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graceful-starker · 1 year

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You’re More Than Just a One Night Stand (Redo)

OG Prompt: Uhmm I dont know if this might make u uncomfortable, but I was thinking about a married!Tony cheating Pepper with Peter (he loves her but they are not in a good moment), and Peter accidentally (or not) leaves a hickey maybe too visible

Summary: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have the most famous on again-off again relationship in the world. Peter Parker sees his opportunity and takes it.

Warnings: Cheating, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, angst with a (starker) happy ending, alcohol mention, angst.

Notes: This is part of my New Years’ Resolution project (Guess what my New Years resolution is next year? To finish this list :P ) Anyway, people really liked this one, but thought that it would be better if I redid it now, because of how much my writing has improved over the years.

Word count: 7,714

~~~

Tony groans as he’s shaken awake, feeling the ache in his back before he even opens his eyes. Falling asleep at his desk is no longer a manageable task for his body, it would seem.

He stretches and blinks slowly, wincing at the fluorescent lights. “Oh, god,” Tony groans again, turning to look at who woke him up. “Hey, kid,” he sleepily greets Peter.

Peter smiles sadly at him. “You fell asleep in the lab again, Mr. Stark,” he states. And if the worry in Peter’s eyes didn’t look so real, so much like he actually cared, Tony might have snarked him for stating the obvious.

Instead, he just gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile and straightens up. “Pep kicked me out again,” he explains. He stands and starts to shuffle towards the coffee maker he keeps in the lab. “We’re broken up. Again. I give it twenty-four hours, honestly, this was a stupid reason to get mad at me, all things considered.” He was rambling, and he knew it. He always tries to keep his problems away from Peter, to not worry the younger man. He has a feeling he’s embarrassingly bad at it.

He’s surprised when he turns around and sees Peter right behind him, brows furrowed with a mix of worry and something Tony couldn’t quite decode in this context. Tony almost spills his coffee over Peter, but manages to steady the cup with a gasp. “Kid? What the hell-”

“This isn’t healthy,” Peter says softly. “She can’t keep doing this to you.”

Tony shrugs and looks just over Peter’s left shoulder, taking a sip before responding. “She puts up with my bullshit, I sleep in the lab sometimes. It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“She’s hurting you,” Peter says, hesitating before touching Tony’s arm gently. “Not just emotionally, either. Your back hurts for days after you sleep at your desk.” The fact that the kid even knows that means Tony is as terrible at hiding his problems as he thought he was.

Tony shrugs again, but doesn’t move away from the comfort the boy is providing. “It’s real sweet of you to worry, Pete, but I’m really okay. ‘sides, she’s the only one that’s been willing to put up with me for more than a night,” he tries to turn the mood lighter, teasing himself so Peter will smile.

Instead, the worry is replaced with a mixture of anger and...and that emotion Tony can’t make sense of. “That isn’t true, Mr. Stark. I would--I know tons of people who would kill for a chance to be yours. And she’s taking advantage of it...she’s taking it for granted, acting as if you’ll always be there to take her back.”

Tony works his jaw. Emotions aren’t his strong suit, and being vulnerable is his worst nightmare. “Well, I will. I love her. There’s no one else.”

Peter swallows thickly, eyes flickering between Tony’s. “What if there was someone else?” Peter whispers.

Tony shakes her head. “There isn’t. No one else would put up with me, so it’s fine if she hurts my feelings every once and a-”

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you, if you were mine,” Peter says boldly, staring deeply into Tony’s eyes. Ah, that’s what that emotion was. “I wouldn’t ever give you up, even for one day. I wouldn’t ever make you feel anything less than my god damn sun, my universe.”

Tony’s mouth drops open, lips slightly parted as he takes in the words. He puts his coffee mug down, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks Peter over. “But I’m not yours, I’m hers.” He doesn’t want to hurt Peter, but it’s the truth. He and Pepper both know a break up is only temporary.

A flicker of hurt at the dismissal, but the kid is quick to regain his footing. “Not right now,” Peter whispers, stepping closer, getting bolder. “You’re single right now. You don’t have to take her back, when she calls for you. You’re single.”

“Not for long,” Tony protests weakly.

“You’re single,” Peter repeats, his lips a mere inch away from Tony’s. “Aren’t you?”

Tony lets out a shaky breath, looking down to Peter’s lips. The earlier words were so beautiful, so perfectly what Tony has always wanted to hear from Pepper. And his lips are so enticing, so pink and beautiful, and...and you know what, Pepper did break things off between them, didn’t she? She can’t be angry at anything he does anymore, he’s a free man. Right?

Fuck it.

Tony leans in that extra inch, connecting their lips softly. He waits for the feeling of guilt to leech into his brain, for the need to be loyal to Pep to hit him.

But it never does.

Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders, gently resting them so he isn’t holding on or pushing away. Tony isn’t as gentle. He wraps his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body.

Peter gasps softly into the older man’s mouth, one hand sliding up to tangle into the older man’s hair. Tony releases a contented sigh, allowing the younger man to slide his tongue along Tony's lips.

Eventually, Tony opens his lips and allows Peter in, enjoying the feeling of their tongues gliding together. They both get lost in it, time seeming to exist outside of them.

Tony only comes back to his senses when Peter starts to kiss down Tony’s neck. The older man is breathless, both from the kissing and the way Peter’s lips feel against his neck. “Oh, fuck,” Tony breathes, grinding their hips together.

Peter whines at one particularly rough thrust, biting down where Tony’s neck meets his shoulder. Tony groans softly in Peter’s ear, pulling roughly at his hair. “Careful,” Tony warns.

Peter licks over the mark in apology, sucking a mark right above it instead. Tony sighs in half annoyance, but doesn’t want the boy to stop.

He simply enjoys the attention, enjoys the touches, enjoys the memory of the words Peter had murmured earlier.

It wasn’t until Peter started to rub at Tony’s cock through his pants he realized he needed to stop this before it got too far. If he hasn’t fucked it all up already. “Pete,” he whispers.

“No,” Peter argues, moving his lips up Tony’s neck. He kisses at Tony’s jaw instead.

Tony sighs, pulling away gently and kissing Peter’s lips. “I can’t do this to you, Pete. I’m always going to choose her. And you’re too important to me to lose.” He cups Peter’s cheek, rubbing his thumb gently over Peter’s jaw. “We should stop while we still can.”

Peter scoffs at that, keeping Tony’s hand cupped to his cheek by cupping his own hand over Tony’s. “I’m not like Pepper, I’m not holding my mere presence as a bargaining chip to get what I want.”

Tony pulls away at that, sighing heavily. He doesn’t like Peter insulting Pep, but the words still make him feel warm inside. Knowing he doesn’t have to be afraid of Peter leaving him...is this what Pepper feels like?

Tony kisses the boy once more, and sighs softly. “My point still stands, Peter. I’m going to end up with her, sooner or later.”

“And I’ll be here,” Peter starts, finally pulling away but holding Tony’s hand. “Waiting for when she dumps you again.”

Tony has started to feel more and more guilty the longer he doesn’t tell Pepper about Peter.

When she first called him back to the penthouse, telling him he was forgiven and they could get back together, he had hesitated.

Pepper had shifted uncomfortably. “Well?” she had pushed.

Tony had sighed, and pulled down his shirt. It was just far enough to show the hickeys. “I don’t know if we can keep doing this, Pep.”

Pepper had simply sighed in annoyance. “So you got a one night stand while we were broken up, so what? Is she worth ruining everything we have over? Are you not going to take me back because of some whore that spreads her legs for you as soon as you ask?”

Tony had ground his teeth together, but made a quick decision not to out Peter. “No, Pep, that isn’t what I...I mean...Pepper, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m absolutely nothing to you. I can’t do this anymore.” Not now that Peter has shown him what he wants in a committed relationship.

Pepper had rolled her eyes. “Did she tell you that shit? She just decided I treat you like shit, huh? You’re going to let that whore tell you about our love life?” Pepper walked over and sat in Tony’s lap, her arms resting gently over Tony’s shoulders while one hand slides up Tony’s neck and cups the back of his head. “I love you, and I always will. No matter what happens. No matter what we go through, no matter how much you or I fuck up. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is that you and I belong together. Forever.”

Tony had melted into the words, looking up at her with adoration, but was unable to keep the conflict off of his face. “Pep...”

“Just tell me you love me too, and everything else goes away,” she had whispered.

“I love you,” Tony had said easily, and he had meant it. He did love her. He just...he knew he betrayed her. Far more than she thought he did. He didn’t have a one stand stand with a whore, he made out with a close friend. Someone Pepper has met multiple times, someone who has come up to their penthouse and had dinner with them. Someone Tony spends a good chunk of every day with.

And then there was Peter, too. He had said he wasn’t going to hold Tony’s momentary weakness over their relationship, but Peter can’t help himself. He can’t help the longing stares, or the lingering touches, or the way his eyes light up whenever Pepper dumps Tony again.

“Peter,” Tony had finally said one day, when the hand Peter had on Tony’s back slipped downwards. “You gotta stop. I’m sorry, but you gotta stop.”

Peter had only sighed, and pulled his hand away. He scratched the back of his neck with it. “You’re single again,” Peter whispered.

Tony didn’t say a word, only rubbed a hand over his face.

“You’re single again,” Peter said louder. “So what’s the harm in a one night stand?”

“The harm,” Tony said loudly, putting both hands on the desk a bit harsher than necessary. But then sighed and lowers his voice, looking into Peter’s wide eyes, sadness taking over his own. “The harm is...you’re more than just a one night stand, Peter. I can’t do this, because once I do, I’ll never stop. And the only thing I’ll do is hurt one or both of you, more deeply than any person should ever be hurt. And I don’t want to be that kind of monster.”

Peter had accelerated his breathing with every word, until he was practically gasping for air by the end. “You love me,” Peter accused. No, not accused...begged. He begged Tony for the words to be true, both with his eyes and his tone.

Tony hung his head, shoulders slumping in shame. “Don’t do that. Because I’ll still choose her, and you’ll still be heart broken.” He looks up at Peter again, feeling broken already. “And if you break, I’ll break.”

Peter just stared at Tony, looking both dejected and sad. “I want you, Tony. All the time. Every second of every day, I want you. And I won’t throw you away when you piss me off. I won’t reject you when you need me the most. And I’m not going to stop loving you just because you can’t love me back.” Peter’s voice breaks, and he steps forward, into Tony’s space. “I’m right here. Come and get me.”

Tony’s breath hitched, and then his resolve crumbled. He pushed forward, crushing their lips together in a kiss that was infinitely more intense than their first kiss. The first one was sweet, slow, gradually increasing in passion. This kiss was raw, hungry, and desperate.

Tony is a terrible person. He’s hurting Peter, even if the younger man insists he isn’t. And he’s hurting Pepper. He’s hurting her in a way she doesn’t deserve, even after all the shit she’s put him through.

But he can’t take it anymore. He loves them both, and he wants them both. And right then, in that short period of time, he could. He could have Peter, and the day after, when Pepper got bored of her little games, he would have her again.

And he will hate himself for it, every second of every day.

Tony knew it was a mistake before he even slept with Peter. But now, all he can think about is the beautiful young man. The way his back arches when Tony nails his prostate right on. The way his face screws up in pleasure, and his nose scrunches so cutely when he’s just about to cum. The way his curls feel around Tony’s fingers. The way Peter’s body gets so warm, it feels like fire when Tony rubs against it.

And now he knows. He knows what it’s like to be with Peter. He knows what it’s like to be with the man he loves.

And he knows how god damn awful it feels to crawl out of his sweet, warm embrace and right into Pepper’s waiting arms.

“You have more,” Pepper had said softly, pushing lightly on one of Peter's bite marks.

“You left me,” Tony says back, but he keeps his eyes closed. If she looks into his eyes, she’ll know. He knows she’ll know.

“I know,” she says softly. “Still.”

Tony shrugs. “If you leave me, I can do whatever I want. You don’t want me to, don’t leave me.”

Pepper kisses his cheek, before rolling over and turning off the light. “Just because we’re on a break doesn’t mean you don’t come back to me. You and I both know it isn’t a real break up. Tell yourself what you want, but when you sleep with whores, you’re still cheating on me.”

Tony bites his tongue. He bites, and he bites hard, until he tastes blood and he hears her even breathing. “Not a whore, honey,” he whispers, knowing she won’t hear.

Tony was guilt ridden. Pepper’s words had bothered him more than he thought they would. But she was right; they both knew it was just a game for Pepper. They both knew they weren’t really broken up. So Tony was a cheater, for sleeping with Peter.

Tony nearly jumps out of his skin as Peter enters the lab, reviving him from his thoughts. He turns his guilty eyes on Peter, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as bad.

Because Peter walks in, and he’s glowing. He’s whistling as he struts in, a giant pep in his step as goes to his station. Peter looks so beautiful, it makes Tony’s stomach drop.

And then Peter puts his stuff down and turns those big, bright doe eyes on Tony. And a brilliant grin splits across his face, and he looks so genuinely happy that Tony can hardly help but to breathlessly smile back.

“What’s got you so happy, kid?” Tony asks, fiddling with his wrench.

Peter laughs softly, and it’s music to Tony’s ears. “I dunno, I just feel good. I feel great, actually. I have since Friday,” he says, unsubtly hinting to their affair.

Tony laughs softly, but the guilt is starting to return. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, to ruin Peter’s happiness for even a second. So instead of saying anything, he just stares at Peter with a smile on his lips and love in his eyes.

Peter starts to blush after a moment and looks down, laughing softly once more. “What are we working on today, Mr. Stark?”

Tony allows himself to look just a few more seconds, before he tears his eyes away to look down at the plans. “Mark III for your suit. I think it’s finally time to give you a suit that never had training wheels, don’t you think?”

Peter had lit up again, this time in excitement instead of happiness. His face is just as beautiful. “Awesome! Lemme see,” he says, coming over and getting in Tony’s space. He looks over the plans, and Tony fights the urge to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders to make everything easier and less awkward.

It’s going to be a long day.

Tony laughs bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face. “What’s the reason this time, Pep? Did I skip a meeting? Did I forget to do the dishes? Did I not bring you flowers when you wanted them?”

Pepper snarls at him. Usually Tony just sighs and gets out, he never questions her. “Just get out,” she says, flicking her wrist dismissively.

“No!” Tony says, standing up from where he had been sitting. “No, not unless you give me a reason, Pep. I’m tired of playing these games, they aren’t funny anymore.”

Pepper scoffs. “Of course they aren’t funny! Fine, if you want to know--yes, you missed a meeting. An important one, because you were too busy playing in the lab with the kid.”

Tony’s nostrils flare, and he stares her down. “Playing?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. “That’s what you call my job?”

Pepper scoffs again. “Yes, playing! Because you aren’t making anything for SI, you’re making his suit-”

“You know what?” Tony snarls, cutting her off. He grabs his coat, slipping it on and grabbing his keys. “We are done. We are done, Pepper. I’m done.”

She’s stunned into silence, and he’s gone with the door slammed before she unfreezes.

He gets in his car and drives, drives and drives and drives until he’s gotten all the anger in his system out and all he’s left with is a bitter sadness.

The truth is, he had always known, known, he was going to end up with Pepper. He wanted to marry her, and have kids with her, and always stay with her. But he just can’t take it anymore. The games, the hurt, the uncertainty. It’s all too much.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s parked in front of Peter’s building. He shouldn’t do this, not when he’s hurting. Their first time had been so beautiful, filled with only want and desire, not guilt and sadness. He doesn’t want to ruin what he and Peter had over this.

But he didn’t drive away in time. Because there was Peter, tapping on the passenger side window with a concerned look on his face. Tony sighs and rolls down the window. “Hey, kid,” he greets.

Peter frowns, unlocking the door and getting in. Tony glares half-heartedly, knowing he wouldn’t actually be mad in any universe. “Mr. Stark?” he asks softly. “What’s going on?”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Tony admits softly. He puts his head in his hands, pulling at his hair in frustration. “I didn’t actually want you to see me like this.”

Peter doesn’t say a word, only gently rubs at Tony’s right shoulder. Tony can practically feel the frown on the younger boy’s face. He shouldn’t be here. Peter is too good, too perfect for this. He’s too kind to hear what Tony needs to say.

“I think it’s really over this time,” Tony says, voice breaking. He shouldn’t be here, but he is, and he’s about to hurt Peter.

Peter makes a sympathetic noise, letting his hand slide down Tony’s arm until he can carefully pull Tony’s hand away from his hair. He holds onto it, and Tony finally has the courage to look up at the younger man. “What makes you say that?” he asks softly.

And Tony doesn’t deserve Peter. Because here Tony is, broken hearted over the woman who was keeping Tony from Peter, and he’s not celebrating. He isn’t pushing Tony to think it’s a good thing, or making a move. He’s just listening. Comforting.

Tony doesn’t deserve this.

“Because I told her I was done. And then I walked out.” He sniffs, and looks sadly at Peter. “I don’t know anymore, Pete. I feel both like I’m done and like I can’t live without her. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I...why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I just decide I’m done with her, and be done? Why does it hurt this much?”

Peter doesn’t say anything again. He just leans over and hugs Tony, petting his hair softly. “Maybe you aren’t done,” Peter says softly, voice breaking. “Maybe you love her enough to put up with things you wouldn’t for anyone else.” He pulls away then, still holding Tony’s hand and looking deeply into the older man’s eyes. “I would understand that.”

He knows Peter wasn’t trying to hurt him with those words. But he did. Because Tony is an asshole, and he is treating Peter like shit. Peter is dealing with things from Tony he would never, should never deal with from anyone else. He shouldn’t deal with it with Tony either, but he has decided to.

Just like Tony is with Pepper.

“Peter, “ Tony whispers, holding back sobs. “Peter, I-”

Peter shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s hand. “I know,” he whispers back. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

Tony sniffs, thinking again about how much he doesn’t deserve Peter. “Invite me up,” he asks, sounding desperate and broken.

Peter laughs softly, sniffling himself and shakes his head. “Not tonight, Mr. Stark. I think you need to go home tonight.”

Tony looks away, down at the steering wheel, fighting the tears again. “Peter,” he begs again.

Peter only squeezes Tony’s hand, leans over to kiss his cheek, and opens the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark,” he says.

Tony lets out a shaky breath, slamming his head into the wheel. He stays for another ten minutes after Peter goes back up, before going back home.

He and Pepper have been back together for a solid three months, longer than they ever have been before. And Tony has been happy, these last few months. He feels like Pepper was so scared by Tony leaving, she doesn’t want to push it.

The bad news is, he misses Peter. A lot. And Pepper isn’t pushing it, so he doesn’t have any excuses to sleep with the younger man.

Peter has been more reserved lately. Ever since the night Tony parked in front of Peter’s apartment, he’s been more reserved and more...timid.

Tony misses the carefree laughter. The blindingly bright smiles. The love in Peter’s eyes when Tony gives the man attention.

Until one day, Tony just breaks. He can’t stand the lack of brightness in Peter’s eyes, and he misses Peter, and he just...snaps.

“Peter,” Tony says softly, making the younger man look up from his project.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” He asks, looking up. And that does it for Tony. He can’t see the sadness there anymore. He doesn’t want to, and he knows how to fix it. Tony walks around the table, getting into Peter’s space. Peter’s breath hitches, and he looks up at Tony with wide eyes. “Mr. Stark?” he whispers.

Tony puts his hands on Peter’s hips, swallowing the guilt he feels towards Pepper. “Peter,” he whispers back.

Peter’s hands rest gently behind Tony’s neck, crossed at the wrists. His breath comes quickly, and his eyes light up. “Did you break up again?” he asks softly.

Tony swallows, looking at Peter with hungry eyes. “No,” he says honestly. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Tony,” Peter whispers, eyes a conflicted mess. Tony knows Peter wants this, but he also feels guilty. Just like Tony.

“Kiss me,” Tony begs softly. “I want you, I want...I need you.” He doesn’t push the younger man, not willing to risk pressuring him.

Peter looks like he’s fighting himself, his eyes conflicted. But then the want wins over, and he surges forward.

Tony holds onto Peter’s hips harder, pulling the younger boy closer to him. Peter moans into the kiss, tongue exploring Tony’s mouth. They grind into each other, until Tony lifts the younger man onto the desk and then Peter grinds into Tony’s stomach.

Tony pants into Peter’s mouth, using Peter’s hips to encourage the grinding. He pulls away from the kiss, and Peter’s hands curl tightly into his hair. Tony shivers, kissing his way down Peter’s jaw and neck. The whines and moans the other man sings go directly to Tony’s core, and makes him feel even crazier and more desperate.

They pull apart only long enough to take each other’s shirts off, and then they attack each other’s mouths again.

Tony is momentarily distracted by the fierce kissing, but he eventually pulls away, panting into Peter’s mouth. He grins evilly, kissing Peter again once softly before falling to his knees. The action hurts more now than it would have if he were younger, but he doesn’t care that much. The gasp of happy surprise Peter emits is more than worth it.

They spend hours together. Hours of making each other feel good, of moving together, of being one. All over the lab, every which way. No surface in here is without a memory now. No where in his lab is just the lab anymore.

They end on the couch in the corner, Peter laying on top of Tony, panting together. Tony smiles up at Peter then, kissing him softly. He runs his fingers along Peter’s neck, satisfied with the marks he left behind. He asked Peter not to leave any where Pep could see, because he doesn’t want to deal with her knowing just yet. But he got to leave as many as he wanted on the younger man.

“Tony,” Peter whispers, shivering at the touches.

“Hm?” Tony asks softly, smiling happily up at him. Tony hasn’t felt so contented and happy in so long.

“I love you,” Peter says softly. He takes Tony’s fingers, kissing them softly.

Tony’s grin falters for just a moment, but he’s sure Peter caught it. He gets the smile back quickly, although it's slightly more bittersweet. “I love you too” he tells Peter truthfully. “I shouldn’t tell you, I shouldn’t do any of this to you...but-”

“It’s okay,” Peter lies, leaning down and kissing Tony again, feather light. “It’s okay. I’m always going to be here for you.”

Tony sighs softly. “I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

Peter blushes and smiles at that, as if it was a compliment and not a warning.

It had taken them a surprisingly long time to get up the energy to get up and dressed again. They were so happy in their little bubble.

Little did Tony know that Peter ran into Pepper on his way out of the building. And even though Tony has no marks, no evidence on him that anything happened, Peter does. In plain sight. And Pepper had almost let it go, but then Peter had looked her up and down and smirked, and she knew.

A few months after their affair started, things felt calm for Tony. Like for once, everything was going right. He had Pepper, he had Peter. Everything felt calm and nice and lovely.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

Tony sighs in annoyance, rubbing at his eyebrow. “Pepper.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Pepper shouts, arms in the air. “I want you out, we’re done!”

Tony sighs and stands up, scratching at his beard. “Over a missed meeting?” he confirms.

“Yes,” Pepper hisses, eyes narrowed. “Among other things.”

Tony shakes his head. “I thought we were past this, Pep. I thought we were done with the games.”

“And I thought you loved me!” Pepper shouts, tears in her eyes.

Tony sighs again, and his obvious disinterest grates on Pepper. “I do love you, Pep. I skipped a meeting, that doesn’t mean-”

“I know who you’ve been cheating on me with,” Pepper finally says, eyes full of tears. They fall, and she looks downwards, crossing her arms over her chest. “You didn’t just skip a meeting, you were with your little whore.”

Tony grates his teeth together, eyes narrowing. “See, I know you’re full of shit, because if you knew who I used to cheat on you with you wouldn’t-”

Pepper scoffs, looking up again. And that’s it, that’s the look. Tony knew he was going to do nothing but hurt her. And somewhere along the way, he stopped dreading it.

The pit of guilt in his stomach makes itself known now, though. And he, almost subconsciously, reaches out to touch Pepper, to comfort her. She leans into it, shaking her head in anger.

“I know who it is. I know. I don’t want you to spend time with him anymore.” Pepper tightens the cross of her arms.

“Pepper, you can’t...you can’t expect me to just...” Tony’s breath comes quicker, and he realizes the idea of losing Peter; not just giving up on the idea of bing with him, but never seeing him again...it makes him feel hollow inside.

“You don’t love me anymore!” Pepper accuses yet again. “You’d rather have that little skanky intern of yours over-”

“Peter is not a ‘skanky little intern’” Tony growls, pulling his hand away. “You like Peter, you’ve always called him smart and a hard worker-”

“That was before I knew he was a home wrecker-”

“What home?!” Tony yells, voice breaking. He almost regrets the words, but he sets his jaw and takes a deep breath. “You left me every other day. You made me feel like shit. You made me feel like I was worthless, like I didn’t mean anything to you. I have never felt safe or secure in this relationship, how can you call that a home?”

Pepper has tears streaming down her face, and her mouth is set in an angry frown. “And Peter...what? Makes you feel like you have a future with him? A pretty little thing half my age, who sleeps with the boss as soon as there’s trouble in paradise, you see a future with him?” She uncrosses her arms and starts to stalk Tony into the wall. “That’s the future you envisioned for yourself?”

“No!” Tony says, eyes full of anger and sadness and loss. “I pictured you and me. I pictured you marrying me. I pictured us having kids. I pictured building you a house, and raising our kids in it. I wanted to marry you! But you kept leaving me, and I didn’t feel-”

“Yes,” Pepper says, eyes wide and breath rapid.

Tony blinks in confusion. “What?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. And you can build me a house and knock me up and we can go far away from here. Just you and me. Yes, I’ll marry you.” Pepper leans forward and connects their lips softly.

Tony shakes his head when she pulls away. “I wasn’t done, I wasn’t pro-”

“I don’t care,” Pepper says, wiping her tears. “If you want that future, marry me. I’ll get word to the press, it’ll be the headlines tomorrow. Do you still love me? Do you still want me? Do you still want that future?” She cocks an eyebrow, lashes still wet with former tears.

Tony swallows heavily, unable to deny the truth. “Yes,” he whispers.

Pepper nods. “Then I’ll marry you. And you’ll get rid of the skank.” She turns on her heel, phone already to her ear, as she walks into their bedroom area.

Tony lets out a heavy breath, putting his head in his hands.

Pepper was right, of course. Every single headline in every single news network was about the world’s favorite on again-off again relationship finally committing to each other and tying the knot.

Tony is sitting at his desk in the lab, head in his hands. Every time he looks up, he sees somewhere he and Peter did something together. Every time he thinks about it, he misses Peter. And then he thinks about how he will never see the boy again, and he’s trapped, and he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

He winces as the door opens, and sighs heavily. “I said I want to be alone, Pepper, just leave me alone!” He can’t help the agony in his voice. He knows he’s being terrible to his future wife, but she was terrible first.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice breaks on his name, and Tony’s head shoots up.

Peter has obviously been crying. His eyes are red rimmed, and his hair is a mess. Tony’s own tear filled eyes meet Peter’s, and they both just stare for a moment.

“Peter,” Tony croaks, taking in all of Peter. It feels like this might be the last time.

“You’re marrying her,” Peter accuses. Because that’s really the only word for it. It’s not a statement or a question. It’s an accusation.

Tony takes another gulp from his tumbler, finishing off the glass and pouring himself another. He doesn’t like getting drunk anymore, but it feels like an understandable exception. “Apparently,” Tony answers.

“You don’t have to,” Peter says, tears still streaming down his face as he gets closer. “You can leave her.”

Tony rubs at his forehead, trying to think. “I know. I don’t know. I just-I...I don’t know.”

Peter goes closer, pushing Tony away gently from the desk and climbing into his lap. “Tony,” he starts, throat thick with tears.

Tony shushes him, kissing his shoulder softly. “I know. I know, baby.”

Peter shakes his head. He cups Tony’s cheeks, forcing the older man to look into his eyes. “I’ve been patient, Tony. I’ve waited for you to realize how much you don’t like her. I’ve sat aside while you went back to her every single time you left my bed. I supported you, and I gave you good advice, and I put you back together again when she broke you.”

Tony has his own tears in his eyes now. “Peter-”

“I can keep being patient,” Peter sobs, putting their foreheads together. “I can stay. I can wait. I can handle this, I can-can....” he hiccups, and lets out a shuddery breath. “I know I can do this, Tony. But I...marriage is so final, Tony. I don’t think you’ll ever leave her if you marry her. I’ll always be here, but is marrying her what you want? Is being stuck with her what you want?”

Tony closes his eyes, his own breath ragged with the pain he’s going through. “I love her,” he tries to desperately explain.

Peter takes a deep breath, leaning back just enough so Tony can look up at the younger man. “Then I’ll stay,” Peter says, wiping away his tears. He’s trying so hard to put on a brave face, and it breaks Tony’s heart.

Tony looks down after that, rubbing his thumb into Peter’s hip. “No...” the older man sniffs, looking up sadly at Peter. “She said I can’t see you anymore, if we get married. She found out it was you specifically, and she...she wants us to move away. She wants me to never see you again.”

Peter stiffens, and pulls Tony away. He looks into Tony’s eyes with fear. “No.” he shakes his head, sniffling loudly. “No, you can’t let her do that!”

Tony lets out a shaky sigh, leaning back in for a kiss. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Tony admits. “All I did was hurt you both. All I did was ruin everything. Just like I knew I would.”

“Don’t marry her,” Peter begs through a sob. “Stay with her if you need to but don’t--please don’t marry her.”

“She won’t stay with me if I don’t marry her,” Tony says brokenly. “I’ll lose her, and I...” Tony shakes his head, looking away from Peter’s fearful eyes. “I love her.”

“You love me too,” Peter begs. And the fact that he sounds even a little unsure makes Tony hate himself more than words can express. “Don’t you?”

Tony surges up then, capturing the younger man’s lips in a fierce kiss. It feels a lot more like their second time than their first. Full of desperation, need, want. He pulls away before it can get too far, nosing at Peter’s neck. “I do. I do love you. So god damn much, Pete. This would be so easy, if I didn’t love you.”

“Then if you love me, you-”

“Peter,” Tony says, sounding as agonized as he feels. “You don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. You deserve so much better than me, so much better than what I’ve done to you.”

Peter pulls Tony back again, standing up and pulling Tony with him so they can be eye level. “I know. I know I deserve better, but I don’t care. I chose you, a long time ago.” His voice trails off, and he leans closer to the older man. “I can’t live without you, Tony,” he whispers. “Can you live without me?”

Tony opens his mouth to immediately deny it, but Peter shushes him. “No. Think about it. Can you live without me? Can you be happy without me? Can you marry her, and have kids with her, and never see me again?”

Tony closes his eyes, picturing that life. He can see most of it. Him and Pepper getting married. Him and Pepper holding a vague faced baby. Them living in a cabin. Away from it all, away from the Avengers, away from Peter.

But even in his make-believe, Peter free scenario, he can’t help but picture his favorite picture of them in the house. The one with Tony giving Peter the Stark Internship.

“No,” he says honestly, opening his watery eyes. “No, I don’t think I can.”

“What about her,” Peter prompts softly. He doesn’t look like the man he loves just told him he can’t live without him. He looks unbelievably sad. “Can you live without her?”

He tries again, this time replacing Pepper with Peter. Marrying Peter. Holding a baby with Peter. Living in the city with Peter. Raising a family with Peter. Seeing Pepper in every SI meeting, every call, every surface in the penthouse. She would be everywhere, even if they broke up.

Tony hangs his head, wanting to just disappear. Wanting the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “She’s the CEO of my company,” he softly reminds Peter. “I would have to leave SI to avoid her.”

Peter laughs bitterly. “I’m not asking you to cut her out of your life, like she is me. I’m asking, can you see yourself happy with just me? Can you live without her as your lover, your girlfriend? Could you be happy with just me?”

And it’s like a lightbulb goes off in Tony’s head. His head shoots up and his eyes fly open.

Because yes, yes he can live with just Peter as his lover. If he doesn’t have to cut Pepper out of his life, he can happily belong to Peter and Peter alone. Because Peter has never given him ultimatums. Peter has never made Tony feel stuck, or trapped, or broken. Peter has only ever made Tony feel safe, and wanted, and respected, and loved.

Tony surges up into Peter’s lips, holding the other man as close to himself as possible. Peter gasps into Tony’s lips, protesting for only a millisecond before melting into it. Tony pours all the love, adoration, and thankfulness he feels into the kiss. Because for the first time in...in maybe his entire life, Tony feels sure.

He finally pulls away after what could have been minutes or hours, staring up at Peter in awe. “Yeah,” the older man says softly. “Yeah I can. I...I can.”

Peter sniffles, looking at Tony with teary, suspicious eyes. “Does that mean-”

“I’m not going to marry her,” Tony says quickly. “I’m going to end things between us, for good this time, and I’m...I’m going to leave her. And if you still want me, I want-”

Peter crushes Tony in a hug, eyes wide with both surprise and excitement. “I didn’t think you would choose me,” Peter gasps, burying his face into Tony’s neck. “I didn’t get my hopes up.”

Tony sobs once, and then laughs in relief. “I love you, Peter Parker. I’m so...I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize what I-”

Peter cuts him off with a kiss, then hugs him tightly again. “It’s okay,” Peter promises, sniffling as he does. “Worth it.”

Tony laughs softly, kissing Peter and pulling him close. He kisses the younger man deeply, but not too intensely. He doesn’t want it to get out of hand just yet, not when he’s still-

“This is why we are moving away,” Pepper’s low, warning voice sounds.

Peter practically flies out of Tony's arms, unable to look Pepper in the face.

But Tony can.

Tony sighs in annoyance at Peter’s warmth being ripped away from him, and turns his gaze to her. “Didn’t I tell you not half an hour ago to leave me alone?” he asks coldly.

Pepper mistakes his hostility for something it isn’t. She takes it as her winning, as Tony being upset his ‘last meeting’ with Peter was interrupted. “Sorry Tony, didn’t realize you and your little home wrecker were in the middle of something,” she sneers at Peter, and the younger man winces.

It makes Tony see red. “Actually-”

“But if you don’t mind, slut, my fiancé and I have a lot of planning to get to. Planning the wedding, planning the house we’re going to move to, planning what we’re going to name our kids. My fiancé and I have a lot to do, so I’m going to have to cut your little seduction act short for the day, okay?”

Tony works his jaw, seething in anger. “Actually,” Tony says, louder this time. “There is no wedding to plan. We’re done.”

Pepper scoffs and rolls her eyes. “That’s what you said before you proposed to me,” she dismisses. “No more games Tony, let’s-”

“You’re right,” Tony cuts her off. “No more games. We are done, we are not getting married. I’m not choosing you, I choose Peter. I’m not living without him, and you aren’t taking him away from me.”

A spark of fear lights up Pepper’s eyes, and she darts her eyes from between Peter to Tony and back again. “No,” she says. “No, you agreed to marry me. You said you wanted to marry me.”

“I did,” Tony says, and his voice softens just a bit. No matter what she’s done to him, and no matter what realizations he’s had in the last few minutes, he can’t just turn off his love for her. The woman he was in love with for over a decade... “A part of me still does,” he admits. “But I’m not going to. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do these ultimatums and these games and the manipulation. We’re not getting married.”

Pepper’s nostrils flare in anger. “Fine, we won’t get married. But you can’t see Peter anymore, I need you committed to me.”

Tony smiles sadly, scooting closer to Peter and wrapping an arm around his waist. “No,” Tony says. “I’m not giving up Peter. Ever. I’m giving up you. We are done, Pep.”

Pepper’s breathing quickens. “Tony, you can’t just-”

Tony shakes his head, kissing Peter's hair. “I can. I love Peter, and I want to be with him. We’re done.”

Pepper’s hands shake, and she shakes her head in denial. “Fine, keep your little whore! Just don’t throw away what we-”

“Stop calling him a god damn whore,” Tony growls, sympathy slowly dissipating.

“Keep us both,” Pepper says, ignoring Tony’s outburst. “Please baby, I love you! I’ve loves you for years, we belong together, remember? That’s all that matters, is that we love each other.” She steps closer, a hand outstretched in offering. “Please, baby, we love each other.”

And it’s so perfectly delicious. So perfectly exactly what he’s wanted for almost a year now. A nice, juicy worm wiggling away right in front of Tony’s face.

But Tony isn’t a fish, and he knows the hook is attached. He knows it won’t last, and the games will begin again. Until she manipulates Tony again, and until she hurts Tony again.

The older man looks down at Peter, seeing the building tears and the worry on his face. And Tony is again reminded of how perfect Peter is, and how much he doesn’t deserve such a beautiful, kind, loving person.

Tony smiles at Peter, and then looks back to Pepper. “No,” he says softly. “I want Peter, and I want him alone. I love you, but I don’t want you anymore. I want to feel safe, and loved, and wanted, and secure. I love Peter, and I want him. I choose him. You told me to choose, I choose him.”

“Tony,” Pepper says, barely a whisper.

“Effective immediately, our relationship is strictly professional. You are the CEO of my company, and I hold a lot of respect for you. But that’s all. Our relationship is no longer romantic or sexual of any nature.” Tony kisses the top of Peter’s head, pulling him even closer.

Pepper shakes her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t do this.”

“It’s already done,” Tony says with an air of finality. “Goodbye, Ms. Potts.”

Pepper scoffs, tears finally falling and she turns on her heel. She doesn’t say a word as she exits, slamming the lab door behind her.

Peter turns to Tony, looking at him with wide eyes. “Tony?” he whispers.

Tony breathes, smiling down at the younger man. “That wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.”

Peter sobs in relief, throwing himself into the older man and connecting their lips with a mixture of relief, happiness, hope, and love.

And Tony kisses him back, with equal intensity, feeling more sure than he has in his entire life.

#starker #Gracie's New Years Resolution #My writing #tony stark #tw: emotional manipulation #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: cheating #tw: alchohol mention #tw: angst

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Its a prompt! (And dont worry about it, absolutely love reading your writing XD) Okay so dimension travel, so we all agree in a world where WWX was raised in another sect (like Lan/Nie) That he would be absolutely adored by them and everyone, healthy relationships( even Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian wouldn't be on a bad term much because no WWX JYL interaction) so! Canon!WWX from post ssc timeline gets transmigrated/summoned to one of these worlds where hes raised by either Lan or Nie so 1/2

They're a bit confused seeing WWX in black clothes, and seeing his gaunt/tired appearance and him being so on guard around them (since he's usually open and loved) that they ask him why is it so? Does he not know Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue back from whicher place he came from, and Wei Wuxian goes 'Ive met them/we're not close' they ask 'sorry if its a bit personal but who were you raised by?' and WWX replies the Jiangs and cue everyone horrified cuz Jiangs areopen in their heavy dislike of WWX2/2

'It's my fault.' Nie Huaisang thinks as he frantically collects all the materials needed, 'It is my fault, I need to fix this.'

His er-ge was gone. His brother, Da-ge's pride and joy, the shining star of the Nie Clan.

Gone. Just like that.

One minute they're on an easy nighthunt and the next, Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to take an attack straight to his chest.

He knows his brother is gone. His body may be alive, but just barely. He's drowning in his own blood and there's nothing Nie Huaisang can do. There's no cognition in his eyes, that bright silver gaze is dull and blank.

He has to do something.

The ritual may not work. It came with so many warnings that Nie Huaisang lost the patience to read them all the way through. If something goes wrong, it goes wrong.

"Huaisang! What are you doing?!" Da-ge's voice is loud but Nie Huaisang doesn't pay any attention to it. The room is sealed and it would take da-ge some time to break through it.

"Nie Huaisang!"

Good, Lan Xichen is here. He'll take care of da-ge if something goes wrong.

"Huaisang!" There's a loud crash but he doesn't pay any attention to it, "Stop! Don't do something stupid."

"I need to save him. It is my fault, I need to save him!"

"Huaisang!"

There's a bright red flash and it drowns out everything.

---

Miraculously, he survives.

His fledgling Golden Core has shattered and melted into nothing, but he has survived.

And he has done it.

"Does your stupidity known no bounds?" Da-ge demands as Lan Wangji kneels by er-ge's bed and feeds him potent spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian is alive. His cognition is intact and his Golden Core is stable but he's soaked in Resentful Energy.

"You destroyed your Golden Core, Huaisang! There's no recovering from it!"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" He demands, turning around to look at his oldest brother. He ignores Lan Xichen's alarmed voice and focuses on Nie Mingjue, "Is his life worth less than my Golden Core?"

Da-ge locks his jaw but doesn't reply. Of course, Wei Wuxian's life is worth more than a Golden Core.

"Huaisang," Lan Xichen sighs, "a-Xian wouldn't have wanted this."

"Look at Wangji-xiong and tell me that again." He says bluntly. He is tired and drained but no one can convince him that reviving er-ge wasn't the right choice.

Xichen-ge doesn't reply because no one can look at the devastated expression on Lan Wangji's face and say it wasn't worth it.

Huaisang doesn't feel the absence of the core as keenly as someone else might. He had only developed it during the Sunshot Campaign, after all.

He isn't like er-ge or Wangji-xiong, with their powerful cores and potent spiritual energy. The loss would've been devastating to them but is only an afterthought to him.

---

They realize something is off when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at them with distant wariness instead of familiar affection. He looks around and is instantly on guard, "Where... Why am I here?"

He looks directly at Wangji-xiong, "Lan Zhan? What are you... Have you brought me here?" He demanded, his expression shifting to something hostile, "Are we in Gusu?"

"Wei-gongzi," Xichen-ge calls for his attention, "I know you're very confused but please don't be alarmed. We're in your home at the Unclean Realm, not in Gusu."

Er-ge narrows his eyes and Huaisang recognizes that expression, even though it has never been directed towards them. A look of cool calculation as er-ge tries to decipher their motives. "My home?" He asks.

Wangji-xiong knows er-ge almost as well as they do. He reaches forward, "Wei Ying, let us explain, please."

It appears that this Wei Wuxian is just as vulnerable to Wangji-xiong as his brother had been because he softens immediately. His body is still tense but he seems to be willing to listen.

"You died in this world, saving Huaisang's life." Da-ge begins gruffly. Huaisang winces at the bluntness but er-ge seems to appreciate it, his sharp gaze focusing on their elder brother, "Yes, this world," Da-ge confirms, "Our didi decided he wouldn't tolerate it and decided to use one of our forbidden rituals to revive you. He didn't read things clearly. The ritual dragged your soul from another world and placed you in his body."

Er-ge's expression is skeptical, "Our didi..."

Wangji-xiong sucks in a sharp breath, "Wei Ying," His brother's gaze moves to his 'best friend', "You are Wei Wuxian, 23 years old, the Head Disciple of QingheNie Sect, the adopted younger brother of Nie Mingjue and older brother to Nie Huaisang. You were adopted by the former Nie-zongzhu when you were six years old."

Er-ge stares at Wangji-xiong in stunned disbelief but there's no denial in his expression.

No wonder, Wangji-xiong never lies. That must be true in his world as well.

"a-Xian," Er-ge winces and looks at Xichen-ge, "You need to rest and recover. Your Golden Core is stab-"

Er-ge gasps and immediately sits up, placing his hand on his chest. He closes his eyes and almost violently summons his spiritual energy.

"Wei Ying!" Wangji-xiong calls out in alarm but his brother doesn't pay any attention, his focus entirely inward.

"I have my Golden Core back..." Er-ge breathes, astonished but his skin goes white and he loses consciousness.

They exchange stunned glances before scrambling forward to check on him.

---

No one can deny Wei Wuxian has changed. It takes a month for his body to recover but his heart is still unsteady. He puts on every appearance of being alright, but Huaisang has grown up with this man. He knows something is off.

It is only when er-ge decides he needs to start training again that things start to become clear. Er-ge has trained all of his life to fight with a Dao. His movements are powerful and aggressive, designed to overwhelm the enemy.

Er-ge's mind, however, is accustomed to the traditional Jian. He seems to expect his movements to be lighter, faster. More agile and less powerful.

The dissonance makes him clumsy and he loses his first fight against Lan Wangji in a long time.

"Wei Ying?" Wangji-xiong frowns, "Your movements."

Da-ge has his concerned scowl on and he grabs Baxia, stepping into the training field, "With me, Wuxian."

This fight is faster and more brutal. Huaisang almost wants to protest but he can see er-ge adjust and adapt quickly.

His eyes gain a razor-sharp focus and his battle instincts come to the fore. "Good," Xichen-ge observes, "He's accepting his body."

Indeed, he is. Against da-ge's overwhelming force, there's nothing er-ge can do but react instinctively. They engage in several bouts and keep at it for over a shichen.

By the end of it, er-ge is exhausted but faintly triumphant.

"Lan Zhan, again!"

"Wei Ying, you need rest." Wangji-xiong says with a shake of his head, "Don't strain yourself."

"Why were you fighting like you wanted to wield a Jian, didi?" Da-ge asks sternly, "You were hesitant and weak in some strikes."

Er-ge grimaces and Xichen-ge steps forward. It has been over a month and though er-ge has seen how much they all care for him, he remains wary.

"a-Xian," Xichen-ge begins gently, "You weren't a part of the Nie Clan in the past, were you?"

Da-ge's scowl deepens at the thought of er-ge belonging to anyone else but them. They had suspected something like this, of course. But they had hoped that er-ge would've still been a part of the Nie Sect if not the Clan.

Er-ge remains wary but sighs, "No."

"Not the Lans," Xichen-ge observes astutely, "Not the Jins either. Were you a rogue cultivator? Or from a smaller sect?"

Er-ge studies him before shaking his head, "I was the Head Disciple of the Jiangs."

"What?" Wangji-xiong asks, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, "Jiangs?"

Da-ge looks furious and Xichen-ge seems pained. No wonder, given how... problematic the Jiang situation is. That family is entirely unsuitable for someone as loving and giving as his er-ge!

Jiang Wanyin is a complex mix of pride and insecurity. He lags behind all sect heirs, though Huaisang is fairly certain their batch of cultivators is particularly skilled. Er-ge and Wangji-xiong are exceptional in every way and Jin Zixuan is barely a few steps behind.

In the face of such competition, skilled but ordinary cultivators can't help but be overshadowed.

Jiang Fengmian, according to da-ge, is a meek little imitation of his former self. The man that pursued er-ge's mother had been strong and wise. He had the skill, political acumen, and grace to be an admirable Sect Leader.

His marriage to Yu Ziyuan ruined him.

And Yu Ziyuan is a nightmare. The one time she met Wei Wuxian, she had left such an impression that da-ge had cut all ties with the Jiang Sect until its Madam apologized to the Nie Sect Head Disciple.

That hadn't gone down well and the relationship between them is still sour.

"Do you want to return to them?" He blurts out, unable to help himself. If Jiangs are this Wei Wuxian's family then maybe-

"No."

They still because that's a very firm no. It is a complete and utter rejection of the very thought of it.

"No."

---

Getting the whole story out of er-ge is like pulling teeth but between Wangji-xiong's pleas, Xichen-ge's gentle questions, da-ge impassioned demands, and his own begging, they manage.

This Wei Wuxian doesn't love them yet but he sees their love for him clearly. That softens his heart and they get to hear every painful, excruciating aspect of his past life.

Wangji-xiong looks furious, da-ge paces, Xichen-ge is pale, but all of that doesn't matter.

He recognizes the look on er-ge's face. He has never seen it on him before, but he recognizes it.

Er-ge expects them to reject him. To abandon him for his 'sins'.

"Well, I don't have a Golden Core. Can you teach me Demonic Cultivation?"

"Huaisang!" Is yelled from almost every direction but he only has eyes for his older brother.

He sees those tired silver eyes study him for a moment before they soften completely, turning into the color of liquid moonlight. "You brat," Er-ge murmurs affectionately, "The thought of you wielding that power is nothing short of terrifying."

"But er-ge! Can you leave me defenseless, just like that? Don't you feel sorry for me-"

"Huaisang!" Da-ge snaps, "Stop trying to manipulate your brother!"

"Really, a-Sang, it isn't right for you to-"

Er-ge laughs. It's familiar, loud, and openly joyous. Silver eyes sparkle as he looks at them, "Don't worry, da-ge, he's a hundred years too early to manipulate me."

Wangji-xiong huffs, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan," Er-ge teases, "How is that you manage to reprimand me by only saying my name? Shall I try it too? Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"And they're flirting again." He murmurs under his breath, drawing an amused look from Xichen-ge.

"Perhaps we really need to start betrothal negotiations," Xichen-ge says and da-ge scoffs.

"Not going to happen unless you're willing to part with your brother. Mine is my heir. He's not marrying into the Lans."

"Da-ge, be reasonable-"

Huaisang tunes them out and waves his fan in front of his face, his mind whirling.

He doesn't care about er-ge's marriage negotiations. He has bigger fish to fry.

Really, those Jins and Jiangs are getting too bold.

#short prompts #nie!wwx #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #anti jiang sect

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peakatseven · 3 years

Note

🎸 happiness, because this song is my spirit animal lol

And if you'd like you could do these too, I'm super indecisive so I couldn't shortlist oops. You don't have to do them all, I'm just horrible at choosing:

🌕 across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

📖 +📜 I'm curious

Congratulations on 700!!

u gave me a reason to go back and review some of what i already wrote for this novel which comes in really handy the day before camp nano starts SOO thank you so much ily <3 i dont have my guitar with me rn so i cant do the cover just yet, im sorry, BUT i can do this:

here’s a lil snippet of my work in progress “Swing By The Lake”. I’m really proud of how this scene turned out even though i put off writing it for the longest time because i hate writing sex scenes. it’s not an actual sex scene, but it pretty clearly leads to that. kindda weird that this is the first thing that you’re gonna read from me because i NEVER write sex scenes but whatever it’s actually pretty significant to the plot because it’s the start of Charlie realizing how much she actually cares for Agustina which is just... *sigh* perfect

things u should probably know before this: charlie is a 17 y/o girl who’s vacationing in this beach town where she met Agustina, a 21 y/o photographer from Argentina who is also on a trip in this beach town. they’ve been hanging out at the cliff of the hill that separates each other’s houses for most of the summer, both at sunrise and sunset because that’s just what people do in the argentine provinces and its also romantic af. it also kindda fits the feeling of your writing prompt so its a win win! i hope you enjoy this :)

~ i’m celebrating reaching 700 followers!! so if u want to, you can send me some of these and ill do my best to create something cool for you! ~

Charlie opened her eyes after what felt like a few seconds. The room was still dark, but she was restless. Looking out the window, the moon shined full and bright over the still ocean. In a split second decision, she grabbed a sweater before heading down to the beach. With her shoes on her hand, she walked along the shore. The water ran up to her calf sometimes, a bit too cold when mixed with the fog that filled her lungs. Charlie wondered whether it was too late or too early to be out by herself, but there was no better hour to sort things out in one’s mind. If it was truly Noemi who had seen Charlie and Agustina together at the beach, why hadn’t she come to tell her parents already? Was she really going to keep the secret for Charlie without her even asking? It was hard to believe. Noemi must be up to something, waiting for the right time and way to say it. Or to gather evidence. But, why? Was there really a chance for Charlie to deny her accusations and get away with it? As all the possible—and impossible—scenarios came to her, Charlie collected pebbles from the shore, her long nightgown served as a great bag to store them momentarily. She came to realize that it was near impossible to be anxious or fearful in such a calm atmosphere. Alone in the beach, under the stars and surrounded by mist, touching the water while collecting stones. Silence only being interrupted by the ocean against her freezing legs. It was as if God tried to comfort her with nature. As she kept walking, there were more and more stones underneath her feet. So much so, that by the time she came to the end of East-Watch beach, it hurt to walk barefoot. Charlie got away from shore and sat on a stone at the bottom of the hill. The same one where she’d had breakfast with Agustina almost 24 hours prior. She put on her sandals and made a split second decision. It almost didn’t come as a surprise when she found Agustina sitting on the cliff, just like the time they were both there for the first time. The foreigner couldn’t see her, but she was most certainly aware of her— the stones bounced on one another as she walked. Charlie sucked in a breath and walked slowly closer to Agustina. She wasn’t sure if what she was doing was right, it was a much wiser decision to just leave and never talk to her again. Deny everything Noemi might claim once they were back home and forget that whole summer even happened. It was a wiser and safer choice. Yet there she was, hand over the lady’s shoulder, almost touching. “Why are you here?” She said without turning around. Her voice was cold, colder than the fog or the ocean. This one froze Charlie inside out. Silence. “If you are not going to say anything, you should just leave.” Charlie breathed in to speak, but her mouth didn't obey. She remembered the last time they were together and how abruptly she'd run away. Agustina had nothing to do with Noemi, she didn’t know how terrifying it was to see her at that beach. And to top it all, Charlie avoided her when she walked, probably the entire way, to The Saltbox Inn just to see her. What was there to say after hurting her in such a way? "I'm sorry doesn't cover it." She finally spoke, sitting down and leaving the stones just behind Agustina. She didn't turn, but her breathing was louder. Faltering. Charlie hadn't noticed from afar, but Agustina went there to cry. "Oh, Agus." She said as she sat down behind her and embraced her into a hug that wasn’t reciprocated. "I'm so sorry." "Why are you here?" Agustina's voice was weak, it broke Charlie to hear such a light-hearted lady like Agustina be in such pain. And it was because of her. "I couldn't sleep." "Why?" Charlie took in a deep breath. "The other day, I thought someone from my town was there and saw us." Charlie said, she rested her forehead against Agustina's hair. She meant to go for a kiss on the cheek, but she was turned away. "So you naturally pushed me and ran off." Agustina scoffed. Charlie was speechless. She hadn't really been thinking at the time. Hell, she barely even remembered what actually happened. "And

then you never came back or called. And then when I walked the entire way to your place… you saw me, and ran away as fast as possible. Again. Of course I'm sorry doesn't cover it." "But I am sorry, Agus, please tell me what can I do to make it better?" Charlie's own voice cracked a little. She felt awful for hurting the girl beside her, she'd done nothing but given her the best summer she'd had in years. "Charlie." Agustina sighted and covered her face with her hands, shaking herself away from Charlie's hug. They were still side by side at the cliff’s end, their legs lightly brushing against one another as they swung with the wind. But to Charlie, not hugging Agustina felt like they were miles apart. She sat back before speaking. "Come here, please." Charlie begged. Agustina lightly turned her head, giving Charlie a chance to catch those slightly swollen green eyes. In an attempt to lighten the situation, she grabbed one stone and threw it over the cliff. It bounced off of a stone and then made it to the calm ocean, which brought a hint of a smile to Agustina’s face. "Please." She offered another stone out to the Latina, who grabbed it and sat back and rested her back on Charlie. Charlie pulled her closer, just enough so she could hold her with both arms around her waist. The sun must have been rising at that moment, because Agustina's face lit up in all the shades of blue. She threw the stone over the cliff, but Charlie didn’t hear whether or not it reached the ocean. She was too hung up on how Agustina’s lips looked especially soft from the side, glistening with what remained of her tears. Charlie brushed her thumb over the lower lip as softly as possible. "I'm sorry." She whispered before going for a quick kiss barely on the side of her mouth. "I'm sorry." She repeated and leaned closer, asking for permission. Agustina slightly turned and that was enough. Unlike any other kiss they had shared before, this one felt like they were both savoring every second. They were both so depraved of the other that every moment, every move was sacred. "I'm sorry." Charlie whispered as she moved from Agustina's lips to her jaw, drying the new tears with her own lips. She kept apologizing in between her approaches. All she wanted was to make Agustina feel better. She did everything she could think off to comfort her. Charlie kept kissing every inch of Agustina’s exposed skin, staring into her eyes before going further— silently asking if it was okay to do so. Charlie let her body take over without giving much thought to her actions. They were soon enough throwing their clothes aside, condemning everything that dared come in between them. There was nothing Charlie wanted— needed— more than to be closer to Agustina. As close as humanly possible. She needed to take the pain she caused away. “Charlie.” Agustina sighed when Charlie reached her stomach. She used a tone Charlie had never heard before. It reminded her of the prayers sung at Church, delicate and desperate with a hint of fear. Charlie froze. “Is this okay?” Agustina let out an audible sight, caressing Charlie’s cheek with her fingers, softly guiding her to look up. Agustina’s eyes were still a bit red, but they were also a slightly darker shade of green. “I-” She looked for the right words to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” “But I want to.” Charlie answered without missing a beat. She smiled shyly at the older girl, looking down as she soon realized what she had just said and what was about to happen. “But… I don’t know how…” She trailed off, resting her forehead on Agustina’s belly. “It’s okay,” She whispered. “I’ll guide you.”

#asks #micha's 700 celebration!#tswiftie #writing #sbtl

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

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When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle. (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing-

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend: You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol) That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot.

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol

#cutegirlmayra #aggressive writing #what not to do #sonic #nintendo #marketing #sega #commentary #rant writing #an example to help teach #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idw #sonic comic #sonic rant

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years

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Writing Prompts! Continuation for “Here Kitty Kitty” with Aizawa and Cat Quirk Pro Hero reader.

I love this little Prompt so much i- hfcrgb.

This is the third part for it! If you would like to read the Original Prompt and Part 2 its under the CattyAizawa tag!!!

A/N. This is super soft♥️ i hope its okay that its not a NSFW thing. (Pt3!)

Aizawa moved you into his home the day after youre heat started. He had to go back to teaching at UA soon and did not want to wait, he also did not want you walking around by youreself after a patrol while youre heat was around. You were upset that he had to go back to UA but there was nothing you could really do. He was a Pro Hero and a Teacher. When you were all moved in Aizawa brought you to his bed to hold and cuddle you . He nibbled at youre ear and you looked up at him purring loud untill he looked at you.

“Yes kitten?”

“When do you go back?”

“Tomorrow.” He answered , his voice low and exhausted. Poor guy did not want to go back.

You purred into his chest sending vibrations down to his legs . He chuckled pulling you close to him cupping youre face and kissing you gently .

“Youre making it harder for me to go back ya know. You think Nezo will believe me if i tell him my cat needs me?”

“Didint you use that line the three years i was there?” You teased nuzzling at his scruffy cheeks getting a chuckle out of him.

“Yes i did Kitten, do you know how many times id have to leave a meeting because you got into a fight with someone?”

“Maybe.. two..”

He nibbled youre ear making a “un uh “ sound and you squeaked trying to get away from him. Aizawa held you tight laughing for a minute.

“Almost every meeting i had for three years. Someone would run in and say ‘Aizawa, they are at it again’ and i would have to say to Nezo . ‘Sorry, my cat needs me.’”

You purred and couldint help but have a huge smile on youre face . Those three years of cat and mouse were youre favorite. Everytime he would drag you away from whoever you were fighting with his capture tape and just give you this tired ‘really? Again?’ Look .

“He might. Will you say it anyway and tell me?”

Aizawa laid you down getting ontop of you , he leaned down rubbing his scruff on you making you laugh and struggle under him for awhile. Aizawa cupped youre face kissing you lovingly and deeply. You purred making his face and shoulder vibrate . Aizawa pulled away to smile down at you and stroke youre cheek.

“Im pretty sure he would suspend me, kitten. I wont be here when you wake up too..”

He frowned at youre down ears . He really did not want to leave you. Running into you like this was the light in his dark world. Even when he knew you would be here when he got home , he still did not want to go. And youre heat worried him, it would last for at least a week and if he could tell it was happening .. then others could too. You purred up at him pawing at his face making him blink and lose his train of thought.

“Youll be okay kitten?”

“Yes sensei.. ill be here . I have no plans to go out when i dont need to patroll.”

He laid his head down on youre chest listening to you purr. As cheesy as it was .. it was his favorite song . The gentle vibrations mixing with youre heartbeat sent him into a very content and happy state. Sometimes he would even pull you to him placing his ear on youre chest just to listen for a minute while you ran youre fingers through his hair.

“Kitten..tomorrow im going to look up some things about youre heat. See if theres anything i can do to help while im not here.”

“Okay Sensei. I might.. have a nest when you get home. Its just a pile of youre clothes that have youre scent.”

“Is my scent that strong? I thought that was just Alphas and Omegas.”

“Well.. as long as you have a animal quirk .. you can smell it. And youres makes me crazy heh.”

Aizawa rubbed his scruff on you again with a tired smile on his face. “Oh kitten.. you make me so happy. That makes me so happy”

“You make me happy too Sensei.”

You kissed his lips and Aizawa laid his head back down listening to you purr all night. One of his favorite things about you was you stayed up all night sometimes with him . You purred for hours and sometimes would get tripped up because it tickled and you would have to stop and laugh. Aizawa would laugh and have to get up and get you some water. Sometimes he would spoon you so he could nibble youre ear and stroke youre tail too. Whichever he chose , you loved it.

In the morning Aizawa was already up watching the coffee pot. He was leaning on the counter with his arms crossed thinking.

The nest was okay, he didint mind that .

His scent could help you .

He sighed pouring his coffee into his cat cup taking a slow much needed sip. Was there anyone at UA he could ask ? He peaked in on you before leaving to see you curled up asleep purring quietly. He smiled watching for a minute. “Have a good day kitten.” Quietly he left the house and groaned up at the sky. He took another sip of his coffee and made his way to UA.

At UA Aizawa was in the teachers lounge browsing the internet for anything that could help you. The scent thing seemed to be a top result along with breeding . He laid his cheek on his palm resting his elbow on his desk groaning. He was so busy searching he did not see Midnight walk in . She went over to him to say hi but got no response. She blinked leaning down to look at him and then the computor screen. She got a huge grin on her face and she elbowed him breaking his focus.

“So whos the lucky lady?”

Aizawa looked less than thrilled , no one exactly knew you were with Aizawa. He groaned into his palm and Midnight elbowed him again.

“You cant tell anyone , no one knows”

“Sure thing , you can trust me.”

“Do you.. remember Y/N? Graduated last year?”

“Oh yeah! Where did you find her?”

“She was interning with the Wild Wild PussyCats. They made her wear their uni-“

He blinked realizing he told her to much but it was too late. Midnight was covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“Uhgnn.”

“Aizawa!!!” She slapped his shoulder making him lean forward and grunt.

“Keep youre voice down.. shes in heat i dont know how to help if im not there.”

She leaned down close to his ear. “Cmon tell me , did you do it there?”

“Yes.”

“Oouu!!! With all the students there Aizawa you naughty teacher!”

“Can you help me or not?”

Midnight giggled turning the keyboard to her typing something up . She pointed to the screen and Aizawa felt himself get aroused .

“It wont help her physically but it helps reassure her that shes youre wittle kitty cat!!!”

Aizawa closed the window and got up ignoring her , a small smile on his face.

You woke up maybe an houre after Aizawa left. You were craving his scent today and just him holding you. You had to force youreself to get up and get in the shower. When you got out you mewed all day for him . Laying in his bed wasint enough though..

You got up going to the closet pulling his yellow sleeping bag out and pulling down some of his shirts and pants. The pile of clothes fell on the sleeping bag and you crawled under it getting inside the sleeping bag mewing loud all day.

Aizawa came home to a quiet house, he went down to his room to see... a pile of his clothes ontop of his sleeping bag. He heard you purring and saw little movement in his sleeping bag. Aizawa snapped a picture on his phone and went over couching down liftinh one of his shirts to see youre sad face.

“Hi kitten. I brought you something.” He held up a little bag and you sat up falling out of his sleeping bag clinging to him.

Aizawa smiled squeezing you as tight as he could. He let out a very long sigh of relief . He was so happy to have you in his arms again. You peaked up at him mewing and he rubbed youre ear and kissed youre fore head.

“I missed you too Kitten. Here open this “

You sat down between his legs peaking in the bag . Youre ears shot up straight and you took the item out . It was a pretty light red collar with a heart in the front.

“I rubbed it on my shirt so hopfully it smells like me.”

You held it out to him and he put it on you and kissed you deeply. He wrapped his arms around you getting in the sleeping bag and turning you to face him.

“Like it?”

“..i love it.. thank you..”

He chuckled kissing youre cheek. “Youre welcome kitten”

#CattyAizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia class a #midnight

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buffintruder · 3 years

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I was tagged by @arofili, thanks! Would it really be the end of the year if not for self-promo-y fanfic writing ask games. This ask isn’t really centered around the past year, but I’m going to be answering some questions specifically for this year because why not

Name: Chi Chi, and I’m also Buffintruder on ao3

Fandoms: I am definitely am not the kind of person that sticks to one fandom to write fic in, but this year, I’ve written the most fma fics so I guess that’s my biggest one. Second place goes to Bartimaeus

Where you post: pretty much only ao3, but if you look through the ‘my writing’ tag on my tumblr, there’s a couple short things I haven’t posted on ao3 there

Most Popular One-shot: Both for this year and of all time, Reunion is my most popular one shot (the Untamed from Lan Sizhui’s pov). Which is ironic because it originally was a tumblr post that I only put on ao3 because it got so popular and i figured why not

Most Popular Multichap: For the longest time, Angus McDonald and the Case of the Soul Stealer was the top fic in every way, and it still holds enough weight to win the most popular multichaptered fic I’ve ever written, but just counting this year’s stats, my canon era Greedling fic Truth In the Eye of the Beholder wins

Favorite story you’ve written so far: the favorite story I’ve written this year is probably also Truth In the Eye of the Beholder. I worked very hard on it and am very pleased with how it turned out. It was also just generally a very fun process. I’m also just very proud of Quiet Heart, Hollow Body (a Guardian fic) because it’s the first romance thing I’ve ever written that I actually feel proud of

Fic you were nervous to post: For this year, probably my Solomon/Uraziel fic Perihelion. It was done for a fic exchange, so there’s already a bit of pressure to make it good because its for a specific person. Plus it was a romance which is not exactly my wheelhouse. Also I only had a month to finish it in and it ended up being almost 25k words long, so it did not go through nearly as much editing

How do you choose your titles: Uh... I either come up with the perfect title after lots of consideration (every once in a while), find a song lyric that works more or less alright (more and more this past year), or just pick up some sort of theme or concept that roughly summarizes the fic and sounds kind of cheesy but gets the point across well enough (like probably half my fics)

Do you outline: Ish? I tend to start writing a fic, then just jot down a few notes at the beginning of the doc when i come up with ideas that don’t fit the part I’m writing currently. If I’m working on a longer fic, I sometimes have a separate document for the outline which usually consists almost entirely of random notes for future plot or characterization I need to go back and add to the story plus a detailed timeline of when the events happen so I dont mix thing up

Complete: Almost all of my fics are complete, but not one Eposette fic that I posted the first chapter of and will most likely never finish (even though someone commented on it and inspired me for like a week to want to finish it..... rip)

In progress: The only fic that is currently incomplete on ao3 and I have actual plans of finishing is the Susan Sto Helit goes to Hogwarts fic. There isn’t a lot of overarching plot to it so I’m writing it as I go and I have a few more bits that I’ve started writing in that universe. I’ll get around to posting more eventually

Coming soon/not yet started: I’m just counting this as ‘coming soon to ao3′ because I really don’t want to think about the fics I want to write but haven’t started yet (but honestly, I just got pretty into Ace Attorney, and I think the next fic I start will probably be that)

I don’t know how soon I’ll finish any of these because I haven’t been writing a whole lot recently, but these fics I have closest to finishing. All of them are at the “i need to finish the last scene then do a bunch of editing and then it will be done” stage

1. An fma fic where Greed gets reincarnated when his soul floats off as he dies. Sort of outsider pov fic where he watches Ed give a lecture on human transmutation and gets his memories back

2. A Trobed Community fic from Frankie’s pov, basically 4 times Frankie heard about Troy and one time she actually met him

3. A Les Mis/Elisabeth crossover in which Grantaire flirts with the personification of Death. But like in a depressing way. (I actually was writing more of this before i stopped to do this prompt hah)

Prompts?: I’ve taken like.... two prompts this year that ended up being the same Bartimaeus cryptid au fic on ao3. I’m not against receiving prompts because who knows what might inspire me, and I’ve reblogged prompt memes a couple times, but generally I don’t do them a lot

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: My Lucifer au maybe?? It’s very far from being finished and I am not entirely sure if I’ll ever post it, but I’ve been thinking about it more recently and there really are things in it that I am very excited about so I hope I do manage to get it done

I tag @midnight-mismanagement @gallus-rising @cirth-ithil @incognito-archon, if you want to !

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boompowkablam · 4 years

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Favorite Fic Rec- List # 3

WALKING DEAD LIST

Just a list of some of my favorite stories. I’m gonna act like I remember how to link stuff it will be great. Pairings are going to be Daryl/Glenn and Daryl/Jesus. Maybe a Daryl/Rick thrown in IDK .

How These Days Grow Long By Never_Says_Die

This work is COMPLETE!

Written in response to a prompt on The Walking Dead kink meme:

Rick & Co. are finding it increasingly difficult to deal with Daryl's outbursts, his racist remarks, and easily-ignitable temper. They are in fact, considering just cutting their losses and telling him he has to leave when they come across another group of survivors...one of whom is very, very special to Daryl.

AU in which Glenn and Daryl have been in a relationship for a few years before the ZA, and were separated when Atlanta was overrun. Each think the other is dead, and Glenn ended up with a different group of survivors while Daryl ended up in the quarry camp. Story also assumes Merle would've turned his back on Daryl for getting involved with Glenn, so they parted ways long ago.

Action , Adventure, Love , Suspense,Sadness,Longing, Its just everything you want from a fic. Word count 100,538. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

The Diary of Glenn By ornategrip

Seasons 1 and 2, as seen through Glenn's diary.

This is so funny I love it! I wish I could make a podfic for it like whoa.

Word count 4,938. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

Ghosts Among Us By TWDObsessive

Daryl sees the dead. Not the walkers, the twice-dead once they become ghosts. It started since the turn and he assumes it’s his body’s reaction to the walker infection they all carry. One by one he experiences losses of loved ones and each of them come to visit him. And they all seem to be guiding him to Rick.

This was really good but also really sad to me. Mind the tags so you don’t read something upsetting . Word count 6,422. Pairing Daryl/Rick

Picking Up the Pieces By Riastarstruck

When Rick works night duty while recovering from the shooting, he becomes friends with Daryl, the young guy working community service as a janitor in lieu of prison time.

"If you found an animal in an alley and it was raining and you approached it, it would try to bite you. But if you could get it inside and feed it and take it somewhere warm, it would follow you forever. He's got that kind of vibe to him." -Norman Reedus on Daryl Dixon

This one is cute but also makes me feel sad even though it’s not sad.

Word count 21,161. Pairing Daryl/Rick

While the World Falls Down By oleanderedits @oleanderedits

They were supposed to have ten days to dispute the quickie wedding they'd had the night they'd been drunk. The world went to shit three days later. Part 1 of a series re-write focusing on Glenn, Daryl, Merle, and Maggie as what it means to be 'Family' is stretched, twisted, and redefined by circumstances no one should have to live through. Covers Seasons 1 and 2 and mostly follows the canon storyline.

This is hands down 100% my absolute favorite walking dead fic. It is so good I have read it so many times now. I seriously can not get enough of it.

Word count 48,284. Pairing Daryl/Glenn , Glenn/Maggie , Daryl/Maggie , Daryl/Glenn/Maggie.

Friction Match By vegarin

It's the end of the world. You can be anyone you choose to be." Daryl Dixon, at the end of the world.

I am not sure what it is about this story that makes me love it so much! I am working on a podfic for it right now so at some point I’ll have a link up for that.

Word Count 24,769. Gen no Paring.

Fall Into Your Arms. By doctorkaitlyn @banshee-cheekbones

“I am done with dating. And I mean it this time.”

Glenn is sick of his friends setting him up. He’s sick of going on bad dates and he’s sick of getting his hopes up and never hearing anything back. In all the time he spends not going on dates, he can do things that he actually enjoys, like sleeping or marathoning a television show or trying to find a better job.

He is done with dating. Seriously.

At least, that's what he says before he meets Daryl.

This is so cute and awkward I love Glenn’s bad luck.

Word Count 4,549. Pairing Daryl/Glenn

Dear Mr. Hawkeye By Psmith73

@psmith73

AU. Glenn is a struggling student neck-deep in debts. One day while trying to earn some money he gets himself in serious trouble. An anonymous benefactor offers him help in return for weekly emails describing events of his life. Jean Webster's "Daddy-long-legs"/TWD fusion. COMPLETE.

This is really good I dont know why I want to say human disaster Glenn but im gonna. I think its cause it references marvel hawkeye but also Glenn kind of is.

Word Count 20,552. Pairing Daryl/Glenn.

something keeps pulling me back to you By wardeness

Daryl Dixon sat on the steps of his porch, elbows resting on knees as he sharpened his knife. Katydids called around him in a chorus of chirping crickets, the sound only interrupted by the rhythmic scratch of metal on stone. The heavy air—a sure sign rain was coming, Daryl predicted—felt moist and honeyed against his bare arms. The evening was calm. Peaceful, even.

Peaceful, that was, until Jesus appeared.

AU after 6x11. Slow burn.

Super cute .Super fluff.

Word Count 64,037 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Daryl's Addiction By DestielHardcoreLove @bugandkitlove

Paul had no clue what was going on. It seemed as if every time he turned a corner he would find Daryl on his knees with someone different from the community. He didn't know what to make of it, what to even think but he did wonder how to get on it himself.

This was just really funny to me. Instead of talking I’m gonna make sure you catch me blowing the town.

Word Count 7,702. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Against the Dying of the Light By LottaCharlene

After escaping Terminus, Rick's family is at their strength's end. When the walls of yet another community loom over their heads, they must decide if they take the risk to seek refuge in this new community. They are met with a strange tradition that they are still willing to follow through for the sake of their family's well-being. Soon enough, they realize that they found a place that they could call home again. But the peace is treacherous and yet again they have to fight for their freedom and the lifes of the people they love.

Unexpectedly, Daryl is the one that has to fight for more than just his family.

So very good and sweet and sad and Gregory is a nut sac but you already knew that. Also I fucking love arranged marriage fics.

Word Count 108,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

Ripples on a Black Shore By Mugatu

For Daryl Dixon the world ended days before it did for almost everyone else, and it was heralded with a prerecorded phone message instead of a bang.

An AU fic where Daryl met Paul several years before the apocalypse.

Kind of sad but with a happy ending.

Word Count 200,540. Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

Cross Your Fingers By starclipped

Daryl finds himself wrapping his fingers around Paul’s wrist before a bandage can be pulled from the tattered box. And Paul peers at him when their skin touches, fierce eye to fierce eye, with… with such veneration. Daryl wouldn’t know that feeling if he saw it, he thinks he’s seeing it now and he can’t believe it, but he can sure as hell feel it; rolling off his hippie ninja in waves, seeping into Daryl’s soul. A gasoline soaked rag, simply waiting to be set aflame. That's what he's become. He swallows the foreign emotions that suddenly make him feel too big for his body.

So very good and kind of sad worth the read for sure!

Word Count 204,186. Pairing Daryl/Paul

Finders, Keepers By Joel7th

Jesus came to Alexandria to do trade and to see a certain grumpy hunter. However, he didn’t see said hunter; instead, just outside the walls of Alexandria he found a black cat – wait, was that really a cat?!

I found this so funny!

Word Count 10,148 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

All you need is twinkling stars and ancient cities By TooRational @toorational

Daryl Dixon of all people turns out to have the Ancient gene.

Go figure.

Or: The unlikely tale of a redneck from Earth and a Runner from the Pegasus Galaxy, and how they fell in love.

I fucking love Stargate Atlantis Crossovers and this was amazing !!!!

Word Count 16,454. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Help Wanted By Scababagorn

Daryl Dixon hasn't believed that he deserved to be who he really is. He hasn't ever felt safe enough. Is the reason that so many of the people he loves are dead. And then, suddenly there is a man named Jesus. And he likes to call Daryl "Dixie"

Cute,cute, cute I love it!!

Word Count 22,618. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

if the world should break By transstevebucky @gaydaryl

It's not like Daryl hates the guy. It's exactly the opposite.

Very cute. Be mindful of the tags daryl gets outed without his permission.

Word Count 36,343. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Misunderstandings in a Car Crash By Neeka

Misunderstanding. [mis-uhn-der-stan-ding]

Noun 1. Failure to understand correctly; mistake as to meaning or intent

Warning: Does not mix well with love and may lead to heartbreak

Dude like super sad face for like half of this but it gets less sad .

Word Count 18,614 Pairing Daryl/Jesus.

Breaking the Cycle By AidaRonan @bisexualstarbucky

Daryl's life seems to follow a cycle of pain and violence. So when he starts falling for his new roommate, he's more than wary about what it might mean.

But sometimes breaking a cycle means making a choice.

So very cute a little sad also be mindful of the tags.

Word Count 7,416 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Fables of the Reconstruction By Mugatu

It’s more than two years after the end of the world and six months after the war with the Saviors when Daryl Dixon returns to Alexandria.

This is just so good holy crap and glenn lives which makes it even better!!

Word Count 91,918. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

You're Like Me (a goddamn idiot) By yellowhairedrobot

Jesus tilted his head to the side. “If I tried to kiss you right now, would you kick my ass?”

“Yes,” Daryl answered, way too quickly.

This is funny and gives me extreme second hand embarrassment.

Word Count 6,395. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

the streets are full of strangers By smilebackwards @smilebackwards

When Deanna asks Daryl to leave Alexandria, he meets Paul on the road a little earlier.

I would like to say cute-meet . lol its very good and very cute.

Word Count 11,563 . Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is also a podfic for this.

[Podfic] the streets are full of strangers By Boompowkablam @boompowkablam

Length 1hr 7 mins

a heart that's on loan By smilebackwards @smilebackwards

Aaron and Daryl discover Hilltop on one of their scouting trips and find that the community has an interesting throwback custom for establishing alliances: marriage.

I LOVE ARRANGED MARRIAGE AND THIS IS THE BEST ONE!

Word Count 11,686. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Just Another Day By PezzieCoyote

What if Daryl was the one in charge? How would things be different? And what secret is he hiding?

Supernatural elements you know besides the zombies .

Word Count 9,950. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

Escape By AbigailHT, TooRational @toorational @abigailht

By the time the song starts drilling into his head worse than the headache, he's come to the conclusion that he can't do much. There's no way to get out unless someone unlocks the door, and even if he could, he has no idea where he'd go once he's out anyway. Nor has he any idea who has him. Or why. Or where. Or where home is. Or—Basically, he doesn't know anything, and even the things he does know are mostly instinct and completely unverifiable anyway.He's contemplating sitting back down again — he'll have to do it at some point, if only to preserve his strength, but the cold, and the dirt, and he's naked, his skin crawls at the mere thought — when the song shuts off abruptly.

Or: The Saviors' latest prisoner isn't quite what he seems.

Its just like everything you ever wanted out of Jesus in the show. So good a tiny bit sad.

Word Count 6,894. Pairing Daryl/Jesus

There is a podfic for this.

Escape By Boompowkablam @boompowkablam

Length 45 minutes.

#walking dead #The Walking Dead #daryl/glenn #daryl/paul #daryl dixon/ jesus #daryl/rick #daryl dixon #paul rovia #glenn rhee #rick grimes #MY REC LIST #podfic

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itssolonelyhere · 4 years

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I dont know if you prompts or requests but can you do a Sakura or Joker being sick and the other having to take care of them from Tyaku and Queen? I like both versions of her from each and wonder how theyd react to it.

To be honest, I never gave it any thought. This is a good idea to flex my writing muscles and give me a break from the mountain of revisions I’m working on. I’ll give it a go and hopefully, it’s not too bad… I’ll do one for Tsūyaku now and when I’m done work, another for Queen of the Rhombus. If you have any more, I don’t mind doing them.

Tsūyaku – Sakura’s sick in bed when J comes back from a job.

It's hot. Too damn hot.

Sakura groans and tears her eyes away from the ceiling to stare out the window. The snow's still falling and it doesn't seem as if it'll stop soon. It's a beautiful sight that would have delighted her on most days, but she can't find it in herself to relish the view.

Green eyes watch the feathered crystals dancing in the wind, twirling around as it gently falls to the ground. It's a struggle to crane her neck up, hoping to see how much area it covers since she fell asleep. To her surprise, everything outside is pure white, leaving nothing untouched. The dead trees and grass, the bench where she likes to sit on to read, the van parked alongside the building, even the wrap-around porch. All blanketed by winter's frosty kiss and it's so dazzling that it's hard to look at for too long.

The darkening sky is still white, but she can tell it's getting late without rolling over to check the clock. Dropping against the mattress, Sakura lets out a shuddered breath and swallows hard. Being sick is a miserable experience that leaves her with nothing to do aside from mulling over everything that worries her. It's foolish, she knows, but part of her is still concerned.

Joker's been gone for a few days, which isn't unusual at all. Sometimes he stays for brief periods in the city for his 'job', but always comes back. Usually, it's with a cocky smirk and filthy clothes, yet on those few occasions that he doesn't… Someone ends up in the basement where he spends hours doing God-knows-what with his tools. The pinkette knows what goes on down there and it's not a secret, either.

That area is off-limits, especially to her, and Rocco is the only one that's alive who's seen it. If curiosity got the best of her and she took a tour, it will only haunt the pinkette's days and night. She doesn't enjoy that kind of 'entertainment' and Joker knows that. Snooping around might end up in a little punishment, but that's about it. Anyone else would be terrified at the thought, and rightfully so. Her discipline doesn't end with broken bones, missing limbs, or death.

Hearing the familiar stomping up the stairs, Sakura wants to push herself up the bed to greet him. Another trickle of sweat trails along the pale skin of her face from the effort, but she can't muster the strength to even sit up. It's pathetic to find herself in such a state, especially with her abilities. The pinkette can't remember the last time she was sick, let alone to this degree. With a strained groan, she gives up and settles into the mattress, waiting for him to burst through the door.

The doorknob twists and she peers over the fluffy duvet to see a tall figure standing at the threshold. Just as she expects, Joker looks like a mess as he stalks into the bedroom, leaving a wet trail of shoe prints across the hardwood floor. His purple trench coat has splotches of ash and dried blood, mixed with other substances she'd rather not think about. The greasepaint is smeared and missing in patches, revealing his tan skin beneath, with the rest weeping down his face. As always, J's hair is a faded, stringy mess that never listens to any commands, just like its owner. No matter when she catches him, he forever has the appearance of a wild madman.

And that's just fine.

Right away, his brow furrows when he notices her lying beneath the covers, unnaturally pale and sweaty. Usually, Sakura is busy doing something or another, whether it's reading or wrapped up in a craft. Not today. Those black pits in his sockets narrow on her as he shrugs off his trench coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. They make her want to shrink into nothingness, no matter how many times she gazes into them.

He moves to stand at the end of the bed, staring without saying a word. It's hard to tell if he's in a pleasant mood or not when it's like this. No one's better at keeping everything hidden than him, whether it's his thoughts, feelings, or intentions.

"I missed you…" Her voice is low and raspy, trying to suppress a cough working its way up. All-day the pinkette's been hacking up and the sensation of blades dancing along her throat won't go away.

The side of his mouth quirks up at her words, even if it seems like someone's tugging on it with a fishline. She knows Joker won't repeat it back, but it's his eyes that give him away. He always says they're the gateway to the soul and in the privacy of their room, they can reveal what his words won't.

"You're sick." It's not a question or guess, and she knows it. He can always tell when something's off or not right, no matter if she tries to hide it. They grew up together, and he's already seen it all, even if she's still missing pieces to their puzzle.

Sakura gives him a weary, apologetic smile, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. When he comes home, she likes to greet him and show how much she missed him, whether he disappears for a day or five. Right now, her aching muscles can't bear to even get herself up.

"Hmm…" Joker grunts and saunters off towards the bathroom and she almost calls after him. From the looks of his clothes, he can use a good shower, but those are trivial matters to him. Even if she wants to spend time with him, he's a busy man and has been gone for days.

Sighing, the pinkette leans back against the pillow and closes her eyes. Jack will come to her when he's ready and needs his space. Who knows what kind of shit-show he just pulled off? She might as well try to get some sleep and hopefully, this sickness will run its course faster.

'I need to get better soon. I'm useless like this.'

Something sopping wet and cold drops onto her face, jolting Sakura back to her senses. Sputtering from the water running down her skin, she reaches up in surprise and yanks it away. Joker's looming over the side of the bed and arches a brow, trying to hold back a cackle she knows is coming. Glancing at her hand, there's a soaking, wet rag he didn't bother wringing out.

'Fucking figures…'

"Keep it on your forehead, doll." Despite his expression, there's something playful in his pitch-dark, glassy eyes. When she doesn't move, he snatches the rag and folds it over, smacking it against her forehead. Beads of cold water trail down her temples into the pink hair strewn over the pillow and she bites her lip to keep back a retort. Most people would see this as being heavy-handed and crude, but she knows better. This is his version of care and it's the best he can do. This is more than she can ask for. It's the intent and effort that's appreciated, even if J's harsh with everything he does.

The cool rag feels heavenly against her heated skin and she breaks out in goosebumps from the difference. A breathy sigh spills from her lips and he smirks at the reaction.

"We're not done yet." Sakura finally notices what's in his gloved hand. A bottle of medicine and a spoon. She has no clue where the spoon came from and doesn't ask. It'll only result in a vague or arrogant remark, neither she wants to deal with at the moment.

Watching him fiddling with the cap, the pinkette can't help recalling all the times she did this in the past for him. Eight years ago, when his mouth was healing after being slashed open. He consistently kept tearing the stitches open, and they became so infected, yet he refused to go to the hospital. Jack was always so goddamn stubborn and never listens, even if it results in making himself suffer twice as long.

"Open up." The spoon is right near her lips, and she grimaces from the strong scent of the medication. It's dark red and reminds her of blood, but she'd rather smell that over this. Noticing her expression and distaste, gloved fingers pinch her stuffy nose, and she reluctantly opens her mouth. The nasty liquid runs down her throat as the metal clangs against her teeth, making sure she takes all of it.

"Don't spit it out or I'll have to punish ya." Joker pops his lips, ignoring the way she's kicking her feet around under the covers and the disgruntled noises eating away at the small amount of energy she has left. It's disgusting, and he knows how much she hates medicine, but she needs it. Sometimes people have to do what's necessary for the ones they care about.

"Gross!" She swats his hand away from her nose, letting annoyance overpower her exhaustion. If looks can kill, Batman would have one less chaotic problem to deal with.

"How 'bout ya just relax? Hmm? Ya won't get better by being a pain in the ass." This time, J doesn't restrain the cackle that's been building up in his chest. It's harsh on the ears, but Sakura finds it enjoyable and contagious, causing her annoyance to wane. She can never stay angry at him long, no matter what he does.

"That's my girl." He leans down and kisses the tip of her nose, leaving a red smudge behind. That only makes his fit worse, falling into hysterics. She never understands why he finds leaving greasepaint on her face so funny, but that doesn't stop her from smiling.

"Heh. Looks good on ya." Grabbing the rag, he wipes it off before dropping it back in place. She frowns at the water running down her neck, even if it feels good. J is such a weird man, but she loves him anyway in all his vicious glory.

Joker's eyes don't leave hers as he toes off his battered dress shoes and starts plucking the buttons of his green waistcoat. When he was standing next to the bed, she noticed everything's wet and cold from being out in the snow. If the pinkette wasn't so sick, she'd help take it all off for him and use herself as bait to tempt the clown into a hot shower. That's the best way to get him cleaned up, otherwise, he doesn't care about any of it. He'll go filthy for days without batting one of those heavy, shadowy lids.

"How'd it go? Did you guys have any problem with the snow?" Jack frowns after throwing his belt on the floor when the inquiry causes a coughing fit that makes her small body shake beneath the duvet. His lip curls up and she thinks he's about to snarl, but it doesn't come. Stamping across the hardwood floor, he clicks his tongue and throws the covers off his side of the bed and flops down.

For a moment, Sakura thinks he might be angry that she asked. Since the day they ran into each other, he never really liked talking about his 'job' to her but has been opening up a little more as time goes by. Sometimes he complains about a goon making a grievous error that Joker rectifies with a bullet or attempts to lure the Bat out from whatever cave he's been hiding in after Dent's death. The pinkette finds it all fascinating and exciting, even if it's terrible, but this is who Jack is now. He revels in the explosions and fires, all the mayhem and complicated plans.

"Shaddap if it hurts to talk." He grunts and slides across the mattress, dragging the duvet back over. Sakura shifts to look at him, watching the clown leaning his bare back against the headboard. The muscle in his cheeks twitches and he mutters something under his breath, but she can't pick up on it.

'What's he doing now?'

"C'mere." Despite telling her to come to him, he scoots over and the bed dips under his weight. Laying on his side, J moves closer until there's no room left. She knows he missed her, even if the words won't come out. Actions always speak louder and prove more than anything else. Sweet-nothings and heartfelt confessions are what most people yearn for, but Sakura would rather a man show her the truth than speak lies.

This is his form of care, even if it's gruff and obnoxious. Jack's violent, arrogant, manipulative, and downright cruel most of the time. However, it's those specks in between that’s saved especially for her that makes the rest inconsequential. The clown keeps her safe from the other monsters that lurk in the shadows throughout the city. They won't hesitate to rip her to pieces or abuse her ability, unlike this man. He likes the pinkette staying whole, even if their nights result in minor cuts and bruises in the shape of a large hand or long fingers. It's nothing she can't heal and they both have fun causing them. That's what happens when a man's rough in bed and he does it right.

Sakura closes her eyes when he buries his face in her hair, greedily breathing in her scent. J treats it like huffing in fumes he's trying to high from and never wants to stop. A hand slithers under the sheets and rests on her abdomen, drawing lazy circles over the thin fabric of her shirt with his fingers. He's been doing this more often lately, and she's not sure why but is worried he might stop if she asks. It's soothing and helps lull her into a peaceful state, letting all the worries from outside the bedroom melt right off her shoulders. Nothing matters anymore, except the two of them.

The small action elicits a groan from the pinkette as she leans her head against his chest, finding a comfortable spot. His skin is always so warm as if the fire he loves so much dances just beneath the surface. It's like having a safe, heated blanket wrapped around her that no one can get through. As long as she stays here, nothing can touch her besides him and the thought is oddly pleasant.

"Well, doll… Since ya asked so nicely and you're stuck in bed, might as well give ya some entertainment while I'm here." Sakura knows what that means. He wants to paint a vivid picture of his exploits from his excursion in the city, yet is trying to make it seem like he's doing her a favor. The showman in him enjoys the applause and awe he's able to draw out from her by giving every gory detail and miraculous feat, becoming completely smug from his ingenuity and perseverance.

"Great. I want to hear it." She coughs again and her voice is still raspy. He can feel her muscles jolt from each one as his fingers pulse against the flimsy material. The moment the fit stops, the pinkette jerks when he pinches her cheek, giving it a little tug to get his point across.

"I thought I told ya not to talk if it hurts? Hmm?" Glancing up, he has an exaggerated frown that almost looks like a wide smile from her angle. His tongue snakes out to prod the broken skin of his scar, waiting until she slowly nods before continuing.

"Good. Just re-lax and I'll tell ya all about my little run-in with the, ah, Bat."

#Heath Ledger Joker #joker #joker x sakura #oneshot #care #couple stuff #sweet and sour #caveman #the dark knight #crossover #Sakura Haruno #Naruto crossover #fanfiction #medicine #crime #request #I like this

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halorocks1214 · 4 years

Text

the law of relativity

AO3 Link

Word Count: 9963

Summary: The Law of Relativity states that each person will receive a series of problems (‘tests of initiation’) for the purpose of strengthening the ‘light’ within. We must consider each of these tests to be a challenge and remain connected to our hearts when proceeding to solve the problems. This law also teaches us to compare our problems to others’ problems and put everything into its proper perspective. No matter how bad we perceive our situation to be, there is always someone who is in a worse position. It is all relative

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | Virgil | You are here! | Gordon

WHY 👏🏼 CANT 👏🏼 I 👏🏼 WRITE 👏🏼 FICS 👏🏼 IN 👏🏼 MO 👏🏼 DER 👏🏼 RATION 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 also just bluuuergh. dont ask about this fic. part of it was written in a dark auditorium, another was written in a different state, another was written on a frickin bus, this fic has been places ill tell you what. half the time i think this is hot garbage and the other half i think its actually decent so im posting this while my head is in a good headspace and then promptly yeeting myself off the internet for a few hours to wait and see what happens. this series is becoming less of a canon divergence AU and more of a straight-up AU because of certain details im trying to worm in there buT IM TRYING MY BEST

thanks once more to @gumnut-logic, because of the length, this time i used three prompts, them being "What do you mean?", crease, and dream (and they werent even used that much sksksksk)

Warnings for both graphic and non-graphic depictions of violence, as well as mentions of torture and other PTSD/panic attack related stuff. I went deep with this one fellas

Orphan.

The word tasted dirty in his mouth.

He can still see the footage in the backs of his eyelids from when he watched it exactly one year ago. He was the only other (living) adult at the time in the family outside of Grandma, so he was permitted to see it. He remembered they originally didn’t want to show him, mainly because of his age, but Grandma was fierce, and she put one hell of an argument on the table.

One Scott refused to let fall through the cracks by breaking down. If only Grandma knew how he cried his eyes out and screamed to high heaven that night in the hotel room after essentially watching his father be blown to bloody smithereens then she was a goddamn saint for keeping it a secret. It made sense, she was the mother to his father. She had quite the line up of stories from Jeff’s childhood. Scott sensed the early-greying of his hair came from her, heh.

The rest of his family eventually saw it, of course, they did. Scott couldn’t shield them forever. What he will protect, selfishly he might add, was how angry he was at how much better they took it than he did. They cried, yes they did, but they never fully broke down like Scott did. Later in life, he wondered if it was jealousy: jealousy at not truly being able to let go. Whatever it was, he made sure to swallow it along with whatever alcohol he chose for the weekend.

Just add it to the ever-growing pile of shit he had to deal with. Nothing new.

Suddenly he’s 20 again and seated in a plane to be taken to his first stint in the Air Force. He said his goodbyes to Virgil, Gordon, and Alan back at home while Grandma and John metaphorically held his hand all the way to the airport. John was… quiet, more so than usual, but Grandma was stuck right in the middle between being a sobbing mess and ecstatic at the fine young man he’s become.

You’re just like your father. He would be proud.

Scott was secretly glad she never physically said it. It gave him plausible deniability in thinking that those words weren’t laced behind her big, bright, prideful eyes.

The first time went well, maybe even great. He stayed for a couple of months, did some flight tests, and while the training was brutal, boy did he learn a lot. When he came back home it was to a family slowly stitching itself back together. Grandma was a full-time house member, Virgil had taken up painting, Gordon talked about potentially going back to his swim meets, and while Alan was still as silent as ever, he was perkier than when Scott last saw him.

It would be on and off for the next few years: a couple of months at home, slowly and painfully taking over the role their father had (he can’t remember when he essentially received joint custody of his younger siblings with Grandma, but hey, he’s not complaining), then a couple of months out at the Air Force base where he slowly climbed up the ranking platform. He became skillful, perhaps too skillful. When he got his rank of Captain he felt it was less of an honor and more of something they owed him.

He was getting cocky. Never enough to be a danger to his fellow men, but enough to be somewhat of an occasional annoyance. Charles smacked him upside the head more than once. It felt like the world was right-side-up for once. Scott made many-a-calls to John and Virgil, the former enjoying his first few rotations up in space and the latter squarely in the middle of college. Gordon was being offered sponsorships to hell and back, and Alan was quietly getting along with the other kids at his school. Grandma was on welcoming duty for Kayo, who was taking her slot in the Tracy family with grace, though, a warning that their family would take custody of her if something were to happen to her parents would have been nice, Dad.

Of course, nothing ever goes right for their family for too long.

Orphan.

Age 24, it was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission of civilians. Scott was put in charge of his squad and then some. At night, they rolled-- well, flew out to get the job done. Scott can’t even remember the country anymore when minding his own business. Australia? Finland? Perhaps Bangladesh? There was a place John was insistent Scott never do rescues in, Virgil tended to agree, and the eldest unhealthily let them banish him from ever stepping foot there without argument. He could never remember the name off the top of his head until John’s familiar International Rescue, we have a situation rung out in the living room followed by the name of the country.

He would immediately forget it later, trauma too strong, too volatile, but the way his heart stopped and his head shattered and the way he felt ice water rush down his back was a good enough reason to quietly leave the room and let John delegate the job to one of his brothers. Sometimes John found him retching in the toilet halfway through the mission. He made sure to always mute Scott’s wrist communicator, even if it was never turned on in the first place.

The plane touched down. Orders sent the ground team out. But then the ground team took longer than estimated. Scott tensely waited where he was told to. It wasn’t the first mission that took a little longer than predicted and knowing humans, it surely wouldn’t be the last. Then, words mixed with heavy static came over the radio. H--p. Co-- ---7--. --nd ba---p --me--at--y.

Scott sat tensely in his seat, remembering his orders and suddenly hating them. Radio back to home if the mission goes south. Well, it didn’t look like they had the radio anymore. Still didn’t hurt to try at least. Scott spoke the familiar protocol that was ingrained into him when trying to call base. Dammit. Nothing. Probably some kind of blocker of sorts. Sitting up straight as a board, Scott looked through his options.

… He was in charge here. If something happened to his team the fault would lie squarely on his shoulders. Going against everything but his gut, he went out to help his squad. He can’t really remember what he exactly did anymore, but he does remember that it made a noise. Like a Looney Tunes scene: he flinched, froze, waited to see if anything or one heard, breathed a sigh of relief, and continued.

He eventually stumbled across one of his closest comrades, Arnold Brigeets. Yes, the name was ironic and half the reason he joined the force in the first place. The guy was one of the people that actually trained Scott and also seemed to be one of the few that was genuinely proud when Scott became a higher rank. It’s why Scott was more appreciative of Arnold than others, that, and well… Scott thought his fatherly abilities were good. The guy did have three kids back home.

Orphan.

Ducking down behind the cover his older friend was semi-situated behind, Scott watched as Arnold jumped at the intrusion before sighing. Scott had run into some enemies that he swiftly took down-- nothing too serious, he didn’t have the time or weapons for such an act, but they definitely would be out of it for a while-- so Arnold must have too on his way to find cover as well, hence why he was so on edge.

“Thank God,” Arnold wiped his forehead, “Glad to see you join us, kid.”

Scott was breathing heavily, but the grin he attempted was still there, “Y-Yeah, so what happened? More threats than we thought?”

Arnold shook his head, “Yes and no. There were a lot more baddies than we thought, but that’s because the civilians weren’t civilians. It’s a tr--”

Boom. The familiar sound of a gunshot.

Arnold fell over. Never got back up. Dropped like a rock in a lake, never to come up to the surface again.

Scott was so caught off guard he couldn’t react to the gun that swiftly beat him over the head, knocking him out cold. The only thing on his mind was oh fuck oh fuck I messed up I shouldn’t have come I wouldn’t have made any noise that way why did I--

They had him for roughly two weeks. Scott always thought the plotline in movies where the villain vehemently denied knowing any important information was dumb as hell. We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t go after someone if they didn’t know something.

The things they did hurt and no amount of I don’t fucking know anything! would help. Those two weeks were lost to Scott in a sea of pain and torment. The only thing he remembered was being captured, then waking up in a hospital drugged up to his gills with his superiors staring at him like he cured cancer.

“You saved the rest of your squad from sharing the same fate as the first half.”

“I-I did?”

“You betcha, son. I only wish I was there to see it! People be saying you were like an animal in how you took ‘em all down.”

Scott’s never remembered, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He was given the highest honors, even the chance to skip a couple of ranks to be at the same level as the big boys, but the night they were going to share the news to the golden boy himself, they found him in one of the bathrooms with a bloody hand and a mirror shattered with no hope of fixing it.

He was honorably discharged to a family that was so thankful he was home. Words like missing in action and POA never stopped haunting their nightmares. Scott was too, God, of course, he was, but sitting around and doing nothing was the last thing his traumatized mind wanted or maybe even needed. After doing what he considered to be the biggest fuck-up of his life, he needed to feel important.

This isn’t the first time he’ll say this and it surely won’t be the last: thank Christ for Grandma.

“You want me to take over?...”

“Yep, it’s about time Tracy Industries received a new pair of eyes. The Board certainly thinks so.”

“But… they’d rather have a crazy, PTSD-infected veteran over you?”

A rough pinch to his ear, “Hey now, don’t call yourself that,” the gentle motherly tone was back as soon as it left, “Besides, that crazy might exactly be what they want. Half of their argument is that I “don’t take enough risks.” They’re getting tired of listening to an old fart like me.”

A moment of contemplation, followed by the cheeky raise of an eyebrow, “So you’re saying you want me to take so many risks they have no choice but to take you back?”

A bark of laughter, “Damn straight.”

He learned the ropes faster than normal (healthy, is probably the correct term), and he immediately won the hearts of both young and old in the company. Instead of flying planes every few months, he worked on business reports and vetoed new ideas every couple of weeks. It felt satisfying for the most part, and his family was just happy he was still alive to enjoy it.

However, there was a slight roadblock on his way to becoming a somewhat stable person.

He became prone to violent blackouts. It had to have started when he blacked out and saved himself from those two weeks of hell, which made the most sense. Something was always destroyed when he came back to life. John was the best at calming him down due to his own experience with panic attacks, however, John couldn’t always be there, and the next rotation for NASA was coming swiftly. Scott swore up and down he would be fine, he could figure something out. John went back into space with an eyebrow permanently raised.

It was just him and Virgil home (Grandma had taken Alan and Kayo to watch Gordon swim) when he, unfortunately, proved John right. Scott wasn’t sure what triggered it, but he vividly remembered coming back in Virgil’s extremely tight hold. The first thing Scott thought to say was damn, beanstalk, when did you get so strong? but then he laid his eyes upon the forming bruise on his younger bro’s face and hasn’t recovered since.

Virgil swore he never held it against Scott. Scott definitely thought he should have.

That night brought sudden clarity to Scott that he was doing this horribly wrong. He was a ticking time bomb, and it wouldn’t be long before something was damaged in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Scott needed an anchor. Something to ground him before he took it too far. John wasn’t going to be earthside forever, Grandma was busy with Kayo, Alan was just a kid, and Gordon was living the dream. None of them were viable.

Then, as he was thinking, he was suddenly aware of how calming Virgil’s arms were around him, how they were preventing the growing panic attack in his chest from getting even bigger.

It was easy.

For once in Scott’s life, his eyes were big and young as he asked Virgil, “Help me, please.”

After a few brief seconds, Virgil gulped, “Okay.”

From then on, Virgil was Stone Number One. Scott’s admiration for Virgil outweighed the guilt of putting the black-haired man in that position in the first place. Virgil was glad to follow his older brother’s leadership, but just as qualified to bring him the hell back when he went too far. From getting too sacrificial to preventing a good punching-out some of the idiots they dealt with, Virgil made sure Scott knocked that shit off.

Time went on, Scott was a top-notch CEO at Tracy Industries, John was having one hell of a time up in space, Virgil was graduated and had so many life opportunities to pick from, Alan was thriving at being a (mostly) stable kid, Kayo was 100% acclimated to the family, and Gordon--

Scott found himself gripping the wooden desk very abruptly. He was shocked he didn’t snap a chunk off in the process. Why was he thinking about this right after a giant business conference? Who knows at this point. If this giant origin story seemed jagged and jumpy, maybe even somewhat vague, good, that’s how it fucking felt.

Back to said story.

Scott always thought he and Gordon would have the least amount in common.

They do, but out of all the things they could have picked to be similar, why did it have to be the PTSD caused by military-related jobs? Scott was 24 when he got his, Gordon was just under 20. It may have been a few years since their respective accidents, but they’re never going to go another day without it feeling like it was just yesterday.

At this point, Gordon was up and walking again, mainly thanks to John and Alan while Virgil and Scott helped in their own ways. Grandma’s cooking was what probably motivated him the most though, ha, the need to get away from it… Scott smiled. Grandma was always a constant. Honestly, if it weren’t for her, the family might have fallen apart. Literally.

What has he been saying throughout this whole shindig? Thank Christ for Grandma.

One day out of the blue, Grandma reserved the entire family (yes, even Kayo and Alan) private plane tickets so they could spend some time on the mainland for a few days. Honestly, even if the island wasn’t getting major renovations, you hooligans need to get out more. Have some fun. Try not to kill anything, especially each other, she all told them while creepily grinning. John and Virgil smacked Gordon more than once on the plane for insisting that she finally snapped, dudes, she’s gonna kill us.

Most of the time during their little vacation, Scott heavily focused on his breathing. He was pretty sure he knew what she was doing. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but the same went for his excitement.

Dad showed him these plans the day after his 18th birthday. You’re a man now, Scotty, I need your help making this big boy decision with me.

As soon as they reset foot down on the island, Scott took a deep breath and felt relaxed at the salty taste in the air. It was weird, nothing on the outside was changed, and yet… it still felt different.

“Guys!” Virgil yelled out, “Stop playing in the water! We just got back, aren’t you two tired?!”

Blinking back to reality, Scott looked over to see his two youngest brothers doing exactly what Virgil was yelling at them for. Poor Johnny was a little damp too, which is what probably caused Virgil to shout at them in the first place. The blondes didn’t care. They continued to prance around in the shallow waves with their pants legs rolled up, acting as if they didn’t hear anything outside of their laughter. Gordon shoved his hands down into the liquid and threw some directly at Alan, nailing him right in the face.

Scott exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine them doing this 8 years ago.

Regardless, the artist was right, and they couldn’t waste too much time. Kayo was swift in grabbing both gentlemen by the ears and dragging them onto dry land. They all painstakingly trekked their way up to the-- what would you call Tracy Island? Mansion? Over-blown cabin? Well, whatever it was, Scott would always be willing to call it home.

Stepping inside, each brother took in the view, which was underwhelmingly not that much different, except for one tiny thing. John suddenly noticed a figure already standing in the living room and blinked, “No way… it’s--”

Gordon jumped in, both with his body and his words, “Brains?! Dude, how’s it hanging?!”

The scientist in question jumped at the voices before clearing his throat and readjusting his glasses, “O-Oh, hello again, T-Tracys. It’s good to see you all once more.”

Virgil slung an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the blatant squawk, “Man, how long has it been?! What made you finally decide to crawl out of your hole?”

Snickers came from all corners of the house. Brains stood up straighter, “W-Well, I was contacted b-by Mrs. Tracy over here with an offer I c-couldn’t turn down.”

Eyebrows tilted in all shapes and sizes. Someone cleared their throat. Everyone turned to look at Grandma once again, “I think if you all follow me, you’ll swiftly understand what I’m talking about.”

I already do, Scott thought matter-of-factly. John seemed to be understanding it now, Virgil was on the cusp of remembering what his father was hinting at for him, and Gordon was just as lost as Alan. It made sense, Jeff talked to all of them about it, but the oldest had seniority. The two youngest not remembering just by words was expected, especially since that was going to be rectified very quickly.

The hangar under the island was beautiful. Point blank. It smelt of iron and steel and grease and engine and that was the first time since Scott had been in the Air Force that he didn’t gag or flinch at the thought of flying something again. Scott had seen the plans his father drew. He assumed Jeff finished building it, but he never got to physically see it since…

In some ways, he was glad he didn’t. Now he got to experience it with (most of) his family, and that made it ten times better.

After letting them absorb the scenery, Grandma slowly turned around to look at them all, “You remember that dream your father had?”

The four oldest blinked, Kayo simply raised her eyebrows, meanwhile, Alan, being the teenager he was, didn’t read the emotion in the room, “Oh, yeah! Aunt Casey always talked about how he was going to “change the world” and stuff. What did he call it again?”

Scott felt way more confident than he had in a while, “International Rescue.”

Grandma nodded, gleeful at the happy look on her oldest and youngest grandsons’ faces, “Well, I’ve been thinking about some things. I know we don’t exactly worry about money, but after everything your father put into these girls… I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

The Tracy family jumped at that. John’s mouth was wide open in shock, yes, shock, “That station is still up there?”

Grandma sighed, “You mean ‘Five? Not for long. Not if we don’t send someone up there within the next few days.”

John blushed at the grin Grandma gave him. Clearing his throat, his big brain came to a startling conclusion, “Wait… you brought Alan along?”

The other big brothers in the room jumped at that. Kayo was the only one with enough balls to say the truth out loud, “Mrs. Tracy, I mean no offense, but he’s--”

“Just a kid?” Grandma smirked, “A kid that’s topped the VR charts for Intergalactic Fury for weeks straight while simultaneously getting nothing but A’s in his classes?”

Scott nodded slowly in comprehension. He remembered Alan talking about that game for a while. It was some kind of online racing simulator of sorts. Scott caught the prettiest string of words from Alan when going to bed one night. Nearly made him shit his pants. He made the kid promise to keep it PG-13 if he wanted to keep playing.

Still, the elders in the family slowly turned to look at the freckled boy with both shock and pride. Alan blinked with wide-eyed innocence, “But my English class is only at a B--”

“Shh, kiddo, I’m making a point,” Grandma rolled her eyes. The other brothers snickered. Yep, still Alan. Grandma sighed, “Now before you point out that video games are different, I know, but the difference between them and this is that video games don’t have some of the most talented older brothers in the world to guide him.”

Said older brothers jumped at the idea. Before any objection could be made, Grandma continued, “Besides, the GDF seemed to be okay with it. The Colonel was willing to oversee some of his training too.”

John flinched at that, “But IR is supposed to be independent!”

Grandma slightly frowned. She didn’t exactly like it either, “It still is, but in the world of business, compromises have to be made.”

Virgil huffed and crossed his arms, “Well, that’s… rough. Here I thought only Scott would have to deal with the bullshit of business.”

Grandma chuckled at the somewhat un-Virgil-like behavior, “It really is, Virgil. But about that Scott part,” she slowly turned to look at him and him only, “I hate to give you more work to do, but if you want to work within their restrictions?”

Suddenly every pair of eyes in the room was on the head of the family. Gulping, Scott looked down at his feet to think. It was a tense few moments, nobody sure what he was going to decide, least of all him, before the brunette cleared his throat and brought his face back up with a grin.

“Well then,” Scott turned to look at the bright tip of ‘One, chest fluttering with a feeling that became unfamiliar to him over the past few years, “I guess now it’s time to state the obvious.”

From then on, every time he loaded into that cockpit of his girl, he felt lighter than air.

“Thunderbirds are GO!”

Everything was okay again.

Mostly.

Orphan.

Scott took another sip of his whiskey and refocused on his reports.

---

Scott was in some kind of dissociative state the whole way home.

Alan doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid, barely an adult, and he’s going to go through utter hell because you screwed up. You were 24, Gordon was just under 20, Alan was barely 18. Alan’s going to get fucked up like you and it’s all your fault.

His movements were robotic and rigid. Anyone with a working eye could tell he was deep in shock and running on autopilot. Mostly Jeff. Especially Jeff. The rest of the brothers all noticed too, but they were also running on their own empty fuel tanks, so the only thing they could do was guilty send their older brother the occasional glance of pity and concern.

Jeff was going to need to talk to them about that. Somehow. Maybe he shouldn’t be the one to point it out since he feels just as bad. His sons were too much like him, sometimes, and that made his guilt burn all the same. He should’ve been there to warn his sons about the dangers of unnecessary guilt. Having that kind of guilt was a parent’s job, dammit, and maybe grandparents only occasionally.

But then he remembered where he’s been for the past 8 years and… who really was Alan’s parents anymore? His gut was screaming it sure as hell isn’t you, but he knew his sons would want him to step back into the role as soon as he was physically fit to do so, not just for Alan, but for themselves as well. They would deny it, but they probably just wanted to be kids again too, even if it was only brief, fleeting moments.

Who was to tell the protective, fatherly side of Jeff no to that? No better time to fix things like the present after all.

He saw Scott go up the stairs when they first stepped into the living room, so that’s where Jeff was going to go too. Footsteps light, Jeff retraced his eldest’s pathway to his bedroom. Only, he stopped before said bedroom. Unfavorable noises were coming from the closed bathroom door, and Jeff could only swallow whatever emotion it made him feel. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the (unlocked) door to the bathroom and laid his eyes upon the incriminating scene.

Jeff was met with the sight of Scott retching his entire stomach into the toilet, hands aggressively grabbing his sticky, hair-gelled hair and trying to make himself bald from the strain.

Jeff’s reaction was always based on autopilot, and it will never stop being so.

Ignoring his protesting body, Jeff kneeled and placed a hand on his son’s back, only to abruptly pull back like he touched a hot stove when Scott only got more hysterical at the contact. The brunette clenched his eyes shut even more (and they were already shut as much as possible) while his head became a special kind of crease. Like he was in pain, “God, I wanna go home. Why won’t they listen I swear I’m telling the truth! Please, I just want Dad--”

Jeff was frozen on the spot, heart stopping in the process. His brain shut down while he watched his son continue to mindlessly ramble and panic. His freaked-out mind barely registered footsteps from behind in the hallway, followed by a voice going what’s going-- holy--

Something thundered past him. Blinking once, Jeff guiltily watched as Virgil kneeled behind the eldest and wrapped his arms around the thin man’s shoulders while taking Scott’s hands in his in a protective blanket, “Scott! Jesus-- we’re at home, you’re safe and it’s June 14th, 2--”

Scott only struggled more, panicking at the fact he could no longer yank his hair out. Dammit, it was the only way he could feel in control, don’t take that away too! “No! I swear I’ve said everything! Please--”

Virgil immediately knew that this was one of those attacks that Scott wasn’t coming back down from with pure human intervention. Add-on the sight of his father’s big eyes signifying the man was at a loss at what to do, Virgil had no choice. He snapped loudly, remembering the comms were still on and only feeling slightly bad at the way Scott flinched in his arms, “Shit-- John! It’s Scott! Get the stuff! We’re in the upstairs bathroom!”

Muffled footsteps through a few walls in the house could be heard. Jeff’s mind was only starting to catch up when the brother Virgil called for came rushing into the bathroom (Jeff never remembered it being big enough to hold four of them) and ignoring Jeff (practically shoving him out of the way too, man, this was bad) on his way to the main problem at hand. Landing on his knees in a way that made Jeff wince, John gently grabbed one of Scott’s arms from Virgil’s hold and subsequently pulled a needle from nowhere and injected something into Scott.

The response was instantaneous.

Scott’s breathing, while still labored, got slower. He stopped struggling as well, and the way he sagged reminded Jeff of ice melting into a puddle. The two other brothers’ shoulders also sagged, relieved at the crisis averted. John stood up, knees cracking as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, he froze at the sight of something in the doorway, “G-Gordon…”

Virgil snapped his head up from where he was looking at Scott. Jeff did something similar. Yup, in the doorway was the strawberry blonde, eyes wide, making him younger by about 10 years. The ex-Olympian in question inhaled, closed his eyes, and soon speed-walked his way out of the entrance to the bathroom. Dammit, neither Gordon or Alan have seen something like that and it probably spooked him more than anything. He’d understand with his own PTSD-related issues, but still, seeing the “never weak” big brother freak out in such a scary way...

John combed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. As he started walking out of the room, he whispered to himself, probably hoping no one heard him, “Dammit, this is all so fucked…”

Unfortunately, Jeff did hear, and the dirty language made the father flinch. John was always the best about making sure Grandma didn’t wash his mouth out with soap, and the fact that he so willingly didn’t care meant that everyone was at the end of their rope. Still reeling at the sight, Jeff couldn’t react to the gentle arms that picked him up off the floor and slowly led him out of the suddenly stuffy room.

With the click of the door shutting, Jeff realized what Virgil did, “W-Wait, Scott--”

“Will be okay for a few seconds,” Virgil finished for his dad, “I know it’s nearly been a decade, but the one part of you I definitely know hasn’t changed is the need to comfort us, just like we hoped.” The small grin that fell over the middle child’s face put Jeff a little bit at ease, but Virgil wasn’t completely done, “So, I’m going to let you take care of this, but I just want to make sure you’ll handle it with grace. Take this slowly, okay? Scott might be doped up, but he’s still… volatile, in a sense.”

Jeff cleared his throat, suddenly choking on the unneeded tension, “Okay, Virgil, I promise, just… what happened? That was… bad, and really bad at that too. I know Scott would never let something that severe willingly come out in front of his family.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not ready for this conversation, “Listen, Dad,” he inhaled sharply, cutting himself off before sighing in a way that said fuck it, might as well get this over with, “As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living. We all have lives and stories now, and this is Scott’s story to tell.”

Jeff was getting misty-eyed again. Back when he was just a kid, Virgil couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, mainly in part due to his insomnia-related issues (Jeff has to wonder if he still has them, more problems for the future) and general lack of filter because of sleep-deprivation. Now Jeff knew there was a starch difference between a kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and a man who genuinely knew how to respect another man’s privacy, but…

It just hammers home how much he’s missed with his boys. Gulping, Jeff made a mental note to talk with his mom about certain things he’s missed. She’ll know a lot more than he would, “Okay, Virge. Thank you, for stepping up there.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed at Jeff’s words, as well as his father’s hand patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Dad. Just… go easy on him. I know it’s a little late for this but none of us ever properly talked about things. It was very unhealthy, deep down we all knew that, but…”

“You just couldn’t get the proper emotions out?” Jeff finished for his son. At Virgil’s soft nod, Jeff exhaled, “I’m not going to say that it was a smart decision, but we’re all here now. We can move forward with this.” Jeff squeezed where his hand laid.

Virgil blinked before curtly going, “Yeah. Goodnight, Dad. Take care of Scott.”

Virgil stepped around his father and walked to where his bedroom most definitely was not, but Jeff could deal with that in a little bit. He had another son who he was pretty sure just had a violent PTSD attack of some kind, plus, Virgil seemed to sour at something Jeff said. The ex-astronaut wasn’t sure what it was, so he didn’t chase after him out of worry that--

Wait.

We’re all here now.

Dammit, Jeff. Out of all the sentences you could’ve picked...

Alrighty, just add that to the ever-growing pile of things that need to be talked about later. No biggie. Jeff found himself sighing and rubbing the back of his neck much like Virgil did a few minutes ago. Turning around, he was met with the bathroom door once more. Shaking his head, Jeff slowly crept into the room and saw that not much was different, especially with Scott.

His heart softly cracked, but, again, he can deal with it later.

Sitting down on the ground and grimacing at the way his body ached (was gravity always this rough?), Jeff leaned against the floor cabinets about 2-3 feet away from Scott, who made himself into a nice comfortable ball in the corner next to the toilet, his palm smushed against his forehead. Jeff waited a few seconds. Then minutes. Then he realized he would have to be the one to initiate the conversation. He probably should’ve realized that right when he came back in. He opened his mouth, but his wasn’t the one that words came out of.

“It was… Zambia.”

Jeff’s heart stopped and his mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t stop the way his eyes clearly showed his panic, but hopefully, he guiltily thought, Scott was a little too doped up to not realize it, “Scotty, what do you mean?”

Scott shrugged in a way that spoke he thought what he was admitting wasn’t a big deal. Yep, clearly not with it, “Mission went bad… caught for a couple of weeks.”

Jeff was hoping his first fuck back on Earth, spoken to himself like right now or otherwise, would have been a comedic thing, but the way nausea rose in his throat said this was anything but funny.

Scott wanted to be in the Air Force. Badly. Who was a father to deny his son’s want to be part of such a noble cause? He gave him tips, took him to meet friends in high places, sometimes even sparred with him when he turned 18, but then Jeff was suddenly thousands of miles away with no hope of ever having the chance of sparring with his eldest again. Despite it, Jeff hoped Scott went on to become the best pilot the world has ever seen.

Part of this looks like he did, but at what cost?

As much as it felt like it did, the world didn’t stop spinning because you… well, we had lives we somehow wanted to continue living.

Aw hell, “Jesus, Scott…” Jeff couldn’t tell if it was the brashness or the lack of a nickname that made Scott flinch and he hated it. He immediately softened his tone and brought his 27-year-old child into his arms, “Shh, shh, we’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

Like father like son, old habits die hard, and as easy as it was to still be able to comfort his children, Scott seemed to just as easily take it as he used to 8 years ago, “Alan doesn’t deserve this kind of hell, God, he’s barely not a kid anymore! Why--”

Jeff tightened his hold to keep his son in reality, and because he didn’t like the tone behind those words, “Hey, you didn’t either--”

Scott somehow managed to fling himself out of the hug, focus incredibly on point for someone who was doped up to his eyelids five seconds ago, “But I fucked up! I made the wrong call and then suddenly Arnold was dead and he had a wife and kids-- shit, what the hell did I do?”

Okay.

First of all: way to put him back in that headspace when that’s the exact opposite you were going for, Jeff, father of the year. Second: dammit. Just… dammit. This was a big fat hand grenade in a giant handbasket that they didn’t have time to gently get out while simultaneously not yanking the pin clean off with the grace of a drunk elephant. Jeff was no stranger to Survivor’s Guilt, but there was a whole untapped pile of metaphorical C4 within his son’s head that was ready for someone to push the goddamn button.

He wanted it to be him, desperately, because it sounded like he already failed his family enough, it was all he could do at this point, but he absolutely hated that he couldn’t do it right now. This was going to take a lot of time, which they didn’t have, plus, Jeff thought he had a pretty good understanding of this new Scott and the rest of his kids. Jeff was aware that if he didn’t help his sons find their baby as fast as possible over everything else it’ll lead to a fate nobody wanted.

A shaky sigh, “Okay, Scotty, let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk strategy in the morning.”

Scott simply nodded as his father flung Scott’s arm around his broader shoulders and picked him up. Slowly and painfully but surely, father and son meandered their way to Scott’s room. With a thump a little harder than Jeff wanted, Scott flopped down on top of his sheets and immediately started snoring. Despite everything that just happened, the father couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Well, there was another thing Jeff gracefully passed onto his son.

Jeff only took Scott’s shoes off. He would’ve loved to pull the sheets up around him too, but the father didn’t want to take any chances at waking him up. Slowly tip-toeing out of the room, Jeff gave one last glance back at his son before finally letting him be and gently shutting the door. He had three other sons he needed to console, but his tired joints told him to selfishly take a moment for himself for right now unless he wanted to collapse and give his family more to deal with.

Jeff eventually made his way to his room-- which was sadly unkempt, he noticed-- and sat down on the edge of his unfamiliar bed to think.

He’ll figure something out. If he had to crawl through images of his son being brutally and bloodily tortured then by God he would with the fury of a thousand suns.

He was back and he wasn’t going to throw away any second or even third chance he was given.

---

“I got him.”

Virgil turned his comms back on, and with it, Scott’s heart restarted for the first time in a few weeks. Taking a moment for a breather, Scott leaned against the wall while practically wheezing. They have him back, holy shit, they have him back. Scott vaguely heard Gordon cry in pure relief and joy. He saw John’s side of the comms flutter for a bit before a bright flash happened. Blinking away the white spots, Scott looked at his wrist to see a fully detailed map of the compound.

Gordon spoke what they were all thinking, “Woohoo! First Allie comes back, then Johnny-boy gets us a free ticket out of here! We’re winning this race, baby!”

A very loud moment of silence. John cleared his throat, “Actually, I was going to say glad to see you in one piece, you little shit,” a playful gasp came from Virgil’s side. It was too high pitched to be from the pianist’s mouth. Scott chuckled, but the paranoid part of his brain said John wasn’t done. His brain was right, ‘“But guys… that wasn’t me. Or EOS. We still haven’t found a way to get past the metal they made these walls out of.”

That silence was even more deafening than the last, and before Virgil could utter out his typical what the fuck, a small logo appeared at the corner of their new map. One that was all too familiar. The Chaos Crew wasn’t the only one who could brand their awful deeds.

Son of a bitch.

Virgil’s order over the radio was meant for Alan, but Scott couldn’t help but listen to it too.

“Shit, Alan, you need to run.”

Making quick work of the compound once more, Scott, while booking it even quicker than last time, opened a private line between him and Gordon, “Hey, how would you feel if I said go help Virgil while I cover Alan?”

The first response was stuttering, which Scott expected, but then it was followed up by something completely out of left field for Gordon, “... Okay, just as long as you promise to bring Alan back in one piece.”

Part of Scott wanted to console Gordon, another was questioning why Gordon was so quick to give up, another wanted to say of course, I will, idiot, but the first part that made itself verbal was easy, “You know I will, buddy.”

Scott could physically picture Gordon’s tiny, little, somber nod clear as day, “Sounds good, captain. See you on the other side.”

With a click, Scott was back on the group comm. Suddenly remembering what exactly his job was, he pulled out the map so graciously given to them by The Hood. Looking at all the dots, one was heading towards a prone one (oh if that asshole did anything to Virgil…) while another one was heading right for Scott himself. Actually, in just a few seconds, right as Scott rounded the corner he would--

“Woah, look out there, Tigger!”

Yes, you heard that correctly: not tiger, Tigger. Tigger hadn’t been used since Alan was itty bitty. It always seemed like the kid had endless energy with the way he wouldn’t stop bounding off the walls and furniture. Even as a baby, Lucy had to sit with him for a few hours while he slept in his crib to make sure he would stay there. In fact, their mother gave Alan that nickname herself. She was quite the Winnie the Pooh fan, and the rest of the family figured it would be one of the ways they could keep her legacy alive for the tiny potato.

Wrapping his arms around said flailing potato, albeit much bigger than a baby, Scott thought he would collapse then and there. Alan was here, in his arms, and yeah, the sight of his dirty and somewhat ripped up IR uniform made him mad, but Scott, for once in his life, decided to focus on the here-and-now, aka his precious, alive little brother, who finally stopped struggling at the realization that hey, the person holding you is a good guy, time to turn off fight mode.

Smushing their foreheads together as much as possible, Scott desperately fought to keep the waterworks back, a smile from ear to ear hopefully taking whatever energy his tear ducts had, “You are getting such an ass beating when we get home, little bro.”

Alan jumped back with a look of What the hell?! What did I do now?!

Scott simply rolled his eyes, “Really? “Not important”? You graduated high school, tiny dude! That’s huge! You remember Gordon’s party, right?”

Alan’s mouth gaped before he closed it with slightly puffy cheeks. Those same cheeks tinged with a small blush. Alan wasn’t exactly expecting to be smothered so soon (well, he did cry his eyes out on Virgil’s shoulder, but that was different!). Shaking it off, Alan moved his hands rhythmically and rapidly, To be fair, we weren’t sure he was going to get one for a while.

Scott faltered a little bit at the ASL. Darn, he should’ve seen Alan’s lack of talking from a mile away. Scott carefully hid his disappointment from Alan. Lord knew what the kid would take it as, “Yeah, that’s what he got for barely making it. Imagine what you’re going to get!”

Scott assumed his semi-fake charm worked, as Alan seemed to play along without any kind of suspicion, Oh yeah. Fair enough.

This kid, man.

Then, slow clapping came from a dark corner, making Scott’s heart leap out of his throat as well as push Alan behind himself. Glaring as much as he could towards the invisible evil-doer, Scott didn’t have to think twice, “Alan, take my map and find Virgil and Gordon.”

The youngest looked like he was going to object.

“Go.”

He no longer did. Good.

Listening to the field commander’s orders, Scott felt his wristband slip off his wrist and a warm body leave his vicinity. An inhale. Also good. An exhale, followed by an even darker glare, “What more do you want?”

Short and straight-to-the-point and angry, two things Scott typically wasn’t. Regardless, like a cold gust of wind, footsteps started approaching him from the shadow. Once Scott saw the outline of a body, he tensed even more. Virgil would snap at him for clenching his jaw so much.

A dark chuckle reminded him of what was important. The voice that spoke reminded him of something completely different, “Now then, brother, let’s not be rude to each other!”

Scott’s pupils shrunk at the familiar sight of Gordon stepping towards him. Except it wasn’t Gordon, because Scott knew that Gordon knew better. He also knew Gordon didn’t cheekily smile like that, even after a prank, nor did he walk that straight. He always had a funny walk after WASP, and Gordon wore that fact like a badge of honor.

Oh no, Scott definitely knew who this was, “What the hell are you playing at?”

Fake-Gordon rolled his eyes, like it wasn’t obvious, “I mean if we want to go that route, why did kid insist you being in the military was the coolest thing he’d ever heard you do? Maybe I wouldn’t have been pressured into joining a branch myself in the end.”

Scott’s nostrils flared, and by God, his pupils might have actually slitted like a snake’s, or possibly even a dragon’s, “Excuse me?”

Scott blinked, and suddenly he was met by not-Virgil, “Plus, why was our conclusion after hearing a three-year-old wanting to see snow to go to a ski resort? It had to have been those big, selfish, beady eyes, right?”

“C’mon, Scotty, we gotta give you some kind of calming exercise. There’s going to come a time when neither me or John are going to be there.”

“Hmm… does yoga work?”

A snort, “Well, that’s not too bad of an idea. Maybe the person pissing you off will stop whatever they’re doing at the sight of you spontaneously doing downward dog.”

Laughter, an unfamiliar action, “Yeah, okay, but for real, those breathing exercises I’ve seen you do look okay. Let’s start there.”

Scott was not a liar by heart. He had to admit that those exercises were doing jack shit right about now.

Another blink, another brother. Familiar ginger hair was all Scott could see, “To continue that previous point, why did Dad start International Rescue again? And what led to his demise?”

“Sounds like a piece of work. Why do you keep dealing with these people again?”

“Someone has to pay the bills, Johnny. Grandma’s too focused on making the perfect poison for us.”

A roll of eyes, “Right, because the billions we have saved wouldn’t be enough to last a couple of families a few lifetimes. Glad to see your calming exercises are working at least. How’s that going for you, by the way?”

A pause. A flicker of vision around the room. Someone cleared their throat, probably himself, “It’s probably not as bad as whatever space is throwing at you. You handling it okay up there?”

Another pause, followed by a sigh, “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Scott wanted to deflect the truth so badly right now more than anything else. Telling him he couldn’t pilot ‘One anymore would be a much more enticing option than what he was hearing.

Suddenly, Scott was looking in a mirror, “Besides, I know more than anybody that he wasn’t wanted. A mistake. I thought we Tracys hated being imperfect?”

The Hood must have known their backstories from internet articles, and being the mastermind he was, it probably took him all of three seconds to see Alan had some hidden self-worth issues. By playing the biggest Guess Who? game of all time, The Hood was most likely able to figure out some less-than-positive ideals Alan thought about himself throughout his childhood and danced circles around his already weakened mind to string together some spineless blame to put on the kid by sheer evilness alone.

Knowing his kid brother, it worked.

Scott wasn’t thinking straight-- maybe even at all when the first punch was thrown.

Just like that, Scott blacked out and was running on terminator mode. John would be disappointed. Virgil would be horrified. Gordon might find it funny. Alan wasn’t here, and thank God for that. Scott wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. All his mind was telling him was make lots of pain hard and fast. His brain also blocked out any hit The Hood was giving him in return. Pain flared for a few seconds, then it was swept away in the puddle of rage his mind was currently being consumed in.

Soon, his out-of-it mind found its target and gripped his-- The Hood’s arm, no disguise would make him have an identity crisis, thank you very much-- nice and rough.

Scott heard the familiar snap of cartilage and felt only partially bad. If he was thinking more clearly, he would be disgusted with himself. Yes, even The Hood didn’t deserve this level of Scott’s fury. Oh, he definitely deserved to be hit by a truck, but not by Scott. It was mostly due to Scott’s sanity. If he could be this graphic and violent at all, even to the worse possible criminals, that meant he could be that way during other moments, and that was not a territory he wanted to cross into.

Welp, he was here now, and he’ll hate to admit it in the future, but the only thing that brought him out of it was a tiny gasp from a few feet away. Snapping his head up, Scott’s eyes landed squarely on a smaller-than-normal Alan, who was currently clutching his arm to his chest in an emotion Scott didn’t want to figure out at the moment. So much for going and finding Virgil and Gordon.

“Allie, help…” fake him grunted out, only making real Scott growl and tighten his hold (and probably making his case worse). Looking up from the person in his arms, Scott felt his heart split in two at the sight. There was fear and uncertainty in Alan’s blue eyes and boy did it hurt. Scott couldn’t tell if it was because even seeing a potentially-fake Scott being beaten up was bad or if it was because he’d never seen big brother be this brutal, even towards their enemies. Whatever the reason, it involved Scott being the main root of the problem.

Wait, that was The Hood’s plan. Shit… make Scott act past the point of no return in a way that was unfamiliar to Alan so the kid couldn’t be fully sure who was who, and Scott fell right into his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

Fuck.

Bloody well done, Scott, you absolute moron.

Scott faltered a little bit, “A-Alan, I--”

That falter was enough for The Hood to break an arm out of his grip and elbow him in the face. In the brief second of freedom he had, he tried dashing towards Alan, but Scott was too quick for everyone’s good and soon had the imposter back in his arms, both of them struggling in a way that made them look like they were tied into the weirdest knot in existence.

Then, an earthquake struck.

No, literally.

A big shake of the abandoned compound threw the look-a-likes about and subsequently off the platform they were on. The place was old; it didn’t take a lot of weight for that guard rail they made their way over towards while fighting to snap right off. With a yelp, the two of them gripped the edge as much as they could and held on. Crap, I know we talked with Fuse about potentially setting some stuff off, but--

Blinking, Scott saw a familiar mop of blonde hair come into view. Alan was rather panicked, clearly not sure which Scott was the real Scott. Not only that, he had little time to decide which one to save. Goodie, another reason to despise The Hood: not only has he put Alan through weeks of torment, now he’s forcing the kid to decide to either save his oldest brother and biggest hero or his personal torturer.

And Alan won’t know until he picks.

Holy hell, this was getting worse by the second. Hopefully, big brother charm can work its magic and get them the hell out of there.

“Alan, quickly, over here!”

“I can’t hold on for much longer, Alan, hurry!”

The two Scotts glared at one another in the exact same way, not making Alan’s job much easier. Another shake, another slip down the metal cliff, more screams, and Alan looked ready to tear his hair out. Scott watched as the kid looked around rapidly, probably praying for a miracle in the process. Suddenly, the kid jumped when he must have spotted something important. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone and out of their range of visions to retrieve it.

Whatever the hell he noticed better be important, because if just ended up wasting precious time then--

Another shake, probably the last one. Still, it was enough.

Both their grips gave away at the same time, screams identical (God, did he always sound that wimpy?) as they plummeted to their demises. Scott was briefly able to look up to see his brother pop his head over the cliff like a chipmunk again and grab the (albeit broken) arm of The Hood and save him. Dammit, Scott should have expected that, though, that display of anger was uncharacteristic to Alan. Probably terrified him even more than he already was. Fuck, Scott deser--

Suddenly, a rope wrapped itself around Scott’s left arm and stopped his descent. Hard. Hopefully, it was only torn stuff, they didn’t have time to deal with dislocation--

Wait.

Scott wasn’t dead if he could think about these kinds of things.

Blinking, he looked at his arm to see the familiar rope of his grappling hook around his forearm. Moving his eyesight to look past that, he saw the wide, blue eyes of his baby brother struggling to stay on top. The Hood was using his non-broken side to try and climb his way back up to safety. Huh, that’s weird. When did Alan get ahold of that? Scott must have dropped it during his scuffle with--

That’s when it hit Scott.

Alan saved them both.

And it would be all for jack shit if Scott didn’t get his ass up there to help.

Panicking, Scott gripped the rope and started to ascend. He had two working arms and a smother complex to boot; it wasn’t long before he overtook a struggling Hood, who could only use one arm and a weakened brother (that bastard was so lucky Alan had a literal heart of gold).

Flinging his arms over the edge and pulling himself up-- and shrugging off the extra help Alan offered. Save your strength, baby bro-- Scott was in a much calmer search-and-destroy mode. He yanked his evil look-a-like up, turned him on his stomach, pinned him down, and before he could even watch Alan blink, “Sign something.”

There, now he watched Alan blink.

Scott pulled out one of his best ‘big brother’ smiles ever, “Tell me something in ASL. I don’t think The Hood learned that kind of etiquette.”

The body beneath him growled, making Alan jump and Scott tighten not only his hold but his glare. Further prove big brother’s point, why don’t cha? He lost the angry look immediately to grin at Alan once more, who seemed to be slowly getting the picture. With a gulp, the blonde slowly strung together a sentence that Scott had to laugh at, just a little bit.

Damn, could you teach me to fight like that, Scooter?

Nodding his head, Scott had to concede, “Sure. Consider it a graduation present.”

Alan blinked again, and the immense relief that washed over the boy’s shoulders would be enough to banish nightmares for at least a couple of days. Suddenly, The Hood’s disguise blinked out of existence, making both brothers jump that time. Scott didn’t falter in his grip, however. This man was going down right here and now, Scott thought darkly, staring at the prone body beneath his.

Scott saw Alan continue to sign out of the corner of his eye, You know you look like shit, right?

Scott chuckled. Alan was always able to put a smile on his face no matter the circumstances, “Yeah, well, kindred spirits, little bro.”

Scott was probably as pale as Alan was with such lack of sleep and food. Running on what was essentially a prolonged PTSD attack wasn’t healthy in the slightest, and no doubt whatever kind of bruises and scratches The Hood gave him didn’t help, however, seeing hope fill those deep-blue eyes when Alan learned he was truly being saved drowned everything out, including the way those freckles were getting lost in those eye bags.

Yeah, their entire family probably looked like shit, and the recovery process was going to be even shittier, but they were going to suffer through it together as a family would.

That made it all worth it.

Shuffling himself so one arm was free while the other kept The Hood pinned, Scott held it out towards Alan. The flinch the youngest made tore a hole in Scott’s heart that was only slightly patched when Alan leaned into the warmth and safety of his biggest bro. Long recovery process, remember? Regardless, Alan still took to the hug like a dehydrated zebra did a pond, and that was good enough for Scott.

The Hood groaned underneath them.

Yep, good enough.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #the hood #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #my post #my fic #series: rules of alchemy

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pathos-logical · 5 years

Text

One Picture, a Thousand Words

Roman is a wonder that cannot be put to words, Logan a marvel that ink cannot capture. They try anyway.

Hoo, this sure was a labor of love! Love because I love @bleepblopbloop56 with all my heart and labor because HOLY HECK WAS THIS HARD TO WRITE. But never mind any of that, because HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my friend!!! I absolutely adore you, and I hope your year is as fantastic as you are!!!

Trigger warnings: Food mention; a joking mention of hallucinations. I think that’s it, but please tell me if I need to add something!!

There are a thousand words Logan could use to describe Roman. He would pull a Shakespeare and invent a thousand more if it meant finding a word that could accurately chronicle the tapestry of Roman, all colorful patches and carefully stitched seams. But Logan is no artist, and his words seem an inadequate medium.

Beautiful, he thinks and immediately discards. That is too obvious, the truth of it plain to see. Lovely is- better. More intimate. But too soft, perhaps, for Roman’s flame-edged hair, the bronze of his skin and the steel in his spine.

He has tried countless words, none of them quite right. Larger-than-life. (And no, his charisma and magnetic smile absolutely did not excuse the way he didn’t seem to know how to shut up.) Captivating. (Roman did have a way with words, when he wasn’t being an idiot.) Extraordinary. (He was quite the artist and actor.) Brilliant. (Again, Roman was rather intelligent when it came down to it.) Perfect. (Technically impossible. But.)

All those words he longs to say, not one spoken aloud.

(Or- once. Alone in his room, he had tried the shape of mine on his mouth, thought about how it tasted on his lips and imagined the look in Roman’s eyes if he ever dared to say it in front of him. Once, and never again.)

Oh, he wishes. But Logan has always been better with words on the page than to other people.

Well, he thinks, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands, I suppose that’s what this is for. His eyes rove over the paper, skimming over phrases without really taking them in. If he reads it he’ll try to fix it, and at this point there’s too much of his heart in the words for him to change them.

He looks at the last paragraph. It’s the kind of declaration he sneers at in the romance novels Roman so adores, the kind of thing he would’ve sneered at barely years ago. But Roman always did have a way of making him question things he’d taken for postulates- himself included.

I tried, over the course of this letter, to pin down what exactly about you has drawn me so irrevocably into your orbit and left me floundering in unfamiliar space. However, as the length of this might indicate, I soon discovered that I could not.

You know me. It is very rare that I find myself lost for words. But I find myself unable to find the correct words to describe you, or even the correct words. Not because I have run out of things to say, or even because you have left me speechless, but because I could use a whole dictionary of love letters and fail to find the words that capture the way your eyes shine in the light when you laugh at your own jokes, and all the cliches in the world cannot express how I feel about every mundane, breathtaking thing about you.

But despite all that, I have three words for you, Roman, and I suppose there is no better day to deliver them than today (as of the day you receive this, at least).

I love you.

Roman has a sketchbook no one but him has ever seen.

The drawings are all in pencil, and Roman aches to paint them, to mix his colors until he finds shades that will truly bring them to life. But Logan is a peculiar kind of monochrome, with his navy hair and black polo shirts and countless blue ties, and Roman fears that no amount of paint could do that justice.

It’s undeniable that the warm brown of Logan’s eyes is a color he itches to find in a colored pencil, that the almond of his skin is one he longs to see redden at his touch. But those aren’t the things he really wants to capture when he puts pencil to paper anyway. No, when he draws Logan, his focus is on the subtle gleam that comes to his eyes when he speaks about something he’s passionate about, the curl of his lips when his emotionless facade breaks at some stupid comment Roman made.

Roman wishes he could show Logan the notebook, sometimes, the days when his longing overpowers his surety in the fact that it could never be reciprocated. He imagines coffee-colored eyes looking through the pages with delight, taking in the devotion clear in the meticulous lines. He pictures the hands he’s spent hours perfecting skimming over paper, taking care not to smudge the lead.

(He sees disgust settling in the curve of Logan’s lips and rejection showing in the set of his shoulders, and he pushes away the thought and hides his notebook under his pillow, pretends that he hasn’t memorized the shape of Logan’s smile.)

But he doesn’t think of any of that today. It’s Valentine’s Day, and Roman is dressed for it. He dons his armor that he definitely did not spend a whole two hours deliberating on and sets out the door armed with a kind of desperate false bravado, which is immediately undermined by how he jumps at his roommate Patton’s encouraging “go get ‘im, tiger!” shouted through the walls.

Still scowling at the door behind him, Roman briefly debates how desperate a text will make him sound before deciding, screw it.

Hey, we still on for lunch at Cream of the Cup?

The reply is prompt, as always, and Roman makes a futile attempt at smothering the smile he knows is blossoming across his lips.

>> Of course.

I’ll see you then!

Roman can so do this.

Virgil I can’t do this

>> why not?? youve been planning this for weeks, youll bbe fine

actually, knowing you, orobably months

Jfkdkfkfkfk

it’s

LOGAN

>> im aware, weve only veen best friends for years now

…

if yoy send a long rambling text ahout how wonderful logan is and how you dont deserve hkm im gonna lose it

roman i swear to god

HE’S JUST SO SMART AND AMAZING AND I’M JUST ME I DON’T DESERVE HIM AND WHAT IF I SCREW THINGS UP BETWEEN US FOREVER AND HE HATES ME OR WHAT IF IT’S AWKWARD I’M OKAY WITH JUST BEING FRIENDS REALLY HE PROBABLY DOESN’T EVEN LIKE ME THAT WAY ANYWAY I MEAN WHY WOULD HE

Whoops sorry

>> youre not

I’m not

But

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

>> okay roman, listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once.

first of all, cut it with the self-deprecating crap. one, that’s my thing. and two, I WILL pull a patton and fight you.

stop doubting yourself, it doesn’t suit you

I might not have known you as long as I’ve known logan, but I know

I can see you typing. shut up.

maybe I haven’t known you as long as I’ve known Logan, but I do know you’re a good guy, and you /clearly/ love him

KSKFKFKKFKGD W H A T

>> yes, everyone knows, no, Logan does not, LET ME FINISH

it means a LOT to him that you actually read the articles he sends you about mars rovers at 3 am and that you don’t tell him he’s annoying for infodumping about alpha centauri or whatever star system he’s planning to go to and that you deal with his hypocrisy about sleep schedules and his general inability to do emotions

also, knowing him for years means I know his type, and trust me, you’re it

and even if by some miracle he doesn’t like you back, you guys are too close to ruin your friendship. okay? so however this ends, I promise you’ll still be friends

>> But

ROMAN

listen, you don’t tune him out when he starts babbling, and he does the same for you. he loves listening to your rants about art theory, he goes to every single one of your shows, and he started learning Spanish just to impress you. yes, he’s learned more phrases than just insults, he’s just been hiding it so he can surprise (aka impress) you later

and roman? he really really does value your friendship. you know that we’ve known each other since forever, so you know I mean it when I say that I’ve NEVER seen him get so close to someone this quickly.

and… you’ve been good for him too, okay? he’s not really the type to get lonely, but that’s just because he gets so tied up in his giant brain he forgets there are people in the outside world to talk to. but it really is important to him that you’re always there for him, and… I can tell you right now that he’s told me how much he appreciates you for it

after all that? I’d say he loves you too, dude. go for it.

you can talk now

Holy heck you DO love me

>> eh

Holy HECK

Wait

Did you turn on autocorrect just to yell at me???

>> Only for you, babe.

Please never do that again

yeaj that was oncredibly unconfortable

now GO GET YOUR MAN

Roman, for all his theatrics about love at first sight and true love’s kiss, hadn’t mentioned Valentine’s Day plans once in the weeks leading up to it. Then, exactly one week ago, he’d texted Logan with a simple request to meet up at a nearby cafe. Logan knew him too well to miss the possible connotations of such an invitation. But it was entirely possible that this was merely meant to be an outing between two friends. A platonic outing.

A platonic outing where there was barely room to stand, forget sit. Logan curses under his breath. He’d decided for once to not show up fifteen minutes early, as that would only give him more time to second-guess himself, especially as Roman was notorious for being chronically late. But he had failed to account for the obvious fact that, it being both a Saturday and Valentine’s Day, the usually quiet cafe is filled to the brim with couples ordering the heart-themed specials and kissing and generally clogging the air with sweet words and PDA. And no, Logan is not irrationally annoyed about this, he’s just worried he won’t be able to secure an empty table for him and Roman.

But just as the thought crosses his mind, he catches a familiar head of fiery hair at a table against the wall, bent over his phone and apparently completely absorbed by whatever he was looking at. An incredulous “Roman?” slips from his lips unbidden, because- well, Roman had once nearly been late to the first show he was the lead in. But there he was, reserving a table at exactly 12:30 with a croissant in front of him. Maybe today really was a day for miracles.

He watches with amusement as Roman jumps and looks up at the sound of his name. His face lights up as soon as he registers who it is, and Logan abruptly goes from amused to filled with some kind of fluttery warmth he doesn’t want to quantify.

“Logan!” Roman exclaims, hurriedly tucking his phone away. “Hey! How are you?” His smile beams out like the sun, but it dims upon Logan’s next words.

“Not well, unfortunately,” Logan informs him gravely. “I fear I have been having severe auditory and visual hallucinations. For example, I am currently experiencing one so vivid that I believe I am conversing with a friend in a cafe when I know that there is no chance of him being here yet.” Maybe Logan should feel bad about the way Roman’s expression morphs from worry to alarm to overblown outrage, but the challenging gleam in his eyes arrests him as surely as that of of Roman’s heart-shaped studs, and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

“Hey, I’m not always late!” he protests so loudly several patrons turn to look at him, perhaps expecting a scene.

Logan can’t help the smirk that creeps across his face as he slides into the seat opposite Roman, surreptitiously tucking a navy blue folder besides him. Thank goodness for Roman being typically Roman and reserving a booth that could seat six for a party of two. “Roman. Once Virgil and I deliberately told you to meet up an hour after we were actually supposed to meet so that when you inevitably showed up late, it would only be by five minutes rather than fifty. And the very idea that you could be on time for something went so flagrantly against the laws of the universe that the universe struck back by making your car break down, and you missed the meeting entirely.”

“Is that what happened?” Roman asks, looking so genuinely gobsmacked that Logan can’t help the snicker that escapes him. Roman’s expression flips to one of self-satisfaction, and Logan tries to ignore the little burst of fondness in his chest at the sight. Even if the rest of today goes horribly, at least he can savor this easy banter between them.

And banter they do, debating over whether Logan’s physics professor or Roman’s marketing professor is more inept before commiserating over the “perpetual hell week” that is college. They bounce from the disappointing latest installment of one of Roman’s favorite series to a terrible documentary on aliens Logan had found on a “science” channel (“It’s called a having a basic grasp of eighth-grade geometry, Roman- which, unlike this nine-thousand year old civilization, these morons have clearly never achieved!”) to every little thing in between, their food forgotten in front of them.

It’s nothing special, technically- they’ve been friends for years now, and they often have talks about everything and nothing. But today Logan can convince himself that an electric current is charging the air between them, flushing Roman’s cheeks and lighting up his eyes as Logan is drawn in, helpless against his magnetism.

There’s no decisive moment where Logan thinks, this is it. There’s just Roman, his laughter like bells in the breeze, and Logan, gazing at him like he’d put the stars in the sky.

“Roman,” he says. That’s it- Roman.

Roman is still giggling at his rendition of the student who’d spilled their coffee on the drama professor on the first day, but he sobers at whatever look is on Logan’s face. “Hey- you good, Lo?”

The nickname catches at something in Logan’s chest, pulls it open so the next words come just a little harder, just a little easier. “Roman,” he says again, looking down. “I do not wish to… ruin the mood, but I have something to confess.”

(He’s looking down, so he misses the way Roman jumps at the last word.)

But when he meets Roman’s eyes, open and curious, Logan’s confidence abandons him. He exhales slowly in an attempt to regain some of the feeling from before, like the memory of Roman’s voice will fortify his. But all that comes out is: “I wrote- would you-”

Logan’s throat fails him entirely, something a little like dread and a little like hope clogging it up. Without another word, he slides the folder he had kept tucked at his side to Roman. When Roman raises a curious eyebrow, Logan simply smiles- a quick, brittle thing- and motions for him to open it.

Earlier, the noise in the cafe had distracted Logan, had made him frown when it rose over Roman’s voice. But suddenly it all fades into the background, the chatter of voices and clatter of spoons receding in favor of the thwip of the folder opening, the little breath Roman takes when he reads the first two words.

Dimly, Logan thinks he must have used up all his words in the letter. His fingers lay still at his sides, mind is utterly blank as he watches Roman read it. But his heart is pounding loud enough that for an absurd second, he’s sure Roman can hear it in the sudden quiet.

Logan waits for a minute, maybe five. He thinks he’d wait for Roman forever if he asked. But Roman doesn’t make him wait that long, because when he looks up his eyes are wet with tears, and when Logan uselessly opens his mouth- to do what? His voice certainly hasn’t returned- Roman lurches forward, clumsy in a way Logan has never known him, and seals their lips with a kiss.

And when they finally draw apart, Logan thinks he’s regained his words (or maybe just these three), because they force themselves out of his lips like they’ve been waiting to do so since Logan said Roman’s name. And Roman, his face a study in the kind of shock and delight that can only come from a thought-to-be-hopeless dream coming true, returns them.

#logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #my writing #a whole dictionary of love letters

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ladybugsfanfics · 5 years

Text

Worth The Wait | Tom Hiddleston x Indian!reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Indian!reader

Style: One Shot

WC: 2.6k

Warnings: uhh, curse words, i dont thinkt there is anything in this??

Summary: @thelowkeydetective said: “Hey, I wanted to request a soulmate au (with Hiddleston) and take your time, no hurry:if you're on separate time zones, when you sleep, you see the world in the eyes of your soulmate at present and when they look into a reflective surface/mirror the image is blurred. Hope you got which one. I'm sorry for bugging you again but maybe you could make that one shot I requested to be Tom Hiddleston x Indian reader( that way you can get the time difference too and I'm Indian). Thank you😄” - soulmate au post also, to help the story i added another of the aus “Because the universe is sadistic af, it only gave you the first letter of your soulmate’s name.”

A/N: this was so much fun to write and I hope i did good. I havent specified that anything about the reader so you can imagine being anything only you live in Chennai, India (it works so well since Tom’s older sister lives there). Thank you so much for the request and so sorry it took so long ^_^ italics are the dream she has btw

if you want to be added to my taglist, please send an ask ^_^ | requests are open, too.

Drying your hands after washing your face, your thumb swipes over the tattoo on your left wrist. The T stares at you, has your heart fall a little as the rope that holds it in place slowly rips―how much is left of that rope, you’re not sure.

The tattoo appeared when you were 18. All over the world, people wake up to a new tattoo on their 18th birthday, except, most people get the whole name (the first name), and you woke up to only a stupid letter. When you turned twenty, that’s when the probability of finding your soulmate comes. If soulmates are on different time zones, you see their daily life when you sleep.

For most, this never happens and is only something people use to test that they’ve found the right person. Most of your friends have gone on trips just to make sure the person they met is actually the person they’re meant to be with.

You’re not one of the lucky. You’re one of the unlucky who has had dreams of their soulmate’s lives since the day you turned twenty. It has been a quiet ride so far, seeing as it’s impossible for you to find out who he is―the dude travels so much you can’t pinpoint where in the world he is from. A lot of the time, you see manuscripts though, late night readings―Shakespeare seems to be a favorite.

It doesn’t help that your parents want you to get married, have children and have been talking about this forever. Since you were twenty-five (about eight years), they’ve been going on about forgetting your soulmate and finding someone eligible in India, in Chennai. But you can’t find anyone you get along with, and believe it, they’ve tried hard.

The T prompts a deep sigh, knowing if you don’t meet him, you will end up spending the rest of your life alone. Through the years you’ve seen him, you’ve noticed things, picked up on habits he has. Also, from time to time, when you believe he dreams, you’ve left notes, tried to speak with him.

And he replied.

Steadily, you’ve been having a conversation. You still don’t know his name, or where he is from, because you’re afraid to ask certain questions. The first question was a boring yet sweet, how are you? To which he replied, fine, and you?

It became more prying after a while, but it’s only been going on for a year and it isn’t always easy knowing if he’s gotten your messages or not. Though he seems to have figured out when his will reach you.

With a harsh scrub at the T, which does nothing but redden your skin, you let go of the hand towel. One final look in the mirror. Tired eyes look back at you. You sigh once more and get out of the bathroom. In your bedroom, you get into bed and pull the blanket completely over your head, hoping slumber takes you easily and that maybe, just maybe, you get a new message.

People are everywhere, filing to and fro in every direction. They lug suitcases after them. Children screams at their parents. The woman who accepts the passport smiles warmly, raven-black hair tied into a ponytail that waves as she moves her head. She hands the passport back, with a tucked in boarding pass and reaches to tie a piece of paper around the handle of the suitcase. Her mouth moves, showing of a set of white teeth.

Moving, the gaze lands on the boarding pass. It covers the passport, hiding away any information on it. But the pass says it all. From Heathrow to Chennai International Airport. The passport closes shut and is filed into a pocket as the moving stops.

The security check is lined with people. The long line goes easily forward, stopping only a few minutes every now and then. Long, slender fingers grabs a gray box and pulls out some belongings. A belt, phone and keys land in one corner. So does a wristwatch. A black backpack gets its own box. The line through isn’t long. Green tells to go through. The security people smile and nod, and gestures to keep going.

Big hands grab the backpack and puts away the other belongings. People everywhere, walking past in a slow tempo. The big screen that tells the gates shows the gate for the flight to Chennai. Increased tempo.

By the gate, there are few free seats. There is one by the corner. From the backpack, slender fingers drag out a book and a notebook. A pen sits in the spine. Opening the notebook, pages file past with previous notes. Scrambling a date in uneligible handwriting, and then, in block letters, where are you from? The gaze lies there for a full minute, and the book closes, the pen reattached to the spine. And the other book opens, a bookmark placed at the back and a hand holding it by the spine as the other scrolls to the next page.

---

Are you allowed to freak out? Are you allowed to keep going over the words you wrote, desperately hoping he saw them? Are you allowed to have your heart beat its way out of your rib cage because you know your soulmate is coming to Chennai?

You pace back and forth in your office, feeling the eyes of your office-roommate burn on you. He raises a brow as you stop, turn to face him and cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Uhh,” you say, “it’s complicated.” You drag a hand through your hair. Again, again, again. It grows annoying and you tie it up in a bun with the hairbands on your wrist.

Advik pushes himself from his desk, his chair rolling closer to you. He pulls on you to sit down in your own chair, and as you slump against it, he takes one of your hands in his. “You can tell me, I won’t…” He tries for a smile instead of finishing the sentence―nothing you find very comforting.

“It’s my soulmate.” It sounds weird saying out loud.

Your coworker cocks a brow. “Soulmate, huh?” His face gets a playful smirk and he turns your hand in his, but there is no tattoo on that one. Nor can you see the tattoo on your left wrist as you’ve perfected how to cover up the T.

“Yeah, soulmate.” Something tugs at your stomach. Advik moves to check your other wrist. Deep brown eyes look up at you, a frown thrown across it, mixed with something akin to fondness.

“You don’t have one, do you?” he asks, eyes glances down at your wrist again. His thumb strokes where the T hides underneath make-up. “That’s great news.”

Lips pressed together, and knowing people have been talking about you not having a soulmate for some time now, you don’t say anything. You let him stroke over your tattoo, even though he can’t see it.

He pulls back his sleeves and shows his wrists to you. “See, no soulmate.” The lopsided grin that accompanies makes you feel guilty, a stab of pain in your stomach and the far away feeling of impending sweat. “Isn’t that great?”

You shake your head. “That’s not…” The words feel wrong. But how else do you say it? “That’s not true. I have a soulmate.”

Advik frowns, his expression giving away what he says next, “but you have no tattoo?”

“Wrong,” you say and find a wet wipe in your purse. You rub it against your wrist, taking the time to get everything off. As the T is visible, you show it to him.

“Who is this T, then?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know. I know he’s an actor, and that he likes shakespeare. Uhh, he travels a lot and reads a lot. Probably from the west, I think because he’s usually awake when I go to sleep.”

“So, he’s in another time zone.” Advik shrugs, though a small smile plays on his lips, as if he’s happy with that. “Doesn’t that open up to, maybe, trying someone else?”

“I dreamt it tonight.” You take a deep breath. “He’s here. In Chennai. I saw his boarding pass.”

Advik raises a brow, his smile falling. “Well, then we’ll have to see if we can find him, right?”

“You’re gonna help me?”

He nods. “Totally. I might not have a soulmate, and have hoped you haven’t had one either, but you seem to want to find him. Why not help you?”

You shake your head, unsure what to think but your heart flips at the thought. A grin spreads across you face and the anticipation of finding him has your gut churn. Maybe things will go your way?

---

The bookstore you’re in feels like a dead end, just as every other bookstore you’ve been to. It’s not like you know he’ll even stop by one, you just know he likes to read.

Advik smiles tightly, his eyes glancing to the door every now and then as the bell above it rings. It signals new customers, but so far, you haven’t seen anyone that could be from the west. After all, you’re looking for what you believe to be a white male, and the people coming in... aren’t that.

“I don’t think we’re gonna find him,” you say and slide down the wall you’re leaning against. “How are we supposed to know he’ll come here?”

“Because he likes to read,” says Advik, “and this is the biggest bookstore in Chennai.”

You roll your eyes. “What has that got to do with it? He probably won’t come here, he’ll go to one of the small ones that are way cozier.”

“Y/N, he speaks English, how many bookstores here sells English books?”

“Uhh, all of them?”

Advik purses his lips, but glances at the door again. To your lovely surprise, someone white does come in. A woman with long blonde hair and a pretty face. Behind her, a white man―probably not who you’re looking for though―with more ginger hair. It curls at the ends, slicked back behind his ears and a little messy, but it goes great with the beard he’s sporting.

“Can it be him?” Advik arches a brow and looks at you.

You shake your head. “Probably not, he’s way too hot to be my soulmate.”

Advik chuckles. “Nah, he’s definitely within your league. Maybe check somehow?”

Answering that with a resounding ‘no’ doesn’t work because Advik grabs your wrist and drags you with him to a shelf near the two white people. You’re certain they’re a couple, as it seems unlikely to think anything else. Though they’re not as handsy at the couples you’ve seen on TV in most American shows.

You act as if you’re browsing―which you end up doing―and glance at the male every now and then. The book you pull out has an interesting title, but other than that you don’t really read what it’s about.

“Tom,” the woman says, voice low but not low enough for you not to hear it. “Do you really think this is the place?” Her accent is British, and how the male’s name starts with a T has you glance down at your wrist.

Advik wiggles his brows your way, nodding a little in the direction of the male. It works, he mouths. You roll your eyes, but still glance the stranger’s way. If it is him, you have to admit that’s not something you’re opposed to.

“What better place? A bookstore is the perfect―”

Whatever the end of the sentence is, you don’t get it as he speaks too low. His accent is British, which works well with the soothing deep tone of his voice, which again does have an effect on the feelings flowing through your veins.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The side-eyeing of him seems to go unnoticed, however, still scared of getting caught, you turn your caze back to Advik.

But your coworker isn’t where he was moments before. No, he’s… your gaze lands on him a meter away. The man is stumbling onto the male―Tom―with a book. Wide-eyed you go to him and decide to help. Which doesn’t work and instead you eye a clumsy mess together with the woman Tom’s with.

“Boys, huh?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

You nod. “Yeah,” you say. “That was on purpose, too.” Immediately after saying the words, you want to hide.

The woman smiles. “Oh, so a friend of yours then?”

“You can say that. Only I didn’t know he was going to do that.” You shake your head, eyes on the two men who both laugh awkwardly at each other.

“No, why did he do it?”

“He believes the guy is my soulmate.” You’re surprised at how casual it comes out.

Something lights up in the woman’s face. “Well, let’s find out then? I’m Sarah, by the way. His sister.” She holds out a hand, and you take it.

“Y/N,” you reply. “But I don’t understand how we’re supposed to find out.”

Sarah shrugs and takes your left hand in hers. She twists it to see your wrist. The T isn’t covered up today, and you’re almost relieved it isn’t. “That’s something, right? You know, he only has the initial, too. Maybe he is your soulmate?”

You nod. The prospect of being so close to figuring it out is overwhelming. It tugs at your gut, in a good and bad way. What if it turns out to be nothing like you want? Or to be completely awful? Or what if it’s everything you want? What if it actually brightens your days? And it will stop the nagging from your parents...

“Okay, how do we check?” you ask.

Sarah smiles. “You have to talk, and touch. The touch is important.”

“Have you met your soulmate?” you ask.

“Yeah,” she says and her smile brightens, “it’s worth everything.”

You mirror her smile and let out a deep breath. “Then let’s try this.”

Sarah waves her brother over to you, who seems deep in conversation with Advik. The two men walk over, and the glance over Tom gives you stirs something in your stomach. You press your lips together, and swallow. Only your throat stays dry.

God, is this really how I’m supposed to feel?

Sarah smiles. “Tom, this is Y/N.”

You extend a hand for him to shake, and he takes it in a firm grip that shoots electricity up your arm. She was right about the touch. But she hadn’t warned you about those ocean eyes that rip your soul out and tug at your heart.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft. You bite down on your bottom lip, afraid you’re gonna let something slip. And remembering you’re still holding his hand, you let go. The absence feels wrong, and that alone seems like all the answers you need.

He smiles at you. “Hi.”

“It’s official,” says Advik, “you are most definitely soulmates.”

Sarah nods in agreement.

You just shake your head with an embarrassed smile. “I guess? Wanna go on a date?” where did this confidence come from?

“I would love to.” Your heart flips, does that one-two beat.

So long, the nagging and rumours had scared you. Now that you’ve met your soulmate, you know it was worth the wait.

permanent: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

tom: @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn @mindlesschicca @justawriterinprogress @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert

bold in the taglist are people tumblr wont let me mention

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #twh #thomas william hiddleston #reader insert #soulmate au #tom hiddleston soulmate au #indian reader #sarah hiddleston

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drabbletale · 4 years

Text

@crysta-cub

Ummm. Have other stories that need work on...

Who says nano has to be on one story (says the one that has never done it)...

Taking a break can help... You need to rest your creativity some times

Brainstorm your story

Set smaller easier to deal with deadlines?

Unless you need prompts i can give prompts if you need them...

Were you around when I first joined the fontcest Tumblr community? I posted like 100 drabbles like... really fast. A lot of them were pre-written during the 2017 NaNoWriMo, which was the first (and only, so far) year that I won NaNo. This year, I really want to try to win with a single story, just to prove I can. To prove, to myself, that if I decide to actually write my own stories in the future, they might have a chance at getting finished? It’s a test of endurance, honestly. Also I’d love to bring this AU swapcest idea to light lol... Been in my head for months.

As for taking a break, I didn’t write yesterday... or do anything yesterday. I don’t even remember what I did, that’s how little I did lol! Breaktime is over.

I do need to brainstorm. I think tonight I might write an actual timeline out so I stop getting mixed up and writing scenes that refer to things that haven’t happened yet.

Write or Die has been helping with smaller deadlines! Like writing 1000 words in an hour and before I accomplish that goal, I can’t look at my computer at all.

I um... I’m not going to give up on NaNo. I’m not ready to give up on myself like that yet. I know I can do it! I took so much time off work (paid, dont worry) just to get this done! I wanna win so bad. :p

#dt replies #thank you for the response!#sorry if i seem stubborn #i just really want this to be my first 'real' win #you know? siiiigh #crysta-cub

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minhyuwun · 6 years

Note

Omg. Smut 5 6 13 please with Daniel. You dont know how I have been dying DYING to read a public ehem. LOL. the riskier the better! Omg! Ilysm!

oh no i feel like i’ve been writing too much daniel smut lately lmao anyway i hope i did ur request some justice anon! i guess u could say seeing the update on instagram…helped. dsjdsjkd anyway thank u for sending this in! i hope u like it 😬

prompt: (smut #5) “Try to stay quiet, understand?” & (smut #6) “We’re in public, you know.” & (smut #13) “You’re so much fun to touch.”

You thought tonight was the right time to wear the fancy dress Daniel got you for your anniversary last year. You haven’t really opened the box yet, but seeing the name plastered on it in gold lettering gives away how much it cost him to get it.

You had no trouble opening it, and when you do, you were greeted with the most lavish black silk you have ever seen. It glimmered under your bedroom lights. You quickly whisk it away from inside the box, letting it cascade down your bed. “Oh, wow. I have got to try this on!”

The private estate’s main entrance doors open upon your arrival. It was your parents’ wedding anniversary dinner and they definitely did not hesitate splurging. Distracted from eyeing the decor, you fail to recognize that everyone’s eyes were already glued on you. Your hair put up in a loose ponytail, wanting to emphasize how the dress boldly displays just the perfect amount of skin. And of course your favourite part, the dress’ slit which stops just right above your upper thigh, that meekly hikes up whenever you walk. You were always shy of your body, but you decided tonight was going to be different. Thanks to your boyfriend, Daniel, who thought you would look good in this.

Before you could proceed to the main dining hall, a hand slithers its way around your waist. You were greeted with this strong musky scent, hinted with just a sheer drop of coconut. “I knew it would look perfect on you,” he whispers in your ear. “Too perfect.”

You let go of his grip and turn to face him, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you for wearing it, gorgeous.” He says with a smile. You grab his hand and intertwine his fingers with yours, leading him towards the dining hall.

You let your phone out and scroll on your Twitter feed, getting easily bored from all the small talk. “Bored?” Daniel asks. You nod without turning to look at him. “Let’s play a game,” he suggests. Daniel’s hand slowly glides up your thigh, easily making its way through your dress’ slit. “I knew this would come in handy,” he says. You continue to ignore Daniel, knowing how he usually loves to kid around, or you know, maybe the feeling of his hand up your thigh gives you an incredible feeling.

He continues to rub his thumb in circles on your thigh. You don’t budge. “Are you ready?” he asks in a deep voice.

Finally, you turn to face him. “We’re in public, you know.”

“Well, that’s what table cloths are for, princess.” He chuckles. “You…” His hands suddenly slip higher, close enough, but not quite. You squirm, squeezing his hand with your thighs. “Are so much fun to touch.”

“Daniel, please. My entire family–and might I add, your mother, is here.” You were practically glaring at him now. Trying not to let your whispers get too loud.

“I don’t see you restraining,” he says, cocking his eyebrow. Suddenly, you feel his hand move your underwear to the side. Exposing your already wet cunt. “In fact, I don’t feel you restraining.” Honestly, this was actually turning you on. The thought of Daniel getting impatient and wanting to feel you right then and there despite the circumstances was pretty fucking hot, you thought to yourself.

You place your hand over his, not removing it, just to make it seem like you were innocently holding hands under the table. You slowly lean your head on his shoulder, “Fuck you, Daniel.” You tell him with a smile, careful enough to only let him hear it, making sure you smile at the others around the table as well.

“Aren’t you two so sweet? Someday, we’ll be attending your anniversary just like this,” your aunt tells you. “If we are, of course, still alive.” Everybody laughs, even Daniel, but not quite at your aunt. He laughs at the feeling of your thighs quivering with every contact his thumb makes on your clit.

“Jesus, fuck,” you whisper under your breath. Cautious with every move you make, struggling to keep yourself contained in public. You jerk your head back. Wanting nothing but to scream Daniel’s name.

“Careful, sweetheart. We don’t want them to know our little secret game, do we?” Daniel looks at you with nothing but pure mischief and amusement written on his face. You know he was enjoying this game of yours. Him in control of everything you’re feeling–especially now that you’re in public. “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

“You son of a-“ your words were cut off when he quickly inserts two of his fingers inside of you. His sudden contact with your weak spot causes a loud yelp from you, “Ah!” you scream and suddenly the entire table is focused on you. “I dropped my phone!” you tell them promptly. “It’s fine, I’ll get it later,” assuring them with a smile.

You hear Daniel laugh beside you, “I told you, try to stay quiet.” He removes his fingers from you, and in less than a second he puts it back again. He repeats this motion. Again and again and again. Getting rougher with each push, and messier with each pull. Your juices were practically dripping out as his fingers continuously lap themselves inside of you.

“Oh dear god,” you tell him in a whisper. “Fuck.”

Slices of cake were now being distributed around your table. “(y/n) sweetie, these are your favourite!” your mother tells you.

Without hesitation, you grab a bite of the cake. What a perfect moment to release an audible moan, “Mmm… these are so…so good,” you tell her with your eyes closed. “Let me have more of it.”

Daniel laughs at the way you look, moaning with each bite of the cake. Knowing damn well it wasn’t the cake making you moan that loud in public–but hey, that was your own little secret.

Daniel begins to fasten his fingers’ pace inside your dripping cunt. Which both of you were sure was probably leaking through the clothed chair by now. You struggle to keep yourself in place, badly preventing yourself from grinding on his thick and bony fingers that hit all the right spots inside of you.

You, of course, weren’t backing down from a game. “I dare you to make me fucking cum right now,” you whisper to his ear. “Make me cum, Kang Daniel.”

He smirks, “Well, a game is a game, princess.” His fingers were now going in and out of you faster than before. The sensation building up inside you. God, every single time the tip of his fingers hit that spot, you can’t help but let out a breathy moan. You quickly drink water, trying so hard to mask your impending orgasm right in front of everyone, drinking slowly enough to make sure you don’t choke.

“And we’ve been playing long enough. You’re right, I think it’s time we finish this,” he whispers in your ear, close enough that his lips meet your skin. This feeling causes you to shudder, further heightening your senses. You were now fully subjected under Daniel’s touch, about to reach your high any moment. Losing focus of the situation right in front of you.

He never lets go of the fast pace of his fingers, aggressively pushing themselves in and out of you easily with the amount of wetness your pussy has been releasing.

And with one final push, you cum all over Daniel’s fingers–“Fuck!” you scream, everyone’s heads turn to you once again. “This cake! Is so fucking good!”

“Stop sounding like you just had an orgasm every time you eat something good!” your mother tells you from across the table. “Also, language, young lady.” Then everyone shifts their focus from you and turns to laugh at what your mother has just said. Right now, you couldn’t care less about how much your mother has embarrassed you. You were too busy getting off on your high, panting for air, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Thank god your mother said that or else you wouldn’t even find time to breathe.

“That was fun,” Daniel says beside you. He finally removes his hand from under the table, then quickly dips his fingers onto the cake’s frosting. You watch as the glisten from Daniel’s wet fingers get covered in chocolate. He slowly licks his fingers, coated in the sweetness of your cunt mixed with chocolate. “Fucking delicious,” he turns to look at you with a full-on smirk and a raised eyebrow to match. “Wanna taste?”

“You jerk,” you slap him on his arm. “You’ll get more than just that from me later.”

“Sounds kinky to me,” he says. Taking another excruciatingly slow lick of his fingers–the sight of it all easily making you wet once again. “How about we bring some cake too?”

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slurpingmyhashbrowns · 3 years

Text

MCU fic recs - completed stories

Here i’ll be listing my favorite mcu fics that are finished. in another list at another time i’ll be doing those that are wip and/or abandond. some of these fics might not exactly be “mcu” but they will be understandable and readable with only mcu knowledge.

(most include romance and tony as the main character)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248145

Not Exactly What I Wanted by Tahlruil

summary:

Tony has always been happy to piss off Alphas who try to control him - especially Howard Stark. Unfortunately he managed to push his father just a little too far... and the man arranged to have him auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now he's married to a guy he hardly knows, one that is too damn patient and too damn nice. There's no way that isn't an act, and Tony is resolved to be a little shit until he finds out the limits of his husband's fake personality.

Though he's been back from the war for a while, Bucky has been left scarred by the experience. The most prominent one is the personality that came into being because of Hydra's torture and brainwashing attempts when he was captured. They were rescued before they became the Winter Soldier, but Winter is still very much sharing space in his head. Winter has never responded to anyone positively... until they met Tony at an auction Bucky had been dragged to by a former commanding officer. They are both captivated by the Omega and buy him despite their better judgement.

extra: this is a/b/o but soft, zero dub-con of any kind. The pairing is bucky/tony and the universe it takes place in is an AU. in case it wasn’t obvious this fic is romance centric (m/m). you can read this on ao3.bucky and the winter soldier are seperate personalities. doesn’t include explicit sex.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12659830/1/Out-of-the-Ashes

Out of the Ashes by VoicesOffCamera

summary:

"'We really can't draw any conclusions until we know all the facts.' / 'Like who the hell that Robin Hood wannabe was who outshot my agents using only a couple sticks and a string from the Dark Ages'" When a botched mission sends Phil Coulson after a mysterious archer, he gets much more than he bargained for. [Hawkeye Origin; No Slash]

extra: gen fic, hawkeye/clint centric. i haven’t read this in so many years but i remember it being good. includes zero sex. it’s multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841301/chapters/31833372

Forms of Love by bear_bell

summary:

Months after the Avengers' dispute in Germany, the team returns to the US and moves back into the tower. As always, everyone pretends that nothing happened. Tony is just fine with this. He's used to pretending, and he'll be damned if he lets any of them see him flinch.

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

extra: m/m - romance fic, bucky/tony and winter soldier/tony, bucky and the winter soldier are seperate personalities. it includes explicit sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889775/chapters/24202362

All of it Lovely by Ranni

summary:

Tony tells Anna he will stay with her and won't complain. Won't try to escape, won't try to fight her or anyone else. He'll do anything, as long as they don't do to him whatever it is that they have done to Clint.

It won't be hard, he thinks, to get away from her. He's one of the smartest people in the world, and he'll figure it out, even if he has to construct an Iron Man suit from scratch and fly them out. They've been in tighter spots before and made it.They'll be fine in the end. Just fine.

He tells himself that for the next two years.

**or** Tony and Clint are held against their will by an absolutely crazy woman.

extra: this is a basically a genfic - isn’t romance centric, and focused on clint and tony’s friendship, this fic has lots of trigger warnings and includes lots of angst with minimal comfort.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271731/chapters/16511242

A Wrench in the Machine by withasideofangst

summary:

Tony Stark is barely four years old when Howard and Maria Stark are killed in a car accident, engineered by Hydra.

The youngest Stark was supposed to die as well, but when he doesn't, Hydra realizes they can use the young genius.

Thus begins the story of the nameless hacker known only as 'The Mechanic,' who builds his first weapon at the age of four, Iron Man at the age of ten, and hacks the Avengers at the age of fourteen.

extra: genfic. doesn’t inlcude graphic/explicit sex. multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151150

Sins of the Father by Teeelsie

summary:

From this prompt on the avengerkink meme:

"I'm probably the only person who hasn't seen AoU yet, but I DO know that Clint has a family, and apparently is a pretty great Dad. Mixing that with comics canon that he had an abusive background? It's awesome that he managed to break the cycle like that and just be a great parent.

As for Tony, I think he's a lot more scared about having kids/turning into his father. There's a moment in Iron Man 3 with Harley, when the kid breaks off the suit's finger and he says sorry, and Tony just says "Are you?" in this hard tone before completely changing tracks and telling Harley not to worry about it. I get the feeling that he was beginning to mimic his father there, but the moment he recognized his behavior, he changed it. That's something I really respect.

So I'd like a moment between these two, dealing with Tony's worry about acting like his father, and Clint saying it doesn't have to be that way."

Basically, that.

extra: genfic, oneshot.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770927

Stuck with us by petroltogo

summary:

Prompt fill: can u write like a hs au, with avengers as a group of friends. they act like they think tony doesn't have feelings, they seem to never take him seriously and they often tease him or laugh at sth that actually hurts him (they dont know that it makes him feel bad) he usually just takes it, because he thinks he deserves it. but then he has just the worst day ever, and they make some comment abt sth and he just breaks and starts crying, cause he just wants someone to care abt him. they comfort him.

extra: genfic, oneshot, hurt/comfort.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675678/chapters/17482645

The Thousand Yard Stare by velveteenspirit

summary:

5 times one of the Avengers saw a gap in Tony's mask and 1 time they didn't. The Avengers realise they don't know Tony Stark as well as they thought they did.

extra: genfic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462872/chapters/30863187

Illuminate Me by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory

summary:

Tony isn't a healthy man. He's fine with that, really. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, he has a job to do that kind of has his health as a major requirement. So he unmakes himself, remakes the Accords, protects every single child super that enters his field of view, and hopes ferociously that the Avengers never come back to the US. He doesn't spend any time at all rebuilding Bucky Barnes' life. Not a single second. Anything he does that contributes to him is simply an accident.

Bucky is a patient man. It's ok if Tony wants to ignore him for now. He won't be able to forever.

(Somewhere in the world, a sense of dread crawls up the back of Tony's spine)

extra: has romance (but it is not the main topic of the fic), bucky/tony (m/m), multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999962/chapters/37331135

A Code Word for Caring by aliaoftwoworlds

summary:

Sam, Steve, Clint, and Scott are attacked on their way back to the US after being pardoned and are taken prisoner by HYDRA, along with none other than Tony Stark. Tensions are high already and HYDRA being involved makes everything worse, but what they’re put through may help Sam to humanize not just Stark, but the rest of his team too, and force him to accept that nothing is really as black and white as he’d like to think.

extra: genfic, inlcudes angst, multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312091/chapters/22800113

Tony's Girl by Crosshairs

summary:

When Tony Stark finally opens his eyes after being rescued from Siberia, he isn't the same man anymore. What happened in that abandoned Hydra base has broken him in ways that even Afghanistan hadn't.

But Tony is famous for his innate ability to fix things, even himself. Slowly, with the help of friends old and new, he learns to deal with his new status quo, picks up the pieces of his destroyed existence and rebuilds it from the ground up.

Until an unusual accident puts a new, interesting spin to his already interesting life.

extra: not genfic but not romance-centric, pepper/tony (m/f), multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985126/chapters/27111240

Anew. by IViv

summary:

In death, there was no glory, no redemption, no salvation.

Only darkness and ice—or that was what Tony thought. He closed his eyes in a Siberian bunker and opened them again on his 41st birthday, with War Machine flying into the distance.

extra: inlcudes romance, stephen strange/tony (m/m), multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17496737/chapters/41211317

Finding True North by NamelesslyNightlock

summary:

When Tony Stark is injured and forgets the past three years – forgets that the team have an Asgardian mage on their side, that the Rogue Avengers have returned to the Tower, that he is engaged to Steve Rogers – most would call it a tragedy. Loki, though, knows an opportunity when he sees one, and he’s not about to walk away from a chance to get what he wants.

extra: romance-centric, steve/tony and endgame loki/tony (m/m), no dub-con, no explicit sex, multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108418/chapters/20703637

The Killer and The Kid by tisfan

summary:

Imagine Tony getting deaged into a 5 or 6 year old, but instead of the team finding him, Bucky, still on the run and struggling with himself and the winter soldier, does. Bucky tries to take care of him, learning of all of Tony's issues and the abuse he went through. Eventually he has no choice but to come in and bring Tony to the avengers. After Tony comes back to himself they deal with the aftermath

CA:CW compliant, happens after Bucky is put back in cryo.

extra: includes romance, bucky/tony (m/m), no explicit sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254094

ready to comply. by rightsidethru

summary:

It wasn’t often that Tony himself went to the weapons conventions that those in the business knew about: he’d always been of the opinion that that was what his minions in R&D were for—scoping out the competition, making notes on key elements that they liked, seeing how Stark weapons were assessed by those in attendance. Tony already knew that his designs were top-of-the-line, that the companies who could stand up against the leviathan of his reputation were few and far between—but there were still contenders. Sometimes.

extra: pre bucky/tony (m/m), no sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/576665/chapters/1034224

Iron Man Yes, Tony Stark...Not Recommended by lilsmartass

summary:

Summary: Clint and Steve have both seen Natasha’s report on Tony and expect him to be a certain way. With Pepper now out of the picture, Bruce in India and Thor is Asgard they have no one to show them just how wrong first impressions can be.

extra: gen, no sex, multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830295/chapters/34322903

The Roles We Play by Wix

summary:

The rumors start almost immediately after Siberia. Whispers floating around that say the man in the armor these days isn’t Tony Stark.

extra: genfic, multichaptered. part 1 of series (the series is not finished).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167543

Tony Stark: Appliance Whisperer by Alex5132

summary:

After Tony over-reacts to some SHIELD agents breaking a microwave oven, Steve begins to wonder if there's something the team should know.

extra: genfic, no sex, oneshot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426284

fucking frozen wonderland by esama

summary:

Tony is left stranded in Siberia

extra: gen, part 1 of 3 part series, the series is complete, no sex

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911191/chapters/26913864

Peachy Keen by AnonEhouse

summary:

What if Tony decided in Siberia that he couldn't just go home? He was used to being the scapegoat, but this time the cost would be more than he could pay.

Ross would have the ammunition he needed to get Iron Man under his control, and what he'd do with the tech didn't bear thinking about.

Tony decided to use Protocol Pass The Torch. He'd be fine. A penniless fugitive's life would make a nice change of pace. Everything would be peachy keen.

(Tony miscalculated the pull the world had on him. He also miscalculated how many people would join him. Ultimately, Thanos underestimated him.)

extra: genfic, no sex, multichaptered.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817479

sugar and spice and all things nice by deathsweetqueen

summary:

“I don’t like this,” Steve mutters to him, as he shifts awkwardly on his feet in the lounge of Tony Stark’s absurdly large Malibu mansion.

Bucky sighs and resists the urge to roll his eyes. This isn’t the first time (and it certainly won’t be the last) that Steve has expressed that very sentiment, and while Bucky also recognises the futility and drawbacks to this particular job, it’s a job, it’s their job and it puts money in their bank account, which is something that Bucky won’t turn his back on.

“I just don’t understand why someone like Tony Stark needs a bodyguard,” Steve complains, quietly. “Some spoilt little rich boy, so full of himself that he thinks the whole world is out to get him?”

“Shut up, or you’re going to get us fired,” Bucky hisses.

Steve shakes his head. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want to have to spend the foreseeable future looking after some dolled-up, greedy prep school reject.”

Or, alternatively, five times that Tony Stark surprised Steve and Bucky, and one time they didn’t really care.

extra: romance-centric, tony/steve/bucky (m/m/m), oneshot, inlcudes exlicit sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531151/chapters/38725052

Rise Up by Wix

summary:

Tony leaves the Avengers in the wake of Ultron when he refuses to standby and approve of their choices. Fate's quick to step in though and show that where one door closes, another one just might open.

extra: pre-romance, basically gen, no sex

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