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iceunhie · 11 months ago

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HEART TO HEART — aventurine

premise ⁠☆ the five times aventurine bares his heart out to you, and the one time it works in his favor (or, in which aventurine says he loves you, in his own little ways.)

a/n ⁠☆ lovesick aventurine, i repeat super lovesick aventurine this is not half-assed, reader is the same reader from make a bet !!

The first time Aventurine opened up to you, he thinks that you looked like what starlight could be in human form.

He speaks your name like a victory falling upon his lips, a measured weight in its cadence. Aventurine relishes in the way you look alert, placing your attention on him (and him alone), sticking to his side like the faithful subordinate that you are.

He's come to learn that you don't exactly do friends—you are the very image of professionalism, never crossing the lines you shouldn't cross; and if he’s not careful, you could disappear at the slightest touch, just like starlight. (Would it kill you to stay just for him?)

“Have I ever told you that you look prettier when you smile?”

You pause from your game, looking up from the chessboard you and your co-worker, boss, and give him a look that one can truly only enjoy if they were either a masochist or someone who enjoyed another's disgust of them. “About 25 times now, Aventurine.”

“You've been counting? I didn't know you loved my praise that much.”

“Does every word that comes out of your lips lack sense, or is it just me?”

“Haha, it's just you.”

“Lucky me.” you roll your eyes. Aventurine's eyes melt, like butter in the sun.

Sometimes he feels the urge to always compliment you—because this is the only way for you to keep your eyes on him, to only look at him, and Aventurine has always loved looking at your eyes.

(If he kept looking, would he convey his heart to you?)

You scrunch up your face. Cute. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fondness bleeds from within him, the Kakavasha of old seeping into the cracks of his hollow shell. Aventurine plays gambles, risks death, yet this feeling of elation is something that triumphed in all of that.

He wonders if you notice; if you know that his honeyed words are genuine, as genuine as a liar like him can be. Aventurine wonders if you can tell that every poke and prod hides the underlying meaning of desperation—the words he can never bring himself to say because he thinks he's far too unworthy (for you). Still…

“I hope you know that it's true.” Just this once, he’ll let you see, just this once. “I mean it. You look prettier when you smile.”

Just this once, Aventurine thinks. He’ll bare his heart to you just this once. It's a gamble, a risk; a gamble he wants to risk.

And indeed, perhaps this is what Gaiathra’s blessing is for.

He sees you bristle like a cat, so wary—but he sees the flush coating your cheeks, reaching well up to the tips of your ears, and he knows he's won. Checkmate. “That's such a lame compliment. Is that best you executives can do?”

“Mm, wouldn't you like to know?” (To love is such an unpredictable thing.)

Aventurine may be a liar, but Kakavasha isn't, because Kakavasha strung together his remains in hopes of perceiving you.

In hopes of loving you.

—

Aventurine has only three words to describe himself: loser, liar, and murderer.

He can think of other words too, like Sigonian, IPC lapdog, coward, unworthy… a plethora of ugly, demeaning, visceral words— it makes his throat bubble with acid, coiling ang churning under the weight of his own existence. Disgusting.

There's another, too. Greedy. He's greedy. Whether as Kakavasha or Aventurine, the hunger to consume all lingers fresh in his mind. The strong takes all, and the weak is left to suffer. It's a need that knows no end, embittering all he cherished, cherishes. Like an iron chain upon his neck. He's greedy for solace, freedom; death, and—

“Aventurine, are you okay?” you.

How truly fortunate he is to behold your expression, when your concern is as slim as the chances of a collision of planets; when the expressive range of your emotions towards him range from either exasperation or irritation.

His smile feels rotten today, unbearably sweet. The smile of a thief. A liar. A Sigonian. “Are you worried about me?”

“You…” the traces of care don't slip from your expression despite the annoyance that betrays your tone. “Be serious here—you haven't been sleeping, have you? What is it? Is Sir Diamond assigning you yet another impossible mission?”

“No. Nothing of the sort, my friend.” His voice is flat. He doesn't know what's more agonizing. Knowing you care (and always have cared) for him, or knowing that he's making you go through all this trouble just to care for him.

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It's just a minor upset, don't worry.”

(How could you even care about someone like him? Is this love? Care? How could you look at him like he's worthy of being perceived? He is a liar, a cheat, a coward.)

He doesn't want to be indebted to you. Rather, he doesn't want you to see him; vulnerable, weak. Allowing you to freely enter his study as he's buried under piles of duty bound work just to come across one of the rare times where he's just Kakavasha—alone, weak, and fickle.

(Because as Kakavasha, Aventurine cannot hide his yearning for you, for deceit is unworthy of you; just like he is for you.)

Worst of all, Aventurine feels that if you see him, you’ll find out just how ugly he truly is. You'd slip away from him, like starlight. Out of reach; never to be seen again.

(Humans cannot survive without the light. Aventurine is starting to understand why.)

“Then I'll get you something to eat at least, so you can-”

“No, wait.” He speaks your name like a plea, and you stay. Relief floods through his senses.

Aventurine thinks that perhaps because of the vulnerability he's exposed, you've even become softer. Because why else would you look like that, looking at him like he's worth something? “What is it, Aventurine?”

“Can you stay by my side?” There's a crack in his voice that he wishes to hide, but you don't mind anyway. “Just this once.” Please.

A part of him hurts, having to beg. It reminds him all too much of days when the commodity code on his neck defined the crux of his existence; it is all he will be, will continue to be, all he is allowed to be. But Aventurine is no longer Kakavasha; hiding away from the world.

“...Okay.” Aventurine’s heart throbs when he sees your concerned expression. You know better than to ask questions, something he deems both a boon and a bane. “I'll stay. As- As much as you want.”

Why is he just like a fool whenever he's with you?

They say that to covet what must not be coveted is one’s downfall, and Aventurine is no different. His eyes trail over your form, every inch of the stardust that make you. “Thank you. Really.”

Aventurine has only three words to describe him: liar, loser, and murderer. There may be others, but this defines the very tapestry of his lamentable existence, from the moment he was brought forth upon the world; that of which no longer exists, dissolving like the sand of Sigonia’s deserts.

“Don't thank me, Aventurine. Just—get some rest. I'll be there when you wake up.”

“Nn. You're too kind. Should I double that paycheck of yours next month?”

He can hear you scoff, that bit of mirth you let slip reinvigorating him, sustaining him. “....Sweet dreams, Aventurine.”

And if Aventurine strains his mind enough, deludes himself enough; he can hear you say in a voice that's tender, warm; like the warm embrace of his sister, honeyed Avgin spilling from her lips. Brimming with love. Brimming with care.

‘May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you,’

Aventurine is a Sigonian lapdog, an unfettered gambler. He needs no tears, for there will be none to shed in his victory. He has never lost, and sees no need to shed tears for something that he will never experience. (His hand still shakes, betting on his life.)

‘keeping your blood eternally pulsing.’

He feels your fingers brush against the strands of his hair, taking off his glasses. Aventurine stills. Kakavasha falls, full of love, loving you.

‘…may your journey be forever peaceful,’

He watches you, staying by his side; and Aventurine can't help but add another name to define him.

‘and your schemes forever concealed.’

A fool. (a lover.)

Two system hours later, Aventurine wakes to the scent of lavender scented candles and a blanket covering his body, with the paperwork neatly handled, your writing scribbled on some of the pages.

Get well soon.

—

Envy is a face Aventurine has long grown accustomed to seeing.

He saw it as Kakavasha; the look others give when they see his eyes, when they look at his profile. As Aventurine, he sees it in the eyes of space traders as they gaze upon his wealth, how the eyes of others fall onto him as he walks past.

Others get consumed by it, others deny it; Aventurine embraces it. He knows the feeling of having nothing and wishing he could have things others can have with little effort.

But the fact that he also wears its mask is ironic, especially given the subject of his envy.

The third time Aventurine bares his heart out to you, it had been an accident.

He shouldn't be jealous, envious of those who get to help you with the IPC’s missions. It is the right, sensible thing to do; because you make him feel illogical, unable to comprehend in the haze of longing.

(Perhaps lovesickness isn't too far off a word.)

This is why you make him break free of his self-imposed apathy at seeing you off. Aventurine checks the file you'd be heading off to, letters in pristine print along with his signature, an indication of his approval. Pier Point. The name besides yours that indicate that you will be travelling together burns him like scalding iron, stinging like a brand upon his skin. Something green and uncomfortable in him roars.

In a sense of uncharacteristic recklessness and perhaps brought upon by his longing; Aventurine ends up seeing you off.

“I'll get going now- Aventurine….?” your words falter when you watch as your co-worker strides toward you, terribly fast. “I thought you weren't coming to see me.”

“I can't have my dearest friend leave without seeing their handsome colleague’s face.” he says, like a liar. Small mercies to his ability to divert his inner feelings—and to not think about the fact that seeing you makes his heart throb in an ache no hunger can satiate.

You scoff, and thankfully you don't seem that irritated. If anything, you're in a good mood today. Even let him see the way your head tilts to bite back a smile. “How fortunate of me then.”

(He is.)

“Extremely.” he calls your name like a wager, seeking an answer. “How long are you going to be away this time?”

“Almost a month, maybe. I was told that since the Pier Point Incursion, many of those under your department have been stationed to help sustain the damage.”

“...I see. My well wishes to you then, friend. Seems you've got your work cut out for you.”

He's sulking, and you can't help but laugh. Like a golden retriever. “Why so glum? Don't tell me you'd miss me.”

And for all his grace at maintaining his carefully crafted mask, Aventurine's whole world stops when he hears the sound. “How could anyone ever not miss you?”

You pause mid-laugh. Aventurine feels his face heat. He slipped up. Again, because of you. Because you always made him feel as though the universe could stop and end with you; and that this rotten hunger that gnawed at his bones might just be that he cared for you far too much for his own good.

…And now he felt like he wanted to fall back into a sandpit and hide there forever. “Is that what you think, Aventurine?”

The way you say his name is so intoxicating. It sounds hesitant, seeing through him in an instant.

“Maybe.” He can't look at you right now, or else he'll imagine it—how could you ever feel the way he feels for you? When you were you and he was… him. “I'm afraid I've been too reliant on my closest colleague.”

“Then come with me next time.” you look at him as though he'd break at any moment; tender. There's something else, too. “If you'd miss me that much.”

You flash him a cheeky, lovely smile, and Aventurine loves, loves, and loves.

How unfair you are, capable of reducing him to bits; bringing him to your light and making his heart set off like fireworks in the night.

For now, he will be Aventurine—he could never resist such a tempting offer, not when its weight was far more valuable than any treasure of all.

He smiles, business-like in nature, one used to deceive, to lie. But Aventurine—Kakavasha smiles in fondness, in adoration. “It would be my pleasure.”

—

Aventurine has always thought that the space in his heart is empty because it was meant to be.

Because he is not worthy of feeling—he is a tool to be used; every part of him taken away and exploited away by others at their whim. In short, he is his best bargaining chip at any stability in his life.

“Aventurine, you’ll catch a cold if you keep forgetting to remove your coat.”

But you don't think that way, and it confuses him, to say the least. Like a shooting star, traces of your existence are specks in his life that have become far too important for him to let go.

Whether it be indulging in his whims of poker, allowing him to see the sight of your expressions in embarrassment and resignation, or the subtleties that have led him to believe (at least, he hopes to believe) that you do care.

And each time, Aventurine embeds your name into his heart even further, dreams of you in the far corners of his heart reserved only for the dead he needed to bury. His feelings, his family, and this growing attachment to you that became too difficult to hold back.

Even now, as you hand him a towel and take his wet coat out of the way, Aventurine doesn't know if this is a blessing or a curse. You are always like this—overwhelmingly blinding, tethering himself to you without warning with your compassion. “I won't get sick.”

“Uh huh.” your eyebrows raise, and you take him inside. “That’s what all the people who get sick after being soaked in the rain say.”

“Well, aren't you just charming.”

“Thanks, I'm told it's one of my defining qualities.”

He laughs, genuine. You're probably the only one to be able to bring out this part of him. “Such an angel you are.”

“Yes, yes, very much.” You smile with faux sweetness, though Aventurine's heart stutters anyway. “Stop patronizing me and dry off already.”

“Alright, no need to get so fussy.” he throws up his hands in surrender, and he waits until you leave his quarters, strides measured as you give him privacy to change.

Aventurine wonders if you know just how much he loves you. Because he knows he does.

Recently, Kakavasha has come to a dangerous conclusion.

Perhaps the reason the space in his heart is empty was because you had been dictated to fit in it, and that Aventurine knows he’d never want you to leave.

—

Grief haunts Aventurine like a ghost, an old friend. Anguish whispers in Kakavasha’s ears and dictates its path to be his destiny.

But love comes in the form of Aventurine’s adoration for you.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die?”

“No.”

A lie. Aventurine has always had a morbid, twisted curiosity of death. Death is the earliest lesson taught to him, among the lessons of Mama Fenge and the cruel acts of the Katicans. Death is his companion, a reminder that his life is merely defined by his usefulness, his luck.

“Why are you asking?” It is a mundane question, spoken atop the glamourous balcony as you and him look down at the glittering streetlights in Penacony below, watching the people of the dreamscape live the life their reality never brought them.

“No reason. Just… I wondered.” You hum, and Aventurine notes the miniscule shiver of your body, the lowering of your gaze; you're thinking about something again. (He wonders if you'd let him listen to what you want to say.) “What death might be like in this dreamscape.”

An underlying feeling of tension. You know what Aventurine's been up to. What he's been searching for in order to act out the IPC’s plan. Though it infuriates you to know he's doing this to himself, you're powerless to do anything about it. There is a wall between you that Aventurine refuses to cross.

Instead, his silent question comes in the form of his coat draped around your back. There's no motion of rejection from you, which makes him feel nice—even if it's just for a while. “Thank you.”

You didn't need to thank him. Aventurine knows that he'd do anything for you anyway even if you don't ask a thing. But you do anyway, because you were lovely and blinding; and he yearns to grasp at even a single wisp of your reality.

“For what it's worth,” Aventurine says, the characteristic lilt of amusement in his voice gone, replaced with something authentic, “I wouldn't want you to die. Such a thing would be unfortunate for someone with lots of promise in the economic field.”

You glance at him with a funny look, exasperated but not surprised. “Well, I'm glad you think so highly of me...?”

He cringes at that, huffs out a weak ‘naturally’ as he stares out at the distance. The wall between you weakens.

“And, well, the sentiment is the same for me. I don't want you to die either.” you say, and the glow of the streetlights illuminate your face, and Aventurine's eyes don't leave your presence, wanting to burn the sight to his irises, to his pupils; never letting a fiber of your being go unloved. Retaining you and keeping you close when his hands cannot.

(If only you knew.)

“I wouldn't go down without a fight.” he says, and Aventurine takes you in—the ways in which you gaze upon the scenery below, watching how you chuckle as you hear the loud countdown to the fireworks, the way your voice has always been the light, his adoration for you a stone to grab on in his gamble in life.

There's silence. Loving you is like loving the way the air fills your lungs as you breathe, because loving you was as natural as breathing in the sandy dunes of the place he once called home, as natural as the Avgin that filled his ears, and loving you is everything to him, for Kakavasha was a dreamer, and you are his dreams personified.

Loving you reminds him of home, because you have burrowed your way into his bones, his lungs and his skin, and Kakavasha fills himself with your existence and lives. Loves.

He speaks your name like it's the last thing he could ever do, and that through you, Kakavasha lived, and Kakavasha loved you.

And like always, it's there. Your attention, on him, as he always knows it will be (and as he always hopes it shall be.) as you gaze at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. Or maybe it's the light refracting in your eyes. Aventurine doesn't really care which. “What is it?”

The wall between you two disappears completely, and Kakavasha begins anew, his heart undone.

When Aventurine finally bares his heart to you for the fifth time as the burst of fireworks ricochet across the skies, he hopes those three words will reach you.

bonus: the one time aventurine bares out his heart to you, and he gets rewarded.

Aventurine’s hair has always reminded you of the color of gold.

It is the color of the sunlight as it gently basks against your skin, the color of expensive champagne the man next to you so favors, and the color of the edges of his sunglasses.

(You've always been fond of yellow.)

“Aventurine?” you say, tone light, urging him to wake up. He's truly relentless, adamant on sulking as though his most valuable treasure would slip away from his grasp like you are right now because you were running late. “Can you let me get up now?”

“Good morning to you too.” purple eyes greet your form and an arm winds itself around your waist, pulling you even closer. “And unfortunately for you, I'm afraid I don't want to.”

“I'll be late. You know Jade hates tardiness-”

“-And I would be devastated to not have my lover by my side and leave me heartlessly.” Aventurine feigns, the falsity of his hurt not affecting you at all.

“You…” You frown at him, and Aventurine kisses the crease of your eyebrows of your face, enjoying the way your cheeks flush the like burn of alcohol down one’s throat. “You're so insufferable.”

“Mhm, whatever helps you let out that ire of yours.” he looks at you like he would the most precious of ores, the most valuable of cards—Aventurine looks at you unabashedly, wholly, in affection.

“Will you ever let me be on time?”

“Would you ever let me stop loving you?” he presses a kiss to your palm, tender as his hand traces circles on your palm. Aventurine already knows the answer.

“Thats two completely different things.” you sigh, but it's exasperatedly fond, and Aventurine’s heart skips a beat. He finds his answer when you press a chaste kiss upon the edge of his mouth. “Don't answer a question with a question.”

“It's a great conversation tactic, though. And to answer your question, no, I don't think I will.”

“Kakavasha.” You warn. His name on your lips feels a little like salvation, and Aventurine feels a warm ache fill his stomach, blooming into something not so dissimilar to devotion.

With you, there is no Aventurine of Strategems, no Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts. All that remains is Kakavasha, one that loves you, and one that you love too.

Aventurine laughs, and the die is cast. “Let's make a bet then.”

“Ugh, not another one of those.” you groan, but you make no notion to refuse anyway.

“Sway my heart enough to let you go.” he smirks, cunning as ever. You roll your eyes, though it's nothing if not affectionate, determined glint shining in your eyes just like starlight.

“Oh, that's way too easy. Deal.”

Recently, he's come to a conclusion; Aventurine thinks that if it's with you, no gamble is worthier than this.

(With you, Aventurine is whole, and he is home.)

end notes im gonna kms i hate the ending like actually hate it this fic is the product of boundless hatred and the urge to never show it to the light ever but here i am

#mhie's spirals #—stellaronhvnters #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine HSR #aventurine x reader #everyone say thank you to ieyn because she was the one who said the ending had to be fluff instead of aventurine dying in reader's arms ^^

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purple-plum-petals · 3 months ago

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⊱ What It’s Like Cuddling with Him ⊰ || Mr. Gap Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): None! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~590 words. Request: “Please I've been dying for content 😔 can I get uhhhh mr.gap content plz ?? I can't stop thinking about him popping up between ur blankets on you. Love ur homicipher stuff so far btw 🩷” Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the kind words! I’ve been enjoying writing for the fandom, too. Everyone has been so incredibly supportive, and that just means the world to me as a writer who never thinks their work is good enough. I love you, Homicipher fandom. 😭🫶 I went ahead and did headcanons about how Mr. Gap would be as a cuddle buddy since you mentioned the scene of him popping up between the blankets (and because they’re a lot easier to crank out than full-on drabbles haha). I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🕳️: The first time Mr. Gap surprised you by suddenly appearing under the covers, you nearly died of a heart attack right then in there before scolding him to never do that again. He simply rolled his eyes at you, calling you boring before disappearing into the void once again. He never did stop like you had asked him to which, honestly, wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Eventually, you got used to his sudden presence to the point where it didn’t startle you as horribly as it used to (much to his disappointment).

🕳️: Even if you don’t get startled by his appearance as often as you used to, that doesn’t mean you never get scared when he suddenly pops up. He enjoys spooking you, smiling widely whenever you gasp or let out a shriek when he lunges at your face from under the sheets like an alligator shooting out of the water to grab unsuspecting prey in its maws. He leaves with a chuckle if you smack or try to hit him, vanishing before you can do any damage. Your reactions are funny to him, and he enjoys being able to get a rise out of you.

🕳️: You eventually become fed up with him and ask him with a huff if he wants to cuddle after lifting your covers and seeing his face in the darkness underneath, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He grimaces and asks you what that even means, not familiar with the term. After explaining it to him as best as you could considering the language barrier, his semi-disgusted expression doesn’t change, and he leaves faster than it took you to blink. This continues for a while, you ask him with a smirk if he wants to cuddle with you which successfully manages to chase the trickster away (you just have to threaten him with physical affection... good information to know).

🕳️: However, one day, Mr. Gap doesn’t leave after your half-hearted threat. He stays and stares up at you with a blank look on his face before, to your shock, agrees to cuddle with you. It’s strange laying in bed with a ghost that doesn’t have a body in the conventional sense, his head resting on your chest while his arms rest limply at your sides (he usually doesn’t hold you back, instead laying on you like a dead fish). While you can feel the presence of a form on top of you, whenever you try to catch a glimpse, you cannot see anything resembling a body underneath the covers. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, though, and he reminds you of a weighted blanket.

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t move or make much noise whenever you two are cuddling, an occurrence that has become more frequent as time goes on. He isn’t the biggest fan of physical touch, but he finds himself not minding the way your hands feel threading through his hair or the sound of your beating heart while his ear is pressed against your chest. The noise is strangely comforting...

🕳️: If you inquire about his lack of commentary, he looks up at you and smirks, asking if you would give him your heart. You just tell him no with a smile since you were used to his questions at this point and close your eyes, your hands returning to combing out in knots in his black locks without another word… He kind of hates how he doesn’t find himself disgusted by your touch, and he can’t help but wonder why that is.

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #homicipher x reader #homicipher x you #mr gap #mr gap x reader #mr gap x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher headcanons #imagines #headcanons #fluff #x reader #reader insert

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anantaru · 11 months ago

Note

two new characters of hsr were confirmed. Aventurine and Gallagher one-night stand?? LIKE??

including. aventurine, gallagher

synopsis. having a one-night stand

cw. [ex]plicit, reader wears a dress, strangers to lovers, semi public (outside the bar, gallagher's part), fingering, car syx, dirty talk, gallagher smells like alcohol but he is not drunk okay he just smells like it HAHA, fem! reader

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + one night stand in the car

hot exhales of air hit your glossed lips, and those erratic movements of your hips, all adjoined to your skimpy dress sticking to your body— you do not think, do not form any thoughts, you only leave it to the lust to guide your figure as you straddle the hips of a stranger.

your lips bruised, thoroughly bitten when aventurine captures them with his heated tongue— he laps across it while grabbing a fistful of your ass to rub you against his erection, practically dragging the moans off the tip of your tongue.

his name, you've never really heard it before yet when you two coincidentally met, it's like he knew exactly what to say in order to have you wrapped around his finger.

and before you knew it, you ended up in the back of his car, driven by desire to taste the handsome stranger with everything you've got. "kinda crowded in here, ugh... whatever, come here," he smirks at you, devilishly, as his hands hold your hips dear and push you closer. you're too aroused to even function properly anymore, both loving and hating the anticipation of almost reaching your climax as the candid scent of his cologne made your mouth water. you grip at his shoulders as his fast rhythm sets in, your heart beat rising when he bottoms out to fuck your cunt faster.

"oh, fuck…" he grits his teeth when you shudder tight on top of him now, rutting your swollen pussy into his cock as moan a slides up through your throat, "i need to keep you just like that," he boldly rasps into your ear, low and urgent with a smirk almost too candid, almost too pure, contradicting his hungry movements, "keep you like this, yeah? hot and desperate and gorgeous until, until… until…"

it's the perfect amount of speed, pressure and thickness, aventurine fucks you like he's known you for years, and his lips taste so poetic, softly licking at them just wasn't doing it. he personally got fond of the joyful lightness that's in your eyes, or the slightest tingling from the exhales of your moans hitting his eardrums as he finds himself becoming addicted to a stranger.

his eyelashes flutter at your heavenly tunes as he looks down between the mess you've made— your arousal melting into shaft as the air gets filled with that of sinful scents, immediately sending sparks of deep enchant through the entirety of your spine.

— ꒰ GALLAGHER ꒱ + one night stand outside the bar

there's no one else on this side of the alley, and the only clatters and chit-chats you could notice were shrill, outside yells and slurred talks coming from drunk people standing outside the bar— yet again, from this particular place, you were alone in the cold night with the pulse of your heightened heartbeat washing over you.

gallagher, the name of the stranger who weirdly enough, took his time to discover your secret places and memorize your curves. the man couldn't possibly stop sliding his warm palms over your skin before covering your chest, it's futile, tickling your collarbones, watching you whine, then trailing his fingers along your neck, looking at how you're swallowing down the budding saliva on your tongue.

he exhales through his parted mouth as you take in the scent of cheap alcohol, wanting nothing more than his big, strong hands to keep touching you like that all night long.

he continues to stroke the planes of your face, marvelling in the gentleness of your features, before ultimately rounding up his inspection to your arms— yes, indeed, he's certain he memorized you entirely, giving you a little hum of appreciation as your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close.

gallagher captures your lips in a melting heat of passion as you lean back against the cold wall, closing your eyes to be carried along by the sensual moments of his traces guiding you.

his large hands on your hips made you shiver— you do not know the man yet they feel so good, they promise yet conceal so much. the loudness of people outside too— or the penetrating talks as you've been hidden behind a wall of golden lust, concealed by an even bigger body towering over you.

it made this situation so much more filthier, hotter and send waves of pleasure to overwhelm you.

the coldness of the wall left an impression on you, a cold hug that was ultimately cancelled by gallagher's warm hands messily pushing your dress up to find your soaked panties.

he doesn't waste more time before he presses two fingers against your clothed folds, slowly getting there. you're moving as one, and the laps of his tongue on your lips were thick like molasses, always licking his pink muscle over your own before reaching down to pull the drenched panties aside, his raw digits now hovering over your hole.

by no means was this something you'd normally do, just hook up with a random stranger— it was altogether too quick, to unpersonal yet somehow this particular night, it was stronger in its pleasure and heat than you've ever known it before.

you open your legs a little to invite him as the muscles in his arms bunch under his skin when he fingers you with two thick digits curled deep inside— although shockingly enough, he's tender and gentle with you, which came as a surprise, testing the waters on your pussy as he scissors your hole and teases your walls with his fingertips.

"that feels good?" gallagher questions whilst watching in awe how you ride his hand for him, the rough pads of his digits pulling the breath out of you as your body tingles and arches into his chest, "yeah.. that's s-so good," you close your eyes, both breathing hard— yet in truth, it was already easy for you to discern a big smile on his face, one of being greatly pleased by your answer while the man was marveling at the smoothness and the lovely muscles of your hole twitching around him.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #gallagher x reader #gallagher smut #hsr x you #hsr gallagher #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x you #aventurine x you #gallagher x you

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sun-kissy · 2 months ago

Note

hi, my darling!! i love, love, your writing, and just wanted to say that i am obsessed! may i please request scarf (i can't find the emoji) 😭 with our dearest remus? the prompt would be — “is there anything i can say to make this less awkward?”

thank you so much darling! <3 and here’s a scarf for you🧣(found the emoji for you haha 😉)

mistletoe | r.l.

— “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

remus lupin x reader —★— word count 1.7k

summary: you attend your neighbour, sirius’ christmas party, where remus saves you from a bully before kissing you under the mistletoe :)

cw: fluff, mean bully cormac mclaggen, protective remus <333, reader gets panicky, sirius is a protective + matchmaker friend haha

Your eyes dart around the living room nervously, drink sloshing around the cup in your hand. The music from the speakers is booming, blaring disco lights making it hard to see much. You can’t seem to spot any familiar faces.

Sirius, your next-door neighbour and friend, was throwing a huge Christmas party. All his old friends were there too. You were familiar with them, having seen them quite a bit whenever they went over. And they seemed nice for the most part, if a bit raucous. You think you’d probably feel better around them than stranded in this buzzing, foreign crowd.

You continue taking cautious steps forward, eyes trained on the ground as you push your way through bodies of people dancing and snogging and puking and – fuck.

You don’t even realise that you’ve spilled your drink all over someone until he, not very nicely, alerts you to it.

“Hey!”

It doesn’t occur that he’s calling out to you. Your hearing is all but closed off to the noise of the party.

“Hey – you!” All of a sudden there’s a hand wrapped around your wrist, and you freeze, quickly whipping around to find the source. It feels like your flight or fight mode has been activated, and you’re squirming away before you can even spot his face in the sea of people.

Breaths are loud, deafening in your ears. They might be yours, or maybe they’re those of the crowd starting to gather round. You’re not quite sure.

Your eyes land on him. The buff blonde in front of you, grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you closer. There’s words coming out of his mouth. Spit landing on your nose. But you can’t seem to make out a thing he’s saying, phrases like stupid girl and bitch slipping through your consciousness and adding fuel to the fire of panic in your throat.

You open your mouth to apologise, though you’re not quite sure what you’ve done. Nothing comes out but a pathetic croak.

The scary man’s voice gets louder and louder. You’ve never quite seen rage in human form, but here he was. Here he was. And he was going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey, man.”

Another voice, getting closer. It’s softer. Gentler. You feel an arm around your waist, and the touch is kind enough to not make you want to pull away.

“Let go of her, please. It was an honest mistake.”

“But this bitch –”

“I said,” you can hear the hint of hardness in the nice man’s voice, “Let go.” Somehow, you know it’s not directed at you. His grip on your waist tightens the slightest bit, but careful not to hurt.

There’s a beat of silence before the harsh hand leaves your wrist. The relief is immediate, the familiar feeling of a come down after a painful high. Your skin doesn’t feel so foreign to you anymore.

“Thank you,” the kind man says from beside you, though he doesn’t sound very grateful. “I’m sure Sirius could spare you one of his shirts, if you’d like.” Once again, there’s no actual apology in his tone.

Without waiting for a reply, you feel yourself being gently steered away. You look around as you walk, spotting expressions of shock and humour and all sorts of funny feelings.

You twist your head to take a look at your saviour, feeling like your heart might stop beating all over again.

Remus Lupin. You liked him more than you knew him.

You’ve seen him a few times at Sirius’ place, spoken to him even fewer. Yet nothing but sweetness came to mind at the thought of him; all softness and pretty scars and kind smiles. You think maybe the word gentleman was made for him. Even Sirius seemed to be lovelier in Remus’ presence, which was saying a lot, because you thought your neighbour really was quite lovely already.

You’d never seen Remus so riled up before. Honestly, you didn’t think he was capable of it. There was a silly little feeling in your tummy, to know that he had gotten so worked up to protect you.

“Sweetheart,” his voice brings you back to the present. And he’s back to normal, back to the soft, calm man you so adored.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles bemusedly, though his brows are bent with concern. You realise he’s brought you to the kitchen, where there’s fewer people and more air to breathe. The feeling of his thumbs gently rubbing your wrists is almost too much to bear. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m –” you try not to shudder as the thought of the angry man comes back to you, “fine. I’m fine.”

Remus gives your hands a squeeze. “Okay. You’re okay now, yeah? I’m sorry about Cormac. He was a dick in high school too,” he sighs. “Once a dick, always a dick.”

You let out a giggle. “Really?”

He grins, a proper one. “Yeah, really. One time, James — you know James, right? The bespectacled one with the curly hair —” he continues when you nod, “— yeah, so James walked right up to Cormac and —“

“Hey,” Remus is interrupted by Sirius, breathless as he shoves past people, into the kitchen. His brows are pinched together as he pulls you into a half hug. “Hey, babe. Are you good? I heard what happened just now with McLaggen, the asshole.”

“I’m okay, really,” you squeak out as Sirius pulls you even closer. “Sirius —“

You feel your cheeks heating up when you hear Remus chuckling. Sirius lets you go from the hug now, but his grip on your shoulders is vice-like as he looks you over like a concerned mother hen. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“Well, he did, but —“

“He touched you?” Sirius sounds close to appalled. Remus is snickering now, and you feel like digging yourself a hole and crawling into it. “The bastard! I’m gonna —“

“Sirius!” you hiss, cutting him off. “I’m all good, I swear. Remus got me out of it.”

Sirius flicks his gaze over to Remus. In a split second, you know what’s coming when you see the twinkle in his eyes.

“Sirius. Don’t you dare.”

He flashes you a quick grin before turning to his friend, wiggling his eyebrows. “So, loverboy here saved you, huh?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow at you questioningly. You turn to Sirius with a pleading look; you knew he knew all about your little crush. But of course, he wouldn’t stop there.

“Did he swoop you into his arms? Catch you as you fell?”

“No…“ you mumble shyly, shoulders up to your ears.

“Well,” Sirius smirks, “He can now!”

The only warning you get is a wink, before Sirius’ hand is on your shoulder and he gives you a push.

You let out a yelp as you tumble backwards, straight into Remus.

Embarrassment washes over you as his strong arms immediately come around your waist, swiftly pressing onto your stomach as he steadies you. “Woah, woah, easy there. Are you okay?”

You blink. “I… um… I…”

The feeling of his hands on you is distracting, too much to take. It’s like your legs have turned to jelly, tongue to rubber. Words turn to dust on the tip of it.

Maybe this is how you perish, you think. You’d die of shyness in Remus’ arms; perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.

A loud gasp startles you out of your reverie. Both you and Remus turn to find Sirius staring at you with his hands on his cheeks, eyes dramatically wide and mouth agape.

“Oh. My. God,” he gushes, stepping towards you. “What do we have here?”

You shoot him a glare, hoping it conveys both your desperation and annoyance. Sirius seems, or rather pretends, to understand nothing.

“Would you look at that?” he continues with a grin, chucking his head upwards. You look up to feel your heart drop.

There’s a quiet snort from Remus at the sight. Green leaves, red ribbon adorning it. Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Sirius exclaims, as if it weren’t painfully obvious.

You cringe, immediately hanging your head to stare at your hands. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and hope the red on your cheeks isn’t as obvious as you think it is.

Sirius is annoyingly loud as he continues to yap, but your heartbeat is louder.

Remus clears his throat. You blink, whipping your head upwards to find him looking at you with an apologetic smile. He rubs the nape of his neck bashfully. “Is there anything I can say to make this less awkward?”

A soft huff of laughter escapes you despite yourself. “No, I… I don’t think so.”

He grins. You feel your resolve melting into a puddle. “Kiss me.”

Remus blinks, eyes widening for a split second before his lips quirk upwards. “What?”

“Kiss me,” you breathe, hoping you don’t sound as anxious as you feel. “I mean, not because I want you to or anything —“ you laugh nervously, “— but because it’s mistletoe, and — oh.”

Remus’ lips are on yours in a moment. The squeak you let out dissolves into his mouth, hand gently cupping the back of your head.

You feel his soft hands on your waist and his sweet lips on yours and you feel like you’re falling all over again.

This is what that muggle singer Sirius loved — Elvis Presley — must’ve been feeling, you think, when he wrote Can’t Help Falling in Love. He must’ve been kissing the epitome of love itself, because you seemed to be falling into Remus, melting into his touch. If you were a fool for rushing in, then so be it. You’d be anything to taste his lips again.

Remus lets go all too soon, though you’d probably feel the same way if he let go after a lifetime. He gives you that sweet, sweet smile again, and you can’t help but smile back.

“You know, we don’t always have to be under the mistletoe to kiss.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” Remus grins, “like right now.”

He tugs on your waist, stumbling until your back hits the wall. He kisses you again, and you’re suddenly very grateful for Sirius. You’d have to thank him for three things this Christmas — introducing you to Remus, inviting you to this party, and most importantly — for that song reference.

san’s christmas sleepover

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fairene · 2 months ago

Note

Could you maybe do a Princess of Monaco with cl16 and they just hard launch their relationship

love your writing

whispers of the crown / cl16 x fem!reader

warnings ⋯ social pressures, fluff, established relationship.

a/n ⋯ thought this ask was cute, thank you for sending it in! got this done in like an hour haha. hope you guys enjoy something a bit different x.

wc ⋯ 3.2k (not proofread.)

the annual monaco royal gala was a spectacle like no other—a glittering event where power and prestige mingled under the light of a thousand chandeliers. you stood at the center of it all, the princess of monaco, a title that carried the weight of centuries yet somehow felt like a cage at times.

your gown clung to you like a second skin, shimmering silk that made you feel both exposed and invincible. the whispers in the room followed your every step—admiration, envy, and just a hint of speculation. you were used to it, the silent judgment that came with your station, but tonight, something felt different.

then you saw him.

charles.

he wasn’t just another face in the crowd, not to you. his presence burned like a quiet fire, standing apart from the gilded masses. the soft tug of a smile played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met, a secret shared between the two of you.

and just like that, the room felt smaller.

the room seemed to erupt the moment your gaze lingered on him a second too long. the whispers became a low roar, a cascade of murmurs swelling into something palpable. heads turned in unison, like waves pulled by an unseen tide.

“is that—?”

“are they—?”

questions hung in the air, unanswered but charged with electricity. the paparazzi, ever-persistent even in the gilded confines of the gala, sprang into action. camera flashes erupted like lightning, capturing every stolen glance, every subtle shift in your expression.

you felt the weight of their eyes, but it wasn’t the suffocating burden you’d expected. instead, it was exhilarating, like standing on the edge of a precipice and daring gravity to pull you in.

charles didn’t hesitate. in three deliberate strides, he was beside you, his presence anchoring you amidst the storm of attention. he offered his arm—casual, confident, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“shall we?” his voice was low, meant only for you, but the curve of his lips carried the slightest hint of mischief.

you took his arm without a second thought, your hand resting lightly on his. the silk of his sleeve was cool beneath your fingers, but the warmth of his touch was undeniable.

the crowd surged closer, questions shouted over the din of clicking cameras. you heard none of it. all you could focus on was the way charles guided you through the chaos, his composure steady, his movements protective without being overbearing.

“they’re going to have a field day with this,” you murmured, your lips barely moving.

“let them,” he said, his grin widening as he glanced down at you. “they’ll only see what we want them to.”

you couldn’t help but smile at that, a quiet thrill coursing through you. this was no accident. tonight was yours—yours and his. a declaration, bold and unapologetic, played out on the grandest stage imaginable.

as you walked side by side, the flashes of light and the cacophony of voices faded into the background. for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just the princess of monaco. you were you. and you were with him.

together, you faced the world. and for once, the world didn’t feel so daunting.

the first time you met charles, it was almost laughably mundane. nothing like the grandeur of tonight, no chandeliers or cameras, just the quiet lull of waves lapping against the docks at the monaco marina. you’d slipped away from another interminable royal obligation, drawn to the water like it could somehow unmoor you from the expectations tethered to your title.

he’d been there, leaning casually against the side of a sleek yacht, his phone in hand but his attention elsewhere. you didn’t recognize him immediately—just a man with sun-kissed skin, tousled hair, and an air of ease that felt foreign to your world.

“long night?” he’d asked when your paths crossed, his voice warm and tinged with curiosity.

you’d laughed, a short, quiet thing that sounded almost foreign to your own ears. “something like that.”

he didn’t pry, didn’t ask who you were or why you were wandering the marina in an evening gown. instead, he introduced himself with a smile that was somehow both charming and disarming.

“charles,” he said, extending a hand. “you?”

you hesitated. you were so used to the weight of your name, the reactions it elicited. but with him, it didn’t feel like a weapon. “just call me…” you paused, then offered a playful smile. “whatever you want.”

that was the start of it—what you’d both come to call the in-between.

weeks turned into months of stolen moments: secret coffee dates at quiet cafés, long drives along the coast where no one would recognize you, late-night phone calls filled with quiet laughter and unspoken truths. he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years, like you were more than just a title or a symbol.

but it wasn’t easy. not for him, balancing the demands of formula 1 with the secrecy of your relationship. not for you, living under the constant scrutiny of a nation that saw you as theirs. every decision you made felt weighted, every risk magnified.

“what happens if they find out?” you’d asked him one night, your voice barely above a whisper.

he’d cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady. “then they’ll know i love you. and that’s not something i’ll ever apologize for.”

you’d wanted to believe him, wanted to let his certainty wash away your doubts. but the fear lingered, the knowledge that one wrong move could unravel everything.

and yet, here you were. no more hiding, no more secrets. tonight wasn’t about fear. it was about the truth. your truth. his truth. your truth together.

the weight of your position had always been a constant in your life. every smile, every gesture, every carefully chosen word—measured, analyzed, and judged. being a princess wasn’t just about tradition; it was about maintaining a legacy, a role you hadn’t chosen but one you were expected to embrace. falling in love with someone like charles, a man so rooted in his own world of adrenaline and fame, only added to the complexity.

you often found yourself questioning the wisdom of it all. what if the people didn’t approve? what if your family didn’t understand? every time you stepped into the public eye, the fear of exposure loomed like a shadow, a reminder of how fragile this thing between you was.

charles had his own burdens. formula 1 wasn’t just a career—it was his life, his identity. every second of his day was accounted for, his performance scrutinized by millions. yet, somehow, he always found time for you.

but it wasn’t without cost. you’d seen it in the exhaustion he tried to hide, in the way his brow furrowed when his phone buzzed with another notification from his team.

“am i making this harder for you?” you’d asked once, after a particularly grueling weekend where he’d flown halfway across the world just to spend a single evening with you.

he’d looked at you like you’d said something absurd, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache. “you make everything worth it,” he’d said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “but it’s not easy. none of this is easy.”

there were nights when the pressure seemed insurmountable, when the weight of his schedule and your obligations felt like too much to bear. you’d fight over the smallest things—not because you wanted to, but because the stress had nowhere else to go.

“you don’t get it,” you’d snapped during one particularly tense moment. “if this goes wrong, i don’t just lose you. i lose everything.”

his silence had been deafening, his jaw tight as he processed your words. but then he’d stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“and what about me?” his voice was low, almost breaking. “i’ve put everything on the line for you. my time, my focus—everything i have to give. but it’s not enough unless we’re in this together.”

it was moments like those that grounded you, his raw honesty cutting through the haze of fear and doubt. he wasn’t just asking for your trust; he was offering his, unconditionally.

and maybe that’s why you’d finally decided to stop hiding. because as terrifying as the risks were, the thought of losing him—of never fully claiming this love—was even worse.

the crowd was a sea of opulence—gowns that swept the marble floors, tuxedos tailored within an inch of perfection. the gala was already alive with chatter and clinking glasses, the air thick with expectation. but when the grand doors opened and you stepped inside, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

your gown was breathtaking, a masterpiece of shimmering gold that clung to your figure like molten metal, cascading into a delicate train that followed your every step. the intricate embroidery glittered under the light, refracting like the sun catching the mediterranean waves.

and then there was charles. his sharp tuxedo was classic black, the lines crisp and clean, but it was his presence that stole the room. there was something effortless about the way he carried himself, like he belonged both on a podium and in the midst of royalty.

his hand was in yours, warm and steady, grounding you even as the room erupted.

gasps rippled through the crowd, whispers following like a tide.

“charles leclerc?”

“are they… together?”

the paparazzi didn’t hesitate. camera flashes exploded like fireworks, illuminating the space in bursts of light. it should’ve felt overwhelming, but instead, it felt like the moment you’d been holding your breath for.

charles’s hand slipped to the small of your back, a subtle but unmistakable gesture of protection and possession. his touch was light yet firm, his thumb brushing against the silk of your gown in a way that made your pulse quicken.

you glanced up at him, catching the faint curve of his lips—a smile meant only for you.

and then you smiled too, soft but resolute, your expression speaking volumes. it was a smile that said, yes, this is real. yes, i’m all in.

the crowd’s reaction was a symphony of shock and intrigue, the room buzzing with the unspoken acknowledgment that something monumental had just happened.

you let charles guide you further into the room, his confidence bolstering your own. every step you took together felt like a statement, a declaration that neither of you was willing to hide anymore.

you were tired of secrets, tired of stolen moments in the shadows. tonight, under the dazzling light of chandeliers and camera flashes, you were finally stepping into the light.

the music shifted, a slow, sultry melody filling the grand ballroom. the lights dimmed slightly, casting a golden glow over the floor as couples began to sway in time with the rhythm.

you felt charles’s hand at your back tighten gently, a silent invitation.

“dance with me,” he murmured, his voice low and close to your ear.

you hesitated for only a second, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down on you. but when you looked up at him, his gaze was steady, a quiet reassurance that melted away your doubt.

“always,” you said softly.

he led you to the center of the floor, the crowd parting like the sea around you. the moment you stepped into his arms, the world seemed to narrow, the noise and chaos dimming until it was just the two of you.

his hand found yours, his fingers interlocking with yours in a way that felt natural, inevitable. his other hand rested against the small of your back, drawing you closer, his touch firm but reverent.

you moved together, swaying in perfect sync, his every step guiding yours. there was an ease to it, a connection that made it feel like you’d been dancing together for years.

the camera flashes didn’t stop, their bright bursts punctuating the intimate moment. you knew the photos would be everywhere by morning, headlines speculating, dissecting, scrutinizing. but for once, you didn’t care.

charles’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression soft yet intense. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

you smiled, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep, somewhere untouchable. “i’m better than okay.”

his lips curved in response, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there, in front of everyone. instead, he twirled you gently, spinning you out before pulling you back into his arms, closer than before.

your heart raced as you rested your head against his shoulder, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. his breath was warm against your temple, his hold on you unshakable.

around you, the flashes continued, the room abuzz with murmurs and whispers. but inside his embrace, it was quiet, the rest of the world slipping away.

“let them look,” he said, his voice a low rumble that only you could hear. “this is ours, not theirs.”

and in that moment, you believed him. because while the cameras captured the spectacle, the love between you wasn’t for show. it was real, raw, and entirely yours.

the next morning, the world woke up to you.

“princess of monaco and formula 1 star: a royal romance revealed!”“charles leclerc steals the show—and the princess’s heart!”“monaco’s golden couple: love in the spotlight.”

tabloid covers were plastered with photos of the two of you on the dance floor, his hand at your back, your gaze locked on his. social media buzzed incessantly—fans, critics, and curious onlookers dissecting every detail. your dress was trending, his smirk immortalized in a thousand tweets, and the hashtag #royalromance skyrocketed to the top of the charts.

the reactions were as varied as the people giving them.

your family was the first storm to weather. your father had called before sunrise, his tone sharp but laced with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, perhaps.

“you should have warned us,” he said, the weight of his words heavy.

“would it have changed anything?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

silence stretched across the line before he sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale. “he seems… respectful. we’ll discuss this further.”

charles’s world wasn’t spared either. his fans erupted in equal parts delight and heartbreak. some celebrated his happiness, their social media profiles flooded with edits of the two of you. others were less kind, their jealousy bleeding into bitter comments.

“how does he have time for this when he’s supposed to be focused on racing?” one tweet read.

but it was the people closest to you both who mattered most. his childhood friends texted him with teasing congratulations, while his team principal offered a wary but approving nod during their morning meeting.

you both found solace in the few who didn’t see you as headlines. your closest friend, charlotte, had texted a simple, “finally. you look happy.”

by the time the day faded into night, you and charles found yourselves back in the privacy of his apartment, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world.

you were curled up on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, holding you close. the television was on but muted, the images of your own faces flashing across the screen.

“we did it,” you said, your voice soft.

he tilted his head to look at you, his smile easy and warm. “we did.”

there was a moment of quiet between you, the kind that only comes after a storm. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, his presence grounding you.

“are you scared?” he asked after a while, his voice steady but filled with a quiet vulnerability.

you thought about it, letting the question settle. “a little,” you admitted. “but it’s worth it. you’re worth it.”

his grip tightened, his lips brushing against your temple. “and you’re worth everything,” he whispered.

for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so daunting.

the sea stretched endlessly before you, a shimmering expanse of blue meeting the horizon. the yacht rocked gently beneath you, the salty breeze carrying a soothing lull. it was just the two of you, tucked away from the world, the chaos of the past few days fading into a distant memory.

you sat on the deck, the setting sun casting golden hues over everything. charles leaned back against the railing, his legs stretched out, his hand resting lightly on yours. the soft rhythm of the waves was the only sound between you, a perfect contrast to the cacophony of cameras and whispers you’d left behind.

“so,” he began, his voice breaking the quiet, “what now, princess?”

you smiled at the teasing lilt in his tone but didn’t answer right away. instead, you watched as the sun dipped lower, the colors of the sky bleeding into the water.

“everything,” you finally said, turning to meet his gaze. “whatever comes next. your races, my duties… all of it.”

his brows lifted slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “ambitious.”

“necessary,” you corrected, leaning into him. “i don’t want to live a life where we’re just managing. i want it all—with you.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his touch was tender, his gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity.

“you make me believe we can have it,” he murmured. “the racing, the crazy schedules, the royal events… and somehow, still, us.”

you nodded, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the back of his hand. “because we’re worth it. and we’ll figure it out. together.”

a comfortable silence settled over you again, the kind that felt more like a promise than an absence of words. the sun had almost disappeared now, the first stars twinkling in the deepening sky.

charles shifted, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his chest. you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder of everything solid and real between you.

“you know,” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful, “no matter where life takes us, no matter how loud it gets out there… you’ll always be my quiet.”

you tilted your head up, your smile soft but radiant. “and you’ll always be my chaos.”

his laughter was quiet, his lips finding yours in a kiss that felt like the culmination of everything—your love, your fears, your hopes.

as the stars reflected off the calm sea, you knew, deep in your bones, that this was it. not the end of the story, but the beginning of everything that mattered. together, you’d face the chaos and carve out your quiet moments. because in each other, you’d found not just love, but a home.

and the world, for all its noise, could never take that away.

taglist ⋯

@landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora@idgasb@amalialeclerc@laneyspaulding19@staurdvst@oreosareara@sideboobrry11@mortallyblueninja@fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot@fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x y/n #anon ask #f1 fic #formula 1 #🍋*—mine

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ushouldwatchhaikyuu · 7 months ago

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listen i love "kageyama whose so touch starved he freaks out & doesnt know how to handle the slightest bit of physical affection at all" as much as the next person. HOWEVER i also think it would make a lot of sense if he was just. a normal dude. Who Is Not Used To Physical Affection so whenever his teammates hug him or smth he just goes ?? ok. and goes on with his life.

so like everyone's surprised but kageyama kinda just becomes the go-to huggable person in karasuno?? like whenever someone (specially the clingier ones like hinata or nishinoya) want cuddles they just go to him cause he kinda just. stands there and goes sure why not.

and maybe one day in training camp kuroo or someone goes "haha hey kags little question... why do u.... like.... y'know..... do that?"

and Kageyama's got at least two (2) of his teammates sitting on his lap playing with his hair and he looks at kuroo with a straight face like "wdym"

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq #haikyuu shitpost #hq shitpost #kageyama tobio #kageyama hcs #kageyama headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #kagehina #ushouldseemyfavs

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mondaymelon · 2 years ago

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— 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 "𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲". ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ cw: fluff. that's just about it

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

“Love, where are you?”

XIAO appears almost instantly by your side, albeit looking the slightest confused - his puzzlement written all over his face as he glances at you with his gilded gaze. “I told you to call my name if you needed me, so why are you…”

You beam at his response, suddenly throwing your arms around him, to which he hesitates, then returns your embrace. “Because you’re the one I love, silly!” Leaning forward, you give the adeptus a light peck on the cheek, withdrawing as fast as you advanced.

Touching a gloved hand to his flushed face, the male stays silent for the count of three before speaking once more, “...You’re really so embarrassing at times…”

“Aw, you didn’t want me to call you that…?” Figure slumping, you pout, giving him sad eyes.

“...N-No, that’s… not what I meant.” Of course he can’t refuse you when you’re looking at him with such a sparkling, innocent adoration glowing in your eyes.

“So I can call you that, then?”

This earns you a long sigh from the stoic man, but his expression shows no exasperation. “Must all you mortals be so trivial?”

“Ah, just give me an answer…”

Has he been waiting for this moment? Perhaps he has, for now Xiao leans forward and returns your kiss from before with one of his own, the lightest smile gracing his lips.

“...Do whatever you’d like, love.” ♥

“Love, what are you up to?”

It takes KAZUHA a ten second pause to respond, glancing up from the book he’s reading in the dim lamplight of the Crux residencies. “...Me?” The way he’s blinking so rapidly is almost humorous.

“Who else?” You smile playfully at him, shifting closer to his tensed figure to get a peek over his shoulder, trying to glance at what he’s reading so diligently. “Of course I mean you, love.”

It’s hard not to tease him when his expression is so flustered. He’s quite the calm man, but this once, your antics have managed to catch him off guard.

It takes another moment for the male to meet your gaze, but when he does, his crimson eyes sparkle as red dusts his cheeks. “Haha, you really do always catch me by surprise, don’t you? It’d do me well to fetch myself a piece of paper and a pen now… I’m sure I wouldn’t want to forget this moment.”

Setting down his book next to him, he leans into your body, smiling at your warmth. Moments like these are bliss, where no words are shared, yet the two of you reside comfortably in each other’s presence.

When he quietly glances up at you, the shimmering affection in his eyes is startlingly apparent.

“That’s what I love about you, dove.” ♥

“Love, c’mon, look at me…”

And just like that, your words have drawn WANDERER in once more. His expression is enraged, that’s for sure, but the slight flush on his cheeks, almost hidden by his hair, is undeniable.

“Wh-” He pauses, whipping around, eyes wide. “What do you think you’re doing, calling me by such… frivolous titles…!” Strange, why is he acting like you’ve committed some sort of grave offense?

“Hm? But love, what’s wrong?” You smile, practically beaming as the anger on his face only grows more apparent.

“Oh- You- You know exactly what you’re doing, aren’t you? Listen here…” And just like that, his stuttering tone shifts. Suddenly his gaze is cold as it's now trained on you. “Who do you think you are, to assume that you are to call me such names?”

Perhaps you know, or perhaps you don’t. Names carry an obscure value to the male, one that he can’t even begin to unravel. After all, he is one of many names as well… Kunizukushi, Scaramouche… and now, Wanderer. Each of those titles that seem to shape just who he is, molding his identity with each letter.

So for you to call him that word so carefreely…

He’s not exactly sure how it feels, but there’s a knot in his chest, right where his heart would be.

“…Sorry.” You sheepishly sigh. “That was unbecoming. I didn’t realize you’d be so… sorry.”

Ah, look what he’s done. Now you’re apologizing for his problem. And before he knows it, the words slip through his mouth, true to the feeling that’s beginning to overwhelm him.

“No, don’t apologize.”

“Just… tell me, how should I be feeling right now?”

“It’s hard to think, and for some reason, my face is all red…” ♥

(a/n) not scara being the only one who doesn't call you a name back 💀

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spencerreidenjoyer · 9 months ago

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stress relief | spencer reid x reader

wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+

warning/tags: established relationship, face fucking, blowjobs, vaginal sex, submissive!spencer, whiny!spencer, insecure!spencer (just a little, more like awkward lol), confident (and insanely horny) fem!reader

a/n: i'm back with more pwp!! surprise!!! i have no excuse. i wrote this in about 2 days. i needed to get it out of my system i think this spencer (s3-4) is crazy and perfect and i need him. also thank you for 100 followers on this little reid blog of mine! i hope to keep writing more on here <3

(p.s: you can find this fic on ao3!)

When you get on your knees between Spencer’s legs, looking up at him with wide eyes that spell sin, Spencer knows he’s in for a wild ride.

“You’ve been working too hard, Spence,” you say, shaking your head, speaking like you’re talking about the weather and not like you have a hand on his crotch, steadily stiffening under your touch.

You watch Spencer’s throat bob as he gulps. He blinks quickly, once, twice. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so,” you hum, fingers already toying with the button of his work slacks. Spencer had gotten home late from work tonight, but was still fretting over the stacks of reports on his desk in his home office in the apartment you share. After dinner, you’d convinced him to lounge on the couch for a bit, instead of getting back to work – leading you to where you are right now. “I think you need to relieve some of your stress.”

Almost like he’s nervous, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “What are you thinking?”

“Orgasms release endorphins which contribute to stress relief, no?” You parrot the fun fact Spencer’s told you countless times, a small smirk on your face. As if your hand gently palming his cock hasn’t made your intentions more than obvious.

His eyebrows raise. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Wow, you could at least sound a little more enthusiastic about your girlfriend giving you head.” You deadpan, but you pop the button of his slacks anyway.

Spencer squeaks. “Sorry. I– I really want you to blow me.”

“I know, darling,” you coo, pulling down the zipper of his fly slowly, feeling the hardness of his cock pressed against it. His underwear is a bright pink when it gets exposed. You chuckle to yourself. “Cute."

Spencer flusters, laughing nervously. “Oh my God. I kind of forgot I was wearing those. Haha. Sorry."

“Baby,” you frown slightly. You’re not mad, not in the slightest, just amused with how he’s acting. You place your hands on his thighs, pausing with any of the action. “Why are you sorry? I think you’re so cute, you know.”

“My head isn’t on straight right now,” Spencer sighs, shaking his head. “I just want– Like, it’s going to be good for me, obviously, because you’re so good at this. I don’t need to want anything. I just– Want this to be good for you too.”

“It’ll be good for me if you stop overthinking it, Spence.” You smile. “It’s chill. Also, when do I not enjoy sucking your cock?”

Spencer covers his face with his hand, but you see him smile, laughing to himself. “You’re so crude, y’know? But I suppose you do really enjoy sucking me off.”

“I know.” You chirp. “And I do."

Your hand is down Spencer’s pants before he can even tell you to go ahead, but he knows that you know he wants it. Spencer hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, taking them off. His cock jumps up and you watch, fascinated with the obscenity of it all. Spencer’s cock curves up towards his stomach, reddening at the tip already.

You wrap your hand around his hardening cock, as you start to jerk him off. He lets out a high-pitched whimper, like he can’t control himself, and he cups a hand over his mouth. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. You giggle, “It’s cute.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Spencer says, his face a little red already.

You pout. “Come on, Spence. It’s really hot.”

His hand falls from his face to his lap, coming up to cup your cheek gently. “You like it?”

“You’re so sexy.” You nod. “Of course I like it. Now, make those noises for me again, pretty boy.”

Spencer squeaks as you tighten your grip around his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke him. You work him up to full hardness – not that it takes very long for him to get there. You flick your thumb over the head of Spencer’s cock, tease into his slit where he’s steadily leaking already. His precome makes everything slick and sticky, easing the slide of your fist over his length.

Your eyes flit between Spencer’s face and his cock, marvelling at the growing mess in your hand and how his face is slowly but surely revealing his pleasure. He’s flushed, lower lip pulled in between his teeth, as you watch his chest rise and fall. His gaze pierces you, the intensity of how he looks sending shivers down your spine.

Knowing Spencer’s looking down at you, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, pressing it flat against the tip of his cock. Spencer lets out a strangled breath, eyes bugging out at the erotic sight of you between his legs. You wrap your lips around him, suckling gently on the head of his cock. You hope to make Spencer lose his mind like this. With the way he’s breathing heavily, lips parted as he takes in all of you, you think it’s working.

His whines are more frequent, accenting his hard breaths. You see how Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his hands, watch as he digs his nails into the flesh of his palms, and you instead hold him by his wrists to put his hands in your hair. The weight is comforting, and encourages you to sink down on his cock more. You take more than half of him into your mouth, but Spencer being… well-endowed meant that you often never were able to fit all of him in, unless you were in a particular mood.

The tip of Spencer’s cock hits the back of your throat, once it’s slid in. You gag at the intrusion, and Spencer lifts you off of him, slightly freaked out. “Are- Are you okay?”

“Baby, please,” you sigh, endeared but annoyed at the fact that he’s getting in the way of his own pleasure. “Trust me with this. Just focus on feeling good?”

Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, lips drawn into a little pout, but you nod to soothe his concerns. “Spencer, I want you to use me–” You stick your tongue out to lick at his length again, making him shudder. “–Just like this.”

“You want– You want me to…?” Spencer trails off, unsure if he’s picking up what you’re putting down.

“Fuck my face, Spencer,” you say bluntly, tired of flirting in circles. It’s fun flirting with Spencer, because it’s fun to fluster him when he isn’t expecting it, but right now, when he isn’t getting the hint, you need to lay it all out for him. “Use my mouth like a fleshlight. Whatever you want to do. Please.”

He inhales sharply, stunned at your explicitness. He pushes his hair back, out of his face, taking the time to process… everything. His gaze is tender, though, as he gently cups your cheek. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. But if you don’t want it anymore, you– You have to let me know, okay?”

You smile up at him, pleased that he’s finally letting some of his inhibitions go, even if he still seems hesitant. You pat the side of his thigh thrice. “I’ll do that if it’s too much.”

“I love you.” Spencer says softly.

“I love you too, Spence.” You hum. “Now hurry up and fuck my face.”

“Jesus, you’re so crude,” Spencer laughs. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling back, he guides his cock to your mouth, the head of his cock pressing against the plush of your lips. His mouth is open when he looks at you like this. He whispers, “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to take him in, like you were before, sinking down inch by inch, until he’s comfortably settled in the back of your throat. Spencer doesn’t move to fuck your face yet, so you make the first move. You bob your head up and down on his length, making sure your mouth is wet and slick as you suck him off. He lets out a moan, hand fisted in your hair.

And here’s where it starts: You slow on his cock, and Spencer, finally taking what he wants, pushes your head down onto his cock for more. You gag slightly. Spencer pulls your head back up, pushes you back down. While you appreciate how much he cares about you, him putting his pleasure first in using you like this makes your toes curl.

Spencer’s cock in the back of your throat is not uncomfortable, not yet, but Spencer steels himself to fuck your mouth and you find your veins thrumming with adrenaline. Spencer’s first thrust is exploratory, cautious. He’s nervous, or it at least feels like it when he fucks into your mouth. You would tell him off, but your mouth is kind of occupied right now. Instead, you glance up at him, and hope that your gaze tells him to just fuck me.

One arm against the backrest of the couch, Spencer thrusts into your mouth again. He gasps. Chasing his own pleasure, his eyes flutter shut as he fucks your mouth. His thrusts are shallow, desperate, hurried, but his mouth falls open in stuttered, eager moans. He’s so gorgeous.

You’ve never heard anything so perfect, the way Spencer moans, the way he cries out your name. You press your legs together to stave off the arousal building between them. You feel like a mess, Spencer’s hand making a mess of your hair, Spencer’s cock making a mess of your mouth. You think spit is probably all over your chin right now, but he’d probably think you still look great anyway.

Spencer gasps, out of breath as he whimpers, “I’m– I’m close, I can’t–”

He fucks into your mouth once, twice more, before slumping back down onto the couch. There’s a slick, wet ‘pop’ as you pull off of Spencer, pouting slightly. “You know I’m happy to swallow, Spence.”

Spencer laughs, tired, and explains, “I know you do, dear. I just don’t think I have it in me to come more than once. And I really want to come inside of you.”

His words make you blush. Spencer doesn’t get too explicit too often, so hearing him say dirty things always turns you on. You reach up to wipe yourself clean, but Spencer’s already ahead of you with a tissue pressed to your face, gentle as he wipes your mouth and chin.

After cleaning you up, he helps you up off your knees and onto the couch. You’re both still clothed, sure, but Spencer’s boxers and pants have been pushed down to reveal his cock; you must be even more of a mess, hair rustled and face messy, and the desperation that makes itself clear at the sight of the both of you makes you giggle.

Spencer smiles at you. “What are you laughing about?”

“We must look insane right now,” you laugh. “We’re not even naked yet and we’re like this.”

“Well, I think you look beautiful,” Spencer says earnestly in a quiet voice, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Spencer’s touch is gentle, it always is, and especially in stark contrast to the way he’d fucked your face, just like you told him to. “My lovely girl.”

“Spence,” you purr, nuzzling into his hand as he cradles your face. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer’s answer is immediate, certain, and it makes you acutely aware of how turned on you are.

“I love you so much, and I really need you to fuck me right now.” You look up at him, watch as his face warms from serious to amused. You shift away from him slightly on the couch, but use the extra space to spread your legs. “Use this pussy, baby.”

Now, he presses his finger to his temple, shaking his head playfully. “Your mouth is filthy. You’re filthy.”

You grin. “Aww, Spence, at least tell me you like it!”

He leans forward to kiss you, hard and eager and desperate. You moan into the kiss, as his hand is pressed into the small of your back. You run your hand through his hair, where it’s starting to curl past the nape of his neck. When he pulls away, he says, looking deep into your eyes: “I like you. And your filthy mouth. Now let me fuck you.”

You giggle, wildly turned on as his long, deft fingers push your shorts and panties off. He kisses along your neck as he does so, then lays you back on the couch, and his thumb rubs circles into your inner thigh softly as he regards you, admires you. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“You are too,” you say, awed, as Spencer takes off his nerdy little button-up. His body is perfect – not skin-and-bones skinny, but there’s a healthy litheness to him that you appreciate, especially when you’re grabbing at him while he fucks you. “Want you right now.”

“I know,” Spencer hums soothingly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Come on, love.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch, slack-jawed, as he wraps a hand around himself. His eyes flutter shut as he strokes himself, but he quickly snaps himself back to reality: guiding his cock in between your legs. He presses the tip to your clit, messy and glistening with your slick, and rubs against you in circles. You moan, feeling a little pathetic as you rut your hips forward to find any more pleasure like this.

Now, he presses the head of his cock to your hole, teasing, pushing it in slightly before it slips back out and spreads more of your slick across the rest of your cunt. You whine, pouting up at Spencer. He coos at you, “Okay, okay.”

Finally, he’s settled against your hole, the blunt head of his cock pressing into you excruciatingly slowly. It’s exhilarating, feeling him feed his cock into your hole, feeling him stretch you open, feeling like you were made for each other. He holds your leg up so he can press up closer to you, feeling so full as he puts his cock inside of you.

“Spencer,” you moan when he stops moving. “Fuck me. Just like earlier.”

”Okay, love.” Spencer nods, trails his hand down your waist and hips, down your thighs. “My gorgeous girl.”

Spencer thrusts into you, the first one sending electric pleasure through your body. He always loves to do it like this, make love to you slowly, intensely rocking into you until you feel all his love. You always do, but you don’t want that tonight. He knows that’s not what you want tonight.

When Spencer starts fucking you, his hips have gained a steady rhythm, your skin slapping together obscenely. It’s so wet between you two, where he’s pressed inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, eyebrows furrowed as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking cute, even while naked and trying his best to make you feel just as good as he does. He’s panting and groaning, your own moans mixing in with his. He knows you want him like this, hard and fast and messy.

You can’t form a coherent sentence, only able to babble and cry out for Spencer, for more, and you cling onto his arms as he pounds into you. You’ve never felt Spencer like this before. Sure, he’s always eager to please, doing whatever makes you feel good, but him going so hard, just like this, just the way you want makes you feel so needy, the both of you feeding off of each other’s desperation. All you can focus on is Spencer’s skin touching yours, the in-out slide of his cock, the slapping of skin on skin, the wet, slick noises of his cock fucking in and out of you.

“Cumming, Spence, I’m cumming,” You cry out needily, desperately, and you moan when he presses his thumb to your clit. He flicks at your clit in rough, hurried little circles. The pressure is cruel but just what you need for your release, and your whole body shakes as you orgasm. The high is so good, a different type of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You clench around Spencer, your cunt like a vice grip on him. Moaning loudly, his hips are stuttering as he comes inside of you too. He fucks out whatever momentum’s left in him, but pulls out quickly and gently, because he knows how fast you get overstimulated afterward.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, sweet, tame, unlike the depravity you were engaged in before, and the juxtaposition makes your head spin. Spencer, who is usually such a sweet, soft guy, being able to fuck you so hard and fast until the couch was creaking underneath you. You suppose that’s what he’s capable of when you ask. You like it. You wonder what else you can ask him to do. You think he’d do it in a heartbeat, knowing him.

“That was amazing,” you giggle breathlessly. “Spence, you’re a madman.”

”For you, my dear,” Spencer smiles. “Anything for you.”

You snuggle into his side, resting your head on his chest as you lay on the couch. You’re both sticky and gross, but you’re sure Spencer will be more than happy to clean up later. Right now, you’re just pleased to be cuddling your boyfriend.

”So, do you feel less stressed out about work now?” You ask, after a moment of comfortable silence.

”Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking about work,” Spencer laughs. “You know, some sociologists believe stress can be caused by positive events too? I think you cause me stress, but it’s good stress.”

”Watch your mouth, genius,” you snark playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute enough that I’d take being called a stressor a compliment.”

“I love you,” Spencer sing-songs.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the stupid grin that forms on your face. “Yeah, yeah.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencerreidenjoyer writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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sugoi-writes · 9 months ago

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Morning! I have a little silly idea for Alastor x Reader and wanted to share :D

Reader is stressed over some big event that is about to happen in the Hotel (like idk maybe they're throwing a ball or some gala to encourage more sinners to check in) and while she's giving a pep talk to everyone she absentmindedly starts fixing Alastors bowtie/coat/hair and everyone expects him to snap at you (you two were more of rivals than friends) but instead he smiles at you softly and fixes your necklace. You two only realize what you did when Angel "quietly" asks as a joke when did the two of you get married 😅

Sorry this took so long!!! I hope this is doing your prompt a little bit of justice! Please enjoy!!!

No warnings for this one, really! Just some good old fluff and pining (which I DESPERATELY need to work on, HAHA--)

♥️♥️♥️

Everything was hung in place, not a tassel or a drape awry. The decorations and accents, deep reds and lush golds, adorned every surface you could see. It was... gaudy. But it was perfect.

When all was said and done, you clasped your hands together, a triumphant smile on your face. Charlie, being the sweetheart she was, tasked you with orchestrating the grand-reopening ball. She had to admit, it was nice to throw the reigns to someone else for a while. She definitely got some MUCH needed time alone with Vaggie, who was also more than willing to take a backseat.

Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, silence behalfing the room with your address," Alright... guys, everything looks great. The place looks perfect. Everyone is looking--"

As your eyes flit about the hotel residents, you spy a freshly-apparated Alastor, who was... off. Physically, you mean. You squint for a moment, spying three things: Hair, Bowtie, Handkerchief.

"Sh-Sharp... everyone looks sharp."

Without thinking, you marched right up to the Radio Demon, collective gasps around the room as you touched him. Looks of bewilderment, horror, and amusement surrounded you both. You were preening him, adjusting him... unannounced? With no physical repercussions? How were you still alive?

Both hands shimmied the black bowtie into place," The music is covered, thank you for the recommendations, Alastor--"

"Anytime, dear," he quipped, not flinching in the slightest. His eyes were trained forward, avoiding eye contact as you pat his chest. Charlie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull as you pulled out the handkerchief, refolding and placing it back into Alastor's breast pocket. Another, resolute tap to his chest, and Angel's brain was short circuiting.

"Right-- like I was saying, everything is PERFECT. I need everyone on their BEST behavior when the doors open-- you especially, Angel. Everyone has their roles--"

Angel squinted, pouting as he shifted his weight... His head cocked to the side with a smirk, as if to say 'speak for yourself'! You strained onto your tiptoes, fluffing and adjusting Alastor's fringe, completely oblivious. There was a tinge of hair gel in Alastor's crimson, which surprised you. He had really gone the extra mile... albeit, still a little under perfect. Or maybe, you had just never noticed how much effort he put into his appearance?

"Niffty: keep an eye on the buffet and clean any and all messes. Angel, intel and vibe-checker. We have some big-wigs coming tonight, and I'm sure we could weasel our way into their good graces-- Make sure they're drinking, eating, dancing-- yknow!!! Having a good time!"

Alastor leans his head down for you, allowing easier access to his hair. You silently thank him, your tangent continuing," Charlie, Vaggie: you know the drill. Get them hooked on this place. Give them the razzle-dazzle to get them to stay. Lucifer, sir, you're in charge of the fireworks. I'm sure you have something ENTIRELY too bombastic for this, but-- just try not to scare anyone off tonight, sir???"

Lucifer, though still flabbergasted, gave you a pair of finger guns. This was his way of giving silent acknowledgement.

"Husk, of course: you're on drink detail. The more booze, the looser these guys get. The more likely they'll cave and stay the evening or become a patron--"

You blinked as warm hands were on your collarbone, adjusting your necklace. Though your face burned brightly, you didn't utter a word as Alastor finished his adjustments, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You looked up towards him, a friendly smile shot your way.

No words were exchanged, just smiles. You nod to Alastor, before turning to face the crowd. You weren't expecting to see looks of confusion and shock: everyone looked like deer in headlights. You sigh, chuckling a bit as you crossed your arms," C'mon guys, I know everyone is nervous about reopening to the public today, but we've got this!!! Seriously, everything is absolutely perfect now and--"

"If I can cut in real quick, toots-- are we plannin' a weddin'?" Angel retorts, fanning his hand back and forth between you and the Radio Demon.

"I mean-- not that I'm complainin', but y'gotta warn a guy first. I would've worn somethin' else for such a special day~"

You blink, utterly confused, before it finally clicked. You sputter dramatically, eyes wide and face heated from the implications," I don't-- I don't know what you mean, Angel--"

"Oh honey, we aren't BLIND. Admit it, you're mackin' with Tall, Dark, McNasty. And honestly, I get it. Chase your dreams or whateva. It's kinda cute~"

There were murmurs from the other crew, loosely agreeing to Angel's sentiments.You take a step forward to say something, before a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Your face only grew warmer as Alastor stepped in front of you. His pleasant smile strained, his annoyance further proven by his left, twitching eye.

"Now now, let's not lead the night with accusations and gossip-- though I'm usually a big fan myself~," Alastor mused, his grin widening.

" I'm afraid you all have the wrong idea-- I was just simply making sure everything was perfect. Just as our party host is." Alastor turns to you now, his smile softening," And that's exactly what tonight will be, with you at the helm: perfectly executed."

Angel snorts, leaning over towards Husk as he covers his mouth. A hushed whisper and an eyebrow wiggle are thrown his way," Oh, they're DEFINITELY fuckin'~"

You nearly shrieked as you cover your face with both hands, frustrated," Shut up, shut up, just-- UGH. L-Let's get to our battle stations, guys-- doors open in FIVE MINUTES," you bark. The nervous energy in the hall multiplies before dispersing, as everyone made themselves busy. It was very clear that everyone was trying to ignore the elephant in the room (and failing miserably). You do your best not to smudge your polished appearance as you turn on your heel, making your way towards the bar.

Immediately, you give it a knock, two fingers out. Husker nods, pouring you a double shot of your preferred poison. Swiftly swallowing the elixir of courage, you felt some of the embarrassment melt away. A familiar presence appears beside you, mimicking your knock and drink order. You sigh as Alastor's hand comes into your line of sight, eyes naturally following it as he swirled his drink, before downing it. You couldnt help but focus on the bob of his adam's apple, before you had the decency to look away. Alastor grinned down to you, tilting his head.

"Still troubled by their words, dear?"

You groan," D-Don't call me that, Alastor... Angel's going to feel like he's right," you reply, holding the bridge of your nose. Alastor laughs, leaning against the counter," Oh come now, I'm sure this whole mess will roll off your back by night's end~" Alastor teases, jazz hands accenting his playfuk tone. You groan again, frustrated," UGH, no, if HE'S distracted by that, EVERYONE here will be-- I just-- I don't wanna cause any unnecessary attention. 'For EITHER of us. You have your gambit for tonight, and I have mine... We need this to go WELL, not to be the talk of the town..."

Alastor leans against the counter, back pressing into it as he looks your way. Normally, he would continue to goad you into a precious, pathetic mess, but the look on your face felt too... troubled. You really were overthinking things, his eye catching the way you bit your lip.

The two shots he ingested already softened his edge, his head lolling to the other side," ...'a little advice, then?" You look over at Alastor, surprised by the change of subject.

"Sure. Might as well," you quip, resting your chin on your hand as Husk whisks away your empty glasses.

"If you walk around the room like your hair is on fire, the entire operation goes up in flames... This is commonly seen in management, but works just the same here," Alastor states, pretending to be fascinated with his talons.

"And truly, for tonight, you are the leader, the ringmaster of this event... the others will ask questions, and look to you for guidance. If you walk around like everything is going to fail, then it is destined to. So perk up!" Alastor's hand finds your chin, forcing you to look his way. Your breath catches for a moment, your eyes settling on his face. It was flushed, warm... and a hint of something you can't describe. He was being unreasonably chaste. Is this what Mimzy meant by "sweet as a kitten"?

"I think everything will go as it should, as long as you keep a cool head, dear. And if you can't, well...," Alastor grins as he knocks on the counter, each of you receiving another drink.

"--there's always liquid courage to settle the nerves."

You nod slowly, processing his words. Real, genuine advice... and, some sincerity sprinkled in? Were you really that drunk already??? Deftly, you picked up your glass, almost downing it before Alastor stops you.

" A toast, first."

Alastor grins as he picks up his own glass, clinking it against yours," To your success, my dear."

You move in autopilot as you clink back against his drink," Y-Yeah uhh... to the Hotel's future," you added, the two of swallowing your drinks hastily. Alastor straightens his posture, reaching over to squeeze your arm in reassurance. The radio in the room flicks to a new frequency, changing to a modern, catchy song that you recognized.

" Th-This is--"

"Your favorite, right?" Alastor finishes, his grin widening," Well dear, I am nothing if not accommodating. For tonight, let's have a little fun. Change things up." You nearly jump out of your skin as the front lobby doors begin to open, Alastor's eyes meeting yours.

"I expect to have your first dance. Meet me when you'd like to accept the offer."

And with that, Alastor leaves you, melding into his shadow form to flit to another spot in the room. You blink a few times, still reeling from the entire interaction. You hadn't told Alastor your favorite song. Not even once. And, you never dared to listen to it in front of him, fearing that he would disregard you or even chastise you for your taste.

You feel your heart swelling as you search for Alastor again, mouth falling open in silent protest. You wanted to pester him, ask him how he was able to know something so personal.... However, you are greeted by a sharply dressed demon, all too eager to make your acquaintance.

You allow your hand to be kissed, and pleasantries were exchanged. But ultimately... you felt your eyes constantly searching for Alastor. Maybe Angel was right, you thought... Maybe you did have something going on between the two of you. You felt a blossom that had remained so stubborn finally experience it's long-awaited bloom.

Maybe you did like Alastor. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you too... As the night grew longer, you realized that you just might be content with that.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor x oc #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel imagine #i tried keeping things pretty GN but hopefully this will suit your tastes!!!#thank you again for your request #im so sorry if this is shit #gdhdhshsjsjsjs

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xcherricutie · 10 months ago

Text

「 ✦ love doesn't die ✦ 」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[Yandere!Zombie!Silver the Hedgehog × Human!Reader]

[Word Count - 10k]

[Summary - You've been living in an abandoned city for years. You figured your luck had finally run out when an infected hedgehog finds you, but it seems like he's not entirely dead]

[Tags: Zombie AU, reader is a human because I don't like writing anthro readers I'm sorry, Silver is also a bit taller than his canon height because I mean, come on, blood and gore, some guy loses an arm, Silver isn't super yandere for most of it because I suck at writing]

[Notes: First time writing for Silver, don't expect a masterpiece. Also, the ending is kinda doodoo mainly just cause I wrote 8k of this in one day and just wanted to be done, I didn't feel like coming back to work on it haha. I got the inspo for this from another one shot that is WAY better, I was also rereading the zombot arc and needed to do this. NOT PROOFREAD]

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Dark thunder clouds rolled in, covering the overgrown city in a deep darkness. As the city grew darker, flashes of light beamed down the corpse of what used to be a lively city. Turning a corner, the light revealed yet another empty street, much to your relief. Despite having walked these streets every day for the last five years, you were still wary of any signs of life. After all, most life left were the undead, the immortal corpses of loved ones long gone. As far as you knew, you were the only person left alive. You considered yourself especially lucky, you had never even left your apartment building from before everything collapsed. You maintained your old life to the best of your abilities, just with more isolation, and no internet for entertainment.

You still recalled what life had been like before with vivid recollection. You remembered your old life back in high school, with all of your friends, human and mobian alike. You remembered the fairly frequent emergencies your world used to face, at the hands of a mad scientist. But that was a time gone by, a distant memory soon to fade from this world entirely. Assuming you were one of the only people left alive and sane, you were the sole carrier of those memories. It felt isolating, lonely, but you tried not to let it get to you. You didn’t want to live out your last days miserably.

Letting the light of your flashlight guide you back toward the safety of your home, you silently walked across the street, glancing around occasionally for any stray undead. You had discovered they tended to stick together, following sounds, likely blind. But the darkness almost heightened their senses, so you had quickly made your way back home upon noticing the signs of a storm. Unfortunately, you hadn’t beaten the dark clouds, and had been forced to use your flashlight. While you were certain most undead were blind, not all were, and that had you worried. Coming across a human undead wasn’t much to stress about either, they were weak, bones and flesh crumbling at the slightest touch. It was the mobians that had you worried. Most mobians had strength beyond the comprehension of humans in their life, and that had carried over into their undead. You had managed to avoid them for the last five years, but that didn’t mean you weren’t stressing over finally finding one every time you went out for supplies and food.

As the rundown, boarded up apartment building you called home came into view, you let out a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at your lips. Just as you took a step forward, you heard a soft tap behind you, sending a violent shudder up your spine as you whipped around, flinging your flashlight in the direction of whatever had caused the source. The sound of your heart thundering filled your ears as your gaze bounced around in a panic, trying to identify the source. As your eyes fell to the ground, you noticed a tiny, circular dark spot on the ground, a wet spot. Staring at it as your panicked mind tried to piece together what was happening, a swashing sound filled your ears, your body suddenly soaked as the sky poured rain. Finally realizing it was only rain, your shoulders relaxed as you scoffed with a smile, rolling your eyes at your own paranoia. Perhaps isolation had done more damage than you had initially realized.

Turning around, your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your blood freezing ice cold in your veins as your eyes met a pair of muted golden, bloodshot eyes. Tufts of messy white quills stood tall, nearly taller than you, stained a deep red shade. His maw was soaked in gore, the heavy stench of iron wafting from his being. He stared lifelessly into your eyes, almost as if looking straight through your head. Your mouth hung open, fear freezing your whole body as a silent scream began to build up within your throat. It seemed your luck finally caught up with you, as the especially tall mobian stood before you, his very presence setting your demise. There was absolutely nothing you could do to fend off the mobian, so as your instincts finally began to kick in, you chose the flight option of flight or fight.

Turning tail, you immediately bolted down the street. Biting your lip to swallow your terrified scream, you glanced back to see if he followed. Your eyes flew wide open as his eyes were directly in your face, his presence filling the air behind you. He was fast. The scream you had bit back finally freed itself as you whirled around, slamming your flashlight into the side of his skull. You had expected the sounds of squelching to fill the air, but you had been surprised by how intact his flesh still was. How great for you. He just so happened to be one of the especially strong mobians. You were thoroughly screwed.

His head whipped to the side as your flashlight smashed into his temple. The flashlight flew from your grip, momentarily distracting the undead hedgehog as the light whirled through the air. In that single moment of hesitation, you took the opportunity to run away, zigzagging through the dark. You hoped, prayed to anything that would listen that he happened to be at least slightly blind, but your luck had run bone dry as you heard the drum of footsteps just behind you.

You pushed yourself harder, running as fast as your legs would carry you. If you could just lose him, for just a second, you could wrap back around and run home. You knew the city like the back of your hand, but you couldn’t risk leading him directly to your safe place. No amount of boards and nails could hold something like him back.

Beginning to pant wildly, your lungs felt dry, suffocating you as you forced your legs to keep going. You couldn’t let yourself die like this, not after how long you had survived. Your eyes brimmed with tears as you swallowed, your mouth burning and dehydrated. But your ears were zeroed in entirely on the footsteps behind you, or rather, the fading sound of them. Pushing yourself onward, you immediately noticed the lack of footsteps behind you. Hope had instantly begun to overflow within you as you turned a sharp curve, circling back to your apartment building.

Rushing through the doors, you slammed them shut behind you, taking a shaky breath as you slid to the floor. You were fairly certain that whole escapade shaved off ten years of your life expectancy, but at the very least, you were still alive. You supposed somebody out there must’ve heard your prayers, you thought for sure that undead would never run out of stamina. He is undead after all.

Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you sucked in a deep breath, relaxing against the doors. Just as you thought to get up though, a loud thud rang through the room, vibrating against the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, eyes flying wide open as you forced your back firm against the door. You could nearly feel its presence just beyond the barrier of glass and boards, banging on the wood.

Sucking in a sharp but silent breath through your teeth, you slid the bag that hung over your shoulders off, freeing your shoulders of its weight. Grabbing one of the loose boards, you steeled your nerves for whatever came after your next move. You knew you didn’t stand a chance fighting him, so you had to find a way to hold him off while searching for an escape route.

With the remainders of your courage, you lifted yourself off the floor, back still firmly pressed against the door. The slamming grew more violent, almost as if it were getting impatient, the doors rattling as the boards weakened. You could hear the glass beneath the boards begin to crack, soon to give way. Taking a deep breath, you jumped away from the doors, the doors flinging wide open just as the pressure of your body gave way.

The hedgehog stood before you, his silhouette being illuminated by the strike of lightning in the far distance. His golden eyes, despite being muted by the lack of life, nearly glowed in the dark, highlighting the spatter of blood across his face.

You had expected him to immediately run for you, but he hadn’t budged from his spot, staring at you with an almost curious-like aura. You held the wooden board tightly in your grip, prepared to use it as a weapon, waiting for the lifeless body to make its move. Your body was nearly shaking now, the effects of your adrenaline beginning to wear off as your exhaustion caught up to you. You grit your teeth and bore through it, but the suspense had begun to take its toll as your body shook with fear.

Your gaze had shifted down to his feet as you noticed his leg twitch, foot sliding forward ever so slightly, as if trying to sneak up on you. Your eyes widened upon the realization, an audible gasp slipping from your lips as your mind began to panic. It was intelligent, enough to attempt to evade your alarm. Your whole body bristled as your grip on the board tightened, before the tension in your body suddenly snapped.

Letting out a scream of terror, you swung the board with all of your strength, the end hitting him square in the neck, knocking him to the ground. You lifted the board once more, slamming it on his head, before turning and taking off further into the building. You could hear it let out a frustrated growl, as if annoyed, his blood-soaked boots squeaking against the floor as he rose. But you didn’t dare look back as you ran towards the stairwell, flinging its metal door open and taking shelter inside.

As soon as the door slammed shut, clicking into place, you ran up the stairs, your mind panicking as you tried to come up with a way out of this. There was no way out of the building other than the entrance that you had come in through. All of the first-floor windows were heavily boarded up, and there was no exit within the basement. The only other way you could think of was the fire exit, which was in the lobby, where the hedgehog hunting you down was.

Through your jumbled thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed you had made it to the roof of the building until you pushed the door open, immediately being soaked by the onslaught of rain and wind. Thunder cracked in the sky, streaks of lightning flashing in the clouds. Your attention had momentarily been forced on the storm directly above you, before the sounds of footsteps echoing through the stairwell dragged you back into reality.

You shut the thick metal door behind you, walking toward the edge of the roof. The wind pushed back as you stepped forward, the slick ground making you stumble as you stood over the edge. The drop was far too long for you to make the jump and survive, which meant you were now trapped here, with a hedgehog that had been very persistent in getting to you. This was it. You had finally met your end, after all these years. But you wouldn’t let the undead corpse have its way, even if you had to take your fate into your own hands.

A loud thud pulled your attention back to the door, the sound repeating as visible indents had begun to form. You inched backwards, ever closer to the edge, until your heel was pressed into the edge, ready to slip with any slight movements.

And then, with one final violent slam, the door burst open, revealing the infected hedgehog. An almost animalistic look glinted in his eyes as lightning struck, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint aura surrounding him before disappearing in small flecks of glittering light.

Taking a step forward, the hedgehog was immediately soaked in the rain as he approached you. A sharp gasp pushed past your lips as your eyes snapped from the undead to the edge just behind you. Your foot slipped ever so slightly, a startled cry catching in your throat as your arms flailed, attempting to regain your balance.

Your heart leapt into your throat as your body tipped over the edge, your mind suddenly in a flurry as you realized this was your end. At the very least, you weren’t going to be eaten alive like you had feared. That was the only comfort you received as you fell over, your balance slipping as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet.

Eyes squeezed shut, you had expected to feel the wind rush past you, before meeting a swift end. Memories flashed through the darkness at a dizzying rate, your heart beating so fast you thought it’d explode before you hit the ground. You had expected everything around you to disappear, the chill of your soaked clothes fading into nothingness, or the feeling of your heart finally stilling. But the only new sensation that had hit you was the feeling of a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, yanking you upward.

You felt the air forced from your lungs as your body collided with something wet, freezing cold. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes opened, vision being filled with white despite the darkness. Your nose tingled as strands of fur tickled the tip, leaving behind a cold sensation as your senses were suddenly overwhelmed, overflowing. You were still alive. You had been pulled back up into safety. Or so it had seemed, but the false sense of safety suddenly washed away like the rain as you finally realized what had pulled you back up.

The hedgehog’s grip around your wrist remained, his other hand now holding your opposite wrist. You stood completely frozen, your mind trying to understand just exactly what had happened. Never, in the last five years of your isolation, living in a world with the undead, had you seen anything of the sort. Not only had every single thing that could walk wanted you dead, but none had the capacity or understanding to save you from death, not even for their own gain. Whatever this thing was, it certainly wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t entirely dead or alive.

You didn’t know what to do. Judging by the blood spatters dotting his body, the hedgehog was definitely infected. The blood couldn’t have been his own. Which meant that, regardless of his mental capacity, he was still fully willing to eat a living being. Your life was still in danger, even if he had pulled you into some twisted form of safety seconds ago. You were stuck in place, you couldn’t move. Who was to say he wouldn’t sink his teeth into your throat the second you moved even an inch? He certainly had the perfect view of your throat after all, his muzzle leaned against your shoulder.

After a long moment, one that had felt like years, you finally gave off a sign of life, your wrist twitching in his hold. When he made no efforts to bite into your neck, you gently pulled away just enough to look down at him, to at least try to gauge what was going on beneath the surface. But there was nothing in his eyes to suggest any thought process, no expression that told you he was in control. He simply stared up at you, his eyes shining with the occasional strike of lightning. Even without the sparkle of life, they still seemed bright, a remnant of what once was.

A particularly close flash of lightning caused you to jolt, eyes going wide. As your facial expression changed, so too did his, eyes going wide slightly, like a delayed reaction. Almost as if mimicking you. You sighed deeply, unsure of what to do. You certainly couldn’t shake the hedgehog, you were stuck with him, but you couldn’t just stand out here and wait for the lightning to finish the job. So, despite what your gut was warning you of, you gave the undead’s hand a slight tug.

“You, ah...” You paused, half wondering if he could even understand you. What were you even thinking, of course not, but that didn’t stop you from at least trying. “You seem smart. Do you understand me?”

No reaction. Not even a blink of the eye. You didn’t know what you were expecting, a twitch in his facial muscles or a fully constructed sentence. Regardless, you continued, with the hope that maybe some nerves in his brain were still alive and kicking. He did save you, after all. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.”

Still unreactive, you decided to just hope your words got through to him, and gave his hand a stronger tug. You pulled the hedgehog slightly, waiting with bated breath for a violent reaction. But he simply let you tug and pull, dragging him back inside, back into the safety of the building. And yet, it had lost its sense of safety as you pulled the undead hedgehog behind you, straight to your safe space, your own room.

Pushing the door open, a sense of security washed over you, happy to at least be home once again. Even if the hedgehog killed you here, at least it’d be in your home. You had to look on the positive side of having an undead follower for now.

“This is my home,” You spoke, despite knowing your words would never reach him. You had even shot him a nervous smile, trying to be friendly. It was the least you could do to calm yourself and hopefully the hedgehog as well. Your mind was in shambles.

“We’ll be safe here. I’ve been here for years.” You said, leading the hedgehog further into your home, telling yourself over and over in your mind to just pretend he was alive. Pretend he wasn’t a threat.

As you continued to speak, walking around with the infected in tow, you attempted to pull your wrist from his grip, the same wrist he had grabbed to save you. The wrist that he hadn’t released the entire time since pulling you back from that edge. You pulled your wrist away, without even thinking as you spoke all about your time surviving the last few years. It had been your first time talking in years, and had gotten carried away, forgetting that you were still in the midst of danger. You had been forced back to reality as he gripped your wrist nearly painfully tight, pulling you back to his side with force. You looked down at him with wide eyes, your heart rate quickly picking back up as you looked down at him.

Still showing no signs of life. You didn’t understand what was happening, what was going through that head of his. Some thought must have been present, he had the ability to understand your life had been in danger, he understood to follow when you pulled. He had the ability to resist killing you. So why? Why did he seem so dead, when there was obviously still some amount of life hidden just beneath the blood coated surface?

“Um... You can let go now,” You tried to calmly say. Instead of seemingly not understanding though, now your words seemed to annoy him, as his empty stare turned into a frustrated look. You felt his fingers tighten around your wrist, his grip quickly growing painful. “I-It’s okay, really. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right here.”

You hoped that was what he wanted to hear. It was the only thing you could think of that made sense. He didn’t want you to leave his side, but why? Was he saving you for later? Did he still fully intend on taking your life? Why wait? You tried to wrap your mind around the situation, despite knowing there likely was no explanation. At least not one you could get to on your own. Likely, the hedgehog himself was the only thing that knew what was going on. He definitely had some train of thought, you were certain of it now, especially since he confirmed being able to understand you, to some degree.

“Uh...” Mind scrambling for anything that could help you, you looked around your small apartment, trying to find something to get you out of this situation. “Wh-Why don’t you sit down? Come on.”

You gave a light tug, trying to direct him to the slightly tattered sofa in the room. He didn’t budge for a moment, staring at you, as if he were eyeing you. But after a second’s passing, he let you pull him toward the sofa, sitting him down. He sat down with no direction at all, which had surprised you, as you didn’t think you’d ever actually seen an infected sitting down.

You sat down next to him, being sure to put a few inches between you and him. He stared at you once again, putting an unsettling feeling within your being. But just as that feeling began to form, you felt his fingers loosen around your wrist, surprising you. His eyes remained trained completely on you, but at the very least, he seemed calmer.

As your eyes met his, your brows furrowed as you thought. You had never even thought you’d be in a situation like this. You wondered if you could even take this to your advantage. He didn’t seem to be after your life anyway.

“You can understand me, can’t you?” You asked. When you received no indication that your words got through, you began to think. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely capable of showing that he understood? He could show facial expressions, but so far you had only seen expressions of annoyance or frustration. Maybe he couldn’t show signs of other emotions. You hummed, finger tapping your chin as you tried to think of something to help you get through to him, or at least form some type of communication. A thought crossed your mind, making you perk up as you jumped to your feet. Your sudden movement clearly startled the hedgehog, but you failed to notice as you rushed past him with a burst of excitement.

Practically shoveling through a closet of your old belongings and things that just had no use nowadays, you finally found what you had been looking for. You slammed down a pencil and paper on the coffee table before the hedgehog, missing the sudden jerk of his body as you surprised him. You looked up to him with a bright grin, unable to contain your excitement at the idea of getting to study the infected, getting to know him and have a look into his mind, without your life being in danger.

“Okay, so you obviously have some capacity for thought,” You began, reaching out for his hand. He didn’t resist when you grabbed ahold, placing the pencil in his hand. “Try writing something, anything. A word, a number, your name, whatever you want.”

The hedgehog just stared at you, unmoving. As seconds began to turn into minutes, you wondered if you got too excited. It did seem silly, now that you thought about it. You had assumed that since he managed to express some emotions, especially to your words, that he had some understanding of language. And he had shown himself to possess some motor skills, so why not writing? At the very least, he could do a little scribbled drawing. But it was pretty farfetched to think that something like him, something lacking thought and morals, could communicate.

But your thoughts were cut off as you heard the scratching of lead against paper. With much applied force, the hedgehog began to slowly but surely make out letters, and soon, a very poorly written word had been forcefully drawn on the paper. The paper had ripped in some places, and the pencil had broken, making the lead appear rubbed. But despite that, there was still very plainly a word written in large across the paper. “Silver”.

“Silver...” You squinted your eyes at the paper, before they widened as you made the connection. “Is that your name? Silver?”

The lack of reaction this time finally confirmed your thoughts. If you had been wrong, he would’ve shown signs of frustration, but there was nothing. This was your sign. You had been right. He just lacked the ability to show other expressions, but still had the ability to think. There were still signs of life inside him after all.

“Oh wow, this is...” You fell to your knees in front of the table, sitting across from him. You stared into his eyes, momentarily awe-struck. You had found somebody; somebody you could actually communicate with. “I can’t believe it. You can actually talk. I-I haven’t spoken with anyone in years. Wait, can the others talk too?”

Silver’s brows furrowed slightly, your sign of communication, his version of “no”. You visibly pouted, disappointed by the answer, but you couldn’t be surprised. Silver was the only one who could even think, let alone show emotions.

You wanted to ask him more. You wanted to get to know him. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, trying to figure out more ways to talk with him. You had come up with the idea of asking him yes and no questions and having him write down the answers on the paper. He had been bad about writing too big to fit multiple words on the paper, which had resulted in you running out of paper and ending up just writing on the wooden table. But you didn’t care at this point, too interested in finding out everything you could about Silver, which ended up being quite a lot.

You had discovered that Silver was once one of the heroes who used to defend the world from the mad scientist who often put it in danger. You had also found out that he was the very last hero to live in the end, every one of his friends dying off one by one to the virus. Thanks to his psychokinesis, he had survived for years, only recently finally losing the fight. Apparently, he had been searching for the cure all this time, a person with special immunity to the virus. In the end, his efforts had gone to waste though, and he had died. You didn’t even know how to begin to process any of that, and by the time you had found out everything, it was late into the night hours. You were running on fumes, eyes struggling to stay open as you thought of another question to ask Silver.

Your eyes widened slightly as Silver set the pencil down, leaning back onto the sofa. You couldn’t get past the jarring, dead and empty look in his eyes, which never even blinked. It felt odd seeing him move around, seeing him interact with his surroundings, with you, despite the obvious lack of life. For the most part anyway.

Silver’s hand caught your eye as it softly pat the sofa next to him. You tilted your head in confusion, before realizing what he meant, surprising you. You didn’t think he was capable of that level of awareness, noticing your own emotions. You let out a soft chuckle as you stood, stretching out with a yawn.

“I’m still shocked that somebody like you even exists,” You said, giving Silver a smile. You failed to notice the slight twitch of his eyes; the flicker of some emotion hidden deep within him. “I guess all those years of perseverance keeps you going. I bet you could cure yourself if you tried hard enough.”

You joked, but it also made some amount of sense. He was a super powered hedgehog, far beyond anything like you’d ever seen. If anyone could overcome the virus, it would likely be him. You had assumed at this point that his interest in you was because he’d finally found someone alive, someone who wasn’t braindead. You would quickly find though, that wasn’t the only reason for his interest.

You had decided against Silver’s offer, telling him you were going to sleep in your own room. He had expressed slight annoyance at this, but calmed down after you told him he could sit and watch for danger in the living room. And while it felt nice to know there was somebody who wanted to protect you now, you also didn’t trust that Silver could control his hunger. So just in case, you had locked your bedroom door. You knew it’d do little to stop him, should he really want to get in, but it gave you some comfort.

Despite your initial excitement, you couldn’t help the fear that Silver was still a danger to you. He could think and communicate, sure, but did that stop him from eating people? Had he actually eaten anyone before? You didn’t dare ask him, scared it was a touchy subject. He had emotions, so it was obvious he must’ve felt something toward his sickness, his “condition”. He was dead, of course it was a touchy subject. So, you lived in uncertainty now, fearing the day Silver lost control.

But you’d find out his hunger wasn’t what you had to worry about. You found that out almost immediately the next day, explaining to Silver that you had to go out again and search for food. To put it simply, he was not happy.

“Silver, I have to go out! I will literally die without food!” You argued, pulling on your wrist as Silver held you tightly. He didn’t move or even budge a single muscle, your efforts doing little to escape his hold. You grumbled in annoyance, glaring down at him. “Would you rather me die? I don’t think I’ll be as lively as you when I’m dead.”

Your words seemed to cut through whatever stubbornness he had been feeling as he returned the glare tenfold but released you. You huffed, rubbing your pained wrist, turning away from him. You grabbed your bag that you had retrieved from the lobby (without Silver, of course), stuffing inside anything you may need on your trip out. You had to leave space for food though, which meant you couldn’t bring very much with you, aside from a flashlight and a knife.

“I’ll be fine, Silver, promise. I’ve been doing this longer than you, after all,” You teased, though you’re unsure he found it very humorous. But you didn’t linger on it, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “You could even come with me and help. It’d be nice to have some help for once.”

This seemed to perk Silver up, as his glare relaxed into that empty look you were coming to know. You smiled, a small chuckle escaping your lips. Perhaps he still retained that heroic personality he had in life, trying to protect you from any and all harm.

With that settled, you and Silver headed out. Silver took the lead right away, keeping a lookout for any infected. The city was empty and silent, most undead out in the woods, looking for wild animals for sustenance. The eerie silence was still jarring to you, even after all these years. Even with all of the plant life overrunning the city, there was a lack of wildlife. No birds chirping, or squirrels running about. As far as you could tell, Silver and you were the only life for miles. Or so you had assumed.

A splash of water broke through the silence, drawing your attention as you looked down into the murky puddle your boot had stepped in. Your reflection rippled through its surface before disappearing as you lifted your boot, unsettling the mud. You let out a soft hum, eyes glancing around your surroundings. All was quiet, even with Silver at your side now. You found his silence gave you almost a sense of foreboding. Were the infected all this quiet?

Your attention focused on Silver; you didn’t even register the sound of water splashing just behind you. You barely had time to process the hand that reached out from behind, a shiver running down your spine as your mind lagged behind, realizing just seconds too late what was happening.

Silver’s feet dragged as he trudged forward, bleary eyes shifting back and forth as he looked around. All was quiet, and his sharp sense of hearing didn’t pick up anything other than the thuds of your footsteps just behind him. Hearing a splash of water, Silver’s ear twitched slightly, but shrugged it off as your presence. It was strangely quiet, even for him.

A sharp, shrill scream pierced that silence, startling Silver as he whipped around, trying to focus his eyes, trying to find you. His eyes landed on your form, legs kicking as you tried to fight off the infected that had snuck up on you. Its hand wrapped around your face, other hand holding your shoulder as it leaned in close to your neck.

Swinging your body back and forth, you tried to shove it off, letting out a startled cry as you felt its hot breath down your neck. Tears brimming in your eyes, you grabbed it by the arm, using all of your strength to fling it over your shoulder. Its body slammed against the ground, the rotten flesh of its arm tearing clean off.

A shudder ran down your back as you dropped the dead flesh, your blurry eyes landing on Silver as he rushed to your side. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as your peripheral vision caught sight of movement, whipping to face whatever was approaching next. Your eyes widened to see not just a few stray infected, but an entire horde. The streets were filled with undead, the putrid scent of death hitting your nose.

“Th-They’re everywhere,” You muttered, turning to look at Silver. If an infected could look panicked, Silver surely did right now. His eyes were wide, shoulders stiff as he leaned closer to you, as if to try and protect you. But even Silver couldn’t fight off an entire horde, he had found that out in his final moments of life.

The storm had to have led them in, you assumed. They relied on their sense of sound and must’ve lingered even after the storm passed. They had you and Silver completely surrounded, and there was nothing you could do to get through. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing growing erratic as your eyes darted around for any kind of escape.

Body trembling, you felt your knees grow weak with fear as you realized, this was likely your end. It had been just your luck to finally find someone who could change your life, only to have it all ripped away from you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you noticed the infected beginning to approach, your tears streaming down your face as you tried to shut the world out.

Just as you closed everything out though, you felt a cold hand wrap around your own, fingers squeezing gently. You peeked your eyes open, meeting the pair of golden eyes you thought you’d never get the chance to see again. But something was different, there was a whole new layer of color to them, a turquoise aura surrounding both you and him. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. It was the smallest upturn of his lips, crinkling his muzzle ever so slightly. You hadn’t even thought it possible for him to make any expressions other than aggravation, but in your final moments, he had given you the comfort you didn’t even realize you desired for all these years.

Your mind had been distracted from what you had assumed would be your final few seconds in life, your eyes entirely on Silver. Something about your gaze, the way your eyes lit up upon seeing his smile, it made something deep within Silver flutter to life. Something he had rarely ever felt, even in his days alive. It gave him the strength to use up what little power he had access to in his rotten body, lifting his body from the ground. You hadn’t even realized what was going on, having closed off the world as your mind focused entirely on Silver’s face, on his smile, his soft and kind eyes. It wasn’t until your feet had left the ground, did you finally come back down to Earth.

Your eyes widened as you looked down, the ground getting further and further away as Silver lifted you just above the infecteds’ reach. Your eyes practically lit up with exuberance, nearly welling with more tears as you realized Silver had once again saved your life. But that excitement quickly dissipated as your eyes met his, noticing the strained look written across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a soft groan as the aura surrounding you had begun to flicker and disappear. He had just barely managed to land on the roof of a tall building, thankfully with no entry to the roof. They were safe, for the time being.

“Silver, that was amazing!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him without even thinking. Silver’s eyes widened as he felt you squeeze him close, muttering words of thanks over and over as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

A sharp jolt burst through Silver’s body, causing him to twitch slightly in your hold. It felt electrifying, like something within him had been shocked to life. It almost felt as though his heart had been jumpstarted, his cold, dead body, blood that had long since stagnated beginning to heat up his body. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that your touch had brought his body back to life, more so that it had given life to a brand-new feeling, an indescribable feeling that Silver immediately knew he had to protect at all costs.

“Oh, but...” You pulled away slightly, much to Silver’s dismay, as you cast your gaze over the edge of the building. The sky was still cloudy, blotting out the sunlight, the wind sending a chill down your spine. “We’re stuck up here now. Do you think you could fly the rest of the way home?”

Silver frowned deeply, giving you your answer. You sighed, shoulders drooping in disappointment. That meant, that until the horde either dispersed, or Silver gained enough energy to fly once again, you were stuck up here. And the fact that you had yet to eat anything today was finally starting to catch up with you, your body feeling tired and weak.

Your gaze lifted back up to Silver’s, finally realizing your arms were still wrapped around him. You could barely even recall the fact that he was dead anymore, the only reminders being the sickly sweet smell coming from him, and the droopiness of his eyes. But the way he held you softly in his arms, the smile he had given you to comfort you in what could’ve been your final moments, it felt so much like a real person. Like there was still somebody in there. Somebody who cared for you.

“Can you smile again?” You asked, both genuinely curious, and missing the presence of his smile. Silver seemed a bit caught off guard, his body tensing slightly. His hands pulled away from you, leaving a cold, empty feeling where they had been, which you ignored. It had been far too long since you felt physical contact with another being.

Silver’s cheeks twitched slightly as he struggled to curl his lips upwards. He had even squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull his lips upward, but they simply wouldn’t budge. You frowned slightly, wondering if doing even the simplest things overexerted his muscles. They were pretty much dead, after all. It was shocking he could even do it before.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Silver lifted his fingers to his cheeks, pushing the corners of his lips upward. Your eyes widened at the annoyed hedgehog who forcefully turned his lips upward, giving him a very strange and almost scary appearance, had you not known what was going on. For a moment, you could only stare in pure surprise, before a sputter of laughter escaped your lips. Covering your mouth, you tried to hide the laughter that bubbled up within you, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped. Soon enough, your hidden giggles turned into uproarious cackling, sides nearly splitting as you doubled over.

Like an infection, your euphoria spread to Silver, nearly having to do a double take as you caught sight of his face. His lips had been pulled into a tight smile, mimicking your own. His sharp canines stood out, stained slightly red, his gums showing from how hard he was pulling. But despite that, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling within you at the sight, chuckling.

“You have a lovely smile, Silver,” You said, your words causing Silver to falter, his lips trembling. It felt like his heart was trying to stutter back into life, almost painfully so. He didn’t think he’d ever felt an emotion as strong as what was going through him now. And your words only made it worse as you continued. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Silver knew from that moment that he needed to keep you, he wanted you at his side, forever.

It had taken a few hours, but the horde of the undead had finally begun to disperse, following sounds in the woods, looking for their next meal. Silver had also gathered just enough energy to fly back home, holding you tightly, taking every chance he could to squeeze you against his own body. You were so warm against him; it was becoming addicting.

Before finding you, Silver had assumed there was no life left aside from the occasional wild animal. But even those were becoming rare. He thought it a curse that he could see the world around him, that he still had some thought and comprehension, but that he lacked control of his own body. It wasn’t until he saw you for the first time, roaming the dark streets, did he finally feel like himself. He needed to see you, to see an actual living being. He had died all alone and thought the rest of his undead life would be the same, and you changed that. You were like his lifeline, keeping him connected with his humanity. He needed you.

Once you had made it back home, you made sure to lock the front door, pushing a shelf in front of it with Silver’s help. It wouldn’t stop a group of infected, but it might stop one or two. Maybe. Silver didn’t make it seem like a silly idea, so you found comfort in that.

As the hours grew late, putting a close to your second day since finding Silver, you found yourself practically attached at the hip to Silver, the same going for him. Asking him more questions about himself and his life, you were enthralled by him. It had been many years since you got to bond with anyone, it felt like you couldn’t detach yourself from him if you tried.

Letting out a yawn, you leaned back onto the sofa, having run out of ideas to ask him. Communicating with someone via yes or no questions could only get you so far, and you felt like you had hit that limit. There wasn’t much left to ask him, now the information you sought could only be given by him, and that obviously wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it, Silver still lacked the ability to actually speak, and likely would forever.

“I guess that’s it for today. It’s too bad we couldn’t find anything, I’m starving,” You mumbled, your stomach growling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone a day without food before, but it was still slightly painful. You sighed, standing up as you smiled at Silver. “I guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have cleared out by then.”

As you turned away, going to prepare for bed, you failed to notice the look of disapproval on Silver’s face. He watched you walk away, a slight scowl on his face.

Walking into your bedroom, you stretched out your arm, though came to a screeching halt as an intensely sharp pain stabbed through your shoulder, nearly drawing a cry of pain out of you. You hissed, letting your arm go slack as you rushed into your bathroom. The dim moonlight bathed the room in an almost blueish light, highlighting the red gash that had been scratched across your neck and shoulder. You could only stare with wide eyes, your mind unable to process the sight before you, breath caught in your throat. How had you failed to notice that? When did it happen?

As the memory of the infected that had snuck up on you passed through your mind, you faintly recalled feeling an uncomfortable scratch across your collarbone that you hadn’t given much thought to at the time. Your life was in danger, you were focused entirely on escaping the situation. But now that you were home, and hours had gone by, the blood had dried, and the wound had begun to heal. It wasn’t a deep scratch. Just enough to break the skin. But was that all it took to turn? To become infected?

It had been hours, you reminded yourself. Turning was usually immediately. But you also knew there were rare cases where it could happen over a course of time, slowly killing the host. You had been infected. There was no doubt about it.

Stumbling back into your bedroom, you collapsed against the old, beaten mattress. There was nothing you could do except hope that you woke up tomorrow morning. You couldn’t tell Silver. He had finally found someone he could talk to. Someone he could bond with. You didn’t want to crush that so soon.

Closing your eyes, you ignored the pain in your shoulder, letting slumber take you. You had been fully prepared to just never wake up again, at least not fully. But much to your surprise, you woke up the next day, sunshine pouring into your room through an unboarded window. You blinked away your sleepiness, slightly confused as to why you were still you, before jumping out of bed.

Rushing to your bathroom, you checked your collarbone once again. The scratch remained, still healing. You had honestly thought it to be a dream when you woke up, but seeing it there, feeling the remaining pain as you moved your shoulder, you knew it was real.

You didn’t know what to do. Your mind was rushing for a solution, or at least a way to keep this from Silver. You didn’t want him to see you change. You had to come up with some sort of plan to get away from him before changing, and today was the perfect opportunity.

That was what you had thought, until Silver had decided not to let you out at all today. Just like yesterday, he held you by your wrist tightly, refusing to let you walk through your door. You had even tried the same reasoning as yesterday, saying that he could come with, but he still wouldn’t let you go. You had thought it was because he hadn’t been there to keep you safe from being grabbed, but you were fine as far as he was aware. There was no reason for him to feel bad.

“I have to go out, I need food, I’m hungry! Just let me go!” You huffed in frustration, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you tried to tug your arm free. Silver simply glared up at you, visibly growing more frustrated the longer you fought him. He didn’t understand why you thought it was okay to go out again, not after yesterday. Not after he nearly lost you.

“Let me go!” You raised your voice, trying to urge him to free you. It seemed your tone only made him mad, as he roughly yanked your arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder. You cried out in alarm, holding your shoulder as you hissed. “You’re hurting me, Silver!”

Your cries of pain seemed to startle him as his grip loosened significantly, almost enough for you to pull your arm free, but his grip returned just as you tried to pull. As your eyes met his, you could see a look of not just frustration in his eyes, but confusion. Guilt suddenly squeezed at your heart, making you sigh as your shoulders fell.

“Okay, if you don’t want me to go, then why don’t you? You’re one of them after all,” You said, giving him a small, comforting smile. “That way, I can stay safe at home, and you can bring me food.”

Silver let you go at that, agreeing immediately. He walked past you, shoving the shelf blocking the door aside with ease. As he looked back, your eyes widened as he gave you the tiniest of smiles. The sight made your heart flutter, but at the same time sink, knowing it would be your last time getting to see such a smile. The smile of someone with perseverance great enough to live beyond death.

You gave Silver a bright grin in return, your smile remaining until the door had closed behind him, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was just like before now, when you were all alone. Silver was gone. And it had left a bigger hole in your heart than you thought it would.

But you had no time to waste. You didn’t know when it would happen. You had to disappear before Silver could return, without being noticed. You waited until you were certain Silver was gone before preparing.

The table was covered in Silver’s scribbles now, with little room left. Taking a marker, you wrote over Silver’s handwriting, writing a small apology, that you didn’t want him to see you turn. With your final words written, you took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your old apartment one last time. Since showing up, Silver had left that sickeningly sweet smell everywhere he went. A smell that once made you sick and terrified, you found some sense of comfort in, knowing it was from him.

You wished you could’ve had more time with him. You wished you could’ve met Silver before everything, before he and everyone around him died. You imagined you would’ve been great friends. But you couldn’t linger on that, not anymore.

Slipping out of your apartment, you made certain that you were completely alone before exiting the building. The streets were silent once again, but this time, you knew nothing was around. Not even Silver. You were alone.

Making your way into the woods that had begun to creep up on the old city, you were surrounded by the darkness the trees provided, hiding you from the light. Even in the woods, it was dead silent aside from the wind rustling the leaves and branches. It was a lonely final resting place, but you preferred that over putting Silver in even more pain.

With one final glance back, you could see your memories flashing through your eyes just like before, but at a slower pace now, reminding you of everything you’d lost, and the friend you were going to lose now. You were simply thankful you got the chance to meet Silver. For a mere second, you thought it might’ve been possible he himself was the cure he had been searching so long for. After all, he was still alive, even though his body technically wasn’t. The thought made you smile, comforting you as you disappeared into the darkness.

The sun had begun to drift lower and lower into the sky. Silver stared up at the sky as it turned from a bright blue into a brilliant orange. Despite the beautiful view, Silver only wished you could’ve been with him to witness it. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving you home, especially since he had seen a few infected during his search. But he still couldn’t help but miss you, wanting to be always at your side.

Making his way back home, Silver pushed the door open, mustering up his best smile as he held his arms out, showing off the food he had found in his search. But upon seeing the empty room, Silver dropped the food without a thought as he looked around. Where were you? Why were you not here waiting for him?

Red ink scrawled across the table caught his attention, golden eyes landing on the message. Taking in its words, Silver didn’t even think it possible to feel his blood pressure skyrocket, and yet the feeling that overcame him in those two seconds rivaled the feeling.

Silver didn’t think he’d ran that fast since he was alive. He didn’t even know he could run as fast as he was, nor did he think he had the same heightened sense of smell as the other infected until he was completely zeroed in on your scent, on the blood in your scent. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not after he’d finally found someone to be with. Someone who was alive and made him feel alive. He had to have you, no matter what. Even if you were infected, he’d find a way to help you. You could be just like him; he would make you be just like him. Even if he had to infect you himself.

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the woods grew darker with each second. You shivered as the wind blew a chill down your spine, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Despite the pain in your shoulder, you couldn’t feel any effects of the virus. Perhaps you were one of the rare cases that had to suffer longer? It certainly lined up with the luck you had.

The leaves crunched softly underneath your boots as you walked, your mind drifting as time slowed to a crawl. You were just ready for it to be over. Silver was probably already home, though you couldn’t even begin to guess what his reaction would be. You guessed he might try to look for you, but you’d already be turned and long gone before he could find you. You felt guilty, but it wasn’t like letting Silver watch you turn was any better.

Your mind was brought back to reality as you heard a particularly loud gust of wind. Looking around, you felt your fear begin to crawl from the pits of your stomach, and up your spine. Squeezing yourself tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, before continuing on.

Before you could take even a single step forward though, you were suddenly and violently tackled to the ground. You let out a startled cry, your shoulder slamming against the ground, forcing a scream from your lungs. You felt a hand grab your injured shoulder, flipping you over with great force, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

Your eyes met a pair of wildly glowing golden eyes, a sneer pulling at his lips, revealing his canines. You cried out in alarm, trying to crawl away, Silver’s tight grip holding you in place underneath him. You had no time to react, no time to stop him as he bent down, immediately sinking his teeth into your collarbone. You let out a shrill scream, feeling your own blood soak your clothes and skin, staining Silver’s muzzle. You fought and shoved against him, feeling the cool air hit your skin as he pulled away, revealing his dripping maw, blood trickling down his canines.

“Mine,” A strained, raspy voice spoke, startling you. He repeated the word over and over, rubbing his nose against your neck. He switched to the other side, making you panic as you felt his sharp teeth brush over your skin. He sunk his teeth into your flesh, taking in your scent, practically burning it into his brain. He was never letting you out of his sight again. You were his, he needed you, you were all he had left in this world.

Pulling away, Silver stared at the sight of you below him. Your neck was littered with bites, and after the third bite, you had lost the strength to fight him, just waiting to succumb to your death. Your eyes drooped, a sleepiness unlike anything you’d ever felt washing over you, granting you relief.

As your eyes fell shut, you could feel Silver lift you, holding you against his fluffy chest. You leaned into his surprisingly warm hold, deciding to just go with it. You were dead anyway, so you might as well soak it in. Despite everything, you were still glad to have met Silver.

It felt like time had slowed to a near stop, and you couldn’t differentiate minutes between hours, and days between years. It felt like you had been forced to wake though after a long time, sunlight pouring over you, bathing you in its warmth. It was strangely warm. You had expected everything to be cold, dead.

Eyes slowly peeking open, they blurred in the light, making you groan. Just as you began to stir, you heard a gasp, startling you fully awake, eyes clearing up immediately as you sat up. Just before you stood Silver, or what you had assumed was Silver. He was strangely... lively. Almost like he was alive.

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, his crystal-clear voice startling you to your core. It wasn’t like he was almost alive; he was alive. His golden eyes held that flicker of life that was once missing, his lips curled into the biggest smile you had ever seen.

As if able to tell you were both shocked and confused, Silver chuckled, sitting down next to you on the bed. “A little while after I bit you, I got better. It surprised me too, believe me. I guess it turns out you were the immune person I’ve been looking for all this time!”

Your brain didn’t process a single word he said. You were shocked you were even still alive, especially after how Silver had bitten you, and many times at that. The memory of Silver biting you over and over suddenly filled your head, the pain still ever present in your neck. You ran your hand over your neck, feeling the deep teeth marks scattered across your skin. Silver’s eyes fell to your hand, his smile remaining, but the glimmer of innocent cheerfulness fading from his eyes.

“I wanted to be the one to turn you,” Silver said, his voice forcing your attention back on him, looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled at you, the corners of his lips reaching his eyes and forcing them to crinkle. “I was going to make you like me. But this is better! This means that you can’t turn, and even if I do, I can just bite you and cure myself!”

Something about Silver’s words, or the way he smiled, put an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Something about this didn’t sit right with you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it kind that he wanted to turn you himself? You couldn’t tell.

“What does this mean? A-Am I going to have to cure everyone else?” You asked, confused. You didn’t think you could handle getting bitten that much. You didn’t even have enough blood to spare a few hundred people. And wouldn’t that, you know, kill you?

“Oh, no!” Silver chuckled, shaking his head. He took your hand into his own, squeezing it much more gently than he had when he was infected. “I can’t let you be getting hurt. It’s just you and me against the world.”

Silver gave you a big smile, his eyes filled with love, and yet, you knew, there was no real love to be found. His love had died with him when he died so long ago.

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#sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #silver x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #yandere silver the hedgehog #yandere silver the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic #zombie au but I'm bad at writing #yandere #yandere sonic the hedgehog

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