#and there are some feelings some grievings some sadnesses that can only be felt

[calaisreno]

Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices. 

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock. 

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for. 

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women. 

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much. 

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford. 

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight. 

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve. 

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain. 

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it. 

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that. 

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years. 

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice. 

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him. 

That’s a problem she could solve. 

#mayprompts2024 #POV Molly Hooper #sixth sense

[wordsarefakeokay]

How do you say what can't be spoken

How do you describe the indescribable

What words are there when quiet prevails

How do we return what has been broken

Some moments are louder in silence

Moments where speechlessness abounds

It's like a car crash you can't look away from

The screeching of metal you cannot hear behind your own mirror glass

But it's a living memory you know will never leave

You're carrying something profound, this will forever roam

A looming memory that could never be defined by words in any dictionary

It's a heavyweight no combination of any language could describe

So I'll wait with you in the silence

Watch the wreck with you until everyone goes home

And then when you're ready to leave too

We can hold hands on our way home

#this is for the grief that roams #the grief that lingers #a grief so loud you taste it even as you clop away from the scene of the crime #this poem is about a sadness so deep depression is only one word for it #its about a feeling so rich your entire existence feels poor #this poem is for everyone who has ever been trapped in bed and couldnt get themselves up for the day #ill sit with you and spend the day by your side my friend #and when youre ready to face the world ill be right by your side #my hand in yours #its okay to feel this way #and there are some feelings some grievings some sadnesses that can only be felt #and by feeling them do we get past it #i see you i feel you i get it #you are okay #words #writing #spilled ink #poem #poetry #queer writers #love #poets corner #depression #sadness #grief #loneliness #major depression #can't get out of bed #mental illness #original poem

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #braindead ship #brain dead #deadtired ship #tim x danny #soulmate au #soulmate marks #I feel like I really cooked something here #two super smart total dumbasses #in my head then then fall in love and try to pretend that they’ve known this whole time lmao #Tim looks at college level physics questions on his arms as a kid and is like ‘must be a pop quiz’ and then solves them #danny just thinks it looks neat at first but then his haunted arm replies back with actual answers and explanations??? #your honor these two meet in person realize that they are literally soulmates admit no fault and carry on like they’ve always been in love #tim is naturally paranoid and Danny is naturally curious so tim always answers and Danny always asks

[bellawoso]

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

Read part 1 : here

Much to your Diego’s dismay, you did not end up calling Alexia, instead the jersey, adorned with a number that could change your life, was left screwed up at the back of your wardrobe.

You were going to call Alexia.

Until one of your other friends heard about it, and told you about the backlash and hate you would receive from some of Alexia’s devoted fans. In the end, you decided it wasn’t worth it, it was only a few years since you escaped your depressive cycle, you were not ever going to risk entering it again.

Truthfully, you regret ignoring Alexia, every time anyone hits on you, you always compare them to the blonde, Diego often calling you “pathetic” as you only spoke to her for 2 hours.

However, you realised that it’s too late to call her, and think of how weird the blonde would think you were if you called her a month later.

As once again you debated calling the midfielder, your door suddenly slammed open.

“¡Hola chica! Look I have tickets!”

As you inspected the tickets in Diego’s hand, your face contorted to one of disappointment;

England vs Spain tickets.

Fuck.

———————————————————————

Your England top had arrived just in time, you were going to wear a Spain one after Diego convinced you that you would be beaten up by the first Spaniard who saw you, you guess the England-Spain rivalry ran deep.

However, it felt a betrayal to your country to be clad in the red jersey, so you ordered one last minute, luckily you weren’t completely oblivious when it came to football, you knew of how Leah Williamson had captained England to a Euro’s victory.

So there you were, in blue denim shorts and your oversized Williamson Jersey almost reaching past your shorts.

It felt like you were cheating, which was stupid, you met Alexia for 2 hours, to push away the feeling of guilt you slipped on a jacket and made your way downstairs.

Diego only rolled his eyes, and sighed in disapproval at your jersey choice.

———————————————————————

Alexia was excited for her return which she had been informed of a month prior to the match, but everyone on the team had noticed a change in the captains mood.

Except only Jana knew the cause for her sudden sadness.

Alexia didn’t understand why your rejection stung so much, maybe it was because the two-time ballon d’or winner wasn’t used to it, or maybe it was because the whole two hours you were together, she had imagined a relationship with you. It felt too real, and she cursed herself for grieving something that never happened in the first place.

She pushed all of those thoughts to the side, and instead focused on the match ahead of her, it was only a friendly, but the idea of being able to hold the win over Lucy and Keira’s heads when they returned to Barcelona felt euphoric.

What she didn’t expect was to see you in the crowd, worse of all, in a Leah fucking Williamson jersey.

———————————————————————-

Spain were one nil down at half time. which was frustrating for Alexia, having to watch from the sidelines with promises of being brought on for the final 45 minutes, however as she stepped on the pitch, her attention was drawn to a white jersey, in a sea of red, only a few rows up.

You stuck out like a sore thumb, it was extremely hard to miss you. So when Alexia laid eyes on you, her heart stopped for a second, and the screams and cheers of the stadium became muffled sounds in her ears.

As you turn around to face Diego, Alexia can just make out the England captain’s last name on your back, bile rises to the Spaniard’s mouth and she quickly turns away.

A newfound determination to outdo the English Captain, to try prove to you that the only jersey you should be proud to wear should be hers.

Call it jealousy. Maybe. But whatever it was fuelled Alexia to score 2 more goals by the end of the match.

2-1 to Spain.

When you saw Alexia step out on the pitch, your breath immediately hitched in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit, which received a knowing chuckle from Diego.

“You fumbled amiga”

Honestly, you regretted teaching him some English slang, he used it against you constantly, and often laughed at himself after seeing you scowling.

When the match ended, Diego was quick to drag you to the stands, he was a big fan of Aitana Bonmati, and wanted her signature badly.

Although you were happy for him when the brunette midfielder came over to where you two were, you froze at seeing Alexia’s friend from the match, who was walking over with Aitana.

When Jana laid eyes on you, she knew what she had to do, she was quick to sprint off and get Alexia, who was talking to Lucy and Keira, and teasing them of the loss.

Alexia was no where near as nervous as you were, the blonde didn’t need to be, you rejected her, even though she was positive that you were returning her flirty comments at the past match.

The Spaniard was sure that you were in the wrong, you should feel guilty for leading her on, so she was quick to confront you when she saw you.

“You didn’t call, and I’m pretty sure I told you to wear better clothing colours”

You internally cringed at how straight to the point the blonde was, and couldn’t help but blush as she called you out for ignoring her.

“I’m sorry, I was nervous and by the time I felt ready to call, I figured it would be too late”

“I don’t know if I’m more upset about you didn’t call because you were nervous, or the fact that you have Leah Williamson’s name on your back”

“Get me a better one then” you replied, whilst looking down at her jersey and back at her with a grin.

Alexia quickly stripped off her jersey, as you took off yours too, luckily you wore a tank top under it, Alexia’s eyes quickly dropping to your exposed chest.

“Your not subtle you know?”

“Who said I was trying to be?” The blonde was quick to reply back.

You only chuckled in response, and slipped on Alexia’s jersey, doing a little spin “How do I look?”

“Beautiful, much better wearing the jersey you belong in”

You weren’t sure if Alexia truly meant that, or if her extremely forward words were due to English not being her first language, but either way your face flushed deep crimson in retaliation to her comment.

The click of a pen lid being taken off woke you from your trance, and you peered up at Alexia, who tugged you closer by your waist, and quickly scribbled down her number once again.

“Pot favor, call me this time, promise?”

“I promise Ale, I will even let you choose the colour scheme of my outfit when we go out” you quipped back with a smile.

With a smirk, the blonde midfielder threw the England jersey on the floor, and walked away to meet Jana so they could walk into the locker room together.

Diego quickly ran towards you, only to pick you up and swing you around.

“I told you she would want you amiga! Your a snack!”

“Diego please never call me that again”

“Shut up! You should be thanking me, with out me, she would have never re-given you her number”

———————————————————————

#Spotify #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #aitana bonmati #jana fernandez x reader #jana fernandez #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #england women #england lionesses #spain women's national team #spain wnt #england wnt

[hopepetal]

Read on AO3

Reblogs do more than likes!

--

They had been running for some time now, chasing after Gem and Scott ever since proclaiming themselves allies. Chasing, without end, prey that was an expert at evading. It was frustrating, and not to mention exhausting.

Pearl took a moment to gasp for air, her footsteps stumbling to a halt. It took Scar a moment to notice, but when he did he stopped as well, turning to look back at her. “You good, Pearl?” he asked, tilting his head slightly in question. 

“Yeah,” she got out, “doin’ lovely, mate. Don’t worry about me, just need a second.” She bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she gasped. Her lungs and legs burned from the strain, and despite his calm demeanor she knew Scar was feeling the same.

It took Pearl a moment to realize that her hair was cascading down around her, falling into her face despite the fact that she had tied her hair back earlier. With a groan, she realized her ponytail had come loose, the ribbon she had used still tangled in her hair. “Hold on,” she got out, straightening back up, “I have to tie my hair back up. Can’t be fighting with my hair down.”

“Wait!” Scar set down his shield and bow before stepping forward. “I have a better idea.” Before Pearl could protest, he gently took the tangled ribbon from her hair. 

Pearl frowned. “What are you planning, Scar?”

“Sit down, Pearl.” Scar lowered himself to the ground and sat with his legs folded beneath him. “I’ll braid your hair.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, laughing. She still clutched her bow in her hand, looking around nervously– they were almost a full death game in, and she still was on edge. As if she was planning on winning. “You know we don’t have that kind of time, Scar. Gem and Scott are still out there, and who knows what they’re planning?”

Scar shook his head, patting the ground in front of him. “Sit down. We need this rest, you know. Can’t fight too well if we’re exhausted.”

Pearl sighed, reluctantly setting down her bow as she sat. She kept her shield in her hand, laying it across her lap and fidgeting with the handle. “Alright.” She felt Scar pull her hair back, gently beginning to comb his fingers through her tangled locks. “Y’know, the final fight would go a lot easier if you killed me.”

Scar shook his head, still continuing to carefully brush through Pearl’s hair. “You know why I won’t do that, Pearl. I don’t like all those ‘heroic sacrifices’.”

Pearl laughed, continuing to fidget with her shield. Something about her laughter sounded a little bitter, nostalgic for something that had never happened. “Yeah, I can’t imagine why.”

Scar began dividing her hair up into sections, humming softly as he began to braid. “You have nice hair,” he commented, “very shiny. And soft.”

“You think so?” Pearl asked, free hand drifting up to play with one of her free locks. “Honestly, it just gets in the way during these games. I’m thinking of cutting it.”

Scar gasped, though the smile remained on his face. “Oh, I can only imagine… this game hasn’t even given us hairbrushes, the nerve!” After a moment of silence, he continued. “If you cut your hair, I won’t have any to braid, you know. How’s a man supposed to keep his hands busy like that?”

Pearl laughed, finally seeming to relax slightly as she set her shield to the side. “Grow out your own hair, you goof.” There was a sadness in her voice that Scar couldn’t physically understand– he’d never had long hair, so why did she sound like she was grieving something that never happened? And something so small at that.

For Pearl, the reason why was simple. How could she not grieve the parts of her friends that they’d forgotten they’d ever had? A smile that was missing its mischievousness, a laugh that was missing its depth. A look that had no recognition, no shared secrets. Memories like missing puzzle pieces, lost somewhere unknown. That was what she saw every time blood stained the ground, every time family was pitted against one another like soldiers at war.  

Scar continued to braid Pearl’s hair, humming a cheery tune that Pearl knew he couldn’t recall learning. Deft hands paused, lightly holding the strands of hair, before Scar pulled away to grab something. Pearl heard him pick up his sword then hesitate, considering something. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me stabbing you in the back?” he asked, to which Pearl laughed. “What? It’s a serious question!”

Pearl turned slightly to look at Scar, giving him a smile. “If you were going to stab me, Scar, it would’ve been when I asked you to. Besides,” she added, turning back around, “even if you did stab me now, I wouldn’t be upset. You’d get ten extra hearts.”

“Eh,” Scar dismissed, far too nonchalant for a discussion of death, “I don’t need ten extra hearts.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see that. “You might not think the same when we’re fighting against Gem and Scott, mate.”

Scar cut something with his sword before setting it back to the side, his hands taking Pearl’s hair in them again. “That’s a problem for future Scar. Present Scar doesn’t kill his only friend in the entire server.”

Pearl felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. She knew that feeling well– loneliness, grief. Loneliness was an old friend that had once been her only companion. She recognized that in Scar, in his voice and his eyes. She had seen it once before, in the second game. Not that he would remember it.

He might, soon. The voice that whispered to her was none other than her own, her deepest thoughts given words. He could win this. He could become like us. 

I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she shot back, unknowingly tensing up. It was a little silly, getting into an argument with herself, but Pearl had always been a rather silly person. Unconventional, even. At one point, she’d been called insane. Perhaps it was fitting.

And yet you want him to win. The voice made a good point– she made a good point. If she didn’t want Scar to win, she could easily just kill him now. She should kill him now if she so desperately wanted to spare him the fate of the victors. He’d put up a fight, and he was good with a sword. Pearl knew that much, knew that there would be a moment of surprise before his eyes narrowed and heart hardened and the battle began. She also knew that he wouldn’t win against her on the chance she did try her hardest, that she fought with all her might.

Scar knew this too, and perhaps that was why he teamed up with her in the first place. Maybe he had found kinship in their shared loneliness. Maybe he’d wanted protection. Maybe he needed a friend. It was unlikely, but maybe he’d felt drawn to her by a bond he couldn’t quite understand, one made by witnessing the violent and sudden end of a server he couldn’t remember. There were a thousand possible reasons as to why he’d chosen her, and perhaps she’d truly never left the tower after all, because the fact he had chosen her at all still slightly baffled her. 

Well. No matter. He chose her, and in the end they’d all die anyway. 

“You have gentle hands,” she commented. “Joel tried braiding my hair before. Nearly tugged my whole head off my neck, that man. It’s a wonder Lizzie’s put up with him this long.” No matter what memories they lost, it always seemed like Joel and Lizzie’s marriage remained an unchangeable fact. Maybe it had something to do with “‘til Death do us part’”, though Pearl wasn’t really sure. 

Maybe she’d try marrying someone when they got back to Hermitcraft, just to see if it carried over to the next death game. And wasn’t that a strange thought, the next death game? There would be another, Pearl knew, if Grian had anything to say about it. He was a little strange like that, but she’d come to expect those kinds of things from her brother. 

“Why thank you!” Scar was beaming, she could tell by his voice. “This just comes so naturally to me. Maybe I should’ve been a hairdresser instead of a trader.” 

Pearl laughed, remembering the intricate braids Scar would put his hair in during Last Life and their home server, Hermitcraft. Although he couldn’t remember them, he remembered how to do them. That was a small relief, at the very least. It was nice to know that her friends kept some parts of themselves, instead of being the blank slates she had originally thought when she first regained her memories. 

“Maybe,” she responded, starting to pick at the grass in front of her, plucking a small flower from the ground. “I’d go to you all the time if you were my hairdresser.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt as she continued. “Just as long as you promise not to do anything too crazy with my hair, alright?”

Scar giggled, his laughter another part of himself that he had kept even after the loss of his memories. “I can’t promise anything, sunflower! Who knows what might happen if you stop paying attention? I might turn you blonde if you aren’t careful.”

Pearl snorted, twirling a strand of grass around her finger idly. “And where do you suppose you’ll get the dye for that, mate? Or the means to make my hair lighter so it’s easier to dye? We’re not exactly exploding with resources here.”

“Hmm, true…” Scar hummed thoughtfully. “We’ve found ourselves in a bit of a pickle, Pearl!”

Pearl shook her head, rolling her eyes. “No, Scar, we aren’t. I didn’t want to go blonde in the first place, so there’s no need to get the materials we’d need for it. Just keep braiding my hair, you goof!”

“Aww, alright!” Scar laughed softly as he went back to braiding Pearl’s hair. “Almost done.” His voice took on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “How are you feeling? Injuries, exhaustion? General… mental state?” He gave a small chuckle on the last one. “I mean, other than the obvious. This game has been… a trip.”

Pearl groaned, stretching out her arms in front of her. “Tell me about it. I lost all of my Mounders.” Her shoulders slumped. “I really wanted them to win, Scar. I really did.”

“I know,” Scar murmured, “and I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that through. You did your best, Pearl.” He paused. “And what about you? I would’ve thought that after all your allies… got out… that you would want to take up the sword and win for them. But you haven’t really… been doing that. You even offered to let me kill you.”

Pearl held back a shudder, wanting to wrap her arms around herself to fight off the sudden cold that had settled over her. “I don’t want to win,” she mumbled, “Even if I did, I don’t think they’d be too happy if I tried.”

Scar made a confused noise. “What was that? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She took a breath. “I just don’t want to win. Don’t see the point in all this, really. Never have. What’s a victory when everyone else around you is dead?”

Scar hummed thoughtfully, thinking about it. “I suppose you’re right. But in the end, isn’t it better for it to be them than me?”

Pearl chuckled sadly. “Not when you have to live with the consequences.”

Scar paused for a moment, as if struck by a sudden revelation. “...I think I understand. Thanks for, uh, answering my questions.” He continued braiding for another moment. “Alright, I think we’re all done!”

Pearl stood with Scar, reaching back to gently touch her braid. There was a shallow pool of water nearby, and she walked over to check her reflection. “Really, Scar?” Woven into her braid was a sunflower, which must’ve been what Scar cut with his sword earlier. 

Scar laughed, joining her by the water. “Doesn’t it look pretty? I thought it was fitting. And!” he continued, over Pearl’s soft laughter, “it adds some brightness to the whole ensemble!” He gestured at Pearl’s outfit, the same she had worn in her past games.

Maybe she would change up her red look next game. If there was a next game. “It does, it does,” she agreed, stifling her laughter. “Thank you, Scar. I look very pretty now, and my hair is out of the way.”

Scar looked over at her, eyes wide. “You mean you won’t cut it? You promise?”

Pearl smiled, reaching out and putting a hand on Scar’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t cut my hair, Scar. Not after you put so much effort into braiding it. I wouldn’t do that to ya, mate. That’s just cruel.” 

Scar grinned. “I knew I could trust you!” With that, he turned away from the water and walked back to where he had left his sword and shield. 

Pearl spent another moment there, gazing out at the water. Did he really mean that? Did Scar truly trust her? If so, had it just been this small moment that made him let down his guard? No, surely not. Scar was intelligent and cunning, and rarely did he let his walls down for anyone. Something must’ve happened for him to feel this way towards her. Something she had done, or said, maybe.

And that was just if he was being truthful with his words– she knew Scar wasn’t one to ignore the benefits of weaving lies and charm into his speech. He was a masterful manipulator, she knew many underestimated him for the cheery, unassuming front he put up. But that was just another reason as to why he was dangerous.

“Pearl?” Scar’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked back at her ally. “You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Pearl jogged over, feeling much more energized than before. Picking up her bow and her shield, she did one last check to make sure everything she had was in order. Once she was certain, she turned to Scar with a smile. “Lets win this one, Scar.”

Scar grinned in return, red eyes shining. “Why, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” 

Lightning struck the ground as Gem took Scott’s sacrifice, and once again Pearl stopped Scar. “My offer still stands, you know. Kill me and take the hearts, you’ll stand a better chance against Gem if you do.”

Scar pretended to think about it. “I think I’ll stand a better chance against Gem if I have you on my team. So, no thank you! But thanks for the offer. Come on, we can’t let Gem get away!” 

The chase continued, feeling much more light-hearted than the ones at the end of Double Life had been. To be fair, she had gone a little insane in the last few days, but still. Maybe it was Scar’s jovial attitude about killing. Maybe it was the fact that she still had an ally this late into the game. Maybe it was something Pearl would never be able to put her finger on, no matter how hard she tried to think of a reason.

The two inevitably caught up with Gem, who had grown exhausted from the chase. Despite being enemies now, Pearl still felt guilty as she raised her sword to attack, Gem’s wide eyes and shouts of an unfair fight making her hesitate and pull back. It was two against one after all, and Pearl had no intentions of winning. Ganging up on Gem like that felt wrong, but maybe that was just her old bond to the other holding her back. Scar had no such qualms, swooping in when she pulled back to quickly cut Gem down. 

Pearl could hardly believe it had happened until lightning struck the ground, and silence rang between the two as Scar stood over Gem’s body. They’d discovered that bodies remained after the last death when Jimmy had died, but it was still a little disturbing to just see Gem laying there. Like she was asleep. 

It didn’t feel right. 

Pearl had to bite back a snort. Four death games in, and she was still disturbed by the sight of dead bodies. Honestly, it was a little pathetic. She’d killed, and been killed, and yet… somehow, it never got any easier. Somehow, it just got harder. The blood staining her hands had become so much that it was hard to hold onto her weapon, and her scars ached whenever she killed. 

Pearl brushed her braid back over her shoulder and lowered her bow, offering Scar a weak smile. “You did it, Scar. Good job.”

Scar laughed softly, not turning around to face her just yet. “It’s just us two left, then. The last ones alive.” “Mhm. What’s your plan now, Scar?” Pearl kept her voice casual, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. How are you going to do it?

How are you going to kill me?

Scar answered her question by turning and raising his bow. Pearl hardly had any time to blink before he shot her, the force of the arrow sending her stumbling back with a shout. Instinct took over then, and she ran as Scar continued to shoot at her. All thoughts of sacrifice fled her mind as she dodged the flying arrows that missed her just barely, reminding her just how good of a shot Scar was. 

“Going for it immediately, huh?” she shouted back as she ran, pulling her sword. Not that she intended to use it, not to kill. But she would put up a fight. If Scar wouldn’t let her sacrifice herself for him, then she would do the next best thing. She would fight him, and he would earn his victory. Not like the hollow sacrifice Scott made for her, where victory was force-fed to Pearl by his hands. No, she wouldn’t do that to Scar. She respected him too much to throw the fight. 

That didn’t mean she would try to win, not in the slightest. But she would do her best to not make it easy for him. His victory would be painful no matter what she did, but at the very least she could make sure it wasn’t a hollow one.

The next arrow hit her as she ran through the field of sunflowers they had been sitting in just earlier, when Scar had offered to braid her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago as she crashed into the ground, yelping in pain as she tried to scramble back up. “Really, Scar?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she ran, the pain shocking as adrenaline flowed through her veins. 

“This game!” Scar called, continuing the chase as he spoke. “There were more of them, weren’t there? And you won.”

Pearl stumbled, surprise catching her off guard mid-stride. She cursed and turned back, swinging her sword down and catching Scar in the side. He stumbled back, granting her more time to flee– but not enough. As she ran, Scar drew back the bowstring, aiming carefully. A running target was harder to hit, but Pearl was moving in a relatively straight path. All he had to do was aim a little ahead, steady, then release. 

It was over the moment the arrow flew, striking Pearl in the chest and pushing her over the edge of a cliff, sending her plummeting into the caves below. Lightning struck, and then all was silent. 

Scar stood, clutching his bow in a white-knuckle grip. “Pearl?” He took a step forward. The wind blew around him, rustling through his hair and shawl. Sunflowers bowed against the breeze, gesturing in the direction where she’d fallen. “Pearl?! Pearl, sunflower, where are you?” 

The breeze led him a few steps further in a stumbling haze, until he stood at the edge of the caves that he’d sent his friend? Enemy? falling into. He didn’t know what he expected– maybe to see Pearl gazing back up at him, a smile on her face and weapon drawn, hurt but alive– but as he looked down into the caves, he found only the body of his first and final ally.

A presence danced around him, heavier than the wind but acting just like it. She’s dead, Scar. You won. Five words whispered in his ear, as thin as the passing breeze. Five words that would’ve meant the world to Scar, once upon a time. Five words that now meant nothing to him as he gazed down at the body of his only friend.

Crouching, Scar swung his legs over the edge of the cave, slowly and carefully lowering himself down. He had to find footholds so that he wouldn’t fall and possibly lose his life as well– the fight with Pearl had left him with fewer hearts than he would’ve liked. “Hold on, Pearl,” he mumbled as he made his way down to where Pearl lay. “I’m coming to get you, I’m… I’m coming, don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

He dropped the last few feet, wincing as pain shot up his legs and sapped at his strength. Luckily, the drop wasn’t far enough to cause any actual injury, but it was closer than he would’ve liked. He stumbled to catch himself, pulling himself to a halt in front of Pearl’s body. 

It was hard to look at her like this. Pearl was someone who was so full of life, always. She was strong and fierce, fighting for what she wanted every day, every moment. She never gave up, not once in all the time that Scar knew her. It hadn’t been long, and it was hard to really get to know someone during a death game like this, but Scar had always been pretty good at reading people. 

He knelt by Pearl’s body, brushing her hair out of her face and gently closing her eyes. He didn’t delude himself with pretending she was asleep– what was the point of avoiding death now, when he had caused so much of it? His hands were stained red with blood that he would never be able to wash off. 

Scar lingered a moment longer before shrugging off his shawl and gently wrapping it around Pearl. He was careful with her body, handling her as gently as he could as he settled her back against the stone. There wasn’t as much blood as Scar thought there should’ve been, but he wiped the blood that was there off Pearl’s face as best he could. 

Then, his hands went to the braid. It had held up well, keeping the sunflower he had woven in secured in her hair. He hesitated for a moment before untying the ribbon that held it in place and beginning to undo the braid. 

He began to hum while he worked. Slowly, reverently. A song that came from a place he couldn’t quite remember, a home he once thought he’d never forget. In another world, he would know he was humming the last rites for a loved one, to send them off into the stars. In this world, all he knew of it was the deep, longing ache in his chest and the tears that it caused to spring to his eyes.

Carefully, Scar took the sunflower from Pearl’s hair, placing it down in his lap. He gently combed his fingers through her hair one last time, before tucking it into the shawl. Picking the sunflower back up, he leaned forward and gently kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sweet sunflower. And goodbye.”

He stood and once more began humming softly, climbing out of the ravine with the sunflower still in his hand. Scar took extra care to not crush the delicate flower as he pulled himself up onto solid ground. The sun was just beginning to set as he made his way toward the Secret Keeper, the intimidating statue that reigned over the entire server. The towering tyrant seemed to gaze down at Scar with eyes he knew he couldn’t see, taunting him with a victory that tasted at best bittersweet. 

It grew dark as Scar approached the buttons, but he held tight to the reminder of the sun’s light in his hand. It gave him the strength to push forward even as his legs threatened to give out from under him. He could not hide the trembling, however, that came from the rush of adrenaline and fear. 

He raised his eyes to meet the invisible ones looking down on him, a challenge held in his gaze, “You wanted me to be the villain?!” he called out, the weight of being watched settling on his shoulders. “Fine! Here I am!” He reached out and pressed the button to succeed. 

Welcome home.

And Scar… remembered. What sounded like thousands of voices overlapping filled his mind, causing him to stumble back with a yelp. He dropped the sunflower, clutching at his head as he was forced to his knees in front of the Secret Keeper.

Sacrifices offered and refused. Atonement rejected, forgiveness given. Arms outstretched, to offer a helping hand. Tears falling into blood-stained water as the two left locked eyes. “For all you have done to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.”

Bloodied sand, prickling cactus spines, heat waves and cool nights. Two impossible friends, against the world. Traitorous actions, painful fists, a killing blow. “Scar, whatever happens, I think we can count this as a double victory.” 

A loneliness that echoed in the silence around him, howling as the wind at night. Bonds broken off entirely, leaving him with only the stars for company. “Everything that happened last season is null and void. Doesn’t count, okay?”

A bitterness that came from once tasting too much sweetness, like slightly burnt cookies. A loneliness that ached worse than when he had been truly alone, for this ache was born of lies and deceit. “I made them, they’re for your secret soulmate.” 

A moment of joy, in the midst. A time of family, friendship, and security. Before the secrets, before the lies and the pain, before the fire and the red wars. “We’re the cockers!” 

Allies for the first time in what felt like forever. People who truly had his back, no matter what. A place where he could let his guard down and smile, laugh, and live. If only for a moment, he knew what it was like to be loved. He was protected, and he was protective. “You don't go against the family.”

You are seated in a field, surrounded by grass blades, ebbing and flowing through the gusts of your imagination. Each of those blades represent a past life. Memories. Desires. Dreams. And past loves… By plucking one you shall reveal–

“Home,” Scar gasped out, eyes snapping open. “I need to go home.”

You are home.

The presence became louder, more unbearable. Each voice clamored for attention, every new memory begging to be heard. The weight of the universe pushed him into the ground, making him gasp for air in a strained panic. 

It was too much. All the memories, all the emotions– it was too much. Scar yelled in pain as it just grew louder and louder, the pressure growing as the weight pushing him down increased. Just like a volcano, it felt as though he was going to erupt at any minute.

And then a cold wind brushed up against Scar’s skin, weaving and dancing around him. “Enough.” 

The voices instantly quieted, the pressure vanishing as Scar collapsed to the ground gasping for air. He tried blinking away the tears and black spots that cluttered his vision, making it difficult to see properly. 

What he could see, though, took his breath away.

Pearl stood in front of him as a shimmering silver spirit, facing the Secret Keeper with her wings flared out to their full span. She glowed as if she were made from moonlight and stardust, and Scar couldn’t help but stare at her in awe. 

“He belongs with us. You will leave him alone.” Her voice was thin and brittle– as if it might snap were someone able to reach out and grab it. There was an echo to it as well, ringing in Scar’s mind as she spoke.

The feeling of being watched vanished completely, and Pearl turned back to Scar. She smiled a silvery smile, and held out her hand to him. “C’mon, mate. Let's go home.”

Scar took her hand, gasping at the sudden coldness that flooded his body– Death. He stood up, trying not to look down at his body that lay where he had fallen just moments earlier. As he stepped forward to join his friend, he couldn’t help but glance back and notice the sunflower lying beside his body, just inches away from his open hand. Nothing he could do about it now. 

Scar turned back to face Pearl, noticing the three other spirits that had gathered. He remembered them all now. The winners of the previous games. His allies, his enemies, his friends. His eyes caught Grian’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well hello there,” he greeted his old ally with a grin, letting go of Pearl’s hand to bow dramatically. “Guess we finally cashed in on that double victory, huh?”

Grian laughed, rolling his eyes. His expression warmed as he took a step forward, reaching out to take Scar’s hand in his. “Little late, but I’ll accept it. How are you, Scar?”

“Well, he’s very dead, so I can’t imagine he’s doing great,” Scott interjected, ignoring the glare the two avians gave him. “What? I’m not wrong.” 

Scar shook his head. “That you are! I’m actually doing much better now that I remember everyone’s going to come back. Makes me feel a lot less guilty about killing all those people!” 

Pearl sighed, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “Y’know, I felt the same way after I won Double Life. And now the games are so much easier for me! It’s nice to get all the murderous urges out now that I know everyone’s going to be fine eventually.”

“This is why everyone calls you two insane,” Martyn muttered, crossing his arms. “Now can we go back home now? I don’t like hanging out in these servers longer than I have to.”

Grian let go of Scar’s hand to pull up some sort of screen, typing commands into it. “Sure, just give me one second.” He continued typing on the screen, swiping through various options and closing others. “Good game, by the way,” he added, without looking up, “I don’t think anyone expected you to win.”

Scar gave a half shrug. “To be honest, G, I didn’t either! Totally thought Gem was going to get this one.”

Grian nodded. “But that’s just how these games go, mhm? Expect the unexpected. Pearl’s win should’ve taught us that much.” He spent another moment typing before closing the screen. “…Alright, we should be heading back to our respective servers soon enough.” He reached out to take Scar’s hand again, taking Pearl’s hand in his other. 

“Can’t believe we almost have all of the Boatem crew here,” Scar blurted out, “do you think Impulse will join us next time?”

Pearl laughed. “I hope so! I don’t think Mumbo will be winning any time soon, though. So we might just have to settle for four out of five.”

Scar nodded sagely. “You speak very wise words, Pearl. I fear Mumbo may be too… how do people say it? I fear he may be too much of a wet cat.”

Martyn groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

Laughter rose from the group as the code began its work, and they all began to fade away. Grian held tightly to Scar and Pearl’s hands, locking eyes with the both of them. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?”

Pearl giggled, squeezing Grian’s hand in return. “See you soon, Griba!”

“Goodbye!” Scar called to Martyn and Scott, their responding farewells faint as the server faded away around him. 

And then there was darkness. 

And then Scar woke up.

#my writing #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #secret life #secret life fanfic

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

SAGAU Imposter AU! But Reader Gets More and More Followers As They Saw How Sentient Teyvat Is To You

_________

Everything about you is different from any other being, it may not be seen at first glance but if they stare hard enough they can see how sentient Teyvat become whenever you're around it.

How the grass and flowers grows beneath your feet, each of the flowers that grown happily nears you, the sun becomes more gentle with it's everglowing ember surface, the tree shading you and the wind was singing dancing happily just from seeing you.

They knew and recognised you as their One and Only Creator's Beloved Descendants. Their Original Creator may have died a long time ago but their descendants never truly perished just like that because if they do, Teyvat would crumble in grieve and chaos.

The Imposter that claimed to be the Creator was sitting on the golden throne, with some favoured acolytes by their sides. You stood your ground because you knew you're never truly alone, Teyvat is with you. It can feel your emotions, your sadness can cause rain to poor non stop, your anger will make the skies darken and lighting strikes at anyone who dares defies you and your happiness can make the world all more brighter and much colourful than it is from before.

You went into hiding in Sumeru rainforest, that is where Teyvat can connect with you the more easily. The Aranaras surrounds your body, healing you desperately. The golden wounds on your body starts to close up, only leaving golden scars. You were woken up with a soft lullabies from the small forest creatures, "The Golden World has awaken!" it yells but not enough to make you quiver in fear. They are the creature of forest, you knew because of how close you felt to them.

"Hello little one." You smiled softly at it, holding it into your arms and petting it. "Have you found and saved me?' It nodded eagerly. As more Aranara approach you, it introduces itself "This Aranara name's is Arakunti." you giggled at how adorable it is "Hello Arakunti~"

________________

There were two Rishboland Tigers that you had decided to keep, One was named Lieu and the other was Daru.

They were so cute and Teyvat brought them to you since they knew how you liked felines, regardless if it's big or small. Since they were truly favored by you, they were blessed to ascend as a divine familiar companians for you.

You danced alongside of blue hydro fungis, there were a lot of creatures from the forest surrounding you. Surprisingly the Aranara didn't fight with the Fungis since how calm and happy they are to be with you too. Your hair was decorated with all kinds of flowers.

Nilou who was venturing in the wild for inspiration to gain the favour of her so called "Majesty" was stopped at the sight of you, you danced and sing.. So angelically.

She admires how the viparyas and sumeru roses was braided into your hair, you look just like how she would depict the Goddess of Flowers. The damp root of the rainforest tree broke under her weight, making her slip from her footing and fall out of hiding. This alerted the creatures of the forest, it immediately went into defensive mode and surrounds you protectively.

Nilou was both impressed and scared, Lieu and Daru glowered their eyes making the red haired girl quiver under their fierce hungry gaze.

"Nilou?" Your voice stuttered out..

How? How did an imposter like you, know her name when her own Creator couldn't? She sees how the soft gaze of concern filled your eyes, warmth filled her body. A feeling that feels like she was covered in a warm blanket, safely tucked in like a baby about to put to sleep. It clicked immediately in her working brain,

You are her Creator

Tears began pooling in her eyes, had it finally hit her. For how much you were hunted, tortured and almost killed. When you disappeared so suddenly, the people of Teyvat thought of how you were dead. They even cheered for your death...

"Your Majesty, it's you.." her voice broke, you hesitantly get closer to her. Hugging her being as she cries in the embrace, it hurted her so much at the fact that you were scarred. She cries in grievance and devastation, for how long has she worshipped a false copy of you when the real one was simply mistaken as it.

"Little one, why are you crying?" You voiced your genuine concerned curiousity.

________________________

Cyno, The General Mahamatra. Was at first suspicious of Nilou, why she seems distant and slowly stops trying to gain the favour of their Creator. He noticed the look she gave eventhough it was brief he still noticed it, it was pure anger and loathing. Even he was surprised at the fact that she was capable of such emotions.

Why would she have such gaze, even if he doesn't worship the Creator crazily like other acolytes but he still respect them atleast a bit. He met up with Tighnari, telling the fennec fox about Nilou. How he has a feeling she is doing something behind their back, Tighnari was thoughtful and listens to the general. They agreed to spy secretly on Nilou, recording her movement on where she was going.

Tighnari was surprised when he saw her going deeper into the rainforest, so deep that he was afraid that she might already get bitten off by any of the forest creatures. Cyno and Tighnari looked at eachother and nod, silently following the redheaded woman. Before they could even knew, Many Rishboland Tigers and large fungis surrounding them. They were cornered, at first thinking that it was best to fight them off but now it looks like it's impossible.

Cuts and bruises were everywhere on them, Nilou wasn't there but they were still concerned for the girl. "Your Majesty!" Nilou's voice was concerned but who is she calling your majesty? The animals finally stops attacking them, they were weak and tired.

That's when they finally saw you, stepping in front of the creatures. "Why have you come here?" Your eyes were cautious but it looked like you alraady knew them for a long time. "You. Aren't you the so called imposter?!" Cyno pointed out.

"Watch your mouth, Cyno! You should already know who is the real one already!" Nilou yelled at him, extending her arm in front of you. Eventhough she can't compete with the General Mahamatra, that doesn't mean she won't protect you until she dies.

'What—' he looks around, seeing how the creatures gather around you. none of them was mind controlled, Tighnari can also confirmed that. Their eyes widens at you,

Were they so blind? How long have they been fooled? Who is sitting on that throne, no they never saw Teyvat obey their commands at any point either. They saw how Teyvat goes Against what the one on the throne wanted it to be. Yet they chose to be blind.

This is how sentient Teyvat is to their Creator, Loyal and Unwavering Teyvat.

-Part 1-

(*End*)

#self aware genshin #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin sumeru #genshin impact nilou #genshin impact cyno #genshin impact tighnari

[sunrise-imagines]

Can I get some childhood friends to lovers hcs for Finn? Like the reader grew up with him and now they're dating as adults? Gender neutral or male reader also please :3

Of course!! I love this idea so much. Hope you enjoy!

TW: Light angst, lots of pining, hurt and comfort

Adult Finn x Reader Childhood Friends to Lovers

• Being the only two humans in Ooo, it was only a matter of time before you met each other at the ages of 12.

• Similarly to Finn, you had been found as a baby by a couple from the Candy Kingdom, and they raised you as their own with the help of Princess Bubblegum, her and Marceline becoming sort of older sister figures to you.

• One day, while visiting the castle, Ice King burst in from the wall in an another attempt to kidnap Princess Bubblegum, snow blowing everywhere as you looked up in fear.

• But then, out of nowhere, a boy with a bear hat and a magic dog burst in, beating the crap out of Ice King who fled back to his castle.

• When he turned to look at you, you both became shocked. Neither of you had any weird mutations or odd features, and he certainly wasn’t made of candy. He was human. You were the same.

• And from that day forward, you and Finn became inseparable friends, with you sometimes joining him and Jake on their many adventures.

• You watched as he grew up, fell in and out of love, found an entire island of other humans, met both his biological Mom and (deadbeat) Dad, lost his arm, and eventually prevented a war/world ending event. You sat with him as Fern lay dying, and went with him to plant the seed that would eventually sprout a new willow tree.

• Sometime after the end of Adventure Time, Finn and Huntress Wizard amicably broke up, deciding their relationship worked best as good friends/occasional work partners.

• Having developed a longtime crush on him, you had hoped that now was your chance, but your nervousness and not wanting to ruin your friendship got the better of you so you continued to admire him in secret.

• That was until Jake passed away, and Finn’s personality reverted back to when you were kids and the only thing that mattered was fighting monsters and adventuring.

• You grew concerned as he started to go on more and more dangerous missions, often times for no reason other than the thrill of it, and time after time he’d come back with even worse wounds. But you were always there to patch him up, no matter how bad it got.

• But today was different. After Simon had opened up to him and expressed his depression and how he felt out of place in this world now that he lost his magic, Finn had the bright idea that a life-threatening adventure was what he needed to cure his sadness.

• This of course went terrible for Simon, but Finn thought it was great, and when he came back afterwards with a giant slash on his back and told you about it, that was it.

• You went off on him, telling him that while you know he’s still grieving, almost getting himself killed all the time isn’t the answer. You were tired of seeing him get hurt, and in your righteous anger, you finally admitted that you were in love with him. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you softly admitted that you’d loved him since you were kids, and seeing him act like this after all of his past growth was hurting you.

• Finn’s eyes grew wide, he had no idea that you had felt that way about him. And even more, that you reciprocated the feelings he’d had since you were 18. But with everything going on, adventuring and eventually Jake’s death, he felt like he never had time to pursue a relationship you.

• So he pulls you into a hug, stroking your hair as you continue to cry into his shoulder. He apologizes for making you worry, saying that he didn’t know why he acted the way he did, he just needed a distraction from the pain of losing his brother. But in doing that, he had forgotten he still had you.

• He puts his hand on your chin, directing you to look at him. He smiles down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he confesses that he felt the exact same way.

• Your tears change from ones of sadness to joy, and you feel the urge to kiss him. Luckily he has the same idea, and gently pulls you towards his lips and kisses you sweetly.

• Eventually you both pull away, and in that moment, everything feels like it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

• After you officially start dating, he stops going out on adventures as much, instead opting to spend more time with you and Jake’s kids.

• Of course, adventuring is still a part of him, but he focuses more on helping people than fighting and killing things, and of course he brings you along for the ride. Finally, after so many years waiting, the two of you are together.

#adventure time x reader #adventure time #adventure time imagines #finn mertens x reader #finn the human x reader #fionna and cake x reader #adventure time fanfic #finn the human #fionna and cake fanfic #fionna and cake imagine #sfw #finn x reader #adventure time fluff #fionna and cake fluff #light angst

[drafthorsemath]

Brotherly Love

Synopsis: Crosshair can't sleep and Tech appears to him as a force ghost. Lots of comfort.

A/N: I need some kind of conclusion for my brain. Whether you accept the finale and that Tech is dead, I think I need to get this out of my system to grieve.

Word Count: 846

It was nearly pitchblack in the bedroom, save for a sliver of a moonbeam shining through the window. Pabu was quiet this time of night and usually Crosshair found comfort in that. Tonight though, he was struck by sadness. He thought of Tech and the nights they'd spend together as cadets. Crosshair's eyes would hurt from the bright lights on Kamino after long days of training. Tech would turn off the lights, get into bed with him, and read to him. Crosshair smiled as he thought about all the different things Tech read. History, science, even the occasional holonovel. He would always find comfort laying next to his brother and hearing his voice. He wished he could hear him again now.

Crosshair sat up in bed and sighed as he looked out the window. He could swear he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder; steady and comforting as it always was. He sniffled and leaned into the sensation, only to realize that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Tech?!" Crosshair jumped up and turned to see a kind of blue light around what he could have swore was his brother. "What the kriff?!"

"Yes," Tech replied, examining his glowing limbs with curiosity. "I could ask the same thing."

Crosshair reached out to try to touch him. He felt a presence and yet could see through him.

"Is it really you?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course it's really me," Tech replied with an eye roll.

"How are you doing this?" Crosshair asked.

"I am unsure," came the honest answer. "However, matter is never created nor destroyed. It simply changes form. For whatever reason, this is the form I am currently taking."

Crosshair sat back down and without warning, sharply inhaled and let out a sob. Tech put his hand back on his brother's shoulder.

"I've missed you," Crosshair said, trying to compose himself.

"I'm still here," Tech said. "I've always thought of you before I fell and I've been with you since. I cannot fully explain the latter part."

"This is the first time I've seen you like this, though," Crosshair noted.

Tech nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes. Crosshair somehow understood now. All those times he felt like Tech was with him and he tried to suppress the feeling for fear it wasn't true when in reality, his brother had never left him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Crosshair looked into his brother's familiar eyes and couldn't help but let a tear slip despite his best efforts. "I'm sorry I didn't leave the Empire sooner. I missed out on time with you. I should have done better."

Tech shook his head and pulled Crosshair into a hug.

"I am just glad you came home," Tech said. Both men felt relief. Relief that there were no hard feelings between them and that they cared for each other as they always had.

After awhile longer, Tech asked, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not here."

"I'll still be here, Crosshair. Even if you can't see me and I promise I'll do my best to show up so you can. There has to be some interesting science behind this and now I have an infinite amount of time to try to figure it out."

Crosshair chuckled. That was so like him. Then, even though Tech had changed form, Crosshair could sense his brother had a question as easily as if they'd both been there in the flesh.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked.

"Are you going to get a prosthetic for your hand?"

"I'm not sure yet. I still have my left hand and Echo's given me some tips on getting by."

"If you do get a prosthesis I would be happy to help you optimize its utility."

"Can you even hold a spanner?" Crosshair asked dryly.

"I'm sitting on your bed and just gave you a hug. If I can do that, I do not see why I cannot use tools to fix something."

"Fair point," Crosshair replied with a grin. "I'll let you know."

Without a word, Crosshair and Tech both laid down as they had done when they were cadets. Instead of reading, they talked about their brothers and Omega. How much time it took them to truly relax on Pabu after the intensity of all that had happened. How Omega was growing, having something of a childhood, and how her piloting skills were improving all the time. They were both filled with pride in her.

It took awhile, but Crosshair finally let himself sleep, still feeling his brother right next to him. When he woke up in the morning, he startled a bit. He couldn't see Tech anymore. His eyes searched his room, but Tech was no where to be found. Had it been a dream? Was his brain taunting him? Just as he wanted to curse these mind games, he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder again and took a deep breath. Tech was still there. Crosshair would never have to be alone again.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair #tech #force ghost tech #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #brotherly love

[tojisbbygworl]

Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn’t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

~

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader

[sourpatchys]

Title: Embrace

Rating: pg, nothing explicit

Word count: 893

A/n: I really just think Daryl deserved a solid hug during this scene so I had to write something. I may add to this and create a list of firsts! This would be first hug, then kiss, and perhaps some smut (I’ve been wanting to write for a first time with Daryl for a while) let me know what you think! <3

—

Back at the farm, when Sophia was discovered and life was in shambles— Daryl had separated himself.

You could guess why, he'd been on the hunt day in and day out from the moment it had all began.

He was— as most of you were— broken, inside and out. You'd seen his growth from the sidelines, his warmth towards Carol in her time of need, the light behind his eyes after finding that shack in the woods and the anger he displayed at the mention of that dirty little doll not being a beacon of hope.

And now it was all gone. The work he had put in was for not— the injuries he had sustained, the tears he had shed— all for nothing but a six foot hole in the ground and a broken heart.

You were willing to give him his space, ready to understand and let him be. That is, until you saw Carol, a woman who had already been through so much, leaving his newfound camp with tears in her eyes.

Part of yourself knew— you knew her tears weren't that of sadness, but rather an understanding of their combined grief. Daryl cared about Sophia, he cared about finding Sophia, and she knew how he was feeling.

That didn't stop you from moving on instinct, marching your way over to the archer as soon as Carol was out of sight and tucked away in the RV.

He heard you before he saw you, your heavy footsteps rushed and messy. He knew why you were there. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He was tired of caring.

As you reached him, his head swung forward to look at you. His eyes were cold and empty— but not dark. It's as if his body spoke one language and his eyes spoke another, begging you to save him, but letting you know if you tried, you wouldn't make it out alive.

"The fuck do you want?" His gruff voice rang, spewing hot venom with every syllable.

There was an invisible barrier between the two of you, one you dared not break— keeping your distance and planting yourself only a few feet away.

"So you like making people cry now? Distance yourself all you want, but don't take it out on anyone but yourself!" Your own words felt like molten lava in your throat as you lifted an accusatory finger in his direction, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

You rarely ever got angry. Hell— this was the first time you've so much as raised your voice since the end of the world. Not even so much as a shriek had fallen from your lips. You hated being loud, no matter the circumstance.

Maybe you were broken too.

Daryl stood, marching himself over to you, those few feet of space dissolving with every heated step, his hand coming up to mock your own as he shoved a finger in your face.

"What the fuck do you know about it?!" You could feel his spit hit your face as he spoke— "You commin' down here to piss me off too?! Why don't you jus' march your worthless ass back where you came from?!"

As much as you hated being loud— you weren't in a headspace to stop yourself.

"Oh, so you can yell at a grieving mother but I can't get mad at you for doing it?! What the fuck Daryl?!"

"It's none of yer fuckin' business what I do, now is it?!"

You just stood there for a moment— none of his words had gotten to you, and you were sure none of yours had gotten to him. This wasn't going anywhere. Why were you even here in the first place? What was the point?

Not daring to step back, you looked into Daryl's eyes again, that same cold look struck you. His eyes were moving frantically, his piercing gaze not knowing where to land as he took you in.

He knew it too. He knew this was pointless.

All he wanted was to be left alone— to bask in his failure and force himself to move on. He took on a role, he gave false hope— he wasn't enough.

The longer you stood there, staring at one another, the more clear it all came to you. You weren't a fighter, you kept to yourself, much like he did— for different reasons you were sure. But maybe— right now, his reasoning was similar.

He felt out of place— he felt useless.

The whispered words that came out of your mouth after what seemed like hours, rang deep into his core.

"It's not your fault, Daryl.”

Before he could argue, before he could even do much as blink, you found yourself leaning into him— wrapping your arms around his tight knit frame, pulling him close to you.

"It's not your fault, Daryl." You whispered again, squeezing your arms around his broad frame, sinking into his skin.

He was tense under your touch, your skin against his body felt like hot cigarette ashes. But he couldn't find it in himself to pull away. Entranced by the feel of genuine human touch.

Slowly, he reciprocated, his hands finding the small of your back, fingers twitching nervously— and if possible— he pulled you closer.

This makeshift embrace, full of anger and sorrows— was exactly what he needed.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl twd

[lesbianslovebts]

When I was 22 or 23, I realized that I might be autistic and started doing some research. I read books written by autistic people, scrolled through the actuallyautistic tag on tumblr regularly, and took a dozen online tests. Everything pointed to the fact that I am autistic. For a while, I felt comfortable with self-diagnosis, at least until it became clear that I needed accommodations at work. I finally pursued an official diagnosis at 26, and the process took almost an entire year. I received the paperwork on December 6, 2022. The emotion I expected to feel was relief.

Instead, it was grief.

I grieved for the time wasted not knowing. I grieved for the child who struggled with traumas that still plague my mind and body. I grieved over all the missed opportunities in my life, opportunities to get help, to become independent. I grieved for my present state of affairs, the extreme isolation of leaving the house only for therapy or shopping. I grieved for the rest of my life, which will never be without autism.

As much as I am proud to be autistic, I am angry and sad and scared. So, so scared.

Note: This is okay to reblog. I would like to hear the thoughts and stories of other autistic people in the comments or tags. Allistic people (including allistic ND people) can reblog, too, but please don't add on.

#autism #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #late diagnosis #llbtspost

[daycourtofficial]

Personal update below

Tw: pregnancy loss, miscarriage, blood

Here it is, the words I’ve been unable to type, much less say out loud. Late in the night a few nights ago, I woke up to some abdominal cramping and went to the bathroom. I had been bleeding vaginally all day, but not enough to be super concerned.

I woke up and went to the bathroom, and knew something was wrong. To spare the details, I was bleeding a lot, cramping severely, and I knew my baby was gone. I felt empty inside, despite only being about 7 or 8 weeks pregnant. Intuition, I suppose. I just felt so lonely, as if I wasn’t supposed to be the only occupant in my body.

My husband took me to the hospital and after hours of invasive poking, prodding, and testing, a nurse practitioner I will likely never see again, who will likely never think of me again, told me that my baby was gone. He was straight forward, which I like in medical personnel. He told me my pregnancy was unviable and that it’s common. That we shouldn’t worry. These things happen. It’s normal, common. The three or so minutes felt like an eternity, waiting for him to leave so I could fall apart in the privacy of my husband’s arms, despite the lack of privacy an emergency department offers.

The hospital was so sterile, the bright lights and lack of windows made it impossible for you to track the passage of time. The winding hallways a maze of monotony, making it impossible to know how to return to your room without a guide. The walls were devoid of any real color, save for tv screens and workplace posters. And yet, the room I was placed in was the only room with decorative curtains. All the other curtains were just a shade of navy.

Mine had flowers on it, as if the world or God or the hospital wanted to offer me some reprieve, some reminder that for the hospital, this was routine, but that it wasn’t routine for me. That I deserved something for my eyes to find comfort in.

So here it is, the new reality I find myself in. My baby is gone. The rare statement that, once it becomes true, will never change.

I’m reeling a bit from this loss, as you can imagine. I’m gutted. I got married right at the beginning of the year, falling pregnant not long after. I joked with my husband that I started the year off becoming a wife and was ending the year becoming a mom. I suppose it really was just a joke in the end, but I’m not sure if the punchline was me or my continued optimism, in spite all that I’ve endured.

Anyway, everyone was extraordinarily kind to me when I had posted that I was pregnant. I know that technically I don’t owe anyone details of my personal life, especially not this personal, but I wanted to share it because I don’t want to be sad and alone. And perhaps this will find its way to someone else who has felt some loss recently, whether it be the loss of someone or something, or a loss of self or identity, or a loss of the future you had planned out. Maybe they will feel some connection to this. Or maybe one day someone will think of this as they reel with their own loss.

I don’t regret sharing the news so early, despite the circumstances that have now led me to making this post. Any joy we can find is worth sharing, even if it’s fleeting, especially if it’s fleeting, and even if it’s for some stranger on the internet.

Anyway, I have my dogs and my husband, who are very loving. I’m not sure when I’ll post this, I’ll likely stick it in my queue somewhere so it feels less like I’m hitting the ‘post’ button and more like softly whispering all of this in the wind.

I will be okay, I always am. Grief is a black hole I am trying navigate and figure out where it ends and I begin, trying to remember what my new life will be like and how to grieve yet another version of myself lost to time and trauma and sadness.

There is no narrative device here, nothing I did could’ve changed the outcome. Sometimes the world is just needlessly cruel.

This doesn’t really affect anything on here or what I choose to interact with. I’m still okay discussing/reading/writing about babies and kids and everything in that realm. I just didn’t want anyone asking after the baby and making someone feel bad for wanting to know how I was doing.

Anyway, I don’t want to end this on a despairing note, even though that is the tune of my life at the moment. I want to remember that my now is not my forever, and I hope anyone reading this that is experiencing any manner of suffering takes as much out of that sentiment as I do.

Yours,

V ❤️

#personal note

[supernovafics]

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

summary: in which the vecna events hurt you a lot more than you would allow yourself to admit to anyone. you lost your best friend, someone who was quite possibly your only true friend, and you just felt empty inside because of it. you somehow find solace in steve harrington and an unspoken bond forms between you two. you and him barely talk, though; talking is probably the last thing you do with one another. but, maybe, you should.

warnings: post season four, mentions of eddie, mentions of stancy, reader grieving eddie’s death, soft!steve, some fluff, SO MUCH angst, explicit language, smut (minors dni!), overall a lot of sadness but with a happy/hopeful ending

author’s note: this idea randomly came to me and i immediately stopped everything else i was working on to run with this lmao hope y’all enjoy!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was because you almost died. 

That was what you kept telling yourself.

It was the life-and-death situations that you had found yourself in that past month that led you into Steve’s bed almost every night. And it was also the fact that he’d experienced those fucked up moments with you.

You and Steve weren’t friends. Even after what happened a little over a month ago, you rarely ever talked to each other during the normal hours that most people talked to one another. In fact, you found yourself actively avoiding him during the day. 

But, when night rolled around and you were feeling way too restless and insanely sad, you would call him and he would always answer because somehow he was always awake too. 

When you pulled into his driveway on this specific night, you didn’t hesitate to head to his front door and give it three quick knocks. He usually would leave the door unlocked for you after you told him you were on your way, but you still liked to knock. 

For some reason, the thought of letting yourself into his house made things feel a little too personal and intimate; even though you and him were doing perhaps the most intimate thing two people could do with one another. 

When Steve opened the door, he gave you a small smile. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” You responded softly before walking inside. 

You took notice of his attire which was typical, basketball shorts and a simple t-shirt, but his hair was much more disheveled than usual. It made you silently wonder if this time you actually had woken him up when you called. 

You peeled off your jacket and toed off your shoes, leaving them both by the front door. 

You followed him up to his room and quickly found comfort atop his bed as he closed and locked the door behind you both. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed and you looked up at the ceiling. 

“Were you actually asleep when I called this time?”

“Maybe a little bit.” 

You propped yourself up by your elbows and looked at him. “You can tell me to fuck off sometimes, you know that right?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, which let you know that he was at least a little bit nervous and there was also a lot going through his head right then. You wish you didn’t know that about him, but it was hard not to notice little things like that with all of the nights you’d been spending together. 

“I could never tell you to fuck off,” He ultimately responded. 

Why? 

That was what you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t let the word fall from your lips. Because you were scared about what emotional shit would be attached to his answer. You were scared that it just might finally break you open. 

Ever since everything went down you felt numb from it all and, for the most part, you were okay with that. You liked not feeling anything because it meant that you couldn’t truly grasp the pain and grief you were experiencing. 

By no means was it healthy, you knew that, but it still somehow made things a little better. 

However, there was still a part of you that longed for something, anything, that resembled the opposite of the emptiness you were feeling. 

And that was where Steve would come in. 

He’d give you something that would momentarily fill that void while simultaneously making you forget all of the shit going through your head. 

And you’d give him the same thing. Make him forget about the girl he was in love with who was perfectly happy with someone else. 

The two of you needed each other. You would never say it aloud, but it was the truth, and you couldn’t let a question of “why?” potentially ruin that right then. 

So, instead, you stood up and slipped off the sweatpants you were wearing and then pulled off the ratty old band t-shirt that had been Eddie’s. You hadn’t been wearing a bra under the shirt so you were standing in front of Steve in only your black underwear. His eyes slowly traveled up your body as he walked closer to you and a hand found your bare waist. 

When this all started weeks ago, it slightly surprised you how you never felt nervous or awkward under Steve’s gaze. Somehow you always felt comfortable, maybe even a little safe. 

You leaned into his soft touch and tilted your head up so that you could meet his lips. When your mouth met his, your mind effectively turned off and the next few moments felt like they were being lived by a different version of you. The version that was normal and not so painstakingly affected by grief and sadness. 

Steve guided you back onto the bed, his lips not detaching from yours once, so that your back was flush against the comforter. 

Soft words fell from his lips that you couldn’t decipher because you were so lost in your own pleasure. 

You felt him almost everywhere. Lips against your neck and trailing down your body, hands squeezing your breast and teasing you through your soaking underwear. 

“Please,” You found yourself muttering desperately as you bucked your hips upward a bit because you needed him so badly. 

Steve knew what you were essentially asking for and he wanted the same exact thing. So when he pulled away for a second to remove his t-shirt and basketball shorts and boxers, you slipped off your own underwear and let him make you simultaneously feel and forget everything. 

-

Three Weeks Earlier

“Hey.”

His presence startled you. So much so that you lost your balance a bit and almost fell into the lake. 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, you can’t sneak up on a girl like that.”

“Sorry about that,” He said and pushed a quick hand through his hair. “I don’t think there was any right way to get your attention.”

You tilted your head at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Also, how did you get here? I didn’t see your car parked.” 

You turned away from him. “I walked.” 

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

A small shrug was all you gave him in response as you kicked a small rock into the lake. 

You didn’t tell him that all of the walking you did made you so exhausted that the only thing you could think of when you finally stepped foot in your home was sleep and absolutely nothing else. 

You’d come to learn over the past few weeks that it was way too easy for your mind to spiral when you were alone in your bed if you didn’t force yourself to stay awake and do things until you were completely sleep deprived. 

“How’ve you been?” He asked as he walked over to stand next to you. 

You almost laughed at how ridiculous the question was because, in your mind, the answer seemed obvious. You’d been sad, angry, upset at the world, sometimes even upset at Eddie— and you’d always end up feeling like a horrible person when you did become upset at him.  

But you hadn’t seen Steve or anybody else involved since everything happened, so as ridiculous as the question was, it did make sense that he was asking it. 

“Not the best,” You ultimately answered. 

He waited a few moments to see if you would elaborate on what you meant, but you didn’t. 

“You’re kinda one of us now, so you can talk to us whenever. You can talk to me.”

You took a quick glance over at him and saw from the look on his face how much he meant his words. “That’s the thing though, I don’t wanna talk.”

“So, you just wanna wallow forever?” His tone wasn’t accusatory like you expected it to be. Instead, he was genuinely curious. 

“I just want to…” You let out a long sigh.  “Forget. Forget what happened, forget what we went through, forget that he’s gone. Everything.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to that for a few moments, and you fought the urge to look at him because you knew that he was either staring at you like you were crazy or pitying you. You couldn’t decide which look would be worse.  

“Let me drive you home,” He said softly. You realized then that he probably felt sorry for you and his eyes were more than likely saying the same.  

You kept your gaze trained on the lake in front of you. “I’m okay.”

“Please?”

You only nodded because you knew you couldn’t say no. He’d probably ask a bunch of questions about what was going on with you, and you were a terrible liar so you knew you’d actually have to be honest with him. And how were you going to be honest with him, if you couldn’t be honest with yourself just yet? 

You allowed yourself to get comfortable in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, leaning back into the seat and staring out at the dark road ahead of you both. If the circumstances had been different you could’ve maybe found yourself falling asleep in his car. But, it was too quiet and things felt awkward, so you couldn’t help but say the first thing that crossed your mind. 

“How are you and Nancy?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few long moments, but then he cleared his throat. “She’s, uh, she’s still with Jonathan.”

“Oh,” You said, and couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice. During everything, it seemed like the two of them were on some sort of course toward getting back together. “Sorry.” 

He shrugged halfheartedly. “It’s fine.”

Something about his demeanor told you that it actually wasn’t fine.  

Your eyes glanced at the time displayed on the dashboard. It was two in the morning but you weren’t tired enough. And you really didn’t wanna go back home just yet. 

“Um, can we go to yours actually?”

You fully expected him to question you and ask why you wanted to go to his place and not your own. But, he didn’t ask anything and instead gave you a small nod. “Okay.” 

His house was quiet and although you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d be staying, you slipped off the sneakers you were wearing and left them by the front door. 

“You want something to drink?” Steve asked. “I would also offer something to eat, but there’s nothing really here.” 

You shook your head. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“This way,” He said and then led you upstairs to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. 

When you flicked on the light and looked in the mirror, it was then that you noticed how bad you looked, and it actually made sense to you that Steve had wanted to take you home. Your face looked exhausted, but you didn’t feel tired at all.

The t-shirt you were wearing, which had been Eddie’s, was insanely wrinkled and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken it off, and the old dark sweatpants you were wearing had some random bleach spots on them. 

When you exited the bathroom, after splashing some water on your face to hopefully bring some life back to it, you noticed Steve lingering by his bedroom door. 

“You could’ve told me how insane I look right now,” You told him. 

“You look… fine,” He said hesitantly and you rolled your eyes as you sat on his bed. “I think you just look tired?”

You let out a small sigh and crossed your legs underneath you. “I’m quite literally the opposite.” 

He sat down next to you and things became quiet. 

“Why were you at the lake?” You decided to ask as you turned to look at him. 

“Couldn’t sleep, so I was just driving around,” He responded and you nodded at that as you looked down at your lap. 

You silently wondered if the aftermath of everything was hitting him as hard as it was hitting you. You almost asked him how he had been doing since it all happened, but the question couldn’t form on your lips. 

“I did mean what I said back there,” He abruptly said as he turned to you. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you met his gaze. “You can talk to me. I know we didn’t know each other before everything happened, and we still don’t know each other that well. But, still… I’m here. If you ever wanna not forget about everything, we can talk about it.”

You appreciated his words, you truly did. But, the thought of actually talking about everything made you feel physically ill.

Steve placed his hand atop yours and gave it a light reassuring squeeze. The action was so minor and could’ve easily been deemed as meaningless, but it did mean so much to you. For some reason that you couldn’t decipher or understand, he really did care about you. 

You shifted a bit closer to him and allowed your body to move faster than your thoughts could tell you that what you were doing was a bad idea. You moved into his lap, knees straddling either side of his waist. 

“Is this okay?” You asked, eyes meeting his.

He nodded slowly and you could see the minor confusion on his face but you chose to ignore it because if you didn’t you knew that you would start thinking too hard about what you were doing. 

So, instead, you kept your mind off and let your body run on autopilot. Your hands settled at the nape of his neck and you leaned down to kiss him. His hands were firmly planted at his sides, too scared that all of this somehow wasn’t real to touch you back, but he did kiss you with just as much passion as you were giving him. 

It finally felt good to actually feel something; something that didn’t cause you sadness. 

“Touch me, Steve. Please,” You said in-between heated kisses. 

He didn’t have to be told twice and his hands were on you in an instant, sneaking under your t-shirt and rubbing the soft skin of your hip, then waist, then back, then all the way up to your bra-covered breast. You moaned at the feeling of him squeezing you through the thin fabric. 

You pulled back for a second to pull off your shirt and toss it somewhere in the room, and Steve took the opportunity to flip the two of you so you were pressed against the bed and he was on top of you. Your hands found a home in his hair as the two of you resumed kissing with even more intensity that time around. When Steve’s lips found your neck, you involuntarily bucked your hips upward and rubbed yourself against his hardness, which elicited a soft groan from him. 

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Wait– Shit– Sorry.”

He rolled off of you and you turned on your side to look at him with confused eyes; he was staring up at the ceiling. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re sad right now,” Steve said, still avoiding your eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

He was right about the first part, but that didn’t mean that what the two of you were doing was a bad idea. In fact, you thought it was the opposite. 

You were lonely, and you were pretty sure he was too. Why couldn’t the two of you help each other feel not alone? 

“It’s okay. Seriously. I want this,” You told him as you shifted closer toward him and ran a hand through his hair. 

He was looking at you now, searching your eyes for full confirmation that this really was okay. And he didn’t see any uncertainty in your gaze, but he still was hesitant. 

“Please,” The word was soft and quiet, but Steve heard you loud and clear, and something inside of him shifted. 

Finally, he was kissing you again and not wasting a second to move you back on your back so that he was on top of you as he peppered kisses down your body. 

And finally, he was pulling off his shirt and pants and boxers and grabbing a condom, and you were taking off the remainder of your clothes as well. 

And finally, he was slowly pushing himself inside of you and groaning at the feeling of you around him, your wet walls taking him in so well and squeezing around his cock so tightly. 

You moaned and winced at the feeling as you adjusted to having him inside of you. You had had sex before but Steve was huge, and it felt like it was your first time all over again. 

“You okay?” He asked, hand finding your cheek to softly stroke it. 

You gave him a small nod and let your eyes slip shut as you shifted your hips a little. “Mhm. You can move now.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as a way to say “okay” and then slowly began moving, pulling out just a little bit and then pushing right back into you. 

You moaned uncontrollably as your chest swelled and your body was overcome with an insane amount of emotions; and all of them were surprisingly good emotions, which you hadn’t been used to anymore. You had felt so empty for so long that you didn’t expect to ever feel anything again. 

But, now here you were with Steve. 

You opened your eyes and immediately met his dark gaze. You didn’t shy away from his stare. Instead, you liked looking at him and seeing how equally enamored he was with you in that moment because of what the two of you were doing. 

His hair was falling into his eyes with every thrust, so you reached up to run your hands through it, and you loved the loud groan he elicited when you gave his dark locks a soft pull. He began pounding into you with much more vigor. 

“Fuck, Steve. Yes.”

“You’re so good, doing so well for me,” He said as his hand snaked down between your bodies to begin rubbing tight circles against your clit. 

You cried out his name loudly and arched your back at the feeling of his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing around me so tight, fuck,” Steve groaned, movements getting harsher and sloppier with each thrust. “You wanna come?”

You nodded immediately and frantically. “M’so close, yes. Please, please make me come.”

His fingers rubbed your clit harder and faster, which was enough to make you see stars and send you over the edge. His lips messily found yours, swallowing your moans as he continued fucking you through your orgasm and found his own release only moments later. 

Your breaths were still coming out in soft pants and you could feel Steve softening inside of you. “Fuck, that was really great.”

“Yeah,” He agreed with a nod and smile as he slipped out of you and moved to his side, still looking at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes. 

Things became comfortably quiet as the two of you simply stared at each other and you could finally feel your eyelids actually getting heavy. But, you didn’t want to fall asleep there. 

“Can you take me home?” You asked, breaking eye contact and sitting up in the bed. 

“Yeah, no problem.”

Minutes later, you were back in the clothes you’d shown up in and then you were back in Steve’s passenger seat. 

And right when your head hit your own pillow, you were asleep and didn’t wake up for a solid eight hours. Which was much different from the usual six, sometimes even five, hours you had become used to getting.

You didn’t think that you’d have sex with Steve again. 

Yes, it was absolutely mind-blowing and you’d love for it to happen again because of how good it made you feel; probably the most “good” you’d felt in a while. But, in your head, it was a fluke. You didn’t regret it, but you just didn’t think the circumstances would align for it to happen again. 

However, when the next night rolled around, you found yourself creating your own circumstances and calling him, and he didn’t hesitate to tell you to come over. 

-

Now 

“You miss him?”

You almost made some joking comment about how Steve was still inside of you and he somehow decided that right then was the time to shift the conversation to your best friend, but you refrained from doing so.

Steve was always so much softer than you were after sex, and he had always wanted to make sure you knew that he was there for you if you wanted more than just sex.

You had wanted to show him that you would do the same for him too; let him talk about Nancy and everything he was feeling from that situation. But, it was too hard.

Because more than anything, you wanted this to be as mindless as possible.

After a few weeks, he decided to stop trying to start a conversation with you after because of how little you reciprocated. However, apparently, this time was different though.

And it was also different for you too because you actually found yourself wanting to talk back.

“All the time,” You finally answered as you shifted off of him and let your head find his pillow as you grabbed the thin sheet to pull it over you a bit. “Pretty much all hours of the day.”

You didn’t say that the only time you didn’t miss Eddie, that the only time things actually felt the tiniest bit bearable, was when you were here with Steve. Because you hadn’t realized that until right then, and the thought slightly startled you.

You turned on your side and faced him. “You miss her?”

He turned too and his hand found your hip underneath the sheet and mindlessly started tracing small circles on the bare skin. “Who?”

You gave him a look because you knew that he knew exactly who you were referring to.

His eyes shut for a second and you could tell that he was thinking about what to say. “Sometimes, I guess.”

You glanced down at the scar he had on his abdomen from where he was attacked by the demo-bats and slowly let your fingers trace against it. “You could always just tell her, y’know? Tell her that you love her.”

“Did you ever tell him?” His voice was quiet.

Your eyes flickered back up to his. “Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

His words slightly confused you but you nodded your head. “Of course, probably every day. But, that’s different.”

“How?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, and you thought it was slightly funny because in your head the answer to his one-worded question was obvious.

“I didn’t love him how you love her.”

“What?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He shifted and sat up in the bed, the sheet sinking down and barely covering his hips. You almost followed suit and sat up too, but you were too tired to do so, so you just looked up at him and started becoming confused because of how confused he seemed.

“You and Eddie… You two– You guys were together, right?” He asked, eyes finding yours.

“Ew, no,” You said and laughed a bit. “Eddie is like–” You sighed at your mistake. “Was like… a brother to me.”

“But…” Steve trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say because there was a lot circling his mind right then.

“What made you think that we were dating?”

“You guys were so close. It just– It made a lot of sense,” He answered, and you understood what he meant. You and Eddie were insanely close, but not in that way. Never in that way. Simply the thought of him being anything more than your closest friend felt slightly incestual to you. “And when I saw you that night, after everything, you were crying at lover’s lake.”

“I was not crying,” You said with a small scoff. Although you did remember that you had been close to it that night. “And I hadn’t necessarily gone there on purpose, I was just walking around to make myself tired so that I could sleep, and I ended up there.”

“Wow,” He said, letting out a small breath as he leaned back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

You almost laughed at how surprised he was at your words. “I can’t believe how big of a revelation this is for you.”

He turned toward you again. “It’s just– Wow.”

“Okay, now that that is cleared up, I guess, back to you and your situation. You should just tell–”

Before you could finish your statement, Steve abruptly pressed his lips against yours.

The two of you never kissed outside of sex, only during it and as a prelude to it. Never after, though.

So, that surprised you. Even though you kissed him back almost immediately because of how many times you’d kissed him before, you were still in shock because this was probably the most chaste and sweetest kiss he had ever given you. But, it still felt so familiar.

When he pulled away, you should’ve asked something along the lines of “what was that for?” or “why did you do that?”. But, instead, your mind trailed back to something Steve had said earlier.

“I could never tell you to fuck off.”

And that statement made you ask a question that might have sounded so random, but it felt like it was connected to what he had just done.

“Earlier, why did you say that you could never tell me to fuck off?”

Steve’s hand softly stroked your cheek and he was completely unfazed by your question. “Because I like you too much.”

“But, Nancy–”

He shook his head before you could finish. “She’s with Jonathan and she’s happy. They’re meant to be. I’ve accepted that.”

“But…” It was your turn to trail off because you didn’t know what to say. All you could do was simply stare at him and take notice of how tenderly he was looking at you in that moment.

“This whole time I felt like a horrible person because I was falling for you while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend. I can’t believe how wrong I was,” He said with a small sigh.

Your mind was effectively blank and there was nothing you could even think of saying to Steve right then. There was way too much to process in such a short amount of time.

You felt like you were in the same “misunderstanding boat” as him. Because in your mind he had still been in love with Nancy. Therefore, why would you allow yourself to like him? You would’ve just ended up getting hurt and losing him, and he was the only thing in your life that made you feel somewhat better about Eddie.

You were then reminded of your earlier realization, and how good it felt being with Steve on sleepless nights like these.

“I thought you loved Nancy,” You finally said.

“And I thought you and Eddie had been together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “We should talk more. Our communication is pretty shitty.”

His arm circled your waist as he laughed too and pulled you close to him. You let your head settle on his chest and your eyes slip shut.

It was quiet for a few moments before you decided to finally let yourself be completely honest with him. “I think I like you too much too. Like, too much. It’s so much harder to go to sleep when I’m not here with you. And you make things feel a lot better. Everything that happened… It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with you. Somehow it all actually feels okay.”

Your voice was soft and it could’ve been easy for Steve not to hear you, but he did. Instead of immediately responding, he simply held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You could’ve sworn if your eyes weren’t closed you’d be crying from the action.

“Don’t leave tonight, okay?”

His request didn’t fully surprise you, but at the same time, it did. Mainly because it was something that neither of you ever really talked about or acknowledged.

Sometimes, actually a lot of the times, you would end up falling asleep in Steve’s bed with his arms around you, but you’d always be gone before the morning came because you knew that everything would feel too “real” if your moments with Steve lived beyond the nighttime. And he never called you out on abruptly leaving or ever tried to convince you to stay.  

Of course, now, you didn’t care about what it would mean if you stayed with him as the night slowly faded away. And in fact, you found yourself aching for mornings with him and days spent together doing nothing or driving aimlessly around town in addition to the amazing nights you’d have together.

You smiled softly into the darkness as you nuzzled yourself impossibly closer to him and finally responded. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery imagine #joe keery smut

[loopy-calico]

Sun analysis !!

had some thoughts after i read this tsams confessions post about Sun and how it doesn't feel like he has bonded with his family outside of Moon. you should probably read that first bc i'll be quoting it.

so here's a bit of a (completely lowercase) rant on some of the (in-universe) reasons why i think that might be

'-seeing your entire family grieving over someone [solar] who didn't really give the same amount of love to you as they did to them'

yet sun still acted extremely upset after solar died, which is understandable, but i think has deeper meaning than just 'oh he's sad because he was close to solar (he wasn't) and then watched him die'

it could be an extension of the grieving he never got to do after old moon and lunar died

acting more distraught than he really is makes him fit in more with the rest of his family, who all were close to solar and are deeply affected

he did watch solar die so, that does contribute

not to say he wasn't upset about solar dying! or shouldn't be! it's just that he didn't really...know solar. or talk to him. they never once connected. so why would he be as upset as he is?

'How Sun just leaves, and Lunar, Earth, and Monty go off to grieve without him.'

i think this comes from how him and old moon never talked about their problems. if they felt bad, they had to suck it up and deal with it alone-- after all, you wouldn't want to burden your already stressed out brother with your insignificant problems!

sun and old moon followed that pattern for long enough that it's nature to sun now: he can't be emotional around his siblings, he's not supposed to. it's why he leaves once earth and lunar are going off to properly grief.

'When he speaks to them, he doesn't know what to say or how to respond most of the time. It sometimes sounds like he is talking to a complete stranger.'

sun and old moon were tremendously codependent. they were so close. concerningly so. sometimes, it felt as if they had zero connections outside of each other:

they spent the first years of their life in the same body, together 24/7. after that, they still live and work in the same place, once again being together 24/7. at the start of the show, it seems as if moon doesn't talk to anyone outside of sun, and that sun rarely talked to anyone else; monty and roxy, sure, but they're relationships with sun weren't great, either.

even once lunar rolled around, sun and old moon only believed they could truly trust each other. they were each other's purpose.

sun will never have that amount of a bond, or those intimate of experiences, with anyone else. sun only talked to old moon for so. long. how can he learn to talk to anyone else, if they're not him?

'-said he’s in the best mental state he’s been in a while, but sitting alone in your house just seems extremely lonely.'

old moon would get annoyed with sun easily. sun was anxious and felt the need to check up on moon a lot, make sure he wasn't doing anything that hurt him-- but moon never liked it. he got snappish.

sun and old moon's conversations went better when old moon initiated them.

sun is too afraid to try initiating affection with his siblings anymore. after all, what if they get annoyed? they have real things they're dealing with, what if he's just bothering them? not just with his problems, but with wanting to talk at all?

why even try if it'll probably end up bad anyway?

(BY THE WAY THIS IS JUST MY INTERPRETATION. NOT TRYING TO SAY ITS CANON OR ANYTHING.)

#our poor boy #love him #love him alot #tsams sun #sams sun #analysis #rant #sun and moon show #:))) #i had fun writing this #his only friends are his cats #only 'people' he can truly talk to #the sun and moon show

[multi-fandom-imagine]

«And all I can breathe is your life

A/n: here it is! That Leon Vendatta angst with a happy ending I was talking about.

He was drinking again, something he did his best to stop when he met and married you.

Ironic thing was that you were the very reason to why he was drowning himself in alcohol in the first place. It should have been him, it’s what he kept telling himself.

It.Should.Have.Been.Him.

+•+

Chris had wished he could go another specialist, go to anyone about this but Kennedy was his only option.

It felt wrong to bother him, it made his skin crawl knowing that he couldn’t even let the man grieve over the death of his wife. He couldn’t imagine what he was going through, didn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to have your soul mate ripped from you, the one you love just gone in a blink of an eye.

He’s meet you a handful of times thanks to Claire, he knew how close you had been with his sister. Working his jaw he slipped out of the car glancing over at Rebecca. “Let’s get this over with.” Chris muttered.

+•+

It was the one thing he kept replaying in his mind over and over.

A stupid argument over something he couldn’t even remember. Something that he wished he could have taken back.

The image of your tears streaming down your face, the slamming of the door echoing in the back of his mind like some sick joke.

Because if that stupid argument had never happened then you’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be alone.

Drinking. It was the easiest thing to do to try and forget your face. To drown out the memories of your laughter, your smile.

And even though he tried to drink away your memory it didn’t stop him from calling your number just to hear you voice.

It didn’t stop him from staring at the wore out picture of you on his wallet.

“I really am a gluten for punishment aren’t I.” Leon didn’t even bother to look up from Rebecca’s concerned gaze, his finger hovering over your name, tempted to hear your voice one more time. “You sure you want to be near me Doc. People tend to die around me….Y/n….she didn’t stand a chance.”

Rebecca opened her mouth though nothing came out, she didn’t know how to answer that. She wasn’t even sure how could answer something like that. She didn’t like seeing him so cynical. “Leon.”

“Did Chris tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Unscrewing the cap to his flask he nearly scoffed, ignoring the burning of the alcohol he did his best not to snap at her. “That I’m the reason why my wife is dead.”

+•+

Wincing from the bright light you were about to groan at Leon to turn off the lamp until it hit you.

You were kidnapped. You were kidnapped by some psycho because you resembled his dead wife. Doing your best to push down the sudden panic you noticed your writes tied. “Mother fucker.”

It was the same thing for the past month, the man would come in. Say you belonged to him, you’d scream until your voice was raw, demand that he let you go. He’s refuse and then you would be knocked out by some gas.

Same cycle.

Rinse and repeat.

“I see our dear Princess has finally awoken.” Just hearing his voice made your skin crawl.

“Go fuck yourself! You kidnapped me you nutcase.”

Stepping close the man cupped your chin, his thumb gliding over your lips. “Kidnapping is such s strong word. I would like to call it…rehomed.” Uncuffing you from your chair while still keeping your wrists bound the man pulled you in to his chest. “Such a beauty….I have something to show you.”

Not letting you get a chance to reply, the man started to tug you down halls. So many that it was starting to make your head spin. “When my husband finds you he’s going to fucking kill you.” You snapped but that only made him laugh.

“You mean that man right there?”

And suddenly the whole room was lit up, a screen flickering on. Your heart lurched seeing him, he looked so tired, so sad. “Leon.”

“Kill them.”

Snapping your head up you didn’t even get chance as the feed cut out, you could hear the gone go off as your jumped towards the screen. Leon’s name spilled from your lips as the man, Arias you had come to find yanked you back to his chest. His fingers running through your hair, letting you as you sobbed.

“Shh….now you have no one.No one knows you’re here. So just accept your fate and be my wife.”

Raising your head, you quickly spat in the man’s face only to feel a harsh slap against your skin. Looking up at the man you didn’t care what happened to you now, not anymore. “Fuck you, I’d rather die.”

Rolling his neck, Arias grabbed you by the arm. A yelp escaping your lips as he tugged you to another room. Tossing you in, he turned his back locking the door as your hands started to slam on the metal.

“You piece of shit! Let me out”

Wrists raw you stumbled away from the door. Tears swelling in your eyes as your backed into a corner. Sitting down you drew your knees close to your chest, wrists still bound you then started to sob.

Leon was gone and you never felt more alone.

+•+

Rebecca was more than grateful to be searching for any survivors. She rather not be dealing with whatever Leon and Chris were handling yet with everyone one she checked she couldn’t find a single person.

Until she came to the last door, she could barley see a figure sitting down, the contrast of the white dress was whet stood out though her eyes went wide when she realized who it was.

Who you were.

“Y/n….Y/n Kennedy? Holy shit! Am I ever glad to see you.” Giving you a smile, Rebecca slipped into the room quickly checking you over. “You’re alright…right?”

Blinking, you bit your lip as she undid your cuffs though you were trying to rack your brain on who she was. “I’m…I’m fine. Who are you?”

“Oh! I’m Rebecca Chambers! Chris Redfield and your husband sent me to find survivors an- Hey! Wait! Where are you going.”

‘Leon’…Leon was alive?!’

Heart pounding in your chest you grasped the edges of the white dress as you took off running, hells flying off but you didn’t care. You had to see him, you had to be in his arms again.

“I’m coming Leon.”

+•+

Chris rolled his neck, he couldn’t wait to go home and rest though maybe he shouldnt leave Leon alone. With Arias dead, he wasn’t sure what might happen to him now.

“Leon.”

Scoffing, Leon turned his head. He had half a mind to reach for his flask but that was long gone now. “You don’t need to Leon me. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s Bullshit Leon you need to talk about this.About your wi-.”

“Don’t Chris I don’t want too-.”

“Leon!”

Tensing for a moment Leon squeezed his eyes shut,he had to be going crazy because how he was hearing your voice. Head turning to the sound, his eyes went wide for a fraction of a second until he started to run.

It couldn’t be you, it couldn’t. You were dead! They told him your were dead! That nothing was left of your body. Yet here you were running towards him and then your were in his arms.

You were in his arms and of felt so good.

Leon didn’t even realize that he had fallen to his knees, that his body was shaking and tears were spilling from his eyes and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because you were alive.

Threading your fingers through the man’s hair, you placed a kiss to the side of his head. You felt him desperately holding on. His fingers digging into the fabric of the dress. You were so happy, so happy knowing he was okay, that you were both going to be okay.

“I’m sorry Y/n…I’m sorry. I should have never fought…that night I shouldn’t have.”

“Shh”Kneeling down you brushed the man’s tears away as you gave him a smile. “You have nothing to apologize for Leon…I’m just happy you’re here.”

Chuckling weakly, Leon buried his face into your neck inhaling your scent deeply. He couldn’t wait to get you home, to have you in his arms again.

+•+

It was getting close to it being four months since the incident and it, something Chris was grateful for since it means he was slowly putting that moment behind him. Grabbing a hold of the mail he started to slip through the junk until he paused on one particular piece.

One letter, addressed from one Leon Scott Kennedy.

Hit with a sense of curiosity, he sat down at table reading it. An invitation for a diner, a thank you for pulling him out of his depression, and for making him tag along because if he didn’t then it meant he wouldn’t have found you and a thank you for giving him a chance to be a father.

Snorting, Chris pulled out his phone ringing up the man’s number. “Congrats Kennedy….you coulda called ya know…but ya.I’d love to see you two again. I mean I am gonna be godfather to this kid right.”

#drabbles #Drabble #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil x y/n #resident evil x you #resident evil vendetta

[lune-rosez]

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Warnings: A little bit of angst, mention of bleeding, strict parents, suicide

Space rider au belongs to: @onyxonline

About reader:A female (fav animal) reader, 23 years old, birth date: #### December 17, status: Royalty

All letters/Characters: 10111

Enjoy

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There you were... laying on the ground injured on your abdomen. Blood, your blood making a pool surrounding you. You were barely alive and breathing. Your home was destroyed by the prototype and his followers. Grieve took over you. Your brother died right next to you, sadness overwhelms your beating heart. You reached out for his motionless hand, grabbing it.

Your tears run down like a waterfall on your cheeks. You didn't much care about your parents corpses right near you, but you only care for the ones who are close to you. Your younger brother is the one you always hate yet, still love him and protect him. And, the promise you made to protect him, was a complete failure.

Perhaps your parents were right. You are useless. Useless, a failure, and an unworthy daughter of the royal family. You failed to protect your loved ones. You failed to protect your kingdom and your people. The grieving feelings were now hurting your heart, Filled with pain, sadness, and the scent of failure. You tightened your grip on your motionless dead brother's hand. Your tears flowing like a waterfall down on your cheeks as you got angry at yourself for not protecting your loved ones.

You deserved to die in this state. You deserved the pain that you have received. 'A failure like me is always a failure' You thought to yourself as you cried and sob. Slowly your eyes begin to become blurry, you can barely open your eyes.

Is this my end?

Will I die right here and right now? You thought.

You closed your eyes as the silence became louder in your surroundings. One last tear drop fell down off your cheek as you slowly closed your eyes and let the darkness consume you.

Not long after, A light source was over your body. You can hear people's voices but the voices are muffled, it felt like you were under water. Someone held your body up a bit. Your breathing slowly became normal. You coughed up some blood as you slowly open your eyes. Blurry figures surround you. You tried to move but due to the severe damage on your abdomen, it made you groan in pain. It caught the figures surrounding you in shock but you couldn't see it on their faces. All you can see was blurry black figures for now. You were alive, barely alive. It was clearly a miracle for them though.

You can feel someone lifting you up bridal style. You couldn't quite sense your surroundings due to your poor state. Your eyes slowly closed again but this time... You were asleep on whoever's arms you're on.

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You felt something soft under your back and your head. You can feel less pain from your abdomen and you're relieved by the loss of the pain. Slowly, you open your eyes to reveal you looking up to a white ceiling. Your vision become clear as you slowly gain your normal eyesight. You looked around, it looked like you were in a room. A patient room. Though, you've never seen one since your family and people are the type of old century style like.

You slowly got up into a sitting position. You touched the place where your abdomen was, it was wrapped up in bandages along with your head. You sighed, but you still had the grieving in your heart.

The door of the room opened to reveal a red female bear coming in with a tray. The bear didn't seem to realise that you're awake. As the female bear turned around. she got startled and let out a small squeak a bit, seeing you wide awake and in a sitting position. You tilted your head in a bit adorable way, confused seeing the bear stand there Staring at you with amusement in her eyes.

“Beautiful...” She mumbled out.

Tho, she was the one who took care of you while you were asleep and kept seeing you multiple times, she never saw you looking like this wide awake. She's still in awe seeing your eyes staring at her.

You stared in silence as the female bear did the same. You won't lie but, she's very beautiful in your perspective. You tilted your head a bit still curious and confused. You decided to break the silence and speak up.

“Um... Wh- who are you...” You mumbled out a little louder.

When the red female bear heard you speak. She snapped back into reality out of her mind. Your voice sounded angelic to her.

“Oh! How rude of me! I'm bobby bearhug! But bobby for short!” she laughs nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

You found her adorable for some reason. She kinda reminds you of your cousin, Sasha. You couldn't help but smile.

“The pleasure is all mine, bobby..” You smiled at her warmly.

Bobby felt quite calm seeing your smile. She smiled back as she stepped forward to you and put the tray of food down on your nightstand.

“So... What's your name?” She asked sitting down next to you.

“My name is Y/N L/N. You may call me Y/N, bobby.” you smiled.

Bobby couldn't help but find you adorable but she held back her urge to hug you. Instead she slowly took the bowl of soup from the nightstand and gave it to you.

“Why don't you eat? You're probably hungry all this time!” She giggled out.

You took the soup in your hands. Taking sip from the soup and surprisingly, it was delicious. Just some chicken(😧) and potatoes. Tho, it's quite simple but you never tasted anything like this since all you ate was royal food.

“It's quite delicious!” You continued to drink the soup till it's empty.

“Glad you like it! Picky was the one who made the soup! She's the best chef here!” Bobby began to ramble about all of her friends and yet, you listen through her rambling.

It's quite surprising that she didn't notice that she was rambling almost an hour, but you didn't mind.

“Oh! I forgot to ask you something!” She paused her rambling and now looking at you.

“Hm?”

Bobby hesitated and took a deep breath. She fidget with her fingers as she began to feel nervous about telling you and asking you something.

“Are... Are you part of the team of prototype?” She asked.

Your eyes were shocked. You thought she knew about you being royalty. You sighed, making bobby nervous.

“No.. I... I'm not part of the... Prototype...” You mumbled out. You didn't want to think about the prototype at all.

Bobby stayed quiet. You began to thought. What if she doesn't believe me? How come she doesn't know I'm royalty? Millions of questions are in your head giving you headaches. Bobby noticed you were having a headache. She sighed and took the tray as she stood up.

“Um.. I'm going back with the others... Are you going to alright here?” Her voice mixed with concern. You nod a little avoiding contact as well.

Bobby smiled before closing the white door leaving you alone in the room. You stood up from the bed and started walking near the cabinets. You're curious about the stuff in here since you were a child you always had the curiosity of things. You walked around the room till you saw a light switch.

“Oh?” Curious, you touch the switch.

Lights went off and then you touched the switch again and it turned on again. It continues for twenty minutes just touching the light switch for fun. You stopped doing it and walked around again in circles out of boredom. You ended up tiring yourself. I mean who can't be bored stuck in a room? And yet! There's no books to read! How boring!

You lay back down on your bed and let the tiredness consume you to sleep. You slept peacefully.

Poke, poke. Someone's poking you as you sleep, you ignored it and continued to sleep. Poke, poke. You groaned and again ignoring the poking. Poke, poke. You groaned this time you slowly got up into a sitting position. You rubbed your eyes out of tiredness and slowly open them. You look to the left to see four people. One of them was bobby.

“Who! In the god's name, keeps poking me.” You managed to groaned out.

Poke, poke. You turned to the side to see two more people. They stopped poking you and both looked away.

“...”

“Oops.” The chicken and the rabbit mumbled.

You sighed and look down to the floor. I guess the rabbit and the chicken are hoppy and kickin.

“Um... Sorry about them..” Bobby said. But the other three were quiet.

“It's.. fine...” You were still feeling tired

Silence never have been louder.

“Um... This quite awkward, but. We want to ask you a few questions.” The elephant spoke. You guess it was bubba. Since you heard him and the others from bobby.

“And after I answer your questions... Will you answer my questions?” You ask back. The elephant nodded.

“Then you may start asking. But I won't answer the personal ones.” You nod softly. And bubba did the same.

The others seem like they were here to watch. The orange dog you guessed was dogday and the purple cat you also guessed was catnap.

“For my first question, What is your name, your age, and your date of birth.” He sounded professional if I do say so myself.

“My name is Y/N, age 23, and for birth date it's ####, December 17.” You answered back.

Bubba took note of it on his Clipboard before going to the next question.

“For my second question, What is your stat--”

“I Cannot answer that.” you caught him off. With that bubba nodded.

After he nodded and scribble down on his Clipboard hoppy asked a question.

“Why won't you answer the Second question, huh? Don't you think I will believe you entirely! Besides your in the spac--”

“Didnt I say before? I won't answer the personal questions. And it's up to 'YOU' to believe me or not. I won't force you and the others.” You gave her a glare making hoppy scoff and look away angrily.

Bubba sighed.

“This will be my last question. When did the prototype came to your planet?” Bubba asked.

You paused and hesitated to answer. Feeling sadness run over again. But, you forced yourself to answer.

“It.. it was right about after festival ceremony ended. They strike as the last firework Flew to the sky... I remember it like it was Yesterday...” You put your hand on your chest as the grief of sadness came back in.

“I... I couldn't save my younger brother... I... I couldn't save him... I didn't know what to do... I went in panic... Calling for help... ” You broke down thinking of your brother.

The others didn't know what to say. Bobby came beside you, hugging you and comforting you.

“It's not your fault Y/N... ” bobby tried to reassure you.

You cried yourself to sleep as you layed your head down on bobby's lap. The others didn't knew that you would react this way. Hoppy feels bad for yelling at you an hour ago.

“I feel kinda bad for Y/N... Nor did she have a painful wound. She had to witness her younger brother died, making her heart pain in grief.” Dogday said in a low volume so he won't wake you up.

“Same here, Caps.” Kickin said putting his hand on dogday's shoulder.

‘We should let her sleep for now...’ Catnap hand signed and the others agree. Bobby slowly puts your head on a pillow so she can go with the others, since she doesn't want you waking up.

They left the room and quietly closing the door. You slept peacefully on your bed. Letting the silence and tiredness consume you, as you slept more peacefully than before. You never really got any peaceful sleep back when you were still in your kingdom and home planet.

Your parents are the type of strict people. Giving you lessons about royalty that concludes, dancing, playing a piano and violin, how to walk properly, how to greet people properly, and more other stuff. You always get stressed doing those things. You rarely sleep. But now, you feel at peace. Despite the lost of your loved ones. You feel at peace...

Besides...

IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT...

BAD LUCK OR GOOD LUCK...

IT DOESN'T MATTER...

AS LONG YOU BELIEVE FOR HOPE...

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N/A: took long enough to finish this and I feel like it's cringe T^T

And a lot of mistakes, damn it's hard when it's on laptop T^T

#poppy playtime #dogday x reader #smiling critters #dogday #fem reader