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ashdumpsterpile · 3 years

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ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do) by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this.

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up.

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust.

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend. Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.)

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.)

________

#lmao follow for more fic recs #ash recs #ash's rec list #ash recs fics #tma fic list #tma fics #jmart #jmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma fic recs

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myriadimagines · 4 years

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Chips and Orange Soda

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Raymond Holt, Rosa Diaz

Warnings: theft

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part Two: Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Word Count: 2,697

A/N: my submission for @locke-writes‘ writing challenge! i know everyone wanted me to post the whole fic at once but then it ended up being 5k+ words i made the executive decision that it was probably best for everyones sanity to split it up into 2 parts. think of it as a commercial break in the episode <3 i’m gonna disclaimer this by saying that i’m not a cop or in law enforcement. idk how this shit works. i tried my best but this isn’t legally accurate. anyway! based on the prompt: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

“Not late! I’m not late!” Jake announces, rushing into the briefing room with his bag still slung over his shoulder. He ignores the eye rolls from Amy and Terry, and plops down in the seat Charles has saved for him. He leans back, dumping his bag on the floor as he tries to catch his breath, before noticing Holt’s disapproving stare. “I’m not! Look, I’m right on time!”

Jake points over at the clock hanging on the wall, and Holt glances over his shoulder before turning back to Jake. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Peralta. That clock broke down two days ago.”

Jake takes a proper look at the clock, which, sure enough, is frozen at three minutes past two o’clock.

“Okay, well…” Jake cringes. “I had a flat tire?”

“As I was saying,” Holt ignores Jake’s excuse, reorganizing the case files on the podium as the squad quickly focuses. Pulling up a few pictures on the television, Holt curtly explains, “Two bodegas were robbed last night, and we suspect it may be the same person, or group or people, who robbed the three bodegas last week. Thankfully, no one was injured, but we need to crack down on this case before it happens again.”

The squad nods in agreement, and Amy taps her pen against the desk as she takes notes. Gesturing towards Rosa, Holt asks, “Diaz, you were investigating last week’s robberies. Where are you in solving the case?”

“Nowhere, sir.” Rosa begrudgingly admits, folding her arms across her chest as she shakes her head. “Forensics dusted the place for prints but found nothing, and the security footage was crap. Couldn’t pull any good images because it was so old. All I know is that it looks like at least two individuals are involved.”

Holt slowly nods, pressing his lips together as he deliberates this. Pointing at Jake, he orders, “Conduct some interviews around the block, see if anyone saw anything. Perhaps you’ll have more luck this time. And take Peralta with you, you’ll be able to cover more ground. Everyone, you’re dismissed.”

Jake looks over his shoulder to exchange a nod with Rosa before everyone gets to their feet. Holt closes up his file, and quickly stops Jake before he can leave the room, “Oh, and Jake?”

Jake pauses in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

“While you’re out, you can get some new batteries for the clock.” Holt points back at the defunct clock. Raising an eyebrow, Holt continues, “So next time, you can actually take a look at how late you are.”

Beside him, Amy can’t help but snort at Jake’s expense, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

—

Jake jogs over to the bodega, a cup of coffee in hand from the nearby food cart. He ducks under the police tape bordering the store, and he gingerly steps around the shattered glass scattered on the pavement. He can already see Rosa inside, taking off her sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of her shirt, and he can see that the forensics team have already marked up the scene. Rosa looks up as Jake approaches, and she informs him, “This one’s different from the others; they actually broke in instead of picking the lock. Otherwise, they took all the cash, and it doesn’t look like anything from the inventory was taken.”

“Which is kinda weird, considering this place has pretty cool chip flavors and orange soda.” Jake points to a nearby shelf, and Rosa shoots him a look. Shrugging, Jake looks at the rest of the shelves and the fridge as he mumbles to himself, “I’m just saying.”

“Security footage from this whole week is missing too.” Rosa continues. She groans, shaking her head as she takes another glance around the scene. “I don’t know how we’re going to get anywhere with this.”

The two of them make their way back outside, where a small crowd is now lingering outside the store, curiously trying to peek inside as the cops try to corral everyone. Pointing at them, Rosa suggests, “Maybe we can find a witness.”

Jake follows her gaze, quickly sweeping over the individuals before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes momentarily meet, but you quickly look away and turn your attention back to the smashed glass. You’re cute, Jake thinks to himself with a grin, all bundled up in a denim jacket that, and when you turn to look at something over your shoulder, he can’t help but notice has a cool design of some planets stitched on the back. Rolling back his shoulders, Jake holds out his cup of coffee, and he says, “Allow me to handle this, Rosa,”

Rosa rolls her eyes at the annoyingly confident tone Jake quickly adopts, and pointedly refuses to hold Jake’s coffee for him.

“Alright then,” Jake awkwardly takes his coffee back, and he gulps down the rest, fanning his tongue as it burns his mouth. Tossing it aside into a nearby trash can, Jake quickly composes himself, readjusting his jacket before approaching you. He offers you his hand, and you hesitate before shaking it, and Jake introduces, “Hey, I’m Detective Peralta. Cool jacket, by the way.”

“y/n.” you introduce yourself with a small smile, shaking his hand before you pull away to self consciously tug at the sleeves of your jacket. “And thanks. My friend made it for me as a birthday gift.”

“Nice,” Jake grins at you, before gesturing over his shoulder. “You come here often? It’s a pretty awesome bodega.”

“Uh, well, I work here.” you slowly respond, and you can see something in Jake’s expression falter as his cheeks get red. You bite back a smile as you continue, “So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool,” Jake nods, fumbling to come up with a response. His palms suddenly feel sweaty, and he scrambles to think of his next question.

“I’ll let our owner know, by the way.” you pipe up, and Jake blinks at you. Nervously chuckling, you add, “That you think the bodega is awesome. He’ll appreciate it.”

“Oh!” Jake laughs, and you can’t help but smile. Gesturing to the store, Jake continues, “I’ve gotta say, your snack selection is the best I’ve ever seen. I mean, you’ve got every flavor of everything in there! Also, any place that carries orange soda is automatically awesome in my book.”

“Well of course,” you respond with a smile. “It’s the best flavor!”

“Right?!” Jake perks up, and the both of you dissolve into laughter before Jake looks over his shoulder and notices Rosa glaring at him. Quickly clamming up, Jake attempts to focus himself, and his eyes widen as he remembers the fact that you work here. “Are you the cashier or something?”

“Yep.” you nod, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I just worked yesterday, too. I can’t believe someone robbed it last night.”

“What time were you here until?” Jake asks.

“The shop closes around midnight, and I was the one who locked up.” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Jake can’t help but notice as you momentarily break his gaze, and you glance at the store before back at him. “Usually our owner, Gabriel, closes up, but he’s been sick this past week, so I’ve been helping out.”

“Got it,” Jake nods, mentally taking note of all this information. The both of you look up as Rosa joins in on the conversation, and Jake continues, “And I’m assuming you didn’t see any sign of suspicious activity before you left?”

You shake your head, uneasily glancing over at Rosa as she looks at you. “Sorry, Detective.”

“No, you’ve actually been super helpful.” Jake reassures you, and he offers you a friendly smile that puts you at ease. You relax, and Jake continues, “It helps us roughly estimate when the crime took place. Do you know anything about your security footage, by the way? This is my partner, Detective Diaz, and she noticed the footage was somehow erased.”

Something in your expression shifts, and Jake can’t quite read the look on your face. Rosa narrows her eyes at you, and after a pause, you respond, “I think our cameras have been down.”

Jake and Rosa exchange an uncertain glance, and you can feel your stomach twisting into knots as you know they don’t look convinced. The atmosphere becomes intense, especially as you feel yourself under Rosa’s stern gaze, and Jake quickly tries to lighten the mood as he tells you, “I think that’s it. Thanks for answering our questions, y/n.”

You nod, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow as your gaze lingers on him, your lips moving as if you want to tell him more. But you stop yourself, taking in a deep breath, before responding, “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

You turn on your heel, and Jake watches as you head down the block. He looks over to see Rosa studying you, before she shakes her head. “I don’t like it, Jake. They seemed suspicious to me.”

“They were just nervous.” Jake finds himself defending you. “And probably a little frazzled, too. They were the last one in the shop, if they had stayed any longer, they could’ve been in danger.”

“Or they could have something to do with the crime.” Rosa counteracts, and Jake lets out a sigh. Leaning towards him, Rosa continues, “I know we don’t have solid evidence, but I just have a feeling something’s up, Jake. Plus, it doesn’t help that you were flirting.”

Jake gapes at her. “I was not flirting!”

“Look, we need to solve this before Holt gets on my case about it.” Rosa insists. Jake lets out a sigh, before glancing down the direction you walked, and he can just barely see your figure heading into the subway station.

“I’ll be right back.” Jake tells her, and before Rosa can stop him, he jogs after you. By the time he’s entered the station, he’s terribly out of breath, and he manages to catch you before you enter through the turnstile. “y/n!”

You look up upon hearing your name and you pause as Jake stops in front of you. He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and you patiently wait for him. Through heavy breaths, Jake manages to puff out, “Yeah, sorry, super unfit. The chips and the orange soda clearly don’t help.”

Jake tries his best not to cringe at what he feels like is the lamest joke he’s ever made, but to his surprise, you laugh. A genuine laugh, not a cruel, teasing one, but one with a wide smile that makes Jake feel like he’s on top of the world. Tilting your head, you manage to say in between chuckles, “You’re pretty funny, Detective.”

“Call me Jake.” Jake insists, finally regaining his breath, and you grin at him. “Hey, any chance I could get your number? For professional reasons of course, in case we need to contact you again. Or I could just give you my number if you feel better doing it that way.”

You seem hesitant, but you nod. He fumbles through his pocket, pulling out an old receipt and a pen that barely has enough ink in it, and you scribble out your number before handing it back to him, “I work every day but Tuesdays, too, so you’ll be able to catch me at work if you need me.”

“Got it.” Jake nods, tucking the receipt into his pocket. “Thanks for your help, y/n.”

The expression that Jake can’t decipher crosses your face again, a look of pensiveness, of hesitation. But you shake it off, quickly plastering on a smile, and you nod, “Have a good day, Jake. And… good luck.”

—

Jake and Rosa sit in the break room, a laptop open between them as they flip through countless CCTV videos from the blocks nearby the bodega. Rosa becomes increasingly aggressive with the keyboard with each video she clicks through, and Jake impatiently shakes his head. He groans, rubbing his fingers up against his temple as he complains, “This is killing me. If I have to look at one more minute of another grainy video, I’m going to lose it.”

Rosa rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms across her chest. She kicks Jake’s chair with her boot, and she points out, “This is all we have, Jake.”

Jake sighs, but nods. Rosa had interviewed some people in the neighboring apartments, some of which reported hearing smashed glass around three in the morning, but hadn’t called it in on the assumption it was a clumsy accident from a downstairs neighbor. It at least gave them a time of the crime, but as Rosa unfortunately pointed out, it didn’t give them much else. The CCTV didn’t seem to pick up on anything interesting, no speeding cars, and a brief moment of footage that might’ve captured the suspects only showed their retreating backs. The forensics team had also swept over all the evidence from the bodega, but had yet to find anything incriminating, not even a single fingerprint which could help lead the investigation somewhere.

“These guys clearly know what they were doing.” Rosa grumbles, jabbing her finger into the screen. “They know to avoid all the camera spots.”

“I hate smart criminals. Why can’t they all be dumb and just make it easier for us?” Jake whines, and Rosa rolls her eyes.

“Have you talked to y/n lately?” Rosa asks, and Jake shakes his head, hoping Rosa doesn’t notice the faint blush that lights up his cheeks at the mere mention of your name.

“No, Rosa, who do you think I am? That’s way too forward.” Jake scoffs, before his expression turns serious. It’s been a little over a week since your interaction, and he looks at Rosa before continuing, “Unless you don’t think it’s too forward. Should I text them?”

Rosa resists the urge to punch Jake’s arm, and she deadpans, “Talked to them about the case, Jake, not for a date.”

“Right.” Jake nods, clearly flustered, and Rosa rolls her eyes again. Wiping his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, Jake corrects himself, “No, I haven’t talked to y/n.”

Rosa leans her elbows forward on the desk. “I think we should call them in again. You know, see if there’s anything we can get out of them. Kind it seems like they’re the only lead we have.”

“You don’t still suspect them, do you?” Jake asks, eyebrows furrowing, and he lets out a sigh as Rosa shrugs. Shaking his head, Jake insists, “I really don’t think it’s them, Rosa.”

“Jake…” Rosa starts, shooting him a look, and Jake quickly waves his hand, brushing her off as he already knows what’s coming next.

“Alright, I’ll reach out to them, see if there’s anything more they can tell us.” Jake reluctantly says, and Rosa nods. Pointing back at the computer, Jake asks, “Does this mean I can stop watching these boring videos?”

“Fine.” Rosa grumbles, angling the laptop towards herself as Jake grins. He grabs his jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and he sneaks one last glance at the grainy video before darting out the room. He pauses, his eyes narrowing, and he points at the screen.

“Wait, what’s that?” Jake points at the corner of the video, where a figure rushes down the street. Rosa squints, and she pauses the video for Jake to get a better look. His eyes widen, and his expression pales slightly, and he asks, “What time was this footage from?”

“Five in the morning.” Rosa replies, checking the timestamp. Looking up at Jake, she asks, “Why? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Jake hurriedly remarks, and Rosa frowns. Before she can demand an answer from Jake, he’s already rushed out of the break room, swiftly exiting the bullpen as he dodges Terry on his way out.

It’s not nothing, but Jake knows he can’t tell Rosa that. Not when the figure in the video was wearing a distinctive denim jacket with planets stitched on the back.

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower

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capricorn-stark · 4 years

Text

Unexpected Encounters

pairing: dick grayson x reader, first encounter

warning: n/a

a/n: yeah I got nothing, pretty casual fic

part 2

Bludhaven was a city so miserable, it could give Gotham a run for its money any day of the week.

You would know - after having lived in Gotham for most your life, only to end up relocating to Bludhaven for your job, you could whole-heartedly say that Bludhaven made you long for your dark, perpetually rain-drenched city. The place was practically like Gotham’s Crime Alley - if Crime Alley had been expanded to a house an entire city of people.

One of the biggest differences between the two, however, was that there was no silent guardian preventing the crime rate from steadily crawling upwards with each passing hour, no Dark Knight in the form of some stranger dressed up in a bat costume to save his citizens from killer clowns and watered-down furries in penguin costumes. In Bludhaven, you would simply manage to survive on your own, or you would get mugged and end up at the bottom of its polluted harbor for some poor soul to find weeks later.

And that was simply how life was.

Granted, those kind of thoughts definitely were not offering you comfort as you walked down the streets of Bludhaven yourself, keys between your fingers and the feel of your gun concealed in your other hand as you kept carefully drifting beneath the lights of the dying streetlamps, cautious of directing any sort of attention to yourself. You had missed your bus home after working a bit too late, and you couldn’t exactly wait around for the next one to arrive in another two hours.

Luckily for you, you saw no real dangers tonight.

Maybe, for once, it would be a quiet trip home.

Naturally, you were immediately proven wrong.

You were a generally cautious person, as anyone who grew up in a city like Gotham had to be in order to survive there at all. You were careful of your surroundings, who you talked to, who you ran into, and where you walked. You were in no way stupid enough to go into a random alleyway because it just so happened to be a conveniently located “short-cut”. Ever.

You were smarter than that.

But you hadn’t noticed the presence of a man in a dark and worn hood trailing behind you for what, as far as you knew, could’ve been quite some time now, formerly concealed in the crowds you had walked through. He was only a few feet away from you now, his steps quickening ever so slightly when he noticed you catching sight of him in the window of a passing store. You remembered that you had seen that same man nearly five minutes prior a few blocks before.

That, as anyone could’ve guessed, was definitely not a good sign.

The crowds were thinning as you edged closer to your part of the city, fewer and fewer people lining the stores and alleys, with even fewer who looked like they would help you if you happened to need it. You couldn’t exactly dart into the nearest corner store and expect him to leave you alone, there was a much higher chance of him simply leaving your line of sight altogether and reappearing when you finally stepped outside. If you tried to book it, you were more than certain that a man that size could easily catch up.

The last option you had was a confrontation, but living in places like this for as long as you had, you were sure it could escalate immediately and leave you in a much, much worse situation. You had a gun, but you couldn’t gauge how effective it would be if he happened to have one himself, and this was Bludhaven.

Everyone had a gun.

So, all your options were bad. You felt your grip around your gun tighten anyways as you walked faster, cursing under your breath as you noticed him doing the same behind you. Your heart was racing now, breath quickening as you tried to tell yourself that you were almost home, that you just had one more block to go before-

“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you alright?”

You looked up at the source of the new voice that had gotten you to stop in your tracks and meet a pair of bright blue eyes. The man in front of you offered you a reassuring smile as he tapped the badge on his uniform.

Bludhaven Police Department.

“Someone bothering you?”

You turned your head to look back at where the man following you had been, only to feel a chill run down your spine as you realized he had disappeared into the shadows of the city, as if he hadn’t been there at all.

“I thought-” You cut yourself off, still staring at the people milling around left and right. “I thought there was someone-” He seemed to notice how shaken you were immediately, tearing his gaze away from the crowd and finally settling back to you, lips curving into another soft smile. Despite everything, it was strangely comforting to see.

“If it makes you feel better, I can walk you to your destination.” You couldn’t bring yourself to decline when your heart was still racing in your chest, so you managed a nod. The man pulled his jacket around him as he moved to fall into step alongside you after one last look into the crowds. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I am now,” you brushed off, wrapping your own jacket a little closer around your body as you made yourself fixate your gaze on the path ahead. Your fingers were hurting from the previous clutch of your keys. The gun had finally been fully tucked away. “Thanks, Detective-” You cut yourself off to get a closer look at his ID. “Grayson?”

“Richard,” he offered with another smile, glancing at you in turn. “Well, I go by Dick, but-” he caught sight of your expression and laughed, shaking his head. “Richard’s fine, too.” You felt your face burn red and you tried to clear your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s all good, I get it a lot. Can I ask for yours?” You chuckled a little before introducing yourself to him, shaking your head dismissively when he commented that it suited you.

“Am I making you leave your post or something?” Dick waved that off immediately, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Nah, I’m just patrolling this area tonight. I was about to head into the café down the street for some coffee when I saw you, and I thought you seemed a little alarmed.” His tone was even but kind, and it was easy for you to tell that he had been in this type of situation a million times before. “If you need anything, medical assistance, filing a report, I can take care of that.”

You nodded slightly again, taking another deep breath as you felt your panic finally subside. His presence was comforting, and you were glad he was with you for the rest of the walk home. You still couldn’t bring yourself to think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up.

You wouldn’t be missing the bus again any time soon, that was certain.

“I was just surprised,” you finally started, feeling a twinge of embarrassment creep up your face for no apparent reason. As if you were the one who should’ve been more careful. “I didn’t see him - I guess I wasn’t as careful as I thought I was.”

“Don’t think that’s on you, because it wasn’t your fault,” he started at once, apparently having been able to read your mind. “Creeps like that are running around all over this place, you can’t expect to see all of them coming. I’m just glad you’re alright.” You nodded again, pulling the jacket a little tighter before you sneaked another glance up at him.

You hadn’t exactly seen much of what he looked like beneath the dingy light of the streetlamps, but as you edged towards your apartment complex, you could finally see his face beneath the brighter lighting.

You noticed the striking blue eyes first, of course, accompanied by strong, defined features, jet black hair, and a surprising look of youthfulness despite the fact that he had sounded like he’d be a bit older. The light crinkles by his eyes told you he was the kind of person who tended to smile a lot.

Clearly, he was very, very handsome.

“I’m actually pretty new to this whole gig,” he commented as he scanned around the street you were on, snapping you out of your not-so subtle staring. “Moved from Gotham a few months ago, found a job with the BDP. They definitely appreciated having new hires around, with the state this city’s in.”

“So did I,” you blurted out in surprise, causing him to raise a brow at you. “Not working with the BDP - but I moved here a few months ago, too, from Gotham. I lived there my whole life.”

“Well, look at that,” he laughed, seeming rather incredulous but certainly pleased at the finding. “I guess we have that in common. Some move, huh, thinking Gotham’s about as bad it gets before getting smacked with Bludhaven?” You actually laughed at that in turn, nodding in agreement.

“No super-people flying around to save the place, either. Tragic.”

“I’m sure one’s gonna show up around here eventually,” he dismissed, following you when you motioned towards your building in the distance. “If there’s any place that needs some of them around, it’s here.”

“As what, Bludhaven’s version of Batman?” you deadpanned, imagining what things would be like if another man in a bat costume started running around and beating up street-thugs. At least the crime rates might dip. “As long as he doesn’t come with more psychotic clowns, I guess we could use one. Even if that means changing my insurance plan to fit him in.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Dick agreed, corners of his lips twitching into another almost mischievous grin that caused your face to redden in the dark. “Doesn’t have to be another Batman, maybe it’ll be someone new.”

“As long as they take care of the city, I think I won’t care who it is,” you decided with another light chuckle, stopping in front of your building and looking up at him. “I just hope they’ll be cut out for the job.” He stopped in front of you with another smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?” You found yourself mirroring the action, feeling rather amused by the statement.

“I guess we will.”

The brief moment of silence between you was interrupted by him clearing his throat, moving to grab the handle of the door for you at the same time you tried to do it yourself, ending with the both of you promptly colliding apologizing profusely while backing away from the door altogether.

“Sorry, I didn’t - sorry-” he cut himself off by reaching out to pull the door open for you again with an awkward laugh, not unlike your own. “I hope I’ll see you around here on a better note,” Dick finalized with one last apologetic grin, letting you slip past him and into the building.

“You mean when I’m not speed-walking away from creeps running around Bludhaven?” you chuckled in response, shouldering your bag off-handedly. “Definitely, I agree. Thank you, Dick.”

He made a show of dramatically tipping his hat towards you before turning on his heel, still smiling to himself.

“Pleasure’s mine.”

#pandemonium scrawl #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc #dc comics #dc multiverse #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing #nightwing x you #dc imagine #batfam imagine #fanfic #reader insert #reader imagine #gender neutral reader

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thesoulspulse · 3 years

Text

Reconcile (Good Vlad AU ~ Oneshot)

It happened in early winter, that's all he could tell because of the first signs of snowfall outside of the window next to his bed at the hospital. Vlad had been there for, what, a month or so? Kept in isolation from everyone apart from a couple of doctors and nurses. Honestly, it was entirely possible Vlad had been there for longer for all he knew since every day blurred into the next after the accident.

Vlad couldn't feel it though, the cold, because these days his skin always felt either unnaturally chilly or feverishly hot to the touch. The only constant Vlad could feel was pain. The morphine helped ease that pain a little bit, but all that was left to feel after that was this cold numbness. And since the doctors thought he had been exposed to radiation of some kind -which to be fair they weren't wrong- no one has been allowed to see him after he was admitted there.

But still, Vlad had hoped his friends would come see him eventually. And more importantly, he wanted the chance to give Jack a piece of his mind! That...that traitor knew the portal experiment was unstable and potentially dangerous and yet he still pressed the-

“Excuse me, are you awake Mr. Masters? You have a visitor,” a nurse called after knocking on the door and poking her head inside.

At first Vlad was happy that he had a visitor, hoping it would be Maddie so he could get these feelings off his chest about how angry he was at Jack...but as soon as he saw the large silhouette waiting outside the door he knew there was only one person that would have come here to see him who had such a wide girth. It was Jack. But he wasn't ready to see him, not yet, not when all Vlad could think about is how his best friend had almost killed him...

Turning his head away Vlad finally muttered, “Sorry, I'm not feeling well. Please tell them to come back lat-ER!”

Vlad grunted the last word of that sentence as Jack burst into the room, tears rolling down his cheeks as the man called him by that ridiculous nickname of Vladdy he insists on using. Normally Vlad could shrug it off, but right now the nickname felt insulting somehow as if Jack was making light of what happened the last time they saw each other. Either way it's a good thing Maddie actually was there and managed to help the nurse pry him off, reminding Jack that Vlad's in the hospital as a patient so giving him a bear hug wasn't the best idea.

Regardless, Jack looked at Vlad's bandaged face and sobbed, “I'm so sorry V-man. We tried to come sooner but they wouldn't let us in! We were so worried about you!”

Nodding, Maddie put a supportive hand on Jack's shoulder and continued awkwardly. “He's right, as soon as we recovered from the shock of what had happened to you we immediately went looking for you but you had already collapsed somewhere. Jack was heartbroken and didn't understand what went wrong with the portal. I tried to find out too but it was no use, whatever happened fried the wiring and-”

Cutting herself off as soon as she realized she was going off on a tangent when their friend's well-being was much more important, Maddie dropped her hand from Jack's shoulder and asked with a sad smile, “How're you feeling? Have they been taking good care of you? I tried to explain your condition to the doctor but...they didn't believe me about it being related to ectoplasmic energy.”

“Why would they? As far as they're concerned ghosts don't exist,” Vlad replied with a guarded expression, unwilling to admit he tried to do the exact same thing only for his arguments to be thoroughly dismissed since he's not a doctor. “As for the rest they're...doing the best they can I suppose.”

An awkward silence filled the room since none of them knew what to say after that, but then, Jack spoke up and said, “Vladdy? Um, I know it's a bit squished but I made this for you. It's...my way of saying sorry for everything. I should have listened to you and Mads when you told me to stop.”

Reaching into one of the many pockets of his jumpsuit which according to Jack was handed down to him by his grandfather and designed after an outfit one of his ghost-hunting ancestors wore, he handed Vlad what appeared to be a misshapen block of homemade fudge. The gesture might not have seemed like a big deal to anyone else, but for Jack who absolutely loved the stuff and couldn't help himself from eating almost all of it himself in one sitting whenever he made or bought it, however, the fact that Jack was sharing an entire serving of it just for Vlad really was his way of showing his sincerity. Similarly, Maddie reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of her ghost folklore books for him to read since she figured Vlad must have been bored laying in bed all day.

Vlad was at a loss for words because he had almost given up hope that they'd ever come visit him, hope that Jack would own up to his mistakes for once and apologize. But since he did, Vlad couldn't stay mad. He wanted to, but couldn't, not since this forgetful yet earnest man had gone out of his way to finally come see him. The same goes for Maddie, Vlad was sure she felt guilty too for not stopping Jack in time since she's always been the more careful of the two when it comes to their experiments...

Accepting their gifts but resisting the urge to wipe the tears from his eyes since his face still hurt, Vlad held them in his lap and sniffled, “Thank you. Thank you both for coming. I...was afraid you had abandoned me.”

“Come on V-man, give me a little credit,” Jack smiled, gently punching Vlad's shoulder. “You're my best friend! I know I can be careless and stupid sometimes, but friends have to stick together through thick and thin don't they? We'll get through this together and then maybe we can try again with the ghost portal. We were so close!”

Grimacing at the thought of going anywhere near that portal again, Vlad was relieved when Maddie interjected and said, “Jack, don't forget that it's our fault this happened so before any of that we need to make sure Vlad's going to be ok. We don't know what that portal did to him and the doctors are only going to be able to help him so much. The best thing we can do for him is go back to square one and find out what we did wrong so it doesn't happen again.”

“Shoot, you're right. I'm sorry,” Jack apologized, looking dejected. “Don't worry Vladdy, I'll make this all up to you I promise! And we'll visit more too!”

Smiling weakly more because it hurt to move his face too much, Vlad nodded, “I'd like that.”

Soon after that, before Maddie could comment on anything else the nurse shooed them out so they could get Vlad ready for his next check up. But as soon as he was alone again Vlad reached over to set the fudge and books on the desk next to him when they unexpectedly slipped through his fingers. Blinking in confusion but brushing it off as clumsiness, he sighed and swung his feet over the bed so he could bend down to pick them up again. This time though, when he reached for them again they didn't just slip through his fingers as a figure of speech...they LITERALLY passed through them! Alarmed Vlad recoiled from both objects, his heart racing when he mustered the courage to look at his hands only to find they were translucent.

Realizing his sudden spike in heart activity would alert the hospital staff Vlad concentrated as hard as he could to restore his fingers to a solid state again. It took some effort but thankfully he managed to pull it off. It was in that moment though that Vlad realized, for better or worse, his relationship with Jack and Maddie would never be the same again...

And neither would he.

Note: I normally don’t write fully-fledged story content on tumblr apart from headcanon ideas or sharing updates about new chapters for my fanfics, but since I had started this oneshot before my Good Vlad AU started to really kick off and wasn’t that far along I adapted it into a special oneshot about Jack and Maddie coming to see Vlad at the hospital after the accident. I always wondered why they never did and usually assumed Vlad turned them away himself (mostly Jack) along with the doctors and his friends eventually move on and kind of forgot about him for all those years.

Either way, I wanted to see what could have happened if they managed to fix things with Vlad sooner while still on somewhat good terms before that sense of abandonment and resentment for Jack could take root in Vlad’s heart. Hopefully that comes across here in this little story snippet! I might post this on my actual fanfiction account later but for now, it’s here for you guys especially!

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

#peter parker field trip #irondad #ironfam #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes #domestic avengers

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sickficsforthesoul · 3 years

Note

I’ve got a nice little prompt for you! (Actually two but I’ll put them in two separate asks).

This one is a character who may be out of your comfort zone but how about a sick Kuroo who has been sick for a while with what he thinks is something pretty mild so he takes a few days off but even though he’s not getting better he feels guilty about missing so much practice since he’s captain.

But then things go downhill and he gets a lot worse really fast.

Excited to see the things that come out of this blog!!

-Lu

Here's a surprise fic for you. I'm moving into my college dorm Sunday, so I'm writing as much as I can before then to make up for that and not posting much this week.

I hope I did Kuroo justice in this, so enjoy!

Captain Cat's Conundrum

Sick Kuroo and caretakers Kai and Yaku with a bit of Kenma for good measure

Word count: 2185 words

Tetsurou had a cold. He was curled up under heavy blankets in his bed, coughing, shivering, and aching for the past three days. Tetsurou had already missed the past three days of school and practice because his mother insisted that he rest and recover at home. Tetsurou knew she was right, and he also knew that going to school would spread his germs to other students. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over missing so much practice. Yaku and Kai had brought his schoolwork along with updating him on the team’s progress, but Tetsurou wasn’t satisfied. He was the team captain! He should be at practice with his team, not sitting in bed with a little cold.

So Tetsurou had snuck out the next morning, creeping out of the house with his school supplies and volleyball bag before his mother came to check on him. His mother would kill him when he got home, but Tetsurou would deal with that later. Tetsurou jogged to school to avoid being late for morning practice. He stopped at the gym doors to catch his breath, coughing lightly to clear mucus from his throat. Once his throat was cleared, Tetsurou entered the gym with his usual grin.

“Hey guys,” Tetsurou called to his teammates.

“Kuroo!” Lev and Shibayama shouted happily.

“Took you long enough, Roosterhead,” Yaku teased while walking over to Tetsurou. “Any longer, and I was going to make myself captain instead.”

“Liberoes can’t be captains, Yaku,” Kai chided from the bench. “How are you, Kuroo? Are you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” Tetsurou grinned, “my mom was just overreacting. You know how she is.”

“That’s true,” Kenma said quietly from behind Tetsurou.

“Gah!” Tetsurou jumped at his best friend’s sudden appearance. “Don’t do that to me, Kenma,” Tetsurou coughed. “I’m an old man. My heart can only take so much shock, you know!”

“You’re not that old,” Kenma muttered as he pushed past Tetsurou to enter the gym.

Kai looked at Tetsurou with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? That cough didn’t sound good.”

“I’m fine,” Tetsurou reassured his friend. “The cough will go away on its own. Haven’t you ever had a cough after you had a cold for a while?”

“I suppose I have,” Kai said, but his face was still doubtful. “You’ll tell us if you start feeling sick, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’m not that dumb,” Tetsurou scoffed.

“I sure hope you’re not,” Yaku eyed Tetsurou suspiciously. “If you don’t tell us, I’ll kick your ass for lying to us.”

“So violent, Yakkun!” Tetsurou sighed dramatically. “This is why you’re the demon senpai. Even the devil himself is scared of you.”

Yaku launched himself at Tetsurou with a shriek of fury. Tetsurou laughed and dodged Yaku’s attack, but the libero didn’t give up, opting to chase Tetsurou around the gym instead. Kai awkwardly watched the duo for a few minutes before joining in the chase too to catch the troublesome third years (“Wait, guys! We have practice right now. You can’t just goof off the entire time! You’re setting a bad example for the others!”).

Tetsurou made it through morning practice and the first half of the day with no issue, but by lunch, certain problems were beginning to emerge. The first was Tetsurou’s ever-growing headache. It pounded in his temples throughout lunch, distracting him from his friends and food. The second was his cough. It was stronger than that morning, and Tetsurou was struggling to hide his coughing fits from the watchful eyes of Kai and Yaku. The final problem was the terribly uncomfortable combination of chills and aches wracking his body. Tetsurou’s muscles ached as his body shivered despite the fairly warm air around him.

Tetsurou stumbled through his afternoon classes, feigning attention to hide how sick he was feeling. Thankfully, Yaku and Kai weren’t in his afternoon classes to witness Tetsurou’s pitiful acting because Tetsurou was sure they would have dragged him home on the spot. But Tetsurou can’t let that happen. He has practice after school, and he was determined to make up for all that he’d missed in the past few days.

When classes finally end, Tetsurou walked leisurely to the gym for practice. He somehow was the first to arrive, so he began an easy warm-up. By the time he was finished, everyone else was in the gym warming up too. Tetsurou also felt slightly better, the ache in his muscles dulled by the adrenaline now in his system. The cough and headache still proved to be a problem, but Tetsurou had become much better at ignoring the headache and swallowing back coughs before they could escape. Even so, Yaku and Kai stared at him for a minute, both his friends suspicious of Tetsurou’s health. They only stopped when Coach Naoi fussed at them to warm up instead of standing around.

The rest of practice followed a similar pattern. No matter what Tetsurou was doing, Kai and Yaku were never far away, always watching for any cracks in their captain’s façade of good health. By the end of practice, Kai and Yaku were starting to think that they might have overreacted at morning practice. Tetsurou looked mostly fine all practice. Maybe his cheeks were a little flushed or his breathing a bit heavy, but that could easily be attributed to the amount of exercise he was doing.

Coach Nekomata was unusually spartan with his training throughout practice. So far, the team had done sprints, flying falls, receiving drills, and blocking drills all in the span of an hour and a half, so most of the team looked just as disheveled as Tetsurou by the end of practice. Coach Nekomata dismissed them a few minutes ago, but the third years and Kenma remained in the gym with the coaches. The third years were supposed to help clean up, and Kenma stayed because he always walked home with Tetsurou.

With everyone else gone, the coaches went to Nekomata’s office to get their things while the third years cleaned. Kai and Yaku got to work immediately, but Tetsurou lagged behind his friends. The adrenaline in his system was fading, and the aches and chills returned with a vengeance as Tetsurou’s head continued to throb. His lungs twinged uncomfortably, a cough building in his throat. Tetsurou tried to stifle it, but his body was done obeying him. Instead, a loud hacking cough escaped Tetsurou’s throat and echoed through the mostly empty gym.

Kai and Yaku whipped around to face their captain, shocked by the nasty cough, but Tetsurou wasn’t done. His abused lungs were tired of holding back, and his body spasmed with pain. Another cough tore out of Tetsurou’s throat, and then another. Coughs wracked Tetsurou’s shivering frame, and the boy fell to his knees as the coughing fit deprived his lungs of much-needed oxygen. Tetsurou’s head spun, his eyes foggy and unable to focus on anything.

Coughs continued to come. Tetsurou’s body was screaming for oxygen, but his lungs couldn’t calm down enough to let any air through. Tetsurou wheezed miserably, body shaking with strain and exhaustion. What the hell was happening? Tetsurou was fine that morning (well, maybe not that fine, but not this bad either), so how did he deteriorate so quickly? Tetsurou’s racing thoughts did nothing to ease the headache, and Tetsurou was sure that if he didn’t stop coughing soon, he might end up passed out on the gym floor.

Someone rubbed his back. Tetsurou lifted his heavy head to see Yaku carefully but firmly rubbing his back. The pressure helped Tetsurou focus and relax, causing his breathing speed to decrease and his coughs to lessen. Another hand came to rest on Tetsurou’s forehead (Kai’s, Tetsurou assumed), most likely taking his temperature. Tetsurou also saw Kenma walking toward him, holding Tetsurou’s water bottle. Kenma offered him the bottle, and Tetsurou took a small sip, hands still shaky and unsure. After a few sips, Yaku and Kai manhandled Tetsurou until he was sitting on his backside instead of his knees. Yaku and Kai looked at him sternly, and Tetsurou knew he was in very big trouble.

Surprisingly, Kai was the first one to speak. “Kuroo, why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

“I was feeling b-better during practice, so I d-didn’t think it was t-that bad,” Tetsurou muttered, his words broken up by coughs.

Yaku raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Roosterhead? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

“...Yes…?” Tetsurou said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer, even to his own ears.

“...You can tell us, Kuroo. We’re still your friends, even when you’re acting stupid.” Kenma leveled Tetsurou with a flat but stern gaze, and Tetsurou knew he had no choice but to explain.

“I feel bad, okay?!” Tetsurou snapped. “I’ve already missed three days of practice for a stupid cold, and I can’t miss any more practice, or I’ll get behind!”

“You can be such an idiot sometimes, Kuroo,” Yaku sighed, eyes oddly soft. “You’re allowed to miss practice when you’re sick. We know you wouldn’t skip practice, and no one wants your nasty germs in the gym anyway.”

“Yes, Kuroo,” Kai chimed in gently. “Our coaches aren’t so terrible that they’d make you practice while sick.”

“I know that,” Tetsurou sighed, “but it’s different for me. I’ve already missed too much, and I can’t stand missing any more practice!”

Kenma tilted his head lazily. “Why’s it different for you, Kuroo?” Kenma asked calmly.

“Because I’m the captain!” Tetsurou exclaimed, coughing as air caught in his lungs. “I can’t afford to slack off. I have to set a good example. I have to…” Tetsurou was crying at that point, exhaustion amplifying his emotions to an extreme level.

“Kuroo…” Kai whispered as he wrapped a sobbing Tetsurou in a delicate hug. “You are setting a good example. You’re a wonderful captain, and everyone on the team knows it.”

Yaku snuck into the hug too, squeezing Tetsurou with his warm, comforting arms. “Kai’s right, Kuroo. You’re a good captain. You know I’d kick your ass if you weren’t right?”

“Yes,” Tetsurou mumbled through more tears.

“And since I haven’t kicked your ass, do you know what that means?” Yaku pressed as Tetsurou’s sobs become quiet.

“That I’m a good captain?” Tetsurou asked, voice rough from tears and coughs.

“Exactly,” Yaku smiled warmly. “You’re a very good captain, Kuroo, but do you know what else you are?”

“...An idiot?” Tetsurou guessed, reaching up to wipe away any remaining tears.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Got it in one. Now let’s get you home. I don’t think you have a cold anymore. Kai?”

“It seems more like the flu to me. That fever is far too high to be just a cold,” Kai agreed, helping Yaku pull Testurou off the gym floor. “What do you think, Kenma?”

“Flu, probably. His symptoms match pretty well,” Kenma answered, stepping back to give Kai and Yaku room to work. “He could have had a cold earlier and picked up a flu virus on top of that.”

“Man, Kuroo, your luck sucks!” Yaku snickered as he supported Tetsurou. “You’re lucky you didn’t pass out. Coach Naoi would have freaked out if he had to call an ambulance for you.”

“You’re so mean, Yaku,” Tetsurou whined with as much energy as he could muster. “No wonder Lev is so scared of you, you snarky little devil!”

“I’m not little!” Yaku huffed but continued to support Tetsurou to the door.

“You two are too much sometimes,” Kai sighed at their antics. “Kenma, can you show us where Kuroo lives?”

“Yeah. Follow me,” Kenma agreed easily. “Hey Kuroo, you know I’m gonna tell your mom everything, right?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened in horror. “Kenma, you can’t! She’ll never let me live this down! Please don’t tell her. I’m begging you!”

Kenma giggled at Tetsurou’s uncharacteristic behavior. “But if I don’t tell her, then she’ll fuss at me. I don’t like to be fussed at, Kuroo.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Tetsurou begged. “Just don’t tell my mom!”

Kenma’s face twisted into a mirthful smirk. “Okay. We’ll have a Super Smash Bros. tournament as soon as you get better.”

Tetsurou’s face fell instantly. “Smash Bros? But I suck at that game!”

“I know,” Kenma nodded sagely. “Kai, Yaku, you guys can come too if you want.”

“Sounds good, Kenma. Let us know when you pick a date and time,” Kai smiled at the setter. Yaku snickered and nodded in agreement.

Tetsurou groaned inwardly. These people were really his friends, huh? But they were taking him home after he got sick, Tetsurou reasoned. They were also helping him walk, and Tetsurou had no doubt that they wouldn’t leave his house until they had him feed, in bed, and drugged up on flu medicine. They were kind and caring when they wanted to be, and Tetsurou appreciated all they were doing for him right now. Maybe his friends weren’t so bad after all.

(No, scratch that. They were making fun of him for maining Kirby in Smash now. They were definitely assholes.)

#sickiesoul writes #sickfic #fever #coughing #influenza #cold #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #yaku morisuke #kai nobuyuki #haikyu!! whump #haikyu whump #haikyuu whump #haikyuu!!#anime whump

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teamhook · 3 years

Text

Finding Hope :: August Rush Birthday Fic

A new chapter for the birthday fic for my favorite dork @hookedonapirate cause I love her to death.

Thanks to my beta @ultraluckycatnd she is the best!!

FFN

AO3

Killian has never been this nervous in his life. Not even when he used to perform in front of a crowd. His mind keeps taking him to the worst possible scenario. She is married with children. There's no way someone as bloody amazing as her is still single.

He finally arrives at the Estate. As he works up his nerve to knock on the door, he is met with an older man in a suit leaving.

"Excuse me, Sir, I'm looking for Emma Nolan," Killian said to the man.

The man annoyingly looks Killian up and down with a reptilian gleam in his eyes. "I'm not her butler, dearie. She is not here, she is out looking for her brat."

"I'm sorry for bothering you." Killian walks away, dejected.

After hanging up with Emma, Elsa asks around their old teachers and finds out they have been trying to find someone to do a solo performance at the upcoming event at the park.

Elsa quickly volunteered her friend. The Concert at Central Park, she couldn't believe it. For some time now, Elsa has tried convincing her friend to play professionally.

“Emma, when are you going to allow yourself to be happy again?”

“I am very happy. Thank you very much,” Emma answers.

“You know what I mean, but to clarify, I'm talking about when everyone else goes home. You're a music teacher who doesn't play music anymore.”

“I’ll think about it. Okay?”

This is the push Emma needs and besides, she did call her.

After placing posters of Hope all over the park and nearby street corners, Merlin passes out fliers with the young girl's picture and inquires if anyone has seen her. He only gets people shaking their heads no as they walk by.

Merlin notices a skinny man with shaggy hair walking with a boy roughly around Hope's age and decides to approach them. "Excuse me, I was wondering if you or your son had seen this girl?"

The man looks at the flier and dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

Merlin studies the man's movements. There's something wicked about the man and sets off alarms in his head. He doesn't like the fact there is a young boy around that type of person.

As they walk away, Henry turns to Walsh. "Was that a picture of Hope?" the boy asks.

"Mind your business, you didn't see anything, okay? If you want to stay on my good side, that is," Walsh threatens the boy.

Henry knows what the words mean. Walsh will send him away and he won't have a place to sleep or food, so he nods his agreement. They walk further away in silence. The closer they get back to the theater, the thought of keeping a secret from Hope kills him. What if she can be with her family?

Walsh and Henry failed to notice Merlin had followed them at a discreet distance. He sees them go inside the theatre. Merlin makes a quick call to the police with his concerns.

Merlin looks down at his watch and returns to the park to check on Emma's progress.

A few hours later, the derelict theatre is raided by the police. The police managed to capture most of the kids, but Walsh manages to escape. Henry and Hope evade the police together, finding refuge in a church.

Hope and Henry find an empty pew to sit on in the back of the overfilled church. Hope’s ears perk up when the choir begins singing. Henry puts a protective arm around her as they listen to the music.

Hope rests her head on her friend's shoulder. She wonders what they would do now. There had been so many cops and she knew if they had caught her, they would return her to her foster home. But she was on a mission to find her parents and no one was going to stop her from finding them.

The music stops and Henry nudges her to stand up. They have to find somewhere to sleep and some food would be nice. "Hope, come on, let's go. We need to go find shelter for the night. I don't think the theatre is safe anymore."

Hope nods. "Do you think anyone else got out in time?"

"I don't know. There were so many cops and everyone scattered. Maybe?"

As the kids were leaving the church, a man wearing some sort of gown blocked their exit before they could make their escape. "Hello, children," He says with a warm smile.

Hope and Henry share a look.

"It was a beautiful practice. We have a talented choir. I'm so sorry, I have failed to introduce myself. My name is Father Hopper."

"Hello," Hope says.

Henry looks between them. "I'm Henry, Hope's brother."

Father Hopper nods. "Your parents must be worried sick. I can escort you both."

"Oh, that's not necessary. They are probably outside waiting for us," Henry says quickly as he extends his hand for Hope to take.

Hope grins as she reaches for Henry's hand.

Father Hopper steps aside hesitantly.

The kids try to make a quick escape.

"I know you both came in alone. I know there are no parents."

Henry and Hope stiffen and are about to run out of there.

"Please, don't go. You are safe here. We can offer you sanctuary. At least for the night. Mother Superior has an empty cell we could offer you."

Hope pulls on Henry's hand.

"Follow me and I will escort you to her. Mother Superior will take you to your cell, but perhaps a snack before bedtime?"

At the mention of food, the kids' stomachs growl at the same time.

They follow him through some long halls. He knocks on a door and a petite woman opens the door.

"Father Hopper, what can I do for you?" the woman says with a smile.

"Mother Superior, I found these kids, and they are hungry and in need of a place to sleep."

"Oh, hello children. You can call me Blue."

"Like the color?" Hope asks.

"Yes, like the color. And what should I call you?"

"My name is Hope and this is my brother Henry," Hope answers.

"Okay, follow me to the kitchen so we can get you something to eat," Blue says with a small smile on her lips.

Once in the kitchen, Mother Superior, or Blue as she prefers to be called, makes them some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with two big glasses of milk. She doesn’t say a word, just observes them, and the children are happy for the quiet.

The kids eat the sandwiches hungrily. Once they finish, she takes them to the room they will be sharing.

“Goodnight, children,” Blue says as she closes the door.

Once the door clicks, Henry turns to Hope. “We have to be out of here before they come to check on us. If we wait any longer, they will call the cops.”

“Okay, we wake up early and make a run for it,” Hope says in agreement. She was happy she was no longer alone. She wished Henry was really her brother.

After sleeping a few hours, Hope wakes up. She squeezes her eyes shut trying to fall asleep for a little longer, but the music is calling her. She pushes the blanket off and quietly leaves the room to make sure she doesn’t wake up Henry.

She walks the halls as quiet as a mouse. It doesn’t take her long to end up in front of a big piano. She slowly approaches it and caresses the keys.

“Do you play?” a voice from behind asks.

Hope slowly turns around to face Blue and shakes her head no.

“Do you want to try it?” Blue asks.

“Yes,” Hope says without hesitation.

Blue grabs the sheet music to find something easy to play, but is startled as Hope plays a sweet melody that warms her heart.

Once Hope finishes playing her inner song, she turns to Blue with a shy smile.

“Well, darling. Aren’t you full of surprises? I thought you said you didn’t know how to play?” Blue says teasingly.

“I don’t. I’ve never played the piano. I had a flute once, and played the violin. In school, I wanted to play on the piano, but I haven’t seen anything as big and beautiful as this.”

Blue nods. “Hope, this is an organ.”

“This is an organ? I thought an organ was inside of us?” Hope says, scrunching her face.

“Well, yes that too, but this is a church organ,” Blue answers. “Where did you learn that song?”

Hope shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hear it all the time.”

Blue nods and hands Hope the sheet music. “Can you play anything from this?”

Hope grabs the sheet and looks through the book. Without knowing, she picks the hardest song to play. After finishing playing, Hope turns to Blue. “Was that okay?”

“Hope, that was perfect. You are very talented. I believe you are what’s called a prodigy.” Blue sighs. “We know you and Henry are alone. Hope, the safest place for both of you is with Child Protective Services.”

Hope shakes her head. “ I don't wanna be sent away. We don’t want to go. You don’t understand, I just want to find my parents! I know they're out there somewhere. The music is what I hold on to. And I can't let go. Somewhere inside me, I know that the music in my heart came from them, and I know they always wanted me. Maybe they just got lost, but my song will help me find them.”

“I understand. I truly do but being on your own, there are bad people out there. My job is to make sure that you are safe. Both you and Henry.”

Hope shakes her head defiantly. “If you send us back, we will only run away again.”

“There is something I can do to help you. There’s this wonderful school where they would welcome you. You could play your beautiful song for them.”

“What about Henry? Can he come too?” Hope asks.

“I’m sorry Hope, but I don’t think so,” Blue answers sincerely.

The boy in question appears. “It’s okay, Hope. You should go. Maybe this will help you find your parents,” Henry says with a sad smile.

Hope runs to him and hugs him tightly. “When I find my parents, I will ask them to help me find you.”

Blue clears her throat. “Let me make some calls.”

Once Blue is gone, Henry speaks up. “I’m sorry, Hope, but I have to go now.”

Hope nods. “I will find you, and we will be a family.”

Emma makes two very important calls. One to Merlin for any updates and the other to Elsa.

“Mr. Wilde, I understand. Your department's doing everything they can. Please keep me posted.”

As soon as Elsa answers, she tells Emma the news about The New York Philharmonic.

“Emma, I know it’s just for one night, but they want you back.” Elsa waited for her friend to freak out, but got the opposite reaction.

“Elsa, I know the perfect piece. Maybe she can hear it. You know she has Killian’s beautiful blue eyes. She is so perfect and I really want to find her. I used to swear I could hear her all this time. I know she was trying to reach out to me," Emma says, crying.

Elsa sighs. “I know you will find your little girl.”

Taglist:

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marvelousstevetony · 4 years

Note

So this is kind of a random prompt, but sick Steve doing an interview and trying not to sneeze. However, he ends up having a fit and is really embarrassed by it, maybe his first public sneeze like that?

When he gets home, Tony tries to take Steve’s phone because he doesn’t want Steve to see the new trending hashtag on Twitter which is “GodBlessAmerica” and some people trying to be funny about it, maybe posting the video with patriotic music edited in. Maybe Steve does find out and Tony shows Steve a sneeze compilation of himself online or something that people did relating to Tony’s sneeze to help him feel less embarrassed/make him laugh?

This is such a sweet concept! And nothing like anything I’ve written before, I don’t think, so I hope this is okay. Please accept 4k of shy, sick Steve and Tony being the sweetest... as usual :)

Steve presses his knuckle to his nose for the 100th time today. The cold he had caught a few days ago seems to have hit its peak, because ever since he woke up this morning, his nose has had that warm, buzzing feeling to it that just never fades.

“You ready, Steve?” Tony asks and puts a steadying hand on the small of the taller man’s back.

“Y-yeah,” Steve manages and sniffles when his nose quivers. “Ready to get it over with,” he amends and Tony offers him a sympathetic smile.

“Last one for today.”

Steve nods and sighs deeply. “Last one,” he echoes

———

Steve wants to pay attention, he really does. Tony is speaking, and Steve loves listening to his boyfriend’s voice, even if all he’s doing is making quips and witty remarks at the interviewers’ questions. Okay, especially when he’s making quips and witty remarks at the interviewers’ questions.

But he just doesn’t have the energy today. He feels his eyes threatening to slip shut at any minute, and he probably would have drifted off at some point if it wasn’t for the slight tingle in the back of his nose.

He swipes his index finger against his septum, then holds it there when he’s afraid the tickle will blossom into something more. It doesn’t though, and instead he exhales slowly and gives his head a brief shake.

It happens another three times. The tickle is right on the verge of turning into sneezes, but Steve is famously stubborn, and by the power of sheer will and all the focus he can muster, he fights it off.

That is until he is startled by someone nudging his shoulder. “Steve.”

His head snaps up to see Natasha cocking her head at him. He looks around, confused, then smiles sheepishly when he notices a blonde reporter who’s looking at him with an expectant expression. “Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat, cheeks turning pink, “Could you repeat that?”

She smiles overly sweetly at him, and Steve tries not to think about how much he hates these things, hates how arranged and phony they are.

“Of course. Captain, you’ve been the leader of the Avengers since its origin...”

The blonde woman continues speaking, but Steve just hears her voice trail off into silence. He keeps his eyes on her, though, for as long as he can before his vision begins to blur as well. He clenches his jaw and holds his breath, trying to resist the urge to rub at his nose to stop the building itch from blooming.

He can see her lips moving through the tears that are accumulating in his eyes, but he hears nothing but white noise and then his own sudden, desperate gasp.

In the very last second, he manages to bring his fist to his face and move a little back in his seat to turn away from the crowd.

“ng’tCHh! h-H’tsngshh!”

The first sneeze is almost completely silent, but stifling it just sends a throb through his nose, and although he tries his hardest he can’t fully hold back the second one.

When he turns back, everyone has gone silent. A few people, including Natasha who’s next to him, as well as the reporter, bless him, and he feels the heat creep up his neck.

“Sorry, uh, excuse me,” he says and touches his nose gingerly, then rubs his neck. “You were saying?”

“Right,” the blonde continues. “As the leader of the Avengers, do you feel more responsible—“

“huh’TCHushh! uhhCHUSH!” A second round of sneezes catches him off guard, and he barely gets a chance to catch them in the crook of his elbow, body jerking with the sneezes.

Next to him, Natasha squeezes his knee and whispers a blessing that Steve ignores as he quickly turns back to the reporter, acting as if nothing had happened. The flush spreading all over his face from embarrassment didn’t signal the same thing, though.

The reporter smiles tightly before continuing. “—do you feel more responsible for all the damage your team has caused?”

“The purpose of the Avengers is to make the world a safer place. With our job, we try to save as many lives as possible. Unfortunately— snf! Unfortunately, that doesn’t m-mean everybody,” Steve says and touches his nose quickly when he feels a slight tickle beginning to form. “I strongly believe that without the Avengers’ interference the number of casualties would have been significantly higher—“

“What our good Captain here means to say is that without us, you’d all be toast,” Tony suddenly cuts in, earning laughter from the audience and flashes the crowd of reporters a blinding smile. Then, while the chuckles die down, Tony glances quickly over at Steve and smiles again, but it’s softer and way more real. “Okay, next question,” Tony says, turning back to the reporters.

Steve can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when the next question is directed to Natasha, happy that the attention is on anyone but him.

He ducks his head to rub his nose against his knuckles and give a few quiet coughs. When he looks back up, he catches Tony looking at him with a concerned expression, cocking his head to the side.

You okay? he reads Tony’s lips. He nods weakly and smiles shyly back. He then averts his gaze from Tony, knowing that if there’s one thing that could distract him from keeping himself together, it would be Tony.

The rest of the press conference is a blur, really. Steve avoids answering anymore questions thanks to Tony and Natasha quickly taking over whenever he was supposed to answer. Instead, he sits back in his chair, pinching off a tickle every once in a while.

When Steve walks off the stage, Tony is waiting for him by the door, placing a hand on the small of Steve’s back when they walk through. “You alright?” he asks quietly.

Steve is about to nod, open his mouth a say that he is, but he ends up sighing instead. “I don’t know... I made a complete fool out of myself out there,” he says and bites his lip nervously.

“No you didn’t. No one’s going to think anything of it, Steve,” Tony reassures and kisses Steve’s shoulder when Steve looks dubiously at him. “C’mon, let’s grab something to eat and then head home. There’s this diner a couple of blocks away. It’s small, but there’s a table seated away from all the rest. We can sit in private...”

“Sounds perfect.”

———

Like Tony said, the diner is small, but it’s cosy and warm and Steve welcomes anything that makes him feel less like he’s turning into a human popsicle again. Steve scoots into the small booth, and Tony sits on the opposite side of the table.

It’s Tony who orders, a sandwich for each of them and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for Steve as well.

“Soup too?” Steve asks, his voice grateful and eyes soft.

“Sick person essential,” Tony shrugs and reaches over the table to grab both of Steve’s hands in his own, brushing a thumb over Steve’s knuckles. “Bless you?” he asks when Steve lets go with one hand and opts for few napkins from the box on the table.

Steve nods, eyes fluttering shut, and pulls his other hand away as well to cup the napkin firmly over his nose and mouth.

“heh’CHmmphh! utschmphh!” The sound of the sneezes is muffled by the napkins, but the way Steve’s body shudders is indication of just how strong they were and how tired he must be.

“Bless you, honey,” Tony says again. “You look about ready to drop. I’ll text Happy, tell him to pick us up here in 30,” he adds when Steve shrugs shyly.

He pulls his phone out, but something in his expression changes. His brows furrow and his lips turn into a thin, tense line.

“Everything okay?” Steve ask worriedly.

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah, all good,” Tony says dismissively and slides his phone back into his pocket. “Look, food’s here!”

———

“How about a phone-free night?” Tony suggests as they enter the penthouse and smiles a little tighter than the way he usually beams at Steve; the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his nose scrunches up. Steve knows Tony’s smiles too well to be fooled by this oddly fabricated one, immediately growing suspicious.

“Uhh, sure,” Steve says hesitantly, wrinkling his forehead. “Why the no-phone rule, though?”

“No reason,” Tony shrugs a little too quickly, then draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. Taking a step closer to Steve, he reaches for Steve’s hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Just don’t want any distractions tonight... no work, no social media. Just you and me and a box of tissues for your sniffles.”

Tony says the last bit in a low, fond voice that makes Steve’s heart clench with fondness and his cheek go a dusty shade of red, speculation suddenly all forgotten.

“Yeah?” Steve ask a little shyly, biting his lower lip and looks at Tony through his his lashes.

“Yeah,” Tony confirms. “And a cup of tea as well, that’ll feel good on your throat.” He lifts his hand to lace his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve melts into the touch, closing his eyes contentedly.

“You’re too good to me,” Steve murmurs, exhaustion seeping into his voice as he nuzzles his head against Tony’s hand like a cat seeking attention from its owner.

“Nothing could ever be too good for you, darling. Now, off to the shower,” Tony says firmly, but his tone is still gentle. Steve nods, and he starts to walk towards the bathroom, but Tony stops him. “Wait!” he exclaims. “Your phone.”

Steve looks down at his pocket where his phone sticks out, then pulls it out and hands it to Tony with a sigh and a shake of his head. “You’re ridiculous,” Steve chuckles.

“Mhm... you love it,” Tony says confidently and smirks as Steve rolls his eyes in a playful manner. “Now. Hop to it, Captain.”

———

Steve doesn’t even think about not having his phone on the bedside table when they snuggle up in bed. The warm steam from the shower had broken loose some of the congestion in his head, but now he’s sniffling uncontrollably, and even blowing his nose half a dozen times does nothing to stop his runny nose. It’s tiring, and he’s so ready to just doze off against Tony when he joins him under the covers with a fresh box of Kleenex and a cup of hot tea with lemon and honey.

“Thanks, snf!” Steve says and takes a sip of his tea. It does feel heavenly, like Tony said it would, calming the scratchiness he’s felt in his throat all day.

“You’re welcome, baby.” Tony kisses the top of Steve’s head and lays an arm over his shoulders, inviting Steve to cuddle in close while he scrolls through their watchlist on Netflix.

By the time they’ve picked a movie, Steve has finished his tea and is resting in head on Tony’s chest, already half-sleep. Tony still has his arm wrapped protectively around the larger man, and his cheek has come to lean against Steve’s forehead. It’s comfortable and safe, and even though it’s somewhat new to them, being together and all, it feels familiar, like it’s always been this way.

Within 10 minutes of the movie, Steve is snoring softly from trying to breathe through his stuffy nose, and Tony is not far behind him. His own eyes have slipped shut, and he asked Jarvis to turn off the lights as soon as Steve’s breaths had evened out so he could let himself fall asleep.

———

They eat breakfast in the communal kitchen the next morning, making easy conversation over two plates of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon, coffee for Tony, and ginger tea for Steve.

He’s feeling a little better today, less like his head is stuffed with cotton and more like there’s just a faint sort of pressure on his sinuses. His throat feels better, too, and Steve thinks it must be the combination of a good night’s sleep and all the tea Tony’s made him drink over the last couple of days since he started coming down with his cold.

He’s still very sniffly, though, and he sneezes about seven or eight times from the time they wake up ‘till they’ve eaten their breakfast, Tony blessing him each time, sometimes following up with a sweet term of endearment or a quick kiss pressed to his cheek or hand.

They’re about to load the dishwater when Clint enters the kitchen, seemingly in a good mood, if the way his face is lit up is anything to go by. “Morning, lovebirds,” he says as he pours himself some coffee from the pot. “You feeling any better today, Cap?” he asks and takes a sip from the mug.

“I am, thanks,” Steve says, happy that Clint cared to ask. He quickly furrows his brows, though, because how would Clint know he had been sick? “How do you— weren’t you on a mission this past week?” Steve asks confusedly. He hadn’t been at the press conference yesterday, and he’d already been gone for a few days when Steve started coming down with his cold.

“I was, yeah. Came back late last night.”

That just makes Steve even more confused. “Then— then how did you know I’ve been sick?”

Clint frowns at him, looking just as confused as Steve feels. “Haven’t you...” he trails off, seemingly stumped. “You’re all over-“

“All over our group chat,” Tony cuts in hurriedly, interrupting Clint. “I made a text chain to let the team know you were under the weather. ‘Be nice to Steve, he’s sick’ and that sort of stuff,” he laughs nervously, glancing between Steve, whose expression has softened slightly, and Clint who’s still gaping at him.

Tony widens his eyes and cock his head at Clint when Steve goes back to filling the dishwater, mouthing get out now that Steve’s not looking.

Clint catches on, or at least he gets the impression he should just leave, because he quickly turns on his heels, mug in hand and exits the room. “Well, have a nice day,” he calls over his shoulder when he walks through the door.

“That was... odd, don’t you think?” Steve says, closing the dishwater and leaning against the counter.

Tony shrugs. “It’s Barton,” he says simply, as if that would explain the strange encounter. It makes enough sense to Steve, at least, because he just mirrors Tony and shrugs as well.

“I guess you’re right. Do you still have my phone, by the way? I should check my emails,” he says, looking around the kitchen to see if Tony put in somewhere in here.

Tony stills for a second before stammering out a, “N-no! No... I think it’s in the living room, but, uh, maybe you should take a day off,” he splutters, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “You know, just to make sure you’re not working yourself too hard when you’re sick.”

Steve smiles at Tony’s concern. “I’m feeling a lot better, thanks to you, so I think I’ll be good to look through a couple emails.”

Tony swallows around nothing, then clears his throat. “Okay,” he mumbles. “If you’re sure. Just... maybe you should stay off social media today. I think it’s best to give yourself a break from all that, especially when you’re still just getting better.” Tony winces at how illogical that sounded, and Steve picks up on it, too, because the frown on his face has returned and he look just as perplexed as before, if not more.

After a couple of seconds of uneasy silence, Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tony, what is going on? Why is everyone acting to weird?” He might be a pretty face and all, but Steve isn’t stupid. He can tell when something’s off, even if he subconsciously tries to ignore it.

Tony holds his breath for a moment, then exhales defeatedly and pulls out his phone. “You’re gonna hate this,” he mutters under his breath and hands the device to Steve, who takes a look at the screen.

Aww, poor Steve, he looks so tired and cute when he’s all sick and sneezy #GodBlessAmerica

I never thought I’d call a sneeze hot, but damn, the way cap flexed his bicep when he sneezed was h a w t!! #GodBlessAmerica

I thought he couldn’t get sick anymore? #GodBlessAmerica

Okay, but captain america sneezing is actually adorable #GodBlessAmerica

Steve lets out a noise that sounded like a mix between a frustrated groan and a pained whimper. So apparently he’s now a number one trending topic on Twitter… great.

He slides the phone onto the kitchen counter, the screen facing downwards so he couldn’t see Tony’s Twitter-feed. Burrowing his face in his hands, he sighs fretfully. “Why?” he mumbles, the sound muffled by his palms. “Why? This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

When he emerges from hiding his face, he pouts, then sniffles when a warm, tingling sensation starts at the back of his nose. He scrunches up his entire face in an attempt to fight off the sneeze, but it’s useless.

Tony looks at him fondly and pats his back when he raises his arm to catch a rush of sneezes.

“huh’UTSSchhh! ehhIIShhoo! uhTSC’uhh!“

He keeps his nose and mouth covered for a few seconds, waiting to see if the lingering itch will actually turn into anything more than that. It doesn’t, not right away at least, and instead he just snuffles into the soft material of his hoodie. “Ugh... sorry, I’mb such a mbess.”

The sneezes seem to have re-established the congestion, and Steve fumbles with the tissue box that’s in the countertop, pulling out a couple.

“Bless you,” Tony says warmly. “You’re just a little sick, honey.”

“A sick mess, then,” Steve says into the tissue, and he looks a little bashful when he has to blow his nose, turning away from Tony.

Tony leans in to press a kiss to Steve’s shoulder before reaching around him to grab his phone. Unlocking it, he reopens Twitter and starts scrolling. He doesn’t get to read more than a few tweets before Steve’s large hand covers the screen.

“Don’t look at that,” he whines. “It’s horrible.” Steve knows he sounds petulant and childish, but he’s too annoyed to care.

Tony chuckles, though, which makes him even more annoyed, and Steve huffs, not understanding why Tony is suddenly laughing at him. When Tony catches Steve’s glare, he just smiles.

“They’re not so bad,” Tony shrugs. Steve rolls his eyes and start to pull away. “Hey, they could’ve been a lot worse. Most of these are either just people being concerned or saying how cute you look, which I wholeheartedly agree with.”

Steve hesitantly removes his hand and peeks over Tony’s shoulder as he continues going through the trending topic.

Most them are actually quite sweet, Steve has to admit, and he even finds himself smiling at a few of them.

“See, that’s cute,” Tony says, pointing to a tweet that reads,

I hope our precious bean remembers to take care of himself and get plenty of rest and drink lots of tea. @tonystark pls give @captsteverogers all the cuddles! #GodBlessAmerica

Steve hums, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as he nuzzles his nose into Tony’s hair. Then a video pops into view, and Tony scrolls past it, but Steve is curious and asks Tony to go back up.

“What’s that?” he points to the video.

Tony taps on it, and footage of Steve at the press conference yesterday pops up. The camera is zoomed in on him, and Steve immediately recognizes the scene.

At first it’s just the nose rubbing and consistent throat-clearing, but 20 seconds into the video, though, a familiar melody starts playing in the background, and Steve sighs. He’s so tired of hearing Star Spangled Man being played in any situation let alone this one. The rest of the recording basically just shows all of Steve’s sneezes, the almost-sneezes, and coughs with the underlying music, and that’s really all Steve remembers, because he wants to pretend he never saw that video as soon as it’s over.

“I know I was just starting to accept this but I take it back. This is horrible,” Steve groans. He tries to take the phone out of Tonys hand, and he would probably delete the Twitter-app if he got the chance to do so.

Tony clutches it to his chest, though, and shakes his head at Steve. “Look, I know you think this sucks, I thought so, too, the first time. But come on, Steve, it’s funny,” he claims, smiling while saying it. “Besides, look at all your fans! They adore you, they just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“What do you mean you thought so too?”

“Uh, sorry—?” Tony blinks at Steve, brow furrowed.

“You said you thought it sucked the first time too. What did you mean by that?”

Tony exhales, laughs a little, at turns to look into Steve’s eyes. “You think none of my sneezes have been caught on camera?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. He just looks blankly at Tony, like he’s still not quite sure what Tony’s trying to say.

“There are numerous compilation videos of me sneezing on the internet,” the brunette explains. “Interviews, press conferences, talk shows, even just videos of me walking down the street. But that’s what you get for being a public figure. They sometimes catch you at the worst moments. God, the amount of content they must have of me sneezing through all of allergy season would be truly astonishing—“

Steve chuckles a little, tightening his arms around Tony.

“— and yeah, it’s a little embarrassing at first, but looking back on it, it’s actually quite funny.”

“I really don’t see how you can find that funny, babe,” Steve says, smiling and shaking his head at Tony.

Tony seems to take that as a challenge and quickly goes to YouTube, typing something into the search bar.

“Tony, I don’t—“ Steve doesn’t accept the phone when Tony tries to hand it to him.

“Come on, Steve, just watch it.”

Steve sighs and takes the phone. The video is about 2 and a half minutes long and just like Tony had said, there’re videos of him sneezing in a variety of different settings: some at a talk show Steve can’t remember the name of, some at a some sort of conference, a couple of Tony walking through Central Park. There is even one of him right after a battle, still wearing the Iron Man armour but with his helmet off.

“They’re different now,” Steve comments when the video ends.

“Sorry?” Tony says, not understanding what Steve meant. “What’s different?”

Steve’s lips quirk upwards. “Your sneezes. They’re different. Now you always lean away from however you’re talking to, and you always excuse yourself beforehand...” Steve smiles bashfully, realizing he knows all these small details about Tony that are so obscure but so clear in Steve’s mind.

Tony smiles too, probably realizing the same thing. “That kinda sounds like someone I know... I think you’re rubbing off on me, Rogers,” he says and stands on his tiptoes to reach Steve’s cheek with his lips.

Steve leans into the soft touch of warmth and returns the gesture with a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“I kinda get what you meant about it being cute when I sneeze, though” Steve mumbles into Tony’s hair after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... You looked adorable in that video, with your face all scrunched up like that.”

That makes Tony laugh, makes his eyes gleam and crinkle slightly at the corners. Then Tony’s eyes draw away from Steve’s and move further down his face until his gaze reaches the pink tip of Steve’s nose. With a mischievous look, he leans up to place a delicate peck right on the centre of it. His lips barely touch Steve before his nose twitches and he has to duck his head into his shoulder.

“hehhIIssh! tchSH!”

Wasting no time, Tony takes Steve’s face in both of his hands, pulling him down into a deep, eager kiss before mumbling against Steve’s lips, “God bless America.”

#my fic #stevetony #my babies #God Bless (Captain) America #?#🥺🥺🥺#anon #ask box

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p---ink · 4 years

Text

Stark Contrasts: Chapter Four

Author’s Note: For anyone following my series on Tony Stark, this is the 4th installment. Chapter 5, will be my last chapter, and it is coming soon. I hope you enjoy this.

Summary: Tony makes it his mission to find you after you leave.

Warnings: Angst, (I promise the next chapter will have smut!!!)

Song: Where’s My Love by SYML

Word Count: 5.9k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: The Lengths He’ll Go To

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

Some offered looks of worry. Some clutched their guns. Some knew not what to do, as they watched the panic-stricken man search the station for anyone he thought could help him. He had just burst through the doors of the precinct, frantic state of mind attached to his demeanor. He blew past the front desk, despite the receptionists pleas. He could not care less about their waiting line, he could not care less about their protocol. Every minute wasted, was one where you could be getting further away. Every minute wasted was one where he was not with you.

“Sir, excuse me? You can’t go back there! Sir!” The receptionist yelled, as she followed his movements passed the front gate.

He plopped himself down in the first open chair with a face behind the desk. The woman on the other side of it looked from him to the receptionist before dismissing her. “It’s okay Rebecca, I’ll handle this.” She sat her cup of coffee down before starting. “How can I help you Mr. Stark?” He was no longer surprised when people who he had never met called him by name.

“I would like to report a missing person.” Were the first words Tony had uttered since his being there.

The detective reached for a free piece of paper and pen among the clutter on her desk. “What is the name of this person?” He told her your first and last name. “And when did you last see her?”

“A few hours ago.” He stated. The detective stopped her scribbling and glanced up at him for a moment.

“So it’s only been a few hours? What leads you to believe she’s missing?”

“Everything she owns is still at home.” He simply said, believing that alone made sense.

“Well if anything sir, that should prove she’s not gone.”

“No you don’t understand. She left everything at home. Her car is still there. Her apple watch. Even her phone was still on our entryway table.” He placed the sleek black device on top of the desk to prove he wasn’t lying. You were going to take your phone, but Pepper thought it was best to leave it. “Don’t underestimate the lengths Tony Stark would go to, when it comes to what he wants.” She said.

“I see.” The detective started, picking up her pen again to scribble his comments down. “Well how old is she?”

“Look I already know where you’re going with this one. Yes, she’s an adult. But she wouldn’t just up and leave like this. Her family doesn’t know where she is, nor her friends. I contacted her professors, and no one at her university has seen her other than yesterday.”

“It seems to me like you haven’t given them enough time to. You said it’s only been a few hours.” The detective— or Danielle Shaw according to her badge, laughed.

Tony examined her, taking offense to her amusement. “If she’s not missing, why were her things left at home?” His tone was now slightly aggressive, whereas before he could contain his frustration.

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to trace her. You seem a bit controlling.” Shaw stated casually.

“Excuse me?” He was already agitated, but she was just pissing him off now. She had but long abandoned her pen to invalidate him. It was as if she had already given up on searching for you.

“Listen sir, I am going to say this in the nicest way possible. Often in domestic violence cases the victim will—”

“My girlfriend could be at the bottom of a lake right now, and you’re accusing me of abuse?” He sneered, sitting up in his seat to grip the handles on the chair. He knew you weren’t at the bottom of a lake. He knew you hadn’t been kidnapped. You were gone, and you didn’t want to be found, so all that the detective was suggesting reigned partially true. But he had come with hopes that they could trace your location some how. He knew now, that those hopes were in vain.

“We just have to cover all of the bases is all, Mr. Stark.” She leaned back in her chair, offering him a tight-lipped smile that failed to reach her eyes. She had even placed the paper she took her notes on in a drawer beside her seat.

“Look are you going to look for her or not?.”

“We’ll do our best to find her.” She assured him, reaching across the desk to grab the phone.

He placed his hand over hers to halt her actions. He didn’t believe a word she said. “You need her phone to do this? What if she calls it looking for me?”

“Then we’ll call you immediately.” She said snatching her hand away from his, sliding the phone into her desk. “Can I take down all of the ways to get in contact with you?”

Now feeling defeated, Tony gave her everything she needed from him. “Thank you. We’ll be seeing you soon Mr. Stark.” She affirmed, smiling as she reached a hand out for him to shake. Her attempts at cordiality went ignored.

Fuck the police. Tony thought as he raised from his seat to exit the building.

…..

He spent months searching for you since his police visit. It became his routine to call your closest family members. He had even coaxed some of the distant one’s information out. The bastard was crazy enough to visit your loved ones for the first time just to make sure you hadn’t been staying there.

He spent weeks calling up your friends, making sure they hadn’t heard from you. Making sure they hadn’t posted any pictures of you on their social media pages. They all blocked him, growing annoyed in his desperate attempts to find you.

He had toured your University twice. Stopping by your old classes to see if your professors had heard anything, leaving his number so they could text him if they had. Of course they knew nothing of your whereabouts, but that was confidential information that they could not share even if they did. Tony knew this, but he offered them a large sum of cash if they found out about anything from your peers.

Samuel, the maître-d at your favorite restaurant, had seen or heard from him at least every other day. Tony was now one of his most frequent callers. As much as Sammie loved him, the man had become frustrated with his day-to-day nonsense, and banned him from the premises until further notice.

Everyone was growing tired of him. He couldn’t see why though. Five months wasn’t long to any other person, but to Tony it felt like eternity.

Five months. That’s how long you had been gone. That’s how long he hadn’t touched you, or seen you smile. Five months is how long you hadn’t talked to him. That’s how long it had been since he had gotten to wake up next to you, or smelled your skin. He hadn’t heard you laugh in five months. He hadn’t heard you nag, in five months. At this point he just wanted to hear you breathe, after five long months, but he knew that was too much to ask.

There were no more movies. They had all made him depressed. He no longer played his favorite songs. They reminded him too much of you. He would often travel the long way home. This was to avoid driving by your favorite places. When he did decide to eat, he couldn’t even cook for himself; takeout and beer became his only source of food. Most of the time he’d be in the gym, pounding out all of his frustrations into a boxing bag, wishing instead to hold you, before passing out to your memory.

He tried visiting bars in search of women who resembled you. He never found anyone who could capture your aura, but the one time he got close, he called her by your name. Not like he wanted it to go anywhere anyway. They could never compare to you.

She’s forgotten about me now. He thought. She’s moved on to someone else. She hates me because of that night. How could I be so stupid to fall asleep. His thoughts often consumed him. They often got the best of him. He was tired of denying them, so he just let himself think the worst.

His phone began to vibrate for the first time today. He rushed to it, hoping it was you or news of you. Disappointed, he sat it back down when the caller ID revealed Pepper’s name.

Perhaps the only person who he had not called since your departure was Pepper. Despite knowing for a fact that she was the only one who knew where you were, he knew that she would never tell him. He felt more disdain for Pepper than he had ever felt. They had once been best friends but now all he felt for her was resentment.

She had called him every day. Trying to check in on him, seeing if he was okay. Seeing if he would stop by Stark Industries. Seeing if had forgotten about you. Pepper, despite Tony’s doubts, genuinely thought she was helping him. She genuinely thought she was helping you. Had she known her attempts to diffuse the situation would have left him this miserable she would of thought twice. Overall she didn’t regret what she thought was right.

He was currently sitting on the floor, texting your old number, informing you of how much he missed you. Despite not hearing anything from you, he continued paying your phone bill. He knew you wouldn’t reply. Your phone was still at the Police department sitting in Detective Shaw’s desk. Still, he loved the idea that you might text him back.

Knock! Knock! Knock! The front door sounded, distracting him from his previous tasks. He thought it was Pepper again, coming to reprimand him for ignoring her calls. He remained on the floor, ignoring the door.

“Mr. Stark open up! It’s Detective Shaw from the police department!” Shaw shouted, banging on the door once more. Tony ran to fling it open, in hopes that the detective had some updates.

“Hi Mr. Stark, you haven’t responded to my calls.” Shaw accused, tilting her head to survey him. He looked very different from the last time she had seen him. More rugged. Tired even.

“That’s because you haven’t called me. I haven’t heard anything from you in months.” She thought that because he was such a busy man, she could get away with lying about contacting him. Had she only known he spent his months consumed in you.

She quickly recovered from her lie. “Yes Mr. Stark, and I’m sorry for that, but its because we haven’t found anything regarding your missing person’s report. I am just here to return the phone you submitted into evidence. We are calling off the case, so we thought you should have it back.”

Tony snatched the ziplock bag from her hand, before grumbling a ‘thanks for nothing’, shutting the door in her face. She looked as if she had more to say, but he stopped listening after she said they hadn’t found anything

He returned back to his seated position on the floor against the couch. Now instead of texting your phone with his, he could use yours to reply back. He turned it on and unlocked the device, surprised he could still remember the passcode.

“I’m going crazy.” He sighed, shutting his eyes and dragging a hand down his face. He had said this upon opening your phone to reveal over 500 notifications. About 70% of them being from him. It took a minute for them all to load. When they did, he went into your messages app, scrolling through the endless gray. Scrolling. Scrolling. Scrolling until he came to a stop at the last messages between the two of you.

You: Hey, what would you like for dinner?

Tony: I could go for your favorite tonight

You: Okay well, I’ll have it done by the time you’re back.

Tony: Noooooo, I wanna help! I always help.

You: Fine! Love you, I’ll see ya soon.

‘Love you’ He read. He remembered that night. It was a few nights after you two had been caught. That night was a calming before the storm, because it was the day before you left him.

It was one of the most normal times he had experienced with you. It felt like the two of you were an official couple. Your favorite song echoed throughout the kitchen as he helped you prepare dinner. While dancing circles around you, he belted the lyrics out in a dramatic voice in dire need of taking your mind off of Edward. In dire need of hearing your laugh again. Come time to wash the dishes he heard it once he used the kitchen sink’s hose to drench your entire body in water. At first you were pissed, but then you burst into a fit of laughter as you took your revenge out on him.

‘Love you’ Why didn’t I say it back. I didn’t get to tell her before she left. I didn’t tell her enough. He thought rereading your texts over and over again. He read it so much he tried to imagine your voice saying it. He couldn’t forget your face. So many pictures of you flooded his and your phone. But he had long forgotten your voice. He cursed himself everyday for it too. When he was done dwelling on ‘Love you’, he moved on to ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘I’ll see you soon.’ He read. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ ‘I’ll see you soon.’ What did she mean by that? Does she want me to come and find her? He thought.

“Ugh!” He groaned out-loud. “I really need some fucking help.” He left the texts between the two of you, about to re-lock your phone, but something bothered him. None of your family and friends had texted you. His texts were the last you had received. Out of the 536 notifications, not one had been a text from your loved ones.

Twitter. Instagram. Tumblr. Facebook. Pinterest. Even fucking Youtube had sent you more notifications than your friends. What the fuck? He questioned. What puzzled him more however, was the name just below his. Nao? He had never met them.

He opened the messages between you and the girl, studying every word. You had asked her if you could stay with her until you departed the states. She told you yes and sent her address in return.

Tony rushed to get up from his spot on the floor. He fled to put on something decent before sprinting out of the house to find Nao.

…..

Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Those were the sounds his slaps made against the door. He barely left a second between each thud, forcing the resident to answer his calls. He hadn’t messaged her ahead of time to make sure she was home. He didn’t even know the girl, who offered you a home away from him. All he knew, was that the person on the other side of that wall was the last to see you. Perhaps even someone who could give him answers regarding you. He continued his desperate knocks, silently begging for God to answer his prayers.

Nao swung the door open, eyeing the slate of wood as if he had put a hole through it. Her glare turned into a look of bewilderment upon turning to examine her door’s assailant. He had on a pair of tented shades as if to hide his identity, but she knew who he was.“Tony Stark?”

“Yes. May I come in?” He asked, after pushing past her to invite himself into her apartment. He didn’t even give himself enough time to properly analyze her.

“Um…no.” Nao answered to herself, dumbfounded that this man just barged his way into her apartment. She followed him through the tiny living room, watching him inspect the furniture and knick-knacks that were spread throughout the place. She thought he was judging her choice of decorations, but he was really trying to determine what kind of person she was.

“Can I help you?” She rudely asked, snatching back the journal he picked up from her coffee table.

An unfazed Tony replied, “Actually you just might be able to. Nay-yoh?” He annunciated “Am I pronouncing that right?”

She was curious as to how he knew her name, as well as how he found her “Yes, how did you—”

“You let a girl by the name of Y/N stay here about 5 months ago?” She was hesitant when she answered yes, very aware of where his questions were going. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“I can tell you that she doesn’t want to be found.” Nao confessed, informing him of what he already knew.

“I asked if you know where she is.” He stopped his journey around her apartment, to focus in on her. How he didn’t notice her baby-blue hair before, was a mystery. She had on sea-foam green silk pajamas, and looked like she had just rolled out of bed, despite it being around 1:00 in the afternoon.

“Dude, Ms. Potts told me not to speak to you about this, and so did Y/N.”

At this point, he took his shades off, and trudged closer to her squaring his shoulders to appear taller. It was his attempt to intimidate her. Nao looked more unbothered than ever though; pale arms crossed against her chest. She was close in his height, still a few inches shorter, but in this moment they were equals. She quirked her eyebrows in a ‘try-me’ manner, before speaking again. “If my answer wasn’t clear before, I am not telling you shit.”

His hard demeanor dissipated, and he soon turned into a pitiful mess. “Please. Is it money you want?”

“No.”

“Protection?”

“No.”

“Weed?” He suggested that because it was the first thing he smelled upon entering her apartment.

“Nah. I’ve had my fill.” She laughed

“Then what is it? Just name it and I’ll do it!” She knew he was serious, but her loyalties laid with you.

“Nothing. I can’t tell you anything.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Tony questioned.

“It’s all in the same isn’t it?” Nao casually countered.

He was beginning to lose hope again. “Please? I am begging you. Surely you must know that the circumstances surrounding her leave, are bullshit.”

“She did it for you Tony.” Nao looked at him as if he was ungrateful. She was now greatly concerned by your choice in men.

“I know. I know.” Tony started, deeply admired by your love for him. “And I love her for it, it’s just…I didn’t ask her to. I didn’t need her to. Could you just please tell me where she is.”

Pain shined through his ego. She saw this grown man on the verge of breaking. A man who had everything in the world , yet he still could not be satisfied without you. She could only offer her pity. “I can’t man. Maybe you should just leave things the way they are. It’s for the best.”

“I am sick of people telling me what is for the best. I have been on this planet for over forty years now, and I am perfectly capable of deciding what is best for me.” Tony spat

“Well so is Y/N.” Nao asserted, batting for you since you weren’t there. Growing irritated she walked over to him to begin pushing him towards the exit.

Surprised by this lanky girl’s strength, Tony kicked up his pleading due to his lack of time.“Please. Please? My life is miserable without her.”

Though she believed him, she still felt the need to be loyal to you. But If he found you on his own, she could still do that. She stopped to open the door, now speaking again. “I can’t tell you where she is.”

“Oh come on—“

“—But I can tell you to check her twitter.” And with that, she pushed him through the door, shutting it quickly before he could protest.

…..

Twitter. What in the hell did she mean by that? He thought. Of course he had checked your twitter, it was the first thing he had done when he left the police station. He followed every one of your social media accounts, and you had been inactive on all of them. There weren’t even any signs of you liking others posts. Pepper practically had you on lock-down.

He was out of ideas, before, he decided to check your account through your phone. Perhaps something different would show up.

Still nothing.

He became bored browsing through the app. Then curious as to how it worked. Despite being a genius, twitter seemed like a foreign concept to him. Being the attention-seeking, flamboyant man he was, you would of thought he’d be drawn to it. But he was usually far too busy to keep up with the ever-changing app. Far too busy to even care what anyone had to say about him. Now, however, he had all the time in the world.

He searched through your profile, wondering if he could find anything in your bio about where you could or would be. You were way too smart for that. So still nothing.

While searching through your navigation tab, that’s when he finally found something worth searching for. Right across from your profile picture, was another glowing blue icon.

Tapping on it, he was able to switch to your not-so-secret account, Tonysbitch99.

“Well, what do we have here?” He cheered, as he scrolled through your most recent tweets. Some dated back to as early as yesterday. The entire account was dedicated to defending him.

You had tweets that called out TMZ for spreading fake news. TMZ tweeted comments that speculated Tony being dead, because no one had seen the titan of industry in public for a while.

Tonysbitch99: @ TMZ, shut the fuck up. You speak of things you know nothing about. Tony’s just chillin. Dealing with invasive idiots like you, sick people, can be stressful.

There were tweets about Tony being a cradle-robber for dating a woman who was half his age.

Jer0d_the_g0at: When are we gonna talk about Tony Stark? This man is dating a literal child. She’s only like 10.

Tonysbitch99: @ Jerod_the_goat, please invite yourself to mind your fucking business. They are both consenting adults, and if she didn’t wanna be with him she wouldn’t be. BTW she’s 24.

Jer0d_the_g0at: @ Tonysbitch99, you talk like you know her. Did she tell you that? Anyway it doesn’t matter, because Tony either pressured her, or she’s in it for the money.

Tonysbitch99: @ Jerod_the_goat, look at you doing the same thing you accuse me of. Did she tell you she was pressured? Did she tell you she just wanted his money? People need to stay out of other’s relationships. She’s a grown ass woman.

Tonysbitch99: @ zuko-marry-me, I heard her ex was an arrogant p.o.s who always cheated and never gave her the time of day. That was your response to a comment calling the both of you out for betraying Edward.

zuko-marry-me: @ tonysbitch99, Please tell me how that’s relevant? That’s still his son, nothing Edward’s does will ever make what they did okay.

kayleesinterlude: @ zuko-marry-me, I don’t know about that one, love. I’ve met the guy, he was flirting and practically eye-fucking me in front of his girl. I’d fuck Tony after that too.

Endless tweets flooded your profile. Whether it was malicious attacks, or harmless thoughts, it was about him. He knew it was you, because they only tweeted things that you could know. Your latest tweet was one that had him in shambles.

Tonysbitch99: I hope Tony is taking care of himself. I wanna hear from him, but his health is more important right now. Remember to smile today @ therealtonystark. I love you. Hope to see you soon.

His vision became blurry with tears, and his throat emitted a sound that he had never heard through all his years of living. She does want me to find her. He thought. Mentally pulling himself together he kept looking. He scrolled until he finally found a tweet that tagged your location. “What is she doing there?” He asked himself.

“Tony why are you dodging my calls?” Pepper sounded from in front of him, the sudden surprise caused him to drop your device. They were currently in his bedroom, so he hadn’t heard her come in from downstairs.

“Fucking hell Pepper. How many keys do you have? You’re only supposed to use that for emergencies.” He said gesturing to the the key between her fingers. She stood in the doorway with her usual business attire on: navy blue pencil skirt, white blouse, and blazer.

“Tony this is an emergency. I need you to come back to the company asap.”

“Pepper whatever it is, you or Edward can handle it.” Tony assured, before rolling out of bed to get ready.

“This is about Edward. He’s stepping down.”

“What? Why?” He questioned, shutting his dresser closed before turning to eye her.

“I can’t tell you why.” She murmured.

“Pepper I have had it with you not telling me shit! If you don’t tell me why right now, so help me God!”

“Fine. I finally talked some sense into him.” She lied. “This is your company, and what he has done to you is unacceptable.”

Not understanding why she didn’t just tell him that, he left it alone before saying “Thanks Pepper, but that was unnecessary. You can tell Edward to come back now.”

“It’s not that simple.” Pepper stated, looking down at her feet.

“It never is.” He sighed. He didn’t have time for this, he was far too focused on finding you. “Why isn’t it that simple Pepper?”

“I told him the truth, and now he feels guilty” She whispered.

“The truth about what?” Growing impatient with her beating around the bush, he raised his voice when he spoke again. “Spit it out, please?”

She was still hesitant, but she rushed her words when she told him, “He isn’t your son.”

“Yes he is my son.” Tony sighed.

“No he isn’t Tony. I cheated on you.” She exhaled, forcing herself to speak faster before she chickened out. “This entire thing is my fault. I feel guilty about this all. Now you’re miserable because of it. You would have never gone through this if it wasn’t for me.”

“Stop.” Tony commanded softly, but Pepper continued her rambles.

“Y/N would still be here if it wasn’t for me.” She cried.

“I would have never met her, if it wasn’t for you.” Tony’s reassurement went ignored as Pepper continued.

“You should have never had to deal with Edward’s shit. Tony I am so sorry, please don’t hate me, Tony. Please forgive me.” She sobbed, now a whimpering mess. Seeing the usually well-kept woman in disarray, left Tony in shock. This was not his Pepper.

“Pepper! Calm down” Tony shouted, grabbing the frenzied woman’s shoulders finally breaking through her fit of self-guilt. “I chose to deal with Edward’s shit.”

“You didn’t know he wasn’t yours though Tony.”She cried. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was pink in the face.

“He is mine.”

Now sniveling, she feared he didn’t understand her because of the blubbering. “No you don’t understand. He’s not your biological son.”

“Pepper I do understand.” He confessed, smoothing out her sleeves.

She shook her head. Her bangs bounced all over the place as she wore her confusion. “What?”

“I hadn’t touched you in months, the night that he was conceived. I know I drank a lot, but did you really think I was that stupid?”

Directing her gaze away from his, she thought about it. “I guess I didn’t think about that. But then why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, meeting his eyes again.

He took in a sharp breath before he spoke. “Because I wasn’t the best husband to you. I was unfaithful. I was mean. And I was never there. I gave you every reason to cheat. In return, you gave me a beautiful boy. As much as we have our differences, I love Edward and I love you. I failed the two of you, and it’s you I should be asking for forgiveness from. Please forgive me.” He begged her, speaking in soft tones.

She was speechless. All these years she thought she was hiding a life-altering secret, when in reality Tony had known about it the entire time. He had even went far enough to claim a boy who hated him all his life as his own. Pepper knew Edward hated his father. She trained him to. She felt that if the two weren’t close to each other, her secret could become more bearable. Now she just hated herself for it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t.” He said smiling, pulling her in for a hug. “Well don’t say anything after you tell me where Edward is.” Tony had one stop to make.

…..

He pulled up to the building, the sun’s beams bouncing off of the spotless glass. Suddenly his nerves were compromised. Much like his relationship with you, it had been five months since he had last spoken with his son.

Every step he took towards the elevator felt like overcoming mountains. The higher the lift took him, the harder it became for him to breathe. When the doors opened, it felt like the ground would give out from beneath him; would it send him flying back down to become paint on the building’s marble floors?

This was hard. If their relationship wasn’t strained before, it was now. Tony slept with his son’s girlfriend. While you didn’t mean much to Edward, it was the fact that his father could stoop to such low lengths, that hurt him. Tony hadn’t even offered so much as an apology. He didn’t feel he needed to. Edward didn’t really care about you. No. Of course he didn’t. But he still felt disrespected. Foolish. Betrayed.

Tony took in a sharp inhale. Then a deep exhale. He grasped the the handle to his old office door, pulling open it open to peak his head inside. Because it was the end of the day, relatively everyone was gone. It was just him and Edward. He had to make sure, just in case there was another brawl.

He saw him, packing his items into a cardboard box with intentions of leaving. “What? You can’t handle the pressures of becoming the CEO.” Tony joked.

“If you’re here to gloat, I don’t wanna hear it.” Edward didn’t spare his dad a glance, because he knew he was coming. Pepper had called and warned him to be nice.

“I’m not here to gloat.” Tony paused to fully step into view. “I’m here to ask you to stay.”

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Tony. I know you’re only doing this because you feel like it will make us even.” He bit. “Just so you know, it wont.”

“Do you really think I’d let you run a multi-billion dollar company, because I pity you?” Edward just kept packing, refusing to look up and acknowledge his father’s question. “I did it because you’re my son, and I raised you right. I can trust that Stark Industries will do fine in your hands.”

“So I guess, mom hasn’t told you the news huh? I am not your son. So don’t call me that.”

“You might not be my blood Edward. But you are my son. I am the one that raised you. And I love you–“

“You have a funny way of showing someone you love them.” He snapped, stopping his previous tasks to eye his father

“Edward. What are you really mad at? Who are you really mad at? You didn’t love her. And me and you are also not the closest.”

It was as if he could explode in anger. “I’m mad that you lied to my face! I’m mad that I confided in you, and you told me I had nothing to worry about! I’m mad that you have been doing this out in the open for over a year now. I’m mad that when I confronted you two, you didn’t apologize, in fact you smiled in my fucking face.” He had to calm himself. He took a seat, to stop his chest from rising and falling. His fit of rage had consumed him for a moment, but then sadness washed over his person. “I mean I knew you hated me dad. I just didn’t know to what extent, or even for what reason. Now I do.”

Guilt began to eat at Tony. “Edward. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Well you didn’t ask.” He pouted.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” He sighed. “I really messed up badly this time.” He crossed the threshold, walking to sit on the desk, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned on its edge. It was a moment before he spoke again. “For the record I don’t hate you. Edward, you are my world. I failed to show you that, but please believe me when I say it's the truth.”

He placed a hand on the man’s back, rubbing circular motions for a round on his middle. “I knew there was a chance that I could hurt you by doing what I did. Yet still, I listened to my feelings and let go of my better judgement. From the bottom of my heart Edward, I am deeply sorry. Do you see us ever putting this all behind us?”

Edward glanced up at Tony, hurt still plastered on his face, but hope glimmering through his eyes. “Sure.” He responded softly, looked down at nothing for a moment, before meeting Tony’s line of sight again. “Dad.”

“Hmm?” Tony hummed, a small smile now playing on his features.

“If you ever get back with Y/N, don’t marry her. I can’t have slept with my mom.”

Ignoring his joke, Tony asked, “So you don’t care if I continue to pursue her?”

“No. I’m just happy you apologized” He barely gave Edward a second before he belted out a response.

“Good! I am so happy to hear that!” He said as he patted his back and leaped up. “Because I have a flight to catch. Don’t screw things up too much while I’m gone.”

He was practically out of the door before his son yelled for his attention.“Dad before you go, I just have one more question to ask.”

“Yes dear?” Tony questioned, placing a hand on the doorway to leave, turning his head slightly to focus on Edward.

Edward took his time asking, because he was unsure of himself. “If I loved her, would you have still pursued her?”

He only took a second to think about his next words. “Son if you loved her, we would have never been in this situation.” He responded. Edward pursed his lips in response, subtly nodding his head to show his content with the man’s answer.

And with that, Tony turned to leave. It was time to find his girl.

A/N Tell me what you think! Also please do not claim my work as your own. I love you all! @swaggysposts @retroxvailles I hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know if you see any errors.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark angst #Tony stark imagine #black reader #marvel imagines

144 notes · View notes

saintheartwing · 4 years

Text

The Continued Targeted Harassment Campaign from the Troll Mundo De Bee, aka Debtoons, Aka Dedehbee

I'm sure this particular person I'm thinking of who recently sent me some VERY unkind guest reviews on my "The Pigshit Troll" tale on FF.Net will find out about this. I didn't WANT to talk about them anymore but then they kept sending more and more vitriolic reviews. Not just to me, but to my friends.

See, here’s some of the things they said along with accusing me of trolling their fic, which I didn't, my critique was that their story seemed to be overlooking the fact Zim had done the mass slaughter of innocent humans and enslavement on top of that, and was Dib and Prof. Membrane hostage and can kill them at any time...all to make Gaz love him. So there's an inherently abusive power dynamic. But this person who I...at FIRST...was reluctant to name disregarded these very real issues I brought up and just told me, and I quote, "Go away, then. This story is happening whether you want it or not. :/" This happened months ago. In fact, I brought attention to what they said back in OCTOBER on my DA account. So now you’re getting an idea of what they’re like. In response to a reasonable critique about problematic undertones, they just basically told me to get lost, then blocked me before I could respond to that. I tried to reach out to her friends after she complained about my review, and then she got mad about my "Jeremy" story, seemingly thinking that because I did a story about dark subject matter, I was being a hypocrite for complaining about what Zim did.

Uh...that’s NOT HOW IT WORKS.

The issue was the story wasn't addressing what Zim did as bad, my story made it REAL DAMN CLEAR what Jeremy had done was a tragedy and horrible, and that what he'd been through WAS VERY BAD.

But YOU? YOU didn't do that in your story, it almost came off like you were putting Gaz in Stockholm Syndrome and going a kind of "Twilight" route of sort of glorifying a very problematic relationship. Now, I didn’t SAY specifically that in my review, do I actually think that what’s happening IS Stockholm Syndrome or exactly LIKE Twilight was, but it’s problematic in a SIMILAR VEIN. And THAT was my problem. Not the dark subject matter, but you not caring about the implications...at least, that's how it looked to me. Or at the very least, not, in-story, treating Zim like what he'd done was wrong when it was.

Anyway, that was months ago. I had basically forgotten about them until just I got these three anonymous guest reviews. I'm guessing that because they blocked me, they had to do it that way, they don't want to unblock me to leave a normal review. The reason why I'm pretty sure it's them is because they said, in their review, AND I QUOTE...

"And if my story had ANY grammar/spelling mistakes, that must be because I'm... not from U.S.? And don't speak English fluently? As a matter of fact, if you speak "only" intermediate English in my country (like I do), that's already one hell of an accomplishment. That's already getting xenophobic, ok?" Okay one, me criticizing spelling errors isn't xenophobia, how am I supposed to know you're from another country unless I actually go to your webpage or the like, and I'm not going to see that if I'm just replying to a review. So that's one reason I think it's her.

Another is that she wrote, in her third reply, from "Opinadora (Guest)". Since that's Portuguese, and it happens to be the most spoken language (based on my Google research) in the home country this person says she's from on her homepage, i was damn sure it was her. She saw my Pigshit Troll story, thought it was about her even though the story was really more about addressing the...well, the actual, real life Pigshit Troll going around FF.Net, while also doing a critique both of common tropes in typical Zim story fare and also critiquing the common critique. It was me addressing issues with my own stories just as much, with Gaz forcing Dib to realize his own flaws. It wasn't really about this person who happens to be from Brazil (if her page is to be believed). They also said stuff like "I would say you draw like a 12 years old, but that would be a compliment, 'cause when I was 12, I used to draw at least three times as better than you" and "Also:I forgot, but if we're talking s*** about each other's works: not only you draw like a 8 years old, but the titles to your stories are also so f*** creepy that they make me nauseous even before reading the first chapter".

So "Frost" is creepy? I can get why "The Pod People Invasion" is creepy, but a title like "Don't Read This Book" isn't inherently creepy. "Soft Hands" isn't. You're kinda just cherry picking. I made this journal pot on DA because she had decided to keep this "thing" going on going by leaving those guest reviews and assuming the story of “The Pigshit Troll” was about her, and she was just a total jerk about it. I had left her alone for weeks, MONTHS even until she popped up making those guest reviews again. And then she wrote "P.S.S.: If you give my name out to anyone who has nothing to do with this, and tell them to hunt me down, like you did to my watchers (which, BTW, wouldn't surprise me if you did), that just proves you're indeed a troll, and no better than PigShit here, okay? ".

I was trying to be civil... despite how INCREDIBLY PISSED I am at you. And she also kept calling me a religious fanatic and other crap to her friends. I'm not, a simple look at my journals on DA or my posts here would prove that, so it amazes me that you couldn't be bothered to do research on me yet you expect me to instantly know you're from Brazil. So I find it interesting you expected me to look you up and find out things about you so I wouldn't leave a review you could find objectionable...but you couldn't be bothered to do any research about me. I mean, you seem very liberal, concerned about LGBTQ rights, worried about the deforestation in Brazil, those are big issues. And I sympathize also with having a fascistic leader in charge. You got Bolsanaro, we have Trump. I get how it feels.

That doesn't excuse how you behaved towards me. I'd stopped reviewing your stories, you're the one who brought all this back by reviewing mine. So if you want to talk, unblock me on FF.Net or here, and let's talk this out like adults. If you've got a problem with me, actually outright say it, don't leave it in a guest review.

Now, if she’d said "Look, ZAGR is just what I'm into, it's just a fetish of mine", then fine! FINE. She should have just SAID that to me. But don't just dismiss the moral questions I had by going "Don't like don't read". Because that's a fallacy. A story can start out great, but turn bad. Or start out bad, but turn better. And how am I supposed to know if it'll do either if I don't keep reading? Take, for example, Star Wars's sequel series. Started great! Amazing!...ended poorly. Star Wars prequels! Started bad! But the ending was pretty darn good! So don't just go "don't like, don't read/watch", because that's not a real, actual good argument.

I had hoped, writing all this, she’d actually try and reach out. Or she’d stop.

But she didn’t. Let me quote what she sent to me next. "I was only mad because you plain trolled me on your review. Did you ever heard of "common sense" or "constructive criticism"?"

Which my critique was.

It was a critique of the character behavior of the main characters, not trolling. Bringing up the fact that Zim had taken Gaz's family hostage and could kill them at any time, but we were supposed to overlook that is a perfectly reasonable critique.

But instead of responding normally, you just leave another guest review. I was willing to talk to you normally and to work things out fairly, but you keep being a jerk. Everything you've said hasn't been an actual, reasonable, fair criticism of any of my stories. It's just been 'ad hominem'.

What IS ad hominem? That’s when you don't address the SUBSTANCE of someone's argument, you just attack the person arguing. Like if someone says "I think your story is glorifying abusive, unhealthy relationships" and you go "Yeah but you're into the inflation fetish so there"! That doesn't actually address the problem brought up about your story, it's just you attacking the other person. And she was doing that.

For weeks I was nice enough to not bring up your name, but I said “if you keep it up, I’ll reveal your screen name because you're the one being unreasonable now by keeping this going, when I was willing to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Her response?

“Opinadora:I find it funny how you know you can't strike me back, because you know that I'm ten times more talented than you and that you're just jealous of me... u.u I'm not one to talk down on other artist's work, but that's what you get for being a snob. You're no better than me and you know it. In fact, you're no better than ANYONE, and I say that because you really are worthless. Yet you like to act superior and talk down on everyone to have some fun or... IDK. People like you shouldn't even be called "people". You're just psychos.”

She was engaging in the very behavior she said I was doing. I don’t get how she functions like this. This was getting insane.

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

She posted a of blog entry and I'll quote what they said. "I've been contacting a troll of mine" Anonymously, you did it via guest reviews on my story, you started all this again after I left you alone for months with three meanspirited reviews insulting me and my work when I'd been leaving you alone. And yeah, I responded by making the "fight" public, you refused to speak to me normally. I was willing to speak with you normally through notes or PMs on FF.Net or DA, you were the one who ignored that and kept insulting me in guest reviews because you still have me blocked. "He's not being civil enough to keep anyone anonymous." I haven't used either your real name (which I don't know) or your screen name. So this is just a lie. "He's going after my watchers to complain about me" I contacted ONE of your watchers who I knew that also made a story in which an entire chapter was deliberately invoked to insult me because an obvious villain character with my SCREEN NAME was used as an easy enemy for Zim to blow up. I contacted them to say "Can you please tell your friend to stop". Here's the full text, basically. "I’m sorry I keep sending these messages to you, the only reason I decided to note you to begin with was because your friend (NAME REDACTED) sent me three anonymous guest reviews, and called me a bunch of names like “douchebag” while insulting my art at the same time. I was willing to ignore her until she sent not one but THREE meanspirited shots at me. And I can’t reach her, so..." So it wasn't "your watchers" plural, it was ONE watcher whom I knew you knew because I couldn't find any other way to contact you, because, again, you childishly blocked me and refused my olive branch. "He should have enough common sense to know that his issue is with ME and none other." But you refuse to let me talk to you openly. On top of that, you're the one who blocked me, not the other way around. "He's such a lunatic he said he would give out my REAL NAME, if he knew. O.Ò" I never actually said that, I was clearly referring to your screen name. "I was nice enough to not bring up your name, but if you keep it up, I WILL use your screen name, because you're the one being unreasonable now by keeping this going, when I was willing to let sleeping dogs lie. " So now you're just lying. Plain and simple. I would say you should be ashamed of yourself, but it appears you don't understand shame. I know some people say "don't feed the trolls" but that doesn't always work. Sometimes shining a light on them is the only thing that does. And I swore to publish every word they've said to me if they kept doing meanspirited guest reviews done solely to insult me.

What was their response to THIS? Well, they called me a retard.

"Seu retardado:It isn't Stockholm syndrome...? And I KNOW that nobody will believe you 'cause you're just using ANONYMOUS reviews against me. Now, you've been quoting me on your tweets nonstop even after I blocked you. Just so you know, I ALSO reported you for abuse multiple times." "But go ahead. Do you really believe that they'll take your side of the story? I only gave out your name to warn my watchers about you ONCE, but you just keep quoting me when I blocked you, so we'll see what happens THEN." "VSF:Wow... You must REALLY be retarded. And here I was just saying that to insult you. O.Ò But I'm not apologizing for that when you didn't apologize for flaming my story, attacking my watchers, nor even trying to act superior, when... You're not. O.Ò And still you want to believe that you're a better artist than me. I should be laughing about that. 9.9 Seriously, what did you take? "

I’D HAD ENOUGH. Because they didn’t JUST call me all these names. They started going after fellow artists on FF.NET and friends of mine and leaving insulting guest reviews too. So...

What’s their name? I dunno their real name. But their screen name is Mundo De Bee. AKA Debtoonz AKA Dedehbee.

This is their page.

https://www.deviantart.com/mundo-de-bee

This is their Twitter. Both normal AND NSFW

https://twitter.com/Bee_Zorra

https://twitter.com/Bee_Zorra_Total

Their current FF.Net account (or at least I BELIEVE it is) https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8252861/Debtoons

And their instagram. https://www.instagram.com/bee.zorra/

They keep leaving really nasty reviews on my work. You can find some of their “samples” here. https://www.fanfiction.net/r/13241492/0/1/

Here's what they've also said.

And this:

They also said this on a friend's story in an anonymous review.

""Debtoons chapter 1 . 3h ago

You think Shaeril McBozo did all this? You're mistaken troglodytes. Shaeril McBrown is a stand by, she works for me, doesn't have a choice in the matter. Pigshit is an urban legend, he works for me. You're all such fools, you have yet to realize there is more to come, much more, and I will bring you all down. I have not forgotten what you all have done. I'm always watching, you're all my pawns, the game is mine, and I play to win. La Cefiera Queen Bee AKA Debtoons Also, stop copying my ZAGR ships, yours suck was."

I've tried to ignore her. But this has now been going on for MONTHS. I am done trying to be NICE, and trying to hold back. So I’m exposing her for what she is. She’s a bully. A hypocrite. A troll. She NEVER ACTUALLY RESPONDED to any of my actual problems about her story, instead just DEFLECTING and misrepresenting my points, then attacking the misrepresentations.

I wasn’t even sure, at first, it was her Even after getting another anonymous review from someone who said "I already know your name. Shaeril and little Debbie told me. Hi I'm Striberz. Actually, I'm anyone I want to be, but let's go with Striberz for now. Good to meet you b***!"

Little Debbie. Debtoonz.

She also sent THIS anonymous review to me.

The way the review is written, the style, the little details, bringing up "Oompa Loompa" and the like and other little things that I never brought up publicly...this is why I believe Mundo De Bee, aka Debtoonz, is leaving me targeted harassment reviews.

But even THEN. After ALL THIS. My online friends suggested hold on, slow down. One of them said "I'll ask her about this". To try and get her side of the story. MAYBE it wasn't her. MAYBE it was just someone posing as her and trying to emulate how she talked. Months later, Mundo had written another story called 'Something called love', another ZAGR and DATR story. In the story, Zim was 20 years old, but Gaz was only 16. A friend of mine reviewed the story, making mention of the age gap and said 'Wait, that's illegal'.

It was mostly a joke review but in all of five minutes, Mundo furiously spouted off not one, not two, but THREE pissed off PMs, calling my friend “Some Dude Who Likes To Write” on FF.Net retarded and the review retarded. Pretty horrible. Nevertheless, Some Dude wanted to be diplomatic, even after Mundo left a super nasty review of my story. Theyw went to her Deviantart and asked if she left that revieand she said 'No', but the second they brought up the 'Oompa Lumpa' insult, a comment that Mundo had used directly to me in a note, well...she hid the comment and then ignored the other ones that were left and blocked Some Dude, pretty much indicting herself.

Then, several weeks later, guess who leaves a review in which she accuses Some Dude of being a xenophobe, transphobe, misogynist and homophobe? Well, Some Dude knows someone who knows Mundo. They ask to talk. She PM’s them, she asks "What do you want to accuse me of now”. Some Dude says he’s not accusing her of anything, they just don’t like being called a bigot. Her response was to just deny leaving that review...and then to block them AGAIN. Then we see a series of dozens of insult reviews, false accusations against myself, Zim’sMostLoyalServant and Some Dude along with others, all being attacked by her. She also evidently admitted to Some Dude that if she came across any review Nick and I left, even if it was positive, she would report it and tell the admins we sent the authors death threats. Which would be a LIE.

And so...that’s what happened. Now you all know the truth. This woman from, I assume, Brazil, has been harassing me for quite a while. Me AND my friends.

All this...because I wrote a bad review of her story asking why the story was glossing over Zim's cruel behavior and how much the story seemed to be like "Twilight" in a problematic way. I could have overlooked Zim falling in love with Gaz easily. My issue was why the story was overlooking his blatantly evil mass murder/blackmailing stuff and not acting like these were bad things at all.

Her literal response was, and I again, I quote from her directly, "Go away, then. This story is happening whether you want it or not. :/" So no actual response as to why the story wasn't addressing the elephant in the room. Just that...and then blocking me when I tried to reply.

I call that "cowardly".

She's always responded like that. She never unblocked me, she just sent nasty guest reviews to me instead of reaching out to me directly on DA, or Twitter, or a variety of other methods. It can never be her directly putting her name on anything because she didn't have the courage to do that.

She's a coward, she's a bully, she's a troll, and she's a hypocrite, doing all the things she's accused me of. What projection. How disgusting.

When I have an issue with a story, you know what my issue usually is? A moral one. And I'll say things like "This looks like domestic abuse, why are you acting like it's a you-go-girl moment for Gaz" or "Why is the fact Zim caused millions of deaths just casually overlooked".

It's not "YOU SUCK!" or lots of swears or insults or all caps. Cuz that sort of thing IS a flame. That IS a troll.

Saying things like "Why is the story acting like this character is a badass when their behavior's morally repulsive" isn't a flame. Or being a troll.

Anyway, now you all know. Mundo de Bee, Debtoonz, La Cefiera Queen Bee, Dedehbee , whatever you wanna be called, this is what she’s like.

SHAME. ON. YOU.

#Debtoonz #debtoons #Mundo de Bee #La Cefiera Queen Bee #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction net #fanfiction.net #troll #trolling #Dedehbee #call out #call out post #Invader Zim #ZADR

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awhiskeyriver · 4 years

Note

Hi friend!! Hope you are safe, and hope you get some insp to write again❤️ Maybe the scene right after their first kiss? Love you❤️

An anon also requested the scene post-finding out about the bet and losing the football game and so these two sort of coincide together. Hopefully this fits your request friend! Love you too!<3

+++

The locker room lacked the natural cheer and comradery it usually held on game day. Win or lose, we were a pretty solid team and typically good sports, but it felt different this time.

Our winning streak of the season was officially over. To make it worse, we’d lost on our own turf.

“We’re still doing better than last season.” Finnick tried to keep spirits up, but among us there was the overall stench of defeat.

I stripped off my jersey and threw it into the hamper, eager to shower and change so I could go back to the apartment. The weight of the loss was resting on my shoulders. I knew I was at the heart of the problem that translated onto the field today.

All anyone could talk about this morning was the party last night. Specifically, the video that was being shared all over Instagram from it, starring Katniss Everdeen and I.

After her friend walked in on Katniss and I...and everything happened...I left the party with the excuse to the guys that I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a lie, I felt like I was moments away from puking. They let me go without protest, not wanting to be responsible for me being sick at the game, and I’d driven home, turned my phone off and gone straight to bed.

It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave my phone off on game days. It was easier to keep focused, tune out the needless distraction of text messages and social media, so I hadn’t found out about the video until some of my teammates showed me in the locker room.

Thirty minutes before kick off.

The horrible timing had a rippled effect, causing me to play my worst game of the season and give people even more reasons to talk.

“Mellark.”

Coach’s dominating voice vibrated off the walls, making his presence known before he was visible. I cringed inwardly, muscles tight. Hearing your name called fresh after a lose was never good.

I ran a hand over my sweaty scalp as he came into view.

“Yes, Coach?”

“My office in ten.”

My stomach knotted. Really not good.

If coach saw skepticism in my eyes, he ignored it. Everyone waited until he’d left the locker room to resume talking. I tossed my helmet into its shelf, right above the slot where my last name was scripted in gold-plated font.

Finnick, who’s bench was beside mine wrapped a towel around his waist before turning towards me.

“What’s that about?”

“No idea.”

“You don’t think it’s…” he trailed off, but the unspoken words clung to the air. I met his concerned frown with one of my own, hoping, praying Coach wasn’t calling me up to his office to discuss that.

“It’s probably just about the sack I didn’t block,” I muttered, just in time for Cato to chime in.

“Which one?”

I ignored him, debating if it was worth it to just go up and talk to coach now and shower back at the apartment alone. Quickly, I ruled the idea out. Couldn’t go up to his office smelling.

“Maybe he’s calling you up to discuss the fact that this is a men’s football team and you, apparently, have a pussy.”

He went to smack my crotch but I grabbed his hand, shoving him away before he had the opportunity.

“That would explain why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of him,” Finnick retorted cooly, earning a disgusted grunt from Cato.

“Dude, not cool.”

Finnick shrugged.

“I’m just saying maybe if he had a set of balls, hot girls would actually want to fuck him instead of just pretending to for money.”

I could feel Finnick gearing up for a retort, but held a hand out to stop him. Last thing I needed was someone else fighting my battles for me. What would that prove other than the fact that Cato was right? But, there was no point in getting into it with someone like him. He was trying to get a rise out of me so he could laugh and make more jokes when I reacted. Like, tell me to get my estrogen levels checked or ask if I was PMSing. Idiot.

I showered quickly and changed into street clothes before heading up to coach’s office. Nerves twisted my stomach as I approached his ajar door and gave it a quick knock.

“Come in.”

His face was buried into his computer, typing furiously with half-squinted eyes that focused hard on his task. His desk was littered with football knick-knacks and sticky notes. Behind him were plaques in numerical order for awards the team had won over the years and he had a cabinet off to the side of the office that hosted an array of trophies.

I pulled a chair out from the other side of his desk and sat down, waiting. After hours of being on the field, it felt nice to sit for a moment.

He finished whatever he was typing and took a deep breath before pulling his glasses off his face.

“You know why you’re here, kid?”

I wracked my brain, mulling over all the possible reasons. I decided to test the waters by trying out the easiest.

“Because I missed the tackle in the third quarter? I think I figured out my mistake. If I just--”

“I didn’t call you up here to talk football, Mellark.”

My frown deepened.

“Oh?”

Coach sighed, folding his hands together. “Were you at a party last night?”

Shit. Shit. Immediately I knew where this was going and it was no place I wanted to be. Already, I could feel my skin flushing with embarrassment...made worse by the fact that the guys had basically guessed this conversation down in the locker room.

If it were possible to dissolve into the floor, now would be a great time to do it.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and ran my sweaty hands down the length of my pants.

Coach seemed just as awkward as I felt. He scrubbed a hand over his bristled jaw line as we regarded each other silently.

“The party,” he finally continued. “Anything happen? Any sort of...altercations?”

I suppressed a groan, wishing he would just come out and say it so I didn’t have to.

“Not really.”

“Not really?” he parroted, looking skeptical. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “You’re sticking with that answer? Because I’ve heard otherwise. In fact, lots of people around campus have.”

I swallowed. There was no way to deny it.

“You...wanna talk about it?”

It being the video, undoubtedly.

It was far from the first time I’d been made fun of. Middle school had basically been hell; I stood several inches above everyone else and was twice as wide, which made for a host of comments and jokes at my expense. High school had been a little better, by then I was playing football and was able to deflect most of the jokes being made at me to those being made with me.

But College had been the best change of pace. Away from all the people I’d grown up with and knew too well in Virginia. I supposed it had been too much to wish the fluidity of my past two years could last.

“Not especially,” I sighed, in answer to Coach’s question.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, that kind of behavior isn’t permitted on campus, and technically that party was on campus. If you were wanting to press charges--”

Charges? This was getting out of control.

“What? No,” I said quickly with a wave of my hand. “I don’t want to do anything. I just...want this to not be happening.”

It was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Coach nodded in agreement.

“Well...if you change your mind or need to talk about it all--”

“I don’t.”

“Right. But if you do...”

I nodded, staring down at my lap, waiting with growing impatience for him to dismiss me.

“That’s all, then.”

I stood up in an instant and gathered my bag, heading for the door.

“Mellark,” he called, bringing me up short. I paused, but didn’t turn to look. “Don’t get stupid and start eating salads and shit. Can’t have you dropping weight in the middle of the season.”

#katnissmellark44 #ask #fanfic #the bet #peeta pov #the panem nightlocks series #hopefully this sort of fits what you and anon were looking for <3

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

Everywhere - Chapter 7

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a little angst but it ends on a sweet note

A/N: The song for this chapter is Landslide by Fleetwood Mac-no lyrics this time though. Truth be told, I’m not feeling very inspired by anything lately. That being said, I’m thinking of not posting this story here anymore. No one seems to be into it as much as the other Javi stories going around and I’m pretty discouraged. I do appreciate the love I get from my usual readers though...that goes without saying.

Summary: You’ve done well for yourself in the States but then you get news that changes everything.

Tags: @longitud-de-onda @pascalisthepunkest @misslolasworld @aeryntheofficial @ah-callie @mrsparknuts @loki-098 @theringostarfanclub @huliabitch @thinemineours @flapjacques @opheliaelysia

You were enjoying your time back in the States. Connie called you almost every day and Carrillo called and wrote to you when he could. He was the only connection to the case in Colombia that you kept in steady contact with. You found yourself wanting to ask how Javier was doing but your pride always stopped you.

You had only been back about a month when your chief had pulled you aside and told you that you were being offered a position as an Intelligence Analyst. The job was at the El Paso Intelligence Center which meant that you would be moving to Texas.

Of course you had to go to Texas. Everywhere you went would remind you of Javier fucking Peña. Even when he wasn't near you, he was everywhere.

That's how you ended up in Texas, working at a desk, but making good money. You had been able to buy a nice place for yourself and live comfortably. Of course, most of the intelligence coming through was for the situation in Colombia which was to be expected.

As for your personal life, well, you didn't have much of one. You dated here and there, but you never ever really clicked with anyone. You told yourself it had nothing to do with a certain mustachioed casanova in Colombia, but that was a goddamn lie. And it made you angry. As you lie awake missing him, he was probably off with a different woman every night. He wasn't missing you. He probably didn't even remember what you looked like and that was probably for the best.

If only you could forget him.

---

You couldn't believe it had already been a year, a life-changing one at that. Sure, you missed being out in the field, but it had been a nice change of pace. Your phone rang and you picked it up announcing yourself by your last name.

"I need to see you in my office," the chief said.

"Oh uh...yes sir." The phone clicked in your ear and you hung it up before standing and walking the short distance to the chief's office. You knocked a few times and walked in, standing in front of his desk. "You needed to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Sit please." He gestured to the chair beside you and you sat in it. "You worked as a special agent in Colombia before this, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes sir. I wasn't there very long though."

"So you're familiar with the country and language, correct?" You nodded and wondered where this was going. "I want you back over there."

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you blinked a few times before responding. "Back...in Colombia, sir?"

"Yes and as soon as possible."

"Is there a reason why?" You had plenty of reasons not to go back.

"Is there some pressing reason why you cannot go to Colombia?" the chief asked, clearly frustrated.

"No sir."

"Good. Go home and pack. You fly out the day after tomorrow." He stood and walked to the window and that meant you were dismissed.

You walked out of the office and tried to catch your breath. A year. You had been out of Colombia for a year. You had been away from Javier for a year...and now you had to go back. What a cruel twist of fate.

---

The next day went by so quickly. It felt like you had only blinked and you were boarding a plane to Colombia. Even the flight seemed to go by too quickly as if everything had a hand in trying to get you back to the place, the man, you had tried to forget.

You stepped off the plane and into the airport to wait for your luggage. Once again, it came too fast. You hoped and prayed for any little delay but you were at the embassy quicker than you liked. They introduced you to people you already knew from the last time you were here to pass the time until someone from the DEA picked you up. You could easily get there yourself but they insisted on getting the Intelligence Analyst a proper ride. The only thing that made you happy was thinking that maybe they sent Steve to come get you. It would definitely be a surprise to him.

The door opened and the man talking to you stopped to greet the person who had walked in. "Ah, Colonel…" You turned your head as soon as you heard the word colonel.

"Horacio!" You didn't care how unprofessional it looked as you stood and practically ran over to greet him. He laughed quietly as you hugged him.

"It's about time." He rubbed your back. "How are you?"

"Kinda pissed being back here but so happy to see you!" You squeezed him once more before pulling away. "Let me get my bags…"

"I'll get them." He walked around you and picked up your bags before walking out the door. You watched as he put your bags in his car and scolded yourself for practically ogling the man. It had been too long. You snapped your eyes back to his face when he spoke again. "They put you up in a hacienda this time."

"A hacienda? Won't that just draw attention?"

"Maybe, but it may draw the attention of the people we're looking for." He opened the car door for you. "You want to go to the station first or what?" He closed the door and walked around to the other side.

"Is Steve there?" you asked, avoiding the other name that was on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't see why he wouldn't be."

"Okay. Let's go to the station first."

Horacio caught you up on anything he might have missed in his letters to you on the way to the station. You winced internally each time the name Javier or Peña was spoken.

"You know, he might be there too," Carrillo said as he parked then looked at you. "You don't think I noticed how you reacted each time I said his name?"

"Horacio...I…"

"It's okay. Come on." You both got out of the car and walked into the station. Your feet carried you right to the office you used to share with your partners. "Hey, your Intelligence Analyst is here," Carrillo announced and Steve turned around.

"No fuckin' way!" Steve walked over quickly and hugged you so tightly you couldn't breathe. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm in El Paso at the Intelligence Center now and the chief said he needed me back here so...here I am."

"You are a sight for sore eyes. Wait till I tell Connie." He must have seen you looking around. "Javi...he's uh...said he had to meet someone."

You sat on the edge of the desk and sighed. "Is that supposed to surprise me?" you asked with a laugh. "It's been a year, Steve. You can bring him up around me without all the trepidation."

"Talking about someone and actually seeing them are two different things, darling. Speakin' of…" Steve's eyes shifted slightly and your body stiffened as the door opened behind you. Carrillo slightly blocked you from his view and you were glad for it.

"What's going on in here? Did I miss something?" Javier asked.

You looked at Steve and shrugged before hopping off the desk and moving from behind Carrillo. Javier stumbled to a stop when his eyes landed on you. You could see him going through just about every emotion. You could also see the huge hickey on his neck. Typical.

"Hi...Agent Peña…"

"H-hey." When he said your name your heart skipped a beat. You smiled and nodded then turned back to Steve and Horacio. Javier stood and watched you talk and laugh with the other men. Of course it was easy for them to talk to you--you hadn't crushed their very souls. When Carrillo leaned over and said something in your ear, Javier bristled and felt his hands ball up into fists.

"We should all celebrate," Steve suggested. "You're the one with the hacienda now, you should host a party."

"Oh yeah, a bunch of DEA agents partying together at a hacienda won't draw any attention. Besides I've hardly had time to settle in."

"Fine. We'll all just go out then." Steve waited for your response and clapped his hands when you agreed. "Drinks on the Intelligence Analyst!" Everyone laughed. Everyone except Javier. He caught your eye again when you turned along with Carrillo to leave.

"Excuse me," you murmured as you walked past Javier. Carrillo walked ahead and had already opened the door when Javier touched your arm gently. You looked down at his hand and he moved it quickly.

"I just...I'm...it's good to see you," he mumbled but you had a feeling there was so much more to be said. Feeling his hand against your skin again was...a lot.

"It's good to see you too. And...you might wanna cover that up." You pointed to his neck and he tugged on the collar of his shirt. His mouth opened but Carrillo cleared his throat and you smiled before walking away. Maybe you would see him tonight.

---

This hacienda of yours was no joke. It was nearly fully furnished and someone had left fresh fruit out for you already. Horacio had sat with you for a little while before he got a call and had to leave. Now you were alone in this big house and bored out of your mind. Unpacking was your only remedy for that.

The little dress you had worn the last time you were here was way at the bottom and now you held it up in front of you wondering if you should wear it tonight. "Why not?" you asked aloud. The shoes you decided on were not practical nor comfortable but you didn't get out much and there was nothing wrong with getting a little sexy sometimes.

You were dressed long before night fell so you busied yourself around the house--dancing around barefoot, exploring the different rooms, familiarizing yourself with everything. Before you knew it, you heard a car horn blaring outside. You ran out to see Connie waving wildly before getting out and running to you.

"I can't believe you're back!" she screamed as she hugged you then she pulled away. "I'm so mad at you for not telling me you were leaving...but I'm so happy you're back!"

"I missed you too, Connie."

"God, I wish I looked like you in a dress," she admired. "Your little year back home treated you well, huh? Any stories?" she asked as she followed you into the house so you could put your shoes on.

"By stories I'm assuming you mean did I sleep with anyone back in the states and the answer is...none of your business." You stood up a little straighter with the heels on.

"That's not fair! Give me something."

"Listen, I have needs just like anyone else but I refuse to discuss them. I'm not as open about it as…" You cut yourself short and grabbed your little purse.

"Javi?"

"Not tonight, Connie."

"Well, he's gonna be there, you know? What're gonna do? Ignore him the entire time?" She walked with you out to the car.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do. I just wanna have a good time."

You could feel that Connie wanted to ask what happened between you and Javier but she kept quiet about it as she drove. Surely Steve had told her most of it anyway.

"I think he loves you," she blurted as soon as the car was parked outside the club.

"Connie...stop. I said not tonight." You opened the car door. "We only knew each other for a month and a few days. How could he love me?"

"You loved him, didn't you?" She got out of the car and walked over to you.

"Yes. Past tense. Now...let's go." You walked ahead of her but she caught up and linked her arm with yours.

"Sorry for bringing it up. Now smile and go shake your booty!" She laughed as you gave her a look. "Ooo here comes Horacio. I think he likes what he sees." She let go of your arm and made her way over to Steve who was sitting with Javier and a few other agents.

"You look great," Horacio said loud enough so you could hear him over the din of the crowd and the music. "Want a drink?" he asked and you nodded.

"I'm gonna go sit with everyone," you told him and with a quick nod he was off. One of the agents wolf whistled as you approached the table and you rolled your eyes. "Down boy!" you shouted and everyone laughed. You pointed to the empty spot next to Javier. "Anyone sitting here?"

"Be my guest." Javier gestured to the spot with one hand and lifted his glass of whiskey with the other.

"Thanks." You could feel his eyes on you but you looked out at the crowd to find Carrillo bringing your drink.

"Para la dama," he said as he placed the drink on the table in front of you.

"Thank you." As you drank, everyone asked you questions and told jokes. It was just like old times except it seemed like Javier didn't have much to say at all and he could never resist picking on you. You were about to turn to say something to him but got cut off.

"Let's dance." Carrillo held his hand out to you and you looked at him in shock.

"Dance? You dance?" You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet.

"Does that surprise you?" He pulled you onto the dancefloor and Connie followed with her camera. As he spun you out away from him, she snapped a quick picture and ran back to the table.

"Connie! I'm gonna break that camera!" you yelled but couldn't keep a straight face as you danced. Your body moved to the music and when you spun around again your eyes locked with Javier's and he raised his glass to you before standing and leaving. Your face fell but you tried to smile again as the song ended and you thanked Horacio for the dance. You walked back to the table and sat down, worn out and hot.

"Where did Javier go?"

"Probably for a smoke," Steve answered and you nodded. You looked towards the door but didn't get up. Isn't that how it happened last time? You went outside and he happened to be out there too and soon he was giving you a ride home. Not this time though. This time you were staying inside.

Connie stood and pulled you along to the bathroom with her but something told you that she didn't have to use it. "Go talk to him," she demanded.

"Nope." You turned and tried to walk away but she grabbed and turned you to face her. "Ow."

"He's miserable," she whined.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're both my friends and I just want you two to be happy."

"I can't make Javier happy, Connie...and he can't make me happy either." You sounded defeated.

"How do you even know that?"

"He'll never change. He came into the office today with a huge hickey on his neck. If he loved me the way you say he does then...explain that." You crossed your arms and waited for an answer.

"He's lonely."

"Hell, I am too but I don't wanna go fuck half of Colombia!" you snapped and the women nearby looked at you. "Lo siento."

"Look. Just talk. What's the worst that can happen?" She squeezed your arm and walked away. You stood there, your heart and brain battling over what you should do. Suddenly, you grumbled and stomped your foot, gaining some more strange looks from the people around you. With an exasperated groan, you turned and walked to the door and ran right into the man you were sent to talk to.

"Shit...sorry Peña." You steadied yourself by grabbing his jacket.

"You leavin'?" he asked.

"No. I actually was coming to find you."

"Me?"

"To...talk."

"Oh." He stepped back outside and put his hands on his hips. His usual stance. "So?"

"So...how have you been?" You groaned at your own question.

"Good. Great," he lied. "And you?"

"Never better," you also lied.

"Yeah. New job. New boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Now you put your hands on your hips.

"Yeah. You and Carrillo, right?" He looked uncomfortable saying it.

"We're friends. He...called me and wrote to me when I was stateside." What you said next was probably inappropriate but you weren't in your right mind. "I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about it…"

"I would be happy for you." Another lie.

"Hm…"

There was a long moment of silence. You could hear the beat of the music coming from inside but your heart seemed to be beating louder than that.

"I kept it, you know." He ran a hand over his face and sighed. "The letter…"

"Oh. I wasn't sure you got it."

"Yeah, well, I had no way of contacting you to let you know." The volume of his voice had gotten higher and you glared at him.

"And why do you think you even deserved to keep in contact with me?"

"Why did I de-" He growled in anger and began walking away only to turn back to you.

"Your letter said you loved me. I read those fucking words over and over again until I couldn't see straight! I tried everything! I tried drinking it away. I tried fucking it away! But you were always there! And then having you show up like this...I thought I'd feel better but it actually hurts more than you being so far away. Having to see you with fuckin' Carrillo like that…" He sighed and looked down at the ground.

"I…"

"I'm not even Javier to you anymore. I'm back to being Agent fucking Peña."

"Well, if that bothers you then I can call-"

"Did you hear a fucking word I said?!" he shouted. He walked up to you and put his hands on your upper arms. You blinked back tears that had been threatening to fall for the last few minutes. Him being so close to you again brought back so many memories. Most of them you wanted gone.

"I could've loved you, Javier," you whispered. "But maybe it's like you said...good is not what you need right now."

"How long are you gonna keep throwing my own words back in my face?"

"As long as they hurt me." You pulled yourself out of his grip. "And yes...they still hurt."

"Is everything okay out here?" Carrillo walked to your side and you wiped your tears away quickly.

"Everything is fine," you murmured.

"No, it's not." Javier stomped back inside and your eyes followed.

"I want to go home," you told Horacio. "Please." And that was the end of your night out.

---

The next few days consisted of you and Javier glaring at each other and the rest of the office walking on eggshells. One wrong word or phrase could send either of you off on a tirade and the office was already uneasy with tension. Whenever Carrillo showed up, Javier would always find that he had to do something in another room. Whenever Javier said he had to meet with an informant, you chuckled bitterly, loud enough for him to hear.

Connie showed up one of the days when you were sure you were going to kill Javier. You needed her happiness to clear the air.

"I got the pictures developed," she said excitedly. You looked through them and threw most of the ones of yourself in the garbage. "Hey! This is a good one! You're smiling!"

"I don't like it." You took it from her hand and dropped it back in the trash. "Anyway...I'm done for the day. Let's go get some food." You linked your arm with Connie's and headed out. You were looking down when you heard her greet Javier.

"Hey Javi!"

"Hey Connie."

You avoided his gaze and kept walking. Connie looked back at Javier and shrugged as you pulled her along.

---

Back in the office, Javier tried to organize some of the mess on his desk when he spotted a photo on the floor. He went to pick it up and realized it was a picture of you smiling. When he walked over to your desk, he noticed a bunch of photos had made their way into the trash. He dug them out and looked at each and every one. He didn't realize he was smiling until it fell off his face when the last picture he looked at was one of you and Carrillo dancing. You looked so carefree, so happy. He lightly traced over your face then folded the photo so that he only saw you. The other he took was one that Connie must have snuck and took at the club. You and he were sitting together. You were looking off into the crowd and he was looking at you. He scoffed. He was always looking at you. When you were around the rest of the world didn't exist.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x fem!reader #Narcos #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #headcanon

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charlie-sloane-art · 4 years

Text

The Fair Play 2

Summary: You’re about to leave for the funeral at Hightower, but first you need to revisit the past and make things right.

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Reader x Oberyn Martell

It turns out, your dear Caspian was loved by many in the capital. He took the hearts of many and enchanted twice as much. It infuriated Cersei to know that her dear kingly boy’s wedding would have to be postponed in order to account for half the missing guests that would be on their way back from Hightower, in the Reach.

The funeral procession would take a few weeks to reach the city by the southern coast and from there the actual funeral would last another week- the Hightowers had it in mind to remind everyone what their dearest second son meant to everyone. Regardless of their efforts, you knew what he meant to you, and no one else could say the same. He had been your heart, the everlasting flame in your chest.

That wasn’t to say the pain wouldn’t subside and leave a space for the massive ache of vengeance. That massive ache came one sunny afternoon as you packed to follow the procession. A letter slipped from your trunks, a letter you had meant to read but gotten sidetracked from when Caspian had grabbed your hand and kissed it, pulling you in with a whisper of “My love, leave the reading to those with nothing better to do. I’ve got so much more planned for us today.” You had let the red stamped letter go and had forgotten about it until now.

Breaking the Lannister seal on it, you shook your head “Of course you would have distracted me from a letter from Tywin Lannister.” Your stomach churned. Had it been important? Surely you hadn’t accidentally caused a misstep. Surely if it was important enough Tywin would have followed up in person.

The letter read: “Here’s to you finding this letter in good spirits and health. Lady Mormont, I have a most auspicious proposal for your likeness. It serves us both well for you to hear it out. My son, Jaime, is- as you know- quite fond of you. And now with the lack of his sword hand, I am afraid for his ability to continue serving appropriately in the service of our King. I would not be a responsible Hand of the King if I did not entertain the notion of his dismissal from such a role. My solution is simple: I shall offer you the Ladyship of Casterly Rock. In exchange, you marry my son and become the richest woman in Westeros and my son has reason to retire from the service of the White Cloaks, and so there I would have a proper heir to Casterly Rock and the Lannister fortune, so that I too may retire in good standing. I hope you will consider this offer. Your obedient servant, T. Lannister.” The letter was dated for the day before Caspian had taken his fall. Of course. You knew something must’ve been wrong when the talented man you had seen spar countless times on a balance beam took such an obvious fall. Caspian could stand on a razor’s edge and not tip over. And there was no proof left of anything but a fall when his body was found, so any accusations of a most foul deed would be difficult to prove if not impossible. “Stop it.” You murmured to yourself, taking a step away from the letter that rested on the valise on your bed. “You’re grieving. Nothing more.” Surely these were the subconscious machinations of a mind so bent on grief it was trying to weave itself a most distracting web of conspiracies. But, maybe not. You were sure to tuck the thought in the back of your mind for after the funeral. Perhaps someone there may know more than they let on and so weave your web further.

Before your departure, there were a few wrongs you had to make right, or at the very least address. “Brienne,” You found yourself knocking on her door before your departure from King’s Landing. No response followed your inquiry “Brienne, open up. I know you’re-”

“I’m not in there.” Her voice spoke behind you.

“Oh. Well, don’t I look foolish.” You smiled uneasily, pacing on your feet.

“Yes, you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tried to brush past you but you intercepted. Brienne could be a gentle giant when she wanted, and let you block her path.

“I ought to apologize.”

“Yes, you should.” Brienne straightened her spine and you took her queue.

“I apologize for lying to you about my pregnancy. I was never pregnant, in fact Jaime never so much as touched me before you found us in the woods.”

“And after?”

You shook your head “I haven’t come to talk about men with you. I’ve come to apologize before our paths diverge. In any case, you will make sure he’s alright?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Please, Brienne, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

It made you smile, her admittance to familiarity “Take care, Brienne. I want to see you after the funeral in good health.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” She took your hand and you realized how gentle her touch was, a conscious choice of movement.

“Yes?” Your voice quietened, meeting her blue gaze.

“How were you so sure the lie would work?”

“Sending a young woman to be executed for treason, that would keep you up at night for only a day or so.” You shrugged “But, you have the heart of a true knight, Brienne. Sending an innocent child to the Stark executioner with its mother...it wasn’t your style. I could read it the second we met.” You walked closer to her and leaned on to your tiptoes to reach your lips against her cheek “Take care, Brienne the Good Hearted.”

“And you, my friend.” You could tell she didn’t want to sound as weepy as she did.

“I hate to prolong a good-bye, but have you seen Lady Sansa anywhere?”

“She keeps to herself in the godswood lately.”

“Perfect. Two birds, one stone.” You left Brienne with another kiss, missing her cheek and landing on her chin instead “I better to see you again, Brienne of Tarth.”

“On most accounts, it’s apparently very hard to miss me.”

Your smile widened “And now she grows a sense of humor.”

“Forgive my tardiness, my Lady.”

“You’re more than forgiven for it, my Lady.” You hugged her tightly, trying to fit your arms around her body but being unable to.

You found Sansa where Brienne said she would be: in the godswood. She wasn’t praying, she’d given up the practice long ago. Instead, she was reading. That was until you stepped on a branch and the crack of it breaking underfoot made her look up at you “Oh no, not you.” Sansa shook her head, biting her bottom lip. If there was one person who could accost her in the godswood to the gods of the north, it would be the only other northerner in King’s Landing: you.

“Sansa,” You began but she stood up abruptly

“I don’t wish to speak with you.”

“Well, I do.”

“I don’t want to hear whatever excuses you have.”

“I have none. Sansa, I am not here to be forgiven. I do not expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it.” You approached her like you would a wary doe.

She paused, looking at her once-close friend up and down “What is it you want, then?”

“I wanted to see you. Sansa, I have missed you so much.” You sat down on one of the giant roots of the godstree, making room for your fair ginger-haired friend.

“You have?” She sat down, carefully, with enough distance to observe you.

“Yes. I miss our tea parties and our sewing competitions. I miss...I miss pretending to be each other’s princes in shining armor.” Had Sansa, only a year and a half younger than you, been the one to instill this idea that led to your enamoration of Caspian? Perhaps, but you couldn’t blame the poor girl. “I miss our conversations that stretched late into the night and I miss our revenge plots against your brothers.” You trailed off “Sansa, I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Robb would’ve cut your head off.” She spoke quietly about her late brother.

“Yes.”

“So why did you do it?” Her big blue eyes finally met yours and relief washed over you.

“I-” What could you say? That you were running away from a fate crueller than death and on the way decided to liberate the most valuable prisoner of war your ward-family had for your own protection? Suppose you could try “They were going to marry me off to a Karstark. Robb wouldn’t let me have a say in it. It was to keep the peace.”

“And you broke the peace.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Sansa looked back down at her lap and that’s when you took her hand that rested on her knee. She spoke your name in a hushed warning.

“It’s alright. No one is here but us. No one is watching.”

“Someone is always watching.” Sansa looked up and around the still woods.

“You’re a Lannister now. No one would dare hurt you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Tyrion’s not a bad man, Sansa.”

“He is if he’s one of them.”

“I doubt he had as much a say in being ‘one of them’ as you did.” Sansa turned to look at you for the comment and pulled her hand away.

“You have no idea what it has been like.”

“No, I don’t.” You turned, shifting to be closer to her “And for that loneliness, I am sorry.”

“Just leave.” She sighed, dejected.

“Sansa,-”

“Leave me alone.”

She flinched away from your touch when you leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “Please,” You whispered to her “Please send a letter. Even if you have nothing to say. Even if you believe it is stupid. I want to hear from you, Sansa.” You left her with those words hanging in the air.

On the return to your bedchambers where your valise sat waiting with the two only other dresses you owned, you saw a familiar face dressed in burgundy leather and riding pants “Jaime?”

He turned on his heel in front of your locked door and took in the sight of you “Rough day, Cubby?”

“Apparently.” You rolled your eyes at his comment “Are you here to send me off?” Your heart tugged at the idea of a permanent separation.

“No, actually. I’m here to escort you to Hightower.”

“Really?” The feeling in your chest elevated.

“Yes. Turns out, neither Queen nor King need me as much as I thought they did. I am free to go.”

You paused, suspicions rising “You’re not wearing the white cloak.”

“I have no more use for it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I was dismissed from my post last night. No one wants a one-handed knight, it would seem.” Jaime avoided his gaze on you. It was peculiar, you thought. At the same time that you had become single and available, the King had dismissed Jaime and made him free to be Lord of Casterly Rock. Perhaps it was a coincidence.

“Cubby, are you alright?” “Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m glad we won’t be separated.”

Jaime smiled widely “Me too.” Was he in on this plot as well? Only one way to know.

“I finally read your father’s letter.” You spoke as you opened your door and let him into your quarters.

“My father sent you a letter? That’s...awfully formal of him. What did the letter say?”

“He offered you up.” You sighed as if it wasn’t a big deal “Like the juiciest mutton at the feast.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He Cersei’d you.”

“And that means?”

“Jaime,” You scoffed a laugh “He proposed I marry you as a reward for my returning you.”

Jaime’s only thought was “Did he ask Brienne too?”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“No, I mean...I don’t understand. I should find my own bride now that I am Lord of Casterly Rock,-”

“Warden of the West? I guess not. You still have dear old dad to contend with it seems.” There was a pause as Jaime looked down at the breakfast table you had made a shrine on. “What did you respond?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He spoke carefully, tactical thinking, diplomacy, and careful consideration, not really his strong suit.

“Because the letter came a day before Caspian’s fall.”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours immediately “Surely you can’t be insinuating,-”

“I insinuate nothing.” You put your hands up, sitting on your trunk “I simply state mere facts.”

Jaime dismissed the matter entirely, still reeling “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”

“He did it to Cersei, to Tyrion. It was only a matter of time before he did it to you.” You reached over and plopped a grape into your mouth from the bowl of fruits behind your makeshift shrine. “On the bright side, my dearest,” You smiled crookedly at him “now you know how it feels.”

“Well, it’s not the same.” He denied it, sitting across from you.

“How so?”

“You didn’t like the Karstark boy.”

“No. I didn’t want to marry the Karstark boy. He was perfectly fine as a human being.”

“Exactly. You didn’t want to marry him.”

“And where’s the difference, then?” You hummed, oblivious.

Jaime spoke before thinking “There.”

You sputtered “What?”

Jaime’s face grew red and he stood up, biting his cheek near bloody “I suppose if I had to marry anyone I could do worse than you.”

“You said,” You stood with him “the difference is I didn’t want to marry him. And you do? You want to marry me?”

Jaime took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the ceiling. Why did his clothes feel as heavy as his old armour? “Yes.”

Tags: @jokersdoll @bluegalaxyprime @zeldasayer @beaferni @thewaythisis @edwardsj81 @hollandhiddles @mandahoe @btsbodyguardforever @refrigerated-omelette @theshiftylibrarian @azulasgf @vikingqueen28 @justnancydrewthangs @heatherlynn25 @c-ly-g @discogrrl @no-thanks-lol @yxorebeloxy @jeahyunniespeach @coffeeandtodd @reesestwizzlers25 @the-universe-stars-and-sun @zanasharm @venus-calum @cielphantomhixe @everything-lost-and-unsaid @fioccodineveautunnale @trashbin2 @0one-shots0 @literatureandqueen @readsalot73 @karolinadream @glimmerandsparkle @little-ms-fandom @sweet-songbirds

#game of thrones #jaime lannister #oberyn martell #game of thrones x reader #jaime lannister x reader #Oberyn Martell x reader #pedro pascal

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shabre-legacy · 4 years

Text

A little piece of the next chapter I’m working on for Nyaisa

(nyaisa is on her second day in havoc squad and just found out her cousins were killed the week before)

The next morning felt as dreary as any she’d had. The loss of her cousins hung over her and made it hard not to fall into a storm of memories from her life here and the disasters that had taken that life from her. But at least there was work to be done. It gave her a direction and kept Nyaisa from wallowing in her losses. She slipped out of bed and quietly gathered her gear. She had a bit of time before she had to report in and she really needed to hit something as sleep faded from her. So she left her armor behind and headed to the training room she’d passed the day before.

As she entered, she saw Jorgan over on one side. She didn’t want to deal with the attitude today, so she decided not to draw attention and after a few stretches, moved over to the punching bags. Taking a breath, she forced all the emotion into her fists and let it out. It’d been a technique one of her mentors had taught when she was on Mirial. The imperial occupation infuriated most people and terrified the refugees. They’d already lost homes to the empire and now they had another one gone. She’d been so angry those days, almost losing control of her rage frequently. Her cousins had been just as angry, but she didn’t know exactly how they learned to control it. Her mentor had simply taught her how to work out the worst of the emotions and discipline the rest. ‘Every choice shapes fate.’ He’d told her ‘So make the best choice, not the emotional choice’ Tos had always struggled with that. He was a good man, could follow orders, but he tended towards punching first and thinking second when people pissed him off.

Nyaisa tried shaking off the memories and focusing on her form. It was still early enough that the room was mostly empty and she was able to fall into a steady rhythm.

It was just a few minutes later when she felt a tap on her shoulder, she spun around fist raised to strike, jerking back quickly when she saw it was Jorgan. “Sorry Lieutenant, zoned out for a minute, won’t happen again.”

“Don’t worry about it, sergeant. Smart to keep on edge on this planet.”

“Of course. What can I do for you, Lt”

Jorgan partially turned away from her, gesturing across the empty room to the sparring mats. “You’ve got a good arm and since we’re the only ones here, care to go a few rounds?”

That was a little unexpected. The Lieutenant was pretty dismissive of her, even after her work the day before. “Of course, sir.”

Sparring with Jorgan was turned out to be what she needed to focus her mind. He was quick and aggressive in her style. It kept her focused and on her toes. He matched her blow for blow and block for block. It almost felt like a dance where she’d found the right partner. The rhythm and intensity helped to push down all those emotions and focus on being who she needed to be that day.

A few rounds in the ring later found Nyaisa ready, armed and headed to meet the Commander. She’d barely stepped into the hall leading to the command room when she heard someone calling her “Excuse me, Sergeant.” She looked over to see Private Farn from the day before rushing over to her. If he intended to try something, she was in no mood for it. But the boy simply seemed to be trying to stay out of sight a bit. “I’m very sorry to bother you, sir. But you’re the only person I could think to go to.” That was a worrying start to the conversation. “All of the other officers I’ve met here are completely corrupt. - All but you, sir. I know I can trust you.”

Well, that was something. She knew sometimes officers had to take rather unorthodox methods to keep the men in line and focused, but corruption, that was something else entirely. And all the officers, She’d met Jorgan and he didn’t seem the type, but that was always the way things were. “I appreciate your trust, Private, now speak freely - What’s this all about?”

She needed to know details before she could make a report or investigate these claims herself. She didn’t have time for this, but she’d seen what happened to soldiers sold out by their commanders before. That wasn’t something she could tolerate. “It’s my CO, lieutenant Virk” The poor kid seemed half terrified, but determined. “He’s scamming everyone in his command and nobody does anything about it.” Well, at least it wasn’t an officer she knew, that would have looked bad on her for not noticing. “Virk forces all of us to kick up to him to get safe postings. Credits, weapons, stuff we confiscate from the seps, everything.” This was getting worse with every word. “If you don’t play along, Virk assigns you to the most dangerous patrol route on the island. It’s like a death sentence.” The worst kind of officer, the one that his men can’t trust and one that throws away their lives for credits. “Corrupt officers give us all a bad name. Someone should report this guy.”

“My buddy tried to report him. The next day he disappeared to Talloran, and the day after that, he came back in a box.” and just when she thought it couldn’t get worse. Talloran was dangerous, but still… “You’re in Havoc Squad, sir - you’re important. You could talk to someone who matters.”

And there was her explanation for why he was going to her with this problem instead of the ethics officer. “I’ll inform my superiors about Lieutenant Virk’s activities immediately, Private.”

The kid brightened significantly, like a huge weight had been lifted, and in a way, that was accurate. The kid tripped over his words thanking her, he seemed to be overly impressed that someone, anyone, actually gave a damn. She’d meant what she said, this would go to the Commander and Lieutenant Jorgan and they would handle it while she ran whatever mission was necessary for their primary objective. She was certain of that. Tavus had a reputation for being the best soldier, and the best Commander any soldier could ask for, the type that was loyal and honorable and always watched out for his men. He wouldn’t stand for anyone selling out theirs.

She quickly crossed the dozen or so steps into where she could see Commander Tavus talking with Jorgan. Hopefully, there would be some work for her to do. Nya had always hated standing around. “Ah, good morning sergeant. I hope you’re ready to work there’s a great deal to do today.

#swtor #wip #my writing #nyaisa shabre #aric jorgan #ord mantell #returning home #fanfics #fanfic wip

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themadauthorshatter · 4 years

Text

Remember that Red School series post I made?

Well, because I'm crazy, I'm going to give you guys a scene from what would be the first book.

For context, this would be before the ball, but sometime when the Silvers, and Mare, make it to the woods, and the school.

Instead of Sophie killing The Beast, the red mist infects/possesses him in the Doom Room gutters.

He attacks while everyone's chilling out together, but is taken down for good by Cal, Mare, Agatha, Tedros, and Maven; Sophie didn't do anything because she curled up into a ball to protect herself.

They inform the School Master, Tibe, and Elara on what happened, and they're dismissed.

All except for Mare.

Rhian-fuck it, I'm calling him Rhian now, I don't care- asks if she can stay for a small chat, ensuring that it won't be a long conversation; ot doesn't do anything to calm down any of the silvers, but it gets the job done and they leave Mare alone with him.

HERE IS THE CONVERSATION(plus some before stuff that I mentioned):

"How bizarre. We should all keep our guards up in the event this happens again. We cannot have anything like what happened today repeat itself."

Everyone nods, and Rhian tells them all to leave, even though Tibe wants more answers.

"Excuse me, Mareena Titanos, I believe? May I speak with you for a minute? Alone, please?"

Cal, Mare, and Maven all freeze, Tibe fakes a sneeze to hide him biting his lip, Elara's eye twitches, Tedros looks btween Cal and Maven, because he's confused and doesn't know that Mare's not a Silver, and Sophie and Agatha exchange a look of pure, "OH, SHIT" at his request.

"Just for a moment. I have a few questions for you."

Mare accepts and everyone leaves, Elara giving her a very, "don't fuck up" look.

They all leave, and Mare is left alone with Rhian.

"I take it you Silvers have never heard of magic before arriving to the Endless Woods?"

"Not exactly, unless you count the abilities granted by silver blood."

"I'm sure." Rhian sits back in his chair and holds his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Something this peculiar can only come from our world, if you and your people have never had magic. Either way, it is still quite odd. Would you agree with me, Mareena?

"Or would you prefer it if I called you Mare Barrow?"

Mare has that "OH, SHIT!" moment like she had with Julian, and tries to play off Rhian's question.

"You... I think you're misunderstanding. My name is Mareena Titanos, School Master. I'm of noble birth."

"Yes, a noble birth in the muddy trenches that no one celebrated. One that took your mother, who should not have been on the battlefield pregnant, and left you an orphan until you were taken in by a Red man who wanted to give his wife a daughter. Come now, Mare, do you really think any of those Silvers would have allowed Nora Titanos on the war front with her husband, even when Tiberias's own wife, Coriane, wasn't allowed to fight by his side?"

"She... had little experience. Compared to... other hogh house ladies," Mare stutters out, very much hoping it works.

It doesn't.

"Excuse my profanity, but experience be damned. Why would Ethan Titanos allow his pregnant wife on the front with him?"

When Mare can't find an answer, Rhian finally stops grilling her.

"Forgive me. This act the King and Queen are playing leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"You've seen worse? Or better?"

Rhian smiles behind his mask and it definitely shows in his eyes; he may be 200 years old, but, unlike Rafal, he's more of a sage-y grandpa than the evil headmaster of a school; he gives wisdom in any way he can, even if it either isn't recieved, because the person is a bad listener, or if what he says doesn't make any sense; give the guy a break, his brain's had to adjust to two hundred years of new vocabulary and slang.

"Try watching a second year student sing a love song on the spot because someone stepped on his toe."

Mare cringes at this, because it sounds terrible already.

"It didn't help that he was a little tone deaf."

Mare bursts into some snickers and the unease mostly goes away. Mostly.

"Why did you want to talk to me?"

"You're not Silver, Mare. You never have been and you never will be. In that sense, you will not lie to protect yourself. It's not you that you need to protect, or only you. You need to protect the ones you love, your family, your friend. They all worry about losing their power, but you only fear losing the ones you love."

Mare just stares at him and nods a little bit.

"Unlike Tiberias or his wife, I have no reason to expect a lie from you. You don't need to protect the people that ruined your life."

Mare is still quiet before she notices the faint scratchimg of pen of paper and catches a glimpse of the Storian.

Rhian quickly puts his hand down on it to get it to stop writing. "Thank goodness. I finally found it. I have no clue as to how pens get lost so easily."

"Too much magic, maybe?" Mare asks with a shrug.

Rhian gives her those, 'sneaky, good move' side eyes. "Maybe."

Mare worries about going back out, but Rhian leaves his chair to give her a reassuring hand hold.

"Your secret is safe with me, Mare. All I ask in return is you do not let any of them turn you against yourself."

"I'll try."

With that, Mare leaves, still a little worried, but not as scared now.

Rhian, however, turns to the Storian.

I MAY BE NOTHING BUT ANGST, BUT I NEED TO ADD THIS TO LIGHTEN UP THE SITUATION.

"Must you always work when there are others around?"

The Storian stops as Rhian sits back down.

"I swear, it's almost as if you need an audience to do anything. Just like the Evers now, boisterous and a near complete nuisance."

The Storian shakes itself and gets ink all over Rhian's face, maybe even gives a lil' shit laugh as he wipes it off like a gentleman.

I know the Storian isn't much of a character, but, come on, wouldn't it be fun to see the most powerful thing in the world turn out to be a mischievous little asshole?

I don't know, I imagine it would have a little more of a personality because it's been around the good brother for 200 years.

Either way, Rhian is not entertained by its antics.

"If I didn't know better, I would say writing this fairytale has made you more- how should I put this?"

The Storian stops again, awaiting his answer.

"Rascalous."

The Storian shakes and repeatedly dunks itself in ink and shakes it out on Rhian, who blocks with some paper and a little bit of magic.

After a little bit, he slams the pen into a large book; "As vital as you are, you should know better than to act like a child. Mind your manners."

The Storian wiggles free and very begrudgingly keeps writing the fairytale, Rhian occasionally seeing what it's writing, and if anyone's in any danger.

Then he reads a very particular passage that he glares at the Storian for.

"I will remind you one more time to never use language like that again."

AND THAT'S THE SCENE!

I hope you guys enjoyed this scene, or at least found it somewhat interesting

Either way, thanks for reading!!!

#red queen #school for good and evil #red school #kind of a red school AU #mare barrow #cal calore #maven calore #sge sophie #sge agatha #sge tedros #the storian can be a real dick #rhian is a better school master than rafal #tedros #tiberias calore vii

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