fortress." 

"Let's roll," Sonic says in the most monotone voice you have ever heard from the hedgehog. 

Eggman rushes to his eggmobile while the heroes' group gathers into Tails's plane. He takes off from the ground smoothly enough but drifts off as the plane zipped across the blue ocean. 

"Tails? You doing alright over there?" Knuckles calls called out with no answer. 

You take a glance at him as you sat the the closest to him. He goes limp suddenly and the plane curves down towards the ocean.

"No!" Amy yells. 

"We're gonna crash!" Sticks screeches. 

Biting your lip, you jump up from your seat to grab the wheel. You pull a lever up as high as it can go and manage to narrowly avoid crashing into the bottom of the ocean. The plane gets a bit too vertical and you have to mess with the controls until it finally stabilizes. Even though you sweat the whole way to Eggman's island, the plane drives to a relatively smooth stop on the front of the tower. 

"Whew. Stuck the landing," you mutter to yourself. Leaning your head back, you take a moment to take a deep breath before exiting the plane. The rest of the gang slips out of the vehicle too. 

"Gotta stop 'em... but so... tired..." Tails mutters. 

"Maybe there's a clue on the ground... the soft... soft... bed-like... ground..." Sonic drifts to lay down on the pristine white ground, only for Sticks to rapidly kick him on the back the second he got comfortable. 

"What?! What's wrong? Are we under attack?" He jumps up. He then remembered what was going on and yawned. "Oh, yeah..." 

"Eggman, you built that thing, how do we take it down?" Knuckles asks. 

"By activating two kill-switches at the same time! They're inside the lair! There! And there!" He points at the two switches. 

"Oh, come on..." Sonic whines. "Alright. Amy, Knuckles, Sticks, (Name), distract that metal monstrosity. Tails and I are on the kill-switches. Eggman, you'll have to show us how to activate 'em." 

"Wait, should we really give the most important jobs to the only two in our group about to collapse at any given momen-" you speak up, but get cut off. 

"Pre-mission group hug?" Amy asks. You recoil several feet back and forget what point you were trying to make. 

"No." Sonic refuses and dashes off to complete his mission. 

"Well, lets get to it then." You shrug and pull out two swords from their holsters. The others ready themselves as well. Knuckles raises his fists, Sticks pulls out her boomerang and Amy brings out her hammer. 

The four of you walk up to the massive red metal pile, which is quick to turn its attention to you. Obliteratorbot slices off part of the roof and jumps down from the building in front of the group. 

"I knew you were coming," Sticks growls, "but you will never obliterate Sticks! Because Sticks is unoblitr- unolib- unobliterilly-" she gives up after several tries. 

"You can't kill me," she declares. 

But none of you even get though chance to actually fight. The switches get taken care of faster than anticipated. Sonic rushes in out of nowhere and grabs a fallen piece of metal, knocking the bot's head off while yelling something incomprehensible. 

"I got my swords out for nothing," you mutter. They slide neatly back into their holsters and retreat into the small pocket dimension you pulled them from with a snap of your fingers. 

The lair explodes, triggered by the chemicals from Obliteratorbot's fuel. Eggman falls to his knees with a dramatic scream. 

"Eh, sucks for him." You shrug and walk off with a satisfied smile. 

Sonic speeds next to you with a grin and throws you a fist-bump. "Well said, snookums!" 

Your smile twitches. "I should've waited before putting my swords away." 

"Hah, you couldn't have laid a scratch on me anyway!" 

"Oh, really? Let's test that theory out then-" 

"Guys, stop fighting and let's just get out of here!" Tails shouts from his plane. 

The ride home goes smoothly and as a reward for a job well done, you all decide to treat yourselves by taking a moment to chill at the beach. All of you sit in the warm sand watching the orange sunset, chatting on and off casually, until someone interrupts the lovely moment. 

"Hey, fellas! As you know, my fortress is now a smoking ruin! So, I was wondering, maybe, if I could stay with you guys for a little while, just until its built back?" Eggman asks while settling down onto a beach chair. 

Sonic is quick to grab both the doctor and his bags, taking them right back to his lair. You decide to lay back in the sand lazily while he zooms back and forth before returning for good. 

"Do you think he's going to get lonely being there, all on his own with no home to go to?" Amy wonders out loud. 

"Oh, for sure. You should go and offer your therapy services to him, he seemed to really appreciate how caring you were," Sonic responds. 

"Great idea! I'll go and keep him company!" Amy claps her hands together before heading to the island. Either she was fully oblivious to the sarcasm or ignored it on purpose out of spite. 

Sonic stretches and happily sits down in the sand next to you. "Yo, snookums, still up for getting smoothies later?" 

He uses the dumb nickname again, but unlucky for him, you decided to join him in this stupid game. 

"Oh, of course, honey muffin." 

He sends a glare your way. 

You respond with a smirk. "But, are you sure you don't want to enjoy this newfound peace and quiet for a little longer while it lasts?" 

Sonic takes moment to think about it, then places his arms behind his head and lays down in the sand as well, enjoying the final rays of the setting sun. "Hm, well, I guess it wouldn't hurt." 

[quazart]

(Movie)Knuckles x (platonic!) Reader

A little fic I made on a whim, after discovering that echidnas had pouches.

The Pouch

You stared at the echidna. He stares back, confused by your expression.

"How long?"You ask, not even needing to finish your sentence for him to know what you meant.

"Uh, my entire life? Oh wait, no, apologies. When I was just growing out of my puggle years."

"So, at least, since we've known each other, you've had this?" 

He nods.

Let's rewind. 

You were asked by the Wachowski couple to watch over their sons for a day. Babysit basically. Of course you agreed. Honestly though,  you'd really only need to look after Sonic. Knuckles, the elder of the three brothers, your best friend, was fairly mature for his age. Though, on rare occasions, he can be roped into mischief, almost always by Sonic.

The youngest of the three, Tails, would be going to work with Maddie. Leaving you three alone.

Tom was the first to leave, with Maddie right behind him. The sheriff hugged each of his sons and ruffling the hair on your head before waving goodbye, as he walked out the door. 

The veterinarian was giving you a quick run down on what the boys could and couldn't do. What they could and couldn't eat, etc.

Her final departing words being-

"By the way. Sonic is grounded again. Knuckles already hid his phone to keep him from finding and getting it again. If you see he's got it, just shoot me a text and I'll handle it through a call or when I get home." 

" Yes, ma'am."

You hear Sonic scoff somewhere behind you and  Knuckles.  

Maddie turns away and checks her purse for everything she'll need. "Alright, well I think that's it. Good luck."

You smile and wave bye as she shuts and locks the door behind her and Tails after the kit quickly hugged you and his siblings. Yelling out a goodbye before taking off toward the car in excitement. Ecstatic about joining his mother and visiting all the animals she cares for.

All three of you watching her as she pulls out of the driveway, and drives past the trees, out of sight. 

You and Knuckles turn around but pause as you're suddenly face to face with a certain smug looking hedgehog.

He rocked back and forth on his feet in front of Knuckles. The echidna already knowing what he's planning, gives him an unamused expression. 

"So Big Red? Mind giving me a hint?"

The echidna frowns with a , "No.", and walks away, with you right beside him.

Sonic grabs his arm, trying to stop him, but Knux just keeps on walking, not caring at all. The hedgehog letting himself be dragged by his brother.

"Oh come on, be a pal!" 

Knuckles waves him off and lays back on the couch beside you. His own phone in hand.

"No. I do not want to be your pal. I am already your brother."

"Ugh!"

He suddenly pauses and turns to you. Big puppy dog eyes at their strongest. 

You take the remote in hand and begin flipping through channels on the t.v. 

"Yeah, I don't think so blue."

"But why? Look, how about five minutes?! Just five, I swear."

You and Knux look at each other, with bored expressions on your faces, then back to your electronics.

Both of you answering, "Nah.", at the same time.

Sonic growls in frustration, but then pulls out the big guns. He takes a deep breath and opens his big mouth.

Ten minutes later of on and on chatter, you and Knux were losing your patience with the blue blur.

Knux is the one to finally give in.

"ALRIGHT!!!" He bursts, partially sitting himself up on his elbows.

You sigh and watch the hedgehog smile, thinking he'd won.

You sigh at the nuisance," Oh my gosh! You can be so annoying!"

He smirks,"Hah, well this annoying hedgehog is about to get his phone back-"

Knuckles sits up all the way, interrupting his brother.

"Not so fast. You can have your device back IF, you can find it within the next two minutes.  You may have it back and we will not say a word to mother. You would just need to give it back before anyone arrives home."

Sonic salutes and gets into running position." When you're ready captain!"

Knuckles lays back down and looks at his phone's clock, "I am not a captain. Go."

One minute and thirty seconds later and he's turned the house upside down, with no sign of his phone. 

'Where is it?!.. Wait!!'

He runs to you and snags your phone, quickly dialing his number and calling it.

You quickly lean towards,  "Hey!" But he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait.

You huff and cross your arms.

Knuckles smiles as he watches the clock. Ten seconds left, then he'll have peace and quiet.

"You will not hear it. Mother turned off its volume for this exact reason." He warns, but what he didn't know, was that Maddie had left it on vibrate.

A faint buzzing noise sounds off and Sonic scrambles around for the device, with no sign of it. 

You're confused. It sounds like it's right beside you, but where?

You look at Knux to see him clench his jaw, and lean forward a bit. Only noticable to you, since you were paying attention and sitting right next to him.

He bites his lip and stares towards Sonic's hand. The one holding your phone and suddenly crosses his arms tightly against himself.

'What is up with him?'

Sonic finally notices with five seconds left. The buzzing was coming from, 'his brother?!'

"What the heck Knux! You ate my phone?!"

Your eyebrows raise, and you look at your friend.

Who's trying to keep a straight face like someone just told him the funniest joke or something. Arms tightened against his stomach. 

"Don't be ridiculous." He manages to say through his giggling.

You don't know why he's fighting a laugh, but the sounds he's making make you smile and start to laugh too. He rarely ever laughed, let alone giggle. So his sudden giggles really hit your funny bone. 

"Why are you laughing?" He asks.

"Huh? Well, why are you laughing?"

The phone stops calling, going to voicemail and Knuckles sigh in relief.

He looks toward his brother and grins. "Looks like you lose, hedgehog."

Sonic groans, frustrated by his defeat. He gently tosses the phone beside you on the couch.

"Well how's that fair! How am I supposed to get it from inside your gut!"

Knux scoffs, " It is not inside me. Of all the foolish-."

This time you call Sonic's phone. The vibrating starts again, making Knuckles sit up with a grunt, and catches himself before a chuckle could escape him.

You and Sonic look at each other, then back to your friend.

That's when Knuckles finally shows you guys. 

He removes his arms from his stomach and raises a hand over it, before reaching into-?! He had a hidden pocket on his stomach?!

Bringing his hand back out, he'd retrieved Sonic's phone, holding it infront of him with a smirk.

Both you and Sonic stared at the phone, then to Knuckles' stomach, where the pouch hid very well because of his fur. 

Knuckles face contorted into one of confusion.

"What?"

And now were back to the present.

"You've had this and you didn't think to tell me!" You grabbed his shoulders and shook him a bit.

"Why would I?! I do not see how having a pouch would be so important as to inform you about it." He said between shakes.

"Dude, this is awsome, you have a body pocket! How is that not important information! What else can you do, or have!"

His mouth is agape still confused by your sudden interest in him because of something as simple as a pouch. A blush covers his muzzle.

"Uh..."

With this distraction, Sonic swipes his phone from the echidna's grip and takes off with a maniacal laugh.

"Haha, sucker! Catch me if you can!"

Knuckles instantly breaks out of his stupor and takes off after him.

"Sonic!!!"

Leaving you thinking of all the awsome and helpful uses he could use his pouch for. He was like a little kangaroo!

You hear something get knocked over and you suddenly remember why you're here.

To watch the brothers so nobody gets hurt and nothing gets damaged. But now that you think about it, even if you tried, you doubt you'd be able to catch up to them. Or have the strength to pull them apart if you could!

Then you have an idea.

"Ha, what was that knucklehead?"

"Why you foul-!"

(*beeeeeeeep* *beeeeeeeep*-)

They both freeze where they are, the sound of somebody calling on their phone with the speaker on. And, as soon as the voice on the other side answers, the boys are suddenly back on the couch. Knuckles holding Sonic's phone and shoving it back in his pouch.

A few seconds before. 

"Hey, (y/n) , how's everything. The boys giving you trouble?" 

Before you could answer, stumbling and grunts echo in the house, getting louder til your two friends are on either side of you, silent. Gazing ahead at the t.v. with blank expressions. You catch Knuckles shoving Sonic's phone back into his pouch. 

"No. No, everything's fine. Just checking up with you, is all. "

"Oh, well thanks hun...And boys?" Her voice grew scary as she addressed the brothers. They both stiffen, knowing she knew they'd done something they shouldn't have. 

"Behave."

"Yes, mom!"

"Yes, mother!"

You say bye to Maddie and hang up.

Your friends glance at you, but quickly are back to the screen when you notice. 

"That wasn't fair. " Sonic pouts.

You shrug." Life's not fair. And besides, how fair do your powers make it for me to babysit you two?"

He grumbles and crosses his arms. 

You look back at your best friend, who was currently laying back on the couch again. Having relaxed since your call to his mom. You pick up where you left off.

Leaning back and holding your head in one hand.

"So?"

He blinks and looks at you, "So...what?"

"What other secrets have you been hiding from me?"

He sits up on his elbows and squints at you, "Why do you insist, so much, in learning about me?"

You shrug, " It's just interesting, and cool. What's the harm in wanting to learn more about my best friend?"

He hums," Nothing, I suppose. And we are friends afterall.. Alright."

"Yes!"

He lays back down and rests his head in his folded arms, behind him.

"First of all, it is called a pouch, not a pocket, as you mentioned before. Its original purpose is to hold and incubate a puggle before and after hatching. For however long their parents can hold their weight, until their spines had almost fully grown in or until they can walk on their own-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hatching? You came from an egg?" Sonic had interrupted his brother,  honestly surprised by this fact. 

"Of course I hatched, what other way is there?"

The hedgehog turns red, and looks to you for help.

You awkwardly cough into your hand and pat Knux on his arm. "I'll ask Maddie to tell you later. Please, continue. "

"Hmm. Anyways, as far as I can remember,  I don't recall a pouch ever being used for anything else, as it feels strange carrying things in it. I had never used it before, until recently. When mother asked of me to hide his phone." He points at Sonic.

"But he kept finding it, no matter where I hid it. So I gave in and just put in there."

You both look over at the hedgehog again. Who was trying to look innocent.

"For a time, it worked. I've done this several times before and mother had seen me, and did not react. Which is why I was so confused by your surprise to it. "

"Well, you are very animal like, at least compared to humans. And she is a veterinarian, so."

He nods," Perhaps. In any case, just like those previous times, I figured hiding it in the same place would work. What I did not account for was the phone moving about while there."

He held his hand ontop of his pouch. Remembering the strange sensations the phone gave when it moved. It was.. strange, to say the least.

"Oh yeah, what happened with that? Your face looked pretty funny while Sonic was calling his phone."

He removed the phone from his pouch, but this time holding in a slightly tighter grip than earlier, incase Sonic got any ideas, and turned it over in his hand.

"I..do not know. I'd never felt anything like it. I'm not sure what it was."

"Hmm, well, try to explain what it felt like? And I'll see what I can do to figure it out."

He looks at you, then past you, where you knew Sonic was sitting a minute ago. The hedgehog had grown bored and left to the kitchen to make a snack.

"It felt like the buzzing of the device. But.. different. And it made me want to smile..and laugh. Strange isn't it? Like magic."

Your peaceful smile slowly grows into one with playfully malicious intent.

Knuckles frowns." What is with that expression?"

"Oh, nothing. I just think I know what it is."

He raises a brow."You do?"

"Yup, but I'll need to test my theory. Do you mind?"

He is hesitant, but shrugs and watches you reach over and poke around his sides. He twitched a bit and huffed at the feeling, but no smile or laugh.

"Does that feel like earlier?"

"A bit, but not as strong. It's actually rather annoying this wa-AaY!!"

You launched an attack on the poor echidna. Your fingers skittering across his sides and belly, making him grunt at first, but eventually succumbing, forcing high guffaws that evolved into laughter and giggles. You'd grown so used to Knuckles deep voice, but hearing the higher pitched he'd somehow reached, made you smile wide and laugh along with him.

Sonic had been surprised by his brother's outburst, recognizing his voice making all that noise. What he was not expecting, was the reason for it.

A smug grin widens across his face. " He's ticklish!!"

You continue your assault, giggling all the while.

"I guess so!"

Knuckles did not respond. Too preoccupied with trying to catch his breath, his face feeling hot. He should feel humiliated for his actions, but seeing your face and that of his brother, with playful smiles and laughing along with him, pushed those thoughts away.

Besides, he didn't know if he could say anything if he tried. His own laughter taking up whatever breath he could draw in. 

Why did something as simple as touch reduce him to a giggly puggle. 

"Ok, I think that's enough for now." You said in between your laughing.

 His hands covered his stomach as soon as your fingers left. He was trying to catch his breath again, a stupidly silly smile on his face. Leftover laughter fading to giggles as he calms down. 

" That is called tickling, and you my friend are very ticklish, apparently."

"Haha, eh, good, aheh, good to kno-how."

Sonic rubbed his hands together,"Oho ho! Now this is interesting. I could definitely use this next time you hide my phone."

You could hear the gears in his brain already forming plots against his brother.

You look back to Knuckles, with a smirk.

" Sonic is ticklish too."

"Ah! Why would you tell him that!" He cried.

"Eh, just keeping things fair."

A couple hours pass, with you three hanging around the t.v. You were just putting on another movie when you heard the sound of a car rolling up the driveway.

You press pause and get up, along with your friends, to greet whoever was home.

The door unlocks and it's Maddie and Tails.

Tails greets his brothers then you, giving you all another round of hugs, while Maddie walks past, smiling and giving you all a pat or kiss on the head.

"Hey, guys. So how was it? Anything crazy happen or broken things I should know about?"

She's facing away from you guys, not able to see the pointed and worried looks your friends were giving you. A certain blue hedgehog in particular.

"Nope. Everything went well. I even learned something very interesting from today." 

Now it was Knuckles turn to look nervous, and he didn't even know why. 

"Knuckles is part kangaroo." You grin his way, to see your offended friend scrunch his nose and scoff, indignantly.

"I am not. I am one hundred percent echidna. Only echidna blood runs through these veins."

As if purposely ignoring him, Maddie smile at you.

"Why? Did he show you his cute little pouch?"

Knux crosses his arms and looks away from you both, with a huffy," Mother, please."

"Yup. And that's not all." You whisper that last part, walking up behind Knuckles. He barely has a second to turn and see you there before you tackle him down into a cackling mess.

"Wait, no!!-"

"Too late!"

Maddie leans against the wall, watching and laughing along with you two. Tails, hearing the commotion, peeps around the corner, with Sonic right behind him, and sees you ontop of the toppled Knuckles.  

The poor echidna is suddenly saved by the bell. Or in this case, a knock on the door. 

You pause, giving the echidna a chance to breath again, while Sonic goes and opens the door. The sheriff has arrived, and is immediately baffled by the scene before him. 

A wheezing Knuckles with a funny smile and glare directed towards you. Meanwhile,  you're sitting beside him. An oblivious look on your face as you stare off to the side.

Tom blinks for second, then asks, "Uh, what's goin on here?"

Maddie smiles, "(Y/n) was just teaching me something new she learned about our little echidna here."

Tom smirks," And that would be?"

You grin madly and look back to your victim.

"Allow me to demonstrate."

You wiggle your fingers, hovering your hands just above him, making him already unwillingly snicker, knowing what was to come. 

"No, please, mercy!"

"There is no mercy in this house!" 

"No-hOhoHOoO!!!"

Boisterous laughs and chortles fill the air as you show the echidna's father what you'd learned. His family joining in on the laughter at the sight of their more stoic of their family members being reduced to a giggling puddle under you.

"You- eheh, are cruel." His only understandable response amongst his leftover chortles.

Knux doesn't even retaliate or defend himself.  Not daring to move, for fear of lashing out and hurting you. His fists glued to the ground, by sheer will power. A power slowly waning as your assault grows stronger.

You finally let him go when it looks like he's having a hard time holding back and catching a breath. Even afterwards, a string of giggles continues to leave him. The sensation of your tickling still affecting him, even after you'd stopped. 

You give him a sweet little innocent smile."I try."

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s �� maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again. 

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own ���literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[oncasette]

𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: 1.1k

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check.

or the one where jj spills his feelings for his best friend.

a/n: i haven't seen s4 and i don't know if i'm going to, but here's this jj fic since i was feeling up for it? question mark? it's all fluff.

masterlist

“Done in there?” JJ calls from where he’s no doubt spread out on your bed. You can’t help the small laugh that trickles out of you as you open the door, still facing the mirror as you finish up your skincare routine. In the corner of the mirror, you catch JJ’s reflection fiddling with a lighter.

“Don’t burn down my bedroom,” you say. He looks up at you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He flips the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, already being bullied down by the high setting on your ceiling fan. 

“What? Don’t trust me?” he smirks. 

“Not even a bit,” you chirp, setting all of your creams and oils back into your medicine cabinet. 

He sets the lighter down on your nightstand. 

“Comfy?” you giggle, watching as he snuggles down further under your plush duvet. You’re glad you made him change, not sure you’d ever get the dirt and sweat from his clothes out of your sheets. He nods, humming. You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you shut the bathroom light off and slide under the covers beside him. It’s almost instantaneous that JJ molds to your side, pushing up your arm in order to lay his head against your shoulder, nose in your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your stomach flutters a bit. 

JJ had always been touchy with you. You like to think that he does it with everyone, that that was just his nature. You’d seen him sling an arm around Pope at the Boneyard, tug Kiara into a hug, spin her around, even, kiss John B on the cheek in some of his more emphatic moments. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he was with you. The lingering touches, the snuggling, the sleepovers, the kisses against your temple. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been out on the HMS without him putting his hat on you. It’s friendly enough for you to brush off, for the most part. For you to push it all down and justify his actions when the rest of the pogues prod you for information. 

It’s moments like this, though–alone, away from prying eyes–that you allow yourself to pretend. Just a little. 

You bring up a hand to his hair and run the tips of your nails across his scalp. He purrs, curling closer into you and you feel his eyelashes brush your skin as his eyes close. 

“‘S it raining?” he mumbles into you. His hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for the hand not currently in his hair. Slowly, nearly leaving goosebumps beneath his fingers, he intertwines his fingers with yours. There’s no way this is platonic. Right? Your brain screams at you. 

“What?” you hum, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Rain. From the sky. Outside.”

You look at the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, J, it’s raining.”

He smiles, kissing the skin already beneath his lips. That’s new.

“I like the rain,” he chirps, voice surprisingly drowsy for how energetic he’d been before you’d left for your shower. 

“Do you?”

He nods, humming. “Makes everything slow down a bit.”

“I didn’t think you liked slowing down,” you say, your fingers moving down from his hair to ghost over his back.

“I like slowing down when I’m with you,” he shrugs. You feel him shudder slightly when your nails gently scrape across his shoulder blades. “Plus, I look sexy when I’m all drenched like that.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he scoffs, head snapping up to glare at you pitifully. 

“Smug bastard,” you laugh. He winks as his lips curl into a fittingly smug smirk.

“You love it,” he says. His hand squeezes yours, still held tight in his grasp. You don’t respond in words, instead opting to squeeze his hand back. You feel his heart rate jump against your ribs. His eyes flicker between yours. The smirk slowly drops into something a little less cocky. Something a little softer. Warmer. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. It’s only when his gaze moves down to your lips that your own breath stutters. That definitely can’t be platonic. 

He whispers your name so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so close. 

“I think I love you,” he says. What.

“I love you, too, J,” you say, pasting on your friendliest voice to try and ignore the way his breath is now fanning over your face. He smells like the gum he’d stolen from your car.

“No, I mean…” he clamps his eyes shut. “I do love you, like that, like a friend. Of course I do, you’re my best friend-”

“John B’s your best friend,” you cut him off, because there’s no way this is actually happening.

“Listen, just… I,” he drops his head against your sternum, frustration seeming to roll off of him in waves. 

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” you say softly. 

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he grunts.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Pretending.

“Pretending?” you ask, placing a hand on his cheek to pull his gaze back up to yours. You smile softly at the way he nuzzles into your palm. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks. His eyes are closed, his nose pressed against your thumb. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You need more than these clipped comments. Stupidly, something deeper in the back of your mind can’t settle for even the chance of you misconstruing this. Of being wrong.

“Obvious about what, J?”

“I already told you,” he whispers. He just barely kisses the pad of your thumb. 

“Tell me again,” you beg, holding your breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Good? That’s all you have to say? I’m pouring my heart out here, baby,” he huffs and your heart nearly stops altogether. A bewildered giggle slips out of you.

“That’s good because I… uh,” you swallow. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t answer this time. He slides up the last couple of inches to press his lips against yours. His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, bringing your mouth even harder against his. His other hand squeezes yours for dear life. 

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check. 

You’d kissed him before. On New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. But, that had been a quick, chaste peck between friends and you’d been able to blame the fireworks behind your eyelids on the holiday, and this. This was different. Much, much different. There were sparks tingling down to the tips of your toes. You pull back when you can no longer justify ignoring your need for oxygen and nearly whine when JJ chases your lips. 

“I’m in love with you.” His voice is hoarse. 

“You said that,” you giggle, brain still a little hazy.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get me to stop saying it now,” he says. His body weight is almost fully pressed onto you as he ducks his head to place short kisses against your neck. Your fingers find his hair again, combing through the silky strands. You mentally thank him for stealing your shampoo. 

[ihaznoclue]

Can I request platonic headcanons for Knuckles, Shadow, and Sonic reacting to gn reader, who met him for the first time, searching for a photo of what animal he is & comparing side by side please? I learnt what an echidna is because of Knuckles 😁

Pairings -> Knuckles, Shadow and Sonic x Gender neutral Reader

Warnings -> None

Notes -> Reader searching for a photo of an animal and comparing side by side

Genre -> Fluff

Knuckles the Echidna

Knuckles was really confused on what you were doing

Look back and forth of a piece of paper that you had in your hand

He thought you were doing some voo-doo shit or something

"What are you doing..?"

"I'm comparing this photo I found on the internet with you"

Now he was even more confused on what you had on this piece of paper

You were just simply comparing an animal with Knuckles seeming to see the similarities of an Echidna

Knuckles was more red and huge than a original Echidna on Earth

But that was maybe because he came from a different universe

"May I see what this piece of paper holds?"

So you turned the photo around to show what you had

It was a little fella with spikes on its back with a long snout

You thought it was adorable

But Knuckles look closely as he tilted his head in confusion

What is this creature

"It's a Echidna"

"I do not look like this creature"

"That's because these are on Earth but since you came from a different universe, you're more bigger and more redder than this cutie"

His purple eyes was still focused on the photo as he saw not resemblance that he had on this 'Echidna'

"Knuckles, you've been staring at this for 20 minutes now"

"I still do not look like that"

Shadow the Hedgehog

He was basically created

Even though he was meant to look like a hedgehog

I believe that he wouldn't know what a hedgehog even looks like at first

Until you were comparing him with a actual Hedgehog that lives on Earth

"May I ask what you are doing?"

"Oh Nothing, just comparing you with a animal I found online"

He raised an eyebrow as tilted his head a little bit to the side

"What does the photo have on it?"

"A hedgehog, well basically a hedgehog that is from Earth"

"But Aren't I a Hedgehog?"

"Yes, but you're more human like, bigger and a little more fluffier than these Hedgehog that lives on Earth"

"May I see what they look like?"

"Sure"

Shadow carefully took the photo from your hand as he looked at the little creature on the photo

So that's what a hedgehog looks like from Earth

He never knew how small they are and all the spikes they have on their bodies

"They are so small"

"Yep they sure are, but they are really cute"

Shadow gave you back the photo

He also wondered what other animals he hasn't seen on Earth yet

Sonic the Hedgehog

Well he already knows what animal he is compared to

But I doubt he knows what the actually animal looks like on Earth

Like he seen turtles, birds and other stuff

But I wonder what he thinks of Earth Hedgehogs

"Um.. What are you doing?"

Sonic was just resting on the couch with Ozzie then he spotted you

You had one eye closed as you look back and forth to the photo and sonic

"You don't even look like it"

"Look like what?"

"Like a Hedgehog"

"I'm taking full offence to that, I'm sonic the hedgehog of course I look like the thing you are looking at on the photo"

You then looked at sonic as if he never saw a real Hedgehog

"Sonic, Do you even know what a real Hedgehog look likes?"

"Pfft Of course I do"

You raised an eyebrow as you turned the photo over to let sonic see what you were actually looking at

"What is that? It looks so small and cute"

"That is a hedgehog"

"Huh? I thought It would be more bigger"

"These are basically our hedgehogs on Earth they are more smaller than you"

"Huh I never knew how small they can be"

"But you are still adorable sonic"

-A<3

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[limethefirst]

Hello! I've read you're shadow fanfiction and it's just absolutely amazing!! Can I request a shadow x teen reader(platonic) where the reader stays with robotnik and stone but isn't related like they just decided to keep them because they were useful and when shadow comes around he grows an attachment to them and constantly wants to protect them

Please and thank you!!!!

Guardian Hedgehog

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: slight sonic 3 spoilers

summary: Shadow finds himself getting attached again, but maybe this outcome will be different from the rest

a/n: thank you so much for being patient and enjoying my other stories! Here’s your request, I hope you enjoy it as much as the others!

When you first met Shadow, he quite literally jump scared you. You were walking down the dark corridor with Knuckles the Echidna, he was letting out a nervous mumble about supposedly not being scared but you could tell he was from his shaking. You didn’t blame him though, this place was creepy that’s for sure, you wanted to go with Robotnik or Stone but Sonic had very little faith in you three so instead you had to pair up with Knuckles.

As you walked with him, your arms crossed you let out an annoyed groan, sure this place was creepy and weird and actually somewhat scary…but nothing would get you, so why make a big fuss anyway.

“Boo”

And that is how you met Shadow. By getting unintentionally scared and jumping behind the smaller echidna.

From that point forward it seemed as if he wanted to just stick by your side, which you didn’t really mind. It was actually quite funny; when Robotnik would reprimanded you for messing up a task, Shadow would give him a mean glare, which happened a lot in the short amount of time he was with you.

Even Gerald noticed it, although he didn’t say anything about it. It was you and Shadow’s little thing, like he was your little guardian.

Currently you were in London, inside The Crab, watching the novela on the T.V.

“Gabriela should kill them both, she’s not a prize to be won,” Shadow grumbled, his focus on the show in front of him. You let out a small nod, not turning back to look at him, disgustingly engrossed in the show.

Stone only let out a chuckle, telling Shadow not to be so negative before he called out to you, “Hey, could you slice up these avocados for me while I use the mortar to grind them?”

You gave a quick glance back before standing, eyes lingering back to the show every once and while. Shadow watched the interaction subconsciously moving a bit closer to where you were.

As you stood next to Stone on the counter you weren’t paying as much attention to the knife in your hand as you should’ve as you suddenly cut the tip of your index finger.

“Ah shoot,” you hissed out, dropping both the knife and the avocado in your hand onto the counter. Within a second Shadow had immediately teleported to your side, his head raised to get a look at what happened to you.

Stone also turned, putting down his bowl and taking a look, “Just a small cut don’t be so over dramatic,” he sarcastically said.

“If it were the Dr you’d probably already call an ambulance…” you replied with a snarky tone, teasing him a bit. He gave you a short glance before grabbing a first aid kit and handing it to you.

Shadow watched you the entire time, his face as stoic as ever, but his moves precise. He would check the cut then your body language seeing if you were in anytime of pain. Honestly it was a bit of an over exaggeration on his part but he felt the need to protect you and in that moment he sensed it was like he failed you.

As you took the first aid kit you turned over to Shadow, before you even got the chance to open it he’d already taken it from you, “What are you doing?” You questioned him.

“Fixing your cut,” he plainly replied.

“Awe you’re like an angel sent from above!”

“Don’t call me that.”

You chuckled before sitting down on the ground so Shadow had an easier time helping you. Shadow didn’t want to admit it but he found your banter with him endearing and tolerable compared with most others.

As you sat there, you watched Shadow disinfect the cut, drying it once he was done.

“You’re good at that, have you done this before?” You asked him, watching as he grabbed one of the kiddy bandaids in the kit.

“I have experience,” was all he said, not feeling the need to go into detail, most of his focus currently on making sure your cut was secure.

Slowly he unwrapped your bandaid, Patrick the Starfish was the one you got, they were all little kid bandaids since you were in charge of making sure all the first aid kits were packed.

You watched as he put it around your finger, his eyes very focused on the task at hand. Quietly he gave a curt nod once he was done, signaling that you could get up now.

As you stood up you took a look at your bandaid, you gave a small smile, “Thanks Shadow,” you quietly said, patting the hedgehog on the head.

He didn’t tell you anything, his job was done, you were okay now and he could relax.

Shadow wouldn’t do what he had just done for you for most people, but even he knew it was a little different when it came to you. The longer he’d been around you, the harder it was to detach himself, in fact, he’d found himself growing more attached.

Maybe it was okay for him to finally get attached again, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad this time. Everything would be alright.

[puddinrin]

IDIOTS EVERYWHERE! >TEAM THANOS X F!READER

summary: being the babysitter of literal grown men with your gorgeous wife se-mi

pairings: se-mi x f!reader (wlw because we all wanna be her bitch), platonic! thanos, nam gyu, min su & gyeong su x f!reader

warnings: man children

a/n: (name) is a fashion designer!

part one: lady boss! here

literal man child. all of them.

you think min su at least is more responsible than the other three

but no, boy can literally be utterly clueless sometimes

namgyu at 11.40 am

min su ask lady boss if we could bring allen into the apartment

dw u cute she wont get mad at u

"(name), nam gyu asked if they could bring the german shepherd from downstairs into the apartment." min-su asked, looking up from his phone after reading the message that was sent to him.

"sure. tell them to get its dog certificate from the owner and it can sleep in my room too." you replied, full of sarcasm as you and se-mi, who let out a snicker at that - prepare the coffee table for lunch.

min-su perked up, shocked that you agreed without any arguments. "really?!" you looked at him, baffled, searching for any signs he realised that you were just being sarcastic.

spoiler alert, he didn't. god bless this man and your patience.

thanos has a habit of holding the handle of your bag when going through a crowd

his brain shut down at random times

so he needs you or nam gyu or anyone else to make sure he don't face plant into a pole or smth

while nam gyu holds you by the back of your neck while he walks behind you

leading you to wherever you guys are going

you and se-mi love to spite the others by being lovey dovey with each other

can't help with how se-mi can't keep her hands to herself too

while you walk with the others, she has a hand on your waist or hip, keeping you close to her

she love holding your hands too

keeping your intertwined hands in the pocket of her black leather coat when it's cold outside.

"your hands so cold, baby." se-mi frowned as she held your hands, caressing your skin. she then intertwined your fingers together before putting it in the pocket of her black coat.

you smiled giddily as you couldn't help but feel flustered from her action. "let's get some warm soup later, the one you like." she suggested, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb.

"okay." you nodded, before holding her arm with your other hand, hugging it.

from behind, nam gyu dramatically gagged at the scene in front of him. "gosh, couples."

thanos groaned, slinging his arm around min-su's shoulder, pulling him to his side. "min-su, cutie. come on, hold my hand too."

"i refuse." he replied, trying to push him away.

you have to hold back se-mi from killing them

however, se-mi doesn't bother holding you back from jumping them whenever they get on your last nerve

she encourages you to send them to hell and have the devil personally give them a tour of it

especially when you're taking measurements for their outfits

"su bong, hold still!" you groaned, smacking his stomach. he let out a playful 'ow', holding his stomach dramatically. "so fierce, senorita."

nam gyu chuckled as he watched the scene before him, snacking on a bag of lays chips.

"don't blame me if your pants drop in the middle of your performances because i couldn't get the right measurement." you threatened lightly, circling the measuring tape around his hips.

thanos gasped, grinning as he clapped his hands. "the fans would love that, wouldn't they?!"

gyeong-su cackled, looking through the designs of outfit that you had planned for them on your ipad. "nah, you would blow up on X."

nam gyu laughed, brushing his hands against each other to get rid of any chips dust. "that would be great publicity for black stones wouldn't that?"

"oh my god, no one wants to see your weeny, choi su bong!"

se-mi didn't have to hold you back from killing them

but she had to hold you back from strangling yourself with the measuring tape hanging around your neck

they love taking pictures of you

they your personal paparazzi

especially thanos, nam gyu and se-mi

it could range from you looking like an utter goddess that graced the world to the most mememable picture of you.

their birthday posts and instagram stories of you is whole rollercoaster ride

> thanostone4u

liked by semilw, gyeongsuuue and 23k others

thanostone4u happy birthday to my highness

> thanostone4u's story

caption: came to support us or to make yourself at home?

> namgyu124's story

caption: girl complains i don't take enough candid pics of her 😒

> namgyu124's story

caption: she's missin slippers bcs girl threw them at me

> semilw

liked by namgyu194, minsublackstone, blackstoneofficial and 18k others

semilw my princess

> semilw's story

caption: she amazes me everyday

[slimyalienfreak]

Hey!! Can you do movie sonic x mobian fem reader (platonic) who is a fan of him and wants to show herself to the world and fight eggman but she is too scared people will hate her

Movie!Sonic Meeting Mobian!Reader Who Happens To Be A Fan

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Sorry for the late post. I’ve had a bunch of requests coming through and with me going to the hospital recently to see if my foot’s good (by the way it’s healing great just need to get used to walking again.) so I didn’t have the time to do it till now. Hope you like reading this because I definitely enjoyed writing this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: She/Her

Warning: ⚠️Mentions of low self-esteem/anxiety⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Sonic + Mentions Of Tom + Maddie + Tails + Knuckles + Eggman

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Icon by jennieismygirlfriend on Pinterest + Banner by scyprod (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Sonic the hedgehog. A name that constantly rings through your mind constantly. You most likely discovered him around some point from the baseball scene to near the end just like how Tails did. You had heard about his antics on earth and to say you liked him was an understatement. Judging on the info you had discovered from the most recent event with him and eggman you became a massive fan of him. Can anyone blame you? He helped you be inspired in your own way. Even if you had some problems expressing yourself mostly due to fear of what people might think of you. You wanted to prove your worth but you just didn’t know how.

- You really wanted to meet him even dreaming of what he would be like if you were to talk to him. Would he take interest or not? You were contemplating on going to earth just to meet him in real life. Show him how he has helped you in a way without directly meeting you. But you let your insecurities get the better of you. Eventually you decided to risk and travel to earth, you didn’t know what you were going to do when you got there, you didn’t really have any other motive besides meeting your idol. With Eggman gone as far as you were aware of and no one else who wanted to carry out his plan you didn’t really have any reason to go and get yourself into any trouble but still for some reason you felt like you needed to go. It kind of took you a while to get used to being on earth as well trying not to get spotted by pretty much everyone. You never know what they’re reactions could be seeing you and honestly you didn’t want to find out so you created a hide-out like what sonic did in the first movie.

- Now for when Sonic met you for the first time. He managed to come across you and your hide-out on his solo adventure and to say he was surprised was an understatement. There was another mobian like him, he immediately went over to you and started asking you a bunch of questions catching you off guard before immediately recognising him as the idol you love. You were too busy internally fangirling about if this was a dream or not to answer his questions.

+ “Ma’am is everything alright there?” Sonic asked, managing to snap you out of your fangirl trance concerned about the lack of reaction coming from you “oh…yeah I am, you're sonic right like the actual sonic?” You asked in return wanting to confirm it even though you knew it was. Sonic gave you a confused look before slowly answering your question “yeah I am sonic, why do you ask?” You gave him a cheerful smile before bringing him into a hug, surprising him even more but still hugged you in return despite just meeting you. You then told him about how much of a fan you were of him, telling him how much you appreciated him to which he thanked you and joked about he never knew he had fans.

- Pretty much since then he wanted to introduce you to Tom and Maddie because why not, they were also starting to suspect something with him constantly going off to see you. At first you were nervous because based on how he described them you guessed they were humans and your nervousness was getting the best of you but sonic managed to convince you that they really didn’t mean any harm and you trusted him so you decided to go with him to meet the two of them. As soon as you met the two of them they were excited they’d pretty much had gotten used to seeing sonic so seeing you with him although surprised to see someone like sonic they openly welcomed you with open arms, they were just happy that sonic met someone else. Also Sonic may have been teased by Tom about you especially since you were a female but except for that they enjoyed meeting you.

- Sonic will be your number one defender. If anyone even dares to make you upset about something he isn’t going to sit there and let you take it, making you even more self conscious. He doesn’t like seeing his friends upset, it kind of makes him both angry and upset himself seeing you just take insults being thrown at you.

- He pretty much noticed a bit after meeting you that you're very self conscious about yourself. Although you seemed to be somewhat open, when it came to expressing yourself and your strengths he noticed how unwilling you were to do it. He didn’t really understand why at first because he thinks you're really cool. You must have some sort of strength if you were willing to leave your home planet just to visit him. But once he learns about your lack of confidence he honestly feels bad for you. He could tell by the way you talked to him that you do genuinely want to prove yourself to the world; you just let your feet get the best of you. So with the new information he learned about you he’s willing to do anything to help raise your confidence. He feels like he has to, what sort of idol would he be if he didn’t?

- He takes it a step at a time, although he was wanting to make sure that you gain your confidence he knows it will take some time. You two will often have one on one sessions basically letting you express your feelings (imagine that scene when sonic is acting like a therapist but it’s with you and not just him).

- Eventually when Eggman returns from Mushroom planet Sonic definitely wants you to join him alongside Tails. He knows this would be a big step for you but he sees this as an opportunity and wants you to join him. He promises to keep both you and Tails safe as long as you're with him. Although a bit nervous yourself you could see what his point was and you knew he wouldn’t let you get harmed. You wanted to prove yourself and put what you learned from him to use so without thinking you joined him. And to say that it felt oddly good to finally do what you wanted to was an understatement. Still you were nervous but that nervousness was overwritten by adrenaline and relief. Although you went through some things during the trip to get the chaos emerald it was worth it in the end. This is when you decided to permanently join Sonic’s group alongside your new friends Tails and eventually when he decided to join Knuckles.

———————————

[qlossytbh]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞? - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 where you find yourself with immense baby fever

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 baby fever, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, reader and spencer are married, hotch x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i imagined older spence but younger jack so pretend jack is around 3 or 4 but spence is like around season 7/8 (?)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“All I’m saying, you could’ve been a little nicer,” You turned to Morgan with a rigid sigh. If he didn’t know you better, it’d probably sound like you were deeply annoyed with him, on the verge of cursing him out. He knew you were only regarding the events of today's case.

“I think you’re mixing ‘being nicer’ with tough love,” You deadpanned at your friend, earning nothing but his signature snicker.

You shook your head, feigning that of disappointment. You rolled your shoulder back, craning your neck slightly to scan the files that rested between your fingers. God, how many files could one see in a day?

It was a few hours past midday when the case came to an end. Hotch had a sudden dilemma that he needed immediate solving, so he told all of you to make it back to headquarters. You and Morgan however, had been stuck together for the day and made it back a lot earlier than the rest of the team, prompting the two of you to get some necessary paperwork done.

You needed a day off— especially from Morgan.

The bullpens doors opened unexpectedly, drawing you and Derek out of your conversation. You turned, seeing the rest of the team waltz through the glass door— only this time, they were accompanied by a pair of small legs.

You couldn’t stop a reflexive smile from growing onto your face. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jack waddled into the bullpen, one of his tiny fists bundled up onto a small section of Hotch’s dress pants. You could’ve screamed, a reaction that was becoming more necessary every time you saw a kid, and most definitely when you saw Jack.

At the sound of your cheery voice, Jack looked up, biting onto his knuckles— something you learned was a sign of his bashfulness.

But when he realized it was you who was standing next to Morgan, his face immediately morphed into one that could only portray pure and innocent child joy, looking as if he couldn’t be happier to see you. Nothing could compare to how ecstatic that made you feel, chest getting fuzzy with endearment. Hotch placed his palm onto the back of his head. “Look who it is!”

You've taken care of Jack too many times you lost count, given since you and Hotch were close— practically family. You adored Jack and found yourself being struck with some newfound motherly instinct when it came to him— or any kid for that matter. He always gave you this very violent need to squeeze his cheeks and hug him so tight he might pop.

“Is that little Jackie?” Your voice was high and welcoming, trying to hide how utterly joyed you were with seeing him and failing miserably. Jack immediately pushed himself off of Hotch’s leg and began running towards you.

Well, he more so waddled his way over to you, small feet pattering roughly against the floor as he ran over to you in an unstable line. You met him halfway, crouching down and opening your arms for him. When he was close enough, he launched himself into said arms, voice loud with giggles and shrieks. “If it isn’t my favorite boy!”

You squeezed him tightly, rising once again to your natural height and hugging the small toddler. Morgan, of course, didn’t miss a beat to taunt. “Careful, Reid’s listening.”

“Oh please,” You rested Jack on your hip, keeping strong secure arms around him while he gripped the ends of your hair curiously. “Spencer knows that Jack comes first no matter what, isn’t that right Jack?”

“Yeah!” He laughed.

Spencer couldn’t keep in a single thought as he watched you interact with Jack so naturally. It twisted his chest in weird, scary ways. If it were anyone else he’d be terrified. But it was you. And he now found his head lingering with the idea of you as a mother— the mother of his children, specifically.

It was a conversation the two of you had once, very briefly a few months after you two got married. Spencer had been meaning to get back at it, but with the chaos of your jobs it had been really hard to think about anything other than serial killer and criminals.

But fuck, if Spencer said that seeing you interact so carefully and sweetly with not only Jack but many other children that had stumbled up on these last few cases— he’d be the biggest liar on the face of this earth.

Just the thought of starting a family with you was something that filled him with anticipation. It made his chest burn. Something he craved so deeply, it sometimes left him breathless.

“You’re getting so big and strong that I’m beginning to have a hard time lifting you up.” You huffed, setting him down onto the ground and crouching beside him. “You’re gonna give me back problems.”

“Derek says it’s because you’re getting weak!” His R’s were disguised as muffles W’s, which only caused your heart to clench further. A choke disguised as a strained laugh left your mouth.

“Is that so?” You turned over to him with a glare. Morgan scratched the back of his head and turned on his heel avoiding you and your piercing gaze.

“But who’s your favorite; big old chiseled Derek, or little weak me?” You squint your eyes at the boy, pursing your lips feeling very confident in his answer.

And to no one’s surprise did Jack point towards you and with a huge, wide smile laughed out. “You!”

You laughed victoriously, holding out a palm for Jack to clap. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned.

After one last hug from the child, you ushered Jack over to Hotch, shooting an endeared smile towards him. God, you loved that kid so much.

JJ, Prentiss and Rossi made their way to the conference room. You look ahead, meeting the gaze of your husband and smiling profusely. It was a subconscious reaction your body had. You found yourself meeting Spencer halfway. “Hey,”

His hand rested on your hip as he leaned down, kissing you chastly. Spencer would’ve loved to actually take his time greeting you with a much proper kiss, but it was a middle ground the two of you found between professionalism and well— being married.

His hand, however, remained on the spot on your hip, thumb drawing circles instinctively. It was subtle, but his touch was still there. Your smile was big and lovestruck, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Hey,”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's laughter ripped through the air as Hotch lifted him up. You and Spencer turned and you swear you could almost cry.

It was as if lately, when you allowed yourself to think even slightly about the concept of children you’d combust into a pool of tears and overbearing endearment. Spencer watched you looking over at Jack and noticed something pooling beneath your eyes.

You looked back at Spencer, lips tied in a pout. “I want one.”

“A baby?” He tuned, laughing slightly at how your body sunk against his, resting your forehead on his chest in exasperation.

“Yes,” You pushed yourself off his chest, throwing your hands around as you spoke. “The small hands, small feet— I swear everytime I see a baby, I get violent.”

You pouted. “Imagine a mini us Spence,”

And Spencer did. He thought about it in such detail that he forgot it wasn’t an actual reality of his. A little girl or boy, that resembled either of you, that held so many fractions and traits of the two of you— it seemed unreal to him.

“A mini us?” He repeated. You looked up at him.

“Well— yeah,” You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about it but..”

Spencer wanted kids more than he had ever wanted anything before— but he knew that he only wanted it if it was with you. He couldn’t phantom the thought of starting a family with anyone else.

“We should,” He spoke. Your fingers played mindlessly with the bottom of his tie, looking up at him with a teasing smirk.

“We should talk about it or we should try?” A blush crept up his cheeks as his eyes widened just slightly. You always found ways to catch him off guard and you loved getting even the slightest reaction out of him.

“Uh—“ He dragged out his words, before his eyes landed back on you. “Both?”

You laughed and he smiled. He always smiled when you laughed, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. You reached down, tangling your fingers with his. “I’m serious though,”

He hummed. “So am I.”

“You actually want to start trying for a baby?” This seemed like a conversation that was far too intimate to be having in the middle of the bullpen— where you usually discussed varieties of atrocious things, but here you were I guess.

“Yeah,” He said, almost in disbelief that you had questioned it. You found yourself growing oddly shy, just thinking of a small version of the two of you running around.

Before you could continue on the subject, Morgan, who now held Jack on his shoulders, was calling you and Spencer over to the conference room. You turned to Spencer, smiling softly.

“Can we get back to this once we get home?”

“Please,” He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a longer kiss onto your lips. You grew giddy and smiled into the kiss, pulling away sooner than both of you would like.

“I love you,” You smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

[quazart]

The Emerald Comes First

(Modern/ X)Knuckles x (platonic!) Reader

He'd finally gotten the last piece of the emerald back. But, it being in the city had taken a while. Finding all the lost pieces had taken a while. Here he is, almost two weeks later, and barely finished.

Pathetic.

It was already a shame he'd let himself be cornered by that idiot doctor, giving him no choice but to shatter the very purpose of his being. But taking this long to find all the pieces? That made the guilt eat away at him even worse.

A growling interrupted his thoughts. He looked down at himself, disgruntled.

Or maybe it was just his stomach eating itself. 

Frowning, he carries on. It didn't matter right now. Once he was back on his island, then he could relax and eat something. 

He finds a tall enough jump point and leaps into the air. His dreads catching a gust and allowing him to ride the wind home. Picking a new current every once in a while to take him to his desired destination. 

His eyes are dry and red from lack of sleep and it takes effort to keep them open. He's so very tired, having slept little to none during his quest. 

But the emerald came first. He could recover later. 

Unfortunately for him, his body disagreed. His eyes droop and shut for, what felt like, only a moment. This little mistake sending him diving into another current and traveling in the wrong direction. His eyes snap open at the shift and he attempts to right himself before he could fall straight out of the sky. 

He growls and searches for another current to get him back on course. He had to be quick. His glide making him fall miles and miles the wrong way, with each passing minute. 

'There's one!'

He feels for it and turns. The strong gust sending him back where he was originally headed. 

A couple minutes pass before he finally sees his island come into view. 

He sighs, so close.

His excitement and relief cause his muscles to relax, for the first time in a while. He is very close to passing out from exhaustion.

He'd been fighting and searching with no breaks for a little over a week and a half, and his body was more than ready for rest. 

His eyes were beginning to fall again. Only one thought floating around in his mind kept him awake.

The emerald. 

He's just a couple yards away now. Almost there. He begins to zone out.

Until he suddenly finds his vision taken over by a face full of, '(y/n)?!'

You both yell in surprise, not having seen the other until a second before Knuckles crashed right into you.

"Puah!!"

"Oof!!"

Both of you fall over, the echidna landing ontop of you and sending you back a couple feet before stopping. The emerald pieces scatter around you both. Having fallen out of Knuckles grasp, upon impact.

You stay on the ground, unmoving, for a moment. Temporarily, K.O.'d by the sudden echidna's arrival. 

Knuckles was left dazed, but not from the impact. Yes, he was surprised to see you here, but his body is finally getting what it's needed, and he's not sure he can fight its urge to rest much longer.

He was home, his friend was here, the emerald was here.

Everything was fine.

'Wait, the emerald!'

With eyes half-lidded, but still alert,  he lifts his head enough to count the pieces of the gem, ensuring they were all still there. They were. He releases a breath he was holding, in relief, and puts his head back on your shoulder. You wouldn't mind if he took two minutes to rest his eyes would you? 

You were greatly surprised by your friends entrance. How had you not seen him? How did he not see you? A bright red echidna, or a human, on Angel Island? You don't see many humans here. Or any for that matter. Even mobians! How did he manage to run into you?

You take a good look at him. There are bags under his eyes. When did he last sleep? His frame seemed slightly slimmer compared to the last time you saw him. And his tail, which naturally stood raised high, laid limp behind him. He looked exhausted. 

"Knuckles?... Knux?"

He groans as you boop his snoot. A violet eye peeks at you. Letting you know he's listening, more or less.

"Knux, when was the last time you slept?"

He weakly shrugs. Closing his eye. His fatigued brain and body wanting nothing more than some lovely sleep. A fuzzy, blissful feeling just from closing his eyes, taking over his senses. Making him not even bother to fight anymore.

You glare, what does he mean by a shrug? He doesn't know, or it doesn't matter? Either one isn't good.

But apparently not bad enough.

His stomach rumbles, strong enough to practically shake his little frame. He curls in on himself with a grunt. The grumbling lessening, but not going away.

'The idiot hasn't been eating either?!'

Now very worried for him, you quickly sit up. While upsetting your friend, you didn't care. 

He remains in a dazed sitting position, watching as you quickly pick up all the emerald pieces and gesture for him to follow you. He gives you a blank face, but gets up. Or, tries to at least. His shaky limbs not wanting to cooperate with their neglectful owner. No sleep. No food. And on the move for almost two weeks, it was surprising he hadn't full on collapsed yet.

You sigh and frown, this is gonna take forever, unless you do something.

You walk over to where he's standing, his legs shaking under his weight, and gently pick him up and holding him like a sack of potatoes over your shoulder. Your arm looping over his side and back, and his limbs hanging on either side. His head facing behind you as you began your trek to the shrine.

Knowing where you were headed, and having  nothing else to do, Knuckles relaxed and dozed off in your hold. Too tired to argue or fight against the ridiculous way you held him. 

Although, he wouldn't admit it for the life of him, he secretly loved any and all physical contact. Especially when it came from you. You being the only one, of all his friends, that he trusted the most. Besides Sonic and Tails. 

He fell asleep to the sound of your steps and sway of your walk.

The poor idiot.

You tell him, time and time again, 'Take care of yourself or there won't be a guardian to watch over the M.E.', but does he listen? No! Of course not! You're just a human who knows nothing about mobians, let alone an ancient tribe and their ways of protecting a big green rock. It's not like you're his best friend or anything, who he's repeatedly told the history and importance of the emerald and the island to. Or how echidnas, and any mobians in general, have the same basic needs as humans, such as the need for rest and food! No, no. You were an ignorant little human. You didn't know what you were taking about. 

You take a deep breath and sigh, looking at your friend. Sound asleep.  No. You couldn't blame him too much.

For neglecting himself, definitely yes.

His poor stomach still complaining, even after he'd fallen asleep.

You sigh.

You're upset, but you do understand where his stubborn efforts were coming from. 

His job, since he could remember, had been compromised. His self-claimed ,'soul purpose' ,being taken away from him. Of course he'd do everything in his power to get it back, a.s.a.p.

You just wish he'd also dedicate some time to take better care of himself, along the way.

You make it up the shrine. Kneeling down to put the emerald shards in the pile he'd started and covering it with a net like device you'd brought, that Tails had made. With the push of a button it would act as a cage that would camouflage whatever was underneath it. Along with a defense system that would electrocute anybody that doesn't have a programmed chaos energy reading or DNA signature within a ten yard vicinity on the x, y and z axis, so nobody could get anywhere near it.

You didn't know how to put the M.E. back together and probably couldn't if you did. It was his thing. An echidna thing. So you leave it as it is, and walk down the steps.

You make your way to a small house Knuckles had recently fixed up, after you'd scolded and cared for him after getting sick from staying out when it was snowing, a couple months back. You walk in, bend down a bit to get through the door, and take him to his bed. Well, it was a hammock, but he used it as a bed so, same thing.

You look for his blankets and pillow to set him up with. He always folded and put them away after using them. You guessed to either keep the house tidy, or to keep them as nicely kept as the day you brought them for him. Once that's that, you turn away from him.  Wondering when he'd wake up. And what to do in the meantime.

A groan from behind you brings your attention back to your friend. 

The sleeping echidna turns in his hammock with a grimace, curling into himself and holding his middle, but doesn't wake up.

You sigh.

That's what you'll do, while you wait, then.

It's not for another three hours before he wakes up.

At first, he's confused.

How did he get here?

'Where's the emerald!'

He quickly sits up. Vision spinning from the sudden move. He holds his head for a second, giving it a little shake. 

He looks around and finds you in the kitchen, washing a dish, he guessed you'd probably just used.

His senses finally awaken along with the rest of him. His stomach cramps at the smell of food. A pained noise escaping him. 

You hear his short cry and see him sitting up with an arm gripping his abdomen.

"Well good morning sleeping beauty." 

He frowns. You'd told him about human stories before. Human Princess stories, to be exact. So he understood your tease with little to no amusement. 

You laughed at his expression. 

"Put that face away you grump and come and eat."

His eyes gave away his interest for the food, but he didn't move. 

"Where's the emerald." He asks pointedly.

"Up on the shrine, and don't worry. It's protected."

Now he tries to stand up, but his legs shake under him and give way. He falls to all fours with a gasp, and you hurry over to him. Now slightly rested and fully conscious, his pride was touchy, so you just help him to his feet rather than pick him up again. He grumbles under his breath about being fine,  or something along those lines, but accepts your help nonetheless. 

"It's alright Knux, just sit down. I'll bring it to you."

He shakes his head," No. I need to get to the emerald."

Now it your turn to frown. "Um, no, I don't think so. You're staying here. "

"Oh? And who's gonna stop me? You?" He taunts, but not in an entirely joking manner. 

You glare at him and suddenly release him, for only a second.

"Woah!!"

Surprising him as he fell straight to the ground... almost.

You scruff him at the last second and stand him back up.

"You were saying?"

He turns away, crossing his arms. Glaring and mumbling again about who knows what.

You do pick him up this time, but just to get him back to bed.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anymore rest. I need to get to the emerald."

You look him over for a second."Not a chance."

His eyes widen, looking incredulous.

"Look kid, you can barely stand. Let alone walk over to and go up the stairs to the shrine. And then to use even more energy to put it back together? I don't think so."

He looks away from you. Angered by your argument and his predicament. His fatigued and starved body not helping his crabby attitude. 

"Well, then why can't you take me there? So I can see for myself it's safe, at least?!"

You walk away toward the kitchen again, getting a bowl and spoon.

" Is my word not good enough for you? The emerald is fine. And, no."

His jaw nearly drops, and he glares."So, that's it then! You're just gonna leave me here?! I thought we were friends! Isn't that what they're supposed to do? Help each other when one is in need!?"

You fill up his bowl and grab a glass with water. Bringing it over to him.

"Well, yes, friends help their friends. Especially when they're in need." 

"Well this is a need. A big need. I Need your help to get me to the emerald. Right about now would be preferable."

You sit beside him on a stool and place the water next to him on a little nightstand beside you two. The bowl of soup still in your hands, as you stir to cool it off.

"I thought I already said no?"

"Wha-! What is your deal?! Why not!"

"Why, so you can ignore my wishes and think,'Hey, I'm already here. Might as well put the emerald back together and get this island off the ground!' And then I'd have to pick up your comatose tail back to your hammock and fend off harder thieves like Rouge or Eggman by myself, on a floating island. Oh, yes, have the flightless, glide-less, not as durable as a mobian-human fight the tougher bad guys AND take care of you while you're unconscious."

He growls and crossed his arms again. Then you act like you'd just had an idea.

"Ah, you know what? I have a better idea."

He's about to snark and argue with you again, but you hold the bowl you had right infront of his muzzle. The strong smell of the broth and herbs getting to him, and sending another cramp through his torso. 

You look him in the eyes. A serious frown on your face. 

"Eat. Rest. Get better. Then, you'll be able to take yourself, whenever you want. I won't stop you."

He growls in frustration turning away from the bowl, but his stomach decides for him. A painful groan encouraging him to take the soup. Albeit, with a begrudged look on his face, but at least he's eating.

You walk away to give him space.

"And don't worry so much about the emerald. With the island already down, and you huddled up here, nobody would think to come here. Tails' invention will keep the emerald, along with it's energy signature, hidden. Without the emerald, the island doesn't float. No floating island or guardian, no precious emerald....I'll be at the shrine."

He watches as you leave the house. His earlier attitude fading away. You were right. What better time to recover than when the island looked emerald-less.

He looks down at himself. Cozied up with the blankets and pillows you'd gotten him. And a hot meal he never asked you to make.

His insides turn.

You'd been treating him like a friend since he'd gotten back. Maybe better than a friend. And he'd done nothing but argue and claim otherwise since he'd woken up. After you'd probably been watching over his island the entire time he was gone. Without him asking that of you either.

Thinking ahead, keeping the shards he'd already brought, safe. Keeping his home safe and secure.

And after all that. He just had to push and question your loyalty as a friend. All because he didn't get what he wanted. Even though you'd given him what he sorely needed.

He sighs. Setting his spoon back in the bowl. He was starving. Those couple of spoon fulls doing nothing but taunt his stomach. But after you'd departed, so did his appetite.

He set aside the bowl on the nightstand, beside his water, and tries to get up again. He knew if he didn't apologize now, he'd lose the courage to later.

He slowly stands on shaky legs.

He takes a breath and steadies himself. His feet holding firm enough, he begins a slow trek to the shrine. 

Sure enough, there you are.

He'd just come to the clearing where the altar sat and he could see you at the top of the stairs. Keeping lookout, especially now that all the emeralds pieces were together, you knew they'd need watching out for,  now more than ever.

He looks ahead and makes his way to you.

He doesn't make it very far before you disappear. Only to reappear behind him. Your sudden appearance startling him aback, he almost trips over himself.

He always hated when you did that.

You saw him coming even before reaching the clearing. Even among the lush forest greenery, a bright red echidna can catch your eye instantly. You looked away and fumed for a bit and quickly decided to mess with him. Not only for not resting like you'd told him, but to get a little even for how he acted earlier.

And it worked. 

Knuckles hadn't seen you leave the altar and so missed you coming up behind him.

" What are you doing here?"

You asked, making him nearly jump out of his sneakers. You knew he was a little out of it, but you didn't think it was this bad.

He turns to see you, his mouth opening like he had something to say, but closing again. He repeated this again, but still said nothing.

While amusing, you were still very much upset.

"While I do find your fish impression pretty impressive, once again, I ask, why are you here?"

He looked down towards his feet. A couple bugs scurried about, distracting him for a moment. He knew what he wanted to say. So why couldn't he say it?!

'She's your best friend. You aren't a coward, are you?' He repeats in his mind.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you.

"Look, I just wanted to say.. I'm sorry. I know you were trying to help me, but..I didn't see that. I thought you didn't care about what needed to be done. That you didn't respect me or my job. But you did.. you do. You didn't give me what I wanted, but you did give me what I desperately needed. Even if i couldn't see it and fought you over it, you fought back for my own wellbeing. And..I'm sorry for taking you for granted like that, and for questioning you and acting like a jerk. If anybody wasn't acting like a good friend, it was me."

You stare at him for what felt like an hour to him, then reply with a frown. 

"Knux, I'll always be there for you, whether you like it or not. And as much as I appreciate and accept your apology, you really shouldn't be here. You're still doing exactly the opposite of what you should be doing."

He doesn't understand. Shouldn't his apology have made things better?

"Look at me Knux, forget the emerald for now, it's safe. Forget about me for now, I'm safe, and I'm not mad at you, or going anywhere. You,-" you poke his forehead. He gives an almost cross eyed frown.

"You've done your job for now. You should be resting back in bed. Did you even finish the bowl I gave you?"

He frowns and dry swallows, giving you your answer. You roll your eyes. 

"How many times-."

You pick him up over your shoulder, the same way you'd done earlier, with one arm. And surprisingly, he doesn't seem to mind. His head turns towards you as you spoke.

 "You come first Knux. Before the emerald. Before the island. Without you, the emerald has no guardian." He tries to argue, but you quickly shut him down.

"But I-"

"shush*"

He blinks,"Ah? Did you just shush me-"

"Shhh."

He gave you an annoyed look, but doesn't comment anymore. Just glad you were still friends and you weren't mad at him.

You both get back to the house quicker than if you'd let him walk on his own.

You let him down to get to bed, while you get him a fresh bowl of soup.

He doesn't even bother to put the covers over himself. He just drops himself into his hammock. The hanging bed, swinging him back and forth. His fatigue weighing on him even more, now that he was accepting it.

You come over and hand him the food. With his appetite suddenly returned, he quickly sits up and eats.

After polishing off a couple bowls, he thanks you and hands you his dish after you'd come to take it. Laying down, he just stares at his ceiling. Listening to you moving about in the kitchen and then saying you'll be back, as you go to keep watch again.

He nods, and at the same time, thinking about you. His friend, who would keep a lookout for his island and the emerald. Looking out for him. The nice thoughts helping him to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Just as your out the door, you hear his snoring and smile.

Finally!

[starksweasley]

Hurt // Remus Lupin

Pairings: Remus Lupin x Reader, Platonic!Sirius Black x Reader, Platonic!James Potter x Reader, Platonic!Lily Evans x Reader

Summary: You have a habit of putting yourself in harm's way, and your friends are tired of it.

Word Count: 1355

Flashes of the moment assault you, vivid and unrelenting. The sharp whistle of the shrapnel slicing through the air, Lily’s piercing scream ringing in your ears, and Remus’ desperate shout of your name, raw and panicked, all play on an endless loop in your mind. The weight of the moment presses down on you, as tangible as the blood-soaked cloth pressed to your side. Pain radiates outward from the jagged wound, a piece of shrapnel—sharp, merciless, and entirely too real—having found its mark. You’re slumped in the common room now, a halo of your friends surrounding you, faces etched with a mix of worry and fury. Sirius is the one holding the cloth to your side. His hands are steady but his jaw's clenched tight, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. His free hand twitches as if he wants to punch something but he restrains himself and focuses on you instead.

“Are you out of your mind?” James’ voice cuts through the tension first, sharp and incredulous. His glasses slide down his nose as he runs a hand through his messy hair, pacing as if the movement might somehow channel his frustration into something productive. “Throwing yourself into the middle of a battle like that? What were you thinking?” He stops abruptly, leaning forward with his hands braced on the back of a chair, his knuckles turning white.

“I was thinking I…” You grit your teeth against the pain as Sirius presses a little harder, his fingers trembling despite his attempts to seem unaffected. “I was thinking I’d rather it hit me than—”

“Than who?” Lily interrupts, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. She’s perched on the arm of a chair, leaning forward, her knuckles colorless where they grip the fabric. “One of us? Merlin, do you think that’s what we’d want? To watch you…” Her words falter, and her green eyes shine with unshed tears. She stands quickly, crossing her arms as if to physically hold herself together.

“I can’t just stand there and let people get hurt,” you say, your voice hoarse. “I won’t.”

“And what about us?” Sirius snaps, finally breaking his silence. He pulls the cloth away for a moment to check the wound, grimacing before placing his wand over it and murmuring a healing spell. The faint glow of magic reflects off his furrowed brow. His voice drops, low and intense. “Do you think we’re not hurt every bloody time you pull this?” His voice cracks on the last word, and his gray eyes flash with something unspoken. His hand moves, almost hesitantly as if he's afraid of hurting you, to brush a sweaty strand of hair from your face before pulling back.

“You’re reckless,” James chimes in, his pacing stopping abruptly as he spins to face you. His hands gesture wildly, his frustration tangible in every movement. “And it’s going to get you killed one day. How do you think we’re supposed to live with that?” His voice breaks slightly, and he drags his sleeve across his face as if wiping away invisible sweat.

“It’s my choice,” you snap back, frustration and pain mixing into a volatile cocktail. Your hands clutch at the edge of the couch, nails digging into the fabric. As the words leave your mouth, a sharp twinge from your injury forces a wince, your body curling slightly as you instinctively press a hand to your side. Remus’ eyes flare at the sight but he doesn’t say anything. His silence, heavy with restrained emotion, hangs in the air like a storm cloud as he watches you with an intensity that sends heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m trying to do what’s right. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” You rasp out.

“There’s a difference between bravery and… and whatever this is,” Lily says, her voice soft but no less cutting. She crosses the room in a few quick strides to kneel in front of you. Her hands hover near yours, unsure whether to comfort or reprimand. Her lips tremble as she finally places a hand on your knee, squeezing tightly. “You’re not invincible.”

“I never said I was!” you shout, the words echoing in the room. The sudden movement pulls at the freshly mended skin, and you hiss through your teeth. Sirius’ hand darts out to steady you, but you angrily shake him off. “I don’t need your help,” you snap, though your voice wavers under the strain. Pain flashes across your face, sharp and unhidden, and you clutch your side as if to anchor yourself. “I’m fine. I can handle it.” But the way your body curls in on itself betrays the truth, and even as the words leave your lips, you can feel the weight of their disbelieving stares pressing down on you.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Remus’ voice is quiet but carries the weight of authority. He’s been silent until now, his brown eyes fixed on you like he’s seeing straight through to your very soul. He steps closer, his movements deliberate, his presence steadying. He crouches down beside you, his hand brushing lightly against your thigh before settling there. “That’s enough,” he repeats, softer this time.

“But she…” James starts, but Remus cuts him off with a sharp look that has even James faltering.

“That’s my girl,” Remus says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Don’t speak to her like that.” His gaze moves over the others, daring anyone to argue. The protective edge in his voice sends a ripple of stunned silence through the room.

“She’s hurt,” he continues, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. “And if you lot keep yelling, she’s going to hurt herself more trying to argue back.” His gaze softens as he looks at you, his expression a mix of exasperation and tenderness. “Love, you have to stop doing this.”

Your eyes droop at the word—love—spoken so earnestly, so vulnerably. It’s enough to pull the fight out of you, leaving behind only the raw edges of your exhaustion and pain. Remus reaches out, brushing his knuckles gently along your jaw before cupping your face, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns over your cheekbones.

“I can’t stand by and watch my friends get hurt,” you whisper, your voice cracking. Your hands move instinctively to grip his, seeking comfort in the warmth and solidity of his touch.

“And I can’t stand by and watch you get hurt,” Remus replies, his hands cupping your face now, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “We all love you. We need you. And if you keep throwing yourself in harm’s way like this, you’re going to break us.”

The room falls silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone like a blanket. Sirius exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. He shifts closer, his hand finding your shoulder in a rare moment of stillness. James’ shoulders sag, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had flared up. Even Lily’s rigid posture softens, her hands reaching out to squeeze yours gently, her touch a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. The tears come faster now, and Remus pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as if he could hold you together through sheer force of will. His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, his voice a murmur against your hair.

“You’re my whole heart,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “And I’m not going to lose you. Not any time soon.”

The others close in around you, their presence warm and reassuring. Sirius settles himself on the arm of the couch, his hand now resting against your back, rubbing comforting circles. James drops onto the floor beside Lily, his head falling into his hands as if the argument has drained him completely. Lily leans against him, her free hand still clasping yours. The argument is over, but the love they all feel for you lingers in the room, a silent promise that they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe—even from yourself.