#thank you to the knuckles post i saw that reminded me

[exclusonic]

Happy (late) Birthday to Knuckles!!

[stave-writes]

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

[sswiftiestars]

Professor!anakin aaaaaaa

professor!Anakin X fem! reader

warnings: SMUT. kinda big age gap (12 years. ani is 32 you’re 20), more of a jerking off headcanon, sexting, dilf! anakin is mentioned, padmes death at birth mentioned.

a/n: idk how college works so if it doesn’t makes sense, that’s why. sorry babes :). also, i imagine him to look like a mix of clay beresford and Stephen glass in this.

not proofread

You sit in your english class, in your sophomore year of college, as your teacher, Mr. Skywalker, was speaking in the head of your class.

you often found yourself staring at his dirty brown curls a lot, instead of listening to whatever dumbass lecture he was babbling about.

You’d also think about how it’d feel if his hands were knuckle deep inside your pussy, but, you also thought about what it’d be like for his hopefully huge cock to be down your throat. you thought about it as you endlessly fucked your self with your slim fingers, whining to yourself because it wasn’t enough.

and..little did you know, so did he.

..Anakin isn’t a…romantic guy, that’s for sure. during sex, i mean. he takes what he wants. Anakin would rather face fuck a girl till she cries, rather than taking it slow and placing soft kisses on her neck.

Sure, he can do that, but he doesn’t like to.

Anakin often stayed up late at night, fucking his fist like there was no tomorrow. he usually thought of his late wife, Padme, who unfortunately passed during child birth.

but..that changed. ever since he saw you for the first time in his class..everything changed.

“y/n, are you listening to me?” your professor asked you, your class all turning their heads at you.

you felt anxiety bubble up in your head, and chest.

you clear your throat, “yes sir.” you murmur out. Anakin nodded back at you with a slight smirk before returning back to his lecture.

Your best friend smirked at you from across the room. She knew how infatuated with him you were, because you’d tell her all your unhinged thoughts about him. you rolled your eyes jokingly in response, but deep down, you knew you’d be fucking yourself thinking about that stupid smirk of his later.

When the bell rings, you pick up your stuff and right as you’re about to leave the classroom, Anakin calls out to you.

“Not so fast, Y/n. cmere.” anakin says with a slight grin on his tan and freckled face. you wasted no time and walked over to his desk and tilted your head slightly out of curiosity.

“Listen, y/n, your grades are slipping.” he reminded you, anakins face turning serious.

“I- yeah, i know..” you mutter back in response, your face turning a bit red out of embarrassment.

“Do you need to start staying after class?” Anakin cleared his throat and leaned closer to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” you said, your breath hitching ever so slightly at his request, “—but not today, i have some things i have to do.” you lied, to tell the truth, you really needed to get to your room as soon as possible so you could fuck your self silly.

he smiled, “Alright. sounds like a plan.” Anakin nodded, “i know this isn’t the most professional thing to do, but here’s my number so we can schedule a tutoring session.” he murmured with a chuckle as he handed you a post it note with his number on it.

You quickly took the post it and nodded, “Thank you, Sir.” you said as you walked out of the classroom.

Later that day, well, night now.. it was around 8:00pm when you texted your professor,“Hey! it’s y/n, just letting you know this is me, text me when you think of a day we can schedule a tutoring session next week!”

he wasted no time at all with a quick response:

“hello, y/n! i’ll make sure to let you know. Side note; start paying attention in class instead of daydreaming. it might help you out a bit.”

you rolled your eyes to yourself, “I don’t daydream. not at all.” you text back teasingly, but making sure to keep everything as normal as possible, since he was your professor, and all.

“keep talking to me like that and you’ll see what happens.”

oh.

Oh.

“is this fucker flirting with me, or am i delusional?” you say to yourself.

“i’ll talk to you however i want. over text, at least.” you respond, hoping you’d get a bold text back.

well, your dreams came true.

“I think that mouth has better uses then talking,y/n”

“Oh?” you replied, not expecting his response like that at all, “andddd what would those better uses be?” you added.

“Probably sucking my cock.” Anakin texted you, trying to ignore the absolutely huge hard on that was straining his sweatpants.

your jaw dropped to the floor and you turned bright red. why would he say that? he’s your teacher, not your boyfriend.

“that’s not very appropriate.”

“I don’t care if it’s not “appropriate”, sweetheart. You want me and i want you too.” Anakin texts you, and starts to pull his hard cock out. Before you really get the chance to reply, he sends you a photo of him palming his hard cock, leaking pre-cum from the pretty tip.

You bite your lip when you look at the photo, feeling yourself grow wet at the sight of his huge length.

“See how bad i want you?” Anakin taunts over text message.

You waste no time to quickly take off your clothes, leaving yourself in your lace bra and underwear. you take a photo of your tits and some of your hips.

You send the photo to him, and the second he sees it, Anakin immediately starts to pump his cock.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck-“ he moans, as he looks at the photo. “Gonna’ cum all over your tits-“ Anakin mutters to himself, and let’s out a little whimper. Anakin continues s to fuck his fist and after a couple more minutes, he cums on his phone screen, onto your tits.

He quickly realizes what he’s gotten himself into, and a wave of guilt washes over him.

“Fuck. i’m gonna get fired for this.”

[moonlight-prose]

the spilling of seeds & the eating of hearts

a/n: so this was posted to patreon in december and well i haven't done any writing as of late. so this is me just shoving an old fic into the open. there really isn't any explanation other than i watched saltburn and churned this out. did it take a year to finish? yes. ignore that. it gave me such a hard fucking reset. the movie is so horny i had no choice but to write din as a professor on his knees. the image literally wouldn't leave my head. but anyways thanks barry i guess for resetting my brain so hard i blacked out and wrote professor porn.

summary: if he could crack open his ribs and let you eat the seeds of his heart he would. he'd bend to your will without question, without hesitation, because it was you. the person he hungered for. the love he craved. you were the pomegranate forbidden to him for so long, and finally he was given a taste.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader (professor au)

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, professor au, cannibalistic description of love, hades and persephone, the personification of hunger, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, wanting to drown in the pussy, din being tortured in the best way, they fuck nasty in this one people.

“I’m voracious for you.”

You could hear his voice even now, sitting in the middle of a room waiting for the accompanying professors in your department to deign you with their presence. The gruff rasp of his voice. The heaviness behind his words. They stuck cloyingly to the back of your throat as if he’d pressed them there with his tongue, smearing their meaning along your taste buds in the hopes that you’d understand his need.

The clock on the wall ticked away. Seconds, minutes, until you were ready to rip apart the mechanical springs and gears with your hands. Maybe then you’d be able to sit in silence. Process his words as they rolled around in your mind, pinging back and forth—dragging your attention to them each time.

“It never stops.”

Your teeth scraped against your bottom lip, tongue peeking out to wet the dry skin.

“This need.”

A trickle of heat spread between your thighs, spilling into your already soaked panties. You could practically picture him standing in front of you. His hands balled into fists so tight the skin of his knuckles turned pale; eyes darker than their normal chocolate brown. He looked like he was in pain, suffering from an agony you had caused—anguish that only you could get rid of.

A five minute conversation. That’s all he asked of you before you were due for your meeting. You figured he wanted to discuss the lecture he planned, the one you helped him with. Only for him to stand on the opposite side of the office, leaned against a desk, his hands gripping the edge. You were afraid it would break at one point. That is before he shared with you the thoughts that plagued his mind, the feeling he couldn’t claw out of his chest.

A quick glance at the clock told you waiting for them was pointless and that you’d be better off heading back to your office. Or at least attempt to stand without completely embarrassing yourself in the skirt you were wearing. His words continued to ring clear as a bell and you were addicted to their melody. You craved the essence of their cadence, how he looked unraveled at the thought of you.

“I feel like I’m going mad.”

The echo of your heels against the floor reverberated through you. Each step a different gunshot, inflicting a different wound. They reminded you of why the both of you stayed away from this temptation, why you chose to remain friendly all the while your insides were stained red. How long until everyone else saw that you were bleeding? How long until they noticed you were choking on it?

Your eyes snapped to the silver placard of his name at the front of his door. You almost laughed at the irony of them placing your offices across the hall from one another. As if you were meant to be tied together the moment you met. It didn’t help that you were completely taken by his grin that only pulled up half of his lips, the shine of his eyes as they caught sight of you for the first time.

The first time you stood in this spot you were nervous. For no other reason than it being your first day and you were one hundred percent sure the students would eat you for fucking breakfast. Having stage fright didn’t help.

Which led to him giving you tips, listening to your lessons when you needed help. Ultimately followed by dinners late at night, wine shared over jazz and blues and movies so old you could barely make out the picture at times. All of it was a recipe for disaster. A path that led nowhere else but here. But you had never laughed so hard, never felt so fucking alive before.

He’d woken up a part of you that hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in highschool. A bright light that still held an infinite amount of hopes and dreams and wondered if the world was actually scary…or if adults were just fucking with you.

Yet there you stood, hand raised to knock on his door, chest heaving with labored nervous breaths, and the realization that life was…terrifying.

But then the door swung open, his frazzled appearance showing before you, and suddenly life began to glow again. Just as it did before.

“I didn’t…” You dropped your hand, smoothing it against your skirt.

His eyes went wide, body straightening within seconds. “I was just coming to…”

“I’m sorry for leaving earlier. I didn’t mean–”

He stopped, allowing you to take a moment to gather your thoughts. It gave you a chance to finally see him like this. His hair was mussed, clothing in disarray. If you hadn’t been standing in this very office forty minutes ago you would have thought he’d been with someone. But the look in his eyes told you that was an impossibility; you’d driven him to the edge of breaking and he’d gladly go there again.

He stepped aside, holding the door open to let you pass by. A small shy grin appeared on his lips, prompting you forward—all in the hopes that you would take him up on his offer. The proximity of his warmth as you drew closer in order to enter nearly singed the hair off your arms. It was palpable enough to slice through, a burning flame that couldn’t be extinguished by mere words.

“Coffee?” he asked, running a hand through his hair to straighten himself up.

You found that you liked him better when he was messy.

“No thank you.” Unknowingly, you took the same spot as before, leaning against the edge of the table across from his desk. “I just came to sort out…what happened.”

He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

“We’re faculty and it wouldn’t exactly be breaking the rules, but I don’t want to make this a difficult space to be in.” You felt his eyes on you, could practically see them darken as you continued to speak—the words stuttered and fragmented.

“Why would it be difficult?”

The question was layered with longing. A feeling that strained against your heart, threatening to rip you apart if you chose to keep going down this path. You wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be, that you had no intentions of letting him go, but the thought of losing him—even as a friend—broke you in two.

It made you a promise of heartache, a contract of grief and you had no choice but to sign.

You unknowingly signed the second he began the conversation earlier.

“You know why–”

He took a step forward, prompting you to squeeze yourself back against the table. Even as he remained so far away.

“I’d like you to explain it to me.”

That flare of heat broke free again, a wild spirit out in the open and you were terrified of what it would do. What harm it would cause. He however seemed curious to see how far you’d go to reign in a feeling that was so right. A longing that had a cure. He’d been burning for you for so long, begging for you to quench his need, but now that he stood before you…it was clear that he’d been wrong. He wasn’t the one to burn; he wasn’t the one who would be begging.

“Professor–”

“Don’t.” He startled you with how fast he reached you in a few steps. His hand reached out, fingers curling around your chin to tilt your head up, to make you look at him. “Don’t lock me out.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you wouldn’t keep pushing.”

He huffed. “Didn’t you hear me earlier?” His hand slid to curve around the back of your neck, the other coming up to hold your cheek. “I’ve lost all my power. I lost it the second you smiled at me. You’re fucking eating me alive and I like it.”

Sucking in a breath, you watched with wide eyes as he slid down your body, until his knees connected with the floor. Brown eyes overflowing with a pained yearning looked up at you, hands filled with reverence now pressed to your hips as he prostrated himself for you. To him…you were the altar he would pray at. The goddess he’d offer himself to. If he could crack his ribs open and let you eat the seeds of his heart he would. He’d bend to your will without question, without hesitation.

“Devour me whole,” he murmured, eyes pleading to give him something to live for. “You’ve eaten my heart baby…” You gasped when he maneuvered your hand to his hair, prompting you to curl your fingers around the soft locks. “Do you like how it tastes?”

You felt like you were in a dream state, unable to wake up. Yet you weren’t sure you ever wanted to. He looked at you like you were the human embodiment of light, the thing that would satiate his ravenous hunger. With a soft grunt, his forehead fell to your stomach, fingers gripping your hips tight enough to leave the skin tender. And you tugged on his hair to hear that sound again, giving into his need because you had a hunger of your own.

“Yes,” you breathed, too afraid that you’d wake up from whatever this was. “I do.”

A pained sound was muffled into your stomach, his body shuddering as your words washed over him. Nothing could have prepared him for your admission, for the truth to finally be set free after holding it in for so long. Pressing a kiss to your waist, he felt your body shift, legs widening in stance to give him space to kneel—to prompt him forward. A silent plea for more. A need he was more than happy to appease.

Another kiss was pressed to your thigh as his hands slid down to grasp at the fabric of your skirt. Pulling it up inch by inch, dragging it out until your nails were scraping along his scalp. He kissed every part he could see, every new piece of skin that was revealed in the hopes of permanently etching the touch of his lips against the bare skin of your thigh. He wanted you to remember him.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, mouth parting when he finally revealed the black lace of your panties. A dark stain was prominent on the fabric and he felt his stomach drop.

“You’re so wet.”

Heat flushed through your cheeks at the raw depravity in his voice. The way he stared at you felt borderline obscene, but a flicker of power seeped through, blinding you. Your hand dug into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp until you saw the shiver go down his spine; his eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan breaking through the haze of lust he was under. And you wanted to hear more.

You wanted to watch him break at your feet. Watch as his lips formed around the prayer of your name—the promise of more than just this. There remained an unspoken bond between the two of you. A force that could have rivaled the power of Zeus's lightning and Poseidon's tidal waves. You were burned into his skin like a brand and he wore it with conviction.

"Din," you murmured, watching as his eyes slid up to yours, dark with lust. "Break me."

He growled a punched out fuck, his hands quickly ripping your underwear down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. Part of you expected him to rush through this. Make you finish as fast as he could. But his eyes were trained on the sight before him—how the lips of your cunt practically glistened in the lamplight of his office. How you dripped down your thighs from a simple conversation that happened earlier.

A conversation where he never got to touch you.

"That's for me." He didn't say it as a question, or even an insinuation. He spoke as if he'd always known this. A truth that was acknowledged long before you ended up in this situation.

You were his.

Through the haze of lust and depravity that swept through you, you heard yourself agree. The word yes slipping off your tongue, sweeter than honey and just as sticky. He could taste it in the air. The ache that ate at him with a hunger he’d never felt before. You made his body scream, his cock a mess in the suit pants pressed so neatly before seeing you like this—spread out and panting for his touch to continue past your thighs.

“Din,” you whimpered it softly, eyes fluttering at the feel of his mouth on your skin, and he felt desire burn through the nerves and tendons of each limb.

Yanking the skirt higher, he latched his teeth onto the tender flesh of your thigh, grinning like a wolf with a mouth coated in blood at your cry. Your body curled inwards, legs involuntarily spreading at the soft caress of his tongue. He could see the indent of his teeth. Ridged and deep and a bruising grip of starvation that would stick for days.

“Let me,” he muttered. “I need to.”

You gasped, eyes wrenching open to see his gaze latched onto the slick that coated your thighs with a sticky cream that made his mouth water. Nodding frantically, you felt the pull of his very essence drag you in. Molding you to take whatever form he craved. You were the clay he dipped his fingers into, the water he used to shape your body around his.

The hot slide of his tongue through your folds caused your knees to buckle—body leaning against the table with a heady wet sob of his name. He moaned into you, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dug into your thighs—spreading you wide enough to encompass the width of his shoulders. Pleasure stung each nerve, slicing down your spine with a desperation that had your hips grinding down along his open mouth.

An insatiable need for more grasping onto the reigns of sense and reason.

“F-Fuck,” you moaned, unashamedly dragging your cunt across his wet and waiting mouth.

A cracked groan was all he offered in return. His lips sealing around your pulsing clit hard enough for your back to arch—nails digging into his scalp hard enough to rip out the soft curls you gripped. Spit smeared along your thighs, your slick pouring along the length of his throat. You wanted to lick it off, to push it back into his plush mouth and taste it off his tongue. Another harsh suck dragged a sharp cry of his name past your parted lips.

“Fuck I’m gonna–” Your eyes rolled back as he pressed a thick finger past your entrance, the pad of it curling along the tight grip of your walls. “Baby please.”

The shudder that ran down his spine at the ragged wailing plea nearly threw you over the edge. Brown eyes glazed with an unhinged fervor of a man starved met your half lidded ones. His gaze pierced right through your psyche—reading your thoughts as if they were tangible enough to flip through. And you let him.

You gave into the darkened glint that beckoned you towards bliss.

Another finger fit snugly beside his first, pressing up against the spongy patch you could barely reach on your own. Your mouth dropped open, a panting echo of his name spilling out into the air. It felt too much. A depth of sensations you’d never reached before. But you still held him close, fucking yourself against the mouth that promised you more—the tongue that traced your clit in letters forming a single three letter word.

Din.

The scrape of his teeth sent you over with a muffled shout—your hand slapping over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Having a professor barge in to see if anything was awry would be too much for either of you to handle. It would ruin your reputation—dragging him down right along with you. You knew the consequences, knew the forbidden nature of this tantalizing fruit. Yet you bit into it anyways.

Din buried himself in you, eyes sliding shut as you soaked his awaiting mouth that sucked at your entrance with a throaty moan. A sound that wrapped tight around your spine—gripping where he couldn’t reach.

“Can’t fucking get enough,” he grunted, rising to his full height—fingers curling around your throat gently. “You taste good.”

His pupils were blown wide, devouring molton brown with a feral hunger you felt settle in your own veins. He wanted to consume you. Bind your soul to his without a single thought about the consequences this relationship would incur. The university would frown on their favorite professor entertaining the young new staff member who would happily fall to their knees for him.

The pink swipe of your tongue caught his attention, his eyes zeroing in on the wet slide of saliva you left behind. Gripping you tighter, he pulled you close with a rough groan—lips catching yours in a blistering kiss. It didn’t build slowly, unraveling months of tension, moments of unfathomable longing you could barely handle on your own. It scorched you to your very core. Laying waste to the stability you clung to, the sanity you relied on.

“I need you,” the words spilled into his open mouth—digging deep enough to rattle his bones. “Inside. I-I need–”

He shushed you gently, licking hotly along your bottom lip—his hands dropping to the brown leather belt you eyed earlier. The clink of the buckle destroyed you, a needy whine crawling up and out of your throat. This was your damning moment, the path split down the center and building something new. Smiling into the kiss, he shucked his pants down—cock straining against the boxers sporting a wet patch of precum.

“Up,” he demanded, tapping your thigh.

You clambered onto the table with his hands on your hips—legs spreading to accommodate his size. Pleading words lay on the tip of your tongue, but his mouth was quick to silence them. A kiss of reverence stole your breath while he freed himself with a gasp—pumping his leaking cock and sliding through your dripping folds. Coating his length with what already stained his chin.

With eyes closed and fingers lost in his curls, you gave yourself over to the sensory deprivation of the situation. Your hips canted up, clit catching on the prominent vein that throbbed with need. He pushed a moan along the back of your teeth, stretching your walls slow enough to draw you to the edge of madness.

“There’s no part of me–” The words were carried with a sharp breath and teeth scraping your ear. “That isn’t yours.”

Your walls fluttered at his words—in utter ruin from the sound of his soft rasp echoing sweetly in your ear. The pomegranate seeds lay delicately on your tongue, enticing you to close your jaws around their tart flavor. A permanent agreement of devotion stuck at the back of your throat as he pummeled into your cunt with broken grunts and soft moans. You swallowed them without a second thought, clinging to his back and muffling what sounds he drew out into his neck.

The thrust of him plunging into you felt exquisite. Each one sharp and hungry. He was a man uninhibited by the doubts that swirled in your mind. Possessed by need, held captive by your scent—your taste that still plagued his senses. You were inside his bones. A spell bound into the tendons and ligaments of his broad body to keep him tied to you permanently.

Forever bound by far more than you could comprehend at this moment.

“Yours,” you whimpered, feeling a tight grip on the back of your neck pull your head back slightly—lips finding yours as he pounded up into you. “‘S all yours Din. I’m yours.”

The muffled moan he pressed into your mouth echoed in your own chest. It said all that would go unsaid for now. The emotions you kept hidden in the casket of your heart, ready to die with them before revealing how much you longed for him. All the innocent glances, lingering touches, each time he showed up in your office for lunch or simply to walk you home.

You thought you buried it.

Never to be revived.

Until he poured himself into your lungs without mercy—consumed you with a smile coated in the thick shine of your release. He destroyed himself at your altar, pledged himself on his knees. Your lover, the other half of your misshapen heart.

“You want to cum?” he growled, grinding into you hard enough to have white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes. “Can feel you soaking me baby.”

Fighting for a lungful of air, you dared to meet his burning gaze. “Uh-huh.”

A smile curled along swollen and bruised lips. “She’s begging for it. My pretty girl’s all wet for me.”

Through the bliss you could hear it, the push and pull of his body against yours, his cock coated in your slick. It echoed loud enough to make your ears burn—your skin already hot to the touch as he dug his fingers wherever he could reach. You were dripping for him, making a mess on his slacks that would later stain, but he didn’t care. That was the last thing on his mind when he had you in his arms, mewling into his ear with pleading words of more.

The words were drowned out by the echo of skin against skin—a soft breath that punctured his chest. “I-I want to.” 

“I know,” he cooed, thumb digging into your bottom lip. “C’mon then baby. Soak me yeah? Give me a mess to clean up.”

Your mouth dropped, eyes rolling back into the mind he emptied with each punch to your walls—rubbing against heaven. Eventually in your life you knew you would break. Shatter like glass against concrete, but this felt as if every bone was fractured. Every nerve cauterized and muscle torn to shreds. You were left to float along the River Styx, the soul he stripped from your body now held in his grasp—kept as a memory of his emotions.

Sobbing a splintered version of his name, you trembled in his hold, his cock ramming into you with harsh bitten out grunts he muffled into the crook of your neck. Your walls clamped down, a splatter of your release coating the sticky skin of your inner thighs. He cried out as if you burned right down to his core—his fingers a bruising hold on your hips, teeth hooking into the tender flesh of your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spilling into you with a rumbling noise that sprouted from his chest.

“I didn’t–” Fighting the haze in your severed mind you felt his hand slide along your stomach, dropping low enough to slide through the mixture of your cum. “I’ve never…”

The audible echo of him sucking his fingers into his mouth with a moan cut off anything else you planned to say. Whatever explanation you hoped to conjure in a mind still coming back down vanished at the sight of him feasting on the mess he longed for. An offering of more to come now cooling on your shaky thighs.

“Delicious,” he murmured, scooping more and spreading it along the twitching clit still begging for attention. You gasped as he brought it to your tongue, letting you suckle it off with a whine. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Catching his gaze through your lashes, you let his fingers slip from the hot cavern of your mouth—the taste of him a craving you needed again. “In a bed next time.”

His cock stirred, large hands grasping your hips. “Next time huh?”

“I could be persuaded.”

Lips sought yours with a throaty call of your name. You dragged him closer—pressing your knees into his sides—and he came willingly. As if the tie that held you together knotted tighter the longer you basked in each other’s silent promises of more. Whether or not it would last was of no concern to you. His touch was gentle along your skin, tongue hot and coveted tangled with yours.

“Let me persuade you,” he breathed.

Catching his bottom lip with your teeth, you curled an arm around his neck. “You already have.”

“Interesting.” His grin felt electric against your cheek, a piece of him come back to life with the prospect of more. “I must have a gift.”

“Mm yes.” You met his smile with one of your own. “Your tongue is a skillful asset.”

“Just my tongue?”

“Well…”

Laughter shouldn’t have stolen your breath the way his did—deep and filled with a rasp you felt rocket down your spine. “Tonight?”

Suddenly what should have been a one off moment of sporadic lust grew to be much more. You knew coming here would result in something neither of you could take back. A vow unspoken between two people who shouldn’t want more, yet were unable to ask for anything less. He was tied to you from that first day—a brief greeting between two passing ships. It was only a matter of time until eventually…you collided.

“I’d really like that,” you admitted, sealing your fate in hot wax carved with his initials.

He kissed you slowly, drinking down the soft breathy moan that clawed up your throat—a future clasped between hearts that finally beat in tune. “I would too.”

[ampheenix]

What is this feeling, so sudden and new?

TAGS: Sonadow, 2k, post-Sonic 3, fluff & crack, that one trope where a character has a crush and thinks it's an illness lol

SUMMARY:

The surprise attack had taken Sonic completely off guard. He’d been wandering the old lab, gently placing a hand against the cracked glass of Shadow’s old containment pod, wondering just what had happened here…

Then out of nowhere, a gloved hand slammed Sonic against the tank, the impact rattling the glass behind him. A familiar thumb pressing painfully into his cheek, air knocked from his lungs, and the world seeming to narrow down to a single point- the weight and sheer strength of the hedgehog holding him in place.

That very moment was when the symptoms began.

Or, after Shadow survives the blast, Sonic finds himself saddled with strange symptoms. Heated cheeks, a racing heartbeat, dizziness…

There was only one possible explanation.

Sonic was allergic to him.

He had to be coming down with something.

Sonic was sure of it.

After miraculously saving the world, which was just a hair’s breadth away from total devastation, as per usual (with just a liiittle help from a certain ebony hedgehog), then going through the traumatic realization that the ebony hedgehog in question was dead after not surviving the blast, grieving for days only to come to the slightly less traumatic realization that no, he’s alive, he’s literally the Ultimate lifeform and crazy strong and why would you think he died in the first place-

Well. Needless to say, it had been… a lot.

But aside from the illness currently ailing Sonic, the aftermath of that whole incident had been surprisingly peaceful!

Tom had been healing up just fine, looking to make a full recovery (thank goodness), G.U.N had finally stopped trying to head-hunt them after they literally saved the world, and, well…

Shadow.

It had been quite the shock to everyone involved when the small, mournful eulogy they had been holding in honour of him was crashed by none other than the hedgehog himself. He did it all cool, too, walking in casually like it was just good ol’ regular game night and not, you know, his literal funeral.

He’d stopped in his tracks when he saw the tears welling up in Sonic’s eyes and the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “Did I… miss something? Why are you all so- oh. Right.” Shadow had realized, eyes widening.

Sonic had then barreled into him with all the grace of a falling piano, arms squeezing him tight and getting his fur wet with tears. He’d then jumped back, looking momentarily embarrassed as he scrubbed his arm across his face. “Where the hell have you been, Shadow?! We all thought you were dead, it’s been like- two weeks!”

“Vacationing.” Shadow had said dryly, only to get a hard punch to the shoulder. He’d moved his gaze to the blue hedgehog, confused. “That almost hurt.”

“This is no time for jokes, man!” Sonic had exclaimed, upset. Then he’d stopped, emotions temporarily on pause. “Wow. I never thought I’d be the one saying that.” Off to the side, Maddie couldn’t help herself as she let out a snort, exchanging a glance with Tom.

“But I wasn’t joking. I landed in New Mexico after the blast.” Shadow had stated, folding his arms. “I ended up paying Gabriella a visit while I was there, and she gave me a tour of the city.”

“Gabriella?!” Knuckles had thundered all of a sudden, racing over. His eyes were huge, looking at Shadow with uncharacteristic excitement. “You met her in the flesh? What was she like?!”

“Woah, Knucks, slow down a sec- who the hell is-” Then Sonic’s mouth dropped open, glancing from him to Knuckles and back again. Because there was only Gabriella he knew of that his brother would get this excited about.

“YOU WENT TO SEE THE GIRL FROM LA ULTIMA PASIÒN?!”

Everyone started laughing, and Shadow growled quietly, looking irritated. “Not intentionally. It was on the way, so I thought I’d stop by and remind her that she’s not a prize to be won. That she should be her own person.”

Sonic was full-body laughing now (though not unkindly) lifting a gloved hand to wipe a tear of mirth from his eye. “God, Shadow, you’re a riot! You do know they’re all actors, right?”

“I know that now.” Shadow had muttered, a bit embarrassed. It was almost cute, Sonic thought to himself absent-mindedly, the way he’d narrow his eyes and glance to the side, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

Then Shadow’s eyes had found the humans and their chortling, zeroing in on the tall man with his arm in a sling. Remembering the other reason he’d come (aside from seeing Sonic, of course), he inhaled, readying himself.

 He’d turned to the couple with his gaze on the ground, looking almost… guilty. “Tom?” He’d said softly, voice cutting through the light atmosphere in the room. Almost instantly, every eye was on them.

Tom stiffened, giving him a slightly suspicious look as he’d nursed his injured arm. He hadn’t really been wary of Shadow so far (mainly because Sonic had given them all the full story afterwards- considering the guy had helped saved the world, he hadn’t really held the injury against him. That and the fact that he was supposed to be dead.)

Shadow had winced at his rejection, almost imperceptibly so, but Maddie caught it. She had given her husband a gentle pat on his arm along with a smile. “Come on honey, hear him out.”

Tom had met her eyes for a moment, unsurprised- Maddie never did have the willpower to resist sad hedgehog eyes (and neither did he, to be fair.) Raising an eyebrow at her regardless, Tom turned towards him.. “Alright then… Shadow, was it?”

“Mmm.” Shadow had affirmed. Sonic and his brothers had watched them with curious eyes, wondering what was about to go down.

“I am… sorry, that you got hurt. It wasn’t my intention- I… I thought you were Commander Walters, the man who ordered for my imprisonment fifty years ago. But then the technology, the hologram- whatever it was, glitched out and it was only then that I realized my mistake. I apologize.” Shadow bowed his head.

Before anyone could say anything, he had lifted his head again, turned towards the door. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving everyone gaping after him. Sonic had called his name over and over, frustrated that he had disappeared so quickly (he still had so many questions!!), but the hedgehog had disappeared.

Fast-forward to a week later, where Sonic was pacing across the floorboards of his bedroom, mind racing. He was sure of it- Shadow had infected him with something terrible.

First off, the hedgehog was living rent-free in his head, and it was weird.

He spotted a red thing next to a black thing? His thoughts immediately jumped to Shadow.

Noticed a kid gliding around on rollerskates? Shadow again.

And every night when he went out to gaze up at a sky of stars, he couldn’t help but think about the soft words they had exchanged, when he and Shadow had been watching the sun slowly rise over the Earth.

“A light shines, even though the star is gone.”

And it wasn’t just that, oh no!

Whenever Sonic remembered those times they’d spent together... He’d start feeling oddly dizzy and warm, his heart would start racing, he’d feel a weird fluttering in his stomach, and strangest of all…

 He’d feel the strange urge to bury his head in his hands and roll around on the floor.

The first time he’d noticed the symptoms was during the battle- the one just before Shadow had attempted to vaporize them all with a black hole. (But hey, forgive and forget, right?)

The surprise attack had taken Sonic completely off guard. He’d been wandering the old lab, gently placing a hand against the cracked glass of Shadow’s old containment pod, wondering just what had happened here…

Then out of nowhere, a gloved hand slammed Sonic against the tank, the impact rattling the glass behind him. A familiar thumb pressed painfully into his cheek, air knocked from his lungs, and the world seemed to narrow down to a single point- the weight and sheer strength of the hedgehog holding him in place.

Sonic found himself stunned, eyes widened and his senses overwhelmed. His nose had filled with Shadow’s unmistakable smoky scent, a mix of ozone and gunpowder and something faintly metallic. It was a scent Sonic recognized instantly, one tied to lost battles, bruised limbs and tense conversations, but he’d never smelled it up so close like this- it was sharp, intense and almost.. intoxicating.

Shadow had practically reeked of fury and frustration, even more so than usual- distracted by the strong scent and too shocked to even attempt escaping his rough grip, Sonic was reduced to useless putty in his hands as Shadow tugged his head back and hurled him against the wall.

But that adrenaline, that zing of energy that always came with a surprise attack- it still didn’t explain the peculiar warmth in his cheeks when Shadow had hissed directly into his ear, roughly pushing his head into the glass to the point where he couldn’t move (and Sonic was strong, so that was not an easy feat.)

Before he knew it, Sonic found himself rolling around on the floor again with his head buried in his gloves, letting out a high-pitched squeal. What was with him?!

Sonic could tell his family had noticed too… he’d been quieter than usual, too lost in thought to infect the house with his usual contagious grin and razor-sharp wit.

Tails kept shooting him furtive glances when he thought he wasn’t looking, Tom and Maddie had been having more and more whispered conversations late at night (Sonic had caught his name being muttered more than once), and heck, even Knuckles was feeling the weird vibes!

Knuckles! That was how you really knew something was wrong.

It didn’t help that Shadow still hadn’t shown his face in the week since his funeral, not even to say hi, which was just plain rude if you asked him! What kinda guy showed up at his own eulogy, claimed he was ‘vacationing,’ and then just… disappeared?

The mysterious illness… the symptoms only seemed to appear whenever Shadow was involved, so could it be that- wait, no, that was just silly.

But it made too much sense…  Sonic’s antsy pacing slowly petered to a stop as his eyes widened, his mind racing.

He had to be allergic to Shadow. That was the only possible explanation.

Sonic was sure of it. But, well, just to make sure-

“Tails!! Tails!!” Sonic raced down the stairs, taking them three at a time before skidding to a stop right next to his brother. Tails glanced up at him from where he was watching TV with Tom and Maddie. But where was- ah. Sonic’s ear twitched hearing Knuckles rustle around the kitchen- probably hunting about for grapes.

“Sonic?” Tails said, understandably confused. “What is it?”

“If you’re planning another adventure, I hope it can wait another five minutes.” Maddie smiled sensibly, sounding a bit sleepy from under the blankets where she was cuddling with Tom. “Bluey’s about to start.”

“Oh! Wait, really?” Sonic paused, indecisive. On one hand, he’d wanted to ask Tails to give him a quick medical checkup with his scanners. You know, just making sure he didn’t have some other strange disease- that would prove once and for all that his allergies were tied to Shadow, right?

“You should watch with us!” Tom smiled, patting the empty couch cushion next to him. “Though there isn’t much blanket left, thanks to Maddie…” He shook his head at her, bundled up in the fluffy blanket with a shameless grin.

But on the other hand… “Which episode is it?” Sonic asked pensively, this information vital towards his final decision. Chances were, it was one he’d seen a million times-

Tails grinned, knowing they’d won. “The 80s one.”

“Sold.” Sonic said instantly, and in the blink of an eye he was nestled on the couch with them. Hey, it was his favorite episode! Sometimes you just had to prioritize- he could investigate the allergies afterwards.

Knuckles re-entered the room from the kitchen, holding a large bowl of fresh green grapes (as Sonic had predicted). He then stopped in his tracks seeing the blue hedgehog on the couch, frowning. “Hedgehog, you stole my spot.”

“What can I say? You snooze, you lose!” Sonic grinned, sinking further into the couch cushions and making sure to get extra comfortable.

“I will not stand for this disrespect.” Without missing a beat, Knuckles walked over and easily lifted him up with one hand, other hand holding the bowl, before unceremoniously dumping him on the other side of the couch.

He then sat down to tuck into his grapes, sending Sonic a triumphant grin of victory as he did so. The others all snickered, Tails trying his best not to laugh as he gave his brother a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Sonic just rolled his eyes with a good-natured sigh, accepting his fate. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be petty about it- he scrambled over everyone (getting some annoyed groans as he did so) in order to steal some grapes from the Echidna, swiping them quick as a flash before he was back on the other end of the couch.

He nibbled on them with relish, grinning at Knuckle’s sour expression. Hey, these were juicy! Yum.

Sonic settled in to watch TV with his family, and his mind definitely didn’t keep drifting back to Shadow, over and over again.

And that night, when he gazed up at the galaxies and stardust swirled across that inky expanse, he absolutely didn’t hear Shadow’s soft, gentle words echoing in the back of his mind. Nope. Not even once.

…Allergies were really the worst.

If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a kudos on ao3! <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62019349

[tipsynight0]

What remains of you// part two

Paring - Jeff the killer x female reader

Word count 1.2k

TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicide, self harm, death & decay, psychosis, violence, murder?

Summary - Jeff is struggling with the aftermath of (y/n) suicide attempt.

Author's note - ahhh!! Hello lovies. I honestly didn’t expect to have so much love on my last post and a lot of requests on part two. Thank you for all the support, my requests are always open <3 reminder if you feel this way, reach out for support.

The dripping of the faucet was constant, unyielding—a steady tap-tap-tap that burrowed into Jeff’s skull, gnawing at the last shreds of his sanity. He sat alone in his dim room, a cloud of smoke hanging thick around him, his bloodshot eyes locked on the night outside his window. Everything beyond it was lost in a heavy, swirling fog. Time had twisted itself into knots, and he couldn’t remember how many days had slipped by like this, blending one into the next. His mind was fraying, but there was one thing he was sure of: (y/n) was still here.

She had to be.

He could still feel her presence, sense her somewhere in the house, even if she was cold and silent, slipping around him like a shadow. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t look at him, or that her body was sometimes stiff when he tried to hold her. She was just… recovering. Healing from that night. He had saved her, hadn’t he? Pulled her from that bathtub, his hands covered in her blood as he whispered over and over, “You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”

But sometimes, late at night, he’d reach out to touch her, and she’d feel so cold, so rigid. Sometimes he’d lie beside her, whispering in her ear, begging her to say something, anything. And in those moments, a creeping fear would start clawing at his chest, but he’d push it down, refusing to let himself think about it. She was here. She had to be. She just needed time.

But his nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her in that tub again, the water pooling around her, dark and red, her face slack and empty. The smell of blood filled his nose, thick and metallic, and he’d wake up gasping, his heart hammering in his chest. The image would stay with him, clinging to him like a sickness.

He had tried to find solace the only way he knew how. Each night, he’d go out, his knife glinting in his grip as he hunted for anyone who could distract him from the emptiness gnawing at his heart. But no matter how much he tore into them, how much he bled them dry, it wasn’t the same. He’d find himself cradling them, muttering, “Why did you leave me?” as though they were her, his mind slipping as he clutched them close, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. None of it filled the void. Nothing worked. He needed her.

One night, he came back home, stumbling through the door, his clothes stained with blood. The house was quiet, and as he kicked off his boots, he heard it—a faint sound, barely there. The trickle of water.

He froze, his breath catching. The bathroom. She was in there.

The hallway felt longer than ever as he staggered toward the bathroom door, his fingers gripping the handle with such force that his knuckles turned white. His mind reeled with flashes of her lying in that bathtub, her pale face tilted toward him, blood seeping into the water. Panic clawed at him, wild and relentless, but he forced himself to breathe. She was fine. She was just taking a bath.

He pounded on the door, his voice breaking as he called her name. “(Y/n)? What are you doing? Are you… are you okay in there?” Silence pressed back at him, thick and heavy. His chest tightened as he threw his shoulder against the door, once, twice, until it burst open.

She was there, slumped in the tub, her wrists under the flow of water, her skin pale as porcelain, veins like blue rivers beneath the surface. Red streaks trickled from her wrists, painting the water with dark, dizzying patterns.

“No… no,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he staggered forward, his arms reaching out. He fell to his knees beside the tub, pulling her into his arms, cradling her body against his. Her skin was so cold, so still, but her eyes fluttered open, just barely. He gasped, his heart pounding wildly with hope as he brushed a trembling hand over her cheek.

“You’re here. I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. He could feel the damp chill of her skin seeping into him, but he ignored it, whispering, “You’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you, like I always do.” His voice grew frantic, desperate, as he tried to warm her with his touch, his fingers trembling as he clung to her.

Slowly, he lifted her from the tub, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down gently, his hands shaking as he bandaged her wrists, his mind filling with a fierce, irrational hope. She was still here, and he would make her better. He had to. He sat beside her, running his fingers through her damp hair, his mind spiraling as he watched her face.

But something was wrong. Her skin was so pale, almost gray, her lips tinged blue, her limbs heavy and unyielding. A creeping coldness settled over him, but he pushed it away, refusing to see the truth staring back at him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “You’re just… you’re just tired. You need to rest.” He leaned over her, his hands shaking as he stroked her cheek, his touch growing frantic as he tried to warm her lifeless skin. “You’re still here, with me. I know you are. You wouldn’t leave me.”

But as he stared down at her, he couldn’t ignore the vacant glassiness in her eyes, the way her skin had taken on an unnatural stillness. His stomach twisted, a sick dread settling over him, but he fought against it, his fingers brushing over her sewn lips, her expression frozen in a ghostly, silent scream.

“No… no, no, no!” he gasped, his voice cracking as he clutched her to him, burying his face in her shoulder, his mind spiraling as he clung to her still, cold form. “I saved you. I saved you! You’re still here. You’re… you’re…” But his words broke off as he felt her weight, the unmistakable stiffness beneath his touch, and the truth clawed its way through his delusion, ripping him open.

She wasn’t here. She hadn’t been here for a long time.

A broken, choked sob tore from his throat as he rocked back and forth, her cold body wrapped in his arms, his mind splintering under the weight of his realization. All this time, he had been talking to a memory, a shell. Every whisper, every touch had been a desperate illusion. His heart shattered, and he pressed his lips to her forehead, his voice a broken murmur.

“I’ll stay with you. I’ll never let you go.”

He laid her back down, tucking her carefully under the blankets, as if that could bring back her warmth. And as he curled beside her, his arms wrapped around her lifeless form, he felt his mind slipping, darkness closing in around him. His whispers faded into silence as he lay there “I’ll keep you safe”

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Attractive" - BurningCheese Short Story #2

I was going to finish and post this at night after work, but someone came to me and told me something so lovely that I felt compelled to do it now, while this big grin on my face is still giving me strength. Hope this puts a smile on everyone's faces too, but theirs especially.

So here's a BurningCheese short before I go back to work again. Special thanks to straightplankton, hope this makes your day like your message made mine :)

"Little birdie," Burning Spice called to her, "do you find me attractive?" "To find something implies that it already existed before I laid eyes upon it," Golden Cheese said. "I don't find anything about you because there is nothing there." "Is that so?" Burning Spice asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and giving her a smirk. "Then why did I catch you looking over me?" "When has that ever happened?" Golden Cheese asked, annoyed. "When we first met," Burning Spice answered. "Every so often, when we're together." His smirk grew. "Just now, as we sit and wind down from our duel." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Seems like I may have hit your head with my spear too hard and it's rattled your brain." "On the contrary, pretty bird. You hit me just right. In fact, I wouldn't say no to you hitting me even harder next time." "Hmph! Regardless, I haven't been looking at you! I never have and I never will!" "If you say so."

Back to tending to their wounds in silence the two of them went (although now, a certain frustration colored Golden Cheese's face and influenced her movements as she worked). But as they both did so, as Golden Cheese repressed a wince while rubbing medicinal ointment into the deep cut Burning Spice had carved into her forearm with his axe, she found her mind and eyes wandering off again - away from herself and to the man sitting a ways away from her, who was quiet and focusing on something besides being a bloodthirsty buffoon for once in his miserable life.

She watched for just a moment as he wrapped a bandage around his hand, over the stab wound in his palm where she had swatted his axe away with her spear and impaled him. It was... interesting to see him like this: eyebrows knit, the corners of his mouth pulled in a slight frown, the fire in his eyes that always burned bright and wild now a low simmer. Just one moment, seeing him like this, before she turned her attention back to her arm. Just one moment, where she let her curiosity get the better of her. Just one. No more.

...Until she defied her better judgment again and shot another quick glance at him while she bandaged her arm. At the splash of blood painting his cheek a darker red than his skin (whose it was, she wasn't sure). At the strands of jet black hair still dutifully framing his face; still curling around his ears and along his jaw like they always did.

Back at her arm when she thought she saw him glancing back at her from the corner of his eye.

Nothing she did really put a stop to this... strange compulsion of hers. No amount of particular, narrow-eyed focus on her injuries kept her from eventually looking back at his own. No amount of pain and discomfort brought by cleaning and dressing her many wounds distracted her from the oddly stoic expression he wore as he did the same to himself. No amount of internal scolding or self-criticism shielded her from the repeated sight of... the dark tattoos circling his biceps. His strong chest, decorated with those same foreign tattoos, the Light of Destruction glinting in the harsh sunlight at the very center. The beads of sweat trickling down his face, down that chest... down those well-toned abs that she remembers being harder than stone (or so the bruises on her knuckles liked to remind her every time she looked at them).

...Very strange compulsion, indeed. Perhaps these duels of theirs were getting to her. Fighting so hard for so long must be worse for her mind than she'd originally assumed. He calls her "thief", and yet here he comes at least once a month to steal not only her time and patience, but apparently a bit of her sanity, as well. Such audacity... She'd almost commend it, if it wasn't so infuriating.

Just as she was about to silently congratulate herself for her good first-aid work and for not peeping at Burning Spice for longer than five minutes, a faint groan reached her ears and drew her away from her freshly dressed arms and legs and back to that accursed Beast. Burning Spice was now sitting up straight, letting out a soft sigh as he stretched... as he flexed his ridiculously strong arms, as he puffed out his chest, as he bent a little backwards in such a way as if to show off his abdomen. The sun's rays seemed to go out of their way to wrap themselves around him - to bejewel him, almost, in how they shone upon him. In how they drew special attention to the contours of all those strong, thick muscles. In how they helped cast little shadows that contrasted so well against his skin, in all the right places. In how it made the Soul Jam embedded in his chest, right where his heart was, gleam and glow like a star itself.

Golden Cheese could feel her face growing hotter the longer she stared. Her mouth hung slightly agape. Her mouth felt dry. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't look away. She was trapped.

And then he turned his head and looked her straight in the eye, and flashed her the biggest, happiest, most smug and satisfied grin she'd ever seen him give.

"Made you look~"

She responded to him by grabbing a handful of sand and chucking it straight at his handsome annoying face.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: look after my heart

pairing: nash hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and nash have been together for a long while now and you’re insanely in love, but circumstance forces you apart

warnings:

a/n: nash is so underrated 🤍🤍 thanks for reading

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

We agreed to meet up at 10 o’clock but I was there at half past nine. I needed that time to put things into perspectives, the analyse all the what-if scenario is one by one. Nash was my everything. And my everything might be taken away from me. Nash was a Hawthorne, a grandson to a very rich and powerful man, an heir, if you will, to a fortune. And I was nothing in comparison. I was a normal girl, living in a pretty regular house, with nothing too special or extraordinary about her. You can see how it might’ve gone down when he revealed to his family that we were together. At 10 o’clock tonight everything would change. For better or for worse I didn’t know. And I wish I’d never have found out.

I noticed a figure approaching. I could tell by the way he walked that it was him right away. I stood up under the lamp post and waited until he reached me. He came into the light and I saw it in his face before he even opened his mouth. My heart slowly sank in my chest and the lump grew quickly in my throat.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, taking a step towards him.

I knew it was anything but okay. But I had to say something. He shook his head. He couldn’t meet my eye. I waited silently until he was ready. He looked at me, his hazel eyes full of the most gut-wrenching pain. I couldn’t bear to stare at them but I forced myself to. I had to be strong. For Nash.

“My grandfather made it you or my family,” he told me, his voice was hoarse and taut, it was unfamiliar for me to hear him like this, “I either run from it all with you and stay and never see you again.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated, taking his hands into mine. He grasped them so tightly, his knuckles went white and my hands filled with blood.

“I can’t leave my brothers, I can’t walk out and leave them with what I had to deal with,” he said, his voice breaking, “no one deserves to deal with that.”

I nodded, swallowing back the tears. I kept reminding myself the same few words. I had to stay strong. For Nash. If I cried then it would make it even harder and that just wasn’t fair. He didn’t need me to make this any harder than it already was.

“But I can’t leave you,” he choked out, “because I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything more than I love you. It would be like someone ripping a chunk of my heart out.”

“Oh Nash,” I murmured, my voice growing a little shaky.

“It’s an impossible decision,” he said, the strain in his voice tugging at my heartstrings.

“That’s why I��m making it for you,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek, “you need to stay with you brothers, you need to forget about me, let go and move on.”

“No,” he shook his head, glossy eyed, “no I’m finding another way.”

“We both know,” I murmured softly, “that there isn’t another way.”

There was a beat. The truth had been spoken and both of us hated it. But neither of us could change it.

“I can’t leave you,” he insisted, letting a single tear roll down his cheek, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” I sniff, my fingers trembling.

There was a deathly silence and each fraction of each moment killed me softly. Torturing my already wounded heart. I didn’t understand why the world was so cruel, who gave it the right? I didn’t understand why for once things couldn’t go my way. I finally had found someone who loved me like no one had ever loved me before and now it was being robbed from me too. Those thoughts made me feel so selfish, so conflicted, but how could I not be? My bones began to ache as the wind began to whistle and the silence was not so silent anymore.

“You’re not angry at me,” he said, “why aren’t you angry at me?”

“How could I be angry at something that’s out of your hands?” I asked him gently.

“I don’t want to do this but…” he trailed off, unable to carry on, his voice too unsteady, too broken.

“You have to, for the sake of your brothers, I know,” I attempted to comfort him.

“I-“ he went to say something but can’t get his words out. His face contorts into a look of agony and he began to sob. There were very few times I’d seen Nash cry and when he had it had never been like this. I wrapped my arms around his shaking body and guided him to where I’d previously been sitting. I held him closely and let him break down in my arms. That was the most heart breaking thing I’ve ever had to do. I couldn’t amend his agony because I was the cause.

It was like I felt his pain running through me. It hurt me to see him this hurt. Every time his body shook, my chest constricted. Tears freely now ran down my face. I had to be strong but this was what strong was at the moment. Sometimes letting yourself fall apart is strong.

“I understand Nash, really I do,” I whispered, playing with strands on his hair to distract my sorrowful mind.

He didn’t reply and I had a chance to wipe my eyes and pull myself together a little so Nash couldn’t see that if fallen apart too. After a few moments he sat up, tear stained face, eyes red and puffy. He looked so unlike the strong Nash I knew and yet I fell in love all over again in the same moment. My heart was tied to his.

“I never deserved you, not for a second,” he shook his head, eyes connected to mine.

“No,” I shook my head, my voice thick with emotion, “that’s not true.”

“I’m sorry, I wish there was a way,” he rasped.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. His eyes immediately hit the floor, guilty practically flooded out of him.

“Hey,” I snapped, “Nash. Look at me.”

His eyes met mine. Sparks ignited all the way through my body.

“It’s not your fault,” I told him firmly.

Nash blamed himself for most things, I knew that better than anyone. He needed someone to really drill it in to him for him to believe it. And even after that, more often than not he still would blame himself. It was the way that stupid grandfather of his had brought him up to believe. I often used to wonder how someone so kind hearted, so loving could have been raised by someone so cruel.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” he told me, cupping my face in his palms.

His touch is killing me and he doesn’t know it. I know he’s never going to touch me like this again. I know I’ll never feel the comfort of his gentle hands grazing my face. But I have to stay strong. For Nash.

“You don’t have that kind of choice and I know that,” I said, drawing soft spirals across his face

“He shouldn’t have this much power,” he practically growls, taking his hands from my face and throwing them down, clasping them anxiously within each other.

“But he does and neither of us can help that, there’s no point in getting angry over things we can’t control, okay?” I soothed, rubbing the top of his arms.

“Okay,” he blew a breath out, “…okay.”

He looked as if he wanted to stay something else but couldn’t quite get the words out. He attempted to pull himself together but I could see it broke him further. Silent tears rolled down his face, the lamplight making them glisten in a horribly beautiful way.

“You don’t need to find any more words,” I told him, “I promise you, I understand.”

I cupped his face in my hands and wiped away his tears gently with my thumb. He looks into my eyes, pain shining through his.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips quivering a little.

“I love you too,” I replied.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m so awfully sorry.”

“Shhhh stop apologising, you dont need to apologise,” I smiled through my pain, placing a finger on his lips. They’re velvety soft as always. I took in the moment and memorised that feeling and held onto it in my heart.

He stood up, causing my hand to drop. He extended a hand and guided me up with him. His hands coiled around the small of my waist. And I think in that moment he was the only thing holding me together.

He kissed me softly. Tenderly. Passionately.

We both knew how sacred these last moments were. We’d have to leave on another soon. His lips were so natural on mine. I closed my eyes, making it last a long as I could. Painting a memory in my mind, and burning it into the side of my brain to be sure I would never forget. Never forget these feelings, these kisses… I didn’t want to stop. Ever. I could feel the love radiating off of us each time our lips touched.

“I will never forget you,” Nash mumbled between kisses.

I breathed out shakily and stopped the kissing for a second. I stared dead into his sparkling hazel eyes and told him, “one day you’re going to find another girl, someone who is so beautiful and sweet and funny who you love more than anything, and you’re going to marry her and she’ll have your babies and your grandfather won’t be able to keep you apart.”

“I thought that girl was you,” he choked, emotion ripping back through his voice.

“Not in this story,” I shook my head, biting my lip to stop the tears from falling.

“Then one day you’ll find a boy who can give you everything I couldn’t, who treats you like you’re his whole world and more,” he said to me, hands tightening on my waist.

“You already did that for me,” I whimpered, my bottom lip trying not to tremble and failing.

“If I had, then why are we here?” he asked.

“Unfortunate circumstance,” I explained, tears freely rolling down my cheeks. My strength was wavering, my agony was winning and I couldn’t hold my pain in anymore, “maybe we weren’t meant to be.”

“You don’t mean that,” Nash said.

He knew me too well.

“No I don’t,” I agreed, “but it’s more comforting to think of it like that.”

His pressed his forehead onto mine. Our eyes were glued to each other and I wished I could’ve paralysed time, like time paralysed my ability to love after that. I wished I could’ve frozen us there and then so nothing ever changed. But that was not possible.

“I will never stop loving you,” he said, raw passion in the back of his voice.

“I will never stop loving you too,” I told him.

“This is where we let go,” he murmured.

“This is where we let go,” I confirmed.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, placing one last kiss on my lips. The sweetest kiss, laced with salty tears.

“Goodbye,” I said, in barely a whisper. It was all I could muster, all I had left.

I nodded at him softly, telling him it was time and he slowly turned his back on me. He walked away into the darkness of the night, looking back over his shoulder at me just standing there. Every cell in my body screamed for me to run towards him, fling my arms around him and beg for him to stay. But I didn’t. Because that would’ve broken him even more than he’s already been broken. And he does not deserve that.

“Look after my heart Nash Westbrook Hawthorne,” I whispered into the nothingness, the wind carrying my forgotten words to some far off place, where they’d probably never be heard.

a/n: credit to @sister-lucifer for the divider

TIG masterlist

[espballs]

It's Never Just Coffee

Chapter 1 - I Saw You Paint The Sun

♡ Summary: The Mean Bean gets a new alien barista! And Shadow wants to learn more about the other hedgehog in Green Hills

♡ Note: Canon divergent, technically takes place at the start of Sonic 2 but Knuckles left Eggman and became bros with Sonic. Shadow got released by Commander Walters. Gerald died. Shadow doesn't want to destroy the world cuz Eggman and Gerald aren't there. Characters may be ooc because of altered events

♡ Cross posted on AO3

“Ma’am this is The Mean Bean… There are no Unicorn Frappuccinos here...”

The little girl on the other side of the counter frowned. “Then can you give me something pink?” She asked quietly, instantly perking up with a new idea. “Oh! And add a little unicorn horn to it too! With sprinkles, powder, and drizzle!”

Shadow recoiled out of sheer disgust. How could anyone drink something like that when coffee beans existed?

Shadow sighed and softened his gaze. He looked down at the little girl. “I can’t make that, but what I can make you is a hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream”

The girl brightened up again and slammed a ten dollar bill onto the counter. “YES! Make me that!” she screamed.

Shadow recoiled so fast he almost fell off of his stepping stool. But he took her money and entered it into the cash register and handed the girl her change before hopping off his stool.

His ears flicked when she let out a squeal of excitement. The little girl quickly rushed out the way for Stone to take care of the next customer. 

Shadow moved with precision every time he made a drink. Cold milk from the jug poured carefully into the pitcher. Pitcher under the steam nozzle, where it’d let out a small hiss and the milk began to bubble as the temperature rose.

Shadow tended to think while it heated up.

Shadow hadn’t been working at Coffee shop for long, today was his second day and he was already considering quitting. It had been two weeks since his sudden release from G.U.N.

But Shadow knew he was definitely being monitored—if the band on his left wrist was anything to go by.  

Milk swirling with cocoa powder always drew Shadow back in. The rich scent it released was one Shadow had grown accustomed to in the past week. It brought him back to her.

Pouring the mixture into the ceramic mug. Shadow wondered why they let him out, and why now. Fifty years of pain and they let him go despite the fact he might try and take revenge on them for killing her?

He circled the whipped cream around till it began to build up into a tall mountain of white. Shadow stepped back to momentarily admire it before he stuck a peppermint stick in the center.

Shadow placed the hot chocolate in front of the girl with a soft exhale, not realizing he’d been holding his breath until the moment passed. He glanced up and saw the little girl’s eyes light up as she admired her drink.

“Thank you,” She quickly said before she grabbed the mug and chugged her drink.

Perhaps it was the little girl's youth, her blonde hair, or even her blue coat that somehow reminded Shadow of Maria.

Perhaps it was odd of him to be reminded of her every time he saw a blonde, whenever he looked at the color blue, or whenever he saw someone as youthful as she was when she died.

Maria was a constant thought in his brain ever since his release. The pain of her loss felt like too much to bear at times

Shadow just shook his head and turned back to his work. 

“You alright Shadow?” Stone asked, standing by the front counter.

Shadow didn’t respond at first. He tried to steady his mind many times without success, he worried it was beginning to become a distraction. Would Stone get rid of him for it?  

“Y’know… if you’re feeling sick I can get Brayden to cover your shift.” Stone whispered.

Brayden was the only other employee of The Mean Bean. He worked there before Stone owned it. But Brayden was the only employee that Stone didn’t fire after he took over. (after he accused the previous owner of money laundering and got her locked up)

Shadow quickly shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Stone sighed, showing his dissatisfaction at Shadow’s response. Stone shuffled his feet, glancing around the shop. “You know, you could talk about it, if you wanted to." Stone tried to be subtle about his suggestion. Stone failed.

Shadow shot him a glance, his gaze narrowing into a glare and he felt like throwing Stone out the window. Shadow refrained from doing so since Stone had taken him in and given him a job. "I'm not here for therapy.”

“I get it. I do,” Stone held up his hands in a mock surrender and backed away from Shadow. "I don’t know what you're thinking about, or if anything at all." Shadow really wanted to just walk away. “But you’ve got a fresh start, kid. Even if it feels like you’re passing or wasting time, this is a chance to get away from whatever put you in that alleyway”

What put Shadow in that alleyway was the rain. Shadow had been hiding in a trash bin to cover from the night when Stone found him.

So technically that made no sense.

But Stone constantly drew his ex that disappeared off the planet on customer's coffee’s everyday and cried about how much he missed the guy so he never made any sense. Shadow was pretty sure Stone was going insane too…

“...Okay?” Shadow had no idea what to say to any of that.

Stone just nodded awkwardly and took a step back, still staring at Shadow. “Okay… okay” He kept staring at the hedgehog till the bell at the door rang and a customer walked in.

Weirdo.

“Oh, fuck” Stone sighed.

Now Shadow just had to turn and see what customer managed to make Stone curse with their mere presence. Either to thank them for helping him escape the awkward conversation or give them a kick to the face.

“What's up, Stone!”

Shadow would be annoyed too if someone walked in with that much energy at 11:23 in the morning. But he would be annoyed if anyone came in with that much energy at any time so who was he to be talking?

“Wade,” Stone greeted through gritted teeth, putting a smile on his face.

Wade Whipple was apparently a regular at The Mean Bean, much to Stone’s dismay. Shadow wondered if he would end up having to suffer the same fate as Stone: Having to serve Wade Whipple a coffee with copious amounts of sugar.

Stone had given Shadow an entire tutorial on how to make Wade’s concerning order without killing the man or dissatisfying him on his first day.

Wade walked up to the counter with a blindingly bright smile on his face. “Got an important case to solve today!” he announced proudly. Now that interested Shadow. As far as he knew, Green Hills was a quiet town with little to no crime at all.

“Three donuts went missing from my desk this morning!” Oh , way to disappoint! 

This was obviously not worth Shadow’s time. The espresso machine was in need of cleaning, and much more worthy of his time.

Stone forced a smile, he forced it so much you could tell he was forcing it. “Let me guess. Large coffee, and a ton of extra sugar?”

Wade obviously didn’t notice. “You know it!” Wade smiled so much it was starting to concern Shadow. “Oh, and throw in one of those muffins! I’ve been craving one since Friday” It was Tuesday… Why didn’t he just go to the store? Were the Mean Bean’s pastries that good?

Stone barely had time to start Wade’s coffee order before the doorbell chimed again. Shadow was gonna have to serve that customer… he crossed his fingers and prayed they wouldn’t be as energetic as Wade.

“Morning, Wade!” the man greeted, his tone casual as he approached the counter.

Well he technically wasn’t as bad!

The sigh Stone let out told Shadow that the guy definitely was.

Shadow wondered if quitting on the spot would be rude. He decided it probably was and turned around.

A man in a sheriff uniform walked up to the counter and stood besides Wade. The name ‘Wachowksi’ was on the right side of his uniform. He looked normal, not that interesting, and the soft smile on his face looked normal compared to Wade. He didn't look like a strict cop, but he wasn't as sunshine and rainbows as Wade.

“Ah! Tom! I’ve got a case for you!” Shadow desperately hoped it would be more interesting. “Donuts! Three stolen right off my desk!” Goddamnit.

"You sure it wasn't you that ate them-"

Shadow hopped up onto his stepping stool and waited for the two to finish talking. “Oooo! Another alien hedgehog!” Wade whispered.

… Another?

Shadow resisted the urge to tilt his head and ask about that. But instead, he looked Tom dead in the eye and asked, “What would you like to order?”

To say the sheriff was dumbfounded was an understatement.

Tom just blinked at him for a few moments before he shook his head. His mouth hung open for a moment before he spoke. “Oh, uhm… just coffee, black” He said before quickly going back to staring at Shadow and recovered just as quick. “Thanks”

Shadow nodded before hopping off the stool.

“He looks like Sonic, but dark and edgy with gay highlights...” Wade failed to whisper quietly. “You think he knows him?”

Sonic must be the other hedgehog!

“Isn’t it wrong to think all alien hedgehogs know each other?”  

Shadow really wanted to laugh, but I’d reveal he was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“I mean… aliens coming here is basically normal after Tails and Knuckles dropped by.” Tom laughed quietly. 

So there are other aliens on the planet besides me and Sonic!

“Right, right, right” Wade nodded in understanding, bowing his head slightly before quickly bouncing back. “He’s all dark and broody though, nothing like Sonic… bet they'd be best friends!” 

Shadow did not like where that was going.

“You should bring Sonic here! I bet he’d explode just seeing another hedgehog around!” 

Tom chuckled lightly. “I don’t think Sonic needs any more explosions in his life. And knowing him, he’d probably run around the room and talk a mile to the guy.”

Wade clasped his hands together as if the idea thrilled him. “Exactly! Imagine how happy he’d be! Sonic’s like your son dude! You should want him to have friends he relates to! It’d be so good for him!” 

Shadow wanted to think something mean about that, but he was starting to wonder if it’d be good for him too.

Stone handed Wade his coffee and muffin. “Will that be all today?”

“Oh, yeah! Thanks!” Wade was smiling brightly again before he turned back to Tom. “Just saying! I think their friendship would be mind blowing dude!”

Tom just nodded along. “Yeah, yeah”

Shadow saw the opportunity to step back onto his stool and slide Tom’s coffee over to him. 

“Shouldn’t you get back to working on your… donut case?” Tom asked. Is he trying to get rid of Wade?

Wade’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Oh crap! I totally forgot about that.” Wade rushed out the door. Shadow was kind of sad to see him go since now he wouldn’t be able to find out much about that other hedgehog.

“So… new to Green Hills?”

Shadow looked up at Tom. “Yes” he said in the most monotone voice he could muster. Shadow was fighting the urge to ask a million questions about the man's alien hedgehog son.

“Don’t know if you heard, but my kid, Sonic—” Tom cut off mid-sentence when he looked back and Shadow’s pupils dilated in what was probably excitement, his tail wagging behind him. “...Sonic, he’s also a hedgehog, not from earth… and he's... blue”

“I’ve heard.” Shadow replied, trying to sound monotone and bored but the slight tightness in his voice betrayed his interest. Shadow hadn’t heard anything about the hedgehog before, but the idea of him was enough to have Shadow captivated.

Tom smiled at him. “Well, nice to meet you! I gotta head back to the station now!” Tom took his coffee and left.

Shadow only watched him leave.

“What do you know about Sonic?”

Stone blinked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “The Hedgehog?” He asked, even though there was no one else Shadow would be asking about.

Shadow nodded up at him, now that they were in the privacy of Stone’s apartment. Shadow wasted no time in getting to the point, as soon as the door shut it was time to interrogate Stone.

“He’s… a hedgehog” Shadow, ever patient and kind, resisted the violent urge to punch Stone to the moon. “Uhm… he’s fast, like stupidly fast” Shadow ran to his bedroom and rushed back with a notebook and pencil in hand to write that down. 

Stone gave him a funny look, so Shadow glared at him to continue. “Uhm… He never shuts up, he’s ridiculously optimistic, annoyingly energetic…”

Shadow nodded along as he frantically scribbled the words down. He muttered to himself as he wrote, “Talkative…. Optimistic… energetic…”

Stone laughed. “Is he not your type?”

Shadow ignored the comment and watched Stone as he sat down on the couch. “Tell me more about him” Shadow didn’t demand it this time, his voice softer and his tone sounded almost pleading .

Well Stone couldn’t say no to him now… 

“He lives with The Wachowski’s, Tom and his wife, Maddie” Stone began, holding up two fingers to count. “Then there's Tails, he’s a yellow alien fox with two tails, he makes gadgets and stuff”

Shadow continued to nod and mutter. “Residence: Wachowski household. Family: Tom, Maddie, Tails” he looked back up at Stone to continue.

Stone momentarily wondered if he should be concerned but decided this was totally normal. “Then there’s Knuckles, believe it or not the guy came to Earth to kill him! But Sonic forgave him! Now he’s part of the family!”

Shadow froze in his scribbling, mind bouncing back and forth between wondering how Sonic could be so forgiving and how anyone would ever want to kill him?

Did Sonic have some super secret super dark backstory?

Shadow wrote that theory down in an instant.

“You know, for someone who pretends to be all disinterested… You’re really into this.”

Shadow shot him a glare but didn’t deny it, because he was very interested. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

Stone scratched his chin and went quiet to go deep into his thoughts. Shadow held his breath as he slowly leaned in closer to hear what the man would say.

“He’s like a hero to the people of Green Hills,” Shadow wasted no time in writing that down. “He helps the people here out of the good of his heart, just to be a hero… y’know?” 

“A hero… selfless… kind…” Shadow muttered.

“He, Knuckles, and Tails are kind of like a team now, they work with G.U.N to keep the world safe.” Shadow was quickly alarmed by that. “Not for them, but with them, they’re not assets or anything.”

Shadow wrote that down.

Shadow looked back up at Stone, that same hopeful glint in his eyes. Shadow was smiling.

It made Stone want to smile so bad. When he first met Shadow, he was like a dirty stray cat, out in the back alley of the Mean Bean hiding in trash cans. Maybe helping Shadow learn more about Sonic wouldn’t be so bad considering it made him smile. 

There was a childlike gleam in his eyes when he smiled.

Gosh Stone was really starting to get attached

Stone shifted in his seat and looked at Shadow, that familiar teasing glint back in his eyes. "I didn't know you were such a fan of Sonic, is he your new hero?"

Shadow's face flushed slightly, caught completely off guard by the teasing, but he kept his cool, trying to brush off the question. "I wouldn’t say that..." he muttered, eyes darting around. He hated to admit how much he was beginning to care about someone he didn’t even know.

Stone smiled at him, because he knew exactly what Shadow was feeling. “He’s interested in meeting new people, especially people like him. As soon as Tom opens his mouth about you he’ll be running to say hi.”

Shadow’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say that?!” He yelled, frantically flipping pages and writing notes at top speed. “What am I supposed to say to him if he shows up! I need to prepare! What if he shows up Tomorrow? I need to brush my quills! Do you know his favorite food? Maybe I should make him some food as a... friendship gift! Yeah that, now do I decorate the Mean Bean for his arrival...” Stone tuned out at that because he was not looking forward to any other ideas Shadow might have.

Stone was beginning to wonder if Shadow was a teenage girl in disguise.

Note: Only posting this on tumblr in-case ppl from ao3 like it here more... also cuz I wanna post updates n funny shit

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House. 

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob. 

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. 

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed. 

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious. 

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded. 

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine. 

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts. 

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night. 

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes. 

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around. 

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence. 

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.” 

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.  

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket. 

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side. 

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien. 

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head. 

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.” 

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space. 

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed. 

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold. 

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information. 

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.” 

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.  

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush. 

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air. 

What have I done? 

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both. 

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come. 

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.  

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down. 

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous. 

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?” 

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger. 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words. 

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.” 

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.” 

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.” 

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed. 

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond. 

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.” 

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.” 

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

[tonberry-yoda]

FALL EVENTTTT!!!!!!

This is such a cute idea aughhh i love it

Could I request caught in the rain with Zoro????

tysm<333333

Caught in the Rain - Zoro 🎃

notes - AHHHHH THANK YOU! I was super excited about this when I saw a list of prompts and was like omfg yes I need to do that! And what a cute idea!! I love writing for Zoro and I just haven't done it in a really long time!! Thanks so much and have a seriously awesome day!! <3 word count - 387

It was normal that Zoro got the two of you lost on walks. And it was always normal that you followed him for some reason. It was totally on you that you guys were out in the middle of no where, surrounded by golden leaves and dark skies.

"I think it's going to rain, Zoro." you said, squeezing his arm.

You got nothing but a grunt in response.

"Just let me lead," you finally said. "You can't find anything for the life of you."

"It's not my fault." he pouted.

"It literally is your fault!" You wanted to be upset, but there was really no point in doing it since 1. you were used to it and 2. it wouldn't help find the way.

So you took a deep breath and tried to get your bearings.

Which, of course, was interrupted by a raindrop landing on your forehead.

You prayed that it was just one and kept moving, holding Zoro's hand so he wouldn't get any more lost than the two of you were.

But more came.

And more.

And soon, it was downpouring.

You wanted to be upset, you really did, but when you looked around at the rain falling on the leaves above, smelled the fresh rain air, and saw Zoro smiling at the sky, you couldn't help but smile.

"We'll find our way," you sighed, wiping some water away from Zoro's eyes. "But we gotta figure out how to get out of the rain first."

Zoro kept his eyes on the sky with a smile. "I don't mind being in the rain."

"But you'll catch a cold." You grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"That's what Chopper's for."

"Working the poor little reindeer too the bone, now, are we? I'm just saying, let's get back so we can-"

As you started to walk away, you felt Zoro's hand on yours. You looked at him, who was soaked with rainwater and blinking the water out of his eyes.

"You look pretty in the rain." he said.

You froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead before trying to lead you both out of the rain.

"Zoro?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me to never let you lead us anywhere ever again."

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[stanchett]

Hey, I saw your post about requests and I wanted to ask if I could request a fic with Larissa and f reader. Reader is very shy about Larissa and Larissa thinks she is trying to hide something (maybe that she is up to no good) but in reality reader is just trying to hide her massive crush on Larissa? thank you <33

Thanks so much for the prompt!! I hope this is alright :)

AO3 Link

Nervous

1.4k words

Larissa Weems made you nervous. That much was obvious, if only to you. Every time you passed her in the hallway, you all but held your breath until you were safely several paces past her. Especially when her choice in perfume made your head spin anytime you got a whiff. It didn’t help when she stared you down as you passed, almost like she could sense something was off about you. Her kind eyes and sweet smile kept her speculation guarded, however, so you never caught on that it hurt her feelings when you would hardly look her way.

----------

Being the newest hire at Nevermore, you knew your 90-day review was coming up, and quickly. You practically counted the days on your calendar, both eager and overwhelmingly anxious to have any sort of one-on-one time with the principal. She made your hands clammy, your voice shake and your thoughts clouded. You couldn’t help yourself. From the moment your interview for the position began, you knew you would be head-over-heels for the statuesque woman who now haunted your dreams in the best way.

Your review was 3 days away when you got an email from Principal Weems, reminding you to be in her office on Tuesday at 8am sharp. Your heart dropped, wondering if you should reply or just show up at her door when the time came. Tapping your pen on your desk, you decided on a curt reply of, “I’ll be there!!” and prayed your nervousness didn’t translate through the screen. As your students filed into the classroom for the day’s lesson on Outcast History, you dismissed the message from your mind and shut your laptop, picking up a green dry-erase marker. “Textbooks open to chapter 3 please! Let’s begin..” Your students listened with poorly-disguised disinterest as you outlined the coming chapter for them, your heart beating in time with the ever-ticking clock in the corner of the room.

The next day and a half passed you by in a blur. It was Monday night and you were depleted from the day you had; a typical Monday, your least favorite day of the week, the only exception being your confrontation with the principal thanks to a few students who made it their goal to disrupt the class and make your afternoon a living hell. You didn’t enjoy punishing your students, but you couldn’t help replaying that portion of the day in your head.

----------

After a sudden outcry from the back row of the classroom, you stood from your seat and scanned the students along the wall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, aside from a clearly panicked young girl with her knees squeezed to her chest at her desk. Three boys were giggling under their breaths, and out of the corner of your eye you spotted a charcoal-colored spider scurrying into a crack in the floor. You took a deep breath and asked your teaching assistant to take charge of the lesson; you had no choice but to escort the troublemakers to the principal’s office. “You three, come with me. Let’s pay a visit to Principal Weems, shall we?” The deviants’ snickering quickly subsided as they gathered their belongings and trudged down the halls behind you, a small sense of relief overcoming you in knowing they couldn’t see the flush already coming over your cheeks at the thought of being in the presence of your crush.

You stopped at the looming set of mahogany doors before you, almost hesitating to knock. Shaking off your nerves, you tapped your knuckles against the wood. A soft “Come in,” resounded from the other side, and you pried a door open to find Larissa typing away on her laptop. Peering over the screen, a smile spread across her features, and you thought you would melt on the spot. Reeling in your feelings for the principal, you motioned for the delinquents to follow after you into the room. The last of the three tried to turn heel and run, but you quickly grabbed him by the backpack and dragged him in behind the others. The stunt pulled you back to reality as well. You cleared your throat as the group of you approached Weems’ desk, their heads all hung in shame. 

“Maybe you three would like to explain to Principal Weems why you think it’s appropriate to conjure spiders and harass your fellow classmates in the middle of a lesson instead of paying attention.” The principal’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, this being the first incident since your start at Nevermore. She looked to you, then to the young offenders, then back to you. 

After a long silence, one of them piped up, “We were just messing around.. We’re sorry,” followed by a chorus of apologies from the others. The principal, satisfied with their remorse, folded her hands on her desk and addressed the students directly. 

“Very well, you three will be serving detention with Ms. Y/L/N tomorrow afternoon. Please return to class and do your best to behave.” You turn to leave with them, more than ready to release the breath you had been holding since entering her office. “Miss Y/L/N, might I have a word with you?” You felt your blood run cold. She wanted to speak to you. Alone. You had been mentally preparing for your meeting in a day’s time, but her sudden request caught you off guard. You swallowed and turned back to her, avoiding her gaze. 

“Yes Principal Weems?” She stood from her place at her desk, carefully pacing around to its front where she leaned back against it and crossed her arms only a few feet from you. 

“Is there a particular reason you’ve been avoiding me as of late? Myself and the rest of the staff have been nothing but accommodating to you, and yet I get the sense that, perhaps, it isn’t enough. Am I wrong?” A concerned expression crosses her features, and you feel your heart break into a million pieces. You never meant to come across that way. You only wanted to keep your distance due to your shyness - and massive crush - and she interpreted it as you being standoffish. “Or perhaps.. There’s something you’re keeping from me?”

You hesitantly took a step forward, “N-no Ms. Weems, I don’t mean to come off that way at all!!” You spoke with your hands, as though they would help you verbally defend yourself, “I’ve just been.. Focused on my work, that’s all. I’m still adjusting to my new schedule and surroundings, it’s nothing personal.” You let out a nervous laugh. You couldn’t tell her the truth, she couldn’t know about how you practically fell in love with her the first time you set eyes on her. In a sudden burst of confidence from your false confession, you took the risk of letting your eyes wander up her figure, taking in her curves and porcelain skin. Her long fingers gripping her biceps in anticipation of your excuse. You flushed when you reached her eyes, already glued to you with an eyebrow raised in a silent question. She saw you check her out. You contemplate jumping out the nearest window when she steps forward and gestures to the door, implying you follow her.

“Thank you for easing my worries, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m glad we were able to clear things up between us,” she rests her hand on the knob, turning toward you to tower over you only inches away, her perfume invading your senses, “Oh, and Y/N?” You shyly look up at her through your eyelashes, embarrassment still written all over your face. Your name sounded heavenly on her lips. She leans down to your ear, her breath ghosting over its shell causing you to shiver. You hope to god she doesn’t notice. “See you tomorrow,” she whispers, her husky voice low enough for only you to hear. Pulling away with a knowing smirk, she opens the door to release you. Stumbling past its frame, you fail to notice the way she watches your backside as you all but run down the hallway. You’re too busy trying not to faint on your way back to your now-empty classroom.

[dominimoonbeam]

hi domini! im a big fan of your writing and have read every one of your redacted fics, you are incredibly talented and with each fic you upload you never fail to amaze me and lead me into a deeper obsession with your work

this is just a fic request! no pressure to write this any time soon, or at all, especially with your new job and moving day soon! my request is:

david/darlin neighbour au? like david always giving darlin leftovers because he "cooked too much food" for the 50th night in a row

again, you don't have to write this, especially with how i didn't give you much to work with lol. i just thought of it and would love to see you write it! good luck with your moving day soon, im so excited to see the pictures and so happy for you! have a great week and sorry for the long message <3

Anon, thank you so much for this!

I know it's been so long since you sent me these incredibly kind words and this ask and I haven't written any fics in that time. This was such a great way to get back into the characters and the fun of working on fics. I hope you enjoy this starter and know that your words really meant a lot. Thank you!

Neighbor AU.

Darlin/David

I will absolutely be posting this on ao3 soon and hopefully adding more to it. <3 <3

It started in the laundry room.

They’d been living in the same building, on the same floor, in the same corridor for the last year but never spoken—not until that evening in the laundry room.

David was putting a load in when the other tenant came downstairs, no basket in hand, just an armful of t-shirts, underwear, and towels. He tried not to watch but it was impossible. He’d caught plenty of glimpses of them over the months, in the hall and on the elevator. They were a storm wearing skin and a leather jacket.

With a huff, they crammed the ball of fabric into a machine and then peeled their shirt off and kicked off their boots, huffing annoyance as they unbuttoned and squirmed out of their jeans.

There was no way they thought they were alone in the room. David was not the sort of man that went unnoticed. He slammed the lid on his machine just in case.

The other tenant pulled their phone from the pocket of their jeans along with a wad of cash, and put it down to the side before closing the machine.

David raised an eyebrow and looked at them, really looked at them, wearing nothing but underwear and stepping back into their boots. They were lanky, all muscle and bruises. One hand rubbed the back of their head, ruffling their hair while jabbing the buttons to start the machine. “What?” they snapped, not even looking at him.

Their knuckles were raw and bloody and their side looked splotchy, like those ribs would be bruised tomorrow.

“Bad day?” David asked the scrapper.

They huffed again, this time grinning and turning enough to look at him. They had blood on their teeth and in their hair. “Nope.” They picked up their phone and the crumpled bills, both of them walking out of the laundry room and down the long hall to the elevator.

David followed them into the lift and waited. They jabbed the button for their floor.

They both walked down the hall, almost together.

The scrapper peeled off first at their door, only a handful of steps before David’s. They shared a wall. He only realized they weren’t carrying keys when they opened their apartment door. They hadn’t even locked it.

What a mess, he thought with a smile.

He saw them again when he was on his way to the basement to move his laundry to the dryer. They had showered and were wearing a pair of sweatpants.

They leaned against the dryer after starting it and watched him, not unlike how he’d watched them when they were stripping down an hour ago.

David let them. He’d called most people out on eyeing him in his life but this seemed like fair turn around. They started their machines and took the hall together again. This time, in the elevator, their stomach growled.

The scrapper rolled their eyes like it was a familiar nag and not a biological function reminding them of hunger.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it. He wasn’t exactly known for making the first move in making friends. “Do you like enchiladas?!

The door plinged when it opened and their neighbor looked over their shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. The brow was split by an old scar. “What?”

“I made enchiladas yesterday. It’s too much. Do you want some?”

They were walking again, both of them moving a little slower than usual down the hall toward their doors. “Is that your way of inviting me in?”

He snorted. “I’m not inviting you in. You’ll get blood on my rug. I’m asking if you want some of the leftovers.”

Their smirk sharpened. “Do you think I don’t have food?”

He bit back a laugh, suddenly willing to bet their fridge was empty. “Forget I asked.”

They were at their door but paused.

He felt their gaze on him, considering him. He unlocked his apartment and was one step in when they suddenly said, “Okay.”

He looked back at them, standing in the hallway outside their door. They looked unsure and suddenly younger, softer. He could see the echo of what he imagined they’d been like as a kid, before they got tough. He nodded. “I’ll grab you a plate.” He held out his hand. “My name’s David.”

Their gaze flicked to his hand like trust didn’t come naturally, but they closed the distance and took it. “Darlin.”

He smiled before he could catch himself.

Luckily, they smiled back. “I know. Either my parents had a really different idea for who I’d be or they were assholes.”

David shrugged, dropping their hand after maybe a second too long of holding it to duck inside and make his way for the kitchen. “Maybe it suits you,” he said.

Darlin laughed, leaning against his open doorway. He didn’t mind if they came inside but he wasn’t sure they were willing to. Interesting. They’d leave their door unlocked but they weren’t quite ready to walk into a stranger’s apartment. “Yeah. Like calling someone tall Shorty.”

He laughed and pulled the dish out of the fridge. He cut a few enchiladas free and scooped them onto a plate. He would have wrapped it if he wasn’t sure they were going to eat it right away. He paused with it in hand and look at them. “Do you need to borrow a fork?”

Darlin’s expression bloomed in a huge grin. “Fuck you,” they laughed, holding out a hand for the food.

He crossed his apartment to put it in their hand. “See you around, Darlin,” he said.

They nodded, still smiling when they walked back to their place and inside.

David thought about that smile and that laugh all day afterward and the next time he saw them in the hall they talked more and Darlin had him wait in the hall to bring him the plate. They’d even washed it and promised they’d used soap and not just licked it clean. He tried to ignore the jolt that mental imagine sent through his whole body, but something about the way they bit their smile suggested they’d seen it too.

[bedtimescenarios]

The Highway

Based on this trope that I posted about recently: Whumpee having to pretend that Whumper is their friend, lover, etc. around other people . . .

CW: Kidnapping, injuries, mention of death, blood, non-con touch (not sexual), implied torture, and I think that's all:)

Whumpee panted, clutching the side of their abdomen. They gently lifted up their shirt, wincing as their knuckles brushed against broken, bruised ribs. The pain was intensifying with every step, and their skin was turning purple in too many places. But they couldn't stop. Not now, not when they were so close.

So, despite the stinging pain, they started running again.

They had reached the highway a while ago. At first, they'd been thrilled. It was something they didn't think they'd see again after being stranded in that facility in the heart of the forest for so long. No cars had passed by, which they were thankful for. They didn't want last year's incident to repeat.

Suddenly, the memories flooded their brain. That same highway. Them running, the car stopping to help them. Then, the screaming, the blood. Oh, God, all that blood..

"Please, don't! They're innocent!", they had begged.

To which, Whumper had simply responded: "You brought this onto them."

Those poor people didn't have to die. Death was their reward for being selfless, for trying to help Whumpee.

They still saw the couple whenever they closed their eyes, haunting their dreams as well as their waking life. If only...

They flushed the memories out of their head. Right now, they couldn't afford the guilt swallowing them whole. The only important thing was finding a police station. They sprinted along the highway, ignoring the painful feeling in their limbs. It was definitely less painful than what Whumper would do to them if they were caught, and they were aware of the closing distance between them. Their heart hammered in their chest, their breaths shallow, as whenever they took a full breath in, it almost felt like their ribs were being broken all over again. Run, Whumpee, they tried to motivate themselves. Keep running, or-

"There you are."

Whumpee's heart dropped. Their head whirled around, glancing at Whumper with wide eyes. He wasn't that close, but he wasn't far enough either. If they ran slower, he'd catch up with them.

How much could they keep the pace in their condition? Not long, they supposed.

They thought about venturing into the forest, but Whumper most certainly knew it better than they did. Whumper thought this was all a game, anyway. The highway held their best chance, which was still slim. But hope - it clung onto them like a virus. So they kept running.

At least, until they heard a car honk.

Please, just go. Drive further. Don't look at me, Whumpee pleaded in their head.

"Hey, you there!" A young man's voice echoed.

Shit. Whumpee's heartbeat was going crazy. It would've been better if they'd just died in that facility. Now, this clueless man was at risk. They couldn't let him find anything out unless they wanted him dead. They had to pretend...

They slowed down, put on a joyful face, trying to mask how scared they really were. As they turned, they glimpsed the car, a blonde-haired head sticking through a window. As he pulled over, Whumpee took a few deep breaths. They smiled at the passer-by.

For a second, their smile turned into a wince as they felt Whumper's arms wrap around their waist. The man didn't seem to notice, though, as he just stepped out of the car. Whumpee sunk their fingers into Whumper's arms, trying to mask their shaking.

"Hi, can we help you?" They said.

The blonde walked closer to them, a smile on his face. His eyes betrayed him, full of suspicion and doubt.

"Are you all right?" He addressed Whumpee directly.

Whumper's arms tightened around their body. A warning. Perhaps a reminder. Whumpee tried to seem confused by his question. "Of course I am, why would you ask that?"

"Well-" He quickly glanced at Whumper, "-I saw you running, and I was just.."

"Oh, don't worry!" Whumpee said cheerfully. "I'm just on a run with my boyfriend."

Whumper propped his head on Whumpee's shoulder, making them tense up. When the man's wary expression didn't change, they added: "You know that marathon, the one that's gonna take place in Queens next week?"

He visibly relaxed at the familiarity. "Yeah, you training for it?"

"Yep", Whumper responded, and Whumpee felt them grin. "We're pretty competitive, ya' know?"

Whumpee hated how casual this conversation had become. They wanted to just break down, beg for the man to help them. But they knew better.

"Yeah, I got you. Me and my wife are participating as well!" The man leaned on his car door. "She's wanting to keep fit with our 2nd baby on its way."

Whumpee gulped, but their mouth remained in a smile. "Congratulations!" They said, and the man nodded in gratitude.

"Well, we'll look forward to seeing you there." Whumpee said, silently begging all the deities they believed in to just have the man, the husband, the father, on his way as soon as possible.

"Yeah, us too!" He grinned, getting in his car and turning the key into the ignition. "Have a good day!"

It worked. Whumpee thought. At least he's safe.

"You too!" Whumper smiled, and as the man drove away, they added: "I know I surely will."

At least he's safe, Whumpee repeated in their head, trying to reassure themselves.

As soon as the car was out of sight, Whumpee dropped their act, their eyes teary. But Whumper stayed there, in the same position, his arms tightening even more around Whumpee, who just squeezed their eyes shut at the intensifying pain in their ribs.

Whumper leaned in and whispered in their ear. "I see you've learned. At least, now, the only one who's getting hurt is you."

[ch0wen]

I saw your post with the girl on the bed wearing sunglasses with the caption “y’all want anything from me?” And first of all that made me smile so thank you. Second Tan and Reader cuddles? I’m a sucker for physical intimacy.

“And then that stupid git wouldn’t let him go. So, I had to force his arms to release Lemon with a tire iron,” Tangerine rubbed his callused hands over his exhausted face as his lips curled into a smirk,

“Lem, told me the guy’s right forearm broke in three different places.”

You’re sat on the edge of your shared bed, raking your fingers over his bare thigh as he catches you up on his day. This has become a nightly affair for you and Tangerine. It's a way to make up for lost time by sitting together and talking over little accomplishments or big complications that may have occurred during your shifts. Tangerine always has more of the latter; Seemingly never skimping on the gory details. When it's your turn to speak, he sits close and listens intently to your stories. Even if you think your job as a teacher is comparably not as thrilling.

And although his body is visibly exhausted after his outings, he still listens attentively and offers advice. He likes these spoken reminders that you are not in danger while he’s away. He wants to know you have some normalcy when he faces chaos during his nine-to-five.

“It sounds like you did what you needed to do,” your hand gently caresses his face then brushes the hair away from his hooded eyes as he lays back. His skin slightly pink; Freshly scrubbed from his post-work shower.

“You did great, as always. Now please rest up, honey.”

Wearily, he hums in agreement. His hand grasps for yours before kissing your knuckles,

“Tell that little shit Frankie to start listening during the maths lesson or I’ll give him a good spook at recess.”

You giggle, “He’s five, Tan.”

His eyes are now closed but a playful smirk stays spread across his lips.

You take this quiet beat to rise off the bed and provide him with his much-needed rest. Your finger applies a bit of pressure to the light switch,

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Come back. Stay with me for a moment. I’ve been surrounded by lunatics today. I need some familiarity.”

You’re now snuggling into Tangerine’s muscular and warm arms. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Breathing you in deeply before letting out a content-sounding sigh.

“Better?”

“Much,” he squeezes you impossibly closer. His chest gradually rising and falling. You angle your head so it’s not pressed into his armpit and reach up to stroke his hair. He mewls a bit before his hold loosens; not letting you go but giving a sign that he has fallen asleep.

[zuumiitm]

My Sonic Teams (1)

Hey, what do people think of odd team-ups like Blaze, Sticks, and, Bunnie [Sonic Heroes fan team-up]? I've always wanted honest feed back on these team combinations but never really got a good amount and would love to see the opinions on them! I have been having a hard time finding good amounts of feedback or places to have further discussions [I am a small acc so that's a given] but does anyone wanna give their honest thoughts?

Team Paramount: [Blaze, Sticks, Bunnie]

Tried to find good parallels to Team Primary[Team Sonic] with already existing characters . Sticks being more similar to Sonic and Blaze more similar to Tails, Bunnie being more mature and motherly as opposed to being more naive and brotherly like Knuckles, the gals set on specific goals rather than have danger come their way [Sonic's team usually has danger come their path and that's the next adventure their dealing with], Blaze met Sticks the same way Tails met Sonic and both girls met Bunnie when fighting Blaze's equivalent to Eggman.

I chose Sticks instead of keeping Marine because I think Sticks would fit better in Blaze's world instead of Sonic's. I also believe her personality would better bounce off someone like Blaze who is usually uptight and Sticks who is very free spirited and unhinged but also kinda uptight in her ways of viewing the world [or well, more paranoid than anything] but Sticks' overall kindhearted, blunt, and fearless personality is why Blaze loves her dearly and cherishes her as someone who saw her as a friend and not princess. Sticks' could care less about such titles so long as you aren't trying to suck her brains out for some weird science experiment. [I'd also like to add that Marine is very much still in the picture, just not in the main team dynamic. She's now Stick's adopted lil sister. How she came to raise her is similar to how Tails and Sonic met in the old Sonic The Hedgehog cartoons!]

Bunnie was roboticized by their version of Eggman and suffered a great deal of self-hatred thanks to it. While she doesn't regret doing what she did that led up to it, that being saving her smaller siblings, she hated how she was now essentially "a freak" and felt more alone than she did before the tragic event. How she overcame it was before meeting the other two, but they did help solidify her new found strength withing herself. Her family helped her overcome her loss, and facing her new life and reminded her that she still speaks, acts, fights, and loves like their Bunnie, and no change in her body removes such core aspects of herself. So when she ends up fighting side by side Blaze and Sticks, those reassurances couldn't be anymore evident. The girls help remind her of her strength and determination each time she feels any different, and so, their bond grew stronger and stronger.

So what do you guys think? Is it sound? I'd like to see how people think of some of the ideas I've come up with! ^^ If there are any oddities that people wanna ask about, please let me know! I also have an idea for who Blaze's Eggman would be but I wanna make that a separate post! Hopefully this catches your eye and that many of the things I've listed intrigue you enough to ask questions!