#anyway idk man im just saying. have you guys read the ao3 piece about how yosuke is actually a classic love interest because you should | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

18 notes · View notes

iwillsithereandtrytocontribute · 4 years

Text

The Melanie King Conspiracy

Pairings: wtgfs (mentioned/background)

Warnings: Blinding yourself (mentioned)

Spoilers up to the end of Season 4

Masterlist Ao3

This is my first fic for the tma fandom and first time writing in this style please cut me some slack. All spelling and grammatical errors (or most of them anyway) are on purpose to mimic a real group chat. Let’s hope I haven’t messed up the timeline to horribly :)

June 13, 2017

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys guys guys. you know how i was talking about that show Ghost Hunt U.K?

ijustworkhear: again with this? what about it

whathappenedtomelanieking: well, it went all weird like a year ago right? after that episode at the Cambridge Military Hospital. They all left one by one except for Melanie and then she went… crazy i guess. Freaked out, tryd to say she saw a ghost

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: its a ghost show…

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeh but she got really into it.more than ever before and everyone kind of knew it was fake

ijustworkhear: like those unsolved guys

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah

whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway it sucked when Andy left but we had Melanie and that was fine

whathappenedtomelanieking: then she kept saying one of their camera people left then their sound until it was like melanie was the only one left

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: k… this matters why?

whathappenedtomelanieking: she got arrested

ijustworkhear: woah

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jkjhjkhkghsjhk what

whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr? She broke into a junk yard up in Sheffield, says she got stabbed by a ghost or smth

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 🙄

whathappenedtomelanieking: lol yeah. shes really gone off the deep end. idk i just feel bad

ijustworkhear: yeah

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so… that it? She’s in jail?

whathappenedtomelanieking: nah, they dropped the charges. she was actuallY in the hospital for a bit, hurt herself

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: breaking into a scrap yard at night… couldn’t be me

ijustworkhear: lol

January 24, 2018

placeholder: so…

imbeggingforausername: so…

imbeggingforausername: what’s up

whathappenedtomelanieking: 🙃

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: no we are not doing this shit again

imbeggingforausername: what is happening? Why’d you change your name?

whathappenedtomelanieking: Melanie’s back!!! (sort of)

imbeggingforausername: what

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: don’t ask

whathappenedtomelanieking: you ever heard of Ghost Hunk U.K.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway rude

imbeggingforausername: not really… i know it went downhill in like 2016 tho

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 😝

whathappenedtomelanieking: long story, ghosthunting show, melanie went off the rails and the grid for like a year (she was a host btw), and got arrested for breaking into a dump

imbeggingforausername: yikes

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so what new incredible details have you uncovered now? (@imbeggingforausername this happens like every couple months when Jay thinks they have some new revelation).

whathappenedtomelanieking: HOW DARe!

whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway i was stalking her twitter and she was like posting stuff about being in India and shit and get this. She got shot!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: let me guess. By a ghost

whathappenedtomelanieking: YES!!!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: fucking...

whathappenedtomelanieking: Not even the best part… she’s back in London and you’ll never guess where she’s working now.

ijustworkhear: where

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: ayyyy!!! Sam’s here! help me

ijustworkhear: <3

whathappenedtomelanieking: The Magnus Institute

ijustworkhear: k… cool

whathappenedtomelanieking: omg guys you don’t know what the Magnus INstitute is?

whathappenedtomelanieking: how are you my FRIENDS?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: *sigh* tell us

whathappenedtomelanieking: they collect supernatural statements and “look into them” sounds like a piece of baloney to me, but you gotta pay the bills somehow i guess

imbeggingforausername: thought you believed in the supernatural

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah, ghosts. The Magnus Institute pretends that there’s like evil books and stuff

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: and Melanie’s working there now? She has cracked

whathappenedtomelanieking: no kidding

ijustworkhear: maybe its for the best

imbeggingforausername: might be good for her

ijustworkhear: jinx!

imbeggingforausername: <3 i don’t know how to tell you this, but no

February 3, 2018

imbeggingforausername: @whathappenedtomelanieking

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been summoned

imbeggingforausername: You see what’s been up with Melanie King lately?

whathappenedtomelanieking: no… what’s going on?

imbeggingforausername: all these vagueposts about how much she wants to kill her boss, which like, mood but im worried shes serious

whathappenedtomelanieking: do tell

imbeggingforausername: she’s like “my boss is trapping me and all these people into working at the archives”

whathappenedtomelanieking: dude… really?

imbeggingforausername: really

imbeggingforausername: i thought it was funny at first, but… you know… you can only read so many posts about what eldritch horrors someone thinks is attacking them before you start to worry.

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been looking into the institute since Melanie joined, i was curios

whathappenedtomelanieking: their last head archivist was found in the tunnels beneath the institute shot three times and their latest archivist is on the run from the police for beating an old man to death with a pipe and probablt killing one of his assistants

imbeggingforausername: wtf

whathappenedtomelanieking: and they got this real bad worm infestation a while back, apparently it freaked one of them out so bad they lived in the archives for like 6 months

imbeggingforausername: How do you know this?

whathappenedtomelanieking: talked to the receptionist, her name’s Rosie, she’s very nice

whathappenedtomelanieking: she’s seen some weird shit. I think i might have seen Melanie but i didn’t talk to her

imbeggingforausername: I forget you live in London, any other weird things?

whathappenedtomelanie: don’t know how much is real, but yeah.

whathappenedtomelanieking: she thinks some lady can control worms, there was this weird tall guy in Jon (that’s the archivist guy)’s office at one point and she never saw him leave (same with the lady giving Jon a statement),

whathappenedtomelanieking: oh and Rosie didn’t tell me this one, but the head of the institute, can’t remember his name, came out of his office at one point and just stared at me

imbeggingforausername: creepy

whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr?

whathappenedtomelanieking: i left like right after that. I did ask if i could look in the archives, but no, you need some kind of degree or something

imbeggingforausername: a degree???? Are they serious???

whathappenedtomelanieking: they looked it, 🤷 i wasn’t going to push my luck, the old guy really freaked me out. It was like he looking into me

imbeggingforausername: what kind of degree would you even need??

imbeggingforausername: ooh weird

whathappenedtomelanieking: just saying, don’t think I’ll be going back for a while

imbeggingforausername: probably smart

October 25, 2018

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: @whathappenedtomelanieking i’m blaming you for getting me interested in this… but all your talking and theorizing about the Magnus Institute has gotten me interested

whathappenedtomelanieking: ooh, in listening

whathappenedtomelanieking: *I’m

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: I went up and talked to Rosie too (you were right she is v. nice) the head of the institute got arrested and the archivist is in a coma

whathappenedtomelanieking: jesus, i feel like we’re uncovering a conspiracy just by being worried about an entertainer we enjoy… Maybe we should leave this alone?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: i’m kind of getting that too

whathappenedtomelanieking: what about melanie tho?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: idk, I asked Rosie about her and she just glanced around and then shook her head

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been asking around on some forums and stuff, even emailed one of her old cameramen seems no one’s heard from her in upwards of a year and she’s barely been seen outside the institute

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: um…

whathappenedtomelanieking: genuinely getting worried, but… it’s her life i guess? idk...

October 20, 2019

whathappenedtomelanieking: WE WERE NOT WORRIED ENOUGH ABOUT MELANIE!!!!!!

ijustworkhear: what happened???

imbeggingforausername: wtf

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: did she kill someone or smth

whathappenedtomelanieking: I WAS JUST LISTENING TO WHAT THE GHOST AND GEORIGE MENTIONED MELANIE OFFHAND. I KNOW THEY HANG OUT SOMETIMES SO I CHECKED GEORGIE’S INSTAGRAM AND MELANIE WAS IN ONE OF THE PICTURES (they’re a couple btw, v. cute) SHE WAS BLIND!!!! LIKE PROPERLY!! IT LOOKED LIKE SHE’D BEEN STABBED IN BOTH EYES!!!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jesus wtf

ijustworkhear: omg, she’s okay though

imbeggingforausername: damn…

whathappenedtomelanieking: i mean… she’s blind… probably not having a great time, but she looks happy

imbeggingforausername: 🤷 it’s not like she died

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’m not saying its bad she’s blind Erin, just that i’m worried about how it happened.

whathappenedtomelanieking: she was working at that fucking weird institute (you know, ever since i went there i have this feeling like i’m being watched constantly)

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: yikes

October 31, 2019

1:35 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys i think something happened…

1:40 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys?

whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @ijustworkhear @imbeggingforausername

2:01 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: please answer me i’m freaking out

whathappenedtomelanieking: i can’t find anyone

whathappenedtomelanieking: please

whathappenedtomelanieking: mt hasds arw shaking so bd i can;t type

whathappenedtomelanieking: there;s noone herre

whathappenedtomelanieking: please

2:23 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

3:56 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

4:47 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

Any similarities to actual usernames weren’t intentional (although I am really proud of “I’m only homo in the sapien way”).

@whathappenedtomelanieking was lost in the Lonely in the Eyepocalypse in case I didn’t make that clear enough.

Feel free to ask about my writing or ask to be added to my taglist. Stay safe :)

#tma #the magnus archives #melanie king #rosie tma #jasper writes

10 notes · View notes

chimchimchoo · 6 years

Text

Fly Me to the Moon :: Ch 7

Genre: Pure fluff crack

Word Count: 1,369

Pair: Yoongi x Jimin

Collaborated with @tayvengeance

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“CHEER UP THIS SAD, EMO BOY!”

02-222-3333

Jimin stared at the note on the bathroom wall for a solid 5 minutes before he pulled out his phone and typed in the number.

authors note: we do not own any of the pictures, for better formatting so it’s more comfortable to read, check it out on AO3! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944508/chapters/36107328 Twitters: Tae’s Sujin’s <3 - Tae & sujin

Chat With Mochi_Moves:

2016.02.12

15:30

Mochi_Moves:

hey

sugar lips

SUGA:

hey baby boy

do you even like it when I call you that?

I’ve never asked.

Mochi_Moves:

You can call me anything you like

but if you ever call me butterbean

i swear we’re ending this right here and now

SUGA:

why the fuck would I call you butterbean

what the fuck does that even mean?

butter doesn’t come from beans.

Mochi_Moves:

i’ve heard couples say it

(believe it or not)

i think i gagged a couple of times

SUGA:

not this fucking couple.

we’re classy.

I just send you one of these

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHIKf0f9E40

and I 100% know I got u.

Mochi_Moves:

and this is why i love you

my oojy coojy woojy moojy poo-poo

SUGA:

WHAT IN FUCK.

Mochi_Moves:

what’s wrong honey bunny buckles?

SUGA:

hi I don’t appreciate this name experimentation

you got going on

keep sugar lips

pls

im begging u

Mochi_Moves:

sure thing sugar lips

it suits you best anyhow

SUGA:

wow I love you

:) :) :) :)

so Valentines day is a shit fest holiday but it’s coming up

in like 2 days, and we’re dating.

So like were you expecting anything that day?

Mochi_Movies:

well

i mean

i was thinking of spending valentines day

as a pre-date

for our 3 month anniversary c:

it’s back to back

and i’m planning the big night this time

SUGA:

whatcha planning, love?

Mochi_Moves:

i’ll tell you when the day gets closer

it’s still in the works

SUGA:

Well

if you want

on valentines

we could get a hotel room

and spend the day alone together

Mochi_Moves:

should i

should i bring a polaroid camera?

SUGA:

;)

we might use it

Mochi_Moves:

alright, i’ll bring it c;

SUGA:

This is me on my way to make a reservation at the

Lotte hotel around here

Mochi_Moves:

wow, look at my man

i love him so much???

be careful with those good looks

someone can easily snatch you away

SUGA:

But how can someone snatch my heart

when you already have it

Mochi_Moves:

what country did i save in my past life to get myself a man like this

SUGA:

Weren’t you Mother Teresa?

Joan of Arc?

Gandhi?

any of those lives could have landed you me in this one

;)

Mochi_Moves:

don’T MAKE ME CRY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCE ROOM MIN YOONGI

SUGA:

I LOVE YOU

Mochi_Moves:

you’re lucky everyone else is grabbing food rn

SUGA:

oh you look delicious

wow

Mochi_Moves:

I know

i’m a full course meal that gets served at the queen’s palace

made by the most skilled italian chefs

SUGA:

damn right you are

wow

and I get you all to myself.

I’m spoiled rotten

how did I deserve such a royal meal?

Mochi_Moves:

that’s just what we do

spoil each other rotten

i love it c:

SUGA:

Baby all I want to do is spoil you rotten

What do you want? I’ll get you anything you want

for valentines day

Mochi_Moves:

actually, i don’t really want anything

i already have everything i want

as disgustingly cliche as that sounds

it’s 100% true

SUGA:

well then i guess the only package you get to unwrap is mine

;)

Mochi_Moves:

SUGA:

OH MY GOD

I WAS JUST JOKING

Mochi_Moves:

but

i wasn’t

SUGA:

………

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHIKf0f9E40

Mochi_Moves:

start running to that hotel sugar lips

SUGA:

tsk tsk, too impatient, Jiminnie.

gotta build up to the moment.

Mochi_Moves:

ahh

ill try

SUGA:

come with me to book this fucking room

…

and let me kiss you~

Mochi_Moves:

hmm

i guess the dance team can live without me for a few hours

give me 10 minutes

SUGA:

Who said I’d let you go back to dance practice

;)

Mochi_Moves:

well by all means

i’m calling out sick

hoseok hyung can deal

and make that 5 minutes

c :

SUGA:

You’re so damn easy to please

i love it

yes

come to your favourite hyung~

Mochi_Moves:

actually make that 10 minutes

i need a coffee

wouldnt want me to fall asleep on you now would you?

can i grab anything for my sugar lips?

SUGA:

you know what I like :)

Mochi_Moves:

yes i know i know you’d like me

but what about something to /drink/

SUGA:

you can grab me a glass

because you’re the hydrating drink of water

that I’ve been craving all day

;)

Mochi_Moves:

oh my god

tall black coffee it is

and probably a condom

if that lust doesnt chill

SUGA:

I was gonna save the sex for valentines

but if you really want

;) ;) ;) ;)

Mochi_Moves:

the condoms gonna be on hold

its gotta be special like you said

it can wait c:

SUGA:

good.

also

should there be music?

is there a song you wanna have sex to?

have you ever thought about this Jimin?

Mochi_Moves:

music??

but dont people always say that the voices alone

are music to their ears??

or was that just straight up poetic

SUGA:

I mean

in my dreams

when you moan my name

it puts fucking Bach to shame

Mochi_Moves:

oh my gOD

SUGA:

So is that a no on the music?

Mochi_Moves:

what about a piece with your piano?

id love nothing more than something of yours

what about

first love?

SUGA:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyHaRCMbx6A

what about this piece Namjoon filmed for class once

It’s called I Need U

Mochi_Moves:

wow

look at my beautiful man playing a beautiful song

i love it

its perfect

SUGA:

HAVE I NOT SHOWN YOU THIS VIDEO?

Mochi_Moves:

NO CLEARLY NOT

WHAT KIND OF BOYFRIEND ARE YOU

SUGA:

We filmed it that one day I had re-bleached my hair

before I dyed it silver

Because he said I looked like all innocent in all white

but

I Need U

yeah

I kinda wrote it

with you in mind

there’s no lyrics or anything

but the song is about idk

i guess how you help me live my best life?

Not to sound emo or anything

but

It’s like I need you because my crippling depression and

anxiety will take hold of me and you kinda ground me?

Idk I put a lot of emotional weight on you.

I’m sorry

but I’ve never been able to love like this before.

So yeah, another song for you.

How many songs have I made for you now?

Mochi_Moves:

Min Yoongi

never apologize for writing songs

if it expresses yourself better

and makes you happier

in fact

keep writing more

write as many as your heart desires

because shamelessly

i love it when you write songs about me

SUGA:

Jiminnie

i’ll write you an album

20 songs

all 5 minutes long

2 albums

fuck, as many as it takes

I’ll write you songs until I physically can’t write anymore

Mochi_Moves:

for every song you write

i’ll create a choreography for it

just for you

SUGA:

Power couple.

that’s us.

Mochi_Moves:

just your typical disgustingly cute and Gay™ couple

SUGA:

so uh…

not to break up this charming conversation

because it is

and i love you

but

how’s that coffee coming along?

Mochi_Moves:

its tall (unlike you)

and hot

SUGA:

*and hot (like you)

I think that’s what you meant

Mochi_Moves:

yes of course

i’d figure you knew

so i didn’t need to remind you

the tall fact

however

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SUGA:

yah

you’re the same fuckin height

shut your beautiful mouth

Mochi_Moves:

dont tell me how to live my life

SUGA:

It’s been like 11 minutes

where is my chim chim

I need u baby

and that coffee

but mostly you

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chim Cherrie

Yoongi’s as lucky as lucky can beeeee

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chim Cheroo

I don’t know the rest of the song

but I sure do love you~

Mochi_Moves:

sorry

i ran into kookie on the way

did you just sing mary poppins??

anyway where are you

im at the hotel

but i cant find you

theres just a bunch of tall business men here

and one short guy

oh wait

there you are!

SUGA:

fuck you

I’m inside

Mochi_Moves:

3 notes · View notes

dabiapologist · 7 years

Text

[MY HERO ACADEMIA FANFICTION]: It Surrounds You

Written for Kinktober 2017 Day #1

Prompt: Scent Kink/ Olfactophilia

Rating: E/NSFW

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Shigadabi, Shigaraki Tomura/Dabi

Tags: Day 1: aphrodisiacs/olfactophilia, Im not sure which this falls under cause it's a little of both?? idk??it's kind of a loosely-based concept though handjobs, aphrodisiacs, olfactophilia, scent kink?? Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary:

It’s growing on him, that godforsaken smell.

He always knows when Dabi is nearby; his arrivals and departures are announced and preceded by the smell of something burning. It follows him around like a black cloud, a sinister smell that reminds Tomura of the incinerators at morgues or funeral pyres.

Dabi is a walking funeral pyre.

Read it on AO3

He had tried, sincerely, he had tried, not to take notice of them or anything that even remotely had to do with them. The small bar was suddenly a busier place than it had been, what with the arrival of the duo; the creepy high school girl who was always eyeing him like she’d slit his throat the second he let his guard down, and grin through it to boot, and the rude zombie guy whose real name he still didn’t know aside from a shoddy alias.

They were here, and he hated it.

Kurogiri was right; he did need them and their abilities to expand his organization. But that damn well didn’t mean he had to like it.

Or them.

Especially him.

He was a freak in every sense of the word. But admittedly, yeah, he was intrigued. Within the safety of his mind and his thoughts, Tomura could safely say that there was the slightest modicum of curiosity. After all, even in a world of super-powered people, it wasn’t every day you stumbled upon someone like Dabi, villain or otherwise.

“This is a bar, right? How’s about a drink?” Dabi drawls in that low, emotionless voice of his. Tomura clenches as Dabi pushes himself off the brick wall he had been leaning against and, shooting him a passive glance, not seeming to care if he minds or not, slides into the empty seat directly next to Tomura.

He didn’t have to sit there. There were five empty seats directly to his right that he could’ve parked his carcass on instead of next to him. But, Tomura quickly realizes, behind that seemingly emotionless facade, Dabi hides an irritatingly antagonistic personality.

Kurogiri slides over a glass of something dark and presumably strong by the smell of it.

“You seem like a bourbon-type.” Kurogiri says, and the shapeless void that is his face morphs into something that could almost be called a smile.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Dabi replies.

Tomura watches the exchange from behind the hand on his face. His eyes follow Dabi’s hand as it reaches toward the glass, follows it up to Dabi’s face, watches the Adam’s apple marred purple bob slightly as Dabi downs the liquor in one go.

Tomura caught himself wondering more than once what story lay behind the burnt, purpled skin, held together with surgical staples. And at this moment, he caught himself wondering just how it was that none of that liquor was seeping back out through the parts of Dabi’s chin and cheeks that were bound together.

It still irked him that Dabi’s very first words to him were that he looked gross. Had Dabi looked in a goddamn mirror lately? At least Tomura could say that he didn’t look like a walking corpse.

“Something on my face?”

Dabi turns to him in the stool; of course it was the stool that squeaked, and the sound makes Tomura’s eye twitch. Apparently noticing this, Dabi, for the first time since joining their little motley crew of evil, gives him a faint smirk. “You’ve been staring at me since I sat down. Am I not allowed to drink?”

“I don’t care what you do.”

“Oh?” Dabi intones idly as he fishes something out of his weird leather fanny pack. “It seems like you do.”

“You smell burnt. It’s disgusting.”

“Shigaraki Tomura!” Kurogiri all but shrieks, already set to intercept another fight. But Dabi doesn’t move. He eyes Tomura for a second before shaking his head and going back to what he was doing, laughing to himself. He brings a cigarette to his lips-- figures that the low-life had a box of cigarettes in his stupid pack-- and flicks it with his finger. It ignites with a dark flame at the end that quickly fades to a normal orange-yellow.

“I have a flame-type quirk, so it’s not that shocking.” A deep inhale. In the silence of the bar, Tomura can hear the faint sound of the cigarette paper singeing. It’s annoying. “Heh, and you had the nerve to say I’m the rude one.”

Dabi exhales thoughtfully, hooded blue eyes still focused on Tomura. “I’m amazed you can smell anything from behind that corpse hand you have stuck to your face.”

It takes everything Tomura has not to wrap his hand-- five fingers-- around that smug, crusty throat and disintegrate the man right then and there. But a firm but worried look from Kurogiri stops him from carrying through with the obvious intentions in his movements. Dabi notices it, too.

A crinkled note in an equally crinkled hand slides across the bar. “For the drink.” Dabi mutters, cigarette dangling from his lips. He leaves the room. But not before Tomura can catch another horrible whiff of burnt flesh and cheap cologne.

*****

It’s growing on him, that godforsaken smell.

Dabi is a walking funeral pyre.

The smell envelopes him, invades his nostrils long before Dabi makes his full presence known. He slinks into the bar, hands crammed in his pockets as usual, Toga bouncing and giggling at his heels, practically frothing at the mouth about someone’s blood or something. Tomura can’t be bothered to listen to her insanity, especially when Dabi, in that infuriatingly low-key way of his, shamelessly invades his personal space yet again by taking up the seat next to him at the bar. It’s not long before a bourbon is sitting in front of him and a cigarette is dangling from his lips.

The man smokes like a chimney, but that’s hardly the worst thing about him, so Tomura slides to the left a bit and remains silent.

The familiar smell of cigarette ash blends with Dabi’s natural smoky... musk, in his nose and Tomura gags noiselessly behind the hand covering his face.

He’s saying something at the moment, something about Yuuei’s security measures, but Tomura isn’t really listening. It’s unusually warm in the bar; he feels clammy and demands that Kurogiri turn the air down. Kurogiri eyes him strangely, but does it anyway.

He doesn’t really notice a change and it bugs him a lot.

*****

It always seems warmer here now. And it doesn’t take Tomura long to realize it’s because of Dabi.

The man runs hot; sitting next to him really is like sitting next to a human furnace, or something vaguely resembling a human, Tomura supposes. But it’s raining today and it’s cold in the bar, so Tomura doesn’t mind it as much.

“You don’t complain about my smell anymore.” Dabi says suddenly.

“Fuck off.”

Dabi turns to him. Smooth tanned skin and scarred purple run side by side, splitting his face into a Glasgow smile that only seems to grow more menacing when Dabi actually smiles, exposing teeth.

“No need to be so hostile, you know,” Dabi drawls around a lazy french inhale, “Just making an observation.”

The heat in the room only seems to grow as Dabi turns to face him fully in his seat. “You seem a little pent up, Shigaraki.” He says bluntly.

Tomura can feel his temper starting to rise. In the few short weeks since they’ve joined together, Dabi has made an art of igniting the metaphorical flame under Tomura’s bottom, bringing his temper to a nice, even simmer.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dabi’s expression remains annoyingly impassive. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

He does. Of course he does, he’s not stupid. And he’s certainly not that naive. Dabi’s expression still doesn’t change, but Tomura can see in his eyes that Dabi knows he’s lying. And he can see, in the way the corners of Dabi’s eyes crinkle and the hoods of his eyes drop, and in the way that faint smile curls into something in the realm of seductive, that Dabi has no qualms about humoring him.

“...I guess I’ll just spell it out for you then.”

The smell of smoke and charred flesh fills Tomura’s nose as Dabi leans in, and his heart skips in his chest when he feels Dabi’s warm breath puff in his hair and teeth tug at his earlobe from behind warmer than normal lips.

If it was warm before, the bar might as well be on fire now.

His face is burning, his ears are burning, his fingers are twitching. Tomura curls his hands into fists, quelling the urge to kill the other man.

“You...you piece of shit…” He hisses, hand inching towards Dabi, who slides back into his seat, seemingly unfazed by the creep of certain death looming over him in the form of a spidery, twitching hand.

The fact that Dabi clearly doesn’t love himself should’ve been readily obvious, but now, it all but bowls Tomura over the head. The nerve, the absolute fucking nerve.

Dabi calmly downs the rest of his drink before sliding the glass over to a speechless and awestruck Kurogiri, who had witnessed the entire exchange and subsequently the audacious --and frankly suicidal-- move, and wanders out of the bar without even glancing back. Toga bounds out after him, giddy and psychotic.

It’s not until the door to the bar closes that Tomura finally snaps back and releases a loud cry of pure rage before smashing the glass that Dabi had been drinking from against a wall and storming out of the room.

*****

Fuck.

Just like that, it became a fucking association.

It’s two days later and Tomura is sitting in front of his computer, quietly seething at this realization.

He scratches at his neck, growling. That bastard. That no-good, motherfucking bastard.

Tomura can’t even be around him now. When Dabi enters one room, Tomura swiftly and noisily exits. Sharing the same airspace with Dabi is already way too close of proximity now.

The smell, the stench, of the other man drives him up the wall. But it doesn’t drive him up the wall in a way that Tomura is okay with. Before, it disgusted him on a purely visceral level. Now it disgusts him for an entirely different reason. The smell of smoke and burning bodies wells up in his nose and his mind. His eyes drift shut as he fingers his earlobe, the sensation of Dabi’s teeth softly nipping at it still very fresh in his mind.

The thought of it brings an unfamiliar and unwelcome heat to his face and his neck and ears. His heart lubs out of rhythm in his chest. His cock twitches in his pants.

Tomura wants to kill the first person he sees. He really hopes the first person he sees is Dabi.

He scrolls past a news article; a random spectacle downtown with some small time villain and those damned Yuuei first years.

The smokey smell has not dissipated, and it’s really bothering him. Tomura remembers once, when All for One explained to him how powerful memories and associations based on smell can be, and if his master said it, obviously it must be true...

... but still.

His room smells like it’s on fucking fire now. And it's a problem, because, well... he doesn't hate that.

“Didn’t know you guys actually had WiFi in this dump.”

A pair of hands like burning coals smooth down the front of chest, slow and indolent, like a jungle cat stretching out for a nap. Dabi all but collapses onto him, chin resting on the crown of Tomura’s head as he wraps his arms around Tomura’s neck. Exactly the person he didn't want to see. He catches Dabi's reflection in the computer screen, it's one of very subtle amusement.

“Get the hell off of me.” He seethes, jerking around in Dabi’s unwelcome embrace. Dabi clucks his tongue, and another first since they’ve been forced to endure each other’s company: Dabi laughs.

“You’re avoiding me, Shigaraki.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Every time you see me, you run. Man, I didn’t think you’d spook so easy…” The amusement hanging in Dabi’s tone nearly sends Tomura into a rage. Somehow, miraculously, he fights the urge down by sitting on his fingers, making sure to keep his thumbs out so that the chair doesn’t disintegrate out from under him and make this already uncomfortable situation into an all out fiasco.

“I’m busy. Go away. Take the little crazy nymph with you and go patrol or something.”

Tomura can feel Dabi smile into his hair. The room suddenly feels twenty odd degrees hotter, and Tomura isn’t sure if it’s exclusively because Dabi’s body is resting solidly on his back. He can practically smell the heat coming off the other man in waves, and it makes his breathing hitch embarrassingly. He doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know that his whole face is pink, and in the privacy of his room, he doesn’t have his hand to shield his face from view. Or at least, what was the privacy of his room.

“She can function on her own, you know. Just because the old man brought us at the same time doesn’t mean we’re joined at the hip.”

"All the same, I'd like you get the hell out of here."

"Ah, I see. You're you still sore about what I said the other day."

Tomura growls, fingers itching to grab Dabi by the face and watch him crumble. But before he can respond, Dabi keeps talking, still draped over him like they're married or something. What the fuck.

"The fact that you're still this upset about it basically proves that it's accurate."

"I'm going to murder you."

"You can try. And regardless of whether you succeed or not, you're still only proving me right by attacking me."

Tomura spins in his seat, nearly knocking Dabi over onto the floor. "Why the hell do you even care?" He snaps.

Dabi calmly turns him back around, and, to Tomura's annoyance, puts himself right back where he was before, namely leaning against Tomura. "I don't, really." He says simply, "I just get bored, sometimes. And... well,"

Rough lips brush the back of his neck. Tomura tenses at the sensation. “To be perfectly honest," Another kiss behind his ear. “You kinda seem like you need it.”

Tomura jolts when he feels a hand dip between his legs and cup his crotch. He hadn’t even noticed Dabi’s hand move; it’s kind of hard to notice anything presently but the way Dabi is wrapped around him, teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, already tugging his half-hard cock out of his pants.

Frankly, Tomura has half a mind to elbow Dabi right in the face. But the thought fades the second Dabi’s palm squeezes over the head of his cock and he starts to pump it slowly. The crude staples running along Dabi’s palm make for a strange but pleasant sensation, one that Tomura quickly finds himself being unraveled by. Tomura swallows thickly, trying to fight down any noises that might escape him. Like hell he’d give Dabi the satisfaction. But the scent of the other man, like a smoldering ember, and the heat enveloping his body... it’s all Tomura can do not to come completely undone under Dabi’s ministrations.

He fears he might eventually grow fond of it, at this rate.

They’re cheek to cheek now as Dabi leans his head into the crook of Tomura’s neck to get a better a view. In the corner of his eye, Tomura catches Dabi’s teeth snag his scarred bottom lip, and the breathy little hiss of pleasure he lets out as he pumps his hand faster does not go unnoticed, either.

Dabi’s good at this. Way better than Tomura would’ve ever given him credit for, given their disastrous introduction and general disdain for one another. His hand moves with the confidence of experience; much different than Tomura’s clumsy attempts at masturbating himself when the urge arises, while simultaneously trying not to accidentally disintegrate himself cock first. In that respect, he’s secretly grateful that Dabi noticed his… needs. All five fingers are definitely integral to achieving the desired result, and it’s definitely better when someone else does it for you.

It’s not long before Dabi has him on a steady but slowly climbing gradient. Down the hall, he can hear Kurogiri talking with the girl with blood and the knives. They’re loud enough that they drown out Tomura’s broken gasps and moans that seem to echo in the small room.

Through it all, Dabi doesn’t say a word. Even when Tomura groans his name, coming in fast, heavy spurts into his hand and the computer desk, the other man is oddly silent. It’s not until Tomura is coming down from the high of his climax and is tucking himself back in that Dabi finally talks.

“You sound cute when you come.” He says casually, wiping his hand off.

"Shut up." Tomura mutters tersely as he stands on shaky legs. He grabs a hold of the desk for support. Dabi watches him, amused.

"You okay there?"

"Shut up." He repeats, but there's no real bite to it this time around. "...We should keep this between us."

"Naturally."

"I'll see you in there. We have plans to discuss."

"Fine. See ya." Dabi turns to leave, hands crammed in his shirt pockets. The scent of smoke and ash leaves with him, and the second he's gone Tomura already misses it.

#Shigaraki #Dabi #shigadabi #BNHA fic #kinktober2017 #fanfiction meme

26 notes · View notes

antiiva · 6 years

Text

tagged by @aizawashoutah, @shitabukenjirou, and @foxyena !! thank u guys so much~

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

hajime = haji, iwaizumi = iwa, haji + iwa = hajiiwa~ i love my mans but not many people understand my username

(the rest will go under the cut!)

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos)

huh, well

FMK technically has the most hits and kudos (something i am a little disgruntled about, seeing as it was not a fic i worked very hard on), only fools has the most comments, kaminari is a schemer has the most bookmarks, and of fountains and flowers has the most subscriptions so idk what to tell you. i wish ofaf had more recognition bcos i’ve worked hard on it rip

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

it’s kuroo!! and i just chose it bc i Love him and it was an icon i made that i sorta liked so

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

yes and i love them all!! seeing names that consistently pop up in my kudos/comments section really warms my heart <33 i’ve made good friends that way tbh

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

uhh there are many that i like to go back and read, mainly by my fav authors that i’m subscribed to

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

bookmarked: 53 subscribed: honestly, i... don’t really subscribe to works? i’m subscribed to 8 authors tho

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

oooh, probably... medieval aus or domestic magic aus? and slice of life

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Subscriptions: 80 (rip, i didn’t know if u meant user subs or work subs so i combined and it’s still a tiny number) Bookmarked: 203

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

umm... i don’t think so?

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

finishing current projects before taking on new ones, avoiding burnout, the usual

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

well i’ll go based on haikyuu since those works take up the majority-- iwaoi is set firmly in first place based on number of works followed by bokuroo, both of which are fairly popular so i’d say that i lean more toward the bigger ships but i also have works for kurooiwa, iwaaka, tengoshi, etc

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

22! that number fluctuates a ton because i’m very impulsive and if a fic doesn’t receive the recognition i feel it deserves/i no longer like it/etc i take it down

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

that i have yet to publish? too many.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

i normally keep them in my head, unless i think they’ll turn into something bigger and then i’ll jot them down!

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

not yeeet~ @frenchibi have plans to tho. i have tried to co-author in the past but it mever worked out

16. How did you discover AO3?

when i graduated from using wattpad,, fun fact, there is so much smut on there that i legitimately thought ao3 was just used to write porn. i was both horrified and confused

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

lol

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

no...? this question assumes that i would be Popular (honestly do fanfic writers even have “fandom names” for their readers?? im)

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

not really, no. i stated writing fanfics when i was really young on my own, unprompted, and i’ve met other authors through that medium that have helped me?

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

interact with other writers! i know it seems daunting, but leave comments, go to spaces where you will find other writers, participate in events-- there are few feelings more satisfying than seeing familiar names pop up, either in your notifications or in a group you’re in. most of the time, they’re all very kind and you won’t regret letting them into your life!

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

i plot out almost always, though this sort of bites me in the ass. it bores me when i’m writing to already “know” what’s going to happen and that’s why i lose steam. it’s weird

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

sort of. i write a lot of angst and i’ve gotten quite a few “fuck you author” comments-- most of the time they’re paired with “for making me feel these feelings” or “for writing something so sad” or some shit but i don’t appreciate that bc, like, fuck you too? i’m sorry that you felt the need to cuss me out?? i tag pretty liberally and if you felt that you couldn’t handle the topic i was writing about then you shouldn’t have clicked

unless it’s, like-- a friend or regular going “fffuCK YOU AHHH” which HAS happened and makes me snicker lmao

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

huh. i’m trying to become more proficient in the Big Three (smut, angst, and fluff) and thus far i’ve got one of three down p good. but specific scenes i have trouble writing would have to be scenes in which i have zero experience and pretty much have to improvise-- it helps me grow as a writer, ig, but it’s just frustrating

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

the rest of the writers’ inktober prompts

a fic wars piece with @frenchibi

a post breakup iwaoi

of fountains and flowers final chapter

a handful of voltron fics, 4 of them sheith

alien!iwaizumi

maaaany half-abandoned drafts

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

YES AND IT IS TERRIBLE SOMEONE STOP ME

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

nah. motivation is fickle and i don’t want to make writing a chore. writer’s inktober was hard enough (it’s december and i am still not done :,)

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

considering i started on wattpad, yes lmao. i’d like to think that i have since i’ve been on ao3 but hahjajhjkh

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

i reeeeally liked writing a bit of magic is key and three’s a crowd because they were both humorous domestic magic aus~ but i’ve liked most things i’ve written tbh. also, obviously, of fountains and flowers.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

that i’ve posted? i honestly don’t know. maybe you can be so stupid sometimes because i was just starting to write iwaoi and i now hate the way i portrayed them, not to mention that this dumb little fic has more kudos than my recent stuff and i just *clenches fist* don’t think it deserves that

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

not sure. maybe i’ll have ofaf finished by then hahah,, but really i don’t know. writing is a tool but fanfic writing is just a hobby

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

i’m pretty good at writing emotionally charged situations. also dialogue, i find banter or long back-and-forth conversations fairly easy

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

transitions, justification of characters’ actions. the hardest thing writing-related would be fighting through envy and feelings of inadequacy but i experience the former plenty anyway rip

33. Why do you write?

i write because i enjoy it-- i love creating my own worlds, interacting with other writers, living vicariously through my characters

well, that was fun! i’ll tag @frenchibi, @astersandstuffs, @minyardxva, @josai

#i would tag more but i am Lazy #and i have a billion tags to catch up on #tagged #thank u three btw!

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scintillating-galaxias · 7 years

Text

Opposites, Chapter 2

im not sure if i should tag this too? since the first part has everything tagged?… maybe its fine idk but anyways!! chapter two of my grimmons fic, i hope you guys enjoy!!

(read it here on ao3)

1 / 2

A few days pass. Simmons is being weird again. He glances to Grif more often than not when he’s talking, says certain words with more emphasis, and again with the physical contact! He swears he’s been touched on the shoulder, or his back, or his arm more this past week than his entire lifetime. He thought Simmons wasn’t a huge fan of the whole touching thing!

He glances slyly at Simmons, who’s reassembling a rifle. His tongue peeks out from between his lips like it always does when he’s focused. When was the last time the guy has a hug? Not a ‘thank God you’re alive’ embrace of pure fear and desperation, just a simple, totally platonic, hug?

When was the last time Grif had had one?

The first one that comes to mind is Kai holding onto him as tight as her small arms could when he was leaving. But that was over a decade ago. It couldn’t have been that long since then. Could it? No. Maybe? No, no, that couldn’t be right, he knows that’s not right—

“Penny for your thoughts?” Simmons’ voice breaks him out of his musings.

“Make it a dollar and you have a deal.” Simmons rolls his eyes and fishes out a piece of chewing gum from somewhere in his armor.

“A piece of really old gum for your thoughts?” he rephrases in a monotone. Grif takes the gum and unwraps it thoughtfully.

“Not much. Just thinkin’ about Kai.” Grif pops the gum in his mouth and tilts his head a little. “We should go get her soon. No, scratch that, we are gonna go get her soon. And then we’re going right the fuck home. No more of this totally bullshit war, or wars, or whatever the hell is going on anymore.”

Simmons is quiet for a moment. “Is that—” he coughs and clears throat. He tries again. “That’s what you really want?”

“Hell yeah! Why the fuck wouldn’t I want to go home? That’s way better than what we’ve been doing, which is basically travel through a void for a bit, find some big rock with issues, move on after we fix said issue, find a cooler, bigger rock with more problems. Except for this time, it has snow! Wow! Oh, and we might die again. Whoop-dee-fuckin’-do.”

The conversation lulls a bit. Grif carefully retightens a screw in his own gun. Not too tight, the firing mechanisms might go wrong, not too loose, the recoil might be off in the field. At least, that’s what he thinks it is. He really doesn’t pay attention to these things. If it works, it works, and if it blows up in his face, well, he’s wearing armor that probably costs enough to bring a small country out of debt. It should work out fine.

“Just you guys?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Simmons says quickly. He turns back to his gun. Grif looks at him for a moment longer before he shrugs and goes back to putting his own weapon together.

During lunch, Tucker approaches him. He sits down across from him and stares until Grif looks up. He has his hands laced and he leans forward on the table like some business man trying to make a deal. Grif cocks an eyebrow. Tucker clears his throat.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he tells Grif.

“Hello to you too, asshole.”

“Dude! Just fucking— It’s not hard to figure out!” Tucker throws arms up, then drags a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Christ, it’s embarrassing watching you two moon over each other! Like, holy hell, you aren’t high school teenagers! You could get shot tomorrow, and then we have to deal with Simmons crying over your dumb ass! Get your shit together!”

“Yeah well, maybe,” Grif says irritatedly, “you wouldn’t be so 'embarrassed’ about us if you guys fucked off and let us deal with it ourselves.” And he goes back to ignoring him. Man, these hash browns were just outstanding today. They actually had a little flavor to them.

“You aren’t going deal with it though! You’re just gonna keep walking away like you do with everything else!”

“What do you think of the broccoli today? I personally think a little more butter could have been used. It’s a little dry.”

“Oh my God,” Tucker groans, dragging out each word. He abruptly stands up and leaves, apparently too done with Grif to survive this conversation.

Good. He needed a nap anyway.

In the safety of his room, he thinks. He ponders and wonders and dwells on every little thing that’s happened lately.

First, his own depressive thought session that was basically just him pining. Which was just pathetic. He didn’t want to think about that.

Second, there was Simmons getting all touchy and smiley and making Grif feel warm all the time. Stupid Simmons being cute. Fuck that guy.

Then it was the Doorway Incident he’s shoved into the dark corner of his brain. Then there were those godforsaken notes that he should really take care of soon. One thing Tucker had said stuck with him; he might not have tomorrow to do this. He didn’t have the luxury to have all the time in the world to wait until the perfect moment like some people did.

Grif props his head up on one hand. The other toys with the drawstring of his sweatpants. Listen to Caboose and opposites were his hints. Opposites and spies? Clothes? Spy clothes, no, codes. Opposites and codes.

Grif gasps and nearly falls out of his bed in his haste to turn the light on. He trips ungracefully over a stray gauntlet, but he still reaches the wall and slaps it until he manages to find the switch.

He pats himself down before lunging for his armor. Fuck, where did they go! What was he wearing last? His hoodie? Grif leans down and swipes it up, rips the notes out of the front pocket, and throws himself at his desk.

“No way,” he mutters. “There’s just— No.”

You were. You were and… I am? That’s the first thing Grif can think of, so he reaches over to his datapad and writes it down. Were 'were’ and 'am’ opposites? Well, if they weren’t, they were for the time being.

Grif shakes his head. He knows how he works. He just had to get it out, then he could go and fix it later. Not like Simmons, who edited as he went along. No, now wasn’t the time to think about Simmons. Except, technically, he was right now just by dealing with these notes. If he was indirectly thinking about Simmons, would it count?

He furiously shakes his head again. “Focus,” he mutters. He thumbs the pen imprint on the back of one of the notes.

You were hopefully out hate without i.

“I am… Hopelessly? Hopeless? That’s dark, Simmons,” Grif muses. “Okay, Grif. Start talking.” He sighs. Stupid brain going off on unimportant topics. Grif clears his throat and taps the papers into a straight line.

“So,” he begins. “'I am hopelessly, in… Love? Love. With. You.’ Okay.” He picks up his datapad and writes it down. Well. He’s got the first part figured out. He could go ahead and change—

Grif’s thoughts catch up with his eyes. His brain screeches to a halt. Then it trips and falls down the stairs, where it lays there staring at a cloudless sky in shock. The low roar of blood rushing to his ears fills the silence.

He reads the words again. And again. And a third time.

“No way.” Grif leans back in his chair and runs his hands through his hair. “I— I got something wrong, didn’t I? It’s probably— no.” He makes a weird noise that could count as a giggle, but it’s so strained it sounds hysterical. “Haha! Real funny, Simmons! Good one!” he calls out. “You— You got me, you can stop… Hiding…”

Simmons does not materialize from the walls, or burst out of his tiny closet, or appear in the doorway, roaring with laughter and clutching his stomach.

Grif reads the words again.

“What. What?!” He stands up. Paces around the room. Falls back onto his bed. Gets up, reads the sentence again.

The universe hasn’t exactly been kind to him in the past. What made it change its mind now? He has to be dreaming. He’s had scary realistic dreams before. This wouldn’t be anything new. Grif pinches himself on the wrist, hard. Nothing happens except now his wrist stings a bit. He tries his ribs and his cheeks too, but there is still no sudden reveal of a dark closet or the inside of his helmet.

Grif makes a very embarrassing, very high-pitched sound. His face splits into a wide smile that reduces his vision to slits.

“'I am hopelessly in love with you.’ Oh, my God. Oh. My. God!” The feeling in his chest is too much for him, so he stands up, walks in quick, tight circles for a moment. He barely registers his steps because he swears he’s floating, drifting just above the clouds like he does in a dream.

There is an odd feeling he’s forgetting to do something. Nothing with the notes themselves. Simmons. He had to find Simmons.

Grif stands up and charges out of his room so fast he skids into the opposite wall. There, he takes a moment to collect himself.

What does he even say? 'I’m in love with you too’? No, that’s stupid. Maybe go a little slower, maybe hug him, or kiss his face, or something. No, what if Simmons wanted to go even slower than that? Could Grif hold his hand while watching a movie? That’s so cliché and corny, Simmons would love it, but what if he didn’t? Fuck! He doesn’t know what to do besides panic!

Before he sends himself into a downward spiral, he pushes off of the wall and bursts into Simmons’ room. Simmons himself is sitting on the edge of on his bed, capping and uncapping his calligraphy pen. He stands up quickly as Grif braces himself against the doorway

“What’s wro—”

“Did you mean it?” Simmons blinks.

“What do you mean?”

“The notes, are they real? Did you mean it, Simmons?” He hates the vulnerability is his voice, but he has to make sure, he has to be positive this wasn’t a sick, cruel joke. “Do you actually…?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do, dumbass!” Grif’s mind goes blank for a second. His lips move on their own accord.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes?” He doesn’t look as embarrassed as Grif initially thought he would be.

“You’re serious.” Grif can feel the grin coming back. Something in his chest swells.

“Yes, Grif, oh my God!” And there it is, that red flush on his cheeks. It makes his freckles stand out more, his green eye just a little bit brighter. It’s a nice look on him in Grif’s professional opinion.

“Ho-ly shit.” Grif crosses the room in quick, short strides, and holds Simmons’ face in his hands. The pen drops to the floor. “You’re real. This is—” Grif breaks off in nervous laughter. The butterflies in his stomach feel more like a school of fish by the way it flips when Simmons smiles. It’s a little squashed by the way Grif is cupping his cheeks, but it’s a nice smile nonetheless. “Wow.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other in a mix of awe and shock. Simmons suddenly starts chuckling. His head falls onto Grif’s shoulder and wraps his long arms around his torso. “You’re really fucking thick headed sometimes, you know that?”

“Excuse me, sometimes? You should know me better by now. It’s all or nothing.” Grif’s brows furrow. “Hey, that reminds me, why did you go straight for… You know.” The words get stuck, even though he doesn’t reason for them to be anymore. “I— I’m in love with you? And not like, 'Hey, wanna go out?’ Not that I’m complaining, but still.” It felt so strange but so natural to say it out loud. To Simmons. Not a mirror, or a rock, or his hand. To Simmons.

“I— Hmm.” Simmons’ mouth twists in thought. Grif waits impatiently, but he can’t push anything right now, so he stays quiet. “I think… I was scared we wouldn’t have time for that stuff.”

“Dude, we spend so much time just sitting here. It’s always the Blues getting into shit.”

“Shut up, Grif, I’m trying to get this right.” He takes Grif’s hand in his robotic one, idly rubbing his thumb on Grif’s palm. “Anyways. We're— We’re always getting shot at, getting injured, and I was terrified that something would happen to you before I got the chance to say anything. One of us could die tomorrow and I didn’t want to live with that. Or die with that, I don’t know.

And it’s been about six years since I felt— Felt… Fuck it, liked you, and that’s a lot of time to have a 'crush’ on someone and I decided that it wasn’t the correct term anymore. And then more time passed, and uh. I realized about two years ago that I didn’t 'like’ you anymore. Not like that, I like you! A lot! I just. Yeah,” he finishes lamely. He bites his lip a bit as he looks apprehensively at Grif.

Grif knows his mouth has fallen open again. It takes him a few tries to get his words out. “I… I didn’t know you, um. You know.”

“Yeah, I know you didn’t know.”

Grif rolls his eyes. “Dude, you’re still really fucking cheesy for passing on that cornball message through cryptic notes.”

“Oh, like you could do any better!” Simmons drops his hand and pushes at him, but there’s no real force behind it. “You just keep referring to this as 'that’!”

“Is that a challenge?” Grifs grin gets bigger. “Hey. Hey, Simmons. Guess what.”

Simmons sighs. “What?”

“I love you.” Simmons instantly turn bright red and starts babbling nonsense. Grif takes that as a sign to keep going. “In fact, I am super in love with you. You—”

“Grif!” Simmons groans and he keeps slapping his hands at Grif’s chest, but that pleased smile betrays him. “Grif, stop it, oh my God—”

“You are my anchor to this wretched life. My cinnamon bun. My starlight on the darkest nights.”

Simmons seems torn between laughing and being annoyed. He ends up making a weird beeping sound that Grif will have to make fun of later because watching Simmons get all flustered was way more entertaining. “And since I love you so much—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it!”

Grif holds him at arm’s length and puts on his best puppy face, with a pouty lip and everything. “Aw, but Simmons, my dearest, I was going to ask if you wanted to see a movie later! But I’ll have to find something else now.” He puts a wrist to his forehead. “Tragedy! My hard work and great efforts for the love of my life, ruined by the very same person! Oh, the irony!”

Simmons eyes him suspiciously. Then his brow shoots up to his hairline. “You were being serious?”

Grif drops his wrist back to his side. “Nah, not really. I don’t even know if this place even has a decent sized wall to project something on.”

“Oh,” Simmons says quietly. His shoulders slump a bit.

Grif frowns. “Wait, about the movie thing or the other thing, or the other other thing?”

“Er… All of them?” Simmons says uncertainly.

“Oh.” Oh. “Yeah, I’m, um, down for. That. I guess. I mean, sure, yeah, let’s do that. The movie. With just us.” There’s a pregnant pause. “And the other thing, yeah, kind of serious about that too.”

Simmons looks like he’s trying not to look too amused, but the relief is evident. “And that whole 'super in love’ spiel?”

“That too.”

That’s when Simmons leans down and kisses him. Not so hard it makes him dizzy, or so soft he’s chasing for more. It’s more careful if anything. As if to say, is this okay? And it’s so much more than just 'okay’, Grif can’t think of a word for it. A lump sticks in his throat, stealing away his next breath. He gasps lightly, and Simmons breaks away.

“So,” Simmons says slowly. His smile turns sheepish. “Uh. Sorry. I just— Yeah.”

“You should do that again,” Grif says quietly. They just stand there for a moment, waiting for the other to make the first move. Within a few seconds, Simmons huffs and pulls him in again.

There’s more confident this time, but a better-suited word would be clumsy. Their noses bump, neither of them knows how to shape their mouth, or where to put their lips. Their teeth graze each other enough to make Simmons hum, and Grif doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he just drops them to Simmons’ waist.

He never would trade it for anything else.

All rational thoughts are wiped away when Simmons’ hands move to the back of Grif’s neck, fingers idly wrapping themselves around stray strands of hair. He feels Simmons tilt his head a little bit, fitting their lips together better. He makes a pleased noise, and Simmons smiles against his mouth. His neck hurts a little from craning his head up, but Simmons was now pressing his lips all over Grif’s face, on his nose, just between his eyes, the corner of his mouth, on his mouth, again, and again, and again, so he can ignore it.

It fills his body with so many emotions at once because this, this right here is all he’s wanted. To be sure of something for once in his life, and to know he can have this. He can have Simmons here with him, and he can hold him when he’s upset instead of awkward shoulder patting, he can laugh for hours with him and finally look up at him with a smile without it becoming weird, he can kiss him to mess with him instead of making backhanded comments.

Certainty. That’s the thing he was missing this whole time.

“Y'know,” Simmons murmurs against his cheek. “I don’t see your hair down that much.”

Grif jerks back and sputters an incredulous laugh. “Really? We just started figuring out, like, half a lifetime’s worth of emotional constipation, and you’re thinking about my hair?”

“It’s nice!” Simmons says defensively. He finally steps away from Grif, arms crossed. Grif pretends to not notice how much that bothers him. “It’s… Nice. Also, please don’t talk about constipation when we’re making out.”

“'It’s nice.’ Thanks.” Grif rolls his eyes and goes to pull out the tie. His scalp was starting ache a bit anyway. Simmons’ fingers twitch slightly as he shakes it out and pushes it back from his face. Grif makes a quiet note of that for… Later.

Simmons lets out a heavy breath. “We’re still going to have to figure this… This,” he gestures vaguely, “out eventually.”

“Ugh. Do we have to?” Grif whines. “I think it’s fine right now. We can— We can come back to that later. You know what we’re going to have to do now? Take a kick-ass nap. Or make out more, can we do that?”

“I didn’t say now, dipshit. It’s just that years of experience plus Doc and Donut has told me that poor communication isn’t healthy.”

“Healthy,” Grif repeats. “Yeah, 'cause we’re just the best at being healthy.” They keep flat faces for a beat before they burst out laughing. Grif doubles over, barely registering Simmons using him as a support. He can hear the rare, tiny snorts that he knows Simmons hates, but right now it’s the most precious sound in the world.

“We are so shit at this,” Simmons manages before breaking down again. Grif wheezes in response.

“At least we’re consistent!” It takes another minute for them to calm down. Grif wipes a tear from his eye. “No, but seriously—” He breaks out into another fit of giggles. “Fuck, we’re gonna go and do the nap thing now. No,” Grif presses a finger to Simmons’ lips when he starts to protest. “They overwork us anyways. We can take breaks.”

“They don’t overwork you,” Simmons mumbles around his finger. “And I still have forms—”

“That other people can fill out themselves.” Grif grabs both of Simmons’ hands and tugs him towards his bed. He goes with barely any resistance, and they curl up on top of the covers. So much for needing to work.

It takes a few minutes of repositioning and a lot of repetition of the phrase, 'Move, jackass,’ but they manage. Simmons ends up with his chin resting on top of Grif’s head. His arm loops over Grif’s back to mess with the back of his hair again. He’s tucked against Simmons’ chest. There, he can hear the whirrs and clicks of all of the complicated parts that make him up. It’s strangely comforting.

Exhaustion hits him all at once. He hadn’t realized how late it was when he came in here. He inhales deeply into Simmons’ shirt. It still smells like vanilla for somehow. The scent reminds Grif of something, but he can’t remember what.

Simmons sighs, breath hot against his head. Giddiness pulses through Grif’s body again. In the span of Thank you.“

"For what?”

“For— You know what, forget it. I want to sleep.” Grif shrugs and scoots a bit closer.

“I’ll take that action.” Grif can feel Simmons chuckles bubble from his chest to his throat. He’s washed over again with sheer joy, and he shivers a bit. Simmons apparently takes this as him being cold because he pulls him into his chest a little more.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Something itches in the back of Grif’s mind.

“Guess you were right,” he murmurs.

“Wha’? 'bout wha’?” Simmons answers sleepily.

“Opposites do attract.”

Simmons makes a confused noise.“What’re you even sayin’?”

“Nothin’.” A minute of silence passes. “G'night, Simmons.”

“Goodnigh’, Grif.”

#my writing #grimmons #dexter grif #dick simmons #rvb #rvb fanfic #fanfic #they drink a lil bit but nothing crazy happens

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