#the thing that bothers me the most is the constant up-down up-down state of my mood

[misskamelie]

Feeling absolutely terrible, I think I could feel better if I cried, but I can't even do that. That's great 👍

[entitled-fangirl]

A good father.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader

Summary: fatherhood is different than what Gwayne expected. Daeron worries that it will be the same as Otto and Gwayne's relationship.

A/n: so I saw that this was the most voted for the poll so far, so I just decided to write it today! Surprise!

Masterlist

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Otto Hightower had returned to Old Town only days ago, and things could not have been more awkward.

Well, not for Gwayne.

That cocky little shit just said everything that came to mind.

It seemed he liked to battle his father.

…

"Daeron?" Her soft voice came over the yard.

Young Daeron sat in the garden of Old Town, a frown upon his face. But at the sound of her voice, he turned and his eyes brightened.

Y/n Hightower slowly walked to him. Five months had passed and finally, she was beginning to show the child that was growing inside her. And she seemed to glow all the more for it.

Daeron moved to the side of make room for her on the bench, as well as hold his hand out to her to help her sit.

"Something is bothering you." She stated and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear. 

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Daeron," she tried again softly.

She had a way with him. She never had to raise her voice to get her way, for everyone that heard the meek tone of her voice still listened and obeyed. 

"It's Grandsire," Daemon explained. "More… it's the constant bickering."

She nodded, running a hand through his hair affectionately. "Gwayne and his father have never seen eye to eye, not since Alicent became queen. They are just two very different men."

"Is that how all fathers and sons talk?"

She pulled his chin up to make his eyes meet hers, "No. Not all fathers and sons speak in ill regard of one another."

"What if he does it to his own son?"

Her brows furrowed, "What?"

"What if Gwayne speaks like that to the babe?" 

She just realized how his eyes glazed over with tears. "Oh, sweet boy." She pulled him to her. "Gwayne is a man with a temper, but he would not do that. There is a barrier between Gwayne and his father. One that cannot be fixed now, and only because of that do they fight."

Daeron considered her words for a while, "So, because there is no barrier with the babe-"

"-Gwayne will love this child with his entire being, I promise you."

She held him for a while, promising to talk to her husband about it later.

…

"Might I speak with you?" Her voice echoed out.

Gwayne turned slowly, his face lighting up at her sudden appearance. "You and I both know that you may."

A soft smile came to her lips as she walked to him, "I've missed you as of late."

His head tilted, "I've been here."

She rested her hands on his chest, "Yes, but your mind has been elsewhere."

One of his hands moved to her swollen stomach, "Very much so. My father has been occupying my attention." He scoffed thinking about it, "He's a foolish man."

Her hands rubbed soothingly across his chest. "Even now, you only think of him." She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, "Don't neglect your wife and future child to argue with your father."

He let out a soft sigh as her words broke his angered facade. "Forgive me."

"No." She leaned against him. "You need to apologize to Daeron."

"Daeron?" He asked in surprise. "Why Daeron?"

"He's worried for you. Well… for the child."

His eyes moved to her to stomach. "I don't understand. He has no reason to worry."

"He's seen the way you bicker with your father."

His hand rubbed up and down, "I'm still rather confused. What does my relationship with my father have to do with the child? Are you alright? Is the babe alright?"

She placed her hand over his, "I am fine."

He tilted his head in worry, "You're sure?"

"I am. Daeron is frightened that you'll speak to our child the way your father speaks to you."

A worried look came over his face, "I would never."

"I know that."

"I did not realize he noticed that."

"I told him I'd speak to you to reassure his worries."

He nodded and looked to her face. "Let me talk to him."

She nodded, "Alright. He should still be outdoors."

Gwayne placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll go now. Wait for me?"

She hummed a questioning noise, "What? Why?"

He grinned, "I want to make up for lost time when I return."

A blush came to her cheeks, "Do make it quick then."

He smoothed down her hair, "I shall."

…

"Come here, nephew."

Daeron looked up and saw his uncle. He stood and smoothed out his shirt. "Yes, uncle?"

He ruffled the boy's hair and smirked, "I've been told that you're worried about something."

A guilty look crossed the boy's face, "Aunt Y/n told you that?"

"She did. But I want to hear it from you." He pointed to the bench, "Sit." Gwayne sat next to him. "I understand that you worry about the way your grandsire and I speak to one another."

Daeron nodded, "You fight often."

"We do." He wanted to fully explain it all, but his nephew was still a child. "We do not… agree often. That is all."

"You and Aunt Y/n disagree often," he pointed out.

He realized the direction that the boy was going, and was earnestly trying to make him see his side. "I'd never speak negatively to that woman."

"But why is that different to Grandsire?"

"Well, I love my wife," he said immediately.

Daeron's eyes watered, "Do you not love Grandsire?"

"I…" he looked away in thought. "He is my father. Do you love your father, Daeron?"

"I believe I do," he answered. "But I do not know. I've lived here for almost my whole life. I don't know father well at all."

"May I tell you a secret? I do not know my father at all, either." Gwayne leaned back against the bench. "My father has always been in King's Landing with your father. Seems we're the same."

Daeron nodded, "I didn't… I didn't think about that."

Gwayne put a hand on Daeron's shoulder, "I will always stay by the babe's side. I will not part from my family."

The boy relaxed at that. He stared in thought, something clearly bothering him. "What is my mother like?"

Gwayne frowned, "W…What?"

"The queen. What is she like? Surely you know."

"Why not ask your Grandsire?"

"I don't know him well enough. I try to avoid him in all honestly. Is that wrong of me?"

Gwayne considered the thought. "I don't think so. I was very frustrated to see him return too."

The Targaryen prince stared up at his uncle, "Did he treat his wife poorly?"

Gwayne felt a smile come to his face at the mention of his mother. "No. No, he loved her very dearly, as I love my wife." He looked out over the garden. "And Alicent is much like your grandmother. Very headstrong but very kind, and as fiery as the Hightower hair. Or, at least… I think she is. She was." He turned to look at Daeron, "Do you wish to visit your mother at some point?"

"No. I'm content here."

"Are you?" A soft voice interrupted. 

Y/n approached the two, a slight waddle to her step due to her condition.

Gwayne stood up and held his arms out to her. When she was close enough, he helped her sit on the bench. 

She still looked to Daeron. "You're happy here?"

He nodded.

"I'm very glad," she smiled.

Gwayne knelt in front of the boy, "I promise to you that I will love my child unconditionally. Now, I want you to stop worrying. Will you do that?"

Daeron nodded again.

Y/n reached up to smooth the boy's hair, "And you'll still be loved the same when you have a cousin."

"You'll be an excellent cousin," Gwayne chipped in.

"I don't know how to do so. I… I am hardly a brother."

"Do not fret, Daeron. It will come to you naturally," she cooed.

…

A few months later, Daeron entered the couple's chambers in nervousness, eager to meet his cousin.

Gwayne sat against the headboard of the bed, his exhausted wife leaning against his chest. "Daeron?"

He looked up at his uncle, "Is she alright?"

Gwayne nodded and pulled her just a little closer. "She's perfect."

"And the babe?"

Gwayne looked across the room. 

Otto Hightower sat on the sofa across the room, the babe held securely in his arms. 

It was clear that there was a little tension between the two men.

Otto looked to Daeron, "C'mere."

Daeron walked to his grandsire curiously.

Otto lowered one shoulder to let Daeron see the babe. "A boy."

Daeron's eyes widened, "A boy?"

Gwayne spoke up, "Are you happy?"

He nodded immediately.

Y/n's eyes opened and she let out a groan.

Gwayne shifted her, getting her more comfortable. "Need something?"

"Wanna get up," she whispered. 

Gwayne looked at the others in the room, "Leave us."

Daeron nodded, leaving with the maester.

Otto wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't. He stood and went to put the babe down, but Gwayne spoke up, "Bring him here."

Y/n's eager arms took the child from Otto. 

Lord Hightower smiled softly, "You'll be a wonderful mother."

She grinned. "I hope so."

Otto then looked to Gwayne. He stared at him for a while. Gwayne was expecting an insult. 

"I was so scared the day you were born."

Gwayne was confused by the sudden confession. "What?"

"The day you were born. I remember the way my hands shook." He looked between the two, "Your mother was so confident."

"I heard she was wonderful," Y/n chirped in softly.

Otto nodded, "She was."

"Gwayne, I need to feed the babe."

Gwayne nodded. "I'll fetch the midwife to help you." He stood and led his father out.

The two walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, Otto spoke. "Your son will be a strong warrior."

"He will be. I'll be here to ensure it," Gwayne said bitterly.

Otto sighed. "We've never gotten along, I understand-"

"-No, you just weren't here."

"I was leading the realm," Otto tried to reason.

"You left," he grunted.

"I am still your father."

"No. Only by blood."

Otto scoffed, "Do not be weak."

"I will raise my son properly. I won't leave my child. And I won't leave my wife." Gwayne grunted. "Something you didn't do."

"Do you believe that I returned here only because I wished to?"

Gwayne stared at him for a while, "I… I do not pretend to understand your choices."

Otto took a step forward, "I was terrified the day you were born. I did not know how to be a father. I didn't have one long enough to learn from him."

Gwayne's head tilted, "And?"

"And…" Otto sighed as his frustration grew. "The king granted me a few months leave. Do you believe I just so happened to time out my arrival with end of your wife's condition and the months after?"

He crossed his arms in annoyance, "What are you saying? You wanted to be here? You wanted to see the child?"

"I WANTED TO SEE YOU!" Otto yelled. "YOU AND YOUR FOOLISH PRIDE!" He brought a hand to his forehead, "I remember the feeling of holding your first child. It is not easy to be a new father and to lead. I only wish to help you in the ways I know how."

"You came back for me?" He asked incredulously.

"Entirely," he admitted. "I see your mother in you. In every word, in every deed. Even in death, she haunts my narrative."

"Would you change your choices if you could restart?"

"Very much."

That was all Gwayne needed to hear. "We are both too stubborn for our own good."

"I want the best for you, Gwayne. I am sorry if I have never stated that. Your wife lives, as does your child. That is the greatest blessing that a man can receive."

"I am well aware," Gwayne smiled lightly. "I… I had to rule Old Town in your absence. I suppose it has been hard to step aside now that you've returned."

Otto smiled. "For now, I wish for you to tend to your family. Leave the rest to me."

Gwayne nodded, "I will." He turned to leave, but hesitated. "Father."

Otto's brows lifted.

Gwayne forced the words out, the feeling new. "Thank you."

Daeron had hidden around the corner, listening to the entire exchange.

…

"Do promise to write often," Y/n smiled as she held the small infant in her arms.

Otto strapped the last bag onto the horse, "I shall try."

She shifted the babe in her arms, "Gwayne has… spoken well of you, as of late." She smiled teasingly, "Do you know why?"

Otto faked a confused look. "Has he? Haven't the faintest idea."

"Well, know that he does. Perhaps he's only now respecting the challenge that fatherhood brings."

He grinned, "I will pray that your son is only half of the battle that Gwayne is."

She laughed, "He is a Hightower. We both know that a prayer like that is worthless. He will be a fighter until his dying day."

Gwayne walked to the pair, pulling his wife to his side, "When will you return?"

Otto shrugged, "When I am granted leave next. I am uncertain. Care for Daeron for me still."

The red head nodded, "You know I always will."

Y/n stepped forward and kissed Otto's cheek, "We shall await the day you return."

He looked at the two. The love they shared was obvious. "As do I."

He mounted his horse. 

Y/n muttered something about feeding the babe and excused herself, leaving Otto and Gwayne.

"And Gwayne? You're a good father."

He felt a small twist in his gut.

...............................................................

[hauntedhokage]

miscommunication

summary: Toge's been distant, you finally confront him to find out why

word count: 2.5k

warnings: explicit sexual content (minors dni), emotional conflict, Inumaki uses his cursed speech

note: for my beloved @silverrings-n-prettythings who drew some inspirational Inumaki art. Ily bbygirl

It felt like with every day that passed, he’d become more distant. Late nights that were once spent talking about the future, kisses exchanged between soft touches and other intimate gestures that replaced the words that he couldn’t use himself, turned into nights spent apart with you going to bed alone and waking up with cold sheets and a note. Did he love you anymore? You weren’t sure, and that uncertainty hurts more. The anxiety that came with waiting for that shoe to drop - waiting for the note written in his messy handwriting that tells you that he didn’t love you and wanted to separate. 

What would you do if it came to that? A life without him didn’t feel like something that you could do, considering the way he’d steadily been a constant in your life over the past year. Nobody made tea the way he did, or knew exactly how to scratch the itch at the base of your scalp when it was bothering you. Squeezes of your hand in his when you were feeling anxious, how it felt to be wrapped around him after a particularly rough mission - the despair you felt when he left, and the relief when he returned. 

These things all became constants, things you’d come to expect like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. Your sunrise was Inumaki Toge; morning, afternoon, midday and the evenings - but you’re worried that the sun was beginning to set on your relationship. You didn’t think it was fair for him to just distance himself, not even try to talk to you about what was bothering him that he’d feel the need to do this to you. Even with his limited verbal communication ability, you’d spend hours on the couch texting back and forth or learning sign language to develop something that was more efficient than texting and note writing. 

Tonight was worse than any other night, only because you’d had plans. Plans made in advance; plans to stay in and have a nice dinner, play some silly board and card games, and then cuddle up for a movie or two. Plans that he was now two hours late for, plans that had you sitting at a dinner table with two plates of a dinner that was a blend of his and your favorite dishes. Dinner that was now about as cold as you’re Toge felt about you, dinner that had you crying as you stood to pick up the plates that clearly wouldn’t be touched tonight. To punish yourself; you’d probably eat the leftovers for a couple days, reminding yourself that Toge would rather do anything but share a meal with you. 

The front door opening has you slamming the fridge shut, and you’re making eye contact with your boyfriend as he takes his shoes off. Your obvious emotional state has him immediately concerned, closing in on you to try and assess the situation until your hands smack him away to put some space between you both. 

“You don’t get to pretend to care after missing game night for the third week in a row.” Your statement has his eyes widening, phone coming out of his pocket while his other hand pulls his collar down. “Don’t even bother, Toge, I get it. You don’t love me anymore and you’re tired of pretending, so you don’t have to pretend anymore! And to think I started taking sign language classes just for you to…”

You turn away as his fingers start to rapidly tap against the screen, needing to clean up the table and finish cleaning the kitchen. The whole time, though, you can’t stop talking at him. Telling him that you know he thinks you’re more of a burden because you don’t have any cool talents like his, that you must be overbearing since you like to know his schedule, how awful you most be to be around that he never wants to be home when you are or spend time with you. Those kinds of things that you’re not even sure where it all had been bottled up but you do hear his frantic tapping behind you as he tries to respond only to have to pause, backspace a bunch, and type some more. 

You catch him gesturing, frantic “tuna, tuna” leaving him while he tries to show you his screen, but you keep your gaze fixed on the task before you because you fear that if you look at him you’ll start crying. You didn’t want to cry when you were trying to yell at him for putting off breaking up with you, that would make you look more pathetic to him than you’re sure you already did.

“Please stop.” 

Two words uttered so softly yet full of desperation have you freezing, though you’re sure even without the cursed speech you’d be frozen at the sound of Toge’s using words that weren’t his usual safe words. You’re afraid to even look at him, but you face that fear as you turn to face him and the phone extended towards you with a screen full of words intended for you to read. 

“Toge?”

“Please,” he whispers again, angling the phone towards you in a silent plea for you to take it and let him defend himself. You do; your fingers grazing against his as you take the device into you hand with your thumb tapping the screen out of habit to keep the screen awake. 

I love you so much. 

I’m so afraid that I’ll let something slip and hurt you by accident so I’ve been trying to stay away while figuring out words that can be safe for us to use together. 

Didn’t know that my distance would hurt you

I’m so sorry

“Toge,” you whisper, nearly dropping his phone in your rush to pull him into your arms. Tears burn at your eyes while you feel his dampen the skin of your neck, his arms tight around your waist to keep you pressed flush against him - as if you could be apart from him after this. “Don’t you ever try to hide from me again.”

“Salmon,” is mumbled into your neck, and you give your own nod before you pull back to kiss his cheek.  A kiss to your cheek becomes a kiss on your lips, Toge’s mouth carefully coaxing yours open to allow him the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You feel small shockwaves along your tongue as it brushes against his, the sensation caused by his cursed markings sorely missed by you in the period of distance he’d forced between you now a source of comfort and a reminder that he was with you again and just as desperate for your touch as you were for his with the way his mouth worked against yours. Your back hits something sturdy, you think it’s probably the fridge but don’t have time to think too much about it because Toge is bringing your leg up to rest on his hip to press the growing tent in his pants to your core in search of friction that would bring pleasure to you both. 

“T-Tore,” you breathe when he pulls back, watching as his eyes search the space beside your head for something while keeping himself pressed against you. When he finds it, he’s reaching for it, and you recognize that it’s one of the magnet strips with pre printed statements on it that he’d been searching for. This one had been originally something unimportant to your life with Toge, so you’d used a label maker to make it something that would have real purpose in your home.

Would you like to fuck? Stares at you in bold black font, the smiley face after bringing a smile to your own face as you take the magnet from him to slap on the fridge above your head before you’re kissing him again. It’s not a kiss that lasts long before he’s pulling away, slowly lowering himself to his knees before you and pulling at your pants and underwear as he goes. 

He only bothers to free one of your legs from its confinement, bringing it to rest over his shoulder so he could be close to your core, his eyes closing as he takes a deep inhale of your scent. It was clear that he’d missed you just as much as you’d been missing him, the pure relief that you see in his relaxing features bringing a new wave of calm through your body. He was here, he was happy, any doubt that may have lingered regarding whether or not he wanted to be with you is calmed in this moment - only to be replaced with the sparks that come with the feeling of his tongue against your clit. With the way his cursed markings seemed to vibrate against your skin, it’s like you feel him in your skin in all the best ways while his fingers carefully probe your wet slit. 

“Toge,” you whine, your hand in his hair while your other hand grips the handle of the refrigerator door. “Please, no marathons.”

That earns you a displeased grunt against your clit, but he had to understand that his forced distance was the reason why you needed him to go easy on you. But you continue to stare at him, eyes locked on his own as you push his hair back away from his forehead until he gives a more affirmative grunt with a nod that would serve as his agreement that he would not intentionally seek to overstimulate you like he typically enjoyed doing. 

Two of his slender fingers ease into your cunt, the wet sound so loud in your ears but drowned out by the loud groan Toge let out when he got a taste of how wet you were already. His tongue moves eagerly around your clit, the cursed appendage rolling around the sensitive bud in tight circles while his lips maintain a tight suction that keeps you clenching around his fingers as they fuck you. You’re not sure what is louder; your moans of pleasure, Toge’s moans and groans of delight, or the sinful squelching of your wet pussy being attacked from the inside and outside by your attentive lover’s hand and mouth. His eyes open, the look he gives you full of pure adoration as he opens his mouth to press the pulsing flat of his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue their fast strokes inside your cunt. 

“Cum for me,” is mumbled against your clit, the command forcing your eyes closed as your body tightens up around him while he does his best to keep you upright and prevent injury. Your pleasured cry is music to his ears as his tongue laps at your throbbing clit to try and keep you on the edge of overstimulation. You said no marathon, you didn’t say he couldn’t use his cursed speech and that loophole was an unfair advantage you’d truly scold him for later. 

“You’re cheating,” you scold; voice nothing more than a whisper as you push his head away from your core, pouting down at him as he grins, his free hand massaging your thigh that rest on his shoulder as he brings his fingers to his mouth. Your leg is carefully removed from his shoulder, and he’s carefully pulling you down to the floor to sit with him. There’s a delightful awkwardness in trying to get each other undressed while sitting on the kitchen floor, and it all reaches its intended outcome when Toge is carefully lying you back against the cold tile of the kitchen floor. Your feeble attempt at an offer to reciprocate the oral pleasure you’d received is met with a shake of his head as he settles between your spread legs, his fingers trailing along your slit before you feel the blunt tip of his cock trying to make its entrance. 

Your hands settle on his chest as he kisses you, his length working its way into your neglected pussy. You feel his groan rattle his chest, the sound reverberating through your mouth with the additional hum of his cursed energy overwhelming your senses. He’s all that matters to you at this moment, the slow grind of his hips into yours to keep close as he savors this reunion. His pace is slow, hard strokes pressing deep into your core and sending waves of pleasure along your spine as your hands move to clasp at the back of his neck. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, a statement that has him frowning, an apology in his eyes that has you regretting your honesty only momentarily before he’s smiling again as he shakes his head. Everything was going to be okay, you know that and trust in that. He sits up slightly, his hands taking your thighs in his hands and pushing them back towards your chest to allow for closer contact. He’s checking only momentarily to make sure you’re okay, the nod on your end allowing him to continue with his forceful thrusts. 

“T-Toge,” you gasp, the deeper angle forcing the wind out of you as he rests his forehead against yours. The only sound that follows is the sound of skin on skin with his hard thrusts, the primary soundtrack to your lovemaking as his mouth leaves yours in face of kissing along your face down to your neck to that spot that made you squirm as you feel yourself approaching the cusp of your orgasm. He knows you’re close, the pace of his strokes slowing down to try and force you to hold out for him. He wouldn’t dare tell you to wait, and you’re relieved when he whispers in your ear for you to cum for him. The cry that leaves you has him smiling against your cheek, his own groans flooding your ears as he finds his own release inside your pussy. 

He finally pulls out, moving to lay on his side beside you and gently stroking your cheek as he smiles at you before poking your nose and getting a giggle out of you that has him chuckling. In return, you reach out to poke his nose, which results in a poke competition as you’re both laughing until your arm gets tired. Your eyes close, relief washing over your system at the fact that you still had Toge, he still loved you and wanted to be with you, but his need to protect you from himself had him doing something stupid and not communicating his fears. That would need to be discussed when you weren’t naked on the kitchen floor.

There’s a gentle nudge to your side, and your eyes open to see Toge sitting up and looking down at you with a fond smile while nudging you with his knee. There’s a head nod towards the hallway that led to your bedroom, you know he’s trying to get you either to the bedroom to rest on a more comfortable surface than the kitchen tile. 

“Get into bed.”

“You’re a menace!” And you’re standing, Toge taking your hand in his own so he could walk with you to the bedroom. 

[hvnlygrl]

jj and his gf who has really bad sensory problems, especially at night when they're going to sleep her shirt always bothers her and she gets so fusturated but jj always knows what to do for her

or with loud noises!!! i feel like he'd be the type to practically whisper you to sleep at night because he knows sometimes all the noise is just way too overwhelming

it’s all too much (can’t get enough).

pairing — jj maybank x fem!reader

word count — 1.7k

warnings — overstimulated reader, reader has a panic attack, fluff, super comforting jj, talk of diagnoses and doctors, mentions of throw-up. hurt/comfort.

synopsis — when everything gets to be too much for you, jj becomes the only thing you can stand, and the one thing you crave more than anything.

notes — this is such a wonderful request as someone who struggles with this on a regular basis and relies on my own bf to calm me down and be my peace and my center to ground myself. i love this sm! i hope you enjoy <3

you weren’t sure when it started; the constant overwhelming feelings that consumed nearly every waking moment you had throughout the day. one doctor said it was normal for a girl your age, especially given the things you’d been through, another said that it was due to an anxiety disorder, and one (though you knew this one was totally full of shit) tried to blame it on obsessive compulsive disorder with a hint of autism. 

you had no clue when it got this bad, but you knew that it was reaching the point of becoming unbearable. being in crowds, or anywhere where the background noise was louder than the noise in your mind, made you feel like you needed to puke. clothes that were too tight or too loose, too coarse or too soft, too thick or too thin, drove you nearly to the brink of insanity. it was, as you described it, as if you were completely uncomfortable in your own body at all times. 

hearing people hum, sing, tap, or breathe drove you up a wall, and that was on your best day. it was the thing you hated most about yourself, honestly. you hated that you were so easily agitated, and that you couldn’t help the outbursts that came with it. 

throughout your school years, as it worsened, you lost friends one by one, until all that was left were the pogues and your boyfriend, jj. not like you needed anything more than them, but still.

you had no idea how jj could put up with you being this way, especially for so long, but you were extremely grateful for him. part of you, deep down inside your heart, was petrified that one day he would have enough and realize that he could do so much better, but for now you were willing to bask in each and every moment you got to have with him. 

jj, however, felt the same way about you; he was terrified that you’d wake up one day and realize how broken he was and how unfixable his soul would forever be. 

you were both idiots, admittedly, because each and every one of the pogues could tell just from the way that you looked at each other in docile moments that there was absolutely nothing either of you would take in place of the other. 

since your relationship started with jj, your anxiety got significantly better, with fewer outbursts and a generally happier state of being becoming your new normal. he grounded you to reality, kept you sane and helped you accept yourself for what you truly were. with jj, you never had to hide anything, never had to mask any emotions or thoughts (no matter how dark or upsetting they may be). you knew he would never judge you for anything you felt or thought, having dealt with his own fair share of breakdowns during his time alive. 

when you were crying to the point of hyperventilating over your crop top shirt being too constricting, he would give you his flannel to change into. when your shoes became too tight around your toes, he would pull your favorite slippers from his bag. when your food was too slimy or too crunchy, he’d swap dishes with you. anything to keep you happy, and anything to let you have as close to a normal experience as possible. 

jj was a saint, truly. everything he did, he did through his love for you, never once questioning whatever was bothering you, simply just finding the best fix or alternative to calm you back down. it was beautiful. 

however, as much as jj could do, he couldn’t always fix the problem. some things were still too far beyond anything he could ever understand, and in those cases, he would just hold you, doing his best to keep you contained and feeling as safe and comforted as possible. 

panic attacks were nothing new to you, a weekly occurrence since you were a small child. they stemmed from severe ptsd from your childhood, you knew that. that knowledge felt like it should be enough to be able to push through them when they happened, but it never was. 

a sharp pain in your chest, your internal temperature reaching record-breaking highs, your head spinning and full of loud disturbing thoughts, your breathing becoming erratic and your body trembling. you felt like you were going to puke and pass out all at the same time. 

the first time it happened around jj, he thought he was going to have to bring you to the hospital or call an ambulance. 

the two of you had gotten into a slight, meaningless disagreement over something completely irrelevant. he got a little too loud and before you knew it you had a hand clutching your heart, panting like a dog at the park as you backed as far into the nearest corner as you could. the walls shifted around you, inching closer and closer with every rapid breath you took. you tried to take deeper breaths, attempting to slow your heart before it exploded in your chest, but you couldn’t. you began crying, eyes wide with a thousand yard stare, seeing everything and nothing all at once. 

jj watched you for a moment, in terror as he panicked, completely unaware of what was happening or what he should or could do about it. “y/n? what’s happening, baby?” 

“i-i-” you struggled to catch a breath that would reach your lungs, “i can’t-”

“are you-what do i do?” he moves toward you, hands extended out warily, “what can i do, baby?”

you turned your head up toward the sky as you slid down the wall until you reached the floor. your eyes were pinched shut, as tight as you could get them, as if that would be enough to throw you back to reality. your arms wrapped around your knees tightly, one hand gripping the other as they wrung themselves together. “water,” it was a whisper, your vision full of black spots when you opened your eyes. this one was particularly bad for some reason, bringing you to the verge of passing out. “please.”

“water,” jj repeats, immediately jumping at the opportunity to help you, “uh, uh,” he searches frantically for a cup from the cabinet, realizing that all of the cups are dirty in the dishwasher, “shit!” he goes to wash one before remembering that you had put a few bottles to cool in the fridge when you’d gotten home earlier that day. “stupid,” he cusses at himself as he sprints to the fridge, rummaging through it until he finds one, perfectly chilled just for you. 

he returns, finding you taking deep breaths while humming to yourself softly. it’s rhythmic, though a song he’s never heard before. it’s the song your dad hummed to you when you had the same attacks as a child, he’d hold you, placing a cold washcloth on the back of your neck as he hummed, telling you to rub at the inside of your palms softly to the rhythm. it was an old trick his own mother had done for him when he was a child, and it worked like a charm for you most of the time. 

jj returns with the water, moving slower when he approached you, “i got your water, baby,” he speaks softly, his voice tender yet still slightly panicked. “can i get you anything else? do you want a hug or-”

“can you get me a washcloth, please?” 

he nods and immediately moves toward the bathroom. 

“wet it with cold water,” you call out to him, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

jj follows the instructions, wringing it out in the sink before bringing it back to you. he sits on the floor next to you, mimicking your pose as he watches you intently. 

you take a sip from the bottle before you drop your forehead to rest on the tops of your knees, the washcloth resting on the back of your neck. you continue taking deep breaths as you hum the tune once more, drawing shapes and massaging the insides of your palms. 

after a few minutes, your breathing returns back to normal, your heart rate dropping back to an acceptable rate again. once you feel alright, you turn to look at jj, his concerned blue eyes tugging at your heart. 

“are you okay? did i do something? i’m so sorry-”

“it was a panic attack,” your voice is soft, filled with shame as your gaze flutters between his eyes and his necklace. “i get them a lot. sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“no, no don’t be sorry,” he places a ringed hand on your shoulder, “that wasn’t your fault, baby, don’t be ashamed of that. i’m just glad i could help you. i know what to do for next time, don’t even worry about it, okay? i was just really worried about you.” 

“i know, i’m okay now though,” you nod, your heart warming at his words, “thanks for taking care of me.” 

“of course, y/n,” he scoots closer to you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “you’re my girl, i’ll always be here to take care of you, babe.” 

you smile, though he can't see it, “i love you, jj.” 

“i love you, y/n,” he repeats, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. “anything else i can do for you?”

“i could use a nap,” you huff softly, “that took a lot out of me.” 

“yea, i’m sure it did,” he affirms, “let’s go take a nap then.” 

jj helps you up from the floor, an arm slung over your shoulders as you both make your way down the hallway and into the bedroom. he pulls back the covers for you, turns the fan on, and the lights off. he even brings your water that you forgot to grab from the living room and places it on your nightstand. 

jj slides into the bed beside you, allowing you to get comfortable on his chest as he lies on his back. he rubs a hand on your back, humming the tune you sung earlier softly, putting you right to sleep. he silently prays that you’ll rest as much as you deserve, and that for as long as you’ll have him, he’ll be able to help you more than he could today. he also vows to never be the reason you feel like that again if he can help it. 

-> back to masterlist

taglist — @rubiehart @ji4ra4l1f3 @baebankz @sarahsangelicdoll

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hello! Just wanted to say that I've been reading your posts and analyses for awhile now, and I really enjoy them! So, I also thought of sharing a sort of theory of mine, bc I'm very interested in hearing what you might think about it.

For starters, these lines from Jia Xichun are very intriguing:

«No amount of pain could wake it from... whatever this dazed state it's in. As you can see...»

«... it must've been long driven mad from pain. Reminds you of the tricks from back home that could induce such an effect, doesn't it? Big brother.»

For two reasons. 1. This is the first time (iirc) in the story where Hong Lu doesn't reply and stays silent and seemingly uneasy; 2. The fact that this "dazed state" as it is described actually kind of reminds of Hong Lu's usual behavior a bit?

To elaborate, after her lines the attention was drawn back to the Priest, and his face was described as "serene". And who's facial expression was also described in a similar manner, precisely, with a literal synonym? Of course, Hong Lu, during the TKT Intervallo:

«The culprit wasn't the only one who suddenly began to behave strangely. Hong Lu did, too.»

«His face relaxed into a tranquil look, as though he was ready to let something go.

... Or perhaps... that was an express of liberation.»

And also to mention how the Priest started reminiscing similarly to how Hong Lu tells stories about his family (but idk, I'm afraid I am starting to reach even harder for this😭)

All in all, my theory, if you can call it that, is that perhaps those "tricks from back home" where actually performed on Hong Lu. This could potentially explain his constant aloofness, his reaction to Xichun's words (she brought up some of his traumatic memories?), and why exactly he has one of the most deranged IDs — because he has already been long driven mad from pain.

I really hope I worded this well enough, and I don't know if I sound like a lunatic or if I actually cooked something when I was thinking abt this at 2 am. And well, I'm also probably not the first one to think of this. But anyways, still thought this is worth bringing up!

Well, I hope you enjoy the Xichun Sin Analysis I just posted earlier then! That being said, there is something interesting I want to bring up with regards to this theory you pose, as it's tangentially related to the bits you reference and also it's been sitting in my head for a while now.

First point - I definitely agree that when Xichun brings up the "tricks" that can leave people in a similar state to the Priest, it's something Hong Lu has experienced himself.

We see Hong Lu has a tendency to avoid topics that bother him at all cost, like how he actively tries to redirect conversations in Hell's Chicken when he's being questioned regarding what he thinks could lead him into Distorting and when he senses Meursault is about to verbally lay into him. It's a tactic he employs very often as a distraction from the weirder things he says.

Interestingly enough, I believe Canto 7 is the first time we see Hong Lu avoid topics not through redirection, but through shutting down. That interaction you brought up isn't the first time in the Canto that he's rendered speechless either. In part 1, he's shown to respond with silence when both Rodya and Sinclair comment on their dislike of Xichun, being seemingly uncomfortable with the way they're talking about her.

And then there's a scene even earlier on in Part 1 that left a really, really major impression on me. Which. I can talk about now!

This, I believe, is the first time in Canto 7 where we see Hong Lu properly shut down in response to something. Something about what Xichun has said made him completely stop what he was doing earlier. His entire approach to the conversation changes in this moment. Earlier on he was excitedly asking questions, trying to give advice and gather information, but after this moment, Hong Lu is rendered completely passive, his lines being reduced to only responding to Xichun is saying in a very... honestly weird way.

It's not obvious in the transcript by itself, but his tone is... odd, compared to the way he was speaking earlier. In addition to that, every expression Hong Lu has during this conversation after this point are ones that actively have him not looking at Xichun, either using his closed eyes sprite or looking to the side sprite.

This moment struck me very, very heavily the first time I got to it in my plathrough. Part of it is because of the weird unnatural shift Hong Lu's behavior takes in this moment that I wasn't even consciously noticing until a reread. The other part is that the exact words Xichun says to Hong Lu that triggers this are ones that reminded me of something very specific in Dream of the Red Chamber.

There is a chapter fairly early on in Hong Lu's source novel that I can only describe as Bao-yu being verbally and emotionally abused by his father for the entire chapter. His father takes Bao-yu along as he shows off his garden to his acquaintances, and every time Bao-yu speaks up, whether by being prompted to or on his own, his father chastises him excessively. I don't remember the exact words, but the framing is pretty clear about the fact that Bao-yu's father sees his son's behavior as being a source of embarassment to himself in front of his acquaintances.

The kind of abuse shown in that chapter is downright stomach-churning in how realistically it is potrayed. It's genuinely upsetting and one of the main reasons I was unable to continue reading much further past that point.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Project Moon decided the thing that made Hong Lu have a shift in his behavior was being told him being himself is a cause of embarassment for someone else in his family. ...And I think Xichun's immediate reaction shows she realizes what is happening as well. It's very telling she doesn't bring up Hong Lu 'not getting better since the last time they've met' until this moment.

Because I don't think the thing he hasn't gotten better from is his upbeat, naive attitude. I believe it's his trauma response he's exhibiting right here. To become passive, downright submissive, and simply take everything that's being dealt to him without objections.

...Which segues nicely into the second point! Because the 'serene daze' shown on the Priest? The tranquility and peace Hong Lu exhibits in TKT, which is outright called out as strange by Dante? I believe it's the exact same as the trauma response I highlighted earlier. It's the immediate instinct to just lay down and take the pain because trying to fight back would only prolong the suffering.

The line about that expression being potentially "an express of liberation" is very telling. On the one hand, this Canto only further cements the fact that Hong Lu is just as passively suicidal as Yi Sang was before going through Canto 4. On the other, it directly ties back to Hong Lu potentially believing that the less resistance he shows, the sooner he'll be freed from suffering.

I already briefly went insane over the following line in a seperate post, but it feels extremely important to bring it up in here as well.

This line. This. Fucking. Line. Directly creates parallels between Oblivion and Naivete, drawing parallels between Donqui/Sancho and Hong Lu. And it's not that hard to see why.

We see that Donqui/Sancho's choice to embrace Oblivion, to completely try and erase her former identity and fall into a dream is motivated by her wishing to escape her reality, to stop thinking about the bloodshed and violence.

This line, and what we see of how Hong Lu acts throughout this Canto, is making it clear that Hong Lu's naive attitude, his constant willingness to assume the best of everyone around him, is just another part of his trauma response I've pointed out earlier.

It's how he escapes the violence he's been subjected to, the reality he's been living in. After all, the explanation he gives for why he wasn't afraid when the Time Killer tried to kill him... is because he understands why people want to hurt him. He didn't fight back when his siblings tried to kill him, because he knew why they would want to do that.

Because he tries to assume the best of everyone, tries to understand the reasons they do what they do, tries to be naively innocent, he's able to accept the pain and let it happen. Because if he can't, if he's forced to face none of what was done to him was justified... Well...

...This is where I would like to jump off and go on a tangent about my own theory. You see, you bring up the story the Priest starts telling to compare it to how Hong Lu acts with his anecdotes, but I think there's something much deeper going on with that story. Look at how the Priest begins it.

It's very clear the story he's telling is him directly comparing someone among the Sinners to Lorenzo, the Bloodfiend he's talking about. Dante's narration doesn't specify who the Priest means, as they only mentioned that "He looked at us", but it's clear from his words that he means a Single Specific Person here.

On my initial readthrough I assumed this was about Donqui, as this is her Canto after all, but... I no longer believe that's the case. In fact, I believe that the Sinner being used as a parallel to Lorenzo here is Hong Lu.

Let me give my evidence first.

One - We know the Priest, even in his daze, still recognizes Donqui as Sancho. The way he ends off his story says as much.

It's clear from his words and his actions that he's actively blaming Sancho for what happened to Lorenzo, and what he believes has happened to Cassetti as well. This would align with the feelings all of the named Kindreds we mett express towards her. So, to me at least, it's clear that the Priest wouldn't compare Sancho to Lorenzo in a way he has here.

Two - The framing of the scene and what follows later puts a lot of focus on Hong Lu.

Hong Lu is extremely present during this scene. Not only is the Priest compelled to share the story right after we see Hong Lu shut down at what Xichun has said, but the CG that follows his story inexplicably includes Hong Lu in it, listening intently.

And not only that, but soon after the Priest is taken away and Sansón tells another story, we get the moment of Donqui telling Dante she thinks it's Hong Lu's turn in the Golden Bough horrors.

If this were a game made by anyone else, I would take this as a self-aware joke pointing fun at how much focus Hong Lu has gotten in a Canto that's not his and move on. But this isn't anyone else.

This is Project Moon, who have a very Notable Track Record of hiding extremely important reveals and foreshadowing in one-off lines during comedic moments, especially in Limbus. See Canto 2 and Hell's Chicken. I genuinely believe the reason this joke exists here is to draw our attention not only to the parallels between Donqui/Sancho and Hong Lu, but also to the moments where Hong Lu is already the focus.

Three - The phrasing the Priest uses to refer to whoever he's comparing to Lorenzo.

The way he addresses this person and the rest of the group is very interesting, as there's emphasis put on his choice of the word "friends" to describe them. This feels important, as earlier on, in Part 1, Hong Lu himself denies Xichun's assessment that the Sinners are his faction, deliberately calling them his friends. Just like here the Priest calls the people accompanying the one he's directing the story at their friends.

So... what does that all mean for Hong Lu to be directly compared to Lorenzo? Well, let's take a quick look at what Lorenzo's story is.

Lorenzo is initially described as a Bloodfiend filled with positivity, to the point that the Priest thinks he didn't have anything to actually confess for. We see him think the way he's able to eat so many hemobars in one sitting as impressive, seeming completely oblivious to the the fact it's a clear sign the hemobars do nothing for Bloodfiends nutritionally.

This attitude completely changes however after Lorenzo tastes blood for the first time. He completely loses himself to obsession, spending hours licking a syringe just to be able to taste it. He completely loses his hope in the hemobars, having the drastic realization they do nothing, and lamenting how much longer he has to keep on living like this.

The story ends with the Priest remarking that after that shift, the only time he had seen Lorenzo genuinely happy was when he was about to be buried alive, when his head and brain were already completely decimated to the point he should be dead.

This... is already a lot.

Lorenzo's initial attitude, his positivity and naive belief that the hemobars are good despite the evidence to the contrary, are extremely close to how Hong Lu is right now. Upbeat, oblivious, always assuming the best of others. Hong Lu's passively suicidal tendencies could also track to Lorenzo's ending, how it's clear that Hong Lu is extremely willing to accept his own death.

...And then there's the whole middle of that story. There's a lot of different things this could be foreshadowing for Hong Lu's arc, but one thing is clear - he's not going to stay his upbeat self forever.

Every hint we've had about Hong Lu thus far. The implication he knows there's something that could make him distort all the way back in Hell's Chicken. The way we're told this Canto that Hong Lu's eye is dimming right after he comments how Donqui's twinkling eyes show she's "lucid", or living completely detached from reality. And then this, him being directly compared to a story of a Bloodfiend who upon finally being hit with reality begins to spiral and completely lose all his hope.

It all points to the idea that Hong lu will be forced to face his reality. To understand that his hemobars do jack shit and always have, that perhaps his family have never truly cared for him. And that realization could very well be the thing that finally breaks him.

I mean, his IDs already point to it, no? After all, Fanghunt Lu, possibly the most violent and deranged Hong Lu ID released thus far, one released alongside this part mind you, is shown to be actively thinking about and doubting the nature of family. "What even is a real family, I wonder?"

I'm just saying, if there's any Sinner who deserves to go utterly apeshit in their Canto, it would be Hong Lu. Let. My guy. Break Everything.

[kaeso4ka]

You're being stalked. It becomes even more of a problem when you find out who it is

Pairing: yandere Optimus Prime x reader

Oddly enough, it started with a glance. You never suffered from paranoia, but it was impossible to ignore that feeling of constant scrutiny. Someone was peering at your back on the street, staring out your window, and even crossing their eyes with you a couple times, I think.

Jasper was a small town, and you worked at one of the most popular cafes. It wasn't strange that a lot of people knew you by sight and even sometimes recognized you on the streets. But a slight nod from a group of teenagers, to whom you made a discount yesterday by great kindness of heart - it's one thing, but the feeling of persecution - quite another.

During one of your shifts, you found a note on one of the tables, on which someone described your smile and hands in a very poetic and beautiful handwriting. It looked cute and weird in equal measure, so the strange note soon went in the trash and the memory of it went out of your head.

Then strange things started happening more often. Someone attached to the doors of the coffee shop not small notes, but whole letters in which someone addressed to you.

You tried to catch the joker for a long time: you watched the cameras, followed the visitors. But it didn't bring you any closer to an answer. It was as if someone was invisible: he did not meet anyone's eyes, bypassed all the cameras.

The situation began to get out of control at the moment when on the doorstep of your own house you began to find the same notes, but this time with presentations: scarlet roses, food, something that looks like jewelry. Someone continued to correspond with you one-sidedly, confessing their warmest feelings for you.

It sent a chill down your spine.

It wasn't normal.

Someone knew your workplace, your personal address. Someone was following you. Wanted to get you to like them. They were showering you with gifts.

And at one point, even contacted you.

It was an early Saturday: you woke up to the hot desert sun beating down on your face. And the sound of notifications coming in.

Normally, no one bothered you on weekends: your bosses knew you weren't going out on your day off, and everyone else preferred to rest rather than write to you.

And yet someone had broken a glorious tradition.

You frowned, unlocking your phone. Messages came from an unknown number.

“Hello. I apologize for disturbing you. Did I wake you up?”

“Jack, if it's you, I told you, just because you have ballet on Saturdays doesn't mean I'm going to go work a twelve-hour shift for you. Let's go without me somehow, friend.”

“This isn't your work colleague. I'm writing to make sure you liked all the presents. I didn't misjudge your taste?”

Sleep receded into the background soon enough. You sat up abruptly on the bed. Immediately you took screenshots of the correspondence. You weren't five years old, and she knew exactly what to do if you were being followed. At the very least you had to prepare evidence for the police.

“It's understandable. You do know there's still a statute for stalking in our state, right? That's a pretty serious violation of the law.”

“I apologize, there was a misunderstanding between us. I didn't mean to scare you at all. I'm just showing signs of attention.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Tracked me down at work, at home, even got my personal phone number…. Not stalking at all, huh. If you wanted to meet me, you would have approached me yourself.”

“I can't.”

“What are you, a wheelchair user? Well, you'd drive up.”

You nodded your shoulder, remembering. Did a lot of handicapped people go to your coffee shop…?

“That's not the point. I can't come up to you right now. But I'll be able to soon.”

“You shouldn't bother. I did not like the note with which you began the acquaintance. I do not wish to continue it.”

You didn't wait long: you threw the undecided number on the block and drifted further into sleep. A sense of dread dulled the ironic hilarity.

The gifts and notes were gone. The unknown person didn't try to contact you again, and you exhaled hastily: it's nice when people around you turn out to be strange but understanding.

One shift, a tractor-trailer pulled up to the car food dispensing window. The red-and-blue, expensive-looking Paterbilt looked pretentious against the gray-and-yellow Jasper. Still, truckers often passed through this town on their way to Las Vegas, so you weren't surprised.

“Could you take the order outside?” a pleasant male voice asked quietly and conciliatory. “The booth is very high up. I won't be able to reach the order.”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded into the void, as if the person you were talking to could see you, ”the order will be ready in ten minutes. Wait in the parking lot, don't hold up the line.”

When the food was ready and stacked, you hurried out from behind your desk. You headed for the parking lot, which was empty except for Paterbilt.

The car door from the driver's seat was ajar, and you hurriedly reached forward with the bag of food, but… There was no one in sight. The cabin was empty.

“What the��?” the moment you reached forward to look for the trucker, who had obviously moved back to where they had a sleeping place, something yanked you forward by the arm. “What the…!”

Paterbilt's door slammed shut exactly as the plugs pulled you inside.

“I can speak to you personally now, my Spark.”

[1mnshw]

a very risky gamble // s.r.

words - 3.1k

spencer reid x female oc

type of fic: enemies to lovers

SSA Vivienne Harper is pulled into a grisly cult case with the BAU, but the real challenge isn’t the killers—it’s working with Spencer Reid, the brilliant profiler she swore she’d never deal with again. As the body count rises and buried tensions flare, Vivienne must outsmart a deadly cult while facing a past that refuses to stay buried.

— — — — — — — — —

one

Ever since Vivienne was young, she’d always loved silence. It wasn’t a disdain for noise—when you grew up in New York, the chaos of the city became less a nuisance and more a constant, unshakable rhythm of life. No, it was something else. Silence felt like clarity, like the space where she could fully let go and breathe. Just her and the low hum of the open air.

She’d say, by rough estimate, she got about three minutes of it that morning. Three whole minutes from the time she walked into the building until Julian Mercer knocked on her office door.

“Harper, we need to talk. Got a minute?”

He barged in without waiting for an answer, already settling into the chair opposite her desk. That was Julian Mercer for you—patience wasn’t part of his vocabulary. It always seemed like he had too much on his plate to bother with niceties, which, given that he oversaw one of the busiest FBI field offices in the country, wasn’t far from the truth.

He tossed a thick file onto her desk with a thud, the kind of file that could probably double as a weapon in several states.

“Young boy, fourteen. Found dead near the Capitol.”

“Good morning to you too, Mercer,” Vivienne said dryly, flipping open the folder. The photos inside were grim—grimmer than most cases she’d handled recently. “Vocal folds removed post-mortem?”

“Yes. Look at the next picture.”

Vivienne frowned, but when she turned the page, her stomach sank. Carved into the victims’ chests was a symbol she recognized instantly.

An eye, its pupil cradling a dove, with the crescent moon underneath. The design was as intricate as it was chilling. She didn’t have to think twice to know what it meant.

She tried to steady her voice when she spoke, but it came out rougher than she intended. “They’re back?”

“They’re back,” Julian echoed grimly, his tone heavy with unspoken implications. “And this is just the beginning. Which is why the brass wants us to collaborate.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes at him. “Collaborate?”

“With the BAU in Quantico.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward slightly. “Now, you know we don’t have the manpower to send a full team down there, and I have to stay here and keep things running…”

He trailed off, gesturing vaguely as if Vivienne was supposed to pick up on the rest. When she didn’t, he sighed.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “the Bureau told me to pick my best agent. After I sent them and the BAU unit chief your file, they were both thoroughly impressed. You’re going down there as a temporary member to help solve this case.”

“Julian, what?”

“You heard me, Harper. You’re going to assist the BAU on this case in Quantico. This is a huge opportunity, and you should accept it as a compliment. I—”

She cut him off. “Respectfully, I decline. This is ridiculous. Mercer, you need me here, not in Virginia.” She slid the file back across the desk toward him. “There are cases in this city—my city—that need my attention. People here need my help.”

Julian didn’t flinch. He slid the folder right back to her, his movements deliberate, almost dismissive. “Respectfully, Vivienne,” he said as he stood, leveling her with a steely gaze, “this isn’t a choice; it’s a requirement. This is part of your job, and unless you’d like to explore other career opportunities, I suggest you go home, pack your things, and prepare to leave. They sent their jet here, and it leaves in two hours.”

The click of her office door as he left echoed louder than Vivienne wanted to admit. She let out a frustrated groan, raking her hands through her hair. Damn it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t see the stakes. She understood the gravity of the case—better than anyone, probably. But to drag her out of New York to work with a team she had no connection with, in a city she hadn’t lived in since she trained at the academy? It felt like a waste of time and resources. Still, trying to argue with Mercer was like trying to move a mountain with a teaspoon. The man wasn’t going to budge.

So she sighed, grabbed the file in front of her and her keys, and left. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel the whole way home, the weight of inevitability settling over her like a heavy blanket. By the time she reached her apartment, she was already halfway resigned.

— — —

She arrived at the airstrip ten minutes early, her fingers gripping the handle of her suitcase as she approached the jet waiting on the tarmac. She paused at the edge of the catwalk, staring up at the sleek private plane. It gleamed in the dim light of the overcast afternoon, all polished steel and understated power.

Julian’s words echoed in her head. This is a huge opportunity. Begrudgingly, Vivienne admitted he wasn’t wrong—neither he nor the brass were the type to blow smoke up your ass, no matter how bad the situation was. If they wanted her on this case, they believed she’d bring something to the table.

Still, a small, defiant part of her wanted to resent the whole situation.

Nonetheless, she sent Julian a quick text.

Thank you.

He responded quickly, which was a surprise.

Don’t make me regret it.

Vivienne smiled as she drew a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and climbed the stairs, her heels clicking against the metal steps. As she stepped into the cabin, she had to admit—despite herself—it wasn’t half bad.

In fact, it was ridiculous. Luxurious leather seats, polished wood paneling, and enough legroom to stretch out comfortably made it clear: the BAU was in a different league. This wasn’t just a jet; it was a statement.

She dropped her suitcase near one of the seats, brushing her fingers over the armrest. “Well,” she muttered under her breath, “this almost makes up for being yanked out of the city.”

Almost.

It was hard not to imagine what her own department could do with the kind of budget that paid for this. She sank into one of the seats, the plush leather cushioning her in a way that was almost absurdly comfortable. Her gaze wandered to the large windows, offering a view of the jet engines gleaming in the muted light. For the first time since Mercer had dropped this bombshell, she felt a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity. The BAU wasn’t just any unit; it was the kind of team agents dreamed about joining. Legends in their own right. Maybe—just maybe—there was something to be gained from this after all.

As the engines hummed to life, Vivienne let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The soft vibration under her feet grounded her, and she allowed herself a small, wry smile. Quantico wasn’t home, and she wasn’t thrilled about leaving New York, but there was a certain thrill in the unknown. Working alongside a team like this, tackling a case that would undoubtedly be challenging and grim, was the kind of puzzle she’d secretly always craved. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she could make this work.

— — —

Hotch led her through the bustling halls of the BAU with his usual no-nonsense efficiency. Agents moved with purpose around them, their conversations blending into a low hum of activity. The building’s atmosphere was different from her office in New York—less chaotic, more deliberate.

“You’ll find we operate a little differently here,” Hotch said as they approached the stairs. “This team is small but specialized. Everyone brings a unique skill set to the table, and we rely on that dynamic to tackle these cases. Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, will be meeting you later on. She’s on her way in.”

Vivienne nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Understood. I’ve read up on the unit’s case history—it’s impressive. I’m looking forward to seeing the team in action.”

Hotch glanced at her, his expression giving nothing away. “They’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ve had to operate shorthanded on cases like this before. Having another experienced profiler will be an asset.”

She followed him up the stairs, the quiet intensity of his words not lost on her. It wasn’t a glowing welcome, but she wasn’t expecting one. Hotch struck her as the kind of leader who spoke through action, not words.

When they reached the bullpen, the space was alive with the low buzz of conversation and the shuffle of papers. A conference room off to the side was lit, the walls lined with evidence boards, but the team had gathered near the center of the room.

“Everyone,” Hotch began, his voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise, “this is Agent Vivienne Harper. She’s joining us from the New York City field office to assist on this case.”

All eyes turned toward her, and she instinctively straightened her posture. Hotch stepped aside, gesturing toward each member of the team as he introduced them.

“Derek Morgan,” Hotch started, motioning toward the tall man leaning casually against a desk. “He’s our tactical expert and one of the best at getting into the minds of offenders.”

Morgan grinned, stepping forward to shake her hand. “Welcome to the team, Harper. You ready for the big leagues?”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Big leagues? That what they call it when you’ve got a coffee machine that actually works?”

Morgan chuckled, crossing his arms. “Oh, I like her already.”

Hotch moved on, ignoring the exchange. “Emily Prentiss,” he said, indicating the dark-haired woman beside Morgan. Emily stepped forward, her smile warm but confident. “It’s nice to have another profiler on board. You’ll find we don’t bite. Well, most of us.”

“Good to know,” Vivienne replied, shaking her hand. “I’ll keep my guard up, just in case.”

“Jennifer Jareau,” Hotch continued, pointing to the blonde woman who stood next to an evidence board, clipboard in hand. “She’s our communications liaison and media coordinator.”

JJ smiled, offering a handshake. “You can call me JJ. Don’t worry—we’ll ease you in.”

“I appreciate that,” Vivienne said. “Just don’t expect me to smile for the cameras.”

JJ laughed. “Noted.”

“David Rossi,” Hotch said, turning toward the older man seated at a desk with a cup of coffee in hand. “He’s one of the founding members of the unit and brings decades of experience to the team.”

Rossi set down his mug, offering a polite nod. “Welcome, Agent Harper. Don’t let the chaos fool you—we’re very organized. Usually.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Vivienne said, chuckling.

“And this is Dr.—“ The man standing behind the group stepped forward and cut Hotch’s introduction short.

“Vi.”

Vivienne’s pulse spiked. She hadn’t heard that nickname in years, not since the academy. The only person who ever called her that was—

“Spence.” They stared each other down, and the intensity on both of their faces was enough to silence the rest of the team.

Hotch cleared his throat and attempted to break the tension in the room. “You two have met?”

Spencer spoke, not breaking eye contact with Vivienne. “We met when we were both in training.”

“How long has it been? Five, six years?”

“Five years, seven months, and seventeen days. Not nearly long enough.”

“Clearly.”

Hotch’s sharp tone sliced through the thick tension. “That’s enough,” he said, stepping forward slightly as though positioning himself between them. His gaze flicked between Spencer and Vivienne, calm but commanding. “Whatever history you two have, leave it outside this office. Understood?”

Vivienne forced herself to look away from Spencer and nodded, her jaw tightening. “Understood.”

Spencer’s response was quieter but no less resolute. “Understood.”

Morgan, sensing the shift in energy, gave a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, this just got interesting. You sure you’re not gonna need a referee for this, Hotch?”

Hotch shot him a sharp look, and Morgan immediately quieted, but not before muttering, “Alright, alright, just checking.”

“Everyone, back to work,” Hotch continued, voice firm. “JJ, you and Prentiss check with Garcia on potential connections with the cult. Morgan, I need you and Harper to finalize the timeline. Reid, go over the backgrounds with Rossi.”

The team scattered, but before they all went to take care of their respective tasks, Spencer stopped Vivienne.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low and edged with irritation, the same tone that used to make her blood boil. Judging by the sharp look in his eyes, he was just as annoyed by her presence as she was by his.

Vivienne let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Oh, you know, just building a damn rocket, Spence. What do you think I’m doing? I’m here to work. The Bureau sent me, just like they sent you. Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only golden agent of the FBI.”

His eyes narrowed, a glint of sharp disbelief flickering in them. “Yes, I’m aware, Vi. I just didn’t expect you to be the ‘highly regarded’ New York agent Hotch and Mercer have been raving about. Though, now that I think about it, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure you’re still the same reckless person you’ve always been.”

Vivienne squared her shoulders, the old nickname lighting a familiar spark of irritation. “First of all, I told you to stop calling me that. It’s Vivienne—but I guess listening isn’t exactly your strong suit. Second of all, I’m sure you haven’t changed much either. Still hiding behind your precious facts and statistics, clinging to your spreadsheets like a lifeline, instead of actually doing something out in the field?”

Spencer's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might actually snap back—something he rarely did. Instead, he straightened his posture and fixed her with a cool, unwavering stare.

“Facts and statistics save lives, Vi,” he said, his voice calm but laced with steel. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that. You’ve always been more comfortable charging in headfirst and hoping your instincts will catch you. And hey, maybe they do sometimes, but how many people have you put at risk with that reckless approach?”.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vivienne shot back, crossing her arms. “I didn’t realize we were measuring success by how many textbooks you can memorize in a week. But sure, go ahead, Spence. Quote me some studies about how I’m doing my job wrong. That’s so much more helpful than actually, you know, doing the job.”

His lips twitched, almost like he was biting back a smile—or maybe a smirk.

“At least I don’t need to prove I’m the smartest person in the room,” he said. “Some of us let our work speak for itself.”

Vivienne started to respond, but Morgan cut in between them, a playful glint in his eyes. “You with me, Harper?”

Vivienne gave him a quick nod and followed him over to the other side of the room, but not before giving Spencer one last glance.

Spencer plopped down next to a stack of case files, flipping through them as he glanced over at Vivienne. After he handed her half the stack, he spoke. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“I feel like what you’re about to say isn’t going to be about my undeniable expertise and sharp wit,” Vivienne said dryly.

He laughed, but shook his head. “We’ll get to that later. You and Reid, what’s the deal?”

Vivienne shot him a glare, groaning. “Come on, Morgan. Can’t you ask me about anything else?”

“I get it, it’s just— I’ve known the guy forever. He’s usually so calm, and I can probably count the amount of times I’ve seen him mad on one hand. But all of a sudden you show up, and all that gets flipped on its head. I’m not complaining, it’s pretty entertaining to watch,” he laughed, and Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Obviously something happened.”

Vivienne raised her eyebrows at him, smiling. “If you think it’s entertaining, you’re the only one.”

“Maybe,” Morgan said with a grin, leaning back casually in his chair. “I’m just intrigued.”

Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clearly waiting for some juicy tidbit. Vivienne stared at him for a beat, then sighed, knowing he wouldn’t drop it until she threw him a bone.

“Fine,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Reid and I met at the Academy. We didn’t exactly… get along.”

Morgan raised a brow, his grin widening. “Didn’t get along? That’s an understatement, judging by the way you two were about to throw punches back there.”

Vivienne smirked. “We were competitive, okay? He thought he was smarter than everyone, and I wasn’t about to let him walk around like he was the second coming of Einstein.”

“Let me guess,” Morgan cut in, “you made it your personal mission to knock him down a peg?”

“More like a few pegs,” Vivienne admitted with a shrug.

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “So that’s it? Just a couple of old rivals butting heads again?”

Vivienne hesitated, her eyes flickering across the room to where Spencer was sitting. “Something like that. It doesn’t matter. We’re here to work a case, not revisit ancient history.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though the glint of curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade entirely. He stood, grabbing the case files and flashing Vivienne a knowing grin.

“Come on, let’s get back to work before Hotch wonders why we’re sitting around gossiping.”

Morgan’s grin lingered as he moved toward the evidence boards, carrying a stack of case files under one arm. Vivienne grabbed her half of the pile and followed, letting his easy demeanor chip away at the irritation still simmering in her chest.

The bullpen was alive with the hum of focused activity. Agents moved between desks, flipping through files, pinning photos and diagrams to the walls, and mapping out connections. This was a team at its peak—efficient, driven, and unified. And now, whether Vivienne liked it or not, she was part of it.

Morgan dropped his files on the table with a dramatic thud, flashing Vivienne another teasing grin. “Alright, Harper, let’s see if that New York expertise can keep up.”

“Oh, please.” Vivienne smirked, pulling out a chair. “You’re about to get schooled, Morgan.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.”

As they delved into the files, the tension faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of collaboration. For now, the case took precedence, and Vivienne was more than ready to prove that she belonged here.

— — — — — — — — —

hi! hope u liked this. this is ch1 of many, and i'll be cross-posting on a03 once i hit 3 chapters if u prefer that format!! this is my christmas gift, from me to you. love ya!

(p.s. i imagine s6/7 spencer in this, and this will be when the fic is set, but we will be 👀overlooking the ENTIRE plot of emilys death. bless!)

[darling-i-read-it]

Limo

Johnny Cage x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warnings: jealousy/insecurity, insinuations to smut (natural johnny jokes), lots of drinking for some reason idk what i was on 

Author’s Note: i loveee johnny and writing for him is so fun. I think i kinda mixed the spicy fluffy lol, i hope you liked it darling!! I had sm fun with him <3 

Requested: by anon, I loved your Johnny Cage fic. Can I request another one where he’s with the reader, but she’s still nervous he still has feelings for Sonya? Fluffy or spicy ending is completely up to you, but a happy ending for everyone is all I ask. You’re the best!!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Johnny wouldn’t call himself a frequent drinker. He liked to have a beer at events and a glass when he was winding down at home. Sometimes he would have a nightcap, just to end things right. Every once in a while he would go out drinking with friends. Well, he liked to drink with you, that was always fun. 

So maybe Johnny was a frequent drinker. But he wouldn’t call it a problem. 

Your giggles were like music to his ears. He could hear them from another room, identify it in a crowded space. He sat across from you on your shared California king bed. The bedroom was filled with posters from his movies, larger than life, a huge TV hanging from the wall. There was a discarded beer bottle beside you. You had a glass of your favorite in hand, something Johnny had made for you. He was a bartender in a movie. Ten years ago. 

“No more Jon. No more,” you said, and you were still giggling. 

“C’mon, c’mon. Don’t be a party pooper.” His words were slurred. You could understand him despite it. 

“There’s no party!” you argued lightly. It was just the two of you at home, in bed. He had turned on some music, connecting it to a speaker in the lights. He had the whole place rigged with random electronics. 

“This is our party,” he said, grabbing your hands. He spilled your glass and you were both laughing again. 

“You’ve been to real life parties Johnny. All the good ones, the crazy Hollywood ones. You call this a party?” 

“Yes! This is my favorite kind of party!” 

You were only slightly intoxicated. In fact, you were mostly drunk from Johnny's presence. You enjoyed moments where you just got to sit together, laughing at his absurdness. People tend to think it’s his downfall. In truth, it was the most charming thing about him. You had never known Johnny to be anything except pleasant and funny. 

“Oh come on,” you said. You put down your glass beside you. Your bedside table was covered in things, from tissues to pills. You looked back up at him. He had sunglasses on top of his head, even though the sun had gone down ages ago. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His natural state of being. “What’s been the craziest party you went to?” He thought about it for a moment. He sat back, letting go of your hands. You raised an eyebrow at his studious gaze. 

“There was one like five years ago. People were hangin’ upside down, snorting stuff!” He shook his head, laughing fondly (and drunkenly) at the memory. “Like from the ceiling from hooks! I tried to get up there but Sonya told me I wasn’t allowed to. She was always a party pooper, never wanted to have any fun in front of other people.” He shook his head, a far away look on his face. “She did let me lift her up so she could order us drinks over everyones head. That was hella smart,” he pointed out. 

Your face lost some of its joy at the mention of Sonya. You tried to bring your smile back, not let it bother you. Johnny had always been open about his past romances. He was a womanizer, it was part of his image. Even after his constant assurance, it bothered you a bit. The random girls less so. 

Sonya Blade though…

It was his longest relationship before you. They still worked together sometimes. He still mentioned her, off handedly, like she was a fond friend. 

“You good babe?” You blinked a couple of times, looking back in his eyes. You plastered a fake smile onto your face, trying to let the alcohol in your system sink in. You nodded quickly, grabbing your glass again and bringing it to your lips. 

“Perfect!” You cleared your throat. “Sounds insane.” 

“We should try that next time,” he said. “It was one of my better ideas.” You nodded again. He squinted, sitting all the way up on the bed. The comforter was all messed up from the two of you moving around it. He couldn’t exactly place what had gone wrong but he knew something had been changed.

“You have plenty of good ideas.”

“Yeah, one time I used my powers to get us free drinks.”

“You still do that.”

“It’s really successful. Can you blame me?” You shook your head. You finished your glass. Johnny studied you, squinting his eyes.

“I’m gonna get another glass.” 

“Wait wait, woah!” He grabbed your hand before you could go far. “Wait, something just happened but I don’t know what it was. The vibe changed.”

“Nothing changed,” you assured him. “I just want another glass!” Johnny didn’t know a lot but he knew you. He knew the way you smiled and the way you sometimes covered up your emotions to save him. Even when he said you shouldn’t, you did. 

But arguing with you seemed like a mute point. He wanted things to stay good. That’s all he’s ever wanted. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes Jon.” You leaned forward, giving him a kiss. His lips were plump and extremely kissable. It never failed to make you feel better. You kissed the edge of his mouth, leaving faint flutters on his skin. He smiled, shining his movie star smile. 

“Can you get me another too?”

-

Johnny hadn’t even broken a sweat. He could go for round after round and come out of it unscathed and ready for another. You hopped back up, rubbing the tiredness from your face. You stretched your neck back and forth. 

“Tired already?” he teased. You rolled your eyes. You guys had started to train more together. It saved you both a trip to a gym and it proved that you could get all your anger out in a healthy way. Healthy being a relative term. 

“I’m goin’ easy on you,” you joked. You stood up straight. 

“I don’t like it when you lie to me,” he joked. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the edge of the matt so you could grab a drink of water. You were less ‘indestructible’ based and more ‘power’ based. “You know there’s always other stuff we can use the mat for.” He walked over to you, grabbing his own bottle. You gave him a look as you gulped down your water. He smiled suggestively. 

“I’m not falling for that this time.” 

“You make it sound like you aren’t a willing participant.” He flipped his water bottle and caught it. “Hey, there’s a party in the hills tonight. I was gonna go but I figured I could take you.” You hummed in consideration. He watched you eagerly. 

“Sounds like you have ulterior motives.” 

“I always have ulterior motives.” He was looking down at you with a hopeful gaze. Johnny’s eyes crinkled at the sides. Parties with him were always fun, if not overwhelming. He knew everyone and always wanted to talk to them. He dragged you around like a trophy. But by the end of the night, you were always laughing and always gleefully drunk and happily tied to his side.

He tilted his head. 

“Please?” 

You bit your cheek, making an exaggerated face of contemplation. 

“Alright.” 

“Yes!” He kissed your forehead, giving you finger guns. You rolled your eyes. “I’m gonna go start getting ready. Takes me forever, you know.”

“I know Johnny.” 

“I gotta call the limo.” 

-

“Drink! Over here!” 

“Johnny, you have to order the drink!” you said, laughing. He looked down at you, shaking his head. 

“They’ll figure it out!” “What’cha want man!?” 

“Fuck!” Johnny exclaimed. You laughed, knocking your head against the booth. You were shoved right beside Johnny, close enough where you were practically sitting on him. You had an arm over his shoulders, tracing things into his neck. It was making him restless. Which made him hot. “Something fruity!” 

“For the lady?!” 

“For me! I like fruity things!” Your laughter intensified. He turned back to you. 

“What? What?!”

“Nothing,” you promised. You patted his chest. You were both down a few. It was so loud. The flashing lights made you feel immediately higher than you were, Johnny’s voice drowning into the music. People’s voices were overlapping in excitement, there were bodies on bodies, sweat and spit swapping. 

The waiter gave Johnny some magical drink of unknown origins. He started to drink it immediately. 

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Sonya used to love this shit.” You tensed. You didn’t want to have this conversation here, now. 

“Yeah?” You receded your hand. You put it in your lap. 

“All tough girl but always liked the fruit drinks,” he explained. “Pineapple juice or something.” You grabbed your drink and took a swig. The liquid going down your throat felt good, despite the burn. 

“Hm.” He turned to you, noticing the absence of your touch. 

“You good?” 

“Great!” you lied.

“You sure?” You turned to him. You couldn’t be sure if it was the liquid courage or the environment but it made you want to say something. You wrapped your hands around the glass tightly. 

“You sure talk about Sonya a lot,” you observed. You hadn’t meant for your voice to come off as aggressive as it did. It was fueled by the constant silence, the moments where you bit your tongue. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was a flash of hurt across his eyes but you didn’t catch it. “I mean, if you wanna talk about her that much, you don’t have to do it with me. She’s your ex Johnny.” 

The music muffled in Johnny’s ears. It was like he was watching you speak outside of himself, like it wasn’t him you were speaking to. You were always fun and easy to bounce off of. You never showed any sort of issue with Sonya outwardly. 

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice almost inaudible over the club. 

“C’mon,” you grumbled. “I know all of the dates you guys used to go on. What kind of books she would read, the drinks she would order.” You fidgeted in your seat. You weren’t sitting on top of him anymore. “I mean, it’s like you still love her.” Your voice was laced with venom, all the insecurity behind it coming through. 

Johnny’s big puppy dog eyes fell. He had no idea you felt like that. He wished you had told him before. He started to shake his head aggressively, turning to face you with his entire body. He grabbed your hand gently. His big hand held yours with such soft intentions. 

“I don’t. I swear to you,” he said, trying his hardest to ground his voice. “I don’t love her anymore. I love you.” You didn’t make eye contact with him. “We were just together a long time, some of the stories I wanna tell you have her in it.” 

You finally met his eyes. You felt immediately embarrassed, sobering up quickly. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry I brought it up,” you said, shaking your head. 

“No, it’s something. It clearly bothers you.” He made you face him. His eyes were oozing with concern. He still looked kind of drunk but he could have fooled you. “I’m sorry.” He held your hands tightly, putting your drink back on the counter. 

“Me too.” 

“Don't apologize.” He bit his lip. “Baby.” 

“Johnny.” 

“You wanna dance with me or somethin?” You laughed gently. 

“I do.” 

“I promise I’ll stop bringing her up so much. I don't love anyone but you.” 

“Samesies.” 

“Cool.” 

“Cool.” He gestured with his head towards the dance floor. “Dance?” 

“Or we could skip the dancing all together and go back to the limo?” 

“My girl. My girl, my girl.” He inched closer to you, kissing you cupping your face. You felt entirely consumed by his scent. He stood up, holding your hand. He slipped off his shimmery jacket and handed it over to you. “It’s gonna be cold outside for a minute. Put this on.” “Yes sir.” He moved around the other people at the table, saying quick goodbyes to anyone sober enough to pay attention.  He threw his arm over your shoulder. You put your arm on his hip. He leaned down to whisper to you as you left. He tossed some money on the table. 

“I just wanted to put more clothes on you so I could take them off.” “I know Johnny.” 

“We should get matching tattoos.”

“Johnny, one thing at a time.”

[twst-drabbles]

Octavinelle 16

Summary: You’re in bed. The sun was highest in the sky, bound to dip but you’re still in bed. You get up eventually, knowing there are seafolk pets relying on you to feed them.

(Decided to say fuck it to the funnies and write the mental state that’s been plaguing me. But yeah, just wanted to put emphasis on the fact that I'm not in a state of sadness. I just feel so tired with this constant fog over my own feelings. Oh and this is just over a 1000 words.)

You felt like a low existence, sinking into your bed sheets that haven’t been washed in over three months. There was nothing to mourn about yourself, felt useless to indulge in any sort of sadness really. A bother, basically, to try and feel anything beyond just mild annoyance at your own smells and the too loud and too bright things of the outside.

You look over to your phone, long since overcharged with sticky notifications of habits you’ve broken and missed. You haven’t swiped them away, telling yourself that you’ll get to them eventually but you don’t. You miss a day and tell yourself that it’s fine. That you need a break. Then another break. Another day of rest, another day of being still.

Day after day, day after day. You haven’t been on walk for half a year. You stopped during the winter because your shoes were torn to pieces by a teething Floyd and never had the energy to just buy new ones.

It’s not that bad, really. You’re still alive. You’re not rotting and waiting around to die. You still drink water, you still get a bite to eat, even if it is only enough to make your stomach shut up for an hour. It’s just…

It’s a bother, to wash yourself, to clean your teeth, to go outside and be blinded by the sun, to do the same things you do every day. And it’s a bother to try and do any changes. You just don’t have the energy.

You’re running on empty, and the empty have to rest, because it aches to try and do anything more.

You snuggled deeper into your sheets, piles of blankets on top of you, weighing heavily upon your entire body. And just so you can get more on top of you, you made your room even colder than it ever should be. Just made snuggling into the blankets all the more nicer.

You missed the seafolks’ first feeding in the morning. This was the first time you’ve done this, but you know them to have enough fat to survive missing one feeding. Will they be grumpy? Probably. Pissed at you, most likely. But you also know them to store away any leftovers in their little hiding places. They’ll be fine. They can let you rest for a bit.

The left side of yourself has gotten a little pinched, a bit numb. You closed your eyes for just a little bit and woke up to suddenly three in the afternoon. You’ve laid on your side for too long again. You felt annoyed and when you felt a pulse in your head and a tightening of your stomach, only then did you bother to push yourself up.

You’re tired, you’re hungry and you’re thirsty. The nap did nothing but made breathing harder and your eyes drier than anything. But it was enough. It was enough to get you annoyed with laying in bed. So you reached over and drank your water. You didn’t want to brush your teeth, so you just used your gulp of water to wash around your mouth before swallowing it. Then you drank water again to refresh.

You finished the bottle and tossed it in the overflowing trashcan filled with other empty bottles. You got out of bed and walked out your room. You didn’t bother with shoes or getting into different clothes. You’re tired as is.

The blood has finally reached your head and the pulsing came back, this time behind your eyes. You had to squint as you opened the door to seafolks tank.

You heard three distinct chirps, all much closer than you expected.

You looked to the back, seeing the tank popped open once more, then you looked down just as Jade and Floyd were bodied by Azul right before they could munch on your big toe. Ah, you haven’t clipped your nails in a while. You just noticed that.

Floyd’s little claws clicked against the floor as he struggled to Azul off of him. Jade’s usually behaved self was replaced with a growling little eel, his jaws clicking and gritting as he whipped his tail about.

“…alright,” you rasped out, putting a hand to the wall as you guided yourself to the food you stored away, “yeah, probably should’ve expected this…”

Azul finally knocked their heads together and made the eels behave. You almost wanted to laugh, but the feeling was too vague to make physical. It was only a twitch of a smile you gave out as you dragged out a bag of cold whole fish. You had a fridge stored in here since you didn’t want your regular fridge to smell like their foods.

You closed the fridge and carefully slid yourself down to the floor. Even that task was tiring. You can feel your heart pumping beneath your ribs. You had to lean against the fridge just to cool yourself down for a bit.

Azul, evidently proud of his defending of you, basically strutted towards you with a grumpy and limp Floyd and an equally grumpy Jade who was huffy, but behaving.

Azul finally looked at you, at your eyes and your greasy skin and unwashed clothes. He tiled his head. You ignored that.

“Hey,” you greeted as you ripped open the bag and watched them all perk up, “Sorry about that. Here.”

You pulled out the fattiest fish into the air. Floyd shot out of Azul’s grasp, but was grasped by Jade’s own claw. Jade pushed his brother behind him and shot after the fish. He clamped his jaws right into its belly and now you have both a fish and an eel hanging from your hand.

You gently set it down so he can rip it up in peace. Floyd, not to be defeated, sunk his teeth into the head and immediately started to pull it apart. Messy eaters. All of them.

You shivered as Azul pulled himself onto your lap. He gave a low whistle at you and opened his mouth wide.

“Ah,” hand-feeding, huh? He’s feeling rather spoiled today doesn’t he? “Here.”

You gave him something small just so he doesn’t make a mess on your lap. Fish smell isn’t exactly nice.

“Oh,” you jumped just as Jade and Floyd coordinated together to bring their meal onto your lap behind the munching Azul, “Oh, gross.”

Well, so much for that. Cold, slimy, your sense really hate you right now. Well, you suppose this is fine. They’re having fun and it’s not like showering is that bad. You needed one anyway. Well, no not a shower. A bath. A bath isn’t bad. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand that long anyway.

Well, you’ll get one right after you have something to eat. You’re kind of tired of snacks, so you might heat up some hearty leftovers. After everyone has finished eating. You don’t feel like leaving right now.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 39

Notes: I'm baaaack! I had a LOVELY vacation! Tons of fun! All up until the very last day when I got a severe sinus infection and then had to fly home with it and- NEVER fly with a sinus infection, people! It is apparently very dangerous. I had no idea. Long story short, my ears no longer are working properly, I have enough snot to fill an olympic swimming pool, and I am in a constant state of dizziness and am basically drunk. SO. Be patient with me. But I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer than I already have. So enjoy the chapter and hopefully it makes sense despite being typed in my very drunken state of mind. If not, I'll just fix it later. Smh.

Summary: Shadow and Sonic discuss insecurities.. The Black Arms Invasion is discussed.

UC Masterpost!

Link to MY AO3!

Start:

Shadow has no idea how the heck he got here.

Everything had been going relatively well. This world’s version of Rose turned up with the green chaos emerald she had found while visiting a friend on Seaside Island which had brought them to a solid five emeralds, only in need of two more which isn’t half bad for only being at this for a couple of days.

Not to mention that Amy brought a sense of comfort and familiarity Shadow hasn’t really gotten here thus far. 

Rouge had been nice to see and have around, yes, but this version of Rouge was more standoffish with him. Wouldn’t have much to do with him— which he’s never admit bothered him as much as it actually did.

However, Amy Rose?? She was consistent in both worlds, it seems. A friendly face with a loving heart that was open to Shadow despite him being a bit more grouchy than her typical Shadow.

She had approached him immediately, hugging him and assuring him that they’d get him back home soon.

‘Oh, you poor thing! I can’t imagine how overwhelming all of this must be for you. We’ll have no fear, Amy Rose is here! And I’m here to make sure your time here is as relaxed as it possibly can be! Care for some tea to help calm your nerve??’

She was a godsend, really.

And he did in fact very much appreciate her tea. It definitely was a lot more soothing for him than the infinite amount of coffee he’s been digesting. He was starting to get jittery.

They were just sitting down to properly enjoy their tea and chat with one another about the differences of their worlds when the echidna had come running inside announcing they’d made contact with his own world.

And well.. that went to shit real quick.

It was nice at first. Wholesome. And Shadow would never admit it aloud, but he really did feel better seeing Sonic look so happy. So relieved. All wagging tail and grinning mouth and teary eyes. He was the epitome of joyous at his verbal reunion with his partner. And despite feeling a bit odd hearing his own voice speaking so softly towards the blue hedgehog, it was.. good. 

Sonic needed this..

Speaking of Sonic, his own had piped up at one point and..

It did odd things to Shadow’s stomach.

‘How’s our Shadow??’ he had asked. And while he’s been hearing that obnoxious voice plenty the past several days thanks to being close and personal with this world’s Sonic, there was something about knowing it was his world’s Sonic asking how he was doing that made it.. different.

He had spoken up, being even more thrown off by how ecstatic his own Sonic had sounded hearing from him. How relieved. He hadn’t been expecting it..

They quickly return to their typical banter, trading a few one-liners about Shadow being a grouch and Sonic being an idiot. Typical. Familiar.

He can’t help but smile to himself..

And that’s when the shit hit the fan.

Turns out Alternate Shadow hasn’t informed the team back in normal Shadow’s world about his and Alternate Sonic’s relationship.

Specifically, he hasn’t informed Sonic.

Sonic sounded shocked to say the least.

Shadow stayed quiet through most of it, arms crossed with a small frown on his muzzle as he watches this world’s Sonic become more and more worked up. His blue quills rising defensively, tail no longer wagging and instead pointing in agitation while his ears are folded back in disappointment.

All signs of a not-so-happy hedgehog.

Which makes for a not-so-happy conversation.

“You know what??? Whatever. None of this is essential anyway, so I’m just gonna go do essential things. Here’s Tails.”

Then Sonic was shoving the mic away from himself and standing from the chair with a huff, Shadow frowning and furrowing his brows at the actions that he himself deemed a bit dramatic. Especially when Sonic had been showing so much maturity and wisdom when preaching at him in the kitchen earlier about Shadow running from his identity crisis.

Talk about insecurities. The hedgehog was a hypocrite.

“Sonic-!” Amy called to try and calm him down only for him to tear out of the garage with a sonic boom in his wake and a streak of blue behind.

Amy frowns with a sigh, hugging her arms around herself as she looks in the direction he disappeared off into.

Tails takes over talking to the other world’s group, Shadow turning to face Knuckles with a glare.

“Did you have to tease him about his partner potentially cheating on him??”

“You what?!” Amy gasps, her empathy turning to fury and being directed at the red echidna now.

Knuckles holds his hands up in surrender, eyes wide as he backs away from Amy who looks on the verge of summoning her hammer.

“Wait wait wait—! I was just joking! Come on! How was I suppose to know he’d take it so seriously???”

“You know how he takes everything to heart even if he pretends not to!” Amy growls, her hands moving to her hips as she backs Knuckles into a corner. Rouge sits perched on the nose of the Tornado looking amused by this entire thing.

Shadow just sighs and rubs his fingers into his temples, closing his eyes a moment as the team continues their bickering..

Sonic will be back.

He just needs time to cool off. Think rationally.

His emotions are high right now for a variety of reasons. He simply needs some space..

He expects him to be back within an hour realizing how stupid he was being and how childish. 

But sunset came and went, and there was still no sign of the blue hedgehog late into the night.

So Shadow takes matters into his own hands.

“I’m gonna go after him,” he announces, standing from his seat on the couch and moving towards the door. It’s ridiculous how much of an effect this idiot has on him no matter what world he’s in. Always cleaning up the fool’s messes.

“Uhh- is that the best idea???” Amy asks with knitted brows, rising from her own chair now. They had both been sitting in the living room waiting up for Sonic. She’s dressed in pajamas— a red tank top and white fuzzy shorts with her socks and gloves still on. Her red headband replaced by a red scrunchie holding her hair up in a loose bun. 

Knuckles and Rouge turned in for some sleep— heading out earlier to search for the last two emeralds. Tails is still in the workshop fidgeting with the radio, but Shadow saw him nodding off before he left him be, so he imagines he’ll be turning in soon— if he hasn’t already fallen asleep at his workbench.

“Why wouldn’t it be??”

“Well,” she rubs the back of her neck, “Because he’s gone because he’s upset at his Shadow.. so maybe seeing you will make him emotional again?”

“He’s not upset at his Shadow, he’s upset because he acted foolishly, and I’m sure he realizes that. He’s likely embarrassed.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighs, “But this still isn’t your world.. I don’t think you should be running around alone out there—“

“I can take care of myself, Rose,” Shadow assures with a tiny hint of a smile her direction, Amy seeming to visibly relax at this reassurance, “If I’m not back before sunrise, you can wake the others and come looking. But I’ll be back before two hours, tops.”

She seems hesitant still. Unsure. But after giving it some thought, she gives in and nods with a little frown, “Okay.. but please be careful. And please go easy on him.”

“No promises,” he huffs, turning and walking out the door.

And he knows just where to look.

———

Crawling into the tree he had been to only a few days ago, Shadow can’t help but wonder what he’s about to stumble upon. He’s fairly confident the blue hedgehog will be here since this was introduced as one of his comfort spots, and despite how he may have acted earlier, he knows he’s missing his partner. He just wonders if he’ll find him angry. Or sad. Shadow rather him be angry, honestly. He could deal with angry. He didn’t know how to deal with Sonic being sad.. And frankly, neither did Sonic.

Ducking through the narrow passageway under the ground and through the siding of the mountain, he reaches the hole at the end in the roof of the cave. The vine used to climb up isn’t there, being lifted as a sign of not wanting to be bothered. 

Lucky for Shadow, he has air shoes.

Kicking them in hover-mode, he allows the fumes to slowly lift him off the ground and up through the hole. Peeking out, he finds Sonic there a few feet away sitting amongst the greenery with his knees hugged to his chest..

Shadow sighs through his nose, turning his air shoes off to land on the edge of the hole and slowly step towards him.

He doesn’t speak. Neither does Sonic.

Walking forward until he’s at the hedgehog’s side, he crouches down to sit; once again careful not to smoosh any flowers if he can help it. Sonic doesn’t react, only pulls his legs tighter against himself and buries his mouth into his knees.. Long nose peeking out over them. Shadow’s lips purse, crimson eyes watching the blue hedgehog that just stares ahead at nothing in particular. He can see how fast the hero’s mind is travelling. How despite his current stillness, his head hasn’t stopped moving. 

Shadow knows that feeling all too well.

He sighs from his nose, looking ahead as well to simply take in the moonlit view along with Sonic. Quiet.

They stay like this a long moment.

Shadow just being there with Sonic, so he doesn’t have to be alone..

But he promised Rose two hours. So they can’t stay here all night.

“...You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

Sonic huffs, chuckling with a small headshake though there’s no amusement in the laugh. More of a scoff than anything.

“You’ve only reminded me of that every chance you’ve gotten since being here.” “Well, don’t do idiotic things, and I wouldn’t have a reason to remind you.”

“What do you want??”

Sonic’s tone is sharp. Trying to give off hostility, but Shadow sees right through it. He hears the ache.. The need for comfort.

“..I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine. So you can go now.” “You have everyone worried.. Especially Rose.” “She’ll be fine. She knows I’ve been through way worse.” “Perhaps that’s why she’s so worried.” Sonic frowns at that, glancing at Shadow out of the corner of his eyes before moving to rest his chin on his knees rather than having it hidden behind his thighs.

“...Don’t act like you know anything any of us have been through.”

“I don’t claim to,” Shadow shakes his head, knowing this is just Sonic trying to avert from the real problem. Him. “But I know what worrying for a friend is like.. And it’s no picnic.”

“Yeah, well then maybe you should go back and let her know I’m fine.” “I don’t intend on returning without you.” Sonic huffs at that, seeming frustrated by Shadow’s persistence but not surprised by it.

“Can’t I just pout in peace?” “So you admit you’re pouting?” Shadow’s brow quirks, head turning to look at Sonic now with a small tilt.

“Yeah, well, I have plenty of reason to be upset,” Sonic remarks defensively, lifting his chin from his knees and turning to glare at Shadow.

“Oh please, Hedgehog, I think we both know you were being a bit dramatic. Your Shadow wouldn’t–” “As if you would know anything about our relationship- about any relationship,” Sonic snaps, brows furrowed and jaw locked.

Every instinct in Shadow screams to match his energy. Give him the same hostility he’s receiving. But he knows that won’t help anything.. So after a long moment of the two just glaring at one another in a challenging sort of way.. Shadow takes a deep breath in and exhales it out slowly.

“You’re right. I don’t know what your relationship consists of. Nor do I know your whole history together or what you’ve been through… But I know myself. And while I am quite different than your version of me, I would like to believe we’re alike enough that I can confidently say I would never even dream of hurting someone I love like that..”

Sonic frowns at this, his scold melting into something a bit more achy and pained.. Green eyes drift away as he looks down at his shoes in thought.

“..I have never been in a relationship. But this-.. It’s not because I don’t recognize what goes into them,” Shadow explains quietly, voice calm and gentle, “I know it takes hard work.. And understanding and communication.. And plenty of patience. I also know it takes loyalty. An undeniable and unquestioning amount of it.”

Sonic’s ears flatten against his head as he listens, arms tightening around his knees as if seeking comfort from them. Like he wants to curl up and hide away in a little ball.

“..I never considered a relationship not because I’m incapable of it.., but simply because I… I feel undeserving of one,” Shadow admits honestly, “I don’t want to drag anyone into my hellhole of a mess. Don’t want to have someone have to deal with my past and try to make a future out of it when I myself struggle to most of the time.” Sonic’s eyes lift to look at Shadow, greens becoming misty as if he wants to disagree and tell him that he shouldn’t think such things but simply doesn’t have the energy to do so right now.

Shadow continues before he can anyway, “So I know how serious relationships are.. I know those who can manage them are admirable.. And I know that if I ever found someone I trusted enough to let in and begin one with?? The thought of even looking anyone else’s way wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

Sonic lets out a shaky little whine at that, hand lifting to press the heel of his palm to his eye and rub there. Trying not to cry. 

He knew Shadow was right. They may not be the same, but both Shadows were certainly alike in many, many ways. There seems to be traits that simply carry through all worlds and dimensions. Shadow’s being his resilience and determination, his patience, his wisdom, his strength, his honesty… and certainly his loyalty.

Because loyal is one of the top words that come to mind when asked to describe Shadow the Hedgehog..

“Damnit..,” Sonic sniffles out, “I was so stupid..” “Yes,” Shadow nods agreeingly, “But I’m sure the other me won’t hold it against you. It’s not as if it’s your first time.” Sonic gives a breathy chuckle at that, dropping his hand from his face to roll his eyes and give Shadow a sad and teary smile. “Yeah, that’s true..” Shadow offers his own tiny smile in response, brows knitting slightly as he slowly reaches a palm out to pat Sonic’s back. It’s a bit awkward, but he’s trying.

“But why wouldn’t he tell your Sonic about us??” Sonic asks with a small sniffle, rubbing his gloved wrist across the underside of his nose. “Well, there’s a lot of possible answers to that,” Shadow sighs, leaning back on his own hands now as he looks up at the starry sky, “My Sonic is an idiot just like you, you see. So having a bombshell like ‘an alternate version of you and your rival are madly in love in another universe’ dropped on him would likely elicit some pretty extreme reactions.” Sonic hums at that, head tilting in thought as he ponders this a moment, “..So you’re saying the alternate me is probably giving him hell right now?” “Oh, absolutely.” “That makes me feel a little better,” Sonic chuckles again, wiping the last of his building tears from his eyes and sighing with a quiet groan, “I’m so embarrassed– He’s probably pissed at me for ruining our first talk since this whole mess started. I mean– how petty was that?? I haven’t heard from my boyfriend in over a week because he’s trapped in an alternate dimension. We’re all potentially gonna die. And instead of taking any time left given to talk to him, I throw a fit over the idea of him cheating on me. And with another version of me, at that!” Shadow hums a chuckle with a shrug, “Pretty petty.” “So petty,” Sonic groans and rubs his hands down his face in frustration with himself before throwing them into the air and falling backwards onto his back dramatically.

Shadow smirks a bit, watching the blue hedgehog laying there beside him dealing with the dumb mistake he’s made..

“..Perhaps it’s more than the secrecy of your relationship in the other world that’s bothering you..” Sonic purses his lips at that, brows furrowing in thought as he looks back down to his shoes.

“..What if-.. What if he doesn’t like me as much as that other version?..”

Shadow sighs at this, opening his mouth to reiterate his alternate’s undying loyalty only for Sonic to stop him.

“No, no, just– hear me out.. He would never cheat on me, you’re right. He’s much too loyal for something like that. But he-.. He could develop feelings? Maybe your Sonic is a better match for him. Maybe he talks to me again and finds that he enjoys talking to your Sonic far more. Maybe he-..” Sonic’s voice cuts short, cracking as the blue hedgehog feels himself getting worked up again. He pauses to take a deep breath before sighing out, “Maybe he doesn’t want to come home..”

Shadow frowns at this, watching how Sonic’s glossy eyes stare at the stars in the sky above them.. the half blown up moon that’s shards still linger here and there. Littered in the black abyss of space.

He knows he’s wondering if the alternate Shadow is looking at that moon too.. 

After a moment, Shadow sighs and lays himself down beside Sonic. His hands crossed over his stomach as the flowers tower and loom around him. Framing the two of them in their spot. He knows he’s gonna be picking petals out of his quills for days after this— ugh.

His own eyes raise to the sky then.. looking at that moon..

And maybe-… maybe his Sonic is looking at it right now, too… or an alternate version of it, at least.

He finds himself wondering if Sonic thinks of him when he looks at the moon the way Shadow thinks of Sonic.. he wonders if he regrets that day during the ARK battle.. how he couldn’t save Shadow.

He wonders if it ever even crosses his Sonic’s mind the way it lingered so heavily on this one’s..

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Shadow says simply after a long moment of silence, his voice almost sad. Melancholic. Longing..

Sonic’s head turns, Shadow can feel his gaze on his profile.

“How could you know that?..”

“Because my Sonic—“ Shadow sighs, catching himself as he shakes his head and corrects, “the Sonic from my world.. He doesn’t feel the way you do. About me.”

Sonic is quiet at that. His head turning back to the sky. Shadow sighs through his nose, finding himself really thinking about this fact for the first time ever. He never really allowed himself to before.. to wonder why Sonic didn’t look for him after the fall. To contemplate that Sonic may just have thought the world was simply better off without him.

While Shadow has the thoughts quite often about himself, for whatever reason the idea of Sonic having them felt… devastating.

Before all this mess, he simply believed that Sonic thought him dead and that was that. Never looked too much into it. But now?.. Now he wondered.. what made Sonic give up on him so quickly.

It was a selfish thing to think, he knows. And it was silly to care. But deep down despite his dismay for even being associated with the blue idiot at times, he always admired him. Respected him. Held him at a higher regard than anyone else. He truly did want Sonic’s approval, his nod of confirmation, his respect and positive attention. The times Shadow has managed to truly disappoint Sonic have been few but every single one have lingered for a long, long time. Never left him. Always haunted him.

Sonic was good.

He wanted to be good in Sonic’s eyes..

He’d never admit such a thing, he’d die before doing so..

But it was a secret truth he carried deep inside himself.

“My Shadow almost killed me.”

Shadow blinks at that, knocked from his train of thought as though he had been going a million miles an hour and suddenly was at zero. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“I-..”

“Sorry, that was-,“ Sonic sighs and rolls his eyes at himself, realizing his error, “That was a bit heavy and sudden, huh?? I meant that.. I know what you’re thinking. That you.. went too far. That you’re too bad. That your Sonic doesn’t look at you the way I look at my Shadow because you’re just too bad, right??..”

Shadow blinks, head turning to look at Sonic now and their eyes meeting again. He hesitates. Then nods slowly..

Sonic smirks slightly then looks back to the sky, “Yeah. Figures. My Shadow is always way too hard on himself, too.. But what I was sayin’ was.. From what you’ve told me, your life has honestly been kinda mellow compared to my Shadow’s in terms of bad choices.”

“‘Mellow’?” Shadow scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking back to the stars, “I’m afraid my bad choices are vast. You underestimate—“

“My Shadow teamed with Doom during the Black Arms Invasion,” Sonic interrupts again, once again rendering Shadow speechless for a long moment.

Shadow.. doesn’t know what to say to that. Or how to even comprehend it. How could-… how could a Shadow that was found and surrounded by so many people who loved and took care of him ever team with Doom?

“..What happened?”

“It’s.. a long story. A lot of shit happened in the details, and I’ll skip all that for the sake of.. I don’t know. Making it easier on me to talk about,” Sonic chuckles awkwardly, Shadow’s brows knitting at that.

“We don’t have to—“

“No, no. I-.. I want to,” the hero clarifies with a little shrug, his eyes staying on the sky since it’s too hard to look at Shadow in that moment.. 

“..So from what you’ve said, you pretty much sided with us through the Black Arms Invasion?” “More or less..” “Heh, well… my Shadow? He.. he did at first, of course. It wasn’t a few weeks after we found him like it was for you, though. I think we found him sooner after the ARK Battle than the Rouge in your world found your Shadow is why. I spent only a month searching for Shadow before I found him, and then we had four together before Metal Sonic started kicking up his trouble.. The Black Arms invasion came a few weeks after that.” This was certainly different to Shadow’s own timeline where he was awoken five months after the ARK Battle during the Metal Sonic fiasco. The Black Arms was two weeks after, and he wasn’t emotionally connected to anyone at that point. Just lost and confused.. Easily manipulated and searching desperately for his place in this world.

“Black Doom took to Shadow like a parasite. He had him in his head, manipulating and moving his memories around to his liking, making Shadow believe things that never happened and see things that hadn’t yet happened. He didn’t tell anyone. He hid it, not wanting any of us to worry or be scared of him while his own fear of himself just kept growing and growing.. I didn’t even know until it was too late..”

Shadow can hear the guilt in Sonic’s voice. How he blamed himself for not seeing it sooner, for not knowing what was happening before Black Doom’s claws had been so neatly fitted around his Shadow’s neck..

This seemed to be an ongoing trend for them: blaming themselves for the others’ misfortunes.

“And by then Black Doom had Shadow… exactly where he wanted him,” Sonic sighs quietly, his brows furrowing as he remembers it all.. Flashes of the large almost ethereal monster Shadow had become. Dark tentacles, looming wings, sharp and long teeth and claws, so many glowing red eyes staring him down with piercing yellow pupils. How he wasn’t at all himself. How he was lost to something more sinister. Possessed by a higher power.. An heir to an end.

Sonic feels the lump in his throat throb when he swallows, his eyes growing more and more misty again. And he doesn’t want to cry anymore, so he simply takes a deep breath and shuts them as he sighs it out.

“In the end, everything turned out okay. We got him back. That’s what’s important.” It’s obvious that Sonic isn’t going to go anymore into it. Not yet, anyway. Not right now. Shadow doesn’t push it..

Instead, he reaches a hand over slowly and lets the backs of his fingers ever so slightly brush against the blue hedgehog’s. Simply letting him know he’s there. That he’s not alone. Not back in whatever place this talk has taken him to.

The corner of Sonic’s lips curl upwards at that, sighing as his eyes open again to look back at Shadow. A bit teary, but not shedding anymore.

“So trust me when I say… My Shadow and I have quite literally been to hell and back, and I only love him more. Whatever your Sonic is thinking about you, it’s not that you’re not good. If anything, it’s that he’s not.”

Shadow frowns at that, brows furrowing in confusion at that response. Why would Sonic think he himself isn’t good?? That’s all that dumb hedgehog is is good.

Still, he doesn’t argue on this. Just stores this knowledge away for later to ponder and contemplate on.

Sonic’s hand reaches up then, plucking a tiny piece of petal from Shadow’s quills and smirking as he drops it between them. Shadow watches it flitter to the ground.

“...It sounds like we both are talking to the wrong alternate of each other..”

“Yeah,” Sonic huffs, his smile growing a bit tired and wary as his eyes lift back to Shadow’s, “I gotta agree with you on that one.”

[vrisrezis]

Comfort with atsv characters <3

Warnings?: reader is Latino/Latina, reader is a spider person, can you tell I wrote this at like 2 AM? (Spoilers for atsv). Is it obvious I don’t read the comics based off of hobie and pav? Also all the spiders are able to understand Spanish so 👍🏾 reader is hinted to be bisexual in Peter B’s (they also cannot have children), reader isn’t gendered but in Jessica’s they certainly are not a male,

Gwen is quiet, but you allow it. Miguel didn’t tell you much of what happened in Gwen’s dimension, but it clearly bothered her, whatever it was. It was just one of those very nights where she was bothered about her situation. She didn’t ever talk about it, rather she just sat in silence for awhile and then you’d make her some tea in hopes of easing any nerves or pain. She felt bad crashing at your place all the time like this, so much so she tried bothering hobie every once in awhile so that her staying at your home wasn’t as constant. You tried to remind her that this is what partners do, they look out for eachother when they need it the most. Staying at eachothers places when one of them is pretty much homeless is included in that.

Honestly though? Selfishly she enjoyed it. Maybe it was because she simply enjoyed your company, or because you were sweet enough to let her share a bed with you and she got to watch you sleep. She got to see all your features up close in your most peaceful moments. But of course, she missed her home. She missed her dad. She missed when things didn’t suck. She missed Peter too.

You’re both on the roof of your house. She’s thinking about things, deeply. She thinks about her life, her place in the world, She almost starts to cry, but she’s still holding back, holding back as much as she possibly can right now. It’s the first time you see her like this, and you feel relieved. You’re relieved because you know she’s been going through so much, but has been trying so hard to keep it inside.

“Mi amor, por favor, no reprimas tus sentimientos. Está bien llorar, somos tú y yo.” you say, putting your hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Not wanting to be too intimate in case she became uncomfortable in such a state. But you don’t have to worry as she grabs the hand on her shoulder and intertwines your fingers.

She finally allows her tears to flow. More then flow, they stream down like a ocean of tears. In the midst of it, she hugs you and you hug her back. Pulling her into your chest and she can’t help but feel safe in your arms.

“I’m so sorry.” she says in between sobs

“Don’t be. Te Amo. I will always be here for you, yknow? No need to hold back for me.”

Miles puts his head on your shoulder. He’s quiet, and unsure what he should say next. But you don’t say anything, and you decide he should be the one to speak first. He wraps his arms around your middle, and you change positions so his cheek is smushed on your chest now, your arms wrap around his waist. You could fall asleep like this, but you’re determined to stay up until miles tells you what’s on his mind. Even if you already know, he should let it out and talk about it. He always ends up telling you what’s bothering him, he’s practically an open book. At least in your mind, though you do suppose he is good at keeping secrets from others. Not the point though, you were there when it all transpired. You know what he’s upset about.

“How are we gonna get home?” miles finally asks, confirming your suspicions. He truly had no idea what he was doing, and what either of you were going to do. You’re both stuck in the wrong dimension with no way to get home. “How am I gonna save my dad?” he wonders aloud. You’re not sure yourself, you opt for one of your hands reaching for his back and rubbing his back in a circular motion as a means to comfort him.

“I don’t know.” you admit, but you continue before he could say anything, “but what I do know, is that you can do anything. Even the impossible. Eres el hombre más increíble que conozco. You’ll figure it out.”

miles shakily sighs, “I don’t know.” he says, so unsure of himself. “You don’t have to.” you say, “give yourself a moment. Recollect yourself. Cry if you need. Te protegeré.”

He truly doesn’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for him, continue to do for him. The support and love you’ve always given him, the advice you’ve given him, he knows there’s truly nobody quite like you.

There’s a moment of silence between you and hobie. While this wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence when the two of you just chilling out, this time felt very different. Instead of a rather calm and tired expression at this time of night he seemed so defeated, though that tiredness seemed more like exhaustion. And you come to the conclusion a canon event had to have happened for him to wear such a sad expression. It was only recently he had taken upon the role as spiderman in his dimension, or as everyone called him, spiderpunk. You know the whole spider thing is new to him, how stressful it can be to be on your own like this. You’ve been there too, and not that long ago. In your dimension you’ve only been a spider person for a couple months.

You stand up from your place on the couch, walking up to him. You want to feign surprise, not knowing what’s happening. But you know. And you know that he knows, as he always does. Spider people typically aren’t good at lying. “You know, dontcha.” he simple says, voice rather quiet for somebody like him. “Yeah.” you eventually say, “it happens to all of us.” you admit. “For Miguel it was his wife, his daughter. For Peter it was his uncle. For me it was my mother. This is just.. part of the course.” you say, as if it’s just something to shrug off. Hobie can’t help but feel sick to his stomach upon you doing that, cause it doesn’t feel like the you he knows. The you he knows wouldn’t stand for some… cycle, some faux destiny. It’s not like you to just give up and treat something like this as just… it.

But he’s too upset to press you about it, so he rests his forehead on your shoulder and no longer says any words. You wrap your arms around him in an embrace and he allows it. “I know you probably have a lot of questions.” you say, and he’s always taken aback at how you’re the only person he’s ever met that can read him like a book. Then again, spider people are not good liars.

“For now, what I’ll tell you is this.” you start, “you’re going to lose people. It’s going to happen if you continue this line of work. The hard lesson to learn about this job is that we can’t save everyone. At least, not alone.” you continue, “but together, we can.” you say, and upon these words he feels a bit more relieved that you hadn’t fallen down some algorithm. You haven’t given up nor are you falling in line with some dumbass rules Miguel has set up.

“I can’t exactly provide you the best advice.” you admit, “pero siempre estaré aquí apoyándote. Puedes contar con ello.” you say, and hobie smiles for the first time that day.

Pavitr has never been like this, but it’s to be expected. At least, in your mind.

He clutches you like a lifeline, and if it weren’t for your super amazing spider strength you think you’d be in a ton of pain right now with the way pav is holding onto you.

You’re not even the one that nearly died. Pav nearly lost his best friend, gayatri as well as her father who also seemed to mean a lot to him. You don’t know much about him and singhs relationship, but you know it’s rather complex. Pretty hard on Pav and his friendship with his daughter, assuming they have a romantic relationship or something along the line. But this very man seems to adore Spider-Man. So naturally, complicated. But didn’t change the fact he meant a lot to Pavitr. He almost lost him. He almost lost two important people in his life. And if he almost lost them, could he have lost you?

He tries to reason with himself, you’re strong and can handle yourself fine but what if…?

“¡Basta!” you say, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard you yell at him. Because of this it’s quick to snap him out of the daze he seemed to be in. He can’t help but let a few tears slip out. You put your hands on his cheeks, worry seeping through your eyes. “Odio cuando haces eso. No me va a pasar nada, cariño. Puedo protegerme así que no te atrevas a preocuparte por mí.”

You wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “Mi amor, we’re gonna be okay.”

Peter sighs, and from that moment you know somethings wrong. You’ve known this Peter in particular a long time, there’s something obviously weighing on him. It certainly helps you’ve gotten to know so many versions of him, so many peters and so many of them are horrible liars. He is no exception.

You can’t help but wonder if it’s MJ related, which tugs are your heartstrings a bit. But you understand him, he lost his love. His first love in fact, and he’s not willing to let her go. You understand. You remember your first love, Gwen. Just a pretty blonde in your science class, but you fell hard. And so did she. To her death, that is.

You sit next to him on the balcony, “wanna talk about it?” you offer, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him. “I don’t know.” he admits, but as soon as he says that he feels himself leaning on you.

“Have you ever thought of becoming a parent?” he asks, and you can’t help but be surprised by his question.

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “Yeah, I suppose.” you shrug, “not that I’d be able to have one, but yeah.”

“Really?” he wonders, and you nod. “Both me and Gwen, at least in my dimension, were physically unable to have kids. The same went for me and my own Peter.” you shrug, “not that I was interested at the time though. It’s moreso a ‘what if I could’ situation.”

“I want a kid.” he admits.

“So did MJ, and she still wants a kid.”

You feel your heart sink for a moment, before deciding it was his time of need, not yours. You’re both far too old for shit like this. You’ll move on. Like you always do.

“I could give her what she wants.” he continues.

“But I don’t know if… I can? I guess?”

“What do you mean?” You inquire.

“It’s a lot of things. I mean, what if I’m a bad dad? What if I’m not there enough? And besides that point, even if I do go through with this, the kid would have to deal with having parents that aren’t even together.”

It takes a minute for you to process his words, especially the last part. “Wait… why wouldn’t you two be together?” he shrugs, “because she deserves better.” he says, but it doesn’t seem like the full truth. “And besides I wanna be with somebody else.”

He tries to be subtle with his next words, “they can’t have kids, so I think this is a next best option. At least, when I’m ready and they’re ready and we’ve been dating long enough where it wouldn’t be weird to ask.”

You can’t help but wonder if it’s you he’s talking about.

But for the time being, you ignore it and put an arm around his shoulder, “Pues deja de preocuparte. Serías un gran padre.”

he cracks a smile and thanks you.

Jessica is always well put together, it’s something you’ve always known about her. But there’s something off about her.

You think you know what’s up, but you know better than to think you know everything going on with Jess. She’s not exactly an open book, only is when she wants to be.

She kept a lot of her personal life away from you, as a means to protect you from that. Either that or she wanted her privacy, which you also understood.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to touch her stomach, admire it, the excitement of a new life was adorable in your eyes. But her relationship with her husband was something she never relayed to you, she never talked about him and if she ever did it was briefly. A part of you wondered if it was because she knew how you felt and wanted to spare you. A part of you hoped that was all it was, and that there was nothing else going on.

But you’d be wrong, as you often were.

She lets a few tears shed, and it’s the first time you’ve seen her cry.

“I don’t think I love him anymore.” she finally admits, and you have a feeling it’s the first time she’s admitted this to anyone, even herself.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

“I don’t even think I like men, period.”

And this puts you into a even bigger state of shock, woah.

“I think I just wanted a baby.” she continues, “and it didn’t matter who it was with as long as I got one.”

“I thought, it was because I loved him so much I wanted to start a family but…” she turns her head away from you, “I don’t think I ever felt a damn thing for him and I’m scared and I feel so guilty.”

All you can do is wrap a comforting arm around her,

“No pasa nada. Siempre estaré aquí Jessica, lo sabes. Podemos resolver las cosas juntos.”

she leans into you despite her mind telling her to pull away, don’t be soft, don’t give in.

But she does.

She gives in to her deepest desire.

She gives into you.

Miguel is never this clingy. Something is wrong, and you feel it. It’s not just his aura, it’s his body language. It’s the fact that his face is shoved into your stomach, desperate for you to not only not hear him at all, but not see him. You feel his sorrow, his shame, his guilt, his anguish. But most of all you feel his regret and his grief and you automatically know what’s wrong.

You run your fingers through his hair, something he normally hated but in times like these truly loved more than anything and it calmed him down so quickly. He still doesn’t know how you do it, honestly. You make him putty in his hands without even trying and honestly that terrified him. To be so weak, so soft, when it comes to you.

“Vamos, cariño.” you say, “let me see you.”

He’s not quick to comply, but he eventually does with enough head scratching. You sigh at how distraught he looks. You hate this, you really do. You hate seeing him upset, that one injury of yours could send him spiraling like this.

“No voy a morir tan fácilmente, sabes. Ten un poco de fe en mí, ¿quieres?”

“Lo sé.” he replies, shakily.

“I’m just scared of losing you too.”

You kiss the crown of his head, “I know. But trust me when I say a little injury is not going to kill me. I’ll be okay.” you try to reassure him.

He nods, but you have a feeling he doesn’t believe you.

Even after all these years, you don’t know how to help him.

[charmercharm3r]

lay me down gently

KSM

Masterlist

3/8 of The Sleepwear Series

wc: 4.5k

Synopsis: No one understands him the way you do, and he can't help the things you make him feel.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, sub!seungmin, oral (f receiving), furniture humping, scratching/marking, slight orgasm denial, master/pup/puppy, breeding, is this considered pet play? serious question, nice lil aftercare cus its what everyone deserves

He writes in his journal every day, without fail. Not a single soul has seen what it is Seungmin writes about, but he can sit there for a few minutes or a few hours jotting away. He started doing it a little bit after debut, there’s a pile of finished journals all dated in the corner of his room. Of course, the boys asked about what it is he spends so much time writing about, but Seungmin never gives them a straight answer.

Then he met you.

For the past four years, he never skipped a page unless truly necessary. Now, his journal has been sitting on his desk for five months entirely untouched to the point that it was collecting dust.

“I don’t get how airplanes work.”

Seungmin had a towel wrapped around his waist and another rubbing his hair dry as he entered his bedroom. You were laying on your stomach on his bed, scrolling away as he spoke.

“You travel for a living and you don’t know?” You respond, lightly laughing and pulling up google to search for the answer. As you typed you spoke aloud, “how do airplanes fly?”

Your boyfriend tossed the handheld towel into the hamper and hopped on top of the covers next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “I never thought about it before. Now that I have, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Baby, have I ever told you that you think too much?” He turns his head to look at you, then down at your phone.

“Once or twice.”

Google to save the day once again. “Here, something about pressure and the shape of the wings. I never took physics in school.” You handed him the phone and watched as he read over the answer.

“I still don’t get it. How does it stay in the air?” Seungmin used your phone to look closer.

These were usually questions he had for his journal, some deeper than others. A lot of those questions went unanswered and it bothered him to no extent, keeping Seungmin in a constant state of skepticality over anything and everything. Why he never thought to just look up the answer before you, he didn’t know. But now that he has you, he doesn’t stay up at night wondering alone anymore.

You watch as he ponders deeper into the internet. Silken, makeupless features were lit up in the dim glow, charming and lovely as ever. Seungmin always had the smoothest skin, you couldn’t help but pinch at it as he continued to read.

The book on his desk just a few feet away beckoned you to ask another question, “why don’t you write anymore?”

Seungmin barely glanced at the desk, lingering his gaze on you, “I have no need for it.”

“The guys used to tell me you would threaten to beat them up if they even looked at it.”

“I say the same thing about you.” It was so casual how the charm just oozed out of him.

“Kim Seungmin, are you comparing me to a book?”

Eyes wide in fake bewilderment, “only the most important book in my life. Every single thought I’ve had is written in it. That’s why there’s so many.”

“So how do I play into this?”

“Because I have you to listen to every single thought I’m going to have.”

“And that explains why you text me every few minutes whenever we’re apart?”

“Exactly.”

Content with his answer, “okay.”

“Okay.”

Then a thought struck you. “I don’t get boats.” Mouth parted slightly, he gazed up at you. “I mean, I know it’s buoyancy or whatever, but it still doesn’t make sense. How can metal boats float?”

It seemed to strike a nerve in him because his fingers rapidly tapped your phone screen. “Water displacement? I get that,” Seungmin showed you what he’d found, turning over on his stomach to lay like you.

“You get boats but not planes?” A small smile crept upon your face.

This is how nights with him went a lot of the time. He asks a question that leads to another one and another one until suddenly it’s four in the morning and neither of you are remotely tired but have to be up by seven. 

“Yeah, boats don’t get turbulence. I don’t like turbulence.”

“I know you don’t. I also know that most of the ocean is unexplored. If you look up at the sky, that’s all there is.”

“There’s also aliens.” Rolling your eyes, your face planted into the pillow with a sigh. It was going to be another long night. You felt a hand thread through your hair and massage your scalp gently, a low moan escaping your lips as his fingers applied more pressure.

“And stars. Stars are pretty.” Turning to face him, a droplet dripped from his hair onto his lips, only for you to swipe away.

“The ocean is pretty, too.” Seungmin shifted onto his knees, rolling you onto your back for him to climb over your body. He had you pinned to the bed, his large shirt you had on now ridden up and exposing your panty-clad lower half. It wasn’t even a nice pair of panties, just some normal light grey ones that you wore when you wanted to be comfortable. Truth be told they were old and probably a bit too small, snug around your hips and butt and left indents in your skin and the bow on the front was hanging on by a thread, still, better than teeny tiny thongs to wear to bed.

He hovered just above your thighs, body hunched over to bring a chaste kiss to your lips one after another. Both his hands cupped your cheeks while your own landed on his bare thighs where the towel was now slowly coming undone. Kissing him was always saccharine, taking his time to drown in the feeling of your lips on his one of the only things that topped the absurd and alarmingly strange conversations the two of you share. It was a nice contrast, being able to go from talking about anything and everything to not having to say a single word to express how either one of you feel. It’s like you already knew.

Though, the moment didn’t stay sweet. Seungmin ran his tongue over your bottom lip with expertise to which you granted without a fight. Exploring your body was an expedition he never got tired of, letting his hands roam further to fondle your breasts over his shirt for a second before thumbing at the waistline of your panties. The digits traced up and down beneath the tight material, tugging lightly at it before moving to snap the lining around your legs, making you squeak into his mouth in surprise. Big hands found their way beneath your underwear, squeezing your ass and pulling your lower body up to brush against his.

Seungmin disconnected from your lips, “it’s big.” He smirked down at you, kissing your cheek and towards your neck. “And deep. So deep you can get lost in it.” A heavy grind of his cock against your now arousal soaked panties made you quietly keen.

“Are you still talking about the ocean?”

Against the nipped skin of your collar bone, “totally talking about the ocean.”

His knees were sturdy on either side of you as he used his raw strength to keep your body suspended, growing hungry every time you tried to roll up into him. It didn’t take very long for your arousal to soak through, spreading higher and higher up with every dry thrust of the towel shielding away his dick. The flesh of your ass molded around his fingertips, his grip almost slipping because of how rough his grip was. When your own hands found their way around his waist to slip under the towel and guide him harder into you, Seungmin ripped the fabric away all together and tossed it to the floor.

With a relieved sigh, his cock bobbed against his lower stomach, tip red and leaking. He moved off for just a moment to pull your legs from below him, bending and spreading to settle between them. A full view of your sopping pussy, Seungmin smiled almost evilly from his towering position above you. Just two fingertips ran over your pussy lips, feeling the wetness for himself and bringing them to his mouth to taste. A low groan erupted from his chest as Seungmin popped his fingers away, only to move the gusset of your panties to the side.

“Pup, no teasing tonight,” you breathe as he stares at your glistening cunt.

“Promise I won’t,” he says, pushing your panties as far as they’d go. “You lay there and be pretty. I’ll take all the teasing for both of us. Just looking at you makes me wanna blow.” You whined at the mention, “but I won’t. Won’t cum until you finish at least twice.”

Your nails raked hard across his ass and down his thighs, sending a shiver through his spine in a whole bodily reaction. It made you smile and giggle proudly as his dick twitched, knowing the feeling was mutual.

Hearing your giggle echoing throughout his bedroom inspired him. Seungmin shuffled backwards until he stood at the foot of the bed and took hold of your ankles, sliding you across the sheets. He instantly fell to his knees, eye level with your cunt as he draped your knees over his shoulders. Still with your panties pushed to the side, he sucked in a deep breath of your scent.

Before he moved any further, Seungmin looked up at you, eyes wide and chest breathing heavily. You reached for his hands and rested them along the length of your body, keeping a firm grip on his forearms. “Twice. No touching.”

His cock throbbed at the denial, the feeling of the tip tapping against the edge of the covers enough to make him more desperate. “Yes, master,” his handle on your thighs already bruisingly tight.

“Eat, pup.”

Seungmin kept his eyes locked on you as the tip of his tongue ran over your folds, your head falling back into the sheets under his warmth. An unrestrained moan escaped you as he ventured deeper, harder, hardly breathing because the taste of you was like oxygen itself. Seungmin eats pussy like a starved man, taking in as much as possible out of fear that he’d never have it again. He put everything to work, lips suctioning your clit, then tongue dipping into your hole only to have his nose nudging the bundle of nerves again and making your back arch off the bed, even whimpering into your cunt and vibrating through you.

Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches and crescent marks as you attempted to pull him deeper into you. His forearms were decorated in red lines by the time the burning of your first orgasm began to tighten in your stomach, your legs covered in already forming bruises under his hands. Your hips were rising and falling, trying to find the spot that would push you over the edge but Seungmin followed every movement until you held him in place by his still damp hair. Grinding up against his nose you found it, the final rub in just the right way and you filled the air with your wail of pleasure, holding his face snug against your pussy.

His tongue circled your entrance as you came down, opening your eyes to find him already staring at you. Tugging him away, his tongue hung from his mouth, out of breath. “Good puppy,” you praised, breathing just as hard.

You planned to take a second to breathe, not expecting Seungmin to use his teeth to pull at your panties and messily place it over your cunt again. Before you could protest he was already diving back in, lapping at you through the material. The change in texture was already making you squirm as it was faintly tender from overstimulation. You tried to push his head away, but the exhaustion was too great, not enough strength to fight him off. So you laid there and took it, afterall, he did say he’d do all the work.

Sloppy and practically drooling Seungmin was as he ever so gently teethed at your clit. The soaked fabric of your panties cushioned the sharp edges, though it still made you shiver. He reached for the hemline on your hips and tugged them up your body so strongly that it almost took you with it. The outline of your puffy, abused cunt shown through, doused in spit and arousal and it made Seungmin lose his fucking mind. He repeated his earlier actions over and over until you were a whining mess unable to fight the second overstimulated orgasm from erupting. The wet texture of your panties and warmth of his mouth was too good of a combination, paired so well alongside the dizzying vibrations coming from his sinful, hungry moans. You were trapped in your own clothes, drenched in sweat and saliva and the smell of sex, and Seungmin was right, you got lost in it.

You didn’t realize how lost he was, too, thrusting into the air and hoping his dick would hit something, anything for the long awaited friction he craved. The duvet covers weren’t doing enough for him, Seungmin was so desperate that he unconsciously scooted closer to the edge of the bed and found a tender spot in the side of the mattress, silently rutting against it.

He would’ve gotten away with it if he wasn’t manhandling you at this point, standing taller on his knees and taking you with him so your lower half was being held in the air. You looked up, only to find him humping against the bed.

It was hot, really hot. But you’d already told him no and it seemed like he was having too much fun by himself.

One hard tug of his hair away from your cunt made him cease his actions on you, but he couldn’t stop his hips from moving. “Have your fun, puppy. Just don’t cum.” He let out a high pitched wail when you lulled his face back into your pussy.

You were amazed by his multitasking skills. Maybe it was brainless muscle memory that made his mouth work wonders on you while also pushing himself closer to the edge. Honestly, you just wanted to see how far he’d take it, if he’d actually come from just the feeling of a lifeless mattress and the taste of you. “Does it hurt, baby?” You asked, voice airy.

Seungmin nodded, trying hard to focus. “Better hurry and make me cum, then. I don’t like to see my pup hurting.”

“Your pup,” he repeated almost intelligibly, tongue swirling stronger around your clit.

Somehow he still had so much energy, tongue moving with more fervor in messy figure eights. His display of adrenaline and strength to keep you held up was arousing in its own way, you couldn’t stop pushing your hips into his face, just as desperate for another high as he was for his first. He didn’t disappoint, suckling you in with the right amount of pressure to make you tip over the edge again into a borderline painful, blinding orgasm.

When your body relaxed from around his head, Seungmin placed you back onto the bed. His hips stuttered as he tried to stop himself from continuing rutting against the bed, your eyes just barely opening again to see him almost close to crying, eyes glassy and constant, whispered pants falling from his lips.

“D’you want something, baby?” Your words were taunting, most definitely teasing as you spread your knees just a bit wider to get a better glance at the tremble in his lower half. You wanted to call him pathetic, but he was just so cute.

Seungmin nodded rapidly, “want you.”

“Seems like the bed was doing a pretty good job there. You like humping furniture like the dog you are?” He shook his head even faster, “n– no, not dog. Puppy wants you, please, just you.”

It was so hard to tell him no for a second time. So you pulled him in by the back of the neck with your ankles, Seungmin jumped your bones, kissing up your belly and pushing your shirt over your breasts and latching onto your right one while his left hand tweaked the other. Finishing his fun with a deep bite into the skin, he bit more marks along your neck until he reached your lips and crashed into you. He attempted to hold his hips off you, but every time his cock accidentally smacked against your cunt, he’d shudder.

His head buried in your neck, you whispered, “you wanna be my good puppy?” Seungmin mumbled an “mhm,” and bit harder into your neck. You’d pushed him off by the shoulders, watching the desperate look on his face closely as you sat up on your knees and pulled your underwear down. It hadn’t gotten lower than your knees when your boyfriend quickly got to his feet and stood behind you, palming at your love handles.

“Down, boy. No jumping,” you smacked his hand away and he immediately took a step back. Concealing a smile, you fell back onto the bed on your back and heard him emit a small disappointed whine. “C’mere,” coercing him with your underwear hanging off one leg around your ankle, Seungmin hesitantly crawled back on top of you. Then you pulled him down into a sugary kiss, reassuring in more ways than one as hands hiked your knees around his waist and your nails dragged against his scalp. Almost as soon as you guided his cock towards your entrance, he’d lost his mind.

From the get-go he thrusted into you at a steady pace, your relaxed cunt welcoming him with hot, slick walls. Lewd skin on skin barely overshadowed the bounciness of your moans with every hard tap of his cock against your soft spot. From the back of his head, down his neck, and across almost every inch of his back did you leave searing, on the brink of bleeding scratch marks. And Seungmin loved every bit of it, it reminded him of his place, who he belongs to now and who he belongs to in the morning. Every line you drew along his body was like a collar and you held the leash, he just wished you’d actually put one on him.

He practically cried at the wetness that engulfed him, blinking away tears because of the stark contrast between the rough bed and your delicious pussy. Shaking, heavy breaths were all he could manage as your cunt sucked him in, not a single other thought when the sting mixed so, so good with the pleasure. You tried to be subtle in the areas you left your mark, but he wore oversized clothes anyways. By the time he was starting to lose rhythm the entirety of his back and biceps were criss-crossed covered.

He let out a whiney, high pitched mewl, telling you he was close. But that wasn’t enough. He was good for you tonight, but not that good. He could always be better– his words, not yours. There was always a chance for him to be a better puppy. Like now.

A stutter in his thrusts allowed a short window for you to scoot up the bed and let his cock fall from your pussy, not without a sour complaint from your boyfriend. “N– no, no, why?! So close!”

“That’s why, pup. Down,” he slouched back on his heels, cock unashamedly twitching and  leaking precum like it was the only thing his body could produce.

You moved to kneel highly and peer down at him ever so slightly, hand finding his cheeks puffy and blushing. Brushing his hair from his forehead, you smiled, sickly like syrup. A chaste kiss to his lips, and he was calm again. 

He didn’t know what to do when you moved onto all fours, ass up, face down. Seungmin ogled you like he’d never seen you naked before, as if he wasn’t just buried in you. Coming in unrushed, he took hold of your ass, running his big hands over it softly.

“Go on then, pup. Be good and fuck.”

It was like a switch went off in his head. Permission, access granted, entry allowed, he’d never stuck his dick in someone so quick. He’d also never been so deep in headspace before, but it was a long time coming with you.

Seungmin had revealed his little kink a while back and agreed to take it slow. He was just glad that this was one more thing to make it out of his journals, and with someone who loved and respected every single bit of him without an ounce of judgment.

Testing his own self restraint he dipped the tip of his cock past your entrance, heat spreading throughout his body. Then he thought to himself, screw this. Literally. He plunged his entire length all at once, making your body clench like a screenshot at the welcomed invasion, followed by a pleasant sob. Sheathed completely, Seungmin hunched over your back and stood himself onto his feet, and his thinning rope of control snapped. Balls smacking against you and using the fatty flesh of your ass to pound you against him, he had no thoughts other than cum.

“Oh, you fuck like a dog. What happened to my sweet puppy?” If it were anyone else, Seungmin might’ve laughed at the words. But your usual honey voice was cracking, pushing broken with how hard and fast he hammered into you. You didn’t even mind, too in love with this side of him that you didn’t bother him to finish you off a third time. Taking it upon yourself, you reached between your legs and rubbed circles into your clit.

He couldn’t even speak back, too lost in his own head as rigid breaths filled his silence. That was fine, he knew you didn’t need a direct answer now. All he could muster was, “not a dog.”

“No?” You chuckled a feigning innocent laugh, “my sweet puppy wouldn’t try to breed me like this.”

Seungmin practically growled, pummeling harder and deeper while also trying to make himself last as long as possible. He just couldn’t get enough, feeling like he’d die on the spot if he pulled out. But the mere mention of breeding you, how could one’s mind spin if they didn’t even have one?

“Only big dogs breed, baby. Are you one of the big dogs now? With a cock like that, why wouldn’t you wanna mount me? C’mon, pup. Breed me, if you can.”

It was a challenge designed for him to win. Tight convulsions of your hot, wet pussy practically wrote him his death certificate. Seungmin let his arms wrap around your torso, chest coming into contact with your back as he finished with a last few shallow pumps, riding the high immersed in your heat. Minutes of your lives were spent in this position, feeling as though he was coming for ages. You didn’t mind, though, and Seungmin didn’t either as he rubbed his forehead into your back.

He pulled out with a whine, soreness or reluctancy or probably both, kneeling behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see him in a dazed state and his eyes blinking slowly, looking like he was going to tip over. Without thinking, you sat up to steady him, helping him lay gently into the bed. Seungmin blinked a silent thank you, eyes full of adoration and awe. Hopelessly devoted, you stroked his cheeks softly, planting tender, bewitched kisses to his lips, cheeks, everywhere and showering him in love.

Pulling up the soiled panties from around your ankle to catch the spilling cum, you hurriedly slung the shirt back over your breasts and made a break for the bathroom for some wipes and maybe scar cream. Finding them and running back to his room, Seungmin was on the brink of sleep. There was a strange noise as you teetered through the hallway, something of a thump, but you were sure it was nothing.

“No sleeping yet, baby.” With an exhausted groan, Seungmin let you maneuver him and around him, starting with wiping down his lower region delicately. He winced when you swiped away the fluids from his flaccid cock, but let out a sigh of relief when you were done. He was even harder to handle to get onto his side so you could clean his scraped back and dab the cream wherever need be. You’d done a real number on him this time, his skin scratched so raw that any slight mistaken movement might hurt. But it’s what he likes, you’re just there to bandage him up afterwards.

So you lightly clean his wounds, not hearing a lick of complaint from the cold of the towelette. A proud smirk painted your face as you gazed over your artwork, but an almost beast of a snore snapped you from your trance, giggling to yourself over your versatile boyfriend. He had fallen asleep. And that was okay, too, you expected as much after all was said and done.

The only things left to do were to wipe yourself down, change out of these filthy underwear, grab a new one of Seungmin’s shirts, and climb into bed with him. After all that, you’d found your phone hidden beneath the pillows, seeing his glowing on his side table.

Checking yours first, there were just a few unanswered messages.

felix (skz) >> please check seungmins phone

felix (skz) >> like now

felix (skz) >> im begging

You panicked for a second. What was so urgent that Felix needed to message you in the middle of the night?

Reaching over your sleeping boyfriend, you took his phone off the charger and looked at his notifications.

Missed calls, missed texts, missed face times, all in the upper eighties of notifications. To read a few;

menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up

menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up

menace minho hyung >> shut the fuck up or i’ll piss in ur cereal

lix >> pls let me sleep i'll do anything

lix >> is someone crying?? do i need to call an ambulance??

lix >> im so scared mom pick me up

jeonginnie >> there’s a reason i chose the room furthest from you

jeonginnie >> now there’s two grown men in my bed

jeonginnie >> one of them has 119 speed dial

jeonginnie >> the other is holding a carton of milk with your name labeled on it

jeonginnie >> shut the fuck up

lix >> WHY IS Y/N COVERED IN BRUISES WHAT DID YOU DO

Both mortified and hysterical– mostly mortified– you replied back to Felix.

<< im…so…sorry… it's safe to go back to your room now…

felix (skz) >> its not safe until seungmin is moved into ur place

You couldn’t help but laugh harder, trying hard not to wake your boyfriend. But he stirred either way, arm instantly finding its way to drape over your torso and tug you closer to his body. “Why’re you laughing?” He squinted one eye open.

“We have some noise complaints and maybe an eye witness,” you giggled into his chest, tossing the phones aside and snuggling closer into him.

Seungmin closed his eyes again, getting comfortable in your embrace once more, “fucking losers.”

-

A/N: *taps mic* is this thing on... damn site has been acting up so much lately I reeeeeeally hope this post pulls thru :(( also if I'm missing anyone on my tag list please comment on my separate post for it pinned to my profile! reminder please have age indicators and a non-bot looking profile just any reblogs or interactions will suffice. AAAAAAND stay tuned for part 4 ;)

TAGS: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules

[melisnonstop]

You’re allowed

—☕️

Henry sipped at the tea with a theatrical grimace, and Alex couldn’t help but grin. For a guy who had survived brutal royal schedules, state dinners, and relentless public scrutiny, Henry was shockingly bad at being sick.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” Henry muttered, his voice hoarse. “One minute, I was fine. The next—” He waved a weak hand in the air, letting it flop dramatically against the couch. “This.”

Alex sat back on his heels, looking down at Henry with something caught between amusement and sympathy. He gently tugged the mug from Henry’s hands and placed it on the table before pulling the blanket tighter around him.

“The flu doesn't usually come with a warning, sweetheart.” Alex said with a laugh, brushing a stray curl from Henry’s forehead. “But don't worry, Your Majesty, I'll nurse you back to life in no time."

Henry let out a soft laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a cough that wracked his body, leaving him shivering under the blanket. Alex’s heart clenched, and he shot Henry a worried glance over his shoulder.

“Just take it easy, Hen” he said softly, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and walking back over to the couch. He handed it to Henry, who took it gratefully, his fingers trembling slightly as he unscrewed the cap.

The thing was, Henry wasn’t fragile. He was strong in ways most people couldn’t even begin to understand. But Alex knew the weight Henry carried, the constant pressure of royal life, the way he held himself together for the world. And maybe that’s why seeing him like this—oft and unguarded in a way only Alex got to witness—hit Alex so deeply. It made something tighten in his chest, this sudden awareness of just how much he loved the man lying in front of him.

Henry eventually set the water down and rested his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes again. Alex reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension there, the fatigue settling into his bones.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad? I would’ve come home earlier.”

Henry opened his eyes slowly, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Alex’s heart squeezed. “Baby, you’re literally the opposite of a bother. You could’ve called me, and I would’ve been here in a heartbeat.”

"Your mock trial is less than a week away and I know your team is counting on you. I didn’t want to interrupt your plans for the sake of a sniffle.”

Alex scoffed, shaking his head. “A sniffle? Hen, you’re burning up. You’ve been running yourself ragged between the shelter and all flying back and forth. You’re allowed to say no, to be tired. You deserve to be taken care of. You're allowed all of it, Hen.”

Henry blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity in Alex’s voice. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at Alex with those deep blue eyes that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“I know,” Henry said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "I miss you. I miss being home,"

Alex softened, leaning in and brushing a gentle kiss against Henry’s temple. “I miss you too,” he whispered. “I'm so proud of all the work you're doing, but I need you to put yourself first. You're my whole world, baby.”

Henry closed his eyes again, but this time there was a warmth in his expression, something softer. He leaned into Alex’s touch, his head resting against Alex’s shoulder, the weight of it feeling so natural, so right.

For a while, they stayed like that—Henry nestled into Alex’s side, breathing slow and steady, Alex’s arm wrapped around him, holding him close. The TV played some random show in the background, but neither of them was paying attention. The world outside could wait. Right now, it was just them.

After a few minutes, Henry stirred, his voice soft and drowsy. “You know, in the movies, the prince usually rescues someone. Not the other way around.”

Alex smirked, pressing another kiss to the top of Henry’s head. “Well, this isn’t a movie. And besides, I've stormed castles for you, baby. I'll fight the devil and God for you.”

"I adore you." Henry smiled against Alex’s chest, his body finally relaxing fully, the fever pulling him deeper into sleep. Alex watched him, his heart full, a quiet sense of peace settling over him.

Alex leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Henry’s forehead, feeling the faint pulse of warmth beneath his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. “Not ever.”

Henry stirred slightly in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. Alex smiled, his heart full as he stood and quietly retrieved a few more blankets from the linen closet. He draped them gently over Henry’s sleeping form, making sure he was warm, comfortable, protected.

—☕️

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Six

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4511

Warnings: 18+ Blog; mentions of food and drinks, unwanted touching, self doubt, pining, two dumb dumbs navigating fEeLiNgS, reader has a nickname but has zero descriptive features, fluff, like always please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

A/N: This chapter!! I think it’s just been a week for me, dealing with minimal sleep and a teething babe— I was near giving up on it. But, it’s done! Wrote out a good portion of it and then hated it so I rewrote it and then ending up going in a completely different direction— but I like where it ended up going. Thanks again for all the love and kind words on this series!! Only 4 more chapters to go!! Adding: Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for beta’ing this labor of love and all her support and help as I write this!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

An endless loop of vivid thoughts frequent your weary mind— starting early in the morning and well into the evening. 

Dieter, his stupid handsome face and the way he has you falling for him, your brain in a constant flustered state. 

You keep mulling over the possibilities of allowing yourself to be vulnerable, open to the idea of something growing between you and Dieter. 

Each alternative has its advantages and risks. 

Leaning into your feelings and granting Dieter access to the thing you’ve spent years guarding, trusting that he will stand alongside you as you fully open your heart to a chance at a future together. 

But what if he doesn’t want the same things as you?? You contemplate if settling for just his friendship is enough, never pursuing the growing connection between you, accepting him in your life but always at an arm's length. 

Dieter’s impending departure has you a mess, your growing feelings for him only making it worse. 

“Are you still there sweetheart?” 

“Yeah— Sorry Mom, I’m still here.” You assured her, finishing up the rest of your makeup as you get yourself ready for the Capri Hotel’s big event. 

“You sound so far away. What’s bothering you?” 

“Ugh. I don’t even know where to begin Mom. None of it’s really all that bad, just a lot at once I guess.”

“Well, I’m here to listen if you need to get it off your chest.” 

Moments like these, you wished she lived closer, missing your kitchen conversations at the end of a long day. No matter how depleted she was after work, she made dinner with a smile and sat for as long as you needed her to, her shoulders always carrying the weight of your heart when needed. 

“Just trying to keep it together most days. School has been busy, end of year things have me drained. Then there’s the whole gallery thing, it has me stressed I won’t be ready for the showing. I’ve finally managed to get a chunk of my pieces painted and prepped— I have like 5 more to do. And I’m sad it’s closing, I only have a few classes left there.” You pause for a moment, you hadn’t intended on an emotional dump when you called your Mom, just wanted to check in and say hello. “It’s all good things though, so I don’t even know why it feels overwhelming, I guess I feel like I’m going to let someone down somewhere along the way.”

“Hmm. Well, I know how hard you are on yourself, but I also know how hard you work— especially when it involves all the things you love. You’re going to get through it all! I believe in you.”

Her voice feels like a warm embrace as it drifts through your phone, the stress already feeling like it has lifted a bit with her reassurance. 

“So, how are things with your guy? Any new things on that front?”

“Well, he’s not my guy.” Chuckling at her abruptness. “I feel like we’re in a good place now— he feels like a close friend that I’ve known my whole life. And the more time we spend together, the more I—“

“The more you what?”

“I don’t even know, Mom. Like there’s these things he does, I don’t know if he’s just being nice or what, but he does these little things that make me so happy. He brings me coffee in the mornings when he drops his niece off at school, leaves little notes for me on the cups— I save them Mom, I have a stack of these coffee cups in my kitchen.”

You hear a muffled hum, her signal that she’s already preparing her response to what you have to share, but allowing you to continue. 

“He came to one of my classes, and you know what he did? He painted a portrait of me— who does that?! And now, we text each other all the time and I can’t stop smiling when his name pops up on my phone, because I can’t stop thinking of him. Then he gave me this cute nickname that makes my insides turn to goo any time he says it and I— I…”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah— I do.”

*

The air is dry, heat waves dancing across the scorching cement, an array of popular songs blaring from the DJ booth situated on the green lawn adjacent to the hotel’s pool deck. 

The re-grand opening celebration of The Capri in full effect. 

The hotel had been drawing in plenty of guests after the renovation, rooms booked out regularly, a quintessential tourist destination for the small town. Its mid-century design of wood, natural tones and pops of color paired with the sleek modern aesthetic throughout the hotel’s property was beginning to be recognized by many publications, all looking to showcase the hotel’s unique style in upcoming pieces. 

The hotel’s name, big white block letter signage, sits atop the covered entryway. A parked yellow Chevy Deluxe adds to the ambiance of the building’s timeless look. 

Giant palm trees and tropical-esque plants in terracotta pots decorate the grounds of the hotel. Small gardens with intimate seating had been strategically placed for optimal usage. A large lawn space in the back was draped in string lighting and had the perfect view of daily sunsets. The pool itself was a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxing, vintage woven lawn chairs and oversized umbrellas lined each side of the large pool surrounded by lush greenery. 

Dieter was able to snag a chair early on, perks of knowing the hotel owner, the umbrella shade blocking enough of the sun to make the extremely warm weather bearable. 

He’s trying his best to enjoy himself, knowing he’s doing Diem a favor keeping an eye on Wren while she’s running around doing her hotel-party hostess duties, but the growing crowd of guests and invitees feel more overwhelming, reminding him of the elaborate Hollywood parties he’s attended. 

Only a few people have stopped to ask for autographs or pictures, slightly surprised there’s still a fan base that has an interest in him these days. 

“How come they don’t want me to sign their papers? I know how to write my name too!” Wren, her voice tinged with a pouty tone, says from where she’s lounging on her chair next to him. 

“I don’t know, Birdie. Next time, you can sign your name too, seems only fair.”

“Okay. I can draw a heart for them too.”

Wren, satisfied with the compromise, goes back to sipping on her iced lemonade and watching one of her shows on her iPad, zero interest in what's going on around her. 

“How’s she doing?” Diem asks as she sits on the edge of the Wren’s chair, placing another lemonade on the small accent table between the two of them. 

“She’s good, wanted to take a break from swimming for a bit. You, umm— hear from Poppy yet?” 

“Why? You finally going to tell her you’ve got it bad for her??” 

Grateful his sunglasses are dark enough to block the eye roll intended for Diem, he glances over to see Wren still absorbed into her show then back to Diem and whispering a low -fuck off- accompanied with a playful middle finger. 

“She texted me a bit ago, said she was running late, but would be here soon— Oh! Speak of the devil, look who just arrived. I’m going to go say hi and I’ll send her over so you can tell her how much you’ve missed her.” Diem’s menacing voice earns her another middle finger from Dieter, leaving him to greet you properly. 

Dieter catches sight of you weaving through the pack of bodies meandering around the pool, taking in how your face lights up the minute you see Diem welcoming you with a hug, both of you embracing each other as if you hadn'tnd just hung out days prior. 

He’s seen you in your casual clothes outside of school before. Usually a pair of favorite jeans and t-shirt, a sundress sprinkled in on warmer days, but something about seeing you in a bathing suit and shorts has his brain short-circuiting almost instantly. 

Tilting his head forward, his pointer finger pulling his sunglasses slowly down the bridge of his nose. He’s completely taken aback, mesmerized by you, noting every little detail—  your captivating features that make him absolutely weak, every delicate curve so perfectly placed, each flaw you try so hard to hide merely a perfect addition to your allurement. 

The second you and Diem turn in his direction, he’s shaken out of his trance, trying to focus on anything to make his blatant staring seem less obvious. 

“I see an open chair next to Dieter, do you think he’ll mind if I hang out with them?” You point to the open space next Dieter, who is helping Wren navigate something on her iPad. 

Unfortunately, as you say it, you notice a beautiful woman sitting in the lounger you were inquiring about. You try your best to keep the tinge of jealousy concealed, the last thing you want is to draw any sort of attention to your feelings for Dieter at this time. 

“Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to set my stuff.” There’s a subtle hint of sadness in your eyes, avoiding watching the women openly flirt with him. 

“Babe, you good?” Diem sensing the shift in your demeanor instantly. Peering back at Dieter to see the interaction he’s having with the woman, who now has her hand on his arm, caressing it as she tilts her head and openly ogles him— her fake laugh is a dead give away that she only sees Dieter for his Star Status and nothing more. 

“Yeah— y-yeah, I’m good.” Forcing a somewhat convincing smile. 

“Hey, I’ve got to go check on catering, make sure everything is running on time and then I’m going to grab Wren for her nap— the last thing I need is a 6 year old meltdown. Don’t worry about her, she doesn’t really seem like his type anyways. We’ll catch up in a bit.” Giving you another hug, letting it linger for a minute, then Diem takes off in the direction of the catering truck. 

You’re left standing there, feeling exposed and alone among a sea of strangers. Nervously scanning anywhere but in the direction of where Dieter and the woman are clearly flirting. You contemplate what an appropriate amount of time to spend here would be, before slipping out unnoticed. 

It reminds of you showing up to a middle school dance, dressed in the new fancy dress you picked out for the special occasion in hopes of seeing the cute boy, who’s name you spent most of the school year scribbling in your notebooks. Only to walk into the dimly lit and poorly decorated gymnasium to see he is with the head cheerleader and they’re both making heart eyes at each in the middle of the dance floor. 

Part of you wants to shrink into the shadows of the crowd, ruminate over the signals you read completely wrong this whole time. Dieter was just being nice, friendly— at no fault of his. You blame yourself for thinking he might have some interest in you, reading into the little details and thinking that you were even his type— clearly far from it. 

An up tempo song blasts through the speakers, amping the tone of the party up and pulling you out of your brief moment of sulking. 

Friends. Just friends. Dieter and you are friends and that has to be enough for you. 

You head in the direction of the open bar, hoping an ice cold beverage will help unburden your angsty thoughts. 

“We should hang out sometime!” Dieter cringes at the advances this random woman keeps making towards him. 

If this wasn’t his sisters hotel, he’d probably wouldn’t feel bad in being harsh and telling this woman to fuck right off. But he doesn’t want to cause a scene, not knowing how she would react to his rejection. 

“Umm, I don’t know— I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Let her down easy. 

“Oh come on! You’re not doing anything, you just got out of rehab— and they’ve got you trapped in this boring town too. I’m sure we could find something fun to do together. I know a few parties are happening in WeHo coming up, I can make a few calls— get some treats to liven things up.” Her hand still fondling his arm. 

He winces at her crass comment, a reminder of why he chose to escape the acrimonious world of Hollywood. 

He doesn’t have a single regret about being here in Ojai either, he enjoys its simplicity and is starting to feel like he could see himself here long term. 

“Look, I’m sure you're nice and all— but I’m not interested.” 

“Okay, well we can do something else then. How about we go back to my room, I’m staying here.” Wiggling her hotel key between her fingers. 

She’s clearly not grasping at the obvious hint Dieter is giving her. 

“No, I’m not interested in your room or you.” He says politely, grabbing her hand and removing it from his arm. 

“What do you mean?!”

“He has a girlfriend, lady!” Wren piped up in Dieter’s defense. 

“Wait! You have a kid? And a girlfriend?”

“No— to both things.” 

“God, rehab made you so fucking boring.” She scoffed, offended by his sobriety and his lack of interest in her. 

“Okay, so what we’re not going to do is that, my niece is right here. You can go now.” 

She didn’t hesitate at his request, grabbing her things and walking away— pretending to be unbothered by the rejection. 

“Sorry about that Birdie. Some people are just—“

“Weird!”

“Yeah, weird. Hey, Birdie?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you think Poppy is— she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends. So, let’s maybe not call her that anymore okay?” Although, he likes the way the two words mix together in the same sentence. 

He worries it’s going to slip in your presence, he knows wren means no harm by it, but he would hate for you to feel uncomfortable if you ever were to hear her say it. 

“Mhmm.” Her non-committal response earns her a laugh, fully focused on her show like nothing ever happened. 

Dieter takes in the lively atmosphere around him. Laughter emanating from the party guests gathered in small groups around the pool, a carefree crowd dancing throughout the lawn area, smiles plastered on everyone’s faces— he couldn’t be more proud of Diem and all she has accomplished. 

Readjusting the collar of his colorful half buttoned shirt, Dieter settles back into the chair, letting the sun kiss every bit of his exposed skin. 

“How are things going over here?” Diem quietly asked, pulling Dieter from his ruminative thoughts. 

Diem scoots Wren’s listless legs over to allow room for her to sit down, leaning over she grabs the device from her tiny sleepy hands, Wren’s little head nodding as she struggles to keep her drowsy eyes open. 

“No complaints, looks like you had a good turnout. I’m really proud of you Diem, not just all of this,” His hand pointing around to her accomplishments on display in the form of a successfully running hotel and her well executed re-grand opening festivities. “But with Wren too. I’m glad that I got this chance to be with you both.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me—“ Her voice wobbly and soft as she beams at his acknowledgment of her dedication to her work and Wren. “Thank you. And I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your help.”

Dieter nods, mirroring her heartfelt gratitude. 

“Have you seen Poppy? I saw you both talking earlier.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, wanting to know your whereabouts, if you’re okay and why you’re not here— with him. 

“She didn’t make it over?” His brows draw together, shaking his head slightly. Her nose wrinkled at the realization of why you hadn’t come over. 

“What?” 

“She saw you and your— little friend earlier, I don’t know for sure, but she seemed somewhat saddened by it. I’m surprised she didn’t come over though.” 

“Shit! I gotta go. You good with her.” He stands abruptly, an unnerving feeling creeping up from his chest, hoping you didn’t mistake what you saw for anything but an awkward fan interaction. 

“Yeah, go. I’m going to go put her down in my office.” Scooping up Wren’s sleeping frame. “Dieter?” 

He turns back to her calling his name, hands flexing at his side, a nervous tick of his, as he waits for what Diem has to add. 

“You should tell her.” 

He’s not sure why it’s so difficult to find someone in a somewhat enclosed area. His eyes scanning every ecstatic face as he sidesteps through conversations anchored in effervescent exuberance, a stark contrast from his growing collection of spiraling thoughts. 

If he could just find you, explain the situation to you in its entirety. 

Explain how he truly feels. 

How you'rer his first thought when he wakes in the morning, the giddy anticipation of seeing how beholden you are as he hands you the coffee he picks up from the bakery Wren and him stop at before school, how he takes in the way you tilt your head just enough to read the ridiculous notes he scribbles on the sides of each cup, “Have a Brewtiful Day!” “Better latte than never.”—each one extracting the most intoxicating laugh. 

How he looks forward to seeing your face light up at his stupid jokes, never once admitting how horrible you think they are. 

How you’re an added reason for him to want to be sober, never wanting to be on the receiving end of your disappointment in him. He wants that rewarding experience of seeing how proud you are of him. 

And how he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms— morning, noon and night, keeping you as close as he possibly can, terrified that you’ll disappear the moment he lets you go. 

His world seems to come to a standstill, everything he had been working up the courage to tell you, drained from his mind instantly. 

Utterly shattered by the sight of you. 

That smile of yours, paired with a full body laugh, directed at the man standing next to you. Your hand holding the top of his oversized bulging bicep as his large hand gently cups your elbow, leaning into each other as you both exchange words. 

A reality he hadn’t even considered in the time he spent looking for you— you being happy with someone who isn’t him. 

Crushed. 

Confused. 

Broken. 

It’s a dizzying sensation. A chance lost— or so he thinks. 

Rubbing his hands against his shorts, removing the evidence of his anxious response to seeing you wrapped up in what looked like an intimate conversation, his head still in a fogged state of shock. 

He manages to will his body to move from where he’s been standing. His jaw ticks anxiously, surrounded by bodies dancing around his blurry peripherals. Releasing a deep sigh, he looks back to you once more, looking for what he hopes is closure. 

Instead, he catches the moment the man you’d been friendly with, gesturing a goodbye as he retreats from the space he’d been sharing with you. 

Dieter watches the way your expression morphs from bright and bubbly to soft and muted the minute you're alone, leaning against the cocktail table with your face tucked into your shoulder, closing yourself off from everything and everyone. 

“Mind if I join you?” Dieter calmly approaches you, still holding on to the single thread of hope that he didn’t lose his chance. 

“Hey! Of course you can.” Your face instantly lights up at the sight of him, patting the open spot on the table, genuinely welcoming him to be with you. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

“What do you mean?” A line appears between your brows, shifting your body to fully face him with one arm still draped over the table top, your fingers casually drawing shapes onto the silky thin table cloth. 

“The guy, I saw you talking to him— looks like he works out, a lot— the man is very hot.” Words fumbling out of his mouth, as he points back in the direction he thinks he saw the muscular guy head in. “I just mean, I don’t want to interrupt if there’s something potentially happening there.”

Your lips pressed together in an attempt to fight off the urge to laugh. 

“What?”

“There was nothing happening there, like at all. That was Dan, he’s a good friend and he comes to classes at the gallery. I’d offer to introduce you two, since you think he’s so hot, but he just got back from his honeymoon— with his equally hot husband. We were just catching up.” 

Dieter winces at your explanation of who the man was, feeling like an idiot for so foolishly assuming you were falling for the guy. 

“Besides, he’s not really my type.” You state boldly with your head cocked to the side, one eye squinting to block the sun rays as you take stock of the way the sunlight tangles in his hair. 

“Where’s your friend from earlier? She was really pretty. You both really seem to be hitting it off earlier.” Keeping your tone neutral, looking down at where your fingers are now pulling at a loose thread on the tablecloth, preparing yourself for how his response is definitely going to wreck you. 

His hand settles next to yours, his fingers nervously tapping onto the hard surface. 

“Actually, I have no clue who she was— didn’t even ask for her name, didn’t want to know it either. Sure, she was pretty and maybe in different circumstances I might have been interested in her… She was pissed though when I turned her down, I actually had to tell her to leave.”

“Really— Why?” Your attention drawn back up to where he’s still studying you, his brown eyes locked with yours, now etched in a glistening golden light from the setting sun. 

He lifted his shoulders in a gentle shrug, taking a deep breath as he looked at you, “She just isn’t who I’m interested in.” 

When you think back to when you were growing up, constantly daydreaming about what it would feel like the moment you realized you were in love, and if it would feel as good to have that same feeling reciprocated back to you, by someone who wholeheartedly felt the same way. 

You decide that this is that moment, and it’s even better than you imagined it would be. 

Dieter’s eyes drift over to the table, his hand slowly inching closer to yours, the light brush of his fingers over the top of your hand is electric, your breath catching as he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

His thumb, tender as it slowly smooths over the ridges of your hand, glancing back to you to make sure that there’s no sign of discomfort in your face— you squeeze your fingers, a silent ‘I’m more than okay with this’. 

A breeze picks up, his hair tousling around as it blows through where you both are standing. You lift your free hand to swipe the hanging curls out of his face, your fingers taking liberty to rake through his downy hair, each curl bouncing back into place. 

“What’s your type then?” It’s menacing the way his husky voice cuts through the steady silence, encouraging you to share with him. 

“Hmm…Tall, funny, sweet, driven, pretty— like really fucking pretty. Also has to answer to Uncle Dude in the presence of a sweet little 6 year old. Know of anyone who might fit that description?”

He nods along as you list off each quality, his eyes lighting up at mentioning good-looking. 

“That’s quite the list.” He quips, your breathy laugh prompting a lopsided grin from him. “So— pretty, huh?”

“Yeah— really fucking pretty.” Your words are drawn out in a sincere manner, noting the way his eyes crinkle a little at the compliment. 

Dieter’s hand nestles at the base of your neck, drawing your body closer to him. His touch potent and satisfying, as he commits to memory the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips, gliding them down your bare spine leaving goosebumps in their wake— his gaze never leaving yours. 

“You’re interested in someone?” The answer seems obvious, but you want to hear it from him. 

“Poppy, you gotta know it’s you—“ He utters earnestly with both of his hands now cupping your cheeks, watching the way your lips part as he leans in closer. “I lo— like you so fucking much Poppy, you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

The way he started to say that he loves you, it feels like you might float away, anchoring your hands on his wrists. Everything tingles in your stomach, he’s so close, his breath fanning over your lips. Your lashes flutter as he slowly angles your face, his nose brushing against yours. 

It’s a whirlwind of energy drifting between both of you, building intensity with each passing second, the finality of the moment bound to be explosive. 

Tiny hairs of his mustache grazing the underside of your nose. The top of his lip begins to settle over yours, it’s pillowy weight slowly meeting your—

*RING RING RING*

“Fuck!” The word vibrates across your upper lip at the vexing sound of Dieter’s phone ringing, offensively interrupting the flow of your almost kiss and urging him to answer it. 

“I swear, if that’s Diem—“ A picture of Diem and Wren lights up the phone screen, his thumb swiping across to accept the call, he stands to his full height as he presses the device to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?… Okay… Yeah…Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute then… Love you too, bye.” Dieter ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket. 

The entire phone conversation, his focus remains on you. His free hand never leaves the side of your face, thumb stoking across the warmed apple of your cheek—Your hand still holding on to him, the cadence of his heart-rate is rapid against your palm. 

“Diem?” 

“Yeah, she said Wren wanted to go home. She has to stay for another hour or two, make sure things close out here before she can head home.” He explains, zero annoyance detected in his face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m perfect.” You say  softly, an airy smile spreading across your face. “What do we do now?”

Dieter takes in your question, so many answers floating around in his mind, but none of them feel sufficient enough at this moment, wanting to properly share everything he’s been feeling without being rushed or interrupted. 

He leans back into your space, his lips pressing a chaste kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours. 

“We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Next

[fullmoonandstar]

Nine Days in Hell

Chapter 2: The Lure

Raphael x afab!Tav Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: R Word count: 1.4 k Cw: second-person perspective, sex acts mentioned (including hand on throat) Summary: Haarlep's frequent use of your form leaves you pent-up and frustrated, but Raphael offers a solution AN: you're welcome Part 1

You sat up straight, and your head whipped around to see bare chested Raphael in his human guise, a towel wrapped around his hips, closing the curtain behind him. A curse may have left your lips. 

You hated how charming his smile was. Even though you knew what he was, a part of you had a strange fascination with him. Today, however, his smile had a hint of annoyance to it, as if he didn't like being stood up. The devil was not happy that you had let him wait. Good.

"What do you want?" you asked coolly. "Actually, I don't care. Go bother someone else."

"My, my, aren't you ever the feisty little mouse," he purred. 

Raphael walked to the basin, turning his back to you and setting the towel aside before grabbing the ladle. 

"I'm just here to spend a refreshing evening at the bathhouse with an old friend," he said, meeting your gaze over his shoulder. You tried to look away, but the curves of his behind and broad back drew your eyes anyway. He dumped water on his shoulder, letting it run down his back, and your eyes followed. Even in his human form, his skin had a red tint to it that seemed unnatural. Raphael ached his back leisurely and a moan escaped his lips. You thanked the gods for the fact that he didn’t see your face when you heard his voice make such a scandalous noise, and prayed he had no way of knowing how pent-up you were. If anyone were to touch you in the right places, you would come undone in a heartbeat. After his lewd display, Raphael placed the ladle back in the basin and turned around. You averted your eyes. 

"Come now, pet, what's the matter with the false modesty?" he mocked.

The water rippled as he joined you in the pool and sat down next to you. It was true that you had indulged Haarlep at the House of Hope, but you only remembered fragments, glimpses of ridged red skin, wings and horns and unparalleled ecstasy. Seeing them in their glamour and seeing Raphael were two different things. 

"I just don’t care for unsolicited dick."

He laughed. 

"What do you want, Raphael?" you asked again, getting annoyed with his antics real fast, and looked at him, making a point of only looking at his face. He did not return then favour.

 His brown eyes racked over your body, and you felt exposed under his gaze and fighting the urge to cross your arms over your chest. You had seldom experienced feelings of inadequacy, but in upon your return to the city and your constant state of arousal, you had noticed the way others looked at you. The ladies of the city were all slander arms and legs, unblemished skin and graceful movements. You had been a soldier, a paladin, for the better part of the last decade and none of those applied to you. Your life had left scars on your body and face, your arms and legs were built to swing swords, hold shields and jump over charms. You had strength, but certainly not grace. And it all didn’t matter because Raphael was not here for any of that, he wanted something from you. 

"I already told you, soaking with good company." 

He smiled and said: "What better way to spend an evening than in the company of my most esteemed client. I always liked you, you know." 

"I stole the hammer from under you, and almost beat you to death."

"Yes, I remember. Why did you spare me?" 

His smile was pleasant, but the question was pointed. 

"Cut the bullshit." you snarled. "I know you're up to something. You always are. So, say your piece or fuck off. "

His eyes glittered with some emotion that you could not quite place. 

"Straight to the point as always," he said. 

"Fine, I'm here to make a deal."

You rolled your eyes. 

"I didn’t make a deal with you when the world almost ended, what makes you think I will now?"

"Because you won’t be able to say no." The smile on his handsome face got a cruel edge to it. 

"You should count yourself lucky I didn’t kill you when I had the chance, and I’m beginning to regret it," you snapped. 

"Get out of here. Leave." you waved in the direction of the door and added: "And tell that brazen Incubus of yours to stop using my form. What are they even doing?! Are they in a challenge to fuck all the nine hells!?"

A dangerous sparkle ignited in his eyes. You had said something that played into his cards. 

"That’s what incubi do, sweets. They are such greedy creatures, taking everything they can get their hands on, but don’t worry, there is a solution to your … situation." 

"If you think I’ll sell my soul in exchange for the incubus to stop, you are wrong."

"I would never ask such a thing," he exclaimed in fake exasperation, but then he leaned in so close you could smell his obnoxious perfume and purred: "But maybe we can come to an understanding."

You knew this was a manipulation, but If there was any way to end this, you should at least hear him. You were so tired, so emotionally drained, so desperate with a thirst you didn’t know how to quench, that you swallowed his bait, hook and all. 

"What do you suggest?"

"Give me a month." His voice quivered with excitement, and in his eyes burnt a dark fire.

"A month of what?"

"Of You."

That did not clear up your question. What did he want from you?

"A month of me?" 

A month could be ages in the hells, and your gut told you that there was more to this than he had said so far. He was so close, and you failed to will your body into not reacting. A drop of water ran down from his hair along the side of his face, guiding your eyes to his delicate neck, broad shoulders and firm, round chest. You balled your hands into fists to keep them from creeping up to feel the hard muscles burn under your palms. All of this was a ruse, even his handsome face was a trap. He already knew that you had a weak spot for him, and you wouldn’t let yourself be exploited like this. 

"No," you said finally. An amused smile bloomed on his face, as if this was a joke you had shared before.

"You drive a hard bargain, as always, but maybe I can convince you yet. It would be sad to see you suffer so deliciously without any purpose." 

He leaned back, giving you a bit more space, and you took a deep breath to calm the stirring in your stomach. Raphael waved his hand and a bunch of paper pieces appeared in it. 

"Maybe you need a bit of inspiration, as to what this month could entail. "

He held the papers out for you. The top most page was a sketch, and you needed a moment to decipher the lines, but then it was like a punch in the gut.

The sketch was a top view of a devil, presumably Raphael in his true form. He was on all fours, his wings were half open, as if to shield for the outside. He was on top of someone, but their face was obscured by his massive body, only the small hands that clutched helplessly at his back and their point of contact was visible. His powerful, thick thighs spread their legs open, and he was buried deep in the folds. You could almost feel the movement, the hard thrusts bringing you closer to a release. 

With shaking hands, you took the sketches from his grasp and looked at the next one. 

This one showed, in first-person perspective, Raphael’s head between the legs of a woman. His big, clawed hands held her legs open and his tongue was working her bead. His eyes burned into you with such intensity, it made you shiver. This would be the view you would have if he ever was to do that with you. 

In the next one, Raphael sat against a wall, his wings relaxed as he looked seeming into the face of the person on his lap. Only the woman's back was visible as she sat on his lap like on a throne, his hands almost encircling her hips completely and supporting her movement.

The last sketch made you yelp. 

The woman was lying on her front and Raphael was on top of her, entering from behind, pressing her body into the mattress. Her face was contorted in a mask of pain and pleasure, with his hand securely around her neck. Around your neck. 

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[brekkie-e]

Listen, I get that a lot of people's dislike of white-haired Lavellan's comes from over exposure, which is valid and happens to the best of us. But most of the time, when I see posts about folks not liking them, the frustration centers around them being this unearthly ethereal white-haired barbie doll. And I'm sure that is also common.

But as someone who loves my dinky white haired Lavellan, and also feels like she's one of my most human characters, I want to ramble about all the ways she is not just a beautiful barbie doll power fantasy. Because my nerd is pretty. She IS. But she also has the puffiest under eyes you ever saw. Depending on the day, there may be dark circles. There isn't a cream on the market that can make this lady look properly rested. When you combine that with the near constant sunburn on her nose turning it red, she has the air of someone that is in a permanent state of allergy season.

Going from the top down, she also has a tooth gap. And while we are here, they are pretty darn crooked. Thedas doesn't have orthodontists. I wouldn't say she has horrible teeth. But she has perfectly human imperfect teeth that make for a memorable smile for all the wrong (right) reasons.

Her left ear is missing a big chunk out of it from being hit by an arrow. It gives her the same lightly ragged look of a stray cat.

She has moles. The one on her chin grows a long and shockingly white hair out of it. She pulls it out. If it's because she's insecure about it or because picking at it is a nervous tick, she doesn't even know at this point because she's done it for so many years.

The hair on her arms is very fine and white. It is also very, very fuzzy. The kind of peach fuzz that catches the light and makes itself known. It didn't bother her when she lived with her clan because she has a lot of siblings, and they all have it. But someone casually remarks on it during her time with the Inquisition, maybe in jest saying her arms look more like a dwarf's than an elf's. Suddenly, she wears sleeves a lot more often.

I am pretty attached to the bean pole frame Lavellan gets in Inquisition because it's hard to headcanon out for me when it's constantly there on screen. That being said, her legs have some hefty cellulite going on in the back of those thighs. Her flat little ass is dimpled. There are stretch marks on the insides of her thighs, and on her butt. She thinks that's unfair given her complete and utter lack of curves. Knees? Knobby. Her shins always have bruises on them from bumping into something or another.

Various other things I think about and am fond of for her. Her sword hand is calloused. It's often dry and cracked, with hang nails like a construction worker. She tries to take care of it, but how do you out self-care the kind of wear and tear constant travel and fighting does to a person.

Her eyebrows are so pale and thin that it doesn't even look like she has them half the time. Her scalp can get sunburns where her hair parts. She gets a pimple in the same spot like clockwork every time her period comes around. She has one toe that's just inexplicably uglier than the rest.

And she's still pretty. She's still little miss doomed by the narrative.

Secretly, I didn't really have a point to this post beyond wanting to talk about my character's endearing imperfections. But I'll try to wrap this up with something coherent. You can use the stereotypical "pretty" color palette and still create a deeply human character. You can also use a unique color palette and still end up with a design or attitude that gives off "this character's sweat smells like roses and peonys."

I'm not saying that white-haired Lavellan's don't come with the baggage of over-exposure or the weight of heavy handed white savior energy. I'm not saying they can't be done badly. I am just sad thinking there are other folks out there that see all the "stereotypical Lavellan" posts, and also feel a knee-jerk impulse to redesign a beloved oc to be more like-able. At the end of the day, oc's are for their creator. Nobody is going to like your oc more than you. So make one that speaks to you.

And hey. Maybe you are guilty of making your oc's perfect pretty Barbie dolls. Nothing wrong with a pretty lady (or man but that's not really the point of the post.) But speaking for myself, I fall a little in love with every oc someone gives a perfectly normal "defect" to. So next time you find yourself making a hot girl... mix it up a bit and consider giving her toe hair. You might be surprised by how much that detail sticks with you.