#the more asks about writing i answer the more i must seem like a hack of a writer :v | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ramennoodlezzzao3 · 3 months

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nobody asked me to answer, but I’m gonna anyways 😝

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats

Idk how to do that lol

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I couldn’t find any fics that I wanted bc I’m too specific, so I started writing. It was purely for fun and I wasn’t fully thinking about the fact that people might actually read it AND enjoy it lol

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

me and some of my moots from TikTok created this playlist lol (it’s, like, 14 hours long)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? Idk what that means but ima go off of what I’m thinking and that is just editing while proof reading and I enjoy it! 10/10

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🙏👉😁🔥💀 (no, it’s not abt the burning church 💀🙏)

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

I’m new here, I have no EXTREMELY close moots so idk. But @paul-ster seems pretty chill so probably them (

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

I HAVE SO MANY I LOVE! But if I had to choose rn Soracha for the author and “Ron Weasley and His First Year at Hogwarts” by snoopy_owl. Two of my favs!

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?

none, believe it or not. I constantly check it for ao3 updates. But I also have three separate yt accounts so I get regular emails abt comments and updates and I normally check them everyday. The only exception is one email I use for spam sites like grammarly, that email has 408 unread emails.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@fictionalcharactergraveyard

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

ooo, neither tbh. Unless its a one-shot or a mini fic where I add a S/O or like my unpublished Uber fic where I had to add several OG characters, I don’t like adding new ones bc I think it disrupts the story a lot and I normally don’t read fics when people do that. And personally, unless it’s the ones that are supposed to be halrious and satire, I think self-inserts are kinda cringey bc most people who write them over-sexulize the characters and add weird stuff in that makes me cringe (key word: MOST not ALL) but also I just cant imagine myself dating someone let alone my comfort characters.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I don’t think I have any

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

I just can’t get into the writing mood. But when I start it’s really hard to stop

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

PURLY! I love to think Curly calls pony “Mi Amor” or like calls him pet names in Spanish. I think it’s really cute

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

literally don’t be fake as hell. Don’t be all shy and sweet like, if you are comeback or Yapping king/queen then tell me bc we can yap together. Like, If I can call you Pookie within the first four interactions, we are besties, considered us married at that point

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I’m redecorating my room, I got a new puppy, and- wait, bitch, who gives a fuck, let’s be honest 💀🙏

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

can’t say bc it’s an unpublished chapter of a on going fic 😝

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Harry Potter is kinda an ass

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don’t write anything too bizarre so I can’t think of anything

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

strive to accomplish what you set as a goal, not what society set as a standard or a must

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

My comfort character gets ignored hard core, makes new friends, get into shenanigans, and then a lot of angst ensues. Who would write it best? Mmm…Fictionalcharacter graveyard or Soracha

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

if you have a scene you want to write for a fic, start writing it but ONLY WRITE THE DIALOGUE. You can add who said it but I do it all the time and it gives me new ideas and gradually helps me continue a fic. It’s also easier to add detail in between when you are focused on that instead of getting to the next dialogue scene.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

Nick Sturniolos iconic “Then he will taste the rainbow while he goes out”

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

“I LOVE THIS, I CAN’T WAIT FOR ANOTHER CHAPTER!” Then they go on an entire yap session about how they think the fic will turn out or parts they’re excited for. It always makes me happy to see someone enjoy my hobby as much as I do even though we have different perspectives 🤭

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Alr, ik im gonna get backlash but i cant stand Cherry Valence. 1. I will give it to her, she’s a downright badass.

2. her hair is really pretty

3. She was nice to pony at the drive in, I’ll give her some points (still don’t like her too much tho)

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?

Not much. Okay, this is gonna sound so fricking clique but that last lie I told was “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired” even though I know damn well I’m probably depressed asf

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I have only older siblings and every time one moves out, I stop talking to them so I don’t become the annoying youngest sister, so I’m afraid their gonna forget about me, and they probably will. I only have two siblings that still live with me so that’s only two more people left to forget me before I’m totally alone lol. (Depressed, see?)

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

book writers that can describe really well.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I think I’m too impatient and give myself an unrealistic deadline for stuff

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

I like them a lot!

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

I’ll add that later lol

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

it was a name my family wouldn’t be able to find. I’m embarrassed to write bc my family LOVES to pick out your insecurities and hobbies and never let you live them down.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

again, I’m new here, so nobody here is my “supporter” but @shae-pine has liked all of my posts so ig them? I got to say, that “The Youngest (The Favorite)” fic I really liked! Ur also just the sweetest person ever! 😭🫶🏻

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I have 7 (I had 8 but my cat passed away yesterday, RIP in the comments for Sophie 🩵)

I won’t post pics because that’s a large file 😭🙏

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

I DONT HAVE THE LINK BUT I LOVE THIS

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

self insert, too much OOC scenes, pairings I don’t like, oc’s/characters unless it’s the character I’m reading abt, pure smut or p*rn, over sexulization or romanticizing R*pe, over detailed non-con, specific characters are dead, and the fic doesn’t focus on a character that I wanna read about.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #ao3 #fanfic #ao3 writer #harry potter #ron weasley #questions #writers on tumblr #Spotify

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seasideretreat · 1 year

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Vernunft

What is the meaning of life? Elevation, said dad. Or at least, that was how he summarized the better things in life. It reminds me, in his diction, of a statement by the illustrious Homi Bhabha, one of the founding figures of postcolonial theory, infamous for his shitty prose: when asked what the point of the humanities was, he answered sartorially: "Interpretation". These are supposedly great minds, luminous stars of the thymocracy. Philosophy is the enterprise where we must seek the meaning of life. Philosophy is religion. But it is not simple. Religion is wrong, in many ways, whereas philosophy is difficult, or challenging. If only we could speak German, or Latin. I wonder sometimes if German is a classical language. Probably not, because so many proles speak it. And what about Dutch? It seems Dutch is just a dialect of German, but if so it is probably akin to Mandarin and Cantonese. For all that, though, Dutch is less beautiful than German, in the sense that it can't communicate our sensibilities. Sense and sensibility. In that title, I find truly the magnificence of English, but also, I am reminded of the terrific poverty of an English world. Perhaps English will die out. It's better than French, and yet French is so much more rich, in some ways, than English. But English is evocative, Lord. It's arcane. Genteel. Lordly. Mystical. Magical. Oh, but if we speak good Dutch, isn't Dutch a great language? It is a very wordy language, special in that it can state things very precisely and hilariously. Hilariously in the sense of being full of fun. So here are three words: ingenuity, vernuft en Vernunft. English, Dutch and German. The last word is poetic, elevating. The second word is precise, clear. The first word is honest. English can be honest. Maybe it is harder to lie in English, harder to bullshit people, but we all know that Latinity can really obscure one's true meaning in English, Latinity or Frenchness, either one works, I think.

Linguistics is depressing, I presume. Literary theory is aggrevating. I studied History, I also studied Area Studies. I suppose we need a set of prejudices to really write, but we also need liberty. If we can let our stream of consciousness flow, things are good. We ought to think for ourselves. Still, there is a social component to theory. Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar; sometimes, we have got to say something. That's liberty, also. They talk about this in psychology, deeming true psychology to be peaceful communication. Communication is a very important word. Theory can be a pastime. Psychology can be small talk. Fuck me, the whole idea of writing is faith. Writing is the essence of religion, you only need to consider the sutras, bibles and qurans of the world to see this. The area of faith is an arena where we can find true musicality. Philosophy ought to be music, in the sense that it should be totally abstract, but there is also the aspect of theology, or history. A philosopher should not be a raconteur. Nonetheless, raconteurship is fun, elevating, recreating. It is a hobby. I don't know. I once thought I was a Deleuzian. Today, I still find myself hacking into deleuzianism, becoming decentrered in the creation of concepts, like a philosopher; but that ain't the whole story, there is much to be thought; consistency, systematicity and ideation. But ideation is, in a lot of ways, the essence of deleuzianism; whereas wisdom, sagacity, is the essence of laconicism, or pithiness. Writing in slogans, that was a deleuzian idea. So by history we can mean the self. Does that make you a philosopher? A often said, every man is his own philosopher, but I no longer uphold those words - I doubt them. Doubt, and certainty, are categories. In philosophy, we often encountered the whole release of the mind into wild speculation, or unhistorical thought, but that was never the point. The point was to be like Marx, to write "the point is" and then provide some kind of world-shocking truth, but words fall short. Again, writing is faith. Is writing a faith? In the work of Derrida, you might recognize it as such, but who is Derrida? Who is Deleuze? Who is Winston Churchhill? To ask that final sentence, is almost to insult the legacy of that heroic man, but maybe he was just an asshole. But still, a liberator-asshole. Writing is faith, not a faith, but how can we be sure? How can we not-doubt it? I don't know?

I actually mistyped something. I said I used to say every man is his own philosopher, but I actually said every man is his own historian. Every man is his own self. Every man collapses on himself and becomes schizophrenic. Autistic. Depressed. Who was Leonard Cohen? Can you be a philosopher and a poet? What's wrong with Bob Dylan? Was Leonard Cohen crazy? Is Bob Dylan boring? They were all just men at work. Some people say that history is a craft. Nobody says that about philosophy. My dad said the point of life is elevation. I say it is edification. I don't fucking mean that, or maybe I do. Maybe I fucking do. But then I am still reiterating, obscurely, my father's words, and there is nothing wrong with that, because he was a smart man, probably. And these are all very pragmatic statements, from a philosophical point of view. So in the end, perhaps that is something we must learn to do, to be pragmatic in philosophy. Still, philosophically, that doesn't make much sense. What about using one's mind? Fucking hell.

I want this post to be fun, but I don't find philosophy fun enough, maybe - I always just worked it, didn't enjoy it or play it. I didn't get off on it, or whatever. I wasn't into it. I can't be pragmatic, whilst doing it, and I can't stop thinking. For it to be work, you have to be pragmatic; which is a weird thing to say. But it might be true, just like so many of Socrates' statements. Why are we pragmatic? To stop thinking. Why do we stop thinking in writing? It is a faith. So "I write" is indeed enough. That's my laconic phrase for today.

#literary theory #area studies #rhetoric #laconic phrase

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clouds-rambles · 3 years

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hello!~ o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

can i request headcanons for kaeya, diluc, childe, and venti on what they would while their s/o dies in their arms? (if thats okay with u <3)

thank u sm! :))

BESTIE THE PAIN I FEEL RN!!! Omw to make hurt some of my faves hope you enjoy <3

Also guys I’ve been here for a day how are there almost 50 of you following?!

Pairings; (Separate) Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Venti x reader

Warning(s); hurt, big hurty, reader death, vague wound description, cursing, talk about dead bodies

Keep reading under the cut!

Kaeya

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were meant to live forever with him. You were supposed to grow old with him and become a parent to your future children. You were-

“Kaeya” you choke out smiling at your partner above you. The man shakes his head mentally pleading with you to not die “Kaeya I will always be on the wind” you tell him, a shaky, bloody hand raised to his cheek to weekly caress it

“Please” he pleads “Please don’t die on me [name]” you smile at him feeling the breaths in your lungs disappear

“I’m sorry Kae--ya” you apologise before passing away in his arms

He doesn’t move for a long time. He doesn’t feel for a long time. The one person he could share his secrets and his love to gone. Away with the wind

Kaeya doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he’ll remember this one.

Your beaten, bruised, broken, dead, and beautiful body slumped in his arms as his tears fall from his face as he feels an absence in his heart

How is he supposed to live on if this is the pain he feels right now?

Jean eventually stumbles upon Kaeya out in the wilds, still clutched to your now cold and even more lifeless body

Jean manages to get the man up with your body held close to his chest

“Jean, I can’t, I can’t let them go” he pleads as if he’s waiting for you to simply wake up in his arms

“Kaeya...” Jean says in a concerned tone having never seen him in such a state, even he seemed to quickly recover from his fathers death

Eventually Jean coaxed Kaeya to go back to the city and leave your body in the hands of the sisters. Where they dressed you up and prepared a funeral service for you

The funeral was larger than Kaeya was expecting, you had affected a many more people than he realised from your small jobs around the city. Kaeya can’t help but be awed at how many people you’ve helped while you were in Mond

The usual chatter of Mondstat is quiet and in a time of grieving for about a week or so, many people have wonderful memories of you and Kaeya seems to be collecting them all, that and bunches of flowers. Many of which find themselves laying on your tombstone as Kaeya tells you about his day

A month passes and it seems like everything's back to normal, Kaeya is back to his outgoing self. He spends more nights at the tavern, but even Diluc doesn’t have the heart to cut him off.

Jean seems to pick up on the smallest things, goddamnit Jean, the extra nights at the tavern, the eyebags, the weeping she can hear from his room. In it’s own right is heart-breaking, the acting Grandmaster cannot imagine what it’s like to be actually experiencing that kind of pain

Diluc

No, not like this

You had both decided that night to join each other in your little vigilante escapade. Which was fine you had both done this before, but tonight resulted in something very different

Here you are, head on Dilucs lap. This could be considered romantic, and often was, were it not for the fact you felt like you choked up a mixture of your lung and your bloody supply

“Diluc” you speak with a much worse for wear voice, the red-head looks into your eyes, eyes already gaining moisture. A similar scene has befallen him before, a Diluc knows how this ends

“Please” he pleads his voice wavering “Please don’t leave me” he chokes back a sob and tears fall off his face the salt hitting your own

“I love you so much” you start, Diluc shakes his head. Must you hurt him so with last words? “Don’t blame yourse-” another set of hacking befalls you as you lose more blood

“Please” he pleads again as the grip you had on his arm goes slack indicating your loss of life

Diluc screams, he cries and he hugs you close. He screams into the air of Mondstat until his voice hurts and he cries until all he’s doing is dry sobbing and he holds you close until you’re broken body is pried from his own broken mind

A wondering Jean heard his screams into the night sky and hereby answered them. She never expected to see Diluc, still in his vigilante getup, crying over your body

She calls for more guards who take your body from his and Jean helps Diluc get back to the estate. At one point during the walk Jean can feel DIluc shaking and hyperventilating. So they stand for a moment, Jean holds and comforts the wine-master before they move again

Jean has never seen such emotion from Diluc before, and she wholeheartedly hopes she’ll never have to see it again. Seeing Diluc so raw and rife with emotion is enough to make anyone cry. And Jean nearly did on more than one occasion.

Your funeral is small, much to Dilucs request and really only were attended by the estate and Jean. Diluc didn’t want to cry again in such a large audience

Though the maids often hear pained sobs coming from Dilucs room as he contemplates and often blames himself for what had transpired. Maids daren’t speak up about what they hear though, Diluc’s pain is more than understandable

Diluc throws himself into work opting to man the bar most days of the week and fighting for the city as often as he can. People around him are more than concerned

Diluc’s stoic nature seems to be intensified now, not wanting to let another person in and die in his arms. He’s seen enough death for his life and wishes not to lose more loved ones

Everything seems to have moved back to what life was before you arrived in your life, depressive, monotonous, boring, mundane for the most part and sad. So very sad

He wishes for a day where his heart isn’t strife with grief, but he doubts that day will not be coming anytime soon

Childe

You grin up at him, feeling close to naught pain coming from the gaping wound thanks to the excess of adrenaline that’s pumping through your body

“Childe” you say the smile still on your lips in an attempt at not making the situation as dark and horrific as it is. Childe speaks your name in return

“I love you” you tell him mustering the strength to cup the mans cheek, who immediately nuzzles into it. The situation almost doesn’t feel real to him. He’s going to be shaken awake by a very unwounded you in just a moment and inform him he’s having a nightmare

But that moment doesn’t come. Nor do any words come from you. Your slow rhythms of your heart remind you that he’s still got time, but you’ve expended all your energy. Your smile you’re wearing seems to be dropping

“I love you [name], I love you so much, you are everything I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you” he rambles bringing your body to his chest

“Live for--- me” you sputter out into his chest, a dying wish that Childe isn’t too sure he can uphold. Is it really living if he’s an empty vessel.

You go limp in his arms and he can no longer sense your heartbeat. Death had finally laid claim to you

Childe sits with you for hours, you’d expect him to be wailing like a banshee if you knew his personality but that’s rather not the case. Sobbing quietly is a better word for what happens. Most of his sobs and hacks for air are hidden in your hair. He pulled your body to his shoulder just to weep

Eventually he finds himself mustering the courage to walk back to Liyue Harbour. You firmly held in his arms. He knows that if he walks too plainly the Millelith would pry and ask too many questions for his fragile heart to answer

Childe ends up barging into the wangsheng funeral parlour, which surprises Zhongli a little. He’s about to go on a rant to Childe about how he must book an appointment, until he sees your lifeless body in his arms

The funeral is arranged quickly and neatly. There aren’t many people who attend, Childe is okay with that, he secretly wants to see his family and cry on their shoulder a bit

Instead he opts for a letter, which arrives to the family tear stained and lacking the usual penmanship ‘I’m sorry, you won’t be able to see [name] after all. They passed away not too long ago...’ he basically writes your arbitrary in the letter. And his whole heart is in every word he writes

Determined not to let anybody in Childe finds himself in a pattern, when he’s not throwing himself into battles he’s doing paper work or yelling at his subordinates and when he’s not doing that he’s doing his weekly fight with the traveller. Childe gets next to no sleep and instead opts to reading and rereading every letter and note you’ve ever given him

If Childe passes out at his desk nobody bothers him either in fear of getting yelled at by the harbinger or an understanding of losing a loved one

They never said being a harbinger was fulfilling work. Yet, he let himself believe that he could be fulfilled and content with a lover. What a shameful lie

Venti

He’s awfully quiet. He hasn’t experienced death in so long. Especially one he thought would be forever.

He couldn’t even get to you to hear your last words. Ironic isn’t it? He hadn’t heard that guys last words either. And yet this pains him so much more

Sure mortal lives are fleeting but he was certain he had more time with you. More time to see you grow old, more time to put off your inevitable mortality. More time to-

He’s hyperventilating, Venti’s body shakes as he finds nothing to ground himself not even the person he loves so dear is there for him. He feels like he could explode, breaths caught in his throat refusing to surface and come up for air. Despite being an immortal archon, the breaths that refuse to surface don’t fail to make him feel like he’s choking

A bard he is. And one that knows every song from the past, present and future. Suddenly the pained songs from the future make sense to him. He knew what was written. A love lost

Suddenly he finds himself crying and hunched over your deceased form making promises to the wind that he’ll never forget you. Much like he’ll ever forget that bard

He isn’t sure how long has passed but he’s still sobbing over your form, there aren’t many tears left for him to cry but he can’t find himself stopping. He feels like they’ll never stop.

Maybe he could lay beside you and sleep for another thousand years. But that would only delay the inevitable. The inevitable sinking feeling.

Maybe it was his fault for letting himself fall in love with a mortal, but in the moment he could truly see you living life with him. He could see a marriage, children. He wanted you to have it all.

Damn celestia and all things above for not letting you ascend, at least when he inevitably ascends you’ll be there to greet him. Curse that and your mortality

Jean eventually stumbles upon him during a recon mission to find him covering your body in various flowers, a crown made of cecelias don your head. He’s quiet, but he’s saying goodbye. Who would blame him? Jean doesn’t interrupt him and only wishes you a farewell

News of your death spread around town like wildfire, your grave donned with more flowers than Venti can count. He almost feels bad about not doing a public service after seeing how many people are truly in mourning

Diluc doesn’t push Venti to pay his growing tab no matter how much he should. And Diluc doesn’t say no to Venti singing his happy tunes in the tavern

It feels like his life has retuned to normal. Though Jean can’t help but look out the library window to see Venti sat atop his statue with an expression, as Jean can only guess, of sadness.

Venti finds himself going back to an old schedule again but he can’t miss the nagging feeling of somethings missing. The something being you

Sometimes he half expects you to hug him from behind, or join him up at the statue, or kiss him on his nose, or-

Venti can’t quite comprehend how he feels, he just knows there’s a hole in his heart where you belonged. And he doesn’t want to let anyone find their way into there

He doesn’t want to lose again

It’s happened too much

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lyon-amore · 2 years

Text

Shall we dance?

The music keeps them together, even at a distance. A romantic moment for Jake and MC.

Genre: Romance

Doesn't contain any content +18

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After a long investigation, Jake finally told me that he could rest. I greatly appreciated it, putting the mobile aside listening to piano melodies.

My mind can't stop thinking about Jake, would he be okay? I'm worried that he'll continue with the investigation or who knows what he'd be hacking without getting some rest… Okay, it's also because I feel like talking to him. I have become too dependent on his talks, where I like how I make him talk more about me and how happy he makes him.

"Should I talk to him?" I bite my lip looking at my mobile “Or should I leave him alone?”

Shyly, I pick up the item looking at the chat. I take a couple of deep breaths and write to him.

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Hey Jake Jake Excuse me, MC.

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We speak at the same time. I can't help but smile, it seems that we have synchronized.

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Jake I suppose we can call this synchronization. :) MC Hehe, yes

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I cover my face with my phone, stifling a scream like a teenager. This couldn't be happening, right? Well, we had already talked closely... My heart is racing, I'm nervous. I have to calm down, I'm the one who has to make him nervous, not the other way around.

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Jake Please, you first. MC I just wanted to talk to you, if you're not busy Jake I was doing a couple of jobs, but I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to continue talking to you.

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I sit up in bed, picturing him blushing as he tells me. With Jake it is easy to know when something is embarrassing and surely it will have been as difficult for him to say something to me.

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MC Am I so difficult to get out of your mind?

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I dare to ask him, looking for a way to make him nervous. It takes time to answer. I guessed right. But I love it when he tells me, so I wait with soft music playing around the room.

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Jake Actually, I prefer you to always be in my head. So I feel that you are by my side. MC There might be a way for you to feel closer to me Jake I can't help but be curious. Surprise me this time you, I'm always the one who shows you everything. MC Ok, wait a minute https://youtu.be/EaUQbQ2PL-4 Let's put this link together 😄 Jake Isn't it one of those joke links? I've seen quite a few posts related to that. MC Trust me, I'm not that much of a joker Well, sometimes… Jake And that's what I like about you. That you make me laugh. ;) MC Hey, here I am the one who must make you nervous, not the other way around Jake Make you nervous?

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Is it too late to delete the message? I have written it without thinking. I don't want him to know that it was because of him that I felt butterflies in my stomach or the urge to shout how much I like it to everyone just because I needed to be able to say it. But I have to protect even my feelings from people, no one must know about Jake.

<<Someday I know that the situation may be different. >>

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MC Let's not change the subject... Jake Haha, as you wish. :) MC Okay, at 3 we put it 1… Jake 2… MC 3! Jake 3.

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I quickly rewind the video to bring it to the beginning.

The melody makes it seem to perfectly translate my feelings towards Jake. It seems like a happy melody, but slow. Just like our relationship when we talk about us.

I close my eyes thinking that he is listening to the same thing that I am at this moment. Will he feel the same when listening to the melody?

I want to ask him, but I'm afraid to interrupt the music for him.

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Jake It's nice. I'm glad I know what you like to listen to. MC Well, the melody has meaning for me Jake I understand. Somehow, listening to it makes me think of you. Is rare? MC No…. It is important for me to know. Because is also makes me think of you Jake I don’t know if it was a good idea to hear this. It seems more like torture. MC What do you mean? Jake That I'm listening to this and that I can't invite you to dance.

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My face burns, I'm sure I'm red. I swallow hard as my hands shake. It was not the first time that he said something nice to me, but…. This time, imagining me dancing with Jake, it’s made me feel good.

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MC I accept in advance that dance 🤭 Jake :) The bad thing would be that we couldn't go to a dance hall. MC Oh don't worry about that We could dance in my living room 😄 Or in your motel room Jake My room would be too small to dance. MC It is not a problem for me I would dance with you anywhere Jake But I warn you. I am very bad at dancing. MC I could teach you, there is not much to do either 😉 Jake Agree. Teach me. MC Is not difficult First you must take my right hand with your left hand Jake All right. MC Then place the other hand on my waist I would put my left hand on your shoulder Jake That easy? MC Yes I have danced enough Jake Any boyfriend? MC No Too many family weddings 😅 Jake I understand. :) And then we move slowly, right? MC Yes, to the rhythm of the music

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As I write the steps for him, I picture Jake and me in my living room.

He looked into my eyes with a smile, he would let out a small laugh surely embarrassed for not doing well. It would be beautiful...

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Jake Should I watch the movement of my feet? MC Never, you must maintain eye contact with your partner Jake With you. MC Exactly 😊 Jake :) I don't have you in front of me and imagining that I'm looking at you already makes me nervous. MC I appreciate knowing that I can have that effect on you from a distance Jake You cause a lot of sensations, MC. All of them are too good. MC Now it's going to be you who makes me blush Jake ;) And now what to do, teacher? MC Just let yourself go I would surely end up resting my head on your shoulder, happy that we are like this Jake Your hair would tickle my neck. Your presence would make me more and more nervous. MC And I could feel it You know, I'm an expert at finding out 😉 Jake If it's you, I wouldn't mind. ;)

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I laugh continuing to imagine what is written. I would have him too close... So close that...

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Jake MC? MC Sorry, I was imagining the scenario... With you it's always imagining situations that I want to happen... Jake I’m sorry. MC No, it doesn't bother me 🙂 I think that's part of what keeps me going. Jake We are the same then. MC I guess so, hehe. Jake I have imagined something else. MC What? Jake I think that in the end I would calm down and dare to look you in the eyes. I would stop dancing for just a second so I could take a good look at them. MC Jake… That would make me nervous then... Jake You are much calmer than me. MC I'm serious In that situation, the only thing I could think of when you would kiss me I would like you to stop looking at me and dare to give it to me Because if not, I would be the one who dared. Jake I could ask you first. MC You don't need to ask me Jake Then maybe I should. MC You should…

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What is happening to me? Not that he was going to kiss me now… Now, the image of a sweet kiss appears in my mind. Jake would put a hand on the back of my neck, moving closer to me. I would turn a little, approaching timidly.

Ah… My face burns…

I wait for his answer, will he say that he will kiss me? Will he write it?

‘’Why is it taking so long?’’ I wonder, waiting for him to say something ‘’He must have gotten nervous’’ I smile to myself, amused.

After a few minutes, he answers.

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Jake I'm sorry, there's been a mishap. I have to go.

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<< There go my hopes and dreams. >>

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MC Of course Please take care of yourself, okay? Jake Don't worry, I'll be careful. As always. ;) MC 😊 Jake And now I can have something to remind me of you while we can't talk. The music. And next time I will give you that kiss, I promise you.

---- Jake is offline ----

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I look at the screen looking at his last message.

Blinking. One.

Two.

Three times.

Without knowing how, I scream so high-pitched that the neighbors next door yell at me, not realizing it was too loud. I take a screenshot, to record that he said it if it occurs to him to delete it out of embarrassment.

I take the phone to my chest, hugging it tightly. One day we will dance together, without having to do it on the phone. And then I will have his real kiss.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #story #romance #everbyte game #everbyte studios #duskwood everbyte #everbyte

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artcupcakes · 2 years

Note

Yo could you give me some advice on Clover's character (how she speaks, how she acts, etc)? It's for a project I'm working on.

Also if you have the time, could you give advice for Houston too?

I can do that however I must put one disclaimer before I go into it: I am not the biggest Clover fan(I don't hate her, and she's a fun character, I just like some of the other characters like Hoxton or Bonnie more) thus I might be the best for advice. I will try my best but @vieridebitchtits has a better feel and passion for the character. So I imagine they might have better answers/answers I might not be able to give!

As for Houston, well Houston's probably one of my favorites but I started hyperfixating on something else on a different blog(The reason for the delay in the response) so I won't do him now, but I might come back and comb through his character.

With that disclaimer I will try my best under the cut.

Heads up here's how I'm going to organize things so you can just skip and skim to what you might need.

I'm going to start of with telling you how I go about preparing/researching. Understanding the reasons how I did it might be useless to you, but I'm doing it just in case you need context as to how I did certain things. Really I do this before I write any piece surrounding those major characters; and I use said research to make more grey area conclusions. Both about the character's personality and background as well as certain skill sets I can extrapolate from it. This is of course can be seen as a more general tool that can be applied to any character.

I'm not saying that this way is the best, it's just what I do. If you find this style of research is too much or simply not worth it than try to find something that better works for you.

Each person's brain is different and not everyone can hyper-focus on a task like this.

After that I'm going to do the thing that you actually asked for aka not my rambly nonsense aka an actual breakdown analysis of Clover. I hope said analyses helps with your understanding of the character. The idea is the more you understand how she works, you can begin to put her in new scenarios based on such. Like plugging in numbers in a math equation!

If any of this seems unnecessarily excessive, that's because it is!

I will make sure to mark each section clearly.

Research Method

Typically I will start with the character's Wiki page. Paying close attention to the FBI file both for things to extrapolate from canon(Though note they are shaky with the gang doing everything to lie, hack, and manipulate information about them. So take them with a grain of salt), from there I go into the character's history section and pair it against the Prior to PAYDAY 2 section.

From there I look through the Trivia as there you can find things highlighted from multiple area's. A good example being the trivia section highlighting crossover characters places in the world and how it connects to their own original continuities canon.

Then I go into the Quotation page.

However keep in mind that the Quotation page often does not have every single voice line and are often missing some due to the amount of voice lines in game(Sokol's page is still missing a voice line that goes along the lines of "Heartbreaker and drag her nails into you, that is pain") thus it's better to listen to all the voice lines in one of the many voice line videos. I personally use this playlist(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDcDPHGUZDo&list=PL20G3IYPDSS0c4NbXUVwo85mTYp1pQ0oC&index=7) myself but there are other options, and you might need other options if you're looking for Bain, Locke or any other such non heister voice lines.

Of course listing to the voices also helps me personally recognize the character style of speech, or more accurately helps me see how they emphasize words and how they're accent affects their speech. Plus I personally try to imagine their voices reading the lines I write, but I know that not everyone can do that as that is an aspect of imagination. And well not everyone has that nor does everyone have it to that extent/those uh "skills".

From there I go to both other heister's quote pages.

This is to see if they have any sort of character related stuff in order to help visualize the relationships between the characters. You can find surprisingly a lot. Especially the safe house quotes as that also gives you an idea of what they're like outside of their stressful jobs that can pull out their hyperbolic worst and best versions of themselves.(Funfact: Both Dragan and Bodhi seem to have a close enough relationships to Houston to give him advice[that seems unsolicited btw]. This that can really only be seen from the safe house lines).

After that goes the more final deep dive which is outfit and weapon descriptions. Though the latter I rarely do, the outfits do have a good bit of lore. (A good example of this would be the The Vicious, Pasadena Buzzbomb telling us that Sydney, knows Russian, and has given Vlad a bloody nose.)

If I'm feeling super venturous I might check out their area in the safehouse as people's area's can tell you something about them.(I still want to know who the people hugging are in that framed picture above Dallas's desk).

And that's how I usually go into writing about a character.

Of course as I said to each their own and don't be upset if this so obviously mentally ill way of doing things doesn't work for you ;).

Either way here's what I've noticed about Clover and Houston using this method.

Clover Character Analysis

According to the FBI files, Clover favors the L-95 assault, something that's only issued to the military.

You could extrapolate this as a possible background but given her age of joining the Payday Gang at age 24 shows that it's very unlikely. UK minimum Military Service Length might not be the US's hefty 8 minim years(4 active years followed by 4 reserved) but it still something when it comes to Clover's past. As she could've only served after she turned 18. But we also know that she spent a good bit of time mentoring under Hoxton, so her squeezing in those times of service seems unlikely. And of course this is assuming she's from Northern Ireland aka part of the UK's Military derestriction.

This is of course a lengthy reasoning and debunking of a reasoning that can be occom razor’ed: We know for a fact when she left Hoxton high and dry she stole a lorry full of L-95s. Thus she probably got it there while she and Hoxton did some level of gun smuggling and/or peddling.

These actions also suggests a level of paranoia, disrespect for bounties, and a level of initiative. Combine that with her spy cam room and it's very clear other's failures such as Hoxton's imprisonment has only compounded her issues.

Speaking of initiative based on what we know Rochelle here seems to have been called Clover long before joining the gang, meaning that at least back across the sea, people recognize her name. Her alias and her mask also show a deep pride for her cultural heritage as well as having a lot of colloquialisms. So due your research on Ireland, as it seems to be a big part of her identity unlike say Wick who's got others things that are more important to him as a character.

Of course her speech patterns match more like Hoxton with her sunshine nicknames and marriage towards the word fuck, amount other things. Her irish accent just like all accents leaves to modifying letters. I would give an example but then again based on where you are you might interpret the verbalization of accent’s via text to be different. Thus making any attempt outside my qualificationgs.

So like measurements in an old recipe, you just gotta feel it out and hope you pass the vibe check.

As seen in The Diamond Heist trailer her care for legends is clear and their are implications that she questions and has a paranoia toward possible history revisionism, though tbf considering what happen to the Irish, that's pretty fair.

Though her fear goes far beyond just paranoia, she’s very guarded. She hates being seen or others that are fearful and weak, which implies some level of self loathing she refuses to show. From constantly threating civis, to trying to play off her pain, to her lines when dealing with downed crew members. She has a tough guy act that unlike Hoxton or Rust doesn't seem to let up even in moment's by herself.

This is probably something that has been with her in childhood due to growing up in a "rough house on the rough part of town in a traditional fighter's family" which also means that she has actual background in fighting unlike some who might just be street styling it or mimicking what they saw in action movies. And she clearly has a love for it.

Fighting and being in the action, maybe it grounds her, but it's most likely the pure sadism she shows both towards her enemies and allies.

Even still she very much lives in her head, doubts about everyone around her and maybe even herself are scattered all through her words, both light heartedly and not so much. She also is one to gush about her passions, clearly all excited to show off her surveillance system once it's all upgraded.

This could also be seen as her looking to impress as well.

Of course until you do upgrade her area she is full of classist comments, perhaps hating things that remind her of her own rough up bringing. She also has some more casual anti-Russian views, something she has in common with Houston(though Houston's dialogue clearly implies that thanks to his friendship with Sokol, he's starting to move on from those beliefs)

While not as major to her character at it's core more simpler things about her is her love for comics, as shown with her referencing both The Walking Dead, and Captain America(Which she calls Dallas thus continuing her clear nicknaming habits). She also is a whiskey drinking suggesting using the John Wick method of reliving pain while you revive her. She seems to take the most pride in her killing of dozers and shields, she also seems to scream in fear at them.

Now let’s talk work relationships:

Her major friendships seem to be Hoxton and Bonnie.

With Hoxton she still shows signs of that old mentorship but now with a jokingly flirty dynamic added. Though interestingly this is only on Clover's side, which is funny because Hoxton is clearly while soft shows more of a prideful older brother/father style dynamics and that's if you stretch what is clearly just a normal long time friendship/mentor dynamic(unlike whatever the hell is up with him and Wolf).

Meanwhile her and Bonnie seem to have a more destructive drinking buddy enabler dynamic. Both of them causing trouble for everyone else. With their equal levels of craving chaos and being very nosey means that they most definitely are a horrible combo to be a victim of.

Interestingly enough she seems to have some sort of banter friendship with John Wick or at least something friendly enough to make Wick be the one to start and engage in conversation, making a joke by saying "Irish Luck huh?". This could also be a culture inquiry since Wick as shown in his movies seems to have an imply fascination for learning such new things.

Other than that though there's not much to gleam from her relationships with anyone.

And just like her relationships, she doesn't have any clothing lore either, I was hoping there would be something but hey beggars can't be choosers.

All in all, Clover is a very guarded character who opens up just enough for banter but is very allergic to everything else.

Or at least that's what I could find. I hope this helps! :D

#I tried my best #Clover Payday 2 #Payday 2 #character analysis #Clover Payday #Clover Character Analysis #Rochelle Clover #Payday #Payday Gang #The Payday Gang #long post #ACresponds #ACspeakshermind #Textpost #Test Post #Tell me if I forgot to tag anything

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talatomaz · 4 years

Text

crossing paths pt.ii | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. i’m not sure if I like how this went tbh but oh well

warnings: mentions of fighting

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

Home Sweet Home.

Exiting the train station, you exhaled a deep breath and took in your surroundings. Most importantly, the huge sign that had “WELCOME TO CENTRAL CITY” scrawled across the board.

After the events of the day, you’d decided that the best course of action would be to make your way to this Earth’s Central City.

You’d figured they had to have a Star Labs which you knew would hold the necessary equipment you needed to fix the extrapolator or at least the communication function so you could contact Cisco.

Luckily, whilst on your journey, you’d managed to hack into the train’s wireless computer so you could then erase the museum’s security footage from your phone. The footage of your fight with the robbers was the last thing you needed getting out.

Hailing a cab, you made your way to Star Labs, having pocketed one of the maps that detailed the route to the facility from the train station.

In little over 20 minutes, you had arrived. Paying the driver with what little cash you had left, you craned your neck to look up at this Earth’s Star Labs.

It was different to the one back home. Yes, it was modelled fairly similarly but this had a more...robotic feeling and was definitely a lot darker than yours.

Though you supposed that was because this Star Labs seemed to be more full, several employees walking in and out of the building.

Whereas the Star Labs back home, whilst full of technology, was only home to Team Flash and no one else. The risk far too great for ordinary people to see what you were doing.

Entering the building, you quickly donned a white lab coat and went in search for the equipment you needed to fix the breach device.

Finding a secure room, you put on your mask and used your powers to open the door.

As you walked in, you let out a small gasp. The room was larger than you’d expected; filled to the brim with computers and screens all hooked up to one another. Making your way to one of the larger ones, you began writing a line of code. Then you took out the extrapolator, placing it on the table and grabbed some tools that were on the desk.

You started to mend the broken device, remaining careful and alert incase someone was going to catch you. You were about halfway through when you felt a familiar rush of air and found yourself in an unknown area.

Not unlike Star Labs, it was filled with computers and the like but also held training equipment in the far side of the room. Then you felt yourself tied to the back of a chair, staring up at a group of men.

You recognised most of them, except the one that could only be described as a half-man, half-cyborg hybrid.

“Oh fuck.” You murmured to yourself.

This was all you needed.

To be captured by none other than Batman, Superman and the Flash.

“Yes, indeed. Who are you?” Superman asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

You narrowed your brows, analysing each of their outfits. This Earth’s Superman outfit was different to the one back home. Batman, you’d never really met before so you couldn’t comment.

But the most interesting was the Flash’s outfit.

It appeared to be made up of metallic materials whereas Barry’s was made out of intense heat-resistant and abrasion resistant polymer and some other stuff that Cisco had explained to you that you didn’t take note of.

“More importantly, where are you from?”

You heard a familiar voice say behind you.

You turned your body, as best you could since you were confined to a chair, and felt your jaw drop at the female who stood before you.

Not only was she the woman you’d met earlier at the museum but she was freaking Wonder Woman!

“Holy shit. Cisco is going to be so jealous he didn’t come here.”

“Who’s Cisco? And where did you come from?”

Not giving you time to answer, the brunette continued, “I saw you earlier at the Metropolis museum. You told me about the criminals.”

“We tried to pull the security footage but it had mysteriously been erased.” The man you nicknamed Cyborg said. “Why were you at Star Labs?” He asked.

“You know. You gotta let a girl answer before you continue asking questions.” You joked.

“This isn’t a joke. Tell us who you are.” Batman spoke for the first time, his voice coming out hoarse and rough. Probably from a voice distorter.

“I will. As soon as you untie me.”

When the five of them stared at you, you sighed.

“Guess I’ll do it myself then.”

With a flick of your fingers, the ropes that bound you came loose and you stood to face the group.

They immediately went into fighting stances, ready to take you down if need be.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” you scoffed, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just don’t like being tied up. Unless we’re in the bedroom.” You teased, laughing to yourself.

“You’re a meta.” Wonder Woman commented.

Placing your hand in your pockets, you were about to reply when you felt that they were empty.

“Wait, where the hell is the extrapolator?”

“Oh, you mean this?” The Flash said, holding the device in his hand.

“Give that to me.” You ordered, charging your way to the speedster before Batman stood in your way.

“I don’t think so.”

“Barry, that is not something to play around with. Give me that.” You repeated.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” He paused, everyone’s eyes trained on you.

“It’s a long story. Now please, put down that device.” You sighed when he placed it on the table beside him.

When he put it on the surface, he must have accidentally pressed a button because Cisco’s body popped up like a hologram.

“What on Earth?” You heard Wonder Woman say.

“Y/N! Where the hell are you? Woah, is that Batman?!” Cisco’s voice crackled through the device as the hologram glitched.

“Cisco, the device broke. Can you track what Earth I’m on using the GPS?”

“I can try. But I need you to fix the small chip that’s in the extrapolator first.”

The Cisco hologram glitched out and faded away.

“Shit.” You murmured to yourself.

“What do you mean ‘what Earth’? Who are you?” Batman said.

Sighing, you spoke, “I’m not from this Earth.”

“You’re an alien?” Barry exclaimed.

“What? No! The only alien here is Clark.”

You gestured towards the Man of Steel.

“How do you know who I am? Did Lex send you?”

“Oh, please. As if I’d work with that idiot. Besides, I like his sister much better. As I was saying, I’m from an Earth called Earth Prime.”

Then you gave them all a brief explanation of the rebirth of the Universe and how you’d arrived here.

“Ever heard of Everett’s many-worlds theory? Simply put, this Earth is not the only Earth that exists. I come from a parallel Earth where I work with the Flash and several other heroes, including Supergirl and Batwoman. Though no one’s seen Kate in a while.”

Looking into each of their eyes, you could still see apprehension.

Facing Wonder Woman, you held out your wrist, “Use your lasso of truth and you’ll see I’m not lying.”

“How did you-”

She started before you interrupted her, “Do it and then I’ll explain.”

You watched as she removed the rope from her armour and wrapped one end around your wrist.

Your eyes widened as the rope started to glow a bright yellow, the material feeling warm against your skin.

“What I just said was true. And I know about all of you. Your parallel selves are my family and friends back home. And Wonder Woman-”

“You may call me Diana.” She interjected, flashing you a kind smile.

“And Diana,” you corrected, “you’re somewhat of a Legend where I come from. I visited Themyscira once, it was beautiful.”

“My home is hidden from Man’s world. How did you see it?”

“My sister, Sara, travels through time with her team and when I worked with her for a brief period, my friend, Zari, and I, took Helen of Troy to your island to save her. Anyways, you do exist on my Earth but no one really knows of you.”

Diana stared at you for a few moments, her intense glare making you weak in the knees, if you were being honest.

It was as if she was looking right into your soul.

Whatever she saw must have pleased her because her gaze faltered and she removed the lasso from you.

“She’s telling the truth, guys.”

“Thank you. Now I need to fix the extrapolator or I won’t be able to get home.”

“So that little thing can make anyone travel between worlds?” Cyborg asked.

“Yes, exactly.”

“It’s like one of those damned mother boxes that almost destroyed our world.” Bruce said harshly. “We can’t risk having that here. We need to destroy it.”

“Don’t even think about it.” You spat out, your hands clenched at your sides.

You narrowed your eyes, watching for any indication of movement from the vigilante.

The only warning you had was Bruce’s muscle tensing before he reached for the table that held the device.

In a quick motion, you used your powers to throw the former into a pile of boxes to break his fall.

The playboy rose to his feet and charged at you, ignoring the shouts of his team.

You blocked his punch and deflected his kick. Ducking when he swung his arm, you used all your strength to throw him over you.

He reached into his cape and you flung whatever he was about to hurl at you into the wall. He swiped at your legs, making you stumble to the ground. You picked yourself up and when he ran at you, once more, you used your powers of telekinesis to rise in the air above him.

You extended your hand in front of you and lifted him in the air to face you. He struggled within your hold before you both looked down at Diana who’d shouted.

“Enough! Y/N, put Bruce back on the ground.”

With a crash, Bruce fell to the floor whilst you gracefully landed upright on your feet.

“Bruce, this device isn’t as harmful as the mother boxes. And it is her only way home, we cannot destroy it.”

Diana said calmly as Bruce huffed and murmured a curse.

“Listen, Batboy. I will kick your ass again if you don’t shut up.” You said, meaning every word.

“I’m not trying to be hostile here but I only came here to prove my theory which I’ve clearly done so now I just want to repair the device and go home.”

Walking over to the table, you picked up the extrapolator and inspected it. Your heart dropped when you saw a crack in the chip.

You knew that there was no way to fix the locator.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

Your voice not strong enough to answer, you shook your head. Clicking the communication button, you saw Cisco’s hologram appear again.

“Y/N, have you fixed the GPS chip yet? Y/N, what’s wrong?” Your friend asked in concern.

“The chip’s broken. Majorly so. I’m going to need to replace it but the only replica of the chip is-”

“Here.” Cisco finished. “Is there a Star Labs near you?”

“Yeah, I went there earlier to fix the damage but there wasn’t any chip. I checked.”

“Okay, I just need to create another extrapolator and then somehow come and get you.”

“Cisco, you know that can take weeks.” You sighed.

“Y/N, it’ll be fine. We’ve been stuck on other Earths before. Including with a telepathic gorilla. I doubt there’s any Earth worse than that.” He said, trying to inject some levity in the conversations.

“You’re right. Look, don’t tell the team. You and I both know that they’ll just worry and I don’t need them telling Sara or Dinah either because they’re too protective. Just lie and say that I was missing Laurel and decided to take a vacation.”

“You got it. Stay safe, y/n. And keep this extrapolator with you so I can speak to you.”

“You got it. Bye, Cisco.”

Once again, the hologram faded away and you hung your head.

Cisco was right.

It was not the first time this had happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You were damned if you’d let this get you down.

Clearing your throat, you straightened and faced the group, having forgotten that they were there for the entire exchange.

“Guess I’m going to be in your hair for a little while longer.”

***

It had been 3 weeks since the day you’d arrived on this Earth.

Diana had kindly invited you to stay with her whilst you waited for Cisco to arrive. You remained in constant contact with the latter; he wanted to keep you updated on his progress.

You were still on rocky terms with Bruce, him not appreciating you beating him. He was stubborn and irritating but reminded you of Oliver in that regard.

You helped the Flash with his speed, giving him tips on how to manage it and retain his strength which you’d learned from having closely worked with Barry all these years.

You also got on fairly well with Superman and Cyborg and even met Aquaman who tried to hit on you the moment he saw you.

But out of everyone, you’d grown close to the Amazonian warrior. The first night you’d stayed with her, you found yourself talking to her all through the night until the sun had come up.

She had told you about her family back home and you told her about yours. You supposed it was easier to tell her than anyone else since she’d endured so much loss and pain and understood what it was like to be separated from her family.

“Y/N, you ready to go?”

Interrupted from your thoughts, you turned to face the beautiful brunette who had a soft smile painted on her face.

She had asked you to dinner a few days before, telling you she wanted to give you both a relaxing evening. You had graciously, and rather, immediately accepted the invitation.

The truth was that, over these past few weeks, you found yourself hoarding a crush on the Goddess.

You could have disregarded it as a schoolgirl crush but the last time you’d ever felt like this, was when you were with Thea. But that had ended amicably after she found love with Roy.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

After eating outdoors at a small bistro, the two of you strolled down the street. Then your heart skipped a beat when she slid her hand in yours.

Looking up at her, you saw a gleam in eyes as she smiled at you which you reciprocated. You basked in the feel of her hand against yours, her warmth spreading through you.

Then you both jumped when her phone started to trill in her pocket.

“Diana Prince.” She answered her phone, humming in response before disconnecting the call.

“That was Bruce. He needs us at Star Labs. Both of us.”

She answered when you opened your mouth to ask just that. Closing your mouth, you nodded and ducked with her into an alley so you could both fly to the building.

“What is it, Bruce?” Diana asked as the two of you walked into the facility.

“The mainframe’s been going crazy. It’s as if someone’s breaking in here but no one actually is.” Cyborg answered instead.

Running up to the screen, you noticed the flashing alarms on the screen.

“Well, at least you guys have better security than we do.”

Pulling up the schematics of the building, you furrowed your brows at the thermal energy reading.

Parting your lips, ready to voice your confusion, you jumped back when a breach opened up in front of you.

When it closed, it left two people in its wake.

Barry and Sara.

“Y/N, Cisco told us what happened. We’re here to take you home.”

Glancing behind you, your eyes fell on Diana whose eyes flickered between you and your friends.

“God, I’m going to kill Cisco.”

<- Part 1

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procrastinatingnerd · 3 years

Text

Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

#osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft #bicci #angel rahimi #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #juliet schwartz #bliss lai

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

#stalker x stalker #shutterbug #timari #maribat #timmari #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #yes it's all just maladaptive coping strategies #it's ME what'd you guys expect

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hacked-by-jake · 4 years

Note

Hi. Can I get 14 and 16 with Jake and MC (female) ?

No, genius. No, Ah! God!

Prompts: "I still don't trust you." and "Friendly reminder that I know how to hide a body." "That did not sound friendly at all." Words: 3,5k Warning: Bad language, an arrogant and annoying Jake, an annoyed MC, quarrel, teasing, slight sexual allusion for fun, mention of violence (for fun). A/n: Hi anon, first of all, thank you for your request. I really enjoyed writing it. And thank you for your patience. I wanted to try something new, but I hope you’ll like it anyway. Sorry for the mistakes and have fun reading! <3

Summary: Jake is an asshole, an idiot, he’s terrible and exhausting. The others call your relationship absolute hate love. Even if the hatred really predominates. He is arrogant, he is a macho and he drives you to the edge of your nerves every second. You wouldn’t say that you hate him - although.. okay yes, that’s exactly what you’re doing. And you try to avoid him as much as possible. You thought he found something important about the Man Without A Face and that’s why he’s leading you into the woods. But you forgot who you’re talking about.

(Gif is not mine)

"What the hell is your plan?" With the nerves at the end you stumble through Duskwood’s forest. Stumble over roots hidden under leaves and dirt or step into holes you can’t see. In front of you, the cheerful and whistling Jake, almost jumping over branches and bushes. "Actually, I don’t have a plan. I just thought a walk in the woods would be a nice thing for both of us" with a hypocritical grin, he turns to you. Speechless your mouth opens and you stop immediately, "WHAT?" you ask angrily. It was so clear it was just another trick. He twists his eyes and also stops walking, "Listen to me when I talk. You and me. A walk. In the woods. I can spell it for you if you want," he explains as if you were a child. You notice how your eye starts twitching suspiciously as you clench your hands into fists, "You said you had to show me something!"

However, Jake takes it with a simple giggle and doesn’t seem really worried about your anger. "Yes, I’ll show you the forest" he shrugs his shoulders and smiles his head crooked. But to your bad luck, of course, you immediately stumble over the first root that gets in your way. "Oh no" it escapes you and you wait for the impact on the forest floor, but it does not come. Instead, you feel strong arms curling around you at the last second and rescuing you from the rough impact.

You open your eyes in amazed and look directly into the equally astonished-look of Jake. His face is only a few inches away from yours. You can feel his warm breath on your skin. You notice the cherry smell of his chewing gum and also the smell of his perfume and oh damn, he really smells incredibly good.

While it’s not the first time you’ve noticed the smell, it’s the first time you notice how appealing this smell is. None of you say a word, none of you move; all you both do is stare at each other. And you don’t know if it’s just imagination, but you feel like his face is getting closer and closer to yours.

Does he want to kiss you? Do you want him to kiss you?

Well, you don’t have to think any further than a more than self-assured grin popping up on his face. And as if that conceited look wasn’t enough, he has to fire another stupid line. "Slow, slow, MC. You don’t have to pretend you’re falling, You can just ask me to put you in my arms, I would never say no." he rebukes you and shakes his head with amusement. You’re gasping for air. Wait, wait, wait. What did he say?

Instantly you writhe out of his protective arms.. uhm disgusting arms, and push him away quickly as you're back on your feet. "You-" you want to start to threatening him. "You handsome, breathtaking, perfect man! No, genius. No, also not that. Ah! God," he interrupts you and pretends to throw long hair over his shoulder. At the last moment, before you really rush like a fury at him to slap the grin out of his face, you decide to take the much easier solution.

Turn around and go. Said and done.

As elegant as possible, you stomp up the small slope without giving him another look. "Hello?" he calls after you, "Where exactly do you want to go?". "Genius, use your brain! What does it look like? I’m leaving!" You hear him giggle before he calls, "Okay". Well, great! At least you don’t have to deal with him anymore. After about 20 meters, comes the first crossing.

Shit. Which way did you come from? Left? Right? It wasn’t the middle, was it?

Desperately you put your hands in your hips and think hard about which fucking direction he dragged you into the forest. "Such a stupid crap," you grind your teeth when it just won’t come to mind. "Don’t you remember where we came from?" his voice sounds right next to your ear. Startled by the sudden sound you whirl around to him and stare up at the grinning hacker with big eyes. How come you didn’t hear him? "Oh God, do you want to kill me?" you accuse him, "You can’t sneak up on me like that!" "I thought you could hear me coming," he defends himself immediately. "Obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you get so close to me, I had half a heart attack!" "Well, then I was lucky that it was only half a heart attack, I wouldn’t want to hide your body somewhere," he teases.

"I was hoping they could lock you up for murder"!" you grumble. "Don’t worry, I know how to hide a corpse," he assures you with a wink, "They wouldn’t have caught me" "The others know we’re in the woods, if I don’t come back, you’re the only suspect, all right?" you threaten him. "Understood, I won’t kill you" he nods to confirm, "But do you really think I would do that? After everything we’ve been through?" Theatrically, he holds his hand to his left chest and painfully wrinkles the face, "You hurt my feelings," he pouts. And for the 100th time today, you’re just twisting your eyes.

"With you, nobody can know, I still don’t trust you, even after the long time". Briefly you have the feeling that something like actual grief flashes in his eyes but quickly the typical mischievous grin returns. "Anyway, can we please go now?" you sigh as you kick leaves in front of you. "But sure," he nods confirmingly, turns around and start walking. "We have to go the other way," you remind him. "To come home, yes, but I want to show you something, you remember?".

"Okay. Point one, I don’t believe you, you just want to waste my time, point two, I want to go home!" "Well, then I wish you a lot of fun to find the right way, see ya," he purrs, waved to you without turning around and just keeps going his way. He’s not really gonna leave you here, is he?

"Fuck it, I can find the way alone, Google Maps saves life" You get your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and press the button to turn on the screen. However, this is certainly not your wallpaper, nor your phone case.

This isn’t your phone.

And obviously, it can only belong to one, the idiot of Hacker. Your gaze falls on its background and you can remember exactly the day the picture was taken. It shows him, Lilly and Hannah in the Donforts' garden while they laugh at something. Hannah’s mother had taken this picture. You were there then. He has a really nice laugh. Somehow soft and melodic. Contagious. "Oh God, I spend two hours with him, and instantly go crazy," you shake your head and drive away your thoughts.

Suddenly Jake’s phone starts ringing and you hear the song 'I like you like a Love Song of Selena Gomez and The Scene'.

I, I love you like a love song, baby I, I love you like a love song, baby I, I love you like a love song, baby And I keep hitting repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat

"MC😍❤️" is on the screen.

"He can't be serious," you can’t hold back the grin that pops up on your lips. The boy is even crazier than you. Smiling, you answer the call.

"So? How do you like my personal ringtone for you?" he asks as soon as you put the phone to your ear. "Is it possible that you have too much time and boredom? How do you come up with such an idea?" "Quite simple, I- I love you like a love song" he hums the melody. "I hate you," you replied, amused. "I know, and now come, I will describe to you the way you must walk". "Pick Me Up" "No" "Now!" "Nope" "Asshole!" "Good looking" "Jake!" "Yes, honey?" "Don’t call me honey!" "Don’t call me Jake" "Oh no? How then?" "Babe?" "Oh my God" "No, babe is enough" "How -" "How can you be as perfect as Jake?" "Ok, it's enough now!" "You’re right, so, to my home or to yours, hon?" "I -" "You love me? I know" "WHAT?" "What?"

An unwanted giggle leaves your lips. Damn, even though Jake is really terribly conceited, annoying, exhausting, handsome-.. uhm an asshole, you’ve gotten used to these little teases so slowly and enjoy them occasionally. He’s an idiot, but he knows how to make someone laugh. "Oh princess can laugh" he mocks and immediately you become serious again and snort insulted. "Don't imagine anything on it" "Of course not, by the way, it’s pretty sweet that you stared at my background, I mean, I can understand. I look so good". "What? what makes you think so?" you try to deny his accusation immediately. "I have seen it" "how that?" "Quite simply, I can read your mind"

You pull the eyebrows together and keep the phone away from your ear and look at the screen and think about whether he hacked the camera, but you can’t see anything. That’s the only way he could have seen it. "Nope, not the camera," he explains as you hold the phone back to your ear. "How-?" you start, but he interrupts you as he do often. "Look to the left" he demands.

Immediately your gaze shoots in that direction and NATURALLY, he stands there. Relaxed as ever. The legs crisscross, the phone in his left hand on his ear and the right one beckons to you, "Here’s the one you’ve always been looking for. Your dream prince". Presenting himself, he spreads his arms and bows to you. "More like my nightmare," you grumble, ashamed that he apparently really saw you staring at his screen.

"As if I would just leave you here in the forest," he comes towards to you and has already hung up. "As I said, when it comes to you, nothing surprises me" "Really? You really think that I would just leave you here?" he pulls up an eyebrow and stops in front of you. "Well, when you started walking away, yes, yep I thought it". "And now I’m standing here with you again, so, let’s go" euphorically he reaches for your hand to pull you with him. "I said I was going home," you remind him.

"Oh come on, MC please. You will survive this only afternoon"

"I’m not sure, every time you are there, you cost me all my nerves"

"Come on, what have you got to lose, I beg you to share this one afternoon with me"

"Then at least tell me what you want to show me"

"I can’t, it’s a surprise"

"Be honest, you want to kidnap me and then leave me in the middle of the forest," searchingly you look at him. He laughs and twists his eyes, "I promise I won’t kill you or leave you. You're not a dog. You’re more like an elegant but stubborn cat, kitten" he winks. "Stop calling me that"

"All right, but only if you come with me" "Why? Why don’t you ask one of your other girls to disappear into the woods with you, Casanova," you roll your eyes. "Because it wouldn’t be fun with another girl, besides, I want to show you and no one else" "Why? Because they’re throwing themselves at you without ifs and buts?" "Exactly, I can argue with you and annoy you, that’s fun, you’re cute when you’re mad," he grins.

"Then I really need to change my behavior if you think I’m cute,"

"I like how your hand fits into mine" he suddenly changes the subject and looks at your hands. He’s still holding yours, and you haven’t even noticed. You jerk out of his grip but notice how your skin tingles.

"Stop that!" you scold immediately, but at the same time you notice how as your cheeks turn slightly red. Jake notices this but withholds another stupid comment. "Okay, can we then?" he asks instead, pointing in the direction. "Jakeeee," you whine. Why doesn’t he just leave you alone. "Come on, just this one day, I promise I won’t annoy you anymore. I will behave like a true gentleman"

"I doubt you can even spell that" "Please please pleaseeee" he pleads and looks at you lost like a puppy. You look tormented in the sky, "My mind". "So, yes?" he asks shrill and almost squeaks. "If you finally leave me alone, and only if you stop straining my nerves" "Promised" Again you must smile at his sight. He almost looks like a little boy who has been promised ice cream.

"So let’s get into the adventure" he cheers and again simply reach

You shouldn’t have listened to his promise, not to annoy you. You should have called someone with his phone to pick you up. You should have just run away from him. It took about 10 minutes for you to ask him why he even had your phone and if he could finally give it back to you. After he explained to you that it fell out of your pocket when you almost fell, he told you about his idea of switching phones so you can’t call anyone. So, it was planned. He made the switch when he suddenly stood behind you. You were so absorbed in thinking which way was the right one that you didn’t realize he put the phone in your pocket. Creepy. First you were mad that he got so close to your butt, and then you were really angry when he didn’t want to give you your phone back. The whole thing end up with, he held your phone up, and you had to jump around in front of him to get it back. "Jake! Now give me my phone back!" you hiss as you hang from his upper arm to pull his arm down.

You can feel his tense muscles working under your hands and in this moment you are amazed, you didn’t expect that. You could never really tell under his sweaters or jackets. To your bad luck, not only do you actively notice that he is not weak, but also that you simply can’t get his arm down. And if that’s not bad enough, you need to get way too close. And to your dissatisfaction, this closeness makes you extremely nervous.

"Come on, princess, you can do it, I believe in you," he continues to tease. "You promised not to be an ass," you hiss and jump up with all your strength to get your phone. Or at least his elbows... "Almost, just a little higher," he continues, " I promised you, yes. But we have not set a time for how long I am not an ass, and how could I not if you get so close to me". His grin triggers a tingling sensation in your stomach. "Then just keep it" For a short time it was finally quiet, even if you had to sacrifice your phone, you just kept walking.

But only a few moments later, it went on. Jake had quickly overtaken you again, with the camera open on your phone, holding it so high that you could be seen on it. And then he started taking endless pictures of you. You just looked annoyed in almost every picture, showed him the middle finger, on some you attacked him and on the other you wanted to kick him what he tried to fight off.

So to put it briefly, Jake had the fun of his life and you were annoyed... Normal situation between you and Jake.

"Come on, admit it, you wanted me to kiss you!" he continues to tease. "What do you dream of at night hm?" Meanwhile, you walk in front of him with quick steps so that he finally stop staring at you from the side and you don’t have to see the stupid grin anymore. "Oh, babe, I can’t say that, but it has to do with you," he chuckles. "Argh! You’re so disgusting," you curse as you stomp furiously through the deep forest.

"Annnnd?" "And what?" "Are you finally admitting it?" "I can’t admit what’s not true!" "You wanted to kiss me, I saw it in your eyes" "May I remind you that you have come closer to me and not the other way around? If anyone wanted to kiss anyone, you wanted me" "But you wanted me to do it" "No, I was hoping a tree would fall on you" "The tree would have hit you too" "I don’t care, then it would finally be quiet" "Just keep telling yourself that, you want me and you know it" "Over my dead body!"

"Ok, is that so?" Suddenly, his voice changes drastically. The next moment, a big hand wraps around your hand and you get whirled around. A small scream escapes your throat as you slam hard against a chest. Instinctively, your hands are against Jake’s chest to maintain balance.

You actually want to start bitching at him right away and push yourself away from him, but when you look up at him, every word gets stuck in your throat. For the second time today, your faces are a few inches apart. A goose bump pulls over your arms as you inhale his incredibly perfume again. "Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me?" he breathes. His right hand rests on your back to keep you closer to him while the other is lying on your hip. Almost like in a trance, no, more out of shock (try to convince yourself) your eyes haunt the movements of his lips as the words come out so gently and at the same time deep out of his mouth.

Your heart accelerates by twice your normal pulse and unconsciously your hand grasps the fabric of its tshirt more firmly" "If I come any closer now..." he whispers and approaches you, "if I kiss you now, would you actually push me away? Because you don’t want to?".

"Yes" you squeeze out panting. Yes, of course. Who are you trying to tell?

"Too bad" he whispers and comes even more closer to you. Your eyes are caught by his lips and with every millimeter your breath accelerates and tension rises.

You really should get away from him, but you can’t, your mind is going crazy, you can’t move. Your body longs for the kiss that is so close. Your mind screams, 'push him away' and 'don’t give it this triumph' but the adrenaline that is triggered says, 'don’t pull back, you want that'.

"If you don’t move, I will really kiss you," he warns you one last time. But until your clouded mind has realized the words at all, its lips are already on yours.

You open your eyes in shock when you understand what’s happening here. You look at the closed eyelids of Jakes whose soft lips press on yours. You want to get away from him quickly, but his hand on your back keeps you from it. "Damn now, stop fighting back, we both know you want to," Jake hisses at your lips. And for whatever reason, you really dont know, but you finally give in, tired of the fight and the whole quarrel against your feelings. After that, you can still yell at him. Sighing, you close your eyes and give in to the kiss you have secretly longed for months..

Since you first saw him.

You focus on his lips that are now slowly moving against yours. They are soft but decisive, they take the lead and you just let yourself be dragged along. A high that grabs you, clouding your senses, taking your mind and will never let go of you again. Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him even closer to you, resulting is a rough giggle from him.

Oh, you’re gonna regret this.

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🌹🎭

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A/n: It's me again. I think the whole thing is a little confusing and it has an open end. Plans. I have to say, somehow I love the content of the story . Since it’s a little different than usual, I hope you’ll like it anyway. As I said, somehow I really love this, sooooo I wanted to ask if you want a second part of it? Let me know!

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood Jake x mc #duskwood prompt #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #Everbyte #everbyte studios #duskwood anon

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talonwings · 3 years

Text

to feed a kingdom- Empires SMP Writing

in which fWhip and his subjects make questionable choices for noble reasons.

(can you tell yet that i am a c!fWhip apologist lololololol--)

It would have been easy to miss the small silhouette of the man against the giant shadows looming over the landscape.

The inky sky seemed to cling low over the Grimlands, as it had ever since the Dragon fell; the stars shone more dimly, those that still shone at all. Clouds scudded frantically across the faint crescent of the moon, pushed along by a harrying wind. The crickets all had fallen silent--indeed, all the animals had gone, hidden away in burrows and holes to shelter themselves from the threat of the corruption. No sound disturbed the stillness of the night, but for the harsh gasps of the lone figure as he raised the scythe and swung it again, and again, and again.

fWhip’s fingers had long since blistered, burst, and blistered again. He had stopped even glancing down to check his hands--the sight of the blood seeping through the fabric of his gloves had averted his gaze some time ago. The pain was a constant companion, enough so that he had become used to it, could ignore it if he gritted his teeth and focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of the tool in his grasp.

He was inelegant with the scythe. It would have been obvious to anyone observing, if there had been anyone around to observe at this ungodly hour; as it was, his lack of skill was evident enough in the ache it left behind in his forearms and shoulders, the torque that yanked at his spine every time he twisted to put his weight behind the swings. He had never been a large man, but he felt his smallness down to his bones here beneath the tower of corruption that still rose into the air above him.

Give up, the rot-red tendril seemed to hiss at him. Its veiny surface pulsated eerily, hinting at something living just beneath the fleshy exterior.

“I’ll die first,” fWhip rasped at it. “Watch me.”

He swung the scythe again. The blade was weathered steel, pocked and beaten from many years of use, but still dangerously sharp. It bit deep into the corrupted tendril, and fWhip was gratified when he swore he could hear a faint scream.

Plash was worried about the Count.

It wasn’t that her lord was acting strange, exactly. Strange, to Plash, was a relative term--she had been called ‘strange’ for most of her childhood due to her fondness for laboratory tools over the company of other children. It was a relief to finally be accepted into the service of the Grimlands’ ruler, who, by Plash’s measure, was a kindred spirit in strangeness. Many people raised their eyebrows at the Count’s eccentricities, but accepted them simply because he was the Count, and who were they to question the man who kept food on their tables and money in their coffers?

No, Plash was concerned because fWhip was acting strange, even for him. He was energetic and filled to the brim with ideas, as a rule--it was what made the Grimlands, under his rule, surge to the forefront of scientific research and discovery. Plash would have never described him as kind, necessarily, or even pleasant, but he was confident and sure and bold.

Until the Dragon fell, and everything changed.

She did not know how to make the dullness go out of his eyes, or the slant from his shoulders, or the heavy, bowing weight from his head, and it frightened her--an uncomfortable experience in itself, for someone as rarely frightened as Plash. In the hours immediately after the Dragon’s end, she had watched her beloved ruler become a person she did not recognize; and that, even before the corruption had arrived.

Plash scowled out the window of the manor at the scarlet tendril hanging ominously in the sky beyond the pane. The damn things had erupted from the ground barely a week after the Dragon’s death, while the Grimlands were still reeling from the arrival of what seemed like half of Mythland’s population. They had barely had enough time to count them all, much less figure out how they were going to feed them. Tents lined every road in Eastvale, and most of the roads immediately outside the town’s wall.

Normally, the Count would guide us, Plash thought glumly. But now…

She didn’t allow herself to finish the thought, close enough to treason as it was. Instead, she made herself continue her trek through the long, high-ceilinged halls toward the Count’s personal study, acutely feeling the weight of the smooth little scroll clutched in her hand, burning a hole through her glove.

She arrived at the tall, paneled oak door, staring for a long moment at the polished bronze knocker before summoning her strength and rapping it twice.

“Enter,” the weary voice called from within.

Plash did so, but stopped just inside the door, barely remembering to close it behind her as she gaped at her leader and mentor. He looked terrible. His eyes were ringed by bruise-purple circles, his cheeks hollow with exhaustion; more bruises were visible on the exposed skin of his wrists where his jacket sleeves rode up, and Plash swore she could see blood staining his gloves.

“Are you just going to stare?” the Count asked. The question was blunt, but his voice was weak and lacked its usual intensity.

“I…” Plash couldn’t find any words, so instead she held up the scroll. “This just arrived.”

“And they sent you instead of a raven?” fWhip gave a dry laugh. “I wasn’t aware that you were doing the job of birds now, Plash Ajax.”

Most people would have been embarrassed by the quip, but Plash shrugged. “A raven brought it, but the raven-mistress said it was too important not to be hand-delivered.”

“Mm.” fWhip eyed her for a moment before he, too, shrugged. “Bring it here.”

She obeyed, crossing the room and depositing the scroll on his desk. Up close he looked even worse than at first glance; his face and every centimeter of exposed flesh were riddled with tiny scratches, like he had been on the losing end of an encounter with a thorn bush. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, his gingery hair utterly unkempt. Plash said nothing, only waiting in silence for him to inspect the scroll.

He took it in his hands and unrolled it, eyes scanning it for a second before he let it fall from his grip. It hit the desk with a clack, but Plash barely noticed, fixated as she was on the single tear that trailed down the Count’s cheek before being lost in the tangle of his beard.

“Um…” She chewed her lip for a moment, internally caught between wanting to comfort him and wanting to turn tail and run. She settled for asking, somewhat awkwardly, “Shall I, um...shall I leave?”

“Do what you like,” he replied in a tone thick with exhaustion. One gloved hand came up for a noncommittal wave, the fingers indeed stained scarlet with blood.

Plash stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, although it was probably no more than a minute, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she decided to be as blunt as the man she looked up to. “You look awful. Did someone break in here for a fight last night?”

She thought she had made an awful mistake when fWhip’s eyes locked onto her, his mouth agape; relief washed over her when he started to laugh, the sound hoarse and beaten, but familiar.

“So you can tell,” he said when he finally stopped laughing. “Well, I suppose I did nothing to try to clean up.”

“Wait, so there was a fight?” Plash asked in confusion.

“Of a kind,” the Count replied wryly.

“...I’m confused,” the young scientist admitted.

“Ah, I know how you hate that.” fWhip’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “All of you young researchers do, though I try my best to beat it out of you.” He stood, shaking his head and then wincing visibly at the movement. “Ack. That’s unpleasant.”

“Can I, er, help in any way?” Plash asked.

“Follow me,” the Count said, beckoning with a gesture toward the door. “I will answer your question, though you must promise to share this with no one.”

Plash followed silently, thoughts spinning through her head as they descended the several floors of the manor and exited into the gardens beyond. From down here, she had a full view of the corruption towering over the skyline of Eastvale, tendrils encircling the town as if to latch on and pull it into the earth, although for now, they remained still. It was toward one of the massive growths that fWhip led her, and as they neared, Plash could see a curious wound in the side of the tentacle. It leaked and bled crimson ooze from the gash, and its flesh seemed to have withered around the site, blackened and decaying.

“What caused this?” Plash wondered aloud. “More corruption? Some new blight?”

“I did,” the Count answered.

“You--?” Plash stared at him, aghast, her eyes dropping slowly to the scarlet-stained scythe that lay abandoned on the ground below the tendril. She hadn’t noticed it until he nudged it with his boot, but now she saw the corrupted ichor dripping from the blade, the red vines hacked to pieces and lying dead beside the tool.

“Did you know I wanted to be a farmer once?”

She was caught entirely off-guard by the question, still enthralled as she was by the sight of the scythe, so it took her a moment to fully process it. “Wh--wait, a farmer? As in…?” She mimed what she thought scything wheat might look like.

fWhip nodded tiredly. “When I was very young, I once had to accompany my parents, the old Count and Countess, on a trip to a Wither Rose Alliance summit in Mythland. They were, of course, ensconced in meetings all day, so I wandered the kingdom with my…” Here he trailed off, a flash of some unreadable feeling crossing his face for a moment before he went on. “With an old friend. We got into plenty of mischief, and one of the pranks we decided on was to unlatch the gate to a field full of cows. Luckily, the farmer caught us before we were trampled to death by the beasts, and although we were royal, he decided to teach us a lesson, and made us help him sow carrot seeds for two hours.”

Plash made a face. “That sounds horrid.”

The Count chuckled softly. “My friend thought so, but for me, there was something very rewarding in digging up the earth, placing the seeds, covering them, and knowing that they would someday become food for the citizens of Mythland.”

“...Sort of like finishing a machine that you know will be used to make life easier for people,” Plash said after a moment’s reflection. She knew the feeling--hands oil-stained, face soot-smeared, hair wild, sleep-deprived and exhausted, but overwhelmed with warmth when she gazed at the thing she had created. There was nothing like it.

fWhip nodded. “Yes. And so I told my parents when I was returned to them later that I wanted to become a farmer and grow carrots for all the people of the Grimlands. They laughed, of course, and said that a Count’s son could do more than become a simple farmer, and as it turned out, they were right. But for a long time, I had a secret dream to fill the whole world with fields, to build one every day, as far as the eye could see.”

Plash gazed at him silently for a long time. Finally, she said, “So this is your chance to use the scythe to help the Grimlands?”

His face became hard, almost unrecognizably so. “If I have to tear down every one of these damn things, I will.”

There was silence between them again, the awful, still silence that had hung over the Grimlands in all the hours that had passed since the Ender Dragon’s demise. Plash watched as the Count breathed raggedly, his fists clenched and trembling, the entire weight of their kingdom resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll help,” she said.

He blinked--it was clearly not the response he had been expecting. “What?”

“I said, I’ll help,” Plash repeated. Her resolve was growing now, ideas taking root--like seeds, like kernels that, properly watered, would grow into something that could help them all. “I’m terrible with a scythe, but I know machines and chemicals. If you give me a sample, I can turn it into something that will help us feed the Mythlanders.”

The Count’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Feed--with the corruption?”

Plash scowled at him. “Did you recruit me from university because I had boring ideas?”

He looked astonished for a moment, but only for a moment, and then his mouth formed the devious smile that she hadn’t seen in nearly eight days.

“No,” he agreed. “I did not. Very well, Plash Ajax. You will turn Xornoth’s corruption into food for the people of Mythland. But you know, I have high expectations now that you’ve even suggested such a thing.”

Plash grinned right back, cracking her knuckles, her mind already working. “I know. So do I.”

#also featuring a sneaky reference to fwhip's hardcore series!!#see if you can spot it #empires smp #mcyt #writing #fwhip #the grimlands #empiresona #empires oc #plash ajax #xornoth #rcu #technically rcu!fwhip

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aknosde · 3 years

Text

Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

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Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #its been a while since i posted something for pjo #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #hoo #alea iacta est #Reyna!Swap au #chart writes #fic: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur #riordanverse #anyways I'm pretty happy with this and if you want some explanations or clarifications you can ask me or look at my final notes on ao3!#i already have another one in the works! it just needs to be beta read

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silkling · 3 years

Note

Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

#silkling request fics #request fic #tfp #transformers prime #tfp sierra #tfp starscream #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp optimus prime #Sierra joins Team Prime #smokescreen is her partner #maccadam

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fandomout · 3 years

Note

Hey! I'm not sure if you take requests or not but could you write a fluffy gecko from the boys x reader? He's severly underappriciated

Gecko (Matthew Culbert) x Reader-You find out what he's been doing for money

I had fun writing this. It's angst and fluff, so I hope that's okay anon. If you want something full on fluff, let me know. After doing this post, I am taking requests. It's just not to say when it will be out. I am taking REQUESTS in ANONS. I don’t how else to set up taking requests lol. Hope you enjoy.

You skipped in your steps as you were on the way to meet Mathew at a small restaurant. These days you don't have much time together. You weren’t too sure about the why, which made you worry about him. Either way, luckily, he wanted to meet for his lunch break from work. When you arrived, you were glad to see he was already sitting there waiting for you. You sat down and smiled. He smiled back widely and commented, “Well, look who finally showed up.”

“Oh quiet, this place is close to where you work. You’re early.”

“You’re right, okay.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much. Same old.”

“Can’t be. You’ve been busy.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying...it’s different. I mean something is keeping you from hanging out with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? What the last the we did together?”

“We-” You gave a small grin to him.

“Look, it’s okay. I’m just wondering when we can get together.”

“Not sure…” He looks at his phone and asks, “Any ideas?” Yo nodded and mentioned, “I was going to the movies later tonight.” He was looking down at his phone very interested. You nudged his hand with your index finger, and he responded with, “Hm?”

“Matt?” He finally looked up at you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m trying to ask if you want to come with me?”

“Tonight?” He cringed his teeth.

“Yeah. I mean they are even playing your favorite movie.” He smiled widely at you and asked, “You know my favorite movie?”

“Of course I do. How can you ask- So, you’re coming?” He looked around aimlessly in slow movement, and he shrugged and answered, “I can’t. I already have plans tonight.”

“Plans that you haven’t once mentioned to me?”

“Exactly.”

“Where are you gonna be off to?”

“Nothing.”

“This nothing must be important. I-” He snapped, “Would you just drop it?” The action makes you move back slightly. However, you recovered quickly and had to let out what you’d been thinking for months. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I have to now...You're different these days. I've noticed it.”

“What?”

“You and me don’t hang out as much as we used to. I get that you're busy in the day with work or church things, but the night was our thing. You seem like your hold something back just like you are no-”

“What, you think I can't handle myself or something?”

“N-”

“I know everyone thinks I’m this fragile nerd, but you-”

“I never said. I’ve never thought that. M-”

“You don’t have to know everything.”

“I-”

“Look, I’m just going to go. Enjoy your movie. See you. I have to get back to work. I can’t believe I wasted my break on this.” He strides out, and you can't seem to go after him as you see he’s really hurt.

After a good minute, you shake your head at yourself. You knew there was more to this. You couldn't give up. You knew there was more to where he was going to be tonight; therefore, instead of going to the movies, you decided you would follow Mathew. You tailed him in his car all the way to some shady parts in town. Even knowing the area, you were still shocked to see Mathew walking into the most sketchy motel you’d ever seen. You swore this was the reason behind the past few months.

You watched him head into room D5. Suddenly, you sort of assumed he was meeting a special and paid friend. I mean why else would he be here? Something he could be doing that of course he wouldn't want you to know and wouldn't want to say aloud. You made your way into the building and walked up the stairs until you were in front of the motel room. You put your ear to the door. You heard moaning sounds, which you thought confirmed your theory. Having it followed by weird sounds, crazy laughing, and hacking noises. You rush downstairs to get the key. Immediately spouting out to the clerk, “I think my friend needs some help! The room number is D5!” The clerk, who was unphased, just hands you the key. You almost tumble over many times.

Unlocking the door, you could never imagine the sight before you, and your mouth and tears drop. You didn’t even really know what to do with yourself after seeing an arm and leg detached and cut from the body of your friend. It was jaggedly severed. Blood all over the place. Black bags covering the area like a murder scene. You cover your eyes at the sight before you. You see a man stand above your friend with a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other hitting silly. What scares you and overwhelmed you most was that Matthew had no expression on his face. You really process what’s happening and scream. If you hadn't screamed, you were sure they wouldn’t have noticed you. You run forward trying to shield Mathew from the man. Both of their eyes bulged out, especially the man uncomfortably so.

Laying his eyes on you, the man drops the weapons instantly. He tried to cover his face while simultaneously fumbling to get his bag. He pulls some money from the pocket of one and throws it right near you and Mathew before running out of the room.

“I wasn’t here!” The man yelled and ran into the night.

You look over the money before looking at Mathew. His eyes avert instantly as he looks over to his arm and leg expectantly. You knew at that moment it was nothing new. You pick up the money with a frown. You hold the wad of cash and wave in his face yelling, “Wha-” You gagged a little, but you were trying not to and forced out the words, ”What is this?!”

“I-” He looked over to the absent holes where his limbs were and seemed to be waiting a specific amount of time knowing when his leg and arm would come back. You didn’t want to admit the realization.

As it really clicked in your brain, you teared up and gagged a little once more.

“Really?” You whimpered out. He finally stood tall in one piece. He reached out and took hold of the money from your hands. You clung onto it, burning your gaze into him. He took it to put into his backpack, and he started to clean up. “Matt!” He stopped his movements. He stands up and looks over to you.

In a soft voice, he says, “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?!” He flinches back in surprise. “Matthew...You let people mutilate you for money?”

“I’m completely fine. I mean it’s already happened. I have a high pain-”

“That’s not helping. I mean-” You look over to the arm.

“Why in the hell would you let people do this to you? It can’t just be the money...Unless is it really that bad? I can give it you.” You look up hopeful. Nodding you continue, “I’m sure I can help-”

“It’s not-”

“How much?” You start pulling out your wallet. He stops your hands. Tearing up at your willingness. “It’s not about the money.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I do it to feel something…I’ve been kinda numb for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want this.” He pats your hand where your wallet is in. “This.”

“Didn't want me to give you money?”

“I didn’t want you to do everything you can to fix it. I didn’t want to burden you with me when I know you’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Bu-”

“No-” You pull him into a kiss without another thought. You pull back with lip quivering as you only see surprise and no sign of reciprocation.

“Oh, no. Was that wr-” You begin pulling away, but he grabs onto your sides gently holding you in place. Before one hand came to rest on your cheek. He leaned in and kissed you passionately back.

“How could you ever do me wrong when you care so much?”

“I do care about you.”

“I-May not seem like it, but I care about you too...”

“Then, please stop doing this.”

“Y/N-”

“It’s fucked what you're doing. Now, that you know how I feel, I’ll be damned if I don’t stop you from this and stop your feeling numb. It-” You start crying again. “It would hurt too much now every time now that I know what you’ve been doing. So please.” You clung to him. “I usually wouldn’t say something like this but stop for me.” As he looked at your pleading, he found himself saying, “I believe you. Already making me feel different...Make me feel something.”

Hope your day got better

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pemfrost · 3 years

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For the bingo what about spideydevil hogwarts AU . Good luck on your bingo!!

Thank you if you do it.

Thanks for the prompt :D

So, this is like 3 times longer than I wanted to make these bingo fics lmao. Oops 🤷‍♀️. It still could use some polishing, but I'm terrified that Peter will find another plot thread if I poke at it anymore.

Bingo fic 1/?

As much as he devoted himself to studying, Peter could not bring himself to care about Divination. The whole class reminded him of cringe inducing hacks he'd seen on t.v. growing up. Except, no one was jumping out with hidden footage to debunk it. Everything appeared hollow: randomness assigned meaning. And, while Peter didn't often procrastinate, he found it harder and harder to work on his Divination homework the more weeks that passed.

There was one silver lining, though. Another student, one he'd held a torch for from afar, was in the class with him. That too, turned out to be hollow and meaningless until today. Despite having a class together, Peter still had no real reason to approach Matt. However, he stumbled into the opportunity in his usual Parker way: completely on accident.

His procrastination on his Divination assignments reached a plateau, and, despite his ability to work quickly under pressure, Peter was late to class. When he'd finally made it -ten minutes late and scribbling the last lines on his essay- he'd thought the repercussion would be a lecture. Or detention. The usual stuff Hogwarts professors liked to through his way.

Instead, the professor welcomed him to class in her airy way and quietly assigned him a partner for the project she was currently guiding the class through. "Ah, Mr. Murdock, please join Peter for the remainder of class."

By stoke of luck, Matthew Murdock had been an unlucky third wheel in another group, and made no fuss about changing seats. His usual partner was in the infirmary; the exact cause was the subject of many rumors. Peter was rather fond of the theory that Foggy was involved in a fight with the group of slytherins who often tired to bully Matt, but anyone involved was keeping their lips zipped tight.

It wasn't a glamorous impression, but Peter was thankful for the opportunity.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Matt crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back in the cozy chair across from Peter. He nodded to the steaming cup of tea in front of him, raising an eyebrow.

Peter nodded, then mentally kicked himself and verbally answered, "Yeah. I read over the basics last night."

It was a basic tea leaf reading, and the set up was quite straightforward. The professor was kind enough to provide hot water and a selection of tea leaves at each table. Though, she did note they would have a better reading with their own supplies.

"Good. I started my tea already, so you can read mine while yours-"

"Mr. Murdock." The professor tapped the cup in front of him with her wand. "You must start over. The leaves are easier for your partner to interpret when they are brewed just for them." With a flick of her wand, his cup was replaced with an empty one and she glided off towards another set of students.

Matt sighed and reached for the tea selection, deftly selected Earl Grey and pinched a healthy amount of leaves into his cup. Peter followed suit, choosing one at random without reading the labels.

"Don't you care for tea?" Matt's gaze was slightly to the left of where Peter sat, his face not giving away his thoughts.

"I do, I'm just not picky." His pulse quickened. This was the most they'd spoken in years. He watched Matt's hands as he poured the hot water into their cups, tracing the calluses earned from long hours in the greenhouse.

"Now we wait." Matt sat the pot back to the side of the table and leaned back in his chair.

The tea would need to steep for at least three minutes. There were many things to do during that time to ensure a good reading, or so the professor said. Holding the cup and thinking about what you wanted the leaves to tell you seemed like a good option, but Peter really didn't believe in fortune telling enough to meditate over his tea. Another method was to talk to the person who was going to do your reading. And the third, and one Matt seemed keen on, was to silently wait and let what happens happen.

In Peter's opinion, silence was something to be broken

"Uh," Peter shifted nervously as watched the steam rise from his cup, "how is Foggy? That was a hell of a match last night, shame he missed it."

"He's fine." Matt's voice was flat. "He should be discharged in time for dinner."

"That's… good to hear." Peter eyed him nervously. Matt was a year ahead of him and in a different house, meaning they had very few direct interactions. Yet, Peter knew a good amount about him. Or, rather, he knew what the Daily Prophet said and what he'd observed with his own eyes didn't always match and had drawn his own conclusions.

Coming from a muggle family meant Peter had very little frame of reference for most things, and he could only try to compare having an Auror as a father to having one who was a cop. Matt was a third year when his father was targeted by a group of dark wizards and Matt was caught in the crossfire.

Peter, always in search of knowledge, desperately wanted to know which curse caused Matt to lose his vision, and which spells gave him a sense of the world around him. As far as he could tell there was no braille equivalent in the Wizarding World. He didn't ask, of course. He had more sense than that, even in the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to know Matt first, because he seemed like a cool -and handsome- guy.

Even if he was callous enough to just ask, it wasn't like he had many opportunities to do so. This was actually their first class together in Peter's six years at Hogwarts- and would be the only one since Matt would be graduating in a few months.

Despite having no real social interactions, Peter was well aware of Matt, and would have been even if his story wasn't in the papers for months. The very first time Peter stepped foot into Hogwarts, he was so enthralled with the majesty and magic of the castle -- until he spotted Matt. It was silly, and, even though Peter couldn't name the sensation back then, that moment stuck with him.

Peter had read everything he could prior to entering Hogwarts, dreading being behind his peers who grew up in the Wizarding World. His heart was set on Ravenclaw, drawn in by the lure of knowledge and like-minded students. That was until he locked eyes with Matt from across the hall and, for a brief moment, yearned to be adorned in red and gold. Reason won, and he was proud to be sorted into Ravenclaw. But, part of him always wondered.

"Thank you." Matt's voice jolted him from his reminiscing.

Peter wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve thanks, so he deflected with a joke. "Hey, I'd be thankful too if someone rescued me from the 'Dream Couple'. More like 'Most Annoying Couple'." He tapped his index finger on the table towards students Matt was originally teamed with, rolling his eyes at how closely they sat together.

A small chuckle escaped Matt and Peter's chest puffed with pride. Matt was such a serious person, he hardly ever smiled or laughed, and then it was almost exclusively with Foggy.

"For that, too, I suppose. I meant to thank you for being the only person in this class… probably the school… who hasn't ask me… about… it."

Oh. Peter looked away, embarrassed by how many questions he truly wanted to ask while simultaneously reeling from the fact Matt apparently paid enough attention to notice. "It's not my business. Besides, there's way more things I'd like to pick your brain about."

Matt raised an eyebrow, "Like?"

Peter opened his mouth to list off a litany of botany questions, but was cut off before he managed a single syllable. The professor stared down at them, "It's been long enough, time to drink your tea, be sure to do your rotations. Read the leaves immediately, take notes on your findings before looking up their meanings. Then, give your reading to your partner. Ideally, you will know each common symbol by heart by the end of the term, but for now use your books."

They dropped the conversation, following her instructions and downing their tea. Peter was pleased with his random choice, noting hints of citrus.

"Here," he pushed his empty cup towards Matt. As he took Matt's cup, he wondered how Matt would read his leaves, but didn't ask.

Peter peered into Matt’s cup, trying to find patterns in the chaos of leaves. Eventually, his eyes focused on the task and he could make out what he thought were symbols. He wrote down his list and set the cup and notebook on the table.

Across from him, Matt was focused on Peter's cup. He ran his wand over it, then his hand, then with a flick of his wand his quill automatically made a note.

"You'll have to teach me that sometime," Peter said before he could stop himself.

Matt paused, lips pursed.

Peter continued, "If I could direct my quill to write, it would save a lot of time when I'm trying new potion ingredient substitutes. The constant starting and stopping to note every step and change I make is such a juggle."

"That's pretty dangerous," Matt said with an amused lilt to his voice. "Though, I suppose teaching you that would make it slightly more safe."

"Yea, it would be negligent for you not to," Peter's heart raced as he teased the handsome student across from him.

"We should probably do the readings." Matt shifted, "But we'll figure out a time that we're both free, yeah?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah."

"I'll start, if that's okay."

"Uh, yeah. Did you need to look up your symbols? 'Cuz I have no idea what some of these mean."

Matt heaved a large reference book into his lap, "I'm doing it on the fly. Let's see…" He waved his wand over the pages and ran his index finger over the text.

Peter didn't put much stock into fortune telling, but he was curious what Matt would read in the leaves.

"So, your leaves are interesting. There is a small ring or letter 'O' at the top, so either a love interest is close or you have something important with someone with an 'O' name." He continued on without waiting for Peter's reaction or input, "There is a spider that spans both the present and future, which could mean you have a choice to make soon which will have a huge impact on your life. But, there is a smaller thing that could be a spider, too? So maybe you have a lot of choices to make?"

Peter shrugged. The close love interest piqued his interest, though he was more curious what Matt would say about it. Maybe he would be given a beacon of hope, a sign that Matt noticed him too.

"Ah, and this at the bottom! It's a very clear anchor, meaning a stable future." Matt tilted his head towards Peter, "You do not seem impressed with your reading."

"Nothing personal, I just don't think these things are more than carnival tricks and fun games."

"Fair enough," Matt chuckled and set his notes to the side, folded his arms on the table and leaned in. "Now mine."

Right, Peter had to figure out Matt's. He pulled out his own book and looked over the page of symbols. "Well, let's start with what I know without reading paragraphs of contradictory symbology. So, there is a ring -or 'O'- at the bottom and it's pretty big. Future relationship? Or someone with an 'O' name? And there is a smaller one of the same in the present."

He paused to look at his notes. "Uh… I think this is a ladder? Which means travel in your future. And a Knife in the future meaning a fight. Umm, I wrote down a snake, but it could be a worm? Which… is a bad omen or a secret enemy."

Peter glanced up at Matt, and was about to apologize for accidentally reading a bad future for him when the Professor approached their table.

"Ah, let's take a look, then, shall we?" She gently plucked Peter's tea cup up from in front of Matt and swept her eyes over the leaves. "Oh, my. You have a small romantic notion towards someone that has lasted a while but hasn't grown into anything more. You have several challenges which will appear in the near future and your decision to take them on or ignore them will drastically shape your life. Those choices are why a lot of your future is fuzzy, but if you remain true to yourself there is great prosperity and even greater love waiting for you."

She looked over Matt's notes and pointed out the symbols he missed. Peter sighed, he was ready for the class to end. At least he had his study not-date with Matt to look forward to.

"Let's have a look at the other one," She said as she lifted Matt's cup from where Peter set it. "You have a recent romantic notion, it is small and very new, but you will have a journey before it can grow. There are a lot of small victories in your future, but they can be overshadowed by betrayal. I see a powerful romance in the future, but it could be lost if you're not careful."

Matt seemed to hang on every word, but quickly folded his arms when the Professor finished her own reading. Was he taking it seriously? Peter made a note to ask later. There were some interesting parallels between their readings, giving Peter a sliver of hope of his feelings being returned despite the absurdity of fortune telling.

"Overall, not bad for your first times. Keep studying, there will be a practical component to the final." With that, she drifted towards another group, leaving Peter and Matt to clean up.

"You're a muggleborn, aren't you?" Matt wasn't looking at him, but Peter could feel the weight of his attention pinning him to his chair. "Foggy is too," Matt added quickly, "and has the same opinions on this," he waved his hand generally.

"Ah, yea. It's a bit… "

"I get it. Don't worry, no judgment here. Still, the reading was a bit uncanny."

Peter huffed. "It's easy to assign meaning to a vague set of events."

"Is that so?" Matt tilted his head.

"We're teens, so it's not uncommon to have a crush. And everyone has a journey at some point, or choices to make. That's life. And it's not unusual to get married later in your life."

"True." He calmly began to clean the table. A swish of his wand and his cup was clean. "So, you do not deny liking someone."

Well, that was unexpected. Peter sputtered, searching for a string of words to put together as his pulse raced. "I- well- that's- I-"

Matt had the audacity to laugh at him, and the sound alone was almost enough to make Peter's embarrassment worth it. Almost. "Why so embarrassed, I thought it wasn't uncommon?"

Peter busied himself with clearing his side of the table. "So, you're not denying it yourself?" He leaned into the hope the conversation sparked, imagining his feelings being returned. Tea leaves be damned, Peter made his own fate, and if he was given the chance there was no amount of future-telling that could ruin what he felt for Matt.

Their conversation dropped when the professor requested everyone's attention for a short lecture before the end of class. It was important information they would need for their test, but Peter's attention drifted to Matt. By the upward tilt of Matt’s lips, he was well aware of Peter's distraction.

There was a flurry of activity after class, and Peter didn't have any chance to speak with him further. However, Matt was true to his word and sought Peter out over the weekend. The weather was fair, creating the perfect opportunity to study together outside and away from the prying eyes of their classmates. They found a shaded area and set up their makeshift study session under the shade of a tree.

"I think I got it." Peter waved his wand over a fresh piece of parchment, whispering the spell Matt taught him. The tree bark dug into his back, and Matt’s cologne was distracting, but he could feel the tingle of the spell working. His quill sprung to work, jotting down a few lines of potion ingredients before sputtering out and falling to the page. As it rolled to the side, he sighed and leaned his head against the tree.

"It takes practice to keep it writing longer, but you've done more than I expected for your first lesson. You really are every bit the genius they say."

"People talk about me?" Peter was top of his class, but he didn't think his grades warranted discussion with the 7th years.

Matt shrugged and knocked his shoulder into Peter's. "I may have asked around."

Peter's heart somersaulted. "Oh? What, uh, else did 'they' say?"

"That you're a smart ass."

Peter nodded and leaned towards Matt, "Go on."

"Peter…" Matt's breath ghosted over his cheek sending a thrill up his spine.

"Matt…" Peter continued forward, gently pressing his lips against Matt's. For a brief moment, Matt pressed back; then suddenly there was a large distance between them.

Peter's lips felt cold.

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't be, I-I kissed you." Peter fumbled to put his quill and notebook into his bag. "I thought-"

"Peter." Matt's voice was soft, unsure. "It wouldn't be fair to you."

Peter stared down at his notes, trying to make sense of what Matt was saying.

"I graduate in a few months." He held up a hand when Peter started to protest, "and I've just been accepted into a school in Germany. I leave right after graduation to get a head start with their summer law program."

"But-"

"We would have an expiration date, Peter." Matt's eyes were closed. There was a rigidness to his posture which made Peter suspect there was more he wasn't saying.

"Ok. Then just friends."

Matt inhaled sharply, like he hadn't expected Peter's reaction. "Friends. Yea, I'd like that."

With that, they settled into a rhythm for the rest of the school year. Studying together when time allowed, ignoring the tension between them whenever they accidentally touched. Whenever the tightness in his chest returned, Peter reminded himself of their tea readings and imagined a future where they shared a happy ending.

----

Woo, thanks for reading!

There is a part two I'm working on where they reunite as professors several years later. I actually started that first then switched gears when Peter made a reference to their past. Hopefully I'll finish it soon so it's not so much of a cliffhanger lol.

#spideydevil #peter parker #matt murdock #Hogwarts au #spiderdevil #pem writes

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