#and I frankly find it a bit tiring that you now have to avoid liking a character

[thevikingwoman]

no, sorry, I've actually never disliked a character because of their fans

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

after midnight - chappell roan

pairing: singer/producer lee heeseung x singer reader "y/n" x singer sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, suggestive, kissing, heeseung is thirsty, overall 18+ - also this is partially written so please make sure to read the written part so it all makes sense

wc: 954

ignore the time stamps and any possible typos lol

heeseung approaches y/n as she’s mingling with jake and his friends. her smile fading after he taps her shoulder and he comes into view. “can i steal her for a bit?” heeseung asks jake as if jake was the person in charge of you. a recurring behavior heeseung where he felt the need to always show ownership and possession of you when you were dating, rarely ever considering how you felt or how it would affect you. 

jake shakes his head and lets you go with heeseung even if you don't want to. heeseung grabs your wrist after failing to hold your hand, dragging you to a part of the venue where you weren’t necessarily seen by a lot of people. “what do you want heeseung? i’m trying to enjoy the party…” you say with a sigh and he tries to reel you in by showing you his big doe eyes and even though it slightly made your heart flutter, you chose to stand on business. 

“look, i know i fucked up but just give me one more chance to treat you right.” heeseung says but slows down as the sentence progresses when you just so happen to say the same exact things as him. this was the sentence he had pulled on you in the past and quite frankly, it worked a few times but not this time. 

“you didn’t even wanna try a new script to get me back?” you ask coldly and heeseung drops his face like he has been caught. “okay, i just don’t know what to say. i miss you and i know i was a fucking ass but i just can’t stand being without you.” heeseung says and you just watch him, waiting because you know he was eventually going to tell on himself. he had that habit, when heeseung was drunk and he began to ramble at you, if you just stared at him his silent pauses would be filled with more rambling because he wanted to avoid the awkward silence. so he’d fill it with more talking and eventually confess something he didn’t mean to.

“and i don’t know. that sond i made was mean i admit that but did you have to do a collab with jake of all people? you know how much i liked his music and it felt like a low blow.” there it is…

“ha! i knew it! you’re jealous, i can’t believe this is what this is actually about. do you even want me back or are you just threatened with the idea that someone else wants me and that i’m no longer yours?” you ask, anger in your voice and heeseung doesn’t know what to say. 

“heeseung, i mean this in the nicest way possible, leave me alone.” you say and although heeseung was expecting something a bit harsher, your tired demeanor and offset to his advances hurt more than your words. 

you walk away before heeseung could say another but you don’t rejoin jake and his friends, choosing to find a spot you could be alone for a few minutes. 

you turn around to hide yourself from jake as he approaches, half embarrassed that he has to see you like this and the other feeling guilty as you’re bringing down the vibe of his own party. 

“you okay, pretty?” jake asks as he pushes open the door to the balcony. the cold air whipping past him as he takes the spot next to you. clearing your throat, “yeah, i’m okay. sorry i don’t wanna be a downer on your birthday.” you say, trying to avoid eye contact but jake softly grabs your chin to make eye contact with you. 

“can i be honest..? i wasn’t really feeling the party either.” jake says with a chuckle and he gets a laugh out of you at the same time, smiling even bigger when he hears your laugh that he finds so pretty. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks and as much as you wanted to, you felt bad. “jake, this is your party, you should be here.” you say to him and jake just rolls his eyes with a pout. “nah, everyone in there is probably too drunk to even notice.” he reassures you and for a moment you’re just looking at each other. jake’s eyes are fishing for the small glint in your eyes that tells him you want this as much as he does, and indeed you do. 

you take his hand in yours and drag him back inside, past the party, and into the elevator. “where you taking me, huh?” jake says, teasingly and you roll your eyes at him playfully as you drag jake to your car. 

the drive back to your place is filled with laughter and singing random songs with jake. he couldn’t believe this was finally, his crush on you was finally progressing to something more. his eyes widened at the sight of your apartment, a high rise but humble home that screamed your style. cute figures and stuffed animals scattered throughout the home and empty cans of energy drinks on your kitchen counter. 

jake is taken out of his thoughts when you slam the door behind him and you grab him by the collar. “do you think i’m pretty?” you ask even though you already know that answer to it. jake nods, desperation in his eyes as he looks down at your lips. 

“do you wanna kiss me, jakey?” you ask and he nods eagerly, answering faster than the first time. you don’t even get a chance to lean closer to jake before he crashes his lips onto yours. a moment he had been waiting for. 

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: trouble in paradise for heeseung means smooth sailing for jake! what do we think jake and yn are going to do once they get to yn's place? do a puzzle? coloring book? bake cookies?

also please answer the little poll, the result doesn't affect the story but i'd love to see yalls input

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

taglist: @17ericas @wave2hoon @nikiswifiee @kitzzenz @jae-n0 @dreamiestay @milanco @thinkinboutbin @who-tf-soddhi @yourssincerely-mimi @m3wkledreamy @aespaqq @isa942572 @riribelle @st4r-g1rlllsblog @heartheejake @pochakkeu @nyxiebabyyy @l1vw00n @ningningiloveumarryme @softchannie @jakeyverse @payformycoffeeandleave @alpha-mommy69 @starry-eyed-bimbo @insommni4 @wiccangirl29 @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @blockbusterhee @heeaxvhhoon @yjngwon04 @mingyudids @zyvlxqht @sxnmavi @poeticjustice1010 @paririnnn @1starqi @whoa-jo

[sixosix]

wc 900, guys i’m still a 4.0 lore player so forgive me if lyney’s getting ooc now 🙁 but anw ENJOY THIS MESS OF A GUY!! requested by anon

or, lyney can't stop staring at your lips

Lyney is beginning to think he might be obsessed with you. Or that you’re bad for him.

He’s stumbling over his lines when he sees you in the audience, his fingers catch on each other when he catches you smiling knowingly, and he gets nervous—the most absurd tell. It’s unlike him to feel his heart pounding in his ears when he’s already started the show. None of this feels natural.

It gets to the point where Lynette has to drag him off after a scene, worry evident on her usually-passive features.  “What’s happening to you?”

“I think I might be going insane,” Lyney admits, running his hand across his face. “I can feel it, Lynette. I’ve gone mad.”

All because you kissed him and he damn near exploded on the spot.

It wasn’t a special kiss. There wasn’t even tongue involved. He didn’t even see it coming. Hell, it was half a second and only on the side of his lips. Can it even be counted as a kiss?

If kisses could drive Lyney to a point where he can’t stop thinking about your lips, it might.

Lyney makes a pitiful noise, like a wounded animal. Lynette sighs heavily, as in relief that it’s not anything serious. But it is something serious. How is he supposed to move on in his life when you’re the only thing running through his head?

“Lynette,” Lyney cries, “this isn’t normal. I’ve caught something. Check my temperature.”

“You’re lovesick,” she replies simply, batting the hand that’s trying to get her to place her palm on his forehead. “and you have a show to finish. Get it together, brother.”

Get it together. Yeah, he can do that—if the object of his desires isn’t seated in the front row. But for now, Lynette is glaring daggers, stern like a mother, and Lyney sucks it up and makes a point of avoiding your eyes later on.

Avoiding your eyes usually means staring at other parts of your face.

Lyney feels the last bit of his sanity chip away when you decided it would be a splendid idea to wear something glossy over your lips, as if he wasn’t already distracted enough as is. You have got to be doing this on purpose.

Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip. He feels lightheaded.

“You look desperate,” Lynette tells him, which is frankly enough to make him want the ground to swallow him whole.

This also gets to a point where Freminet pulls him aside and asks him if he’s feeling sick. He feels like it. Lovesick and desperate, as Lynette so elegantly put it.

How embarrassing. Is this what you’ve reduced him to? Freminet looked at him with all wide, worried eyes, and Lyney can’t outright say the reason for his predicament. He excuses that he feels tired, and he doesn’t mention that his lips are feeling incredibly lonely.

Freminet, precious and understanding and thankfully unaware, nods and says, “I hope you feel better soon.” Lyney finds that unlikely, but he thanks him anyway. “Oh, and you should look behind you.”

Lyney turns and finds you waving at him, gesturing for him.Your fingers curl and it almost looks like you’re calling for a pet. And Lyney, weak and obsessed Lyney, follows without a second thought. Try as he might, he can never stay too long away from you, because as much as you’re driving him crazy, seeing you, hearing you, is enough to brighten his entire day and momentarily forget you’re the reason why he almost messed up with his lines.

He stands before you with a bit of distance. You want him gone so you pull him by the collar until his head is dipped down.

“You look feverish,” you say. Feverish, desperate, the list could go on and on.

I feel like it, Lyney wants to say; instead, his words are caught on the tip of his tongue as your eyes trace over his entire face. He feels as if he’s laying himself bare for you, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it at all, not when he’s soaking up your attention like he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

“Hey,” you whisper, a testament to your proximity, a smirk on your face, “my eyes are up here, Lyney.”

Lyney frowns, feeling petulant now that he’s aware of your schemes. “I’m not being indecent; please don’t phrase it like that.” Or is it worse that he’s ogling your mouth?

You laugh brightly, and he melts just a little. “You’re too obvious, Lyney.” He loves it when you say his name. He’s addicted to how your mouth carves his name. A poke on his cheek startles him enough to look up to your eyes, shame crawling in his cheeks. “See? You’re doing it again.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Lyney.” You have got to stop doing that. Then again, he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose seeing how it affects him terribly. “If you want something, take it. Don’t stand around and do nothing about it.”

Lyney’s breath hitches, his blush climbing higher from his neck to his entire face. “Don’t just say that.” He can’t handle your crooked grin. He pulls you to his chest and buries his face on your neck—if it’s to keep your face away or to hide his expression, no one would be able to tell. “You can’t just say that.”

“I know what I’m saying. Don’t take me for a fool.”

Your lips brush his. His mind blanks. You’re bad for him—you have to be, but everything that comes after feels natural, at least.

[bizbat]

Those Jason crush hcs were so funny (obvi they were cute too) butJason getting so embarrassed he tried to crawl outside with 4 bullet holes and half his blood outside his body was such a mood. Me too dude. Can we have some more of him being delulu about his crush? It was so deliciously embarrassing and funny. What would happen if his wifey/husbando was just boldly was like- “Jason we're not dating, why would you think we were? We're not even having sex?”

EVEN MORE! When They're In Love Headcanons - Jason Todd

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ You can find parts One, Two, and Three here!

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ This is gonna be mostly fic bc I am running out of ideas lol. This took an inappropriate amount of time to write omg

~ Jay is kinda toxic so Tw: Unhealthy Relationships Dynamics, mentions of having children, slight violence, Jason is a freak and reader is tired.

By now, I've made it clear that this man is deep in the delusion.

But I haven't really gone into detail in what I mean by that.

I mean he'll say something teasing in jest, and if you reciprocate that energy even the tiniest bit, he will take that and run with it.

Though that's not even solid, bc if you take everything he says literally, he'd still think you're playing along.

Jason could make a joke with someone and not gaf about their response, but you could say the exact same thing as the person he joked with and he'd get heart eyes.

So far, I've kinda been writing with an oblivious reader in mind but a reader who knows all of Jason's delusions would pretty interesting lol.

You'd probably overhear him talking to Roy or Dick about your "date" last night.

Read: He broke into your apartment while you were at work and surprised you with chinese takeout when you got home.

I think if you confronted him about his delusions, he'd be willfully ignorant, and act like he doesn't know what you mean.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

Lian seems so happy, you can't bring yourself to be the bearer of bad news.

You're sat beside the little girl at her even littler table, the handle of a plastic teacup loosely gripped between your thumb and forefinger, your pinky high up in the air. The smile on your face is sincere as she mindlessly babbles, pouring sugar water into your cup.

You can't help but grimace when she encourages you and her stuffed animals to drink up, and you can't help but feel like the girl is being somewhat malicious when she seemingly starts interrogating you, only to push the cup of surgery water back to your lips whenever you to to answer her litany of, frankly, over-personal questions.

Some of the questions you don't mind, they're about as pure and unassuming as the pink princess tiara laying crookedly atop her head. It's when she asks if you and Jason are gonna get married and have babies with the most deadpan face you've ever seen on a child, that finally makes you choke on the (syrup) water.

"Excuse me?!" You ask, wiping away the mess on your face with a embroidered napkin and desperately trying not to hack up the rest of the beverage, undissolved grains of sugar still residing in the back of your throat. "Why would we do that?" You manage between coughs.

Lian glances towards Jason, who is sat at the table across from the two of you, his knees tucked up to his chest, as he hides his face behind his miniature teacup, though it's mostly ineffective, as the cup looks like a shot glass in his massive hand. Lian innocently looks back to you, as if you were the one who'd asked the more confusing question.

"Uncle Jay said you were dating. Isn't that what happens when people date?"

You crane your neck as you slowly turn your head towards Jason, who is avoiding your ice cold gaze like his life depended on it. "Oh, really?" You ask Lian through gritted teeth, though your gaze is solidly planted on Jason. "Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm," The small girl cheerfully nods her head, the dark braids framing either side of her face swinging from the force of her enthusiasm. "He told me you guys were gonna have a bunch of kids so I could have more people to play with!"

You can't help but stare incredulously at the child as she explains. By now, Jason's put down the cup, giving up at his attempt to hide behind it and simply covering his mouth with his hand, sitting silently like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he waits for you to start chewing him out. But it never comes.

"You are, right? I really want more friends." Lian's pleading is almost enough to make you change your mind and agree right there. Almost. As if sensing that she hasn't fully convinced you, Lian continues, going on and on about how she would be a really really good big sister or cousin if you had babies, or how much she's always wanted to go to a wedding, and how pretty you'd be as a bride, and-

She knows better than to continue when you gently raise your hand, as if you're silently saying "That's enough, Lian, please stop talking." You do feel a little remorseful as the girl's once happy demeanor changes to a shyer, more somber at the apparent rejection. You sigh and roll your eyes, finishing of the tiny cup of, what is now, pure sugar. "Maybe someday, Lian."

You put your hand up again, bracing her for the next part of your sentence when you see her start to get riled up again. "But absolutely no promises. Uncle Jay and I need to have a very important conversation later about it, though." That's enough to please Lian, as she goes right back to asking you other invasive questions that have nothing to do with your love life.

Jason, though happily surprised by your answer, stays silent over the next few hours. He honestly forgets you were ever even mad at him to begin with. It's not until you leave and the sky turns that familiar dark red, that you punch Jason in the arm as hard as possible, which, in all honesty, he can't really feel.

Though he does wince and hold his arm in the place where you hit him, to keep your ego intact if nothing else.

"What was that for?!" He dramatically gasps, pouting as he rubs the "sore" spot on his upper arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize it's kinda cute that he plays into your delusions. Just a little.

"Why would you tell Lian of all people we're dating?!" Your hand subtly clenches by your side, though you try to hide the slight pain punching him gave you, at the end of the day, Jason was raised by a detective. "Why would you even say that when you know it's not true?!"

"First of all," He starts, grabbing your hand. "I tell everyone we're dating." He starts soothing your sore knuckles as he tugs you towards your apartment building. He's so confident as he speaks it's genuinely bewildering. "And second, we are dating."

When he sees the utterly gobsmacked look on your face he continues. "We go on dates," (he just shows up at your home once a week. "We get gifts for each other," (he got you a stray kitten he rescued off the street and he steals your underwear). "We have sex-"

"Okay, number one: No we don't," You say, holding your hand out in front of you just like you did with Lian. "Number two: No we don't," You can almost see his eyes glaze over. He listens to every other thing you say, but when you're telling him your not together? That's when he tunes out.

"And number three: that only happened once!" It comes out a harsh whisper. Your face and ears feel hot with embarrassment, but Jason just shrugs. "Three times, actually, but who's counting?" Jason has a sweet, intentionally dopey looking smile.

You're left speechless by his demeanor. "Just kiddin' . . . I'm counting." He thinks the awkward, bewildered silence is hilarious. So he just keeps talking. "I mark it down in my calendar . . . Celebrate it once a month . . . Might get the dates tattooed."

"Jason." You interrupt.

"Hmm?"

"Go home." He looks over and realizes you're both in front of your apartment door, having talked the whole way. Again, he shrugs, pulling a spare key out of his pocket and moving to unlock your door. "Oh my fucking g-"

"What?" He stops, holding up the key midair. "What's wrong?" "Jason," You groan, rubbing your temples. "Why do you have a key to my apartment?" By now you shouldn't be so surprised, but you are. "Oh, this?" He hold up the key, equally confused that you would even ask. "I had one made when we started dating. How did you think I get in for our dates?"

He can almost smell the exhaustion wafting off you at this point. "Plus I live here."

"Jason you don't-"

"I'm just busy! I know, I know, I should be home more, but when I'm blah blah blah." No longer unused to his inane ramblings, you unlock the door and push past him. You don't even stop him when he follows you inside, still going on about his delusions. You just roll your eyes when he takes of his shoes and jacket and tosses them aside like they he really does live there.

"You shouldn't make dinner, you've had a long day, we can order-"

He's interrupted by yet another sigh. "Jason," you begin, plopping down on the couch. He shuts up and listens intently to every sound coming from your mouth. "I just . . ." You sit up straight. "You don't live here, you're a stalker, and we are not dating." Jason nods as you talk, slowly, as if he's taking in what you said.

"I . . . I understand. I really am sorry I've upset you, but," He kneels on the ground in front of you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "I am not a stalker." He's incredulous, and you're tired. At this point, what more can you do beside oblige him and his delusions. You sigh again, a deep, deep sigh that instantly drains you of the rest of your energy and makes you deflate into the couch. "Okay, Jay," You say, undressing as you stand and begin walking back to your room. "You win, you're my boyfriend. Goodnight."

Jason just happily nods as he watches you walk to bed. "Yeah, yeah, I win." He's just happy you finally came to your senses. "Night!" He happily calls after you.

[circusinthewalls]

☆ Those Simpler Sonnets ☆

Miguel is deep in the throes of his bi-monthly rut. You've quelled his voracious need for the time being, but the poor man can hardly even sleep without you. That's why he's quick to find you now, early in the morning long before the sun has even breached the horizon as you get yourself a drink of water.

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Tags: Porn With Plot, Just a little bit of plot, Like a tiny bit idk, Soft Miguel O'Hara, Feral Miguel O'Hara, Rut minus the ABO, Spider.. Instincts bullshit idk dude is just horny, AFAB Reader, My First Fanfic, god help, It's 4AM, Topping from the Bottom, Top Miguel O'Hara, One Shot, About as gender neutral as you can get with Spanish, Riding, Mutual Orgasm, Sorry if the Spanish isn't good I'm not a native speaker, Proship DNI, MDNI

a/n: This was uhh.. like not proofread at all? Also my first fic so bear with me. Tags and the fic itself are just pasted directly from ao3 because I have to be up before the sun tomorrow. Sorry for any grammar errors, but I hope you enjoy. o7 [ao3 link] [Masterlist]

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Miguel stirs in your shared bed, lazily outstretching an arm in search of your warmth. When it fails to be met with the familiar brush of your skin against his, worry sobers him, if only by a fraction. Upon cracking an eye open he realizes that you aren't in the room at all. What's more is that the door is cracked, distant light spilling in from elsewhere in the apartment. He doesn't bother to check the time, nor turn a single light on before sluggishly clambering out of bed and into the hallway. Not that he really needs to, of course. He can make out your scent growing headier with each step closer to the kitchen. 

You can hear him coming, or... sense it, rather. For a moment you pause in bringing the glass to your lips, offering a look back over your shoulder in his direction. To ensure he doesn't trip on the living room furniture, perhaps. It's not long after you cast your gaze forward again, sipping at the water in your hand, that you can feel his palms graze over your sides. They travel a languid path around to your stomach and soon settle down on your hips, pulling you back so his larger form can engulf your own. The movement makes you minutely aware of the soreness that's begun to emerge from your romping hours prior, but you pay it little mind.

Now that you're in his arms you can feel him soften significantly. You greet him with a small hum as you drink, and he gives a grunt in return. Having you near is enough to soothe his frayed nerves, evidently. He dips his head down and tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tiredly nosing along your jawline.

"Mi sol," he murmurs.

"Mm?"

"A kiss?"

A breathy chuckle slips out, but you oblige.

His lips don't stay on yours for long, though. Soon they're brushing back down your neck, just relishing the way you so graciously tilt your head off to the side. There's no stopping the groggy laugh that escapes when you can feel, no-- hear-- him sniffing you. He grumbles, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, but he can't help it. You smell so damn good, so damn perfect. 

Frankly, you can't help yourself either. The sun isn't even up yet and you're so tired, the way he's got his face pressed in against your neck, nosing and huffing-- You know he's in rut, but it takes all your strength not to burst out laughing.

Well, despite your best efforts you break anyway. With your head tipping back, you barely manage to set your glass aside on the counter to avoid dropping it as you dissolve into a fit.

It's in this moment, though, that the more instinct-driven side of Miguel's mind sees an opportunity and doesn't hesitate to take it. He bites down firm into the side of your now bared throat, releasing a low groan when he feels your giggles stutter off into a whine. This isn't the first time he's bitten you, and it certainly won't be the last. Yet still, the immediate surrender that seems to always overtake you rekindles his desires in an instant. He's all but ready to tear his boxers off and have another go at you if you'll let him, but he forces himself to relent somewhat. You'd lovingly taken the brunt of his insatiable appetite earlier in the evening as it was. Drunk off your scent or not, he'd be a fool to be so rough again so soon. 

Bringing one of his hands up from your hip to instead support your head with, he pulls off your neck. Your blood on his lips has his own rushing southward, so naturally he laves his tongue over the wound for a better taste. Cleaning and savoring you in tandem. You shudder at the feeling, another noise bubbling up, but he's quick to soothe you by peppering kisses atop the divots his teeth left behind.

"Can I?" he pleads in a whisper.

He's given you the upper hand on purpose, so you decide to tease him. While you're still in a position to, that is.

"Can you what?"

He huffs. You can feel how painfully stiff his cock is. He knows you can. Just to be sure, and maybe to get back at you, he pulls you harder back against it anyway. You snigger, but he's not in the mood to play games. If you're going to let him have you then he wants you now, not in five minutes when you're done laughing your pretty ass off again.

"Please?" he grits, but you don't miss the way the word almost teeters on being a whimper.

"You're no fun, Migs," you reply, hints of a fake pout tugging at your lips. Then you give him a playful jab with your elbow and peck on the cheek. "Of course you can."

That's all he needs.

Immediately he scoops you up and strides forth into the living room. He sets you down so he can settle on the couch, but he's soon reaching out for you again, one hand guiding you to straddle him while the other wrangles his erection free from its fabric confines. As luck would have it your patience is waning too, so while you're moving to get on top of him you tug his boxers down past his hips and off entirely. You throw your shirt off as well, and seeing as it was the only clothing concealing your gorgeous form, a satisfied growl rumbles in his chest at the sight of you. It's about the only thing that even begins to temper his growing need, second to actually being inside you.

When you've finally got your thighs planted on either side of his waist he brings a hand up to steady you while the other helps align him with your entrance. Or tries to, at least. You move his hand away, gripping his cock and holding it still so you can rut against the crown for a second, letting his pre slick up your already glistening folds further. 

He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle a groan. Fiery want is coiled so tightly in his gut that it's liable to snap if you keep this up, but he's trying his hardest not to rush you. The faint mewl you let out helps a little. God, he loves the way you sound.

Bringing his tip back to your hole again, you at last begin to sink down. His hips buck weakly, aching for more of you, but you don't allow him to properly move until he's bottomed out. Even with the dull ache from your first round, being split open by him is exquisite. You barely register the strangled moan he lets out once he's fully sheathed. Your thighs are trembling around him and you're far too focused on how full you are. You're not even sure if you can get yourself to move.

"Fuck, Miguel," you keen. "I-"

Without missing a beat he's shifting beneath you, taking hold of your hips and planting his feet apart so he can do all the work instead.

"I can do it, amor," he breathes. "Just let me, baby. Just let me."

"God-" You swallow down a whimper and nod. "Yes please."

So he starts a slow pace, beginning with gentle rolls of his hips while you adjust. When those familiar, delicate whines begin to sound he makes a point to go a little harder. Not faster, really, but there's undoubtedly more force behind each of his thrusts. His own sounds of pleasure escape with them, panted groans and even the occasional growl when his eyes flicker down to where your bodies meet, watching how well you take him.

"Look at you... Paraíso terrenal.."

He grinds up into you, and almost cums right then and there when he feels your insides flutter weakly in response. Beautiful.

"That's the spot, isn't it?" he growls. "Gonna cum for me already?"

You're far too caught up in how good everything feels to do anything but moan. That's fine, though. He can tell you're on the edge just as much as he is, and he'll be damned if he's not about to fuck you over it.

It doesn't take long, either. Minutes pass by like seconds, your orgasm creeping up faster than you'd expected. While your insides are spasming he's holding you down on him, hips stuttering as he spills himself as deep as you he can get, body curled up somewhat from the intensity of his own climax. You ride out your shared ecstasy before ultimately collapsing in a sweaty heap.

The both of you are a spent mess, but you're content. Miguel can't be bothered to pull out, but.. honestly?

You're not sure you care.

Sleeping on the couch would be a lot colder without his cock in you, anyway. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Lots of love if you write this, and lots of love if you don’t!

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Note: this is a cute idea! I might write a different version of this one later <3 not sure how I feel about it. This ended up a lot more angst and has a lot more of an argument than I originally intended tbh

Another note: I usually write in past tense but this one has both past and present tense. It’s lightly proofread but I apologize if I missed any errors in past vs present tense!

Summary: Every since he first saw you he’s seemingly had it out for you. All that frustration comes to a head when you have to go rescue him from the side of the road.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Daryl bring a Dickson, profanity, TWD typical non graphic violence, guns

        Daryl stepped into the RV for a gun, shaking his head with annoyance at the sight of your failure. Well, multiple failures. See, you started with a standard Glock, but the recoil spring in that one was too hard to set in place. Then, you switched to the Beretta, where you found your current firing pin spring issue. 

        Daryl stared down at all the bits and pieces sprawled on the table in front of you. 

        “Y’gon’ take every damn gun apart ‘til we ain’t got none when we need ‘em?” He complained. You glared. 

        “Well, excuse me if taking apart guns to clean them wasn’t my hobby of choice before shit hit the fan.” You shot back. 

        That day was the beginning of a long standing feud between the two of you. A feud that was frankly one sided. You never had a problem with the smelly hunter. In fact, you often made meager attempts at impressing him or even going as far as to be friendly. Unfortunately, you were always met with rude snark and bitterness. 

        One time, at the CDC, you had a little too much wine with dinner. You were stumbling through the hall, attempting to find the room you had previously claimed, when you had the misfortune of walking right into Daryl. 

        “Oh! I’m sorry.” You giggled. 

        “Damn it.” He grumbled with an annoyed sigh. “Can’t ya watch where the hell you’re goin’?”

        “I’m sorry, really—“ You tried to apologize again but he had no intentions of hearing it.

        “Don’t drink if ya can’t handle yourself.” He snapped. “Got the dead roamin’ the damn earth and you get shit-faced the first damn chance ya get!”

        In your drunken, emotional state, you sniffled and cried quietly to yourself that night. Why was he always so damn mean? You missed your friends and family so much, and you couldn’t even bare to think about your cat.

        When Sophia got lost everything was worse. You’d offer to help with the search and you’d always hear the same response; “I already got one little kid to look for. I don’t need two.” 

        You also tried to console him when Sophia’s body came staggering out of that barn. 

        “You’re a great tracker, Daryl. We were all just too late.” You’d say. 

        “Ain’t no we! You didn’t do shit but stay back and twiddle your fuckin’ thumbs! Get on somewhere. I don’t need your caudlin’.”

        When the farm fell, he’d always snap at you for lagging behind the group when you were on the move. You couldn’t help it. You were so tired and hungry.  

        “Keep up, damn it. Can’t afford to keep slowin’ down!” 

        When you were all clearing the prison, he wouldn’t even let you shoot. 

        “Jus’ stay back and hit the fence. Distract ‘em. You can’t shoot for shit.” 

        Since then, you reasoned to just avoid him. You’d never met anyone who could make you feel so bad about yourself. You decided to stop asking yourself why he hated you. You weren’t going to try and change it anymore. You were just going to exist the best you could, as far away from him as the prison yard would allow. 

          Which brings us to now. Inventory is your main task at the prison. Some people make it hard. Carl never checks out his weapons, nor does Daryl. But with Carl losing his mom and Daryl being such an ass, you never say anything. You just make notes on the weapons they’re most likely to take without telling you. 

        Beth sometimes grabs formula without letting you know, but taking care of a baby is hard work for a teenage girl to be doing full time. You have no intentions of nagging her. So, as usual, you just check your inventory every day and report to Rick or Hershel, usually the latter. 

        When your inventory is done for the afternoon, you decide to find Carol and help her with laundry. Maggie is on the tower today with Glenn, so she’s all by herself out there scrubbing everyone’s smelly clothes. 

        “Hey. Need some help?” You ask her, pressing your lips into a thin smile. She returns the same expression and nods. 

        “Please? For such a small group we sure go through a lot of clothes.”

        “No problem.” You say as you get down on your knees and begin scrubbing and ringing out a pair of jeans. “Jeez. These really stink.” You mumble. Carol giggles. 

        “Daryl.” She sighs. 

        “Does he ever shower?” 

        “I mean.. never would be a strong word. Rarely, though, that might be the accurate description.” She jokes. You chuckle.

        “Hey, (Y/N)?” Rick asks as he approaches you. You look up from Daryl’s stained jeans. “Could you take a car out to the main road? Daryl’s broken down out there. He can’t carry all those supplies back.” 

        “Me?” You raise your eyebrows, tossing a quick glance to Carol. If anyone is accustomed to your strained relationship with the archer, it’s her. Daryl would often complain about you to her, and she’d just as often give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder when she’d notice his harsh treatment. 

        “Well, yeah, if ya don’t mind.” Rick nods. He is a little more oblivious to how rude Daryl can be toward you, but he isn’t  blind to the visible tension the two of you share. He just assumes it was never that serious. 

        “Um.. Sure.” You shrug. A pit in your stomach is already festering, growing bigger as it feeds on your anxiety. You had been very successful at avoiding Daryl since you’d been at the prison. The only solace you find is in the fact that you had grown more confident since you guys found this place. Being in charge of inventory gave you a much needed sense of control. From there, you realized just how much you really did have control over, and soon enough the scared girl you once were had become a productive young woman. Now, you have to put that confidence to the test, facing the man who kind of stole what little faith in yourself you had to begin with. You vow to yourself that today will be the day you stand your ground to Daryl Dixon.

        You brush off your jeans and accept the keys from Rick before making your way to the vehicle parked near the gates. When you start the engine, Carl drags open one gate, then the other, and you head out. You notice Daryl right away when you make it to the main road. He’s smoking a cigarette, leaned up against the red truck he had taken into town. 

         You can’t help but wonder why he was on a run by himself to begin with. It isn’t like Rick to send anyone off on their own. Then again, knowing Daryl, it’s not that hard to figure out why he might be a solo kind of guy. 

        You pull the car up beside the truck. He glances up at the vehicle but immediately looks back down at the ground when he realizes it’s you. He makes sure to seem indifferent. 

        Instead of letting his lack of a greeting (or gratitude) phase you, you just step out of the driver’s seat and pop the trunk open before approaching the bed of the truck and beginning to transfer all of his loot into the car. When the trunk fills up, you resort to packing the back seat. 

        By the time Daryl finishes his cigarette, he notices there are a few more items still in the truck. He huffs and impatiently grabs the three items, shoving them in the back seat and slamming the door shut, mumbling something about you taking your sweet time. 

        “What was that?” You speak up before sitting back down in the driver’s seat. 

        “Move over. I’m drivin’.”

        “That’s not what you said, first of all. And no. I drove here just fine, I can drive back.” You roll your eyes. 

        “Quit bein’ difficult damn it! I’m tired. Been workin’ all day out there riskin’ my neck.” He snaps. 

        “I’ve been working too.” You shrug, sitting down and starting the engine. 

        “Scribblin’ on a clipboard ain’t nothin’ like what I do.” He argues, still standing by the driver side, waiting for you to give in and let him drive. You won’t, though. You won’t cave in and bow to him like a puppy with its tail between its legs like you used to. He lost the privilege of your kindness — or maybe cowardice — a while ago. 

        “Actually, I woke up and spent two hours on the fence impaling skulls, then I helped Hershel hoe the ground for spring crops before I scrubbed the common area of the cell block on my hands and knees. Then I did inventory, then I washed your smelly ass jeans. So, no, I don’t just scribble on a clip board.” You correct him. “And, while we’re on that subject, you’re supposed to check out your fucking weapons. Would make the scribbling part a lot easier for me.” 

        He clenches his jaw and his fists at your insubordination. 

        “I don’t know when you grew a smart ass mouth but I ain’t got time for it so quit your bitchin’ and move outta my seat.” He demands. 

        “Or you could stop wasting time and just get in the passenger seat.” You roll your eyes. 

        “God, do you ever stop bein’ such a damn burden?!” He shouts. You run your tongue over your teeth and nod. 

        “Burden?” You repeat. 

         “Yeah. A burden.” He drawls. “As in, makin’ shit harder for everyone around you.” 

        “Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully. “Okay.” 

        With that simple response, you shut off the engine, toss the keys on the ground beside him, and stand up. With your knife in your belt for protection, you start walking toward the woods. You realize that he is absolutely unbearable. You won’t subject yourself to even a five minute car ride with him. 

        “Where the hell are you goin’?!” He calls out after you. You ignore him. “C’mon, (Y/N), get in the damn car!” 

        By this point you’re blending into the trees and he’s losing sight of you. He groans and slams the car door shut, snatching the keys off the asphalt before he marches off after you. He swears when he gets his hands on you, he’s dragging you back by your ankles and cramming you in the trunk with the rest of the shit he looted today.

        “(Y/N)!” He shouts. You sigh. 

        “Fuck off! You wanted to drive so bad, be my guest! Whole car to yourself!” You call back. 

        “Quit bein’ so damn—“

        You whip around, eyes blaring with fury. 

        “So what? Burdensome? Annoying? Stupid?” You cut him off, recalling some of the insults he had bestowed upon you in the past. “I’m so fucking sick of you! All I ever did was try to be nice to you! And all you ever gave me in return was cruelty!”

         You’re shaking now. He’s stopped a few feet away from you, silent as you unleash your pent up frustrations on him. 

        “You know,” you begin, not as loud and shrilled as before. “I didn’t even want to come help you. Because I knew it would be like this. I only came because I was asked to. So you wouldn’t have to try to carry shit back to the prison and go through more trouble. I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t try to be friendly or otherwise vexing. Yet, somehow, that wasn’t good enough. If my presence alone makes you so miserable, then I’ll walk.” 

        With that, you turn around and start storming back toward the prison. 

        “(Y/N)—“ He tries to protest but it just triggers another wave of anger. 

        “What?!” You throw your hands up. “What did I ever do to you?! Just leave me alone!” You shout, turning back to him. “Why do you hate me?!” 

        “I don’t hate you!” He fires back. 

        You scoff and cross your arms. “Sure seems like it.” 

        “Well if ya would just listen to me I wouldn’t get so mad!” 

        “I’m not your fucking dog, Dixon! I shouldn’t have to listen to you for you to treat me like a human being.” 

        “Treat you like what?” He scoffs. “All I ever did was try and look out for ya! Ya can’t do anything right! How the hell am I supposed to keep ya safe if ya can’t follow a simple fuckin’ direction?”

        “Look out for me? How? By making me feel like shit about myself? Reminding me every chance you get how much you just can’t fucking stand me? You don’t treat anyone else like that. Nobody.” Your eyes are watering now. The rage is slowly wearing down into what it really is at its core: hurt. He hurt you time and time again and you always tried to make it right, even when you had done nothing wrong. Shit, (Y/N), get it together. Don’t let him see you like this. 

        “Well why the hell are ya so worried ‘bout what I think?” He asks. 

        “I don’t know!” You snap, turning away from him again. You hug yourself and sniffle. “Just leave me alone.” You beg quietly. “Go drive yourself back. I’d rather walk.” 

        He stands there silently, mouth opening and closing like he has words to say but can’t find them in his sea of thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you cry. He doesn’t even know why you piss him off so much. He does know that seeing you there, hugging yourself as your shoulders rise and fall with silent whimpers makes him feel like shit. He steps toward you slowly, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch and he retracts his arm. 

        “I don’t hate ya.” He finally speaks. When you don’t respond he realizes he has to continue. “I just don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

        “Yeah, right.” You mumble. “All you do is hurt me.”

        He swallows a dry lump. Is that true? 

        “I don’t mean to.” He insists. “I just.. Ya don’t belong in this world. You’re nice. Ya ain’t violent, you’re pret—“ He stops. Your ears perk up. Was he about to call you pretty?

         “What I’m tryin’ to say is… Ever since I first saw ya I knew ya had to be looked after — kept safe. Ya ain’t like most people. I’d feel too bad if ya… If ya got hurt.” He admits softly. You turn your head a little, peeking behind you to try and catch a glimpse of him. 

        His hand finds your shoulder again and this time you don’t shrug him away. You sniffle and wipe your eye clean of tears. 

        “So you’re mean to me to protect me?” You summarize. He realizes how stupid that must sound. 

        “I just get frustrated when I see how vulnerable ya are. Can’t clean a gun and put it back together, can’t aim to save your life, can’t—“

        “Couldn’t.” You correct him. “I couldn’t do those things, but I’ve learned how. You just haven’t been around to see it. Or encourage it.” 

        He nods. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles. “Maybe you could, uh, show me sometime.” 

        “Show you what?” You turn back to him. 

        “Dunno.” He shrugs. It’s a lot harder for him to speak freely when you’re actually looking at him. “What ya can do.”

         “Oh.” You nod. “Maybe you could stop being such an asshole.” You suggest. 

        He smirks a little. 

        “I can try.”

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[animebw]

So, I've been getting almost all my hibike euphonium knowledge from osmosis from what you say. So I wanted to know how integral to the plot is that guy some people ship kumiko with (never learned his name), not only in this season, but in the previous ones too.

Because I don't think you mentioned him at all while talking about this season, other then kumiko being tired when people think they are dating, but I have seem some people say that they did end up together bc something something hair clip in the epilogue?

Also wanted to know if they dropped or dealt with the Reina crush on the teacher thing

You do seem to cherish this show a lot, so I do wanted to check it out myself, but these two things are the only things holding me back at this moment

So here's what actually happens: in the original novels, Kumiko and Shu get together at the end. Unambiguously. She confesses, he gives her the hairclip back, it's a whole big scene.

In the show, Shuichi has maybe twenty lines of dialogue across the entire final season, not a single of which has romantic implications or framing, he has a single line of dialogue in the entire final episode, and then we see Kumiko has the hairpin in the epilogue but it's not commented upon and Shuichi is never seen again.

Last week when episode 12 aired, the original author Ayano Takeda posted on Twitter that she was happy with the changes KyoAni made, and she encouraged fans to appreciate her novels and KyoAni's adaptation as equally valid interpretations of the same story. There was, however, a follow-up tweet where she further clarified that she had the final say on any changes the show made, and if Hanada or Ishihara or whoever proposed a change she wasn't fond of, it was ultimately her call whether to let it happen or not. So what this feels like to me? Is a compromise. A compromise between Takeda's original vision and KyoAni just very obviously not giving a single shit about Kumiko and Shuichi as a couple.

Now, KyoAni's been changing things in Eupho ever since the first season, and in fact, most of their shows diverge pretty heavily from the source material. And since I haven't read the original novels, I only have secondhand knowledge on what KyoAni added or took away. But what I have heard is that while all of Kumiko and Reina's subtext is still there in the novels, Shuichi has a far more visible role in Kumiko's life, with many more scenes dedicated to them as a romantic subplot. In fact, I've heard there were a few scenes in season one between Kumiko and Reina that were originally between Kumiko and Shuichi in the novels. I can't confirm if that's true or not, but frankly, it would not surprise me one bit.

Obviously, I don't know the reasoning behind the decisions KyoAni made. But looking at Hibike as a whole, it feels like they looked at this story with a pretty standard het relationship subplot and realized there was actually a far more compelling love story lurking just underneath the surface, one that Takeda herself didn't seem to realize was as special as it was. So when they turned it into an anime, they made the conscious choice to downplay Shuichi's role as much as possible and cash all their chips on centering her relationship with Reina as the real heart and soul of the story. And over the course of nine years, they supported that story as much as they could, finding every way possible to prioritize them in the narrative and frame them with the cinematic language they've deployed for so many straight couples in the past, while simultaneously refusing to give Kumiko even a single moment where she appears romantically interested in Shuichi.

And I want to stress that last point in particular: outside of that one scene in the Year 2 movie where Shuichi almost kisses her, every single interaction Kumiko's had with the idea of being in a relationship with Shuichi has been "Oh HELL no." She's constantly avoiding him in their first year, she can barely work up the effort to be civil to him while they're actually dating, and it's only after they break up that they're able to be on good terms with each other as friends. Even in this final season, there hasn't been a single moment where it's felt like either of them were considering getting back together. Shuichi's just been happy to support her, and Kumiko feels comfortable around him for the first time ever, and that's the extent of it. It's only the comments from the first years that suggest anything about a romantic subplot still ongoing between them, but none of that is reflected in any of their onscreen moments.

Like, even putting Kumirei aside, there is just no romantic tension between them anymore. Not even in a "Wow, where did that romantic moment come from? That was so forced out of nowhere!" sort of situation- the love story between them is completely nonexistent at this point. The only evidence in this entire fucking season that they start dating again is Kumiko having the hairpin in the epilogue (which, side note, hasn't been brought up all season either), which, frankly, is so open to interpretation that Bandai's shareholders are salivating in jealousy. Sure, maybe it does mean Shuichi asked her again and she accepted, but it could just as easily mean he gave it to her free of charge and accepted she didn't think of him that way. Or it could even mean he gave it to her and said something like "Once Reina finally gets turned down by Taki-sensei, make sure you give this to her, I think it'll be put to far better use that way." And frankly, that last interpretation is way more supported by the show I just watched than simply them getting back together.

The point is, KyoAni does not care about Kumiko and Shuichi getting together. It has never cared about Kumiko and Shuichi getting together. Honestly, my crack theory is the reason they sped through Kumiko's second year in a movie is to get through her Dating Shuichi arc as fast as humanly possibly. But Takeda clearly does care about them getting together, considering that's what happened in the novels. And I suspect that's one thing she decided not to budge on when they were in conversations discussing the changes KyoAni wanted to make. So to compromise, KyoAni put in the barest minimum effort to suggest things technically played out like they did in the novels- "Look, she's got his hairpin! That means they got back together!"- while refusing to spend a single solitary second on it beyond that and removing any explicit confirmation so everyone who doesn't care about them as a couple- KyoAni included- can interpret it otherwise and be fully justified in doing so.

Because from start to finish, through the entirety of this season, the love story that stood at the center of everything was Kumirei. Every last plot beat, every last thematic throughline, every last bit of swelling music and romantic framing and effort spent making you root for two people to stay together, it was always them and no one else. Even the big change they made in episode 12 where Kumiko loses the soli only further cements their story as the story of this show, with Reina's utter devastation at losing her only confirming just how special Kumiko was to her in a way not even Taki-sensei truly measures up to. I've said it in the past, but even moreso now than ever, it is impossible to look at the arc of Hibike Euphonium and not see a love story between these two girls, a story about just how fucking much they mean to each other and all the reasons their connection was something unlike anything else on this earth.

And if you choose to see it as a story of Kumiko and Shuichi getting together instead? Then you are actively fighting against what the show is communicating to you every second of every episode. You are, in fact, the delusional shipper inventing a romantic subplot where none exists. You are everything that yuri shippers are accused of being when they choose to actively engage with the text as it exists and not as you imagine it to be. Because as open-ended as the ending is, as straight as it pretends to be, it is far easier to imagine a future where Kumiko and Reina reunite as lovers than a future where she somehow falls for the guy she's never shown any interest in before. Frankly, if I was a Shuichi truther I'd feel pretty insulted by this ending! "What do you mean their entire subplot is cut out and it's only half-assedly implied in the epilogue that it totally happened offscreen? What is this bullshit?!"

This is why I chafe so strongly against the queerbaiting label. I watched three seasons of BBC Sherlock, I know full well what queerbaiting looks like. But a love story like this does not happen out of malice. It only happens because every single person involved, from animators to voice actors to directors and everyone in between, believes in it so strongly that they're willing to push as hard as they can to make it as real as physically possible within the limitations at their disposal. Kumirei is Hibike. Their story is Hibike. And if KyoAni can't convince Takeda to let them embrace it fully, well, they can at least wrestle her to a stalemate that allows that interpretation to still be possible- and, even, more plausible than the direction she initially took it down.

Adaptation is an art of making changes. It requires a text to stand on its own, fully apart from whatever source it sprang from. And KyoAni in particular has always embraced the philosophy of treating adaptation not as a one-to-one copy machine like so many of its contemporaries, but an opportunity to build something entirely new. All of its shows are, first and foremost, shows before they're translations of their source material, works of art designed to be taken as wholly complete experiences however much they resemble their inspirations or not. In Hibike! Euphonium the novel series, Kumiko and Shuichi are canon. In Hibike! Euphonium the TV show? It's flat out impossible to come to that same conclusion unless you're dead-set on believing what you want to believe, evidence be damned. And if you're so obsessed with this mid het ship that you choose to ignore the single greatest love story of all time to pretend it's more plausible, then you're simply an idiot who's opinions aren't worth engaging with.

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

— 02. sweet nothing

“they said the end is comin', everyone’s up to somethin', i find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings. outside, they’re push and shovin', you're in the kitchen hummin', all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'”

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“join us for a jam sesh later? we can show them the song, rest of the boys are going to be there.” the end of that sentence is laced with a tinge of bitterness, and eita likes to think that it’s hidden behind a forced cough and a minuscule amount of cellphone static.

he wants to show off what you’ve been working on because he’s proud, he always is, but as much as he refuses to admit it, he wants you all to himself just as it’s always been since the beginning. if inviting you over to band practice (“we’re not a band, we just play together sometimes and perform my songs at gigs”) with the guys is what it takes to see you, or hell, even just hear from you, he’ll make do.

the lyrics of the song are really sweet, he thinks it might be the first love song you’ve written fully. a part of him wonders what, or rather who, inspired you to write it, but perhaps it’s not his place to know. it won’t stop a part of him from wishing it was him though, and frankly he’s not sure what to make of that information just yet.

you had a rough skeleton of an idea for the instrumentals but pretty much gave him free reign with this one which he’s not going to say no to, making sure to sprinkle in a little bit of his own taste into it — heavier instruments are more of his forte, having countless alternative and rock musicians listed as his personal inspirations. the final product's a fine mix of you and him, perfectly balanced and no more of one or the other. he’s very proud of it, proud of you, as with everything that you do together.

his thumb hovers over the send button, the preview of his short voice message looping while he contemplates deleting it. it’s starting to get grating with how long it’s been going for, his pathetic voice doing nothing but making him overthink even more. he doesn’t know if he’s being presumptuous to imagine it but it seems like you’re... avoiding him?

it’s been more than a week with barely any texts or random voice memos, you're usually blowing up his phone with silly memes and song demos, or even as simple as asking how his day has been. nothing since the last time he came over and finished the song with you. he noticed something seemed up at the time but didn’t press, now the guilt eats at him for not at least trying to ask. you always did keep your troubles to yourself, preferring to handle them on your own and keeping him in the dark about it until it either got too much and eventually bubbled past the surface, or fizzled over and only coming out casually in conversation once it’s a thing of the past. but who's he to judge, he's not any better.

maybe he’s reading too much into it, you’ll tell him with time as you always do, right? maybe he’s blowing it out of proportion, maybe you just had a bad day before seeing him, or you’re just tired, or— enough, now i’m just overthinking again.

finally releasing his bottom lip from the onslaught of his teeth, he bites the bullet and hits send, tossing his phone on his nightstand. as he lays back down on the stiff mattress, the arm thrown over his face shields the glaring sunlight breaming down on his face. it’s way too bright in comparison for the thoughts swirling in his head and with a sigh, he uses the foot hanging off his bed to tug the curtains close.

give her time, she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

i just hope she’s okay.

well shit.

the realisation that there even a slight possibility that you're in love with eita hits you like a splash of ice cold water to the face. you won’t lie and say that you didn’t have your suspicions, but it’s been just so long, brushing it off as the closeness of childhood friends. he’s your best friend, the first one you contact with good news, the first name that comes to mind when asked to invite a plus one, the first person you think of when you see those tiktoks of lovesick poems captioned “who do you picture when you read this?”, the list goes on.

in some way or another, this is what you always wanted, someone who understands your ins and outs and to spend your years with. eita was always the only option you’ve considered, but god you’re scared.

you feel a little sick to your stomach, the thought of it all weighing too heavily on your mind. there’s just too much at stake here, and you’re hell bent on not letting whatever the hell these damned feelings are jeopardise years of what you’ve built together. unknowingly in a similar spot, you find yourself curled up in bed, head swimming with worst case scenarios and make-believe narratives that say this is doomed for disaster.

light knocks on your door gently pluck you from the stirring storm in your head and with an muffled “i’m coming in!”, hitoka shuffles into your room and audibly coos at your deposition.

“hey, you left your phone out on the counter and it went off a couple times. i think semi messaged you too, thought you might want to see it.”

speak of the devil.

with a small smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching your eyes, you take your phone from her hand with a mix of gratitude and dread, “thanks hitoka. i- can i ask you something?”

“yeah what’s up? everything okay?” she sits by your side, her pretty, youthful features plagued with concern.

the posters on your wall suddenly seem like the most interesting things in the room, your eyes meekly darting around and refusing to meet hers. a wave of embarrassment washes over you from head to toe as you mull over your thoughts, collecting and trying to put them into words without sounding like a total idiot. this is stupid, you open your mouth for a moment and close it in the next, the words stuck in your throat and you’re already regretting bringing it up. you’re not ready for this conversation as much as you want to and it festers and grows and feeds on the seeds of doubt sprouting.

her small, smooth uncalloused hand closes over the back of yours in assurance and comfort, the small action causing a surge of peace and calm to flow through you, “it’s about him, isn’t it?”

nodding in shame, you hesitantly speak up, quietly, “hypothetically if i did have feelings for him—what if he doesn’t feel the same way? i won’t be able to look at him again.”

hitoka sighs dramatically, “first off, it’s a hundred percent not hypothetical who are you even kidding, surely not me. second, have you seen the way he looks at you? i’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner.”

when you remain silent, she takes it as a cue to continue, squeezing your hand, “listen, i don’t know him as well as you do by a long shot, but i know feelings when i see it, and that man is very into you. and don’t even come at me with that ‘but we’re best friends’ bullshit, you don’t act that way with kenma and vice versa.”

you stifle a laugh at that last part, feeling a little tension release from your muscles after listening to her perspective. she’s nothing but truthful and supportive especially when it comes to anything (especially serious) concerning you and your heart swirls with warmth that you have someone like her to talk to about these things, the boys aren’t much help but you still love them dearly.

“i’ve been running away from him for days, i haven’t spoken to him since the last time he came over.” you mumble, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling, eyes fixed on the rotating fan and letting it blur in your vision as your hand still remains clasped in hitoka’s.

you feel the weight of guilt on your shoulders for shutting him out so abruptly, the sudden rush of feelings leaving you dumbfounded in its wake. your instinct was to hide and let it pass, hoping he wouldn’t catch on, but you never stopped to consider what it might look like to him. truthfully, the longest you’ve ever been apart was when your family went on holidays overseas, never if you could help it — you miss him.

remembering that he sent a message, you opened it up, letting the sound of his voice flit through the still air within your four walls. it sends a tingle down your spine and causes a soft involuntary smile to stretch across your lips, it’s like music to your ears.

“i swear to god, you two are disgusting.” hitoka lightheartedly complains as she rolls her eyes, getting up to leave you be. “go see your man before i throw up.”

“shut up, it’s not like we’ll be alone!” you retort, flipping her off as she’s shutting the door with a click, hearing a yeah yeah yeah echo down the hall.

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. hi it’s been a while since we've seen our two blindly lovesick pals :3 no fun facts this time, just a little filler chapter !! they’re so stupid and lovesick PLEASE— also band lineup in the next one ! big love to @mikiruie for beta reading < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[hearts401]

A Shitty Brother Kinda Christmas

(7,441 words)

Evan invites Michael over for Christmas after not speaking to him for over two years now. Shenanigans ensue

Michael was cold.

He was also annoyed and bored and excited and the slightest bit nervous.

But right now, he was just cold.

He was sitting out in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus that had either already come or was nearly a half an hour late.

He was praying it was the latter.

It didn’t help that he’d had literally no time to prepare. Evan had called him at six in the morning and he’d had to rush to find a gift and means for transportation and it didn’t help that everything was closed for Christmas. So he’d thrown on the only coat he had and went for the first bus he could catch. Now he was stuck out in the snow waiting for a bus that might not even arrive.

But some things were worth getting hypothermia for.

Unfortunately for Michael, this was not feeling like one of those things. But it was a second chance, and he’s fucked up too much to give up on a second chance. Frankly, when Evan had asked for his number, he’d already expected not to hear from him ever again, and he’d made peace with that. As much peace as he could at least. It wasn’t something he thought about a lot, and he doubted Evan thought about it much either.

But today his head’s been full of it, as unpleasant as that is.

When the bus finally pulled up, the driver assured him that the snow was what caused the delay, and apologized profusely. Michael didn’t care, he was just glad it came at all.

The bus was almost entirely empty, which made his life a lot easier. He clicked on his phone, not that there was anything to look at. It was Christmas, after all.

When Evan had invited him, he’d known it would be disappointing to Jeremy; He always looked forward to Christmas, but he promised they’d have their own little Christmas when he got back, but this was the first time he’d spoken to Evan in… Forever. His little brother had a house for god’s sake! A house! And he lived with his friend! That friend who’d punched Michael, the friend who always let Evan stay over his house, the friend he’d totally definitely not gotten into a fist fight with more than once all because of his own stubborn attitude.

So yeah, Michael was a jerk. But in his defense, Gregory was stubborn too.

His phone pinged and he picked it up. It was Evan again. Geez, why did he keep calling? Michael had already agreed, he didn’t want to talk to him right now, not yet.

But he can’t keep putting it off, and he doesn’t wanna seem like he’s avoiding Evan. (Even though he is, technically.)

“Hello? Hello, hello?” He said, “What’s up?”

“It’s me.” Evan said, “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay? I’m really sorry it’s such short notice.”

“It’s whatever.” Michael replied, “The bus was late though.”

“It’s Christmas, that’s expected.” Evan replied.

This was weird. Not a bad weird, but not a good weird either.

“Yeah.” Is all he said, “Uhm, is there anything else you need? The service here is ass.”

“Uh, no, I was calling to tell you if the bus hadn’t come to just forget it because I didn’t want you to keep waiting. It’s cold outside.”

“No shit.” He said with a dry laugh, “I’m gonna go now. Bad service, you know how it is.”

“Oh? O-Okay, yeah, bye.” Evan said.

“Bye.” Michael said before hanging up and sitting back against the seat.

“Shitty service?” He mumbled to himself, “Idiot.”

“Well, that sucked.” Elizabeth said. She was hanging decorations she’d brought since their house wasn’t “Christmas ready” in her words.

“He’s probably just tired.” Charlie said, “I’m sure he’s happy you invited him.”

“Well maybe the invitation isn’t what’s got him in the dumps and maybe it’s more the timing?” Elizabeth said.

Evan shrunk back, “I really didn’t notice how close it was getting to Christmas, I just… I couldn’t decide if I wanted to invite him…”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Fair, I guess. I usually invite him over but he spends his Christmas with his friends a lot.”

“His friends?” Charlie asked, “Jeremy?”

“And those other kids from middle school.”

Evan scrunched up his nose, “He still hangs out with those guys?”

“Yeah?” Elizabeth climbs down the small step ladder she was on, “They’re his friends.”

Evan huffs, “Yeah, I know.” He mutters.

Charlie offers a small smile at him, nudging him, “He’s not bringing any of them, it’s just him, Ev.” She says, “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

“Hey, Evan?” Gregory calls from the other room where he’s helping Sammy set up for dinner.

“O-oh, yeah?”

“Why does Michael do that weird ‘hello? Hello, hello?’ thing?”

Evan blinked, “I… I don’t know, actually.”

“Oh my god he does that all the time I don’t think he even realizes it!” Elizabeth said, “It drives me insane!”

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, Sammy says he does it every time he calls him.”

“He does!” Sammy said, “Every time. I asked him about it once and he was just as confused as me! He just does it. It’s like an instinct.”

Gregory laughed too, “That is funny as hell I’m never letting him live that down.”

“Oh, speaking of living things down,” Evan hopped off his bed and headed to the kitchen, “You’re gonna be on your best behavior. If you and him fight, I’m sticking you both outside.”

“If you put me outside with him I’ll bury him alive in the snow.” Gregory said.

“I’m serious.” Evan said, “I don’t want you fighting with him.”

It’s not that Evan didn’t appreciate Gregory standing up for him, but it was stressful. He didn’t want his friend hurt for him, and he certainly didn’t want to spend Christmas breaking up his brother and his best friend.

Gregory looked over at Evan, “Yeah, of course.” He said, “No fighting.”

“And that means no punching, kicking, swearing, snapping, pushing, shoving-”

“Okay, okay, okay, no fighting.” Gregory said, “But he needs to back off sometimes, I’m gonna let him know.”

“I can let him know.” Evan said, “We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a family!”

They all turned to look at him.

“We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a… decent dysfunctional patchwork family…” He rephrased, “I-I guess.”

Gregory laughed at that, “It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”

“I wish you could’ve invited Nessa,” Evan said, “I’m sure she’d have loved to meet Mike.”

When Michael finally arrived, he was met with the entire house laughing at him. Even Evan couldn’t hide his amusement at seeing his brother pull up to his house soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.

“You look great.” Sammy said.

“Piss off.” Michael muttered.

“Come inside, you look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” Charlie said.

“I feel like it too.” Michael muttered.

They brought him inside and Evan found himself suddenly regretting every decision that led up to this.

He felt sick, and he realized with a shock that there was a reason he had avoided Michael. He didn’t know what to say to him, what to do with him, or what to talk about. What do you say to your big brother who you ghosted for nearly two years after getting his number? What do you say to the person who ruined your life? What do you say to the person who treated you like shit and almost killed you and only formally apologized a couple years ago?

Gregory must have noticed because he discreetly led Evan back to his room and sat down with him.

“Not ready?” He asked.

“Not at all.” He said, flopping onto his back.

“What is it?” Gregory asked, laying down beside him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in forever and I was cool with that but then we did talk again and then we split up again and I just… How can I never speak to him again after that? How can I not give him at least a chance to be better? But at the same time… I don’t want to talk about The Thing, and I don’t want to bring it up but I can’t move on if I don’t and I feel sick thinking about it because what if it goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? What if he fucks it up? What if all this bullshit was for nothing this whole time and I’m just gonna end up hating him more than I already do?”

Gregory listens intently, staring at Evan, “You know, I told you not to invite him.”

“I know but-”

He continues speaking, interrupting Evan, “But! You insisted. Why?”

“Because I want to give him another shot.” Evan said.

“And he came because…” Gregory raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Because he wants to take that shot.” Evan said, slowly understanding.

“So, you want to give him a chance? You don’t have you, you don’t owe anything to him, especially forgiveness. Do you wanna cut this short? Nobody would blame you if you did. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Evan sits up, “I guess.”

Gregory smiles, “Why don’t you take some time, dinner’s not done yet. Nobody’s rushing you, and I’m sure Michael is just as nervous. The only difference is that he deserves it.”

Evan laughs a bit at that, “Be nice.” He said.

“No promises!” Gregory called as he walked out of the room.

Frankly, Gregory was right. Michael was just as nervous. In fact, he wanted to curl up in a ball and sink into a hole and die right about now. He didn’t know where to sit so he ended up standing awkwardly off to the side.

Unfortunately for him, Sammy was quick to act like he owned the place. Gregory and him were like siblings, to be fair.

“Come on Mike, sit down.” Sammy said, “What’s wrong, are you nervous?”

“No. Not at all.” He muttered, “I just prefer standing.”

“Yeah, well, you look out of place with the Christmas decorations and I need to take photos so unless you wanna be my santa clause, I suggest you move.” Elizabeth said.

“You're as blunt as ever.” He muttered.

“Thanks, I try my best.” She replied with a grin.

He sat down next to Sammy, pulling out his phone, only to have Charlie grab it away from him, ignoring the indignant noise he made.

“Aw, Jeremy? Are you guys dating yet?” She teased.

“Wha- no! Give that back!” He lunged, reaching for it, but she snatched it away too quickly.

“Come on, Mike, you’ve gotta have something interesting in your life, how’s my dad?”

“Uncle Henry’s doing fine.” He answered as he continued to chase her around, “Give it back Charlie!”

“What pictures do you have? Aw, is that your dog?” Charlie pulled up a picture.

“No, it’s Jeremy’s! Now give it back!”

“What’s its name?” She asked.

Michael looked over at Elizabeth and exaggeratedly gestured at Charlie, but she just laughed at him.

“She missed messing with you, this is your own fault.” She said.

“She’s right, messing with Evan isn’t as fun. He doesn’t get mad like you do.” Charlie said.

Michael scowled at her, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a lot better though. 

When Gregory and Evan returned, Michael offered a smile and a small wave at Evan, that his brother slowly returned.

Evan was pale, but Michael didn’t mention it; He probably was too. Although that could just be from sitting out in the snow for half an hour.

He was still a bit upset about that.

Elizabeth invited him to sit beside her, which ended up sticking him right beside Evan, who had Gregory on his other side, who had Sammy next to him, and then Charlie beside him, and then it came full circle back to Elizabeth.

Great, cool, cool cool cool cool cool. This could go one of two ways:

One, it goes horrible and awful and everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Or two, it goes fine and Michael’s overreacting.

But he could tell Evan was uncomfortable, and the tension was uncomfortable for him as well.

He took a breath before standing abruptly, “Actually, I ate at home and I could totally just grab a hotel or something so I’m gonna-”

“You’re not leaving.” Evan said.

Michael turned to him, “I’m sorry what?”

Evan shrunk back, “I-I just mean- you can stay here. Uhm… Unless you really don’t want to which is fine but you know you should stay here with us because it’ll make it easier and honestly who sleeps in a hotel on Christmas Eve I mean-”

“Okay! Okay. That- we can do that, that’s fine.” Michael said. He sat back down slowly, staring hard at his plate.

“And I can tell you didn’t eat at home.” Evan said, “I don’t like that you’re lying to me.”

Michael doesn’t reply to that, shrugging.

Evan’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything else. Gregory leans in next to him and whispers something, though.

So it went bad. Not awful, but bad. Michael didn’t eat much, but the food was good. Henry knew how to cook, and it seemed like he’d taught the twins how to cook as well.

Elizabeth leans back in her chair, “So, now that we’ve invited Michael, who wants to send a call to dear old dad? I have his number.”

Evan groans, “Not again with this…”

“Please, please Evan it would be so funny please.” Gregory shot up in his chair, “Please you didn’t let me do it to Michael let me do it to your dad.”

“Do what to Michael?” Michael asked.

“They wanted me to prank call you guys and send you random shit. Gregory, my dad will find and kill us all. I hope you know that.”

Prank call his dad? Prank call the William Afton?

“No wait I like this idea, Ev, we should do it one hundred percent.” Michael said.

“See? He agrees.” Elizabeth said.

Evan rolled his eyes, “You guys are the worst.”

“We’re the best actually.” Charlie said, “And it’s uhhhh… five against one.”

Evan sighed, “Do what you want. I need to set up our room anyway.”

Charlie cheered.

“I actually think I’m still in his contacts.” Michael said, “He keeps texting me, I don’t read 'em though.” He didn’t tell them that he repeatedly hesitated and refused to block his dad for a reason he himself couldn’t fathom. But to be fair, Lizzie hadn’t blocked him either. In fact, she still messaged him back sometimes. Even if the conversations weren’t friendly, he couldn’t imagine talking to his dad ever again, he didn’t know how she did it. 

“And we don’t wanna start today, let’s use Charlie’s phone.” Sammy said.

They spent the night sending random images to William until he blocked them, and then they went on to relentlessly call Jeremy, who had apparently been asleep, before they went on to call Gregory, and stayed on call with him while he and Evan set up.

It was weird how normal this was. It was weird how quickly it had become just spending Christmas together instead of unloading 15 years of bullying and 21 years of loathing.

But then again, they were the Afton family, pretending to be normal was their whole thing. They did it for the first eighteen years of Michael’s life.

But he could sit back and enjoy this before the incredibly uncomfortable conversation that was inevitable. If him and Evan would quit avoiding it.

Gregory then came in to let them know the room was ready.

Sitting down in Evan’s house was one thing. Sleeping in it was a whole other thing. He felt like a teen again, when his dad was in the hospital for one of his springlock accidents and Michael had to stay with Henry while he was gone. That had sucked. His dad hadn’t wanted to bring him over Henry’s house, so he hardly knew Charlie and Sammy, and because of that he’d felt so out of place in their house. Not to mention his siblings were there, and by then he was sick to death of them.

Thinking back on it, he did have a lot of issues as a kid. Maybe he still had them. Who was he to dwell on it, though.

Michael Afton has issues, like that’s news.

This time he made a point to sit beside Elizabeth. She wasn’t the best choice, but she was the only one who still messaged him. Despite how she acted, she always wanted a family. But she got the Aftons, which is more like a classification than a family.

She gave him a disappointed look, but he ignored it.

The decorations in the room were really cool. They had lights strung up on the walls and they’d put up blankets to hang over them, as well as covering up the window. The floor was layered with blankets and pillows, and Michael noticed it looked like a nest.

He had taught Evan how to make nest-like pillow forts when he was only four. Michael had been seven, and hadn’t even been good at teaching, but Evan had really enjoyed it. Michael hadn’t enjoyed teaching him, but it kept the kid quiet and that’s all he’d needed. But this fort was obviously not a product of his teaching, since it was unlikely Evan remembered that.

Weird that he’d remember that. It felt like a karmic “fuck you” from the universe.

Evan was really enjoying this. He didn’t feel as anxious anymore, and it felt almost normal. He had been preoccupied with everything else to think about The Thing and it made him feel a lot better about it. He was also proud of the pillow fort, which Gregory had helped with a lot. They’d had it planned for a while, and he was glad it turned out so well.

Good food, good bed, good friends, and so far no issues with Michael. None that he wanted to talk about yet, at least.

This was a good day! A great day! And hopefully a great Christmas day would follow!

He was quick to pull his friends into it and talk to them about it. He loved how cozy it looked. Like a shiny little nest. It was awesome and he loved it so much.

“Wait. Wait! I need my camera!” He went out to the kitchen, “Gregory? Do you know where I put my camera?”

“I put it in the end table drawer! The bottom one, next to the couch!” Gregory called back.

“Awesome. Thank you!” He grabbed it and ran back into the room, “Mike get in the back you’re the tallest, Gregory and Charlie, I need you guys up front. Elizabeth, get closer to Mike, come on. Sammy, you’re perfect there don’t move. It’s on a ten second timer so hold that for a moment!”

He ran over to them, positioning himself beside Michael and behind Gregory.

He went to grab his camera when it was done, smiling at the picture, “It looks awesome, I can’t wait to print it.” He said.

The others crowded over to see.

“You’re pretty good at sitting still and looking pretty.” Charlie teased Michael, “It’s your one redeeming quality.”

Michael shoved her face away with his hand, “Oh piss off.”

“He said the thing again!” Sammy cheered, “He said it earlier too. I feel like I’m in England every time I talk to him.”

“Did I tell you guys about that time Evan screamed ‘you cunt’ at the top of his lungs?” Gregory said.

“No! No! You promised you wouldn’t tell them about that!” Evan wails, grabbing Gregory’s arm.

“He was playing a racing game or something and he just lost big time. Huge time. Horribly. Awful. It was embarrassing.”

“Gregory!”

“And he just shouted at the top of his lungs. In the most British I’ve ever heard him, it was insane.” Gregory continues, “He had to apologize to our neighbors. It was hilarious.”

Evan covered his face, “It was awful, I felt so bad.” He groaned.

Michael chuckled, “That’s funny, Lizzie was always the one who used British slang. She got it from our father.”

Elizabeth shoved him playfully, “Okay Mr. I-Say-Bloody-Hell-And-Piss-Off-Every-Five-Seconds.”

“Pi- leave me alone!” Michael said indignantly.

“He almost said it again!” Charlie said, laughing.

“Jeez, you people are impossible.” He said.

At that moment, his phone rang. “Oh, shit, it’s Jeremy. I’ll be right back!”

Evan watched Michael leave, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Gregory nudged him, “Feel better?”

“A bit… Thanks.” He answered.

Gregory smiled, “I told you it’d be okay.”

Evan nodded, “I’m stressing out a bit still but I do feel better. Maybe I was just overreacting.”

“Mike is being super weird though.” Elizabeth said, “He’s not usually like this with his friends.”

“Well duh,” Charlie said, “he’s overthinking just as much as Evan is. He’s just shit at hiding it because he’s not a ball of fear and sadness the way Evan is.”

Evan frowned, “Well I wish he’d just act normal. I don’t like that he keeps lying to me. He makes everything harder than it has to be.”

Charlie hummed, “He’s just scared. Like a little animal in the woods.”

Evan couldn’t stop his sudden and loud laughter at that.

But he did feel angry. He wasn’t going to say it, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say it, but he felt it. Michael wasn’t even trying.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” He told Gregory.

Michael knew the call wasn’t Jeremy. He also knew it would end long before he wanted it to. It’d been one of his friends from middle school, and they had hung up several minutes ago. But he liked the silence while it lasted.

“So, you’re avoiding me?” Evan asked from directly beside him. 

Michael jumped with a shout, nearly falling off the couch.

“Jesus Christ, Evan!” He gasped, “Don’t do that!”

Evan didn’t react, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Sitting… on the couch?”

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked like Dad when he did that.

“No, actually,” he said, “you’re being a bum. Alone on Christmas? Come on, we’re heading to bed now.”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

They spent the night doing random things. Charlie told some scary stories, they watched a movie, Michael showed them his playing card collection and Evan beat Gregory at war at least ten times, and Elizabeth got a whole console out and they played a few different games.

Of course, the tension did not leave. Everytime he accidentally bumped into Evan or one of them said something a little too… Iffy… it only got thicker.

When he looked over at his little brother, he noticed he was asleep. Him and everyone else.

Well, except for one.

“Can’t sleep?” Gregory asked.

Michael shrugged, “Who can sleep on Christmas Eve?”

Gregory eyed the others, “Them, apparently.”

Michael chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

They fell silent, and Michael laid down on his back, staring at the blankets hung above him.

“You know I don’t want you here, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But he does. Don’t ruin that for him. Or Elizabeth. She said she’s been trying to get you to come over for Christmas.”

Michael stares at him, “I don’t talk to her a lot, I thought she was just being nice.”

“She was.” Gregory said, “I don’t doubt she was. But she still likes talking to you. I don’t know, don’t you think maybe she actually cared if she asked every year?”

Michael scoffed, “I told her every year that I spend my Christmas with Jeremy. Or Henry.”

“Speaking of Henry, what’s he doing for Christmas if Charlie and Sammy aren’t there?”

Gregory sat up, “Charlie said He remarried or something.”

“Really?” Michael said, “That’s… He didn’t tell me that…”

“I might be wrong but that’s what I heard.”

 “Hm.”

Gregory looked over at him, “You’re kind of a loser, you know that?”

Michael stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

Gregory shushed him, “You’re gonna wake them up, shut your mouth!” He hissed.

Michael flopped over on his back, still laughing, though he tried to keep quiet, “You are incredibly blunt.”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t particularly like you very much,” Gregory said.

“I can tell.”

When Gregory heard him go quiet, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Lightweight.”

Evan woke up with a pillow being chucked at his face the moment he sat up.

So he stayed down.

But he could hear Charlie and Michael laughing.

Michael sounded like he’d been doing this for a while, and Charlie kept squealing. The noise was quickly giving him a headache, but it made him feel better about the day, and that’s all he needed anyways.

The day?

Holy shit it’s Christmas.

Evan bolted upright, “It’s Christmas.”

Gregory laughed, “Yeah, it is.”

Elizabeth threw herself on Evan and pulled him into a hug, “Morning sleepyhead!” She said, “You’re the last one to wake up.”

“We’ve been waiting forever.” Sammy groaned, “So I started chucking pillows at you and seeing if you’d wake up.”

“I told him not to.” Gregory said.

Evan smiled, “You guys are amusing. Has anyone made breakfast?”

Charlie points at Michael, “I told him to.”

Michael pushes her finger away from his face, “And I told her that I have not cooked something edible since I was 15.”

Elizabeth shuddered, “That lasagna was not edible.”

“Har har har.” Michael muttered, “at least I tried.”

Charlie sat up, “Me and Sammy made dinner, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I vote Greg does it.” Sammy said.

“What? Why me?” Gregory whined, “I always do it!”

“I’ll make it.” Evan said.

“I’ll come help.” Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

She grabbed Michael’s arm, “I’ll show you what edible actually means.”

Charlie waved Michael goodbye with a smirk on her face as he scowled.

Evan took out the stupid cinnamon rolls in the weird circle can thingy? He didn’t know anything about them but they were good so who cares.

Michael frowned, “This is breakfast?”

“You look like you live off ramen noodles, shut up and enjoy Christmas dinner as it should be.” Evan said.

Michael blinked a few times.

“… You don’t… You don’t actually live off noodles, do you?”

“…”

So Evan learned several unpleasant things about Michael’s eating habits.

But so far, so good. He’d only felt soul crushing anxiety twice since Michael got here!

So… Good?

He wasn’t sure but it wasn’t bad so that had to mean something.

Despite joking around, Evan was a bit irritated. Michael was still being weird and it didn’t help that Elizabeth clearly didn’t understand the tension.

“You two are too quiet, come on, it’s Christmas.” She said, “Loosen up!”

“I’m just tired, Liz.” Evan said.

She flicked his forehead, earning a yelp from Evan.

“Well, don’t be, it’s Christmas!”

He didn’t like how much this reminded him of home. He didn’t like that this reminded him of his sister avoiding and ignoring his problems or his brother never listening to him.

They were all so different, but some things never change.

Unpleasantly, his mind drifted to his dad. But he pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t know why he always thought of his dad when he talked to his siblings.

“Evan, it’s done.” Elizabeth said, “Do you wanna frost it?”

Evan nodded, “While they’re still hot.”

She smiled at him, “Then we can open gifts? You’re gonna love what I got you, I promise.”

No, his siblings were nothing like his dad. No doubt they have pieces of him in them—No doubt Evan did too—But they were not him.

Maybe he could learn to live with those pieces. He’d done it with Elizabeth.

But it was just so much harder with Michael. Even now, when they were laughing and pretending to be okay, he felt dissatisfied. He wanted more than this, he wanted reassurance that his brother actually wanted to change and didn’t just feel bad. What if Michael was doing this for himself? To make himself feel less guilty? Less at fault?

As cruel as it sounded in his head, he found himself regretting giving Michael this chance. He didn’t deserve closure, not when it had taken Evan over a decade to get his own closure. He knew Michael was trying, but why did he get to decide when this change of heart came along? Why did he get to decide when this ended?

He settled in his seat beside Gregory, who was talking to Charlie and Sammy. Elizabeth was quietly talking to Michael, and Evan stayed quiet. He had things to think over. A lot.

When they finished, Charlie and Elizabeth practically dragged him to the tree.

Michael hung back, and Evan felt a twinge of… Something. Sadness? Anger? He didn’t know. But it was something.

Elizabeth insisted he opened hers first, so he did. It was a camera. Except it was yellow and had little bear ears and…

“It’s Fredbear!” He exclaimed, “It’s so cute! Oh my god, Lizzie, this must have taken forever!”

“Charlie helped with it,” She said.

He looked it over, “And it’s brand new… Smile!” He pointed it at Elizabeth and Charlie, snapping a photo quickly, “Oh my god, I love it, Liz.”

She grinned, “I knew you would.”

Gregory smiled at Evan, pushing a small box closer to him.

Evan unwrapped it slowly, before slamming it down and giving Gregory a playfully harsh look, “You did not.”

Gregory laughed, “I really did.”

He held up the sweater, “This is so dumb I’m gonna wear it for the rest of my life.”

The sweater was black with a skull on it, but it was sporadically decorated with random Christmas things. It looked so strange and out of place and he loved it.

Of course he got Gregory an equally ugly sweater, one with flowers on it, but the middle of the flower was replaced with Glamrock Freddy, one of the characters made for Fazbear Entertainment after his father had sold it off in response to the horror rumors about it.

Evan knew they weren’t true, but they still made his skin crawl sometimes.

Sammy bought him a crochet kit, with a bunch of colors for him and Gregory to mess with. He must have remembered Evan mentioning that he wanted to pick it up as a hobby.

They continued exchanging gifts, and Michael was quiet for the most part, as if he was dreading something, which Evan found amusing; of course he was nervous, he’d had one day to find thoughtful gifts for people he hardly spoke to.

Suddenly, just as Evan was going to stand, Michael tossed something to him, and he jumped in surprise.

“I didn’t know what to get you, to be honest. I, uhm, I hope this isn’t a shitty gift…” Michael said, “I also hope it doesn’t like… ruin your day… it’s a hit or miss, so I’m taking a shot.”

Evan blinks a few times, “Alright…”

He carefully unwraps the gift, gasping softly when he sees it fully.

The fur is worn, and the stitches are messy—the handiwork of his uncle, no doubt—and one of the ears has a hole in it, but there’s no mistaking it.

It was Fredbear.

The original plushie.

The one he hadn’t seen since he moved out of his dad’s house.

He’d had another, one that Gregory’s dad had made for him, but it’d never been quite the same. It also didn’t talk to him.

… Well maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t take his eyes off it as he spoke softly, “Where… did you get this?” 

“Dad sent it to me since he didn’t have contact with you. He didn’t give me a chance to say I didn’t either. Henry patched it up and it’s just been collecting dust for the past few months.”

He stared at it. It reminded him of a lot of things. The animatronics on stage that terrified him, being bullied, his nightmares, his dad, The Thing, meeting Gregory, that day he broke his ankle, that time Mike almost hit him with his car his first time driving it, when he spent that first night with Gregory, and so many other things.

“Huh…” He said.

“Is it… a good gift…?”

“Yeah, yeah I missed him.” He said, “Thank you.”

Michael smiled.

Elizabeth stood up, “Well, that was sweet,” she said, “let’s get this picked up now.”

They all groaned, and Lizzie clicked her tongue, “Come on, guys, this isn’t our house, we can’t trash it and leave.”

So they picked up. It wasn’t hard, but at some point Charlie bumped into Elizabeth, who playfully pushed her away, and then that ended with the two of them wrestling each other to the ground. Sammy jumped in and for a moment Evan thought Gregory would too, but he didn’t.

So the two of them just continued cleaning while Charlie squealed. And he glanced over at Michael.

He was picking up alongside them, and Evan couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit.

Michael frowned, “What? What am I doing?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just funny that you’re cleaning. We were lucky if Dad got you to pick up a sock, much less your room, much less Henry’s house.”

Michael scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

Thanks for participating in the conversation, I’m glad we’re talking. Evan thought sarcastically.

Gregory looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue when Evan gave him a look.

“No fighting, I know,” He muttered.

God this sucked a lot.

Michael didn’t know what to say. And he was annoyed that Evan would bring that up. He got so much shit from his dad for not picking up his room, but he could never bring himself to care. He’d hated that house, he’d hated his dad, he’d hated his siblings, and god he’d hated his little brother.

Not that he knew exactly why, though.

His thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth grabbing his arm, “It snowed last night, do you guys still get snow over in Utah?”

“What? Of course we do!” He said, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know, you seem so grumpy I thought you must have never experienced a good thing in your life.” She said.

Evan winced and Michael frowned, “I’m not grumpy.” He said.

“Sure, as if you haven’t been moping around. You know, if you were just going to sulk this whole time you shouldn’t have come,” Elizabeth crossed her arms, “Nobody forced you to come, but you’re acting like this is the worst place to be right now.”

“I’m just… nervous…” He said slowly.

“Nervous? About what? You came because you wanted to see us, didn’t you?” She challenged, “You’re just being dodgy today, I don’t know. You just nudged gifts to us and mumbled ‘thank you’ and hung back, why aren’t you at least trying to participate?”

“I am trying! I’m just not feeling it, okay? Why do you even care, you’re not the one who invited me!”

Elizabeth scoffed, “I invite you every year and every year you shut me down, but not Evan? Is this even about him? Because it feels like it’s about you!”

Michael stared at her, “I’m trying my best!”

“Avoiding us is your best!?”

He fell silent. One look at Evan and Gregory told him they had been thinking the same things.

Goddammit.

He really had been neglecting his sister, hadn’t he? It’s not that he meant to, it’s just that he didn’t know how to talk to her. Her life fell apart pretty quickly once their father’s parenting… declined… but even then she still reached out to their father. Whether she actually thought he could change or if she was just doing it for herself, though, he had no idea.

He was trying to settle these things one at a time! why did he have to fuck up with both his siblings?

“She’s not wrong.” Gregory said, “You’ve been weird lately, and it’d be much easier for everyone if you just… I don’t know… talked? You’re not getting anywhere sneaking around like a dog.”

Michael felt his anger spark at that, “I’m not sneaking around! And don’t call me a dog!”

Elizabeth clenched her fists, “Well if you were really here to make amends, you’d put some effort in, but instead this feels more like a shitty way of getting closure and making yourself feel better-”

Evan stepped forward then, “Okay, that’s enough!”

“-And maybe if you hadn’t almost killed Evan he wouldn’t hate you so much!”

The whole room fell silent.

Evan stared at her, “Elizabeth…”

“It’s true!” She said, “It’s true! He’s always done this! You just avoid us, you shut us out, like that will help, and then you come crawling back for forgiveness so you don’t feel like shit about it!”

“Elizabeth!” Evan shouted.

She turned to look at Evan, and they locked eyes for a moment. She sighed, “I’m going… To go to the gas station for a bit. Call me if you need me.”

Michael watched her go, silent. His gut was twisting and he felt sick.

He was a shitty brother all around, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t even get his sister to like him. Not that he’d tried very hard. Elizabeth made herself feel untouchable. She avoided her brothers because she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they were doing. She hadn’t been talking about Evan, not entirely. She was probably lonely, he realized.

He looked at Evan, “I didn’t… I’m… I’m sorry…”

Evan stared at him, “Do you want to talk about It? Now?”

Michael laughed, but it was dry and humorless, “No, but I’m willing to, if you want to.”

“We’ll leave you guys alone.” Charlie said, grabbing Gregory and Sammy and pulling them away.

“Liz is right, you’re not really proving anything other than the fact that you feel bad. Which is… It’s annoying.” Evan said, “I know you feel bad, I’ve known that since I got out of the hospital when I was ten, Mike. I don’t need to know you feel bad, I need to know you care and want to make an effort to change.”

“Well, I am trying I just-”

“Don’t know how?”

Michael looked up at him.

“...Yeah.” He said softly, “I don’t know what to do, I hardly know you guys anymore.”

Evan sat down beside him, “None of us do, it took Elizabeth years to even look at me, and even longer for us to finally start actually talking. There’s a lot of things we can’t fix. Elizabeth will always be blunt, that will never change. It’s something she got from Dad. She can’t help that, but she can make it better.” He looked up at Michael, “And I think you can, too. If you just talk to me, but you won’t. And that’s making it hard. I don’t want to push you or bother you but I really really need to just… understand this.”

“So… About The Thing…”

“Yeah, The Thing. Me almost dying, you putting my head into heavy machinery? That Thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I still have the scar, you know? It healed over pretty well though, head wounds do that. But I still dream of it, you know. Do you have nightmares?”

“Of seeing my little brother’s head get crushed like a grape? Yeah,” He took a deep breath, “Hard to forget that when I spent at least five minutes staring at it.”

Evan stares at the floor, “... I don’t even remember when it happened. I didn’t feel it at all. Not until I woke up, at least.”

He takes a deep breath, “I… Can I just ask you why?”

“What?”

“Why did you do all that? Why did you treat me like that?”

Michael fell silent. He never talked about the why. It’s not that he didn’t know. He knew. He had known since he started, since he watched his brother’s skull get crunched in front of him.

“I thought it was funny,” He said, “I didn’t like that Dad did all that shit to me. He obviously enjoyed it, and I enjoyed doing it to you. Some kind of fucked up stress relief, I guess.”

Evan stares at him, looking hurt, “That’s brutally honest.”

“You said you didn’t want me to lie to you.”

Evan nodded, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Evan spoke.

“I don’t know if I want to forgive you or not,” He said, “It’s not that… It’s not that I don’t think you’ve changed but… I still have nightmares. I still remember these things that happened to me and they… they suck. But sometimes I feel like a jerk because I know you’re trying and I know you don’t get why this is so hard for me but… But I really hate you. I hate that you are here for closure, I hate that you are here at all. But I invited you.”

“I think I do get it.” Michael said.

“Hm?”

“I… I haven’t blocked Dad yet, did you know that?”

“Really? I blocked him the day I moved out.” Evan said.

“I keep not wanting to. I keep thinking, ‘what if something happens? What if I need to talk to him?’ even though I know that’ll probably never happen.”

“So I guess I can get where you’re coming from. In a weird twisted way, you know? I don’t know how to cut him off, but I don’t know how to talk to him. It’s like there’s a door open in front of me and I’m too scared to walk through it but what if I close it and it locks? What if there was something good in there?”

Evan doesn’t take his eyes off Michael, before he says, “Give me your phone.”

Michael blinks at him, tilting his head, but he slowly hands Evan his phone, “What’re you doing?”

“Blocking Dad.”

“What!? Did you not hear anything I just said?” He reached for his phone, but Evan was quicker and pulled away from him.

“There’s nothing behind that door, Michael.” He says, startling Michael with his intensity, “Nothing that you want or need. You left that room forever ago and you deserve to stay out of it for the rest of your life. You and Liz.”

Michael watched him and his hand dropped back to his side.

Maybe Evan was right. Maybe there was nothing behind that door. Maybe he was just wishing there had been something in that room. It’s like he was closing and opening it in hopes for something new.

“...Thanks.”

“Always available for cutting off shitty family members. I’m incredibly good at it.”

Michael laughed, “... Yeah… you are.”

Evan stood up, “I think that’s enough for now, I don’t know if I forgive you, honestly.”

Michael shrugs, “Eh, that’s not the most of my worries,” He says, “I guess this was something of a test run?”

“If it was, I think it turned out okay.”

When Elizabeth got back, Michael took her aside to talk to her. Evan didn’t listen in, but he knew what they were talking about, and he did indeed see them hug tightly. It wasn’t Evan’s business. He left it alone.

So things weren’t fixed. But they were better. They had wrapped old wounds. Nothing was healed, but they weren’t bleeding anymore, and that was good.

The rest of the day was fun. Elizabeth insisted Michael stayed, but he had to go home eventually, and there was a mutual understanding that he needed some time alone after all that. It was overwhelming, and Evan was definitely done with seeing his family for a bit. They weren’t friends, but it was something.

He watched Michael walk outside, where Jeremy had come to pick him up.

“Hey, Mike?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Michael smiled at him, “Thanks for letting me.”

Not forgiveness, and in the end he would always prefer the family he’d made for himself, but otherwise this went well.

That being said, he was never inviting that many people over for Christmas again. He should’ve gotten them together for Thanksgiving instead.

Gregory pulled Evan back inside, “Dude, it’s freezing, come inside.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gregory looked inside, “This place is a mess. What happened to ‘we can’t make a mess and leave it’?”

Evan laughed.

[skycas1noregular]

Kinktober/Smuttober 21st: Fyolai (nipple play, kink discovery)

(🔞NSFW)

I headcanon Fyodor not exploring his body before Nikolai got to it and explored every inch of him. Bro didn't know his kinks until he met Nikolai, I swear. One of those things he didn't know is that he liked nipple play. They both found out on total accident. Nikolai just wanted to toy with something while yapping about birds after they fucked.

Not wanting him to find out what gets him worked up, knowing Nikolai would use it against him the first chance he got, Fyodor simply bit lip and forced his body not to jolt, forced breath not to hitch, and took hold of Nikolai’s hands, pushing them away from his chest, hoping Nikolai won’t catch the meaning behind the action.

Unfortunately, Nikolai did. He instantly grew quiet, stopped his yapping, and lowered his gaze to Fyodor in his arms who seemingly wasn’t laying there and relaxing like he always does. Hands were way too shaky for the relaxed state when he removed his hands, legs positioned over each other in some kind of attempt to keep his cock from Nikolai’s sight.

It took Nikolai just a few seconds to collect the dots. The smile instantly adorned his lips, “What was that? Do you have a secret kink that I don’t know of?”

Well… he might have. Frankly, he didn’t know about it either until now. But to answer Nikolai’s question honestly? He would never in his right mind. So, he managed to find a quick way out (hopefully), “I’m tired. Your touch is distracting.”

Nikolai didn’t want to let that pass. He knows damn well what he saw, and if Fyodor really does have a nipple kink of some soft, he won’t let this opportunity to confirm it pass either, “Someone who doesn’t have a thing for nipples being played with wouldn’t be distracted.” Nikolai, for example. He doesn’t have a thing for nipples, at all. Actually, he doesn’t have a thing for any sexual-related actions that rely on physicality. Now, if we’re talking about Fyodor trying not to moan beneath him, or about foreplay, about words said while having sex… That’s another thing. Completely another story.

But Nikolai didn’t say anything provocative. Hell, he talked about birds. Fyodor couldn’t have gotten worked up over words if there weren’t any (except if he’s some kind of a zoophile, but that isn’t a conclusion Nikolai was searching for). Therefore, it must be that the sole action of playing with his nipples was a reason why he got so worked up.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I do not have a thing for that,” Fyodor huffed, crossed arms over his body, and continued, “You thrive to make every single action of others seem sex-related.” He indeed does. It’s kind of annoying at times. No, it’s always annoying. Even when he’s right.

“Wanna bet?”

Without waiting for Fyodor to agree, knowing he would disagree and wanting to avoid it, Nikolai’s hands instantly went back to his chest, found Fyodor’s nipples, and pulled. Pulled so harshly that this time it did hurt.

Having it happen faster than Fyodor could react, he didn’t have time to muffle the sound that straight up shot itself from his throat, betraying him and showing the true reaction that would usually be bitten down.

“You do have a thing for nipples,” Nikolai grinned against his ear and twisted them once more, now much more gently than the first time, gaslighting Fyodor into thinking he was the lewd one for letting out such a moan that first time.

Whole work here!

This was an interesting discovery for Nikolai. An erotic sight and a pretty little information that he will keep in mind for later sessions. He was already planning on how to abuse it. “You don’t need to be so stiff. It’s alright to have kinks, Fedya.”

[caspersickfanfics]

I continue to force my sick Cyno agenda on innocent talented people and I cannot be stopped. This isn’t a fic request or anything I just want to share this brain worm

Cyno returning to Tighnari from work seemingly fine, a few scratches etc, but he’s VERY tired, so they do their song and dance of treatment and grounding and go to have dinner. And Cyno seems normal, until dinner is served and for whatever reason the normally iron stomach Cyno CANNOT handle whatever nari served. And it’s bad like he goes from fine to scrambling to the bathroom and Tighnari is just *surprised pikachu*

now here’s the thing- something nari served reminded Cyno of something he witnessed or had to deal with on his last mission. Maybe Cyno didn’t think whatever he saw or did, or ate, (who knows!! It’s a mystery ) affected him that much until it reappeared in this new context? Or maybe his body just has a knee jerk reaction to a perceived threat? Frankly I have no idea what it would be that caused this but the possibilities are fun. And! I like the idea of Cyno being equally shocked by his sudden nausea and it just totally ruining his night as his stomach just won’t stop churching

he would make tighnari SWEAR to never mention this to anyone ever, the General Mahamatra doesn’t get squeamish (and really he usually doesn’t) but Tighnari rolls his eyes and assures him that exhaustion plus *insert whatever the hell happened* would make anyone feel off something something comfort the end

Oh this is so freaking perfect for them!!!!! Absolutely brilliant.

I can think of a few things that could lead to this. One would be having a normal meal and then witnessing or experiencing something traumatic afterwards. Another would be a more direct tie -- eating something that was poisoned. And the middle option would be, Cyno got captured (and tortured or made to witness Horrors, etc.) and was forced to eat the same thing every day :(( Whatever it was, Cyno wasn't physically injured too bad, and he's had time to recover from that, so he figures "all's well that ends well" and doesn't linger on it much at all (avoidance is a symptom of trauma). Maybe there was someone else who went through it with him and they're not feeling great about it, so Cyno makes sure to get them situated and in a place to heal mentally, and then as he's leaving they're like "are you sure you're okay?" and he's like "yeah of course, I'm the General Mahamatra, so I'm always okay" and from that point on it's just no longer something that crosses his mind.

Tighnari can immediately see how tired he is, but is relieved to find no injuries. Cyno doesn't talk much, but that's typical, even more so when he's tired, and he just seems happy to see Nari.

I like the idea of Cyno sitting down to eat and he feels a bit nauseous from the smell of the food, but figures it's just the exhaustion. It's probably not an unfamiliar feeling for him after such a tiring job. He's not even slightly worried about it until the food is actually in his mouth and by that point his stomach is lurching. He's uncharacteristically clumsy as he scrambles out of the room.

It just crossed my mind that his job might mandate a certain level of confidentiality at times. So now I'm also playing with this idea of Tighnari, like, super worried because that was weird, and Cyno doesn't have a fever, but even after he empties his stomach, he's washed out, sweaty, on-edge. But Cyno's just sitting there in the corner of the bathroom, trembling like a leaf, mumbling apologizes for not being able to eat the food and saying stuff like "I can't– I just can't eat that" and shuddering when he thinks too hard about it. Tighnari's smart so pretty quickly he's like "did something happen at work?" And Cyno shrugs but obviously it's a yes. Nari's kind of frustrated, not at Cyno, but at the fact that he can't share his burdens. Cyno squeezes his eyes shut, but that doesn't do anything to stop the memories, and maybe he starts dry heaving. Tighnari just rubs his back quietly and tries not to imagine what Cyno must have experienced to have his body rebel so intensely. They spend the rest of the night trying to figure out how to make Cyno feel safe - maybe they trade huts with Collei or borrow an empty one for the night because the smell is triggering. Cyno can't stomach any food at this point, but tea helps. His body is so tired that he drifts off, but he keeps waking up from nightmares. Each time, he snuggles closer to Nari, who pretends to stay sleeping because he knows Cyno would feel baad for waking him. The third or fourth time Cyno wakes up, though, he's sick again, and Tighnari figures enough is enough. They spend the early morning hours playing cards. Tighnari is hardly paying attention to the game at all, instead choosing to focus on the conversation, sifting through their shared memories and deliberately bringing up the happiest, most comforting ones he can find, so that when Cyno falls asleep at the table, it's actually peaceful this time. Tighnari doesn't move him because he's sure it will wake him. He just keeps watch over him, playing with his hair, and feels devastatingly sad for whatever it was Cyno had to endure.

...I rambled as usual. I love this idea so much. I know you said it's not a request but I'm ngl I am kinda tempted to write this sdkjsfdjs (also!! I wholly support your sick Cyno agenda, please continue! XD)

[star-going-supernova]

Prompt: After vanessa is freed from ol' peepaw willy's control. One day, Gregory just sorta offhandedly comments "by the way, you had a real crappy knife as Vanny". Vanessa, understandably, questions how he knows this. Gregory proceeds to drag her to the store to buy a 4 buck knife, victoria brand (because i recently got one and omg that's sharp). Vanessa is now glad that Vanny was kind of a dummy. (I thought this could be funny!)

Basic implant background for Vanessa here! This is silly, lol.

Critique

It started with a movie trailer in which a character was shown attacking a friend because of mind control. It was all rising drama as the second character desperately tried to break their friend free without hurting them while still trying to defend themself. It struck a sour note in Vanessa. 

Had any of her victims, Gregory or otherwise, tried to snap her out of it? Begged for her to wake up, for her not to hurt them? Would they have known to? She didn’t remember enough from those months, her memory scattered and patchy. 

“You must have been so scared,” she murmured, almost without noticing. She immediately tensed when Gregory turned to look at her; That Night had been one of the Things We Don’t Talk About since it happened, and the last thing she’d meant to do was break that unspoken agreement.

But Gregory just made a dismissive noise. “Not really.” 

“Not—not really?” 

He sent her a half pitying, half apologetic look. “You were a really incompetent murderer, is all.” 

And despite how unbelievably stupid it was, Vanessa found herself mildly offended. “Excuse me?” 

Gregory sighed, put-upon. “Forget I said anything.” 

Vanessa did not, instead leaning forward to mute the TV. “No, no, we’re having this conversation. And I’m sorry for bringing it up—for making you uncomfortable, but—”

“Uncomfortable? What are you talking about?”

She gestured at him. “I don’t exactly want to make you relive a traumatic experience.” 

He stared at her blankly for a second, but before she could start to worry that he was having a flashback or something, he snorted, amused. “Ness, I hate to break it to you, but I didn’t find that night in the pizzaplex particularly traumatizing.” 

“You—what? But we, we have that silent agreement not to talk about it!” 

“Yeah. Because you get all self-loathing and thousand-yard-stare-y when you’re reminded of it.” 

“I—” Vanessa cut herself off, narrowing her eyes. Did she get like that? “But—your nightmares?”

He bit his lip, and she got the impression he was trying not to laugh at her. “I’ve never had a nightmare about you or the pizzaplex, actually.” 

“But I—your insomnia, the way you’re so tired in the morning sometimes, and sometimes you fall asleep with the light on!” 

“I have friends in other time zones,” he explained. “And what kid doesn’t stay up to all hours on YouTube? You wouldn’t believe how many theory videos are out there about Fazbear Entertainment and all the murders and stuff.” 

The murders. Her murders? Were there more murders committed by other murderers? 

They stared at each other for a long minute, Vanessa’s worldview shifting in multiple different directions and Gregory placidly watching it happen. 

“Okay, we’ll—come back to that, maybe, but—sorry, just. Let’s circle back to incompetent murderer. The hell does that mean?” 

“Let me put it simply: you dedicated six-plus hours to trying to kill me… and now I live in your house.” 

Vanessa slumped into the couch cushions, unable to argue. 

To add insult to injury, Gregory started counting off a list of incompetencies on his fingers. “Your costume was frankly comical with its bug-eyes and buckteeth and weird smile. I have to assume the mask severely limited your vision with the amount of times you just completely missed me despite me being right in front of you. You had no sense of urgency with the way you were skipping around, and you made it extremely easy to avoid you because you had no concept of stealth or subtlety. Using the animatronics to help you might have been a half decent idea if doing so hadn’t dumbed them down so much. An actual dog would’ve been better at tracking me.” 

She opened her mouth to interject, but he kept going. 

“The one time you did get close to me, you were so dead-set on maintaining the stupidest cover ever that you practically let me get away. I mean, seriously, who were you trying to fool? So what if I, the kid you were going to kill, knew Vanessa and Vanny were one and the same? And despite having an entire building’s worth of security cameras at your fingertips, you never used them to find me, and the door locks were useless with all the keycards laying around. Admittedly, that’s not entirely your fault, but as a murderer, I think you should’ve been more meticulous about that. And the worst part—”

This roast against her mind-controlled self got worse? 

“—your knife was a piece of crap.” 

A few seconds ticked by as Vanessa’s brain tried to take in his criticisms without thinking of them as points that she needed to improve upon. “What was so bad about my knife?” she asked, perhaps a bit too petulant.

Gregory shrugged. “It was a standard kitchen knife, which wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve chosen. But it clearly hadn’t seen a sharpener in way too long.” 

“How would you know?” Because, admittedly, it wasn’t like she’d ever gotten close enough for him to learn firsthand anything about her knife. 

He sucked in through his teeth, faux apologetic. “Another point against you,” he teased. “I stole your knife around 4:30 and you apparently didn’t even notice.” 

“You didn’t. You didn’t!” 

“I did!” His smile turned smug. “And I never gave it back.” 

“You still have it?” Vanessa asked. Was that something to be concerned about? Especially since he had such a clear idea of what made a person a good or bad murderer. 

“Duh. And you’re not getting it back now. It’s part of my collection.” 

Terrifying little menace. Vanessa looked back at the TV and unmuted it. Her thoughts swirled. 

A few minutes later, she huffily turned to Gregory again, smacking the couch cushion as she did, and loudly said, affronted, “Incompetent. Incompetent? Me? Really?” 

Gregory immediately bursting into laughter didn’t help her outrage. 

[demonsanddemogorgons]

Sunny in Philadelphia - A Joseph Quinn Story (Chapter 15)

Chapter 15 - Boyfriend

"McKenzie."

"Drew. What are you doing here? You didn't call." you asked, snapping a bit, angry that you weren't alerted that he was coming. The one agreement the two of you had that he wanted with the divorce was that he could still come and see Jango since you had shared him together. He was allowed to take him to the park or on certain trips he went on, but he stayed with you full-time. He was supposed to notify you before coming to get him, but he hadn't this time.

"I was in the area and figured I would just stop by to take Jango to the park for the day." He looked over your shoulder at Joe, who was just standing there quietly, letting you do all the talking. "Who is this?"

Fuck. Could this get any more awkward? Absolutely not.

"Drew, this is Joe. M-my boyfriend." Drew's eyes widened as you turned to Joe, mainly to avoid eye contact with Drew if you were being totally honest. "Joe, this is Drew. My...ex-husband."

Joe's eyebrows raised as he nodded at the new information. He wasn't particularly thrilled to meet the man who shattered you into the million pieces that he was trying to glue back together, but he would be respectful all the same, for your sake. He nodded towards Drew in acknowledgement but said nothing. He wasn't going to tell him it was nice to meet him, because frankly, it wasn't. He swallowed in an attempt to stuff down the burning anger he felt in his throat from having that bastard standing 3 feet from him. Drew nodded back and then turned to you.

"Boyfriend?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, Drew. Boyfriend. Pretty sure I'm allowed to have one of those now, not that it stopped you."

He ignored your snarky remark and looked at Joe, his eyes widening with realization.

"Wait a minute. I've seen him before. Joe? Like Joseph? Quinn?"

"Yes."

Drew took a step back for a moment out of shock.

"Joseph Quinn? Like that Eddie dude you were all obsessed with from that TV show? You're dating him?"

You were getting fed up with his questions and disbelief. He had already proven you to not be good enough for him, but for him to act like it was impossible for you to attract a man like Joe was the icing on the cake of your bitterness toward him.

"Drew. How many times do I have to say yes?"

"Wow."

That's all he could say? Really?

"Well, Joe and I have plans for later so if you came for Jango, you can go ahead and take him," you said, trying to shoo him out.

"Yeah, I'll be heading out soon, but can we talk first? In private?"

What? Absolutely not.

"What could you possibly want to talk about? And anything you're going to say to me can be said in front of Joe," you snapped. Joe tried his best to hold back a smirk, impressed with your composure. Atta girl, he thought. He was proud of you for standing your ground.

"I...well, I-I wanted to talk to you about maybe, possibly, getting back together."

You didn't think it was possible for Joe's eyes to bug out any further.

"I'm sorry, what?" You couldn't believe what you heard. "You want me to take your cheating, mentally abusive ass back? Drew, how stupid do you think I am?"

"I-I know I screwed up. I see that now."

"Yeah, only because you showed up here to find a new man in my house that you didn't know about. Funny how you can sleep with all these other women and degrade me about my appearance, but the second you see that I've moved on, you can't handle it. What happened, Drew? All your mistresses get tired of you? Did they realize how you really are?"

"I-I-"

"You didn't appreciate what you had. Even if you do realize what you lost now, it's too late. You had your chance, and you blew it. Even if Joe wasn't in the picture, I would never go back to you. Ever. I deserve better, and I've been fortunate enough to find that. Now take Jango for your visit and get the fuck out of my house."

"Mack, please."

"She said get out, mate," Joe interjected from behind you. He had heard enough. Drew moved closer until his face was inches from Joe's.

"This doesn't concern you," he said lowly, his hands tightening into fists. You could see Joe's cheeks turning red.

"Doesn't concern me? You're asking my girlfriend to take your pathetic ass back right in front of me. If that doesn't concern me, then I don't know what does. You have a lot of nerve to ask this of her after the way you treated her, especially in front of me. I have been patient and tried to stay back out of respect for her and her ability to handle herself, but this is where I draw the line. Get out. Now."

Drew didn't move, continuing to stare at Joe in close proximity. He was contemplating his next move which, if he was smart, would be to retreat.

"Come, Jango," he said, backing off. He hooked Jango's leash to his collar and left with him, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the door shut, you collapsed against Joe, sobbing. He caught you before you could hit the floor and rubbed his hand over your back soothingly.

"Shhhh, darling, it's okay."

"I'm sorry," you sobbed, soaking his shirt in tears. "I couldn't cry in front of him. I just couldn't. I fucking hate him so much, and I couldn't let him see me like this, let him see how much it still hurts."

"I know, lovey. I know." He continued to hold you as you cried, placing gentle kisses on the top of your head. "You handled it, baby. You did so good."

You continued crying against him but started to calm down.

"Thank you for stepping in," you said between sniffles. "I couldn't take any more."

"I know, darling. I am proud of you for staying strong as long as you did. I know how hard that must have been. I will always be here to step in when you need me."

"I don't know what I would do without you, Joe."

He looked down at you and smiled, pulling you in for a kiss, not caring at all that your face was tear-soaked, and he was getting it all over his own. He only cared in that moment that you were alright. He was humbled by your extreme trust of him. He could see every day how much faith you put in him, and effortlessly so. You trusted him with your life, and it was evident to him. He was amazed that after everything you've been through, you were so quick to care about him so easily, without reservation. He was already angry with the Drew he hadn't met for making the girl of his affections feel so badly about herself and taking her love for granted. After meeting him, it was extremely safe for him to say that he hated him. How can someone like that call himself a man, he thought. He surely wasn't one.

Story Master List

[luesmainblog]

Y'know.... I love fat positivity, I do, but there's one thing that really, really bothers me about it. Y'all need to stop acting like the ONLY reasons to not want to gain weight are social, and that if it weren't for people treating fat folks worse, nobody would ever worry about their weight. That simply isn't true. I've been slowly gaining weight over the last few years, with depression and a lack of nutritional control making it very difficult to get up and work it off. I don't especially care what other people think about it, because I rarely see other people to begin with, and people have never been especially kind to me unless I put in a week's worth of effort to my appearance. You wanna know why i don't want to be fat? Why i wanna lose the weight? 1. Buying new clothes is fucking expensive. Let's imagine, for the sake of argument, that all the cute stuff I like WASN'T religated to skinny people. That still wouldn't change the fact that I have clothes RIGHT NOW, that I love, that I'm not going to find a replacement for, that I cannot fit into anymore. Which means I have less options on what I can wear, especially if I wanna wear it outside. But even cheap clothes cost money. Buying an entire new wardrobe because my body just randomly decided it's gonna get bigger now SUCKS. there is no getting around that; i didn't like doing it when i was a growing lass in school, and i don't like doing it now as an adult who is supposed to be done growing. 2. My Spine. I am pretty much destined to have back problems, something i've already begun to develop at the ripe old age of 25. My natural resting position is a clouch, I curl up like an unborn baby when I sleep, and my tits have the combined weight of a frozen turkey. I do not need even MORE extra weight on my spine. And no, having an unhealthy spine wouldn't make me Less Valuable as a person, it's not some terrible fate that removes my life of happiness, you don't HAVE to be healthy, but it's still an uncomfortable thing i would very much like to AVOID. 3. It's making it harder to sleep. Listen. I have insomnia already as it is. I don't need my slowly developing double-chin to swoop in and make certain positions unbreathable and make it even fucking HARDER to sleep. I can no longer sleep in some of my comfiest poses because fat is getting in the way and making them unworkable. and yes, these are all, ultimately, minor inconveniences. But they're inconveniences that FUCKING matter to me. I'm so tired of "I wanna lose weight" being treated as some slight against all fat people and something that no normal person would ever want all on their own without magazines telling them blah blah FUCKING blah. It is a decision you can come to because becoming fat has an effect on your life. not just a social effect, not just a mental health effect, a Tangible, PHYSICAL change to how you interact with your body and with the world. I don't hate my body, aside from maybe a couple reproductive organs. but i would like it more if it would stop growing out and cooperate with me. i miss the way that it was just a few years back. i am allowed to be upset about these changes.

yes, i could choose to love my body as it is and accept the changes that come with it. but i can ALSO choose to acknowledge the reasons i'm gaining weight and try to make some changes in my life. that is not a slight against you, and it is not a slight against myself. and frankly, i'm not very comfortable with the idea that i shouldn't be making decisions on what my body looks like beyond the decorations. strikes me as a bit transphobic in nature if i'm gonna be fully honest.

[notesbyash]

Hello, there. I don’t know if you answer asks like this, but, please, feel free to ignore it if you don’t. So, I was wondering if you had any tips on how to study efficiently? I keep seeing people (myself included) getting long hours of studying and I just feel it’s not healthy in the long term. What are your thoughts on this matter, though? Would you mind sharing?

Hello anon - I do my best to answer asks, I'm just slow in getting around to them most of time~

Have been turning that question around in my head myself actually, the idea of studying more efficiently. A while back I made this post of practical things that helped me out in undergrad. I think they still hold true, but it also speaks to where I was in that point in life, spinning my wheels and constantly behind deadlines. Not that I'm not still now, but I'm doing my best to stay ahead (though I also have the luxury of fewer classes and some understanding advisors).

I think the things I struggle with the most, and frankly always have, are motivation and balance. At the end of the day, persistence and resolve are more important than personal motivation when it comes to studying; I have a routine and a set place to study, and remain relatively strict with myself about not allowing anything but work when I'm there. But I find that without at least some kind of positive motivation it becomes incredibly difficult to avoid burnout. It seems easier to find that motivation in graduate school; you're allowed to specialize and dive into your interests much more than in undergrad just by virtue of the way it's structured. However, with my program specifically, I'm still forced to take courses that have seemingly no relevance with what I actually want to be doing.

What has helped me maintain some motivation through them has, strangely enough, been customization. Ways to connect with myself and things I love despite having to study topics that I may find tiring to parse. I've personally always had a fascination with 60s era technical reports and documentation, the aesthetic collision of analogue devices and early computers - the world built in Remedy's 2019 video game Control fit me perfectly and has been incredibly influential in my life. I've developed a filing and notation system that replicates the lore collectibles in game; I format my class notes and homeworks as internal memos written to document and summarize technical discoveries, turn my projects into experimental reports. Little things, simple changes, that bring me a little more joy when trudging through confusing material.

This rolls into my next point: balance. The moment I lose myself to just the work is the moment the burnout begins. I'm the type of person to live and breathe what I do in some senses, but instead of letting my interests consume me I've sought to infuse myself into my interests. To cultivate joy in tedium. I've found it important to hold onto yourself outside of academics, to indulge in personal interests even if it feels like a waste of time in the moment. To make those indulgences regular, noting that regularity and frequency aren't always the same thing. A morning cup of tea, a favorite writing pen, a bit of time on a weekend spent watching a show or visiting a local park. Something where you can breathe and truly let yourself rest.

And then, as ever, remember your goal, strengthen your resolve, and move forward from a place of hope and personal fulfillment as best you can.

It's not easy, it really isn't, but I believe in you. Be kind to yourself anon, and don't undercut your own achievements - the little things matter, perhaps the most of all.

[circusinthewalls]

SEMI-NSFW Soap Ramblings - 18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

(CW: Implied Eating Disorder) [Masterlist]

Johnny couldn't remember the last time he'd seen you in the mess hall. Not consistently, at least. Felt like it'd been weeks since you'd been in there for all three meals.

And of course, he saw you at other times of the day, saw you throughout the base here, and there, but he missed eating with you. Your warmth at his side on the bench was something he didn't realize he'd gotten so used to. He wanted you back. Wanted you home, if home could ever be a place next to him.

Now he's wandering into your room like a lost puppy, slipping in past the cracked door and crawling into bed with you. It startles you at first when he drapes an arm over your side, the feeling drawing you quickly out of your half-asleep state, but then he mutters your name and that thick brogue let's you know that it's just him cozied up against your back.

Tension eases out of your muscles at the familiarity. Johnny's always been welcome in your bed. Such is par for the course with the platonic intimacy you share. You greet him with a small hum when he noses against your nape.

"Tired, lovie?" he queries, voice low and soft.

You give another hum and a confirming nod in response. Tutting, he presses a kiss to the base of your skull.

"Figured y'must be. Missed you at dinner."

Guilt twists in you at the prospect. If food itself was at all appetizing lately, maybe you wouldn't leave him alone so often. Would it be stupid to simply sit with him during meals even if you didn't have anything?

To not eat in the place made for eating feels.. odd, and part of you would rather avoid it altogether, but... Hm.

You're brought back to reality when you feel Johnny's lips starting to mark a path toward the crook of your neck. You whine, shrinking up out of instinct, already knowing that he'll be relentless when he does find that sensitive spot.

"Don't hide me from me," he breathes against your skin. "Had t'get your attention somehow. 'S what ya get for spacing out on me."

"Mmn, that's not fair," you protest, squirming and trying not to laugh when he leans over a bit, giving himself the leverage to shove his face properly in against your neck. "Bastard- I can't help it!"

"Och, I know!" he huffs, kissing more fervently. "Ye ken I miss ya, though. Can't be mad at me for wanting to make up for lost time."

You scoff and finally turn your head to look at him, mouth open to speak. A gasp escapes in the place of words, however, brought about by none other than the Scot's mouth latched onto you, suckling on that tender little section of skin he's borderline infatuated with.

There's no stopping the way you mewl and whimper, muscles somehow relaxed and yet entirely taught under his ministrations. Whatever you'd been about to say a second ago is completely forgotten. Frankly, you don't care to try and remember, either.

One of your hands comes up to thread loosely in his short strands, pleading silently for him to continue. He could leave behind a dozen marks if he really wanted. You wouldn't mind a bit.

"Such bonnie noises," he mutters, pulling off.

Disappointment at the sudden loss has you blinking up at him, lips tugging into a pout.

"C'mon, none of that now. Never said I was done," he mutters and thumbs away the saliva left behind, "but I brought you somethin'."

You watch then as his hand withdraws to dip into the side pocket of his fatigues, searching.

Oh. Maybe there was a reason behind his visit after all.

---------------------------------------------------

Meant to get this out wayyy sooner, but uhh sometimes life hits you with a silly goofy little mental breakdown and you download Grindr only to regret it after being sent like 40+ dick pics in the span of an hour. Woops.

Anyway, part two out soon, so keep an eye out! Feel free to ask to be tagged if you're interested. o7

Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

Taglist: @phrog-seeds