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starilicious · 3 years

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ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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funkylittlebard · 3 years

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No Think, Only Panic

So this is my fic for the bog exchange, and it's for @dani-dandelino ! Hope you like it, hehe

Ao3 Link

CWs: I swear a lot, therefore they swear a lot. Think that's it.

Geraskier fake dating, (idiots who happen to be) friends to lovers, modern au

Knock knock.

Jaskier blinked his eyes open with a groan. The knocking on the door continued- he huffed and pulled a pillow over his head, muffling the noise.

“Go away, Geralt,”

For a moment, there was blessed silence and Jaskier thought he might be able to return to his afternoon nap. He stretched out a little further across the bed, a sleepy smile spread across his face.

Then the knocking started again. He groaned into his pillow before throwing it stroppily at the door.

“Geralt! What do you want, for God's sake?”

The door inched open and Geralt peeked in sheepishly, biting his lip.

“I might have fucked up a tiny bit,” he said as he stared at Jaskier, who sighed and rubbed his eyes. He waved Geralt over and the other man scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed, full of uncharacteristically nervous energy. He couldn't quite look Jaskier in the eye, so he peered down at the clothes littering his friend’s floor and started picking at his jeans. Jaskier watched him, and waited. Geralt swallowed, opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He winced and went to try again, cringing when all that came out was “hmm.” Jaskier smiled at him fondly and snuggled further back into the bed.

“Take your time.”

Waiting for his friend to continue, he realised something.

“How was Vesemir? You met him for lunch, right?” Geralt’s fidgeting instantly stilled. Jaskier frowned, all thoughts of going back to sleep forgotten. “Did something happen?” Geralt started to shake his head, then nod, then stopped altogether.

“Fuck. Sort of.”

Jaskier leant forward and reached out to run his fingers in a gentle caress over Geralt's forearm.

“Is he alright?”

Geralt grumbled and buried his head in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah he’s fine. It’s just his birthday is coming up soon and…” he trailed off again. Jaskier tilted his head in confusion and noticed that the skin on the back of Geralt’s neck had turned a dark pink. They sat in silence for a moment until Geralt managed to gather his thoughts enough to try again.

“He asked me if I was seeing anyone again.”

Jaskier nodded.

“So? He asks you that pretty much every year, right?”

Geralt winced again, still not looking Jaskier in the eye, even more so than usual.

“Yeah, but this time I said I was.”

Jaskier blinked.

“Well, you've kept that very quiet,” he obstinately ignored the fact that he felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Who’s the lucky person then?”

He watched as Geralt blushed and looked at the wall above Jaskier’s head.

“I'm not seeing anybody, Jaskier. I just panicked.” Jaskier bit his lip and continued to stroke Geralt's arm, determined not to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already clearly was. He tried to think what else a panicked Geralt might have said.

“Yes, but did you tell Vesemir that you have a special someone?” If possible, Geralt got even redder as he stared resolutely at the wall, hands fidgeting on his lap as if he couldn’t keep them still. He nodded sharply, and Jaskier gazed at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Hmm. Fuck.'' Geralt ducked his head, hair falling over his shoulder to hide his face from view. A sudden, terrible thought occurred to Jaskier. He shuffled closer, brushing the white hair back and behind his friend’s ear.

“Geralt, darling, you sweet idiot, my best of friends. You didn't say we were dating did you?”

Geralt visibly flinched back from Jaskier’s grip and started to climb up from the bed. Jaskier watched, his mouth twisting into a miserable line and his eyes narrowing as Geralt fled the room, door hanging open behind him.

“Geralt?” he called out, listening to the sounds of Geralt throwing himself down into the creaky old armchair they kept in their living room. He heard the jangling of keys and the thud of boots being thrown to the floor. Jaskier’s eyebrows flew into his hairline and he leapt out of bed, blanket trailing behind him like a cape. He entered the room just as Geralt was shrugging his jacket on. He had one hand on the door handle already.

Jaskier drew himself up to his full height, trying very hard to look as imposing as it was possible for a man wrapped in a fluffy blanket to do. He fixed his flatmate with a stern glare and pointed back to the armchair. “Sit down, right now. We need to talk about this.'' Geralt seemed to shrink in on himself before Jaskier’s eyes, but he didn't move away from the door or pull his hand back. Eyes downcast, he slumped against the wall. Jaskier moved over to the sofa and got himself comfortable, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Come sit with me, Geralt,” he held one arm up invitingly, and offered his friend a small, tender smile. Geralt frowned and with a sigh, he pulled himself away from the wall and came and slumped on the sofa. He peeked up at Jaskier through his lashes, begging silently. Jaskier’s heart melted and he pulled his friend closer to his chest. A contented sigh slipped out of Geralt’s mouth as he closed his eyes and snuggled closer.

They had been getting more comfortable sharing each other’s space like this- well, Geralt had- and Jaskier had been enjoying it immensely, pleased at this new closeness between them and trying desperately not to read too much into it. He rubbed circles into Geralt's back as he waited for the other man to start talking.

“He wanted to know if I was seeing anybody. I said no, not really and he just looked so hopeful when he asked me what that meant.” Jaskier had to resist asking as much himself- it wasn't like Geralt to be so vague. Instead he let him carry on. “And then he asked me who I meant and I- I didn't know what to say, and then my phone buzzed because you were texting me, and he saw-” he broke off with an aggravated sigh. It was silent for a moment, and Jaskier could feel heat rising in his cheeks. Geralt groaned, rolling his eyes and glaring up at the ceiling. He folded his arms across his chest.

“He thinks we’re dating. And I didn’t correct him. Sorry.”

Jaskier gaped at him. He was definitely blushing now. He cleared his throat, feeling far too hot all of a sudden.

“He- you- I- well then. That’s, that’s fine.”

He groaned internally- there was no way Geralt wasn’t going to misinterpret that as him hating the idea of them dating. He winced. Geralt was staring down at the carpet again, shuffling awkwardly in Jaskier’s arms.

“I can ring him and explain?” His voice was barely audible, the tension obvious in his shoulders.

“No, sorry, I was just surprised. You don’t have to do that. What do you need from me?” Leaning over him, he managed to catch Geralt’s gaze. Geralt bit his lower lip, worrying it as he thought.

“Come with me to his party? That’s it I swear.” He was still nibbling his lip, sharp white teeth rendering Jaskier unable to focus on replying for a moment. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear his mind.

“Yeah! Yeah of course,” he knew even as he said it that he’d overcompensated for his last response. He resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. “Would you like a cup of tea? We can try and figure out what we’re going to do after that?”

Geralt paused and then nodded.

“Ok.”

----

Two somewhat awkward days later, and Jaskier and Geralt found themselves stood in front of Vesemir’s front door, Geralt’s hand hovering poised to knock. He looked at Jaskier, nodded once, and rapped sharply on the door. It slammed open a moment later and they were greeted with the sight of Lambert’s grinning face.

“At fucking last! I knew it! Eskel!” He wandered back off down the hallway, calling for his eldest brother as he went. Geralt and Jaskier stood open-mouthed and unmoving on the doorstep for a minute. Jaskier recovered first.

“We should go inside, huh?” He reached a hand out to Geralt, and smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. Geralt took it with a shy grin and they walked into the house following the sound of Lambert’s voice together.

They found him on the back steps into the garden, bent over cackling next to Eskel, who was scowling and taking money out of his wallet. Eskel flushed a little as he caught sight of Geralt, and slunk off into the small crowd gathered in the garden. Jaskier tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing in bafflement. He watched as Lambert finally managed to compose himself, walked over, and slapped a hand down on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Come on, I'll help you find Vesemir.” He wandered down the steps towards the main gathering of guests. Jaskier could see a grey head that he thought might be Geralt’s father, but the figure vanished before he could be certain. Shrugging at Geralt, he gripped his hand a little tighter and they stepped down onto the grass.

Lambert’s version of helping them find Vesemir seemed to mainly involve staring at them surreptitiously over his shoulder, winking at Jaskier whenever he caught his eye, and generally not being much help whatsoever. Jaskier rolled his eyes and pulled Geralt away from Vesemir’s work colleagues and friends and tugged the other man to stand with him over by a small table laid out with drinks. Geralt leant back on it and snatched up two bottles of lemonade. He thrust one in Jaskier’s direction and looked at him expectantly, soft smile still gracing his face.

“I think Lambert’s fucking with us,” Jaskier said bluntly, taking a sip of his drink. Geralt’s eyebrows quirked.

“When is he not?” Jaskier had to laugh- Lambert had always been and probably would always be an absolute bastard. He threw his head back, fringe flying away from his forehead and a broad smile taking over his face. He struggled to contain himself and when he did, he looked back at Geralt and drew in an astonished intake of air. Geralt appeared completely awestruck, mouth gone soft and eyes open wide. He looked- well, to Jaskier he looked like-

“Geralt! You’re here at last!” Jaskier blinked, trying to make sense of what he had just seen as Vesemir strolled over and wrapped his boy in a very tight looking embrace, judging from the way Geralt was spluttering. Jaskier hid his face behind his bottle, still stunned by Geralt’s expression. Did he- was Jaskier not the only- what? As he stood there, astounded by the possibility, he found himself being pulled into a hug. He landed on Vesemir’s chest with an “oof” and had to scramble desperately not to pour lemonade all over him. Pulling back a little, he regarded Vesemir with his most winning smile, attempting to reign in his panicked thoughts.

“Happy birthday, Vesemir!” The man beamed at him.

“Thank you, Jaskier. I hear congratulations are in order for you by the way, this great imbecile-” he wrenched Geralt over by his ear, completely disregarding the resulting yelp- “finally got his act together and asked you out.” Geralt was staring at the floor again as his face turned pink. Jaskier could feel himself beginning to blush, too, but he ignored it valiantly as he nodded in answer to Vesemir’s question.

“Yeah, we got there eventually,” he said with a nervous giggle. Desperate to remove himself from the situation before he was questioned any further about his “boyfriend”, he tried to escape. “But we should let you get back to your party. I need a minute alone with Geralt anyway.” To his simultaneous horror and relief, Vesemir stepped back and threw him a conspiratorial wink and walked off with a wave to Geralt. When Jaskier looked back at the other man, he had his head in his hands.

“Geralt?” He got a grunt in response. Typical. Jaskier peeled his fingers carefully away from his face and moved to cup it with his hands. He smoothed his thumb over Geralt’s cheekbone in soothing motions as the other man kept his eyes scrunched shut and continued not to respond to him. He tried again. “Geralt, sweetheart, what's the matter?”

Another grunt. Jaskier frowned, and poked him in the ribs. Geralt grunted again, but looked up. He held Jaskier's gaze for all of a second, before his eyes widened in horror as he spotted something across the garden. Jaskier, puzzled, swivelled to have a look and the problem was immediately apparent- Eskel staring at them, eyes narrowed and moving in Lambert’s direction.

“Fuck,” Jaskier hissed, “They’re onto us, aren’t they?” Geralt stared at him, wild-eyed. He swallowed. Then, he had a sudden, awful wave of inspiration. “Geralt,” he whispered, “Geralt do you trust me?” The frantic nodding would normally have been answer enough, but Jaskier hesitated. God, if he was wrong, Geralt would hate him for this. “Ger-”

“Yes, fuck, I trust you.”

Jaskier inhaled sharply, grabbed Geralt by the hips and pulled him in close.

“Good, right, ok-” it was terrifying being this close. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Then, before he had time to lean in, Geralt let out a soft chuckle and tilted his head towards him. Jaskier moaned as chapped lips pressed gently against his own. Geralt’s tongue swept across his lip, asking sweetly to deepen the kiss. Jaskier dug his fingers into Geralt's hips, trying to pull him just a little closer. He felt the rumble of Geralt’s answering groan on his lips, and then Geralt was looping his arms around Jaskier’s neck so that they rested on his shoulders. Geralt’s teeth bit teasingly on his bottom lip and tugged it. Jaskier moaned quietly as his tongue moved across it, soothing where he had bitten.

When he felt Geralt inch back, Jaskier realised that he had no idea if Eskel or Lambert had been watching. He had been so lost in the moment that had almost forgotten it wasn't real. His heart dropped into his stomach and he let his eyes slip shut.

“Jask?” a muffled voice questioned. “Umm. They've stopped looking.” Jaskier winced and ducked his head low close to his chest.

“You can let go of me then, I guess.” Even to Jaskier’s ear, he sounded sullen. Yet Geralt didn't move. His arms were still on Jaskier’s shoulders, and his hands on Geralt's hips. He forced himself to glance at Geralt. That raw, starstruck expression from earlier was back. Before he could stop himself the words were out of his mouth. “Why're you staring at me like that, Geralt?”

He watched, fascinated, as the other man flushed and a shy, awkward smile lit up his face. Maybe Geralt felt the same? No, of course not, he would have said something by now, they'd been friends for years. He couldn't think like that, he'd just drive himself mad with what he couldn't have. The sound of Geralt sighing drew him from his thoughts.

“I… I can’t do this with my dad watching, fuck.” Jaskier looked over his shoulder and spotted Vesemir giving him a thumbs up, before laughing into his drink and turning away. “Come on.” Geralt was already dragging him back inside the house- he hoped nobody got the wrong idea. Then again, wasn't that rather the point of this whole scheme? Perhaps it was best if they did.

Geralt brought them into the kitchen and hoisted himself up onto the counter. He ran a hand through his hair before snagging a tie off his wrist and throwing it up into a messy bun. Jaskier stared at his undercut, trying to distract himself from the clawing sensation building in his stomach- it was getting a bit long, a bit scruffy looking, he’d need to get the clippers back at it again. He looked up again at Geralt's rough, delighted chuckle.

“Jaskier. I’m sorry if I went a bit far out there,” he ran his hand over the back of his neck, rubbing it before dropping it back down. “But I… I want to, I need to ask you something.” Jaskier didn't think he'd ever seen Geralt so nervous- his eyebrows were practically in his hairline and his knuckles were a stark white where they gripped the countertop. His gaze was a little shaky and his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on one place, darting around wildly. “I… do you… ah, fuck.” Jaskier couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. He knew Geralt was trying, but watching him stutter out the few words was easing the knot of anxiety in his chest.

Letting out an irritated sigh, Geralt spoke again. “I want to kiss you again.” He froze, with an adorably confused tilt to his eyebrows. Jaskier could feel his heart beating faster. Geralt couldn’t possibly mean it. That would be ridiculous. “No, wait- I mean, I do but-” Jaskier smiled at him, despite the racing of his heart. Truly, no matter what the man tried, Geralt seemed to find expressing himself as difficult as ever. Geralt groaned and hit his head back on the cupboard. He stared at the ceiling a moment. “Jaskier, I… you mean a lot to me. Would you want to go on a real date with me, sometime?”

Jaskier gaped at him, hardly able to breathe for a moment. His hands felt clammy and he set his bottle down heavily on the counter. Geralt really felt the same? He hadn’t imagined it?

“Why didn't you say anything sooner, you idiot?” he sobbed and launched himself across the small tiled space into Geralt’s waiting arms.

“I.. you… Jaskier, you do?” He sounded a bit choked up and Jaskier felt his heart melt even more for him, the absolute idiot.

“Guess we’re both the idiots in this case, huh? Clear communication, who is she?” Jaskier chuckled, feeling a little tearful himself. Geralt nodded against his shoulder. Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so stupid and yet brilliant all at once. Well, it didn't matter. He had a gorgeous man to be kissing.

#bog exchange #my writing #the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #some mention of the other witchers but not really enough to tag #they're stupid your honor

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meruz · 4 years

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Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for?

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha.

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at [email protected].

<33333333333333333333333333

#ask #anonymous

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ji-yaaan · 4 years

Text

@kendal0ksw Asks: Anyway... I would like to request a sweet honey milk tea of Deuce, Azul, and Malleus (being called Tsunotaro) with a male Yuu kissing their hand. And when asked why he responds that 1. they looked like they needed a little distraction from whatever was troubling them and 2. to show how much they care about them. Hope this is alright...

𝑨 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚

Headcannons with: Malleus, Deuce, & Azul

Note: Someone pls shoot me I don't know how to write 3 repetitive scenarios w/o making it boring asf. So with request that has similar patterns per character, I figured Headcannons would work? I hope it's ok. I tried making imagines but it looked boring... OH! But I added my short Azul scenario as compensation. Blergh enough chitchat I'm thirstea.

[ 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚘𝚋𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚊 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍... ]

-ˋˏ•𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒔 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒂•ˎˊ-

After a long day of being avoided being the infamous “Malleus Draconia” this fae gets tired from the attention he draws and the lack of attention he gets.

Dealing with Dorm duties, People constantly fearing him for nothing, people approaching him to pry information *cough Rook cough* and to not even get an invite in dorm leader meetings? This just gives him a bit of a headache.

He will probably flee to his room when things get a little bit out of hand and he needs some of that good relaxation time.

Resting his head on the bed. Eyes slowly close. The atmosphere relaxing as breaths slow down. "Welcome back Tsunotaro!" You cheerfully exclaimed.

What? Nani? What in the world? Was he that distracted to not notice you in the room this whole time? Expect yourself a O.O face from you local fae.

"Hmm? I didnt notice you were there Y/n..." Even if your lovely Malleus is shocked, He will still gently smile at you. Eyes narrowing, an endearing smile appears in his face everytime he looks at you.

Slowly, your hands would make it's way to creep in his hands. Bingo! Hand holding complete!

Ok! Time for mission number 2! After a tight clasp on Malleus' fingers, you brought your face close to the hands you held dear, and gave the fae a small kiss at the back of his hands.

As if the shock earlier wasn't enough, The fae's eyes widens in surprise yet again. Malleus definitely doesn't get your behavior at times..... But it's not like he hates it... In fact, He loves it...( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

A warm giddy smile paint your face. How infectious... A smile that can melt all your troubles away within a hitch of a second. Malleus can't help but smile ear to ear with the endearing gestures he received.

"But why would you even kiss my hand?" The fae questions in laughter. "Well, you looked pretty troubled today and I dont really know how to help... So I thought that a small kiss will do the trick!"

"You know how much I care about you right?" The answer Malleus got was something priceless. His heart felt warm and fuzzy hearing that someone cares for him. There really was never a dull moment with you.

Expect a little tint of flushed pink in the fae's cheeks for a brief moment. But gotta look close! Malleus won't show it, but he's blushy wushy and melting all over!

Tsunotaro is not much of the type to get the receiving end but he's still very thankful you did this for him uwu.

Expect malleus to give you a kiss on your hand in return too! He can't help but want to share the feeling he got when you kissed his! ^~^

-ˋˏ•𝑫𝒆𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒆•ˎˊ-

Finishing the last lesson of Alchemy class, Spade boi is exhausted. Using too much braincells is not his forte, but he still needs to grind to get to the honor roll!

He will probably stay in the classroom for a bit and study some of the history materials and alchemy reviewers for the test tommorow... Oops, our cutie fell asleep while writing down his notes.

You walk your way to the classroom because you forgot something. But surprise surprise, it seems like the something you forgot is actually a person, not a belonging...ಠωಠ

You peeked at deuce sleeping soundly with his head resting on the desk. You laughed at how cute he looked sleeping with his mouth open.

He didn't even spare time to take off his lab coat. He must be exhausted huh?Worried by deuce, staying for a bit won't be a crime right?

While reading, somehow, your eyes wanders off to his hands that fell off the desk while he grunted "five more minutes." Wow, sleeping deuce is probably one of the best deuce out there huh? You laughed to yourself.

Maybe it was because of boredom, maybe even from worry, or maybe its just because you simply wanted to do it. But you started to intertwine your fingers with deuce... WoaH...

Smiling at how comfortable it was to hold his hands. You prop your face to kiss his fingers. Chu~♡

"Uhhhmmm....." Oh... You got caught redhanded... Deuce wakes up to find you holding his hands... furthermore, YOU WERE KISSING IT! How embarrassing...(O////O)

Looking up at Deuce, You see a red tomato flushed boy. His cheeks up to his ears are painted pink from embarassment.

"Ahaha... Good morning... Oh wait... Good afternoon." Deuce will look away from you bashfully... How embarrassing for him... But face it, this is such a treat for you.

"You know... You've been awfully dazed and troubled these days... Please take take a break too... It's bad if you keep sleeping in random places! I care about you a lot and I don't want to see you stressed ok?"

Deuce was left astounded with the heartwarming speech you gave him... He felt butterflies flew in his stomach, like flowers bloomed inside his heart. Truly touching words...

Spade boi will smile gently at you, pink cheeks like powder blush, and eyes that sparkled Joy.

Expect this boi to grab your hands and put them in his pockets, saying "If taking a break is ok... Then this is ok right? Let's stay like this for a little bit longer... Ok?"

He'll look away in the other direction, propping his other hand and resting his head on it. If you look closely... A delicious red blush can be seen in his neck and ears too!

“Even if Riddle were to scold us, i think it will be worth it”♡♡♡♡♡♡

-ˋˏ•𝑨𝒛𝒖𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐•ˎˊ-

After a tiresome day as Mostro Lounge, the lounge closing a little later than the usual, A certain octopus is really tired and frustrated because the work got pushed back in their schedule.

As he skims through the numerous pages of parchment, octo boi let out a sigh from frustration. He has to deal with a lot of things this night....

But what he didn't expect was that you were there to brighten his night!

Have a short scenario cuz I love u ♡

Boisterous laughter. Joyful screams. Drinks spilt in the floors and tables. The lounge was getting rowdier with each passing second. Fights fuming in the other tables. Song being sung across the bars.

What's up with this chaos? Where was Jade and Floyd?.... Oh right... Azul nagged on floyd earlier this morning. He's now in his infamous bad moods leaving Jade the only responsible person azul can rely on. But Jade got his hands preoccupied with stopping fights at the moment... Dammit... This is going to be one hell of an evening.

After dealing with the chaos of Mostro Lounge's happy hour, strain and fatigue was evident just by a peek at Azul's Face.

"Haaahhhh... Dealing with those morons was a waste of time, I've still got a long night reviewing the deals and homeworks... Hah. Wonderful..." The sound of pen scratching the wood rang across the room as Azul hummed a melody trying to relieve stress...

"A.z.u.l. kun! Hello!" You happily hummed as azul got caught off guard shocked. "Hm! Oh! Y/n? When did you get here? Pardon me, The lounge was quite rowdy earlier and we had to close a little later than the usual... Oh wait a second lem me just take care of this..." Fingers swept through the crisp pages of numerous books. His pen lightly tapping a beat in the wooden desk.

Moments pass as seconds became minutes. The pen scratching noises enveloped the room drowning in silence. Azul was lost in thought as he burn through the hundreds of words written in the thin pieces of parchment.

You pout at the thought of azul ignoring you, but it's not like you can disturb his work either. So in the end, you just watch him skim through hundreds of pages and thousands of words. Eyebrows furrowed, he fixes his eyeglasses again...

Lost in thought, your eyes wanders off to his ungloved hand... The back of his hand looked smooth and it looked soft. Caught in the moment of daze, you didn't even realize your hands crept stealthily working its way to lock fingers with Azul. This caused azul to look at you in disbelief and shock as a tinge of pink paints his pale face.

What? Octoboi is confused. What? Why were you holding his hands? What? You're not letting go of his hands! futhermore, your fingers are INTERTWINED! Azul.exe has stopped working. Azul wasn't made for cute moments like this.

"Y/n... May I ask why you suddenly linked fingers with me?" Azul asked with his fingers tinged pink, face was painted red down to his neck. "Well... You looked really troubled while you were doing your work... So I thought that you can use a short break? You looked pretty stressed so...."

Ahhhh.... Azul really should've read that one romance book he once stumbled upon, how does he deal with this? Damn, he surely wasn't made for this... He stared up your eyes only to look away again bashfully.

Pfttt you gotta admit... Azul really looks cute like this. You slowy brought your lips to azul's hands. Chu~♡ a kiss on the hands! bingo! "There! Have a kiss as a token of my love for you and how much I care for you! Hehe!"

That's it, Azul needs maintenace after this... This is just too cute for his soul. Cheeks tinged red, he fixes his glasses up again. His hands lightly squeeze yours as he began to say "Well, I cannot abandon my work and responsibilities... But maybe it's not a crime if its just for a few minutes... Don't let go of my hand ok?" The night at Mostro Lounge was quite chilly than the usual. But the hours that passed by felt warmer with the hold of a certain octopus.

End.

Note: Running low on braincells, Hope you liked this. And yes, I'm currently in my real time Azul loving hours. Time to buy takoyaki~ jk no I'm doing more requests that is rotting in my inbox. Again, sorry if this was not your cup o' tea (༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #disney #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #twst azul #twst deuce #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #fanfiction

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going-fancognito · 4 years

Note

A head canon of Revali/ Sidon/ Link with their s/o of who confessed first and how. You writing is insanely amazing and I hope you didn’t do this already 😂 ( btw you can only do Revali or only Sidon if you want or with whoever you want, don’t feel pressure)

Y’all gotta stop with the compliments before my ego reaches Revalis level lol (ButdontactuallypleaseIloveit-). But don’t worry Anon, pretty sure I haven’t done this ask yet. And with the power of boredom, I SHALL HAPPILY DO ALL THREE BOYS!!

Revali:

Technically, you confessed first

But as for who started it; that was totally Revali, hands down

Doesn’t want to risk getting rejected, so he tries to figure out your feelings first

Drops soooo many hints

(Surprised he even recognizes the word, tbh)

Will constantly complain about his adoring fans, trying to gauge your reaction

“How burdensome Y/N, an individual such as myself having to carry so much talent alone” You ignore his side glances towards you. “Perhaps I should take on a lover. You know, to prevent any potential heartbreaks in the future.”

You do your best to act casual. “Oh really? So who’s going to be the lucky one?”

Right on cue, flustered floofy boi has been activated.

“Well I, erm- Ideally, it should be someone that I can consider my equal. I can’t simply just pick anyone, I have high standards after all.” He proceeds to quickly list off the things that he requires in a partner.

‘Coincidentally’, you seem to check off everything on his list

You struggle to maintain a straight face during his rant

Subtle? Yeah Revali, sure

A heart shaped arrow to the heart would be less obvious (albeit more painful)

He act so smug when you confess to him

“Well, I can hardly blame you. After all, who could possibly resist my natural charm?” Was it just you, or did his blush marks seem a brighter red than usual? “Worry not y/n, your infatuations are not completely unreciprocated. I will cease your desperate pining and give you the honour of being my romantic partner. Feel free to thank me now.”

This smug motherfu-

(He’s going to pay for that later)

Sidon:

Sidon undoubtedly confesses first

He’s a very expressive boi

Not the type of guy who’ll bottle up his feelings

If something’s on his mind, he will say so

And right now, what’s on his mind is you

As soon as he realizes his feelings towards you, he starts planning out his confession

Takes him about 2-3 days to complete it

When asked to join him for a stroll, you wind up meeting with a very bashful Zora

Seriously, you’ve never seen Sidon look so nervous

It was a definitely an odd sight, considering that he’s an 8ft. tall shark prince, while you barely made it above his waist

He’ll bring you somewhere private, and then give a four-pages-long speech

He goes on about how lucky he was to have met you, no-one could possibly ever compare to someone as radiant as you, you were the pearl of his eye etcetera,.

Honestly? It’s pretty dang cheesy

But that just makes him all the more adorable for it

Besides, cliche or not, the fact that this was how he sees you was enough to make your heart melt

(That’s it. If you don’t take him, I will)

(#Sharingiscaring)

Link:

Link, listen: I get that you have trouble expressing yourself

But you’re gonna need to do SOMETHING if you want the reader to know that you like them

“You wanna hold her?” (Yes)

“Please her!?” (YES)

“THEN YOU’VE GOT TO GOT TO SHOW A LITTLE TENDERNESS~”

“THE CHICKS LOVE THAT ROMANTIC CRAP”

(Sorry I think I was just possessed by a dead Shrek meme)

Unfortunately, Links poker face and stoic demeanour makes it hard for you to read his feelings

Add that to his quiet nature, and you’ve got yourself stuck in a romantic Limbo

Thankfully, one day Link takes you horseback riding to gather wild herbs

Suddenly his horse rears back, sending you both tumbling to the ground

In true stereotypical anime fashion, you opened your eyes and found yourself in a compromising position with the protagonist

Looks like your tumble landed you perfectly on top of Link-

-with your mouth covering his.

(Kisskissfallinlove-)

You felt your ears burn in embarrassment as you quickly climb off of him

You try to frantically apologize, when Link stops you, grabbing your hands and shaking his head

His lips curved into a tiny smile, cheeks as red as yours probably were

It looked like....he didn’t mind? (Quite the opposite in fact)

Slowly, you returned his grin with a shy one of your own, barely registering the gentle squeeze he gives your hands

He slowly leans forward, giving you plenty of time to back away

(Link. Honey. If a sweet and handsome gentleman like you is making a move towards me, you bet your fine Hylian ass that I’m not gonna say no)

It’s safe to say that your second kiss was definitely not an accident

Link leans back again, and you both seem to reach a silent conclusion

Link helps you to your feet and, still smiling like a pair of idiots, you both head over to where his horse was patiently waiting

Huh, his horse looked a lot calmer compared to a minute ago

Actually....was it just you, or did it even seem a bit smug?

Hehe. Looks like the horse decided to confess on their riders behalf

(wingman/horse for the win)

#botw headcanons #botw imagines #revalixreader #sidonxreader #linkxreader #botwxreader #my writing #botw #revali #link botw #sidon #revali x reader

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aspenflower17 · 4 years

Text

Finding You (Part Nine of ??)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone (even if you don’t live in the US)! Here is the update for this week :) This chapter was a little self indulgent. I do talk a tiny bit about music theory and Jane Austen in this chapter. If you have questions about either, just ask and I can try to explain/direct you to some good sources on what I’m talking about 😅

Edit: Totally forgot to mention! The whole Pride and Prejudice HC about Lucifer is not originally mine. I believe I read it on one of the Beel blogs. I think it was @taco-beel :)

For anyone new, here is the link for Part One. I hope you enjoy 😁

Tags for the Lovelies: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan (If you’d like to be added to the tags list, just message me or comment below!)

Satan/ F!Mc

Trigger Warnings: possibly for depression?

Word Count: 2,322

After Mc shut the door, she slid down the door to the floor, head in her hands. Well, that couldn’t have gone worse. I would’ve rather had him ignore me or not remember me at all. I could’ve figured out how to interact with him in those situations. But what was with him being sweet in the beginning, and then just seizing up? Then he grabbed my wrist and seemed super worried about me leaving and then didn’t even say anything the whole walk?! That goodbye too! What was that?!

The more Mc thought about the whole thing, the more upset she got. She leaned her head back against the door, her brain replaying the beginning of the conversation trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Remembering the look in his eyes as he had fervently declared he remembered her. The warmth of his voice.

Then the progressive unease as she had continued talking until the abrupt emotional cutoff. He had obviously been uninterested in talking with her any longer, though she really couldn’t figure out why. He had been so dismissive. But when I tried to leave… She looked down to the wrist he had grabbed. He sounded so… desperate. Like he truly didn’t want to let me leave. So, why didn’t he talk to me?

“Mc? Are you alright?” Michael asked, stepping into the entrance hall with Diavolo.

“I’m… I’m fine. Diavolo, do you have a music room?” Mc asked, standing up as nonchalantly as she could.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you have a piano, or similar instrument?”

“Yes…”

“May I use it for the rest of the day? I need to compose.”

“I… Sure. I’ll have Lil’ D No. 2 show you the way,” and as he said that, a small demon appeared and beckoned her forward, and she promptly followed.

“Oh dear,” Michael sighed, eyes following Mc.

“What’s wrong,” Diavolo asked, thoroughly confused by the whole encounter.

“She is definitely not alright. She can only compose when she’s really emotional about something.”

“I… Wait, is she going to let us hear it when she’s done?” Diavolo asked, eyes lighting up.

Mc sat down at the piano. It was an almost pure black grand, and the key colors were reversed, which was messing with her brain visually. The piano bench lid was made from a beautiful dark red wood, the rest the same black as the rest of the piano. The piano did not look worn, but it was obviously old.

Mc started playing her normal warm up scales, but quickly stopped when she realized they didn’t sound right. She tried again with the same result. It’s in minor…

Trying out all the keys, she realized the whole piano was in minor. You could play major chords, but it was like making minor chords on a normal piano. Interesting.

Mc continued playing and getting warmed up, wanting to explore the amazing opportunity that had presented itself. She started playing some of her own creations, marveling at how different her songs sounded. As she was playing, she remembered a song she had abandoned a long time ago. Though it should have sounded correct, she had never been able to make it sound correct. I wonder…

She started playing the song, and was amazed to find just how perfect it sounded. It was the same song, but it now sounded perfect. Encouraged, Mc tried to continue composing, but she couldn’t get past where she had already composed, no matter how much she worked on it. Discouraged and a little frustrated, Mc look at her DDD and was surprised to see it was almost time for dinner.

Standing up, she promised herself she’d come back later, and work on it more.

“I’ve decided to throw a ball in Mc’s honor!”

Michael and Mc looked up from their dinner at the proclamation from Diavolo. Luke seemed unphased by the announcement.

“A ball? In my honor?”

“Yes! You’re my honored guest after all.”

“He also loves throwing balls,” Luke added.

“Also that,” Diavolo admitted.

“Well, I’d be honored. Thank you.”

“Perfect! It’ll be held a week from today. Barbados! Make sure invitations are sent and food is ready.”

“Yes sir,” Mc jumped, not realizing Barbados was in the room, turning around to see him exit. She was starting to notice the butler seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Is a week too fast?” Mc asked worriedly.

“Nonsense! This is a lot more notice than I usually give if I’m going to be honest,” Diavolo laughed.

“For a whole ball to be planned?”

“Yes! Barbados is one hell of a butler,” Diavolo grinned over his teacup, before taking a sip.

Mc sat in her room and mused over the events of the day. Now that she had calmed down enough to think rationally, she started analyzing Satan’s behavior, and found she really couldn’t make sense of it. Unless he thought I was someone else… Wait. That makes a lot of sense actually. Like not a ton of sense, because he should have realized I wasn’t them before I started talking about meeting him before, but more than anything else I can think of. He may have also been a little… unhinged. He did look like he hadn’t slept in three days…

Satisfied enough that her brain could rest, she snuggled down into her blankets. Every time she closed her eyes however, all she saw was Satan’s face as he had grabbed her wrist. She brought her other hand up to her wrist and grabbed it. Now smiling, she drifted off to sleep.

Mc snorted, shifting a bit as she read. The bed was comfortable, the scent of its owner making her feel safe and comforted. Classes had been long and when the demon that sat behind her had gotten up, they had accidentally hit her in the head with their bag pretty hard, which had made Mammon nearly kill them. She had narrowly saved their life by assuring him it had been an accident and somehow calming her guardian demon down. This then had resulted in her being called into talk with Lucifer about what had happened, and so she had missed her Devildom History course.

She had come to Satan’s room to grab the notes he had thoughtfully taken for her, but when he saw how worn out she was, he had offered a quiet evening of reading and tea. She hadn’t been able to refuse, seeing as how she relished anytime she could get with him. The scent of old books and their caretaker was a surefire way to help her unwind from the day, the stacks of books throughout the room making her feel like they were in their own little world. The outside world glittered in the perpetual darkness through Satan’s large windows.

“What’s so amusing?” Satan asked from the armchair he had moved over by his bed once their reading sessions became a normal occurrence.

“‘We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man; but this would be nothing if you really liked him’” Mc quoted.

“Ah! ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’” Satan said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Mc’s brain stopped functioning for a second, “Wai… Wha…?”

“Pride and Prejudice right?”

“Oh, hehe, right,” Mc laughed, trying to hide behind her book as best she could as all the blood rushed to her face, “It’s a good quote.”

“You know, when it came out, there was a rumor going around that Mr. Darcy was based off of Lucifer.”

“Wait… You’re joking.”

“No. He had been spending a lot of time in the human realm. Sometimes we wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Then, he just stopped going up as much. About a year later, Pride and Prejudice was released. After the rumor started, Lucifer would not allow it in the house for the longest time. He even went so far as to ask Diavolo not to allow it in the Devildom at all.”

Satan had Mc’s full attention at this point, “What was his excuse?”

“Something about a stupid romance novel ruining his reputation, and how we needed to be the voice of reason for the lower demons if they were going to allow themselves to be so easily swayed to believe the nonsense.”

“You had a copy though, right?”

“Oh, of course I did. I still do actually. First edition. I even went up to the human realm to get it.”

“Wow… That explains so much though. Lucifer is like the epitome of Mr. Darcy.”

Satan shifted in his chair, and looked down at his book, “You think so?”

“Yeah. Tall, dark, handsome,” Mc watched as Satan sunk a bit lower in his chair at each word, seeming to get fairly upset, “Standoffish. Rude. Conceitful. Overbearing.”

“Ah, so you’re not a fan of Mr. Darcy?”

“Hmmm… I wouldn’t say that. He is her most popular leading man for a reason. But…”

“But?” Satan was looking at her now, his eyes probably larger and more insistent than he meant them to be.

“He’s far too prideful in the beginning for me. We probably wouldn’t have gotten anywhere,” Mc watched Satan relax visibly before continuing, “While I enjoy Pride and Prejudice, I’d rather read Sense and Sensibility or Northanger Abbey. I would rather have a Mr. Tilney or possibly even a Colonel Brandon. Someone who I could sit and make jokes with. Someone who would read to me. Someone I could go on adventures with and who could tell me all about this or that because they’re so well read,” Mc was looking down at the cover of the book now, and she could tell her face was heating up, “I’d much rather have someone like that.”

There was silence after Mc stopped talking, and she dared not look up. She’d basically just confessed to Satan, and she hadn’t even meant to. She kinda hoped her words went over his head, but also hoped they didn’t. The silence stretched longer than Mc would’ve liked before the bed shifted.

There was another few moments of silence before Satan spoke, a bit haltingly, “Mc, will you look at me? Please?”

Mc lifted her eyes shyly looking a little sheepish. She only had a moment of Satan’s shocked look before there was a flash of gold and his lips were on hers. She was so shocked she couldn’t respond for a second, but then she returned the kiss, melting as her body was on fire. Completely focused on the moment while soaring through the clouds. Perfect. It was perfect.

Mc came back to consciousness, her alarm playing soft piano music. She reached out her arms grasping. Searching. Coming up empty, she cracked an eye open, disappointment flooding her body when all she saw was her own arms. Her vision blurred as a strong wave of loneliness washed over her. She blinked a couple times to clear away her tears, feeling them slide down her face. She had had mornings like this in the Celestial Realm, though this was the first time she had remembered the dream that preceded it. She hadn’t really felt lonely since coming to the Devildom, and hadn’t registered it. Now though, it felt debilitating. She sent a text to Luke explaining she probably wouldn’t be down for breakfast and asking him to apologize to everyone for her. She then turned on some soft music, and dropped her DDD on the bed.

She lay quietly, the tears falling openly. This is what she had to do those terrible mornings in the Celestial Realm when she felt like she couldn’t face the day. Eventually her tears gave out, and she was left with an apathetic empty feeling. She continued laying in bed, not remembering a bout this bad in any recent history. After a while, she drifted off to sleep again.

“Hey. You awake?”

Mc groaned, sore from not moving in awhile, “Is that you Luke?”

“Yeah. I got a bit worried when you also missed lunch. You okay?”

“I think I’m okay now. I just got a bit too upset this morning.”

“Are you sure? I can tell Michael you’re caught up in an artistic frenzy or something.”

“Nah. Thanks though,” Mc smiled, still sleepy.

“Okay. As long as you're okay,” Luke was looking at her worriedly, but leaning down and kissing her forehead anyways, “I’ll make sure some lunch gets saved for you.”

“Thanks Luke,” Mc sighed, sitting up.

“Anything for my little sister.”

Over the next week, Mc continued trying to work on her song, though she didn’t get any further, along with her other art. She also read all about the Devildom’s history and visited some historically significant locations to put a name to a place. The whole time, her mind worked on the enigma that was her dream. She supposed it was a product of her brain trying to work through the disappointment of how her first meeting with Satan went, along with how active she had been since coming down to the Devildom. She tried to convince herself of this anyways. The truth was, it felt exactly like she was reliving a memory. It felt real, and nothing about it had been weird, all details clear, nothing out of place. It even felt familiar, she’d even go so far as to say worn, like some of her favorite memories did.

She blushed even thinking about the dream, clearly recalling the warmth and softness of his lips. The feeling of his hand on the back of her neck....

“Mc, are you almost ready,” Luke called from the other side of the door.

“Give me a couple more minutes. I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay. The guests are starting to arrive.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me know,” Mc took one last look at herself in the mirror before nodding and getting up, “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Like, comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love discussing Obey Me so feel free to chat with me 😁

Part Ten

#obey me!#OBEY ME #obey me satan #obey me satan/reader #obey me! swd #obey me f!mc #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me michael #obey me mc

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baloobird · 4 years

Text

Because I Said So

by @baloobird for @searching4sanity716 I hope you like this!!! 💜💜💜

This is my submission to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!!

Ao3 Link (but it’s not revealed yet)

Words: 10.1k (hehe whoops)

Rating: Not Rated

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, May Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker

**Slight Trigger Warning: mention of an eating disorder accusation but there’s no actual eating disorder. Attempted kidnapping while on patrol but it’s stopped before it goes anywhere**

Summary: He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May.

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else.

Peter doesn't tell May that he has to eat more than the average person because he knows how tight money is for them. He knows his aunt can't afford it so why say anything? And besides, he's fine.

Honestly.

No way is this going to come back and bite him in ass…absolutely not.

Adding my taglist here but the fic will be under the cut. I hope you enjoy!!!

Taglist: @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @dexteritymisdirectionsuggestion @peuty @starkaroos2034 @marvel-us-world @podcastsandcoffee @bestofirondadfics @mmmmmmmmmchicken @riseuplikeglitterandgold @desirexwolf @theoceanphoenixhasrisen @ultravioletstark @just-the-daydreamer @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @diminajackson @theofficialdeannawinchester @whatwasmyprevioususername @spidey-mood @autisticbabynurse @ironmanismydad @tinyandsteven @dreamingformuses @smokesteamair @intuitive-mathgeek @softrdj @legendarypenofeating @petermyspiderson @zselenophile @shymothstudios @and-so-my-adventures-begin @sarcasticmusic @fandomsofrandom @cluusheen @mjc-dream @emygirl @pxterbpxrker @pawprinterfanfic @innocent-until-proven-geeky @blackwatchandromeda @jaelyn-karrett @iron-damn @unnoted-invisible @pixeltrix-13 @anyonewantathroatsweet @m0ther-of-dragons @chaos-with-a-pen @spideynamu @bthtallmadge2 @verdonafrost @the-reverse-mermaid @icymapletree @kitkatwinchester @irondad-is-cannon-bitch @brushes-of-sage @ghostinthebau @canonismybitch @tmifangirl24 @loverofstuffsworld @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @i-write-disney-not-tragedies @drowned-in-books @peanutdoodles @hauntedbybleachella @aelinasardothien @tonystark-built-this-in-a-cave @tonystarkweneedyou @spideygirl2003 @7peternotparker7 @justme--emily @dongjiayun @dykeragee @jmercer1997 @swagfictionreadingnerd @dredfulhapiness @fallenstar07

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!!!

Peter has been staring at that damn clock for about thirty minutes now.

But only one minute has actually passed.

Why do the last ten minutes of class always feel like another fucking hour?

Despite time moving as slow as molasses, the teenager keeps staring at the clock, seeing his life tick away closer and closer to death.

Hey, it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than learning about the Industrial Revolution.

Whoever decided to make AP History the last class of the day deserves to be shot like Abraham Lincoln.

Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark. Ten more minutes until I can finally freaking eat.

As if reading his mind, the boy’s stomach releases yet another growl, so loud that a few of the surrounding students give him weird looks, making him flush in embarrassment.

The hero smiles sheepishly as he wraps his arms around his torso, hoping to suppress any more incoming rumbles.

God, he is so fucking hungry, as he has been for the last couple of hours.

He should be used to it by now, this almost constant state of hunger, and he knows he should say something to May.

But he can’t.

When his aunt found out about Spider-Man, she - understandably so - wanted to know any and all things about this double life: his powers, how they work, how they affect him, and the like.

So Peter told her everything…except for one small, teeny tiny detail.

That he now has a faster metabolism than everyone else. With the powers of his super strength, stickiness, and “spidey sense”, it’s no wonder he developed an increase in his appetite as well.

Of course he wants to tell May, he desperately wants to tell her to buy more food, to make enough dinner to feed four instead of two.

But he’d be an idiot not to notice how tight money is for them. Peter doesn’t miss the bills with the dreaded red stamp that states “past due”, or the student loan payments that she is at least a couple of months behind on.

“You, food, and shelter are always my first priorities, you know that,” May has said on more than a few occasions.

While yes, she always has enough for rent, food, and their phones, the kid would be lying if he said that their water and power have never been shut off. And he can’t count how many months they’ve had to go without wi-fi.

Thank God libraries exist or he’d never get any homework done.

So the teen does what he can to keep from going completely insane from lack of food consumption: since he’s a part of that free lunch program, he thankfully always has a lunch - even though it’s not enough to leave him satisfied - and Ned, the wonderful, amazing best friend that is Ned always packs an extra apple or another sandwich to give him so he won’t feel like he’s completely passing out by the time history class rolls around.

But even then he can hardly stand it.

Peter keeps his arms wrapped around him, watching the clock at the front of the classroom like a hawk.

Watching the last seven minutes tick by at the slowest possible speed.

The genius feels his head start to droop with fatigue and jerks it upright, keeping it from slamming completely onto his desk. He winces as he feels his stomach release another round of grumbling and squeezes it to keep it quiet, even though it won’t do him any good.

He ignores the more questioning looks from his peers but he doesn’t miss the sympathetic one his best friend is giving him from the next desk over.

Peter looks away almost immediately. He already feels embarrassed enough for his obnoxious stomach, he can’t stand someone looking as if he’s a charity case.

Which is exactly why he hasn’t told Tony about this either.

He jerks his head up yet again after feeling it droop for a second time and stares at the clock once more.

Five minutes, just five more minutes, Spider-Man.

The teenager misses his masked alter ego. He hasn’t been able to don the red and blue as much lately for a number of reasons such as homework and decathlon.

The most annoying one being that he can’t patrol but for so long without Karen taking notice of his decreasing glucose levels which she would then send to Tony and the last thing he wants is for his billionaire hero to find out about his money troubles.

Peter takes a deep breath, constantly reminding himself to keep his eyes open, damn it, he refuses to fall asleep four minutes before the last bell.

He’ll sleep after he eats all of his hero’s food.

Because when he stays with Tony, he pigs out, eating enough food to feed a “whole army” his mentor has jokingly said.

And since Peter is planning to stay the night, he relishes in going back home that Saturday with a more than satisfied stomach.

Well, for a few hours anyway, until he gets to what his current situation is now.

The boy looks back at the clock.

Two minutes left, hell fucking yes.

God, he needs carbs if he has any hope of staying awake on his way to the tower.

He just needs food in general.

Any food…allllll the food.

The bell rings at long last, leaving Peter wishing he could race out the doors but he’s too sluggish to exert that much energy. Again, he ignores his friend’s pitying looks as he gets his things before walking as fast as he can to his father figure’s car.

The second he gets in and gives his mentor a tired smile, the volcano that is his stomach erupts in yet another growl, announcing the hunger it so desperately craves.

Tony giggles as he makes his way to exit the parking lot, “Somebody’s hungry, huh?”

You have no idea.

His protege sheepishly giggles himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach once again, “Uh yeah, sorry.”

“Only you would say sorry about being hungry,” the mechanic says with a snort, “McDonald’s drive-thru sound good to you?”

“Please, I can taste the Big Mac already.”

“How many do you want?”

“Uh,” Peter holds back as slight anxiety sets in, “Two?”

As they stop at a red light, his mentor gives him a deadpan look, obviously not believing him, and repeats, “Pete, how many do you want?”

“Four?” Said kid answers in a questioning tone, covering himself in case Tony thinks the number is too high. He then adds on, “All with fries? Please?”

Tony smiles down at his kid, ruffling his hair while keeping one hand on the steering wheel, “How many times have I told you that you don’t need to be shy around me when it comes to eating?”

“I know,” his interns says, slumping his shoulders but taking full advantage of this “curls massage” to keep his mind off his hunger, “I just feel bad -”

“Don’t,” the older man says, firm but keeping a gentle undertone, “If you’re hungry, you’re getting food, that’s the rule when you’re around me. It doesn’t matter if you want to eat the entire damn cow, you’re getting it.”

Peter feels a warmth filter through him at that, leaning closer to his father figure and smiling serenely at the hair ruffling, squeezing his stomach as it continues to gurgle periodically.

Tony lets go when the light turns green, his attention back on the road, “Didya even eat today, good Lord, kid.”

Barely.

“Yes,” the tyke responds, drawing out the syllable, “If I didn’t, you’d have to carry me to the tower.”

“That’s a terrifying image.”

“Relax, Mr. Stark, I’m more careful than that,” Peter responds with a cheeky smile.

It’s true, he thinks. Despite the constant hunger, he’s always been careful, never letting it get to the point of him not functioning as a human being should.

Yes, he’s hungry all the time, but not that hungry.

It’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiine.

“You lost me at ‘careful’, does the word ‘Vulture’ mean anything to you?”

“Hey, I stopped him, didn’t I?”

Tony rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh, “Yeah, touché.”

Peter snickers in brief victory as they pull up to the drive-thru ordering station, “Hey, I may be clumsy but I’m still careful.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” his mentor responds with his own snicker before lowering his window, turning towards the microphone. After the usual polite greetings, he says his order, making sure to order for himself as well, “Five Big Macs, five large fries, a Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, and a side salad.”

“Ranch dressing okay?” The fast-food employee asks as Peter gives his father figure a look of pure confusion.

“Yeah, sure.”

“We’ll have your total for you at the first window.”

“Thanks,” Tony says, driving around the curve to the upcoming window.

Peter asks, “You got a salad? At McDonald’s?”

“No, I got it for you, you really think I’m gonna let you eat four Big Macs and no greens?”

“There’s lettuce on the burgers -”

“Nice try.”

“Jeez, ‘Helicopter Mom’, much?”

“You’ll thank me later when your stomach doesn’t hate you.”

For once.

Peter rolls his eyes as his stomach continues acting like a bear, looking on as his hero gives the cashier his credit card.

Eh, it’s more food, I’ll take it.

The second the boy takes his first bite of that heavenly, artery-filling burger, it takes all of his strength not to guzzle it down in five bites or less. He’s unfortunately learned from experience that not eating much for a week and then consuming enough food in one sitting to feed his entire apartment building equates to seeing all of that food again in a not so appetizing manner.

So by the time they get to the tower, only one burger is consumed and about half of an order of fries, yet the spiderling’s stomach is still growling. They settle in at the kitchen counter, with Tony digging into his own burger and fries, making light chatter with Peter unashamedly talking with his mouth full.

That Friday night and Saturday morning are spent in bliss, in more ways than one. The two heroes did their usual thing in the lab, Tony helped his kid with some of his homework, kicked back on the couch, and the tyke’s stomach was never not satisfied.

If only he could feel this way all the time.

The older man actually made dinner that night and told Peter he can take home the leftovers for him and May.

The teen’s heart did what felt like an actual backflip. He gratefully accepted the leftovers with absolute no intentions on sharing it with his aunt, instead his mind going into “math-mode” on how he can ration this throughout the week.

And when Happy drops him off that Saturday afternoon, he’s filled with the most energy he’s had since the previous time with his mentor, damn near skipping to his room in excitement to put on his suit and soar through the skies.

Until he sees May in the kitchen sporting a look of grim disappointment, and his whole demeanor falls immediately.

What happened? I haven’t done anything lately…at least I don’t think I have.

Hold up, did somebody die?

“Um,” Peter starts, gripping the straps on his backpack and praying his aunt can’t smell the leftover pot roast, “May, is everything okay?”

The nurse sighs despairingly, doing nothing to help her nephew’s case, “No,” she taps the barstool next to her, swinging it out, “We need to talk.”

The teenager’s anxiety spikes instantly.

Must she say the most horrible phrase in the English language?

Peter carefully sets his backpack on the couch before walking over and sitting on the designated stool, “Uh…what is it?”

“This,” his aunt slides a piece of paper over to him, “Progress reports were released yesterday and I didn’t check the portal until this morning. Explain this to me.”

Wait, progress reports? School isn’t even an issue, what the hell?

He looks down at the report and studies his grades, most of which are “A’s”, other than a “B-plus” that ruins the streak.

Fuck English and those fucking essays.

And there, at the bottom of the report, is his grade in AP History.

A “D.”

A big, fat, ugly “D.”

“What the hell?” Peter whispers in shock. This isn’t possible, he thinks, he’s never gotten anything below a “B” in, well, anything. School has always been his strong suit.

While yes, there were a couple of history quizzes he did less than stellar on, but shit happens, it certainly wouldn’t cause his grade to jump to a fucking “D.”

“There has to be a mistake,” he exclaims, still staring at the report with wide eyes, “There’s no way -”

“Really? No way?” May counters, voice a mixture of both anger and disappointment.

Making Peter want to crawl under a rock and die.

His aunt goes on, “Read the teacher’s comment.”

I don’t wanna.

The boy swallows a lump in his throat, reluctantly flipping over the page. He skims down until he sees the one for history and reads the comment.

Mr. Parker is no doubt a gifted student but he has difficulty with paying attention in class. While he does well on the homework, he lacks applying what he’s learned towards the tests and quizzes, both of which carry heavier percentages than the homework itself. I suggest taking more time to study, pay more attention in class, and, if possible, seek a tutor.

Peter scans over that comment who knows how many times.

Okay…maybe he’s done less than stellar on more than just a couple of quizzes.

How did he not see this, how in the fuck did he not know how bad his grade dropped?

The boy feels his stomach gurgle as it digests the last of his lunch that he had before he left to come back home.

Then it clicks.

Shit.

By the last class of the day, the food he’d eat at lunch has long since digested and his body is already begging for more.

So much so that he loses focus on the class and instead does what he can to keep himself sane until he can eat more food.

And the only reason why he’s able to do well on the homework is exactly that, he does it at home, where he’s hungry, but it’s bearable enough to where he can still concentrate.

At school, where he feels like his stomach might actually fall out of his body, leaves little room for concentration.

Peter looks back at his guardian with wide eyes, “I can explain.”

“Really? ‘Cuz I’m dying to hear it.” May lets out a light, humorless laugh, “I just, I just can’t believe we’re having a conversation about this. School was something I never had to worry about with you, what gives? Are you and Ned passing notes? Is there a girl you like that’s distracting you -”

“May, oh my God, I’m not ten,” her nephew says, annoyance in his tone, “And there’s no girl, for the record.”

“Then what is it, Peter?” May counters, getting annoyed herself, “Do you not understand the material, do you need a tutor -”

“No, no I don’t need a tutor. Look, I’m sorry, I’ll bring it up by the time report cards come -”

“You really think it’s that much of an easy fix?”

“Yes, look, May, it’s just a progress report, it doesn’t mean anything -”

“Oh, really now?” She asks, raising her voice slightly, “If they don’t mean anything, then why do they exist, huh? How would you feel if this was your report card? You’d lose your scholarship, Peter.”

Fuck, the fucking scholarship.

The teenager puts his head in his hands, his heart feeling heavy at the thought of being forced to leave Midtown, “Pretty shitty, yeah. May, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it got this bad, I promise I’ll bring it up. There’s a test next week, I’ll make sure to study for it.”

“Oh, you certainly will, no question, because until I see this ‘D’ disappear,” May hesitates before she says, “No more Spider-Man.”

“No!” The fifteen-year-old exclaims, head snapping right to his guardian, “May, please, please don’t take Spider-Man away from me. He’s what keeps me sane, c’mon, please.”

“He’s why your grade dropped, isn’t it?” The nurse asks, her only redeeming factor is that she doesn’t seem to like punishing him any more than he does, “That’s it, you’re too excited to be Spider-Man that you can’t concentrate on the class -”

“No, that’s not it! -”

“Then what is? Peter, help me understand ‘cuz I don’t know what the hell this is.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t get enough to eat.

He could say it, right here right now, he could say it. He would get to eat, and he could still be Spider-Man.

But May would feel awful.

And he can’t stand to see her more upset than she already is.

“You’re right,” Peter forces out, mentally kicking himself, “Yeah, it’s Spider-Man,” he concludes brokenly.

“That settles it then,” May confirms, voice small and filled with remorse, “No Spider-Man until you get your report card. And in three weeks, if I see anything less than a ‘C-plus’, it’s gonna be a long while before you see that suit again, you understand?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, the boy slowly nods his head, “This is so not fair -”

“It’s not up for discussion. Dinner’ll be in a few hours,” his guardian says, getting out of her chair to start chopping vegetables.

Peter quickly gets out of his own chair and gets his things before dragging himself to his room, the last thing he wants to do is look at his aunt let alone talk to her.

He gets to his room and slams the door, dropping his things and plopping onto his bed face down. He smushes his face on his pillow and screams into it as loud as he can without alerting May before slumping in defeat.

Words can’t express how mad he is at his guardian but it’s nowhere near how mad the kid is at himself.

How stupid was he? How did he not notice how bad he’s doing in the class? How could he have let it get this far?

And now there’s no more Spider-Man to at least soften the blow.

As much as he knows he needs to study, he doesn’t, he’d rather just lay in his bed and wallow in self-pity for the next week or so.

That’s just what he does until May calls out that dinner is ready. Peter wants to rebel by skipping dinner but realistically, he’d pass out if he doesn’t eat, and he wants to save those leftovers for as long as he can.

Dinner is the epitome of awkward.

Not much small talk is made as the kid eats his food as fast as humanly possible, afterward spending the rest of the night drowning out his thoughts through YouTube videos before succumbing himself to torture and digging out his history book.

No way is he letting the late 1800’s ruin his double life and his future.

The following week, he gets to work.

Unfortunately, his teacher doesn’t offer extra credit but he did say that if Peter continues doing well on the homework, studies hard for the upcoming quizzes and test, along with the paper due at the end of the month, the teen could have the potential to bring his grade up to a “B-minus”, maybe even a “B” if he aces them.

As long as his report card is above a “C-plus”, he doesn’t give a shit what it is.

The hero decides not to eat the extra food Ned gives him right at lunch and instead scarfs it down right before history. It doesn’t fill him up by any means but his stomach won’t sound like a thunderstorm either. Then when he gets home, he eats some of Tony’s leftovers, leaving his hunger manageable enough to make it to dinner.

It works for that week, to the teen’s pleasant surprise. Who knew that eating can make a person more focused and actually pay attention?

With this new routine, not only does the boy continue doing well on the homework but he damn near aces both of his next quizzes with a “B-plus” and “A-minus” respectively. The higher his grades get, the more confident he feels, he can almost taste the sweet freedom of swinging through the air and becoming one with the wonders of Queens.

Hell yes, Peter thinks, he’ll be back to donning the red and blue in no time.

However, that second week proves to be tougher than the first.

For one, Peter finished the leftovers; he didn’t want to, but he knew the food would eventually go bad if he kept it for much longer so he bit the bullet. Pair that with his dinner that night, it made him the most satisfied he'd felt since that waiter at the Thai restaurant gave May an extra plate of food for free.

God, why can’t that happen again?

He sticks to the same routine at school but when he gets home, he limits himself to a small snack to keep him satisfied until dinner.

But that has yet to work.

The teenager is having a hard time concentrating on his homework. The calculus that he normally breezes through is taking him twice as long to complete, same with physics, and he’s forced to put off history until after dinner, where his stomach doesn’t feel like it’s falling out and giving him enough energy to finish it with a passing grade.

Which is where Peter is finding himself now the night before that dreaded history test.

He huffs in frustration as he stares down at his dense brick of a history textbook, words blurring together as he reads over the same page for the fourth fucking time - and maybe the information might actually stay in his brain for once - and starving despite fixing himself a sandwich earlier.

Maybe his dinner should’ve had more sustenance than that but what the hell, he doesn’t know how to cook and May’s going to be at work until like midnight, he had to fix something.

Even though it’s only eight o’clock, the kid’s eyes are drooping with fatigue, resisting the urge to fall asleep on his book and thus making his chance of passing his test get slimmer and slimmer.

That lousy sandwich didn’t do shit.

Peter lightly slaps his cheek to wake himself up and he continues reading through that same page…again.

Why can’t I learn history dates as good as math formulas, this shit’s exhausting.

He studies as much as he can, going from the textbook to his chicken-scratch notes and now graded past homework and quizzes. Yet the more he tries to memorize political figures, the more he focuses on the food that’s in each and every one of the kitchen cabinets.

As if reading his mind once again, his stomach gurgles with hunger.

Okay, I think I saw another apple in the fridge. I mean, it can’t hurt.

Oh my God, and there’s a bag of chips we haven’t opened yet, maybe May won’t notice if I eat a few…or the whole fucking bag.

Maybe she’ll forget she bought them, no harm, no foul.

The hero’s mouth starts salivating at that. He can’t keep torturing himself like this, he has to get something to eat. Just as he’s about to do so, he hears a scream from outside his window.

“No!”

Peter’s head jerks to the window behind him, eyebrows narrowing in curiosity.

He’s normally pretty good at tuning out the murmurs that flood the mean streets of Queens…but that sounded close.

Too close.

Like right-outside-his-apartment-building close.

His worry grows when he hears another scream that sounds like it’s coming from the same person.

“Let go of me!”

Not just a person.

A kid.

Peter is out of his chair in less than a second. He opens his window and peeks out from the corner so he can’t be seen. After a few seconds of searching, his eyes land on a scuffle across the street between a middle-aged man with a black hoodie covered face and a little boy who can’t be older than eight or ten years old.

“You’re not my dad!” The boy cries, trying to get out of the man’s grasp.

“Shit,” Peter whispers, “Shit, shit, shit.”

The physiological need now forgotten, the hero races to his closet while he’s hurriedly taking off his clothes, putting on his suit in record time, and keeping a close ear on the scary situation at hand.

Okay, save the kid, come back, save the kid, come back…

He knows he’s breaking his aunt’s trust - which is saying something considering he kept this identity from her for almost a year - but he can’t just sit here and study shit that’s already happened while a child is being kidnapped.

The boy hears the usual greetings from Karen after putting on the mask, looking out the window once more before sneaking out of it, climbing the last few stories so he can scope the situation from the rooftop. He hears the little boy yell out again, “Let go of me!” but the kidnapper keeps dragging him along, mumbling some shit that Peter doesn’t find relevant to comprehend.

The teen swings to the next building, following the kidnapper and the poor little kid. He tells his AI, “Karen, activate web grenades.”

“Web grenades activated,” she responds, her usual robotic manner sounding out of place given the circumstances.

The spiderling swings to a building ahead of the criminal and waits patiently from the rooftop, web shooter aimed at the guy.

Keep walking, keep walking…aaaaand YEET.

He presses the button and a whole net of web fluid goes flying, trapping the kidnapper and hitting him against the wall of a closed bank. Unfortunately, the kid’s left hand got caught up in it and stuck around the web as well.

And he starts wailing.

Peter webs his way over in seconds, ignoring any bullshit the criminal is shouting, and lands in front of the boy.

He starts speaking words of reassurances, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as possible, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I gotcha, you’re okay.” The teen whispers to his AI, “Karen, call the police.”

“Already in pursuit, Peter.”

“Thanks.” Peter uses his super strength to tear the boy’s hand free, applying a small amount of web fluid to keep the net intact. He kneels in front of the kid and asks, keeping his voice light, “Hey, I’m Spider-Man. Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

The boy sniffles, wiping away a few tears with his sleeve. He holds out his left hand as he says shakily, “Just m-my-my, my hand…he was, he was holding it too tight.”

The teenager sighs in relief, thanking God that nothing worse happened. He ignores his stomach’s occasional growls as he asks, “I’m sorry he hurt your hand, buddy. Do you know where your parents are?”

The boy hastily shakes his head, eyes widening in fear, “My-My mom, we were walking and-and there were all these people and, and I-I let go of Mommy’s hand but I didn’t mean to!” His panic increases the more he talks, “Someone, someone uh, someone bumped into me, it was an accident -”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, these things happen sometimes. So you got separated from your mom and that’s how you got lost?”

The little boy nods his head, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes, “And, and then, and then he,” he points to his attempted kidnapper, “Grabbed my hand and wanted to take me away.”

“He’s lying,” the offender says from the other side of the web net. Without even looking at the guy, Peter shoots a web at his face, successfully shutting him up.

The hero hears sirens in the distance and smiles from behind the mask, “The police are coming soon and they’re gonna help you find your mom, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“J-Josh.”

“Well, Josh,” the teen holds out his fist as a police car turns the corner, “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” Josh smiles as he gives his hero a soft fist bump, biting his lip as he asks, “Can you stay until I find my mom?”

Another stomach growl escapes the spiderling but again, he pushes it down, “Of course, buddy.”

Law enforcement finally arrives and a female officer approaches the boy, taking his hand as the young genius stands up. His anxiety starts to rise as he starts to feel unexpectedly dizzy and he’s forced to put a hand on the wall to steady him.

Karen says into his ear, “Glucose levels decreasing rapidly, I suggest you seek appropriate nutrition or I can contact Mr. Stark -”

“No,” Peter commands, “Look, I’ll eat something after we find his mom, okay, just don’t tell Mr. Stark -”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Josh asks, turning around to look at the hero in confusion.

“Uh, just, um,” the other boy stutters, spinning around and again, having to use the wall to steady him, “Uh, Bluetooth.”

The little kid raises an eyebrow but simply shrugs and continues walking away, still holding the officer’s hand.

Peter uses his super strength to free the criminal and his mouth only for the guy to be arrested by two other officers. As they’re walking to a second police cruiser, the kid finds himself having to take short breaths and are his eyes deceiving him or is everything going suddenly blurry?

I thought my powers fixed my eyesight.

Karen again whispers in her owner’s ear, “Glucose levels are drastically low. Willing to contact Mr. Stark -”

“Please, Karen, no,” the spider-boy sharply whispers back, “I literally live here, I’ll eat something when I get back.”

“My concern isn’t when you’ll eat, but for if you can make it back at all. I have no choice -”

“Yes you do, don’t call him.”

Peter walks over to Josh, seeing his kidnapper being handcuffed and put in a car from the corner of his eye, albeit a blurry one, and says, “How you doing, little buddy?”

“Great! They found my mom, she called the police after I got lost and they’re bringing her here.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s great,” the hero says with as much energy as he can pull together, “I have to go now so you be safe, okay?”

“I’m never letting go of Mommy’s hand ever again.”

God, they’re so innocent.

“That’s good, good lesson,” Peter takes a couple more deep breaths as he stands up, ignoring the lightheadedness swirling in his brain, and with a friendly, “Have a good night”, he swings as fast as he can to his apartment.

Food, food, food, food, food…

The teenager sluggishly climbs back through his window and takes off his mask, swaying on his feet as his fingers start to shake. He starts to head over to the kitchen but grips onto the ladder of his bunk bed to let his vision catch up to him.

But then he looks at his bed.

His wonderful, heavenly, comfortable bed.

God, he’s so tired.

No, I gotta eat something.

However, he inches closer and closer to his bed, his world literally swirling around him in such a way that he’s amazed he can still stand up.

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

He’ll just eat something when he wakes up.

No harm, no foul.

Peter then gets into position and starts to belly flop onto his bed.

I’ll just take a nap riiiiiiiight here -

He is out cold before his head even hits the pillow.

“Boss, Mr. Parker is in distress.”

Tony’s head snaps up from the TV, gaze going to the ceiling, “What happened? He’s not supposed to be Spider-Manning.”

“Sending Karen’s information to your phone now.”

The man’s phone vibrates on the end table barely a second later. He hurriedly grabs it, reading what’s on the screen.

“Peter Parker’s glucose levels are devastatingly low. His vitals indicate that he is suffering from malnutrition and needs to seek medical attention immediately -”

“FRIDAY, call a suit,” Tony exclaims as he’s getting off of the couch, waiting to hear the rest while on his way to his kid.

“Yes, boss.”

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?” Tony mumbles as he’s racing to the lab. In no time but it feels like too much time, he punches in his code and walks into the room, instantly getting into his suit, “FRIDAY, read me the rest of what Karen sent, put Peter’s vitals up on the screen.”

“Yes, boss, tracking his location now.”

The hero is out and flying to the location on the GPS only to see that the destination is at…the Parkers’ apartment.

The kid isn’t out.

And Tony has no idea if that’s a good thing or not.

Now knowing where he’s going, he turns off the GPS, trying not to let any panic set in at the boy’s ever slowly decreasing levels.

Or at the open window leading into the kid’s bedroom.

The billionaire stops right outside the window, carefully slipping inside and lifting up his faceplate.

He sees the tyke out cold on the bottom bunk of his bed, his left hand gripping his mask and a small puddle of drool next to his mouth. Tony would’ve thought this was adorable if he wasn’t so worried.

The older man kneels next to his kid and gives him a slight nudge, “C’mon, Pete, it’s time to wake up.” He nudges him a little more.

And a little more.

Tony gets more desperate as his anxiety skyrockets, “Peter, this isn’t funny, c’mon, wake up, we gotta get your idiotic ass fed yesterday.”

But Peter makes no notion of any plans to get up. The only way his mentor knows he’s still alive is by his vitals FRIDAY is whispering to him and the boy’s back rising and falling to the tune of his breathing.

“Kid, you’re really about to make me fucking do this,” Tony says with a sigh, grabbing the teen’s mask and putting if over his head to hide his identity, “FRIDAY, alert medbay, tell ‘em we’re on our way.”

“Roger that, boss.”

The mechanic slips his nameplate back over his face as he picks up his kid, positioning him like a toddler and sitting him on his arm, cupping the boy’s head to keep it close to his neck, “Might need two beds if I get a fucking panic attack over this,” he mumbles.

“Roger that, boss,” FRIDAY responds, not noticing the sarcasm.

“I didn’t mean - whatever,” Tony turns on his repulsors so he’s now hovering over the floor and with one leg at a time, he oh so gently flies out the window, not even bothering to close it as his suit takes off at full speed, determined to get this kid some help before…

He refuses to think about the rest of that sentence.

The entire flight back to the tower, Tony keeps a tight grip on his kid, damn near smushing Peter’s head against his neck. The man says occasional words of reassurance even though he knows no one is listening, “You’re gonna be okay, kiddo, you understand me? You have to be okay so I can whoop your ass later.”

Honestly, he’s not sure if he's saying this more to the kid or to himself.

He has superpowers, of course everything’s gonna be okay.

Because I said so, damn it.

Peter comes to, finding himself in a hospital gown on an equally uncomfortable bed, a bunch of wires attached to his left hand and a remote on the table to his right, assuming to adjust the bed and TV.

“What?” He mutters, taking in his surroundings. The room is a standard size with a marker board stating the healthcare professionals’ names, a portable cart containing whatever necessities the patient and doctor might need, along with an attached bathroom and window with a view of New York City.

What the fuck am I doing here?

He shifts on his bed in an effort to sit up but he accidentally hits something with his right leg.

The spider-boy tilts his head in confusion only to gasp at the sight of his father figure sitting in a chair next to him, fast asleep with his head on his kid’s bed, resting it on his crossed arms.

Peter can’t help but smile at the sight of Iron Man snoring but that doesn’t answer his question. He looks back down at the wires on his hand and follows them up to an IV bag with the label “glucose.”

Wait, glucose?

Everything hits the hero like a sack of potatoes as his mind takes him back to the last thing he remembers: the hunger, the little boy, Karen constantly telling him about his levels…

Deciding to take a nap.

And he wakes up here.

“Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit.”

The teenager jumps as he hears random beeps on some machine to his right. He feels his heart racing with panic and his legs start restlessly jerking from underneath his thin blankets, thus accidentally waking up his mentor.

Tony’s head snaps up when he feels his arms being nudged for about the fifth damn time. After blinking out of his stupor, he puts his focus on his frightened kid, “Peter, hey, hey,” he grabs hold of the tyke’s right hand and gives it a heartfelt squeeze, “Kid, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now -” he cuts himself off at noticing his words aren’t doing shit and his other hand goes the young genius’s shoulder, “Peter.”

The child stops abruptly, looking right at his hero. Said man gives him a reassuring smile and comfortingly rubs his shoulder to calm him, “You’re okay, buddy, take a breather.”

“Wha-what happened?” Peter asks between deep breaths, doing as his father figure says and trying to settle down, “Is May okay -”

“She’s fine,” Tony confirms, releasing his protege’s shoulder. He can feel the kid’s iron-grip in his hand and makes no move to let go, “She was here earlier but I made her go home for a bit and rest up. I’d rather there’d be one adult with a sore back than two.”

“Wait, how long was I out?”

“Well, considering it’s now,” the billionaire takes a brief look at his watch, “One PM, about fifteen hours, give or take. You had one hell of a nap, if I do say so myself.”

“That sounds like an amazing nap, I wish I savored it,” the teen replies, “But what happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Tony responds, face looking upset, “Why don’t you tell me why your levels were so low that I had to come get you in my damn suit and bring you back here?”

Peter sighs in frustration, “Glucose levels -”

“That’s right. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um,” the spiderling starts, trying to be as vague as possible, “Dinner.”

Tony raises a confused eyebrow, “How much did you eat at dinner?”

“The normal amount,” Peter answers with a shrug.

Please don’t see through my bullshit.

“And you didn’t eat anything later on? You always have to eat something before bed.”

“I, uh,” the boy lets go of their grip, feeling his hand start to tremble uncontrollably. He brings it to his lap and puts it with his other hand under the covers, “Forgot.”

“You forgot to eat,” Tony says, face the epitome of unamused, “How do you forget to eat, your stomach practically screams at ya.”

“I just-I just did, okay, I’m sorry -”

“Oh really, you’re sorry? This ‘forgetfulness’ put you in the damn hospital, ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it. I want you to tell me right now what the hell happened. Why did you let it get this bad?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Peter retorts, getting pissed at the man’s tone, “I didn’t want to end up like this, I thought I had it handled -”

“What handled, Peter?” At hearing no answer, the billionaire continues, “I already know about you Spider-Manning when you’re not supposed to -”

“It was one time! I couldn’t just let a kid get kidnapped cuz Spider-Man got grounded.”

Tony’s eyes soften at that, “Was that what happened last night?”

“Yeah, I heard it right outside the apartment building.” The teen’s voice lowers, “I was studying and I was about to get something to eat when I heard the kid scream, I-I couldn’t just let that happen. I was just gonna save the kid and come right back, I didn’t know it got that bad.”

“How hungry were you?”

“What?”

“How hungry were you?” The mechanic asks, repeating the question, “‘Cuz if you were just hungry, your levels wouldn’t’ve gotten that low. Kid, you were way past starving.”

The kid looks down in shame, feeling his cheeks heat up and he can only imagine how red they must look.

Tony then asks, trying to keep his tone as gentle as he can, “What is it that you’re so afraid to tell me, Peter?”

Peter looks up at him with sad eyes, biting his lip.

Fuck, he’s seeing through my bullshit.

Seeing no chance at a loophole, he knows he has to bite the bullet…but how does he go about telling billionaire Tony Stark that he’s not eating because his aunt can’t afford more food?

Said man asks, keeping his same tone, “Why are you not eating?”

“I am eating -”

“But clearly not enough, why? When you’re with me, you eat ‘til the cows come home - oh shit,” Tony cuts himself off, covering his mouth as his eyes widen in fear.

Peter’s eyes narrow in utmost confusion, “What, what is it?”

“You’re not eating as much as you should,” the older genius mumbles, trying to piece all this together, “And you pig out when you’re here.” He turns to his kid, sporting a scared expression, “Do you throw it all up later?”

That makes the other’s skin prickle into goosebumps, his own eyes bugging out, “What?!”

“It all makes sense now,” Tony states, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms in concentration, “You eat like a horse when you’re with me, but I just brought you here because you’re not eating enough at your place. You already threw it up when you saved that kid, didn’t you -”

“Oh my God!” Peter shouts, the insinuation sinking in, “You think I have an eating disorder?”

“What the hell else is it, Peter? No wonder you were scared to tell me -”

“No, Mr. Stark, it’s not that, I promise it’s not that.” The kid swallows a lump in his throat as he briefly purses his lips, finally giving in, “You don’t understand.”

“Try me -”

“I’m serious, you won’t.” Peter props his elbows on his knees above the covers, putting his head in his hands, “And I don’t expect you to understand.”

Tony leans forward, crossing his arms next to Peter’s outer thigh, his face unreadable, “Then make me understand,” he says slowly.

After a long deep sigh, the boy finally spits it out, head still in his hands, “I don’t get enough to eat.”

“What?”

Peter lifts his head up, resting his hands in his lap, “I don’t get enough to eat. At home, I mean.”

“May doesn’t feed you enough -”

“No, she does, it’s not May’s fault. She feeds me enough food…for if I didn’t have powers.”

It takes a few seconds but the hypothetical lightbulb goes off over the man’s head, “May doesn’t know you have to eat more.”

The spider-boy silently nods his head.

Tony asks, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

The tyke’s shoulders slump with dread. The guy who can buy fucking Google is about to hear his stupid working-class money troubles.

He then says, eyes looking everywhere but at his mentor, “‘Cuz she can’t afford it.”

“Wait, what?”

“She can’t afford it. I don’t know how she manages to buy enough for if I was just a normal human being, with all the bills and her loans and everything. She can’t buy more food for me, Mr. Stark. I’d love to get a job and help her out but I’m only fifteen -”

“Stop, stop right there,” Tony cuts him off, looking even more confused than he was earlier, “That’s what this is about? You don’t want her to buy more food?”

Peter looks up at the older man, looking offended, “It’s not that, I’d love for her to buy more food but she can’t. I’ve seen the bills when she thinks I’m not looking, or her student loans she’s behind on. God, if it wasn’t for my scholarship I wouldn’t even be going to Midtown ‘cuz we can’t afford it.” His voice lowers as humiliation sets in, “Which is why I have to get my history grade up.” His eyes grow to the size of his head, “Oh my God, my test is today -”

“Don’t worry about it, I called the school this morning, you can make it up next week.”

“Next week? But it’s Thursday -”

“Yeah, you’re gonna need more than one day to recuperate after all of this,” Tony says, slightly annoyed, “Why didn’t you tell me you guys are having money issues, I can help you out -”

Peter cuts him off with a humorless laugh, “You really think that’s gonna solve everything?”

“If it means to get you to eat more, it absolutely will,” the billionaire responds, raising his voice in offense.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it -”

“Then make me get it, for God’s sakes, you need money and I can give it to you -”

“We’re not a charity case, don’t you understand?” The child exclaims, “We’re doing fine, we don’t need help -”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing -”

“But we are!” Peter sighs deeply in frustration, “You’re not the first person to offer us money, okay? You don’t know how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“For someone to try and help you out by giving you money. It sounds great on paper but you’ve never had someone give you this-this ‘look’ of pity that makes you feel this big,” Peter shapes his thumb and index finger into the shape of a “C”, with both fingertips almost touching, “All because you’re not making that much money. I just, I don’t wanna put Aunt May through that again. She’s proud of what she does, she loves what she does, she loves helping people. I don’t want anyone belittling her again.”

That makes Tony pause.

While yes, no shit he knows the vast majority of people don’t have his kind of money but most of the people in his life over the years only hung out with him because of his money. He’s never thought about the opposite end of that coin, how someone is proud of making a living, especially being in a profession that they love.

And that as long as they can provide for them and their family, they don’t need to be a billionaire to be happy.

“You really love May, don’t you?” Tony finally asks, a proud smile spreading across his face.

“More than anything,” his protege says with a nod of his head, “So please don’t tell her -”

“You know I can’t do that -”

“Please -”

“No, Pete, while your intentions are good, I can’t let you keep starving yourself like this. Who knows what would’ve happened if you weren’t in your suit, if I didn’t get that notification from Karen.” The older hero grabs hold of his mentee’s hand again, “Hey look at me.”

Peter reluctantly looks up at his father figure, his shame slowly but surely ebbing away.

Tony gently his thumb over the tyke’s knuckles, giving him a reassuring smile, “You deserve to eat. We’re gonna tell May and we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

An unexpected third voice erupts from the doorway, “Tell May what?”

Both heroes’ heads snap to the front to see the woman herself walk in, closing the door behind her. She immediately rushes to the other side of her kid, giving him a hug, “How you doing, sweetie, you gave us quite a scare there.”

Peter hugs her back letting go of Tony’s hand, “I’m better now, thanks to Mr. Stark.”

“It’s nothing, bud,” the mechanic says, comfortingly rubbing the tyke’s knee, “I’m just glad I can help.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Tony,” May says when they separate, sitting down in her own chair opposite the older man, “I know I said that like a million times, but really, I owe you one -”

“You don’t owe me a thing, not where the kid is concerned.” Tony turns to his intern, “But you actually came at the perfect time ‘cuz Pete here has something he’s gotta tell you.”

“Oh?” May turns to her nephew, grabbing hold of his left hand, being mindful of the wires connected to him, “Is it about what happened, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Yeah,” Peter replies, defeatedly, “I’m sorry I went out as Spider-Man but I had a good reason.”

“We’ll talk about that later, I’m just glad you’re okay. What happened, sweetie, you’ve been eating just like you always have, what was the problem?”

“That’s the thing, May,” the boy starts, scratching the back of his neck, “There’s something I didn’t tell you about me after I got my powers.” He doesn’t wait for her response, “I have to eat more than I used to to keep up with them. I have I guess what you call an ‘enhanced metabolism’, meaning I have to eat more than everyone else.”

The nurse’s eyes squint in confusion before her eyebrows raise as everything sets in, “Oh my God,” she says, leaning back in her chair and hand covering her face, not unlike what Tony did earlier, “So all this time you were starving yourself?”

“Well -”

“Why, Peter?! Why the hell would you do that?”

“‘Cuz I know you wouldn’t be able to afford it, okay?” Peter cries, “I didn’t want you to struggle any more than you already do -”

“Stop,” May cuts him off with another hug, her eyes glistening with unshed tears behind her glasses, “Stop, baby, stop.” She lets go and looks right in his eyes, “Don’t ever pull that shit with me again, you understand?”

Peter nods his head, letting a small grin escape him at hearing a muffled snicker from Tony, “I promise. Um,” he takes a deep breath as his aunt settles back into her chair, “It’s also why my history grade is as bad as it is.”

“What?” Both adults ask at the same time.

“Uh,” the teen starts, fidgeting with his top blanket, “So the free lunch I get at school doesn’t fill me up obviously and Ned sometimes brings extra food and that helps…for a while.”

“I know where this is going,” he hears Tony mumble.

“Yeah, and history is my last class of the day so by the time that comes around, I’m really, really hungry so I have a hard time concentrating. In my defense though, it’s boring as shit.”

Both adults can’t help but giggle, “Yeah, history wasn’t my strong suit either,” Tony says, coming to his kid’s defense.

“Peter, this is why you need to tell me things,” May says, “You still understand why I punished you, though -”

“Yeah, even though I hated it. Is Spider-Man ungrounded now?”

“You get rested up and eat for once and we’ll talk.”

“Deal,” the kid confirms with a grunt.

As if on cue, his stomach releases an ever so slight gurgle. As much as the IV bag has helped, he needs actual food sustenance.

Tony says, pressing the button to call a nurse, “And on that note, let’s get you patched up and we’ll order in, how ‘bout that?”

May cuts in, “And you can have allll the orange chicken your tummy desires.”

Peter gives them both a timid smile, wincing as another growl rolls in his abdomen, “That sounds amazing.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m a failure.”

“Kid, you know you’re not, it’s just a few dates and inventions.”

“You make the Industrial Revolution sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

It is now the following week, the day before Peter’s makeup history test, and the father-son duo are in the lab after school. Instead of actually working on anything, Tony is helping his kid study.

If only he can get Peter to put the material in that hard head of his.

“You get into that mindset, and it will be the easiest thing in the world, bud.”

“Easy for you to say,” Peter whines, “Your scholarship’s not riding on this.”

Aw, how cute that he thinks I won’t help him out.

“Forget about the scholarship, you’re already stressed as it is. Focus on the triple cheeseburger you’re gonna get after this thing is finally over.”

“The two triple cheeseburgers,” the kid shyly elaborates.

Ever since the tyke dropped that bombshell about him freaking starving himself, things have changed. For one, May - refusing Tony’s help - is buying more groceries and always makes sure her kid gets a lunch in addition to the free one that’s available. Whenever Peter stays with his father figure, things stay the same except now when Tony makes dinner, he purposely makes more for leftovers.

And now, the man is about to present his kid with another way to help him out.

“Pete, I think your brain might actually explode, let’s take a break for a sec, huh?”

After releasing a long, dramatic sigh, Peter drops his pencil, “Y’know what? Fuck history.”

Tony can’t help but bust out laughing, “Kid, you know why you have to learn it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it’s not like I’m gonna be a historian or anything.” The teen gets up and walks over to where his father figure is standing, “Whatcha wanna work on?”

“Actually, I want you to do this for me first.” The billionaire takes a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and unravels it, holding it out to his protege, “I want you to sign right here, and initial here.” He points to the designated areas where a signature is required as the teen takes the document, reading what it says in confusion before his eyes widen in shock.

“You’re…you wanna make my internship a paid internship?” Peter asks, not believing what he’s seeing, “And May already signed it?”

“Yup, you’re not eighteen so I needed May’s approval. So,” Tony casually leans against the table, holding out a pen for the kid, “What d’ya say?”

“I-I,” the teen stutters, his gaze not leaving the sheet of paper, “But like it’s not actually an internship, that’s just a front -”

“Really? You think all the stuff you do around here is just a front?” The older genius asks with a cheeky smile, “Making up web fluid and all the repairs you help me do, I should’ve done this a long time ago if I’m being honest.”

Peter looks long and hard at the writing in front of him, occasionally glancing back and forth at both that and the man who put it together.

He’s not stupid, the kid knows why his mentor is bringing this to his attention.

And he’s grateful.

Tony could’ve tried offering money again, making him feel like a loser even though he didn’t mean it in that way.

But no, Iron Man is offering him a job, a job where he can continue doing what he loves while he helps out his aunt in the process.

He can feel accomplished…proud even.

A smile breaks out across the teen’s face as he takes everything in, thinking about what he can do with the money he’s going to make in addition to helping May: saving up for college, a car, and ooh that Nintendo Switch he’s been dying to have -”

His thoughts are interrupted by Tony clearing his throat, snapping him back to reality, “My arm’s getting tired here, kiddo, you in or not?” The man asks.

Peter takes the pen and lays the sheet on the table, signing on the dotted lines before giving it back to him, “Um, th-thank you, thank you, Mr. Stark, you’re amazing.” He concludes with giving him a hug, wrapping his arms around his hero’s torso thus making the older man gasp in surprise.

“Well, I already knew that,” Tony says jokingly, giving the tyke a light ruffle of his hair, “But it sounds so much better when you say it. You’re the amazing one, don’t doubt that.”

“Tell that to my history book.”

“Speaking of,” the mechanic starts with a snicker, “The Second Industrial Revolution -”

Peter cuts him off with a groan, defeatedly resting his head on the other’s chest, “You said I could take a break -”

“Yeah, for a sec.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“But you ‘needa’, c’mon, back to studying.” Tony lifts his mentee’s head and lightly pushes him back to the direction of his textbook, “So, who invented the telephone?”

“Uh, ‘Mr. Telephone’? He probably used his last name when he invented it.”

Tony lets out about the deepest sigh he’s ever expressed, “So this is how my hair goes gray.”

The following week, it is an ordinary day at the Parkers’ residence. May is preparing dinner while her nephew - who is still feeling satisfied from his after-school snack - is at the counter working on homework, trying not to stare so much at his history test that his aunt stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet.

But damn, he’ll never get tired of seeing that shiny red “B-plus.”

There is a sudden knock at the door, making both Parkers tense up since they’re not expecting anybody.

May opens the door with her kid standing off to the side. On the other side stands a middle-aged man holding a clipboard with about half a dozen bags on the ground around him.

Are Peter’s eyes mistaken or do those bags look like the reusable ones grocery stores sell?

“Ms. Parker?” The man asks, voice neutral but friendly.

“Uh, yes?” May reluctantly responds, looking the epitome of confused.

“I got your groceries here for ya.”

“What, um I didn’t order anything, Peter, did you?” The nurse turns to her kid who responds with a simple shake of his head, his expression matching his aunt’s.

The man’s eyes squint at the small clipboard he’s holding, “Isn’t this your address, ma’am?” He holds the clipboard out to the older Parker and she studies the sheet for a couple of seconds, eyes looking more and more baffled.

“Uh…yeah, yeah that’s us but-but I don’t understand -”

“No need to explain, I’m just the messenger. If you would just sign right here, saying you received your items -”

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m not paying for something I didn’t order.”

“Don’t worry about it, that’s all taken care of. All I need from you is your signature.”

“Uh,” May stutters, shoulders slumping in defeat, “Okay, sure.” She signs the paper and gives it back to him.

“Do you need assistance with the groceries today?”

“No, we got it from here, uh, thank you, thank you very much.”

“Alright, have a good day,” the delivery man then leaves them be. They pick up the grocery bags and bring them inside, quickly going through them as if it’s Christmas.

They gawk at the food items in front of them: steak, salmon, lobster, there’s even veal and duck amongst a pile of vegetables, some of which they’ve never even seen before.

“Where did all of this come from?” Peter asks, amazed at all that “Santa Claus” has graced them with.

“Wait, there’s a note.” May reaches the bottom of one of the bags and pulls out a mini note card that could mimic one that goes in a flower arrangement. She then reads aloud the brief message.

This is what you get for refusing help. Expect groceries every Monday and Thursday for the next, well, ever.

Signed, “You Know Who I Am” -

“Mr. Stark,” Peter finishes with a disbelieving grin, “Of course he did this.”

May can’t help but laugh, not believing this herself as she gets out her phone, “I’m giving this man a piece of my mind.”

Her nephew giggles in response, already getting out his own phone and sending his father figure a text.

Thanks for the groceries but you reeeeeally didn’t have to do that

Tony responds not even a minute later.

I know 😉

Now for God’s sakes EAT!!

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dragscore · 3 years

Text

hehe hoohoo i wanted to do my own lil drabble for funsies so here’s one i did for sydelle. this is messy as hell and i kinda blasted thru it the last few days so wig

b: under cover of darkness

It was like an art, learning to be silent walking through that mansion.

Sydelle had honed it well - learning to keep either her socks or leggings on as she padded down the hall. She had her skirt tied in such a way so she wouldn’t trip if she needed to rush back to her room. The girl knew how to close and open doors without making a sound.

It was almost funny, all the things she learned to be as quiet as a corpse - while most of the things she learned from her dad growing up was to be as bold and boisterous as possible. She wondered if he had to be the same way at some point. He never told her many stories when he lived in Rondeletia, but who knew? Maybe he had to be the same way.

She swallowed, ignoring the cold sweat on the back of her neck once she made it to the floor she was aiming for. She just wanted to spend some time in the library, maybe find some stationery and write to her dad.

At least. Write what she wanted to say.

She’d been doing that for years. Trying to find the words and tell him she missed him and hoped he was doing okay. That she was… mostly fine - at least, the best she could be at that point. There was no doubt she wanted her dad to come and get her, but she was more afraid of the repercussions. No, she… Just wasn’t sure what the best action to take would be.

Sydelle finally got to the library, looking around to make sure no one saw her - not that anyone would snitch, she figured, but she was more afraid Constantine would see. She didn’t want to deal with him today. Not after the stupid fight they had.

It was getting harder to stomach his bullshit. She couldn’t ‘perform’ any of the things he liked for her to do without being induced by some weird fey (and she emphasized it - fey.) spell he knew. She could still feel the awful ache deep in her stomach, when she tried to deny him a week ago. Ugh.

How did some women deal with it? It had been over six years and she still hated it.

Pushing her way through the door and into the room, the smell of the books surrounding her was an instant comfort. Sydelle wasn’t one for reading - oh heavens, no - but she liked to nap in the personal library Demetre had. The smells were so nice and warming, and the silence would help her rest.

Sometimes, as a child, she’d follow his son, Adrien, and listen to him and his friend discuss places to travel to. Peruse the books in the room and have friendly banter about whatever they’d read next. She never really caught on to whatever they were up to, but both boys were nice enough to stay hush and even cover her up before they left.

She… Missed that. An awful lot. Sydelle’s eyes were already getting misty when she went to one of the tables, situated near a little reading nook, and sat down, grabbing one of the pieces of paper readily available to write on, and a pencil, and stared at the sheet.

… And once again, all she could think of was to switch between either telling her dad to get her, or to not get her. Not that she knew where she was, anyway. She hadn’t left the mansion. At all. She swore she was worlds paler than she used to be, and that was a problem. It just felt like Sydelle was losing more and more of what linked her to her dad.

Well, there was no way Constantine would take away anything else that linked her to him. Her claddagh ring would always stay safely hidden on a chain, within her room. And he’d never know about the jacket she pretty much stole from him as a little kid. That was pretty much all she had, linking her to the outside world.

She focused on the paper again, trying to comfort herself in the dim light. Daddy, this is Sydelle. I’m sorry I- No. Daddy, it’s Sydelle. I haven’t been able to do this at all, but I just wanted you to know I’m- No…

The girl grumbled, scratching out all the text. She didn’t want to apologize. She didn’t want to make it sound like she felt bad for being kidnapped. And she sure as hell couldn’t say anything about the situation. Uttering any of Constantine's secrets would just make her vomit needles. And she was sure doing that on paper would make it happen, anyway. Sure, you could drop this information within the walls of his estate, but the outside? No.

She heard the doors open and she tensed, scooting her chair back silently, grasping the paper as she readied herself to duck under the table. She focused on the sounds of the new arrival’s footsteps, adrenaline beginning to pump into her vei-

Wait. No. It wasn’t the footsteps of a pair of fancy loafers. She realized it was the more casual strides of one of the coven members. She lost some tension in her position, as she looked and realized-

Ah, it was Johannes.

He wasn’t exactly looking for her, either. The man just happened to be there, casually flipping through a section of books. She relaxed in her seat, but kept her hands over the paper. She just kept her eyes trained on him, afraid she’d have to answer for herself somehow. Instead he just calmly looked over, his empty eyes half-lidded as he set them on her.

“Writing something?”

Sydelle stammered, feeling small under his gaze. She hastily pulled the paper to her chest, but didn’t dare move. Johannes wasn’t… Well, bad - he was good at distracting Constantine, and had a knack for getting him to leave her alone if he irritated him enough. She didn’t know him well, but she saw the man hanging around Milla a lot.

And she knew Milla some - she was Uncle Demetre’s sister. She only saw her a little bit, growing up, but that told her enough that Johannes was… Okay. Sure, Milla was the assistant - but it was obvious she didn’t want to be there, either.

So… He was fine, but she hadn’t dealt with him without Constantine being around.

“Uhm-” Wasn’t he fey? She should stop being so mousy. She took a deep breath, sitting the papers down. “Y-Yeah.”

“To family?” The interest in his eyes sparked - it was weird seeing him be curious.

“M-My dad.”

“Ohh,” he nodded, setting down a stack of books on the table. All having something to do with curses. “I’ve heard you mention him before. Have you been able to get letters to him?”

“No. I just… Write what I want to say.”

“Makes sense. Things come in here, but things never leave. Not unless he lets you, anyway.”

God, weren’t that the truth. Johannes cracked open one of the books, but didn’t stop staring at her to talk. Before he somehow lost the… Intensiveness in his stare - making her feel less like he was scoping her out for some reason.

“I… Don’t think I’d ever be able to get any of my words to my dad, anyway,” Sydelle said, breaking eye contact. “It’s a stupid little habit, writing to him when he won’t be able to see them.”

“Would you like to, somehow?”

Sydelle perked up, staring at the man. He didn’t change his expression at all, just blankly looking at her. Why would he care? Sure, he was a wish granter and all, but they both knew that Sydelle couldn’t really keep up her end of the bargain. She wasn’t much of a fighter - she learned things from her dad, but if she could defend herself the way he could, she wouldn’t be here.

She swallowed, tapping her fingers on the table. She didn’t want to use the wrong wording. Fey were… Weird. But he wasn’t being very fey like right then. Or was he? Fey were fucking confusing. At least vampires were easier to understand. She took a deep breath.

“Of course I do. I want to see him again. I don’t…” She lowered her voice, feeling sweat break out on her neck. “I don’t want to get married, I-I don’t want to be here. I… H-hate Constantine. I hate it here. I can barely hide it anymore-”

“Is that why the engagement party got called off?”

She flinched.

Sydelle remembered how pushy Constantine was about it. Trying to rush things so they could get to the wedding. She already had an awful night with him - one she was going to shut out of her mind somehow. She was practically kicking and screaming at the people that did her hair and makeup for the occasion, and the dress…

Ugh.

The only thing that got her out of it was fake crying. Well. Were they fake if she was truthfully upset? She tried to make it look like she was upset about something else - something related to the party. She knew it would just put everyone’s efforts to a waste, but she couldn’t do it. She hated this. She hated the idea of being his bride. Sydelle was barely an adult.

She just. She just wanted to be at home. That was all. She swallowed, closing her eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I figured. Honestly, it was better that way. Constantine’s fancy parties are no place for someone your age to be at.”

“Constantine’s bed is no place for someone my age.”

“You’re right.”

Her hasty response left her face reddening. She didn’t mean to go there. But Johannes’ casual response helped alleviate the embarrassment. He hummed, sitting down, keeping his hands on his books. She didn’t expect him to speak so openly to her. She was wary, but it was… Welcome.

“Tell you what,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper. He pushed his glasses up as he stared at her. Sydelle gulped, staring back. “If… I arrange something, would you want to leave?”

… What? Was he seriously asking that?

Sydelle couldn’t believe it, but she couldn’t help thinking about it. How nice it’d be to escape and get back to her dad. She was practically tearing up, thinking about coming home and holding onto him as tightly as she could. How she’d promise she wouldn’t wander about again, no matter how enticing the path seemed. She swallowed, trying to steel herself.

“That’s… Not some fey trickery thing, is it?”

Johannes stared at her for a moment, eyebrows pulled together in amusement. He started to laugh - genuinely amused by her question. She just felt more anxious. Sure, he seemed nice, but she knew he was capable of some nasty shit.

“Oh, Sydelle-” he laughed again, brushing his hair out of his face, “I’m glad you would recognize me as what I am. You really are too good for Constantine. No, I’m not here to trick you.”

“You… Promise.”

“I’m being as genuine as ever. If you wanted, I could break my arm to prove I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you.”

Sydelle stammered, eyes widening - as she held her hands up in protest. No - she could tell he meant that! She shook her head furiously, trying to get her words out. Johannes just laughed again, sighing.

“That may or may not be a joke. So you’re levelling with me, then?”

“W-Well…” She took a deep breath, looking around the room. Afraid someone may be listening. Or watching. “I… Y-yes. If there was a way to leave, I would. I just… Want to see my dad again.”

“And you deserve to,” he said, nodding. “Well. That’s all I needed to know. That was enlightening, Sydelle.”

“... you only wanted to hear me say that?” She frowned, tilting her head.

“I won’t say much, but I’ll try to pull some strings here and there.”

He was getting back to his books, staring at the open one for a moment. Sydelle leaned forward, deeply confused.

“Why… Are you doing this?”

Johannes stared at her, confused, then smiled smugly. “Maybe I just want to ruffle Constantine’s feathers a bit. Maybe you shouldn’t be in a place like this. What would sound nicer?”

Sydelle opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t… Sure. Both were fine, but she just didn’t expect him to offer. And considering he was fey, she knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Sure, wordplay was a big thing with his people, but…

She sighed, leaning back again. She needed rest. She looked at her paper, already ruined from how tightly she held onto it. Drat.

“I… Should get back to my room. I don’t want him to find out I left. He’s still convinced I’m upset.”

“That’s not exactly a lie,” he said, propping his head on his hand. “Would you like me to lead you back? You seem nervous.”

“I’m afraid someone might snitch on me.”

“Then by all means, I wouldn’t mind taking you back.”

He was already standing up, offering his hand to her. Sydelle gulped, still nervous, but the gesture seemed genuine enough. She took a deep breath, took his hand, and let him lead her out of the library.

The walk back wasn’t nearly as terrifying, at least. They both stayed quiet, and she just kept her eyes on the ground, hoping she wasn’t making any noise. Weirdly, despite his hurried footsteps, he barely made a sound.

Maybe he had to learn to be just as cautious, then.

He finally stopped, opening the door to her room, peeking in, then looking back. Nodding to let her know it was safe. Thank goodness. She sighed, stopping in her doorway.

“Thank you,” she said, looking back at him. “That talk helped clear my head some, at least. I hope your studies go well, Johannes.”

The man smiled, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t thank me. I’m doing what I can. Just don’t forget my promise. You’ll get out of here, Sydelle.”

“I’m… Not so sure. But thank you.”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything else. The implication lying behind his smile was too much for her to just write off, but she decided to do it anyway. Turning away to get to her room.

… She stopped again. Maybe she should ask. Maybe she should ask what he meant. The girl looked back, ready to ask, but he was already gone.

Leaving her more confused than ever.

#super happy art time #sydelle #johannes #just what leads to her being able to escape #jojo is fucking weird and confusing but its basically him getting personal confirmation on what sydelle really wants here #shesj ust a scared baby

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jisungsmochi · 5 years

Text

competition - na jaemin

summary: you and jaemin have been competing alongside eachother in soccer since you were younger. it slowly became a competition when your teams were often compared to each other, so you both instead became rivals. but things change, when your teams are forced to merge.

childhood best friends to rivals (?) to lovers hehe

a/n: i really outdid myself with this one but i just couldn’t stop writing HAHA pls enjoy it!!

word count: 6.6k

‘over here y/n !!’ you heard a high pitched voice call from your left, you giggled softly before dribbling the ball between your feet, handing it over to the six year old boy.

he dribbled skilfully before taking the final kick for the goal. both of you cheered as your parents and siblings watched on, clapping at your efforts. you ran up to him with arms wide, as did he, both meeting in the middle and embracing eachother in a slightly sweaty hug.

‘we are such a good team!’ you pat him on the back, while walking to your parents.

‘yeah we are! i can’t wait until we’re older, we can play on the same team!’ jaemin cheerfully exclaimed, making you nod in agreement.

‘i’ll see you next friday! bye jaemin’ you gave him one last hug before jogging to your parents.

‘ewww y/n! you like jaemin!’ your brother, mark teased.

‘i do not! boys have cooties!’ you crossed your arms, following your parents to the car.

‘whatever you say! i bet he will be your boyfriend in the future!’ mark taunted you while making kissy faces. although he was just a year old than you, you didn’t hesitate to slap the back of his head.

na jaemin was your best companion on the field. you practiced every friday, as your families were good friends, so your friendship was bound to have happened. but your interest in soccer was what really brought you two together.

as the years went by, your love of soccer didn’t fade away.

when you were both fourteen, you tried out for the regional teams at your local soccer club.

you both hyped eachother up as it would give you both an opportunity to be scouted when you both go to college.

‘y/n, you’re the best player i know, those girls have nothing on you!’ you nodded at his mini motivational speech. he looked at you with his smile which instantly made you feel at ease. you both had practiced almost everyday after school for this try out.

‘jaemin’ he looked over to you. ‘promise that we’ll play alongside eachother one day’ you pulled out your pinky, in which he nodded whilst linking his with yours and conjoining your thumbs at the end. it was a small action that was significant to you both.

‘i promise!’ he cheered before you both headed to the field.

and with flying colours, you both earned positions on your respective teams. jaemin came running to you, as he had done many times before, picking you up and spinning you around.

‘we did it! i can’t believe it! we are amazing!’ he smiled, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you both walked over to your parents.

‘we are going to own high school together!’ you smiled up at him, in which he smiled back at you.

everything was going to be perfect, so you thought.

but high school wasn’t all you expected. jaemin soon became a distant stranger. you couldn’t find time to hang out after school due to your practice schedules. and school was a whole different story, different classes, new friend groups. the whole lot. it was difficult to stay in touch. the only thing you both seemed to still have in common was your love for soccer. but it wasn’t enough to keep your friendship growing.

dinners at each other’s houses soon turned into just jaemin’s parents and his little sister. jaemin was always busy with his new friends and with his soccer team, he couldn’t come over anymore. and each time you would come over to dinner at his place, he would lock himself in his room to chat with his friends and play video games, leaving you and his little sister to watch random shows on tv. you missed him, a lot. you missed how you would both go to the local reserve to destress by kicking the ball around. you missed how he would text you at early hours of the morning because he had a nightmare. you missed how you give eachother shoulder massages before every tournament you attended. you missed na jaemin being your best friend. but this feeling soon turned into a distaste for him. you disliked how he tossed you away as soon as he found a new clique. you disliked how he became the star player on his team, when you were always placed second on yours. you disliked how no matter how many memories you both made, na jaemin refused to acknowledge your existence in the halls. you soon came to dislike na jaemin. and you weren’t so sure it would change any time soon.

you made your way to the soccer club, checking yourself in and meeting up with the rest of your team mates.

you only really had one other close friend on the team, yuna. she was the team’s goal keeper, and was often described as a prodigy as she only began playing soccer two years back. you both took your seats on the bleachers, awaiting the arrival of your coach. you looked over as you saw him, followed by the boys team.

‘oh no, this looks bad’ yuna gasped as the boys made their way over to your team and sat to the right of the bleachers.

‘okay so now that we are all here, i have some news. coach shin for the boys regional team has gone on part time leave due to an injury. we aren’t sure how long he will be gone for, but he and i have both agreed to merge training for the male and female teams to be on the same days.’

a wave of groans filled the stands as both teams were infuriated.

‘i understand your frustration, but i believe this is the best option as you all know we have the upcoming co-ed tournament. i will be choosing six players from each team to be on the team with consulting from coach shin. but for now, please practice as you would, and do not hesitate to practice together! now chop chop, we don’t have much time left!’ your coach blew his whistle as everyone made their way to the field.

‘i can’t believe it, the boys are complete assholes’ yuna groaned as you both left your seats.

‘i know, i can’t believe jaemin is still there’ you sighed.

‘okay but he is one of the best players in the club, you can’t deny it, he’s definitely making the co-ed team’ she looked over at him, then back at you.

‘yeah well i’m going to make it on the team as well. i need to beat him’ you spoke with such determination, yuna just nodded as you both began to practice dribbling.

on the other side of the field, jaemin was watching you practice. he hasn’t seen you on the field in a while, due to his schedule. but he couldn’t deny that you were getting better by the second. his thoughts were interrupted.

‘bro, take a shot!’ jeno yelled from the goals, as jaemin readjusted himself, before striking the ball, only for it to completely miss the goal. jeno ran up to his friend, with confusion.

‘dude you never miss, why did you miss?’ jeno questioned.

‘just...distracted’ was all jaemin could reply with.

‘by what? the girls?’ jeno joked, giving his friend a small tap on the shoulder.

‘it’s just so unfair that they are taking up half our field space as well as us having to share our practice time’ jaemin rolled his eyes, letting them land back on you.

‘yeah i know it’s whack, but if coach said it will be good then it will be. plus we have to try to get on the co-ed team’ jeno explained.

‘you mean, you, have to try’ jaemin jokes, as jeno tackled him to the ground,

‘oh you’re an asshole’

the next day at training, you saw that some of the girls on your team had started practicing with the boys. you weren’t completely against the idea, but it was always instilled into your team that they were our rivals. the boys team always competed in more well-known comps and had won more tournaments than your team. it was a real confidence bust. as you stepped onto the field, your coach called you over.

‘hey y/n, could you please practice with jeno? he’s still a bit unconfident with his goal kicks, and you are one of our best strikers so it wouldn’t hurt to help him out’ your coach politely asked. you didn’t dislike jeno, the way you disliked jaemin, so you agreed, making your way over to jeno. but the two boys came like a pair, get one, and forcefully get the other.

jeno gave you a small wave before jogging up to you to shake your hand.

‘hi y/n!’ he smiled at you, in which you returned,

‘hi, coach said you need help with goal kicks?’ you got straight to the point, ignoring jaemin staring from the corner of your eye.

‘yes please’ jeno followed you to the goal, observing your every move as you explained your technique. you tried your best to make it simple for him to understand. it took a while for him to get the hang of things but once he did, his face lit up. you couldn’t help but watch as jaemin glared at the both of you. you couldn’t read his expression, but he wasn’t happy.

once you had finished with jeno, jaemin approached you.

‘your leg wasn’t straight’ was all he said.

‘what?’ you struck back at him, the tone in your voice coming out harsher than you anticipated.

‘i said, your leg wasn’t straight. your knee kept bending’ he stood so his figure towered above you, his way of making it clear he felt superior. you rolled your eyes before poking his chest,

‘well hotshot, coach asked me to help jeno, and he actually got it. so my leg may not be ‘straight’ but i still got the job done’ your eyes pierced into his.

he scoffed, while crossing his arms,

‘i could have done better’ his whole composure infuriated you. this wasn’t the jaemin you used to practice with everyday. this wasn’t the jaemin who would compliment your every move.

‘just shut your mouth for once, jaemin, no one asked for your opinion’ you shoved past him, as jeno was jogging to you guys.

‘hey what happened?’ he asked you politely, trying to stop you from storming off.

‘he’s an asshole’ was all you could say before making your way to the bleachers and packing your things. you hated that he made you feel so small. you needed to prove to na jaemin that you were a good player, no matter what it takes.

the weekend had come along and it was a local tournament for your team. the boys were pretty much forced by coach to attend in order to analyse how the girls play. you and yuna were preparing for the match, tightening your shoe laces and doing some last minute stretching.

‘okay girl, what’s the game plan?’ she asked you as you both walked into the field.

‘game plan is to show these boys how it’s done’ you chuckled as you fist bumped her and made your ways to your designated spots.

the team you were up against were known local champions, you had only won against them a few times, but they had a well known rep for playing dirty. as the game commenced, everything went at such a quick pace. players from your team were getting tripped over, and constantly getting blocked shots. it frustrated you how embarrassing it seemed from the boys’ perspective. you had received the ball, whilst two players from the opposing team were chasing you down, one of them tripped you over as the other ran for the ball. as you fell to the ground, you felt your ankle twist, instantly knowing it wasn’t going to end well. as your body hit the ground, you immediately reached for your ankle in pain, calling out for the ref. the ref dismissed the action from the other players, and called a time out. your coach, along with some players from your team, helped you to the bench.

‘does it hurt when i do this?’ your coach was worried about the extent of the injury. you shook your head.

‘how about this?’ he strained it in another direction,

‘oh god yes it does’ you winced before grabbing your ankle again.

‘okay it’s not broken, just a sprain, someone get her some ice, you need to be on rest for the next few weeks’ he sighed, evidently stressed about the whole situation.

‘but coach, i need to make the co-ed team’ you cried,

‘try outs for that team aren’t for another two months, you will be okay’ he pat your shoulder as someone aided you with ice.

fuck this, was all you could think.

you scanned the bleachers as your eyes met with jaemin, who, for once, seemed to be worried. you ignored his glance before attending to your ankle.

despite your injury you still wanted to attend practice even if it meant you were to be put on the bench. jaemin constantly kept looking over at you, as if he was unsure on whether to approach you or not. you were tapping away on your phone when you felt a presence next to you,

‘how’s the ankle?’ he asked in a monotone voice.

‘why do you care?’ you shut off your phone and glared at him.

‘just asking’ he shrugged, taking a seat next to you.

‘it’s fine, i mean, i can’t really feel it but if i move it the wrong way, it just hurts so bad’ you sighed, unsure of why you were letting this out on him.

‘i’ve had a sprained ankle before, it will pass, don’t worry too much about it’ he awkwardly spoke as you just nodded. the tension was slightly unbearable.

‘you going to try out for co-ed?’ he decided to continue the flow of the conversation.

‘yeah of course, i can’t wait to beat you’ you chuckled softly, watching as his eyes met yours.

‘oh really now? with that little ankle of yours?’ he shot you his flawless smile that used to calm you down when you were younger.

‘once i’m healed you better watch out’ you continued with the banter. it felt nice to talk normally with jaemin again, but it still didn’t excuse the way he had acted towards you in the past.

‘i’m sooo scared’ he put his hands up in defence, yet again, smiling at you.

stop doing that, you thought to yourself.

‘it’s been a while’ you sighed, he looked at you with a confused expression.

‘since we’ve properly talked’ you explained, as he slowly nodded.

‘yeah about that i’m-‘

‘HEY! jaemin! my mum’s here to pick us up!’ jeno interrupted, as he made his way to the car park.

‘oh i’m sorry i should go, nice talking to you after so long’ jaemin quickly packed his things before rushing off to meet jeno.

he was something else. one moment he was criticising you on your kicks, and now he’s trying to be all friendly.

during school, you would never even taken notice of jaemin, but since that conversation at practice, it was all you could do. everywhere you went, he was somehow always there. part of you wanted to talk to him, but it seemed like something you both could only do at practice.

your brother, mark, was picking you up from school that day. as you put on your seatbelt, he started the car.

‘woah hold on, is that jaemin? i haven’t seen that guy in ages!’ mark spoke in awe before popping his head out the window,

‘yo jaemin!!’

the brunette boy noticed someone calling his name and made his way over to mark’s car.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ your eyes widened as you slid down the car seat.

‘hey mark, it’s been a while’ jaemin was at the driver’s window.

‘oh hi y/n’ he smirked as you gave him a small wave before rushing to grab your phone.

‘damn you’ve gotten taller, wanna come hang out at our house, we’ve got to catch up!’ mark offered him, before you blurted,

‘no!’ the two boys looked over at you in confusion.

‘i- i mean, shouldn’t we also invite his parents too? mum and dad are both home from work today’ you quickly put together, watching as mark nodded in agreement.

‘yeah sounds good’ jaemin spoke, causing you to look over at him.

‘cool, come over at 6’ mark waved goodbye as he drove off.

‘why did you do that?!’ you slapped his arm.

‘hey! unlike you, i am still friends with him okay? and dude, are you sure you don’t have a crush on him? because i see the way you been looking at eachother an-‘

‘one more word and i’m going to dye all your white shirts, pink’ you threatened as the older boy became quiet.

what in the world was going to happen tonight?

six o’clock struck. your parents were frantically setting the table, excited that their friends were coming over after a while of not seeing eachother. you felt bad that they had stopped hanging out, partly due to your distance from jaemin. mark was excited as well, him and jaemin would play fifa on the playstation together, whilst you would bother them to watch a movie with you. it felt like old times were reoccurring.

the doorbell rang, and you being the closest, walked over the answer it. there you saw jaemin and his parents. he was dressed in a grey hoodie and some black jeans. it was a simple outfit but it made him look more fit and attractive. which you didn’t want to admit. you greeted them all politely as jaemin’s mum began to explain,

‘ah yes yeeun is currently on school camp so she is unable to be here’ you also missed hanging out with jaemin’s sister, hopefully that day will come again soon. both of your parents instantly reconnected, chatting away in the living room.

‘hey‘ you smiled at him softly. he looked down at you with slight admiration.

‘hey’

‘it’s been a while’ you spoke awkwardly.

‘yeah almost, three years?’ jaemin sighed, looking around your house that he once used to come to everyday.

‘not much has changed, really’ you led him towards your room, where a large butterfly sculpture was stuck on the outside of your door.

‘this is still here?!’ his mouth widened in shock.

‘yeah well, using super glue to stick this bad boy on, makes it difficult to remove’ you smiled as you opened the door,

‘ah my bad i’m sorry about that! but hey, i was eight’ he shrugged before looking around your room.

he walked over to your trophies that were displayed on a bookcase next to your study table.

‘so what’s new with you?’ you asked, taking a seat on your bed.

‘umm a lot? y/n, we haven’t spoken since like three years ago’ he sat next to you, leaving some space between you both.

‘yeah, who’s fault was that?’ you mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

‘what do you mean?’ he tried to regain your attention.

‘you’re the one who stopped being friends with me!’ you threw your hands in the air in annoyance.

‘not true! you’re the one who left me for another group!’ he retorted, your eyebrows furrowed, irritated at his words.

‘well you’re the one who stopped coming over. you stopped talking to me at school and you stopped taking the bus to practice with me. what else was i supposed to do, but make new friends!’ you scowled at him, angered that he was trying to put the blame on you.

he was unable to say anything in return, instead he pulled your head against his chest and ran his fingers through your hair.

‘i- i just thought that, we were drifting already since we weren’t in the same classes, so i just cut our friendship off to just, try and make things easier. it’s not a good excuse i know, but i thought its what you wanted’ he explained, his words trembling as you felt his hands shake.

‘i didn’t want to stop being friends’ you wiped some tears that left your eyes and looked up at him.

‘i’m sorry for everything.’ he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear.

‘it’s okay’ you nodded, placing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

‘can we try to pick things up where they left off?’ he offered, unsure of what your response would be.

you debated on your response. remembering the times he was completely rude to you.

‘we can try. but the moment you act like an asshole, i’m not afraid to hit you’ you threatened as a smile crept onto his face.

‘thankyou for giving me another chance’ he muttered.

‘it’s okay, promise you won’t mess this up?’ you pulled out your pinky. he smiled widely at your actions before linking your pinkies together and joining your thumbs.

‘i promise’

and with those words, and the official seal of friendship, na jaemin wasn’t so unbearable.

the next practice you both attended, your coach allowed you to participate in some simple training.

‘hey, your ankle seems to be healing pretty quickly!’ jaemin approached you, as he trapped the ball between his feet.

‘oh yeah, it’s barely hurting anymore’ you smiled back at him. although it has only been a week since he had come over for dinner, you both attempted to somehow rekindle your friendship. at times it was still awkward and you both were unsure of how to continue the conversation, so you both unanimously agreed to only talk during practice.

jeno and yuna would often join you both, abiding by your coach’s orders of light training. so the four of you were just passing the ball to eachother in a circle while talking about events at school.

yuna, unfortunately didn’t attend your school, which often led to her ranting about her crush on a guy in her maths class by the name of haechan.

‘ugh he’s just so nice to me but he’s so oblivious! i invited him to go to the movies but then he invited one of his friends as well because he thought it was a group thing, so i ended up third wheeling them!!’ she groaned, passing the ball over to jeno.

‘that’s a tough blow, maybe you just need to be more straight up?’ he passed the ball over to jaemin,

‘or how about this? get over him! you were already clear by asking him out’ jaemin shrugged before tapping it over to you.

‘i agree, he isn’t worth your time’ you stated to your best friend as she nodded along to everyone’s advice.

‘you are all probably right, fuck boys’ she giggled as jeno chased her to the other side of the field.

‘they would be cute’ jaemin muttered, standing beside you.

‘i mean i guess’ you chuckled, ‘want to go out? just the four of us?’ you offered as he agreed,

‘damn you’re asking me out on a date already? y/n i don’t like you like that’ jaemin smirked as you shoved his shoulders,

‘can you like not be self absorbed for like five minutes?’

‘no can do’

you were seated next to jaemin as yuna and jeno sat across from you both.

‘we’re really having mcdonald’s for dinner?’ yuna commented, whilst taking a bite of her fries.

‘got a problem?’ you retorted, causing her to chuck a fry at you.

‘so how are we feeling about co-ed try outs? i mean, we HAVE to all make it’ jeno started the conversation.

‘but jeno, we are both goalies, only one of us can be the team’s goalkeeper, and besides i suck at dribbling’ yuna sighed.

‘don’t be discouraged! we can help you’ jaemin offered, trying to cheer her up.

‘yeah, it’s no fun if one of us is left out!’ you exclaim, remembering back to when you and jaemin promised to play on the same team together one day.

as you all parted ways from car park, jaemin approached you.

‘hey y/n, want me to drive you home?’

you were originally waiting for mark, but remembered that he was studying for his college exams. you nodded in response to his offer and entered the passenger seat of his car.

‘wanna go somewhere?’ he mumbled, looking over at you. there was a short silence before you responded,

‘let’s go to the reserve’ you smiled as his face lit up. that reserve held so many of your memories. the time that you and jaemin were hiding from mark and yeeun when playing hide and seek. the time that jaemin got rejected by his crush in 7th grade and asked you to buy him lollies so you could both talk about it.

you hopped out of the car, meeting jaemin at the centre of the reserve.

‘it’s so quiet’ he whispered, slinging his arm around you, like many times before.

but this time it felt different. you missed the feeling of his arm around you. you missed his hugs and his motivational speeches, you really missed jaemin.

‘yeah it is’ you sighed before taking a seat on the grass. jaemin followed, not saying a word before pulling you closer to his side and allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

‘remember when we were younger, and we wanted to play on the same team so badly that you even tried to cut your hair shorter so you would look like a boy’ jaemin chuckled, causing you to lightly slap his thigh.

‘hey! i had to live with a bowl cut for a whole year before my hair reached past my shoulders’ you whined, hiding your face in the crook on his neck, which made his composure stiffen. he wrapped his arm around you before continuing to tease,

‘no you looked very cute, the bowl haircut really suited you’

you didn’t know why he made you feel so fuzzy inside but you didn’t want that feeling to go away. you wanted to keep feeling how na jaemin made you feel.

moments passed before you moved your head to face jaemin. his side profile was so gorgeous, it made you speechless. his jawline was defined, his cheeks weren’t as full, his lips were plump. he soon took notice of you staring, turning his head to look you directly in the eyes. your faces were mere centimetres apart, if you would have just moved slightly forward your lips would have touched. jaemin’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips. his breath was hitting the surface of your lips as you felt his hand move a piece of hair from your face. he let his hand linger there, still not saying a word. you wanted to just close that gap, but you were unsure of how he felt about it.

‘i- i mean we should go’ he whispered to you, pulling away from you. you didn’t know why your heart hurt at his actions. you wanted to kiss jaemin right then and there, but you guessed that he clearly didn’t feel the same. you quickly made your way to his car, he remained silent the entire trip back to your house. as he pulled up to your drive way, you turned to him before saying,

‘i’m sorry about earlier, it wasn’t meant to happen. i mean, god i don’t know. i’m sorry, thanks for the ride, bye’ you stammered, making your way out of his car and heading inside. jaemin sat back in his seat, his heart beat finally resuming to pump at a steady pace.

he wanted to kiss you. but the timing didn’t feel right to him. he didn’t want to hurt you, like he did years before. jaemin sat in your driveway for a few minutes, recounting the events in his mind, replaying what he should have done differently. eventually he just groaned to himself before driving back home.

as you entered your room, you immediately called yuna, ready to pour your emotions out for the rest of the night.

a week had gone by since that day. your ankle was 99% healed, and you were cleared to play as usual. you entered the field and immediately began practicing your goal kicks. yuna was absent due to a cold, so your next best goalkeeper was jeno. you were shooting balls at him, left and right and he managed to save more than you expected.

‘let’s take a break’ he almost wheezed before walking up to you and handing you a water bottle.

in the back of your mind, you wondered where jaemin was, it wasn’t like him to skip out on practice, but part of you also didn’t want to know, in fear that your embarrassment would resurface.

‘try outs are next week, how you feeling?’ jeno asked, spreading himself flat on the field. you chuckled whilst copying his actions.

‘i feel good about it, and you?’ you question him back, as he lets out a small sigh.

‘fingers crossed, am i right?’ was all he said. you weren’t sure how to respond so you remained silent as you both stared at the stars in the sky.

‘hey’ you suddenly blurred, causing jeno to sit up and face you.

‘how do you know, if a guy likes you?’

jeno gave you a puzzled look before thinking of what to say.

‘well, depends, are you talking about any other guy or are you talking about jaemin?’ your eyes widened at the boy’s question, worried that you had been too obvious.

‘how did you know?’ you hung your head low to play with the grass.

‘i’ve seen the way you both look at eachother, you don’t just do that with a friend’ he shrugged before approaching you closer. ‘y/n, what are you waiting for?’

you weren’t sure what he really meant. it wasn’t like you were waiting for jaemin to confess. you weren’t waiting for you both to have some romance story to tell people. you weren’t sure of what you wanted from na jaemin.

‘i’m just scared, that things are going to go back to the way they were before. us ignoring eachother and not being friends’ you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest.

‘it won’t happen, you just need to be upfront with him. jaemin can be reserved and quite the ignorant guy, but he will let his guard down’ jeno reassured you, whilst softly rubbing your back.

his words remained with you for the rest of the night. as you laid in bed at 2:34am, not able to fall asleep, you called the one person you needed to talk to most.

‘y/n?’ the deep voice groaned, clearly having been woken by your call.

‘meet me at the reserve in 15 minutes, we need to talk’ you quickly hung up and put on warmer clothes. jaemin was confused to say the least, but he agreed that you both needed to talk.

and just like that, 15 minutes later, his car pulled up to the reserve where you sat in the centre of the field, just like many nights ago. you could hear his footsteps approach you, your heart pounding with every step he took. he hunched down to meet you at eye level before taking a seat next to you.

‘you called me out here to talk’ he spoke so softly, you didn’t want to look at him. instead you stared at some trees before replying,

‘what are we?’ you struck at him, watching as his demeanour changed.

he became more enclosed, his lips sealed and hands in his pockets.

‘what do you mean?’ he cluelessly replied.

‘you know what i mean, jaemin. you can’t keep confusing me. i can’t keep going on thinking we can still be just friends when you haven’t even properly told me how you feel.’ you sighed as you faced him, his face washed with a blank expression.

‘you haven’t told me how you feel either’ he retorted. part of you wanted to scream at him, but you knew he was right.

‘fine. i’ll say it. i like you, na jaemin. i’ve liked you since we were little. i’ve liked you since you took my hand after each fall in our practice games. i’ve liked you since you plastered a stupid butterfly sculpture on my door because you said it looks pretty. i’ve liked you since you promised me that we would make it on the same team one day. but these past three years, i’ve been battling myself into not liking you. i’ve tried to hate you because you just tossed me away. like all our memories didn’t mean anything to you. do i even mean anything to you?’ you suddenly felt tears rush down your face, your breathing becoming heavy and your fists were balled up. jaemin stared back at you, with every ounce of hurt he had ever felt. he didn’t want to hurt you. that was his number one priority since you were children, but he didn’t exactly that.

he pulled you to his side and stroked your hair to calm you down.

‘y/n, you mean more to me than you will ever give yourself credit for. i thought that i was holding you back, three years ago. you were pretty much the star player of the club, i couldn’t compete. i know that we were on different teams, but i wanted to be better than you. and fuck, that feels so selfish and arrogant to be saying right now but i hated how we were both brought up the same but you were significantly improving whilst i remained the exact same. so i decided that being friends with you, would only bring a lifetime of competitiveness and jealousy. there wasn’t a day that went by where i didn’t regret my actions.’ jaemin reached for your hands to interlock. still continuing to stroke your hair as you listened to his sweet voice.

‘now that we��ve had the chance to reconnect. i feel like an asshole. i should have kissed you that night. i kicked myself everyday since then because i didn’t do it. i just didn’t want to end up hurting you, so i pushed you away. and i am sorry for doing that to you’ jaemin pulled your face to be met with his. both his palms rested on your cheeks as he made eye contact with you.

‘before i keep rambling about how much i fucked up, i wanna say that, i like you too. even though it took me longer to realise it, i like you.’ he said above a whisper, your lips now millimetres apart. a smile crept to your lips, your tears had halted as you were admiring his words. na jaemin liked you back. that’s all you needed.

you leaned in closer, waiting for him to continue. he smiled back at you before softly pressing his lips against yours. his hands moved down to the side of your neck as the kiss got deeper. your hands played with his hair as he motioned for you to lay down on the grass, his body towering over you. his lips were so soft, so supple, everything about him was so amazing. he pulled away for a split second,

‘can we continue this in my car? It’s getting cold out here’ he smirked as you eagerly nodded.

god, he was something else.

today was the day. co-ed tryouts were commencing. you, jaemin, jeno and yuna huddled together,

‘okay everyone, let’s kick ass and show them what we’ve got!’ jaemin cheered as you all pat eachother on the back.

jaemin pulled you aside, pulling you in for a kiss, that lasted a big too long for everyone’s liking.

‘oh god they’re doing it again’ yuna fake gagged before pulling jeno to the field.

jaemin chuckled at their reactions before mumbling to you,

‘you got this baby’ you blushed at his words before giving him another quick kiss and running to your position on the field.

you pumped out your absolute best skills in this game, you had to put it all on the line. making this team would mean that you had a chance for college, and you needed it more than anything.

after what felt like hours of constant running and kicking, the game came to an end. you ran up to jaemin and embraced him in a hug as he swung you around.

‘that’s it, we’re done!’ he smiled before kissing your cheek.

‘i can’t believe we made it to this point’ you were in awe that in just a few moments, you would find out if you had actually made it.

jeno and yuna joined the both of you as you all walked to the leaderboard with the names listed.

‘oh i can’t look, one of you guys do it for me please!’ yuna trembled, hugging your side. you also put your hands over your eyes, asking jaemin to tell you the results. the boys both took a deep breath before reading the list of names. they both didn’t say anything. you and yuna slowly opened your eyes as the boys led you away from the leaderboard.

jeno looked solemnly at the both of you, along with jaemin who had his head in his hands.

‘what happened? did we not make it?’ you asked nervously, clinging onto yuna.

‘no’ jaemin blurted, followed by a sigh. ‘we all fucking made it! let’s gooooo!’ he cheered loudly, pulling you off the ground once again and spinning you around.

‘oh fuck you na jaemin!’ you giggled whilst slapping him lightly.

‘don’t do that again!’ yuna rolled her eyes before slapping jeno’s arm.

‘guys we are the dream team’ jeno stayed as you all laughed.

‘this is amazing! we have to celebrate! let’s go to mcdonald’s!’ yuna exclaimed, ‘race you to jaemin’s car!’ she laughed as jeno chased her to the car park.

you looked over at jaemin who couldn’t stop smiling.

‘you’re something else’ you pulled him to your side and slung his arm around your shoulder.

‘yeah but you love it’ he teased.

‘yeah and i love you’ your words stopped jaemin in his tracks, as he brought you to face him.

‘what did you say?’ he spoke in disbelief, looking for any sign of bluffing from you.

‘i love you, jaemin’ you said again with more confidence.

his smile got even brighter, if that was even possible. he attacked you with kisses all over your face and finally attached his lips to yours, pulling you in by the waist.

‘i love you too, so so much’ he mumbled against your lips, not caring that families were witnessing your major public display of affection. his forehead rested against yours as he stared into your eyes.

na jaemin was never meant to be your competition. he was meant to be your first love. he always has been.

#na jaemin #na jaemin imagine #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream au #jaemin fluff #na jaemin fic #nct dream fic #nct imagines #nct fics #nct au #nct highschool au #nct jaemin #jisungsmochiimagines #jisungsmochi masterlist

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years

Text

Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 5)

Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn’t know it yet.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/65295007

This week I had multiple proyects and tests. Also I had this... kinda atack and I got completely obssesed with a movie saga and posted several insta stories about it so it was kinda hard find a space to write lol BUT I POST EVERY THRUSDAY SO HERE I AM. Sorry this is shorter than usual hehe

Hope you like it:) Let’s see what this kids are up to.

Thanks for the reblogs and the likes!

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @healing-winston-pratt @bluraspberryoff-secretary @aceandnebula @cerenoya @cindersnightmare @plain-jane-mclain (don’t worry, take your time to read it!)

A peculiar monster

Who would you live and die for on that list?

But the problem is, there's another list that exists,

and no one really wants to think about this.

Forget sanity, forget salary, forget vanity, my morality.

If you get in between someone I love and me,

you're gonna feel the heat of my cavalry.

Simon

Simon ran for a good two minutes before finding a place to stop. He turned the corner in the second alley he found and collapsed behind the largest trash can he found, dropping his backpack next to him. Simon wiped the cold sweat on the sleeve of his jacket. It had been a long time since he ran that much.

However, compared to the relief he felt, the fatigue was hardly noticeable.

They were safe.

He turned to his right, ready to tell Hugh that they were never going to go back to that damn store when he realized he was alone.

Completely alone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

In the street, there were a couple of homeless guys, an old man talking to himself, a dirty-looking child…

Hugh was nowhere to be found.

Simon hid again. His heart was beginning to beat unnaturally, and he couldn't feel his arms or legs. He tried to breathe but instead started to hyperventilate.

Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes.

He pulled his hair. Simon didn't want to cry. Only weak men cried and he was not weak.

Right?

He covered his mouth to hide his sobs.

Simon was weak. And selfish. And an idiot. And a fucking coward.

Why didn't he look back? Why didn't he take a moment to make sure Hugh was following him?

Weak and selfish. And an idiot. And a coward.

The Roaches were going to finish off Hugh. They would kidnap him, force him to join their gang, and he wouldn't be able to return to his normal life. Simon would never see him again and it would haunt him the rest of his days knowing that he could have done something and he didn't.

It was his fault. If only they had stayed to fight...

They probably would have been killed. There was no doubt about that. However, if they died, at least Simon could have taken his friend by the hand and thank him for believing in him. That the only thing he liked about being a prodigy was that it gave him the chance to meet him and that he was going to consider him his best friend even after all came to an end.

Because nothing and no one could ever end with what they had. Not the Roaches, not Ace Anarchy… not even death itself.

The two of them dying together sounded better than one of them dying alone.

He looked at his hands. They were invisible.

Hugh must have been so scared… Simon was fucking scared to death.

The boy he had seen on the sidewalk a few moments ago entered the alley. He was wearing cotton pants and shoes that did not fit him well. A gray cap covered his entire head.

Children shouldn't be alone in this part of town, he knew that from experience. If they were unsupervised, an idiot like Freud would probably come along and hunt them down for a long time with the sole purpose of killing them, and—

Then Simon remembered that in one of the pockets of his school bag, he carried a jackknife.

That jackknife.

The boy began to search the garbage.

It might be too broken to stab someone, but it was worth a try. Being invisible, he could take them by surprise. Simon would stand right in front of them and stick the jackknife in their eyes, one by one. None of them would understand what the hell was going on and when they finally figured it out... it would be too late to fight back.

The boy put his hands in his pockets and sighed wearily.

What if Simon arrived too late?

He banished that thought from his head immediately. For the sake of those Roaches, he wished he didn’t arrive late.

Simon was more than aware of his limitations. However, he was willing to ignore all that just to kill whoever dared to hurt him.

He still couldn't feel his hands when he reached for his backpack. Immediately, he realized the boy had been in front of him all that time. His little green eyes were fixed on Simon's. He wiped his tears, but then remembered there was no point.

He couldn't see him.

The kid took a few steps towards him. His eyes didn't move.

Wait.

Simon reached out his hand to touch him.

Or can you?

Then— the boy took the backpack and fled.

It all happened so fast that for a second, Simon wondered if it was worth following him. It was his school backpack. He was going to drop out anyway. If Hugh did it, so would he.

Hugh.

It was that thought that made him stand up and chase the thief.

The jackknife was in his backpack. He needed that jackknife.

He needed his friend alive.

Evander

He wasn't quite sure why he started running when he grabbed the backpack. Maybe it was because he felt guilty about stealing it but the truth was that he didn't. If someone had left it there, it was because they didn't want it.

Evander did want it. So he grabbed it. It was a fair deal.

He wanted it because inside of it there could be anything. It was a treasure chest, like the ones from the stories Kasumi told him. There could be food, or medicine, or toys. A year ago, he had been so lucky that he found a backpack with a bag of marbles hidden under a pile of adult clothing. Unfortunately, he had never been lucky enough to find the treasure of a retired mobster, who was sorry for his old habits and decided to abandon all his money on the street, in the hope of rehabilitating himself.

Someday he would. That day could be today. One never knew.

No, he had fled, because he had the feeling that someone was watching him. He didn't know how, he didn't know from where, but someone was watching him. If Kasumi had been there, she would have told him that it was his parents watching him from the stars. But Evander knew his parents weren’t looking at him.

When his parents looked at him from the stars, it was always with love, even when they reprimanded him for doing something wrong. Every time Evander was about to talk back to Kasumi, every time he was going to take something that clearly belonged to someone else even though he didn't need it, or every time he was going to be rude to a stranger just because he was having a bad day, his parents frowned at him and prevented Evander from doing so.

Because they loved him. Even from the stars, they loved him.

That look was nothing like his parents'. That one was full of terror, anger, and resentment.

But who’s gaze was that?

He kept running.

Was it someone from the stars?

No, that didn't make sense. Only good people were in the stars.

He stopped in the next alley, a few blocks away. Evander looked back.

No one was following him.

He swallowed. The backpack was heavier than he expected. He sat it on the ground and rubbed his hands together before carefully opening it.

Please make it the treasure of a retired mobster who is remorseful for his actions.

They were books. What a nerd.

He wished books were food.

Despite his disappointment, he hugged the backpack like it was a teddy bear. If he had learned anything in all that time, it was that there was nothing they couldn't take advantage of. Maybe those books became decorations. Or they could be a new source of stories. Or maybe they could actually eat then...

Then, a hand took off his cap. He screamed in horror.

All of his red hair was exposed.

Evander felt chills immediately.

They were going to recognize him. They were going to know it was him.

He turned around, still holding the backpack. Suddenly, an older boy materialized in front of him and tried to snatch it from him.

They struggled for a while. Evander didn't know if he was too strong or the boy was too weak.

His hands were beginning to ache...

“GIVE ME MY BACKPACK!”

The backpack broke. The older boy fell backwards and Evander hit his nose on the floor. Lots of notebooks, books, and loose sheets of paper were blown up like an explosion.

Evander's eyes were watery and his body was aching. To his right, he found a closed jackknife. The older boy was still trying to recover from the blow when Evander took it and he opened it.

He had never held a jackknife before.

Evander pointed at the older boy just as he sat down. “Leave me alone!” he screamed. “Go away!”

But his words only made him more enraged. The boy grunted and stretched out his hand.

He was going to take him. Evander was convinced that he was going to take him.

“I am Thomas Freud!”

He froze. “Thomas Freud?”

“Yes!” Evander screeched. “Yes, I am Thomas Freud! Don't come near me!”

I’m not Evander Jr. I swear, I am not Evander Jr. I am not the one you’re looking for. Please just leave me alone.

He ignored him and reached out again. Evander slashed his palm slightly and the monster swore underneath. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I know you are not Thomas Freud!” he shouted.

His throat went dry at that moment. “No, I am! I swear! That’s my name!”

“It is not true!” he answered, pointing at him with his finger. “I know that because I met Thomas Freud and I hope he is rotting in the last circle of hell!”

He couldn't take it anymore.

Evander broke.

He knew it. That boy, that monster knew. He knew who he really was, he knew what he had done, he knew they were looking for him. The monster was going to take him to the other monsters. They would kill him as they had killed his parents, Mama Bertha… they would go after Kasumi too. They were going to kill her too and everything would have been his fault.

Everything was always his fault.

The monster snatched the jackknife from him with a slap.

He knew immediately what was next.

“Please …” he mumbled. “Don’t hurt me please…”

The monster lost its enraged expression immediately. He blinked hard and looked at him like it was the first time he had. His face twitched, but Evander's gaze was so clouded by tears that he couldn't make out what he was feeling.

He looked at the jackknife. He looked at the street. And then he looked at him.

“Please…”

Please let me live one more day, Mr. Monster.

The monster took off his jacket and put it under Evander's nose. “Raise your head,” he asked. “It's just ... your nose is bleeding.”

Evander looked down at his pants. It had tiny drops of blood on it.

He raised his head.

The monster's jacket smelled like mud and like the peppermint tea Mama Bertha used to drink at night.

That was weird. That was not how he remembered monsters smelled. Monsters smelled of garbage, rocks, and fire. They didn’t smell, like… good. Nor did they speak with such a soft voice, or had traces of tears on their cheeks.

It was a... peculiar monster.

After a minute, the monster put his jacket back on. He still had the cap that he had ripped from his head in his hand. Evander took it without warning and quickly put it back on, making sure not a single red hair was visible. He dusted his hands with dirt from the floor and rubbed them over his face to cover his freckles.

The monster stared at him for a few more seconds. He didn't say anything else and left.

Evander smiled. With his cap and his freckles covered, he didn't recognize him anymore.

What an idiot monster.

But a monster after all.

Kasumi was in the lair. Whenever one went out, the other stayed to watch that no one went in while they were gone.

She was extremely calm, sitting on the mat, daydreaming.

She was fine.

Evander ran to hug her. Kasumi was startled by it but returned the hug. Immediately, she felt something was wrong.

Kasumi took him by the cheeks. “Vandy, are you all right?” she asked him. “Did someone hurt you?”

Evander shook his head. “Then what’s—”

"I saw a monster today,” he replied. Kasumi shuddered. She moistened her hands and tried to wipe the dirt off his face. “No, don’t. When I covered my freckles, he left. Dirt saved me.”

Kasumi removed her hands from his cheeks. “A monster, huh? Like the ones we’re afraid of?”

He shook his head again. “He wasn't wearing any red. But he was a monster. You have to believe me, he was a monster.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I believe you, Vandy.”

Kasumi leaned on the wall so that Evander could sit between her legs and lay his head on her chest. The afternoon sun came through the glassless window and warmed his face with its light. She stroked his hair. Kasumi knew how much it calmed them both to do that. “What was this monster like? Did... they had wings?”

“Wings? No, no, no wings. It was... tall," he recalled. “He wanted the backpack, but when he could take it, he didn't. His hair was curly and�� he had cried.”

Kasumi stroked her chin. “Hmm, I see. I think I've heard of those kinds of monsters.”

“Are there many kinds of monsters?” Evander asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Kasumi replied. “But you don't have to worry about them.”

“How are you so sure?”

She bit her lip and looked around as if she was afraid someone might overhear. Finally, when she made sure no one else paid attention to them, Kasumi whispered, “Because monsters are afraid of candy.”

Evander allowed himself to laugh a little. “Of candy? What a bunch of idiots, who is afraid of candies?”

“Monsters only.”

He was about to laugh again when he remembered a small detail. “But we don't have candy,” he stressed. “Or do you have a secret reserve you haven't told me about?”

“Well, I don't have candy, that’s right.” Kasumi took him by the hands. They were still stained with dried blood. “But you do, Vandy. Here. Inside you.”

Then he remembered. “Candy for the soul.”

Kasumi nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Next time a monster tries to hurt you, you attack it with candy.”

He looked at his hands for a moment more. “Is that why you never use your powers against monsters? Because you know they’re immune to them?”

He felt his friend's body shudder again. “Yes, that’s why.”

“And is that why I could defeat the monster from that night? The night of the attack?”

“Yes. That’s why.”

A spark of pride touched his heart. No one else and no one less than him had managed to end a monster attacking him with his worst nightmare. And he hadn't even known until now.

But the spark of pride was quickly extinguished when he realized that there were still many monsters out there. And that he was never going to be big and powerful enough to kill them all.

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