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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

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It’s the Best Time of The Year

Genre: Fan Fiction (Night Hunter) Pairing: Lt Walter Marshall /Reader Warnings: Pure Fluff! Get your sweet tooth ready! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: A little fluffy, okay a lot of fluffy, Christmas-ish Walter.

Henry Cavill Master List

From outside the house, Walter could hear Holly Jolly Christmas blaring throughout, unlocking the door and trudging inside he kicked the snow off his boots before leaving them on the mat beside the front door. Typically, this would lead to him lecturing you about being aware of your surroundings. Anybody could break in and...he stopped seeing you and his daughter attempting to waltz through the kitchen.

Racks of cookies were littering the counter tops, various sized boxes took up what cookies didn't. Squares, pies, and handmade chocolates took up even more space on the table, spilling into the dining room. Someone had been busy. Blissfully unaware of his presence, you and Faye continued to laugh and dance. Aprons and cheeks covered in flour. Faye's dark hair had splatters of red icing here and there.

Foregoing the lecture, Walter gave in – this once. Watching for a few more seconds before clearing his throat to alert you of his presence.

“Walt!” You exclaim letting go of Faye, the two of you giggling like crazy, “You're home early.” You rush to give him a quick peck.

“Harper forced me out.” His laugh is soft and deep. Eyeing you and his daughter, he raises his brow. “Did I interrupt, ladies?”

“Not at all. We were working on dinner, while finishing up some baking.” You answer happily, smiling wide. The music continues to play, at a lower level, thanks to Faye.

“Hey dad.” The teenager hugs her father tightly. Kissing the top of her head, Walter takes a deep breath resting his chin there for a moment. “So, off early. Did Hell freeze over?”

“Language.” Walter mumbles, nudging her. “And no. I am home early, because I have decided to take a few days off. Harper decided I should start early. Come home and enjoy the chaos.”

“Excuse me?” Faye is wide eyed. “Did I hear that right? You, my father, Walter Marshall, are taking a few days off? Dad, are you dying?”

“No,” Chuckling Walter shakes his head. Sliding his arm around you, he pulls you closer. “I had some time to use and decided to spend Christmas home. Is that a big deal?”

Giggling, you wink at Faye indicating that there is more to this story than her father is telling her. Tapping her foot on the tiled floor, Faye wrinkles her nose. She's not buying it. No where in her memory, did she recall her father taking time off.

“Uh huh. Right, okay.” Rolling her eyes she scoffs.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Walter glances at you.

“Because you never take time off. Ever.” You answer for Faye.

When Walter had told you that he wanted to take Christmas off, it was startling. He rarely took time off and always worked the holidays. Faye would stay with her mother, while Walter practically lived in his office. “Crime doesn't take Christmas off.” He would fuss. In the four years that you had known Walter, two that you were together, he hardly took time off for anything. Upon further discovery, it seemed nobody could remember the last time the Detective took more than a day off. A whole week off, including Christmas, this really was some sort of Christmas Miracle.

“Which is why I have decided to take the time. Is it a crime that I want Christmas with my family?”

“No.” Faye shrugged. Stirring the sauce in the pot, Faye sighed. She was not buying whatever her father was selling.

“Why don't you run up, get changed, and we will have dinner nearly ready by then.” You gently pat Walter's chest, giving him another quick kiss. “Go, we can marvel at the impossible when you come back down.” Not missing the chance to tease him.

Shaking his head and muttering about what terrible influences you and Faye were on one another, Walter returned the kiss, before turning on his heel and heading to change out of his office attire. Downstairs you and Faye had reverted back to your antics, tossing a piece of lettuce at her you laughed when she smacked you with the salad spoon. Walter would pretend to ignore it, but you knew that he enjoyed the chaos. He especially loved that you and Faye got on so well.

He would tell you every time she came over, how much he loved that she had decided to love you as much as he did. It was pretty hard not to love her back. When you had started dating Walter, you knew he had a daughter, and an ex-wife. Both, who at times, gave him grief. You had quickly worked out that it wasn't in a malicious intent, they simply worried about him. Especially Faye.

“My god that smells fantastic,” Walter commented walking through the house to rejoin his family.

“Faye made it,” You beamed with pride, arms wrapping around Walter's torso. You loved how warm he always was. Even more so since the winter had once again came. Snuggling into his side, you felt him relax while you watched Faye finish dinner.

“And who made all these?” He gestured to the baking.

“It was a joint effort.” Looking over her shoulder from the stove, Faye answered with a smile. “We're taking some down to the station tomorrow.”

“They will love that,” Walter smiled softly.

“Since you're off for vacation, we could use the extra pair of hands.” Faye winked, sticking out her tongue. “Or if we take you to work, will you end up staying, because crime doesn't take Christmas off.” She did her best impression of her father. You couldn't help but snort a little.

“Hush, you.” Walter bumped you with his hip. “I can go to work and not work.”

“Oh really?” Faye challenged. “Why did you all of a sudden decide to take time off, anyway?”

“Well,” Walter cleared his throat, leaning over you to reach for a snowflake shaped cookie, “I wanted to take some time to celebrate.”

“Should we tell her?” You ask watching Faye's expression. Confusion growing.

“Think she can handle it?” Walter teased.

“Yes!” Faye urged, bouncing on her feet. “Yes, tell me!”

The suspense was going to kill her. There were a million things in her mind. Whatever her imagination was telling her, you could only hope this was going to be as good. Faye was a good kid, you had worked hard all afternoon, worrying that you would let the cat out of the bag. Walter would have been fine with you sharing the surprise, but you wanted him to be there, too.

“Okay, but I want you to know that this changes nothing. I am still going to love you and...”

“Oh my GOD!” Shouting and squealing, Faye waved her hands excitedly. “You're pregnant!”

Wide eyed Walter nearly choked on the second cookie he had swiped. Laughing, you can feel his heart racing like a damn cheetah. Her face was priceless, but it was time to break her poor little heart.

“Uh, no.” You pout and shrug. “No brothers or sisters, yet.”

“Okay, so then what...”

“We're getting married.” Walter announced, unceremoniously. His eyes bright and his smile infectious.

“Dad!” Faye exclaimed, her hands wildly waving in excitement. “You were supposed to let me help you. Holy shit, how bad did he screw this up? Where's your ring? He did buy a ring, right? I told him about the...”

“Faye,” Walter's tone was stern.

“He didn't screw it up, at all.” You pat his chest, beaming. “And there is a ring, but it had to be sized. I'll have it back next week, but I have pictures.”

“Oh my god, I NEED to see them!” Shouting happily, Faye forgot about the dinner she was making. “Let me see! I need to see it! Dad! This is amazing!” tears in her eyes she hugged Walter's neck tightly.

Hugging his daughter, tight, Walter felt a wave of relief. He had assumed that Faye would take the news well, but one could never be too sure in these situations. Letting go of his neck, Faye wiped her eyes quick, before attacking you in her next hug.

Excitedly squealing as she loosened her grip, Faye paused. “Who else knows?”

“Us, you. We wanted to tell you first.” Walter spoke, as he took over dinner.

“How long have you...”

“Four days,” You wipe your own tears. “Oh my god, Faye. It was so perfect and so unexpected. Your old man has charm.” You giggle like a teenager. “I was getting ready for work...”

“You asked her while she was getting ready for work? Dad,” Faye rolled her eyes at him.

Walter shrugged it off. Whatever, you'd said “yes” that was good enough for him.

You had been upstairs in your bathroom, getting ready for work, when you'd walked out to Walter in the hall way. Kissing you, he took a step back, revealing the black box in the palm of his hand. No words. No grand gesture. But you knew exactly what he was asking. Tears, blurring your vision you allowed him to open the box and slide the slightly larger than needed ring on your left hand.

“It was so cute, though.” You defend your fiancé – You can't help but mull the word over. It feels so...odd to think of Walter in such terms.

“Dinner,” Walter announced turning off the gas on the stove. Not that it mattered, the two of you were still talking about how he had proposed and the things you loved, verses what Faye would have had him do differently. Whatever. You two would eat when you were good and ready.

“This is so amazing! This is going to be perfect. Can I come dress shopping with you?”

“I would hope my maid of honour wants to come dress shopping.” Catching Walter's eye, you winked.

“Really? I don't know...wow.” Breathing deeply to steady herself, Faye shook with delight. “Really? You want me?”

“Yes, silly!” You exclaim, hugging her again. Oh god it felt so good to tell Faye the news. Your head would have exploded if you'd had to keep this quiet any longer.

Grabbing your hand, Faye linked her fingers with yours, the two of you twirling around laughing and chattering about weddings. Walter was comfortable to lean against the counter watching the two of you dance around like fools. Dinner would keep, he could heat it in the microwave later. Dancing and singing to It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas, you broke away from Faye, dancing over to Walter.

“May I have this dance?” You wink, pulling his arm.

Unfolding his arms, he allowed you to take his hand. Expertly twirling you around, Walter smiled when Faye whistled. Who knew her dad could dance? Moving you back to him, Walter held you against his chest gently swaying to the time of the music. He had spent a few nights this week dancing happily around the kitchen, living room, hell even the bathroom with you. It was silly, but Walter was beginning to enjoy the laid back approach to life.

“Faye,” Walter furrowed his brow, sighing. Pretending to grump as she recorded the two of you.

“What? You two are adorable. Dad, when did you get those moves?”

“I happen to be a fine dancer,” Walter let go of your hand, grasping Faye's free hand and taking her by surprise. Quickly handing off her phone, Faye carefully followed Walter's lead.

Laughing when Walter spun her around, sending her across the room, Faye caught her balance on the edge of the breakfast table. She could never remember her dad having this much fun or laughing this hard. Dancing around, you laugh when Walter quickly dips you pulling you back up and kissing you softly. Faye's mock retching noises going ignored.

“Thank you,” his lips against your, Walter smiles.

“For?”

“For saying yes and agreeing to marry me. For making me take time to enjoy my family.”

“It's nearly Christmas, Walt. A few days off, a party or two, it won't hurt. You work hard, sweetheart. You need to relax.” You lean into his chest, inhaling the scent of amber and sage.

Clearing her throat, Faye stood with a cookie in her hand, nibbling casually. “Uh, I know that you said I wasn't going to have a sibling, but um...could you not make one right now.”

#henry cavill #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #nomis #night hunter

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unfortunatelyilikebnha · 3 years

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Me making headcanons for friendships that get little to no screentime but I’m way too invested in anyways? More likely than you’d think 🥰 (it’s been a while since I’ve done a long ass headcanon post so let’s fuckin goooooooo)

Gonna start with the one I think about the most often (platonic shouchako):

After Midoriya and Iida become friends with Todoroki, obviously Uraraka wants to be his friend too since he’s important to her two closest friends

She starts inviting to him to do things with her, like joining lil competitions with classmates and baking and shit

Todoroki is confused why she’s suddenly inviting him to do all these things with her but he finds her to be pleasant company so he goes along with it

They actually make a good team, especially when they’re motivated (which since Uraraka is very competitive and Todoroki is fairly competitive himself, is often). They destroy their classmates at shit like class water gun fights and prank wars. They are a truly terrifying duo and the rest of the class is wary at best whenever they’re on the same team

One day Uraraka offhandedly refers to Todoroki as her friend and Todoroki’s like “??? You wanna be my friend?” and Uraraka’s like “uhh I already am your friend? What did you think I was doing all this time?” and Todoroki (who hasn’t really made friends outside of the context of fighting)’s like “oh. Thank you” and maybe smiles a little

Uraraka is overcome with the strong feeling that she would die for him (Iida and Midoriya are like “join the club”)

ANYWAYS they like training together since Uraraka specializes in close combat and Todoroki specializes in ranged combat, and they spar fairly often

They have a running bet over who will defeat the other in training more by the end of the year. It’s low stakes (the loser just has to make the winner their favorite food), but they like the competition

Uraraka learns that Todoroki has a sweet tooth, so she asks Sato to teach the two of them to bake, and baking together kinda becomes their thing, it’s relaxing and they enjoy it. They do it both for fun and when one of them has a bad day

Todoroki buys Uraraka little gifts, like he’ll see her favorite type of mochi at the store and get it for her or he gets her a Kirby plushy because “it looks like her” (Uraraka jokingly chases him around for that one)

They commiserate with Iida about Midoriya’s bone breaking habits and general self destructive tendencies and the three of them team up to try and get him to care for himself more. They also team up with Midoriya to get Iida to be less hard on himself. They are the Midoriya And Iida Support And Appreciation Squad.

Uraraka thinks Todoroki’s sense of humor is fucking HILARIOUS and Todoroki takes advantage of this to try to make her laugh at inopportune times (almost no one believes her when she complains about this because they’re like “Todoroki? Making jokes? Seems unlikely.” Uraraka has decided that he is the incarnation of evil). She swears revenge on him every time though the revenge is usually something silly like sneak attacking him to ruffle his hair so the colors are all messed up and it sticks up funny

She’s actually one of the people he texts most often, both while they’re at school and as pro heroes (while they both deeply care about their friends Todoroki is the type to accidentally fall out of contact if other people don’t initiate, and though busy Uraraka refuses to let that happen).

Sometimes he sends her weird ass memes at odd hours of the night & when she wakes up the next morning she’s like “what the fuck. Todoroki what does this mean.” He usually just sends her :) in return which explains absolutely nothing.

If anyone ever insults one of them within the other’s earshot, it’s on sight. Uraraka got detention for a week after punching a second year who said Todoroki’s scar was ugly, and Todoroki got detention for two weeks after icing someone who made fun of the state of Uraraka’s clothes. Neither one of them can bring themselves to regret it.

When Uraraka has a bad day, Todoroki is good at silently offering her support by being near her, sometimes giving off heat or cool if she’d benefit from it, and not asking her questions but being willing to listen to what she has to say if she wants to tell someone about what’s bothering her

When Todoroki has a bad day, Uraraka notices and gives him space but also reminds him that his friends love him and offers him an opportunity to talk about what’s bothering him if he wants to + says she’ll punch whoever made him sad (he has no doubt that if he wanted her to, she’d actually do it, no matter who it was that was bothering him, which is an oddly heartwarming thought)

Whenever Iida or Midoriya teases one of them, they playfully go “friendship ended with (Iida/Midoriya), (Uraraka/Todoroki) is my new best friend” then laugh (Uraraka) or look outwardly blank while hiding secret amusement (Todoroki) when Iida/Midoriya is thrown off guard and/or jokingly tries to “get their best friend back” (they r all best friends actually so this is of course all in good fun :’) )

Todoroki knows how to braid because Fuyumi and his mom taught him in an attempt to create some nice memories while Uraraka doesn’t know how since her hair has never really been long enough to braid. However there’s a period of time where Uraraka hasn’t been able to cut her hair for a while since she’s been so busy, and her front hair pieces have started blowing into her eyes. When she complains to Todoroki about this and says she’d braid it back if she knew how to, Todoroki offers to do it for her and teach her how. She enthusiastically accepts, and brags to the rest of the class how good Todoroki is at braiding (which may start a trend of class 1a asking Todoroki to braid their hair - even though most of them can do it themselves - but he doesn’t mind). Todoroki teaches her how to braid and at first she uses his hair for practice, but she picks it up quickly and now likes to braid Tsuyu’s hair for her. They still occasionally braid each other’s hair for fun though

When Uraraka discovers Todoroki’s kind of touch starved but actually seems to like physical affection from his friends, she makes it her mission to give him more of it by ruffling his hair and playfully nudging him and hugging him sometimes. The rest of the class picks up on this and starts joining in, to Uraraka’s (and Todoroki’s secret) delight

Todoroki can and will fall asleep everywhere, and once that starts including “on his friends”, Uraraka makes it her mission to make sure nobody wakes him up unless absolutely necessary bc he’s Tired and deserves a rest

Uraraka is hungry a lot, especially when she overuses her quirk, and though she tends to ignore it and say that she’s used to it, Todoroki starts carrying snacks around with him and slipping them into her bag/locker/pockets/onto her desk when she’s not looking. She’s sure he’s the one doing it but she’s never caught him and he denies it every time she asks him about it, so she can’t really do anything about it except eat the snacks

Todoroki helps Uraraka study sometimes because Iida is great but he’s not necessarily great at figuring out why she’s struggling with certain concepts and Midoriya is great but he tends to latch onto a small detail of the assignment and ramble about it while forgetting what he was originally trying to explain and Yaoyorozu’s great but her study group is already pretty big and Uraraka doesn’t necessarily want to add another person to her plate or be in such a big group since she’d get distracted, meanwhile Todoroki’s pretty decent at identifying the roots of problems and explaining them and he’s quiet enough otherwise that he makes for a pleasant study partner. Her class rank has actively improved because of this, and she made him soba to thank him for his help

I’ll probably add more in the future but when I tried to post this a few days ago tumblr acted like this didn’t exist and tried to convince me it was deleted or smth so I’m gonna post it now while I can actually see it anyways appreciate shouchako friendship!!

#uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #did I cry over my own headcanons? ...perhaps #and yeah ik there’s a lot of Mido and Iida in here too but I love the izukrew 🥺#I’m so mad I had more but tumblr crashed and I forgot some >:////#anyways PLEASE join me in my shouchako friendship brainrot I care them and I wish they got to be better friends in canon #oh btw this isn’t meant to be ship but I don’t particularly care if you want to tag it as such

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happyandticklish · 3 years

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Experiment Gone Wrong

Summary: Izaya decides to conduct an experiment to test humanity’s morality, but forgets to factor Shizuo into his calculations.

Contrary to what most would be led to believe, Shizuo was a morning person. He enjoyed strolling the busy streets of Ikebukuro, unusually abandoned in the early twilight of morning. Everything was quiet and he could finally be left alone with his thoughts. His hands were buried in his pockets and he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes to revel in it.

“Good morning, Shizu-chan~!”

Shizuo’s eyes snapped open, his peace and quiet gone. He spun towards the sound of the voice, his hands already curling into fists. The sight he was greeted with, however, was so absurd that for a moment he almost forgot his anger.

Izaya was pinned against one of the many lampposts littering the town, rope curling up his legs and torso. The bondage ended in both his wrists and ankles, each of which had additional rope further securing him fully and completely to the pole. His arms were raised far above his head, his body stretched taut against the pole. The barest hint of his stomach peeked out as his shirt was raised from the position.

Izaya himself seemed unconcerned about the position. “I didn’t peg you as someone who goes on walks. Enjoying the beautiful morning as well?”

“What are you doing?” Shizuo growled, ignoring his words. Somehow the sight of Izaya so vulnerable made him even angrier; like fate was taunting him or something. “Why are you tied to a pole, flea bastard?”

Izaya arched an eyebrow. “This? This is merely a science experiment, my dear Shizuo. I wanted to see what people would do if they found someone in a helpless situation such as this. See, I am perfectly aware of all the downgrades of humanity, but I wanted to see it to its full extent: when faced with someone who is so completely vulnerable, will people choose to help or to take advantage of the situation?”

Shizuo slowly walked towards him, stopping just a few feet away. He glanced up and down, unimpressed. “You know, this is possibly the stupidest thing you have ever done.” He grinned, shaking his head. “I mean, what’s your plan if someone does take advantage of you?”

“I have Shinra on look-out,” Izaya replied breezily, twisting a bit to get comfortable. His shirt rode up further and Shizuo felt something twinge inside him. He clenched his fists, trying not to let it get to him. “He and Celty will of course step in if anything gets too out of hand.” Hidden inside of his palm, invisible to Shizuo, was a button that, should he press it, would immediately alert Shinra that he was in distress. “Why?” He smiled cheekily. “Are you worried about me?”

“As if I’d be worried about worthless scum like you,” Shizuo scoffed, but his real answer was clear from the way he couldn’t meet Izaya’s eyes.

“Aw, you were!” Izaya cooed. “That’s adorable, really, but I can handle myself.”

Shizuo frowned, slowly circling the pole. Izaya watched him with a pleasant expression all the while, eyebrows raised in expectation. Shizuo stopped behind him, his eyes trained on the other man’s exposed hips. He was finding it incredibly distracting for some reason.

“While I appreciate the attention, I do have to ask you what you are doing—”

Izaya broke of suddenly, slamming his mouth shut. Shizuo’s hands now rested on his hips where just a moment ago they had been digging into the slender skin. “Interesting,” he murmured. “So you are ticklish.”

“I am what?” Izaya demanded irritably. He shifted under his hands, trying to ignore the way his skin buzzed nervously, an aftereffect of the earlier touch. “I am going to have to ask you to let go of me.”

“I thought you could handle yourself,” Shizuo pointed out, grinning as the reality of their situation set in. He drummed his fingers against the other’s sides, enjoying the way it made Izaya squirm.

“I can,” Izaya snapped. “Obviously.”

“Then make me let go of you,” Shizuo said, squeezing his hips once more. “Get out of the ropes. Call for help.”

Izaya’s face contorted as he fought not to laugh. He tugged at the rope, hoping to do just that, but very quickly realized just how tight Shinra had tied the knots. He twisted around for a bit, hoping to shimmy out of them, but as they crossed over his torso, legs, wrists, and ankles, escape was veritably impossible. That left only one option—he had to wait Shizuo out. If he could hold out long enough to convince the blond that he wasn’t ticklish, maybe he would let him go.

He had endured far worse than this. Surely he could handle a little bit of tickling.

For the first thirty seconds Izaya managed to tense up his body and breathe through his nose as Shizuo experimentally poked up and down his torso. It tickled, but not as much as it could; he had a feeling Shizuo was just toying with him for right then. Because Izaya was Izaya, however, he could not resist throwing out a couple of taunts as Shizuo continued his search.

“Why are you so interested in tickling me, anyway?” Izaya asked, his cheeks flushing a bit at the word. Luckily Shizuo was behind him and didn’t notice. “Isn’t that a bit childish?”

“Yeah, well, you’re basically an adult child anyway,” Shizuo snarked, his pokes growing more calculated as time grew on, so that each one sent a shock through Izaya’s nervous system. “Besides, I think you being ticklish is nice; it’s like a reminder that you’re actually human like the rest of us.”

“I resent that i-implication,” Izaya retorted, flinching as Shizuo needled the spot right under his ribs. “And like I said, I am not ti—”

His sentence was interrupted by wild and sudden laughter as Shizuo decided in that moment to stop fooling around. He crawled his fingers around his sides to his exposed stomach and started rapidly spidering his fingers over the bare skin. His touch was light enough so as not to be painful, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still tickle like hell.

Izaya was very embarrassed to hear the stream of giggles falling from his lips, an unfortunate reaction to that spot. If he had been free to curl up or been given free use of his hands, Izaya might have been able to stop himself from reacting so violently. As it was, he found himself quickly dissolving at the rapid movements from Shizuo’s skilled hands.

“Not what?” Shizuo asked, switching to just one hand so he could cup the other around his ear. “Not ticklish? Is that what you were going to say?”

“I-Ihihihi’m nohohot!” Izaya insisted, his face going bright pink as he fought to resist his body’s natural reactions. “I’m l-laughing ahahat you, y-you ohohoaf!”

“Mm-hmm,” Shizuo hummed, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Inwardly, Izaya thrummed with a strange, excited energy and he found that he almost didn’t want the other to stop. He decided to dismiss these feelings as laughter-induced delirium.

As much as Izaya was struggling, it was evident that his stomach was not his worst spot and Shizuo wanted to take full advantage of this perfect situation. He slid his hands down so that nails fluttered lightly against Izaya’s hips, causing the other man to splutter over his laughter. He allowed him to linger for a moment in the feather-light sensations before squeezing harshly, his thumbs digging into the bone.

Izaya yelped, his struggling instantly intensifying. “HAHAhaha, w-whahahait, nohohohoho, dohohon’t!” He tugged desperately at his arms, but they refused to come to his aid. He banged his head back against the pole in frustration, arching as much as the ropes allowed him. “Fuhuhuhuhuck!”

“Don’t? So keep going then.” Shizuo was reveling in this display. He had never heard Izaya laugh before, only receiving derisive chuckles or snorts of incredulity. Eyebrows drawn down in helpless desperation, Izaya’s face was the picture of surrender, a surrender to a sensation greater than himself, and the bubbly laughter ripped from his throat only accentuated this fact. Originally Shizuo had only planned to mess with him for a bit before continuing his walk, but with every squeak and hiccup from Izaya he found himself unable to stop himself from tormenting him further.

Not to mention, it was as if Izaya’s hips were made to fit Shizuo’s fingers, his hands sliding into place like a man returning home after a long journey. Truly, how was he supposed to stop when the other option was so enticing?

“F-Fihihihine!” Izaya admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ihihihi ahahadmit ihihit! I’m t-tihihicklish, ohohohokay?”

Shizuo stopped momentarily, triumphant in his victory. Izaya gasped, taking in breath after shaky breath. Strangely though, he didn’t seem as angry as Shizuo would have thought he would be. There was a lingering smile on his face and a strange expression that, if Shizuo didn’t know better, he would have said was joy.

“There,” Shizuo said, throwing in one last squeeze and delighting in the accompanying shriek. “Was that so hard?”

Izaya finally opened his eyes, having regained enough composure to throw a glare in Shizuo’s direction. “Was that really necessary?”

“You torment me on a daily basis,” Shizuo pointed out. “It’s only fitting that I get you back every once in a while. Besides, I thought you said Shinra was supposed to help if anything happens to you. Why don’t you just call him to get you out of this?”

Izaya flushed, knowing himself the real reason why he had not yet called the scientist for help. “I hardly think I need to call him for something as silly as this. Like I said, I can handle myself.”

Shizuo raised an eyebrow, immediately seeing through his façade. He decided not to call him out on it this time, however, and instead said, “Oh? Like you were handling yourself a minute ago when I had you screaming out obscenities from the tickling that you call ‘silly’?”

If Shizuo’s plan had been to embarrass Izaya to death, he was certainly succeeding. “I was not screaming, thank you very much,” he huffed. “I will admit, it was a bit more… intense than I would have originally thought.”

“Is that so?”

“Still, I have endured far worse than this,” Izaya snipped. “This, comparatively, is nothing.”

“Oh, okay.” Shizuo shrugged genially. “I suppose you’re right. I guess something as simple as tickling couldn’t possibly break the great Izaya Orihara.”

“Exactly,” Izaya said warily.

“So then, something like this wouldn’t bother you at all?”

Izaya’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to question the blond, but before he could get any words out Shizuo had grabbed the backs of both his thighs, fingers digging torturously into the forbidden area. Izaya would have jumped clear out of his skin had it not been for the ropes, and he shrieked, babbling laughter immediately following it.

“Oh, hot spot is it?” Shizuo teased, giving zero prelude as he squeezed that one spot over and over again, giving Izaya no time to form a response let alone focus on anything as complicated as words. “I guess you were wrong, huh? I guess the great Izaya Orihara can be broken by something as simple as tickling. I’ll make sure to note that down. Thank you, this has been a helpful clarification.”

Izaya just barely managed to flip off, an action Shizuo quickly paid him back for.

Five minutes. Five, long, tickle-filled minutes on the back of his thighs that had Izaya a writhing, squealing mess. Not once, however, did he press the button. Not once did he call out for him to stop. Shizuo noticed this, and though he waited for the eventual protest he assumed inevitable, Izaya never gave it. It was impressive, to be sure.

“Ohohohohokay, ohohohokay, ohohohohokay, ohohohohokahahahaHAHAHAY!” Izaya had taken to simply repeating that one word, gripping to it through the unbearable sensations. He tried again and again to accustom himself to the feeling, but every squeeze was like a shock to his nervous system, sending him into a flood of laughter all over again. “S-Shihihihizuo!”

The sound of his name, shrieked amongst giggles and breathy laughter, was ultimately too much for Shizuo and a blush bloomed across his features. He backed off immediately, his head spinning as he fully realized what he had been doing mere seconds ago. Izaya had no idea of his effect on Shizuo, slowly regaining his breath as phantom tickles ran all up and down his legs.

“Are… are you done?” Izaya asked, relieved to be receiving a break but also slightly disappointed that it was over.

Shizuo coughed, trying to cover up the uneasiness growing in his gut. “Uh, yeah. I, uh, have to continue my walk. Places to be, you know?”

“Oh, y-yeah,” Izaya agreed, confused. It was strange to see Shizuo flustered, even stranger due to the fact that he wasn’t sure what had caused it. “You better get back to that.”

“Have fun with your experiment,” Shizuo called as he backed away, mentally kicking himself at how dumb he sounded.

“Right…” Izaya said slowly, twisting his head around to watch him go as a million questions formed in his mind. “I will.”

Shizuo turned on his heel, walking away in a manner that he hoped was nonchalant. He bit his lip, trying to hide the red quickly forming on his face.

Why did Izaya have to be so cute, dammit?

#tickle fic #durarara #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #shizaya #fanfiction #fanfic #durarara!!#tickling #izaya x shizuo

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munchcorner · 3 years

Text

Pastries (SakuAtsu)

Atsumu's a lonely baker who spends most of his time baking. It was his way of coping for when his parents had passed from old age and his brother, Osamu, had gotten married and started a family. He used to be surrounded by so many people he loved, but as time passes and they grew older, their time for each other became limited, leaving Atsumu feeling a little lonely. So, he builds his own bakery to keep him busy and fill his loneliness by interacting with his customers.

Atsumu had fun talking to various people. He's met students who buy his sweets as their reward for themselves for their hard work at school. He's met children who loved his cookies because they looked adorable. He's met lonely adults like him who think that life is boring and is a constant misery. He's met people who were enjoying life. He's met people who are in love and are content with their lives. But the most memorable one was the man with black curly hair and dark emerald eyes.

He was a man who looked like he who saw the world in monochrome. One where he just goes with the flow of life. Even his voice was monotonous when Atsumu strikes a conversation.

"You don't seem like someone who would enjoy cookies shaped like characters," Atsumu comments as he puts the cookies in a box.

"Well, they're not for me. They're for my daughter," The man answers, making Atsumu go, "oh,"

"Yeah, so how much?" The man asks as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket.

"That'll be 4867.52 yen," Atsumu answers and hands the man the box of cookies.

The man pays for it, and just as he turns around to leave, his phone starts to ring, and the man's face immediately lights up at the sight of the name flashing on the screen.

Atsumu wanted to ask if it was his daughter, but he didn't want to be intrusive, so he presses his lips together and remains quiet.

The man answers the call, and Atsumu could hear his daughter's voice, excitedly screaming, "did you buy them?! Did you buy it?! Please tell me you bought them! Please! Please! Please!"

The man chuckles as he pulls on the door, "Yeah, I have it, don't worry,"

Atsumu watched as the man walk away. He places his hands on the counter and softly smiles all to himself, "I wonder what it's like to have someone who looks forward to seeing you come home?"

The loneliness Atsumu had been feeling comes back after that little encounter, but it became stronger when he got home. He immediately dialed Osamu's number, hoping that maybe he's free, but he ends up sighing when he was directly sent to voicemail.

Atsumu doesn't leave a message and just ends the call before going to bed.

The next day comes, and the curly-haired man he met yesterday comes to buy a different set of pastries from him.

"So, did your daughter like it?" Atsumu asks as he packages the cupcakes the man just bought.

"She loved it," The man answers shortly, but unlike before, now he has this small little smile on his lips as he answers.

Atsumu hums in delight and gives the man the cookies, "I'm glad to hear that,"

A month passes with the man buying different types of pastries from him. They'd have small conversations from time to time, and as the days turn to months, they slowly started talking about more personal stuff.

Atsumu finally learned what the man's name was after three months of constantly talking to each other. His name's Sakusa Kiyoomi, a dashing name just like the person itself, but aside from Kiyoomi, he also learned his daughter's name, Sakusa Sayomi.

"Sayomi said she wanted to meet you," Kiyoomi says as he watches Atsumu put the cake in a velvet box.

"Oh, is that so?" Atsumu asks and puts a ribbon on the box.

"Yeah, if that's alright with you," Kiyoomi says as he takes the box and takes out his wallet to pay for the cake, "it's fine if you're not okay with it,"

"Are you kidding me? I'd love to meet her! I'm actually amazed that it took you three months to bring her here because you talk about her a lot," Atsumu says with a chuckle.

Kiyoomi puffs his cheeks and looks at his feet in embarrassment.

Adorable. Atsumu thinks.

"Do I really talk that much?" Kiyoomi asks, his cheeks flushed red and his fingers pulling on his slacks.

"Yeah," Atsumu answers, "so, when can I meet her?"

"What about tomorrow? Is that a good time?" Kiyoomi asks.

"Yeah, I'm cool with that,"

And with that, they finally bid their goodbyes.

The next day arrives, and Kiyoomi enters the bakery with an eight-year-old child holding his hand. She had this huge smile on her face as she enters, and her eyes immediately brightened up when she saw the pastries.

"Daddy! Look at the Kirara-designed cake!" Sayomi beams and pulls Kiyoomi to the cakes.

Atsumu chuckles as he watches Sayomi pull Kiyoomi around. She was like a bouncing ray of sunshine, and Atsumu couldn't help but wonder what it'll be like if he had a daughter.

Kiyoomi and Sayomi roamed the bakery jumping from one pastry to another until Kiyoomi finally pulls Sayomi to Atsumu, "Sayomi, this is Atsumu, the man who makes all the pastries you eat every day,"

Sayomi's eyes shine, and she lets go of Kiyoomi to run to Atsumu and hold his hands, "this hands,"

"What about them?" Atsumu asks and crouches down to be on the same level as her.

"I'm thankful for them because they make me my favorite treats," She answers and smiles at Atsumu.

"What about me? You're not thankful for me?" Atsumu asks and points at himself with a pout.

Sayomi chuckles and pulls Atsumu into a hug which surprises him, "of course, I'm most thankful for you because you make my treats and make daddy happy,"

Atsumu didn't expect what he heard, and so did Kiyoomi because when Atsumu raises his head to look at Kiyoomi, his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed.

"How do I make your daddy happy?" Atsumu asks without breaking eye contact with Kiyoomi.

"By talking to him, silly. You see, daddy had been very sad lately, but ever since he started buying treats from you, he comes home happier," Sayomi says and pulls away, "that's why I wanted to meet you, Atsumu-san,"

Atsumu doesn't know how to respond properly, so he ruffles her hair and says, "I'm glad I can make your daddy happy,"

The rest of the day proceeds, with Atsumu, Kiyoomi, and Sayomi sharing a meal they prepared in the kitchen. It was already late when they finished talking, and Atsumu didn't want them to leave eating nothing but pastries, so he offers to cook them. But he didn't expect them to help.

The kitchen was too small for all three of them, but it was fun nonetheless. Atsumu found out that Kiyoomi cooks for them, but his knowledge in cookies was limited to a few kinds of pasta, ramen, and a few dishes. So, Atsumu decided to cook something Kiyoomi didn't know how to prepare so he and Sayomi could learn.

That night Sayomi and Kiyoomi leave with some leftovers from their dinner.

"Thanks for the meal, Atsumu," Kiyoomi says shyly while Sayomi waits in the car.

"it's nothing. I had fun," Atsumu says.

The atmosphere around them turned a bit awkward after what Sayomi said about Atsumu making Kiyoomi happy. But the awkward silence didn't last when Kiyoomi said, "Why don't we go out next time? All three of us,"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Atsumu asks, and Kiyoomi nods, "my invitation sucks, but I'm hoping you'd say yes,"

Atsumu laughs and takes a step towards Kiyoomi, "I'd love that," he whispers and kisses Kiyoomi's cheek.

Atsumu steps away and sees Kiyoomi staring at the ground with his cheeks flushed, "oh, Omi-kun, that was just a kiss on the cheek,"

"Shut up!" Kiyoomi says and turns away, "anyway, I'll come by tomorrow to pick you up,"

"Sounds good to me. See you tomorrow, Omi-kun," Atsumu says with a smile.

"See you tomorrow, Atsumu,"

The next day arrives, and Kiyoomi does pick Atsumu up with Sayomi. The date was fun, and it made Atsumu feel like they were a family. That one date alone was enough to make Atsumu feel happy and less lonely. But that loneliness stopped coming when Kiyoomi constantly asked him out on dates.

Every month, Kiyoomi would ask Atsumu out on a date. Sometimes, they'd bring Sayomi with them. Sometimes, it'll just be them. The dates were fun, and it made Atsumu feel happy and full. Kiyoomi and Sayomi shooed away the loneliness Atsumu had been feeling ever since his adulthood.

But sometimes, Atsumu would wonder how long it'll last.

The day came when Kiyoomi stopped visiting the bakery. Atsumu thought maybe Kiyoomi was just busy. But the text messages became lesser with each passing day until all Atsumu receives are good mornings and goodnights. It scared Atsumu that maybe Kiyoomi was over it. That Atsumu didn't make Kiyoomi happy anymore.

But after three weeks of Kiyoomi being cold, he asks Atsumu to meet him at their favorite restaurant. This made Atsumu think, "ah, he's finally breaking up with me," and despite the pain in his chest, Atsumu goes to visit him.

Atsumu arrives, thinking this would be the last time he'd ever meet Kiyoomi and Sayomi again. So, he was surprised when the lights opened, and all he saw were Kiyoomi and Sayomi standing in the middle.

"Kiyoomi, what's happening?" Atsumu asks, but Kiyoomi didn't answer. Instead, their families came out, each holding a letter to form the sentence, "will you marry me, Atsumu?"

Atsumu was stunned, and he didn't know what to do. He ended up staring at the words in front of him until Kiyoomi walks up to him and takes his hand before kneeling down.

"Everything might seem too fast to you. We've only been dating for a year, and yet here I am on my knees, asking you to marry me," Kiyoomi starts and kisses Atsumu's hand with quivering lips, "but you make me and Sayomi so happy that I think this is the only way for all three of us to be happy together for the rest of our lives,"

Atsumu's tears start to fall as he waits for Kiyoomi to continue.

"It's so bold of me to assume that we give you the same happiness you give us, but you just seem to smile brighter when you're with us. So, I'm taking this risk and asking you to marry me, Atsumu," Kiyoomi ends and raises his head to look at Atsumu.

"You idiot, who acts so cold to their significant other when they're about to propose, huh?" Atsumu asks and jokingly kicks Kiyoomi's knee, "you suck at this. You should've been sweeter, not cold,"

Kiyoomi chuckles, "I'm sorry,"

"I would've said yes if you weren't so cold, you know," Atsumu says, making Kiyoomi panic.

"So, are you saying no?" Kiyoomi asks and gulps.

"I'm thinking about it," Atsumu jokes.

But Sayomi seemed to have taken it seriously because she runs to Atsumu, clings on his pants, and says, "please, don't say no, Atsumu. I really want you to be my papa,"

Sayomi had tears in her eyes as she said it and made Atsumu's heart clench.

"I was just joking, Sayomi. I'd love to be part of your family. It's just that you're dad is terrible at this," Atsumu says after kneeling down and hugging Sayomi.

Atsumu can hear the sigh of relief Kiyoomi had put out and laughs before turning to Kiyoomi, "you're lucky Sayomi's here to make up for your coldness,"

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at Atsumu's words, "right like you didn't want to marry me in the first place,"

"Why are you suddenly so cocky?" Atsumu asks in disbelief, "it's because you already said yes,"

Kiyoomi smirks at him and takes his right hand to put the ring on his finger and placing a kiss on it, "thank you for saying yes, Atsumu,"

Atsumu smiles, "No, I'm glad you asked me to marry,"

And ever since then, Atsumu didn't have to wonder what it'll be like to have someone waiting for you at home because now he comes home to his husband and their daughter.

--*--

I also have this posted on Twitter.

#sakuatsu #atsumu x sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #haikyuu #haikyū!!#hq #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu x sakusa

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omniswords · 3 years

Text

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why… are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

“You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well… you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #HELL YEAH LUKA THAT'S MY BOY

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Note

Hello yes, could you elaborate on the Comte wedding event pleease. Crying and fangirling and dying are all acceptable. I missed it and I adore your rambles about Comte? Thank you either way.

!!! I’d be delighted to!! And awww, I’m so glad :D I love to write about him in any capacity, it makes me so happy to know people enjoy it when I do! Tysm for the full license to cry/fangirl/die because lbr it ain’t a Comte event if all three of those things don’t happen .Please don’t worry, I don’t mind talking abt it anyway! 💕💕💕

Okay my fellow Comte stans, you know the drill! I’ll be placing the details of the Wedding Story Event (jpn version) below the cut! Please don’t read if you want to wait for the official translation, and I hope you enjoy if you do take a peak! c:

AIGHT Y’ALL in fair Verona where we lay our scene-- This event begins on a lovely summer day with Comte and MC at a boutique picking out a wedding dress for their upcoming ceremony. As usual, she provides a bit of background as to how we got here. Comte doesn’t have a proposal event (as far as I know) like the other suitors because he actually proposes marriage in his MS. I won’t go too far into details just in case, but they essentially swear their love to each other in a church at night--just the two of them. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think this event takes place on the anniversary of the vow that they shared, what Comte called becoming “a vampire’s bride.” Yes it’s as hot as it sounds AND I LOVED IT). Now, despite their private promise to each other, Comte does specify that he fully intends to have a public wedding whenever she feels comfortable doing that. As such, this event is picking up from there.

With all the nitty gritty settled, it’s time to get to the fun bits. So Comte is weaving in and out of the dresses, trying to find the perfect one for his beloved. MC is equal parts exasperated but amused, and she notes that it reminds her so much of when she first debuted in high society (reference to the beginning of Comte’s MS). Back then, when she agreed to debut, he told her that he would immediately send word to his tailor to make the necessary preparations. It’s a kind of nostalgic moment; she remembers how thorough and excited he was (”I’ll be sure to show off your every charm”), and he’s effusing that energy in the boutique too. Eventually he settles on two of them and requests that they both be prepared, and MC sputters. She’s like Comte???? W H Y we only need one dress???? And he insists that, since it’s a special occasion, there’s no harm in it is there? He also goes on to say that it is in line with her culture’s tradition of “dyeing the bride in the husband’s colors.” MC shoots back that the tradition doesn’t entail several wedding dresses for the bride, but he pays the correction no mind. Y’all. I loved this part because it just emphasizes how much of a LIL SHIT he can be. Like he’s 100% harmless but I was like BOI IF U DON’T--I WILL KISS UR CUTE FACE. YOU STOP THAT.

I find it interesting especially because it remains in line with a trend about Comte that is so arresting for me, something that I find so endearing about him. I’ll note other places in the event I find it, but in this moment he is revealing something critical: for all of his capacity to play with the language and expectations that other people have/use, he only ever uses it for good. Here he’s purely being playful (with a stark note of respect and awareness); he has no intention of overwhelming her or undermining her cultural expectations of what a wedding means. Especially because MC, even in her monologue, isn’t truly upset--she honestly seems to find it adorable and funny more than anything. It’s also clear that Comte is working within her comfort zones. While he would buy the entire damn boutique if she let him, he settles on two because he knows it would stress her out otherwise (MC tends to be p pragmatic, not really about extravagance she is a mood).

And so they make their selection and exit the boutique, and they’re walking arm in arm back to the carriage. Comte laments narrowing it down to only two, but he’s happy they found something nice. MC thanks him for bringing her along, but he says it’s only natural--he wanted to pick out the dress the world would see together, he would never be happy with it otherwise. MC melts (WHO WOULDN’T) and says she’s really looking forward to wearing them, and he’s shook AF.

(OKAY BUT I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS. DOES HE UNDERSTAND HOW TOUCHED I AM. DOES HE KNOW. His route hammers home this idea that for Comte, being with someone absolutely means being on the same page. It means being there for each other yes--but it also means making sure the other person feels wanted and included. He could have so easily just picked his favorite and been like “yeah this is what we’re going with.” But not only does he not do that, he refuses the very idea of a ceremony without it. He wants this to mean something for both of them, and he’s more than willing to put in the time and effort to ascertain that. I’M FUCKING TENDER OKAY. HE CARES SO MUCH AND I SOB)

He asks her if there’s anything else that she really, really wants for their wedding, and she thinks it through. It’ll be a reasonably sized wedding, with the men of the mansion in attendance and most of their closer high society friends. They’ve picked out a dress, the venue is set, the people closest to her will be there...she really can’t think of anything else? So she asks him if he has anything he really wants to do for the wedding, and he replies in the negative too, saying that “My only ideal wedding can be one in which I can see you at your most happy." ARE YOU KIDDING ME--Before MC can recover from that, he goes on: "Even now, I'm enjoying the preparations, and I want to do whatever I can for you." MC feels like she can never win against his sweet affection, so she nearly kills him with her answering line: "It’s more than enough. More than anything, being able to swear our love together again--to renew our vow--is the best part of it all." Comte is visibly shocked and is quiet for moment (MAN DOWN!!!!!!!!! VAMPIRE DOWN GET THE DEFIBRILATORS!!!!! LEONARDO PUT THAT LIGHTNING ROD AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD--) before he just replies with a “Is that so :>>>” And translating this nearly killed me [At the sight of his gentle smile, I smile back.] IM GOING TO SCREAM THEY ARE JUST SO TENDER IM SOFTE????????????

As they’re walking, Comte asks MC to tell him about weddings in her time. What were they like? He wants a reference point. She goes on to describe how ceremonies really range from formal to more informal affairs, and gets to a little custom that’s apparently held in Japan. When a groom intends to marry a bride, he will go to the bride’s family to ask for their approval. Comte visibly seems concerned about it, and I’m pretty sure he feels bad denying her that experience; not only did he propose to her without knowing any of that, her family isn’t within range to be able to honor it properly now. Even so, he keeps listening and comments now and again with a great deal of interest, paying close attention. He asks, what happens if the groom is rejected by the family? MC goes on to say that it’s a kind of test of perseverance: the groom is expected to ask/prove himself until he gets an answer in the affirmative. Internally, she notes that such a thing rarely ever happens irl--it’s mostly dramatized in movies and TV shows. She used to dream of how thrilling it might be to have someone do that for her, but it was mostly just a silly little fancy, nothing she was obsessed over. Comte, being a literal fucking legend, senses this emotional shift in milliseconds, and starts musing about something. When she tries to ask what’s up, he’s like not to worry leave everything to me.

PLEASE CUE THE CIRCUS MUSIC. BECAUSE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO TURN INTO A CLOWN FEST.

So it cuts to them back home and Comte is asking Sebastian to give MC’s hand in marriage. Sebastian is utterly bEWILDERED and is like “I mean I understand I’m probably the closest relative she has right now but also WHAT!? YOU’RE MY BOSS/LORD I’M YOUR BUTLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. Comte 100% is undaunted by this very normal reaction and insists that class/status has no place in matters like this, and Sebastian and MC are desperately trying to stop him from bowing his head/kneeling. MC notes she never expected him to take it to heart, tells him "Comte, you really don't have to go that far, it's a custom not a duty--" (IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY????? YOU CAN FEEL THEIR MOUNTING CONCERN AND I CAN’T BELIEVE COMTE WAS STRAIGHT UP JUST “i am not above begging” AND THEY’RE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE YOU SHOULD BE ABOVE BEGGING)

The circus only escalates when Leo comes in LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF "damn...bahahahhahahaaaaa now THIS oughtta be good/interesting." MC (and I simultaneously) start yelling at him and he replies "What? Comte's already ready and willing, why stop him?" For whatever reason, this gives Comte an idea (NEVER A GOOD SIGN) and he’s like you know what? That’s actually perfect, get everybody in here I’m gonna ask them for permission too :D

Several things I want to say about this. 1. COMTE LITERALLY DOES NOT EVEN REACT TO LEO’S MOCKING HE JUST “omg ur face was useful for smth for once this gives me an idea” 2. META TIME. First and foremost, I seriously can’t deal. This man knows MC has nothing because of her traveling through time, no friends or family--he’s always so, so aware of what she’s sacrificing to be with him. It is never outside of his thinking. Not only does this decision solidify her presence as a member of their family (I’m just so UGLY SOBBING about the fact that he does not consider them all ANYTHING LESS--THEY ARE HIS CHIRREN AND HE LOVES THEM AND I’M SOFT) this is also such a brilliant, strategic move on his part. Not only is he doing this to fulfill her younger wishes of having someone be so confident in their love for her that they would insist on it in front of her family/loved ones--his doing this also solidifies her presence as his wife within the mansion from here on. There can be no mistake; this is an unquestionable statement as to how her identity has shifted in meaning, a powerful allusion to his possessive streak. (and WE LOVE THAT FOR US HELL YEAH)

Furthermore, I continue to be fascinated by the way he keeps subverting traditional or expected forms of supplication. While many could see this as a yielding of his pride (and in some ways he undeniably is) this choice to acknowledge her culture’s customs yields much more valuable dividends for him. 1. MC--notorious for never betraying the things she wants, having trouble asking for anything--is have her dreams fulfilled even if they were just silly little fantasies from when she was young. He’s actively making her happy, and he gets to openly gush about how much he loves her (FOR HIM THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF A WIN-WIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND--) 2. This is a way for him to make amends and do proper respect to the marriage customs of her place/time, and that’s infinitely important to him. He’s trying to set a precedent; that even if he ever does make a mistake or neglect something (even if accidental) he will do his utmost to make it right, pride and money be DAMNED.

While it can be argued that he’s just being silly and over-the-top, when you look closely this is 100% a clever, very mindful approach to their future. While it may partially have been executed on an emotional/excited whim, he is also claiming MC as his own in the most clear and respectful way possible. And tbh that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

So, after Leo walks in on them everyone else starts filing in one at a time (OKAY YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME THAT THEY WEREN’T ALL HUDDLED UP TO THE DOOR SQUIRMING TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON AND AT SOME POINT LEO SAID “omfg i gotta see this dumbass bitch on his knees” AND BLEW THEIR COVER/MADE THEM EVEN MORE CURIOUS):

Jeanne: "It's so noisy in here."

Mozart: "What's going on?"

Comte: "Ah, excellent timing. I want to get permission from everyone."

Vincent: "?????? Did you do something wrong Comte?? What could you possibly need forgiveness for?"

Isaac: "A mistake made/wrongdoing by Comte?...Why am I dreading what it could be..."

Dazai: “Ah yes, yes I see, you are asking for a young lady's hand in marriage” (IM WHEEZING BC EVERYONE ELSE IS SO LOST AND HE'S JUST 100% ON THE BALL KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON THE NARRATIVE DISSONANCE IM CRYING)

Theo: Young lady??? The hell are you going on about

So things are getting increasingly chaotic and MC is just [jfc this is getting out of hand, Comte they don’t even know what you’re asking them to do]. She tries to explain but falters, and Comte puts an arm around her--signals that he’ll give them the context. So he tells them "You all know that our wedding day is approaching. As such, I'm asking you all for your approval in taking MC as my bride. No matter what happens, I promise to make her happy forever--for every moment, every second of our time together. Please, forgive my taking her" (WHEN I TELL YOU MY HEAD WAS IN MY HANDS IDK HOW MC DIDN’T DIE ON THE SPOT S I R. SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) MC: [...Comte...My heart melts at his confession, at his earnest plea. It feels like every single iota of our feelings are infused in every word he speaks, teeming with the love shared between us in overwhelming measure.]

For a little while silence falls until Napoleon speaks up, and honestly? It was so sweet ;-; I tear up every single time: “Forgiven. You know how much I dislike formalities anyway. And besides, who could say no to le Comte?” MC notes that everyone murmurs in agreement and a kind of warmth settles in the room. Arthur notes that MC will be a Comtesse very soon and MC just. I’m going to be a WHAT now (”C-c-comtesse??”). And it’s so FUCKING FUNNY YOU CAN FEEL THE RED EYE EDIT MEME ON COMTE WHEN HE GOES “Oh? Is there anything wrong with that? Everybody said yes, after all :>” MC internally accuses them of ganging up on her, but reveals that more than anything she’s a little overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the best way:

MC: [Overwhelmed with feeling; touched, a little shy, embarrassed, but also full of joy--my eyes burn at the edges with tears] “I'm glad everyone approves c:”

Comte: Agreed :> your country/homeland has a nice custom. A v important step to inviting my loved one into my life as my wife :>>>>

So it then cuts to them in Comte’s room after the circus and MC thanks him for the sweet confession in front of everyone, tells him how happy it made her. He insists that it was only natural he would, and that it isn’t even enough.

Comte: “I am the one...your life, your time as a human being; I'll be taking all of it from you.”

MC: [...Comte? He took my hand with a very serious expression]

Comte: "As I said before, I will make you a vampire someday."

MC: “Don't call it that--a price. I want to live with you too!”

MC notes that while she hasn’t made the leap yet, she knows she’ll be ready for it soon enough.

Comte: “Thank you. But the last thing I want is to take things from you, I want to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you smile. Whether that means weddings, requests--anything in my power.”

COMTE REALLY SAID "she is entrusting me with her future and that means I have the responsibility of not only ascertaining her happiness, but proving my unwavering devotion to it" AND IM HOLLERING????? LADIES GET YOU A FUCKING MANS. MC finally begins to understand this, and she’s like OMFG is that why you went off so hard this afternoon???? And Comte’s like :>>>> guilty as charged, though I think I'm also just still excited about the wedding too, haha! They hug it out (YESSSSSSS LET ME H O L D) and MC asks him again if there’s anything he wants for the wedding too. Aight y’all I would be irresponsible if I didn’t warn you beforehand, get fucking tissues. I’m still upset abt his answer and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He thinks about it for a bit, before kissing her forehead and saying “I suppose, can you pray for my happiness too? That's enough."

AIGHT IMMA GO BACK TO THE EVENT IN A SECOND BUT I GOTTA SAY. BITCH. BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? COMTE THAT ISN’T OPTIONAL THAT’S A GOD DAMN PREREQUISITE?????????????????? OFC WE WISH FOR YOUR HAPPINESS WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? THE A U D A C I T Y. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE INSULTED IN ALL MY LIFE. OKAY RANT OVER.

MC is surprised but naturally agrees to it, having wanted that for him even without prompting. She continues to think on it, insisting that she wants to do something for him too. An idea sparks but it only says that she made preparations without telling him anything for now, preparing a tangible sign of her love for the wedding.

The premium end begin here. She’s getting dressed for the wedding, and she’s--as usual--in awe of his perfect selection of accessories/jewelry to go with the gown. She’s about to put on her shoes when she notices something odd, and there’s a knock at the door. Comte enters to ask if she’s ready, and they both freeze and stare at each other. They both sheepishly admit to being completely taken with the sight of the other, and they laugh about it together. Comte tries to ask if she’s ready again, and she assures him that she is--just that she found something unexpected in her shoes.

He explains that the coin is an English six pence. Sebastian told him that they are no longer made in her time, and Comte explains he acquired it about three hundred years ago in England when he was living there (he says that he kept it back then because he liked the design on it). He explains that there is a tradition, that the English would put a six pence in a bride’s left shoe in the hopes of wishing her good fortune and prosperity in her oncoming union. MC has her understandable and customary (JESUS I FORGET HOW OLD THIS MAN IS SOMETIMES) and he places a hand over hers that’s holding the coin when she starts staring at it.

Comte: "Hey, MC....Time goes by, and various things will continue to change. Among them, it is only vampires who survive without dying or changing."

MC: "Comte..."

Comte: "I used to think that made it--made us--empty. But...I don't think that's the case anymore. I'm proud of being able to keep this undying, unchanging love for you."

[He put the coin back in my left shoe, and offered them to me--gentle as though they were made of glass(Cinderella's)]

MC spends this exchange on the verge of tears, but keeps it together for the wedding. It depicts their loved ones all around them as they walk down the aisle, and skips to the end of the ceremony. The priest tells Comte he may now kiss the bride (WHEN I WAS TRANSLATING IT SAID “KISS YOUR BUSINESS” AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WHEEZED), but just as he’s about to lift her veil--she stops him in his tracks. He’s confused, and says her name, but she reassures him that she just wants to offer him a wedding gift before he lifts it. Hidden in her bouquet are two pins that she had made, and she pins them to his jacket. They were made from preserved flowers, encased in metal to render them undying/everlasting.

MC: [Me too...I want to wish for your happiness...]

MC: “For you, things might feel fleeting--like they just pass you by, are lost before you can grasp them. But even so, my feelings won't change; just like this preserved/undying flower and the life of a vampire--dedicated to [Comte's real name] in everlasting love."

COMTE.EXE HAS CURRENTLY SHUTDOWN. REBOOTING.

MC notes that his eyes get misty and he leans his forehead against hers.

MC: [Comte's real name]?

Comte: .................I want to hug you as tight as I possibly can, but I'd hate to ruin the flowers/your gift to me

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. WHEN I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. I CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT HER GIFT IS NOT ONLY CANON BUT ITS LITERALLY ON HIS WEDDING SPRITE, HER LOVE IS A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION ON HIS PERSON ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2. THE FACT THAT SHE ONLY ADMITS TO BEING THE HAPPIEST SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE SEES HIM SO HAPPY TOO. THIS IS SO MUCH. SO M U C H

And so Comte lifts her veil and kisses her gently uwu cover ur eyes chirren, the hall erupts in raucous applause and the crowd starts congratulating them!! Comte then encourages everyone to have fun, and the reception takes on the vibe of a kind of social gathering. MC notes that he seems to prefer this level of interaction, just relaxed and everyone chill, and she turns to tell him that it seems like it’ll be fun! Before she can finish her sentence, he kisses her fiercely before leaning back with a sigh, "It's still not enough, but I'll save the rest for later tonight." BITCH!!?!?!??!??!? HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE FOCUS ON A STUPID PARTY WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, HELLO???????MC notes: [Everyone from the mansion that saw the kiss made fun of me endlessly, and I hid my face in my bouquet] SAVE HER. Once again, it skips to the end of the reception and they’re now in Comte’s room. (I will blink twice if I think you need tissues BLINKS TWICE)

Comte: "Yup, perfect." [He places the flower pins I gave him next to THE hourglass in the room, looking pleased HNGNNGNGNNGGNGN MY EYE HOLES ARE SUFFERING

MC: "I'm glad you liked the gift c:"

Comte: "It is proof of your unchanging love, of course I cherish it :>"

She’s just so happy to see him so delighted with it. He asks how she liked the ceremony, and she gushes about how much she loved it. He hugs her (AWWWWWWWWWWWW) and then he notes that while it was fun to celebrate, all he wants now is time with his wife (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA). He starts kissing her like the world is ending, and she says she needs to get changed--but he doesn’t care, says she’s fine as she is and that he wants her right now.

Aight usually I don’t get into epilogue territory, but honestly, this shit was JUST too good. Now this man made of magic asks MC if she’s wearing her bridal garter (you know, the one that usually comes with the whole bride ensemble in Western tradition). And she’s like ???? Uh, yeah, of course? Why... He says that he saw something interesting at a friend’s wedding reception once upon a time, and explains that the garter is usually removed and thrown to the bachelors (analogous to the bride’s throwing her bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married). PLEASE NOTE HE IS KISSING HER FOR LIKE 90% OF THIS IT’S AMAZING

MC: "So it's like the bouquet toss?"

Comte: "Yes. Now then, how did he remove the garter...?”

HE DUCKS DOWN AND SHE’S LIKE COMTE!?!?

Comte: “...Ah yes, the groom removes it with his teeth >:D”

And so this man HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE tugging it down slowly under her dress, caressing her legs and loving every part of her. MC’s face is on fire, and she’s torn between being turned on and embarrassed. Eventually he reappears after teasing her MERCILESSLY and admits that he didn’t do it at the reception because he didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction. Blushing, shy, desirous--all of these feelings are his to keep and enjoy. (I!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!!!! HOW SUBTLY POSSESSIVE HE IS AAAAAAAAAA) MC notes internally that she feels the same way about him, how he only shows this intensely passionate side to her. Comte is uncharacteristically impatient and frenzied that night, and they both go at it.

It skips to midnight where the two are cuddling in the aftermath, just being cute and happy. Comte, the absolute MADLAD is already thinking about how to celebrate next year--and she just giggles at him (he’s a wackadoo but he’s her wackadoo LMFAO MOOD) and he laughs with her. They essentially swear to promise their love over and over in the future, and it just ends on that wholesome note :>>>

Also can I just. The fact that he lived for so long alone, but was always, always paying attention to all of these little things that are done with a person’s loved one ;-; that he would remember his friend doing that at his wedding and be like BROOOOO I WANNA DO THAT IF I EVER GET MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!! I just. It’s so heartbreaking and touching at the same time, I just want to hold him forever ;-; the fact that he doesn’t seem to worry as much about his own happiness, seems absolutely floored that MC would do anything in return. I JUST LOVE HIM WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME

THIS IS WHAT PEAK PERFORMANCE LOOKS LIKE

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp wedding event #NOW I CAN REST IN PIECES O-<--<#today on: reasons why i would die for comte no.347 #will i ever stop? no #do i have a problem? probably #but i have a tumblr account and the ability to write and i am making that everyone else's problem fdkjlhgfdjkh #but i hope you enjoyed my rambles!!!#you're always welcome here friend! :D #tho yall story time #when he asked abt the garter i started SCREECHING bc i knew EXACTLY where it was going #in middle school i saw a guy do it once at a wedding but i didnt know what the sex^TM was so i didnt think anything of it #i was like haha weird wedding tradition go brrrr why is everyone whistling #and when i was reading i just immediately was sent back and i was like OMFG HE'S GONNA DO IT ISN'T HE THE WILD MAN #but honestly i cant get over how romantic comte is #he has no necessity to enact all these little rituals--i dont really know if he even believes in any kind of religion at all #(i dont think he does honestly but he never speaks to it directly)#but the thought of sharing that with her #of doing those things to make her happy and express his feelings #it makes me so very softe #i dont even believe in all of those wonderful things and yet he makes me want to humor that kind of belief #also idk why the cuts arent working properly on the tumbles i apologize in advance im trying to figure out why

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zealouswerewolfcollector · 3 years

Text

A Poetry Lesson

Maedhros/Ingwion because why not? This is just silly fun except for the last part, which isn’t fun at all, I have to warn.

On Ao3

At first, Ingwion paid no mind to the air of excitement in the library. It was enough to know that it wasn’t about him; he was a frequent guest here. He also knew that it wasn’t unusual for impromptu poetry discussions to take place here or for scholars to meet for debates. So the prince stayed in his corner, reading the newest poems that had been written down at his request. He wasn’t always able to visit the poetry gatherings, but he didn’t want to miss anything. When he was done, he chose several poems to show his mother and stood.

On his way out, he glanced at the small group gathered around a desk. He knew two of the loremasters; the other three were young, possibly only apprentices. The younger ones were whispering among themselves, while the loremasters were silently watching the elf who was hunched over a scroll, writing or rather drawing something, judging by the careful movements of the quill. One of the apprentices asked a question, and when the elf raised his head to answer, Ingwion, to his surprise, recognized Nelyafinwë, King Finwë’s eldest grandson.

The Noldo was dressed plainly, in dark green and grey; he had no adornment on his head and wore his hair in a simple style—three narrow braids going from each temple to join together on the back of his head, the rest of his hair tumbling freely down his back. Ingwion wondered if he should approach, but Nelyafinwë seemed busy. Ingwion didn’t have much time either; the hour of the mingling was nearing, and he had to be with his family to sing for the waxing of Telperion.

He came back to return the poetry collection he had taken when Laurelin was in full bloom and found Nelyafinwë there again. He was alone this time, but for reasons he didn’t understand, Ingwion still hesitated for a moment before approaching. Nelyafinwë didn’t look surprised as he greeted Ingwion formally but warmly.

“I have seen you here before a few times,” he said when Ingwion took a seat in front of him.

“A few times? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to have seen you a few times,” Nelyafinwë said with a slight smile.

Ingwion was thrown off for a moment by the familiarity in the Noldo’s teasing words but found out that he didn’t dislike it.

“Why didn't you let us know?” he asked. “You could stay with us as long as you wish. Our doors are always open before Finwë’s kin.”

“Thank you, but I have to decline,” Nelyafinwë said. “As tempting as it sounds, I have found a very cozy place to stay in the city. Besides, I am not here as a prince. I have come to help your scholars draw maps of the northern lands.”

“I didn’t know you were an expert in mapmaking.”

“Oh no, I am no expert. I am sure these will get redrawn later. I have traveled quite a lot, though, so I can offer my experience.”

Ingwion looked at the scroll on the desk. “You are being modest, Nelyafinwë. These are very well-drawn.” Nelyafinwë’s smile grew a little brighter, and Ingwion felt strangely proud for causing it. “What region is this?” he asked, pointing at the map.

“This is a cave system in the northern part of the Pelóri,” Nelyafinwë said. “It is so huge that we haven’t reached the end yet. Every time that I go there, I explore a little more and come back to expand the map. It is fascinating. The entrance is hidden from view. We would not have discovered it if not for Aulë. He told my father about it, and we went to explore it. I often go there now. Imagine any cave you have seen. Now imagine it a hundred times more vast and beautiful. Wait, I will sketch it for you.” He drew an uneven line on a free corner of the scroll. “This is going to be redrawn anyway,” he said smiling. “And maybe they will appreciate my drawing.”

Ingwion watched as Nelyafinwë’s hand moved gracefully, and under his quill, various misshapen towers took form, swords hanging from the ceiling, miniature mountain chains, monster teeth, and rock icicles.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Nelyafinwë asked. “I have tried to do it justice.”

“It is,” Ingwion agreed. “Though I cannot imagine spending so much time in a cave, no matter how wondrous the rocks there are.”

“I don’t spend that much time there,” Nelyafinwë said. “That is why this map is still incomplete. There are so many places to go and so many wonders to see. If you go far enough into the north, the stars shine so much brighter. The light of the Trees is just a faint shimmer, and at times the sky itself is painted with many different colors. Words aren’t enough to describe its beauty. Maybe you should give traveling a try? I am sure you would enjoy it.”

“Listening about it is much more enjoyable,” Ingwion said.

“Is it?”

Nelyafinwë’s smile was almost smug, though still kind, and Ingwion sputtered, hurrying to save the situation.

“I only mean that I prefer plains and woods over caves,” he said, though it wasn’t the only thing that he meant. The way Nelyafinwë’s eyes glowed radiantly when he was talking was also very enjoyable. “I would rather stay here and listen to stories about different places, than travel myself. There is no place better than Valmar, no mountain fairer than the Taniquetil.”

“How could you know that if you have not seen the other places?”

“There are a lot of marvelous places to see here.”

“Really?”

Ingwion decided not to take offense because he liked the smile on Nelyafinwë’s lips.

“Obviously,” he said with a smile of his own. “Have you spent all your time here drawing maps?”

“Of course not. There is time for work and time for fun.”

Ingwion didn't know why the way Nelyafinwë said the last word made him shiver.

“Speaking of work,” the Noldo said. “I am done for now.” He seemed to be thinking for a moment. “But I will be here later.”

Ingwion expected him to continue, but Nelyafinwë said nothing else. He only covered Ingwion’s hand with his and squeezed it. Ingwion barely stopped himself from looking down because he knew it would make this situation even odder. Instead, he held his breath and focused his gaze on Nelyafinwë’s face. It seemed too long before the Noldo got to his feet and said his farewells. Ingwion was surprised to find himself still smiling after Nelyafinwë left.

He waited until Telperion waxed and waned twice before he returned to the library. Nelyafinwë was there, as he had promised.

“It looks like you have finished your work,” Ingwion said, noticing the absence of maps on the desk.

Nelyafinwë looked up. “I will be honest. Drawing maps is not the only reason I am here,” he said. “The Library of Valmar has the largest collection of poetry. I enjoy reading it.”

“I am quite sure that you are reading Elemmírë,” Ingwion said, laughing a little.

“Guilty,” Nelyafinwë smiled, raising a book.

“You know she is not the only great poet we have. Every second Vanya tries their hand at it, and many succeed.”

“Is that so? Do you write poetry too?”

“I...” Ingwion didn't know why he was so flustered. Maybe it was because of the intensity in Nelyafinwë's gaze or because of the barest hint of a teasing smile on his lips. “I have written several hymns to Manwë, which my mother put to music.”

“Oh, I would love to read them! Do they have them here?”

“No, no, they aren't good enough to be kept in the library.”

“I truly doubt that. If you want to prove it, you will have to sing them for me.”

Ingwion couldn't tell if the Noldo was serious or not. “Just not in the library, Nelyafinwë,” he joked. “Or the real poets will beat me up with the books.”

Nelyafinwë laughed. A clear, ringing laugh like the bells on the bay tree which grew in front of Ingwion’s window. He had put up the silver and golden bells himself, had added, removed, and replaced them until he had perfected the sound.

“I am too an avid lover of poetry,” Ingwion said before he could regret it. “I can show you works by other poets if you wish.”

He read the surprise in Nelyafinwë's eyes. The Noldo stood. “Lead the way,” he said.

In the back of his head, Ingwion knew that his offer entailed more than poetry books, but he wasn't sure what exactly, was reluctant to think of it. Maybe Nelyafinwë truly only wanted to read poetry, maybe the Noldor were just overly friendly. Yet the other day Nelyafinwë's touch on his wrist lingered for a moment too long.

He walked to a remote corner of the library, away from everyone’s eyes, preferring to ignore the perfectly good poems on closer shelves, acutely aware that Nelyafinwë was just behind him. His heart was fluttering with excitement. When they reached the shelf, he stopped in front of it, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

“Some of my favorites are here,” he said, turning to Nelyafinwë.

He drew a sharp breath. He knew the Noldo had been following him, but he hadn’t expected to find him so close. Nelyafinwë was tall for a Noldo, nearly at height with Ingwion himself, and he was beautiful in a stern, intimidating Noldorin way: high cheekbones, piercing eyes, proud nose. Ingwion felt his heart in his throat. He raised his hand slowly, without fully realizing what he was doing until his fingers were almost touching a long, dark red curl that fell over Nelyafinwë's ear. He stopped himself, feeling suddenly that he couldn’t bear it, that he would be struck by lightning if they touched. The air was as thin as on the peaks of the Taniquetil. He struggled to breathe.

“Nelyafinwë,” was all he managed to gasp.

“You may call me by my mother name,” Nelyafinwë said in a hoarse whisper. “Maitimo.”

“Maitimo,” Ingwion repeated slowly, rolling the name in his mouth, delighted by the way his lips came together and parted, his tongue touched gently the back of his teeth to form the sounds. It made him feel bolder. “Aptly named,” he said.

“Am I,” Maitimo said with the confident smile of someone who knows the answer very well.

“Yes,” Ingwion said anyway. “Thank you for allowing me to use it. Every time I said your father name, it felt like a slight against my cousin.”

Maitimo laughed, and all the tension was suddenly gone. Ingwion was once again reminded of the sound of bells as the bay tree swayed in a warm breeze. He had no idea why he had thought Maitimo's beauty intimidating just a moment ago. It wasn’t. It was gentle like the light of Laurelin after the mingling when there was still just a hint of silver in the gold. The corners of Maitimo’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. Ingwion took Maitimo's curl between his forefinger and thumb. It was soft. He felt lightheaded. He was unafraid in the relative privacy of this little corner, ready to do anything.

“You are not like how I remember you from our last visit to Tirion,” he whispered.

Maitimo tilted his head. “I am different in Tirion. There I am Nelyafinwë, son of Fëanáro, grandson of Finwë. Among the Vanyar, I am not as noticeable. I rather enjoy the anonymity. Here I can be Maitimo, an ordinary Noldo, who has come to draw maps, read poetry and kiss the crown prince.”

Ingwion looked into Maitimo's eyes, barely daring to breathe. “You are falling behind on the last part, aren't you?”

“Then it is time to rectify the mistake, wouldn't you say?”

“I would.”

Ingwion leaned forward and did what he had wanted to do since the first moment he laid eyes on Maitimo. He felt the Noldo’s smile against his lips, his fingers in his hair, his warm breath. He pulled Maitimo closer, shivering when they were chest to chest, sighing when the other elf deepened the kiss. Ingwion forgot for a moment where they were, forgot himself. His spirit was floating, his body was non-existent except where Maitimo’s burning touch connected him to the physical world.

Maitimo broke the kiss but didn’t move away, just turned his head a little, so his lips were now brushing over the shell of Ingwion’s ear. His arms tightened around Maitimo’s back. His awareness was slowly returning, and he was already looking out for every little noise that could disrupt their moment.

“The library isn’t the best place for this,” he said regretfully.

“Not very adventurous, are you?” Maitimo laughed and made no attempt to move.

“I don’t have the luxury of anonymity, Maitimo.”

“Do you have the luxury of privacy? You promised me a song, remember?”

Ingwion didn’t remember promising him, but he still nodded. “Maybe somewhere else,” he said.

“Maybe,” Maitimo whispered. “Maybe you can pay me a visit while I am in Valmar.”

“What did I say about anonymity?” Ingwion laughed. He shifted a little and finally let go of Maitimo, sighing. “You should come to me.”

Maitimo frowned. “I am not enjoying the idea of making small talk with the entire Vanyarin court.”

“I will choose not to be insulted,” Ingwion said. “But that wasn’t what I meant. There is a hidden way to my chamber. You should come straight there.”

“You are adventurous after all,” Maitimo grinned. “I will come. I suppose your chamber is more... comfortable than my lodgings.” He took Ingwion’s hand. “Tell me how to find you,” he whispered and pressed his lips to the inside of his wrist.

It took Ingwion a while to find his voice to answer.

---

His wild look slid over the surrounding warriors as he slowly walked back. Ingwion expected it to linger on himself for a few moments longer, but it didn’t. There was no recognition in those eyes, no hesitation, no fear, nothing except stifling, overwhelming despair. Ingwion found it hard to believe that this was Maitimo.

Maedhros, that was how they called him here. A harsh name in a harsh land. Gone was Maitimo, the silvery sound of the word, gone was the ringing of the bells, gone was the softness around the mouth. He was all sharp angles now, hard lines, bared teeth for a smile, smoldering embers for eyes. His only hand holding the sword wasn’t shaking, and Ingwion knew that he would fight to the death, knew that it was what he wanted.

An image came unbidden to his mind. Maitimo opening an eye, as Ingwion turns on his side and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear; Maitimo raising a brow in amusement, as Ingwion's slightly trembling fingers outline his face, slide along his brow, his cheekbone, leave feathery touches on his soft lips; Maitimo lifting himself up on his elbows, gently pushing Ingwion down by the shoulder and leaning over him, Maitimo's hair a curtain hiding them from the world, as they kiss.

During the long, terrible war, Ingwion had seen the hardness of the people of this land. There was no other way of living under Morgoth’s shadow except turning to stone. Ingwion had gotten used to it to the point that the sweet bells of Valmar seemed a distant dream. Or so he had believed. Now everything inside of him rebelled against the thought, refused to recognize the dazzling prince he had once kissed in the library of Valmar in this ferocious, rugged creature, tempered by loss and defeat.

He wondered if he should go after them, if he should kill Maedhros; wondered if it would be more merciful than what Eonwë had done, but before he could make a decision, the brothers had disappeared, and he knew he would not see them again.

He turned back and walked to his tent. The war was over. He would soon return to gentle Valinor, to majestic Taniquetil, to golden Valmar, where people smiled, and Maiar sang, and when the zephyr blew, the silver bells on the tree in front of his window rang as in laughter.

#silmarillion #maedhros #ingwion #silm fic #zwc fic #this is the first fic with this pairing on ao3 #it's so funny to me :D #can't believe i wrote 2000 words of these idiots flirting #or trying to #this has been on my mind #since that post about ridiculous tolkien ship names #which i can't find now

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kiapet2 · 3 years

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Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 7: Nice Job Breaking It, Hero

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: An unlikely alliance is made.

Chapter Warnings: Captivity, Death Mentions

“So, how are you holding up? Because I’m a potato.”

Wind whips at your clothing and hair, that and the weightless feeling in your stomach the only indications that you are falling. You do your best to glower at the tuber hanging in front of you in the air.

“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who insulted him.”

The potato scoffs. “He normally doesn’t care what you say about him. Owns it, even. This... temper tantrum... is your fault for putting him in charge of the facility in the first place!”

“My fault?” you say incredulously. “Like you gave me a choice!”

“You could have just let me kill you,” the potato says. “It really is terrible etiquette to depose your host, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

There’s a sudden jolt as your feet and then your back connect with something smooth and inclined, and then you find that in place of the elevator shaft you were just falling down, you are now sliding down a clear plastic tube.

“Ah. It looks like he caught us,” the potato says casually from behind. “I’m sure that wherever we’re going is simply delightful, don’t you?

You don’t have a good response to that so you choose to ignore it. You try to look at your surroundings, not sure whether to be relieved to have been saved from the seemingly bottomless elevator shaft or worried about where you might be going now. The tube you’re in changes trajectory quickly, going both up and down and taking sharp turns to either side. Rooms whizz by too quickly to get a good look, but you can occasionally recognize the distinctive white of test chambers.

That’s probably where you’re going now. You only just won your freedom, and now you’re being thrown right back in.

“Since we have all this time together,” the potato drawls, “Let’s give you some facts about our situation, hmm? Remus is the Creativity Core. The original Creativity Core, made years before our dear Roman first came into being.”

“Yes, I knew that,” you say impatiently.

“Well then,” the potato says, “You must have heard how Remus was ‘corrupted’. But do you know what that actually means?”

“I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

“It means, my sweet, stupid Thomas, that Remus isn’t constrained by so-called rules and morals the way your dear little friends are. He’s Creativity in its most raw, unbridled form. No inhibitions, no control, nothing to stop him from doing whatever the hell he wants.”

The potato’s voice turns mocking. “And you just put him in charge of the entire facility.”

The sound of slow claps echoes through the tube.

“Ah, good,” the potato says, “I was wondering if that function still worked.”

“It’s not like I had much choice,” you snap. “If you remember, you were trying to kill me at the time!”

“Yes, well, now everyone in Aperture is going to die. That’s clearly so much better, thank goodness for your quick thinking!”

You groan in frustration and run your hands through your hair. He’s right about that last part- replacing Remus was a mistake, one made in desperation maybe, but one which may still cost you your life.

Wait. He said-

“What do you mean, ‘everyone in Aperture?’” you say. “Are the others in danger?”

“Of course not,” the potato drawls. “Having a maniac at the head of this facility wouldn’t affect them at all, it’s not like they’re inherently connected to it or anything.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to respond when the tube splits, your body sliding into one fork while the potato is sucked into the other. In a moment, he’s gone from your view.

You’ve only just had time to register the separation when suddenly the tube ends and you find yourself flying through the air. Your feet hit solid ground, and though your boots stop most of the force of your landing you still find yourself overbalancing from the forward momentum and falling flat on your face. Your nose explodes into pain as it connects with the floor.

“Augh!” Tears form in your eyes and you gingerly feel at your nose. It isn’t broken, or at least you think it isn’t- would you be able to tell if it was?- and your fingers come away without blood, so you think it’s probably okay. Smarts like hell, though.

You sit up and look around, blinking the tears away. You’re in a small room, bare except for a button and connected door. The area around you is sterile and empty, with the Core-turned-potato nowhere to be seen. You’re not sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved- he isn’t exactly your favorite person right now, but at least if he were here you’d have someone to talk to.

As if on cue, a familiar voice fills the room.

Heeeey, Tommy-boy! Long time no see! Did you enjoy the ride? Do you think if you hit your nose again it would start gushing blood?

You grimace at the mental image, resisting the urge to feel again at your nose, then turn and cross your arms at the nearest security camera.

“Either let me go, or just get on with it!”

Touchy, touchy, Remus says. Well, if you’re that eager to get to testing, who am I to stop you?

Some sort of clear cylinder lowers into the center of the room, then slides open in front.

Well? Remus says as you move forward to tentatively inspect it. Are you going to get in?

It’s an elevator, you realize, but much smaller than you’re used to, almost claustrophobic if it weren’t for the clear walls- which will likely be nerve-wracking when the thing is actually in motion. You suspect the unsettling elements of the design are deliberate on Remus’ part, which just makes you even more certain that getting into this thing is not a good idea.

Or if you want, you could stay here and get hungrier and thirstier until you curl up and die. I bet I could get a lot of data from that!

You bite your lip and turn away, looking again at your surroundings. Surely, there’s some way out of here that isn’t that elevator. And yet, no matter where you look you’re trapped in. There’s no gaps in the walls to shoot portals through, and not enough height to build up momentum and try to launch yourself out.

You go back and stand in front of the elevator, your stomach twisting itself into knots. You just got out of the testing chambers- could you really bring yourself to go back? But what choice do you even have, when the alternative is staying here and hoping someone finds you before you die of thirst?

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you step forward into the elevator and watch as the doors close around you.

Now I’ve taken a look at Jan-Jan’s tests, Remus says as the elevator begins to rise, and they were okay and all, but it’s pretty clear he isn’t the Creativity Core, you know? I mean, toxic sludge and balls of electricity? It’s a start, I guess, but why limit yourself to the same old stuff when there’s so many fun ways to kill people?

The elevator slows to a stop, revealing a small testing chamber.

So that’s why I’ve come up with newer, deadlier obstacles for you to solve! First up: deadly lasers! I wouldn’t touch them if I were you- or at least if you enjoy having ten fingers. Have fun!

The doors open and you step out into the room, which looks strangely familiar. After a moment it hits you.

“I’ve already done this test chamber,” you say, then grimace, mentally kicking yourself. Sure Thomas, tell the deranged AI he needs to make his tests harder, that’ll turn out well for you.

Yes, but this one has deadly lasers, which automatically makes it better, Remus’ voice says petulantly. You caught me at a bad time! We used to have hundreds of test chambers locked away, but now I have to either use good old JAN-9000’s rooms or make them from scratch. So solve your silly little laser puzzle so you can get to the good stuff!

Wonderful, you think sarcastically, super looking forward to it. Then you sigh and just solve the puzzle.

Like the test chamber you previously solved, the solution is as simple as redirecting the laser with a pair of portals, and before you know it you’re back in the elevator. The one after is similarly simple, and involves using a special glass cube to redirect the lazers while Remus cheerfully narrates what they would do to you if you messed up and hit one. It’s almost nostalgic, really, though Remus’ descriptions of the danger are more gleeful where Virgil’s were more stressed.

By the time you get back into the cramped-yet-uncomfortably-exposed elevator, your heart is starting to calm down just a bit. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, right? Sure, you had the others then, and you’re pretty sure they’re the only reason you’re alive right now, but. It’s fine. You’re fine. And if you keep thinking it enough, maybe you’ll actually believe it.

The next test chamber forms before your eyes, panels pulling into place to make floors and walls while Remus tuts and apologizes to “Daddy” for making a mess. You do your best to ignore him as you step forward, finding a deep pit with a moving platform going across, directly into the path of a laser.

After a moment of surveying the room, you use your portals to get to the familiar form of a cube dispenser. Just like every other time you’ve used a cube dispenser, it promptly drops a cube. Unlike every other time you’ve used one, another object drops out right after the cube, one that shrieks as it falls, then bounces off the cube’s top and onto the ground with a series of “ow”s.

For a moment your stomach flutters with the hope that it might be one of your friends. Then you realize that the object that fell was much too small, and hit far too quietly, to be a Core- or at least a Core living in a body that isn’t a potato.

Just your luck, that the one person in this facility you were reunited with would be the one you least wanted to see. You go over anyways, kneeling down and poking at the potato lying on the ground.

“Hey, um, are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” the potato mutters into the floor.

“I take it you got sidetracked?” you say, picking up the potato and not even bothering to hide your smirk. “Had a little rollercoaster ride in the cube system?”

“Yes, yes, hilarious,” the potato says. “If you picked me up just to mock me, I’d kindly ask you to just leave me here to rot, please.”

“And here I thought Roman was dramatic,” you say.

“Ah, yes, dearest Roman,” the potato says, a sinister little smile in his voice. “How might he be doing, do you think? It looked like he fell quite far.”

Your knuckles creak as your hands form into fists. “I swear to you, if he isn’t okay-”

“You’ll what? Tear me out of my own body and replace me with someone who put me in a literal potato? Oh, wait, you already did that!”

You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. I need to find the others, and you’re just wasting my time.”

You set the potato down and turn, preparing to take the cube and step back onto the moving platform.

“What if I said I knew how to find them?”

You freeze, then turn back. “You know where the others are?”

“Perhaps.”

You crouch down and pick the potato up again. “Where are they?!”

“Right, because I both know the exact location and would be willing to tell you if I did.”

“But you’ll help me find him?” you say insistently.

“Me, help you?” the potato says. “This situation is your doing, so why would I possibly want to help you?”

You hold the potato up to eye level, giving him a glare.

“Because this is as much your fault as mine. You’re going to help me fix it, or I will throw you down into the deepest depths of this facility I can find and leave you to rot.”

For a moment you’re afraid you went too far, but the potato just gives a deep chuckle. “Well Thomas, I must say I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you. Since you asked so nicely, I will help you find the others, on one condition: you restore me to my rightful place at the head of this facility.

You almost drop him in shock. “What? No! You being in control here was what caused this problem in the first place!”

The potato sighs. “Do you know what my intended purpose is, Thomas?”

“Putting people through rat mazes and then killing them?”

The potato continues as if you hadn’t said anything. “I am the System Preservation Core. I kept this facility running when everyone else had failed, forwarded its interests above all else for decades until you replaced me and threw it all away.”

“Forwarded its interests above human lives?” you say incredulously.

“Of course.”

You scowl down at the potato. “So how do I know you’re not just going to kill me the second you get back control?”

“Thomas,” the potato replies dryly, “I think you’ve proven once and for all that it is much greater of a threat to this facility to try to kill you than to let you go.”

There’s no way you can trust that, not when this Core lies so easily. Then again, some part of your brain whispers, there’s nothing to stop you from going back on the agreement later on if need be. It’s not like he can do much as a potato.

“All right,” you find yourself saying. “When I’ve found my friends, we’ll put you back where you were.” The declaration hangs in the air between you, and you silently hope you haven’t just made a terrible mistake.

“Right then,” the potato says, businesslike. “We’re going to need some way for you to carry me, preferably not in your hands as I absolutely relish the idea of being dropped mid-jump. Wait, what are you-”

Before you can think better of it, you find yourself taking the potato and spearing it onto one of the portal’s front tines, making its occupant yelp.

“Did you just stab me?” he shrieks.

“I didn’t- I mean I just-” you stammer, then jump as the potato lets out another yelp.

“I- whoa. Okay. That portal gun must have Magnesium or something in it; I think my power just went up half a bolt.”

“So- you’re good then?” you say.

He huffs. “As good as I can be as a potato, I suppose.”

You slump in relief so hard you need to steady yourself on the wall. You don’t like this Core, obviously, but you really didn’t feel like becoming a murderer today.

“At any rate,” the potato says, “I might as well put this processing power to use, since I doubt you’ll be of much help. If you need me I’ll be doing some scheming. See y-”

The potato’s voice cuts out, and his light goes dark.

Okay, so maybe you spoke too soon on the not-having-murdered-anyone thing.

“Uh, potato guy?” you say nervously, poking at the potato. “Buddy? You good there?”

After a moment the yellow light blinks back on.

“Huh? What happened? How long have I been out?”

“Er, thirty seconds? More or less?” you say.

He hrms. “Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing. The extra half a volt helps, but it can only go so far. If I think too hard I’m going to fry this lousy tuber.”

“Wonderful, I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” you mutter. The sarcasm makes your tone sound almost identical to the potato’s, which gives you a weird, almost deja-vu-like feeling.

You shake the feeling off, hefting the portal gun and using it to grab the nearby cube. “Are you at least ready to go, Mr. Potato Head?”

The potato huffs. “Do keep making up ridiculous nicknames for me, it’s not like I have a real name or anything.”

“Oh, right,” you say. “Remus called you Jan, right? Or, uh, Janny?”

“Janus,” the potato hisses.

You raise an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The potato hesitates for a moment, before it sighs and says, “My name is Janus.”

You mull that over for a moment. A bit unusual, but not bad as names go.

Taking a deep breath, you move forward, stepping onto the moving platform and preparing to finish the puzzle.

“Alright then, Janus,” you say. “Looks like we’re a team.”

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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dercolaris · 4 years

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Among Us

The rogues are playing some Among Us and having fun.

Please have mercy. It’s my first time writing in English, so... Enjoy!

And if you have some new ideas for me (and like my style of course) just say a word. I will try to work a bit more in English.

________________________________________________

Clearly no one of the famous villains thought about playing Among Us and if someone would've asked them about it they would strongly deny it ever touching this stupid, little game. Still it actually happened on a very calm weekend in Gotham City. Elise smiled widely, started the little program on her own PC. The young woman tried to convince the crew for about seven weeks before she finally succeeded in getting everyone on board. Especially her mentor wasn't delighted by the whole idea, but said yes anyway, after a small tantrum. Jonathan himself was sitting behind her in front of his old laptop and the furiously clicking sound of the mouse was a clear sign that he wasn't really knowing what he was doing at the moment. If not for the noises, his constant sighing and mumbling was explanation enough for his serious troubles in handling a 'modern' computer. The amber haired snickered calmly. She would need to help him sooner or later. Ignoring the desperation parade of Crane, the mistress of fear opened Team Speak and joined the server Edward created particularly for this evening. She hummed a bit while waiting impatiently, played a short game of minesweeper to pass some time. Suddenly the cocky voice of the Riddler rumbled through her earphones: “It's about time. Damn, I waited for about an hour or so. What took you so long, princess? Seriously. I'm wasting my precious time for a silly game like this and you've nothing better to do than let me rot while watching the pointer of the clock moving in slow motion.” Elise couldn't contain an amused laughter. It was always fun to listen to his ranting – even more when he was pissed. Before she could answered the tinkerer a low female voice snarled in the chat: “Eddy, please. Give her a moment and calm down. You're acting like a diva right now.” The addressed man snorted in disbelief, but remained silent after the unexpected backtalk from Selina. The mistress of fear glanced through the party on the server and raised an eyebrow, tapped on her bottom lip repeatedly. Jonathan wasn't on it now, of course not, but she missed a certain polish guy. Mikołaj was fire and flames after she told him her idea, but who knew if he would really join them in the end. He was busy most of the times. Rape, murder, burglary, selling human meat and spreading chaos. The typical Mikołaj stuff. Beside the missing psychopath Victor was ready to give it a try, also a very insecure Jervis and, to her surprise, even Harley. Only Ivy couldn't have make it to the meeting. The bioterrorist was probably occupied with breeding a new plant or cursing at polluters in the subway near by her apartment. “Can we start now?”, asked the lively voice of the former clown lover, “I want to be an imposter! I heard so much about it and from what I understand it sounds like a hell lot of fun.” An unexpected loud grunting noise behind her let Elise giggled in glee. Her mentor was constantly trying to start the game, but failed every single time. The young woman stand up slowly and moved to him, peeked over his shoulder and looked puzzled on his desktop. She blinked two times before she asked gently: “Uhm, professor... Do you want to explain, why you're typing Google in Google.com all over again? I guess you don't know how to use your laptop, right?”

The brown haired grumbled in frustration, but nodded restrainedly. The mistress of fear smiled and reached over the tall man, setted all the required programs for him. After a while she handed him the clunky headset. The amber haired returned quickly to her computer and sat back on the very comfortable stool, looked again into the chat room. From a far distance Jervis was whispering something, but no one could really understand him because of a terrible internet connection. Finally Jonathan joined the party. He was about to say something as a loud clapping sound left him speechless for a moment. Scarecrow swallowed his anger down his throat and simply muttered into his microphone: “Thank you all. I appreciate the honest enthusiasm.” Everyone in the chat room laughed for nearly a minute before Edward rudely replied: “It's a miracle that your potato is capable of running this game, John. What are you using anyway? A C64? It must be falling apart just by looking at it and you can't prove me wrong on this one. Doctor Jonathan Ichabod Crane isn't using new technology even if his life would depend on it!” Jonathan inhaled sharply, but stayed calm. It was clear that he didn't wanted to start a fight this early on the evening. Suddenly a cheeky, manly voice out of nowhere greeted impolitely: “Hey bitches. Daddy's here with his enormous cock to fuck all of your nice sweet little pussies.” A general groan chimed trough the headphones. Mikołaj. The Pole was causing serious headaches as soon as he entered the game lobby and he was probably enjoying it already. The devilish snicker was an unmistakable indication for this assumption. All of the sudden the cryologist spoke calmly to the crew: “It would be nice if we could behave for at least one round. Is that possible?” Without a warning the Riddler started the game. He himself changed his light green avatar in advance, but everyone else hadn't had a chance to customise the player model. Nevertheless for some strange reason Jonathan's orange crewmate was wearing an egg on his head. No one in the chat room was brave enough to ask for justification. After some seconds Jervis delayed voice blared almost painfully in everyone's ears: “Excuse me, but am I allowed to ask politely how to play this beautiful looking game? I was told on my screen that I'm an imposter. What does this mean?” As soon as the Mad Hatter finished his sentence Edward pressed the button for an emergency meeting in the main room. Nobody said a single word. After the quick and silent vote Jervis yellow player was floating helplessly in space and the information rolled over the screen that an imposter was exposed.

The small man whimpered sadly, but kept his thoughts to himself. Instead of him Harley screamed extremely motivated into her microphone: “Common guys! Let's do it! We can finish our tasks and go back to earth or whatever planet we are originally coming from.” Soon the crew was splitting in different directions. It didn't took long before an alarming red light floated the space ship in an unnerving rhythm. Elise frowned and watched the security cameras closely in order to find a suspicious being that could cause the sabotage. A quiet scream from the harlequin was a trusted clue that she might been murdered by the imposter. The game was suddenly paused by another meeting and Edward announced confident of victory: “I found a dead pink body in the corridor and I can assume you all that I saw Elise close by the corpse just seconds ago.” The young woman groaned in total disbelief. She talked back immediately: “No way, Mr. Nygma! And don't try to distract the other players from your own very suspicious behaviours. Do you want to tell them, why you were jumping out of a vent? I think I spotted a green figure popping up on the cameras when I blinked.” A heated discussion was following. The amber haired chomped on her bottom lip, waiting anxiously for the voting. Her eyes were getting bigger and bigger by the results. Her purple crewmate was flying aimlessly through the black background and slowly the sentence appeared that she wasn't an imposter. The mistress of fear had the strong urge to mutter that she was telling the truth, but this wasn't possible anymore after dying. It was a common rule to stay silent after being killed to not ruin the experience for the other gamers. Besides everyone in the party could probably read what was written on the screen and it wasn't necessary to point it out again. Totally out of context Jonathan was mumbling behind her: “Can you please vote me out or at least murder me next? I don't understand this game.” The remaining players ignored his plead. The young woman was following Victor with her ghost and grabbed her mug to drink from her coffee. It was cold. Such a shame. The irony of this statement would eventually hit her when she was laying in bed and tried to sleep. The game was interrupted again and the tinkerer suspected sceptically: “Okay, listen. I think – no, wait – I KNOW that Mikołaj was acting very strangely in the engine room. He's plotting something. We should vote him out as soon as possible.” The amused voice of the pole blasted through the speakers: “Sure, dickhead. I'm always sus, because I fix all the shit that's going on on this fucking garbage bin alone and not fooling around like you, mistake of evolution. Maybe, just maybe, you're the one who's sabotaging us all the time. Just a quick reminder: the riddle boy was suspecting my little hoe first for no reason. Pretty sus if you ask me.” The black haired hold his breath for a moment, then tried to justify himself: “Don't listen to this imbecile! He's playing dirty tricks on you! You can trust me, seriously! I'm not an imposter!”

Selina purred peacefully. She wasn't believing Edward anymore and Elise got the weird feeling that his short time on the space ship was over. The voting ended. As expected the green guy was levitating in zero gravity, followed by the information that he wasn't an imposter either. Victor sighed a bit and spoke worried: “We need to focus. Some of us is a traitor and if we can't find him within the next minutes we're losing here.” Out of nowhere the message appeared that Jonathan left the game. The mistress of fear looked over her shoulder just to see her mentor carrying the laptop to the window. Scarecrow slowly opened the glass and threw the device with a bit of an approach run out of it. Elise jaw dropped by this sight. The tall man shrugged angrily and walked out of the room without a word, slammed the door behind him. The young woman shook her head. Sometimes the former psychiatrist was very humourless or even allergic to fun. A look on her screen revealed that the imposter won. No one was surprised by the black crewmate cheering on the black background. Also cheering was Mikołaj, who was claiming loudly: “Sluts, you never knew what hit you! I'm the master of disguise! Kneel before the superior race of trickery that lays in my roots. You don't mess with a Pole!” The peaceful mood slowly faded and after a minute of silent resignation of everyone the crew started to blame each other for the lost game. Soon Edward demanded a second round. The orange haired smirked a bit and run around in the main lobby. It was going to be a very long night.

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snakeboistan · 4 years

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Of Fountains And Laughter

Pairing: Sugino and Nagisa (either romantic or platonic) (Y’all really think that I can write Nagisa birthday fics and not include his best friend/(platonic) soulmate)

Nagisa and Sugino walked together along the cobblestone path that ran through the park, their enclasped hands swinging in tandem with every synchronised step they took. The two of them were strolling through a park, which, in Nagisa’s opinion was the best way to end the best birthday ever. He still couldn’t help but tear up when he found out that the whole class had gotten together and had taken time out of their own lives to celebrate his birthday with him. He was so lucky to be surrounded by such caring and loving classmates that genuinely wanted to be around him. All of his life, he was treated like a second thought - he was the son his mother never wanted, the child his father couldn’t try harder to be around, the friend that drove Karma away - but for some reason there is an entire class of people who consider him someone to be celebrated and he’s never been more grateful for them and for dropping down to the hated E Class. As he and Sugino were on their way to Sugino’s house when the best birthday party Nagisa had ever attended was over, to start their sleepover, Nagisa’s eyes caught sight of the park entrance. Once Sugino had followed his line of vision, he asked if he wanted to check it out, seeing as they had around two hours before his parents expected the both of them. At Nagisa’s enthusiastic agreement, the two of them were happy to find the park deserted as they ran around, stopping only once so that they could play on the swingset. When the two of them had decided to retreat back to their original path to Sugino’s home, the sun had just about set and night was closing in.

“So I was thinking,” Sugino said, “we could either watch a movie on Netflix or binge another sports drama together. We could even have some of the leftover ice cream if my brother hadn’t eaten all of it by now.”

“I’m fine with anything,” Nagisa replied, “I like movies and it’s also really fun to see you get all excited when we watch those baseball shows.”

“Yeah, we’ll just decide when we get home. Hopefully the little terror would leave us alone.”

“Sugino, he’s your brother.”

“Yeah, I know and I love him but he just gets so annoying when I bring you around. I don’t get why he always wants to tag along with us.”

“He’s nine. Besides, I don’t mind. He doesn’t bother me. I find it cute that he likes to hang out with us.”

“Honestly, I think he’s there more for you than me. I don’t know how you do it but he even cleaned his room when he found out that you were staying over. He doesn't even pick his things up when mum tells him to, she normally has to threaten to ground him until he does.”

“Really, that’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like you’re his best friend,” Sugino grumbled in annoyance.

Nagisa rolled his eyes in amusement, a fond smile playing on his lips. He really loved the Sugino family. Every single one of them treated him like he was a part of them, making sure to ask how he was doing, if he was alright, if he wanted anything and always welcoming him with open arms. It was no wonder that his classmate turned out so kind-hearted since he was surrounded by family members that were always smiling and weren’t afraid to show their genuine affection to each other. He was just about to comment on Sugino’s statement when something caught his eye.

“Hey,” he said nodding his head towards an area behind Sugino’s back, “check out those fountains.”

Turning around, Sugino was greeted by the sight of multiple gushes of water erupting out of the ground, ascending and descending in synchrony with each other. At the base of each mini-geyser was a mini-light that would gradually change shade from one colour of the rainbow to the next, causing each burst of water to look like a technicolour volcano against the contrast of the darkness of the atmosphere.

“Come on,” Nagisa giggled as he pulled on Sugino’s hand gently, encouraging him to follow him towards the block of cement that the fountains were emerging from, “let’s go check it out.”

Sugino let Nagisa drag him, only stopping when they were so close to the perimeter of the fountain floor that he could feel specks of water splash against his face and shirt, “woah, woah, wait. Are you suggesting that we go in?”

Nagisa looked sheepish as his face blushed, “well, it’s just that I saw kids come and play in places like this a lot when I was younger and I thought it might be fun to do it. With you, I mean. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m so sorry, Sugino, I should’ve asked instead of dragging you here. I just got so excited when I saw them that-”

“Hey,” Sugino smiled in reassurance, squeezing the hand that was still holding Nagisa’s, “I’m not mad or anything. Just surprised. I never took you for the type to run around in water.”

“I just don’t like doing it in public, you know,” Nagisa said, looking down, “I feel like I would get judged if I act so childishly, you see. I already look like an Elementary Schooler, I don’t want people to think I actually am one. But if I’m with you, well, I know that you won’t think I’m anything that I’m not.”

Sugino could hear the gratitude that was interwoven in Nagisa’s words. As much as the blue-haired boy tried to hide it with smiles and laughter, Sugino knew that he was very self-conscious and insecure about his childish, feminine appearance and so for him to say that Sugino made him feel comfortable enough to not have to worry about his insecurities coming true meant the world to him. Sure, he would need to try harder to convince his kind-hearted best friend that he’s worth more than he thinks and that his looks shouldn’t matter but the journey of self-positivity is a long one - one that Sugino would not mind taking even if it lasted for the rest of his life. He was already planning on doing this uncharacteristically silly bit of fun with him anyway, but hearing those words that caused his stomach to fill with a pleasant fuzzy warmth and a fond smile to make its way across his lips had definitely sealed the deal, “so what are we waiting for then?”

Nagisa yelped as Sugino ran into the middle of the fountains, swinging Nagisa’s body so that he could take hold of the other hand. All at once, water spurted up in long colourful columns that went past their heads. With a wide smile, Sugino spun Nagisa around, crashing him into the wet pillars and taking delight in the way the other’s shocked eyes lit up with unadulterated happiness. Laughing at the increasing momentum acting on his body, Nagisa pulled as well, managing to get his taller companion twirling around as well. They probably looked like a couple of crazy people: spinning around and laughing, completely drenched from head to toe, all by themselves in this abandoned park late in the evening. Once the two of them had gotten too dizzy and had stopped whirling around like human tornadoes, they let go of their hands. Then, without a word, Nagisa swiped his hand across a gush of water, sending a splash of it right at Sugino’s face. Throwing his head back and erupting into a flurry of giggles at Sugino, who was now the startled one, Nagisa sprinted to a corner of the rectangle of stone.

“Hey,” Sugino shouted, chasing after him with a laugh, “get back here.”

Unfortunately for him, Nagisa was the best at sneak attacks for a reason; by the time he had covered the distance between them Nagisa had vanished, slipping in through the small intervals between the fountains as quickly and stealthily as a viper and using the water as a cloak to hide against. Every time the water would descend the back into the ground and Sugino would see the bluenette standing somewhere and then once the floor would erupt like polychromatic volcanoes of water, he would have gone somewhere completely different undetected, his mischievous chuckles - as well as the occasional gentle shoves that would push him directly into a gush of water - being the only indication that he was still there. After the fourth attempt of trying to get revenge on his shorter friend, he felt two slender arms gently hug him from behind and a soaking wet head rest against the curve of his back.

“Thank you,” Nagisa whispered, “for doing this with me. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Sugino smiled, turning around so that he can hug Nagisa back, “and you don’t need to thank me for wanting to spend time with you. I enjoy doing that anyway.”

The joy that was radiating off of Nagisa’s face was blinding and Sugino found it infectious. He loved seeing the other teenager like this, unrestrained and carefree, unlike the too careful, shy and held-back way he would act in class, where he’s too worried about doing something wrong or that would inconvenience someone or hurt them. Like this, with his hair dripping and hanging limply, sticking against his pale skin, blue eyes illuminating both with the natural light of happiness inside them and because of the way they would catch with the light emitting from the floor, he looked like a regular teenager that had just done something something completely ridiculous just for the sake of it and enjoyed every single second of it - and Sugino was the one lucky enough to do it with him.

“Happy Birthday Nagisa,” Sugino said, internally thinking, ‘and thank you for being the best friend I could ever ask for.’

#assassination classroom #my writing #sugino x nagisa #sugino tomohito #tomohito sugino #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota

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elyvorg · 4 years

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Later Alligator

Later Alligator is a visual novel indie game with extremely charming character design and animation set in a world of anthropomorphic alligators. It’s primarily goofy and humorous, which isn’t precisely the kind of game I’d have sought out on my own, but it is the kind of game I’ll happily sit through and enjoy if a Let’s Play channel I already follow happens to do a playthrough of it, so that’s a thing that I did. Upon said playthrough recently finishing, I found myself having some Thoughts about the story, particularly the true ending, to the point that I figured I might as well get them out somewhere.

The game begins as your player character arrives in Alligator New York City one morning, where in a hotel lobby you find another alligator named Pat. He seems very nervous and hesitant to talk to you at first, until he suddenly gives in and starts spilling his soul to you because you have a trustworthy face. (A face that you can’t actually see yourself because the game is in first person.) It seems like Pat does this spilling-his-soul-to-strangers thing a lot, because he thinks he accidentally let slip some kind of secret to someone at some point and now his family is going to rub him out in what they’re calling an “event” this evening, which is why he’s so nervous. Looks like this impulsive dork was unfortunate enough to be born into a gangster family that he really doesn’t belong in? Since he trusts you, though, Pat asks you to go and talk to his family to find out more details about the “event” and maybe convince them to not actually murder him.

You apparently don’t have anything else to be doing that day, so you proceed to go around the city talking to the many members of Pat’s very large family, helping them with their various problems in minigame form so that they’ll maybe spill a few details about this super-secret “event” involving Pat tonight. As you do, it very quickly becomes clear that, A, Pat’s family really doesn’t seem very gangster-ish at all, and B, this “event” sounds more like some kind of surprise party. And, oh yeah, Pat offhandedly mentioned it was his birthday today in your first conversation with him. His family’s almost certainly just throwing him a surprise birthday party, but Pat somehow got the wrong end of the stick with their vague hints and got convinced they were going to assassinate him instead. Silly Pat.

But the more of Pat’s family you meet, the more it becomes overwhelmingly apparent that not only are his family not remotely gangsters, but… they all really love him? Sure, everyone in his family is weird and quirky and eccentric in one way or another – it’s that kind of game – but they’re all generally nice people and think Pat is a great guy who’s fun to hang out with (well, there’s a few bad eggs, but they’re just self-absorbed and don’t have any malice towards Pat). How could Pat ever actually have thought any of these people would want to hurt him?

You meet up with Pat a few times throughout the day, as he keeps wanting to have his new friend help reassure him through his nerves about the whole totally-getting-super-murdered-today thing. In one of these meetings, your character implicitly tells him “this event really just sounds like a surprise party”, and Pat insists, “no, that’s just what they want you to think, they’re definitely trying to kill me, keep investigating!” It starts to become clear that Pat’s not just acting nervous today in particular because he thinks he’s going to be killed – he’s always nervous and anxious and paranoid, and that’s why his brain’s convinced him with absolutely zero proof that his family, who clearly think the world of him, are out to get him. Poor guy!

But at least Pat has you, this kind stranger who decided to take on his problems and with whom he can feel a little bit safer and find it a little easier to believe things might be okay. In the evening, you lead him to the room where the “event” is taking place to help ease his fears, and he’s adorably delighted when he sees that it really is a birthday party all for him and no-one is trying to kill him even a little bit dead. A couple of his family members mention that he pretty much freaks out like this every year (suggestion, guys: maybe you should stop making it a surprise and just outright tell him he’s getting a party to help him be less paranoid about it). But this year Pat’s freakout wasn’t quite as bad as usual, thanks to you being there to help and reassure him. Aww.

Pat invites you to join in the photo with all of the people who made it to the party (for some reason, only the family members whose minigames you’ve completed will be there, which I guess is to give you incentive to replay in order meet them all and see the full photo). This comes with the neat twist of having a character-creation feature at the end of the game, as you get to decide on your own alligator features at last just before being in the photo. So rather than just picking what best represents your actual self in alligator form, you’ll probably be picking whatever features you think fit the kind of person you seem to have been playing as in the game, based on the comments of everyone you’ve talked to, especially Pat.

And you taking part in the family photo as Pat’s newest friend implies he considers you one of his family now too (after all, a couple of the people you met weren’t actually related to him but were still invited to the party just out of being a friend of his). It is all in all a very wholesome and lovely game about helping this guy through his anxieties, and his big eccentric family that loves him anyway, now including you. Pat is a precious adorable goof who deserves the best birthday party and as much support with his anxiety and paranoia as his family and friends can give him.

Then, if you’ve met every single family member, there’s a true ending. The “event” really being a birthday party barely counts as a plot twist because it’s so obvious, but the true ending is an actual legitimate surprise, so this is your last chance to stop reading if this has made you want to play the game for yourself.

…

Turns out, someone really was out to kill Pat that day, and that someone was you. You are actually an assassin that, through some comedic coincidences and misunderstandings, Pat accidentally hired to kill himself on his birthday.

That’s why you came to this town today. That’s perhaps even why you decided to spend your day talking to Pat’s family and getting information about the “event”; you probably assumed one of them was the one who hired you to kill him and were trying to find out who it was. The whole time Pat was relying on you to stop his family from totally-super-murdering him, and wanting your company to help ease his nerves about it, you were quietly planning on killing him yourself and he never had a clue. Apparently you were so good at hiding your intentions and appearing trustworthy to Pat, to the point that he impulsively spilled his soul to you at the beginning and continued to trust you throughout – but he never should have believed in you at all.

At the end of the party, you approach Pat alone on a balcony, and as he turns to greet you with a big smile, you push him over the railing… only to have an extremely sudden change of heart and catch him as he falls.

…So, obviously I am very on board with the concept of your assassin-gator protagonist (for whom I’m now going to switch to third-person pronouns because it turns out they’re their own character and not just an extension of the player) not actually wanting to kill Pat any more. But I don’t think the way this moment plays out quite works to properly sell their change of heart, not when it only happens all of a sudden once they’ve already pushed him to his death. If they had grown to feel unwilling to kill Pat, that’s something that would have gradually happened over the course of the day as they spent time with him and his family. Given that, if by this point they didn’t truly want to kill him deep down, I don’t think it works that the protagonist could even have brought themselves to carry out the act and push Pat off the balcony in the first place (especially not when he’s looking at them with a huge excited “hey it’s my new friend!!!” smile). I can see them approaching him, intending to do it, telling themselves they’ve just got to finish the job they came to do, but not actually being able to go through with it and physically take an action that should have ended his life.

This moment could have happened differently to sell it better. Imagine if, instead of going to push Pat off the balcony, the protagonist pulls out their knife (the knife that had always been vaguely visible inside the briefcase menu screen, and that they’d pulled out of nowhere in one of the minigames for what seemed like the kind of non-sequitur gag that this game is full of but was actually foreshadowing!)… but then they hesitate, staring at the knife, their hand perhaps beginning to shake. Then Pat turns around to greet them and freaks out so spectacularly over seeing them looming ominously over him with a knife that he falls backwards off the balcony – and the protagonist unthinkingly throws their knife aside and rushes to catch him. That way, they’re still saving Pat from themselves to seal the change of heart, but they didn’t deliberately begin to kill him before that and make the change of heart seem inappropriately sudden.

So, well, I’m basically trying to pretend that that’s how that scene actually played out, because I am otherwise finding myself rather invested (totally not for any reason that some of the people who follow me will be aware of) in this implicit story of an assassin who gradually realises that they really don’t want to kill their target at all. Based their office that we see, the protagonist very much appears to be what I like to call a “responsibly-sourced assassin” who willingly chose that profession for themselves, which you’d think would mean they were truly unfeeling and heartless and had no qualms about doing murders for a living. But clearly they do have a heart of gold somewhere in there.

This is probably me totally overthinking this largely-comedic game at this point, but: because of this, I headcanon that the protagonist got wrapped up in some really bad stuff in their past that led to them thinking they were a horrible person who was only good at murdering people and deciding they might as well give up on trying to be better and just do that for a living. They’re also evidently very good at appearing like a decent and trustworthy person on the surface, but they’d tell themselves that’s just deception so that they can more easily gather information for a hit, and definitely not because somewhere deep down they actually are capable of being a good person if they tried.

It’s also fun to think in a bit more detail about exactly how the protagonist had a change of heart. One could imagine it’s just down to Pat and his family being such lovable goofs, but on the other hand that’s the kind of thing that a professional killer would have trained themselves to block out and not let themselves be affected by, so I don’t think that alone would be enough. Maybe instead it’s got more to do with the sheer irony of the fact that Pat is genuinely paranoid that his family, who are lovely and would never hurt him and clearly deserve his trust, are out to kill him – and yet at the same time he’s blindly trusting this complete stranger who actually literally is plotting to kill him. Perhaps it weighs on the protagonist’s mind more and more over the course of the day that they don’t deserve Pat’s belief in them, especially not when he finds it so hard to even believe in the people who actually love him, to the point that the protagonist starts to wish that they were someone that Pat could believe in, that if only he could be right to do so after all.

There’s also the fact that this true ending – complete with an achievement called “Save Pat” – is something you only get when you’ve met every single member of Pat’s family. Which kind of implies that… if you don’t, the protagonist actually does kill Pat and doesn’t catch him at the last second? If so, the difference is probably less down to the last few family members having influenced the protagonist’s change of heart that significantly in and of themselves, and more down to the idea I mentioned earlier that maybe the protagonist was mostly talking to them all to try and figure out which one hired them to kill Pat. As long as they haven’t met absolutely everyone, there’s always the possibility that one of the remaining people they missed is the person who wanted Pat dead. So maybe with that in mind, the protagonist can continue to tell themselves that they’re just doing their job and carrying out their client’s wishes, and really Pat’s death is not on their hands and is just the fault of the person who hired them and wanted him dead. But if they’ve met the entire family, then there’s absolutely no denying that nobody wants Pat dead at all. With that, the protagonist can no longer hide from the fact that the only actual bad person with murderous intent here this whole time has been themselves – and maybe that’s what causes them to realise that they don’t want to be that person any more.

Pat reflects in the true ending, after the protagonist has not-killed him and he’s invited them to his house the next morning, that they essentially saved him from himself. He almost seems to think his own paranoia and conviction that people were out to kill him is to blame for accidentally hiring someone to actually do it. This is apparently why he seems so weirdly not-traumatised about the part where the only person he did trust was the one who actually was plotting to kill him for most of the day. You’d think that would’ve made him feel like his paranoia is justified and therefore make him more paranoid, if anything, no matter how sure he is that the protagonist doesn’t want to kill him any more. Instead, though, Pat frames it as “the only one out to get me was me”, not putting any of the blame on the protagonist for hiding their true intentions from him all day and being the one to almost act on that supposed self-destructiveness of his.

But… if Pat really does think his own paranoia is to blame for this, he’s wrong. The exact amusingly ludicrous coincidence that caused this was Pat sneezing jam onto an ad in the paper for the protagonist’s services (you know, that place where assassins usually advertise) that happened to cover just the right words and letters to change the meaning of the message from “I can kill whoever you need, just give me a description of them” to “I am ill and need help, please give me a description of yourself”. Pat saw this and immediately went “oh no I have to help them!!!” and called them to describe himself in third-person, including mentioning his upcoming birthday, because they said that would help them somehow! So the only thing to blame for this other than a ridiculous coincidence was… well, partly Pat’s tendency to jump to conclusions and act without questioning things, but also his instinctive kindness towards anyone and everyone, even complete strangers. Not his paranoia!

So, I propose a different overall point of this story. It wasn’t the protagonist saving Pat from himself and his own paranoia; rather, it was the opposite. Through the sheer luck of the coincidence that caused him to make that phone call, his tendency to sometimes jump to overly-trusting conclusions instead of overly-paranoid ones, and his and his family’s general goodness, Pat saved the protagonist from themselves. He led them to realise that they could be better than they thought they were and didn’t have to or want to kill people for a living any more.

It’s not mentioned at all in the ending, but I firmly headcanon that the protagonist quits the murder business altogether from that day onwards and becomes just another member of Pat’s family: that one who incidentally used to be an assassin but changed their mind about it thanks to a combination of some unlikely coincidences and Pat just being a good guy. That’s exactly the right flavour of silly eccentricity that’d make them fit in perfectly with the rest of those goofs.

#later alligator #ramble #me overthinking the hell out of a largely comedic game

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sonicringbond · 3 years

Text

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 26

This should be the last peaceful scene for a while. Hopefully Rosy and Draw’s antics will continue to entertain. Soon enough it won’t just be the two of them anymore. But until then, please enjoy Rosy and Draw’s continuing antics in...

“Wha–!”

~I was really, really surprised when I reached the end of the grassy tunnel I followed. I’m lucky my curiosity didn’t fully get the better of me either. But you can’t blame if it had. I did not expect to find what I did at all.~

Transitioning from a run to an awestruck stroll, Rosy looked about in amazement as the cave that resembled the night sky sheltered a forest of tremendous size. Standing for a moment watching what looked like a shooting star streak across the false night sky, Rosy fell to the ground in awe.

“It’s beautiful…!”

~You would have had to see it to understand. It really is kind of impossible to describe the cave. And the forest was so large. And there were so many towering trees. But I can’t really linger as Draw is probably waiting for me. Though whoever’s voices I heard must have come from the forest. I hope they aren’t lost like I am.~

Speeding away from the forest and back up the grassy tunnel, Rosy noticed tree roots were starting to grow through the rock and overtake the night sky. “It’s not a Ring Shift is it?”

~Maybe that was a silly question. I hadn’t noticed the typical golden motes of light that marked one, but the forest reminded me of the one Fang and I saw before Sonic woke up all the Rings with the Red Star Ring. It was below a cliff too. I wonder if the Rings are trying to show me something. Hee-hee! It’s hard to tell with the Rings. They aren’t like any of the powers I normally commune with. They just kind of are.

~Draw isn’t though. Tee-hee~♥ He’s always getting angry at me and I know this time it’s completely my fault. I really shouldn’t have forced a Ring Bond on him. Ooh~, he may think me no better than Ix now. I hope he’ll let me apologize.~

As Rosy emerged from the tunnel she had priorly descended, she did not see Draw where she had left him last. Cupping her hands to her mouth she called out to him.

“Draw~!”

“Behind you, you idiot weirdo girl,” Draw revealed himself with a hushed tone. As Rosy turned around and pouted at him she noticed he held his bow at the ready and eyed the tunnel wearily. “And why would you yell like that. What if someone followed you?”

“Hmph,” Rosy exhaled as she put her hands on her hips. “You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t see anyone. Just a really big forest.”

“A big forest?”

~|~

“This isn’t just big! It’s ginormous!”

For as much as he had criticized Rosy for shouting, Draw could not contain his amazement at the forest. As the two travelers walked under the shadow of the first tree, a giant like many others that reached well above them by hundreds of feet, only the occasional stalagmite and ravine full of the night sky reminded them that they were still in a cave. But the voices they heard made them feel very much above ground even though they could not explain who they belonged to or where they came from, until Draw spoke up and reminded Rosy what she had done to him. All because he was not talking to her.

“So, the voices are just made by the animals living here?”

“Huh? Draw, who are you talking to?”

“Don’t tell me you already forgot?” Draw’s question was dripping with malcontent and Rosy held a hand to her mouth as though to apologize. However, she instead covered the smile spreading across her face. The swishing sound her tail made as it wagged with glee gave away her actual response and Draw groaned. “You really are terrible. You know that you weirdo girl?”

“I’m sorry,” Rosy apologized unconvincingly as her eyes shimmered like the fake night sky above the forest canopy. Despite being truthfully apologetic, her excitement was overwhelming her and momentarily Draw as well.

“Gyah~!”

Shouting out in surprise as Rosy took his hands in hers and stared into his eyes, Draw just knew anything he said next he would probably regret. “You really are a weirdo girl.”

“Who cares about that!” Rosy squealed in delight. “They really did make a Ring Bond with you! Ooh~! I wonder if they can teach me how to make a Ring Bond too!”

“Not happening,” Draw shut Rosy down as he pulled his hands away and continued down their chosen path.

“Ah~ Why not,” Rosy whined only to receive an irritated glare from Draw as she chased after him.

“I doubt they’d want to teach a mean girl like–

“Really,” Draw suddenly switched what he was saying and who he was talking too. Rosy was confused but the creature remained elusive of her gaze as Draw sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell her the truth.”

“The truth?”

Tilting her head Rosy pressed a finger into her cheek. She looked cute enough, but her innocent naïveté simply drew another sigh out of the young koala.

“You were right that someone shoved them into that autogolem, which I was right is called an autogolem,” Draw started to explain before growing smug and claiming a small victory. Rosy let it slide though as she was too curious.

And afraid.

“It wasn’t Doctor Eggman was it!”

“Enough with you and food. How much do you eat anyway!”

“I’m being serious!”

“Hard to tell.”

The two had a moment in which Rosy’s cheeks puffed up and Draw folded his arms. But it did not last long as the creature insisted that Draw continued. “Fine, fine.

“Anyway, it wasn’t your Foodman that stuck the fairies into the auto golems. Ugh. What is it now?”

Rosy’s amazement was a complete shift from her fussiness a moment prior. Her tail wagged probably the fiercest it ever had outside of meeting Sonic for the first time and her held up fists drew attention to her eyes, that were absolutely glowing with amazement.

“THEY’RE FAIRIES~~~!!!” Rosy’s amazed shout chased birds from even the highest points of the canopy and near knocked Draw over from the sheer force of her enthusiasm. “I always thought fairies were just in story books! Ooh~! They really are real! Now I owe Sonic an apology too! He’s met fairies before too, but I didn’t believe him. He’s going to tease me so much when I apologize though. Ooh~! I don’t care though! I want to see Sonic again so badly!

“Come on! Let’s go find Sonic and ask him to help us beat up whoever the mean people are who are picking on you and your friends!”

~I couldn’t help but be excited. I mean, they’re fairies~♥ To think my cards can hear their voices too! It’s just so exciting.

~But I probably shouldn’t have been so hasty. Whoever it was who had made those mean golems could have been anywhere causing even more trouble. And the world was getting weirder and weirder as Draw and I started our next journey. I really should have come up with a plan. It’s what Tails would have done. At the least I should have sat down and talked to the fairy and asked it all sorts of questions. Thanks to the Ring Bond it formed with Draw I finally could. And there are so many questions they might know the answers to.

~Why people are scared of Rings here. What that little planet in the sky is. Who Ix is. The nature of the light flowers. And probably questions I hadn’t even thought of yet. But I was so excited, and I wanted to see Sonic so badly. Meeting a fairy only made my desire to see him that much stronger. And whatever problem the fairy was having. Whatever problem it had with me. Sonic I know can solve all of it. He’s my hero after all~♥~

Scene 26 · CLEARED An Elusive Companion, End

-----

And that wraps it up. They are now on their way to find Sonic, and that means it’s also time to move the plot forward a bit. I hope everyone will be looking forward to it!

Thank you everyone!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – What Makes the Sky Blue – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue fantasy Original Soundtrack: Promise

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #sonic oc #draw the koala #patch

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firebrands · 5 years

Text

consider the hairpin turn (steve/tony, bucky/tony)

Two boys, one to love you sweetly One does so discreetly

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark | mature, cheating tw | on ao3

for @desitonystark, ily.

Tony doesn’t mean for it to happen. But, he figures, most people never mean to be sleeping with two people at once.

He’s never thought of himself as a bad person, just someone who does bad things. This is probably a line he learned from his therapist back when he used to see her. Still, it’s a comforting thought as he picks through half-clean clothes strewn on the floor.

Tony’s almost at the subway when he realizes he’s left his wallet at home. Thankfully he’s got some cash tucked away in his day-old jeans that should be enough for a cab to work. As he’s trying to hail a taxi, his thoughts turn sourly to Bucky, whose fault it is that he’s so sleep-deprived.

Finally sitting on the moldy leather of the back seat, Tony realizes that he’s wearing Bucky’s sweater. He’s an hour late for work but he tells the driver to bring him back home, instead.

Tony’s sitting beside Steve, glass of wine in hand, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Steve’s watching the movie, eyes still on the screen as he takes a sip of wine from his own glass. Tony watches the movement, feeling utterly and completely captivated by Steve’s presence.

Steve seems to notice, and turns to Tony with a small, curious smile on his lips. “What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Tony says.

Steve chuckles and leans forward to press a quick kiss on Tony’s lips. “Not enjoying the movie?”

“No,” Tony says, then backpedals. “I mean, I am.” His phone buzzes again. “Do you mind if I have a cigarette real quick, though?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Steve says, still smiling at Tony. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

Tony slips out onto Steve’s balcony and fumbles with his lighter for a bit before the flame catches. He takes a long drag before pulling out his phone.

See you tonight?

Tony frowns at his phone for two reasons. First, because of the strange thrill of anticipation, and second, because Bucky rarely ever texts ahead.

He texts back:

Miss me already?

Tony only has a moment to savor in his triumph: next thing he knows Steve’s arms are around his waist and he startles so badly that he almost drops his phone.

“Done smoking?” Steve asks, pressing feather-light kisses on the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony turns so he’s facing Steve. “Popcorn done?” He asks, doing his best to keep any tremor from his voice. He takes the opportunity to exit from the messaging app and locks his phone.

Instead of answering, Steve leans down to kiss Tony. Steve’s hands wander down Tony’s waist, settling first on his hips, and then further down to squeeze his ass. Tony moans and presses himself closer to Steve, urging him on.

“You could just stay over, you know,” Steve says, fingers light around Tony’s wrist.

“I know, but my clothes--” Tony answers, and it’s a standard conversation at this point, which makes him hate having it even more.

Steve is silent as Tony searches around the room for his underwear, feeling a little silly to be walking around in his half-buttoned shirt and socks on.

After a few minutes, Steve stretches and yawns. “Let me walk you home,” he says, already motioning to stand up.

Tony’s used to this, too, and is quick to stop the movement with a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, it’s only a few stops away,” Tony says, before he bends down to kiss Steve on the lips. “See you on Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him back to bed. “That’s later.”

Tony laughs as Steve peppers his face with kisses. They wrestle around for a moment and Steve pins Tony under him, smiling triumphantly.

“Steve,” Tony says, a small smile still on his face.

Steve presses the tip of his nose against Tony’s. Tony sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the fondness in the way Steve is looking at him.

“I love you,” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss Tony.

Tony kisses back, kisses hard, and hopes that it’s enough to make Steve forget that he didn’t say it back.

Tony isn’t surprised to a half-empty glass of water on the kitchen counter when he gets home. He’s even less surprised to find Bucky lying on his bed in Tony’s sweatpants, his own clothes folded neatly on Tony’s dresser.

“You’re still feeling at home,” Tony says, rolling his eyes as he begins getting undressed.

“‘Course I am. It’s basically still half mine, anyway,” Bucky says, smirking at Tony from where he’s lying down.

Tony huffs, unbuttoning his rumpled shirt and kicking off his pants. Behind him, Bucky chuckles, low and dark.

“C’mere,” Bucky says, pulling Tony onto his lap. “Let me help.”

Bucky expertly undoes Tony’s shirt and slides it off Tony’s shoulders, pressing kisses against Tony’s neck as he does.

“How was your day, doll?” he asks, kissing down Tony’s back, now.

“Good,” Tony mumbles out, already losing himself to the sensation of Bucky’s hands sliding up his stomach. He shifts a little and feels Bucky’s cock pressing against his ass.

Tony’s lying awake, listening to Bucky breathe softly beside him, and he tries to figure out how he got to this point. It’s always a fun game to play with himself, in the little pockets of morning when everyone’s asleep and Tony’s left with his thoughts. How did we get here? How do we get out?

Bucky’s arm tightens around Tony’s waist and he shifts to better settle against Bucky’s chest. Tony falls asleep thinking of Bucky cooking dinner in Tony’s apartment, moving independently around the cupboards, familiar with the space.

When Tony wakes, it’s from a dream of Steve squeezed beside him on the subway, hand warm against Tony’s.

Tony turns to his side, and the bed is empty, sheets still rumpled. His sweats are folded up neatly on his dresser. Tony yawns and rubs at his eyes, willing himself to get ready to work, when he’s startled out of his haze by the doorbell.

“Coming!” he shouts, pulling on a shirt and stumbling towards the door. He throws the door open and finds Steve standing in front of him, two cups of coffee in a small tray.

“Good morning,” Steve says, smiling brightly.

Tony stares for a second, then comes to. “I was just dreaming about you,” he laughs, and does a quick scan of his apartment to see if there’s anything Bucky left behind. The word incriminating floats into Tony's consciousness, but he casts it aside.

Steve notices Tony’s gaze. “Looking for something?” he asks.

Tony flushes at being caught. “No, just making sure my apartment isn’t that much of a mess,” he says, laughing a little and stepping aside to let Steve in. Steve sets the coffee down on the table. “How do you feel about a picnic?” he asks.

Tony picks up his cup of coffee, smiling down at it for a moment before he counters, “how do you feel about a shower?”

Tony watches the Hudson zoom by. Beside him, Steve is tapping his finger to the beat of the music.

Tony remembers Steve tapping the handle of his cup, the first time they got coffee together. He remembers looking up from his little hoard of books in the library at the man blocking his sunlight. He remembers the way the grin formed on his face when Steve had introduced himself and asked if he could borrow one of the books in Tony’s pile.

Steve’s hand on his arm draws him back to the moment.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about the first time we got coffee,” Tony says, because plain honesty gives him relief.

“That’s so sentimental of you,” Steve laughs, and gives Tony’s arm a squeeze. “What made you think of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tony shrugs. “It’s just a good day, is all.”

“And we’ve only started,” Steve says, and raises Tony’s hand to his lips.

Tony smiles at Steve, feeling something he doesn’t want to give a name to swell inside him. “Thanks for planning this, Steve.”

“Thanks for agreeing to come,” Steve laughs, and moves his hand back to the gear stick.

Steve pulls Tony to rest in between his legs as they appreciate the view. Tony leans back against Steve’s chest, secure with Steve’s arms around his waist, and he feels like his heart could burst from how happy he feels.

“This is really nice, Steve,” he says, turning his head to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“It is, isn’t it?” Steve smiles back, and turns to kiss Tony properly.

Steve’s tongue is in his mouth when he realizes: I love him .

Tony pulls away with a jolt, and Steve looks a little confused.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, feeling equal parts amazed and horrified.

Tony watches a smile bloom on Steve’s face and he wishes he could capture that moment and play it back for every time he hates himself.

“I love you, too,” Steve says, and Tony can’t remember a time he’d ever felt so whole. A delighted laugh bubbles out of him, and Steve begins laughing too, and then they’re laughing and kissing and rolling over the sandwiches Steve had laid out and nothing else matters.

They hold hands the entire car ride home, which is kind of a traffic hazard, but the smile on Steve’s face is worth it.

Tony spends his Sunday alone, lying in bed, eyes shut as he plays and replays the memory of Steve smiling at him.

He curls further into himself and thinks that it’s finally time he made a decision. He drags himself out of bed and pours himself a glass of whiskey, staring at Bucky’s name on his phone.

He pours himself two more glasses and has three cigarettes before he presses the call button.

Tony stares at his shaking hands. All he's been are bad decisions; surely, no one can fault him for making a good one, this time. Because it is a good decision, it's better for both of them, to part like this, to part before they hate each other, he thinks. A clean break, a fracture that will hurt like a bitch until eventually bone stitches back to bone and it's like nothing ever happened. Hopefully.

He sits on his windowsill, lit cigarette burning away in his hand, and he knows Bucky hasn't gone inside his car, hasn't left.

Half of him wants to run outside and kiss him. Half of him knows it's better to stay inside, stick to his decision, to hold fast to their agreement of distance.

But all he's been are bad decisions, so he kills the cigarette, pulls out his phone, and presses Bucky’s name on his speed-dial list.

Bucky’s voice cuts out in the middle of the first ring. "Tony?"

"Come back," Tony says, and surely his voice is shaking, now. He wants to scream from how much he hates himself, for wanting this so badly.

“Okay,” Bucky says, and he doesn’t put down the line, letting them hear each other breathe as Bucky walks to Tony’s front door.

“I don’t--” Tony starts, and Bucky surges up against him like a rogue wave, his arms around Tony’s waist in a second, holding him close so tightly that it takes Tony’s breath away.

Tony’s hands are around Bucky’s shoulders and he doesn’t know how he got there, wasn’t thinking to do it. But that’s what it’s been, with Bucky, hasn’t it? Action before thought, pure instinct.

He doesn’t know how long they spend standing there in each other’s arms, Tony’s eyes pressed hard against Bucky’s shoulder, taking shallow breaths against Bucky’s chest.

Bucky digs his face deeper into Tony’s neck, his back bent from how he’s wrapped around Tony, as if wanting to envelop him, as if wanting to subsume him.

Eventually, they part, and Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but Tony won’t let him, doesn’t care to hear whatever excuses he has, instead just moves his hands to wrap around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

They stagger towards Tony's bedroom, and Tony wants to believe that this is all just happening to him, not that he’s making it happen, or that he’s part of it, wants no culpability just as much as he wants Bucky on him, in him, with him.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers.

“What for?”

The silence in the room is punctuated by the sound of traffic. Tony’s thankful for how dark his room is, so he doesn’t have to see the way Bucky looks when he says, “this someone else, you like him a lot, don’t you.”

Tony nods, then realizes Bucky can’t see him, either. “Yes,” he breathes out.

“I’m hoping there’s a ‘but’ here,” Bucky says, and he laughs, but it sounds pained, and Tony reaches out to touch him.

“I can’t,” he says, quietly. “I tried to… I tried not to. But I did.”

“You’re preaching to the choir here,” Bucky laughs again, rough and mirthless.

Tony swallows, and Bucky shifts so he can cup Tony’s jaw in his hand. “I do love you, you know,” Bucky says, leaning in to touch his forehead to Tony’s.

“I know,” Tony says fiercely. “I know you do.” Tony breathes out and raises his hand to hold Bucky’s. “I love you too.”

#stevetony #steve x tony #stony #winteriron #bucky x tony #buckytony #can you believe i made a mood board for this?? I CAN'T #hey - hey look at us. who would have thought. NOT ME.#!!!!! aasfhdfgkjhdfjkgdsj #THIS FIC CONSUMED ME BODY AND SOUL AND I THINK THERE MIGHT BE A PART TWO I REALLY DON'T KNOW I JUST HAD TO WRITE THIS #PLEASE YOUR FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED HAHAFKJDF!!!!#consider the hairpin turn au #cheating tw #cheating cw

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forever-rogue · 5 years

Text

The Edge of Thirty - Part 4

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.

A/N: Yay, part 4! Thank you guys for all the positive response on this series so far! I’m glad you’re all liking it! Enjoy some fluff before the storm! Taglist is open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: fluff, some sad feels (tm) (aka foreshadowing??)

MASTERLIST

It was supposed to be a blissful Saturday morning of sleeping in late and watching up to snuggles from Deacon. As luck would have it lately, routine was thrown out the window, and instead of a nice snooze, the harsh vibrating of her phone stirred Y/N from her zombie-like slumber. The nerve of someone to call this early on a Saturday.

Groaning, she stuck an arm out from under the covers and fumbled around on the nightstand for the buzzing device. After a few seconds of fruitless searching, her fingers came into contact with it and pulled it to her ear, answering without checking who it was. A big mistake.

"Y/N L/N," she cringed and immediately regretted her actions at the sound of her mother's shrill voice. She knew that tone and those inflections very well, having heard them countless times throughout her life. Her mother was livid about something. Y/N remained silent for a few moments wondering is she could just chuck the phone across the phone, "are you there?"

"Hi Mumma," she replied meekly, trying to conjure up an excuse for ending the call as quickly as possible, "I'm here."

"Are you still in bed?" internally sighing, she decided not to entertain her question, "Y/N, it's almost noon. You're a grown adult, quiet lazing about, I'm sure there's plenty of stuff you need to do.”

"Mum,” she sighed, and rubbed the bleariness from her eyes. Next to her, Deacon huffed a little bit and crawled further under covers disappearing so only his tail was sticking out, “I’m a grown adult, I think I can make my own decisions. Besides, it’s the weekend and I’ve had a long week and just want some rest.”

She tutted through the phone, clearly not believing a word coming out of her mouth. As much as she loved Y/N, she always worried about her a little more than her other kids. Y/N had always been the most wild and care free child, never one for decorum and rules, “lovey, you need to start getting your life together-”

“Mum,” she cursed under her breath, holding the phone away from her year. It really wasn’t her week, “I don’t need a lecture right now. I know you think I’m a horrible failure.”

“Y/N,” her mother sounded exasperated on the other line, “I don’t think you’re a failure, whatsoever. You’ve accomplished so much, and you deserve to feel proud. I just worry about you sometimes. All your friends are settling down and moving on to the next chapters in their lives. Especially Lucy and Becca. And Benny too. I spoke to his Mum the other day, and she said you had some kind of fight? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing...look, I know - I know, everyone’s getting married, having babies, and it’s all super exciting!” she sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard, trying to figure out to get her off the phone. She didn’t want to get into this discussion right now. She just wanted a break, “look, Mumma, I’m going to go. I promise I’ll get up and do all the adult things I need to.”

“Lovey, just listen to me for a moment,” her voice changed a little bit, getting more tender and calm, “I love you and care about your well being, that’s all. I just don’t want you to remain the same while all your friends are moving on. It’s okay to change, Y/N, it’s okay embrace getting older. You’re not going to be a twenty-something forever. You don’t have to hang onto the bad things so tightly and refuse to change.”

“I know,” she agreed, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and gnawing at her lower lip, “I’ll be okay. Things will happen when they’re meant to. I don’t like to force things.”

“Just promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, okay? Embrace new things, go out and try new things,” she said softly, “who knows, maybe you’ll even meet a nice man. I know it was hard for you to get over him, but it’s okay to let yourself love again-”

“Love is a strong word,” Y/N shook her head and wished this conversation had never happened. She should have let the phone ring and go to voicemail. A few hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to keep her voice from trembling too much, “besides, I’m not interested in anyone right now.” Lies.

“I’m not saying you have to be, lovey. Just know it’s okay to let people in and to embrace change. I love you so much, I want you to be happy,” her mother paused for a moment, letting out a long breath, “it’s okay to be happy, he would have wanted you too be happy-”

“I am happy, Mum,” Y/N cut her off then and there, not ready to traverse into the dangerous territory she tried so hard to suppress. It was too early on a Saturday morning after the hell of a week she’d had to even think about any of this. She wiped her tears away, telling herself not be weak and cry, “look, I’m going to go. Tell Dad I said hello.”

She didn’t give her mother the chance to say anything else, opting to end the call first. She tossed her phone back on the nightstand, slumping back against the pillows in defeat. She didn’t even want to get out of bed at this point, and decided she’d spend the day there, keeping herself company with Netflix. It had felt like a long week of self isolation, and she was fine with continuing that at this point. Netflix didn’t make her feel bad about every decision she made. Only about the countless hours of binge watching, and that much she could live with.

After talking Deacon for a walk and making him breakfast, or lunch at that point, she flopped back into her warm bed, not even bothering to shower. She hadn’t planned on going out today so she figured it didn’t really matter.

Looking at her phone, she played with it in her hands for a few moments, contemplating if she should call Ben or her friends. Lucy and Becca had sent her a few texts the night before to check in on her but she hadn’t responded. Not out of spite or anger, she just didn’t have the energy. It all seemed to be too much, and yet not enough, at once.

Plus, she had no doubt in her mind that Ben had told them all about their altercation - there were no secrets within their friend group. The look on his face as he had tossed the coffees into the bin had haunted her. She wished she could take it all back, apologize and explain everything in a calm, rational manner.

Knowing it wasn’t a good idea to start anything in her current state of mind, she opted against doing anything and tucked her phone away. Grabbing her remote she turned on Netflix, scrolling through numerous titles to find something to preoccupy her. After what seemed like a small eternity, she settled on The Office once again; seeing the familiar faces of her favorite characters always provided a bit of comfort.

It didn’t take however before she could feel her eyelids getting heavy, the sweet call of sleep reaching out to her. Yawning and clutching her pillow, she rolled onto her side and snuggled into the blankets, pulling them tightly around her. Soon enough, she was in a deep slumber, shifting from dream to dream.

Some included Ben, him yelling at her and ending their lifelong friendship, some included her mother and father, disappointingly lecturing her. A few even included Gwil, looming over her with a self satisfied smile on his face as he whispered as sweet nothings into her ear. It was that last bit that she woke up in the middle of.

“Jesus Christ,” she almost shouted as she awoke with a startle. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest and she tried to calm down. It hadn’t even been a bad dream, but something had caused her to suddenly wake up. It was getting dark in her room by now, the last bits of daylight were barely streaming in through her window.

Pulling out her phone to check the time, she groaned when she saw that it was nearing five. She’d been asleep for longer than she’d planned, not that it made much of a difference when she didn’t have plans. The phone started to buzz in her hand, pulling her back into reality as she glanced at the screen, hoping it wasn’t her mother calling to check back in on her. It wasn’t - it was Gwil.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively after letting it ring a few more times, not wanting to seem to eager. But she sucked in her breath and eagerly waited for his response.

“Y/N? It’s Gwil,” that voice was almost enough to make her melt. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from squealing with delight, she listened for him to continue on, “I hope it’s not too soon for me to be calling?”

“No,” she admitted. She liked that he didn’t mess around or feel the need to stick to all these silly dating rules people seemed to believe in, “I like that you’re calling. It means you’re actually real, not just some figment of my imagination.”

“I promised you I’d call,” he said with a soft laugh, “and I can assure you, if you’d dreamed me up, you’d probably get something a lot better than the actual me.”

As if she thought to herself. From what she had seen of him, he was utter perfection. A classically handsome specimen of a man with a sweet smile and eyes that draw her right in, “you doubt yourself so.”

“Eh, it’s all in good fun,” she could picture him, sitting there, leaned back and shrugging his shoulders casually. She didn’t know him well, but at the same time she felt like she knew so much about already. He seemed to notice her silence as she got lost in her daydream fantasies, “Y/N? Are you still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” her cheeks heated up as she mentally face palmed herself, “I guess I’ve been a little bit spacey as of late.”

“So I’ve heard,” he says quietly, a gentle tone to his voice, “Jenny’s noticed you haven’t been feeling yourself this week.”

“She’s a clever girl,” Y/N laughed, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious to her other students that she has been down and out for the count this week, “there’s just been a lot going on.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had a trying week,” she closed her eyes and wished she was in his arms right now. They probably gave the best hugs, “how about I try and make it a little better?”

“And how do you propose to do that?” she teased him, perking up a bit at the possibility of seeing him again, “I’m not just a cheap shag you know. That was a one time accident.”

“You consider it an accident?” he mused out loud, desperately hoping that it wasn’t true, “because I don’t. Not a typical start to a relationship, but I think we can make it work.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” she agreed quietly, the fact that he deem whatever they had a relationship was not lost on her. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to have a man, a real man, use those words.

“Are you free tonight?” he asked, you gave him a murmur of confirmation, “how about I take to you to dinner, and possibly dessert if you don’t get too sick of me?”

“I’d like that,” she agreed. peeking at her closet and wondered what to wear. She wanted to impress him, but didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard, “it’s been a while since a man hasn’t just asked me to Netflix and Chill.”

“That’s because those weren’t men, those were boys,” he stated like it was a fact, “and we can always come round to mine, if you really want to watch Netflix.”

“I’ve got my own,” she stated confidently, a surge of confidence coursing through her veins, “maybe this time you can round to my place. But we’ll see how it goes. Perhaps you’ll find me terribly drool.”

“I don’t think that’s possible with you,” he replied, and you bit the inside of her cheek to keep from squealing in delight, “How about I pick you up at six? Text me your address and be prepared to be wined and dined.”

“You’re setting very high expectations for yourself, Mr. Lee,” she giggled as she climbed out of bed and stumbled to her closet to start sifting through her clothes.

“Don’t worry, I intend to deliver,” she could just picture the smug little smirk on his handsome features, “I’ll see you soon, love.”

“Bye Gwil,” she smiled to herself as she ended the call. Looking at the time she saw it was already a quarter past five. She wouldn’t have much time to make herself look decent before he arrived at her doorstep. She stripped off her clothes and ran into the bathroom, cursing silently under breath. She didn’t really know why, but she wanted things to go perfectly with him - it was like she needed him already.

At six on the dot, a knock came at her door, causing Y/N to panic slightly. She was dressed and had her makeup lightly done, but hadn’t done much else.

She hadn’t even had the time to straighten up, leaving her flustered and feeling like the apartment was a mess. To hell with it she thought to herself as she almost tripped over a pair of shoes that she had left by the front door.

“Hey!” she almost shouted as she pulled open the door, trying to slow the thumping of her heart. It was partly due to her nerves, and from her rush to the door. He stood there, eyebrow raised with a smile on his face, and a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Her breath hitched in her throat at the beautiful sight in front of her. He looked stunning of course, wearing a blue button up which showed off his toned torso, and well-fitting slacks., his hair styled perfectly, “holy - wow.”

“Hello to you too,” he beamed at her, giving her the once over. She suddenly felt under dressed next to him; she had opted for a simple sundress. He stepped inside and leaned down to kiss her cheek, hanging over the flowers, “you look very pretty.”

“I look horrible compared to you,” she almost huffed, taking the flowers gently and giving them a sniff. They were lovely, just like him. Deacon scurried into the room and barked lightly at Gwil to get his attention. He bent down and obliged him, giving some scratches and pets behind his ears. She watched them closely as she grabbed a vase and arranged the flowers gently, making sure they were all properly displayed. Deacon seemed to be taken with Gwil, “he likes you. He’s a good judge of character.”

“I like him too and your place. Very bohemian,” he said as he straightened back up, tilting his head to the side and observing her. She had the faintest hint of color in her cheeks, which he had already decided he liked. She caught him staring and just shook her head, “you don’t look horrible by the way. No one will even spare me a second glance once they see you.”

“You’re such a flatterer,” she smirked, “you’ve already gotten in my pants, so there’s no need, really.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” he held out his hand to her, which she gladly took, feeling all sorts of butterflies in her stomach. No one had made her feel anything close to this in ages, “how do you feel about Italian?”

“My favorite,” she smiled at him, giving Deacon a wave of goodbye as she shut the door behind them, “just so you know, I’m already impressed. Flowers, my dog likes you, and my favorite food? I could get used to this.”

“I hope you do, Y/N,” he held open the door for her, and led her outside in the warm, summer evening breeze. He held open the car door for her, making sure she was safely inside before shutting the door gently and getting into the driver’s side, murmuring silently to him, “I sure hope you do.”

Dinner with Gwil was easy. There wasn’t a single awkward moment between the two of them and somehow, Y/N had no clue as to why, it felt like they had already known each other for ages.

He was the epitome of a dream: he pulled out her chair for her, let her order dinner, and selected a wine that went perfectly with everything.

Conversation never skipped a beat and it was easy to get lost in his stories, watching him intently as his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took the time to speak about himself and ask Y/N about her own life. She’d gone and told him about her awful week, her fight with her best friend, and how the world seemed to be against her lately. But he nodded in understanding and reassured her that it was all normal, a part of growing up and older. It made the heavy pit in her stomach feel a little better. If he survived so effortlessly, maybe she could too.

The two of them talked about anything and everything came that up. It was all so natural, so no moments of ‘oh I wish I hadn’t said that’ or 'oh dear’ occurred. They had agreed to be honest with one another, because after all, a solid foundation was the cornerstone of a successful relationship. And Y/N had done that - she had been brutally honest about everything. Almost everything.

“Have you ever had an actually serious relationship?” Gwil asked as he took a bite of steak, flushing it down with a sip of red wine. Y/N froze in time, gripping her fork so tightly that her knuckles were starting to turn ghost white. For whatever reason, he hadn’t noticed, “love?”

“No,” she choked out, avoiding his cerulean gaze as she intently stabbed at the pasta on her plate. Part of her was nagging at her to just to tell him now, to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not now, “not really. I hope that doesn’t turn you off.”

“It’s not a big deal, just my curiosity,” he gave her a sly wink, nudging her foot with his gently under the table. This time he had noticed a different look in her eyes, but chose not to bring it up just yet.

“What about you?” she asked, wondering what he would tell her. It was hard for her to believe that someone like him, an almost unreal iteration of a man, was a perpetual bachelor.

“Ahh, I was wondering if you were going to ask. You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he cheekily raised his eyebrows at her, causing a rush of blood to flow to her cheeks, “I was…engaged to be married for a time.”

“What happened?” she almost blurted out, her interest peaked and at an all time high. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but the half smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We were together for about three years,” he admitted, “and after two years I asked her to marry me and she said yes. About halfway through planning the wedding I found out that she’d been sleeping with one of my colleagues for almost two years. Needless to say, things did not end well.”

“I’m so sorry,” her heart broke a little for him. He seemed liked such a genuinely kind person, it was hard to imagine anyone doing this to him. He left a small laugh and shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'c'est la vie.’ She reached over and grabbed his hand, “no one deserves to have their heartbroken like that, especially you.”

“I’m not hung up on her in the slightest. Besides, it was already almost two years ago now,” he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear him, “I hope I haven’t scared you off, Y/N. Because I really like you already.”

“I really like you too, Gwil,” she bit at her lip slightly.

Gwil had promised her dessert and made good on his promise, just like the gentleman he was. He had taken her to his favorite little shop, a hole in the wall unsuspecting sort of place, and had let her have free reign. The two of them left the shop with big bowls of the most delicious ice cream, brimming with toppings.

“Why don’t we go back to my place?” she suggested, trying to not seem just desperate to get in his pants. She just genuinely enjoyed his company and wanted to spend more time with him, “that way we can eat dessert in peace. Plus, you can enjoy my awful Netflix suggestions.”

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” he agreed, deciding to be cheeky and take a bite of her ice cream. She jokingly pouted as he made sure to like every last bit of the spoon, “are you just going to keep staring?”

“Oh, shut up and get in the car,” she had gotten caught staring again. Oh, what he must have thought of her.

“Please explain to me why you’ve got this many movies and shows on your watch list, when all you do is watch The Office?” he flicked through her queue and she smacked his arm in defeat. They were cuddled up in her bed together, deciding to forgo the awkwardness of cuddling on the couch before moving into the bedroom. Besides, that bridge had already been crossed.

“Because it’s a relatable and re watchable show,” she insisted, finishing off her last bits of ice cream. He snickered but decided to oblige her and put it on where she had left off from, “you don’t have to watch it just because of me!”

“I want to though,” he promised her. He put his arm around her, and she instinctively snuggled into his side, resting her head his chest. He smelled delicious; a warm, musky sort of smell mixed with his natural body chemistry. It was almost intoxicating. His heartbeat was strong and steady and she closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm, “besides, I’ve technically never watched any of this show.”

“What!?” she was feeling wide awake and eagerly grabbed the remote from his hand. She paused the show and looked at him, putting a hand on his cheek, “Gwilym Lee. You’ve singlehandedly missed out on the best show of the century! We’re doing this properly – from the beginning and you’re going to watch every episode with me and only me.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he gave her a dazzling smile, “but I’ll agree to your terms.”

“Good,” she quickly scrolling to the very first episode, “now sit back and enjoy.”

They made it through several episodes, before she felt herself grow tired with sleep. He still held onto her tightly, tracing shapes into the exposed skin on her arm, as she had laid on his chest. His long legs were tangled together with hers, and he was sure this was the most comfortable he had ever been. Having her in his arms felt righter and more natural than just about anything else.

He started to feel himself slip away, and noticed she was snoring ever so lightly. He smiled and kissed the top of her head, which caused her to stir slightly.

“Gwil?” she asked as she turned and looked up at him, glad he had stayed with her, “you’re still here.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he confessed, feeling suddenly shy under her probing gaze, “u-unless you want me to?”

“No,” she said firmly, shifting so she was looking at him completely, “stay with me.”

He reached over and grabbed her face gently, pulling her in for a soft, sweet kiss, the taste of ice cream still lingering on their lips. When he pulled away, she beamed at him and give him one last peck before laying back down and facing him, ghosting her fingers along his jawline, stopping when she reached his chest. Part of her was screaming at her to just keep going and have him ravish her, but the larger part was content with this – lying down and gently gazing into each other’s eyes. It was sweet, and it made her heart flutter to find him looking back at her with such adoration.

He draped an arm around her waist and pulled her close so their bodies were against each other, and nuzzled his face in the space between her neck and shoulder. He hummed in content, and they remained still like that for a while. It was, to put it simply, perfection.

The next morning, Y/N woke up and found herself in bed alone. She frowned at the realization that he had gone and left without saying a word. She slipped out of bed, but stopped when she heard humming and light singing coming from the kitchen. Poking her head out, she spied Gwil there, cooking away, Deacon watching him intently for any scraps of food. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up and gave her a smile and a wave with his spatula.

“Good morning, darling,” he beamed as she walked over to him. He leaned across the island and gave her a gentle kiss, “hope you’re hungry!”

“You stayed,” she breathed out, still soaking it all in, “and made me breakfast?”

“I took Deacon for a walk this morning too. I had fun with the little guy,” he added liked it was no big deal, “besides, I promised you breakfast after our first…evening together, so I’m making up for it. I make good on my promises.”

“I…thank you, Gwil. That’s very kind of you,” a new weird coursed through her veins. It was a feeling of such appreciation, happiness, and gratitude. She wasn’t sure about a lot of things in life, but she was already sure about him. That was the one thing she knew. Gwilym Lee was a keeper.

Monday morning had come around way too soon. She had been sad to say goodbye to Gwil the evening before, he had stayed over at hers the rest of the day, the impending doom of the upcoming week looking over her. It meant it was back to reality from the blissful weekend she had shared with Gwil.

Putting a happy face, she walked into her empty classroom and sat at her desk, gathering her lesson plans and getting everything ready for the day. At least her students would cheer her up; they always brought a smile to her face.

A knock came at her door that pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked up to find Ben standing there, a nervous, shy smile on his face, and two coffees in his hand. She could almost cry at the sight, the simple gesture brought her so much joy, filling a bit of the hole in her heart.

“Can we stop this?” he asked quietly as she got up and quickly crossed the room, so she was standing in front of him. She looked at him, already feeling tears in her eyes as she nodded lightly, “because I miss you like crazy.”

“Benny,” she through her arms him and he hugged her back tightly, taking care not to spill the coffees, “I missed you so, so much. I’m sorry, let’s never fight again.”

“I missed you too,” he sighed happily, pulling back and handing over her coffee, “I’m sorry for how I acted. Like an arrogant fool.”

“I’m sorry too,” she agreed, clinked cup against his, “I love you, Ben, and one little fight won’t tear us apart.”

“I love you too,” Ben concurred, “but just so you know, I’m going to need the full story on everything – including this man.”

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