#the SLOWEST burn I've ever written in my LIFE

[thelaurenshippen]

to all the people who are always like "you can't call it a slow burn if it's under 60k", first of all you're right, second of all, I think you're gonna like this book I'm drafting, in which the first kiss occurs after...*checks manuscript* 82,000 words

[thephooka]

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

[fandomworld9728]

I return with another scenerio?

I really dont wanna be a bother I promise.

So, this takes place after Adam dies but since I can't handle character death he somehow comes back as a demon for a second chance or something. Vox finds Adam (or Adam finds Vox whatever you want) and they sorta make a deal (no soul, much to Vox's displeasure). Vox gives Adam a place to sleep and a job and Adam protects Vox since he still has his guitar (the guitar is linked to his soul so he cant really lose it).

After a while, Adam decides he wants to give this redemption crap a try because he misses the exterminators and other stuff. Vox decides to go with Adam (why? its up to you, fight with the Vees, he doesnt trust Adam alone, he doesnt want to be left alone again, whatever).

The Hotel crew was invited to heaven to talk about the hotel and redemption as a second chance, everyone was invited and everyone went (including Alastor, shockingly), But since Lucifer was kicked out he really cant go to heaven so he has to stay and watch the hotel.

Theres a knock on the door and, surprise surprise, its Adam and Vox (whos glaring at Lucifer, for some reason). They explain their situation and why they're here and Lucifer's like "Sure, cant do anything anyways since i'm here."

Lucifer now realizes how much of mistake that was. Not because Adam and Vox are assholes, no no he can deal with assholes, but because he is watching the worlds SLOWEST slow burn fanfic ever, in real life. He has to watch these to be so fucking in love with each other but they are so oblivious.

Vox is the type where he doesnt know he loves Adam so Adam could tell Vox "I love you" and Vox would be like "huh?"

Adam knows he likes Vox but hes scared to be rejected so he refuses to say anything and is willing to love from afar.

its to the point where Lucifer is about to do what girls do with their doll and make them kiss or SOMETHING.

If you wanna write when the hotel crew returns, then they're gonna walk in and see a drunk Vox singing something, Adam looking at the TV man like he hung the stars (/pos), and Lucifer looking exasperated while watching the two. Because I find that would be so funny.

(This was written for only Vox and Adam but if you want you can squeeze Lucifer in there or something, idk. I also feel like Alastor knows how oblivious Vox is since he watched Valentino try to romance him but Vox was like "Oh, as a friend!" so I feel like that could lead to a funny scene where Alastor and Lucifer can plot or something to get the two together? I dont want Alastor included in this through ship though, hes just like "If Vox is staying here he will be happy or SO HELP ME.")

Happy writing! -Bell

(I've never wrote anything for that pairing before. What a fun little challenge ^-^ )

Sitting in the parlor with the two Sinners, Lucifer stared them down. What in the Seven Rings could they be planning? "Tell me again why you're here?"

"I already told you-"

"Not you Adam. Him."

Lucifer didn't trust Vic- Vic? Vax? Whatever. He didn't trust the Sinner. Not after what Lucifer's learned from other Overlords that he was close with and from the residents from the hotel.

Not to mention he was around Adam. The first man. The first real friend Lucifer had ever made. No matter what bad blood was between them, he would always have a soft spot for the human soul. That protectiveness was once again showing itself whether he liked it or not.

"The two of us have a deal. He protects me with his power, and I give him a place to stay. However, I no longer have that. I've had it with Valentino, how he breaks our employees, and how he chooses his favorite porn stars over our relationship."

"You two had a falling out and you're the one who left?"

"Yes, well, can't really be protected if we aren't in the same living space now, can I?"

"I suppose that is fair. But if you're going to be staying here, you will not be causing or bring problems to my hotel, her friends, and her hotel. You will put in actual effort by either trying redemption or working here."

"We get it Luci. We'll play nice, okay?"

"Yes, your majesty- Luci?"

"Yeah. We knew each other since I was created. I'm gonna call him Luci."

~

This was a mistake. Why had Lucifer allowed them into his precious daughter's hotel? Why was he the one left here all alone to baby sit them and suffer through Slow Burn Hell?!

With Charlie and the other residents in Heaven for a meeting, Lucifer was the only one here to keep an eye on the two Sinners. So, when he had gone behind the bar to get himself a drink with their bartender gone the other two decided they wanted to indulge in a good drink also. That had been another mistake. Allowing them to drink.

Now, not only would he have to explain what they were doing there when everyone returned, but also why they were drunk. Maybe he'd have enough time to get them sober or at the very least in bed before that happened.

"Dad! We're back!"

Fuck. Spoke too son. Way to go jinxing yourself Lucifer.

~

"Dad. You did this?"

"Charlie I can explain-"

"This is amazing!"

". . .What?"

Lucifer had expected her to be upset, much like Vaggie and Alastor were when they saw Vix and Adam when they returned from their meeting in Heaven. Vaz was one of the people who let the mistreatment of Angel to happen, and Adam tried to kill them. And had killed on of their other friends. 

"I know Sinners aren't your favorite people, but this is a great first step towards your own self redemption! Giving people second chances. I am so proud of you. This is actually what the Hazbin Hotel is about."

Proud? Proud of him? He felt his heart soar at his little girl's words. But he wasn't sure if it was as amazing as she thought. Vox was standing up on the bar singing That's Amore loudly and off key while Adam watched him. Looking at the Overlord like some sort of lovesick teenager. Gross. Was that what he was like with Lilith?

At least some of the others were getting enjoyment out of the two drunks. Angel was laughing with recording the two on his phone and Husk was pouring them more drinks to keep their entertainment going.

"Babe. I'm glad that you're so... psyched for this. But we need to get them to bed so we can go to bed. I don't trust them as far as I can throw them and I'm so tired."

"Right. You're right."

~

"I hate this so much."

"As do I, sire."

Jumping with a yelp, Lucifer glared at his least favorite person from the floor. "Stop doing that, you creepy fuck."

"But it is oh so entertaining!" Offering the other end of his cane to the small man, Alastor pulled him up. "What is not is whatever is going on between those two morons."

"So, you noticed it too?"

"You would have to be blind not to sense the tension between them. Not to mention, our dear Charlie will not shut up about how 'adorable' they are together."

"Not the word I would use."

"Agreed. Now, what do we do about them. Because I will not be dealing with an oblivious and miserable Vox while he is living in my territory."

"Wow. You Overlords really are territorial, aren't you?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk."

~

Hiding around a corner, Lucifer had to admit that as much as he didn't like Alastor, this was a lot more fun than he thought it would be. It had been a while since he had played cupid with anyone. 

"Alright. Here they come. You remember the plan?"

"Yes, yes. You will talk to Adam, and I will unfortunately talk to Vox. And will help them through this little issue so this can finally be put to an end."

"You know, you always sound like a pissed off middle aged woman."

"Excuse me-"

"Shut up. They're here."

Not paying attention to where they were walking, their targets almost crashed into each other.

"Oh shit. Sorry about that dude- man- Vox." Rubbing the back of his neck, Adam couldn't believe he was acting like this. Again. For the third time in his life.

And it begins. Poor Adam was a nervous mess. Lucifer remembered the last time the first man had acted like this was when he had first met Eve. At least she had made the transition into a relationship so much smoother then whatever this cluster fuck was.

"It's fine. I wasn't watching where I was going. Valentino keeps blowing up my phone. Just a warning, he might come here and make a scene now that I'm not there to talk him out of having his hissy fits."

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah. I know."

Face palming, Alastor couldn't believe this man could get any stupider. And he had wondered why Alastor had rejected him all those years ago. This had to end. Now. Or so help him, he was going to kill someone. Most likely the both of them.

~

"I thought you two talked to them and set up a date for them."

"We did. It went right over Vork's head."

"Are you getting his name wrong now on purpose?"

"Yes. Because I'm mad at him."

Angel didn't know what was worse. The romantic and sexual tension between Vox and Adam or the fact that this was actually helping Lucifer and Alastor get along for the first time since they met. Looks like it was time for him to take matters into his own hands. Going over to the two who was causing all of this, Angel snapped his fingers in their faces to grab their attention away from each other.

"Alright. We're all fuckin' done with this bullshit. You two need to just fuck already. That and go on a goddamn date. We can't stand this anymore. We're losin' our ever lovin' minds!"

"...What? Angel that's ridiculous. Adam doesn't- ..."

"Did the right wires finally connect in that empty head of yours?"

"I think I'm gonna go."

"Go? No. We're talking about this- Adam don't you run from me!"

Watching the two run around the hotel like a couple of children, Lucifer was flabbergasted. "IT WAS THAT EASY?!"

(Here is the song I referenced)

[krankittoeleven]

Can I do an offshoot of a tag game? inspired by the TV show tag game: Rules: 10 (non-ancient) books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

I was tagged by @aeide and @brasideios

Boooks! I'm going to aim for a variety here, though a lot of these will probably lean to horror, but believe me, there is variety in horror lol. These are all the first things that came to mind in no particular order, except the first book which is...just...always...there.

This got long so I put it below a cut.

House of Leaves by Mark Z Danielewski - if I ever figure out what it is about haunted or weird houses, liminal spaces, and abandoned places etc. that I enjoy so much I think I will figure out something about myself. I mean, I know it has to do with solitude and emptiness or something, but it has to be more than that. Anyway, HOL is insane in its presentation, and I think should be experienced at least once, but it takes several readings to see everything (I think this will be perfectly clear after reading it once, but I know not everyone can devote that much time to one book). My favorite fun fact that I've heard about HOL is that MZD didn't intend to write a horror story, but instead a romance, and it just happened to take place in what some people consider a spoopy book.

Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams & Mark Carwardine - I think if I were to HIGHLY RECOMMEND any book on this list for a broad audience, this would be THE ONE. The premise is that DNA and Mark go on trips around the world to seek out some of the most endangered animals on the planet and to bring to the public eye the conservation efforts etc. surrounding those animals (this was in the 90s). The book is funny, inspirational, heartwarming and heartbreaking, sometimes bleak, sometimes delightful, and always fascinating. It has inspired a lot of conservation efforts since it was published, even now, long after DNA's death, which I think would make him very happy. My favorite story is about their crew trying to buy condoms in China so they could waterproof their mics to record river dolphins. CLASSIC.

John Dies at the End by David Wong - Horror, Humor and Satire all come together to create an incredibly entertaining read. This is one of my overall favorite books, its just weird, stupid and funny. It's best if you don't take it too seriously.

The Terror by Dan Simmons - one of my favorite historical fiction books (based around the disappearance of the HMS Terror and HMS Erebus, two British Naval ships lost in the artic). It is the slowest of slow burn, slow creep suspense. If you enjoy audiobooks I highly recommend this one in audio, it is a long read at about 800 pages, but reading it is it's own experience. I really like reading about people exploring really treacherous place so this fits the bill.

When You are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris - I have always loved David Sedaris' stories, he has been a constant presence in my life for many years and I am always amazed at how open he is about his family life (much to the chagrin of his family sometimes lol). This collection in particular holds a special place for me because it helped me get through quitting smoking, which was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I had read the book previously and knew that the last story, When You are Engulfed in Flames, was about David's own experience quitting smoking. I listened to the audiobook a lot during that time, usually while crying quietly under a blanket. LOL

Glamorama by Bret Easton Elis - I'm usually pretty loathe to recommend this to anyone, lest they think I am a psychopath, but seriously this is one of the best satires of consumerism ever written if you can just get past the blood and gore. If you don't know who Bret Easton Elis is, he wrote American Psycho. If you don't know what American Psycho is then skip this book (and maybe skip it even if you do) LOL

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami - I can see why this is one of Murakami's lesser know liked works, but I think it is one of the easiest to comprehend as well (IDK maybe Murakami purists like being confused and saying HUH? a lot). There is an exceptional amount of character growth and discovery to this story and it was not anything near what I thought it would be so that probably scored it some extra points. This isn't even my fave Murakami book, but it's what popped into my head.

The King in Yellow by Robert W Chambers - I feel like I would be doing all of my blog names a disservice if I didn't at least mention TKIY. Have you seen the yellow sign?

Help a Bear is Eating Me by Mykle Hansen - look, everything you need to know about this book is in the title. Also, it's pretty funny.

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman - much like House of Leaves, I will never get over this story. Technically is a short story, but you can by it on its own so that makes it a book in my eyes lol Although this wasn't intended to be horror, as far as I know, it is one of the most horrifying things I've ever read. Without agency and autonomy we are nothing.

I will tag @theinkandthesea @mini-uzzy @liminalspacecowboah @troublemakingrebel @getfuckedyahoo @akashadarkblade @ainulindaelynn, @erzsebetrosztoczy and whoever else wants to.

[foxtwink]

i think one reason why i love reading so much, especially poetry and prose, is the depth of emotion i can feel without any real risk to myself. a book is a guided tour, a multicourse gourmet meal you can trust the dedicated chef to deliberately prepare. a book is the drop of a roller coaster: the incarnate knowledge of safety and unreality, despite my suspension of disbelief, despite my inherent fear in the moment. so when i hurt i pick up a book and I try to follow the characters without writing myself into them. but somewhere along the way minds meld together- like smoking weld, two perspectives becoming one. two shards of sharp metal that hurt each other and melt each other and dissolve each other, absolve each other; two corrosive chemicals mixing in a thermal reaction (and a cloud of smoke). i blink and suddenly i am here in a world where you alternate between yourself and a shadow of a character written by some meditation/crystal go-getter in a plush couch.

you know, if you love someone so fiercely that becoming anything more would kill you, you'd rather not love at all. that's me. and if you've lived your whole life destroying things (yourself and others), then one day you start choosing the being alone over the everyone else. that's you. i've been burned so many times by so many different things (the sun and the stars in your eyes). my aversion to fire is strong but not as wildly magnetic as my attraction. you know, my best friend loves the water. as a child, she used to throw herself into open water, into pools and lakes. you know, there was a girl at my elementary school who threw herself off the very top roof of our play structure because she believed so confidently that she could fly. she even tried to convince us all that we could too. they had to call an ambulance. you know, one time asa a child i believed i could tumble, so fiercely that i launched into a flip knowing nothing. i landed on my face, smashed my skull into a corner table, and bled.

i don't know what these things mean; we are deluded and desperate. i don't know what it means when i keep making excuses to see you, refusing to look directly into the desire. see, you are not something i allow myself to explore too closely. like a tantalizing alley, like the twisted dark corridors of an abandoned building. you are dangerous and you are on fire and you are the slowest beating heart i have ever met. you are the glassy surface before a riptide, the great ocean shielding its deep mysteries below. i breathe, exist, simply be within the space. i don't jump down the crumbling walls of empty shafts, don't lay on eons-old furniture and stomp like a rowdy paranoid group of teenagers; don't poke my head inside the doors of musty shops and around corners of heavy shadows. i don't dare swim out into the waves, don't allow them to crash over my face; i don't learn to dive, don't set off with headlamps and harpoons. but i can't stop myself continuing to come back to you, over and over. like those infinite drives to the beach, or the heady smell of pines in the Santa Cruz mountains, over and over again in my mind. some unstoppable will, some hidden knowledge that i am inherently closer to what i seek when i'm around you. can't help the thought that you are mine, that i don't wanna share you, in the ways that an expert carefully guards their secret methodologies. like a particularly whimsical forest clearing, or a hotspot in the sea filled with rainbow fish. you make me feel like running in the rain, or in the dark. breathless, calamitous calm. the soft embrace of a dangerous thing trusting you, of settling dusk upon your shoulders. the ease of putting your bare hands inside the mouth of a malinois dog.

in many ways i return to you with my guards and filters the way i return to all the places that are not mine. like sitting on the beach, watching dolphins leap and spin just a few meters offshore. or the abandoned insane asylum, how i keep refusing to return without proper masks and gloves. there is even a certain apathy in my will to go back to santa cruz and see old friends, to ruin magical memories with fresher, more mundane ones. i know i could put in a little more effort, learn to take the bart and find my way to someplace that feels like a home. instead i watch and allow two threads that crossed to uncross, yanking at the loose end of a bracelet and finding the whole thing built out of slipknots. i watch crumbling history that no one cares about, stand with my feet on the earth and inherently hear the voices of the people, the trees, the wide open sky. i ask if you have work, but i don't ask if you need to go home because i know the ways we are: dancing around each other. an ocean and a wildfire, afraid to touch, afraid to extinguish. i don't know if i'm afraid even just to see you. these days, i don't know anything.

but some nights the last thing on my mind is how severely i shove away the hope of it all. the uncertainty, the doubt, the contained possibilities within an "i don't know." we never want to find out, so you spare me. because you don't want to hurt me, or because you don't want to hurt yourself. and i know you're right; i've been burned a few times. somebody like me, we don't get so close to the sparks and expect to come away clean. when i angle grind i lean my face over the piece, watching with precision while i guide my hands. i feel the sparks prick my face, my arms; i feel them stab and burn even as i stare in meditative stupor at their beauty. but those are sparks, and these? these are fireworks. these are bombs. it's true, i'm very safe in a lab; but i have never stopped a fire. when i play with my lighter you take it away. and the one in a million chance that we can set off something brilliant vanishes over the horizon with all our fears.

[noyzinerd]

Sterek Fic Recs

Here are links to my Top 10 favorite Sterek fics/series with my personal ringing endorsements for each. Not all of them are slow-burns, but most are, and all take place in canon.

1. By Any Other Name by entanglednow

33,090 words/Explicit

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

This is my number 1, absolute favorite Sterek fic. It currently has over 21,000 kudos and for good reason. Stiles and Derek lose their memories and have to figure out who they are, who did this to them, and how to get their memories back. The fic does a beautiful job utilizing Stiles' detective skills to retrace their steps and shows how well these two work as a team with just their personalities and no prior history. Plus, who doesn't enjoy a Supernatural-style, monter-hunting roadtrip? Just absolutely gorgeous, made me tear up at the end, very well written, love of my life.

2. Stepping Off The Razor's Edge by MissAnnthropic

25,301 words/Explicit

After the events of season 3b, the group in Beacon Hills graduate high school and move on with their lives… everyone except Stiles and Derek. Beset by their demons, they decide they need to get away for a while to clear their heads. Cue the road trip. (companion piece to “Occam’s Razor” but can be read alone)

This is actually Part 2 of a series, but can be read alone (which I highly recommend you do!!!). It honestly hits much harder when not tied to Part 1 (and in my opinion actually has very little to do with Part 1), the tones are completely different, and the ending of Part 1 left a sour taste in my mouth. Just trust me on this one. Read this without Part 1. If you're still curious, go back and read it AFTER. THIS fic, however, is one of the subtlest, slowest burns I've ever read. It's very gradual but not in a frustrating way, since it's giving Stiles enough time to heal. Stiles, one day, just goes, "I can't anymore" and drops everything, including school, to essentially run away from his problems. Instead of trying to stop him, Derek, without any questions, opens the passenger door and goes "Where to?". A long, epic roadtrip ensues where they ignore the rest of the world and go from allies to the only ones that truly understand each other. It is absolutely beautiful.

3. Amor Fati by alocalband

42,812 words/Explicit

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised. As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

This is probably the most well-written, in-character Derek I've come across. Prickly, snappy, but still cares for the well-being of others even if he doesn't show it. This fic is also meta at times in a funny way, with Stiles constantly calling out why the universe keeps shoving them together and why their lives keep playing out cliche' tropes. It doesn't get 4th-wall-break-ey, though, and it's mostly serious and hits you pretty hard in the beginning. It's not as overindulgent as you might think as you learn that all the times they're shoved together aren't just coincidence.

4. The Weight of Living by thecomedownchampion

7,083 words/Explicit

Healing was a slow process. It was like driving up a mountain in the winter without snow tires; you’d make a little progress, slip back a little, keep moving forward, get stuck in a snow drift and have to dig yourself out.

More Nogitsune trauma and Stiles trying to live with himself in the aftermath. No one but Derek truly understands what it's like to experience that much guilt and grief. Derek tries to show that Stiles is thoughtful and caring and nothing like the Nogitsune. There's a scene of Stiles remembering Derek's birthday that absolutely tore me up.

5. You Saw Me Standing Alone by orphan_account

43,947 words/Explicit

A pack of alpha werewolves is burning a war path through Beacon Hills; Stiles shouldn’t have the luxury of trying to get laid.

I honestly don't think I could describe this in a way to do this story justice. Just know that there's a reason that it's one of my top 5. The whole fic revolves around the Alpha pack wreaking havoc and leaving warnings all around town, mostly setting fires. Stiles and Derek steadily come together in a physical way but spend most of the time not quite knowing what their exact relationship is to one another. Stiles and Derek reminisce about loved ones, trading stories of fond memories. A story of navigating a relationship with neither one having any clue what they're doing or what they want, all while under a constant looming threat. There's also a bit in the beginning about Stiles taking some sort of healing potion that causes hallucinations, but so much other important stuff happens that you kinda forget about that part.

6. For You There's No Warning by Zee (orphan_account)

36,590 words/Explicit

Derek doesn’t know how Stiles always does this every time they have to work together: he gets Derek caught up in these ridiculous, circular conversations and Derek finds himself arguing over inconsequential things that he doesn’t actually feel that strongly about. It’s like Stiles has an innate ability to bring Derek down to his level of immaturity.

This is the best kind of dynamic. Their constant arguing and UST reaches a boiling point. You don't usually see this kind of fic from Derek's point of view, especially a Derek who, despite making the first move, is unsure and insecure and is just so terrified of taking advantage of Stiles, like Kate did to him (and the fear of becoming Kate is so crippling). It's also refreshing to see a headstrong Stiles that's confident and doesn't let Derek second-guess himself or run away when things get scary, who isn't afraid to say "Oh no you don't, buddy. We're going to sit here and talk this out." They're both awkward dorks that have a hard time communicating properly (it can get a little frustrating at times), but you can tell they're trying so earnestly, harder than they ever have with any other relationship. There's tons on monsters-of-the-week, hunters, witches, etc. There's plenty of excitement and drama. Also bottom!Derek, because he just needs someone to take care of him.

7. walk me down your broken line by geordielover

18,411 words/Explicit

The kissing. That’s important, very important. Not that the homicidal lycanthrope dragging him through dirt and fallen leaves isn’t important, but the kiss that follows? The path to this monumental push of lips on lips began even before this ill-fated venture to the Hale house. The douchebag manhandling him through the forest, hand clamped tight around Stiles’s throat to keep him from screaming, is just a bonus.

A cute, slow burn romance with a mostly soft Derek and an unsure Stiles that is always worried if the next thing he does is going to be what makes Derek break up with him (not realizing that Derek adores him). I love how supportive and understanding the sheriff is in this. Anyone who knows me will know that I'm a sucker for Stiles remembering Derek's birthday, but this fic reverses that with Derek being sweet and thoughtful for Stiles' birthday instead, which is almost just as nice. The main reason this fic is at my top 10 is because of one moment in particular, in which (not knowing of Derek's past with Kate) Stiles licks Derek's stomach...the aftermath of this broke me HARD. It is absolutely tragic for the both of them, but they find comfort in each other and it's very warming to read how they handle it. Plus, they face some monsters. All in all, their relationship is very wholesome and sweet, and not as heavy or riddled with grief as my other recommendations may be. You get the sense that they're together because they're fond of each other, not just because they're both hurting and lost.

8. We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) by notthequiettype

25,935 words/Explicit

Stiles is on his back on hard-packed dirt. He's cold and there are leaves stuck to his neck and there's a four inch gash in his side that he thinks he can feel his ribs through. There's so much blood around him he feels like he's floating on a pond and everything is so much dimmer above him than it was a minute ago, which is saying something because he's in the dark center of the forest in the middle of the night. And the worst of it is that he's alone, totally alone with the smell of his own blood drowning him and the soft side of him run through by a tree. As his eyes slip shut, the last thing he thinks is, "This is going to kill my dad."

Another cute slow burn but with a surprisingly funny Derek. Stiles gets hurt and Derek takes it upon himself to dote on him. Stiles has printed out werewolf research laying out on his desk and Derek makes a habit out of writing sarcastic and hilarious notes between the lines. Made all the more hilarious because, despite what he's writing, his demeanor doesn't change. He's still stone-faced and broody all while doodling dicks on Stiles' research. At the same time, Derek can be socially awkward. It's adorable how these two learn things about each other and the witty banter and quips between these two are non-stop and pure gold.

9. Trust Fall by Stoney

144,224 words/Explicit

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. **** Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

A body-swap fic that focuses on them learning each other's lives. Derek experiencing what it's like to have a father again via the sheriff is so heartwarming and Stiles learning about Derek's history with Kate is heartbreaking. I know I've got a few Derek comforting Stiles fics on this list, so here is a sweet Stiles comforting Derek fic. Stiles is also pretty hilarious in this, super funny one-liners and banter from Stiles.

10. The Nothing Less/Something More series by bigboobedcanuck

Total: 30,526 words

Part 1: Nothing Less 

11,422 words/Explicit

Derek even does up Stiles’s seatbelt, which Stiles thinks he should comment on, because it’s not like he got hit with kanima juice or something. He’s fine. But then Derek’s already sliding behind the wheel, and Stiles keeps losing little pockets of time.

Part 2: Something More 

19,104 words/Explicit

In this sequel to Nothing Less, Stiles and Derek navigate the choppy waters of their new relationship. They also have to deal with that nasty alpha pack, who aren't going away without a fight. Drama and angst ensues.

A two part series that MUST be read together. I cried and was frantically thinking the whole time "The author wouldn't do that, would they? WOULD THEY?!" There are major twists and turns in Part 2 that will make you want to stop the hurting, but TRUST ME, you HAVE to read it to the end. As expected, Part 1 is a slowburn of them getting together. Stiles asks Derek to teach him how to shoot so he can stop feeling helpless. Part 1, I should mention, starts off with the Alpha pack attempting to sexually assault Stiles before Derek rescues him. Nothing happens, but just figured I'd put a warning.

Edit: Sorry, it's taken so long to tag the authors, I kept forgetting, some took some time to find, and some don't have a Tumblr to the best of my knowledge. If anyone knows where to find who I missed, feel free to let me know (I left the orphan accounts alone on purpose out of respect to the authors).

@entanglednow , @alocalband , @stoneyboboney, @notthequiettype , @thecomedownchampion , @miss-annthropic

[illicitlimerence-writes]

best friend | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 6.8+k words request: yes/no. by an anon. "hey, first of all, i adore your writing! you have an ability to make the fic sound so real. could you do another Mick one shot, friends become more/reader works in the F1 industry, where neither of them want to ruin the friendship but when they go on a trip during winter break, they finally admit it? ❤️" thank you so much for sending this in. i'm sorry it took so long, but i hope this monster of a fic makes up for it. warnings: literally none. maybe some swear words. mentions of sex. tiny bit of angst. a/n: buckle up bitches, it's going to be a loong ride. i think this is the longest thing i've ever written and i'm not even sorry about it. get ready for the slowest fucking burn you've ever read.

my masterlist

this is a part two to 'best friend's brother'

a weekend in silverstone changed your life completely.

after attending the race with gina and mick you simply couldn't get enough of the sport. things seemed to be in your favor. you were majoring in journalism at uni, and with your newfound love of formula 1, you decided to take a few classes specialized on sports journalism.

four months after silverstone and once you finished your classes, you scored an internship with a sports magazine, showed a few articles you'd written on various topics, from art, to movies and entertainment, to, of course, formula 1. they loved them.

and now, almost an entire year after that first race at silverstone, you'd graduated, and were working for the formula 1 journalism department. gina had moved out, going back home to be with her family for a year before focusing on her career.

it seemed, though, that you couldn't keep yourself away from the schumachers. because whilst you didn't see gina every day, her brother took her place instead.

you saw each other almost every week, you were assigned to do interviews and press, which obviously meant to had to spend time together. mick always felt at ease when he saw you on the other end of the camera after a race, you always asked good questions and kept a playful but respectful banter.

the other drivers as well, liked when you did the interviews, because you didn't just ask about the technical aspects of how they drove, but how they were feeling, what they hoped would happen at the race and what they could do to improve. you always tried to lift their spirits up, which was why you were always the last person to interview each driver at the media pen.

having mick around so much was a blessing. he gave you a little insight on the drivers he knew and their personalities. telling you who you might joke around a bit and wouldn't take it personally, and those you had to keep it short and professional with.

with winter break approaching, you said goodbye to your first season of covering f1, and packed your bags to join the schumachers in switzerland to celebrate the holidays. corinna and mick invited you and you'd said yes without thinking twice.

you'd fly in with mick, two days after the last race in abu dhabi. the plan was to drive up the mountains until you reached their cabin, stay there for two or three days, and return just in time for christmas eve.

during the entire flight, you kept laughing and joking around, talking about memories and funny moments you lived the last months.

"do you remember when you almost threw up on the podium after doing a shoey with daniel?" you said, a cheeky smirk on your face as you relived the memory in your head. mick shook his head, burying his face in his hands, he was sitting in front of you.

"ugh, you just love bringing that up every chance you can, don't you?" he said, placing his elbow on the armrest, resting his cheek on his fist. you shrugged, smiling hard.

"i wouldn't be doing my job if i didn't try to get some juicy new headline," you joked, and mick rolled his eyes.

"mick schumacher: first podium ends in disaster" he said in a serious voice, pretending to be a tv presenter.

"you owe me one for saving your ass that time," you pointed at him with a finger.

"i know." he nodded, "that was a nice weekend," he added after a few seconds of silence, and you smiled in agreement as you thought back to that day.

mick had achieved his first podium in f1, ending in p3 at the 2022 mexican gp. thirty years after his father's own, at the same location. his embarrassing moment was outshined by the pure euphoria of mick continuing his father's legacy and starting his own.

"it was. lots of emotions," you'd been with him as he called his family after all the celebrations.

he asked you to keep him company, even though he'd been surrounded by such great friends all night, he felt ecstatic that you were there to celebrate with him.

you watched and listened as he spoke with his family, you caught a few words in german, he'd kept his promise and started teaching some basic words and sentences, but you couldn't understand everything they said between smiles and proud tears. your stomach felt funny, as did your heart, when you heard the pride in his mother's voice as she told him how proud she was of him, she knew the weight he felt on his shoulders, the pressure to keep his family name up high.

and as he spoke, so passionately, thanking them for everything they'd done for him you noticed when mick's eyes began tearing up, and you gently placed your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. his eyes flew to you, giving you a grateful smile. his mother noticed, and asked if he was alone, to which he simply moved the phone until you appeared on screen as well. you waved you hand, shy smile on your face as she said hi and began talking to you.

it was then that she asked for you to join them during the holidays, still about a month away, and it was mick's hopeful eyes that made you accept.

the funny feeling inside of you did not go away after that day. you didn't know why. you weren't sick or anything. you felt it then, as you watched mick remembering what was one of the happiest days of his life. you felt it as he insisted on carrying your bag to the car, and to his family's home once you arrived.

you felt it as he placed a hand on the small of your back as he introduced you to his mother, you'd known her since you lived with gina through videocalls, but had never met in person. and she already considered you part of the family.

you felt it as he hugged you once he said hi to his dad. corinna knew this would be hard for him, so she asked you to wait for him outside of the room. your heart broke as he closed the door behind him, and you wrapped him in a tight embrace as silent tears falling on his face.

he led you to his bedroom, where he let out all the feelings he'd been holding back for so long. you listened, nodded and held him as he opened up to you. once he had calmed down a bit, you heard a small knock on the door, both of you turning as corinna opened the door and walked in. she hugged her son, and with her eyes asked you to leave them alone, which you completely understood.

as you stood, mick's hold on your hand tightened for a second, you moved your head, he gave you a small smile, nodding his head once. he was thanking you. you returned both gestures before leaving them alone.

your reunion with gina was one you'd always remember. you'd be sleeping in the guest room, which was right next to hers. when you arrived, corinna told you she'd gone to buy groceries to stock up the mountain cabin where you, gina and mick would stay for a few days. once you heard she'd arrived, you hurried into her room and sat on her bed with the lights out.

she opened her door and turned on the lights, and at that moment, you yelled.

"hi, bestie!"

the scream she let out would haunt you forever.

she didn't know you were coming.

her face and mood switched from terror, to confusion, to anger, to affection all in ten seconds. she punched your arm for scaring her, but pulled you in for a hug as she told you how she'd missed you. you wished you could relive that moment forever.

thank god for cameras on cellphones.

staying with the schumachers felt... normal. they treated you as one more member of the family, you helped clean and cook when corinna let you, as the days passed your laundry got mixed with theirs, socks got lost, you borrowed both gina and mick's sweaters or hoodies.

two days before you were to leave for the cabin, gina got sick. nothing serious, just a common cold. but it wouldn't be wise for her to travel up to a snowy mountain and risk getting worse.

"maybe we can wait until you get better, the mountains and snow won't go anywhere," you offered, shrugging your shoulders. mick and gina sat in front of you, the dinner table between you as you ate. you could see gina thinking about it, considering it.

"yeah, that's a grea- ow!" she let out a yelp, looking at mick menacingly. two seconds passed before her eyes returned to you, "i mean, no, no. you guys should go on without me, i'll be fine. we'll go all together another time. don't let me stop you from having fun, right mick?" you furrowed your eyebrows. the siblings looked at each other, then at you, and they both smiled at the same time. they looked like the twins in the shining. except they pretended to be happy, it didn't work, though.

"yeah, gina's right. you came all this way to see the mountains at their prime, wouldn't want to waste that opportunity." he said, and you eyed them suspiciously.

"you're both creeping me out. i'm going to bed, see you in the morning," you grabbed your plate and glass of water, heading to the kitchen to wash them. you heard them whispering to each other as you made your way out and to your room.

weird, you thought.

you felt bad for leaving gina alone and going with mick after they had welcomed you into their home, but you had to admit you were really looking forward to spending some alone time with him, no matter the familiar funny feeling in your tummy and chest.

you decided to wait one extra day, just to see if gina miraculously got better, but it didn't happen. instead, now you only had one full day at the cabin before you had to return in time for christmas eve.

you woke up early that day, taking a quick warm shower and didn't rush as you got ready. even though you'd be spending most of the day on the car driving to the cabin, you didn't want to look like a mess, so you applied light makeup and styled your hair comfortably.

as you threw the last few things you needed in your luggage, you heard a knock on your door.

"come in," you said, and gina walked in.

"morning," she said.

"morning, why are you awake right now? it's not even five a.m. how are you feeling?" you asked, her nose was even redder than the previous day, she sounded congested.

"like shit, couldn't sleep all night."

"i'm so sorry. i can stay with you, i feel bad for leaving you like this," you said as you both sat on your bed.

"don't worry about me, i promise i'll be fine. you're going to love it up there. sometimes you can even see the northern lights," she encouraged.

"really?" you gasped. you'd never experienced it, and now hoped you could when you got to the mountains.

"yeah. was that enough to convince you?" she said, and you nodded excitedly. she laughed, hugging you. "i'm really glad you're here, (y/n). i know you and mick got close these few months, and i'm happy he sees you as his friend as well, he needs one. he needs you."

you were taken aback by her comment. you took a few seconds to reply.

"he's an amazing person, he's kind and funny and charming and..." you stopped yourself, eyes going wide for a second.

"have you got a crush on my brother?" she nudged your rib with her elbow. you huffed.

"what? no! he's just... my friend. like you said. just a friend." you said, even though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself instead of gina.

"uh-huh. right. i'm heading back to bed. have fun and take care, i just know you'll have a great time there."

she didn't give you time to respond before she left the room.

what just happened? you thought.

you placed your bag by the front door, and left for the kitchen, preparing a few sandwiches and other snacks for the road. you heard footsteps behind you, mick was carrying his suitcase and put it next to yours.

"hey, how'd you sleep?" he asked, stealing a sandwich from the pile.

"good, you? hey!" you gave him a stern look, to which he responded with a cheeky wide grin, making you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks getting warm.

"i couldn't sleep much, too busy thinking," he took another bite, looking to the floor.

"about?"

"stuff," he said, not giving you much information.

"wanna talk about it? gina said she couldn't sleep either," you offered, putting away everything you'd been using.

"nah, it's fine. just excited to go back to the cabin. i haven't been there in a few years," he explained and you nodded. "we should leave in about five minutes so you can see the sunrise," he smiled, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his arms, the long-sleeve shirt he wore tightening around his biceps. you tore your eyes away from him, focusing on what you were doing instead.

"i'm all done," you said, drying your hands on a kitchen towel.

you turned off all the lights you'd turned on, following mick to the front door. with ease, he picked up both of your bags and walked to the car as he carried them.

it seemed as though you could never get bored when you were with mick. he always surprised you with knowledge and fun facts about the most random and obscure subjects. conversation always flowed easily, and when you thought an uncomfortable silence was approaching, he always came up with some new anecdote to tell.

he was really making it impossible for that feeling in your stomach to go away, but at that moment, as you laughed and watched the sky changing colors, you wished you could stay like that forever. somehow find a way to capture the way you felt and look back whenever you were feeling sad. there wasn't anyone else you'd rather share that moment with. that thought made you smile as you watched the first rays of sun illuminating mick's face.

the morning flew by, and without notice, you'd arrived. you stared in marvel at the sight in front of you. a cabin taken out of a hallmark movie, the white snow falling, covering the ground, the treetops.

mick told you to put on your scarf and coat before going out, and you did, struggling with a ring on your finger that got caught on the yarn. mick, just like last time, grabbed your bags as you closed the car door.

"can you grab my keys? they're in my back pocket," mick turned around, your breath hitched as you realized what you what to do.

"ye-yeah," you said. your entire face felt so warm as your fingers brushed against the rough fabric of his jeans. you tried so hard to get it done quickly, but your ring got tangled with a loose thread.

"i'm so sorry, my ring got stuck," you explained, hoping he didn't think you were trying to feel him up. you pulled your finger as gently as you could, until you freed yourself.

"hey, no worries. it's okay. you know if you want to touch my butt you just have to ask,"

"mick!" you slapped his arm, clicking a button on the keyring. "it was an accident and now you're being mean. i should leave you out here to freeze."

"i was kidding! unless..." he raised an eyebrow. you groaned, pushing him with your shoulder and rushed to open the cabin. "home sweet home," mick said. he walked in and put your bags down.

"it's so beautiful," you said. mick was already kneeling in front of the fireplace to turn it on.

"yeah, it is." your eyes flew from the cozy cabin to the blonde on the floor, who was already looking and smiling at you. "okay, pick whatever room you want. we can go explore in a little bit." he said, you nodded, walking to pick up your luggage. "leave it there, i'll get it up there when i'm done here,"

"that's okay, i can take it,"

"(y/n)," he gave you a stern look.

"mick," you did the same.

"(y/n)," he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"fine."

you gave up, turning around just as you saw the winning smile on his face, a small one forming on your lips.

once you ate, showered and got changed, mick led you through the property, telling you stories of when he and gina used to chase the other. when they made snowmen with carrots for noses and sticks for arms. he spoke softly with a nostalgic look on his face as the memories ran through his mind.

you cooed at the few animals you saw, stuck your tongue out until a snowflake fell on it and you ate it, the cold making you shiver. once it started to get dark, mick noticed you getting colder by the minute, and without a second thought he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

you ate dinner on the couch, huddled close together in front of the fire. a christmas movie playing on the tv as you ate and talked.

"thank you so much for inviting me, i've been having such a good time."

"no need to thank, you're more than welcome anytime you like. i think my mom likes you more than me," he said and you giggled.

"that's not true! you two are her pride and joy, you just haven't seen the way she looks at you."

"well, if it's anything like how she looks at you, i think i've got an idea,"

"me?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"yeah, you. everytime we talk or make a videocall, she always asks about you. if you're getting enough sleep, eating well. she tells me to look after you."

"sh- she does?" your heart began speeding up. you didn't have a close relationship with your parents, and the thought that someone who wasn't related to you at all, asked and worried about you made your eyes tear up.

"all the time."

you went to bed with that thought in your head. the lights were out and so was the fireplace, for precaution. you nestled your head in the pillows, wrapping the blankets around yourself.

the next day was filled with adventure, you explored the snowy mountains, made snowballs to throw at mick, which started a war that went on for the entire day. you even went ice skating on a frozen lake. even though the thought terrified you, mick kept a tight hold of your hand and waist, reassuring you that he'd never let you fall. and if you did, he'd be there to catch you.

the warmth that spread inside you was stronger than a thousand fires combined.

a stark contrast to how you felt that night. you'd gone to bed early, as you had to wake up before dawn to get back to mick's home in time. you had started drifting to sleep when you felt cold. really, really cold. the humming sound of the heating system was replaced by silence. you shivered at the sudden chill, trying to turn it on again, but it was useless.

in your tired, sleep deprived, cold mind, your next idea was to go downstairs and see if you could turn on the fireplace, even taking your phone out to watch a video on how to do it. finding defeat again instead. you cursed silently, walking upstairs, hating that your last resource was to wake up mick.

"mick," you whispered, knuckles tapping on the wooden door. "mick!" you said a little louder this time. a few seconds later, the heavy door opened and your eyes met mick's bare chest. you shivered, you were so cold and here he was, warm enough to not need a shirt.

"(y/n)? what's wrong?" he leaned against the frame, taking in the way you hugged yourself. you, on the other hand, were struggling so bad to keep your eyes on his face, resisting the urge to let your eyes wander down.

"umm the he- the heating's not working in my room. i'm so sorry to bother you, i tried to turn on the fireplace but i don't know how and i looked it up on youtube but i-"

"hey, hey, it's okay. don't worry. you can sleep here, i'll sleep on the couch." he touched your arm, flinching as his fingers met your cold skin. "you're freezing. come inside," he opened the door even wider, and you took a few hesitant steps in.

"get in bed, the covers should be warm enough still," he instructed. "go," he grabbed your hand and led you to the bed. a shiver ran down your spine at the sudden change of your surroundings, welcoming warmth replaced the chill as he tucked you in as if you were a small child. "good?" he asked, he crouched so he could be at eye level with you.

"it's so warm... how?" you couldn't stop yourself from asking, regretting it the moment you saw him smiling wide.

"you sleep well, i'll go to the living room," he stood, turning his back, but you held his hand, stopping him.

"why don't... i-i mean... this... you can-" you stopped yourself, breathing deep as you felt that same funny feeling inside. "you can sleep here as well. i already feel bad enough for waking you up. i can't make you sleep on the couch." you sat cross-legged, still feeling his hand in yours.

"i'll be alright. don't worry,"

"mick," you said, the tone in your voice told him you weren't up for debating.

"you won't be uncomfortable?" he asked, giving in.

"with you? never." you said, watching as he made his way to the other side of the bed.

"not even when gina and i creep you out?" he called back to a few nights ago. you rolled your eyes.

"you make me question both of your sanities, but no." you heard him chuckle, "not even when you two act like the joyful version of the twins in the shining, do i feel uncomfortable around you," you finished, leaning on your side, facing him. he turned off the lamp on his bedside table, letting the darkness engulf the room.

"that's good, schatz." he said. even in the dark, with just the moon shining in through the window, his eyes still gleamed in a way that made you feel tingly on the inside.

"thanks for letting me crash here," you whispered, looking straight into his dazzling blue orbs.

"you're more than welcome in my bed every time you like," he said, making your breath hitch. you could make a snarky remark, tease him, but it didn't feel right. his voice didn't hold a sign that he was joking, and for some reason, you were glad.

"good night, mick." you whispered, nuzzling your head against the pillow that still held his warmth and scent.

"good night, angel." he murmured, you fell asleep with a small smile on your face.

you were hot. too hot. literally.

you opened your eyes, it took your brain a few seconds to remember where you were. where you were. you tried to move, feeling something heavy on your stomach. your hands met soft skin, not yours. your eyes drifted down. there was an arm around you, that pulled your body against another.

oh, my god. you thought. you tried your best to not wake him up as you moved. but you froze when mick started moving, pulling you even closer to his chest, nuzzling his face in your neck. the funny feeling in your stomach was back, it felt like fluttering inside you.

he hummed, you felt his lips pressing against your skin for a second, before his breathing became calmer, even. at that moment, you didn't know if the heat you felt in your face was because of the blankets, or the boy behind you.

you didn't know how much time passed when you opened your eyes again. you felt mick's protective arm around you, and smiled this time when you noticed. you didn't want to move, didn't want to tear yourself away from his embrace. you wanted to stay like that forever.

why?

waking up was... awkward. you both ignored the fact that you'd been cuddling as if your lives depended on it and just moved on with your day. you had showered the night before to save time in the morning. you thanked whatever being was up there because you'd already woken up late, that would take even more time from your day, and you wanted to be back in time for christmas eve dinner.

you were turning off and unplugging the remaining electronics when you heard mick from the living room.

"we're snowed in." he said loud enough for you to hear him.

"what?" you asked, rushing to him.

"yeah, it looks like it didn't stop snowing all night, there's like 2 meters of snow, i can't drive like this." he explained as you both looked through the window. you turned your head, leaning back when your face almost clashed into his.

"well shit..." you said.

"i'll call mom, better let her know we're okay and staying here." you nodded, sitting down on the couch with your legs up, watching the snow falling.

a few minutes later, mick came back with his phone in his hand.

"mom wants to talk to you," he handed you the slim phone. he lifted your legs as he sat close to you, letting them fall on his lap.

"hello?" you said as mick's hand went to your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles.

"(y/n)! i'm so sorry you won't make it back on time, we were all really looking forward to tonight." corinna said.

"i know, so was i! but it's better we wait it out, hopefully it gets better by tomorrow." you responded, smiling at mick.

"i'm sure it will, sweetheart. you two take care of each other, don't leave the house for any reason."

"of course, don't worry corinna. we'll be fine,"

"i'll leave you now. call if you have any news, or something happens."

"okay," you said.

"can you pass the phone to mick, sweetheart?"

"sure, we'll talk soon. bye."

"bye, honey. love you, take care."

you handed the phone back, your brain didn't process what she said until you heard mick talking with her. his hold of your thigh never went away.

he only gave short replies to whatever corinna said, but his eyes never left your face. and neither did you.

he hung up, throwing the phone to one side.

"so... what do we do now?" you asked, resting your head on your fist, your elbow on the windowsill.

"well it looks like we'll be spending christmas here so, why don't we get started with the food?" he said, you nodded.

"what are you thinking?" you wiggled a little, trying to get your legs off from mick's lap, but he tightened the hold on your thigh, you gave up and left them there.

"i think we've got enough for lasagna, or we could make pizza."

"do we have all the ingredients?" you mentally checked everything you'd packed.

"i'm not sure, i think so."

"we should probably check," you said. mick threw his head back, closing his eyes.

"don't wanna get up," he mumbled.

"i'll go," you chirped, but his hands on your legs stopped you.

"stay, just a little while. whatever's there can wait." he said, opening one eye to look at you, you shook your head.

"just five minutes. come here," you didn't know what came over you, feeling too confident as you scooted to one side, inviting mick to lay next to you.

just like when you woke up, his arm was wrapped securely around you. you felt his breath on your neck, feeling your eyelids getting heavier as the seconds passed.

when you opened your eyes, you were alone. your eyes scanned the room, what you could see of the kitchen, and mick was nowhere to be found. you got up, calling his name as you wandered around the cabin. your heart sped up as you opened each door, hoping to find him, only to feel your heart breaking a little more when you were met with nothing but emptiness.

you pressed your back against the wall, sliding down, pulling your knees to your chest. the minutes seemed to last hours as you sat in that position.

what if something had happened? what if mick left you there on your own? had you done something wrong? what if-

the sound of something falling pulled you from your anxious thoughts. you rushed down the stairs, watching as mick, covered in snow, was stacking up some wood logs next to the fireplace.

"mick!" you called, breathless. he barely had time to stand up to his full height, turning to you as you ran to him. you jumped, wrapping your arms and legs around him, pulling him so impossibly close, not caring about the snow that was now melting against your clothes.

"what's wrong, angel? what happened?" he asked, his hold on you almost as tight and desperate as yours. you hid your face in his neck, unable to hold back the tears in your eyes.

"i tho- i thought you'd... left me. here." you managed to say. feeling his arms wrapping around you comfortingly.

"oh, schatz. i'm so sorry. i'd never leave you alone. i just had to get some more wood. you were asleep and i didn't want to wake you. i'm sorry, love." he whispered, playing with your hair. he walked, with you still in his arms. he sat on the couch, didn't ask you to move, just sat and whispered in your ear how sorry he was, reminded you how special you were to him. how his family would kill him if anything happened to you.

in all honesty, you didn't know why it affected you so much. you just sat on his lap as he spoke softly, held him close to you, afraid that he'd go away. his words helped you calm down, he promised to never do that again, but he needed to go change out of his wet clothes. you let him go, he kissed your forehead.

"if i didn't know you any better i'd think you have a crush on me. i'll be right back." he said, disappearing once he reached the top floor.

you sat stunned at his words, and you thought back to that moment with gina just before you left.

"have you got a crush on my brother?"

did you?

no, you didn't. he was just your friend. a close friend. possibly a best friend. what you felt wasn't a crush.

you did not have a crush on your best friend's brother.

you did not have a crush on your possibly best friend.

did you?

oh. you did.

well, fuck.

you felt the air leaving your lungs, the room started to shrink.

you couldn't risk it. his presence in your life, even if he was just a best friend, or just your best friend's brother... was better than not having him at all.

you felt numb the rest of the day. mick always stayed close to you, he felt so bad for not thinking how you'd feel, waking up all alone in an unknown place. he tried to talk to you, but you just weren't there. you weren't crying anymore, which was good. but you weren't smiling and joking around, either, which wasn't good.

as the clock neared midnight, you sat in front of the fireplace watching a cheesy christmas romance movie. your knees were pulled to your chest, fuzzy socks adorning your feet. your heart ached as the people on screen finally confessed their love for each other. you teared your eyes away from the screen when they started kissing, the credits rolling. mick turned off the tv, turning towards you.

"it's almost midnight," he said. you hummed, nodding. playing with your fuzzy socks. you saw as mick's hand grabbed yours, you slowly moved your eyes to his, looking away after barely half a second. "(y/n)... i- i've been wanting to tell you something. for a while now. i think i-"

"i love you," you interrupted. your heart stopped.

"you... what?" he said, and you cringed internally. gathering as much air as you could, your gaze met his heaven eyes.

"i- i mean that... you- you're one of the closest people in my life. and i realized i don't say it too often. so, i love you. like a best friend." you didn't care if you weren't making any sense, you just had to find a way to save yourself from further heartbreak and embarrassment.

"oh. right. yeah i... yeah, me too." he nodded once, then moved his eyes to the clock on the wall. "i should probably go to sleep now. you know, in case we... have to drive down tomorrow."

"okay."

"goodnight," he said, getting up from the couch.

"night," you murmured, letting your head fall back once he was out of sight.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

you paced your room back and forth, already wearing pjs, ready for bed. a mental war happening in your head. no. you had to tell him.

your eyebrows furrowed in determination, your fingers grabbed the doorknob, opening the door.

your breath hitched, you stopped dead in your tracks. your eyes met blue wide ones.

"i-"

"wh-"

you both started at the same time, stopping when you heard the other speaking. you remained silent for a few seconds, just looking at each other. you noticed his hair was messy, as if he'd been running his fingers through the strands. your eyes went back to his crystal clear ones, dark circles underneath. the funny feeling, the fluttering, you realized in that moment, were butterflies flying, hoping to be freed. mick opened his mouth to speak, your gaze fell to his pink lips.

one second you were staring at them, the next, you pressed them against your own. desperately, needing to feel his touch. his mouth moved against yours, a soft whimper leaving your throat when one of his hands grabbed your face whilst the other snaked around your back to pull your body flush against his.

you kissed like your lives depended on it. as if, instead of losing air from your lungs, every time you touched, they filled again. you poured all the frustration, pining, hidden feelings, and desires into the kiss. hoping he'd understand how you were feeling without having to mutter a single word.

he'd been wanting you for so long. since that first night on the rooftop. even more, when you started working together and he had to admire you from afar. much more, when he realized how much you loved his family.

his hands traveled down your sides, hoisting you until you wrapped your legs around him, feeling the wall behind you. you were the first one to break the kiss, breathless, leaning your head on the wall. your lips felt tingly, you bit your bottom lip as you watched mick's eyes scanning your face. you were so close, foreheads almost touching as your heavy breaths mixed together.

your hands grabbed his face, feeling him leaning into your touch, making your heart and stomach clench.

"i don't think i can... i..." you started, pausing in between your thoughts. he kissed you again, and it helped you refocus your head, "i don't want you like a best friend." you muttered against his lips.

"good. neither do i." you smiled, the tension leaving your shoulders as you connected your lips again.

"your hand is so small," mick said, hours later. the sun was making its way up through the clouds.

"not my fault you're a giant," you said, kissing his cheek.

your palms were pressed together, his fingers playing with your stretched ones. until he slipped his between the free space between your own, curling them, fingertips brushing against the back of your hand. you did the same, loving the way they seemed to fit in like puzzle pieces.

your head was leaning on his shoulder as your hands never broke contact. you relished in the way you laid next to him. after hours making love with him, after declarations of love and devotion and promises of forever.

you wanted to stay there, like that, forever.

you wanted to make yourselves small enough, so you'd fit inside a snow globe. one that you could take care of with all of your love. you wanted to live in that moment, when you finally accepted you'd fallen in love with your best friend's brother.

the drive home was different, your fingers were laced together with his, resting on the console between you. occasionally, either you or mick would lift your hands up to your lips and kiss the other's knuckles. it felt... normal. so normal to mark him as yours, to mark you as his, so normal that you didn't even notice you were still holding hands once gina greeted you when you finally arrived home.

you noticed her eyes on your joined hands, didn't care if she looked, or asked. all you cared about was mick, and judging by the way he was tightening his grip around you, he only needed you by his side.

"finally," gina said, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. you hugged her with your free arm, not letting go of mick. "do you know how tired i was of pretending to be sick so you'd finally leave?" she said as she hugged her brother.

"you weren't sick?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"no. i planned it with mick so you could be alone for once."

"so the joyful twins from the shining?"

"i slipped up, i still have the bruise on my leg from when you kicked me, you jerk." she poked her brother. who only laughed, letting go of your hand to place an arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his chest,

"sorry. it worked, though." he said as he kissed your head.

"what worked?" corinna asked, walking up to you.

"you have a new daughter," gina said. corinna looked at you two, the way you were holding each other, a twinkle in your eyes, and she couldn't help but tear up.

"you two look so lovely together," she smiled, wiping the tears away. you pushed mick towards his mother, he hugged her as she let the tears fall. they stayed like that for a few moments before they pulled away, she stretched her hand and you took it, hugging her as well. "i knew there was something between you two. i couldn't have asked for a better girl for my kids. you don't know how much i appreciate and how thankful i am for everything you've done for mick and gina. you are what our family's been missing."

"thank you for- for giving me a family. a place where i feel like i belong. there really is no other place i'd rather be than right here with you. all of you," you emphasized the word all, in hopes that they'd understand what you meant. they did. you saw it in the way their chests heaved with pride and smiles somehow got bigger.

a few days later, you were still with the schumachers, now celebrating the new year.

"we'll have to settle for some ground rules," gina said later that night. it was just you and mick on a couch, with gina in front of you on another.

"for what?" mick asked, kissing your shoulder. you snuggled deeper into his chest.

"that," she pointed at you, you rolled your eyes as mick laughed. "as much as i like you two together, you're still my brother and she's still my best friend, i don't want to see you two like that all the time."

"then close your eyes," you teased. she poked her tongue out.

"funny. i'm serious."

"nice to meet you, serious. i'm mick." he said, and gina groaned as you laughed.

"you know what? i'm leaving." she got up and slapped you both on her way to her room.

"i thought you were serious, wait, come back!" you called out for her, in reply you only heard her door slamming.

"god, she's gonna hate us," mick said.

"it's her fault for setting us up," you kissed his lips.

"mick!" you heard gina.

"yeah?" he called.

"there was a package delivered for you earlier!"

"where is it?!"

"i don't know!"

"okay!"

"what?!"

"okay!"

"okay!"

"are you two done?" you asked, they yelled at each other from opposite ends of the house.

"yep. hold on." he got up and started looking for whatever he'd ordered. "ah, here it is." he said as he grabbed a small box.

"what's that?" you asked, mick plopped down on the couch again.

"it's for you." he said and you sat up, excited. "i realized, i never gave you a christmas present, so this is for you," he handed you the small box and you began opening it.

two chains. one with your initials on it. one with his.

"actually, they're for us," he said, taking the necklace with his initials, and he turned it, the date of that christmas engraved on it. "this one's for you," he handed it to you, then grabbed the other one. "this one's mine."

he helped you put yours on and then you helped him. grabbing the small charm with your initials between your fingers.

"i love it, this way everyone will know you're mine," you kissed him.

"as long as you're all mine," he said, and you nodded.

"yours," you whispered against his lips.

"mine," he reassured you.

"mine," you repeated.

"all yours," he kissed you, finally.

you let him place your back against the sofa as he climbed on top of you, his lips hovering over yours. begging to be kissed. you answered their prayer, wrapping your arms around his neck, his necklace colliding with yours.

"i think- falling for my best friend's brother might have been the best decision of my life."

"i couldn't agree more, schatz."

[kitcat992]

│Identity Saga │Narrative Discourse (The Steps to "Son")

Identity Saga

It doesn't matter how much time dwindles on since writing the first installment of the Identity Saga; some days, it feels no different than if it were last week. And completing Tony's journey of self-growth — allowing himself to open up and bring Peter into his life as 'more than a mentee' — was absolutely one of my favorite things about writing Identity Theft.

I remember starting this story the night I saw Infinity War; I fell head over heels for what little interaction we saw between Tony and Peter in that movie, combined with Spider-Man: Homecoming. And like most things I latched onto those seeds and breadcrumbs and went wild with it. I wanted to see create the journey that got Tony to being a "dad figure" and decide if I was going to do it, I'd be going all in. It was the slowest of burns I've ever written, but the most satisfying, all at the same time.

Through-out Identity Theft, we watched Tony and Peter evolve after a 6ish month gap from Homecoming to narrative present. From "mentee" to "like a son", it was a huge pleasure (and one of my biggest accomplishments, at the time) to take Tony through that journey. Following each event of the story, we got to see himself allow the destruction of the barricades that kept him from bringing someone close into his life. And most importantly, begin to see himself as a pseudo father-figure — especially after the hangups he's had in his own life.

As Identity Crisis comes to a conclusion — with the second installment following Peter's journey from "mentor" to "like a dad" — I think it's important to revisit the narrative discourse of Tony's character growth through this saga. Providing relationships that felt "earned" through organic growth and pacing was my goal with this series, and even with the word count far exceeding what I ever anticipated (along with a time-frame that I never expected in completing the saga) I'm very proud to have gotten these characters where they are in the narrative.

Tony deserved this in the MCU. In my little sandbox of stories, he got it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 1: Prologue

Tony scoffed, mildly amused. “Jesus kid, that’s the best question you can come up with? That part was borderline child's play.”

“Yeah, well, no, it’s just —” Peter stumbled over his words, scooting his stool closer to where Tony sat. And then closer after that. “Facial recognition typically uses bio metrics for its body measurements and calculations, to—to you know, refer to metrics related to human characteristics, but its used in access control, never memory stored control. And I can’t imagine a simple storage unit could hold all this information and relay it back to the recognition program in time to provide results, so…how'd you do it?"

Tony hummed, giving a short and sharp nod. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was that Parker could talk his head off when it came to science. And while he had days where he doubted supplying the kid with so much technology to support his vigilante heroism — six months ago, for example, when the Ferry Incident was still fresh in his mind — it was moments like this that renewed his confidence in the young lad.

He wouldn't admit it aloud, but it made him proud.

Or some mutated form of the emotion he hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 6: Breakfast at Tony’s

“My intent was never malicious with Peter." Tony sighed, rubbing harshly at the nape of his neck. "He’s just a boy trying to keep his family and friends safe and honestly, can you be angry with that? None of you can look me in the eye and say you wouldn’t want the same thing." Tony noticeably turned to Clint. "Hell, Barton, your entire family is a secret from the world.”

Clint shrugged, not making an attempt to dispute the fact.

Tony continued on, “I respected his request and followed through with it. So if you have anyone to be mad at, it’s me — but it’d be pretty damn stupid to stay mad over something like this. We have bigger fish to fry.”

Rhodey looked between him and Peter, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

“You trust him then?” he asked.

It was easy for Rhodey to tell when Tony was bullshitting. They had been friends for a long time, way before Iron Man, long before Afghanistan — there was a foundation between them that couldn’t be rattled. His entire life changed along with Tony’s, somehow joining him in the crazy ride of War Machine, the brief blip of Iron Patriot, and ultimately landing with the Avengers.

So when Tony nodded, he wholeheartedly believed him.

“I do,” Tony said, flapping a hand in Peter's general vicinity. “He’s good. He’s better than good, he’s great.”

Nobody missed how Peter looked up at hearing those words, his eyes sparkling with a sense of pride that made him grin ear-to-ear. For a moment, Tony looked nowhere else but at that. A shadow of a grin washed across his own face, something that not one person in the room didn’t notice.

The exchange was brief, but unique, giving Tony a different light to him; a humility that bounced off him no different than the skylights from above.

Steve noted that.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 7: New Kid on the Block

Tony pounded on the kid's back as he coughed dirty river water onto the ground with each action, his inhales wet and rickety.

“Breathe, kid, breathe…” he calmly instructed him, obviously not wavered by the thumbs up that Peter insisted on giving, not until his coughs dissipate and his breaths were less shaky.

Peter took a deep inhale, this time clean and dry. He watched in front of him as Sam contained the much smaller rock creature — and he laughed.

“Holy crap, he’s so small now! That’s just…” Peter grinned ear-to-ear. “That was so awesome! Way more awesome than the Android, which is still so awesome. Holy crap, that was —”

Peter stopped mid-sentence as Tony removed his Iron Man mask, exposing much less happy features than what he was experiencing.

Oh crap. He was in trouble — he had to be in trouble - he must have screwed up and now they were angry with him, again — angry again. Heart plummeting to the sopping wet soles of his feet, Peter gulped hard enough to shake his throat.

“Mr. Stark, I —”

His apology was cut short when Tony laid a hand on his shoulder, sighing with relief.

“You did good, kid,” he said. “You scared the devil out of me, but you did real good.”

Peter grinned, possibly wider than before. Mr. Stark wasn’t angry — no, he seemed almost…proud. And though it wasn’t much, barely a twitch of his lips, he could tell Tony was also smiling.

He did good.

Peter nodded in thanks, wiping away the dirty water from his mouth. He did good.

Those few words were the best he had heard in a long time, feeling a sense of pride in himself that he hadn’t felt in months. Suddenly, all the overlapping failures washed away — the Daily Bugle's headlines didn't mean squat to him. Not with the approval he'd just received.

Tony must have noticed his happiness, because he went from having his hand on him to wrapping his entire arm around his shoulder with a tight squeeze.

Peter relished in it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 8: Afterparty

It wasn’t too long into their trip to Queens though that Peter fell quiet, and Tony briefly considered turning on music to fill the silence. Sparing a glance to the passenger’s seat where Peter sat, he ultimately decided against it.

“Damn, kid,” Tony muttered. “Talked yourself right to sleep.”

While he would have liked to believe as much, Tony knew better than that. He could see the day was wearing thin on Peter by the time the sun had set, the bags under his eyes growing darker with each hour. He had to wonder if the kid had even slept last night.

Still, he kept up the facade well, eagerly talking to everyone like the energizer bunny he was.

That was the thing with Peter — always moving, always bouncing and jittery.

Tony could only imagine how much adrenaline had pumped through the kid’s veins, between last nights adventure and then his geeky-self getting overwhelmed hanging out with the team. It had to be enough energy to fuel a third world country, and the crash was probably just as bad.

He looked back to the road, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He wasn’t sure how or when he got into this situation, but deep down inside, he knew it didn’t bother him. The fact it didn’t bother him probably bothered him, but he’d deal with that another time.

The kid did good today. He did better than good, he did great — fantastic, amazing even. This little amazing Spider-Man saving the day like a pro. It was like a sense of pride that bubbled within him, happy to see the kid excel, take the reins at the crazy job he was thrown into.

Tony knew Peter had it within him. To be the hero, to be better than he was. He just needed the guidance.

It was something Howard Stark failed at.

His father gave him all the money in the world, but he never gave the guidance Tony needed. It took Afghanistan for him to realize he needed to be his own light in the darkness. It took more than that to realize he had to do better for the world — the Battle of New York, Ultron. The Accords, and the dismantling that followed.

Looking over at Peter again, Tony softened. He didn’t know what it was about the teenager that drew him in like a magnet. All he needed was an extra hand in Berlin, something to convince Rogers that he was off his rocker and needed to come to his senses. They should have parted ways after that, there was no reason for him to become so connected. And yet half his year was spent focused on the Spider-kid —

No.

Peter.

He was focused on Peter.

It was almost as if they were one in the same. Two damaged souls just trying to make the world a better place, so their pain wouldn’t be experienced by anyone else.

Tony knew he shouldn’t be getting so close. People close to him got hurt — he hurt those close to him. It was instinct by this point; the toxic, inevitable nature within him that he couldn’t shake. And now Peter was close — he was close to the team, his life, his world —

It was asking for trouble.

Somehow, along the journey he had taken as Iron Man, this fifteen-year-old kid looked up to him. He was a role model now — what the hell was he supposed to do with that? There wasn’t anything good about him to look up to. If anything, he was the example of what not to do.

'Don't do anything I would do. And don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

Yeah, that summed him up pretty damn well.

Tony looked up in the rearview mirror, the headlights from behind them highlighting the browns in his eyes. It was strange — an odd feeling, knowing Peter admired him. It kind of made him sick to his stomach, and not just because of the sappiness behind it all.

This was dangerous territory. Guiding a kid, mentoring a kid. This wasn't what he set out to do.

Being Iron Man, flying in the skies, saving the world — that seemed like a piece of cake compared to this. There wasn’t a playbook on how to mentor a teenager — scratch that, a teenage superhero.

The most he could do was try.

It would mean headaches — all kinds of headaches, frustration, stress — Tony knew exactly what kind of trouble this was asking for. But he owed it to the kid to at least try.

He owed it to himself.

“Is it worth it, Tony?” Steve had asked him. “Is he worth it?”

The procession of streetlights and passing cars illuminated the interior of the car, shinning inside just long enough for Tony to catch the sight of Peter curled up in the leather passenger seat. His head was lolled to the side, his arms clutching the bag that contained his spider-suit. His mouth was slightly ajar, and light snores slipped out with each breath he took.

Yeah, Tony decided. He’s worth it.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 10: And Washed the Spider Out

Somehow, and for some reason, Tony's eyes locked onto the scattered papers on his desk.

The MIT brochures stared back at him.

Mocking him.

“I just…I don’t know, Mr. Stark.” Peter hesitantly set the brochures on the work table, stepping back with caution. “I can’t leave New York. What about Spider-Man, protecting the little guy? I can’t do that from MIT. And—and I can’t —”

“You can’t what?” Tony snapped in a way that was purely controlled, a vibration of intimidation that shook Peter’s core. If looks could kill, he'd surely be six feet under from the piercing glare the billionaire gave him.

Peter bowed his head, his eyes locked on his dirty sneakers.

“I can’t leave Aunt May.” His words were quiet, his hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “She needs me, Mr. Stark. I can’t just leave her...not yet.”

Tony squeezed the screwdriver in his hand so tightly that the metal tip broke through skin, a stream of blood trickling out.

It didn't hurt enough. It ached, throbbed, and stung, but it didn't hurt enough to distract him from the sickening pain in his heart.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

“Goddamnit!”

It took one sweep of his arm to knock over everything on the table. Papers, tools, and random mechanical parts fell to the ground with a clatter and bang. It wasn’t long after that he decided, screw it, the entire table can join them. And then once he knocked the table to the ground, Tony kicked the chair over as well. He kicked it — kicked, kicked and kicked it, slamming it against the wall with the force of his anger. 

“Damn it!” he kicked repeatedly, angrily. “Damn it, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

He screamed because he needed to, his voice harsh and jarring, because he had to, because this isn't happening, this isn't real, this can't be real.

But it was. Tony had no ability to change it, no amount of money to fix it, no control over any of it. He croaked as his knees buckled under his weight, pathetically sinking down onto the stool with a deafening headache starting to drown out the scratchy pain in his throat.

And he let himself be.

It was like a tidal wave, the grief. Washing over him instantaneously.

He heard the whoosh of the sliding doors but never the alert from his AI. Because he shut it off, of course. Though he wouldn’t have needed the warning to begin with.

Tony knew exactly who it was.

“You’ve gone too far with your override privileges, Pep.”

His voice was so ragged he didn't even recognize it, wet with tears and clouded with pain. It didn't sound like him at all.

“Tony...” Her voice was steadier than he expected it to be. 

He was reluctant to let her near him. To let her feel the anger and shame radiating off him, to see him in such a weak, pathetic state. Yet he never made a move to otherwise stop her.

She knew it all, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“He was just a kid." Tony shut his eyes and held them tight. “I’m the adult. I was supposed to protect him. He was just a kid.”

Hunched over on the stool, Tony never moved. Pepper approached him and without any hesitation, without any shame, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head close to her, letting him rest in the tuck of her stomach where she stood.

“It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper ran her hand through his hair. “It’s okay…”

It hit him with capsizing quickness. Tony felt himself pulled forward, as if the weight in his chest was enough to define gravity. The sobs wretched through him and he wailed, like a dying animal, crying in agony.

They came one after another, harsh and loud, until he couldn't breathe, until he was gasping from the exertion of dissolving into his emotions. Her shirt became soaked with his tears, but neither cared. She held him closer as his cries howled in the room.

“It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper’s own voice cracked. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

There was no physical mark, no external catalyst for his distress — he made it out okay. He wasn’t swallowed up by the burning flames, eating away at his flesh and muscles and stripping him of the life he knew. He was okay.

But he was still burning, gasping with panic at flames that didn't exist.

Throat aching, his sobs died to thin, whistling intakes of air, choking on his own tears when they hiccupped in his throat.

“I can’t fix this. I can’t fix this,” Tony gasped, over and over. “I can’t fix this, Pep. I can’t bring him back.”

Pepper held him tighter, her own tears salty on her lips.

“I failed him." He choked on another sob, pulling tight at his chest. "I — I failed him.”

Pepper didn't respond.

Tony didn't need her to.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 11: Avengers Disassembled

“We lost him too, you know," Steve's voice was almost too quiet to hear.

Tony wished it had been.

“You lost him?” Tony scoffed, the sound piercingly angry. He slammed his mug down on the table, uncaring as the contents split everywhere. "I'm sorry, exactly how long did you know him?"

Steve met his angry eyes with soft ones, stripping him of every decade he slept frozen in ice.

“You’re right,” he nodded, struggling to find the right words to say — it showed in the bob of his throat, highlighting the shadow that covered his jaw. “It's not that I don't wish I had known him sooner. Or longer. Because I do, we all do. Peter was a good kid." Steve frowned, the downward tug of his lips creating lines on his face Tony hadn't seen before. "It's just...he obviously meant a lot to you, Tony. I don’t think I’ve ever…”

There was a pause.

Steve looked down to the coffee cup on the table, watching as the mess began to leak driblets onto the ground. One drop at a time, creating a small puddle on the marble floor. A mess that somebody, at some point, would need to clean up.

“You called him your kid.” Steve forced his eyes away from the dripping coffee, back to where Tony sat. His head tilted to the side, just narrowly. “Last week…out on the island…you called him your kid.”

The coffee kept dripping.

Tony barely craned his head around to look at Steve — close enough now that if he wanted to take a seat next to him on the couch, he could. If Tony hadn't been so confused, he would've made a run for the other sofa. Or jump straight down the stairs, need be. Whatever it meant to get Steve away from him.

Curiosity always did win when it came to Stark's. And Steve's out-of-the-blue comment was just enough to grab his attention.

"Your point?" Tony made a face that was caught between insulted and perplexed, and something else he was too tired to figure out.

Steve found himself leaning against the armrest of the sofa, slowly, enough that the movement didn't jostle the man sitting there.

“Tony…” Steve started to say. “Was he actually your son —?”

“No!” Tony's eyes were wide enough to fall onto the floor. Jesus, if that didn't get him to sober up quickly. "Christ, no, I didn't have — no!"

He definitely needed to go heavier on the whiskey. Tony brought a hand to his forehead, not realizing it was wet with coffee until it smeared against his temple. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his hand roughly against his jeans before returning to a halfhearted temple massage.

This was exactly the shit he'd been worried about with Parker. Rumors, speculation, tabloid garbage nonsense that would spread like wildfire — this was part of why he wanted to keep Peter secret from the team.

A scoff shook his back. So much for that.

Despite Tony's outburst, Steve still seemed wary. His head tilted further to the side, his confusion deepening. All the more visible underneath the lack of sleep that coated his features.

It was a tired Captain America that Tony took pity on. His confusion was no different than Bambi on a dewy morning, lost and looking for answers. Glancing over at Steve — really looking at him — and Tony didn't understand how even the blues of his eyes had deepened with that confusion. It was almost enough to make him scoff again — because of course Rogers could pull off the Bambi eyes when he wanted to.

Screw it. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter what the team knew and what they didn't know.

It wasn't like Peter was around to worry about anymore.

"He wasn't...he wasn't my kid, no," Tony let out that scoff after all. "He’s been — he was— hanging around here. A lot. More often than I probably should have let him.”

Tony adjusted himself on the sofa, attempting to straighten his back in a way that would evoke poise they both knew he didn’t have right now. The sip of coffee he took only further deteriorated that attempt. The hand holding his mug began to tremble with the liquid he hadn't consumed in ages.

“What can I say, he was needy and I needed..." Tony didn't realize his foot was tapping against the floor until the sound started to aggravate him. "It doesn't matter what I needed."

Identity Theft│ Chapter 12: The Doctor Is In

“You came here to tell us Peter is still alive." Wanda looked up at Strange, the expression that fell on her face tighter than the words that thickened her accent. "You want us to find him.”

It wasn't a question. Rather, an acknowledgment of his task.

Stephen simply nodded. “I have been warned, by the Vishanti, that the death of your ward —”

“He wasn’t my ward,” Tony snapped.

Stephen noticeably rolled his eyes. “Whatever relationship exists here — it’s the catalyst. If not taken care of, it will start a chain of events beyond our control of stopping. Beyond even my control of stopping.”

“What chain of events?” Tony asked, hard-pressed, the liquor that left his system no longer at play for his anger. “What’s so awful from one kid kicking the bucket?”

Stephen didn't answer right away. The silence that followed seemed to be the longest yet, with a faint line deepening across his forehead.

Finally, “I have not been granted that knowledge.”

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps the day’s events finally took a toll on him. Maybe, even, he couldn't handle his whisky as well as he could in the past. But for a moment, Tony stared ahead blankly, unable to think of a proper response. His mind went empty, his brain going blank. He blinked, once and then twice, before wearily shaking his head.

“Alright, I’ve entertained this long enough.” Tony turned around, shooing him away with his arm. “Grab your rabbit and leave through your top hat, or whatever pyrotechnic light show you have in your back pocket. I’m not sending anyone to walk you out, so you’re on your own —”

“Your kid is still alive!” Stephen argued, stepping forward — his feet hit the floor as loud as his voice broke through his throat.

Tony spun fast on his heels, the rage in his eyes blazing hot. “I watched him die.”

Stephen shook his head. “You watched a building explode.”

Tony pointed an accusing finger his way. “That he was in.”

Stephen slammed an open palm into his chest.

And the world stopped.

Tony felt it before he saw it. A sudden displacement from his body, as if his mind had become its own entity; disconnecting from everything that held him grounded in the real world.

Stephen used one hand to grab the wrist of the finger that pointed at him, yanking him forward in one harsh tug. With one fluid motion, he slammed his open palm into Tony's chest. The strike was so hard it knocked him off balance.

Or at least, it would have. It should have.

Tony was witnessing real time in milliseconds, possibly even slower. Fractions of milliseconds. Fractions of fractions of milliseconds. He stared at his own body — his own body, caught in slow motion, stumbling backward.

Stephen's hand was still on him, covering his t-shirt, the balls of his heels barely having barely lifted off the ground.

With shaking panic, Tony realized that he wasn’t in his body anymore.

He stared at his hands with disbelief. The rough, callous fingers were so faint, so tangible that he could see the floor below him, as if his skin were made of sheer glass. His physical body continued to fall backward, centimeter by centimeter, destined to hit the floor. The surrounding world around him moved like molasses; all as he floated away, a translucent form with no control.

And then, he was sent soaring.

Tony could feel the air knocked from his lungs at the forced momentum, losing all connection with the world that once was. He could feel the wind fly through his hair, hitting his skin, his stomach rolling with waves of nausea as he flew faster than Iron Man could ever dream of going.

It was a blur and spectrum of colors. A roller coaster caught within a kaleidoscope. Tony was vaguely aware that he was shouting, possibly even screaming — hysterically screaming. But he couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on.

He couldn’t connect with what was around him.

And then he stopped. Face to face with dazed, glassy, brown eyes.

Young eyes.

Panicked eyes.

Peter’s eyes.

Tony could hear the kid's breathing — each inhale raspy, forced. For one split of a second, he heard a heartbeat.

Alive.

Living. 

One blink, and everything was gone.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 12: The Doctor Is In

Tony took a deep breath, this time through his mouth, and tried to hone in his mind. He even closed his eyes the second time around. The crickets chirped, and his own breath echoed in his ears, all the while he faintly heard Strange whisper under his breath.

“Clear your mind…”

Tony was never good at meditation. If he had an idea for an invention, he could focus on it for months. If given an object to fix, he’d do his damnedest to repair it. But mediation meant silence, and silence usually followed uncomfortable thoughts.

Howard, his mom. Afghanistan, Obadiah, Vanko, Hammer, Killian…

He shook his head, fighting to steer his mind in the right direction. These people brought his demons to life; they weren’t what — and who — he needed to be focused on. They were people that made his life hell. People who were out to get him.

Loki, Barnes, Ultron —

‘Come on, treat this like a problem.' Tony growled, the sound muted in his chest. 'You can fix this. You can fix yourself.’

It was a joke to even trick himself into that. He knew he could never fix himself. But he was lucky enough to have people around him to get him through the day. Pepper, Rhodey — hell, though he hated to admit it, he had the entire team of Avengers watching his back. He may be a hot piping mess, but he’d never have to be one alone.

And Peter. The kid was glued to his side whether he wanted him to be or not. Peter never saw the bad in him. Even with his entire history laid out in newspapers, recorded in videos, spread across the tabloids — Peter shrugged it off as though it didn’t bother him.

The kid had so much life in him. Even on his worst days, the kid smiled with more love than Tony could ever give back. For the longest time he believed he was mentoring the kid to be like him — but he soon realized that having Peter in his life was making him the better man, not the other way around. He made every beat of his heart worth it.

Peter made him want to be a better person. To not let his baggage and trauma control his life. To spend the evening in bed with Pepper rather than in his workshop — because life was short and he didn’t know how long he had with her. To make more time with Rhodey, because they had been friends for decades and the man deserved better than what company he had been providing.

To forgive Steve, because mistakes shouldn’t always define the man.

“When you can do the things I can…but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

For a moment, Tony stopped breathing. He didn’t realize it, but the air halted in his chest, stagnant with the thoughts that passed by in his mind. His forehead creased as he focused so intently, and so deeply, on the memories that made his arms quiver and his eyes twitch.

But he could see it — he could see a young Peter; sitting on his bed in his Queens apartment, the kid all but starstruck at the concept of talking with Tony Stark. He could see him ripping off his Spider-Man mask, giddy and excited at his first team-up with Iron Man. And for one short moment, he could feel him, his own arm wrapped around the lanky but built teenager as they walked away from the island together.

For a moment, he felt at peace.

Stephen was the one to come out of his trance with a gasp, a thud on the ground that startled Tony back to the present. From the way his clothes shook, Tony could only assume something magical had happened.

And he missed it.

Well, damn.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 15: Parker Luck

Something inside Steve finally broke. When Tony briskly walked past him, attempting to reach the rest of the team, he grabbed onto his bicep tightly. Stalling him from moving any further.

“You good?” Steve asked, his voice almost too low to hear.

Tony looked over at him, stone-cold sober with exhaustion that sank deep in his bones.

“I will be once we get this over with,” he answered.

Steve didn’t let go of his grip. “You know we have your back on this, Tony. Right?”

Tony shook him off, roughly at that, with his brows furrowed tight.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve had a million different thoughts raging in his head — things he wanted to say yesterday, the day before that, and the day before it all. It burned a hole deep inside of him, screaming to get out.

They didn’t have time for it, though. The others stood across the room waiting for them both; waiting to leave any second now. With resignation, Steve settled on the most straightforward answer he could muster up.

“It means we’re going to find him.” Steve tilted his chin low, his eyes locking onto Tony’s. “And we’re all going to come back, together.”

What he didn't say out loud was heard, loud and clear in the emphasis of his words. There wouldn't be sacrifices made. This wasn't New York — they weren't doing that again.

Tony paused, his tongue running across his teeth before he popped his lips together, turning to face Steve head-on with a strong fury emitting from the pores of his skin.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Rogers," he started, each word heavier than the last. "Whatever we’re about to walk into, the end result is bringing Peter home. If for one second, there needs to be a decision made between the kid, or me, or anyone else, you best believe the kid comes first. Every time,” his tone was deep and rumbled like gravel. “Is that clear?”

There was a quiet moment between them. One only filled with the suffocating tension from Tony’s imposition.

Steve honestly didn’t know how to respond. Not at first. Not on instinct.

“That won’t need to happen,” he finally said, his voice too reserved for his own liking.

“Look me in the eye,” Tony demanded, the lines on his face tight. “He comes first. Is that clear?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak.

Nothing came out.

The silence only grew thicker, and the next inhale that lifted Steve's chest was a struggle. He stared at Tony, unable to break the hold the man had on his eyes. There was something about him that seemed different in that moment. Something as foreign as the magic he still couldn't wrap his head around.

It was the self-sacrificing, almost parental drive and commitment that he felt coming from Tony. It was the intrusive realization he'd been denying since the night the chameleon helmet had been stolen, finally ringing true to his ears.

Tony had changed. He'd come to accept that long ago — it wasn't as if they were both the same people they knew five years ago. But Tony's change was abrupt, not something he expected, not something he'd ever even considered. It was obvious the day he showed Peter off to the team.

Staring at him now, the flood of emotions pouring off from him — doubt, fear, panic, an unhindered compulsion to hurt those who had hurt his family — Steve came to realize those changes not only made him a different person...but a better one.

A handful of years ago, they once stood in a similar position. Steve insisting that Tony was nothing without his suit, that he knew men without such fancy armor worth ten of him. Tony stood next to him now, all but stripped of his technology, and eager to run head first into a battle they were unsure of. Ready to sacrifice himself for someone he felt was better than them all.

Steve decided, then and there, that he wouldn’t let that dedication go to waste.

“If it comes to that,” Steve preempted, “then yes.”

Identity Theft│ Chapter 16: Smoke and Mirrors

With each hit, Tony expected the next, anticipated them, and in the moments after they landed, he let his body relax. A blow smashed into his temple, rattling Tony’s head within his breaking helmet. He tried to escape, to wiggle out from under the man, his legs writhing desperately to get a grip on the floor.

Howard leaned back, panting breathlessly. “You resent your father for how he raised you, yet you couldn’t even protect a young boy from dangers you put him in. His death is on you, Stark.”

Tony took the moment and ran with it. With a grunt, he kneed the man between his legs, a painful cry showcasing his achievement. Tony gave one hefty smack across the side of his head and Dmitri toppled over, his appearance flickering on and off. He phased between multiple different people as the light-show filled the otherwise empty hallway.

Tony jumped up and dashed forward. He launched himself on top of Dmitri, planting him face-first onto the floor. His body-weight pinned him to the ground, his knees digging into his back to keep him still.

“You may be good at fighting, but you’re a damn horrible liar.” Tony smacked his head against the ground, holding it there. “Now I really don’t like asking things twice. Where. Is. He!?”

The helmet was shutting down. Tony could tell it had already been exposed to too much damage, the flickering lights bouncing off the billion nanites that ceased to function.

Dmitri’s eyes slid up to look at him.

“I’ll tell you when you’re dead,” he sneered.

WHAM!

A stern blow to his head, one after the other. Tony didn’t let up, using strength only emotion could fuel, chips of his metal suit flying from his knuckles. He beat the man relentlessly, beat him even as he damaged his own suit — his own form of protection — he didn’t let up.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!WHAM!

“Dead so you can take my money, right!?” Tony threw his arm back, punching again. “You did all this so you could take my money, you took my kid for my money — you fucking psychopath!”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. A blaze of rage shredded his restraint, a ballistic force unleashed and out of his control. It seemed like an hour, it seemed like a lifetime that he kept hitting and hitting and hitting and —

His knuckles were bleeding. The nanites spread around him like glitter, broken pieces of magnets shredded and discarded. Only when he physically lost his strength, his body tapping him out, did Tony stop.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 17: Grace Under Pressure

When the smeared blood took a curve into an open room, Tony half expected to be led down another hallway. He instead came to a startling halt at the entrance. To his surprise, the room was a dead end. It was just that — a room.

What caught his attention was the reflection of Captain America’s shield, the red and blue standing out from the dreary darkness around them. It was directed right at him, attached to Steve’s back, telling him that the man was facing forward. Tony squinted, realizing that Steve’s attention was clearly focused on something — or someone — important.

He stood frozen in the doorway, listening intently to the sounds from within. The voice was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it.

Almost.

“Stay with me, soldier,” Steve spoke softly, his tone more delicate than Tony had ever heard it before. “Easy now, I got you, son.”

Tony furrowed his brows. It was the only part of him that he could feel move, his nerves paralyzing the rest of his muscles. But he knew couldn’t have stood there long; Steve’s instincts kicked in quickly, his head turning over his shoulder when his presence was noticed.

He never said anything. It was probably for the best, Tony wasn’t sure if he would have heard him to begin with. Not over the pounding of his heartbeat, the blood rushing through his ears. Steve moved, just ever so slightly that both their flashlights gave sight to —

“Peter.” Tony’s breath lodged in his chest.

The kid was slumped forward, only held upright by the metal straps around his arms — Tony balked, they had him bolted against the wall. He was too far away to see if Peter’s eyes were open or not. It was too dark to see if he was even breathing, the intrusive thought making his stomach churn.

But he was there. No mind tricks, no sick psycho taking on his identity, it was him — his Peter.

His kid.

Tony was already across the room before he realized he was moving. Vaguely, he heard Steve say something, the intensity in his tone telling him he should listen. He couldn’t. His focus didn’t steer away, his eyes locked ahead, soaking in the sight like he hadn’t seen Peter in two years, not the two days it had been.

His knees hit the floor with a resounding smack.

“Hey, hey…” Tony breathed out. A sense of endearment he didn’t know was possible laced his tone. He suddenly understood why Cap had sounded the way that he did.

With what he saw in front of him, it almost felt natural to speak in such a way. He didn’t fight it, he didn’t push it away, and he’d deal with that startling thought at a later time.

The kid looked so...fragile. It was impossible not to speak with such delicacy, as if their voices could shatter him. His young age only intensified the sight of his broken frame.

Peter didn’t flinch, not at his words or Steve’s.

Unsure if he should touch him, Tony’s hands hovered over his body.

“I got you. I gotcha,” he chuckled, the laugh almost sounding hysterical. “We got you.”

Identity Theft│ Chapter 19: When the Bad Things Happen

Tony could have sworn his heart would burst out of his throat. His fragile, weak, shrapnel damaged heart.

Goddamn this kid.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had wasted standing uselessly in the doorway, unsure of where to go and if he should even walk inside. The room was packed and clustered with machinery, bustling with working staff and along the way, four-hundred-some square feet shrunk dramatically in the chaos.

Peter seemed to be center of it all, laying flat on his back, motionless in the hospital bed up against the far left wall.

It wasn’t until a nurse kindly walked him in that he finally moved. He barely muttered thanks, too busy staring at where Peter laid, a vortex of spiraling emotions sweeping him away.

Relief, horror, guilt, shame, fear, anxiety — and somehow none of it mattered. Once he was there, once he got close to Peter, he didn’t want to be a breath away. Not ever again.

He was alive. The kid was alive, and he didn’t even care that he needed to rely on the beeping machinery to tell him that. The blazing flames of a burning warehouse had been drowned out by the ocean’s salty waters and washed them ashore — damaged, beaten but alive.

He’d cling to that as long as he could.

Tony shifted weight on his feet and grimaced. Tubes, catheters, wires — Peter was surrounded by a warehouse of medical supplies. A very baggy gown barely covered him, hanging loosely from his shoulders, more like a blanket than an act of modesty. A thin sheet covered his waist but left his one leg exposed, something Tony adamantly refused to look at because he simply did not have that kind of strength right now. The glimmer of a metal rod was enough to make his stomach churn. His face wasn’t faring much better, a tube snaking down his throat and up his nose, IV’s in his arms and even his chest.

Yet nothing bothered him nearly as much as the stillness.

Peter was always moving, always hyperactive and bouncing with an energy he couldn’t contain. Once Tony had watched the kid doze off in his workshop, and even then he was twitching restlessly. He was never sure if it was his age, the spider-bite or both combined. Whatever it was, it was Peter. Bouncing, jumping, jittery and twitching — he never sat still.

Seeing him so still, so motionless — Tony hated it. Peter looked as if he were only a shell of himself, no color to his face and no warmth to his body. Tony swallowed convulsively against the rising bile in his throat. This was too much.

He had thought that his panic developed more into a slow burn, a languid torture that he could handle. He was wrong.

Tony’s hand dropped from the bed’s plastic railing, resting uneasily on the firm mattress beneath him. He hadn’t meant for his hand to fall on Peter’s, his fingers brushing up against the IVs and wires that protruded from underneath the sheets. He also didn’t move it away.

“You’re good, kid,” Tony muttered quietly.

It wasn’t naive to say as much. Healing factor or not, the kid had the strength of a thousand warriors, strong-willed beyond his expectations. If Peter could have that kind of resolve, so could he. If that meant doing everything in his power to get him better, that was what Tony would do.

“You’re stronger than all of us put together.”

The beeping of machines filled the air, some constant and some further apart. It practically drowned out his voice, already a whisper under his breath. Protectiveness rumbled in his chest and his sight locked onto Peter, unable to look away, unable to want to look away.

His shoulders were stiff and his neck tense, and he never paid mind to his fingers slipping underneath Peter’s palm, lightly gripping his hand in a loose hold. He never paid attention as his thumb grazed back and forth over Peter’s knuckles, distantly remembering the comfort it would bring him when his mother did the same thing.

“You’re good.”

Tony didn’t notice that Helen let him stay an extra eight minutes.

He did notice that Peter’s fingers twitched under his touch.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 20: Family Ties

He didn’t have anything to say in return. While May had returned her focus on Peter, she could still see as Tony closed his eyes, letting them rest that way. One may think he had fallen asleep, but she knew better.

She knew he was hiding.

It was something she noticed early on with Tony. It was an attempt to keep her from seeing the flurry of emotion that always passed through him, a rush of humanity almost always hid behind some fancy pair of sunglasses he insisted on wearing, the gatekeeper to his true self. He never showed his emotions by talking, instead it was his actions. Always do, never say.

He stayed quiet, occupied with his own thoughts, but his eyes would speak more than his mouth ever could. His actions always showed his concern; he would pace the floors, repeatedly check Peter’s medical charts, go as far as to make sure the hospital bills were covered, and was always persistent on getting updates from the doctors.

But this was the longest they had spoken since she arrived at the compound, going on three days. Even then, the conversation was mostly one-sided on her part. It was like a self-defense move, as if not talking would keep him in place — in check, from getting any closer to her and Peter.

May held back a laugh. The only problem with that was Tony had gotten himself knee-deep into that pool already.

Maybe he didn’t realize that yet.

Maybe he had trouble accepting it.

She caressed Peter’s hand. For a while, the quietness returned. Never peaceful, just a lull from their voices.

“You know, my husband used to have this look in his eyes whenever he was with Peter,” May said, the words heavy on her tongue. “It was unique, something I had never seen in him or...or anyone else before. It was like..I don't know, it’s hard to explain. It was like no matter what, Ben wanted to be there. For all the good parts, for all the bad parts. He wanted to teach him everything he knew and hope he could guide Peter from making the same mistakes he had made before. It was like...he knew he wasn’t Peter’s dad and he never wanted to try and replace Richard, but at the same time...he still wanted to be a father-figure for him. He didn’t want Peter to go without that in his life.”

May let out a heavy breath, and with it she turned to look at Tony. “I see a lot of that in you.”

Tony averted his gaze.

May didn’t need to see him to know how he felt.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 21: Sins of the Father

The air is crisp and cool. Refreshing. Tony takes in a deep breath of it, his shoulders sagging with relaxation.

The smell of salt water is strong, drafts of wind hitting his face with no sign of letting up. It’s his favorite aspect of the Malibu mansion. The evenings provide solitude, moments where only whispering waves of the ocean could be heard, water crashing and beating unforgivably against the mountain rocks.

His home. Looking out from his bedroom windows, he releases a lungful of air, and his eyelids close shut, giving way to a small smile on his face. Nothing could ever take away the tranquility of his home.

“Mr’...Stark...I...I don’t...”

His eyes snap open.

Peter lays heavy in his arms, beaten and broken. Bleeding. The blood is everywhere, coating his hands, staining his skin. He grips Peter’s body tighter, pulling him closer, hugging him with nauseating despair.

Over the sound of ocean waves, he hears the wheezing, the struggle — a crackly, heartbreaking whine.

“I don’t feel so good.” Peter’s voice is barely a whimper, drifting away in the wind. An exhale of air escapes the boy’s chest and Tony waits for a returning breath.

It never comes.

The smell of the open sea no longer brings him peace. The horror swells inside of him, eats away at his bones, the sulfur and ocean-life now nothing but a repulsive taste in his mouth.

CRASH!

Tony shields the motionless body with his own, bracing himself for the impact. Windows break around him, the glass mansion shattering with the intensity of the wind. He waits to be swept away, to feel the never-ending tide hit his body like knives, freezing and paralyzing. He waits for the outpour of the ocean that never comes.

“Tony, Tony, Tony…”

His eyes locked intently on the man kneeling in front of him. He’s no longer kneeling, he’s sitting. He’s paralyzed. He can’t move, crippled to the sofa. His heart withers away with fear, decaying from the ruins of panic that steal his breath.

Obadiah shakes his head, scoffing. “Look at you.”

The man’s voice is gruff, breathy against his skin. Too close, too close for comfort, his nerves screaming danger. The weather from outside the mansion roars, winds howling, lightning blazing and thunder rolling. He’s helpless to its wrath, paralyzed in place.

“It’s a shame, you know.” Obadiah moves closer, leaving little space between the two of them. His hand lays against Tony’s chest.“I spent thirty years of my life holding you up, at your side, guiding you through the tundra of a dog eat dog world that you would never have survived without me.”

The lights from above shine brightly onto his bald head; successions of flashing lightning obscure his face. Tony’s mind hollers to get up, to run, run-danger-run-run—

Obadiah squeezes his face, hard. His other hand claws at Tony’s chest, fingers digging for a hole that no longer exists. Tony shudders at those familiar, sadistic blue eyes staring him down, the need to scream burgeoning.

“Thirty years, Tony. You barely gave that boy one, and look at what it did to him.”

His face is held tightly in Obadiah’s grasp, cheeks aching at the pressure. His eyes wander freely. They lock on the corner of the room, the shadow of a mangled body barely seen. The lightning illuminates red and blue, the suit — his creation, Peter’s livelihood — laying in a crumbled mess.

“You finally outdid yourself,” Obadiah belittles. “Did you really think that you could right your wrongs...just like that? Take a child under your wing and sing the praises of unearned, undeserved redemption? He was better off without you, Tony. Your influence is only poison, you containment and kill everything you touch. That’s why we worked better in weapons manufacturing. That’s why you’re a —”

“You’re a failure.”

His eyes look back.

Stane is gone.

His limbs move freely, no longer held down by his former business partner, someone who he once considered to be a mentor. The storm comes to a sudden stop, leaving only darkness in its wake.

And Howard Stark.

They stare at each other.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 22: Sweet Sixteen

Tony leaned forward against the wet metal railings, feeling the dampness sink into his wrinkled AC/DC t-shirt.

“It is what it is. He’ll have to deal.”

Pepper huffed a sigh. “Tony, you’re being—”

“He almost died!” Tony shot up stiff as a board, facing her head on and he forced himself to dry swallow in an attempt to rid himself of the painful lump forming in his throat. “He almost died, Pep. I held him in my arms as he...”

A shiver rippled through his core and Tony had to look away, trying to focus on anything but the echoes of haunting memories that crudely invaded his mind. The smell of musty grass, the humidity in the air, the drizzle of rain — anything but the pleas, the cries and the screams.

Tony sniffed, swiping his thumb over his nose. “People like Dmitri won’t be able to hurt him if I stay out of his life. If it means I need to cut all ties to keep him safe, you can be damn well sure that’s what I plan on doing.”

Bringing the thermos to his mouth, he let the coffee scorch his throat as he drank gulp after gulp, desperate to settle his nerves. He was barely getting by telling himself things would get easier, better, that he’d go back to how things were before and then it wouldn’t be so difficult anymore.

Right now, it was the only thought that kept him together, like glue to a broken vase. If he couldn’t protect the kid at arms reach, it’d have to be done at a mile’s distance. Right now, he just wanted Peter to be safe.

That apparently couldn’t happen as long as he was around.

They’d deal with it. Eventually.

“You know,” Pepper visibly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You once told me that you wanted your legacy to be about more than just weapons and technology.”

Tony didn’t break his stare, eyes locked straight ahead. “Your point?”

Pepper stared at him, her eyebrow high in the air. It took a moment for things to click, to finally register what she was implying. The moment it hit him, Tony spun on his heels with comically large, wide eyes.

“Him?” His voice squeaked at the absurdity of the implication. “Pepper, he’s —”

She immediately held a hand in the air. “Wait a minute, hold on—”

“He’s got an aunt, he’s got his own life, he —”

“Hold on, you are jumping way ahead of things.” Pepper sighed. “Like you usually do.”

“Hey!” He pointed a finger her way. “I take offense to that.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tony. Hear me out.”

“I always hear you out,” he insisted.

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you now?”

“I do.” Tony puffed out his chest and straightened his posture. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

Pepper stared him straight on. “So you’re not nervously rambling like a buffoon —”

“Not at all.”

“Because I brought up the slightest possibility of Peter taking on a bigger role in your life —”

Tony shook his head. “No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Similar to that of...I don’t know, a son?”

“He’s not my son,” Tony finally snapped, his voice dangerously low. “Okay? He’s not. He’s just some kid, some brat who got in way over his head and is, quite frankly, lucky that I came along to keep an eye on his scrawny pubescent ass.”

Pepper squinted suspiciously at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” she repeated.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 23: Bridge Over Troubled Water

If the injection of medicine did indeed bother him, Peter didn’t let it show. The entire time Bruce emptied the contents of the syringe through his IV, Peter stayed staring straight ahead, occasionally blinking and smacking his chapped lips.

“... whoa ...”

The effects were immediate, more-so than any other drug they had given the kid.

“Taste...funny,” Peter managed to mumble, his words thick and slurred. “Like...coconut.”

Every muscle in his body visibly loosened, one by one until he started drifting forward, to the point where Tony had to tighten his grip and keep him steady. Both him and Bruce gently pushed him back against the pillows of the bed, comfortably arranging his limbs for him.

And as Peter sagged into the comfort of the mattress, all tension drained from his muscles, Tony sagged in relief with him. The adrenaline surge left his body all at once.

He lifted a brow, waiting expectantly. “Feeling better?”

Peter wearily nodded, his lashes fluttering with little attempt to keep his eyes open. Each movement of his became slower until eventually, he found himself leaning to the side, his shoulder resting heavily against Tony’s chest.

“There ya go, that’s it.” Helplessly, Tony found the corners of his mouth curling upward, and without a second thought he tangled his fingers into Peter’s sweat-dampened hair. The kid’s head lolled into his chest like a rag-doll, and it was only then Tony realized this was the closest he had been to Peter since…

It became quiet. The few nurses still in the room preoccupied themselves with their assigned tasks and the machinery surrounding them drastically quieted down, no longer the angry beasts they once were.

At that moment, everything seemed to melt away, as if the sounds and sights surrounding him ceased to exist. Words darted away from him, and as everyone else stopped talking, he found it unnecessary to converse himself. He focused on the gentle rise and fall of Peter’s chest, the soft breathing that escaped from his mouth, the peace that encompassed his face.

‘He’s okay.’ Fingers carded through Peter’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp without even realizing it. His heart fluttered in a soft beat as the kid fell lax. It was, without any doubt, the most calm he had seen from the kid in days.

It was easily the best thing he had seen in weeks.

His wandering fingers untangled from the soft, brown curls down to Peter’s cheek, the back of his hand stroking his relaxed facial features. With it, he brushed away the drying tears that smeared across his skin.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 25: Grounds for Improvement

It happened quickly; one cry tearing off into two, choking off into more. Though the doors to the hospital room were shut by automatic nature, the sounds easily leaked out into the hallway. Managing to slip through glass and drywall and drifting away from the seclusion of just the two of them.

Tony had still been looking at his phone’s text messages when he heard it.

By knee-jerk reaction he began to walk away; his head down low, dodging the corners only by habit.

This wasn’t a moment for him to bear witness to. It felt private. Intensely private.

Tony wasn’t oblivious; he could see the anxiety riddling Peter, the distant look in his eyes and the small muscle in his chin working — quivering. The tension had been palpable, and after all the kid had gone through, he certainly deserved a break-down or two. Or six.

It was no surprise he waited for the comfort of his aunt until he had one.

An ember of jealousy ignited in Tony's chest at the odd desire to have been there instead. It wasn’t his place or his time. He said it once before and he’d say it again — they weren’t there yet.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 25: Grounds for Improvement

Stark Expo 2010.

That had to make the kid, what? Tony did the math, coming to the age of eight.

The little Peter he stared at was eight years old. Half the kid's lifetime ago.

Tony ran his finger along the photograph, the gloss lost due to age and the edges bent with the bottom corner torn.

Looking at it, and something more tugged at his memory.

He laid the photos out, letting the piece of notebook paper sit to the side. The photos seemed to be kept together as a set, all taken of this one family trip. The young kid wearing cheap Iron Man merch, hoodie and fingerless gloves with the toy helmet too big for his head — Tony realized it was Peter.

He picked up the photo. ‘Wow, kid was scrawny back then.’

Tony pursed his lips, humming. The thought ate away at him, the memory on the tip of his tongue. There was more to this, there had to be. It wasn’t that the Parker’s had gone to a Stark Expo — though he, of course, wished it hadn’t been that Stark Expo.

So much had happened that year with nearly dying, nearly losing both Pepper and Rhodey in his life, dealing with SHIELD using Natasha to spy on him — nearly dying, that served to be mentioned twice. For a fleeting moment, he almost gave up — sure that he wouldn’t be able to recall such a tiny detail in the mass of events that had occurred.

Tony leaned back in his chair, defeated, and sighing to let the universe know as much.

God, what a shitshow of a night. His head fell back and he stared up at the ceiling, recalling the disastrous monstrosity that was Stark Expo 2010. Those damn Hammer drones sent out to target Iron Man; they were lucky no one else managed to get seriously hurt in that cluster fu —

“Nice work, kid.”

Tony shot forward in the chair.

The photograph of Peter laid on-top of the scattered prints, with Iron Man helmet barely fitting his small head.

“Huh,” he found himself saying aloud, staring at the picture with unblinking eyes.

It was an minuscule moment in time, surely stored away only because his problems nearly got a child killed. Tony knew that he’d never put the two-and-two together had it not been for those photos, telling him a story he hadn’t realized he needed to hear.

The scrap piece of notebook paper called out to him. Tony snatched it a bit too hastily, suddenly needing to know what it said.

It was folded three times in and Tony had to shake it flat once opened. His eyes scanned the cursive handwriting, all the while ignoring the way his heart beat heavily in his chest.

Tony,

One way or another, you’ve always been in his life. The only difference now is you have a chance to make that count.

I trust you’ll do the right thing.

May Parker.

His eyes darted from the note to the stack of photos behind it. Tony slowly relaxed in his chair, never tearing his eyes from either of the two.

Recalling that memory was like watching another life rip open before him at the seams, a time where he only lived to feed his ego and feed it well. He realized, back then, that he was allowing his pride to dominate; coddling it as a mechanism of self-protection. It was nothing more than allowing weakness to masquerade as strength.

The photo surprised him, shaking loose latent feelings he hadn’t realized were even there. A paternal aspiration everyone had made clear to him but he had so adamantly denied.

Here Tony was, trying to determine how to best structure the boundary of his relationship with Peter and meanwhile, it had already been created for him.

'A fierce commitment.' Tony could feel his lips pursing to the side. There wouldn't be any running away, there wouldn't be any digging his head into the sand — not when a line had already been scratched out in that sand, reclaimed by the shifting tides of the events they'd suffered through.

The choice was already made for him, years ago. He just never knew it.

‘Fine,’ Tony thought, smacking his lips and folding his arms over his chest. ‘Time to regroup, then.’

He could still negative this. He could still make this work.

Besides, back in the base, he would have done anything for a second chance — a breath of opportunity to start again. To give Peter everything he needed, the whole world, the life he deserved.

The photos provided a new outlook, a window where he had originally thought there was a wall. Tony saw that he had the power to be the architect to his own life, to build reality to the desires he always wanted.

He had that now.

What was he to do with it?

Tony cracked a smile.

Whatever it was, whatever it required, he was ready for what came next.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 26: Building Blocks

Even as he went on to explain the finer details of their rescue mission, the room lacked any tension. It helped greatly that Peter wasn’t immune to the pure star-struck wonderment at hearing Tony’s stories, listening intently to how they had increased the tensile strength on his web fluid, how a magical wizard got them in and out of the place, and most of all —

“You finished the nano-suit!?” he exclaimed, nearly jumping out of bed with excitement. “Can I see it!?”

“Sorry, bud.” Tony gave a small shake of his head, his finger lazily pointing down to Peter’s leg. “It’s on you.”

Peter frowned, looking down at his leg before back up at Tony. “What?”

“What was left of it — used it for that sock you’re wearing,” Tony explained. “It’s a nanite cast, designed to promote bone healing. I’m sure Bruce will be thrilled to show you the x-rays of how mangled your leg was. He said it was in eight pieces or something, shattered like a stale piece of peanut brittle.”

Peter didn’t seem to be paying attention. As Tony rambled on, he removed the blanket that covered his leg to better stare at the thick black and silver device that he wore around his calf. It was every sense of the word futuristic, conforming around his leg from the knee down, fitting snugly like his suit. If he stared at it long enough, he could see lights run up the length of the sleeve every so often.

“No way,” Peter lamented, looking over at Tony sadly. “But you put so much work into that!”

Despite Peter’s protest and remorse for the forsaken project, Tony couldn’t muster up a will to care.

“Well, you’re more important,” he answered honestly. “Besides, I can make another suit. I can’t make another Peter Parker.”

Tony hadn’t meant to create a moment between them, the words having slipped out before he realized what he was saying. Peter stared at him, at first confused and slightly startled, before he slowly let himself relax and smile.

It was a look so warm, Tony was sure it could melt even the coldest of hearts. While he couldn’t take the words back, he quickly realized that he didn’t even want to. He tried to remember the photos he had sitting in his workshop, to remember that as uncomfortable as the emotion felt, that he wanted this.

And besides, Peter didn’t seem to be fighting it. Kid was glowing brighter than the sun.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 27: Growing Pains

Despite his encouragement, Peter remained dejected. “You were right, though. The moment I mess up and it’s ‘ Spider-Man: Thwarted by local street magician.’ So stupid.”

“Yeah, well...” Tony popped his lips, shrugging. “What do they know?”

Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“No, seriously, what do they know?” Tony asked again, piquing Peter’s interest. He finally looked up from his hands, frowning, completely puzzled. Tony met his gaze head-on. “Tomorrow’s issue isn’t going to be about Spider-Man taking down a psychopathic Russian spy in an underwater facility, all with two broken wrists, hypothermia, a concussion—”

Peter blushed with embarrassment. “Okay, I—I get it—”

“A shattered leg, a gaping hole in his stomach and back,” Tony went on, ignoring his protest. “And you still managed to knock that Bond wannabe flat on his ass. Don’t let some outdated, old fart of a journalist who’s a couple years away from retiring and starting a podcast get under your skin.”

Peter gave a soft, wobbly laugh that brought on the inkling of a smile. With it, the tension seemed to thin just enough that Tony felt comfortable leaning forward, resting a firm open palm on Peter’s shoulder.

“For every ten good things Iron Man does, there has to be fifty that the press doesn’t talk about. They will always pick and chose what the public wants to hear. That doesn’t discredit your doing, kiddo. You know in your heart what you’re doing is right.” Tony’s voice dropped a little, quieter but no less sincere. “And if I’ve been hard on you lately about that, well...I really have no excuse. I just want you to be safe.”

Peter nodded, letting his smile widen a tad bit more. The feel of Tony’s thumb stroking over the curve of his shoulder was grounding, comfortable. It reminded him a lot of the same feeling he’d get when he wore his suit — protection, safety.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony patted his shoulder before leaning to the side in his chair, grabbing his coffee cup from next to him.

“Always thanking me, and I never know what for.”

Peter gave an easy smile and shrugged, a swell of warmth and gratitude replacing the butterflies of anxiety in his chest.

“For being here.”

Tony looked up from his coffee cup and gave him a wink, all charm, no bite. Any worry he had about his off-handed comment from before faded away with it, and Peter grinned as he picked his phone back up, though he was too distracted to really use it.

He stared down at the device, flipping it around, caught up in his own thoughts. He almost felt silly for having panicked earlier over what he’d say. It was just that he and Mr. Stark always had an odd relationship, never really defined, always bouncing between ‘he helps me do my superhero-ing and keeps me in line’ to ‘he’s like my mentor and teaches me all these cool things’.

But that had changed lately, since Homecoming, since he broke-in-but-not-really-broke-in to the Avengers facility. He wasn’t exactly sure what this was now, what they had become. He didn’t care either way. He liked it.

Uncle Ben would always tell him to try and find the positives out of any situation he was faced with.

Peter smiled — he was pretty sure he just found one.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame

“I’m going to answer your question in the simplest terms possible and I ask that in return you keep the rising level of emotions to barely above average, capisce?” Tony crossed his arms and tilted his chin low, tired eyes meeting Peter’s.

Peter nodded a little too fast, rapt with eagerness.

Tony hesitated, taking a moment to reel himself back in. He was dangerously close to backing out, coming up with some pathetic excuse that he was sure Peter would buy in a heartbeat. But it wouldn’t do him any good, he had to remind himself of that.

This whole thing he felt going on — the ever-incessant ‘more than mentorship’ deal everyone called him out on — it was a two-way street. If he wanted to be better than Howard, he needed to put himself out there. He needed to be better than his own father if he had a shot at this.

It wouldn’t come easily. But then again, nothing good ever did.

It was that realization that pushed Tony forward, breaking through the walls he had built for himself, if only a smidgen.

“Growing up, my dad didn’t give me a lot of support. He was cold. He was calculating. Never told me he loved me, never even told me he liked me.” Tony took a deep breath in, his chest visibly rising. “What I’m trying to say here, kid, is that I don’t have the best first-hand experience with this sort of- stuff. Christ, the world’s lucky Pepper doesn’t even want children, can you imagine how badly I’d screw up a child?”

Peter smiled so softly, with such a gentle glow that Tony almost felt bad for dumping a load of pessimism on him.

“I think you’d make a great dad, Mr. Stark,” he said, the happy lift in his tone enough to break through even the iciest of hearts.

Tony smiled in a way he wasn’t initially sure he had been capable of doing. The kid was too pure for his own good, He couldn’t help the burning blaspheme at thanking whatever higher being was out there protecting that innocence.

Even with weeks building a gap between believing the kid was dead and holding him alive in his arms, Tony’s gratitude hadn’t diminished. He still felt the same, immense indebtedness that Peter was getting a second chance at things. That they were getting a second chance at things.

All and all, he still felt like it was a miracle to be here, in the now, with Peter by his side. He hoped to never lose that feeling.

“You’re a great kid, Pete. And not just because you’ve decided to run around New York a skin-tight suit putting yourself in harm’s way every chance you can get.” Tony cleared his throat, working to rid the raw emotion that laced his words. “So seeing as I’m not good with the whole touchy-feely sort of dialogue happening here, I’m going to say this once and you better listen good because I can’t promise I’ll ever repeat it. You’re...well, I’ll just say it. You’re like a son to me. I don’t ever want to entertain the idea of losing you again, not because it’ll be heavy on my conscience, but because you have a lot to offer this world and in the grand scheme of things, you’ve barely begun.”

Peter stared at Tony for a long time, at a loss for what to say. The understanding seemed to crash into him in waves, each staggering in a series of what had been the past year and a half. Germany, Toomes, Homecoming night, frequent internship visits, the Chameleon helmet, the burning building, the undersea base, Dmitri...each event began to stack on top of the other, building into something completely new.

He had always felt like Mr. Stark had been the anchor to his otherwise turbulent super-hero life. He had just never expected that side of him to transition into other aspects. Personal aspects.

And just like that, Peter’s throat began to tighten once he realized how much that truly meant to him.

“I...I don’t know what to...”

“Don’t. C’mon, learn to feel the room, you’ll ruin the moment.” Tony waved his hand, motioning for him to come closer. “Just bring it in before I regret this.”

Peter didn’t have much say in the interaction. Tony had already wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in tightly, so close that Peter could rest his chin against the crook of the man’s neck.

His embrace was warm, albeit surprising. Peter’s eyes widened enough that he worried they might pop right out of his sockets. And though he relished at the contact, he did little other than lay a hand gently against Tony’s back to reciprocate. Part of him couldn’t tell if this was real or not. In his defense, the last time he assumed they were hugging, Mr. Stark was just trying to open the door for him.

When the touch wasn’t grounding enough for him, the scent was. It was hard not to notice the smell of his cologne, different from the usual musky, smokey scents he found most older men wore. Mr. Stark smelt light, fresh, reminding him a lot of the familiar smell he often encountered while recovering in the infirmary.

It made him feel safe. It occurred to him a beat later why that was.

Just when his muscles began to loosen, allowing him to fully enjoy the moment —

“Mr. Stark, this isn’t…this isn’t a hug, is it?” he joked, resisting a smirk. “I thought we weren’t there yet?”

The words were delivered with such intense sincerity that it took Tony a few seconds to even register them. When he did, he pulled away abruptly, his face stern even once being greeted with Peter’s million dollar smile.

“See what you just did there? That was ruining it. Never do that again.” Tony waved him an open palm. “Proud of yourself?”

Peter laughed.

Tony warmed up to a smile.

Identity Theft│ Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame

“Wait! Hold up, hold on!” Peter swivels around, running back towards them both, gripping his cue-cards tightly. “I forgot something!”

Tony gaped, gesturing ahead. “Peter, they’re about to call your name, you need to — ompfh!”

The weight of a muscular sixteen-year-old teenager smacks into him, his breath nearly knocked out of his chest before he can finish. With eyes comically wide, Tony stumbles back, Peter’s arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“Love ya, dad.” A huge grin spreads across Peter’s face, his head tucked deep in the crook of Tony’s neck.

“Love you too, son.” Tony returned the gesture with a squeeze that may have been twice as enthusiastic as Peter’s. He only pulls away once the announcer calls Peter by name, going to pat him on the back before ushering him away.

Peter nods quickly, giving Pepper a toothy smile before turning his back on them both.

The red velvet curtains begins to draw upwards, inching towards the high ceilings with a whir that could barely be heard over the announcer’s voice booming from the surround sound. As soon as he stopped speaking, the crowd began to clap, a harsh echo of their greeting bouncing off the walls of the large concert hall.

With his shoulders pulled back tight and his hands nervously rubbing together, Peter spares Tony one more look, his grin brighter than the lights that began to flood in from the auditorium stage. His grin spoke it all— the audience could be a million strong and Peter would only ever care about one person’s opinion, only ever care about his number one fan.

Tony could feel his heart soar out of his chest from that look, overflowing with pride.

The stage lights seep in as the curtains pull up, casting an overwhelming bright halo where Peter stood. It eclipses around him, highlights him as he begins to walk on stage until eventually, Tony can see nothing but white.

He opened his eyes to the same.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice seemed distant, but her hand was firm on his shoulder, grounding him to reality. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony blinked, his every thought in high definition, his mind seemingly caught between then and now. The crisp white colors to his bed-sheets filled his vision, his eyes slowly coming into focus until eventually he could see even the finer crinkles from his own pillowcase.

The overhead lights to their bedroom were bright from above, harsh in comparison to the gently rising orange sun coming from the room’s window. Pepper’s warm body was settled next to his, a weight that dipped the mattress low.

“Hey...” she softly said, leaning further into his vision. “Another nightmare?”

Tony shook his head, his mouth dry, slacked open. His heart beat fast in his chest despite never having been jolted awake, never having woken up with a scream or a shout.

He slowly managed to sit up from his resting position on his side, the goosebumps that traveled up his arms razor sharp.

“No. It was...” Tony shook his head, his hand running down the length of his face. “I had a dream.”

There was a heavy silence that fell between them, the rhythm of Pepper sweeping her hand across his arm the only indicator that time still existed. The fluorescent lights from above began to dim away, allowing the sunrise from outside to cast a golden ray of copper hues into the room, bringing with it a brand new day.

He took a shallow breath in as she stared at him, exhorted him silently, softly and without any words.

“We had a kid,” Tony explained, swallowing hard. “It felt so real.”

[iibonniee]

Love not Loved (Jason Todd)

Warnings: Self-doubt, self-hate, a tiny bit of angst, uncertainty, massive fluff, the slowest fucking burn I've ever written in my life, mentions of past Jason (Arkham Knight)

Word count: 8.1k (My longest fic ever written).

Jason had never thought Gotham would’ve changed so much over the years since he was gone. But alas it did. It didn’t pause to wait for him when he was gone, rather it kept going as if him leaving meant nothing to the harsh place. With those changes to Gotham, there were also changes in the home he had once barely grown-up in. No matter how upset he had been with Bruce throughout the whole time he was gone, he was semi grateful he was allowed back in the manor.

Jason had met the man he’d call his replacement. Enjoyed the time he got with Alfred, the man that he cherished more than anyone in that house. Dick of course came home and was thrilled to see his brother alive and what seemed to be well. But the one thing Jason was shocked to see was her. The girl who had knocked on the manor door. The girl that the Bruce Wayne held the brightest smile for. The girl he hugged so tightly it was her who pulled away. Now Jason was shocked, confused, but also intrigued.

Him being so intrigued had little questions roaming about in his head. They were small at first then they screamed at him. It drove him wild. The family, hell everyone seemed to cherish her. But Jason Peter Todd found himself being too afraid to talk to her. Too afraid to walk in her direction. Had she been someone he attacked during Scarecrow’s takeover on Gotham? He didn’t know. Or perhaps he had forgotten. He knew that night laid hard on him so trying to forget whatever he could always helped him rest. Then that day she managed to talk to him, to keep him there long enough to get a simple sentence out of him when he realized his heart had never raced so fast in his life.

It was hard to tell when it all started. When the feelings blossomed within his heart. He stood in his room trying to think of what was going through his mind was correct but he knew what his heart wanted. He wanted her. Though it was hard, he didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. He refused to reach out to anyone. Too afraid to ask Alfred for help.

He tried to think of the signs, where it all started. Was it when she walked into the manor and gave him the warmest smile he’s ever seen? Or was it when she made sure he got home safe from a long night out on patrol? His mind came up with everything blank. He couldn’t help but sigh on that one, fists clenching at his side. His growing crush only seemed to get worse and worse with each passing day. Her smile would always get him to blush and the slight compliment would get him to stutter. He didn’t know what effect she had on him but he wanted to know, or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he enjoyed it too much.

He could remember clearly just the two of them in the library together, silence was pleasing and not uncomfortable. He enjoyed it, the feeling of comfort and knowing she was with him kept him content. It was only when their fingers touched did his body freeze, his heart beginning to pound within his chest. He watched as her eyes widened, noticing his current state, the rush of “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” spewing from her mouth. He didn’t want her to be sorry, he wanted to feel her touch again. It was everything he didn’t know he wanted and more.

That night he laid in his bed tossing and turning, he knew he was tired but he couldn’t sleep, he was missing something. Maybe, someone? No. He couldn’t be missing her. He sat up, hands running over his face. Oh, how he wishes he could fall asleep, but the thought of her kept coming back and it drove him wild. She was special to him, far from special. He wanted her to be his, but that was complicated. He was a broken man. Someone who didn’t deserve the love she seemed to have.

His mind raced too much that night, so he opted to just stay awake for the night, coffee and a cold shower will be his lifesaver in the morning. Quickly he got changed and made his way out of his room allowing his legs to take him wherever. The light coming from the library had him raise a brow, mind now wondering who was possibly awake at such a time. It could be Bruce, but he remembered how he sped out of the cave. So as silently as he could he walked in, eyes looking around the room only to land on one single person. Her.

He was conflicted, he debated if he should join her. He could, but would he be too awkward? He couldn’t decide as he stood there mindlessly playing with the soft fabric of his T-shirt. She sat alone, she looked comfortable. The shirt that covered up the shorts she wore beneath with a book in her hand made her look relaxed. He couldn’t help but smile slightly. And feelings of doubt and uncertainty gone. The moment the two sets of eyes locked he froze.

“Jason.” Her voice was like honey, so sweet, or something addicting. He simply couldn’t get enough of it. He watched as she set her book down, body now turned to him fully, “You’re awake.”

He stood frozen watching as she patted the spot beside her. His legs moved on there and before he knew it, he was sat beside her, so close he could feel the comforting warmth that came from her body. The hands that laid nicely on her lap looked inviting to hold within his own but he didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to push any boundaries with her especially since the two of them were so close.

He felt like he could trust her, that maybe he could break down these walls he had up to protect himself to be closer to her. He needed her, and maybe just hopefully she needed him. He watched as she turned to him fully, legs now crossed over the other as she smiled. The soft warm and inviting one everyone loved.

“Can I ask you something?” Anything. She could ask that man anything and he’d try his best to answer as well as he could without coming off as awkward as he usually did. The only thing he could muster was a nod. “The boys and I are heading to a club tomorrow to relax and hope to relieve some of this stress Bruce throws on us, do you wanna come with us?”

The puppy eyes, the only weakness Jason has was her puppy eyes. If it were Dick or Tim he’d scoff and tell them how pathetic they were, but those puppy eyes came from her, and he hated how he couldn’t say no when she was giving him those eyes. So when she asked him to join, he wanted to say no, of course, his luck wouldn’t have been on his side when she pulled out those damn puppy eyes, grabbing his hands within her own begging him to accompany her. The warmth was like a jolt of energy that went straight to his heart causing it to race so fast he swore the whole earth could hear it. Of course, he tried to look away, but her face kept following his eyes until he sighed finally saying he’d go.

Quickly her puppy eyes were replaced with a bright smile as she jumped up and down within her spot. His heart hammered within his chest at that simple smile. Damn, he was hooked. He looked away, trying to think of something else rather than the smile she wore.

His attention was quickly brought back to her when he felt fingers run through his hair, eyes locked onto hers as the smile she held seemed intoxicating. She watched as her hands played with the short strands of hair, seeming interested especially in the one piece that hung so loosely. The hum that came from him caught even himself off guard, but she didn’t seem fazed as she kept going. Honey-sweet smile stayed on her face as he felt his heart race within his rib cage and for a moment he thought; is this love?

He watched as she pulled her fingers away, a pout surprisingly forming on his face. One she didn’t catch onto and he was glad she didn’t. That gave him a moment to sigh in relief, the sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. She looked into his eyes, her eyes holding a look he couldn’t tell or understand.

“Ok, I should probably get some rest.” He watched her yawn, hands going over her head to stretch. “Busy day tomorrow.”

He knew she was right; tomorrow would be a busy day so as he watched her wave goodbye and leave the library he sat back on the couch, thinking to himself. It was only when he himself let out a yawn did, he realize how tired he actually was. He gave it sometime before he ventured into his otherwise empty room.

The next day was pretty boring, he spent most of it avoiding people and doing some reading. When he saw her skipping up to him around 7:30 at night he knew it was time. As much as he wanted to beg he knew he was in too deep and he couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment resting on her face. So with a small frown, he grabbed his leather coat, slipping it on and following her.

The drive to the club wasn’t long and it wasn’t boring. He opted to sit next to her during the drive. Completely ignoring what his two brothers were saying. The feeling of her being beside him was simply intoxicating. He felt like he could get used to her smell. She smelled like home.

What he wasn’t prepared for was how utterly packed the club was. His heart began to race fast wondering if this was the best way to go. Jason didn’t get out as much knowing that with her being in the manor was where he wanted to be. So being around so many people held uncertainty, doubt, and some self-consciousness. He made his way towards a table somewhere in the back hoping that since he came, she wouldn’t bug him too much to mingle. He was certainly glad she gave him a thumbs up then went to go and follow Dick. He couldn’t help but watch her, the way she moved or the way she laughed at something Grayson said as he slid her a drink. Of course, the feeling of jealousy hit harder than he’d care to admit, but it was the simple fact that she held a smile on her face that drove him home.

God, he couldn’t help but fall for her harder and she wasn’t doing anything special. He watched as she moved towards him now holding two drinks in her rather small hands. Her smile was intoxicating and he found himself smiling harder than he was before. He watched her set the drinks down soon, taking the seat in front of him.

“I’d ask if you were having fun but you’ve been here the whole night.” She teased and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the odd sense of security filling him as she took a sip of her drink, eyes glancing back towards him. “What’s up?”

He raised a brow wondering how to answer such a question. Shaking his head, he opted to stay silent, allowing the music to fill the comfortable silence. He hissed not used to the strong burn of whatever she served him, but he knew this was alcohol.

“I’m just relaxing. I’m not used to any of this.” His voice was soft but loud enough for you to hear. Her honey-sweet smile soon appeared as she was glad he had spoken. He watched her down the rest of your drink, face soon distorting and shaking as she soon coughed.

“Well, it’s just one night.” She beamed. He watched as her e/c looked around the club then landed back on his. She began telling him a story that Grayson had told her while the two were ordering drinks. As much as he didn’t care too much for his older brother, he was glad it was her telling him the story rather than him. “I’m gonna go find the two idiots, let me know if you need anything.”

With that she left, a wink being shot at him again. He sat back against his seat, a frown soon appearing on his face as his mind ran. He missed her already and she hadn’t been gone for more than 10 minutes. He watched from afar as her face contorted into confusion, soon pointing at a man then looking back towards Tim who seemed to just shrug his shoulders, holding her shoulder back but soon releasing it as she spoke to him.

His eyes followed her movement as she walked towards the guy, a smile that seemed almost forced. She tapped the guy’s shoulder as he turned to her, eyeing her up like she was candy. Jason felt his hand turn into a fist but it was soon gone as he watched her pull her fist back allowing it to meet his face a moment later. He stumbled back tripping on his feet as he fell, her body following him down as her fists continued to connect until she was pulled away by Dick, the man on the floor scrambling away closer to where Jason sat hearing him scream how she was a psycho.

He was now curious. He wanted to know what had her act like this since she was the type to not act out. He watched as she put up a fight, the loud music blocking off whatever she had been yelling at the man. With a frown he watched Tim walk towards him, frown on his own face.

“Hey Jay we’re gonna head out, she can’t stay here,” Tim pointed towards where she now stood at the entrance, seeming to get yelled at by the oldest. Jason nodded his head following the male towards the door where she stood, frown sitting heavy on her face as she tried to avoid the angry blue eyes.

He wanted to ask when he was close enough but it seemed like Dick was only beginning his yelling, only looking away to tell the third Robin that he would be coming back home with them for he was done for the night. This caused her to groan and shoot him a look in which he rolled his eyes to, pushing her towards the door.

The ride back home was silent and rather uncomfortable for Jason. She sat in the back with him once again opting to look out the window as she held her bloody fist, eyes oftentimes narrowing in what seemed to be anger. The second Dick put the car in park she opened the door and made her way into the rather large house, ignoring the yelling from the oldest Robin as he followed her in. Jason took that moment of silence to look at Tim with a raised brow who simply sighed.

“The dude she punched started talking shit about you and she didn’t enjoy it too much,” Tim spoke looking at where she wandered off to. That sentence had his heart flutter. “If Dick didn’t pull her off that man would’ve been in a coma.”

Jason found her down in the cave roaming around to find things to clean up her fist. He brought his fist to the metal table successfully gaining her attention as she looked back at him then looked away.

“Need help?” His voice was soft as he watched her nod her head taking a seat on the bed that sat in the middle of the room. He walked in grabbing everything he needed to help. “What happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to lecture me as well,” She huffed watching as he wiped the blood away apologizing when he heard her hiss. “Some dude opened his mouth and started talking about something he shouldn’t be talking about and I taught him a lesson.”

He chuckled at the line, eyes locking onto hers. She smiled, thanking him for treating her wounds. He heard the soft sigh come from her as her head fell softly, teeth pulling at the delicate flesh of her lip as she thought. Soon enough her eyes found him again, fingers flicking his cheek which caught him off guard but gained a laugh from him soon after.

“You should laugh more, it’s a refreshing sound.” Within seconds the warm feeling hit his face as he processed her words. Was he going to break down in that spot for such a small compliment? Most likely. He shook his head quickly, turning his back to her as he put everything away. He heard her feet hit the floor softly and the door open. “I’ll talk to you later, Jason.”

Later that night Jason laid staring at the ceiling as his mind kept going back to what happened at the club. She stuck up for him, and that alone put a smile on his face. He sat up at the sound of a soft knock brow slightly raised as to who it could be. The door opened on its own and he was glad to see who it was. Familiar h/c showed itself before the beautiful hue of e/c eyes locked onto his. She waved, fully entering the darkroom.

He heard the soft click of the door being shut and the bed shift a moment later indicating that she was now on the bed with him. She laid beside him, arm resting her head as she looked up at the ceiling seeming to be lost in thought. A moment later she turned to him, arm now propped up to rest her head on.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you freaking out but I’m going to be gone for a month.”

A month? That was far too long for him to possibly handle and it was far too long to not see her again. Sure, she’d probably call him and sure she’d be back, but a month was a month and the world was dangerous.

“Do you have to go?” The question seemed to catch her off guard but her confused face was quickly replaced with a warm smile.

“Of course, I do. Bruce said it was important and with everyone else being busy I was the best one to go. Besides, I’m a kick-ass type of gal. I'll probably be home in no time. They won’t even see it comin.” He could tell she was trying to lighten up the mood, but his mind did the only thing it usually did. It went into overthinking. Of course, she was well trained, hell they all were trained by the Bat, but there was still something, not even she could stop or predict.

“Are you going alone?” He asked her as she nodded her head. Another jab to his poor heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of her going into a mission alone and especially for a month.

“Don’t go worrying about me now,” The playful tone that came from her almost had him calm down, but it was his wandering thoughts that had his anxiety slowly climb back at him. “Jason, I’ve been doing this for so long now. Not only did Bruce train me, but I had others to train me as well. Please don’t stress out about this.”

Of course, he knew that, he also knew she came back with cuts and bruises that killed him but he kept his mouth shut about it. He sighed, one that she, unfortunately, heard and he received a sad smile. He watched as she laid down fully on the bed, the moonlight showing enough of her face to make his heart beat faster with each second.

“I might just fall asleep in here.” He heard her giggle and he wondered if she was being serious. If she was, he wanted to just hold her for the night and maybe convince her to give the job to someone else. Soon enough he heard the soft snore coming from her, a childish smile filling his face in a matter of seconds as he soon found himself falling asleep beside her.

That morning he made sure to wake up early, slipping from the bed and quickly getting changed so he could talk to Bruce. Finding the man wasn’t hard, he sat in his office typing away on his computer when Jason knocked harshly on the door successfully gaining the attention of the man.

“Jason?” Bruce asked, confused to see his son, “Everything alright?”

Jason cleared his throat as he walked in, hands going to fiddle with each other as he tried to think of how to form his words. He wanted to yell at Bruce for throwing her into this alone, but he knew Bruce well enough.

“I want to join her.” His words were quick and it caught not only Bruce off guard but Jason as well.

“Jason, she’ll be fine.” Bruce sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Bruce stared deeply into Jason’s blue eyes, the two males seeming to be firm in what they wanted. “I understand you’re worried about her; I do. The other boys were the same when she got sent off before on her own. I trust her, you should trust me.”

The pleading look on Jason’s face was quick to be replaced with bouts of anger. Trust him? Jason trusted that man for months to save him from the Joker. Months of torture. Months of starvation. Months of hoping, wishing the man he had called his father would save him. There was no trust when it came down to Bruce Wayne.

“Are you kidding?” Jason couldn’t help but scoff. Bruce had seen the anger slowly rising in Jason but said nothing. “You want me to trust you? That’s cute coming from the man who left me to suffer!”

“Jason-”

“No! You don’t get to say anything, Bruce! The trust I had in you died years ago. It died when I continued-”

“What’s going on here?” A voice. A voice so sweet and pure spoke calming Jason down in seconds. “Is everything ok? I heard yelling.”

“Everything is fine Y/N,” Bruce spoke before Jason. That caused a flash of red to be seen from Jason. Before he could react however a hand was placed softly on his shoulder. He watched as a soft smile formed on her face.

“Good. I was just preparing to head out.” He watched as she looked away from him and to the man he desperately wanted to put into a coffin. “Bruce, are you ready to head down now? You said the Batwing will get me there in time for the party.”

Jason watched as Bruce nodded his head standing from his desk. He watched as she waved goodbye. And that’s when the silence and loneliness took him.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since she left. Two long and painful weeks for Jason. He couldn’t bring himself to leave his room. Only for food and for patrol. He felt like he lost a part of himself even when he knew deep down, she didn’t love him like he loved her. But god did those two weeks feel like hell. Those two weeks felt like a year had gone by and he’d have to wait another 3 years to see her again. And that’s when the dread-filled him knowing there was more time to wait.

While those two weeks felt long for Jason others could say those two weeks felt like one. The sun and moon did as they should. The clocks hit 12 am and 12 pm as always. People woke up for work and went to sleep. Life moved on and didn’t seem to bat an eye at Jason’s dismay. At Jason’s heartbreak.

He missed how her laugh always made him feel like home even when the situation was bad. Or how her smile eased all the stress away from him in just a few seconds. He was aware of how hard he had fallen and he would no longer deny the feelings. The feelings that had often brought doubt.

He wasn’t good for her. He could never be good for her. He was a broken man in a shell that was left cracked and thrown away. Any good in him dying when Joker beat him until he felt like death. He was a murder. Not someone who took men down to send them away to a jail cell. No, he sent them to their grave.

But of course, Jason always had that feeling, that she’d see through any part of him that was bad. Maybe she could be the change he needed. Maybe she could be that person that made him feel whole again. He needed that. He oh so desperately did.

His bike came to a stop beside the batmobile. His body was sore, aching with every little move. Gotham was hell, it always was. Even when he was dead the crime never went down, it went up. All because Batman thought jail would teach thugs to stop committing every crime in the book. He could scoff at that.

His helmet was the first thing that came off. Finally, he could breathe. As much as he was used to the mask, it still often felt suffocating. Now more than ever. Breathe Todd-

“Master Todd?” Alfred’s voice nearly startled him. Jason watched as Alfred stood there his arms behind his back. “I’d like to hope you have no injuries I need to look at.”

“No Alfred. I’m fine.” Jason uttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Jason!” Blue eyes snapped towards the voice that came from the infirmary. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of her. She looked worse for wear, but it was her.

“Miss Y/N!” Jason could’ve sworn Alfred would’ve blown a vessel at how angry he looked. “Back to bed right now before you make a foolish move and pull apart your stitches!” She didn’t listen to the older man, rather limping towards Jason. Carefully she threw her arms around him.

Jason was surprised. He wasn’t expecting her to go against Alfred’s words just to give him a simple hug. But this hug just like any other took his breath away. He felt warm, and now she was safely washed away any stress he had deeply buried deep within him. He felt her pull away knowing Alfred was giving her a scolding look.

“Jesus. What happened to you?” His heart swelled doing another once over.

“I can easily say multiple things.” Her hands left his own as she limped back towards the infirmary. He followed behind after a few seconds of ignoring the way Alfred glared at her. She hissed, holding her side. Alfred merely shook his head knowing she did indeed pull her stitches apart. “Glad to see me?” Her tone was soft but it held a slight tease. Yeah, he was glad to see her. But not like this. Not the way she pulled up her shirt just enough to allow Alfred to fix her stitches that showed him other things that practically stabbed his heart.

Cuts, black, and blues, everything littered her chest. She winced as the needle cut through her skin, her bloodied hand turning into a fist. “Jesus Alfred that hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but if you would’ve listened to me, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“What happened?” Jason wanted to know, even if he knew he’d see red and have a murderous intent for whoever out there. She laughed nearly softly as she and Alfred held a look. A look that maybe Jason didn’t want to know. “Please.”

“Bruce sent me after Scarecrow.” Blue eyes that once held sadness now widened with anger. Scarecrow? “Everything was going fine. He was right there. I guess Scarecrow made some last-minute changes because about two weeks in I ran into Bane. That fucker wouldn’t back down. I’m so surprised he didn’t break all the bones in my body.”

“Bane’s back?” Jason asked, nearly shocked. He as well as Bruce knew about Bane’s disappearance. While Bruce hoped for the best, he also knew Bruce kept a watch on everything.

“unfortunately so, Master Todd.” Alfred’s voice was soft as he pulled down her shirt. “Tell him what else happened dear.”

“Out of all the time I worked for Batman I never thought I’d run into Killer Croc. That mother fucker was even more terrifying than the pictures. Bane threw my half unconscious body into a sewer system after an explosion that left me dazed and with a rod stuck in my stomach,” She paused watching Jason’s face contort into something she couldn’t tell. “Anyways I could barely walk. The pain I felt trying to take that damn rod out was unbelievable. My legs hurt, I was dizzy and practically accepting death at that point. I had called in and started to say where I was until Croc came out. I was so shocked I couldn’t even hear Bruce yelling at me.

"Croc charged me. I had some sort of strength to dodge it, but I knew that fucker wouldn’t stop until I was his meal. I was practically begging Bruce to get his ass here and save me. First Bane, now Croc? There was no way in hell I’d take Croc down with how much energy Bane took from me. I couldn’t fight back, so I ran. I ran and ran trying to figure out what to do. I remembered Bruce gave me this thing. It was a small device that if I threw it anywhere the electricity would be strong enough to take anyone out. And I mean anyone. I had one shot. So I turned around accepting that if I died, I would’ve died knowing you, and if I lived, well you know. I threw it. It landed right on the bastard just as he took a swipe at me. My body hit the wall and that’s all I remembered.”

“Jesus Christ-” Jason’s hand ran over his face in anger. Bruce. “Where is Bruce?”

“He’s taking care of what she couldn’t,” Alfred answered for her. “Now we should let her rest.”

Jason stood ready to head back to his room to sulk and hate Bruce even more until a hand wrapped around his wrist. He glanced back; brow raised.

“Stay?” The one word had him frozen. Why would she want him to stay? He probably wouldn’t be any good company. All he does is just sit in his room and practically sulk at things. Dick would be- “Please Jay?” She paused again thinking for a moment, “I mean you don’t have to-”

“Ok.” He didn’t miss the smile that stretched on her face. She watched him take a seat beside her.

“Jay?” He hummed, “Remember last year?”

She watched as Jason tried to think. Last year? So much happened throughout his entire life it felt like he stopped trying to remember what month it was at this point. He thought for another moment before he turned to her with a questioning brow.

“Last Halloween.” That word had his shoulders fall. How couldn’t he remember that Halloween? It’s how he met her. How he put a gun to her head for working with Batman. He was ready to pull the trigger. Just to piss Batman off. Just to have Batman feel the pain he felt. He couldn’t look away from where he started, unable to look her in the eye. He felt sick with himself. How could she even want to be with a man who almost took her life? To even want to talk to him was surprising on its own. “I didn’t see a killer; I saw a broken man that night. Even when you held that gun up to me, I knew you were hesitant.”

He still remained silent, this time gripping the handles of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white. He took deep breaths feeling the tears quickly rush to his eyes. She never brought up Halloween since they met, but he knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Was this her way of telling him she wanted nothing to do with him? To make him feel even more shitty?

“Jay, I never hated you.” Her voice was so soft. “I couldn’t hate you. You could beat me, betray me, do whatever, and I still couldn’t find it in me to hate someone like you.”

Jason couldn’t help the tears that came out. She should hate him. If he was in her situation, he’d want to be far away from the monster he was.

“Please look at me.” The simple plea had him look up at her, silent tears streaming down his face. Her hand was quick to wipe away the tears that were flowing down his face. “Please forgive yourself, Jason. I know you don’t talk about it, but I see you blaming yourself constantly.”

“I almost killed you. I-I had Scarecrow inject you with fear-”

“I don’t care.” Her smile was soft but it held meaning. “I knew what I was walking into that night. Bruce told me so many times to stay out of it, but he also knew I was so damn stubborn. When you found me asking for my help to save Bruce, I knew something within you changed. We saved him, just seconds before his identity was revealed to the world. You watched as I threw myself into danger. All the while you didn’t even know my true identity. You worked beside me with ease.”

Jason remembered everything. At the time when he found her, she was knocking out some Penguin thug. He was hesitant to ask for her help. He didn’t know her or how Bruce dragged her into this, but he knew that going after Scarecrow alone would lead to things out of his control. So he asked her. She was wary at first, he couldn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

“Forgive yourself, Todd.” She lightly punched his arm. The two allowed the silence to fill the room. The silence was comfortable, just like that night in the library. Jason stayed silent watching as her eyes fell from the exhaustion. She was still beautiful regardless of all the bruises she had on her. Still the same Y/N he had grown so many feelings for. He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand, to caress her cheek. But he couldn’t even force his body to move one single muscle. It’s like it was trapped under some fairytale spell, and he hated that. He soon found his own eyes drifting shut from the sudden sleepiness that hit him. He didn’t care for he allowed the sleep to take over his body.

Days ticked by. The first went by quickly. Alfred made sure to keep an eye on her while Jason refused to leave her side. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was certainly glad she made it obvious she didn’t want to be alone. On the fourth day, Alfred allowed her to roam around the manor. He hated to admit how he deeply missed her, but if he admitted to such, she would most certainly find him weird.

His movements were slow as he heard the loud knocks echo throughout the manor with the slight “I’ll get it Alfred” coming from her. He watched from a safe distance as she took her time getting to the door. As much as she wouldn’t admit it, she was still very clearly in pain.

“Dick!” She sang out happily just as Jason’s heart sank. Why was he here?

“You’re lookin better, pretty bird.” Jason could only roll his eyes at Dick’s chipper voice. She moved out of the way revealing a smiling Dick with a thing of flowers. “I don’t usually do this with the others but since you’re my favorite dove I figured you could use the flowers.” Her smile was so bright as Dick did a cheesy bow offering her the flowers.

Jason hated how that earned a giggle from her as she grabbed them, smelling them with a satisfied sigh. He watched as the two disappeared chatting like old friends. He couldn’t hate Dick for this as much as he wanted to. He had known her longer than him. Hell, even his replacement did. He felt envious of that. He merely scoffed leaving to go back to his room where he stayed for the rest of the night.

He hated knowing Dick was staying there. That he was making her laugh along with his replacement. If he didn’t already want to snap Tim’s neck, he wanted to do it now more than ever. Fuck him. Fuck them both. Jason scoffed sitting at the edge of his bed, his head in his hands as his leg bounced up and down with anxiety. Why would he be jealous of them? They were the better children of Bruce Wayne. Especially Dick Grayson. Always the golden boy, always getting what he wanted.

“Knock knock.” He heard her voice clearly over the running thoughts. “I thought you ran off.” She giggled as he finally looked up. She looked better than before. The cuts and bruises cleared up perfectly.

“No.” His words were softly spoken as he eyed her with curiosity.

“Pauli’s diner just opened again,” She began moving into his room, flicking on the light as she did so. “Me, Dick, and Tim were going to go and I figured I should ask before I leave Gotham for a few weeks. My treat.”

“Leave?” He didn’t realize he said it aloud until she turned away from him with a rather guilty look resting on her face.

“Uh, yeah. Family problems.” He almost forgot that she wasn’t one of Bruce’s kids. Merely someone who helped fight the many crimes throughout Gotham. “I stayed in Gotham longer than I should’ve actually. Roughly three weeks.”

Jason hadn’t known that she had any family besides this one. The new information sunk deep and fast. All he could do was let out a soft “Oh.” Of course, he didn’t want her to leave. But he couldn’t find it in himself to voice the feelings that sat within himself. The feelings were so strong. Stronger than the want to kill Bruce Wayne on the night of Scarecrows attack. But Jason had been too far into denial that he could barely speak about feelings in general. He was a fool.

“So?” Her eyes locked onto blue ones with a brow raised in question.

That was all it took. She sat right beside him as Dick and Tim sat in front of the two. He couldn’t even focus on the story Dick was saying, for the booth was more interesting. Laughter rang out from his right, the same beautiful laugh he had known all too well. Her laugh. He had forgotten that the two were sharing a stupid milkshake. It had his heart shatter as his eyes watched oh so carefully when Dick grabbed some of the whipped cream and smeared it on her nose. She let out a sound of shock, then laughter soon joined in by his older brother. Jason had no right to be as upset as he was, but god could he not help the jealousy that was brewing.

“You dick,” She laughed, grabbing a napkin wiping her nose clean, opening her mouth to say something but her phone beat her before the words in her mouth did. “I gotta take this.” Her voice held sadness as Jason moved out of the way allowing her out. He watched as she answered, bringing the phone to her ear as she pushed the door to the entrance open.

“So?” Dick spoke once she was gone. Jason turned his attention back to his older brother with a brow raised in question. “When are you going to tell her?”

“What?” His heart began to race watching as Dick stared at him with the smuggest look. Tim shook his head staring at the ex-Robin with a hesitant frown. Tim always tried to survive the ice he was thrown on whenever it came down to Jason.

“What he means is we both know you have feelings for her.” Tim nearly wanted to die right then and there with the look Jason gave him. That stare could easily murder Tim and everyone else in that dinner.

“You two idiots don’t know anything.” Jason quickly dropped his clearing with a scoff and a quick sip from his drink. He knew the two of them probably knew it all. They were also trained by the world’s greatest detective after all. Dick had to know more than Tim, perhaps longer. Jason wasn’t in the mood to meet Tim right away knowing that even after what happened he still had resentment towards the third Robin. Jason always felt so disposable, and he hated that. He hated having to fake being on good terms with this replacement to make her happy.

Dick gave a halfhearted shrug. His smirk was so small but even Jason could see it as he took a rather annoying sip of his milkshake.

“Stop staring at me like that or you’ll be going home with your heart in that cup.” His threat only received a hearty laugh from Dick.

“Ok little bro,” Jason’s eyes nearly widened at the old nickname.

“I gotta go.” She spoke almost startling Jason out of his deep thoughts. “Stay safe guys.” She waved to Dick and Tim leaving Jason with a soft kiss on his cheek. His cheeks were almost on fire at the small gesture. He decided to ignore that laugh that came from Dick. Just this once he’d keep his mouth shut.

Time ticked by slowly without her. It felt like a million years since he last saw her, but he figured that this was the feeling when someone you loved and cared for so much left so fast. He felt so lonely. At least when she left the first time he knew when she’d come back. Now he was left alone and in the dark. No texts, no calls, nothing. He hated how he felt like he was suffocating watching as the days ticked into weeks, then into months with no word. He should move on. Four months with nothing left a hole in his heart, but he’d have to move on.

After half a year he grew tired of waiting. He left the manor with nothing more than a duffle bag of clothing and enough cash to get his own place. So many sleepless nights. So much doubt and self-hate. Did he do something? No, he couldn’t have. He wanted the girl that sat beside him to shut up. But she didn’t. Another drunken girl trying to have a night out to do whatever. His blue eyes eyed her up, but not in a way she’d want, but she was too drunk to care. Her lust-filled eyes eyed him hungrily. It disgusted him. So why did he bring her back to his place? Why did he allow her to sleep almost soundlessly beside him? He couldn’t sleep. It felt wrong. Just as wrong as it did any other time, he brought a girl back to his place.

He sat up just as the sun started making itself known in the sky. He felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, and he hated it.

“Come back to bed.” He couldn’t find it within himself to care when she gasped as he threw her arms off of him. The night before was a mistake, just like it always would be when he brought a girl back to his shitty apartment. “You still miss her, don’t you?”

“You don’t know me.” He merely hissed at the unnamed girl.

“Yeah, you’re right about that. But I also know when I came in last night you didn’t give me your all.” She spoke up getting dressed. She spared him one look of pity before she left. Then just like before his walls broke down at the front door shut. He was angry with himself. Angry that he was so foolish to allow a girl to catch his heart so damn easily she was practically his lifeline at this point and he was dying without her. Half a year with nothing. He was riding on the false hope that she’d come back to him.

A year finally hit. He grew tired of waiting. Nothing. He even reached out to Dick but he said the same thing. Nothing. Jason was tired of breaking things, tired of everything. The cigarette tasted amazing as the Gotham breeze blew the smoke away. The night had been calm. So he allowed himself to relax. The highest building in Gotham was where he sat, his helmet sitting beside him almost long forgotten. The fall was steep, but this wasn’t his first rodeo. He was used to this by now.

“I thought smoking was bad for you.” A lighthearted laugh had the cigarette he held in his hand fall to its death. He knew that laugh. “Hey, stranger.”

He wanted to desperately think this was a dream. That Scarecrow broke out and was attacking him with his fear toxin. He hated how he looked back seeing her. The girl he was so hungover about. She looked as beautiful as ever even with her uniform on.

“Fuck you.” He spoke before he even realized it. She didn’t even look surprised; her shoulders didn’t fall and she didn’t even dare to speak. “A year with no contact and all I get is a stupid fucking "Hey stranger?” Really? I was worried about you! I was losing my fucking mind!“

She remained silent, eyes now staring at the ground thinking over his words. He wanted to know what she was thinking, what she had been up to for so long. Twelve months. Twelve fucking months of nothing drove him up the wall. Her silence was eating away at his nerves. He hated it.

"Please, say something. Tell me this isn’t some fucked up dream.”

“I’m sorry Jay,” She began finally looking at him, “My mom was sick. I spent four months taking care of her until she passed away. I tried everything. I did everything I could to keep the only person in my family alive. I reached out to some pretty bad people so I had to hide. I was in too deep. I was in way over my head. God, it was horrible.”

She took a moment to collect herself. He watched her carefully take off her mask so she could show him all the emotions she could.

“I couldn’t come back to Gotham. I knew they were watching me. I cut ties with everyone, not just you. Jason I really fucked up. Worse than I ever did-”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“I couldn’t!” She cried. “They were threatening everyone I cared for. They said they would have you dead before the end of the night! I couldn’t even ask Bruce for help! I-I don’t even know if I’m clear yet.”

This time he remained silent allowing the words to sink in. He turned his back to her sitting back down at the ledge. Just a moment later she sat down next to him watching the Gotham night just below her.

“Please don’t leave again,” His voice had been so soft as his hand reached out to hold hers. She glanced down watching as their hands met for the first time in a year.

“If I do something, promise you won’t be mad?”

“If it’s you leaving-” His words were swallowed when her lips met his. His heart nearly stopped. Her lips were soft, but they felt like heaven against his. He brought her closer to him, holding her close. This, this was love. And Jason would be damned if he ever had to give it up.

[secretagent9]

You are in all of the OMORI Ao3 comments section! So tell us! Top 3-5 fics you've read!

oH NO I'VE BEEN FOUND OUT. lol, I wouldn't say that I'm in all of them, but—oh god, don't make me choose between my favorites, I've got way too many agsdhjaklakl

in no particular order (heads up, these are mostly sunnflower fics):

Flower Language by mirror_to_the_past

Follows a delinquentesque Basil as he endures shitty high school life and has an all-around terrible time until he meets Sunny and friends in an alt. universe. Doubles as a fantastic character analysis (and Basil's grandma has such a strong presence in it, too, it's great), but if you've ever read any of mirror's work, you won't be surprised. I always love their characterizations of Basil and Sunny and how they write their relationship!

sunflower seeds in the rear view mirror by andrewwtca

PURE POETRY. Like seriously. Sunny and Basil go on a road trip to try and start over, after the events of canon. Feelings are acknowledged, fears are re-discovered. It's cute and sweet and romantic (when things are going well, which isn't always), and written beautifully! Don't always trust Sunny's POV, though, his head likes messing with him (and us, by extension).

the telltale of a recovering melomaniac by saturdayssundae

This one's less sunnflower-focused than the others, but still great! A pretty grounded take on the events immediately following the true/good end of the game, picking up right where it leaves off at the hospital. Also has one of the best takes on Sunny's mom that I've ever read in any fic, in that she's given a lot of depth and treated as someone who's struggling just as much as Sunny is; their interactions (and attempts at reconnecting as mother and son) are honestly the best parts of it.

Their Time by ShardofHope

Pain. Agony, even. It's real fuckin' dark and heavy, but the premise is too interesting for me not to include it, here, and I've genuinely loved it (though I haven't finished it, just yet). Sunny yeets himself off the hospital roof and dies, but Death comes to him and tells him that he'll give him a second chance at life. Maybe. Probably. First, though, he gets to go to the future and see what all his friends' lives are like, after his death. Spoiler, they're all fucking terrible.

Bloom Later by withereddahlia

A sequel to another fic about Sunny and Basil being roommates in college. Very good, very gay. They're fixing their relationship and getting better, in general, one step at a time (and Basil's recently started accepting his feelings, so all of Sunny's hard work and persistence has finally paid off! WOOHOO!) This one's felt a lot like a tv drama I tune into every other week, to see how much better (or worse) the relationship's gotten; the slowest of slow burns, yet it's kept me invested for so long that I have to praise it, lol. Really, though, it's a wonderful read!

In Which Sunny Is Bad At Naming Things by Prince_Enby

Ok so you said 3-5 fics but I didn't want this to just be The Sunnflower Rec List, so I added an honorable mention. A chatfic that introduced me to chatfics, about the Faraway Friends and all that they get up to together, post-canon. When it isn't fucking hilarious with its dialogue, it's incredibly sweet and wholesome (and the serious moments hit like sacks of bricks when you aren't prepared for them, which is never). If you told me that it was all canon, I'd believe you, because it really feels like it with how spot-on all the characters are.

speaking of "damn this feels canon", there was another one that I wanted to include, a big one by tsukithewolf, but I can't remember its name and don't feel like searching through my ao3 history. it's pretty easy to find, though; a nice, long post-canon fic about the gang making new memories together. definitely give it a read, if you haven't! it gave me some good closure after finishing the game itself.

there're honestly more I could recommend (and I love talking about this stuff), but I'll leave it here for now with this handful, so this doesn't get too long, lol. thanks so much for the ask!

[legendsofentity]

@donnas-troia thanks for the tag 💕 sorry i forgot about this until yesterday lol

my 5 fave fics that i wrote:

1. a heart to love, a heart to break (titans, donna/dawn)

this is my longest story with the most chapters i've ever written for a fic and it's still ongoing. plus it's angst with the slowest fucking burn ever too, which is just how i like my ships lol

donna and dawn would literally make the best couple idk why the writers are sleeping on them someone's gotta let them know ok

honestly since i've been writing this story for like a year now, it feels like it's a part of my life (even if i'm not very good at giving it consistent updates sorry) also it feels like my own safe wonderdove bubble that i've used since S2 ended and wonderdove became my otp on titans and nope that hasn't changed one bit. whenever i'm writing this story, it feels like i get so wrapped up in it that i forget about the harsh canon/reality for a moment.

2. a bed for two (the boys, frenchie/kimiko)

i love the fluff and domestic elements i incorporated into this fic. something about the simplicity of this story's settings really speaks to me, and i got to look up a few french sayings and dishes to add into the fic too haha

the twist at the end with the bed was something i had planned from the beginning, and idk why but i felt so smug and cheeky writing that last part (kinda like kimiko was in this story when she finally revealed it to frenchie lmao)

3. you are my heart, just like i am yours (the boys, frenchie/kimiko)

usually, my writing involves angst and/or fluff but they don't usually get dark. THIS one was the first time i brought it to a very dark place. thankfully, i couldn't bring myself to set it into the reality of the fic, which is why most of this fic was a nightmare sequence.

kimiko wakes up at the end, frenchie's okay, close snuggles and vows to not let anything happen to him... that calmed me down after i wrote a sweet ending to this story lol

4. too close for comfort (legends of tomorrow, zari/ray)

this was the first fic i ever wrote for my first otp. so of course this is a nostalgia thing for me haha

i still remember the day i published the first chapter of this... and it got kudos and comments... i mean, it was my first time, so i felt unbelievably confident-- hell, i felt fucking invincible lol. obviously, that was before i learned about the ship wars and how things can be taken out of perspective that offend so many people, and yup my confidence (along with my self esteem) are back to relatively low levels lol

still, even though i like to think my writing has improved over the few years i've been on ao3, i always come back to this every once in a while and go "...hey, this wasn't as bad as i remember"

it's got angst, fluff ending, crying, worry, and a dragon. enough said XD

5. all i want for christmas is you (cloak and dagger, tyrone/tandy)

the only christmas fic i've written so far. and yes it was published a few days after christmas, my bad lol

this is essentially the whole christmas fluff package for tyrandy-- snacks, movies, a small hotel room with a bed for two, snowing outside, exchanging gifts, morning snuggles, plus a tiny pinch of angst because i can't help myself haha. also the show was cancelled 2 months prior to this, so writing this helped heal my tyrandy heart a little.

alrighty you're up 💕✨

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97

@wilder-fangirl

@theheroofhorseshoebay

@bestavengerromanova

[slaviceddie]

Wow, I can't believe you get to read &tfat for the first time in one sitting. Bro I've been on the train for two years now. YEARS. Truly the slowest slow burn I have ever experienced since The Life And Times, and now its literally surpassed. This fic...... Is so laid back and hilarious and realistic and filled with so much thought and care....... Damn. Truly, a losers fic. Capturing the REAL dumbassery of young adults today.

it's really good!! what also makes it fun is seeing how fandom perceived things pre-chapter two since i tend not to read fic written before 2019 bc of reasons. but yeah just about everything about this fic reads like a callout directed at me and my friends, specifically circa 2014, so 'contemporary gay dumbassery handled with care' is an extremely fair assessment

edit: waIT did you just. the life and times? as in TLAT? as in the james/lily fic that didnt even have canon r/s and yet i read it with religious fervor? THAT life and times? haven't heard that name in years.....

[noyzinerd]

Gorgeous imagery (describing kaleidoscopic colors dancing on bubble skin, ugh, ohmygod)

The most realistic denial/breakdown I've ever read

I know people say it alot without actually meaning it, but I literally, and I cannot emphasize this enough--LITERALLY, cried for-real liquid tears with my shoulders hitching with sobs. I had to actually stop reading to turn over onto my other side because the nostril of the side I was laying on got clogged from my gross crying, making it hard to breathe. My eyes are literally still tacky as I write this.

Anyone who knows me will know that I don't seek out AUs. If I read an AU it better be worth my fucking time, not just some run on the mill, average stuff. This world is so subtle but fleshed out, it honestly feels like canon but "what if the supernatural was known". It's literally a retelling of seasons 1-3 but in a world where there are government agencies/advocacy groups/conventions/etc. for supernatural races (and, yes, Erica and Boyd are still alive). A few of the canon events up to 3B still play out. Also, the soulmate indicators in this aren't visible indicators (like words on your wrist or seeing color for the first time or anything). Soulmates in this world are usually more common in werewolves, having a soulmate isn't necessarily either common place or rare, werewolves are more likely to feel some sort of reaction to meeting their soulmate (like a jolt to the heart) while humans might not know at all. In this fic, Derek instantly realizes Stiles is his soulmate and tries to hide it from Stiles because (1) Stiles doesn't feel the same way and (2) Stiles is perfect and deserves someone equally perfect who isn't a fuck up like Derek.

I love that you don't see that gross simp/incel/neckbeard/'nice guy' trope where the guy is only being nice because they hope to get laid or feel like they have a say in someone else's life because "I know I could treat you better". Derek in this (and arguably Stiles, too, as you find out) is so sincere in wanting Stiles to be happy, even if it's not with him. He doesn't get possessive and angry when Stiles gets attention from other people. Despite being jealous, Derek pushes Stiles to find someone and supports his relationships. He doesn't just do things because he's hoping that "one day he'll finally notice how great I'd be for him". Derek legitimately sees a smile on Stiles' face and goes "I will do everything in my power to keep him this happy forever", even when it aches inside him to remain only friends, because he knows that's what Stiles needs more than anything. Derek's love for Stiles is so selfless, he is willing to destroy himself to make sure Stiles feels beautiful, unconditionally supported, and deserving of good things, while making sure to carefully hide how much of a toll it really takes on Derek so as to not make Stiles feel bad or uncomfortable.

This fic felt so personally written for me and my needs and what I personally look for in a fic that, tragically, I don't think this is for everyone. This is the absolute slowest of slow burns (yet it still remains constantly moving forward without stalling). Like this story spans close to two years. Believe me, the build up is worth it, but this is definitely not for impatient types. (There are some other minor things that might not be everyone's cup of tea, like it only being rated mature or the downplay/exclusion of certain characters, but I still highly recommend giving it a chance before dismissing it completely.)

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

(67k later, it’s finally dooooone!)

[yeehawbisexualold]

I'm feeling so sad right now and I keep crying. Emma Swan is the best character I've even know. I love your fics but I need more so I was hoping you could rec me some of your favorite, long captain swan fics. Thanks, I hope you feel better soon.

I could go on for hours about how much I love Emma Swan and how devastated I am but I’m sure that’s not what you’re here for so yay!! fic recs!!!!

First of all, if you haven’t read Light of All Lights by @ripplestitchskein , what are you doing w your life?? It’s Dark Swan and Deckhand Hook and it’s so beautifully heartbreaking and so wonderfully smutty and so gloriously glorious. Seriously, it is one of the best works of fiction (fan or other) I have ever read so do yourself a favor and read it. 107k words. Rated E

This next one might be my all-time favorite CS fic. I’m like a puzzle (but all of my pieces are jagged) by @somanyfandomssolittletime. A friends to lovers hockey AU w an integrated NHL. This one’s a little bittersweet for me rn because the Blues just got knocked out of the playoffs. I’ve read this one more times than I can count. It’s a blessing and I’m actually about to go read it again. 18k words. Rated M

Harbor in the Temptest by @acrobat-elle is a Neverland canon divergence and who doesn’t love a good Neverland fic? This one’s a bit of an emotional doozy, let me tell ya, but it is so so worth it. 18k words. Rated T also by @acrobat-elle Breathless a post-Underworld fic in which Emma and Killian come back sharing more than just a heart. Idk what’s more intense the feelings or the smut. 31k words. Rated E

Love, Kindness, and Other Useless Things by @joneskillian is a thing of beauty. A historical AU set in 1815 and the slowest of burns. Emma works for Killian, taking care of his lovely daughter Grace. This one’s a wip and it’s like the highlight of my day when I get the notification saying it’s been updated.

Talking Body by @killians-dimples is another fic that I’ve read too many times. Rockstar AU, guitar player Killian Jones is in love w his media agent Emma Swan. BED SHARING!! and dry humping, god bless. Her writing is a breath of fresh air and I guarantee you will be satisfied and your spirits will be lifted upon reading any of her fics. 10k words. Rated M

@nowforruin is a multi-chapter Goddess. She has written soooo many of my favorite AUs. I honestly don’t know where this fandom would be w out her fics. To name a few of my favorites, Dropping Anchor a broke, both in heart and finances, Emma returns home. Her mother gets her a job working for the Jones’. 37k words. Not Rated. The Trouble With Faking It A fake dating AU and by golly is it beautiful. Emma is hired by Regina to date Movie Star Killian Jones to clean up his image and help him land a role. 124k words (YEAH BUDDY) Rated E. A Change in Wind I can’t even form words for how great this baby is so just read it. 65k words. Rated M.

Lonely Hearts Club by @niniadepapa. If you want to read something just absolutely adorable and lovely, an AU in which Killian starts conversing with a random stranger through messages written on a table at Granny’s. Two guesses as to who the stranger is. 16k words. Rated T

Strangeness & Charm by @bluestoplights. OK first of all, I just wanna give this girl a shout out because back in the day when I was still a mostly Hunger Games blog, I watched OUAT but didn’t blog about it, and I followed her for Veronica Mars and it was basically her Captain Swan blogging that made me want to join this fandom so kudos to you for giving me the love of my life. This fic is probably the longest on this list and every single moment of it is spectacular. Pirate Captain Killian Jones and Savior Emma Swan unite to liberate the kingdom. 243k words. Rated M. Also, give her 1989 fics a try, Wonderland is probably my fave.

Something About December by @high-seas-swan is a 12 Days of Christmas fic in which Killian gifts Emma something new every day leading up to Christmas. And it has a bunch of flashbacks throughout their relationship. Beautifully fluffy, A+ and I’m not just saying this because it was my CSSS gift from her. 7k words. Rated T.

Lastly for this list, Her Crowning Glory by @captainnagata a Princess Diariesish AU in which Emma Swan has to find a husband or else lose her crown to Killian Jones. Beautifully written and tons of fun. 66k words. Rated T.

I just want to thank every person on the list for bringing such beautiful content to such a beautiful fandom. Shipping Captain Swan would not be the same w out you guys. ♥

[songforeddiemunson]

These are my favorite fics. I'm sure I'm going to miss a TON, but my favorites are (in no particular order):

1. Too Long in the Midnight Sea by @eravanaaaah. (WIP) This fic is still ongoing and it is the slowest of angsty, beautiful burns. It's Mechanic!Eddie x OC and it starts a year and a half after the events of S4. It's so, so good. Everyone should read it. I'm instantly transported into the world Jax created the moment I start reading a new chapter, and it's a delight. Read the one-shots too.

2. World''s Apart by @munsons-maiden. (Complete) You want to talk about slow burns? Holy moly. This fic clocks in at close to 350k words I think...I could be off, but it's a literal novel. It takes place in the past and the "present," the present being during the events of S4. It's an Eddie x cheerleader!reader fix-it fic and is one of the best things I have ever read in the 11 years I've been on this hellsite. Essential reading, and Kiki is also one of the loveliest people in this fandom.

3. the Super Freak series by @punk-in-docs. (WIP) What started as a one-shot has become eight (long!) incredible chapters and counting. Eddie x reader. Libby's fics are delicious and evocative, and I recommend the stuff she has written for Joe's other characters as well. I also really love her Prince Paul stuff, which was a surprise since he's such a bitchy little brat on the show, but she has given him some much needed depth, and quite a libido. 😈

4. June Baby by @luveline so far it's just four (long!) chapters of tooth-rotting adorableness, and I hope there will be more. The writing is as close to perfect as anyone can get, the threads are woven so skillfully, and whenever I start a new chapter I am done for. It's Eddie x young mom!reader. Jade also has some of the best damn one-shots I have ever read; give Something Extra a look, but turn off distractions because it is probably the hottest smut ever written.

5. Shameless plug for my own little series, Panic in Detroit. (Complete) Bartender!Eddie x reader. Reader is fleeing a hard life and meets a handsome stranger with demons of his own. Coworker-to-friends-to-lovers. Slowish burn, lots of action. Check it out, with my thanks. 😉

There are so many more incredible writers on this site, I want to celebrate them and give them gentle smooches and soft blankets and mugs of warm cocoa. They are keeping me sane (or either perpetuating my unhingedness, depending on who you ask). Thanks, I hope you enjoy!

i need long read friends to lovers fics of eddie/joe!! any recommendations

[izzisanauthor]

I've never written a slow-burn story in my life, but you better believe I'm gonna write a Brightwell fanfic with the slowest burn ever.

I can not believe I'm saying this, but they better slow burn the fuck out of Malcolm and Dani. Seeing everything grow just feels so good. Plus, the later it happens, the better chance of happiness they get.