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shipmansflannels · 6 months ago

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welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

oh, hi! well, sorry for promising I was going to post something yesterday but ending up not doing it. I was trying to take some time out of the computer and trying to organize my creativity. so, this is what I could manage to post after a day off. hope it's fine. enjoy! sorry if it's too short, it was actually based on a youtube video I saw a long time ago and I couldn't remember all the details in it. hope you enjoyed it anyway. thanks for all the support, and the rebloggs, and the likes, and the following!

enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

-> prompt: after an embarrassing situation at the mall, jackie has a jealous crisis. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, jealous!jackie, jackie being a girlfaillure, 1996 timeline, mentions of randy walsh, plot twist.

***

She had spent the entire trip back in silence.

It had become an awkward silence in the car and you couldn't help but look at her and make sure everything was okay in the passenger seat, but Jackie hadn't said a word since you left the mall and she hadn't said anything when you were driving home either.

Her parents were on a business trip, and as two teenage girlfriends who did everything in secret, you were taking advantage of those days to be together. But suddenly, everything had become a confusing mess.

Opening and closing the car door with force, Jackie grabbed the bags of clothes that were hers and set off into the house in a hurry, before you could even park the car properly in the Taylor's huge garage.

Picking up your purchases and following her into the house, you threw them on the couch and promised that you would organize it after finding out what was wrong. As you imagined, Jackie had locked herself in her room and was probably listening to loud music on that damn Walkman you had given her for her last birthday.

In fact, if you had known that it would be the cause of all your ruin, you would have thought twice when you saw him in the store window begging to be taken home.

Knocking on the door three times just to be sure, you kept your voice low, hoping she would hear you anyway, over the loud music.

"Jax, can we just talk for a minute?"

There was no response. And instead of insisting, you just pulled the handle, not at all impressed that the door wasn't locked.

"Jackie, I'm serious. What did I do? Could you please talk to me for a second and sort things out?"

She looked at you, clearly listening to you, and with a sigh, she took the Walkman from her ears and threw it back hard, those huge eyes staring into your face. Like a stubborn child, she crossed her arms and sighed again.

“I think I should be the one asking that question,” she whispered, her voice a little firmer than you were usually expecting. Generally, while you had a calmer and more relaxed posture, Jackie was always excited, always outgoing, always talking loudly, as if she was always filled with sugar all over her body.

You frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What did I do wrong, (Y\N)? What did I do wrong for you to leave me so easily, and right in front of my face, for Randy Walsh? What's different about him?”

Once again, you frowned, looking at her. "Jax, I don't get it. What the hell are you talking about?"

She huffed, returned to her normal expression and, with a roll of her eyes, leaned against the headboard. That was the signal she used for you to start a cuddle session on ordinary days, but now, you didn't know if you should join her.

So you just sat on the edge of the bed, still with your eyes fixed on her. "Is there something wrong? You can tell me, I promise I won't explode. You know I hate it when we fight, Jackie."

"You. Randy Walsh. At the video game store. Small talk. That pissed me off."

She explained, in pauses, now avoiding looking at you. Relaxing your expression, you gave an incredulous smile, but waited for her to continue, just to prove your point, and not to interrupt her in the middle of her justification.

"And what's worse, you left me waiting for hours in front of that stupid ice cream shop with my stupid raspberry cone in my hand, with my stupid shopping bags in my hand. Not hours, but…", she counted on her fingers, like if she was trying to remember. "... fifteen minutes, approximately."

You laughed again, scratching the back of your head. And she continued rambling.

"And you two were giggling, and you looked like a fool in love. I wouldn't care if it was a girl or a nice guy, I swear, but Randy Walsh! It's unacceptable, (Y\N)! How many times have you bumped into each other? through the school hallways? Once? Half a minute?”

You looked at her. "Look, love, listen… You got it all wrong."

"And I know I'm freaking out like it's a nightmare, like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life - and it really is, but whatever -. It's just… what would you expect me to do? I swear, it made me want to take your car, go home and leave you there alone, just to welcome you with a fucking sign stuck in the living room saying "welcome home, cheater"… But of course I didn't do that, I'm freaking out like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life, (Y\N), do you happen to realize what you fucking did? Randy Walsh, really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

You laughed again. "Jackie, please let me explain."

"Ah, now you want to explain? Well, go ahead. Explain yourself."

You sighed, looking at her and thinking exactly how you were going to put each thing into words, regretting it soon after, but knowing that you should move on. Looking straight into her eyes, you decided to start slowly, as you should.

"Do you remember the last day we went shopping? The day we spent at the new game store that opened on floor three and you saw that Nintendo 64 and your eyes lit up? So…", you bit your lip, nervously. "That day when you saw me talking to Randy for the first time, after coming back from practice, I was just trying to see if I could buy one cheaper, since he works at the game store in the other mall and I didn't have money specifically for the Nintendo from that store… And he promised me that he would try to ask his boss for an order, and that he would give me answers later…"

She widened her eyes, following you speaking as if it were the most important thing in the world, and from her reactions, you realized that you had made a mistake, and you realized that she also knew that she had made a mistake in judging you so early.

"Today, we were just passing by the aisle at Randy's game store, so I thought I would try to see if he had gotten the Nintendo yet… He told me yes, that it was on order and should arrive in a few days. And that made me extremely happy, Jackie, because… because it was my gift to you and because it was… well, it was your surprise birthday present."

With another bite on your lip, you laughed softly as you avoided looking at your girlfriend, who had her eyes even wider and her mouth open.

"That-? What-? How-? Oh, my God, babe… I…"

You nodded, laughing again.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I got it wrong and screwed up-"

"No, it's okay, I also overreacted, I should have told you… not told you, but at least given signs."

Jackie pouted regretfully and opened her arms. You fit into them well and breathed in her strawberry scent while ruffling those still wet hair. She whimpered a few times and hid her face in your neck, embarrassed. Her cheeks were too red, almost rosy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise," she whispered. "It's just that seeing you and Randy together, I thought-"

"It's okay, Jax, I said it's okay. It was half my fault anyway…"

You shrugged and lifted her face to kiss her slowly. It started with a peck and then turned into a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer. When you pulled away from her, you whispered, touching the white blouse with butterflies sewn on the chest, looking down.

"Listen, I told you that I want to be clear about my feelings, and that I want to make us work, so… if I were cheating on you, which obviously I'm not, I would probably tell you. There's no reason I hide this from you, Jackie. Not even out of shame." You touched her lips with your fingers. "I love you. I wouldn't trade you for anything in this world. I swear to all that is sacred. You are the most incredible girl I have ever met and you are the woman of my life, I have never been so sure of that as I am now. "

She sighed and smiled, making another pout that you couldn't resist kissing, laughing softly and taking a moment to pull away from her.

"Besides, Randy Walsh isn't my type, and I'm not his type either…", you laughed again. "And when I say that, I mean it literally…"

Jackie frowned, her clear eyes emanating curiosity. "What you mean?"

“Jackie…” you shrugged, scratching your forehead. "He is gay."

#yellowjackets #lgbt #yellowjackets x reader #romance #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #ella purnell x reader #jackie being a girlfaillure is such a loving thing to me #why this could be a thing she would do in the cannon?#honestly i want to write more jackie rn #send help

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251-dmr · 7 months ago

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The 2-AziraCrow Theory

Maybe I should be calling this my head canon, and not even give it theory status.

But I’ll press on nevertheless. This theory had a seed planted when I saw this quote mentioned at the end of one of Sendarya’s videos in which she mentioned the Theologica Germanica concept of the soul having two halves.

The soul has two eyes When one makes an effort Without the other It shan't get very far, When they help each other They accomplish much. [William of St-Thierry]

Some time later, I began to see the pattern, a theme, that seemed to emphasize the concept of twos.

After noticing these, I started looking for other repeating, seemingly frequent ideas.

These ideas just keep crashing and bouncing and ricocheting around in my head. They just won’t coalesce into anything coherent. My apologies for the chaos and disorganization.

Theme – Two, Half, Split There are references everywhere, in dialog and visually, to “2”s, “halves”, and “splits”. Far too many to list, but examples include putting the lesser demons on half rations; being shown a demon’s split-tongue three different times, Azi & Crowley performing half a miracle each; Shax asking Crowley about the two yellow(!) lights on the boiler; the twin passions of Bildad; Crowley leads the humans out of the bookshop 2x2; even Uriel makes two complete revolutions pacing around Michael in the scene before Sq and Muriel arrive in E1. Honestly, the list is extensive. I suppose, however, that it could be referring to two of any number of things.

Theme – Inside/Outside Again, we have dialog and visuals that emphasize the idea of things being inside or outside, but especially inside. Azi to Crowley in the smitten scene “Why don’t you wait inside? You like to wait inside?” Nina’s “A lot of people in this head…”; And we have so many scenes of someone looking inside or out a window. I have quite a list in another document on my computer.

Theme – Spies This one starts right off with the spy sitting down at the wrong bench, next to Crowley. Shax recruits Crowley to try and find out what’s going on in the Up. Beez recruits Crowley to help find Gabriel, etc. Then there’s Jane Austen, master spy. The three zombies spying on them to get Furfur’s proof and we could even say that those go back to S1E3, 1941, “…half-witted Nazi spies running about London…” And, I also really, really don’t trust Michael. Could they be a spy for hell in heaven? But I don’t have any real evidence for that. Just a distrust of Michael.

Theme – “Bit”s Another word used throughout the season, and maybe even in S1. Well, we definitely have the final S1 scene with Azi saying to Crowley “…if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit, a good person.” Searching the S2 transcript comes up with ~25-ish uses of the word. Is that a lot? Or normal? I have nothing to compare to it, nor base it on. So although Azi is not Crowley’s “bit on the side”, I thought, maybe Crowley is sometimes Azi’s “bit on the inside”.

Theme – Point Another well-used word throughout the script, appearing ~24 times. This is trickier, though, because “point” can have a number of reasons – the reason or conclusion, indicating direction, or the sharp point, of, say, a pin? I suspect that all are somehow applicable in this season.

But just looking at the last one, it could be a call-back to S1 and how many angels, or demons, can dance on the head of a pin. Where we learn that Crowley can make himself small enough to speed through a telephone wire.

I always vaguely thought Crowley’s line to Mrs Sandwich about whether or not she had her hatpin was a bit of an odd, maybe throw-away line and Mrs Sandwich responds so quickly and charmingly that the line gets passed over. But again, is it a reminder of what angels and demons are capable of? Or does this line mean something else I’m just not aware of?

Theme – Small Crowley Not as fully developed, and maybe not as obvious, but in E1 on the bench, for example, after the spy leaves, we see “normal-sized” Crowley immediately followed by seeing a “small” Crowley in Shax’s compact mirror (and he’s looking out of the mirror, see above) when she arrives. In the resurrection minisode, we see another “small” Crowley, when he’s off his head on laudanum.

Theme – “Invisible” Crowley As far as I’ve gotten to date, there are two definite scenes where I think Crowley is actually inside Azi’s head (or whatever) and not physically there.

First, when they leave GMCoGMD with the Eccles cakes in E1. As soon as they are outside the shop, Azi barely looks at Crowley, and Maggie doesn’t seem to see him, that brief conversation is only between Azi and Maggie. Crowley only “talks” to Azi once they’ve started walking again.

Second, and the bigger one, is in E5 when Azi heads out to solicit the shopkeepers to go to the meeting. Crowley asks “Can I watch?” and just follows Azi around and again, Azi barely looks at him; the shopkeepers appear to act as if they are only talking to one person, and Crowley is completely quiet around them, just hanging around in the background.

I also noticed that in these cases Crowley is on Azi’s right, the opposite of where we usually see him. (Oh, an exception is Mrs Cheng, where he’s on Azi’s left again, and he acknowledges Mrs Cheng when they leave, implying to me that Mrs Cheng can see him.) There could be more instances where we see this behavior, but I haven’t studied every episode yet to look for it.

Theme – S2 posters Just looking at these two for now. Azi and Crowley with one pair of wings, one white one black, behind them. I’ve seen the line “…and they aren’t talking…” I’m not quite convinced yet that they aren't talking. I think it could mean they aren’t talking face-to-face, physically. And I optimistically see their positioning as that they’ve still got each other’s back. Maybe I’m in denial, but I just don’t see the “break-up” as extensive as many seem to.

The other poster is this one of Azi and Crowley, each with the other in their heads/thoughts. Crowley is “seeing” Azi from a memory, from 1941. But Azi is seeing a current Crowley, draped across the bookshop chair. Also, I noted that the [double!] rings that surround them are linked.

My way-out-there idea, then, is that Azi and Crowley have “carved out” space for a duplicate but also somehow real, bookshop (a high-fidelity copy?) within Azi, within his mind, his brain, his soul, I don’t know. And he can enter and leave it as needed. It could also be a copy of Azi’s memories or something.

But it’s also someplace Crowley can visit, a place he can go in and out of (like the telephone lines in S1) as needed. I wonder, then, does Crowley in the end “split” himself, so that a “bit” of himself can go up to heaven with Azi? Referring back to Jane Austen, brandy smuggler – is Azi smuggling Crowley into heaven? All season, Azi usually has his hands closed, perhaps to imply he’s carrying and/or hiding something.

With this theory, it gets complicated, though, figuring out which “reality” we’re looking at. The external original(?) world? Azi’s copy in his head? Or a memory? Or none of the above and this is all nonsense.

Multiple sets of memories, possibly getting mixed together, could help account for the inconsistencies in flashbacks, the apparent “continuity errors” in various scenes, the changing POV.

We’ve seen the physical appearance swap. We’ve seen Azi’s physical possession of Madame Tracy in which they could both control the body. What I am considering is neither of those.

This is just a start. I’ll keep working on it unless someone already has some convincing evidence that clearly refutes the idea.

#good omens s2 #gos2 #go meta #good omens meta

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 16 days ago

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Untitled Spamton X Reader fic Ch1

The stress of election night made me cave and start writing a self-indulgent Spamton x Reader fic...that I was hoping to finish that night but as you can see it took me a bit longer because writing 6k words in one night is hard. T_T

Anyway, he's my entry into the genre of "Reader finds Spamton in a dumpster and takes him home" fics. Maybe there's room for one more in that category? 🥺

Not sure if/when I'll continue working on this but uh. Here y'all go.

(Also sorry I spend the first few paragraphs writing an actual vent post about my actual job adfajdafjdal)

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Today hasn’t exactly been noteworthy. It’s just another day, like so many you’ve had before. Wake up, trudge over to your desk, sign on to work, pretend you’ve been awake for at least an hour longer than you have been, and rub the sleep out of your eyes while you gnosh on a cereal bar because (as usual) you don’t have time to make anything else before your morning meetings start.

You pay no more or less attention than usual, picking away at your own tasks while two of your coworkers have an in depth discussion on something you probably don’t need to concern yourself with. With your camera off they are left to assume you’re listening just as raptly as they’d wish you to.

The meeting ends and you dive fully into your work. You enjoy programming. The product itself (some productivity-helper app that’s not much different than dozens of others) is not of particular interest to you. You don’t even use it in your personal life--only for checking on work-related things.

You get a ping from a coworker. The dev environment is down. Again. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He heard you do?

You suppress a sigh that he wouldn’t’ve heard through the screen anyway.

You fixed it once, about a year ago, out of desperation. It had been an easy fix but somehow it had been enough to convince people you Knew What You Were Doing, and a couple more fixes later, you found yourself in the unenviable position of “The Guy (gender-neutral)”.

You close several windows and open several more, your previous task for the day forgotten. Two more people ping you. Did you know the dev environment is down? Yes. Your boss pings you. Did you know? Of course you know.

You dive back into the spaghetti code you still don’t fully understand. The person who wrote it left six months ago. You follow a thread of convoluted logic, only to lose your train of thought when another colleague messages you.

Did you know?

YES.

Line by line, search query after search query, you toil to untangle the mess.

And suddenly find your own code staring you back in the face. The very first fix you’d made had been defective. Impermanent. A flimsy rubber band that had finally snapped.

You frown. You wonder what you’d been thinking when you’d fixed it before. The flaw in your approach seems obvious now. And yet somehow it had been good enough for you to be crowned “The Guy (gender-neutral)”.

You sure weren’t “The Guy (gender-neutral)” then…but maybe you are now. Or close to it.

A couple more keystrokes and dev is back in business.

…It’s also the middle of the night, your colleagues have signed off, and you forgot to eat dinner. Again.

You crash down from the high of your accomplishment--deflated, hungry, and tired. You message chat that everything’s fixed but you’ll be late tomorrow, and close your work computer.

How had you worked for twelve hours without even noticing? Maybe you like programming more than you thought.

You’re not sure how you feel about that.

You rise from your chair with a tired groan, padding out to the kitchen.

…Where you promptly see--and worse, smell--the bag of trash you meant to take out this morning.

“Ugggghhhh…” you groan in disgust and self-pity, your shoulders slumping.

You grumble to yourself in frustration as you pull on your coat, grab the bag roughly by the handles as if it had any more say its fate than you, and proceed to name-drop every one of your coworkers in your mumblings as you make your way down four flights of stairs.

…Only to realize it’s raining. Not exactly a downpour--light enough that you didn’t hear it from your apartment, but heavy enough that you’ll definitely be soaked if you try to get to the dumpster.

Whatever. You’re not lugging the trash bag back up the stairs only to get your umbrella. You were going to change into your PJs while dinner was cooking anyway.

You grit your teeth and cross the dimly lit parking lot to the three-wall, roofless structure that contains the dumpsters and recycling bins.

The rain in your eyes, the dim lighting, and your own grim determination to be done with your task almost cause you to miss it, but as you’re attempting to dry your hands before stuffing them back in your coat pockets, you see it.

A small white boot sticking out from the gap between the dumpster and the enclosure. You’re not sure what draws you to it--at first you think it’s just an old discarded piece of clothing that fell out of the overflowing bin.

Your gut instinct realizes what your conscious mind hasn’t yet, forcing you to take a step towards it and get a closer look.

Your stomach twists as you realize the boot is definitely still attached to something. At first you think it’s a child, but the figure’s odd proportions dismiss the idea before you can even so much as cry out in alarm.

The head accounts for about a third of the height, and the shoulders are strangely broad, with the legs being rather short in proportion. Though all that is trivial compared to the distinctly inhuman face.

Well…it’s probably meant to be based on a human, you realize, but it certainly isn’t one. The large mouth is fixed in a permanent, uncannily huge grin, and the pointed nose is cartoonishly long. A pair of glasses cover the eyes, the lenses of which are currently dark.

It’s too big to be a doll. A ventriloquist puppet, maybe? The jaw looks articulated in the way that such puppets usually are. Not that you know much about puppets or puppetry.

But you think they’re usually expensive…though price aside, even this scuffed up, damaged figure seems deserving of a fate better than being tossed into some dumpster. You’ve always been the sentimental sort who feels sorry for lost and damaged toys, despite knowing full well that they’re not “real”.

Someone had once believed they were, and then they just…stopped.

You shake off the melancholy thought with a literal shake of your head, flinging raindrops from your hair.

You crouch down beside the puppet, tucking your hands under its arms and hoisting it up, only to nearly drop it as your grip fumbles. It’s way heavier than you’d expected! You’d assumed ventriloquist puppets were mostly hollow, but this one certainly isn’t. Maybe your assumption had just been wrong?

It’s going to be more of a pain to lug this thing back to your apartment, but well…in for a penny, in for a pound. Or fifty. Whichever.

There’s also something a bit odd about its joints…its limbs don’t flop around as much as you’d expect, but you chalk that up to the joints being partially stuck.

You carry it upright, your arms around its waist while its arms drape over your shoulders. You swear you hear a slight groan from it as you push the stairwell door open with your hip. It must have a voice box? Did puppets usually have those? Either way, the low, droning suggested the batteries were almost dead.

You finally make it up to your unit. If it hadn’t been raining you’d’ve been drenched with sweat now. As it is, it’s probably still mostly rainwater, but you try not to think about how much of a sweat you worked up carrying the heavy thing upstairs.

You kick the door shut behind you, flinching when it closes a bit louder than you’d meant it to. You take the puppet to the kitchen, laying it on its back on the counter. Or trying to…one of its hands gets caught on the hood of your jacket. When you reach up to pull it free, you realize the joints of the hand had curled in at some point, gripping the hoodie.

There’s something…off about that, about this whole thing, but…it’s just a puppet…right?

There’s nothing else it could be, really…

You remove your jacket, tossing it over the back of one of the dining chairs for now. There’s really no reason for you to tend to the puppet before yourself, but…

You grab a paper towel and begin wiping the grime and rainwater from its face, occasionally glancing at the darkened glasses that obscure its eyes. What an odd looking thing…but puppets often are.

You can’t quite tell what it’s made of. Wood or plastic are your best guesses but neither of them quite fit. It has the smooth rigidness of plastic but somehow, paradoxically, it also seems somewhat organic and is a bit warmer than you’d expect a rain soaked toy to be. The material’s even a bit malleable. The nose even has a bit of give, you realize as you push on it experimentally, bending it downwards. Foam, maybe?

As you push on the nose, the head abruptly turns away, and another low, rattly moan plays from the voice box.

With a gasp, you quickly pull away. Does…this thing have some kind of mechanism to move on its own? Maybe it’s only meant to look like a puppet, but is actually more of a robotic toy? That would explain the weight, you suppose…

But it certainly adds to the mystery of why anyone would throw it away.

You cup its cheek in one hand as you use the other to wipe some grime from its hair.

Your gaze drifts downward and you realize its clothes should probably be removed and hung up to dry.

…Why does that thought cause your face to heat up? You’ve fixed up old dolls and toys before, with no particular regard for their modesty.

You’re just tired. You’re tired and had a stressful day and it’s making you just a bit silly. That’s all.

You reach down and start attempting to remove the puppet’s blazer. Before you can undo the first button, though, its arm shoots up, its small hand wrapping around your wrist.

“[[ Showroom model only--not available for purchase! ]] [[ Break it you buy it!! ]]” Two audio clips in two different voices play from somewhere within the puppet.

You scream in surprise, pulling back so quickly you accidentally drag the puppet off the counter before it can let go of your wrist. You don’t fare much better as your heel catches on the leg of a dining chair, causing you to land hard on your rear.

You place a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself. There’s a rational explanation for the puppet’s movement on the tip of your tongue, but it flies out the window almost immediately.

The puppet stirs. His glasses go from black to grey static as he lifts a hand to his forehead, struggling to get his bearings. The corners of his mouth are turned down in what you guess must be the closest thing to a frown he can muster with his large, semi-permanent grin.

“Wh-What the hell…” you breathe in a strained whisper.

“[[ Temp--Temp--Temporarily out of service!! ]]” This audio clip is yet another voice. It sounds like the clip was originally recorded in a peppy, upbeat tone, but the playback is so low and garbled you can’t help but compare it to someone at the brink of death struggling to speak.

The puppet goes limp once again, the grey static on his glasses fading back to black. He’s collapsed on the floor, laying on his side in a growing puddle of rainwater as it slowly runs off his clothes.

You stare at him in stunned silence for several moments.

It’s mechanical. Robotic. A weird toy robot…thing…with low batteries and probably a busted circuit board or two.

It’s not alive.

But why would an expensive toy robot be in the dumpster?

Why would a living puppet be in the dumpster???

Your brain’s just fried from work. You need rest. And probably food. The puppet can wait.

You bite your lip. He’s not alive, but…that’s no reason to just leave him on the floor, right?

You quickly grab one of your fluffy bath towels from the linen closet and wrap the puppet in it, carrying him to the living room and laying him on the couch with far more respect and dignity than a totally-not-alive puppet actually needs, even putting one of your throw pillows under his head.

The rainwater’s going to soak through the towel and you’ll have a damp sofa by the time you finish dinner, but…well. It’ll dry. Whatever.

Still…you take a moment to look him over again as you kneel beside the couch. You place a hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly towards yourself. The grimace from before seems to have relaxed into a fairly neutral smile…you guess that must be his “default” expression.

You brush a few stray locks of hair from his face, then adjust his arms so that his hands are atop his chest--a more comfortable resting position than them splayed haphazardly beside him. As you do, you lightly grip one of his hands. It’s a bit smaller than your own, and the joints are fully articulated, giving it the same range of motion as a human hand.

The hand twitches and you quickly drop it. It lands with a soft thud atop his chest.

Enough silliness. You can look over the puppet once you get your head together.

You go into the bathroom, finally stripping out of your wet clothes and hanging them on the curtain rod to dry before changing into your PJs--some flannel lounge pants and an oversize T-shirt. As you walk back to the kitchen, you glance at the puppet on your couch, but force yourself not to stop and check on him again.

You hope some mac and cheese will pull you out of whatever temporary insanity working for twelve hours straight has inflicted upon you.

Spamton stirs as the sound of the soft thudding of a wooden spoon stirring a pot of boiling pasta reaches him.

Where…is he? The towel slides off him as he sits up, and he glances at it curiously, running his thumb over the soft, fluffy fabric. There was never anything this nice in the dumpster, that’s for sure.

But he’s also clearly not in his dumpster. He takes in the sight of your dimly lit apartment, the only light coming from the kitchen.

It doesn’t quite look like any sort of Cyber City apartment he’s ever seen. He can’t quite put his finger on why, but…after a second of thought, the word “mundane” pops into his mind. This place is more mundane than any part of Cyber City he’s ever been to. Though…he supposes he’s really only seen the highest highs and lowest lows…maybe the middle tiers of the city are a bit more mundane. It would make a certain amount of sense, though he can’t help but think the answer’s more complicated than that.

He slides off the couch, looking towards the light spilling from the kitchen.

“Mundane” aside, how’d he get into any apartment? As desperate as he’d gotten, he’d never committed B & E…at least for the purpose of sleeping on some stranger’s couch. And how long has it been since anyone had invited him into their home?

How long has it been since…anything?

Spamton wracks his brain, trying to pull up his most recent memory, whatever he was doing before he ended up here. The last thing he can remember--clearly, anyway--is just sitting in his dumpster in the back alleys of Cyber City, about to doze off.

But…somehow that memory seems like it was from long ago. Weeks, at least. And there are glimpses of something more recent that he can’t quite place.

Green wires.

The rollercoaster, with three carts speeding towards him.

A blue-haired, blue-skinned Lightner.

The latter, he had no idea who they were…and that thought caused a pang of guilt in his chest. They were…important. Why couldn’t he remember?

His gaze drifts back towards the kitchen and he slowly steps towards it.

How do you fit into any of this, he wonders?

You’re pouring the pasta and water into the strainer when you hear a sound behind you.

The quiet click of hard-soled shoes on kitchen tile.

You turn to glance behind you, more out of instinct than any expectation to actually see anything.

The puppet is up and walking towards you, a sight so shocking on its own that you don’t even notice the curious, borderline timid expression on his face, nor the way his hands are raised slightly as if to assure you he means no harm.

You wish you’d simply frozen at the sight of him.

Instead, your fatigued, nervous, downright jittery brain panics immediately, spinning fully to face him, despite the pot of boiling water in your hand. Lucky for you it’s nearly empty, but “nearly” is still enough for a decent sized splash to land on your bare forearm.

You cry out in pain, clutching your burned arm to your chest as you collapse onto the floor, your back pressed against the cabinets as you stare wide-eyed at the puppet.

“WOAH !! RELAX [[ valued customer ]]!!” the puppet speaks, his voice far clearer than it had been before. Though there’s still a slight static to it, as if it’s being played over a worn out speaker. “[[ Apologies for the inconvenience ]], I’M NOT--”

Spamton cuts himself off when he realizes you’re now staring down at your burned arm. Your hands are shaking as you stare at your blistering skin, tears of pain--and probably fear--welling in your eyes.

“[[ It Burns! Ow! Stop! Help Me! It Burns! ]]”

Your gaze snaps back to him. “What?!” you yelp, incredulous despite the bizarreness of the situation. Why’s he acting like he’s the one who got burned?

No sooner than the thought enters your head than you notice his slack expression, his glasses once again going staticy. But once again, things seem to pivot on a dime and he snaps out of it so fast you wonder if you weren’t just seeing things.

“SORRY!!” he says, holding up his hands. “DIDN’T MEAN TO [[ all kinds of surprises!! ]] YOU!!”

Spamton steps towards you and you shrink back against the cabinets. He takes the hint and backs off, still holding up his hands. After a brief pause, he snaps his fingers, and to your utter astonishment, a miniature, cherub-like version of himself appears and flitters towards you.

You’re too stunned at the sight to even consider pulling away, your jaw going slack as you watch the little creature land weightlessly on your arm and gently pat the blistering, reddening skin. A wave of green sparkly lights washes over your injury and the burns, along with the cherub, disappear.

A one word question echoes in your mind and you can’t help but speak it aloud in a strained, wavering voice.

“Magic…?”

Spamton dips his head in a nod. He holds up a hand, and the cherub reappears, perching on his finger and giving you a little wave. “YEP! JUST A [[ simple, one-stop solution ]] FOR [[ all your routine medical needs ]],” he says, dismissing the cherub with a wave of his hand. He hesitates, then steps towards you again. When you don’t flinch away, he closes the distance between you two, lightly touching your arm.

“NO MORE [[ It Burns! ]]?”

“U-Uhm,” you stammer. The way his voice sounds so pained when switching to the “It Burns” line is unnerving…you guess it’s just a soundbyte, that he’s not actually feeling the pain or distress the voice line suggests. His expression certainly seems to hold genuine concern, despite the semi-permanent smile. “Y-Yeah…I…” You glance down at his hand on your arm.

He really did heal it. Just like that. The pain and blistering just…gone in an instant. You’d guess you were dreaming, but…there’s no way you’d sleep through such intense pain, imagined or not.

“You…do magic,” you say weakly. The laugh you let out borders on manic. “I mean sure, why wouldn’t you do magic?”

Either he doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it, for he takes a step back, grinning and puffing out his chest. “WHY NOT INDEED? SPAM SPAMTON G. SPAMTON [[ #1 Rated Salesman 1997 ]] IS A MAN OF [[ dozens of unique skills ]]!” he declares.

“S-Spamton? That’s…your name?” you ask.

He grins, pointing at you while a DING DING DING chime plays, his glasses lenses switching colors on every beat. “AND [[ who do I have the pleasure of speaking to? ]]”

You tell him your name, still dazed.

He stays silent, canting his head and looking up at you uncertainly, seemingly waiting for you to recover.

“Wh-What are you?” you blurt abruptly.

Spamton blinks, but far from being offended at the question, he tosses his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The cadence is a bit faster than a human would typically laugh, almost like the rapid fire of a machine gun…but as laughs go it’s far from unpleasant. “[[ Doll ]] I WAS JUST ABOUT TO [[ Ask Away! ]] YOU THE SAME THING!!”

You blink. “Um. I-I’m…a human. Surely…you’ve seen humans before?”

“OF COURSE!! [[ And don’t call me Shirly ]],” he quips. “BUT I’M NOT SEEING ANY [[ Heart-shaped Object ]].”

“H-Heart shaped object?” you repeat, absently rubbing at your chest. You assume he’s not talking about your actual heart.

“YOU’RE NO DARK >n3R…NOT A LIGHT >n3R EITHER?” he asks, canting his head curiously.

“I-I…I mean I guess not, not that…that I know of?” you say helplessly.

You’re a bit surprised he’s the one questioning you. It hadn’t occurred to you that he’d be just as confounded by his situation as you are.

“IS THIS THE DARK WORLD OR LIGHT WORLD?”

You stare blankly. “I…I don’t know? Neither, I…I think?”

“SO THEN…WH WHERE IN THE [[ Tri-County Area ]] AM I?”

You stammer a moment, not even sure what sort of answer he’d want for that. “M-My apartment?” you say inanely. At his deadpan, unimpressed look you tell him the name of your city, and when that doesn’t ring a bell, you add your state.

He frowns, tapping his chin with one hand.

“Where are you from, then?”

“CYBER CITY, IN THE DARK WORLD.”

“Doesn’t sound like any place near here…I-Is it…really an entirely different world?”

“[[ Survey Says: ]] YES.”

It’s as likely as anything else. Living puppet with healing magic…why not add world-hopping on top of that at this point?

“[[ You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? ]]”

“I…don’t know. I mean, I found you in a dumpster and brought you up here. I have no idea where you were before that…”

“BROUGHT ME [[ all the way up ]] HERE? WHY?”

“I um. Well,” you shift uncomfortably. “I…uh, thought you were a toy or puppet or something…”

“TOY NO, PUPPET YES,” he says. As he admits it, his glasses briefly go staticy and his smile fades, but he quickly shakes it off. “SO, DUMPSTER DIVING FOR [[ marketable goods ]], EH?” he chuckles.

“N-No! It was just--” You bite back your protest. You probably should have just said yes. It’s probably less silly than your real reason. At his expectant look, you feel your cheeks heat up. “I-I just…I like…fixing up old toys and it’s just…k-kinda…sad to see them get abandoned…and you just seemed too--” You cut yourself off again. You should have stopped a sentence or two ago, but once again Spamton is looking at you curiously and you feel compelled to complete your statement. “--F-Fancy…to just…be tossed in some landfill…”

You can see his eyes blink in surprise behind his glasses. His slightly open mouth closes with an audible clack and he chuckles. “WELL I AM A BIT OF A [[ Mr. Fancy-Pants ]]...OR AT LEAST I WAS,” he adds, his grin seeming to fade slightly.

A beat of silence passes as he seems to get lost in his own head for a moment, and you think you start to see bits of static appearing in his glasses. The corners of his mouth start to droop as his smile fades.

“W-Well, nothing a bit of mending won’t fix, right?” you say, assuming he’s only referring to his torn up suit and some of the scuffs on his face and hands.

Spamton snaps out of whatever trance he’s in, looking at you in confusion for a moment before his previous smile returns.

“...RIGHT. WELL, ANYWAY [[ doll ]], THANKS FOR THE [[ solid assist ]] BUT IT’S ABOUT TIME I [[ hit the road ]].”

You blink. “Um. What?”

He raises a brow. “[[ Hit the road ]], [[ Make like a tree and leaf ]], [[ head off into the sunset in your brand-new cungadero ]]?”

You can’t help but blurt out an incredulous, “To where?” Your cheeks warm and you glance away awkwardly, rubbing your arm. “I-I mean, n-not that it’s any of my business, but…a minute ago you didn’t even know what world you’re in…”

Spamton stares at you a moment before throwing his head back in another laugh. “HEAHAHAHAHA!!” You can’t help but notice the laugh seems a bit forced. “[[ Doll ]], DON’T YOU KNOW A TRUE [[ #1 Salesman 1997 ]] WILL [[ never give up, never surrender!! ]]?”

You finally manage to give a weak smile. “Well…that’s all well and good, but…do you even have a plan?”

“DO YOU?”

“Heh,” you chuckle nervously. “N-Not…a super long term one, but…I’d uh…I’d…feel bad sending you away like this…drenched and dirty with nowhere to go…”

His head tilts slightly to one side as he regards you. “WILLING TO MAKE A [[ Specil Deal ]], [[ doll ]]?”

You blink at his phrasing. “I…don’t know about a deal, but…I-I mean…you can…crash here for tonight? Get washed up, dry your clothes at least?”

“AND WHAT”S THE [[ payment method required ]]?”

“No payment!” you say quickly. “Just…”

“[[ Complimentary service ]]?”

You laugh slightly. “Exactly.”

He considers, rubbing his chin as he tries to figure out what possible catch there could be. Finally, he holds out a hand. “[[ Terms & Conditions Accepted !! ]]”

You let out a more earnest laugh, nodding. “Alright, Spamton,” you say, wrapping your hand around his and giving a hearty handshake.

Spamton steps back, glancing around at the mess you’d made. The pan had clattered to the floor, and there was a puddle of spilled water and a few stray noodles on the floor. Luckily dinner itself is salvageable--the majority of the noodles are still safely in the strainer in the sink.

“[[ Tired of cleaning up after dinner? Why not let -- ]] YOUR [[ good pal ]] SPAMTON TAKE CARE OF THAT?” he offers, going over to pick up the pan, handing it to you as you finally get to your feet.

“Thanks, but…” You lift your gaze past him, seeing the muddy footprints he’s tracked into the kitchen. You smile weakly. “Maybe you should get yourself tidied up first? The bathroom’s just down the hall, I can finish up in here while you shower?”

He follows your gaze to the dirt he’s tracked into the kitchen, then smiles up at you sheepishly. “GOOD POINT. BUT WHY DON”T WE [[ get the best of both worlds ]]?” He snaps his fingers, and two cherubs appear. They smile cutely at you before one of them flies down to the ground to begin gathering the spilled noodles and the other pulls the towel off the oven handle and drapes it over the puddle.

“Heh…s-sounds good…” you say, once again caught off guard by his ability to just…manifest helpful little creatures.

The cherubs finish cleaning while you shake the last of the water from the pasta strainer, rinse out the pan, and start mixing the cheese in with the noodles.

They finish the cleanup before you finish the cooking, and all you have to do is open the cupboard so they can toss the floor noodles away.

“Um, thanks guys?” you say uncertainly.

Their little grins get even wider at your praise and they perch on the edge of the stove, watching you stir the noodles.

You notice they seem to be watching a bit…intently. Their heads bop slightly as they track the motion of the spoon, the reflective pink and yellow lenses on their glasses making it hard to read their expressions.

“Hey uh…m-maybe this is a weird question…” Though you wonder if anything’s a weird question when posed to a pair of tiny puppet cherubs summoned by a magic living puppet from another world. “D’you two…get hungry?”

Their attention perks to you so raptly that you have to assume the answer is a firm yes.

You chuckle weakly at that, scooping out a spoonful of noodles and blowing on it. “D’you like mac and cheese?”

They nod eagerly, making a squeaky trilling sound as they abruptly take off towards the spoon.

“H-Hey! Careful, it’s hot!” you say, holding up a hand to try to block them before they burn themselves.

Your attempt fails, but it doesn’t seem to matter. They dart around your hand and perch on either side of the spoon, greedily shoving the cheesy noodles into their mouths. If the heat is even remotely uncomfortable to them, they’re not showing any sign of it.

“Guess you were hungry…” you say, amused. You grab a piece of paper towel and wrap it around your finger, wiping the cheese from their faces. They make a faint sound of protest, the red on their cheeks growing a bit redder at your attention.

You set the spoon aside and turn the stove to low to keep the food warm. “I’d better check on Spamton,” you say to the cherubs.

As you walk down the hall to the bathroom, you hear the shower switch off and the door opens. A faint cloud of steam emerges, followed closely by Spamton.

One of your hand towels is wrapped around his waist and the other is around his shoulders. He’s using the corner of said towel to wipe the steam from his glasses lenses. Locks of damp hair fall across his forehead and cling to his neck and shoulders, a few droplets running down his bare chest.

His shoulders are wider than you’d expected--seems his blazer isn’t as padded as you’d assumed. His whole frame on the stocky side, and he has a slightly protruding gut that hadn’t really been noticeable under his blazer.

You wish you could blame the cloud of warm steam for your burning face.

“HEY [[ doll ]], WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE A [[ clean-pressed ]] [[ size L T-shirt ]] I COULD BORROW? MY BLAZER IS--” He places his glasses back on his face and cuts himself off when he notices you staring.

A beat of uncertain silence passes before you snap out of it. “Oh! U-U-Uh--Of course!” you squeak. “L-Let me just grab that for you!” you say quickly. You duck into your bedroom without waiting for a response, grabbing one of a large T-shirt and a pair of boxers. You’re not sure how well either will fit him, but you’ve got nothing better to offer right now.

When you get back to the bathroom, he’s standing on the counter in front of a portion of the mirror he’d wiped the fog from. He’s helped himself to one of your combs and is brushing his damp hair from his face.

You try not to look him in the eye--or anywhere else--as you pass him the clothing.

“THANKS, [[ doll ]]!” he says brightly.

You nod, mumbling some lame excuse about needing to check on the food before scurrying back to the kitchen.

When you get there, you see the cherubs have been busy. The table’s been set, and they’ve even taken a couple throw pillows from the couch and piled them on one of the chairs for Spamton. Glancing into the living room, you notice they even refolded the towel Spamton had been wrapped in.

“Oh, thanks guys!” you say, earning another set of happy squeaks from the little pair.

You busy yourself with dishing out the macaroni, and by the time you’re done, Spamton’s emerged from the bathroom.

The PJs you lent him are…suitable. They hang a bit awkwardly on him, but given how different your body shapes are it’s a miracle you had anything that was even remotely wearable for him.

“THANKS AGAIN FOR THE [[ brand-new threads ]] AND [[ hearty, nutritious dinner ]]!” he says, effortlessly hopping up onto the chair and taking his seat. He looks at the bowl of macaroni before him and hesitates, looking up at you uncertainly…perhaps even guiltily. “AND…YOU”RE SURE ALL THIS IS [[ complimentary service ]]?”

“Sure,” you say easily. “The little guys certainly seemed hungry…I’m…guessing you are too?”

Spamton gives the two cherubs--who are now sitting on the table between you two--a disapproving look. “MANNERS,” he says, pointing the spoon at them accusingly.

You laugh, waving a hand. “Oh no, they were very polite!” you say. A bit overeager, and a bit messy in their own eating, but in your mind all the extra cleaning they did more than makes up for it.

“GOOD,” he says, waving a hand. And with that, the two cherubs disappear, leaving only a few green sparkles in their wake.

“Oh…you didn’t have to send them away…” you say.

Spamton chuckles. “THEY WERE SLEEPY.”

You give a bemused laugh. “I…see. You’d know best I suppose,” you concede. “I’ve never even seen magic before today…”

He glances up in surprise. “NO? NOT EVER?”

“Not real magic, no. Not like…healing burns and conjuring cherubs,” you say.

“MINITONS,” he corrects.

“Pardon?”

“MINITONS. MINI SPAMTONS,” he clarifies with a playful smirk.

“Oh!” you laugh. “That’s…actually kinda cute,” you say.

Spamton gives you a wry look. “IT’S MEANT TO BE [[ concise and informative ]], NOT [[ adorable ]],” he says, though despite his look he sounds more amused than exasperated.

“It can be both,” you retort.

“IF YOU INSIST,” he says with a good natured eye roll.

The conversation ceases as he digs into his meal. His manners are much better than the Minitons of course, but he can’t completely hide the urgency with which he eats…though he does decline your offer of seconds, you sense it’s more out of a sense of guilt at how much you’ve given him than him actually being full.

And possibly being too tired to eat any more. Even with his glasses you can see his eyelids starting to droop by the time he drops his spoon into the empty bowl. But as soon as you get up and make as if to take the dishes to the sink, he snaps back to life.

“WAIT!!” he says, hopping up to stand on his chair, grabbing his bowl before reaching up and taking yours out of your hand. “SINCE YOU COOKED [[ delicis 5-Star meal ]] I’LL [[ cleans and polishes your dishes with a sparkling shine, guaranteed no food residue ]]!!” He grins up at you. “IT’S THE [[ bare minimum as required by law ]].” He blinks at the last part of the statement, his smile turning markedly sheepish. Apparently those little phrases don’t always come out sounding quiiiiite how he wants.

You take it in stride, laughing. “It’s alright, Spamton, really.”

“I INSIST!” he insists, hopping down from his chair and pushing it towards the sink.

“W-Well…I suppose it’s fair…I’ll get the couch set up for you, then,” you say, assuming he’ll want to turn in for the night after he finishes the dishes.

Spamton isn’t sure why you’re so keen on helping him, but…he also can’t afford to say no. He assumes he’ll be on his way tomorrow…even though he still doesn’t have an answer to the question you posed earlier.

To where?

He has no idea how to get back to the Dark World, and he gets the feeling he’s not exactly going to fit seamlessly into this one.

If he were more awake, anxiety would be gnawing at him, but even his anxieties are too tired for that right now.

He finishes the dishes, and despite his fatigue he does get them spotless as promised.

He hops down from the chair, forgetting to push it back to the table, and trudges tiredly into the living room.

Spamton stops, staring in surprise at what he sees.

Apparently your couch has a pullout bed, which you’ve set up with two blankets and a couple plush pillows, despite the fact that the couch itself had been more than big enough for him to sleep on. Hell, he could have scraped by with just one of those pillows to curl up on for the night.

“ALL THIS FOR [[ lil’ ol’ me ]]?” he asks, stunned as you finish fluffing the second pillow and toss it into place.

You shrug. “Sure, why not? I got a pullout couch for a reason,” you say. “Besides, the cushions were still damp, and the mattress is a bit more comfortable, I think.”

Spamton looks up at you uncertainly, his mouth opening and closing a couple times. Insisting that the couch is fine would only mean you having to re-fold the pullout bed. He runs a hand over the soft blankets, far cleaner and softer than any bedding he’s had in a long time. “[[ …thank you… ]]”

Your cheeks warm at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “No problem, Spamton…” you say softly. “I-I’ll um…see you in the morning, then?”

He hops onto the bed, scooting to the pillow and pulling the blanket back. “YES. OF COURSE, [[ doll ]].”

You nod, readily giving him his space and heading to your own room and climbing into your own bed.

You’d said he could stay for the night, but in reality, you have the same doubts Spamton does…and if anything, you have a more realistic idea of how unrealistic it is for him to just…leave and make his way in the world.

A conversation to have over breakfast, you suppose.

#spamton #spamton x reader #deltarune x reader #x reader #my writing

19 notes · View notes

wordsmithwhumpsandfluff · 9 months ago

Note

Would you write oliver with the stomach flu or food poisoning?

Bro, this one made me so freaking giddy! It's soooo cute!!❤️

TW: emeto

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The notes on Oliver’s desk seemed unreadable. The lights and his computer screen were too bright. Everything was going from hot to cold to hot to—

“Brown, how’s it going over here?”

Oliver startled as he realized that Dan, the paper’s editor, was standing right behind him.

Forcing himself to look more awake, Oliver smiled and said, “Oh, everything’s going great. I’m just trying to keep it interesting. Rugby isn’t all that entertaining to write about.” Nor to watch, he thought, remembering the excruciating hour-and-a-half he’d spent watching the game for the sports section of the paper.

“Alright, well, keep working,” Dan said. “Remember, we’re short staffed thanks to this damned flu.” He looked across the room to where another one of the writers—Harriet Fordson—was all but sleeping on her desk. Dan stalked over to her, loudly saying, “Fordson! Look alive, it’s not your fucking naptime!”

Oliver ran a hand down his face, downing his whole mug of coffee and focusing on his article.

It was a whole hour of writing, re-writing, and more re-writing before he emailed the finished piece to Dan, and then he left with his notes shoved lazily into his bag.

He was exhausted and felt like shit, to say the least. For one, he’d spent the last night staying up and studying for three different exams, finishing two assignments, and drinking cup after cup of coffee until about 4 in the morning, and he’d woken up at seven in order to get to his first class by 7:30.

He knew he must’ve looked as shitty as he felt. And since he’d woken up, there was a churning in his gut that wouldn’t go away, but he summed it up to just being hungry since he’d had twelve cups of coffee in the last 24 hours and no food. He was done working for the day. He could get something to eat, and then go home to crash on his bed for twenty hours with his cat.

Yeah, he’d do that. Now he just had to figure out what he wanted to—

“Olive!”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile as Isaac came up beside him. The blonde practically radiated Golden Retriever energy, so it was impossible not to smile.

“Hey,” Oliver said, his voice as tired as he was.

Isaac seemed to pick up on this instantly and his own smile faltered slightly. He raised a brow, looking over Oliver’s disheveled appearance. “Well, don’t you look all bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’m just tired, that’s all. And hungry.”

“I was gonna head out and get some subway,” Isaac said, still grinning. “Wanna come?”

Oliver agreed instantly.

The two boys wound up taking Isaac’s car over to the subway, but on the drive there Oliver felt the ache in his stomach and his headache get worse. And once the two boys had their subs, Oliver felt nauseous after just a couple of bites.

Isaac looked across the tiny subway table and saw Oliver’s grimace as he forced himself to swallow another bite. Setting down his own sandwich, Isaac frowned and asked, “You okay, Olive?”

Oliver nodded without looking at Isaac, taking another forced bite. Isaac’s frown deepened.

Oliver wound up forcing himself to eat the whole sandwich, knowing he had to have some food in his stomach instead of just coffee. By the time he and Isaac were back in the car though, he’d gone three shades paler.

“Want me to bring you back to campus so you can get your car?” Isaac asked, but Oliver shook his head.

“Just take me to my place, please.”

During the drive, Isaac talked. A lot.

He was talking about some friend of his in his psychology class, about his little sister who he was planning to go see that weekend, about his new neighbor who was driving him crazy with blaring loud music, and about—

“Isaac, stop.”

In an instant, Isaac stopped talking and glanced at Oliver. The black-haired guy was glaring out the window, looking almost green. “Olive—”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Oliver said, his voice shaking a little. Saliva was quickly filling his mouth and he could taste not just his sandwich but also his coffee.

“Shit,” Isaac cursed, looking for somewhere to stop. “Okay, crap. . . Um, open the glove compartment. There’s plastic bags in there.”

Oliver did just that, hastily opening the glove compartment and grabbing a bag. He opened it just in time to throw up his undigested lunch.

Just the smell made him gag again and continue to puke into the bag.

Isaac cursed softly. Then said, “I keep the bags in here since you get carsick.”

Oliver, still hovering over the bag with a string of drool on his lower lip, was suddenly aware though that this was not carsickness. He swore under his breath before muttering, “I think I got the goddamn flu, Isaac.”

The blonde’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Again, Oliver gagged and threw up into the bag. The plastic bag was getting heavier.

Oliver was so busy trying to keep his gut in check that he didn’t even realize that Isaac had made a few turns in the wrong directions. They stopped sooner than they should’ve since Oliver’s place was about ten minutes from the subway, not five.

When Oliver looked up and saw Isaac’s apartment, he groaned and dropped his head. “You kidnapped me again, asshole.”

Isaac chuckled and got out of the car, going around to Oliver’s side and opening the door. “Yeah yeah, you can never escape my evil clutches,” he said teasingly as he took the bag from Oliver’s hands. He took the bag over to a trashcan in the parking lot and tossed it in before going back over to Oliver.

Oliver was standing outside the car now, leaning heavily against it. Even more color had drained from his face, and Isaac felt a pang of worry. His own bout with the flu had been real life hell. Knowing Oliver, the smaller guy was gonna have it far worse.

“C’mon, lean on me,” Isaac said, grabbing his best friend’s arm.

Oliver leaned against him with a dizzy whine, trying to swallow down the nausea. Once inside Isaac’s apartment, Oliver beelined for the guest bathroom.

Isaac took a second to grab a rag from his kitchen and a water bottle before going after Oliver.

In less than a minute, Oliver had thrown up in the toilet and was now gagging harshly over the porcelain bowl.

Isaac wet the rag with cold water from the sink before crouching down beside Oliver, wiping down his sweaty nape. “Just get it up. It’ll be better when you’re empty.”

Oliver continued to gag and puke, spitting the taste of his overly-sweetened coffee out of his mouth. Isaac cupped his forehead, hissing at the raging heat. I should take his temperature, the blonde thought to himself.

Oliver barely had time to breathe before more puke jetted from his mouth. Finally, though, he stopped and was left sweaty and panting for air.

Isaac wiped the puke off his best friend’s chin before coaxing Oliver to sit back against the wall and wiping down the black-haired boy’s face with the cold rag.

Oliver’s headache was worse. His body was aching even more. And his stomach—oh God, his stomach—felt like someone had run it through a fucking garbage disposal or something.

There was so much pain, and Oliver even felt a little close to tears because of how bad it hurt. Is this how it felt for Isaac?! And for all the other poor souls that this flu had gotten to?!

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes. You sweat though these,” Isaac said softly wiping the cold rag down Oliver’s flushed cheek before standing and setting the rag on the counter. He opened the water bottle, handed it to Oliver, said “small sips”, and then left.

Oliver blinked heavily, everything seeming hazy in his slight delirium. He wanted to sleep. He just really wanted to sleep.

Isaac came back with some clothes in his hands. He helped Oliver take off his shirt and pants, leaving him in boxers before helping him put on a plain white t-shirt and some shorts.

Isaac had also brought a thermometer and held it up to Oliver, saying “Under the tongue.”

Oliver, dazed and sleepy, obeyed. Isaac watched the number climb before it beeped and stopped at 101.7 °F. Shit.

Isaac sighed and took the thermometer, setting it on the bathroom counter. Then he crouched in front of Oliver again.

“I feel like shit,” Oliver groaned. “Was yours this bad?”

Isaac knew his wasn’t. Oliver had the stomach of a five-year-old, and Isaac had known that this stomach flu was going to hit his best friend hard eventually.

Instead of answering, Isaac grabbed Oliver’s arms and said, “You need to be in bed.”

Oliver allowed himself to be pulled up, but as soon as he was on his feet it felt as if all of his blood went rushing down and his head felt detached from his body. He swayed, feeling the world tilting to the side before Isaac’s arms wrapped around him.

“Holy shit,” he heard the blonde curse, and then Isaac lowered himself and Oliver to the floor since, clearly, Oliver couldn’t even stand.

Oliver felt so dizzy. So sleepy.

Suddenly, one of Isaac’s arms was under his knees while Isaac’s other arm went around his shoulders, and the blonde scooped him up bridal style.

It was no struggle; Oliver weighed practically nothing and Isaac may not have still been a jock like he was in high school, but he was still strong.

Oliver closed his eyes, pressing his temple to Isaac’s shoulder to try and ease the throbbing pain in his head.

In a matter of seconds, Oliver was laid down on a bed and he felt sheets pulled over him.

He didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear moving around and suddenly there was something wet and cold on his forehead. More moving around, the lights in the room darkened behind his lids, something was set down next to the bed, and then Oliver felt Isaac climb into the bed next to him.

He opened his eyes then and looked to his side. Isaac was laying down next to him, and Oliver frowned. “I might throw up on you,” he mumbled, making Isaac smile and laugh.

“Y’know what? I’ll take the risk.” The blonde got comfortable on his side, scooting closer to Oliver, and then his hand flattened on Oliver’s stomach.

The irony was not lost on either of them, and the second they locked eyes they both smiled and laughed.

When Isaac’s hand started to rub gently, Oliver felt his cheeks grow warm and he hoped that Isaac didn’t notice.

Isaac’s head wound up on Oliver’s shoulder, and Oliver couldn’t help but think about how warm and comfortable he was. Finally, he could sleep. And as he allowed himself to drift off, three words kept playing over and over in his head:

I love you.

#isaac #oliver #fluff #cuddles #dudes - this ending has me squealing #thebrilliantidiots #these two i swear #I'mma go die from cuteness overload now. Bye bye!😊

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rockingrobin69 · 2 years ago

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In celebration of joy

This is actually a snip from a wip (700 words) and also a ‘hey I’m alive’ and most of all, it’s a (humble!!) present for my pride and joy @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm who is out there being the best in us etc. etc. Joy, I love you, I love you, I love you. And so does this special lil guy.

The coffee machine went on a strike on a Tuesday, roughly around nine. A big notice all over the screen, CHANGE FILTER that didn’t relent no matter what Draco attempted. He changed the damn filter, three times. Changed the water. Emptied and reloaded the bean tray. Nothing worked: the notice remained, and the smell of coffee pervaded the kitchenette, made his eyes water.

The manual was in Italian, which, according to his CV, shouldn’t be a problem. Apparently there was a world of difference between chatting up pretty boys in the Piazza and fine mechanics. Apparently, Draco was equally rubbish at both. And the coffee machine, blast it to high hell, kept at its pouty, childish rebellion.

He didn’t even like coffee. Did have an espresso every once in a while, half in punishment, half-reward. Drowned it in sugar until no flavour was discernible, went on a glucose-fuelled paperwork rampage, terrorising the office till the inevitable crash. But he liked making coffees for some of the others—liked being trusted with a task he could perform. The coffee machine was tricky, needed a gentle touch: the frothing settings, the roast, all had to be perfectly calibrated. Usually he had it. And now, change filter, and no coffee in sight.

He's going to have to go back to Harry empty-handed.

Going to have to look him in the eye and say, hey, so, remember when you hired me, all that long month ago, and I promised I’d do my very best? Right. Yes, failed at the most basic of tasks today, what else could you expect. Also, please don’t fire me.

Draco rubbed his eyes a little harsher than recommended. Bore the angry flashes behind his eyelids, tried to breathe. Why must everything be a panic, why couldn’t he just. Be normal about this. Be a man, not a muppet, for a change.

Opened his eyes, grit his teeth till the world un-blurried itself. Took a deep breath. Went back to the manual, skimmed till he found the right place, and tried again.

In the end he ran down to the Costa across the street. Took him exactly forty minutes and twenty-three seconds to get back at Harry’s office door, red-faced and soaking wet, but with the flat white he’s promised. Tried not to look too smug about it as he sauntered through, gently laid the cup (still hot, he thought, he hoped) next to Harry’s computer screen.

“Thanks,” murmured Harry, not even looking up from the folder open on his desk. “Mm, that smells nice.”

Draco allowed himself a little smile. “No problem, Mr. Potter.”

As he knew, that zapped Harry’s attention back to him. He flushed so easily, and so sweetly too, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose for an excuse to use his hands. Calling Harry Mr. Potter always had the same effect—sometimes, when Draco was feeling rather cheeky, he even threw in a Sir, just to watch him flail.

“Erm. Yes. Thank you, Draco. Are—why are you wet?”

“Hmm?” looked down, remembered. “Oh. It’s raining again.”

Harry turned his head to the window, stared for a moment. “Yes,” he said, chewing on a poor lower lip. “Yes, it is indeed.”

Winding Harry up sure was one of the biggest perks of the job, but Draco actually had work to do. “Anything else, Mr. Potter?” (couldn’t help himself, he just couldn’t). “If you wouldn’t mind, the paperwork for Mr. Dougherty’s case requires further attention.”

More of the fidgeting. “No, no, that’s quite all right. Certainly, er, important that you get to it.” Draco nodded, and was already at the door when he heard, “Wait, why does the cup say Costa?”

Rushed out of Harry’s office without closing the door behind him. The prat never did anyway. Went back to the kitchenette, opened the manual, and a pocket dictionary from the shop right next door to blasted Costa. (The Dougherty dossier was compiled and completed two days ago. Not his fault he was good at his job). Stared the machine down until it bowed before him, spilled its mechanical guts.

He’ll get it, eventually. He thought. He hoped.

#drarry wip #office draco for the win #rockingrobin69 #everything is for joy always but this one is also.

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xydamcg · 2 years ago

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Newest member 3

Ghost x f character

Cw: character minor injury, blood, violence

Summary: Two wrongs don’t make it right.

Pt 1 Pt 2

“Comms check..” Tyliu sighed as she adjusted her short dress for the hundredth time in the last hour. “Copy.” Ghost grumbled in her ear, she nodded even though he couldn’t see her which she thought. His eyes in fact followed her around the crowded room from where he stood. Their mission was to obtain information about a missile location that was being held by a warlord and the only way to do that was to get upstairs which was blocked by guards. The warlord Rassan Brudda had been hosting a grand party that Price managed to nab invitation to under Alias’ for her and ghost. She was posing as Jasmine Kylev and her happy husband Scott Kylev (Ghost), recently married no kids just wanting to party with a big warlord. Ty hummed as she walked the perimeter of the dance floor a glass of wine in her hand, her long obsidian hair was down to her waist. It kept getting caught on the sequins on her green dress. Laswell picked out the attire, she could of been kinder to Ty when doing so. “The guards at the stairs switch every ten minutes you have three until they switch and a two minute window to get into those double doors unseen.” Ghost spoke into the comm, Ty’s eyes drifting to the stairs case where the guards stood post. “These stairs are the only way up?” She asked hiding her lips behind her glass. “Unless you can fly.” He remarked causing her to raise her head seeing the upper level over head.

She admired the crystal chandeliers trying to think of a quick distraction. "Watch my six.." she told him quietly as she took a deep breath, why was she so nervous all of a sudden. She felt her stomach twist with nervousness. "Eyes on you." As she looked out at the sea of people she immediately spotted the black ski mask worn by none other than ghost himself. She sent his a quick wink before she stumbled toward the guards resting at the bottom of the stairs. Tripping over her own feet she dropped the glass that use to hold her wine, the glass shattering against the ground. "Oh gosh silly me.." she slurred as she grabbed onto a guard for support. "These shoes are killing me." she groaned as she lifted her leg to take off her heel, the guard holding her up as she put her weight against him. "Yeshi, break time. Sit her on the steps until the next guards come." the other guard spoke as a waiter cleaned the floor. "here you sit right here, I'll send someone to come help you to your car." he told her as she giggled still removing her shoes. "You're so kind! Your boss will be hearing about this, promotion time!" Ty cheered as she patted his chest with a stupid grin.

He shook his head at her before heading off with his buddy, finally getting her heels off she pushed them to the side before carefully standing and checking around for any extra eyes. Finding none she moved up the large staircase quickly and crept through the double doors finding Rasaan’s office at the end of a different hall–thankfully no gaurds.

Entering his office she cleared the room before making her way to his desktop computer, removing one of her earrings she inserted into the USB port as if it was a flash drive. The earring blinked as it bypassed the security system unlocking the computer. “Ghost I'm in, how are we looking down there?” she questioned as she started opening files so the flash drive could pick up any encryptions. “Smooth sailing down here, the next set of guards are taking their positions. ETA for you?” He informed her. Her eyes drifted to the loading bar at the bottom of the screen. “Two minutes max..” she hummed her fingers flying around the keyboard as she pulled up emails and manually installed a virus so Rasaan’s computer would crash as soon as she logged out. They wouldn't know what happened and when they did know she'd be long gone. “Make it a minute, I think they know something is up.” Ghost ordered, the edge in his voice meant something was up. Ty cursed softly as she looked at the loading bar slowly inch to 100%, she was starting to sweat profusely, her anxiety triggering her leg to

bounce. “You have two ops inbound on your position.” Ghost notified, the download wasn’t finished yet. She needed more time, standing from the chair she rummaged through the desk drawers finding a letter opener. It would have to do for now as a weapon, tip toeing to the doors she pressed her back to the wall as they opened. Ty took a steady breath as two guards entered the room, they hadn't noticed her yet as she was concealed behind the open door. “Avery how copy?” Ghost called out in her ear causing one of the guards to look in her direction. Damn it Ghost! Tyliu kicked the door closed as she lunged forward, taking his arm reaching for his gun and kneeing him in the crotch, her arm whipping forward as she threw the letter opener into the other guard's throat. Ty let out a grunt as she felt a punch land to her gut nearly knocking the wind out of her. She quickly tugged the guard’s arm behind her back and looped her arm around his neck while collecting his jaw in her grasp. The momentum of her twisting her body and pulling his head in the opposite direction let a sickening crack noise echo into the room. Dropping his body with a pant she grimaced as pain shot from her torso, she struggled to catch her breath she moved back toward the desk. Her prayer was answered as she saw the flashdrive was at 100%.

“Ghost..where are you?” she asked, pulling the earring from the computer and placing it back into her ear. “By the stairs waiting, but they know something isn’t not right. You have two more in bound. You need to get out of there Avery before they call back up.” He seemed more on edge than earlier, Ty quickly looked around for either an exit or a hiding spot. Finding no place to hide she headed for the nearby window quickly sticking her head out. “Get the car ready.” She told him as she climbed out onto the small ledge. Ty pushed the door closed with her foot before hearing ghost crackling over the comm. “What are you going to do?” Rolling her eyes, she balanced herself carefully along the side of the building. “Ghost please..” she begged, feeling gravity pull at her, while the ground opened its arms to catch her.

Getting no response she sighed in relief, she didn't need him throwing her off focus, the ledge barely held her full foot. And she really didn't want to be a pancake. Seeing a ladder that led from the roof to the ground she inched to the edge of the ledge before dragging her sweaty palms along her sharp sequin dress. Calming her nerves she jumped, just barely latching onto the metal bars. Quickly descending the ladder she landed crouched in the grass peeking out toward the congested driveway where Ghost waited. Ty noticed no guards outside quite yet so she sprinted across the large yawn only to make it halfway across before the main doors to Rassan’s home flew open revealing guards yelling and pointing at her. “Shit!’ she groaned as she ran faster, sliding over the hood of a parked car just in enough time to miss bullets whizzing by her head.

Ghost pulled up in front of her as she landed on the other side, throwing the passenger door open with ease. “Get in!’ He didn't have to tell her twice as she dived into the vehicle. Ghost didn’t miss a beat as he pulled off leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. The car door snapped closed as he made a sharp right turn off the property. Ty panted as she laid across the low middle console, her head resting in Ghost’s lap, she hadn’t moved since she dived into the car. “You alright?” Ghost questioned looking down at her for a moment before the road once more. Ty shook her head causing him to glance down at her for a split second. “Can’t c-catch my b-breath.” she stuttered as her breaths grew uneven. Ghost shifted slightly under her, gently pushing her long silky hair from her flushed face. He rolled down the passenger window to get her to cool down. “Ty you gotta relax, focusing on calming down.” He instructed as he placed his clothed hand on her cheek, closing her eyes where she focused her mind elsewhere. She focused on the cool wind from the open window, how it ruffled her hair and cooled down her hot body, she focused on ghost’s thighs and the warmth they emitted.

And the last thing her mind was on was Ghost’s finger gently rolling over her cheek. Up, IN, Down, OUT. Soon enough her breathing had evened out and even slowed signaling she was asleep or getting there. “Avery..” Ghost called down to the woman in his lap. “Hm?” She hummed softly before she opened her eyes, seeing him looking at the road. “Better?” he asked. As her senses came back she realized where exactly she was. There was no way she was in his lap right now?! Ty slowly sat up and positioned herself in the passenger seat as she rolled the window up to keep her hair from blowing everywhere. “Yes.” she confirmed as she crossed her arms over her chest, her face twisting up as the pain from earlier came back. That fucker punched her hard, Ghost seemed to notice as he eyed her for a moment. “Are you hurt?”

Yeah about a couple things. “No, just sore from nearly being obliterated by a single punch.” She said smartly, she hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. He didn’t respond, which didn’t help with her incoming annoyance. “Why’d you do that?” She asked as she glared out the window. “What?” he asked looking over at her, quickly turning her toward him to catch her gaze she sneered. “Why didn’t you listen to my order not to breach yet last night?” She specified causing Ghost to place his other hand on the wheel, dropping the other. “I told you why already. Do you need me to say it again?” Of course she didn’t, it just didn’t make sense defying her order when the whole squadron was behind them; counting on them.

“Look I've lost some good people in the past because an idiot soldier like you didn't want to listen to orders I've given them, I don't just give them because I can but because I don't want to have our asses handed to us out in the field. So excuse me Mr. Macho man if it hurts your ego to be ordered around by someone on the same level as you.” Ty grumbled angrily, her eyes burning holes into the side of that stupid mask he was wearing. “You’re a serious fucking brat Avery you know that?” He asked, causing her mouth to drop. “Excuse me?” she asked in disbelief.

“You heard me loud and clear Lieutenant, a brat. You’re so far up your own ass you wouldn’t be able to tell day from night. You think you’re the only person to lose good people? You’re not. Why do you think I go alone? I don't need another one of my men’s deaths on my conscience either. So lay off Avey, I have my reasons for how I do things out there.” She didn’t reply, simply pulling her eyes from him and back to the window. She hadn't expected to get any response out of him let alone one with such rage, she guessed this time she was in the wrong, saying something that was out of line and inconsiderate and ignorant.

@ellouisa17

#@ellouisa17 #cod mw22 #ghost #simon riley #soap mw2 #captain price #series #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #141 #modern warfare #original content

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boringblogxtreme · 10 months ago

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Boring Blog Episode 2

Hello ladies and gentlemen. So this unexciting blog continues my never ending waffling about computers that no-one really gives a flying fuck about.

So as I mentioned last issue. I bought a new Dell Inspiron 3525 laptop before Christmas. I ran Linux on it for two weeks and then I returned it to windows 11 which its where it is currently.

A friend asked me was I annoyed at Windows yet and to be honest I really don’t have any major issues. Do I miss Linux well lets just admit I can’t say I miss at all.

So what nonsense have I been messing with. Well as the Macintosh 128k was 40 I was going to do something Mac based. So I could have downloaded Basilisk II/Sheepshaver but nope. Mini Vmac would be appropriate given the Mac in question, once again no.

I was playing with VirtualBox trying to get it to run Mac OS 12.0 (Monterey) I was following various guides and after 5 hours of playing about I still couldn’t get it beyond the EFI boot kept failing.

I had tried many different fixes and it really wasn’t working. I then moved to VMWare Player. Originally I went to version 15 but upon changing the vmx file to apply the fix it crashed the player and refused to let it go on.

I found WMware Player could be updated to version 17 which I did and the fix allowed the installer to work. It then took forever to install. Then I let it upgrade to 12.7.3 which took another 2 hours.

This was a project I intended to be an hour ended up being over 9 hours playing with various virtual machines.

Now I have managed to install WriteRoom 3.21 on it also now considering this is a Ryzen 7 5700U system. It runs Monterey about the speed of a Pentium. You can literally type and watch the delay as the buffer updates.

So 9 hours for the slowest VM in history. That’s with it set at 8GB Ram and using 4 processor cores. Ridiculous.

Also while I was playing with emulators. I have been playing with PCSX2 (Playstation 2) emulator and have been playing most of the Burnout franchise.

It works fine but when I tried using EPSXE (PlayStation 1) what a nightmare as half of the plug-ins just refused to work.

I did try Xemu(Xbox emulator) I did try running Project Gotham 3 Racing but it wouldn’t even get above 15 frames per second making the game unplayable.

Given this is a Ryzen 7 I was thinking what the hell does it need to get it working better. My suspicion is the Vega 8 graphics card is just not up to snuff. Once again potato graphics cards used in laptops.

I was going to try Xenia (XBOX 360 emu) but given how bad the Xbox emu was I thought against it.

So one day I will get a decent desktop and run a decent video card but I am sure that’s going to be a cold day in hell before that.

Any way that’s enough waffle for now until next time … Take care

#waffle #macintosh 40th #ryzen 7 #vmware #virtualbox #pcsx2 #emulators #emulation

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3dsangel · 11 months ago

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The poll is over!! heres the answer!!

warning! under the cut is not just the answer, but the explanation to all other options in the poll!

Warning: option 2 mentions injury and hospitals!

The answer that did NOT apply to me was Option 4: close IRL friend is birthday twin!

A mutual mentioned that I might've talked about it before andd I probably did! My close IRL friend is actually one day off from my birthday! crazy considering how similar our lives are... but the one day difference does show off how insanely different our lives are too :D

---

And Now to explain all the other options!

Option 1: favorite flavor is MATCHA

Matcha has become a favorite of mine slowly in the past couple years, and now I've gotten to the point where its my everything flavor. its so so good.

If you didn't vote this one it was probably cuz well. idk i think of myself as a matcha guy. also i have a tendency to like green characters <_<

Option 2: has been in a helicopter TWICE

(warning! this portion mentions injury and hospitals!)

Now the first time I was in a helicopter was interesting. I wondered for the longest time why, of all parts of the car crash I had at an early age that I remember that I DIDN'T remember the impact and ride to the hospital. It was because I lost consciousness! Duh . The accident happened too far for an ambulance to pick me and my brother up, so a helicopter had to lift us to the ER.

The second time was for a rather tame reason. My mom was dating a helicopter pilot, so my family got a tour of our hometown in a helicopter he gets to pilot.

Option 3: is near-sighted

Yup! My near-sightedness requires me to wear my glasses even while using the computer! I can't see my drawings well at all while drawing without my glasses! However I wasn't always blind...

I remember in elementary school my sight was perfect! Then at some point in middle school my vision slowly declined, and doctor visits declined to pay any mind to the fact that I struggled with vision tests. I was in heavy denial during it all, too. I thought everyones vision just got really blurry at far distances. (far meaning. like 5 feet from your face.)

Option 5: grew up by the beach

(I was so surprised to see this one winning! I guess I do seem a more foresty type of person)

Not to get too in-detail about this one, but yes! I grew up in an area where I was only a few steps away from my beach! However my schools.. along most everything else. . . were all half an hour away. wonderful -_-''

Option 6: mains heavy in both splatoon AND tf2

the heavy splatling is my ride or die. can't live without it. I try other variants of the splatling and i recoil. heavy splatling my everythang forever. Whenever I DO hop on tf2 I'm always playing the Heavy. guy is so awesome and fun to play as ^_^

Option 7: Loves magnolia trees

yes! They have a sentimental significance to me. I also have a beautiful magnolia tree that stands tall right outside my window, so I always get to look at it when I take a break from my computer.

This was so fun!! Hope this was fun to read :D

#franversation

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ageless-aislynn · 1 year ago

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Okay, so this just feels not very fair. I was finishing up my N7 Day Andromeda vid and just needed to capture a couple more scenes. But even though the recording seemed to start as usual, there was just nothing there when it was done. Then I realized that the Game Bar itself wouldn't actually even load. None of the fixes for that have, you know, fixed it. (The Game Bar was working as of Nov 2 because that's the last day I have any captures recorded.)

Digging around, I discovered that my computer is throwing errors left and right but just managing to correct from them and not crashing. Rather, not crashing yet. Clearly something is STILL wrong, despite having acted normal in the month since it was Blue Screening like mad before I reinstalled Windows.

But. Here's the kicker. My dad's computer started Blue Screening right after I got mine working again. The difference, though, is that it's very difficult to get his to restart. If I can get it to come on once more, I'm going to try to completely reinstall its Windows but I don't honestly know if it's going to be able to or not. This thing is pretty fried and, of course, is *just* past its warranty. 😣

I was already assuming we're going to have to replace his computer but now mine, which is much older, is starting to circle the ol' drain. He told me tonight to focus on replacing mine and not to worry about his. He's been able to pretty much do the stuff he likes to do on the computer via our tv's Fire Stick so he said he's not missing out on anything. But still. I'll feel awful if he gets bumped back because of me since he's already not had a reliable computer for the past 3 weeks.

That said, in my 20 some years of having computers, I've never before had BOTH of them in danger of being bricked at the same time. This just sucks so much! I just want to be able to make my silly little videos and to try to get my WIPs done with NaNo. I was actually doing pretty good juggling both up until now.

Ah well. I'm just venting, sorry. I may be gone again, depending on how things go. However, I did schedule my Andromeda video to post on Youtube on November 7 whether I'm able to get here or not. Will post it here and on my AO3 when I can. Even though it's not completely the vision I had for it, I still like how it turned out. Surprisingly, it's not a shipper vid this time. And probably nobody thought I could MAKE a character study that didn't have even a hint of shippiness, right? 🤷‍♀️😉

*sigh* I'm trying not to let this get me down but dang if I'm not just tired of pretending I have any idea how to fix all of these issues. I can't find any place decent to take them for repairs that doesn't want a ton of money just to reinstall Windows and since I can do that, I don't want to pay somebody else for something I can do for free, you know? But I'm getting to the point where I think they've either got some sort of hardware issues that just reinstalling can't fix or I'm just borking up the reinstall somehow. I don't know. I'm so, so, so tired of it.

Love you, friends. Hope you're doing well and that I'll see you again soon. 💖

#about me #mass effect: andromeda #i just wanted to take part in n7 day is that so wrong?#ais has a sad #ais has a heckin' frustrate #ais has two borked up computers and can't figure out why #they're not infected with malware or viruses #they're not networked together #one is windows 10 one is win 11 #one is wifi one is ethernet #and despite both blue screening they have different error messages pointing to different causes #just what the heck man #i'm so tired of this #i just want my computer back #i've loved this one #it's set up just the way i want it and i don't know if i can get another one like it #love you frens #ageless aislynn

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captainericvgc · 2 years ago

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EPISODE II: CAPTAIN ERIC VS THE RUINOUS RULESET

I’d been planning to write about my thoughts about the Global Competition I that happened last weekend only for another GC to be up next weekend. This article also got eaten by when my computer restarted without my permission so thanks for that Windows update. The Team For the GC I used Clover Bell’s BaxBalance team. The only difference is Baxcalibur actually has Icicle Spear instead of Icicle Crash and I actually played a few games on Showdown with the team before I realized the mistake. I’m not going to go too much into detail about the team like a normally would because I didn’t build it! Credit goes to Clover Bell and you can check his explanation of the team here. I will say what drew me to this team as opposed to the other ones featured was Palafin. I’d seen Gavin Michaels use it to some success and it had been doing work in online tours. I never thought to use it because I didn’t like how telegraphed you had to be switching it out to bring in the Hero form but having watched EUIC, I could definitely stand to use Zero form more for damage. Results I went 10-4 in the GC which wasn’t bad and honestly if I did get so completely bamboozled by a Crabominable in one game and if Baxcalibur gets hit by Heat Wave instead of dodging it forever (which would’ve given me a Thermal Exchange boost which would have secured a knockout) I probably could’ve gone 12-2. Between friends having birthdays and meeting with my family for Easter I didn’t play all 45 matches which is kind of disappointing. I don’t think I would’ve been on Three Things 1. Practice Practice Practice I just straight up do not play enough Pokemon Showdown to be successful consistently at a high level. I did maybe 15-20 unfocused matches with the team before the GC. I won all but maybe 2 or 3 of them but I can’t tell you what my gameplan was on Team Preview or what my endgame plans were. I just was winging it way too much. I need to have the team flowcharted better especially since it seems like the core this team is built around is going to be dominant format in Reg C for a while. 2. Need More Damage One thing I really like about this team is that it is really hard to OHKO any of them and with even my average positioning skills, I always felt I had good options in the mid-to-end game to pivot too. That said the draw back to this is I felt like dealing damage was pulling teeth. Flutter Mane missed a KO on an enemy Flutter by maybe 2hp that could’ve cost me a match if the opponent didn’t time out. Palafin hits way harder than I thought it did and would and I don’t mind that Arcanine doesn’t hit so hard because it’s more of a support mon anyways, but I need more out of Flutter Mane and Baxcalibur and that’s something I’m going to test before this Global Competition which leads to... 3. Is Bax Him? I don’t feel I bring or use Baxcalibur that much anyways and I wonder if something better would go into that slot. I’ve considered Roaring Moon, Iron Hands and Kingambit for possible swaps. To be fair, Baxcalibur is great because of the immunity to burns keeps his attack rocking. It may be worth it to switch Loaded Dice for Clear Amulet and make a Dragon Dance and make him more imposing that way. Iron Hands can buy me turns with Fake Out and a slow Volt Switch to get Palafin in quicker and safer than having to do two hard switches or wait for a KO and then I can bring it back in immediate. Roaring Moon as an option would give me a faster attacker and the Protosythensis/Booster Energy/Acrobatics combination deals alot of damage. It could also in theory provide speed control with Tailwind or Damage mitigation with Breaking Swipe. Kingambit is a solid defensive Pokemon and would discourage opposing Intimidate users which would help make Palafin’s job easier and helps with enemy Flutter Mane. Up Next I’m competing in BauerdadVGC’s weekly tournament on Tuesday April 18th to close out my 32nd year on this planet. Then it’s gonna be a mad dash to trying to confirm my team for the GC on April 21-23.

#pokemon #vgc #vgc23 #vgc2023 #baxcalibur #flutter mane #amoonguss #arcanine #ting lu #palafin #iron hands #roaring moon #kingambit #article

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bibliophiledragon · 2 months ago

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One of the weirdest dreams I had

I don't dream often, but one time I had a rather... odd dream, basically I was installing a program on my computer in the dream and the computer simply crashed, I attempted to turn it on again and it said it was in recovery mode, but... I realized some strange messages started to appear, messages basically related to games I played before, things like " oh, you played this one a lot, I remember. " or " Well, that was unlucky...", it even showed a picture of wolves, because I was really into wolfquest, still am really, so that probably made it into my subconscious, my brain probably just thought of that when it thought of games I recently played.

My dream self decided to let the computer finish recovery mode, and I woke up, the weirdest thing was that the next day, it seemed like the dream continued, a few hours after judging by how bright it was outside my window compared to previously.

I decided to see if the computer was working but... things had changed a bit, it started normally, but the wallpaper was different and there was now a message: " No one else will tell you this, but please listen to what I have to say. "

My dream self just shut the computer off then, "message rejected." Was what I thought before I woke up.

A bit funny that my dream self acted like I would in a situation like that, just " nope, I don't want to become the protagonist of a horror novel, no thank you."

Still, odd dream.

#dreams #computer #weird dreams

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netscapenavigator-official · 6 months ago

Note

I FEEL you so hard. Have had my iphone XR since 2019 and it works ok (battery life is still ok and it doesn’t crash ALL the time) but i can’t wait until it’s practically a brick so i can switch to an android without guilt. The faceID kills me and I’m practically never using it (got a thin scratch in the glass above the selfie camera 2 years ago, so i have to make sure no light is randomly bouncing on the scratch when I unlock my phone, or the halo blocks everything) and it’s like having a babysitter version of a phone. I’m not allowed to use any applications not vetoed by Apple Inc. and almost all features are so much less customisable… sure, and iphone is great in some regards (5S and XR have been surprisingly good models in my experience) but for the past 3 years I’ve felt soo limited by Apple’s philosophy

Well, good news (or bad depending on how long you want to keep that phone), the iPhone XR is most likely next on Apple's chopping block of support. The iPhone 8, 8 Plus, and X were all dropped with the release of iOS 17, last September. If Apple keeps on their linear path, this September, with the release of iOS 18, the iPhone XR, XS, and XS Max will all be dropped. Apple usually gives phones two years of security patches after they're dropped, however, so it depends on what you consider a "brick." I, unfortunately, have an iPhone 12-series phone, so I've got at least two more years of updates left, four if I wanna push my goal to the security update deadline.

Also, for the Face ID issue, idk if you've tried this, but try doing a rescan. Go to Settings > Face ID & Passcode, and click "Set Up an Alternate Appearance." I don't know if all iPhones have this. I think they may have added it for the iPhone 12-series and newer, but if you have it, give it a try and see if it helps smooth over Face ID. By teaching it what you look like with the scratch interfering, it may be able to better compensate for it. If you're phone doesn't have that, you could always try tapping "Reset Face ID," too, to force it to re-scan. Although, with damaged glass, I don't know if it'll let you.

The App Store is another point of contention for me, too. I have a 2011 MacBook Pro that's been "obsolete" since 2017, when macOS High Sierra stopped getting updates. I wiped the drive clean and put Linux (Zorin OS) on it, and it's actually been really great. It runs like it's native. The problem, though, is that using Linux has opened my eyes to just how few free & open-source apps support iOS because of Apple's bullshit App Store requirements and $99/year developer fee. A lot of the apps I use on this computer are great, and they support Android, but they don't support iOS. It's a real bummer, and I'm just tired, in general, of not being able to do the things I want with my phone, so unless Apple decides to get really cool, really fast, this will certainly be my last iPhone. (Especially with iOS 18 coming with RCS Message support, almost entirely eliminating the difference between iMessage and Android to iPhone messaging.)

And I'm not trying to shit on Apple too much because Google is worse in plenty of ways. I have plenty of Apple devices from an iPhone, to an M1 iMac, to an Apple TV, etc. Apple makes really good hardware (with the exception of its repairability). Their problem is that they hold themselves back with their own greed. We've seen it with plenty of devices. The Apple Vision Pro is a great example. Apple thought they could use their brand image to make the device successful, but they recently had to cut production in half because demand fell off so steeply. If VisionOS was open and easy to develop for, then I'm sure it could've been a success, but Apple's desire to control everything has gotten in its way. I mean, who wants to develop for a $3,500 headset where you have to pay $99/year for a developer account, and then $400 for an Apple Vision Proprietary Port to USB-C adapter?

The Mac is honestly in the same boat. I saw a YouTube Short of a developer explaining why they dropped Mac Support, and it makes sense. To make an app on each platform you have to:

Windows

Have a PC

Code the app in any application of your preference.

Compile for Windows

Linux

Have the same PC

Code the app in any application of your preference.

Start a Virtual Machine and open the project inside it.

Compile for Linux

macOS

Buy Mac hardware ($600 for the base model Mac mini)

Pay Apple $99/year for a developer account

Code the app in Apple's Xcode

Acquire and add a Code Signature to the app so that macOS doesn't throw a fake error when attempting to open it.

Compile for macOS

If you want to upload your app to the Mac App Store, get Apple's blessing that it follows their guidelines.

Wait at least 24-hours before updates are published so Apple can approve them.

Give Apple a 15-30% cut of any money made from the App.

I used to thing that macOS had shit app support because developers just didn't want to support a niche market, but now I know it's the opposite that is true. Even if Linux has an even smaller market, it's as easy as clicking another button or booting up a free Virtual Machine and then clicking said button. You can use all the same hardware and programs. It's literally free to compile for Linux, and it expands your user base.

Meanwhile, for macOS, you have to spend a minimum of $700 just to make the app. Then, if you're not an A-List developer, you have to give a portion of your proceeds to Apple so you can put your app on their App Store for the exposure. Who the fuck would wanna do that?

Apple's death grip on their products worked for the iPhone and Apple Watch because they were both relatively new products to their respective category, but in a market where technology is starting to plateau, I'm simply no longer interested in supporting this behavior, mostly because I want to be able to use my favorite FOSS on all my devices, not just the non-Apple ones.

#rambles #Netscape Results #apple #ios #iphone #android #google #fuck apple

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russiandoll-from-brooklyn · 3 years ago

Text

Just Once - Part 2

Title: Just Once - Part 2

Some of y'all were asking for Part 2 of Just Once so here ya go! This picks up right after the first story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!reader

Summary: Grief and loneliness got the best of you last night. Your friendship with Tony was too precious to risk, and now all you want to do is move on. But what happens when the other party doesn't want to forget?

Warnings: smut, language, (technically) cheating, friends to lovers, mentions of past canon trauma, oral (f receiving), protected sex

Word Count: 5.1k

[Starts out sweet and all about tony x reader friendship, then turns into steamy Tony smut. Table sex, included. 😳]

---

Thump, thump, thump.

Your feet hit the pavement rhythmically as you jog your normal morning route. It’s a misty Seattle morning, and the world is still quiet. The sun is rising sleepily, beginning to bathe the world in gold. All is well.

Except. It isn’t.

You turn the block corner, and your apartment comes into sight. You take a glance down at your watch.

42 minutes.

That’s how long ago you had quietly slipped out of your apartment for your morning run. That’s how long it had been since your eyes shot open and you remembered the events of last night, rushing into your mind, all at once like a tsunami. You had turned your head to find Tony still asleep beside you in the bed. One leg sticking out of the messy sheets and his face buried in the pillow. Your pillow.

You had stared at him in disbelief, half-expecting him to disintegrate into a fleeting figment of your imagination. You had rubbed your eyes, trying to clear the haze.

Nope. Still there.

You silently curse yourself and your stupidity (see: weakness in the face of sexual temptation) for the 50th time this morning as you approach the brick building. Perhaps, when you reenter your apartment, Tony will be gone, and this will all have just been a bad trip — or something of the like.

Before you even open the door, the smell of frying bacon reaches your nose. You step inside and are greeted by a peculiar sight.

Tony Stark, clad in nothing but a pair of dark jeans, is buzzing about your small kitchenette. Simultaneously, there are eggs being flipped over-easy on the stovetop, orange juice being procured from the open fridge, bacon sizzling happily in a pan, and toast being buttered. You stand in amazement for a few seconds, processing the scene before you. The wonderful aroma of the all-American breakfast makes you mouth water.

“Y/N! Hey!” Tony exclaims when he sees you.

You slide onto a stool at the bar top, overlooking the controlled chaos unfolding in the kitchen area. Tony truly has remarkable skill when it comes to multitasking. You guess, all that time in the suit, operating about twenty computing systems at once, was good practice.

“Wow. Breakfast?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you cook?”

He scoffs, shooting you a brief smile before turning away to rapidly crack some black pepper onto the eggs.

“Cooking is easy. People think it’s a skill, but really it’s just planning, timing it out. It’s like assembling anything else. You just do the parts in order, trying not to break any yolks.”

You roll your eyes sarcastically at the classic “Tony” response.

Suddenly, all the components come crashing together, and Tony is setting down two perfectly assembled breakfast plates on the bar top — complete with a glass of orange juice for each of you. It looks delicious; it’s been way too long since you had a proper breakfast. Meaning, a breakfast that wasn’t cereal, a protein bar, or a bowl of sad, pale, scrambled eggs. You thank Tony as he pulls up the other stool to sit across from you.

“Dig in,” he says cheerfully, raising his fork. “Good run this morning?”

You nod, taking a big gulp of orange juice.

“Yeah, I heard you leaving,” Tony continues mindlessly. “Kind of weird waking up to an empty bed after a night like that. I finally know what it feels like to be on the other side, I guess.”

You nearly spit out your bite of toast. And just like that, reality comes crashing back down to earth. For a brief moment, it had felt like things could possibly come out normal on the other side. You and Tony could go back to being perfectly normal best friends.

How ignorant.

“What?” you remark incredulously.

You’re on the verge of laughter, partially out of amusement but mostly out of bewildered embarrassment.

Tony gives you his award-winning “I’m innocent!” raised-eyebrow expression. You suddenly become acutely aware of the situation. Tony Stark is sitting in your kitchen, shirtless, serving you breakfast. After you spent a far-from-platonic night rolling around your sheets together. You want to slap yourself.

“I’m talking about the incredible sex we had last night. And then, you leaving me alone before sunrise,” Tony explains casually, pushing your buttons further. “That's usually my play.”

He looks up at you, expecting a playful quip in return. Instead, you just slowly set down the fork you had been gripping.

“Tony,” you begin, seriously and calmly. “Let’s not talk about it. It was one night, and it won’t happen again. It was just once. We gave into the moment, but we shouldn’t-“

“The moment?” Tony suddenly blurts out, interrupting you. You purse your lips, surprised by the new and unexpected edge of anger in his voice. “God. Y/N. The moment, huh? You’re really just going to shrink it down to that. Just a moment.”

You stare at him, confused. Tony’s big brown eyes hold yours with an intensity. It's amazing how fast his sarcastic, playful tone can morph into ferocity. You want to look away, break his gaze, but you can’t. This whole thing was a mistake.

“It was fun,” you finally say. “But it was just a fuck. We were lonely.”

“You know, Y/N. You’re so damn smart,” Tony replies, leaning back a bit in his seat. “So, why do you always try and kid yourself? It bothers me. I know -- that you know -- that this wasn’t just a fuck.”

Your mind races through a million different responses.

Then, what was it?

What do you mean?

Why are you acting like this?

I'm not kidding myself.

But something tells you, deep down, that there's nothing you can say that won't lead to something you don't want to hear.

So, instead, you angrily snatch up your glass of orange juice, rising from your seat at the bar. You grit your teeth at Tony one more time before turning your back and striding toward to your study. You feel your cheeks burning hot.

The study is a second living room-sized space where you keep all your projects. Early sunlight is now streaming in through the large windows, falsely giving the impression of a peaceful Saturday morning. The large wooden table tops are littered with wires, microchips, and other electronic parts. When you first met the Avengers year ago, you and Tony butted heads over your shared expertise in technology and robotics. After much bickering and trying to outdo each other, you eventually accepted one another's intelligence and bonded over your shared field.

You look to the floor of your large study to see the air mattress you had set up there prior to Tony's arrival yesterday, obviously still pristine. You squeeze your eyes shut. Your apartment is absolutely dripping with reminders of last night's events. The empty whiskey glasses, still sitting on the side table in the living room. The couch pillows crumpled from the weight of your bodies, hungrily crashing together above them. You don't even want to think about your bedroom, where you're sure Tony's missing shirt is strewn on the ground.

You push the thoughts out of your your mind, pulling up a seat at your work table. You start to fiddle with a new lightweight shoulder pauldron you're currently designing. You can feel yourself going into 'shut-out' mode, trying your hardest to focus all your attention on the metal in your hands. This was all too much. This was all wrong.

When you hear footsteps behind you, entering the study, you ignore it. Tony quietly traverses the floor, coming to pull up a chair on the other side of the work table. He silently watches you working the wires into place. You don't look up. You don't have to see his expression to know the contemplative expression undoubtably painted on his face. You also don't have to look at him to know he's pondering more than just your work.

"You know, aluminum-titantium alloy won't hold up after a few heavy hits," Tony comments, nodding to the armor piece.

"I'm gonna chromatize it," you reply dryly, not looking up from your hands.

"I wouldn't bother. You can't just give everything a shiny coat to hold it together. If the problem is underneath, that is."

Fuck Tony and his fucking metaphors.

You growl angrily, throwing the pauldron down in frustration. You sit back in your seat and cross your arms, finally meeting your friend's eyes.

"Ok, fine," you say matter-of-factly. "Let's talk about it. It was good. It was really fucking good. And we both needed it. But that's it. I'm willing to leave it at that and forget about it if you are."

Tony rubs his beard in his palm, seemingly mulling over your words. His brown eyes don't leave yours. The warm sunlight coming in through the window behind him paints yellow patches on his bare shoulders, bathing him in gold. You take a mental picture of him, sitting there in his thoughts. A brief, intrusive thought passes through your mind, threatening that this could be the last time you see him. You immediately banish the notion. This friendship means too much to you. Not even a fuck-up as big as this one could make you want to toss it away. You hope Tony agrees.

"Help me understand where your head's at, Y/N," Tony finally replies. "What is your biggest concern right now? Wait, listen, I know there's a lot of reasons why last night was bad. But I want to know what you're thinking."

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. As much as Tony's 'list-and-analyze' reaction to crisis could be annoying, in some ways, it comforted you. Tony is impulsive, yes, but those who know him best also know his calculative nature: the mental risk assessments, the contingency plans labelled through Z. Always searching for the route that will hurt everyone the least. Always.

You consider his question carefully. Again, there's a million answers: the risk of ruining your friendship, the potential awkwardness, Pepper -- oh, god, Pepper --, the pain and grief you've both been through in the past few years. You close your eyes and pick one.

"You're one of the only people left that I trust. One of my only friends. Complexity doesn't often end well."

"You're right," Tony admits. "But aren't you the one who asked, 'is it wrong to not want to be alone'?"

You scoff loudly, angered by his using your words against you. However, that bitterness melts away into nothing when you see the heart-wrenching expression on Tony's face. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are searching yours desperately. Tony rarely shows outward weakness, but right now, the man before you isn't Iron Man. The man before you is broken. Someone who has tried everything to hold it -- his sanity, his relationship, his life -- together, to save the people he loves, to be strong. Someone who failed at that. Someone who truly felt alone.

You rest your chin in your palms and sigh, the weight falling over you as well.

Finally, you speak.

"Isn't it awful -- and strange -- how it can feel like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the exact same time?"

Tony nods sadly at your observation. Of course, you were talking about the snap. About Thanos.

"You're right. About everything," he remarks. "Sometimes, it just gets too much. The...”

Loneliness. You finish his sentence in your head.

“Me too.”

“You should know though,” Tony continues. “I would never stop being your friend. No matter how complex things are. This — what we’ve been through — could never change, Y/N.”

There it is.

Some situations feel like you're running in circles; you're spiraling downwards and everything you say only makes matters worse and worse. It feels like sinking in quicksand with no way out. In every one of those situations, there's a key -- that one sentence, that one idea, that effortlessly clears the fog. This was it. Tony is going to be here, always. Everything is going to be alright.

You straighten up a bit in your seat. You let out a long sigh and give Tony a small smile.

"I know," you assure your friend. "Sometimes I forget everything that's happened. How complicated it's been before. How we made it out."

Tony laughs, and you're relived.

"How could you forget? It's been a wild ride."

The two of you grin at each other. You take a sip of your orange juice, which you had forgotten about and was now lukewarm.

"OK, happy?" you inquire with a playful tone. "Base material fixed. No need for shiny coats of anything. We're solid now."

Tony lets out a hearty chuckle at the stupid analogy. Suddenly, he stands, circling the work table until he's right in front of you. You suck in a breath of oxygen. From your seated position, your head only comes up to his abs. Bare abs, that is. You tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," he says gently. “Stand up.”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Before you can open your mouth to say anything else, Tony’s lean and muscular arms are wrapped around you. He pulls you into his chest, embracing you in his warmth. His grip is firm, as if he’s afraid you might run away. You soften into the hug, wrapping your arms around his back. You feel safe.

After a few moments, Tony releases you. However, he doesn’t move away, and the two of you are still nearly chest-to-chest. You peer up at him, and your friend’s warm toffee eyes meet yours.

“Wow, a Tony Stark hug?” you remark sarcastically. “I should play the lotto today.”

Tony chuckles under his breath. Despite your joking, it was true that Tony rarely gives hugs. He just isn’t the touchy-feely type — according to himself. Somehow this gesture, right now, meant everything. A hug was the most intimate thing Tony could have given you. It was a seal, a mark saying ‘I meant every word I just said.’

Tony is still standing directly in front of you, so close there’s only a magazine’s width between you. He’s so near that you can feel the warmth of his steady breathing, and the slight radiating heat from the arc reactor in his chest. Suddenly, you feel that familiar tug in your stomach. A rush of blood downwards...

“Tony-“

“Do you want me?” Tony cuts you off. His voice is low, gentle.

You suck in a breath of air at his words. Despite his directness, there's a detectable edge of nervousness in his tone. You smile internally at knowing you have this effect on Mr. Playboy. The slight uncertainty in Tony's voice also tells you that it's true: this is different. Last night was not just a mindless fuck. This is an understanding, wrapped around a mutual care that runs so deep that it burns.

You don’t even try to convince yourself that you don’t want Tony. Every ounce of your being is screaming to close the gap between you. You can still hear the scientist-logic-brain in you resisting, but your heart feels at ease. You and Tony. A concept that felt like the forbidden fruit itself just ten minutes ago now looked more like an oasis. And oasis that was maybe alright to take a drink from every once in a while.

You snake one hand upward to hold his cheek. Tony pushes gently into your palm.

It's you who leans in first. When your lips collide, it's soft. He presses himself into you, a delicate sigh escaping. You pull back just enough to whisper a breathy "I want you."

And oh, god do you want him.

“Then, have me,” Tony whispers back, gently.

You nearly visibly shiver. Any trace of hesitation is gone from his voice now. His words are demanding, but his tone is more of a plea.

“Do you want to go the bedroom?”

“No,” Tony replies immediately. He’s breathless. “Right here.”

You immediately feel wetness drop into your panties. Tony’s eyes have grow darker, as they bear down at you. The intensity makes your legs feel weak. You need him. He needs you.

In a moment of boldness, you bring your hands down to the hemline of your shirt. You lift the garment up and over your head, placing it on the work table beside you. Tony’s eyes wander to your red sports bra and your now-stiffened nipples showing through the sleek fabric.

In the next breath, Tony is suddenly kissing you again, his lips against yours in a desperate hunger. He brings his large, roughly calloused hands to your waist. He firmly grips your body, making you feel tiny in his hold. You let a small moan escape your lips.

Still holding you in his grasp, Tony starts to walk you backwards until your backside is pressed against the edge of your large work table. Tony’s hips press forward into you, making you gasp with excitement. You fingertips tangle in his hair, just wanting more and more and more...

In an effortless movement, Tony lifts your sports bra over your head. He throws the red fabric to the side, neither of you caring where it lands. Tony breaks away from your lips, starting to kiss down your cheek, jaw, and then finally giving attention to the delicate skin on your neck. Again, he’s careful not to nip or suck too hard to leave marks. The light scratching of his facial hair contrasts with the soft wetness of Tony’s lips, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

He continues to attend to your neck and jaw as one of his jean-clad thighs moves to fall between your legs. You let out a deep groan as Tony begins to rub and and roll his knee forward, stimulating your clothed core. His movements are like a wave, every forward crest bringing you a tiny bit of that friction your body wants so, so much. You’re in awe of the control Tony has over his movements and the effortless pleasure he’s capable of giving. You can’t help but find his experience and expertise sexy.

“Y/N,” Tony breathes against your neck. “Say it again. Please. Say you want me.”

It occurs to you that, aside from last night, Tony hasn’t felt wanted in a long time. Like, truly wanted. A pang of sadness fills your heart.

“Tony. I want you,” you declare, making sure the conviction in your voice shines through. You don’t have to try. You desire him more than anything right now. “I want you. I want this.”

With your words, Tony moans deeply into your jawline and begins to move his leg between yours more vigorously. Your fingertips trace over his bare back muscles. You trail your hands upward, into the nape of his neck, massaging his scalp. Everything about his beautiful form fits perfectly in your hands.

Tony continues moving downwards, soon finding your right nipple in his mouth. You arch your back, letting a loud moan escape your lips. He works your nipple expertly, rolling it and playing at it with his tongue. He alternates to your other nipple, his thumb replacing where his mouth just left. He lightly strokes the hard, spit-slick bud, and the combination of coolness and friction is heaven.

Tony stands back up, and a second later, his hands are at the elastic band of your running shorts. His eyes meet yours for a moment, silently asking for your permission. You nod a bit too eagerly, and Tony cracks a small, teasing smile. You scoff and lightly slap his shoulder, returning the smile.

Tony pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you in just your underwear. Next thing you know, Tony’s arms are around your waist. You let out a soft, surprised squeal as he lifts you effortlessly to sit on the edge of the work table behind you. Slightly elevated now, you come to about the same height as Tony.

“Hey,” you protest playfully. “Be careful. There’s important stuff here.”

Tony reaches behind you to clear the area, moving your half-finished projects and parts to the side.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/L/N,” he replies with a huge grin. “Got a bit carried away.”

You pull him into another deep kiss. He growls with pleasure when you nip at his bottom lip. Tony is now standing between your knees, his torso pressing gently into your panty-covered pussy. You can feel his erection through his jeans, straining against his clothes. After seeing Tony’s length for the first time last night, the mental image of his cock — just a few millimeters away from your core — is enough to make you drool. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in harder against you. He moans into your mouth, and you feel the vibrations as your tongues tangle together.

You feel Tony’s body leaning forward, slowly coaxing you to lay down on the table. Now fully on your back, Tony’s above you, taking in the sight of your body.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most magnificent creature on Earth?”

“No,” you reply with a smirk. “But now, knowing how many other planets are out there in the galaxy, just being Miss Earth doesn’t seem like a huge deal.”

Tony laughs, smiling with his teeth. You find the crinkles that form on the outer corners of his eyes utterly endearing.

“Well, you’re still one out of four-and-three-quarters billion,” he jests back. “Not too shabby. It’s all about the little victories.”

You giggle. The pleasant thought passes through your mind that despite the current situation, everything does feel strangely normal. Tony is still Tony; you’re still you. The banter between you and your friend is still comfortable and easy. Your relationship, although maybe morphing into something more nuanced, remains unmoved.

You’re so caught up in your inner thoughts, that you don’t register Tony kneeling to the ground between your legs. You gasp when you feel his warm mouth over your still-clothed pussy. The combined wetness of his mouth and your core easily soaks through the fabric of your panties, making it cling to your skin. Tony runs his tongue over your folds, through the saturated cloth. You groan with pleasure, the small of your back arching off of the table. You grip Tony’s dark hair, needing something to hold onto.

The sensation of Tony’s lips and tongue through your thin panties is completely unique, and fuck, does it drive you wild.

After a few minutes, Tony’s hands reach up to hook in the waist of your panties. He removes your final garment, leaving you fully bare. His mouth immediately returns to your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, before running downwards through your lips, and then back up again. He alternates this pattern with gentle sucks on your clit.

“Oh, Tony. Shit,” you manage to call out. “That feels so good.”

He hums hungrily into you, pleasuring you to a level that no previous lovers have ever come close to. Tony’s large, rough hands wander upwards. One palm gentle grips your breast, while the other comes under your waist to hold the small of your back.

You raise your head slightly to glance down at Tony. The sight is pornographic. His face is buried in your cunt, head bobbing. The shape of his shoulder muscles, and his strong back. His tan skin, all bathed in golden sunlight.

Pleasuring you. On his knees.

It’s like a painting. Beautiful and erotic.

“Tony. I need you,” you gasp out, suddenly overcome with neediness. “Inside me. Fuck, I want you.”

Those magic words, again. I want you. The effect they have on Tony is instantaneous. Without hesitation, Tony is on his feet. He swiftly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper. His pants fall down to his ankles where he kicks them off. To your surprise his naked cock springs free. A glistening pearl of precum is formed at the tip.

“Wow, commando, huh?” you tease, gently biting at your bottom lip. “You were so confident you were going to get lucky again today?”

“Of course not. I just like to let it breath sometimes,” Tony remarks. “You wouldn’t get it. It’s a man thing.”

You scoff and roll your eyes sarcastically. Lovable idiot.

“Top drawer?” Tony asks, referring to the location of the condoms.

“On the left.”

Tony hurries out of the room and returns a second later with a condom from your bedroom. Stepping closer between your knees, he gives his cock a few pumps in his fist. You can feel your heart quickening with anticipation. Your pussy is nearly pulsing, needing to be stretched and filled.

Tony rips open the shiny wrapper and rolls the condom down onto his length. You scoot slightly closer to the edge of the table as his hands travel to grip your thighs. You moan deeply as Tony rubs the head of his cock over your slit, spreading your moisture.

“Are you ready?” Tony asks, eyes dark with desire.

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “Make me feel good.”

With that, Tony starts slowly pushing into your dripping pussy. You groan as your walls accommodate to his girth. It’s amazing that you took him just last night, and he’s already capable of stretching you like this again. Tony throws his head back, hissing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his pubic mound flush against yours.

He starts pumping gently. The way Tony’s hips roll forward in fluid motions makes you want to scream with pleasure. His hands are gripping your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

Tony’s pace quickens, and soon the room is filled with sounds of wetness, skin slipping on skin, and the moans leaving both your throats. One of Tony’s hands moves to your pussy. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit making you see stars behind your eyes. The extra stimulation almost immediately starts tightening the orgasmic coil in your stomach. Tony seems to know the exact speed to move his cock and thumb to turn you into a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Oh, more,” you groan, your pleasure growing. “Tony Stark. Yes, oh, please.”

“Come for me, Y/N,” Tony growls almost primally. “Wanna feel you squeezing around my cock.”

Tony’s filthy demands go straight to your pussy. You love the feeling of being under him, sprawled out on the table, completely naked for him to fuck. And the dirty talk is the cherry on top.

The pleasure in your abdomen continues to rise until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. With one last thrust, your orgasm washes over you. You scream Tony’s name into the room, not caring who hears. Pulses of pleasure rip through your entire body, even making your feet tingle. When you come down, the convulsions slowing, your head feels fuzzy and bubbly.

Not even a moment later, you feel Tony lifting your legs higher. Still inside you, he straightens them, bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The new sensation is instantly nirvana. He starts pumping into you, and the head of his cock rubs your G-spot on every thrust. Penetrative sex had never felt this good for you.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Y/N,” Tony manages to says between moans. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

The feeling of your pussy being pounded in this angle has your eyes rolling back into your skull. All your thoughts seem to leave your head. The only thing you can focus on is the immense pleasure. The sound of Tony’s balls slapping against you wetly with every stroke combined with his desperate moans fill your ears.

Tony’s thrusts start to become more jagged, needy. His moans slowly transform more into whimpers as he continues to fuck into you. Suddenly, Tony comes with a series of loud groans, his eyes shut tight. You feel his dick pulsating inside you as he orgasms. He thrusts a few more times, riding out the last waves.

He gently slides out of you, his hands coming down the tabletop next to your waist to steady himself. Both of you are breathing heavily, your bodies radiating with the afterglow of pleasure.

Silently, Tony helps you to stand before sweeping you up easily in his arms. You lean into his chest as he carries you to the bedroom. Tony lays you down carefully on the cool mattress before hurrying to the bathroom. He returns a moment later with a warm washcloth.

After cleaning yourselves up, Tony crawls into the refreshing sheets beside you. He slips one arm under your neck, and you cuddle in closer to his body. The warmth and smoothness of his skin is so, so welcoming. In the strangest way, it feels natural.

“I didn’t think it was possible to top last night,” you finally say, chuckling.

“Me neither,” Tony replies. “I guess we just have good chemistry.”

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh and drape an arm over his chest. “Hey, question.”

“Ask away.”

“Why did you cook all that stuff earlier? Like the eggs, toast, the whole nine yards. It was sort of...”

“Out of character?” Tony finishes your sentence.

You nod. Tony takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

“Honestly, when I woke up, and you were gone, I was freaking out a little bit. I wanted to talk about last night, but you weren’t there, and I just didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were having serious regrets, or if you were angry, or upset with me. Or if you were thinking our whole friendship was burned to the ground.

“I just needed to do something. Anything. Busy my hands, distract my mind. Sorry that I kind of raided your kitchen.”

You turn to peer up at him, letting out a soft laugh. His chocolate eyes meet yours, and you give him a kind smile, endeared by his typical, hyper ramblings.

“I’m sorry I left,” you start. “I was freaking out a little, too. I guess that’s always been a difference between us. I always try to run from the unknown, while you just want to plow straight through it.”

Tony smiles warmly and blinks his gorgeous, thick black eyelashes at you.

“It’s why we make a good pair. Balance. Yin and yang. Ya’ know.”

You both chuckle, content in one another’s arms. You open your mouth to reply, but you’re cut off by a loud growl from your stomach. Tony bursts into laughter.

“Your fault for barely touching breakfast,” Tony remarks playfully. “Which — not to toot my own horn — was quite artfully made.”

“I guess I could settle for a bowl of lowly cereal as punishment,” you reply with mock sadness.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. He starts to rise from the bed, then offers his hand for you to follow.

“C’mon, I’ll make you some more eggs.”

#tony x reader #tony x fem!reader #avengers imagines #avengers fic #avengers smut #tony stark #smut #tony stark smut #marvel fics #iron man #iron man smut #iron man fic #dom!tony #soft!tony #friends to lovers #tony stark fluff #fanfic

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rendevousz · 4 years ago

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little hacker

avengers x fem!teen!reader

characters: brief clint barton, tony stark, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, peter parker

summary: you hacked into tony's systems and he, along with the team, track you down.

warnings: mentions of death and a car crash, hacking written by someone who has no idea how it works

word count: 3241

note: hi um this is my first oneshot on tumblr i hope you like it!!

you were 14 when you first met the avengers. your family had gotten into a tragic car accident and you were the only one who made it out alive, leaving you in excessive guilt and burden; guilt because you were the only one granted a second chance at life and burden because you had to live your life, barely scraping by as you were dropped the responsibility of taking care of your sick grandmother.

at 11, where all that the kids your age had to worry about was whether their pocket money was enough to get themselves an after-school snack, you worried whether or not the money left to your name was enough to survive.

at 11, where girls worried about their changing bodies and asked their mothers about it, you had to figure it all out yourself and with the help of your trusty laptop, the only gadget you had, one that your dad had gifted to you after you had gotten 100s for all your tests at age 8. he thought you were his little prodigy and figured a laptop would treat you well. you took care of it well because while you didn't want to spend the last of your money left, —that was specifically set aside for your grandmother's hospital bills— you wanted to hold on to the laptop for as long as you could, as a reminder of your loving father, as well as the memories the item held, after you've watched movies with pretty much all of your passed family members on that laptop at different points in your life. that was why whenever the thing lagged due to how much you've been using it, you almost always figure out how to fix it until it was good as new.

at 12, while your classmates had their parents to protect them when they were out at night, you feared for your life whenever you were out past dark. which led you to learning self defence from youtube videos. you learned them pretty quickly and with your sharp-wittedness, you no longer feared to be out at night. you even had the honours of trying out your skills when some men thought they could get you just because you were smaller than them.

at 12, where kids your age were having fun, enjoying their childhood, you had no choice but to be mature and think for the good of yourself and your sick grandmother. you were forced to grow up and you were probably more mature and intelligent than the rest of your classmates combined.

and at 13, you realised that money wasn't going to grow on trees and the money you were left with wasn't going to last forever. it had to last until you were old enough to work. but with your grandmother's condition getting worse and worse, you were forced to drop out of school. you were upset because you loved it. you loved knowledge. but family came first and the only thing that your knowledge increased on was on computers.

which led to you being able to hack into tony stark's bank account at only 14. you had no other choice than to steal money and who better to steal it from than a guy whose pocket change could probably last you another five years or so? you knew who tony stark was, the whole world knows who he is. and you thought that maybe he would be too preoccupied with his alter ego saving the whole world, along with his group of earth's mightiest heroes that he wouldn't notice the tiny bit of money you'd stolen from him.

of course the billionaire had been alerted immediately by his AI when you'd accessed into his systems. "security breach?" he exclaimed, immediately dropping the tool he was tinkering his suit with in his lab.

he spent about 3 minutes, that was how long you took touring around in his systems, observing what you did in it. he watched as you did nothing about the highly confidential information he had and instead, stole....5 grand from his bank account? that was barely a scratch to his account. what was going on?

he had requested FRIDAY to track down the hacker, mainly because he was perplexed that someone had hacked into his well protected system just to steal a tiny bit of money but it seems that even FRIDAY couldn't track down where it came from.

he told the team and it was then that everyone worried how dangerous the hacker could possibly be.

"who steals just 5 grand after hacking into a billionaire's bank account?" clint frowned after tony had explained the whole situation. "i mean, if i managed to hack into your systems, i'd do way more than just steal a couple bucks."

"exactly. and who knows? they might just be waiting for the right moment to install dangerous malware into the system and until we find the culprit, they're roaming somewhere out there with all our confidential information right at the tip of their fingers. if they decide to use it against us..." tony trailed off, for once having a worried expression on his otherwise nonchalant face. he's never been this clueless about what to do with any sort of technical issues concerning the avengers or himself.

you on the other hand, after getting complacent that you weren't caught, kept doing so for the next couple months or so. you had no ill intentions, just trying to scrape by. the whole situation puzzled tony. he didn't care how much you've taken from him in total now, you were right; it was merely pocket change to him. but you were still considered a threat since you had free access to his systems and he didn't even know who you were or where you were.

that was until you made a tiny mistake, one that if tony wasn't spending every waking moment trying to track you down he wouldn't have noticed. and though it was a small mistake, it certainly was going to change how things ran from then on.

that afternoon, after having just gotten back from visiting your grandmother at the hospital, you were planning to get more money from the billionaire's bank account at the comfort of your own home. god, hospital bills were expensive. once you had had a little snack, you settled down on the couch and opened your laptop. but being the quick-witted person you were, before the screen in front of you lit up, you saw movement from behind you.

your heart raced. you could handle fighting people but those usually happened in alleys at nighttime. this was in your home, your safe place. you made sure to lock the doors and there weren't fire escapes outside your windows so how did the intruder get in?

you could tell they were trying to be inconspicuous to get to you and so you let them. you let the person think that they were going to get you without a fight but when they were right behind you, you swiftly turned your body around and jumped over the couch. the masked intruder let out a surprised yelp and the two of you fought for a bit. before you knew it, you had them pinned under you in just ten seconds.

"wha– how– what?" it sounded like a boy. you looked down at him and noticed his red and blue spandex suit. you frowned. wasn't this the friendly neighbourhood spiderman guy or something? why was a superhero breaking into your home?

he was coughing from your knee pressing down onto his chest and you lifted it slightly, enough for him to breathe but not enough to escape. he seemed grateful though because he muttered a seemingly embarrassed 'thanks'.

"get off the kid or i'll blast you off of him myself."

you look up and saw the iron man repulsor aimed right at you, and obviously iron man himself was standing right there in the middle of your small apartment. behind him stood a redhead, who you knew as the black widow, aiming a pistol at you, and a man with a shield, captain america. the spiderboy must've come in through the window and unlocked the door for them.

when you made eye contact with steve, he frowned in confusion. you looked way too young to be the culprit they had expected. he muttered a quiet 'wait, what?' before tony stark revealed himself, his iron man faceplate opening.

"um...kid? where are your parents? or guardian? we need to see them because there's been some highly illegal activity coming from this address." the man in the suit spoke. you stayed still, knee still pressing against the boy under you, frowning at the adults in the room. they noticed your apprehensiveness and slowly lowered their weapons. "we're not here to hurt you, you can release the boy now," steve told you gently.

you usually weren't one to trust easily but since these people were known superheroes, you reluctantly stood up, still anxious of the possibilities of what they could do to you. the spiderboy got up too and dusted his back, before going to stand next to steve. you were confused as to why these heroes were breaking in your home until you remembered what you had been up to for the past weeks. how could you forget when that was the only reason you were still surviving?

your eyes widened with fear when they met tony's soft ones. he looked at you with such care and worry that you were reminded of your late dad. the man in front of you wasn't the arrogant man you've watched on youtube. you felt bad for stealing from him now. you used to think that he deserved it, despite how little you took compared to how much he had. the man knelt down before you so he didn't appear so big in front of you, seeing your frightened expression. little did he know you were frightened for a totally different reason.

"anyone else living here, kid? because i tracked down this address and someone has been stealing money from me. i might need to have a little talk with them." he explained, looking around the house. you fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously, scared of what would come once you came clean about your actions. you were scared you were going to be taken in for juvenile crime but you were also scared of the consequences of lying straight to their faces. so you took a deep breath before deciding to just tell the truth.

"t–that would be me, sir." you admitted in a small voice, avoiding eye contact with the billionaire you had been stealing from. a few shocked looks from the team and an incredulous 'what?' from tony had you biting the inside of your cheeks in fear.

"i'm truly sorry about that, sir. i..." you trailed off, debating whether or not to justify your actions because you thought that he might not even want to listen to it. "i had to pay off my grandmother's hospital bills because she is very sick. my family died a few years ago in a car crash and i was the only one who made it. i was left some money to my name but having to survive on that along with paying off nana's bills, it was bound to run out. i...i thought that since you were a billionaire, stealing a few thousands wouldn't matter to you...i'm so sorry, sir. i– i'll start working to pay you back.." you stuttered out, holding your hands together so it would minimise the shaking.

tony's mouth opened and closed, like fish out of water, not knowing what to say to you. he stood up and you were on the verge of breaking down right then and there, feeling as small as you did before he knelt before you. "p–please don't report me, sir. i– i don't know what would happen to my nana if you do.. i swear to you that i didn't mess with your other files. i only accessed the system for your bank account and that was it. i have no ill intentions, please don't report me.." you were now the one kneeling down in front of him, begging.

the team were flabbergasted at the scene unfolding before them and tony was quick to get you off your knees, which scared you even more because the death grip of his metal hands on your forearms had your mind running wild at the millions of possibilities of what he would do to you. was he going to kill you and leave you somewhere that people were never going to find your body? or was he going to dispose of you and use his power to remove you permanently from the system so no one came looking for you? he had the power to ruin your life and you feared that.

snapping you out of your mental breakdown, he spoke softly. "hey, it's okay." and that was when you realised the 'death grip' he had on your forearms had only been your paranoia getting the best of you. he was barely even touching you. your teary eyes looked up at his soft, brown ones in fear.

then he smiled at you.

"it's okay. i understand the reason why you did what you did. you're a good kid, your nana is so lucky to have you. what's your name?" he knelt down before you once again, knowing that him standing tall in his iron man suit terrified you. "y/n." you responded timidly.

"how old are you, y/n?" this time, it was steve who asked. you had forgotten that there were other people in the room, too consumed by your fear for your life a few moments ago. "i'm fourteen, mr america, sir." you whispered out, the sight of captain america in person intimidating you until you saw a kind smile on his face.

"you're pretty young to be doing what you've been doing, y/n. are you aware that you're the first person to be able to hack into my heavily protected, supposedly impenetrable network? many have tried to do so and failed, and they were really smart people too. have you been doing this for a while?" tony asked.

"um...my father gifted me this laptop when i was 8 because i did exceptionally well in school. he believed i was a child prodigy and let me have a laptop since he knew my studies wouldn't be affected by the distraction of entertainment. i used to only hack into games to cheat my way up the ranks but only recently i tried something else since i had nothing better to do and i've been out of school for a while now. i knew you were a billionaire so i tried just for the heck of it and surprised myself when i got in on the first try. and then i saw your bank account details and i really needed money so i stole some... again, i'm so sorry about that." you apologised, looking down at your feet.

he couldn't believe it. you were just messing around and you managed to get into his system? you, a mere fourteen year old who was out of school, managed to single handedly do what geniuses around the world had failed to do?

he was initially just going to have a talk with the hacker, and in case they were dangerous and had backup, he brought his own. but bringing steve, natasha and peter proved to be unnecessary when the culprit turned out to be you.

"where did you learn those moves?" natasha stepped closer towards you. you looked up at the redhead, noticing the glare she had on you when she aimed her pistols at you was replaced with curiosity.

you fiddled with the hem of your shirt even more, embarrassed to tell her that you learned to fight from a couple of youtube videos when she had gotten years of actual training. you were pathetic compared to her. "i, um, i learned them from some youtube videos."

her eyebrows raised in surprise at the revelation. you hadn't gotten professional training yet you moved like you had. peter had superhuman strength, agility and endurance yet you took him down in under ten seconds. sure it may have been a disadvantage to peter because he was caught off guard but he should've been able to take you down still.

now was tony going to let the chance of a lifetime slip by? no, of course he was immediately thinking of recruiting you. your dad had been right about you being a prodigy. you adapted to new skills quickly and you were perfect for recruitment.

"hey kid, wanna be an avenger?"

your eyes widened and your jaw dropped in shock. steve immediately turned to him, an incredulous look on his face as he glared dangerously at the billionaire. "stark, you wanna think about this for a minute?"

"thank about what, cap? you saw what she did to the spiderling. and she successfully hacked into my system on her first try and we took weeks to trace her. romanoff back me up here," he saw how impressed natasha was by you and he knew the redhead wasn't going to disagree. "stark's right, steve. she's only fourteen and she's capable of so much already. we need someone like her."

"exactly! she's only fourteen! this life is dangerous for her!" steve argued. peter then tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "hey, mr rogers, i'm a sixteen-year-old avenger and she took me down easily. not gonna lie, it hurt my pride, also my back when you flipped me over your shoulder," he turned to you but you didn't say anything because you couldn't see his facial expression. "but i think she's going to be okay, sir."

steve sighed before turning to you, the defeated expression on his face softening when you looked up at him with your doe eyes and a small smile. you didn't answer to tony just yet since it seemed that steve had a say in it as well but you were dying to say yes. not only were you not going to be reported for your crimes but to be recruited by iron man himself to be an avenger? who could say no to that? not you, at least, since you had nothing better to do with your life at the moment.

"well, what do you say, kid?"

your smile grew and you nodded happily. the team couldn't help but crack a smile at how happy you looked for the first time since they've encountered you.

"well, you should go pack your important stuff so we can go back to the tower. you're going to be moving in if you're an official member of the avengers." tony told you and you nodded, walking towards your room to start packing while the team sat on the couch to wait for you.

"wait, what's going to happen to my nana?" you turned back towards them, worry etched onto you face. "don't worry about it, kid. you can give me the details later and i'll settle it. she'll be in good hands." he assured. "okay." you mumbled in response.

you were actually going to be an avenger. "awesome.." you grinned to yourself as you packed.

#avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #captain america x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #teen!reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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andreafmn · 4 years ago

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Collision - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,434

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 1/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

Going back home felt bizarre for (Y/N). It had been 4 years since she had moved away from the La Push Reservation on a scholarship to a prep boarding school in Seattle. Although students were expected to go back home during summer break, she spent her time in summer taking college classes or attending internships in the area, so going back didn’t fit into her plans.

But she had just graduated from high school and decided that taking a gap year could not hurt. Seeing her family wouldn’t be that bad either.

(Y/N) Uley had not reunited physically with Sam and Allison Uley since she left for school, only calling occasionally but always being to busy for anything else. The mother and son duo had grown accustomed to the short phone calls and vague emails they would receive from their studious family member. The Uley siblings used to be a very close pair, being only a year apart helped their bond. But since (Y/N) had invested all her energy into her high school career, their relationship rapidly dissipated; replaced by untold secrets and life-changing details.

The Uley girl had no idea what was in store when she went back home. She had left when she was 14 and was coming back an 18-year-old with a high school diploma and a bachelor’s degree. (Y/N) had always been an over achiever and applying to the school she had and taking dual enrollment was no surprise to her mother and brother.

The bus ride from Seattle to La Push lasted almost eight hours, so (Y/N) equipped herself with two books, plenty of snacks, and a fully charged iPod to handle the ride. She had gotten the earliest ride available always enjoying the intriguing mystery that 3 am travels brought. Her brown eyes surveyed the curious characters that voyaged alongside her a young woman sat with a sleeping baby in her arms, the dark circles under her eyes signaled the baby was still a newborn getting adapted to a sleep schedule; there was a middle-aged man, his eyes attached to a computer and a briefcase tight to his side; there were two teenagers, backpacks at their feet and shared headphones in between them. They were wearing light blue polo shirt and her school insignia embroidered on the left side of their shirt. She had seen them in passing, two freshmen still energetic and excited for their school life. She looked at them and smiled, remembering being in their shoes four years ago.

Four hours in, (Y/N) had finished one book, and the bus made its first stop in Port Angeles, the place where everyone that traveled with her got off. It wasn’t surprising to see from the top of her book as everyone got off, she didn’t recognize any of them from the reservation so it would have been surprising if any of them had stayed in the bus. For the next four hours, (Y/N) continued to read her second book surrounded by a comforting silence. The sun had risen about an hour ago and a nice warmth was streaming from the bus window and (Y/N) felt herself drift in bliss.

Her eyes fluttered open once again when she felt the bus finally rolling to a stop. She blinked a few times as she adjusted her vision to the bright midday sun and her brain restarted normal functions. The brunette gathered the bag with her travel companions and got up from the chair she had been glued to for eight hours.

“Have a good day,” the driver chimed as (Y/N) was walking down the bus.

“You too, drive safe!” The girl smiled and got her two suitcases out of the side of the bus.

(Y/N) got startled as she felt two arms wrap around her midriff and quickly swung her elbow back.

“Woah, woah, careful with those arms, (Y/N). It’s just me,” the girl turned around, a gleaming grin adorning her face.

“Sam!” She jumped onto the open arms of her older brother, seeing the years that had passed on his tired face.

“Look at you, darling. All grown up,” Allison Uley smiled, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Mom, I’ve missed you.” (Y/N) hugged her mother tightly, noticing the difference in heights of her and her mother. Another thing she noticed was the strain between her mother and her brother. Before she left, they all had a very close relationship but now it felt like so many things had interlaced into their bond. “Let’s go home yeah?”

“I’m, actually I gotta go to my house,” Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“What house?” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I moved out, but I’ll come over for your welcome dinner.”

“Sam, she just came back. Don’t you wanna spend time with your sister?” Allison begged, wanting to have both of her children under the same roof again.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, mom. Leave it.” Sam sighed. “I’ll see you at dinner, (Y/N).”

He kissed the top of his sister’s head and left. He wanted to tell them the whole truth, but he knew he couldn’t. Knowing that information would put them in a level of danger that he didn’t want them to be aware of.

(Y/N) stared at the retreating figure of his brother as he ran down the street, leaving her and their mother.

“What’s up with him?”

“Oh darling, if only I knew.” Allison sighed grabbing one of the suitcases her daughter had brought. “Let’s just head to the house so you can rest.”

“Yeah, let’s.” (Y/N) gave Allison a comforting smile and wheeled the second suitcase towards the truck.

The drive home was as short as she remembered, and the house hadn’t changed a bit. She walked up the steps to the porch and opened the old wooden door; it still made the same creaking sound. The house still smelled of seawater and pine, an odd mix but a comforting scent. (Y/N) regretted all the summers she missed here and all the days she spent away from her family.

She made her way up the stairs and entered the first door to the right. She ran her fingers through the stickers she had pasted on there when she was 13: a wolf, a rainbow, a heart, and a picture of her family. Her name still carved at the highest point of the door and she smiled at the memory of that. She sat atop Sam’s shoulder when she was just 12 years old, a trembling hand holding a pick as she carved as best as she could the name “(Y/N)”.

The doorknob as it was turned let out a squeaky groan and the door needed an extra push to open. The room had not changed at all. The walls were still painted a light green, the light switch still had the pink princess cover, the bedding had the little purple butterflies embroidered on them, and the pillows were all pink and purple. In a corner rested the five boxes (Y/N) had sent to the house from her dorm room.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” (Y/N) commented as she felt her mother’s presence behind her.

“I didn’t want to change it until you came back,” Allison smiled. “But I’m sure you’d like to give this place a bit of a makeover.”

“Definitely,” she laughed. “I think I’ll go to Port Angeles this weekend, doing some shopping can’t hurt.”

“That’s true.” Allison side hugged her daughter as she laughed. She headed towards the door but stopped when she was called upon by her daughter.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“By any chance, do you know where Sam’s living?” Allison’s body stiffened but shared the information with her daughter. Maybe she could figure out why he’d just disappeared.

(Y/N) was surprised to hear he was living with a girl she barely knew. She knew of Emily Young through Leah Clearwater, but not much after that. Last thing she had heard Leah and Sam had been dating. She certainly had missed some very important pivotal points in her brother’s life.

The house wasn’t far, so she decided to walk there. Upon arrival she could feel the warm and inviting aura that the quaint house emanated. The blue door called to her as she knocked on it. It finally opened and revealed her brother.

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my big brother. Is that such a crime?” She laughed.

“No, of course. Come in,” he smiled begrudgingly. “I don’t have much time so we gotta make this quick.”

“Wow, feeling the love there,” she chuckled passing through the doorframe.

“There’s just some things that I have to do before dinner tonight.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I just wanted to ask if you could help me on the weekend with my room. I’m bringing it four years into the present, gotta make sure it looks like an 18-year-old sleeps there.”

“Yeah, I’ll come over Sunday afternoon and help you then. Anything else you need?”

“Well, not exactly, but it wouldn’t help to catch up. You know make up for four years of chit chat conversations and get me up to date with at the happenings in your life.”

“There’s not much to say other than I moved out and I’m engaged.” He said nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?! You’re engaged and failed to mention that to me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, (Y/N).”

“Yes, it is, Sam! You’re getting married and this is the first I’m ever hearing of this or the fact that you moved out or the fact that you’re engaged to your ex-girlfriend’s cousin. I think it is a big deal.”

“Okay, yeah. Kind of a long story on that one.”

“Enough time to tell it to me?” Sam hesitated. He could hear Emily’s truck approaching and two male voices coming back from patrol. He needed to get (Y/N) out of the house before they got here.

“Maybe another time. I’ll call you on Sunday, yeah?” Sam asked as he nudged his sister out of his house.

“I guess.” (Y/N) mumbled as she was pushed out the front door. “Bye.”

“See ya.” Sam kissed the side of her head and closed the door.

(Y/N) left the house with more questions about her brother that she had begun with but didn’t want to press on. There was no use if he wasn’t going to talk, so she walked back home.

Her mother had gone out, possibly grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner, giving (Y/N) time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. She walked up the stairs and into her room, plopping down on the bed not caring how she landed. All she wanted was to close her eyes and rest.

By six in the afternoon her eyes fluttered open once again. She could smell the dinner her mother had been cooking. The room had darkened as the sun was going down and thankfully her mother had turned on a lamp for (Y/N) to have some vision. The girl got up from bed and grabbed some clothes from her suitcase to take a quick shower before dinner. She stripped all her clothes off and let the water wash away all the hours of the day. As soon as the water started turning cold, she shut it off and got out.

For a second, (Y/N) stopped and stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. She barely recognized the girl staring back. The bags under her eyes were deeper than the last time she had seen herself in this specific mirror, her cheekbones were more defined than before, her skin paler than usual since she hadn’t really seen the sun in a while.

It didn’t take her long to change into some new clothes and head downstairs, where she saw her mother on the phone. Disappointment evident in her eyes.

“Sam, it’s your sister… please… ok, fine. Just don’t flake on her on Sunday,” Allison sighed, turning off her phone and slamming it on the counter.

“Everything okay, mom?”

“Oh, yeah, darling. Your brother won’t be able to join us, but Billy and Jacob, and the Clearwaters are on their way, and I also invited Charlie and Bella Swan. I hope you don’t mind that they join in.”

“No, I don’t mind. What about Paul?”

“You know I’ve never liked that boy, honey.” (Y/N) stared at her mother. Refusing to continue the conversation until Allison answered the question. “I did invite him, but he couldn’t come.”

“I love seeing you make an effort,” (Y/N) laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I’ll set the table.”

“Thank you, darling.”

(Y/N) grabbed the 10 plates needed for the night and the respective cutlery. She still remembered how her mother liked the table arranged and set it as such. She set the vase filled with fresh flowers in the middle of the table, leaving space on the sides for the dinner platters. The arrival of the guests was soon after. (Y/N) had grown alongside Jacob and Leah, and on the summers, she would spend her times with the Swan girl. Once Seth was born, he became very close with the Uley girl.

“My oh my, (Y/N), how you’ve grown.” Billy Black grabbed Uley’s hand and smiled up at her, with the warmness that summer brought.

“Indeed, I have, and you haven’t aged a day in four years. What’s your secret?”

“It’s in the genes,” he laughed alongside the young girl. She’d always been a charmer, he thought “You remember my boy, Jacob, right?”

“How could I ever forget? Hey, Jake!”

“How you’ve been, (Y/N)?” Jacob approached his friend and wrapped her in a hug. “Been an awful long time.”

“Four years, that’s not much,” she smiled. “Come in.”

The father and son duo entered the house, and next came the Clearwaters. Harry, Sue, and Seth. No Leah. They had always been close to the Uleys, a bit of divide coming after the rupture between the eldest offspring of each family.

“Oh, wow, where has the time gone?” Sue commented, greeting the girl with a tight hug.

“4 years really do go by quick, don’t they?”

“They sure do, Harry.” (Y/N) smiled, motioning the couple in.

Finally, Seth walked in and engulfed (Y/N) in a tight hug. The girl was 5 years his elder, but he considered her one of his best friends. Seth and Paul were the only two people (Y/N) kept in close contact other than her family. For some time, Paul and (Y/N) had drifted apart but Seth always sent his monthly excited letters, updating her on what he had been up to.

“I missed you, (Y/N)!” Little Seth spoke into a bundle of brunette hair.

“I missed you too, Seth.” She smiled as he walked past her, joining his parents.

The last to enter were Sheriff Swan and Bella. The cop smiled at the girl and gave her a quick hug, commenting on how much she had grown, a low chuckle leaving his throat. Bella entered with hunched shoulders, possibly not wanting to be there but she still smiled at her old friend. Vague memories filled the girls’ heads of summer play dates and days at the beach.

“It’s been quite some time, huh?” Bella muttered.

“It sure has. It’s great to see you again,” (Y/N) smiled. “How have you liked Forks now that you’re back full time. Still hating cold weather?”

“Yeah,” the pale girl chuckled. “But it has its better days.”

The girls joined in a quick giggled before joining the rest of the group at the dinner table. Allison had already set the table and had said her hellos to the group.

The three males had engaged in sports conversations and the teens were all huddled in the kitchen munching on cheese and crackers and engaging in small chit chat.

“So, (Y/N), 18 and already a degree, how does that feel?” Jacob asked, stuffing his mouth with cheese and ham.

“Well, as good as it can be. Don’t know exactly what I’m gonna do now. All I know is that I’m taking a year off and taking a breather for the first time.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“I just can’t believe you’d spend all this time going to school, twice as much. I don’t like school at all,” Seth chimed in, picking apart the cheese and filling his mouth.

“So, you spent these past four years studying, including your summers?” Bella added.

“That’s correct,” (Y/N) smiled. “And now I have a degree and nothing to do with it.”

The group chuckled and moved towards the adults as they were being called to dinner. In the center of the table was a big platter of spaghetti and meatballs, (Y/N)’s favorite food, a tray of toasted garlic bread, and a bowl of a colorful mix of spring salad.

(Y/N) always enjoyed her mother’s cooking. Even on her saddest days, Allison’s cooking could warm her heart at any time. She and her mother had a very close relationship, even after four years of distance. Since her father left early in her life, her mother had always tried her hardest to make sure both her children were loved and cared for. And she stayed wondering where she had gone wrong with Sam and hoping (Y/N) didn’t stray away as her eldest had.

The dinner group had all taken their seats at the dinner table and were passing around the various platters, serving themselves their desired portions. Jacob and Seth were overfilling their plates, receiving a laugh from their respective parents. Charlie, Harry, and Billy were filling their plates with more protein than carbohydrates and the moms at the table smiled at the males engulfing the meatballs. (Y/N) looked around the table and smiled. It had been a long time since she had sat down with the important people in her life and was relaxed, even if two of them were missing.

After everyone was served, everything went almost quiet. Some background music could be heard from the living room and the sound of forks hitting plates and mouths chewing filled the environment. Everyone was comfortable with the silence, but there was still one question in everyone’s mind.

“Where’s Sam?” Seth spoke up, voicing everyone’s question. The whole table paused in action and Seth felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Sue softly elbowed her son. “What?”

“It’s okay, Sue,” (Y/N) smiled. “He couldn’t be here, bud.”

“Maybe he was feeling bad, like Leah.” He added earning a burning stare from both his parents.

“Maybe, Seth.”

“I just wanna apologize for our daughter missing this dinner. I know she really wanted to see you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Harry, it’s really no problem. I’m sure I’ll catch up with her soon enough.” (Y/N) smiled trying to ease the tension felt in the room. She could see her mother gripping her fork tightly as she kept her head down. “But I would also like to apologize on behalf of Sam, I know he wanted to be here.”

Everyone simply nodded and went back to their plates. The rest of the evening was enjoyable. No one mentioned the pair that was missing, and (Y/N)’s past four years were questioned in depth. She had an answer for everything except “What are you gonna do now?”

She didn’t know and that’s what she answered. She mentioned she wanted to study medicine, having finished a degree in biology and always loved taking care of other people. Sue was excited, being a nurse herself. But (Y/N) had landed at a standstill in terms of her life and career. A vast portion of her life had been defined as a student and now that this part was over, she didn’t know who she was.

The dinner festivities were over soon thereafter, leaving Allison and (Y/N) to clean up after the group. The Uley pair put everything away in silence, exhausted from the eventful day. (Y/N) could see as her mother wiped away a few stray tears, sniffling behind her hair. The girl knew better than to bring the topic back up and left her mother with a kiss on the temple and a good night.

Upstairs, (Y/N) prepared herself for bed. The event had drained nay energy still left in her and she plopped down on the bed with a small thud. She had prepared her clothes for the next day, knowing her energy would also be drained but still excited to have this change. Her eyes fluttered close as she heard in the distance her mother’s quiet footsteps on the staircase, darkness overtaking her.

Next->

A/N: if you wish to be tagged for the next parts, please let me know. I’d be happy to. <3

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