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cazimagines · 4 years ago

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Let me treat you (ZemoxTransReader) (Ftm)

Request from Anon: Zemo x Reader where they start to fall in love, but the reader gets hurt super badly in the stomach and Zemo has to like examine the wound. The reader keeps pushing them away bc they’re trans (ftm) and wear a blinder and they’re afraid that Zemo won’t like them anymore

Word count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of guns and blood, slight angst, mainly hurt and comfort

Please don't upload this anywhere else

This is being cross posted on my ao3 account under the same name

Authors note: I hope this lives up to your expectations. I’m happy to get requests for one shots as people have such unique ideas like this.

Your back pressed against the wall as you glanced around the corner, waiting for the right moment to shoot. You could see down the road the figure of three men with guns pulled around ready to shoot if you ran past. You had to get them by surprise. Sam, Bucky and Zemo had all split up from you so you were on your own as you tried to work yourself back to them. You clutched the gun in your hands as you counted the moments down.

3...

2...

1...

Your legs moved quickly as you ran across holding the gun and pressing the trigger randomly. Your eyes were focused on the hiding spot ahead. Without stopping to see if you had hit them or not, you disappeared down the next road. Feeling your heart beat heavily against your chest you slowed down, gasping for breath. Your chest hurt from needing to breathe and your binder clung tightly to you, making you gasp for more air. Your hand grasped onto the wall beside you, supporting you as you learnt over to recover.

Footstep sounds rang in your ears, coming from behind you. You quickly spun around, aiming your gun at the person behind you. Your eyes were blurred with tears from your lack of breath but as they focused, you lowered your gun realising it was Bucky who was jogging up to you.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Bucky asked, taking in your worn out appearance.

“Yeah, just” you pant, stopping every few words to breathe, “Catching my breath, that’s all”

Bucky puts his hand on your arm gently pulling you down the road, “Sam and Zemo are ahead of us with the rest of the enemies. They need all the help they can get”

You nod, picking up speed at the thought of Zemo defending off everyone. You weren’t with the Avengers when the civil war had happened, so all you knew about Zemo was from what everyone had told you about. Specifically Bucky, who hated Zemo and with good reason. You pictured him as a man who was psychopathic, with an icy glare and fierce eyes, yet all the time you have spent with him was completely different. Dare you say it he was kind, funny, thoughtful. He gave everyone food, clothes, a place to stay. Yes, it was for his own advantage as well, but you couldn’t help but feel part of it was because he wanted you all to be okay. You enjoyed conversations with him as well, you always had a fondness for learning languages. Zemo indulged your interests. In the spare time you had together, he had taught you Sokovian his mother language. You were picking it up quickly, much to his surprise and Bucky & Sam’s annoyance when you two have your own conversation, which they can’t understand. At the safe home you were staying at, it had a massive library. One night you had asked Zemo to read you a book. Sitting opposite him on an armchair, you closed your eyes as you listened to his sweet Sokovian voice slowly lull you to sleep. The next day you had awoken somehow on the sofa with his coat draped around you. You had been too embarrassed to bring up that evening with him, and it seemed the same way for Zemo who hadn’t mentioned it again after.

You and Bucky jogged around a corner to see Sam and Zemo hiding behind a wall. As you caught up with them, their eyes flicked to you and Bucky. Zemo turns to you and briefly nods. His hair was slightly messy, stands fell over his forehead not in their usual position pulled back by hair gel. His chest heaved slightly as well, and his hand clutched the gun harshly. “Five men, ahead” he mutters

“Nice of you to join us” Sam says sarcastically, his mouth tugging up in a slight smile as he looked at you and Bucky.

Bucky shot him a dirty look while you focused on the five men ahead. They knew Zemo and Sam were there, but they didn’t know about you and Bucky, meaning you could take them by surprise. Bucky counted, making you all ready for the attack. You could feel a sweat bead drip down your forehead in anticipation.

“GO” Bucky shouts as you grab onto the top of the wall, pulling your body over and starting shooting instantaneously.

But then you felt something hit you. On your right side, just under your chest.

A yelp of surprise tore out of your throat, which quickly turned into pain as your body tensed up from the shock. The pain felt immense and spread throughout your body quickly. Your nerves feeling as if they had been lit on fire. Your legs gave out, and you watched as you slowly tumbled down onto the ground, but before you could reach the floor, you felt a body push into the side of you. It pushed you down and covered your exposed side with itself. The smell of cologne overwhelmed you, and you could feel his champaign stained breath on your face. His fur part of his coat tickled your face slightly. Zemo placed his arm beside your face to prop him up just above you as he used his other arm to shoot at the opposition.

With Bucky, Zemo and Sam all shooting at them, all the enemies eventually ran away. Zemo’s head turned to focus on you. His eyes were glazed with worry and his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the blood that was leaking through your shirt. If it was any other time, you would have been blushing like mad. But you were trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes because of the pain. You bit your bottom lip, slightly drawing blood as you stopped yourself from crying out.

“We need to get him back to the house,” Zemo tells Bucky and Sam urgently. He wraps his arm around your back, pulling you up onto your feet. He and Bucky have you wrap your arms around their shoulders and support you as they quickly rush you home. His hand presses on the wound to hold the blood in. You tried to stop him from staining his glove with your blood, but he refuses to listen.

Thankfully, the house wasn’t too far away from where you had been fighting, so you arrived there in no time. They carried you in and laid you on the sofa just inside the door.

“I need you two to rush to the shop and grab some bandages and antiseptic wipes. We don’t have any here” Zemo orders Sam and Bucky. They eyed each other, shocked at Zemo taking innovative for once but they don’t argue back and head towards the door. Bucky glances back as he reaches the door and you nod to him, letting him know you were okay with being left with Zemo. Zemo notices the exchange but just bites his tongue, choosing not to comment on it.

“I need you to take your shirt off,” Zemo says, refusing to meet your eyes as he tugs his gloves off. Your eyes widen and you shake your head at him.

“No, I- I can’t,”

Zemo glances back to you frowning, “What? I need to check the wound y/n and put a bandage on it”

“I-I can do it, or maybe Bucky can,” you say, looking away from Zemo.

You hadn’t told Zemo you were trans. Bucky and Sam knew. They had known you for a long time, but you never really told Zemo and the thought of telling him scared you silly. You didn’t know how he would react. You liked him; you liked him a lot though you shouldn’t, and you didn’t want to ruin it by telling him and him reacting badly.

Zemo’s face hardened as he heard your words, and his eyes dropped from yours. “You don’t trust me” he states

“No Zemo that’s not-” you try to say but Zemo cuts you off,

“No, it’s okay Y/n, I understand. I’m not a good guy, we all know this. Why would you even give me a sliver of your trust? I don’t deserve it.”

“Zemo…”

“I was a fool to think of you any differently”

You tried to sit up to move towards him but you felt a shock wave of pain as you moved your wound making you cry out and collapse back into the sofa. Zemo was instantly by your side, kneeling down, his eyes full of worry. He grabs a hold of your hand and clenches it tightly to help with the pain.

“Don’t move. At least do that for me y/n”

The doors slam open with Sam and Bucky rushing in, “They’ve followed us here. Me and Bucky will keep them away while you treat his wound” Sam says pushing the medical equipment into Zemo’s hands.

“Wait-” Zemo tried to say, letting go of your hand to grab one of them but they had already left the building again.

He glances down at the stuff in his hands, then back up to you.

“Seems like you have little of a choice”

“I can attend to my wound”

Zemo’s jaw tenses and his eyes flash with anger as he looks at you, “Do you really hate me that much?”

“No, that’s not it, Zemo,” you exclaim

“Then why! Why are you so determined to refuse my help y/n,” Zemo says raising his voice

You look away from him in shame, and he stands up, groaning. He brushes his hands through his hair angrily as he paces around. He split off his coat and chucked it angrily onto the chair beside you, making you flinch slightly. You watched him walk around, though you are upset and in pain you couldn’t help focus on how good Zemo looked in that purple turtleneck.

“I like you y/n” he finally says, turning to look at you. Your throat runs dry and your eyes widen in surprise as those words slip out of his mouth and nestle deep in your heart.

“You are intelligent, funny, handsome. Everything you do I adore. Who you are, I adore. And I never thought that I would love someone after my wife, especially a guy. I’ve never felt this way about a guy before and it scares me, but I love you y/n. And I know you don’t like me back but please let me treat your wound, you are bleeding out and I don’t want to see you in pain”

You were left speechless at Zemo’s confession. Your heart swelled and beat rapidly against your chest, but your throat was dry like the Sahara Desert. With the more time gap between where you say anything, Zemo stares to get palier thinking he has fucked up.

“Zemo...you idiot, of course I like you!” you finally exclaim

He moves his mouth wordlessly, looking intently in your eyes as if trying to see if you were lying, but slowly the realisation breaks over him. His mouth turns up in a smile, but then something crosses his eyes and he frowns at you again.

“But then why don’t you want me to help you?”

You take in a deep breath and finally tell him, “Take my shirt off”

He cautiously walks up to, unsure of what to make of the situation. You feel his fingers gently brush against your skin, making you shudder. He slowly lifts the shirt off, careful to make sure it doesn't stick to the wound. As he lifts it off, your binder becomes plain to see.

His mouth opens slightly as he takes it in, then gazes at you in the eyes.

“Oh y/n, I don’t care about that. I like you for who you are”

“Really?” you question still worried.

His lips turn up into a slight smile as he looks down on you, he reaches forward gently brushing his hand against your face. You lean into it, closing your eyes slightly as you enjoy the contact.

“Really”

You grin happily at him, making him smile back as he sees how happy you are. He gathers the bandages and wipes and attends to your wound as you relax, enjoying the feeling of the man you love and loves you back, treats you.

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @jayxkelsi (Not sure why it won't let me tag you) @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail

#zemo #zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo x y/n #zemo imagine #zemo x you #tfatws #daniel brühl #marvel #mcu #helmut zemo #i love zemo

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ghosttrolls · 4 years ago

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Hi I write Fanfiction

So far all the stuff I have published is just for Danny Phantom and Trollhunters, and here’s a list of the stuff I have posted publicly. LAST UPDATED: evening of September 19, 2021 :) I know there’s a LOT of DP here, but I’m working on a longer fic just focused on Trollhunters, just you wait!

My Ghost, My Son is a Danny Phantom one shot fic that I’ve just uploaded as I make these edits. It’s 7,400 words, and it’s about Maddie changing her mind on ghosts, and offering to adopt/take in Phantom. It’s up on AO3 and FFN, and if you’re curious it started as a WIP idea that I described in this post here on tumblr.

The Itch is another one shot Danny Phantom fic I wrote. It’s short, only 688 words - and a vampire AU. It can be found on AO3 or FFN.

Ghosttrolls: More Than Human is my longest fic. I started it in 2018, it’s currently 13 chapters long, and it sits at a sweet 25,700 words rn. It’s available on AO3 and Fanfiction.net, and the story is a crossover between Danny Phantom and Trollhunters. The basic plot is that Danny moves to Arcadia Oaks, where Jim Lake Jr lives, and stuff starts to get weird. Danny’s parents accidentally let hundreds of ghosts roam free over the town, without even realizing it. Jim and his friends have to work together with Danny and his friends to fix it. Also other stuff happens.

There’s Ghosts In Arcadia is a Trollhunters AU where Jim’s mom is a ghost scientist working on a portal to the Ghost Zone. One day when she’s gone, Jim and his friend Toby go to look at the portal, and accidentally turn it on while Jim’s inside. He comes out looking different - and forever changed, though they try to hid it. It currently has 4 chapters, putting it at almost 7,800 words - but I’m really just getting started. This one is also on both AO3 and Fanfiction.net.

Haunted House is a one-shot that’s about Danny Phantom exclusively. On Halloween, Danny decides to host a haunted house at Fentonworks - and the only two people who show up are Dash and Valerie. They find that Danny’s haunted house isn’t just a place full of cheap decorations - there’s actual ghosts, and Danny’s in danger. At 4,000 words, it’s available on both AO3 and Fanfiction.net.

Chronic is a short one-shot for Danny Phantom I wrote about Danny experiencing Chronic Fatigue. It’s 1,200 words long - and only up on Fanfiction.net at the moment.

Danny Glows Under Black Light is basically a WIP Danny Phantom concept that I plan to expand on, where Danny goes to a party and his blood glows bright green under the light, showing through his skin. I plan on writing a more finalized version but for now it’s just a Tumblr post.

That’s all I have, for now. Thanks for reading!

#ghostly posts #my writing #fanfic #pinned post #trollhunters #danny phantom #ghosttrolls au #jim lake jr #danny fenton

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ziamhaze · 4 years ago

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My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months? The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week? Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I never ever thought about writing as a career. I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451. I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school. I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself. Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years. I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins. Yes, the Harper Collins. It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission. Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about. I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song. This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel. Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up. He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service. They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior. But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project. The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions. For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive. And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny. When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed. Liam, to Hutton. Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian). As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic. Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters. I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time. That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication. For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1. Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn). Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way.

2. Cold War AU. Paris, circa 1950/51. Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school. Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second. The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes. When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy. Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something. It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero. This is how you get better. This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day. You have to put in the work in order to get better. I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots. I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories. Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k. Also, sequels? Prequels? Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep. I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves. If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea. I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself. That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month. It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable. I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it. I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts! But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you. Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love! The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU! It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them. @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure! @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts. @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it. You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff. Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

#ziamhaze #my writing #ziam #ziam fanfic #ziam fanfiction #not sure what to tag this #also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this

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css1992 · 3 years ago

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Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

The last couple of weeks of May flew by, soon June arrived and with it even more sunny days and warmer temperatures. Peter couldn’t help but think that his life fell apart in the winter, and as summer approached, it was slowly getting back on track. He was able to save a decent amount of money every month, his apartment was coming together – he even had a dinner table and chairs by the second week of June –, he was taking on more responsibility at BFF way quicker than expected and he was happier, in general.

He felt comfortable enough to make plans again – with the steady money he was making, he might be able to give up porn in a couple of years and he would still be eligible to apply for some of BFF’s grants and scholarships, meaning he may be able to go to college at 23, after all. Money would be tight for a while, but it was doable. He could always work part-time to supplement his income as well.

Summer also brought some unexpected good news. On a random Thursday morning, he was bombarded with messages on Twitter and Instagram from people asking where they could find his videos now that Beck’s channel was down. He was confused at first, but when he went to check, the channel wasn’t there, it had disappeared from the site.

He gasped. For a total of five seconds, his mind went wild, his heart raced, and his eyes watered. For those five seconds, he felt a mixture of happiness, relief and confusion, knowing those videos weren’t out there anymore, couldn’t be found, couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be remembered. But it was only for five blissful seconds. When his brain turned back on and the first rush of excitement died down, he realized that probably wouldn’t last.

That had happened before, when they first started posting. People mass reported the videos and the channel until they got taken down, because Peter looked very young at eighteen. They had to send a picture of his ID to the website for check several times, it was months before it stopped happening once and for all. Peter assumed Beck was posting videos of his new boyfriend, who he knew looked very young, so it was probably just a misunderstanding and only a matter of time until he got the channel – and the videos – back up.

Still, he allowed himself to count that as a win and couldn’t help but feeling giddy all day, to the point where everybody noticed his good mood – Ned, MJ, people at BFF and Tony.

Tony, who didn’t disappear. As days and nights and weeks went by, Peter stopped waiting for it to happen.

“Someone is awfully cheery today.” The older man grinned at him from the driver’s side that night, as Peter sang along to Ed Sheeran, because it was his turn to choose the playlist. Tony had picked him up from BFF and they were heading to his place for a quiet night in.

“It’s a good day, Tony.” He shot back after the chorus of Put it All on Me and the older man beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“It sure is, kitten.” He turned up the volume and Peter sang even louder, causing Tony to burst out laughing.

At some point, he realized life was a little less complicated than he gave it credit for. He realized that if he actually gave things the precise amount of thought they deserved, not everything felt like the end of the world. The minute he decided to just let things happen the way they were supposed to happen, without overthinking every detail, life got so much easier.

He decided not to make the thing with Tony a big deal. Sure, when he thought about it for more than two minutes, it seemed like a huge fucking deal, he was basically dating Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the world, Iron Man himself, the man who had literately saved half the universe from extinction not even two years earlier. So, yes, that seemed like a big fucking deal, but–

But.

To him, he was just Tony. This charming guy who texted him daily to ask about his day and crack acid jokes about his business associates. This kind guy who sent him chocolates when he was feeling down and cooked him dinner every weekend and made sure to e-mail him easy and healthy recipes so he wouldn’t starve to death. This gentle guy who called him beautiful and touched him with such care that he forgot how many hands had left bruises on his skin before.

When he forgot everything Tony was supposed to be and just focused on everything that he was to him, what they had seemed so simple and pure.

He stopped worrying about labels, too. In the beginning, he kept stressing about what they had, what was expected of him, what he expected of Tony, but eventually, he decided none of that mattered. They made each other feel good, they made each other happy, they made each other better, all in all, whatever label he could put on their relationship wouldn’t make any difference, so he let it go.

Weeks later, Peter heard Beck had managed to get the channel back up, only for it to get taken down again in a few hours, then his Instagram and Twitter also disappeared. He wasn’t too surprised, and if he was honest with himself, it was fun imagining Beck losing his mind as he tried to fix it. After all, every day the channel was down, he was losing money. And his social media, specially his Twitter account, was where he promoted his content to thousands of followers, so losing that meant losing money as well, and if there was one thing Peter knew Beck loved, it was money.

He wondered what the fuck the man had done to piss people off like that, it was clearly a coordinated attack, but he wasn’t curious enough to try and find out what happened. He would rather watch from a distance, rejoicing in the satisfaction it gave him to imagine that maybe, just maybe, one of those days Beck wouldn’t be able to get the channel back up and would have to start from scratch, like Peter did. And maybe then he wouldn’t re-upload his videos – that part was a little harder to believe, but who knew, stranger things had happened.

When June came to an end, Peter was surprised with a notification from Tony on Just4Fans. He had almost forgot the man was still subscribed to his account there, they obviously never chatted on the app anymore, and when he opened the notification, his blood ran cold in his veins.

It was a tip.

A hundred thousand dollars tip.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. A tip? For what, a job well done? It wasn’t like Peter was – what did that even mean? Was Tony trying to say something with that, send some kind of message?

He decided not to call him right away, he was too – upset. The older man was picking him up later that evening for dinner, so he decided to wait. Whatever he had to say to him, he wanted to hear it in person. He wanted him to look in his eyes and tell him he thought he was his fucking wh–

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked as soon he got in his car, avoiding the kiss that came his way. Tony blinked in surprise, trying to understand why he got a phone shoved in his face instead of a kiss, and then he finally saw what that was all about.

“Oh, that–“ But before he could answer anything, Peter interrupted.

“I told you I’m not – Tony, why would you – this is so insulting!” He was honestly at a loss for words. They had been seeing each other for almost two months by then, things were going great, they met every week, they made apple pie together, for God’s sake, had he misunderstood all the signs?

“My God, Peter, that’s not that, I just thought – I mean, I’m a billionaire, you know this is pocket change for me, right?” Peter gasped, shocked, and Tony’s eyes widened when he fumbled with the door handle. “Wait! I didn’t mean – Jesus, okay, hold on a second, please!” Tony reached over him to shut the door before Peter could get out of the car. The young man turned to look at him with tears in his eyes and Tony looked incredulous when he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t just assume the worst, have I given you any reason for that?” He sounded hurt, which made Peter gulp. He took a few calming breaths and shook his head slowly.

“No,” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

“Ok, good.” He actually sounded relieved at that. “I am a billionaire, Peter, and this is pocket change for me, which means –“ he raised his voice a little, predicting a reaction from him that didn’t come, “I didn’t realize this would be such a big deal. For me, it’s like giving you, I don’t know, flowers. I didn’t mean this as a payment for whatever you think this is, I just thought this would be a good help. You’re starting your life now, you have that list of yours that you don’t let me see, you’re saving up money, you have your plans for college, I just meant to help. I mean, if we weren’t together, I would have tipped you every month, so I thought –“

“But we are together, Tony, I –“ he was a little calmer then, because that was, in fact, a reasonable explanation and he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but next time you mean to give me flowers, just give me flowers! I believe you have the best intentions at heart, but it’s just weird for me. I don’t want this to be about money. I just – don’t want that, okay?”

He gazed at the older man as he gaped at him, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out for a while.

“I just thought – I mean, people usually –“ It was unusual to see Tony speechless like that, but the man shook his head and looked back at him, almost embarrassed. “I just want to help you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter poked him in the arm, trying to lighten up the mood in the car. “You’re teaching me how to cook. Yesterday I made an omelet and I only burned one side, I’m getting good at this. That’s a big help.”

Tony didn’t laugh at his joke, like he usually did, he just gazed at him with an unreadable expression, before leaning in to kiss him, which Peter gladly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he whispered, then, resting his forehead against his.

“And I’m sorry I was rude. It won’t happen again,” he promised, and he meant it.

After that night, he removed Tony from his Just4Fans, which came as a blow to the older man, who pouted and whined for about a week, only stopping when Peter showed up at his place one Saturday wearing Iron Man lingerie under his clothes – it was supposed to be a joke, but it worked surprisingly well for Tony.

By July, it became impossible to keep sneaking around Ned and MJ, as the dates became more frequent. Peter decided to tell them that he had met someone online and that they were getting to know each other. He told them it was nothing serious yet and if it became serious, they would meet him.

He did have to throw in a few lies to get them off his back – he definitely had to lie about Tony’s age to avoid certain comparisons, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it, if he ever got to it. He wasn’t sure if or when he was going to tell them the whole truth, but for the time being, he felt more comfortable keeping that relationship to himself.

He and Tony didn’t go out much, but when they did, it was always to fancy and discreet restaurants with private rooms; Tony was, after all, a celebrity for all intents and purposes, and at if the press got a whiff of them there would be no secret left to keep.

But staying in with Tony was far from boring. They cooked together and the older man taught him all of his grandmother’s secret recipes – Peter could never replicate them by himself at home, but it was still fun trying. They spent almost all of their time down in the workshop, though, where Tony had him do menial tasks, like screwing bolts or reaching for a part inside an Iron Man suit. He said his tiny hands were useful for his projects.

He knew he wasn’t really that useful, but he loved when Tony included him and asked for his help, even though he didn’t really need it. He was fascinated by everything the older man taught him in those moments and in turn Tony always looked proud and pleased when Peter put his lessons to use.

He didn’t mind keeping him company when Tony was focused on projects he couldn’t help with, he stayed there anyway, reading a book or watching TV on the tiny couch – Tony kept saying he was going to get a bigger one, but he didn’t believe it, he knew the older man enjoyed the fact that the only way they could fit comfortably on it was if Peter was lying half on top of him.

So after several weeks, they established a little routine of their own. Since Tony had a busy schedule and Peter was still trying to keep Ned and MJ somewhat in the dark, they didn’t meet that often on week days, but they always talked on the phone before bed. On Thursdays, Tony picked him up after his shift at BFF and he spent the night at his place. They had breakfast together on Fridays and then they met again every Saturday after lunch, and finally Tony dropped him back off home every Sunday evening, so he could have dinner with his friends.

In August, for the first time in his life, Peter had two birthday celebrations. One with his friends, when the three of them went bar-hopping and he got home so hammered he had absolutely no idea how they managed to climb the stairs, and another with Tony, when he decorated the workshop with balloons and put party hats on Dum-E and U.

“Surprise!” He yelled lamely, throwing confetti at Peter when they stepped into the workshop. The younger man laughed, delighted, as Tony hurried to the kitchenette and came back with something in his hands. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I promise it tastes good. Probably.” When Peter looked down, he noticed it was a large chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday, kitten’ written on it in bright pink icing. It looked so ugly, but it was so beautiful at the same time. “What did I do now?” Tony frowned, face falling.

He blinked a few times and when he touched his cheeks, he realized he was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m just – really happy.” He grinned, pulling the older man’s face to give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

It was late October when Tony told him he had to go on a trip to China for two weeks, and even though it wasn’t his first work trip since they started dating, five months earlier, it would be by far the longest one since then, so it was kind of a big deal. Still, he didn’t expect to feel so affected, but on the days leading up to it he was so upset he couldn’t hide it.

They spent their last Sunday together wrapped up in each other doing absolutely nothing. They slept in, Tony brought Peter breakfast in bed, which was rewarded with a lazy and sloppy blow job, and they spent all day in bed, only getting up for essentials, like food and water. They didn’t even turn on the TV, they didn’t even talk much. They just held each other and exchanged slow, tender kisses until their bodies were too warm to stay under the sheets.

Tony ran a bath for them and got in the tub – it was big enough for eight people, but Peter made a point to sit in his lap, clinging to him like a koala. He felt Tony’s arms encircle him gently, as he rested his chin on top of his head.

“I’ll be home before you even have time to miss me, kitten.” He whispered, and those were the first words either of them had said in at least a few hours.

Peter didn’t tell him that was impossible since he already missed him, instead he just held him even tighter.

After the bath water went cold, they climbed out of the tub and Tony insisted on drying him, before dressing him in one of his own T-shirts, even though Peter had a multitude of spare clothes in his closet. He sat in bed, watching Tony pack a huge suitcase that reminded him just how long he would be gone for. He sulked a little – just a little – and that earned him a little kiss on his forehead, which was enough to undo the frown between his brows.

Finally, in the evening, Tony parked his car in front of Peter’s building, turning to look at him with an almost pained smile, before leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whispered against his mouth and felt when Tony’s lips stretched into a small smile. He pulled away a little, just enough to look into his eyes, and cupped his chin in his hand.

“I’ll miss you too, but I won’t be long, ok? It’s just a few days.” He pecked Peter’s lips one more time for good measure and the younger man nodded.

“Call me if you have time.”

“Of course, kitten, every day.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one longer than the previous, and Peter’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, containing the urge to say those three words that had been trapped in the back of his throat for weeks.

“Have a safe trip. Let me know when you land.”

“I will, baby.”

Peter got out of the car and waved, watching as it disappeared down the street. He sighed and his heart ached, he already missed Tony and it had only been a few seconds, how was he going to survive fifteen whole days? It seemed impossible. It was crazy to think how far they had come since March, when they talked for the first time. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He turned to go inside, but froze in place when he heard a familiar voice.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, huh? How rude.” He turned slowly to the left, only to be met with Beck’s cocky, arrogant smile, just a few feet away from him. “I tried calling, I tried texting, you’ve blocked me everywhere, I can’t even e-mail you anymore, it appears.” Beck walked slowly and leaned against the rails of the stairs to Peter’s building and the younger man curled his hands in fists, trying to control the urge to just run. “Long time no see, Petey-pie.”

He was paralyzed, muscles rigid, but to his own surprise, it wasn’t fear that he felt, or sadness. It was pure anger.

“I wonder why,” he answered quietly, but firmly. Beck’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, before the smile was back in place. “How did you find me?” He demanded, because Beck had never cared to ask where Peter was going to stay after he kicked him out, so how in the hell would he know where to find him?

“Wasn’t easy, I have been following you on Instagram, some of your morning run routes seemed familiar, so I–”

“You stalked me?” He frowned, taking a step closer to the other man, who looked at Peter with indignation and hurt. He shook his head, softened those baby blue eyes and placed one hand over his chest, right above where his heart would have been if he had one.

“I just wanted to see you, is all.” He shrugged, dropping his gaze to stare at his own feet, and Peter wanted to roll his eyes. It was so weird watching his whole act now that the spell had been lifted.

“What do you want?” He asked, making the older man’s head snap back up, a little surprised by his cold tone.

“I just told you, I wanted to see you. I missed you.” He took a few steps towards Peter, who in turn walked backwards to keep his distance

“You missed me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Where’s your new boy-toy, you put him away so you could come play with me?” He cocked his head to the side and, for a moment, he could see the shock crossing his features.

“Pete… Why are you acting like this, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore...” His voice broke and he looked away, pretending to wipe away a tear. He wondered how the hell he used to fall for that.

“You don’t, Quentin. I’m not a lost little boy anymore, you should go back to your boyfriend. Or is he smarter than me and dumped you already? Is that what this is all about?” He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, and Beck’s mouth hung open like he couldn’t believe his words.

“I made a mistake, Pete. After so many years, I took you for granted, I couldn’t see what I saw the first time I met you. I couldn’t see how beautiful you were, how caring and loving you were, how loyal and reliable and – I don’t know, I was blind. I was so stupid, I shouldn’t have left you.” His eyes were wide, earnest, shining with unshed tears. His face was open, even his body language screamed honesty. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad about falling for his act – Beck was good. “Don’t you miss me, baby? Don’t you miss us?”

Peter snorted, shaking his head, he couldn’t believe the nerve of that man.

“You made a mistake, huh? So you dumped your new boy, right? If I were to go home with you right now, he wouldn’t be there, waiting for you, like a fucking plan B, in case this doesn’t go your way. Right?” It was his turn to take a few steps towards the older man. “Like I was your plan B while you waited for him to turn 18?”

“Peter, c’mon–“

“Is he there, Beck? Just answer me that. Come on, if he’s not, I’ll take you back right now, we can go home together.” He insisted, looking into the older man’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just sighed. “Of course he is. If I said yes, what would you do? Tell him to pack his things in the middle of the night and leave? Would you keep all the money he’s made you and tell him to fuck off? Would you leave him broke and lonely and fucking lost in this world? Would you tell him that he wasn’t good enough and dispose of him like he’s fucking garbage?” His voice grew louder and louder, and when he came to himself, he noticed he was in Beck’s face, their chests almost touching, so he took a step back. “So to answer your question, Quentin, no, I don’t fucking miss you. You fucking ruined me!”

“I saved you!” And just like that, the good guy act was gone. His whole demeanor changed, the soft baby blues widened, his mouth was set in a sneer, he puffed out his chest to intimidate him, but Peter stood his ground. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember who you were before me. You were a fucking loser! An orphan, no family, no friends, no future! I took you in, I took care of you, I gave you a profession – don’t fucking roll your eyes, what the fuck are you doing now, huh? Rocket science? ‘Cause it seems to me like you’re still doing porn, and now you’re clearly branching out into prostitution, would you look at that!”

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!” He placed his hands on the man’s chest and pushed him away when he got too fucking close for comfort. He held his breath when he realized what he had done, afraid of the man’s reaction, but he just kept his distance.

“You know what? Fuck you, Peter. I was wrong about you, I thought I knew who you were, I thought I missed you, but you’re just a disgusting fucking whore, after all. You’re a dirty little bitch in heat who likes to get this loose hole of yours fucked by old perverts, I don’t know why I’m surprised, I mean, that’s why I dumped you, you were enjoying those videos a little bit too much for my taste. You weren’t even satisfied with two cocks up your ass, one in your mouth and a line of men waiting to fuck you. You disgust me.” He started walking away, and Peter wanted to say something, he wanted to yell at him and defend himself, he wanted to tell him he didn’t fucking enjoy it, he wanted to tell him that it was all his fault, he threw him to the lions, he let those men fucking–

Fuck!

He rushed inside the building and ran upstairs, eyes clouded with tears. He tripped and fell knees first on the steps, but he didn’t even feel pain, he just got up and kept going, kept running, trying to put as much distance between him and Beck as he could, even though it was irrational. Beck was gone, he walked away, he left him, he left him again, he wasn’t coming back–

“Ned?!” He knocked urgently on his friends’ door. He didn’t have his spare key, it was upstairs in his own apartment, but he couldn’t trust himself to go all the way up there and down again without having a full on panic attack. “MJ?! Are you guys home?!” He was really trying not to sound too desperate, he didn’t want to scare them, but it was hard controlling his emotions when his heart was hammering against his chest and he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Peter?” It was MJ who yanked the door open. She had a towel wrapped around her torso, her hair was wet, and Peter felt guilty, but she took one look at him and quickly pulled him into a hug. “My God, Peter...” She whispered into his hair when he started sobbing uncontrollably on her naked shoulder. “Come on in, c’mon.” He heard the door closing behind him, but he didn’t let go of her, he felt like if he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together.

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that she should go finish her shower and change, but he really, really needed her right then. She sat down on the couch, pulling him with her and he promptly laid down, burying his face in her legs. He couldn’t stop crying and sobbing and no matter how many times she asked him what was wrong, sounding increasingly more worried, he couldn’t get his feelings under control enough to give her any answer.

He was there for what felt like hours, when at some point someone lifted him from MJ’s lap and enveloped him in such a tight hug he couldn’t breath for a second, but he sighed in relief, it was right what he needed. Ned’s arms felt like home, it calmed him down almost instantly – his voice whispering that it was fine, everything was going to be okay helped a lot, too.

“I hate him, I hate him so fucking much,” he mumbled into his shoulder, God knew how much time later, and his friend just hummed, patting his back. “I hate that he made a mess of me and I let him.” He couldn’t hold back more tears when he said that, because it was true, it was so fucking true. He let Beck do whatever he wanted to him, he let him ruin his dreams, his future, his fucking personality, until he was nothing but a shell of what he used to be.

“I know, Peter, I know,” Ned soothed him, rubbing his back, even though he probably had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s okay now. You’re okay. It’s over”

“I made tea.” MJ’s quiet voice sounded somewhere from his right and when he turned to look at her, she was already dressed, wet hair up in a bun, with a mug in her hands, which she extended to him. He accepted it but didn’t dare to take a sip, he was positive that if he did, he would throw up, his stomach was all kinds of fucked up at that moment. “Peter, what happened? Did Star – uh, did your boyfriend do something? Did he hurt? ‘Cause I swear to God–” Just the mention of Tony being the cause of his distress made him sick, so he cut her off.

“Beck was here.” He sniffed, looking at the mug to avoid their eyes when he heard both of them gasping.

“Beck? Beck was here? Fucking Beck?” MJ screeched and he nodded.

“He was waiting for me outside.” He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather enough energy to have that conversation.

“What did he want?” Ned asked calmly, while MJ paced the floor, furious.

“I don’t know...” He shrugged, wrecking his brain to try and figure out what his motive was. “His channel got taken down a few weeks ago and he couldn’t get it back up. I heard he had to start over.” He hadn’t been watching that closely, but he knew something was wrong, even his Twitter and Instagram accounts kept getting taken down almost monthly, it was impossible he was making any money over the past few months. “He said he wanted to get back together, probably because he thinks us making up would be a big hit or whatever. I said no, of course. He didn’t like the answer.”

“Did he hurt you?!” MJ strode back to him until she was standing right in front of him, looking into his eyes. He was almost intimidated by her.

“No, he just… Said some pretty shitty things, is all,” he answered sheepishly, because he hated that that man could still make a mess of him with just a few hurtful words.

“Oh, dude. He’s just mad he’s lost control over you. Whatever he said, he just wanted to hurt you, it doesn’t mean anything.” Ned placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Peter rested his head against his, sighing.

“I know. He was always like that, you know,” he whispered, as flashes of memories crossed his mind. “When I didn’t bend to his wishes, when I didn’t do things his way, he fucking–“ He squeezed his eyes shut, furious, because he had fallen for that again. “He tries to charm me and when it doesn’t work, he attacks me. But the thing is, he really knows what to say to destroy me. It just sucks. But it’s fine. I just need a moment, I’ll be fine.” He sat up straight and looked both of his friends in the eyes.

“Yes, you will. You most certainly will.” Ned patted his shoulder one last time, getting up from the couch. “Why don’t you lie down for a second, huh? I’m making dinner, I’ll even try one of those recipes your mystery boyfriend taught you.” Just the mention of Tony made him breathe a little easier, even though he wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.

“Okay.” He nodded, smiling softly. MJ took Ned’s place on the couch and he lay down, placing his head on her legs, as she ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed contently and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He was close to drifting off when he heard Ned gasp.

“Oh my God,” He breathed quietly from the kitchen and both Peter and MJ looked at him curiously from over the back of the couch.

“What?” She didn’t look too worried, but Peter was concerned about how pale he was.

“Ned, what’s wrong?” He frowned, watching Ned’s horrified expression looking at his phone like it was a murder scene. He raised his eyes and gulped.

“Peter is trending on Twitter,” he whispered, after a while.

“What?!” They both hurried over to the kitchen counter, and the first thing Peter saw when he looked at his phone was a picture of him and Tony in his car, kissing. As Ned scrolled down, more pictures showed up, but not only that, clips of his old videos were all over Twitter, people knew his full name, his real name, and they were making all sorts of comments. Iron Man, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, sex worker, prostitute and porn were trending.

The room was completely silent for a whole minute, before MJ turned on the TV.

“… appear that Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and retired Avenger, was seen kissing a young man in his car earlier this evening. The person in the pictures seems to be one Peter Parker, a twenty-one year old porn actor, who is also said to work as a prostitute…”

Peter’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his vision blurred and he felt bile rising in his throat. He took a deep breath and got up from the couch, ears ringing, as he rushed to the front door. He heard his friends yelling something, but he couldn’t make out their words, and he just couldn’t deal with all that right then and there.

“I, uhm, I gotta go,” he called from over his shoulder, slamming the door shut on his way out.

As he ran upstairs, vision blurred by tears and chest hurting, begging for oxygen, he couldn’t help but remember his life fell apart in the winter. And fall would be over soon.

-x-

So... It appears that someone has lost the ability to write short chapters...

Anyways, only three more chapters to go! 🥳

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker @ whyisthisathingcb

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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photiniainsummer · 3 years ago

Text

Something Worth Celebrating

Rating: General Audiences (basically GenFic)

Summary: Dark admits he sort of, kind of has a birthday. And then he sort of, kind of asks you to throw him a party.

I know. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

(Basically a purely indulgent fic where Dark gets to be happy for 0.2 seconds. Yes, it's late, please forgive me, Mr. Darkiplier sir.)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 4906

Author’s Note: No warnings. Honestly just tooth-rotting tenderness. This is a super-late birthday 'present' for our favorite spooky ego that I just couldn't get out of my head. Also posted to AO3!

The thought strikes you in the midst of your weekly scan of Mark’s content. While Dark makes sure to check his uploads and social media presence moment-to-moment, you often join his weekly wrap-up review sessions as a second, fresh set of eyes. It’s usually a silent and uneventful affair, with Dark sitting at his desk and you to one side of it, both focused on the week’s batch of content as it projects on the opposite wall. Hooking up the projector was easier than hunching over Dark’s laptop, the two of you bunched together around the screen, and it usually meant you could catch and examine any irregularities with greater accuracy. Not that there had been any for months. Mark’s content has become suspiciously unsuspicious, with no odd shot changes in the middle of playthroughs, no sideways comments in food reviews… and so your mind has started wandering during your viewings.

It’s not that his content is boring. But it’s hard to enjoy Mark’s lighthearted commentary, really, knowing the man for what he is: a manipulative, body-snatching, undead creature bent on conquering the hearts and minds of the world. That kind of imposing terror makes it hard to kick back and enjoy him goofing through a new horror game.

And, yet, despite that same terror, it’s difficult to stay fully focused on the task at hand. Maybe it’s the lack of weirdness lulling you into being unobservant - maybe that’s Mark’s goal. Regardless, he makes a jokey comment, surprised by a new onslaught of enemies so soon after receiving a new weapon - “What, is it my birthday?” - and though he proceeds to casually mow down a fresh flood of zombies, your mind is nowhere near his running monologue. No, you’re off on a tangent of wonderings - When exactly is his birthday, anyway? Is it soon? Do the egos share his, or do they have their own, if they know it? When would they celebrate it, anyway? Did Mark build in birthdays for them when he summoned them up, or was it whatever day they were formed from some strange, shadowy process you still don’t know the specifics of? It’s a strange and vaguely sad thing to ponder, your mouth turning down at the corners as you roll it around in your mind. To your side, Dark sighs softly, reaching out to pause the current video. Mark’s face freezes in an unflattering expression, and you turn to look at the entity.

“What, think of something?”

“No,” he demurs, scrubbing the video back. “But you are distracted. What do you last remember?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is a little surprising. Where a few months ago he would have bitten off a sharp comment about your wandering attention, he just gives you a mild look when you don’t immediately respond, hands hovering at his computer. It speaks to how routine this has become for you both, how each of you has grown accustomed to the other - the ringing of his aura barely registers for you now, although you were certain when you arrived that investing in a lifetime supply of ibuprofen was a basic requirement for working in close proximity to Dark for any extended period of time.

That’s when the thought strikes you - you meandering thoughts crystallizing around his presence, centering on him. You have to wonder how much of your thought process Dark actually heard, if your idle thoughts are loud enough for him to pick up. But seeing as he’s not making any attempt to immediately answer, nor chide you for thinking about such unimportant things, the thought, as a question, easily tumbles out between you.

“Do you have a birthday?”

He immediately furrows his brow, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I said, do you have a birthday?” you repeat, committing to this line of questioning. You go so far as to turn slightly in your chair to look at him better, attention fully directed at him. Dark sighs and turns back to the computer, picking a spot in the video a couple of minutes ago, certainly farther back than necessary.

“I heard what you said,” he clarifies. “I am attempting to understand what could have possibly brought that up.”

“He said something about his birthday. It just got me thinking, that’s all.” Dark pauses, squinting his eyes ever so slightly at the screen. His cursor hovers over the playback bar, obviously considering his next move. You pause with him, then a smile tugs at your mouth. “You missed that, didn’t you.”

“I did not. It was merely an inane comment, so I did not take note of it.” He’s a little too indignant, too quick with that response, and it makes you laugh. He shoots you a patented glare, although it carries very little true malice. “When did he say that.”

“A couple minutes forward, it’s right after he gets that new gun.” Dark hums in response, clearly still miffed at having been successfully teased, but in a good-natured sort of way. You watch him scrub for the right spot, lulling back into a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what brought all this up and press on. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, come on. Do you have a birthday?”

“They had birthdays,” he remarks. You recall them, or, at least, a picture of them, the only one you’ve seen that isn’t a staged portrait. You like it better than the stiff, properly posed photographs Dark hesitantly showed you once, when he had finally explained his origins to you. In the one you preferred to remember, a well-dressed woman and man hug each other close as they smile warmly into the camera. It’s some holiday, or just an excuse to get together - there are garlands blurred in the background - and the woman is holding a fancy-looking drink in the hand that isn’t wrapped around behind her brother, tugging him into frame. He looks a bit put-upon, smiling almost embarrassedly as if the woman has cajoled him in front of the cameraperson into taking a picture with her. But his expression, for all it implies, is still warm. His body curls close to his sister, his hold on her obviously affectionate. The woman is beaming like she’s won, squeezing her brother close as her cheeks apple, her painted lips curled in such pride. Her eyes dance, catching the light of the camera’s flash. They look comfortable, happy, beautiful. Full of life. The woman’s smile had pulled one out of you, when you saw it.

Dark’s explanation of how he had come to be makes the memory all the sadder, the melancholia curling around your throat even as you remember it now.

“I, on the other hand, was not born,” he explains, and for a moment you begin to regret bringing it up. But the shadow-bathed man doesn’t seem bothered, his tone matter-of-fact, simple. You know it pains him still, you saw the look on his face as he described how he had come to be, how his aura had raged around him like he was going to pull apart. How their faces had appeared in agonized red and blue flashes behind him - now that you knew what you were looking for, you could see them as themselves, not just as Dark.

Which makes the fact he can say something that directly referential without threatening to rip through existence sort of comforting. Is he just comfortable with you, now, knowing that you know? Whatever it is, you decide it’s a good thing, and settle back in your chair. “Well, sure, not as such, but… do you celebrate theirs?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“I do not.” Dark finds the proper place in the video, advancing to it.

“So you don’t celebrate you… coming into being, on any particular day?”

“I do not.” You squint slightly.

“You don’t,” you repeat. Dark sighs once more, bringing a hand to his brow in the way he does when Wilford is being particularly taxing.

“No. I do not. But the… fans. Do.” It’s an answer given through gritted teeth - the man finds the celebration of him and his many appearances in Mark’s work frustrating, to put it simply. Of course, he’s completely committed to his role as the villain the actor dreamed of, and won’t lie and say he doesn’t find it utterly amusing how Mark’s own fans seem to like him more than the actor himself. But all that is tinged with the truth of his conscription into this role, the indignity of being painted as the wicked mirror image of the man who took everything from him. It is particularly insulting, particularly painful. So to have some false version of him celebrated and adored, is…

Well, to use his words: Disgusting.

You would go for complicated, instead. It does feels strange to have them celebrate a fictionalized version of the entity next to you, given the reality of the situation, but it’s not like you can fault them for what they don’t know. They’re caught up in Mark’s game - it isn’t their fault. Still, you aren’t really surprised they found a whole day to put aside for the man.

“What day did they pick?”

“Hm?” Dark seems caught up in some internal brooding, set off by the memories of the fanart he’s seen. You prod again.

“What day is it? That they made your ‘birthday’?”

He pauses a moment, considering. You can tell he knows, he’s just debating whether or not to tell you. Whether or not this will have unintended consequences. “June 19th. It was the first time Mark posted something… strange enough to be counted as my first ‘appearance.’ So it is my birthday, by their reckoning.” He pauses again. “I suppose it is as good a day as any. Although I do not understand it - why would someone want to celebrate my existence?”

His tone takes this bitter, harsh edge, and you instinctively want to cringe against it. But you also know how Dark hates you trying to be delicate with him. It’s better to be honest, to know his reactions are not for you, but for his situation. For Mark. So you suppress the desire to turn away from it, instead reaching across the bit of desk between you to touch his arm. He doesn’t react, apart from flicking his eyes to rest on your hand. Touching him like this, yours fades to take on the same black-and-white cast as his own.

“For what it’s worth, I’d want to celebrate it. I’m glad you’re here.” You squeeze him very gently, as if trying to impress that more fully into his mind. “And… they don’t really know you, but, I mean. I think they’d like you even more, want to celebrate you more, if they did.”

Dark is silent, gaze falling to a whorl of wood in his polished desk as he considers your words. He doesn’t immediately reply and you take your hand away, not wanting to be overly touchy-feely about the whole thing. Or, at least, you don’t want to be if that’s not what Dark wants. You’d be the first to console him, if you could, but it’s hard to get a read on what might help the man most. He lives in his head, unaccustomed to sharing much with the other egos, let alone someone who hasn’t directly been through what they have. Your position on the outside imposes a distance that even having worked so closely with him for so long hasn’t yet bridged. Still, you leave that door open for him whenever you gracefully can, whenever it doesn’t feel like you’re opening it to force him through.

You try show him he can walk through whenever he likes. If he likes.

The man shifts slightly, reaching out to adjust a small pile of papers. He puts them to rights, even though they’re already perfectly in line with each other. When he finally speaks, his voice is almost covered by its own deep echo.

“If I am honest, I meant more… why would they celebrate the man they see, the ‘Darkiplier’ in his works? He is not a good man, by any means. He tells the truth, Mark’s confidence in himself sees to that. But they do not know it. He seems to seek to trap the audience through lies, manipulation… I simply do not understand the appeal.” You feel a little caught out, wondering if you jumped a bit too eagerly on his statement as a chance to comfort him. “However…”

He stops, realizing he’s run out of papers to arrange, things to fidget with. Folding his colorless hands in front of him, he finally and intentionally turns to look your way. It’s a slow, steady motion, heavy with purpose. When you meet his intensely contrasted eyes, they fall gently on you. His expression is open, almost bare. Devoid of any bitterness, frustration - his usual armor.

“...it is incredibly kind of you to say that. About me. I. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The hesitancy in his voice, yet how honestly he continues on, intent on telling you this… It’s enough to break your heart. You give him a tender smile.

“You’re not exactly that man in those videos, Dark. Not the way he has you play it, know you well enough to tell that… But even if you were, you have reason enough for it, I’d wager.”

That gets you a wry smile from the man. “Enough reason to pull ourselves back from the dead?”

You laugh, softly. “Yeah, something like that.” At your mirth, the lines of his body begin to relax, and he eases back into his seat somewhat. It’s a rare sight, Dark letting himself relax, be still for a moment. Even his aura, ever-roiling, merely seems to ebb and flow around him in gentle pulses. His mouth stays gently turned up as he looks at nothing in particular, gaze easy on some middle distance. You can tell he’s thinking, even at minor peace like this, but has no real intention to speak again. Sensing the Big Heart-To-Heart Moment™ has passed, you sigh and look back over your sparse notes. “Should we get back to it, though? I totally derailed us.”

Dark pauses a bit longer in the moment before he idly waves a hand and reaches out to close the lid of his computer. “There is nothing interesting this week, really. I think we can call it there, unless you are especially invested in head-exploding physics.” You pull a face.

“Not particularly. I can finish going over it later, anyway. Just in case.” You stretch and twist in your chair with a sigh. “Think I’ll make some coffee - can I get you a cup?”

“Are you going to use the cafetiere?”

“No, I thought the Mr. Coffee would be better. Really gets it nice and watery, just like you like.” Dark scrunches up his nose in the most totally undignified way, and god that makes you belly-laugh, bending slightly over the desk to support yourself. It breaks him, getting a real smile to curl over his face. He can be such a goofball, when he wants to be. “Of course I was gonna use the cafetiere. Who do you take me for?”

“I have to check, I have had many a disappointing cup after agreeing too eagerly. But yes, I will take one, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” you hum, coming down from your laughing fit. You make your way out of his office but before you can turn the corner, Dark calls your name, stopping you in the doorway. You look back to him, and he seems… at ease. His hands are folded across his middle, he’s resting back in his desk chair. The ghost of a smile is still on his face. You try to bottle that moment, preserve it mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Again. And…” He hesitates for a beat, making some decision. “If you or the others would like to do something. On the day. My… sort-of birthday… I would not be opposed.”

You force your jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. Wilford will go ballistic. You don’t know if the mustachioed ego will be able to handle the thought of throwing Dark a real birthday party - he might just explode in a haze of confetti and glitter stars. Blinking, you right yourself, finding your head nodding before you even know what it’s doing.

“I. Y-Yeah! Sure, we. We could definitely do that. Do… something.” Dark just smiles a little more fully, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll. I’ll talk to them about it.”

Holy shit.

“Wonderful. It will be nice to have a reason to have a proper party. Something to celebrate. Don’t you think?” You’re nodding again, agreeing wholeheartedly, but dazedly, too. You don’t realize you’re just standing there sort of staring until Dark tilts his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is… coffee still happening?”

“Huh?” You remember. “Oh. Oh! Shi- I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yeah. I. Coffee, yes. I’m… gonna do that.”

As you beat a hasty and red-faced retreat to the kitchen, bursting with ideas, you can just make out the man giving the faintest, echoing chuckle.

---

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such pure excitement in the Manor before. The air is practically buzzing with pure, unbridled energy as you approach Dark’s office door. Downstairs, you can hear the egos making final preparations underneath Wilford’s speaking in an overly dramatic tone, giving some kind of grand speech. Likely a rallying of the troops into being on their best behavior for their de facto leader. You can’t help a smile and a shake of your head - maybe he’d take his own advice tonight.

Either way, everything is ready, so you rap on the birthday boy’s outer office door. He’d graciously locked himself away after retrieving his morning coffee so you would all have the space to prepare. Of course, he hadn’t escaped early-morning birthday wishes from you and the Host, nor a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers you two had collected for him. You’d even carried them up to his office for him, just so he wouldn’t have to touch them himself and risk draining their color. The memory of how sort of bashful he’d looked, the you really shouldn’t have energy that had rolled off him as he directed you to set them on his desk - it makes you grin in anticipation for this evening as he calls for you to enter, now.

He’s sitting by the fireplace, apparently killing time with a book which he looks up from as you enter. An inquiring look pulls his brow. “All prepared?”

“Oh yes. Your party awaits you, sir.” Dark huffs a laugh and rises, setting his book aside. He’s dressed a bit differently, still in slacks and a tie but with the addition of a waistcoat closely fit over his dress shirt, which is slightly rolled up over his forearms. Then he begins to fix them, going for his jacket, and you have to interject. “Are you really going to wear a full suit to your party?”

Dark stops, looking confused. And a little concerned. “I. Was intending to, yes.”

Oops. “I mean, you always wear a suit,” you chide as gently as you can. “They look nice, but the whole point is celebrating, relaxing a little? Besides, you look nice just like that.” Dark pauses, casting a look over himself. He absently adjusts his waistcoat, and you notice a thin chain connected to one of the buttons loops into one pocket. Has he always had a pocket watch?

“You are certain it is not too… casual.” He almost sounds worried, the poor thing. You give him a reassuring smile as you approach, picking up his jacket and folding it with care before hanging it over your arm.

“I’ll bring it down, but I think you’ll be more comfortable like that. Though you aren’t totally dressed, yet.” The man gives you an utterly baffled look, and you grin in response, bringing out a brightly colored party hat. His look sours immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No. I am already being made to go down undressed, I will not go with bells on.”

Sometimes you forget he’s just a grumpy grandpa. You pull out the big guns. “Well… we’re all wearing them,” you hum, your own firmly in place. “Besides, Wilford insisted. And he’s the Decoration Czar. Self-proclaimed, but he rules with an iron fist.” Dark makes a valiant effort to hold onto his resolve, but it weakens in the face of you invoking the mustachioed man. With a soft, amorphous grumble, he pulls the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

Now that you understand a little more about how Dark and Wilford had come to be, their bond makes a lot more sense, even for all Dark’s frustrated looks shot the more light-hearted man’s way in the midst of meetings. Even before you knew the depth of their bond, Dark had always seemed surprisingly willing to go along with Wilford’s more doable requests, less inclined to irritatedly snip at him for his foolishness. As Dark adjusts his party hat in a nearby mirror (making sure his well-coiffed hair isn’t too disturbed by his headwear), you’re glad that, although Wilford may not fully be aware of it, the two of them have each other.

He drops his hands with a sigh. “I look ridiculous.” He’s positioned the cone-shaped hat directly pointing up in the middle of his head, and. Well. It looks way too proper, but very Dark all at once. You chuckle, coming close to help.

“You should see the den. It’s a wreck,” you tease, reaching for his hat, giving the man enough time to wave you off. But he doesn’t, just watching you in the mirror as you adjust it (careful of his curls) to a more jaunty angle. His aura has already absorbed the color from it, but it looks party-appropriate. More importantly, Dark seems a bit more at ease as he gets used to how it looks. You wonder if he’s ever worn a party hat in his life. “There, much better.”

“Hm. Then I suppose I am ready.”

“As you’ll ever be. C’mon, they’re all waiting.” When he turns from the mirror, you playfully offer him your arm. You think you’ll get an eyeroll, a dismissive but amused huff at best. You aren’t anticipating him looping his arm in yours and giving you this little smile that warms his eyes and has you pulling up short. He chuckles somewhat at your reaction, your lack of movement.

“I thought I was being escorted.”

“Uh. You. You are, oh, you definitely are, hold on to your socks, you’re about to experience the best escorting of your life.” Dark’s free hand comes up to help suppress the grin that threatens to split his face as you lead him from the office and down to the almost overwhelmingly decorated den. While the room is comfortably illuminated by a variety of the Manor’s most colorful lamps, the light is somewhat low and catches on the sparkling garlands heavily draped on the walls. Matching balloons bob at varying intervals and a rousing cheer goes up as you and Dark enter, a flood of grins turning your way. Music cuts on - something upbeat and jazzy - and the flock of egos quickly descends on the object of celebration, Wilford leading the charge and pressing a drink into the man’s hand after a massive bear hug. You release Dark’s arm to let the crowd of other egos at him, covering him in birthday wishes and affectionate pats on the back (their boldness inspired by Wilford, no doubt), before eagerly showing off all their preparations.

While Yancy explains the variety of possible games he’s worked up, getting a horribly wry grin out of the shadowy man at his creation of ‘pin the cravat on the Actor,’ you step back a bit to make sure Dark’s suit jacket is safely out of the way of the night’s oncoming revelry. Clearly, he’s already forgotten it, much to your pleasure. The bar is lined up with a few drink options, pre-made cocktails and bottles of wine opened to breathe, a number of elegantly arranged finger foods courtesy of resident chef Google Alpha. Carefully, you tuck Dark’s jacket under the bar in an empty shelf and before scooping up a drink of your own and tossing yourself back into the fray.

It goes a lot more smoothly than you had anticipated - everyone quickly falls into comfortable conversation, dipping into the snacks and games when it lulls. Wilford manages to keep his pants on despite threatening to provide a different kind of ‘entertainment’ at one point (and in spite of encouraging whistles from Bing and the Jims, who are quick to shove a camera in Wil’s direction). Further, Dark survives having ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to him, even blowing out the single candle in the middle of the complicated-looking tiramisu Alpha crafted.

It’s a rousing success, by all measures.

By the time you finally get a chance to sidle back up to Dark, the easy hum of the party has kicked up to a bit more of an excitable buzz as the jazz records have turned more and more swinging. Yandere and Illinois clearly know what they’re doing, beating a quick step around the open dance floor and grinning like bandits as Yancy does his best to help poor Eric get over the hurdle of not staring at your feet when you dance. The Manor feels more full than it usually does, with all of you crowded in the one room together, and you can see the warm, pure energy of it all is having a similar effect on Dark as it is on you - you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so much, small as they are.

Another thought hits you, even better than the one that prompted this whole affair. Grinning, you quickly gesture over the nearest Google. With the music like it is, it’s hard to speak over the ruckus, but you mime taking a picture and Green gets the idea, his glasses getting a particular sheen to them so you know he’s flipping through his interface. Once he gives you a thumbs up, you gently tug Dark down by the arm and gesture in Green’s direction. “Say ‘cheese,’” you prompt, and the shadowy man pulls a face.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, just one, Dark, c’mon,” you poke. “He’s set up and everything.” With a sort of resigned huff, the man twists and gets his free arm around you, hand resting carefully on your back as you get yours around him, bringing him in closer.

Then, almost in your ear, you hear his very dour voice say, “Cheese...” and it breaks you. You’re busting out laughing, forcing yourself not to double over or spill your drink, and over the music and your own laughter, you can hear Dark chuckling, the subsequent snap of Green’s camera feature. The latter catches the most attention, the gathered egos coming running as soon as they realize pictures are happening.

Suddenly, everyone wants in, smushing in as close as they can get to you and Dark, bickering when elbows ‘accidentally’ find soft sides and someone worms in front of someone else, Green taking pictures all the while of the ensuing chaos. Dark’s aura is starting to rouse from its relatively peaceful state when you decide it’s gone on long enough. You quickly clap and break up the worst of the infighting, getting folks arranged as best you can. By the time you finish and most everyone is settled, Dark is wearing a very betrayed look and Wilford’s heavy arm, which is hugging him quite close to his side. With a playful shrug, you pick your way back to your spot.

“I thought you said one,” he grumps softly even as you both get your arms situated comfortably around the other.

“You believed me?” His eyes get a bit wide - you trick Dark? You trick him into photograph like the child? - but you turn away with a triumphant smile. “Green, set your glasses on the bar, get in!”

The android quickly obliges, setting the timer and sliding in among his copies as he counts you down. “Okay,” you call, “everyone say ‘Darkling!’”

The cacophony of laughter and broken-up attempts at the word is something you’ll never forget.

---

Google sends you the photos the next morning, as the Manor collectively attempts to nurse minor to severe hangovers. Flipping through and marking the best ones to print and frame, you get to see the first one of the two of you.

In it, you’re hugging each other close, smiling warmly into the camera. There are garlands blurred in the background and you’re holding a fancy drink, tugging Dark into frame. That slightly embarrassed tinge is gone from his smile, but he still looks cajoled, still smiles as affectionately as he ever has. There’s no doubt he’s changed - the photo warps to try to capture his existence, red and blue fragments breaking up the image - but his expression is still warm. And you look so pleased with yourself, so amused, eyes dancing with success and joy.

Full of life.

It pulls a smile out of you.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #darkiplier #ego fanfiction #happy birthday mister man light of my life #sorry it is late i was a pile of mental goop after exams #mad market pliers ramblings #fanfiction

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inkedstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Bittersweet: Chapter Twelve

Summary: With the New Year comes new changes: Azriel and Elain are now together, Nesta and Cassian have a moment, and someone new enters the mix. Notes: This was the longest I've gone without posting new content, but I'm back in the groove. I'm officially making Sundays my upload day, so look out for that! There will be a new chapter every week. I already have the next couple chapters written, and it will be a lot more consistent now. Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief mentions of PTSD and sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

January

It was the third week of the desolate, grey month of January. The snow arrived quickly and ruthlessly. The city of Boulder was coated in a thick layer of knee-deep snow, its surface glittering under the sun enough to blind a passerby. Nesta embraced the winter, but there was nothing more she hated than a frozen ground paired with a sunny sky. Going outside bundled in multiple layers only to return home a sweaty mess. It was a suffocating feeling, to be wearing a heavy coat under sunshine.

No, Nesta preferred the unforgiving version of the coldest season. She knew how to dress; she knew what to expect when she stepped outside. It was predictable. Easy.

With the New Year came new changes. To start, Elain and Azriel were now dating, which came as a surprise to no one. When Elain sidled up next to Nesta in the kitchen on New Year’s Day and bashfully told her that she and Azriel were officially together, Nesta just levelled her a look as if to say, No shit, Sherlock.

As much as she despised the fact that their lives were becoming inextricably connected with Feyre's little group, however, Nesta was happy for her sister. Azriel treated Elain like she walked on water. of course, in Nesta's mind, no one would ever be good enough for her sister. Azriel was just managing to wiggle his way over Nesta's impossibly high standards for Elain, the bastard.

He had been spending time at their apartment quite a bit. At first, he and Nesta didn’t speak much. They would both stare at their phones in silence when Elain went to the bathroom or checked on whatever was in the oven at the time.

It wasn’t until the day that Nesta returned home from work to see Azriel playing with Minx in the living room did they 'bond.' When Nesta made her way into the apartment, Azriel explained to her that Elain was switching over the laundry in the complex’s basement. She merely nodded, her piercing stare falling to Azriel's ankles where Minx was rubbing against. She could hear his purrs from where she stood. The fucking traitor.

Nesta watched them play before they began to talk about animals, which turned into shitting on Cassian (Azriel was most certainly joking, but Nesta’s jabs were 100% genuine), which then turned into complaining about the frequency of their little family dinners. Turns out Azriel isn't exactly a social butterfly but Nesta figured that out pretty quickly. When Elain returned with laundry basket in hand, she found Nesta showing off the tricks she’d taught Minx to Azriel, the latter of whom was quite impressed. And that’s how Nesta realized that she and Azriel had more in common than she would've guessed. They both preferred to be in the background, not drawing too much attention to themselves. To Nesta's delight, she also realized Azriel had just as sharp a tongue as she did. The only difference was he knew how to control himself. Although Nesta would never admit it, she could learn a thing or two from Azriel.

But all this was heavily dampened by the fact that Cassian kept worming his way into her life. She supposed it was normal to run into your neighbors, but she had a sneaking suspicion the man somehow memorized her entire schedule. Wherever she turned, he seemed to be there. The elevator was like their rendezvous spot. Nesta was tempted to take the staircase just to avoid him, but her stubborn ass refused to change a thing for him. Even if it was just two flights of stairs.

Cassian had caught her several times in the past weeks. She thought back to a few run-ins that she hadn’t managed to stop thinking about.

“It’s full,” Nesta said dryly, not bothering to look up from her phone. She knew who it was. Who else would go out of their way to enjoy her warm and welcoming presence?

Nesta was just getting back from a short shift she'd picked up at Rita’s. The elevator doors had been closing when Cassian’s foot shot out to stop them.

Cassian looked around at the empty elevator, his eyes finally landing on Nesta. “I think I can squeeze in.”

Nesta looked up from her phone to glare at him. He was wearing a maroon crew neck and medium wash jeans that were rolled up at the ankles. She spied a golden chain around his neck that just slightly peaked out of the sweater. She wondered if it was a cross. Was he religious?

Nesta caught herself before she could think more about it. She didn’t care; she had no interest in getting to know this man. And she knew the feeling was mutual.

She just cleared her throat and looked down at her phone once again, determined to ignore his presence.

Unfortunately, Cassian was just as determined to make his presence known.

Eyes glued to her screen, Nesta did her best to stay as still as possible as she felt Cassian walk into the elevator. She was standing at the back corner, practically a part of the wall herself. Instead of stopping where there was plenty of room, however, he kept walking until he was right next to her. He leaned back against the wall, and Nesta caught a whiff of his cologne. It was warm and fresh and purely male.

She clenched her fist. He smelled good.

She hated that he smelled good.

"Calculating something?" he asked quietly. Nesta detected the amusement in his voice and restrained herself from putting him in a chokehold.

But she followed his gaze that was looking at her phone screen. Brows furrowed, she too looked at the screen.

Fuck.

Nesta hadn't even realized she'd been staring at the calculator app this entire time. When Cassian had gotten into the elevator, she'd opened a random app, a last-ditch attempt at looking busy so he wouldn’t bother her. That plan had clearly failed.

And with her shit luck, she opened the fucking calculator app.

"Yep," she cleared her throat again, scrambling for something to say. "Just figuring out how much it would cost to hire a bodyguard. You see, I have this stalker -"

"Is he handsome?" Cassian feigned ignorance, his lips twitching upward.

Nesta gritted her teeth at his interruption. "No, he's actually - "

"Charming, rugged, good-looking?" Cassian ran his eyes up and down her body and whistled in astonishment. "Wow, you must really like this guy."

She was going to punch him in the gods-damn throat. “You’re an asshole.”

He just stood there smiling at himself, eyes sparkling with mischief. His dark hair was loose, falling at his shoulders. It looked as though he’d been running his hands through it all day. Nesta’s fingers twitched.

She could acknowledge that Cassian was a good-looking man. She wasn't blind, though she would never admit that to him. His head was big enough as is. That being said, there was no appeal beyond his thick hair and fit body. It was a shame, really. Not to mention that Nesta was unable to look at a man with anything other than cynicism after everything that happened with Tomas.

Nesta stopped herself. She didn't need to think about that right now.

Coming back to reality, Nesta realized she'd been blatantly staring at Cassian this entire time, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. He chuckled deeply and angled his body so he was fully facing her. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Nesta crossed her arms and snorted. Classy.

“Unfortunately for you, my appetite for arrogant meatheads dissipated during college.”

“Oh?” Cassian repeated with a smirk that Nesta wanted to slap right off. “And pray tell, what’s on your menu now?”

“Just the sweet satisfaction of destroying a man’s masculinity.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back with laughter. Nesta rolled her eyes just as the elevator dinged. She took the opportunity and quickly raced for the doors.

He was still laughing when the doors closed.

Nesta inwardly groaned at the memory. She’d acted like a dolt, but at least she’d gotten the last word in.

The next time they bumped into each other, however, things weren’t quite as playful.

Nesta couldn’t sleep. She’d been tossing and turning for hours, Minx shooting her glares every time she moved. But sleep refused to come.

With a frustrated groan, she rolled to the side of the bed and checked her phone that was charging on her nightstand.

3:38am.

Fucking ridiculous.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. She’d been having nightmares nearly every night for the past few weeks, only managing to get about four hours of sleep at most. It was enough that she could function during the day and go to work without passing out. Nevertheless, it was exhausting.

She did her best to untangle herself from the comforter and get up without waking Minx. He was sleeping at the foot of the bed, his entire body stretched out like dough. As she got up, she gave him some love. He didn’t even budge; he was a heavy sleeper.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Rubbing her face, she padded out to the kitchen slowly and poured herself a glass of water. She drank it slowly as she leaned against the counter.

After fifteen of staring into space, Nesta made her way to the fridge and opened it, the soft light glowing on her face.

She stared into the fridge for another ten minutes.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta slowly padded back to her room and closed the door behind her. She lazily pulled her long hair into a messy updo. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her laundry bin. It was overflowing.

She checked the time again. 4:17am.

Fuck it, she thought to herself as she bent down to pick up the laundry basket.

Nesta heaved it into her arms, grabbed the detergent, and made her way down to the complex’s basement where the laundry room was. She was wearing a grey sweater that completely swallowed her body and baggy sweatpants. Her slippers were cat themed. She couldn't care less.

After dumping her dirty clothes into the washing machine and starting it, Nesta sat on top of the empty machine to the left of it. She crossed her legs in her lap and put her hands in her face.

Gods, when was this going to end?

She would almost prefer a nightmare over this. It was the silence that was insufferable. With nightmares, she woke up, stayed awake for a couple hours, and finally fell asleep once her body calmed. But this? She didn’t trust herself to be alone with her thoughts for the entire night. It was never a good thing.

She was just sick of it. The exhaustion, the darkness, the loneliness. Her father’s death still gnawed at her every day. She hadn’t summoned the bravery to read those damn journals. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she’d ever be.

And then Tomas. That horrible memory still surfaced several times a day. She couldn’t shake it; she never felt safe, even when she was in her bedroom. She hated it. Hated the lack of control, the loss of strength. She felt powerless. And without that, what did she even have?

The sound of footsteps disrupted her from her thoughts. Her head shot up as a body filled the doorway to the laundry room. It was Cassian.

He, too, looked like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He looked comfortable in his Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and dark joggers. In his hand was a dryer sheet.

He stared at her. She stared back.

Neither of them said anything as he walked over to the washing machine to the right of the one her clothes were in. Nesta watched with half-lidded eyes as Cassian switched over his load of laundry to the dryer, swiping his card to pay for the cycle.

Once his clothes were tumbling around in the dryer, he straightened and faced her where she sat.

Nesta couldn't put her finger on it, but he seemed different. Not because it was the middle of the night and he was tired. No, there was something else. She just didn't know what.

“Can’t sleep?” he broke the silence, voice rough with exhaustion.

Nesta pursed her lips and nodded, looking away. She expelled a shaky breath. “You?”

Cassian seemed slightly taken aback by her question, but he hid it well. He took a few steps closer. There were still a couple feet between them, but now he was standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets.

“Me neither," he murmured, his hazel eyes capturing her grey ones. "Sometimes I don't even bother trying anymore."

They both got quiet. Nesta didn’t know what to say; his vulnerability scared her.

It was strange. To have a conversation with Cassian without banter, without insults being thrown back and forth. Nesta didn’t know what to think of it.

"I could be deported any day," he admitted, so quietly that Nesta almost didn't hear. Then he added, his voice breaking slightly, "I don't want to go."

Nesta watched him as he looked to the dirty tiles of the laundry room floor. Her lips parted slightly and before she realized what she was doing, she was talking.

"I have nightmares every night. Today was the first time in two months I haven't had one. A strange part of me would rather have horrible dreams instead of this silence... and that scares me."

Cassian was staring at her now, his eyes flaring. He looked like he wanted to move closer, but he remained where he stood. He simply nodded at the piece of herself she'd just shared with him.

I see you, is what he seemed to wordlessly say to her.

A strange feeling of deja vu washed over Nesta as they looked at each other. She couldn't place it, but this - talking with Cassian - felt familiar, like it had happened -

The washing machine next to Nesta dinged, signaling that her clothes had finished. She pulled her gaze from Cassian's and hopped off to switch her clothes over.

Cassian merely watched. Then, they both waited in a comfortable silence until their laundry finished drying. Cassian's finished first, but he waited until Nesta's did to walk her back up. They didn't share a word, but something intangible transpired between them.

And even though Nesta still wasn't able to fall asleep, the silence felt a bit less scary the rest of the night.

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

“Are you excited for the semester to start next week?”

Nesta froze from where she stood washing the dishes when Elain posed the question.

Next week? That couldn’t be right. Nesta counted off the days in her head.

To her horror, Elain was correct.

It was nearing the end of January. She knew she’d had to return to Pryth U after winter break, but Nesta thought she’d have longer. Longer to get over what had happened, to figure out how exactly to avoid him on campus. She thought by now… she thought she wouldn’t be scared anymore.

She was wrong.

“Nesta?”

Nesta peeled her eyes away from the soapy knife that she was clutching tightly in her hand to find Elain peering over at her with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” Nesta forced out, despite every fiber of her body screaming otherwise. “Can’t wait.”

She continued throughout the morning as normal as she could be, even though she was shaking. When noon hit, Nesta called out to Elain who was lounging in the living room waiting for Azriel to come over.

"I'm think I’m going to go to the gym." She willed her voice not to shake.

"Okay, have fun!" Elain exclaimed from the other room.

Nesta had purchased a gym membership to Illyria last week, a pathetic effort at getting out of the apartment more often. She hadn't gone once yet. And either way, her only real plan was to use the hot tub. She couldn't remember the last time she exercised, and she had no intention of changing that.

After getting dressed and grabbing her bag, Nesta headed out.

The drive was quick; the gym was only a couple miles away. Once Nesta parked, she made her way inside the complex.

She forced a tight smile as she approached the woman who was working the front desk, scanning her membership card and continuing forward. Her mind was racing, and she prayed that there wouldn't be many people there. It was a Tuesday afternoon. She doubted it.

Nesta was weaving her way past the space dedicated to boxing to get to the locker rooms when she heard a familiar voice ahead of her.

She instinctively turned her head to see who it was, only to find Cassian standing next to a punching bag, his face breaking out into a grin as he talked to a very beautiful woman.

She was small, several inches shorter than Nesta. Her copper chestnut hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail, and her hands were on her hips as she attentively listened to Cassian speak. She seemed captivated by whatever he was saying, probably some bullshit meant to charm her.

Nesta didn't think twice as she discreetly did a 180 and started walking the opposite way, desperate to avoid him especially after the night in the laundry room. That'd been the last time she'd seen him, and she didn't want to talk about it. Not with him or anyone else. Even though she'd opened up to him, that didn't mean they were friendly. In fact, it was the complete opposite. She was determined to keep him at arm's length now. Nesta had cursed herself the morning after those events had transpired. She was so stupid to tell him what she did. It was just because she had been severely sleep-deprived, and she had felt bad for him. It wouldn't happen again.

So, she slowly slinked away, praying to the Gods that he didn't notice her.

Her plan was going smoothly until she heard her name.

"Nesta?"

Her shoulders stiffened. Fuck.

She brought herself to a painstaking stop and turned around to see Cassian jogging over to her.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached. He seemed cautious, like he didn't want to scare her off. "I didn't realize you went to Illyria."

"I don't," Nesta replied quickly. He waited for her to say more, but she just blinked up at him.

"Well," he drawled, looking back at the woman he had been talking with. "I'm just about to start a training session." Ah, he works here. She wondered what he did in his free time. "Do you want to join? The first session is free."

Nesta looked to where the woman was methodically wrapping her hands in what looked like Ace bandages. She was more stunning than Nesta originally thought. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Cassian hooked up with his trainees. Especially if they looked like that.

"No, I'm - "

But Cassian wasn't having it. "Gwyn!" he called out, gesturing her to come to where they stood.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nesta hissed, her heart rate spiking as she watched the woman, Gwyn, make her way toward them.

Cassian ignored her, continuing to smile. The bastard.

As Gwyn made her way over, Nesta did her best to put on a friendly face. She was pretty sure she was just grimacing.

"Hi! I'm Gwyn," she introduced herself with a bubbly voice. She looked Nesta up and down. "You must be Nesta. I've heard a lot about you."

Nesta threw Cassian a sideway glare. He'd been talking about her? No doubt complaining about her horrible attitude.

Cassian winked at the look she gave him before turning to Gwyn. "Gwyn, why don't you tell Nesta a little bit about what we do while I go get some equipment from the back? Then we can get started."

Nesta opened her mouth to object, but Cassian was gone before she could even blink. Groaning inwardly, she reluctantly faced Gwyn who was smiling softly at her.

"Well, I assume you know that Cassian is a trainer," she started with an awkward laugh.

Nesta stared at her.

Gwyn continued to smile despite Nesta's coldness. "He actually created this program, Wings of Resilience, a couple years ago. He offers discounted training lessons for people who deal with PTSD. It's helped a lot of people. Cassian mainly teaches kickboxing, but in the past he's taken in some older veterans who aren't really able to do high cardio activities, so he guides them through yoga practices. Everyone here adores him," Gwyn giggles and leans in. "Especially the older ladies who come in every week for their exercise class."

She kept talking, but Nesta was no longer listening. The room suddenly felt tiny, the air stifling. What Gwyn told her triggered her fight or flight instincts. She didn’t know why, she just knew she couldn’t breathe, and if she didn’t leave now, she was going to have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a room full of people.

“Are you okay?”

Nesta’s eyes shot up from her shaking hands to see Gwyn take a cautious step forward, her eyes wide with something that resembled concern. Nesta nearly let out a hysterical laugh. Gwyn and Cassian - they were such good people. How did they even pretend to give a shit about someone like Nesta?

"I-I need to go,” Nesta blurted, eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit.

"I know it's a lot to consider," Gwyn said quietly. She looked down at her feet. "But it's really helped me."

No, no, no.

Nesta didn't even realize she had started running until her lungs were burning from the exertion of energy. She ran and didn’t stop. She caught a flash of someone – Cassian’s – face as she sprinted past the lobby and outside, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

The cold air was harsh against her lungs. She welcomed the burning sensation, gasping for more oxygen. Before Nesta could comprehend what was happening, she was spilling her guts on the sidewalk until she was dry heaving.

Passersby looked at her with disgust as they walked past, but Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care.

When there was nothing more to come out, Nesta wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened herself. Every muscle in her body screamed. How she was able to stand, she had no idea. Nesta beelined to her car, locked the door, and speeded out of the parking lot before anyone could run after her.

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

That night, Nesta received a text from an unknown number.

Nesta, I asked Cassian for your phone number. I hope I didn’t overstep your boundaries. I just wanted to let you know that there will be a spot here if you want it. Please think about it. Gwyn

Her first instinct was to delete the text, cancel her membership to Illyria, and never face Gwyn - or Cassian for that matter - again. There was no way she was going to show her face in that gym again.

But despite everything, Nesta found herself saving Gwyn’s number into her contacts before she fell asleep.

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

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @stardelia @sayosdreams @maastrash @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @ireallyshouldsleeprn @thewayshedreamed @booksstorm @laylaameer01 @rainbowcheetah512

#nessian #bittersweet #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #my writing

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shishquahcustardtree · 3 years ago

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Guess who just posted fic 10,992 under the Dean Winchester & Castiel tag! We are so damm close!

Anyway, the first chapter of my newest Destiel fic, ‘Hold On, Hold On To My Heart’ is now uploaded on AO3 and the remaining chapters will be put up every Tuesday/Wednesday.

Summary: Dean Winchester is now living alone for the first time in his life and with no Sam, it feels like he is all alone with nothing to live for. Picking up his long forgotten guitar one day, Dean plays. Little does he know, his new neighbour is listening in through their very thin, shared apartment wall.

Tags and Ratings: Teen and up, depressed Dean, eventual fluff, happy ending, musician Dean and Castiel, guitarist Dean, pianist Cas, mechanic Dean, music, drinking

Chapter 1 under the cut!

FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE (BRIGHT EYES)

The furniture moving around next-door grates on Dean’s nerves, as do the deep rumble of voices that carry through the paper-thin wall and into Dean’s apartment.

His apartment, which has been all too quiet lately.

It didn’t used to be, not by a long shot, not when Sam was still living with him. His little brother would come home and bring his own little ball of sunshine with him, barrelling through the door and brightening everyone’s lives.

Brightening Deans life.

But then he met someone. Dean’s not saying that he’s unhappy for him, he definitely is, but… When he finally spoke to Dean about moving out of their shared apartment to go live with his girlfriend, well, that sunshine followed him.

Most nights Dean sits in his small apartment nursing a whiskey or two and replays that conversation over and over in his head. Trying to think of any way that it could have gone different. If there was any way he could have convinced Sam to stay.

His little brother had come home and sat him down at their kitchen table, turning the volume down on Bright Eyes’ First Day Of My Life playing on the radio, saying those words that everyone dreads to hear.

“Dean, we need to talk.”

“About what Sammy?”

“Well…” he began, wringing his hands, “well here’s the thing, Jess and I have been talking, and I- we want to get our own place.”

Dean felt as though his whole world narrowed down to those words. Those words that he knew had been coming for some time.

“… What?”

“We want to move in together. We want a place that is big enough for the both of us and if we really want to progress with our relationship” - at this Dean remembers, Sam’s cheeks had blushed, reminding Dean of how Sam’s face looked the first time he had brought Jessica home for him to meet - “then we need to actually take these steps.”

Looking down and away, Dean tried to get words to come back to him. But it was as if they had deserted him.

“We have only had each other for so long Dean, but I want this. And… I know that this will be good for you too.”

At this, Dean’s head snapped up, looking at him in confusion.

“Oh, stop that Dean, you know damm well what I mean. Your only friends are the people you work with, and you never bring anyone home. When was the last time you were in a relationship huh?”

“Yeah yeah, I get it alright.”

“Dean, I love Jessica. I want to marry her someday. And I’m not saying that I'm leaving you dumbass, I can see what your face is doing. But we need this, all of us.”

So yeah, the insistent pushing and pulling and scraping of furniture next door makes Dean want to bash his head in. It reminds him of how he helped Sam do the exact same thing with all of his furniture and how there is now an empty bedroom next to his. How there is quiet space where it never was before.

And it hurts.

#destiel #Dean Winchester #Castiel #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #AO3 #Shishquahs writing #musician Dean #musician Cas #spn #Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Hold on hold on to my heart

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a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan · 4 years ago

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LinkedUniverse Fanfiction Ch. 17: Swords, Shields, Arrows

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name–Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story–I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now Chapter 19: Please, Don't Scare the Customers

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

In this continuation of my @linkeduniverse fan narrative, Wild and Four go on their own errand to find weapons to replace the resident amnesiac's busted sword and unwieldy Stalfos shield.

Word Count: 1482

Twilight and Wind had already left Madame Viliafore’s shop by the time Four and Wild had located an armorer. The town of Selggog was even busier in the late morning than it had been the previous evening. The sights and smells bombarded the two young heroes. Wild glanced down at his companion. The Hero of the Four Sword had to walk more briskly to keep pace with him, on account of him being a good deal shorter.

Four had planned to help Wild pick out new weapons once they had found an armorer. That was the main reason Warriors sent the two together. The moment they’d entered the store, however, Wild gravitated toward the higher-end swords. He picked a sword, tossed it between his hands, twirled it, shook his head, and chose a different one.

Four looked at the shopkeeper as Wild repeated this routine. The burly man behind the counter eyed the young knight warily. Four guessed his customers didn’t often test his weapons inside the store, if at all. Wild slowed his motions. He grasped the hilt of the sword he had been swinging with both hands, lowering it from above his head. When his hands were at waist-height, he stood still a moment. He took a deep breath.

The shorter of the Links watched in anticipation. The taller released his left hand’s grip and picked up the sword’s scabbard, then fit the blade easily into its place. He looked at Four and nodded. He strode to the shields, grasped an iron heater shield about half his height, fitted it on his left arm, and shook it a few times. He shook his head and tried a few more.

Wild stared at one shield for a moment before tilting his head to one side. He suddenly took off at a jog toward the opposite wall. He jumped, threw the shield to the ground, landed on it, and skidded a meter before he hopped off again. The shopkeeper had had enough. “Hey!” he growled, crossing his arms. “This isn’t a soldier’s barracks, kid. You’re scaring my customers!”

The young hero picked up the shield and checked the face of it for scratches. Content to find none, he faced Four and nodded again. Then he cast a glance around the shop. The Links were the only customers to be seen. The two of them exchanged a quizzical look. Wild turned to the shopkeeper. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “I’ve found what I want.”

The Links strode to the counter. Four passed a shelf with bundles of ten arrows each. He grabbed all fifteen of them. They placed their selection before the shopkeeper. The man scrutinized them. “What are two kids like you going to do with a knight’s weapons and my entire stock of arrows?” he asked.

Four looked up and stared the man in the eyes. He knew he was only fifteen but still didn’t like being called a kid. “There are actually nine of us,” he explained with a very slight edge to his voice. “We’re travelling a long way. Between monsters and bandits, the roads are dangerous.”

A few seconds passed before the shopkeeper cracked a grin and let out a bout of hearty laughter. Before either Link could recover from his confusion, the man planted his palms on the counter and continued. “Hell, whatever you say. So long as you’ve got the rupees, you’ve got the weapons. Let’s see… two hundred for the sword, three hundred for the shield, and three-sixty for the arrows… that comes out to eight hundred sixty.”

The Links winced at the number. Four shot a glare at Wild. Wild shrugged. He didn’t want to show how embarrassed he was that they were dropping five hundred rupees just because he needed new weapons. Thinking back to his conversation with Sky and Hyrule the previous night, he decided to try haggling. The young knight imitated Hyrule and put a forearm on the counter. He looked the man in the eyes. “Four hundred,” he declared boldly. Four saw the mistake immediately and shook his head.

The shopkeeper laughed even harder than before. Wild’s half-baked cocky expression faded. “Oh, boy,” the man said when he calmed down, “I know what you’re trying here, kid. Word of advice, huh? Never insult someone by offering less than half the starting price.”

Wild gulped. “I… um…”

“Save your breath, I can tell you have no clue what you’re doing. Let’s say seven hundred and call it even.”

Eager to avoid any more awkwardness, Wild just nodded. Four opened his wallet and withdrew three silver rupees, four purple, seven red, nine blue, and fifteen green. After placing them on the counter, he looked back in his wallet to find it almost empty. He sighed then stuffed the arrows in his pouch. Wild grabbed his weapons and the young adventurers went to leave the store. Four shot off a quick “thank you” before the door closed behind them.

Wild quickly fastened his new sword and shield to his baldric. “Right,” he started, “now to the café.”

Four sighed again. “You’re lucky that guy’s well-humored. That could have gone really badly.”

“How was I supposed to know what to offer?”

They started walking. “I dunno, but definitely not less than half.”

Wild’s shoulders slumped. "The Captain is gonna be on my hide for weeks.”

Four gently nudged his partner’s hip. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll probably appreciate that you picked such quality weapons. I saw the way you tested each sword. Where’d you learn that?”

“Part of knighthood is being able to choose the equipment that will keep you and your wards safe.” Wild went silent a moment. He remembered how the Master Sword had nearly fallen apart from the abuse of the Calamity. “When I’m out in the wilds, I take what I can get. Give me a choice and I’ll take the best I can find.”

“You didn’t pick the most expensive ones, though,” Four pointed out.

“I didn’t like the most expensive ones. This one,” he tapped the pommel above his right shoulder, “was weighted and sized the best for me. I know my abilities and my limitations. I can kill with virtually anything you give me, Four. Still, my own skill only carries me so far. My gear needs to pick up the slack. As the knight sworn to protect the princess of Hyrule, I’m most valuable when I’m at my most lethal.”

Four had to give it to him, that was solid reasoning. When he himself had forged the Four Sword, he put care into every strike on red-hot metal. In a way, he viewed the sword more as a piece of art than an instrument of violence. Wild had a point, though: Before everything else, a sword is meant to kill. Still, something bothered Four about his partner’s phrasing.

“Wild, your value isn’t just in your ability to slay evil,” Four said, careful to avoid the word kill. Wild looked down to his companion. Four couldn’t identify his expression, so he continued: “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re kind, caring, and humble to a fault. You had the weight of the world thrust on your shoulders, and nearly died protecting the princess. You lost your memory, but you still soldiered on and saved Hyrule. And you were able to wield the Master Sword, which is a testament to the purity of your soul.”

The shortest Link looked skyward and smiled. “Just look at all of us Links. We share a love for life and a sense of justice that drives us to protect the light. That’s what binds us, what summons us whenever Hyrule needs us most. I’d bet all four of my lives that we aren’t the only Links there have been or ever will be.”

A few seconds passed. Four glanced at Wild. The Hylian Champion seemed lost in thought, as if he were walking on autopilot. The young smithy had had to make sense of four fragmented personalities to achieve his full potential. He still couldn’t make sense of Wild sometimes. He figured, as the other Links had, that Wild came out of his adventure the most psychologically damaged of all of them—even more than Time.

Wild was shocked out of his reverie by a little girl shoving past him trying to chase her friends. The sights and sounds of Selggog rushed back to him. He stopped walking and shook his head to clear it. Four waited a few paces ahead. “Sorry, were you saying something?” Wild asked, still a little dazed.

Four walked back, reached up to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, and smiled. “Not really, no. Let’s head back to the café and meet up with the others. They probably picked out some good food.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’m down for a second breakfast.”

“Hah, you always are.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #my own #my writing #fanfic #zelda #the legend of zelda #creator content #linked universe fanfiction #swords shields arrows

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saeitoa · 4 years ago

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The Bigger Gift [Kuroo x f!Reader One Shot]

Y/N wanted to give Kuroo the biggest gift for his birthday, but he had The Bigger Gift for her.

A/N: Posted this on my AO3 before but decided to upload my One Shots here too. Hope you like it :)

“FUCK ..”, Kuroo wakes up to loud yelling and more chaotic noises coming from the kitchen. He turns around and sees his girlfriend’s side of the bed is empty. Like any other day Y/N was always the one to wake up first in the morning, but Kuroo hoped that today she would stay longer in bed with him.

Groans escape his mouth as he stretches his body and makes his way out of the bed to the kitchen. The kitchen is lit up by natural sunlight and Y/N is dancing to songs from their shared playlist, her phone connected to the speaker.

Kuroo observes Y/N amused while leaning on the door frame. There is no sense of the chaos that woke him up. Y/N stands in front of the stove cooking their breakfast while swaying around to the music. It was rare for them to have breakfast together as one of them always had to be out of the house earlier than the other, because of that Kuroo is happy that it worked out on this day.

Still leaning on the door frame, Kuroo smiles to himself since Y/N is wearing one of his old high school shirts making him remember the time when they met.

They did not go to the same high school, however they met at the Volleyball Summer Camp where both their high school’s volleyball teams came together. Y/N was one of the team managers at Fukurodani and she caught Kuroo’s eye in an instant.

After the regular practice was over Kuroo often practiced with Bokuto and Akaashi in the evening. The latter knowing that Y/N had a thing for Kuroo too, invited her to their evening practices and Kuroo and Y/N became closer by playing volleyball with another.

To Kuroo’s surprise Y/N was quite good at Volleyball herself and they quickly bonded over the sport. But not only did they share a liking for Volleyball, they also both excelled in school and held themselves up to high expectations. When asked about each other they always praise their partners support in all aspects and Kuroo could not be happier about having such a supportive and loving partner at his side.

Yet in thoughts he leaves the door frame and makes his way over to Y/N, startling her with his embrace from behind.

“Good Morning Baby,” Kuroo whispers into Y/N’s ear and kisses her cheek gently.

Y/N liberates herself out of his embrace and jumps on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She gives him a sweet and passionate kiss and drapes her arms around his neck.

“Happy Birthday Baby!”, she exclaims excitedly, smiling at him with a wide grin.

He returns her smile and laughs “Thank you! You seem more excited than me for my birthday.”

Kuroo lets her down, with his arms still around her waist she says “Well, for you it’s just another day of getting older. For me it’s celebrating the day you were born, celebrating that we happen to live at the same time, celebrating that you’re a part of my life … all of that.”

“You should be that cheesy more often,” he laughs and gives her a quick peck on the nose making her cheeks turn rosy. Y/N quickly turns around and brings her attention back to their breakfast cooking on the stove.

“Kuroo, you can sit down already the food’s almost done,” she says while adding seasoning to the scrambled eggs.

He sits down at the counter, where Y/N has already placed the tableware.

The counter is decorated with a glass vase and flowers, a small cake and a gift box next to it.

Y/N sets the scrambled egg, salted mackerel, toast on the counter and lights a few candles.

“Oh, just a second,” she does a little sprint to the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of champagne and orange juice and returns to the counter. She pours Kuroo and herself a glass of the bubbly alcohol and juice and sits down next to her boyfriend.

“You know I still have to go to work in a bit,” Kuroo says as he takes the glass into his hand.

Y/N takes her glass too and laughs, “Well, guess you have to take the train today.” They clink their glasses and gulp down the champagne.

After they set their glasses back onto the table, Kuroo takes Y/N’s face into his hands and takes a deep look into her eyes, “Thank you for the breakfast. I love you so much.” He kisses her deeply making her blush at his sweet expression of gratitude.

“You’re welcome, I hope it tastes good”, Y/N smiled before putting some of the food on his plate.

They both enjoy their breakfast when Y/N notices Kuroo staring at the gift box.

“You can open it if you want to. This is only something small, you’ll get the bigger present when you get back from work,” she winks at him and hands him the black gift box.

Kuroo looks at the box, “Alright. I hope you don’t have something big planned later, you know I’m not the type for that,” he chuckles lightly and starts to unwrap the gift box.

Y/N’s eyes become wide for a second and she clears her throat, “No, don’t worry just a cute dinner. Only both of us.”

He finishes unwrapping the gift box and takes out a frame. The frame holds a drawing of both of them sitting in the grass. In the drawing they are wearing their high school team’s jerseys and were smiling at each other. Kuroo remembers this moment like it was yesterday.

“Is this from the summer camp? Where we first met?” Kuroo asks unable to take his eyes at the piece of art, examining every little detail.

Y/N smiles “Yes, Akaashi took this back then. Do you like it? I asked an artist to do this commission for us,” she looks expectantly at Kuroo, awaiting his response.

“I love it. Thanks, so much Y/N! This is such a heartfelt gift,” Kuroo set the frame down on the counter and embraces her, kissing her forehead.

Y/N returns his embrace and wraps her arms around his strong back and nuzzles her face into his chest, she mumbles “I’m so glad you like it.”

Their intimate moment gets interrupted by Kuroo’s phone ringing.

He picks up the phone and groans, “Hello, yes I’ll be there in a bit. Understood, thank you!”

Looking at her with a glum expression he says “Sorry Baby, but I have to leave now. Let’s clean this up and then I’ll be back later.”

Y/N sighs, “Yeah, alright. I’ll put the cake in the fridge for later.”

They both start cleaning up the counter and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Kuroo places Y/N’s gift on top of the sideboard in the hallway of their apartment.

After quickly dressing up and getting ready he gives Y/N, who was washing the dishes in the kitchen, a soft kiss on her cheek, “I love you. See you later”

Y/N pouts after Kuroo turns around, “I love you too Kuroo.”

As soon as he left the apartment, she runs to her phone and calls Akaashi.

“He’s gone Akaashi, let’s get to work”, she smiles to herself. Bokuto, Akaashi and Y/N planned a birthday party for Kuroo and now it was finally time to set everything up. For Y/N’s special gift she let Akaashi in on the secret, that she wanted to set up a pole in their bedroom to give Kuroo a little show after the party is over.

Soon after the call the doorbell rings, and Akaashi and Bokuto arrive. Y/N embraces them in a hug.

“Hey thanks for helping me today, so Akaashi can you maybe help me in the bedroom? And Bokuto can you start to decorate here? I’m trusting you on your decoration skills.”, she hands Bokuto a box with party decorations.

“Leave it all to me. I’m going to turn this into the coolest party room Y/N,” Bokuto excitedly takes the box from Y/N and winks at her.

Akaashi and Y/N make their way to the bedroom, where Y/N hid the package with the pole in her wardrobe.

“I already prepared some tools here in this box,” Y/N says as she grabs another box from her wardrobe.

Akaashi opens the box with the pole inside and takes out the instruction. “Okay, it doesn’t seem too hard should be manageable”, he reads through the instruction.

Without too much work, to Y/N’s surprise, they install the pole in the bedroom.

Akaashi inspects the pole, “You should try it out. It’s better if it breaks down now than later.”

“Wow, thanks Akaashi. But you’re right, let’s hope the secret pole dance classes paid off,” she says as she walks to the pole and takes a leap on it. She swings around effortlessly.

Her friend claps and says, “Looks good, doesn’t seem to budge even one bit.”

Y/N let the pole go and starts to clean up the packages and cartons scattered around the bedroom. After finishing cleaning up and preparing the bedroom Akaashi and Y/N go to the living room to see how Bokuto is doing.

“Oh wow, you’re almost done,” Y/N exclaims as she entered the room. She looks around and sees the room decorated with balloons and party decoration.

She notices that there are a lot of red accessories that she did not buy before, “What’s with all the red stuff? It looks like it was decorated for Valentine’s Day in some corners,” she says as she takes some steps through the room.

“Uh uhm, well Kuroo likes red and it was the color of N-Nekoma right?”, Bokuto stutters suddenly.

Y/N, not noticing Bokuto’s struggles, answers plainly, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. Thank you Bokuto.”

Akaashi grabs Bokuto’s hand and heads towards the front door, “Y/N, we’ll see you later!”

They exit the apartment quickly and Bokuto, barely able to say goodbye, yells through the hallways, “Yeah goodbye Y/N, I’m excited for tonight!” and laughs, before he gets hit on the shoulder by a hurried Akaashi.

Y/N stands in the middle of the living room, it was slowly time for her to get ready too as Kuroo would be back soon.

She showers, puts on some nice lingerie for later, does her hair and makeup and puts on a beautiful black mesh dress, which was romantic and sexy at the same time. She looks at herself in the mirror and feels excited for her boyfriend’s surprise birthday party.

- The Party -

The doorbell rings constantly, as more and more of their friends made their way to Kuroo’s surprise birthday party. Y/N has already set up drinks and snacks on the tables and Akaashi and Bokuto help her do the last finishing touches before he arrives.

“He should be here soon,” Y/N says nervously and was calmed by a smiling Akaashi, who rubs her back to ease her nervousness.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous; he will like the party and it’s gonna be amazing. I promise.”, Akaashi says with emphasis on his promise.

Suddenly the sound of keys and the door opening, makes everyone become quiet. Everyone anticipates the entrance of the tall dark-haired man, and when he entered the room everyone cheered.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUROO!”, they holler in unison.

Kuroo’s eyes wide and he starts laughing and gets showered in hugs.

He shouts, “Thank you everyone!” and gets a glass handed to him by Bokuto.

“Let’s drink on Kuroo!”, Y/N yells and raises her glass.

All the guests cheer, and they raise their glasses and empty them. Y/N turns on the music and the apartment is filled with dancing and drinking guests, some making their way to Kuroo to bring him a gift and wish him a happy birthday again.

The tall birthday boy makes his way to Y/N and picks her up.

“Thank you for this amazing party Baby.”, he kisses her while still lifting her up.

Y/N smiles into the kiss and exclaims happily, “You’re welcome Baby. I love you so much.”

They both get back into the crowd and dance with the guests, downing a few drinks, before Kuroo takes Y/N’s hand and leads her out on the balcony.

“Hey, why are we outside?”, Y/N asks confused about why they were outside alone and not celebrating with the guests inside.

Kuroo stands in front of her, making Y/N face the view from the balcony, so she does not notice what was going on inside.

“I wanted to give you a proper thank you,” Kuroo smiles at her warmly, “also I have to ask you something.”

“Oh! About the bigger gift? You’ll get that- “, Y/N stops mid-sentence as she sees Kuroo go down on his knees, “Kuroo what are you- “, her eyes turn wide and watery.

“Y/N, my love.”, Kuroo looks her deeply into the eyes that were now tearing up even more.

“We’ve been together for a while now, and I’m so happy that you’re part of my life. I can’t even put into words, how you make me feel. Every time I look at you Y/N, I know that you’re my one. My heart feels heavy when I’m not around you. I want to make you mine, forever. So, will you marry me?”

“YES. Oh my god, Kuroo a thousand times yes.”, Y/N yells while tears are streaming down her face.

Kuroo puts the ring on her finger and gets up to kiss her passionately.

Y/N breaks the kiss and looks him in the eyes, “W-When did you plan this? Oh my god, I love you.”

“While you were here preparing my party, I got this ring for you. And yes, I knew about the party and Bokuto and Akaashi were actually part of my plan”, Kuroo says with a grin on his face.

“WHAT?”, Y/N shouts in disbelief.

Kuroo kisses her nose and apologizes, “I’m sorry Baby. But still the party is wonderful. I love you.” He picks her up bridal-style and makes his way inside the apartment again. As they came in everybody turns around to the newly engaged couple.

“Congratulations on the engagement!”, the guests now holler.

Y/N’s mouth falls open, “Wait, all of you knew of Kuroo’s plan?!”

Kuroo just laughs while still holding Y/N.

Bokuto came forward with Akaashi, an arm slung around his waist, he laughs, “Yes, we did. That’s why I put up so much red decoration, to set the mood.”

Y/N starts to tear up again and Akaashi hands her a tissue, “Wow, I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to, let’s just celebrate!”, Kuroo sets Y/N down again and drags her to the center followed by Akaashi and Bokuto.

They all dance the night away together, celebrating Kuroo’s Birthday and their engagement.

- After The Party -

Y/N says goodbye to the last guests leaving and closes the door.

She starts cleaning up, collecting empty cups and glasses but then she gets stopped by Kuroo, who has other plans.

“We can do that tomorrow together Baby, let’s go to the bedroom.”, Kuroo says as he picks up Y/N and throws her over his shoulder.

She shrieks and tries to wiggle herself out of his grip, unsuccessfully. When they arrive in the bedroom Kuroo stops in his tracks.

“Y/N is this the bigger gift you talked about?”, Kuroo smirks and sets his fiancée down.

“Oh fuck.”, Y/N tries to hide the pole with her body and stutters, “Uh, maybe.”

Kuroo just laughs and pushes Y/N onto the bed, “We should try this out another night,” he takes off his clothes and helps Y/N take off hers, “But now I just want to fall asleep with the love of my life.”

Y/N blushes at his sudden affectionate words and crawls under the covers with Kuroo.

After an eventful day they both fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

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vespertineflora · 4 years ago

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3zun Combo Fics

XiYao

we're alone in the dark E, During Canon, Classroom Sex, 4.6k It's the first time Jin Guangyao has had the chance to use the jade token Lan Xichen had given him for free passage in and out of the Cloud Recesses, and it's during this first late evening visit that Jin Guangyao discovers that Lan Xichen has been having fantasies about him for far longer than he ever could have guessed--and that Lan Xichen is very eager to act on one such fantasy.

your love is all i can think about E, During Canon/AU, Love Letters/Sneaking Around, 10.4k After Lan Xichen finally goes all the way with Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign, responsibility forces the two apart for far longer than either of them care for. When they finally get to see each other again after three long months, having to sit through hours of a discussion conference when the love of his life is just across the room is more than the poor, sexually pent up Lan Xichen can bear, especially as Jin Guangyao seems to realize he likes the effect he's having on him.

in your warmth i forget how cold it can be E, During Canon, Cold Weather Coziness, 3.3k After a long day of traveling in unexpectedly heavy snowfall, Jin Guangyao arrives in the Cloud Recesses and needs Lan Xichen to warm him up.

rest with me a while E, During Canon, Fluff/Smut, 3.8k The day of the Phoenix Mountain Hunt is a stressful one for Jin Guangyao; Lan Xichen can see how tense he is from just a glance. His offer to help Jin Guangyao with his preparations has been turned down more than once, so Lan Xichen isn't sure what he can possibly do to help him... until he realizes there might be one way he might be able to add a bright spot to Jin Guangyao's day. no angels could beckon me back M, During Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling/Confessions, 1.6k What he had with Lan Xichen should have been enough; Jin Guangyao hadn't intended to confess his feelings, and he certainly hadn't meant for them to be confessed like this.

bare your heart to me E, During Canon, Smut and Hurt/Comfort, 9.5k It's impossible for Lan Xichen to say when he first takes notice of it, but a strange exchange one night makes him realize something rather concerning: he hasn't seen Jin Guangyao's naked body in nearly a year. The realization leads to Lan Xichen chasing after the answer to this mystery, ultimately uncovering a painful truth about the daily horrors of Jin Guangyao's life in Carp Tower.

Daylight Can Be So Violent (series) (in progress, but all pieces are functional one shots) if i told you what i’ve become E, During Canon, Confessions/First Times, 13.7k (pt 1) It's Lan Xichen's first visit to Lanling since Jin Guangyao's ascent to the position of Chief Cultivator the previous month, and with everything he's been through recently, he's perhaps tenser than he otherwise would be, spending a peaceful evening with his dearest friend. Luckily, Jin Guangyao has some ideas about the best ways to relieve stress.

heaven help me (i need to make this right) E, During Canon, Light Bondage, 8k (pt 2) The last few months have been... more than Lan Xichen could have ever hoped for. The reconstruction of the Cloud Recesses is complete, which means his uncle is in a good mood. His brother is healed, moving around and spending time with A-Yuan. And his relationship with Jin Guangyao... well, to put it simply, Lan Xichen couldn't be much happier--though Jin Guangyao has no shortage of ideas for them. It's during one of his regular visits to Lanling that Jin Guangyao suggests they... try doing things a different way.

and i'd do anything E, During Canon, Candle Wax/Praise Kink, 4.7k (pt 3) "Do you trust me?" It was that question, and Lan Xichen's resounding yes, that had landed him here, his wrists tied to the bed posts above his head, silk scarf wrapped lovingly around his eyes, his chest heaving with every hard breath, his cock dripping precum in a sticky pool against his stomach, and drips of wax in various stages of hardness scattered all across his skin.

if there was nowhere to land (i wouldn’t be scared at all) T, During Canon, 5+1fic/angst, 10.7k Meng Yao hasn't lead an easy life. He's been pushed around, beaten, and taken advantage of for nearly as long as he can remember... Falling down stairs is one of the worst things he's been through, and he's fallen more times than anyone should have to. OR Five times someone makes Meng Yao fall down a staircase, and one time someone saves him from falling.

they call me underneath M, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, 4.2k Lan Xichen never intended to visit the cemetery where his sworn brothers were interred together, but now that he's here, he can't make himself leave without at least trying.

a fine time to regret T, During Canon, Grief/Comfort, 2.3k As it turned out, even knowing Jin Rusong was going to die didn't give Jin Guangyao the chance to prepare himself for it.

NieYao

hold on to what we are T, During Canon, Fluff, 1.9k Meng Yao is dedicated to working harder than ever as the Sunshot Campaign is ramping up, but Nie Mingjue wants him to come to bed.

if you need it, then i need it (and only we'll know) E, During Canon, Sex Pollen, 13.1k Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue are on what they assume to be a normal scouting mission into Wen territory--but the day is turned on its head when they get a bit too close to some strange looking plants that release a thick cloud of pollen as they approach. By the time they make it back to camp, they're both already feeling the effects, and the camp's doctor has some mixed news to share. The bad news? The pollen will lead to a deadly qi deviation if left untreated. The good news? They know how to treat it! Now it's just up to Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue to act on it (and on the feelings they've been secretly harboring for one another for months).

when it comes time to rest my head E, Canon Divergent, Hurt/Comfort, 20.8k When Nie Mingjue spots the freshly bloodied handkerchief Jin Guangyao accidentally drops, his first sickening conclusion is that he's just caught him in the middle of some nefarious deed--but Nie Mingjue investigates further, and instead uncovers a series of injuries across Jin Guangyao's body that tell a much more heart-wrenching tale than the one Nie Mingjue first suspected. Can Nie Mingjue earn back enough of Jin Guangyao's trust to get him to accept the help he so clearly needs? Can he convince Jin Guangyao... to come back to Qinghe with him? i need your broken promises E, Canon Divergent, Werecat!JGY, 11.7k The night Meng Yao is promoted to be Nie Mingjue's deputy, he makes two requests: to be left alone on the night of the full moon, and to not be asked why he needs to be left alone. Nie Mingjue is extremely curious about this odd appeal, but he honors it regardless. Years later, when Nie Mingjue proposes, Meng Yao repeats his requests as the only stipulations for their marriage, and Nie Mingjue once again promises to let Meng Yao keep his secret... until he realizes that perhaps the secret isn't as well kept as he once thought, and he confronts Meng Yao to learn the truth.

the day bleeds into nightfall T, During Canon, Angst and Romance, 2.5k When Wen Chao attacks the Unclean Realm, Meng Yao rushes to release Xue Yang, and Nie Mingjue catches him stabbing his general. Nie Mingjue might have thought he was doing Meng Yao a mercy when he banished him... but Meng Yao isn't sure he agrees.

love me hard oh, love me right E, Modern AU, Rule 63 PWP, 2k Sometimes Meng Yao just needs to be gently dommed by her girlfriend until she cries, and you know what? That's valid.

the love held in her hands E, Modern Fantasy AU, Rule 63/Fairy!MY, 3k When Nie Mingjue's tiny fairy girlfriend asks to be fingered, Nie Mingjue immediately considers it to be a bad idea... but when her search for something more appropriately-sized drags on too long, she decides to give in to Meng Yao's impatient demands.

NieLan

the common tongue of your loving me E, Modern AU, 69ing, 3.7k Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue have been dating for almost two years now, but Nie Mingjue is always coming up with ways for him and his beau to have some new sort of fun in the bedroom. (Submission for NieLan Month 2020, Day 22 Desperation/Beauty/Awe. This is also the 69th fic I've uploaded to my AO3 account haha)

3zun

home is where my love waits E, Modern AU, Sexted Pics & DP, 5.1k Meng Yao is out of town on business for the weekend and Lan Huan and Nie Mingjue have the brilliant idea to send their absent boyfriend some spicy material to keep him warm while he's away (and definitely not because teasing him is very fun). When Meng Yao gets back to his hotel room at night to discover the proverbial feast, he's both very turned on and very frustrated to be so far away--but luckily for Meng Yao, they have more than adequate plans to make up for their teasing once he gets home.

i’ve had no love like your love E, Modern AU, happy birthday jgy!3some, 9.2k It's Meng Yao's birthday, and after working all day, he travels to Nie Mingjue's place in a swiftly escalating winter storm, where a night of warm wine and even warmer company awaits... Nie Mingjue and a tipsy Lan Huan have a delightful plan in place on just how they can warm him up.

how could i ask for more E, Modern Genderbend AU, CNC Roleplay, 14.3k When Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue ask Lan Huan what she wants for her birthday, they strongly imply it can be a sexual favor. Lan Huan asks for so little in the bedroom; she always seems content to just join in whatever activities her girlfriends partake in and never makes specific requests for herself. Of course, when Lan Huan actually indulges their suggestion, the last thing they expect from her is a detailed, written fantasy that she hands to them with an entirely red face... But if such a thing is what Lan Huan wants, Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue will make sure to give her exactly what she's asking for. Written for Whumptober 2020, Theme No 6. PLEASE… (“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”).

there’s a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) E, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort & Panic Attacks, 6.2k Meng Yao and Nie Mingjue were exes... until Lan Xichen fell in love with both of them and they decided to set aside their differences for his sake. When they're all together, life is bliss--but Meng Yao's relationship with Nie Mingjue is strained at best, and he notices early on in this reconciliation that the only time Nie Mingjue seems willing to hold him or be affectionate with him is after they have sex. Meng Yao has learned that, on the rare nights and weekends when Lan Xichen is away and he needs affection, that having sex with Nie Mingjue is the quickest and easiest way to get it. Lan Xichen just so happens to be out of town after Meng Yao has a particularly bad day at work. He needs the comfort more than ever, but when he tries to get it from Nie Mingjue the only way he knows how, it doesn't go the way he plans.

in my arms you’re safe and sound T, Vampire AU, Hurt/Comfort & Feeding, 2.9k Jin Guangyao is a dhampir who is fully turned when his father accepts him into the family--but Jin Guangshan treats him terribly, and when Nie Mingjue begins to realize how far this mistreatment goes, he drags Jin Guangyao off for a conversation which quickly escalates into an emotional shouting match that results in Nie Mingjue deciding that Jin Guangyao needs to be removed from Carp Tower immediately. Lan Xichen finds them just in time for the three sworn brothers to head together back to Qinghe, where Lan Xichen personally discovers one of the many awful things Jin Guangshan has done to hurt Jin Guangyao.

how were we to know E, Canon Divergent, MAJOR HURT/comfort, 12.9k (check AO3 for warnings on this one!) After the Sunshot Campaign, Meng Yao took Lan Xichen's offer to come live with him in the Cloud Recesses, sparking the beginning of their romantic relationship--which in turn uncovered their individual romantic histories with Nie Mingjue, and led to a shared romantic present with him. In the years since, the three have been in love and quite happy with their shared arrangement. However, eventual grief lingered at the back of their thoughts; they all knew the effect the saber spirit was gradually having on Nie Mingjue's mind and on his temperament, causing more frequent and more violent outbursts... Though none of them could have guessed the particular sort of violence it would lead Nie Mingjue to commit one night alone with Meng Yao.

when you are lost and i am gone M, Canon Divergent, Character Death, 2k When Lan Xichen had received the letter from Meng Yao, he'd left the camp at once to meet him in the forest outside of Nightless City, but even still, he arrives a second too late to do anything but watch as one of his friends cuts down the other. a light on the other side M, Modern AU, JGY-centric, 2.6k As a child, Meng Yao had only ever met his father in passing, as he had a family of his own and wanted little to do with the child that resulted from his affair with Meng Yao's mother. But when Meng Shi passed away tragically, 13 year old Meng Yao was sent to live with his father, spending the rest of his teen years in a living hell until he was able to escape... A few years later, another affair and another tragedy brought infant Mo Xuanyu into the Jin household and Meng Yao returned to keep him safe from the fate he'd suffered himself. Life there is awful, though not nearly as bad as it was before, as Meng Yao spends most of his time alone caring for Mo Xuanyu. However, a few months into his return, Meng Yao is presented with a unique opportunity when, late one night, he finds Jin Guangshan collapsed on the floor of his office.

#3zun #xiyao #nieyao #nielan #mdzs #cql #wrote a thing #vesper posts

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secretficblog · 4 years ago

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In another life - Chapter 2 - Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Long before there were new Jedi, before the fight between the Resistance and the First Order came to an end, there was just a young man, skilled in flying anything he could get his hands on, with the urge to be something greater. Then there was you. You broke him

Rating: M for smut in later chapters

Now on ao3, come say hi if you want to!

Warnings: both of them are idiots, I feel like I only write idiots with zero communication skills, you’ll see; little angsty but not to much; you dumped him;

no use of y/n

Word count: 1577

previous chapter here , next chapter at the bottom

Poe Dameron’s day had started out pretty normal. He had showered quickly, put on a fresh undershirt and jumped into his worn, orange flight suit. The material felt like a second skin to him by now. General Organa had announced the mission to him, briefed him in a quiet and urgent voice and he had boarded his ship soon after, his squadron following behind, loyal and willing to fight by his side as ever. Just your average day. In hyperspeed he did something out of the ordinary though. He should have known that this was the tipping point, where it all went to shit.

His fingers grazed the edge of something hidden he had tucked away beneath his controls. It was a photo, edges worn and creased, well loved and faded. He looked younger in it, more carefree, arms wrapped around your waist while you had your legs wrapped around his torso. Your faces were smushed together, cheek to cheek and you were both smiling brightly at the camera. Pain welled up inside of him as he brushed the tip of his index finger over your face. You had left him behind years ago, tears brimmed in his eyes as he remembered the moment he had realized you were gone. The strain on your relationship had been big, he knew that. He had been preoccupied in the end, trying to find the right place for himself in this twisted galaxy and had joined the Resistance immediately after you left since he had toyed with the idea for a while. His accomplishments filled him with pride and his relationships warmed his heart but nothing and no one made him feel the way you used to. Poe dwelled on the idea “What if…?” every once in a while but there was usually something that triggered it, sometimes it was just a smell leading to a memory which hit him harder than he thought it would and then he found himself in his room, curling his hand around his mother’s necklace as he remembered how close he was to giving it to you. Before.

The drop out of hyperspace tore him away from his train of thought and he pushed everything that didn’t concern the mission away. Black-Two, Black-Three and Black-Four landed on the surface while Poe surveyed the situation from above. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of this but after Wexley had insisted that he was their best flyer and they needed air support, in case the First Order sent reinforcements. He prided himself in listening to his team, never had he intended on becoming a high ranking asset of the Resistance, he just wanted to help, to have a purpose in life.

Poe hovered close by, hearing the commotion below him and then he saw the First Order ship abruptly leave the surface, without even noticing him. Poe considered engaging with them but he knew better than to anger a beaten First Order fleet. He waited with baited breath for the comms to come to life and hear his squadron talk to him, alive and well.

“Black Leader, this is Black Three, Black Leader, come in please.”, came Jessika’s voice over the comms. Finally.

“Black Three, this is Black Leader, you good?”, he replied.

“Wexley got hit but one of the villagers took down some troopers and basically saved his ass.”

Kriffing hell, he thought to himself. He was glad Wexley was okay because Poe was not sure how well he would react to losing someone close to his heart right now. Hell maybe they could even bring home a new recruit if that villager was any good, Maker knows the Resistance needed it.

“Wexley, Kun, Pava, you’re magical, well done. Black Leader landing.”, Poe laughed.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Dameron.” The com-link crackled and Pava was gone.

He landed his X-Wing carefully, jumping out on the opposite side of his team. “You know guys, I’m really freaking proud of you, showing those bucketbrains how it’s done. I think we deserve a go-”

Kriff. This couldn’t be. His mouth moved, no words coming out. He blinked. Maybe he got shot out of the sky and this was all just a fever dream. Maybe he was currently lying in the wreckage of his X-Wing and bleeding out and you were the vision taking him to the afterlife. There were no words that could accurately summarize his emotions right now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”, was what came out in the end. His eyes locked with yours, a feeling of familiarity and alienation that washed over him at the same time was making him feel uneasy.

“Poe, I-”, you started but he cut you off. He couldn’t do this right now, not in front of his squadron.

“No, don’t bother. None of my business, eh?”

The amount of bitterness in his own voice didn’t escape him but he had stowed his feelings for you away for so long, he was allowed to let some of it out, one way or another. He let the rest of the conversation wash over him, nodding along to the information his squadron gave him and reluctantly agreeing when they suggested that you should join them on the mission. He knew what you were capable of and his feelings were not supposed to be his main concern right now. After Pava and you had left and Wexley had boarded his X-Wing to return back to base to have his wound looked at, Kun and Poe headed out into the opposite direction to asset the damage in the village.

A few steps away from the ship Kun touched his shoulder softly. “I don’t want to intrude, Dameron. Really, but I haven’t seen you react this strongly to anyone before. Who is she?” Her question was quiet but firm. Poe had always admired the way she made people open up to her, it wasn't like she forced the information out of anyone. People shared their worries with Karé Kun willingly and she somehow always found the right words to sooth the pain of others.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. “She was my girlfriend. Before the Resistance. I was ready to marry her, kriff, days away from asking actually, when we had a fight. I told her I wanted to join, fight against the First Order, had been wanting to for a long time actually but I just couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. She said she didn’t want me to hold this over her later, didn’t want me to think I made the wrong decision. I went to bed angry that night, we never used to. The next morning she was gone, the only thing she left behind was a note next to our bed. “I’ll find you in another life, Dameron, be a hero.” it said. Can you believe that? I tried to stay, waited for her to return for a few days but staying where we used to spend all our time together made me slowly go crazy. So I left and joined the Resistance shortly after.”

Karé was staring at him with big eyes. “I’m so sorry Poe, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No one knows”, he replied, “but I’m glad I told you. Thank you for listening Karé.”

She smiled softly up at him and squeezed his shoulder. They went on their way but they were able to smell that there was nothing left before they could see it. The village was nothing but burning piles of what must have been the village's inhabitants at some point and ashes by the time they got there. Flames were licking at the small homes and the smell of burning flesh and wood lingered in the air. Poe called out for survivors but only the sound of his own voice echoed back to him. A window exploded out of one of the houses. He dragged a hand over his face, feeling drained at the sight in front of him. His comlink began lighting up at the same time as Karé’s did.

“Kriff. It’s Jess! Distress signal!”, she called but Poe had already broken onto a sprint, your name falling from his lips.

He didn’t dare to slow down all the way to the location Jess had sent him, only halting at the cave entrance for Karé to catch up before storming in blindly. It was too quiet and he looked around quickly, eyes searching frantically until they landed on you. He breathed your name before catching himself and straightening up.

He automatically kicked into Commander-Dameron-Mode, as Jess liked to call it, and started comforting the villagers. He only registered Pava making a loud noise in the back of his mind but the loud thunk that followed had him turning around quickly, half expecting more troopers. Instead he saw you, crumbled on the floor, burned arm outstretched and looking pale. He was by your side in an instant, cradling your head softly in his lap. You skin was ashen and you didn't react to him softly shaking your shoulder. He tried again, more frantic. “Hey, come on, wake up baby”, the endearing term fell off his lips easily, like it had all those years ago. "Let me see those pretty eyes, come on." He looked up to his crew, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "I just found her again...", he whispered.

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

I would love to hear what you think about this, uni just started again, I’m unsure of how often I will be able to upload but I’m trying my best. Thank you for reading! xx

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Next chapter here

#poe dameron #poe dameron / reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe / you #poe dameron x you #poe dameron / you #ial #in another life #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequel trilogy #reader insert

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

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Master Post

My Master Post for Sanders Sides fanfiction! These are arranged chronologically from newest to oldest, measured by the date they were completed and uploaded in full, so that will reflect the quality here. (there’s a ton more under the cut btw).

Fast Friends - ao3... (15k Remus-centric intruality, lopsided enemies to friends to lovers, humor and a bit of angst with a happy ending. tw; emetophobes beware!) Patton doesn't like Remus, until one day, he does! Well, Remus isn't buying it. So Remus is not about to be friends with him just because he wants to (no matter how much it maybe, kind of wouldn't mind that).

I’m Not Sorry - ao3... (6k remus-centric intrulogical. continuation of Did You Miss Me. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.) Remus just wanted to get home safe to his wonderful, loving boyfriend. If some greaseball guy thinks he can screw that up, then Remus is perfectly willing to let the night take a turn for the vengeful.

Redamancy - ao3... (5k romantic prinxiety, fluffy friends to lovers with a smidgen of misunderstanding.) Virgil is undoubtedly excited about Nico. The thing is, that’s not the only person he’s excited about.

Did You Miss Me? - ao3... (13k romantic intrulogical, unhealthy relationship and mutual stalking treated light-heartedly. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat). Logan and Remus haven’t spoken in years. But that doesn’t stop them from keeping up with each other, through... various means.

The Down (and up)-side of Individual Expression - ao3... (8k romantic logince, angst w/ a happy ending, prosey and dealing w/ some kinda touchy subject matter vis a vis body image). As the sides have taken on vastly differing appearances over the years, Roman and Logan find themselves incredibly attracted in body and mind to each other. The issue is, Logan still has some trouble believing it.

Tree Bark and Fresh Fruit - ao3... (Fusion AU part six! romantic royality fusion returns for some prose and a lil bit of h/c). Patron doesn't come around often, getting lost in the excitement of Patton and Roman's new romantic relationship- so when she gets a shot to exist again, he's determined to make the most of it by figuring out just what the heck he's supposed to be.

Bitter Licorice and Bright-Blue Bubblegum - ao3... (Fusion AU part five! analogical fusion is back!) Logan and Virgil end up fusing much more regularly, much to Livril's satisfaction at getting to exist, and virtually every other side's chagrin at having to put up with them. Everyone, it seems, but Patton.

Scary Monsters and Family Bonds - ao3... (Fusion AU part four! Platonic anxceitmus with romantic dukeceit, short and mostly meaningless.) Rennet, freshly born like five seconds ago, is desperate to find some people to bother and/or amaze. But instead, Rennet finds an attachment that nobody quite expected to be so intense, but hey, it's not complaining, and neither is Virgil.

Acceptable Behavior - ao3... Remus is surprisingly concerned about his boyfriend's boundaries. (short & sweet intruality drabble. p/ much just cuddling)

On Truth and Untruth - ao3... Janus is allowed to participate in the group, and that is more than enough for them. Not too bad of a change up, really, and they aren't going to complain about it any time soon. Patton, however, insists on throwing a wrench into their system- their perfectly functioning, if maybe hypothetically a bit lonely, system. (28k word janus-centric romantic moceit and platonic dlampr, lots of angst and lots of yearning, with a happy ending. something of a character study.)

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chap.1, Chap.2, Chap.3, Chap.4, Chap.5, Chap.6, Chap.7, Chap.8, Chap.9 - ao3... (Finished!) Patton doesn't think of himself as misunderstood. More accurately, he's not very good at explaining himself. Remus explains himself perfectly well, succinct, confident. People are just bad at listening. Patton is lonely. He'd never say it out loud. No one knows. Remus is lonely. He says it in everything he does. No one knows. They're similar. They're different as can be. Contradictory, maybe; complimentary, definitely. They could be good for each other- they just need to explain it right. (hurt/comfort, eventual queer-platonic intruality, a healthy amount of angst).

Sharp Spikes and Glamour - ao3... (part three of my Fusion AU! a little angstier and racier than the others, but that’s thanks to the dukeceit dynamic, and its nothing too bad). Now, just a month ago, Remus could very confidently say that his and Janus’ relationship was perfect. And it still was, really, but that was before Roman and Patton had pulled some cartoon fusion bullshit that exactly no one had known was possible. There was no question. Remus was going to learn to do that.

Squishy, Precious Lil’ Baby! - ao3... Very short, platonic intruality fluff. Remus turns into a rat for a scare, but Patton is very unafraid of him in the new form.

Black Cloth and Star Systems - ao3... (Almost 4k fluff, part two of my Fusion AU! Very heavy on the descriptions, and also the Love that these two Have.) After Patton and Roman fuse, Logan can't help but feel desperately curious about this new discovery, and the possibilities of fusion between sides. But, his interest is a little more personal than he could stand to admit... Because what if- what if he could try it, too?

more under the cut

Flare Up - ao3... Human au drabble. Romantic sleepxiety. They are soft and in the rain.

Soft Walls and Roses - ao3... (Part one of my Fusion AU! Fluffy, sweet, and prose-y. Abt 3k.) On a nice, cheery day, Roman and Patton get a little lost in a dance <3.

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chap.1, Chap.2, Chap.3, Chap.4 + Epilogue - ao3... (Finished!) What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not? (Second Person, Present Tense. H/C slowburn. romantic analogince. Note: this is not an ‘x reader’ fic, it’s just 2nd person pov.)

A Study in the Pains of Romance as a Genre - ao3... Logan wasn’t 'insecure', by most measures. Sure, he wasn't exactly in love with himself, but he knew the harm that came of self-deprecation, and was careful to avoid it. At the worst of times, he could solidly be called 'self-neutral'. Therefore, it followed that Logan was being entirely objective when he said that he would not be a good enough romantic partner for Roman. (Friends to Lovers, abt 4k, romantic logince).

I Like You, Say It Back. - ao3... Short, sweet, slightly angsty first ‘I Love You’ between Virgil and Remus. romantic dukexiety.

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear - ao3... almost 7k friends to lovers fastburn, in that this happens in a day. Set during/right after Putting Others First, a little peak into what Virgil and Remus were doing. Hint; being a little sad and very gay. romantic dukexiety.

The Ballroom - ao3... Every side has a room, but they also come with a special domain, completely individualized to each one. Of these Extensions, the only room that no side (other than its owner) has ever seen is Janus’. At least, until he falls head-over-heels for Roman and finally lets him in. (romantic roceit).

Hypothetically, - ao3... Nearly 7k friends to lovers, with a hearty helping of platonic logince. Logan likes to use the Imagination for experiments, but he can’t manage to use it on his own. The solution is obvious. (romantic intrulogical).

No Other Version of Me - ao3... Patton isn’t very happy about his new froggy features, but Janus finds him gorgeous all the same. Hurt/comfort! romantic moceit.

Complexities Unknowable- Chap.1, chap.2, chap.3, chap.4, chap.5, chap.6, chap.7 - ao3... (Finished!) Slowburn with pre-established Dukeceit, rivals to friends to lovers, with Background Analogince (plus some platonic anxceit and Creativitwins thrown in for funsies). romantic deintruality.

I’d Like To Stand By Him - ao3... Roman and Virgil listen to each other’s playlists. romantic prinxiety.

An Open and Honest Conversation About Our Feelings - ao3... hurt/comfort, shamelessly self-indulgent. Patton doesn’t come out of his room all day, so Virgil goes to check up on him. romantic moxiety.

Something to Uplift Us - ao3... Roman-centric (and Remus-centric) DLAMPR (platonic Creativitwins!). Quarantine shenanigans; the boys put on a show for their boyfriends!

Thursday Nights - ao3... Short fluff where Remus and Patton watch a horror flick together and cuddle. romantic intruality.

5 Times Logan Helped His Partners Get Their Shit Together +1 Time They Returned The Favor - ao3... Summary’s in the title on this one, Bud. Logan-centric romantic DLAMPR (platonic p & r), very hurt/comfort.

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Playing hooky leads to more delicious food (Sy cooks! Swoon!), some deep conversation, and new revelations about Shane’s past.

What? You’re behind? Don’t worry! CLICK ME to catch up before reading this chapter!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, more food sluttiness, shameless nerd speak, unfettered and shameless sappiness.

Author’s Note: So, guys, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get this chapter to you Sunday. Life has just been a bit disheartening of late. Between being upset over some personal turmoil some friends are going through (two of my oldest friends are getting a divorce!) and coming home from work utterly exhausted on all possible levels, it’s been hard to write about lovey dovey things. As I said in my recent reblog of my masterlist, though, I’m working on some prologues, one for each character. I don’t plan on them being terribly long, but I want you guys to have some more back story.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

It was hard to feel guilty for calling out of work for the afternoon under false pretenses when she was curled up on the sectional in Sy’s “nerd lair” with his head in her lap as they watched John Wick on the massive TV he had down there.

“You mean to tell me we watched the entire Bourne franchise upstairs on that…that iPod Touch, by comparison, when we could have watched down here on this majestic monolith!? In what is essentially a theater!?” She’d asked immediately, derailing the grand tour of the museum of things she would soon find amazing.

“Hey, I haven’t been coming down here a whole lot since I hurt my knee. Stairs haven't exactly been easy or, ya know, possible. I had my gaming computer down here for weeks, too, couldn't do a damn thing about it, because I didn't trust a'one of my buddies or my neighbors to haul her up the stairs for me. Leia's a custom machine worth thousands a' dollars. If she's getting' broke, it's all gonna be on me."

"You named your gaming computer? Leia?" So many emotions were flooding her. Adoration, sympathy, lust, and just a sheer need to squeeze the bejeezus out of him.

"Yeah, it's a common thing. And…not to be that guy, but…you do know who Leia is, right?

"If by Leia, you mean Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, true daughter of Darth Vader, adopted by Bail Organa at birth, sister of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted to take things slow, sunshine." he pulled her close, flush with his body. "Then you go talkin' all sexy to me like that." he lingered at her cheek with light kisses.

"Well, you did the same with your baseball talk the other night." she moaned into the contact with relish.

"I can't help it if certain sports terms have made their way into everyday speech. Your…exposition there, about my boyhood crush was intentional."

"You had a crush on Leia?" he nodded, shyly. "I had a crush on Han! Heck with Cap and Widow, THERE'S our couple's costume for next Halloween!" she said, excitedly!

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about costumes for public use." he said, a naughty smirk in his eye.

"Stop it, you. Finish your tour. I want that soup on the stove." she said, patting her tummy.

He showed her the various memorabilia he'd procured over the years. Posters from a few of her favorites, and a few others that she recognized but wasn't as excited about. Die Cast models of several famous film vessels and vehicles, and a "life size" LEGO R2-D2 which would have had her salivating even if she hadn't been hungry. Apparently it took him almost a month to assemble the droid, but he did it all by himself.

"Aww…I wish I could have helped." she lamented.

"Maybe I'll pick up the Death Star and we can do that one together."

She nodded excitedly, eyes wide, rubbing her hands together in front of her chin with greed.

"Okay, little mouse." he chuckled. "Let's fill that belly and start this movie."

They filled massive bowls with generous portions and took the crackers down stairs so they could start the marathon. If they wanted to get through all three films tonight, they'd best get started.

They were both fairly quick eaters out of habit given her often truncated lunch breaks and his typical ten minutes in the mess hall. Even savoring the delicious creamy, cheesy concoction, as she tried to do, it was hard to slow down on. It did give her something to focus on during the first, emotionally devastating part of the film though. Once she finished, she expressed a final groan of delight and thanked Sy, kissing him on his cheek as she held the other. She felt the smile bloom across his face as she prolonged the contact.

They were about halfway through the movie, a big fight scene in a night club, when something dark and grim hit Shane in the chest. Watching Keanu Reeves pretend to beat up and kill all of these actors and stunt men, it occurred to her that the man with his head resting gently on her lap, long body taking up the rest of that side of the sectional, had fought and killed. The man letting her play her fingers through his hair and beard had shot and blown up people. He was told to do it. Ordered to do it. But even though he was doing it lawfully and by military order, as far as she knew, it was still his job…at least some of the time. She knew that was an oversimplification of the function of the armed forces, but…sometimes, it was an apt description.

She had never thought of Sy like that before. Someone other than the strong but gentle teddy bear that had come to be such a comforting presence in her life. She needed that, after all she'd been through…she tried not to think about the hurt of her last relationship. She hadn't discussed it with Sy. It was history. Ancient history. But she was, after all, a believer in the fact that those who knew nothing of the past were doomed to repeat it. She'd tell him…one day. Everything that Elliott had done to her…had put her through. But not tonight. Suddenly, she thought being on the arm of a soldier, someone who'd lived the kind of life that Captain Logan Syverson had lived, might make her feel more safe than she had in ages.

"You're awful quiet, sunshine." he said, cracking a beer open and handing it to her before doing the same for himself and sitting down with his thick arm around her.

"Just…trying to be respectful of the movie experience. You know." she smirked at him as the menu music to the second movie played.

"It ain't that. I know this is still new, what we're doin', but I've watched enough movies with ya over the last few weeks to know that you don't keep quiet for a full length feature." Shane worried the tab on her cold Miller Lite. She wasn't sure how to bring this forward. "Spill it, sweetheart. What's eatin' ya?"

"What…what do you think about when you're watching movies like this, Sy?"

"Guess, same as anybody. How awesome the fighting and driving is. Wondering when Keanu got to be a badass. And if there's really an underground society of assassins. Why, hon?"

"I, umm, I only wondered if it…it doesn't make you miss…your job?"

The smile he gave her was both bemused and amused. "Come 'ere." he prompted her to lean her head into him, and sat his beer down on the buffet behind the couch so he could better hold her. "Do we need to go over the function of a captain of the Army of These United States? Because as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, I'm no John Wick, nor do I know anyone like John Wick. Or five guys that would make one John Wick. Ten guys. Maybe twenty."

"The fighting doesn't bring anything back?" she smoothed the creases in his shorts as she tried not to act like she was over thinking his past.

"That fightin’s…it's like dancing. It's choreographed, precise, and the outcome is predetermined. Real fights are the exact opposite. They're chaos, unpredictable, and the right guys don't always win. Trust me, I've seen a lot of them go south in a big way." they both let a moment of silence pass before Sy broke it. "What’re ya really askin’, Shane?"

She wanted to ask so many things. The questions seemed to clog the ventricles of her brain like leaves in a rain gutter. Bottlenecked traffic.

"I just…couldn't help but think…about things you must have had to do when…when you were active, and I just…if you need to talk about anything, I'm here." She imagined that taking someone's life, no matter how personal or impersonal the act itself seemed on the surface, would create some level of emotional scarring.

“Oh, sweetheart." he kissed the top of her head, making her feel as warm and cozy as the soup had…perhaps more so. "You are important to me for so many reasons. You've shown me how to smile again. Laugh. Real, genuine happiness. No sarcastic shit like I had to use on my men in my squad. But although I'd feel comfortable talkin' to ya 'bout near anything, there's a counselor on the base who's specifically trained to help guys like me. Who've seen what I've seen and been through…similar situations. He makes sure I don't feel like less of a man for what happened to me. You make me feel…like more than a man…something stronger than I thought possible."

She was straining hard to corral the tears within her waterline, but they broke free when he squeezed her tightly to him with both of his massive arms.

"So…that HEP I gave you is working?" she laughed, knowing full well that his home exercise program had no bearing on the strength he meant.

"Come on, Shane." he raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to see herself the way he saw her. "Them handouts you give me don't mean a hill o' beans in this conversation and you know it. The way you hold yourself, speak to others. There is so much quiet strength in your kindness that comes right out of your beautiful little heart. Some days I'll see you working with kids, if I get in early, and I know they annoy you and freak you out, but you never let that show." He looked into her eyes, misty from emotion, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll never be able to explain it right, the way you inspire me to be a better and stronger man. And my heart just breaks to hear you put yourself down. And don't say you're just kidding, because I know you think you are, but behind every one of those jokes is a truth, at least as you see it." He'd seen her make to argue and knew her tactic before she had attempted it. "Give yourself some credit, Shane."

"I'm too busy blaming myself for the bad stuff to give myself credit for anything good." she sniffed. "You're the first guy I've…I've been involved with that's acted like I was worth anything more than a meal ticket. Someone who was only suitable for enough sex to make it an official relationship just so they could have a place to live, and do whatever quasi-job was a thing. First serious boyfriend was a freelance writer, but he never seemed to be writing. Then there was the guy with the internet start-up…but he could never tell me in a satisfactory way what the company actually did…so that was brief."

He seemed to know she was bracing for something big. Something difficult. He gave her silence and stroked her shoulder in encouragement to continue. She took one of her deepest ever breaths.

"Then came Elliott. Elliott Thomas. My last boyfriend. The worst of them all. Most useless and greatest offender. I ignored all of the signs, of course. He had a YouTube channel and an Instagram that he was trying to gain followers on and become a so-called "influencer." she rolled her eyes. "He had no life skills. He had a bit of an eye for photography and he could find humor in uncommon places, which he thought made him insta-famous and vlog-worthy."

"I hate him already." Sy growled.

"Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you the rest, then." he asked her to go on. "He always seemed to find these ways to cheat on me and lie to me that I couldn't quite prove, but I was just certain of. But I just…I didn't want to believe it. I wanted THAT one to work. Well. I came home one night after work, and he had another girl in our bedroom. I told him he had until the next day when I got home to leave. Things got a little physical, but I can hold my own." she said, proudly, "and I bolted with my purse. I stayed with Heather, our evening secretary, and we hashed it out, and got a little blitzed on moscato, and cried together."

"Wow."

"He was gone the next day. All I heard from my landlord was, 'you shouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.' so I guess he had his cop buddies send him a message. He blocked me on all social media and I haven't heard a peep from him since. That was five years ago."

"What a scum bag." he stated, obviously.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to really think about a relationship since then…until…" she let the word hang there, knowing they both knew what the end of the sentence was. "Until I met you." Drifting unsaid in the ether of the unspoken.

"It's been a long time for me too. I mean…I haven't quite been a monk, but I haven't…I haven't cared for a girl since…actually, I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I didn't mean to unpack all of that tonight when we're only a third of the way through our marathon. I really wasn't even going to bring it up at all. It's just…been on my mind. Ya know. I once heard a very poignant parable about keeping your mouth shut if you're warm and happy. I was attempting to do that." she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we need to be able to open up to people in this life. Keeping a bottle stopped under pressure ain't no good for the bottle. Or what's inside."

"Such wisdom. You know just what to say to me." she grinned into him.

"Just seen what keeping yourself closed off can do to a person. And the people they love."

Love…there was that word in the air. Not officially said, but felt in all ways. They held each other close as the opening to the second movie played.

Up Next: Chapter Nine-Group Therapy

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years ago

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Title: Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit

Summary: As a rule, Vader did not really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested.

AN: This fanfic is almost 7.000 words long do yourself a favor and go read it on AO3.

“Why are all the engineers tearing through the ships?” Vader asked the officer in charge.

Truthfully, they hadn’t been sent on a campaign lately, but the Emperor liked to whimsically assign Vader and his ship to pointless random battles, so they always had to be prepared to head into combat and couldn’t afford all their Fighters to be in repair. Frankly speaking, most of the TIEs never saw any repairs. They were just scrapped and demolished. He supposed he should be glad his mechanics had enough sense not to start working on all ships simultaneously.

“They are fixing the life support and shielding of the TIEs, my Lord.”

The what.

“The TIE-Fighters don’t have deflector shielding,” Vader stated.

The Head Engineer nodded nervously and stood up straight. Vader hadn’t picked them for nothing. Their predecessor had been a weak sucker-up who had seen it fit to either doesn’t inform Vader about crucial decisions and changes or had bothered him about every little detail. This new one knew how to do their job or at least it had seemed like it up until now.

“We are aware, my Lord. But there was this video explaining how to easily make some changes to the TIEs and I saw it fit to ensure we reduce our damages,” they replied.

“What video?”

The Head Engineer fetched a datapad from the nearest table and searched through a couple files until they opened one, revealing a video. It appeared to have been posted on the holonet one and a half weeks ago and already had an impress number of views and comments. The entire video was several hours long, and had gained a few Reaction Videos as well.

The thumbnail showed a blonde boy, roughly fifteen if Vader were to guess, wearing a half undone overall and a tank top, standing next to a slightly older boy and an assassination droid, a severely damaged TIE-Fighter lying in the sands behind them.

Vader hit play.

The video started, showing the blond boy of before sitting in a makeshift workshop, a pair of goggles lying around his neck.

“Welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting,” the teenager in the video said. He took a sip of water from the metallic canteen he was holding, drinking slow and carefully the way only a desert dweller did. “A couple weeks ago some sleemo commented that I’d never be able to improve any Imperial ships since I’m just Outer Rim trash.”

The boy took another sip, then set his canteen aside to reach for some parts that looked like they belonged to a half-finished droid.

“And I suppose you did have a point that the things I fix won’t ever reach the level of an Imperial TIE because I wouldn’t build such trash in the first place.”

The teenager’s face was fairly blank, but laughter could be heard coming from whoever was behind the camera, likely the other boy.

“So, to prove that I can do better, I sold a lot of speeders, ships and droids, repaired more terrible freighters than I can count, won several totally legal races and placed a couple of very fortunate bets in the palace of Jabba.”

The boy paused, then he smiled widely and, together with his cameraman, yelled “Boonta Eve Classic Champions!”

When he was done laughing, the boy continued talking. “Anyway, the point is, I made a lot of money to buy a lot of trash.”

The screen turned black and when it returned, it showed the image depicted in the thumbnail. The blond boy climbed on top of the TIE and smiled victoriously.

“So in today’s episode, I’m not only going to prove all you disbelievers wrong, I’m also going to drag the entire Tie-Fighter Program through the sarlacc pit. I’m Luke, the man recording is Biggs, my helper over there is HK-77 and this is Scrap Hunting.”

The first few notes of a song start playing and the channel’s logo, two suns overlaid by a speeder, showed up. The Head Engineer proceeded to stop the video, the screen frozen on the image of the boy grinning mischievously.

“He proceeds to begin to completely overhaul the damaged TIE he bought with alarmingly low cost and high efficiency within a few hours and, frankly speaking, embarrasses me. Some of the things Luke does never occurred to me and it should have, I went to one of Coruscant’s best universities-“

They sighed and put the datapad down. “Either way, we are now making changes to our TIEs. I apologize for not having informed you before, my Lord, but I assumed you’d approve of our Fighters being the most advanced on the field.”

The Head Engineer didn’t look like they regretted their decision, but they had obviously resigned themselves to whatever Vader decided their fate would be. They were loyal to Vader and his command. Vader needed people like them on his crew, not more of the Emperor’s spies.

“You presumed correctly,” Vader said. “Finish outfitting the TIEs you already began taking apart. I will watch the video of this Luke and see what exactly he has to say about the military.”

The Head Engineer saluted. “Yes, Sir! I won’t disappoint you!” Then they turned around and marched over to where the others had stopped working to watch their exchange and told them to get back to work.

Vader, meanwhile, took the datapad and returned to his own rooms. He had a video to watch.

Luke had not planned on becoming famous with a video titled Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit. In fact, he had never expected any of his videos to gain the kind of following and attention they had even before that particular one. In all honesty, it had just started with him making a recording of how he fixed vaporators without taking them apart completely so his friend Biggs could do it as well. He’d just posted that on the net and kept going. First about droids, some more rambles about ships and a while back he’d finally been allowed to go to the shipyards on his own to earn some extra cash.

But then he had found HK-77 in a dumping ground. The droid had been severely damaged, but not so much that Luke couldn’t fix it. Assassin droids were intelligent, much more than any other ones and Luke could honestly use some extra hands around the farm and when he was repairing speeders. Biggs had recorded bits of Luke working on the droid, cut it together and uploaded it and people had loved it. His videos got more clicks, he got more subscriptions and here he was now.

Usually, Luke didn’t let comments get to him, but one obviously core-world spoiled bastard had discredited Luke’s skills without having any idea how terrible the Empire’s priced Fighters actually were.

“C’mon,” Biggs said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “One last project before I leave for the Academy.”

Luke had also been trying his best to avoid thinking about how much he was going to miss his best friend. He wanted to leave with him – though not to be a common TIE-Fighter pilot, Luke wasn’t suicidal – but he couldn’t leave his family behind when they needed him.

“Alright,” Luke agreed, blushing. “Where are we going to get a TIE, though?”

Turned out that a TIE had crashed a while back and a junk dealer had picked it up. Unfortunately, despite its terrible damages, it was really expensive and Luke didn’t have that kind of money. It took a lot of work to scrap it all together – and he had been grounded for a month after winning the Boonta Eve Classic, but being the second human to ever win after Anakin Skywalker, his own father, had been worth it – but in the end Biggs and Luke had poured their funds together and bought the TIE.

And then the fun had started.

Vader sat down at his desk and pulled up the video again. He skipped to the moment the Head Engineer had stopped the video and hit play.

“Okay, first things first,” Luke said. “TIE’s were not made to be repaired. How do I know?”

Luke crawled into the pilot’s seat and opened the panels beneath it. “Because this is where the Empire would store the hyperdrive navigational systems, theft prevention protocols and life support, if the TIEs had any!”

He disappeared beneath the panels and began taking out the machinery, handing it to the HK-77 droid. Tatooine’s junkyards had always been a treasure chest, but finding C-3PO there had been astonishing. An assassination droid was worth much more than a mere protocol droid. Vader would have to check if the boy talked about how he’d acquired it somewhere.

“What kind of moron designs a ship that doesn’t have that?” Luke spoke up, his voice echoing. “I know who. They’re called Sienar Fleet Systems and go back to the Clone Wars.”

Luke stood up, and placatingly held up his hands. “I know, the Empire also made some pretty cool ships. I won’t lie, I’d kill to get my hands on the schematics on the Devastator, but the security of Kuat Drive Yards is too good.”

Luke paused.

“Not that I’d ever attempt to get a better look on them.”

The video zoomed in on Luke’s face and his frankly speaking terrible poker face in what was supposed be a comedic shot. Not many people would have the guts to admit they’d attempted to slice into KDY’s security and Vader doubted it was idiocy on the boy’s part. The youth was interesting and it became apparent rather quickly that he knew what he was talking about. He would certainly make a good asset to Vader’s crew, should he sign up.

“Point is,” Luke continued. “They cut all these extra measures out to lose weight and mass produce these TIEs with the lowest costs possible. However, even out here on Tatooine we’ve got ships with really small and efficient support systems, so I’ll dig through this mess down here and make some space for life support first.”

Luke then pointed on the rather large box standing next to him. “All I need for that is in this box. I uploaded the schematics to my usual server. It’s free to download, but I’d be very thankful if you could leave me a tip because I am broke until I’ve gotten this project done.”

Vader only skimmed through the next hours as Luke was working on taking the TIE’s insides apart. He explained what he was doing more or less coherently. It was clear he was lacking some of the terminological knowledge needed to describe the precise measures he took, but he was a rather efficient worker.

“Not sure yet if I can get my hands on a hyperdrive that won’t blow up on me, but we’ll see,” Luke said during the last minute of the video. “Theft prevention, however, I can work with.”

The video cut again and by now only the last beams of sunlight were illuminating the sands.

“Check this,” Luke said and pulled back his arm, a hydrospanner in hand, and threw it at full strength at the outer shell of the TIE. Upon impact, the TIE began blaring alarms.

“Nailed it,” Luke declared confidently while the HK-77 next to him gave him a thumbs up and presumably his friend behind the camera, held his thumb up in front of the recording as well.

“And this concludes part one of-“ Luke began to speak, only to be interrupted by a man’s shout.

“LUKE SKY-“

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, eyes wide. “Stop recording, Biggs, stop-“

The video ended and a couple of suggestions popped up, all with equally unserious titles such as ‘Killing it with a Murderbot’, ‘Repairing a hyperdrive but your arm is broken and All Stars is playing’ and ‘Garbage Summary of Republic/Imperial Ships’. The most recent upload was titled ‘Status Update: Scrap Hunters vs. Guardians.’

Vader decided to play it.

The channel’s introduction started to play against and soon after there was a recording of the black-haired boy playing.

“Hello, fellow Hunters,” the young man said, smiling widely. “I’m Biggs and unfortunately, I have to do today’s video by myself.”

He closed his eyes and in fake serenity added, “I hope you’ll enjoy it despite the lack of our overly bright mechanic and resident murderbot. Don’t worry, I know you’re all not actually watching this for me.”

Biggs sat still as writing appeared in the upper corner. I’m also just here for Luke. Hit me up at @darkestlight if you feel like it.

“Anyway,” Biggs continued and the writing disappeared. “This short video is just an update on our current situation. First of all, we’re super happy to see that so many people enjoyed our newest video. The next parts will be uploaded as soon as we can get our hands on the items we need, which might take a while given that Luke has been grounded from working on the TIE for the foreseeable future. If you have any questions for him though, feel free to drop him a message @skyseekerpilot, he’s still got access to the holonet.”

From out of the camera’s reach, he pulled a piece of flimsi, showing off the account’s name and a small doodle of what Vader assumed was meant to be Luke.

“Written by yours truly,” Biggs said and set the flimsi aside. “We’re thinking of doing a Q&A in the near future to bridge the time between the actual next update. Feel free to send us any kind of question! That being said, don’t miss us too much!”

The video stopped and Vader almost found himself being disappointed. The youth had certainly talked a lot about unimportant things, it was clear that he was a mere aid to Luke. Perhaps contacting the boy about his ideas would be worth it.

Luke was bored out of his mind. Honestly, he hated being grounded. Nothing new to tinker with, only work and endless hours of chores and browsing the holonet. He supposed he could work a little more on his schematics, but he didn’t really feel like it. Sitting down and actually sketching what he was thinking was always the most difficult part of the process. Most of the time, Luke just knew and could figure out what he had to fix. He worked by instinct alone, but that didn’t really help others so he had to write things down properly.

Annoyed, Luke flopped down on his bed again. He hoped that Biggs at least would be allowed to come over again soon. It was just so boring without anyone around.

“I could get rid of the problem,” HK-77 offered from where it was sitting in the corner.

“No, thank you, Hagekay,” Luke replied. “I guess I’ll just check the ‘net again.”

He took out his datapad and began skimming his usual sites. He watched the video Biggs had uploaded and looked a little though all the comments they’d already gotten. Their channel had really blown up in the past days and a lot of people seemed quite eager about the possibility of a Q&A, already shooting off questions. Luke switched over to his page and saw a steady amount of questions and comments come in. A lot of them were rather personal, but one caught his attention.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick asked:

You pay a great deal of attention to enhancing the pilot’s safety and protection in the events of a crash, but how do you intend to make up for the lesser maneuverability? The added weight will lower the TIE’s speed to 1,112 KPH and in actual combat, the added speed is necessary. If one considers the lack of deflector shields, the TIE becomes much more vulnerable, to a degree that even your additions will not work. I’d like to hear your suggestions as to how you would solve that problem.

Reading the message, Luke began to smile widely. Fighterfan had obviously sat down to do the proper math. Luke, admittedly, had only done some rough calculations but his result had been almost the same and he’d immediately began searching or results.

Easy, he wrote back, grinning like a madman. I add deflector shields and modify a hyperdrive of the Interio Class. ;)

Luke knew that his holonet connection wasn’t exactly the best. There was a reason Biggs was the one who uploaded their content. Sometimes, especially before, during and after sandstorms, Luke could forget doing anything with his datapad. So when he got a reply barely thirty minutes later, he knew that the other person must have replied immediately.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

The Interio Class hyperdrives are slow at best and do not work at all at worst. I take it you intend to break it down so far that it cannot actually do a hyperspace jump but still accelerates much faster than any other engine?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

Exactly!!! :D Should push the speed back up to 1,200 KPH despite the added weight! I’d also suggest changing the wings to bent-wing solar arrays, but I don’t have the materials for that right now :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

While the flight controls were designed to be intuitive and easy to learn, very few people would be skilled enough to fly a ship with the modifications you are proposing.

Luke smirked. It would be dangerous indeed, but he’d be able to make it. He’d stretch out his senses, feel the vast expanses of space around him, the million planets and stars and he’d rush right past them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

I could. :)

Vader hadn’t been sure what to expect of his conversation with Luke. The boy certainly proved that he was bright and clever. Not just intelligent, he knew exactly what his modifications would do to the TIE- Fighter. Despite his excessive need to tag emojis onto his every message and add exclamation marks, actually talking about ships to somebody who couldn’t care less about Imperial regulations was almost enjoyable. The boy’s suggestions were refreshing and unorthodox and a few of them even puzzled Vader for a moment until he was able to follow Luke’s train of thought.

Soon he found himself looking forward to the boy’s messages, even if he couldn’t bring himself to care particularly much about the daily life of a teenage moisture farmer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that he was almost a little annoyed Luke was still a child and therefore couldn’t accept a job offer. Well, Vader would simply have to wait a little longer to get his hands on his next Head Engineer. Until then, messaging him while pretending to listen to some Moffs blab away about the Death Star yet again, would have to suffice.

He had learned nothing but patience in the past years.

“Welcome back to Scrap Hunting!” Luke announced excitedly. “As you can see, I have returned to the land of the living!”

“He’s still grounded,” Biggs said next to him. “I’m just allowed to visit now.”

Luke rolled his eyes and lightheartedly punched his friend into his side. “Don’t make fun of me. I was incredibly lonely.”

Biggs smiled and messed up Luke’s hair in return. “Sure, whatever you say. Anyway! We collected a lot of comments in the meanwhile and decided to do the promised Q&A about ourselves. Luke, if you’d do the honors to read the first question.”

“Sure!”

Luke reached for the datapad in front of them and started it up. He spent a few moments scrolling through it, then stopped and began to read out loud. “For Biggs: In the video repairing Hagekay you said that it keeps threatening you. Does it still do that?”

“All the time,” Biggs replied seriously. He raised his hands in a what-can-you-do kind of way and then dropped them again with a sigh. “Literally. I don’t think this droid likes anyone but Luke and the mouse droid keeping the house clean.”

Biggs frowned and looked around as if he were searching for something. “Where is Emmy? It always seems so eager to clean up after me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe got lost in Aunt Beru’s closet again, wouldn’t be the first time. Alright, you do the next question.”

Biggs took the datapad from him and moved on to the next inquiry.

“What the kriff is your title song?” Biggs read, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Just let it die please.”

Luke on the other hand immediately jumped up in excitement. “Oh! It’s every fifth note of my favorite song so it doesn’t get taken down for copyright reason. I’ll put a link in the description.”

“Question #3: Where do you live?” Luke stared straight ahead into the camera. “Tatooine, Outer Rim desert world. Do not recommend unless you can survive without a lot of water.”

Beside him, Biggs nodded. “Indeed, not the best place to raise your children. Question number four: Could you upload Hagekay’s original programming?”

The two boys looked at each other and finally shook their heads while staring suspiciously at the camera again. “What could you possibly need the programming of an assassin droid for?”

“Next up: How old are you? And how long have you been working on projects like this?”

Luke frowned and turned to Biggs. “Didn’t we say that before once?”

Biggs only shrugged. “No idea, you talk a lot when you’re working.”

“You love to hear me talk,” Luke replied teasingly. “Well, I’m seventeen and Biggs is nineteen. I’ve been doing repairs on droids for as long as I can think. Speeders and ships are new additions.”

“Same for me,” Biggs said. “You can’t grow up in the middle of nowhere running a moisture farm and not be at least a half-decent mechanic. Okay, next question: What was your favorite project so far? Hmm, I think I enjoyed ‘Hagekay vs Emmy with a viroblade’ the most. You?”

Luke chewed on his lip and paused, deeply lost in thought.

“The TIE-Fighter,” he said eventually. “Even if I wasn’t so sure about it at first. That reminds me! I don’t know how many of you have seen the bits of the conversation that aren’t private, but you should seriously check out Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick. The ship modifications he speaks of are the best and a couple of them will definitely end up in the TIE, credit given, of course. When we’re done with this video, I’ll go right back to replying to your thoughts about navigation systems because I totally agree-“

“Alright, alright,” Biggs interrupted, clasping his hand over Luke’s mouth. “Nerd out with your new best friend somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Luke huffed and, going by the way Biggs quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth and wiped it on his shirt saying “ewww”, had licked it.

“What are you? Five?” Biggs complained.

Luke laughed. “Compared to your mature six? Alright, next question-“

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about a way to solve the take-off issue yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Noooooo (TT^TT). It’s so stupid, why does anyone design a ship that lacks landing gear? I mean, I get it, these were built for space combat but it just seemed unnecessary that you need an extra start up. What do you do when somebody crashed on a planet? Leave them there????

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. TIEs are viewed as expendable, due to their cheap production costs, as are their pilots. The Empire prefers quantity over quality.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That just seems incredibly short-sighted. What kind of person doesn’t go back to save their friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are wrongly presuming that TIE-Fighter pilots have friends.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

So you don’t have any friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh gosh I’m SO SORRY! I didn’t mean that, I just wanted to ask whether you were TIE pilot bc you seem to know the ships so well and I didn’t want to be rude

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I’m sorry!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Super sorry!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. I was stuck in a briefing and couldn’t reply. You mustn’t worry. I do not have any friends, nor do I want them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off and I’m sorry for overreacting. But you really don’t have any friends? Doesn’t that get lonely? Biggs has been gone barely a couple weeks and I’m already going crazy. I miss him a lot.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are too dependent on him, Luke. You do not need him.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I do! He always had my back, ever since we were small. And even if you don’t want any friends, you can be sure that I will consider you mine. No expectations of course! But I really enjoy talking to you and I have learned so much since we started talking!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have also found our talks to be pleasant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yay!!!!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You wanted to ask me whether I am a TIE-Fighter pilot. I own a TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

WHAT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

REALLY???? THAT’S SO COOL THEY ONLY STARTED MANUFACTURING THEM LAST YEAR. How fast does it accelerate? Are the stabilizers really that improved? No wait tell me about the hyperdrive which did they go with? Does it use a Class 4.0? I would have built in a Class 7.0 but they’re more expensive and hard to really stop correctly if you’re not like a great pilot ooOOOH WAIT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU are flying a TIE/AD!!!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. Which ship do you serve on??? Please, please, please tell me about the Destroyers I’ve been wanting to compare them to Republic ships since FOREVER but I couldn’t find any good sources pls I’ll pay in an extra special videos

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Give me a few hours.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU ARE THE BEST!

Vader could not fathom what was wrong with Luke. Nobody wanted to be friends with Darth Vader, certainly he had never given the boy the impression that he was interested in such a relationship? He had merely strived to see what the boy was capable of. He shouldn’t supply the boy with more in-depth plans to his ships and yet he found himself downloading the corresponding schematics. It had been a while since he had been able to carry on a conversation that was actually on his level and engaging as well. Luke was only improving and Vader wanted to keep him. Good personnel was hard to come by and Luke was something different entirely.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have sent you the plans we talked about. Have you ever considered signing up for the Imperial Academy?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yes, but I can’t go this year because my uncle still needs me on the farm :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I am able to get you a contract as civilian consultant. You’d be able to work from home.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What? Is that really a thing?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

If you give me your personal data, I’ll send you a contract.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Thank you!! It’s Luke Lars! My ID is T-LL-2187-A23. Also, uploaded a new video for you :D Hope you enjoy my misadventures!

Luke was sitting on his bed, HK-77 standing beside him, holding out various tools while the mouse droid Emmy was sitting in his lap.

“Hello, everybody and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting! Today is a special compilation dedicated too @thatsaneattrick, who basically gave me an early birthday present. So, sit back and enjoy a compilation of the things we usually cut from our videos! I’m Luke, my helper today is HK-77 and shout out to Biggs who is currently studying a couple of planets away from me!”

The video cut away to start showing the first in a series of rather short escapades featuring at least one member of the trio.

The first video showed Luke working on the TIE’s wings, singing underneath his breath. “This was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to be functional, functional at all.”

The next video depicted Luke working in the background while Biggs and HK-77 were staring intensely at each other, Emmy stuck between them, driving forwards and backwards like they were trying to keep the two from fighting.

“Where did you hide my hydrospanner.”

“I did no such thing, Biggs.”

The recording blurred as Biggs threw himself on HK-77.

It was dark. The camera slowly focused on Emmy attempting to drive up to the TIE fighter but getting stuck because of the sand. Two giggles could be heard.

“We have to help Emmy,” Luke whispered.

“Yes, wait- oh, Em’s gonna fall over-“

The video slowed down as Emmy tragically fell to its side and couldn’t get up again.

“It’s so kriffing clumsy, like a baby,” Biggs laughed.

“It’ll get there someday.”

In white writing, the message Hasn’t Happened Yet showed up.

“Luke, what are you?”

Luke sighed and looked downcast. “A good mechanic?”

“Then why is the TIE’s cockpit smoking?”

“I was just taking a look at the repulsorlift antigravity field- oh, kriff it’s burning.”

“What!?”

Ever since Biggs had left, Luke’s conversations with Fighter became the most fun part of his days. Sometimes, replies took a little longer depending on how busy and far away Fighter was, but their talks never failed to bring a smile to Luke’s face, no matter how standoffish Fighter acted.

Luke checked his messages again, hoping to catch a new message from Fighter. Sadly, none were in his inbox, only something from a stranger.

Lord Vader @ImperialCommand: Consultant Contract

Luke frowned.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about my job offer yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Job offer? You were really serious about that? O.o

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Of course, did you not see the attachment I sent you?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I never got a message with a job offer, so I thought you were joking!!! The only thing I got was a message by some guy pretending to be Vader. Didn’t even bother to open that, who knows what kind of virus I could have caught. -.-‘

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Someone pretended to be Lord Vader? Surely nobody would actually be so ignorant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Idk! I had to go on his holo page and it seemed legit but there’s no way the emperor’s slaver would ever message me I’m not that naive

…

Fighter?

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You would do well not to spread such rebel propaganda anywhere others could find them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Rebel propaganda???

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Do you mean the ‘slaver’ thing?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That’s not propaganda, that’s what Vader is. I know your serve in the Navy, and probably met him once or so. I can’t judge what kind of superior he might be, but his behavior is that of a slaver.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What do you know of slavery, child?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I live on Tatooine, remember? Hutts control everything. And my father was a slave, that’s why I have to go by my uncle’s last name, least of all somebody thinks I’m a runaway just cause my father’s name was ‘Skywalker’.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What was your father’s name.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

His name was Anakin Skywalker, he died towards the end of the last war. Freed himself as a child and became a navigator on a spice freighter. I don’t know much more about him, my aunt and uncle only met him once for my grandmother’s funeral and that’s it. I’m sure he was a good man, though. I just know it.

The boy, Luke, was living Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. Vader had known his last name was Lars, had even seen him mention Owen and Beru multiple times, but he hadn’t made the connection-

Quickly, he pulled up the files he had made on the boy. It said in his documents that he had been adopted by Owen Lars and Beru Whitesun Lars, no mentioning of his biological parents anyway. Vader hadn’t paid any attention to it because it happened often enough on Tatooine. Newborns were smuggled bought out of the slave quarters so they’d get a better life. The boy could be lying, of course, but what would he seek to gain from this ploy?

Anakin Skywalker was dead and everything he had held dear had burned with him, his Master had seen to it.

But hadn’t the boy’s smile reminded him of his dear wife? His excitement for ships, his brilliance- Vader had assumed that some of his stories might have been exaggerated, but maybe he had performed all those death-defying stunts indeed and it was the Force which had saved him.

Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.

It was impossible to think that he had managed to find him through mere interest. The Force must have led him to his son.

His son.

His Master had lied to him, deceived and betrayed him.

Snarling, Vader left his rooms behind and marched towards his personal hanger. He had to go now, reach his son and protect him before the Emperor would diminish his light. Vader would make them pay, all of them, every single person involved in keeping his child from him would be destroyed.

The past weeks had not been particularly interesting or happy for Luke. Ever since his discussion with Fighter, the other man had completely cut their communication. No matter how many messages Luke sent him, he didn’t reply.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Fighter didn’t say much about his background, but if he was skilled enough to be trusted with a TIE/ad, he had likely grown up on some Imperial Core World, surrounded by the Empire and Vader’s image and didn’t see things the way some Outer Rim kid would. It was too bad that their conversation had stopped. Even if they couldn’t agree on the Empire’s policies, ships were still ships.

He’d miss talking to Fighter.

Luke dragged himself out of his room to go in the kitchen for lunch. He had halfway crossed the homestead when a man in a dark robe hurried down the steps.

“Luke!” He said and threw back his hood, revealing himself as Old Ben Kenobi.

“Oh, hi, Ben! Is everything alright?”

Ben shook his head and a pained expression crossed his face. He looked like he was in a hurry, but Luke could feel the fear lingering in the air.

“We need to go, now,” Ben said hurriedly. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Beru went into the city and Uncle Owen is out working on the vaporators,” Luke replied slowly.

Ben’s behavior was confusing him. He’d known the older man since he could think. He had never said a thing, but Luke knew he was the one who had made a lot of the model ships now proudly displayed in his room and made sure the Tuskens stayed away from their homestead.

Ben was a nice and kind man, carrying a lot of grief. He was a little strange, but not mad. If he was worried about something, Luke figured he should as well.

“Then there is no time to get them,” Ben said and took Luke’s hand. “We must hurry.”

“Ben, what’s going on?” Luke asked and let himself be pulled along to the homestead’s entrance and out into the sun. “Why are we running?”

“We need to go before he’s here-“ Ben stopped abruptly and stared right ahead.

A black demon stood in some distance from the two of them. He looked like the monsters out of the stories Luke had been told as a child and now knew to be real. Lord Vader.

Ben let go of Luke’s hand and took a step forward, keeping Luke behind him.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice was deep, mechanic and artificial. “I have finally found you.”

“So you have, Darth,” Kenobi replied and ignited a lightsaber of a light blue color.

Vader followed suit, his blade an angry red and soon after they were clashing against one another, whirling up the sand. Luke hadn’t known Ben could fight like that, keep every move so fluent despite the ground he was standing on. He met each of Vader’s aggressive strikes with equal strength.

Luke felt like he was suffocating.

He had to stop them, he knew it. He didn’t know why or how, but if he didn’t do anything, the desert would swallow them up.

“What is going on!?” Luke shouted. The two fighters turned to him and it occurred to Luke only then that shouting mid-battle was probably not his smartest move, but what else was he supposed to do.

“You have been deceived all your life, young one,” Vader said. “Kenobi stole you from me, kept you hidden so you wouldn’t inherit your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Luke repeated. “I’m sorry, what are you even talking about.”

“Your father-“

“Was a good man,” Ben interrupted, his words as sharp as a knife. “And you ruined him.”

“You left me to burn!” Vader screamed. “You said you loved me and you left me behind for Sidious to take and remake as he wanted. You took my son from me and let him grow up on the Force-forsaken planet! You stole years from me, months of being unaware of who I was talking to.”

My son, the winds seemed to echo Vader’s words, dancing around Luke’s small frame. The weight behind them almost seemed to push him over.

“Father?” Luke realized. The wind roared in agreement, rushed through Luke’s mind as a barely comprehendible mess acknowledging an impossible truth.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Going on a galactic roadtrip for the foreseeable future! :D

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

(Somebody please get me off this ship they keep glaring at each other it’s so awkward)

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Pros of having parents: You don’t have to pay for lunch Cons of having parents: Lunch is ration bars

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

If not for the laws of this galaxy I’d have a glowing sword to cut through durasteel with

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I love discovering I have a godfather who is also a pirate while being held hostage by said godfather. 5/10 experience

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have the power of the Force and Hydrospanners on my side!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Turns out HK-77’s programming was not as thoroughly deleted as I thought. My bad.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

TIE-Fighters still suck. New video tomorrow together with @thatsaneatrick

“Hi!” The video showed a young blond man standing in what appeared to be a huge hanger. He was a little older than he had been in the last video uploaded on the channel.

Next to him sat an older man whose skin was as pale as ash. Many scars covered his face, the only part of his body that was actually visible. The rest was covered by dark robes. The third member of the group was another man with snow-white hair and beard. He sat in a safe distance from the ship behind the other two, reading through a datapad while drinking a cup of tea. All three of them carried lightsabers and it was practically impossible to ignore them.

“Welcome back to another episode of Scrap Hunting!” The blond continued. “I know, it’s been a year but I was pretty busy.”

He glanced at the man beside him and leaned slightly into his side, as if he were seeking comfort.

“Today we’re finally concluding our series ‘Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit’. Unfortunately, the original TIE-Fighter was lost, but Father crashes so many that we could easily start from scratch with a new one. The focus of this episode is finally adding the safety that prevents the twin ion engines from moving an energizer out of alignment so that the recharge systems won’t become ticking time bombs. Henceforth, we dedicate this episode to Darth Sidious, alias Emperor Palpatine. My name is Luke Skywalker. The man in the back is my Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-“ The old man looked up from his datapad to wave at the camera and then continued on reading “-and my helper today is my Father.”

Luke paused and smiled softly while the scarred man put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. The gesture seemed almost a little possessive, would certainly be like it if the man’s touch weren’t as gentle as a feather.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, his blue eyes shining as brightly as Luke’s, but much colder in nature. “And I’m coming for you, Sidious.”

The video flashed black, then brightened again, depicting a round emblem of two wings settled around a sword.

#star wars #Luke Skywalker #darth vader #Anakin Skywalker #biggs darklighter #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #memes and vine references

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