#I get really gay over silent hill I’m sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birdship · 3 years

Text

(DISCO ELYSIUM SPOILERS)

Wrote this... thing? to sort of explore potentially writing an actual bit of fanfic for Disco Elysium. It's just a short scene set during the time Harry's drifting in and out of consciousness and Kim is taking care of him.

Anyway, here. Self-indulgent gay longing bullshit, but maybe someone else out there will enjoy it?

Very short teaser, since the whole thing is only like 1600 words:

PERCEPTION: The pressure intensifies slightly, and you recognize it is in the shape of a human hand. YOU: Her hand…? PERCEPTION: No. Not hers. VOLITION: Never hers. LOGIC: His, genius. ESPRIT DE CORPS: It’s Kim. Of course it is. You knew it from the moment you saw him, somehow, that this man would take a bullet for you. He almost did. But right now, he’s kneeling beside you, tending to your wound. Gently, so gently reaching into the war zone of your body to peel back the old bandages, soaked in blood and pus, and press clean ones down in their place.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: Well, well! Look what the cat dragged in. You keep slipping away, Harry-boy. Back into that beautiful, dark sea. Where you came from. Where you belong. Even now it presses around you, pale and cold. You’re struggling so hard to keep your head above the water for these precious few seconds of aching consciousness. It would be easier to just… relax.

YOU: Hold on, what was that about a cat?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: There is no cat, you stupid fuck. Pay attention when I’m waxing poetic about the sweet embrace of death.

It’s hard to pay attention. Then again, it’s hard to do anything. Your breathing is shallow and ragged and you’re so, so tired. God are you tired.

PERCEPTION: You become gradually aware that there is a light pressure on your hip. PAIN THRESHOLD: The first small jolt of pain ripples through you, branching like lightning. PERCEPTION: The pressure intensifies slightly, and you recognize it is in the shape of a human hand.

YOU: Her hand…?

PERCEPTION: No. Not hers. VOLITION: Never hers. LOGIC: His, genius. ESPRIT DE CORPS: It’s Kim. Of course it is. You knew it from the moment you saw him, somehow, that this man would take a bullet for you. He almost did. But right now, he’s kneeling beside you, tending to your wound. Gently, so gently reaching into the war zone of your body to peel back the old bandages, soaked in blood and pus, and press clean ones down in their place.

YOU: His hand…

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s warm, electric, somehow both familiar and new all at once. You ache to lean into it and ask for more, more. How long has it been since anyone touched you like this? INLAND EMPIRE: Has anyone ever touched you like this, really? Right down to the core of you? Feeling the wreckage of you, the sharp edges of your heart? Running their fingers so lightly along the cracks of your horrible little brain? ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I meant literally. His hand is on your thigh. PAIN THRESHOLD: Because there’s a fucking gunshot wound there. LOGIC: Come on, don’t make it weird. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I’m not making it weird. VOLITION: You’re definitely making it weird. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Look, all I’m saying is it feels pretty nice, doesn’t it? Being close to him like this. His hands on your body.

YOU: Yeah. It does.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: In the haze of painkillers and recent trauma, your sight becomes clear. Ironic. You’re finally allowing yourself to see something that’s been quietly blossoming inside you over the years. It’s been so hard to ignore, but the alternative is so much worse. You couldn’t look right at it. Didn’t want to. Didn’t think you deserved to. But now, in this moment, lying on a lumpy mattress in the dark, trying not to lose consciousness yet again, with him pressing his hands to your rotting body, desperately staunching the bleeding that never seems to completely stop… Now the world has finally wrung everything out of you. Whatever it was that you had left. And you can do nothing but take the path of least resistance. HALF-LIGHT: You’re keenly aware that you will soon make an absolute goddamn fool of yourself, but are powerless to stop it. The forces are already in motion. PAIN THRESHOLD: Another lightning bolt of pain, worse this time. Agony. You cannot help but gurgle a quiet “fuck.”

The lieutenant glances up at your face with calm concern, thoroughly unsurprised by your outburst. “I know it hurts,” he breathes. “You’ll get through it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, only half-processing his words.

PERCEPTION: His hand lingers ever so slightly, then suddenly it’s gone. The warm, comforting pressure of his company, gone. SUGGESTION: No! You’re going to be alone again! He needs to stay. You need him to be here. Next to you. For as long as possible.

You concentrate every ounce of willpower you have left on sending your right hand out to fish desperately for his before it’s gone.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION: Your hand slaps awkwardly against the sleeve of his jacket. You can’t quite get a grip on it, but your pathetic flailing is hard to ignore, and he stops to give you a quizzical look. VISUAL CALCULUS: That’s the best we could do. I don’t know what you expected from us. Your eyes are still closed.

“Detective?” he says to you. “Just relax. You’re going to be fine, but you need to get some rest.”

“Wait,” you mumble, “please stay.”

DRAMA: This is quite the sad display you’re putting on here, sire. It’s a crowded field, but this new late entry is a strong contender for the gold in the hotly contested “most uncomfortable moment” event at the Sad Old Sack of Shit Olympics.

VOLITION: Come on, you’re stronger than this. HALF-LIGHT: Don’t drag him down with you, you irrepressible fuck-up. What are you even trying to do? INLAND EMPIRE: He’s drowning. Desperate. Reaching for something, anything, to stay afloat. COMPOSURE: It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not anymore. There’s nothing to hold onto. SUGGESTION: Wrong. You have exactly one thing to hold onto right now, and that thing is Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi’s fucking hand.

Kim looks at you with a sort of detached concern for a moment, then gives you a small smile and sits back down next to you without another word. There’s nothing to say, and that’s fine.

EMPATHY: He looks exhausted. His eyes are ringed by dark circles and his shoulders have begun to sag with the weight of the case. The weight of death. The weight of you. He’s carrying so much. ESPRIT DE CORPS: He doesn’t want recognition or pity for it. He knows you’re bearing the same load. Don’t you dare apologize for any of it - this weight is shared. You’re in it together. SUGGESTION: Then why do you feel so guilty, watching him stare silently out the window into the impenetrable night, looking at nothing? You have to say something. Acknowledge his efforts to keep your sorry flesh sack shambling forward another day. VOLITION: No, stop. This is a bad idea. You don’t have to be the sorry cop anymore. In fact, please actively try to stop being that.

“Kim,” you say weakly.

“Yes?” he says, his gaze snapping back to you immediately.

“Thanks.”

“No need for that,” he says quickly.

VOLITION: Grateful cop, huh. Well, I guess that’s a step up. Very slightly less pitiful.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “alright. Sorry.”

VOLITION: Goddammit.

Kim doesn’t say anything. Just watches you with tired, searching eyes.

PERCEPTION: He’s sitting on the very edge of the bed, far away from you, his limbs tucked close to his body except for one hand, which rests lightly on the blanket. VISUAL CALCULUS: It’s still close enough that you could reach out and touch it without too much effort. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Get that sweet dopamine hit, baby! Human contact, the most dangerous drug!

Your fingers brush his hand. He jerks it away immediately, but it seems like an unconscious, automatic reaction.

“Ah,” he says, scooting over a bit. “I’ll give you some space.”

VOLITION: If your goal was to feel like a complete idiot in front of the one person in this shithole that you respect, well, pat yourself on the back. DRAMA: Congratulations, sire, you’ve done it! And what hill might thou plan to die on next? VOLITION: A much steeper one, hopefully. SUGGESTION: Ignore them, try again! PERCEPTION: Finally, your fingers manage to close around his wrist. You can’t see his reaction. Your eyes are closed. You can’t stand to look at the situation you’ve created. VOLITION: Coward. PERCEPTION: His hand is moving, changing position, but not withdrawing. It simply contorts in such a way that your grip relaxes and now it’s his hand that’s resting on top of yours. He is silent, but he’s there. Not moving away. You smell stale cigarette smoke and dry blood lingering in the space between his body and yours. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s too much. This hit, it’s stronger than you expected. It’s fucking devastating, a cold knife twisting its way through your broken body. It hurts. Why does it hurt? EMPATHY: Your eyes are still closed, but you sense that he too is looking elsewhere, similarly unable to look directly at the source of the overwhelming awkward - and quite frankly rather homo-sexual - energy you have brought down upon the room. CONCEPTUALIZATION: Every other human interaction happening inside the Whirling-in-Rags must be going very smoothly right now, because you’ve created a fucking singularity of awkwardness. There’s no more awkwardness left within a 2km radius, you’ve gathered it all right here.

Then, as quickly as the moment began, it’s over. He moves his hand and clears his throat. Probably cleans his glasses. It’s a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed this past week.

A few minutes pass in silence. Then: “Harry?” he whispers quietly.

You don’t answer. You have nothing to say.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this is the harder option. Maybe you’re not ready to look at it. Maybe you’re not ready to look at anything.

“Get some rest,” he says softly. “I need to get back to work.”

EMPATHY: He’s not going to mention this incident. Not now. Not later. Not ever. Not just out of concern for you, but himself. He has no idea how to begin to process it, so he won’t. He’ll tell himself it doesn’t matter, you were just lost in a cloud of drouamine and pain and grief. That you were so out of it that you thought you were reaching for someone else. That vulnerable moment of tenderness could not have been meant for him. But you know the truth. And maybe he does too, somewhere deep down. LOGIC: You are okay with this. You have to be. And so does he. CONCEPTUALIZATION: You’ve glimpsed it now, that radiant thing within you. That bright, unbearable light. It’s so beautiful, so heart-breaking that you can hardly stand it. Maybe a glimpse is enough.

#disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #fan fic #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #this scene brought to you by gay longing and touch starvation

63 notes · View notes

clonemando · 4 years

Text

Late Night

Boba is trying to sleep but Din’s armor clanging as he walks is keeping him awake. (Din and Boba brother fic, no pairings, just brotherly bonding.)

Boba sighed as he heard the sound of metal clanking throughout his ship and he glared at the ceiling. Din had been pacing for the last 4 hours and if he made even one more lap past Boba’s bunk the older bounty hunter wasn’t going to be in control of his actions. The gentle clinking got further away and Boba closed his eyes starting to drift to sleep finally. His breathing slowed and he calmed almost to the brink then *clink clink clink*

“Dank farrik! Djarin! I’m going to strangle you!” He growled throwing himself out of bed and walking out in only his sleep pants to glare at the Mandalorian who had frozen in place.

“Boba? What’s wrong?” He asked and his voice was so innocent Boba had to rub his face to keep from sneering at him. That was just how Din was, he wasn’t faking it to try to mess with him.

“You are. Why are you pacing up and down the Slave like we’re going to be in battle any minute? We’re in hyperspace. We’re safe. Go to kriffing bed Din.” He said sharply while crossing his arms over his chest.

“My pacing has been bothering you? You slept right through that dog fight Fennec fought a few days ago.” Din pointed out and Boba scowled.

“This ship was my father’s. I grew up on it. I know every sound it can make and exactly why it would make those sounds. I knew she had it handled. Your armor isn’t a sound that’s soothing to me.” He said lowly. Which was… partially true. During the day the sound was soothing and reminded him of the safety of when he would hear similar sounds of his father’s armor as he moved around the ship working on things. The difference was that it was the middle of the night and it was too clearly pacing for it to let Boba sleep. It made him tense like he should be expecting something. Jango had never been one to pace unless things were very bad.

“I’m sorry. I just… miss him.” Din murmured the pain in his voice making Boba want to punch something. Damn it. One year in the pit. It had been one year and now he was so easily softened by puppy dog eyes he couldn’t even see.

“Yeah, well… come on.” He grumbled leading Din through the ship trying not to let the following clinking spark his annoyance further. He sat him in a chair in front of a tiny kitchenette and started to prep some tea, choosing one of the spicier flavors knowing Din could handle it.

“You say the word, we’ll go grab the kid and run. The Jedi won’t even bother coming after us.” He offered as he waited for the water to heat. “I still don’t understand how you could just let that-” He let all the terrible words roll through his mind but didn’t say them. “Jedi just walk away with him. After all the work we did to get him.” He added. Din’s head tilted.

“You really don’t like them, do you? The Jedi?” He asked and Boba sighed reminding himself that Din was clueless and had been purposely left out of proper history lessons by the Death Watch so they had more control over him. Not that his personal life was something taught at schools but most people he met already knew his issues with the Jedi. He didn’t have to explain it.

“No, I don’t. They have been a plague to my family for at least three generations and only in the worst ways. I’ve never met one worth knowing and would prefer if I never have to meet another one as long as I live.” He admitted glaring at the cups as he poured the hot water into them and set them aside to let them seep.

“Oh… I was told they were enemy wizards, but the kid needs them. He needs to learn to control himself. The Empire, they won’t stop looking for him. I can’t always be there to fight for him. He needs to learn and I don’t know about all that-” Din waved his hand in the air “Jedi stuff. I can’t teach him.” He finished though he looked even more troubled after what Boba told him.

“The kid will be fine. They won’t hurt him. The Jedi are good to their own… usually. Look, my relationship with the Jedi doesn’t have anything to do with him and if they did have a single thought of doing anything we’d go in and get him out.” He swore causing Din to stare at him long enough it started to make him uncomfortable.

“What?” He demanded moving one cup to the table in front of Din and sitting down with his own looking away so the other Mandalorian could drink without worry of him seeing his face, however he could still feel Din’s gaze on him.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked and Boba sighed.

“I told you it’s beca-” He started but Din cut him off.

“Why are you helping me? You took the armor, I didn’t give it to you. The kid has been rescued and given to the Jedi. You owe me nothing.” He said seriously and Boba took a long sip of tea relishing the warmth and spice as well as the time to pull his thoughts and words together.

“When a Mandalorian dies, if they were true to the creed, they believe they become one with the Manda, yes?” He asked instead and Din nodded, curious to where this would go.

“That’s right. We earn our souls through our actions in life and join with our forbearers in the Manda after death.” He confirmed and Boba nodded.

“I died in the pit. I’m certain of it. I saw my father and grandfather. They were not proud of what I had become. I could have taken the armor back sooner. I knew where Vanth was and that he had it. But then I would have been leaving that village and all who were in it to die. When I die again, I want it to be as someone they will be proud of. But my moral compass is damaged, I know that. I need a spotter. That’s you. You seem to do the right thing by accident most of the time. So long as I keep you around, I’m pretty sure I’ll manage. So… here we are.” He said looking over when Din was silent for several minutes before returning to stare at this empty cup.

“You’re using me as a replacement moral compass because you think I’m… good? I’ve killed people!” Din argued and Boba nodded.

“Din’ika, you are a cinnamon roll compared to the life I’ve lived. Look me up on the holonet sometime. Just promise not to go running for the hills after. I’d hate to have to hunt down my new compass.” Boba said more playfully and Din sorted.

“I’ve heard enough of the stories. Fine. So then you and Fennec want to be part of my clan then?” Din asked and Boba gave him a toothy grin.

“Aww, Din’ika are you asking me to be your Riduur?” He asked batting his eyelashes at him only to get punched in the shoulder making him start to laugh. “I’m too pretty for you anyway.” He added at what he could guess was a horrified face behind Din’s bucket.

“NO! No. I am not interested… that would just be… No. I see you more like a brother.” He said the last part coming out almost shyly and Boba rolled his eyes.

“You need me to say it, don’t you? You’re really tight to this creed. Fine. Ni kar'tayl gai sa’vod. I accept you as my brother Din. Better?” He asked and Din nodded removing his helmet and giving Boba a small smile. Boba had to admit, the face fit his personality even if it wasn’t what he expected.

“Welcome to Clan Mudhorn.” He said offering his arm and Boba took it squeezing his hand.

“You’re a sap Djarin. Don’t think you’ll get me to cuddle away your nightmares now or anything.” He said and Din’s grin widened.

“Aww ori’vod, are you offering to cuddle me to sleep? How sweet.” He teased and Boba glared.

“You won’t be the first brother I’ve thrown out the airlock. Don’t test me.” He said standing as Din gulped down the tea. “And take those damn boots off so I can sleep.” He growled ruffling Din’s hair as he walked by feeling comforted in a way he’d never admit by the laughed that followed him down the hall as he headed back towards his bunk.

#The Mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #boba fett #fanfic #brotherly bonding #Post season 2

102 notes · View notes

lollytea · 4 years

Text

Fearless (part 2/3)

( PART ONE okokok some parts of this are pretty good. some not so good. but the important part is im tryin my goddamn best out here.)

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:02PM] The sun had melted away beneath the distant hills and Louie had somewhat calmed himself down.

At least, he was no longer hyperventilating. The feathery tufts on his cheeks were not as fluffy as before, now clumped together from his waterworks earlier.

He lit the last of his lights, drawing the match away and allowed the head of the flame to seize its last moments. It danced with delight, flickering as it devoured the thin strand of poplar wood.

Louie watched it too long, finding solace in the glow of gentle orange. Just as it was teasing to taste his fingertips, he snuffed it out, not nearly as interested in the arising string of pale smoke. Seven illuminated oil lamps circled his room, washing him in warm, yellow light. But still, It would breed an array of shadows, outlining everything with subtle pools of gloom. Shadows made Louie uneasy. They gave him the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Reminded him of people and powers that were best not to think about. But a shadowy room was preferable to pitch black. He was scared of the dark. Come to think of it, he was scared of a lot of things. Louie had a complicated relationship with fear. He was, by no means, the skittish kid from five years ago. He simply couldn't live with that mindset for long when thrust into the life of McDuck royalty and all the madness and danger attached. So, he adapted. His busiest days tended to fall in the order of breakfast, adventure, magic, certain doom, barely escaping with your life and then sleep. Rinse and repeat. Living like that didn't phase him much anymore. How could it when he was surrounded by the most courageous family put on this earth? And when you continue to survive when that was your Day-to-Day, it had a tendency to boost your confidence. He had gotten braver for sure. Much braver. And yet, he couldn't help but feel like he was lying to himself sometimes. Being afraid of the world around him had never quite faded, he just gotten much better at handling it. Recent years made things all the more messy. His brothers weren't as brave as they used to be these days. Not after what they went through. As a spot of hope, Huey was starting to rebuild a stronger, improved version of his old self. But Dewey still needed time. It made Louie wonder if his intrepid brothers could be broken like this, should he even bother trying to toughen up? He had never been like them. Not naturally, at least. He didn't stand a chance when his time came. He figured that with all he's experienced, he should've at least developed past his more irrational fears. But he didn't. Deep down, silly stuff still unsettled him. Spiders, violence, surprises. The dark. Ty knew he was afraid of the dark. Ty knew most of the stuff he was afraid of. And despite teasing Louie for pretty much everything else, never his fears. He claimed his brother was the same so he didn't find it all that weird. Louie called bullshit on that one. From what little he knew about Ben, it was impossible to picture that guy being scared of the dark. Ty was most likely trying to ease his insecurity. It didn't work. He felt uncomfortable sometimes, being somebody scared of so much, being close with somebody like Ty. Fearless. It sorta made him wonder if he was inferior. As if standing alongside Ty just wasn't right. The balance didn't seem equal. Wow. Louie was never gonna be good enough, was he? Wait, no, stop it. Fucking stop it. He had no right to be feeling all sorry for himself for the probability that he wasn't good enough for Ty. On the grounds that he wasn't brave enough? No. Of course Louie wasn't good enough for Ty. That was an irrefutable fact. But what mattered right now was that his carelessness had almost gotten Ty killed today and he couldn't, in good conscience, be focusing on anything else. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. That was a little more important than "Boohoo, cute bear boy is never gonna kiss me. I'm sad." To make matters worse, Louie had gone and chosen the perfect time to figure out he was in love with Ty. Sure, It had left him happily dopey at the time. But now, after everything that happened, it was like his imaginary little love letter left a paper cut on his heart and splashed it with lemon juice. Ty was going to resign as his retainer. The more Louie said this to himself, the easier it would be to accept it when he received the news. It was truly possible Ty was currently out of his life for good. As much as Louie was trying to talk himself into hunting the boy down right this minute and begging for forgiveness, there was a part of him speculating that Ty would prefer not to see his stupid royal face ever again. It hurt. It really did hurt. But if that's what Ty wanted, Louie would silently abide by the request. He hated to admit it but the spineless side of him didn't want to face Ty either. The last look at him had been his still body laying on an iron bedstead in the castle infirmary. Beakley had assured the stricken Louie that Ty was not dead but refused to divulge the details as she ushered him out and exiled him to his room for the rest of the night. He needed to see Ty conscious. He needed to see him alive. It would be one weight off his chest just to know his retainer had bounced back. But also.....he didn't want to know the damage he'd done. He want to know how badly Ty had been wounded nor how close he had brushed by death. It had been Louie's fault. And he knew that. But the thought of confronting it head-on was a difficult reality to swallow. Even though he should. He should. Completely unrelated but another dumb, embarrassing thing that made him jump out of his skin? Sudden noises. Still completely unrelated but there was a knock at his door.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 11:24AM]

The sky was clear, the autumn air wasn't chilly but pleasantly crisp and there was a lively gathering in the forest. It was held in a wide clearing, bursting with happy people, milling around and chatting. Surrounding them was an almost perfect circle of tangled old oaks, their branches wreathed with strings of homemade lanterns and flower garlands.

Ty and Louie were quick to turn on tunnel vision towards the table with a large arrangement of party food. They came away with armfuls of bread, cheese, fruits and two tankards of apple cider. They found a spot for themselves, hiding away behind a stack of bailed hay just on the outskirts of the festivities. They set up their little feast, which they wasted no time in devouring.

There were minstrels playing a vibrant tune. But even with all their flutes, fiddles and practice, they fell short in comparison to the natural music of Ty Cloudkicker's laughter. Louie was talking fast. He was gravitating into Ty's space as he did so, lured in by the bubbling sound. He was eager, grinning deliriously as he spouted out more and more of his story to keep the laugh from fading.

As if it was a lifeline. Like the back of his mind was utterly terrified it would stop. Yet he was entranced with a flood with endorphins, so enamored with the resonance that he couldn't help but be elated as he rattled on to keep himself alive. "Okay, so nobody specifically told Uncle Donald that keeping snacks in your crown was not considered "Kingly" behavior. But see, he just saw it as an extra pocket. He didn't get what the big deal was."

When Ty laughed hard enough, he started snorting. He attempted to control himself. Louie wished he wouldn't. "So imagine being one of those advisor buzzard dorks, right? And you're having this big, important royal audience with the new king. And then right in the middle of discussing warships or something, he reaches into his crown, (not breaking eye contact.) and starts munching on a fish sandwich. They looked at him like he just spat on their mothers' graves." The octave skyrocketed and Ty disintegrated into high pitched cackles, tightly clutching his side as if he would split in half. It swept away the narrative in Louie's head, fizzling the thought process as he continued to gaze at Ty as if he were channeling golden light. However, his brain did not send the memo to this mouth that it was time to stop talking. Which led to Louie stuttering out "And the--....He--...uh, he--,um...." a brainless smile slapped on his face all the while. He couldn't stop smiling. He was crashing and burning and he couldn't stop smiling. He was certain he would be humiliated over this blunder later but right now, it was pretty funny. Thankfully, his subconscious had mercy on him, cutting him off with a nervous, breathless giggle. Ty was oblivious to whatever kind of gay breakdown Louie was having as he was trying to regain composure from his own hysterics. He was beginning to calm down, occasional wheezy yet delighted noises still sputtering out of him. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back with a shaky exhale, still stuck with that huge sunny smile. They fell into a silence in the aftermath, content to sit and just listen to the music. Ty picked up his cider and took a gulp. Louie mirrored him. Then Ty's entire frame bucked with a surprise hiccup and Louie nearly choked. He was pretty sure he saw his whole life flash before his eyes as he collapsed into a coughing fit, Ty thumping him firmly on the back. "I'll live, I'll live!" Louie gasped, regaining himself. "Stop hitting me, I bruise like a peach." "Sorry." He drew his hand away. Then he hiccuped again and Louie lost it. "It's not funny!" Ty insisted, a desperate crack to his voice. It was pretty hilarious, actually. Not just the ridiculous little noises, but the way his shoulders jumped and how he would blink in split second afterwards, startled and bewildered like a baby animal. Ty gave him a shove, Louie still snickering and flailing his hands to halfheartedly fend him off. "Hey, hey, what gives you the right to attack me? I nearly choked and died 'cause of you." "Sounds like a "you" problem." "Where'd those hiccups even come from? Your papa bear never teach you not to drink your cider so fast?" Ty's bottom lip jutted out, irritated. He shook his head "Nah, it's--" Hic. Louie snorted. "Shut up!" He snapped. Yeah, his face was definitely a darker shade of pink than usual. "Sometimes I get hiccups if I laugh too much." "Huh. that's a thing that can happen?" "Yeah. A thing I gotta live with." Hic. "Lemme guess, this hasn't happened in a while?" "Huh?" Ty turned to him, perplexed. "Nah, it happens all the time. And when I tell ya it's the most annoying thing--" "You can't be serious." Louie smiled with a disbelieving shake of the head. "You, like, barely laugh anymore." "What's that supposed to mean?" "What?" He shrugged. "You don't." Ty rolled his eyes and directed his vision elsewhere. "I usually do whenever I go back to the glen." "Are Ben and Lottie really that funny?" "They are the least funny people I know. Also they suck and they're cheaters and I hate them." Hic. Let's see. So, he was clearly pouting. Acting all petty about his siblings. The Glen. Laughing to the point of hiccups. "Lots of tickle fights, huh?" Louie deduced, a smirk playing across his beak. Ty considered him for a moment, as if he was thinking about decking him right then and there but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort. (Louie was offended.) He then looked off into the distance, an indescribably haunted look in his eye. "Soooo....I'm gonna guess you usually lose the tickle fi--?" "I do not!" Ty abruptly yelled, shooting him an indignant look. "Let's get this straight, if it's one-on-one, I win. I always win. You better not forget that, your highness." He jabbed Louie's chest with his forefinger. "I'm the best fighter out of the three of us. In fact, I probably got the potential to be the best fighter in the whole kingdom!" "Real modest." "It's just if they team up, then it's unfair! That's why they're--" Hic. Louie watched, delightfully entertained as Ty hissed "God. Damn. Hiccups." "And how often do they team up?" He didn't answer right away. Then reluctantly grumbled "Most of the time." "So what I'm hearing is--...." Louie casually leaned against Ty's side, propping his elbow on the latter's shoulder. "You do lose most of the time?" "Shut up." "No." "Okay, so here's the thing. Let's say you're a big, strong brave knight. You're super cool and heroic and everybody respects you." Hic. "Then you go back home and then suddenly you're just someone else's baby brother and they see you just standing there, minding your business and they're just like "Well! Guess I gotta obliterate him!" And they do not hold back." "Ohhhhh, I get that, I totally get that." Said Louie. "Well, not the brave knight part. But y'know. Me and my brothers had to share a room. It was tiny. There was always a foot in your face or whatever. And sometimes when were bored, they started getting rowdy and throwing hands and it's not like I asked but I got dragged in too. When I was just trying to sleep, man! I wasn't asking for a spontaneous duel at 2am." Ty snorted. "Oh yeah, and sometimes Dewey calls me a little bitch." "He's right." Louie knocked his body against Ty's, making a sound of faux outrage. Ty only found that funnier. Huffing, Louie pawed around for the cluster of grapes at his side. He twisted one free and twirled it around his fingers for a moment. "Watch this. I can feel it. I'm gonna do it this time." "Are you now?" Said Ty in such a distinctly pleasant tone that Louie could not possibly interpret it any other way than "I do not believe that but I'm humoring you but I also want you to understand that my sweet voice is oh, so bitterly sarcastic. Fuck you." "I see you're doubting me." "Me? Doubt my liege? I could never." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're a real court jester. Now shut up and observe." Louie wiped all expression from his face and inhaled deeply to obtain peak tranquility. He relaxed his whole frame. If he could pull this off, this would be his day for sure. Ty was watching. This moment would define his life. Thinking a hasty prayer to every known God, force and entity that had ever favored the unlikely ones, he tossed the grape in the air, threw his head back and opened his beak. The grape finished rising and gravity took control. It fell. Down, down, down, down. Louie now understood the concept of meditation. He was so in the zone, he could've sworn the grape was descending in slow motion. Yes, yes, it was aligning directly below his beak. He was gonna catch it! Down, down, down, down. Then Ty snatched it right out of the air and swallowed it whole. Louie sat, slack jawed, attempting to process what had just happened. He slowly turned to Ty, completely blank. Huh. That moment really did define his life. "You bastard!" He squawked. "Me bastard!" Ty exclaimed, looking insufferably proud of himself. "How could you?! I know our allyship has been complicated but this is high treason!" "Sorry, sorry, I just--" He sat back a little, shaking with silent laughter. He then formed a square with his hands and hovered it before Louie, squinting one eye. "I just needed to see the face you would make and god, it was worth it. You think you could hold that face for a few hours to get a portrait made? I'd get it framed and hang it in my room." He was teasing him. Louie knew he was teasing him. And yet he still blushed bright red from the fragment of fondness blurred in the implication. "W-well, well I would--I'd--" He floundered, racking his brain for a retort. "You think there's any musical instruments that could replicate your dorky little hiccups? I'd hire minstrels just to have them play it for me! Y'know, for when I need a laugh." Ty's smug grin dropped and his eyes flicked about uncertainly. "I--..." He dragged the word out, face flushing at a rapid rate as he folded his knees up to curl in on himself. He crossed his arms. "I think they're gone now anyway." He mumbled. Hic. God, that never got old. "If you laugh one more time, I'm putting you in a tree and leaving you there." Louie laughed again, out of spite. "Nobody's fault but your own. Imagine you've just fought an epic battle and you think there's no more enemies to take on. But as soon as you say that out loud, boom! Second ambush! You would think a warrior like you would get that." "Your highness?" "Yeah?" "Shut your huge mouth." "No." "Okay. Dunno why I thought that would work. Never does." "Y'know I would offer to spook your hiccups away. But we both know that wouldn't work." "Yeah, probably not." Said Ty with a shake of his head. He perked up a bit. "Lottie gave it a shot once. Nothing." "Well, it's just like you said that one time." Louie shrugged, then faltered when the back of his mind took notice of the dimly glowing orange irises he was met with. His voice softened involuntarily. "You're fearless." He didn't know what he said wrong. Ty's face fell. He looked so utterly devastated that Louie, completely lost to why he was even upset, felt his own heart shatter to pieces. He wanted to start sobbing just from seeing him. "Oh..." Ty whispered. He clutched one of his hands with the other and began fidgeting with his fingers. "Well, see. Uh, the thing about that is--...." Concerned, Louie scooched in closer, peering at the face that had once again turned away from him. He hesitantly touched Ty's upper arm. "Hey. Ty. Are you--?" "HEY, LOOK AT THAT!" Ty blurted out, his voice nervously rising in pitch. He attempted to subtly clear his throat. Louie followed the direction of Ty's pointer finger which was gesturing out to the thick expanse of forestry. There was nothing there. But then he caught a flash of movement and noticed two figures tucked away in the shadows of the trees. A young man and woman, probably only a few years older than them. "The couple?" Louie asked, puzzled. "The what now?" Then Ty did a double take, then snapped to attention as if he had just noticed them. "Oh! Oh, yeah, them, sure. I mean, yeah, that's what I meant. Them. Uhhh....look at them!" "Uh. Okay? Why?" "Theeeyyyy're....cute? Gross? They're something. They're definitely something." Louie hummed, taking the two into consideration. The girl was letting out a peal of laughter and the guy was blabbing away animatedly, looking thrilled with himself that she was finding him funny. He was trying so hard.... Louie didn't know if he wanted to gag or coo out an "aww!" "Grossly cute." He decided. Ty snapped his fingers. "That's it!" "You know, I don't get why they're over there. There's tons of people around here. Why would you wanna show up to a party if you're just gonna hide away and hang out with one person the whole time?" "For real though." For the next few minutes, Ty and Louie observed the couple, keeping up a running commentary on the guy's obvious nerves and the girl's less than subtle advances. Ty and Louie learned a lot about themselves in those few minutes. Namely that they were both terrible at lip reading. "He said Pants." Ty was certain. "No, he said Nance." Louie countered. "Her name is probably Nancy." The girl clapped her hands together, nodding eagerly. "Then what's that for, huh? Clearly he just offered to tailor her a personalized pair of pants." "You are so dumb, that's not what's happening here at all." The guy took a dramatic step back and twirled his wrist an unnecessary amount of times before offering her his hand with a half-bow. She took it, giggling. The two them scampered off, out of the shadows and into the heart of the party, where other couples were twirling around as the minstrels played. He curled an arm around her waist, smiling as though this was his greatest honor and they spun into the motion, flowing so naturally amidst the other dancers as if they were simply another cogwheel in the world's most elegant clock. "Dance." Said Ty and Louie in unison. "Pretty sure we were close." "Pretty sure we're idiots." "Yeah, I know but just let me pretend." Ty suddenly snickered, his eyes glinting. "What was that thing he did with his hand anyway? And why did she eat it up?" "It's called flair, Tiberius." "Kinda dumb." "You're just mad that flair is not something you possess." "Bullshit, watch this!" Ty sat up straight and bent his arm into a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Prepare to be amazed." And then his entire forearm began to spin and spin and spin and spin and spin like a windmill in a hurricane. "Flair, flair, flair, flair," He was chanting and Louie had already collapsed in a giggle fit. It wasn't even remotely funny. It was dumb, it was so dumb. But Louie could admit to himself that dumb schticks get like ninety percent more humorous to him if there's a really cute boy performing them. He was easy like that. Ty was extremely committed to the joke as he kept spinning and spinning for over ten seconds. He kept shooting Louie glances and his grin got wider and wider every time he looked away. "FLAIR!" He let his arm go, throwing out an open palm and nearly knocked it against the side of Louie's head. "Hey!" He dodged. "Watch where you swing that thing, you could've whacked me!" "But I didn't!" Said Ty gleefully. He lowered his hand but did not withdraw. It remained unwavering and offered out to Louie. He took it. He didn't think, he just took it. It was only when they made contact that Louie woke up and his heart promptly spiked. But besides a light blush, he managed to keep his face neutral. "So, I guess it's not just that girl who's impressed by this stuff." Ty was nonchalant. His smile then twitched, as if aching to stretch wider but he was reigning it in. "You are too." They were still touching, which, by all accounts, should continue to fluster Louie. But as seconds ticked by, a sense of calm was settling over him. The very thing originally causing panic was now bringing him comfort. It was the weirdest thing, "I was laughing at you, not with you." He said evenly, catching Ty's contagious smile. "Ehh," He shrugged. "I'll take it." Louie would count this as a new domain for sure. Uncharted waters. As if he and Ty had stumbled in accidentally but now they were here, their curiosity was urging them to explore. Not to a dangerous extent, of course. But maybe just edge along the sidelines and see what they could discover. "Your hands are so tiny, it's crazy." Ty commented, tilting his head. Turning it over, he slid his thumb thoughtfully across Louie's palm. "How do you even hold anything?" Louie wasn't even eyeing their hands but was regarding Ty's pensive face. "It's kinda the worst. Whenever we find treasure and I get my cut, the fancy rings and bracelets are huge. I always gotta go to a jeweler and get them resized if I wanna wear them."' Ty was fiddling with Louie's fingers now, fixing him with a decisive nod. "I'll get you a ring for Christmas." "Woah, woah. For real?" "Yeah. I'll put it in one of those fancy boxes. But then you'll open it and see it's made out of grass and try to have me beheaded." As they were speaking, their hands continued to play around. Ty had flattened his own, aligning his palm against Louie's. Louie spread his fingers and Ty laced his through. "Uncle Donald says I'm not allowed to say "Off with his head" anymore or I'm grounded 'til I'm thirty-five. It "makes the people want to revolt."" Louie air-quoted with his free hand. "But I would fire you for sure." Ty snorted. "You would not and you know it." There would never be any proof that they held hands that day. Not a single eye witnesses, including themselves, as both boys had turned a blind eye to their own actions. They were afraid to look down, as that would be an acknowledgement. Louie had no mental image of the moment, fuschia fur intertwined with snow feathers, only a rush of heat and a hazy ponder if the dampness was his sweat or Ty's. And if the feel of Ty's touch was just an illusion of the mind, there was one poignant hint of the reality and that was how gentle their voices had gotten. "Oh, so, you're really gonna test me like that, Tiberius? Pushing me around, stealing grapes, calling me a little bitch. Is this any way to treat your liege? You don't think I'm at the end of my rope with you?" "Nahhhh...." Ty drew the word out, grinning. He twisted his muzzle into an exaggerated pout and batted his eyes. "You would never because I'm awesome and cool and smart and you love me." It was Ty's utter nerve that left Louie too astonished to even blush. Instead, he simply tilted his head, an eyebrow cocked. "Do I?" He challenged. To his credit, Ty did not relent either. However, the impishness gradually died from his eyes until he was left solemn. "Maybe?" He spoke softly, as though too much force would crack the delicate little word. He bore into Louie's eyes, like he was searching for an answer. Pleading for an answer. Louie felt his own hand squeeze Ty's. He inhaled. He knew he was going to say something, he was just leaving it up his own scattered subconscious to determine what. He would open his beak and whatever words wound up tumbling out would seal his fate. He didn't have a second to panic, to fret, as he was already speaking and he was petrified by how fast this was all going. "I--" Something shattered and a woman screamed in pain. Indistinct shouting and Ty cursed under his breath. Louie scrambled around to see the commotion and the last few things he registered were the gleam of sunlight catching unsheathed weapons, the girl he called Nancy with crimson pooling from her forehead, Ty demanding "Get down!" and knocking him stomach-down into the ground.

“Stay there and don’t move.” Then Ty had rushed off and everything went to shit.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:13PM] Louie was well acquainted with that knock. Firstly, one firm rap against wood, proceeded by two more rapid-fire. He associated it with a twinge of annoyance, high sun beams streaking in his window and somebody near, dear and insufferable to his heart, pestering him from the other side to rise and shine already or his breakfast would go stale. This usually occurred around 9:30AM. If given a say in the matter, Louie would sleep til noon. But he didn't have a say in the matter because every morning, without fail, there was a retainer banging down his door. Something was off this time. Once he knocked, Ty had fallen uncharacteristically silent. No continuation of drumming out an obnoxious little tune and and no insisting he open up. Louie was hesitant to do much of anything. It seemed his door was the only thing protecting him from facing repercussions right now. If he fell deep enough into denial, he could pretend Ty wasn't there. So long as he kept his door shut, he could pretend everything was alright. Ty didn't almost die. It was a tempting thought. It resounded in such an appealing voice inside his head that Louie seized his latch before he could give in. The brass shocked a chill to the pads of his fingers as he held on tight. He had to open up. He had to. His hand fidgeted, stalling the moment. He thumped his forehead against the door, heaving a steadying sigh. "You don't wanna see me, do you, your highness?" He heard Ty say in hushed tones, his voice startlingly close to where Louie had situated himself. "Ehh, if we're being honest....not really." "Oh...." "Do you wanna see me?" "I mean....I kinda don't? The idea of seeing you right now is making me nauseous." The statement skewered Louie's heart. He shook it off. "Why'd you knock?" "'Cause it doesn't matter what I want, I gotta see you right now. It's important." An prolonged pause hung in the air, buzzing with a mutual uncertainty. Louie tapped his fingers to the wood and after a second or two, Ty did the same. Their respective rhythms aligned. "But..." Ty continued, his voice faltering. "If you don't wanna see me, I can go--" "Convince me." Louie was blurting out before he thought twice about it. "Huh?" "I need to open this door but, like surprise surprise, I'm scared. You've done it before. I get scared and you talk me into stuff. Do your big strong hero magic and get me to suck it up. Please, I need it." "Oh, uh, I--" He could hear how flustered Ty had gotten suddenly being put on the spot. "Well, I--...I guess you don't have a choice 'cause if you don't open up, I'm strong enough to barricade the door down. So, I figure we should just do this the easy way." Despite the circumstances and the scruple wrung tense in his stomach, Louie felt the corner of his beak twitch at the tentative touch to Ty's tone. He felt his stiff shoulders relax. "Is that a threat, Tiberius?" "Uh, no." Ty admitted, sounding sheepish. "That was just a joke. See, it was the first thing that came into my head and then suddenly I was saying it. Sorry, I dunno for sure if now is "joke time" and I figured it'd be kinda weird to ask so--" He didn't get to finish rambling. His hair whipped to the side with the rush of air that came with the swift swing of the door. Louie fixed him with a hard look, processing the sight of his retainer standing there, alive and bright eyed. Ty's hand was still hovering awkwardly in the air, where he assumed it had been resting against the door. He blinked back at him, puzzled and a little alarmed, as if caught under a spotlight. He didn't look angry. But Louie knew better than to lull himself into thinking he was in the clear. Whatever resentment Ty was feeling would spill out in time. Louie braced himself. "Hey, Ty." He said stiffly. "Come on in."

#ty cloudkicker #fairytale au

79 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years

Text

you know the drill. have some fluffy riconti <3

ship: felix x ace warnings: mentioned (past) sexual content word count: 2430

[previous] [next]

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 3)

When Felix wakes up, he immediately notices something is off.

There's a brief moment of panic when he realizes he's not in his own bed, the layout of the strange room different than what he’s used to. To make matters worse, someone stirs next to him in the bed, and Felix—

Has his hand on the man's bicep and has apparently slept curled up next to him.

Ace is still asleep, sprawled out on his back on the hotel bed, snoring softly without a care in the world.

Felix recalls last night. There was the fire alarm, and they'd talked while sharing a blanket for warmth. Then, he'd invited Ace up, they'd kissed, Ace had agreed to stay the night…

… And things had escalated to the point where Felix had come in his pants like a teenager.

Felix buries his face in his pillow in embarrassment and silently wishes the earth would swallow him whole. Nothing about this situation is like him at all; usually, he’s careful to a fault, and having a one-night-stand with a man he just met has been something reserved only for fantasies.

But Ace hadn’t seemed to mind. On the contrary, he’d been understanding and even encouraging, not running for the hills despite Felix’s numerous fuck-ups.

Felix peeks up from the pillow and looks at Ace. Something flutters in his gut upon taking in his bedmate's relaxed features while he sleeps. And then something different stirs in his groin when he realizes Ace is shirtless, a lean arm stretched behind his pillow, the duvet only covering half of his hairy chest.

It's embarrassing how much the proximity of a very male body next to Felix is enough to wake his libido, years' worth of repressed sexuality now hitting him full force. He barely resists the urge to reach out and touch the grey curls, not wanting to wake Ace, since they don't have anywhere to be—

Shit!

Felix bolts up to sit on the bed and frantically glances around the room for a clock, acutely reminded that he's here for business and not a gay escapade.

“Oof!” Ace protests and flinches awake when Felix accidentally knees him in the ribs.

“Sorry,” Felix apologizes half-heartedly, finally spotting the alarm clock on the nightstand next to Ace.

Seeing the numbers 8:40, Felix immediately sighs in relief and slumps back down on the bed. He still has plenty of time before his business appointment.

“Sleep well?” Ace's asks, voice groggy with sleep while he blinks awake.

“Yes,” Felix says. “Uhm… and you?” he asks awkwardly, immediately feeling much more self-conscious now that Ace is awake.

“Like a baby,” Ace flashes Felix a grin but doesn't meet his eyes.

Ace proceeds to sit up, before yawning long and loud, stretching his arms above his head.

And Felix stares like an absolute creep at the way Ace's shoulder muscles move with the action. He wants to run his hands all over them, thanking his luck that they still have time for a lazy morning under the covers.

“Well, I should probably get out of your hair,” Ace says, shattering Felix's daydream. “Leave you to prepare for your important meeting.”

Ace pulls the covers away from himself and turns to get out of bed, and Felix wants to protest—

“No,” Felix finds himself saying out loud, Ace's head immediately whipping around to look at him in surprise.

“I, ehm,” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I have time. If you do too,” he manages lamely.

A smile slowly spreads over Ace's face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and a familiar warmth sparkle within them.

“It's kinda chilly, huh?” Ace grins, leaving Felix confused.

“Not particularly—” he starts, feeling almost too warm under the thick duvet.

“We should cuddle for warmth,” Ace interrupts before eagerly slipping back between the covers, making realization dawn on Felix.

“You're right,” he says, playing along while trying not to smile like an idiot as Ace scoots closer. “I'm very cold.”

“Well, can't have that, now can we?” Ace smiles, lifting the covers and extending his arm, and Felix gratefully take the opportunity to cuddle up to him.

Sighing blissfully as Ace's arms wrap around him, Felix buries his face in the crook between Ace's neck and shoulder.

Making good of his earlier thought, Felix brings one of his hands up from Ace’s back to smooth over the man’s shoulders. Ace hums in approval and starts petting Felix's hair, and Felix never realized just how nice it is to be held. His few girlfriends were always much more petite than him, and even though Ace is shorter and smaller than him, he's broader and bigger than a woman and Felix feels safe in his arms.

Felix's other hand, on its own accord, comes up to rest on Ace's chest, and it's only when the man huffs in amusement that Felix realizes he's been playing with his chest hair again.

And it suddenly hits him just how weird it is that he's happily cuddling the man he only met technically today without technically even having sex with him.

“This probably isn't how a normal hook-up goes, huh?” Felix realizes, hesitantly stilling the movement of his hand.

“Not really,” Ace chuckles, the sound reverberating in his chest under Felix's hand. “But normal’s boring anyway, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Felix murmurs with a smile, doubts successfully reassured. On impulse, he places a soft peck on Ace's neck.

When the other shivers and gasps, Felix pulls back to look at him, startled by the reaction.

“Uh, neck's kinda sensitive,” Ace offers with a sheepish grin.

Well. It sure would be a shame if someone used that information for their advantage later tonight.

“I don't know whether to be turned on or scared,” Ace jokes, seeing the mischievous smile on Felix's face.

“Later,” Felix says, leaning in for a kiss that Ace dodges, Felix's lips landing on Ace's stubbled cheek.

“I promise you don't wanna taste my mouth right now” Ace explains. “It's a distinct combination of booze and death.”

Felix would like to pretend like he's not grossed out by morning breath, but then remembers he didn’t even offer to lend Ace a hotel toothbrush last night.

“Fair enough,” Felix says, settling for kissing Ace's bearded jaw instead.

The prickling under his lips is pleasant and, again, so distinctly masculine. Felix can't help nuzzling into Ace's jawline, his own morning stubble rasping against the trimmed beard.

“Having fun?” Ace teases, returning the gesture, scraping his beard over Felix's stubbled cheek.

“Sorry,” Felix chuckles. “It's just different. In a good way.”

“I'm not judging,” Ace grins. “If you wanna bump your head into me and knead my chest hair like a cat, go right ahead.”

“I'm… a little obsessed, sorry,” Felix says, a hand running through said chest hair once again.

“Baby, a guy with your face? You can do whatever you want with me," Ace purrs suggestively, and Felix feels heat rising up his neck.

“Do you really think I look good?” Felix asks, almost regretting it once he realizes just how insecure he sounds.

Sure, his ex-girlfriends complimented him every now and then, but that's what couples do, right? The kids back in his school years sure didn't make it a secret how "weird" and "boring" they thought Felix was.

“Don't tell me no one ever told you how pretty you are,” Ace grins. At Felix's confused frown, Ace's smile falters. “Fuck me, no one ever told you how pretty you are.”

“People don't generally tend to compliment strangers,” Felix points out.

“They should if the stranger looks like you!” Ace exclaims, now sounding almost offended on his behalf. “Okay, babe, listen. This is important,” Ace says, grabbing Felix by the shoulder and looking straight into his eyes.

“You're gorgeous,” Ace says. “And, yeah, I don’t really tend to be stingy with compliments, but you're easily in the top five of most attractive people I've ever seen in my life.”

“You said this was important,” Felix says with a small smile, trying not to flush from the praise.

“It is!” Ace insists. “You need to know that you're a ten and you can't spend your life picking up fives and sixes.”

Felix frowns, not really seeing where Ace is going with this.

“I mean obviously I'm not referring to myself—” Ace hurries to add. “But if you ever start getting more involved in the hookup scene, you need to set the bar high. Because trust me, you're not gonna run out of options.”

Felix barely resists the urge to tell Ace that he can't see himself sleeping with men that aren't him, but manages to just nod instead so he doesn’t sound too clingy.

He's still flustered that Ace finds him this attractive and isn't afraid of saying so. Maybe it's a cultural thing, the Argentine much more free with his compliments than is customary in Germany.

“So, now that we've established how hot you are…” Ace starts, sensing Felix's awkwardness about being in the spotlight like this. “You probably didn't have the time to check out the breakfast buffet, huh?”

“No, I only got here last night,” Felix says.

At the mention of food, Felix suddenly notices a pang in his belly, signaling an empty stomach. Having only had a couple of pathetic airplane meals for the past 24 hours, breakfast is sounding pretty tempting right about now.

“Well, need some help with that?” Ace suggests.

“Help?” Felix asks, confused.

“You know,” Ace gestures lazily with his hand. “Get all the insider information. Which cereal to pick. Whether apple or orange juice is better. Important stuff.”

Hearing the strange suggestion, something clicks in Felix's head.

“Are you asking if I want to have breakfast together?” Felix asks.

“Is it working?” Ace grins.

“Somehow, yes,” Felix says, and Ace’s smile widens even further.

“I hate to say it, but we should probably get out of bed in that case,” Ace says, sitting up on the bed and taking the cozy warmth of his body away. “I'll swing by my room to freshen up. See you downstairs in half an hour?” he offers over his shoulder, starting to dress himself.

“Sounds good,” Felix agrees, hurrying to get out of bed so he'll have time to make himself look presentable.

Making for the bathroom to brush his teeth, he walks past his phone on the desk, suddenly remembering something crucial.

“Oh,” Felix says, making a nearly-dressed Ace perk up and look at him. “Can I please have your number, just in case? I don't want to lose you again.”

“Aww, babe,” Ace smirks. “The three seconds we were separated by the elevator were hard on me too.”

“You know what I mean,” Felix mutters, shooting Ace a half-hearted glare.

“I do, I do,” Ace defuses with a smile, walking up to Felix with a partially buttoned shirt and extending his hand. “Here, I’ll type it for you.”

As Felix hands over his phone and watches Ace add his number, his gaze inadvertently drifts down to the man's exposed chest. The crumpled, pastel pink shirt combined with the generous neckline exposing a hairy chest should look nothing short of ridiculous and trashy.

Instead, Felix forces his eyes away before his sweatpants start tenting suspiciously. What the hell is wrong with him?

“There!” Ace finally finishes his task and hands Felix back his phone. “Call me?” Ace suggests and—thankfully—proceeds to button his shirt most of the way up.

Felix glances at the number, smiling as he sees "Ace ♠️" as the contact name.

“Cute,” Felix comments when he presses the call button.

“Not as cute as you,” Ace winks, grabbing his own phone that lights up on the nightstand. “Thanks babe, I got it.”

“Do I even want to know what you're saving me as?” Felix mutters, intrigued.

“Oops, would you look at that, gotta run!” Ace grins, avoiding the question and making for the door. “See you in thirty, handsome!”

“Be safe,” Felix reflexively calls after him, and Ace turns and raises an eyebrow, making Felix choke on his own embarrassment. “I mean… yes. See you soon.”

Like he should have said in the first place. You know, like a normal person.

Instead of making fun of him, Ace just smiles in a kind of derpy way.

“Can you stop being so adorable?” Ace teases, but then he's out of the door before Felix can even begin to think of a reply.

Left to his own devices, Felix realizes he only has thirty minutes to shower, shave and get ready for what is essentially his first date with a man.

He hurries to the bathroom and turns on the shower, a flash of shame shooting through him as he spots his previously soiled boxers still drying on the towel rack.

Still, he manages to shower, shave, blow dry his hair and brush his teeth with ten minutes to spare.

But then he runs into his next crisis; what the hell does he wear?

Felix ends up laying all of his outfits on the bed, and yes, five entire outfits might have been excessive for a three-day-trip, but it sure comes in handy now.

Does he wear his work clothes? It might be overdressing for the occasion. He can't wear the leather jacket, since they’re only going to be indoors. Can he go with the t-shirt and vest? Will Ace think he's a slob?

Suddenly recalling Ace has only seen him in his pajamas, Felix realizes anything he chooses to wear is probably a vast improvement.

And then he also realizes he only has three minutes left, having wasted most of his time overthinking his outfit choice.

No small amount of cursing later, Felix manages to dress himself in the casual outfit, only fretting momentarily over whether the jeans are too casual or not. Since he has no time left to gel his hair into place, he haphazardously brushes his bangs over to one side and hopes that it’s good enough.

Barely remembering his keycard, Felix is out of the door with only one minute to spare, power-walking to the elevator.

He pushes the call button, and then pushes it again… and again, when the elevator isn't fucking arriving. He glances at his watch, remembers he didn't remember to put on a watch, sighs and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. But at least the elevator is finally here—

“Fancy seeing you here,” Ace quips as soon as the doors slide open.

#riconti #ace visconti #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #felix x ace

21 notes · View notes

nyctolovian · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Queer Beer Frontier

This is an incredibly self-indulgent word vomit of my sexuality/gender headcanons for TMA S1 Archival Gang.

Summary: The S1 Archival Gang are all not cishet. That's the whole fic.

Link to AO3

"Am I right, Jon?"

With eyes glazed over with intoxication, he looked up from his glass. "Huh?"

"Keira Knightley," Tim said, raising an eyebrow. "You're the only person I can turn to for this. The other two are useless in this regard."

"I don't… I don't get…" Jon frowned and glanced towards the other two at the table. Neither was of any help though, because Sasha merely stared at him silently with amusement twinkling in her eyes while Martin busied himself with… something under the table. "What are you talking about?"

"Aww... Doesn't he look adorable when he's confused?" Sasha said, turning to Martin, who sputtered and glared indignantly back at her.

Before Jon could even begin to decipher what just transpired, Tim threw his head back and groaned so loudly a giggly group of girls at the other table peered at him curiously. In a futile attempt to avoid any association to this scene, Jon scrunched his body to hide behind his (conveniently) bigger friends.

His escape attempt proved futile, however, when Tim threw an arm around Jon and tugged him closer. "We didn't invite you to drink with us just so you can sit there looking pretty, boss," he said.

"Wh—" Jon grunted affrontedly, brows furrowing. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and tried to blink through his drowsy alcohol-induced haze. "I really don't—"

"I said, Keira Knightley is the very definition of hot," Tim drawled. "Don't you agree?"

Confusion crossed over Jon's features. "I suppose so."

"You suppose so?" Tim scoffed. "Alright, alright. Maybe she isn't your type. How about Tessa Thompson?"

Jon let out a non-committal noise as he pressed the rim of his glass against his lips. When no liquid hit his tongue, he blinked and looked into the cup.

Empty.

"Lucy Liu?"

Jon lifted his glass and looked around dazedly. "Does anyone—"

"What about Lucy Liu?"

"I really don't— My glass is empty?"

"Oh, sorry. Got distracted," Martin said, rubbing the back of his neck and slowly sliding out of his chair. "It's my round."

"I, well, yes, that'd be—"

Tim barged in with another question. "Okay, then, what about Anna Kendrick?"

"Not really."

"Not really?!" Tim yelled. "Alright, what about—"

"For god's sake, Tim, stop asking me these questions!" Jon groaned. "I'm too bloody ace for this."

Martin blinked at him, eyes owlishly wide with curiosity. "What do you mean?" he asked in a half-squat above his chair.

Jon's initially liquor-tinged face blanched. Suddenly it was show-and-tell in Year 2 all over again, eyes fixated upon him, as he struggled not to cry from stage fright. Except the topic today was far less innocuous than 'My Favourite Animal'. He ran a hand over his face.

Jon wished he could time-travel two hours back to throttle himself for accepting Sasha's invitation to drink. He should have gone home and taken a good long nap.

Unfortunately for him, he was stuck in this crap-hill of a situation. Jon gulped, looking everywhere but at his friends, as he tried to push Tim away. The silence was suffocating and he was pressured to fill it. "Fuck. I didn't mean to…"

Sasha leaned across the table. "Wait, you said you're ace? As in asexual?"

"I… uh, yes?" Jon shrunk into himself. "So what?" he hissed defensively.

Hands shooting up defensively, Sasha shook her head. "Oh, it's not like that! I'm also—"

Tim interrupted her with a whoop so loud that Jon had to yank himself out of his chokehold lest his eardrums burst. Martin had to leap off his chair and cover a hand over Tim's mouth to stop the hollering. Even then, he still did a whole lot of muffled yelling. "We're in public, Tim!" Martin chastised.

Tim tried to pull Martin's hand off, but to no avail.

"I'll take it off if you promise to stop yelling."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. As soon as Martin let go of Tim, however, he flashed the smuggest smirk and said, "So archiving is a gays-only event."

Martin let out a groan and Jon frowned in confusion. "What?"

"We honestly thought all this while you were homophobic," Tim said. "But turns out you're one of us."

Sasha raised her hand. "Disclaimer: I didn't think you were homophobic. Just uptight."

"But I..." Jon muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Wait, so you're all gay?"

"Alright, fellas," Sasha said, clapping her hands. "From the top! I'm aromantic heterosexual."

Tim dramatically placed a hand upon his chest. "And I'm the neighbourhood Bi-con!"

Nervously, Martin said, "Uh, no labels. But not straight."

Invitingly, Sasha gestured towards Jon.

He blinked. "Oh. Uh. Panromantic asexual. Um, and also nonbinary."

"Niiice," Tim said, patting his back hard. "I can't believe we took this long to figure this all out."

"I don't like assuming," Jon admitted.

"But I thought we were being incredibly obvious. Well, me and Martin were at least. We just thought you never mentioned because you were ignoring all of it on purpose."

Jon hummed. He had caught Tim flirting with a couple dudes who came to the archives before. Somehow, however, he had never registered those incidents properly and the idea that Tim wasn't straight had sailed past him entirely. He felt a bit stupid, thinking back right now.

He tried to recall an instance for Martin but drew absolutely nothing, however. "Was Martin very obvious?"

"Oh!" Sasha wheezed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Martin here is–" she slapped his back "— painfully obvious."

"Huh," Jon muttered. "I really never noticed."

"You really should," Tim said. "Oh, right. Isn't it your turn to buy us a round, Martin? Do you want to get some right now? While we talk to Jon."

The flush that overtook Martin's face made his freckles darken as he resolutely sat in his seat, beside himself with distraught.

"Alright, alright. Enough teasing," Sasha said to Tim. "Martin, I promise I will keep him in his place so just get us the round already."

After Martin's eyes darted from Sasha to Tim to Jon, then back to Sasha, he shot up from his seat with a huff. "I trust you, okay?" Then, he made a beeline for the bartender.

"Am I missing something?" Jon asked. "I feel like I am."

Sasha shook her head. "We're just all feeling pretty excited is all. It's not every day the notorious Jonathan Sims would come out to people."

"Notorious?" Jon wrinkled his nose. "From what I'm gathering, I'm not very welcome in this archival team. First, I'm homophobic and now notorious."

"Hey," Tim said, "you can't blame me for thinking you might be a homophobe. You don't exactly give off queer vibes."

"Aspec people like us don't really get much opportunity to be overtly queer," Sasha muttered, leaning back. "We're a low-lying bunch."

"Hey! But I could tell that you weren't straight. But Jon flew right under my gay-dar. And I'm usually really good at detecting comrades."

"Time to send that radar for repairs then," Jon replied with a smirk.

"You're not much better!"

"I never claimed to be good at detecting comrades."

Just then, Martin came back, and Jon was pleased to finally get more alcohol. With how much he'd been blabbing already, it felt like that kind of night.

After a while, Jon's head started spinning in what felt like cartwheels and somersaults. Drowsily, he placed his head on the regrettably grimy table. He watched the other three's back-and-forth for a while before suddenly stepping in. "Why no labels?" he asked Martin. "Just curious."

"Hm?" He straightened up. "Oh. Just… not too fond of being put into labels. None of the terms ever sit quite right with me for some reason."

"Fair enough," Jon muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. "I took ages before finding what felt right for me."

"How did you realise you were ace then?" Tim asked.

"Don't know. Just sort of always knew but didn't have a word for it. So when the word asexuality came along…" He waved his hand as though to say, "And the rest was history."

"Is it not liking sex?" Sasha asked. "I personally never really got what's so good about romance. I think it's just messy stuff if you ask me."

"Sex is… It's fine?" Jon winced. "I don't hold any strong opinions on the matter although I do sometimes find it quite fascinating."

"Jesus Christ. It's sex, Jon. Not some academic discussion," Tim scoffed.

He pouted.

"Then, how did you figure it out?" Martin asked.

"Oh. I, uh… It just felt like there was something everyone else seemed to have no trouble getting that I couldn't. Turns out that thing was sexual attraction." He shrugged. His eyelids were growing rather heavy. "I quite like being ace, you know that? I've never told that to anyone else," he slurred the admission.

"Are you tired, Jon?" Martin asked.

"Mhm."

"Do you want to take a nap?"

He nodded, rubbing his face against the wooden table. Sasha ran her fingers through his hair and he hummed, eyelids sliding shut.

Jon remembered how frustrated he used to be when he was younger. Curious and stubborn since he could remember, there was no way he would let this thing he couldn't understand simply slide under the rug. He remembered thinking he might be pansexual, but that didn't sit right in his chest. It took years of hunting down a proper answer and a couple more to acknowledge it.

Sometimes, Jon would mourn over the fact that he would never understand what on earth this "sexual attraction" thing was. Most of the time, however, he found himself quite comfortable in his own skin, finally able to categorise his experience. Now, asexuality was a label he embraced.

And it felt good knowing there were people close by who accepted him.

#tma #magpod #the magnus archives #asexual jonathan sims #aromantic sasha james #bisexual tim #tma fanfic #non binary jonathan sims #panromantic jonathan sims #my writing #not sure how else to tag hmmm

12 notes · View notes

give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years

Text

Somebody Told Me

Written for @surathaniel for the @mcu-christmas-exchange

Title: Somebody Told Me

Rating: M

Creator: Ducky

Warnings: Alcoholism

Pair: Winteriron

Summary: Tony is in love with Bucky, but he thinks Bucky is way out of his league. Instead of asking him out, Tony opts to angst about it on the sidelines. Imagine if Bucky liked him back…

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356375

+++++++++

“I hate New Year’s Eve parties,” Tony grouses. “Like, what’s the point? This year sucked, and the next year is going to suck, too. It’s just how life works. I know T’Challa is your boyfriend and all, but do I really have to go?”

He’s sitting in a restaurant, eating lunch with his best friend. Rhodey has just told him about the party his boyfriend is throwing. T’Challa always throws excellent parties, but Tony is just feeling ornery today.

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “First of all, I know you’re only salty because you don’t think Bucky will kiss you at midnight. Second of all, yes, you have to come.”

“I hate you.” Tony doesn’t really hate Rhodey. Not even a little. What he does hate is just how right Rhodey is, as usual, when it comes to Tony. Not that Tony would ever admit that to him. It’s just not good for a man to get an ego.

Rhodey just smirks, so Tony throws his hands in the air. “Fine, I will show up at your party. And I will be serving looks. But don’t be surprised if I sit in the corner all night, getting drunk, and making you walk me home.”

“So, like every party we’ve attended?”

“I really hate you now.” Not really though.

+++++++

Tony does go to the party. And he is serving looks. Pepper had helped him pick out the right clothing, and then he had begged her to come with him. “Sharon is going to be there.” He’d said.

Now, Tony is sitting at a table with T’Challa, Rhodey, and Pepper. They’re having a conversation, but Tony’s eyes keep wandering over to where Bucky is standing.

Ah, Bucky. How can he describe Bucky? Tony first met him in college at a frat party. He had gotten super drunk, and Bucky had taken pity on him and walked him home. Disappointed at that time because he was hoping to get laid, Tony also admired that Bucky only helped him take his pants off and tucked him into bed before leaving . Seeing him around the campus, he had invited Bucky to small friend gatherings. Bucky then introduced Tony to his friends. Now, after everyone has graduated, they all like to get together at least once a month.

Tony always had a crush on Bucky, but he knew that the other man was just looking out for him. No one would ever like him once they had to take care of him when he was sloppy drunk. That’s why he and Rhodey never worked out. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if Bucky was even into guys. Tony had never seen Bucky with anybody outside of his friend group, and all of his friends were taken.

Now, Bucky is here with a beautiful redhead on his arm. Tony’s gay brain can see that she has all the curves in all the right places for the average straight man. Bucky’s eyes meet his briefly before he nods and looks away. Tony lays his head on the table. “Yeah, I’m drinking the night away again.” He moans.

The others look up, and seeing the woman with Bucky, they pat him on the back. “You don’t know. Maybe she’s his cousin or something.” Pepper tries to reason.

“Don’t give me false hope.” Tony throws back a shot. “You guys should go party. I’m going to sit in the corner and blend in.”

“Tones. You know you don’t have to….” Rhodey starts, but Tony cuts him off. “I told you I didn’t want to come. And I only came for the hopes that Bucky would notice me. But he just thinks I’m the disaster of the friend group, and I’m not going to let him down tonight.” Tony grins wildly and walks over to the bar.

Thor and Heimdall are manning the bar. Ugh. More couples. “Tony, my friend, how are you this fine night?” Thor asks.

“I am most decidedly not doing fine.” He announces. “Can you just give me a bottle of vodka? I want to drink away some pain.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot. We are under strict guidelines from Rhodey to make sure you get your drinks by the glass. He doesn’t want you sitting in the corner with no movement.” Heimdall speaks up. “So, what would you like?”

“Fill me a glass of vodka. I’ll drink it slowly.” Tony grumbles.

Heimdall pours his drink, and Tony heads over to the corner. Maybe he is being a child about this, but he doesn’t want to deal with the heartache. He knows that after tonight, he’ll be ok. Tony has had an unrequited crush on Bucky for three years; what’s another year or so? It doesn’t hurt if he doesn’t dwell on it.

Tony sits in the corner and watches. He watches as Sam and Steve do body shots on each other. Sharon and Maria Hill kiss while dancing. Wow, he didn’t notice that they were together. Must be a new thing. Carol and Maria Rambeau have gotten people to join them in the Cha-Cha Slide. Bucky and his girlfriend are walking over to Rhodey and them. Oh no, he must be introducing her. She shakes their hands. Bucky says something to her, and she throws back her head and laughs. Tony grips his glass tighter.

Throwing back another swallow, Tony revels in the burn. Why does everyone here have someone to love but him? When he looks back up, Bucky is no longer standing with Rhodey, T’Challa, and Pepper, but his girlfriend is. She and Pepper are in an animated conversation. Hmm, Bucky must be in the bathroom. He muses.

Tony focuses on the rug below him and sways to the loud music. His mind starts to drift off to designs and blueprints of the projects he is building. Vodka forgotten; Tony starts to trace his works into the long hair of the rug. He is only shaken out of his trance when Thor announces it is one minute until the new year. “Thanks Thor.” Tony murmurs and looks back down at the rug.

“Tony.” Is it? No, his mind is playing tricks on him. “Tony.” The voice persists, so Tony looks up. Bucky is standing there. Tony stands up.

“Oh, hi Bucky! Glad to see you could make it!” He grins.

Bucky looks around at the party. “Why are you in the corner? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You were?” Tony wants to slap himself for just how excited he sounded about that. “Sorry, I’m just not in a party mood. Look.” He points to his vodka. “I barely drank a glass.”

The crowd around them starts counting down. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“I was wondering!” Bucky shouts overtop of them. “Can I” “Five! Four! Three!” “kiss you at midnight?”

“Two. One!” “Yes!” As the crowd reaches one, Bucky leans in and kisses Tony. It felt like fireworks were going off. Also, fireworks were going off outside. Tony pulls away first, out of breath. Once his lungs are full of air again, he asks. “What about the redhead?”

“Nat? She’s a co-worker of mine, and a giant lesbian. I brought her in hopes that Pepper would be here. I’ve been trying to get them together for some time.”

“Oh.” Tony is silent for a minute. “And you like me?”

Embarrassed, Bucky rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ve liked you for a while, but I always thought you were way out of my league. Like, you’re wicked smart and insanely attractive, and I’m just… me. However, Rhodey and Pepper told me that if I asked you out tonight, I wouldn’t regret it. So, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you out earlier.”

“I thought you were out of my league! You’re too good for me. But now that you’ve basically asked me out, I’m going to say yes before you have a chance to think it over and change your mind.” Tony laughs.

The look of longing that Bucky sends his way stops him from making another self-deprecating joke. “I’ll never change my mind.” Bucky tells him.

Later that night, as they go to leave, Rhodey asks Tony. “So, how was your New Year’s Eve party?”

“Next year has potential!” Tony grins.

#winteriron #mcu-christmas-exchange #party #alcohol tw #misunderstandings

6 notes · View notes

spacecadetcity · 4 years

Text

is it gay to call a robot gorgeous? please respond.

word count: 2,167 prompt: #33. docs: (may be easier to read). sunny (oc)/sunstreaker

if sunny went back in time to about a year and a half ago and told himself that she was going to not only meet the giant robots he insisted existed, but that he would move in with them, and then also fall in love with one, his past self would not only believe him, but would also possibly explode.

“..which would of course start off a chain reaction of paradoxes- paradoxes? paradoxi? a chain reaction that would cause an endless loop where because i go back in time, past me explodes, which means that i don’t go back in time to tell myself, which means that i don’t explode, which means…”

“hey, sunstreaker. think your human broke. it just started rambling to itself.” a metallic voice called out, snapping sunny from his self-created trance. of course. he stared over at the bot that had spoken up, trying to recall the name.

red face, white helm- two little wings that poked out over his shoulders and helped increase speed in vehicle mode, mostly blue and gray. tracks?

“not my human, tracks. besides, you’re one to speak. how about that kid, raoul?” was the given response.

tracks huffed, “what, and let him waste his mechanical talents elsewhere? if the kid wants a mentor, i should say i am the best suited.” tracks stormed out of the rec room, and sunny snickered.

“what were you mumbling about anyway? more nonsense?” sunstreaker walked over to the counter where sunny stood, holding a hand out for the human to step on. sunny sat on the hand for a moment, taking care to toss her sneakers off and dump them in the backpack he carried around. the golden mech was notoriously picky about his appearance, and it had taken sunny less than a day to figure out the quickest way to gain sunstreakers favor was to make sure he would never dirty the bot.

she swapped his socks as well, and then carefully stood on the hand with fresh socks. he was rewarded with a small smile- just a quirk upwards, really- and sunny beamed.

“thinking about the eternal paradox that i’m guessing i escaped. where are we going?” sunny held on to a digit with one hand to keep his balance as the autobot left the room and headed down one of the halls. the other hand held tight to his red ‘visor’, special glasses that he never went without.

“outside. i’ve got no duties, and there was…” sunstreaker continued speaking, but sunny’s mind drifted as they made their way through the halls. though he had questioned the yellow-orange color for the ship originally, sunny found that it often reflected onto the bots paint. for sunstreaker, it turned his already beautiful golden-yellow paint into a metal sunset of orange and yellow.

a finger poked her in his side, breaking him of her thoughts.

“hey. sunstreaker to sunny. did you hear anything i said?”

sunny gazed up at the mech with a sheepish look on her face, “sorry. was thinking about how pretty it is when the orange reflects off your paint.”

sunstreaker stared at her for a few moments before starting to walk again, a low whirring in the background. it took a few minutes for sunny to realize that it was the mechs’ fans, and that he wasn’t walking just because he wanted to get out faster. sunny, a simple human, had flustered sunstreaker. an autobot. the prettiest autobot, though tracks would grumble and beg to differ.

quickly, sunny fished his phone from one of his pant pockets and opened the browser app up. she scrolled through the open tabs quickly until he found what he was looking for, quickly typing a message up and posting it before putting her phone away. they were almost outside, sunstreaker having stopped by the door to have a quick conversation with the night guard.

white-green face, green helm, had a big missile on the side, pretty sure he was a jeep. hound, sunny mused to himself, pretty sure this one was hound. he was distracted from their conversation by the buzzing of his phone. the notification was from the post he had made earlier, and he eagerly opened it back up.

>aliens dm me asked in cars & transportation 10 minutes ago:

is it gay to look at a giant robot walking in the halls of an orange ship and think that it's gorgeous how the orange reflects onto his yellow paint and becomes a moving sunset or..

>rt.66bossdriver replied 1 minute ago:

this is a thread about car paint jobs, please stop posting here. this is the fifth time. we will ban you next time.

sunny frowned, leaving a thumbs down on the answer and opened a messaging app instead. it opened into one of his most visited chat groups, but she spent no time in it, instead choosing to close it and scroll through his few direct contacts until he came across the one he wanted.

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:32 am

york my fucking heart is broken

york they’re going to ban me from the forum if i ask about being gay again :(

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:33 am

bro that is supremely unsexy. i will thumb down them. sending u bro kisses

sunnybunnyhoney is typing…

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:33 am

:pleading_face:

york i am asking skyfire to pick you up so we can double date

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:34 am

sunstreaker has a twin :flushed:

this base is full of single bots i promise you there is at least one dilf

there’s also a jeep who is a total nice dude in like

the cute college nature frat boy way

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:36 am

:flushed: :flushed:

love how u knew i would be up at three am <3 <3 <3

sunnybunnyhoney is typing…

sunnybunnyhoney today at 12:337am

bold of you to think i know time zones <3 <3 <3

oh fuck my beautiful sunstreaker is done talking to hound

hound is the nature frat boy i’ll slip him your number

gotta go <3 <3

newnewyorkyork is typing…

newnewyorkyork today at 12:39 am

you get yor fucking robot!!!

sending u sexy vibes!!!

sunny grinned at the last message, and quickly pulled his backpack off and dug around until she found what she was looking for- a king-sized marker and a large cardstock sketchbook. quickly, he scribbled yorks’ number down and folded the paper into a sloppy airplane, tossing it in hounds direction. as sunstreaker turned the corner, sunny caught a glimpse of hound holding the cardstock, looking confused.

“so what are we up to? a thrilling late night drive?” sunny asked as the two stepped away from the base, walking until the dirt road finally met with the pavement of a road that had been closed off to give the large bots some privacy and ensure they wouldn’t squish any stray humans.

“don’t move after i put you down. i don’t want any dirt or anything like that in my interior,” sunstreaker warned, laying his hand down flat so the human could carefully get off. the ground rumbled under sunny’s feet as sunstreaker took a few steps back and transformed, rolling up close so he could get in without having to walk.

sunny sat on the edge of the seat, carefully brushing her socks off before turning and sitting back in the seat, the door closing behind her and the seatbelt buckled her in. sunny disguised her amusement at the caution sunstreaker took by taking his special visor off for a moment, and using his shirt to pretend to clean them.

“are you gonna tell me where we’re off to yet? or is it a surprise?”

“it’s a surprise, so shut it. take a nap or something, we got about forty minutes of drive ahead of us, unless some cop gets pissy,” sunny could imagine sunstreaker rolling his eyes- his optics- in annoyance, “i’ll just say it’s some autobot business.”

sunstreaker fell silent after that, and the only sound between them was the ambience of the drive. it didn’t take long for the yellow lamborghini to rise above the speed limit, but the drive stayed smooth. sunny dozed off shortly after they started, waking up for a moment when sunstreaker jerked to the side and swore something under his breath. drowsily, sunny mumbled something about cybertronian sounding cool as fuck before he fell back into a light doze.

“we’re here, wake up,” sunny blinked awake to the sound of sunstreakers’ voice and rubbed his eyes. it was still dark out, though the area was illuminated by a set of tall street lamps. carefully putting her outside sneakers on, sunny stepped out of sunstreaker’s interior and looked around the small parking lot. it was empty apart from them, likely due to the time.

“we’ve got a short walk before we get where i want to be. stay close, i don’t want to have to hunt you down in the dark,” sunstreaker spoke moments before he transformed. sunny watched, transfixed as always, as the brilliantly yellow vehicle shifted and changed until he was standing at around twenty feet tall- almost three times sunnys’ size. without waiting for an answer, he started off to the side, following a path that sunny hadn’t realized was there.

she followed after him, not particularly bothered by his blunt demeanor. all it really meant was that sunstreaker didn’t want him wandering off and getting lost, at least not without the autobot having an idea of where she was. silently, the pair continued on the path until the forest started to thin out into an open field on a large hill

the scene was breath-taking. sunny could see the shape of mount hood farther off, lit up by the moonlight. it shone brightly down on the landscape below the hill as well, lighting up the pine trees that scattered around. the sky itself though, was almost indescribable. it looked so vast and deep that sunny truly felt small for a moment, caught up in the cold dots in the sky.

“come sit over here with me. hound was going on and on about this stargazing spot, thought maybe i’d like to take you,” sunstreaker had settled onto the grass nearby, and once sunny had come closer, the yellow bot lifted him onto his shoulder.

both were quiet for several more moments, faces turned upwards to see the sky. having grown up in new york, it always blew sunny away at just how many stars there were, or how the pictures that one would find on the internet weren’t always doctored. places with less light pollution just looked like that. sunny turned to make a comment to sunstreaker, and found his breath taken away yet again.

sunstreaker noticed him staring at him rather than the sky, and the autobot looked at him from the corner of his optic- sunny loved that work- silently asking what the human was looking at.

“s-sorry it’s just.. it’s like the moon has come at the perfect time to highlight your face just right- it starts at the tip of your nose and just brings all your other features out. it’s like…” sunny struggled with his words a moment, unsure of how to phrase it for a human let alone a robot from another planet, “it’s like your face is effortlessly working with the moon?”

it was silent between the two of them for a few moments, and sunny worried he had said something wrong, had upset the beautiful mech. instead, sunstreaker’s lip quirked upwards in a small smile, and he carefully brought up a finger to pat the human on the head.

“well, you don’t look so bad yourself, squish. trying to boost my ego even more with these compliments?” sunstreaker replied before turning his gaze back to the sky, sunny doing the same. they stayed there for a few more hours, until the sky started to lighten and the stars faded.

content with where he was, sunny had started to doze off. briefly, he woke to sunstreaker returning to his alt mode in the parking lot and coaxing the mostly asleep human into his interior. the ride back to base went by in a matter of seconds, and sunny only struggled back to wakefulness as sunstreaker carefully wrapped him up in a large blanket they kept for him.

“ go back to sleep, sweetspark,” there was a tenderness in his voice that sunny didn’t often hear, and he hummed sleepily in response. he rolled over in his wrap, and felt a large metal finger ghost along his side before retreating.

when he woke and asked if the mech had carefully placed a kiss on his face the next day, sunstreaker denied it, though the soft look in his eyes gave it away. it was a look reserved for sunny and sunny alone- not a look when any other mechs were around.

#taylor made this #no shame :).#don't be an ass though. don't like oc pairings with canon characters? just move on.

5 notes · View notes

sparklygoblin · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu battle of the bands!!! This is stupid but I'm a choir kid and I really love music so I had to imagine this one. I'm sorry this is really self indulgent but I dunno I hadn't seen it yet and I'm a sucker for mood music so yeah feel free to ignore this I get it.

TW: suicide, drugs and scary music ahead.

Tsukki, Yams, Hinata, and Kenma have a band that freaking destroys the indie grunge garage rock genre, they all grew up sad and messy. They sound a bit like mcafferty or the front bottoms and maybe cavetown when yams takes over more

Bottom-Mcafferty (yams and tsukki doing this one together is kind of so good)

Twins Size Matress-The Front Bottoms (I'm basic I know)

Lemon Boy-Cavetown (Ah if this ain't Yams about Tsukki)

Tsukki is a lead singer and nothing will change my mind, he can write and sing in that grunge way, it's hot. He's got a very cool detached vibe, and guys and girls alike are thirstin but none of them ever come to anything. He's got an eye for his little back up singer with the green hair

Yams is the back up singer, and also a base guitarist and he's kind of iconic, Tsukki has never needed anyone else, it's been him and Yams since they were kids, and it's been that way for a reason, Yams is almost a better lyricist than Tsukki

Hinata is their little guitarist and he's literally king of those jaw dropping garage rock guitar shreds at live shows and god he's really broken in this AU but he's still extremely sunny, he just has a lot of trauma in his past

Kenma hits the drums, and writes a lot of the lyrics, he can also sing very high harmonies, so he'll occasionally chip in on those

Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, and Kyoutani have a freaking sick rock band, like I'm talking guitar shreds, eyeliner, screaming vocals ahhhhh I love it so much. They're literally adored and they fall just on the edge of hard but not too hard. They sound a bit like Breaking Benjamin, Foo Fighters, and a little bit of Three Days Grace

Diary of Jane-Breaking Benjamin

Best of You-Foo Fighters

World So Cold-Three Days Grace

Kuroo is the lead singer, very mid 2000s rock sound, raspy screaming, deep lyrics, sad eyes and beautiful hair. Drinks a lot, everyone loves him but him, wishes he were dead like a lot.

Bokuto plays guitar and just wants his friend to be okay , he seems very strong spirited and happy on stage but he has a habit of making a complete turn, and struggles with bipolar disorder on his own

Iwaizumi is a silent, brooding guitarist and probably lowkey the hottest member of the whole band, he shreds and him and bokuto shred back and forth at live shows its crazy

Kyoutani is a drummer with heavy dark make up and terrifying eyes, he's the classic vision of rock and roll and god help him he has so many parents who h a t e him.

Asahi, Daichi, and Kiyoko are amazing. They vibe with a more indie pop sound, with soft piano chords and deep female vocals, reminiscent of Florence+the Machine, Of Monsters and Men, Vancouver Sleep Clinic, and Bon Iver.

Over the Love-Florence and the Machine (Imagining kiyoko with a voice like this is such a trip)

Dirty Paws-Of Monters and Men

Lung- Vancouver Sleep Clinic ( the anxiety in this song gives me Asahi vibes)

Blood Bank-Bon Iver (daichiiiiii)

None of them have set places in this group, they're extremely mutable and that's what makes them so special everyone loves that the vibes stay the same even though the voices are constantly switching

Oikawa, Yahaba, Hanamaki, and Mattsukawa are reminiscent of Harry Styles, One Republic, and Coldplay. They write slow sad alternative pop music to cry to bc Oikawa is an aesthetically pleasing sad boy.

Girl Crush Cover-Harry Styles (Oiks being gay and sad in a floral suit KILLS ME)

All Fall Down-One Republic

Violet Hill-Coldplay

Oikawa has an incredible voice that he didn't come by naturally, and the fact that he had to practice makes him all the more likeable. His stage presence is nuts, and he cries like a lot.

Yahaba is an adorable little keyboard player with soft eyes and a really nice harmony with Oikawa

Hanamaki strums soft sad strings

Mattsukawa keeps a steady melancholic beat

Suga, Noya, Tanaka, and Ennoshita are modern rock in a nutshell, and god do they know how to make you angry and heartbroken all at once. They release music in the vein of Badflower, Boston Manor, and The Plot in You.

24-Badflower

Halo-Boston Manor

The Plot in You- Feel Nothing

Suga is the lead singer and his on stage emotion is crazy he's an emotional wreck, practically screaming S A V E M E, he's obviously on a lot of substances and victim of crippling low self worth. He cries on really bad nights, his voice is incredible but he's losing himself to the heartbreak. Suga writes almost all of the lyrics.

Noya and Tanaka party all the time to cover up the fact that the both of them feel alone in rooms full of people, to hide the fact that they need saving too. Tanaka is guitar, Noya is drums.

Ennoshita is a guitarist as well, and he's probably the only one keeping all of his bandmates from dying. The pressure is a lot for him.

Yachi is an unhinged curveball, you'd think she sings cute pop songs, but nah, that girl is straight up nuts. Screaming, vulgar, chaos is how you'd describe her music. She's been repressed her who look e life and it SHOWS.

I Hate My Mom-GRLwood

Mumble rap is a controversial genre to say the least, but I can't deny that I love it and could see a few of the more spooky or apathetic volleyball boys partaking, especially Tendo and surprisingly, Kunimi. They'd sound somewhat like Ghostemane, $uicidBoy$, and Sueco the Child.

Nihil- Ghostemane (tendo style)

Sold my soul to satan waiting in line at the mall- $uicideBoy$ (together)

Novacane:)-Sueco the Child(Kunimi vibes)

Tendo is scary af which really lends itself to the whole terrifying music style and stage presence he has. His music is dark seductive dissonance as is he.

Kunimi has suffered in a constant state of pure apathy and sorrow his whole life, this lends itself to the whole $uicide theme he's got going.

62 notes · View notes

mizugachi · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I'm here as promised! Could you do 9 + 8 + 18 please? Thanks!!

@alphabees-writes

After I-don’t-know-how-long, it’s finally here! Thank you for prompting me this, I really enjoyed writing it.

I never did camping/summer camp in its classical form, so linguistic camp is what you get, something I actually know, I hope you’ll still enjoy it :)

_________________________

Camp!au + exes + “ this can’t be real. I feel like I’m having a fever dream. “

Read it on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331935

Kurt was counting the days. In a couple of days, he was flying to France, his dream country, for a three-weeks summer camp, studying this beautiful language and learning about the amazing French culture. He was going to be part of a French family, in Nice, on the French Riviera, and he just couldn’t wait. He had looked up pictures of the region: it was stunningly beautiful.

He had always wanted to go on a language study vacation and he had been saving up for two years for this, working extra shifts with his dad at the shop. Blaine, his boyfriend, had complained a bit about it, arguing that Kurt was putting their relationship aside. It was easy to say for him, his parents were loaded and could offer him whatever he wanted. Kurt’s dad couldn’t just take 2500$ out of his pocket.

His luggage was already packed and he had spent the last month reviewing his French lessons, watching French TV shows and movies and listening to French music. He was so ready for this.

____________________________

The first thing he heard when he landed at the airport was the sound of the cicadas. They were everywhere and it was deafening. But it was so south of France and exotic and he loved it already, his heart busting with excitement. He met the supervisors who told him and the kids who shared the same flight that other participants were to be expected on another flight in a few hours and, in the meantime, they would be taken to their host family. Kurt couldn’t wait to meet them.

His host family lived in a typical south of France house, with ocher roof and light-colored walls, on the hill overlooking the city. They were a middle-aged couple, Marie and Laurent, who had two children, Enzo and Léa, and were very friendly, welcoming Kurt warmly. Their house even had a swimming pool, something Kurt rarely saw in Ohio, with a splendid view on the Mediterranean Sea. Kurt thought he was living a dream.

The mother, Marie, told him he was going to share his bedroom with another boy in his study group and Kurt was both excited and anxious to meet him. What if he was a complete homophobe? Kurt wasn’t planning on divulging anything too personal but his bullying in high school when he wasn’t even out was still a fresh memory in his mind.

He didn’t have to wait for long. Laurent went to pick his roommate up at the airport and he came back forty minutes later, while Marie and the children were getting to know Kurt, asking him several questions, all in French. They spoke a bit of English but Kurt wanted his trip to be as immersive as possible and, he had to admit it, he took pride in his accent when Marie and the children complimented him on it. Laurent joined them on the terrace with the boy and Kurt froze when he saw him.

It was none other than Sebastian Smythe, his former show choir rival and ex-boyfriend.

He must have committed a horrible crime in his past life to have such bad karma. Out of all the participants in the camp and out of all the summer camps offered to young Americans, he had to be travelling with the same agency, at the same dates and to the same destination and have his ex as a roommate? Kurt wanted to cry. He might have been dating Blaine for a few months now, but he was not over Sebastian. Sebastian who was his first everything, his first boyfriend, his first love, his first heartbreak. Things with him had ended quite badly when Sebastian made it clear he wasn’t into long, exclusive and romantic relationship by cheating on him with some name-less guy he hooked up with at Scandals during their junior year. Kurt had since been trying to avoid him at all costs, even transferring back from Dalton to McKinley while Karofsky was still there. The heartbreak was too much and thank god for Rachel and Mercedes who were there to pick up his shattered heart.

He was as handsome as ever, all slender, tanned freckled skin and green eyes, in a striped short-sleeved polo shirt with a popped collar and chino beige shorts, and it made Kurt’s heart ache. Oh, he was so not over him.

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he stood still when he recognized Kurt as well, and awkwardness settled between them. Their host family must had sensed something, because everyone fell silent while Kurt and Sebastian entered a starring contest. It was Marie who broke the silence first after a few tensed seconds.

“Bienvenue, Sebastian!” she said, standing up from her chair to greet him. “Did you have a good trip?”

She went to give him la bise, kissing him in the air once on each cheek and pulling Sebastian out of his trance. Kurt had been taken aback by the familiarity of the gesture but Sebastian kissed Marie like he had made French greetings all his life — and he probably had, he lived in France for a few years, Kurt remembered, and he wondered suddenly why Sebastian would go on a French study vacation if he was already fluent.

After greeting the children, Sebastian went up to Kurt and smirked at him and, god helped him, Kurt wanted nothing more but to rip that smirk off his face.

“Hey, Kurt,” he said. “Long time no see.”

Kurt couldn’t process what he was saying in French and stared dumbfounded at him. No way he was going to spend three weeks of his dream vacation with his ex-boyfriend.

“This can’t be real. I feel like I’m having a fever dream,” he said, his voice shaky.

Sebastian’s smile only widened and Kurt didn’t understand how he could pretend to be so casual about their unexpected reunion. Laurent came up to them and tried to make small talk to break the awkwardness.

“Do you guys know each other?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Sebastian answered, still looking at Kurt with his everlasting smugness.

Kurt finally pulled himself together and shot his best bitch look to Sebastian, not wanting for him to see how much he wrecked him in the past — and still did today — even though he just spent the last minute looking at Sebastian incredulously.

“Yeah, we have a slight history, we went to the same high school at some point,” Kurt said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Well, that’s great!” Laurent said. “Your supervisors told us you have a group meeting at the beach tonight so that you could get to know the others traveling with you, but you two already know each other! You can share some high school memory!”

Kurt was certain he didn’t want to share some high school memory with Sebastian but didn’t say anything. His dream had suddenly turned into a nightmare. ____________________________

The supervisors had lit a portable barbecue on the beach and provided marshmallows for everyone. Kurt was a bit sad they were not allowed to light a bonfire on the beach but it made sense: causing a wildfire would be a terrible start for the holiday. They were thirty or so kids who decided to ditch the traditional summer camp for a more studious one, and Kurt made small talk with almost everyone, coming from all over the USA.

When he went up to the barbecue to roast his marshmallows, Sebastian chose this moment to talk to him. Kurt had tried to ignore him as best as he could back at the house, given the fact that they were going to share a room for three weeks, but Sebastian was intended on speaking with him.

“You won’t be able to avoid me for the whole trip, Kurt,” he said, roasting his marshmallows next to him.

“What are you even doing here, Sebastian?” he snapped, refusing to look at him. “You are fluent in French.”

“My mom wanted me to do something for the summer before college,” Sebastian answered. “And since sleeping in a tent with no bathroom and doing outdoors stuff is not my cup of tea, I thought, why not go back to France? Nice has awesome gay clubs and they allow you to drink at 18. Wanna come?”

“No, thanks,” Kurt said though gritted teeth.

He didn’t need to see his ex-boyfriend hitting on some handsome French boys. Clearly, unlike him, Sebastian had closure on their relationship.

“Your loss,” Sebastian smirked. “Though I have to admit, I’m quite sad we ended it up last year. You aged like a fine wine. Makes me wonder why I ended it. Heard you’re with Blaine now.”

He had only said five sentences to Kurt since they met again and, yet, he was already on his nerves. Kurt lost it and turned to him, his eyes glazing with anger.

“I ended it because you are a selfish little bitch who thinks with his dick!” he shouted, not caring if someone might hear him. “How could you do that to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” Sebastian said, and he didn’t seem sorry in the least. “But you knew what you were getting into with me. I don’t do romance, remember? I want to know what the world has to offer before I settle.”

“You didn’t have to rub it in my face! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall in love with you!” Kurt spat.

His confession stopped Sebastian dead in his tracks and he looked at Kurt like he was seeing him for the first time.

“W-what?” he stuttered. “You were in love with me?”

“Like you didn’t know! You’re such an ass, you know that? You haven’t changed a bit, you’re still as irritating, selfish and obnoxious as ever!”

Kurt shot him his best glare but his expression softened when he saw the look of utter shock on Sebastian’s face. He really looked like he was clueless about Kurt’s feelings for him and too caught out by his confession to snark back at him. Kurt prided himself on being able to make Sebastian Smythe shut up every now and then.

“Seriously, Kurt. I didn’t know,” he said, astonished.

“Well, that wouldn’t have changed anything, right?” Kurt mumbled, anger leaving his voice. “Your cold heart wouldn’t care.”

Sebastian seemed hurt, but he didn’t say anything. Kurt huffed and took his marshmallow stick and went off, leaving Sebastian alone by the fire. He rejoined two girls he sympathized with and sat next to them, staring at the sea to forget about Sebastian.

It was going to be a long vacation.

#kurtbastian #writing #me #otp: i call him mine #prompted #alphabees-writes #camp!au #exes #i don't know how to post long stuff on tumblr

24 notes · View notes

talesfromthesnogbox · 4 years

Text

Stuck Here With you

Rating: M (Rating for explicit conversations about sex)

Words: 3,586

Summary: Richie and Eddie are stuck quarantining themselves together... what could possibly go wrong? OR based on this tweet: "@cjkasulke: APPARENTLY you have all just been *waiting* for this moment to confess your love to your roommates, so many of you live with people you have been silently in love with for y e a r s"

Notes: This is so stupid. Yes, I wrote a quarantine fic. Yes, this whole thing is a serious matter and I am an adult who's working from home and it all sucks, and there are people dying all over the world, and I do care, but I just thought people needed a little bit of a laugh, ya know? Anyways, this is wildly out of character and not good in general, but drop a comment if you like it, or if you think I'm a horrible person, whateves.

AO3

*~*~*~*~*

Richie woke from his catnap with a startled jump as he heard the front door slam shut.

“Jesus Eds, is it 6:30 already? Did I sleep all day?” He asked with a laugh.

“No asshole, it’s noon.” Eddie slammed his briefcase on the breakfast bar and worked his tie open. “This pandemic bullshit has gotten out of control.”

“Is that why you’re home right now…”

“Yes! Jared that fucking lunatic went off and brought some girl home last weekend and now he’s got a fever, so we were all sent home, and I’m stuck in isolation.”

Eddie was pissed, but Richie could see through his thinly veiled layer of anger; there was fear.

“Oh. Do you hang around Jared a lot at work?”

He sighed. “No, no I don’t, but it’s just a precaution until he can get tested properly.”

“That’s good then, right?”

It was good. After seven full days, Eddie finally emerged from his room with a cheery smile. “Jared’s in the clear, turns out he just picked up some STD, and I get to go back into work tomorrow.” He plopped down on the couch.

“That’s great Eds, but I hate to break it to you…” Richie pointed towards the TV where the headline read “California officially shut down”.

The first few days felt like any weekend would. They had extra groceries delivered, they binged some true crime documentary on Netflix, they had a group Skype session with the Losers, they did pretty much anything that took their minds off the current situation. But then the fifth day hit.

It was only 7am when Richie dragged himself out of bed for a coffee. Sure it was early, and he had nowhere to be, but time meant nothing anymore.

Usually Richie’s clamoring about the kitchen woke Eddie up. The first few nights that Eddie moved in after Derry were rough; turns out, Eddie was a pretty light sleeper, and Richie was loud. But today, there was no Eddie in sight.

He continued on his way, pouring himself a bowl of cereal when he saw it through the window to his backyard… and promptly spilled milk all over the counter.

On the bright side, Richie had found Eddie. The only downfall was he’d found him in a pair of tiny running shorts and a tank top doing squats on his deck.

“Fuck!” Richie swore, grabbing a tea towel to clean up the mess he’d made.

“Richie?” Eddie stopped his squats and ran into the house. “What the fuck happened dickwad?”

“N-nothing, nothing happened, it’s just early and I lost my grip.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“So um… what’s happening in the backyard there, Jillian Michaels?” Richie giggled.

“Fuck off. I usually go to the gym before work, but now that the gym’s closed, I had to improvise.”

“Ahh, I see, trying to pick up the new future Mrs. K with…” with thighs I want to wear as earmuffs and that tight ass? He was glad there was an entire counter between them to hide the fact that he was currently at half-mast.

Eddie gave him a strange look and shook his head. “Shut the fuck up. I’m a divorced 40-year-old living with his best friend, I don’t think I’m going to be picking someone up that easily at the gym. Besides, Santa Monica women aren’t really my type…”

“Oh? Well when this is all over, I know a few places we can go pick up chicks. West Hollywood, Beverly Hills, hell even Studio City. Name your type Eds, we’ll find her.”

“Aren’t you gay? How do you know so much about picking up women?”

“Closet case my boy.” Richie winked and took a bite of his cereal. “I’m as good of an actor as I am a comedian.”

“No wonder there were never any articles about how much of a playboy you were then.” Eddie said straight-faced, walking back out to finish his work out.

“Eds gets off a good one!”

*~*~*~*~*

After that eventful morning, Richie tried his hardest to stay in bed until after Eddie’s morning routine was done. One almost-embarrassing situation in his pants was enough to last a lifetime around his best friend of however-many years, he did not need it to escalate from there.

As the days passed on, the two of them found ways to entertain themselves. Eddie took to reading on the deck in the mild April weather, and Richie decided to pick up his guitar again for the first time in years.

He was a little rusty, but after a few hours of practice, it was like riding a bike, and before he knew it, he was back playing the tune he’d spent hours playing as a teenager.

Richie hummed along to the tune of “Eddie My Love” as his fingers formed the familiar chords with ease. He didn’t even realize Eddie walking in from the backyard, a stunned look on his face.

“Rich?” He jumped, startled at the sound of the other man.

“Hey Eds, sorry was I being loud?”

“N-no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know you played.”

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, I picked it up in high school after Went agreed to teach me a bit. I was in a band in college, but we kinda sucked.”

Eddie scoffed. “You don’t suck, that tune is lovely. What is it?”

Richie’s face felt hot all the sudden. “Uhh, I can’t really remember the name, just something I used to play a bunch. It’s an oldie my mom really liked.”

“Can you teach me?”

His eyes widened. “Y-yeah, here, come sit.” He moved more away from the body and more towards the neck of his acoustic, allowing Eddie to sit nestled between his folded legs. “Okay, um so you hold it like this, and your fingers go here.” Richie curled Eddie’s fingers around the neck of the guitar, placing them in the correct spots on the frets. “So we start with a G chord.” His other arm snaked around Eddie’s shoulder to show him how to strum the chord.

Eddie shivered, completely engulfed by his best friend, noticing for the first time how much he loved his arms being wrapped around him like this.

“Then we move to an E minor.” Richie shifted Eddie’s fingers again and strummed. “Then A minor, and up to D.”

Eddie moved his fingers, pliant beneath Richie’s big hand. His heart beat fast, and he could feel Richie’s breath warm on his shoulder as he played.

For a moment, Eddie could convince himself that Richie felt the same way about him, but only for a moment. They were best friends, and just because Richie was gay, it didn’t mean he was interested in Eddie, no matter how hard he wished that he was. He would never have Richie, but he’d always have this moment.

*~*~*~*~*

“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting drunk.” Richie pulled out a rather large bottle of vodka and a few other spirits. “I’m mixing you up a quarantini.”

“A what now?”

“Quarantini, Eds. We’re getting shitfaced.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Rich, there’s no way in hell I’d—” he paused. Maybe this was the perfect way to come on to Richie. Lowered inhibitions were a great excuse to do something potentially stupid, and if it all went sour, he could blame it on the alcohol. “You know what, fuck it. Mix me a quarantini.”

“That’s the spirit!” He mixed the drinks and dragged Eddie over to the couch. “Alright, we’re indulging tonight. I want not a peep from you. I never got to do any of this gay shit before, and now is the perfect excuse to start a new series. We’re watching RuPaul’s Drag Race.”

Eddie nodded his head. “Drag racing, okay cool, I like cars.”

Richie burst out laughing. “No asshole, drag race… like drag queens.” He popped on a random season and hit play.

Four episodes and many quarantinis later, both Eddie and Richie were yelling at the TV.

“How could they send April home, she’s like the hottest one there!” Eddie put his hands up.

“Right? Look at how hot he is ugh I just wanna…” Eddie glanced over at Richie with a smirk. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I see it.” He pulled out his phone, April’s instagram profile already loaded. “The scruff is driving me mental.”

Richie chuckled. “Eds, that sounds kinda gay.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Eddie said, face heating up. “Um, surprise?”

“Oh… shit dude, yeah, um, congratulations. Thanks for telling me.” Richie brought his friend into a tight hug, the alcohol running through his system making him feel a little light headed.

“Thanks for being cool about it.” Eddie mumbled, pulling away a bit, but still resting within Richie’s grasp.

“Hey man, I get it… I’m a closet case too.” He laughed.

The two were silent for a moment, content in each other’s grasp, until Eddie couldn’t handle the silence anymore. “Come on, next episode. I hope Laganja gets booted, I can’t stand her.”

Many episodes and quarantinis later, Eddie was fully shitfaced.

“Come on, bedtime for Eds.”

Eddie giggled. “Yeah Rich, take me to bed.” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that made Richie’s heart stutter.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough from you.” Richie deposited Eddie onto the bed, helping him with his shirt, when Eddie pulled him down hard.

“Oops, sorry Rich.” He giggled. “’s not my fault, you’re trying to get me out of my clothessss.”

“You’re wearing jeans, I can’t let you go to bed in jeans Eddie. What kind of asshole wears jeans in quarantine.” Richie giggles, undoing Eddie’s zip and pulling his jeans down his hairless legs. Fuck, his legs are amazing. “Eds, do you wax?” Richie giggled, rubbing a hand up his thigh.

“Pffftt, we’re in isolation shithead, I haven’t been to my wax girl in weeks.”

A jubilant laugh bubbled from Richie’s chest. “Shit, I’ve learned more about you tonight than I have in all the years I’ve known you. You really are a twunk.”

“A what now?”

Richie planted himself down on the bed beside Eddie. “Twunk, hunky twink.”

A look of realization dawned on Eddie. “Ohhhh, that makes a lot of sense. The dude at the checkout told me I was a twunk when I went to buy those underwear without the butt.”

Richie’s brain went blank. “Eddie, do you wear thongs?”

“No asshole, the other thing without the butt. Jock something, I can’t remember.”

“A jockstrap? Eddie are you trying to kill me right now?”

“Shut the fuck up asshole! They’re good for working out in. And they don’t give me lines in my nice suit pants.” Richie was speechless. “So if I’m a twunk, what are you?”

“I—I—I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh.” Eddie said sounding dejected. “O-or we could just hang out?”

Richie was at an impasse. He knew they were walking a thin line right now, and he shouldn’t stay, but he wanted to see where this would take him, he didn’t want to leave Eddie’s side.

“I think I could hang out for a bit.”

Their “hanging out” didn’t last very long. Within ten minutes, the two men were out cold.

Richie woke up first the next morning and left the soundly sleeping Eddie to go make a pot of coffee. His head was pounding, and as much as he knew the bright sunlight was going to burn his eyes, the fresh air couldn’t hurt.

He’d never been more thankful for his manager who also happened to be a fantastic decorator. The outdoor couch may have seemed stupid to him when he first bought the place, but at times like this, it was a great choice. He could relax, and look out towards the ocean, and forget everything that happened the night before.

That is until Eddie decided to join him.

Richie’s breath left his lungs once he got a good look at his friend. It was like a blast from the past seeing him in a pair of tiny red running shorts, much like those he wore when he was a kid, but now… now they were so much more. Richie’s mouth watered when his eyes caught a good look at how Eddie’s ass filled out the shorts. A large tank top donned his torso, one that Richie had been gifted, and definitely not been too comfortable wearing himself judging by how low cut the arm holes were. He looked hot, not that he wasn’t always attracted to Eddie, but this felt like something had changed, a sexual awakening of sorts, and Richie would never look at his friend the same way.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungover.” Eddie complained as he sat beside Richie. “That stupid drink went down like water.”

“Yeah man I hear you, I feel like shit.”

“I had fun though, it’s been a long time since I’ve had that much fun.”

Richie looked over to him. “No regrets about spilling your guts then?”

Eddie winced. “Okay, maybe you didn’t have to hear about what kind of underwear I prefer.”

Richie burst out laughing. “No, I definitely appreciated that tidbit of information, Eds. I’m proud that my twunk theory was right.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward.” Richie mumbled to himself.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“N-nothing.” He said, darting inside. “Going to work on my new show, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Richie had to get out of there. Last night was a lot, sure, but something felt different today. Seeing Eddie in his boxer briefs felt almost safer than whatever the hell he was wearing today. It’s almost like… almost like he’d purposely dressed up for Richie, and it was killing him. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he combusted.

Unfortunately for Richie, this new look seemed to be Eddie’s new uniform. Richie could tell that now Eddie was out to him, he felt more comfortable being himself, but Richie hated every second of it.

He dreaded seeing Eddie in the morning, dreaded knowing what fresh hell lay beyond his bedroom door in the form of a 5’9 firey bundle of sex personified.

Nearly a month into their quarantine, it was finally warm enough for Richie to sit out by the pool. He donned the brightest swim trunks he could find and rubbed his pale skin down with sunscreen, soaking up some vitamin D.

He’d been out there for just under an hour when he heard (and felt) a splash from the pool where Eddie jumped in.

“Okay, I take back everything bad I ever said about you having a pool when the ocean is right there. The pool is definitely more relaxing than the beach.”

Richie giggled. “I told you, asshole.”

“Oh, and I totally figured out what you are now. If I’m a twunk, you’re an otter.”

“A what now?” Richie removed his sunglasses and moved to sit on the edge of the pool.

“An otter.” Eddie rested his elbows on Richie’s thighs as his calves framed his torso. “At least that’s what I think. It’s like a softer bear. You’re not quite as big and not enough hair to be a bear, and you’re still too thin to be a cub, so you’re an otter.”

“I understood exactly none of what you said except for ‘bear’. I met a bear on Grindr just before Derry that made me realize I like being the bigger body in bed.” Richie winked saucily.

“So you’re a top then Trashmouth?”

Richie’s brows rose into his hairline. “I—I—we are not talking about this right now, not when you’re this close to my dick.”

“Oh come on, you used to talk about your dick all the time.”

“Yeah, I was a closeted kid who’s balls hadn’t dropped yet, obviously I wanted to come off as heterosexual as I could.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, good point.”

The two sat in the same position for a few minutes, exchanging no words between them. It felt intimate, it felt like Eddie was flirting with him, but he’d never been good at picking up signs. Could Eddie want this too?

“I am though.” He said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

“You’re what?”

Richie’s heart thudded in his chest. “A top, I guess. I don’t mind bottoming, I like it, but I guess I just…”

Eddie grinned. “You like being in charge?”

“No, fuck no.” Richie laughed.

“Really? Huh, okay.” Eddie nodded, mostly to himself.

“Hey, what the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing at all Tozier.” Eddie pushed off of Richie’s legs and floated on his back towards the inflatable lounger.

*~*~*~*~*

The week that followed was agonizing. All Eddie wore was those stupid shorts and a variation of t-shirt/tank-top/fucking crop top, and it was driving Richie mental. He felt like a teenager again, he’d never had so many hard-ons in one week in his life.

It was only a matter of time before Richie snapped.

Richie was descending the stairs from his room one fateful morning and groaned rather loudly when he saw what was waiting for him.

The shorts seemed shorter, tighter on his ass (damn all those squats he does) and his already short shirt seemed to rise up, showing the lovely dimples on his lower back as he reached for a bowl from a high shelf.

“Hey Rich, can you help me… what’s wrong?”

He huffed out a laugh. “What’s wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wh—did I do something?”

Richie stared at Eddie in disbelief. “Did you… did you do someth—the shorts man, what’s with the shorts!”

“The shorts? I always wear the shorts.”

“I fucking know you always wear the shorts, that’s the problem!” Richie’s stomach rolled. He thought he was going to throw up, he’d never been this candid about his feelings in his life.

“You have a problem with the way I dress? Fuck you, dude.”

“Fuck me yourself you coward!”

Both men fell silent. The tension could be cut with a knife, it was so thick between them.

“Richie?”

“Fuck man, I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that, I just don’t know if I can take this anymore. We’ve been cooped up for a month and I swear I’ve done more jacking off in the last month than I ever did as a teenager.” As good as it felt to spill his guts, he definitely thought he was going to pass out any second.

“I—I don’t…”

“The worst part is, it’s not even just that I’m horny. It’s you! Shit man, I’ve been dreaming of you since we were fucking teenagers. And now… now here you are looking like a goddamn… a goddamn what’s the word… a goddamn snack, telling me shit about the sexy underwear you buy, and asking me if I’m a top. Eddie, I don’t know if you’re flirting with me or not, but Jesus fucking Christ, it’s taking every single fiber of my willpower to not rip your clothes off right now.”

Eddie held back a smile. “Wait, I’m sorry, what? You couldn’t tell I was flirting with you? Are you fucking blind? Actually don’t answer that, I know you’re fucking blind.”

Richie was sure he was gonna get a nosebleed any second. “S-so you were flirting with me?”

Eddie laughed out loud. “Yes you idiot! Literally since the moment I got here, I have been flirting with you. You didn’t get the hint that I have feelings for you?”

“What the fuck, no man! Like you said, I’m fucking blind. I thought you were straight until a few weeks ago!”

Eddie moved to lean against the island, closer to Richie. “You dumbass, I tried so hard the night I came out to you, why do you think I told you about what fucking underwear I wear?”

“I don’t know man, I’m not good at this shit.”

“Clearly!”

Richie cast his eyes down. “S-so, so you really like me?”

Eddie reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers. He pulled Richie closer to him, so he was pinned between Richie and the island. “I love you, dickwad.”

Richie huffed out a laugh. “I love you too.” He blinked rapidly, looking up towards the light. “Oh god, why am I crying.”

“Get over here you big baby.” Eddie detangled his fingers from Richie’s and brought his hand up to the other man’s cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. It was sweet, it was chaste, it was everything Richie wanted from Eddie when they were younger.

But he wasn’t a teenager, and he wanted more.

He dove forward, tongue clashing with Eddie’s. It was hot, it was toe curling good. He snaked his other hand down Eddie’s side, curling around his hip and moving to squeeze his ass. Eddie groaned and ground himself into Richie’s thigh.

“Fuck.” Richie said pulling away. “Fuck, how are you so hot? We’re fucking forty man.”

“Me? Dude, look at you. Your arms… your chest…” Eddie snaked his hand under Richie’s shirt, scratching at the smattering of hair on his pecs.

“Jesus man, I’m not gonna last… fuck… bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

*~*~*~*~*

The two men finally emerged from Richie’s bedroom for dinner later on with kiss bruised lips and satisfaction plastered on their faces.

“Anything good on?” Eddie asked as Richie turned on the TV. “Rich?”

Richie laughed. “You better come see this.”

“QUARANTINE LIFTED” The headline read as news anchors happily recounted the fall in new cases, and the rise in recoveries.

“You’re fucking joking.”

#reddie #reddie fic #Richie x Eddie #it fic #yup this is so stupid #yet here I am posting it #my writing

42 notes · View notes

faemytho · 5 years

Text

i once plot dumped an entire "how would errink get together" thing in discord so im gonna post it here after like. a year lmao

ink doesnt "create" universes, we do, so error doesn't really have a reason to actively seek ink out and destroy him

he figures he'll kill ink when he gets around to it but DAMN is he annoying

yknow

until he catches ink laughing at a genocide run in a fellswapverse or something

and suddenly ink is intriguing. very intriguing

ink notices that error's destruction of universes has slowed down, and then one day, error joins ink in spectating a genocide run in another universe and they hang out and it's great; ink insults him and he insults ink back, but it's almost friendly, and they both kinda like it

so they do it again. they keep meeting up and by now error's destruction has almost completely stopped because he’s focused on “More Important Things”

and they become closer and closer until they can just literally speak their minds without being on edge or so tense around each other

(also during this period ink has learned of Error's haphephobia and is respectfully keeping his distance)

but one day error reaches over and punches ink's shoulder in playful banter and ink realizes that error's gotten comfortable with him, so they start getting a little more touchy-feely with each other - brushing shoulders, flicking each other's foreheads, patting each other's backs when they're venting to each other

until one day error reaches over and grabs ink's hand, and interlaces their fingers together AND NEITHER OF THEM FUCKING NOTICE OR CARE BECAUSE THEY ARE T H A T COMFORTABLE WITH EACH OTHER

and so one day, error has a really fucken shitty day. voices screaming louder than they have in a year (when he and ink started hanging out) and he crashed too so he goes to ink and just lets it all out. and ink doesn't say anything

he just turns error towards him and pulls him into a hug

(he only does this because he actually has no fucken idea what to say other than "shit sorry man lmao")

and error just starts crying silently and ink's hugging him and error gets hit with the gay frisbee "congrats, you're gay"

but no error doesn't tell ink right away, error lets it sit, until he literally can't hold himself back bc hes an impulsive man baby

so one day, while they're talking, error blurts it out like "I think I should tell you something" and then proceeds to tell ink he's gay for him and has been for a while

ink stares at him, and he slowly goes "you do realize I don't have a soul, right" and error isn't flustered or embarrassed actually, he's saying all this calmly, like how you would talk about a normal day or some shit

like "hey, I made pasta for dinner tonight, that okay with you?" except its "hey, ink im probably in love with you, that okay with you?"

so anyways

ink goes "dude I dont have a soul" and error goes "yah I know just thought you should know im gay for you and shit - anyways, have you caught up on undernovella yet?"

"yeah I have, fucken finale is dead to me - also hey, im down to date you or whatever"

and so error goes "yo fuck that'd be cool but why" and ink shrugs

"idk you're pretty cool i mean, I wouldn't have let you hang around with me unless I didn't think you weren't. also, you're literally my best friend. im cool with whatever man"

and error shrugs too

"aight cool. i'd love to date you too"

so now they're dating

bUT their first kiss doesn't happen until a year the fuck later

their first kiss happens literally the fuck outta nowhere but they dont even notice it happened until like five minutes later bc theyre so close and comfortable with each other

and then ink jokingly says some sappy shit like "hurrdurr ur the only star I'm interested in seeing"

theyre probably in a fucken outertale or some shit bc thats the go-to au

for romantic shit and they probably cuddling up on a hill in stardin forest starwatching

and error cackles and rolls his eyes and leans up and kisses ink right on the mouth

and when he pulls away he goes "the stars in your eyes are the only ones I can ever see"

and they go back to cuddling and shit and then like five minutes later

"ink did I just kiss you?"

"idk, do it again I missed it"

"k"

#sanscest #errink #error sans #errorink #ink sans #my writing #fae's headcanons #utmv #mae writes utmv

253 notes · View notes

theropoda · 4 years

Note

3, 4, 6-8, 11, 13-17, 19-22, 26-30 uwu

WOO LAD THAT’S A LOT THANK U!!! this got long and i wrote an essay or two LOL so im putting it under a readmore!

3: Best game you’ve ever played? WEEEELLLL.......let me preface this with two things: one, i am a FAKE GAMER as in my laptop is not at all made for gaming, it’s piss poor, so a big chunk of games i’m interested in is because i watched a playthrough of them lol. i have a 3ds but only 3 games on it (animal crossing new leaf, tomodachi life, nintedogs & cats). second, i’m very bad at choosing favorites of things.....BUUUUT .....i choooooose, in no particular order, OFF, pigeonetics, elder scrolls oblivion, pathologic classic HD!! i’m more than likely forgetting a few though, so sorry about that

4: Worst game you’ve ever played? as i said above, cannot choose favorites, neither can i choose whatever the opposite of favorites is but...uhh, does lif even count as a game? like lif, the stupid little furry flash game i remember playing on some shady website. it was surprisingly very active with a BUNCH of people there but i kept dying like every 5 seconds....AWFUL

6: A game that’s changed you the most? WELL define Changed.....ummm aha first thing that comes to mind is OFF. it’s one of those things where you never knew you wanted something so fucking bad until you saw it--and it’s like that for me. i NEVER knew i loved that odd, surreal, colorful, “looks playful and simple in some parts but incredibly violent and unnerving in other parts” aesthetic til i played it. like aesthetically i love that game to BITS and something about it just stuck with me til the end of time.

later in life (meaning, past year or so) it changed me because it taught me a lesson about storytelling and creative endeavors. a very useful lesson. which is: things don’t really need to have a meaning. stories, art, music, writing, whatnot, while it CAN be deep and meaningful, while you CAN use it as a way to communicate with the world about all kinds of heartfelt things, it can also be...nothing, really.

once i, as usual, got ridiculously overwhelmingly sad about small things. specifically seeing other people around me come up with all kinds of deep and meaningful characters and stories, sometimes putting them into webcomics or writings of theirs, and they were all so well-thought out and detailed and what i envied most was people put a lot of themselves and their experiences into them, venting and coping through them, whilst also making these larger-than-life grandiose complex stories and worlds and so on and so forth.

it made me look at my own ideas and get mad/frustrated at how shallow they were. but then i remembered OFF and i felt better because Fun Fact, mortis ghost has a now-abandoned dA account and if you go through the comment section on his profile, he answers a lot of fan questions and he mentions several times that the game didn’t really have a “meaning”, it didn’t really have a “deeper story” or moral or anything, really. i’m paraphrasing this but i vividly remember him saying “i wanted to make a game, so i did”.

that made me feel a lot better because it made me realise that sometimes art--especially stories, in my case-- doesn’t NEED to be DEEP or have MEANING...sometimes it can just BE!!!! sometimes it really can just be all about AESTHETICS like who GIVES a shit if there’s a hidden meaning if you take the first letter of all of your characters’ names and put them backwards, sometimes all that matters is if they just VIBE with you y’know....

yume nikki is similar in this regard bc that game doesn’t have any story other than “collect egg” and yet it’s so impactful. that game doesn’t have a story or meaning it just IS........ :) GOD THATS SO LONG IM SORRY ABOUT THAT but yeah. funny violent ghostbusting baseball man is a game that changed me :)

7: A game you’ll never forget? OFF AGAIN LOL,,, it’s just so memorable because of how unique it is. visuals, soundtrack, story, everything is so memorable. unforgettable. oh god you can tell how much i love this damn game can’t you

8: Best soundtrack? yakuza 0, OFF, there is a picture (another game by mortis ghost, again composed by alias conrad coldwood who also composed OFF), pigeonetics (the entire soundtrack of which is here), jojo’s bizarre adventure all star battle and eyes of heaven, silent hill 2 & 3, undertale....probably forgetting more but all of these...earcandy

11: Hardest game you’ve played? i am a shitty gamer so this is Most games i’ve played lol!! but uhh..well you see. hardest game i remember playing as of recent is pathologic classic hd in which it’s...not only hard to understand what any character is saying at any given time lol but also, i don’t think it’s HARD it’s just...you need to focus. you REALLY need to fucking focus and pay attention in this game. so i wouldn’t say its HARD, but i’m only putting this here bc it’s in recent memory.

i say recent memory because the true answer is susceptible to “yeah, but now you’re older, it must not be so hard.” as in if i played it now i think i’d have a way easier time. but when i was around....10-12 years old i had several ps3 video game adaptations of animated movies and i had SUCH a fucking hard time with them. g-force, bolt and up in particular were fucking HARD. like genuinely, the hardest time i had EVER had in my live playing video games is tied to these three fucking games. g-force and bolt ESPECIALLY. one particular level in bolt took both me AND my sister around a year to fucking finish.

again, i was baby, so i bet i’d have a much easier time with them now that i’m 17. but for now, in my experience, bolt and g-force for the ps3 were harder than pathologic classic. i think icepick lodge should take a few notes for them for pathologic 2.

13: A game you were the most excited for when it wasn’t released yet? STREETS OF KAMUROCHO...i spent the entire day of its release anticipating its launch lol

14: A game you think would be cool if it had voice acting? hmm..most games i like and know about do have voice acting so i dunno....i guess it would’ve been kind of cool if morrowind had like, full proper voice acting. but i can understand why it only voice acted things like greetings and battle insults because GOD that game is SO...complicated...and as a result, the conversations are so lengthy and text-full. playing morrowind is really like a goddamn book! if it was voice acted i’m sure all that information would have to be shortened bc i know no one is going to fucking voice act two whole paragraphs

15: Which two games do you think would make an awesome crossover? pigeonetics and yakuza in which instead of being about the criminal underworld it’s about shady and unethical pigeon clubs, breeding, racing, etc etc...a lot of illegal shit does happen in the world of pigeons especially when it comes to racing; prized racers have been kidnapped and held for ransom before. and then there’s Avian Cucking: The Sport, where people breed the sexiest pigeons (horseman thief pouters), release them outside to seduce other people’s sexy pigeons, and bring them back and keep ‘em, drama ensues. will kiryu ever escape his past as a professional pigeon-napper, and find solace in his new life as a pigeon hobbyist? find out now by playing YACOOZA......

JOKES ASIDES i don’t know i really don’t....umm, pigeonetics and animal crossing somehow?? :O... like, instead of managing your own town it’s managing your own loft!...orrrr, the jojo games (all star battle & eyes of heaven) with yakuza, because i think they’re somewhat similar because they’re both haha Wacky Silly AND serious over the top fighty-fighting.....or maybe a crossover with OFF and discover my body, which, despite being an incredibly short and obscure indie game i still love to bits for what it’s worth. WAIT ANIMAL CROSSING AND MINECRAFT THAT WOULD FUCK SO HARD OH MY GOD

16: Character you’ve hated most? From what game? i can’t think of any character i like, HATE...with a burning passion.. there are a few i dislike or have a complicated relationship with though.. i’m not interested in the series anymore but ouma from drv3...i’ll admit that he is a bit fun sometimes, especially in the very early beginning he’s a likeable brat but as the game progresses he becomes more irritating than anything and i have an issue with him in regards to writing, despite the fact that i have never been awake in any english class ever lol. it’s too long to put in this already long post but i’ll keep it at that. if you like him, well, good for you for finding joy in something i couldn’t! but he just doesn’t do it for me.

AH I JUST REMEMBERED....MINE......FROM YAKUZA 3....maybe i’d change my mind if i watched a playthrough of y3 again, because i think you always absorb something better on your second watch (tho i honestly Dont have the energy to do that all over again, the yakuza games are too fucking long), but i really hate his writing. spoilers for y3 but, i think mine’s writing, alongside other things in the game, were super messy...and a big part of why i hate him is that not only is he one of those “could’ve had great potential but fell flat” sorta guys but also his love for daigo is seen as some fans as good gay rep and i?????/.............um....WELL let’s just say that, i think people nowadays will see any gay character ever in any circumstance and say it’s good gay rep just based off the fact that A Gay Character exists....he was Not, good gay rep imo....he was not, let alone, Good. .........

17: What game do you never tell people you play? can’t think of any games i wouldn’t tell people i play.. idk exactly what this question’s asking. does it mean what game you don’t tell ppl you play bc you’re embarrassed about it...? i’m not very embarrassed by any of them. the only thing that comes close, i guess, is uhh lioden and wolvden. i’ve only interacted with those communities a LITTLE TINY WEE BIT, yet of what i’ve seen it’s a goddamn dumpster fire and i’d never want to be associated with them lol

19: Which game do you think deserves a revival? i’m well aware it’ll never happen and that it’s more a wet dream than anything but...PT/silent hills..... on a more realistic/”could happen” note, PIGEONETICS!!!! SERIOUSLY, it’s an amazing game about amazing animals and it teaches genetics in a very simplified and efficient way!! genetics is SO hard for me to understand, i fucking hated studying it but this game really helped me understand how it works AND its super engaging and interesting!! HOWEVER, of all the pigeon genes we know of, only a handful were seen in pigeonetics and i’d LOVE a sequel that employs new game mechanics AND new genes!! i wanna learn about bronze and stencil genes! i wanna learn about phenotypes like grizzled and pied!!! genes like sooty and dirty!!! @ UNIVERSITY OF UTAH GENETICS DEPARTMENT PLEASE IM BEGIGNG YOU

20: What was the first video game you ever played? earliest memories of Gaming involves me at my aunt’s house playing two games: super mario brothers and some kind of trapeze game. i don’t remember anything else though

21: How old were you when you first played a video game? i can’t remember but i must’ve been REAL tiny.... 6-9 years, maybe??

22: If you could immerse yourself in any game for one day, which game would it be? What would you do? immerse myself meaning go into their world...? huh....on one hand i’d like to go in the world of yakuza 0 to play in the arcades and do whore related activities but i’d also love to go into the world of animal crossing (and i’m pretty sure i’d be some sort of generic dromaeosaurid in that game!!) and shop, chat with villagers, do chores for them, go fishing, bug hunting, eat delicious fucking food like the apples mangos peaches cherries etc etc.....OH AND FOSSIL HUNTING THAT’S THE BEST PART!! though it would definetly be a little weird, to be a little dinosaur and finding a fossil of a...little dinosaur....i guess the non-sentient species went extinct and the dinosaur i am is some kind of, descendant of a sapient non-avian dinosaur that survived the k-pg extinction event...oh but who cares all i want is a cool little ambulocetus fossil or something. and some cherry pie :)

26: Handheld or console? my old ps3 just went kaput one day years ago so i haven’t used it in years so i can’t compare well... but i’d say handheld, because it lets me like DO stuff more...would love to get a console one day, a ps4 maybe but i’m kinda worried it’ll make me stay in one room all day wasting away my time when there’s other stuff i can do, y’know? but something handheld like my 3ds, on the other hand...i can do stuff with it. i can take it to my room and play it between breaks i take as i clean the room and fold my clothes, i can watch something on the tv and play the game during ad breaks, i can take it outside too if it has charge to last me a while! so....handheld i guess

27: Has there ever been a moment that has made you cry? yakuza 0 and undertale in particular have ALMOST made me fucking bawl with many of its moments....yakuza 0 especially, after that Fucking Ending i had trouble sleeping because oh my fucking god. video game people SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

28: Which character’s clothes do you wish you owned the most?

29: Which is more important, gameplay or story? HMMM....well, if i were to play a game with a shitty story but really good and fun gameplay i’d probably continue playing it for the gameplay. but if i played a game with shitty gameplay but an interesting story, there is a chance i’d play it more for the sake of the story but also i might just quite and see the rest of the story on youtube or something. i’m more likely to go through a boring story for fun gameplay than go through boring gameplay for an interesting story, so i guess gameplay is more important to me....that is, WHEN i actually own and play a game as opposed to when i just watch someone play a game because i don’t own the game but wanna know abt the story lol

30: A game that hasn’t been localized in your country that you think should be localized? i have no idea how video game localization really works....but i assume localizing a game in india would mean something like, removing content according to cultural norm and also somehow translating it into the 22 official languages..? or just two or three language if it’s tied to a particular state, which seems way more doable. i honestly have no idea? i’ve never interacted w the indian gaming community that much to be honest, all i know of it is of the video games i’ve seen sold in some game stores and a few whispers about like solid snake or whoever from my school’s cafeteria....the most popular games here, to my knowledge, are those very streamable games like fortnite and PUBG and your call of duties and whatnot. those generic shooters. and even then, that honestly isn’t the “indian” gaming community bc this country is so FUCKHUGE, it’s just tamil nadu. one state.

soooo, according to what little i know of gaming interests in where i live, i don’t think any of the games i like should be localized here bc i don’t really think there’s an audience for it as far as i can tell :( maybe animal crossing? it’s a fun little games for all ages and i think it has a chance of becoming popular here, so maybe that is worth a shot! but i can’t think of any other game that i like that really has an audience here (other than Me lol)

#asks #stommevrouw #THANK U EVIE THIS WAS SO FUNNNNNNN #WOOF haha this made me tired #im probably hitting the bed now! thank u!!

2 notes · View notes

thatonemsft15 · 5 years

Text

Knbvdaychallenge2020

Day 3 - Flowers/You’re beautiful, you know that?

Summary: Riko has self-doubts. There’s nothing Hyuuga has ever doubted about her (besides her cooking).

Relationship: Aida Riko/Hyuuga Junpei

Author’s Note: I know I’m late, but my fics wanted to cause trouble and end up longer than I intended, so I’m hecticly trying to get through them. This is the first one I was able to finish, and my first time ever posting a fic for Kuroko no Basket. Hope you guys like it!

Prompts by @vanilla-daydreams and @theuglycrybaby. Thank you guys so much for this little fandom boost!

Read it on AO3

Hyuuga is worried.

It’s not a particularly new feeling. He was worried when Kiyoshi got injured. He was worried they wouldn’t get any new recruits when their second year started. He’s been in a non-stop state of worry over losing his damn mind since they did get new recruits, and they all turned out to be little shits he regularly wants to beat the crap out of.

He’s never been worried about Aida Riko.

The toxic waste she calls food, yes, (Kagami’s been helping in that regard, so maybe he won’t have to risk dying just to spare her feelings anymore) but never Riko herself. Riko has only ever been strong, it’s one thing he’s always been able to count on, but earlier today she looked…frail.

Not pale, not ill, not malnourished. Hyuuga has seen her be all of those things at one point or another, but her resolve never once wavered. The strength of her mind, her character, everything that makes up the Riko he fears, admires, and lo—respects, seemed to have vanished. The Riko of today looked as if saying one wrong thing to her could shatter her into pieces.

So yeah, he’s worried. Even more so when he walks into their fifth class—ten minutes late because he had to speak with another teacher about a failed assignment—to find her usual seat empty. He gets scolded by their English teacher, and informed of what pages of grammar exercises to complete for the first half of class, before taking his usual seat by Koganei and Mitobe.

“Where’s Riko?” Hyuuga asks gruffly.

Koganei shrugs, brows furrowed in concentration. English has always been his worst subject.

Hyuuga clenches his jaw. He doesn’t know how to deal with things like this. It’s one of those situations that makes him wish he were more like Kiyoshi.

Kiyoshi’s an instigating bastard that likes to pretend he’s an airhead, but he always seems to know what people need. Hyuuga has never been good with other people—he’s not even sure how he’s managed to keep Izuki as a friend for so many years. He doesn’t even know how to ask someone what’s wrong without sounding like a dick.

Kiyoshi does.

Should he make an excuse to leave class and go find her?

Kiyoshi would.

What does Riko do when she’s upset? Where would she go?

Kiyoshi probably knows stuff like that.

He’s spent so much time trying to avoid certain aspects of his relationship with Riko that he’s realizing he may have neglected some very important other ones.

Koganei’s distraught voice breaks him out of his downward spiral.

“Rinn, for the last time, I don’t need your help. I’m gonna figure it—what?” Hyuuga leans over, catching Mitobe as he cuts Koga off with a serious of flustered gestures and a melancholy expression. “Oh.Oh.”

Koganei turns to him then, eyes somber.

Hyuuga feels a twinge of panic crawl up his spine. “What?”

“Mitobe says he might know where Riko is.”

He gives Koganei a ‘go on’ look, but the cat-mouthed boy just looks uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Hyuuga promptly loses his patience.

“Am I gonna have to beat it out of you?”

He can tell Koganei wants to roll his eyes, but meets him with a serious expression instead.

“He said she’s probably at her mom’s grave.”

Hyuuga is silent and still for what feels like an impossibly long time. “Her mom’s…dead?”

Koganei turns to Mitobe, translating his ‘sign language’. “Yeah, a few years ago today.”

Hyuuga…doesn’t understand. Why wouldn’t he know something like this?

“She told you this?”

“No, he was looking up Kagetora-san and found articles from that year.”

Hyuuga leans back in his seat, mind wandering. He hasn’t opened his workbook, hasn’t even unzipped his bag.

He’s never asked Riko about her family. They’ve talked about her dad, of course, ever since Hyuuga found out who he was, but she’s never mentioned her mother.

Kiyoshi would know about Riko’s mom, because he would have asked. He’d know where to find her. He’d know how to console her.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, quickly gathering his bag. Mitobe and Koganei peer up at him, startled.

He ignores them, and their teacher’s disgruntled call of “Hyuuga-san!”, rushing out of the classroom. He doesn’t stop for anyone who calls out to him on his way out of the building, his thoughts swirling around and taunting him.

If Kiyoshi were here, he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight until he figured out the problem, and tried one of his patented Kiyoshi fix-it disasters that somehow always end up working.

If Kiyoshi were here, she wouldn’t have had to deal with this on her own.

If Kiyoshi were here…Hyuuga clenches his fists.

Sometimes, he feels like he’s the one who should’ve gone to America.

Sometimes, he wishes Kiyoshi was the one in love with Riko.

*****

“Romantic feelings toward Riko? Oh no, not at all. Don’t get me wrong, I love her. I love you. You guys are my best friends.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“Also, I’m very gay.”

Hyuuga spits out his drink. Kiyoshi just laughs, clapping him on the back and handing him a napkin.

*****

Hyuuga finds her fairly easily. He always does.

It took less five minutes to find an article that mentioned which cemetery Riko’s mom is buried in, and with only one stop on the way, the trip was only about forty minutes in total. Upon arriving to the ornate cemetery gates, he’d spotted a head of short, caramel colored hair and their school uniform almost immediately, way up on one of the highest points of the lot.

He scales the hill, approaching a large, grey marble headstone cautiously, making just enough noise to alert Riko of his presence. He stops a few feet away from where she’s sitting with her knees hugged to her chest.

She doesn’t turn to face him, but addresses him all the same. “Hi Hyuuga.”

“How’d you know it was me?” He responds, softly for once.

“I saw you walking up to the gate.” Riko’s voice sounds thick with emotion. Grief.

He nods. Without another word, he bends down to gingerly place the bundle of flowers against the stone. He sits himself down down by Riko, close enough for comfort, but far enough not to crowd her space.

“Lilies?”

“For remembrance.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

Hyuuga shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

Riko laughs weakly. “How could you have? It’s not like I go around broadcasting it.”

He wants to argue that he could’ve paid better attention, even done the slightest bit of research on her father like Mitobe apparently did, but this isn’t about him.

“She was a beautiful woman.” He acknowledges the photo resting against the stone. It’s of Riko’s father and a short-haired woman smiling with a smaller Riko in her arms.

“She was, wasn’t she? She was an amazing mom. Always there for me, encouraging me to do or be whatever made me feel best. Driven, too. She was well on her way to becoming one of the best family lawyers in Tokyo. My dad was obsessed with her.” Riko laughs. Hyuuga can definitely imagine that. “It was always such a nice thing to witness, two people loving each other as much as they did.”

They sit in silence for a few moments. There’s a gentle breeze in the air, and the wafting smell of the lilies he brought permeates the air around them.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never have what they had.”

“Why not?”

“Most guys are afraid of girls like me, like my mom. Ones who are intelligent, ambitious, headstrong,” Riko plucks at her t-shirt. “Who look like thirteen year old boys without a skirt and hair clip. And the boys who aren’t afraid of girls like me are usually weirdos like my dad.” She shivers, wrapping her arms around her legs again.

Hyuuga gazes at her side profile. There’s so many things he wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should say any of them at all, if he even can.

He thinks about how they met. How she helped them form the team that changed all of their lives for the better. He thinks of Saturday afternoons spent shopping, after school study sessions, her father’s knowing glare.

How she trusts him to cut her hair.

Of ordering food and knowing each other’s preferences.

Shared smiles, lingering eye contact, brief touches.

He thinks of everything he knows about her, everything he doesn’t, and how he’s going to bring that gap. He thinks and thinks and thinks, but he isn’t saying anything, and he knows that he has to say something.

His heart races. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Riko scoffs. “Are too.”

Hyuuga nods, because yeah, he is, but that’s not what he meant. “Well yeah, obviously I’m afraid of you. You’re a scary ass coach, but,” He takes a deep, shaky breath, and decides to follow through. “I’m more afraid of losing you as a friend than anything else. Any guy worth a damn would feel the same.”

Riko looks at him then, really looks at him. As if she’s doing one of her scans. He tries not to swallow nervously. He’s getting closer and closer to confession territory. After a painfully long and intense stare down, she gives him a small, barely there smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that.” Riko stands, brushing the dirt and grass off of her knee high socks and skirt. “Thank you, for bringing the flowers. And for being here.”

There’s no place I’d rather be.

“No problem.”

On the walk home, there’s a river bank with stone ledges. Riko trots ahead of him, climbing up on the ledge to walk across like a tightrope.

The sun is setting, and it casts a brilliant light around them, dancing off of the water. Riko leans her head back as she walks, smiling softly with the sunlight shining behind her like a halo. Hyuuga blushes.

He isn’t Kiyoshi. He never will be, doesn’t want to be, but there are certain things he can appreciate about the sneaky bastard.

Kiyoshi would tell her how he feels.

“For the record, I don’t think you look like a thirteen year old boy, ever.” He’s ashamed to say he mumbles the last part, cheeks flaming and facing away from Riko. “I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s still not a confession, but it’s about as much as he can take for the day, and piggybacking off of her feelings over her deceased mother just feels wrong. It’s enough for him to try and assuage any lingering doubts she has about herself.

When he finally works up the courage to face her again, Riko is peering at him with a curious expression. He’s more interested in the tinted color of her cheeks, though, and how her eyes seem to say what neither of them could probably ever manage.

But when she hops down from the ledge, fitting herself into his personal space and letting their hands graze each other lightly, he knows that nothing really needs to be said.

(Except maybe a thank you to Kiyoshi, for entangling himself into Hyuuga’s life so thoroughly that he can use him as a comforting standard, but he’ll die before ever letting Kiyoshi know about that.)

#knbvdaychallenge2020 #knb #hyuuga junpei #aida riko #hyuuga x riko #knb fanfiction #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basuke

29 notes · View notes

emberfrostlovesloki · 4 years

Text

To Be Held Chapter 2 - Running Out

Here is chapter two!

Chapter warnings: Description of kidnapping. Mention of torture. Homophobic ideology. Description of sexual assault.

Spencer was on his side sleeping when his phone rang with a piercing shrill. He rolled onto his back, and he extended his long arm out to reach the phone on the bedside table. He didn’t even look at the name when he answered, “Reid here.” When he heard the voice of Garcia he sat up, suddenly awake. “Hey genius. Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep, but I got your girl. “Give me a second.” Spencer said while turning on the lamp above his bed. The light hurt his eyes. He grabbed his notepad and a pen and sat down cross legged on the mattress. “I’m ready.” “Well, Venus Rising’s other name is Levi Hill. She’s an English lecturer at...” Before Penelope could get the rest of her sentence out Spencer filled in the last few words with, “Washington State University.” The computer whiz laughed and responded with, “Bingo. She teaches Queer theory, a class on Milton, and early British literature.” Spencer jotted down the information, and asked, “How long has she been teaching in Washington?” “Three years. It looks like she moved here from Ohio after getting her masters degree at Notre Dame. She’s twenty three, and before you ask, she doesn’t have a big social media presence, so I can’t find that much more about her.” Spencer replied to this tide of information with, “You did a great job Garcia. With this information we have a connection between Mr. Pyne at the university and Ms. Grost at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer was always impressed by Penelope, and sometimes he was scared of her too. “Anything for a fellow friend with a superior intellect.” Garcia said, then continued by saying, “I’ve sent Ms. Hill’s profile from Washington State over to you, along with her LinkedIn, and just for a bonus, her dissertation. One last thing you might want to know, pretty boy, she’s got office hours at 1:00 tomorrow, office number 212.” Spencer checked his email and found the attachments. “Thanks again.” Spencer said. Garcia replied happily, “No problem, now it’s my time for my beauty sleep.” The line dropped, and Spencer ran his hand through his hair. The clock read 5:00 A.M. ‘At least I have a few hours to read over this material’ Spencer mused. He grabbed his glasses off the table. Got up and started making some of the lousy instant coffee. It was going to be a long day.

The team entered the East precinct of the Seattle Police Department at 8:00 A.M. No one had really slept, which was usual in an active case. J.J. kindly handed Hotch, Gideon and Spencer a cup of coffee before pouring her own. As the coffee crew assembled around the milk and sugar. Gideon was adding a packet of sugar and stated, “This unsub feels very unstable to me, yet he’s methodical and calculated. It doesn’t make sense.” Hotch looked up from stirring the milk into his coffee and replied, “The unsub must be mission-oriented. We’re looking for someone that has a problem with religion or politics. He probably holds extreme beliefs.” The four members of the BAU moved into the room they had set up in and jumped into their assignments. Hotchner started by saying “I’m meeting Mr. and Mrs. Pyne at 10:00 A.M. today. Elle, will you come with me?” Elle nodded and said, “Of course.” Gideon then said, “I’m going down to the coroner's office to look at the death certificates of the victims, then I’ll go over to the forensic labs that ran the test on the orange fibers found at the scene. Spencer will join me. I might need your expertise at the lab.” “Actually I’m meeting a potential target that the unsub might have had contact with. Her name is Levi Hill. She’s a professor at Washington State, and an employee of Fantasy Girls.” The team looked at him, surprised that he had found a connection between the two victims. Spencer continued, “I was hoping J.J. would go with me. I’ll go to the coroner’s office with you, but Ms. Hill’s office hours are at 1:00 P.M. and I plan on being on time.” Gideon chuckled that Spencer hadn’t just said he couldn’t go with him to the lab. But Jason also knew that Spencer didn’t like conflict and avoided it when possible. He smiled at the genius while saying, “Sounds like a plan.” J.J. finished the conversation by saying, “I’ve set up a press conference at 5:00 P.M. today. The media is getting restless and it would be best if we give them, and the police a profile by then.” The team grouped up and into their assignments and headed out to the cars.

Mr. and Mrs. Pyne lived in a modest house on the edge of town. Hotchner and Elle were seated on a couch which faced another couch facing them, where the Pyne’s sat. Pictures were spread across the coffee table that showed Jefferson Pyne; the photos ranged from the smiling blond haired boy as a child to an adult version of the child standing outside of a dorm on the Washington State campus. “So, Mrs. Pyne, you said that Jefferson was doing well in school? Did you notice any changes in him in his sophomore year? Were there people who disliked your son?” Mrs. Pyne swallowed and wiped at a tear that fell down her face. Before she responded Mr. Pyne squeezed her hand reassuringly. She started by saying, “Jefferson excelled in school. He loved living in the dorms and meeting new people. During his freshman year he came out as gay.” Before Mrs. Pyne could continue, Hotchner interjected, “And how did you react to your son’s coming out?” Mr. Pyne smiled a little and said, “We try to be very open in this household. We told our son when he was younger that he could love anyone he wanted when he grew up.” After Mr. Pyne finished answering the question his wife continued by saying, “I was so proud of him the day he told me that he was gay, so, so proud.” Mrs. Pyne then bent over with a sob. She tried to hold back her tears, but they flowed down her cheeks. Mr. Pyne held her close to him and continued answering the questions with, “In Jefferson’s sophomore year he moved back home and commuted to school everyday. He wanted to live in an apartment, but we were having some financial troubles and it would be much cheaper. Mr. Pyne stood, allowing his wife to sit and gather her emotions. He gestured for Elle and Hotch to follow him. The trio walked up the stairs to the second story of the house. Mr. Pyne opened the second door on the left and said, “This room was Jefferson’s. We haven’t moved much in here except for some of the photos you saw downstairs. We’ll be downstairs, take all the time you need.” Mr. Pyne stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs, and went back in the direction of Mrs. Pyne.

The bedroom had a bed, desk and lamp. A pride flag adorned the wall next to a BYX banner. Hotch looked around the room and noticed the banner. “What fraternity is BYX? I haven’t heard of it before?” He looked to Elle. She was examining the book shelf that held a lot of college textbooks. She replied, “BYX stands for Brothers Under Christ. It’s a Christian fraternity that is known for their service to the community.” Elle didn’t know how much she believed in Christian fraternities or sororities, but she had a feeling about Jefferson. She told Hotch, “I don’t see anything suspicious about this kid. I suppose that he could be getting some backlash for coming out, but other than that, I don’t think he had enemies.” Hotch replied, “I agree. The parents don’t seem like likely suspects. Let’s go down and look at Jefferson’s laptop. If he was getting hate for being gay we might see it online.” The pair of agents stepped out of the room. Elle gingerly closed the door to Jefferson’s room and followed Aaron down the stairs into the living room.

The coroner’s office was very cold inside. Spencer folded his arms over his chest. Conserving the heat between his arms, shirt and maroon vest, and his body. After a minute an older man walked toward them. The man extended a hand toward Jason and said, “I’m doctor Stanley. I examined the bodies and wrote the cause of death” Gideon retracted his hand and said, “My name is Agent Gideon, and this is Dr. Reid.” Dr. Stanley took the time to look at Reid with unbelief. Stanley even rolled his eyes until Jason asked, “Do you have the files on Mr. Pyne and Ms. Grost ready for us?” The older doctor said, “Follow me.” He turned on his heel and walked quickly down a white tiled hallway. Spencer and Gideon followed behind him. Stanley unlocked a room that held a metal table and chairs. On the table lay two files. Stanley said, “Here are the files, if you have any questions you can page me.” With that being said the coroner walked away. Reid couldn’t help but sarcastically say, “What a professional man.” Gideon replied, “Agreed.” In the same tone as Spencer. The two men sat down, each grabbing a file off the table. After fifteen minutes of silently reading Spencer found something odd in the report on Ms. Grost. “Gideon, it says in the report that we got at headquarters that she had been raped. In Dr. Stanley’s report he only states that “‘the body was bruised in the primary sexual organs. If she was raped, why wouldn’t he have written that?” Gideon looked at the page that Spencer had handed him and replied, “Let’s find out,” while punching the button to Dr. Stanley’s pager.

Stanley walked reluctantly into the room with Spencer and Gideon. “Did you have a question?” the older man asked with condescension, looking at Spencer as he asked. Spencer looked back at the doctor unfazed and said, “I was wondering why in one report rape was explicitly stated, but in your analysis of the body you don’t?” Stanley cleared his throat and responded by saying, “The body hadn’t been penetrated by male genitalia. It was clear that an object was used. Under certain definitions that would not be considered rape.” Spencer looked a little sick at this information, and Gideon was angry. Jason stood, holding the page in his hand pushing it in front of the coroner. “You didn’t think it was important to tell us that the victim had been raped with an object instead of a dick.” Gideon breathed out harshly and turned to Spencer saying, “We have the information we need. Let’s go.” Jason’s tone calmed when he looked at Reid. Reid made him feel like a father again, and he couldn't let himself be mad around the younger agent. Spencer stood and neatly placed the folders on top of eachother on the table. As He and Gideon walked toward the door. Before Reid left the room he turned to Dr. Stanley and stated cooly, “I’ll be talking to your superior when this is over, about your apparent lack of empathy and understanding of medical terms dealing with trauma.” With that Spencer turned on his heel and left the cold room behind. As he and Gideon walked to the car Reid took a moment to close his eyes and feel the sun on his skin. The long night was getting to him.

In an unknown location a cabin surrounded by trees came to life with a shrill cry. Inside a man was tied to a wooden table. His legs and arms were bound in the shape of the cross. A figure dangled a cross above the body of the man who was tied down. “God told me that I should give you the chance to repent. You claim to be a man of God, preaching his word to those people who will burn in hell. It’s heretical!” The tormented man breathed laboredly, and coughed up some blood. The man stammered out shakely, “God states that he loves all people. Therefore I practice giving love to all people .” The man standing over the preacher laughed grimily and responded to his captive comment by saying, “God said that there would be false teachers in the end times, what a blessing I’ve found one. Now repent, or I’ll send you to the pit.” The preacher couldn’t say anymore, he was in so much pain that his mind couldn’t put words together anymore. Before the pastor passed out from the exhaustion of his position, he thought, ‘Lord save me. Lord.”

Gideon dropped Spencer off outside the main campus of Washington State University. Just as Spencer got to the student union he spotted J.J. standing outside the campus bookstore. When J.J. noticed him, she walked to him, and he asked, “How was it today in the station?” J.J. sighed at the memory and said, “The press had so many questions that are going to be answered in four hours if they were just patient. Instead I was forced to copy and paste the same response to fifteen different outlets.” Spencer had spotted the coffee shop above the bookstore and checked his watch, which read 12:25 P.M. “That does sound very boring. How would you feel about grabbing a coffee before going to office hours?” J.J. smiled at the idea and agreed. The two of them climbed the stairs. The date to the football game had made it clear that she and Spencer weren’t meant for eachother. But that didn’t invalidate their friendship. With coffees in hand the duo from the BAU found the English building and waited outside office 212. Spencer was leaning against the doorframe reading a basic philosophy book when he heard footsteps coming their way. He closed the book and stashed in his shoulder bag. The young women who walked toward her office didn’t look like what J.J. or Spencer had expected. “May I help you?” Professor Hill asked as she attempted to grab the keys to her office while holding a large box of blue exam books. Spencer pulled out his badge and said, “I’m Dr. Reid and this is agent Jareau. We’re from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. We have a few questions for you profesor Hill.” Ms. Hill looked surprised for a second, but she quickly replied with, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Reid, and you agent Jareau. If you give me a second, we can go into my office. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” Spencer quickly put his badge away and offered to hold the blue books. With the package out of her hands, Ms. Hill was able to grab her keys from her backpack and quickly unlocked the door to her office. She flipped on an office light and plugged in two lamps on each side of the desk, lastly she pulled a chair from one wall and placed it next to another chair at the desk. After she had finished all this she said, “Come in.” J.J. went in and took a seat, Spencer followed. He shut the door to the office with his foot, still holding the box of empty exam books. “I can take those now, thank you.” She took the box out of Spencer’s hands and placed it on an empty shelf of an overflowing bookcase. She sighed at the sight of the exams and then sat in the chair across from the agents, just as Spencer took his seat.

With notepad and pen at the ready Spencer began the interview with, “How long have you been living in Seattle Professor Hill?” Ms. Hill replied, “I’ve been living here for three years now. I was offered an adjunct position at the university during my final semester at Notre Dame.” Next, J.J. asked, “When did you start working at Fantasy Girls?” At this question Hill’s eyes briefly glanced over to her Master’s degree hanging on the wall before she looked at J.J. and said, “My second semester of teaching at this university made me realize that I wasn’t going to pay off my student loans as a professor. Even with financial aid and scholarships my debt after school was more than I could pay off in twenty years with my current position. In December I got an advancement in the University and I signed up to work at Fantasy Girls.” Spencer nodded his head at hearing about needing to pay off debt. Although he was fortunate that his parents had paid for his education, he knew people that were consumed with debt for the rest of their lives, it destroyed them. Spencer continued the conversation by inquiring, “Were you friends with Sydney Grost, or was she just a colleague?” Hill smiled at the question and said, “I remember my first night hosting; I had a client that was very insistent that I go back to his apartment with him. Well Sydney walked over to him and said, “‘If you keep harassing her, I’ll go over to your apartment and break every window I see with a brick.’” Sydney was very protective of all the girls. She and I worked a lot of jobs together and we’d always get coffee at the end of the night. Sit and talk about what we were doing tomorrow. She was great.” As Hill finished the answer she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. It was clearly an attempt to stop herself from crying. Spencer looked away from the professor for a second too, not wanting to make her feel awkward. J.J. then asked kindly, “I know this is a sensitive question, but have you, Sydney, or any other women you work with gone back to a client’s apartment or house?” Ms. Hill ran her hand through her short hair. She took another breath and looked at J.J, and said, “The people I work with, they're like a family. We see each other at least three times a week. We see each other nude, or almost nude, and we complain about our lives. Whether or not some of the escorts have worked in that way I can’t say with certainty. We have to have some boundaries and that’s one of them.” She looked to J.J. to see if that was enough, “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but have you solicited sex after work?” J.J. did feel horrible having to ask a question like that. The blond agent knew that the work paid and therefore had to ask. Hill shook her head before answering, “No. I’ve never wanted to risk my position, not even for that much money.” J.J. nodded and jotted down the answer. Spencer placed his head on the side of his hand and tried to think of something he was forgetting. He thought for a moment, and then he it hit him, “‘social media.’” After realizing there was something strange about the professor’s media he quickly asked, “You don’t really have any social media. Is there someone you’re trying to avoid, or get away from?” Ms. Hill replied, “Being an escort isn’t really seen as a moral profession. If anyone found out what I do I’d lose my job, my friends in church and the opportunities I might have once I can move forward from here. The only person I’m trying to actively avoid is my father, but he lives in Florida, so I doubt he’s trying to find out where I am.” J.J. then said, “I think you’ve given us a lot of good information Professor Hill. I know you have class in twenty minutes. We’ll get out of your hair and let you get ready for that. Thank you so much for your time.” Ms. Hill smiled and wrote something down on a sticky note. As she handed the note to J.J. she said, “Here’s my cell number, email, and schedule for my other job. I hope you find the person who’s doing this, and stay safe.” When she finished saying this she stood and extended her hand to J.J. and Spencer. The FBI agents stood and Spencer opened the door for J.J. As the blond agent stepped out Spence pulled out his card and handed it to Hill and said, “If you see anything weird, or you feel unsafe, feel free to call me.” Ms. Hill smiled and said, “Thank you Dr. Reid.”

Gideon had picked up the results from the orange fibers. They had from a basic rope and could be bought at any hardware store in town. Although that lead had been disappointing Jason hoped that once Reid had a loot at the retort he would have more input on the evidence. As he was leaving the lab he got a call from Chief Best. “Gideon here.” The leader of the BAU listened for a moment before quickly picking up the forensic evidence and ran out of the lab. As he slid the seat of his car Jason replied to the police chief by saying, “I’ll let the team know, and I’m headed to the house right now.

The latest crime scene had new features that the others had not. Firstly, it was fresher than the other scenes. Secondly the victim had enemies in the community. James Reeve was a pastor and had been scrutinized by some of the other churches for teaching a doctrine of tolerance for some communities often marginalized by denominations of the Christian faith. As Morgan walked around the room he commented, “Reeve’s church is close to the Washington State Campus. It’s the central point to all of these cases.” Reid was confused by the new victim and said, “Why would the unsub take a college pastor? It doesn’t fit the profile. It’s likely the unsub is around the same age as Mr. Reeve. There seem to be a thousand directions this case could go.” Hotchern replied, “If the unsub is changing his targets every time he finds a new victim he could be trying to throw us off the trail. Or maybe he’s becoming more unstable. Afterall, this is the first time that he’s shown a sign of forced entry.” Gideon looked up from the door that had been forced open and said, “I’m certain that all of these victims are related in some way. The unsub is just getting bolder, braver with his abductions. I think that he’s making his final preparations for an important kill. We have to go back to the station and give a profile. Once the officers have it we need everyone looking for a person that meets the profile. We’re running out of time.”

#criminal minds #j.j #elle greenaway #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #fanfiction

5 notes · View notes