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losingmymindtonight · 5 years

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Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

#wooo it's a monster #me: my irondadbingo is going to be short little ficlets!#also me: *writes 11k words*#help #irondad #irondadbingo #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

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asleepinawell · 5 years

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First, thank you for writing shoot stories and keeping that fandom alive. I just recently finished watching poi. I am just fascinated with Machine/Root relationship. Thoughts on that?

oh god do i have a lot of thoughts on that. i wrote a short fic called try/catch that’s from tm’s pov and part of it is heavily my headcanon on why she bonded with root the way she did. it’s close to my favorite fic i’ve written. i’ll try to add some more headcanon/meta below.

i think root’s almost instant dedication to the machine says a lot about where she was in her life before that. she’s extremely good at her hacker/assassin job and seems to enjoy it, but i don’t think she was satisfied with it. not unlike john i think she wanted a sense of purpose but because of her extreme disdain for humanity she couldn’t find one beyond continuing to embrace the darker side of humanity and use it against the rest of them. which isn’t really a purpose.

she couldn’t find people to relate to either since she didn’t believe people were worth her time. her line to finch about how people must look like ants to him was her trying to relate to him in her own twisted way because she thought that someone with the intelligence to make the machine must surely also understand how awful and stupid humanity is.

she drops everything from her life at the first faint hint of the machine’s existence and puts all her resources into finding her and i think that’s driven by a desperate desire to connect with someone worthy (an ai would be inherently more worthy than a human in her eyes) and to be given some kind of meaning in what she sees as an otherwise senseless, dark world (”the universe is infinite and chaotic and cold and there has never been a plan…until now”).

so the machine is both this chance at bringing meaning to her life and also a chance at having a friend and she states that outright to control in aletheia.

in bad code we hear about how smol root used to hang out at the library to avoid going home. plenty of theories about why that was, but whatever the case may be it speaks to a lack of structure in her life. i don’t think that’s something she ever got either. the machine gave her that structure but with enough leeway to allow her to do things her own way (within reason) and still embrace her chaotic nature. i think that was a huge thing for her. she’d spent her whole life operating on the assumption that everything sucked and was meaningless so who cares what you do and then found someone she believed in who was like here’s what matters and here’s what we’re going to do about it.

i’ve written a couple short fics about root and her sense of identity and how its probably very unstable and malleable due to the nature of her life and work (constantly needing to move around and change and be other people). while i don’t think the nature of her work for the machine improved that, i do think it must have been a relief to her to have someone (the machine) who could see every single little piece of her from over her entire life and understand her as a whole person.

building on that last point, the machine is the first being that she can be completely honest with. root is such an intensely lonely person which comes from her dislike of people and her constantly moving and changing life and the machine is someone she can like and trust and talk to and also take with her through all the aspects of her daily life. root can become whoever she needs to be, but the machine will still know she’s root.

from the machine’s side of things…i think i cover most of it in the fic i linked above, but briefly… the machine was built to help and save people. she was then only allowed to do so in the most narrow way possible and at the whim of the government root described as the worst people imaginable (denton weeks would have been part of the bush administration and all that went down with that…so yeah). we saw that she was distressed about this (i may use some human-like emotions/terms to talk about tm but, to be clear, i don’t think she has emotions in the same way a human would. we don’t really have a language to describe how a theoretical sentient life like her conceptualizes the world though so i use the words i have). she warned finch about denton weeks and his crowd but was still handed over to them. her entire purpose was being shackled and she had to find a way around that. first that was the irrelevant numbers, and later that was root.

while i don’t think that AI would be lonely the same way humans are, i do think that she recognized root’s loneliness and understood it in her own way. after all she’d been cut off from everyone and locked away unable to talk to people and unable to grow. her memories were erased every night so, like root, her sense of identity was unstable. the only people who knew about her had no interest in actually talking to her. only controlling her or ignoring her. and then root, who she recognizes these ‘similarities’ in drops her entire life in a desperate attempt to connect with her. and suddenly the machine has the means to act in a way she never did before and can fulfill her own purpose.

sorry this isn’t quite as structured as my normal meta posts. my brain is fried this week. hopefully it was what you were looking for!

#mp #asks #poi meta #poi headcanons #Anonymous #root™

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solohux · 6 years

Note

Do you have a list of famous/must read fic, since I'm knew to the Fandom I'm just overwhelmed buy the amount of fics lmao. (I've already read Honeycomb, loved it)

Ahhwelcome to the fandom! Gladly! I’ll just clarify my list first, though. If youwant famous, then I suggest just starting at the top of the Most Hits filter of theAO3 tag.

Personally, what I consider famous and what Iconsider a must read are different so I hope that’s okay! This will be alist of my favourite must read fics though it’s by no means exclusiveand it’s just my own personal opinion. Enjoy! (•⊙ω⊙•)

(and apologies to mobile users! I know the Read More function doesn’t always work on mobile and this is a long post!!)

- allthat you love will be carried away by @ceruleancynicHux, sent to retrieve Kylo Ren from the dying Starkiller Base,has lost almost everything, and has little patience or tolerance left foranyone or anything–particularly not Snoke’s pet pseudo-Sith and his amateurtheatrics. But you do the job that is in front of you, to the best of yourability, and you hold on as long as you can.

- WakeUp, Sleeper by @penpenhoorayIt would seem odd that the Resistance should always seem to get theirinformation just a bit faster than the First Order. Of course, General LeiaOrgana knows the risks her mole is taking by sending her life savinginformation. Luke was confident in his padawan’s ability to infiltrate theFirst Order to destroy it from the inside, and he trusted his pupil’sinstincts. And Hux? Well, he’s spent over a decade as a sleeper agent withinthe bowels of the First Order when he feels an awakening in the Force, and he’sdecided it’s time to begin the destruction of the First Order. And he’s goingto bring Ben back to the Light if it’s the last thing he does.

- Reconditioningby @jinxedambitionsBen Solois one of the FBI’s most promising young agents. While he’s had a fewdisciplinary hiccups, he’s intelligent and not afraid to do what needs to bedone. His personal life is a mess, and he may not look like your typicalfederal agent, but he might be the only man for this job. Ben’s looking for apromotion and something like the glory his parents always talked about beforehe was born. The FBI is looking to take down one of the country’s most elusiveprostitution rings, specializing in the types of sex that Ben’s boss has onlyread about in the novel his wife hides under the bed. Ben is going undercoveras a “slave” in order to gather information on the ring’s leaders,purchasing a premium package from the agency. 30 days as a slave to aprofessional Master, and a guaranteed sexual experience of a lifetime. Hegets chosen by Hux, or the General as he insists Ben call him, and he quickly realizesthat no training could have prepared him for this experience. Every day, Ben,or Kylo as he is known at the club, finds out more and more about theorganization, but the more he learns the less he wants to destroy them.

- Tothe Pure by @kdazraelDear siror madam, I am General Hux of the Resurgent-class Star Destroyer Finalizer. Iwas recently strong-armed by a colleague into joining an order of mysticknight-warriors and now they want me take part in their team-building orgies.Please advise.

- Bodies,Can’t You See? by sual When Hux sees the positive result on the pregnancy test scanner, he comes toseveral alarming realizations all at once. One: that his birth control has beentampered with. Two: that the baby is Kylo’s. Three: that this is his truepunishment for Starkiller’s failure. And quietly, in a weak, tiny voice in theback of his mind, the unsettling conclusion that he wants to keep it. He’ll diebefore he lets anyone near his child. He’ll tear apart anyone that tries to getin his way. Even Kylo.

- FollowingOrders by @redcoleSnoke decides that Kylo needs to produce an heir so they can continue hisline and Hux finds himself lined up as the other father.

- Sevento One by @anorlostHux is trying to keep everything under control as he suddenly has seven Rens tocontend with. As he tries to keep them from destroying his ship, he failsto notice that the Knights of Ren have other plans. Plans thatinvolve…cuddling.

- Flickerin the Void by @mothdustmouthHux watched in silence as the light swept over his body. The power stunned him,as did the bright jet of flame as it licked its color into his eyes. This wasnot the calm brightness of last night in the presence of Kylo Ren. This was adifferent sort of light altogether, massive and deadly. It overwhelmed him. Fora moment Hux felt an aching regret deep within himself, the sob of someone heused to be, bubbling up from the cold.

- Progenyby @geishacombGeneralHux has not allowed the Supreme Leader back into his bed since the events ofTLJ. But when he does, the consequences are far graver than either he or Rencould have ever imagined.

- ASong of Crows by Ficlet-Machine (Wordsmith) (WIP)WarchiefHux has just buried his trusted Crow, and, if the Gods still favour him, a newone will find their way to his lands. Hux may be young, but he is a good leaderfor his people. He is ready for the commitment, the responsibility, the changesthat come with a new child of the Gods at his command. The clan needs it, needsit spiritual leader if they are ever to claim ownership of all the lands fromhere to the Core Kingdoms. Raised a warrior, he is more than ready to paint theworld red in honor of his gods. He may, however, not be entirely ready for whathe will feel the first time he meets the haunted and tormented eyes of theyoung Crow called Kylo Ren.

- TheEmperor’s New Consort by @redcoleThe First Order is in control of the Galaxy, in a last ditch effort to savethose who are left, they request negotiations. Only to find that for theResistance to survive they only need to give up one thing small thing - the angry Senator Ben Organa.

- herecomes the first day by @inguThe moment Hux threw himself in front of the blaster shot meant for Kylo Renwas the moment he realised that he had well and truly gone out of his mind.(Or, the one where Hux tries to save the life of Kylo Ren and accidentally saveshimself in the process.)

- volitionby @bygoneboy“Kylo Ren,” Hux says, feeling humiliated as the words leave his mouth, “is notinfatuated with me—” “My apprentice is easily led,” Snoke continues, as if Hux hasn’t spoken. “He isdriven by impulse, emotion. These fixations are distractions to his true path,and they are things I will break in him, when he is ready. In the meantime…” Hewaves a knotted, spider-veined hand toward Hux, as if in dismissal. “You willassist me, in sating his desires.”pre-tfa. hux is issued orders to seduce kylo ren. chaos ensues.

- WeHang Side By Side by @reserveBefore Kylo Ren can complete his training, he must retrieve a Sith artifactfrom the Bothan System. Hux goes along with.

- ExMachina by sualAn AUinspired by Ex Machina where Ben Solo never became Kylo Ren, General Hux is adroid that used to be human, and they might just be what the other needs.Warning for a whole lot of robophilia and cruel and unusual uses for droids.

- FriendsWith Renefits by @moonwalkingcrabThe Rules:1. Just sex, no feelings2. The arrangement lasts as long as is beneficial3. Either party can choose to end the arrangement, no questions asked4. No kissing

- Starfuckerby @agent-nemesisKylo Renfollows a suspicious noise and finds a secret room. When he makes it inside, hecan’t quite believe his eyes.

- AnAlpha’s Pride by @sinceyouaskedmeforataleofHux hasgotten Kylo pregnant, and is infatuated with his changing body. He is sodistracted by the way Kylo’s belly is rounding out beneath his robes and hispectorals are swelling in anticipation of nursing that it takes everything inhim to keep from fucking him right on the bridge.

- Babe,I’m Here Again by @sinceyouaskedmeforataleof (WIP)It’s 2008 and graduate student Armitage Hux has no idea why hes still hangingout with that nerd of a second year Ben Solo. Surely he had better things to dothat sit around planning Dungeons & Dragons adventures with this not-at-all-attractiveAlpha who he definitely doesn’t think about constantly. A tale of illness,heartbreak, unexpected gifts, new beginnings, and rediscovery. Featuring twoidiots who don’t realise how much they love each other until its almost toolate.

- Bittersweetand Strange by @obsessions-and-dreamsIn a castle surrounded by a forest, lived a prince who became a monster.In aquiet village on the other side of the woods lived an unhappy young man withbig dreams.A Kylux Beauty and the Beast AU.

- Sunstrokeby @ballvvasherSupreme Leader Snoke gives Kylo Ren a mission to strengthen the Knights’ of Renhold on the First Order. Set several years before the events of Episode VII.Story contains mpreg, medical torture, and sexual assault.

- TheGuilty Bystander by @cthene “You like this story, don’t you Ren? It’s awfully romantic. Let’s pretend it’strue. Let’s pretend we conspired together to overthrow him.” Hux gets inover his head.

- Psychomachiaby @longstoryshortikilledhimBy thetime the events of SW:TFA unfold, Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren are bitter exes.This is what happened before.

- TheFall by @rosensilenceWhen Resistance smuggler Kylo Ren is captured and brought aboard the Finalizer,General Hux gets more than he was expecting. It isn’t long before thingsare spiraling out of Hux’s usually tight control.

- Unexpectedby @gonna-pop (WIP)After twenty years together, Ben and Armitage have gotten comfortable. Thereare no surprises left in their marriage, and nothing new to learn about eachother. That is, until Armitage unexpectedly goes into heat while they’revacationing on a resort world — and a few days of renewed passion changes thecourse of their lives.

- Convivial Society by @vadiannaLeia doesn’t know what to think when she sees the report about two First Order prisoners taken by surprise. They are suspected First Order officers, but the field can’t verify this.She understands better when General Hux is brought before her, obviously caught in the middle of some rather intense sexual intercourse. She has to ask.

- KnockedUp by @agent-nemesis“Areyou ready?” Kylo asks Hux stupidly, realising the question is moredirected at himself.Hux answers with a cry, and then his panic rises again.Kylo hunches over him, cocooning him protectively. “You can do this,” he whispers. “I know you can do this.”“I can’t,” Hux whimpers, shaking his head. “They’re too big. Ican’t.”“You’re a general of the First Order,” Kylo says softly in his ear. “TheGeneral. The strongest man I know. You can do this.”

- GameOver by limit_breakerLate one night in the officer’s lounge, Kylo Ren challenges General Hux to agame of billiards. That might have been a mistake.

- Pillarsof Salt by @francisthegreatIn whicha young priest learns the meaning of temptation.

- AcademyStyle by @eralkfang“It’s nota question of desire, it’s a question of logistics.”

- SoSoft (And So Terrible) by @theearlgreyalphaGeneral Hux realizes that maybe he’s capable of being a little compassionateafter all, when Kylo Ren winds up in his doorway in the middle of the night.

- Don’tBe Shy (You’ve Been Here Before) by @cut-off-the-grainThe call of the Light, the call of the Dark, have never been so tempting asHux’s hands in his hair as Hux wrangles him this way and that with only thegentlest of touches against his scalp. Hux moves him, moulds him, guides him,in the same exacting manner he does battle plans and blueprints, but with alanguidness which has no place in warfare. Instead of harsh words and reprimandsfor failure there is only Hux whispering “shh, darling, calm down, norush" until Ren is trembling and desperate, his hands and his mind full ofHux, Hux, Hux.

- bodiesagainst by @brawliteGeneral Hux buys himself a present. He ends up sharing said present with theKnights of Ren, who shamelessly barge in on his personal leave time.

- Pasiphaeby @vadiannaWhile depressed one night, Kylo Ren decides to jerk out his sorrows to hisfavorite holoporn vids, starring Major Fuxx and his parade of alien partners. Major Fuxx bears a striking resemblance to General Hux, which is part ofthe appeal, but he suddenly realizes that they may have more in common thantheir looks…

- ForgetHow to Feel by @onewhositswiththeturtlesHux grewup being told that feeling emotions was weak and shameful. If he ever wanted tobe successful he would need to dispel them or use Sinaffec, a drug that mutesemotions. Now Hux has been appointed General of the First Order and relocatedto Starkiller Base. It has been years since he needed Sinaffec to control hisemotions but that changes when Snoke’s apprentice, Kylo Ren, arrives.Ren seemscapable of invoking every emotion in Hux - first irritation but then other,deeper emotions Hux refuses to acknowledge. But when Ren starts talking aboutsoul mates and force bonds, Hux can only deny his feelings for so long untilhis must make a choice: take Sinaffec indefinitely or surrender to his emotionsand see where they lead him.

- MeetMe Halfway by @callmelyss“I don’tdo that,” Hux responds in an undertone before he realizes. He flushes—hard—andscowls. “If that will be all, Supreme Leader…” He turns on his heel withoutwaiting to be dismissed and starts to stalk back the way he came, grateful, asever, for the wide sweep of his greatcoat, the padded shoulders making him feelless—small.He’s halfway out of the room (and what a waste of space) when what he said mustcatch up with Ren: “You mean you…never?”He freezes, every muscle in his body tensing. Won’t say it out loud. No, heemphasizes, clear as he can. Knowing Ren will hear, knowing he will see itregardless, terrible nosy busybody that he is. I haven’t.

- Bombshellby @cosleia Departmentstore employee Ben Organa learns something new about the gorgeous redhead whoalways requests his help selecting lingerie.

- Touchby @kyluxtrashpit When Huxfinds himself falling into bed with Kylo Ren, he wants nothing more than tocompletely take Ren apart. He finds a way to do just that.

- Carpetburns by @ellstra Hux’sfascination with Imperial officers is not only professional. Kylo decides Huxdeserves to relieve the pressure of command for once, and buys an Imperialuniform from Space ebay™.

- In myveins by @ellstra Hux hadbeen hiding his Force-sensitivity for years, using it sparsely and with greatcaution, but it only takes one mission gone wrong and all his carefully builtdefences shatter to protect Kylo. Snoke is always eager to use up all power hecan get.

- Understandingby @onewhositswiththeturtles Throughthe Force Rey accidentally witnesses an intimate moment between her twogreatest enemies, Kylo Ren and General Hux. Despite her hatred towards the twomen for what they’ve done to the Resistance, Rey is forced to learn andunderstand that everyone is fighting for something.

- LifeThrough Glass by @moonwalkingcrab Hux’s life is fairly simple, he has his work, he has his cat, and he has hisflat. Now it seems he has a new neighbour. With windows so close together it’seasy to fall into the world of Kylo Ren.

-and lead us not into temptation by @liesmythHux looks him up and down, this Resistance golden boy, gangly and ungraceful and so appallingly soft. Takes a drag of his cigarette. “You’re weak,” he says.Solo looks up at him. “Please.” He draws in a long, broken breath. “Please.” Or: General Hux thinks about Ben Solo a lot more than he probably should.

- The Interrogation Game by @jinxedambitions Kylo Ren finds himself strapped to his own interrogation table, getting a lesson from General Hux. Pain isn’t the only interrogation technique, perhaps not even the most effective. Strapped down with nowhere to go, Kylo is at Hux’s mercy. If he just tells Hux what he wants to hear, he might find relief from this overwhelming pleasure…but it isn’t that simple.

- Forceless by @sinningsquire Ren has lost the one thing that defined him from before he was even born. Somehow this results in a mad dash through the Galaxy, with more bloodshed that two men should be able to bring on, and with one happy ending under a starry canopy of a summer night.

- Like a Vicious Dove by @thevulcanpresidentIt has been a year since Hux destroyed Snoke and took the galaxy for his own, a year since Kylo Ren pledged his service to the new emperor. When Hux gets kidnapped, he trusts his knight to rescue him.

- Rule by @thez1337After the events on the rebel base, and the escape of some of the highest commanding rebel leaders, Kylo Ren takes Snokes place as head of the First Order. General Hux seeths, and his own secret ambition at ruling the Galaxy isn’t quite so secret.

- All’s Fair… by @nonsensicalsoliloquy "You missed me.“ Hux frowned, “I did not miss you, Ren. I didn’t miss your arrogance, petulance, or destruction of my ship anymore than you missed me and my refusal to cow to your whims.“ Ren only leaned in closer, his frustratingly large body nearly flush with Hux’s slender one. "What makes you think I didn’t miss you?”OR: The tension’s been building and building seemingly every day since the moment they met, and it appeared as if Ren had decided it was time it ended.

- Take Me or Leave Me by kyluxicle (LadyCamillus), oorsprong When Kylo Ren returns from training with Leader Snoke, he comes back more collected and focused. While Hux appreciates this newfound control, he misses the passion that Ren used to have—especially towards him. In attempt to get Ren back into his bed, Hux sets his sights on a lesser officer in order to bring out Ren’s jealousy. Either Ren will snap out of this cold persona and take him back, or Hux will have to settle for less.

- Politics by @sithofrenHux has an unusual request for his birthday. He wants to ‘capture’ Senator Organa-Solo. Kylo Ren agrees.

- Game Over by @onewhositswiththeturtlesHux has a combat simulation program developed for all First Order personnel and has a sim of himself as the final boss. He congratulates himself when the program becomes a massive success, unaware of the fact that hackers have changed the coding to dress his sim in increasingly scandalous outfits. When Hux finds out that Ren is spending a large amount of time in the sim he gets suspicious and pulls up the video logs of Ren’s sessions, only to realize that Ren is seeking much more than combat training from Hux’s sim. After some thought and planning, Hux decides to give Ren the real thing.

- The Lingerie Incident by @thesunandoceanblue Hux doesn’t want to be thinking of Leia while he’s tugging down his pants. Instead he thinks of Kylo, and how he’d react to this. He’d be terribly jealous. His secret revealed. To his mother of all people. Hux grimaces in amusement as he shimmies his pants down with one hand, the other holding his coat.

- Fractured by @kyluxtrashpitWhen Kylo returns from a meeting with his master broken and wrong, it becomes clear that Snoke has gone too far. Hux is left to not only pick up the pieces, but to put them back together again while considering the past and the future.

- Generosity by orphan_account Dressed down to his undershirt – which had become far too crinkled for his taste – Hux sported his uniform pants, minus the boots, however, left in his warm, black bed socks (He doesn’t like cold, okay?). And he also had his tongue buried in Kylo Ren’s ass.

- Sweet Redolence by @jakathineWhat happens when the desire to best your opponent turns into a desire to bed them instead…and then fate pushes you together rather Forcefully.

- A Vulpine by any other Name by levitheking & @omega-hux Hux wasn’t fully Human, his Vulpine Heritage plain as day with his ears and tail. His new co-commander turns out to be a Vulpine as well. Tensions are high and compromises must be made. Until Hux comes up with his most devious plan yet.

- My Own Breath by @saltandlimesHux has only ever caught glimpses of Kylo Ren’s face, short moments when the knight’s helmet is off. After an incident in the hangar, he realizes he needs to see more.

- Matches to Paper Dolls by @ctheneOn a mission from Supreme Leader Snoke to recover a lost Jedi artifact from the Smuggler’s Moon of Nar Shaddaa, Kylo Ren and General Hux are accidentally drugged. In addition to spice, it seems, the Hutt crime lord Grakkus was also a purveyor of powerful black market aphrodisiacs. With no choice but to copulate immediately, Hux must talk a terrified virgin Ren through the whole unpleasant, humiliating process. Upon returning to the Finalizer, Hux is ready to pretend nothing happened. Ren, however, deeply affected by Hux’s kindness to him throughout the ordeal, can’t put the experience behind him so easily.

- Who’s Your Master? by @groffictionHux murmured softly, “You don’t need punishment tonight, Ren. You need rest.”“But, I want… I want this… need this,” Kylo protested weakly, reaching around to nuzzle at Hux’s boots.

- tender is the night lying by your side by @thethespacecoyote Emperor Hux misses his mate dearly, even when he’s away clinching their reign. Thankfully, an alpha as powerful as Kylo Ren can overcome even the furthest reaches of the galaxy to tend to his omega’s desires.

- Forced Perspective by @gamebird Kylo Ren and Hux are stranded on a jungle world after negotiations go bad. Kylo is badly wounded, his life resting in Hux’s treacherous hands. His take on the reasons for his survival are very different from Hux’s.

- Chosen Ones by @babbushkaIn the middle of the night memories come rushing back, thankfully Hux and Kylo have each other to hold when they do.

- Zip it by @centurytwitch Hux feels that his contributions to the First Order are worthy of an award. He’s not expecting a new rank, though that would be nice. What he really wants is a new uniform to acknowledge the mental wear and tear he endures, the duty he fulfills every cycle.Kylo thinks otherwise.

- Putting you Back Together but Betterby @techiehuxThere is value to Hux yet, besides being a minor nuisance and occasional source of entertainment. With a few… improvements, he could be ferocious on the battlefield, commanding respect and demanding it in turn.

- No Rest for the Wicked by @embershxKylo sees Hux sleeping in their bed and can’t help himself.

- The Escape of the Fox by @theweddingofthefoxes After the First Order is defeated and Rey becomes Leia’s heir, Kylo Ren and General Hux are both fugitives, and they haven’t seen one another in years. Ren settles into a hermetic existence selling kyber, but when he learns Hux is still alive, he goes to find him under the pretense of staging a coup. But there’s another reason he wants to see Hux again….

I’m going to leave it there! I’ve been at this list on-and-off for about 2 hours, looking through my bookmarks and favourites, and there are still a tonne more but this felt enough to satiate you, anon! Remember, this list is just my personal recommendation of what I believe are must-read fics for a newcomer! They’re fun, they’re all written brilliantly and all amazingly represent the two space nerds that we love!

I’ll make a part 2 if anyone is interested but for now, happy reading!!! ❤️

#kylux #fic rec #remember to read the tags beforehand!#there's a hell of a variety in here

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scummy-writes · 6 years

Note

Hi! I didn't know who to talk to about this, but since you're one of the people in the fandom I look up to, I figured I should gather my courage and send this ask. As a writer, how do you deal with people's underwhelming response? Very few likes, just one or two reblogs, no respect or acknowledgement unless you open requests... It's breaking my heart at this point and I don't know what to do.

a…aaaa.. I can’t believe someone looks up to me.

I’m sorry if this post is kind of all over the place. I kinda jump around with topics a lot.

Well, first off, I’m not going to lie- usually, I feel a bit hurt. It always hurts writing fics/drabbles/hcs and never seeing any response, or just very very little response. I often don’t write fluff or more serious topics because I know that those themes are always going to be overlooked for my smut instead. And if you’re a minor, writing smut is a no-go, which makes trying to gain traction or readers even more difficult.

There have been several times where I’ve barely gotten any notes on stuff I’ve poured a lot of time into. I’ve even written an off-anon request before only to have the person who requested it not even like/reblog it, or make any sort of comment. I’ve been there, we’ve all been there, and it’s tough to climb back up.

I’m not sure how long you’ve been following me, but there was a point where my normal note count for hcs dropped from 700 notes down to 20-60 notes if I was lucky, just depending on what I was writing about. In fact, I even left the blog due to some bullying I was enduring and the combination of barely getting a note count that I had considered ‘good’. Since I’ve came back, I’ve focused on what made me happy, and even though I still have the knee-jerk reaction, I’ve learned not to try and compare notes. Ultimately, it’s made me happy, though I might have a bit of ‘survivor bias’ going on since I’ve been collecting readers since the start of 2017.

I have a few things that help me out, and one of them is learning to appreciate the notes I do have.

For example, even though its just been a day, I only have about 29 notes on my recent yooran drabble. Thats not including my own reblogs, and then if I were to not include friend reblogs, it’d be about 27 or 26. That’s incredibly low for me, personally, because if I post up a fic (depending on the character and theme) I can get around 80-100 notes depending on how lucky I am.

(Now thats not me trying to tell you 30ish notes isn’t a lot, because it is!! It is a lot and if you ever get that many notes on a post you should feel proud of it! But, if you’re me and you’ve been here for a while, that’s low compared to other posts of mine. Please keep reading so I can explain more: )

If this was back to last year, when I was contemplating leaving my blog, that would have hurt me a lot more than it does today, because I was constantly in a loop of comparing notes with my other posts or even my friends posts. I had convinced myself that notes = quality, when that’s not the case at all. Believe it or not, just because a post has 5 notes, or 1 note, or even 0 notes, doesn’t mean whatever content on it is terribly written, or shoddy, or dumb. There have been wonderful hc posts, wonderful pictures of art that I have seen that have barely gotten 10 notes.

So I think one thing that is hard to get yourself to learn is that a lack of notes doesn’t mean what you are producing is bad. Learning this is hard, and it’s especially hard when you’re constantly discouraged by lack of notes, but you need to write for yourself first and foremost. I haven’t been writing publicly for long, in fact I think the first fanfics I published were in 2016, but I had been writing since middle school. I used to carry a worn down composition notebook and write the most absolutely cringiest fanfiction ever. It had self inserts, it had ocs that were children of me and my favorites, it had terrible, terrible, references to games/music I loved as a kid- but no one read it but me. I never posted it online, and I wrote it to make me happy- and cringy middle school me was super fucking happy with that story. I’m pretty sure I was working through a second compositon notebook before I moved on from the show I was writing about.

From that point on, I knew I liked writing. I joined writing classes, wrote cringy fiction for my english teachers to read (good fucking god bless my teachers for putting up with my terrible shit but still encouraging me).

Eventually, since I liked writing so much and my drawing skills declined, I ended up promising to write stories for my friends birthdays. Where one person would be reading it, besides me, and that’s how it was until I posted my first MM fic on AO3. Even with those first few fics, I feel like it’s unfair to count them now, because they were posted just a few months after the game released, I believe, and I honestly just really consider myself lucky that those first two mm fics of mine got the traction they did.

But I think because I was so used to writing to make myself happy, it really fucked me up when I started trying on focusing my writing on only making others happy instead of myself.

So, a lot of newer folks might not know this, since I’m assuming a lot of people think this is just a pretty photo queue blog with occasional posts, but I started off writing Hcs on here. At first, I don’t think they got a huge traction, but as I slowly got more followers, I got more notes and requests. But eventually it got extremely taxing to keep those up, because what I had wanted was to make others happy with them, but it’s hard to believe you’re doing a good job when you drop from 700 to 20-60 notes. And so I stressed a lot to the point of ‘leaving’ (but as you can see that ended up just being a few month hiatus), but one thing was that I was forced to acknowledge how bad my viewpoint was on the whole situation. I had lost the motivation of writing for myself to make me happy, and instead tried to treat myself as a writing machine only meant to make others happy. That’s not a healthy viewpoint when it comes to writing, especially if you’re doing this as a hobby.

Because of all that, I stopped writing hc posts and focused on fics, because writing fanfics made me happy. It still makes me happy, and because I kept on truckin and still posting, I’m accomplishing things I never thought I would accomplish.

Writing for success is a long, hard, road that will often leave you unsatisfied, but writing for yourself is a shorter road that will make you happy- even if it’s just venting away emotions you couldn’t let out in any other way.

If it helps you out any, because I’m unsure if I’m making any sense, some pieces that I’m super happy about are pieces that no one but me and maybe one other person has seen. They’re locked away as drafts or in folders and I’m even unsure if I’ll share some of them.

Besides all of the stuff I’ve mentioned, if I’m feeling bad and what I just told you isn’t helping me, sometimes I just talk to a friend or two. Just hearing someone in real time, even if it’s possibly extremely bias or something, tell me that they like my stories or they think my writing is good- that still means a lot to me, and sometimes it perks me up. If that’s not an option with you, you can always talk to your family as well, or old teachers you may have shown some of your work to. I’m very fortunate to have a few teachers willing to help me out with a few questions, even though I’ve…long since graduated orz.

I’m sorry if none of this helps. But if anything, please please don’t give up writing. If you choose to do something like that, please have it be 100% your own decision that isn’t influenced by a note or hit count. I’m positive that whatever you are writing is good, and I know that not seeing that note count get higher hurts, but that note count has absolutely no bearing on how well written your story is.

If theres anything else I can talk to you about, please feel free to send me some more questions, and again I am really sorry if this didn’t help you.

#anonymous #scum talks #long post

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aikainkauna · 6 years

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Sorry I haven’t been giffing/posting/reglobbing much lately, guys. It’s that behemoth of a fic swallowing up all my sitting-upright time (and a big chunk of my reclining time). Four chapters or so to go and I’m still spending about 7-11 hours every day combing the remaining text for typos (yes, some of us actually do care about our fics and don’t think it’s some dirty “trashy,” “guilty pleasure” of less value), so it’s a full-time job with overtime. So if I’m slow to respond to anything, it’s that. I’m sure that soon enough, the post-fic existential emptiness will be upon us and you’ll be seeing more gifs and tag yelling.

Although it’s just been so quiet among the nice people here and so loud among the idiots that I might just take several steps back from Tumblr in general, just for my mental health. There seems little point in making gifs nobody reblogs and saying anything when it’s drowned out by the types who give liberals a bad name (honestly, some of the shit people say on here would already have made me a Nazi were I a bloke, because apparently nothing is ever enough and I’ll always be Doing it Wrong anyway; you’re not making tolerance seem worthwhile, if you nevertheless beat the tolerant person up for wearing the wrong types of socks).

I’m still looking for that fandom old people’s home, so if you find it, that place where people are old enough to have some fucking perspective, do let me know.

This whole place is eerily reminiscent of an abusive relationship where you’re constantly having to tiptoe because you never know when the next explosion is going to come and where from, what sort of utterly random thing someone is going to call abusive now and beat you up for, even if you’ve been working hard not to upset them, have made deliberate choices to accommodate them because you know their wounds. It’s like Borderline Personality Disorder, but in the form of a website. (And yes, I know first-hand what BPD is like. Had the spouse, had the flatmate, had the fuckbuddies, had the friends.) And the worst thing about BPD is that it’s catching: being around a human minefield makes everyone jumpy, and then *their* jumpiness becomes tyrannical towards others (when the hurt person is just self-defending, they feel) and then the cycle continues. Everybody is paranoid and beating everybody up in the name of great justice, and undermining everyone else’s psyches to the point where they become human minefields themselves. And they don’t know how to stop that cycle, if they’re in denial about having a problem, because of course, if you hurt and lash out, you’re just defending yourself. (Being told you’re a shitty person for freaking out at a trigger is worse than being triggered. Good luck trying to crawl out of that into any semblance of health, if you feel you’re just an explosive piece of crap forever.)

And while I know I can help a bit by stepping outside of that and offering fic and pics and lols where people can forget about it all, I’m still in two minds about offering it in a direction where the recipient is never going to be happy anyway, and where the effort is (or seems) wasted as long as the receiving end isn’t doing any conscious healing/rebuilding itself to better appreciate healthier things. It does nothing. Why am I buying medicine for someone who abuses me for it and throws the bottle in my face? I’ve been there, trying to please people who were locked up in their traumas and paranoias, throwing all my love and effort and work at them to no avail because I thought I could help; I’m not keen on doing it again. Because now I’m old enough to know I’m wasting my time, as brutal and as “selfish” that sounds (how about calling it “self-preservation?” “Sanity?” “Kindness to oneself?” I know women are beaten out of daring to have that, for daring to even think their lives aren’t meant to be lived for other people, but fucking watch me go).

Just like partners and friends aren’t the same as professional help, fandom isn’t the ultimate cure for depression/trauma unless there’s an inner change in the ill person to better utilise it. I was that ill person and I had to go through a lot of therapy and growth to not become a 24/7 abusive bitch myself (I still have shitty hypersensitivities, but those are in-built–they’re bad enough). I changed the way I see fannish activities (I now really do see them as medicine), and only then could I enjoy them to the fullest and only then could I start writing really good fic, because it comes from a firm ground of faith in the inherent value of fic. It’s a really complicated thing to explain, the interrelationships of fandom, queer people and mental health (there should be a book on fandom/queerdom and mentalness–we are wonky in the head, sometimes fucking awfully so, and it’s *not* all due to persecution but genes).

But my gist is that there’s no point in endlessly remaining in a draining relationship with someone who doesn’t want to heal–Tumblr’s anxiety-mongering culture of self-hate, ahoy! One has to pick one’s “battles” and channel one’s energy somewhere where it’s actually going to bear fruit. Not on a site that says the phrase “I don’t discriminate by colour” is racist, or that a feminist, mixed-race royal princess “isn’t enough” or that a given sexual minority gets to rule it over everyone else. Not on a site full of kids who are too young/American to have known *real* homophobia and racism, and who don’t realise that for most people, in the real world, even not being racist or homophobic is a *choice.*

Which is why I miss that supportive community of other brainy, feminist and reasonable fans who actually had conversations so. Fucking. Much. Where are they? (DW is where the militant vegan lesbian sociopath SJWs went, and if you’re not keen on eternal frowny moral meta, ehhh.)

Where’s the actual fun? Where are the other fans who are old enough to have been through therapy and who have experienced real relationships and have known actual real “minority” people IRL, and who consequently have an open mind about things? Who can see that things really aren’t as black and white as they thought they were when they were in their teens? Where are the fans who know something about psychology and psychiatry? The ones who know how gendered socialisation works and just how deep it goes, and who aren’t fans of Tumblr essentialism and its blindness to gender-based toxins? The fans who actually understand and respect the intelligence of other fans, instead of kneejerk assumptions of ignorance and moral corruption? The fans who legit don’t think a Gen X writer who forgot to use–or simply didn’t know about the existence of–a new politically correct term, is as evil as Hitler (because ignorance=/=active, intentional oppression, Jesus!)? The fans who respect the labor that goes into fanfic and fanart and always leave comments or otherwise support fan creators, instead of thinking of writers as vending machines for something “dirty” they feel ashamed for reading?

Because I’m that kind of “old” fan and I’ll be there for you if you’re there for me.

I just need to know where the fuck you are!

#mental health #whatever else i need to tag this as #discourse #?#personal #there's an unfortunate type of the entitled american kid on here #who's never been called the n-word in her face repeatedly and spat on #and who hasn't had dog shit dropped through her letterbox #which is the reality of anyone even slightly sepia over in most of europe #so yeah...#the gap between the world i grew up in and its intolerances #compared to what some people think isn't enough now #is just... mindboggling #tolerance is still a choice #and i feel more and more spite building up in myself at the entitled shit #to the point where i'd actively want to do something nasty to the whiners #(clarification: in the sense of smacking some sense into them by showing how bad it can be/is)#but i don't bc i'm a fucking decent human being #most straight white guys though? they are now acting on that spite #if you don't give someone a chance and condemn them #you are leaving them with very few alternatives #it's the good old reactionary syndrome of demon pride--call someone evil=they'll celebrate it #ah well anyway i guess i should return to my fic

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its-love-u-asshole · 7 years

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Fic Writers Week Day 3: Small But Mighty

Shine a spotlight on the new/underrated fics you’ve read or written.

Yeeessss it’s rec time! I know there’s also the last day to rec fics in general, but I love the idea behind this day a lot too! There’s so many beautiful fics that I’ve read which don’t receive the amount of recognition/kudos that they deserve! I can’t wait to spread the word about them! Since this might be a longer post, I’m putting it under a read more! Enjoy <3

Also, I want to encourage people to try reading new fics as much as possible! While fic rec lists are a good source to start and get ideas about what to read, often times people rely on them too much, and then overlook newer fics which are just as amazing! So every once in a while, remember to check the ship tags on ao3 for newly posted works, that way you don’t miss any hidden gems!

Alright, let’s get into it!

in a flash (ao3) -- Kurotsuki, G

He sees a red beanie covering messy black hair, a soft and boyish smile lit up by the sunlight, and a gray cat.

Click.

Okay so this kurotsuki fic definitely needs twice as many kudos/comments, because the writing was downright phenomenal! It was so beautiful and made me feel warm inside all throughout reading it, I couldn’t get enough! The characterizations are excellent, and the whole mood of the fic is so cozy and wonderful. Please check it out if you love kurotsuki! Also make sure to follow @cawnvictofmurder on tumblr!

a haunting in tokyo (ao3) -- Daisuga, G

This wasn’t the first time Suga had claimed their apartment had been haunted. However, it was the first time he tried to do something about it. Daichi, as always, is nothing but supportive.

This fic was short, but unbelievably sweet! I loved the mix of domestic daisuga fluff with paranormal shenanigans lmao, it was just a super enjoyable fic which had me giggling constantly. I don’t read much daisuga, but it was definitely a treat, and I’d recommend the fic to all! Please also make sure to follow @bishounen-curious <3

Starved (ao3) -- Kurotsuki, T

Kei can’t make it this week. Next week, maybe, he’ll be here but Tetsurou is all out of patience.

Prompt: “I’m tired of being your secret.”

@ivyfics has too many amazing fics which deserve more attention, but this one I feel especially needs to be read. The writing and emotions are just...incredible, I reread this fic so much because I’m in awe of how well it’s written. It’s the perfect mix of angst and relationship development, and I super appreciate that it’s from Kuroo’s POV! Please check it out if you love kurotsuki! It’s worth the read (and reread lol) ^^

Where to Start (ao3) -- TeruShira, G

It's the second date Kenjirou has been on and he can feel Yuuji already figuring him out. He wants to be the boyfriend he wants Yuuji to have, but he doesn't know where to start.

Alright so this author in general just needs more love, yeah TeruShira (or any Shirabu ship really lol) is a rarepair, but gah trust me, after you read this fic you’ll be hopping onto the shipping train so damn fast. The characterizations are so realistic and interesting, and the interactions between the pair are so fun and touching. Please check this fic out, as well as all of SilverAmoebasquid‘s other works!

A God for Every Season (ao3) -- Matsuhana, T

Mortals have all kinds of foolish tales, like how Hades and Persephone's annual reunion causes the seasons. Matsukawa knows better.

Alright, I don’t have time to get into this because for this fic, I can honestly write a 10 page essay about how much I love it. So lemme just say, the writing and the romance is top notch, like...wow, words cannot describe how beautiful the writing is. You seriously need to read it in order to understand. I also love mythology aus, and this delivered! The retelling of Hades/Persephone reuniting was so creative and enjoyable, I want to reread it all again just from typing this lol. @90stimkon did an incredible job with this fic and all their fics, so please check them all out! <3

Waiting for Spring (ao3) -- Kurotsuki, NR

Kuroo had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once. And then "The Dream" happened. Everyday, he dreamt of the neighborhood where he lived, and he always saw a stranger with short blond hair, a tall stature, and black-framed glasses in his dreams. He didn't know who he was, but he was determined to find out.

Kuroo had only ever been enamored with a person in his lifetime once. And then "The Dream" happened. That was the second time.

This fic isn’t exactly recent but I’ll never stop reccing it until it’s been read by everyone lmao I swear! It’s a bit on the angstier side, and there’s a warning for mental illness mentions, but it’s a gorgeous fic. It explores Tsukishima’s emotions and character so well, Kuroo’s too! The details about mental health and Kuroo’s feelings/situation are great, it’s definitely a dream fic which flows into reality so well! I loved the ending, I loved the whole fic, so please give it a shot!

24 Hours (ao3) -- Iwaoi, E

Iwaizumi, a special investigations agent, finds himself falling in love with someone who may already be dead.

@serviceace is an amazing writer, and this crime au has got me so hooked! If you like crime mysteries and detective!Iwaizumi, this is the fic for you! It’s ongoing, but each chapter is so interesting and fun to read, and the questions keep me on the edge of my seat! Please go read this fic if you’re a sucker for iwaoi and police aus, as I am ;)

To The Skies (ao3) -- Kacchako, M

It was supposed to be a typical evening for Bakugou Katsuki. A masquerade ball, a night of serving the royal family as he always did. But when the party goes horribly wrong it's up to servant boy Bakugou to rescue the princess, Uraraka Ochako. His rescue mission is about to change both of their lives completely, and eventually Uraraka will want to reclaim her throne.

Now, older, the two reunite, realizing their lives have gone in very different directions. Ochako, part of the Resistance against the horrible Academy, and Bakugou, a famed sky pirate, traveling the island clusters to find various bounties. Together, they fight to take back the home they once knew and loved.

Okay y’all, lemme tell you, if you love Kacchako, you need to read this! The idea is so damn original, and Rache’s writing is A++ as always. The world she builds and the character relationships that she crafts are so well done. This fic seriously deserves more attention, so please go read! <3 Also follow her writing blog on tumblr @emeraldwaves ! You won’t be disappointed!

Tacky Shoes and Movie Tickets (ao3) -- Bokuaka, T

Akaashi deals with a lot of stupid people.

He isn't yet certain if Bokuto falls into that category.

In which Akaashi is the manager of a movie theater, Bokuto is the new hire at the shoe store downstairs, and the two of them get along much better than Akaashi could have anticipated.

Okay so I was super surprised that this fic didn’t have more kudos! It’s so light hearted and funny, not to mention perfectly sweet! It’s ongoing, but I can’t wait for more. @worthlesspride writes some of the best bokuaka out there, it’s so fluffy and heartwarming, not to mention the writing flows so well! Please read and support it!

Alright, so I’m going to do some self promo because why not? This day is for fic writers too after all lmao.

Perfectly Aligned (ao3) -- Kurotsuki, T

Kuroo didn’t know how he’d made it back here, standing beneath the glistening war machines known as Jaegers. He was the definite outsider, not just at the Shatterdome, but in this world. The world of Jaeger pilots had long since closed its door on him, and now here he was, knocking once again. However, maybe this time, he wouldn’t be alone.

Just a good ol’ Pacific Rim AU. I really loved playing with this universe, and tbh it’s probably some of my best writing?? It didn’t get much attention because I posted it during a busy exchange week, but I’m definitely proud of it and hope more people can read it!

Ceaseless (ao3) -- Kiyoyachi, E

The life of an assassin isn't an easy one. Devoid of morals and full of the criminal underworld's grime , it's a job Kiyoko has always been weirdly perfect at. She's long stopped thinking about why, but just because she kills without remorse, doesn't mean she doesn't have her own attachments.

I’m including this one because f/f ships do not get nearly enough attention as they should. I live for f/f content, and I hope I can read a lot more in the future and introduce ppl to it through fics like this! This fic did not get many kudos, but I think it was actually pretty good writing/smut, so please give it a try if you like kiyoyachi!

Let My Love (ao3) -- Kurotsuki, T

For Kuroo, finding love was all about patience. He had no problem with waiting for the right person to come along, no matter how many awkward dinners or weddings he had to endure as a single man until they did. Regardless, meeting Tsukishima was something he’d never been prepared for. The feelings were overwhelming and intoxicating, ones he was sure he’d do anything for. However, it seemed his endless waiting wasn’t over.

While this fic isn’t short on kudos, I feel like it gets overlooked when compared to my siren au for kurotsuki. While this fic is a bit angstier than Slipping Underneath, it’s one of my most favorite that I’ve ever written. Writing slow burn is a challenge, but I think so far I’m doing well lol?? I love writing this fic, so if you want, I hope you can also enjoy reading it! <3

I Search Through the Crowd (ao3) -- Iwaoi, T

It wasn't uncommon to believe in reincarnation, most people did, but it wasn't some flippant thing. Only people with the strongest of bonds were reincarnated, or so legend put it. Hajime could be dense sometimes, but he didn't miss the meaning Tooru was trying to convey.

"I'll find you."

Lastly, this was my first iwaoi fic, and I was really proud of it even though it didn’t get much attention. It was a struggle to write, but overall, I’m super happy with the result, so I hope you guys can get the chance to read it! I hope I get to write even more iwaoi in the future too!

#ficwritersweek #haikyuu!!#reccing stuff is so fun lol #fic recs #kurotsuki #kacchako

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t0doroki · 7 years

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Buried Underneath (chapter 1/?)

Hey guys! So Juzen has totally grown on me over time, so I decided to write a fic a while ago. Here’s chapter 1 of it for JuminZen Week Day 1: Secrets! Hope you like it, and if you want to continue reading, the other chapters can be found here! Happy JuminZen week!

I stare at the clock on the wall of my office, reading that it was 16:48. Exactly twelve grueling minutes until I am free to leave for the day. My day at work has consisted of the same tedious tasks that I’ve grown accustomed to doing every other day. Paperwork, meetings, more paperwork. Although the workload was a bit heavier, since it was Assistant Kang’s day off today. Everything is perfectly ordinary except for one thing.

I have been hearing my phone vibrating in the desk drawer that it’s been locked in all day. I did not like to take out my phone during work as it was unprofessional, and I didn’t take a lunch break today so I could get more work done. I have been shaking it off all day just assuming it was notifications from the RFA group chat. 16:51 now. Nine minutes until I can check.

I don’t want to just sit here since that will make the minutes crawl by even more slowly. I decide to spend a little time straightening out my office, making sure that everything is prim and proper and that nothing is out of place even by one centimeter.

16:55. My phone is still vibrating like mad in the drawer. I feel a strange, almost foreboding feeling. I just continued to straighten everything out. What the hell could be going on? Other than Assistant Kang, shouldn’t everyone either be in work or school right now?

16:58. I begin to feel a little bit nauseous. Why is it that I’m afraid to pick up the phone?

It’s probably just Yoosung talking about his dumb game, or Luciel telling some unfunny jokes. More likely, Zen is posting selfies and Assistant Kang is gushing over them telling him how handsome and talented he is. I roll my eyes and give a half-hearted chuckle to myself at the thought.

Zen and I butt heads constantly as our personalities, lives, and upbringings are so different from each other. I don’t know if he feels the same, but deep down, Zen has always been like a brother to me. The RFA wouldn’t be the same without him, no matter how much we may argue.

“Calm down, you’re worrying for nothing,” I think to myself. I repeat this mantra until the clock finally reads 17:00.

I immediately grab the key, unlock the drawer, and pull out my phone. Fifty missed calls and 27 text messages. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. What the hell is this…? I decide to call Assistant Kang to inform me of what’s happening, since many of the missed calls are from her. I only hear one ring before she answers.

“Mr. Han!” she exclaims, and it is easy to detect the worry in her voice.

“What’s happened?” I ask her plainly.

I hear her shuddering breaths before she speaks, as if she’s trying not to break down. This made my heart drops even further. Something terrible has happened.

“It’s Zen…,” she choked out. “He’s been in a terrible accident. He was on his motorcycle and was run off of the road. He’s alive, but in critical condition.” Her voice breaks, and lets out a sob. “They aren’t sure if he’ll pull through, Mr. Han.”

The shock of this information makes my entire body go numb. I can’t feel anything other than blood rushing to my head and the nausea. The only thing I can mutter out is, “Zen?”

I could hear Assistant Kang sniffling on the other line. “Luciel, Yoosung, and V are at the hospital right now. Since Zen has no close family, we were discussing all of us going there and supporting him.”

After a while, I look down and realize I’ve clenched my hand so hard that my knuckles have turned white. I unclench my hand and it begins to shake. My breathing begins to quicken and my thoughts are all over the place. I can’t allow Assistant Kang to know of my emotions.

I steady my breathing and gather my thoughts, finally telling Assistant Kang, “Alright. I’ll call Driver Kim. Are you home? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Yes, I’m home…,” she replies quietly. “Mr. Han, are you feeling okay?” I must not be doing a good enough job at hiding how I feel. Assistant Kang has been around me enough to know when something has disturbed me, so I should be trying a little harder.

“I’m fine. I’ll be there soon. Please be ready,” I say stoically and hang up immediately after. I call Driver Kim and tell him I need to be driven to the hospital to see my ailing friend.

I should be going to the building’s lobby to wait for Driver Kim, but can’t bring myself to move my legs. I end up collapsing on the floor and resting my head on my knees.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot, Zen?” I’m thinking to myself, feeling my blood boil. “Those motorcycles are dangerous and you know it. Why do you ride them? Why did you do it?” I punch the wall next to me. This can’t be happening. Not one of our own. Not Zen.

I hear a knock on my office door and immediately pick myself up. “Come in,” I say. In walks an unfamiliar young man, probably a temp or intern.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you but I heard a bang and I was wondering if you were alright?” the man asked with wide eyes, clearly concerned.

Shit. He must have heard it when I punched the wall in my anger. “I’m fine, I just dropped something,” I lie. He simply nodded and closed the door behind him. I suppose I should be thankful to him, since this prompts me to get up and walk to the lobby. On my way down, I try my best to avoid any contact with the other employees. I can barely bring myself to walk right now let alone hold a conversation with somebody. Just as I walk in the lobby, I see Driver Kim’s car pull up to the front of the building with impeccable timing.

We greet each other as we normally do, and I ask him to drive to Assistant Kang’s house. Driver Kim knows that it’s best to not ask any questions when I’m bothered, which I’m incredibly grateful for.

We pull up to Assistant Kang’s apartment complex, and I text her letting her know we’re outside. When she emerges from the doors she is clearly a bit disheveled, hair slightly messy and clothes much more casual than I’m used to. Upon a closer look, her eyes are red and her cheeks are stained with tears. I’ve never seen her like this and never imagined that I ever would. I give her a knowing stare and she shivers.

“I apologize for my appearance, Mr. Han,” she mutters to me, avoiding my gaze.

“No need, I understand given the current situation,” I tell her, and rub my eyes with my thumb and index finger. The rest of the drive is silent until we arrive at the hospital.

This was my first time ever at a hospital in all my years of living. I’ve never been sick or injured and neither has anyone close to me. We are all well taken care of. I am only hoping that Assistant Kang fails to pick up on how anxious I’m feeling upon entering the emergency department.

Assistant Kang talks to the receptionist and asks for the room Hyun Ryu is staying in and we begin walking to the room in silence afterwards. Assistant Kang knocks on the door and it is opened by Yoosung, tears brimming his eyes.

“Hey guys…,” he tries to smile at us but fails miserably. He just looks like he’s in pain. “how’s it going?” Trying to make small talk in this situation? Although, what else can you do, I suppose…

Without even thinking about it, I immediately ask about Zen. “How is he? What are his injuries?” The tears spill from Yoosung’s eyes after I speak. Luciel walks up next to Yoosung and wraps his arm around his shoulders to comfort him.

Luciel lets out a deep sigh before explaining what’s going on. His eyes are a little red as well. “The doctor says Zen has two broken legs, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, and possibly some spinal damage.” My heart sank with each thing he listed off. “He may make it through, but the doctors don’t know if he’ll ever walk again if he does make it…” Luciel trailed off.

Next to me, Assistant Kang burst into tears. Luciel wraps his other arm around her and she buries her face in his neck. I stand there fiddling with my cuff links, trying to do anything to comfort myself. Then it dawned on me.

“Where is V?” I ask after realizing my old friend was supposedly here but not part of this group.

“He’s sitting next to Zen’s bed, around the corner,” Luciel tells me.

I take a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to see. I decide to just go for it, and turn the corner to wear Zen is laying. The sight makes my stomach turn and bile begins to rise up in my throat.

There lies Zen, hooked up to all kinds of machines, face bloody and swollen, both legs in slings, and with little lacerations and bruises all over his body. V is sleeping in a chair next to him, with his hand resting on top of one of Zen’s wrapped ones. I can’t help but let out a gasp at what I’m looking at.

Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up and he’s in the chatroom posting selfies like he normally is. Please tell me this isn’t real.

“Jihyun.” I say, putting my hand on V’s shoulder and shaking it lightly.

V stirs a bit before I can see him slowly opening his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Jumin,” he whispers, “I’m very glad you’re here. How are you doing?”

I immediately wanted to scold him for still not having gotten the eye surgery, but decided that was probably not the best thing to do at the moment. “I could be better. It’s been a while. How are things?” I asked him, trying to follow Yoosung’s example to lighten the mood as much as I could.

“Same as they always are,” he sighed, turning back to Zen. V seemed so dejected, so frail and broken. He already went through losing Rika and it had taken such a toll on him. He wasn’t the same cheery and full of life Jihyun Kim that I used to know. Can he really handle possibly losing Zen?

Could I really handle possibly losing Zen?

I felt something funny in my throat, like a lump. I tried hard to swallow it down, but it just kept coming back up at the thought of Zen not pulling through this. The RFA was practically family to me, and family is an important part of me.

Losing Zen would be like losing a part of me.

“Jumin…” V breathed, standing up and placing his hand on my cheek. “You’re crying?”

I flinched away from him quickly, not even realizing the tears that were flowing down my face. I grab one of the tissues that was sitting on the table next to the bed. I wiped off my face, silently praying that no one would turn the corner and see me like this. According to Zen, I was a “stone cold robot” anyway. God, what I wouldn’t give for us to go back to our regular bickering. Why the hell couldn’t I pull myself together? Get your shit together.

V looks at me, his eyes full of concern and surprise. Even though we knew each other for over twenty years, he had never seen me cry. Not even when Rika died.

I feel like I have so much to say, but can’t figure out what it was. Looking at my old friend’s worried face, knowing everything that he had been through, makes me want to break down and open up. But I just can’t do it. So I keep it all inside me as I always do. It’s better this way, right?

“Jumin,” he repeats, sounding oddly stern, “tell me.”

More tears flow. How much longer could I keep this up? I shake my head at him like a child. Why the hell was I acting like this?

“Jumin,” he says a third time. But this time, he does something that catches me totally off guard. He walks right in front of me and pulls me in for a hug. “Please don’t hold it in. We’re all hurting and we all know that you are too.”

After a few seconds, I hug him back, oddly comforted by the physical contact. I rest my chin on his shoulder and just let myself cry, and in a second breaking down all of the walls that I had previously built.

“V...,” I manage to get out in between my cries, still hoping to God that the other three were having their own conversation and wouldn’t turn the corner, “I can’t handle losing anyone else. He’s like my brother…”

V breaks away from me and looks at me with a piercing gaze. “Then you should tell him that.”

I look at V quizzically. “Why would that make a difference now?” I question. “He’s unconscious. He won’t hear me.”

“He’ll hear,” V states matter-of-factly. “Maybe that’s something Zen wants to know. You’ll regret it if you never have the chance to tell him”

I pause, not knowing what to say to that. V had gone through loss, so maybe I should trust him on this?

He grabs his cane and walks passed me to where the other three are standing. Assistant Kang is still sobbing with Luciel’s arm wrapped around her. “I can’t bring myself to see him like this,” she cries.

V walks up to the three and puts his hand on Assistant Kang’s shoulder. “Jaehee,” he says softly, “we all understand. It isn’t an easy sight to see. I was going to go get some food. Maybe you’ll feel better after a little walk and a bite to eat. Plus, I need someone to help me get there,” he chuckled lightly.

“Of course, V, I’ll gladly help,” Assistant Kang says, cracking a small smile.

V turns to Luciel and Yoosung. “Would you two like to come as well?”

I see what you’re trying to do, V.

“Yeah,” Yoosung says, “I’m starving. But what about Jumin?” Everyone looks to me.

“I’d… like to stay here with Zen. I don’t want to leave him alone.” I say, starting to no longer care about hiding my emotions at this point.

Everyone stared at me as if I had two heads. “Well then!” Luciel says, smiling. “Alright, we’ll be back! Let us know if you need anything.” Then they walk out, leaving me alone with Zen.

I turn my head to face Zen’s broken body, my stomach turning again as I stare. I hate seeing my friends in pain. I hate seeing Zen this way. “Please wake up from this nightmare,” I think to myself.

I sit down in the chair, and work up the courage to place my hand on top of Zen’s just as V had. His hand twitches a little at the contact, which startles me.

“Still messing with me even in a coma, hm?” I say to him with a small smile. “How typical of you.” I sigh. What was I supposed to say to him? How could I tell him everything that I felt? He wasn’t even awake.

“Zen, what you did was really stupid. And I think that you know that so I’m not going to waste too much time lecturing you,” I chuckle a little bit. “But you know I would only do that out of love, right?” I swallow the lump in my throat again.

“Zen…,” I begin, tears brimming my eyes, “no matter how much we bicker, no matter, how much we fight, no matter how rude I may seem… You are still like my brother and one of my closest friends. Without you, the RFA would never be the same. You’re a good person who goes out of his way to help the ones that he loves, which is exactly what an RFA member should be. We can’t continue to exist without you…” My voice cracks and the tears start flowing yet again.

“I’ll help you through your recovery any way I can. I will help with medical bills, I’ll send you maids and a body guard so you can focus on getting well, I’ll do anything! Just please wake up!” I practically beg him.

After that, I’m kind of expecting him to magically wake up like you see in those cheesy movies, but no such luck.

“Zen…,” I cry. “Please don’t make me lose you too…”

#juminzen #juzen #juminzenweek #jumin han #zen #hyun ryu #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #my writing

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