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itsjusthockey · 1 year

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When The Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Here it is, my heart and soul. Enjoy.

wc:4,466 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

Content Warning: Swearing, major angst

Part 1 (read first)

Unpublished For Fun First Draft

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

When the words fall from your lips, and the sentence registers in his brain, it smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to pass out.

Instead, he pauses by the door, his entire body freezing, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you just makes him crazy. For what feels like a century, he concentrates on his breathing skills, taking a shaky breath in and letting it go, hoping the extra oxygen will help his brain makes sense of what you’ve thrown at him. He knows you’re drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He breaks his focus when he hears slight shuffling behind him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly turns to face you. When his eyes land on your figure, you’re sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooling around your waist. You’re not looking at him for a moment, instead staring out his window, watching the world outside intently, but as if you feel his stare, you tear your eyes away from Jersey and allow your eyes to meet his. You blink slowly, once, twice, and a tear falls from your left eye.

“You fucked me up there for a while.”

You finish the sentence with a forced laugh, and you quickly wipe another tear away, almost seeming embarrassed. Jack feels his face flush, and his heart begins to pound. He can practically hear the thumping in his ears, and his stomach flips in circles. He can’t swallow; the lump forming tight in his throat won’t let him, and even worse, his hands start shaking. His heart is cracking, breaking into a million tiny pieces, and his body is letting him know.

The weight of your words stills time, and he feels like you’re both trapped in the suspended gravity of the moment. Your confession, clearly vulnerable and raw, reverberates through his entire being, continuing to tear him apart bit by bit.

Among the uncomfortable silence, the room grows smaller, almost suffocating, as Jack tries to find his voice. He wants to comfort you, hold you, reach out and understand why you feel this way and why he is the reason why. It’s only been seconds, but he’s trying to play out the entire last year, pinpoint the exact moment where he could have fucked up so badly to make you feel the way you do.

“Wha-what did I do?” His voice is small, almost pleading, as he asks.

You let out a shallow breath, and Jack can almost see the wheels turning inside your head. He has no idea what you’re about to say, and everything that has come out of your mouth is a whiplash, so he can’t even begin to guess.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of resignation—as Jack watches you search for the right words to explain what you’re feeling. It’s as if you're carefully selecting each syllable, fully aware of the impact they will have on him, and you’re scared he’ll break.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Jack," you finally say, your voice soft but laced slightly with bittersweet sadness. "At least not intentionally, and not something you had any control over. My feeling are my own, and I can’t blame you for them.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, and Jack's heart tightens impossibly further as he tries to decipher their meaning. The knots in his stomach tighten with each passing second, and a mixture of anxiety, dread, and anticipation fills the room.

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask, your voice timid.

Jack's mind races, searching through the corridors of memories, until he finds the moment you're referring to—the night that he finally felt a spark of something real, which laid the foundation for the relationship. He nods slowly, his eyes locked with yours, urging you to continue.

An almost wistful smile crosses your lips, and Jack can almost hear the nostalgia coloring your voice. "The crowded bar, the 2000s club music blaring, that stupid fucking costume you were wearing, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

As you speak, Jack's gaze softens, and the memory floods back as if it was yesterday—your infectious laughter when he’d made a stupid joke as he bought you a drink, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when he told you he hated mushrooms too, and the genuine connection that bloomed from one single night.

“I think a part of me fell in love with you right away,” you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "In the midst of the chaos, it seemed like we both understood who the person was beneath the facade we put on for the crowd.”

Jack comprehends the weight of your words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, It wasn't just one moment that "fucked you up," but rather a million things he never noticed right away.

“Jack?” You break him out of his headspace, patting the bed beside you. “You’re making this a million times worse just standing by the door looking like I’m killing you. “

Jack realizes he probably hasn’t moved an inch since you started speaking. So he swallows hard, takes a few hesitant steps toward the bed, and sits down. When he settles, you turn to face him and continue.

“It was my fault for getting attached to you so quickly," you sigh. “I think I knew it was too good to be true, and sex was all we would have. But I’d hoped that you were different from the way you looked at me; I’d hoped we’d fight against it, and somehow we’d end up together. “

Before he even knows what’s happening, his own tears are streaming down his face. He thought earlier, when he saw you cry, that nothing would hurt him more, but even though he thinks he’s going to die a lot when he’s with you, this might actually kill him.

A profound ache settles in his chest, intertwining with the shards of his own shattered heart. Your vulnerability cuts through the room, leaving him exposed and raw with emotions he didn’t even know he had. What makes everything worse? When you pause, noticing his tears, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his.

“Anyway, after a while, I got really tired. Like all of a sudden, I was drained of everything I had. I was sick of trying to force something that just wasn't there. And after some major soul-searching and my friends helping me, it clicked. I had to remove my love for you. Tell myself that even though I thought you were everything, you weren’t. So I decided I needed to be done.”

Jack hangs on to every word.

“So I moved on, even though I kinda suck at it because look where I am. But I decided to finally try to allow my heart to let go, close this chapter of my life and start a new one.”

Jack's heart sinks as he listens to your painful admission. The grip of your intertwined fingers provides a fragile lifeline, a small, tenuous connection that somehow manages to offer a glimmer of comfort amidst his shattering soul.

Tears continue to flow out of both your eyes, intermingling with the unspoken words that Jack is trying so hard to find a way to say.

He knows beneath his own heartache; there is a sliver of understanding. He knows that sometimes, moving on is the only choice, even if it feels impossible. But he also knows that he loves you now, somehow even more than anything in the world, and he doesn’t know if he can live without you.

As silence stretches between you, Jack knows time is ticking, and he finally musters the strength to respond.

“I love you,” he whispers, admitting it openly to you for the first time. “I can't pretend that I don’t and that I can just walk away because, for that past half a year, you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about.“

His heart races in his chest, pounding with the force of his love for you. His voice quivers as he continues, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings for you.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), so fucking sorry that I didn’t see how you felt at the beginning. My life was a fucking mess. I hated hockey, I hated living here, and I hated myself. I only cared about a quick high to distract myself from my constant lows, and I couldn’t see anything past that, and I’m so so sorry.”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, trying to bridge the distance that separates you. His eyes search yours, looking for signs of forgiveness and any chance he has for a future with you.

“You’re everything to me, and I’ve been trying to show you that, but clearly, we both just fucking suck at communication and feelings. But I want this (Y/N); I want you. More than anything.”

Tears are streaming heavily down both your faces, and Jack watches as you wipe them away with your free hand, gently sniffling. You’re both waiting, unsure of what to do next when you speak again.

“Well, this is not how I expected the night to go.” You try to joke, Jack letting out a small snort.

“I know, a lot of information just came to light.”

Jack glances at the clock and sees that it’s incredibly late, and when he peers outside his window, he sees that the city of Jersey is dead asleep, completely unaware of the mess unfolding in two of its inhabitants' lives.

“We should go to sleep, think about things.” Jack offers.

For the first time ever, when he’s offered you to stay, you do. You nod in agreement, wipe away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, and give a small, tired, and maybe still a little drunk smile. Both of you are emotionally drained, and the idea of sleep seems like paradise.

Jack helps you slide under the covers, tucking you in with gentle care for the second time tonight, but this time he feels an odd sense of clarity in understanding of you. He gets you settled, grabbing more water and anything else you could ever need before he moves to leave the room.

“You can stay, Jack; your couch sucks.”

Before he can stop himself, a laugh escapes him, and he steps back into the room. He isn’t sure if sleeping next to you is the best idea for his sake, but he also knows it would take a swat team to remove him now. Grabbing a few other things, he moves to the other side of the bed and settles in beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you for the moment.

His heart about stops, however, when your hands find his again as if you’re seeking comfort in the touch that connects you.

Jack's eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting off the sleep demons when you take your hand out from his. For a moment, he feels a pang of loss when you pull away. But as if you’re trying to repair his broken heart, you gently shift closer to him. Jack wraps his arm around you instinctively, pulling you to his chest until your bodies are molded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jack has never felt more complete as he gently traces circles on your back, his touch soothing on your skin, healing the ache in his heart.

As the minutes tick past, Jack can beat your breathing steady out, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection for himself. He quickly feels himself falling away with the warmth of your body pressed against his and the immense amount of love that he has for you.

——————————————————-

When morning sunlight seeps through the curtains and almost blinds Jack, he awakens from the best sleep he’s ever had. His eyes peel open, and the events of last night flood his mind. He quickly turns, expecting to see you still by his side. But as reality sets in, his heart sinks when he realizes you're no longer there.

He sits up, his mind foggy with sleep, and rubs his eyes, desperately trying to shake off the sleepiness. He glances around the room and looks in the bathroom, searching for any sign of you, and that's when he notices a faint sound coming from the kitchen.

Curiosity tugs at him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, his unease ending as he finds you standing with your hands on your hips in front of his coffee maker. You’re still clad in his clothes, and you look so goddamn adorable; he wishes he could stay right here forever.

“Hey, morning, uh—,” you clear your throat, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Jack smiles and nods as you grab two cups. Seconds later, you place a steaming brew on one side of his table, and he sits behind it. He gives you a thank you as you fill your own cup, moving to sit down across from him.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes that cuts through him like a knife. He grows even more anxious when you take a deep breath and set your cup on the counter.

“I had a little time to think this morning,” you say softly. "I needed to think about the mess last night, which I’m really sorry about, by the way. I shouldn’t have blindsided you like that, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad I did because we’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

End this?

You take another deep breath. "Last night...everything we said, it made me realize that I don't think you love me, Jack. I think you love an idea of what we could be rather than what we are.”

“No,” he protests softly, "I don’t know what you mean.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head. "I think you need to understand what I do, Jack. We aren’t meant to be. If we were, we would’ve. I loved you once, Jack, with everything I had. But it's gone now, and I don't think it can come back without killing me. I can't keep holding onto something that isn’t there.”

“What about last night?” He chokes out. “You didn’t feel that?

There's a painful silence between you, filled. Jack can feel his world crumbling around him after it felt whole for the first time last night.

“I'm sorry, Jack," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This past year, we’ve had some great nights, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. We aren’t good for each other, and I think you know that too.”

You grab his hand once more, giving it a quick squeeze. As you both sit there, hands entwined and hearts heavy, realization washes over Jack. You don’t feel the same as you did once, but it’s gone now. You’ve moved on, and he’s holding you here.

Jack has never experienced true heartbreak, but he guesses this is it because it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his soul, and numbness spreads through his body.

You both sit in silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts and emotions, when you finally break the silence.

“I want you to know that I genuinely care about you, and I always will.“ You manage a weak smile before getting up.

“I should go.” You say, moving to gather the few things you had with you the night before.

Jack wordlessly watches as you leave him, his body staying trapped in this seat. He waits, and a few minutes later, you come out dressed in the clothes you’d had on the night before. He watches as you pick up your heels, grab your phone, and cross the room once more to where he’s sitting.

You pause in front of him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's a bittersweet kiss, filled with heartbreaking emotions and the weight of what could have been.

With that, you offer him one last small smile, straightening up and turning away from him. You walk towards the door and open it, turning around one last time.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

The sentence is final, and a hollow feeling settles in his chest as the door shuts quietly behind you, signaling your last goodbye.

Let's just let it go

Jack is distracted, and it’s all your fault. Well, it is, but it isn’t. He shouldn’t blame you; he knows that’s not the mature thing to do. But he is a simple man, and it’s easier to say his game is off because of someone else rather than owning up to the fact that he’s struggling.

For the past two days, he can't focus on anything else but you during hockey practice. Every move he makes feels robotic as if he's going through the motions without actual purpose. He misses easy passes, shoots wide on every attempted goal, and falls on his ass at each free skate. Every time he finally gets in the right frame of mind, his thoughts drift back to you, and the cycle begins all over again.

It’s about an hour into morning practice when Jack feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Luke, looking at him with concern and a hint of annoyance.

“You okay?" Luke asks, “You seem a little…off.”

Jack has two options, play it cool, or get defensive. He chooses option two.

“Fuck off, just had a rough couple days.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

“Whatever you say.”

Jack lets out an annoyed huff as it’s his turn to drill, skating away from Luke and running through the play. He makes it most of the way through with ease, but when it’s time for him to shoot, it hits the boards about ten feet from where he aimed.

Frustration wells up inside as he watches the puck slide to a halt. He’s been playing terribly. His brother knows it, his team knows it, and now he does, and it's eating him alive. Jack mutters out a few under his breath and skates back to the line.

Luke, ever observant and fed up, skates back to Jack with new determination.

“So I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but snap out of it. You're better than this."

It’s tough love, and Jack's jaw tenses, his pride wounded a bit. He doesn't want to admit that a girl is causing his downfall, that your absence has left a void in his heart and made him suck at hockey.

“I’m fine,” Jack finally mutters, "I just... I have to figure things out.”

Luke claps him on the back hard and nods. “Good, just let it go.”

Just let it go.

Let me let you go

As if you dropped from the face of the earth, Jack hasn’t seen you. Not that he’s been looking. He hasn’t seen you at the bagel place, not at the bar, not at the library on your campus that he may have snuck into. You’re absolutely nowhere to be found.

He thinks you’re avoiding him, or maybe you just don’t care and forget he even existed.

Jack has no idea you’re in your own hell, going back and forth every day, debating if ending things was the right decision. You know it was, but it still hurts. You don’t check Instagram, you don’t watch hockey, and you stay away from all things that have to do with the boy you once loved.

Jack has no idea that you feel the heartbreak the same as him, and he has no idea that you watched him walk into the bagel place, head down, looking just as dejected as you.

He has no idea that you suddenly told your friend you weren't hungry or that you went home and cried again because even though you’re healing, you’re moving on, you still think about all the things that happened and all the things that could have been.

Jack has no idea it was just as hard for you to walk out the door, and that letting him go hurts like hell.

Quiet when I'm comin' home, and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

*two months later*

Two months have passed since you walked out of Jacks's life, and every minute he thought it’d get easier, it hasn’t.

But, as his mom, dad, and brothers have been telling him ever since he spilled the reason why he’s been a complete and utter mess, he has to move on with his life.

So, slowly but surely, he regained his focus and got back to his regular routine. He drowned his thoughts in the rink, and hockey, once again, became his refuge. Providing him with a sense of purpose and a distraction from the pain that weighs on his heart daily.

He still thinks about you every day, though. Thinks about the good memories and our bad, the inside jokes from the late nights, and all the what-ifs.

He wishes he could move on, he really does, but you invade his mind when he least expects it. He could be doing anything, and suddenly he’s daydreaming about you. But finally, he’s learning to keep those thoughts at bay, push them aside and bury them deep when they try to surface.

He knows that suppressing his feeling is bad and that, eventually, it will all bubble to the surface. But it’s easier this way to pretend you don’t matter and try to move on.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jack decides to treat Luke to his favorite bagel place he’s been avoiding. It’s been months since he’s seen you, and what are the odds of seeing you there?

Apparently, really fucking high.

As Jack and Luke enter the bagel place, the familiar smell makes him slightly ache; he tells Luke about his favorite things on the menu. It isn’t until they order, step back and wait that his heart skips a beat and then stands entirely still.

Jack hears you before he sees you, your perfect laugh echoing behind him, his heart melting as you hiccup a bit, continuing to have trouble breathing between chuckles.

His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn’t want to look, but he turns around anyway. There you are, sitting in your favorite corner table. You look a little bit different but still just as beautiful, and every bit the woman he is still hopelessly in love with.

He almost lets a smile cross his face when it’s wiped away before it can even form.

You’re not alone.

You’re sitting across from a guy whose face he can’t see. He’s clad in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and a backward cap that Jack knows is your favorite way men wear their hats. You’re laughing again at something the guy says, leaning away from the table slightly and rolling your eyes. Even though you’re playing to look annoyed, he can see how your eyes light up with genuine amusement.

Jack feels a million things at once, primarily pain, and it’s coming from his chest. His heart, after repairing itself bit by bit for two long months, is being ripped open all over again.

He genuinely feels bile rise in his throat when Luke nudges him, "Hey, are you alright?"

Jack is utterly speechless, and he can’t even begin to compose himself as Luke follows his stare, his eyes landing on you.

They both watch as the guy at your table leans in closer, his hands finding yours and intertwining them with his own. Jack's stomach churns again as you smile, blush, and laugh again.

Jack has to fight to keep upright, and he knows he has to get the hell out of here. He can't bear to watch any longer, to witness the love of his life be happy with someone else while he’s still broken.

Not waiting for anything, Jack breaks for the door and out into the open air, trying to get more oxygen to his brain.

The next twenty minutes are a blur, and they make their way back to Jacks's apartment. He’s silent, replaying the vision of you with someone else over and over again. He’s hurting harder than he ever thought possible. He felt he was moving on, making progress, forgetting about you. But seeing you with someone else has reopened the wound he tried so hard to heal.

Sitting alone in his room, Jack knows now that pretending you don't matter and burying his feelings deep inside is only a temporary fix. The harsh truth is that he still loves you,

and It kills him that you’re finally moving on.

He should be happy, you’re happy, and when you love someone, that’s all you want. It is for them to be happy. You got what you wanted, a clean break from him, and you found a way to repair yourself from the damage that the relationship has caused you.

An hour later, Luke walks into the room, making sure he’s still there.

“Are you gonna make it?”

It’s a simple question with an extremely difficult answer. He knows deep down that he needs to let you go, focus on himself, and let you be happy without him.

He owes it to himself to try to heal, focus on other things, and hope that one day, you’ll just be someone he used to know.

But for now, he’ll settle for the heartbreak, let his heart mend at its own pace, and think about you. For a little while longer, you’ll be the girl he’s in love with. The girl who made him realizes love is real. The girl who taught him love is cruel. The girl he’s trying to move on from, and one day will, but for now, you’ll be the girl who means everything to him.

“Yeah Lukey, I’ll be okay.”

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 1 year

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(Genshin Impact) Shenhe, Yae, and Lumine with a tsundere reader

The S/O will be gender neutral, but sure thing! Thanks for the ask @unmotivatedpotato , hope you enjoy!

Poor Shenhe's brain has to go through a mental gauntlet trying to decipher what (Y/N) actually means.

They say one thing and act like they hate it, but they actually don't Was this commonplace in human society?

But then again, (Y/N) is pretty direct and far kinder to her in private. Even in public, they didn't seem to beat around the bush.

At the very least, it trains Shenhe how to properly read social cues and pay attention to body language, instead of solely going by words.

But she'd be lying if it wasn't horribly confusing.

(Shenhe) "(Y/N), may I ask you something?"

(Y/N) turned to her and nodded, a gentle expression on their face.

(Y/N) "What is it?"

(Shenhe) "Why do you only say what you mean around me?"

First, silence. Then (Y/N) starts turning red.

(Y/N) "W-What do you mean?"

(Shenhe) "I have noticed you tend to not say what you want around others. Yet when you're with me, you never lie."

(Y/N) "W-Well, I mean...It's cause...I don't want to be mean to...you..."

Shenhe innocently tilts her head.

(Shenhe) "Do you want to be mean to others?"

(Y/N) "NO! No it's not that, I just...Okay let me put it this way. I trust you with my feelings more than I do others. There."

They began pouting, which gave Shenhe all sorts of mixed signals.

(Shenhe) "Have I offended you?"

(Y/N) "No! No you could never!-"

(Y/N) sighed and spoke more softly.

(Y/N) "...I'm sorry. I mean it when I say I trust you, Shenhe. I've...never really been good at telling others what I'm feeling, if it wasn't obvious."

(Shenhe) "I did not mean to pry. I was simply curious."

(Y/N) chuckled, turning to her with a smile.

(Y/N) "Plus, I don't want to confuse you even more."

(Shenhe) "I admit I am but, thank you for trusting me enough with your feelings."

(Y/N) "Y-Yeah."

Shenhe noticed their face was turning more red, but they were smiling. They were also looking at the floor.

Maybe she should ask Cloud Retainer what's with them...

Y/N is in for a horrific time with their tsundere tendencies around Yae.

Their whole relationship can be summed up in a single meme when it comes to (Y/N) not saying what they mean:

Yae has an endless amount of fun teasing (Y/N), always playing a game of how red she can make them.

Until she hears what they mean, she will NOT relent.

(Yae) "What was that, little one? I'm afraid I cannot hear you over the mumbling."

(Y/N) "Gah...! I-I said I wouldn't mind eating dinner with you, tonight."

(Yae) "Was that so hard?"

Yae's day always brightens up whenever she's with (Y/N), something she openly admits to them.

Half because it is the truth, and the other half is of course, watching their reaction.

But when she's completely alone with them, she takes note of how their tsundere tendencies seem to die down. Which is no fun, but at the same time it's touching.

Yae seems to be the only one who knows the softer side of them.

And strangely enough, some her favorite times with them has been when they're completely honest.

She makes sure to tease lightly whenever this happens, since they're letting down their walls. She doesn't want them raised back up.

At least not when it's the two of them.

(Yae) "(Y/N), do come visit more often. It gets quite boring up at the shrine without lovely company."

(Y/N) "I'll be sure to do that, Yae."

(Yae) "..."

(Y/N) "...W-What? Was it something I said?"

(Yae) "It's the lack of words you said...Ahem! Nothing, just thinking to myself is all. Do take care, now."

(Y/N) "You too. Good night."

Yae watched them walk off, but they stopped to turn around and waved goodbye to her.

Now that tickled her heart.

(Yae) "And here I am, touched by the lack of a flustered reaction..."

One word and one picture.

Death.

Lumine and Paimon are absolutely relentless on the teasing, moreso than Yae because the two work together.

(Lumine) "Welp, you heard (Y/N). They don't wanna join us for dinner."

(Paimon) "Such a shame! Paimon's gonna have to eat all this dessert by herself!"

(Y/N) "Ugh, fine! Fine, fine, I'll come."

(Lumine) "Lovely! We'll be glad to have you!"

They two have experience with Eula, (Y/N) is an extremely easy egg to crack.

Lumine loves watching how flustered they get from her flirting, and has Paimon add insult to injury by noting how red they get.

But to make sure (Y/N) doesn't rip their hair out, they know when to ease up.

In her Teapot, Lumine has (Y/N) watch the skies above with her, regaling tales of her and her brother's journeys in the cosmos.

They're listening with such genuine interest, it's hard to tease them for it.

Paimon makes sure to conveniently vanish so the two can share a moment.

Seeing their smile makes Lumine smile as well.

(Lumine) "You're cute when you smile, you know that?"

(Y/N) "H-Hey now, don't tea-"

(Lumine) "No, I mean it. Really."

(Y/N) "You're not teasing...?"

(Lumine) "I'm not. Mostly, anyway."

They let out a small chuckle as they shyly look away.

(Y/N) "Then...t-thanks."

The smile comes back, though they're blushing madly.

Lumine liked this reaction. If she said this in public, she's 90% sure she'd get a projectile Paimon to the cranium.

...Part of her wanted to try it out in public now.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #shenhe x reader #yae miko x reader #lumine x reader #shenhe genshin impact #yae miko #lumine genshin impact

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somehow-a-human · 2 months

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A guide to my insane ramblings about the celestial gays!

THIS IS A REMINDER NOT TO ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

Observational Metas: Read these if you aren't so interested in reading speculation but you'd like to see some interesting things I've noticed, but didn't necessarily come up with an entire meta for.

The Changing Bentley

Filming Tidbits - Lens Filters

Lightbulb Headlight Moment

Bildad's Hair

Deciphering the Angelic Language Pt 1

MiChAeL wHaT iS iN yOuR mOuTh?!!

Whose POV is it Anyway?: There's been a lot of discussion among meta writers in the fandom about this seasons narrator, if the ineffables are reliable narrators, etc, etc. So I decided to look through the lens (haha) of season 2 literally. Can we decipher a narrator based on lens filters applied to the cameras? What might the filters tell us about the story? Follow my journey here!

Whose POV is it Anyway? - an Introduction

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

Absolutely Crack Theories: Ever have a wild idea or explanation pop into your head and you know it's not correct but it's still fun? Well I decided it's still a wonderful exercise in creative writing to stretch my brain muscles and try to coherently write those thoughts out! These are simply for fun, I really don't even believe them myself (maybe little bits of them) but I support my arguments with the literature and with research to give you a compelling read. Think of it like mock debate. Have fun and don't forget your tinfoil hat!

The Bullet Catch and The Final 15

The Ineffables Fell in Love & God and Satan Make a Bet

Crowley is the Current Supreme Archangel

Season 3 Speculation

The Ineffable Timeline Posts: Time has been called into question in season 2. See: A breakdown of the events of season two on Whickber street chronologically, as best as I was able to put them together with timestamps supplied by in universe characters watches, phones, and the bookshop clocks. Contains some speculation about the continuity of certain scenes that may have been reordered. Overall not too speculative of an analysis.

Ineffable Timeline - Monday

Ineffable Timeline - Tuesday

Ineffable Timeline - Wednesday

Ineffable Timeline - Thursday

Ineffable Timeline - Friday

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens theories #good omens theory #good omens clue #good omens parallels

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diana-daphne · 21 days

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15 questions for 15 friends!

Thank you for the tag @jomarch-wannabe !

Are you named after anyone? I’m technically named after a tv character from a teen drama, because for some reason, my mom let my older sister chose my name, but my mom was unaware of her motives until it was too late lol

When was the last time you cried? Yesterday when an old man yelled at me at an estate sale, apparently asking if cash would be ok was a mistake, and I was already having a rough day lol

Do you have kids? No, and I don’t plan on having them! I really like kids, but not that much and I know I’m just not quite cut out for it.

What sports do you play/have you played? I did ballet for exactly 1 year then decided it was too much work, but I still like watching it lol

Do you use sarcasm? Almost To a fault, yes! I get it from my dad but reading Percy Jackson didn’t help.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? It depends, but it’s usually either eyes or voice, I’ve always found different eye colors interesting and I like to think I’m quite good at deciphering peoples tone. (I’m probably not)

What’s your eye color? Grey.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, I try to be a scary movie girl, and I definitely still enjoy some spooky fun, but once it gets to proper horror movie status I chicken out.

Any talents? Drawing (for the most part), though I’ve been neglecting it for a while.

Where were you born? THE GOOD OLD USA BABY!,!!🇺🇸🏈🦅🥧

What are your hobbies? Drawing/painting, watching movies, reading, listening to music and making pretend movies in my head, thrifting

Do you have any pets? A spoiled fluffy cat named sterling but he only responds to kitty.

How tall are you? 5’5.

Favorite subject in school? History!

Dream job? Living in the plaza like Eloise and or being Fran fine, but on a more realistic note, hopefully something to do with film making/theater/entertainment, if you couldn’t tell I’m quite undecided.

No pressure tags! @suncherrytree @thatsthetea0sis @littlemyinvadeshighbury @allthatglittersisusuallyglitter @mhnmmmn @arrant-knav3 @pinkishreveries @nothingtodotonight @kikispongecake @neolando and that’s not 15 but I’m too tired and my brain isn’t working, so who ever wants to join go ahead lol

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plumxwrites · 2 years

Text

in discord & rhyme. // eddie munson.

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader ( couple from hellraiser! )

summary: It wasn't Eddie's idea to get 'sheet faced' on Halloween night, but he let you drag him along knowing it was going to make you happy. Being your best friend since sixth grade had it's perks, and sure, now that you're sophomores things have changed... a lot. You went to the party as friends, but that's not how you ended the night.

word count: 5k

warnings: almost smut, barely foreplay either, dirty talk?, sexy tattoo talk, drinking, lots of kisses, eddie's a sweetie consent king

a/n: hi! :) thanks for being here! this is a little mini from my main series hellraiser. this can be read as a stand alone, but reading hellraiser will help with the minuscule details... i adore this couple with all of my heart, and this party was mentioned in the last two parts i posted, so i decided i had to write it. there's no actual smut because of their age, so, yeah. enjoy if you read, thank you! :)

{ masterlist }

Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry Like the Wolf’ is the next song to play on the giant black speakers in the living room you were crammed into with half of your high school. Rocking your hips side to side, you see Eddie laughing at you from the kitchen he wandered into to refill your cups.

It was your idea to come to this party, to get ‘sheet faced’ on Halloween night, and you’re surprised Eddie let it happen. Originally, you were going to sit in your living room and watch scary movies with tapes from Family Video like you had been doing for the past three years, but then you were passed the orange invitation in one of your classes that morning and it was decided you were going.

He didn’t put up much of a protest, he just asked if that was what you really wanted to spend your night doing- ‘sweating in a house full of people who don’t care about us’. You rephrase his question, telling him it sounded like so much fun to sweat in a house full of people who don’t care about you, and his interest was piqued.

Three drinks deep already, Eddie was keeping a close eye on you knowing you could not hold your alcohol like he could. After you finished the first one your body started to sway to the music playing, the liquid confidence kicking in in an instant. Anyone who looked at you could tell that this was not your scene, but after a couple, everyone just blurred together anyway, so it didn’t matter.

As soon as the song started, Eddie’s head popped up from where he was to look for you. This wasn’t a choice of music either of you would choose, but you blackmailed each other into admitting that this song was really fucking good in a moment of weakness in his van.

Dancing alone, your hands slipped up the sides of your body and into the air. Your eyes were shut as your hips rocked, and once your intoxicated brain deciphered what was playing, you gasped aloud and frantically searched for Eddie. That’s when he laughed, watching you spin around in a circle to look for him in the sea of high schoolers who were no different from you.

The look on his face when you spotted him warmed your insides. Smiling right away, you stretch out your hands and motion for him to come over to you. Leaving the cups behind, Eddie groans to himself, realizing he was going to have to actually dance with you around these people, but then he reminds himself that not a single other person at this party had acknowledged that you guys were there.

“Woman you want me, give me a sign,” You sing, copying the singer's eccentric voice when Eddie reaches your side. Grabbing his hands you try to twist side to side, but he resists. “Come on!” You giggle, bouncing on your toes, your curled hair falling in front of your face. Eddie takes a hand from yours and pushes your hair back, his fingers brushing your forehead gently. You know you're drunk, but you swear they linger there for a little bit longer than they normally would.

“In touch with the ground,” You sing, holding his one hand tighter, lifting it to spin underneath it, “I’m on the hunt I’m after you.”

“Smell like I sound,” Eddie joins in quietly, letting his body start to sway with yours, “I’m lost in a crowd,” You sing together, “And I’m hungry like the wolf.” Looking up at him because he’s always been so damn tall, your smile is like no other, you’re genuinely having a blast. Gripping both of his hands again, you step close to him, then pull away and spin around in his arms so that yours are crossed and his are around you. Taking him by surprise, he catches you as you fall back onto his chest, and he knits his eyebrows together wondering where the hell this came from.

With your back pressed to him he tried his hardest to not let his mind wander down to what else was pressed to him. You were best friends, but the kind of best friends who didn’t even hug each other often, so for you to fall into his arms with your entire body against his- it was overwhelming, but it felt good.

Unraveling out of his grasp, you let go of his hands and danced around him without a care, singing every word. This was when he’d tease you. By now he would’ve tried to trip you, or say something to piss you off, but it was intoxicating for him, watching you move.

“High blood drumming on your skin is so tight,” You're still singing as you dance in front of him, “Come on, Munson, move something!” You laugh, grabbing him by the arms.

Suddenly, Eddie grabs you by the waist, sliding his hands around your back with a grip that wasn’t for a best friend. Tumbling into his body, not knowing where this was going, you look up at him and smile even bigger. It was entirely hilarious, how you felt a little nervous being this close to him, but he was looking down at you differently than before. Almost the same exact way the other night when you were on your roof together, laying down looking up at the night sky. Of course you were blabbing about how annoying your parents were starting to get, but he looked at you then like he was now. Carefully and gently, like you were something incredibly valuable to him. It was all the same, in his eyes, except now within them there lived another intent.

Cutting the bullshit, and throwing away his nerves, Eddie leans forward and presses his forehead on yours, sighing while he watches your smile drop. He hums along to the song to pass a bit of time, waiting to see what you would do next, if, if you were going to do anything at all. Four, almost five, years of friendship existed between you. It was weird to do anything after the move he’s made, but you can’t help but admit that ever since you’ve gotten into high school you’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Then you hit tenth grade, and he let his hair grow past his shoulders, and the attraction poured out of you just like his aura was infectious.

“I’m on the hunt I’m after you,” You still sing, now at a whisper, and as you those words leave your mouth you tap your fingers to his chest down to his belt along to the beat of the lyrics, smiling when you see his shoulders rise a bit with a quick breath.

“Scent and a sound,” Eddie whispers the words after, eyes locking onto yours curiously.

“I’m lost and I’m found,” You grin, sliding your hands along the leather band.

“And I’m hungry like the wolf,” You both sing. Freezing in place, his hands were firmly on your back, but started to slide down slowly making you take the next sharp, quick, breath. Nobody has ever touched you like this before on purpose. Tommy H didn’t have permission last summer when he did it.

Eddie leans into you further, your back bending a little as he pressed your noses together. Both of your lips parted in anticipation, knowing what was coming next, but for some reason he wasn’t doing it.

Bringing your hands up between your bodies, you slide them around his neck and up into his curls where you laced your fingers in.

“Do it,” You whisper, eyes flickering to his lips. Eddie’s do the same to yours, and as if to say ‘fuck it’, he takes a deep breath before holding you tight as he bends you over further to kiss you with everything in his being. An electricity sparks in your heart and ignites every fiber in your body all the way down to the tips of your fingers and toes. His lips are soft, and they know what to do. Giving his hair a little tug to see what he’d do, you swear you feel him smile on your lips. You didn’t know if it was the shitty drinks, or if this party environment had you acting up, but you tried this once with someone else, so you decide to give it a go with Eddie.

Parting your lips, you drag your tongue along his bottom lip and feel his entire body tense up. His hands wrap completely around your waist now, your bodies flush against one another. Slipping you his tongue, you can’t help but make a tiny noise, one that has him nearly jumping away from you. His hands are still on your hips, they seemed to like it there.

Around you the party was still buzzing. Not a single person had even cared to look your way where you were standing in the center of the living room with bodies dancing about around you.

“Think we drank too much,” Eddie mutters, studying your face for a hint of… anything.

“No,” You say, messing with his hair.

“No?” He laughs awkwardly, “You wouldn’t do that voluntarily.”

“I think I would,” You whisper, letting your eyes drag up and down his being for him to see. Neither of you dressed up for this party, that definitely wasn’t going to happen. He stood in front of you in all black, except for his denim vest. Exactly how you liked him.

“Don’t do that to me, y’know, I-“ He cuts himself short as you look up at him with cheeky doe eyes, “What's with you?” He asks quietly, touching his forehead on yours again. Your fingers found his belt again, messing with the buckle.

“Did I ever tell you about this past summer? What I did?” You keep your eyes on him. He shakes his head. “It was the day we went to get your last tattoo,” He nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing, “They had you take your shirt off, and you were laid back, reclined in the chair,” His interest is piqued, wondering where the hell this story’s going to go, “Every couple of minutes you would close your eyes to take a breath, and your eyebrows would crinkle a little bit,” You try to copy the face, making him laugh, “When you did that, you would turn your head to face the ceiling, tilting back juuust a little bit… your neck and bare chest all stretched out with a look on your face I could see straight through. It wasn’t because the tattoo hurt- it was ‘cause you liked it.” Eddie blinks a few times, his face is stone cold, the blood in his body is rushing elsewhere.

“You laid there for an hour, while I watched you sweat out the pleasure you were feeling, tilting your head back, sighing when the needle left your skin, and nearly letting your eyes roll back when it touched you again,” Your words had him going, and you knew you started something you were dying to finish, “That night, that disgustingly amazing, erotic hour you spent in that chair was all I could fucking think about as I slipped my hand into my panties when I got in bed, and I would be a damn liar if I told you that it wasn’t the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Eddie is at a loss for words. His jaw hangs open the slightest bit as he stares at you in disbelief. There’s a jingle, a clanking of metal happening between you. Seeing you smirk, Eddie glances down between your bodies and finds you’ve got his belt undone. Duran Duran is over, it has been for a little while, and the music playing now was unrecognizable- everything was, he had only one thought circling his mind now. The thought of what you’d sound like while he pressed you into his mattress as you took everything he had to give.

“What are you… saying?” Eddie asks carefully, praying your next words are what he wants to hear.

“I think I like you,” You admit, your fingers now messing with the button on his jeans that he catches by gripping both of your hands with one of his.

“Stop trying to undress me,” He laughs, “You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Sticking out your tongue, you giggle and tilt your head to touch it to his neck, dragging it up to under his ear, listening to his breath get caught in his throat.

“Trust me, I still want you when I’m not drunk,” You sigh, pressing a sloppy kiss to his skin, “Tonight just gave me the balls to say it. And don’t lie to me,” You look up at him, “I know you want me too, I see the way you look at me when I change my clothes,” Eddie tries to avoid your eyes, laughing peskily, “You could barely keep it together this summer when we swam, I thought you were going to combust at some point, or run yourself dry with how often you left me for the bathroom,” He widens his eyes as he looks at you, “Seriously, is your arm okay?” You laugh, making him smile as you slide a hand over his right bicep.

“You're chatty when you're drunk,” Eddie says, mentioning again how much you’ve had to drink. Lowering your eyebrows humorously for him, he cracks a laugh and groans. As much as he knows you’re intoxicated, you’ve made it really uncomfortable for him to be in his jeans right now.

“Tell me the truth,” You say, touching the tip of your nose on his, “Pretty sure I already felt it,” Your eyes narrow as they gaze into his, “And I’m telling you, I’m not that drunk.” Eddie takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” He says, “Okay? Yeah, you get to me in a way I can’t explain.” You grin wickedly, hanging on the end of every word.

“Tell me,” You whisper, “Please.”

“Fuck,” He mutters, closing his eyes for a moment, “I just… Have the urge to touch you, all the time, and, and, I wanna kiss you, everywhere, and I mean… everywhere.” Reaching for one of his hands, you squeeze it and move it up on your waist.

“Then touch me,” You say, “Keep going.” Nodding your head, you kiss his cheek.

“I… Jesus, I don’t know when…” He pauses, “That’s a lie,” He chuckles, a memory popping into his mind, “We were by Lovers Lake, at Rick’s, you remember Ricks?” You nod, giving him a small smile, “We were walking out there, smoking his weed I’m pretty sure, and we wanted to swim.”

“We stripped down to our underwear,” You add, the memory coming back to you.

“Yeah we did,” Eddie’s tone drastically changed, and you finally think he’s talking himself into this, “You had a black bra, matching panties, think there was a little… lace thing on ‘em. That was the first time I ever thought about what it would feel like.” Raising an eyebrow, you question him.

“What… what would feel like?” You ask quietly.

“Being inside you,” He whispers like it’s a well kept secret, or he’s afraid of what you may say, but with how his eyes are now eating you up you cannot deny that that’s exactly what you want and have wanted. Biting your bottom lip you smile.

“Then tell me what we’re waiting for,” You whisper back, wiggling your brows

Breaking his gaze from yours, Eddie snaps back into reality around him. The room is now filled shoulder to shoulder with kids from school too drunk to even comprehend their surroundings. He thinks he spots Steve Harrington in the kitchen with Nancy Wheeler, no surprise they’d be here, and decides it’d be a good time to split. With the way your lips grazed the skin on his neck again, and the possibility either of you would get caught up in Harrington drama, he knew it was time to go.

Taking you by the waist, he pushes you ahead of him, keeping a tight grip on your hips as he weaved you through the masses in this living room. Doing his best to get you both out of the party safely, he tries to ignore the way your ass would bump the crotch of his jeans with every little stumble in the crowd.

“You happy to see me?” You giggle, lolling your head back on his chest as you walk, and Eddie simply smiles and shakes his head at your incoherence. He should’ve known no matter what, whatever lines the two of you cross you were still going to absolutely bullshit him. Looking up at him upside down, you smile and bite your lip.

“Keep goin’,” He laughs with a sigh, nudging you forward with his hips. You fight against it, trying to turn around in his hold.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You say.

“No, no, no,” His laugh is exasperated at this point, unable to keep you pointed toward the door. You’ve spun around expertly fast, grabbing his cheeks to give them a squeeze.

“Yes, yes, yes, Eddie,” You say, and press your open lips to his with a vengeance. Feeling his tongue prod the inside of your cheek, you pull away with a whine, one that has his eyes going wild.

“Don’t tempt me woman, I’ll have you right here in front of all these people,” His voice is nearly a growl, one that heightens the heat between your legs, “Walk out of this door. Right now.” Standing up straight, you smirk, then kiss his lips slowly, pulling away with a smack.

“Let’s go,” You flash him an innocent smile, and turn around, reaching back for his hands. Finding one, you glance over your shoulder for the other and let out a tiny yelp as it smacks the denim that covers the round of your ass before tangling with your fingers. He thought it was cute how you thought you were running the show.

Opening the front door together, you both tumble out in giggles, latching back onto one another once you’re on the grass. Eddie gently pinches your waist making you squirm, laughing with you as you try to get him back and pull his undone belt out of the loops on his jeans. He grabs you by the elbow, snatching your hand away, then pulls you into his side, trailing a hand down your back, letting it slide into the pocket on the back of your jeans. Resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes stay on his the entire quiet walk back to his home. Eddie led the way there, glancing down at you every so often wondering what the hell was even happening.

Last week you two were seeing who could spit the furthest in the senior parking lot, and now he had your ass in his hand, walking to his trailer where you guys were literally planning on fucking. That wasn’t even a word he wanted to use with you, it seemed too vulgar. You were worth more to him than just a fuck, that’s not what this was, this was… something else. Something was coming of this, something he’s been wanting for a long time.

Turning on the dirt road of his little neighborhood, you pick up your head and spot his trailer, looking back up at him with excitement in your eyes. Reaching for his hand, you start to lead him toward it, Eddie letting you tug him behind you.

It was entirely too sweet, and utterly insane watching you do this to him. Even in his right mind he couldn’t believe that this was actually going to happen. You passed by two of his neighbors that liked to smoke on the bench on the corner of the street, neither of you giving them any of your attention. Once that door was in sight, you were on a mission.

Running up the couple of stairs on the front of the trailer, Eddie finally stops you, pressing his other hand on one of your shoulders. Glancing at him, he presses a finger to his lips to tell you to keep quiet to which you nod. He steps around you, pulling open the screen, then reaches into his pocket for a key that he uses to unlock the top and bottom locks on the white door.

Pushing it open, he guides you inside and it’s completely silent, even sounds from outside have gone quiet. Turning on a lamp, Eddie motions for you to wait where you were standing, pointing at the ground with a raised eyebrow, knowing you liked to wander when you’ve been drinking. Rolling your eyes, you laugh quietly and nod really fast. He pulls a quick smile, then moves on to peek around every corner of the place.

“Wayne-y boy?” He calls out, making you giggle. He pushes open Wayne’s bedroom door and peeks in, “Uncle Wayne?” He asks, “Hey! You here?” He nearly shouts, coming back into the living room where you waited patiently for him with your hands knotted together across your stomach. He looks at you with a hunger as he waits for an inconspicuous Uncle to answer him, but there isn’t a response of any kind.

“I don’t think he’s here,” You say quietly, stepping toward him. Having sobered up some on the walk here, you can feel a comfortable nervousness settling in your chest, one that’s enough to fuel the excitement and not the sheer panic of realizing what was going on. Eddie takes a breath as you step in front of him, his hands ghosting your waist, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you now. “C’mon, Eddie,” You whisper, “Don’t clam up on me now.”

“N-not… Not that,” He copies your tone, “I just want to make sure you really want this.”

“I do,” You reassure him, bringing your hands to him, guiding them to touch you, “I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more.” Eddie sighs and squeezes your hips, pulling you against him. Tossing your arms around his shoulders you smile, humming as you lean in to kiss his cheek. Then you kiss his cheek again, and slower, and closer to his lips.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, waiting for the moment your lips meet his, confirmation that this was happening in the still, quiet, calmness of the trailer. Studying his face, you smile to yourself and know he’s waiting for you to kiss him, so you do your best to avoid it, kissing everywhere else. The tip of his nose, his cupid's bow, underneath his right eye, beneath his left ear, no inch of skin went untouched.

“Would you just-”

“Huh?” You question his abrupt stop, brushing your nose against his. Eddie opens his eyes, the deep brown beautiful eyes that shifted darker as he looked down at you. His hands were roaming the hills and valleys of your curves, his breath heavy and slow with arousal.

“Kiss me, fuck,” He grumbles, locking lips with you for the first time in his home. His hands slide up your back and hold the back of your head, keeping you where he wants you, and the kiss packs so much heat he has you whining in the middle of his dimly lit living room.

“Eddie,” You say quickly in the millisecond your lips are parted. He hums as if to ask you ‘what’, and nibbles on your bottom lip making you whine again. “Eddie, p… please,” You whisper, and now it’s his turn to kiss down your neck, finding a sweet spot right at the base, between your collar bone.

“Mm,” He groans, “Ask me again.” A tinge of nerves rolls over you, but they’re wiped away as his tongue starts to swirl over the spot his lips had started to make.

“Please, Eddie,” You moan, and you swear his knees go weak. His arms tighten around you, and his feet start to stumble down the hall for his bedroom with you latched to his front. Pressing your lips to his, you throw off his path and the two of you bump into the wall, stopping there for a couple of seconds to get lost in the kiss.

With your back against the wall, Eddie sighs between shared air and slides a hand down your side, grips your hip, then slips it between your thighs applying the softest pressure. It was enough to send a chill down your spine, tiny bouts of pleasure erupting within you, and you needed him to do it again. Eyes closed, lips parted, you grind your hips on his hand that was about to come back up to your side, until he felt you.

He watches you, studies you, and he does it again, pressing a little harder than before, and he smiles in awe when the first sound of actual euphoria comes out of you. Messing with you over the denim wasn’t enough, you needed to feel his fingers on your body. Fluttering your eyes open, the shock written on his face makes you smile, but only for a second.

You move with caution, with regard for the boundary currently being crushed, watching him like you’re waiting for him to pull away, for him to crack. Reaching for his hand, you place it on your stomach to guide it lower, slipping it beneath the waist of your jeans. The new silver rings he started wearing at the beginning of this year touch your skin, and they’re freezing, making you suck in a quick breath. Eddie freezes, looking at you in a panic. His eyes had started to wander between your bodies.

“Cold,” You whisper, nearly inaudible, and you see his nerves dissipate with a sly smile.

“Sorry,” He whispers back, both of you sharing a smile now, “This okay?” He asks, his eyes going soft as he waits for you to answer. Wrapping both arms around his neck again, you nod and touch your forehead to his, closing your eyes. Your lips almost barely touch as you whisper another please, making Eddie gulp. His fingers adorned with chunky silver rings slip between your thighs, beneath your panties, and you can tell he’s being hesitant.

“Eddie,” You say, brushing your lips on his cheek, and he sighs.

“Sorry,” He whispers, repeating himself, and you laugh.

“Don’t be sorry,” Your voice is hushed as you play with his hair, “I need you to know that this is okay, unless… unless you want to stop,” You say, and you swear he could’ve leapt five feet away from you, his eyes going crazy.

“You’re insane for thinking I would want to stop,” He exhales heavily, eyes dancing around your expression that’s clearly telling him that you need him, “I just want to get it right,” His voice falls to something beneath a whisper, something that makes you blush, “You’re so pretty,” Falls from his lips effortlessly. Tugging on his curls a little bit, you kiss his nose and take a breath.

“So are you,” You smile, then reach for both of his hands, pulling the one out of your pants, “Let’s go,” Is said as you tug him into the open door of his bedroom, and you and Eddie fall onto his mattress in a tangle of limbs and a mess of filthy kisses.

Tight brown curls hang over your eyes where Eddie has his forehead pressed to yours. That was definitely going to become a thing, it was incredibly intimate. The room is warm, and everything seems blurry, even a little bit sweaty. A euphoric wave is pulsing in your veins as you gaze up into the loving brown eyes that are looking down at you in just as much pleasure. Your lips are parted, both of you sucking in deep breaths like you’ve been running for miles.

Eddie has an arm around your back, holding onto your bare body tight while his other is gripping your hand beside where your bodies lay. Clinging to his back for the past fifteen minutes, you finally relax and realize you’d been digging your nails into his skin.

“Think I scratched you,” You whisper, widening your eyes a bit, and Eddie copies you.

“Yeah, think you did,” He says sarcastically, then smiles and kisses you softly, “I don’t care,” He assures you, kissing your cheek. Rubbing your hand on his back, you lower your brows.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask innocently, and Eddie laughs, shifting over your body to prop himself over you on his elbows. Your noses are pressed together as he narrows his eyes. With him naked above you like this, you subconsciously let your fingers curiously explore his smooth skin.

“I’ve sat through five tattoo’s,” He says, “And have a fantasy of you hurting me more than all of those sessions combined,” You widen your eyes again, “So, no. You didn’t hurt me, princess.” You tilt your head, smiling.

“Princess?” You question. Eddie smirks, slowly.

“Yeah,” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you twice, “Princess.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #nervous #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson smut #joe quinn #scared to psot #stranger things cast #joseph quinn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you

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logically-asexual · 1 year

Text

I’ll do it if i have to

summary:

i was just thinking about Logan aware that all his methods to be heard have failed so he decides to try what other sides do by shapeshifting into Virgil.

warnings: logan angst, cursing, yelling, arguments.

Read on AO3

word count: 1,234

“Thomas, you better clean this fucking place right now or else!”

Thomas scrambled to follow the order after Virgil’s thunderous voice sparked him into action. Without hesitation he ran to get his cleaning supplies to put his living room and kitchen back in order.

Seeing his job was done, and not wanting to stay long enough to be discovered, Logan sank out and rose up in his room. He shapeshifted back to his usual appearance as he paced around the bedroom. There was a bubbling sensation in his chest, which rose up and down with his accelerated breathing. He couldn’t believe it had worked! He couldn’t remember the last time Thomas immediately carried out an instruction by Logan. It was… gratifying.

Logan tried to steady his breathing and his shaking legs as he walked towards his bookshelf. He grabbed a notebook with notes on Thomas’s responses to different methods to get his attention. So far all of Logan’s ideas had failed at eliciting a positive response, since either Thomas quickly rejected him or he nodded along to his proposition and then proceeded without following it. This time, though, he had something that had worked.

Thomas always listened to Virgil, especially when he intimidated Thomas into doing what he wanted. However Logan couldn’t intimidate Thomas like that; Logan shouldn’t damage his reputation with such a display of lacking composure. Logan had also observed that Thomas almost listened to Janus when he first disguised as another Side, which he did because his argument would be received better if it came from someone else, the purpose of lying disguised as concern for his friends instead of self-preservation. Considering these two successes by his fellow Sides, Logan had concluded that he could try disguising as Virgil to get Thomas to at least do one thing.

It worked. He wrote it down. It had finally worked.

He closed the notebook just before he perceived the presence of another Side in his room. He turned to find Deceit standing by his window.

“Logan, Logan, Logan…” Janus shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What do you want, Deceit?”

“Oh, nothing. I just think it’s really interesting how you’re coping with your little issues through purely honest ways, as that is something you highly value.”

Logan struggled to decipher what the lying Side was trying to say. He couldn’t see the point of speaking in such a confusing way when the goal of communication was for one party to send a message and the other to receive it. “Janus…” He began before being interrupted.

“I guess I never took you as a performer, but I can’t deny you made quite an impression with your little show.”

So he knew. Of course he did. Logan didn’t have time to explain himself as Anxiety barged into his room.

Virgil pushed past Logic, pointing a finger at Janus as he exclaimed, “You stupid asshole, what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

“I do lots of things, Virgil, you’ll have to be more specific,” answered Janus with a condescending tone.

“How dare you? Was it some kind of attempt at insulting me? Making fun of me in front of Thomas? If so, why are you here now? What was the goal? I seriously never understand what’s going on in those scaly brains of yours!”

Janus didn’t seem faced at Virgil’s questioning. He stood tall and let him finish before speaking. “I have the suspicion,” he narrowed his eyes, “that you’re accusing me of something…”

“Oh my god!” Virgil cried. “Just tell me why you did it, like what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Virgil,” Logan interceded, but he couldn’t continue as Janus began raising his voice, too.

“What is wrong with me? Excuse me, what is wrong with you?! You’re the one who thinks you can storm into another Side’s room unannounced and yell at me as if I murdered your family or something?”

“You know what you did, stop acting stupid!”

“Guys!” Logan insisted.

“Why, do I have to be the one to blame for every single inconvenience in your life? Do I have nothing better to do than to go about my day looking for ways to ruin yours?”

Before Virgil could answer Logan hurried to speak. “Virgil, it was me.”

Virgil finally turned to him.

“I really needed Thomas to clean the house and he would only do that if you were the one telling him.”

Virgil stared at him for a second, blinking slowly. Then, he turned back to Janus. “Did you make him do this?”

“Oh so we’re back to blaming me for everything, wonderful!”

“You had to have something to do with this, Logan is too honest to go through with something like this by himself—“

“Honey, if you think that anyone in this mindscape is honest I have big news for you—“

They both began speaking over each other, his voices only getting louder and their insults more hurtful. Logan just stood there. He would normally simply leave in a situation like this, but they were all in his room, he had nowhere else to go. The unintelligible yelling in addition to a high pitched buzzing in his own head began hurting his ears and his brain.

“Okay that’s enough!” His voice cracked, but the decibels were enough to make the argument stop and to draw to him the attention of the two Sides in front of him. “If… If I wanted to stand around being ignored, I would have shown up in person like I usually do.”

That sounded familiar.

Virgil had said that to the others when they went to his room after he ducked out. It was until hearing this that Virgil understood what was happening. Logan was… copying him? Or instead, Logic was attempting to express himself through Anxiety’s intimidating methods. He must have figured that that would get him to be heard.

Virgil turned to Janus, whose expression showed genuine concern for the logical Side. Janus knew Logan wanted to hide behind a mask, and he had tried different masks on over the years, looking for one that would make him appear worthy of respect and consideration. He hadn’t tried using another Side as a mask until now, though, but it made sense to Janus that it could happen eventually.

As both Dark Sides made eye contact, they found recognition in each other’s gazes. They knew the problem. They were familiar with it after all, neither of them had it easy in their attempts to convince Thomas of something, at least not at the beginning.

“Logan, you don’t have to—“ Virgil started.

“No, don’t—“ Logan struggled to keep his speech clear and steady, “don’t take this away from me. Please.” He clutched the notebook in his hands closer to his chest, as if protecting it.

Logan was in trouble. Once something clicked in his head it was hard to get rid of that logic. Convincing him of unlearning something he had just proved to work would be practically impossible.

Virgil and Janus knew that. Neither of them knew how to solve this. Neither of them wanted to be in the same room as the other any longer. But Logan was standing there, physically shaking but mentally firm inside a shell that he could never break on his own. If they didn’t help him, then who would?

#here it is as a fanfic #i need attention #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts #lunas writing #i'll do it if i have to #logan angst

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mxlktxa · 1 year

Text

The Dressing Room

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

❥ pairing; ellie x giselle (original female character)

❥ summary; giselle always had a thing for ellie but refused to ever admit that to anyone. not even joel, if he were still around. giessle could always read people like a book, clear as day, however, those feelings giselle tried so hard to keep concealed were soon outed to ellie sooner rather than later.

❥ author note; i genuinely have no clue what im doing and am terrified of feed back but here we go 🙃

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

I witnessed from afar as Dina and Ellie argued. It was upsetting to see those two fight, they seemed like the perfect couple too. But… To be fair, Dina had been hiding that she was pregnant from us for a bit now. But that didn’t give Ellie a right to label her a burden, an obstacle.

I sighed, heading upstairs in the theatre, flashlight in hand, and in towards the back, finding a communication room. It was filled with plenty of marked up maps, notes and well more maps, honestly.

“Well, damn. Who the hell was in here before us? And how do we get the power back on?” I looked to the maps, trying to decipher if they were checkpoints for other groups or just places people wanted to search for supplies, seek some shelter even.

My thinking ceased as I could hear huffing and nearly silent footsteps coming towards the room. It was Ellie, I didn’t even need to think more or see her to comfirm it.

“You’re both in the wrong, you know. Just, my opinion.”

Ellie scoffed behind me, joining me at the table. I glanced over to her, searching her face for an expression. The intimidating, yet soft, girl beside me just shook her head, clenching her fists.

“I fucking know. I just wished she had said something earlier. I don’t need her risking her and… Her baby’s life.”

“Yes, true. But… It wasn’t necessary to call her a burden. We just need to keep her indoors and safe. And you also hid something from us.”

“Yeah, so fucking what, Giselle? Whoopty-doo, I breathe fucking spores. What about you? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing important and don’t get worked up with me. I didn’t piss you off.”

Ellie and I stared each other deep in the eyes. I couldn’t help but notice her gentle, caring eyes running from between both my eyes and to my lips. I chuckled at her, using my hand as a blindfold on her

“You’re so obvious, Ms. Williams.”

“Oh, shut the hell up. Ms. Anderson.”

A laugh left both our throats, almost harmonizing in a way. My palm left her face, admiring the smile she set up on those pretty lips of hers.

“What’s the ‘nothing important’ that you’re hiding?”

“Why must you uncover that secret? What if it hurts you? Or Dina? Or even if there isn’t an us, what if it hurts us?”

“But what if it creates an us?” Ellie seemed so vulnerable at this point. Like she was dying to put her hands all over me. In the back of my mind, I kept the fact that her and Dina were probably soon to be a thing. I couldn’t ruin something like that. Especially since the poor girl is pregnant and we don’t need her stressing.

“Ellie… Ellie, it’s nothing. Besides it seems Dina likes you,” I pushed myself away, leaving the room with my flashlight and opening a door nearby, finding that it was a dressing room. Like a child in a marvelous castle built of strictly sweets, I gasped and ran to the dressing rack, running my hands across the material.

“El! Look! Oh, my God, this is so fun! Dresses from the roaring twenties. Ugh, they’re so cute.”

“I think they’re really damn hideous, but go off.”

“Excuse me? Disgusting? You, Ellie ‘Little Shit’ Williams, have terrible taste.”

“Oh, yeah? Change my mind then. Sell me on the dress, Giselle ‘Terrible Taste In Men’ Anderson.”

My eyebrow raised, my brain immediately thinking to strip down and slip into the clothing to prove it was cute. But also just to fuck with Ellie a tad. So I placed my light on one of the desks, shrugging at her.

“Fine. I will,” with that I took my backpack off, tossing it to Ellie. She caught it with a little huff, closing the door to the dressing room, leaning on it to watch me.

First, I crossed my arms at my hips, lifting my shirt over my head, stopping just before I exposed my bra to her. Ellie shrugged, her way of telling me to proceed with the show. I tossed the article of clothing to the side and now unbuckling my pants.

“Do you have a color request?”

“No. Nothing specific, do what you want. Might wanna take off your shoes before your pants by the way.”

My eyes shot down to my canvas shoes, giggling before bending down to untie and kick the shoes off. Ellie gave a sarcastic thumbs up now gesturing I remove my pants. I rolled my eyes at the girl doing as she wished.

In my head, this all seemed so fake. Like a dream or something but Ellie was much more intimidating in my head. Always so goddamn serious. Plus, I was just about to have a heart attack not too long ago from all those infected chasing us down and seeing Ellie snort up millions of spores. Half of me hoped this wasn’t a dream but the other half did, I didn’t wanna disrespect Dina like this.

“And here I thought the rumors were true.”

Ellie snapped me from my thoughts, raising a brow in question to the rumor about me. There were plenty and I may have heard them all but why would Ellie say something like that now?

“Oh? And which of my many rumors are you referring to?”

“That you always go commando.

“What the fuck? Who the hell started that? I would never go commando, that’s icky.”

“Well, seeing as you’ve pissed off plently of men by simply rejecting them, I don’t know.”

“And why would you believe them?”

“It would be the only rumor I believed in. The others are so painfully obvious that they were told just because their ego got hurt.”

“Hm… Fair enough. Now help me choose a color of the dresses.”

Ellie’s face lit up so birghtly yet also seemed sinister. Her own bag hit the floor, her steps telling me that she was excited to even be close to me while in my undergarments. We both pulled out dresses, disagreeing on a few and setting some aside as a maybe.

“Hey, pink or white?”

In either hand was an eggshell white flapper dress, the sequins dangling and sparkling. Of course, in my imagination they sparkled but not so much in the real world. It came with a shawl and gloves that would reach far past my elbows. It was also shorter than the pink, for sure. The pink was too far of a dark shade and some gloves that went just barely under my elbows. The shawl with it didn’t even match. Gross. I hummed, closing a bit of distance between us and taking a minute to review the dresses a little more.

“Oh, this is hard. This pink isn’t my favorite and the gloves are too long. The white one though… The dress is shorter and everything is looking pretty good.

“So… White?”

“Yes, Ellie. White.”

The not-so-frightening woman let the pink dress drop to the ground, tugging at my hips to throw the shawl and gloves at me and unzip the dress. Rolling my eyes, I let the items drop by our feet.

“Somebody is a little too excited to dress me up.”

“Just shut the fuck up and come here. All you do is talk, talk, talk.”

“I’ll have you know, people enjoy my conversations.”

“I bet they do.”

“Jesse does. And Maria.”

“You forgot three people.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“The full list, from bottom to top is Jesse, Tommy, Maria, me, Joel. Meaning you forgot, Tommy, me and Joel,” Ellie spoke with a playful tone, allowing me to bring up Joel in this moment. I blew a raspberry at the carefree woman in front of me.

“Joel secretly hated me, I know it.”

“Wrong. He would come and complain to me when you were upset with him. Kept saying that he missed walking into the living room and seeing you sleeping on the couch when he went to make his coffee.”

“Really? He always fussed about me sleeping on the couch.”

“He had a guest room, dummy. That’s why.”

“Well… No, I thought it would be too much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Always refusing to ‘intrude’.”

I pinched Ellie’s nose before she kneeled down to let me step into the dress. I bent over to hold onto her shoulders, letting her pull the dress up. My arms slipped through the spaghetti straps nicely, Ellie picked the shawl from the ground and throwing it over me, allowing it to rest on my shoulders. She even took the opportunity to slip the gloves on to me, giggling like a fool.

“And that’s everything. Take a look,” she whispered, spinning me to the mirror, zipping up the dress quickly.

I squealed softly, rushing to the mirrors and creating various poses. Blowing kisses, acting surprised, pouting, all the fun stuff. In the back, Ellie was spotted, grinning at my little performance.

“Should I show Dina? Or is she asleep?”

“She’s knocked out. She was really upset so… Yeah. I wished you could show her, she would love it. Joel would too.”

“Right? I could see him now doing a mixture of both mocking me but also taking plenty of pictures and telling everyone about it.”

Ellie and I both ended up laughing for a bit, saying things that we both know Joel would say. I even got her to dance around with me even if she did complain about the lack of music. She even took pictures of me to place in Joel’s home after all this was done with.

We settled down after a few minutes, me back in a t-shirt and my underwear, sitting on the floor with Ellie beside me.

“We should figure out how to get the power back on. But I don’t even wanna get up right now,” Ellie was now leaning against me so she could hide her face.

“Well… We kinda need the power so I can try and get some information off those maps and see if anyones soeaking on the channels. Unless you wanna spend a few weeks here then go ahead and leave the power alone.”

Ellie sat up turning to face me. We held eye contact again, her eyes so obviously searching my face for something. I couldn’t help but stare at her slightly parted lips, rolling my eyes.

“God, damm it, Ellie.”

“What? What did I do?”

“I hate you,” with that, I threw myself at Ellie, our lips locking and her hands cupping my face while mine were glued to her hips. Ellie was gentle, yet somehow still rough but I could care less.

“Is this the ‘nothing important’ you were hiding?”

“Obvi, dickhead.”

“Oh? I didn’t know Giselle Anderson was one to swear.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying.”

Ellie ran her hands down to my waist with a chuckle, slowly pushing me down to lie on the floor and returning her mouth to mine. My fingers slithered through her hair, tugging every now and again undoing her mini bun so all her hair was down.

One of her legs ended up between mine, a hand running up my thigh as well, Ellie seemed to now lean more towards rough than gentle, her other hand resting around my neck. I smiled into the kiss, pushing her off and crawling on top of her with no other sexual intentions.

“What?”

“Go figure out how to turn on the power, you ass hat.”

“Come with me. Please,” Ellie gave me puppy eyes, lightly pouting and moving her hands finding my waist. I hummed, looking away, the little shit taking the opportunity to pull herself up a bit and put her lips on my neck.

“Fine, fine, fine. But… Only if you let me take the dress back.”

“Jesus, fucki-… Fine. Now let’s go before we end up doing something we don’t need to do right now.”

“Agreed. Because you smell and I’m tired of you.”

“I smell?”

“I’m just fucking with you. Let me put my pants on and let’s go.”

Ellie chuckled, rolling from under me to stand herself up and walk over to our bags, waiting for me.

Maybe I can keep this on the low, hide it from Dina and everyone else. It’s all up to Ellie, honestly.

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bunny584 · 2 days

Note

I started writing this long reflection about media analysis, JJK and the impact of it and this entire fandom and your story but it'll work better once H&H is complete and I can make it less ramble-y and coherent. (oh look I'm rambling again just like the now-saved draft)

Instead, let's just dip into the moments that left the biggest impact because I barely held it together.

The P word and I gasped. Thankfully no one was standing near me on the train platform.

“You’re always to my left, Suguru.”

Now I want to go back and see if that's always the case?

But Satoru has revoked Suguru’s access to his voice and mind space. He’s retreated to the steel entrapment in his head. Leaving Suguru to fend for himself.

The mystique over his "really good eyesight" and their silent communication is so delectable. And then this happened, I can feel it.

Suguru can read any page in any person’s book, no matter the language. But he can’t seem to decipher her expression.

I loved the moments of accuracy during the active trauma. But this felt the most writing from what you know and your training as a physician. (and the chuckle from the doctor over the phone later, poor boy was too stormy to catch that but a doctor would NEVER do that if it was bad news!)

The joy of Fatherhood, given and taken from him in a night.

I have not experienced this type of loss, but I know people who have. And that type of grief is so intense. You didn't overstate or linger on it too long to undercut the feelings and space.

Will they survive this?

I know they will because you've said as much. But that didn't make this any less impactful. The journey and all....

He fantasizes about your precious love child.

Of all this chapter held, this moment was the proverbial straw. Especially with the dream of a girl. And the precious love of dads and their daughters. And now I am going to lose it again, just thinking of my husband and how he would've felt. (he also would've chosen me over the fetus like The Boys).

Satoru fails to swallow a gasp, and the cords tethering Suguru’s brain to rational logic snap in half.

A deft touch here, appropriately use of the intense emptions of sex and touch. I hope it is not their last (not that we need visceral descriptions of it, you've had great pacing without needing to keep reminding us of time passage)

His addiction to being needed is one he’ll never recover from.

Oh Sugu, your doting and motherhen-ing is adorable and I can't get enough of it.

I just want to like, ramble on and on and on. Wine, snacks, and a big comfy couch.

Jen my little angel 🤍🩷. I love when you do this to me with your juicy analysis and questions that make me think.

Long Author POV below:

1. The P-word. This was left field but of course she’d be. The boys have been filling her reckless. And part of me feels like their bodies knew. The way they doted on her in the fluff flash back, both kneeling to put her shoes on. They’re like dogs who sense their human is pregnant. Now though, with the loss. They’re going to be INTENTIONALLY trying to make another one. Even more desperate when reader pushes them away for a bit.

2. A reader actually made a comment on AO3 that they can’t wait to see the boys communicate more. Because it’s true, I’ve written them so in sync I leave a lot of their dialogue to the reader’s imagination. It was fun to force them to try and figure out how to verbalize things when they’re off step with each other.

3. Suguru being unable to read the doctor’s expression. *sigh* gonna get emotional here. They try to teach us divine neutrality in med school and residency. Delivering bad news while being empathetic but distant. You should be able to call time of death one minute, then walk into the next room and give another patient your 150%. I struggle with this. Elia struggled with this. I hope I did it justice with how it’s written

4. Girl Dad Suguru 🥹 I struggled writing his and Satoru’s reactions. I just wanted to explore the complexities of yes they love reader, yes they want more of her, but ultimately reader, NOT baby, is their priority. Full stop.

5. Satosugu soft sex. I hope this didn’t feel TOO out of place. Mostly because grief is MESSY. It does things to short circuit brains. And sometimes it makes you want to make love with someone to feel in control and warm and intimate. They both were crying and confused through it. And Suguru was so desperate to feel close to Satoru again. Satoru didn’t verbalize it but his “I’m so lonely” and “no, stay” was my way of hinting at that.

#bunnyblabs #H&H #Chapter 15/MTP

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jellyluchi · 10 months

Text

Subtlety

A/N: Just a little fic because I haven't written Prosciutto x Focaccia in a hot minute!

Pairing: Prosciutto x Focaccia Genre: NSFW. Content warnings: clothed sex, cowgirl, piv sex Summary: Prosciutto comes home to finds his wife reading and wants to initiate some play time.

In the wake of his arrival home, Prosciutto is not surprised to find a quiet solitude residing within the walls. It’s just as he had left it that morning. During most of these trips that keeps him away from home he’s more enthusiastic about his return than about his departure. This yearning could only be attributed to one presence that has dominated his home for quite some time; the presence he must seek for right away. Usually, she would be greeting him at the door but it has come to his attention that something has been keeping her occupied as of late.

Discarding his jacket on the way, he makes for the bedroom where he’s most likely to find his wife. If not there, surely the kitchen would be his first guess. But noticing the dead lights above the small space he knows that’s deserted. That does not, however, deem the kitchen completely useless. Seeing a small trail of cookie crumbs leading from the doorway to the hall is the final hint he needs.

Smirking to himself and nearly snickering with delight, Prosciutto rolls his sleeves as if preparing to greet the love of his life for the first time; a sentiment he carries whenever he has to be away from her for long. Approaching the room in question, he inches closer to the doorknob intending to open it right away, only to be stopped by a particular sound.

“It’s so close… oh so close!” A desperate voice rings from inside the enclosed door, shielding him from seeing whatever happens inside. The only clue remains the dim light illuminating from the space between the entrance and the floor. Prosciutto’s eyes widen and he feels a sharp, electric shock course through his nerves. What is Focaccia doing?

Should he leave? Should he stay and listen? Would he be interrupting her…? Yet his feet feel planted deep within the ground, an unnatural force keeping him in place. He must continue listening.

“Ohhhh yeah…. Ahhh…” Attuned to the sound of his wife’s voice, Prosciutto could not mistake those noises if he wanted to. A deep blush adorns his cheeks as his brain naturally conjures images that contextualize what he hears: Focaccia with her legs spread, fingers deep within herself, thinking, wishing it were him instead. It makes his heart pound, the sound ringing in his ears as Prosciutto stifles a groan, trying to focus his lidded eyes. With a hand on the wall to steady himself, he listens for more.

How pathetic,he thinks, listening to his own wife pleasure herself while he stands getting blue balled. Would it be too much to disturb her… Is she having fun without him… Can he join in? He would more than make up for his interruption with his mouth if he has to… Deciding to brave his self-doubt, he knocks the door a few times.

“Honey?” Her sweet voice carries through the heavy wood.

“May I come in?” He asks, looking down at himself to make sure there are no hints of an erection to conceal.

“Of course, you’re back already?”

At her affirmation, Prosciutto pushes the entrance open, finding his wife in bed with a book.

“How was the trip? Did you finish all your business?” She asks, rather cheerfully.

“Yes…” He gives her a puzzled look that she barely notices, going back to her reading within moments.

“That’s great, baby. There’s dinner in the fridge if you’d still like it, I know it’s not time just yet…” But the words are muffled as he tries to decipher what he heard.

“What are you doing, my love?” Prosciutto inquires, deciding to be direct.

“I was just reading this novel,” Focaccia says, showing him the cover before returning to whatever story that has her captivated.

“Ah…” The conversation isn’t fruitful and he disappointedly does not get to wet his dick like he’d hoped. Sighing at his own foolishness, Prosciutto thinks of the dinner in the fridge, prepared with love by his wife and how much it needs to be in his belly. Leaving the door open, he nearly makes it out of the hallway before he hears the noise again.

“Fuck yeah…”

Prosciutto cannot simply be hearing things. Either his wife his hiding a dildo under the covers and fucking herself in secret or he needs release desperately. Thinking to spy on her, he watches from his spot through the small opening of the doorway where she still sits, the act of intruding on her privacy keenly awakening his senses. But she makes no move under the duvet, not even her arm jerking in suspicious motions.

Focaccia coos at her book, gazing at the words intensely. The entire afternoon she spent reading in bed was worth it. The stories are always so sensual and arousing it makes her look forward to the next time she would sleep with her husband. But with his preoccupation towards work, she’s left to fantasize on her own and aid her imaginings with silly romance novellas. Yet, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him for a tryst after he’s had dinner, she thinks.

With disbelieving eyes, Prosciutto watches his wife read, the noises still leaving her lips every now and then. She’s not even touching herself, he thinks; only to realize… he ought to do it for her then. The yearning in his blood runs hot enough to make him devour her instead; He’s not sure what holds him back. Forfeiting the thought of dinner altogether, Prosciutto undoes the ascot and returns to his bedroom, not hesitating to sit right beside his beloved. She barely seems to register his presence before his arms find her waist and his lips discover her shoulder.

“Oh!” She yelps, putting away her reading immediately, and he satisfies himself with the thought of finally having her attention. Prosciutto does not yield himself from the images that haunt his mind anymore, of Focaccia panting beneath him and of her flesh squeezed deliciously against his body. His cock twitches from within and he has to keep the urge to buck his hips at bay.

In seconds, Focaccia’s surprised gasp turns into giggles, her husband’s lips tickling her neck and his hand caressing softly under her shirt. It seems he is in dire need of attention and she’s happy to oblige after his routined absence.

“Did you miss me a lot, baby?”she coos, her hand meeting his cheek in an affectionate caress. Oh how happy it makes her to call this man her hubby!

Prosciutto grunts in response, no longer in the mood for teasing. Gently but with swift and decisive hands, he scoops her into his lap. His densely furrowed brows are what greet her first, the shining blues next, and the needy pout of his lips last.

Nuzzling him as affectionately as she straddles his legs, Focaccia gives him what he’s wanted at long last. A kiss to welcome him home. It’s tender but not chaste, and much much slower than he would like. But with each suckle of his lips, Prosciutto steps closer to a wonderful madness. It’s not that he was miles from home when he needed to finish his errands yet their reunions ignite a fire within him that encompasses a thousand absences.

With urgent hands and a restless energy that plagues his very soul, Prosciutto gropes and grabs his way under her clothing, every inch of skin warmer than the last. There is not enough time to explore every hidden secret of her body before he will lose his mind from needing to be inside her snug walls.

Though she is accustomed to Prosciutto’s habitual state of neediness every now and then, Focaccia finds herself surprised at his vigor. The rate at which he tugs at her shirt before having her take it off entirely is alarming. It’s fortunate that she forwent any bras that day. When his mouth collides with her collarbones in soft, wet kisses, she’s reduced to begging.

“Patrizio…” She pleads and Prosciutto decides he likes this sound more than the ones that aroused him. Ignoring the hopeless throbbing between his legs, Prosciutto gives her a silent response, his hand squeezing her sides while his mouth kisses to the valley between her breasts. How many times has he found sanctuary right above her beating heart?

The rhythmic thumping accompanies Focaccia’s moans beautifully, and Prosciutto realizes he will never find a symphony so perfect anywhere else. Finally allowing himself to bask in her taste, he kisses the vast expanse of one breast before taking the nipple into his mouth, groaning from the soft texture. Lightning strikes within his veins and Prosciutto swears his body is abuzz with electricity.

Slender fingers play with her other nipple in unison, eliciting delectable little sparks in Focaccia’s belly, further wetting her between her legs. Squeezing her thighs together, she wills herself not to grind right over her husband’s crotch and fails miserably. But his groans into her breast in response to her movements only seek to stir the knot inside. Panting for breath, Focaccia’s gaze turns downwards where she meets the oceanic view of her Prosciutto’s eyes. His irises swim with lust and she’s unable to comprehend the insatiable depth of his desires.

Savoring the taste of her skin and moaning at the silky texture, Prosciutto succumbs to his thoughts. His wife, for him and only him to enjoy. The deep blue of his eyes reflect every ounce of arduous possessiveness that wracks through his being, making him impatient. Unable to take much longer of his uncomfortable pants, Prosciutto hands leave the warmth of Focaccia’’s skin, temporarily fumbling with his belt.

When her hands converge with his halfway, he halts as if a virginal boy exposing himself for the first time. The pure pinkness of his cheeks never leaving him, he silently lets her unzip the bulging fabric. And when his eyes encounter her warm browns, he’s met with a crystal clear reflection of himself, twinkling amongst a dark galaxy. Her face embellished with a sweet smile, Focaccia is gentle and steady with her fingers, dexterously allowing her husband’s erection to come forth from his trousers.

“Cazzo…” Prosciutto curses under his breath, the delicate digits of her hands nearly bringing him to climax. A few strokes into their playtime Prosciutto’s legs writhe with pleasure as Focaccia’s hands are equally sticky from precum. “Take it off,” he demands, clawing at her pajamas with a bone chilling tone, his words purely driven by lust.

She complies without another word, shimmying the pair down her legs enough for him to peek at her panties. Eager from her teasing fingers, Prosciutto forces her legs despite the elastic band of the pj’s sticking to her thighs, trying to make his hips fit into the gap while pushing the crotch of her underwear aside.

“They’ll tear!” She cries, having no choice but to assent with his sudden decision. Balancing herself by his shoulder, she tries to push the pajamas down further before she hears the inevitable sound of tearing fabric, only to be impaled with an abrupt intrusion.

“I'll buy you new ones," Prosciutto promises, but it's not enough to alleviate the uncomfortable pressure on her thighs. Yelping from invasion into her core, Focaccia tries to ignore uneasy restrictions, focusing completely on the girth that fills her. Every ridge, every curve of his cock sets her walls flaming.

Finally, he thinks, relishing in the warmth of her snug pussy. He hasn’t even pushed himself in completely, yet he feels the release near with every second. Involuntarily, a loud groan escapes him as he tries to sink deeper. Vitality surges between his bones as he thinks of how much he loves her to her very essence; how he came to be utterly possessed by this quirky woman who speaks to herself and makes strange noises when she reads.

Sensing her discomfort, Prosciutto stretches the flimsy fabric pulled taught by the heavy thighs of his wife, ripping them to feel her muscles convulse quicker around him. With no limitations to stop him, he allows himself to pound into her, forcing her to meet every thrust with a bounce.

“Patrizio!” She cries in a high pitched moan, her eyes shut tight from the overwhelming stimulation. Squeezing the ample flesh of her ass, he grits his teeth to thrust faster, the mind numbing sensation conquering his body completely. Mindless fingers map their way onto her clit, as he kisses atop her breasts, roaming circles over the nub.

Nails digging into her husband’s shoulders, Focaccia submits utterly to the gut wrenching pleasure, gushing around him with fervor and a cry of his name. She nearly loses herself, bucking her hips wildly to his rhythm. Warm fluid shoots into her womb and Prosciutto reaches his high subsequently. “Sei così fottutamente stupendo,” he declares in a soft murmur. Despite his memories failing him, Focaccia still remembers them as the words he told her on their first time.

As the tension in their legs gives away, Prosciutto finds himself falling sideways into bed with her, the energy to sit leaving his body. Still clinging to her husband’s upper half, Focaccia pants into his hair, giving him an affectionate kiss to the temple.

“Ruined a good pair of pajamas, you did,” she tells him, pulling away to see the smirk plastered to his lips.

“Should I go buy a pair right now?” He teases, pulling with a groan. “No! Stay!” Focaccia pleads, caging his frame in her arms. Now he’s home.

commissions [OPEN]❤️‍🔥support my work

#prosciutto #jjba x oc #prosciutto x focaccia #prosciutto x oc #selfship stuff #selfship n sfw #focaccia fics #fics #n sfw #sid writes #focaccia stuff

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nancyqueerler · 2 years

Note

Prompt??? Nancy meets robins parents , does it go bad or good who knows you decide. Bonus points if they catch them making out.

"Okay, just be cool, 'kay, Nance?" Robin repeated for the fortieth time that evening. All Nancy could do was nod for the fortieth time, kiss Robin for the fortieth time, and repeat for the fortieth time: "I will, Robs."

It was strangely hot for an early spring afternoon. The wind seemed to have wanted to be at leisure, ponder why it was wind, and take the night off due to the stress of pondering. It was not appreciated by any means, especially by a girl of the name Robin Buckley, who kept pulling at her collar as though it were a snake trying to asphyxiate her.

("If you don't like that texture when it's hot, why wear it—"

"Because my parents like these kinds of clothes, Nance!")

Nothing seemed to go well leading up to the dinner. Robin had lost her favorite ring—an intricate silver with a brilliant sapphire yoked in its cradle gifted to her by Max—and Nancy had found that her blouse was stained with an odd red splotch. Arnold—their cat—thought it would be fun to throw up three grotesque lumps of hairballs that came out an ugly green in three different rooms just as they were supposed to leave.

Arnold was suspiciously pleased while observing them scoop up each mess.

Robin had it the worst. She kept panicking, scratching her neck, digging a nail into a scab on her elbow, almost completely shutting down had Nancy not been there to ground her. As an understatement, she was nervous.

"Robin, I promise you," Nancy had said to a near-tears Robin, "that no matter what happens, you and I are what matter in this relationship. Not them. Not anyone else. Just us."

Robin still cried. All Nancy could do was kiss the crown of her head while she drenched her girlfriend's clothes in tears.

Eventually, somehow, they made it to the Buckleys' front porch. Robin's eyes were rimmed red, detailed with angry red veins, and her fists were in the pockets of her dress—yes, a dress, and an ugly one at that. Pink and with so much frill that Nancy was convinced the designer thought it was the only material in the world. Frills stitched the the neckline, frills down the bosom, frills girdled the cuffs of the sleeves. Robin was practically chewing her cheeks raw wanting to claw the thing off her body.

It ached Nancy to see Robin so fretful.

Nancy had been the one to knock, seeing as Robin's hands were too fidgety to move. And when her parents came to the door, Nancy could read just when Robin shut down and set her brain on autopilot.

Dinner was odd. Nancy could hardly perceive anything that had gone on, like she was experiencing someone else's past dreams. The father had said something, something comedic, it seemed, and Robin made a sound that was most definitely not a genuine laugh. Practiced and not fit for her voice. The mother asked Nancy a question, but she couldn't remember if she had answered correctly. Truthfully. Whatever she had said, the mother had smiled at her kindly.

Nancy did remember feeling brain-numbingly nauseous.

The parents made strange comments that Nancy could not decipher as well-meaning or backhanded. Robin told a story about Arnold, how she had once startled the cat so much so that he hissed, how she had to give him extra treats to get on his good side again. Nancy had said something, a harmless anecdote harking back to when she had first truly met Robin. A sweet reminiscence.

It had been the wrong thing to reminisce about, apparently, because both parents sagged dourly, clinking their utensils to the plate like a teacher had just told them their kid had been acting up in class and they were trying to act civil as to not lunge at the messenger.

Robin was terribly quiet after that.

"Did I say something wrong?" Nancy asked when they dismissed themselves to do the dishes. The bleak blue tiles that were plastered on the walls and counters were clashing awfully with Nancy's mood for some reason.

Robin was silent for a moment, perhaps two, focused on scratching off a particular brown fleck on the china. "No," said Robin monotonously, like her vocal cords were being fixed in place by cement. "Everything you did was fine."

"Robs, look, I really don't want to argue here, and I'm sure you don't want to either, so can you just tell me why you and your parents are acting like someone pissed in their meal?" Nancy kept her voice leveled enough, she hoped, and took Robin's sudsy hand into hers. She barely reacted; her fingers twitched, tightened enough for Nancy to feel the pads on her knuckles, but that was it.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Nance," she said, and Nancy felt a gust of relief shoot down her sternum at the nickname. "It's just... I know we said that this was a meet-the-parents kind of dinner, but..."

"We've barely talked about each other, nor have your parents asked about us." Nancy took a heeled step closer, chin almost atop Robin's shoulder. "I know you said your parents are a bit..."

"Assholes?"

"No—okay, yeah, assholes, but—" Nancy bit her lip and creased her eyes "—I thought they'd at least have the decency to pretend to care. Or at least to not outright express their distaste."

Robin laughed lowly enough for it to only come to Nancy's ears just scarcely. "I hoped so too, but I guess not. I knew as soon as they opened the door. Dad didn't even force a smile. Mom didn't wear her pearls like she usually does when she's hosting. They might as well have worn a sign that said We Are Only Doing This So We Don't Feel So Shitty That We Don't Want Anything To Do With Our Daughter's Intimate Life."

Nancy snorted. "That'd be a bit long to go on a sign, don't you think?"

"I'll say." Robin finally looked at Nancy, her blue eyes virtually pearls in the sheen of the kitchen fluorescents. She had a tiny, exhausted smile on her lips. The only smile Nancy had gotten from Robin the entire day.

"Thank you for going through with this anyway, Nance," Robin said, her head lolling down to press against Nancy's.

"I should be thanking you." Nancy smiled brightly, cupping one side of Robin's jaw. "I'm proud of you for getting through this without yelling at your parents. I know I wanted to." And Robin laughed again, shaking her head, consequently rubbing the buttons of their noses together.

They kissed. They kissed, and it was as soft as they always were. Both were still smiling like idiots, warming themselves more than the sun that evening ever could have. Robin put her foam-gloved hands on the dips of Nancy's waist, and Nancy drew circles with her middle finger on Robin's nape, creating circlets of honey-brown hair. Their bodies came flushed against each other's like puzzle pieces, love-drunk and fuzzy.

Their forty-first kiss that day.

"At least wait until you're inside your car," said a voice, and the caught lovers broke apart like a puzzle dropped from a significant height.

"Mom—"

"Robin, just—" The mother worried her temples with her wrinkled fingers, glancing over her shoulder to find nothing but the door she came through. "Your dad and I are tired. We'll finish up everything. You two can leave. Go on and spend the rest of what's left in the day together. Cherish your youth, and whatnot."

They had been silent for a while, staring at each other long enough that silence tread the lines of awkwardness, when Robin bowed her head, took Nancy by the wrist, and practically flew them to the car before another word could be uttered.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked when she shut the car door behind her. Robin nodded, but her gaze was far off. Nancy took that as a sign to just pull out of the driveway and begin their drive home.

"I love you, Nancy," Robin had said after a good ten minutes into the drive.

"I love you too, Robin. We're almost home."

Hope I didn't go overboard on a prompt, but here it is! I like how it turned out, I think.

#ronance #heron's writing

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liquid-geodes · 1 year

Text

Okay since @you-are-a-superstar and @glitchysquidd both asked for it, here's whatever the fuck my brain decides to give you of blind springtrap au (don't worry @lo-batt I see you and ily and I'm gonna get to it)

No I will NOT be reading this before I post it, it's up to you to decipher whatever happens next ♡

Footsteps. Two pairs, only one recognizable as yours. He never cared much for the other employees to bother trying to discern them from one another, but you had been different. You, who hadn't been afraid of his hulking form the day he had been wheeled into the attraction.

You, who had worked tirelessly trying to restore his eyesight after discovering he had been functioning without.

You, who treated him with a kindness he didn't deserve.

It had been a week since you'd last been to work, some sort of family thing that had you out of town that whole time, though he would admit he didn't care enough to remember what said thing was. All he knew was that it left him alone for a week without you.

But, now you were back, further confirmed as your voice carried down the halls as you laughed at something the person you were walking with had said. The excitement at getting to spend time with you again had sent Springtrap eagerly towards the door of his room. In this excitement, he had forgotten that the door was still closed, a loud, metallic banging sound echoing through the halls. This noise alone set everyone on edge, their movements halted as they glanced between one another in fear. Everyone except you.

A few seconds later, a low groan left the room as the old metal door creaked open, a green hand slowly creeping around its edges until the cause of such a noise slowly revealed himself. A smile worked its way across your face as you approached the door, leaving your petrified associate behind as you resisted the urge to laugh.

"Hey buddy... forget you locked the door?"

Your question was, as always, meet with silence, a glare being sent in your general direction as he tried to pinpoint the location of your voice.

"Here, let me grab your hand and get you out into the light. Gotta make sure you didn't crack anything, yeah?" You warn him before gently taking his hand in your smaller ones.

He'd never say it out loud, but he appreciated the way you'd state your intentions before grabbing him in any way. At least now he knew to expect your hands on his, even going as far as to offer his hand through the gap in the door, allowing himself to be dragged into the main hallway.

After making sure nothing out of the ordinary was broken, you walked him through your schedule for the day, letting him decide if he wanted to tag along or not. Of course he decided to follow, he missed you after all, not that he'd say that to your face. Instead he just listened as you talked about your week, the chaos that followed with your family getting together like that, the drive back, anything you said had his undivided attention.

"As much as I love seeing them again, it wasn't as fun as being here with you. Not a lot of three hundred pound rabbits running around back home... was starting to miss always having someone around." You finally admit, and you don't miss the way his ears, or whatever's left of them that is, perk up at the confession. You missed him too? You liked having him around? You didn't just tolerate his existence?

Huh-

That almost made running into the door earlier worth it.

"Obviously I didn't miss it enough to run into a door or anything."

Almost.

He wished he could see the smile on your face as you failed to contain your giggles at his expense, the way the corners of your eyes crinkled as you smiled biggest around him.

Instead, he settles for feeling your grin against the palm of his large hands as he gently pushes your head to the side in a feeble attempt to make you stop laughing. He doesn't dare pull away when both your hands grab his wrist as you settle your cheek into the palm of his hand. He can feel your gaze on him, adoration he'd never get to see flooding your eyes as you settle into a peaceful silence.

"I really did miss you y'know." The conviction in your voice left no room for protest, no room for him to deny and convince himself he was a nuisance in your life. He was loved, whether he liked it or not. And maybe one day he'd be okay with that.

Just as you think you'll never get a response from him, his raspy voice finally cuts through the silence around you, his eyes looking through you as you look into the faded LEDs that tried to face your direction.

"I missed you too."

#dave posting #link's aus #blind springtrap au #link writes

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ootori-sibs · 5 months

Text

The Candor of Youth

Part 11

Welcome to the second act.

Tw; mentioned vomit, food shaming, blood, hallucinations, implied and mentioned abuse, homophobia (period accurate)

The main Ootori mansion, April 1970.

Yoshio Ootori was 16 years old, going on 17. He had just begun his second year of highschool, and was kind of hoping it would be less eventful than his last. To his credit, he'd been more or less behaving; he'd been avoiding his father, finding excused not to visit Kokomi's home, and sometimes actually referring to Yuzuru as a friend.

Not today though, Yuzuru was being annoying today.

"-wait but why? You're a straight A student!"

Yoshio sighed, gripping the phone tightly in his hand, "Father said only queers learn French, so I have to drop the subject."

"That's not fair!" Yuzuru whined, burning Yoshio's ears a little bit, "there's plenty of normal people in France!"

"I don't know what to say, Souh, I can't disobey..."

There was a moment of silence and for a moment, Yoshio almost thought Yuzuru had hung up on him. Then, Yuzuru spoke, softer than before. "It's okay Yoshio, I understand. I wouldn't want to make your father angry either. You're allowed to do what you need to, but... if you want to help me with my French homework still..."

To the undertrained ear, it sounded like Yuzuru was just trying to get free labour, but Yoshio had become rather skilled at deciphering what the boy meant. He was suggesting that Yoshio continue to learn French that way. Yoshio... really appreciated that, but he wasn't the kind of boy to do work for free.

"What do I get in return?"

"Wha-" Yuzuru chuckled, "you tricky little thing, Ootori! Fine, how about I have my mother make us some lemonade when you come to help me, I know you like lemons?"

Yoshio considered that proposal, he did like lemonade... "I like it, but for the grammar homework I want those little custard treats you had the maids make for my birthday last year."

"Deal!"

"Deal."

With that, both boys hung up the phone. Yoshio couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, he liked their little practice business deals. He couldn't help but to find them fun, plus it was good to have practice. He'd been studying up on the family business lately, trying to teach himself as much as he possibly could about the world of business.

He couldn't deny he felt excited, just as much as he was scared. The world of business seemed to be calling him like a siren song, it all seemed so exciting, so fascinating. Yoshio couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the family business, and show everyone that he was a force to be reckoned with.

Currently, however, he was just sitting in his room, daydreaming. He didn't like to waste time, so he stood up, and began to look through his books. It was Saturday, so he had all the time in the world to brush up on his knowledge, but it was also the 4th of April, so his Birthday was soon. The idea of having another birthday did scare Yoshio, but he knew that there was no avoiding it, and more importantly, the day before was far more pressing.

Last year he and his darling fiancée had come up with a wicked, dastardly plan, and tomorrow the second phase would be put into effect. So currently, Yoshio could be forgiven for being just a tad nervous. He wasn't built to be a criminal, but had cut his teeth on that life and needed to follow Kokomi's plan through to the end.

As he read, he felt an itching in his brain and it was hard to ignore, he closed his eyes, trying to will it to stop. When he opened them, however, there was blood on his hands.

Yoshio's breath hitched for a moment as he stared at the blood, the sounds of screaming in his ears, the sound of Kokomi's praise echoing in his mind. He felt like there was a weight pressed to his chest, and the room seemed to flicker at the corners of his eyes.

He blinked again, and it was gone.

Yoshio wiped the tears from his eyes and shakingly, stood. He opened the door to his bedroom, and yelled for one of the maids to come and run him a bath.

Waiting for it to be ready, Yoshio sat on his bed and shivered. He wasn't cold, so he wasn't quite sure why he was shaking like this. All he knew was that he felt incredibly filthy, like there was still somehow blood on his clothes, on his body... god, it was everywhere.

He knew logically that he was already clean, but he couldn't shake the feeling creeping up his spine. He desperately needed to get clean, he couldn't last another minute feeling as filthy as he did right now.

Was he going to vomit? He wasn't sure; his stomach was turning flips but he wasn't gagging like he usually would. He was dizzy, he was sitting down but still felt like he was going to fall over any second. The maid came to tell him the bath was ready, but he didn't move. She approached him, and gently helped him to stand, walking him to the bathroom.

She was the nice one, she didn't rattle on about things, and she routinely forgot to starch his shirts. He'd never asked her name, but he was grateful for her help now, as she even helped him undress and then climb into the bath.

The water was warm but not scalding, just the way Yoshio liked it. It helped to ground him a little, and he found his breathing began to regulate itself.

"Are you fine to wash yourself, young master?" The maid asked, a gentle smile on her face.

Yoshio nodded, waving her off. "Yes, thank you..."

"Rei, sir."

"Thank you, Rei."

Now he was alone, Yoshio took a deep breath, and gently began to wash himself with a flannel. He didn't like to scrub, he hated the way it felt. He also didn't like bubbles, he found them unnecessary and rather childish. Yoshio did enjoy baths, though, he just didn't like all the frills attached. As far as he was concerned, sitting in some warm water and getting clean was a relaxing enough process on its own.

The problem with baths is that eventually they have to end. Yoshio looked at his fingers, all wrinkled from the water. He never understood why that happened; shouldn't they have absorbed water, not lost it? Either way, he knew it meant he had been in the bath too long and that it was time to get out.

He didn't...want to, though. Call him a toddler, but Yoshio hated the immediate cold that came once he got out of the lovely warm water. He decided to compromise, so he pulled the plug, but didn't move.

Laying in the bath while the water drained was...odd. He felt as if he was growing heavier by the second, and it took a lot more effort than normal to move his body. Yoshio began to get uncomfortable, he might hate getting out of the bath, but feeling weak was worse. He let tiny sounds of displeasure leave his mouth as he tried to sit up, pushing up against the end of the bath to help him slide up.

He managed to sit up, but the problem then became standing up, or at least somehow getting out of the tub. The biggest issue with this task would be the fact that Yoshio couldn't stand without the help of his cane, and it was probably impractical to use a cane in the bathtub.

He also definitely didn't want to call for a maid, it was bad enough he'd had to be helped into the bath, he didn't want to admit he needed help getting out as well. It occurred to him that he could just push through the pain and try to stand, but the risk of cracking his head open on the sink was too scary for him to actually attempt it.

Plan B it was, then.

He wrapped an arm and his good leg over the side of the tub, and took a breath before attempting to heave himself over the edge, and onto the floor.

It worked! With a soft thud, Yoshio landed on the floor of his bathroom, staring up at the ceiling with a whole lot of regret. Why had he done that? Was he stupid? Those questions probably answered each other, he figured, as he climbed up onto the bathroom chair.

He was out of breath, and his face was red from embarrassment despite no one having seen. He had half a mind to call Yuzuru back and inform him so he knew to laugh at Yoshio.

God, he was a failure. He sighed, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. Saturdays never seemed to go well for him, then again, neither did any of the other days. Mondays seemed to be his favourite at the moment, as he got to see Kokomi and Yuzuru, but that was really the only reason. Yoshio figured his life really must suck if Yuzuru of all people was a highlight.

That boy was so annoying.

Handsome though.

Once Yoshio was finally dressed, it was time for dinner. So Yoshio made his way downstairs to the dining room.

Dinner was always far more quiet now that Yosuke and Fumihito were `missing`. Those two had always been so loud and...just a bundle of energy. Yoshio passingly wondered if it was wrong to miss his brothers when it was his fault they'd been kidnapped.

Sitting down, Yoshio was cheered up by the dish, it was salmon and asparagus. As far as healthy foods were concerned, asparagus was not the worst option, and Yoshio did quite enjoy it actually. His younger brother's didn't like salmon, which Yoshio found quite odd. Well... Akira did like the salmon skin, just not the rest of it for some reason. That worked out perfectly, though, as Yoshio wasn't fond of the skin, and luckily enough, they always sat next to each other.

Leaning over, Akira, now 5 years old, whispered. "Hey Yoshi... you okay?"

Yoshio nodded, whispering back, "I'm good, why?"

" You've got a bwuise on your arm." Akira informed him, poking him directly in that bruise.

Yoshio winced, but nodded, "I slipped and fell, don't worry, Akira."

Akira nodded at that, seemingly satisfied.

After that little exchange, they ate in silence. His other two younger brothers; Takahiro and Hibiki, were talking about something or other though. Yoshio didn't like to eavesdrop but he was pretty sure they were discussing Attack No*1. Yoshio didn't really watch any shows, he preferred to read or listen to music, now he didn't think that made him better than them... but he was pretty sure it made him smarter.

Father only joined them around halfway through dinner, and silence fell over the room as soon as he walked in. He was visibly tense, to the point that Yoshio held his breath to avoid his father remembering he existed.

His father made a comment to Hibiki about how much the boy was eating, and Yoshio felt something flare up inside of him. Hibiki was only 8 years old, it doesn't really matter if he eats `too much` at that age! He didn't dare glare at his father though, for fear of his life. Glancing toward Yuuma, though, Yoshio could see that same fire in his brother's eyes as he felt behind his eyes.

"Father..." Yuuma began, and all eyes were on him. Yuuma was the eldest, but it was still shocking to see him be so brave. "Don't you think it's fine if Hibiki has a little more? It's only asparagus..."

Everyone around the table held their breath, and Yoshio felt faint already. He knew Father would never hit Yuuma, but it was still absolutely terrifying.

"Only asparagus..?" Father echoed, looking up from his meal with a cold, measured anger that sent chills down Yoshio's spine. "Do you know how that asparagus is cooked, Yuuma?"

Yuuma paused, he clearly didn't know... Yoshio didn't know either, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be good for Yuuma's argument. "I... no father, I don't, but-"

"Using butter!! Yuuma!" Father began to roar, hands slamming down on the table. Yoshio couldn't help but let out an audible whimper, but managed to steel himself when Akira grabbed his arm. "Butter or lard!! If Hibiki wants to eat lard then that's fine but he shouldn't come crying to me if he gets fat!!"

Hibiki was crying now, with Takahiro comforting him. Yoshio was still in shock that Akira had turned to him of all people for comfort, but he did his best to pat his brother on the head and keep him calm. Yuuma looked pale, and Yoshio had...never seen his older brother so close to tears like this.

It was a haunting sight.

"I...yes father, I understand..." Yuuma responded, glancing away and nodding. That seemed to have settled the argument, as father sat down and continued eating.

Hibiki and Takahiro left the table pretty quickly, followed by Akira. Yoshio was fully aware that Yuuma was watching him closely. He knew that Yuuma wanted to leave, he must be waiting for Yoshio to leave first...

The problem was that Yoshio didn't want to move a muscle. He barely let himself breath, just in case father saw it as something disrespectful. The last thing Yoshio wanted to do right now was incur his fathers wrath, and if that meant keeping his brother there until father left the room then so be it.

Maybe he could apologise later on...

Yoshio could barely bring himself to eat, leaning over his plate so that eating made as little movement as possible. Anything to avoid drawing his father's eye and in turn, his wrath. He felt sick again, just like he had earlier that day. He prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't throw up- that would make everything so much worse, and the idea of throwing up made him even more nauseous.

He could feel Yuuma's eyes boring into him, but he didn't dare to meet them. Yoshio didn't want to disappoint his brother, but staying safe was more important. He might now be smart, but Yoshio's survival instincts were top tier. He knew exactly what to do, and all he had to do now was keep his thoughts under control.

However, with every minute that passed, Yoshio grew more and more terrified; his hands shook and he felt that he would throw up even if he breathed the wrong way. His entire body felt cold, and he could feel his cheek burning even though nothing had hit it yet. It was like the feeling that had occurred earlier, but so much worse here, because the threat was undeniably real. Yoshio did have to be careful, and his father was visibly in a bad mood.

#yoshio ootori #yuzuru souh

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