#phantom of mint eye

[junislqve]

ᯓ seasons — ot7

syn i used to hate it, until i found out it was your favorite thing. (1504 words)

pairs ot7 + reader | cw petnames — mlist navi

note synopsis was actually more of a prompt but err i hope you guys enjoy anyway >< also im writing this half asleep so im sorry if there are any mistakes !! everybody thank peng cause without her this wouldn’t even be here rn

LEE HEESEUNG

“why don’t you warm me up?”

heeseung never liked winter. he hated the coldness and the gloom that came with it. ever since he was young, he’d stay cooped up in his room refusing to go out and play with the snow.

even as an adult, heeseung would be more silent during the season, chattering his teeth even though he wore about a dozen coats.

well that was until he knew you. you were the complete opposite. you loved the coldness and the festive feeling of winter. finding the beauty in the falling snowflakes.

ever since heeseung started dating you, your love for winter created a small fondness in him. he loves it when he gets to see your pretty smile and your nose red-tinted from the cold.

he loves it most when you both would take the train back after a day out and you would fall asleep on his shoulder, hands tucked on his to keep yourself warm.

PARK JONGSEONG

jay had never really been picky with anything. having being the cook back at home and even now cooking for you made him accustom to people’s likes.

one thing, however, that never had he enjoyed was caffeine. he hated the bitter aftertaste of it. the smell that always lingers.

but when you once bought him an americano back when you both were still friends, he downed the whole thing. making you laugh, he liked hearing your laugh, it was addicting. he saw how you were savoring the taste after every sip. thinking that if you liked it, it shouldn’t be that bad.

and now, every morning before you woke up, he’d add coffee-brewing to his routine. making both of you coffee before heading for work. but really, he just loved seeing you hum in delight after a sip, a small smile on your lips.

“you’re so good at this, babe” you say, complimenting his brewing skill.

“why don’t you give me a kiss for it then”

SIM JAEYUN

you loved musicals. from hamilton to phantom of the opera, you’ve always loved watching them if they played in theaters near you.

jake, however, would rather spend his time playing soccer or watching a movie at the comfort of his home. he didn’t find musicals interesting, refusing whenever his friends offered to go watch one together.

however, when you offered, he found himself sitting near front seats in a large theatre. completely invested in the story line. he took down internal notes in his head knowing you’d start talking about it the moment you both walked out the theatre, just so he could give his own perspective in case you asked.

he would listen to you talk all day if it meant having to watch musicals often. asking you to repeat things to see your smile grow. his eyes linger on you, observing the pretty smile you have and the excited glint in your eyes as you talked away.

“wait, can you explain again about what happened to her in the end?”

PARK SUNGHOON

possibly the biggest hater of mint chocolate chip ice cream, sunghoon would not get near it. if he had a choice, he’d rather choose something more simple like vanilla.

but all in all, sunghoon never really liked ice cream. he doesn’t understand the enjoyment people get whenever they’d crave it.

apparently all it took for him to finally try the flavor he most despised was for you to (barely) beg him to hang out with you. he was too flustered when you asked him what flavor he wanted and when you asked if he wanted the same order as you did, he just nodded. barely registering what you said.

he unfortunately did not realize this until he scooped up a spoonful of the ice cream and tasted the familiar, yet, unfavorable taste. however, after much thought and probably the sweet smile you were giving him, he concluded that it didn’t taste as bad as he thought it would.

after dating, sunghoon would often pick up ice cream for you two after a long week, eating it together while huddled up watching a movie in your living room.

the taste of it was always there, but he understood why you adored the flavor. it growing on him more than he’d expected, especially when you’re the one he’s eating it with.

KIM SUNOO

being alone creeps him out. he gets terrified if he was ever left home alone. that’s one of the reasons why he loved going out.

he finds it comforting being surrounded by people, chatting along with anyone and everyone, catching up with them.

before you were in his life, he felt like being alone further makes him feel unwanted. busying himself with anything if, in a case, he were to be left alone.

when you did come into his life, though, it was like you rearranged the meaning of being alone. you love the peace and quiet of being alone. the silence that seems to fill the room letting you breath for a moment.

technically, he still didn’t really like being alone. sometimes, he’d call you to his apartment to ‘be alone’ with you. none of you speaking any words to each other, just laying down and listening to each other’s breathing. so many words unsaid but the feelings able to be conveyed through gestures.

you’d taught him how to enjoy the quietness. he finds that when he’s alone he felt more calm and centered. still, as a person who loves talking, he would always prefer being with people.

but, you redefined the meaning of being alone and he loves you for it. he loves the way you look happy and at peace all the time, he loves it when you both be alone together.

YANG JUNGWON

“babe, can you get my socks pretty please?”

as a person who gets cold easily, you love bundling yourself up before sleeping. your necessities were your 2 blankets, a pillow for your side and socks.

jungwon always found it iffy to wear socks in bed. even if he were to buy new ones to wear only in his house, he still wouldn’t like the feeling of it.

that was until he was introduced to you by a mutual friend. when you two started talking, he found your many quirks adorable.

however, one that he only found out when you started dating, was that you loved wearing socks to sleep. his horror back then showed on his face when you asked him if he were okay.

overtime, you gradually convinced him. especially if it was winter and the coldness would go up by twice the usual weather. being used to your routine, he didn’t even realize he started wearing socks to bed until you pointed it out when he was sleeping over.

the realization he had was baffling, but as he accustomed to it he didn’t find it weird at all. he would start buying you both matching socks when he was out and was thinking of you.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“let’s get back to bed, love”

everyone knows riki is not a morning person. he hated waking up early more than anyone. it’s not weird to find him coming out of his room at 1 pm.

by 1pm, you’ve probably already went to a cafe, had breakfast, catches up with a friend, and had a 2-hour lecture.

when you got involved with riki, you tried your hardest to wake him up early. his friends had told you to give up many times saying they’ve tried over and over again.

but miraculously, on your 7th try, he woke up. although, grumbling, he started sitting up and asking what you were doing at his dorms.

the first time you tried you were just there to drop off some food to your big brother. but when you knocked and no one answered, you were about to leave. until one of his dorm mates opened the door to let you in.

they were all stood crowded in front of his room, shouting at him to wake up, but he never moved. still sound asleep after a whole debate session ensued in the dorms.

after your brother and his friends collectively decide to leave him alone instead of trying to wake him up, you put it upon yourself to try as well. little did you know, he’d heard all your wake up calls, just too afraid to face you, seeing his bedhead and all.

7th times the charm however, when he finally braved himself to wake up and reply to you, although his heart pounding abnormally when you smiled at him.

when you two started dating, he couldn’t not wake up before you. much more aware of his surroundings when he’s around you.

riki however is riki. if he were to wake up earlier, then you would also have to wake up later sometimes because of him. deciding to stay in for a bit longer when he asks to, surrounded by his warmth.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[eternaldecisions]

˙ . ꒷ introducing slytherin!matt . 𖦹˙—

slytherin ! matt has put you in a spiral about him.

His name was all around Hogwarts, for what reason? not even god knows, how does a person quickly appears in the magic school and gets everyone in a spiral about him?

was because he was a slytherin guy, the tough facade ready to be shown to everyone?

"I swear, I can't stand that guy anymore. What is it with him? Girls are practically falling at his feet," Sarah sighs, exasperated. She has a point—he's just another typical Slytherin, all charm and no substance. Everything about him screams ordinary, a textbook example of the same old story.

oh but as he came across as a pretty standard guy, there was something undeniably captivating about him. His charm was woven into the intricate tattoos that adorned his sleeve, and the vintage rings that graced his long, slender fingers that sat on his index and pinky fingers, their placement almost suggestive of a hidden secret, adding a touch of mystery to his persona.

just as you're about to respond to the blondie, the crunch of footsteps on dead leaves catches your attention. The sound grows closer, and you instinctively turn around, already knowing who it would be.

Matt.

his brown hair falls effortlessly over his eyes, lips slightly swollen and tinged with a rosy hue. Clearly, he’d already had his morning indulgence with a girl, and it was only 9:24 a.m.

"Who are you?" his question lingers in the air, but the words are barely a whisper, more a shiver of breath than a voice. You his presence behind you, heavy and silent, like the weight of a shadow cast by something unseen. The wooden bench beneath you creaks softly, protesting under the tension that has suddenly thickened the night.

Matt’s cold hand grazes the back of your neck, the touch icy and unnatural, as if the chill of a winter's night had come alive and reached out to you. It’s more than just a sensation. The shiver it sends down your spine is almost electric, each nerve ending tingling in alarm.

then, you feel it—cold, and metallic rings pressed against your skin. The object, smooth and unforgiving, clings to your neck like a phantom chain, tightening ever so slightly as if testing your pulse. You dare not move. The air around you thickens, as if the shadows itself is watching.

"Who are you?" you retort back, spinning around as you rise from the bench. Your voice cuts through the tension like a knife, defiant and sharp. His hand, once that was cold against your neck, is now tucked under his crossed arms as he steps closer, his posture exuding an arrogant confidence that only fuels your irritation.

"Sweetheart, I thought you knew me already," Matt chuckles, the sound laced with a smugness that grates on your nerves. Behind him, his group echoes his laughter, their loyalty to him as blind as puppies trailing around their master.

his hand finds its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His touch is gentle, almost tender, but there's a control in it that makes your skin crawl. You resist the urge to pull away, holding his gaze with a defiance that you know he wasn’t expecting.

"What do you want?" you sigh, your gaze locked on his icy blue eyes. They're the kind of eyes that seem to pierce through you, cold and calculating, even as his lips part in a sly grin. You catch the faint scent of the mint of the bubblegum he’s chewing, the freshness oddly out of place in this tense moment.

"You’re new here, can’t I see you?” he laughs, the sound casual, almost playful, but there's an edge to it that keeps you on guard. His hand releases your chin, retreating back to his crossed arms as he continues to study you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

his gaze shifts, and he nods towards the bench where your best friend, Sarah, sits watching the exchange. "Is that your friend?" he asks, pointing her out. Sarah's blonde hair catches the sun light, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. She’s sitting in the bench where you were a moment ago.

you nod, trying to avoid his gaze, but it’s harder than you expected. Your eyes drift to the leaves scattered on the ground, their rustling the only sound that fills the silence between you. He notices, of course. A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don’t bite.” he coos softly in your ear, the warmth of his breath contrasting sharply with the chill he leaves behind. He pulls back, that smug grin still plastered on his face, before turning away. He leads his group away, their laughter echoing faintly as they disappear into the distance.

you’re left standing there, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and frustration, your heart pounding louder than you’d like to admit. They weren’t wrong when they said Matt was quite the charmer.

the lunch break passes in a blur, leaving you feeling like time slipped through your fingers too quickly. Now, you find yourself in Sybill Trelawney’s class, the room thick with the drowsy energy of students on the verge of sleep. The dim lighting and Trelawney’s droning voice only make it harder to keep your eyes open, each blink lasting a little longer than the last.

you fight to stay awake, forcing your gaze to wander around the room. It’s then that you spot Matt in the back of the class, his attention clearly not on the lesson. He’s chatting quietly with Colby, another Slytherin, while fidgeting with a pencil between his index and middle fingers. The movement is effortless, almost mesmerizing, and before you realize it, your thoughts start to drift. Imagination takes over, creating scenarios that you quickly push away, knowing they’re nothing more than fleeting fantasies.

but then you snap back to reality, realizing you’ve been staring for too long. Your gaze meets Matt’s, and he’s looking right back at you. There’s no smirk, no knowing grin—just a neutral expression, as if he’s caught you in a moment you wish you could take back. Your heart skips a beat, the awkwardness hanging in the air between you, and you quickly look away, pretending to be interested in the lesson. But the moment lingers, a silent connection that leaves you wondering what he’s really thinking.

Matt chuckles to himself, his eyes flicking toward you as he continues to study your face from the corner of his eye. He’s taking in every detail, memorizing your features, almost as if he’s trying to figure you out. But then, with a scoff, he looks away, as if dismissing whatever thoughts had crossed his mind.

the bell rings, a sharp sound that jolts you from your thoughts. You scramble to gather your things, hoping to make a quick exit and avoid another encounter with Matt. But fate, it seems, has other plans. As you hurry towards the door, you bump straight into him. The impact is sudden, and your heart sinks when you see that familiar smirk curling on his lips.

before you can even react, Matt’s hand reaches up, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth. You freeze as he wipes away a smudge of lip liner with a cold, deliberate touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You’re quite the starer," he murmurs, his grin widening as he pulls his hand back, leaving your skin tingling in the aftermath. You open your mouth to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

"Don’t worry," he adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I won’t embarrass you in front of everyone by telling that you stare at people more than you should." He lets out a brief laugh, the sound echoing in your ears as he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite name.

and as you watch him go, you know that this is just the beginning.

taglist: @fawnchives @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @mattsbrowser @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @jetaimevous @archiebabiesworld @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Bruce, Orange, Mint Chocolate Chip

@roanawayspoons Prompt fill #4. Feel free to continue this if you want!

“So, how do I clean up?”

Bruce looked up from the glass of seltzer he had been nursing to help is aching head and almost swallowed his tongue.

“That good, huh?” Danny asked with a laugh and did a little twirl for Bruce.

“That good,” Bruce agreed.

He set his glass aside and approached, not bothering to stop his eyes from roaming appreciatively over Danny. Due to the nature of Phantom’s apparel, Bruce had never seen Danny in a suit before. Any formal or fundrasing event for the Justice League Phantom had simply had to go in his hero suit. And in their lives outside of the League, they had been keeping things so far on the down low that there had been no opportunity before.

With how good Danny looked, Bruce wish that they had done this sooner.

“Last chance to back out,” Danny said.

Bruce looked up with furrowed brows. “Do you not want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” Danny said with a smile that was tinged with sadness. “But if we break up, then in a few months no one will even remember me. You, though, they’ll never let go of you being bi.”

Bruce snorted. “You forget how the press is with bisexuality. While I’m dating you they’ll call me gay. If we break up, which I certainly don’t intend to, they’ll call this all a phase as soon as I have model or two on my arms as cover.”

“Still, you know this will come up in every article about your dating life from now until forever,” Danny said.

“I do,” Bruce said. He reached out and placed a hand on the side of Danny’s face. Danny closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. The smile finally lost it’s sadness. “I do and I would always make the same choice. Go to dinner with me, Danny? I don’t want to hide you anymore.”

Danny turned his head and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s palm. “Okay, let’s go give Gotham a show.”

[shuaraes]

we shouldn’t have ended like this | x.mh

- leave your message after the beep

oneshot | 1.3k | exes! au | angst

it’s three am and xu minghao has never felt more lonely in life. drunk on melancholy and emptiness, he ruminates on your relationship and regrets the way you both had ended. even though it’s late at night, minghao tries to rewrite his wrongdoings because deep down he knows a part of you still loves him.

~ paring . xu minghao x gender-neutral!reader

~ content . exes (to lovers???)! au, non idol! au, miscommunication- no even lack of communication,

~ tw . mentions of alcohol, vague mentions of sex

~ song rec . only ones we know - arctic monkeys

~ author’s note . the idea for this was adapted from some of my poetry. my prose is still a bit rusty but i hope this is decent enough! happy christmas to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t hope you have a great day, happy reading! 🫶

MINGHAO’S BED IS EMPTY.

It has been for the past year, yet he can’t wrap his head around it. He lies down on the navy sheets of his queen-sized bed and reaches out to the other side. For some reason he expects it to be warm to the touch: he is met with only coolness. Not cool in the way a sip of water after a mint is or the rush of the winter wind not blocked by fabric. The coolness is like a ghost: the phantom of you that haunts every part of his dwelling.

The walls mourn for your presence, whispering your name, muted pleas into Minghao’s ear. Your name creeps up on him when he least expects it, after the two month-mark, he gave up trying to push you out. ‘It shouldn’t have ended like this,’ the walls call out to him. ‘We shouldn’t have ended like this,’ your last words to him. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

If Minghao squints hard enough, he can still see the imprint of your body, the permanent dent in the mattress where you used to lie. Minghao tries to pretend that just minutes ago, you were engulfed in his sheets, him engulfed in you. He waits for you to fill the dent in the mattress, to mend the hole in his heart.

But you don’t come. And he is alone.

Minghao turns over to face the celling, his jet-black hair falling on his pillow around his head like a halo. His fan spins like a vinyl on a record player from the 60’s. In his head, it’s playing your favourite song. He hums along to the lyrics, you always said he had a good singing voice. This thought almost breaks him.

You broke up with Minghao because you thought you could not love him enough, not knowing your mere presence was more than enough for him. If you were a baby flame, he was a pyromaniac, hand outstretched ready to be burnt. But when it got hard you pushed him away to protect his own feelings, so he became distant and pushed you out. It came to a point where Minghao felt it was like living with a stranger.

When you proposed a breakup, Minghao wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t act like he was either. He stayed deathly silent as you spoke, staring into his mug of tea that had long gone cold. “Fine.” He said as he looked into brown void of his cup (if he looked you in the eye, he would have broke). But with your closing words he knew it was a mistake, you still loved him (he will forever love you). It shouldn’t have ended like this, yet Minghao did nothing to prevent it.

Even after a year, Minghao wonders why he didn’t fight harder. Maybe it’s because, subconsciously, he knew you were too good for him. You deserved someone less cowardly, someone who would never let you go like a children’s balloon, would never let you go so easily. Yet nothing can stop the green-eyed monster of jealousy, waltzing around in her emerald ball gown whenever he hears about you with someone else. Your shared friends give him updates on how you’re doing, but when someone else is mentioned romantically, he shuts out. Trying to piece together why it wasn’t him instead.

Selfishness is a sin - he knows that - but he can’t help from wanting you all to himself. So, he tries to have you in any way he can. He sleeps with your favourite blanket, he washes his clothes with your favourite brand of detergent and in the winter, by the heater, he warms a pair of your house slippers that you never remembered to collect. He searches for you in the bodies of others, the dips in their collarbones and curves of their spines, but of course they cannot compare to you. No one does. If these hook ups amounted to even 1% of what Minghao feels for you, then he wouldn’t complain. But they don’t.

Minghao misses you.

In life, Minghao believes that people only get one chance at true love. He’s scared that he’s used all his luck up on you.

The loss of you gnaws away at him. It wains away at his resolve and destroys any hope for a life away from you. A slow dull pain, it was always in the back of his mind: inescapable though manageable. Minghao didn’t know what was different about tonight, but all he knows is that he has never felt the same about anyone else.

The past kills him. It strangles him, leaving him paralysed with no choice but to face his mistakes. His love for you kills him inside out. It eats away at his psyche until all that is left of him are his feelings for you. It’s three am and all that remains of him is you.

It has always been you.

Fuck it, he picks up his phone off his nightstand and dials your number. Minghao knows he’s not thinking straight, but if he doesn’t at least try to reach you, he will resent himself until the day he dies. The line starts to ring and Minghao holds the phone to his ear with bated breath and clammy hands. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears pounding like a wooden mallet while he waited.

After what felt like eons, the line goes to voicemail. Of course, it did, it’s three am. Minghao feels stupid for thinking you’d pick up. The automated voice reads out the predetermined script to tell him that you can’t answer the phone the right now. It then asks to leave a message if desired. Minghao knows he shouldn’t, he doesn’t care, he loves you.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Hey, it’s Minghao” his voice wavers, it’s obvious he’s nervous. “Call me when you get this.”

Minghao presses the keypad to end the voice message, yet he feels empty. This isn’t closure, this isn’t what he needs. With this alone, in the morning, you’ll probably delete the message and go on with your life.

Minghao is tired of pretending to be rational, hiding his feelings behind a masquerade of poise and nonchalance. He’s going insane because of you, and he needs to let you know, you need to know how much he loves you.

He left another voicemail.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Y/N, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you. A year of no contact and you get a call from me out of the blue, but for once I’m begging, give me a chance. Listen, I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we first met, since the day we broke up and i think i’m going to love you every day until I die. I don’t think i let it show but you were my endgame, after you i don’t want to love anyone else,”

Minghao could feel himself rambling, his words tumbling from his lips uncontrollably. His heart is a spilled glass of milk, all his soul on display for your critique. He wants to stop himself from speaking but he can’t, so he continues,

“Letting you go so easily was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve fought for you, and I know it may be too late but I’m doing it now.

Tomorrow let me take you out to dinner, we can dress up nice and get drunk off our heads. Then I’ll order us a taxi back to yours or mine I don’t mind, then we’ll slow dance to that one jazz album you like, and I’ll promise to never push you away. Things won’t be perfect, and we both have a lot to work on, but I don’t care. Everything is perfect enough for me as long as you're by my side. And before you say I’m drunk, trust me I’m not, I’m a bit sleepy but that doesn’t change a thing. I love you so much Y/N.”

Minghao cuts the phone down and the screen fades to his lock screen, a candid photo of you from a year ago that he refused to change. He places his phone on his heart (your home) and falls asleep waiting for it to ring.

[myymi]

If you had asked Sonic how he felt about being alone four years ago, he would've told you it was the most freeing feeling in the world.

It's not that he disliked people or didn't want to be around anyone. He had plenty of friends.

But there was something special about being able to run away from everyone and everything. He loved being able to disappear in the blink of an eye without worrying about someone trying to keep up with him.

He got to live his life the way he wanted. It was his favorite thing.

And then he met Tails.

He's always thought he wasn't fit to be part of a family. He had never been able to find someone who could even remotely keep up with him, so he didn't bother trying to find a family.

But Tails was able to keep up. And he did so without ever asking Sonic to slow down so he could. He was fine running on the hedgehog’s time, no matter how tired it made him.

And now, as he watched the red echidna bury the small coffin that held his little brother, he couldn't help but hate how alone he was now.

The guardian had been the one to offer a place on Angel Island for him. A small, secluded area that he had previously decorated for when the kid decided to come visit.

Of course he wasn't literally alone. Knuckles, Amy, Shadow, and the rest of their friends were all there to say their final goodbyes to the little fox. But that didn't change the fact that it felt like a part of himself died.

He didn't know it when he first met the fox, but it truly felt like Tails filled in a hole in his heart that he hadn't known was missing. But now that the piece was ripped out of him, it was easy to notice.

He wasn't sure how much longer he'd last without that fox. Everyone knew it, there was no Sonic without Tails. They were inseparable.

But they had been ripped apart. Whatever tether that held their unbreakable bond had been snapped, forcing them to go their separate ways.

He just wishes it was him who was forced to lay in a grave too soon rather than his baby brother.

Tails didn't deserve it. The poor kid had been fighting every sort of battle imaginable since the moment he was born and he was only eight.

The universe had no right to take him now. Not when he fought so hard to survive. Not when he gave every last piece of himself to protect it.

He could still feel the phantom traces of his brother's blood soaking into his fingertips. He could still see the way the life inside his big, blue eyes faded.

He could still feel the way the little strength that Tails held left his body, forcing him to let go of the person who promised to keep him safe as he bled out in his arms.

This was Sonic's fault.

—

Sonic wasn't sure why he ran.

To be perfectly honest, he hadn't even known he ran until he nearly greeted the Tornado with a very aggressive accidental kiss.

He wasn't sure what to do with her now. He could never be able to take care of the Tornado half as well as Tails did. And while he wasn't a bad pilot by any means, he knew he wasn't the best either. (That title went to the fox that now slept in the ground, his cold body protected by the dirt surrounding his coffin.)

He'd need to figure out what to do with the Cyclone as well. He didn't have a clue on how to pilot that one, it was quite a bit more complex than the Tornado.

After he was done sadly staring at the red biplane, Sonic hopped into the cockpit.

The lingering smell of mint is what finally broke him.

One of the few ways he could tell his brother was sneaking up on him was the way he smelled. It was always a migraine-inducing minty aroma, the scent of his favorite candy clinging to the fox's fur.

As strong as the smell was, it was comforting. It was how he reminded himself of the day he'd finally got that kid to believe he wasn't going to hurt him.

The first time that Tails ever had mint candy. Or, well, candy in general.

Sonic will never forget the way his eyes lit up, shining practically as bright as stars do when he put that first piece of candy in his mouth. And even though he was offered sweeter candies that kids his age normally enjoyed, he was firm in only eating the mint ones.

It was strange, but it was such a small thing then that it didn't really matter to Sonic. He didn't care what the kid liked to eat as long as he ate something. Even if it did have a painfully strong smell.

Sonic didn't bother with trying to wipe away his tears. Why should he, anyways? It was his brother's funeral for Chaos’ sake. He should be allowed to cry. (That didn't erase how pathetic and disgusted he felt. Did he really deserve to mourn his brother when he's the reason there's a funeral in the first place?)

He didn't get long to ponder it when something gently touched him.

It admittedly scared the shit out of him, but he knew exactly who it was before even looking towards them.

“I don't mean to interrupt your grieving,” Knuckles said guilty, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I wanted to let you know that you're welcome to stay on Angel Island with him.”

Sonic's not really sure if ‘staying with him’ is the right way to word this situation, but he's also not sure what the correct wording is so he decides to settle on a numb nod. He doesn't trust his voice to carry any sort of conversation right now.

Knuckles didn't say anything after that, but he also didn't move from where he was crouched atop the Tornado’s wing. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it kept Sonic on edge.

“I know I'm not the best to talk to about emotions,” The echidna mumbled, running a paw through his quills as he spoke, “but I know what it's like to lose family. If you need help with grieving, you can ask.”

Despite the situation, Sonic managed to smile at the older mobian. He appreciated the offer a lot, and he knew he'd probably take him up on it whether he actually wanted to or not.

“I'll leave you be now.” The guardian said quietly before jumping off of the biplane’s wings. “If you wish to be alone from everyone, you can go into my cave.”

Sending the echidna a thumbs up made Sonic want to die. He was assaulted by the memories of when he and Tails first met the echidna. Back when he was unable to verbally speak, forced to hold conversations through expressions alone.

He wanted to scream, but his throat was throbbing from all the crying. He knows he should at least go see his friends, but he can't bring himself to look at any of them right now.

He decides to leave for Knuckles’ house when he feels his communicator buzz.

He gets to the cave on muscle memory alone, his mind occupied by playing the past four years on a sped up loop.

He felt insane. He would tell someone without a doubt that he's known Tails for forever, but it had only been four years since they met.

It wasn't until he collapsed on Knuckles’ bed that Sonic decided to check the message he received, not surprised to see it from Amy.

He didn't have it in him to fully read through the heartfelt message, but it was easy to understand from just skimming through it.

He figured responding to her message was the least he could do to keep her and the other from worrying about him right now.

He wasn't fine, and everyone knew that, but being around his closest friends and family wouldn't help right now.

The only thing that could help him was his little brother, but that wasn't in the cards for him. Not anymore. It's warm in the small cave, but Sonic still shivers as he curls into a ball.

He doesn't think he'll ever be warm again. Not when he felt his baby brother's body slowly grow cold.

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Two Weirdos Pt.2

A small scenario for these two lovebirds🖤💚🤍

————

He was watching him again

It was comforting, in a way, knowing he was never alone. Always having someone by his side. It was nice.

He felt him move closer. He wondered if he liked drawing. Would he like what he was drawing right now?

Damian didn’t stop drawing, the pencil scraping against paper the only sound. Well, now that he listened, he could actually hear him softly singing. It was cute. He had a lovely voice.

'☾@η∂¥ ḉꪮʟꪮяε∂ ḉʟꪮʊ∂ş, ʟḯḟ⊥ ღε ḟяꪮღ ⊥нε ɠяꪮʊη∂

∀η∂ ḉ@яя¥ ღε @ẘ@¥~'

He was right behind him, looking over his shoulder

'Ħḯɠн ʊ℘ ḯη ⊥нε şḱ¥,

Ꮥḯ⊥ş @ ḱḯηɠ∂ꪮღ ⊥н@⊥ ℐ

Ħ@ṽε яʊʟε∂ ꪮṽεя ḟꪮя ∂εḉ@∂εş'

Arms wrapped around him, his head resting on his shoulder

'฿ʊ⊥ яεḉεη⊥ʟ¥ ḯ'ṽε♭εεη

Ꮥꪮ

Ḻꪮηʟε¥'

Damian leaned back into him and listened

'ℐ ηεε∂ şꪮღεꪮηε ⊥ꪮ

ℝʊʟε

฿εşḯ∂ε ღε

Шḯʟʟ ¥ꪮʊ ♭ε ღ¥ ḱḯηɠ?

Ꭷя ⓠʊεεη

ℐ⊥ ∂ꪮşεη⊥ яε@ʟʟ¥ ღ@⊥⊥εя ⊥ꪮ ღε

∀ş ʟꪮηɠ @ş ¥ꪮʊ şẘε@я

✞н@⊥ ¥ꪮʊ'ʟʟ @ʟẘ@¥ş

Ꮥ⊥@¥♭εşḯ∂ε ღε

@η∂ ʟꪮṽε ღε ʟḯḱε ℐ ʟꪮṽε ¥ꪮʊ~'

Oh, how wonderful. It was obviously a proposal, he was obviously asking for his hand in marriage. And how could he refuse?

'ℐη ꪮʊя ḉ@η∂¥ ḉꪮʟꪮяε∂ ḉ@ş⊥ʟε

ℐ⊥'ʟʟ ḟεεʟ ʟḯḱε @ ∂яε@ღ

Ꮥḯ⊥⊥ḯηɠ ♭εşḯ∂ε ღε

@ş ʟꪮηɠ @ş ¥ꪮʊ şẘε@я

✞н@⊥ ¥ꪮʊ'ʟʟ @ʟẘ@¥ş

Ḻꪮṽε ღε ʟḯḱε ℐ ʟꪮṽε ¥ꪮʊ~'

Damian had to see him. He had to. He'd waited so, so long, dreaming day and night about his beloved. And now with this proposal he felt it was finally time. He turned his head—

And oh

He was breathtaking

Whispy white hair that danced as if underwater, light mint skin with slightly pointed ears and green dying stars for eyes, he was everything Damian ever wanted and more. Even his freckels were perfect, taking the shape of constellations.

He had to have him. He had to have him Now

Damian reached for him—

And flipped him over onto his lap.

He made as small 'eep' sound that made Damians chuckle. "Don't be embarrassed, my love. I should be, after that wonderful song. Did you write it yourself? You very talented."

His future husband blushed a beautiful dark green that made his freckles stand out, and then he smiled so wide Damian worried it hurt. It also showed him his fangs, which immediately gave him a new petname.

"You liked it!?" he asked, leaning up and wrapping his arms around him. Damian smiled and kissed his head which was so amazing and he NEEDED to do it again and again and again until he kissed every part of him

"I loved it. You want to be wed, yes?" Oh, he looked so happy. It was so cute, so lovely, so perfect.

He giggled and swooned, kissing his cheek and giggling again as he snuggled into him. Snuggling! Into him! Damian could die right now and he wouldn't care. He buried his face into his hair. He smelled like citrus and ozone.

"Oh yes! I've dreamed about it since I met you. Who do you want as your best man? What type of flowers do you like? A season you prefer? A place? Religion?"

He chuckled again. "Slowly, kitten." Damian liked that petname. It appeared his beloved did too. "I didnt plan our first date just for us to jump to the wedding. I dont even know your name."

His beloved smiled dreamily.

"My name is Danny. Danny Phantom."

[jadedwolf18-blog]

Mini Phantom Invasion.

Hi, I plan for this to be a series of inter connected one shots based on some of my favorite prompts. I’m a huge Tim Drake/Red Robin x Danny phantom shipper, so for now most of my fics will feature them. Once I’ve end this series, I’ll try branching out to other relationships Danny could have with the bats.

I can’t remember where I got all of them but I’ll try to tag as I find them. If anyone notices a prompt or plot they’ve seen please let me know or tag the person it came from. I’m knew to posting on Tumblr so I’m still getting used to how to tag and insert links. Thank you.

🤍🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

Chapter 1

Danny was not having a good day. He’d had a fight with his parents about ghost hunting, stating clearly that he had no interest in their bias views on an entire species based on one encounter when they were young. It had escalated to the point where they blamed his lack of interest on the fact that he was spending to much time with his sister and his female friends. 

He’d had enough! He left mid argument and was contemplating just packing up and moving into the Ghost Zone permanently. As he’d slammed the door he could hear his parents shouts for him to come back and once again blaming his behaviour on a ghost.

What did his sexuality have to do with ghost hunting? And what was wrong with wanting to be more feminine sometimes? He honestly didn’t understand why they found it so weird or wrong for him to swap between genders and pronouns? Jazz, Sam and Tucker accepted him as he was, they didn’t but an eye when he would randomly say ‘she’, ‘they’ or ‘him’, they just continued the conversation with the new pronoun and that was that. They understood and accepted that sometime he felt male or female or neither. He was lucky to have them. 

The day just seemed to continue down hill from there. It was summer vacation so Sam was forced to spend time with her parents at some rich holiday resort, Tucker had won a spot in some sort of tech camp and Jazz was still at College working on a finals thesis and was unable to come back for the summer. He was essentially alone for the summer. He could hang out with Val but she was working a lot and he didn’t want to bother her. He still felt guilty about her dad losing his job, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault.

*****

After leaving the house he’d found a place to transform and let the cool rings of light soothe him and took off into the sky. After finding out they could survive in space it became their favourite way to relax, they’d spend ours exploring space, even hang out on the moon. Thank you high speed and portal powers. Their Phantom form had changed in the last two years. People could no longer tell if they were male or female and he looked less human now. Thankfully, they looked nothing like their alternate future self. When their legs melded together their ghostly tail looked more eel like and their ears were longer and thiner, resembling delicate fins. Jazz and their friends had joked about how the acted like cat ears. Lastly their face was now a pale mint color, almost white and translucent, his eyes were still the same luminous ecto-green with deep blue pupils. The only similarity to Dan, that they could see, were the fangs and longer hair both of which were also present in their human form.

*****

They had been flying around Amity, a somewhat lazy patrol of his claimed haunt, it was a calm night. Ever since they had defeated Pariah Dark the other ghost had calmed down and came to Amity less frequently. A few still came to bug them, namely Skulker, Ember, Johny and Kitty. Young Blood and Boxy more frequently than the others and of course Cujo came by often. Their visits were more to do with fulfilling their obsessions than anything else. Danny’s obsession was Space but so was Protection. They needed to fulfil both to some extent or suffer from a form of ghost hunger. It was a win win situation even if they did go back… home? Was it really still a home? 

Before they could go down that dark spiral again their instincts took over and they narrowly dodged a bright green shot that had been aimed at their head. Whirling around and flying higher out of range they looked at their attacker and just stared.

“of course it’s them.” They muttered. Before repeating it with more venom than they thought they were capable of. Which was shocking because not even Vlad had receive as much hatred in the entirety of the time they’ve known him than in that split second they felt it towards their own parents. “Of fucking course it’s them!”

They blink away the shock of such an intense emotion and huffed. Not even bothering to acknowledge them they turned around to leave. That had been a mistake. They’d barely made it a few paces before pain bloomed across their back as an Eco-blast shredded the fins on their lower back and bit deep into their flesh. They bit back a cry of shock as they felt themselves plummet from the sky. It took a moment but they gathered enough concentration to open a portal. He didn’t care where they ended up as their only thought was ‘Somewhere safe.’

They fell through and just before they lost consciousness, they heard their parents yell after him.

“Get back here you ghost scum, so we can rip you apart molecule by molecule!”

“We won’t forgive you for corrupting our Danny!”

‘Of course… It’s always Phantoms fault…’ Danny’s world turned black as he continued to fall. Maybe when they opened their eyes again all of it would have been a dream.

*****

Somewhere in the infinite green a Grandfather clock chimed. A screen flickered. Time flowed on.

“All is as it should be.”

Chapter 2

(I'm Not A Cynic Song by Alec Benjamin)

Danny pulled their little floating ducks out of their personal pocket dimension and set them to gently drift in the hot spring. They had found it while wandering the forest. Their lower back still ached and they were a little worried about how it hadn’t healed completely yet.

*****

They didn’t know where they were or how long they had been in this dimension but they were safe and alone for the time being. When they’d woken up, the first thing they did was try to figure out where they were. thankfully no-one had discovered them, tucked away in the underbrush of the forest they had landed in. They’d let invisibility wash over them and flew high enough to get a view of the land. They recognised asian architecture and flew in the direction they had spotted a small farming village. With a closer look they determined they had landed in some version of Japan. Instinctually they knew they were not in their home dimension. Everything, even the air and feel of the atmosphere felt slightly shifted to the left. It was like that feeling of entering a hotel room, they were all essentially the same but there were the little details that told you it was a different hotel. 

*****

Brushing the thought, and everything associated with the reason they were injured and alone in a foreign dimension, aside. They coiled their tail in the centre of the spring and sank down until their lower back was submerged in the healing warmth of the spring. Closing their eyes in content they began to hum. Their eyes shot open when they felt a gentle nudge against his arm but smiled gently at the little wisp as it bobbed and drifted in the breeze. They continued to hum and watched in amusement as more joined the first. The little orbs of light ranged in color from soft pale blues to vibrant greens and warm reds, oranges and yellows.

They lost themselves in their song as they twirled in and played with the water, creating little floating ice crystals that caused mist to form around them as hot and cold air danced around each other. Humming soon gave way to words as they swayed to the rhythm only they could hear. 

“I'm just bein' realistic, bein' honest with myself

I've tried bein' optimistic but it doesn't seem to help

So I'll just have to admit this is the hand that I've been dealt

I'm not bein' pessimistic, just bein' honest with myself”

They were thankful to Pandora, who had taught them to sing in an effort to train his ghostly wail, for realising he was taking on the form and habits of a triton. 

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They poured all the hurt, betrayal, anger and loneliness into their voice, allowing them to release it all in a more melodic call than his previous wail. That, as pandora explained, had been an unhealthy burst of emotion and they were lucky they hadn’t blown out their vocal cords the last few times they used it. 

“I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it”

Through their practice they found they could influence emotions but not out right control them. They were glad, influencing them was bad enough, he didn’t want to manipulate anyone. They didn’t want to spend their life wondering if the people around them truly cared or if they had somehow manipulated them into caring. They may me a budding empath but they still struggled to tell the difference between a sincere emotion and a projected emotion.

“You only get that which you're given, it's not always up to you

Not every Sunday is a picnic 'cause the sky ain't always blue

You can't just change the weather by changing your point of view

Some days you have to wait until the storm just passes through”

Danny’s voice grew louder as their emotions poured out into the lyrics. They knew they still had their friend, their sister, Elle and everyone in the Infinite Realm. They were also the Half Ghost son of ghost hunters and scientist with a heavy bias against Ecto-entities. They will be the rulers of an entire realm in only a few short years.

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They gave a bitter sweet smile as they watched the wisps duck and weave between the ice crystals. They looked around for their ducks and their smile turned a little more sad as they waved their hand and the little ducks joined the dancing lights and crystals. Each one was modelled after his favourite comic book vigilante. They’d had to save them from the dump truck once, they’d been looking for them when he’d asked his parents, their father had made an off hand comment about how he should throw out old toys and they’d panicked. They’d manage to find and save them all just before the truck arrived.

“So like a boat on the ocean, I'll rock with the waves

God, I'm so sick of this notion that I have to fake

Fake my emotions and pretend I'm okay

So like a boat on the ocean, I'll just rock with the waves”

Jazz had bought them for them, after they had told her about being gender fluid and pan, they were probably one of their most treasured possessions. Jazz had gone on a whole spiel about how it’s important that she show support and provide a safe and understanding environment. They hadn’t been listening, they’d been crying. To caught up in their overflowing emotions and happiness. It lasted a day, their parents had been less than understanding, with their passive-aggressive comments and actions. 

“I'm not a cynic, oh, today's just not my day

I've tried to spin it 'bout a thousand different ways

But from every angle, oh, the outlook is the same

I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

Their frown returned. They had shot them, that in itself wasn’t unusual, as Phantom. Isn’t that a sad thought. What was was that there had been no prior warning. It was a sniper shot, from their mother. Only their heightened hearing and instinct had saved them from ending up dead dead instead of a Halfa. That bothered him

“I swear that I'm not a cynic, my glass just has no water in it today”

They returned to humming the last notes of their song as the dunked under the water to rinse off. They popped back up and gathered their ducks, floated up out of the spring and laughed as the wisps twirled around him. They landed on the ground, allowing their legs to form and walked off into the forest, dancing lights trailing after them. Completely unaware of their watchers.

*****

The shadows slunk away to report their findings. While two birds hesitantly returned to their temporary nest, One worried and wanting to help the being that reminded him so much of his younger siblings. The other having felt a connection to a being that had shared similar experiences, someone they wanted to help and if they wanted to end the beings loneliness… that was no one’s business but their own. Both slept little that night, both determined to find the being again and offer what they could to help.

*****

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2

@alinmenttreasure

@blackroserelina

@blacksea21090

@seraphinedemort

[dwritesit]

this was supposed to be just a ramble about t4t phantom dew scissoring but it turned into a whole. thing.

unedited, i just wrote this on my breaks at work today lol

tags?: trans ghouls, cunt/pussy/clit/dick/tit used to describe their anatomy, scissoring, puppy as a petname, looots of petnames for tommy

word count: 3244

read under the cut!

...

dew coming back from a trip, an errand that ifrit used to take care of and is now dews responsibility. he's tired, pent up from having to go alone, and he misses his mates so much that it drags at him - but its late when he arrives at the abbey so he knows he's going to have to wait until morning for any sort of pack cuddles or... more than that.

he heads right for his room, fumbling to balance all of his belongings while he pushes the door open, and he's met with the most delectable sight.

he nearly drops his bags when the scent hits him like a punch to the nose. lavender and mint, electric on his taste buds as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. the scent burrows into dews gut, quickly burning into heated desire as sweet whimpers tickle his ears.

"what's this, puppy?" dew will ask, slowly setting his things down.

phantom whines at the name, his hips still thrusting against the pillow like an invisible force is moving them. the quintessence ghoul’s cheeks are blotchy, hes been crying, wailing as he gets close to the edge but can never reach the finish line. he didnt register dew at first, so lost in his heat, in the sensation of dews pillow against his little dick, but as soon as he realizes dew is there, the fire ghouls name is flying off his tongue like a reverence.

dew takes in the sight before him. phantom, bare as the day he was summoned, his lilac and white patched skin glinting with sweat. his plush lips were swollen, they looked bitten, chewed with worry as the poor ghoul tried desperately to catch his release and was met only with more need. dark hair, streaked with white at the front was a mess, poking out in all different directions. what really caught dew was phantoms eyes. how his furrowed brow scrunches and precious tears continue to tumble down his soft cheeks as the fire ghoul stares at him.

"please," phantom says shakily. his hips slow, and dews breath catches in his chest as he admires the large, dark patch on his off-white pillowcase. it wont come out, he already knows, its going to smell of the quint ghoul's desire for him until theyre long gone from the earth. dew doesnt care. he plans to shove his face in the pillow after the night is over and breathe it in while he touches himself.

it burns through him, lust, need, want, desperation. like he's pulling phantom's emotions off his shoulders and adding them to his own. it makes him feel lighter, and he wants to pounce and ravage and take the sweet ghoul apart, to make him cry. equally, it fills him with warmth. with passion, love, makes him feel gooey inside to find one of his mates waiting for him like this - that phantom had missed dew just as he had missed him.

so he moves slowly. though his quickly stiffening clit spasms in his boxers. he takes his time, keeping eye contact with phantom, who is beginning to look more curious than distraught, as dew sits down on a bench across from the bed to untie his boots.

phantom stills himself, watching the fire ghoul, waiting for instructions and dew knows it. the room is quiet, and dew also knows how the other ghoul tends to squirm against the lack of rules. hed be desperate to know what sort of game dew is about to play - maybe he will be patient and wait for dew to tell him what is going to happen, or-

"im sorry," it's almost a whisper, voice coarse probably from crying. it makes dew wonder why none of the other ghouls had gotten to the room first, they must have heard the shouts of pleasure throughout the entire hallway lined with their separate bedrooms.

dew clicks his tongue as he slides one boot off and then moves to the other, taking his eyes away from phantom to focus on his task. there was a wet patch spreading through his own underwear, making his fingers shake against the strings. he cant wait to take phantom apart.

"sorry for what, baby boy?"

phantom whines, "your pillow, dewy. i ruined your pillow."

the other boot comes off and hits the floor with a loud thud. dews tail flicks at the nickname he only allows this puppy to use.

"that's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. its just a pillow," dew says as he stands. he shucks off his jacket and tosses it over a chair, but leaves the rest of his clothes on as he approaches the bed. he watches phantoms eyes flick up and down his body, a silent question as to whether or not dew planned to stay clothed. dew doesn't answer it.

"why didn't you ask one of the others to help you? you're in heat." he says instead, and phantoms eyes well up again in response, "did you miss me?"

phantom nods fervently, catching his lower lip on one of his fangs in an attempt to not cry.

"just-just wanted you. needed- need you. it hurts"

dew understands this; many of the ghouls' heats often craved for a specific partner in the beginning, sometimes craving the mate they hadn't been with in a while, or in dew's case, it was always rain who he was bonded with. the heat doesn't settle until it gets what it wants.

dew reaches out to stroke phantom's cheek, and the quintessence ghoul leans into his hand heavily, a crackling purr kicking in instantly as he nuzzles dews skin. dew's own purr spurs to life, filling the silence with their rumbles. he feels good. being needed, being missed. and phantom's openness, some might call naïve, but to dew it was beautiful. the quint ghoul unburdened by shame, wearing all of his emotions on his pretty features, not yet instilled with the insecurities and fears many of the other ghouls gathered during their time on earth. a part of dew aches, remembering how he had once been just as vulnerable, splaying his heart out for all of his lovers - he's grateful for their patience with him now. he's grateful for this ghoul in front of him who doesn't even know yet that one might judge the display of emotions.

"need me to take care of you, sweet bug?" dew asks, bringing his other hand up to cup phantom's face. phantom nods in the hold, his body squirming under dew's watchful eyes. the fire ghoul considers what the next step is, should be. phantom often enjoyed when dew was mean, the back of a hand against his cheek, but tonight felt heavier than that. thick with more than just lust, softer around the edges.

"are you going to be good for me?" dew asks, taking step back, a shiver running down his spine as phantom chases his touch. the way he needs him makes possessiveness spark inside dews chest.

"always," phantom promises. dew takes another step back, just so he can see all of phantom before him. still poised on his knees, cunt pressed to the pillow. dew can tell he's itching for more friction, lilac tail hitting the mattress in quick succession.

"always good for me," dew says, "show me then."

"show you?" phantom tilts his head to the side cutely.

"show me how you were before i got home, tell me what you were thinking about."

phantom swallows visibly, nodding as he mentally prepares, "no teasing right?"

"i wont tease you tonight, sweet bug. just want to see how beautiful you are when you're so desperate for me."

phantom flushes at the words and nods again, more eagerly, "i was..." he grinds down on the pillow softly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment at the sensation, "i was thinking about you... missed you so much."

"did you miss my cock, baby?" dew gently palms himself through his pants, they were almost soaked through already.

phantom shook his head, "n-no, i mean - yes! always... but i wanted-want just you."

dew stares as phantom rolls his hips down harder. his little patch of hair above his slit is glistening with his slick, the puffiness of his lips are mesmerizing as they drag across the fabric. dews desire to grab and devour is almost as strong as his want to take his time with the other ghoul.

"i was thinking about that-that time when i felt- shit, felt you against me," phantoms words trail off into a moan. dew steps forward, unable to stop himself from lifting phantom's chin so he can swallow the sounds off of his tongue. he kisses him greedily; slow and deep, savoring his sharp, electric flavor, phantom continuing to let out sweet little noises into dew's mouth as he ruts against the pillow. when he lets go, phantom keens loudly.

"can we please?"

"please what, baby boy?" dew knows what.

"dewy, i need to feel you. i need it. it hurts, please."

dew kisses him again, filthier this time, until there's spit dribbling down his chin. he moans into it, which spurs the other ghoul on further, "you need to feel my pussy on yours?"

phantom cries out, hips stuttering at the words, more weak than even dewdrop is to dirty talk. dew knows it, revels in it.

"please, please!" phantom begs.

"want me to ride your sweet little cunt like last time?" dew emphasizes the words by reaching down between them to slide his fingers between phantom's folds. the quintessence ghoul ruts up into his hand, covering it in slick, moans growing louder. the whole abbey must know what they're up to by now. dew grins, thinking about how the other ghouls would be begging for every detail in the morning, probably jerking themselves to all of phantom's desperate noises.

"you have to let the pillow go and help me undress if you want it. can you do that for me, puppy?"

phantom nods quickly, but his body is reluctant as he slowly takes the pillow out from between his thighs. dew lets him take his time, shaky fingers pulling at his shirt buttons and struggling with his zipper. he knows phantom wants to earn it, wants to be good for him, so he lets him. praising him as he goes, drinking in the sight of his blushed cheeks, his wagging tail.

the room is thick with both of their scents by the time dews clothes are fully removed and tossed to some corner. they both breathe it in, phantom's sharp heated scent; the lavender and mint - and dew's beach campfire, salt and smoke. he likes the way they intertwine with each other, so different that they never fully homogenize, but its exciting the way he can taste both of them on the air.

phantom is staring at dew, between his thighs where the fire ghoul is now on display. he's waiting for permission.

"want to touch?" dew asks.

phantom licks his lips, "want to taste."

so dew lets him. he kneels onto the bed before settling back against the headboard. his thighs part, skin already shiny, his cunt aching. phantom wastes no time before diving in, licking up between dews folds, sucking his clit, lapping at his slick. a cacophony of moans and cries leave dew's tongue, forcing down embarrassment because he wants to bare himself open for phantom, wants him to know how good he makes him feel. phantom swallows it down, becomes more eager he louder dew gets.

a barrage of praises fall off dew's own tongue, and he grasps at phantoms hair, shoving him deeper, "that's it, baby, you're so good at this. making me feel so good, fuck."

he lets phantom up for a moment, and the quintessence ghoul is grinning, face covered in dew from his nose to his chin. his dark tongue swipes around his mouth, wiggling his ass in the air. then hes dropping back in again, his tongue poking at dew's hole before sinking inside and fucking in and out. dew shouts with pleasure, phantoms nose pressed against his clit as he licks inside him.

dew's gut tightens. he gently tugs on phantom's horn to bring him up, he doesn't want to finish like this. phantom looks drunk when he rises for the second time; pupils completely blown out, covering his bright gold irises almost completely, and he's whining while one of his hands slithers between his own legs.

dew replaces that hand with his own, teasing phantoms hard nub, its raw and sensitive, and he brings their mouths back together. the taste of himself fills his senses, electric campfire as he sucks his slick off of phantom's tongue. dew nips at his lips, adding sweet metallic to the spice, and phantom gives into all of it. gives all of himself to dew as he grinds into dews hand.

"you're so lovely," dew says against his lips.

"i love you," phantom cries in response.

dew cant help but smile into their kiss, fangs clicking together, "i love you too, sweetness."

"need you now, need to cum." phantom's breathing is erratic, his clit twitching in dews hand.

dew nods. he tries not to show it, wanting to remain calm and steady for his mate, but he needs it just as bad. he craved touch the whole weekend he was away.

"lay back for me, sweetheart. there you go,"

phantom lays back on the bed, head propped up with a pillow, one leg raising at the knee instinctively knowing what is coming. dew smiles at the beautiful vision before him.

"look how wet you are," he says, eyeing the way phantoms thighs have slick dripping down them, and now down towards his ass. the whole bed will need to be stripped but its worth everything, "almost as soaked as rainy when he's in heat."

"rainy," phantom breathes out.

dew grins, "yeah? want rainy to come help out in the morning?"

phantom nods, biting his lip. dew spreads his legs farther apart, raising himself up on his own legs to settle vertically across phantom's. he lifts one of phantom's legs higher, positioning himself so his own cunt is directly above his own. he's dripping down, aching to press against phantom's, to feel his little clit against his own.

"you know," he starts as he slowly lowers himself, wanting to drag out the heat of it all, "they're probably listening right now."

phantom nearly sobs as dew finally sits down, their cunts sliding together with how wet they both are. dew has to grit his teeth in order to not cry with him. he grinds down slowly, watching phantoms head fall backwards against the pillow, eyes rolling with the movement.

"they'll all be jealous, jerking off into their hands right now listening to your pretty sounds, puppy," dew continues, rolling his hips in a rhythm that phantom doesn't have enough brain left for to keep up with. the quintessence ghoul's hips only stutter and rut, and dew can't blame him. the sensation against all his aching parts is intense, he can feel his own heat being kicked at, pleasure zipping through every nerve in his body. the sounds made it worse, slick noises filling the air as he ground down on him. he tries to emphasize his movements over phantoms clit, wanting to stimulate him as much as he can.

"good puppy," dew says through his teeth, fingers digging dimples into phantom's thigh as he speeds up his pace, condensation beginning to bead on his brow and shoulders, "maybe we should let them watch next time, would you like that?"

phantom can't respond, too lost in it, falling into bliss as delicate feminine moans are ripped from his throat. dew wants to keep him there, keep his mate feeling this good forever. he knows how stressed the ghoul gets, how exhausted. phantom's love language was physical touch, a way for him to relax and cool down, and dew wants to give it all to him, make him feel loved. praise him for asking for what he needs.

dew's riding phantom in earnest, sweet words tumbling out unapologetically. phantom is crying his name, begging for more, asking if he's allowed to cum over and over.

"you need to cum baby?" dew asks, grinding harder, able to keep his own desperation out of his shaky voice. that familiar knot is growing in his gut, he needs this just as badly. to let go with his mate.

"need it so bad, want to cum with you."

"want to cum with you too, puppy."

phantom arcs off the bed, one hand digging into dews thigh, the other tweaking his own nipple - if dew could reach at this angle, he'd be sucking on them, running his forked tongue over the buds till phantom was crying from sensitivity.

"can you play with your other tit for me sweetheart? i cant reach, but i love how sensitive you get," dew says and phantom obeys quickly. hand leaving dews thigh and whimpers leaving his lips as he fondles himself. "good boy, so good for me."

"can i please cum?" phantom is crying, tears streaking down his cheeks, making his eyes sparkle.

"cum for me," dew begs, "cum with me."

he moves his hips back in forth, faster and faster, watching phantom's face as it contorts in concentration, chasing the finish line. phantoms body goes rigid for a moment, then he arcs up again, mouth agape with a cut-off cry as he finally gets his release. it gushes out, soaking between them further and that's all dew needs before he's coming with him, vision going white, legs shaking with the effort to keep riding phantom through it. he feels it between them, their releases combined, making the most sinful, wet sounds as dew slowly comes to a stop.

chest heaving, dew tries to catch his breath.

"dewy..." phantom's voice is mushy, and when dew looks at him, he sees the ghoul barely able to keep his eyes open.

"you wanna sleep?" he asks as he raises himself up, shivering as their combined fluids seep down his legs. phantom nods, already beginning to curl into a ball, his tail pulled up towards his mouth, "sleep, i'll clean you up, okay?"

"okay... i love you," phantom says sleepily around his tail. dew smiles, leaning over and pressing a lingering kiss to the sweet ghoul's forehead. he quickly goes to the bathroom to clean himself off, maybe he takes a little bit longer than intended because he can's resist sucking phantom's slick off his fingers, but eventually returns with a warm, wet washcloth. he keeps it warm with his magic as he wipes between phantom's thighs. he cleans it once, then returns to wipe the salt from the other ghoul's skin. he only has to move phantom once, just to put a fresh blanket down - he can strip everything tomorrow - and then settles down beside him.

he feels... good still. the ache is dulled. it's the best homecoming he's had in a while.

[im-queen-of-the-black-forest]

Submitted for your approval; The Nameless Ghouls, as unhinged quotes from my friends (or me).

Aether: I have acquired my birth receipt! Y’all can return me now!

Cirrus: I WILL PEE ON EVERYTHING YOU LOVE

Dewdrop: I swear to Buddha the next person who dabs on me is getting a cambro to the face.

Swiss: If you name that Pokémon “Sportacus” I’m disowning you.

Sunny: *sobbing* I’m not a cinnamon roll! I’m fierce!

Mountain: *licks Aether* you taste like a cracker.

Cumulus: hey you know that Disney trip we just took? That pun was so bad I’m retroactively uninviting you from it.

Rain: *placing a hand on Dews head* when I snap, I won’t kill you. I’ll just add you to the collection ~

Phantom: Who stole my German dungeon porn?!

Aurora: *standing beside Mountain* your face might be too high for me to reach but your knees aren’t.

+Bonus Papas

Copia: BITCH THATS MY GOOD EYE!

Terzo: You FILTHY WHORE! Let me put the baby down and then tell me everything

Secondo: ….bold words for someone within biting distance….

Primo: Hey finally! *points at a Texas longhorn* Something more horny than Terzo!

Nihil: UNHAND MY THIN MINTS YOU THOT!

[erizumon]

When Heinz is Happy

The park wasn't one of your favorite places to be, too many people, too much noise, kids running around here and there (you don't dislike them, but they distracted you a lot from your own thoughts)

But there were days where everything was better, demons don't torment you, the sensations of a phantom pain that never went away in your prosthetics weren't bothersome today.

So, it would be expected that you would take this perfect day to create some plan, maybe you could even take advantage of the presence of your nemesis to invite him to lunch, that makes the day better.

But you don't want to do that.

You're at peace.

Like you've never been before.

You're not even surprised when you feel someone sitting with you on the park bench, you didn't need to look out of the corner of your eye to know that your silent companion was none other than Perry the Platypus, who seemed curious at how calm you seemed to be this morning.

“Sometimes I wonder if Francis will stop being suspicious of me when I’m doing nothing”

Perry shrugs, but gives you a light smile, you were already used to this anyway.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I brought Vanessa to this park?” you ask, as you stare straight ahead, an answer wasn’t needed, it was never needed between the two of you “I was five, we weren’t that close to here at the time and Charlene had insisted that it was time for my pumpkin to meet other kids” as she told the story, she pulled out of the pockets of her white coat some candy, passing Perry the ones with mint and sweet tea flavor.

You could hear Perry hum in appreciation, glad to remember that these were especially her favorites.

“I was against it, but Charlene insisted I was too overprotective,” you pause and laugh. “And yes, I was.”

You see Perry raise an eyebrow, you snort at him.

“Okay, okay, yeah, yeah, I still am, shut your eyes.”

You see him snort to hold back a silent laugh.

“Whatever,” you resume. “The thing was, Charlene couldn’t do it, so she asked me to bring her instead. I didn’t work, I stayed home, so I didn’t really have any excuses, and it’s not like I refused to take care of my baby, I just--… You know, I didn’t feel comfortable exposing her to the outside.”

You watch the kids play, the ghost of a memory taking on a life of its own, and you could perfectly see the first-time dad holding his daughter tightly. You smile, too afraid to take the first step.

Too hurt to allow his daughter to carry those same wounds.

“And then, she just took over the place, ran and joined the first group she saw and that's when I knew, Perry the Platypus, that my Vanessa was going to be okay”

That she always would be…

You feel a hand on your shoulder, which makes you turn around and you can see the sweet smile that she doesn't usually give you very often, but you treasure with all your heart, you smile back.

And she decides to accompany you in her silence to see the landscape.

But something changed, because Perry takes off his hat and without understanding how at first, he manages to put the hat away somewhere, if it weren't because you know beforehand that Perry the Platypus didn't move from his place, you wouldn't have been able to recognize him.

The hand that was previously holding your shoulder is now free of the watch that he always carried with him, today, he wouldn't be Perry the Platypus.

He would be Perry, just Perry.

They look into each other's eyes and Perry extends one of his hands, palm open, a simple invitation, but with a lot of weight behind it.

You accept.

They get up from the bench and walk through the park, holding hands, as if it were something natural that they've been doing all their lives and maybe, that could be true in other lives. You don't know, but you don't need to investigate too much. Then you talk, about everything that comes to mind.

You breathe, today is a good day.

And nothing will change that.

[iamthecomet]

momMEEEETTT

period cramps are killing me and all I can think about is phantom/aeon/new bug being a pretty pretty inexperienced boy

like... there was that prompt list... and there was this one "show me how you do when you touch yourself" THAT IS LITERALLY HAUNTING ME, CAN YOU IMAGINE A VERY VERY KIND DOM RAIN WITH A VERY VERY SUB AND SHY AEON IN THAT SITUATION???

*disappears into the void*

-🪻

OhmanohMAN. You gave me brain rot and I wrote a little thing.

Aeon's pretty like this. A lilac flush blooms high on his cheeks. He keeps his eyes--a strange spidering mix of lavender and sage green--on Rain's feet. They're lounging on Rain's bed. A summer thunderstorm rages outside. Wind rattling the windows. Rain can still taste Aeon on his tongue--ozone and mint. One of his cool hands is still pressed on Rain's bare chest, over his heart. Rain watches those fingers flex against his skin. Aeon drags his bottom lip into his mouth and makes a small noise when he does--like he can still taste Rain on it--like he's savoring. Rain can't take his eyes off of him. "Talk to me," Rain demands. His voice is soft, but there's no question about his tone--no room for argument or denial. "Never done this before," Aeon finally offers up, his blush darkens. "Not...with someone else. Not in this body." Rain reaches over, cups Aeon's face in one of his hand, thumb dragging over his lips. They part so prettily for him. And Rain can think of nothing else except pushing past them, pressing his thumb, his fingers, his cock, through them and into the warmth of his mouth. Another time. "We don't have to do anything." Rain would be just as happy to go back to making out. To pull Aeon into his lap and kiss him for the rest of the night. It's enough. And he opens his mouth to tell Aeon as much but Aeon cuts him off. "I want to. I just--" Aeon shrugs. "I don't know what to do." "Oh, baby," Rain says, slipping his hand a little further up to sink his fingers into Aeon's hair. He drags his nails over his scalp and Aeon's eyes flutter, a soft little groan falling from his plush lips. "I can help with that." Aeon is melts in Rain's hands. Allows himself to be arranged however Rain wants him. He follows all of Rain's orders with ease. There's a shyness about it that shouldn't make Rain's cock kick as hard as it does. But he's well past trying to hide how this is affecting him. He's straining against his sweatpants by the time Aeon settles between his legs. The small of his back pressed right up against Rain's leaking cock. Rain presses his chin to the top of Aeon's head, right between his horns and looks down the length of his body. The pale flush has crawled down his neck to his chest now, staining his clavicle a pale purple. Aeon's hard too, pressed up against his dark sweatpants. When Rain shifts, grinding his erection against Aeon's back, Rain watches Aeon's cock kick. "Show me," Rain whispers. Turning his head to drag his mouth up the side of one of Aeon's short horns. Aeon shudders in his arms. Rain plants one of his hands on Aeon's stomach and feels each shudder of his breath. Feels the way the muscles jump beneath his hand. "Show you what?" "How you touch yourself." Aeon whines. Rain watches his fists clench down by his side, that blush crawls further down, almost to his pebbled nipples now. "Rain--" "How else am I supposed to know how you like it?" Aeon doesn't respond to that. Instead, he reaches down with shaking hands and pulls the waistband of his sweatpants down just far enough to free his cock, hooking his briefs under his balls. It's pretty, just like the rest of Aeon. Flushed violet at the tip and shiny with pre. Not very long--Rain could probably take all of him in his mouth without any trouble. Rain aches to touch him. To curl his fingers around that soft overheated skin and see what kind of noises he can wring out of the little ghoul in his arms. Aeon hesitates for just as second before he wraps his hand around the base of his cock and squeezes.

"Are you nervous?" Rain asks him softly. Aeon nods. He flexes his fingers again and Rain feels the way his body sags into the stimulation. "You don't have to do this. If you don't want to," Rain reminds him. Pressing small kisses up the length of his horn. "Want to," Aeon chokes out. Aeon starts slow, long languid strokes. Rain grinds his hips up against Aeon's back in time with his thrusts. He watches, rapt, as Aeon strokes himself. A bead of pre wells at the tip and Rain longs to taste it. He almost runs his fingers through it. Just barely manages to keep his hands to himself. It isn't long before Aeon is fucking his own loose fist. The ruddy head disappearing and reappearing as Rain watches rapt. Pre spilling over Aeon's fingers as he gets close. Rain can feel the tremors in Aeon's thighs, the tension building in his body. "Rain--gonna--I gotta--" "I know. Go ahead, baby. Let me see." Rain drags his tongue over the rough base of Aeon's horn and Aeon is gone. Wailing as he cums all over his own fist, milky white dripping down onto his stomach as he works himself through it. He sags against Rain. Wiping his sticky hand off on his own sweatpants and not bothering to pull them back up quite yet. Rain presses a kiss to the top of his head, humming his approval. Aeon shifts, pressing back just enough to put much needed pressure against Rain's aching cock. Rain groans, fingers digging into Aeon's stomach just above the pool of cum gathering below his belly button. "Will you show me what you like?" Aeon asks softly, cheek still over warm against Rain's collarbone. Rain grins against Aeon's hair. "Of course. And if you're good, I might even let you touch it."

[sonicblueartist]

Mansion Full Of Foxes

Warnings: MDNI, smut, mention of sex, cursing, etc. Everyone is adult here so don't worry!

This is a preview chapter

Masterlist

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: Yes || No

Pairings: All Tailses from every universe is here for us~ Here is a list for who is into who (Of course we gave every each of them a nickname, to not get confuse anyone... I'm still trying to get used to them too so...)

A/n: Does anyone want to be in the tag list?

@ctheathy

Banzai (Secret History Tails)

Kitsu (Miles [WWMH])

Foxie (Miles [Operation Crimson])

Lunar (Tails [Tails’ Dark Diary])

Umber (Anti-Miles)

Hollow (Hologram Tails [The Ankh])

In between:

Sails

Citrus (Tails [There's something about Knuckles])

Knight (Blacksmith)

Ashen (Tails.exe)

Suave (Starved Tails)

Phantom (Inner Tails)

Zaddy/Bubba (Ali Baba)

Hero (Tailsop)

Wolfy (Tails-Zilla)

Kukla/Pop (Tails Doll)

Chaos (Metal Tails)

Maviş (Luther)

Goblin (Tails [Tails Gets Trolled])

Brownie (Tails [AOSTH])

Cub (Zails)

@kaylas-world-0

Tails

Mangey

Nine

Mint (Prime Tails)

Honey (Movie Tails)

Cherry (Boom Tails)

They/them // She/her // He/him // Other

Summery; It's mating season for foxes. Let's see what's going to happen in a house/mansion full of foxes that have issues and conflicts 👀

Word Count: 3055

A/N: This is kind of like a smut fic so... My friend and I made this for fun. We gonna use ocs so beware! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT JUST LEAVE

Have Fun!

"You've got issues that I like"

Kayla reached for two cups. She picks up the milk and pours it in.

"Okay, Mangey. Watch carefully. Because you can't keep dropping the cups and licking them from the table! This is how you need to drink."

She grabs her cup and sits on a chair and carefully shows him how to drink it. Mangey watches her gulp it all down, fully focused and head down on the table.

She gently put the cup on the table, "See? It's easy. Now you try."

She reached the other cub towards him. He grabs it and starts licking it from inside.

She blink, "Eh, That's an improvement at least." She scratches behind his ear and watches him purr happily.

"You did good!" His tails sways happily, he threw himself off of his seat and jumped on her. Licking all over her face.

"Hey! Hey! Stop it! Mangeyy!" She whines.

"Kayla?" She stopped pushing him and glanced towards the door, Nine stood raising an eyebrow. Mangey continued snuggling on her neck.

She grins nervously, "H-hi, Nine. You want something?"

Nine' face was serious, "Did you forget what I told you a few hours ago?"

She perks up, "Oh, right! You guys wanted to talk to us about something! I'm so sorry it completely--"

"It's fine. Just come to Tails' workshop." He turns away and walks off.

She raised an eyebrow at this, "Okay, Mangey let's go." She easily lifts him in her arms and starts to carry him towards the workshop.

She finds everyone in there waiting for her.

Her sister perked up seeing her figure.

"Sorry for being late…." She apologies sheepishly.

Tails smiled gently at her, "That's fine Kayla."

She gently puts Mangey down on his feet and he quickly snuggles on her legs.

"He's been awfully clingy today. I mean he was always clingy but…"

Tails cleared his throat, "Actually that's what we wanted to talk to you two about." Glancing away.

She raises an eyebrow and glances at her sister. She shrugged, signaling she had no idea either.

The two turn to Tails carefully listening.

"Uh, okay. We're all ears." He takes a deep breath, glancing anywhere but the two, "Well, you see… Nature has some laws. The most natural thing is to be born, grow up and eventually die--"

She panicked, "Mangey is dying?!" She gripped him tightly in tears.

Tails stuttered, "What?! No! No one is dying!"

"O-oh…"

Ctheathy could feel certain sky blue eyes staring bullets at their presence. And she had felt slightly nervous under the amount of pressure their surroundings had given them, especially after having been ripped from the other fox’ comforting embrace. She had always enjoyed thinking of hugging the others, it felt as a small yet safe way to connect with each other, and though she'd been pushed away on several occasions. Deep down, she secretly hoped that it could comfort them right the same way. She listened closely to what the others had to say as she kept herself quiet, always having been a teensy tiny bit too shy to speak up for her own. Though she certainly wasn't one to miss out on any responses that seem to have held deep emotion in them, so when Kayla had cried out her words, she immediately got her attention back to her gaze.

She snuck up to her and caressed her shoulder to try and ease her worry. Seeming how she had quite the panic over the idea of the darling fox losing his life. She flinched slightly at this, her eyes meeting her own blue ones, but they quickly softened after realizing what she was trying to do, muttering out a “thank you” as Tails continued with slight worry lingering in his tone.

He awkwardly squirmed in his position, seeming to think about how to continue his speech as he bit his tongue slightly in response to his overwhelm. “Ah, w-well-!” he started, a nervous sweat going down his forehead as both of the humans eyes connected onto his own again. He fiddled slightly with his hands, not being all too positive in his wording as he started letting out a few “um’s”. The room was starting to grow awfully quiet and the air grew a tension, a few mutters and perhaps even muffled cursing could be heard throughout the place.

Ctheathy and Kayla looked at each other in confusion, having no clue what to expect. But their thoughts quickly got interrupted as a “Just tell them already-!!” rang through the room, coming from Lunar as his already thin patience was starting to run out. A huff came from Umber as he crossed his arms, the other foxes standing beside them seeming to run low on patience as well. Whispering was starting to get noticeable around the place and Tails let out a small sigh, seeming to have decided upon his talk. They had to know. He looked us dead in the eye and his own narrowed slightly.

“Kayla, Ctheathy, do you both um … Are you aware of some of nature's essential proceedings considering our species?” He spoke with careful words, almost as if the humans were incredibly delicate and fragile to the topic. They both currently had no clue what the hell was going on, and their expressions had said everything. Kayla just blinked with an expressionless look on her face, and Ctheathy just tilted her head slightly, as they both seemingly had no idea what he was referring to. Yes, nature has it's natural common events, but we just couldn't put the puzzle pieces together with what this had to do with the meetup.

Feeling real dumb right about now, Ctheathy let out a small sigh she didn't know she had been holding, and had decided upon speaking for the first time in a while. She carefully spoke, not wanting to upset him, “I’m afraid we're not sure what you're asking…”

Kayla glances at Tails with a face she is trying to process what he just asked.

Noticing this with Ctheathy pointing out their physical confusion he nodded, sighing.

Tails leaves all his over thinking behind. He needs to let it out for them. They need to be notified about this.

He inhales deeply getting ready for his speech, "Look, nature has it's rules. Birth, growing up, death and such… I wanted to talk about birth here so… You probably know what partners have to do if they want kids, right? N-never mind forget what they have to do! W-what I mean is, we mobians are divided into various types as you know. So… we as foxes like other mobians have a natural clock… but in different time from others of course. And well it's like a clock that when it ticks midnight like in Cinderella, poof, our hormones are--" he stopped himself when he saw the confusion on humans faces as well as the weirded out expressions from the other foxes. He noticed how awkward the tension became.

Fuck, he messed up his speech! He practiced for a few days for this!

He panicked and reddened, "I-I mean--" his voice became small.

Nine groaned loudly, "It's mating season for us damn it!!"

Tails flushed yelled at him, "We talked about this Nine! We're not going to show that fact to their faces like that!!"

Nine rolled his eyes, "I rather die than listen to your awkward speech again. This was less painful and easy to do."

Tails grumbled in vain, "I started pretty good what happened? That's not an excuse to traumatize them like that! You can't just say stuff like that and be okay with it! They needed to warm up on this first! Why are you so cool with this?"

Sails stepped in, "I think ye confuse them enough."

Everyone's eyes turned towards the only humans in this household waiting for a reaction.

After processing the conflict between them Kayla holds her mouth to prevent herself from chuckling, for some reason their fight comes to her funny with the weird topic at hand... But this is a serious matter, she bit her cheek.

"Wait wait…" she gasps, "Are you guys for real? I thought- I thought it wasn't possible." She muttered to herself.

Nine tilted his head, "It is as real as we are. And it's as normal as you two having periods. Nature is full of weird biological shits." He rolled his eyes.

Ctheathy got lost in her thoughts for a little while after that rollercoaster of emotions. She's heard of mating seasons before, but she had little to no knowledge on it's effects other than stronger hormones, much less the changes in behavior or consequences it might have for them. And these thoughts alone already left her worried, the worst possible scenarios going through her head as she kept herself quiet, just staring at the floor underneath their feet. She didn't know what on earth to think about this information, the way it had been described didn't seem pleasant in the slightest, and though she felt interested and wanted to ask further, she was mainly anxious for the foxes’ wellbeing during the described time.

The stares felt as if they were pushing her into the ground, awaiting an answer from the both of them. Her sister had already given her own response to the new said information, quick, even. But Ctheathy had no idea where to even start, so many questions…

She decided to go for a show of concern, wanting to show her worry for the events, “You… You've described the occurrences as if they're incredibly difficult to go through for yourselves and those around you. Could you elaborate…maybe?” She merely whispered at the end, the topic hadn't seemed preferable for any of them to talk about and she had honestly already felt guilty for questioning any further. But she felt as if they had to know just in case it could cause potential danger or any other little traits we'd have to keep in mind. Kayla nodded in response at this, seemingly wanting the knowledge herself too.

Tails merely sighed once again, still seeming to be somewhat stiff from previous events, “Well… What do you expect? Our hormones and senses shall be increased and going through a rampage during that time--” Tails seemed to already shiver at the thought, and Nine stepped in after the realization set in that he wasn't going to continue any further, “And we're gonna be expecting you two to defend yourselves-!” Though it sounded more like a demand more than anything, they knew he had good intentions behind the request. But his worries worsened their paranoia ever so slightly.

“As they restrict self-restraints too” Sails added, looking us in the eye and showing concern for them.

Ctheathy and Kayla weren't sure if they were supposed to freak out by these warnings, they must be rather brutal for it to affect them this deeply, but this certainly wasn't what they expected when they got called in here. And seeing their worrisome expressions, Citrus decided to step in with a more gentle approach.

“Ah… What we are trying to say is that the safety of the both of you means a lot to us. We wanted to put down some strict rules in order to prevent anything from happening” which some of the other’s nodded at.

Ctheathy's racing thoughts calmed a little at this, and she was thankful for them even bothering to ensure their safety, but with this a sudden realization suddenly set into her mind and she stood up, worried. “H-hold on a second there-! But does this imply these events can cause all of you any… potential pain?” sadness was visible in her eyes… She didn't want to see them hurt for an entire month.

Many just looked away slightly, awkward even, which was slowly starting to confirm her fears as she narrowed her eyes in response and looked down. But she flinched as she felt a hand on her shoulder, looking up for her eyes to meet Banzai’s. How didn't she notice him sneaking up to her? Their eyes stayed connected with one another as his soothing voice tried to ease her mind, but it was hard.

“Do not concern your minds over these circumstances, my dears. There's other things that are of prime concern” and the others let out sounds of agreement, seeming to have spoken of this with each other before. Huh, guess communication is possible in this household, after all.

Kayla thought about all the things they said until Banzai stepped in. To say the least she was confused was an understatement...

"Other prime concerns-- Like what?"

She glanced at him when Nine answered, "Like your safeties. It had to be our first and only property."

Kayla shook her head at this, crossing her arms, refusing, "No way! If you guys are hurting! Then it is also important! We are going to help. Like you guys help us go through our periods."

Her sister nodded agreeing with her, "Is there any way we could help you guys with?" She asked gently and as worried as her.

The room went awfully quiet.

The humans stared at them waiting for a response.

"Well?" Kayla urged them to speak. Every one of them seemed at the edge.

Tails cleared his throat, "Well… you see… uh… There is a way…. but uh… it's- no, it's uh…. not what you think…. it's not the same with period cramps… You gotta reveal it… somehow… well…" he tried but failed.

Lunar rolled his eyes with a groan, "It's sex, we need sex."

Tails flushed, "That's not-- Be quiet! it's not exactly--"

Lunar huffed, done with their shit, "Exactly what? We need sex to reveal this! That's it! Just accept this already! We need sex so we can reproduce. This is nature. This is how the world revolves. It's normal. It's an urge! Couples always have sex! Either to have fun or not. There is no need to make sex look abnormal!--"

Foxie groaned, holding the bridge of his nose, "Will you please stop emphasizing it?!"

Kayla and Ctheathy stared at them all as they started arguing over this.

Ctheathy could feel her face starting to burn up after the sudden outburst. She was currently questioning herself how she hadn't figured things out and gotten the hint before that and she could clearly see Kayla’s cheeks having gained a reddish tint as well, but it was nothing in comparison to her entire face.

She bit her lip and shook her head, trying to decrease some of the warmth as she had noticed them creating the start of a fight… Again. She could feel her ears starting to tingle as the noises around them worsened, the arguments starting to become an issue for the both of them as her sibling covered her ears in the exact same irritation.

Things continued for a little while, the place had started to feel suffocating and she knew she had to do something, otherwise there was a massive chance of certain bad outcomes. Her sister noticed her trouble and quickly went for her arm, giving it a small squeeze to try and comfort her in response. Ctheathy looked down from her standing position and gave a gentle smile, being incredibly grateful for her attempts to ease her mind. But she knew this fight had to be put to an end anytime soon.

Everyone freezed for a second with a noise lighting up in the room. They all glanced at the side as Hollow walked in. He freezed seeing everyone in a tight atmosphere. He stared for a second until he slowly backed away and walked out of the room, “You guys can fuck yourselves I am going. I just woke up damn it. This is too early in the morning for this.”

All the foxes quickly continued their heated argument like nothing even disturbed it.

“Everyone, please… Quiet down-! Fighting won't get us anywhere…” Ctheathy’s voice was starting to turn light, nervousness getting to her head once again as they either ignored or hadn't noticed her pleas. “We won't solve anything if we keep yelling at one another…” her quest still hadn't been heard, as the rambling continued alongside the room, it having become even louder over time, the space felt tight… Too tight “guys…!” She started once again, but she forced her eyes shut after realizing her attempts were unsuccessful, the loudness getting to her and her sister had certainly noticed.

“EVERYBODY, SHUT IT-!!” Glaring at the group, she stood up and let out a huff that made very much sure that everybody was currently listening to what she had to say, as the amber coloured foxes’ eyes turned their way in response. It had always surprised Ctheathy how easily she was able to get each and every single one of them in line, she envied it even.

Kayla turned to her with kind intent and gave her a smile “Go ahead, Ctheathy”.

She muttered a small “thank you” and straightened her back to try and seem to have more control over the situation, but it definitely hadn't felt that way. She gulped, all eyes being glued onto her form by now as she felt her anxieties double. “I’m sorry for causing this conflict-! I should have understood the hint, but please do understand that arguing won't help us with anything.” She tried being as gentle as possible with her words, not wanting to set them off. “Besides, ahah… There are still a few questions I'd preferably have answered just in case, you know-- boundaries and all-! I really wouldn't want to worsen the state all of you will be in just because I made the wrong decision…” Her eyes turned to the floor once again, not very used to the attention and she felt her cheeks starting to flush once again. She heard a few sighs going through the room and she swore she could have seen the eye rolls if it wasn't for her eyes being glued onto the ground, but she appreciated how the fighting had at least taken a stop.

Tomorrow will be the first day of Mating season as we were told. Most of them decided to close themself in their room and hunt for food and water for themself from markets beforehand. And some of them decided to stay in the workshop to work and busy their minds. And some of them didn't care at all and were gonna continue their daily activities like nothing changed.

Kayla and Ctheathy decided to sit and drink some tea in the garden while watching the stars revolve around them as everyone was inside minding their business.

Kayla spoke up, "We should talk about what we can do for them. I mean obviously we are not gonna… sleep with any of them so…" she muttered.

Ctheathy agreed, "Yes. We're gonna show extra care for them. Making food, leaving nice notes and such."

Kayla hummed, "Yeah… they would appreciate that…"

They continue observing silently.

"Damn."

"What?" Ctheathy asked curiously.

Kayla sighed, scratching her cheek, "I guess… I'm a little scared for tomorrow. I mean they already started acting really weird. I-I'm afraid I can't handle it without giving in……" 

Ctheathy reassured her, patting her hand, “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every minute of it. I won’t let them do anything to you.”

"This is gonna be a long month…" Kayla whined.

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iii (pt. 1)

too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

here’s part one of two! lots of heavy stuff in this part and some more character background, but we do get to see some romance begin to blossom. im excited to share, but even more excited for you guys to read the next part. thanks for being amazing, i love you guys 🤍

April 22, 2022

The morning was violent, so much so that it managed to pull you from a slumber fit for the dead. As you rolled over on your couch, your journal tumbled from your stomach and landed on the floor with a thump that echoed through the entire room. The large panel windows with rotted sills glistened under the blazing sunlight, too bright and warm for you to withstand. You squeezed your eyes shut again to block out the rays, but instead of blackness, the usual void seemed red with the light beaming directly on your face. You withdrew a long breath, rubbing your face in your hands to pull yourself out of the claws of exhaustion. After a moment, you managed to invigorate yourself enough to sit up straight, but it came with ample consequences.

Your body ached so desperately that it felt like your bones had twisted and morphed into something new, and your throat scratched with dryness every time you tried to swallow. Your head pounded with every breath and only ever worsened as you moved. There was a kink in your neck that you could not massage out if you tried, and your stomach was twisted with upset. You woke up the same every morning, like you were still in active addiction and your body was craving the substance with a fervor. It was a phantom pain that passed not long after you started your day, but while it existed, it was incredibly difficult to get through. No matter how long you had been sober for, you awoke every morning with the incessant urge to fall back into old habits.

That specific morning it seemed so much worse than others, and you feared that if you had even the slightest lapse in willpower, you would end up on the bathroom floor submitting to an entity so sinister that it would ruin your life all over again.

So, instead of taking the risk, you checked your phone to see what time it was. When the white letters splayed ten o’clock, you knew you could rush to the old AA hall they had donated to the druggies when the state funded a new building and catch the morning meeting. If you were lucky enough, you could make it in time to grab one or two of the stale muffins from the day prior and save some money on groceries. You noticed the pen that had once sat atop the journal (that had once sat atop you) had fallen onto the torn cushions of the couch and was now stabbing into your side. With a huff of frustration, you tossed it to the floor, where it struck the old vinyl tile and rocketed under one of the other pieces of furniture.

You stood, feeling woozy from the illness plaguing you and seemingly eating away at your insides. With a vow to ignore it, you trudged to the bathroom to comb your hair and brush your teeth. The intense mint from the toothpaste was aggravating your already sick stomach, and you fought back a gag as you struggled through the basic task. You washed your face, hoping the cold water would distract you, but the sting of the frigid liquid on your tired skin only annoyed you further. In a poor mood, you forced yourself through the rest of your routine and ran to your bedroom. You changed into a pair of jeans that once belonged to your oldest brother, and a sweater that belonged to your youngest brother. To top it off, you threw on a fleece lined plaid jacket to keep out the harsh wind, noticing yet another rip in the already worn out fabric.

You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from the counter on the way out the door, tying your boots in the hallway after deciding that tripping over laces would be the (theoretical) straw that broke the camel's back. You broke out into the bitter air, the smell of city smog filling your lungs and the nip of morning frost biting at your cheeks. You shoved your headphones into your ear, pressing play on a playlist that had been ringing through your living room all night long. With a brief check over your shoulder, you hopped to the other side of the street and began walking down the winding side road in hopes of finding a Hail Mary.

After a seemingly treacherous journey, you trudged up the wooden steps that were nearly rotten all the way through. You clasped your fingers around the large metal handle and pulled the oak door open, the creaks echoing through the barren entryway. You stepped inside, your mind still swimming with relentless thoughts and your cheeks blushed with chill. You slipped your headphones into the pocket of your hoodie and moved further inside, surveying the room before going any further. The old building was once a church, and when it was abandoned, the state took it over and rebranded it for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Back then, it went hand in hand with the motto, as most that turned vile due to their addictions believed themselves to be devout Christian’s. Some believed it was blasphemous to use such a building for people who had disgraced the name of god, and others thought it to be perfectly fitting. Either way, God did not have a hand in what happened in the building, nor was he worthy of credit for the recovery of the people.

When the government decided AA was worthy of a better building, they still failed to recognize addicts as people deserving of recovery (or help, even), and left the old building for anyone to do as they pleased with. For a little while, it was home to a small family of homeless people, and only once the city grew sick of them did they decide an NA program was worthwhile. State ‘funded’ and utterly disappointing, they held meetings twice a day that were led by a single member of the mental health board (and not even an addictions expert, at that) and were mostly self-guided. As much as the program lacked, you still found it comforting to sort through your issues with fellow addicts who also fucked up their lives beyond repair. That, and it was the only intervention that was consistently accessible, and free.

You hated knowing that your recovery was based off a paycheck, and that bettering yourself as a person was dependent upon affordability, yet you knew this to be reality. Treatment programs were expensive, and the only one you had ever been to had left you with a debt you would never shake off your shoulders. From then, you knew you had to be in charge of your recovery, and that started with improving your willpower to stay sober. You could not afford anything more than self-help journals, and with every backslide, you understood that medical bills were piling higher and higher. Sobriety was the only option, because if not, poverty was the punishment. Unfortunately, poverty was a breeding ground for mental illness (which you already suffered enough of), and mental illness was a slippery slope that lead you straight back to square one.

Complaining about NA would not get you any further ahead, so you often had to swallow your distaste and appreciate it for what it was. At least there was some type of intervention, even if it was lousy. Without it, you would have nothing but yourself, and you had come to realize that was one thing you could not solely rely on, as you were a nothing shy of a trained professional in bad decisions and fucking up.

You noticed the circle of fold out chairs, half filled with zombie-like shapes that only passed as people on a good day. Today, as it seemed, was not a good day. Most of the attendees were forced to be there by parole regulations, and others only came for a warm place to sit for an hour. Some, like yourself, wanted help, but most cared about the free food more. As you approached the group, you made a stop at the table with the coffee canister and expired creamer, pouring yourself two cups to sip away at while you spilled your guts. Thankfully, there were plenty of muffins left, and when nobody was looking, you managed to slip a few in your large pockets (which was the exact reason you wore that specific jacket).

As you took a seat, you surveyed for any familiar faces. There was an older women, frail looking with mousy blonde hair and sad eyes. Her name was Carol, and she was the most frequent attendee of all of the meetings. Even so, you knew her to be a woman who was sober, but nowhere near recovered. She’d been through the twelve step program a hundred times, yet never seemed to harness all that she’d learned. She was tired, sorrowful and a little timid, yet had a fiery side that matched the devil. She often talked about her mistakes like they were small blips, yet did not seem to comprehend that even if they were unavoidable, they had consequences that were detrimental to her and her family. More specifically, it affected her children, in which she mentioned their no-contact order at least once a meeting.

You felt bad for her, but not enough to extend a helping hand. She was a great example of ‘reap what you sow’ and she reminded you too much of your own mother to ignore it. Every time you began to feel some shred of sympathy, you would think of her four kids who suffered at the hands of her own lack of self control. She knew nothing about accountability, and was in so much denial that she was blaming the no contact order on the children who filed it, rather than the woman who caused it. She would never recover unless she understood the implications of her actions, and that she caused all that happened, even if she felt powerless at the time. She could abstain from using drugs until her last breath, yet she would never escape the addict mentality.

The coordinator, Liam, was by the windows organizing his meeting checklist. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you were certain that when he did, a smart comment would be casted in your direction. He was in his mid-thirties, and he wasn’t the worst person in the world to share a piece of your soul with. If anything, over the months of going to meetings, you had actually grown quite fond of him. He was a trained mental health professional, and even if his specialty was not addiction, he still cared enough to dedicate his time to helping others. You were certain that he was not paid well for his two hours a day, and he was working it atop his other job. There was a part of him that loved the charity, and as a true councillor should, cared about helping people more than anything else.

As you sipped at your coffee, Liam approached the group with his head still nestled in his clipboard. As more people trudged in, he looked up to smile as they situated themselves, and that’s when his eyes landed on you. There was a sparkle of something you could not place your finger on, and it made you bite back a laugh. He stepped in your direction, tapping his pen against the cork material of the board as he thought of a snarky remark. “You lose your calendar?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not Wednesday.”

“No, it’s not. Astute observation, smartass.” You replied, smirking at him. The one good thing about NA was him, and the fact that you felt like you could be yourself around him. He was not a bible thumper, nor was he a hardass; he was a person who knew struggle, taking time to help other people with their struggle. He understood that you were a barely-adult who dealt with your pain with humour, especially after watching you interact with Dylan and Vincent, and he used it to his advantage. Every now and again, he had to crack the whip to ensure you weren’t using humour to deflect, but most of the time, he agreed that it was a good coping mechanism.

“You just missed me so much, huh?” He sighed, tapping the end of his pen against the board, now. It send a dull yet steady sound through the immediate air, and it was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for your already migraine-ridden brain.

“Hardly,” you muttered, taking another long gulp of coffee while hoping it would ease the pain in your skull. “Figured if I had to choose between you and the detox box, I’d pick you.”

“Smart choice.” He complimented. “Where’s your company?”

“You really think they’d come to a non-mandated meeting? Are you insane?”

“Some would say so.” He shrugged. “Proud of you for choosing sobriety, y/n.”

“Oh, fuck off with your sentimental bullshit.” You grumbled, but couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings. If there was one thing you loved, it was being told that someone was proud of you. Of course, you were never willing to show your appreciation for the fact, but you definitely held the words close. “You better get started before Carol starts crying or Joey falls asleep.” You said, nodding your head in the direction of the two sitting side by side. Joey seemed as if he was nodding off, and Carol was already weepy-eyed.

“Right, it’s about that time.” He sighed, nodding curtly. “Alright, everyone! Come grab a seat so we can get started!” His voice echoed through the mostly empty room, bouncing off the walls peeling of their paint. The large windows sent flutters of golden light through the room, illuminating the specs of dust in the air. When you looked above the pointed window tops, you could see the shadow of a cross that remained stained to the wallpaper even long after it was removed. The grime of the building ensured that the memory would remain indefinitely. As Liam walked towards his chair at the head of the circle, the small heels of his dress shoes clacked against the rickety floorboards. When he sat, the legs of the plastic foldout chair scraped against the already scuffed panels. It was underwhelming in its entirety, yet you found it oddly comforting.

As the bodies pooled into the chairs, leaving ample spaces between themselves as they sat down, you crossed your legs and pulled the frumpy jacket closer to your body. The building was drafty, shifting and groaning under every strong gust of wind and threatening to give out under the pressure. You picked at the threads of loose skin around your fingernails, awaiting Liam’s routine meeting opener.

“Good morning, everyone.” He spoke, his voice echoing throughout the whole room. He was cheerful, but not overly, and he was excited to get his part over with so he could sit back and observe. “As some of you know, Friday’s are completely open discussion days, just the same as Monday. If this isn’t your cup of tea and you’d like to check out the speaker meetings where I guide you through the steps of recovery, you can stop by from Tuesday to Thursday. I’m here at the same time every day, 11am and 2pm, so if you require another session outside of your normal attendance schedule, you know where to find me.” There were a few mutters of agreement from the crowd, but most of them had their eyes on the clock, waiting for the hour to finish despite it only just getting started.

“Are there any newcomers in the crowd today?” The question was mandated, even if he already knew the answer. He recognized you all from the minute you stepped in; the whole crowd was familiar with each other now. “Right, okay.” He nodded, jotting something down on his clipboard. “As always, remember that if you run into any issues outside of the normal meeting times, we always implore you to give a call to the friends you’ve made here. There’s a list of numbers available by the door for anyone who has volunteered to be a sponsor. Remember—“

“Dial it, don’t file it.” The whole group chanted back to him before he could speak. The mantra was drilled so deeply into your brain that you were sure you muttered it in your sleep. He gave a tight lipped smile, understanding the redundancy of his words.

Open speaker meetings were your favorite. You did not find much solace in Liam droning on for a half an hour, as his personal experience with addiction was nonexistent. It was a comfort to tell your story and have it touch others, and it was nice when you could hear the struggles of other people. It made you feel less alone, and it felt less clinical. When Liam took up an hour of your time, yapping away about resilience and self awareness, it was difficult not to fall asleep in your chair. You chose Wednesday’s as your regular days when you learned it was Vincent and Dylan’s scheduled day, but not for many other reasons. Sometimes, it was nice to hear advice and encouragement, but in the long run, it did not hold much value to you. You opted to go to plenty of meetings outside of your normal time, just so you could get all of the benefits of it.

“Remember to stick around after the meeting so we can hand out chips or tags, whichever you prefer. If you brought your white chip with you today, we can upgrade you to silver.” He gave a smile, as if handing in a surrender token was a victory and a 24-hour token was a milestone. You were certain that everyone around you had a million silver and white tokens littered across their homes, yet it never seemed to stick. You knew that for you, at least, a silver token was a punch in the gut rather than a pat on the back. “So, if there’s no questions, we can get started.” He said, surveying the crowd for a raised hand or an interested eye. When he was met with nothing, he gave a slow nod, crossing his legs and taking in a long breath. “Would anyone like to start us off?”

The silence was so abundant that you could hear the honking of horns from the road. You waited for the chirp of crickets, but you knew that the building was filled with too much asbestos to house any living creature, insects included. Spiders on the other hand had seemed to grow resilience when it came to the toxicity of the environment, which only made them superhuman in comparison to their former self. You could see a few dangling from cobwebs in the corners of the room.

“I’ll go,” you said, speaking up only when the silence grew unbearable. “If nobody else wants to, I can start.”

“Sure,” Liam nodded, smiling at your willingness to proceed. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, making yourself wonder why you had actually shown up on that solemn Friday morning. What had been so troublesome that you rushed out your front door the minute you woke up so you could attend a meeting?

That was a loaded question, one that likely had a million answers, but you settled on the thoughts that felt most pressing to you.

“I often hear the same sentiment when I talk about my addictions. I get the same sad smiles and sympathetic eyes, the ones that tell me that I’m more fucked up then even I can comprehend. I can see the refrain in their faces, like they want to run and hide. I get that it’s hard to understand something when you’ve never experienced it, but sometimes it makes me wonder how it’s so easy to dehumanize people who’ve gone through or are currently facing struggle.” You didn’t stop speaking for a reaction, but rather to gather your many thoughts before speaking them aloud. It seemed as though you were in more of a talking mood than you previously thought, because now that you had begun, you felt no inclination to stop.

“When someone grieves, we do not go out of our way to alienate them from us. When someone gets in an accident, we parade around with bouquets of flowers and well wishes. When alcoholics drink themselves to the point of no return, we put them on a transplant list for a new liver and hand out brochures on how to live a sober life. Why is it when someone learns that I’m an addict, I am denounced to nothing but a thief and a criminal? What makes my struggle different? What makes me less worthy of help?” You posed the question to the crowd, not expecting a real answer. “All of the aforementioned reasons are worthy of sympathy and compassion, but it makes me question why my struggle is not. Why, even when I walk into an Alcoholics Anonymous hall and speak my troubles aloud, they look at me as if I’m evil, as if their addiction is better than mine? The superiority complex of an addict who deems their addiction more digestible than my own makes my skin crawl, yet I see it every day.”

“I’ve been an addict since I was born, even if I didn’t touch drugs until I was a teenager. The addiction was engraved in my brain since conception—no matter active or not, I will always have the symptoms of the disease. It was shown to me first by my father, who was willing to abandon his three children in search of a high. I learned the rest of it from my mother, who was the highest functioning alcoholic I have ever met.” You paused, forcing your thoughts away from the face of your mother, which only ever seem to enrage you.

“When I was three, I was addicted to apple juice. I used to scream and cry and kick my feet until I was red in the face and my lungs started to ache. As soon as they placed that Disney Princess sippy-cup in my hands, it was like they shot me with a fucking tranquilizer dart. Two hours later, it started all over again. When I was seven, it was marshmallows. When I was eleven, it was that stupid fucking ‘Peggle’ game on my brothers Xbox. When I turned thirteen, I drank alcohol with my best friend for the first time. We stole it from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank so much we threw up for two whole days.” You explained, leaning forward in your chair and looking towards the floor.

“Even as I spilled my guts over that toilet and spent forty eight hours in misery, I knew that apple juice had nothing on alcohol, and it had given me more satisfaction than anything ever had. On my fifteenth birthday, all of my friends were out of town, so I thought I’d have my own fun at home alone, and hopefully drown out the sound of my mother terrorizing my brothers in the living room.” You explained, giving an empty smile. “I looked through my mothers pill cabinet, pulling out bottles and typing names into my phone to find out what it would do for me. I went back to my bedroom with three little white pills in my hand, locking the door behind me and sealing my fate for the rest of eternity.” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment. “That night, I discovered that OxyContin was far more effective than ‘Peggle’, and from there, I became the worst version of myself.” You heard a few hums of agreement around the room, unable to look up at the sad eyes staring at you. You knew that they hated seeing someone so young face the evil fangs of opiates, but no matter if they were sympathetic or not, you were still hurting over it just the same. Silence became you and you were unsure if talking was making it better, or hurting you more.

“My point is,” you continued, feeling your courage begin to return. “I didn’t wake up on my fifteenth birthday and decide to be an addict. I didn’t decide to be an addict every time I used after that, because it was never a choice. If you have bipolar disorder, it was in your brain long before you ever showed symptoms. If you have cancer, half of your insides are rotten before they catch it. I had an addiction long before I ever touched drugs, and I’ll have an addiction until the day I die. It does not make me lesser than anyone else, and it doesn’t make me a bad person. I had shit luck and poor genes, and I’ll suffer for the rest of my life, but my suffering does not make me a bad person, and it does not make me any different than another person walking down those streets. I’m not inherently evil because of it; I’m just someone who’s made mistakes, trying to atone for them. I’m still that little girl crying for apple juice, or that pre-teen begging my brother to play a game. The only difference is, I’ve had a taste of something far more powerful and much more lethal. I’m tired of being painted the villain, because it was the substance that turned me bad. I hurt people, and I hurt myself, but every day I wake up and choose to be different. It does not take away from what I have already done, but it does change to who I will be. That is the difference between a good person and a bad person, not the demons they’re fighting against.”

“I’m an addict, and I know I will be an addict until the day I die. I was born that way, but I made the conscious decision to use, and I will be stuck repenting for that until my last breath. I can’t sit before you and tell you I regret my decisions, because those were some of the best days of my life. I don’t regret it, even if it was a mistake. It was the best thing I have ever felt. I wake up every day still craving the high, wondering if it’s easier to just give in and let go. I spend every waking minute chasing that feeling, and even if I know I can never have it again, it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It’s a constant struggle, a reminder of my own mistakes that I’m still trying to run away from, and it’s torture. At the same time, I came here today because I’ve been stuck wondering if it’s possible to change, to not be this person anymore.”

“I want to be good, to love life without being dependent on substance, but I worry that it’s not possible. I want to breathe without restraint, and I want to live without chains constantly holding me down. When I think about how hard it is to stay sober, I try to remember how hard it is to be an addict, and sometimes not even that can scare me away. I want to go back to the days where ‘Peggle’ and marshmallows could make me feel the same way. I’m trying to be something I’m not, and I’m afraid it’s not ever possible to be what I want. Will I be seventy years old and happy that I stayed sober, or will I be in that rocking chair looking back at my life, surrounded by grandchildren yet still remembering what it felt like to swallow that pill? Worse than that, I worry that seventy will never be in my hands, and I’ll die of the sickness before I can ever see it.” You paused, realizing that you were taking up far too much time. You blinked hard, bringing yourself back to reality and settling back in your chair. You looked to the water stained ceilings with tears pricking your dry eyes, wondering how the hell you got yourself here.

“Sobriety has been my best friend and my worst enemy, and I came here today because it’s my enemy. I know what I need to do, but today just it doesn’t seem possible. For now, I’m here. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and try again, because that’s all I can do. When it feels impossible, I just keep telling myself that it’s for the best. I'm no stranger to starting from zero, so what the hell is one more try, right?” A slow round of applause echoed around the room. You fought back an eye roll, knowing that all that you had said was not worthy of a celebration. It was a ugly thing, a eulogy to your former self, and sobriety had never been something you were proud of. It was a struggle, and it was something you could never seem to commit to. Trying again was your area of expertise because of how good you were at fucking up, and you did not feel right celebrating a temporary victory while the hardest battle was still looming just overhead.

“I can speak for everyone when I say that we’re incredibly happy that you decided to come here today.” Liam said, sending you a smile from across the circle. You forced one back, unable to hold his gaze for very long. “You’re not starting over again, y/n, you’re just starting to try harder.”

“Right,” you nodded, tracing the scarred stick-and-poke tattoo that was already fading away from the back of your hand. It did not feel like you were trying harder. If anything, it felt like you were closer to giving up.

If you had a shred of self awareness, you would have been able to see that because of that fact alone, you were trying harder than you ever had.

As Liam opened the floor for another poor soul, you thought over all you had said in your confessional. You wondered why you were feeling all of those things so strongly, and why they seemed to be worse today even in comparison to the days you spent sweating and shaking on a bathroom floor. Then, you remembered Vincent’s harsh words thrown your way the night prior, feeling yourself ache from the memory as if he was standing in front of you saying it all over again.

Vincent was your best friend, the one constant you had since packing your entire life up and moving across the country. He knew everything about you, held you at your worst and shared the happiest days. You cared so deeply about him, and definitely in a way stronger than friends, but you so badly wished you didn’t. Him knowing you so well made it easy for him to hurt you, and despite all the good he had and could still do, he consistently proved to you that he did not want to do good by you. He knew you so well, but it was the very reason why he had so much power to hurt you. Vincent wanted to love, but he did not know how. His feelings were fragile just as well as his ego, and he did not understand a thing about change. He was stuck in his way, never willing to see a different side of things, and because of that, it drove the two of you apart. The night prior, when he’d been so crude and unapologetic about his feelings about you and Danny, he wanted to hurt you in the same way he was hurting.

Lucky for him, he did just that, and even more so. He wanted to hurt, and hurt he did. It was so bad that you found yourself seeking comfort from strangers in an NA hall. It was so bad that it made you want to turn to drugs to take the ache away.

What he said stuck with you, and not just because he was the one who said it. Of course it hurt that he would say such terrible things to you, but you had grown used to Vincent taking his anger out on you in the form of harsh words and insults. Most of the time, you could brush it off after a while of sulking, but it hung over your head because you were terrified he was right. You liked Danny for many reasons, one being that he was nothing like Vincent. That being said, he was also nothing like you.

He did not know what it was like growing up with parents like yours, nor what it was like to spend most of his adolescence in and out of rehabilitation programs and therapy. He did not understand what it felt like to be at the police department, filing yet another missing persons report for his father, or better yet, getting detained for a night but unable to be held due to age. He did not know what it was like to run away from home every other weekend because sleeping under a park bench seemed more appealing than sharing a space with his mother. More than anything, he did not understand what it was like for drugs to take precedence over every other thing in his life. You certainly didn’t take him as such, and you were sure that by now, you would have seen some inkling that he was like you. You wanted to find anything that could relate to your tragic life, but there was nothing.

You looked back on all of your conversations, wondering if maybe you missed something he said, but it all aligned perfectly with Vincent’s venomous words. He played golf, specifically with his dad, he was traveling the world with his best friends to find ‘inspiration’ without needing to find a part time job in every city, and he confided in you once on a Sunday evening that he missed his mom.

Danny did not know what life was like for you, nor would he ever, even if he tried. Your struggle was completely foreign to him, and although he seemed like someone with a big heart and the desire to understand and sympathize with everyone he came across, you feared that once he knew all of you, he would run with no intention of ever coming back. You couldn’t blame him, because your baggage was too heavy for even yourself at times, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It was a terrible feeling to have, knowing that no matter how much you like someone, you can never be completely transparent and honest with them about yourself. You would never expect him to accept the tragedies that accompanied you, and you felt foolish for thinking that you could have a relationship with someone so normal while you were so far from it.

You wanted him to be the one to take you away from such things, but you feared the tragedy ran so deep that you would be the one to bring him down with you.

Of course Vincent would be the one to point out your flaws and ruin a good thing before it happened.

Then again, you could not blame him, because you were equally as good at fucking things up.

You liked Danny too much to cut him off entirely, so you decided to continue on with the texting and calling, and even the laughing until 4am and the harmless flirting. You would cut it off when the time was right, just so you didn’t fall too hard for him. You knew it was best, because he was too good to get caught up in you. He was someone you could have fun with, to distract you while you built yourself back up. He would leave eventually anyway, and you would never have to think about it again. Your skies were much too dark for a rainbow, and now that you were thinking of it, you weren’t sure they had ever seen anything as bright as him. This way, you could enjoy him for the time being, but you wouldn’t get your heart broken when he decided you were too much for him. It was a win-win for both of you.

Even if you chose to believe such things, you failed to see that you had already gotten your heart broken at the idea of being too broken. Your current situation made you believe all of the previous notions even more deeply, because you had not even faced rejection at Danny’s hands and you were already sitting in a talk circle listening to people drone on about their love of smack and resentment towards their family for keeping them away from it. You were fragile enough that you’d hurt your own feelings with feeble ideas and assumptions, and you were so weak that it nearly killed your ambition to stay sober. Most of all, you were selfish for wanting to subject Danny to such things at all.

That was one habit you could not kick when you got sober; you were a selfish being who loved to feel good, and now that you could not get high, you had to search for thrills elsewhere. Danny made you feel good, and so good that you could not fathom giving that up even if it was better for everyone to do so.

The meeting wrapped up later than usual, mostly due to Carol’s inconsolable crying as she blubbered on about her youngest daughter's wedding and how her invitation got ‘lost in the mail’. You bit your tongue, knowing that correcting her assumptions about the situation would do no good and would only get you a scolding from Liam (and those were the worst). You made sure your phone and your cigarettes were in your pocket before standing, feeling the muffins bounce against your leg. As if on cue, your stomach growled at the memory of the double chocolate treat that was wrapped in plastic, awaiting your attention. Liam instructed everyone to stop by before they left, to which only some of the attendees obliged to. Despite your growing stomach and desire to leave, you complied with the request and approached him before making your departure.

You were the first in line to speak with him, but it did not come as a surprise; usually you were the only one willing to see him once the hour was up. He still had his clipboard in his hand, his pen hovering over the paper as he searched for your name and crossed it off. “You’ve got a thing for apple juice,” he noted, looking up over the frames of his (seemingly expensive) glasses.

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

“You talk about apple juice at every meeting. Is that code for something else, or do you really just like it that much?” Now, you laughed, finding his inquiry less invasive and much more amusing.

“Not code,” you shook your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “I just really like it. When I was a kid, it was the only type of juice my mom would let me drink. Guess it reminds me of easier times, or maybe I still wish apple juice was the only addiction I had to worry about. I don’t really drink it anymore because I worry that I’m trading a drug addiction for an apple juice addiction. In my head, neither are good.” You theorized, looking towards the ground for a moment.

“I see,” he chuckled, reaching over and grabbing his bag and pulling out a red key tag. He handed it to you, smiling at the sight. “Three months as of tomorrow. I feel like I can trust you enough to give it to you a day early. Some motivation to get through the weekend.”

“Right,” you nodded, forcing a smile as you reached for it. “Maybe it would mean more if it was my first time.” You couldn’t help but feel some resentment at the sight. It was your second time getting a red key tag, and it lost all of its novelty once you had to give up the blue tag that signified six months. You almost had your hands on a yellow one, but you fell just shy of nine months after one particularly reckless night at the Pony. You’d had an arrangement of surrender and thirty day markers, but they were less catastrophic to lose when you started over again. Knowing you had nearly a year under your belt just to throw it all away made you sick to your stomach.

“You have to celebrate the little victories, y/n. You can’t always feel like you’re failing, because you’ll never have any motivation to get better.” He said, giving you a stern look.

“But it doesn’t really get better, Liam. It doesn’t matter if I have three months or three years, I’ll still be an addict and I’ll still want it just the same.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “Recovery is just a bandage to keep yourself together. The longer this goes on, the more I feel like I’ll actually be seventy and still feel this way.”

“It’s easier to see when you’re further away from it. Right now, it’s all you know, but that doesn’t mean it will always be all that you know. Life grows around you, but you have to choose if you want to grow with it, or get lost in it.” He explained. You took the tag, shoving it in your pocket. You knew he was right, but it was easier to feel miserable than it was to be hopeful. It felt better when misery was proven wrong rather than when hopefulness was crushed. “You’re doing better than you think. You have three months under your belt. It doesn’t matter that it’s for a second time, it matters that you did it. Some people don’t even get there once.”

“I know.” You cleared your throat, fighting the tears rising in your throat. “Thanks, Liam. I’ll see you next week.” You said, finally looking to meet his eyes.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching back into his bag. You watched for a moment, wondering what he was searching for. Then, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he pulled out a bottle from his bag. You looked to the ceiling, feeling your face burn and tears rush to your eyes. “I brought it for lunch, but now I think I brought it for a much different reason. You need it more than I do.”

“Liam, I can’t take that.” You shook your head, still looking at the peeling paint at the top of the walls.

“I insist.” He said, using a tone of finality. After a few seconds, you took a deep breath and looked towards him once again. Once you saw the certainty in his eyes, you reached out and took the bottle of apple juice from him with gratitude written all over your face. “Sometimes things are just as simple as apple juice, y/n, not the big complicated mess that you try and turn everything into. It’s not a metaphor, and you’re not trading apples for oranges. It’s a bottle of juice that’s going to make you feel better, and it’s something that won’t hurt you unless you make it into something bigger. You can enjoy it and not have to feel bad about it, just like you’re allowed to fuck up and still believe that you can do better.” He explained, giving you a smile. “You’re in control, whether that means getting high or drinking juice. You decide whether you should or not. Today, you decided to come here instead of getting high, and right now, you’re deciding to drink juice. You’re capable of doing better and being better, because you already have. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Your right,” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “Thank you, Liam.”

“No need for thanks.” He brushed you off, straightening up in his seat. “You have a number to call if you need it this weekend, right?”

“I do.”

“And you’ll use it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I will.” You nodded. He did too, happy with your answer.

“Okay. I’ll see you next week.” He gave you permission to leave, happy that he seemed to have helped. You were a tough nut to crack, between your raging self-destructive attitude and your inability to see the positive side of things, but he was happy to be the one to finally make the difference.

You walked out the front door (sipping on apple juice, thanks to Liam), finding that the air had warmed since you had gone inside. The sun was brighter and the wind was less intense, making your spirits brighten as it gave you a promise of summer. You reached into your pocket to grab a cigarette, finding your chest had loosened from its earlier tension and your migraine begin to subside. As you pulled out your pack, you grumbled at the lightness of it. When you flipped the top open, revealing one last cigarette (upside down for luck, of course), you closed your eyes as you tried not to let the disappointment consume you. You wondered if you had enough money to buy another, hating yourself and the world for having to choose between paying rent or buying the only thing that was keeping you sane.

As you reached for your phone to check your account balance, the screen lit up to show the time. It was already well past twelve thirty, yet that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention. Below the bold numbers was a missed call, which was followed by an incoming text only a few moments later.

“Fuck!” You exploded, uncaring of the passerby’s giving you strange looks.

The addiction had been so pertinent that it allowed you to forget about your anticipated plans with the incredibly cute and sweet boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You dialed the number back, pressing the phone to your ear. Within seconds he answered, his cheery tone warming your heart immediately. “Utah! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Was worried you forgot about me.”

“I’m so sorry Danny,” you sighed, looking around at the people passing you by. “I, uh… I had an appointment I forgot about.”

“That’s okay. How long are you gonna be? Or do you just want to call it off and reschedule?” His understanding was astounding, but it did not make you feel better; it was gut wrenching, and it made it so much harder to keep your heart out of things. Danny seemed fun, sure, but he also seemed like someone you could easily fall in love with. You were playing very a dangerous game.

“No, I’m all good now.” You promised. “If you still want to hang, of course.” The morning has thrown you so violently off course that you were doubting everything, including his interest in your despite him being the one who called first.

“F’course I do.” He chuckled. “I called, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you forced a chuckle, having to agree with him.

“You okay, Utah?” He asked, now seeming a bit concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You assured him. “Was just a rough morning is all, I’m okay now.”

“Hopefully I can make the rest of the day better, then.” He replied, sympathizing with your rough start to the day. He had no idea, but hearing his voice alone had already brightened your spirits. “We’re just driving around. We’re near the Fox if you want me to pick you up, or we can meet somewhere if that’s easier for you.”

“If I send you an address, you think you can find it?” You smirked, knowing he was in unfamiliar territory. You remembered how disoriented you felt when you first came to New York, wondering if he felt the same, or if he was one of those people who didn’t worry about anything at all.

“I’m sure the two of us could figure it out.”

“Whatever you say, Michigan.” You grinned. “See you in a few.”

“Can’t wait.” He said, sincerity laced within his tone.

With that, you ended the call and proceeded to check your bank account, happy to see you had more than you thought. You looked around, checking for cars before jumping off the front porch of the old church and crossing the street. As you cut through an old alleyway, you texted Danny the name of the gas station you were headed to, knowing you would be there before him. There was no way in hell you were going to let him pick you up from an NA hall on your first ‘date’.

Of course, you had little hope that it would be a real date at all, nor did you think that any date like activities would ensue afterwards. They were probably just looking for something to pass the time, and you served as a great tour guide.

As you walked through an old parking lot after the alley, you could already see the old sign for the store. You waited to cross the busy street, and when you saw a break in traffic, you sprinted to the other side. By doing so, it seemed like you instantly left the rough part of the neighbourhood. Fancy cars drove by and women in expensive clothes walked in and out of the convenience store. All the same, you felt immediately out of place.

Tired and still not feeling the best, you tossed the empty apple juice bottle in the garbage, pushing through the door and walking inside. It was moderately busy, but not enough to be bothersome to you. Before running to the register to grab a pack of cigarettes, you walked towards the back of the store where the candy aisle was located. Without much effort, you found the biggest bag of Warheads sour candy that you could see. After that, you turned towards the drink coolers and grabbed the cheapest energy drink. Satisfied with your choices, you walked to the register and placed the items on the counter. The older lady who was working gave you a long look, studying you as she rang in the items.

“Pack of reds?” She asked, already reaching towards the cabinet before you answered.

“How’d you know?” You chuckled, knowing that every few days you came in for the exact same thing.

“Think you’re the only one who buys these.” She said, looking over the bag of sour candy. “Have no idea how you can stand eating them.” She chuckled, watching as you tapped your card against the reader.

“They’re not half bad.” You smiled, waving her off as she tried to hand you the receipt. In truth, you didn’t love them. You had grown to tolerate most sour foods as it was an easy way to curb the craving for the things you could not have. The sourness was a shock, immediately distracting you from the relentless thoughts, and the sugar gave a nice dopamine rush that made you feel better for a few moments. You repeated the process until your tongue was in too much pain to have another, and by then, you were over the worst of the craving. “Have a good day!” You called over your shoulder as you walked out the door, not hanging around for long enough to hear an answer.

As the door shut behind you, you grabbed the last cigarette from your pack and struck the lighter. As the flame ignited the tip, you heard a commotion off to the side of the store where the bulk of the parking lot was. You turned, curious about the sound, but you were not stuck wondering about it for very long. As you focused your eyes under the blazing sun, your gaze fixated on a Jeep, but it was not the vehicle that kept your attention. Instead, it was the curly haired boy hanging his head out the window with a blinding smile on his lips. You could not help but smile back as he waved you over, uncaring about hiding his excitement to see you.

“Long time no see, Utah.” He greeted you as you walked within earshot. “Told you I could find my way around New York.”

“Seems like it.” You chuckled, taking a drag from your cigarette. Without any further comment, he opened the car door and stepped outside with you. “I’m glad you found me. Saves me from sending a search party out for you.”

“You really had such little faith in me?” He raised an eyebrow, his sunglasses sadly blocking your view of his pretty brown eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause you proved me wrong.” You grinned, already feeling the hurt in your chest begin to subside. When you were in his company, it was hard to feel sad about anything. He was so easygoing and excited about life that it was difficult to feel any differently than him. Then, he reached forward and pulled you into a hug, which made your stomach twist and your heart flutter. What would normally be an awkward moment, felt nothing like it. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it was right. You wrapped your arm around him, making sure to keep your cigarette away from his expensive looking jacket so you did not burn it.

The small gesture made all of your fears obsolete; he wanted to be with you, to hang out and waste the day with you. He was disappointed at the idea of cancelling plans, and overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you. He was genuine, and he was nothing like Vincent was trying to portray him as. You didn’t have to feel stupid for liking him so much in such a short time, because he felt the same way.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel, Utah. Been looking forward to seeing you all morning.”

“Me, too.” You breathed. “I’m sorry I forgot about the appointment. Promise I wasn’t trying to blow you off.” You explained, still trying to hold on to the lingering scent of his cologne as he let go.

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.” He confessed, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. “We still have a few hours before you have to get to work. I’m sure there’s lots we can do by then.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “So what about this Sam guy I’ve been hearing all about? Is he imaginary?” You said, looking to the front seat to see nobody else in the car.

“That’s me,” You jumped in surprise when a head popped out from the backseat. A smiling face stuck between the two front seats let you know that Sam was in fact real. The tint on the windows allowed for him to stay concealed, but it did not answer any questions about why he was sitting in the backseat. Then, a second head popped out from between the seats, but this one was much cuter than the two boys combined. “And this is Rosie. Hope you like dogs.” Sam grinned, reaching up and wrapping an arm around her.

“Hi,” you laughed, unable to keep a straight face at the sight. “And I definitely do. No need to worry about that.”

“She is pretty, Daniel. You were right.” At that, your cheeks turned red, but not nearly as badly as Danny’s did.

“I should have left him at home.” Danny muttered, shaking his head at his friend.

“No worries,” you said, reaching out and landing a soft hand on his arm. “Good to know you think I’m pretty.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious enough.” He said, looking down at your hand on his arm for a moment, then back up at your face. The two of you shared a glance for a moment, wondering how it seemed so easy between you despite you barely knowing each other. You wanted more, to know him and to spend every afternoon making jokes and laughing. You wanted to kiss him, and you had since the very first time you laid eyes on him. He seemed like he wanted it too, yet the both of you remained frozen in place, neither one of you having enough courage to move first. “So, you have any ideas for what we can do today?” He changed the topic, too nervous to continue staring.

“Depends on what kind of day you want to have.” You said, only mildly disappointed at the change of subject. You knew that kissing him right now in that moment was not the wisest idea, especially with his best friend observing the both of you so closely. Plus, you feared that if you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, you would only be doing so in hopes of covering up all of the misery from the morning. If you were to kiss him, you wanted to be certain it was for the right reason. “There’s a park not too far from here. It’s a super nice spot, not too many people go. I’m sure Rosie would love it.” You said, motioning to the dog that was clinging to Sam’s side. “Or there’s a few shops a few streets over. I think they’re all pet friendly. I see lots of people in an out of there with loads of different pets.”

“We can do both if you want.” Danny offered, looking inside the vehicle momentarily to see if Sam was in agreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking the last drag from your cigarette and tossing the butt into a nearby puddle. The snow was long gone now, replaced with rain as dampness lingered on the ground to remind you of the winter. You were excited for warmer weather, and the sun in the sky seemed to be promising of a nice day.

“Hop in, Utah.” Danny nodded his head towards his car, but quickly second guessed his choice. He took a step in your direction, but walked past you and to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door for you. You followed after him, sheepishly climbing into the vehicle after muttering a small thanks. Within seconds, he was back in the drivers side, smiling over at you. “You just tell me where to go and I’ll drive.” As he spoke, Rose seemed to be fighting with Sam to try and get to the front seat, intrigued at your presence and excited to get to know you.

You sat the bag of candy down beside your leg on the seat, then placed the energy drink in the empty cup holder. You slid your lighter in your pocket and shifted around to get a better look at the dog that seemed so eager to greet you. “Hi, baby.” You reached out cautiously, not wanting to scare her. She sniffed your hands for a moment, which quickly turned to licking, then she shoved her head into your hands so you would pet her. As you scratched behind her ear, Sam seemed to be laughing at the two of you.

“She likes you… We’re gonna have to keep you around.” Sam deducted, his hand still resting on her back. You noticed he was holding the back of her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t proceed any further than she already had.

“I guess so.” You chuckled.

“Is that… breakfast?” Danny asked, stifling a laugh as he looked down at the bag of candy and the beverage you had purchased. He’d been trying to hold the question back, but it seemed too pressing to ignore. You looked down at the items he was referring to, feeling a small blush dust across your cheeks.

“So what if it is?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite feeling defensive over the fact. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you for a moment. You reached down, tearing the bag open and grabbing one of the candies. You extended your arm towards him with a stupid smile on your lips. “Want one?” He watched you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were being serious. His gaze flickered to your hand and eventually, he reached out to grab it.

“Do you want something to eat? You know, other than caffeine and cigarettes?” He offered, a smirk stuck on his lips.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching into one of your large coat pockets. You pulled out one of the wrapped muffins, flashing him a smile. “That’s what this is for.”

“You really came prepared, then. I can appreciate that.” He laughed, not sure if he was willing to accept you having only a muffin for breakfast. Then again, he didn’t necessarily feel like it was his place to say anything, even if he wished he could.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You chuckled. “If you cut through the parking lot and go down that little side street,” you paused, pointing in the direction of the street that was just barely visible. “And you drive down the road for a while, there’s this cute little antique shop that I think is pretty cool.” You explained, sitting back in the comfortable seat. It was way better than the leather seats in Vincent’s old car, but you neglected that thought. You shouldn’t have been thinking about Vincent at all. Instead, your focus should be on the boy sitting across from you, the very one you stayed up until sunrise writing about in your journal. The same one you had been texting until you were too tired to respond, and the one who infiltrated your dreams and put a smile on your face even during sleep.

You did not know Danny very well, but you knew him well enough to know that since meeting him, the world seemed a little bit brighter. The rain was less dreary and not even the bitter wind could bring you down. You were excited to wake up, happy even to foot the phone bill that was usually paid with a twenty dollar bill, because the new price meant that Danny had not grown tired of talking to you. You wrote in your journal until your fingers felt like they would fall off, and you had a growing collection of notes scribbled on scrap paper left on the dirty tables at the Fox. He gave you something to look forward to, and he gave you something to smile about. When you finished talking to him, you were not plagued with guilt or worry like you often were when you spoke with Vincent. You did not know Danny well, but you wanted to, and you were determined to. You made a pact with yourself to know him as well as you could by the end of the day, because you never wanted to stop learning about him.

And Sam now, too. You could not forget about him and his big personality sitting behind you just out of sight.

“To the cute little antique shop, then.” Danny said, smiling as he reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction you told him to. “So what makes this place so special?”

“What?” You chuckled, looking over at him.

“It’s gotta mean something to you if it’s the first place you thought of.”

‘Damn him and his observant self.’

“Yeah, I guess.” You nodded. “I go there a lot. Was one of the first places I found after I moved here. I bought a journal there my first day in the city, and I used it until there was no way I could fit anything else in it.” You explained. “They have lots of old paintings and household stuff, and a huge collection of records and books. They get most of their stuff from estate sales and the rest of it from people who were sick of looking at it.”

“Do you collect records or books?” He asked, curious about your hobbies other than writing.

“No,” you shook your head. “I have some books, but I write a lot more than I read, so I don’t really see a need to buy more than I’ll ever need. I love the records, and I would buy them if I had a record player. Been trying to save up for one, but it never seems to work out.” You smiled, looking over at him. It did not break your heart that you didn’t have a record player, mostly because it was a luxury, and you were used to never having anything luxurious. You were thankful for the roof over your head and food to eat, and unless those were taken away, complaining wasn’t something you were fond of.

“What records would you buy if you had a player?” Sam asked, piping in from the backseat. You took a moment to think about it, but eventually settled on the first ones that came to mind.

“Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan,” you said, confident in your answer. “I remember my grandfather playing over and over again until my grandmother was so fed up she turned it off herself.” You chuckled. “Harvest by Neil Young, too. He was a big fan of that one.”

“Good choices.” Sam commented, surprised by your answer.

“Can’t Buy a Thrill!” You exploded, unsure how you could forget such a monumental album.

“Steely Dan?” Danny looked over at you from the drivers seat, intrigued by your enthusiasm. There was a smile still lingering on his lips as you looked over at him, the sight nearly taking your breath away.

“The first time I heard ‘Dirty Work’, it changed my whole life. My brothers got so sick of it that they would pay me to turn it off. They’re not the brightest though, cause I made at least a hundred bucks off of them.” Both boys got a good chuckle out of the thought.

“Noted,” Danny said, switching between watching you and the road. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Two,” you replied. “Both older. Patrick is 26 now, and he works for some fancy tech company back home. Hunter is 25 and works at a construction company.”

“Are you close with them?” He continued to ask questions in hopes that he could know you better than anyone else. Knowing you was his top priority, much like how you wanted to know him.

“Not as much since I moved away from home, but yeah. Even when we were kids, we did everything together.” You explained, not wanting to dive too deep into it. You were close not by choice, but out of necessity. Your family was so fundamentally fucked up that relying on your siblings was the only way to survive. “You said you had a sister, right? You mentioned her the other night when we were talking.” He nodded at your words, happy that you remembered the small detail. Little did he know, you clung to every word that left his mouth. “Just her, or do you have more siblings?”

“Just her, but Sam is close enough.”

“Do you have siblings, Sam?”

“Three of ‘em.” He chuckled.

“So you were never bored growing up, I take it.”

“Never.” He confirmed, giving you a smile from the backseat.

“The store’s just up here on the left,” you told Danny, glancing over at him. You couldn’t help but admire him for a moment, finding that the sun was shining on him in the most perfect way. It illuminated his already glowing cheeks, shadowed by the curls of his hair hanging over his shoulders. The sunglasses sat atop his nose, but with the sun shining on the dark lenses, you could see him looking over at you, too.

Danny pulled into an available parking space that you pointed out, looking around the streets as people walked by. Many had leashed dogs and coffee cups in their hands. The scarves wrapped around their necks made it seem like it was colder than it was, and so did the expensive coats. You always felt slightly out of place when you visited the shops. They were decorated with people screaming with wealth. Leather handbags and clothing that had never experienced a tear or a stain. You knew you were from the poor part of town, your apartment complex falling apart and homeless people littering the sidewalks and alleyways by your home. The corner stores and bars were in just as bad shape as the Fox, and the skyscrapers stopped tickling the skyline about a mile out from the section of the city you called home.

You didn’t mind it, but you did fear that the other two would if you brought them by your place. You were always conscious of what others thought, even if you knew you shouldn’t care. It was much easier said than done, and even if you believed you weren’t doing that bad, you were doing quite poorly in comparison to the majority of the population. The discounted rate on rent from subsidized housing was the only reason you could afford your shitty apartment, and even if you had made it into a home, it was far from flashy. The entire building looked like it would give way under a strong wind, and the inside was only slightly better. You covered most of the holes and peeling paint with art, but it only went so far. The appliances were older than you, and the landlord had aesthetically fixed all of the major issues, but it did not help the structural integrity.

You always felt out of place when you were in a store, no matter fancy or not. You feared your card would decline every time, and you wondered if the few items in your refrigerator and cupboards would last you until next payday if you purchased anything extra. Most people tried not to pass judgement when they realized your economic status, but you could see it in their eyes. It was pity more than anything else, but you would be lying if you said it did not bother you. It killed you to think that Danny would look inwards at your life and feel the same things, but you knew it was a possibility. Unfortunately, as much as you wished it wasn’t, not only was it always a possibility, but a reality.

“You ready?” Danny asked, breaking your focus from your internal brooding.

“Yeah, f’course.” You nodded, pushing a smile on your lips. You got out first, stepping on the sidewalk and turning to face the vehicle as you waited for the other two to join you. Danny stepped out first while Sam made sure Rose was leashed properly. Not long after, the other two were walking happily to accompany you. You looked at the door, smiling as you saw the little sticker with the silhouette of a dog encased in a big green circle. “See, Rosie?” You grinned, looking down at her. At the sound of her name, her tail began to wag as her tongue hung happily out of the side of her mouth. “Told you they’d let you in.”

With that, Danny stepped towards the door, letting his hand fall on the small of your back. The gentle touch was barely noticeable, yet it turned your whole world upside down. Your stomach erupted into butterflies and your heart sped, and you began to question your own sanity. A man had never before made you feel so strongly from such a small action, especially an innocent one. You all stepped inside, taken by the scent of old books and oil paint. The store smelled the same every time, and when you got closer to the register, you could notice essential oils and brewed coffee. It was a comforting feeling when you stepped inside, familiar as if you had lived a thousand lives inside that store alone.

“I’m gonna check out the paintings.” Sam said, his eyes immediately catching on the fancy frames and landscapes encased inside.

“Sam’s a bit of an art whore.” Danny mumbled, turning his head down to look at you. He was standing closer than usual, definitely closer than he would at the dinner, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Aren’t we all?” You challenged, wishing he would move closer.

“True,” he nodded. “If you don’t like art, you’ve gotta be a pretty disappointing person.” You let out a laugh, abrupt and loud at the harsh words coming from such a sweet mouth.

“Right.” You nodded, wondering if it was possible to live in the moment forever. It was so simple with his hand on your back and a laugh stuck between your teeth. The world didn’t seem so terrible, and unlike how life normally felt, the small world the two of you were existing within seemed right. There was no fear of the unknown, no guilt or shame, and it didn’t feel forced. You felt like you’d spent 23 years of your life faking it, but with him, the connection felt real and not based on any external factors. It was simple attraction and nothing further than the fact that the two of you got along well. “Come with me,” you whispered, nodding your head in the direction of your favourite room in the entire shop.

The building was quite similar to that of a townhouse, and if you had to guess, you imagined it once was. They allocated the different rooms for each genre of items they sold. There was a record room, a room for books, home decor, and clothes that looked to be made decades ago. The main area had the register and was plastered with paintings and posters all waiting for someone to take them home, and miscellaneous items were displayed on tables within various rooms. Most of the things inside the store were much too expensive for you to even imagine buying, but every now and again you stumbled across a tiny treasure that you could afford to bring home with you. Sometimes, they heavily discounted things when they were getting ready to bring in new items, so you knew to keep your eye out for any advertising signs.

When you passed through the doorway, Danny was still close behind. He took a few moments to look around the room, taking it all in. After a while of shared silence, he let out a long exhale. “Wow.” He stated, unwilling to leave your side despite being eager to look around.

“It’s great, right?” You chuckled, taking in the shelves full of vinyl records. “I knew a music guy like you would have to appreciate it.”

“Music guy…” he trailed off, looking down at you for a moment. “You remembered?”

“Obviously.” You gave him a soft smile. “Drums, guitar, little bit of mandolin if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” he breathed, a bit surprised at how well you remembered his late night rambling.

“F’course I do.” You reiterated your point, cementing the notion in his brain. Instead of dwelling, you guided him towards the shelves holding the baskets of records. Absentmindedly, you began flipping through the vinyls, hoping he would, too. When he finally took your lead and began his own search, you spoke again. “M’sorry again about earlier. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to ditch you.”

“I actually didn’t think that at all.” He chuckled, taking his time as he read over the name of every album. “I mean, maybe for like a minute, but I honestly thought you slept in a bit longer than usual. I didn’t want to call you—was worried I would wake you.” He pulled one sleeve out above the rest, taking an interest for a moment before putting it back. “You seemed really tired when we were talking on the phone last night.” You froze as his words hit you, suddenly remembering the sleep-laced conversation and nervous butterflies that plagued your entire body. You remembered mumbling sentiments while your wrist wrote out the deepest desires of your heart on paper. Then, you remembered falling asleep, but not a goodbye.

“Did I… did I fall asleep on the phone?” You asked, looking over at him. Redness began to creep up on your cheeks as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, saying it as if the instance was completely normal. “Thought it was cute.” You bit down on the inside of your lip, praying that your face wasn’t giving away your feelings yet knowing it was. Then, the strangeness of the situation hit you and you could not hold back your inquiries.

“Speaking of… what the hell were you doing up at six in the morning?” You asked, turning the tables on him. He glanced over at you without turning his head, suspicious without even speaking. “Actually, you seem to be awake every morning when I get off work.” It was a question that crossed your mind more often than not, yet you never seemed to care to ask.

“Early riser.” He shrugged, hoping to avoid the topic entirely.

“Right…” you trailed off, less focused on the crumbling vinyl sleeves and more focused on the crimson of his cheeks. “See, that would be believable, but considering you were at the diner at one in the morning last night, I don’t think that’s the case.” You pressed further. “No way you’re so cheery for a man who only got four hours of sleep.”

“Okay, you caught me.” He sighed, pretending to be upset about your discovery. Truth was, he knew he would have to fess up sooner or later, and sooner seemed to be his only option. “I usually wake up for a little while to talk to you when you get home, and then I go back to sleep when you do.”

You were stunned at the thought, mostly because you could not comprehend someone wanting to talk to you so badly. The effort and thought that went into setting an alarm every morning at six was far beyond anything anyone else had ever done for you. You wanted to chastise him, but it was a bit too touching for you to make a joke out of it.

“You don’t have to do that, Danny.” You whispered, hoping he would look over at you so you could catch sight of the beautiful brown eyes you’d grown to love so much. “I love talking to you, but not if you’re losing sleep over it.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” He dismissed you. “Besides, I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”

For some strange reason, you wished he answered differently. Not because you wanted him to care less, but because you were terrified of him caring at all.

Everything you touched always seemed to turn to dust, and Danny was someone you could not fathom inflicting that fate upon.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” He said, taking your silence as something bad.

“No,” you shook your head. “No… I mean if you want to—if you’re okay with doing it, I definitely don’t mind.”

“Then it’s settled,” he hummed, switching to a different bin to search through. “They have some good stuff here.” He said, pulling out a blue coloured album. You glanced over, recognizing the sight immediately. A smile crossed your face as you watched him.

“Joni Mitchell.” You stated, craning your neck to get a better look.

“You know this album?” He asked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, stepping towards him. “My grandpa might have liked Dylan, but my grandma loved Joni Mitchell.” You were right behind him now, close enough that you could have placed a hand on him had you been courageous enough.

“You talk about your grandparents a lot.” He noted. “You close with them?” He could hear your breath hitch in your throat as he finished speaking, wondering if maybe he never should have spoken at all. After a moment, you recovered enough to answer.

“I was, yeah.” You cleared your throat, covering up the strain of the words. “I spent most of my time there, actually. My grandma was my best friend, and my grandpa was a close second. He passed away when I was fifteen, and she passed away not long before I moved here. If they were still around, i probably never would have moved at all.” He turned towards you, letting the record slide back to its original place. His hand landed delicately on your hip, but in no way did it appear romantic. Even if your face was stony, he could see the pain plaguing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Utah. I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I love talking about them, and I’m glad you asked.” You assured him. A small smile crossed his lips, stunned by your resilience to pain.

“I’d love to hear more about them, if you ever feel like talking.” His hand on your hip still remained, and the longer he touched you, the more comfortable it became. You never wanted him to stop. Suddenly, it all became a little too real for you. You blinked twice, bringing yourself back to reality as you turned back towards the record bins.

You wanted it, but you did not know how to let it happen. You were so good at making bad decisions that it seemed inherently bad to choose the right thing.

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, knowing that you never would. Then again, never is a strong word, and for some strange reason you had the impression that Danny was someone you could trust. Maybe someday, ‘never’ would turn out to be a distant memory.

You stepped towards another shelf, your eye catching a familiar cover. Carefully, you reached out, sliding it from the stack of records to get a better look. “Oh, wow.” You breathed, buzzing with excitement and nearly forgetting about the heavy conversation seconds before. “Look at this.” You said, catching Danny’s attention without breaking your stare from the vinyl.

He stepped up behind you, much closer than you were anticipating. Your back was nearly pressed against his chest and his hand lingered gently on your side. You knew he could see perfectly over your head; the height difference made it seem like he towered over you. He did so as an excuse to be close to you, and no other reason. You were okay with it, because for the few seconds you had stepped away from him, you’d already grown to miss the feeling.

“Bella Donna,” he said, studying the familiar sight. “Stevie Nicks fan?”

“Who isn’t?” You chuckled, turning it over to check the back of it. All of the records were secondhand, but it made them all the more special. Not only did they come with fantastic tracklists, but a story within every fraying edge and fading color. “She’s fantastic. She’s… everything.” Danny was silent for a moment, taking in your statement. When he finally answered, he wasn’t looking at the album, but rather at you.

“Yeah, she is.” The conviction in his tone made you pause your previous train of thought, turning to look at him as he gazed down upon you. It was evident that Stevie Nicks has long fled his train of thought. You didn’t have the courage to call him on it, so instead, you enjoyed the fleeting feeling of finally being important to someone. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and even when you could remember a time when you did, it felt nothing like it did then. You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, unable to comprehend how he seemed so perfect. Every word that left his mouth drew you in, every smile melted your heart, and every touch (albeit few and far between) took your breath away.

You were waiting for something to show, or to peek through the perfect exterior he’d put on for you. You longed for something to appear that could demolish the pedestal you had placed him upon, but it never seemed to come. You knew that with time, you were bound to find something that would taint your view of him, whether it be something major or a plethora of tiny things that steadily creeped up on you. Nobody could be without fault, and the fact that he’d gone so long without showing you any bad traits made you worry that when he did, it would be worse than anything you ever imagined.

Maybe that was your problem; you could not bear the thought of something going well for you, so you self-sabotaged by actively looking for something that would force you to run away.

Most of the time, there was nothing to find, and you were running from a monster created by your very own mind.

When you thought about it for too long, the more it seemed like running was the only thing you had ever known how to do.

You could not wrap your head around the idea of wanting to stay, but as Danny looked down at you with emotion stronger than lust in his eyes, you knew there was nothing else you would rather do. You wondered if running was always your first choice because nobody ever cared enough to give you a reason to stay. You’d known Danny for a short time, so short that he was nearly a stranger. You didn’t know his middle name, or his birthday, or even his favourite color. Despite that, you knew that the feeling of his company was something you’d searched for your entire life, and up until now, you’d only ever found it in one other thing. The difference was, you were confident in saying that the aftermath of Danny’s company was nothing like the aftermath of a good high. He seemed fulfilling, like his aura would surround you long after he left and the feeling in your heart would last even if he was not within reach.

If you weren’t so stubborn, you would have noticed that it had already affected you in such ways. When you stretched your wrist, it ached from all of the writing you had been doing in the early hours of the morning. When you woke that very morning with urges stronger than ever before, your first thought was to go to a meeting rather than submitting to the temptations of substance. You weren’t dreading waking up, nor were you struggling to sleep.

Danny did not fix your life for you, but he did make it easier to cope with. He could not fix problems he did not know existed, nor could he do so even if he knew your troubles. Instead, he allowed you to see a brighter side of life than what you’d grown so comfortable with. He helped you feel excitement for the next day and the possibilities it held. He gave you a person to talk to, making your nights much less lonely. He gave you the feeling of being wanted, and for nothing greater than the feeling of mutual want itself. He didn’t want to see you for ulterior motives, and he did not want anything more out of the interaction. He simply enjoyed your company, and it made you feel more human than you had since you were a child.

You’d been standing for so long in the same position that you feared you’d both turn to stone with your faces hovering inches apart. You did not want to suffer an eternity waiting to kiss, only for the moment to never come, but in that moment it appeared to be your destiny. He was leaned down slightly, and you were straining upwards, but there seemed to be a barrier between you two. The world was begging you to harness the courage to lean forward and close the gap, and as your noses brushed together, even the still-photograph of Stevie was pleading with you not to let cowardice win. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and your stomach was twisted in a knot that seemed to be suffocating you the longer you sat there.

He was so close, the scent of his cologne surrounding you once again, this time much more powerful than the last. You were angry that he wouldn’t make the move first, but appreciated his concern for your comfort. You’d fallen into the position so easily, as if it were natural for the two of you to be together in such a way. You could practically feel his lips on yours despite the distance still existing between you. Perhaps it was so easy to imagine because you wanted it so badly. He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek in his hand. The touch made your lungs burn, inherently causing you to forget how to breathe.

You had never felt so good. You had never felt so alive. You wondered, if his company felt so rewarding even after such a short period of time, what would months feel like with your heart and soul entangled in his. For once, the unknown was exciting rather than paralyzing. As gravity pulled you closer, you began to believe that you could live in the unknown with Danny until the end of time, and it would be inexplicably better than existing within the known without him by your side. He was so close, and it was hard not to jump. You wanted everything all at once, but savoring him seemed like the only option. His lips were nearly brushing against your own, and despite your earlier efforts at shoving the feelings away, you needed him to close the gap between you. You needed it like water, but you were so parched that you couldn’t speak the words nor go in search of it yourself.

You knew how foolish it was to leave your fate in the hands of another, but for once, not even your own psyche seemed to be able to ruin the moment for you.

part two is soon to be yours 🤍

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco

[inkykeiji]

Mint green with flawless Tomura

prompt: mint green series: flawless au warnings: reader likes mint chocolate chip ice cream, hints of a toxic relationship words: 510

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” you say, nose scrunching up. “My teeth hurt just looking at it.” 

“Don’t look at it, then,” he snaps, the lines of his lips dyed a syrupy cyan, confection liquified by the heat of his mouth. 

But you just can’t help it, the monstrosity on a sugared cone continually drawing your eye no matter how hard you try to ignore it, looming in your peripheral vision like some sort of Lovecraftian horror.

It’s three scoops tall, with funfetti birthday cake as it’s base, speckled with colourful sprinkles and ribbons of icing running through the vanilla cream, followed by bubblegum cotton candy, pink rippled with teal, and topped with cookie monster; a heaping scoop of blue ice cream, laden with chunks of cookie dough and topped with a slice of a chocolate chip cookie, stuck in the cream. 

It’s a cavity waiting to happen. It’s several cavities waiting to happen, and you wince reactively, features twisting in phantom pain, teeth stinging. His tongue slithers from between his gooey lips, slick muscle tainted some nightmarish colour, and curls vindictively around his ice cream, gathering a mountainous glob and chewing it, a responding hiss inhaled through your clenched teeth.  

“You’re just weak,” Tomura continues, eyes narrowed. “And I don’t know how you can eat that.”

Ruby eyes stare pointedly at the drops of mint green ice cream dribbling over your knuckles, the icy treat melting rapidly in the July sun. 

“It really isn’t that bad,” your tongue darts out to lick at the dollops of sugar smeared across your fingers, doing little in the way of cleaning it up, saliva watering it down to a translucent turquoise, sticky and shimmering, pooling in the gaps of your fingers. 

“It really is that bad, and I can’t believe I’m dating a psychopath.”

“A psychopath?”

“Only psychos eat mint chip ice cream,” he reasons simply, shrugging a shoulder. “No sane person enjoys mint in their chocolate.”

Bubbles of incredulous laughter barrel up your throat, warm and tingling as they pop on your tongue, and he joins in, chuckling, his gaze mollifying beneath your amusement. His teeth are stained blue from the artificial dye, giving his smile an almost uncanny characteristic to it, eerie and wolfish. 

“Oh? And is that a fact?”

“It is a fact,” he confirms. “Ask Kurogiri.” 

You can’t help but giggle again at how direly serious he is, as if Kurogiri truly is the end-all, be-all wealth of knowledge in this life, his information gospel, his words final. You suppose in Tomura’s world, he is.

It’s cute, in Tomura’s trademark endearingly entitled kind of way, that he’s so staunchly confident in his statements; so sure that he’s correct, so sure that his custodian would confirm the validity of his claims in an instant. 

“A sugar fiend and a psychopath,” you sigh wistfully, resting your head on his shoulder. “What a pair we make.” 

“Could be worse.”

“Worse? How?”

“We could both like mint chip.” 

“Oh, yeah. Then we’d be real menaces to society.” 

authors note: tomu definitely refuses to kiss you until you have, as he so eloquently put it, rid your mouth of that horrid mint flavour, shoving various different candies and sodas at you in a desperate attempt to eradicate the offensive taste. 

[annbourbon]

The Cheritzverse Society Through Art and Medicine.

*All these are facts. Not speculation. Although I do include some speculations, but tinted in pink. The rest it's canon and it's mentioned at some point during the games. Unfortunately due to limit of pics one can post in a single post, I won't be posting these as proof but I'll let you know where to find these.

♡ Carolyn works in several charities, usually art related. The Ssum. Henri and June route. She seems to control the society in Henri's route. Kind of like Mrs. Astor in Gilded Age lololol

♡ Rika created the RFA, and Mint Eye. Mint Eye was first. Another Story, Rika DLC, Christmas DLC, and The Ssum June's route.

♡ V pictures can be seen in Dandelion background. Dandelion and Mystic Messenger. The picture Zen shows to us during the first day, a flower growing up in middle of the adversity.

♡ An actor is mentioned to look similar to Jisoo during Dandelion, Zen. Dandelion.

♡ Zen has a role as Jisoo. Mystic Messenger.

♡ Henri's mom and Carolyn are said to be in the same circles and at the same time very different. Henri's family is more tied to medicine and June to arts.

♡ Harry's parents laundering money through art, and owning a gallery. Speculation: Harry will join Mint Eye or MC will disappear during Harry's route, probably his parents fault? (this would be off-game, putting Another Story close to Harry's route.)

♡ Heejung's an artist

♡ Jiwoo is a fashion designer in The Ssum

♡ Minha's family is big with donations. The Ssum. Minha's a gifted child.

♡ Jumin works with his father at C&R, his father personal doctor is Henri's father.

♡ Henri became some sort of caretaker for Elizabeth the 3rd despite hating on Jumin

�� June is mentioned to be the manager of the island Jumin Han received when he was 6 years old.

♡ K is also manager of the island. The Ssum.

♡ The island seems to be used by people for embezzlement among other things. Probably because Jumin almost never goes there.

(imho lol i do feel like a spy saying all this~)

♡ Elise family is part of this society too. I'm working around to understand better how are the connections working here.

♡ During June's route~ around Day 20 I believe? Jumin says that the RFA it's still a work in progress. This connects it and makes sense with the timeline I'm creating. Ah~ also, because I have nowhere else to put it right now. Next day, Carolyn says Jumin was to be engaged since he was little. I'm playing Jumin's route right now and somehow I don't think it makes sense to put him with Sarah. Carolyn can be a lot of thinks but she has standards lol although I'm also thinking if Glam parents could have been different from Glam and Sarah. And seeing how Glam was able to hide her true self in front of almost everyone, it's probably.... or perhaps they're talking about someone else?

♡ Teo, Harry and Zen have been working closely. The first two are directors. The second is an actor.

♡ Muse of Musical is not the only reference to The Muse. The Ssum. There's a reference in Mystic Messenger about the Muse being dead, I just can't find the pic. But there are at least 3 references. A different one from MoM is found during Teo's route, the others are inside Mystic Messenger. I need to replay Teo's and Harry for more info. I need to replay Mystic Messenger too. Because this is telling an interesting story through the titles. I believe one is how the muse is lost, the muse is dead, and more~ but i forgot the proper titles ╥﹏╥ sorry

♡ Several mentions to The Phantom of The Opera through Mystic Messenger that seem to tie The Angel character seen in The Ssum to Unknown/Saeran, Zen, V and Harry.

♡ Kind reminder for those who don't know, The Phantom of The Opera was also called Angel of Music by Christine.

♡ V mom was an artist. Mystic Messenger, Another Story.

♡ V is a photographer and by the end of his own route, decides to pursue art and become a painter. Mystic Messenger, Another Story.

♡ Speculation: Based in the fact that June does know V and Rika, June and V might bond through art. The Ssum.

♡ V father is usually overseas due to business. Art related. I think it's said that he has an art gallery? I'll have to check up on this again.

♡ Eri is V stepsister. V's dad is always overseas. Nameless and Mystic Messenger. Yes, V's father remarried. Probably after V's mom died in the fire.

♡ The Prime Minister is Saejoong Choi. Father of the twins. Known to have a link within The Agency Seven works for.

♡ Speculation: The Agency in Mystic Messenger and The Lab in The Ssum are part of the same thing. The Agency is bigger than we think. Rika was probably trying to fight against it at first. But as seen in Another Story, she probably ended up as part of the program.

⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆

Did I missed something? Let me know~ if you can, reblog with proof. Thanks.

[wholoveseggs]

Moonlight - Chapter Four

A woman’s life is turned completely upside-down when she encounters some demons in the woods.

I will be putting specific warnings for each chapter as they come out, there is smut and violence in some but I'll tag those chapters accordingly.

If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here

1k Words - Warnings: super minor mention of assault.

{Masterlist} - {Chapter list} Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five

Clearing

Elijah found her sitting in her usual spot in the clearing; they had been meeting like this for weeks now. He had brought a bottle of wine with him, hoping to contribute to the lunch she prepared for them.

"I must show you this marvelous passage I read yesterday," she said, excitedly flipping through the book he had just handed her. She held it up for him to read. "It paints such a beautiful picture in my mind."

He nodded in agreement as he sat down next to her, handing her a glass and filling it with the wine. She murmured her thanks, taking a sip as she flipped the book back to face her, continuing to scan its pages.

She looked at him, smiling, a bit of wine still on her lips. "This is delicious; thank you."

"I would love to take you into town; they put on marvelous performances there. It's like seeing what you picture in your mind come alive before you," Elijah responded as he put his arm around her.

Emma let out a small sigh, her smile faltering. "That sounds amazing, but I'll never be allowed."

"Perhaps someday," Elijah said; he had momentarily forgotten about Tomas, the unpleasant phantom that hung over them.

They sat in comfortable silence, sipping on the wine and munching on the spread of food Emma had brought. He greatly enjoyed just being in her company.

"I have something to show you," she said, breaking the silence. She looked at him with an excited smile and stood, offering her hand to help him up. For a moment, they stood close together; his eyes lingered on her soft pink lips. She smelled of lilacs and mint; her wild dark hair framing her beautiful face. Her cheeks flushed, and she took a step back, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal it. She headed down a path across from them, not looking back. "It's this way," she said.

He followed her deep into the woods, past a small river. He enjoyed the smell of pine and fresh water as he watched her gracefully step over logs and stones.

They reached an expansive plain, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. Emma gently grasped his arm, halting him before he ventured beyond the tree line.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant chime of the village bell, signaling the day's end.

Elijah's gaze followed hers, and he witnessed a magnificent sight: a herd of wild horses on the opposite side, their silhouettes etched against the fading sunlight. The sound of their thundering hooves reverberated across the plain as they galloped, creating a symphony of freedom and grace. The sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow that painted the scene in hues of orange and pink.

"Just like in one of your books," she remarked, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him, her grip still firm on his arm.

He responded with a tender smile, nodding appreciatively as he gently lifted her hand from his arm and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of it.

"I think your wine is stronger than what I'm used to," she said, blushing at his affection. "It's getting dark; I must return home."

"I'll walk you," he said, intertwining his fingers with hers as they walked back into the woods.

It had fully become night by the time they got near the village. Emma stepped out onto the main path, heading towards her home. He followed her from the tree line, making sure to stay in the shadows.

When they arrived at her home, he couldn't hear anyone else around. He stepped out onto the path, walking her to her door. Once she passed the threshold, she turned to face him.

"Can demons fall in love?" she asked, stepping close to the door frame.

He leaned in, surveying her stunning face soaked in moonlight. "Absolutely," he said softly.

"I'm sure a beautiful one like you has had many lovers," she said, giving him a sweet smile.

He smiled and looked down at his feet, "I suppose," he said, feeling bashful. "What about you?" he asked as he looked up from under his brow.

"A secret few," she whispered shyly.

"Demon, what are you doing at my house?" interrupted Tomas. He was walking down the path towards them, an angry look on his face.

Elijah watched the spark in Emma's eyes disappear; she backed up into the dark hallway, giving him a pleading look. He could hear her heart beating rapidly.

"Looking for you, Tomas. Your wife wouldn't speak to me," Elijah bluffed, turning to face him with a casual expression.

"I don't allow beasts near my property; come away from there," Tomas demanded.

Elijah obliged, amused by the hubris of this witch, especially because he could so easily tear out his spine.

"What do you want?" said Tomas, his arms crossed as he kept glancing at his house. His heartbeat was unsteady.

"Some of the locals have been consuming verbena. We agreed only the witches can do that," Elijah said, coming up with an excuse for his visit.

"We cannot control what the local folk do," Tomas huffed, passing him and heading up his porch steps.

"That's not the agreement we made," Elijah said coolly.

Tomas passed the threshold, turning to give Elijah a wicked smile.

"Leave. Demon." Tomas growled, and slammed the door.

Elijah could hear Tomas yelling and the sound of him slamming objects in their house. Emma was quiet, only letting out small whimpers as Tomas continued to break things. As Elijah walked away, he heard the sound of a fist meeting flesh, followed by Emma's anguished cry, igniting a surge of boiling fury within him.

{Masterlist} - {Chapter list} Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five