#Then last night I read a couple shorter ship fics of them and went oh goddammit lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsbrekkers · 3 years

Note

Hi! I read your Jesper fic and it’s like my favorite that I’ve ever read honestly it was amazing! I was wondering if I could request a Jesper x reader where the reader is small and really sweet and he has a crush on her? And she like steals his clothes and he just gets rlly soft? Once again I love your writing have a great day/night and no rush!

hi there! we’ve talked over pm, but thank you again, those kind words mean the WORLD to me! i haven’t put my writing out there in a while, so this means a lot, thank you again :)

so i had a weird idea when i saw this when i woke up this morning. mind you, it’s been sitting in my requests for a few days, but i saw it and didn’t have a lot of ideas, but then inspiration struck me and brb i gotta cry over this. AHHHHHH

pairings! jesper x reader / kaz x inej ( being soulmates ) + nina x matthias ( also being soulmates ) + wylan van eck enjoying his pie

reader is again, gender neutral, but leans more female presented, BUT the pronouns they/their are used throughout

warnings! jesper and reader being the fluffest couple to walk the grishaverse, kaz endlessly shipping, kaz also pinning for inej, nina + kaz shipping reader and jesper, the crows in general shipping reader x jesper

word count; 3036 words

one-shot under cut!

this mood board was made by a friend and UGH IT TAKES IN THE FIC S O WELL!!! @r3tr0sp3ct !! thank you so much, SHFJD

5 WAYS TO TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER YOU LOVE THEM

Courtesy Of Jesper Fahey, to my Dearest Y/N

5: Tease Them About How Short They Are

It was no secret that Y/N was the shortest of the crows. A mere five foot three, compared to the other Crows? They were short. Shorter than Inej by an inch or two, and by a foot compared to Matthias. Yet, it made them dangerous: able to move from place to place almost as swiftly as Inej. They were able to look unintimidating, when in reality, they could kill you, your family, and your relatives. They were able to lie their way through almost anything: another factor of people underestimating them. They were dangerous, which is why they were a part of the Crows after all. An asset, a leader even. Kaz saw them as valuable.

That didn’t stop the endless amount of teasing from the Crows though. And who had started it? Jesper Fahey.

First joining the Crows had been an impulsive decision, but one that Y/N didn’t regret. A family came with joining, and they’d lost theirs a pretty good time ago. What also came with joining was the teasing. Another day at the Crow Club, and Y/N, still relatively new to the Barrel life, was watching as Jesper gambled. They’d never understand the payoff of such quizzical acts of dumbness, but they stood there behind Jesper, confused.

Finishing the hand, Jesper glanced back at Y/N, chuckling slightly. Y/N’s eyes shifted, their glare at Jesper meeting him right in the eyes. It almost caused him to back down from what he was about to say, but he simply smirked the usual Jesper smirk. Flirtatious and bubbly. His hand swiftly moved, pulling Y/N to stand directly in front of him, the hand on their waist causing them to become flustered.

“You’re shorter than Inej,” Jesper inquired.

“I am not-” but Y/N didn’t finish their sentence. They’d already known such, but now Jesper was pointing it out. “So what?”

“It means I get to deem a new nickname for you! Inej would never let me call her anything related to her height, she threatened me with her knives. Or Kaz would glare at me, which scares me to say the least,” Jesper smiled now. He was going to have to find his way into Y/N’s good graces to fully engage in said nickname. They seemed conflicted for a moment, a pout making its way to their face.

“Does that mean I get to deem a nickname for you based on how tall you are?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. They already had one in mind, considering Jesper was only a mere inch shorter than Matthias, the nickname still fit him.

“Well, that depends, Shortcake, what is your nickname for me?”

“Big Bear,” Y/N responded, smiling.

“Hmm, I like it. Shortcake and Big Bear. A powerful duo,” Jesper said, chuckling.

And thus, the teasing of how short Y/N was began.

4; Tell Them How Sweet They Are

The teasing didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. Because while the nickname ‘Shortcake’ was coined by Jesper, everyone had chosen new nicknames for how short Y/N was. Matthias called them Bubbles. Nina called them Babycakes. Wylan called them Munchkin. Inej called them Mini-me. And even Kaz had found a nickname for them; Firecracker.

But for Jesper, he wanted to find other ways to tease, or to tell Y/N what they meant to him, and low and behold, chance struck him. Eating with the Crows at one of the bakeries in Ketterdam, Y/N sitting next to Nina, with Jesper on their other side. Matthias sat next to Nina, squished between her and Inej. Wylan sat on the edge of the booth, opposite of Jesper, with Kaz sitting in a chair at the head of the booth.

Jesper glanced over at Y/N every once in a while, who was enjoying their creampuffs, he watched a bit of the filling be left on their lips. letting out a small chuckle, he watched Y/N turn toward him. “Hm?” They murmured, tilting their head. Sometimes Jesper wondered what someone like Y/N was doing in the Barrel. How Kaz had even found someone so sweet and kind roaming the streets.

“You got something a little-” Jesper raised his hand, his thumb brushing the pastry filling from Y/N’s lips. “There,” and with that, he chuckled before eating the filling. Y/N’s eyes had followed his hand the entire way, becoming flustered just as they had in the Crow Club just a few nights ago.

“That was my leftovers for later, Big Bear,” Y/N glared, their tone though was playful. The entire table now stared at them. Nina had a knowing look on their face, Matthias just seemed confused. Inej had let out a small laugh, Kaz’s eyes shifting to Inej upon hearing the sound. And Wylan? He just took another bite of his pie, his attention unwavered.

“Shortcake, you’re really telling me you would’ve saved any amount of those creampuffs as leftovers? I doubt it, they’re your favorite,” Jesper observed, making Y/N huff and taking another bite of a creampuff.

“They’re sweet and warm, of course I wouldn’t leave a single one for leftovers,” Y/N deemed, crossing their arms as they went to grab their last creampuff, but Jesper beat them to it, biting into it.

“Hmm, they’re not as sweet as you,” Jesper said, kissing Y/N’s nose, making them go cross-eyed with a smile.

“Hey! That was MY last creampuff!” Y/N said, coming to their senses after they realized Jesper had taken their last one. Before they could go to grab it though, Jesper raised it above his head. Oh, it was on. Before too long, Y/N was chasing Jesper out of the bakery, leaving the other Crows a laughing mess as they watched Jesper run, yelling for Y/N to catch him.

“Those two are soulmates,” Nina said, a wide smile on her lips as she watched Y/N practically topple Jesper onto the concrete, grabbing what was left of their creampuff and biting into it. Her eyes then shifted to Matthias.

“Soulmates.” Matthias agreed, smiling.

3; Save Them From The Bad Guy

Y/N was smart, Jesper knew that. They could probably give Jesper and Kaz a run for their money if they would like to. They were small, agile, talented. They were everything in Jesper’s eyes and more. But that didn’t make them any less susceptible to being overwhelmed during a job. They weren’t Nina Zenik. They weren’t Grisha, meaning if the right spots were hit they could indeed be overtaken.

But with Jesper by their side, that potential went down exponentially. Because whether Y/N believed it or not, and they did, Jesper would protect them with his life. They would do so for one another without hesitation. Which as Kaz put it: ‘is a dangerous prospect.’ The two didn’t care though. Well, in certain ways they did, but where was the fun in giving Kaz the satisfaction of thinking he was somewhat right? Answer: There was none.

Having just grabbed the package they needed during the job, Y/N and Jesper were about to be home free when they were spotted by the cashier, who undoubtedly worked for Pekka Rollins. Going eye wide, the two stared at the cashier for some time, and before they could come up with a Kaz level idea, the two bolted from the shop, Y/N’s hand in Jesper’s.

“We’re not dying today, Shortcake!” Jesper laughed over the commotion, the adrenaline of the job running through him as they ran.

“Hopefully not, Big Bear!” Y/N yelled, letting go of Jesper’s hand and breaking off from him. They were bigger targets together. Slipping through the crowds, Y/N ran as quickly as their legs could carry them. But speed could only make up so much when men who seemed twice your size were chasing after you.

Y/N knew Ketterdam well, but not Inej well. Not Kaz well. So when they came face to face with a wall that was too big for them to climb before the men managed to catch up, they scowled. Where the hell is Inej when you need her?

Turning to face the men who showed up, Y/N showed their hands. “Went after the wrong one,” They remarked, smirking. The men didn’t seem to be having it though, and as they stalked towards Y/N, a voice was heard behind them.

“And to think you’re usually the one saving my ass!” And then the three men fell, one bullet lodged in each of the men’s heads. Y/N looked up, smiling as they saw Jesper.

“Got the package?” Y/N asked, Jesper showcasing the bag of whatever it was Kaz had deemed they needed.

“I do, but I also have the most important package.” Jesper stepped over the bodies and took Y/N’s hand again, a wide smile on his lips.

“And what package would that be?” Y/N knew what he was going to say, but they wanted to hear it outloud

“Why you, of course!” Jesper winked, kissing Y/N’s forehead before they were off to bring the package to Kaz.

2; Let Them Borrow Your Clothes

Another night at the Crow Club, but something was unusual. Jesper was used to having a stalking Y/N behind him wondering how poker worked. This time though, they didn’t seem to be found anywhere in the Crow Club. It almost made Jesper not want to play. What was the point of playing if you didn’t have your lucky charm? There was no reason in his mind, especially as he began to have a bad streak of luck. So, standing from the table, he went to the booth Inej sat at, Kaz across from her.

“Have you guys seen Y/N?” Jesper asked, earning him a small smirk from Kaz, who simply glanced at Inej. He’d seen the newest Crow go to Jesper’s room while he’d gone down the steps. Kaz had been tempted to ask what they were doing, but he already had a feeling about what they were doing.

“They’re at the Slat,” Kaz said, deciding to rat out Y/N.

Jesper raised a brow. Weird. “Have fun you two! Inej, make sure he doesn’t come up with some more heist plans while I’m gone,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Inej. Turning from the table, he made his way out of the Crow Club, walking to the Slat and up to Y/N’s room, which was right next to his. Granted, they were really just tiny spaces meant to serve for the necessities. So, when Jesper arrived at their floor, he stopped in his tracks.

“Shortcake?”

Y/N turned, cursing as they realized they’d been caught. Instead of being adorned in their usual black attire, Y/N wore one of Jesper’s jackets.

“Listen, it was right there, it looked warm, I just really really . . . why are you walking towards me like that?” Y/N asked, watching as Jesper stepped towards them. If only they could see into Jesper’s mind, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was completely, utterly in love with the person before him. Letting out a gentle laugh, he kissed the corner of Y/N’s lips, earning him wide eyes.

“It looks better on you, although a little big, it’s perfect, Shortcake” Jesper said, in turn, he received a giddy laugh.

“Why thank you Big Bear. It is really warm, I may have to steal it,” Y/N remarked, crossing their arms and posing in the jacket for Jesper.

“You can’t steal it if I give it to you.”

“Hey! No fair. We’re criminals. I shall steal Jesper Fahey’s coat!”

“Mhm, now come on. I think you should show off your new attire at the Crow Club,” Jesper said, taking Y/N’s hand, but instead, they moved to stand beside Jesper, moving his arm so it wrapped around their waist.

When they arrived at the Crow Club once more, Inej glanced at Kaz, who now looked over his plans he’d been drawing out, his eyes on Y/N and Jesper.

“You’re so in on them being soulmates aren’t you?” Inej asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dearest Inej,” Kaz spoke quietly, making sure only she could hear.

1; Telling Them You Love Them

Whatever Jesper was planning, Y/N had a feeling it involved something big. They’d never seen him as frantic as he currently was. Then again, Jesper was a pretty frantic person at times, but still this probably took the cake for the most frantic. He had flowers, candies, creampuffs, not that Y/N knew all of that.

He was receiving different ways to tell people that you love them, and now he had no idea which one to go with. Nina told him pastries. Inej told him to simply be outright with it. Matthias told him some weird Fjerdan way they would do it. Wylan had shrugged, he’d never really been in love before. He hadn’t even DARED to ask Kaz for obvious reasons.

That left him with his own way of doing it. He wasn’t sure if Y/N would like it. He knew she’d like the cream puffs. But the candies? The flowers? Were they that kind of romantic?

It also didn’t help that when he’d asked everyone, he’d at first told them that he had feelings for Y/N, and they’d all replied that they knew. That didn’t help his nerves, because did that mean Y/N knew? Or were they just as oblivious as he was?

The night seemed simple enough - until it wasn’t.

The flowers didn’t smell right to Jesper, so he threw them out. The candies, as Nina revealed, were Y/N’s least favorite. The only thing he still had by the beginning of the night were the creampuffs. But he wanted to do this right. He had to do this right.

Entering the bakery, Jesper spotted Y/N at one of the booths, eating creampuffs. Well, there goes the last thing he had to give them. Making his way to the table, Jesper watched as Y/N raised their head to look at him.

“Don’t tell me Kaz sent you to come and ruin my night with some heist plans, Big Bear,” Y/N said, biting into their cream puff, humming in delight.

“Nope, just me. . . . just me,” Jesper murmured the last bit.

“Just you huh?” Y/N asked, finishing their plate and throwing it out. They stood, thanking the baker before leaving the bakery. Jesper followed behind. His mind raced with ideas on how to do this right. Maybe this was the right way? Stopping in one of the alleys, Jesper sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you!” He called to Y/N, who stalled for a moment, eyes going wide just as they did when Jesper had kissed the corner of their mouth.

“You make me rethink everything I know. You waltzed into the Crows lives, but most importantly, you waltzed into mine. I love you,” Jesper watched Y/N, seeing them laugh a bit.

“Go on, Big Bear,” Y/N spoke, walking slowly towards the gushing Jesper.

“I love the way you let me joke about your height. I love the way you get creampuff filling all over your face, you actually still have some on your lips. I love the way you joke with me during jobs, even when they go terribly wrong,” Jesper chuckled now, his smile wide.

“I love when you wear my clothes. They’re big on you. My jackets almost reach the floor. My sweaters reach your thighs. I love when you stand behind me while I’m playing cards, wondering how the game works. Or why it’s helpful. I love when you sneak into my bed late at night and lie across from me even with the small space we have, acting as if I don’t know you’re there. I love the way you chase me for your last cream puff and tackle me into the ground. But most of all, I love you . . . you, gosh do i love you,” Jesper felt out of breath. He wanted to yell from the top of rooftops that he loved Y/N. The things he’d do for them were endless.

“You know what I love about you, Jesper Fahey?” Y/N asked, tilting their head as they stopped in front of the breathless boy.

“What?”

“Everything,” and then they were on their tippy toes, their lips barely meeting Jesper’s.

The taste of cream puff filling hit Jesper first, a familiarity he knew with Y/N. Home. His fingers delicately moved to hold the back of their neck, his eyes shutting as he fully leaned down to kiss them. The pounding in his chest could likely be heard throughout the entirety of Ketterdam. He could feel the concrete underneath him, and it felt like the only stabilizer he had to keep him grounded. For if not for the concrete beneath him, he would’ve thought he was dreaming. Floating, even. But the feeling of their skin under his fingers, their lips. Everything invaded his senses and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want them to stop.

Y/N had dreamed of this moment. The way Jesper’s slightly chapped lips would feel against their own, how soft his skin would feel, how his hair would feel. How he’d feel. Time felt lost, the world around them dimming as they let themself be consumed by this feeling. Nothing had felt so right. No one else existed except them.

Becoming breathless, Jesper pulled from Y/N, his eyes fluttering open as he placed his forehead against theirs. Then he felt the soft feeling of rain beginning to fall. “Isn’t that cheesy,” he chuckled, making Y/N laugh and take his hand.

“Ready to run through the rain, Big Bear?” They whispered.

Jesper didn’t answer, and instead he turned, pulling Y/N with him towards the Slat, their laughs being heard for miles.

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xlovelybeanx · 4 years

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✭ This show has completely wrecked my mental game up - so you know what I have to say to that?

...

✭Let’s write cute fan fiction about it in hopes that it’ll cure the sadness right out! (I doubt it..I have been crying over it for the past few months.)

✭Spoilers ahead! If you have not seen past episode 9, please do not read. If you still wanna read, that’s completely fine <3!

✭Also this is my first time writing something like this! I hope you guys like it.

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Title: “Smile, my sunshine.”

Ship: AshEiji

Summary: Ash’s mind had been torn apart from that night - the night where he had to do such a disgraceful thing to his best friend - and has been restless ever since. Luckily, Eiji knows the right way to keep him happy.

WARNING: This is a tickle fic! There are mentions of death, and grief. Please be mindful when reading! Also, art doesn’t belong to me. (I wish I could draw like that.)

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“Oi, Ash.”

Eiji pounded on his door once more, his tone growing frustrated with every time he had to come back and pound on this stupid door. The frown on his face was clear to see from miles away and his eyes were narrowed so low that he was afraid that he might end up breaking the door with how intense he was staring at it.

There would be no need for him to feel this way if somebody - Ash Lynx - would actually get up and go on with his day. Of course, if Eiji was in that situation, he wouldn’t want to get out of bed either - but Ash couldn’t act like the world was ending. He had to live on because life was ... just worth living.

And because somebody made breakfast, Eiji thought angrily to himself before grabbing the knob and twisting it harshly. Walking into the younger male’s room, everything looked ... almost perfect. Bed was made, curtains were semi-open, and the rest of his stuff was laying in a neat pile - just the way Eiji liked it.

But that lead the question - where was Ash?

Eiji almost went to call out his name, but stopped as he heard the soft trickle of water coming from the shower. Slowly making his way to the sound, he opened the door to find a sleep deprived child sitting in the tub with only his black underwear on. ... the elder’s eyes almost filled with pity. Walking over, the black haired boy tried to figure out what’s going on.

“Ash, talk to me.. did you get any sleep last night?” he asked, petting the top of his head softly. The blonde shook his head, a blank stare still stuck on his face.

“I couldn’t,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with a force that was even surprising to him. “...I c-couldn’t.. think about anything but him, Eiji...” the younger broke down in sobs, covering his face with his hands, feeling the soft patter of water on the back of his hands. It somehow seemed to comfort him, if only a little.

It would make sense that he didn’t get over Shorter’s death that quickly. But to think, for a guy to be almost broken over something he watches everyday - it tugged at the black haired boy’s heartstrings in a way that nothing has ever done before.

“...you should’ve just talked to me,” Eiji mumbled into his ear, closing his eyes as he rested his head on his shoulder. “I’m here for that reason, you know.” Ash looked up, his jade green eyes filled with an indescribable pain.

“I know..” he said, wiping the last of his tears on his wrist. The other nudged Ash’s arm and pointed toward the door. “...why don’t we cuddle so you can fall asleep?” He immediately shook his head. He looked as if he was going to die if he fell asleep - hence him sitting in the tub and hoping that it kept him awake.

“I’m not leaving you in the tub.” He crossed his arms, standing back up. The other leaned against the wall, blinking a couple of times to force himself to stay awake. Ash immediately looked up at him - there was a bright aura coming from him, as if he was the embodiment of sunshine itself. The other exhaled quickly, standing up with shaky legs. “..woah! Woah, careful now,” Eiji said, grabbing on to Ash’s arms when it seemed like he was going to fall.

“...I’m okay,” he said as he wrapped an arm around him. “Sit down,” Eiji ordered him as he sat on a seat they keep in their room. The younger obliged, reluctantly, watching as he got a towel from the bathroom and started drying his hair.

“...you’re depressed about ..it, aren’t you?”

The question caught Ash by surprise.

“...of course I am. .. he’s always been my best friend - I don’t think I’d be who I am without him. ...but when I saw you getting attacked by him, I knew I couldn’t just.. sit there and do nothing. I-It was so hard to pull the trigger. ..I almost couldn’t do it..” before he had realized it, the gang leader had been throwing out his feelings to the boy who stuck by him the entire time. “...I know I didn’t know Shorter that well,” Eiji started, finishing with his hair and moving down to his body. “...but I could tell how much he meant to you. Probably much more than me,” he said jokingly, hoping to brighten the mood. The blonde’s expression hadn’t changed from the sad frown he had on since he shot Shorter.

... what could I do to make him laugh, Eiji thought as he continued drying. Then he hit across something - something spectacular - and if it was true, well, maybe he would be able to get Ash out of this depressive situation that held him hostage.

“Ash~?”

“Eiji,” he mumbled, trying to be snarky and failing.

“Can I do something?”

“...sure, go ahead,” the blonde yawned as he stretched upwards, his whole body arching into the best stretch he’s ever had. This is when he took the time to seize his opportunity.

Eiji’s fingers travelled directly to his ribs, soft and delicate not to hurt him but to drive him wild with laughter instead. The reaction was instantaneous; Ash let out an unmanly squeak while one arm shot down to protect himself, the other to cover his mouth.

“...ohohokay, mind explaining that noise, Ash?” Eiji couldn’t keep himself from laughing like an idiot - the gang leader’s face was entirely red and he shook it, unable to say anything at the moment.

“Playing the strong, silent type, eh? Lucky for you, I win tickle fights with my sister all the time so I’m prepared. But the real question is, are you?” From Ash being so weak from not sleeping all night, he was actually quite surprised when the elder picked him up to the best of his ability and threw him on the bed, sitting on his waist with a snarky grin on his face.

“Ash, say, do you think you can smile? Just for me?”

“...please don’t,” Ash mumbled, his eyes closed and his whole face bright red - he didn’t want to know what came next.

“Don’t what?”

“Tickle me!”

Eiji’s grin only widened as the boy fell right into his trap. This is exactly where he wanted him to be - and he was playing right into it, too.

“Tickle you? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

And so 10 fingers descended on the blonde’s poor ribs, ever so gently scraping across each and every singular rib.

“..h-hey! Waihihihit-! Stahahahap that-! N-No!” Hysterical giggles poured out of the blonde’s mouth. Eiji was so surprised by his squeaky laughter that he almost just stopped tickling him to begin with - ...he found it honestly quite cute. The way his head was thrown back, the bright red blush on his face.. it was so cute.

“...oh? What’s wrong? Does it tickle? How badly? On a scale from 1-10?” The teasing tone dripped with every word he said, and it didn’t stop there. “..broken already? My little sister can handle more than you. Beaten by a girl? Seriously? That’s pretty frustrating isn’t it?”

And it made it 100 times worse.

“CUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OHOHOUT! EIHIHIJI! F-FUHUHUCK! STAHAHAP!” The blonde was now squirming profusely, shutting his eyes tightly as tears pricked on the corners. Oh god, what had he found himself into it? Him? Tickled to death by the weakest, most kind, most gullible person he knows? That’s just unfair at that point.

“..hmm, I wonder what happens here.” Eiji quickly stuck his hands underneath of his arms, expecting a small reaction. The reaction he got was anything but small.

Ash shrieked, his hands collapsing on his most sensitive spot and trapping his friend’s hands there. Eiji’s eyes widened in surprise, smirking along with his friend who was basically getting tortured in front of him. “Ah, Ash, ...I can’t do anything when you trap my hands like that, you know. You have to get them out.” He said, wiggling his fingers faster.

“YOHOHOHOHO BIHIHIHITCH! FUHUHUHUHUHUCK!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“...hmm, let’s see, are you happy yet?”

“YEHEHEHEHES! FOHOHOR GOHOHOHODS SAHAHAHAKE, YEHEHES!”

“... and are you gonna come straight to bed so you get enough sleep?”

“I CAHAHAHANT- I HAHAHAHAVE A JOHOHOHOB!”

Eiji dug his fingers into his friend’s underarms, furrowing his eyebrows. Ash jerked, throwing his head back once more as his whole body shook with ticklish agony.

“I said... ‘are you gonna come straight to bed so you can get enough sleep?’”

“FIHIHIHIHINE! WHAHAHAHATEHEHVER! NOHOHOW PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP!”

And just like he said, the other stopped with no hesitation, leaving a bright red teary-eyed man laying there, gasping for breath. “...w-whahat.. the hell, Eiji..” he mumbled, covering his face.

“Your laugh is quite cute,” Eiji said softly into his ear. “...Don’t expect me to forget about this~!” The other laid down on the bed, pulling the blonde to his chest as he pet the back of his head, watching him melt into his touches as if he were some sort of animal.

“..can I ask you a selfish favor, Eiji?” Ash whispered, burying his face within his chest. The other nodded, smiling softly.

“...stay.. by my side. Please.”

“You don’t have to worry- even if the world turns it’s back on you, I’ll stay by your side. Forever.” Ash slowly closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep as he felt satisfied with the answer he got. Eiji leaned down and gave him a kiss on his forehead - something he’ll forget when he wakes up but something Eiji will treasure forever.

“.... always smile, my sunshine.”

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Hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be doing more in the future when I get more confident. .. thank you for reading! <3.

#tickle community #anime #anime tickling #banana fish #lee!ash #ler!eiji #thesetwoaresocuteohmygod #first post

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tastetheravenn · 4 years

Text

The One with 100 Ways

Jackson Wang x Kim Namjoon/ RM

Description: Jin is away on his year of military service, and Namjoon needs a friend. He just never expected it to be Jackson Wang.

Content Warnings: Steamy and sensual but no smut, mild cursing, mild drinking

A/N: Have we decided the definitive ship name for Jackson x RM?? Anyway, this is an addition to the last fic “The One Where Namjoon Doesn’t Know What to Say,” but you can totally read this on its own! I hope you enjoy!

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Jackson Wang was standing in his kitchen. Watching him, laughter suspended in his eyes over the rim of a beer bottle.

Namjoon had given into the other man’s countless phone calls, texts, emails for god’s sake – and anyway, what with the Bangtan Boys on break, Jin away, Jungkook at university, Jin away… it’d been a year already. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe.

“Wait, wait – show me again!” Jackson prompted. “Teach me your ways. I –”

“You’re fine. You’re not a bad rapper, Jackson,” Namjoon said, a little exasperated and a little confused. He wasn’t even sure why he was so frustrated, his insides unruly like the storm outside the window. He wasn’t even sure why he was confused at Jackson’s presence here, except maybe that bit in the back of his head that kept trying to remember whether Jin had ever even been in this apartment. They’d never stopped, had they? Was it that each other’s faces reminded one another of the endless moving?

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked, and Namjoon started as he continued to absently stir the pot, lost inside of it as he was.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Nothing important. Can I sit here?” Jackson asked, gesturing to the counter. Namjoon shrugged and Jackson nimbly scrambled up on the counter, swinging his sock feet near the other man’s knees.

“That doesn’t count, you know.” Receiving only a confused look, Namjoon elaborated, “You’re still shorter than me!”

Jackson gave a short laugh, though his eyes remained thoughtful and deep. He reached out a hand and pointed to Namjoon’s face, fingers stopped just short of the other man’s dimple. “There it is!” Before Namjoon could react to Jackson Wang’s hand hovering near his face, he withdrew it, expensive watch flashing, and ruffled the back of his own head. “Do you need help there?”

Namjoon, deciding that he was done being flustered by attractive men sitting on his counter, was sloppily cutting vegetables. Slaughtering them really. Who forgot to teach this man how to adult? “Nah. I’m good.” Jin usually does the cooking, he thought. But he didn’t want to talk about Jin to Jackson. Not that it mattered. Not that anything had happened. I mean, a couple of letters? Just the same to the other guys.

But he plastered a smile on his face and turned towards Jackson. “I’m good, but thanks.”

“I can leave if you want me to.” The problem, Namjoon supposed, was that he wasn’t even sure if he liked Jackson. It was awful, really. But he was nice, he was fun… in small doses. Really, he hadn’t had a chance to see him as anything but a puppy. Namjoon heard Jackson ask him for help, heard him make casual, self-deprecating remarks, and assumed that the other man only said those things because he wanted a free handout of compliments. Because, though Namjoon was insecure in many ways, he was cocky too. He recognized confidence, or thought he did.

Jackson was shallow, Namjoon assumed.

But he was leaving.

Namjoon had once said he wanted to be found. He’d wanted to be found by Jin (but hadn’t the other man stopped looking?) (But hadn’t it been beyond both of their control?) Namjoon whipped around and caught Jackson by the wrist. “I’m sorry, I’m a shit host,” he said, because Jimin told him to have a good time, and Taeh had said he understood, and J-Hope had cried when he couldn’t relax enough to cry himself.

Jackson nodded his head, sizing him up as if they hadn’t hung out a few other times before in the previous month, or that he hadn’t admired RM and basically chased him down for a single beer, just one before hitting the road. “Okay, but I’m helping you cook -”

Namjoon backed up, hands raised. “No way! I’ve seen that smoothie you make…”

“Hey! It’s nutritious!” Jackson walked up to the pot and stared in, wrinkling not just his nose but his entire face. Definitely a puppy. “We can order out,” he began before Namjoon walked up and nudged him out of the way with his hip.

“Oh, move! I’m trying to do a thing here.”

And that was, more or less, how they ended sitting with their backs against the stove and the pot in between them. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have plates, but it seemed to be the mood of the night. Besides, it wasn’t a date or anything, Namjoon figured. Just two bros, being bros.

“I thought I was gonna die. It was that bad,” Jackson elaborated. “Okay so, here I was…” he continued, waving his arms and gesturing with his chopsticks.

“Wait, wait, wait, you had a panic attack and that’s how you tell the story?”

“Hm?” Jackson asked through a mouthful. He glanced around for a napkin, but Namjoon reached over instead and wiped away the spot of sauce near his lips with a flick of his finger.

“I said – nah man, you heard me!” He laughed. “Are you ever serious?” Namjoon said it jokingly, but it was a serious question.

“When I have to be,” Jackson responded, and they stared at each other for a moment in the silence. Namjoon noticed how close their heads had gotten, though Jackson didn’t seem to – or at least didn’t acknowledge it – when he broke into a smile. “It’s better to be wild. The funny guy. But I’m happy you guys are on a break. It helps with burnout.” Namjoon opened his mouth and then closed it, looking away. “Okay, your turn!”

“What?”

“Confess! I mean, not the deepest darkest stuff, I don’t know you like that.”

“Don’t know me like that, or don’t want to know me like that?” Namjoon said, wiggling his eyebrows. Sometimes Namjoon had no idea who the fuck he was.

“Hm, what time is it? Check back in an hour.” Namjoon bent his head as he laughed, to hide his red face.

“Okay, okay,” Namjoon began, sitting up. “I think I’m a shitty dancer.”

“Not a secret. Next!”

“Hey, asshole!” Jackson gnawed the edge of his chopsticks, cheeky and thoughtful, before balancing them carefully on the edge of the pot.

He stood up and brushed off his immaculate pants, reaching his hands down to help Namjoon up, hands to forearms. RM was a live wire. “Okay, follow me!” he shouted, standing in the middle of the kitchen, just out of reach of the bright light. The wind buffeted the screen door against the wooden one.

“You look like you’re in one of your music videos…”

“Yeah, hm, you have a fog machine? I’ll look like a better dancer if you can’t see most of me. You really are already a better dancer than me…” Jackson said, glancing over his shoulder at Namjoon.

“Jackson, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re shitty at things. Fish for compliments,” RM said. Oh God, had he said that out loud?

Jackson shrugged. “Are you in my head, RM?” Jackson started dancing, leaning forward and whispering, “Maybe I just like the sound of my name on your lips.” RM had never met anyone he wanted to hit almost as much as he wanted their fingers to hover near his face, almost touching. “Come on,” Jackson said, and they were dancing together, nearly. No music, just the rain outside on the windows and the whisper of their socks on the wood floor. “No, no,” Jackson said, his voice with the soft pedal pressed.

He walked near the other man, reaching his hands towards RM’s hips. He stopped, his hands hovering again. RM, lips dry, throat a desert, nodded and Jackson put his hands on his hips. “Like this,” he said, and moved his RM’s hips underneath his hands. Slowly, Jackson knelt down and looked up at RM, his eyes dark. He leaned forward and rested his head in the other man’s stomach, RM’s own shell-shocked hands reaching around and touching Jackson’s hair. “I’m sorry I like you so much,” Jackson said, his hands holding around RM’s middle.

“I thought I hated you,” RM said, and he could’ve sworn he was drunk on something, though he’d only had one or two beers. Maybe he was drunk on the rain and the sound of socks on wood floors or a watch that slipped down an arm as its owner brushed his fingers through his own hair.

Jackson snorted into RM’s stomach. “I get that a lot, I think.”

“And then what happened?” Yoongi asked, smirking, eyeing the hickey that peeked out from inside Namjoon’s loose collar.

“Oh, shut up!” Namjoon said into his drink.

“This is good. Have you told Jimin? He’ll probably throw you a party.” Namjoon sighed and fixed him with a half-exasperated, half-fond smile that was cracking around the edges and near his eyes. “Okay, okay,” Yoongi said, grinning just a bit. He leaned back and watched his friend with half-lidded eyes. Anyone would think he wasn’t listening, sleeping or wanting to sleep. But he was the best listener. “Does this have to do with Jin coming home?”

“He is home. He – he came to visit me. Yoongi, he saw Jackson. Who may have been wearing one of my shirts.”

If Yoongi was surprised, he didn’t show it. Namjoon didn’t fail to see his tell as his eyes shifted and he shifted in his seat before going back to his composure. “Are you okay?” he asked.

RM thought back. He had woken up in the morning nearly dizzy, looking over and seeing the beautiful back of a beautiful man in his bed. But it wasn’t a bad dizzy. He wasn’t ashamed or awkward, but not confident really either. He was more stable than he’d ever felt before. Sum, zero, placid, the sun that streamed in through the window and bounced off of the rain drops still suspended on the window. What time was it? Nearly eleven, he saw. Found a shirt on the floor, a pair of sweats.

Then there was a knock on the door. Almost eleven, he reminded himself. Namjoon was usually a fairly early riser, but then again, he usually went to bed early too. Earlier and earlier as of late. He was running out of reasons to stay awake. He glanced back at Jackson, wondering why he had hated him. Maybe he was afraid of him, a bit. But like most people, he was without any mask when he slept. Come to think of it, Jackson was pretty mask-less when he was awake too.

The knock came again, and as he remembered in a sunny café with one of his best friends sitting across from him, he flinched.

It was Jin, of course it was Jin. And RM realized in that moment, that for once, he hadn’t thought of the man grinning on his doorstep. He hadn’t thought of any of them. Nothing. But then, of course, it hit him like a truck. But, could he cheat if they had never said I love you and meant it like I love you – could it be called cheating when they’d never really held one another like they were holding one another? When he’d only got two letters, the same letters the others received?

Jin rubbed an awkward hand through his shortly cropped hair. “Hi!” he said before cracking up. Meanwhile, RM was cracking. “I wanted to see you. I have so much to tell you.” Jin had dropped the bag he was carrying on the ground. Honey, I’m home. He pulled Namjoon into a hug, head tucking into the neck of the nearly paralyzed rapper.

Jin was starting to talk, but all Namjoon could hear was I forgot him I forgot himIforgothim, until that is, he could hear Jackson’s voice calling as he walked down the hallway. “Hey, I think you have my shirt, so I stole your shirt…”

“Hey! Snap out of it,” Yoongi said.

“It was bad,” Namjoon said absently.

“Do you regret sleeping with him?”

“Of course not,” he said far quicker than he had thought he felt.

“And yet, you feel like you betrayed Jin.”

“I thought –”

Yoongi held up a hand, leaning forward again. “You don’t have to know everything. We can’t know everything. Not even what’s inside of us. Especially what’s inside of us.”

“Suga, that doesn’t help me at all.”

“Well, maybe when you’re older…” But the other man was smirking even as he started his joke. “Have you talked to Jin about it?”

“Oh, sure. Hey, um, I thought we were in love with each other, but we never talked about it or showed it, and now I feel sick a bit that you saw me with someone else.”

“You can love more than one person,” Yoongi said, as if it’s the simplest equation, written in his DNA. Yoongi tapped his friend’s forehead. “Stop trying to wrap your head around it, because it won’t make the kind of sense you’re looking for…” Yoongi paused and read the face of his friend. “It’ll be okay.” He thought back to when Jin touched his face and told him to shut his brain off, and he thought of Jackson’s hands on his hips, or his fingers hovering near his face. Everything was in stark relief, yet he could see nothing.

Was he really okay? Would it be okay?

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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@princeescaluswords tagged me in a fanfic ask meme, and I’m loling at how few of the questions I can actually answer, because I swear I’ve literally forgotten more fandoms than most people will ever have. And I’ve probably written a good couple million words of fanfic all in total....

I know with just my first fandom alone, Roswell, I was in that one writing regularly for about three years and wrote and published probably a million words between the six or so ‘big fics’ I wrote......21 Down topped out at just over 200K, my Paradise Lost trilogy was probably a little longer as I think Genesis and Exodus were both around 80K and Revelations was probably closer to 100K. Riders of the Storm was around 120K.....Passage to Dawn I never actually finished because I scrapped it halfway through and started over.....and my revised version left off at around 50K I think, but the previous version before that had gotten up to 100K......and then I honestly can’t remember the names of my other two big fics at the moment, lmfao, I just know I had one more that was an amnesia trope fic and one that was....oh! Never mind, just remembered. The Long Dark Night of the Soul was one of my shorter ones, probably somewhere between 60-80K.

But yeah, that was just my first fandom alone......but fandom was a little different then, like in the sense that nobody was really writing posts about meta or episode or character analysis......Roswell fandom existed almost entirely on various messageboards and linked sites created by the community. It was years before Ao3 of course, and while ff.net was around, Roswell was one of those fandoms that just never congregated around it......people posting Roswell fics on ff.net were the outliers, the majority of fandom was centered around sites like roswellfanatics.net, crashdown.com and my personal site/board of choice to hang out and post at, polarattraction.com. I’m pretty sure all of those sites have been defunct for years, and I wish I’d done a better job of saving some of my own fics at least, lol. But point is, the fandom was geared just towards the writing and consumption of fanfic more than anything else......so if you were writing something, it was either a fic itself, or a comment on somebody else’s fic, lol.

Anyway, was just reviewing my various past fandoms, the ones I could remember, and thought of Dark Angel fandom, which I haven’t thought of in forever. Which is kinda funny to me, actually, considering my focus in DA fandom was pretty much exactly my focus in Batfandom - the found family feels.

LOL. Like, I was never one of the better known writers in DA fandom given that my focus was not really the same as most of fandom’s. DA fandom was largely split into two camps locked in eternal ship war - Logan/Max and Alec/Max. I had by this time ‘evolved’ to the point of looking at this and just snobbishly intoning “I do not care for the Straightness of this all and thus I choose to Abstain from the conflict” so there was that at least.....but yeah, thing was, personally, I was in Dark Angel fandom for the found family feels. Max’s eternal search for her siblings she’d been raised with but lost track of when they escaped from Manticore as children.....like that was the good stuff, that was what drew me in and kept me under lock and key until I’d banged out a good couple years’ worth of constant fic writing about her and her siblings before I moved on.

But while Max’s search for her siblings was the catalyst and central plot of the first season of Dark Angel, fandom pretty much only ever took off with the introduction of Alec in the second season, when it became an either/or choice between Alec and Logan. And with most of the second season moving away from Max’s search for her family to focus more on the larger big-picture plots, combined with the fact that most of Max’s siblings never actually made an appearance onscreen.....understandably, they didn’t end up occupying too much of a role in most of fandoms’ fics or interests.

Anyway, like I said, I churned out a shit ton of DA fanfic in a pretty short period of time....my single most popular fic was probably one about transgenics racing to find a cure when they realize they’d been genetically engineered to all ‘expire’ by a certain age, since their creators had no use for genetically engineered super-soldiers past the prime of their lives.

But my personal fave bits of writing, and the series I reeeeeeally regret not saving and wish I could find again, like, there was this one series of one-shots (ranging from a couple thousand words long to some that were about 20-30K long) written about each of Max’s siblings.....all fifteen of them, lol. Jondy’s was the first one I wrote, and one of the first things I wrote in that fandom, and then I just added new stories to that particular series up until Jack’s, the very last one a couple years later....which I THINK was the last thing I ever wrote/posted in that fandom.

And since we only ever met about half of these characters on the show, and most of them only for an episode each, for the most part they were blank slates and the equivalent of writing OCs......and so I’ll always have a soft spot for my time in DA fandom solely because of how many people told me my version of Max’s various siblings was like, the definitive version for them and what they based their own fics or takes on her siblings on. Swoon. Like, that’s my favorite kind of compliment, especially in fanfic writing.

So that series was my Big Thing even if it wasn’t my most popular or well-known fic, and the various stories in it were weird and whimsical and largely experimental. Because part of the point of fic writing for me instead of writing original fic is its like....fanfic is often the place where I just get weird with my writing and try new things even just stylistically. See what works and what doesn’t, etc.

Anyway, kinda curious if there’s anyone out there who was in Dark Angel fandom at all to any degree, or if any of these sound familiar or if anyone remembers reading them.

Like, so Jondy was Max’s sister who we never met in canon but Max talked about often as being her favorite sibling, and her story in this series was called “Little Lightning Girl.” In it she was a stripper slash vigilante, who used her job to take note of predatory guys who then she preemptively scared away from her coworkers or ran totally out of town. I forget how it went exactly, but that one was written as though it was all her stream of consciousness, and she had to my mind a kind of chaotic, whimsical sort of nature, so there was something in there like:

“Call me little lightning girl, for I’ve lightning in my veins. My hair is always frizzy, my steps all flicker-shimmy-shake. But when I strike, boom, clap, I’m thunder in reverse - by the time you hear the rumble, its already too late. That was you hitting the ground. Don’t hurry getting up. I can wait.”

And then Zane’s story was called “Zen and the Art of Not Breaking Your Customer’s Fucking Face (remember, its bad for business).”

Brin’s was “I Wasn’t Born Yesterday (but yesterday, I remember being very small).”

Zack’s was “Rules For When The Sky Is Falling (and this time it isn’t your fault).”

Syl’s was “The Kind of Girl You Bring Home to Meet Your Parents (when you’ve got the kind of parents that need killing).”

Ben’s was “They keep telling me I’m crazy (I say its the world that’s gone mad).”

Tinga’s was “A Storybook Kind of Princess (with a Grimm kind of happily ever after)” and Krit’s was “The Good Die Young, So Boy, You Better Be Bad.”

Kavi’s was “I Never Learned How To Play Ball (striking out comes naturally).”

Vada’s was “Chase Me To The Desert and Watch Me Live, I Bet I’ll Thrive (you better believe I was born to survive).”

And then Seth’s was “All Her Brothers’ Keeper (you keep your secrets and I’ll keep the watch).”

And though technically not escapees with the rest of them, I am anal and a completionist, so of course I had to write ones for Eva, Jack and Jace too.

Eva’s was “Big Sisters Know Best (so when I say I’ll die for you, just say thank you and live).”

Jace’s was “Leopards Never Change Their Spots (but why worry about my 5% leopard when I’m 10% shark).

And Jack’s was “Shelter The Innocent (but don’t look at the boy without shelter and say that boy, he’s no good).”

Anyway, been randomly thinking about those today now. Well, not randomly since I can follow the train of thought that led me to thinking about them, but you know what I mean. Its just kinda funny to me that I do remember those particular stories so well when there’s entire other fandoms I can barely remember writing in at all. And DA fandom wasn’t even one I was in all that long, ever knew too many other people in, or like....idk. I definitely, definitely have written much more well read and frequently commented upon stories than that fairly random little series of almost-OCs, but for some reason it stuck around in my head a lot longer and a lot more clearly than a ton of other stuff.

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bevioletskies · 5 years

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summary: Peter and Gamora have been married for five months, so really, it’s about time they go on their first date.

(This fic takes place after everybody wants to rule the world.)

word count: 3.3k | ao3

Gamora, despite being the former princess of the Titans, was never one for a life of luxury and whimsical fantasies. She lived on a modest ship, rotated between the same three white tank tops and two pairs of pleather leggings, and only indulged in sweets when her teammates felt like it. Even thinking back to the excess of her too-public wedding made her shudder in silent disgust; the amount of gold, the cakes and pastries, the cheek kisses and high-pitched shrieks of fake excitement across the room, it all made her stomach turn. However, as she sat in the large marble tub (it was gold-plated!) of her hotel suite at the Xandar Prime Plaza, soaking away the ever-present ache in her muscles and the insistent buzz in her brain, she had to admit - there was something about a good bath that almost made it feel like it was worth compromising her values.

She flipped idly through the Galaxian Gazette, enjoying the way the gently fragrant bath oils eased their way into her dry, cracked skin. The latest society dinner of her nightmares was to start in an hour, but she never needed much time to get ready, so she was perfectly content to stay right here for at least another twenty minutes. That is, until the door burst open.

“Peter!” she exclaimed, nearly dropping her newspaper into the water in surprise. “You need to knock.”

“Honey, I’ve seen you naked at least - ”

“Not the point,” Gamora interrupted firmly. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find my tie. Y’know, the one with the little spaceships - ”

“Oh,” she groaned, tipping her head back to stare despondently at the ceiling like it had personally wronged her. “You had me thinking it was an emergency. And it’s in the front pocket of your carry-on.”

“It was an emergency,” Peter insisted. His eyes flickered briefly to the newspaper. “Find anything interesting?”

“A small mention of our successful diplomatic trip to Baluur, but they misspelled your name,” Gamora said, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “The letters section is intriguing. I assumed people wrote in with problems, maybe ones we could attend to, but it’s mostly just...expressions of sentiment. Fluff pieces.”

“Can I see?” he asked, moving to sit on the edge of the tub. She angled it so he could read over her shoulder, watching his expression change while he scanned the pages. “I mean, they’re nice. It’s romantic.”

“You would think so,” she snorted. “At least they’re a sight better than the direct mail we’ve received. The ship still smells like burnt hair, and it’s been at least a week.”

“What can I say? People love a prince,” Peter grinned.

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession...and you’re not a prince anymore, Captain,” Gamora retorted, sinking deeper into the bathwater out of petulance. Though she’d meant it as an insult, the huskiness of her cadence made Peter shiver.

“I’ll leave you to it, General,” he said, teasing, brushing a kiss on the crown of her head and saluting her on the way out the door. Gamora rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help but look back to the letters, thinking back to the letters Peter’s mother had written to him while she was in the hospital, and wondered in a sort of silly, whimsical, fantastical way, if Peter would ever write a letter for her.

Dinner was the usual mind-numbing affair for the Guardians, who had become more accustomed to fistfights and all-out brawls than polite society and “how are you”s. Peter and Mantis were the most experienced with social gatherings, but still, both of them were itching to get back to the world they’d known for far shorter but far better, the world where they were heroes and not gods. It was a compromise, though; working alongside the Nova Corps meant showing up alongside the Nova Corps, and when they were called to a week-long series of conferences and meetings and dinners on Xandar, there was no saying no.

Peter and Gamora were making customary rounds as a couple, something they were still getting used to. After all, they’d been married for five months but truly together for two, and their public appearances had been pretty minimal when they were living on Ego together. It was one of the rare times where Gamora was more nervous than Peter, her fingernails digging welts into the crease of his elbow while they walked, desperately hoping no one wanted to talk to them. Unfortunately, they weren’t so lucky.

“Captain, General, what a...surprise that you’re both here,” one particular dour-looking man sniffed, completely stone-faced. “After the last incident, I wasn’t expecting Nova Prime to invite you back.”

“Nova Prime loves us, Councilman,” Peter said, his mouth tight, his syllables sharp. “I hear we’re a hit with everyone’s kids.”

“Speaking of children - ” another pair of pinch-faced diplomats came sauntering up to them, practically circling them like they were prey; Gamora instinctively took a step back. An army of soldiers, she could handle. Politicians, less so. “There’s been talk lately.”

“There’s been talk since the day we married,” Gamora said coolly. “Talk means nothing.”

“You must know how it looks to people,” the other diplomat added. “The sudden marriage, the death of your fathers - ”

“Thanos was never my father. He was a man who made the mistake of calling himself such,” Gamora continued, colder still. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Without another word, she took Peter’s hand and led him away toward the bar, in need of a strong drink to drown out the whispers, or rather, the snide comments that some people felt far too bold about making to her face.

“Almost makes me miss the days where the most ‘duties’ I ever had were just...flying into the capital and hanging out with my people. At least they didn’t try to tell me my marriage isn’t real,” Peter sighed, sinking into a barstool. He waved the bartender over, calling for two of something with a kick.

Gamora knocked back her drink in one go, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I know this sounds strange coming from me, but you can’t blame them, Peter. No one believes our marriage was a product of love, and no one cares to listen to the fact it was the reverse. It’s natural for them to question our legitimacy. I know I would.”

The tightness in Peter’s shoulders went slack as he nodded in reluctant agreement. “Yeah, I guess. And I guess it doesn’t help we don’t do much outside of Guardians work, either. Y’know, dates and stuff.”

“Peter...just because I can see what they see, doesn’t mean we have to prove anything to them,” Gamora said slowly, setting her glass down. “We agreed that our new lives were about helping others, not about us being put up on pedestals all over again. The worship your people had for you, the fear my people had for me, it’s over. Feeding into their gossip means feeding a vicious, unrelenting beast.” She paused to glance over her shoulder at the prying eyes she could feel lingering on her back, the eyes that immediately turned another direction the moment she looked at them. It was far more people than she wanted to ever look at her, period.

“It’s not about that,” he promised. “We just...we did our whole relationship backwards, right? And there were all these things we did together that felt like dates, but weren’t really. Hanging out in the gardens, reading my mom’s letters together...hell, our engagement party was kind of a date, once we stopped thinking about what it actually was.” He took her hands in his, held them flat against his chest so she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. Gamora briefly remembered the day she’d held his hands like this while he was bleeding out in her lap. She shuddered. “Look, we’re on Xandar, we don’t got any galaxy-saving to do this week, so let’s just have a nice dinner out, you and me, without all this fake diplomatic crap.”

“That actually sounds kind of pleasant,” Gamora admitted, cracking a small smile. “Tomorrow, then?”

“It’s a date,” Peter grinned in return. “Our first real date.”

Right away, Peter and Gamora decided to keep it far more casual than the glitz and glam of the previous night, where they’d been wearing ties and cufflinks, earrings and stilettos, when they were more accustomed to worn cotton T-shirts and leather jackets with suspicious holes in them. Peter also chose a much calmer venue, one that didn’t involve sky-high columns and polished tile; instead, it was the quaint little restaurant they’d visited during the opening week of Mantis’s outreach center, small and cozy and decidedly intimate.

“This is much better,” Gamora said, relieved, once they were sat at their table. A small tealight flickered between them, harshly illuminating the planes of their faces. There was a long crack running along the surface, from Peter’s left thumb to Gamora’s right elbow. The tables were so crammed together, she was certain if she ducked her head a little too fast, her forehead would hit Peter’s, and she could feel their knees brushing together with every move they made. It was perfect. “I know you thrive with attention, but I certainly don’t.”

“Honestly? I was getting kinda uncomfortable, too,” Peter admitted. “And you also know I didn’t like how my people worshipped me for...I dunno, existing. Feels good to be actually doing something now. Something real.”

“Right,” she said abashedly. “I shouldn’t act like you’re immune. None of us are.”

“But for now...we get to be ourselves, ‘cos you know what? No one’s looking,” he grinned, gesturing around them. She glanced around, and indeed, there was no uncomfortable chill through her spine, no hairs sticking up on the back of her neck, no sweat breaking out on her brow that told her someone wanted to scrutinize her for all the things they thought she was and wasn’t. “So let’s order some food. Somethin’ real messy ‘cos we can.”

Twenty minutes later, Gamora was making her way through a hearty bowl of pasta, hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing too much while Peter recounted the anecdotes Yondu had told him about his Ravager days as inappropriate bedtime stories. It was still strange for her to think about how different their lives had been less than a year ago, oblivious to each other’s existence, and oblivious of what they were capable of. She didn’t want to remember the time where her only significant interactions with others were being dragged into training sessions and being told that she and Nebula were to hurt each other until they were raw.

She liked this far more, the surprising ease of their conversation, the steady warmth of their presence. It wasn’t just Peter, though she loved him, of course, but how much she revelled in the companionship of the entire team. There was something genuine about the way Peter and Rocket snapped at each other during frosty mornings when the Milano’s engine froze over, or Mantis’s enthusiasm for cooking despite being sort of terrible at it (and the way Drax bluntly told her it was awful, while Groot grinned through the stomach pain). It was a stark contrast between their private lives and public lives, and she hated to think what would happen if the lines were ever blurred.

“Don’t look now, but I think I see a camera.” Gamora didn’t know her heart could sink so much at the sound of Peter’s voice, an itch beginning to form in her throat from the temptation of wanting to turn around. “Crap, how did they - ”

“Another patron, most likely,” she said, slowly setting her fork down. “We should leave quietly. No need to make a scene.”

She spoke too soon, however - or perhaps too late - as Peter was getting out of his chair, advancing on the offender with a camera that looked dangerously professional (and expensive). Sometimes, she forgot how intimidating he could look when he wanted to be, his wide shoulders hunched forward, his stride long and thundering against the old wooden floor. His fists clenched and unclenched reflexively, momentarily forgetting that his Celestial powers were long gone.

“Hey,” Peter barked. “You mind not starin’ at my wife? I know she’s really something, but - ”

“Captain Quill.” Click, click went the camera; the photographer, or more accurately, the paparazzo seemed to have no shame. “You’ll forgive me for not listening to you.”

“Doubt it,” he snapped. “Leave us alone, we’re just tryin’ to have a quiet night out.”

“You two are so strange,” the other man said, letting out a tittering laugh. He lowered his camera somewhat so his beady eyes could meet Peter’s. “Pretending that killing two warmongers absolves you of killing millions of innocents. Pretending your marriage wasn’t just a scheme to distract everyone from your crimes against the galaxy. Pretending your allegiance with the Nova Corps is deserved.” He stood, towering over Peter. “Think about how many of your people are dead, your highness. Think about the dozens your precious wife killed by her own hand before you even met.”

“That’s it!” Peter roared. In one swift move, he pinned the man down, pressing his elbow into his throat until he was gasping, splayed out across his table and startling his companion. Everyone else let out shouts of surprise, scattering immediately, while a waiter went running into the kitchen for the owner, and the hostess went running for the phone.

Gamora shot out of her seat, running to grab Peter by the arm and yanking him back. “Enough, Peter!” she shouted. “I’ve already told you, this gets us nowhere. Leave him. He doesn’t deserve our attention.”

“You’re a clever one, your highness,” the man sneered, though his spite was lost in the hoarseness of his voice, sitting up and straightening out his shirt collar. Gamora wordlessly pulled Peter away from him fully, pressing a generous amount of units into the owner’s hand when she emerged from the kitchen, red in the face.

“My apologies,” Gamora said awkwardly, though sincerely, bowing her head. When the owner merely glared at Peter in a way that made even Gamora wince, the two of them left, shamefaced and shivering in the chilly Xandarian night.

Peter barely heard a word out of Gamora during the rest of the week, aside from their obligatory duties, and he couldn’t blame her. He had apologized in the ride back to the hotel, the elevator ride to their room, and while they brushed their teeth side-by-side in the bathroom, but she still snatched up a pillow, shoved it into his chest, and informed him that the couch was his.

In his opinion - and probably Gamora’s - his temper was one of his biggest flaws, one he found irrationally difficult to control, and it certainly got him in more trouble with her than he wanted to admit to. He was getting better, though, and Gamora’s temper, too, was levelling off as they grew together, and he wanted to prove that he wasn’t the overly-sensitive, tantrum-throwing boy he’d been when she first met. He was a changing, if not necessarily a fully changed, man. It was hard not to be after all they’d been through.

Knock knock. Gamora let out a long, arduous sigh. At least he was learning. “What do you want, Peter?” she called through the bathroom door. It was the last evening before they finally got to leave Xandar and journey off to their next mission, there was one more self-congratulatory charity event starting in about two hours, and she was having another well-deserved bath.

“Got the Galaxian Gazette for you.”

Gamora stared down the length of the tub at her toes peeking out through the water. “Come in.” Peter did so immediately, pressing the newspaper into her outstretched hand. He sat opposite her on the window nook. “...is there something else?”

“Saw something interesting in the letters section, thought you might wanna read.” He shrugged with all the subtlety of Groot attempting to tiptoe to the Milano’s fridge in search of cake. Still, Gamora decided to entertain him and flipped to the aforementioned page, scanning until she found what he was talking about, and oh, it was very clear what he was talking about.

To my wife,

I remember our first date like it was yesterday (or at least, as of the day I’m writing this). In short, it was terrible, but when you’re you and I’m me, I guess it’s inevitable. I would say that our next one will be better, but that’s too optimistic, even for me.

I also remember our wedding - your dad didn’t bother showing up, and my dad was following us like a shadow. We argued through our first dance, and your brother started a huge fight before the song was over. You know what, I’m starting to see a pattern.

Anyways, I’m pretty sure they charge by the word for these things so I’ll keep it short: we may have married for power, but I would do it all over again for love. Instead of me apologizing for the thousandth time, let’s try this again. But this time, you choose what you want. All I want is you.

Love, your captain

Gamora felt the corners of her mouth twitch, daring her to smile. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to give Peter the satisfaction, though when he put his broad hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze, massaging the heels of his palms into her shoulder blades, she was about ready to forgive him for anything and everything.

Gamora tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. “We’re practically still children, Peter. What are we doing here, pretending we deserve a seat at the table?”

“Hey, you deserve it more than anybody.” He moved around to sit in front of her, his expression painfully earnest. “We talked about this. You saved billions of lives, helped kill two genocidal maniacs. The entire galaxy is safer ‘cos you decided to do somethin’ about it. The rest of us were pretty much just along for the ride.”

“Don’t downplay your contributions,” she insisted, lifting her hand to his cheek. “We’re a team, are we not? There’s no room for doubt.”

“Did you hear yourself two seconds ago?” Peter teased. He placed his hand over hers; her fingers were still slightly damp from the water, warm to the touch. “Anyways, I guess we’re never gonna get peace and quiet unless we go to the most remote planet in the universe, so we gotta just...learn to live with it.”

“Says the attention-seeker,” Gamora retorted, though she leaned in to kiss him anyway. “It’s time we focus on ourselves. We don’t let the press, the public, or anyone else trick us into thinking we deserve less than what we want. Because we do. We do, and we will.”

“You should do big speeches more often,” he murmured against her lips, letting out a quiet grunt of protest when she pulled away. “Speaking of what you want...any ideas for our second date?”

Gamora smiled then, almost impish, and Peter felt his heart melt all over again, watching her move backward in the tub so her back was against the wall, her silhouette backlit by the large window, the water sloshing precariously over the edge. She smirked. “We have at least another hour before we have to get dressed, and I believe this bathtub is big enough for two.”

Peter laughed, reaching to pull his T-shirt over his head. “I’m starting to think I should always ask you first.”

#starmora #starmora fic #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #gotg fic #myfic #marvel #surprise i guess? sort of haha i mentioned this in an ask a little while back #anyways these will be coming at random while i work on ATU and the fifty million things i've got going on irl

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from-the-clouds · 7 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know - A Collins/Reader Series - Chapter 2

Read Chapter One * My Masterlist

Summary: While on leave from the war, Collins meets an aspiring musician stuck working as a waitress at one of his favorite bars.

Word Count: 1,526

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol.

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but it sets the scene for what’s to come next. I appreciated your feedback on the last chapter, please continue to let me know what you think!

Oh, also, I made a playlist for this fic! You can find it here. Be warned, there’s a lot of Kings of Leon on it.

Y/N took a long pull on the beer Jack Collins had bought her, resting her back against the booth and looking at him over the lip of her glass. It was cold and refreshing. He watched her intently, his own beer untouched so far, staring at her from across the booth.

“Thank you for the drink,” Y/N said. “I did need one.”

“Yer welcome,” he said, finally taking a drink of his own. He must have picked up on her disappointment, because after he set his pint glass back down, he asked her. “Wha’ happened?”

“It’s a long story,” she turned her head to look at the bar he’d taken her to. It wasn’t nearly as upscale as the place she worked at, but it was much more lively. Younger people milled about in groups. More upbeat music was playing, and a few couples danced along in pairs. Despite the activity she still felt like she and Collins were alone, they’d taken a booth in the corner away from everyone else. She felt a bit out of place in her frumpy waitress uniform. Mostly, she was confused as to why he’d want to be seen with her, looking like she did, all sweating and flustered after her busy shift.

“Well, we’ve got plenty ‘a time,” he responded.

She thought about this for a moment, looking at the man across from her, not sure if this was really something she wanted to open up about to a someone who was, at the end of the day, a stranger. However, this evening had resulted from a series of bad decisions and she didn’t have much else to lose.

“I’ve always wanted to be a musician.” she scoffed at her statement. “A few months ago, my manager, Dan, said I could play at the restaurant for some experience if I kept it light, simple. Background music was what he was looking for. Over the years, I’ve written my own pieces and I wanted to see if anyone would like what I composed. After I played, Dan got angry with me and told me I couldn’t play again. For a long time, I didn’t, until I finally convinced him to let me tonight. And I just got ahead of myself and played my own music again.” she sighed, taking a deep breath. “So, now I’m just stuck there as a waitress, and he’s not going to give me another chance because I blew it.”

She laughed bitterly to herself before continuing. “It’s really useless, though. I’m not going to be a musician. It’s not an attainable thing, at least, not for me.”

Collins gave her a sad smile. “I believe in ye, after what I heard earlier.”

Her usually guarded behavior didn’t usually mix well with beer, and she softened at his statement, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes. She looked up him. “Thank you, Jack.”

He reached his hand across the table and rested it gently on hers, warm and soft and reassuring, his thumb rubbing her palm. Everything that’d happened to her in the past year seemed to all settle on her shoulders, nearly crushing her, and it was all she could do not to break down front of him. Her problems were miniscule compared to the things he’d seen and done, she was sure of it.

“‘S okay,” he patted her hand lightly, seeming to sense what she was feeling. She nodded, taking a deep breath, regaining her composure.

“That’s enough about me, how about you, Jack? You’re an Air Force pilot.” The words felt foreign coming off her tongue, she’d spent years avoiding talks about the war after what happened to her father.

He nodded. “I am, but I don’ have much to say. I’ve been in the Air Force since I finished secondary school. I fly Spitfires, ‘n I’m originally from Scotland. I have a few months off before I ship out again ‘n then who knows what will happen. ‘S nice bein’ home ‘fore a bit.”

Scotland. That explained his accent, one she wasn’t used to hearing all that often. She took another long swig of beer while he was talking. His flushed cheeks and slightly red nose made it clear he was a bit tipsy, but she wouldn’t have guessed it if she wasn’t the one who’d been serving him drinks all night. He kept himself awfully composed.

“So is that where you’re parents live, then? Scotland?” She asked and he nodded.

“I’ve lived ‘ere fore most of my life, but my grandparents weren’t doin’ so well and my parents moved back a’few years ago,” he explained. “But I stayed, I got my own little place ‘ere about twenty minutes down tha’ road.”

“Do you still have a lot of friends here?”

“A few, ‘n sometimes we meet up,” he thought for a moment. “But a lot of them went off to war, ‘n some of them ‘ave settled down, so we don’ see each other as often,” he answered, looking a bit forlorn.

Y/N wondered how old he was, but she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and what he had said about his friends confirmed that. He was a handsome man, and she briefly wondered why he wasn’t married and settled down with children.

The more they talked, the less and less she felt like he was a stranger. Collins was easy to talk to. The bartender announced last call after about an hour of them talking, which seemed like a good cue for her to get going. It was awfully late, and she had to be up to go to church with her mother in the morning.

“I had better head home,” Y/N stood up and Jack’s face fell, as he rose too.

“May I walk you?” he asked, and she didn’t want to refuse him.

She nodded. “Of course.”

They made their way outside, Collins opening to door for her so she could exit first. She hopped down the steps easily, and he followed until he lost his footing on the bottom step.

“Woah,” Y/N held out her arms as he gripped her shoulder to keep him from toppling over. She let out a laugh. “Looks like someone’s been overserved.” she teased.

“Thas’ not fair!” he exclaimed. “‘S uneven,” he argued, turning around to gesture towards the step. It was a little worn from all the bar’s patrons walking on it to get inside, but it still amused her.

Y/N let out a little giggle, her first bout of unforced laughter of the evening, surprising herself.

“What was tha?” he bumped her playfully. “First time I heard ye laugh all night.”

“Nuh uh,” she responded. “You heard wrong, I wasn’t laughing.”

“Thought ye didn’ know how.” He chuckled, and she realized that at some point during their altercation he’d slung an arm over her shoulders, “An ye can’t get angry wit me for drinkin’ too much, I couldn’t ‘ave asked ye here without a couple pints first.” As her eyes adjusted in the moonlight, she watched his face grow a bit flushed, his voice cracking slightly.

She didn’t even know how to respond to Collins’ comment, something clearly admitted after plenty of truth serum, but far too flattering than she was deserving of. It was confusing.

The bar wasn’t far from her home, and once she was a few blocks away from her house she stopped him. Y/N didn’t really want her mother to see Collins and ask any questions.

“I’m right around the corner,” she said, pausing and pulling away to face him. She hadn’t wanted to move out from under his arm. “Thanks for the drink,” she said.

“‘S no problem. Thanks for agreein’ to it.” He tilted his head, seemed to be thinking about something. Y/N stood there a moment, still staring at him, waiting. She wasn’t sure for what, but she wanted a few more moments with him before the night was over. “Maybe sometime, you could play piano for me properly, could yeh do that?” he asked her.

Y/N nodded, with a smile. “Yeah, if you’d like to see me again,” she said nonchalantly.

“How ‘bout Friday? 5? We can meet here.” he suggested, running his hands through his hair.

“Okay. Sounds good.”

Collins still stood across from her, and took one step closer so their chests were almost touching. “Anything else?” she asked, feeling her breath hitch slightly, her cheeks growing hot. Collins looked at with an intensity and a curiosity she’d never seen in a man’s eyes before, at least not directed at her. The look made her squirm under his gaze.

Wordlessly, he placed his hand under her chin and lifted it slightly, pressing his lips against hers in a brief kiss. She could smell beer and smoke on him, but in that moment, it was sweet and innocent. “That’s all,” he murmured before pulling away. Her lips tingled from the contact as he stepped away from her and she retreated, looking back at him once before she turned the corner.

Chapter 3

#dunkirk imagine #dunkirk fanfiction #Dunkirk Collins #Collins fanfiction #Collins imagines #Collins #collins x reader #farrier #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden imagines #jack lowden x reader #series #fanfiction #dunkirk #dunkirk alex #dunkirk cast

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roseymoseyberry · 7 years

Text

Clever Lines (one-shot)

I realized the other day that it had been three months since I last posted a fic about my otp, and that’s a crime. Also I’ve been getting the itch to write them anyway so it was just a matter of time.

But this time the old husbands are young singles meeting and flirting, because I love thinking about their little pre-war friend group plus Jazz, because if anything can make the pre-war friend group better, it’s Jazz.

I’m absolutely slipping in that Party Ambulance headcanon here, and I know we all love small and sweet Orion Pax, but I am personally even more in love with tall and lanky Orion Pax who is wildly proactive and never afraid to speak his mind, but appropriately polite as he does. I mean, come on. He went out of his way to track down and befriend gladiators. He’s a brave little archivist.

Also this is inspired by an A Softer World strip oops. The specific line has been altered to make it more conversational but you’ll know it when you see it.

Title: Clever Lines

Series: Transformers Prime with a little inspo from Aligned as a whole (aka Jazz haha)

Ship(s): Orion Pax/Ratchet with a huge smattering of Jazz&Ratchet friendship

Rating/warnings: PG-13 for alcohol, references to fighting and fragging, some intoxicated kissing, and just a lot of Ratchet worrying too much

“Oh scrap,” Ratchet hissed as he spun on his pede. He blindly reached out towards Jazz, grabbing him by the closest edge of armor he could get his digits around to pull him towards the same direction he was facing.

“The frag, Ratch--?”

“Just act casual and don’t look over there!”

Jazz huffed as he settled next to Ratchet, crossing one arm over his chest while the other brought his drink to his lips for a slow sip, before replying, “Well, that’d go better if we weren’t staring at a wall, but I guess I’ll make it work.”

Ratchet’s engine grumbled but he had to admit that this was far less conspicuous than he had hoped for. He could blame the high grade for the sheer lack of spatial awareness that brought him here, and that was true, but he was pretty sure blind panic had a big part.

“Ok, fine. We can turn towards each other.”

“But I was starting to enjoy the view,” Jazz deadpanned, as if Ratchet couldn’t read the way his visor flickered with humor. Still, he dutifully twisted and leaned his shoulder against the wall, all grace and casual confidence. Ratchet was sure he wasn’t nearly so convincing, never mind that he had never had his drinking companion’s grace, but he did his best with what he had.

Jazz had the handsome frame of a nimble dancer and the Unmaker’s smile to charm his way around the city. Ratchet, on the other hand, had neither, and had instead learned to utilize the bulk of his frame and the boldness of his personality to make his way through crowds and into mecha’s sparks when he cared to.

They had both made their individual marks on the party scene before they had finally crossed paths all those years ago. The night that the Party Ambulance and the famously infamous Jazz met was the night they got completely sloshed and argued, danced, brawled, and fragged each other well into the next morning. When they woke up sprawled across a berth neither of them recognized, they both came to the conclusion that they were best friends.

The fact that Ratchet’s partying nights were fewer and further between now, not to mention far from the wildness of those years, hadn’t kept him and Jazz from being inseparable when Ratchet wasn’t waist-deep in finishing medical school. Ratchet was beginning to suspect that Jazz was using him as an excuse to pull himself back a bit as well, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Jazz was an incredible friend.

And that was why he gave Ratchet the dignity of not immediately looking out into the crowd to try to find the mech who had Ratchet in a tizzy and no doubt giving them away. Instead Jazz held Ratchet’s gaze and asked, “So, who walked in that you’re so desperate to avoid?”

Ratchet grimaced and took a large gulp of his high grade.

“Have I ever mentioned that one archivist?”

“The snarky one you nearly started a physical fight with when he said he couldn’t find that article you needed because they were closing in ten minutes?” Jazz replied with ease, because of course, the mech was like a sponge for any information he thought might be important or embarrassing later.

“No, not him--”

“Then the cute one who volunteered to help you find the article anyway and then spent the rest of the night at some café with you so you could use his access to the digital archives and finish your papers on time?”

Ratchet felt embarrassed heat spread up his neck and into his face. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, but having three papers due the same day had left him with little dignity and endless gratitude towards that archivist. He still wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that the archivist had also been unfairly attractive and that they had actually gotten along well enough that the last couple hours at the café had actually just been chatting, admittedly a little deliriously on Ratchet’s half.

At the very least it made it more embarrassing.

“That’s the one.”

Jazz’s visor brightened with interest as his mouth started to curl around the lip of his cube, clearly enjoying Ratchet’s flustered expression more than his drink.

“Orion Pax, right?”

“Of course you’d remember,” Ratchet grumbled, receiving a snicker in response.

“Never forget a name or a face. Speaking of--”

“Don’t look!”

“Relax. I can be subtle,” Jazz reassured, lifting his drink to his mouth again so he could tap his pointer digit against the side of his visor. “Let me do a little bit of espionage to soothe your overcharged spark.”

“As if you haven’t gone drink for drink with me.” Still, after a moment, Ratchet sighed. “A helm taller than me but he’s lanky, all legs--”

“Lanky? You usually like ‘em--”

“Focus, Jazz. Yes, he’s lanky. Red and blue paintjob, and he’s got—he’s got this crest on his forehelm along with audial finials on the sides--”

“Got ‘im,” Jazz said. His helm tilted slightly. “No kidding about lanky though. Course, with that face and those legs? Can’t argue there.”

Ratchet would swear he could feel a processor ache coming on.

“What is he doing, Jazz?”

“He’s getting a drink.”

“Really?”

Jazz’s brows didn’t need to be visible for him to give a withering look.

“Do I need to remind you we’re at a bar.”

Ratchet grimaced but pushed on, “He just doesn’t seem the type. More of a ‘fun night out is a night in’ type.”

Jazz snorted, replying, “You really are going soft if a nerd like that has you wound up tighter than a turborabbit in heat. That why you flipped your lid? Worried about him finding out about the Party Ambulance that comes out when the sun sets and your papers are finished?”

Ratchet glowered at him, turning his helm to look away before realizing his folly. He was now looking out into the crowded bar and by the Allspark, there was Orion across the way. The archivist’s back was towards them though as he chatted with the bartender, and—

“Who the frag is that?”

Jazz whistled as, on top of the one gigantic mech at Orion’s side that Ratchet was talking about, yet another mech sidled up to Orion’s other side and took a drink that Orion handed to him.

“Well, I can officially say you don’t gotta worry ‘bout your little secrets, because he’s hanging with folks who’re shadier than you ever were, Ratch.”

The first mech was enormous – a little over a helm taller than Orion and far broader with heavy looking silver armor. There was at least one large healing weld across their back that Ratchet could see from the distance. The other mech was shorter, but their build was still sturdy, certainly one built to withstand a fight. And when they turned their helm, their face was completely covered with a visor.

A visor that Ratchet would swear glinted, as if they had met optics.

Ratchet immediately looked away, turning to Jazz to find his friend still zeroed in on Orion and his companions.

“You know them?”

Jazz’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Like I said, I never forget a name or a face,” he replied. “You never did get into going to the Pits, did ya?”

Ratchet’s brows furrowed. “You mean gladiator fights? Course not. I see more than my fair share of spilt energon as it is, thank you very much. Why?”

“No reason,” Jazz lied before throwing his helm back and starting to chug his drink.

Ratchet watched him with narrowed optics before his high grade-addled processor put it together.

“No. No. There’s no way that those two are gladiators. What would Orion be doing with ruffians like that?”

With one last gulp, Jazz finished his drink and grinned at Ratchet.

“Like you’re one to talk. Now stop worrying,” Jazz insisted as he tipped the empty cube towards Ratchet, “and finish your drink.”

Ratchet’s drink was still at least half full, never mind the fact that he was beginning to suspect what Jazz had planned.

“Oh no. Don’t you dare,” Ratchet hissed, nudging Jazz’s shoulder with the servo holding his drink as he leaned in. “I have this under control without you forcing your way in as my wing-mech.”

“Gonna go back to your staring contest with the wall?” Jazz teased, his grin full of too many dentae when that was enough to have Ratchet’s face twist with flustered indignation. “Come on. Finish your drink and let me get the ball rolling.”

“I don’t need you to--!”

“If you don’t finish that drink,” Jazz warned as quicker than Ratchet could track, the cube was plucked from his digits, “then I’ll finish it for you. It’s up to you how much liquid courage you want in you once I’ve done my magic.”

Ratchet shot Jazz a look and his engine growled, but he still took the cube back and chugged it.

And then once it was empty it was in Jazz’s grasp again.

“I’ll just get us another round,” Jazz purred as he pushed off the wall. “Don’t miss me too much.”

And then he slipped into the crowd. Jazz had a nearly supernatural ability to find his way through the busiest of bars quickly, so it wasn’t long before he had found a place at the bar next to the mech with the visor. Whoever they were, they weren’t surprised to see Jazz. Or Ratchet didn’t think they were, but he couldn’t really tell because of said visor.

Orion though startled, and then—

And then he turned and looked in Ratchet’s direction.

Their gazes met and Ratchet would have sworn his spark stopped right then and there. Orion’s optics were bright and without a doubt focused on his, though he looked unsurprised to see Ratchet at least. In fact, Orion smiled, small and too sweet, and Ratchet had no idea how to react to that. Ratchet knew how to flirt with mecha like himself – mecha who drank too much and got into too many fights and wanted to just escape life for those brief hours spent on a dance floor before jumping right back in thrice as hard. If the mech even three stools over from Orion had caught his attention, it would have been easy to throw them a wink, to stroll over and drop a line.

The Party Ambulance knew how to flirt.

The medical student with a crush on an archivist he had once shared energon with while talking about archival organizational systems and favorite cities and plans for the next couple of years?

He had no fragging idea.

Before Ratchet could think about it, his servo lifted and gave a small wave.

A wave.

Jazz would never let him live that down.

Before Orion had an opportunity to react to that, the large grey mech beside him grabbed his attention, leaving Ratchet to just awkwardly stand by the wall while he watched the scene across the way. Something was being placed in Orion’s servos and Jazz leaned past the visored mech to say something to him.

Primus. Ratchet was regretting not being more forceful about keeping his drink because at least it would have given him something to do. Instead all he could do was fight the urge to squirm, wondering if it wouldn’t just be better to go over and face the embarrassment he had made of himself face-on.

But then Orion was turning, glancing up at the grey mech for one last exchange, and then he was making his way through the crowd.

Towards Ratchet.

Ratchet could only stand there in a mixture of trepidation and idiotic hope as he watched Orion’s progress. It certainly took him longer than it had Jazz who now seemed more than happy to lounge against the bar to chat with Orion’s companions, though his visor was no doubt hiding a gaze that was squarely on Ratchet.

And then there Orion was.

His smile was still small but sincere and each of his servos held a cube of high grade.

“Hello, Ratchet,” Orion greeted as he stepped closer, the volume of his voice just loud enough to be heard over the mild din of the bar. Still though, it didn’t sound strained or at all tinged by any of the awkwardness that Ratchet felt consumed by. Orion lifted one of the cubes in invitation. “Your friend told me you were in need of a drink.”

That slagger.

Ratchet grasped that kernel of irritation and held on tight to pull himself out of his fluster.

“Better not have let him convince you to buy it. Jazz is damned good at getting other mecha to pay for his drinks,” Ratchet replied as he took the cube. Somehow though that just made Orion’s lips curl more which in turn made Ratchet’s spark flutter.

“I’ll admit that I didn’t take much convincing.”

“Too easy,” Ratchet teased as he took a sip. It was a sweeter mix than he was used to – delicious for certain but lighter on engex content than Ratchet would let himself spend shanix on. “It’s good.” After a beat Ratchet quickly added, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Ratchet couldn’t hold Orion’s gaze for long, not when he had no idea what Jazz had told him or what to even do with himself. Ratchet was caught between acting friendly like he had when they had met and acting flirty like he would with any other mech he was attracted to, not sure which was the better option with a mech like Orion. So somehow Ratchet ended up just blurting out, “So, you come here often?”

If Jazz wasn’t quick about it, Ratchet was going to kill himself over that cliché line before Jazz ever got the chance.

Orion’s expression wavered, slightly frowning, and this one was definitely a record for how quickly Ratchet had fragged up—

“No, I must admit that I actually came specifically to see you.”

Ratchet’s optics widened as they snapped up to Orion’s face and he reset his audials.

“What?”

Orion was now the one to glance away, looking a bit abashed. “It was pure chance that I was in the medical section that day since I don’t work on the public side of the archives often so I was unsure that we would ever happen to cross paths again, and one of my friends has a particular talent for finding mecha so I—I asked him for a favor.”

Ratchet couldn’t help looking over at the two gladiators – how had this darling archivist found himself friends with mecha like that? – before returning to Orion, who was now looking down at him, concerned optics searching him for a reaction.

And that’s when it had really set in. Orion had wanted to see him again, and instead of simply hoping to cross paths, Orion had someone find Ratchet so they could make sure they met again. And on top of that, he was worried that Ratchet would react badly to that fact. However, Ratchet couldn’t help being impressed and, quite frankly, flattered. His sparkrate picked up and his face heated and oh was that glimmer of hope getting brighter.

“Well,” Ratchet said, tipping his cube towards Orion with an embarrassed chuckle, “you managed to find me despite my best efforts.”

“Did you not want to be found?” Optimus asked, concerned still, and it was cute. It could have been the high grade talking, but Ratchet was certain that the archivist couldn’t have looked any more adorable than with his brows knitted and his optics wide.

“More that I didn’t want to be found here,” Ratchet admitted with a shrug, pausing to take a gulp of his drink for strength. “Easier to keep up a more flattering image of myself at the archives than here.”

Optimus’s helm tilted slightly, but something like amusement flickered in his brilliant blue optics.

“And what image have I found here then?”

“Med student by day, party ambulance by night, and all around pain in the aft,” Ratchet recited, as he had a million times before at thousands of parties.

Orion’s chuckle, warm and barely audible over the noise of the bar, was by far the greatest reaction he had ever gotten, and Ratchet’s spark swelled.

“Is that what you think I see?” he asked, tone full of humor.

“If not yet, then give me a couple more drinks to prove my point,” Ratchet insisted, his lips curling at the corners as he felt himself relax. The almost familiar ease he had felt with Orion before was back again.

That or the high grade he had chugged was kicking in.

“I thought Jazz was the one looking for free drinks.” Orion was teasing him and Ratchet couldn’t help laughing aloud now.

“No, no! I didn’t mean—I can pay for my own drinks, thank you very much.”

Orion made his way closer, shifting to the side so Ratchet wasn’t trapped between him and the wall, and Ratchet thought to himself that he really wouldn’t have minded that so much. And Primus was that a thought he shouldn’t be having at the moment.

“Then I really don’t see what you have to worry about. I’ve yet to see any supposed ‘party ambulance’ or ‘pain in the aft’.”

Ratchet rolled his optics before replying, “Need I remind you that I was the deranged medical student who had you up until sunrise because I had papers to finish.”

“And I had a lovely time,” Orion replied easily.

“I also nearly punched out your coworker.”

“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last,” Orion insisted, shrugging ever so slightly in the face of Ratchet’s surprise. “He’s not a particularly likeable mech.”

“And you think I am?” Ratchet asked with a snort.

Orion immediately, without a second thought, nodded and said, “I do.”

Ratchet nearly choked on his high grade, wincing as he forced it down his intake correctly and tried to ignore how his whole frame burned.

“Well, that’s very flattering of you.”

A moment passed, and then another, and Ratchet was too flustered to think of anything to say, instead just focusing on his drink and trying desperately to come up with something—

“Ratchet?”

Ratchet’s optics flicked up to Orion’s face. The archivist was staring down at him, optics bright, focused. And he was leaning closer – not too close, nothing invasive but feeling all the more intimate for it.

“You should know that I wanted to find you because I think you’re beautiful and I would like to kiss you,” Orion said, quieter now that they were close, quieter but in that deep voice of his, and Ratchet’s spark pulsed hard at the blatant confession. He opened his mouth, feeling as if that deserved something in response, but Ratchet was wordless. Orion continued, “I know that usually mecha use more, ah, clever lines than that in situations like this, but none of the ones I found seemed to be about you or me. So if you would prefer, I can come up with something, but I wanted to say that first.”

It took rebooting his voicebox twice before Ratchet could stammer out, “No, that—that won’t be necessary, that was – that was good. I mean--” Ratchet grimaced, his face feeling as if it was melting off because this was ridiculous, he was making a complete glitch of himself.

But Orion didn’t stop smiling. If anything, he looked rather charmed.

“I hadn’t realized you were so shy,” Orion commented, teased really, and that was enough to finally snap Ratchet out of his reverie with a startled laugh.

“I’ve been accused to be many a terrible thing, Orion, but shy isn’t one of them,” Ratchet said as he waved his servo in dismissal of the idea.

“You could have fooled me,” Orion insisted, unmoved but clearly amused.

“Well, that’s--!” Ratchet paused, floundering for a moment as his chuckles trailed off, until finally he continued, “It’s a very recent development, I assure you.”

Orion’s optics cycled with interest.

“Oh? How recent?”

“Well,” Ratchet drawled, enchanted by the way Orion looked at him, as if he was somehow equally enchanted by the mess of a mech before him, “how long ago was that night at the café?”

That finally caught the archivist by surprise. Orion’s expression froze and his optics were nearly blindingly bright.

“Ratchet?”

“Yes?”

Orion’s digits were gentle under Ratchet’s chin as he leaned down closer.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Orion leaned down further, closing the distance as his free servo found a place on Ratchet’s waist, and Ratchet eagerly reached up to pull him in faster.

Until the splash of his forgotten drink across his digits and down Orion’s back startled him and Ratchet could feel humiliation shoot across his lines lightning fast as he yanked his servo back and tried to pull away.

“Frag, I’m sorry --!”

”It’s alright,” Orion laughed, keeping Ratchet close as he plucked the now empty cube from Ratchet’s servo and placed it on a table next to them where his own drink was. Ratchet couldn’t remember when the archivist had abandoned the drink, couldn’t really think past the embarrassment that he had just dumped a drink on Orion, and now of all times--!

And then Orion was pulling him back in and kissing him.

Orion’s lips were sweet with lingering high grade and impossibly soft, and Ratchet quickly lost himself in the feeling of them as he clung to the archivist, kissing back with fervor. Warm servos cupping his cheek and pressing against his lower back, a clever glossa meeting his own eagerly, and the gentle rumbling of Orion’s engine when Ratchet nipped and sucked on his upper lip – it all left Ratchet feeling heady with affection and lust.

Ratchet couldn’t help a muffled groan as Orion retaliated by capturing his bottom lip between his dentae.

“Orion?”

The archivist hummed in question as he kissed the corner of Ratchet’s lips, giving him room to speak, and Ratchet’s spark throbbed.

“You can’t let me go home with you,” Ratchet insisted, aware that the effect was ruined by how breathless he sounded and how his digits pulled at Orion, “no matter what I say later.”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” Orion commented, voice full of amusement and somehow deeper than before. Ratchet shuddered slightly and moved his helm so their mouths brushed again, stealing a quick, wet kiss.

“That’s just how things usually go when I’m overcharged and kissing someone at a bar,” Ratchet said as he nuzzled his way under Orion’s chin to drag his glossa up a prominent fuel line before sucking on it. Orion’s engine gave a subtle rev at that and his servo behind Ratchet’s helm stroked encouragingly. “But I like you too much to ruin this with a one-night stand.”

Orion moved then, swooping down to kiss his way into Ratchet’s mouth, long and deeply enough that by the time he pulled away, Ratchet panted against his lips since his overworked cooling fans found little relief in the crowded bar.

“You can’t ruin this.”

Ratchet snorted and replied, “Is that a challenge?”

“More like reassurance,” Orion replied as he trailed his soft, damp lips along Ratchet’s check towards his audials. “Though I can promise you we won’t interface tonight.”

Orion’s mouth was hot around Ratchet’s audial finial and he gasped aloud as his frame arched up against Orion’s.

“You sure? At the rate you’re going, I could be convinced.”

“Which is why we won’t.” Orion drew back until their gazes met, his expression serious as he said, “Not while you’re overcharged.”

And that—

That was new.

Ratchet’s spark ached with emotion strong enough that he dared not name it.

“That’s very considerate of you,” Ratchet managed, aware of how ridiculous that sounded when they were entangled together, spilt high grade growing sticky on Orion’s back and Ratchet’s lips nearly feeling bruised from their fevered kissing. “And that only makes me like you more, so now that we’re agreed about what we won’t do tonight, can we return to what we are doing?”

The serious expression eased into a warm smile as Orion leaned in, but only enough to press their forehelms together. “At this rate, we’ll never get back to our friends.”

“Frag ‘em. This is what they wanted anyway, isn’t it?”

“A fair point, Ratchet.” Orion pressed a slow kiss to Ratchet’s lips. “But we’ll have to face their gloating eventually.”

Ratchet frowned and somehow that just earned him another, albeit chaste, kiss.

“Fine. But you owe me at least one more session like this before the end of the night,” Ratchet demanded, finally removing one of his servos from Orion’s frame to point at him, “and your commlink.”

Orion huffed a soft laugh as he nodded.

“Perhaps even plans for an actual date?”

Ratchet rolled his optics as he stepped back, though he reached to grab Orion by the wrist.

“Obviously. Now come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll find where those slaggers got off to. Your big frag-off friend can’t be hard to find in here.”

“Of course.”

Orion’s whole face was lit up with tenderness and quiet joy, and Ratchet swore his processor hiccupped.

Ratchet had been so wrong before, because this. This mech, this face, looking at him with such adoration, was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

“By the Allspark,” Ratchet murmured. “You really do think I’m likeable.”

And Orion laughed, bright and rumbling.

“Exceedingly so, Ratchet.”

Within seconds, Ratchet had Orion back against the wall and was savoring the sensation of laughter against his lips.

Jazz could wait another five minutes before getting Ratchet’s begrudging gratitude.

#fanfiction #tfp #I hope to write more with Jazz in the future because boy is he a fun character #also characterization is hard when you're writing them young and pre-war and also a little drunk

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avaquet · 7 years

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Taking Care of Biological Issues

This is one of seven fics I have planned for JaalWeek! @magicrobins sorry I was a bit late to the first day :/

This first chapter is dealing with biological issues. A mating season in angara and dealing with menstruation in humans. Sara helps out with Jaal during his time with the helpful guidance of Sahuna. Jaal helps out Sara when she doubles over in pain. This chapter is kind of a mix of angara headcanons and a slight introduction into my OC Sara. ~No smut in this chapter~ There is a shift in timeline below the line, That’s where Jaal takes care of Sara.

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11605995

Shuffling. Twisting and turning. Grunts and a final movement wakes me up. I open my eyes to a dimly lit room. Jaal is sitting up and panting, back turned to me. I notice the spot he was laying down in was slightly damp. Fever? Is he sick? I reach out to touch him and he flinches. He is warm, and sweaty. "Jaal? Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Uh, yes. This is... normal." He leans over and puts his elbows on his legs, head in hands. I could hear a hard swallow when he spoke, and now he is making pained grunts.

I sit up a little. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No. Not a nightmare. Ugh... I just... need some air." He stands up and heads quickly towards my door.

"Please, if you need anything, I am here."

"I know, Darling One. I appreciate it. I will be fine." He leaves the room and lets the door whoosh shut behind him.

"SAM? Is he sick? Should I alert Lexi?" I sit up all the way, rubbing my head.

"I detected an increase in body temperature, but no illness. I also detected an increase in hormones, rapid breathing and heart rate, sweating, and agitation." SAM chimes in over our private channel.

"What does this mean?"

"I do not know for certain. This is the first instance of this that I have encountered."

"What time is it?"

"0447."

"Thank you. I guess I should officially get up." SAM slowly increases the brightness of the room to help my eyes adjust. "It is a bit weird not waking up next to him like normal. Any theories?"

"His body seems to simulate going through a biological or primitive need to reproduce found in some sentient species. Even Milky Way."

"Like a mating season?"

"Precisely. Though I do not have enough data to say that is what it is."

"Oh." I stand up and change into my sweatpants, tank and grey and black hoodie, and shoes. "I will talk to Sahuna after breakfast. Or at least send an email. Especially if this continues." I am not sure how to process this. Of course, if it is a mating season, it's obviously not under his control. We haven't had sex yet, both together and before. I am not sure if I am ready for this. Maybe that's why he needs some space? Does he not trust himself around me? I don't want him to feel guilty. I head over to my desk to get a brush and my hair tie. Some shiny brown hairs that were loose, fall to my shoulders, more than normal. Stress. I should really talk to Lexi about this. I put my hair up in a medium ponytail, keeping it loose around my scalp and a swoop over my right eye. I recently cut my hair back up to just above my shoulders, keeping the part to the left, and feathering the sides. I remember coming out of the bathroom and walking by Jaal who took notice immediately. It surprised me, it was about a two inch trim, and usually no one notices. Maybe it's because it was down? In any case, he spent the first half hour playing with it before bed. Using his bioelectricity to make strands stand up, and attempting to braid but getting slightly frustrated because his fingers were a bit big and the low static he was emitting didn't help his cause. The memory made me giggle.

It is close to 0500. Breakfast is in about fifteen minutes. Jaal hasn't come back, yet. I start biting at my lip, tearing off the dead skin with my teeth, an old nervous/anxious habit I have yet to break. Afterwards, putting on lip butter/balm to at least try to help. I couldn't help myself. I go to my terminal and sit down, I open a new email draft and start typing to Sahuna.

Can I talk to you? A private vid-call? It's about Jaal, and I might be overreacting but when he woke up, he was acting strange. We are about to have breakfast, so could it be afterwards?

I hit send. I wait about five minutes eagerly waiting for a reply. Maybe she is busy, or asleep. I don't know what time it is on Havarl right now. I hear a ping on my omni-tool. I get excited but to my disappointment, it's just the crew board and Drack telling us that breakfast is ready. I take a deep breath and head out towards the mess hall.

"Hmph. You're early, Kid." Drack glances over at me. "Jaal ain't with you this time?"

I walk into the empty room and sit in my usual spot on the booth. "Nope. I guess he had a rough night and needed some air."

"With everything he's been through and seen, doesn't surprise me." He finishes up making a bowl of... something.

"Yeah... maybe. He said it wasn't a nightmare."

"Doesn't have to be a nightmare for something to bother you in the night, Kid."

"Don't worry, I know. What're you making?"

"Oatmeal. Using what's left of Milky Way dried fruits. Special bowl for Vetra, and then Jaal's paste on that plate."

"Ah. Thanks."

A ping interrupts us. I check my omni-tool. It's a reply from Sahuna;

Yes. Please talk to me after breakfast. Tell me everything.

I breathe a slight sigh of relief. Drack starts decorating the table with food where people would normally sit. He places a bowl in front of me and the plate of paste to my left. He finally takes a seat on the other end of the corner booth with his food. Roots from Elaaden, I believe. He starts to chew on them as he cleans his gun. People start walking in and either taking food and going back somewhere or taking a seat. Gil, Kallo, Suvi, Lexi, and Cora decide to eat elsewhere. Vetra sits next to Drack, Liam on the right side of me, Peebee is across in a chair, and finally Jaal shows up. He looks a bit better but still a little off. He quickly takes the place next to me.

Conversations are going across the room, but I sound them out. "Jaal, are you doing better?" I look up at him. He usually holds my hand while we eat, this time he is just making a fist under the table.

"I was fine before. This is normal, Sara." His tone of voice is a bit agitated.

"Are you mad at me? Did I do something?" I feel a slight lump in my throat.

"No. Not mad. I'll be fine. This will go away."

"Okay, promise me if it's something, that you will see Lexi?"

"I always do."

I go back to eating when I feel his hand go for mine. I give him my hand and I notice he is holding it a bit tighter than normal. I rub my thumb across the back of his hand, still unsure what is going on. I finish up and sit back.

"Hey, Sara." I look at Peebee. "What's next?"

"We are going to Elaaden to check in with the krogan colony."

"Oh sweet! Will we get to see inside that crashed remnant ship?"

"Maybe." I shrug. That's when Jaal lets go of my hand and goes to my thigh. A slightly tight grip. This catches my attention. The move was almost possessive. I look up at him with concern and realized he has finished his food quickly. When he notices me, he lets go of my thigh and shies away, almost a guilty or embarrassed look on his face. I can tell other people in the room notice something is going on, but they continue with their conversations. Jaal silently gets up and places his plate in the sink then walks out. I soon follow, eyes in the room follow me until the door closes.

I lose track of him when I leave the mess hall. I sigh. I go into my room and open up comms with Sahuna on my terminal.

"Sahuna? Can you hear me?"

"Yes. What's going on, Sara?"

"Jaal is acting strange. He claims he isn't sick, but has a fever. He woke up sweating and panting. He seems to be distant of me, both physically and verbally. He is speaking quicker and harsher. When we were eating breakfast, he held my hand tighter than normal and suddenly went to my thigh, tight grip. When he saw that I noticed, he quickly looked away and let go. He also ate a lot faster and is really quiet. Did I do something wrong? Is he mad at me?"

"Hmm. No, I do not believe that he is. Lathoul!" Sahuna turns from the camera. "When was Jaal's last-" A word in Shelesh that I don't understand.

I hear Lathoul respond in the background. "Uh, a couple years ago I believe."

Sahuna turns back to the camera to face me. A grin across her face. "Let me email Jaal real quick to make sure this is it."

"What is happening?" I ask.

"This happens to every angara. And every angara is different and on a different schedule. Like a mating season. Jaal is still young and this is probably just as intense as it was his first time."

"Oh, I am still a little confused."

"Do humans have a mating season?"

"Eh, no, not really. The closest we have is that most females can get easily turned on during or around their menstrual cycle. But it's not exactly a hard instinct."

"How often is this cycle?"

"Once a month. Usually ties in with the moon's cycle. Well, Earth's moon. Three to seven days. And it is not fun."

"Hmm, I want to know more. But first, Jaal is just in his season. Once every one to four years for about two to fourteen days that year, an angara will have a physical desire to reproduce."

"Mating season?"

"Yes. Jaal gets his every two years for about four days. It's an intense desire. It will wear out the more he goes through it. Usually the shorter the season, the more frequent it happens."

"So, why is he avoiding me?"

"Have you two had sex yet?"

I open my eyes a bit wider. That question came a bit as a shock. "Uh, no."

Sahuna chuckles, "Dear, I am not embarrassed. Ah! He messaged back." Sahuna takes a minute to read. "Yes. He is in his season. I know why he is avoiding you, too. He wants it to be sober."

"Sober?"

"I am not sure how humans view sex, but angara, as you know, are quite emotional. Sex is extremely intimate, not the most intimate. There's levels to one's self. Sexual, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual self. The desire Jaal is feeling now is only on two levels, sexual and physical. He wants to feel it on all levels."

"So being sober is just, normal self?"

"Yes. He's never had sex before. But that doesn't matter as much as the first time that you two share. The first time is usually extremely emotional, slow, and vulnerable on both sides. It is sharing a moment between you both and the stars. Of course not all sex is like this, but the first time should not be based on a primitive desire."

"I am surprised you're not saying a primitive need."

"Because sex isn't exactly a need. Love and affection is. Intimacy can be a need. Sex is not. One can survive without having sex, and there's many other intimate acts one can do in place. Love doesn't have to be intimate, it can be platonic or familial. Love is the need."

"Is there anything I can do for Jaal?"

"I will send Lexi a common medicine to help with the fever and panting, maybe she already has it. Paripo juice helps with fevers as well."

"We don't have that."

"Oh, well, cold water can do just fine. He also likes dried, toasted quilloa seeds. I used to give him this when he was younger to help out."

"Okay, and it lasts for four days?"

"Can be cut in half with constant sex. But as I've said before, he'd rather be sober right now. Hmm, the fact his subconscious knows that he has a partner might make his desires more intense."

"Oh... I do want him to feel better, Sahuna. I don't want him to feel like he has to restrict himself from me."

"He was probably worried about how you would have seen him. Usually, since the seasons don't match up with the other partner, after the season is over, that person usually takes care of the other not in season. It can be tiresome and sore. And if at any moment, there is a change in emotion or if one feels like they can't continue, the one in season is expected to stop immediately. There is usually a lot of aftercare for putting up with the seasonal nonsense. Just saying for later purposes."

"Alright, got it. I appreciate it, Sahuna. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Jaal is flattered you came to me."

"You told him I was talking to you?"

"Of course! He deserves to know that you are a caring person!"

I smile at that and giggle. "Aw. Thanks. So, toasted quilloa seeds, cold water, medicine?"

"Yes. You got it!"

"I will get right on that, thank you again!"

"Oh wait, Sara! May I learn more about this cycle you humans have?"

"Well, sure. But, mine is a bit different." I feel a bit nervous. I don't know how she is going to take this.

"How so?"

"Well, humans aren't naturally biotics. I had element zero exposure while I was in the womb, and that caused... complications."

"Oh no. What happened?"

"The eezo kind of halted any growth of eggs. I was kind of born infertile."

Sahuna gives a look of pure shock. "Oh Stars. You have my deepest sympathies."

"Thanks, but I am at peace with it. I always knew adoption was an option and I had a friend that was orphaned growing up. The day she got adopted and had to switch schools, I saw the happiest face. There are millions of orphans across the different species back in the Milky Way. And I knew if I ever had a family, that I would adopt to give a child hope and love, like they deserve. This was before I found out I was infertile. Before my first cycle."

"You would be a wonderful mother if you do decide to adopt. How did you find out that you were infertile?"

"My first cycle. And thanks. That was, not fun. I have this thing they like to call 'Ghost Eggs' where my body and brain haven't registered that I don't have eggs. So, my body tries to push something out that isn't there. I have to take medicine for it because it is extremely painful. Sometimes it feels like an organ ruptured."

"Oh Stars, you poor thing."

"It only lasts two to three days though. Low blood flow, very low, since it's only the uteral lining shedding."

"Blood flow? There's blood?"

"I forgot other species don't exactly have the same type of cycle has humans do, whoops." I chuckle. "Yes, there is blood. It can be constant."

"How long does this last? A full lifetime?"

"Starts usually from ages nine to sixteen, ends around seventy. Which is a recent change. Evolution is catching up with our longer lifespan and more females are being born with more eggs."

"That's a relief. At least it goes away."

"What about mating seasons?"

"It lasts a lifetime."

"Oh woah. Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, speaking of which. I will check with Lexi and get the stuff for Jaal. Thank you again for talking to me."

"Thank you for your concern and talking with me! Stay strong and clear, Sara."

The link goes dead. I lay back in my chair and let out a long sigh. I finally decide to stand up and go to the mess hall, which is now cleared of people. The dried quilloa seeds are up in the cabinet and there's cold water in the fridge. I cut up the seeds to bite sizes and start to toast them. I go into the medbay while things are going to talk to Lexi, which she had a substitute for the recommended medicine, she gave it to me and I went back. Put the seeds on a plate, got out a cold water, and a pill ready.

"SAM, where's Jaal?"

"He is in the tech lab."

"Thanks, SAM."

I carefully travel up the ladder and head to the room, knocking on the door. "Jaal? I brought you something."

There's a moment of silence before the door opens. A hopeful grin across his face as he looks at what I brought.

"Your mom said it would help."

"Thank you, Darling." His hands reach out carefully towards the food and water. "This smells wonderful." The smile across his face lights up the room.

"Anything for you, Jaal. I hope you like it."

He takes a bite of the seed. "A bit hard, but I do like it. I do not think I can come up with the words to tell you how appreciative I am of this."

"I appreciate you, and your decision. I really do, and I respect it. I was worried when I heard it was a mating season, well, I don't know if worried is the right word, but I knew I wasn't ready for it. I trust you, though. And damn, I was so worried about you. Hey, tell me next time something like this happens okay? I am not going to judge you."

"I promise I will, Sara. My Darling One. Thank you for understanding."

I wake up. Curled inward. A severe pain takes a hold in my lower abdomen. I grunt out, pant and moan. The Initiative never gave me the procreation blockers because of my medical file. They knew I was infertile. So, my cycle continues. I have run out of the medication, too, damn it.

Jaal rolls over. "Dearest? Are you alright?"

I grit my teeth. "Pain... No more meds... so much... pain."

Jaal shoots up, telling SAM to brighten the lights so he can see. He pulls the covers back to find me in a ball. He moves the hair from my face and rubs my arms. "Sara, what's wrong? Should I take you to Lexi?"

"No... This is, ah, normal for me." I tighten my ball. "It's a really bad cramp is all."

"Where?"

"Lower belly... why?"

"Can I try something?"

"Yes, please... ah! Anything!"

"Alright, I will need you to straighten out a bit and give me access."

I do as he says, it is hard not to return. I feel sweat beads form around my face, breathing is a bit hard. He lifts my shirt a little bit and places his hands on my lower abdomen. They are warm. Then I feel tiny nips of electricity, and they slowly get more intense, but not painful. In fact, the pain is going away. It's like he's relaxing the muscle and tricking the nerves. I focus on breathing now that it's not as painful. I relax a bit more.

"Is it working?"

"Yes, Jaal. Yes! Yes it is!" I almost feel like laughing out of relief. "Oh, thank you so fucking much, you have no idea how much that helps."

"Now I do know, and I will do it again if the pain returns. What happened, do you know?"

I lay out flat as he sits up straight. There's a slight numbness and tingle to my belly now that he's stopped but it's so much better. "Menstrual cycle, but ghost egg version. Well, it doesn't have to be ghost eggs to be this painful but, yeah. The cycle is once a month and lasts two to three days for me."

"Oh. Is there anything I can do to help more?"

"Heating pads do wonders, I have one under the bed I think." I go to reach for it but Jaal stops me.

"Let me." He gets up and grabs it. "Is this it?"

"Yes, it can help with any lingering pain and the pain in general. Thank you."

"Anything for you, Darling."

"When we get back to the Nexus, Lexi will be able to pick up more medicine for me. That usually helps, doesn't get rid of the pain entirely, but helps."

"And now we know my bioelectricity works with it."

"Does more than just work, Jaal. It numbs the pain. I might be able to actually sleep for once."

"Good." He kisses my forehead. "If it happens again, let me know. I am more than willing to help."

He settles next to me, his hand laying over my stomach. "Just in case." He whispers.

"You are so sweet, Jaal. I am so lucky to be here."

"Hmm, it's like talking to a mirror."

"Huh?"

"Because I feel the same way, Dearest."

#Sara Talia Ryder #rydaal #jaalweek #jaal romance #jaal x ryder #jaal ama darav #jaal #ryder x jaal #i am used to writing fluffy stuff so this is a bit outside my comfort zone #Probably not the best fic maybe one of the worst #gotta try right?

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wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey · 7 years

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Thanks for the tag @themoonslayer!!

the last

drink: water with lemon in it

phone call: talking to my mom about how I didn’t want a second date with a guy

text message: “OMG that video is amazing!!!”

song you listened to: Not Gonna Die by Skillet

time you cried: tears threatened my eyes? reading a fic by @camsthisky. I wept like a baby? watching Scarlet Heart Ryeo Episode 16 with my mom...you know, the episode where those two people die and that one guy has to kill the other guy...

dated someone twice: nope...three first dates and everytime I was like nah

kissed someone and regretted it: haha yeah no never been kissed

been cheated on: can’t get cheated on if you never have someone to be cheated on by

lost someone special: yes

been depressed: yes

gotten drunk and thrown up: no thank heaven. I’ve gotten tipsy a few times, and one time I was maybe slightly more? it was at a wine tasting at a Ren Faire and it was outside and SUPER hot and I hadn’t eaten in a while and when I walked I felt REALLY weird like the world was not exactly stable and I ended up hanging on my bestie’s arm and giggling at everything she said

three favourite colours

purple

green

probably silver or black

in the last year have you

made new friends: yes :)

fallen out of love: nah

laughed until you cried: maybe? laughed myself silly oh yes

found out someone was talking about you: found out a coworker was getting annoyed with me but the feeling was mutual so *shrugs*

met someone who changed you: Ahn Min Hyuk :D (hey, it doesn’t say fictional characters don’t count) this man is beautiful and sweet and handsome and sarcastic and precious and hilarious

found out who your friends are: just rediscovered the fact that my friends are truly amazing

kissed someone on your facebook list: Nope

general

how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life? All of them?

do you have any pets? My family has a black lab named Smokey (middle name O’Reilly, because we are half Irish and we give our dogs middle names, because when you are really mad at them you need to whip out their full names, and three names is better than two) we raised this dog from birth and he is my brother/son/sweetheart and I love him to death and he loves me and it is a beautiful relationship and we cuddle all the time

do you want to change your name? Absolutely not! I love my first name because I was named after St. Monica who is awesome, and also I love having a name that is not as usual and doesn’t have twenty different spellings

what did you do for your last birthday? My friend took me to see Doctor Strange!

what time did you wake up? 9:15 AM

what were you doing at midnight last night? doing my end of shift work at the restaurant I work at every Friday night

name something you can’t wait for: The Last Jedi I need it NOW and I need Ben Solo reconciling with his mom NOW and I need the evolution of Reylo NOW

when was the last time you saw your mum: last Sunday, when we watched Gilmore Girls together :)

what are you listening to right now? the wind blowing the leaves in the tree outside and the ticking of my ceiling fan

have you ever talked to a person named tom? my parents’ elderly neighbor

something that is getting on your nerves: when people say: Kylo Ren is abusive to Rey (newsflash: no, they are enemies, not lovers), when people ignore Tim Drake, when people hate Jason Todd, when people ship the Batbros together like holy heck going through AO3 and seeing all the Dick/Dami fics makes me want to vomit. also please do NOT ship Bruce with his kids ugh

most visited website: “tumblr, unfortunately.” SAME. also AO3

hair colour: dark brown with reddish tints

long or short hair: an inch or two below my shoulders. It is nice for summer but I want it to grow back because I miss making my hair as elvish as possible

do you have a crush on someone? like 35 fictional guys...

what do you like about yourself? I love. I love stories, I love characters who tear my heart out, I love nature and all the little beautiful things like leaves and stars and the smell of corn, I love people, I love my friends and family and would literally die for them

piercings: Five. Two in each ear lobe and one up in the cartilege (is that the helix piercing I can’t recall). I had my naval pierced twice but it migrated out each time :(

blood type: O (+?)

nickname: Gal, ninja, years ago some coworkers called me Moni, my nephews and niece called me Merica for a while after one of them couldn’t pronounce my name :D

relationship status: Single

zodiac: Scorpio

pronouns: She

favourite tv show(s): aha aha. So many. I just started Akayona right now and love it to death

tattoos: Not yet

right or left handed: Right

surgery: never thank heavens

sport: I did bowling in middle school and high school and did Kyokushin karate in college

vacation: favorite? I used to go to Surfside Beach with my family, and on e time I went to DragonCon with my bestie. good times

pair of trainers: huh? like sneakers? I have a pair of Nike and a pair of New Balance for working out or hiking. otherwise I avoid em like the plague. barefoot or flipflops is where it’s at

more general

eating: this is too vague! um ice cream? spaghetti?

drinking: vanilla chai tea, apple cider, Mike’s Hard Lemonade?

i’m about to: go to the gym

waiting for: the Last Jedi. DC to put out their streaming service. Young Justice season 3. the casting of Nightwing, so that I know whether to keep being excited or to rage rage and punch a wall

want: patience and a little more concentration so I can finish my thesis

get married: perhaps some day. Marriage is so beautiful and the idea of loving someone like that is something I would cherish, and I would love having kids, and I also think I want to adopt? But I also want to let things happen according to God’s will and time. If He doesn’t want me to marry it shall be well

career: trying to be a novelist here

which is better?

hugs or kisses: Hugs are the bomb, but kisses are good too

lips or eyes: Eyes

shorter or taller: I like being short but I like guys who are tall. height difference for the win

older or younger: Older or same age I guess

nice arms or nice stomach: ? idk. I am maybe slightly superficial so both? :/ but yeah, hair is probably even more important

hookup or relationship: Relationship for sure

troublemaker or hesitant: is this about me or who I am attracted to?...I am confused

have you ever

kissed a stranger: Nah son

drank hard liquor: Yes, I prefer hard liquor over beer most days...when I even drink...which is like maybe once a month, and like one, maybe two drinks

lose glasses/contact lenses: I lose my glasses every day when I take them off and go shower and then I am running around my room like where the heck?!

turned someone down: Yeah...a couple guys have asked me out who I was just NOT interested in

sex on the first date: No. I think sex is a beautiful, special thing and I want to wait till I get married

Originally posted by animatedtext

had your heart broken: ...yeah

been arrested: haha no. and somehow I even got out of a ticket when I was going 20 over the speed limit in a residential area (i was cruising and not thinking and forgot the speed limit had recently changed)

cried when someone died: yes

fallen for a friend: oh yeah. twice.

do you believe in

yourself: Most days

miracles: absolutely

love at first sight: attraction at first sight, though I do think that some people have the gift of genuinely loving someone very quickly

santa claus: I did till I was like 7 or 8 and then my parents explained they left the gifts under the tree and that we had to keep the idea of Santa Claus in our hearts and that since I was in on the secret I had to be Santa Claus and a secret keeper for my little bros. It was so fun and exciting and joyous

kiss on the first date: I studiously avoid getting kissed on the first date. though it was maybe because I quickly decided I was not attracted to the guy

angels: yes. I believe in them with all my heart and am so grateful to God for them. In particular I love my own guardian angel, who has comforted and encouraged me many times, and I swear is the only reason I have not crashed my car or been in a car crash several times over

other

eye colour: Hazel

favourite movie: Lord of the Rings (all of them), Star Wars (all of them), Harry Potter (all of them) and so many it is impossible to name them all. one of my recent favorites was King Arthur The Legend of the Sword

Well this was really long so I won’t tag anybody but if you wanna fill this out please do so and tag me so I can see it!

#tag games

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anghraine · 7 years

Note

Having been wowed by your fanfic ("wandering inside this night" holds a special place in my RO heart), I'm curious: what is your writing/editing process like?

Oh, thank you!

My writing process really varies depending on what I’m doing, but I can explain it in terms of wandering inside this night.

It’s long and rambly, so you can scroll down for a very concise tl;dr version of The Process.

1. Eureka!

I pretty much always start out with 1) a vague sense of something I want to write about, and I sort of mentally fish around until I land on an idea, or 2) an idea pops into my head, or 3) some combination of both.

The last two are the most common for me—I have more ideas than I could ever write. With wandering, it was definitely that way.

I was hollering into my tags about the Cassian-Leia parallels pretty early, which … Jyn-Han is obvious, but I felt like the Cassian-Leia ones went relatively unnoticed but were probably more profound. And as spies in the ragtag ANH-era Rebellion, it’s more than possible that they’d know each other; I’d made babbling posts, but I really wanted to do something with it. So I sketched out a backstory in until the last chance is spent, but I still wanted more, and also to get into Han-Jyn at the same time, and also just—have something fun! And suddenly (I was actually at a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert, lol) the idea popped into my head of jumping to the Han/Leia meltdown of 1980 with established relationship Jyn/Cassian.

2. Percolation

This is particularly important for longer fic (or any long-form writing, really), but it helps with shorter things, too. It’s where you’re not actively working to figure out details or more ideas, much less writing, just passively letting your mind wander. It’s best if you’re actually doing something else—something that doesn’t take much attention, but enough that you can’t completely focus on your thoughts, like showering or washing dishes or something.

When something does come to mind, I scribble it down (or stick it in a doc in some form that will hopefully make sense to me later). Sometimes it’ll be scraps of dialogue, or a phrase I want to make sure gets in somewhere, or a plot-point, just anything that pops up. Ideally, though, I don’t write anything beyond that—just note down anything I might forget and let my ideas develop freely.

Normally, I’d only do so much of that with something like wandering (fairly short, fairly light). But I ended up snowed in with my extended family, where I was both bored and unable to sit down and write. So I’m sitting there entertaining myself by imagining Jyn and Han, drinking buddies, and how that’d work with the Cassian-Leia brotp of ruthless idealism (Han would be jealous!), and just having that percolating in my head while I read fic and let stray thoughts pass through my mind. (‘Okay but Cassian would fucking hate Han’ being uppermost among them, lol)

3. Brainstorming/Outline

At this point, I try to pin down the free-floating ideas and/or organize what scraps I have into something coherent. With something longer, like ad astra, I generally do a pretty traditional outline—decide what the story is specifically going to cover, and where the things I’ve actually written fit with that, and what’s going to go in the spaces between.

It’s not classroom-style brainstorming; I usually brainstorm ideas by trying to put together an outline. I’ll be “okay, I want to start with something like that shot of Jyn on the platform with an Imperial ship at the end, but it’s Bodhi” and “they get sucked into the Death Star and Jyn exploits Cassian’s injuries to get in” and then I sit down and figure out how I’m going to get from one to the other. “Okay, so—there’s no way they can actually get Kaytoo, but maybe something—yeah, she just up and grabs his dismembered head l o l, okay, and there’s the jump into the ship which rattles Cassian further, and she’d try to treat him with whatever supplies are available, and we’d have Bodhi trying to get out without being shot down, and maybe I can work in the your father would have been proud of you line, and Jyn goes to check on Bodhi and they see the Death Star and…”

Also, it helps a ton to actually talk ideas over with someone else. With me, it’s generally @steinbecks—not some strict ‘this, then this, then this, tell me what you think’, but ‘I had this idea’ and ‘OK BUT IMAGINE IF’ and ‘haha yeah exactly’ and ‘shit you’re right they do change outfits’ etc.

4) Drafting (The Big One)

Ideally, I only get to this after nailing down an outline or at least getting a lot figured out in chats/notes to myself. That’s what I did for pretty much all my most successful longfics—First Impressions (f!Darcy/m!Elizabeth), Season of Courtship (Darcy and Elizabeth’s engagement), we get dark, only to shine (AU of The Borgias that moves the canon pairing getting together from S3 to S1), and now ad astra. It helps a TON if you have trouble with discipline and direction, as I do, because you can always go back to it and figure out where you need to be headed when you’re muddled/uninspired, even if some details change along the way. (They always do, for me.)

I did some of that with wandering, but … I was snowed-in, lol, and finally everyone had gone to sleep and my head was full of ideas. So I laid down with my laptop and just dove right in with the only clear line I had in mind:

Han Solo once had apleasant conversation with Cassian Andor.

Just once.

That was where I planned it to begin! The actual beginning came later, because I very quickly ran into a problem—the sentence worked to jump into exposition, not an actual scene. And with the exposition, I needed to introduce 1) Cassian’s hatred of Han, 2) Han’s lesser but firm dislike, 3) Cassian and Leia’s history together as spies, 4) Han’s brief and half-hearted attempt to suck up, 5) Jyn and Cassian being married, 6) Han’s friendship with Jyn, 7) Han’s jealousy as contrasted to Cassian and Jyn’s mutual trust, etc. Yikes.

So I kept getting mired down in explanations and flashbacks (I actually wrote the scene where Jyn drunkenly complains about finding something for Cassian’s birthday, lol) that slowed it down. And I wasn’t really happy with anything—I constantly niggled at sentences and moved things around and rephrased and it just didn’t work right. I actually have the document I worked in (I didn’t have Internet at the time), so you can see this sort of intermediate stage:

I niggled with it for the rest of the vacation, then it hit me that the issue was that starting a fic with exposition was the real problem. Starting with ESB-era Han just being ESB-era Han could let me work the exposition section in, and without the pressure of it being the opening section I could keep it to a tangential aside and move the jealousy around and so forth. And from there I could just leap to the canon scene with bonus Cassian-Leia shared indignation, and impulsively I added Kaytoo at the end.

Moral of the story: if you keep trying to make something work and it just won’t, there’s probably something deeper going on. Take a step back and figure out why it’s not working, and often you’ll be able to correct course. Once I tacked in that little ‘Han sulks’ section at the beginning, it all fell together easily.

5) Revising!

You can probably guess from #4 that I do a lot of this as I write rather than after I write. That’s true, to an extent.

It can be a very … I wouldn’t say discouraging, but sluggish way to write, because you end up struggling over phrases you might not even keep in the end. I genuinely think it’s best to at least try to restrain the impulse to polish everything, but at the same time, there are some of us who genuinely can’t keep going if the current section isn’t working (again, see #4!). So I allow myself a certain amount of freedom in polishing-as-I-go, while restraining the impulse to do anything more substantial. The single best way of doing this is sprinting—writing in short, timed bursts with little to no editing, ideally with a partner that you check in with. (Again, I generally do this with @steinbecks.)

However, even if you edit as you go and turn out pretty clean drafts, you should still revise at the end. What I generally do is, first of all, just quickly re-read. The writing process is a lot slower than the reading one, and it’s easy to get so focused on particular passages or sections that you lose sight of how it’s working as a whole. So that quick read-through is a way to back up and see how it’s holding together. It’s best if you give yourself a break before you do this—a day or two at least, to get your mind out of the writing mode and look at it with relatively fresh eyes.

(I will say that I almost never wait. But I do pretty much always end up editing chapters yet again in the first couple of days after I’ve posted them. Sometimes it’s contuinity, sometimes a passage that isn’t working quite the way I thought, whatever. There’s always something. It’s why the chapters I post at Dreamwidth are generally cleaner than the ones at Tumblr, which are cleaner than the first versions posted at AO3.)

However you do that read-through, the most important for me is the next one. At this point, I read the whole fic/chapter/essay/whatever from start to finish—out loud. In fact, if it’s possible, I’ll do a full-on dramatic reading. By reading aloud, you can catch things like typos that your mind silently corrects for your eyes, but also it’s easier to notice sentence-level problems like repeated words/phrases and unvaried sentence structure. If something makes me cringe when I read it aloud, I cut it or rewrite. If saying it aloud makes it sound wrong for the character, it probably is wrong for the character. Sometimes I do the dramatic reading revision two or three times.

And then I either post or print!

The short version:

1) I get an idea, 2) I let the ideas develop without thinking too hard about them, 3) I nail down and think up specific ideas, mostly through chat and/or outlines, 4) I plow through a draft, rearranging/adding material if things just aren’t working, and 5) I revise, once with a quick re-read of the whole thing, and then again by slowly reading it aloud to myself to catch problems with (primarily) mechanics, voice, and word choice.

#faithfullyfalse #respuestas #nice things people say to me #fic talk #esb au #words about words #thank you for this!#in my other life i've taught writing so this was like SING THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE

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