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idontknowreallywhy · 23 days

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Very veeeeeery remotely linked to Day 2’s prompt (blink and you’ll miss it) but here is a bit of a sequel to Inebriated Fishtank… in which they have not entirely ceased to be under the influence…

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An enthusiastic steel drum version of ‘Under the Sea’ blared out and Scott slammed his hand on to the comm, eyes still screwed shut… if he didn’t open them he wasn’t awake. And it could have been a butt-call…

He’d never prayed so hard for it to be a butt-call.

“Hey heeeeeeeey Scooooty-McNoodle!!!”

Scott pried an eye open to glare in the general direction of heaven…

“Hello Gordon. Which police station?”

“I am OFFENDEDED ancient brosicle! How could you pres… presufimicate such a thing?”

“You don’t need bail? Then why are you calling me? Go to bed you drunken fool.”

“Ah yea about that… “

‘What about it? Just sleep it off.”

“So… funny story! My fuzzy wuzzy beary pops actually did the whole arrangementing of beds thing.”

Wait.

Scott’s brain clicked up a gear from basic muscle memory to something resembling cognition.

“Gordon where is Virgil?!”

“He’s here!”

“Can I speak to him?”

“Um… noooooooooo”

There were several voices worth of giggling, none of which sounded like Virgil.

“Who’s with you? Where is Virgil?”

“Oh how rude of me over here we got…” There was a clatter and his brother’s voice faded out amongst some more distant giggling before Gordon returned, piercingly loudly:

“Stooopid floor. Anyways here we got Florrie, Alice and Alexi, say hi to Scooter ladies, he’s my biggest olderist bro and he’s even sexier than me and old dribbles here.”

A chorus of “Hi Scooter”

“Gordon! What’s wrong with Virgil?”

“You gotta say hi!”

“Gordon!!”

“You’re being rude! Say hi to the ladies!”

“Hi ladies” Scott muttered.

“NICELY!”

Scott knew an immovable squid wall when he heard it. Fine. He turned up the charm, and the volume, to max.

“Hello ladies!”

“Owie! Geez bro.”

“Virgil, Gordon?!”

“Yeah he’s pretty handsome. Still single too! Sure I can give you his number…”

“GORDON!!”

“Heeeeeeeeey bro. Love you bro. Love all the bros. Specially the grumpy turtle one.”

Scott tried another tack

“I love you too squid, but what happened to the grumpy turtle one?”

“Hezzzz a snooooozy liddle turtle.”

“So he’s in bed?”

“Nooo I toldja he’s here. Say hi Virgie.”

Silence.

“Awww he droolin’”

Scott was beginning to join the dots here.

“Gordon, please tell me Virgil wasn’t trying to match you?”

“I can one hunderb percival tell you that.”

“Would it be true?”

A pause and a definite snort in the background.

“Noooooooooooooooo”

Oh no.

If he’d consumed enough to make Gordon tipsy, there was no way Gordon and three women were going to be able to move the bear. He thought Virgil knew better.

Scott got up and put his trousers on. He could get to Brisbane in a few minutes in One…

There was more giggling and a deep bellowing laugh followed by a grunt.

“Omigosh I’m sorry I can help… gimme his arm… oopsy tha’s ‘is leg.”

More rustling noises.

“Oh I am sooooo bad manners! Scotty you gonna say hola to Juan too, he’s helping.”

“Hola Juan. Gordon, where are you? Do I need to come get you?”

“Naaaaw we goddim Scooteywoo”

“Then why are you calling Squid?”

“Need the bed place.”

“I don’t know where he booked Gords! Stay put I’ll come and get you.”

“Nawwwww I wanna take him to the art tom… tom… tomorning. Art ‘n waffles…. I pinky promised the Virg!”

Scott rested his head against the wall and counted to ten.

“What do you need Gordon?”

“T’get in his phone! I dunno his pass-thing! Need to find the resersermmmnn”

Scott did know it There were a million and one reasons why Gordon did not.

But he could either spill the beans now and take the consequences later, or head out to find them just in time for one or both of them to be sick on his shoes. Or in One. He shivered. No option really.

“Gordon you have to promise not to do anything bad with Virgil’s phone.”

“Yeah yeah I’m a good fishy”

“Gordon, pinky promise me.”

There was a tut and Scott could almost hear the eyeroll.

“I can’t reach your pinky to promise!”

“Fine. Pinky promise Juan then.”

Gordon did a stage whisper

“He doesn’ know a huge lodda English Scoobydoo.”

“Ok err” Scott racked his brains “could you put um, Alex was it? On the phone?”

Gordon huffed.

Rustling.

“Well hello there, handsome, this is Alexi.”

Pushing down the desire to bring about Gordon’s imminent demise, Scott had a sudden brainwave and put the charming voice on again. Yes, giving a total stranger access to his brother’s phone was a risk but less of one than allowing Gordon unfettered access without the security of a pinky promise - generally accepted to be the only law he considered himself bound by.

“Alexi listen carefully, I’m going to give you the passcode. Could you use it to find the reservation then lock the phone again please?”

“Sure, honey.” The reply was breathy. Intimidatingly breathy.

“Ok, you ready?”

“I’m all yours”

Shudder.

“Exclamation mark, eight, one, zero, zero, capital D, lower case Y, exclamation mark; capital F, one, five, lower case H, exclamation mark.”

“Ok honey that worked, I’m in. I’ll get your brothers to their hotel. I’ll leave my number on your brother’s phone just in case you need it later, ok?” She was essentially purring now.

“Oh that won’t be…” Scott paused. He needed all the allies he could get here.

He cleared his throat “That would be lovely, thank you for your help Alexi.”

There was a shriek and more unmistakable giggling as Scott hung up with a wry smile before collapsing back on to his bed and closing his eyes. Good luck Juan and co.

Aa he drifted off he considered how it was a shame Virgil would have to change that one tomorrow.

It was so apt.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #fish tank #fishtankweek2024 #inebriated tracies #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #day 2: orchestra aquarium art museum #thunderfluff

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lavenderbexlatte · 8 months

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day 10: virginity

nct/wayv 1.4k words female reader insert Reader x Liu Yangyang NSFW

🖤 warnings: outing your bro as a total virg, secret crushes, situation-typical coercion, overuse of brospeak/yangspeak🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"I'm not a fucking virgin. Get out of my room."

Yangyang's voice holds more vitriol than you've probably ever heard from him, and that's how you know that you and Renjun - mostly Renjun - have officially crossed a line.

"It was just a joke," says Renjun.

You smile, but it feels more like a grimace on your face. "Obviously it was a little-"

"I mean, sorry if you're sensitive about it," he continues, absolutely unapologetic. "Like, okay, Xiao Dejun, way to be mad about nothing."

Yangyang fixes him with a look that would send a lesser zodiac sign running. "I told you to get out of my room."

Renjun, Aries sun, just shrugs. "If it wasn't true, you wouldn't be so mad."

But Renjun does leave, and you follow him out, giving Yangyang another pleading smile that he misses entirely as he turns around to clamp his headphones over his ears and glare at his computer screen.

What was supposed to be a chill night in Yangyang's apartment is ruined. His roommate is out of town and everything (Ten is cool but he's overbearing, and he wins every single board game that the lot of you try to drunkenly play, so you don't miss him this time).

But Renjun had been bragging about his latest hookup-turned-Something, with an insufferable guy from the music department, when the cursed line had been uttered.

Yangyang had showed about three seconds of disinterest, and Renjun had snapped, "At least I'm getting some. Not like some adult virgins we know."

It was vague but pointed, undeniably mean. Renjun can be mean, everyone knows that, but it's not usually used against any of the friend group. That's why, at this sudden slight from one of his closest friends, Yangyang immediately blushed an angry pink and lost his shit.

The two of you were banished from Yangyang's bedroom, where the PS5 is, but not from the apartment yet, so Renjun makes himself at home on the couch while you head to the kitchen for a beverage of some kind. And to clear your head.

You'd never even thought about Yangyang's virginity status before. Why would you? He's your friend, a dorm neighbor from freshman year who turned into a friend after one too many floor parties spent together.

Renjun really called him out, and from the over-the-top anger he'd received in return, you can't help but think that Renjun was one hundred percent right. You go on the occasional date that the boys know about, and Renjun is mostly out of his thot phase now but there was a while back there when he was getting around impressively. Ten, Kun, Chenle...even Dejun has incredible cringefail dick game.

But Yangyang...

"Did you really have to say that?" you ask, joining Renjun on the couch with a bottled coffee thing that you're pretty sure is Ten's.

He glances at the drink. "Ten-ge is gonna be pissed."

"Because you were kind of out of pocket."

"I didn't think he'd be so..." Renjun sighs. "I'll apologize when he chills out."

That's a good plan, in theory.

Only in theory, though, because Yangyang doesn't chill out. Not for the rest of the evening.

After another hour or so on the couch with you, Renjun knocks on his bedroom door, to no answer. He calls it a night and heads home soon after that.

You stick around.

The dude very obviously had his feelings hurt, and eventually he's going to need to talk about it. Ten is usually the one who gets Yangyang to open up, but he's not here, so you think you're probably the next best thing. A very far second.

It's a dumb thing for anyone to be upset about. Especially someone as interesting and funny as Yangyang, someone so cute, so attracti-

Well. No reason to go overboard.

You knock on Yangyang's door, this time. It's late now, creeping closer to midnight, but you know that Yangyang doesn't sleep until the sun comes up again.

He doesn't answer. You knock harder.

The door flies open, Yangyang's snarling face on the other side. "Jesus fuck, Renjun, go shove a-"

"He went home," you interrupt.

"Then you should-"

"Can we talk?" you ask. "Pretty please?"

"About what? All the ass I'm not getting?"

You shrug. "If that's how you wanna phrase it, I guess."

It wouldn't surprise you if Yangyang stuck to his guns on this, but he sighs. He lets the door fall open more, as he turns on his heel to head back to his gaming chair.

"Can't wait until Hyuck and the whole hip-hop team know that I'm perpetually bitchless," Yangyang says.

There's a second of pause while you try desperately to figure out who Hyuck is - Renjun's fuckbuddy, that's it. The mop-headed one that Ten hates. And then you move to sit on Yangyang's bed.

"Renjun wouldn't do that," you say. "He felt really bad."

"He never feels bad."

That's kind of true, but still. "You guys are friends. He wouldn't wanna, like, fuck up your life on that scale."

"People are gonna know that I'm bitchless, and then no one will ever talk to me again."

"Stop saying bitchless, it's weird," you say. "And I really don't think anyone cares."

Yangyang spins his chair around to face you, your knees nearly touching as he looks at you with imploring puppy eyes. "It's not like I'm not trying, dude."

"Third-wheeling Ten to Johnny Suh's frat parties does not count as trying."

He ignores you. "I wanna get laid. It's just a lot of work, and people are so fake, and-"

"Just fuck someone you know," you interrupt. "It's either a total stranger, or someone you know well. Those are the best choices.

"Really?"

"In my experience, yes."

There's a beat of silence, and then, slowly, Yangyang's face breaks into a devious, awful grin.

It takes you another few seconds to figure it out.

"No!"

"Oh, come on!" he whines.

"Not if we were the last two people on earth!"

"You're already here!"

You scoff. "Oh, yeah, because that helps your case so much. Just what everyone wants to hear. 'You're convenient!'"

"It's not like that," Yangyang says. "You know I think you're amazing."

You're unreasonably touched, for an instant, by his choice of flattery. Not hot, not cool. Amazing.

"I know you're desperate, but it's a bad idea," you say.

But even as you protest, you know how you feel.

Yangyang is a good friend, a buddy. He's also irresistibly charming and quick, increasingly handsome as he's grown into his features over the few years you've known him. You've kind of got a soft spot for him, more than for any of your other friends, and you're suspecting that he kind of knows it.

"Fine," he says. "I'm just going to deal with my virg sadness by rubbing one out."

"Ew."

As if daring you, Yangyang slips his stupid cutoff tee over his head, standing there in just his low-slung shorts. He dramatically walks the semicircle around you and flops down on his back on the other side of the bed. You eye the pale jut of his ribs against his skinny torso, the wispiest excuse for a happy trail-

"You can leave. Or you can stick around," he says. "Y'know. If you want."

"You wouldn't dare-"

But he dares, hands going to the buckle of his thick cloth belt.

Well.

Ten's not home, and won't be home all week. Renjun is gone.

You stand up from the bed, as Yangyang is still undoing his belt with agonizing slowness, and slam and lock his bedroom door. Can't be too careful. Lots of people know the passcode to get in here. And the last thing you want is Guanheng or Chenle or someone coming in here and seeing this.

Seeing you, as you throw the last of your caution right out the slightly-popped window and climb right onto the bed again.

Right onto Yangyang.

He yelps, like he thinks you're attacking him, as you move to sit on top of his thighs, effectively pinning him to the mattress. The open belt and button of his shorts is tempting, though the thick band of his boxers has been visible the whole time anyway.

Yangyang's face, however, is just intrigued. Flustered, a bit, but not scared. His hands twitch against his covers like he wants to touch you, but isn't sure if he can.

"Do you actually wanna be un-virginized?" you ask, annoyed despite all of your interest (how did you get here?!).

He nods as well as he can, hair fanning against his pillow. "So badly."

Your heart is fluttering. You hate to admit it.

"Then it's your lucky day."

#kinktober 2023 #kpop kinktober #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #yangyang fanfic #yangyang fanfiction #yangyang smut #nct yangyang fanfic #wayv yangyang fanfic #nct yangyang smut #wayv yangyang smut #kpop fanfic

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skymaiden32 · 9 months

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Bad News

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds, Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or post new stories.)

Gordon gets a call from Marineville.

Set in the Mariana Trench-verse.

Continuity: TOS

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Gordon had been enjoying the peace and quiet, floating along the pool’s surface, savouring the moment. And then all hell had broken loose…

“Alan Shepard Tracy, you get back here right now!”

The youngest Tracy brother’s impish grin was audible as he taunted his unfortunate target. “You’ll have to catch me first, Virg!”

A third voice joined the fray, calmly attempting to quell the flames of the brewing argument. “Alright fellas, that’s enough.”

Virgil growled lowly. “Easy for you to say, Scott. It’s not your Thunderbird that has ‘Thunderbird 3 rules, Thunderbird 2 drools’ written all over it!” The silence was deafening. “In bright pink paint!” Okay, even Gordon had to admit that was going a little too far.

“He did what?!” …And big brother’s calm was gone. Gordon didn’t need to look up to picture the look on Scott’s face. He’d been on the receiving end of what they all liked to call The Stare more than anyone else. And he certainly didn’t envy Alan right now.

The aquanaut whistled, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “You want my opinion?” He took their silence as a yes. “Make him clean it up, then ground him for a month.” He moved off of his back, and swam towards his brothers, stretching as he did so.

“I’m not a little kid anymore!” Alan protested.

Virgil huffed, still a little annoyed with the prank, but at least Gordon could hear the amusement in his voice. “Gordon probably means grounding as in no missions, not staying in your room.”

Alan grumbled. “Same thing to us, isn’t it?”

“Should’ve thought of that before doing it then.” Scott folded his arms. “You’ll definitely be cleaning that up, immediately.” Alan sighed, accepting his fate. “I’m not going to ground you, since I have to stay to manage the island while Dad’s away and someone has to fly Thunderbird 1. Wait a few hours though and you’ll have a fresh job lined up.”

Their little brother slumped over, trudging over to the scene of the crime. “I better get to it, then…”

“Yeah, you better.” Virgil’s voice followed him. “You never know when we’ll be needed on call!”

“Speaking of Dad,” Gordon hauled himself out of the pool, and grabbed the towel he’d set aside earlier to dry himself off, “what’s the latest from Tracy HQ?” Their father had been called into an urgent meeting with Tracy Industries’ Board of Directors earlier that week, and from what they’d heard from him so far, it was a real doozy.

Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nothing good, I can tell you that…”

Virgil whistled lowly. “That bad, huh?”

“Yep.”

“How long do you reckon he’ll be?” Gordon asked.

“I’m not really sure.” Their eldest brother shrugged. “The end of the week at the very least…”

Gordon ran a hand through his wet hair. “Well, I hope he gets back soon.” He started, throwing a cheeky smile in Virgil’s direction. “Too much stress is bad for you. Ages you by about a century.” Virgil smirked, catching on. “Ooo,” Gordon made a show of it, pointing at a random spot on Scott’s head, “is that a new grey hair?”

Virgil rubbed his chin. “You know, I think it might be, Gordon.” He hummed. “Either that or it’s an old one and big brother’s hair dye isn’t working anymore.”

“Haha. Very funny.” Scott deadpanned. “I’ll have you know that this,” he pointed to his hair, “is all natural.”

Gordon leaned in. “Are you sure?” He stage-whispered. “You are getting very old, Scooter. We’re just looking out for you…” He put on his best innocent face.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw some crow’s feet the other day.” Virgil added.

“Alright fellas, cut it out, will you?” Scott rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as his brothers snickered. Back in the lounge, the phone rang loudly. “I’d better get that. Might be Dad…”

They watched as their brother disappeared back inside the house. Virgil threw a grateful glance in Gordon’s direction. “Thanks Gords. I needed that laugh, even if it’s at Scott’s expense.”

“At least Scott’s a good sport about it. We wouldn’t dare make those jokes if it genuinely upset him.” Gordon chuckled, and Virgil nodded in agreement before the aquanaut changed the subject. “Don’t want to strangle Alan anymore?”

“Oh no, I’m still gonna kill him.” The pilot smirked. “My improved mood just means he has more time to plan his escape route.”

“It better be a good one then.”

“Gordon!” Scott’s voice drifted out towards them from the house. “It’s for you!”

Virgil followed his brother upstairs and into the lounge, where Scott was waiting with the video caller on. “Is it Dad?”

Scott shook his head, looking at Gordon. Based on the look on his face, they could tell it was pretty serious. “WASP business…”

Gordon quickly made his way over to where the grim face of his old Commander sat. “Commander Shore.” He nodded respectfully, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothes. “What can I do for you?”

Shore took one look at Gordon before speaking. “I’m going to assume that you just went swimming, Lieutenant Tracy.” Gordon nodded. “Then I’ll say no more about that.” He cleared his throat. “I called you to give you an update, and to make you an offer.”

The aquanaut frowned. “It must be pretty big, if you’re calling someone who left the WASPs a long time ago.”

“I realise this must be confusing, Tracy. But in truth, we’re in a tight spot.” Gordon gestured for him to continue, and Shore sighed. “Stingray is short a crew member.” Gordon’s eyes widened. “We don’t know for how long, quite possibly a good while.”

“Who? And how?” Thunderbird 4’s pilot asked, immediately worried for his old friends. He needed to know the full story.

Shore gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you the full story, Tracy. Former WASP or not, you no longer have Marineville clearance.”

“At least give me something, Commander.” Gordon pleaded. “They’re my friends. I need to know if they’re okay.” Out of the corner of his eye, the aquanaut saw his older brothers inching closer, ready to offer comfort in any way they could. Gordon found himself feeling incredibly grateful for it. The Commander just shook his head. Gordon sighed, changing the subject. “You mentioned an offer?”

Shore seemed thankful for the change in topic. “As you know, you served temporarily on Stingray under Captain Holden before Lieutenant Griffiths took over hydrophones.” Gordon nodded. “I’m inviting you to return to active service as a temporary replacement to fill the position on Stingray’s crew. I would be able to give you the full story then. Of course, you don’t have to accept, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to leave Thunderbird 4 without a pilot, but…”

“Thunderbird 4?” Gordon pushed his astonishment that Shore knew the truth far beneath the surface, attempting to play it off as a case of mistaken identity. In the background, Scott and Virgil looked as if they’d seen a ghost. “With all due respect sir, you must be mistaken. How could I possibly be an International Rescue operative?”

“Quite easily, I think you’ll find.” Shore smiled. “The stunts I’ve heard Thunderbird 4 pull off, well, there’s a few men who are capable of them, but there’s only three aquanauts I can think of who would actually try, one of them works for me, another I don’t know the location of. The third one is you.” Gordon could say nothing to change the older man’s mind. The Commander grinned in triumph, knowing he was correct. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me…” He didn’t dare mention that he’d guessed it was his old friend Jeff who was running the whole outfit, thus making International Rescue a family affair.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Gordon muttered, and frowned in thought. “Well, for that reason, Commander, I’m afraid I’ll have to reject your offer to rejoin the Stingray crew. As much as I enjoyed my life at WASP, it’s time for me to stay close to my family…”

Commander Shore smiled. “Of course, I understand. Before I let you go though, I will give you some advice…” Gordon raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Be careful who you trust, Gordon Tracy. Even our closest friends can cut us deeply. And the funny thing about betrayal is that it never comes from an enemy…” He moved to sign off. “I wish you luck, and good day.”

Gordon was faced with a black screen, playing the Commander’s last words to him over and over again in his head. The knowledge that his old Commander knew he was an International Rescue operative was the least of his worries. Betrayal never comes from an enemy… Shore had told him the truth of what had happened all this time. A member of the Stingray crew had gone rogue.

He was barely aware of what was going on around him. His brother's voices were right next to him, asking if he was okay and begging him to say something, but all he heard were whispers. He could see Virgil in front of him, shaking him gently, but he seemed so far away. He felt Scott wrap an arm around him in a sideways hug, slowly leading him elsewhere, but felt nothing. He just felt… numb.

The next time he was aware of anything, he was sitting on a flat rock, looking out towards his favourite place, the ocean, next to his favourite people in the whole world. He lifted his head off of Scott’s shoulder, stretching out his tired limbs, and just sat with his brothers, watching the sun go down on the horizon.

Alan came down from the house with an ice cold glass of water, which Gordon took gratefully. The youngest Tracy sat between Gordon and Virgil, loath to get between Smotherhen and his current concern. The four of them just sat in silence, worries and feuds of the day put aside temporarily...

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #stingray 1964 #stingray fanfiction #thunderfam #gordon tracy #alan tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #commander sam shore #sky writes stuff

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astranite · 11 months

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Bruised

Earth and Sky! Hurt/comfort. Some angsting then hugs. Featuring Scott and his guilt, and Virgil being a protective brother.

“Virgil is covered in bruises from a rescue gone wrong, but Scott has him far more worried.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48794371

-----

Virgil felt Scott’s eyes on him from the doorway. He kept his movements steady, avoiding twisting his torso as he reached for the clean pyjama shirt lying on his bed. Soft cotton bunched in his hands, then he pulled it over his head, timed to a careful rhythm in his mind. He winced as the action tugged at his already aching muscles. He’d be feeling this for days.

Virgil turned to face Scott. The hall light silhouetted his brother’s lean figure, his brows throwing dark shadows across his face. He leant on the door frame, casually, as if he just happened to find himself nearby. Virgil knew Scott far too well to fall for that. After what happened today there wasn’t going to be anything Scott was leaving to chance.

His brows threw dark shadows across his face. Scott flinched when Virgil called his name and abruptly straightened, caught out staring. Wasn’t like Virgil cared about that.

He cared more about the way Scott’s expression crumpled for the briefest second before he hitched a smile back on his face.

“I just wanted to—“ Scott trailed off, waving the tea towel wrapped ice pack clutched in his hand.

“Thanks,” Virgil smiled and accepted it, with indents left from Scott’s fingers digging into the gel. It didn’t matter he’d already gotten one for himself, he wasn’t going to pry apart Scott’s flimsy excuse to stay close.

The cold seeped into Virgil’s shoulder, soothing achy muscles where he pressed the pack against the worst of his injuries.

“Your back,” Scott began.

Virgil huffed and rolled his eyes, hoping to lighten the mood. “It’s not pretty, I noticed.”

Mottled bruises covered nearly every centimetre of his skin. Reds, blues, purples, an artist’s palette of livid blotches. In a few days they’d bloom to their full rainbow glory.

The places where the exo-suit had dug in upon the impact were black. Scott would know exactly the pattern they marked out, and exactly the moment of rescue that caused them.

Because he’d been right there with Virgil. A collapsing skyscraper, its foundations unmoored by an earthquake. Concrete dust hanging thick in the air, obscuring their vision. The screech made by the falling steel girder cutting through it. Scott had been right underneath. A split second decision had Virgil bodily shoving him out of the way. No matter how long he had to think about it, he never would have made another choice.

The steel landed at the same moment Scott did, sprawled across the ground. Blue eyes had widened as Virgil was crushed beneath the rubble.

But long story short, Virgil was fine. Banged up and bruised, sure, but fine. He’d had the exo-suit. He’d lifted the girder off himself with a grunt of effort, and longed for a hot shower on the flight home. They’d carried on the rescue.

Scott’s hand landing on his shoulder was predictable, no matter how much Scott liked to think of himself as anything but. Virgil would’ve laughed if not for the pain in his ribs. As it was, he gasped, because Scott had accidentally poked at one of the worst patches, and damn that hurt. Hopefully Scott wouldn’t have heard his sharp intake of breath, but that was as likely as Two beating One in a speed race.

Scott snatched his hand away from Virgil as if he’d been burnt. He held his arms up in surrender, a stricken look crossing his face.

“Sorry Virge. I didn’t mean— I’m really sorry. You didn’t say they were so—“ Scott spoke rapid fire.

“It’s fine, Scooter. I’m alright.” Virgil hurried to calm him before the guilt set in. Over an accident, once again for something that wasn’t Scott’s fault.

“They’re just bruises,” he reassured, “They look far worse than they are.”

Scott’s eyes met Virgil’s before they slipped away, tracing where the bruises covered Virgil’s body, visible at his neck and disappearing beneath his T-shirt.

Scott wore that brittle smile Virgil hated. He hated it because Scott was upset, and he hated it because it meant Scott felt like he couldn’t show it. As if by feeling, he was showing weakness. As if somehow he’d be letting them down.

Virgil moved towards Scott carefully, into arm’s reach of his biggest brother.

He was just close enough to hear Scott whisper, “I wish I could take the world off your shoulders.”

How many times had Virgil wanted to tell Scott the exact same thing? Over and over, the words had been on the tip of his tongue, after patching Scott up rescue after rescue when he leapt in head first, without a care what happened to himself. After finding Scott dead asleep at dad’s desk, surrounded by half-completed reports, too many times to count. After watching how he crumbled the moment he thought no one could see him.

Guilt welled up in sky blue eyes as Scott hesitantly reached out to Virgil. He brushed his fingers over Virgil’s elbow, touching Virgil like he was fragile, when maybe Scott was.

Virgil closed the distance between them, pulling Scott into a hug.

“You can’t take the world off my shoulders,” He said softly. Because the world was already resting on Scott’s. “And I wouldn't want you to. I don't like seeing you hurting either.”

Maybe one day Scott would get it through his thick skull that Virgil didn’t want him to throw himself into unnecessary danger at every turn.

Scott clung to him, still careful, ever so careful, of Virgil’s bruises. It was only those who didn’t know him well enough who called Scott reckless when it came to his brothers.

Virgil wrapped his arms around Scott’s waist, then smushed his face into the crook of Scott’s neck. He couldn’t bear the way Scott tried to hold himself apart from everyone when he was hurting too.

When he breathed in, Virgil could smell the soap they had in the locker room showers and an edge of distinct after shave that meant Scott had nicked his bottle once again. He couldn’t be mad about it right now, not while he was pretending not to notice Scott trembling.

Very few things scared Scott, but the thought of one of his brothers getting hurt had him terrified. Today he’d seen a building fall on top of Virgil. How he didn’t get that he did the same thing to everyone else when he pulled another stupid stunt.

Virgil ran a hand up and down Scott’s back, just hanging onto him. Scott needed the reassurance that Virgil was alright. It had taken years for Virgil to figure out a lot of Scott attempting to smother his younger brothers was his way of keeping them close. Of hiding his clinginess and saving face.

Of course Scott would need to be near after what had happened today.

But Scott tensed, as if steeling himself, then pulled away. Always afraid of taking too much, of leaning on anyone too heavily, when he would give everything for them. Virgil missed Scott immediately, the warmth and the feeling of his big brother safe in his arms.

Scott’s jaw was set, chin stubbornly, defiantly raised. Virgil could still tell his hands were shaking in spite of how they were curled into fists.

“I should let you get to sleep,” Scott said abruptly, “G’night.”

It was a drunken Scott who had confessed to Virgil years ago that he thought if he hung on to his brothers too tightly, he’d never let go at all.

Scott turned to walk back out the door. Virgil grabbed his hand to stop him, curling his own broad fingers around Scott’s slender ones, gripping hard.

“Scotty, just stay,” Virgil appealed.

Scott jerked to a halt.

If Virgil let him go, Scott would sit in his room and stew in his guilt. For an unavoidable accident during a rescue, for a choice Virgil had made, for once again nothing that Scott had even remotely failed at. But he was hurting over it and Virgil didn’t want him to be alone right now.

Beneath Virgil’s fingers, Scott’s pulse thrummed far too rapidly, well above his resting rate. Scott hesitated.

“I’m here,” Virgil said simply.

Scott shoulders slumped in exhaustion, showing relief through the cracks of Scott’s Commander facade. He relented, stepping back towards Virgil.

Virgil crossed the room to sink down on his bed, dragging Scott with him. When Scott perched on the edge, Virgil patted the mattress beside him firmly. Usually Scott would be the first take an opportunity to cuddle, but today Scooter was clearly intending to continue being a self sacrificing idiot.

Time to bring out the big guns then. Virgil opened his arms with his best pleading little brother expression. “Scotty, I need a hug.”

Sure enough, Scott was right there by his side in seconds. Gordon wasn't the first Tracy to perfect the big brown sad eyes look, or put it to good use. Virgil’s amusement at the expression’s effectiveness was overshadowed because the only reason he was using it currently was Scott’s inability to ask for anything for himself.

Scott made to rest his head on Virgil’s shoulder like he normally would after tiring missions, but he paused. “Your bruises—”

“That side’s good. You won’t hurt me,” Virgil reassured.

Scott’s blue eyes flicked to Virgil’s own, assessing whether he was telling the truth. Always worried about his brothers.

Something shifted though, then Scott leant against Virgil, head on his shoulder like it should be.

Virgil shuffled to make their position easier on Scott’s neck, and took the opportunity to sling his legs over Scott’s lap, to keep him there in case he suddenly got any wild ideas about moving.

Finally, finally, Scott cracked a smile at that.

Summoning a hologram from the wall, Virgil brought up his digital drawing programme for something to keep him occupied. He’d rather the texture of real pencil against paper, but his sketchbook was across the room, and no way he was going anywhere right now. Even a stylus, he knew he’d left one around here somewhere from drawing on his tablet this morning, but he’d have to dig through his blankets to find it.

Scott watched on as Virgil dragged his fingers through the air, leaving streaks of light mapping out the familiar lines of Thunderbird Two. A rough sketch, as if looking up at his ‘bird from the hangar floor. With the hundreds of times Virgil had drawn, painted, even attempted to sculpt Two, it was easy to depict her from memory.

Comforting and familiar, just as much as being tangled up with Scott was, him looking on as the drawing formed. They’d done this since they were both kids; Grandma said that curling up with Virgil while he drew was one of the few times Scott would sit still.

By the time Virgil moved onto sketching One, Scott’s eyes were shut, his breathing deep and even, resting heavily on Virgil. He’d only blocked out the basic form of the rocket-like craft, before he flicked the drawing and hologram away to a save file.

Virgil carded his hand through Scott’s hair, gently tugging through the loose curls. The messy brown strands fell over Scott’s forehead in an unusual sight, meaning he’d come straight to Virgil after showering, instead of taking the time to gel it into submission.

Rarely was Scott not one hundred percent put together, forcing himself into a box of who he thought he should be that reminded Virgil too much of military spit and polish.

Scott leant into his touch as Virgil’s fingertips brushed over temples.

Scott was an infamously light sleeper, always ready to leap up at the slightest sign of anything, unlike Virgil who could only be roused by the emergency callout klaxon or the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The small movements told him Scott was pretending to be asleep. Virgil didn’t call him on it, just gave his brother all the comfort and affection he could while Scott would accept it.

He pressed a kiss to Scott’s forehead, then rested his own head on Scott’s, cheek against soft hair. The steady breaths at his neck let him know Scott probably would be asleep soon.

Virgil’s body still ached, but he was okay. He had his big brother here with him, and he knew all of the others were safe and sound on the island and above it. Virgil let his eyelids slip shut, holding Scott close.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderfam #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky #AstraWrite

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calethelettuce · 8 months

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SaSi Prinxiety Week 3/7: Console Conundrums

Prompt: Arcade

Tags: @prinxietyweek

Synopsis: Roman and Virgil head to the newly built arcade in The Imagination on a date. Unbeknownst to them, Remus paid the area a little visit. The two set off to clean up (but not really) Forbidden Creativity's mess (and maybe see if they can play a game of Pacman together after).

Characters: Remus, Roman, Virgil

Relationships: Romantic Prinxiety

TW: Swearing, Remus existing

Virgil’s usual routine of sleeping until 3PM was interrupted by an awfully obnoxious knock at his door. He ignored it the first time, burrowing farther into his blanket fortress. As the annoying noise continued, this time faster and much louder, he heard someone call to him from outside.

“Virgil! My dark and stormy knight, it’s time to wake up!”

Virgil groaned. It was only 11! Far too early. “Screw off, Princey! Come back in four hours!”

“No sir! You, my lovely emo, have been requested!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Whoever it is can wait!”

He heard footsteps while he and Roman stood there, yelling at each other through the door. He heard Roman mutter an apology to someone, before he continued, saying, “As your boyfriend, I am requesting access by knocking, however asserting my authority by coming in anyway!”

Virgil put a pillow over his head and screamed into a second one as Roman pulled open the door.

“Go away already!”

Roman sat down at the foot of Virgil’s bed, crossing his legs. “Too much extra work.”

“What the hell do you want, Princey?” Virgil eventually picked up his head, putting the pillow back into his spot as he partially sat up, hair even messier than normal. “You’re kinda interrupting me.”

Roman beamed at him, cupping the purple-clad side’s cheek with a hand. “You’re adorable when you’re mad at me.” He teased, winking, “But I’m here to invite you to something!”

Virgil gave him the most annoyed expression he could muster at the time. “Gee, wonderful. I’ll do it later.” He flopped back down, throwing a blanket over his head.

Roman laughed at the action, moving closer. “Come on, Virge, please?”

Virgil kicked him in the side.

“Ow! What the heck?!”

Virgil stifled a giggle. “Deserved.”

“Yes, but OW!”

Virgil was not happy to be awake. Roman led him down the sidewalk of their neighborhood in The Imagination, the prince talking excitedly about a new project he had just finished.

“I think you’ll like it! It has that one game where you have to cross the street!”

Virgil gave him a look. “It’s literally called Crossy Road, genius. Even Logan, who probably has never even touched a mobile game, knows that.”

“Whatever, it’s still there!”

“Yeah, but do you have DDR?”

“Of course I do! Patton and Janus requested it!”

“Project Diva?”

Roman paused. “Is that the Miku game?”

“No shit.”

“Uh…” he paused, snapping his fingers. A small spark emitted from his fingers. “Yes! It is most definitely there!”

"I'm gonna pretend like I didn't just watch you summon it." Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets, walking next to Roman. "I'm gonna kick your ass at Pacman though."

"I didn't take you for a gaming type," Roman mentioned, placing an arm around Virgil's shoulders, "I thought you were more of a .. well-"

"Someone who doesn't do much?" Virgil finished his sentence for him. "Yeah, I know. I like horror games the most."

"It matches your dark and dreary soul!"

As the sides talked, they neared the small, retro-style building. A large, neon sign out front read "Pixel Palace". Virgil wasn't surprised at the name.

"Something doesn't look right." Roman jogged over to the door, inspecting it. "Somebody was here."

Virgil peered in through the windows and curtains, squinting and trying to see as best he could. He certainly could sense something in there, but what? "Didn't you have the doors locked?" he questioned, tapping at the glass, "Who could have gotten in?"

"...well-"

Virgil turned to face the Prince. "So you're telling me that you didn't lock the doors?"

"It's an arcade! I shouldn't need to lock the doors! The only person I wouldn't trust is-" Roman stopped, thinking. "Remus."

Virgil raised his eyebrows. "Let's go in and get that idiot out of here then."

Roman pulled open the door, shouting, "I swear to god, Remus, if you're in here without permission I'm gonna fight you and win!"

A loud, annoying cackle came from the corner near a large claw machine.

Shattered glass and broken wires littered the entrance. The shards crunched under their shoes as they entered.

“I’m gonna kill him- REMUS!”

Virgil pulled his hood up, splitting up from Roman as he walked the opposite way. He wandered through the rows of broken arcade cabinets, noticing only one machine still working: The Project Diva Future Tone machine. He silently celebrated, opting to sit by it and watch the loading screen. He got bored within a few seconds and headed to the back wall to view the claw machines.

Most of them looked intact enough to use, he decided.

There were only a couple of them, most filled with random plushies, though one caught his eye. It was full of plushies of the sides themselves, even including Janus and Remus. He raised an eyebrow, heading toward it. This one was left untouched, the glass shiny a fingerprint-less.

“Weird.” He summoned a quarter, slotting it into the machine. The timer lit up, signaling the start. He played that machine for a while, trying to grab the biggest plushie (which happened to be a Roman plushie, though that didn’t surprise him much). He could hear the twins bickering behind him, but he kept feeding quarters into the machine as he kept going.

$6.25 later, he managed to get a good grab with the claw, picking up plushie Roman by the torso. The claw dropped the plush into the receiver tunnel. Virgil reached down as pulled the plushie up, admiring the seam work and the little details on the outfit. He hugged it to his chest, turned around, and went to find Roman.

By the sound of the shouting match and the evil cackling from Remus, he assumed they were by the prize counter.

“I banned you last week, you trashy fiend!”

“I do what I want to, Pissy!” Remus tossed his morningstar into the air. It got stuck in the ceiling, sending debris into the atmosphere.

Roman held back an annoyed scream. “Please just leave. Virgil and I-“

“Virgey’s here too?!” Remus’ smiled widened. “Oh this gonna be so much more fun!”

Oh shit. Virgil hopped up onto the top of a machine, deciding to stay up there for a while. He observed the twins quietly from his perch, sitting cross-legged on the metal platform. He cradled the plush in his arms.

“You go near him and I’ll kick your butt.”

Remus faked a hurt look. “Do you promise?”

“Shut up, you clown!”

“Awh, thanks!” Remus checked his watch, and by watch that meant the badly outlined sharpie watch he had drawn on himself out of pure boredom earlier. “Mm, actually I have to go and bother Jan-Jan!” He dropped a bomb into the middle of the floor, sinking out. “BYEEEEE!”

And The Duke was gone, the only evidence he was there being the unarmed bomb and the wreckage of the arcade.

Roman groaned, pulling the morningstar out of the ceiling. “Virgil, dear, you can come out now!” He wiped the debris out of his eyes as he made the weapon disappear.

Virgil stayed put up on his arcade pedestal, playing on his phone. It had just so happened that he was texting Patton at the time.

Popstar

V: I'm bored

Popstar: hi bored, I'm dad! 😃

V: nice

Popstar: I thought you and Roman were doing something?

V: busy yelling at Remus

Popstar: I told those two to stop fighting :(

Popstar: Oh! Before I forget, I wanted to try out this brownie recipe later!

V: ill help later ig if roman ever decides to let me go back to my house

V: oh shit gtg see ya later

"Are you okay up there?" Roman peered up at him from the floor. "How did you even get that high?"

"Fight or flight reflexes." Virgil shrugged, petting the top of his plushie's head.

Roman noticed the plush, and his face turned a bright red. "Say, where did you get that, Scaramore?"

"Claw machine in the corner." The emo gestured to the corner, where the large metal box stood. "It was the biggest one in there. Spent a fuckton of money on it."

"Oh! I can help with that!" Roman summoned a 10 dollar bill. "Here!"

Virgil leaned down to grab it from him, not realizing how close he really was to the edge of his little platform. "oH SHI-"

And he fell right off the console.

He shrieked as he toppled towards the ground. Luckily for him (and his bones), Roman was standing right under him and caught him almost right away. The prince side stumbled back a little at the sudden weight change, carrying the purple-clad side bridal style.

"Woah there, Hot Topic! You almost just took a tumble!"

Virgil let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "I'm clumsy as fuck, dude."

"Oh, that's okay!" Roman kissed Virgil on the forehead and handed him the money the emo nearly died to get. "I love you anyway."

"I uh... Appreciate the catch. Thanks I guess." Virgil's eyeshadow turned a deep purple. He noticed his plushie was missing. "Hey, where'd your plushie doppelganger go?"

Roman looked around, noticing the plushie by his feet. "Oh! Your plush companion is down here!"

"Oh, cool. Can you put me down?"

"No."

Virgil glared up at him. "Really? Are you, the mighty prince Roman, getting jealous over a plushie?"

"No!" The prince avoided Virgil's gaze.

"Liar." He smirked up at Roman. "You just want my attention, don't you?"

Roman scoffed. "Not true!" he paused for a moment. "..okay maybe."

"You're such a suck up, Princey." Virgil kissed him on the cheek.

"I know that!"

"Stop lying to yourself, you're going to summon Janus on accident. " Virgil watched as Roman faked a look of betrayal. "Actually though can you put me down-"

"Oh! Yes, I can." Roman gently set Virgil down onto his feet. "There you go, Gerard Gay."

"Awesome." Virgil picked up his plush, gesturing for the real Roman to follow him. "Here, let's go back to that claw machine. If you're gonna get that jealous over a plushie, I'll just go win you one."

Roman followed behind him. "I'm going to win this plushie all by myself!" he decided, putting his hands on his hips.

"You do you, hon." Virgil slotted the bill into the machine, the play token amount on the little LED screen lighting up. "I want to see if I can get another plushie, actually. Specifically Janus' because I want to dropkick it down a flight of stairs."

Roman held back a snicker at that statement. "I'll go after you, then."

It only took two turns this time for Virgil to be able to grab a small Janus plushie. He took it out of the prize receiver, holding it by the end of the cape. "It's cuter than our Janus."

Roman fully laughed at that one. "Don't let him hear you say that!"

"Or else what? He's gonna self care me to death?" Virgil rolled his eyes playfully and set Plush Janus next to Plush Roman. "Your turn, Princey."

Roman rolled up his sleeves, striding over to the claw machine. "Watch me do this in one go!" he boasted proudly, readying the console.

Quick note here, it did not take him one try.

A few minutes (and an extra 10 bucks) later, Roman held up his prize in triumph. "I did it!"

Virgil smiled at him as he looked up from his phone. "Good for you."

Roman held up Plushie Virgil next to him. "Look, now there's two emos!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "You're hilarious."

"I've been taking lessons from Patton!"

The princely side walked over to another machine: a broken Pacman machine. With a wave of his hand, the console renewed itself and was playable. He turned back to Virgil with a smirk. "Who's going first?"

Virgil smirked back and cracked his knuckles. "Oh honey, you're going down."

What the heck this took me freaking ages-

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #tss virgil #prinxietyweek2023 #tss roman #prinxiety week #sandersides #sanders sides fanfiction #prinxiety

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beetlewine-art · 1 year

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"Who's Manny?"

I just found out that "Manny" is used as a nickname for "Roman" and i decided to make a short fanfic about it because i got inspired.

Resume: Virgil has been crazy about his new boyfriend lately and has been talking non-stop about him, his two best friends, Remus and Janus, start to befome curious about this new man Virgil is dating, his name is, "Manny" or at least that's what Remus thinks since that's what Virgil calls him, to his surprise, Manny is only a loving nickname that Virgil uses to hyde the identity of his boyfriend, eventually, the true comes out and Remus is not happy about who "Manny" actually is.

Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety, mentioned romantic Demus.

Warnings: Swearing, lying, Remus being an overprotective brother and Virgil is a simp.

-----------------------------------------------

Remus is rolling his eyes, once again, Virgil started going on about his new man. Virgil has been like this since he started seen his current boyfriend, he was going on and on about how beautiful and talented he is: "Manny did this" "Manny did that" or "Manny and i went to X place last week". Remus was tired of it, it was cute at first but now it was just annoying.

He couldn't understand how Janus was SO patient with Virgil, meybe because the emo has never been so invested in a relationship before, Virgil is usually really private about his love life and never talked this munch about his dates. But this time he was head over heels and couldn't stop talking about this "Manny" guy.

Janus was starting to get really curious about him, and really suspicious about their relationship too, because as he said it: "For a man who brags so munch about his boyfriend, he is trying really hard to hyde it from us" and he wasn't wrong, Remus couldn't care less, he was tired to hear about Manny, but he admited that it was really weird how little Virgil shared about his boyfriend. Sure he talked a lot about Manny, but at the same time he didn't? Sure, he talked about how amazing he is, but he never gives any actual information about him, like how old he is or what he does for a living, what he is studying in collage, nothing.

"is kinda impresive, you know?" Remus heard Janus said "How you can talk so munch about this guy, but never tells us anything about it" Remus looked at Virgil, who now had his eyes wide open and had gone completely silent. Janus continued:

"When are we going to meet him?"

Virgil said the same reason he gave the last time they asked him that "is too soon" but Janus wasn't having it

"Come on, Virge, is been seven months since you used that scuse, you can't keep using when you two have been dating for ten months by now"

Virgil shrugged his shoulders and look away:"You can't meet him now, he is out of town".

"Oh, why? Is he gone because of work? Or collage?".

Virgil looked unsure to answer that question, but finally he said:

"He is away because he got a role in a musical, is not a big one, but he is really exited about it".

"So he is an actor"? Janus asked and

Virgil nooded, Janus wanted to know more, Remus was listening to the conversation, he wanted to see how munch information Janus could get from Virgil before the emo decided to leave. Janus asked another question:

"How old is he?"

"22"

"Is he in collage?"

"Why does that matters?" Virgil was starting to get anxious, so he grabed his drink and looked at Janus before taking a bif sip from the cup. Remus was starting to get interested in the conversation joined in:

"don't get defensive, Emo, Jani just wants to know more about your little boyfriend, is normal since you want to hyde him so badly"

"I AM NOT trying to hyde him"

"Then why don't you tell us more about him, right now the only thing we know about him is that he is an actor and is 22 years old" Remus smiles at janus and laugh.

"And that his name is Manny, don't forget his name, Jan"

Janus looked at Remus and said, with a smirk on his face.

"Oh, i don't think that's his actual name Remus, little Virge here has a bad habit of refering to his boyfriends by nicknames only" Janus looked back at Virgil, who looked like a bowl of cold water had just fall over him.

"So what's his actual name? I guess is something like Emmanuel? or Manfred?"

Virgil was now sweating and got up.

"None of those, now if you scuse me, i have to go"

"I guess his name just end with "Man"?"

"Wait a minute"

Remus looked at Virgil, something was weird, things started to connect in his head. Virgil had a 22 years old boyfriend, that was an actor and was away from town because he got a role in a musical, meanwhile, Remus just happends to have a younger brother, who is put of town, is also and actor and is the same age as Manny.

"I REALLY HAVE TO GO" Virgil grabed his things and left his part to pay for the drinks. In that moment Remus got up and started to follow Virgil.

"Virge, wait, who is Manny?"

Virgil didn't listen to him and walked faster.

"Virgil, come back"

Virgil started to run.

"VIRGILIO DON'T FUCKING RUN AWAY FROM ME, TELL ME WHO THE FUCK "MANNY" IS FOR?" Remus screamed while running behind Virgil.

Janus soon regreted his choices, payd for their drinks and run behind them while telling Remus to calm down.

Three weeks later, Roman come back to town and he was not happy when he found out about the fight his brother and boyfriend had in the middle of the street, and he was even more livid when Remus had the audacity to give him the silent treatment for dating one of his friends.

____________________________________

This is my first short fic and i'm terrible with writting in english, i am so sorry for the terror grammar. I wanted to do this as a writting practice and because i was inspired. If you want, you can't correct my writting mistakes, i am open to critics and corrections.

Tag list: @emobeanwhoneedssleep @maze-arts @roman-can-gay @dorkyduckling16 @meowthefluffy

#ts prinxiety #sanders sides #my post #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #demus #dukeceit #prinxiety fanfiction #manny is such a cute nickname for roman #my fanfiction #beetlewine #beetle fics

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tanushakyrano · 1 year

Text

febuwhump day 5: "that's gonna scar."

starring my attempt at writing a hospital environment, with my only experience with medical stuff being greys anatomy and google search results!

characters: Gordon, Virgil

additional warnings: whump. they're in a hospital too but there's nothing graphic

________________

Gordon woke up feeling like he’d just been hit by a train.

Which, unfortunately, wasn’t far from the truth. High winds plus unsecured cargo containers equalled massive metal boxes careering across the deck of a transport ship during a storm, sending him flying through the air like a ragdoll until the wall had brought his impromptu flight to an abrupt end. His arm had snapped on impact. His head had thudded onto the deck, helmet failing to prevent him from sinking into unconsciousness for several minutes. The stabbing agony piercing his skull when he’d stumbled awake had made him wish he’d stayed unconscious.

Virgil had saved the day again. Of course he had. He’d sprinted across the deck to reach him in record time, kneeling at his side and supporting him as he tried to clamber to his feet. The two of them had limped back to Two, Virgil strapping him securely into the lift before heading straight back into the fray to get the last two trapped workers out before the entire ship went down.

They’d gone to the hospital. Gordon had tried to persuade his brother that no, it was fine, he could be treated on the island because they had a perfectly well-equipped medical bay plus a fully-trained doctor and several paramedics in the family so could they not go to the hospital, pretty please? But Virgil wasn’t having any of it. Which sucked, because Gordon hated hospitals.

The doctor had told him that the break was pretty bad. There was some internal bruising too, a good few cracked ribs from the impacts, but it was the sort that could only be fixed with rest and time. His head injury wasn’t too serious - they did a CT just to make sure there was no underlying brain damage - but he still had to go into surgery so they could piece the shattered bones in his forearm back together. Gordon just about managed to count down to four from ten before the anaesthesia kicked in and the operating room blurred around him into darkness.

Which led straight back into the getting-hit-by-a-train sensation.

His eyelids had never felt so heavy. It was like they’d been superglued shut; it was all he could do to prise them open a fraction. Overwhelmingly bright light splintered through his vision, and he gave up on opening his eyes as the sun sent waves of agony pulsing through his temple. There was that familiar sensation in his throat too, the hoarseness that came with the aftermath of intubation.

“Ow,” he croaked.

“Welcome back, squid,” a voice smiled from somewhere to his right. It took him a second to place its owner.

“Hey, Virg?” Gordon said hoarsely. “You got any water?”

He heard a chuckle. “Yeah, I can get you some water.” There was a pause, shuffling sounds filling the room as his brother moved around. “How are you feeling?”

Pretty fucking awful, if he was honest. There was a throbbing ache in his arm, snaking into his fingers too, and his head still felt like a fully-grown elephant had just sat on it.

“Oh, you know, just peachy. That cargo container had nothing on me.” His voice was strained slightly, though, and he just knew Virgil would pick up on it. He always seemed to know the things Gordon refused to say out loud.

“Do you want me to ask the doctors to up your pain meds?”

“...Yeah.”

A hand on his shoulder. Gordon forced his eyes open properly. Virgil was there at his side, still in his iR blues, looking like he hadn’t slept in a while. But he was still smiling. “I pressed the call button, so the nurses should be here in a minute, and I’ve got you some water. You’re gonna have to sit up to drink it.”

Gordon nodded - immediately regretting it, because even that tiny movement was enough to send more daggers through his head - and shifted so he was more upright on the bed, Virgil slotting an extra pillow behind him to support his back and stop him straining too much. The water was difficult to swallow, but he took tiny sips, and it helped to soothe his throat a bit.

The nurse showed up a couple seconds later. “Everything alright?” he asked.

“I think most of Gordon’s meds have worn off,” Virgil informed him, “and the doctor said that Gordon could have more on request if he needed them when he woke up.” The nurse nodded. Gordon tried to ignore him as he moved around the room. The uniform was giving him the heebie-jeebies.

When he’d left again, Gordon turned back to Virgil. “How…” he tried, “how’d the surgery go?”

“Pretty good, considering how bad the break was,” Virgil replied. “They had to go in and reconstruct part of the skeletal structure.”

"I've got a bionic arm now?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Virgil chuckled lightly. "You're gonna have a scar, though. Sorry."

Gordon already had way too many of those. The hydrofoil accident had left him with a spiderweb of scars on his back, gnarled and thick where surgeons had sacrificed aesthetics for the extra few seconds they needed to save his life and his mobility. He'd gathered others, too, as part of International Rescue. They all had. Burns, operation scars, lacerations. They always served as a reminder of some of the lowest points of their lives.

Then again, they also reminded him of the good. The people who got to see another day because of the sacrifices they all made on the job. Where there was now scar tissue, there had once been an open wound. Each and every one on his body was a reminder of life, not death, and every time he looked at himself in the mirror Gordon reminded himself that his scars were not just painful reminders of what he'd been through but proof that he'd been through that and lived. That other people got to live too.

"It's cool, Virg," Gordon said. The meds were starting to kick in; he grinned goofily, tipping his head back onto the pillow. "It'll make me look badass."

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #febuwhump23 #whump #tw injury

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writerofshit · 3 years

Text

For almost 3 years the crew doesn't know when Matt's birthday is. This is solely because he never brought it up and sometimes the crew thinks he might have sprouted, fully formed, in front of a computer monitor roughly ten years ago. He didn't. He does in fact have a birthday.

When the crew finally realizes this, Trevor takes one for the team in trying to figure it out. He makes a point to bring it up all nonchalantly, 'yeah, Lindsay says you do that because you're a Virg-....Aquari-... Gemini?' complete with arched eyebrows and wide eyes.

And Matt's an observant guy, yeah, but more so when it comes to patterns in bank transactions or when the local donut shop has his favorite donuts available. People, even friends, are another story entirely. So he just shrugs. 'what does me being a Gemini have to do with liking mustard on a hot dog?'

But Trevor doesn't have an answer for that, of course, because it was bullshit to begin with. Instead he mumbles something about stars and time and relish, scurries off to tell Jeremy what he's learned. Which isn't much, sure, but at least they've got a window now.

The entire crew spends a ridiculous amount of time dropping opinions on May and June dates. 'yeah I'd hate to be born on June 2nd. Wouldn't you, Matt?' and 'May 27th is my favorite date for sure. What's yours, Matt?' and 'i've never met someone with the same birthday as me, May 23rd. Have you, Matt?'

And again, yeah, Matt's an observant guy. Most people, in fact, are probably observant enough to notice when an entire group of criminals act really fucking weird about the calendar. But again, Matt's observant about things like tiny movements on camera feeds or that there's not extra onion on this burger, actually. So he shrugs and says 'yeah I knew someone growing up who was June 6th. We used to argue about who could have a party. I always lost.' like this isn't information the entire crew has been fishing for over the last month. They probably could have asked outright and Matt wouldn't have cared.

It's honestly kind of annoying.

The week his birthday rolls around again, they go all out. Big ass fucking party, invite everyone they can think of. Every old friend not turned enemy, crews they've talked about working with but never got around to, minor celebrities they know Matt will get a kick out of toasting in his honor. It might actually be the biggest party or event or goddamn crowd Los Santos has ever seen. All there for Matt. All celebrating this guy most people have never seen.

It's a kickass time. Matt gets hoisted up and sung to, then Michael, then Fiona, then someone Matt is sure he's never met. 'It's a cover.' Jeremy drunkenly yells in his ear. 'So no one knows who's really you.' It's a sentence that's not quite right, but Matt appreciates the sentiment. It's also probably not even accurate, given that he was the first up and they've made him cut a cake on a stage, for some godforsaken reason. It's the thought that counts, though.

All in all, Matt thinks it might be the most fun he has ever had.

Two days later, on his actual birthday, it's almost the complete opposite. In terms of scale, at least. It's just the crew, up in the old penthouse Geoff swore he'd sold. He hadn't, of course. Never could bring himself to pull the trigger on it.

It's pizza and beer and donuts and cupcakes. It's Mario Kart and Ultimate Chicken Horse and a game of Monopoly that's played in teams, somehow. It's stories that reach all the way back to an alleyway, three idiots pointing guns at each other because they had no idea what they would become, what they'd join into. Jeremy says they were 'pretty sure Matt had never held a fucking gun before that' and Trevor agrees wholeheartedly.

They try to pick their favorite 'Matt's playing music over the loud speakers during a fucking bank robbery' song. It's a tie between Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go ('because i knocked out that fuckin' guard and he thought it was funny!' Michael yells. 'who the fuck thinks of that?' and Call Me Maybe ('because god forbid i take one breath before I answer him. I wasn't even in the bank, i was across the fucking street playing lookout! I only heard it through somebody's earpiece.' Alfredo says, rolling his eyes.)

When the night winds down, and it's no longer Matt's birthday but they're still pretending it is, Jack brings out an apple with a candle stuck in it and Geoff cries with laughter. 'you're getting older, Matt, you gotta eat more fruit.' she says. Matt argues that he does eat fruit, he had a lemon lime flavored cupcake at the party.

There's one whole serious moment during all of it. Things get quiet, Geoff not quite meeting anyone's eyes. 'y'know, Matt, we all make a lot of jokes. We call you an asshole, tell you we hate the plans you make. I don't know how many times I've said I regret hiring you, or any of you, really. And, uh, yeah, sometimes it's true.' It earns him a chuckle from around the room, and he clears his throat. 'but seriously, you're, uh, you're one of the best fuckin people I know. All of you are. And we're lucky to have you. We love you, man.'

Nobody cries, because this is a group of hardened criminals who rob banks and blow up buildings and kill people, sometimes, so of course they don't fucking cry. They do, however, somehow all find themselves with a serious case of the sniffles, all wipe totally non existent tears from their cheeks.

No one says anything, for a long moment, not even Matt. He should be saying thank you, or telling them how much he loves them too, or hell, even cracking a joke. He can't seem to find the words, though.

Jack holds up her beer. 'to Matt.' she says. Around the room, various drinks go up almost immediately, and there's a not even close to in sync chorus of 'to Matt.'

No, tonight is not nearly as grand or extravagant as the party two days ago. There are no expensive cars being raced, no crowds of people shouting 'Axial!', no stages or celebrities or fireworks. This is just his family, together.

It is the best birthday he's ever had.

#this fic? head canon? mini fic?#this whatever brought to you by: it being my birthday and this being all i really want.#fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

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gumnut-logic · 1 year

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It was one after the other. That was nothing new but this time Gordon called it.

Virgil was the medic in the family, but Gordon was the psychologist.

Well, not by any qualifications and he would never attempt to psychoanalyse any person not a member of their family, but he had to say that he had umpteen degrees in knowing his brothers.

And this brother needed downtime.

He could have said ‘Virgil, stop.’ But his brother was as stubborn as they come and the immediate response would have been to rebel and ‘do the right thing’ which would have involved launching into the next rescue.

So what Gordon did was much more subtle and over the top.

He had a reputation to maintain after all.

Before they could launch from the grassy mountain top in Austria, Gordon dumped all their equipment where it was supposed to go…and then he bolted.

“Gordon, what the hell?”

But he was already far enough for that baritone to fade just a little.

Before his irate brother could switch to comms, Gordon contacted Five. “Johnny, he needs a rest.”

John sighed. “Gordon, there are ways.”

“Yeah, and this one will work.”

“It’s your funeral. Redirecting to the GDF.”

“Good. Make them earn their pay.”

“Gordon…”

“Sorry, busy avoiding the bear. Speak to you soon.” He cut off his comms.

Said bear was still quite a distance away, but his glare had a long range. Not to mention his stalk. Gordon paused and looked back as Virgil strode through the knee-high grass and wildflowers.

He needed a diversion and he needed it now.

Flowers.

Gordon plopped himself on the grass, grabbed the nearest two daisies and started weaving them together.

Arty and crafty, Virg could never resist.

Gordon suddenly knew how Muhammed might feel if the mountain ever came to him.

And leant over him, frowning fit to split something.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing.”

“Taking a moment.” He threaded one daisy into the other.

Daisies were their mothers favourite flower, weren’t they? Virgil claimed that they were.

Gordon had no memory of that.

“We have another situation.” Virgil gesticulated towards his ‘bird.

“Nope. GDF is taking it.” Gordon grabbed another flower. “You need to sit down and relax, bro.”

Virgil’s lips were pressed together so hard they had lost circulation.

Time for an earnest little brother to intervene. He put everything young he had into his voice. “John agrees. I’m tired, you’re tired, sit down a moment. Hell, enjoy the Sound of Music landscape. Julie Andrews was always your fav. I’ve certainly heard you singing her stuff enough.” His lips curled. “I dare you to run across this hill top singing with your arms flung out.”

His brother’s dark eyes widened and honestly Gordon could tell he was caught between anger and the need to either rest or simply explode.

Or maybe even run across the hilltop like Julie Andrews.

Gordon could always hope for that kind of footage.

The cool breeze played with Virgil’s hair, picking at it like a bird.

Gordon kept up the ‘little brother’ expression and watched every muscle in his big bro’s body slowly relax. Remove the rescue, remove the responsibility, and he could usually peel Virgil back to the kind but tired man he was, and derail the emergency responder responding.

This was usually the point where the medic caught up with exactly what Gordon was doing and…

“You’re an ass.”

Right on time.

Gordon grinned up at his brother and wove another daisy into his garland. “Sit down, Virg. Take a load off.”

A glance back at his ‘bird, a gaze around their immediate vicinity – hmm, maybe some of that security protocol Kayo had been trying to drill into Virgil’s head was actually working – and his big brother sighed, sinking down into the grass.

Gordon was still grinning, but he let it slip into a smile and started singing quietly…”How do you solve a problem like a Virgil?”

“Shut it, Squid.”

“Aww, but you love to hear me sing.”

He got a grunt for that.

He held out his half-completed garland. “Here, use all those arty engineering skills and finish this.”

Virgil stared at him a moment longer, something unidentifiable in his eyes, before he grabbed the garland and did exactly what Gordon wanted him to do.

See, psychologist.

The next step was to wind him down just a little more and music was always the key to this brother. So, plucking another daisy, Gordon started humming ‘Wildflowers’, one of his relaxing favourites.

The arched eyebrow he got for that one was hilarious.

You belong among the wildflowers

You belong on a boat out at sea

Sail away, kill off the hours

You belong somewhere you feel free.

And yes, there was a small smile forming on his brother’s lips.

Honestly, Virgil was so easy to manipulate if you knew how.

Not like John or Scott…they were just hard work.

While weaving his own flowers and humming away, he watched Virgil slowly wilt over his own pile of flowers.

Honestly, you only had to get the man to pause on his headlong rush to save the planet and his actual condition would start to shine through.

The breeze wafted over the grass causing ripples. Snow-topped mountains, birds in the trees off in the distance, everything was just beautiful.

Virgil’s eyelids started to droop.

Gordon continued to hum and intentionally fake-ignore his brother while stringing more flowers.

Virgil’s flowers dropped onto the ground.

On the surface, it was ridiculous for International Rescue operatives to be chaining daisies in the middle of a field miles from nowhere. But the rescue had been the most recent of far too many and the fact he had managed to get his brother out here in the first place was clearly a sign that a break was needed.

Virgil was literally falling asleep where he sat.

Exactly why flying back hadn’t been a great idea.

Scott would be proud.

Here’s hoping John or Allie had that big bro in hand.

Gordon continued to hum and before long, he was joined by soft snores as his big brother drifted off to sleep sitting amongst the daisies.

Gordon resisted the urge to smile, almost broke a few muscles with the effort, in fact. Virgil just looked adorable with flowers in his lap and such peace on his face.

He needed it. Hell, Gordon needed it. But one Tracy brother at a time.

Eventually, Gordon was able to let off the humming and their soundscape was reduced to the breeze and birdsong. It was lulling and ever so peaceful.

But he continued to weave flowers together enjoying the quiet moment and the soft sound of his brother’s breathing.

Which was interrupted by a snort as Virgil toppled sideways.

Gordon moved.

Fast.

It wasn’t a conscious thought, just action. After all, it wasn’t as if Virgil was going to hurt himself falling over in the grass, but priorities…

Somehow he did manage to leap fast enough to catch Virgil before his head hit the ground. A sign of reflex if nothing else. But he ended up with his hands full of sleeping and very heavy big brother.

And grimy. Virgil definitely smelt like hard work.

Gordon wrinkled his nose and lowered him gently down to the grass. His brother immediately rolled over and flopped onto his back, and Gordon had to move quick or be squashed.

Virgil wriggled a little and went back to snoring, this time much louder than earlier.

Sitting back on his heels, Gordon did take this opportunity to smile down at his big brother. The man was a goofball of his own definition. Here he was, lying in a field, amongst giant mountains with scenery fit for a major musical, and he had dirt smudged on his nose and a caught flower in his hair.

Gordon blinked.

Flowers in his hair?

His smile grew into a grin.

Scampering quietly back to his half-finished garland and gathering up the discarded and partly squashed remains of Virgil’s, wove them together into a crown.

Reaching over ever so carefully, he placed the flowers in Virgil’s hair. His brother’s hair gel was plenty stiff and fully capable of supporting Gordon’s creation.

Leaning back he checked his composition.

Virgil kept on snoring, white petals fluttering on each exhale.

Perfect.

Phone out, photo and video taken…okay, several photos and videos from several different angles, some cropped and artistically edited, and sent to certain family members on the other side of the planet.

He flicked his phone to silent as replies came flying back.

In amongst the smart-ass comments were two lines from Scott that stuck to Gordon’s heart.

Thank you for looking after him.

Don’t forget yourself.

Gordon sat back down on the grass and stared at those words.

Perhaps he was more obvious than he thought.

But the sun was warm on his cheeks and Virgil was safe, and there were more flowers to weave together, particularly if he was going to decorate Two on the way home.

So Gordon sat chaining daisies together, in a field, on a mountain, humming to himself in his own musical.

Watching his big brother sleep.

-o-o-o-

@godsliltippy ‘s gorgeous art can be found here :D

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #FishTank #nuttyfic reblog #something cheerful #plus guess what starts today #fishtank week 2023

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marrikko33 · 3 years

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hello ! how are you ? your fanfictions are amazing!if you dont mind yuji x reader, she's his girlfriend but she never kiss him(even the first kiss) neither sleep with him,(do nothing that a young couple should do, not even the thing you know 👉👈) she only hold his hand cuz, she's afraid that sukuna will take the control of his body,"yuji i know being in relationship with me is annoying..we do nothing special not even a kiss..you're so patient thank you, i love you so much " thank you ! 🛐🇷🇺💜

sure shawty, sounds good to me, enjoy!

tsym btw 💞, (ru 💜 ? can i call you that now? >3)

genre: fluff with very very very slight angst

pairing: yuji itadori x female reader

warnings: none except for no punctuation and mentions of s3x.

it was a simple flinch, yet the action alone was enough to make you upset. knowing that itadori would be hurt because of something you intentionally did, because of a foolish fear embedded deep within you, really stung. flashing a quick smile to cover up your 'mistake', you walked off, a pile of books clutched in your hands as you felt your heart drop further.

itadori, being the innocent lil boy he was, had no idea what was causing your lack of skinship, the lack of love you showed through actions towards him. at first, it made him slightly taken aback, yet he brushed away the thought of you not liking him. 'it's just because she's shy' he confidently said to himself everytime the thought struck him. 'it'll go away, just you see'.

yet his confidence came to an abrupt halt, the minute he felt you jerk away in alarm when he patted you on the back. that day, as you walked away, arms full of books, he could almost feel sukuna's roaring laugh at the clear rejection and it certainly didn't make him feel any better.

it wasn't until he had politely, yet with a small frown, said goodbye to megumi and gojo and tiredly plopped himself in his mattress, that he realised the issue. yawning, the small mouth of sukuna appeared on his cheek, chuckling immediately as itadori groaned. "not now, later". "later? but my dear friend, you are in desperate need of help. loser, can't even figure out why your own damn girlfriend doesn't want you?". "want me? she loves me, just as i do".

"don't know about you, loser, but lovers normally touch each other, y'know? or are you that much of a virg-", "no, i'm definitely not. says the old ass beast that probably hasn't gotten his d!ck touched in decades-". "least i'm older than you, you probably have no damn experience-".

the two sat in huffy silence, sukuna yawning once again, before disappearing. "no wait, come back", tapping his cheek hard, itadori, with a grumpy expression, realised he needed sukuna. screw pride, this was you. "tell me why she doesn't touch me". "touch you? if you're talking about that small ass d!c-", "no, i'm definitely- wait, you're right, we haven't even had slept with each other once, but that isn't what i was gonna ask. why does she flinch?".

silence as thick as mochi followed, followed by a small smirk forming on the mouth resting on yuji's cheek. "me, it's because of me". "you? you're about as insignificant as gojo sensei's stinky socks when it comes to my love life", itadori laughed at sukuna's grumblings, but couldn't deny the stab he felt when he heard his words. sukuna was right. it was because of him.

itadori practically waited for the sun to rise the next day, staring at the melting pot of warm colours painting the sunrise, determined to fix whatever problem you had with him. even as he tied his laces and tried styling his hair the best he could, he only thought about how you would react to his question as to how he could solve, the problem of sukuna.

"y/n! wait up", jogging a short distance to you, he laughed at your flustered expression. "h-hey yuji, how're you?". the two of you made small talk as you began wondering why your boyfriend hadn't yet made any attempt to touch you as per usual. it wasn't as though you wanted him to, it just felt different knowing he hadn't bothered to.

"yuji-", "y-n". the two of you stopped, you giggled, letting him go first. "sorry, you go ahead", smiling encouragingly, you stared at him intently, waiting for him to say; what you knew he would say sooner or later.

"y/n, i know this has been a bit of a problem between the two of us and i know you it will take us some time to solve it, but let's not ignore it and face it head on. it's sukuna, isn't it? that's why you're afraid of touching me?". looking away, in a defeated and slightly ashamed voice, you managed to whisper a feeble, "yes".

"i should've known sooner". you continued walking with him, watching ants pass by on the smooth concrete and trying your best not to look his way.

finally, as you heard the voices of nobara and the others chatting animatedly in the distance, you did what you'd been waiting to do for what felt like months, standing on you toes and pecking itadori's flushed cheeks, before hugging him tightly around the waist and quickly moving away. "yuji i know being in relationship with me is pretty annoying ..we don't do anything special, not even stuff as simple as kissing, but i'd like to thank you for being so patient with me".

taking a breath and taking the chance to look back at his reddening face, you mustered up all the courage you had in you. "yuji itadori, i wanted to let you know i-", "love you? silly, i already knew". letting out a soft scream, you felt your small frame being picked up like a feather by his muscular arms, a huge grin on his handsome features.

"i love you too, y/n".

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

Text

Fic: Fixated

A/N: I can’t explain how I am feeling, so I am going to let fic do it instead. This is entirely written without edits, without a read through. Overworked!Scott

Edit: Okay I did a read through. Remaining mistakes are mine

-----

Virgil is the first to notice. Maybe because he’s Virgil, and possibly because he’s the only one who can call Scott his immediate older brother, so there’s something in their closeness in age, having navigated childhood together almost as equals, that sets his Scott-sense apart from that of his younger siblings.

When Scott was thirteen and Virgil was eleven, Scott was in the eighth grade and had to write a research report on the Wright Brothers, the pioneers of modern aviation. And that was all well and good, because Scott was going to start training for his pilot’s license right when he turned sixteen. The report became not just a chronicle of the historical figures’ lives, but also of flight, of the first airplane itself and the prototypes before it, of physics, and aerodynamics. He researched in a way he never had before because it was a subject he was passionate about.

He obsessed.

Like John but different.

John absorbed the search for knowledge into the fiber of his being, his fingertips always itching to take a deeper dive through archives when he heard a word he didn’t know or a concept he couldn’t explain fully. Research was as much a part of John as music was for Virgil, or swimming was for Gordon. It was a companion he could always revisit later, and so like all of them with hobbies that mattered, John knew how to catalog and save for a better time, and turn the itch aside when he needed to. He knew when to stop.

Scott didn’t. Scott defined the turn of phrase “down the rabbit hole.” Alice caught and enraptured by the not yet known or understood.

When he cared, he obsessed.

That project got finished with an A+, but resulted in anxious shaking that didn’t alleviate until a few days after the grades came back. Scott had lost weight, skipped his extra curriculars, and Virgil hadn’t seen him for two whole weeks while he worked. The younger ones likely didn’t remember.

But Virgil did. And he knew the signs. Forgetting to eat, falling asleep at his computer or on his books, waking up earlier than normal to get a head start to whatever imaginary goals he created for himself that day.

So, the day Virgil notices, it’s because Scott missed lunch. Grandma had made hot wings, which was one of his favorites, so the smell of char in the air would’ve been enough to set his stomach rumbling. With Scott absent when he definitely shouldn’t be, Virgil decides to make him a plate, six hot wings with ranch on the side, and some celery.

He finds Scott at their father’s his work desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, intently scanning the files behind the screen.

“Hey, I brought you lunch.”

No answer.

Virgil steps closer to the desk, sure that once Scott catches him in his periphery, he’d acknowledge his presence. But Scott doesn’t appear to have a periphery when he’s focused like that.

“Scott?” There’s a little room on the desk, so he nudges a few papers to the side and slides the plate down. “Scooter?” He looks tense. He can see knots forming, so he drops a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and –

“FU—”

Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, his hands fly up, catching the side of the plate which clatters, sending ranch and hot sauce all over the floor. Even MAX scurries away with a low beep at the sudden sound, and Virgil flinched in a sudden panic when the dish slipped through his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry! I just meant to help.” Virgil is already kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up what he can with his hands, knowing he needs a wet rag. Maybe a mop.

The little cup that held the ranch slid a ways. Gross.

“Ah. Thanks, Virg,” Scott says. And he means it, Virgil knows that. But he can also see the gears in Scott’s head still working, still thinking about whatever he had been focused on, not quite fully present. “Umm. Do you have this? I’m under a deadline.” He looks at his watch. “Ugh. A rough one. I’d help if I could.”

“No, I got this! Sorry, Scott.” He picks up the dirty hot wings, placing them on a plate for their compost pile. “Is there anything else I can get you instead? These were the last of them.”

But Scott doesn’t answer. He’s already back to his computer.

~*~

Gordon is next.

He may not have the same Scott-sense as Virgil, may not have picked up on it as quickly, but he and Scott both share early morning routines, meeting in the kitchen at 5:00, Scott dressed in a tank and his running shorts, Gordon in his swimsuit, a towel around his shoulders. Coffee is too heavy to start the day, but Scott usually would begin the brew for when they returned (and in case Virgil woke up) while Gordon filled their respective water bottles. Whoever finished first chose the energy boost of choice – sometimes just a snack bar, sometimes a shake. On weekends, it might be oatmeal or toast.

Out by the pool by 5:15. Stretching was important.

Scott began his run. Gordon began his laps. They went about their day. Rinse, repeat.

Occasionally a rescue might come in and affect their sleep cycle just a bit, but Scott and Gordon were both military. If they weren’t rising before the sun, it was too late and they lost half their day already.

So Gordon is next, because Scott doesn’t meet him in the kitchen. He’s not sure he knows how to make smoothies for one – hasn’t in a long time – so he proportions his ingredients for two, fills a second cup for Scott when he wakes, and sticks it in the refrigerator so it will stay cold.

He pushes himself during his exercise. He was long past chasing times, but he still raced himself. Seconds could save a life, and so he exercised for speed, for longevity sometimes. For survival.

It’s a longevity day, so he’s abandons speed for energy conservation, which makes it a long morning.

His muscles are tired and sore when he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge for a drink to boost his electrolytes. He is not in the mood for coffee today, but sees the pot is half full, so someone is up. But it’s not Scott.

Because the smoothie is still in the fridge, untouched.

He tells himself he needs to check in on Scott once he finishes his research down at the dock today. He’s been tracking a pod of dolphins near Mateo and has been needing to collect the latest data captured by his little research vessel.

He’ll catch him later. Figure out what’s going on.

~*~

Then it’s Alan.

Alan admires Scott, has been practically raised by him since Dad disappeared. Scott is everything Alan wants to be… just the John version of him. Take Scott’s courage and bravery, John’s love of space, you get Alan. Eyes on the horizon, but looking beyond it into stratosphere, exosphere, the space between stars itself.

He’s a hell of a pilot. He knows that. He wouldn’t be the pilot of Thunderbird Three otherwise. But a part of him will always seek the approval of his older siblings. He wants to make Scott proud.

Scott hasn’t had the time for him lately. He’s been working on… oh he doesn’t know. They don’t tell him. Something for Tracy Industries.

His final quarter grades have come out, and he aced all his classes. It had been a hard semester and juggling his courses between rescues had been tough. He’d needed to call on his brothers’ expertise a few times.

He knows Scott has his file somewhere in his email, but he likely hasn’t gotten to it yet because he hasn’t said anything to him. It’s been a few days. So Alan pulls up his grades on his datapad and strolls past the center of the lounge over to Scott.

The first time he says Scott’s name, he doesn’t answer.

Nor the second.

The thirdfourthfifth time, because that’s how he called for him, the name running together like that, Scott irritably gives him a low grumble of “What do you want, Alan?” He doesn’t glance up, and the smile falters from Alan’s face.

“Oh, I, uh—” This was silly. It’s not important, really. Scott will get to it eventually. “My grades came through. When you get a chance.”

He grumbles in response. “I’ll look later,” he says. “I need to…”

But he trails off, back to his computer, and Alan still doesn’t know what project stole his brother away.

~*~

John’s the last.

He’s called to check in. He’s definitely connected, but....

Scott is slumped at his desk, and John’s calls are not working.

“Scott!”

No answer. The figure at the desk doesn’t budge. So John opens a channel to the rest of his brothers, his feet already sending him toward the space elevator as he calls out. “I can’t wake Scott!”

#overworked!Scott #Gavii Scribit #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Tracy Family #thunderangst mabe #sorry if this is crap

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pirate-au · 3 years

Text

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 2)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: TW for panic attacks, brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse

Thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for editing being the best

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Virgil lowered himself to the bed, hands trembling as the weight of his decision finally dawned on him.

He pushed thoughts of Roman out of his mind for now, how the Captain had just given up his room for him, and instead turned his attention to an exhausted Patton who clearly just wanted to go home.

“They said they aren’t leaving until morning,” he said, watching as Patton lowered himself to the chair across the room. “You can probably still sneak off. I’ll be fine, I’ll… make up some excuse for why you left.” Patton looked up at Virgil as he spoke, lowering his hands from where he had been rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“What do you mean? It's much too late to be out and about, and I'd make it heck for myself getting back on the ship before they leave."

“You wouldn’t need to get back on the ship.” Virgil leaned forward, fighting the urge to fall back on the bed and close his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion weighing down on him, thick and heavy. “You’d go back home. I’d just rather I get to say goodbye than you being gone when I wake up tomorrow.”

Virgil stared at his lap, painfully aware of Patton’s eyes on him, hands clasped in his lap as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, pushing down a sob at the thought of losing Patton. The man had been there nearly as long as he could remember. To be without him would be foreign and terrifying.

“Why would I be gone in the morning?” Patton asked. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, kiddo, c’mon.”

Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He really wasn’t in the mood to be given false hope out of kindness. Patton wouldn’t rat him out, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to uproot his entire life when Virgil couldn't even repay him. “You’re not coming with me, Patton. I’m never coming back.”

“I figured you weren’t coming back, Virge,” Patton said, his concerned frown only deepening. “Do you not want me to come with you? I figured you might, I know you hate being alone around new people."

“No, I… of course I want you with me,” Virgil said. He’d always known that one day he’d have to say goodbye, and it hurt, but Patton was… really not making it easy. “Pat, I'm spending almost everything I have on this ride. I'll barely have anything when we make it to Deigh. I can't pay you anymore.”

Patton just shook his head, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t care if you pay me, Virge. It’s not about the money.”

Virgil blinked, wondering if the stress and lack of sleep was making Patton delirious. "Pat, that's… that's why you're here. You stay with me because someone pays you to, and I can't do that.”

“I stay with you because I love you,” Patton said softly. “Not because of my job. You know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, unable to look at Patton as he wrapped his arms around himself. "You don't have to do that. I've known you were paid to stay with me since I was a kid, Pat. I just… really would rather say goodbye now than never get to."

“We’re not saying goodbye. I don’t care about my job, Virgil. I care about you. I stayed with you because I loved you, not because I got paid.”

“Right,” Virgil scoffed, desperately trying to keep himself from crying. “You don’t care about getting paid. So if the king offered you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life to bring me back, you wouldn’t take it?”

“I wouldn’t take you back for all the money in the world,” Patton said firmly. Virgil knew that if he cried Patton would follow, so he had to hold it together for both of them. Patton’s voice seemed to falter for a moment, the man looking down at his hands. “You don’t know how much I wanted to get you out of there.”

Virgil sniffed, rubbing his eyes and staring down at his lap, listening to the creaking of the boat as people moved around above them.

“We used to talk about it a lot,” he mused. “When I was younger. I always asked you when we were running away, and then I... “ He trailed off, wiping his face insistently. He couldn’t cry. It was for both of them. “I grew up and I never... thought we actually would.”

“Well, we are,” Patton said. “You’re not going back. Not ever again.”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, still refusing to look up. “You… you have a life, Pat. You have responsibilities. I’m not worth leaving all that behind.”

“You’re worth the world, kiddo. You’re worth so much more than any amount of money the King could offer. I love you more than anything, you know that. I’m here to stay, just like I always have. I promise.”

“You have family—”

“You’re my family,” Patton interrupted. “You’ve been my kid since you were six, Virgil. I love you.”

Virgil swallowed, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You have pretty bad taste, Pat.”

“No, Virge,” he said. They’d had this argument more times than Virgil could count. “I don’t. I- I’m sorry. I know what they did and I’m… I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't, Patton had done everything just right. Virgil wouldn't have made it this far without him. "You did everything you could. I never… knew why you were so nice to me.”

Patton had been the first one to be kind, to not try to hurt or use him the second he met Virgil, and up until tonight, he’d been the only one.

Roman’s hadn’t tried either. He hadn’t seemed to consider it, not even once. And maybe it was stupid to trust him so easily, to jump on a ship with a man he’d only just met, he’d never get an opportunity like this ever again. It was worth the risk.

Patton sighed, shaky and small, and Virgil suspected he’d catch a glimpse of stray tears if he lifted his head. “I could have done so much more for you.”

“You did everything you could,” Virgil said again. “You made sure I wasn’t alone and that’s… that was what I needed.”

He heard Patton stand and make his way over to the bed, lowering himself beside Virgil. Shakily, he reached out, taking Virgil’s hands in his own. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? I couldn't stop it then, but I can now."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for being the reason Patton sounded so miserable. Patton never should have seen the things that happened to Virgil, he’d be so much happier if he’d left it all behind years ago.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “But you can still change your mind. I won’t be mad.”

Patton lifted a hand, cupping Virgil's cheek, his thumb brushing gentle strokes as he watched him. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere without you, kiddo.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Patton said. “You’d know if Roman was suspicious, and I spent some time talking to Logan while you two chatted. We’re just two common travelers, and we’re gonna make it to Deigh and figure it out from there. Anything you want to do, we can do it.”

Virgil laughed, wiping his eyes and dropping his head on Patton’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he agreed, closing his eyes again when Patton cradled the back of his head. “We made it out.”

“This is a whole new start,” Patton said. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Virgil’s head, holding him like he had since Virgil was a kid. “I can’t wait to adventure with you.”

The next few days at sea weren’t as peaceful as Virgil had imagined they’d be, but the excitement was something new to him and he found himself watching everything intently, awestruck.

Casting off that first morning had been hectic, Virgil woken up by booming yells and thundering footsteps above him, he and Patton clambering out of the bed they were sharing to hurry up to the deck to watch.

The crew had been scuttling around to their respective places, all smiles and jovial chatter, Virgil stepping back to watch them work.

The crew was loud and a little intense, but each one had smiled or nodded pleasantly when they passed, Virgil returning the gesture with a quiet wave. It took a bit of getting used to, and he knew Patton could tell he was caught off guard. Virgil had never been surrounded by this much kindness in his life, everyone pleasant and free.

Roman was busy directing the ship and his crew, too busy to really spend much time with his passengers those first couple days, so Virgil was careful to give him some space.

He was always polite when they did see each other, just as charming as he’d been when they’d first met, no sign of him dropping the facade for something more sinister now that Virgil was practically trapped on his ship.

It felt… genuine.

The Captain would stop what he was doing when he saw Virgil or Patton, hurrying over to say hello and check in, asking how they were faring on the voyage.

He’d get called over by a crewman eventually, bidding Virgil farewell as he rushed back to work, and Virgil would sit by the rail with Patton and watch the waves crash against the side of the ship.

Even in a new environment, Patton knew when Virgil was overwhelmed or anxious, always ushering him over to hold him at the perfect moment. Virgil still sought him out on his own when he needed the reminder of safety, but Patton always seemed to have some sixth sense that let him know when Virgil needed to be held.

He was grateful beyond words that Patton had stayed with him.

It was still taking Virgil some time to get his “sea legs” as Roman had put it, stumbling with each step when the wind would pick up, the ship rocking against the unpredictable waves.

That first morning, Logan had put down his work and made his way over to teach Patton and Virgil how to work on keeping their balance, as well as some methods to keep them from getting seasick.

Logan was… nice. Virgil was a little wary of him, and he knew Patton would keep a close eye on the first mate for a bit, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intent, intimidating as he was.

A few days into their voyage Virgil had gone exploring by himself, Patton busy with introducing himself to as much of the crew as he could.

Roman was up on the bridge, smiling as he gave orders to his crew, the wind tangled in his hair, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Virgil.

The ship had chosen that moment to tip, almost sending Virgil stumbling right into the Captain’s chest, and Roman had leaned forward and swiftly caught him around the waist.

He’d had to spin a little to keep them from falling, leaving Virgil feeling wonderfully lightheaded, and when they’d steadied themselves Roman had given him an infuriatingly pleased smile. He’d held him around the waist just long enough to wink before he let go and returned to watching the sea.

Virgil had run right back to Patton after that, face burning bright red, refusing to talk about what had gotten him so flustered.

It had only been a few days, but Virgil had never felt so content. Unfortunately, this much excitement and change was making it nearly impossible to get any sleep.

Patton was sound asleep on the other side of the bed, but Virgil was stuck staring blankly at the ceiling, plagued with thoughts of his new freedom, his future, and Roman's stupidly innocent flirting (that absolutely did not make him blush) his head running wild after the last few days of a brand new life.

There was no point in laying here all night, listening to the endless creaking of the ship. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the ocean at night.

He was careful not to wake Patton when he eventually crawled out of bed, creeping across the cabin and slipping out the door to make his way out onto the deck.

He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, holding his arms out a little to steady himself, but the night was beautiful, stars scattered across the midnight sky, the air crisp and the breeze pleasantly cold.

He almost wasn’t surprised when he found Roman leaned against the railing, facing out towards the sea with the wind in his face. Virgil froze when Roman turned around, but immediately relaxed when the Captain smiled, laughing softly at Virgil’s unsteady movements.

“Why’re you up?” he called, motioning for Virgil to make his way to the railing. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't visible under the moonlight, and he wondered if Roman would be proud of himself if he knew he was the only person to make Virgil genuinely flustered. Not that he’d mention it.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil said, finally making it to Roman’s side. “You’ve got a whole ship to run.”

With the moonlight dancing between the two of them, Virgil could swear he could count the specks in Roman’s eyes. He felt his cheeks flush and he quickly turned towards the sea, closing his eyes to the wind, the light spray of the salty water stinging pleasantly.

“The ship isn’t run solely on me,” Roman said. “I don’t get much sleep, anyways. I’ll be alright. What about you, don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Virgil's blush definitely darkened at that and he smiled at the cheesy line against his will. He could feel Roman staring, and he ducked his head to let his bangs fall into his eyes. "I think it's pretty clear I don't get much of that as it is."

Roman turned and Virgil glanced over to him, the Captain giving him a soft, almost private smile.

“As if you were on fire from within,” Roman recited, putting his chin in his hand with his elbow up on the rail. “The moon lives in the lining of your skin.”

Virgil turned to him, laughing softly when he briefly caught Roman's gaze. For once, someone staring didn't make him feel tense or exposed. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Captain. Pablo Neruda?"

Roman froze, his face going beat red, and Virgil grinned as the Captain realized he’d been found with his hand in the poet’s journal.

“You caught me,” Roman laughed, his smile guilty as he straightened up and wiped his face with his palm. “Where did you come across Neruda?”

“Relax, it sounds better coming from you, anyway.” In the face of Roman's embarrassment, Virgil found himself much less nervous to respond with a teasing smile. “My, uh…my uncle always wanted me to be well read. Ever since I was a kid.”

“And he thought Neruda was a good place to start?” Roman teased, leaning forward. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were a royal, Virgil.”

Virgil knew he was teasing, that it was just another lighthearted joke. He hadn’t meant to react with anything other than a scoff, but suddenly his throat was dry, face paling as he tore his gaze from Roman to watch the sea again.

“Oh please,” he forced out, hoping his brief panicked stumble went unnoticed. “Can you imagine that? Me? Living up in a fancy castle?”

He felt Roman staring, the silence stretching on a moment too long, and Virgil clutched at the railing with suddenly unsteady hands.

“That would be crazy, of course,” Roman said slowly. “You wouldn’t be running away on a pirate ship if you were a royal.”

Virgil laughed again and- shit, his hands were shaking now. Maybe he could blame it on being a walking anxiety attack all the time. “Of course not. I’m just teasing you, Captain. Why don’t you recite more of your poetry?” He said, his nervous laugh catching in his throat.

Roman stood up straight now, and his smile was gone when Virgil glanced over. “Surely you’re not a royal. That would be crazy. You’re not a royal, are you Virgil?”

Virgil clenched his jaw, clutching the railing and keeping his eyes on the ocean. “I’m… I’m not a royal.”

He couldn’t look up when Roman took a careful step forward, setting a hand down on Virgil’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and he just hoped Roman couldn’t tell he was shaking.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you’re not a royal, Virgil. This isn’t a joke. I can’t kidnap a member of the royal family on a whim.”

Even now, shaking on the deck of an unfamiliar ship and desperately trying to force himself to just get it together and lie before everything fell apart… he couldn’t help but feel grounded with Roman’s hand on his shoulder. “I…you’re not kidnapping me.”

“I am, Virgil,” Roman said, his frown deepening. “Unless you were specifically given permission, this is kidnapping. Did you-” he paused, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulders to run it through his hair, turning to step away. “Did you get permission? Or did you just leave everything on a whim?”

Virgil still couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, feeling a bit like he was going to be sick. His heart was racing in his ears, beating so fast and so loud he wondered if Roman could hear it too. “I didn’t… actually think I would get out of the city so quickly.”

Roman froze, barely a heartbeat of silence passing before the Captain’s voice took over the deck, no longer excited and jovial.

“So you climbed on the first ship you found?” Roman whirled back around, arms thrown out to the side. “You can’t just abandon your duties like that! You have responsibilities, don’t you? Shit! I’m so fucked if I get boarded by a Navy boat!”

Virgil shrank back when Roman raised his voice, watching as the Captain began to pace the deck, first away from Virgil and then back. He mourned the loss of Roman’s touch more than he probably had the right to.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, letting go of the railing in favor or wrapping his arms around himself. “I just...I- you were nice and you offered me a ride and I—”

“You can’t trust everyone who’s nice to you, Virgil!” Roman turned back, his face a furious mask of frustration. “You ran away! Next you’ll be telling me you were the fucking Crown Prince!”

Virgil flinched back a little too fast, his breathing picking up. He felt small and cornered, the feeling unfortunately painfully familiar.

“I- uhm…” he trailed off, warily looking up to meet Roman’s eyes, not quite sure how to answer with words. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Roman dropped his arms to his sides, staring at Virgil with eyes wide in disbelief. “No. You’re not the heir. You did not run away from the crown of your kingdom on a whim. Surely.”

Abruptly, Virgil wondered if Roman was going to hurt him. He was angry, and rightfully so, much larger, and they were all alone- up on the deck in the middle of the night.

He wondered if he could make a break for it and get to Patton before the Captain grabbed him. Probably not.

“I’d been…thinking about it for a while,” Virgil said quietly. “So it wasn’t technically on a whim.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, the air between them tense, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves below. "We're turning around. I'm taking you back. Go tell Patton, we'll be back by the end of the week."

“What?” Virgil felt everything screech to a halt, panic and dread hitting full force as Roman’s words settled and the Captain turned on his heel. He was moving to intercept his path before he could stop himself. “No! No, you can’t do that!”

Roman stopped, just for a moment to look down at him. “Yes, I can. You should get to bed now, it’s late.” He stepped around him, a hand on Virgil’s arm to get around. “Sleep well, Virgil.”

“No!” Virgil wasn't thinking anymore, acting on pure panicked instinct as he reached out to grab Roman's arm, desperate to keep him on the deck. “Please, please you can’t. You can’t take me back, I- I can’t go back. Roman, please.”

“Let go of me, Virgil.”

Virgil didn’t move, despite being acutely aware of how much bigger Roman was, and how close they were. It wasn’t pleasant anymore. “Please Roman, please. I’ll—” he hesitated for a moment, considering his desperate words. “—Roman, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Virgil,” Roman said before the words were even out of Virgil’s mouth, the Captain tensing in his hold. “You have to go back. Now let go.”

“I can’t.” Virgil couldn’t move, still clutching Roman’s arm, and he distantly realized he couldn’t catch his breath either. “I’m- I’m not going back. I’m not going back, Roman I’m… please don’t make me. I can’t- I can’t do it again.”

Roman finally turned, firmly taking Virgil by the shoulders and bending down slightly to be eye level with the smaller man. “You have a duty, Virgil. And so do I. This is bigger than you and it’s bigger than me. I know you’re scared, and it’s ok to be, but you have to go back. I know it’s hard. Believe me, I do. I understand more than you know.”

“No you don’t.” Virgil was crying now, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He twisted out of Roman’s grasp, frantically backing away. “You-you don’t, I… they’ll just hurt me again if I go back and it’ll be worse and I can’t- I’m…I can’t do it again, Roman!”

Roman let him go, quickly pulling his hands away like he’d been burnt when Virgil started to back up. There was a moment of silence, the furious waves once again the only sound on the deck, overshadowed only by Virgil’s quick, panicked breathing.

“Again?” Roman repeated, voice quiet. “What- who hurt you, Virgil?”

“Everyone!” Virgil couldn't breathe, he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back. Not after finally coming so close to getting away. “They all- they all keep…they won’t stop and I hate it! You…you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even try so I trusted you and- and now you’re taking me back.”

“You’re shaking, Virgil,” Roman said softly. He reached for him, freezing when Virgil scrambled back again. “I won’t hurt you. I… I’ll figure it out when we get there, you're not without help.”

Virgil could barely hear Roman at this point, too busy frantically trying to remember how to breathe, shaking uncontrollably as the Captain spoke.

All he knew was that Roman was still insisting on taking him back.

Because nobody cared if Virgil was hurt or used or trapped. He was the Prince. He was just property made to look pretty, wasn’t he? A pretty pawn to be placed on the throne.

He found himself glancing at the railing, the only thing separating him from the endless sea. “I’m not going back.”

“You have to go back, Virgil.” The Captain took a few steps towards Virgil, slow and steady, his hands out in front of him. “It’s the only option. You’re not safe out at sea or with me.”

Virgil took a step back as Roman approached, eyes darting between the Captain and the railing of the ship, tears now running freely as the hopelessness set in. Because no matter what he did, as long as he was alive he’d end up right back where he started. “I- I don’t care. I can’t do it again, Roman!”

And then, before any rational part of his brain beyond the panic could talk him out of it, Virgil darted forward towards the railing, eyes on the dark water below. He made it to the edge, lifted himself up and—

And then there were arms around him, grabbing Virgil by the waist just as his hands closed around the railing, hoisting him up and back away from the edge.

“No!” All he could register were hands wrapped tight around him, grabbing him, dragging him onto the ship that was taking him right back to the place he’d been trying to escape since he was a child.

He twisted and kicked and thrashed in Roman’s grasp, chest screaming in pain as he fought to catch his breath, but the Captain’s hold never loosened. Virgil’s stomach dropped when they both went crashing to the ground, the sick feeling in his stomach rising up into his throat until he felt like he was choking. Roman’s hold only tightened when they fell, Virgil’s back against his chest.

“Please,” he begged, the words falling from his lips without his permission, terrified and desperate. “Please, Roman not you too. Not…please don’t, please don’t do this—”

“Do what?” Roman asked, incredulous. “I’m trying to keep you from jumping off the ship! I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You’re making me go back.” Virgil couldn’t breathe. It felt like his lungs were being crushed every time he struggled to take a single breath. “You…you can do whatever you want to me just please. Please don’t make me go back. Please, just help me.”

Roman didn’t respond for a long moment, or maybe Virgil just couldn’t hear anything over his own panicked breathing, but after a moment the Captain’s hold loosened slowly until his arms were just loosely draped around him. Virgil didn’t have the energy to make a run for it, and he was terrified of the consequences of getting caught again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Virgil. I don’t want anything from you, I—” he paused for a moment, his breathing heavy, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not taking you back.”

Virgil still couldn’t catch his breath, lightheaded from the pain in his chest, so it took a moment for Roman’s words to register. He froze, stopping any futile struggling, eyes flying open again.

Slowly, still hesitant and cautious, he reached up with a trembling hand to clutch weakly at Roman’s wrist. “You…you’re not…really?”

He’d begged before, countless times to countless people over the years, but nobody had ever bothered to listen.

“No, I’m not.” Roman tightened his hold just a little, but it felt more like comfort than restriction. “If you’re that desperate not to go back, I’ll trust that it was that bad. I’m not taking you back.”

The flood of relief was dizzying, somehow more exhausting than the panic, and Virgil took in a desperate, shaky breath which quickly dissolved into a sob.

He twisted around, the Captain’s hold loose enough to let him turn until he could wrap his arms around Roman, holding on as tight as he could manage and dropping his forehead to the other man’s chest.

“Thank you.” Distantly, he figured he should be ashamed of how badly he was still shaking, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Roman said, hugging Virgil to his chest. “It’s just human decency. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s not,” Virgil said, voice muffled by Roman’s shirt. “No one…no one else would. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

He still couldn’t stop trembling, cold and terrified, and he no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open on his own. Roman maneuvered slowly to rest a hand on Virgil's head, carefully running fingers through his hair just like Patton always did to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

Virgil melted into the embrace, letting out another shuddering breath as his own hold on Roman began to loosen against his will. He felt himself being dragged down to sleep, exhaustion weighing over him like a blanket. He didn't mean to say anything else, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly right now. "I… I don't want to be hurt anymore."

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again,” Roman said. Virgil felt him reposition his hold to have one hand under his knees, the other against the Prince’s back. “You’re safe.”

Moving slowly, Roman stood up and took Virgil with him, holding the smaller man against his chest. The Captain’s arms around him were the last thing he registered before everything faded, and he let himself drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple

#pirate au #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #prinxiety #logicality #writing #fanfiction #thomas sanders

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korruptbrekker · 2 years

Text

A Deal Worth Making, Chapter 6: Starry Skies

[Previous] — Starry Skies — [Next] — [Masterpost] — [AO3]

Rated T — Content Warnings: General Anxiety, Foul Language, Mentions of Major Character Death (no actual major character death) — Word Count: 2,235

@analogicalweek Day 6: Dark

Suddenly, the confidence fizzled out, the words dying on his tongue. It was now or never, but what if Virgil couldn’t do it? Could he handle living a lie for the rest of his life? Could he handle being so close to Logan and unable to do a thing about it?

—

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?”

Logan didn’t say a word, only frowned at the overcast sky and pulled Virgil down the empty streets back towards the apartment.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’ then.” He huffed. Part of him wanted to take his hand back, but the feeling of Logan’s fingers between his own made his heart flutter too much to want to separate them. Instead he sped up in an attempt to keep up with Logan’s fast pace.

“Hush, Virgil, I’m thinking.”

He threw up a hand as they rounded a sharp corner. “Will I ever get to know what’s happening? You know how I deal with this shit, Logan.”

Anxiety was slowly creeping up behind the excitement, not quite there but looming in the corners of his vision, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Logan seemed to have noticed, as he stopped and took Virgil’s other hand in his own.

“I promise I’m not taking you anywhere where you could get hurt. Besides, you’ll be the one driving the car and you’ll have all the power to turn around if you so wish.”

Virgil was driving? Where the hell were they going?

“Trust me, Virge. I promise you won’t get hurt. And I have a sneaking feeling you’ll even enjoy yourself.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and Virgil shoved off the urge to kiss it away.

“Fine. But if I have a panic attack it’s your fault.” He said with much less bite than his words implied.

Logan grinned. “Splendid.”

They reached the dorm parking lot a few moments later and Virgil hopped into the drivers seat, pausing to take a few breaths. Logan placed a grounding hand on his shoulder once he got in and Virgil smiled, nodding before he turned the key and pulled out of the lot.

The ride was relatively silent as Logan gave directions, and before Virgil knew it he was on the highway heading south. His knee bounced anxiously as his fingers rolled across the wheel, nails itching to be caught between anxious teeth. His lip was acting as a poor substitute and Virgil exhaled heavily, eyes flicking over to the daemon next to him.

“I need to know, Logan. Please.”

Logan, who was staring at the setting sun outside his window, turned. “Very well. I’m sure the suspense has built up long enough and all contacted parties have completed their tasks. I’m taking you stargazing. I did mention adding a little bit of flair to this upcoming deal, thus, what a better setting than beneath the night sky?”

“Jesus, you sound like Princey when you wax poetic like that.”

Logan’s cheeks darkened as he flushed and Virgil chuckled. His heart sank as he remembered the weather. Logan was so excited, and he didn’t want to have to ruin his night, but he couldn’t just let Logan be disappointed when they got there.

“Logan, you do know that clouds don’t clear up that quickly, right?”

“I do. There are certain benefits to being a high ranking daemon.”

“You can control the weather?” Virgil asked in disbelief.

Logan laughed. A short, sharp thing that Virgil fell more in love with every time he heard it. “No, I cannot. But I have acquaintances that can. And thus, I called in a favour. The sky will be clear tonight, and I will be in their debt. A small price to pay to continue my life here with you.”

Virgil cursed him. He said shit like that and then expected Virgil not to fall in love with him? The daemon was making it impossible. Virgil’s fingers spasmed on the steering wheel. He still hadn’t told Logan.

What better time than now? Under the starry sky as they made another deal? But would that fuck up everything? What if Logan didn’t love him back? Surely, he wouldn’t. Though, after this evening, Virgil wasn’t so sure. But his actions could be entirely platonic.

God, things were just starting to go well and then this feelings shit had to come in and fuck everything up. He bit back a curse. Either way, he had until they got to whatever stargazing point Logan had in mind to work up the nerve to tell him. Or to not. Virgil still wasn’t sure which would happen.

“Turn off at the next exit.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” Virgil forced his hands to still.

Silence reigned over the car. Virgil bit his lip. Was this awkward because he thought it was awkward, or was it actually awkward? He chanced a glance over at Logan, heart skipping when he caught his eyes.

“You’re still worried.”

“What? No I’m not.” Virgil winced as his voice broke. Logan raised an eyebrow and he quickly deflated. “Yeah, I’m still worried.”

“Why.”

He didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes firmly on the road and tried to ignore the way Logan’s own gaze bored into him, no doubt searing holes into his jacket.

“Very well.” The daemon said after a long, tense silence. “Though I’d prefer no secrets by the time we make our deal.”

“Yeah, okay.” The words were out of his mouth before he could really think, and in any other situation he would wholeheartedly agree. But, thanks to Virgil’s shitty luck, this wasn’t any other situation and now he was stuck there biting his tongue and cursing whatever God he could think of that put him in this position.

Well, at least he had a deadline. Whether or not this would ruin their friendship was still to be decided, and Virgil could—and would—ruminate for the night, but at least it would all be over quickly. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pine for years, longing for something so close and yet just out of reach.

Jesus he was hanging around Roman too much.

Virgil pulled off at the exit, following Logan’s mellow voice as he gave instructions. They drove through a quaint little town before turning down one of the dirt roads that split off from the outskirts and into a long, barren stretch of land.

Well, as barren as Florida got.

It was a grassy field and Virgil hoped the rainstorm had missed this area. He did not want to sit in damp grass. That was a whole new level of hell he wasn’t yet prepared for. He parked in a small pullout and took a breath before turning off the car.

Logan put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “It’ll be alright. C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

With a nod and one last deep breath, Virgil hopped out of the car and followed Logan into the field.

Just as Logan had promised, the sky was clear. Stars hung above them both in twinkling clusters, the moon coating everything in silver. Virgil let out a small breath as he craned his head back to stare into the heavens. It had been way too long since he’d last gone stargazing, and he was glad Logan had gone out of his way to do this for Virgil, despite all the prior circumstances.

Virgil looked back at Logan, frowning when he realized something. “Hey, wait, do you have a blanket or something?”

“Huh? Oh, um.” Even in the dark Virgil could see Logan’s cheeks turn black as he flushed. “I may have forgotten that that was needed.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “So you remembered to call in a favour with a fellow daemon and set all that up and remembered to pick out a spot, but you forgot a blanket?”

Logan only offered him a small, sheepish smile.

“Idiot.” He muttered, though there was no bite in the word. “In that case, let’s just rest on the car. That’ll be more comfortable than the ground seeing as the car is actually dry.”

“Yes, lets.”

They both walked back, Virgil climbing onto the hood and resting on the front windshield. It was still uncomfortable—the metal was slippery and the wipers were digging into his lower back—but it was bearable with Logan settling in next to him. He just hoped the daemon didn’t scratch up his car with his carapace.

Another silence settled over them, but this one was comforting. Virgil just stared up at the sky, occasionally picking out constellations. Virgil liked pointing them out every now and then, but he much preferred just looking up into space. He liked the miniscule, meaningless feeling it gave him.

Logan’s fingers brushed his own and Virgil’s head shot to the side. Logan froze.

“Is this not okay? I thought it was a way to offer comfort, and I take it you might need it with what we’re about to discuss and—”

Virgil snickered, waving Logan off as he laced his fingers with Logan’s for the second time that day. The rush of adrenaline and butterflies it gave him was unreal, and Virgil wasn’t sure he’d be able to focus on the stars at all of Logan kept pulling shit like this.

He bit his lip. He should really tell Logan. Before they made the deal would be best, just in case things went sour.

He didn’t realize his grip had tightened around Logan’s hand until his friend squeezed back. Virgil looked at him, hoping Logan couldn’t see the anxiety bubbling and churning behind his eyes.

“Are you alright, Virgil?”

Virgil bit his lip. “I… I need to tell you something.” Now or never. Just get it over with, say your goodbyes, and move on with your miserable life.

Logan propped himself up on his elbow, shifting himself towards him. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“How can I help, Virgil?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes, looking away. If he couldn’t see Logan maybe it would be like he was alone and talking to himself. He pulled his hand away, fingers fisting in his hoodie.

He let out a breath, nodding to himself. “Alright, okay. This is a lot, and I’m sorry in advance, but if I don’t tell you now it’ll just fuck up everything in the future and I’d rather fuck it up now than live with the guilt of keeping this from you for the rest of however long you decide to stay.” He paused, not daring to look at Logan before squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for impact. “Logan, I love you.”

He peeked through his lashes, jaw set and ready for Logan’s immediate rejection.

Instead what he got was Logan looking at him confused. “Yes, I know this.”

Virgil’s jaw dropped. “What.”

“Yes Virgil, I know this. We wouldn’t be in a relationship if we didn’t love one another.”

“We’re WHAT?” Virgil screeched, sitting up and nearly toppling off the car in the process.

“Yes, we’re— did you not know? We just celebrated our year anniversary— how? How did you miss this?”

Virgil threw his hands in the air. “I don’t fucking know! When— when did we get together?”

Logan paused, thinking. “Well, we were talking about human relationships versus daemon ones, and then you explained your asexuality and the types of relationships you’d want to pursue. Then you gave me that library card, and we went together and based off of the information I thought it might be a date, though I wasn’t entirely sure so I asked Patton and—”

Virgil heaved a sigh of relief. Thank Hecate he didn’t just miss something entirely. And of course, as per usual, this was Patton’s fault. Well, he’d had a good run. Getting thrown in jail for manslaughter wasn’t all that bad if it meant he and Logan were officially together.

“—il? Virgil?”

Virgil turned to Logan. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Yes, I asked if you would allow me to court you.”

“Aren’t we already together though?”

“Yes, but,” Logan crossed his legs, one hand arcing through the air as he explained, “you weren’t aware of that. So, it ‘doesn’t count’ persay. And thus, I’m asking you again, officially, will you allow me to court you?”

Virgil couldn’t believe it. “Yes, of course, Hecate what the fuck is going on?”

Logan laughed. “I’ll admit, this is entirely unexpected.”

“You’re telling me.” He muttered as he climbed back onto the car. “So, now that that’s out of the way, deal?”

“Oh, yes.” Logan turned fully to Virgil, eyes tinted cerulean. “Virgil, you will continue being my guide through the human world, and in return I shall accompany you for as long as you love me. Do we have a deal?”

Logan held his hand out, as if he hadn’t just made Virgil into a gooey, blushing mess. “Motherfucker, you don’t just get to say shit like that and pretend like everything’s fine!”

“Do we have a deal?” Logan asked again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Virgil saw the way Logan’s lips ticked upwards. He tried to shove away the flock of butterflies swarming in his stomach. And thinking about the future and all the many, many, many ways this could go right, Virgil grasped the daemon’s hand in his and shook.

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#sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #demon logan sanders #analogical #analogicalweek2022 #kbwrites

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stormcrawler75 · 3 years

Text

Blood of the Sea Part One

Summary: Virgil leaves his parents behind as he sets out to the one place he remembered feeling safe at. Little does he know, there’s a study going on at that sanctuary. And he just became part of it.

Notes: . . . Hey, guys! I’m still alive and posting TS. Just taken over by the MHA bug. I’ll reblog this with my taglist once I find it, promise. This is the spiritual rewrite to A New Kind of Experiment. Not a Rewrite really but definitely influenced by it. Updates will be slow but they’ll be there. Hope you like it!

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The moon was high and full on the night that Virgil crept out of his bedroom with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his father’s car keys gripped tightly in his hand. It was a good thing that it was. It helped him walked down the hallways without tripping on anything and alerting his parents to what he was doing. It would be hard to explain what exactly he was doing at midnight with a bag full of clothes, money, and pieces of pizza stuffed into a container. It would be even harder to explain what he was doing with the keys to his father’s prized Acura.

Not that Virgil really had an explanation other than he was scared and needed to leave. He knew that after the conversation with his dad the other day that he couldn’t stay until it was time to go to College. Virgil wasn’t sure that his heart could take it.

He vividly remembered the tense, one sided conversation that had taken place just a few days earlier. Virgil had sat in the kitchen and listened with a blank stare as his father laid out exactly what would happen if he ever disrespected him again. He knew even then that he couldn’t wait the two months until College started. It was time for him to leave.

A part of Virgil thought that he might be blowing this entire thing out of proportion, but he knew that he wasn’t. His father had never made empty threats before and Virgil really doubted that he was going to start now. It was time for Virgil to leave. Unknown to his father, his college tuition was already paid for and, thanks to his Uncle Janus, he had a place to stay. He just needed a place to stay for the two weeks until his Uncle could come pick him up. Virgil couldn’t exactly bring a stolen car to his Uncle’s house. His Father would blame Uncle Janus for everything just like he always did, and Virgil would be brought right back to square one.

Virgil winced as the stairs creaked and he paused, only relaxing when he heard the sounds of his father snoring. He kept walking until he got to the front door, carefully and quietly opening it. Virgil closed the door behind him, letting out a breath that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding until just then. Hopefully things would be easy from here on out.

Virgil quietly snorted. Who the hell did he think that he was? His father? He had the blood of the sea in him, just like his Uncle, and nothing ever came easy to those with the blood of the sea.

Virgil thought back to the memory where he had learnt about the blood of the sea. His uncle Janus had taken him out for fishing when he was just a toddler and before Virgil’s parents had cut him out of their and Virgil’s, lives outside of polite Holiday phone calls. Virgil had gripped his Uncle’s best rod, Uncle Janus behind him with his hands pressed over Virgil’s and reeled in a cod. Though, Virgil thought back in amusement, it had been more of his Uncle’s catch than his. But that wasn’t what his Uncle had claimed.

“Would you look at that,” Uncle Janus had laughed, grinning down at the toddler proudly. He ruffled Virgil’s hair with one hand, holding up the cod with the other and showing it off to the family who was having a beach day. “My little nephew caught himself a cod, first try! I knew I wasn’t the only one with the blood of the sea in me, Virgil. You’ll be allowed out on the boat with me in no time, won’t he,” he asked, directing the question to Virgil’s mother who had been nursing a glass of wine.

“Oh, I think he’s a bit young for that,” she had said dismissively, offering a placid smile. She looked away from him, seemingly having given up all of her energy to care. “He doesn’t even know how to swim. And I don’t want you teaching him either,” she said firmly. “He’s not ready for that.”

Uncle Janus glanced down at Virgil and winked, like they were two men sharing a secret and not Uncle and nephew. “She doesn’t understand one bit, Virgil, my boy. She doesn’t have the blood of the sea in her. Not like you and me. Just wait until you’re older.”

“What does that mean,” Virgil asked softly, reaching up to tug at his Uncle’s sleeve. “What’s blood of the sea?”

Uncle Janus grinned, crouching down in front of him, his scar crinkling a little with the movement. “It means that we were descended from the people of Atlantis,” he stage whispered, making Virgil’s eyes go wide. He laughed and grinned. “Your father has it too but,” he rolled his eyes, “my older brother doesn’t believe in all of that.”

“The people of Atlantis drowned, Janus,” his father huffed from his place on the docks, rolling his eyes. He took a long drink of beer before calling, “You better not be filling my boy’s head with nonsense about Atlantis and mermaids.”

Virgil gasped softly, standing on his toes. “Mermaids?”

Janus smirked, calling back to his brother, “Not all of them drowned, Ajax. And they’re not all mermaids, Virgil. There are men down there too. But we share the blood of the people of Atlantis. If our ancestors didn’t leave the city in time, we’d be down there with the rest of them.”

His father sighed, waving Virgil over. “Stop listening to all of that, Virgil. Atlantis isn’t real and neither are mermaids. Come sit with me.”

“But-“

His father’s voice hardened, turning unyielding. “Now, Virgil.”

Virgil left his Uncle’s side and went to sit by his father. He smiled though when his Uncle whispered, “I’ll tell you more later.”

That was the last time that he had talked to his Uncle face to face.

Virgil didn’t believe in mermaids. He didn’t believe in any drowned city. But he did believe in good luck and knowing when it was time to leave, just like his ancestors. He wasn’t about to drown under his parents’ influence. He was the blood of the sea and it was time to swim.

Virgil opened the back door of the Acura, tossing the duffle bag into it quietly. There was two other duffle bags and a computer bag that he had snuck out there after dinner. He slipped into the front seat and winced as he slid the keys into the slot and turned on the engine. He waited for the longest moment of his life and when he didn’t see any lights turning on in the house, he slowly drove down the driveway. Within minutes, he was on the highway and driving away from his house. His former house.

Virgil let out a long breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He didn’t think that he was going to relax completely until he was far away from the city. He could drop the car off at a garage not too far out and then he’d catch the bus. It helped that Virgil knew exactly where he was going too. He might not have a plan, but he had a place to lay low until he thought of one.

He didn’t even turn on the radio, too afraid of drawing any attention to himself. Virgil was too anxious for that. He stayed on the right side of the speed limit, knowing that he was screwed if a police officer pulled him over for speeding. The ride to the garage was tense and quiet, Virgil gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He pulled into the parking lot of the garage, pulling his hood over his face to keep it hidden. Not that it really mattered. His parents would know exactly who had stolen the car. Whether they’d care to report it was another matter entirely. His mother would swoon at the very thought.

Imagine what the neighbours might say!

Virgil wasn’t sure if all of this secrecy was really necessary. Would his parents really care if he left? A major part of him thought that they were just going to wash their hands of him but a small part of him almost wished that they would care. That they’d come looking for him to bring him home. It was just a pipe dream though. Once his father found his baby at the garage, they’d pretend that he never existed.

That was for the best. Virgil wouldn’t be leaving in the dead of the night if it wasn’t. He grabbed all three of his duffle bags with one hand, wincing a little at the weight and grabbed his computer bag with the other. He locked the car doors, ducked his head to hide from any cameras, and hurried out of the parking lot. It was just a few blocks from the 24/7 bus station. He’d relax then.

Virgil moved from a trot to a run when he saw the bus at the station, calling out, “Hold the bus,” frantically. If he missed the bus now, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Luckily, the bus didn’t drive off, waiting for Virgil to awkwardly scramble onto the bus and dig out his free bus pass. He had been saving this pass for forever and it was time to use it.

There was only one other person on the bus besides the obviously sleep deprived bus driver. They looked like a drunk college student, staring out the window with half lidden eyes. At least Virgil wouldn’t have to worry about either of these two saying anything about seeing him.

Virgil settled into one of the front seats, dropping his bags into the seat next to him. He curled up in his seat, hugging his knees to his chest. No turning back now. It was either sink or swim from this point on and the blood of the sea didn’t sink.

“Last stop, Divergent Springs! Last Stop, Divergent Springs!”

Virgil jerked up, scrambling out of his seat. He had been dozing and nearly missed what the bus driver had said the first time. Virgil nodded to the bus driver and hurried off the bus, nearly tripping on his last step in his haste. He sighed in relief when the bus drove down the road and disappeared from sight. It felt like he could finally breathe now. He was safe.

He hitched his bags up on his shoulders and started walking. The sun was just rising, meaning that it was around five or six o’clock. There wasn’t anyone walking around the small town, but Virgil walked at a brisk pace, wanting to go to where he was going before anyone saw him. There was a lot of things that Virgil had to do now that he was on his own. And the first thing that he had to do was to find his family’s old beach house.

He didn’t remember it that much. The last time he had seen his Uncle face to face was the last time he had seen the old beach house. Virgil couldn’t really remember why they ever stopped going except his mother complaining about how the beach hair made her hair frizz. But Virgil had a very fuzzy memory of a fight Uncle Janus and his father had at beach house the last night they had spent there.

“I told you not to fill his head with all of that non-sense, Janus, I told you! There’s no such thing as this blood of the sea or mermaids or any of that! You’re sound like Ya-ya and that’s not a compliment!”

“What’s the harm in telling him stories, Ajax? He’s four, nearly five, he’s not going to run off to find mermaids just because I tell him a few stories! And what’s wrong with those stories? Do you think you’re better than the rest of us for not believing in this, Ajax? Why can’t he learn about his family?”

“Because none of it is true! Tell him stories about Pops being a Doctor or me starting up my own business! Tell him of Ya-Ya arriving to the country with only six dollars in her pocket! Stop telling him stories about something that never even happened! Atlantis wasn’t real, it never drowned! Our family lived in Greece before Ya-Ya moved to America! She told us stories about Atlantis because we were little kids but none of it was ever real! There’s no such thing as Blood of the sea, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“You know what it means, Ajax. You know what it means. And that’s exactly why you refuse to teach Virgil how to-“

“You’re insane! You’re fucking insane, Janus! You know what, don’t bother taking me and Virgil out fishing tomorrow, we’ll be gone by lunch tomorrow.”

Virgil shook his head and pushed the memory out of his mind. It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever the reason, Virgil hasn’t been to the beach house for over ten years at this point. The only person who ever used it was his Uncle, who was currently spending his summer in Greece with their distance family, which was why Virgil was here instead of calling his Uncle immediately to come help him. He’d rather live out of a beach house alone for two months then spend another two months with his family, tense and just waiting to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and have his father take away everything from him. Virgil was seventeen, eighteen in a few months, almost an adult. He could do this, he could do this. His Great-Grandmother was only sixteen when she came over here. If she could make a life for herself then so could Virgil.

Virgil let out a shaky breath when he saw a sign pointing in the direction of the beach, the words, “Lineage Beach,” faded a little from time. He could see the little beach house from the road and Virgil quickened his pace to get to it. The beach house looked just like it had when Virgil was a kid, Uncle Janus refusing to let it go to ruin. Virgil remembered Janus mentioning once that he came out here a lot, not just during summer. And just a few months ago, when Virgil had initially called his Uncle for help when things at home was getting more and more tense, Janus had mentioned off hand that he paid the bills for the beach house year round just in case he wanted to spend a weekend down there. Virgil wouldn’t have to worry about electricity, plumbing, or even WIFI.

It was a relief, one that almost matched the relief of Virgil realizing that he remembered the correct place where Janus kept the spare key. Right where it always was, and where Virgil remembered his father complaining about the stupid hiding spot, underneath the little sea serpent statue that Janus had brought and placed in front of the beach house. Virgil tilted it and grabbed the spare key taped on the bottom.

Hey, no one had broken in yet.

Virgil unlocked the door and walked in, sighing a little in relief. The beach house was a little smaller than he remembered, a little chilly from the heat not being on. But it made him relax. He was safe now. His father wouldn’t think to come here to look for him. Not at the place that Virgil hadn’t been to since he was a toddler. He’d think that Virgil wouldn’t even remember this place. Luckily, he was wrong.

He dropped his bags off by the door, closing it behind him. Virgil stretched and winced at the crick in his neck from sleeping on the bus. He quickly turned the heat up a little, not too much, just enough to get the chill out of the house. He grabbed his computer bag, pulling out his computer, charger, and the small jar packed to the brim with money. He had spent the last three years working at a local diner and saving his tips. He thought that he was going to be saving it for something for himself but this would have to do.

There was almost four hundred dollars packed inside of the jar and it was going to have to last him two months for food. Lucky for him, Virgil had done well enough in school to get a scholarship for the art school he had been accepted into and his Uncle had already said that he could live with him during College. He could spend this money without any worry for the future. But that was an issue for later.

Virgil plugged his computer in, put the jar on the coffee table, and collapsed onto the old, mustard colour couch. He was so exhausted that he drifted off to sleep immediately, the smell of the sea sending him off to a dreamless sleep.

“Patty, Darling, I love you. But if you don’t get back to base to rest soon then I’m going to lose it.”

Patton rolled his eyes from his station not too far out from the beach, staring out at the Human dwelling. He had binoculars pressed against his eyes and was watching the figure poking around the house closely. “Give me just a few more minutes, Remy. I want to see what’s this Human is doing.” He lowered the binoculars and breathed in deeply. The ocean air filled his lungs and so did the scent of the Human.

Whoever this Human was, they belonged to the same pod as the Human who was here regularly. Patton couldn’t see the Human that well from where he was treading water, but he was fairly sure that this was a hatchling. What was a hatchling doing out at this hour without a member of their pod? He knew that Humans let their Hatchling out of the pod earlier than Atlanteans did but really. At this hour?! Horrible.

Remy sighed from behind him, pushing himself closer and plucking the binoculars from Patton’s hand, tucking them into his front pocket carefully. He ignored the huff of his friend and poked at Patton’s tail gently. Patton was small, 3’6”, with pale skin, curly blond hair, dark blue eyes, and a yellow seahorse tail that curled at the end. “C’mon, Pat. The Humans are going to be up soon, and you’ve been studying this beach for the past ten hours.” He arched an eyebrow when Patton pouted. “Hey, you said when you were stationed at this post that you’d listened to Explorers first and foremost, remember? You promised.”

“. . . Five more minutes?”

“Sea snakes, you’re going to be the death of me,” Remus groaned, throwing his head back. He tilted back and floated on his back, flapping water at Patton lazily with his tail. He was tall, his long pink dolphin tail only adding his height. Compared to Patton, he was a giant. He had dark brown skin, dark brown eyes. with long almost black hair pulled into a ponytail. “Fine, just a few more minutes,” he grumbled.

Patton grinned at him, patting Remy’s tail gently and pulling out the pad from the bag slung around his shoulder. “Thank you, Rem.” He clicked his tongue and called out, “Nelly!” He grinned when he felt something nudge his tail, reaching down trustingly and grabbing the fin of the dolphin below him. The dolphin pulled him underneath the water and swam in the direction that Patton pointed to. They swam closer to the beach, watching the Human dwelling closely. The hatchling had gone inside of the dwelling at this point, hopefully waiting for their pod to return before venturing out again.

Patton wrote a few observations down on his pad, glancing up every so often. It wasn’t so often that a scientist got to observe a Human, let alone one with the Blood of the Sea in them. And now Patton got to observe a hatchling with the Blood of the sea in them too. And people said that this station would be boring.

#Storm Writes #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #Blood of the Sea #sanders sides

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