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lis-likes-fics · 3 months

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The Sound of His Voice

Pairings: Spencer Reid x agent!Reader Word Count: 3k words Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/vague gore, mentions of death and murder, standard Criminal Minds stuff, fluff otherwise... A/N: I started watching CM a while ago and now I can't stop so enjoy this. There will be more, I dunno when. (Should I be working on my months-in-progress-wips? Yes, I absolutely should. Am I? Mostly. I'm trying my best)

Morgan rubs his temple, digging his fingers into the side of his forehead as he shakes his head. Tapping his pen on the desk, he tosses down his file. “But here's what I don't get,” he says, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. “If the unsub thinks of his victims as prey, even going as far as to torture the victim, why go through all the trouble of tucking them into bed?”

Hotch looks back at the picture in his own hands, where he had been analyzing the scene for the hundredth time in search of something he missed the first hundred. He shrugs, “Tucking them in can usually indicate signs of remorse.”

JJ motions to the pictures. “Yeah, but look at this guy. Does this look remorseful to you?”

You lift a shoulder, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Could be a second unsub.”

You are a relatively new addition to the team. It was your fifth case with them, but they already treated you like part of the team, like family. It was easy to sink into the ebb and flow of everything, especially when they trust your skills and instincts and let you know when you're doing something wrong so you know not to do it again.

But this case was difficult. Your unsub had a strange profile: an organized, white male, with surgical experience and the MO reminiscent of a cat. He kills men and women alike, and the only connection between his victims have been their smaller statures.

The age range itself was too wide, though there was a slight reoccurrence of ages between 25 and 35. But it was still too wide, either way, not enough to work with.

He ties up and tortures them before finally ending their lives with strangulation. He uses his bare hands to get the job done, which makes him a sexual sadist. As if that wasn't enough, he carves out the victim’s heart after death and takes it as a trophy.

He shows plenty of psychopathic characteristics, but he also fits the profile of a sociopath, so it's hard to make anything stick. His MO suggests a lack of empathy and guilt, but the bed-tucking… You always lose him with the bed-tucking…

Morgan shakes his head a little, humming. “But we already ruled out multiple unsubs,” he says. You nod gently. “Besides, if this guy is mimicking the hunting habits of a cat, he would hunt alone, wouldn't he?”

Reid’s head perks up. He points a pen in Morgan's direction as he shakes his head. “Actually, no.” He licks his lips, and he's grabbed your attention like a siren to a sailor. “It's a very common misconception that cats are loners, but it's untrue. Cats prefer the companionship of others just as much as a human being would.”

You lean toward him a bit across the table, watching him as he speaks, his hands moving to illustrate his words as he does. “People often think, because of their aloof nature, that they like to be left alone or actually despise the presence of other people, including their owners or other cats—which is why people believe them to be low maintenance creatures. But they are just as social as, say, a dog. Actually, it's interesting, big cats like lions, or sometimes even cheetahs, hunt in packs to take down larger prey. Domestic cats–”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, making a cutting motion with his hand to his neck.

Your eyes turn back to Spencer, who seems to retreat in on himself a bit as he gives an apologetic smile and a small nod. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his lips in a wide smile.

You set a hand on the table, shaking your head. “No, keep going. That was interesting.”

Spencer looks at you with these eyes that seem to shine. Your heart feels fonder, warmer, at the sight of him.

“We really don't have time to go through all of this,” Hotch says, his tone final.

“I mean,” you continue. Since joining the team, you've grown a certain affinity toward Spencer and his genius mind. Every time he's gone on his tangents, you've become enchanted by the words coming out of his mouth like he's put some sort of spell over you. You lift a shoulder, gesturing toward him. “If this guy is basing his MO off the hunting patterns of cats, we should…know everything we need to know about them, right?”

Hotch looks at you, his face hard and unreadable. You're unsure if he's considering your proposal or just trying to intimidate you. But then he sighs, his crossed arms loosening a little as he turns to Spencer.

“Reid?”

Spencer looks between you and Hotch, relenting hesitantly as he starts off slow. “Well…I was going to say domestic cats are solitary hunters but sociable creatures.” He picks up his normal speed once more, “They can be very affectionate, especially toward their owners and other cats within their households. They're also one of the only types of cats who play with their prey before killing them, which could be a reason this unsub tortures his victims so extensively in his murders.”

“Wait…” Prentiss says, catching all of your attentions. “You said ‘affectionate toward their owners’.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods.

She waves her hands gently, “How do cats show affection for their owners?”

Spencer shrugs, “Um, bunting, purring, some scratch, sometimes they leave offerings, like dead rodents, around the house–”

“Right there!” Prentiss exclaims. “They leave offerings.”

You sit up, “The hearts.”

Hotch’s dark brows furrow. “You're saying this unsub is taking the hearts as an offering to someone else?”

Spencer thinks over that, nodding. “It's possible.”

JJ sighs. “But that still doesn't explain why we wouldn't have identified a second unsub earlier.”

Spencer holds out a hand, pointing with his pen. “Actually, it could. You see, cats also have the tendency to mimic the people they hold affection for. We might not have noticed a second MO because the submissive unsub may be mimicking the dominant one.”

“Or learning from him,” Morgan says.

“Learning?” Hotch asks.

Morgan glances around, “Well, if we're sticking so close to this cat thing, older cats often nurture the young and teach them to hunt.” He shrugs, “We could be looking at…brothers? Older and younger?”

“Or lovers,” JJ suggests. She points to a picture, the image of a chest carefully carved open to reveal a missing heart. “If the hearts are offerings, it could be a Valentine.”

“And the bed-tucking?” you ask.

Hotch picks up the picture of one of the victims, “safely” and securely tucked into bed…put to sleep. “Well, if the hearts are offerings for a lover, this unsub is sentimental. He could feel some type of sympathy or guilt for the victim and want to ‘put them to sleep’ after the torture.” He studies the image, a flash of unease behind his eyes that you know all too well. He sets it down.

“Okay, so how do we find them?” Prentiss asks, clicking her pen before setting it down to begin a definitive course of action.

Spencer points to yet another picture. “Look at these injuries. These incisions are surgical,” he clarifies. “So the dominant is a doctor or a—a veterinarian, which can be implied through his intimate knowledge of cats’ behaviors.”

“And the submissive might work under him as a nurse or an assistant,” you continue, adding on to his clever insight. He glances over at you, smiling almost giddily at your understanding.

Hotch turns to Morgan. “Do you think that's enough to work with?”

Morgan thinks for a moment, his shrug melding into a nod as he turns back to Hotch. “To fit in with the rest of the profile,” he hums, “I'd say so.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods firmly. “We'll present the profile ASAP. Morgan, get Garcia to search for any vets in the area with any records of assault charges.” He says this all while taking long strides toward the door, his red tie bouncing slightly with his movements.

Prentiss follows him with her gaze as he exits. “You think the unsub is aggressive?”

He turns briefly. “Look at the bruising on the neck. The torture alone is an indicator of anger and frustration, but the way the victim was strangled suggests force. Much more than necessary just to crush a windpipe. He's an organized killer with a lot of rage. If he moves more along the lines of a sociopath, our best guess is he's had some kind of trouble with the law at some point in his life,” he concludes. Glancing aside, he speaks again, a little more firmly. “Morgan.”

“On it,” he says, his phone already ready to contact Garcia on speed dial.

“And Reid,” Hotch says, focusing his hard stare on the younger agent.

He stiffens, straightening his back and awaiting his response. “Yes?”

There's a pause as Hotch examines him silently. With a single nod, he says, “Good work.”

He glances at you. A nod.

You nod back.

Hotch leaves in a hurry, and your gaze immediately and instinctively flicks to Spencer. He smiles at you, turning away as though he was shyly hiding that same smile.

There were two unsubs: a surgical veterinarian and his nurse. You caught them just in time, just as that knife was gleaming in the golden light of the lamps swinging above the three bodies down in the basement of the submissive unsub’s house.

And now you soared 40,000 feet above the ground with another killer put away for good.

Everyone's in their own spirit, placing you across the aisle from JJ and Spencer in their own booths, a crochet set in your lap as you continue one of your projects. Emily's eyes linger on JJ, watching the crease of her brow as she studies case files.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, setting her book to the side to shift her attention. Derek darts his eyes up from his own book, lifting his brow as he does it.

JJ looks up, breathing in and lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “I don't know about you,” she says, “but I know that if I got an actual human heart on Valentine's Day, me and my alleged partner would have some serious issues.”

Snorts and chuckles lift from multiple places among the seats, heads shaking and attentions shifting back to their own activities.

But as soon as you hear the first lilt of Spencer's voice, like clockwork, you're a fish on a hook.

“Actually,” he begins, “if we were set back thousands of years, that would not be a very unusual occurrence.” He licks his lips quickly, “You see, Valentine's Day’s origins actually go back to a festival called Lupercal, or Lupercalia. The festival was in itself a very violent and sexually charged affair that lasted roughly three days—from the 13th to the 15th—set in Rome. Its traditions were carried out in two separate locations, firstly–”

“Alright,” JJ rises to her feet, her eyes wide in annoyance as she closes her case file in a large announcement to Spencer. “I'm getting coffee. Do you want anything?”

Spencer purses his lips, that same wide, apologetic grin covering his face as he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Uh, no. All good here.”

She nods, turning to walk away, “Great.”

You watch JJ leave, your eyes fall back upon Spencer, who's pulling his book back into his palms to turn his focus back on the pages. His eyes flit over the words at lightning speed, absorbing the information and moving to the next.

Taking your crochet set in your hands, you stand and plop down in JJ’s old spot. Spencer's eyes darts up to you, glancing between you and his book as you set your stuff down and readjust your yarn.

Beginning again, you nod toward him. “You were saying?”

Spencer, his eyes wide and confused and his lips parted in wonder and his cheeks a little pink, stares at you. After remembering he had to respond, he sputters in an attempt to.

“Uh, it's-it's really not that…interesting,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end as he sets his book down, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the desk between the both of you.

“Well,” you look up at him, setting your elbow on the table and tucking your first underneath your chin, “I was very interested.”

His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. His lips form the word before it comes out of his mouth. “You were?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Looking at him for a moment—just looking at him for a moment—you take in the pretty sight of his bewildered expression, fascination and confusion and excitement crossing his face in a flurry of emotion.

You move your elbow from the table and pick up your hook, nodding toward him before training your eyes on your work again as you await his words. “Firstly?” you prompt.

Scrambling to organize his thoughts, Spencer nods. As the words form in his brain, he smiles as he thrusts himself into another rant, speaking a little softer so as not to aggravate the rest of the team.

“Well, firstly, the uh— The-the first location was in a cave called Lupercus—named after the Roman fertility god that the celebration was dedicated to—and the second is a public meeting place called the Comitium.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling a little. “Like the word ‘committee’.”

“Exactly like the word ‘committee’,” he beams.

Your attention, as hard as you tried to split it, becomes entirely caught up in Spencer as you forget about your project and focus your gaze entirely on him. You set your arms on the table separating you and watch as he speaks, your smile definitely too love-sick to be a hint anymore. He seems to lean in closer.

“So how did Lupercalia become Valentine's Day?” you wonder aloud.

“Well,” he starts, prompting a larger grin from you, “in the late 5th century A.D., Pope Gelasius I eliminated it and declared February 14th a day to celebrate the martyrdom of Saint Valentine instead—although it's highly unlikely he intended the day to commemorate love and passion as it is celebrated now. In fact, some modern biblical scholars warn Christians not to celebrate Valentine's Day at all, due to its Pagan roots and rituals.”

You hum, your eyes taking glances at the stretch of his skin over his fingers and the way they move when he speaks.

“Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?” you ask gently, speaking slowly.

His hands fall back down to his lap, and he shakes his head as he straightens his posture a bit. “Well…I don't usually have anyone to celebrate it with, so… No, not really.”

Feeling the shyness slipping into your veins, you set your hands on the table and let your fingers slowly inch toward him, staring at them inside of his eyes. You don't want to see the rejection if it lives there, in his eyes.

You speak slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Would you like to have someone to celebrate it with?”

He swallows thickly, letting one hand lift onto the table, still close to him but building up courage to maybe meet you in the middle. “Like…” he clears his throat quietly. “Like you?”

You offer a right smile, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his and feeling giddy at the light blush on his cheeks, the nervous wideness of his gaze. “I promise no actual hearts.”

You watch him, and again…his eyes, his Adam's apple, his cheeks, his lips. “Uh…yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, sure. I'll be your…your Valentine.”

You smile, a wide smile that splits your face in two. Spencer's own grin follows suit. Looking past you, he catches the eyes of Derek, who smirks and offers a cheesy thumbs up, proud of him for securing you as he did.

His gaze falls back to you when you begin to speak, your voice just as song-ish to him as his is to you. You're both equally as infatuated as the other. “You know,” you trail off slowly, “supposedly, Saint Valentine might be so commonly associated with our day of love because there are rumors that he used to perform secret weddings against the wishes of the authorities in the third century.”

He nods slowly, his brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that's right…” Licking his bottom lip, he speaks again. “You already knew all that stuff about Lupercalia, didn't you?”

You smile, your face squished a bit as you raise your hands and close your thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little,” you whisper. But then you shrug and just keep looking at him. “But I like listening to you talk.”

Spencer suddenly doesn't think you're real, but he isn't about to question it if you aren't. There's someone who enjoys his tangents. He isn't going to jeopardize that.

“Oh,” is all he says.

With your crocheting long forgotten, you lean forward on the table and give him every ounce of attention in your mind. With a fond smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye, you rest your chin on your folded hands. “You should tell me about…” you pause, thinking, before you smile curls even more, “bees.”

His brows lift as he nods. “Okay, well,” he starts, “did you know the first civilization to practice widespread, organized beekeeping was the Ancient Egyptians, who began beekeeping around 2,500 BCE?”

Your brows lift in fascination. You shake your head, “No, I didn't.”

His smile grows. “Well…”

For the remainder of the flight, Spencer talks and talks and talks, his voice quiet and meant solely for you as he talks about whatever you want: bees and wine and marbles and Halloween. He keeps smiling at you, as you keep smiling at him. Somewhere along the way, he officially asks you on a date, and you both get off the jet together to get a cup of coffee.

You love the way he talks.

Criminal Minds taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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scummy-writes · 4 months

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Scum talks about OCs

In this I'm just going to go over my Ocs in sections of their own. I'm not really using a special Oc template, I'm just talking about them and what fics they appear in, because to be blunt, I do write 'reader inserts', but some fics are written with these ocs in mind even if they're not detailed out specifically.

I'm just chatting about for fun, this will not change how I write currently. I would not expect fanfics about these characters specifically.

Amélie - Drawn by @beni-draw-ikemen-please. (Full picture is her in a chair with Isaac sittin on the arm of it, and Arthur resting his head on her lap <3 I love it)

Anju, made with a Picrew here. I think her expression is a bit too gentle here, and she would mainly wear warmer yellows or cool toned blues, not the shirt in the image.

SS from Prince of my WIP OC for it, since she's fuckin impossible to make on picrews. Her current name is Constance.

I am honestly surprised people showed some interest in this, so bear with me through my bumbling please. A lot of these say 'mc' but they are 'reader insert' fics still. Previous fandoms had 'mc' interchangable with 'reader' so...

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, just know I might not have all the answered.

╰❧ Amélie

Amélie has been around for a few years, and Beni has been a saint for letting me comm her to draw her. Because of this, I was able to make a character profile for her Here. Additionally, a much older one Here that details some vague things about her past, and including her past with Sebastian (Childhood friends).

-> Fanfics she has been 'in': Breathless Discoveries (Isaac/Mc), Mental Gravity (Isaac/Mc), Blessed Accidents (Isaac/Mc), Exercise in Restraint (Isaac/Mc), Temptations (Arthur/Mc), A Helping Hand (Arthur/Mc), His (Theo/Mc), Playful Punishments [vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Midnight Impulses [Vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Musings (Isaac/Mc), Oral Prompt with Isaac, First Steps (Isaac/Mc), The Talk (Isaac/Mc), The Shirt Thief (Isaac/Mc), Isaac Overworking (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Awkward Dates (Isaac/Mc), and likely some other small drabbles I have missed...!

─❧ Summary: (Brief mentions of abuse/SA/Trauma but not explicit details)

A lot of her general background is covered in the second character profile I linked above. It sounds vague, and well! That is because it is a bit traumatic. I don't want to gloss over the fact that she has been through a lot, primarily SA, but I don't like focusing entirely on it to where that is the Only thing about her. Her previous job was ... an 'idol'? I never fleshed it out fully, due to self embarassment, but I wanted her to be a singer with a 'small' following, who got connected with shitty producers and signed a contract way too young without understanding the full implications of it, which caused most of her money to not actually be Hers. Due to her parents strongly against her career choice, going as far as rushing a contract ended up having her cut off from her family. With Sebastian gone, her support network disappeared completely.

She Vaguely goes over this in Patchworked Pieces (be mindful of tags), which was supposed to be a full fanfic detailing her story, but I am not meant for long fanfics at all so I posted what scenes I had typed enough with. on the chapter On Failed Attempts, she details a bit more of her experiences.

How she met Comte was through the normal opening of visiting the muesuem. She did it under distress and wanting a distraction, she was weighing options and considing some pretty awful things! I like to think Comte could tell she was beside herself and trying to calm down a little. I like to think he could sense the distress and the thing she was contemplating, and led her back to the mansion.

Which! Is rocky. She's terrified of everyone, until she sees Sebastian, and he helps ease her into her mansion life. She never tells Sebastian what she went through, due to worries and fears that he would manage to blame himself. So in her story, he never finds out.

Isaac is the primary person who knows some details, but not everything. She'd tell both him and Arthur some bare minimums, just so that when things got intimate, her panic attacks for 'random' reasons wouldn't make them believe it was because of them.

As for how they all entangle with each other? Well... Amélie is not what brings them together, necessarily.

Before she arrives, Arthur attempts to get close to Isaac. It is platonic at first, perhaps he had a crush on him but waves it off. But alcohol is introduced, they start 'drinking' together (Isaac is still a lightweight so he barely builds up his tolerance, mostly keeps Arthur some company), and...They get too tipsy and adventurous with each other. Arthur gets ashamed immediately. Not out of doing things with another man, because it was clear he was using Isaac to get over some trauma. So he avoids, hides, and their friendship crumbles.

And after that is when Amélie stumbles into the mansion.

Her friendship with Isaac is the most prevelant. And after getting on a better start with Arthur, they end up slowly getting entangled with each other. Isaac, unfortunately, deals with the brunt of her panic attacks. Finds scars, attempts to heal them.

It's through healing that they all twine together. Helping each other face their traumas, face what happened between them all.

Ironically, her love for singing was bounced in and out of the story. I wanted a few scenes where she tries to play in one of the many secluded rooms in the mansion- finds an old piano while cleaning, places a few notes. But I don't think she'd be able to any time soon. I think she would need a break for a year or two, before she started exploring music again. Or anything super creative.

I like to imagine that she is friends with a majority of the residents. When she is faring better, she paints with Leonardo and Vincent. She listens to Mozart play, reads what Dazai and Arthur write, so on so forth. I want her to live in a house with Arthur and Isaac, later on, visiting the mansion weekly or every two weeks, happy with her new life.

Sometimes I pair her with Theo, because I think they could help each other, but I think she is fated to be with Isaac and Arthur.

In AUs, I like to imagine Anju as her older friend. Anju does not tolerate a lot of bullshit with Amélie, and would be a bit like a guard dog. But. an unassuming one. She would treat Arthur very harshly until he proves himself. (I am unsure if I ever posted it, but I wrote a few chapters to go with This Au Fic for Isaac week. The second chapter, Anju was supposed to be a witch to help Amélie out after some events [was gonna have Isaac die and then it turn into a reincarnation au thing where they meet again in modern day, and in modern day Anju was gonna be around], and Anju has to help her move forward.)

I've been typing this on and off for a few hours and I am struggling with some details HAHA for now, I will stop here. She's the one OC that has a lot out there for her.

Oh. Amélie is not her 'real' name, but it is now. I am unsure if it is in poor taste or not, but in an attempt to heal she abandoned a lot of her old life. Not Herself, but trying to let go of the past until she could confront it more. She goes by Amélie until the end of her days, and only Sebas and likely Comte know her old name.

╰❧ Anju

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Training Theo (Theo/Reader)

─❧ Summary: (Vague mentions of parental issues)

OoooOOoooOh Anju....anju....wails.

She is such a complicated Oc for me. She was originally for Shingen in ikes*n (i dont want this on the tags on accident). I still debate if the character she is now still stems from that relationship or not. Because if so, that means she left the past and came back to the present because her and Shingen didn't work out. Not in a TERRIBLE way but probably a sad mutual understanding.

It's either that, or she's just pretty sour from general past relationships not working out.

I like to imagine that she is in her thirties, and that she lives in a neighborhood where everyone knows each other in friendly ways. She is a 'seamstress' just due to how Sengoku has that set up for the Mc. I decied that her grandmother taught her how to sew, and her grandmother owned a small shop to repair peoples clothes and sew clothes for commission as well (i know nothing about how this works so). She would help her grandmother at her shop, and later on when her grandmother passed, she would take over the shop.

As for her parents, I never fully fleshed them out. I just know her mother was constantly comparing herself to other children/people around her, and that their relationship dissolved to the point of Anju refusing to aknowledge her as a mother any longer. The crux of this would cause Anju to move the shop to a different location completely to sever ties. (not move physically, but open another shop elsewhere after funds were saved with the same name).

For Vamp, she relocates her ass to France for Reasons. And here is where it is... well. I don't think a shop like this could exist, but i wish it would. pls spare me from laughs HAHA

The shop I always imagined is the type where the ground floor is the shop, and upstairs is where Anju lives. So upstairs would house her kitchen, living room, and Bedroom and bathroom, a balcony connected to the kitchen would be. great. Lower floor would have the shop, her sewing area, a room to hang up comms and etc, and the 'front' of the shop. Front of the shop is the porch and the actual like...foyer area....of the shop.

She spends a lot of her time sitting in the foyer area at a desk, if she is not actively working on sewing. .....I like to imagine she has a small sitting area set up there for people (children, family, friends, partners, etc) waiting while whoever she is working on measurements and etc with is getting their stuff. With....a lil coffee/tea area....very very small like a coffee maker and some stuff....but cozy vibes... (and she wanted a coffee machine near her while working).

She'll sit on the porch often in the mornings while waiting for customers or going through shop bills and whatever, and that is how she meets Arthur in a modern day setting. By him taking 'Vic' (or whatever pet he is on now) on a walk, Vic escaping, and running up to Anju because he wants pets HAHA.

For first meeting, Anju thinks Arthur is cute, but recognizes the fuckboy tendances. However, i feel like at this point of living as a vampire for so long, Arthur wouldn't be how he is in the game currently. As in, not entirely as self destructive and a smidgen more at peace with himself, but still has the tendencies. She doesn't think too much on the meeting, loves Vic though, and goes from there...

But Arthur doesn't. He gets hung up on her a little, and finds excuses to run into her a bit more. Nothing crazy, but primarily just walking Vic by there and seeing if he can catch her on the porch again, waving, exchanging greetings and pets for Vic. It would turn into him eventually finding an excuse to get some clothing mended, which she can very easily tell is bullshit, but she entertains it because... he's respectful the whole time. She enjoys the company and the innocent flirting.

It comes to a clusterfuck when they spot each other at a bar though. Where he sees how differently she's dressed, where it's clear she's looking for one night stands and nothing else. (He is also alarmed at her smoking HAHA). Arthur doesn't do much with this information, but she immediately tries shutting him out because. Well, she isn't ashamed to have casual sex with others, but she doesn't want the fuckboy tendancies to come back for him. She doesn't want this fake relationship to delve into sex and nothing more. So she puts up walls, and Arthur has to slowly take them down. And it is a rocky thing, because Anju is so independant and refuses to rely on anyone else, so it's a LOT of trouble HAHA a lot of dramatics.

They do fuck, because well they both enjoy sex so why not!!!!! but ah. it's complicated. I think I have a scene of that somewhere. I cannot remember if I have that happen before or after him visiting her home/shop at night when he's drunk. I think it was before.

But Arthur was supposed to go to her place, drunk, because she has such a schedule with her shop/hobbies that it's easy to piece together that she's home, and she essentially lets him stay over in pity because he's wailing about messing up his friendship with Theo.

From there it turns into awkward, more up in the air things. I played with her getting with Arthur only, Theo only, Arthur and Theo, or even Vincent! But the Arthur/Theo subplot would have been too similar to the Isaac/Arthur one in Amélie's story. (Sorry for causing you so much distress, Arthur).

I like to imagine her in her shop. Arthur flirting with her while the neighborhood granny laughs at her attempts to ignore the flirting.

╰❧ Constance

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Sinking (Gilbert/Reader) [Descriptions of Self Harm], First Time (Gilbert/Reader), Chev comforts Mc

─❧ Summary: (Mentions of self harm, abuse)

Constance....! Is still a running name. I may change it, I may not. I'm unsure about her appearance, I know I want her to have the split hair and to dress in similar colors though, but her eyecolor I am so conflicted on...

But...! Her story is still being fleshed out, and she has changed a lot. She is now strictly for Gilbert, whereas she was supposed to be a flexible oc for either Clavis or Gilbert. (Maybe she still could be?)

So far, her story is still like Emma's so far. her and Rio friends for years, Akatsuki taking her in, etc. In my mind, she doesn't know who her parents are and is somewhat in peace of that.

I've bounced around a lot with her though, to where the Rio and Akatsuki being in her BG makes little sense. i've wanted her to be someone who writes and sings, but does not preform and instead has a friend that preforms for her. Where they have private sessions of Constance singing and exampling some of the dancing to her friend, and later on watching her friend preform the songs and bringing her visions to life. (i like this a lot but it feels...odd.)

I want her carrying a notebook around the palace, filled with her drawings and songwriting. Far in the journal, there is drawings of Gilbert- not because she knows him, but because long before she saw him slinking around Rhodolite and drew him out of facination of how he looked (did not piece together he was a Scary Dude). (would add a lot of fuel to fire if anyone saw those drawings COUGHS)

In another bouncing, I have her as a secret wrtier/artist that writes songs that are never preformed. I thought it would be funny if she wrote the erotica that Jin apparently reads??? I can never fgure out if thats canon or not because i never see it Mentioend in the game.

In both possible backgrounds for her, she is still a quiet and reserved person who suffers from a lot of depression, and struggles with herself a lot. The two toned hair was for fun at first, but now I'm realizing it would probably be a good symbol for her inner issues. How she has a lot of 'darkness' inside of her, that she feels disgusted by and upset with, while there is a purity she wishes she had (but fails to come to terms with how that is unreasonable).

To be paired with Clavis, she was supposed to be much more shy, and his antics were supposed to draw her out of her shell more.

But now it's more solidifies that she will be primarily paired with Gilbert due to the purity/darkness thing. She is a little dramatic in her thoughts with that, and is now a bit more serious toned rather than her shyness being played for antics.

She believes Gilbert over his refusal to 'lie', and that draws her in a lot.

Discussion of self harming/SA, when text is blue I am finished.

Something I am struggling with is that with many Ocs, i often have them go through some sexual trauma just due to it being an outlet for myself (i have also had sexual trauma). This may be why you see some themes of this in some fanfics I write, where there is something the reader is struggling with sexually and the suitor is extremely patient with them- it's usually tied to stuff like this (unsure of how obvious that is since no one ever says anything! which feels like an act of kindness, if it is obvious).

For her, I am struggling with adding that into her background as something that is fairly recent with her. Rio doesn't know, she refuses to tell him, and his fondness of her and constantly...hm...i don't mean this poorly, but building her up to be so 'perfect' sometimes causes a lot of issues when she reflects on herself, and she uses those words against herself often.

I don't know if the self harm would be. Due to that SA event or not. I don't know if this is soemthing that has plagued her for years, or if it spiked as her emotions got out of control.

Gilbert would not know. I don't really care if JP spoilers suggest otherwise, as there are already hints that make it clear he doesn't know Everything (he just knows a Lot). A lot of their relationship would be them struggling with self harm and the SA. A lot of her trust gets put into him (even if she dislikes it), because he doesn't lie to her like others do, and it is a comfort. (blah blah gilbert does lie blah blah)

It's hard to explain their relationship. I assume i'll have more figured out as his route comes out. Right now, she's who I imagine when I write some stuff with him, but not all of it.

With Clavis, the relationship would have been more healthy, and so would she. I think she would still struggle with both things, as it could be used as a mutual understanding when they discuss needing to be loved fully and not half-heartedly.

That is a rough gist of what I have for her? I have been typing this for hours and I am running out of steam.

Annnd....That is that! At least for now. Another detail I will share for all of them is that they are all bi :) All my ocs are always bi.

Again, you guys are free to ask questions. I may update this over time as well. I don't really want criticisms for my ocs though since you guys don't actually deal with them past them popping up as the voice for some reader insert fics. they just sorta rot in my brain and I get comms of them at times.

#scums babs

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twistedchristianscience · 2 months

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forgot to post about him here BUT I finished my silly little Vashraptor fursuit just before Emerald City Comic Con (and Vancoufur)

except he's not actually "finished", just finished enough for me to wear him to those cons for a bit. he still needs a few more details, namely feetpaws, the stitches on his torso, a more raptor-like hand for his prosthetic, and claws. plus I'm not totally happy with his ears so I might redo them. I'll make legs and different prosthetics eventually, but that probably won't be for a while.

as per usual of raptors, he looks pretty silly at any angle other than side profiles, so its a little difficult to get good photos while im actually wearing him.

more ramblings + WIP shots under the cut because this was the most complicated project ive ever done and im insane

so far, he's taken about $700 worth of materials and 150 hours but I'll make another post with updated numbers when he's fully finished.

the headbase is made of EVA foam, with a hinge from WeaselsOnEasels (covered with that pink fabric because I accidentally put it on the inside, rip) and 40 teeth from DreamVisionCreations. the eyes and antorbital fenestrae have .5mm computer fan pvc mesh-- his vision and ventilation are fantastic, rivaling my suit with a 3d printed base, but fine details like writing and text are lost as per usual with vision meshes (that's not normally much of a problem for me with the furry conventions I go to annually and know the layout of, but it made navigating ECCC a nightmare since ive never been before and the venue is HUGE. I imagine ill have the same struggles if I go to sakuracon-- anyone wanna be my handler for that? lol). the unfurred section is coated with Plastidip and spraypainted dark brown. most of his mane is zippered on both sides so I can remove it and make interchangable versions (I plan to make spiked-up hair in yellow, half yellow/black, and fully black) while the tip of it is magnetic so it lies flat against the base. his tongue is also magnetic. I was originally going to make magnetic eyelids, but in all honesty, I might prefer to make them velcro as they tend to be easier to adjust + more secure than magnetic ones.

the part I hated making the most was his tail, not because it's bad, but because when I was almost done with it my dog got to it and chewed it apart.

you can see there's an awkward little bump along the top near where the light yellow and black fur connect-- when im wearing the tail that bump makes it look broken. but since he's so mangled anyway it can just be considered part of his design since I didn't add any scars to it

the tail feathers were a bit of a nightmare to make but the progress shots are cool

the part I loved making the most, and that im most proud of, is the bodysuit. I thought the scars were going to be a nightmare to sew, but they were actually the most fun and I love how they turned out!! he will be getting an interchangable mane down his back as well but I didn't have the time to finish it. I might also extend the shoulders a little for a better fit, particularly the left as theres a noticeable gap between the suit and the prosthetic as it is.

I showed this video of the pattern to a friend at When Furballs Strike a few weeks back and she told me I was insane. she is correct, and I'm fairly sure me actually finishing the bodysuit in a week only proves it further. but I did it anyway, and I had fun doing it.

Fur used: Yellow (Hair/Mane, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Buttercup Luxury Shag Light Yellow (Main Body/Face): MofuMofu Mi Yellow Long Fur White (Neck, Top Surgery Scars, Tail): BigZFabric White Short Shag Brown (Ears, Tail Feathers): HowlFabric Fossil Grey Luxury Teddy Black (Arm, Tail): HowlFabric Natural Black Luxury Teddy Scars: HowlFabric Salmon Minky Tongue: HowlFabric Banana Minky Inner Mouth: HowlFabric Vanilla Minky Inner Ears: BigZFabric White Minky

note about the mofumofu fur: it's pretty thin, if you trim too much you can see the backing through it. HOWEVER. this proved to be a positive for the bodysuit, as it's MUCH more breathable than thicker furs like howl's and bigz's. (for the one day I could make it to ECCC and two days of Vancoufur, I wore this suit for 10-12 hours straight with a sweatshirt underneath and never felt like I was overheating, the minky scars most likely helped with it but STILL??) it also doesn't get as matted. whether or not it's worth the $55/yd price depends on what you need it for, if it's within your price range and you're particularly sensitive to heat, I'd say go for it. I only needed a yard for this as I'm kindof a little guy (5'5", 120lbs) so it was worth it for me.

#twist talks #vashraptor #kinsona #vash the stampede #trigun #fursuit #fursuit making

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loserdiaz · 1 year

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wip wednesday

tagged by @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @lostinabuddiehaze @rogerzsteven @buddierights @spotsandsocks @dickley-buddie @eddiediazisascorpio @prettyboybuckley thanks for the tag, loves! 💗

this is from my fic where the oblivious buckley siblings think eddie and chim are dating when in reality they're just really good friends and roommates lmao

"Uh, I don't know. It's been a while." Eddie shrugs. "We went to high school together and then he moved because of family stuff. We kept in touch for a bit but it wasn't the same, y'know?" Buck nods but honestly no, he doesn't know. He never really had any real friends and he never looked back when he left Hershey. He doesn't even remember half of the people he went to high school with. "But we reconnected when I moved here a year ago."

"Oh." Buck frowns deepens. That sounds exactly like one of those rom-coms that Maddie made him watch. Buck's really gonna throw up now.

"What about you?" Eddie asks, staring at Buck's profile with eagerness and curiosity but the blonde is too busy frowning at the floor and fidgeting with the rag in his hands to notice. "Are you liking L.A so far?"

"It''s nice, I guess."

Eddie licks his lips nervously and turns completely, facing Buck and leaning against the now cleaned side of the truck.

"You know, there's this place not too far from here and they have the best burgers in the world." Eddie grins and tilts his head but Buck's still not looking at him and Eddie is starting to think he did something wrong. "W-would you like to go? With me, I mean."

"Wouldn't Chimney mind? I mean, wouldn't it be weird or whatever?"

Eddie blinks at him slowly, confused and lost.

"Why would Chimney mind? Why would it be weird?"

"I, uh, well… you know." Buck mutters. Is Eddie really going to make him say it? Is the man that oblivious that he can't see Buck is clearly uncomfortable and hurt and feeling like the stupidest guy on Earth?

"No…" Eddie says slowly. "I don't know."

im a little bit late and don't know who's done this already but im tagging @swiftiebuckleys @maygrantgf @fatedbuck @the-likesofus @loveyourownsmiilee @bekkachaos whoever else wants to do it!

#wip wednesday #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #my wips #my writing #911 fic #911 wip

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stagefoureddiediaz · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

Its WIP Wednesday and I actually have some writing in progress to share with everyone!!!! if you saw my tease tidbit Tuesday post yesterday, then you will know that a random idea I had for a fic has taken over my soul and I am now writing said fic!! So having teased you with the first 3, short paragraphs, I return to give you a bit more in the hope that you will let me know your thoughts and feed my need for validation and encouragement because at this point I have no idea if its any good or if I can even write in an engaging way for fiction - I have spent far too long writing meta and a academic pieces to know if creative writing is something I am capable of!

So have the next section of chapter one of my as yet untitled (and unedited) Buckley siblings time travel au;

To Bucks right a group of men, not currently dancing were engaged in an animated conversation and gesticulating wildly, they were all dressed up in the latest fashions and as such created a dark patch amongst the bright colours of the rest of the ballroom. At the centre of this group was the newly titled Viscount Teignmouth, cutting a fine figure in a purple suit so dark it was almost black, he had been slyly watching Buck for much of the evening when he wasn’t engaged in the dancing, Indeed, during supper, his eyes had never left Bucks person. Buck had noticed and had enjoyed being looked at, indeed he was contemplating making a move one this dance was over, to see if he truly had managed to attract the attention of the much sort after Viscount or if he was just wishful thinking.

Buck was roused from his musings on what he could soon be getting up too with Teignmouth by Daniel. His brother, at the age of 23 was 5 years Bucks senior, but where Buck was tall, broad and muscular with a mop of blonde curls atop his head and a set of piercing blue eyes, Daniel was several inches shorter and tending towards skinny thanks to a series of childhood illness with straight brown hair and brown eyes. In fact, Buck didn’t look much like the rest of his family at all and accordingly had never felt like he truly fit in with them.

‘Little brother, why are you over here lurking in a corner rather than dancing?’

‘Daniel, you know I am trying to keep a low profile tonight since Miss Clark turned down my offer. I am already the talk of the town, I don’t need to fuel the gossips further by dancing.’ Buck replied huffily.

It was true, he had been trying to keep a low profile since Abby had left him 4 months ago, she had come into some money when an aunt died, and had left to go on a tour of Europe, Buck had suggested going with her, but she had said she needed time to find herself and process things so Buck had said he’d wait for her but she had left Bath without so much as a word to Buck and he had al but lost hope. He had heard through friends that she was currently in Italy having made her way through France and Switzerland and that she was enjoying the company of a variety of people including several male suitors.

‘You need to get yourself back out there, you only fan the flames of their idle gossiping by not actually participating. Plus I cannot dance with my health as it is currently and as your older brother demand you go and dance several sets on my behalf’ Daniel coaxed.

‘You got bored of being stuck with mother and her constant singing the virtues of Maddie’s Marriage didn’t you?’ Buck said as he fixed his brother with a knowing stare.

Daniel just grinned back at him ‘Anyone would think Maddie had been made a princess the way she is still going on about it - the wedding was over a year ago. Still better that than her bemoaning my ill health I suppose’ he sighed.

so there we go - a bit more word building in late Georgian Bath! I'd love to know what you think!

Tagging @honestlydarkprincess @mellaithwen @madneyporchengagement @barbiebuckley-han @tulipfromtheinternet @tarlosbuddie @dollhousejee @spotsandsocks @barbiediaz

#wip wednesday #who even am I #Kym tries to write fic #Buckley siblings time travel AU #911 on fox #911 abc #maddie buckley #evan 'buck' buckley #buckley siblings #Kym writes things

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spicysix · 9 months

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hi all i saw was edancy summer challenge so tell me abt that 👀

slkdsadks edancy nation unite!!! ✊

at some point in time i've sent in the server about a song i thought was very edancy coded and i couldn't stop thinking about it ever since, so i've decided to actually do something about it

it's based on girls make me wanna die by the aces. features transfem!Eddie so i can keep the song as sapphic as it originally is. the song says they meet on the internet, but i'm gonna twist it just a bit and make it so that Eddie and Nancy already know about each other from their friend in common, Robin. at a random party at Robin's, they hit it off and Nancy talks a lot about how she's a journalist but has been trying her way with creative writing lately, and one of her biggest inspirations is this poet on instagram - surprise, the poet is Eddie under a different name (as the song also says). after that Eddie is kinda hooked on Nancy and they match on tinder at some point so Eddie knows she's got a chance but. well. that's as far as i went LKSDLSKA

i still don't know much about it aside from all this above and that it's obviously for the spicy six summer challenge and my prompt is "rooftops" and i wanna match it with the first lines of the chorus (about laying in sunrays on a beautiful sunday, and Nancy is wearing Eddie's beat-up jean jacket so damn well). and that Nancy is probably going to give Eddie a hard time trying to woo her LSDKLKS

i also played around a little with some of these fake social media apps and made Nancy and Eddie's tinder profiles and Eddie's poems insta page, so. here they are!

ask me about my WIPs!

#lui answers #lui writes #edancy #acey 💚

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ell-vellan · 4 months

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Ooh for the WIP game!! Bull introduces El to Zevran.... and Untitled Document 😈

So as it turns out, I didn't check what "untitled document" was specifically as it was an old doc I recently found again (old enough that El had a different name!). And it's part of the Bull introduces Zevran to El lead-in, just like...longer. 🤣 But some of the details may not line up right. It needs editing for sure.

So you'll get both! Sorry to disappoint it's not something more salacious!

"Hey, kadan. See that elf over there? The one with the tattoo?"

They were sitting in Herald's Rest, enjoying a lull between crises, for once, in their usual corner.

El had to lean out from her seat. She just caught the profile of a swarthy male elf, blond, with an amiable face, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he apparently charmed the bartender. His tattoo wasn’t Dalish, and neither were his clothes – leather, but not a craftsmanship she recognized. "I've never seen him before."

"He's not one of ours. He's just passing through. I met him on a job some five or six years ago. Name's Zevran."

The name rung a little bell in the back of her mind, but she couldn't place it. “That isn't a Dalish name, as far as I'm aware.”

"He's Antivan, not Dalish. Former assassin for the Antivan Crows. Well, former member, anyway. Pretty sure he's still an assassin."

Ellawayn reeled, starting to stand. "An assassin? Here?"

Bull chuckled. "Relax, kadan, he's not here for you. He’s a friend. He left the Crows over ten years ago – and the Crows don't exactly allow their members to leave. Last I heard, he had taken out a handful of their leaders, to boot. So the fact that he's still alive is pretty impressive." Bull took a nonchalant sip from his tankard and said casually, "Guess it's not too surprising that he was one of the hero of Ferelden’s best buddies during the Blight. Helped him take down the Archdemon in Denerim."

El stared at Bull. Mahariel was the most famous elf in an age – that is, until she got herself into this mess – and her personal hero as a girl.

“Pretty sure they’re married now, though,” Bull continued conversationally. “Or whatever the Dalish equivalent is. Definitely seemed like it when I met ‘em.”

Ellawyn lowered herself to the table and hissed under her breath. “He’s – that’s – that’s Zevran Arainai?”

She looked at him again. Other than the daggers strapped conspicuously to his waist and thigh, she wouldn't have initially considered him a threat. He was a handsome older elf, lively and engaging the patrons around him, making them laugh. Bits and pieces of his lyrical accent floated about the bar noise.

“So, funny thing,” Bull continued. “He’s here because I wrote to him.”

“Zev, I'd like to introduce you to Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Zevran stood with a bow. When he spoke, it was with a lilting Activan accent. "My dear lady – your eminence – it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He kissed the back of her hand with the most courtly of manners, as though he were a prince and not a former member of the Crows, and El froze, feeling an absurd blush rush to her cheeks. All of her diplomatic training fled in the face of this charming man – the bonded of the most famous elf in Thedas before her.

Zevran’s golden eyes flashed to Bull, questioning. "But, ah, I thought it was Herald? This is the Herald's Rest, yes?"

"It's both, I'm afraid," she answered with a self effacing smile. "But please. Call me Ellawyn. Neither title really suits me. And anyway…I've heard so much about you, I feel as though we're already acquainted.”

Zevran lifted a mischievous brow at Bull. “Has she, now? What silly tales have you filled the Inquisitor’s head with, my friend?”

Bull laughed heartily. “Not from me!” He cocked his thumb at El. “El’s been hearing about your Warden’s exploits since she was a kid.”

Zevran’s eyes widened on Ellawyn.

“I was perhaps fourteen during the Blight,” she explained. “News of Warden Mahariel’s heroism reached far and wide, even to my clan in the Free Marches. He was a hero to us all.”

Zevran clutched his chest and pretended to stumble backwards. “Oh, you do wound me. Alas, it is not your fault, my dear! But no, I suppose time marches on. Come, come, let us speak somewhere with perhaps fewer ears to overhear. I believe all three of us have many people who want us dead, yes?”

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thedetectivesystem · 10 months

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Please write more 17 year old Near x 27 year old Near when and if you are able to, do you have any head canons, yet? If so, i would intrested to hear? What type of personalities would they have? Who would get more shy or embarrassed ?🥹💕💕💕

hi hi ! :3c thank you so much for asking ! i have content to give… i also have so many wips but i find this pair to be very lovely… i do have headcanons ! 17 year old near is actually a bit different from 27 year old near and that is mainly due to mental age and being raised in a different generation.

so first, this is how they meet and to give some more context to this au !

17 Near is a transgender man while 27 Near is a cisgender man. It’s brought up as 17 Near asks if 27 Near is like him (he’s assuming that 27 Near is a trans male like him and is just really far into his transition) but 27 Near says, “No, I am a cisgender man. However, I find this particular difference between us interesting.”

This is an AU where 17 Near was born again in different circumstances, so two Nears exist in this universe without the other knowing.

They met online, and it makes 27 Near look like a big creep when he’s just genuinely confused to why someone who looks and acts a lot like his younger self exists.

There are noticeable differences as 17 Nears physique is different from 27 Nears, but he’s smart, and he decides to see if he can get answers if they have the same name, what happened, or if it’s just genuinely a person who acts and looks scarily like him in the past (As well as having the same first name.) By of course making an account in attempts to talk to the person.

17 Near has a bit of… Personal baggage of daddy issues.

17 Near was about to block 27 Near because blank profile and account, obvious creep, until 27 Near brings up a person question that he personally remembered in his childhood. He is then called a creep and asked how he knew that about him (17 Near.)

Things do escalate and they engage in conversation, 27 Near knew how to keep 17 Near in conversation well, and for hours, it’s himself after all.

Nears account is filled with pictures of his toys and stuffed animals, very very few photos have himself in it and it’s usually never a full face picture unless he’s showing how cute he looks for the day in his little outfits. (OOC, I know, though keep in mind it’s a modern setting and he was raised differently and had online spaces. Not in a chronic way though, he knows better than that.)

When 27 Near finally shows what he looks like (because there’s no way 17 Near would ever want to visit an online friend if he doesn’t know what they look like and no established trust is put) 17 Near is amazed and of course finds him to be very handsome. Most would say his taste in men is very odd.

17 Near doesn’t remember Wammy’s, Mello, Matt, etc. Until a bit later when 27 Near opens up to him in their online chat (27 Near wanted to test the waters to see if 17 Near remembered as well.) It’s a slow process but he begins to dream of those things, it’s also traumatic for 17 Near, as technically it happened to him too just in another life.

Once they do meet once they engage in conversation about the memories, they meet in a public place such as a cafe. (17 Near still being cautious for his safety, which is completely understandable regardless of who it is.)

17 Near dresses cute for this occasion, although cautious, he’s still attracted to 27 Near (he wonders if this is a real life equivalent to selfcest, it is.) I’m thinking of a casual ouji outfit, comfy and stylish.

personality wise, 27 year old near is an INTJ 5w6, 17 year old near is also an INTJ 5w6, although he is more of a feeler and clingy towards his loved ones in situations that 27 year old near would have to bottle down in order to solve a case.

here is a fact, 17 near doesn’t have a job, as not a lot of jobs are really autism friendly and the one he would work (librarian) he needs a higher education.

“who would be more shy or embarrassed?”

17 near would be more shy and embarrassed. 27 near can hide it well until he gets in situations he doesn’t expect himself to be in.

Headcanons

17 Near also has ADHD inattentive type.

17 Near has abilities that 27 Near does not such as cooking and baking. 17 Near learned these skills to be able to survive on his own and he genuinely enjoys it.

27 Near notices the differences in 17 Nears body and verbals behaviors when 17 Near grows more and more comfortable with him. Such as his stims (unmasking) and odd wording. (17 Near refers to himself with internet terms such as a “boywife” or “femboy”, 27 Near had to look up what these meant though given the context he has a good guess, he just wants to make sure.)

Socks, both of them have so many pairs of the same plain socks. Aside from 17 Nears thigh highs and frilly socks that he will wear when more open with 27 Near.

Referring to one another as “Near” is not confusing to them, and luckily the SPK just calls 27 Near “L”.

17 Near sometimes doesn’t let Rester make 27 Near lunch (he forgets to eat a lot due to autism and being busy with cases or stimming/building with his toys.) Just so he can make 27 Near cute bento meals for lunch.

The age gap is weird to the SPK, but it’s technically himself despite a few differences so they don’t question it.

17 Near actually makes the first move by giving 27 Near a kiss on the cheek because “a prince must give his gratitude to his knight.” When 27 Near catches him when he slips on one of his toys.

Stuffed animals fill the bedroom 27 Near let’s 17 Near have for when he comes over to stay the night. 17 Near calls it his “nest.”

Physical affection is a big love language of 17 Near, as 27 Near isn’t used to physical affection so he will gives gifts and likes quality time.

Sexuality wise they’re both gay.

27 Near really likes the thigh highs 17 Near wears.

if you have anymore questions feel free to ask !

#death note #nate river #near #Nearcest #cw age gap #Near x Near #27 Near is a bit of a perverted…

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the-hs-etaverse · 9 months

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State of the whatever #I'm sorry women

Hi guys sorry about the (mostly) radio silence for the past couple months. I know I know I shouldn't be apologizing, I don't owe you guys anything (and don't youse be getting it into your heads that I do), but like, I still feel bad, and I feel bad about not getting Housesnared posting-ready in time. Admittedly some of my procrastination on that front was because MSPFA was down for maintenance for a couple months. But it was also procrastination-procrastination. I have some sort of deadline-avoidance syndrome or something.

Anyway. What was I going to say? Right. Progress on Housesnared. Not much of it since Ash Wednesday and my previous State of the Etaverse update. I finished another main character intro and fleshed out some of the others a bit more. Other than that? Nothin'.

Part of this was because other projects (Homestuck-based or non) suddenly looked a heck of a lot more appealing to me now that I had this stupid self-imposed deadline hanging over me. I finished another chapter of Meteor Science Theater 413000 over Lent, along with two (out of three) sections of this Kittyquest supplementary fic thing. (I think I've linked to both of these in this blog since their posting. If you're interested, go find 'em. They're both on my AO3 (u/n @meowloudly15).)

And also non-Homestuck nonsense, but check my main if you'd like to see all that.

I also did some other Homestuck stuff that I haven't completed/posted yet. More on that as it's completed. :3

Okay SO. uh. I have an idea but I would like your feedback on it. I could post more of my Housesnared stuff, like work-in-progress panels and things and scripts and stuff and character bios. While the idea intrigues me, I am also kind of worried about spoilering you guys if you don't want to be spoilered, if you just wanna see the finished product. That said, here are some pros:

I Wanna Talk About This Story With People !!!!!

Good way to get feedback or suggestions. I always envisioned Housesnared as being at least partly fan-driven. I could post a character profile and go "give me FAMILY MEMBER IDEAS" and maybe get a single comment?

A way for me to feel like I'm being at least a little productive, to show myself "hey look how far you've come up this enormous mountain you've concocted for yourself like seriously WHY did you decide to start writing a 48-player fansession without any support from friends or anything" it's because I'm insane, Jennifer. That's why.

I think I had another reason I just don't remember what it is

OH RIGHT a way to garner more interest in my story and characters. Kind of like Sovereignstuck has been doing

help me please

ANYWAY. Tell me what you think lads

#homestuck #housesnared #etaverse #long post #poll

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: vomiting, light angst due to body image issues (pregnant!reader)

A/N: i have been working on a WIP all day! it’s going to be my longest one-shot by far. if you would like a hint, click here (another hint: it’s not a retelling of the episode)

Masterlist

Chapter 28

Gradually over the summer, your bump started to peek out just a little bit. The bottom of your belly would poke out of your tank tops slightly.

Spencer loved it because it gave him better skin-to-skin contact. He would constantly be rubbing and kissing your tummy while whispering softly to the baby.

He would often visit you in your office for lunch so he could bring whatever you were currently craving. You learned this the hard way once when you packed a chicken caesar wrap for lunch one morning and by the time it got to noon, it made you nauseous just looking at it. Spencer brought you watermelon that day because it was the only thing that sounded good.

You were just finishing up an email when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” you announced.

“Hi, love. How are we doing today?” Spencer inquired.

“Better now that you’re here,” you looked up from your computer to give him a kiss.

“I brought you your fruit salad with extra watermelon and your prenatal vitamins. Also, I don’t know how your stomach is feeling but I would like you to try to have some protein because fruit does not have much sustenance for you and little one. I brought tofu, peanut butter crackers, or a protein bar, whatever you think you can get down,” Spencer unloaded his bag.

“I finished the whole 64 ounce water bottle before noon. Aren’t you proud of me, babe?” you beamed, proudly displaying your empty bottle.

“So proud, I’ll go refill it right now so you can take your vitamins,” Spencer lifted your blouse up and placed a gentle kiss right on your belly button, “Daddy will be right back, little one.”

You awoke to the sickly twisting feeling in your stomach and you carefully rose from the bed in an attempt to not upset your stomach any more.

Spencer was up and out of the bed as soon as he heard the first retch. He grabbed a hair elastic and tied your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Spence, I can’t be sick today,” you cried.

“Jo will understand, love. I’ll tell her you are taking care of little one.”

“I don’t want to miss her first day of first grade,” you sobbed into his chest.

“I will facetime you and take so many videos and pictures, you won’t miss a thing,” he promised you.

“I’m going to call you out of work. Then, I’m going to get you some tea, plain crackers, and iced water,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Will you be okay in here by yourself for a little?” he asked quietly.

You sniffled and nodded.

“Okay, shout if you need me. I’m going to go get that stuff for you and wake Jo up.”

“I want to at least say bye to her. I want to see her in her first day outfit,” you insisted.

“Of course, we’ll be back up in a little,” he assured you.

About 15 minutes later, Spencer returned with a tray of just about every drink and food you had been craving for the past week.

“I love you,” you smiled.

“I love you more,” he replied, setting the tray down on your nightstand.

“Mommy, brother or sister is being bad?” Jo asked.

“No, baby,” you motioned for her to climb up on the bed with you, “They are just growing and it is making Mommy a little sick but it’s okay. I’m sorry I can’t drop you off with Daddy today. But luckily, I heard your new teacher is super nice and you have Henry in your class again this year.”

“Bye, Mommy. I’ll miss you,” she hugged you, “Bye, brother or sister,” she waved to your belly.

“Bye, Baby J. I am expecting a full report on everything that happened as soon as you get home,” you smiled.

“I’ll be back in 30,” Spencer helped Jo off the bed, looking at you worriedly.

“Spence, I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“Call me if anything happens like even if you just think you’re about to throw up, call me,” he insisted.

You nodded, “Have fun!”

“There’s my big first grader!” you smiled with open arms.

You were waiting on the couch for Jo and Spencer to come home from pick up time.

“Mommy!” she ran into your arms, “Ms. Moore is so nice. She let us color whatever we wanted for an hour during craft time today and she had a whole bin of dinosaur books in the library. And, me and Henry played on the big kid swings at recess today and I jumped off into the air!” she exclaimed.

“Oh my gosh! What a fun day you had!” you smiled.

“And you didn’t even hear the best news yet, Daddy signed up to be a classroom helper,” she beamed.

“Did he now?” you grinned, turning your attention to Spencer.

“Ms. Moore had the sign-up sheet out at pick-up time. How can I resist spending more time with Jo? I’m going to get lonely when both my girls are at work and school,” he plopped down on the couch and squeezed you both.

You couldn’t find a single cute blouse that still fit you that morning. You had to wear an ugly wrinkly gray one from the back of your closet that you bought a while back and hated but never got around to returning. You brushed through your hair quickly and forwent any makeup because you already felt like utter crap.

You would have called out sick but you had an important department meeting today that you had to sit through. Luckily, that meant little to no talking but you just had to pray that your stomach would settle.

At the end of the long day, you went home and changed into sweats. In an attempt to cheer yourself up, you drove to Jo’s school to see Spencer in action. It was his first day as class assistant.

You approached the classroom to see Spencer surrounded by a group of moms. They were all over him, practically swarming him like bees to honey. These were the exact moms that were horrible to you last year. They were all dressed in high heels and skinny jeans, stuff you couldn’t wear anymore.

You turned around and headed back out to the car.

Spencer immediately noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway when they got home.

“Love?” Spencer called out, setting his keys on the table when they entered the front door.

No response.

Spencer tried your cell but it rang out.

He immediately had Garcia on the phone next, “Penelope, I need you to track Y/N. She’s not home yet and not answering her cell and I’m worried.”

“Oh, McDonald’s? Okay, yeah thanks. That’s been one of her cravings recently,” Spencer hung up the phone.

“Why did Mommy leave school and now she’s not here?” Jo questioned.

“Mommy wasn’t at school today, Princess. I think you are confused,” Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Daddy, I saw her,” Jo stated.

“Okay, I believe you,” he picked the little girl up and exited the house once again.

You didn’t want to be the crazy pregnant lady in a McDonald’s crying with a chocolate milkshake and a large fry but that is who you had become.

You heard the bell chime but you didn’t look up, dipping your next fry into your milkshake.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Spencer was standing over you, looking very concerned and carrying Jo on his hip.

He set her down and whispered, “How about you go play in the play place for a little, Princess. Daddy will order you a happy meal.”

Jo looked at you with the same amount of concern in her eyes before deciding it was best to just follow what Spencer said. She ran off and Spencer took the seat across from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he spoke softly.

“Not particularly,” you took a long sip of your milkshake.

“Jo said she saw you at the school today,” Spencer stated.

It didn’t take a profiler to see the way your face sank even more and you stopped sipping your shake.

“What upset you so much, love? I need to know if I’m going to fix it,” he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Nothing fits,” you stated.

“We’ll buy you more maternity clothes,” he replied quickly.

“I look ugly,” you protested.

“Completely and unequivocally false,” he answered sincerely.

“Those moms are going to steal you away from me,” another tear slid down your face.

Spencer’s face softened, he moved from the seat across from you to right next to you.

“You are probably feeling some residual feelings of abandonment because you had to do this alone last time,” Spencer stated softly.

You buried your face into his shoulder as confirmation.

“Love, I am never leaving you or Jo or little one ever again. There’s nowhere else I want to be. This is what makes me happy,” Spencer looked around, “I’d gladly stay in this crusty McDonald’s forever if you and Jo are here.”

Your giggle was muffled by his cardigan.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Spencer smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

A/N: i named Jo’s teacher ‘Ms. Moore’ as a little shoutout to @homoose !!! moore...moose, close enough. she was one of the writers who inspired me to start writing my own fics

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#spencer reid fluff #dad!spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fanfic

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miss-choco-chips · 2 years

Text

Bribery was, after all, the best way to achieve her goal

“Mmmh…” Wow, was he actually considering it, that easy? From his fast reply last time, she would have thought the sale would be harder than just blatant bribery, but hey, if it got the job done- “No, actually.”

This motherfucker.

Suddenly, there was another voice in her ear. It sounded kinda far away and muted, obviously not meant to be heard, but clear enough in her overpriced phone’s speaker.

“Oh, you’re on the phone. Sorry dude, just came to tell you I’m headed out to meet Miya at the park. You can meet us there when you’re done, if you want?”

Then, the little shit, Langa, full volume, not even caring a little bit that she was still on the phone with him: “No! Wait, I’m done here, it was just a salesperson, it doesn’t matter. Reki, wait for me!”

And then he hung up. On her. Again.

And he called her a salesperson?

Oh. Oh, it was personal now.

-.-.-.-.-

Or, an unstoppable force (a lady wanting to sponsor Langa to compete as a snowboarder for her company in Canada) meets an immovable object (Langa's pining ass 100% unwilling to leave the love of his life's side).

(I had this sitting on my wips for like six moths, until @marudny-robot said they were curious about this idea and kickstarted the muse)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Charlotte Reigny, Lottie for the friends, is so fucking ready for this. She’s been preparing herself for this call, and done her homework on the subject. Her company had, after all, put the folder on her desk two weeks prior, and it was a high priority case; mistakes were not an option. It could mean a juicy raise, to get this done right, or a disapproving eyebrow from her boss, should she fail.

More than that, she pried herself in being the best at recruiting hopeful young athletes. She could drop weird, forgotten facts about almost any sport on demand, was known to make pretty solid guesses on who was going to win a specific Olympic game at the drop of a hat, had the best memory for names and abilities on the market, and was very persuasive.

She had this one on the bag.

Humming to herself, grateful for the years spent studying japanese, she checked the clock again to make sure time zones wouldn't get in the way, and dialed. As she waited for someone to pick up, her fingers trailed over the picture at the top of the file she made on the kid. Young, trained since age two on the sport, often referred to as a genius, but had kept a low profile long enough to ensure she wouldn’t have to compete against other agents? This was the golden egg goose.

“Hello?”

The voice broke her from her money-filled daydreams. Making sure to put on her brightest smile (people could tell, sometimes, what expression you had on just by hearing your voice, and she wanted to give the best impression), she focused her laser-like attention on this call.

“Hi! Am I speaking with Hasegawa Langa?”

“Oh, uhm, no, sorry.”

That… couldn’t be right. She looked down at her file, just in case she made a mistake (unlikely, but could happen once per century; maybe this was it?) but no, she had marked the correct numbers.

“I have this as his contact information, though? Hasegawa’s cellphone?” she tried again, because her information was spot on, but maybe her japanese was a bit rusty and whoever it was didn’t understand?

“Oh! Sorry, no, I’m Langa’s housemate. We are very close, and we kinda co-own each other’s phones, so maybe that’s why it got confusing. Erm, who is this? The area code is…”

And… Okay, Lottie didn’t have much patience, she saved it all for the hopeful young athletes she had to convince to come work under her company’s name. She hated to deal with families and the like, always so happy to talk about their precious kid’s achievements for hours, or nosy friends who wanted every little detail that, frankly, didn’t concern them. So in any other case, she would just ask for Hasegawa’s true number and hang up, but…

She wasn’t the best for no reason. A lot of her success was from hard work and painstakingly sculpted abilities, but there was no denying how helpful good instincts were. And hers were screaming for her to be nice to this kid. If a 19 year old was happy enough to share phones with his friend so much that even she could get her information wrong on which one was his, then they were probably insanely close, and alienating this person could prove to be very counterproductive.

“Oh, where are my manners? My apologies, I’m Charlotte Reigny. I work for H-Y, a sportswear company here in Canada, with many franchises all over the world��, she explained, voice carefully friendly, hoping to get the niceties done with soon.

Then, the kid’s voice got unexpectedly higher. She started, almost jumping out of her couch.

“That sounds cool! It must be an interesting job!”

He sounded… honest? Like he really thought it was something to get excited about. Bright and hyped, kinda like a puppy.

She felt her smile softening at the edges, and quickly corrected herself. She would not get soft by one small piece of praise. She was a professional thirty year old woman, invested enough in this case to even work from home (the appropriate time to call to the other side of the world was, sadly, out of her payed-for hours, hence why she was doing this from the comfort of her living room, champagne bottle at the ready to celebrate another success), and she would not get distracted by plebeian things such as unexpected fondness.

“It can be, at times. I get to know many interesting athletes, as our company likes to hire and sponsor them, to make young stars shine their brightest”, ugh, that was so corny, please bite the hook…

“And you wanted to… talk to Langa. Do you guys want to… uhm, sponsor him?”

Finally seeing the conversation go where she needed it, her smile broadened.

“Yes! We’ve seen footage of his last competitions, before he moved to Japan, and we were amazed! You have a very talented friend, Mr…?”

“Ah, sorry, Kyan Reki… And yeah, Langa is the best, isn’t he?”

The voice was both incredibly tender and unbelievably excited at the same time, which. Huh. Usually, people tended to get a little bitter and jealous, when she spoke about their friends being so good. Honest happiness about their abilities being recognized wasn’t the norm.

What do you know, she’d stumbled upon a good person.

Hastily, she wrote down the name. It would do her good to remember it, just in case.

“I don’t know about the best, but my company wants to make him so. If I could speak to him…?”

“Shit, sorry! I totally babbled at you, and you’re probably busy with work!” Well, she wasn’t, but if he didn’t know about time differences or wasn’t connecting the dots, it wasn’t her job to explain it to him, especially if it got him hurrying to pass the phone to her objective. “Yeah, give me a sec, he’s in the room. Langa! Hey, Langa! Phone for you!”

Muffled voice, as if Mr Kyan had covered the receiver, and then came the voice she had been waiting to hear all along.

“Uh, hi…? This is Hasegawa Langa...”

Knowing from her extensive search that the kid was Canada born and raised, she gratefully switched from japanese to english. She’d have to brush it, probably, since she was going to be working with him in the future and bilingual people would often switch back and forth when they couldn’t remember a specific word or turn of phrase, but this would do for now.

“Hello! My name is Charlotte Reigny, from H-Y’s sportswear. And let me tell you, Langa, we are very impressed over here about your past performances. Did you keep up with your training at all, these last few years?”

“Eh… Not exactly on snow, but I do train, and I have a kinda similar hobby…”

“Perfect!” That was better than expected; she was fully ready to dump him into a Personal Trainer’s hands to have him back in full shape, and was dreading the months it’d take. But if his words were true, it wouldn’t be that long. A fucking treasure, indeed. “So, Langa…”

“Ah!” came the unexpected gasp from the other side, like a little ‘eureka’. “I know H-Y! It’s a Canadian line, right? You’re from one of those companies that try to sponsor me, aren’t you?”

The mention of ‘companies’, plural (meaning competition), made her stop dead in her tracks, hand frozen where it was raised in a pre-emptive toast with her celebratory champagne. That was HER golden egg goose!

But it was nothing compared to what came next.

“I’m not interested. Thank you, though”, he paused, and then switched to japanese, conversation seemingly forgotten already, and asked: “Reki, is dinner ready-?”

She could hear a muted voice on the other side of the line, just before the dial tone.

What.

-.-.-.-.-.

“Hey, Lottie, good morning!”

“What’s up with the long face?”

She brushed past her coworkers, barely acknowledging their greetings with a quick nod, as she strode her way through the morning crowd towards the elevator, her boss’s office her final destination.

For the first time in her career, she’d need to ask for an extension in her deadline on this case. What would, to other people, be a normal occurrence, to her it was tantamount to getting a last notice before being fired. But she wasn’t giving up yet, not by any means. The easy dismissal, the clear indifference in the boy’s answer had been colder than Mount Logan on the harshest winter nights; but she did work for a winter sportswear company, after all.

This golden egg was perhaps a bit harder to crack than she had been expecting, but hey, better quality often meant that.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The next time she called, two days of preparation later, she was actually expecting Langa’s friend (Reki, she reminded herself after a quick look at her notes) to answer. It would be a good opportunity to hype the kid up, make him pester his friend about what a great chance this was, what a fool he’d be for rejecting the offer twice. Maybe it was a bit mean, to be half expecting someone else to do the heavy lifting for her, but. Well.

In her ex’s words, she was a right bitch. And he wasn’t wrong; she could be a bitch, and she tended to be right most of the time. So.

“Hi! Is this Reki?” she chirped happily as soon as the call connected, recently- brushed-up Japanese slipping almost effortlessly out of her tongue.

“No, I’m Langa. Who’s this, again?”

Oh. Okay then. She just didn't have any luck when trying to contact either of these boys, did she? Couldn’t they own a single phone each, like any normal middle class young adults?

“Langa! How are you doing? It’s Charlotte, I called the other day.”

“...”

“...from H-Y?”

“Oh, the sponsor lady. Why do you want to talk with Reki?”

The last word was the most emotion packed one she’d heard from the boy, in all their admittedly short exchanges. And it was his buddy’s name.

She carefully underlined the boy’s mention in her file, the way she would with a very close relative or a significant other. This kid was obviously above peon category, maybe a knight? A rock? Chess wasn’t really her thing, but that seemed about right.

“I just thought this was his phone, since last time I called he answered first. But actually, I wanted to speak with you again, if you have the time”, she said, like a lying liar who lies. Somehow, admitting to wanting to use Reki as a means to her ends seemed like a bad idea, and she did want to speak with her prey/ her company’s prospective future hire again.

“Ah. I’m still not interested.”

“May I ask why? I didn’t even tell you about the benefits we’re offering! How does vast sums of money sound to you? Interested yet?” she tried to joke, pencil clenched so tight in her hand it was probably about to snap in half.

This motherfucker.

Suddenly, there was another voice in her ear. It sounded kinda far away and muted, obviously not meant to be heard, but clear enough in her overpriced phone’s speaker.

“Oh, you’re on the phone. Sorry dude, just came to tell you I’m headed out to meet Miya at the park. You can meet us there when you’re done, if you want?”

And then he hung up. On her. Again.

And he called her a salesperson?

Oh. Oh, it was personal now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Click. “Hi! This is Charlotte!”

“...Who?”

“We… spoke the other day. I’m from H-Y.”

“...”

“...About the sponsorship in Canada?”

“Ohh, it's you… No, thank you.” Click.

…. Okay then.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Click. “Hey, good afternoon, Mr Langa! It’s me, Charlotte from H-Y again! Is this a good time?”

“No. Good-bye.” Click.

…Fucking- Fuck.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Click. “Hello?”

“Hi! You are a tough nut to crack kid! Worry not though, my boss approved my petition to raise our offer to you, and trust me, you can’t reject this! Imagine adding a few zeroes to the number I told you about last time, and-”

“Oh, it's you. Bye.” Click.

That little…

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Click. “Hello! PLEASE don’t hang up.”

“... Hi? Reki Kyan speaking..”

“...oh. Good afternoon, Mr Kyan. I don’t think you’d remember me, but I’m from the H-Y company…”

“Just Reki is fine, Mrs. I remember you, don’t worry. What can I do for you? Do you want to speak with Langa?”

No. No, she didn’t want to.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, have a nice day! Langa, phone for you!”

The sound of phone changing hands, Reki’s whisper as he told his roommate who was on the line, then-

“Still not interested. Bye.” Click.

THE FUCKING-

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The number you’ve tried to reach is unavailable.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The number you’ve tried to reach is unavailable.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The number you’ve tried to reach is unavailable.

Has… Has Langa blocked her?

No… surely no.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The number you’ve tried to reach is unavailable.

THAT LITTLE SON OF A FUCK. DEVIL-DAMNED BRAT!

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Lottie liked to think there were some lines not even she would cross, to get what she wanted. They weren’t, like, many of those, or very well defined, but they existed.

Thankfully, contacting family members of prospective new hires wasn’t a no-no on her books. Admittedly, it was a bit of a bitch move, but, as said before, she was a right one, and Langa had pissed her off.

“I just don’t understand…” Nanako trailed off, the sounds of something cooking in the background reminding Charlotte of her cooling dinner. She hastily took a bite of her omelette, hating the unprofessionalism of eating while on call, but needing to keep up the energy for this particular case.

“Hmm?” she asked, thankfully not sounding like her cheeks were stuffed with egg and cheese.

“Why call me? Langa is legally an adult. If, like you said, he refused, then I don’t know what else I can do for you. He makes his own choices.”

Well. Some kids tended to be weak to the Disappointed Mom stare, a fact she was heavily banking on. If only she could get Mrs Hasegawa on her side and on board with her kid making a killing as a professional snowboarder, then all would be good. She’d guilt her kid into fucking accepting Charlotte’s calls again, at the very least.

(She had the sneaking suspicion that he had blocked her from his -Reki’s?- phone, but no concrete proof.

That little brat.)

“I’m just afraid he’s not giving this opportunity proper consideration, and I’d hate for such an amazing talent to be lost so soon when he could still shine on the slopes for a long time, if he considered it.”

On her side of the line, Nanako hummed. Lottie briefly considered mentioning her late husband’s brief career as a snowboarder to hopefully elicit some memories that would help her case but… yeah, that WAS one of her lines. She wasn’t above using a mother’s expectations against her child, but reminding a widow of her lost love… nope. She’d actually feel bad for that one.

Frankly, she was appalled about that brief consideration she gave to the idea... Was exposure to Langa turning her into an even worse person? Did she need therapy? She probably needs therapy.

Or alternatively she’ll try to contact the bastard child again. If luck’s on her side, she’ll end up speaking with his happy go lucky friend, Reki. Last time, she almost felt like a decent person, and that was after like five minutes of conversation. Double that time and she’d probably cleanse her soul of any mortal sin.

“I can mention it in our weekly meetup, but you’ll have better luck if you get Reki to talk about it to him. Those boys are joined by the hip, it’s not like Langa can ran away from that conversation.”

“I would, but” she couldn’t exactly tell the woman that her son had blocked her on his (Reki’s?) phone, “I just have, uhm, Reki’s phone, that apparently Langa uses? It’s very confusing, I don’t know how to safely contact one or the other.”

Nanako laughed a little. “Oh, yeah, the phone thing can be a bit annoying at times. Here, let me give you both numbers, so you can check the one you already have and differentiate it from the other.”

Lottie would have swooned. Nanako didn’t deserve such an evil son.

“Thank you, I’d really appreciate it!”

After listing the numbers, the older woman stopped for a bit, brow furrowing.

“It’s a little weird, now that I think about it. I know Langa struggles with work and school. One would think he’d appreciate the opportunity to earn a bit more doing something that comes so naturally to him… Is the commune too far? You said H-Y, right? I didn’t know you guys had a branch office in Japan. The mountains are pretty far from here, maybe he dreads the travels back and forth?”

“Ah, we do have one, up north, but the boss actually wants Langa here, at the main office, in Canada. All moving costs would be covered, of course, so I don’t know why/”

“Canada, you said?” asked Nanako abruptly, sudden understanding in her voice. “Oh dear, no wonder. Yes, I’m sorry Miss Charlotte, but I don’t think you’ll get this one.”

“Is there… a problem with Canada? As far as I know, you two used to live here, right? Happy memories and all?”

“Yes, but you see, Langa found his happiness in Okinawa, and I don’t think he’s ever letting go of it. You can offer him all the money in the world, and I doubt it’d matter. What’s money to someone who thinks they already have it all?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“So I just make the fries now?”

“Yeah, let the chicken broth simmer with the butter thingie while you do that.”

“Oh, I see… when do I add the cheese, though?”

“Not for a while. Just focus on those fries, and leave your phone where it is on the counter, so I can keep an eye on the broth for you.”

Spending her Friday night giving a college student a cooking class wasn’t on her plans, to be honest. But somehow, after calling Reki and finding him utterly distressed, she couldn’t help but ask what was wrong. Apparently, today was a special date for him and Langa (Olley Anniversary? What the hell was that?), and Reki had been determined to cook the bastard child’s favorite food. But he knew jack shit about Canadian dishes, Mrs Hasegawa was at work and the internet guides he found were either in English or so badly translated that they might as well be for him. Lottie had called during Reki’s second attempt at replicating a youtube video, and while she tried to subtly ask about Langa’s weaknesses (happiness, Nanako had said in truth, but she called it as she saw it), the background sound of distraught teenager failing despite his better efforts finally got to her and she put the interrogation on hold to offer her assistance.

“Thank you so much, Miss. I would have never managed to cook this, let alone finish it in time for Langa to get back home.”

“What is he even doing outside at- “ some quick mental math; if it was friday, 11 pm at Canada, then for them… “- half past one in the afternoon?”

“Picking up a gift for me, I’m sure. All the more reason to make this as perfect as possible; he’s not a very good gift-giver, but he tries really hard, and I wanted to surprise him… You know, make him as happy as he makes me.”

The catch word, ‘happy’, reminded her that, oh yeah, she was supposed to be gathering information. Still, it was late, she was off the clock, and the ungrateful brat was not on the phone or near it for her to manipulate, so she could put off the interrogation for a bit longer.

“How do you know he’s doing that?”

“He said he was meeting with some friends, but I just spoke with Miya, and he was at home. I know for a fact Joe and Cherry are on a trip together, and Shadow should still be at work. Langa doesn’t have other friends. At least none that he would choose to hang out on a Saturday unprompted. And I caught him checking some skate stores online the other day, so he probably ordered something for me and went to pick it up.”

So, Brat was a bit of a loner, good to know. And apparently, subtle as a brick.

“Couldn’t he be buying stuff for himself?”

“In a skate shop? Not at all. Everything he owns, skate related, I custom made for him, and he has said on multiple, separate occasions that he’d rather chew off his own arm than use a store-bought board instead of mine.”

That was… surprisingly wholesome, for a hellspawn. Still, she was officially on her Langa breaktime, so she focused on the other bit of the spiel that caught her attention.

“Custom made boards? You do that?”

“Oh, yeah! I sell them around here; wouldn’t say I’m famous, but I make good money. I also made a snowboard once, for one of Langa’s old buddies. He called Langa some months ago, desperate for the number of the man who sold him his old board. Something about sportsmen superstition, dude only used the ones that older champions would consider useful. But Langa had long lost that contact, so he panicked and gave him my number. It was… an experience, making a new kind of board, but he apparently won the competition where he used it, so it’s all good. And he paid me BIG time, so I’m not complaining. Shipping it there was a bitch, though.”

“That sounds cool. Who was it? If he won a competition, I would probably know him.”

Hmm… Actually… Someone winning a competition with a custom made board? From Japan? Where had she heard a story like that before…?

“I can’t remember his name, but I posted a clip of his after-win interview where he spoke about my board on my insta page. I could text you that, if you want? Ah-! Fuck, the broth!”

“Oh, yeah, time to turn that off. How are those potatoes coming along?”

Reki, who had been just off screen, appeared again, holding a bowl with at least three big potatoes chopped in multiple uneven slices. Even if she had already seen him, back when he first begged her to face time so she could see if he was messing up and correct him, it still caught her a bit off guard. The boy was, just as she had predicted, sunshine incarnate; bright red hair, shiny golden eyes, slightly tanned skin. He dressed as a punk and smiled like the sweetest cinnamon bun. If she ever had kids, she’d like them to be just like Reki. Langa absolutely did not deserve such an angel for a best friend.

(Was she taking her dislike for the kid to the extreme? Maybe. Did he deserve it? Absolutely. Only her mother got to hang up on her, and only when she was being a bitch)

“Are these okay?”

From what she could see, some were a little too thick to properly cook, and some so thin they’d burn fast, but the majority looked okay enough. And the gesture was sweet enough that minor details like those would go unmentioned, at the very least.

Also, Langa didn’t deserve perfect poutine.

“Yes, they look good. Careful when you fry them. When is the b- Langa coming back home?”

“Ten minutes, probably. I told him lunch was gonna be ready by two pm, and he never misses it. He’s always hungry, I don’t know how his mom fed him, I’m struggling and I don’t work full time as a nurse.”

Was this bashing Langa time? She was so down.

“... but then again, he’s such a help with chores, it’s not like he doesn’t pull his weight. He’s also a really good listener, and lets me choose the movie every time, because he knows I get scared easily. Oh, and the other day, there was this spider, and he was so brave-”

Aw. Damn, she’d gotten excited.

Still, it was late, she was enjoying the last of her wine and Reki’s voice was very nice when he spoke about Langa, all soft and tender. Damn, he was so whipped.

…wait.

“Hey, Reki?” she cut off what would have, undoubtedly, been a very long ‘Love Langa’ speech “A bit of a weird question, but is Langa like… seeing anyone?”

The boy turned to where he’d left his phone, propped against some kitchen appliance facing him while he fried the potatoes. He blinked at her, confused.

“I think your Japanese got a little jumbled there. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Fuck. It was too late to think of the proper term. Whatever.

“Like, does he have a… favorite person? That he hangs up with, before anyone else? Someone he’s… sweet on” -fuck, she could feel herself mixing up the words. She did her best to remember what Nanako had told her, because really, what she said and what Reki had made her think of could very well be the same thing- “That makes him the happiest?”

“Oh… probably me, I guess”, he answered, eyes going back to the cooking food, ears turning adorably pink at the tips. “I mean, if you’re talking about joy… When he’s sleepy or relaxed, like when I’m combing his hair or when he’s lying on my lap… he tends to say I brought that back into his life…”

Ho. Ly. Fuck.

No. God, no, please don’t let it be Reki. She had gotten attached to the brat already, and she never got attached to anyone, let alone in under 30 minutes of conversation. LAnga absolutely did not deserve this one.

“...I’m so glad I could be a friend for him when he needed it the most.”

Wait. Pump the brakes.

“Friend? Not, like…” the word, what the fuck wasthe word. “Dating?”

Reki’s face, slightly pink from the heat of the stove, turned bright red in two seconds flat. What an ability.

“W- What?” he whipped his face to look at the phone, and then immediately turned back to the food as soon as he made eye contact. “No! We- We are just friends.”

Friends who lived together, were so deeply into each other’s pockets that they co-owned their phones, shared hobbies and had special, unique dates they celebrated together. Reki was fucking cooking him a foreign dish just to make him happy, for god’s sake, how much sappier could you get?

She had stumbled upon two idiots dancing around each other, hadn’t she. And, thinking back on Nanako’s words and what Reki had just told her, it suddenly became clear that Langa was rejecting what could be a chance of a lifetime to get a marvelously paid sponsorship, because he was hopelessly in love with his best friend and refusing to move away from him.

She didn’t even need to ask Langa to know, she was sure the brat was in love with Reki. How could he not? The kid was adorable, clearly smart and very considerate. She couldn’t think of a single of her exes who had even one of those qualities, let alone all three. Clearly out of Langa’s league, but hey, assholes often had that kind of luck in relationships. This was like her best friend and her ex all over again; sweethearts and fuckers togheter were God’s favorite prank on humanity, apparently.

“...I have to go, Reki. I need to sleep and wake up bright and early for some plotting.”

“Plotting like… a garden?”

“Oh, yeah. Totally. And just add the cheese and the sauce over the hot potatoes and you’re good. Good luck on your anniversary! Don’t tell Langa I called!”

“Oh, okay. Have a nice night, Miss! Will you call again to speak with Langa?”

“Actually… I’d like to talk to you about something to do with your boards first. But I’ll wait until after your date for it. Tomorrow?”

“Sure! It’s not a date though…”

“Whatever, kid. Goodnight!”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As promised, she called Reki the following day. It was a nice, fruitful conversation, and though Reki hadn’t promised her anything, she knew by the wonder in his voice that he’d talk it out with someone to hype himself up before agreeing.

So now, all she had to do was wait. Thankful it was the weekend, so she could laze around in her house, donning her favorite, Rich-Widow bathrobe, occasionally gazing at her phone on the coffee table.

When it finally rang, she looked at the number, to make sure it was the one that had her blocked until then. And after confirming, she cheerfully let it go to voicemail, because she wasn’t above pettiness.

The second time, though, she accepted the facetime request. This was still her job, after all.

“Hello?”

“Why are you trying to hire Reki?”

It was the first time she ever saw Langa, outside from the pictures she had managed to gather, from years before. It grated her nerves to admit it, but the bastard child was actually cute in those, and the years had been even nicer on him. Beautiful, in a prince-like sort of way; Light blue hair, ice-like eyes, skin fairer than Snowhite’s. And a delightful frown creasing such a perfectly symmetrical face. Ahhh, sweet revenge.

“Sorry, who is this?” She couldn’t resist. It was just too perfect.

“Miss. You know who I am. You've been trying to recruit me for weeks. Why are you after Reki now?.”

The smile on her face was nothing short of malicious.

“Oh, so he told you about my offer.”

“Reki is awesome, but H-Y uses Thriner’s boards for your athletes. Not custom made!”

“Well, some of our boys have been asking around for a change in that respect. After a certain someone got a custom made board from a ‘mysterious japanese manufacturer’, word got around, and my boss had been looking for him. Athletes and their superstitions, you know how it is. We want our boys to do their best, and that can only happen with equipment that's both top quality and makes them happy.”

“Reki makes mine, though. And he makes skateboards. The snowboard was a one-off.”

“Well, his ‘one off’ helped a kid in the rival company destroy one of our top champions, and got everyone all jittery for a Kyan Original. Also, you gotta learn how to share Langa, especially since Reki is going to be making them for all. My. Boys.”

Did she have to stress those words there and directly attack Langa like that?

Yes. Watching his face crumble with jealousy and rage was SO worth it.

To be fair, it WAS true that her boss was happy to hire Reki, if only to put their most superstitious athletes to rest. But even if he hadn’t, she would have paid for the kid’s salary herself if it got that kind of reaction out of Langa.

…She was getting way too much enjoyement over torturing a kid many years her junior, huh. Well. She never claimed to be a good person.

“He could reject your offer, though.”

It sounded a lot like ‘I’ll convince him to do so’, but Lottie wasn’t the best for nothing.

“Our offer was not limited to a juicy salary doing what he likes, we’d also help him enroll in a very prestigious Engineering college here. The one he’s at right now isn’t very good, as I’m sure you know. You wouldn’t want to get in the way of him following his dreams, would you?”

Langa’s face soured even more. Lottie wanted to cheer, but she made herself soften her voice. You grab more flies with honey than vinegar, after all, and she had one last ace under her sleeve.

“Listen. I know how you feel about Reki.”

“I… don’t know what you mean”, but the blush was oh so telling. So Reki was the oblivious one, while Langa silently pined. She was quite happy with this, to be honest. Let the brat suffer while her angel boy thrived in ignorance.

“Please, you are not subtle. Neither is he, by the way, although I’m sure he has yet to realize about his true feelings.”

“...you know that, and you still want to take him away.”

Langa’s voice was so low, almost broken. She actually felt for him, for a second forgetting what an annoying brat he was. He sounded absolutely heartbroken at the idea of losing Reki, she realized. Nanako wasn’t joking when he called him her son’s happiness.

“You know, my company’s offer is still here. You could continue your studies here, let us get you back to full shape, snowboard and model our menswear for easy money. Live with Reki while he chases his dreams, together with you… And that’s not even the best part. I have one last thing to tell you, and if that doesn’t sell you to the idea, I’ll leave you alone for good, no more calls, no more seducing Reki to the dark side.”

Charlotte laid back on her couch, smiling devilishly at the suspicious kid, waiting for him to bite.

“...What is it?”

“Gay marriage is legal in Canada.”

“...!”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A month or so later, she took her first day off in three years, to the surprise of everyone who knew of her workaholic ways. And instead of spending it in the spa, meeting with friends or relaxing at home, she went to pick up two jetlagged boys from the airport, to drive them to their newly rented apartment, halfway between H-Y’s central and the campus both boys would be attending soon.

Hugging Reki, perfect sunshine boy, was worth ruining her spotless attendance record. Langa’s quiet setting in the background, both stubbornly mad that she got her way and a little grateful for giving him the push he needed to finally ask Reki out, was just a bonus.

She was damn good at her job.

#kyan reki #hasegawa langa #renga #renga fic #my writinf #I finished this at like 3 am and it has no editing whatsoever. I'm not sorry #comedy #romance #a poor lady just wants do do her damn job and an annoying brat refuses to let her #happy ending though #love (and capitalism) wins

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grahamcarmen · 3 years

Text

was wondering what it would be like if carmen got her own hideout as a VILE agent

WIP [means i'll probably want to overhaul the whole thing on a later midnight]

Edit: 💀 oh no I copy pasted outta order sonofa-

1410-ish words

“With our current line up? With you?” He said, with a tone of cavalier respect and a nod, so she knew it was a compliment “Sounds like the roster is already full.”l, crossing the white tiled floor to the gold balconies. The transparent white curtains above the open glass doors stirred slightly with the wind, a welcome if small relief to the heat that permeated the air even though it was night.

“An old VILE faculty’s base. A welcoming gift from them. Apparently he had a few of these all around the world. He’d tried to keep a few of them private. They got rid of most of them, had them “cleaned” to avoid evidence.”

Carmen stopped at the entrance, gave an exaggerated flourish of her hand as it left the wall before bringing it near her face. Carmen stared at the dust that had gathered on her fingers. She paused, leaning against the frame, before rubbing her fingers to grind the dust off with a frown.

“But this ones all mine now,” She said.

Gray whistled as he took in the house's size. It almost looked like an amphitheater, the way the semi-circle design did its best to accommodate columns, a double staircase, and tall walls to envelope a second floor only a third the size of the house. The rooms still managed to be vast somehow. Empty too save for a few pieces of aging, if expensive, furniture; some bookshelves, fancy globes, and empty picture frames.

“This place is huge. Faculty money really does go far.” He said in an appreciative tone. He walked to the balcony, leaning over the railing to admire the large pool. Soft lights illuminated the bright green leaves littered on the otherwise clean chlorine blue waters.

He turned to make a remark about how the cleaners were slacking only to notice she hadn’t joined him. She was still trying to grind the dust out of her gloves.

“With a bit of work this place...” He trailed off, looking at the slightly ragged curtains blowing and the expensive tiles.

“Thinking of settling down, Gray?” She replied as she finally looked up, the slight amusement in her voice easing him a little.

“Ha, hardly. But throwing a party here wouldn’t be a bad idea eh?” He grinned, expecting her to react positively to the idea. She’d been all work lately. Even her tendency to wander, a habit that exasperated everyone, only ended with new prizes to show off to faculty rather than celebrating with the rest of the team. But here was an opportunity to shake that routine up a bit.

“Work up some lights, install a sound system, invite the gang, and we can be the highlight of the town for the weekend.” He mused lightly, snickering at memories of throwing bashes back in Australia. Broke into a house much like this one with some temporary mates to throw a huge one there too. Best concert he’d played in his opinion. Blew out a few speakers.

She didn’t answer.

“Carmen?”

“Apparently Shadowsan burned one of the other hideouts. Right after he killed Dexter Wolfe.”

“Dexter who?” He raised a brow at her.

“Wolfe. The VILE faculty member who used to live there.” She glanced back inside the house. He followed her gaze to the empty shelves, layered with perfectly even dust.

He leaned back on the railing and watched her glare, like something would appear on the empty picture frames, or disturb the dust, or even just make the room less vast. More emptiness dispelled by the bit of leftover furniture.

Then she was back to her nonchalant poker face. Looking for a challenge in the situation.

“Wolfe was probably hard to find. He didn’t seem to like staying in one place. I wonder how long it’ll take me to find Shadowsan.” She smirked, clearly expecting to beat whatever unknown record Shadowsan had set.

Tigress had given him the story in an outraged burst, Le chevre and El topo with scoffs, and finally the faculty had given him a more calm report of what had happened. For unknown reasons Shadowsan had defected to work with Carmen. They had given her information that should have destroyed their new bond. Shadowsan had killed her father. Instead of falling apart they had instead continued working together, stronger than ever in their efforts to topple VILE.

Carmen wouldn’t have worked with Shadowsan if he’d actually killed her father, he thought, absently rubbing his jaw of a phantom ache. That’s who Wolfe probably was.

“You never did get along with Shadowsan.” Gray replied, thinking of all the times she’d complained to him that Shadowsan was clearly picking on her, the way he went undermining her achievements.

She gave him a confused look.

“I mean, are you still really going to try to show him up? There’s no real point now.”

“What can I say? I like a challenge.” She smiled arrogantly at him.

“And I wouldn’t say never. He seemed to care a lot when I was younger. He only started acting like a prick when I wanted to join VILE officially. “ She said, finally walking over to the railing to where he was.

Gray stared at her now seemingly dispassionate profile as she gave the luxurious pool a glance.

She wouldn’t have just let VILE tell her something like that without getting to the bottom of it. Shadowsan might have constantly acted like a heel to Carmen but there must be a reason she kept him near after. He was probably more important to her than she’d let on. He was probably a better person than he’d let on as well.

“Never heard you talk this much about yourself.” When they’d modified Carmen’s memories Gray had had to offhandedly remind himself that the train hadn’t happened to her. When she’d come back she’d been even less interested in sharing anything about herself. It felt odd to be back to getting fragments of her again.

“...is it?” Irritation dug into her expression, breaking the collected air she kept trying to keep up yet again.

“Carmen, you didn’t even talk this much back at school.” Gray said flatly.

“I’m not as frank as a bored electrician from Sydney. Go figure.”

“Alright then,” Gray said. Drop the subject.

He waved a hand at the house in general. “What are you going to do with it?”

Carmen paused before answering. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing here for me. It’s not like I need my own hideout. “

“Right. Faculty member now.” He said with a frown.

“Hey, you might make it to a faculty seat one day.” She said in a teasing voice.

“With our current line up? With you?” He said, with a tone of chavalier respect and a nod, so she knew it was a compliment “Sounds like the roster is already full.”

She gave an exaggerated grimace and hiss behind her teeth. “Didn’t take you for a quitter, Gray.”

He gave a short laugh. “Thanks.”

She gave him a shrug, her eyes laughing back with him.

Gray felt like shivering despite the heat. It didn’t feel right. None of this.

“What are you planning on doing when you see him again?” He couldn’t help asking. VILE didn’t like loose ends. As skilled as he was, or rather because he seemed involved and he was skilled, Shadowsan would probably get in Carmen’s path now that she was becoming a bigger threat. Or she’d run off to somehow get to him herself.

“Oh, nothing he wouldn’t deserve.” Carmen said, with a dark cold smile.

Carmen spun the keys around her gloved finger before tossing them to Gray, the small gold keys glinting as they landed coldly in his palm. “The place is all yours.”

"Expensive gift." He said.

"You're welcome."

She started for the stairs.

He propped himself of the railing and walked a bit towards him.

“Where ya headed?”

“It’s a faculty thing.” Carmen said proudly, stopping at the top of the stairs.

“Probably won’t need help for this. I’ll catch up with you on some other mission.” She smiled back at him softly.

“Or who knows, maybe the faculty will have another chair available soon.” She raised a brow at him, the soft smile turning into an unfamiliar grin. Expecting him, he supposed, to rise to a challenge.

He looked at her quietly for a moment before he smiled back.

“That’s alright. Got plans for later anyway.”

“Invite me to the party?” She grinned. A more familiar one this time. One that felt...right.

“Not a party, sadly. Mission.”

“For VILE?” Carmen looked at him curiously.

“No. Just some personal business in Iceland.”

#red crackle thoughts #red crackle #gray x carmen #carmen x gray #graham x carmen #carmen x graham #fic #i think that me listening to fluffy RC song while writing this was very ironic of me

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oliviaischillin1204 · 3 years

Note

Do you take requests? If so, would you consider doing an Intruality fic? Both as switches, preferably, but i just think it’s a really underrated and cute ship, and you’d do such a good job at it

the one where Remus bugs Patton

Pairings: Romantic Intruality

Word Count: 2,661 words

Warnings: references to bugs being used to tickle the lee-- no actual bugs are involved, but there’s a lot of talk about them

ok. this has been a WIP since May 30, 2020, so if it feels disjointed... that’s why lmao. ALSO i’m using this as a response for a prompt from September 17, 2020, which was not my plan, but hey, why not!

also, please don’t comment about how long it’s taking me to write again, even as a joke. thank you!

It’s one of Patton’s favorite games to play with Remus.

Well, it’s not really a game, technically, because they both end up as winners, in Patton’s opinion. Whenever either of them wants some affection, they just have to go up to the other and request whatever kind of kiss they want. Sweet one, gross one, funny one-- part of the fun was coming up with increasingly random kiss requests, and seeing what the other one would respond with.

It was especially fun to play their game in front of other people (whose reactions range from overdramatic catcalling to overdramatic gagging), but then there were moments like this-- late at night, cuddled together in Patton’s bed, perfectly comfy and warm and content-- that it was just another way for the two of them to shower each of in love.

“Quick one?” Patton asked quietly, not wanting to break the calm spell they’d found. Remus immediately responsed, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Patton’s lips. Even that short touch felt electric to Patton, and he squirmed his legs happily at the feeling.

“Slow one,” Remus requested next, wrapping Patton even tighter in his arms. Patton smiled, tilting his head upwards and recapturing his boyfriend’s lips in a deep kiss. He could feel Remus’ smile against him, his hand coming up to brush through Patton’s hair.

The kiss left Patton feeling a little lightheaded, but that certainly didn’t stop him from continuing the game.

“Soft one.”

The two connected again, their lips just barely grazing each other before coming together in a gentle touch. It stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, and Patton thought there was no better feeling in the world than Remus’ warmth against him.

They pulled back, and Patton sighed happily, gazing up at Remus with a content gaze.

Remus’ eyes gleamed. “Sexy one!”

Patton blushed. He sighed fondly, but he still craned his head around to better face his boyfriend. The two shared a just-this-side-of-decent kiss before they pulled away, Patton giving Remus’ lower lip a quick nip as they parted.

“You always ask for that one,” he said, hoping his flustered state wasn’t too noticeable.

Judging from the way Remus’ smile turned teasing, he wasn’t so lucky. “Only because you blush so pretty when I do, creampuff!”

Patton giggled, turning away to hide his deepening blush. “Oh, hush, you--”

“What? It’s true, dumpling! It makes you look sweeter than candy! And you taste better, too.”

“Shush!” Patton insisted, bapping Remus’ chest and fighting the urge to hide his face in his hands. Remus merely laughed, shifting a little so he could hold Patton with his back against Remus’ chest.

“You’re blushing ‘cause it’s true,” he crooned in Patton’s ear. The moral side huffed a giggle at his boyfriend’s antics. He turned to give him the stinkeye.

“Meanie.”

Remus shrugged. “You gonna take your turn, or what?”

Patton humphed, but as he watched Remus smile in profile, he got a new idea into his head.

“Butterfly kiss!”

He craned his head to the side, getting as close to Remus’ face as possible, and rapidly fluttered his eyelashes against his cheek.

Immediately Remus squeaked, jerking his head away. He shot Patton a wide-eyed look.

“What the-- what? Butterfly what?”

Patto blinked, surprised by Remus’ confusion. “A butterfly kiss?”

Remus quirked his head at him. “Do... butterflies kiss people?”

A beat, and then an amused laugh escaped Patton’s lips. “Oh my goodness, you’re adorable.” He caught one of Remus’ hands in his own, and slowly lifted it up to his face.

“This is a butterfly kiss.”

Patton quickly fluttered his eyes against the back of Remus’ hand, gently grazing his eyelashes along the skin. Remus’ fingers twitched on reflex, but he seemed to be trying to stay as still as possible.

“Who the hell came up with that?”

Patton shrugged, kissing the back of Remus’ hand before dropping it. “I don’t know, butterfly scientists? I think it’s just because it tickles a little.”

Remus hummed noncommitally, and Patton let the comfortable silence overtake them again. He was only slightly surprised a few minutes later when Remus announced, “My turn!”

Patton smiled, sitting up slightly in Remus’ grasp. “Ready!”

“Bumblebee kiss!”

Patton paused, tilting his head in confusion.

“I haven’t heard of that one,” he admitted, but fell silent as Remus lifted his hand and extended one pointer finger.

Patton stared at the finger. It wiggled in a friendly manner.

“Remus--?”

“Bzzzzzzzzz...”

Patton cut himself off as Remus began making a quiet buzzing noise, changing pitch and volume as his finger began floating closer and closer to Patton’s stomach.

Patton’s eyes widened, and he tried to wiggle out of Remus’ grasp to no avail. “Wait!”

Remus didn’t wait. “Bzzzzzzzzz-- mwah!”

All in one moment, Remus’ buzzing cut off as he poked Patton’s tummy pudge with his buzzing finger, pressing a quick kiss to his neck at the exact same time. Patton gasped, letting a shocked snicker escape his mouth.

“You’re so silly--” he started, but Remus merely lifted the finger yet again.

“Bzzzzzzzzz...”

The finger began to spiral, this time heading towards Patton’s ribcage. His giggles began building up in his chest, but Patton felt frozen in place as he watched the finger drift closer.

“Bzzzzzzzzz-- mwah!” Remus darted into Patton’s ribs, wiggling his finger for a few seconds as he gave Patton another tickly kiss.

“Nahaha!” Patton protested at the extra tickles Remus was giving him, shoving his torso in the other direction to escape his wiggling finger. “No no no, don’t!”

He had very little hopes of his boyfriend listening to his request (not that Patton minded-- he loved how fun Remus’ silly moods were) but his expectations were confirmed as Remus pulled his hand back, only to begin swirling the one pointer finger ominously slowly.

“Bzzzzzzzzz...” he sang directly into Patton’s ear. The teasing inflection of his voice was so much worse now that Patton was already giggling, and he couldn’t stop himself from sucking his stomach in as far as he could.

“Remus!” he squealed, wiggling side to side and knowing it was pointless.

“Bzzzzzzzz-- mwah mwah mwah!” And with that, Remus let his ‘bumblebee’ land right in Patton’s bellybutton, wiggling rapidly and making Patton’s stomach jiggle. At the same time, he dove in to smother the back of Patton’s neck with kisses, letting his mustache just barely graze the sensitive skin.

Patton gasped and squealed at the same time. Dazed and giddy, he arched his back on reflex, only for his peals of laughter to heighten as he pushed Remus’ buzzing finger further into his tickle spot. He squealed even louder as he finally remembered-- oh, yeah, he has arms.

Immediately Patton’s hands shot down to push Remus’ tickling hand away from his stomach. Remus acquiesced easily, pulling his hand gently out of Patton’s tired grip and loosening his hold. He leaned back against the pillows; Patton couldn’t see him, but he knew his boyfriend had a very amused look on his face.

“Was that a good kiss, honeybee?” he asked sweetly. Patton giggled; now that the tickles were over, his face was flushing at how silly his boyfriend was being.

“No,” he said faux-petulantly, flopping back against Remus’ chest and crossing his arms (very casually protecting as much of his ticklish torso as he could). “No bug tickles.”

Behind him, Remus pretended to gasp indignantly. “Excuse me, I did not mean to tickle you! It’s not my fault you got all squirmy from a simple bumblebee kiss.”

Patton giggled again. In his still flustered state, the only retort he could find was, “I’m not that squirmy.”

Again, he could perfectly imagine the look of amused disbelief Remus was giving him now. “Uh, yuh huh you are, puddin’. You were wiggling all over like you had ants in your pants--”

His voice cut off, and although it only took Patton all of three seconds to catch up to his train of thought, it was too late.

Still, he whipped around as best as he could, making his voice as stern as possible as he said, “Remus, don’t you dare--”

“Too late!” Remus crowed gleefully. “Ant kisses for you!”

Right away his mouth was back against Patton’s neck, and Patton made his gasp-squeal noise again. He scrunched his neck to defend himself as much as possible, but it wasn’t until he felt fingers tappin the tops of his thighs that he realized what he should have been trying to defend.

“Oh, look at all the happy little ants here to give you kisses!” Remsu cheered, skittering and scratching all over the tops and sides of Patton’s thighs. “They just love to hear your sweet little giggles! Sweeter than ice cream melting at a picnic!”

His hands began alternating from fluttering against the outsides of Patton’s thighs, to haphazardly yet efficiently squeezing the insides. Patton kicked his legs madly against the tickling sensations, until Remus trapped one of his legs between his own and began running his leg hair across Patton’s calf and shin.

“Ants in your pants! Ants in your pants!” he sang quietly in between kisses. Patton rocked forwards as he weakly tried to pull Remus’ hands off of his thighs, but he was just a bit too distracted at the moment to manage it.

Luckily, he had the best boyfriend in the whole wide world, because Remus soon pulled back once again, letting Patton catch his breath as he rubbed away the phantom tingles from his skin.

“Mean, rude, evil...” he muttered under his breath with a voice full od love. Remus snickered, poking Patton once in the back and making him shoot ramrod straight.

“You liked them,” he teased. “You loved the ant kisses.”

Patton sighed, falling back against Remus’ chest once more.

“Maybe so,” he admitted. “Butterflies and bumblebees and ants-- they’re all very cute, but--”

“But just no spiders, right?” Remus finished immediately, wrapping his arms around Patton’s chest and placing a kiss on the back of his head. “I’ve got you, Pat-Pat.”

He fell back into a comfortable silence, but Patton was lost in thought. It was true-- whenever the two of them had some tickly fun together, the word ‘spider’ very specifically never came up. Patton had never asked, and he hadn’t had to: Remus was just sweet like that. Still...

He turned his head and nuzzled under Remus’ chin.

“Reemie?” he asked softly. When Remus hummed in response, Patton continued carefully.

“How would... how would a spider kiss go, do you think?” he asked, craning his neck up to look for Remus’ reaction.

A beat, and then he got it: Remus’ face shifted from confusion to elation in less than a second.

“Patty-bear!” he crooned, bouncing both of them in excitement. “You do love me!” He rocked Patton side to side, shocking another barrage of giggles out of him.

Then his voice shifted a little lower, leaning a little closer as he cooed, “And I know someone who loves you...”

Already patton could feel his heart seeding up again. He turned away from Remus, only to catch a glimpse of it: Remus’ right hand, in a perfect claw formation,

Patton made a choked noise, flapping his hands in anticipation. “Re-mus!”

“What?” Remus asked casually. “It’s not me! It’s just my friend, Mr. Spider.”

‘Mr. Spider’ waved at Patton, fingers wiggling mischievously in the air. Patton squeaked and covered his face, and immediately Remus tsked.

“No hiding, Mr. Mom...” he chided gently. “Mr. Spider just wants to show you how much he loves you!”

He gently grabbed Patton’s left wrist, and pulled his arm out straight to the side.

“Look at how many kisses he’s giving you!” he cooed, leaning over to smack a quick kiss onto Patton’s wrist. Then another, a little bit further up his arm, until he was pressing a row of tiny kisses all the way up Patton’s forearm. It wasn’t really tickly, but it was silly enough to make Patton laugh anyway.

Until Remus’ other hand, the one known as Mr. Spider, began spidering just above his left hip. Patton squeaked, jerking his arm in on impulse, but it stayed firm in Remus’ grasp, leaving his entire left side exposed for Remus’ spidering fingers.

“Remus-- Remus!”

Remus hummed in response, his mouth now pressed against the crook of Patton’s elbow while his fingers congregated on the dip of his waistline. The scratchy, fluttery feelings sent tingles all the way through Patton’s body, and he curled his toes on instinct as he exploded with giggles and squirmed as much as he could.

“Mr. Spider just loves you so much, Patty-doll...” Remus murmured into his elbow, nibbling just slightly enough to make Patton squeal. “He wants to give you so many little kisses all over!”

Faster than Patton could track, Remus’ hand moved up and down his side, nails tracing and crazing across the skin as delicately as possible. Patton squealed and squirmed and threw his body as farto the other side as possible.

“Nohohoho!” he begged in delight, bouncing his legs desperately. “Not thehehehere!”

He reached around with his other arm to belatedly block Remus’ spidering fingers. Of course, the move ended up being a very bad (or very good) idea: Remus easily grabbed Patton’s other wrist, and in one swift movement flipped them both around until Patton was flat on his back.

“Any lasts requests?” Remus questioned, staring him down from above. Patton blinked, cheeks flushed and heart pounding.

“Spider kiss,” he asked breathlessly, smiling up at Remus. “Please?”

Remus’ grin was bright and dangerous. Patton loved it so much.

And then that grin disappeared as Remus yanked up Patton’s shirt and dropped to press kisses against every inch of Patton’s stomach-- every inch where he wasn’t spidering all ten of his fingers across the hyper-sensitive skin, at least.

Patton’s shriek was immediate, back arching and stomach sucking in at the same time. Remus used both hands to spider from the center of Patton’s stomach, out to the sides; from there he let his lips fall to press kiss after tickly kiss against the skin, even blowing a raspberry or two (or three or five or eight) against the skin.

“Rehehehehe-mus!” Patton begged as Remus focused on one specific spot on his sides. “Plehehehe--”

“Please?” Remus asked, blowing another tiny raspberry against the spot. “Please what? Please more? More spider kisses?”

He paired each sentence with another wiggle of his spidering fingers; after each question, there was another tickly kiss against the softest parts of Patton’s tummy. His fingers crawled from his ribs to his sides to his tummy to his hips to the little bit of his back that he could reached.

Patton didn’t even know how long he was screaming in laughter and squirming in delight. All he knew was that Remus was eventually sitting back on his haunches, watching fondly as Patton’s laughter fell back into quiet giggles.

“All good?” he asked softly, patting Patton’s knee comfortingly. Patton coughed, nodded, and sat up until the two were sitting face to face.

“I think we need to call an exterminator,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve got a lot of bugs in here.”

Remus stared at him in silence. Patton stared back.

And then the two fell into laughter, leaning forward until their foreheads knocked, which only sent them further into laughter. Remus reached out and grabbed Patton’s hands, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles.

“True love’s kiss,” he murmured softly, ducking his head as if he could hide the blush that was forming on his cheeks at the request. “Please.”

Patton hummed in consideration. “Well, normally I’d say yes right awya, but you did just get finished tickling the snot out of me--”

“And I’ll do it again,” Remus interjected, looking back up as he wiggled his fingers teasingly. “Unless you give me true love’s kiss right now.”

Patton smiled, leaning forward to give his boyfriend exactly what he asked for.

#Anonymous #my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #the one where remus bugs patton #lee!patton #ler!remus #prompt #requested on september 17 2020 #this is not proofread aside from being half written for 10 months #also i definitely wanna do a reblog dump tomorrow ajsdhhsj i have so much stuff from the past couple weeks lmao

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

Wip Wednesday

Untitled Fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together – until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. This goes on for months, their tentative friendship turning to flirtatious virtual dates, and now that Hotch knows how old Spencer actually is the barriers just continue to break down one by one. The next escalation? Stepping up from text messages... to a phone call. But it isn’t planned, or how either imagined it would be. In fact, it all begins because of a case...

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Set in late season 6/early season 7, unbeta’d, first draft)

(Without getting into spoilers I’m going to skim over the how and the why of Hotch knowing Spencer’s age now, just know it happens. It had to at some point, right? But they both still don’t know what the other looks like, or even heard each other speak... until now.)

Spencer doesn’t even see the caller ID flash across his phone screen. He's too busy with the security work he’s been buried in all morning. A project that the Attorney General sent to their department, specifically, and yet Spencer always gets roped into completing it on his own. Because ‘you can finish it faster than all of us combined, have at it tiger’, and while he may have the Ph.D.’s and titles to back up his academic positions, he’s still the newest and youngest member on the board. Seniority trumps intellect, yet again. He hates bureaucracy with a passion. But Spencer doesn’t even bother to look down at his phone when it rings, just reaches over for it blindly with a half-suffering sigh. Phone calls are always consultations, or requests from other universities, or students and faculty calling in for favors, or something else that isn’t as important to him whatsoever.

Not like Hotch is.

But Hotch is always a text. Spencer knows that text tone, his heart skips when it chimes, his ear is trained for it now. This morning, however, that’s not what happens. His phone rings, and he answers like he always does during office hours. Not even looking up from his work as he puts his phone to his ear.

“This is Dr. Reid.”

There’s a heavy pause on the line, and Spencer is in the middle of writing out an equation that takes up half a page of his notebook. Too busy to notice it right away.

“... Dr. Reid, this is SSA Hot--” the man stops, clears his throat, voice pitching even lower in an attempt to quiet the conversation. Wherever he is at. “... it’s Hotch.”

Spencer’s heart literally stops in his chest.

The deep bass, reverberating tones, ring in his ears like church bells and he doesn’t quite comprehend what is happening even as his mind whirls. Stalled, like a car engine that is being revved uselessly, to no avail.

There’s no way…

“H-Hotch?”

If he was in his right mind whatsoever, instead of stunned speechless, Spencer would have winced at the breathless sound he just let out.

“I didn’t -- I’m sorry, this wasn’t how I wanted our first phone conversation to go,” Hotch says, his voice clear and concise and smooth as water flowing over river stones. Just as cool, somehow, and yet there’s warmth in the layers underneath. They weave their way in after he apologizes, earnestly, like a small dam breaking in his cadence. He truly was sorry that he had sprung himself on Spencer like this, bringing them into a new light. Another barrier broken between them. “But I need your help.”

That shakes Spencer out of his mild panic. His irrational worry about how he sounds on the phone -- how young he sounds on the phone, because it’s far too late to do anything about that, now -- or how his voice cracks when he answers the older man. Still partially in shock, mind racing to righten itself, somehow.

“R-Right. Yes, of course. You’re still on your case, in Wyoming?” It all comes out in a rush as Spencer closes his notebook and stands up from his desk in a shot, immediately pacing along one of his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in his office. Free hand raking through his hair to ground himself.

“Yes, the geographical profile is too complex for us to decipher and we don’t have time to cycle it through digitally. There’s a snow storm up here, we have next to no service. I can’t even get text messages or email out… just phone calls. Emergency phone calls.” There’s an authority to Hotch’s voice that just feels like it fits him, and his job, and how Spencer remembers their first emails sounding -- it’s nothing like how they text, how they message each other at all hours of the night and make each other laugh on different sides of the country. He finds he likes it, though, finds it soothing in a way that calms his rattled nerves the more he speaks, and gets Spencer to focus on the task at hand. Hotch’s team is on a case, people are dead, a killer is on the loose. Hotch needs his help. “It also means we can’t access anything from the home office at Quantico, so we’re stuck up a creek at the moment.”

“I’m faster than a computer, anyway, have Ms. Garcia send it all over to me as soon as she can,” Spencer tells him, putting his phone between his ear and shoulder as he scoops up his laptop and races out of his office. Making a beeline towards the conference room where he’ll have more room to work. Spencer is already logging into his email and closing the door with his foot for privacy when he juggles his phone to his hand. “I’m putting you on speaker, but it’s just me in here. I can start when I have everything.” He drops his cell to the table and leans over it as he sets up, clearing off the work space as quick as his frantic hands allow.

But something stops him. Spencer pauses in his shuffling of papers left over from that morning’s meetings as a thought sticks in the forefront of his mind. Entirely inappropriate, considering the circumstances, but… face flushed red and eyes darting to the phone -- Hotch’s name there above the call time duration -- Spencer licks his lips nervously and asks, anyway.

“... am I on speaker there?”

“Not yet, I was about to switch you over.”

“Wait! I just --” he pauses, flushing further at his outburst, and he knows his words have gone a little breathless and high and he’s embarrassed by it all but... he has to say it. The development is too shocking, too out of their realm of influence. If and when they had planned on moving up from texts to phone calls, it wouldn’t have gone like this, or have had this much urgency. It’s still the first time Spencer has ever heard Hotch speak, and he can’t ignore how groundbreaking that is. What it’s changing between them, even as they work on a case that requires all their attention.

“-- I really like the sound of your voice,” he admits, his own words quieted because he knows this isn’t the time or the place. “The decibels are soothing, which is so fascinating to me and I’m sure there’s a science behind it, I’ll have to look it up later. And…it’s close to how I pictured you might sound… but better?” God, Spencer never stumbles over words like this and he clears his throat as he tries to righten his composure to something a little less… awestruck. Focus. They have a case. “Will you -- can we talk tonight, too? Please.”

“Of course,” Hotch says quietly, assuringly, and his voice rumbles through the speaker on the table. Spencer feels it like a shockwave, from shaking breath to numb fingertips. He’s glad he’s leaning against the table, when it happens, because he goes a little lightheaded from it. “You’re… just as I expected.” And there’s a tone there that says it like praise, and Spencer’s heart feels light as air. “We’ll talk more about it later,” Hotch promises, and suddenly Spencer can hear a door opening on the other end of the line and a click of sound as the police station background noise filters through the conference room. “You’re on speaker with my team,” Hotch says, his voice a little bit further away, but not any less stronger for it. “This is Dr. Spencer Reid at CalTech, he’s going to finish the geographical profile for us.”

(tbc...)

#I will begin posting Saturday April 3rd #im officially setting a date #THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #I'm really getting into the meat of why I started writing this in the first place and I'm so EXCITED about it #idk if anyone reads these tags but I will be posting an overview/preview before I post the fic with CW and mutlimedia content links #all sorts of crap #I go all out when I do long fics I just can't help it #anyway #early post since I had time today #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting #snippets no one asked for

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Note

99 🖤🖤

Hello there! You’re officially my last dialogue prompt 🤩 I’m sorry this took so long, anon, I hope you’re gonna like it at least a little 🤓

I don’t take prompts for this challenge anymore. Just wanted to put that out there 😇 There are so many amazing ones on that list, but as of now I have 3 WIPs and one additional one in the works and I’d like to finish them before wtfock ends 😅

Anywho, here you go!

99. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

* * *

Robbe is going to kill Moyo.

In fact, he's going to kill all three of his so-called friends because none of them protested when Moyo, tipsy and on his way to drunk, announced that this party sucked and was in dire need of some spice.

He wishes he had listened to his past self and stayed home just like he had originally planned. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, editing videos or maybe spent in bed rewatching Romeo and Juliet in peace with no broers around to mock his movie choice while stuffing his face with onion chips and pretending the movie does not make him emotional, no sir. The wetness in his eyes must be sweat, not tears.

Then, after the movie would have ended, his sulking levels high, it would be time for his favorite activity of recent - daydreaming about reality in which he actually had the fucking guts to make a proper move instead of turning red everytime a certain someone was in his close proximity; smiling at him with that perfect sweet lovely smile that turned his already gorgeous features so much more beautiful that Robbe could weep.

And doesn’t that sound like a magnificent evening?

It may sound kinda lame, Robbe is a man enough to admit that, but the prospect of spending the night watching his friends salivating over girls they can’t get being the alternative wouldn't be particularly alluring to anyone, he guesses. Especially since he never partakes in that salivating part himself, instead chugging one beer after another and playing his designated role of a wallflower.

Story of his life.

The whole thing just plain sucks, because it’s not like his friends aren’t well aware of the fact that Robbe’s interests lie elsewhere and that he’s usually bored out of his mind at those parties. But when there’s at least a semi-attractive girl around them they don’t care about anything else but getting her number and Robbe’s not exactly their priority then. In fact, he could well enough not be there at all and it wouldn’t make much difference. It happens every time they drag him along to those parties and every time he just stands there, rolling his eyes on their embarrassing attempts of flirting.

Not like he’s the master of flirting himself, but even he’s not capable of stooping as low as they usually do.

This time, he reluctantly agreed to come to this one, against his better judgement, after Jens bugged him about it for their entire biology class, trying to convince him it was going to be more of a small gathering rather than a party. And frankly speaking, he did that just to make him shut up so mrs Jansen stopped glaring at him. Like he was the one running his mouth.

Once Robbe said the magic words “I’ll be there” there was no way of getting out of it. Still, his plan was to come by for an hour or two to get the broers of his back, drink a few beers, talk to Jana maybe, and then quietly leave when everyone would be too drunk and too busy tonguing at each other's tonsils to notice he's gone.

But to his surprise, the party turned out not to be the typical banger they usually attended. It wasn’t even that bad and he was kinda having fun since he wasn't forced to play the guys' sidekick-gay-friend this time around and instead was dragged by Zoe to the kitchen to drink shots with her, Jana and Luca right after he arrived.

However, parties are not really his scene in general so when it started getting really late he finished his last Buttery Nipple shot composed by Luca (don’t ask) and was just about to make an apologetic face at the girls and say his goodbyes.

But then Noor and Brit arrived.

With him.

And Robbe almost swallowed his tongue.

Nobody should have the right to look this good but there he was, laughing with Milan in the hall while taking his signature leather jacket off, running a hand through his smooth like silk hair (Robbe's convinced it's indeed very silky) to ruffle it a little like it ever needed any styling, and in general looking like he had just walked out of Robbe's dream straight into Milan's apartment.

Sander Driesen.

The reason for Robbe’s cheeks being permanently stained pink as of late.

They met at one of those after school clubs led by Amber several weeks ago that Robbe came to only because he agreed (after pretty much being blackmailed into it) to play Aaron’s wingman in winning Amber’s heart.

He was gone as soon as those green eyes met his and the boy in front of him, wearing a black Bowie t-shirt and a leather jacket, shook his hand while smiling a little unsurely but still friendly, never breaking their eye contact as he introduced himself in a honey-like voice that penetrated every cell of his body, knees buckling a little, heart stuttering, the whole shebang.

He’s still thanking god he managed to hold back the whimper that was about to get out when he was saying his own name back.

Needless to say, the meeting became much more bearable after that.

Even having to witness Aaron’s cringeworthy attempts of gaining Amber’s attention weren’t that bad anymore. Not when they made Sander chuckle under his breath and catch his eye over Amber’s shoulder, winking at Robbe with a mischief dancing in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his own laugh at bay.

And then, Amber came up with some stupid “love excercise” or whatever the fuck she called it and made them all hold hands in a circle. She claimed it released stress and spread positivity or some other bullshit, but Robbe was convinced it was just a ploy she came up with to hold the school’s number one fuckboy Senne’s hand (who, if Robbe had to guess, also wasn’t there out of his own free will).

Robbe wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, especially with people he had no business of touching in the first place so the whole thing was beyond painful. Thankfully, Jana came to his rescue, snatching his right hand as they exchanged smirks over Amber’s lofty speech about positive energy filling their bodies.

But then someone else gently took his other hand and when he went to inspect who it was, annoyance already starting to creep in, his mouth went dry, eyes going up, up, up the person’s leather-clad arm before stopping on Sander’s face, looking far too entertained.

The boy took an overly deep breath, eyes closed and face feigning seriousness, breathing out loudly.

“Ahh, I can already feel that rush of energy,” Sander leaned in to whisper to him, a teasing tilt to his voice making Robbe giggled at his antics.

“I guess Amber was right then.”

“No no, I don’t think it’s Amber’s techniques, I just think it’s because of you.”

Robbe just gaped at this shameless flirting, receiving another wink when caught blushing deep pink. Sander seemed unfazed though, totally chill, like saying lame lines and winking at boys was in his everyday repertoire. It definitely wasn’t like that for Robbe, and definitely not from boys as cute as Sander.

He should have probably rolled his eyes at him, called him cocky and full of himself. And yet.

There was something about Sander’s demeanor that screamed it was all a facade, and that underneath there was a huge dork that came out right after that guard was let down. Robbe couldn’t even be annoyed with the smug winking because it was adorned with such a cute smile that it called for a fond eye roll rather than scoffing.

Before he could form at least a half cool response, Amber started shushing all of them with a bossy face, glaring at every person that dared to make a sound. So with a rush of sudden boldness, Robbe just squeezed Sander’s hand and looked at him from under his lashes, biting his lip in an attempt at being coy (and cringing at himself internally) despite his body thrumming with nerves standing this close to Sander, and for some unknown reason it brought the desired effect.

Sander kept smiling at him surreptitiously throughout the entire meeting, making him laugh with his playful faces at some of Amber’s more ridiculous statements, and it felt like they had an entire conversation even though they didn’t exchange one word during that half an hour.

When they were finally free to go home it was after 21, Robbe realized with a whine. After they all collected their things and were ready to leave, Sander turned around in the doorway, searching for Robbe’s eyes while ignoring the rest of their friends crowding against the door, and when Robbe glanced furtively into his direction his expression turned almost bashful as he said bye, Robin.

And then again with the winking.

Good god this boy.

And how cute it was he couldn’t actually wink? It looked more like a reinforced blinking, but he still looked cute doing it.

Once Robbe came back home that evening, thoughts occupied with bleached hair and the smell of leather jacket, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Sander’s social media. In just one sitting he gathered a handful of information, finding out Sander was a year older and recently transferred to his school (which would explain how he had missed him in the corridors). He also had a photo with Amber down at the bottom of his profile and from the caption it seemed like they were cousins.

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the ‘follow’ button, but he didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he just closed the app, throwing his phone on his bed in exasperation feeling sorry for himself and his inexperience in talking to boys.

The universe decided to be graceful for him for once in his life though and put Sander on his path again only 3 days later.

Like every Saturday afternoon Robbe was in the skate park with the broers, taking piss of one another’s skills and trying out new tricks while basking in the October sun that felt more like it was full on spring rather than the beginning of fall. He was in the middle of showing off some of his best tricks to the sounds of his friends hollering when he caught sight of bleached hair in his peripheral, almost falling straight on his ass. But luck was on his side and he avoided making a spectacle out of himself.

Once he was safely on the ground, skateboard under his foot, he glanced in the direction of white hair one more time to see Sander lowering his vintage camera and whistling, making an impressed face and promptly causing Robbe to downcast his eyes bashfully.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Robin.”

Robbe sighed. “It’s Robbe.”

“I know, but isn’t that a cute nickname?”

Robbe ducked his head, smiling a little to himself, cursing the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this annoying?”

For a moment, Sander seemed to be taken aback, but then he must have noticed the teasing glint in Robbe’s eyes because he relaxed visibly, confidence back on his face.

Then, easily and offhandedly, he said, “No, just with very certain people.”

If Robbe had any doubts before about Sander taking immense pleasure out of teasing him, he didn’t anymore. He was flashed with another mischievous smile and then Sander nodded at the bowl.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Robbe scratched at the back of his neck self-conciously, ignoring his friends’ intrigued faces and praying they didn’t say anything stupid. “To be honest, these aren’t even that difficult, anybody could do them...”

“Pff, I tried this skateboarding thing once and let me tell you, I was an absolute disaster so don’t sell yourself short.” Sander nudged at his shoulder with a knowing look, the contact sending a shiver through Robbe’s entire body.

“So what are you doing here if you suck at it?” He sent him a toothy grin when Sander gaped at his brazen words, faux-scandalized.

He then lifted his camera swiftly and took a photo of Robbe’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m only around this deadly thing to take artsy pictures of cute boys.”

Looking very proud of himself, Sander laughed at his indignant spluttering, refusing to show Robbe the photo at first, giving in a few seconds later under his killer pout (Sander’s words).

“So, is this where you spend your afternoons?” he asked casually once they sat down at a nearby bench, Sander scrolling through his camera roll and showing him the photos.

Robbe nodded, watching Aaron from afar attempting the backside ollie and failing miserably. It pulled out a snort from Sander.

“Well, you’re definitely better at it than your friends.”

Elbowing him in the side as a sign of loyalty to his friends, he replied. “Jens is actually better than me.”

Sander sent him a curious look. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?! Eww, no! I have way better taste than that.” It’s not like he’d admit he had crushed on his best friend a year ago. So, hopefully, he sounded convincing.

Sander lifted his hands in surrender, laughing at his outburst. “Okay, okay, message received, only the cutest boys for you,” he paused, biting at his lip to hold his smirk. “Makes sense,” he muttered under his breath, but Robbe heard him anyway.

Later that day, he got a instagram notification that informed him that earthlingoddity was following him as of now and damn if that didn’t make Robbe’s heart beat faster.

earthlingoddity sent you a link

S: Considering today’s unfortunate incident, I made you a bowie playlist, need to teach the youngsters like you the real music 😎😏

The first message from Sander made him scoff, but he rolled his eyes at himself anyway when he remembered his conversation with him at the skatepark, asking about the shirt and prompting Sander to quiz him about David Bowie’s songs.

Robbe hid his face in his hands at the mere memory.

Space Cowboy.

How embarrassing.

Sander tried so hard not to burst out laughing at Robbe’s confusion when his answer was met with a blank stare, bless him.

R: So you're one of those people?

S: What people?

R: Self-righteous hipsters 😜

S: Now now Robin

No need for names 😩

R: It's Robbe

R o b b e

S: Okay Robin ;)

R: 🙄

Unbelievable

S: So

What's up? 🙃

They kept up at this casual texting for 2 recent weeks, getting to know each other, and Sander confirming that he does, in fact, have a soft side. Robbe also realized he was a much bolder person when no face to face interaction was required when he had more time before responding to Sander. Then there were the occasional “hellos” at school when they crossed paths in the halls, but so far their friendship, if he could even call it that, hadn’t evolved further.

In fact, this party was the first time Robbe had seen him in a week.

Their eyes met for a few short seconds and Robbe waved at him, immediately after wanting to bang his head at the table because who the fuck waves these days?

Sander didn’t seem to mind this dorky display at all, beaming at him from across the hallway and not paying much attention to Milan who was talking his ear off. A second later, he was out of Robbe’s sight, dragged by Milan and the girls to the living room, leaving him staring longingly after him.

Before Robbe got his shit together and on shaky legs went there to maybe squeeze out a few words to him, Moyo was already on his way of arranging people into a circle and producing a bottle to spin.

What a bad fucking timing.

This was so not Robbe’s idea of fun so he started to surreptitiously backing off to the hall to slide out the door but Jana, the traitor, grabbed his arm and sat him next to her, seeming very excited about the game.

It’s not like he was the only one reluctant to play though. Sander’s face looked rather bemused too.

“Come oooon, Sander,” Noor groaned at him, pulling at his sleeve relentlessly to make him plop his butt on her left side. “You promised to leave that sulky slash lovesick face at home and have fun. This is fun!”

“I think we have a different definition of fun, darling,” he retorted, his gaze sweeping through the half-drunk faces, stopping at Robbe’s for a millisecond. It was so quick he thought he imagined the apprehensive look on his face, but then Sander did sit down, letting out a long-suffering sigh and promptly avoided his gaze throughout the game. Which was clearly an intentional effort because they sat exactly opposite each other.

To say Robbe was confused would be an understatement.

And that’s how he finds himself here, sitting in a circle amongst his friends and several strangers who keep hollering and shoving tongues in each other’s throats. He had one close call when the bottle spinned by a redhead girl almost pointed at him, making him hold his breath but then stopping on Moyo sitting on his other side, who was way more eager to fill the deed.

When it’s finally Sander’s turn to spin the bottle, Robbe's heart starts beating double time and he twists his fingers nervously. He realizes with dread that there is no good outcome of this situation; if it lands on any of his friends or any of those few people he only vaguely recognizes, he’s going to have to watch Sander play tonsil tennis with them and his stomach turns unpleasantly with something akin to jealousy at the mere thought.

But if it lands on him?

Oh god.

The bottle is spinning already, Robbe having missed the moment Sander put it in motion, too busy wrangling with his thoughts about what he should do. The fact Sander has been avoiding his eyes ever since they started this stupid game makes him even more nervous about the whole thing.

Then the bottle stops, pointing at him so accurately that it leaves no room for question.

And Sander’s face positively falls.

Sitting near him Jens and Moyo are giving him subtle thumbs up and not so subtle shit-eating grins with Aaron next to them clearly confused at their behavior all the while Sander looks like he’s in pain.

Eyes glued to the floor, body rigid, looking like he’d want to be anywhere but here.

People are staring at them, waiting for something to happen and Robbe feels nauseous.

And so humiliated.

How could he misinterpret Sander’s behavior so much? And it’s not even that, not really. Does the idea of kissing him disgusts him that much he can’t even give him one stupid kiss to avoid putting Robbe on the spot?

From the corner of his eye he can see Noor elbowing Sander in the side and there’s an entire conversation happening between them without one word being uttered.

Then, several things happen at once. The boys let go of any subtlety and start whooping and hollering like they want to force Sander to make some kind of move, there’s a loud whack coming from the kitchen where one of the couples went to continue their PDA so Jana and Zoe get up to check the damage and then Adi, who has been rummaging through the liquor cabinet for the last ten minutes, yells that he found a ten year old whiskey, making the broers scrambling off the floor to get their hands on it.

The rest of the people are still here with them though. Still staring. And Sander still seems to be rooted to the spot.

And Robbe has had enough.

Ignoring Noor’s soft Robbe, he gets up and with a heavy heart almost runs to the door, putting his jacket on in a haste, frustration and shame cursing through his body as he runs down the stairs two step at a time, wanting to get outside as fast as he can.

The cold air washes over him once he reaches the entrance and he breaths in shakily, feeling his eyes welling up despite his hardest efforts not to cry.

It just hurts. It really hurts. And if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that there have been witnesses to his humiliation is a small part of the reason why he feels this way. It’s about the fact that it was Sander.

Sander. This boy who let him believe there may actually be someone interested in him. In that way. Sander, who flirted with him, complimented him, smiled at him, listened to him and sent him Bowie playlists.

Sander, who he felt more connected to recently than to any of his friends.

He wipes at his eyes angrily, scoffing at the fact that this asshole was able to make him cry, when he hears rushed steps on the sidewalk behind him.

“Robbe!”

Walking faster, he tries to ignore the sound until there’s a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. He turns around ready to blow out in Sander’s face but the boy is faster.

“I’m so sorry for that,” he pants, voice tinted with desperation, apologies written across his face as his eyes flit all over Robbe’s like he’s trying to read his mind.

But Robbe only lets out a humorless laugh. “No worries, I understand, you were very clear. Point taken,” he sneers, starting to walk again.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sander pleads with him, taking his hand in his own to keep him from leaving. Robbe wants to pull it back, but the distressed look in Sander’s eyes makes him hesitate. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be a part of some stupid game. Not when I spent weeks trying to come up with a perfect scenario for our first kiss in my head.”

Robbe promptly loses his breath at his confession.

“You wanted to kiss me before?”

“Ever since I saw you,” Sander confirms in a small voice. His demeanor lacks the confidence Robbe got acquainted with, ripped of any trace of the usual conckiness. Instead, Sander appears almost shy, biting his lip nervously as if waiting for a blow and heart-breaking rejection.

There won’t be a rejection though. Not tonight.

Without second-guessing himself, Robbe takes that one step that still separates them and seals their lips together, hands drifting to Sander’s rosy cheeks on their own, like there was a magnet pulling them in. Sander is stunned at first, his lips unresponsive, but it only takes about three seconds for his brain to catch up and then.

Then.

Then there’s Chernobyl in Robbe’s head.

Fuck.

The way this boy kisses.

Phew.

Robbe’s brain shuts off as Sander’s mouth moves over his with intention, sliding together in a rhythm that leaves him breathless. It’s almost impossible to keep all the noises that threaten to escape inside, one small whimper getting out without Robbe’s accord, but it’s okay because it gets swallowed by Sander’s unyielding lips right after it leaves Robbe’s, making Sander pull him even closer.

Eventually, they have to stop, getting dizzy from the lack of air. When their mouths do separate though it’s only for a centimeter and they keep panting in that small space between them, soon breaking out in quiet giggles.

“I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you too. Ever since that stupid meeting,” Robbe admits, feeling brave and like he’s floating on air, no confession scary enough right now. Sander looks very pleased with his words, and Robbe can feel the telltales of his regular confident smile coming back to his face under his lips when Sander pecks him softly.

Then, he draws back, regarding Robbe with eyes full of mischief.

“I only joined to meet you.”

That makes Robbe cock his brow in surprise and he searches his face for a lie or at least a joke, but he doesn’t find any. “You saw me before?”

There’s a pause and then Sander’s smile turns softer. “I saw you the first day of school.”

And, wow. He did not expect such a turn of events.

“You were sitting at a lunch table with your friends, deep in thought, looking so beautiful you took my breath away. It felt like I saw an angel.”

Blood floods Robbe’s cheek and he drops his eyes under Sander’s intense gaze, because he’s not used to such praise, or praise whatsoever. And then there’s Sander, looking at him like he’s something precious, like he hung the moon and stars, touching him so gently and kissing him so passionately and Robbe feels like passing out.

Sander must have sensed he was getting overwhelmed because he chuckles quietly and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumb sweeping under his eye in a soothing motion as he leaves a few small kisses on his other cheek, melting Robbe in a pile of goo right there on the sidewalk, quiet night around them.

Once he pulls himself together, he can’t resist the tugging at the corners of his mouth and a full-blown smile blooms on his face that’s instantly matched by Sander’s own.

“You know, I don’t think I ever played spin the bottle before but I’d give it zero stars on booking.com,” he declares suddenly pulling a laugh out of Robbe. “I was so scared I’m gonna have to watch you kiss somebody else, phew!” He places a hand on his chest comically, turning on the dramatics. “My poor heart wouldn’t take it, Robin!”

And fuck, he’s so cute that Robbe can only laugh at this (his?) dork, fondly rolling eyes at his antics.

“Yeah, I didn’t want anybody to kiss you either. And it’s Robbe,” he adds with a long-suffering sigh, futilely, he’s sure, but it’s still worth it because Sander’s cheek in tongue expression lets him know the boy loves to rile him up and is not going to stop anytime soon.

Still, to wipe off the smug smile for the time being he pulls him back into a kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket and Sander doesn’t exactly protest such. The second kiss is slower, more thorough, but still mind blowing enough for Robbe to feel heat tugging at his stomach.

“Will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow? Or any other time you’re free? Please?” Sander whispers in the small space between them after they finally break apart, foreheads resting against each other and fireworks going on in Robbe’s brain. Despite them standing so close Robbe can see Sander’s face pretty clear, and he can see his hopeful but tentative expression as he waits for him to answer, eyes growing unsure with each second of silence.

Not wanting to keep him in suspense anymore, he gives his parted lips one more lingering kiss, too weak to resist them when they shine so prettily in the street light above them. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

#wtfock #og easter eggs because it's cute af #😌

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