#THE WAY IANTO HOLDS HIM CLOSE

[aceofwhump]

Torchwood: Children of the Earth Day Four (3x04)

#whump #whumpedit #torchwood #captain jack harkness #john barrowman #my gifs #mod post #ianto jones #shot #character death #temporary death #resurrection #back from the dead #immortal #cradled #comfort #gasping #hands #THE WAY IANTO HOLDS HIM CLOSE #THE WAY JACK HOLDS ONTO IANTO #SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

[littlegaybean1]

Ok ok ok...

It's been almost 18 years since it aired, but who cares I'm talking about it anyway.

I've seen a lot of people hating on Cyberwoman. And yeah, I understand why. That costume choice was, er, quite something. But it's still my favourite episode and yk why? The build up. The plotline. And most of all the acting. Oh my god the acting. My favourite scene has got to be the tourist office, because oh my days have you seen the way Gareth David Lloyd plays Ianto? It gives me chills. After watching it, I rewatched Everything Changes and Ghost Machine because I never actually noticed Ianto in them, unless he's speaking. The only time you ever see him is when he intentionally draws attention to himself, which he rarely does. I watched them again, specifically focusing on Ianto. He's barely in them. He's one of the main 5 characters, but in the first three episodes he has one of the most minor roles. Like, you see him let Gwen into the Hub, delete the stuff she typed to make herself remember and see him introduced. That's it for episode one. And yes, everyone has a minor role in that, but you never actually see him as part of the team. He works alone, always.

Episode three really highlights that for me. He appears every so often with a funny comment. He has less screen time than Rhys. If it wasn't for the fact that I was actively thinking about him, I would have completely forgotten that he was there. One of his rare appearances really got to me - the ending. Jack gives him the ghost machine to put in the secure archives. That's normal, the archives are his area.

Except Jack doesn't even look at him. He just holds it out, like Ianto is a servant, not someone with years of experience dealing with aliens. Ianto worked at Torchwood One. He was the most qualified of anyone on that team when each of them joined. Owen was medically trained, but no experience with aliens. Tosh was a genius, but she had only experienced aliens through wrong blueprints of their technology, plus a charge of treason. Gwen had police training, nothing more. She got a job by being stubborn, and in the right place at the right time. Jack was reckless, dangerous, and did not want to join Torchwood. He only did it because he needed to do something in the 100+ years that he would be waiting for the Doctor.

Ianto had everything taken from him all at once, and nobody bothered to check on him. He looked fine, so they didn't give it any more thought. They of all people should know that that's not how it works. Ianto was repressing his grief, exhausting himself with the amount he worked both at his job and caring for Lisa. He never had any desire to cause anyone any harm. He was blinded by overwhelming grief. When humans experience loss, the automatic reaction is to cling to what you have. For most people, that means reaching out to friends and family, creating a support system. Ianto lost all his friends, all at once. We don't hear about his family until S3 (goddamn S3), but it's implied that they aren't close. I haven't listened to any of the audios, so if there's more to it than that then I don't know it.

Ianto had nothing, except an echo pretending to be Lisa. He did the most natural thing in the world, clung to what he had. Or at least, what he thought he had. Don't blame Ianto for the events of Cyberwoman. His actions correlate with normal reactions to grief. Yes, his actions were extreme. But so was his grief.

#ianto #ianto jones #cyberwoman #torchwood #im going insane #he's my baby boy #he does no wrong #he was the greatest guy around #idk im spiralling #i love this episode so much it hurts #like give it a chance #ignore the costume for a minute #did you see the look in his eyes? #that's first class acting #that's what you're missing

[nogoodninny]

watching Stolen Earth again, and my favorite moment is, and always be

The transmission coming in from the alien ship

Who is it?

Everyone was tuned in on their respective computers.

Then comes the voice.

EXTERMINATE!!

The terror on the faces of the Doctor’s former companions as they each hear that voice. The voice they could never forget. The voice that chilled them to their very core…

EXTERMINATE!!

Sarah Jane Smith holds Luke close. Her poor boy! He’s so young! She couldn’t protect him! Not from them. She herself has come face to face with the creator of these monsters. She knew how twisted and cold they can be.

She was there at the beginning, it’s only fitting she’d be there at the end.

EXTERMINATE!!

Captain Jack Harkness cries. He pulls Ianto and Gwen close and holds them tight. There is nothing he can do! So soon after losing two members of his found family, he will now have to say goodbye to the two most important people in his life. The two people that were his entire world. His best friend and the man he loved, gone. In a second. The worst part of it is, he knows exactly the pain they will feel when it happens. He knows what will happen. He’s felt it himself. After all, you never forget your first death

EXTERMINATE!!!

Martha Jones, surrounded by a military specially trained to fight the supernatural, and all of the sudden that doesn’t matter. There is not a military in the universe that could stand against them. Not one that could survive the onslaught. Dead, all of her coworkers, dead. Her family, dead. Humanity, dead.

She’s faces them in New York, she saw them take good people, people who only wanted to survive, and turned them into experiments. Into pigs. She stood against them and has seen what they are willing to do to survive, and it was horrifying.

EXTERMINATE!!!

Rose Tyler hears the voice through a laptop, alone in a trashed electronics store. Terrified. Rose Tyler is the only person who has ever shown mercy to these creatures. She made one feel. She stood by the Doctor when he was ready to give up. One of his darkest moments. But the Doctor chose coward over killer, even facing his worst enemy, even after he sent her away

But she found her way back to him. Rose Tyler looked into the heart of the TARDIS to find her way back and she saw them, and she made them no more, and it hurt. But she did it for him, and he saved her.

Her doctor. The one that grabbed her hand and told her to run. Her doctor who was fresh out of the Time War. The first time she’d ever seen him afraid, was when he simply looked upon one, one who was broken and chained and tortured. She had never seen her doctor show this much fear or anger. Now here she was, alone. Where was her Doctor? Her Allies? She has to find them. No one should have to face them alone.

EXTERMINATE!!!!

Now these people, who have dedicated their lives to protecting the earth when the Doctor wasn’t there, are facing such horrible creatures and he was nowhere to be found. And they couldn’t fight them alone, not these creatures, these horrible creatures

Not these creatures that have haunted every nightmare they’ve had.

Not these creatures that they all know the Doctor fears above all

The Daleks.

#doctor who #the stolen earth #rose tyler #sarah jane smith #captain jack harkness #luke smith #ianto jones #gwen cooper #tenth doctor #martha jones

[shejustcalledmeafish]

Jack/John/Ianto + "I envy anyone who has the privilege of being loved by you" please?

Jack slammed John up against the wall with a crunch. He didn’t particularly care which one of them he’d broken.

“Where’s Ianto?” Jack snarled. He’d been taken from the tourist office earlier that day, a golden glow opening under him and swallowing him and the chair he’d been sitting in. While Jack was reviewing the footage, his vortex manipulator had pinged with an alert that John was back in the area. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. So he’d left the care of the Rift to Gwen and her Welshmen, and drove like mad toward the hotel where John’s vortex manipulator was pinging.

He’d found the room, knocked on the door, and there he was. He didn’t look surprised to see Jack, and that just made him all the more angry. Now John was squirming underneath him, making those soft pained noises that used to make him go mad with worry. Right now, all Jack wanted to do was make him scream.

“Where is Ianto?” Jack repeated, tightening his grip. He glanced quickly around the room, it was a nice suite, with a bedroom and bathroom separate from the main area. Ianto could be just behind either of those doors, if John was stupid enough to keep him with him.

“I don’t know,” John snapped back. “If you lost your eye candy, why are you making it my problem?”

“It’s exactly your problem!” Jack barked. “Why else would you be here? You took him, and if you tell me where he is right now, maybe I won’t kill you for it.” John laughed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.

“And why would I fucking take him?” He stared at Jack reproachfully. “You know me, lover. Kidnapping’s not my speed. Especially when your heart isn’t exactly something I can demand as ransom.”

Startled and suddenly feeling a bit guilty, Jack let go of John and stepped back. John reached up to run his hands along his arms and collarbone.

“Aren’t you jealous of Ianto?” Jack asked, and then regretted it immediately. John looked at him sourly, hands falling to his sides.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I envy anyone who has the privilege of being loved by you.” A few moments passed, both men simply staring and breathing. Jack politely pretended that John’s eyes looked wet from the pain. “But that doesn’t mean I’d kidnap him. Again, not my style.”

Unfortunately, John was right. He didn’t stop Jack as he tore through the suite, frantically searching. He just got a shooter out of the mini fridge and drained it before sitting on the edge of the bed. Jack slammed the wardrobe doors shut and growled softly.

“Why’d you think I took him?” John asked softly. “Jealousy angle aside. Was I simply the easy scapegoat?”

“Why are you in Cardiff?” Jack asked, sharply cutting over John’s drawl.

“You don’t own this place. And you don’t own me.” John winked at him, and Jack had to resist the urge to do several unhelpful things.

“The CCTV showed Ianto disappearing into golden light, like your vortex manipulator.” Jack said, the words hurting. “Someone’s taken him, and if it wasn’t you, then I don’t know who. I don’t know how to find him. I don’t even know where to start.” John scoffed.

“You’ve really gotten pathetic.” John got to his feet. “Eye Candy’s gonna need my help to get back into your stupid himbo arms.” Jack just blinked at him as he strode confidently to the door. “C’mon then, show me the scene of the crime.”

“Why do you want to help me?” Jack asked, deeply suspicious. John just rolled his eyes.

“Do you think I have anything more interesting to do in Cardiff? Also I’m holding out hope that you’ll both be so grateful you’ll beg to thank me carnally.” John opened the door, and led the way with an elegant wave of his hand. “Tick tock, Jack, time is Eye Candy’s pretty body parts.”

“If Ianto gets hurt, I’ll kill you,” Jack swore before storming out the door. John sighed and closed the door behind him.

“At least if you kill me, you’ll have paid me some attention,” John muttered too low for Jack to hear before following after him.

#torchwood #my fic

[dracwife]

decorating.

ship: junto word count: 1179 summary: art trade w/ @iantistic ! i told u i would make them happy and god dammit i did. kind of.

"What'dya think about this one?" Ianto glances back. 

When he turns, however, he realizes quickly he is standing alone there in the aisle.

"Ju?" He spins, confused. Not but a moment ago was the other behind him, talking softly about the scent of the cinnamon spice candle he'd just offered, retorting that perhaps the silly name of "Fall Leaf Crunch" wasn't quite so appropriate for such a scent. 

Had he known purchasing decorations for the Headquarters was going to be such a difficult task, perhaps he would have put together a list beforehand, like normal.

"No need, you'll be in and out I'm sure," that's what Jack had assured him as both he and Juette were brushed out towards the street, bus pass in hand and nothing but a wallet full of cash and to be quite frank -- a nigh impossible dream of getting a Halloween party together on such short notice.

Most things in the store were picked over already, leaving cheap decorations behinds, the plastic kind with defects from the molds, and that smelled of low-budget, chipping paint, that kind of must you can only get from a mass-produced, capitalist warehouse somewhere in some cheap costing labor factory far, far away. And beside those, the crumpled paper decorations, cardboard ripped already and bent and folded in ways that make them almost impossible to parse without close inspection. A few acceptable packages, or at least to Ianto's standards, were strewn about as shoppers decided against their purchasing last minute, though they were sparse as it was and as a result nearly impossible to find amongst the disarray of shelves. 

See, the thing is, Ianto is a planner. He likes things neat and organized, simple and clean. When one faces such inexplicable chaos daily, it’s no wonder that when given the opportunity, he would much prefer the comfort of familiarity and predictability to counterbalance the rest.

His brows furrow, and he turns back towards the shelf, though as he turns the other way he finds just that very person he had been searching for, and startled, nearly drops the candle. 

“Ah, there you are,” his voice is low, and he consciously and carefully replaces the jar back on the shelf. 

“Yeah?” Juette asks, leaning the brunt of  their weight against him now. Their head falls to the side as they too begin reading the labels of the leftover candles, a few less-crumpled decorations in their arms, that they quickly dump into the basket Ianto carries. 

“Was just looking for you, is all,” he reasons, hesitant to snake an arm around their waist, and instead allowing his fingers to brush against their side before he retreats them to his own, “What’d you find?”

They glance down, with a soft “Uhm,” before mentally ticking off the items they had just carried over, “Couple of silly things. Those paper skeletons. And the foldable pumpkins. I figure we can hang some streamers, too.”

Ianto nods, and begins leading them down the aisles again.

“I miss wax warmers.”

He looks over at them curiously, “You miss them?”

Juette shakes their head, a silent ‘It’s a future thing’ ringing through the action. 

“We can get some Cider. I have a great latte recipe for it as well.”

They snake through the supermarket, grabbing the last of what they can, filling their autumn basket with all the orange and purples and greens they can hold, the treats and decorations and everything else they can possibly muster until at last they find themselves on the bus back home, quiet now in the small period between lunch and dinner, when everyone was still at work.

For a moment, Ianto almost craved that sort of normalcy, a simple nine-to-five, where you can be twenty minutes late and miss nothing, sit in your little cubicle of safety all day until the sun half set, when you would finally pack it up and get on the likely delayed bus home, TV dinner waiting in the freezer and the flat, dirty and disheveled just as you’d left it in a rush this morning, feeling only half homey, the other some detached, capitalistic nightmare. Ironically, what a dream it would be.

But that decidedly was not the life he chose to live. And he’s reminded as such as his phone goes off again, a text from Tosh now about calibrating something-or-other when he got back. A smile blooms over his face as the body next to him shifts, leaning against him, to remind him of where he is now, and the friends he’s made, the love he’s found not just in the team that waits for him -- as difficult as it may be for him to see at times -- but also in the only person he could now see himself ever spending the rest of his life with. He looks down at them again, with the grocery bags piled at their feet and in their lap, and he hugs his own bag closer, wanting desperately to just fall asleep here, let the bus take them on its route perhaps the rest of the night, give them a chance to relax in the serene eve like this. 

“It’s chilly out, you know?” he mumbles. Juette scoots closer, their bare arms bundling into the sheer sweater they wear. It’s endearing to him -- their commitment to their fashion. He would have expected the future to be different perhaps, though it was not so distant. It was a strange sort of comfort to know that maybe it would not be, that things wouldn’t change all that much, hopefully in the right ways. Or maybe they too were just a peculiarity, a victim of circumstances and sought also the comfort of nostalgia, which of course to him would have been the present. 

It was funny, the way they seemed to come together like this, bound so tightly by the minutest details despite being worlds apart. 

“It’s not so bad.”

Ianto smiles, just slightly. He does not admit he finds it amusing, not as his arm slips around their shoulders for him to hold them just a little closer. And as they arrive back at the familiar door, and as Ianto holds it open to help carry in the bags, he does not say just how much he enjoyed their trip together, even if it was as something as simple as shopping, a grueling task for many, but to him the highlight of the day. He does not mention he thinks they look particularly cute in the fishnets they’ve chosen today, or those black studded shorts, either. 

And he doesn’t mention how much he loves them, as they begin to decorate the HQ, arms brushing as he reaches above where Juette cannot to hang decorations, soft smiles and lips grazing perhaps once or twice, or not at all if anyone were to ask. 

But he doesn’t at all say any of these things, not aloud.

Likely because when their eyes meet, and they both smile, he doesn’t say, because he knows that all of them are better left unsaid.

#dex.trades

[toshsato]

Hug prompt 27, Gwen and Ianto?

27. piggy back hugs

thank you so much! <3 <3 also on ao3

"Gwen?" Ianto turned around and saw his partner on the ground.

They were running down an alleyway, close on the heels of another weevil, before Gwen tripped. It must have been a bad one, as she was clutching her ankle. "Shit!" she said.

Ianto turned his head to see the weevil running off. Damn it. "Are you all right?" he said, crouching down next to her.

"I'm fine. I don't think I can keep running. Did we lose it?" Gwen titled her head, peering around Ianto to try and spot the creature.

"I'm afraid so," Ianto admitted. He looked at her ankle. There was bone nearly jutting out at a weird angle. They needed to get back to the Hub.

"Sorry," said Gwen.

"Doesn't matter. Can you stand?" He stood up, offering her a hand, and she tried to use it to pull herself onto her feet, but she let out a hiss; having to lean some of her weight onto the coffee boy.

"I guess walking is out of the question."

"I can mange." She let go of Ianto and tried to take a painful step, clenching her teeth. He had to admire her persistence, even to the detriment of her own health.

"Hold onto me," he said, leaning down and turning his back towards her.

"What?" she said.

"I'll carry you back to the SUV."

"Ianto--"

"Gwen. You can't walk."

"Yes, I can."

"Well... you shouldn't. Jack will send you home early if you hurt yourself even more in the process." He looked over his shoulder at her.

She rolled her eyes fondly. "All right. All right." She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

Ianto held onto her legs, and then straightened himself, adjusting to the added weight. Slowly, but surely, the two made their way down the block to the parked SUV where Jack would be waiting.

Gwen pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, and then buried her face in the fabric of Ianto's waistcoat. "Thank you," she said, wrapping herself more tightly around him.

#torchwood #gwen cooper #ianto jones #gwen x ianto #myfics #my post #asks #torchwood-99

[ivegotforever]

“why do you have that look on your face?” from Astrid or Rose (whichever you would prefer.)

Rose. The captain's heart is hammering in his chest while his mind screams ' danger danger danger ' with so many memories swimming around his head. "No, no——" he can't think of what exactly to say. Happy? Scared? Infuriated? She shouldn't be here. Pete's World was closed—for the second time nonetheless—and there should have been absolutely no way for the worlds to bleed into one another again. So many mixed emotions are colliding as Jack stays stuck to his spot, unable to move an inch. He wants to believe that her presences is his mind simply succumbing to a relapse of insanity after the lose of Ianto, Tosh, and Owen. It's a perfectly understandable thing to think of first when you think about how stressful Jack's life has been. Except deep down he knows that isn't the case. She's here—impossibly standing before him as real as he was. He doesn't like how his fight-or-flight senses is triggered more to flight because he really is grateful to have this chance to see her again. Jack holds back the intense urge to turn from her, to walk away from what he assumes to be an inevitable danger to follow with her being back in his world. "How're you here Rose Tyler?"

doctor who : rose tyler quotes — sentence starters  —— @xchxsingcxrsx

#🇾🇴🇺'🇻🇪 🇬🇴🇹 🇶🇺🇪🇸🇹🇮🇴🇳🇸? 🇼🇪🇱🇱 🇮'🇻🇪 🇬🇴🇹 🇸🇴 🇦🇳🇸🇼🇪🇷🇸. ( 🇦🇸🇰 🇷🇪🇵🇱🇮🇪🇸 ) #xchxsingcxrsx #;though i would love to have a thread with Astrid #;Jack would not let me think of anyone but Rose

[theorphaninthetardis]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ianto doesn't question the Doctor, just scooping Sophie into his arms. He follows the Time Lady into her TARDIS. The Gallifreyan leads him through winding corridors. The Welshman would be remiss to say that he didn't want to explore the amazing ship, but follows the Doctor to the med bay.

The room is large, bright lights making the white walls and floor almost impossible to look at. There are a few medical tables, as well as many devices that Ianto can't even begin to guess the uses of. The farthest wall in the room is lined with shelves, some of then medical tools, while others seem specific for aliens.

The Doctor smiles, noticing the way the Welshman is looking around the room. She clears her throat, and Ianto snaps his head to the woman. "You can set her down here."

He snaps forward, placing the woman gently onto the chair that the Time Lord had indicated. As soon as Sophie is in the chair the Doctor moves beside her, grabbing a lot of equipment off the hook on the wall. As she moves around the room, she notices the Welshman standing awkwardly in the center of the room. "You can head back out if you want. I'm sure Graham, Yaz, and Ryan have some questions for you. I'll be out in a tic."

Ianto nods, turning out of the room. The Doctor looks over at Sophie, who smirks, although it looks more like a grimace. "What are the odds he actually makes it out of the TARDIS before you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'd say Mr. Jones' chances are better than most. The TARDIS really seems to like him."

"That's a good sign. I like him too. So, you said you could fix me up."

"I said the TARDIS could fix you up." The Doctor unwinds a a tube from her arm. She extracts a needle, fixing it to one end of the tube. She fastens the other end to a nozzle on the wall. Carefully the Time Lady rolls up Sophie's sleeve. "She's a lot better at all this medical stuff than I am." The Doctor cleans the inside of her elbow with a small wipe, and moves the needle for her arm, "This may hurt a bit, but you should fall unconscious soon. You'll be right as rain before you know it."

The woman nods, as the Gallifreyan injects the needle. The Doctor turns to leave the room. Sophie grabs her sleeve, causing the Time Lady to turn back. "Please, Doc, try to be careful. And, if at all possible, could you wait until after I'm healed to catch the alien? I'd like to meet them."

"Aw, don't worry, Jackie Lyn. Careful is my middle name," she winks. "As for catching this alien, I wouldn't dare let them leave without you getting a word in." She reaches toward the woman, placing a hand on her cheek, "Feel better, kiddo, I need my best mate fighting fit."

Sophie rolls her eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Go on, you got an alien to apprehend." She holds put her hand, her pointer and middle finger pulled away from her ring and small finger, "Live long and prosper, Doc."

The Doctor matches the hand motion, "Peace and long life, Jackie Lyn." The Time Lady quickly exits the med bay, dimming the bright lights and slowly letting the doors swing closed.

***

The Doctor exits the TARDIS to discover Ianto explaining the Rift to her companions. She smiles as the Welshman answers Graham's questions, not seeming the least bit annoyed at how basic they seem. The Time Lady claps her hands, pushing herself from her leaning position. "Right, we really must be heading to this crash site. I'm very curious as to what aliens these might be, and you know what they say, 'Curiosity killed the cat!'"

"And satisfaction brought him back," Ianto responds, almost as if it's instinctive. "The rest of the team has the Torchwood van, but that isn't our only mode of transportation."

"I swear, if you say Vortex Manipulator, I will leave, right now."

"Oh, no. Jack never lets us near his glorified watch." The Welshman leads the group into a garage like room, the lights slowly coming on as he moves. Theres and empty spot, with some different gadgets lying on the ground. Beside the empty parking spot is a small yellow car. A smile fills the Time Lady's face as she rushes at the speedster. She practically coos as she caresses the side of the car.

"Uh, Doctor," Yaz starts, "Do you need some time alone with the car?"

"Hm?" the Gallifreyan asks, spinning quickly to face her companion. "Sorry. Fam, meet Bessie, Bessie this is the fam."

The lights on the front of the car come on, and the horn honks. Ryan jumps back, nearly knocking Graham off his feet. Ianto smirks a small bit, approaching the car. "If we may, Bessie, Doctor, there is an alien crash site that could be helpful to see."

"Righto!" the Doctor say, swinging into the driver's seat. She waves Ryan, Yaz, and Graham in, while Ianto climbs in on the passenger side. Ianto, Ryan, and Yaz sit on the back bench, as Graham grabs the front seat.

Ryan glances at Yaz, "Does this thing even still run?"

The Doctor turns around, pointing a finger at her companion, "You can stay here if you want, Ryan Sinclair. Bessie is brilliant, and of course she works."

He holds up his hands in surrender, and the Time Lady faces front again, starting up the old speedster. The engine purrs as the Doctor backs out of the garage. "Where are we headed, Mr. Jones?" The Welshman rattles off an address and the Doctor smiles, "You may want to hold onto something," she says, pulling a large lever affixed to the dash. The car rockets off down the road, moving so fast you can't look around without getting ill. It takes the group less than five minutes to get to the destination, and as they exit the vehicle Ryan and Graham look a little queasy.

A bark of laughter resounds, and the group all turn to find Jack Harkness standing on the sidewalk, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets.

#Doctor Who fanfiction #Doctor Who

[thewearystoryteller]

‘Till Next Time, Ianto Jones

A Doctor Who/Torchwood Fanfiction

By, thewearystoryteller

One thousand, Seven hundred, Eighty Six

One thousand, Seven hundred, Eighty Six

The Archivist breathed out slowly, drumming it with his fingers one more time.


One- bum- thousand- bum bum- seven hundred- bum bum bum bum- eighty six- bum bum bum.

Damn, he was getting old.

“And who might you be?” A deep voice beside him shook The Archivist out of his reverie. He turned on his creaky old bar chair to face the stranger.

It was a human, taller than the Timelord by no more than enough to make him have to look up to meet his eyes. He had draped a dark blue greatcoat across the back of his stool, and it bore a captains rank on its collar. His brown hair was on the side of ‘just woke up,’ and his eyes were a haunting baby blue color that was perhaps the most beautiful thing The Archivist had seen.

The Timelord realized he had been staring. “Ianto Jones, sir.” The Archivist regained his senses, giving a sharp salute. Ianto. He’s known an Ianto once, in twenty second century Wales. Horrible man, but the Archivist had always loved the name. The Captain returned the salute. “Jack Harkness.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” The Archivist- Ianto, now- said, finishing off his drink and trying very hard to ignore how close the human was sitting.

“Trust me, the pleasures all mine.” Jack gave that smile again, and all Ianto could think was oh.

The band began to play, the pilot at the pianos fingers dancing out the beginning of a swing. The singer joined in, and eventually the trumpet picked up the melody. Ianto found himself nodding his head back and forth.

Jack stood. “May I have this dance, Mister Jones?” He asked in a teasing tone, holding out his hand. Ianto took it, following Jack onto the floor. He’d never been much of a dancer, back on Gallifey, and there hadn’t been a real chance to dance since then. But who was he to deny a handsome man a dance?

He’s not that handsome, Ianto chided his inner voice

Yes he is

The Singer began the chorus of the song just as they reached the floor.

You'd be so nice to come home to~

Jack pulled Ianto flush against him, feet expertly pulling them along. Ianto tried his best to keep up, and hoped Jack wouldn’t notice the way his two hearts beat out a crescendo against the other mans chest.


You’d be so nice, by the fire~


Others were staring, he knew, but in that moment, he couldn’t find it in him to care about humans fragile concept of love in this era. Ianto was in the here, in the now, and it felt like freedom he’d never had back home.

While the breeze on high sang a lullaby~

Jack leaned down, brushing his lips against Iantos, and one of his hearts must’ve stuttered because it felt like there was a hand in his chest and it was squeezing. He hadn’t met Jack but ten minutes ago, but his body reacted like it had known him a lifetime- lifetimes.

You'd be all that I could desire~

The rest of the song passed in a blur, Iantos head resting on Jacks shoulder as he got a hang of the footing and just focused on feeling.

You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise~

To come home to

and love~

Jack leaned down and pressed one more kiss to Iantos head before gently pulling away. By the time he had looked up, Jack had disappeared into the crowd. Ianto stood there, rooted to the spot even as the band began to play another piece and other couples began to dance around him.

“Hey, watch where youre going!” Someone bumped into him, and Ianto shook his head. He headed back to the bar, finding a note where Jacks coat had been resting.

‘Till next time, Ianto Jones,’ it read. Ianto stared at it for a few minutes, before slipping it into his pocket and slinging on his own coat.

The Archivist walked out of the bar, shaking Ianto Jones, wonderful, human Ianto Jones off and resuming the personality of a Timelord. He didn’t see Jack again that night, the cold snow helping him forget as he placed one foot in front of the other, focusing on returning to his TARDIS. To his home.

—————-

Somewhere across the city, the screech of a Type 40 who’s owner had left the breaks on broke the quiet of black out London.

There was something going on, though The Archivist didnt know it yet

It involved Jack Harkness, a Cthula warship, and a certain ‘Mr. Spock.’

There was something going on, and it was only the beginning of one long adventure.

—————-

The Archivist set the TARDIS for deep space, letting it go as it pleased. He should try traveling again sometime, The timelord thought. Maybe twenty first century Wales, after all, he did quite like Ianto, and the twenty first century was when all the fun stuff began to happen.

Jotting that down as a mental side note, the Archivist settled down on the console room bench, pulling out a small piece of paper from his breast pocket. The ink was smeared from his fingers, but still legible.

‘Till next time, Ianto Jones.’

THE END

THANKS FOR READING.

The song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZO-fdsm6Xyw

#Ianto Jones #Jack Harkness #Janto #Doctor Who #fanfiction #Timelord Ianto Jones #The Empty Child AU #Youtube

[spaceskam]

and as our lives change

Summary: Alex’s dad sold his childhood home without telling him, so Michael decides to do something about it.

Tags: sexual content (literally just the first scene), emotional hurt/comfort, friends with benefits, lack of communication

ao3

Michael watched as Alex’s head fell back, his jaw dropping as he caught his breath.

He swallowed hard, his eyes scanning over Alex’s body where it was perched on top of his in a way that felt like a renaissance painting. He was stunning. And Michael really, really didn’t know what to do about that realization. Or, he didn’t know what to do about the constant revelations he was having when it came to Alex.

Michael was straight and frustrated when this whole thing began. A weird string of events, mostly him whining and Alex being Alex, led to him getting a handjob from Alex on the couch in the apartment he shared with Max. There was no kissing or any kind of romantic shit afterward or during or before. Alex just politely went and washed his hands with a ‘will you be able to focus now?’ and they got back to their work. Michael was absolutely not able to focus.

The first time he was able to convince himself that it was just a thing between bros. No feelings, nothing weird, it was just clinical and casual. But Michael couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t stop having an entire crisis over it.

And yet, the next time he was alone with Alex in the apartment, he found himself with his hand between Alex’s thighs.

It kept happening and escalating. They didn’t talk about it or make rules or establish boundaries‒which was an admittedly bad thing‒but they seemed to both understand that they didn’t kiss, they didn’t do anything that could be perceived as romantic, and they didn’t acknowledge it. It did leave Michael to have his bisexual awakening through a series of borderline panic attacks followed by getting Alex to do whatever to clear his mind. He didn’t know if Alex knew exactly what he was clearing, but it didn’t matter.

Michael was 99.9% sure he wasn’t straight now and 87% sure he wasn’t just gay. Sometimes Alex would do something like stick his fingers inside him and order him to continue reciting his presentation without mistakes and he would consider the idea that maybe he actually was gay and the reason it didn’t feel like this with every girl he’d been with was because he was gay. But then he remembered that it didn’t feel like this with every girl he’d been with because he usually barely knew them.

He knew Alex.

He liked Alex.

It was just… a little confusing on what kind of like. Alex was his best friend and he didn’t want to screw that up. He was sure that if they just kept it like this, then they wouldn’t change anything and they could continue to just be best friends. But then he would find himself staring at Alex when there were other people around and it would make him question if things were actually still normal at all.

“Fuck, you’re getting better at that,” Alex said, pulling off of Michael with an objectively disgusting and yet still horribly enticing sound.

“Honestly, I feel like you did all the work,” Michael said. Alex huffed a laugh and cautiously got off the bed. Standing up, Alex looked even more like a work of art.

“Yeah, but the first few times I still did all the work and you were still lacking.”

“Hey!”

“Just being honest.”

Michael licked his lips and watched as Alex walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he found a rag with practiced ease. His back was muscular and still a bit flexed and Michael’s eyes followed it all the way down to his ass that was, admittedly, quite a mess and still just. There. For Michael to see. And to think he thought he was straight for so long.

They didn’t talk about things like that. Michael knew that was objectively bad, but it felt good. He liked Alex just taking over and doing what he wanted to him. It was just. A little confusing. Because they weren’t dating and this was something that very clearly had a time limit. Things would have to change eventually, just he didn’t know in what direction he wanted them to change in. Or what he was allowed to have them change in.

So he kept his eyes on Alex and watched as he cleaned himself off. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught Michael’s eye and grinned.

“I’m beginning to think you’ve got a staring problem,” Alex said, but then he had the audacity to stretch up. He brought himself to his toes and reached for the ceiling and let out a little moan as his shoulder popped. Michael’s head felt empty.

Alex washed the rag out and then came back to the bed, tossing it onto his stomach before he went to go find his clothes. Michael seemingly had to reboot his brain and couldn’t get himself to clean up until after Alex put his briefs back on.

Yes, things were weird and he didn’t quite understand how he got to this point, but he didn’t really want it to stop either. He wanted Alex to keep doing shit like this and smiling at him and maybe even kissing him if, you know, he felt like it. Michael would be lying if he didn’t think about kissing him more than he thought about sleeping with him.

“Okay, I hate to fuck and kick you out, but I’ve got plans,” Alex said once Michael was done and slowly trying to find his own clothes. That was enough to get Michael’s full attention.

“Plans? It’s already nighttime,” Michael pointed out. Alex just gave that little grin of his and shook his head.

“Sweet little innocent Michael.”

“I don’t think any of the shit we do qualifies as innocent,” Michael shot back. Alex smiled wider.

Michael wasn’t jealous. He didn’t even know what Alex was doing, how could he be jealous of something he didn’t even know anything about? He wasn’t. He just very much did not enjoy the idea of Alex going out with someone else after the sun had gone down. Not for any selfish reason, but for the fact that nothing good happened after the sun went down and he told Alex as much.

“What are you, my grandma?” Alex laughed. He double-checked that Michael had his jeans and boxers on before opening the door which was the real sign that this was actually over for the night.

Ianto, Alex’s kitten‒that technically wasn’t a kitten anymore but Michael would never stop calling him that‒strolled in like she owned the place. Michael grinned as he immediately came to rub against his leg. He didn’t have to look up to know Alex was rolling his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Michael cooed, reaching down to scratch his head, “Your dad is kicking me out to do secret things.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, “I’m not kicking you out. If you wanna stay, you can, but I won’t be here.”

“What are you doing that’s so late, though?” Michael asked, looking up to him. Alex sighed as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“I’m just meeting someone,” Alex said. Something twisted in Michael’s gut as he stared at him. Someone.

“Like… a date?” Michael asked. Alex took a deep breath and Michael knew that it was true. He was seeing someone.

Which. Was fine. Michael just thought he had more time. More time to understand what the fuck he was feeling, more time to get good at it, more time for whatever. That was. Okay.

“I mean… Not quite. Just, you know, someone,” Alex said, shrugging and looking away.

The way he spoke about it was almost worse than if he just said that he was trying to date people. Before they started this whole thing, Alex had always been honest about who he was seeing. Michael had a ton of memories and texts of Alex telling him about guys he’d been with. They were friends. But things had changed.

“Okay,” Michael said, standing up and quickly putting on his shirt and grabbing his phone, “Then I’ll leave.”

“Well, don’t be mad,” Alex said. Michael closed his eyes for a moment and then set back into motion to look for his shoes.

“I’m not mad. I just don’t wanna hold you up,” Michael said. Since I clearly couldn’t satisfy you, he didn’t say.

He tried not to let his ego be too bruised. It happened. Alex was the first and only guy Michael had been with. Of course he would want someone more experienced.

“Michael,” Alex said, grabbing his arm. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked a bit lost. “Do you wanna talk about this or something?”

“No,” Michael said simply. They didn’t talk about this. Talking about it now would make it weird.

He pulled out of Alex’s grasp and put his shoes on, giving Ianto a couple more pets before he headed for the door. Alex didn’t try to stop him and that was telling enough. Tomorrow, maybe, Michael would text him or talk to him and they’d go on as normal. It made him feel a little weird, though, thinking about Alex sleeping with other people and not telling him about it. Wasn’t that, like, a rule of casual relationships? You let people know? Was he getting tested?

It didn’t matter. They were friends. This was fine.

-

Michael waited a whole three days without texting Alex first.

He couldn’t say why exactly he was choosing to be pouty and just choosing to let Alex be the one to reach out, but he was and he wasn’t really having much of an internal fight about whether he should reach out or not. He was going to let Alex do that, even if he missed him, because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Well, that and he was a little bit irritated, but he could focus on the not wanting to be clingy thing and feel better about himself afterward.

It was probably normal to get weirdly attached to the first guy you sleep with whether there were romantic feelings or not. He didn’t want to be attached to Alex, at least not like that. He wanted to be friends with him. Friends who slept together sometimes.

Michael just wasn’t sure if he could keep that up much longer.

And yet, when it hit the three day mark, he was tossing and turning and bed and craving Alex in some capacity. They didn’t even have to hook up, he just needed his friend. They could watch movies or do homework or literally anything and they didn’t have to talk. They had never gone this long without at least a meme or two sent between them. Weirdness from the other day aside, this was particularly annoying.

Michael pulled out his phone and let his thumb hover over Alex’s contact. He just had to hit it and ask if Alex wanted to come over. He could do that. Easy. Just hit it.

“What are you doing?” Max asked, breaking Michael’s mental discussion. For the first time, he was a little bit thankful that Max had basically no boundaries when it came to Michael’s personal life. At least it provided a distraction.

“Thinking about inviting Alex over, if that’s okay,” Michael said, tossing his phone onto the couch as he stood up. He needed a break from looking at it anyway. Max nodded his head, looking through the contents of the refrigerator.

“Sure, if he wants to after everything,” Max said. Michael’s eyebrows tugged together.

“What do you mean, after everything?” he wondered, standing up a little bit straighter. Instantly, his brain started filling with thoughts of what could’ve happened, all of which were probably over the top and wrong because if it was something dire like Alex getting hurt, there was no way Max would know before him.

It didn’t stop his mind from racing.

“He didn’t tell you?” Max asked. Michael shook his head and Max shrugged, taking his sweet damn time. “Oh, well, Liz said that his dad apparently sold the house he grew up in back in Roswell without telling him. Got rid of all of his and his brother’s shit without telling them and it’s apparently sold. I don’t know, if I were him, I’d be upset.”

Michael started at the back of his head, momentarily unmoving. His first thought was if he threw out Alex’s mom’s things too or if he kept it. He thought about the closet door that had his height marked alongside his brothers that the four of them secretly kept up after their mom left. He thought about the things Alex always said he was going to go back and get whenever he got his own place in the future, the quiet little admissions Alex only made whenever he was either drunk or one of them did something particularly mindblowing in bed that left them both a little hazy afterward.

Without replying to Max, Michael grabbed his phone and went to go find his shoes. Finally, without hesitation, he called Alex and held the phone to his ear as he fumbled to slide on his shoes. It rang and rang and rang and Michael was pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer, but he still grabbed his keys and went out the door.

Right before it went to voicemail, Alex answered.

“Hello?” he said. His voice was a little flat but otherwise didn’t give anything away about how he was feeling.

“Hey, how are you?” Michael wondered, stepping into his truck and pulling the door closed. He started it up and quickly put on his seatbelt.

“Fine,” Alex said. It didn’t count as an actual response because it was Alex and ‘fine’ didn’t actually mean anything. He’d said he was fine while having a panic attack in the library while trying to write an essay on some dumb book that touched on one too many heavy topics for the both of them.

“Okay, are you at your apartment? Is your roommate there?” Michael asked, backing up probably a little too fast but who cares. He didn’t hit anyone.

“I’m here, but Chris isn’t. Why?” Alex said, skepticism still lingering in his voice.

“I heard about your house,” Michael said. Alex stayed quiet. “Look, have the new people started moving in yet?”

“No,” Alex said softly, “Flint said they close tomorrow at two.”

“Okay. Next question, how do you feel about trespassing?”

-

Michael could feel Alex’s eyes on him as he moved about his kitchen, throwing shit together to make him something better than plain packaged ramen. He was blowing time, waiting for the sun to fall.

“We don’t actually have to,” Alex said. He was in a sweater and sweatpants and his hair was all tousled. Michael could only look at him for a few seconds at a time or he’d lose his mind over how cute he was. So, so not straight. “It’s over an hour away and illegal and we don’t have to.”

“If they haven’t sold it yet, I don’t think it’s illegal and I’m not going to google it because it’s much better if I just say it very convincingly,” Michael insisted, taking a spice bottle out of the cabinet that had the label removed and sniffing it. He coughed a few times, but it smelled like it was probably garlic powder so he threw it into the saucepan.

Ianto was rubbing against Michael’s legs, meowing away at the serious offense that he was taking due to Michael not giving him his full attention. He kept lifting his foot to stroke his back, but that was only so satisfying to a bratty little kitten.

When Michael looked at Alex, he looked like he was about to cry. His eyebrows were drawn together and his eyes were all glassy and he was all but pouting. Michael quickly moved the saucepan to another burner before turning around completely and reaching over the sink to get to Alex’s face since he was sitting at the counter. He held his face between both hands and looked him very seriously in the eye, something he’d do all the time when they were just friends before they made it weird between them.

“Hey, don’t cry, we’re going to see if there’s anything left,” Michael said, squishing his cheeks just a little bit. Alex huffed a laugh and pushed him off carefully.

“I’m not gonna cry and I’m sure as hell not gonna cry over that. My dad’s an asshole, but I should’ve expected him to do something like this,” Alex said. Michael pinched and prodded his cheeks for an extra second for emphasis until he got Alex to smile as he twisted out of his grasp. “Michael.”

“Stop looking so sad then,” Michael said, going back to cooking.

They haven’t mentioned the other day. Michael had no plans to be the one to bring it up.

“I’m fine,” Alex said, “I just hate him.”

“I’ll beat him up for you,” Michael offered before lifting the spoon to his lips. It tasted good enough.

Michael filled a bowl with slightly under-cooked noodles because Alex was fucking weird and spooned his makeshift sauce onto it. He stuck a fork into it and turned around to present it to Alex, giving him a smile. Alex was already giving him that look, the really sweet one he really only gave him out of nowhere and Michael had yet to really pinpoint what caused it.

Still, he liked being looked at like that.

“Thank you,” Alex said, accepting the plate, “You’re a good friend.”

Friend.

“No problem.”

-

Michael had only been to Alex’s childhood home twice and he had never been inside.

Both times were during their freshman year, while Alex was living in a dorm still and needed to go home every once in a while to get clothes or whatever. Michael had driven him and gotten to know him super well in those long car rides together and had also gotten very used to comfortable silences with him.

Now, Alex sat in the passenger seat and had his head against the window. His eyes were closed and he was so very clearly sad. Michael hated seeing him that way. He didn’t know how to fix it. Especially since this situation wasn’t something he could really fix.

“So,” Michael said, trying to lighten the mood, “How was your date?”

Alex was quiet for a moment before he huffed and tilted his head in Michael’s direction. Michael kept his eyes forward after that.

“Seriously?” Alex asked. Michael shrugged. “Now you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not trying to have a formal talk, just making conversation. You used to tell me about your dates all the time,” Michael said. Before we started hooking up, he didn’t say.

Alex didn’t say anything for a small stretch of time before he eventually said, “It wasn’t a date, I was going to meet up with Kyle but I knew you’d freak out if we were speaking again, so I didn’t say anything.”

Michael felt a rush of emotions at that, blinking a few times as he processed it.

“As in… Valenti?”

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. Michael couldn’t help the look of disgust that found his face. “Exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Nah, it’s fine, whatever, I’m not your boss,” Michael said, trying to seem like he didn’t care. There was no reason to care. Alex wasn’t his property.

“Right.”

“I was just asking.”

“And even if it was a date, it’s none of your business,” Alex said, though it had admittedly less of a bite than it sounded like he intended. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Just because we’re, like, hook‒”

“Do I turn left or right up here?” Michael asked, cutting him off. He didn’t want to talk about this. They didn’t talk about it. That would fuck everything up, that would force Michael to think too hard about something he probably already thought too hard about and he just simply wasn’t interested.

Alex took a deep breath and grumbled a ‘right’.

So Michael took a right.

He drove through the middle-class neighborhood, full of white people who had pools in their backyards and fences and an HOA that would probably make Michael cringe if he looked at the rules. Without much thought, he pulled into the little park that was in the middle of the neighborhood and parked his truck. Alex looked at him with a bit of skepticism.

“If I park in the driveway, it’s gonna be kinda obvious that someone is there,” Michael pointed out.

“Okay,” Alex agreed, stepping out of the truck.

The two of them walked side-by-side in the dark, only lit by streetlights. It was entirely possible there was some kind of neighborhood watch or maybe kids coming home from a date or people taking a late-night run, someone that would see them, but Michael didn’t see anything and decided to just act normal.

“It’s up here,” Alex said, voice soft. Whether that was because of the time of night or because of the fact he was seeing his house again, Michael wasn’t sure.

“Do you have a key still?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Can’t hurt to try. Besides, if they haven’t officially closed on it yet, there’s probably a key under a mat somewhere or something,” Michael said. Alex nodded.

As they got closer, Alex didn’t say a single word. They went around back through the unlocked gate and he pulled out his keys, hands shaking a bit as he went to try it. Michael put his hand on the small of his back as a silent way to show his support.

The key fit in and turned with ease.

Alex let out a soft breath as he pushed the door open, blinking as he stared inside. Michael watched his face and waited for him to make the first move. This was for Alex. Michael very specifically chose not to think about why he was willing to go so far for Alex, possibly break the law.

Alex swallowed hard and took a step inside. Michael followed suit.

He stayed quiet as Alex navigated the empty house. There were no pictures or anything furniture left, just a dishwasher and an over and an empty space where a refrigerator was meant to go. Alex dragged his fingers over the countertop and slowly walked into the living area. That was even more empty, the space looking small without anything to fill it.

“The couch that was here had, like, three bloodstains from Clay because he had nosebleeds a lot,” Alex said, gesturing to the area it once was, “I think one of the stains might’ve been mine.”

“We can make new stains,” Michael offered. Alex physically cringed, his nose scrunching up, and laughed softly.

“You’re so fucking gross,” Alex said despite the sweetness of his tone.

“I meant innocent stains, like nosebleeds,” Michael insisted, raising his hands up. Alex rolled his eyes as a smile found his face, holding out his hand.

“Come on, let me show you upstairs.”

Michael accepted his hand and let him lead the way.

The stairs were simple and the hallway was small, jutting out in two different directions from the top of the staircase. It was all only lit by the moon and street lights shining through the window at the end of the hall. Alex tugged on his hand, pulling him to the left that led to two doors. He opened one without hesitation, tugging Michael inside.

The walls were painted an off-white color and the carpet was beige, perfectly standard. Nothing stood out except for the way Alex was holding his breath. Michael squeezed his hand and stepped closer.

“This was your room?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed and nodded, looking in Michael’s direction. Alex looked over his face before they locked eyes, taking a moment to just stare. He looked pretty like this. “Tell me what it looked like.”

“Okay, so,” Alex whispered, still not letting go of his hand as he took him to the far corner, “This is where my desk was. I wrote all my cringey poetry there. Had my first kiss while sitting there.”

“You did? That’s so cute,” Michael cooed, imagining a flustered, teenage Alex after getting his first kiss against his desk.

He knew Alex was actually upset when he didn’t shove him or tell him to shut up. Instead, he just pulled him to another space.

“My dresser was here. I hid shit in my folded pants to try to keep them from my dad,” Alex said, then tugged him a little further, “And my bed was here.”

“Did you do anything fun in that bed?” Michael teased. Alex didn’t bother laughing as he sat on the ground, laying down where his bed would’ve been. Michael laid beside him. “Are you okay?”

“I never wanted to come back here,” Alex whispered. Michael held his breath. “I hate my dad. I hate this place. But… he couldn’t even let me have even the shit I did want. Like, I have my mom’s guitar and, and stuff I use, but the dumb stuff.”

“I get it,” Michael said. And he did, kind of, one some level. Bouncing around and living in  group homes didn’t really present the best opportunity to accumulate dumb stuff, but he cherished the shit he did have.

Alex rolled onto his side and stared at him. Michael stared back. It was completely not the time for it, but Michael wanted to kiss him. Just once, really quick. Just to see what it felt like.

The room was silent as Alex reached across to him, touching his shoulder gently and gliding his fingertips across his neck. Michael watched him closely and waited to see what he was going to do. He didn’t move as Alex touched his jaw or his hair, didn’t flinch when he traced over his ear and his nose, didn’t breathe when he touched his lips.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” Alex whispered, “ I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. What are friends for?” Michael responded. Alex’s eyes flickered between meeting his gaze and going down to another part of his face, wasting a few seconds before he parted his lips to speak again.

“That’s what we are? Just friends?” Alex clarified, “Even after‒”

“When did you want to head back?” Michael asked, really not wanting to ruin the mood by thinking about things. About specifics. About himself.

But unlike every other time he deflected, Alex snatched his hand away from him like he’d been burned. He’d physically moved back a bit and hurt was openly displayed on his face in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Micheal was a little speechless.

“Why do you always do that?” Alex asked quietly, “Why do you never want to talk about it? Are you that ashamed of what we do? If you are, I don’t think I can do this anymore. It doesn’t feel good.”

“What? No, Alex, I’m not ashamed,” Michael insisted. And he wasn’t. Overwhelmed was a much better word. “It-It’s just new and I don’t know how to really process what I’m feeling and I don’t want to push it.”

“That’s when you’re supposed to talk. Talking keeps people on the same page and makes things easier. So talk to me. Tell me what you want, tell me boundaries, tell me something. Fucking talk to me,” Alex snapped. Michael blinked, eyes wide as he looked at him.

And for the first time probably ever, his mind went blank.

Every thought and idea he’d ever had regarding Alex Manes went flying out of his mind. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted or any boundaries or literally anything. All he could do was stare. Even as Alex visibly got upset, even as Alex sat up and put his hands behind his head and effectively shielded Michael from seeing his face.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, the only thing that could come to his mind, and debatably the wrong thing.

Alex gripped his hair in his hands tighter.

“You don’t have to like me like that. I don’t care either way. But you not telling me what you want is going to drive me insane. If you just want to be friends or if you just want to keep hooking up, that’s fine, but fucking talk to me!”

Michael opened his mouth to find something to say, literally anything, but instead, he heard a noise.

“What was that?” he whispered. Alex furrowed his eyebrows as he lifted his head. Another sound came, like a door opening.

“Oh, I can’t believe leaving it unlocked worked!” a voice said from downstairs, the emptiness of the house carrying it to their ears. Michael and Alex shared equally panicked looks.

“Well, it is our house,” the other voice said.

“Closet,” Alex hissed and they both quickly and quietly scrambled into the closet, closing the door behind them.

It was small and definitely not a walk-in, but they were able to press on opposite sides of the tiny space and not have to worry about touching. They both stayed as silent as possible, listening to the couple downstairs. Thank fuck he didn’t park his truck in the driveway.

But then the couple wasn’t downstairs, they were running upstairs and laughing and going to the other rooms across the hall. It would’ve been cute and charming if Michael wasn’t scared he was about to get caught and arrested for trespassing. But, considering they didn’t technically own it yet, didn’t they technically count as trespassing as well?

It was hard to really see Alex because of the dark, but, if he focused, he could sort of see his silhouette. He was probably still angry at Michael. Maybe he deserved it. Seriously, how ironic was it that they were stuck in a closet? Maybe they really should talk.

However, that only held his focus for so long when the door to Alex’s bedroom opened. Michael held his breath, listening and hoping they didn’t open the closet door.

“We’re gonna put the crib here,” the woman said as she stepped into Alex’s room, “And we’re going to paint the walls something more fun than this. Like, a purple, maybe.”

Michael kept his eyes locked on Alex’s body in the dark, trying to gauge the body language he couldn’t fucking see. He tentatively reached out, but he only felt air as if Alex had pressed himself so far into the opposite wall that he was trying to become a part of it.

“It’s gonna be perfect,” the man said, a rustle of clothing following his voice, “Our own house, our own little family.”

The woman laughed and the sound of kissing filled the room, loud and happy.

“New, happy memories. Especially once the baby comes,” she said, her voice warm and content. They kissed more, laughing and touching, and, god, this was too much of an invasion of privacy.

But all Michael could think of was Alex.

It probably wasn’t the best thing to be listening to how happy these strangers would be in the house that you found so miserable. A happy, young family, no less. Even Michael felt kind of cynical and jealous about it, though he often did when he saw loving parents.

Michael carefully pushed off the wall and took a silent step forward, hoping not to make any noise as the couple kissed and distracted themselves. He touched Alex’s waist and patted his way up to his face. Alex’s lips were folded in and his cheeks were wet, his breathing dangerously controlled. It was more than a little heartbreaking.

He took a step closer, wrapping his arms around Alex as quietly and slowly as possible so Alex could do something if he didn’t want him to touch him. He’d understand if he didn’t. But Alex didn’t push him away, instead letting his face fall into the crook of Michael’s neck. Michael put his hand on the back of his head and kept his arm around him, keeping him safe. Alex’s fingers clutched his shirt.

And, at that moment, he realized that he never wanted to stop doing that. He really, sincerely, wished to stay right there forever.

“Okay, okay, we should go finish packing,” the woman said and Michael really wished they would go. He weaved his fingers into Alex’s hair and held him a little tighter. 

“One more kiss,” the man said. They laughed and shared another kiss or two before they eventually left the room.

Michael held onto Alex and they stayed silent until they heard the footsteps go down the stairs and out the door. It echoed through the empty house as it closed. Only then did Alex give a small sniffle and took a heavy breath, clutching Michael tighter.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispered, closing his eyes as he held him, “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed there until Alex stopped crying, until he got his breathing under control, and Michael held him. He took the time to let his thoughts come to him, trying not to overthink anything and just let himself feel. What did he want? What kind of relationship with Alex did he want? What felt right?

And for once that answer came easy.

-

“I don’t want to be just friends.”

“Oh yeah? Took you that long to come to that conclusion?”

Michael rolled his eyes and scooted closer even though there wasn’t much space to eliminate. The drive back Alex’s apartment from his old house had been utterly silent, but Alex had stayed tucked into Michael’s side as if he was meant to be right there. All it did was confirm to him even more what he wanted.

They got into his apartment and Michael didn’t want to leave him alone. Alex, thankfully, didn’t want to be left alone. He was so clearly exhausted and they had pretty much immediately crawled into bed, laying as close as possible and fully clothed. Ianto, the brat he was, had happily decided to lay against his back which had Michael pinned between the cat and Alex.

Michael never wanted to leave.

“No, I’ve known that but that’s scary,” Michael said, shrugging, “And I wasn’t sure if it was just because of the sex or not.”

“Are you sure now?” Alex asked. His eyes were still a little puffy and Michael just adored him.

“I think so,” Michael said, “I know I never want to not be holding you when you’re sad.”

Alex huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, but he nudged his nose into Michael’s.

“I want to talk,” Michael continued, “Which is… terrifying, but I want to. ‘Cause I was kinda mad when I thought you were sleeping with other people. I want to be the only person you’re sleeping with. So, I want to talk and I want to set boundaries. I want… I want to be gross and happy like that stupid couple that broke in.”

Alex smiled slightly, his fingers slipping beneath Michael’s shirt just to rest against his bare skin.

“Okay,” Alex said, “In the morning?”

“Obviously. You need cuddles and sleep right now,” Michael insisted. Alex rolled his eyes again, but he moved forward to lay his head on Michael’s chest. It was a little strange because they’d never actually cuddled like this before.

What the hell had he been wasting all this time for?

“And in the morning,” Michael added, wrapping his arms around Alex, “I’m going to kiss the shit out of you. Like it’s gonna be the best kiss you’ve ever had. I’m gonna blow you away. If you want, I mean.”

Alex laughed, a genuine laugh that Michael hadn’t heard in far too many days. That was a good thing.

“I want it. I can’t wait.”

Neither could Michael.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

[torchwood-99]

👀

Right! Here is a long, long extract. Pretty much the entire start of a fic I will probably never finish and has been languishing in my folder for months. It is about time it sees the light of day.

Here is my attempt at a Torchwood/Hunger Games AU, featuring Mentor!Ianto and Tribute!Gwen

TW warning for references to sexual exploitation

“Your pair might have a chance this year,” Jack had whispered into Ianto’s ear the night before the departure. “The arena’s going to be nautical, sea and fish and boats. That gives your guy and gal a leg up. Half the tributes are never able to swim.”

Ianto didn’t ask how Jack knew this. The Capitol’s golden boy had a way of winkling out little tidbits, charming out snatches of information that were worth more than gold. Certainly worth more than a Victor’s dignity.

Ianto had just buried deeper into Jack’s arms and wondered how it was that despite everything, Jack could still make those moments between them special. Loving and tender and not...what it was usually like.

“Maybe I did something to please the boss,” Ianto had suggested lightly, wishing Jack hadn’t mentioned it. Jack was only trying to keep his spirits up, put some hope into him before they got onto the train. But Ianto couldn’t bear getting his hopes up. He had made that mistake in his first year, mentoring Lisa. It was Jack’s tribute who came out that year. Ianto hated Jack back then.

And Owen he hated, the District 2 wastrel who had won the Capitol over with his sharp tongue and brutal kills. Owen had spent the years since training as a physician, tending to the poorer citizens of his district, as though saving enough lives would clear the blood from his hands. Ianto had long forgiven Owen for Lisa. For Owen it was a greater trial

None of them had ever forgiven themselves for what they did in the arena, but then, Ianto wondered if he felt as much guilt as he should have. For all that it cost him, he couldn’t quite regret saving his own life. Not guilty enough to feel properly noble, to martyr himself under the weight of his shame and polish up a halo, but too guilty to move on and wake up each morning without the tang of blood in his mouth.

It was a stupid combination, if he did say so himself.

Jack’s words seemed like a cruel jape. Ianto had kept his eyes fixed on the row of twelve year old girls, where his little niece had taken her place for the first time. The weeks spent leading up the games had Ianto frantically searching his mind for a moment when he might have offended the Capitol, won himself a slap on the wrist.

It wasn’t Micah, but a much dreaded moan rippled through the crowd as the twelve year olds parted for one of their own. Emma-Louise Cowell was less shabby than most children, her printed frock not quite so ragged. Ianto doubted her family took the tesserae, but her name had been called all the same. Typical Games. Even when the odds were in your favour, you lost.

He kept his face fixed in a small, gentlemanly smile. Displaying all the manners and poise for which he was known. The baby-faced gentleman, so adored. The cooing ladies of the Capitol had won him his life, and expected payment in turn.

High on heels and looming in black satin, Yvonne Hartman, the District escort, tried to leave a round of applause, which was cut short by a scuffle in the back of the crowds. Someone trying to break through the crowds, fighting off the arms and hands holding her back.

Ianto closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. The parents, no doubt, making a desperate bid to get to their girl. He just prayed that they could be subdued before severe measures were taken. For infractions such as these, disciplinary measures were usually avoided, the Capitol taking a gentle hand for once. What greater punishment was there than watching your child butchered for sport?

The poor child was only twelve, it was only to be expected that Mum and Dad would make a grab for her.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

That, on the other hand, was less expected.

“Your girl made quite a show,” Jack drawled down the line, “Already getting some attention.”

Ianto had paused the playbacks to take Jack’s call. He was watching alone, and thankful for it, now that Jack had called, even if the kids would have been wiser for watching. Yvonne had tried to chivy the tributes into the plush lounge, to join for the replays, but they remained huddled in their rooms. For all that, the escort was in a good mood, crowing over the excitement her lady tribute had won.

Ianto looked at the paused screen. The camera had remained fixed on Miss Gwen Cooper’s face all throughout the anthem. Poor Bernie Harris, who needed to be carried onstage and vomited all over Ianto’s new dress shoes, had barely received a look in.

Gwen Cooper had to wrench herself from the grip of two boys who had futilely tried to drag her back into place. A tall lanky boy with sandy hair, and a shorter, stouter one. Agonised wails could be heard, but Miss Cooper had kept her eyes on the stage, wrenching herself free from her peers’ grips. The camera had caught her faltering slightly under the touch of the stockier boy, before her face hardened and she sent him flying back.

It was a very good shot. Vulnerable, yet strong. Even Ianto took some heart from it. It was promising she could put on a brave face, power through. And the Capitol would lap up the slightest hint of young love, and tragic romance.

She had very big eyes, doe eyes. Striking colouring with dark hair and pale skin. They had zoomed right into her face, capturing her frantic eyes and the dark strands falling over pale face. Her full red lips crying those fatal words. There were freckles and a gap in her front teeth, the type of thing an unimaginative stylist would order tidied away. Ianto made a note to inform the stylist that the gap and freckles were to be left intact. Anything that could lend her face distinction. And they made her look endearing. Innocent. If she could pull off some savage kills it would make a charming contrast. The pale skin splattered in freckles and blood.

“I think she’s got spirit,” Jack mused. “A spine. You might have a fighter on your hands”

“Right now, my fighter is sobbing in her bedroom, curled up under her duvet, not doubt crying for Mum," Ianto said dryly. “How are your tributes?”

“Careers,” Jack said in that blank, even way of his. Ianto decided to probe no further. “I have to hang up,” Jack said reluctantly, “The boss wants me working tonight.”

Ianto’s stomach dropped. He didn’t ask what sort of work, it was safer that way. There was nothing he could do for Jack, but there were two tributes who he could maybe do something for.

Bernie Harris, Ianto quickly surmised, was a no goer. Quick, not too unfit, but there was no courage in him, no grit. Ianto had given him some kindly words, assured him he would do everything he could to help him, and encouraged him to enjoy the food.

Most of his talks with his tributes ended on that note. Eat and be merry, for tomorrow you die. (The second part going unsaid, obviously. Unless his tribute was really pissing him off.)

Gwen Cooper, Ianto found himself hesitating over. On the other side of the door, he could hear whimpers and sniffles. The showing she had put on that day had eaten all her bravery. Well, Ianto thought, it is time she found some more.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, entering without invitation, and waiting politely in the entrance.

“Gwen Cooper,” he began, ever the gentleman, “I am Ianto Jones,” he said pointlessly. “I will be your mentor.”

The lump on the bed continued to sniffle, but it emerged from the duvet.

Gwen Cooper was a pretty girl. A touch awkward, all legs and arms and elbows. Her doe eyes were rimmed red, her skin puffy and hair a mess. Her green dress was charming, if shiny and grey with age, but everything suggested a young beauty in the making, if only she could live to see that day.

Ianto opened his mouth, about to spill his usual platitudes, when something made him take pause. For all that she quivered before him now, he could not forget the tilt of her chin as she came storming forward, shaking off the hands of those who loved her best.

He perched on the end of the bed, watching her curiously.

“Who was that girl to you?” he asked softly. “A relation?”

Gwen shook her head. “Just a girl I sometimes take care of,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes with her sheets.

“I see,” Ianto said with a nod. He paused, pondering his words. For all the she quivered before him, wiping her nose on her satin duvet, Ianto decided that a brave girl like her deserved better than half truths and empty reassurances. “Tell me, do you think you can kill? Take the life of an innocent, someone just as scared and alone as yourself?”

Gwen’s head jerked up, as though slapped. “I….I...?”

“You did something very high and noble when you volunteered for Emma,” Ianto said calmly. “But there is no room for such things in the Games. In the Games, you had better become an animal.”

A line creased between Gwen’s eyebrow. “An animal?” she repeated.

Ianto’s blue eyes bored into her, willing her to understand his words. To embrace them. “A creature of instinct, with the will to live embedded into every cell of your body. With no room to think of good or bad or right and wrong. Every choice, every act, has to take you one step closer to your next meal, your next hunt, your next kill. Nothing matters, nothing, but staying alive.” He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look him in the eye. “Is this something you think you can become.”

“I don’t even like gutting the fish,” Gwen admitted ruefully. “I don’t think...I can’t..”

“Even if it means getting home?” Ianto asked curtly. “Even if it means you can walk through your back door and into your mum and dad’s arms, even if it means seeing your friends again and kissing that boy at the reaping. Even if it means getting to live every day in their company for years, instead of dying far from home, scared and in pain as millions cheer? Even then, do you think you couldn’t kill?”

Gwen gathered her knees to her chest and tucked in her chin. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

It was better than a 'No'.

Ianto stood up. “You had better decide quickly,” he said sternly. “Tidy up. Dinner is in ten minutes. I expect you to be there, we have work to do.”

#Torchwood #Gwen Cooper #Ianto Jones #Jack Harkness

[reverse-the-jellybaby]

thoughts on combat and captain Jack Harkness

- for both of them: GAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY! SO SO SO SO GAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

combat:

(unfortunately I have to talk about Noel Clarke as a writer in a positive way bc he wrote a great episode…as much as he’s a piece of garbage. I can only offer my apologies)

- he really said Torchwood but also make it Fight Club huh?

- he also said make Owen the biggest cunt he’s been all season and I admire that. Because it kick starts his wonderful character development.

- I also admire him for writing Gwen’s cheating confession with a dash of Retcon involved. Like, damn. Way to show Gwen just cannot face the consequences of her own guilt, huh? But that’s the kind of character stuff that I LOVE in Torchwood. Really deplorable shit. Characters making the worst decisions possible that you can scream about and analyse. Gwen often gets treated with kid gloves but this episode really went in on her worst qualities.

- ooofffff the energy in the room after Owen and Gwen end the affair and return to the hub pissed at each other. The angry glares. The snark. Oh lord. And then it’s still lowkey reeeeeeally awkward when we get to Captain Jack Harkness but they’re trying to be cool and professional now.

- as much as I don’t support Noel based on recent events, he wrote a bloody great episode. He took Owen and Gwen in particular down as dark as they could go, a feat I can only hope to achieve in my fanfics.

- the crazy frog ringtone absolutely took me out

- forgot that Gwen didn’t actually know that Owen had fallen for Diane but plays it off like she does when Tosh mentions it. Speaks volumes about how badly damaged that relationship had become by that point, and I’ll definitely have to work that into my series somehow.

- I made a seperate post about this but why would the show continue to push Jack and Gwen when Jack and TOSH is RIGHT THERE. There’s a moment in combat when Jack holds tosh close while hiding from the villains and I felt more chemistry in that tiny moment than in all of the Gwen/Jack scenes iM SORRY I JUST DONT GET IT.

- speaks volumes about Gwen’s professionalism that despite how angry she is with him, she still runs right into the cage to help save his life.

- as much as I hate to say it…this may be one of my favourite episodes. Siiiiiggghhhh.

Captain Jack Harkness

- SAME DEAL IN THIS EPISODE. So much Jack/tosh material here! And YET.

- the Owen and Ianto moments in this episode were just 🤌🤌🤌🤌 incredible. Top tier. Vitriolic work buddies, then the arguing. So spicy.

- remembered that in End of Days, Owen looks shocked when he sees Jack and Ianto holding each other and now that I remembered him mocking Ianto about the relationship being in his “sad wet dreams” I’m thinking either he boils it down to just sex or he thinks Ianto’s just lying. So when he sees them in End of Days and he reacts in the way he does he’s like oh…I guess it was more than that.

- something this show does so well is male intimacy, showing men at their most vulnerable in so many ways. We see it here with both Captain Jack’s. So much emotion in their final kiss before Jack and tosh return to the present. So much unsaid, so much that doesn’t need to be said.

- Captain Jack’s theme was just fucking beautiful and I got a little choked up because I’d forgotten how gorgeous it is. The score for this show is just 👌👌

#torchwood #dw rambles #but they're actually for torchwood #combat #captain jack harkness

[agent-jones]

Why Gwen Hate Is Rooted In Misogyny And How The Premise Of Torchwood Is Often Ignored In Order To Hate On Her

Hello, hi. Jacklynn here again to talk your head off about something I feel is important to address when it comes to Torchwood and its fandom. Now, you’ve seen me post my defence of her and her actions [ not condoning, always remember this ] but, this is more on why the hate she receives is absolutely rooted in misogyny whether you want to believe it is or not, especially when talking about the portrayal and reception of women over the years in media [ and, frankly, in society ] as well as the fact that Torchwood’s very premise explains why Gwen should not be so vitriolically hated by the fans.

First, let’s talk about one reason she’s hated: her personality. Oh. This one is just blatant. I’ve seen her called both boring AND bitchy. The first one is obvious to address and that’s the bitchy one. Women who are seen as strong and independent are often labelled as bitchy, while men who act in the same manner are respected and good leaders. This is just simply based on the patriarchy we live in, a woman must be docile and and quiet and if she’s stands for something she believes in, suddenly she’s considered loud and angry and a bitch. How many times have we heard those words thrown at feminists for standing up for women? And boring? If a woman isn’t shown to be fun all the time and up for anything [ see the movie Yes, Man and Zooey’s character ] she’s considered boring. This isn’t just Gwen, this has always been the world women are forced to live in: either you’re a slut or you’re a prude, you’re a bitch or you’re just boring. Comments like that about Gwen’s personality are just downright rooted in the everyday sexism women face in society.

Second, the double standard within the Torchwood fandom when it comes to Gwen’s affair. Cheating on Rhys is the number one reason I always see for Gwen hate. And you know what? It’s absolutely valid to criticise her on how she treated Rhys. It was selfish and she made bad decisions. But, you know what’s never addressed? The fact that Owen knew exactly what he was doing when he was tempting Gwen away from Rhys, purposefully trying to get her to cheat on him. He was very open about the fact that he “tortures people in happy relationships” because he wants to. But, he’s given a free pass for his actions. Why? Had the roles been reversed and Owen’s character was a woman, and Gwen’s a man, Owen’s character would have been considered a ‘homewrecking slut’ who didn’t care about the fact that the man she went after was in a relationship and would have been labelled as such and would have been crucified by the fandom as Gwen was for cheating.

Why? Why is Owen excused for his actions? He was far from innocent. Yes, it is ultimately Gwen’s relationahip, but it takes two to tango. Owen should be disliked just as much for purposefully intending to cause harm to Rhys and not caring for a single moment about the consequences of his actions.

Jack is also given a free pass when it comes to the Gwack stuff. I never understood why people claim that Gwen ‘threw herself at Jack’ when almost every scene which implied Gwack, Jack is the one making moves. He’s the one who does the sexy gun lesson, he’s the one who corners her in the cells and does version two of ‘I came back for you,’ he’s the one sending longing glances at her as she’s kissing Rhys. And yes, these things are returned. But, once again Jack is given a free pass when he knows Gwen is in a relationship and yet does not have the decency to honour that either.

So are we seeing the pattern when it comes to the biggest reason Gwen is hated? The men are given free passes and loved while the woman is given all the blame. Each one made their choices and none of them were good. So why does the fandom only punish the woman?

Also, I would like to quickly address that she also gets hate for ‘getting in the way of Jack and Ianto’ which A. Is absolutely untrue, she never once tries to get Jack to choose her over Ianto, never acts like it’s a competition, is never once anything but sweet to Ianto. She is supportive of them and is never canonically attempting to get between them. B. Is pretty damn close to fetishism and blaming women for ‘getting in the way of your m/m ship’ needs to be re-examined.

Now, as I mentioned above, the premise of the show is often ignored in order to hate on Gwen. RTD has stated that Torchwood is about flawed and real human beings trying to save the world. They are not outright heroes, and they never claim to be. They are doing their best but they are all still human.

Human beings make mistakes. Human beings have emotional reactions that are irrational. Human beings do bad things for selfish reasons. Human beings can be inherently good people who made bad decisions and they can also be inherently bad people who do good things some times. Human beings are flawed and that’s the point of the show.

Gwen was not written to be the antithesis to this. She was written as an outsider coming into this new world and quickly learning how it changes you and affects you and can even bring our your more human traits. She was simply brought in to bring a new perspective for the team, not because she’s better than them.

But, so often this premise of real human beings trying to save the world and do what they can is ignored in order to hate Gwen. She’s just as flawed as everyone else, she’s not more flawed or any worse than anyone else on the team. But, their flaws are either ignored or brushed off in order to love them.

Ianto is the fandom golden child. I get it. I adore him with my whole heart. But, he manipulated everyone on the team, emotionally manipulated Jack, used the team in order to do what he had to to save Lisa. He got innocent people killed. He’s been shown to resort to killing when it felt needed. He has a dark side and he is not without his own flaws. He betrayed Jack twice and then went behind his back again in Adrift. He is not perfect. He is good, but he is human and makes mistakes.

Owen is a self-proclaimed twat who spends the entirety of series one purposefully trying to get Gwen to cheat on her boyfriend, being an absolute dick to Tosh. Not to mention he full on date r**** two people in the first episode. He also betrays Jack and nearly ends the world trying to do what he thought was right. Owen makes mistakes. He does really fucked up shit, but that’s what Torchwood is isn’t it? He’s fucked up but he does what he can to save the world. We love him for his growth and don’t let his mistakes make him hated by the fandom.

Tosh isn’t perfect either. She invaded her teammates’ inner most private thoughts and brought an alien into Torchwood. Yes, she was manipulated into it, but she listened in on Gwen and Owen because she was jealous. Jealousy and pettiness are very much shown within Tosh’s character. From the comments she makes to Gwen about getting her feet under the table, to invading their privacy to her tension about Martha. Tosh made mistakes and she has some not very nice qualities to her personality. But, we love her because she’s Torchwood and she’s good and we can forgive her mistakes because she’s human.

Jack lived a conman’s life. He’s resorted to killing before asking questions, he’s physically tortured peopl. Jack refused to let his team know a single thing about him and kept them in the dark when the truth could have helped everyone. He abandoned them and for a long time was only using Torchwood as a way to wait for the Doctor to come back and he would leave. He makes decisions that other people wouldn’t, he tells Gwen to keep a hold of her life with Rhys but would have been the first in line to sleep with her had she asked him to. But, we love Jack because he is Jack Harkness and he cares and he does so much to save the world and takes so much weight on his shoulders. He is a flawed human being doing what he can to do good and we forgive him because we know he’s trying.

The other team members get the forgiveness of the premise of the show, and yet Gwen doesn’t. Why? She’s just as much part of the team and while she was written to be the protagonist and main character, the premise of the show still extends to her. So, why is she hated for falling under that same flawed human being saving the world umbrella that the rest of the team is protected by?

Anyway, I’m sure there’s more I could say on the matter. But, honestly what this boils down to is that I understand the other characters deserved more storylines and air time, what they gave Gwen wasn’t used well because the writers didn’t treat her well either.

But the constant need to tear Gwen down in order to love the other characters is absolutely unnecessary.

#Gwen Cooper #Torchwood #ianto jones #jack harkness #owen harper #toshiko sato #; I haven’t much left to say in the tags but there’s that

[dinodina]

23. The many uses of pockets for Jack?

From this prompt list - 23: the many uses of pockets

Also here on ao3 as a more complete fic!

There’s a sandwich in his pocket.

Ianto, Jack thinks with a smile—then frowns. Other pocket. There.

He takes out his wallet and opens it at the same time as he swings open the warehouse door.

The psychic paper gleams in the light from the open windows, and Jack imagines it glinting off his teeth as he flashes a million-dollar smile. “Health inspector!”

The blowfish in front of him falters.

Then grins.

Then charges.

Jack drops his wallet and whips out his gun—there was a time when he practiced the motion in the mirror, but now it’s as smooth as butter. The blowfish turns, but Gwen is at the other door and Ianto is at yet another, and there was a time when three agents for a single blowfish was too many, but they’re bored and paranoid in equal measure, and when someone called the crisis in, they all jumped at the chance.

Jack signals to Gwen and she moves closer. The blowfish lowers its head in defeat and holds out its arms for handcuffs.

Jack nods approvingly at it. Bored or not, they’re trying to keep their adrenaline addiction in check, and a shootout is not what they need.

He grabs the alien’s shoulder and nudges it out of the warehouse. “Come on.”

Gwen and Ianto follow, talking and watching his back at the same time, a well-oiled machine, still smooth and steady when Gwen’s phone rings and Ianto takes over most of the backup.

“It’s Tish,” she says when Jack finishes securing the blowfish into the boot, and Jack has to fling his mind back to his academy days when he memorized alien species and the common ways of dealing with them.

“Slime that burns whatever it touches,” Gwen relays, and her eyes are wide when Jack looks back at her.

He runs around to the front door and gets into the driver’s seat, fishing the keys out of his pocket on the way and turning the SUV on before Gwen and Ianto close their own doors. Slime that burns what it touches: he’s familiar, and Tish and Lois can handle themselves, but it’s time to go back to the Hub anyway.

He yells the solution at Gwen and zips away.

#torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #gwen cooper #my writing #I hope you like it!!

[violetmessages]

gwen and ianto for 31!! <333

Thank you Dina!!!! I hope u enjoy this <3333

read here on ao3

Ianto watched as Gwen looked down at her computer, distractedly chewing on her pen. Her eyes darted from side to side as she studied the contents of the file she was working on furiously. She looked close to falling asleep, but she kept on, something that was an admirable feat, considering she hadn’t slept in close to two days.

Neither had he, other than the ten minute nap he took when he fell asleep next to the coffee maker. The sad part was, he hadn’t even been surprised (or ungrateful). He reckoned that the ten minutes had given him enough to go on for a little longer than if he hadn’t taken it.

Glancing down at the data table in front of him, he watched as the numbers blurred, dancing across the page as if they were doing an elegant waltz. The nines cuddled up to the sixes, the fourteens and the sevens looked perfectly happy together, and the fives, fifteens, and ones all swung together, jigging as he had once done as a child, hand in hand, around in circles. The music that had started when they began dancing blared, the drums roared and the violins sang as if it was their last night to sing. It was so beautiful that Ianto’s eyes began to water and-

“-Ianto, Ianto wake up darling,” said Gwen, shaking his shoulder.

He jerked his head up and saw that, rather than dancing, he had inputted a long string of sevens into the data table via his forehead. He blinked sleepily, willing the world to stop being blurry, then erased the erroneous numbers.

“God what time is it?” He asked, rubbing at his poor burning eyes. “I swear it was only two-thirty when I think I must have dozed off.”

“It’s three-ish now,” Gwen responded with a small smile, eyes red with strain. “And I vote that we stop now.”

“We’ve got to finish this by-”

“-You just fell asleep. If I keep going I’m going to fall asleep. There’s no point in continuing now.” she said. “Let’s take Jack’s bed and look at it in the morning with fresh eyes.”

“Jack’s bed?”

“It's the closest,” she said promptly. “And he’s at that UNIT thing so - bed’s empty.”

“He wouldn’t mind even if he was here.” snorted Ianto. “He’d make some stupid joke about a threesome.”

“Two attractive Welsh in my bed? It must be my lucky day!” Gwen mocked Jack, putting on her horrible excuse of an American accent.

Ianto rolled his eyes.

“What a little brat,” she said. “Disrespecting your elders like that Ianto?”

“You’re the worst.” he laughed. “Come on then. Bedtime.”

He turned to tap a couple keys at Tosh’s workstation (it would always be Tosh’s in his eyes, no matter that she was no longer here to use it) and put the hub into partial lockdown, shutting off most of the lights and rerouting the rift alerts to the device in Jack’s little sleeping pit. The two of them made their way into Jack’s office, holding hands like little children. Ianto didn’t dare say anything, but he was relieved to have Gwen’s hand in his, warm and steady and comforting.

Pulling the top off the manhole, they made their way down the ladder, and into the tiny nook. Ianto hated being down in it alone, it felt like being trapped, too much like the chilly basement he’d spent his earliest days in Torchwood Three.

Gwen made a disapproving noise and he realized he’d been staring into nothing. He followed her suit, stripping off his stuffy suit and trousers, until he was standing in almost nothing. He looked at Gwen and snickered.

“Flamingo print underwear?” he laughed, looking down at her.

“Shut up,” she sputtered, shoving him. “Stop staring at my crotch and get in bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” responded Ianto, still laughing. He rolled onto the edge of the tiny cot and made room for Gwen, who snuggled up to him. Not that she had any other choice - the bed was barely big enough for just Jack.

“Can you check if Jack’s left his water bottle down there,” asked Ianto after a moment.

Gwen turned and shifted down. He could hear her rummage for a few seconds, and then she turned back to him.

“Nope,” she said, an apologetic tone in her voice.

“Wonderful.”

“Oh don’t worry,” she said, slightly sarcastically. “Gwen to the rescue.”

“Wait, no, it’s fine-” he tried to protest, but she was gone in an instant, shuttling up the ladder and she disappeared from his view. A few minutes later, she reappeared, climbing down with her big pink water bottle in her hand.

“Here you are,” she said, handing it to him. He raised it to his lips and felt the coolness of the water ease down his throat.

There they laid together, almost naked, and yet the most intimate thing Gwen had done all night was bring him water. It was odd how something so innocuous as that could be so intimate.

“Stop overthinking and go to bed,” came Gwen’s voice from behind him.

“Goodnight, Gwen,” he said, laughing, and smiled as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Goodnight, darling.”

#my fic #gwen cooper #ianto jones #torchwood

[neurodiverse-myfanwy]

ianto and jack and gwen helping each other cope post exit wounds in the ways they all need

Oh I have so many ideas for this I could write a series (/hj) but I hope this suffices!

Coping

a/n: Presenting the third fic for my 25-follower celebration!  Minor content warning for nightmares.  WC: 906

The sound of yelling from upstairs in the Hub startled Ianto.

No.  Not again.  He sprinted up three flights from the archives to the main Hub, taking the steps two at a time, and followed the sound of the shouting without noticing where he was or where it was actually coming from.

It was Gwen’s voice, he processed through the adrenaline that set his heart to racing and his blood to pounding in his ears, and that was worse, because if Gray was somehow awake like Beth had been or if John was back, Jack could deal with them--he shouldn’t have to, but he could, and Ianto hated himself for thinking it--but Gwen was just as mortal as Tosh and Owen, and he couldn’t lose her.

He found himself in the rest and recreation room, where the couch was--where Gwen was asleep on the couch, yelling nonsensically, and Jack was standing over her, pleading with her to just wake up and breathe and calm down.

Ianto paused, breathing slowly and deeply for a moment and trying to focus past Gwen’s outward reaction to her nightmare.  When he was shaking a little less from the adrenaline crash, he came up to the arm of her couch, behind her head, and stroked her hair gently, carding his hand through it near the roots where she could feel it.  It was soft--a little oily, but then none of them had been doing much outside of the Hub since Gray, so if she wasn’t getting a chance to wash her hair as often as she needed Ianto certainly wasn’t going to judge.

Jack gave Ianto a grateful look, but Gwen still slept, still yelled.  She must be exhausted, Ianto thought, and continued his gentle smoothing down of her hair.

Eventually, Gwen began to calm under his ministrations, and Jack folded himself into the narrow space on the couch behind her where he could barely fit to wrap himself around her and hold her close, providing the comfort he could.  Gwen and Jack were both so tactile, and had only become more so after Gray.

Her yelling calmed to murmuring, to snuffling, and to snoring, until she was peacefully asleep again.  Ianto continued to caress the top of her head anyway, because he wasn’t sure how else to help.  He was still shaking a bit, though, and didn’t want to go back down into the archives alone, especially if Gwen was at risk for further nightmares.

Jack’s face was buried in the crook between Gwen’s neck and shoulder, but he looked up at Ianto.  “You two need to go home,” he said, softly, so as not to wake her (though if her shouting and her nightmare hadn’t, she was probably still fast asleep).

“You know we can’t,” Ianto replied, voice just as low.  “There’s too much--”

“I know.  There’s too much to do around here.”  Jack sighed, and Ianto watched the air of it stir some of Gwen’s stray hairs.  “You can’t keep going like this.”

“Neither can you, Jack,” Ianto reminded him.  Just because he couldn’t stay dead didn’t mean he couldn’t die, and he was not about to succumb to sheer exhaustion on Ianto’s watch.  “Have you talked to Martha?”

Jack’s lips pursed.

It was Ianto’s turn to sigh, though he found that despite his mild discontent, talking with Jack was calming.  The trembling in his hands slowed and stalled as they spoke in low tones.

Eventually, Gwen stirred in Jack’s arms, under Ianto’s hand.

“Good morning, Rhys,” she said blearily.

Jack chuckled, and Ianto flushed.

“Actually, you’re still at the Hub,” Jack told her.

Gwen grumbled.  “Of course it’s you.  Bloody Jack Harkness.”

Jack’s chuckles grew into a full belly laugh.  “Now that you’re awake from your nap, I’m afraid I’m sending you home to get some real sleep.  I don’t want you back here for at least twelve hours.”

Gwen’s eyes flew open at that.  “We can’t leave the Rift unattended for that long--” she began.

“I know,” Jack said, and at least his tone was more solemn.  “The Rift isn’t as important as you and Ianto, and you’re working yourselves to exhaustion.”

“Not as important?” Gwen asked, incredulous.  “If the wrong thing, or god forbid, person, comes through the Rift, it could be a matter of life or death for the entire city!”

“I know and I don’t care,” Jack replied, with just the hint of a defensive growl in his tone.  “You and Ianto are more important than the entire city.  Do you understand me?”

Ianto’s brow furrowed when he looked at Jack.  What a difference, what a remarkable change loss could make even in a person who had lived well over two millennia.

“Go home, Gwen Cooper.  Don’t let it drift.”  Jack kissed her on the cheek and urged her to get up.  “You too, Ianto.”

Ianto leveled a look at Jack as Gwen stood, rolled her shoulders a few times, and went to find her coat.

“You’re the only thing I have to let drift,” Ianto said when she was out of earshot.  “If I’m going home, you’re coming with me.”

Jack’s expression softened.  “We really can’t leave the Rift unattended--”

“We get notifications from Tosh’s Rift monitoring program,” Ianto said, and the timing of the wrench in his gut and Jack’s flinch was impeccable and painful.  Oh, how he missed her.  “We won’t be leaving the Rift unattended.  Come home, Jack.  Sleep.”

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