#{ but apparently this game has been out for awhile } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writerpetals · 6 months

Text

view from 4-B: going down? | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

w; exhibitionism, public sex, semi-drunken sex,

view from 4-B au; view from 4-B ride going down? pulse impressions tantalize getting caught

Neither he nor you can stop snickering as you make your way into your apartment building, hands over mouths while you stumble along as he drags you toward the elevator. You might have had one too many drinks after he invited you out to something he was too worried to call a date, and he might have joined right along with you because he was so damn nervous having a night out with you for the first time since you started your exhibitionist rendezvous. The alcohol coursing through your body warms you enough to have tied your hair up long ago to keep the sweat from beading over your neck, but it doesn’t help the moment he wraps his arms around you to pull you close.

The evening was well spent at an arcade, much to your surprise, where you learned he is just as carefree and playful as you imagined. Add drinks and pizza on top of fun games and competition and you realized you could quickly get used to spending time with him outside of the apartment, where you’re not teasing him through a window. Though, you wonder if it’s even considered a first date when it feels so natural and neither of you have many secrets between the two of you at this point.

“I had fun tonight,” he says with a sigh after pushing the button for the ever so slow elevator.

You have been hoping for weeks for maintenance on the damn thing, having to wait for what feels like forever on the doors to open, and tonight is no exception. It definitely doesn’t help that the wacky machinery stops on every floor for no apparent reason, and your body is aching at the thought of having to wait so long just to have his hands on you. You would consider taking the stairs if the alcohol buzzing through your body didn’t leave your legs feeling like Jell-O.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a date,” he blurts against your lips between kisses and giggles, and your eyes grow wide.

“Ah!” You push him away with hands against his chest playfully, the confusion growing in each of his features as he cards fingers through his hair. “So it is a date!”

He shrugs with a shy, tipsy smile. “Maybe.” Then he licks his lips, stepping closer with hands attaching to your hips. “If you want it to be.”

“Maybe I do.” A grin crosses your lips a moment before your skin touches his, embracing him in a soft, yet passionate kiss that warms you by a landslide. By the time you’re moaning against his lips, the bell rings to signal the elevator has arrived, unfortunately for him, who groans once you pull away.

Though he can’t complain when you step onto the platform and his hands are on your body once again. You don’t bother pressing the button to close the doors because you’re too wrapped up in him. His cologne, the softness of his skin, the way his hands grip your hips has you pressing your thighs together as you clutch his gray sweatshirt between eager fingers.

“Can’t you wait until we get upstairs?” you ask breathlessly just as the doors shut behind him. By now he has your back pressed to the wall of the elevator, pinning you in a tight position. His kisses lower to your neck to earn goosebumps flooding your skin and the arousal is hot and dripping with need as he playfully tugs your earlobe with his teeth.

“Nope,” he mumbles against your skin, causing you to giggle once the bell rings to signal you’ve arrived at the first floor. Neither of you are paying attention as his mouth wanders, and his hands are soon to follow. Fingers gripping your waist slip lower to linger at the hem of your thin, flowing dress, happy to know he is pleasantly pleased you’re wearing something that will give him easy access.

“Someone will catch us,” a hesitant string of words spills from your lips once he dares to go further, fingers pushing your dress higher until he’s hooking his thumb into the band of your panties. Thankfully for the two of you, most of the residents in your apartment building are much older and most likely have a bedtime of at least nine p.m.

“Since when do you care?” he challenges, seconds before tugging your panties down to your thighs while continuing to press desperate, sloppy kisses against your skin. “If I recall correctly,” he begins, hand dipping between your legs to feel your warmth and need for him, “you’re the one that would get off using your pillow every night with your blinds wide open.”

You couldn’t argue with him, realizing as much as the doors close behind him once again so the elevator can carry you to the second floor at the same time he brushes fingertips over your hot, swollen flesh. A whimper of his name fills the confined space the moment his determined fingers press to your clit, not wasting time working your body up for what is to come later. Your hand lowers to place atop of his own as you wait for the elevator to rise another floor, letting him know you have no problems with his sudden display of urgency and affection.

“That’s because I wanted you to notice me.” A soft moan is coaxed from your lips after speaking, melting into his body with nails scratching the skin of his hand. Your head falls against the elevator wall while he teases your skin with his lips and tongue, all the while his fingers begin working between your folds to earn the arousal pooling at your entrance.

“A friendly hello wouldn’t suffice, baby?” he teases, voice lowering to a raspy groan once he begins to circle his fingers around your entrance. The elevator seems to stall just before the third floor, giving you time to begin pressing your hips toward him, urging him to enter you.

“As if you had any fucking complaints,” you spit back with a grin, all before it fades into a slacked jaw as the pleasure consumes you upon feeling him insert one of his fingers inside of your soaked walls. “As I recall it, you had n-no problems watching me for… for weeks.” Speaking becomes difficult when he begins to pump and pull the digit in and out of you.

“Mm, and what if it were some else that spotted you pleasuring yourself all those nights instead of me?” he hums the question while easing another finger inside of you, stretching your walls around him as you gasp. The elevator reaches the fourth floor with a ding echoing in the small space, but neither of you can pull yourselves away from one another long enough to notice.

“All I cared about,” you begin, exhaling deeply upon feeling him curl the digits inside of you, palm pressing to your clit, “w-was you.” The doors slowly close once you’re done muttering the statement, earning a groan of approval in response before the elevator begins its descent to the lobby.

“Oh?” he questions, pulling away from your neck to see the pleasure twisted over your face. “And why is that?” Suddenly, he reaches for your hand pressed to the one between your legs, pinning your wrist above your head with firm fingers against your skin.

“W-what?” You’re not sure if it’s the bliss filling you as he finger fucks you harder once the elevator reaches the ground floor that has you at a loss for words, or if it’s because you truly aren’t sure what he’s asking. Either way, your mind loses its ability to process a reply in a tipsy, pleasure-filled haze while scrambling for an answer when him thrusting his fingers in and out faster has your knees trembling beneath you.

“Tell me why you decided to put on a show for me in the first place, baby.” You’re not sure if it's the alcohol drawing out every bold, little syllable or if it's only his curiosity, but the request has you stuttering within seconds.

“I w-would watch you in your apartment.” Gulping, you make an extra effort to focus on speaking, even if heis now pulling his soaked and sloppy fingers from within you to press painfully slow circles against your clit. “And I got tired of touching myself while thinking of you, so I wanted to… to have some fun. Holy shit-” The last few words release in a gasp when he caresses back and forth over your clit, chuckling at your desperate attempt to hang onto your sanity.

You’re seconds away from trying to warn him the elevator has stalled at the lobby when he suddenly thrusts two fingers inside of you to have you gasping for a deep breath, hardly being able to worry over the matter. He curls the digits, drawing them back out to have you trembling around him once again before shoving them back in your tightening walls. Wiggling and pushing your hips toward him, you try to get more, to get all you can, but his tight hold on your wrist keeps you in place and all you can do is whine his name in return.

You exhale, eyes fluttering to a close the moment he begins fucking you with his fingers once again, “please. Let's go upstairs. I can't wait any longer…”

Regretfully, you push him away thanks to his grip lacking strength in the first place, already feeling so empty without his fingers inside of you as you reach to hit the button for the fourth floor. The light clicks on once again and a minute passes before either of you go anywhere thanks to the slow service.

But it gives him time to pull you back with a stronger grip on your waist, causing you to giggle as he once again pushes you to the wall with his body pressed to yours.

“Did I say you could go anywhere?” He tries to keep his tone stern, but can’t help it when he cracks a smile as soon as you begin to giggle harder at his lack of intimidation when he’s tipsy.

“And didn’t I tell you to take me upstairs?” you challenge him, chin rising and eyes narrowing. However, he only sees it as an opportunity to challenge you in return, except in a completely different way as his mouth presses just beneath your ear and his hands dip beneath your dress once again.

“Why do we need to go upstairs?” he groans against your skin while pushing your panties farther down your thighs. The sound of the doors opening only distracts you momentarily once you reach the second floor, but his deep and strained voice pulls you back in quick enough. “I have you right here, right now.”

You exhale deeply once his mouth trails kisses to your exposed chest, just above the hem of your dress to run his tongue over the peak of your breast. The doors close to carry the two of you to the third floor just as his fingers dip between your thighs and you can feel yourself dripping with need upon his every touch.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, baby.” His voice is low and breathy and it sends a shiver surging down your spine. “Isn’t that what turns you on? Knowing someone could catch you? Knowing someone is watching?”

He’s right in more ways than one and all attempts at challenging him with an argument fail the moment he pulls his mouth from your body. Speechless and breathless, you watch the way his eyes darken with a smirk on his lips seconds before he drops to his knees. A gasp fills the small space to mix with the ding of the elevator reaching the fourth floor all over again, doors opening wide for anyone to see the way he pushes your skirt higher before his lips connect to your skin.

Though, it’s too late for most of the residents to be roaming the halls, but you decided you no longer care as he places soft, yet eager kisses over your mound. Your panties are stretched tight around your thighs once you part your legs for him, and one swipe of his tongue over your glistening, soaked folds has your mind buzzing with bliss.

The world quickly becomes lost around you in a matter of moments, somehow barely even noticing him tugging your panties down to your ankles due to his tongue massaging left and right over your folds. Before you can so much as get a whimper of his name out, his fingers are parting your folds to press his tongue to your clit. Naturally your leg hooks over his shoulder, allowing him better access to your aching folds and dripping center.

With your hands sinking to grip the strands of his hair, a pleasantly surprised groan against your flesh sends a wave of warmth through your body. Fingers tug harder against the thick locks as he circles your clit, continuing to massage your skin to earn every breathless whimper and moan escaping your lips. You’re trembling within a few minutes while getting lost in the sloppy sounds of his mouth against your body, already so desperate and so full of bliss.

Your hips begin to push forward, becoming greedy for the pleasure and he accepts the way your body begs as he aligns two of his fingers to thrust into you once more. As your head falls against the elevator wall, a steady stream of whimpers and moans, gasps and pants, flood the confined space. It’s enough to encourage him to keep going as he hungrily licks your clit and swallows every drop of your juices dripping out for him.

All too quickly the noises spilling from your lips lack control, voice becoming louder the longer his mouth is tight between your thighs. Even your teeth sinking into your bottom lip offer no help, whining each time he presses against your clit and sucks lightly enough to have your body quivering. Two fingers pumping in and out of your tightening warmth can only coax the whines and whimpers from your mouth louder and louder, with him making it his mission to see that you reach your peak against his tongue.

However, both of your bodies freeze the moment you hear a shuffling of some kind approaching the elevator from the lobby. Your thighs tense and tighten, not wanting him to pull away, but the footsteps drawing near just on the other side of the doors cause him to regretfully remove his mouth from your body. The two of you scramble to pretend as if nothing were happening, with him grabbing your panties from the platform and you straightening your dress with the palms of your hands.

The light clicks on, assuming the stranger has pressed the elevator button, and he quickly runs the back of his hand over his mouth as heat floods to your cheeks even more than before.

“Stupid, slow elevator,” the stranger mumbles seconds after the doors slide to open, and you only get a glance at his wool coat and hat over his head with a brown, paper bag in hand, the grumpy, raspy voice making you turn away in shame. Even if he has no idea what had been taking place moments ago, the embarrassment fills you to no end as he pushes you into the corner to hide your bitten lip, just seconds from giggling in a tipsy, frustrated haze.

You can no longer see the stranger standing near the doors thanks to him blocking your view. His body is pressed tight to yours with your face in his chest, yet he just doesn’t know when to quit his teasing, sliding his hands from your waist to cup your breasts, making it even harder not to make any noise. Your eyes glance up, glaring at him for a moment to see the smirk on his lips. A twitch of his eyebrows lets you know he’s only having fun as his thumbs find your hardening nipples beneath the thin fabric, careful not to move an inch in fear of the stranger getting an eyeful.

The elevator comes to its first stop, and you hold your breath in hopes he will be stepping off the platform. He pays the stranger no mind, continuing to tease your nipples through your dress, knowing it’s such a cheap spot after finding out how sensitive you are when you’re worked up and dripping between your thighs. As the doors close, the man clears his throat before sighing, cursing about the slow elevator once again and you stiffen at having to wait on the broken elevator to reach another floor.

He doesn’t seem to mind, having his fun with you as you make your best attempt to remain quiet. He opts for pressing his thumb and index finger against the hardened bud to pinch playfully, mouth suddenly lowering to your neck to make the situation all the more difficult.

“Don’t moan,” he whispers in your ear, pressing his lips to your lobe seconds before his hand lowers between your thighs. In an instant you’re taken back, eyes screwing shut as his fingers graze your sopping wet folds, hearing him groan at just feeling your juices against his skin.

He’s gotten you so worked up, wet, and desperate for more, and he loves nothing more than the way that fact alone strokes his ego and gives him the confidence to keep toying with you. The elevator reaches the third floor with a ding just as he presses two fingertips to your clit. You can only take a deep breath once again upon feeling him begin to circle the digits around and around again. He takes his time, making your knees weak beneath you as you latch onto his sweatshirt with a shaky grip.

“One more floor,” he groans as the elevator begins its journey to the last stop, having no mercy as his fingers work quickly against your aching, swollen flesh. If your stifled moans won’t give you away by the time you reach the fourth floor, the wetness between your legs certainly risks the two of you getting caught. Though, you’re sure the man in the elevator is twice as intoxicated as both of you combined, so you can only pray he is paying no attention the moment your eager date thrusts the two fingers inside of you to have you gasping into his chest.

Trembling fingers grip his sweatshirt in two wound up fists, face pressed to his body to keep the noises from pouring past your lips. His palm presses flat against your clit, allowing you to rock your hips over his hand even if it means the risks grow each second he drives his slender fingers into you. You can’t stop yourself from becoming greedy, needing release because he has you so pent up and tense, the only thing you want to do is come on his fingers even in front of a complete stranger.

But he knows it’s what gets you off and he isn’t shy about testing your limits. After all, you’re the one that started the game with him in the first place. You’re the one that teased him until he snapped. You’re the one that deserves such a punishment for being a devious little thing, and he is sure to remind you every chance he’s allowed.

As the doors open once the elevator reaches your floor, he is more than eager to pull his hands away to quickly drag your weak, stumbling body into the hall. The two of you brush past the drunken man to earn a huff and a few choice words, but neither of you can care when your bodies ache for one another and you’re so desperate for release.

He reaches for the key in its secret place, pushing the door open without words and pulling your body close. A slam of the lock erupts through the apartment, but you have no time to worry over the noise when he’s wrapping arms around your body to hoist you up and into his hold. Legs tighten against his waist as he carries you through the apartment and toward your bedroom.

As urgent kisses are pressed against one another's skin, your hands lock around his neck until the moment he places you down against soft, cool sheets. Your body is so flushed and warm, it sends a chill down your spine, and as he tugs the straps of your dress to peel the thin fabric from your body, you're already shaking for his touch once more.

When you think you're about to be full of his cock thrusting deep inside of you, giving you what you have been dying for ever since you stepped foot into the apartment building, he suddenly drops to his knees to bury his head between your thighs. A jerk of your body with legs tightening around him signals your surprise, but you're more than happy to allow him to finish what he started as his tongue quickly begins working against your clit.

His deep groans vibrate your body as he massages the throbbing bud, so eager and desperate to get you off, to have you dripping and coming just for him. A whine of his name ripples through the air as he sucks your clit with his lips pressed tight, both hands flat against your thighs to keep you in place once your back arches from the bed. He lacks mercy, switching between long strokes of his tongue and sucking diligently against your flesh to drive your body wild, drawing you closer and closer to your end.

A sense of urgency overwhelms him the moment he feels your legs twitching around him. Your moans of his name settle into breathy whimpers once the bliss begins to build from between your thighs. His eager tongue works wonders against your skin, drawing out every second of pleasure until the moment you’re gasping in a simple warning of reaching your peak.

As your hips roll against his mouth, he happily laps up your juices through the ecstasy he’s filled you to the brim with. He loves the way you tremble in his hold and loves pinning your body to the bed as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you. You cry out his name once you can regain your breath, hands reaching for the strands of his hair to tell him it’s too much, you can take no more, but your attempt fail while he flicks his tongue over your clit again and again.

With your body slacking against the bed, he finally relieves you of the overwhelming sensation when he pulls his mouth away. You’re spent and trying to catch your breath, watching him behind sleepy eyes tug his sweatshirt over his head to toss to the floor. His pants come next, long, slender fingers making quick work of his button and zipper, and it only takes a few seconds before you’re laying eyes on his painfully hard cock.

A faint mutter of his name stops him as he returns to the bed with his legs tucked beneath him, hands on your hips. A few more deep breaths to try to gain your energy is all it takes to have his eyes growing wide, waiting as patiently as he can for your next words, even if his cock is throbbing, aching, and dying to be inside of you. “C-condom…”

He frowns, brow wrinkling at the simple word, but he doesn’t take it a step further, stalling with your legs parted around him and the tip of his length pressed to your dripping folds. “But…”

“I know,” you huff, not having the energy or the time to explain to him that yes, even if you’re on the pill, there are such things as needing protection when you’ve been drinking and may have forgotten tonight’s dose. Or, maybe you didn’t forget, but between the nerves of the date, drinks, and him teasing you on the elevator, your mind is swarmed with too many things at once. Your body still tingles and you’re having a hard time concentrating with his cock pressed to your slit, so you grumble at him again. “Just grab one from my drawer.”

With that, you pull your legs away, tucking them close to your body to let him know you mean serious business. Though he would happily oblige to your request of being safe, he doesn’t take kindly to you teasing him when he’s too worked up and aching to be inside of you. But he says nothing else as he slips off the bed after giving your exposed ass a playful tap, jerking the handle of the drawer to the nightstand open and rummaging until he’s pulling out a foil package.

In one motion he rips open the wrapper and tosses it aside, rolling the rubber down onto his length as you watch his muscles flex and the veins in his arms bulge with every action. Even though you’re still sensitive and overwhelmed, watching him handle his cock has you yearning for him to sink deep within you, aching for a completely different reason that has heat swarming between your legs.

He doesn’t waste time gripping you by your hips to yank your body closer. A squeak floods his ears from your mouth, but he pays you or your desperate noises no mind, only needing to be inside of you as soon as possible.

You say his name with a gulp as he keeps one hand on his cock to ease the tip up and down your slit, the other pressed tight against your waist. “Wait, I’m still too sens-”

But your voice quickly fades the moment he lines the head of his cock to your entrance to thrust his hips forward, burying himself deep inside of you with one, swift motion that has you gasping and cursing and crying out his name. Your back arches from the bed and he’s quick to press his other hand to your body, holding you in place as he drags his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

You mutter a string of nonsense with his name, hand reaching to grasp his fingers against your body, nails digging into his skin to earn deep rumbles from his chest. He repeats the motion before you can get even a syllable more to leave your lips, hips twitching against your body, tip of his cock hitting deep within your walls. You whine his name again, jaw remaining slacked as his pace between your quivering thighs increases.

“What is it, baby?” he taunts you, voice straining, leaning forward with a hand leaving your hip to rest next to your head. His lips brush against your own as his body pins your legs between your chest and his, cock ramming deeper into you from the new angle as his name leaves your lips breathier than before. “You like my cock buried deep in your drenched pussy, don’t you?”

He nips your bottom lip after asking, causing the answer to become lost somewhere in the middle of whimpering his name and gasping. Your face twists in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smack against your ass and he thrusts himself harder into you. Your hand placed over his own gripping your waist tightens against him, nails leaving marks to let him know of the pleasure bursting each time he thrusts into you.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks through clenched teeth, deep and raspy and yearning to fill you up. Sweat begins to bead against his forehead once he pumps his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, and even the ones you lack the strength to release. “You can’t speak when I fuck you like this, huh? But I know you love it from how tight you’re squeezing around me, baby. How fucking hot and wet you are.”

The sinful words ring more than true, not even realizing how tightly you’re wound up, squeezing so hard around him with every thrust your vision is soon filled with white dots. The room begins to spin, air rushing to your head from holding your breath and the harder he fucks you, the deeper he thrusts, you know you won’t be able to keep hold of your sanity for long.

He senses your desperation in the way you cling to his body, scratches against his skin stinging in the most blissful way until he suddenly rises from the bed. His hands are back on your hips in seconds, pulling your lower half off the bed to join his body after thrusting into you with more force than before. Your body jerks from the sensation, bliss erupting from between your thighs to surge to every inch, shaking and calling out his name as he holds his cock deep within your walls.

As his thumb finds your clit, another gasp fills the bedroom. Quick, desperate circles are caressed into your skin, drawing you closer and closer to the edge once again. You tighten around him, squeezing him so damn hard he is tempted to lose all control right then, but he persists in bringing you pleasure for the second time. Making you weak. Making you overwhelmed. Making you come undone with a few more circles around your clit as your thighs twitch and your body arches.

As the pleasure bubbles and erupts between your legs, surging throughout your entire, trembling body, he quickly begins thrusting himself wildly into you. With both hands on your hips, he holds you close to him, fucking you through the sudden explosion of bliss and your vision is so blurred, all you can so is close your eyes tight. His fingers leave marks over your skin, pressing harder against your hip bones while coaxing every strained call of his name from your parted lips.

The warmth swells to reach every limb before your body is coming down from the high, so beyond sensitive you can't even form words. He continues to pump himself into your dripping, spasming walls with wild force, pants and huffs and deep groans hitting your ears as his end comes near. He loses control, getting lost in how wet you are as the noises mixed with his sounds of pleasure join the way you whimper, so exhausted and overwhelmed.

As his jaw falls open, releasing a final groan with his brow creasing and his eyes screwing shut, you feel him pulse inside of you, reaching his end a second before his hips slow. He drives into your body so deep for the last time, surrounded by your warmth squeezing him as he releases. His grip on your hips loosens, allowing your body to fall against the bed seconds before he’s lowering himself over you. His head presses to the crook of your neck, breaths heavy against your skin and you can’t help but to wrap your arms around him and invite him in.

The two of you lay in a sweaty mess of tangled limbs, trying to catch your breath after he pulls out of you. Though you love holding onto one another in a post-bliss haze, you can’t help but to feel sticky and messy after the pleasure you’ve experienced. The alcohol is quickly fading in your system as you begin to sober up, wanting nothing more than a quick, steaming shower before you pass out for the evening.

He seems to feel the same as he begins cleaning up the mess he made and tossing away the soiled wrappers. Sleepy eyes follow his every move, from tossing the trash in the bin next to your nightstand, to turning to you with a grin on his lips. You notice the way the muscles of his arms flex as he reaches for your ankle, playfully dragging your body closer with a gentle motion as you giggle in surprise.

“Hey!” You push against his chest once he’s gotten you to the edge of the bed and all wrapped up in his arms. He doesn’t let you go, even if you teasingly try to fight him to loosen his grip, only pressing his lips to your temple and you can’t help but to settle in his hold at the sweet gesture. Even your fluttering heart can’t allow you to deny how good it feels when he’s near, not being able to keep up the act for long.

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up,” he guides you from the bed, arm around your waist because he knows how difficult walking can be when you’re in such a state. “How does a bubble bath sound?” He’s only half joking from his tone, but the question still surprises you.

“So, our first date with dinner, drinks and games.” Your eyes narrow as you stop walking, earning his full attention peering down at you. “Then amazing sex and a bubble bath? Either I’ve got you whipped, or you’re just this thorough with all of your neighbors.”

The confusion on his face turns into a bright, wide smile, chuckling and shaking his head. “Only one neighbor,” he informs you, earning a giggle as he presses kisses to your lips between breaths, “but I have to admit...”

“Hm?” you hum just as he pulls your naked, worn out body flush to his.

And then he leans closer, whispering the next few words to have your heart racing all over again. “I may just be head over heels for you.”

264 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Yandere kny but make them turn into cats

I love love love this idea

It's one of my favorite fanfic setups

And I think maybe I’ll just make this a full-on series 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You are single, living in a house all by yourself

When suddenly you come across a large black cat with magenta eyes

“Awww, aren’t you a special baby!”

This cat walks into your life and refuses to leave

No like literally you see him around when you leave your day job at the beginning of the week

In the middle he’s walking you home

And by the end he’s meowing at you to let him inside when you come home

He’s demanding and kind of entitled but boy does he love the attention you give him

If you guessed this is none other than Muzan Kibitsuji

After realizing he’s been reduced to nothing but an average cat he has been trying to establish a way of life

He stalked you intensely before he decided to pick you

Blaming cat instincts when he has a strong urge to stay by your side

And for a while he gets just that

Waiting diligently for you outside your work and what not

You both have a routine where you two would head to your work together, go home together, and cuddle

Of course this changes when you scoop up two peculiar kittens

A burgundy short-hair and a black shorthair with an ombre orange and pink colored tail

Its Tanjiro and Nezuko!

As the babies they get special treatment immediately upsetting Muzan

Recognizing who they are he’s immediately going to try and kill them

But guess who gets the boot if he so much as raises a claw at them

“Bad Magenta, I will not tolerate this kind of behavior! You can come outside your room when you decide to behave.”

And because this demon king still wants his cuddles he’ll exist with those two since he has to

Funnily enough he’s not going to keep trying to kill them but instead work to discredit them

Someone knocked over vase you just bought

it wasn’t ‘Magenta’ who was playing with the shards no no

It was those naughty kittens

The same can’t be said for Tanjiro & Nezuko

At least for the first couple weeks they are very intent on killing the demon cat

Only for him to dodge and cuddle into you to escape their best attempts

“Aww Magenta? You don’t want to play with the babies? But they are calling for you so cutely, just look at them!”

Eventually they’ll realize just how weak they are as kittens and that the demon king won’t do anything while you’re in the picture so guess what

It's back to training!

“Aww Sparks is doing lil’ push-ups, I need to get my phone!”

And after awhile you once again fall into a rhythm with all three cats beginning to relate to each other more than they will ever admit

And they all agreed that they strictly will write off any grounds of friendship when they get back to their world

But until then…

Don’t make too big a deal out of it when you see the siblings curl up beside the older cat

Or when Magenta carries the kittens to the cat tree to groom them

From there both sides demons and demon-slayers appear in their cat forms before distributing them to your neighbors, family, and friends only allowed to visit occasionally

To even the score though I can see you taking in at least one more kitten and one more older cat

Maybe Rui as the kitten, and Giyuu Tomioka as the other adult cat

And while I don’t think they’ll immediately get along they’ll eventually understand it's no use trying to kill anyone

…at least not any of them that have been turned into cats

The other humans in this world are completely free game:

“How long have you been able to do that?”

It was late in the night and you were long since passed out along with the kittens who could stay asleep. Meanwhile Giyuu Tomioka stared intensely at the male with cat-like appendages as he flexed his hands and arms. When he saw the other adult cat writhing on top of his typical resting place on the fridge, he was silently hoping he was dying. Apparently he was just preparing to make this massive change, that just might destroy the harmony that everyone was used to. The water pillar sat in a tense position as he watched Muzan relearn to use his legs, quietly padding around the room picking up the objects of your home.

“Just recently.”

“Why?”

Based on their timeline Muzan was the first to arrive so this would mean that Tanjiro and Nezuko would be next. Deep blue eyes flickered to your bedroom where you laid with three kittens– a burgundy one, a black one with an ombre tail, and white one with red spots–all curled up together against your side. There was nothing stopping him from doing the worst to you and the kittens.

“I have been craving to settle a score with someone here…do you remember their landlord?”

The black cat nodded. The old man was nauseating to be around he smelt of hotdog water with a whiff of sewage. Before they had apparently been adopted in your care the old geezer would allow himself into your place obsessively running his hands along your furniture before inviting himself to go through your dirty laundry. Against Giyuu's better judgement he didn’t stop Tanjiro who left quite a few scratches on his leg before being flung away. At the time the hashira didn’t dare act as he feared his own well being but immediately regretted it when he heard the pained mewing of his recruit. And it was none other than the demon king himself who led the charge calling out to him as he stood in front of the kitten. Unfortunately after that the landlord threatened to evict you if the cats weren’t removed you refused and instead were met with the temper tantrum. The consensus in the old man's mind being that he murder them himself; claiming they were vermin and it was his job to remove them anyway.

“I do//”

“We’d be allowed to stay if the Land lord’s..estranged son were to take over couldn’t we.”

Gyuu’s pointed ears perked up, cocking his head at the implication. He didn’t approve, after all he’s dealt with ignorant people that he nonetheless still had to save. He jumped from his place on the coffee-table to stand on guard in front of the door.

“Don’t do this. If you do this you can’t go back!//” He exclaimed in his monotone mews as the cat-man proceeded to unlock the door. To halt him the former demon slayer cat swiped at his feet, momentarily triumphant as the cat man flinched back away from the door only to bend down lifting the cat into the air. His hold was firm and not careless; forcing the cat into a frozen state as he came to a realization. If a demon must kill to be sated why not let it feed on the ones that were essentially the same. For good measure the man with magenta cat-eyes looked unblinking into the dark-blue eyes of the cat.

“Don’t you want me to protect (Y/n)? To protect the kittens? To protect our peace?”

Hearing nothing from the previously vocal cat Muzan placed him back on the floor before heading out the door, beelining towards the landlord’s residence just beneath your apartment.

When Muzan made the move to militarize his newfound cat claws effectively spraying his naked form with the warm blood of the flailing man. He looked boredly at the gorish gunk on his hands noting the different level of power he now had; it wasn’t close to his previous power but it was something. As he began to carry out his plan, planting evidence and washing himself he came to a conclusion…

“It's nice fighting for someone. I'll be sure to do it again soon.”

999 notes · View notes

dear-mrs-otome · 11 months

Text

Silvio Ricci - Engagement Event - Another Terrible Summary

(Silvio: "W-what the?")

Standard Disclaimer: I do this for fun. I don’t, and never would, claim to be proficient at JP. There will be mistakes herein. There will be dialogue I choose to smooth out or change, because it feels choppy just straight translating. There will be the occasional snarky aside and irreverence and just plain summarizing. If you’re looking for 100% pure accuracy, without commentary or localizing, this is not for you. If you don’t mind that…then proceed, and I hope you enjoy! And please, support your local localizer (they make this stuff look easy) and Cybird by playing the games and routes when they come to English.

Things to know before this (THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SILVIO’S MAIN STORY):

It follows the romantic (or ‘canon’) ending to Silvio’s route, which means that he and Emma are already engaged seeing as how they were at the end of his route. It also references the circumstances surrounding that - how Emma posed as a disgraced noblewoman and rescued Silvio from his father and prison by demanding Silvio take responsibility for ‘debauching’ and rescue her honor via marriage. Silvio has also been officially named the king’s successor, and will be the next king of Benitoite when his fathers steps down. It also references the epilogue where Emma works herself ill, and how horrible of a person Silvio's mother was.

~~~~~~~~

The Jewel of the Ocean has been passed to Silvio - recently the news of this has begun to make the rounds through Benitoite, and the topic seems to be on everyone’s lips. The merchants especially are thrilled with this…but that’s not the only tea everyone’s spilling.

We open on a couple of merchants chattering away down by the docks about the approaching engagement ceremony for Prince Silvio where everything is made Official, and the two men are talking about the lucky lady in question. They say how rumors have it she’s a beautiful woman, on par with any national treasure - gifted too, and having had studied at Rhodolite’s court. She’s kind and dang near a saint.

One of them mentions too how he heard how crazy in love with her Silvio was, and how anytime the prince opens his mouth it’s to say something about her, and the other seems impressed and says how much he’s looking forward to the ceremony.

As they pass by and on their way, a figure darts into a nearby alley as if to make an escape…and we find Emma crouching down there, groaning about a stomachache and freaking out in her thoughts over why the heck everyone seems to think she’s some sort of PARAGON.

Silvio’s there, hand on her back and asking if she’s alright, and she confesses she might not be alright. Didn’t he hear all that?? Whose girlfriend are they talking about, this PARAGON OF BEAUTY AND GRACE AND TALENTS, this SAINTLY WOMAN.

Silvio says they’re talking about her, obviously, and Emma says is that really how I seem?!

She’s freaking out, clearly. She’d been super excited to come out on the town with Silvio when he’d asked, their first actual date in awhile, but she’d been totally unprepared for the rumors that are apparently going around about them.

“Doesn’t seem off to me,” Silvio says, matter of factly, and Emma’s over there like PRESS X TO DOUBT. Asking him how that’s so.

He kind of hems and haws a bit, awkward silence and he can’t look her in the eyes as he says she’s beautiful, and plenty capable, and other than being the whole being a bit sassy thing she’s got a pretty decent personality.

Emma’ stunned at actual legit compliments from Silvio, still processing as he points out that it’s better than them gossiping about things that aren’t true or are nasty isn’t it?

“But what about when I’m presented at the engagement ceremony and everyone’s got this sky-high expectations…” she frets. “Everyone will be disappointed when I don’t measure up, and they might say ‘She’s not good enough for Prince Silvio.’”

Of course she’s been giving it her all, ever since they decided to formally announce the engagement alongside the formal declaration of Silvio as the king’s successor. She’s been working her ass off from morning to night studying etiquette and everything else she might need to know as a princess, alongside getting her wardrobe ready and planning the details of the ceremony and the reception party…she’s exhausted, mentally and physically. But even so she wants to be woman worthy of Silvio, the next king.

She tackles him practically with a hug, setting Silvio spluttering and redfaced and reminding her for the umpteenth time she’s supposed to warn him before she does something like that - to which Emma rebuts that if she warns him he still sometimes tries to escape, so it’s best to surprise him.

Burying her face in those hella nice-smelling man tiddies, Emma takes a deep breath of Silvio-scent and is reenergized.

“Where’s your usual sass?” he asks. “Don’t let something like this intimidate you.” He tells her that if everyone’s saying good things about her, all she’s gotta do is be confident and stand tall. But he also chastizes her for being too stubborn and reminds her she doesn’t have to go so dang hard on all this.

“No, no,” Emma argues, saying that if she doesn’t work hard now when will she work hard?

“Not your whole life long,” Silvio counters. “I didn’t bring you here from Rhodolite to make you work yourself like a madwoman. I already told you what the gist of your most important job was, didn’t I?”

His words are a reminder of that day on the beach (at the end of his Romantic route) where he had told her what her most important duty was, as the woman of the next king: to dedicate all that she was to him, and in return he’d love her till she couldn’t stand it.

She's fluent enough in Silvio-ese to see those imperious words for what they really meant - he wants the kind of relationship where he can love and be loved in equal measure. And she realizes she must seem pretty exhausted if Silvio is worrying about her this much. He's bossy as all getup…but he's hella overprotective.

She lifts her head and there's those sea-blue eyes right in front of her - along with a suspicious Silvio. Who has right to be because she surprise kisses him. He's left wide eyed and surprised as she tells him she was thinking how she loves him.

He points out that came from left field and she’s just shrug - and then Silvio has his revenge by taking her chin in hand and laying a passionate kiss on her that has her scandalized. They’re still in public technically and all! He laughs at her hnnng face and she’s silently fuming over how only a few seconds ago it was him all embarrassed and now he’s Mr. Cocky, pouting as she looks away and he tousles her hair.

“Anyway, you get what I’m sayin’?” he asks.

She asks if he’s referring to her trying too hard, and he confirms - only to get angry again when she says she’ll accept his sentiment at least but she’s gotta be able to stand proudly beside him if he’s going to love her, and although he might worry about her she asks him to please let her do her best for now.

He’s glowering silently, and she tells him he’s got his scary face on.

He says it’s probably because she’s totally missing the point of what he’s trying to say, and she fires back that he’s too overprotective.

“Shaddup,” he scowls.

“But I love that about you too!” she declares, and he turns red and tells her not to get carried away. Clearly not disliking her claim - he’s just obviously embarrassed by it.

The whole situation might be literally making her feel ill, but she’s not about to back down from this challenge. If she’s gonna share a life with Silvio, she’s got to be able to handle something like this.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, Rio stops her in the hallway and asks if she’s doing alright. He’s gotten his memory back now and works as Silvio’s aide, but still never hesitates to show concern for her as well just as he always has.

He asks if she has a fever, and she’s dklsjfds HOW DID HE KNOW?? She had woken up that morning lethargic and unwell, but it’s nothing major - more like the bit of fever she’d come down with when she’d overworked herself when first coming to Benitoite.

She assures Rio she’s fine it’s nbd, but he’s not happy with that answer,worried it might get worse and urging her to take a day off or so - before he cuts himself off and realizes she can’t.

A fact she confirms, because she’s supposed to be hosting a party today to meet and greet many of the young noblewomen of the country before the engagement ceremony. It’s hella important for her to lay the groundwork of future relationships here, and to help her make friends and ease into Benitoite society better. So even if she has to push herself, she’s gotta make it through today at least.

“Rio, pleeeeaaase. Don’t say a word to Silvio,” she begs him.

“...If he finds out, he’ll lock you up for sure,” Rio agrees with chagrin. He’s clearly not thrilled with her request, but she knows he can’t deny her, and reluctantly he agrees to keep mum on this - but he tells her he’ll have medicine ready, and reminds her if she gets any worse to cancel things, consequences be damned. He and Silvio can more than handle the fallout, and it won’t reflect badly on her.

She thank him, glad that it was Rio who noticed she was sick. If it had been Silvio, she’s positive things wouldn’t have gone this smoothly…and she vows to herself to be sure to avoid him at all costs today.

~~~~~~~~

…Only for us to open the next scene aboard a ship, with a silently staring Silvio, and an oh shit Emma.

Given that she’s to be royalty, and given the traditions of Benitoite amongst the elite to throw parties not at mansions but on board ships, she’d asked Silvio to arrange one to host her party on. This particular vessel is one of Silvio’s own, and it wouldn’t be strange to see the owner aboard - if it had been a day without business meetings or other things on his agenda.

Why is he here?!?!

She’d been making the rounds, greeting all the ladies aboard before the ship was set to depart, when the tyrant himself had appeared all of a sudden and grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

She vehemently protests this idea, and he scowls over the fact that she can put up such an argument when she’s feverish - which has her now wondering how the eff does he know about her being sick?! No wait, more importantly, she KNOWS he’s got a packed schedule today!

She’s digging in her heels just as hard as he’s trying to drag her off, insisting all the while that he’s just imagining things.

“If you think I’m gonna buy that, you must have a flower garden for a brain,” he fires back. (Hello Motonari?)

“Flower garden or whatever, read the room!” she scolds him, At first, most people didn’t seem to know what to make of her as the next king’s fiancée…and now they’re all just looking on this scene in shock. The whole party is ruined!

He scoffs at the need to do anything of the sort, and as she keeps trying to resist he finally just picks her up and goes to make off with her.

“Knock it off,” Rio sighs. “Can’t you see she’s not having any of this?”

Now Emma’s stunned, realizing Rio is there too and blocking Silvio’s path, shaking his head. Silvio says he doesn’t give a shit if she doesn’t like it, and Rio reminds him he should and urges him to put Emma down.

“If I put her down, she’ll run away,” Silvio counters.

“If you know she’s gonna run away, then you clearly know you shouldn’t be forcing her,” Rio frowns.

“Shut up. I don’t need you telling me what to do,” Silvio argues.

Emma realizes it’s no use when Silvio’s gotten himself worked up like this, and if she throws a fit and ends up getting herself hurt it’ll just make him all depressed. She tries to shoot Rio a wink to say it’s alright, and seeing this Rio immediately goes into crisis-containment mode - apologizing to all the guests for the fuss his ‘idiot brother’ has made with his usual charm and charisma.

In moments he has all the ladies gathered there eating out of his hand, showing off his now-practiced socialite face, the one he’s been honing more now that he’s in the public eye as Silvio’s aide.

While a grateful Emma watches him charm them all, she suggests to Silvio they take this somewhere else to talk and he seems to agree. Still pissy though as he kicks in the door to a nearby room on the ship and carries her inside the space as luxurious as any fine room on land.

The silence though is so absolute you could hear a pin drop, only the sound of the wind and the waves, before Silvio finally speaks.

“Did you take any medicine?” he asks, taking a seat on a chair. Still holding Emma in his arms.

She tells him she did, before she came aboard, but realizes that if he doesn’t know whether she did or not he clearly must not have talked to Rio. Not to mention she highly doubts Rio would break his promise to her. “How did you know I was sick?”

He says she just doesn’t seem to have her usual vim and vigor, and that has her taken aback slightly to realize that Silvio’s been paying close enough attention to her to take note of such a minor change.

“When would you have noticed that?” she asks, baffled. There shouldn’t have been any occasion for him to see her that morning.

“When you were talking with everyone back at the port,” he explains.

“You’ve been watching me for awhile then, I take it?” she asks, but he refuses to answer that. “What about your work?”

“...It’s all finished,” he finally replies.

She’s still in disbelief at that, because the day is hardly even close to over, but Silvio waves it off as merely being damn good at his job. Emma’s not buying this though, and she points out that even if he IS hella capable it seems impossible he’d have the time to come by the port after his work was done.

Scowling he tells her to knock the line of questioning off - he’s clearly not interested in spending any more time on the topic, and he tells her once again they should leave.

There’s still a million things she wants to say, but she settles on this. “Do you really not trust me?” He wants to know why that’s even a question, and she goes on to elaborate. “Even if I say I’m fine, you seem to refuse to believe me at all.”

He lapses into a shocked silence at that.

It’s the same thing as yesterday, Emma thinks. Silvio worries about her more than anyone else in the world, and he’s trying to shelter and protect her as his fiancée…but that’s not what she wants. If she back down here, if she lets him have his way, he’ll spoil her for the rest of her life.

Meeting his displeased gaze, she cradles his cheeks in her hands. “Is your fiancée such a frail woman? Did I not once rescue a prince locked in prison?” His expression sobers as she goes on. “I love ‘Overprotective Silvio’ too, but…trust me now. And when it’s all over, you can tell me ‘good job’ all you want. I’m not marrying you to be cosseted - I want to be your betrothed so that we can stay by each other’s side and be there for each other in the hard times and the good.”

Silvio remains silent, and she can’t read his expression well enough to tell if he’s convinced or not. So, feeling as if she has no other choice…she takes him off guard with a swift kiss to the deep frown carved in his forehead and slips off his lap as he’s still stunned, racing out the door and back to freedom outside.

“Ah, damn it, she ran away.” Silvio curses aloud in the empty room…before he quietly states that she hasn’t said anything he doesn’t already know.

~~~~~~~~

PREMIUM END: HIS POV

Ever since I fell in love with that woman, I’ve been saying strange things. Even though I know it’s all just a burden on her…

From the shadows of the back alley, Silvio sneaks a peek at Emma chatting with the women at the port. The dress she’s wearing today is supposed to be a simple, refined design - but when Emma wears it she’s stunning, like a rose in bloom that charms everyone with its beauty. It’s a sight he could stare at forever….but he sighs when he feels the presence of someone else in the empty alley.

“Hey, don’t follow me, damn dog,” he grumbles at Rio.

Rio scoffs at that. “It’s my job to bring back the idiot prince who left his job.”

Silvio’s annoyed by that, as Rio comes to stand beside him and look over at him incredulously. Silvio defends his leaving by saying he’s done the essentials at least, but Rio points out there’s still a bunch of paperwork left to tackle.

“It’s fine if it waits until tomorrow. I’ve got more important things to do,” Silvio argues.

“You’re too overprotective, no two ways about it,” Rio sighs.

“Shut up,” Silvio retorts. “ She doesn’t exactly take very good care of herself, so better overprotective than not.”

Rio doesn’t say anything in reply to that, and Silvio lapses into musing to himself how Emma just casually does reckless things - she’d already worked herself into collapsing from fever once before. And when he’d taken her out on the town the other day, it was obvious the pressure and exhaustion were getting to her. Trying to reassure her about the rumors the merchants were spreading due to his own infatuation had only seemed to make things worse, and made him worry more. Hence his clandestine party watching.

He was right to come, though, he reasons as he clicks his tongue with irritation at the distant Emma and observes she’s def not feeling well.

“You noticed?” Rio asks, and Silvio points out to him how Emma’s lacking her usual spark. Rio seems surprised that Silvio can tell that from even this far away…but to himself, Silvio thinks how it’s not any wonder he could see that, given how much time he spends watching Emma.

But…can he really let her go to that party in such a state??

He takes a step forward as if to follow her onto the boat, only for Rio to stop him. “Hey! Don’t interrupt! You know Emma doesn’t want your help.”

That just pisses Silvio off, that Rio thinks he knows what Emma’s thinking. But most of all, he hates this - he can’t stand seeing Emma in pain or suffering.

~~~~~~~~

After the party, in the carriage he’s stuffed Emma into the moment it was over, the world’s longest and most awkward silence reigns until Emma’s finally fed up.

“Ahhhhrgh! What’s with the silence?!” she cries.

Silvio can’t think of what to say though, wracked with guilt as Emma’s words keep coming back to him.

“Do you really not trust me?”

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in her, things just sort of ended up this way, and he’s frustrated trying to think of what else he should have done. Is she really trying to tell him that leaving her to her fever was the right thing to do?? He’s got things he wants to say to her, but he can’t seem to get his thoughts together well enough to articulate it no matter how desperately he wants to…and he only grows more frustrated with himself for not being able to put his feelings into words.

“If you have something to say, just say it!” she tells him.

“Sick people shouldn’t be shouting,” he scowls.

“I am not sick,” Emma argues.

He tells her not to lie, even as he concedes that her complexion’s improved at least. Putting a hand to her forehead to test her temperature, which seems normal now.

She suggests it might be due to her stress finally having ended, but to himself Silvio still vows to have a doctor take a look at her when they get home.

“You had a stomach ache the other day, and a fever today,” Silvio frowns.

“It’s fine to be a bit under the weather, as long as you get through it,” Emma counters. To himself he thinks that he’d do something about it long before it got to that point, but his train of thought is cut off when she prompts him again. “So, back to the subject -”

He’s still silent, unable to find the words, and feigns ignorance as he pointedly stares out the window to avoid her. The sea outside the carriage is calm, but his heart is in turmoil, as if struck by some great storm.

“The ocean is beautiful today, isn’t it?” Emma asks, seemingly having given up on the conversation as she looks out at the scenery as well.

“You wanna stop and see?” he offers, and she asks if that’s okay.

He tells her he’s got nothing else going on today…but he’s thinking how much he knows going to the beach makes her happy. And he’ll get this all straightened out, he’s determined.

With the sunset for a backdrop, he and Emma stroll along the beach - but he can’t stop the frown from creeping back onto his face, and Emma is too sharp to miss the expressions he makes.

“Are you angry?” she asks finally.

“Not with you,” he replies.

“Then, who are you angry with?” she presses.

“Myself of course, I guess,” he admits, and falls into his own thoughts again.

He knows the sort of woman Emma is, and yet he dared try and stomp all over her will. And worst of all, even though he was aware of it, all he could seem to do was annoy her.

Truth be told he, he’s really pissed at himself.

Emma comes to a stop, and he does as well a few steps later. The sound of the crashing waves seeming to chide the silence.

“I know it’s a selfish worry,” Silvio begins. He says that he knows being exhausted or anxious isn’t any sort of reason to shirk your role, and that he knows she wants to fulfill her duty as the king’s consort perfectly. Even though it’s not easy, he shouldn’t have thought trying to escape it was the right thing.

“You realize all that, and yet you still tried to take me away today?” Emma presses.

He admits that he does, he gets all of this and he knows all of it, but he still can’t help what he thinks. “I don’t want you to have to suffer because of me…” Silvio says, resigned. “I honestly don’t know how to make the woman I love happy.”

In the past, he was always surrounded by nothing but money. Never truly wishing to make someone else happy, so he’s clueless in this regard. But…Emma’s happiness is the only thing he ever wants. If money could buy it for her, he’d gladly spend every last penny he had…but that would never work.

He’s at a complete loss, fumbling like some kind of child. And that feeling has only grown stronger as the preparations for their engagement ceremony began and the burden fell harder on Emma. Working herself half to death like this, is she really happy?? True happiness should be her having the freedom to laugh, foolishly carefree, all the time.

He’s well aware that he’s hopelessly lost here, because he doesn’t understand the happiness of others.

“Sometimes, it occurs to me…” Emma begins, and he looks at her quizzically. “That you’re pretty adorable, aren’t you, Silvio!”

Scowling and redfaced, he asks if she’s trying to pick a fight - here he is, tying himself up into knots over this and she’s over there grinning?!

He grabs her head and musses it a bit, and she laughs out apologies.

“Quit grinning,” he grouses.

“People tend to do that when they’re happy,” she tells him, and he wonders aloud what exactly about what he just said made her feel happy. “All of it.”

He’s baffled, but Emma goes on to tell him she’s happy every day, actually.

“That’s coming from the woman who was on the ground with a stomachache yesterday?” he argues.

Emma says she was mostly joking around, and he was egging it on kind of too even, wasn't he? He’s still confused how that would make her happy, and she tells him it DOES, because it’s obvious how Silvio loves her with every bit of himself…a revelation that only leaves him stunned.

“I can do my very best every day because of you, and I want to work through it,” she explains. “You are my happiness.”

He’s unable to process this, reeling as he tries to puzzle it out. Emma is adored by so many people, unlike him - he never considered that something as simple as being loved would bring her happiness.

Aloud, he wonders if his worries seem stupid, and if something that simple is really enough to make her happy.

“It’s not that simple,” she assures him. “You’re the first person who makes me happy just by being there.”

He’d thought…that it was just him that felt like that. That surely Emma, who is used to being loved by everyone, would feel differently.

Or so he’d thought.

Without even realizing it, a smile comes to his face.

“Silvio…are you happy?” Emma asks.

He gives her crap about her eyes being blind, before admitting that he wouldn’t be smiling if he wasn’t happy right? She joyfully agrees, and offers him a smile brighter and more dazzling than the setting sun. The look of someone truly happy.

He does have something he wants to say to her - it’s finally hit him. Even with his worry for her, the overprotectiveness and being a burden on her, there’s just one feeling he wants to be sure she’s aware of.

“I’ll say this just one time,” he tells her, schooling his expression to seriousness. The midsummer sun shining on him, so hot he’s practically sweltering…but he wants to be sure he shares this with her before the ceremony. He takes a deep bracing breath of the sea breeze, and blows it out. “You’re the only one I’d ever be such a fool in love for.”

I can’t remember who I was before I met you, he thinks. That’s how crazy he is about her.

“I’m only going to say that once in my life,” he prompts her again, as she remains utterly silent. Vaguely affronted as her face remains turned down at the words he’d thrown away all his shame and pride to utter. “How can you not say anything?”

Now it’s just getting embarrassing, and he’s silently pleading with her to say something, anything at all. Grasping her chin and tilting her head up - only to find Emma’s face bright red, the deep blush covering even her ears and neck. Not a trace of her usual sass to be found.

“D-don’t look at me!” she sputters.

He’s blown away by her face, before he grins and tells her she’s 100% adorable, which only has her gasping that it’s a low blow to say something like that now.

He’ll take the cheater accusation though, gladly, he says…and to himself he’s thinking how gd frigging much he loves her as he steals those warm lips. Kissing her to keep her from realizing how head over heels he is too.

This moment, mesmerized and lost in her, with the sound of the waves crashing distantly - this is the most priceless of treasures. Something he could never ever buy, not with all the riches in the world.

~~~~~~~~

A few days later, the ceremony takes place to name Silvio heir and Emma his fiancee properly. Thanks to her efforts, the party goes off splendidly…

For some reason, the soon-to-abdicate king stops Silvio in an out of the way corner. He’s frustrated at being kept from Emma, but he bites back the urge to lash out over the waste of time.

“Hey, old geezer. If you don’t have shit to say, I’m gonna leave,” Silvio warns.

“Still talking like that? If you’re going to be king, you should at least clean up that filthy mouth,” the king warns.

Silvio says he only talks like that to the king, and he dismisses him, ready to leave, when the king stops him. He tells Silvio they’re not finished talking yet, and he offers the prince a drink. Practically shoving it into Silvio’s hand and filling it to the brim - a tradition for greeting and for blessing happy occasions in Benitoite.

Unhappy but unable to refuse, Silvio drains the glass in one go…and the old man does the same.

“You…” the old king begins. “Aren’t really like ‘her’ after all, I guess.”

The ‘her’ in question is his mother, Silvio knows. And just thinking of the woman who laughed as she tried to murder the current queen countless times makes him feel sick to his stomach. “Who’d wanna be like that bitch? I have no interest in being some kind of beast. Course, I’ve got no interest in being a nasty old codger like you either.”

The old king angrily says Silvio’s got a real gift for distracting him. “I thought I’d congratulate you even if it’s just a formality, but I guess that’s not necessary.”

“Ha, just now figuring that out?” Silvio scoffs.

The only one the king’s ever given a shit about was that fucking dog - it seems too late to try and be putting on an air of fatherly concern now, Silvio thinks. He slams the glass down on a nearby table and turns away.

“Do a good job, Silvio,” the king says to his back. “...It’s hard work making a woman happy in this position.”

He doesn’t need to be told something like that, he thinks. He already knows. The current queen has had her life threatened many times because of her position, and the king can’t keep her safe from everything. “Don’t worry, old man,” he tells the king as a parting shot. “Unlike you, I’m plenty capable.”

I’ll never make you unhappy, is his silent vow to Emma.

~~~~~~~~

Back in Silvio’s room, he’s got a new trial to deal with - the fact that by the time he escaped the old man and made it back to Emma, it was clearly too late. His fiancee is utterly obliterated after being toasted by so many well-wishers, and is uncharacteristically rather tipsy. Giggling at him and generally acting drunk now that they’re safely in private, although she’d managed to keep it together at the party and present a sober front.

She pleads with Silvio to acknowledge how well she did after drinking so much, and he grudgingly does - scowling though as he says how everyone in Benitoite is used to this sort of thing as a celebration but she’s from Rhodolite and not yet, so she shouldn’t overdo it.

“Okaaaaay,” she draws out.

“Can you drink some water?” he asks, and she proudly agrees she can manage that, downing a glass…but she’s getting as much of it on herself as she is in her mouth, spilling out around the edges.

“No, clearly you can’t. Are you doing that on purpose?” he asks suspiciously - it wouldn’t be the first time Emma has pretended to be drunk around him. (She does this in his route and forces him to carry her back to the carriage) But he’s pretty sure she’s not faking it this time…and he’s trying real hard not to be a perv and ogle the way she’s gotten the whole front of her dress wet.

He pushes the naughty thoughts aside and takes a nearby cloth to dry her off, which leads to her smiling up at him all dazedly and hugging him tightly.

“W-what the?” he asks, flustered.

“Silvio…tonight…is the first night since we got engaged,” she points out.

He’s still redfaced and silent as he notices the Benitoite gem winking on her ring finger, the one he’d given her as an engagement ring. An unmistakable reminder of the way their relationship had officially changed that leaves him reeling.

“I—I want to tell you that I love you a lot,” Emma goes on. “I love you so much Silvio!!”

And he’s left at an utter loss as to what he should do now…

TBC in epilogue!

~~~~~~~~

taglist: @violettduchess @just-simping-over-genshin @sakura-samsara

Want to be added to the taglist for summaries? Comment on this post!

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #spoiler #spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #mrs o's translations of dubious quality #have i mentioned lately how much i love them as a couple #and i love his MC

253 notes · View notes

fizzy-fuzz · 6 months

Note

Hello fellow 079 lovers/simps I love you all!!!!!

May I request 079 x reader headcannons or short fic where they're playing some sort of game like pong, connect 4, chess, etc. and reader is frustrated because they can't seem to win?

-🫑

This is such a cute idea, 🥺 love it.

Wrote in the perspective of 079, because why not?

throwing in the name of love. (SCP-079 x GN reader)

A chess board lies in front of him, his monotone voice occasionally speaking out to signal you where to move his next piece. This is 24th game you've both played, he hasn't lost once, of course. chess is a very logical game, much to his benefit.

His attention drifts away from the bored and to your face. his time spent with you allows him to read you like a book, though you don't have to be as involved with you as he is to understand that you're feeling frustrated.

"ugh, what's the point of even playing if I know you're going to beat me?" You huff out angrily as he once again beats you.

His processors pause as he analyzes your words. You've been having a less then stellar day, much to his displeasure...

You had gone to do your laundry only to find out your washer broke, and when you called a repair man you had been told that the soonest appointment you could get was a week off; so you went to walk to the laundry mat only to for it to downpour on way back.

By the time you made it home you were soaking wet, and brimming with frustration; venting to him about it while drying off.

Him being the supporting companion he is, offered you both play a few friendly games of chess to clear your mind... But it appears he may have made a miss calculation somewhere, as apparent by your last sentence.

He's not one to throw a game to spare someones fragile feelings, but when he looks to your furrowed brows and agitated breathing he begins to feel a little... bad.

So despite his internal reluctantly, he takes a different approach.

"let us participate in one more game" and with that, he sets his plan into motion.

He starts the game the same as the last, knocking down your pawns with the best possible moves. but right when you go to let out another aggravated sigh, he purposely makes an awful move.

"huh? Did you mean to do that seven? I can move it back" your hand hovers over the piece as you look back to him.

his hardware warms as you offer to fix his blatant mistake, your generosity makes him feel better about his decision to go against his competitive nature and let you win.

"Negative... leave it as is"

This pattern continues for awhile; he makes a few okay moves to make it seem legitimate, only to make a terrible move and allow you to get the upper hand, untill-

"Ah-ha! Checkmate!" Your overjoyed voice rings out with a sparkle in your eyes.

"good game" he says it almost automatically, far to enraptured by your small celebration.

He doesn't even feel bitter about his chosen defeat, instead he feels satisfied by your considerably better mood. And it's only now he realizes that your happiness...

Is far sweeter then any victory he could imagine.

#scp x reader #scp 079 x reader #scp-079 x reader #scp foundation #scp 079 #old ai #scp x you #scp-079 #079 #x reader

64 notes · View notes

tender-hearteddd · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞

bertholdt x fem!reader

modern au, college au, established relationship, slight music nerd bertholdt, bertholdt is above 6’4, reiner ships you and bert so hard (´◡`)

wc - 4.0k

warnings - kissing, overthinking, insecurities abt relationship, kinda bad 😭

a/n - wrote this on a whim when i was on my work break so it’s not the best 🙁 unedited and kinda messy

bertholdt loves it when it's just you two.

having his head cuddled between your plush thighs as you play with his brunette shag you hoped he never cut - watching the princess diaries in a comfortable silence you two shared so often that came with a growing mutual understanding of your budding relationship. he kisses the side of your plush thigh once in awhile when you run your hands over the side of his head in that way you always do when youre positioned like this on nights like these - when reiner is gone slaving away at practice right before the big game and it's just you two showering each other with affection.

that's until reiner comes back to his shared apartment with his best friend of over 5 years.

"reiner!" bertholdt slightly yelled like it was bloody murder. bertholdt quickly stood up, getting his abnormally big head (and big body) away from your thighs trying to act like nothing was happening - which was exactly happening. bertholdt accidentally pulled you off the couch as he frantically got up, a thud coming under you and a sympathetic look coming from bertholdt. sure - bertholdt loves showering you with his affection, but he'll never actually parade it in front of others, including the person who has seen him naked several times.

"what are you doing here?" he stupidly asked like him and reiner haven’t been living together for a whole year now.

"oh you know - coming back to my lovely home after a long day at practice.” reiner explains as he drops his gym bag and take off his sneakers, not acknowledging his best friends awkwardness to make him and you feel better.

it’s been a routine for the past couple of months. he’ll come home, see you and bertholdt cuddling, lost in your own world, and bertholdt being abruptly deported from his own little world with you whenever reiner appears into the living room.

reiner finds it slightly entertaining, not just how embarrassed bertholdt gets but the way bertholdt can easily be this close to you; you’ve created your own world with each other, speaking a language only you and bertholdt can understand. sure bertholdt’s awkward tendencies get in the way of him showing his love for you but reiner can see the way you love each other when he sees you two giggle at the plural form of ball.

and when you scold him for eating peanuts ever since he found out he was allergic to them because during your guys first date, they brought out a bowl of peanuts as an appetizer and apparently peanuts aren’t supposed to hurt your mouth like that (yet he still eats them).

and when he makes CDs for you filled with the static noise he calls music reiner and annie can’t stand yet you somehow like it.

and when you made reiner secretly steal all his pants one by one so you could tailor them to fit into his long legs.

and when bertholdt loves you to the point where he creates and you love him to the point where you can invent.

and when bertholdt gets too lost in his head, and reiner or annie never know what to do, but somehow you’re the only who could find him, and when bertholdt makes sure you don’t ever get lost, ever.

and when reiner comes home, after a long day at football practice, and he catches a quick glimpse into your shared world with bertholdt, speaking your own language, and he sees how he becomes you and you become him in the way you two hold each other. reiner likes this bertholdt, don’t get him wrong, he also likes awkward bertholdt a lot as well but he knows bertholdt is a lot more than an awkward sweaty lanky mess. he’s just happy that bertholdt has someone to be himself around - even his awkward self. and reiner would totally try pushing bertholdt to be more comfortable with holding you in front of others but right now, he smells like wet grass and total ass and he can’t feel his legs; trying to push bertholdt out of his box will have to wait.

apart, scratch that, a good chunk of you finds it insulting. like him being your boy and you being his girl is hell on earth. you know bertholdt loves you. of course he does! you’re his own prayer. but sometimes - he gets up a little too fast whenever reiner comes home, and it makes you do the unthinkable; overthink.

which is exactly what you’re doing right now as bertholdt helps you up the floor and you could feel his once dry palm, which he used to play with the side of your thighs as you played with his hair, now moist do to his nervousness. you sighed under your breath and grabbed your jacket and bag from the front door.

“alright, gonna take this as my sign to leave.” you said avoiding eye contact with bertholdt and reiner while zipping up your jacket.

bertholdt knows you’re annoyed. and he knows you’ll tell him that it’s fine.

“good luck tomorrow reiner!” you yelled as you were making your way out the door.

“wait!” bertholdt ran after you, swiftly putting on his house slippers, “let me walk you out!” bertholdt grabbed the top of the door frame preventing it from slamming, ducked his tall body under the door frame, and gently closed the door making sure he wouldn’t bother reiner.

you waited for him as he jogged a short distance to catch up to you.

“hey,” he greeted you like you weren’t hanging out the whole day.

you know you should say hi back, you always do, but you know what he always does? he always pushes you away when reiner comes home. and it’s not his fault for being so shy, but still, can’t a girl hold her boyfriend in peace?

“are you mad?” bertholdt asked with the worried look on his face he always seemed to have.

“no.” you briskly told him, keeping your eyes forward.

bertholdt sighs as he pushes the button for the elevator to go down. your arms are crossed as you wait for one of the elevators to be available. usually you and bertholdt would talk about everything and nothing - why he hates his philosophy professor, king krule possibly coming to paradis, if you should get those jeans from jaded london, giving him a fake palm reading just to touch his hands, looking at the view from the window in the elevator room and people-watching into the apartment complex across the street - but right now, it’s silent, and not the comfortable kind you two always have but the “please don’t be mad” kind.

“are you sure you’re not mad?” he asks, a little exasperated watching you walk into the elevator while you try to avoid eye contact. he walks in after you, distracted from how worried he is about you, the tall oaf ends up hitting his head on the sill of the elevator.

“Ow!” he rubs his forehead with his pointer finger and his thumb trying to numb the pain. he ducks down to the mirror of the elevator to check for any bleeding and catches you trying not to laugh your ass off at your oaf of a boyfriend. you have the prettiest smile, he swears. he tries to suppress his own smile as he hears you fail and you erupt into snorts and giggles.

“do I have to hurt myself in order for you to acknowledge me?” he jokingly asks.

“yes.” you respond as you still have a grin on your face from your fit of laughter not too long ago. bertholdt presses the button to go down to the garage, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek to reassure you about whatever you’re upset about.

bertholdt walks you to your car, still a little cautious around you.

“what’s on your mind? i know something’s wrong.” bertholdt steps in front of you, preventing you from going any further to your car. bertholdt isn’t letting you go to sleep tonight feeling like this.

“it’s nothing really.” and it really is nothing, to you at least but not to bertholdt.

“it’s something.” bertholdt quickly retorts gently bringing his hand to yours.

you’re a little emotional, you’ve always been.

“can you just hold me? there’s no one around.” you reassure him. bertholdt’s heart stings at your act of reassuring him. bertholdt looks around for a moment and hugs your body to his in the empty parking garage, feeling your specific type of inviting warmth to his chest and having the smell of your vanilla coconut leave in conditioner scent hug his nose. he’s leaning against your car as you lean into him.

“are you mad because i pull away from you whenever reiner comes home?” he gently asks as he gave you a kiss on your head.

“im not mad, just..”

bertholdt gives you all the time to continue.

“just..are you embarrassed of being in a relationship with me or something?” you look up at him, slightly teary eyed, hoping he wouldn’t notice. but he does; because he wants to make sure you’ll never get lost.

“no! of course im not!” he furrows his eyebrows at you. you stare up at him looking if he’s telling the truth. and you know he is but overthinking gets the best of you sometimes. “you should be the one embarrassed to be in a relationship with me!” bertholdt jokes to make you feel better.

you smile as you hug him tighter, “never.”

“it’s just sometimes i feel like you are embarrassed of me.” you push the side of your face into his chest, avoiding eye contact once again.

“I’m not.” and he isn’t. bertholdt looks down at you with sympathy in his eyes, rubbing and kneading your back. he knows you deserve someone who can hold you whenever they please.

“you know how shy I get.” bertholdt reassures you that it’s his problem, not yours.

“i know.” you tell him. “i don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just want you to hold me, just right now.”

“trust me, holding you doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

bertholdt holds you in his strong arms like you’re a dove. every touch from him is carefully placed. you pout your lips signaling for a small kiss. as soon as he reaches down to give you a quick kiss, the tip of his ears red from his meekness, here comes porco galliard and his loud ass car beeping twice at you two. your eyes crinkle at his cars bright ass headlights and bertholdt lets you go from his grasp, not wanting porco to see the monstrous act of holding his girlfriend.

“give this to reiner for me!” the boy named after a pig yelled through his rolled down passenger window and threw out reiner’s jockstrap, bertholdt catching it as he let out a sigh of dissent. porco irresponsibly and annoyingingly, may I add, sped out of the garage, bertholdt yelling at him to slow down.

your eyebrows furrowed in distress when your giant of a boyfriend let you go. you watch as he slightly jogs after the speeding car and yells at the pig man driving it to slow down. bertholdt walks towards you, the dissatisfied look in your eyes wishing he kissed you a few moments earlier. bertholdt gives you a sympathetic smile as he held reiner’s jockstrap in between his fingers.

“bye,” you curtly smile back and tried as fast as you could to get into your car as you ignored your boyfriends goodbyes.

bertholdt watched your car drive out of the parking garage, a disappointed groan coming from his body.

the olive skinned boy closes his apartment door with a sigh. it pains him to know that there’s apart of you, that may grow into a chunk, that thinks he’s ashamed of you. and you know he isn’t, but he knows how you overthink. hell, he can’t blame you. if he was in your position, he would think the same thing too.

but bertholdt is shy - painfully shy, almost like he’s cursed to be this way forever, and it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you the way he does behind closed doors in front of others. if bertholdt could, he’d have you attached to the hip.

bertholdt is just…how you say - modest.

one touch, and he knows he’s gone.

it took him at least three months into the relationship for him to even comfortably hold you, and took him another three for it to become a regular thing. every touch from your fingertips is a modified blow, and bertholdt is made of glass. the first time you molded your hands to the side of his face, he swore he shattered into a thousand pieces. and you put him back all together. you touch him like a prayer, a prayer only you two understand. the first time you touched bertholdt, when you held his face, or when he laid his head in between your thighs, or when his senses are overloaded with you - bertholdt feels his heart take root in his body, discovering something he doesn’t even have a name for.

so it’s not that bertholdt is embarrassed, he just craves even the slightest brush of your fingertips against his skin too much.

“You forgot your jockstrap.” bertholdt throws it to a now freshly showered reiner, who is currently eating his second bowl of lucky charms right now.

“thanks.” states a tired reiner.

reiner put his now empty bowl in the sink while bertholdt got ready for bed.

“goodnight bertholdt.” reiner slaps bertholdt’s flat ass.

“goodnight reiner.” bertholdt does the same to reiner.

reiner yawns and before closing his bedroom door, he peeks his head out, and with tired eyes and a tired voice, he tells his best friend since middle school,

“if you could slap my ass every night, you can hold your girl without being a scaredy cat about it by the way.”

bertholdt looks back at him with a surprised look on his face.

“you should hold her more.” reiner states before he kicks his bedroom close and going to sleep for his game tomorrow.

and bertholdt agrees.

these intrusive thoughts aren’t letting you sleep. the many times bertholdt has pushed your affection away in front of others is making you cringe and the little voice inside your head is not letting you forget them. there’s a devil and angel on your shoulders arguing whether he really loves you or not. you’re being dramatic, no you’re not, yes you are. all you really want is your boyfriend to hold you. is that too much to ask? you wanna cry but you don’t let yourself, bertholdt would let you. you let out a frustrated sigh and grab your phone from your nightstand. a second ago it was only 12 but now it’s almost 3 o clock in the morning. to hell with these intrusive thoughts.

bertholdt <3: Just wanna say goodnight and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I hope you feel better in the morning, I love you.

sent at 12:25

you roll your eyes at the text message sent by your boyfriend but can’t help but feel a teensy bit better, but not enough to fall asleep. a glass of warm milk and those melatonin chocolates bertholdt bought for you will do. you find your roommate pieck awake at almost 3 in the morning making herself a cup of tea in her jaw titan mug.

“he did it again.” you tell her as you get out the carton of milk and pour it into a glass.

“again!?” pieck suddenly drops her spoon into her cup of tea.

“shhhhh!” annie is in her room doing the right thing you’re supposed to do at 3 in the morning, sleep. annie is also possibly the lightest sleeper you’ve ever come across and even pieck’s soft voice can wake her up.

“did you tell him how you feel?” pieck asked more quietly this time as she blew at her hot tea.

“yeah.” you sighed, waiting for the microwave to be done warming up your glass of milk.

“and?”

“and…he told me that he wasn’t embarrassed of me and he was just shy.” you take your too hot glass of milk out of the microwave and ended up yelling, possibly waking up annie and praying you didn’t.

“shhhh!” pieck pulls her finger to her lips.

you and pieck stay quiet to listen out for annie’s footsteps, and luckily for you two, you heard none.

“well that’s good right? he’s not embarrassed of you!” pieck says, a little more quiet this time, just in case.

“yeah but, your pig of a boyfriend, who’s headlights are way too bright, came to drop off…something reiner forgot and he let go of me like i was burning hot.” you drink all your milk in one go and let the chocolate dissolve in your mouth.

“but you are burning hot.”

“pieck,” you smile at her playful flirting while staying stern to let her know now is not the time to flirt

“why the hell are both of you still awake?” annie opens the door to her room glaring at both of her roommates.

“what the fuck annie!?” you yelped in your normal voice not having to whisper anymore.

annie makes her way to the fridge and grabs a water bottle, gulping it down like she’s been stranded in the Sahara desert for eternity.

“you two suck at whispering.” annie states throwing away the now empty water bottle.

“what could you two be talking about this fine night?” annie sarcastically asks.

“your bestie is a scaredy-cat and can’t hold his girlfriend in front of others.” pieck jokes.

“pieck!”

“bertholdt?”

“who else?” you confirm

“you can’t make him do anything that makes him uncomfortable, bertholdt’s always been like that.” annie defends her best friend as if you were talking bad about him in the first place.

“im not.”

“well it sounds like you are.” annie’s a good friend, you note.

“i never took a dig at bertholdt as a person, you know how I feel about him annie, i just…feel like he’s embarrassed of me.” you look away from her, a little embarrassed yourself.

annie scoffs, sitting down at the kitchen table “he is not embarrassed of you stupid.”

you look at annie a bit relieved.

“he’s just meek, okay? trust me, it gets to me sometimes too. bertholdt always seemed like he would be meek forever..”

“that’s not a bad thing.” you retort

“can you let me finish first?” annie continues “but, and I know you know this, he’s destined to be more than that.”

“he is already more than that.”

“i already know that.” annie says

there’s a bit of an awkward silence and pieck has awkwardly been stirring her tea the whole time.

annie sighs, “he seems to be a lot more confident ever since you’ve been with him and….” annie hates that she’s admitting this, god she prays you and pieck learn to whisper so she won’t ever have to say something like this again to anyone.

“I like that he’s happy with you.”

your eyes brighten up with joy.

“really?” you smile brightly.

“yes really.” annie sighs once again.

“thanks annie.” you give her a hug and she awkwardly pats your back. you make your way back to your bedroom, with a lingering smile on your face. you text bertholdt goodnight and you know he’s gonna worry over the time you sent your text (3:15 in the morning) but at least now your intrusive thoughts have stopped.

annie doesn’t see you as a friend like pieck or the rest of her friends do. you’re just her roommate. but ever since bertholdt has been dating you for the past 9 months, he does things like hum while doing basic tasks, developed an actual sense of fashion, listens to actual good music and her favorite? tells her and reiner that he loves them every night in their groupchat.

“annie?” pieck says quietly, her tea gone cold.

“yes pieck?” annie sighs, once again.

“do you like bertholdt, in the way Y/N likes bertholdt?” pieck is also a good friend.

annie turns to pieck a bit dumbfounded “pieck, I am literally a lesbian, god.”

“oh thank god.” pieck lets out a breath of relief.

annie goes back into her room, her head now hurting.

you have no idea how football works.

you chant offense when it’s defense, defense when it’s offense, don’t even know what it means to be flagged. yet here you are, giving all your undivided attention to the very homoerotic game that is football, trying to ignore your intrusive thoughts about your boyfriend. all you really know is reiner’s jersey number.

the score is currently 14 - 7, halftime is in three minutes, and under these late night stars, the crowd is starting to get rowdy. eren jaeger is sat three seats beside you yelling at jean kierstein about how much of a pussy the opposing team is. jean kierstein’s face is tomato red as he tries his hardest not to punch eren in the face. armin is right in the middle of it wishing he never came. mikasa knows that these losers wouldn’t even survive in a football game but she can. your roommate pieck just wants to support her boyfriend, and bertholdt and your other roommate annie are just supporting their best friend.

you don’t understand the hype for college football games. the aftermath was always so depressing. men fighting over two groups of other men cuddling each other, underage college students getting alcohol poisoning, people you’ve seen post environmental activism infographics on their instagram stories littering like it’s nothing.

you’ve seen the worst minds of your generation at a college football game.

bertholdt knows you have no idea what’s going on. he’s talking to annie about the game, while also trying to subtly explain to you how it works and annie has no idea why bertholdt is explaining the game to her. If bertholdt keeps this up, annie will probably have to beat his ass.

“the titans just got flagged? wow I wonder what they got penalized for.”

“yeah our defense, who stop the other team from scoring, have been doing really well this season!”

“our offense, who have the ball currently, have been kinda sloppy this quarter, don’t you think?”

Bertholdt is lucky halftime is about to start.

“I’m gonna go get something to eat.” annie states, annoyed by bertholdt.

“get me a korean corn dog please!” you yell after her. she flips you off as she walks away, which means yes, you will get your korean corn dog.

that silence between you and bertholdt appears from last night again, the “please don’t be mad” kind, and you don’t like it. you can feel bertholdt’s doe eyes on you and you know he’s worried about you. he let you go home feeling like an embarrassment to him and he has so much to make up for.

you two don’t really get into the typical fights, sure some misunderstandings, but nothing like this before. you’re overreacting, you know you are. but you can’t help but feel so insecure.

“you should stop explaining how football works to Annie before she beats you up.” you tell your oaf of a boyfriend in a way to let him know him that you don’t want it to be like this any longer.

“if she beat me up, would it make you happy?” bertholdt jokingly asked, a little relieved.

“very.” you gave bertholdt a toothy grin. you give him the most brisk kiss on the cheek, you don’t even think your lips touched him.

“thank you.” you tell him because you know the only reason why he even is explaining football to annie, who probably understands it way more than you and bertholdt, is because he thinks you need space from the passive aggressive predicament you got into last night. (which is far from what you need)

you’re eyes are guided back to the big jumbotron in the center of the field, watching the two dogs who represent the two teams race against each other. bertholdt keeps his eyes on you and observes the way your face lights up when you see the brown labrador dressed as an armored titan race against a black great dane dressed as the colossal.

“bertholdt that black dog resembles you so much!” you tell him in the nicest way possible as you point at the screen. ymir bursts into the most disrespectful laughter possible, her and her girlfriend historia sitting above you and bertholdt.

“ymir stop being mean!” historia scolds.

bertholdt doesn’t care though, he does look like a dog to a certain extent, and he doesn’t care - as long as he can see you smile. he disregards ymir’s snorts, he ignores eren and jean’s arguing, he hasn’t noticed that annie’s been gone for longer than usual, he forgets what breed the dogs were and which one won, the cheering in the stadium has suddenly stopped - all he knows at this moment is you. here you are, his girl, the biggest smile on your face accentuating your cheekbones with your eyes crinkling in the corner. he swears you have the prettiest smile. it makes his brain go fuzzy, makes him forget everything around him -

your intrusive thoughts have gotten the very best of you, all of last night and up to today. there’s that voice in your head who keeps on telling you that you’re not worthy of being shown off, that being with someone like you is an embarrassment - how dare anyone love you? but right now - bertholdt feels so honored in this current moment sitting this close to you and having the privilege to see you smile. he looks like an idiot probably as he admires you from his seat that his tall body can barely fit in. but he doesn’t care - all his inhibitions have left and you’ve replaced them.

reiner can’t wait until this game is over with. he’s sat on the metal moist bench with his helmet off squeezing his water bottle into his mouth as his bandages are being renewed below him by the teams nurse. the black game paint he painted across his face has became grey and smudged and his hair is soaked from how much he’s been sweating. there’s about three minutes of halftime left and he’s spending those three minutes watching the Jumbotron across him.

“pucker your lips and get ready for the kiss cam titans!” came a booming voice from the intercom.

the first couple weren’t even a couple and the girl ended up moving away when the guy motioned a kiss towards her.

the second couple gave each other a meek kiss and the crowd boo’d at their lousy excuse of a kiss.

the third couple was a girl in the middle of eating a korean corn dog and the giraffe of a man totally entranced by her cheese pull.

reiner’s eyes widen as he sets his eye on the dork of a couple who were cuddling on his couch last night.

bertholdt is looking at you like you’re the only person in this whole stupidly funded football stadium. you have a bit of mustard on the corner of your lips and your inhaling the cool night air to cool down the burning piece of fried cheese in your mouth. you look to bertholdt and stick your tongue out and point at it with sad eyes.

“I burnt my tongue,” you said with your tongue still sticking out.

“you’re on kiss cam you idiots!” ymir smiled at the both of you and playfully pushed bertholdt’s towards you.

bertholdt doesn’t even know he’s on kiss cam. he barely felt ymir push him over to you. he sees you look over to the jumbotron and grow embarrassed as you use your hand to cover your face. out of nowhere, you’re hit with the massive weight that is the whole crowd’s judgement. somehow, you’re the one filled with inhibitions and bertholdt isn’t.

“bertholdt…” you whisper to him, “we’re on kiss cam!” you say this like it’s the worse thing in the world.

all bertholdt hears is kiss and that’s what he does - in front of thousands of people, all of paradis’ college towns watching on their TVs, in front of eren jaeger and jean kierschstein who’ve stopped arguing due to how surprised they are, in front of armin arlert who’s just glad they’ve stopped arguing, in front of mikasa ackerman who has never felt so much second hand embarrassment in her life just from you eating your corn dog, in front of pieck finger who’s smiling so big because you were just telling her last night how you felt bertholdt was embarrassed of you, in front of annie leonhardt who can’t help but roll her eyes at you two, in front of ymir who’s cheering bertholdt on, and in front of reiner braun, who’s annoying the nurse who’s bandaging his calves from his constant movement as he stands up and cheers for his best friend since middle school.

bertholdt is carefully cradling your face in both of his hands, like you’re his own personal prayer, his own personal heaven, his own angel; they’re large and warm up your cool face and his fingers reach to your scalp. you didn’t expect this from him, you even thought he would just walk away pretending to not even know who you are (and if he did that, you would give him something to be embarrassed about). but here he is, his lips on your lips, kissing you like this is what mouths are for. finding warmth in his mouth, you relax into his lips and hold his hands closer to your face.

neither you or bertholdt can hear the crowd cheering you guys on as bertholdt’s lips put you into some sort of trance just like how your smile induced his. it is every kiss bertholdt owes you every time he pulled away in front of others. it is the song baby by donnie and joe emerson that is the first track on the CD bertholdt gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. it is the last track - ‘baby’ by ariel pink. it is bertholdt’s hands cradling your face up to reach his lips and your hands on his, your mouth becoming his mouth, it is you who breaks into shards and it will be him who will put you back together.

once you both pull away due to the ear-paining air horn signifying that halftime is over, the kiss cam screening had already been over with. bertholdt’s olive skin heats up, his lips covered in your gloss and your lips a bit swollen.

you look up at to him with bright but bashful eyes, and you smile.

and he swears you have the prettiest smile.

319 notes · View notes

youcouldmakealife · 4 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (142-144)

Holden Chase, head trauma, and unintended consequences.

If you're reading along, the series page is here.

142. Ellipsis

You know, seems kind of sadistic to give this title to a chapter that ends the way it did. Not an apology, just an acknowledgment.

He went to the Hockey Hall of Fame in his rookie year, refused to touch the Cup, just in case. Dumb superstition, but more than that, if he touches it, he wants it to be because he earned it, not because he paid twenty bucks at the entrance. He went to the Empire State Building with some of the Oilers once, and Julius wore a supremely bored expression all day, all ‘New York is beneath me’.

Even Jared has gone to the Empire State Building more times than David Chapman, resident of New York for years, confirmed.

Minnesota’s fucking cold, and he’s saying this as an Albertan.

Went to Minnesota on TOTI research trip (my brother worked for a Minnesota based company at the time and he got a tag-a-long to a work thing that he in no way, shape, or form requested). Anyway, can confirm: was fucking cold.

Jared gets started on his packing as well. Just the socks and underwear, since he’s sure Bryce has ideas about what he’s going to wear, and will be all appalled that Jared packed like, a red sweater when obviously it’s green sweater season, Jared, how did you not realise that it was green sweater season, don’t you pay attention at all to the sweater seasons?

Bryce is grey sweatered and borderline hyperactive in his cheerfulness on the flight out.

Foolish Jared, it’s clearly grey sweater season.

Jared imagines money’s been bet, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Or like, stress him out. Bryce happily co-existing with their teammates is worth him losing some money at cards once in awhile. Or like, often. He’s really not very good, from what Jared’s gathered, so obviously everyone is happy to have him join in. But Bryce doesn’t mind, so Jared doesn’t mind. Much. They play for stakes the call-ups and ELC guys can afford, so it’s not exactly going to bankrupt them, no matter how many games Bryce loses.

Bryce is enthusiastic and terrible, which makes him the ideal person to play cards against, even before you get into the fact he makes more than most of his teammates make less money than he does and therefore the stakes seem low to him. That’s a Stevie rule — nobody’s betting more than the player paid the least on the team can stomach. This is a way to pass time on the plane, not a gambling ring.

Ashley is pregnant. Like, Jared knew this, obviously he knew this, they were told right before they left — weeks after Raf and Grace found out, and he is not upset about this — but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing. She’s not like, about to give birth or anything, but they definitely would have noticed if they hadn’t been told in advance. Probably. Maybe.

Bryce would have noticed, at least.

Jared a) is obviously extremely upset about this and b) would absolutely not have noticed, but he’s right that Bryce would have.

Jared mortifies himself in front of David Chapman, which is great. Totally fine. Absolutely not something that will haunt him for the rest of his life, and may actually lead to a premature death due to intense shame.

“You’re exaggerating,” Raf says over breakfast the next morning. “He didn’t even notice.”

Two things can be true. Jared DID mortify himself in front of David. And David did not notice.

“No offence?” Raf says. “But David’s kind of — not oblivious, exactly? Well, kind of. Trust me, he didn’t notice. I can almost guarantee he’s already forgotten your name, let alone anything you said to him.”

Accurate summary except where Raf said ‘not oblivious, exactly’, because he IS oblivious, exactly. At least in this particular matter.

“I mean you were flirting with another dude in front of him all night,” Raf says. “So I don’t really blame him.”

So apparently Bryce was not the only one who got the impression that Jared was flirting with David. Great. Terrific. Wonderful.

“I didn’t mean to,” Jared moans. “It wasn’t flirting, it was like — word vomit.”

Jared thinks someone is pretty, Jared loses control of his mouth. Well. Remaining control.

“Maybe don’t call David out of your league when you’re explaining why it wasn’t meaningful flirtation?” Raf says.

“That’s great advice,” Jared says. It truly is. “Except I already did that.”

Raf shrugs. “Would have told you not to flirt with David but—“

Jared thunks his head back on the table.

Raf has endured so much.

He found this one pretty funny though, to be honest. Like, mortifying to witness at the time, but over breakfast the next morning? Hilarious.

Bryce is no longer mad at him by the time they get to Buffalo. Or maybe he is, but not mad enough not to sneak into Jared’s room for a gameday nap, and Jared’s too relieved to remind Bryce about his ironclad ‘no sleeping together on the road, yes that means naps too’ rule. Which is apparently less ironclad and more ‘unless I fucked up and hurt your feelings in which case do whatever you want’.

Annnnd the ironclad rule has been broken.

then Hartford’s a quick, surprisingly easy win, one that’ll probably lead to a dozen Moby-Dick references in game-write ups from beat writers who think they’re clever.

Cue William Dineen pointing out that orcas are dolphins, actually.

There’s also a difference between quietly missing his family a bit and the loud ‘thank fuck we’re almost home’ that’s going on with a lot of his teammates right now, Dmitry the loudest among them. Everybody’s glad to be going home. Nobody needs to say it repeatedly at increasing volume.

“He’s got kids,” Bryce says.

“Okay?” Jared says.

“He’s got kids,” Bryce says, like Jared didn’t hear him the first time.

Dmitry hasn’t seen his children in several weeks. He missed them very very much.

Dmitry says something loudly about missing his kids. Bryce nods earnestly like this isn’t the tenth time he’s heard it. Today.

Very very much.

“They are getting so big and I am missing it all!” Dmitry groans. “All of the moments, Bullet! I have abandoned them!”

Bryce makes wordless soothing noises as Dmitry puts his face in his hands.

Very VERY much.

“Okay, he’s a little dramatic,” Gabe says, and Jared grins.

Also yes this.

Not seeing something coming is the biggest cliché. In general, but specifically in hockey.

I acknowledge, I do not apologise.

He doesn’t see it coming. Puck on his stick, back to the play. He does a shoulder check, and he’s clear, the Bruins defender on him peeling away, presumably for a change, and the puck’s off his tape, pass executed, on its way to Dmitry, and then there’s nothing at all.

So just to be clear: that pass was executed far enough before the hit that Jared was not eligible for contact anymore. It was a late hit. It would have been boarding even if it wasn’t, but it was late as well.

143. Washed Clean

“Okay, that’s okay, you’re fine,” he hears. It’s Gabe, he thinks, but he doesn’t open his eyes again to check. “You’re fine, okay Jared?”

“I’m fine,” Jared mumbles.

“You’re perfectly fine,” Gabe says back.

Gabe holds it together admirably until he gets home because he feels that’s what’s needed of him, but man is he freaking the fuck out right now.

“I want you to stay still for me,” Graham says. Jared assumes he’s saying it to him and not Gabe.

“Don’t move my head,” Jared says.

“Exactly,” Graham says. “Can you move your extremities?”

“You just told me to stay still,” Jared says. “Which one is it.”

The RELIEF Gabe feels at Jared being snippy.

“You’re okay?” he says from a careful distance, like if he breaches it he’ll break.

Bryce is 100% sure that if he gets within five feet of Jared right now he will not be in control of his own actions. He’s thisclose to not caring.

Getting out of there’s a mess. It’s the same as usual, honestly, doesn’t take any longer, or have any more logistical snarls, but whatever remained of Jared’s energy ran out before they even left TD Garden, and his head hurts too much to look at his phone, do anything but keep telling himself the painkillers haven’t kicked in, that he just has to wait, even though it’s well past time they would have started working. He feels like he’s going to cry every time he blinks. He hurts.

I can think of worse places to have a brutal headache than a hockey arena, but not many. Fluorescents, strong smells, so many people coming and going, people calling out, yelling — total nightmare.

Jared is on the verge of tears for a good hour or so, here.

“Back of the plane will be quieter,” Gabe says. “Let me check with Munch.”

Munch apparently gives them the last row without argument, which has Jared wondering just how bad that hit looked, because he’s as much a superstitious creature of habit as anyone Jared’s ever met, and no way would he cede his usual seat without good cause.

Munch is indeed extraordinarily superstitious, but Jared is as white as a sheet, and Munch doesn’t want to be haunted by ghost Jared. Also he has empathy. But mostly it’s the not wanting to be haunted.

He breathes small, shallow breaths, fighting the urge to grab Gabe’s hand and squeeze until someone else knows exactly how bad he feels. That’s unkind. Also his skin hurts, so it’d probably hurt him even more than it’d hurt Gabe.

Unkind may not stop Jared, but self-defeating will.

“How’s your head?” Bryce says, carefully quiet.

“Hurts,” Jared says. “My heart beats too much.”

Bryce looks extremely alarmed.

‘heart beats too much’ sounds like an alarming development without context, yes.

Bryce leans into him, nose nudging his hair.

“You scared the shit out of me, babe,” Bryce murmurs against his temple, barely louder than Jared’s own heart.

“Sorry,” Jared mumbles, and he feels the flutter of Bryce’s lashes when he shuts his eyes, forehead cool against Jared’s skin like maybe Jared’s running a fever.

Jared flinches at the sound of a toilet flushing, louder than it should be, but doesn’t put it together, cause and effect, until Stevie says, “Whoa, wifeys are going to be jealous.”

This is a real fucking soft moment for Stevie to blunder into. Also he’s usually better at this, but, you know: he’s a bit wired right now. Red Bulls. Finally getting to go home after literal weeks. Etc.

He doesn’t sound like his heart’s in it anymore, but Jared appreciates the attempt to keep it chill. Not chill enough, though: Jared can feel Bryce, a line of tight tension beside him, the space he put between them almost a presence in itself. And Jared knew Bryce telling Dmitry didn’t necessarily mean — he knew that. He shouldn’t be surprised.

He’s quietly so disappointed here. Easy to miss, since Bryce comes out in the same scene, but.

“Nothing to be jealous of,” Bryce says, and Jared’s half-expecting a ‘no homo’ moment, is just — tired — except Bryce says, “Considering we’re married to each other, so.”

So disappointed, and then Bryce keeps talking.

“Sorry,” Stevie whispers. “But — really?”

“Really,” Gabe says. He’s a few rows ahead, so if he overheard their conversation he’s not the only one. Jared doesn’t have the brain power to think about that right now. “Give them some space, Stevedore.”

Stevedore (dockworker) is such a good fucking nickname for a marine themed team. Only team it’d be better for is the Whalers.

Also such a Gabe nickname. Deep cuts from Gabriel Markson. Tate Williams would appreciate him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jared says.

“Yes I did,” Bryce says, and finds Jared’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

He really did. Standing at a distance from Jared when he was in pain, even though nothing was technically stopping Bryce from reaching out, getting updates from Gabe even though he was right there — once he sat down next to Jared he wasn’t getting up again. And once he was close enough to touch Jared nobody was hiding shit.

Jared is pretty sure that’s impossible, but he manages eventually, and not just a cat nap, because he wakes up to the change of air pressure, fingers still laced loosely with Bryce’s, who’s on his phone, typing awkwardly with his left hand.

Every time Bryce makes a decision he pretty much ensures it’s irrevocable. Okay: I’m out. Not letting go of my husband’s hand for the next few hours, anyone using the back bathroom can mind their own fucking business.

“I let everyone know you weren’t doing screentime,” Bryce says. “Your mom says to call them when you feel up to it. Her and your dad are super freaked out. And my mom. She sent me like, fifty texts while you were sleeping. Sorry, I’m talking too much. I was really — I’m talking too much. I’m sorry.”

He knows Jared has a headache so he’ll be quiet now, don’t worry.

(He was so fucking scared.)

“Yeah,” Bryce says, letting go of his hand to dig up a travel bottle. Jared’s fingers feel cold. He wonders if Bryce let go once when he was sleeping, or if he spent the entire trip with their fingers laced, texting Jared’s parents, Elaine, the group chat, awkwardly one-handed the whole time.

Second one.

Julius’ texts go from mildly concerned, to irritated Jared’s not answering, to moderately concerned, to angry Jared’s not answering, and then land on severely concerned. Jared wonders if they should wait to see if he hits infuriated that Jared’s not answering, or if he’s just going to stay in severely concerned until he gets a text back.

“Send him a thumbs up emoji and nothing else,” Jared says. “I wanna see how he responds.”

“I’m not doing that,” Bryce says, sounding utterly horrified, and Jared smiles.

Possibly the meanest thing Jared ever does to Julius, and he stole his blanket and introduced him to his evil sister. (Or, it would have been if Bryce had obliged. Which he was absolutely not going to do)

Jared doesn’t know if that’s something management already told them, but he doesn’t think so, because they’ve treated Jared the same since he got to Vancouver. He likes his coaches. Really hopes that isn’t about to change, go sour the way Jared’s relationship with Oilers management did.

Jared doesn’t mention coach reaction at length, focused more on team, but coaching staff continue to treat him exactly the same, minus a few awkward shoulder punches.

“I’m gonna drive you guys home,” Gabe says.

Bryce frowns. “I can—“

“No offence?” Gabe says. “You do not look good to drive right now, Bryce.”

Bryce 100% looks worse than Jared at this point.

They should buy him like, a fruit basket or something. Jared doesn’t really know what’s appropriate for ‘hey thanks for looking out for me after I got steamrolled and probably handling the guys so they didn’t come swarming us with questions’. Elaine will probably know. She’s good at those sort of things.

Elaine suggests a gift basket featuring chocolate.

“I don’t even know,” Bryce says. “Think there was a 7 on his jersey? It was a board battle, I don’t think it was on purpose.”

James, and no, it was not on purpose.

“You get him?” Jared asks, letting his eyes drift shut.

“Dima did,” Bryce says. “He said if I did I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

100% for the best, Bryce was not in his right mind; it wouldn’t have been a hockey fight, it would have been assault.

“Okay,” Jared says. “You don’t — you can touch me, you know. I’m not going to break.”

“Okay,” Bryce murmurs, fingers still slowly carding through Jared’s hair, and Jared can feel Bryce’s lips brush his forehead, so light that he knows Bryce doesn’t believe him.

Oh my darlings.

144. Unvarnished

“Have you just been sitting in the car the whole time?” Jared asks. He texted Bryce to meet at the car, but apparently he didn’t need to bother, since Bryce is exactly where Jared left him. He could have just arrived, but Jared has suspicions.

Bryce looks shifty. “I didn’t want to go far in case you needed me,” he says.

Jared is unsure what situation would involve Bryce being needed — certainly not a medical emergency, since Jared was being evaluated by medical professionals — but he holds his tongue for once, which is good, because Bryce is a very, very fragile man at the moment.

He doesn’t notice at first, on the phone with his mom, who sounds weirdly un-mom like, all soft,

The people who love him all had a really bad day yesterday. Jared accepts this in the case of Bryce, you’d think he’d acknowledge his own mom might be shaken.

Bryce looks simultaneously sheepish, apologetic, and completely unrepentant all at once. Jared’s kind of impressed. It takes skill to look like you’re very, very sorry, but also get fucking used to it.

‘I’m sorry and I will not stop’

Bryce clears the Gatorade and cheese and crackers to make room for himself. Jared would ask what he’s supposed to do if he wants one of those, but that’d probably get Bryce springing up and apologising for daring to take the space of any food or beverage that Jared may need in the future. He probably shouldn’t tease Bryce — he doesn’t look like sarcasm’s going to go over well at the moment. Jared’s not the only fragile one right now. Hell, Jared may be the less fragile one right now.

Jared has no idea.

Jared holds an arm out, and sighs when Bryce looks at it almost suspiciously.

“I’m lonely,” Jared says. It comes out over-the-top, but whatever, it gets Bryce tucking himself against Jared, albeit very carefully.

Bryce knows he’s being managed, but also, Jared said he was lonely.

after Jared hands him his phone, he reads Jared one from Stephen, saying he’s glad he’s doing okay and to let him or Gabe know if they need anything, one from Gabe saying basically the same thing, and one from Dima that’s a bunch of emojis Jared can’t really make sense of: whale, thumbs up, men holding hands, heart, prayer hands — or pleading, Jared’s never sure which it’s supposed to be — hockey stick, net.

Dima: 🐳👍👬❤️️🙏

Jared: 👍

“I guess we’ll see,” is all he says. If they disappoint Bryce he’ll — he doesn’t even know what he’ll do. They better not.

Man’s already offered to set the Saddledome on fire for Bryce, you think he’ll leave Rogers Arena intact just because they play in it?

“You see my fight?” Dmitry asks. “Kicked his ass for you.”

“Bryce isn’t letting me do screens,” Jared says.

Dmitry wheels on Bryce. “He needs to see my fight!”

Dmitry thinks Bryce’s priorities suck.

“Bryce is having a very intense conversation with Grayson about whether plus-minus should be abolished as a performance metric,” Gabe says. “So he’s fine.”

Bryce is pro abolishment. Because there are better ways to track a player’s defensive stats and what’s meant to be an individual performance metric is fundamentally a team one, and that’s bullshit. Grayson doesn’t even care that much, but now he’s stuck defending it to Bryce and his wildly gesticulating hands.

“Okay this is not me being homophobic, first off,” someone says in the hall outside the bathroom. “Seriously, I’m not that guy. Totally happy for them, love is love or whatever.”

Jared freezes, because starting a statement with a homophobia disclaimer is pretty much a guarantee something extremely homophobic is about to follow. He sees Gabe doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

“But like, Bullet’s married to Math?” the guy says. “Bullet’s like, friendly happy go lucky dude and Math’s like — Math’s kind of mean.”

This is objectively the funniest conversation Jared could ever overhear. And after his death glares/60, this season, it is so very deserved.

“Stephen’s mean,” Jared hisses at him. “And old! Mean and old. That’s who you picked. A mean, old person.”

Hmm, good work proving you’re not mean, Jared. (Stephen is two days older than Gabe.)

Everyone’s over-the-top friendly, asking him how his head is, telling him they’re glad he’s feeling better, saying congrats for their marriage like it just happened, while Jared mumbles ‘thanks’ until it stops sounding like a word to him.

People are showing care and concern for Jared and he does not like it.

Jared waits by the car after a very weird practice. Bryce is back on the plus-minus subject with Grayson, and he looked so happy that Jared didn’t want to drag him away from it.

‘Please’, says Grayson. ‘I don’t even care anymore., I just want to go home’

“Yes!” Jared says. “They keep asking me how my head is and telling me how glad they are I’m feeling better. Like, everyone keeps coming up to me and saying that like they’ve got a script or something.”

Those fuckers.

“They’re just acting like it’s all like—“ Jared says.

“Like it’s all what?” Gabe asks.

“Fine,” Jared says. “They’re acting like it’s all fine and normal.”

And here’s the rub. Nobody’s treating him any differently, and for all he said they wouldn’t, he didn’t actually expect that.

“You know I’m out to the team, right?” Gabe says. “And have been for awhile? You guys aren’t exactly the first queer teammates they’ve shared a room with. The guys who need time to adjust have already had that time.”

“Yeah but it’s like,” Jared says. “I don’t know. Different this time.”

I mean, it is different, in that it’s two teammates and also Bryce is a veritable super star, but also Jared: stop talking.

“I don’t know,” Jared says, frustrated by the pinched look Gabe’s giving him. “A bigger deal? It’s like. I don’t know. You wouldn’t get it.”

Baby gay exceptionalism.

“Isn’t it so nice to have lunch with these trailblazers, Gabe?” Stephen asks. “Laying the groundwork for future generations. I hope we can be like them someday. No, that’s asking for too much. I only hope that we can understand them one day, even just a little.”

Stephen came out around the age Jared is now. That was years and years ago, because, as Jared mentioned, he is mean and old.

“I’m not hopeless,” Gabe says. “Can’t be hopeless when I have you.”

“Ew,” Stephen says flatly. “You know how I feel about schmaltz, Gabriel.”

“I’m a little hopeless sometimes,” Gabe sighs.

Still madly, hopelessly in love.

“It’s absolutely adorable that you think there is any scenario in which I’d let this go,” Stephen says, tossing his hair.

“Steve,” Gabe says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stephen says. “‘If you keep tossing your hair it’ll lose its dramatic effect’, I know.”

One of my favourite lines in the entire universe. It was a privilege and also a delight to revisit Stephen Petersen when he isn’t deep in fight-or-flight.

He swears Gabe’s eyes twinkle. He thought that was just a thing from books.

“You’re not as nice as you pretend to be,” Jared says, stomping away.

Stephen Petersen is his soulmate, what did you expect.

“Mathematics!” Dmitry says, arms out.

“Quit hugging me it’s been forever since I got hurt!” Jared says, veering around him, and stomps the rest of the way to his stall.

It has been two days.

“What?” Jared snaps, and gets a dozen ��don’t look at me’ raised hands. “What?”

“He is kind of mean, though,” Langley says, then, “You’re just proving my point, Math!” when Jared throws a glove at him.

This room is a little terrified of him. It’s great.

#liveblogging the end

47 notes · View notes

nonsensical-pixels · 1 year

Text

THE LINDASIMS2 RESEARCH AND EXPERIMENTATION: PART ONE

No idea how to really make one of these posts. Most Sundays I'd wake up and post my own CC. But not this Sunday.

DISCLAIMER: This is not really a callout post. This is a warning to anyone who intends to download Lindasim's stuff. And a genuine one. I have nothing personal against Linda, this is only what I've found from my own deep dive into Linda's files. I have no proof that what I've found is stuff that Linda herself did, but the stuff does exist. And it's terrible.

WARNING: Some of these images contain racial slurs that may make you uncomfortable.

You can find the nails file I use for my 'research' post here. It's part of the reuploaded March 2021 set and from what I can see that entire set is a giant mess.

Credits go to @dystopianam and aga on @acottonsock's server for providing the links to the files I needed to inspect.

Continue to read if you really want to know what you download when you download Linda's files.

OPENING THE FILE

Obviously, step 1 to any research regarding Sims 2 CC is... opening the file. And at first glance, this may seem completely normal to a CC newbie. It's from 'Base cc #333', 'LS_ACC_TF_AF_nail_M1_4swatches', 'LS_ACC_AF_nail_1v290321_mesh'.

I mean, it looks like any normal Sims 2 file, right? It's a mesh!

Until you open one of DeeDee's own accessory files.

Yeah... notice how there's a TON of stuff that isn't present in the other two?

Now, at first, I gave this the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, I thought, this was just another sign of my lack of knowledge regarding Sims 2 CC. It's been awhile since I've done my own accessories. But let's move on to the next part of my research...

THE 3DID REFERENCING FILES

There are 57 3DID Referencing Files in this nails mesh files. And maybe I'm ignorant, but I'm pretty sure sims don't have 57 fingers.

I didn't have time to actually see where they're pointing to... but... why the heck are they in a mesh file?

THE AGE DATA

This was what originally stood out to me the most. Why the heck is there AGE DATA in a nail accessory?

THE BHAVS

In @dystopianam's post, they mentioned the game reading some of Linda's files as mods. Well, I found the reason why.

There are... BHAVs? In a mesh file? For those who don't know, BHAVs literally alter the game's code or add new code. From what I can guess these BHAVs probably have something to do with the sim embedded in this file?

THE CATALOG DESCRIPTION

This was the icky part. And why I was hesitant to make this post.

Yep, turns out that whoever made this file is a big fat racist. Also fatphobic. Also probably aware that catalog descriptions shouldn't be in accessory files. Most of the ones I've seen were for objects or... sims. But this one isn't.

THE GMDC AND ASSOCIATED MESH ELEMENTS

Okay, through all of this, I was under the impression that the GMDC, GMND, CRES, and SHPE would be the most boring elements to inspect. I... was wrong.

Yep, the sim has a face. No clue what their name is but they are more present in this file than I expected.

THE JPG IMAGES

It's the hero you've all been waiting for... LIGHTNING MCQUEEN himself!!

Yep, he's here too! He's real! And he doesn't just accompany hairs, I can tell you that much, because these are nails!

Apparently these were based on Bruno's files? (From MTS), since there's a Bruno JPG slipped in there.

THE MATERIAL DEFINITIONS

There are 38 random material definitions. IDK why they're here. They're just... vibing.

THE OBJD (OBJECT DATA)

I was baffled to see this here. Why's there an object in here, I wondered. Until I realised the game sees this as a person. So, yep. That's the moment I realised there's an actual sim in here.

There's a bit more stuff in this file (most notably the Texture Overlay XML) that wouldn't fit in this post because of the 10 images limit... but fun fact, our secret sim has grey eyes! Wow!

THE CONCLUSION

Phew, that was a rollercoaster!

I didn't dare actually loading the game with these files (mostly out of fear that secret sim will haunt my dreams forever...) but as you can see in this post, the reuploaded files from Linda are completely fucked. No way around it. These aren't nail files, they're probably nail files merged with a whole-ass sim.

I'm not too knowledgeable on the subject of sims or BHAVs, but this is what Part 1 of my research has yielded and it's made me pretty fucking terrified. How long have people been downloading this 'leaked' stuff only for it to corrupt their game? It makes me wonder how many neighborhoods were lost to 'corruption' that was actually reuploaded Lindasims2 files...

For now, if you have thought about sailing the seven seas to get Linda's Sims 2 CC, I would recommend reevaluating that idea. Unless you want your game to be destroyed like @dystiopianam's and several others.

aga was kind enough to link me to some pre-2020 files of Linda's and they seem OK (so far...) but I would also not recommend supporting Linda on Patreon until we have proof that these files weren't corrupted by her, but by whoever reuploaded them to SimFileShare.

Also, it's not just the mesh file that's corrupted, in case you thought that. Nope, the recolor files have also been given the hidden sim treatment.

I can't really get my thoughts straight right now and really wanted to make this post before I forgot or the hidden sims came to murder me in bed, but for now, cheerio. I'll be back with more 'what the heck is in these files' ASAP!

#lindasims2 #s2cc #sims 2 cc #ts2 cc #important info #the lindasims research and experimentation #how do u tag these sorts of posts #sims 2 research #sims 2 alert

283 notes · View notes

tg-headcanons · 1 month

Note

I was wondering, how are Michie and Seina handling Seidou's new... quirks, lets say. Do they use less scented items in the house? How do they feel about his kagune? Does he scent them? Do they know he's dating Amon and Akira and if so, how do they feel about it? Learning that your family member is suddenly a ghoul must come with lots of questions and concerns

That poor fuck and his poor family❤️

After getting Seidou back in his new form, Michie and Seina have a steep learning curve. They don’t want to lose him, not after already thinking he was dead, but getting good information on how ghouls work is hard, so they’re mostly relying on Seidou to tell them

Unfortunately, Seidou is a prideful little dipshit who will not be up front about anything he has decided is weak, embarrassing, or weird, so it took awhile for them to get anything useful out of him. For awhile he was just snappy and jumpy and stressed a lot until they got him to admit that the air freshener is overwhelming and it’s stressing him out. When his mom responded without belittling it and just removed it from the wall, he accepted that he’ll need to be honest about his weird shit. He’s been trying to bring things up in a very casual way to not freak them out, but it’s hard to nonchalantly slip in “haha yeah also don’t come in my room if I’m asleep because sometimes my kagune come out on their own and they’ll try to tangle your legs”

Michie is definitely very afraid of him being found out, she’s lost him once and she won’t do it again, so she’s incredibly thorough about keeping curtains closed and avoiding the CCG. She knows about Akira and Amon (I mean once your mom is cool with you being a cannibalistic monster you may as well tell her about your bisexual situationship) but generally does not want them at her house. She’s sure they’re nice people, and they’ve been good to seidou, but she can’t kick the fear that if they come over, other doves will notice and figure it out

Seina is taking it in a weirder way. Her brother apparently came back from the dead as a ghoul and once getting past that shock and the horror of what made him that way, she started asking a lot of questions. It’s kind of invasive and uncomfortable but it balances out Michie’s careful doting and tiptoeing around difficult questions. For every intentionally avoided comment from his mother about his red eye, there’s an equal and opposite interaction from his sister where she asks him if he can regenerate infinite teeth

They have a big Dont Ask Don’t Tell policy about his diet. They all know what he eats, but they don’t talk about it. Anything else though? That’s fair game, especially when it’s obvious. And once the wounds weren’t so fresh and they could joke about it, the jokes came in droves. Seina teases him for purring when he plays with the dog, if he leaves his kagune out Michie will pile any of his used cups on them or dump his clean laundry on them to make him go take care of that. The family teasing has mutated to incorporate his weird ghoul shit

Seidou is not innocent. He is an older brother and come hell or high water it is his job to be annoying. Seina has had to get very good at avoiding being tripped because he loves tripping her with his kagune. He is swiping at her legs constantly. He is picking her up with them and putting her in Air Jail. He is stealing her phone out of her hand and putting it on top of the fridge with them. He is a menace but they’re closer now than they were when he was in the CCG

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanon #seidou takizawa #michie takizawa #seina Takizawa

20 notes · View notes

tears-of-taelia · 3 months

Text

re: melia & emma

I've been thinking about this for awhile now. The way that the newest version of the Blacksteeple Castle chapter has presented Emma is interesting. There will be spoilers ahead, so don't read if you're still working your way through version 13.5!

My ramblings begin below. Here are some official pics (by the amazing Zumi) for reference.

As we know, during the events of Blacksteeple Castle, Melia wore a disguise to hide her true identity. This disguise is removed when Madame X slashes it with her sword. There is a small animation that follows, where a dark magical aura envelopes “Emma” before she is revealed to be Melia.

After the subsequent chaos, the disguise is not brought up again. However, the character of Emma is revealed to still reside in Melia’s cognition, apparently unbeknownst to Melia, as she says, “I thought I left you behind at Blacksteeple”. How odd.

Then, (a long time) later, while exploring the 3rd Layer, Melia stumbles across a deathbed journal entry written by a Garufa Inc. volunteer named Emma. It reads as follows.

My name is Emma. I undertook the Archetype's power today, and it failed miserably. I was unable to manifest its power and was mortally wounded during a test. I thought I actually had potential... but I guess not. The doctors say I don't have long left. It's cruel, isn't it? Life is just so cruel. But this is the path me and all the other volunteers chose. Humanity has nothing left but us. ...Is it all worth it in the end, though? What do we want to survive for? ...Anyway. I'm losing energy fast. Garufa Incorporated is our last hope. Please, save us.

Melia expresses to Nim that she finds it odd that this person and her Blacksteeple cover share a name. Nim passes this off as a coincidence, and understandably so. Emma isn’t exactly a rare name (though perhaps things are different in the world of rejuvenation?). The coincidence still seems to bother Melia for some reason.

Now, there are a LOT of theories about Melia out there. Despite hours and hours of gameplay, her true identity has yet to be revealed.

People have theorized for years that she is Maria, and the game seems to heavily imply that that is the case. If Anathea had four children, Erin, Maria, Alice, and Allen, and Erin, Melia, Alice, and Allen know that they share a mother, Anathea, then it would logically follow that Melia is Maria. In addition, Melia and Maria physically resemble each other, Melia is unsure of her origins prior to meeting Jenner, and Maria has not otherwise made an appearance in the current timeline (besides the whole Marianette ordeal in Gearen Sewers). So, it’s not exactly a dramatic leap.

It is eventually even addressed by the characters themselves. When Erin directly asks for her opinion on this matter, Melia balks, and seemingly contradicts herself.

MELIA: Hahah... I guess I've known for a long time that I was Maria. Ever since our interaction with Angie, that name has been going through my head in my dreams. But I have to disagree, Erin. I am not Maria. ERIN: But out of the process of elimination, you must be. MELIA: Sorry, but it's true. That's what my mind is telling me, desperately. I am not Maria. I am not Maria. That's what echoes in my head.

If Melia is and is not Maria, then… how…? In what way? Who is she? Why would she share a connection with Erin? Why is she the only one with Genesis Syndrome? And what does Emma have to do with all of this? I don’t really have an answer. But there is something I want to muse on.

Let’s circle back to Melia’s “disguise”, if we can even call it that. Her cover as Emma made her look like an entirely different person, unrecognizable to the Player character. She has a different outfit, hair color, and eye color. If we are to believe that this is an ordinary disguise, we would need to believe that, with one slash, Madame X was able to tear through a wig, two color contacts, and an entire outfit, including thigh high boots. We would need to believe that Melia conveniently decided to wear a different outfit underneath this disguise, and that Madame X was able to slash off her exterior outfit without marring the one underneath. We would also need to believe that the special, dark, magical animation the occurs at this moment was purely aesthetic and meaningless.

So, yeah, I don’t really believe it this disguise is your regular, run-of-the-mill costume.

We learn that Melia was sent to Blacksteeple through the powers of Spacea and Tiempa. She was on a mission as a Storm Chaser, to save the Player character and gather information. As we know (all too well) from V13.5, Spacea and Tiempa are powerful. Specifically, they have powers over space and time akin to Palkia and Dialga. They use these powers pretty recklessly to manipulate many characters throughout the story. However, every instance of power they exhibit is strictly tied to their dimensions, space and time. Spacea does magic related to space. Tiempa does magic related to time. So, how, then, would they be able to create such a magical disguise for Melia? Through Garufan dress-up magic? Creating an illusion? Maybe. I wouldn’t be shocked. But I think it’s more than that. I think that Spacea and Tiempa used their magic to revive a version of Melia from the past, a different dimension, or a different “layer” (past world?). Perhaps… the third layer. A different appearance. A different life. Emma.

I think of it sort of like what happened with Narcissa during the Dufaux sidequest. But, instead of S+T directly swapping Melia with Emma, they just projected the appearance of Emma onto Melia.

There isn’t much to support or detract from this speculation. What we do know? We know that Melia is and is not Maria. We know that both Melia and Emma struggle to manifest the Archetype's power. We know that Emma resides in Melia’s cognition, like Melanie. We know Melia was deeply bothered by Emma’s journal entry in the Third Layer. We know that the outfit Melia dons when using her powers is very reminiscent of Emma’s.

We also know that Emma is dead.

Or, at least, presumed dead.

Just like Aevis, Aevia, Aria, Axel, Aero, and Alain.

You see where I’m going with this?

We know Emma dies disappointed, having believed she had “potential”, according to her journal entry. Did someone else think she had potential too? Perhaps, her “majesty” herself?

I know I’m not the only one to theorize that Melia is another Interceptor. I mean, it is heavily implied throughout the story. Melia is one of two characters for which we have seen Variya appear. The other, of course, being the player character. Melia is able to enter Zeight. In fact, she enters her own Zeight a couple of points during the game. She is shown with the triangular core motif a couple of times as well. She has led a lot of the research about the Interceptor phenomenon, in the Blakeory Athenaeum, for example.

How this all ties in with Maria, though? I don’t know. In the case of the Player character, we know that A-team didn’t want to live, and agreed to let Variya choose a different soul to take control over their body. Presumably, that soul is us, literally, the player, the person playing the game. Could Maria be the soul taking over Emma? Could Emma be the soul taking over Maria?

Who knows.

I do know there are holes in these theories. I know the events of the Renegade Route may complicate everything. (truthfully, I am too much of a wuss to complete the renegade route myself. I watched a youtube video of someone else's playthrough, so I know the broad strokes of what happens, but I definitely don't know the renegade lore in the same way I know paragon. maybe I should rewatch it at some point and take notes)

But this has been bouncing around my brain for too long and I wanted to put it in writing to help organize my thoughts. If you made it this far, wow, you rock! Thanks for reading. I’m interested if anyone has thoughts about this, if anyone can potentially disprove it, or if anyone has their own version or counter version of this idea! I live for this shit.

#pokemon rejuvenation #13.5 #theory #melia #emma #maria #just wanted to dump this somewhere

20 notes · View notes