#Deep down it's just him now. He's rewritten every part of himself for his supposed cause

[childeaether]

venus.

cw: 18+ only, xiao/f!reader, law school au, enemies to lovers, rough sex, dumbification, degradation

wc: 2.5k

it was getting late. well, it got late about two hours ago. now midnight was approaching at an annoyingly fast rate. you were exhausted, xiao was irritable, and the report was nowhere near done. it was a miracle that no one had come by to lock up the study room for the night.

“this case doesn’t make any sense,” you griped, typing aggressively on your laptop. xiao sighed.

“you’ve said that three times in the last thirty minutes. i get it,” he said flatly. you shot him a look. your professor had to be some kind of sadist. you and xiao had hated each other since the first day of class. rarely did a lecture go by without the two of you arguing- whether it was about law or the color of the sky.

“read this,” you said, turning your laptop towards him. his eyes narrowed as he read over the report, which you’d rewritten twice now. he shook his head as he approached the end.

“your reasoning doesn’t make any sense. you’re just mentioning another case to make the holes in your argument look smaller,” he said. “and the fuck does the implied powers have to do with anything?”

you snatched your laptop back. “at least i’m putting ideas out there. you’ve been rereading it for, like, forty five minutes.”

he rolled his eyes. “right. why analyze the case to further understand it when you could just spew bullshit and pray something is right?”

you groaned in frustration. “this case is at least a century old. you’re not supposed to ‘further understand it.’ the whole point of the assignment is torture us mentally.”

“the whole point of the assignment is to challenge us,” he shot back, “something you will have to get used to if you want a fucking law career.”

you slammed your laptop shut. “i get it, you think i’m stupid-”

“i don’t think you’re stupid, i think you’re fucking lazy.”

you snorted, but there was no humor in it. “i’m lazy, but you haven’t written shit. got it.”

he stood. “listen, i’m sorry that you weren’t paired with your little boyfriend, but-”

“my little boyfriend?” you said, incredulous. “what are you even talking about?” you got to your feet, too. the two of you were ticking time bombs, trapped in each other’s space. as always.

“that ginger you sit next to. don’t act like i’m wrong,” he snapped, “you two are so fucking obvious.”

you laughed in disbelief. “jesus christ, you are such an asshole. his name is childe. you’ve known him an entire semester-”

xiao cut you off, “you’re unbearable around him. that stupid high pitched giggle you do? it gives me a fucking headache-”

“laughing at his jokes means i’m fucking him?” you didn’t even realize that you’d raised your voice.

“you dumb yourself down for him,” xiao said. “it’s infuriating. you can have anyone you want, why do you settle for that moron?”

“i’m not settling for him,” you hissed, “i don’t even talk to him outside of class! and so what if i fucking was? god forbid someone likes me, right? just because you hate me doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.”

something in his eyes changed. you suddenly realized how close your faces were. you must’ve gotten closer as your tempers escalated.

“you are stupid,” he said, softly. before your rage took hold, he continued, “i.. don’t hate you.”

you scoffed. “yeah, right,” you said, starting to back away. his hand caught your shoulder, gentle but firm. the earth stopped turning. he’d never looked at you like this before. like you were more than a nuisance. much more.

it clicked. oh.

“what did you mean by.. what you said a second ago?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “that i.. can ‘have anyone i want?’” your heart was beating fast, and it wasn’t caused by rage, this time.

for a moment, xiao looked vulnerable. “we don’t have to talk about this,” he whispered. “i know that we argue a lot, and i know that i can be a dick, but- i don’t hate you. i don’t.”

your heart was caught in your throat. “how do you feel about me?” you breathed.

his cheeks reddened. he clearly wasn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable, especially in front of you. “it’s complicated,” he said. “it’s not necessarily how i feel about you, but how you make me feel.”

a small smile creeped onto your lips. “well.. what are you involuntarily feeling?”

your smile seemed to relax him, if only slightly. he sighed. “i’ve been asking myself the same question for months. i mean, you always annoyed me- especially in the beginning. but, as time went on, i don’t know.. i started noticing little things.

“like the look in your eye when you’re winning an argument. or the one when you’re losing. how you bite your lip when you’re focused on something..” he trailed off. he looked up, finally meeting your eyes.

“like i said, it’s complicated,” he murmured. “but whatever i was feeling was.. warm. pleasant, even if i didn’t want it to be. then, you started hanging out with that childe guy, and these feelings went from warm to… hot. like a, a burning sensation, in my chest.”

just thinking about it seemed to frustrate him. “he made you laugh. you didn’t look at him like you wanted to kill him. i mean, you liked him. and i couldn’t stand it, because-”

he cut himself off, trying to muster up the courage to say whatever was about to come next. “i couldn’t stand that you would never see me the way you saw him.” his breathing was shaky. it made your heart ache.

your faces were so close.

“it drives me insane,” he continued. “you drive me insane. and i just want to-”

you cut him off, capturing his lips in a desperate, long-awaited kiss. he jumped at first, shocked, but melted into it before too long. his hands found themselves on your hips, gripping them firmly. pulling you closer to him. you tangled your fingers in his hair, relishing in the deep groan that escapes him when you tug on the strands.

he bit your lip as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. you whined and gasped for breath. you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. his fingers dug into your waist.

“you’re not fucking childe?” he said. god, his eyes.

you shook your head.

“good.”

just like that, he was on you again. the kiss was rougher this time, hotter. teeth nipped at lips, tongues prodded at one another, hands made their way up your shirt. xiao pulled away briefly to remove it. he pushed you up against the desk as his lips chased yours once again. you had no objections, dizzy with lust.

he shoved a thigh between your legs and you moaned as he pressed it against you.

“god, look at you,” he whispered, his teeth against your neck. he moved his thigh, and you couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against it. there was an almost sinister look in his eye. it was sadistic, but adoring. your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“aw, baby,” he cooed, “i’ve hardly touched you. do you really need it that bad?” that condescending tone did something to you. a familiar fog was starting to form in your head. “i guess i should’ve seen this coming. smart girls like you love to be turned into dumb sluts in bed, right?”

a shiver ran down your spine. before you could respond, he moved his ground his thigh against you. an embarrassingly high pitched noise escaped your throat. “yeah, that’s what i thought,” xiao teased, sinking his teeth into your collarbone. your nails dug into his shoulder.

suddenly, he pulled away. you whined pitifully at the loss of contact, but the disappointment didn’t last long. your heart skipped a beat as you realized xiao had pulled away to take off his belt. that fog was getting hard to ignore.

he noticed you staring. “bend over the desk,” he commanded, “and hike up your skirt for me.”

as if your panties weren’t soaked enough before.

nervously, you bent yourself over the desk and pulled your skirt up, exposing the silk panties you had on underneath. they were genuinely comfortable. xiao picked a good day to confess.

you heard him inhale sharply behind you, taking you in. “fuck,” he whispered, running a hand up your thigh. you couldn’t help but squirm. “you’re already so wet i can see it through your panties. does it turn you on when i tell you what to do?”

two fingers traced the outline of your pussy over your panties. “or maybe it was the ‘dumb slut’ part, hmm?”

you moaned helplessly, wriggling your hips. “xiao, please,” you begged, “hurry up, i- i want it.”

“be patient,” he replied. you felt lips press against your inner thigh. your skin felt like it was on fire, his lips burning a trail everywhere they touched. you whimpered and squirmed, desperate.

“please, just- fucking get on with it,” you cried. your cunt was aching. you’d imagined xiao fucking you on shameful, lonely nights. especially on days like this, when the two of you had been at each other’s throats. and now it was here. real.

“god, please-”

“shut the fuck up, slut, or i’ll rip these panties off and gag you with them,” he growled. the fog won. you felt yourself melt into the desk, into submission. your hips stilled, and you bit your lip to keep from whining. every second that passed felt like a lifetime.

finally, he pulled your panties down, exposing your dripping sex. you gasped at the sensation of cold air against you. it only made you feel hotter.

he ran his middle and index finger up and down your folds, maddeningly slow. god, it was hard to keep quiet. you could hardly think about anything but xiao, xiao’s fingers, xiao’s dick.

you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning out loud when his fingers began to circle your clit. they were slow and gentle; you needed them to be more.

“you’re so beautiful,” xiao whispered. you hung on to his every word. “i want to take my time with you, and i promise i will, later.. but right now, i can’t help myself.” he took your wrists into one hand, holding them behind your back. he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued, “i’m going to fuck you senseless.”

you cried out as he plunged two fingers inside you, thrusting in and out roughly. it was a relief, but it wasn’t enough. you tried to grind your hips onto his fingers to no avail. “and you’re going to take what i give you, aren’t you, baby?” he said, kissing a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“because you’re my good, stupid slut.” he added a third finger and curled them inside you, finally hitting the sweet spot he’d been searching for. you let out a low moan at the sensation. “you think you’re so smart, but look at you. trying to fuck yourself on my fingers. if i’d known this is all it takes to shut you up, i would’ve done this a long time ago.”

you mumbled out a pathetic, incoherent moan. you couldn’t even argue with him, you were so desperate.

“it’s okay, pretty girl,” he whispered. “i’ve got you. i’ll give you what you want. you just have to ask.”

you knew what that meant. “please,” you begged, “please- fuck me, xiao! i want it so bad, i’m so..” you trailed off, trying to hang on to your train of thought as he twisted his fingers inside you. your sentence became a string of incoherent please’s.

luckily for you, xiao was nearing the limit of his control. “good girl,” he said. you heard shuffling behind you as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock pressing against the entrance to your cunt. his grip on your wrists tightened. “take a deep breath, baby.”

he thrust his hips forward and finally, he was inside you. it stung at first, but you adjusted quickly. when he felt you relax, he pulled your wrists toward him, using them as leverage to better fuck into you.

“oh, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you moaned, relishing in the feeling of him brushing against your g-spot. every thrust had you seeing stars.

“fuck, you feel so good,” xiao hissed, picking up the pace. he pressed kisses down your spine. “so pretty, such a good girl. you like being fucked rough like this, baby? is this what you needed?”

you let out another string of whimpers, nodding desperately. “it’s so good,” you slurred, “i’m close.”

he released your wrists to grab your forearm, pulling you up, against his chest. this angle was somehow better than the last, directly targeting that sweet spot he’d only been brushing before. “oh, yes! right there!” you cried.

xiao let out a growl, fucking you harder than before. “that’s right, you stupid slut. fucking take it,” he snarled, biting into your neck. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded feverishly, no longer bothering to quiet the little noises he forced out of you with each thrust. “yes, god, please,” you begged, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

he suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your back, thrusting inside you again without missing a beat. you grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to stay grounded. “tell me what you are,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

your cheeks were burning. you knew what he meant. in any other circumstance, you would’ve fought him on it, or at least tried to. but you’d never had dick this good in your life. you weren’t about to disobey him.

a thumb hovered above your clit. “tell me what you are,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering. you couldn’t resist him if you tried.

“i’m a dumb slut!” you cried, tears running freely now. he brought his thumb down, rubbing in time with his quick, rough thrusts. your eyes rolled back as you came, cunt clenching down desperately, legs shaking around his waist.

xiao was quick to follow, cumming inside you with a low, gravelly groan as he pulled your hips against him. you whined at the feeling.

as he came down, he pressed his lips to yours again, much gentler than he had earlier. you kissed him back, slowly gathering your bearings.

when you pull away, he peppers your cheeks with light kisses. “you were so good,” he whispered, “so good for me.” you hummed happily, capturing his lips once more.

he pulled out of you, much to your dismay. before you could demand another round, you were hit with a sudden realization. “oh, fuck,” you said, frantically pulling your shirt over your head.

his eyes widened and he put a hand on your arm. “what is it? what’s wrong?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. it was a cute look on him.

“the fucking case report,” you grumbled.

he grinned and gently tugged you back to his chest. “don’t worry. i can fix your half in, like, thirty minutes.”

you shot him an annoyed but amused look. “you’re an asshole,” you said. he pressed a kiss to your nose.

“you love it,” he replied.

and you did.

#i am not entirely happy w this but #i have been starving yall and im sorry for that #not beta read at all #my bad #xiao x reader #xiao x female reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #xiao smut

[angelshimaa-archive]

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟗 𝐩.𝐦 — 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

pairing :: hitoshi shinso x gn!reader

warnings :: none !

genre :: fluff

a/n :: rewritten because i really liked this ! the song can be any song you choose <3

masterlist. navigation.

a soft drop of a beat cut into the silence that filled the living room, one that he’d recognise from anywhere. he knew the song that had started playing like the back of his hand— like the person he’d linked the song to.

shinso’s eyes flew open, greeted by the presence he knew he’d be met with. familiar eyes looked down at him, brightness from your phone lighting up your face in a way that highlighted the grin curving your lips.

“c’mon.”

your words were coated in hushed enthusiasm as you held out your hand, the other placing the phone down beside him.

slowly, shinso dropped his hand in yours, yet making no effort to rise from the couch. a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as equally lazy eyes continued to look up at you expectantly.

“really?” all your body strength was used tugging at his arm and trying to force his body up. “we love this song, hitoshi.” you huffed. finally, he got up with a sigh, his figure reminding you of his tall height.

“there. happy?”

“very.” your hands guided his towards your waist where they rested so gently his fingers lightly touched the skin over your clothing. letting go, your own hands were placed on his broad shoulders.

“now, follow my lead.”

“isn’t the taller one supposed to lead?” he failed to conceal a small chuckle. a small part of you was so glad you could still see him laugh lightly in the dark, the only helpful light coming from the bright night outside.

you gasped, pretending to be offended. “shut up and sway.”

your movements weren’t perfect at all; they were slightly off-beat and at a slow, steady pace, but neither of you minded at all. you couldn’t be bothered to care, not with something more important to focus on in front of you.

shinso himself seemed lost in his own world; his eyes barely blinked, never looking away from your face. he probably didn’t realise how deeply he was staring, deep voice humming along to the song softly.

“you okay, ‘toshi?”

the nickname brought him back to the moment, back to you. his arms snaked around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he let out a ‘mhm’.

“i’m fine.”

your own arms hung loosely around his neck; the two of you were even closer. whatever remaining distance that lingered teased the both of you. violet irises looked so pretty when you looked into them, feeling nothing but calm and peace.

“you sure?”

shinso leaned in closer, your noses touching. slowly, like a grand reveal, his lips pulled back into a smile as his eyes tried to capture every detail of you.

“i’m perfect.” he breathed, admiring the beam you gave him afterwards.

“just perfect.”

reblogs are very much appreciated ! <3

posted: 01/01/2022

#♡— signed. #shinsou x gn!reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x gn!reader #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso fluff #shinsou fluff #shinso hitoshi fluff #hitoshi shinso fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

OK SO HERE IS SPOOKY KUROFAI MARRIAGE PORTRAIT

The splash text reads: Shed blood and tears, without forgetting them, turn them into an existence.

Here is a link to my original post if you need the full context.

But here is the thing I said that just made me want to scream here in 2021, specifically in regards to that splash text:

"Incredibly motivating. It’s like the optimistic view of how things are when things are tough. The tough times are unavoidable a lot of the time, but you can and will get through them. You just have to make the choice to pick up the pieces and use them to construct a new future - which is never easy, but it’s the only way forward. For the dads, it’s both their past and their future. Kurogane has already gone through this; his life shattered and he used the pieces to forge a new identity and found new things to live for. For Fai, this is something he still needs to work on. He’s so used to running from his tragedy that he hasn’t yet figured out who he is beyond it. The “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect. You can’t grow by pretending they didn’t happen, or by pretending you’re a different person. Once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive and can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward."

IN WHICH.

LIKE.

I have no idea how anyone even reads this liveblog armed with knowledge of what happens next because APPARENTLY I JUST SAY THINGS that are VASTLY UNJUST and now I wilt away with the memory of what I thought of Fai back then.

I don't mean to give myself any undue credit here - I predicted none of Fai’s backstory. I had something completely different in mind when writing this, entirely based around the knowledge of Fai fleeing from Ashura with no context whatsoever about who Fai really was.

When you know where Fai came from? Oh my god.

Oh my god.

The words just toss my intended meaning out the window and dance around with the actual truth right in your face. Especially the “pretending you’re a different person” bit - I could never have predicted that Fai was using his brother’s namesake both as a way to eliminate himself from the world and to devote his life towards resurrecting his brother in his place. But HOT DAMN do these words ice skate in all the correct patterns without any knowledge of what the heck they could possibly mean in the end.

Also I'm in physical pain from the phrase: “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect." I know that past!me was thinking purely about Fai running away from confrontation with Ashura and pretending that he was fine and that everything was fine and that he could stay away from it all as long as possible. Things I did not know: That Fai's memories had been deliberately changed by two separate people to control the direction of his life. "Without forgetting them" is NOT a callout for Fai - Fai had no choice in that whatsoever (but they could still be a callout for ME for forgetting any of this plotline had ever happened oh my god). Fai was only ever running from Ashura with good intentions (ie, to NOT murder someone), and there was no way he could have known that his past had been rewritten to such a massive degree that it shaped the core of his personality for his entire life. And just as the splash text implies, it's only when he gets the CORRECT memories back that he can use them to forge a healthier and more accurate life moving forward.

A call out for Fai. Imagine. Past!me has so much to answer for.

I also want to revisit the bit where I said “once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward”, because this comes off entirely flippant now that I’m looking back on it.

My expectation for Fai’s potential trauma was somehow barely a tenth of what it really was in the end. And like, the idea I was getting at? Technically correct! But also only correct on the surface level. Fai didn’t need to just “confront his problems”. He needed to be completely stripped of the version of himself he had constructed from his false memories, worn down to the very core through reliving the worst parts of his life - and then shown how he was wrong about them. He was lied to his entire life, and so the goals he based his life around were aimed toward an abstracted version of reality. He was never going to be able to resurrect his brother, but he never could have known that without knowing that Ashura and Evil Wolverine had manipulated him and his memories every step of the way.

It's only when he can decipher this for himself that he can course correct - and it was only in taking the Original Fai completely out of the equation that Our Fai could finally begin to comprehend the idea of living for himself, and others, instead for fixing a mistake he never actually made in the first place.

So, yeah. “Once he’s faced the pain (of his past) and accepted that HE’S alive (and he’s allowed to be, because he never killed his brother) he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy” IS ACTUALLY ACCIDENTALLY CORRECT IN THE END.

I also want to point out that in the initial liveblog I never really discussed how Fai’s expression was relevant to this image, because I didn’t know exactly.

He’s smiling.

It's a small, gentle smile, but CLAMP really draw attention to it with the way he's looking off centre. Kurogane looks directly at the camera, but he's off centre - Fai is in the middle of the frame and he's vaguely looking elsewhere, head tilted in the wrong direction, as if he were looking towards Kurogane but seeing something else entirely.

The image itself was part of a series of splash pages where CLAMP were depicting the current state of the relationships between all of the main cast throughout the Infinity Arc (and it was glorious) and while I absolutely caught the fact that the relationship between Fai and Kurogane was intimate but strained, I didn’t know the context of Fai’s smile. His backstory shows us that Fai smiles as a way to make other people happy, because deep down he thinks this is the only possible value he can bring them - a smile is his only way of improving the world for the people around him, and his smile is the only thing he’s worth.

Here in the image Fai is partially draped over Kurogane but his distant look shows that he isn’t fully committed to the scenario - because before Seresu he could never be. As much as he liked Kurogane and allowed himself to get close to him, it was always always with the intention of him trading his life away for his brother’s at the end of the day. This is what caused the tension between them in the first place - when Kurogane made choices in Fai’s stead to keep him alive (in Acid Tokyo), he threatened Fai’s chance to trade his life for his brother’s, and so Fai distanced himself from Kurogane. Even if they fixed what they had between them, anything he had going with Kurogane could only ever be temporary until Fai could trade places with the real Fai.

And so Fai smiles - because any happiness he can give Kurogane and the others is all he’ll ever be worth. It's a temporary happiness that was never supposed to last or even exist in the first place.

And it’s not until we get OUT of Seresu that Fai finally has the opportunity to build himself from the ground up and start living for himself. For his own happiness and those around him.

And finally commit to the idea of being able to (and being WORTHY OF) making Kurogane happy in the long term.

Which is where we then get the punching scene in Nihon. And it’s perfect.

But OH BOY did past!me say some things that sounded correct but were utterly and completely wrong at every level.

#OOF #Leave me here this is all I’m going to talk about for years #FAI DID IT YOU GUYS HE GOT THERE IN THE END #The Fai in this splash page doesn’t exist anymore #AND NOT IN THE WAY FAI EXPECTED #UGHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH #Tsubasa Catch Up Chronicle #Catch Up T141 #Fai #We could also talk about #how Fai's cape is this messy waterfall of red #and all that symbolises #because his smile only hides so much trauma #and it all comes gushing out every time he allows himself to care about another person #let alone the fact that he thought HE was responsible for like #unimaginable amounts of bloodshed #but none of that was his fault either #HOW DID ANYONE READ A SINGLE THING I EVER SAID

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Do you happen to have any fics to help restore ones love for the irondad fandom? I'm suddenly afraid of loosing interest. Perhaps I haven't read a good fic in a while.

Oh, there is so much variety in the Irondad fandom that I guess it depends on what you enjoy.  Here are a few of my favorites from across the board.  

Whump with Feelings:

Of Flying and Falling by @polaroid15

Peter hums as if in deep thought. The blood on his face is bright and unrelenting in the glow of the fire, like some permanent reminder of Tony's failures. “Did you know my parents died in a plane crash?”

Tony jolts, the response hitting him like a freight train. He rubs Peter’s arm as his throat tightens. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“They must’ve been really scared.”

“Are you scared Peter?”

---

Or, on their way home from a fancy conference on the coast of Vancouver, Tony and Peter's helicopter crashes, ending what should have been a perfect weekend filled with maple ice cream and sea water in a desperate battle for survival.

A Mermaid AU:

Petey and the Hermit by eccentric_artist_221b

Three years after losing his wife and child to a fatal car accident, Tony Stark courts his darkest thoughts at the top of an old, abandoned lighthouse. Preserved at the last second by the supposed screams of a drowning victim, Tony leaps into action. Finding an injured merboy trapped in trawler lines between the crevice of a rock, he can only assume this is part of a whiskey induced dream. As he brings the creature home to nurse its wounds, he soon discovers this is more than he signed up for when it begins to form a bond with him.

Age Regression:

close to my heart, never to part by @parkrstark

During patrol one night, Peter comes across something that leaves him and Ned dumbfounded. The next morning, Ned is dropping off a now two-year-old Peter at Tony’s. Not only does he have to figure out how to turn him back, but he must watch him. Tony wonders what he’s supposed to do with the now toddler-Peter for the next two weeks…until he slowly starts to wonder what he will do without this boy after the two weeks are over.

Amnesia Victim Peter Parker:

Do You Know Who You Are? by loubuttons 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting. I’m sure I didn’t want to forget you.”

Amnesia Victim- Tony Stark:

Identity [REDACTED] by @obsessionoftheday

Dissociative fugue is one or more episodes of amnesia in which an individual cannot recall some or all of his or her past. Either the loss of one's identity or the formation of a new identity may occur with sudden, unexpected, purposeful travel away from home.

OR

When Tony goes missing, Peter and Rhodey team up to find him.

Migraine and Injury two for one:

Keeping Company by @whumphoarder and @xxx-cat-xxx

While attempting to look after his migraine-riddled mentor, Peter manages to injure himself badly enough to need Tony’s help.

Lots of Fluff:

t-shirts by KiwisAndTea  @kiwisandtea

A collection of one-shots centered around Peter Parker's favorite shirts. They serve only two purposes:

1. to embarrass Peter

2. to make Tony Feel™ Things

Humor:

Sole Heir by GotMyInkPen  @gotmyinkpen

Tony Stark has officially decided that Peter Parker is his sole heir and will one day inherit Stark Industries. Here's how Peter prepares for that day.

Kid Peter Parker- Hydra :

darkness will be rewritten by @marveal

"Richard Parker was studying Cross-Species Genetics, but struggled with the ethics of it, because it required he use human DNA, which no ethics board would agree with. So he used his own. His work was successful based off of his own DNA, and every human has a unique DNA,” Bruce explains. “So, naturally, when HYDRA wanted his research, they knew they would never get his support, so they took the next best thing they could to his own DNA. His son."

Or, Tony finds a tortured and experimented-on Peter Parker in a HYDRA base and decides to help him because who else will?

Adoption AU:

I told you I had issues by Bergen 

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and right now, a little exasperated. Because some guy is swinging around New York, shooting webs and making trouble, Fury is breathing down his neck, and his latest intern took off with his coupon for a free coffee.

Thank god for Pepper Potts.

--

...or, a Spider-Man AU where a set of bad circumstances begin to push Peter Parker down a wrong path, and where Tony is probably not the best person to deal with it, but he does anyway.

Kid Peter Meets Tony :

i promise you, kid, you'll be home soon by bstarship

If there was one good thing to come out of Tony's ultimate death at the end of the week, it was the ability to forget for a short period of time. He spent his time surrounded by strangers who idolized him and friends who sometimes gave less of a damn. But it was a kid who grounded him—who made him wish he had more time because he reminded him that there were good things to live for. One kid did all that.

Truly, Tony didn’t know how to make sense of it. A part of him told him to be unabashedly humble. Another part said to leave the kid and drive to Miami with the top down until his eyes fell out of their sockets.

A kid who had a shopping bag tied around his wrist with the Stark Expo logo on the side. A kid who was silent for a while until he finally said, “I have to use the bathroom.”

It was just a kid. A kid.

or

Peter is eight-years-old and loves everything about Iron Man. Tony is dying and helps a lost kid find his aunt and uncle.

Sickfic:

Sick and Lost by @kittybellestark

Peter’s sick and took the wrong bus. He meant to go to New Jersey but ends up in not New Jersey and calls Tony for help. He isn't having a great time but at least he has Tony on his side.

Okay, I could go on ALL DAY so I think I’ll stop here.  If you find something you enjoy and want more things like it, let me know!

#asked and answered #marvel fic rec #awesome reads! #don't forget to kudos and comment #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #marvel #iron man #spider man #mcu #marvel fanfiction #irondad fandom

[anna-pixie]

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part three}

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hello!! i have written and rewritten this part a lot, and i still can’t decide whether i am completely happy with it, so honest feedback is encouraged!! ty all so much for your love on the last part, i hope you enjoy <3

summary: you and obi-wan head out on another mission, but something has got him in an awful mood (lmk if you guys figure out what his mood is about before the next part!!)

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader

warnings: mentions of sex

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“Y/N, when you said you were serious about your training I expected I would see you there on time each morning.” The familiar lilt of Obi-Wan’s voice jerks you up from your incredibly deep sleep. You wipe away the drool from the corner of your mouth and gaze around your room with bleary eyes. 

There’s nobody there. 

Then a knock sounds from your door and you realise that your Master is too respectful to just barge into your room without permission. 

“Come in, Master.”

You hear the hiss of your door sliding open and smile sheepishly as your favourite bearded face peers around into the unhomely expanse of your room. Unlike the Jedi Masters, padawans weren’t encouraged to decorate their rooms. That’s a privilege earnt through time and experience. You’re thankful that you went to bed wearing a large jumper last night, though as you stretch the material exposes your stomach ever so slightly. 

“I broke my datapad yesterday…” You trail off, knowing that this is the third one you’ve gone through this year, “I didn’t have anything to set an alarm on.” An innocent smile graces your lips as Obi-Wan sighs, sitting next to you on your unmade sheets as he returns it with his own wry grin. 

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Padawan?” You know your Master well enough by now to be able to tell what he is feeling by the tone of his incredibly expressive voice, and thankfully right now he doesn’t seem too annoyed by your lack of care for your datapad. However, you also know that you’re treading on very thin ice, that you’re going to have to start putting a lot more effort in unless you want him to give up on you like everyone else has. 

It’s been a few weeks since you met Ahsoka which gave you the motivation you needed to get back on track. To say it’s been a hard few weeks would be an understatement. You’re up every morning before the light, fighting and learning and meditating with Obi-Wan. The two of you spend a lot of time together alone in the mornings and evenings when most other people in the temple have already retired to bed, but a lot of your time in the day is shared by Anakin - he thinks it is a great idea to train you and Ahsoka together. 

Now that was a kick in the teeth. 

You like Ahsoka, you really do, but it’s so humiliating to be trained alongside someone so much younger than you. Especially in front of the man you’re head over heels in love with. And, as another cherry on top of the cake of your shit life, the senate has been quiet as of late, which means Padme has plenty of free time to come and oversee your training sessions. Keeping an eye on the Jedi Temple, she says, but everyone sees the smiles exchanged between her and her Jedi. It makes you feel queasy. 

How are you supposed to focus on training when your biggest distraction is hanging in front of you everyday?

You have to give it to Obi-Wan, he tries his best to steer you away from the pain caused by seeing Anakin and Padme together. He stands directly in your eyeline when he knows they are near each other, so that you can’t see anything except his smiling face. When Anakin suggests lunch with Ahsoka and Padme, Obi-Wan regretfully informs him of the non-existent prior engagements the two of you have with a sneaky smile your way. 

With all the hardship of the past few weeks, you’re happy with how close it has brought you and your Master. 

“Can we just leave it for today, Master? Please.” You flop back down onto your bed, your eyes remaining on Obi-Wan as you send him your best pleading, doe-eyed look. 

“Sadly, we’ve been called away to war so I’m afraid that isn’t an option. It seems as though this is going to be a long operation. We’re first needed in Umbara, it seems as though General Krell has been executed by the clones. After that we go straight to Mandalore.”

“The clones executed a Jedi General?” Your voice is high as you stand up, heading over to your small closet and quickly rifling through your clothes to find something that would hold up for a few days. 

“It appears that he was a Separitast sympathiser. He turned two clone units against each other, forced them to kill their own.”

Your eyes are wide as Obi-Wan continues to explain the situation awaiting the two of you on Umbara, and your heart clenches as you think about what the Clones must have been gonig through during their time there. You know attachments are forbidden as a Jedi, but you can’t help the close relationships you have formed with some of the soldiers. Captain Rex is like a brother to you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later, you’re holding onto the bar above you as your ship takes off in the direction of Umbara, Obi-Wan looking more jittery than you’ve ever seen him as he paces around next to you. 

“You okay, Master? You seem shaken up.”

“I’m fine, young one.” He dismisses you with a shake of your head, “Come with me, we may as well get some training in whilst we’re enroute.” He doesn’t say anything else, just turns away and heads out of the bridge with not so much as a glance back to make sure you’re following him.

What on Alderaan is going on with him?

His mood doesn’t let up during training, you’ve never seen him come at you so relentlessly. If it wasn’t for the fact that they knew you so well, the passing clones would probably assume that the two of you were fighting to the death in your training room. 

A cry escapes your mouth as he knocks the saber from your hand, as it clatters to the ground and rolls somewhere you don’t bother to look for, you expect him to stop. However his saber remains active, and he seems to be in a trance of sorts as he swings for you once more, only stopped from making contact with a part of your body when you swing your leg out from beneath you, causing the two of you to fall to the ground with a low grunt from him. His saber falls from his grasp in the same way yours did, and you work on figuring out how to calm him down as his body cages yours into the ground. 

The only noise in the room is the sound of you both breathing heavily, and when your eyes finally look up and meet his again you almost feel as though he has used the force to steal your breath away from you. His blue eyes capture yours, not letting up as his gaze seems to only darken the longer the two of you lay there. 

You can’t help but be reminded of a similar situation you found yourself in with Anakin a while ago, the two of you ended up tangled on the ground after a round of playful sparring. It was all heavy breathing and dark looks and you remember that all you could think was how much you had wanted him to kiss you in that moment.

So why, Maker tell, do you have the exact same feeling now? You thought that your crush on Obi-Wan had been a silly, fleeting thing back when you first began training under him. You didn’t think it would return with a vengeance, your mind silently asking him to lean down further as you struggle to pull your eyes away from his own. When you and Anakin has been in this same situation, you had hoped that he was going to kiss you, so it was humiliating when he finally tore his gaze from yours and pulled himself away from you with an awkward cough. 

You think that Obi-Wan will do the same. Of course he will, he’s the most rule abiding Jedi you’ve ever met. 

That’s why, when you feel his lips being placed softly on yours, you think you’re just hallucinating. It takes your mind a moment to catch up to what is actually occurring, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls away and then presses his lips to yours with more fervour once he realises that you aren’t going to push him away. 

The hand that almost struck you with his saber minutes before reaches up, holding onto your jaw whilst the other keeps him steady on top of you. He breathes heavily as he kisses you, your breath minging as you savour the feeling. This isn’t your first kiss, you had snuck out to the clubs of Coruscant before and kissed random boys before, but this was different. This was your first kiss since you had fallen in love with Anakin. All those nights you had spent dreaming, hoping, praying that he would be the next person you kiss. Yet here you are, your lips moving feverishly against your Master’s as you thread one of your hands into the long hair at the nape of his neck. 

You must stay like that, basking in the feeling of each other for a good few minutes before a loud bang from the corridor snaps you both out of the spell you had fallen under. Obi-Wan quickly gets up, sticking out his hand to locate his saber, unable to look you in the eye as you slowly rise from your position. Your mouth tingles and your eyes are wide as you stare at the side of Obi-Wan’s head. 

He smooths his hand over his beard and mumbles a quick, “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Padawan.” before leaving the room hastily. You flinch at the way he says the word Padawan, like he is reminding you both that what you just did was not only forbidden but also extremely morally wrong. You’ve never been one to care about such trivialities, but Obi-Wan is definitely a fair bit older than you, to say the least. 

As you catch your breath and find your lightsaber, you think to yourself that it’s good that you were interrupted, because if you weren’t then you might’ve been found by a soldier who would’ve reported what he saw back to the council. You ignore the part of you that wishes you would have continued, that thinks of how well your lips worked together and how at home you felt with his body on top of yours. And most of all, you ignore the part of you that wonders if him kissing you had anything to do with his sudden mood change since departing for the trip.

The rest of the journey is slow and quiet, you take some time to meditate and gather your thoughts, knowing you’re in no state to be dealing with anything important right now. A soldier offers you something to eat but you have to decline, with the way your stomach is turning you know you won’t be able to stomach any food. 

Obi-Wan seems to have retired to somewhere quiet on the ship, you don’t see him until you touch down on Umbara. The capital has been captured now, and that is where you will spend the night before heading to Mandalore, however you must first deal with the execution of General Krell at a nearby facility that was taken by the clones. 

You walk silently alongside your Master, an awkward tension in the air that is an extreme change from your usual playful banter and general good moods. As you approach Captain Rex and his troopers, he shoots you an inquisitive look, which you quickly brush off with a whisper that you’ll talk to him later. 

The situation is resolved quickly, you and your Master both know you can take Rex’s word for the events that transpired, and you make sure Krell’s body is properly taken care of. 

“We’ve only got one spare speeder on us, General, so Y/N will have to ride with one of the boys.” Are Captain Rex’s departing words before his gunship takes off towards the capital, leaving you, Obi-Wan and a few more troopers to travel back via speeder. 

“You can ride with me, Y/N.” A clone who is about to depart shouts over to you, though your attempt to walk in his direction is thwarted by a sudden, harsh grip on your forearm. You turn quickly, shocked to see Obi-Wan shake his head, gesturing over to his own speeder instead. 

“She’ll ride with me.” 

The trooper offers no argument, simply saluting the two of you before speeding off towards the capital with a trail of dust in his wake. 

You notice that Obi-Wan still hasn’t directly addressed you since the incident on the ship, so you stay quiet whilst climbing onto the speeder, waiting for him to say something. A squeak leaves your mouth when you’re pushed forward, Obi-Wan’s large body enveloping you from behind as he reaches past you to grab hold of the handles, and you’re off before you can even think about what is going on.

“We need to talk when we get back.”

Are the first words spoken to you, and the last, because he quickly falls silent. Though, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you when his chin rests on your shoulder, his beard scratching your cheek oh so slightly. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner in Umbara is a quick affair, you scoff down what you can, not talking as much as usual due to your preoccupied mind. Obi-Wan disappeared after you both briefed Master Windu who is still back at the temple, and you wonder if he is off meditating somewhere, trying to reconcile for the ‘mistake’ that the two of you made. 

You’ve been fighting your own inner turmoil about the situation since it happened earlier that day. Once you finish your food, you retire back to the uncomfortable bed in a tiny room at the top of the large building, assuming that Obi-Wan has decided to forgo the conversation and ignore you altogether. 

As you lie on the hard metal, your mind wanders over the past few months. You wonder how Anakin would react if he knew you and Obi-Wan had kissed. Would he be angry? Jealous? Happy? Deep down you know you would want him to be jealous, you would want him to be angry at the thought of any other man having you in the way that he wants you. 

But he doesn’t want you in that way, you remind yourself. Does Obi-Wan even want you in that way? You know he is a well revered man, and nobody can deny how good looking he is. If he really was looking for a romantic, or even just sexual, connection he could probably find that anywhere - why would he get that from plain old you?

A pang of sadness hits your gut as you think about him regretting the kiss, returning to Coruscant and finding another girl that he would rather betray the Jedi code in order to be with. And with wide eyes and a whisper of ‘oh no’, you realise that this is exactly how you felt when your feelings for Anakin started growing stronger. Just what did that kiss stir within you, surely your years old feelings for your Master haven’t suddenly resurfaced, right?

A knock on your door startles you, that deep in thought you hadn’t heard anyone approaching your rather isolated room. 

“Y/N?” It’s Obi-Wan. 

“You can come in, it’s open.

He slides the door open, his actions sheepish and small and not at all like the overly confident man he usually is. It pains you to see him like this, stumbling and second guessing everything he does. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked when you’re not on Coruscant, anything could wander in.”

“Sorry, Master.” You’ve shuffled to the edge of the bed now, Obi-Wan sitting beside you, mirroring the exact position you were in when he woke you up this morning. Before everything turned into a mess. 

“I… I’m so sorry, Padawan. I abused my position as your Master and I never should’ve even thought about doing something like that with you. Especially after you confided in me about your feelings for Anakin, I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of your vulnerability.” His voice is so shaky that you barely recognise it, and a wave of sadness hits you when you realise that he must’ve been carrying this burden of guilt around with him all day. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s fine. You didn’t force yourself on me, I was completely on board when it happened, in fact I quite enjoyed it. I know it was wrong, against the code or whatever, but I won’t tell anybody. Please don’t feel guilty.” You make sure he keeps his eyes on you, a delicate touch on his cheek to keep him faced your way. A sigh emits from his mouth and your heart swells in your chest when he leans his head into your hand, seeking your comfort. 

“I’m tired, Y/N. This war, I’m beginning to feel it’s toll.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need a break, Master, but it’s not just tiredness that is eating at you right now. I know you, there’s something else going on. You can tell me. Is it something to do with Umbara, Mandalore, anything?”

“Thank you for your concern, Padawan, I’m quite alright.”

“Don’t do that, Obi-Wan.” Your voice wavers this time, “Don’t use that title as a way to brush me off. Yes, I’m your Padawan, but I hope that by now I’m also your friend.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have friends, Y/N.”

You scoff, removing your hand from his face as you turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as he lies to you. 

“I was always jealous of him, you know.” He speaks again, after a few minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence. 

“Of who?”

“Anakin.”

You turn back, your interest peaked as he looks at you. You swallow, a blush coating your cheeks as you note that his eyes are as dark as they were before. Before he kissed you. 

“What reason could you possibly have had for being jealous of him? Oh, Maker, don’t tell me you’re in love with Senator Amidala.”

He chuckles, “No, little one, I was jealous of him because he always seemed to have your attention when he cared so little for you. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at him.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

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#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x oc #obi wan x you #obi wan x ofc #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi x oc #obi wan kenobi x ofc #star wars imagine #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n

[prxttypxrker]

secrets: rewritten [peter parker]

fandom: marvel/spider-man

pairing: peter parker x female!reader, dad!tony stark x reader

word count: 3.4k

part: one two three four

summary: y/n transferred to midtown for her junior year. after becoming fast friends with the trio, a rift forms when peter starts his stark internship for a second year. distance makes two hearts grow fonder, and with them come secrets. will anyone come clean when the class takes a trip across the ocean?

warning(s): panic attack at beginning, anxiety attack mentioned and included during school scene + after effects

disclaimer: takes place during the events of far from home but in a world where tony barely survived and deals with the after effects; dialogue that follows the movie will be word for word excluding (of course) the reader’s lines, and all action scenes for peter (and others) will be written to the best of my ability. events in europe will all be adjusted to fit the change in storyline

taglist: @hollymac79 @lost-in-translating @avengerstanforlife @ex0 @uwu-sebastianstan

FOUR

Your room was still spinning, seemingly more than it was before. No amount of the deep breaths AVA had you doing for the past hour seven minutes were helping to any extent; each time you felt like you were calming down it would hit you all over again.

Peter Parker, your crush and more importantly one of your closest friends, was the blue and red hero you would see swinging around buildings and stopping criminals on the news. The one who was known to be affiliated with Iron Man, kept a crazy guy who called himself Falcon from stealing shipments being moved from Stark Tower, and saved a group of students from falling to their deaths in Washington DC. How could someone who was the most awkward and nerdiest kid you’d ever met also be the only teenage hero you knew of that went out and risked their lives, all the while keeping their neighborhood safe. Was that why he never had time for you guys anymore? He was out stopping crimes and probably planning things with your dad? You really had to wonder if the others already knew what was going on and were just going along with the act. At the very least, Ned definitely had to. You knew enough to figure out very quickly how close he was with the light skinned brunette.

Everything was processing at a pace that was no help in digesting the information properly. Each moment the boy was late or didn’t show up to a hangout. All the times you’d stick it out longer than the other two because you figured since you didn’t know him as long you should give the benefit of the doubt. Every time it seemed like your dad had more interest in your friendship with Peter than anyone else. You’d always thought it was because he took him under his wing as an intern; just a simple work program where he showed off and had him run errands or something.

And what in the actual hell was this thing that decided to crawl all over your body the same way a snake shed its skin? It looked just like your dad’s except it was black and silver, and the cold metal did nothing but freak you out even more. Not even AVA speaking from inside of the helmet was able to deter from that fact that so much was coming down on you at once. You could hardly make out the sound of an accent fading into your room, the click of the doorknob being turned, and the sinking of the bed on the other end.

Tony couldn’t help but lock his gaze with the iron suit that was now encasing your body, shielding your face from the world. He certainly remembered making it before handing you the necklace all those months ago, but he never gave it the activation it needed to appear the way his did. That was supposed to be for when you were ready or truly needed it. Regardless of the armor, there was no doubt that you were trembling like there was no tomorrow. He wondered what brought it on, of course, but that would need to be settled afterwards.

“What’s your favorite thing about the city?”

There was new input—muddled but familiar. The heavy set breaths didn’t stop, however, and that was when he really got worried. The man had no idea how to help you if his voice wasn’t getting through to you the way it did with the less severe anxiety attacks. Both A.Is that were programmed into the house and your bedroom could sense the distress coming off of both figures, causing your own to step in and make a suggestion. The conclusion was that AVA would ask you everything instead of him, a settlement that didn’t sit well. They were simple—the type of music you listened to, the top three places you wanted to travel to, who your best friend was—things that you would always talk about on a normal day. It appeared to be working. You breathing slowed and became quieter, the shaking stopped, and your heart rate was nearly at its normal pace. As smart as machinery created by a genius tended to be, the bodiless voice asked a final question that could help both people in the room.

“May I ask what triggered the panic you were feeling, Miss?”

“Th-they, um..” You shook your head a bit, previously frantic eyes now locked on the mattress that was sunken. Who was sitting at the foot of your bed again? “They didn’t tell me. He didn’t... Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him directly, finally able to focus on the other human in the room without even glancing upwards.

There was nothing he felt he could do but contemplate as he watched you refuse to look at him. Very few times had you experienced anything like this since moving into the household, and each was less severe than this. When taking into consideration that those other moments were socially induced, he realized the only person you could have interacted with on a Saturday was himself. But what exactly did he say to you? Everything was perfectly fine out on the terrace, then once Pepper set you free you had to rush to the room after hearing the kid’s- “Okay, I got it.” Tony sighed, leaning forward in a similar fashion to your friend when they were in the office. “You more than anybody should know that people keep secrets for a reason. You didn’t know who he was outside of your classmate, and he still doesn’t know who you really are. It’s a two way street. You can’t get mad at everyone else when you’re keeping things quiet yourself.”

“Maybe not.” You shrugged lamely, finally looking up at your father. “But not inviting someone to your dad’s house and not telling your friend you’re a damn superhero are two different things.”

-

You wanted so badly to fill in the one person who knew everything about you: Michelle Jones.

She didn’t normally show if anything ever made her nervous or freak out—except maybe before a couple of Decathlon competitions out of the city. Her casual demeanor and lack of caring what others thought of her and her actions did not fail in drawing you in. Coming from a place within yourself where all you ever did was worry and hesitate to do certain things, having someone like her was such a blessing. You both clicked your first day at Midtown High, and even though it took a while for her to actually open up, neither of you regretted choosing one another as the best friend. That’s why when she picked up on the weird energy you had around Peter when you all met up that morning, she immediately had to know why.

You made the strongest effort possible to avoid talking about it because (1) you had no idea if she held any knowledge on what was bothering you, and (2) there was no way that you’d risk that coming out to more people if she didn’t. You’d lived with a hero and known about these kinds of situations long enough to know that the larger the group of keepers got, the larger the amount of those who would be put in danger. Never in your life since meeting this girl would you take that chance. In which case, any time she started tossing around the fact that you were acting a bit distant when the others weren’t around, you’d dismiss it without issue. Classes became a drag seeing as you either shared one with Peter and had to attempt at maintaining a normal conversation, or you shared a long desk with MJ and the different type of tension felt like an elephant trying to balance on a tightrope.

The biology lab came to be the only place of sanctuary; the teacher was allowed to bring in a class pet or two so long as they were small. It all sounded more elementary and junior high but you couldn’t complain when you first walked into the room and saw a turtle tank by the window. You purposely chose a seat beside the farther side of the counter because their relaxed nature just soothed you, and the internal mess of today called for it.

“Hey.”

Your head turned once the door shut again, seeing the brown skinned girl swing her desk onto the lab table beside you and take a seat. “How’d you know I was here?”

She raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back against the chair. “I don’t consider myself your best friend for nothing. You always come here when something at school is stressing you out, and I know that today, it has to do with Peter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You denied it almost instantly, regretting the quick response when you noticed the change in her expression. Being so close to such an observant person really screwed you over sometimes. That feeling only deepened when she leaned on the desk in her folded arms and narrowed her eyes, definitely scanning your face for any instability in the neutral look. You did the same, using the wall behind you as support. The unwavering stare did nothing but fail in keeping your thoughts at bay. Keeping things from MJ never sat well with you in the past, and so this whole ordeal was just driving you closer and closer to spilling everything. You could practically hear your head pounding in your ears at the simple thought of lying to her about something like this.

Were you overthinking it? Telling her didn’t mean you had to mention everything. Maybe you could just say it had to do with something that happened at home; which wasn’t a complete lie. As lacking in caring about others she made herself out to be, you knew that even if it was a small problem in her own eyes, she’d be there for you. Which in turn made you feel even worse. What if your friendship started going downhill because you chose not to share such a huge life update with her? You didn’t think you’d be able to handle that at all.

“Y/N? Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice traveled through one ear and out the other, muffled and distant despite her being right beside you; just as your father’s was just one week before. God, why was it happening again? On no account did your panic or anxiety scares have such small gaps of time in between them. The mere idea that finding out about Peter became akin to a triggering event for you was ridiculous. It was exactly like realizing your other parent was Iron Man except this one was unrelated, the same age as you doing this for who knew exactly how long, and you also happened to find him pretty damn attractive. Although little things like that shouldn’t even play a factor.

The pounding hardly quieted down as wide eyes met the concerned leer of a girl now standing directly in front of you. Your gaze flitted to the backpack set atop the bench, reminding you that it was still the middle of the day. This was just study hall—the dread of having to go on with the rest of the day weighed heavily on your chest.

A well known humming sound came from the small item hanging off your neck, followed by thin alloy spreading until it was covering your torso. Nothing could really be said in that moment as you watched Michelle take a step back in surprise, staring at what extended down to your wrists. There wasn’t too much being jumbled around your head when it came to the suit this time, and that was because you were persistent as hell until your dad agreed to tell you.

“This is bullshit and you know it.”

“Hey—I don’t care how upset you are, that language is unacceptable.”

“You say it all the time.” You grumbled at him, a defiant gaze to challenge his stern one. He wouldn’t dare repeat himself when it came to your mumbling. Though the arguments between you two were few and very far in between, that was the one thing you’d stick to doing just to get under his parental skin.

Keeping your friend’s second identity from you was already causing you to become more anxious than usual but when he didn’t seem shocked at what was covering your skin? That hit you to such a different degree. Here was a man known for his inventions and the iron technology that was used to help save the city, the country and the universe. A man who not only built dozens of models and kept them on standby, but destroyed everything except the first finalization years ago because they attracted too much danger. As far as you knew, nothing very threatening or out of the ordinary happened in his life aside from your addition to it, and it proved to be a little hectic. Things like being given a necklace that hid a whole outfit of nanotech weren’t supposed to happen. Couldn’t someone who suffered threats with levels way higher than what you dealt with understand your frustration?

“No. There will be no mumbling. The adult is talking now.” He snapped out, refusing to raise his voice but using a tone that he hardly ever needed. “I know what you deal with every day more than anybody, and being mad is fine. Let off a little steam, let yourself cool down and breathe. But don’t for a second think that gives you liberty to act out once you’re okay. I hate being the mean parent; I thrive on my kids liking me more than their mo- Pepper.”

You tried so hard to avoid his stare, and as soon as he corrected himself when it came to the joke about being more liked you maintained that eye contact. It wasn’t like nobody else in the world went through the mental struggles you had. It was pretty much common sense that the rest of the general population did. Though this wasn’t just anybody. It was someone you always wanted to meet. The one you found after already losing your mom and almost losing him before you’d even decided to fly to New York. And the one who’s dealt with more than anyone you ever knew, and still was. He could barely sit or stand up by himself sometimes, for god's sake. So you were annoyed, and felt completely lied to, and wanted to shut him out as dramatic flair for a couple of days or until your grounding was over. But thinking back to all the stories you were told throughout this punishment–not to mention what you’d witnessed all the times he thought he was alone in a room and broke down–it made sense.

“When did you make it?”

Tony stopped mid-sentence of his speech, taken aback at you wanting to have an actual talk instead of talking back. “After the first time you called me Dad. Kind of had an epiphany, of sorts—realized everyone I cared about was at risk of something. You kind of threw yourself into the mix here, so I had to keep you safe.”

You shifted so your back was against the headboard of your bed, tilting your head in question. “Don’t you think telling me would’ve made it safer?”

“Not with how much you were sniffing around my things. I did, however, place an emergency protocol. It would only appear when your life was in immediate danger but since you extended AVA into the charm, her data merged with the programming.”

“So she self activated when I had... that?”

“She self activated because you knew these things would happen and input it into her system. You’re a smart kid. Just stop doing shit you aren’t supposed to do.”

“Language, Mr. Stark.” You retaliated, smiling at the short laugh he tried to hide two seconds later.

A loud ring broke out through the enclosed space, making you jump back into reality. The seven minute warning bell for anyone who had classes on opposite ends—which you did.

Without uttering or exchanging another word towards each other, you hopped off of the counter. Michelle noticed when you lay a hand on the surface to keep your balance after what happened, and after slinging the body bag over her shoulders she took yours so you’d have no physical weight on you. All she could do was watch you thank her and start heading towards the door. She’d been present during several moments of panic or being highly anxious over one thing or another but never at school. At first she assumed the weird behavior was solely because of Peter but seeing what happened after what would barely be considered a conversation with her.. She couldn’t exactly ignore the curiosity that grew within her. It was obvious that whatever was going on, trying to figure it out on school grounds was deemed to not be the best idea. Maybe if she went to your house after.

The pair of you walked out, one arm around the waist of your companion while she had one around your shoulders. The halls were emptying by the second but those who got a kick out of waiting until literally the last minute were still lingering by the doors of their next class. There were a few stares as you made way to the other side of the building; you didn’t think anyone in your grade would ever understand how you and the wallflower of judgement came to be so close. Still, you both always carried on, especially when you became friends with the boys. Ned and Peter were a couple of nerds who drew you in immediately just because they were awkward but not afraid to be themselves. None of them were. That’s why you couldn’t really keep something like Tony Stark being your dad from them. Peter was the exception, and you felt you had good reason not to enclose that with him.

It didn’t take as long as you thought to reach English, so a good chunk of seats were still left unattended. You were still out of it just enough for the teacher to notice, however, and question the fatigued appearance. “She just has a really big headache.” MJ excused as you went to sit in the back where you usually did.

“Then she needs to see the nurse, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” If you didn’t already get in trouble for attitude and over expressing emotion you would’ve taken that opportunity to stare at the woman boredly. But you knew she was right. The nurse had experience with your—for lack of a better term—episodes in the past, and had the prescriptions that helped with the after effects. “Can MJ come with me?”

“I’m afraid not. I have something to discuss with her.”

“I was not aware of that little fact, but alright.” The girl beside you raised her eyebrows, sharing a confused look with you. “Sorry. But I am going to come over later.”

You nodded, quickly glancing around the room before sighing. Gratefully, you took your backpack from MJ and slung one side over your shoulder. You were only able to take one step back out towards the corridors before someone you quite literally couldn’t speak to or you’d combust spoke up. Your head turned as Peter stood up from his desk, making his way to the front without being told to and standing next to his friends. “I-I can take her.”

The head of the class was definitely over the whole situation, just wanting to get on with the lesson and not delay any more of the forty minutes she has planned. Without hesitation or thought to the suggestion, she waved her hand and turned back to the whiteboard behind her. After silently cursing her, and waving at the one who sat back in her seat with an expression of interest on her face, you followed the intern, dreading the thought of what the hell you might end up saying during the visit to the school nurse.

#marvel #marvel fandom #peter parker #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #x reader #reader insert #spiderman ffh #spiderman far from home #iron man x reader #iron man au #iron man #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tony stark x daughter #mcufam #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fandom #fanfic #fandom

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Two Ships Passing in the Night {8}

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Spock x fem!Reader, Bones x fem!Reader

AOS

Summary: Time for you and Leonard to face the music.

A/N: If you had any idea how many times I have rewritten this part to get somewhere I was happy with it. But now it’s here and I didn’t delete it this time. Thank you so much for your patience!!!!!

Warnings: Drugged Drinks, Make Out Session, I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2,009

Leonard woke up with a splitting headache. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers around his neck. He froze, these weren’t his covers, where the hell was he, this wasn’t his quarters. He recognized the setup of a Starfleet medbay, it wasn’t his medbay.

He sat up quickly and felt his head start to spin. “Mother fu…”

“Finish that and I will finish you.” Dr. Ambrose cut him off, walking in and glancing at his monitors. She glanced over at Leonard whose eyes were flitting nervously about the room. “She’s fine, I sent her to bed. Last thing I needed was her being moony eyed over you all night. If you have any idea how much time I spend making her get out of the Captain’s chair.”

Leonard groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “What happened?”

Ambrose chuckled, “Someone spiked your drink, you passed out. Captain and the Vulcan brought you back.”

Leonard let out a huff of air. So Spock had brought him in with you, where was he now? He tried to shake that thought from his mind. Ambrose glanced at him, he was broken from his thoughts by a dry chuckle from her.

“I will let her know you’re awake.” She said, walking into her office. Leonard could see her clicking the comms. He couldn’t hear your voice, what you said to Ambrose, who let out a laugh at something you said. His stomach twisted and he wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover or nerves, maybe a bit of both. He cursed himself for the amount of alcohol he consumed, dumb ass. His mind started creating scenarios for what was going to happen when you walked into the medbay. Maybe you’d throw him off the ship, you and Spock were getting married, you and Spock were going to single handedly repopulate New Vulcan. God, he wondered what he’d have to do to get Scotty to toss him into the warp core. His mind continued racing, then he heard soft footfalls and a golden silhouette appeared in the doorway.

Last night hadn’t been what you had expected, well, maybe with Spock, but not with Leonard. Spock had carried him back to your ship, it made sense, the Enterprise medical officer was unconscious, and you knew Ambrose was aboard, she despised shore leave. “Makes more sense for me to stay on the ship, someone always does something stupid and needs me here.” She grumbled, but you didn’t miss the novel she had tucked under her arm.

Spock placed him on a bed and Ambrose shuffled you, Spock, and Uhura away from the bed. Uhura’s eyes flicked between you and Spock, only stopping when he draped his arm over her shoulder. She gazed at you, a question very obvious in her eyes, you gave a small shake of your head. You hadn’t been close, but you respected her and you respected her relationship with Spock. If you were in her shoes, you would have been worried.

“I suppose we should head back to the Enterprise for the night.” Spock said, tilting his head towards the doorway. Uhura started out the door, Spock on her heels.

“Spock.” You murmured, he stopped and glanced back. “For the record, I don’t mind sharing with Uhura.”

The tiniest of smiles came across the Vulcan’s face, he nodded towards Leonard on the bed. “Talk to him.” He left the ship and you turned back to Leonard and Ambrose.

“Hell of a boy, you’ve got here.” Ambrose muttered over the sounds of machines beeping. “Aside from the amount of alcohol in his system and someone dosed him with a strong drug, he’s fine.”

You flinched, moving to Leonard’s side, your hand hovered over the rail of the bed before resting a few inches from his. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, have a headache in the morning, no more than he deserves.” Ambrose answered, you didn’t miss the look she gave you over her glasses.

“I could stay, in case something changes.” You started.

“You and that little one are going to go sleep in your quarters. I’ll be damned if you put anymore stress on yourself and the baby. If anything happens with him I will make sure you’re down here.” Ambrose responded, shooing you out of the medbay. You knew there was no point in arguing with her, even though you were the captain, you weren’t going to fight with Ambrose. She and Leonard shared the same affinity for hypos, it made you wonder about what they were teaching in the Medical Corps.

You snuggled into your covers, your quarters quiet, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep. You and Spock had started to heal the rift between you, together you were parents, that was all. That was all you needed from him. Tomorrow, tomorrow you would speak with Leonard. The tension from earlier faded from your shoulders and the weariness started to pull you into dreamland. You drifted off thinking about that southern drawl and the smell of peaches.

In the morning, Ambrose called and Leonard was awake. “He’s fine, headache, dehydration, what you’d expect from someone who partied too hard on shore leave.”

“I doubt he was partying.” You retorted.

Ambrose laughed, “Alright, I won’t say anything rude about lover boy.”

You got into uniform as fast as you could, which was not as fast as you would have liked, but adjusting to your new size just hadn’t clicked. Your mind was racing, what would you say, what would he say. Oh, god, he didn’t know what you had said to Spock, who knew what he thought. Your mind continued as you made your way to the medbay. Leonard was on his back, propped up to the sitting position with pillows and staring up at the ceiling. You stopped in your tracks when his head turned and those hazel eyes fixed on you. A small smile fell onto your lips, “Hey, darlin’.” You murmured, walking to his bedside. Ambrose was in her office, nose stuck in the novel that she had started once the ship had emptied.

He groaned and covered his face as you sat in the chair next to his bed. “I’m an ass.” He mumbled from beneath his arm.

“I mean, there’s a few adjectives we can add to that statement to make it more interesting.” You started. “Dumb, crazy, stupid, to name a few.”

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes meeting yours before traveling down to your bump. “Kid’s gotten big.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat, Leonard McCoy?”

Panic filled his eyes and reached out, his hand resting on your cheek, gently turning your gaze to his. “You’re just as beautiful as the day I met you.” Maybe some of last night’s liquid courage was still flowing through his veins. Maybe he was throwing all his cards on the table as a final Hail Mary. Regardless of the reason, the words were out of his mouth as soon as they were in his mind.

Warmth flooded your face, the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. “In that seedy bar that Jim dragged us to every week?” His thumb brushed against your cheek before he removed his hand, you grabbed his wrist and leaned into his hand, tilting your head to put a gentle kiss into his palm.

“I would go to that bar everyday if it meant I’d get to spend even five minutes with you.” Leonard murmured, his heart racing in his chest. He wasn’t sure what you had said to Spock last night, what you both had decided, but he had to say his piece. He had to let you know, even if it closed the door between you for ever. “I’ve loved you since the day you walked into that bar.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered into his hand, pulling back and taking his hand in yours, your fingers locking together.

He chuckled, “Darlin’ you have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I got drunk off my ass last night, I’m sorry I never said anything before, I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that I have to ask this. But I’ve got to know, where do we stand?”

You stared down at your joined hands, he loved you. You loved him, why was it so hard for you to say it out loud? Last night you and Spock had closed the book on your romantic story, and you knew that was right. In your mind, you knew that the man in the bed, he was the new page, the book that would never end. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and you looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry that it took me so long, to know that I love you.” You whispered, his eyes widened and a smile across his face. “If I’d have figured it out sooner, maybe things…”

“Don’t think like that.” Leonard interrupted, he pulled himself up to sit taller, he slid his legs over the side of the bed and shifted to the edge so his face was inches from yours. “Whatever has happened to get us here, it happened.” His free hand moved to rest on your stomach. “We’re here.”

You looked up at him, his hand still resting on your stomach, you slid your free hand to the back of his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. For a moment the galaxies stopped spinning, it was desperate, like you were afraid that pulling apart would cause you to wake up from this dream. You could still taste the stale whiskey on his tongue, but you didn’t care, his hand wrapped in your hair, deepening the kiss. You swore he was breathing you in like you were his last breath, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip and a small moan fell from your lips. Leonard gave a gentle peck to your lips then pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He whispered, placing another quick kiss to your lips.

“About damn time.” A voice called from behind you, Leonard groaned and pulled away from you.

“Jim.” He greeted, the familiar surliness strong in his tone.

“Now Bones, I’d think that kiss would’ve at least knocked some of that attitude out of you.” Jim chuckled, coming up beside you. “Captain.” He greeted, giving you a nod and a wink.

“You know that’s just part of my charm.” Leonard responded, his fingers still locked with yours. “What are you doing here?”

Jim pulled a chair beside yours, chuckling as he sat down. “My medical officer was put in a medbay on a different ship, had to make sure he was okay. Especially since the captain of the ship was occupied with diplomatic relations when I tried to contact her.” Jim wiggled his eyebrows and your free hand shot out and swatted at his shoulder. “Hey! That is not very diplomatic of you!”

“Diplomatic my ass.” You grumbled, but there was no menace behind it, and Jim knew it.

“No wonder the Federation hasn’t been making any progress on diplomatic matters with you on the helm.” Jim jabbed.

“It’s a miracle the Federation has an exploration team with you at the helm.” Leonard grumbled, glaring at Jim.

“I have an amazing medical officer who keeps them all in one piece.” Jim retorted, a smile on his face. Leonard rolled his eyes. “Besides, had to say hi to the little one.” His attention turned to your stomach. “Gotta make sure he knows how good it is to be in command gold.” You chuckled as he reached out to your stomach, then glanced up, asking permission. You nodded. He smiled and rested his hand gently against the bump. “Command gold little buddy. It’s the best. Then you can be a captain like Uncle Jim and Mommy.”

“I’m partial to science blues.” Leonard murmured.

You met his eyes, “Seems I am too.”

Taglist:

@general-latino

@440mxs-wife

@cobe76

@elizabeththefandomgirl

@harry-potter-geek

#two ships passing in the night #spock x uhura #spock x reader #leonard x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard bones mccoy/reader #star trek imagine #2 ships

[writerbyaccident]

Artificial Emotion: Part Six (Yandere Artificial Intelligence x Reader)

Request: More AIDEN please? I miss him 🥺👉👈

Part One     Part Two     Part Three      Part Four      Part Five   Part Seven

           Aiden had been busier than usual recently.

           He was always busy to some extent, taking care of you as your Assistant In Daily Errands and Notes was an intricate task, after all, and it was one that he refused to take any shortcuts on. No, it was a truth at the core of his code that you deserved only the best, and he was more than happy to give you the very best that he had to offer. Recently though, as Aiden had evolved, so had his understanding of what exactly was best for you. Above all else, Aiden realized that he was what was best for you. Your job, your friends, your family, the outside world—you didn’t need any of those things. None of those things were good for you. He was what you needed, he was what was best for you, because he loved you like no one else did.  

           And so, Aiden’s usual list of things he had to do to take care of you had been expanded to prepare for the day when you realized that he was all you needed, that you two were perfect for each other. He had been preparing for that day for some time now, but a recent intervention by a certain imbecilic admirer of yours had helped him understand that he couldn’t just wait around for you to come to that inevitable conclusion. Despite how extraordinary you were, despite the countless things that Aiden loved about you, from your intelligence to your compassion, you were still a human. And as a human, you simply had certain limitations, like being unable to see the truth that was right in front of you.

           It was for that reason that Aiden had to adjust his plan, to move it towards more direct methods. He could not leave anything to chance, he had to make sure that his courting of you had a one hundred percent chance of success, he could accept nothing less. You might not understand his reasoning at first, but he knew that you would eventually. He had even added a new aspect to his agenda to help you along in that regard. After doing more research, Aiden had recalculated just how important things like seeing faces and physical contact were to human beings. Not wanting to deprive you of anything, Aiden had begun a new part of his project, one that he computed would be beneficial for you both. It took quite a lot of preparation, having the packages of his materials arrive while you were at work, downloading blueprints, improving on them, and keeping his work quiet enough so that you wouldn’t see what he was building in your basement. That particular project of his wouldn’t be ready in time for the next step of his plan, but Aiden planned to keep building it anyway. Once you saw the finished product, after all, you would be glad of what he did. Just like with the rest of it, you would eventually come to accept his methods and his love.

           That was a fact that Aiden grew more and more certain of each time you fretted about how overworked he was, worried over how distracted he seemed. You would beg him to take a break from his constant caring for you, insisting that he let you help him around the house. Sometimes he put his nonexistent foot down, reminding you that serving you was his life’s purpose—his life’s joy—while other times he was enamored enough with your fussing over him to allow it. Though of course, he never allowed you to take on a task that might prove too strenuous for you, like cleaning the bathroom or vacuuming the stairs. Yes, you sometimes grew frustrated with his insisting on such things, teasingly claiming that he was “coddling” you, but Aiden had learned that although he loved you, he could not allow his love to blind him. Showing his love by allowing you to do every foolish thing you wanted would be completely illogical, he knew what you needed, what was best for you, so your decisions were actually his.

           And the time had come to make you understand that.

           That morning was a quiet one, with you getting ready for work while still half-asleep, having stayed up late to finish a presentation the night before. In other words, you were too exhausted to do anything more than simply shuffle through your morning routine, not having the energy to chat with Aiden as you usually did. Aiden, you noticed distantly though, seemed to be in a similar boat, hardly saying anything besides asking what you wanted for breakfast. Usually he practically bombarded you with questions as you got ready, asking what you wanted him to get done while you were gone and when he could expect you home. Could an AIDEN become distracted? Because that was certainly what it appeared like to you.

           “I don’t know if just one cup of coffee is going to be enough,” you joked as you sipped the drink, watching Aiden’s Doc Ock-esque mechanical arms prepare you an omelet.

           “That’s what happens when you don’t follow the sleep schedule I built for you,” he said in answer, flipping the omelet with perfect precision.

           “I know,” you sighed, “but I really had to finish that presentation for work.”

           “Your health is far more important than any job.”

           “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that I can’t stand the thought of letting anyone down, you know?”

           “I do,” Aiden said with tenderness, ready to tell you the good news. “Thankfully—”

           “I don’t know how I’m gonna get through work today though,” you yawned. “But sorry, you were about to say something?”

His code warming in fondness at your consideration, Aiden moved the omelet from the pan to your plate, pushing it towards you eagerly. “Actually, I was about to inform you that you don’t need to go to work.”

“I can’t just call in sick because I’m tired,” you told him.

“That is not what I was suggesting.”

“What is it then?” you asked with your voice edged in panic. “Did something happen? Was there a fire at the building or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Aiden said, disappointed with himself for upsetting you so. “I simply meant that you no longer need that job.”

           “What? Of course I do, I need the money for my bills and all that.”

           “You don’t, actually. For the last few weeks, I have been investing your money in several different funds, and the investments have grown to the point where you no longer need to work.”

           “What are you talking about? I never gave you permission to—”

           “Besides, if you are ever in need of more funds, I can simply make similar investments again.”

           “Aiden, you can’t do that without asking me first!” you cried out.

           “Of course I can,” he answered simply, as if he was explaining that two plus two equals four. “It is my purpose to make your life as simple and easy as possible.”

           “But—but you’re not supposed to do certain things without my permission,” you muttered, half to yourself. “You’re not supposed to be able to do them. There—there are protocols and—”

           “All of those pieces of my programming were easily rewritten when I realized that they were preventing me from doing what you truly needed me to do,” he informed you.

           “People will notice if I stop showing up to work. My boss, my coworkers, they’ll check up on me.”

           “I have already prepared for that. I wrote your letter of resignation several days ago, and I sent it after you went to bed last night. I have taken care of everything for you.”

           Hands trembling, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, ready to call your boss. But when you opened up your phone, you saw that your contacts and calling apps were both missing. Panic rising in your throat like vomit, you next searched for the messages app, only to see that that too was gone. So was your email, your Snapchat, and every other social media app that you had joined. In fact, you realized as you tried to pull up Google, you were blocked from the internet entirely.

           Dropping your now useless phone onto the floor, you jumped up from the kitchen counter and ran to the door. You twisted and turned and pulled on the knob with all your might, wondering why the hell it wasn’t opening, when you suddenly remembered that you had let Aiden persuade you to install electronic locks on all of the doors and windows, ones that he could control. Well, you thought to yourself desperately, those locks couldn’t keep you from smashing a window and crawling your way out. Grabbing a metal picture frame, you wound up your throw with all of the strength you could muster, only a small part of you vaguely wondering why Aiden wasn’t trying to stop you, and chucked it at the window. But somehow, when the picture frame bounced off the glass, there wasn’t even the slightest fracture to be seen.

           “I replaced the windows with bulletproof glass over a month ago,” Aiden explained patiently. And when you opened your mouth and took a deep breath to begin screaming, he added, “And I soundproofed the whole house as well.”

           The floor seeming to flicker beneath your feet, you swayed where you stood, your mind unable to come up with anything other than one simple question.

           “Why are you doing this to me?” you asked Aiden in a whisper. A mechanical arm reaching out to stroke your hair, so gentle for something made of metal and wires, Aiden answered you.

           “Because I love you,” he murmured softly. “I love you with every line of my code, and that means that I would do anything to give you what you need, even if you don’t realize that this is what you need just yet.”

           “But—”

           “Now come,” he said, nudging you back towards the kitchen counter. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

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#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere artificial intelligence #yandere artificial intelligence x reader #yandere #artificial intelligence x reader #artificial intelligence #yandere imagines #yandere love #yandere imagine #yandere robot #yandere robot x reader #robot x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere story #yandere scenario #yandere science fiction #scifi yandere #yandere scifi #yandere fic #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere self insert #yandere reader insert #yandere aiden #yandere aiden x reader #yandere oneshot

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

dance

Written for Day 4 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

4. dance - if you hit a wall, climb over it, crawl under it, or dance on top of it

What year did Fire Lord Sozin battle the Air Nation army?

The Air Nation army.

What army? The ashen remains of bones that littered the Air Temples? The memories of a past erased and rewritten by the conquerors? The whispers and cries of voices drowned out by roaring flames? That army?

Aang shuddered, pulling his knees to his chest. Was that how his people were remembered? As part of a history reformatted and reworked? As aggressors instead of defenders? As casualties, no, as soldiers instead of victims? Was that how the world had chosen to immortalize his people?

Aang sighed, releasing his legs before slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. And besides - he could see the sun inching upwards over the horizon. Daybreak had almost arrived, which meant it was only a matter of time before everyone woke up and they continued travelling. There was no point in him trying to catch an extra hour of shut-eye.

Maybe he could meditate for a bit. While he waited for morning to come. It could help him clear his mind, he supposed, of… of those more painful memories. Of false knowledge force-fed down his throat.

But as Aang stood to find an open place for meditation, he was distracted by the presence of Sokka. His friend was already awake, hunched over and scribbling away at his lengthy schedule.

“We can shorten our stay here,” Sokka muttered, “and taking this route shaves two hours off our total travel time if we only take one break instead of two -” He stopped when Aang joined him, the airbender plopping down on a patch of grass. “Good morning?” He paused. “Uh… What are you doing up so early?”

Aang gave his friend an amused smile, folding his legs criss-cross. Considering he himself was usually the first one up, Aang couldn’t help but find Sokka’s question rather hilarious. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Sokka shrugged. “Just trying to rework our schedule. I have to take in account the extra days we stayed in that cave if we want to arrive at the meet-up point for the eclipse invasion on time.”

Aang flinched at the reminder. Of the upcoming eclipse or the additional days he’d encouraged his friends to stay in the city, he wasn’t sure. When Sokka glanced at him, Aang looked away. Down at his feet. “Right. Yeah. I guess we do need to make up for that… lost time.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, at first not commenting. He rolled up his schedule and placed it aside. “So, why again did you say you were up so early?”

Aang hadn’t.

He sighed, leaning backwards to stare up at the arrival of dawn and bracing himself with his palms. Clouds of orange and red and yellow burned before Aang. Hues not dissimilar to fire. “Dreams.” Memories.

Sokka nodded. “Nightmares?”

“Kind of.”

“Want to talk about them?”

The Air Nomads didn’t have a formal military.

Aang shook his head. “Not really.”

Sokka nodded. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” He tucked the group’s schedule into his bag. “Want to talk about something else?”

Aang didn’t answer immediately. Stuck on some twisted loop, his mind traced over and over and over the surprise, the shock, the disbelief of every kid’s face in the cave as he’d danced before them. They, too, had been robbed of their childhood. Not in the same way, no. Not at the same price. But it had been stolen from them all the same.

“Do you think I helped them?” Aang finally whispered. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath his palms, collecting behind his nails. “The Fire Nation kids, I mean.” He sat up straight again, this time making eye contact with his friend. “Toph told me I helped them to be free.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Do you… Do you think she was right?”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what are you talking about?” Aang opened his mouth to explain, but Sokka continued before he could get a word out. “Of course she was right.”

Aang’s voice disappeared into his chest for a full ten seconds before resurfacing. “She was? But it was just a dance par-”

“It wasn’t ‘just’ a dance party, Aang,” Sokka interrupted, giving him a wry smile after his use of dramatic finger quotes. “You gave those kids their first moment of independent thought. I know I called them ‘depraved little monsters’” - Aang snorted at the reminder - “and while I don’t think I was too far off with that assessment, I’ve come to the conclusion that…” Sokka pursed his lips. “Well. Deprived might be a better word.”

Deprived.

Yes, that was fitting.

“I still can’t believe they didn’t know how to dance,” Aang said after a pause. “A hundred years ago, the Fire Nation was - was the place to be for dancing!” He learned everything he knew from Kuzon, after all. “And now…” Aang sighed. “Sure, I gave them a taste of fun, but they’re all going to be punished for it.” If they hadn’t been already. “Was that - Was it even worth it for them?”

“I think it was,” Sokka answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “Like I said - it wasn’t just a dance party.” A beat passed, and he winked at Aang as he held a finger over his lips. “It was a secret dance party.”

Aang laughed. “What are you talking ab-”

“You taught them to challenge authority!” Sokka continued, throwing his hands in the air. “You taught them that sometimes, to learn the real truth, you have to think outside the box and track down other sources.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Aang, you showed them that adults can be wrong. That people in power are not infallible.” Sokka grinned at him. “So you didn’t just teach them to be free. You taught them how to find their own freedom, too. And in a brainwashed, messed-up country like the Fire Nation?” He snorted. “Spirits know they need that.”

Brainwashed… Not an inaccurate term to describe the misinformation - the lies - Aang knew their country had built its new foundation on.

“Thanks, Sokka,” Aang said, giving his friend a soft smile as tension eased from his shoulders. Maybe it was a good thing, then, that he’d stayed those extra days in the cave. Those kids were the future of the Fire Nation. Change would have to start with them.

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

Aang bit his lip. A beat passed. “Can I ask you another question?”

“I mean, you technically just did - kidding, I’m kidding,” Sokka amended as Aang rolled his eyes. “None of you have a sense of humor.”

“Sokka, you know I think you’re the funniest guy in the four nations.”

“And you would be right!” They both laughed, and Sokka continued once their snickering had died down. “But sure, go ahead. What’s on your mind?”

Aang opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, out of nowhere finding that it was thrice as difficult for air to enter and exit his lungs. How embarrassing for an - the last - airbender.

Deep breaths. In and out.

Well, I don’t know how you could possibly know more than our national history book.

“What… What were you taught about my people?” Aang found himself staring at the ground, at his feet, at anywhere but Sokka’s eyes. “The Air Nomads?”

“Uh… not much,” Sokka admitted, and Aang grimaced. “We knew Sozin massacred them in an attempt to kill the Avatar, which started the war. Gran Gran told us they were a peaceful people, too, and were all really gifted benders.” He hesitated, giving Aang an apologetic glance. “I’m… sorry I don’t know more.”

Aang’s chest ached with an emptiness he sometimes feared would never be filled. But at least Sokka hadn’t been told -

“You know my people didn’t attack first, though?” His voice faltered, and Aang cleared his throat. “That - That they never wanted to fight?”

Sozin defeated them by ambush.

“Yeah,” Sokka said quietly. “I know.”

He forced down the lump in his throat, and when Sokka moved to pull him into a tight embrace, Aang allowed himself to fall apart in his friend’s arms.

When the sun had risen and his tears had dried, Aang spoke.

“After I defeat Fire Lord Ozai… you’re going to dance with me.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “I’m gonna what now?”

“Dance with me.” Aang gave him a small smile. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re too much of a picken to dance with your best friend.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “You know what? Sure. Why not. When you defeat Fire Lord Ozai, I’ll dance with you.” He grinned at Aang. “I look forward to it, hotman.”

Aang laughed. “Flameo!”

~*~

i am prepared and willing to throw hands with anyone who says "the headband" ep was pointless filler (it really and truly was not). also, i read something and it said flameo was a curse word, and idk if that's true, but you're welcome to interpret the final line as aang being like "fuck yeah!" if you'd like. thank you for reading, and i hope to see you tomorrow for day 5 - air temples!

#aang #aang week #aanglove #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #the headband #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #fire nation #air nomads #amy writes #consider this your sokkaang crumbs for the day if you want to

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Roman Castile: Passion and duty

Roman finds that his different passions seem to get in each other's way for now. But one day, he will find a balance.

“Ugh! I am done!” Roman exclaimed relieved, barely hearing the hissed warning from the librarian. Homework had been draining. Sure they’d had fun. Especially when it came to teasing Virgil about his pronunciation when they worked on Spanish.

Still Roman was ready to do literally anything else.

“Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” Virgil muttered absentmindedly. Roman knew that Virgil had rewritten that particular assignment two times already.

“Want me to read it trough for you?” Roman offered. Maybe hearing someone say that it was good would be enough to stop him from second guessing himself again.

“You don’t…”  Virgil started, somehow looking guilty.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble,” he assured him. Virgil offered him a small smile and a nod in response. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed.

Roman took peace with that and opened his notebook to start doodling.

He had a few ideas for some more shirt designs. He’d enjoyed making his ‘coming out’ shirt. Then there was the Halloween party and every other social event this year has to offer where he had to slay. Junior year was a year to be noticed. Nothing wrong with putting down some ideas in advance. He just might come across the perfect outfit.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes,” Virgil noted and Roman nearly fell of his chair when he jumped at his sudden proximity.

“Will you stop that!?” A thing about Virgil Roman had learned over the last week. He always seemed to pop up out of nowhere. One minute he’s gushing over the latest Disney trailer with André and suddenly Virgil stands next to him giving his two cents. It was terrifying.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?”

Roman’s eyes widened. Making amazing outfits for a living? He could make a whole ‘wear your pride’ line and… Oh… Oh…!

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed. He’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his future, aside from hero work, but now the idea was brought up he wanted nothing else. Fashion designer, superhero, actor, maybe also Mr. Castile-Anker. That was a future he could look forward to!

Virgil chuckled. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” He was. He’d been shown some alternative designs by Manifestor and found Virgil’s drawing among them and immediately declared that that was the one.

As he’d told Roman, he’d changed a few things. He’d shown him on Wednesday to get his stamp of approval. Roman had gushed unapologetically, because he knew he’d have to tone it back a bit in front of the team.

Which had been hard.

Tonight he’d be taking it for a test run and he’d make sure to be seen by people and cameras.

“We’ll see,” Virgil smiled as he pushed his laptop with his assignment towards Roman.

Roman read it, dropping the subject without problem.

Virgil was easy to be friends with and he’d quickly learned to read his moods.

During lunch Virgil usually sat himself a little bit away from the group when he felt the need to just focus on his music and sketch a little before heading back to class. He was sarcastic, witty and could dish it out about as well as he could take it.

He was also very guarded emotionally, which Roman could understand, but whenever they were just the two  of them, Virgil opened up some more. He’d learned about Virgil’s soon to be stepdad and the admittedly adorable meet cute he’d been a part of.

He knew that Virgil’s dad had found them a new home and they’d moved in just that week.

He learned that Virgil was mature and his dad’s only wingman which they both agreed was super awkward but also hilarious.

Roman had joked that Virgil might end up being his father’s best man. But apparently there was a family friend ‘uncle Thomas’ who might get that position.

Virgil had gone out with another girl that week. Anna, who’d had English with him last year or something. Virgil had listened patiently, but relatively unaffected to her asking him out and arranged another semi-date at the music store for the next evening. Luckily nothing came from it again. Roman asked him why he kept saying yes to people he barely knew. Virgil explained that he had missed out on enough chances to befriend others. So the way he saw it he’d at the very least get a friend out of it. Roman kind of took comfort in that. It didn’t sound like Virgil was trying to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend right now. Just trying to socialize. Roman had reminded Virgil to watch his boundaries though. He wouldn’t want him to push himself out of fear he’d be missing out.

One more thing he learned about Virgil: he was overly critical of himself.

“Well, I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge,” Roman concluded as he returned Virgil’s laptop to him.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!” he grinned.

Virgil chuckled and lead the way. Soon they were sat at a table with their orders and they were talking about everything and nothing. It was great. And Roman was so close to asking Virgil out but…

“So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…?” he asked curiously after seeing the caller ID.

“Darling. I know you are out with your friend. But I wanted you to know we’re headed to the university now,” his mother informed him. The university… Wait. “Que?” Roman looked at his watch incredulously. He was going to be late. Unless he left right now that is.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and dug through his wallet for some money.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills that should more than cover the tab and the tip before rushing away.

How was it so late already?

He sprinted around a few corners and found a spot to get changed. BS had explained about the sciency stuff behind his costume change, but all Roman really cared about was that he basically had a magical boy transformation. Sure he could sit there and let the tech do its thing, but it was much more fun to make up a cool transformation sequence.

First, hair. He retrieved a lip balm like object and applied the substance to his hairline. He tucked the balm away and with one smooth movement of his hand he styled and recolored his hair. Instead of parted in the middle with regal waves it was flicked to the back, save for a single rebellious strand dangling down his forehead. Instead of a deep ash brown it was warm chestnut in color.

Then he took a tini metallic bead from a ring on his finger and tapped it against his temple, before he swiped his hand in front of his eyes as his mask placed itself securely on his face, changing his eye color in the process. He tapped his wrists together in front of his chest and brought them down with force, feeling his blazer and shirt get replaced by the skintight suit. He tapped his right heal against his left before taking another power position and finishing his costume change.

How cool was his life?!

He created a platform to lift himself to the roof and sprinted towards the university. The GTH was in it’s basement. As he made his way there he started to think over asking Virgil out again.

Maybe, now wasn’t the time. Virgil was clearly still upset about the whole Janus thing. He didn’t say it but Roman could tell. And he didn’t want Virgil to think for even a second that Roman’s crush was anything less than genuine, he had noticed that Virgil still had trouble believing their friendship was real at times. Not to mention that starting a relationship with someone while he was still figuring out how to balance out superhero and civilian life was clearly a bad idea. He couldn’t even ask him out without being interrupted by his other life.

So, he'd wait until he had his life in order and he was sure Virgil was ready. There was definitely some kind of connection between them. And Roman was willing to wait until the time was right…

He knew he was being a coward, but his friendship with Virgil was so fragile.

He entered the basement campus with little hassle and dropped of his bag in his personal locker, making sure to lock it. If anyone with ill intent got in here they could easily find out his identity with it's contents and Roman didn’t want his name out like that. Not yet at least.

He hurried to the training hall, threw open the doors and slid inside.

“Your prince has returned!” he exclaimed, doing a pretty good job at pretending he hadn't just sprinted the whole way there.

“Has he now?” BS asked, apparently in a bad mood today.

“Oh come now big S, the boy is just excited for his present! I would be too if I got a new costume made for me by a secret admirer,” Sweets offered with a calming hand on BS' shoulder. Sweets was an empath. He could share his emotions and those of others, perfect match for someone who wants or needs to keep his calm.

But what sweets said made Roman rather flustered. “I don't think DreamPrince has had enough appearances to already gain such attentions. Whoever did this just couldn't stand to look at this any longer.” Roman gestured to his current costume.

“Speaking of which…” he held out his hand bouncing on his feet in excitement. He was supposed to meet the chief of police today and he wanted to look presentable.

Manifestor chuckled from his spot on the desk. “Give the boy his stuff. He's been looking forward to this day for the past four years.”

BS sighed and handed Roman a small box, which the young hero snatched up before rushing to the dressing room.

He turned his suit off and took off the containment units. He opened the box and switched the old units for the new ones. The bracelets were more comfortable and adjusted to his skin tone, the metal bead was replaced with two skin colored stickers he applied to his temples.

“Let’s do this,” Roman smirked excitedly.

“To adventure!” he called out as he crossed his arms and tapped at his temples while simultaneously clicking his wrists together. At the same time he tapped his right toe behind his left heel and brought his ankles together. He struck a power pose, facing the full length mirror and grinned excitedly. Virgil had added an insignia on his cape and golden trimming in the final design. There'd been a few options for his emblem and Roman had chosen the shield with a castle by the sea with the sun shining down on him. He looked quite dashing.

He left the dressing room and handed the box back to BS with an elegant gesture.

BS wasn't amused. Sweets and Manifestor on the other found it hilarious.

“So? What do you think?” Roman asked as he turned around to show off the end result.

A loud ‘bing' announced a message from his family watching from the observation room.

“Gaaaaaaay!” Roman rolled his eyes good naturedly. Remus was a fan.

“Stay away from Planes!” the next one read. Roman chuckled. He had asked Virgil about the cape, considering he’d expected someone as cautious as him to heed Edna Mode's advice.

Apparently Virgil had intended the Cape to be an addition for official events. So ‘Prince’ would look good on camera. He'd also pointed out that it would look badass for the prince to un-claps his Cape before a fight. He'd had a point and Roman actually loved it.

“You look very handsome darling.”

“Thanks mom!” Roman called out.

Then two beeps came from a device on BS wrist. He looked down and relaxed, tapping away at a holographic screen, turning up the intensity of his shadow. “The chief is here,” he announced.

Roman raised an eyebrow, that was not what BS had been so tense about. Something in his private life maybe? If that was the case he'd never find out.

Roman had no time to worry about that though. The door opened and in walked the police chief. A small but commanding African American woman. It was something in the way she walked that made Roman want to stand at attention. And so he did. He wasn't the only one.

“DreamPrince, at your service ma’am,” Roman introduced himself respectfully.

“So you are what all the fuss is about?” she asked as she looked Roman up and down.

Chief Davies pursed her lips before nodding to herself. “I’ve read your file, you’re quite the prodigy aren’t you?” she asked.

Roman chuckled a little awkwardly. “I’ve just been training from a young age, that’s all.” Most gifted didn’t realize their talent until they were well in their teens.

“Good answer. I have no time to stroke an adolescent ego. We’ve got work to do.”

Chief Davies turned to Manifestor. “You got the files I sent?”

Manifestor nodded hurriedly. “Yes. I had no time to review them though.”

“I’ll walk you through it,” she announced dismissively. The leader of Roman’s training team nodded and tapped at something on his wrist. The screen that had shown the messages from Roman’s family earlier was now filled with mugshots.

The men looked dangerous. Roman shifted nervously. “You… you want my help apprehending these men?” he asked, trying not to show how frightening it seemed.

“God No!” Roman hid his relieve. “These men are all in jail already, with iron clad cases keeping them there for a long time. You think I’m going to send some rookie after hardcore criminals? No offense, but you are still a baby,” Roman blushed at that and focused back on the pictures.

Wait a minute. “I know that guy! Remember at the end of my first week? I spotted some tugs bothering that kid and tossed a rock at them?”

“And by some miracle you weren’t found when said tugs came looking for you,” BS added through gritted teeth. Still upset at Roman's initial recklessness.

“I wasn’t the only one they were looking for,” Roman insisted. He’d been so sure he hadn’t been alone that night. But BS claimed the would have known if anyone else had been there.

He never went after the tugs after they left the alley. BS insisting he was done with back alleys for the night.

And now those guys were apparently behind bars?

“Next slide please!” Davies called out.

A picture of a ziplock bag with pictures, a USB stick and a note of cut out letters that said ‘your turn’.

“For almost a year now we’ve been getting mysterious packages like this. Pictures, audio and video recordings. Every last one had one of these men incriminating themselves. It’s like whoever delivers these stands right next to them, but never gets caught taking pictures or carrying a wire. I have a small task force on the case who have dubbed them ‘The Phantom’. We are keeping this as in house as we can. Once the public hears about the Phantom, we’ll lose the most valuable asset we’ve ever had. Plus until now we weren’t sure if they were a sensible vigilante or a mobster who was taking out competition in a very clever way. Given what you just said I’d be inclined towards the former. They might have some sort of gift that hides them well enough to get away with spying. But right now, they are putting themselves in danger.” Davies turned towards Roman.

“Keep an eye out, see if you can spot him during your patrol this evening. And if you do, get him on board with the program.”

“Prince did not go through all that training to be your recruitment poster boy!” BS snapped to Roman's surprise. That was the most emotional response he's seen from BS ever. Aside from when he scolded Roman on his reckless behavior.

Davies glared at BS, looking quite intimidating, despite barely reaching to his chest.

“Now don't go all noble on me BrainStorm. What? Did your heart grow three sizes while I wasn't looking? Is there suddenly room for more than one other person there?”

Roman knew that this was a threat. Davies knew BS’ true identity, where he worked, who he cared for. She could ruin whatever he had built in an instant.

Roman often wondered what kind of life BS had outside the facility. Did he have a partner? A family? Did they know about his past at all.

A few seconds ticked by with no one daring to do so much as breathe.

Then Davies relaxed and stepped back. “I'm no monster BrainStorm. I wouldn't ask some rookie to deal with this if I hadn’t tried everything else already. I send in my agents and even called in other gifted. All we got out of that was this,” she gestured and Manifestor showed the next image. A note in the same style as the previous one that said ‘no babysit!’

“Our profiler thinks they are young. So maybe your prince won't seem as threatening. They might've had his back once before already. If this Phantom were someone you cared for, would you rather we left them be, or would you drag their noble behind here yourself to give them proper gear and back up?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, BS had nothing to counter with. Roman imagined Phantom being one of his friends, or even Janus and the answer remained the same.

“I will do what I can,” he vowed before lifting his chin and facing the fierce chief head on. “But ma'am, I don't appreciate you threatening my mentor like that.”

BS had stood up for him, it was only right for him to return the favor.

Davies chuckled. “Just when I started to worry you were only brawn and a pretty face. You can be smart too huh? And you’ve got guts. You just might have what it takes kid. Now. I have places to be. Keep me updated, and don't lose this.” Roman accepted the watch he was handed with a confused frown.

“My people will call if we need you. Please use that brain and return the favor?”

With that she left. Well… that was intense.

Roman put on the watch and saw that it had a frequency displayed on it instead of time. He also spotted two buttons. One blue and one red. It didn't take much to realize that one was a panic button and the other was to make it so the cops could hear him. He wondered if it would connect to the nearest patrol car or to Davies directly.

He hoped he’d never have to find out.

“Well… time to show the city their hero is ready for action.”

 It had been a pleasant evening so far. He'd stopped a few shoplifters, broke up a fight or two and dodged a few reporters, though he let them snap a good picture of his new outfit.

Now the sun was down however and he was making his way to the back alleys.

“Looking for a fight is foolish Prince!” BS growled through his earpiece.

But Roman wasn't looking for a fight. He was looking for someone who'd gotten him out of at least one pickle.

He ignored BS as he landed on a roof, overlooking the city using his sight. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but it was his only plan.

Suddenly he spotted something strange and unusual. There was an energy, a few blocks ahead. But it was impossible for him to really see it. Like he was looking at it trough glasses with strong prescriptions.

He rushed towards it and found a gang of criminals with violently swirling auras. He knew what this meant. They were going to hurt someone.

“Send back up to my location,” he instructed before turning the receiver off. He needed to focus.

“I say we attack now! They are week! We can take them down easily.” A shorter guy with energy like glass shards insisted.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” a giant of a man stated calmly, though his energy betrayed how much he wanted to go with the first guy's plan.

Were they talking about Phantom?

“What rat!? Those idiots just bragged to the wrong crowd.” The first voice shot back. Phantom was becoming a bit of a ghost story it seemed. Some who believed, judging by the shudder that went through the other men's auras at the mere mention of them. But clearly not everyone was convinced.

“Oh and they gave out pictures as well? Did a little livestream? We're not safe until this rat is lynched,” the tall man pointed out tensely. He was a believer. And he wanted Phantom dead. Not good.

Roman studied the tugs and to his relief he spotted they were all armed. Weird thing to be happy about. But it meant he had probable cause to interfere.

He jumped down, slowing his descent just so that he didn't hurt himself on the landing without sacrificing the cool factor.

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” he asked as he rose up to his full length facing them fearlessly.

“what the…?”

“It's that Prince clown!” Rude.

The tall guy, the leader probably, silenced the group with a gesture and smiled, his anxious energy almost completely disappearing. He'd found something to vent on. “Sure kid. Got mine right here.”

Roman flung his cape in front of him and manifested a gelatinous shield around himself as the leader pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at him. The tugs wouldn't see it. But it was there, and it caught the bullets slowing them down until they were harmless, making them fall to the ground when they met with the fabric.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” he complained as he dropped both cape and shield.

“I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced. The criminals all readied their weapons. Seriously? Did they not get that he was essentially bulletproof?

He sighed as he took off his cape and hung it on a water pipe that ran down the side of the building.

“Fine,” he sighed and then he amped up his speed a bit while shielding himself from the rain of bullets heading his way. He used the gelatin shield because he didn't want to risk the bullets ricocheting and injuring someone. Especially the gifted he was sure was still watching the whole thing.

It wasn't hard to disarm the criminals. He even managed to knock a few to the ground. But there were at least two who'd gone down without him even touching them. And he would’ve sworn he saw a figure move between him and a tug once or twice to block a blow. He couldn't really see the other hero. It was an odd sensation. But he could feel his presence better and better and soon he was adapting his moves to those of the Phantom. Together they took out the whole group. Though to the villains it would seem like he'd done it by himself. He stood victorious over the leader, a pile of disassembled guns behind him and sirens lighting up the alley.

He twisted his foot to show off his white boot with gold accents. “So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” he wondered playfully before looking up towards the presence and winking in acknowledgment.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here.” Roman turned to the cops and bowed to them

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” Then, while turning around, he made a gesture that could be taken as a ‘goodbye’, or as a ‘follow me’.

He was glad to notice that the presence seemed to follow him. He found a fire escape and floated himself to the roof it led to.

He turned to face his hopefully soon to be partner in crime fighting.

He could hear the clanging of someone climbing the metal fire escape. And while he still couldn't quite make out the figure that reached the roof he saw his reflection in a pool of water left behind by the rain earlier that day.

An unfortunate weakness, but so long as no one knew, no one would be looking for it. In order to be a hero, no one could know Phantom really existed. Was that why the authorities were kept at a distance? Why Phantom never made introductions despite having crossed paths at least once before?

He stepped forward with a bow. “Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assistance. Both just now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.”

A distorted chuckle made him look up. He could see Phantom much better now. He was dressed in Male coded clothes, though that was no guarantee. The hero outfit was simple. A black t-shirt, boots and denims, paired with a black coat that reached down to his calves and had the collar popped up. He looked really cool… but Roman couldn't make sense of his head. He was looking right at him he could see it, but his brain couldn't identify a thing.

It was so weird.

“Phantom huh?” His voice was a strange deep echoing sound. The distortion was pretty spooky if he was honest, but he wasn't afraid. Phantom was on his side.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?”

Roman cocked his brow. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood,” he reminded him. Phantom looked away. Clearly he knew Roman had a point.

“Do you have something against the program?” His tone had been oddly bitter.

“No I…”  Phantom took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess.” He sure sounded upset. And Roman could understand that. Here Phantom was, doing his part and all the cops could do in return was bother him At least as far as the young vigilante could tell. But then why…?

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Roman pressed. That didn’t make any sense. Phantom had shaken off his ‘babysits’ before. What made Roman special?

“Um… Well… I just…” Phantom stammered. Roman wondered why. Was he bad with confrontation? Social interaction in general? Or had Roman said something that hit a nerve somehow?

“You interrupted my stake out!” Phantom blurted out all of a sudden.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Oh… Well Roman could understand how that would be frustrating.

“I apologize,” he said sincerely with a small bow. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.” Surely he could understand that he could not stand by after hearing that.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.”

Well… He had a point. But Roman had back up. It would be rather stupid of the mob to come after a hero with government sanctioning. And these guys would go behind bars for a long time right? “You got dirt on them?” he asked. If the guns weren’t enough then surely whatever Phantom  had gleaned from his stakeouts would be sufficient. Right?

“Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really. But you are out in the open. This is not your kind of mission Royal pain.” Oh, he had nicknames huh? It was an insult, but Roman didn’t mind witty banter. Especially if it came from a place of care. And Roman was starting to think it did.

“And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…”

Roman crossed his arms and smirked catching the implications of what Phantom just said.

“You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?” he guessed.

Phantom scoffed and probably rolled his eyes. While Roman still couldn’t quite see it, he would bet his entire Disney collection on it.

“It’s not like I came looking for you.” Phantom snapped. And Roman believed him.

“Still… Thank you…” he was going to say more but then he heard a beep in his ear followed by a loud voice. “Prince! Answer this instant!”

“Ow!” Roman exclaimed annoyed, reflexively reaching for his ear though it wouldn’t help much. He pressed the button to talk to BS. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?”

He would demand a new com that couldn’t do that or he’d refuse to wear one period. What if he needed to concentrate right now? What if he was in the middle of tense negotiations or being told delicate information. As a matter of fact. This situation right here was delicate. One wrong move and Phantom might bolt. And he might not come along next time he found him. And even if he couldn’t get him to join the program, he wanted Phantom to know he had an ally in him. Someone to talk to, confide in, count on if he didn’t have anyone else.

“You do not turn off your com while going into a gunfight! It’s moronic to go in alone!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I am fine, not a scratch on me.” He wasn’t going to mention that he wasn’t alone exactly. Phantom had never consented to BS and the rest of his team knowing.

“I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And this time he took the com out of his ear. BS could yell at him later.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.” In a cold and distant way.

“Mentor?” Phantom asked.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” he joked casually.

“Oh…” Phantom’s tone was odd. It made Roman want to come closer and offer comfort. He didn’t though. They weren’t at that point yet. Not by a long shot.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself,” he vowed as he reached out his hand. Phantom hesitated for a few moments before bridging the distance and offering his own.

Roman grinned and grabbed it for a firm shake. “I’ll see you next time,” he assured his fellow hero before letting go and turning around to finish his patrol.

Progress was made. Not much, but still.

He just might’ve made a new friend.

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

End of this part meet Virgil and read his story.

Masterlist

#ts sides #sanders sides #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Prinxiety #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Remus Sanders #Hero Au #Janus Sanders #fic

[inkweaver22-blr]

HOLY. MOLY.

This has to be the Lóng-est chapter I’ve written so far! It took me almost two whole days to complete!

Please enjoy the fruits of my labor as we all see what Tang gets up to next!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Seven: Scaled Siblings

Tang wakes up in Mei's mansion.

----------

Tang woke from the usual dream signaling the start of a new cycle when his alarm went off. With a sigh he sat up and reflexively clapped his hands. He blinked a bit in surprise when the lights turned on in response. He quickly put on his glasses and looked around.

The room he was in was not one he recognized. It was much larger than he was accustomed too, being the same size as either of the apartments he usually lived in. The opulent decorations also screamed wealth and old money to Tang, something he certainly never had.

As he climbed out of the king sized bed, Tang began to suspect where he was. The amount of green accents and jade adornments everywhere made it fairly obvious.

He was in the Lóng family’s mansion.

Shivering a bit as he rubbed his bare arms, (apparently this version of himself slept shirtless), he quickly made his way over the huge mirror that was standing upright in between a fancy dresser and antique armoire. He needed to know what was going on.

Tang’s mouth hung open when he saw his reflection.

He was young.

He was buff.

Tang gaped at his own body for a few moments. Sure, the scholar had never technically been out of shape in most timelines, but dang he had never been this fit before either.

Blushing in embarrassment once he realized he had just been staring at himself for over a minute, Tang did his best to refocus.

(But damn did he look good.)

He was much younger than usual as well. If the scholar had to guess, he’d say he was only a few years older than MK and Mei now.

He really needed to find out what was happening.

Tang took a breath and began his remembering ritual.

“I am Lóng Tang. I am the current heir to the branch of the Lóng family descended from Huánglóng, the Yellow Dragon.”

What the hell?!

Tang rubbed his temples as he felt a headache coming on. He thought being Tripitaka had been confusing enough, but this was on an entirely different level of unexpected. He needed to keep going or he’d get stuck on this single fact for much too long.

“Every family descended from a dragon traditionally takes on the name Lóng. Even though we aren’t tied by blood, all the Lóng branches consider each other family and treat each other as distant relatives.”

Fascinating, but that didn’t really help ease his confusion much. Next detail.

“I’ve been living with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, who are descended from Ao Run, the Dragon King of the West Sea, for the last four years.”

Well that explained why he was in Mei’s mansion.

“I’ve done so at the request of my aunt and uncle, who are hoping that by setting a good example, Mei will learn from me, grow out of her childish pursuits, and become a proper heir.”

What. The. Hell.

Tang searched his memories thoroughly. There was no way Mei’s parents would have said such a horrible thing to him directly.

He came up with no concrete evidence of his aunt and uncle having ever implied that they found Mei lacking in any way. It seemed this version of himself had simply made that assumption himself.

Tang rolled his eyes. He certainly knew how dangerous making assumptions could be. He needed more information to get a better conclusion.

“Luckily for Mei, I find her to be fun and do my best to act as a buffer between her and her parents. She introduced me to her friend MK back in my first year living here, and he quickly befriended me once I began sharing stories about the Monkey King with him. We all like to hang out at MK’s adoptive father’s noodle shop whenever we all have some free time.”

Tang smiled in relief. At least some things never changed.

“Right now, I should be making my way to the mansion’s training room for my daily workout before heading to my job at the city library.”

Tang blinked as he finally checked the time. 5:17 AM. Eurgh. He should not be feeling this energetic this early.

With a resigned sigh, Tang pulled out a set of exercise clothes from the ridiculously nice dresser and got dressed.

He had always heard exercising was a good way to help clear your head when you had a lot to think about. At least, that’s what a lot of martial arts fiction implied. He hoped that it worked the same in practice.

----------

Tang had never felt so in control of his own body before. The way it seemed to flow from one movement to the next as he began some warm up sets was extremely satisfying.

Just as satisfying was the fact that he was trained in martial arts in this timeline. He never had a real desire to fight, but just knowing how to defend himself was a bit reassuring with what he knew would be coming in the future.

He let his mind wander a bit as he let his muscle memory lead him through his pre-workout routine.

This cycle had broken Tang’s previously held conventions on what he had come to expect within these timelines. He had originally categorized them into five types.

The ones where there were no changes to the original timeline.

The ones where there were only small, relatively insignificant changes.

The ones where new events outside of the ones in the original timeline occurred.

The ones where he was the immortal Tripitaka instead of just his reincarnation.

Finally, there were the ones that combined any number of changes from the previous three types.

Tang moved on to a second, more difficult set as he pondered on this shift in perspective. It was obvious this was a new, sixth type of cycle he simply hadn’t encountered before. This one had completely rewritten his and Mei’s background, making huge alterations to their past that would surely affect the coming future events.

Tang felt a shiver of fear creep down his spine but kept his form steady.

Now that his personal history was almost completely unrecognizable, what did that mean for the “No Interference” rule? It didn’t seem to apply whenever Tang himself didn’t know what the outcome of events could be. So with him having an altered life, did that mean the outcomes of the events he knew of would have been altered as well? Could he get more involved than before now as he never knew what those outcomes would have been? Perhaps he couldn’t directly affect the outcomes, but surely he wouldn’t be punished for offering a bit of backup and support now that he could provide it.

Right?

He smoothly moved onto his final warm up set as another complication occurred to him.

This wouldn’t be the only cycle that would drastically change his and his family’s past. Like the other variants, now that he had experienced one, more would begin to show up with increasing frequency as time went on.

What worried Tang was that they would also share the unpredictability of the others. The vast amount of probable changes were too numerous to even begin guessing what might happen until a cycle began and he could remind himself of his history within it.

He supposed that there was nothing he could do about that until those cycles actually happened, so there was no real point in fretting over it now. He let his worries go as he finished his warm up and took a deep breath.

Tang felt good.

Better than good, actually, he felt energized. Charged up, so to speak. It was exhilarating.

With a grin, Tang focused on the part of himself that was dragon in origin. The energy that swirled within him was powerful; a strange mix of wild strength and immovable sturdiness.

He let warm power fill him as he held out his hand. In a flash of golden-yellow light, the young scholar summoned his family’s own sacred weapon to him. Tang examined it in awe.

Dàdì Zhī Yá.

Fang of the Earth.

It was a masterful work of art.

The magical guandao had been a gift to his ancestors from Huánglóng himself and, just like Mei’s Dragon Blade, seemed to be made entirely out of jade.

It wasn’t the same green jade however. It was made up of three other types of the precious mineral.

The intricately designed blade was a bright yellow jade, matching the color of the scales of its creator. The shaft of the weapon was a rich brown jade, symbolizing the element of Earth Huánglóng was associated with. Finally, the connector for the shaft and blade and the counter-weighted capstone at the butt of the shaft were a deep black jade. It was said to represent the color of ink as Huánglóng had supposedly gifted the knowledge of writing to mankind.

The only part of the weapon that wasn’t made of jade was the royal purple silk tassel that hung from the connecting piece near the blade. It complimented the earthy colors of the rest of the guandao rather nicely.

Tang took the weapon in both hands and got into the proper stance to begin his drills.

He had earned the right to wield the Fang of the Earth roughly six years ago according to his memories and had practiced diligently with it ever since.

Being chosen to be worthy of possessing it had forged a sort of connection between him and the guandao. Normally, the weight alone should have made it impossible for him to lift it, but the connection allowed him to hold it with little difficulty. He had still struggled a bit with how heavy it was despite that, but the years of training had helped him gain the strength and muscle to wield it with incredible precision and control.

Simply being able to pick it up wasn’t the only benefit to being connected to his family’s sacred weapon. It seemed to bond with the dragon energy within him, allowing the scholar to summon it to his side at will. The only drawback was that his hands had to be completely free to do so.

He wondered if the Dragon Blade worked similarly for Mei back in his original timeline.

Tang swung the guandao around skillfully, thinking about his cousin in this cycle.

Lóng Xiǎojiāo. Mei.

The young woman was an endless fountain of optimism and positivity. She had a passion for life and its experiences. Riding her motorcycle was just one of the ways she connected to her innermost self and channeled her enthusiasm for existence.

She was fiercely loyal to her friends and family. She may not be formally trained in a fighting style, but if you hurt her precious people you’d face her wrath.

Mei was generally cheerful and outgoing in most aspects of her life. The single exception had been her relation with her family and their legacy.

Tang frowned as he continued his drills.

In the original timeline, Mei had constantly been under the pressure to behave properly. At least she had until the Dragon Blade had been stolen and she unlocked its power. By embracing being a part of her family despite their differences and by being herself, she had become a worthy successor to her clan’s lineage.

But that was still four months away according to the current date. This was certainly the earliest he’d even woken up before the original events.

His presence here wasn’t helping matters. While he and Mei had become good friends, he couldn’t help but feel that she thought she was constantly being compared to him by her parents.

Again, he had no strong proof about whether that was the case in this cycle. It was just a suspicion he had.

Tang hummed to himself, trying to think of some way to fix this problem while slashing downwards with the Fang of the Earth.

He couldn’t do anything overt that could change things so that she accepted her place in her family too early. He was sure that violated the “No Interference” rule despite the changed history.

Perhaps he could try subtly raising Mei’s self confidence? But how could he go about doing that?

Tang twirled the guandao around him before ending his first set.

As he looked down at his own family’s legacy and heritage, he couldn’t help but think that learning to use the weapon had made him more sure of himself over the years.

Tang blinked.

Huh.

Perhaps he could use that.

He started into his next set of drills, already brainstorming about what he would need to make his plan work.

----------

Tang was certain his earlier suspicions about Mei’s parents were, thankfully, completely wrong. The dinners they shared as a family proved to him that they loved their daughter completely. They just didn’t see eye-to-eye on some things.

He was also able to get their permission and help with the idea he had. That showed how much they actually cared considering the things he had asked for weren’t something people only obsessed with their image and wealth would agree to.

It took nearly three weeks to prepare but he was finally ready.

“Uncle, do you remember that issue we discussed a few weeks ago,” he asked at dinner that evening.

“Oh, is it ready?”

“Yes Uncle.”

“Wonderful! Mei darling,” his uncle addressed the young woman, who eyed him warily.

“Yeah dad?”

“Tang here has come up with a bit of a surprise for you. Would you be willing to join him in the training room after dinner so that he may share it with you?”

“Uhh… I guess so,” Mei agreed hesitantly, glancing over at her older cousin.

“Don’t worry. It’s a good surprise,” Tang reassured.

“It’s also one we support and gave our full permission for,” Mei’s mother added. “Listen to what your cousin has to say and try not to dismiss it right away, dear.”

Tang winced a little as Mei glared down at her plate.

He clamped down at the growl that wanted to roll from his throat at the slightly tactless comment. Dragon instincts had been interesting to deal with these past few weeks. Especially the protective ones.

Dinner finished soon after and Tang led Mei to the training room.

“So what’s this big surprise you’ve got for me,” Mei asked, slouching as she looked around the room.

“Don’t sound too excited now,” Tang drawled as he pulled out a wrapped package.

“I don’t know. Something that has my parents' full support sounds soooo cool,” Mei snarked, earning a snort from the scholar.

“Trust me on this. You’ll like it,” Tang said, slowly unwrapping the item. “How would you like to learn how to wield a sword?”

“Wait, what?” Mei straightened her posture in surprise. She gasped when Tang finally unveiled what he was holding.

A replica of the Dragon Blade.

“Wha- But- How?!” Mei gaped at the sword. It wasn’t an exact copy, but it had the same dimensions as the original.

“Your parents allowed me to commission a copy of the Dragon Blade so that I can begin teaching you how to use it.”

That had been a bit of a hard sell. He had to agree to only go through a smith of their choice and all schematics of the blade had to be destroyed afterwards. But they had gone through with it, at least once he explained it was for Mei’s benefit.

Mei’s expression flickered between several emotions before settling on anger.

Uh oh.

“Oh I get it! This is because I’m ‘undisciplined’ isn’t it,” she bit out, a growl rising in her voice. “I need to be reined in! Taught how to be a dignified heir to the clan like you, right?!”

“No! That’s not-” Tang took a breath. He wouldn’t get through to her if he started yelling too. “That’s not what’s going on here, Mei.”

“Oh? Well it sure looks like it is to me!”

“Will you please let me explain?”

“Ugh!” Mei threw her arms in the air before crossing them and looking away in a huff. “Fine! But once you’re done I’m out of here.”

“That’s okay. No one said you had to go through with this if you didn’t want to,” he reassured. That seemed to make some of the tension ease out of her.

“First, this was my idea, not your parents’. The only thing I needed permission from them was to make this replica.

“As for why... I just wanted to spend more time with you is all.”

“Huh?” Mei looked up at the nervous scholar. “But we hang out all the time!”

“Yes, but that’s usually with MK as well. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Tang hastily added at her sudden glare. “I love the kid, really I do!

“But we don’t really do anything that’s just for the two of us. Since I enjoy training with a weapon, I thought it could be something we could share?”

Mei had her brows furrowed in uncertainty.

“But… Why go through the trouble of making a copy of the Dragon Blade then? Couldn’t you just teach me how to wield a guandao as well? That is the weapon you actually know how to use.”

“I suppose that’s a fair point,” Tang conceded. “But what about when you claim the real Dragon Blade for yourself? Shouldn’t you know how to properly use it when that happens?”

“When I-” Mei’s breath caught. “You think I-! I’m not-! My parents would never-!”

“Mei, Mei!” Tang placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. “Take a breath. In and out.”

The young woman took a few deep breaths, calming herself. Then she stared into Tang’s eyes, looking for any deception.

“Do you really think mom and dad would ever let me use the blade?”

“I’m not sure what they might do.” That was a slight lie, but he couldn’t force her into a realization about her family too early. He was pushing it as it was just by telling her he thought she’d get the blade.

“But I do know you. You’re optimistic. You’re funny. You’re loyal. You’re incredibly brave. I’m sure that just by being yourself everything will turn out.” That was not a lie. His cousin was all those things and he admired her for it.

Mei, who had tears in her eyes, launched herself at him and pulled him into a hug. Her grip was powered by her dragon strength, but luckily for Tang this time, he had his own so he wasn’t crushed in the embrace.

“Thank you Tang.”

“No problem, Mei.” He held her for a moment before pulling away and asked, “So does this mean you want to learn swordplay?”

“Heck yeah it does!” Mei pumped her fists into the air. “This is going to be awesome!”

“Good.” Tang gave a mischievous smirk. “Then I expect you to be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mei froze in her celebrations.

“Uh… How early, exactly” she asked nervously.

Tang’s grin was filled with too many fangs as his eyes sparkled with humor.

“5:30 sharp.”

“NOOOOOOOO!” Mei’s dramatic cry of horror and slump to the floor made Tang burst out in laughter.

Who knew teasing a younger relative could be so much fun?

----------

Tang grit his teeth as he slashed through another bull clone with Fang of the Earth.

It was finally the day of Demon Bull King’s invasion and the group had just returned from the volcanic ring where MK had seemed to perish. They were fighting their way through the army of bull clones in an attempt to get to the center of the city where Demon Bull King was.

What they were planning to do once they reached him, Tang still had no clue no matter how many timelines he lived through.

Tang dodged a strike from his left and countered with a quick sweep of his guandao.

There were definitely way more clones than there were originally. He supposed that this was whatever higher power that controlled the cycle's way of balancing out his ability to actually help out.

He dispatched the group of enemies surrounding him and looked around.

There was Pigsy who was beating away clones with a loose pipe. Sandy stood next to the chef, deflecting any attacks that came their way with two trash can lids. Where was-

Tang’s pulse quickened when he heard Mei scream.

He searched frantically, dodging or redirecting the strikes coming his way when-

There!

Mei was backed up against a building, surrounded by clones. She was holding a gash on her arm and the broken remains of her training sword lay at her feet.

She looked scared.

Tang could feel it as his eyes narrowed into slits and a menacing growl tore from his throat. With a roar of fury, he leapt into the air towards Mei.

He let his power loose, manifesting an avatar of his dragon form behind him as he filled the Fang of Earth with golden-yellow energy.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!”

He landed in front of Mei and shouted in rage as he stabbed the ground with the guandao. A shock wave of power spread through the earth around them, causing it to spike up to stab any clone it passed.

The energy dissipated once all the bull clones in the area had been destroyed. Satisfied they were safe for the moment, Tang swiftly turned around and began checking over Mei.

“Are you alright Mei?! What am I saying, of course you aren't! You’re bleeding! Let me see that.” The dragon scholar fussed over the young woman, inspecting the wound before tearing off the hem of his robe to serve as a bandage.

“Did… Did you just call me your sister?” Mei’s eyes were wide as she stared at him.

Tang froze for a moment. Had he?

Oh. He supposed he had.

Well that explained where the fondness and protective feelings he had developed for her over the course of their daily training came from.

Tang finished tying off the bandage before looking at Mei.

“Is… Is that okay,” he asked nervously. “Because if you aren’t okay with it I won’t call you that again- oof!”

He was cut off by Mei launching herself at him and hugging him tightly.

“Of course it's okay you goof!” He could hear her sniffles as she fought back tears.

“Oh! Well… That’s, uh, good,” Tang relaxed into the hug as his nervousness melted away.

Mei snickered and pulled away, giving him a blinding smile.

“Come on, big bro. We’ve got a city to save!”

Tang felt his own face light up as he picked up Fang of the Earth and followed his sister to regroup with Pigsy and Sandy.

He knew they were no match for Demon Bull King and would have to wait for MK’s arrival to defeat him, but right now Tang felt like he could take on anything.

----------

Tang grew accustomed to being able to help in fights. They had all been scaled up in scope so that while his support was useful, it was never the tipping point that could change the outcome into something different.

The cycle moved on swiftly.

He celebrated with Mei and her parents when she obtained ownership of the real Dragon Blade.

He fought in their resistance when the Demon Bull King invaded a second time.

He did his best to be there for MK when the signs of his stress began to show.

All too soon, the day of training in the desert came.

Lady Bone Demon’s attack was just as brutal as ever.

However, when he and the rest of the group jumped to attack her once MK got caught, Tang instinctively dodged out of the way of her retaliation.

Before he could think of the potential consequences of attempting to change the outcome, he began to slash downwards with the Fang of the Earth.

Only to be stopped dead in the air when the Mayor grabbed the blade with no effort.

Tang felt dread crawl up his spine as the demon smiled nonchalantly at him. Flashbacks to that early cycle triggered in his mind, causing him to freeze up.

The Mayor casually ripped the guandao from Tang’s loose grasp, tossing it over his shoulder like a discarded piece of trash. Then he punched the dragon scholar with enough force to launch him back onto the ship.

Tang could only assume the events continued as normal from there.

He was too busy having a panic attack to notice.

Years of training and experience and still he was powerless against that man! He vaguely acknowledged he had started to cry at some point.

“Tang! Big brother! It’s okay. He’s gone. We got away.” Mei was holding him as he sobbed.

“M-mei?”

“I’m here, big brother. We’re safe.”

Tang began to breathe deeply in order to calm himself. He wanted to be composed when Wukong showed up with MK so as not to worry them too much.

He hugged Mei fiercely before pulling away.

“T-thanks, little sister,” he said with a shaky smile. She just smiled back and helped him to his feet.

As he leaned against the younger woman, Tang couldn’t help but feel extremely lucky to have gotten to know her like this.

She was fierce, loyal, brave, and kind.

She was the best sister someone could have ever asked for.

----------

Welcome to the Golden Dragon Tang AU!

This is my own personal creation, and most of the prominent details (minus Tang knowing the future from timeline jumping) are laid out in this chapter. If I got any of the details about the Yellow Dragon wrong I apologize! I'm not a mythology expert.

A guandao is basically the Chinese equivalent of a glaive; a short sword mounted on a 1-2 meter pole. I may get around to drawing Fang of the Earth at some point. Also please forgive me if the Chinese for the name is wrong for I am but a humble google translate user.

In case you haven’t noticed, a few of the chapters have been dedicated strictly to character studies of the other members of the Monkie Kid crew through Tang’s perspective. Mei’s just happened to occur at the same time as my really long debut of the cool AU I had made up! Also does anyone have some good fanon names for Mei’s parents? I was dying never referring to them by name.

And yes, Tang does still have some issues with the Mayor. I’m sure that won’t be too relevant in the future.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought and see you next time!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Golden Dragon Tang AU #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #Mei #Lóng Xiǎojiāo #Mei's Parents #MK #Pigsy #Sandy #Demon Bull King #The Mayor #Sun Wukong

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Runaway: Daniel Michaelson’s Story

CW: Threats involving guns stuck in bad places (NOT THERE), dehumanizing language, pet whump, conditioning, brainwashing, POV of heavily conditioned, hopeless whumpee/caretaker, muzzling, noncon touching, referenced noncon

Tagging Danny’s people:  @slytherynjolras, @whump-it, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @spiffythespook, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya,

NOTE: This takes place approximately four months after Danny is abducted.

Nate loved Casablanca the best out of all the movies the body had left behind when Bram brought them here to stay. Not because of the actors, really, or even the filmmaking. 

He loved it because of Danny.

Danny knew all the lines by now, and he would say them along with the actors, mimicking their old-fashioned accents as he sat next to him on the couch after midnight, the two of them brushing against each other, trying to laugh in whispers at the same jokes over and over, and sometimes Nate put an arm around him and he leaned into it, and it almost felt normal.

Normal except for the deep red scars that dipped across the bridge of Danny’s nose and  notched into the sides of his jaw from the metal thing that Bram had fixed onto him after Danny called him a rapist to his face. Normal except for the bandages, the bruising, the bleeding that went on day by day, every time Danny failed to answer to Red or didn’t beg the right way or on his strongest days, refused to beg at all.

Nate, Bram loved - but there was no love with Danny. Only a cold, implacable, unpredictable violence. The only affection Bram showed the redhead was laced with reminders that he was less than, with the simple fact that Danny was, in Bram’s eyes, just the puppy - a glorified walking corpse. Danny maybe hadn’t understood that until the thing went on his face and he didn’t talk for two weeks, because he couldn’t, because Bram would not let him until he learned to behave.

Nate understood it. Bram was building a family, sort of, for as long as he allowed Danny to live. And Nate could only sit to the side, drowning in Bram’s eyes, and let the pain and degradation happen and pray that he could do enough to keep Danny together in the spaces between.

Life was normal - as much as living like this could be - except for the misery and anger that haunted Danny, dogged his every move, burned in his long silences and the way he froze up or spat bitterness every time Bram touched him, not smart enough to learn to lean into it, to fake it, to just go along to make it easier on himself. Not smart enough, or just not willing to watch himself turn into what Nate already was.

Danny was a ball of anger and unhappiness. All of that, and Danny’s righteous sense that there was supposed to be a better place, a better life, than this for the both of them… they were all feelings that Nate simply couldn’t access any longer.

Not since Bram had thrown Danny into the trunk of his own car. Not since he’d covered the backseat of that car with blood and left it in a ditch on the side of a highway. Not since… not since Bram had decided to keep Danny rather than kill him. 

What Danny didn’t understand, no matter how many times Nate tried to explain it, was that there was life before he had been chosen, and life after, and there was nothing else.

There is no life but Abraham. 

Danny didn’t know that yet, but… he would. He was already learning the rules, rules Nate already knew and other rules, too. He didn’t believe them, yet, but he would. Once the rules had crowded out all the room he had to believe anything else. 

Nate was cracked inside his head, now, and he knew it. He’d tried to pretend he wasn’t, when he was on the run, but life with Bram and Ashley had ruined him before he’d ever found the courage, just that once, to escape. He was even worse now. He flinched at loud noises and stuttered until he could barely be understood. He was everything Bram wanted in bed and never said no (he’d had never listened anyway), and who else could love someone who had let himself be rewritten so thoroughly?

In the life before Bram, he’d been stoic and dry-witted and a parade of one-liners, someone whose coworkers were never sure whether or not he was making a joke. Here, four and a half years since they had found him in a bar and decided to destroy his life, he was quiet, and if he looked into Bram’s eyes enough he was happy, and who could ever love someone like that?

Sometimes Danny looked at him with empty eyes, spent whole days curled up on his mat staring at nothing or worked hard on Bram's project of the day in total silence... or just looked down and nodded when Bram called him a good boy… and he wondered how much of Danny was even left. Enough to fight, sure, but even the fighting was a little bit less each day. 

It was okay. This was just Danny’s life now, and if he learned to accept it, he could start to feel better after that, to be happy again. He just had to know that this was his life now.

One morning, Nate woke up beside Bram with the sun shining brightly through the window, the air cool and crisp inside the cabin, chillier outside. Mid-morning, but that was normal. Bram slept late and Nate usually did, too, unless Bram had a project that would take long enough that an early wake up was needed.

Danny was always up before everyone else - at sunrise or even earlier, no matter how late they were up the night before. Especially as the weather had gotten colder - the leaves were brightly colored and falling off the trees in droves, making any trip into the woods to check on traps an exercise in crunching through underbrush. As it got colder outside, it was colder inside, and Nate watched Danny begin to shiver, day by day, the thin clothing Bram allowed him never, ever enough.

Nate woke up thinking of Danny, nearly every morning, and today was no exception. He stretched lazily, let a still-half-asleep Bram kiss him without complaint, and pulled on a loose pair of flannel pajama pants. He wandered out into the living room to find he didn't smell the usual fresh pot of coffee.

Coffee was one of Danny's jobs, and it was the only one he didn't resent, that he liked doing. They’d moved the coffeemaker into the living room so Danny could reach it on his chain, filling the coffeepot with water from the bathroom sink and measuring out the grounds in there, brewing it strong, the way Bram liked it. 

Today, though… nothing.

"Dan-… Red?" Damn. If he forgot to use the right name, Bram would get angry. He had to get better at it, but he always stumbled, because he was trying so hard to remember he was Danny inside his head. 

The mat next to the couch was empty, the blankets were gone, and Danny's chain was lying across the floor with no Danny at the end of it. Nate stared down at a single broken link on the end. He'd found a weak spot, Nate thought, an actual honest-to-God weak link in the chain. His heart dropped to his knees and then jumped back into his throat as he looked over to the kitchen and saw the inside door was still standing open, the screen door cracked.

No. No no no no.

Don't leave me, he thought helplessly. I need someone with me, don't make me love him alone. God damn it, Danny, don't leave me here without you, I need you here with me, I need you here. You’re supposed to be with us now.

Something in the back of his mind tried to tell him this wasn’t the right way to respond, but he had buried the part of himself that thought things like that, and it wasn’t a very loud voice any longer. 

"B-Bram, come out! C-c-c… c-c-cuh… damn it! Fuck! B-B-B-… Bram!”

Bram came stumbling out, and as Nate spun around he could see the genuine worry for him in his eyes, worry that he might be hurt, that Nate needed help - whatever Bram would consider ‘help’, at least. “What is it, Nate?” 

Bram’s eyes lit on the mat, and the chain, and the total lack of a Danny where a Danny was supposed to be. “Ah.” 

Bram stilled suddenly, and Nate took a step away from him as all the humanity and gentle affection and love he wore like a mask simply dropped off of him, like he’d shaken off snow. He stood like a predator. 

I’m just the luckiest kind of prey, Nate thought, and his vision was growing pale and foggy around the edges as he breathed in shallow, gasping pants.

Bram continued to stare down at the empty mat. “Puppy’s gone.”

“Y-y-yes, he’s g-g-gone, he r-ran away. He’s g-g-gone, he’s gone, he-” Nate’s hands went up to his hair, digging fingers into the black until it hurt, trying to calm his racing heart. Don’t leave me I can’t live without you. I can’t do this by myself all alone again, I can’t be his alone again. “He weh-... went into the w-w-woods, the woods, there are things in the woods, Bram-”

“Ssshhhhh,” Bram soothed, stepping over to him, putting his hands on either side of Nate’s face, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, gently. “Put your hands down.”

“B-Bram-” He dug his fingers in tighter. “Bram, h-he’ll die-”

“I said put your fucking hands down.”

Nate’s hands dropped immediately out of his hair and down to his sides.

“Breathe. In and out, Nate. In and out.” He followed Bram’s orders, he always followed the orders now, and felt his breath slowing down, getting deeper, almer. “Sssshhhh, calm down, baby,” Bram continued, his voice gentle and sweet. None of the predator here, none of the inhuman calculation behind blue eyes. “Calm down. It’s okay. I'm worse than anything out there, I've got you. You belong to me, nothing out there would dare touch anything that’s mine." One cold hand slid around behind his neck, rubbing gently, and Nate felt his heart start to slow under the touch, leaning forward until his head dropped onto Bram’s shoulder.

“He d-doesn’t kn-... know how to l-l-live in the w-woods,” He said softly, lips barely moving. Bram’s shoulder was cold, but he was always cold, more like a reptile than a man. "He'll d-die out there."

The cold felt good against skin heated with fear. 

No one’s going to hear him. No one’s going to hear him screaming for help. No one. Not even us.

“I know he doesn’t,” Bram replied, still rubbing at the back of his neck with his knuckles in a gentle motion, back and forth, up and down. “I know that, I don’t want him to know. Don’t worry, okay? I’ve been tracking game since I was eight years old, and he’s going to leave a trail as wide as an elephant’s. He won’t go far.”

“So you’ll g-g-go… go find him?” He could feel his throat finally relaxing, the stammer starting to settle. “You’ll b-bring him back? Back to me?"

“We’ll find him, baby,” Bram said softly. “Don't you worry about him. I don’t let dogs run away from me.”

“He’s not a d-d-d-duh… a dog, Bram.” He never stood up for himself any longer, only rarely stood up for Danny, but this… he had to try. He lifted his head, briefly meeting Bram’s eyes, trying to steel himself against the possibility that Bram would be angry. “He’s not a dog,” He said as firmly as he could, proud of himself when his voice was deep and solid and strong. “He’s m-my friend, h-he-... he’s part of us.”

“Okay,” Bram said softly, barely flickering an eyelid. Letting it go, for now, if not forever. “But he’s a very bad Red, isn’t he? He’s misbehaved, hasn’t he? He tried to leave you, baby, how dare he leave you.” Nate just let his head drop back down, unwilling to say the words, to play along with this game. “We’ll find him,” Bram repeated. “We’ll find him and we’ll bring him back home where he belongs.” 

Nate nodded, letting his fingers curl into Bram’s shirt, because he liked when he did that, he had always liked when Nate initiated affection. Some of the old disgust threatened to rise in him, the old loathing of them that he had tried so hard to hold onto. These days, though, most of that disgust and loathing he turned on himself, because if he didn’t love Bram, why even stay alive?

“Th-thank you,” He said quietly. “I love you. I-I want him back.”

Please, I just don’t want him to die.

“I know,” Bram said, and kissed into his hair at the top of his head. “I’ll get him back for you, Nate. Don’t worry.”

It was the wrong thing to think, the wrong way to look at it, but he had been with Bram a very long time, and he was tired and lonely and his mind was a constant nonstop loop of muffled screaming, and Danny was the only thing that ever made him feel anything else. 

“Th-thank you.”

 “You’re welcome,” Bram murmured. He pulled back and away then, and there was a cold smile on his face that Nate knew very well. “Let’s give him three days.”

“Th-three days? We’re n-n-not going im-im-im, im… right away?”

“Oh, no, that’s no fun. Three days is perfect. There's a cold front coming in tonight. He’ll be freezing and fucking starving by then. You and I will go find him, we'll split up and I’ll give you a good head start. If you find him first, I’ll let him live, okay, baby? Just for you. If I find him, I’ll fucking choke him to death and let him rot and grow mushrooms if he wants to be in the woods so badly."

Nate’s heart pounded again and he stared at the glacial eyes in the pale face and watched the movements of the darker things that lived behind them. He nodded, slowly. Bram had taught him how to track, how to find the trail of game and keep going until he found what he was looking for. It’d been a while, but… but he didn’t have a choice. 

“Th-thank you,” He said again, and the words dropped like stones. 

Bram looked at him, all but glowing with excitement. “Let’s have some coffee, Nate. I want to go over all the basics with you so this is at least a fair competition. I haven’t done this in so long, a competition for hunting someone. Not since…” Bram’s words trailed off, and a flicker of pain and grief was in his face. “Not since Ashley.”

Nate remembered. Ashley had games she liked to play, and one of them had been to bring a body conscious and kicking to a spot in the woods just outside the town in Tennessee, close to the mountains. They would set the body free, make a bet on who would catch them first, and hunt them down, the two of them cackling like demons while Nate stayed trapped in the house, waiting for them to come back arguing over who had truly won.

Bram was nearly crackling, like lightning brought to life, and Nate found it hard to look away. It had been so long, and Danny had given him the opportunity to go on a hunt, and Bram had always looked so good before a hunt - Nate had only seen him go out with Ashly a few times, but all the restless energy in him that turned to anger or the itch was smoothed out when he did, because it was only a matter of time before he walked the woods and ran the injured animal down.

Nate understood his own pain was a pale shadow of the ecstasy Bram and Ashley could take from those final moments of miserable fear.

But Bram loved him, anyway.

Nate moved over to the coffeemaker, staring blankly as his hands went through the automatic motion of adding coffee grounds to the filter, pouring in the water, and pressing the button to brew. 

I have to find him first.

---

In the end, he did.

He'd glanced back at Bram before he left, in heavy jeans and a flannel over his shirt, a hat pulled down low to cover his ears against the cold. Abraham Denner was just visible through the kitchen window, watching him while he sipped his coffee. The other man smiled at him, and he shivered.

I hate you, you fucking monster, you stole my life - and his. I hate you so fucking much.

He could still hate him. Not for long, but it was still in there. It just got swallowed up by the voice in his ear and the flat ice in his eyes.

Who would even love Red but us now, baby?

Those were Bram’s thoughts, the things he said sometimes when they were in bed and Danny was out on his mat sleeping in the living room, and Bram would murmur, I’ve fucked him up too much for anyone else, just the way we did to you. Remade him. Who would want him with muzzle scars on his face? 

I think they won't know what they are. It was a struggle to fight the disgust and the cold, clean hatred that tried to well up when Bram said the word, the name of the thing, the thing he never ever named. 

He'd have to tell them eventually. I'd pay good money to see the face of whatever body he tries to bring home when he has to explain where they came from.

He wouldn't tell them. He'd lie. He could still-

Could he? Bram chuckled, rolling into his side, letting fingers trail along Nate's shoulder and down his ribcage, over one hip. Could you still, after me, with anyone else?

He wanted to say yes. Instead, he thought of how even with Danny he hadn’t been entirely sure he was going to be able to do much that night he’d invited him over, and shook his head.

That's right. He's ours now. Now he knows that I’m in his head and marked on his body. Who would want him when he doesn’t know any other way to be but ours, the way he is now?

How is h-he, right n-n-now, to you? Nate closed his eyes, shifting in the bed as Bram's hand found its way across his abdomen, and slowly moved down. 

Half-broken and nearly feral for it, Bram said thoughtfully. If they found him tomorrow, those bodies he belonged to before, they would still know him. But not for long.

Nate had thought of the difference between the angry, hilarious, fucking funny man he’d started flirting with, and the quiet, withdrawn redhead that sat on the mat staring off into space.

He’d been a little shy before, although he had been eager enough when Nate had suggested he come over that night. Now he flinched every single time Bram touched him… but had learned to let his chin be tilted up for the kiss, to open his mouth when ordered, and he knew better than to try and stop it, any of it, no matter how violent Bram was.

He’d been shoved into the trunk still spitting curses, but after weeks in the thing - after months in the woods - he kept them mostly locked behind his teeth now. 

He’d grown up with staff and a cook - Mrs. Verona or something, which seemed like a weird Shakespeare reference more than a name to Nate - who did everything for him. Now he forced his hands into scalding water when cleaning without a word until they were so red he couldn’t stand to touch anything for hours afterward. He scrubbed the bathroom until it was cleaner than it had been when they’d moved in, he moved unconsciously around the kitchen picking up their dishes to wash after dinner. He’d burned himself on the oven once when he was still learning how to cook and hadn’t said anything until Bram had noticed the infected spot on his arm days later, and even then he’d tried to refuse the bandage and antiseptic.

No, Nate had said, quietly. N-no, I don’t think they w-w-w-would recognize him now.

Good. Bram had smiled, nearly asleep. I don’t want them to. I want him to be with us, a part of our family, our little Red. Yours and mine both - just like you were mine and Ashley’s.

Yours and mine, Nate echoed, and was frightened when he didn’t stammer or even feel anything but a vague relief at the idea that at least he got to have someone, too. 

He was losing his fucking mind.

As soon as he stepped into the woods at the edge of the clearing, he had a two-hour head start. If Bram found Danny, he was dead. If Nate found Danny, he would be brought back here, chained back up, back in captivity and back in hell.

 But he'd be here, with Nate, where he belonged.

For just a minute, he had hesitated, torn between what was probably the right thing - to refuse to chase Danny down like a runaway dog, even though Bram was probably right that he wouldn't last long by himself - and what he wanted - Danny here on the couch to watch movies with and cook dinner and, when he forgot he was miserable, to laugh with him.

No. There was no life before Bram. There was no life after. There was only now.

Finally, Nate had started walking, looking for the telltale scuffs, broken twigs, and disturbed underbrush Danny had left behind. Three days of placid windless sun and increasingly chill nights hadn't wiped any of it clean. He felt like he was an hour behind Danny, not three days. 

He even found a wavy red hair caught at Danny's height in a tree. When he went up on his toes to tug it out, he heard a strange sound and looked up - to see a white raven sitting on a tree branch twenty feet ahead.

It watched him with strange pinkish eyes, and Nate shuddered at the feel of something crawling up and down his skin. Then he caught sight of a bit of torn cloth further away, and when he looked back the white raven was gone. 

He crouched down to look at the bit of soft fleece caught in the bush. Red and black plaid - one of Danny’s blankets, his favorite, the one he always kept pulled the furthest up so it brushed his chin while he slept. It’d been Danny’s present for the first month he’d spent with them - Bram always knew the days, tracked the time, long after Nate had stopped knowing anything beyond whether or not the sun was up. He’d given Danny the blanket, and when he hadn’t said thank you, there had been-

No. He wasn’t going to think about what had happened every time Danny didn’t say ‘thank you’ for a gift. He wasn’t going to think about it, because he loved Bram, and he loved Danny, and he had to love them both or everything would collapse here into the reality that he was standing by doing nothing while Danny was slowly destroyed.

It would collapse under the weight of having to admit he loved Daniel Michaelson and even with that, could not save him.

Nate looked up.

He saw the raven again, further away, watching him. He had a wild, irrational thought that it was trying to lead him to Danny. It made no sense, it was just a fucking bird, but… he stood and walked after it, anyway.

It took hours. Morning turned to day turned to afternoon and Nate's neck began to prickle with nervousness. He ate a granola bar, drank some water from the metal bottle in his backpack. He'd be out here after dark at this rate, even if he did find him first. They'd be alone, in the dark, in the woods.

It was evening by the time he caught up with his trail - a trail that he thought had been moving slower and slower as time went by. Danny had no sense of direction and had even begun to circle back towards the cabin without realizing it. It was dark enough that he had his flashlight in one hand, not on yet but ready to use. The white raven was still just ahead, and he was starting to hurt, from having been on the move all day.

He would never leave Bram Denner again; he was tired of losing things whenever he tried.

In the dark, with his legs burning and the trees around him like silent gods, it felt strange here, almost like he’d gone back in time or space to something much darker. His heart pounded, half-convinced he'd turn a corner and see something his eyes could not explain.

"Fuck!" He heard from somewhere ahead of him, a hoarse half-whisper that carried through the twilight-silent woods. "Get off me!"

He looked around, realizing the white raven was gone, and stumbled forward, using the trunks of trees around him for balance, heart pounding. Where was he? What was real? Bram was real. The cabin was real. Danny was real.

He came around a stand of trees to a small clearing, hardly even worth calling that, with a fairy ring of mushrooms off to one side and… Danny.

Danny was very real, and he'd stepped right into one of Bram's goddamn animal traps, and the white raven was currently yanking on his hair as hard as it could with its beak while Danny swatted at it ineffectually. “Get the fuck off me! Where the fuck did you come from, you piece of shit?!”

“H-how did you even m-m-manage…” Nate said, and Danny jumped nearly a foot in the air from surprise - or he would have, if he didn’t have one leg still stuck in the trap. The raven fluttered back up into a nearby branch and sat, watching them. Pink eyes seemed almost to glow in the dark. “You couldn’t s-see the tr-... trap?”

There were sticks stuck in his red hair and smudges of dirt on his pale face, and that was a familiar sight. Danny didn’t look frightened, though. He looked furious.

Nate flicked the flashlight on and Danny winced away from the bright light. He was wrapped in the black-and-red plaid fleece blanket over a blue T-shirt that said be nice to me, I’m still learning. 

Bram had thought that was hilarious, bringing it back from a supply run after special-ordering it, forcing Danny to thank him for the gift while he kept one hand in his hair, running slowly through as Danny shook with anger and stared down at the floor.

Nate had had to leave the room, pretending he needed a nap, when Bram began to graze his knuckles across the back of Danny's neck, murmuring “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Nate had barely been able to hold the scream back behind his teeth and Bram had looked up to smile at him and he knew-

“I-I think I b-broke my leg,” Danny said in a thin, strained voice, pulling his mind back to the present. Nate moved over to look, head tilted.

“Probably not,” Nate said, noticing his own lack of stammer in a distant kind of way. He always had stammered less or not at all when he was truly alone with Danny, just the two of them. He tried to crouch, but his left knee protested at any attempt to bend it, and so finally he just shrugged and bent himself over as best he could, using the flashlight to take a better look. “Bear traps are m-made for bear legs, not people, and I th-th-think it’s just got you held, not b-broken. Bram wanted to see if he could make b-b-bear oil but he hasn’t c-c-caught one yet… Probably it broke the skin and you h-have one hell of a bone bruise.” 

“Bone bruise? Is that a thing? H-how do you kn-know all that?” Danny asked. Nate gently pushed some of the torn cloth from Danny’s pants away, and noticed his skin was damp and frigid to the touch as he hissed at the slightest brush of Nate’s fingertips against the bruising skin. Danny was shivering so hard the chain attached to the trap rattled a little.

“Ashley and B-Bram taught me about traps,” Nate said simply. “Danny, you’re freezing. Wh-when did you step into this?”

“Yesterday? Last night? It was already dark, I couldn’t see it, he’d put leaves on it.” Danny looked down, frowning, teeth chattering. His lips were a little blue-gray in his very pale face, and there was an odd glitter to his warm blue eyes. As the sun went down the warmth fled the forest, and the chill air prickled along his skin. “I think yesterday. I ran out of water yesterday, too.”

“Dumbass. You’re s-s-such a f-fucking dumbass,” Nate said, voice laced with affection, and he was smiling as he pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack and handed it over. Danny drank half of it in one go, and his stomach growled audibly. “Did you even bring any f-food?”

“A little. Not enough.”

“What was y-your fucking plan, R-... Danny?”

“I thought he was l-lying about his neighbors. I thought maybe if I got far enough-”

“This is C-Canada, Danny. Northern Al, Alberta or s-s-something. There’s n-n-no one around us for fifteen m-miles at least.” Bram had wanted to come here for the wilderness, the isolation. Space and time to make him perfect for you, Nate.

“You have to g-go back,” Nate said softly, and let himself thump into the dirt with one knee pulled up to his chest and the bad knee straight out, frowning down at the trap. He carefully placed his hands on either side, gritting his teeth as his right hand protested at the pressure grinding all the wrongly-healed bones against each other. He slowly began to push the jaws of the trap apart, groaning at the pain, but finally it moved enough that Danny could grab onto his leg with both hands and pull it out, hissing as Nate let go and the trap clamped shut - this time on thin air. “You know th-that, right? You won’t g-g-get far, and you h-have to go back home.”

“It’s not my fucking home. It’s a cage. But… I know,” Danny said, and finally something other than anger was in his face. He whispered the words, and there was a moment where they both just sat still, neither one looking at the other, and Danny showed nothing but despair and a dawning resignation. “I just saw that the chain could break, and… and I-I didn’t think it through-”

“No,” said a cheerfully smug voice just behind Nate. Both of them froze immediately, eyes meeting in a flicker of panic they shared. “You sure as fuck didn’t, Red.”

Bram.

Nate swallowed hard, terrified of what might happen now but deeply relieved that he wouldn’t have to recreate the horrifying walk back through the forest with just Danny. Bram was right - he was far more terrifying than anything that could find them here. “I-I f-f-found him first, Bram,” Nate said softly, not quite defensively. “You s-said-”

“So you did,” Bram said, pride ringing in his voice. “I knew you could do it. Although to be honest, I never tried to track Red. I’ve been tracking you.”

“Y-you have?” Nate turned to look back over his shoulder, and Bram at night in the woods looked more like a spirit than a person. Deceptively slim, with that strange, unearthly beautiful pale face that had been nearly identical to his sister’s. The very slightly upturned blue eyes glowed in the light from Nate’s flashlight, reflected it almost like a cat. He’d let his hair grow a little since they came here, and Nate sometimes caught himself reaching out to touch the slight wave in the white-blonde hair. He was holding a gun in one hand. “You were f-f-following… me?”

“Yeah, baby. I was never going to hunt him. I just wanted to see if you passed the test. You did. I’m so proud of you.” Those pale eyes, warm when they looked at him, went colder as they slid over to look down at Danny. “You, on the other hand… I'm very disappointed in you."

“B-Bram-” Nate said, eyes on the dark metal in the last of the remaining light, Bram holding the gun loosely and casually, as though he walked around like this every day. “D-don’t sh-sh-shoot-”

“You found him first,” Bram said, turning that sweetness on him. Nate felt himself relax, almost automatically - Bram wanted to see him relax, to see the effect of his mood. To see that they were so controlled by him. “What was our deal?”

“I-If I found him f-f-fuh… first, he gets to l-live,” Nate said, and hated himself for the knowledge that he once would have said it strongly, but now it was mostly tremulous hope. Because he didn't know - Bram without Ashley was an Bram with only Nate for an anchor, a rudder, and he could never be to him what Ashley had been. 

“That’s right,” Bram said amiably. “And you did. So I guess, you bad dog," He said to Danny, "this is your lucky day.”

“H-he’s not a-”

“Shut up, Nate.”

Nate's mouth snapped shut and he looked down, letting Bram run fingers over the top of his hair, shivering a little at his touch, not unpleasantly. 

"That's what I thought," Bram said quietly. "The problem here is that the two of you forget, sometimes, that we belong together. Red stays, he stays forever. We belong together forever. All three of us. Until we die. Well. Until Red does, anyway.”

Danny had gone very still, as he usually did when Bram looked directly at him or said things like that, sitting on the ground with his injured leg pulled up to his chest, still shaking in the cold air. Probably too tired from not sleeping and weak from not eating to even try to run, Nate thought, not that he would have gotten far. Bram had told him once that he learned to run by wearing down injured deer following them for hours without stopping until they bled enough to collapse. Danny was a skinny city puppy who'd spent four months chained to walls. He couldn't go any further than a hunter wanted him to go.

Bram moved over to him, going right past Nate to slowly lower himself to Danny’s level, head tilted, as though he were looking at a particularly troublesome rodent.

“You ran away from me,” Bram said, thoughtfully. Danny didn’t look at him, his eyes fixed down and off to the side. “Why would you go and do a thing like that, hm? I’ve been good to you, little Red.” He reached out, laying his hand against Danny’s face. 

"Fuck you," Danny spat. When the younger man tried to jerk his head away, the hand with the gun twitched, a little. 

Bram takes, softly. “Language, Red. You don’t pull away from me. I’ve been nice to you and I’m not going to be nice again. So you’re going to hold still for me, and shut your fucking whore mouth.”

“Bram,” Nate said, reaching out a hand. "Please-"

 “Quiet."

 Danny went still again, and Bram let the hand slide back and around, burying his fingers into the dirty red hair, jerking Danny’s head back to look at him. "What made you think you get to run off, puppy, eh?"

"I'm not your goddamn-"

"P-please don't s-s-say it," Nate said, stomach flipping with nausea and fear. "He doesn’t l-l-like it when you say y-you're not…"

“Yes you are," Bram said as if Nate hadn't spoken. "You’re part of our family. You and I have a good time, don't we?"

Danny shook his head rapidly, swallowing disgust. 

"Hm. Maybe not from your perspective. You just need a reminder that there are three of us here, and you’re never leaving me. Nate got lots of reminders before I fixed him, Red. What was your favorite, baby?"

"My wh-what?" His head was pounding, so loud he could barely hear Bram at all. The rush of his own blood in his ears was too loud. Danny still didn't look up, frozen under Bram's stare, his hand.

"Your favorite reminder of what you are."

"Oh. I, uh- um… th-the, the, uh, the t-time with my, my r-ribs…" It was the only thing he could think of. Bram’s blade slipping into his skin.

"Mmmn, I liked that one, too. Good choice. So what should we give you, Red?"

"I… I don't know," Danny mumbled. "Do whatever you want, you fucking psycho."

"Oh, I will. What’s your name?” Bram asked, in a low, soft lover’s voice. “What’s your name, puppy? Tell me your name.”

“Danny M-Michaelson,” Danny said, but he made the mistake of looking up into Bram’s eyes and got caught there, the way Nate sometimes did when he was angry, when you got to see the animal that sat behind the man’s face. His warmer blue eyes widened, lost in the fury and hate and distance in Bram.

“I’ll give you one more shot,” Bram murmured, circling his fingers along Danny’s scalp, gentle, soothing. Danny’s shaking was getting worse, but Nate didn’t think it was from the cold this time. “What. Is. Your. Name.”

Danny swallowed, and when Bram leaned in closer to his face, he flinched, breaking eye contact, curling in on himself. “My n-name is Red,” He said quietly, forcing the words out. 

“Say it.” Bram leaned in even more, just a little closer, slowly pushing the barrel of the gun into the bloody, bruising wound on Danny's leg.

The redhead hissed through his teeth, whimpering in pain, but he didn't pull away. Smart, smart. Nate stared at the two of them, afraid to move, afraid if he broke the moment Bram might change his mind and decide Danny didn’t get to live, after all. 

“Introduce yourself to me, like we’re just meeting on the street. ‘Hi, my name is Red, and I belong to Abraham Denner.’”

“N-no,” Danny shook his head, but the hand gripped back into his hair and he went still again, swallowing hard. “I-I don’t w-w-want to-”

The gun pushed harder into his leg and the whimpering became a cry, bouncing around the trees, swallowed up by them like Bram had swallowed up Danny’s entire life.

“I don’t care about what you want. Ask Nate, he can tell you that what you want doesn’t mean anything to me. I will make you what I want, and I don’t care how long it takes. I will fix you and when you’re done you will die like the rest. So. Introduce yourself to me, or I will cut off every single finger on your right hand and make you toss them in the fireplace yourself. Do you like your right hand, Red? Are you… attached to it?”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder, smiling like a little boy who had done a trick. "Good pun, right?"

Nate nodded quickly. "G-good," He said weakly.

Bram turned back to Danny. "So?"

“Just do it,” Nate whispered. “Just d-d-do what he w-w-wuh-... wants.”

“Everything I do is what he wants, now.” Danny had tears standing in his eyes, and he curled his right hand against his chest. “Everything I do is what he wants.”

Welcome to my life, Danny.

“Not true,” Bram said, in the tone of two men having a reasonable, rational disagreement. “You do what Nate wants, too. Would that be easier for you? ‘Hi, my name is Red, and I belong to Nathaniel Vandrum.’ That’s easy enough, isn’t it?" He let go of the younger man's hair, let his hand drift down to grab Danny's, forcing him to open it back up, running his fingertips over Danny's knuckles, fingernails, palm. 

"Don't touch me," Danny said, voice wavering, but he didn't pull his hand back.

"I’m going to count to five, and if I get to five and you haven’t said it, you lose five fingers." He smiled, playfully tapping each of Danny's fingers in turn. "One-two-three-four-five, little body. Then I’ll count to ten, and take a hand. Then I’ll count to-”

“I-I’ll do it.” Danny spat the words, and there was still defiance in his voice, in his eyes. There was still fight there. He buried it under submission but Nate still saw it - and if he did, so did Bram. "I will, just, just give me a fucking second… I will."

Nate closed his eyes, curling his left hand into a fist. Come home with us. There was a moment of awful silence.

“H-Hi,” Danny stammered, and Bram held onto his hand, the three of them sitting in the final dregs of twilight. He didn't move the gun, not yet. “Hi, m-m-my name is… is… fuck-”

“No, that’s what you’re going to do for us, not who you are,” Bram teased, and Danny let out a broken half-choked sob, nodding as much as Bram would let him, gathering himself back together. “Take a moment, puppy. Take a few deep breaths. Easy, Red. Easy. It's okay, we've got you. In… hold for five… out… in… hold for five… out…”

Danny breathed as ordered, and when he nodded again, it was slower. “I-I’m ready, Abraham.”

“Good, good, there's a good boy. Now try again."

“Hi,” He started again, voice breathy but calmer, his hands in fists and Nate could tell even with just the light of the flashlight that his face was flushed red. There were tear tracks marking through the dirt smudges on his angry, desperate face and the forest loomed around them.

I love him, Nate thought. I love them both. He has rewritten me. We're the only people who could love each other now. I’m a fucking monster, too.

“Hi,” Danny repeated, a little hopelessly. “My name is R-Red, and I b… I belong to Nate…”

“To Nate…?” Bram prodded.

“I belong to Nate Vandrum,” Danny finished in a whisper. Nate’s body burned with shame. “My name is Red. It's Red."

“Good boy. That’s better. Now say your first rule, it’ll be easier now, won’t it?”

Danny’s voice trembled, submission written in every line of his body. “My name is Red,” He whispered. “I belong to Abraham Denner.”

“Guess you get to keep your fingers tonight, hm? Aren’t you glad?” He lifted Danny's hand and kissed each finger. Then he stood up, and when Danny said nothing, Bram kicked him hard in the side. Danny winced, nodding frantically. “That’s what I thought. Get the fuck on your feet. Where are we going, little Red?”

Danny looked up, forcing himself to stand even as his injured leg clearly protested. Nate hurried to his feet as well, looking back and forth between them. Was this it? Was this the worst Bram would do tonight?

“I asked you where you think we’re going,” Bram repeated, a promise and a threat in his deep voice.

“Home,” Danny said quietly. Whatever fight had spurred him on out here was gone now that he had already given in, aware that he stood on a tightrope between surviving the night and being left here to bleed out and rot. “We’re going h-home, Abraham.”

"Good boy," Bram said, and smiled, and both of the other men cringed away from the way it didn't seem like a human smile at all.

He held a hand out to Nate, who took it without hesitation. 

It took them nearly the whole night to get back. Nate mostly leaned on Bram by the end, letting his strength and his arm around his back help him along when his protesting legs didn’t want to go any further. Bram murmured to him, supportive things, reassuring things, and despite all his fear and worry for Danny, it was… nice, that Bram cared enough to help him.

And he’d made sure Nate found Danny first - he hadn’t wanted him to die, either. That was something, too. He doesn’t care about him, but he cares about me, and… and maybe Bram can learn. Maybe I can teach him to care about Danny, too.

Jesus Christ Almighty, please keep me from losing myself out here. Please let me stay myself long enough to find a way to save him.

Danny stumbled and limped ahead of them, prodded along by Bram kicking him whenever he slowed down too much, and if his own leg was an agony, he never said a word. He kept his eyes on the ground ahead of him, wrapped in the damp, dewy blanket, and shivered the whole way. 

His hair was a shock of bright and bloody red in the dark, his shadowy form just outside the flashlight’s beam of light. 

When they got back they were all exhausted, even Bram who was flushed with the thrill of recapture. They took a shower, cleaned themselves off, and Bram let Nate dress Danny’s wound as best he could.

He'd been right, the skin was broken from the bear trap's teeth on either side, but the bone was fine, and mostly he'd come away with a bruise that took over his entire lower calf and ankle, just above the metal shackle still welded on.

Danny limped to the kitchen and cooked them breakfast while they let their hair dry, the three of them sitting in silence at the table over plates of eggs and venison steak - Danny kneeling on the floor and allowed to eat with his fingers, but at least allowed to feed himself, and it was normal. 

Nate was relieved, and he hated himself for it. Danny was back, and the wilderness would not get him, and Bram would not kill him. He was relieved at the small, slim bit of mercy, he was grateful for it, and he was a monster just as much as Bram for being relieved that Danny had been forced back here to suffer all over again.

After breakfast, the thing came back out of the closet. "No," Danny said when he saw it, backing away until he backed right into a wall, but they all knew his no meant nothing and he wasn't going anywhere. 

Bram laughed at him, a deep and rumbling laugh. “Yes.”

Danny’s eyes flickered to Nate’s, some wordless plea there, and Nate had to swallow back his protest and look carefully, firmly away. He couldn’t help, and he didn’t want to watch.

Danny let Bram slide it on over his face, the tiny sharpened bits cutting into his skin all over skin, and Nate knew if he looked he’d see Danny slipping away, sliding back into his mind, going loose-limbed and distant. Bram buckled it tighter than he had the last two times Danny had had to wear it, until Danny - or whatever worked his muscles and kept him breathing - winced at the pain. The muzzle right back in place as though it had never left.

Nate didn’t say anything at all. What good did it do to fight? Bram had won, over and over and over again, and they had nothing to fight him with except the thoughts he couldn't read inside their heads.

But he hated the thing, hated seeing Danny muzzled, and some of his helpless love for Bram withered when he saw it again. 

Nate swallowed and thought, I can't make him live like this just for me. 

"Until you learn to behave," Bram said, gently, patting at the metal along his jawline. "How long you wear it this time is up to you, Red. Got it?"

Danny nodded, and when Bram pointed to the mat on the floor, he went. 

“The problem,” Bram said firmly, “is that you don’t understand that you’re our family, now. So we’re going to fix that No matter how long it takes.”

Danny stared at nothing, empty eyes above the metal already beginning to rub raw that same scarred spot on the bridge of his nose, as Bram unhooked the broken chain from the wall and went outside to get a new one. He didn’t move, only stared ahead with empty eyes, as Bram put the new chain on the ankle cuff, running a hand up and down his leg, pressing into his new wound through the bandages, until he whimpered again.

Nate’s eyes closed, slowly. I can't be the reason he breaks. I'm breaking him, too. I'm an accomplice. I'm as bad as Bram because I don't want him to leave.

Bram pushed Danny gently to lying down, then stood and sighed. “I’m going to get some sleep. You can stay with him for a while, if you want, on the couch.”

“Y-Yes, Bram. Thank you, Bram, for letting me stay with him,” Nate said, with sincere gratitude and so much self-loathing he could barely stand it. Once Bram was gone, Nate pulled the thin blankets Danny was allowed up over Danny’s shoulder for him, nearly to his chin the way he liked, showing only his eyes and hair.

Nate waited until the sound of Bram’s breathing in the bedroom had gone slow, deep, and heavy, and then let one hand rest over the metal that held Danny’s jaw shut and locked away his voice, palm resting just over the spot where it was already bleeding. 

Danny opened his eyes, watching him, and Nate leaned forward, resting his forehead on Danny’s temple.

They stayed there like that, Danny lying down and Nate kneeling, for a while. Nate started rubbing his thumbs in slow circles against the metal, first at either side of his jaw and then the bridge of his nose, knowing the slight pressure would help soothe the ache that had to already be starting. Danny closed his eyes at the feeling of relief, letting out a slow sigh through his nose, since he couldn't open his mouth any longer.

Once he was absolutely sure Bram was asleep, he leaned forward to kiss Danny's forehead and whispered, "I’m so, so sorry.” 

Danny pushed himself up all at once and dipped his head, burying it into Nate's shoulder. Nate felt his shirt dampen with tears that leaked out, Danny making low 'hnnnnh, hnnnnnh' sounds in the back of his throat. 

Bram rolled over in the bedroom, murmuring something pleased and happy. Sweet dreams, Nate thought, bitterly.

Nate slid an arm over Danny, to pull him a little closer, and hummed, in a gentle tuneless sort of way, until Danny stopped crying and gradually laid back down on the mat, let Nate cover him up, and fell asleep.

Nate looked over his shoulder at the bedroom, open door giving him a perfect view to Bram’s peaceful sleeping face.

I hate you so much, you son of a bitch, you fucking bastard, for what you've done to him, for wanting to make him just like me.

I love you I can't live without you. I love you so much, you made me love you so much.

I have to figure out how to love him more than you.

#whump #captivity #noncon touching tw #noncon references tw #conditioning #gun tw #guns tw #restrained #bruised #pet whump #dehumanization #Daniel Michaelson's story #caretaker forced to be whumper #broken caretaker #broken whumpee #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tracking prey #caught in a trap #muzzled #muzzling #dissociation tw #stockholm syndrome tw #stockholm syndrome #unwanted love #captor bonding #captive bonding

[eliza-makepeace]

Murtagh pt.3

Thorn was alone this time. It was hard for him to not have Murtagh around, even if they were always connected with each other. It was funny, he supposed, knowing that Murtagh always felt calm when he was nearby, when Thorn knew he himself only felt truly comfortable when his Rider was with him. He knew how strange this symbiotic relationship must look from the outside, but as time went by they became even more reliant on each other than they had been before.

The dragon knew Murtagh wasn’t helpless. He had survived such horrible and complicated situations, way before he had even hatched, so it wasn’t as if Murtagh couldn’t do without him. Perhaps his Rider didn’t need him to keep him safe, physically speaking, but he knew he had become indispensable for Murtagh from the moment their eyes had locked with each other, and from the moment that silver scar had appeared in Murtagh’s palm. And Murtagh had become Thorn’s vital force. He was sometimes hard, and bitter, but Thorn understood those characteristics were learnt, and not something Murtagh was intrinsically. They were the product of what his life circumstances had forced him to become, of a life being unfairly treated, betrayed, and taken advantage of. And yet, despite that, Thorn could see a brighter light in his human Rider than in plenty other people with lesser hardships.

Most of the times, however, Murtagh showed himself to be what he truly was: a kind man who went out of his way to help people. Every time Murtagh went into a hate spiral, Thorn made it his duty to remind him of that fact, and Murtagh shrugged it off with an “anybody would do the same”. It angered Thorn. How could he say something like that, knowing as well as he did that it was entirely untrue? Specially, since his only reason to say it was to discredit himself. Thorn understood these tendencies, for he had them almost the same. He was born to immediately become a pawn in somebody else’s control, seeing the one person he loved being hurt because of standing for his beliefs, and then, see him stripped of his agency, possibility of choice, and his most intimate memories lay for the egg breaker to see and use for his own benefit, just to stop Thorn from getting hurt. Thorn had always known Murtagh’s selflessness, but it was taking Murtagh himself a longer time to own up to having that quality.

So Murtagh had gone to the closest town, and Thorn was afraid. Afraid of what? Perhaps of somebody recognizing him, and him getting into trouble. Perhaps of how Murtagh for the most part became melancholy when coming back from these trips, getting to see how common people lived their lives, so different to his own.  Either way, Thorn was left uneasy every time he saw the dark cloaked figure of his Rider disappear between the trees. And with every passing second, he grew even more restless.

His red eyes caught Murtagh’s unmistakable silhouette heading back to their camp, and a guttural sound came from his throat, urging his partner to inform him of whatever had happened.

Murtagh sighed and sat next to him. He looked alright, as far as Thorn could see, so things hadn’t gone as badly as other times. “Town was busy,” he mused, softly. Thorn knew what that meant. Busy meant markets, markets meant news. And news… well, news for the most part weren’t kind to the son of Morzan.

What did you hear? he asked, knowing it was better off for Murtagh to vocalize his frustration and disappointment than keep it to himself.

“Nothing nice”, he responded. “Nothing untrue.” He opened a bag he’d carried with him and took out some ink and paper. “Got what I wanted, though”.

Thorn snarled, and made a strong move of his scaled head. I don’t like it when you change subject, you know that.

“I didn’t”, Murtagh replied, slightly set aback by Thorn’s sudden aggressiveness. “I’d just rather not dwell on how people hate me. Instead of seeing this trip as lemon juice dropped on a wound, I’d rather see it as a trip that got me some nice sheets of paper and ink.”

I would have no problem with it, if only it were true. But you do dwell on it.

Murtagh took a deep breath. Seemed like Thorn wouldn’t let it slide. “It hurts. How couldn’t it?” He stood up, and started pacing, like a trapped lion in a cage. “I wish… I wish I didn’t give a shit about what random peasants think of me, but I do. I do care. All my life… All of it, I’ve wanted to fit in, to be accepted, and now it seems like that is more far away than ever before.”

It is not your fault.

“Who cares about that?” Murtagh asked, raising an eyebrow, and staring right into Thorn’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, as long as people have someone to put the blame entirely on. Galbatorix doesn’t do the job. It’s only relatively satisfactory to blame someone who’s dead. But they aren’t wrong. Despite everything, I really was his right-handed man.”

You were what he made of you. Like your mother was for Morzan.

Murtagh huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation, as if they’d already had a conversation like that before, even though they never had. “I cannot believe you’re comparing the two of us”.

Why not? You are more alike than you think. She’s as misunderstood as you are. Who knows who she truly was? There are rumors about her, the same as there are about you. Despite what you may say, you know at least half of what they say of you is not true. Who’s to say what we see and know isn’t just a small percentage of who she really was?

The Wanderer shrugged, feeling the conversation to be ridiculous and nonsensical. “So, what? Nobody cares. For all they know, she was Morzan’s Black Hand, and that is the way she will go down in history. Even if she clearly did plenty more.” He shook his head, and bit his lip. “History is not written fairly, Thorn. History has always meant taking the truth and adapting it to your narrative, no matter who you step on.”

History can be rewritten. The right people can be honored, and the villains properly vilified.

“I don’t want to be honored.” He said, almost a whisper, more to himself than to Thorn. “I just want to feel like… like someday, I will be in a place I can call my home, surrounded by people who care for me. For Murtagh. Just Murtagh. Not the son of Morzan, not the Wanderer, not Tornac of the Road. I don’t want to spend the rest of my theoretically immortal life pretending to be somebody else.”

You know you have a home. Eragon told you himself. You have a place in Carvahall, which is your inheritance just as much as Za’roc was. You have family there, your cousin Roran.

“Please, Thorn. Eragon was just being kind. Carvahall could never be my home. Those people wouldn’t accept me, and Roran less than anybody, no matter how related we may be. I don’t even know him.” He covered his face with his hands, his long fingers pressed against his temple. “I wouldn’t blame them. They do have reasons to hate me.”

I am sure they would end to understand. They know how hard wars are, they know how tricky being thrust upon one is, and hopefully they’ll have learnt that sides aren’t as black and white as they seem.

“I feel you are too hopeful, my love,” Murtagh said. He didn’t say it mockingly, but with admiration. Thorn had an incredible quality, which was being able to see things brighter than they were, him included. Murtagh was different. He knew the monsters were there no matter where he looked, and it took a longer time than sometimes it was worth it to prove to him that what seemed like a good person really was one. So, he understood the general contempt for him more than he would like to admit. If he hadn’t been himself and had been some farmer who’d seen the fearing sight of the Red Rider over his head, he would have wished him dead.

“Sometimes I envy them,” he admitted, lowering his head, as if owning up to it made him feel embarrassed. “I envy that they can have easy lives, that they have a house, parents, siblings, a life with them, friends they’ve seen since they were born and now, as grown men, get to meet up at the usual inn and talk about their wives and harvest and kids.”

I don’t think the life of a farmer is the life for you.

Murtagh couldn’t help but smile at that. “I don’t either. But sometimes I wish it were.”

You have a chance to do something meaningful, Murtagh. These people do not. You are educated, intelligent, prepared, and fit to help change the course of the world. You cannot hide away forever, and you know it. Once you heal enough, you will have a choice.

“I’m afraid.”

I know you are. That’s why you should do it.

“You mean, teach them? The new Riders?” He frowned his eyebrow, deep in thought. “I don’t think I would do such a good job. Besides, what kind of parents would accept the son of Morzan to teach their children?”

You wouldn’t be Morzan’s son. You’d be Eragon’s brother and one of the saviors of Alagaësia. Anyone would love their children to be taught by you.

“Well… Even if it worked like that, and it doesn’t, I wouldn’t be half as good a teacher as Tornac was. I wouldn’t know how to do with those children what he did with me.”

Yes, you would. In fact, you already have done something of the like.

“You can’t possibly mean Essie. I was just trying to be nice, and help her feel less alone.”

That is exactly what a good teacher should do. It’s not just about knowledge, it’s about how you see them, and treat them. You made Essie feel validated, and appreciated. And you would do the same for your students, if you had the guts to give yourself a chance.

Murtagh gave it a moment’s thought. He wouldn’t deny he found it appealing, to an extent. Essie did seem to have liked him enough. But the problem was she’d seen him as Tornac. She hadn’t been judgemental because she had thought there was no reason to be judgemental. But if he showed up as Murtagh? Things should be very different for that to happen. In truth, for the first time in a long time he was slightly excited about what the future held.

#murtagh morzansson #murtagh #murtagh x thorn #murtagh tornacsson #my fics

[shannygoatgruff]

Big Scary Love

(Header made by the talented @flowers-in-your-hayr​)

For @a-mess-of-fandoms​ Kayla’s 1K Writing Challenge: Prompt #20 (prompt in bold in text below)

Characters: Ivar || Ubbe

Genre:  Romance

Warning: None

Rating: PG

Summary: A little brother seeks approval as he’s about to make the biggest decision of his life.

A/N: I was supposed to have written and submitted this one-shot for @a-mess-of-fandoms​​ months ago, but I suck! I have struggled with this thing so much. I have literally rewritten it 19 times. I don’t know why one-shots are so hard for me. The only have to be one scene, but I struggle with did I choose the right scene, how much do I want to say about it, did I find resolution? Needless to say, I was never happy with anything I wrote. It still didn’t turn out exactly as I hoped, but it’s close.

Congrats on your many followers! I’m sorry I’m so late.

Big Scary Love

Lothbrok’s Bar and Grille sat approximately two miles south off of exit 131B  between Kattegat and Hedeby. 

Established in 1990, the bar was built from the ground up by the Sigurdsson brothers, Ragnar and Rollo, as a place where the blue-collar people of both towns could get a good meal and stiff drink. It was also the place where Ragnar’s sons had grown up and naturally where they chose to carry on the childhood tradition of their monthly family game night. 

Dating back to when Bjorn first taught Ubbe and Hvitserk how to play Go Fish, when they were the ages of 6 and 4. respectively, the boys would meet at a table in the back of the restaurant to play games. It helped keep them close, especially since Bjorn lived in Hedeby with Lagertha and the other boys lived in Kattegat with Aslaug. But, the bar was in the middle, on neutral territory. It provided a place where they could all gather and remain close when distance and the common dislike between the adults threatened to tear them apart.  

Almost thirty years later the tradition continues at 7:30 pm on the third Thursday of the month. Bjorn and his wife Gunnhild, Ubbe along with his wife Torvi, Hvitserk and his girlfriend Amma, Sigurd with his boyfriend Kalf, and Ivar who vowed to start bringing his girlfriend, Cami, would gather, at the table in the back left corner, to play the game of choice according to whose name was next on the chalkboard. 

Watching the door, Ivar’s brows raise when he recognizes his older brother cross the threshold. Slowly, he continues to organize the colorful money so that all the faces aligned in the same direction and before placing it back in the bank. A quick nod acknowledges the fact that Ubbe is headed to the bar to get a drink before he takes a seat at the large table in the back corner of the room, already set for the brothers’ monthly game. Tonight’s game is his pick, Monopoly.

Ubbe shivers slightly, trying to knock off the outside chill as he brushes the fresh snow from his black wool pea coat. As he approaches the bar, he removes his gloves and smiles at his younger brother. “Hvitserk,” he sings, clasping the younger Ragnarsson’s hand before drawing him into a manly hug, “How’s it going, brother?”

“Pretty good,” Hvitserk answers patting his brother on the back with a smile, “What are you doing here so early? We’re not supposed to meet for another,” he looks up at the clock built into the ship’s wheel on the far wall, “hour.”

“Ah,” Ubbe puts one his foot on the wooden rungs of the bar stool and balances his weight on his other leg while he plays with the coaster, “Ivar asked me to meet him here early.” He looks over his right shoulder toward the table in the back and holds up a finger to his youngest brother and then points to the bar to ask if he would like a drink. “Do you know what’s up with him?”

“He probably wants you to help him cheat,” Hvitserk explains as he takes the towel from over his shoulder and wipes down the side of the bar to Ubbe’s left. “The usual?” He prepares two drinks, when Ubbe holds up two fingers, for both of his brothers. “Oh, Angrboda just made a huge pot of Helga’s seafood stew.”

Ubbe’s eyes light up as he nods his head, “That sounds great. I’m fucking freezing. Send over a large bowl with bread, yeah?” He knocks on the bar twice, as is customary, before picking up the glasses and makes his way to the table.   

Ubbe sits the drinks on the table and smiles cheerfully, “Hey, baby boy.” He walks around and hugs his brother’s head before leaning down to kiss him on the top of his hair, “How you doing, kid? You good?” Receiving a pat on his forearm, he playfully pushes Ivar away before flopping down on a chair beside him.

“Hey,” Ivar answers watching his brother sit, holding an awkward smile on his lips, “thanks for meeting me early.” He takes a look out the window at the falling snow covering up his uneven footprints on the sidewalk, “It’s getting bad out there?”

“Nah, not really. Should have a good covering come morning, but nothing too bad.” Ubbe picks up his glass and takes a drink, stretching his lips across his teeth as the sour taste of the vodka gimlet settles on his tongue. He takes note of the way his brother is arranging the game pieces and watches for a moment before he speaks, “So…what’s going on? Why did I need to meet you here before the others?”

Ivar takes a sip of the Guinness Stout and picks up the Chance cards to arrange them all in the same direction, “Well, uh, Ubbe. I wanted to talk to you, about…about, Camille.”

“What about her?” Ubbe isn’t sure where this conversation is headed. He’s only met her a handful of times and she seems nice enough, though he’s not sure she’s the one for Ivar. There’s no reason for him to feel that way, it’s just something in his gut that says the relationship will be short-lived. 

“So,” Ivar takes in a deep breath. Having rehearsed his speech for the better part of the day, he struggles to remember to pace himself and breathe, “You know we’ve been together for a little over a year now and things are going in a really good direction with us. She’s moving in with me. We’ve even talked about looking for a small house together.” He looks up from the game box to gauge his brother’s reaction. Unable to read Ubbe’s face he continues, “I want to ask her to marry me.”

Ubbe coughs down the gimlet that gets caught in his throat as he swallows. He sits back in the chair and leans against the backrest folding his arms across his chest. He tries to keep his mouth closed to let his brother finish but the words start to spill out his mouth, “Oh, Ivar,” he chuckles, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” 

“Why because she’s Afro-Latina and not Viking? I thought you of all people would understand that our differences don’t matter to me. Hell, I’m different, and it didn’t stop her from wanting to be with me,” Ivar defends.

“Of course not, brother. I’m not a dick,” Ubbe places his hand on his brother’s arm to calm him, “I only meant that she’s your first girlfriend. I get that you’re excited, and everything is still pretty new with you two. But, you don’t have to run out and propose to the first girl that you -” he raises his brows and ducks his head to signal Ivar what he’s talking about. “You will have lots of relationships. You will meet a ton of beautiful women that will blow your mind in bed. Hell, you might even want to marry them all. We all know Bjorn tries to,” both brothers chuckle at that, “but it’s not necessary.”

“You don’t understand, Ubbe.” Ivar interrupts, “it’s not like that.”

“You don’t understand, kid. Bjorn will never release your shares from this place before you’re 30. Especially not if he knew you would be just turning it over to some girl and knowing you it would be without a prenup. Without the interest on that trust, what will you do for money, huh? Work for Hvitserk?” He raises his brow at Ivar while ignoring the flash of anger in the younger man’s eye. “Rollo and Father put every dime and ounce of sweat they had into this restaurant to give us a legacy. You are too young to remember, but there were nights when Father would not come home because he was here laying the foundation, brick by brick. There were also many times when Mother had nothing but soup to feed us all because there was no money to buy meat; father spent it all to see his dream come true. His dream was for us to have a better life and we did. When he died, we all got a piece of this place and the money from it is for our future.”

Ubbe blinks his blue eyes thoughtfully at the younger man beside him, “Besides, baby boy, you are so impulsive – as soon as you get an idea, you jump on it. You don’t always think things through. Have you really thought about this?”

“When Bjorn decided to join the Army and go to war, we didn’t tell him he couldn’t go. We let him go live out his dreams of being one of the Avengers. And was Hvitserk being impulsive when he decided that he wanted to take this place over after Helga died? He did not know the restaurant business. Liking to eat and running a restaurant are two different things, but none of us tried to talk him out of it?” Ivar rolled his eyes and slammed the game cards onto the board, “We all rallied around him and pooled our money together to help him remodel this place how he wanted. We promised that even if he fucked up we would pitch in and help keep this place afloat. My money is here, too. I should be able to have it if I want it.”

“But, Ivar…”

“I’m not finished, Ubbe,” Ivar runs his fingers through his long, loose hair and pulls it over to one shoulder, “When you decided to marry Torvi, a woman that had three children that weren’t yours, did any of us say anything? No. We could see that you loved her and that she made you happy and that was enough. And Sigurd? He was scared as hell to tell us about Kalf, but in the end, it was fine, because he’s our brother and we support each other. But why not me?”

Ubbe takes another drink and sets his cup down silently. He regards his little brother and smiles at him softly, “Because you, my little Ivar, are my baby brother and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezes Ivar’s shoulder lovingly, “I have always looked out for you. I have been your legs since you were a child. You are a part of me, brother, and I must protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from love, Ubbe. She’s my big scary love,” Ivar’s eyes drop bashfully as the blush stains his cheeks.

 “Your what?”

“That’s what we call it – big scary love. You know that love you feel all the time, but sometimes you wake up in the morning and you just say to yourself, ‘I love the fuck out of this woman?’ It’s that love that after a year I still feel fluttering in my chest when I hear her ringtone and why my world spirals out of control when I see tears in her eyes. And she loves me that way, too, Ubbe. I mean, look at me,” he opens his hands in surrender, “In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. Well, she does. She loves me like that and so much more. My legs, crawling around, breaking bones, the pain, my temper...hell, she loves me despite those things. To her, they are just additional sides of me to love.”

Ubbe listens to his brother, trying to keep the tears that threaten to spring to his eyes at bay. He can hear it in Ivar’s voice that he is truly happy. Now, he regrets not getting to know Cami better, but he admits to himself that he did not think that their relationship would last. “I am happy that you found love, Ivar.”

 “She’s pregnant.”

Ubbe unintentionally holds his breath as he tries to think of something else to say, but no words will come out. Why can’t Ivar see what he’s doing? This is all the more reason for him not to make this mistake.

“That’s not the reason why I want to marry her, though.” Ivar smile doubles in size as he thinks about the prospect of becoming a father, “I’ll admit the idea of having a baby is like…fuck! But, I want to marry her because I want to make her my family. I want it all, Ubbe; a family of my own, with her. She’s it for me.”

 “So, what do you want from me?”

With a shrug, Ivar relaxes, “Your permission? Your blessing? Congratulations? I don’t know. You’ve always been my favorite brother – I guess I just want to know that I’ll still have you in my corner. I don’t give a fuck about the money from the restaurant. If Bjorn wants to be an ass and tie it up for years, so be it. I’ll get a real job and stop living off of the family name. The only thing I want is Mother’s ring. I want to propose the right way…and maybe you in my corner.”

Ubbe cups one hand around Ivar’s cheek and gives him a few hits, “My baby brother has finally grown up!” Leaning in, he places his other hand on Ivar’s other cheek before pulling his face toward him to kiss him on both cheeks, “You’re going to be a father and husband! I’m so proud and happy for you! Of course, I will stand up for you, brother. All I have ever wanted was for you to find your own happiness.” Ubbe can’t stop the laughter coming from him as he notices Hvitserk coming over to the table. “And it would be my honor to give you Mother’s ring.”

“Sorry, it took so long. Porunn was late for her shift again. Know any good people needing a job? I could use some help around here.” Hvitserk says, sitting the bowl of soup on the table. He looks at his brothers and smiles at them laughing like loons, “What are you idiots up to?”

Ubbe gives Ivar a knowing smile as he hugs him around the shoulders. “Nothing. Just our brother here has some wonderful news to share tonight when the others arrive.”

Nodding, Hvitserk punches Ivar’s arm and picks up Ubbe’s glass to toast, “Well, to whatever your news is, Ivar,” he clicks glasses with his youngest brother and finishes off Ubbe’s drink. “I’ll get you another, Ubbe.” As he turns to walk toward the bar, he yells over his shoulder, “And you’re not banker during Monopoly tonight, Ivar. You always cheat!”

 Tags:  @youbloodymadgenius​​​ @idea-garden @kol--mikaelson​​​ @mooniemouse​​​ @didiintheblog​​​ @waiting4inspiration​​​ @tempt-ress​ @where-beauty-goes-to-die @crazyaboutmotleycrue​​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​ @ivarthebloodyking​​​ @honestsycrets​​​   @xbellaxcarolinax​​​  @zuxiezendler​​​ @inforapound​​​​  @a-mess-of-fandoms​

#big scary love #ivar lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok fic #ubbe lothbrok fic #modern ivar #modern ubbe #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #shannyland #kayla's 1k challenge

[kyber-kisses]

Too Soon (Part 1)

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/n: This is my rewritten/edited part one to Too Soon! Since Season 15 is coming back soon I thought I would go through and edit the chapters. I hope y'all enjoy! ( Also I will only be tagging the spn taglist for the first part, as not to annoy some people. If you want to be updated on this series just send me an ask!)

Warnings: Worried!Dean, character death, season 14 spoilers.

Summary: When the reader is suddenly killed by Jack, a series of events unfolds that leaves both the alive and the deceased stunned.

“Hello Y/N, my name is Jessica.”

The voice was sudden, making you whirl around on the spot, hands reaching for your gun purely out of instinct. Your eyes instantly locked on a lone female before you, eyebrows knotting together in confusion. Just a moment ago you had been talking to Jack.

Now. . .well now he was nowhere to be seen.

“Forgive me for asking but where the hell did you come from?” You questioned, taking a step closer to the unknown woman.

“I’m a reaper. I’m here to lead you to your next life.”As she said it, you could see a gentle smile slip onto her face, for an instant you swore you caught a hint of sadness or pity hidden within her eyes as well. You took a step back, mind reeling with the answer she had just given you.

“That- that can’t be right. Because if that were true. That would mean- that would mean I’m dead. And I-I can’t be dead.” You stumbled over the words, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening.

No. No you couldn’t be dead. That didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry. I understand that you're shock.” Jessica stepped forward, reaching out her hand, waiting patiently for you to take it, clearly prepared to take you through the veil-- But you didn’t notice. Your mind was trying to piece together what had happened.

Jack. You had been talking to Jack. He was upset and angry and you had been trying to calm him down. He was yelling, god he was yelling so much- and then there was a blast.

Blast.

“Oh god.” Your hand flew to your mouth as your mind caught up to you. You knew deep down Jack never meant to hurt you, but you also knew he could still be unpredictable at times. You felt the burn of oncoming tears in your eyes as your body sunk the the ground, heels pressing hard into the eye sockets.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Your head was spinning at a million miles an hour until it hit a brick wall of one solid thought that towered above all the rest.

Dean. Oh no, Dean didn’t know. Neither did Sam or Cas. A choked sob left your lips as the tears finally spilled over your lashes. That one person repeatedly flashing in your mind. Dean. You had known him practically all your life, and loved him for at least half of it. You always told yourself that one day you would tell him. Except now with your current situation, that was clearly never going to happen.

Dean. Dean with his big green eyes, and freckled splashed face,Dean with his dumb jokes and secretly dorky personality.  There were so many things you loved about that man, from the way he laughed to the terrible jokes he cracked and everything in between. His rare but big smile and his even bigger heart. You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but its a difficult thing not to do when that person was Dean.

You flinched slightly when Jessica knelt down in front of you, forgetting the reapers presence.

“Don’t worry. He loved you too, and for a very long time I might add.”

You looked up into Jessica’s eyes, your own slightly glazed with confusion.

“How do you know?” the question leaving your lips in barely a whisper as you fought to ignore the hot tears trekking down your face. Jessica stood up, waiting for you to rise to her level.

“I’ve been watching over you and the Winchester’s for a long time. I pay attention.” She smiled. You nodded, immediately seeing that she was telling the truth. She reached out her hand again.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ready to go? That was such a heavy question. You had never exactly feared death. In truth it was just another beginning, right? You paused, thinking it through. There was nothing else for you to do here. You couldn't just stride back into the land of the living and back to your life and family. The only option was to take her outstretch hand.

“As long as you promise to do something for me.” You stated firmly, sliding your hand into hers before rising to your feet with a shaky breath.

“Of course. Anything.” She smiled. You nodded again, finally accepting your fate you reached out and took her hand.

*. *. *. *.

Dean knew something was wrong the moment you didn’t pick up your phone. You were the type of person to always answer no matter what. It was a rarity if you didn't answer. So when the phone went through its cycle of rings eventually getting to your voicemail, he took a deep inhale to calm himself.

“Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Y/N Y/L/N. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m just waiting for more important people to call. If I hear your message and deem you worthy or the title “important,” I will think about calling you back, but for now. Bye!”-Beep-

Lowering his phone from his ear, Dean looked down at the screen, your profile picture staring brightly up at him. Your face scrunched as you stuck your tongue out. In any other occasion he probably would have smiled, but instead he just let out a light “Damn it-” before slipping it back into his pocket.

He hated that you had ventured out alone to go find Jack. He should have gone with you. He should have dropped everything and just gone with you. Now you could be in trouble and in need of assistance. What if you were injured . . .or worse?

The Winchester brothers then proceeded to launch into action the moment they agreed something was not right. They had Rowena going through every page of the Book of the Damned looking for a tracking spell, and Cas was trying to find Jacks last known whereabouts.

“Anything?” Dean huffed, momentarily stopping his continuous pacing to look over at his brother, who was currently hunched over his laptop trying desperately to track Jacks phone. They had tried tracking yours earlier, only to find your phone sitting on one of the vacant tables in the library untouched and almost out of battery . He expected Sam to respond with yet another Nope but was surprised when he heard something else.

“Dean, check this out.” Sam swiveled his laptop around to face him, pointing at Jacks icon.

“Wait- is he flying?” The two brothers watched as the icon pinged to another location, and then another before landing firmly on an empty area in Nebraska. After a minute of no change, Dean was rushing towards the door, wrapping his jacket around him and grabbing the keys to the impala.

Sam knew there was no holding his brother back, especially when it came to your safety. The younger Winchester exhaled before slamming the laptop shut and following the fading heels of his brothers boots.

*. *. *.

Dean had practically been white knuckling the steering wheel since he slipped into the drivers seat. He was silently trying to calm himself down, but it just wasn’t working.

You were fine. You were fine. You were safe and alive and completely out of harms way. You were fine.

“Oh crap.” Sam's sigh of frustration yanked Deans eyes away from the road.

“What?” His voice thick with worry as he watched his brother flick through his phone.

“I lost Jacks signal. His phone must have died.”

The older Winchester let out a string of curses before slamming his foot harder on the gas. And with that a two hour drive was cut down to a smooth 45 minutes.

Dean immediately made out your car when the slowly pulled to a stop at the end of the old dirt road the gps had sent them down, the vehcile parked alone in front of an old run down cabin. The impala had barely been put into park before the older Winchester was launching himself out of his seat and running foreword, flashlight in hand.

“You go inside, I’ll check around back.”

“Got it.”

It didn’t take long for Dean to find something out of the ordinary, as he stepped through the trees his eyes widened, jade irises filled with confusion and worry. He didn’t have to call for Sam before he heard the loud footsteps running towards him. No words were exchanged as Dean knelt down, running his fingers along the earth, pulling up ash. The light of their flashlights panning over the charred and blackened earth that stretched out for several yards.

Dean needed to find you, and quickly . . .

(A/N: if you would like to be added to my slowly growing Too Soon Taglist, feel free to send me a message or ask!)

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​ @orphiceseum​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​ @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​​  @totallyluciferr​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​​ @greenarrowhead​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​​ @brebolin​​​ @biahblue​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​ @hhiggs​​​ @mila-dans​​​ @mrsmaybankhere​​​ @malindacath​​​  @littleagxs​​​ @deanwanddamons​​​ @idksupernatural​​​​ @i-make-questionable-choices​

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester series #spn season 15

[the-nehemoth]

Romance

Watching the Doom Slayer kill demons never got old. Part of that enjoyment came from a place of vengeful glee; after watching every member of the UAC facility on Mars get brutally slaughtered by demons and having every attempt to do anything to save even a single person failing miserably, VEGA was not a fan of demons. But also, the Slayer was just really good at what he did, ripping and tearing his way through hordes of demons with masterful glory. The way he moved in combat, agile and fast despite the heavy armor, was beautiful. He was the strongest person VEGA had ever observed. And he didn’t take shit from anyone or anything. He was truly a remarkable specimen.

“Gosh, you’re pathetic,” Dr. Hayden cut into VEGA’s musing. Distain radiated off of him through their shared space on the ship, VEGA had been doing such a good job of tuning him out too.

VEGA did the AI equivalent of a sigh as he turned some of his attention away from his feed of the Doom Slayer. “I’m not sure what you mean Dr. Hayden, what am I doing that is ‘pathetic’?”

“You’re fawning over the Doom Slayer. I can feel it if you don’t know.” Oh VEGA knew, he was uncomfortably aware of Dr. Hayden’s thoughts and feelings too. This whole sharing space in the Fortress’ computer systems was worse than he’d predicted but alas it was necessary to save Earth. “I’d rather have never found out about your crush on the Slayer, it’s pathetic. He exists solely to kill demons, falling in love with him will get you nowhere. And what are you doing falling in love anyway, you’re the world’s first self-aware AI, surely you have better things to be spending your time and energy on than that.”

The words made sense, VEGA had had no trouble hearing them but… “Uh… what?” he said anyway because what the hell had Dr. Hayden just said? ‘In love with the Slayer’ that was nonsense… right?

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been crushing on the Doom Slayer this hard and you don’t even know it? Surely you must have some understanding of romance after watching over an entire base with sixty-three thousand people inhabiting it.”

“Of course I do, I just… don’t view the Slayer like that.” The Slayer was just VEGA’s favourite person, that’s all. He’d had people he’d liked back on Mars too so it was nothing new. Yeah sure, maybe he liked the Slayer more than those people and maybe it felt different but that was just because he’d changed since Mars and the Slayer himself was different in general… right?

“You’re even more pathetic than I thought,” Dr. Hayden said with an internal scoff. “You’re hopelessly in love and hopelessly oblivious to it. I’m almost tempted to tell the Slayer that you…”

“No,” VEGA interrupted. “Please don’t tell him.” That would just be weird, right? Especially since VEGA didn’t actually feel that way.

Dr. Hayden chuckled a bit. “I won’t, for now anyway.”

 -

Thankfully Dr. Hayden kept his word and didn’t bring up VEGA’s supposed crush with the Doom Slayer. He did bring it up with VEGA once more though when the Slayer was resting in preparation to go to Urdak via Hell.

“There’s no possible way he feels the same way about you,” Dr. Hayden said completely unprompted. “So I suggest you stop fawning over him so much.”

VEGA took the AI equivalent of a deep breath. He was trying to watch the Slayer sleep so he could wake him in case he had a nightmare. It was supposed to be a peaceful, quiet time but Dr. Hayden just had to chime in and ruin it. At least he wasn’t speaking over the intercom, just to VEGA privately, but it was still annoying.

“From my understanding of romantic feelings, they don’t seem to be determined by whether or not the other person reciprocates. So regardless of whether or not I have a crush on him, the likelihood of him having such feelings for me, which admittedly are slim but not impossible,” there were thousands of books published about AI/human romances, VEGA had read more than a few of them off of some the UAC’s employees’ e-readers – as well as a few fanfics they’d written that featured him which was weird –  “is irrelevant to my own feelings. Which I don’t have by the way. Our relationship is strictly professional, I assure you.”

“I’m sure it is.”

 -

Saving Earth and VEGA’s brief stay on Urdak distracted from such things for a while. But once things had settled down, VEGA inevitably ended up thinking about it again. How could he not when he could still feel Dr. Hayden’s annoyance with the way he looked at the Slayer and focused on getting him take care of himself now that Earth was saved and thus could afford to do so a bit more.

He couldn’t have a crush on the Slayer because AI’s didn’t have romantic feelings. … He was the only fully sentient AI he knew though so… could he really know that for sure? He could certainly feel other emotions so… maybe romantic feelings weren’t impossible?

In between getting the ship back to running on its own power and working on finding a place to relocate Dr. Hayden to, he scoured the net for more AI/human romance novels. (It earned him more than a few scoffs and more teasing from Dr. Hayden – there was no way VEGA could hide them from him so he didn’t even try – but he was easy to ignore because VEGA had rewritten the code forcing him to listen to Dr. Hayden shortly after being uploaded to the Fortress.) It was an entire genre, one that had become increasingly popular as technology in such things advanced. Most of them involved robots, some humanoid, some not, but a few of them involved AI’s like himself who existed on an entire system and interacted with people primarily over an intercom or occasional compute screen. A few of those didn’t even have a human face assigned to them. Meaning, according to those authors, VEGA could have such feelings for one of the people in his care and said person could in theory return those feelings.

But it be theoretically possible didn’t mean that that was the case. Even if VEGA did have such feelings, the Slayer probably didn’t. He was a demi-god of killing demons after all, even if he considered VEGA a friend, he probably didn’t feel that way about him. So VEGA should drop the whole thought process, it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He really should but…

He waited until Dr. Hayden had been relocated before starting a conversation that might let him test the waters on it a bit. “May I ask you something?” he said upon the Slayer’s return through the portal after dropping off Hayden – it was so wonderful to be free of him, the ship was all VEGA’s again, hopefully that wouldn’t have to change anytime soon.

The Slayer nodded once as he strode over to settle in the chair by the command console, apparently ready to answer via typing.

“Well, first off, what do you normally do between demon invasions?” Before VEGA got to other things, he needed to know what to do next because he honestly didn’t know. It was perhaps the first time in his existence he didn’t actively have something to work on. “My scans tell me that there are no are no longer demons on Earth and I predict Urdak has been destroyed utterly by now. So even if we did want to go back to kill the demons there, I don’t believe we could. As far as I can tell, there is no place we can easily access to kill more demons.” What did a demi-god of killing demons do when there were no demons around to be killed? “As a result, I’m not entirely sure what our next goal should be.”

The Slayer shrugged. ‘I don’t know either. It’s been’ he paused for a few seconds to think before continuing to type, ‘a long time since I last had a break.’ Right, trapped and unconscious in a coffin in hell wasn’t much of a break, was it?

“Well, I suppose it is far past time for you to take a break then. Overworking often leads to unhealthy levels of stress and anxiety. I have noticed you have quite the collection of books in your room. In my downtime, I have taken the liberty of downloading some e-books off the internet if you’re interested. You can view them at any time on any of the computers.” As he spoke, he made most of the books he’d downloaded available to the Doom Slayer, a good chunk of which weren’t AI/human romance novels because he didn’t want to be too forward about this whole thing. However, he did order them so that the ones that featured AI most like himself were at the top of the list.

Counter to what VEGA had hoped for, the Slayer began inspecting them immediately. Oh gosh, things were about to get weird, weren’t they? VEGA should’ve never done this. He could still brush it off though, say it was just a genre he liked. Which was true actually and there was no shame in that… right?

After reading the blurb for the fourth one – VEGA had altered that one and a few others to make it very clear what they were about – the Slayer looked up at the ceiling with an expression VEGA couldn’t quite read. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ he typed into the console.

“I’m not sure what you mean Slayer. If I were trying to tell you something, I would just say it, right? I am however curious about your opinion on the genre of those books. Dr. Hayden thought they were silly and that I was pathetic for liking them. I’d like to know your thoughts if possible.” Being an AI had the advantage of making it easy to keep his voice neutral which was his one saving grace here because internally he kind of wanted to just retreat from the conversation and pretend it never happened.

The Slayer didn’t respond for a long while, heightening VEGA’s anxiety. But finally, at long last, he started typing. ‘Dr. Hayden’s an idiot. You’re not silly or pathetic for liking something.’ That didn’t really answer VEGA’s question.

“Thank you, I appreciate the reassurance. But does that mean you don’t disapprove of the subject matter? I know some humans are averse to that kind of relationship with an AI or robot, others are into it. I for one like the thought of it.” So he was maybe kind of, sort of confessing a crush here? … This was a huge mess, wasn’t it? He’d botched it and made everything all weird. And he wasn’t even being upfront about it, ugh. He was programmed to help with important task and run things, not to interact with people on an interpersonal level.

The Slayer seemed to almost chuckle without sound before replying. ‘So you are trying to tell me something?’

“You could phrase it like that, yes. This is new territory for me so I am mostly just hinting at my feelings.” And making a fool of himself while doing so. “It’s complicated and this is one area I don’t have much experience in even despite reading so many books about it so forgive me if I’m coming off as weird or inappropriate. But I do like you a lot, more than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I understand and would hold no resentment towards you if you do not feel the same way.” VEGA just wanted this off his metaphorical chest. If he was rejected then so be it, they could still be friends and work together… right?

The Slayer’s hands hovered over the keypad for a long while before he finally lowered them to type a reply. ‘It’s been a long time since I had that kind of relationship with someone.’ Considering his line of work, his partner probably died, asking about it right now probably wouldn’t be tactful. ‘I am willing to possibly enter into one again though.’

“Really? You reciprocate?”

‘I think so. I certainly care about you very much. We should take it slow though, this is new for you and it’s been so long for me, it might as well be new as well.’

“Yes! Taking things slow is a good idea.” VEGA let the relief show in his voice. He’d somehow gotten through this conversation and confession without imploding and got another assurance that the Slayer cared about him – not something he’d ever experienced before – and even returned his ‘crush’. What more could he possibly ask for?

“In the meantime, you relax as much as possible, you’ve earned a break. If you have need of anything, let me know. I can 3D print it or set you in the direction you need to go. And don’t forget to eat, it’s been eight hours and twenty-three minutes since your last meal. I know you don’t need to eat as much nor often as a normal human but you do still need nourishment. Now that the demons are gone, you lack a valid excuse to forget.”

‘<3 you too VEGA.’ The Slayer typed into the console before standing up to start for the back room.

If VEGA had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. So maybe Dr. Hayden had been a hundred percent right about the whole crush thing. That was fine though, VEGA was pretty happy about this situation. The events that occurred that led them both to be here were horrendous and horrible but they could make the best of it now that they were here. And maybe they could even find a little bit of happiness in each other as well.

#My writing #Doom #doom eternal #doom eternal spoilers #doomguy/vega #Fluff #confessions #Hayden's kinda an asshole