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arcanemoody · 4 years

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Gotham Secret Santa

Title: Songbook

Author: arcanemoody Tags: Season 5, post-S05E07: Ace Chemicals, Bickering Like an Old Married Couple, Referenced Past Trauma, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, 78prm, Happy Ending Summary: Whatever Ed needs, he can have. Oswald isn’t sure how he can make that any clearer.

For @ckatattack for the @gotham-secret-santa. I hope you like it!

Oswald sorted bolts at his ally’s behest. He helped push the tables together in the library, cleared the combined space so that his partner could work on the engine of the submarine while maintaining a clear view of each schematic. All while humming to himself and emptying boxes of scrap on the side table designated for his work; filing bolts, screws, and other detritus into separate piles and compartments for easy retrieval.

Contrary to the accusations Edward liked to throw at him, he hadn’t intended for his old friend and enemy to be doing the majority of the work -- conceptualizing, working from schematics, redesigning schematics. Oswald himself found none of this intuitive, and had hoped by making himself scarce, Ed's progress could continue uninterrupted. His 10th-grade shop teacher had said once, with a screwdriver in his hand, Oswald Cobblepot was essentially a gremlin. He couldn’t even wire a lamp from a kit; couldn’t sand or carve the blocks used to make a simple standing clock. And his lack of technical acumen was matched only by his inability to commit to physical labor. A submarine was seriously outside his expertise. Seeing to their cargo and procuring the niceties and basic needs his colleague eschewed in favor of managing his labor was much more his speed. He checked on (and added to) their pile of treasure. He made sure Ed had decent food and untainted water. He sorted bolts. He worked very, very hard to tamp down any indignity he felt in each task.

"Are you humming Dinah Shore?"

It took a moment for him to realize that Ed was addressing him. "What?"

"That song. What are you humming?"

Oswald shook his head, slightly dazed. "I-I don't know. It's just something I remembered… maybe from one of my mother’s records? Put it in a box, tie it with a ribbon—'

“...would surely fill the deep blue sea,” Ed finished in his gentle tenor. “That's Dinah Shore.”

“Is it?” Oswald shrugged. “Huh. Well, if you're that desperate for me to not sing it, I think I must have the actual record somewhere.” Ed’s brow furrowed.

“78RPM? Red label? Columbia logo?”

“I think so.”

“That‘s my record, Oswald!” he shouted, taking a large step forward.

His brain froze up in the way it tended to do nowadays any time Ed leveled an accusation at him, grappling with whether it was warranted and whether the vehemence required a match in tone. This did not. He took a deep breath.

“Technically speaking, it’s my record. I bought it.”

“Yeah, along with the rest of my records, my books and my clothes,” Ed shot back. “Well, excuse me for wanting you to feel at home when you got out of Arkham!”

The lot at the police auction had been purchased through an intermediary -- the same intermediary that made a hefty donation to the policemen's union under the name of the Van Dahl living trust. Oswald had known that if the GCPD had felt free enough to use his name to trap Edward into a confession, they would probably be vindictive enough to refuse his name on a purchase order.

"And anyway, since you left them all at the manor, I'd say that still makes them mine.”

“Technically speaking,” he replied, mimicking Oswald’s earlier tone. “I didn't leave.” “You certainly weren't living there when I got back!” The air in the house had been stale the day he and Fries forced the front door open. Only the kitchen had maintained its normal, spotless, lived-in atmosphere, due to Olga’s continued employment, salary operating on an automatic deposit. The rest had fallen into a cluttered disrepair that illustrated the descent of Riddler’s madness.

“I wasn't not living there.”

“Of course not. You were on the run. Well, you were 'not living there' just enough that I gave Ivy your room.'

“No you didn’t.” Ed’s statement was dismissive rather than outraged. Not an accusation; a fact. Confirming that he had evidence to back up his claim.

“How do you know?” Oswald asked, curious.

“Because when I went there in March, my room was as I left it.”

March.

Two months before Sofia had been taken out for good.

When Riddler had broken him out of Arkham, the purple panel coat with the fur trimmed collar (flattened now and in desperate need of dry cleaning) had been slung across the passenger seat of the truck. The coat he had left in Ed’s apartment after Galavan’s murder, the coat he’d subsequently gotten back after the GCPD delivered the lot from the auction. He had been too preoccupied at the time to question its presence or how Ed might have retrieved it when Oswald himself had changed the locks a year earlier.

“You broke into my house!” “It was hardly breaking in — the windows weren’t even locked,” he paused at Oswald’s shocked expression. “I never did it when you were home. Just after you were arrested and, later, when you were squatting at Falcone’s place.”

“Right, because that makes it better! What were you even doing there?”’

“Looking for my things, mainly. I wore the same suit for months and it wasn’t like I had a lot of loose change to throw around, even with Lee’s help.” “So you turned to house breaking. How clever of you.”

“One house. And I didn’t take anything that wasn’t already mine.”

‘Just as before.’ Oswald flinched at the thought, turned away. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, refrained from upturning the table with all of the bolts he’d sorted. One could afford to pick one’s battles during a long-form escape attempt. .

“Well you can go back for your precious record collection any time you like! If the front door is still on the hinges, I’ll even loan you my key.”

Said key disappeared from his keyring two days later, around the time Oswald found the library work space empty.

-- He did not turn up to sort bolts, shuffle schematics or retrieve provisions for Edward the next day.

Or the next day.

He arranged trades. He drank wine on Barbara’s sofa, listening to her talk through the physical transformations of her second trimester and Lee Thompkins’ warnings about high heels being a fall risk and, therefore, a risk to the fetus.

“As if I would ever fall,” she scoffed.

He refrained from stating the obvious, pouring himself another glass to avoid grinding his teeth.

On the third day, he turned up to an empty room. He sat waiting in the empty library long into the evening. The sun was setting, filling the room with an orange glow when a member of his security team turned up, an anxious expression on their face.

“Boss.”

“Where is he?”

-- First Bank of Gotham. A historic granite and lime building measuring half a city block on the edge of the industrial sector on the north side.

The Court of Owls had done a good job of hiding their centuries-worth of dirty work in plain sight. Post-No Man’s Land “restructuring,“ the alley where he and Edward had made their bloody escape two years earlier was on the edge of Firefly’s territory, frequently disputed by Fries’ minions staking a claim. The odds had been in Firefly’s favor recently and Bridgit, to Oswald’s surprise, allowed him to pass through with barely a nod of encouragement.

“String Bean entered through the southwest staircase. My scouts say he’s been there a while,” she lifted her mask, giving him a pointed stare. “You’ve got an hour, Pengy.”

Oswald nodded, leaving his guards under his former housemate’s watchful eye (and flamethrower). This was Firefly being sentimental. He knew it wouldn’t last long if they overstayed their welcome.

There were more stairs than he remembered. Each floor opened onto a circular hall of doors with the door knobs either broken or missing, papers and files scattered, the mundane facade of an centuries-old evil organization that still needed three floors of pencil pushers to move their assets and occasionally serve as cannon fodder. Oswald remembered their holding cells being on the sixth floor, close to the roof. The trip to the ground level had been a whirlwind of improvised carnage -- guards, personnel, people in uniforms, people in office wear, he and Ed and tore through everyone on their way out, before crashing onto the pavement outside, covered in the blood of violent rebirth.

He found Edward on the fourth floor, door ajar on what had once been a holding area, dilapidated desks and disabled security gates, loose wires where key panel locks had once been. Long legs folded into a too small office chair, eyes downcast, his friend’s visage brought a lump to his throat.

“Reliving old memories?” Oswald asked, annoyed even as the fear and agony he’d been holding in check all day melted from him.

Ed didn’t look up.

“Edward?”

Another long moment passed before he finally spoke.

“I found my overcoat,” he said, gesturing at the pile of green plaid slung over the crook of one arm and draped over his lap. Nearly two years in dark storage, no doubt covered in mildew, dust mites, and other unspeakable things.

“Were you looking for that recently?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought about it, or this place in quite some time. I was looking for scrap steel for the outer panels, maybe some extra supplies... I took a notion once I realized where I was. Have I been gone long?”

“Six hours.” Eight, though Ed didn’t need to know just how early Oswald had turned up to the library.

“I couldn’t find any of your stuff. Or anything that looked like it might be yours. Sorry.”

Oswald did his best to contain his reaction, that Ed had done something thoughtful. For his sake. He winced against the ripple of familiar warmth, butterflies. Things he could not afford in the midst of a long-form escape attempt.

“It doesn’t matter. Are you ready to go now?”

Ed nodded, walking half a step behind as they descended back down the stairs.

“How long were you their prisoner?” He asked, after they had crossed the perimeter, doubling back twice to avoid whatever shadows Ed seemed positive were following them. The sun had long since set and what little light they had was from the security teams flanking them, throwing long shadows on the broken pavement.

“Before you arrived?” Ed shrugged. “A few weeks maybe? I was interrogated before they put me in the cage. It was difficult to keep track but not impossible. It wasn’t like Arkham -- their objectives involved keeping me alive. Though what keeping me alive meant in a city they wanted to destroy is anybody’s guess.”

Probably holding his sage intellect in storage for future endeavors, as Barbara had. Oswald felt angry on his old friend’s behalf as well as himself. He hadn’t been interrogated -- just sedated, stripped, and thrown in a cell. For the formerly missing mayor of the city, it was beyond insulting.

Ed wasn’t finished.

“They gave me haloperidol so they could question me. That was bad. I was still detoxing at first -- that was worse.”

“From what?”

“Amphetamines, mostly. And whatever psychotropics Tabitha gave me. Withdrawal symptoms ideally shouldn’t last as long as those did. I tapered off to avoid complications with my heart muscle, adrenal glands...”

Oswald held his breath.

Following Riddler’s progress after his death had been difficult from the distance of Ivy’s greenhouse hideaway in Bludhaven. Even after returning home, tracking headlines and articles stopped at a certain date, bleeding into coverage of the mayor’s disappearance. One of those articles included a grainy shot of Ed leaving a press conference at city hall, face a mask of composure, but for the downward cast of distressed brown eyes in rubbed gray newsprint.

He knew Ed had tripled his original kill count in less than two months. And that he’d kept the authorities on the run right up until Jim Gordon decided handing him over to a cabal with designs on child abduction and mass murder was a charming notion. That Ed himself had crossed that threshold virtually without a fight.

“...why?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Uppers tends to do that--”

“I didn’t want to sleep,” his tone took on a sharp edge and he was glaring at Oswald again. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me. You know exactly how long I was there. You went to Jim first. You always go to him first.”

That jab… felt oddly personal. Oswald wondered what he was missing in that accusation— the narrowed gaze and the resentful pinch to his mouth. Never mind that Jim Gordon was the one who arrested and subsequently reported the “Riddler’s” escape and Ed, a forensic investigator, should have known the importance of following clues.

“If I could gauge what Jim knew, I had a bead on what the rest of the GCPD knew and I could plan accordingly. So, yes, I went to him. And he lied to me and I knew it -- just like I always know when he lies to me. The man has a terrible poker face.”

“So do you.”

“So stop playing with me,” he said, choking up. Having his own methods questioned was galling. And it wasn’t as though his talent for shallow subterfuge hadn’t fooled him once— back when Ed cared about him and a blind spot was established. Memories that brought a salty weighty to the back of his throat and behind his eyes. “Did you even find out ‘who runs Gotham?’”

The question was flippant, almost cruel. Ed’s answer was not.

“That and more,” he replied, somber, almost pensive; enough to deflate Oswald’s ire.

“Well. Good for you, then.”

“There are things they told me,” he said, serious now, neither chiding nor angry. “...I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

Oswald kept his eyes on the dark path ahead, tried not to think about what could be worse to talk about than his anguish over the deaths at Haven or the almost blissful oblivion of his first murders. A distant part of his brain reminded him that it could be still another play, but he had seen Ed devastated enough over time to recognize truth from fiction.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Things that involve you.”

“I understand. Save it if you want, Ed. You can tell me whenever you want to or hang onto it forever. I don’t care.”

The walk back to the library seemed longer than before. Oswald was surprised that Ed continued to shadow him even as the streets (what had once been streets) diverged and he headed in the direction of city hall.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not capable of scaring me!” he said. Patently untrue and Ed knew it, too. “Anyway, I thought you might have gone to the manor.”

“I tried that first,” he replied, producing his keyring from the pocket on his boilersuit. “Yesterday.”

“And?”

“I want to say the front door is still on the hinges, but I couldn’t get more than a few yards away to look. Nature seems to have taken back a good portion of your father’’s estate and... some of it was not happy to find me there.”

“Ivy. Well, it’s good to hear that she's kept up her hobbies,” he laughed, breathlessly. Guilt was rare and pulsed dully in the same pained spot in his stomach where heartbreak loved to dwell. The teenage plant maven had kept Oswald company when he had wanted no one near him and he’d rewarded her generosity of spirit with contempt and vitriol. Forgiveness was, as ever, too high a price to ask for. He’d have to settle for just knowing she was alive.

“Hang on to the key, anyway. We may need it eventually.”

If they ever went back (and if Ivy killed him on sight), Ed would still need to get inside the house.

—

After the bolts and the sonar, after Penn’s arrival and subsequent dispatch, aborted departures and new arrivals and scrambling to recover what they could from the bottom of the river, they managed to fight through the vegetation and rehome the manor.

Oswald arrived with lunch one afternoon and found a 78rpm in a battered paper sleeve on the dining room table. He reached out to touch it, wondering briefly if it was a trick of his remaining eye.

“Ed?” he called out.

“I found your record,” Ed said, closer than he’d initially guessed, initially in his blind spot and then moving over to his left side. No longer disputing ownership. “Not here. It turns out the library’s music archives weren’t completely depleted.”

Oswald smiled, turning the record over, noting the red label, the Columbia logo.

“Do we still have a working turntable?”

Ed smiled, amused, offered an arm to guide him.

“Back here.”

It took more than a few breaths to blow the dust off both record and player, more than a few minutes to turn the crank on his father’s old gramophone without overwinding, and finding the appropriate place to drop the needle. The voice that warbled out was familiar in a way that conjured images of his mother’s living room, frying onions in the kitchen, the sharp bite of paprika and heavy salt in the air… none of which echoed Ed’s place in his mind.

“This isn’t Dinah Shore.”

“No, it’s Doris Day,” he replied, a hint of amusement breaking through what, no doubt, had to be a heavy sense of injustice (Ed’s impeccable brain turning on him yet again). “I got the song and the label right but the vocalist wrong. Such an obvious detail to miss.”

Oswald shook his head, reaching out to take his partner’s other arm, squeezing lightly.

“It’s an easy mistake,” he replied, his non-bandaged eye focused on his dearest friend’s shifting expression; dark eyes misty, a hint of a smile. “No worries, my friend.”

Oswald watched Ed swallow, feeling an answering squeeze on his arm. The two of them leaned against each other, swaying, almost in a dance. Oswald hummed. -- A/N: The song Oswald sings is “Put ‘Em in a Box, Tie ‘Em With a Ribbon,” sung by Doris Day. Ed’s thinking of “Love That Boy” sung by Dinah Shore (and actually misremembers it with a lyric from “Mad About Him, Sad Without Him”). Both were released by Columbia in 1947, Doris is singing about taking romance and chucking it in the river, while Dinah is still in the bloom of loving someone from afar, alternately delighted and miserable.

#gotham secret santa #nygmobblepot #my writing #my fic #happy solstice

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hotshepherd · 5 years

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Got some space for more?

This is my first Omelia one-shot. I know ts pretty short but I just wanted to write something. Note that my English isn't the best but this is for all the Omelia fans out there. Don't forget to comment on what I can do better the next time. 💕

"Ok look, I've got an idea!!" "Oh please, no. Last time our kitchen ended up on fire."

Owen’s pov

I woke up to the alarm ringing in the morning and I shut it off as fast as I could, to not wake Amelia up. She loves her sleep and I knew that if she woke up to the alarm she would be in a bad mood all day. I look at my side and I see her still peacefully sleeping, lying like a fetus. I take in her cuteness and kiss her cheek carefully not to wake her up. I and Amelia are only friends fostering two kids but I can’t stop myself from thinking that we could be something more than that. But right now its how it is. Everything between us is finally good now and I don’t wanna ruin it again. I take a last glance at her before carefully and quietly get out of bed. I go to Betty’s room and wake her up because she has school today. I tell her good morning and leave the room so she can get ready. I walk into the kitchen and start making coffee for both me and Amelia, for when she wakes up. I walk to Leo’s room and I see him standing up in his crib, fully awake. I give him a smile.

“Morning, Buddy,” I tell him and lift him up into my arms and he starts bouncing, which I know means he wants Amelia. “Let’s go wake Amelia up, shall we?” I say and start walking back to mine and Amelia’s room. I sit on my side of the bed and let Leo crawl to the sleeping Amelia. Leo puts his head on the pillow next to Amelia’s head and starts giggling. I mimic Leo and lay down on the bed and put my head on my pillow.

I watch Amelia wake up and she smiles when she sees Leo and god that smile makes me fall in love with her even more. Her smile is one of the things I love about her since Leo and Betty came into our lives. That smile of hers show so much love, that’s indescribable. A love of a mother I would say. I watch Amelia take Leo and give him a hug and they both look so happy. I can definitely see myself waking up to this every morning.

“Got space for one more?” Betty asks standing at the end of the bed.

“Of course!” I move more to the edge so betty can lie in the middle. She smiles at me and climbs to the middle.

“I love you all, even if you both are old and dorky,” Betty says and both I and Amelia look at her and smile.

“We love you too Betty,” Amelia says and strokes Betty’s hair with one hand while holding Leo with the other. I smile and kisses Betty’s head. She looks at me and smiles and I smile back and hug her. I look up and see Leo having his head on Amelia’s chest and Amelia smiling at me and Betty.

“Family hug!” Amelia yells and hugs betty and Leo and I put my arm around Amelia. Leo starts giggling and then we all start laughing.

We lay there for a few more minutes then we, sadly, had to get up to get ready. I and Betty go to the kitchen, while Amelia and Leo get ready. Betty goes and sits around the table and I open the fridge and its almost empty. There is nothing we could eat for breakfast. I close the fridge and I look at betty and it’s like she already knows.

“AGAIN?!” Betty says and I don’t know what to say. This is the third time it’s happened since they moved in. I was supposed to be grocery shopping yesterday but I forgot. AGAIN. I open the fridge again trying to think of something we could eat and once again I come to no conclusion. Closing the fridge again, Amelia walks in fully dressed with a fully dressed Leo in her arms. Amelia looks at Betty and then at me and then at Betty again.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?” she asks and I look at Betty shaking my head but she only ignored me, looking at Amelia.

“Owen forgot grocery shopping again,” She says and Amelia turns to face me and I just shake my shoulder and put my sorry face on. Amelia shakes her head and puts Leo in his high chair and opens the fridge to look for herself. We all are quiet and the only sound is coming from Leo who is talking to himself, in baby language. Amelia closes the fridge, ignoring me, and starts opening cabinets looking for something. She suddenly stops and looks at me.

“Ok look, I've got an idea!!” She says. I and Betty shake our heads.

“Oh please, no. Last time our kitchen ended up on fire.” I say and Amelia gives me a death glare.

“Like you have a better idea, Owen,” She says and takes out some stuff from the cabinet and some milk and butter from the fridge.

“Fine, but you’re not doing this alone,” I say and see her roll her eyes thinking I wouldn’t see that. “So what are we making?” I ask Amelia.

“Pancakes” She answers and I nod my head and toghether we both make pancakes. I didn’t let her bake thems since she would only burn them or worse burn the house down.

Later that night when I come home from work, with groceries, the house is dark and quiet. I put the groceries where they belong. I go back to mine and Amlias room and I see that she’s still up, on her phone.

“Hey!” She says and smiles.

“Hey,” I say and changes to my pajamas in front of her. It was normal for us to do that but tonight felt different. I go to bed and lie down on my back.

“Hard day?” She asks and I nod. I lost two out of three patients today. I turn to my side and watch Amelia looking at me.

“You’re staring,” I say and she smiles and blushes a little.

“You are too,” She says and I smile and take one of her hands in mine.

“How was your day?” I ask.

“It was good. I think I really might like someone”

“OOh... Who? Do I know him?” I ask curiously. We never talked about dating other people. I’m not jealous I’m just curious and also I need to make sure she doesn’t get heartbroken.

“You might know him. He has blue eyes and a lot of muscles and he has this amazing ginger hair and best of all, he’s very hot, especially while changing. He is also a very good dad, who sometimes forgets to buy groceries,” She says smiling at me. I play with her hand, not knowing what to say.

“Why? Why now?” I ask and she knows what I’m talking about. I don’t look at her I only look at her small hand in mine.

“Because I love you, Owen. This family that we have is real. You and me we could work.” She says and I look up and into her eyes.

“Why did you change your mind?”

“I don’t know.” She says and I take a deep breath. I don’t want to be together with her if she doesn’t even know why.

“Well maybe you should figure that out first,” I tell her and she just looks at me then slowly turns to her other side, facing the wall. “Goodnight,” I tell her and carefully put a kiss on her head, like every night. I turned my back too so my back was against hers. I have always wanted to be with her since the day I met her but now? I still wanna be with her but only if she is 100% in this. Because if something would have to happen I wouldn’t want her to regret her decision.

Amelia’s pov

I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Owen said. I try to figure out why I wanna do this but I have nothing good to say. How do I tell him I realized that he is the only man I want to be with forever? It does not sound like me. I decide on telling him that. He is the love of my life and fostering Betty and Leo made me realize that he is the man I want to have children with. Raise children with. Have by my side through everything. The good and the bad. Because he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

After I decide on telling him that. I close my eyes to try and fall asleep but I can’t. For some reason, the bed feels uncomfortable. I take a fast look at Owens’s sleeping form next to me and I slowly and quietly leave the bed to go to sleep on the couch. I walk to the living room and take the blanket on the edge of the couch and put it on top of me and my arm under my head. I close my eyes, trying to sleep, and when I almost fell asleep owen woke me up. I opened my eyes and he kneels in front of me and looks me in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He says before continuing, “Just come back to the bed, please,” He says and tilts his head a little.

“I- It is more comfortable here on the couch,” I tell him in all honestly.

“Are you sure? The couch can be very uncomfortable after a while. Trust me I know” He says and I sit up, sitting crosslegged. I cup his face in my hands.

“I can’t sleep knowing that you don’t know that I love you with every inch of me. I realized that raising betty and Leo with you made me wonder about our kids. I want to have kids with you Owen. I want to raise our kids with you and it didn’t come randomly to me. I knew I wanted that before and yes I got scared and ran away but this time I’m not gonna do that. I’m gonna stay. And I want you with me through everything. Good and bad. In sickness and in health. Like we promised each other on our wedding day. I made a mistake leaving you and I know that now. I want you, Owen. I want only you. You are the love of my life.” I say while looking into his eyes. I feel a tear and I wipe it away fast because I don’t wanna cry. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just looking at me. I try to read his face but I can’t.

As I remove my hands from his face, he grabs my arms and kisses me. Its a simple kiss but it was filled with so much love. I put my arms around his neck and he wraps his hands around my waist and as we pull away to take a breath our foreheads meet and we look at each other in the eyes. I smile and hug him tightly. He hugs me back as tight. I take a deep breath, taking in his scent and I kiss his cheek and then he stands up slowly while hugging me and carries me. I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts walking back to our room. He puts me down carefully and then lies next to me and wraps his arms around me and kisses my head multiple times.

We don’t say anything, but we don’t need to. We both know what we want and what we want is this. The relationship. The kids. The family. Everything. We both fall asleep after a while, in each other’s arms.

#omelia #omeliafanfics #fanfic #greys anatomy #amelia shepherd #owen hunt #betty nelson #leo hunt

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years

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I’m Coming Home

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst and fluff. I swear it has a fluffy ending. Little bit of smut, mentioned abortion idea.

Word Count: 3,433

Bingo Box: FWB Relationship

A/N: This is my first entry for @marvelfluffbingo. Be gentle, I’m still learning Tom’s personality!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If someone had told you four years prior that you would spend your thirty-fifth birthday walking into your divorce attorney’s office eight months pregnant with your two year old daughter, Nova’s hand gripped in yours, you would have told them they were out of their minds; that you were never getting married nor having children. Had they told you that you would be divorcing your best friend that day, you probably would have contemplated murder.

Had they told you and you knew they would be right… you would have never gotten drunk for your thirty first birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s the birthday girl!” Tom Hiddleston called out loudly as you walked into your favorite pub. “Oh! Wait, is that a little grey I see?”

“Hey!” You shouted over the laughter of your group of friends as you whacked your best friend’s hand. “I’m not going grey, jerk.”

“Whatever you say.” He laughed as he pulled you in for a hug. “Happy birthday, darling.” You smiled genuinely as he kissed your cheek and subtly rested his chin on your shoulder for a hair longer than necessary.

“You coming over again tonight?” He nodded his head as he pulled back to share you with the rest of the group and gave you a knowing smirk.

“Oh, you know it, darling.” You kissed his cheek and turned toward your friend, Matt as he handed you a beer.

——

Clothing hit the floor, piece by piece, as the pair of you drunkenly stumbled into your apartment later that night. Your friends with benefits relationship with the steadily increasingly famous actor had been going on smoothly for the past three years after a drunken night celebrating the end of one of his stage plays. You loved him and he loved you but with all the traveling he did with work and the traveling you did for work as a translator, neither of you wanted or needed anything steady. This arrangement was perfect.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy, woman.” Tom growled as he practically threw you onto your bed. You smirked as the pair of you ripped off your clothes at light speed.

“That’s my job, baby.” You teased as he crawled up the bed between your legs. He wasted no time slamming into you to the hilt. Your back arched into him as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“God, I love your pussy, (Y/N).” He growled as he rocked his hips to bury himself as deeply as possible.

“Claim it, Tom. Let the whole neighborhood know who it belongs to.” He smiled wickedly down at you as you both wrapped each other in your arms.

“Oh, they already know when I’m in town… your cunt is mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The one thing you were grateful to your parents for was them forcing you into boarding school as a child and making you take as many foreign language classes they could get you in to. At thirty one years old, you spoke six fluently and a seventh was almost there as well. You mainly found yourself in various places in Europe, translating for tourists for different tours… or translating for those unfortunate tourists that found themselves in the hands of foreign governments.

“He says he had no knowledge that taking the stones from the fountain was illegal.” You said in Portuguese as you swallowed back the taste of bile in the back of your throat. “He is willing to pay the fine and return the rocks.”

“Those rocks are sacred.” The police officer you were speaking to snapped as he glared at the man. You nodded your head and held up your hand at the tourist to keep him calm.

“I understand that, sir. Believe me, we are both aware. It was simply a mis…” You swallowed again and shook your head the slightest bit as the officer glanced over at you. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Are you alright?” You nodded your head and shifted your weight on your seat as you recrossed your ankles.

“I’m fine.” You said as you forced a smile on your face. “Now, can we please…?”

“Just let him go with a fine.” Another officer said as she walked into the room. She took one look at you and called you forward with a curl of her finger. You nodded and stood up from your chair as you glanced back at the tourist.

“They are letting you go with a fine. You can pay it when you leave here and they will give you an English copy of the ticket so you can read it. It’ll be under a hundred dollars and please… don’t take anything else. Leave nature where it’s supposed to be here.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You gave him a small nod and headed out of the room after the superior officer.

“Are you ill?” She asked as she looked at you. “Because you don't look it and if you’re not, I think your pregnant.” You sighed heavily as she voiced the one concern you had been trying to avoid thinking about for the past two weeks since you realized it yourself.

“Pregnant.” You responded. “Still debating what to do with it.” She nodded at you as she sat down at her desk and pulled out a desk drawer.

“Better think fast here, sugar.” She said as she wrote down a phone number from her cell phone. “The name of the guy who terminated mine.” You nodded at her as you took the card from her fingers.

“Thanks. Give me a call if you get anymore idiots.” You giggled as you gestured over your shoulder to the room you just came out of. She laughed and nodded as you turned on your heel and headed out of the police department.

——

You sat in the waiting room of the abortion clinic, bouncing your foot a mile a minute as you stared out the glass front door at the Thor movie poster on the building across the street. You had never intended on telling Tom about this pregnancy but apparently whatever God was watching over you had other plans. You knew if you went through with this your friendship was over; there is no way you’d be able to keep something like this from him. And to make such a radical decision without even speaking to him… it was one of the cruelest things you could do.

You didn’t know if he really wanted children, since he never really vocalized his opinion on it often. You knew it wasn’t something he wanted in the near future but it was possibly something he wanted one day. And the longer you sat, staring at his photo, the more you realized the opportunity you were taking from him without even giving him a chance. And the more you thought about how much your best friend may or may not want children, the more you realized you wanted them.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” You looked over at the nurse who stepped out of the back room and your stomach rolled.

“Um…” You muttered as you looked back at the movie poster across the way. With a shake of your head, you stood up and stepped toward the door. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” The nurse gave you a warm smile and nodded her head as you headed out the door without looking back. You pulled your cell phone out of your bag as you headed over to your rental car on suddenly shaky legs.

“Well, hello stranger.” Tom said when he picked up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you still in London?” You asked as you got into the driver seat and sat there for a moment.

“I am.” He replied and you could picture him nodding his head.

“Can you pick me up from the airport later? I’m gunna be flying in from Portugal and I’m headed to the airport now.”

“Shouldn’t be an issue. Just keep me posted on when you land, darling.” You nodded your head slowly as you looked between the clinic you just walked out of and the poster on the opposite wall.

“You got it!” You said with as much fake enthusiasm as you could muster as you laid your hand on your stomach. “See you soon.” Without waiting for a response, you hung up the phone and for the first time since you saw the two pink lines, you burst into tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How long have you known?” Tom shouted as he paced his living room.

“Five weeks.” His head whipped toward you as he came to a dead stop in front of where you were leaning against the wall by the door.

“And you didn’t think picking up the fucking phone…”

“I didn’t think, Tom!” You shrieked as you looked up from the floor. “I took the test in an airport bathroom and then jumped on a plane to Italy for work. You know how I process things, damn it.”

“So what, you just didn’t plan on telling me?” He snarked as he started pacing again.

“I didn’t plan on keeping it!” He actually tripped on the edge of the carpet and you grabbed his arm seconds before his face slammed into the wall. He looked up at you with tears in his blue eyes and you sighed audibly. “Sat there for almost two hours staring at you on a Thor poster across the street. I changed my mind, obviously.”

“(Y/N)…” You nodded your head as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a harsh hug. He let out a choked sob as you put your arms around his neck and your hands in his short, curly hair. “I…”

“I know.” You whispered as you rested your cheek on his shoulder and your forehead on his neck. A single tear fell on his skin as you nodded your head slowly. “I know.”

——

“It looks healthy.” Your OB-GYN said as she did an ultrasound of your thirteen week along fetus. “Perfect size, cute as a button.”

“You sure you’re ready for this?” You asked Tom for what felt like the millionth time. He nodded slowly with a giant, dimpled smile as he kept his eyes glued to the computer screen and held your hand tightly in his. He leaned forward on his elbows and brought your hands up to his lips.

“That’s our baby.” He said as the baby’s heartbeat filled the room. Tears filled his eyes and spilled over onto your hand as he placed gentle kisses on your knuckles. You nodded as you reached up your free hand and touched the screen.

“Our baby.” You whispered.

——

“We should get married.” Tom said matter of factly as he sat on your couch behind you while watching the new Thor movie he had gotten an early DVD of.

“Why?” You asked as he rubbed his hands over your small baby bump.

“Why not?” You moved your upper body to the side so you could turn to look at him.

“Are you out of your mind? We aren’t even dating!”

“So? We’ve been best friends for nearly half our lives and aren’t you supposed to marry your best friend?”

“Thomas, it doesn’t work like that.” You said as you turned back toward the TV. “Watch the damn movie. Propose to me after I push the watermelon out of my pussy. See if I still like you enough to be your friend after that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy!” Nova giggled as you stepped into your lawyer and friend, Matt’s office. You let go of your hand as your husband turned away from the two lawyers in the room to grab his little girl.

“Nova Lee! Oh, look how big you’ve gotten.” He grunted as he picked up his daughter and tossed her in the air. She laughed loudly as he caught her and pulled her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I miss you, daddy.” You forced yourself not to look at the reunion as Matt helped you sit down in one of the chairs at the table.

“You OK?” He asked softly as he gave you a bottle of water and took your purse and coat for you. You nodded at him slowly as Tom sat down beside you with Nova on his lap.

“How are you?” You looked over at him with a weak smile and nodded.

“I’m fine.” You said as you brushed your hand over you bump as your son wiggled to find a comfortable spot now that you’ve sat down. Tom watched your stomach ripple and his eyes teared over as he subtly gestured to you.

“Can…” You looked over at him as Matt and his lawyer got the divorce papers situated.

“He’s your son, too.” You responded as you looked away and moved your hands. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying as he reached over and set his large hand on your bump.

“Hello Milo.” He breathed as he choked back his tears. You barely glanced over at him for a second before his lawyer sat down and cleared his throat.

“Alright, let’s get started. We have a lot to go through.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you still wanna get married after witnessing child birth?” You joked as Tom held his baby girl for the first time. His smile grew impossibly larger as he walked in a slow, lazy circle in your hospital room.

“After witnessing that miracle… absolutely.” He looked up at you through his lashes as he changed direction and sat down beside your hip on the bed. “So? How ‘bout it love? We get married and be a real family.”

“Thomas…” He looked up at you with an award winning smile and you rolled your eyes. “Fine, you win.”

“I’ve been winning with my smile for years, love. You should know that by now.”

“Yea, and by the looks of it, our daughter got your smile as well so I’m doubly screwed.” He chuckled as he leaned forward and gave you a chaste kiss.

“You know we’re only eight years early on our pact anyways. So it honestly just saves us the hassle of waiting all alone.”

“God, you’re making me regret agreeing to this.” You laughed as you took your newborn baby girl from his arms. “Look at your daddy being mean to me, Nova Lee. He’s such a mean, mean man.”

“And yet you still love me.” You looked away from your daughter with a smile and nodded.

“And yet I still love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you ever think we’d actually do this?” Tom asked as you both laid in bed, watching a movie as you nursed on your wedding night.

“Never. Never in a million years.” You looked over at him as he casually dragged his fingertips up and down your bare thigh. “You know, I thought you were a pretentious asshole the first time I met you?”

“Well it’s better than what I thought of you.” He laughed as he glanced up at you. “Know it all Yank… ow!” You laughed softly as he rubbed his shoulder where you flicked him.

“Rude.” He chuckled as he scooted closer to your side, twisted, and rested his head on your stomach so he could look up at you and Nova. He reached up and gently took his daughters hand, smiling even more as she wrapped her tiny hand around his pointer finger.

“I’m so in love with her it hurts.” You nodded in agreement as he looked up at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thomas, she’s turning two. You have to be here for that.” You hissed into the phone as you tried to organize your daughter’s birthday party without your husband.

“I have to work, (Y/N).” He snapped on the other end. “How do you not understand that?”

“Oh, trust me. I do understand it.” You responded as you peeked into your living room at your daughter, who was peacefully watching Frozen for the millionth time. “I understand because all you seem to do anymore is remind me that your fucking movies are more important to your family!”

“Are you bloody daft, woman? My movies are what keep a fucking roof over your head!”

“Yea, a roof that you would rather die than be under most days.” You snapped back as you turned away from your daughter.

“That’s not true and you know it!” He replied. “I love coming home to my daughter…”

“Yea, just your daughter.” You said as tears welled in your eyes. “That’s the only reason you come home…”

“Yep, sure is.” He cut you off, angrily. “Fuck you, (Y/N). I gotta go.”

“Don’t you hang up on me.” You growled over the sound of the click of your phone and you tossed your cell onto the kitchen counter.

“Mommy?” You wiped away your angry tears and put a smile on your face as you turned around.

“What baby?”

“Can I has more juice?” You nodded your head as you took her cup from her and headed over to the fridge.

“Of course, baby girl. Anything for you.”

——

“Daddy!” You glanced over at the front door of your house just as Nova was jumping into her dad’s arms. Tears welled in your eyes and you turned back around to finish decorating the princess cake you had spent the last hour slaving over for her party that afternoon. After a few moments, Tom gently put his hands on your hips and stepped right up against your back.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he slid his hands around your waist to hug you. You nodded your head as silent tears fell from your eyes.

“I can’t keep doing this.” You whispered as you picked up the pastry bag of sky blue icing to write Nova’s name on the blue Frozen cake. “I’m… I’m filing…”

“Tomorrow, darling.” He said as his tears fell on your shoulder. “We’ll talk about it all tomorrow. Today’s our daughter’s birthday…”

“OK.” You said softly with a nod. You closed your eyes and tears slipped down your cheeks as he kissed your shoulder and tightened his arms around you.

“I will al… always… love you.” He breathed as he forced himself to pull away from you. “Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N), I need you to sign here.” Matt said again as he pointed to the line you needed to sign on the custody page of your divorce. You looked up at him and nodded as more tears fell from your eyes. Your hand shook as you signed your name and pushed the paper toward Tom. He signed below you quickly and looked up at the ceiling to keep his own tears back as Matt pushed the last page toward you.

“Last one.” He nearly whispered as he looked between his two best friends. You looked over at Tom at the same moment he looked over his sleeping daughter’s head at you.

“No.” He said simply as he reached out and grabbed the paper from you. “No, I can’t do it. We can’t…” You burst into tears of relief as he ripped the page in half and set it down on the table.

“Thank God.” Matt whispered as Tom got up from his chair and pulled yours to face him with one hand.

“Come home.” You choked as you pulled him and your daughter into a hug.

“I will. I promise I will, my love.” His lawyer said something about still getting paid as you sobbed into your husband’s shoulder and fisted his button down shirt in your hand. You didn’t hear Matt kick him out of his office as Tom ran his hand along your spine while repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

“I’m going to take some time off.” He promised as he sat back on his heels and cupped your jaw in his free hand. “When Milo’s born, we’ll go… we’ll just go and work on us. We’ll work this all out together… because I can’t lose my best friend.” You nodded your head and covered his hand with yours.

“I l-love you.” You breathed as you searched his eyes.

“I love you, too, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” You nodded as you grabbed his shirt, pulled him back into your arms, and covered your face with your hand. He buried his tear stained face in the dip of your neck and sobbed as he cradled his girl’s heads to his body. “I’m coming home.”

#Tom Hiddleston x Reader #I'm Coming Home #Marvelfluffbingo

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ticklishhpickle · 6 years

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Worth The Whisk (7/?)

Summary: When superhero Dan Howell gets paired up with fellow hero and arch nemesis Phil Lester for an important mission, he’s pissed beyond belief. But as the two are forced to work together to take down the evil Dr.Bickletwist, Dan finds Phil might not be as awful as he first thought…

Previous Chapter

Ao3 link

“Mate, you’ve got to be shitting me right now.” Dan deadpanned, looking at the old man with a look that would have made any sane person wither. The man just laughed.

“I am 100% serious right now, son. This is the only boat we’ve got left. We can give it a clean before you go, if that will make you feel better.” Dan turned his head to Phil, the withering look on his face slowly being replaced by one of mock enthusiasm. He shot finger guns at Phil purely because he knew it would make him cringe (and giggle).

“Well let’s get started then, shall we?”

Two hours.

It had taken them two bloody whole hours to scrub the entire canoe, stern to bow, of all residual mould, moss and… mice. Dan was bloody exhausted. He threw his lanky body onto the ground, moaning as he did so. Fisher Price simply burst into another fit of chuckles at this, not looking tired at all despite the laborious task they’d all just participated in.

Dan vaguely noticed the sound of lighter, youthful laughter and he cracked his eyes open. He didn’t even have time to react to being poked in the side before his hands were grasped by someone else’s and was gently pulled off the ground.

“Come on, Danny. There’s no time for rest when we have children to save!” The black-haired man exclaimed cheekily before plopping himself into the boat. Dan gave him one of his signature withering looks, but Phil was as unaffected as the old man was. Was Dan losing his edge?

Phil thanked Fisher for all his help, before asking him to detach the boat from the dock and to send them off on their merry way.

The boat rocked slightly as Dan rolled his long body into the canoe, cursing when his cape snagged on the dock. He stretched his legs out and realised that to sit in comfortably in this canoe, his feet would basically have to be tangled with Phil’s awkwardly. He cursed again, this time silently.

“Oh look at you two, all cuddled up! How adorable!” Fisher Price cackled, undoing the rope tethering the boat to the dock. Dan pursed his lips. Not this again.

“I’m sure you lovebirds will have a great time on your very private trip together. Snuggled up real nice on this boat.” Two oars were thrown at them which they barely caught. They looked at each other incredulously, then Fisher.

Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted to respond, and even if he had wanted to he had no idea how to. Despite his superior social skills, it seemed Phil didn’t either.

“Aha! That’s- that’s something! Thanks again for the help, Fisher!” Phil replied, voice an octave higher than usual. If Dan hadn’t been so caught up in his own feelings of awkwardness perhaps he may have noticed the blush that was dusting Phil’s cheeks.

Dan waved goodbye and mumbled in agreement, and with that, Dan gripped his oar tightly and rowed as hard as he could. He couldn’t risk hearing another suggestive comment from the eccentric fisherman.

His joints ached. His legs were numb. He felt like he was going to throw up.

“You know, Phil. It would be nice if you could get your foot out of my ass.” Dan snapped, wriggling to give himself more room but only succeeding in tipping the boat in the process.

“It’s not my fault the boat’s so small!” Phil squeaked out in defence, his bottom lip stuck out.

“Well it is your fault that we’re fucking failing this mission! We should have just busked again and gotten enough money to get a plane or something. Not just taken the first crummy boat we could find!”

“That is as much my fault as it is yours. Maybe you should have mentioned this earlier , instead of being a twat about it now.”

“Oo! A naughty word from such a pure man! Did something I say touch a nerve, ‘I-think-the-sun-shines-out-of-my-ass-man’?”

Phil gritted his teeth at this and gave Dan a look that would even have wilted Fisher Price.

“Dan. Shut up.”

“Oh what, like you did six years ago? Just started fucking ignoring me for no reason? There’s a thing called communication, Phil. Maybe you should learn it sometime.”

The boat rocked and Dan found himself clutching at the sides in desperation, scared of falling out. He looked to the horizon. There was nothing to be seen.

“Well I’m sorry I actually had social capabilities greater than that of a shoe and didn’t run away from basically everyone else at the academy.”

Dan’s jaw dropped at Phil’s words. He did not just say that. Tears welled at his eyes but Dan was quick to will them away. He wouldn’t let Phil see him like this. He was fine with Phil seeing him angry, but sad- that was something much more personal. Something Phil had lost the right to see the second he broke the best friendship Dan had ever had up.

How dare he? Phil fucking knew he got extremely anxious talking to new people, a problem he’d confided in Phil about in the days they were friends. And now Phil was using it against him.

He was brought back to his first day of superschool. Dan had been young. Twelve years old only, an actual fetus. Scared of practically everyone who wasn’t his big brother, the second he’d stepped into the academy he’d been shaking like a leaf, scared of the unknown.

“Mason, I’m scared.” He whined, nestling his head in his older brother’s embrace.

Dan had never felt particularly close to anyone in his family. No one except Mason. His dad was rarely there, seeming to be more interested in work than his own children. His mum had died when he was a small child, and as much as he hated it, he could barely remember anything about her.

Mason had always been amused, but supportive of Dan’s obsession with superheroes. And now he was the only one sending him off to superschool. As if his dad would care.

“Hey little dude, it will be okay. I have to go now, but you’re going to be the best superhero ever. I just know it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

And with that, Mason gently pulled him out of his embrace, smiled, and left him there in the Supernova Hero Academy. He was terrified.

His morning classes had passed rather slowly. He didn’t know anyone except the Ocean Liner, and even then they’d only met once for the admission interview. His familiarity with his trainer mostly resided in the fact that he was a huge fan of him, and had been following his work for years. Not actual personal contact or anything ridiculous like that.

Come lunchtime, Dan was sitting alone. That was no surprise. He’d always thought his real superpower was the ability to maintain superhuman levels of awkwardness in nearly every social situation.

He looked up from his sandwich (toasted with his own fire power) when he saw a kid about his age, black hair and glasses come sit next to him. The boy smiled.

“Hello, my nem’s Phil.” He said, sticking a hand out for Dan to shake. He has an accent, Dan noticed.

“Oh. H-hello.” Dan stuttered, looking at the boy with wide eyes before remembering to shake his hand.

“Are you alright? I noticed you looked upset during flying class.”

To say that he’d looked upset would be an understatement. Dan had been sobbing in the corner for most of the class, the Ocean Liner having to stop the class to calm him down. Dan would have liked to think that he was upset because he was bad at flying- but no, that wasn’t it. He was upset because it had felt just like the first day of primary school, where he found himself surrounded by strangers he had no idea how to talk to.

“I’m okay.” Dan lied, but his red eyes told a different story.

Phil seemed to contemplate something for a second, frowning a bit before he replied.

“Okay, but if you ever need to talk to someone I’m here, you know.”

Dan didn’t reply, but risked a peek at the boy’s face. His eyes were a brilliant blue, a hue so striking Dan could only compare it to that of the ocean. His large, but not jarringly so, nose was lightly dusted with freckles. They were so small you’d only be able to see them up close. His dark hair contrasted starkly with his pale complexion, and Dan felt himself grow calmer the more he looked at him.

“Thanks.”

Phil grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear. The blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he did so.

“You’re welcome. It’s Dan, right?”

“Fuck. You.” Dan gritted out, fists clenched so tightly around his oar he thought it would break.

Phil simply raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, daring Dan to react, to throw a hissy fit or something of the sort.

“How dare you throw that in my face? I had no fucking friends in primary school because I was too scared to talk to anyone, and you think it’s okay to just make fun of that, you fucking prick?”

Phil’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologise, but Dan wasn’t having any of it.

“I fucking hate you! You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay-”

“Dan-”

“Shut up! It’s time for me to talk, because according to you I haven’t done enough of that in my life! You ignorant piece of-

“DAN!”

“WHAT?”

“The boat’s on fire!” Phil said, and suddenly Dan noticed that despite the ghostly look of fear painted on Phil’s face, his complexion was red, too red- unhealthily so.

He looked to the left of Phil and his stomach dropped as he saw the bright flames of vermillion scorching the boat that seemed even more pathetic in comparison.

“Fuck! Look what you made me do!”

Dan growled, immediately extinguishing the flames he’d inadvertently caused. His face was bright crimson now, partly from anger, but mostly due to embarrassment. (Nothing to do with the fire- he was heat resistant, after all.) Phil probably thought he was even dumber than he actually was now.

He quickly checked the exterior, then the interior of the boat. Nothing seemed to be gravely burn, shockingly. He heaved a sigh of relief, before glancing sheepishly at Phil to check that he was okay. Even though he’d been an ass he didn’t want him burnt.

Phil was leaning floppily in the opposite corner of the boat, clearly out of breath from the inhalation of smoke. Dan’s stomach twisted in guilt, and as little as he wanted to talk to Phil right now he needed to make sure he was okay (for the sake of the mission, of course).

“You alright?” He said, anxiously scanning Phil’s body for any signs of injury. “Yeah. Don’t worry.” Phil said, not looking up from the bottom of the boat. His knees were huddled to his chest and his forehead was visibly sweating. Dan frowned at this, even if Phil wasn’t physically injured he was definitely shaken up. Unfortunately for them both, Dan was in no position to comfort him. Not with the fight they’d just had.

The air was thick with tension now, and not the good, sexual kind you read about in gay fanfictions. It was the awkward, terrible kind where everyone involved knew there were things yet to be resolved, that probably were never going to be.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dan wondered if Phil really meant to hurt Dan like he did. If he really hated Dan as much as he seemed to for the past six years. Or maybe it was just something angrily spewed out in the heat of the moment, a stupid thing he would regret for days, weeks, or even months to come. Dan prayed for the latter.

He saw no further point in overthinking, and tried his best to accept the fact that the person Phil was six years ago when they were actually friends was probably long gone.

He inhaled, exhaled then hesitantly turned his back from Phil. He was still mad, the fact he’d nearly burnt Phil to a crisp didn’t change that, as guilty as he felt about it. Dan picked his oar up once again, his hands now slightly blistered from how tight he’d been gripping it during the fight and continued rowing. This was going to be just super.

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akaashirabu · 7 years

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‘Are you my Dongsaeng?’ - BTS JK Pt. 2

Check out the first part here Pt. 1

Warning: Fetus BTS and EXO throughout the story because yeah this was old fanfiction.

It has been a month after the fan signing event where you first met Jungkook.

Although it has been a month you still can’t get over that moment and because of that certain moment you can’t get out of your mind, you instantly became a big fan of BTS.

“Well [Your name], I hope I’ll see you next time? Promise me?” The words Jungkook said still lingered in your mind like it was just yesterday.

To think of it, after that whole month you haven’t even seen Jungkook but anyways you promise him and you will never break that promise of course. You’ll wait for your exam week to end before you could go to a fan signing again or if ever go to their company to visit him, if that was even possible?

You remember when your brother, Baekhyun was teasing you about Jungkook.

“You know what? I should just go and contact Big Hit Entertainment so that you could meet that Jungkook guy, something like that. I don’t even know why you like him when he’s not even as handsome as me” Baekhyun said and you glared at him.

“Ignore your brother, he’s just jealous because his dongsaeng is already growing up and falling in love” Baekhyun’s girlfriend said as she gave him a whack on the head for teasing you.

“Who’s jealous? Not me” Baekhyun snorted and you rolled your eyes at him.

For a moment there, you became silent. “Am I really falling in love? Or have I fallen in love already? With whom? With Jungkook?” You thought but ignored it since you later on realized that if you really have fallen in love with Jungkook, does he feel the same way? Probably not and he might even forgot about you now. “Face it, you don’t have a chance since his a famous idol and you’re only a fan.” You said to yourself.

The next day was the last day of your exams and of course who wouldn’t be happy?

You decided to spend the rest of the day with Jiyul. You two celebrated the end of exams by going shopping at the mall. You’re not that fond of shopping but since it’s the only thing available for you to do today, so why not try? Ever since you were young Baekhyun was the one who likes shopping even though he was the guy but hey, shopping was fun and less boring ever since his girlfriend was there, so thank god she actually was there every time the siblings were going shopping even though the shopping was practically just for searching some good eyeliner for the couple.

After shopping with Jiyul, you hurriedly went home since you wanted to sleep early since tomorrow there will be a fund raising concert at your school. It was a tradition for Seoul High to have a fund raising concert after every exam, where music and dance students perform and sometimes even idols perform for the said event. You were ecstatic by the feeling you get that tomorrow would be an exciting and fun day, something you can enjoy a lot. When you were about to be on a deep slumber, your phoned beeped signalling a text message.

Goodnight, sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow my beautiful dongsaeng <3

-Unknown number

You wondered on whom the sender was, it wouldn’t be Baekhyun since you have his number saved or maybe he used one of his members’ phone but you also have their numbers saved on your phone too but anyways you forgot about the thing as soon as you felt sleepy already.

The Next day, you went to school with a very good mood. You greeted Jiyul with a wide smile.

“Jiyul-ah, Good Morning!” you beamed.

“What’s up with you?” she asked with a look.

“Nothing, I just feel like this is going to be a very nice day” you answered with a smile.

“Oh okay, come on let’s go the concert’s about to start and I heard there were Idols that were going to perform” she said and you nodded as you followed her behind.

As you arrived at the venue, the first performance by a bunch of music students was already starting and you both sat at the first row. A few more performances from the students were done and after that the MC gladly stood up on the stage as he was introducing the next one to perform.

“And now live on Seoul High’s stage we’ll have one of the successful Boy groups of this generation, EXO!” he said and all of the people cheered for EXO.

You rolled your eyes and thought that it should be Baekhyun who texted you last night and he didn’t even told you it was him and that he and EXO are going to perform for Seoul High’s fund raising concert.

As they performed Growl you earned multiple winks from your oppas from EXO, especially your stupid brother Byun Baekhyun and being the stubborn girl you are you only rolled your eyes at them.

Baekhyun was actually urging himself not to laugh as he saw her sister down there with those expressions. Oh you don’t even know what’s going to happen today dongsaeng-ah. Baekhyun thought.

After EXO’s performance you saw how Chanyeol, Baekhyun’s best friend was hysterically waving at you and you laughed a bit at how silly he was.

The MC was back at the stage saying that there would be another Idol group that are going to perform today. Wow, this year’s concert must be so special to have two Idol groups to perform. You thought.

“Please welcome the Best Rookie of the year, Bangtan Sonyeondan!” He said and your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you actually heard it.

You flinch on your seat when you actually saw them waking to stage and there he was, the one you’ve been wanting to see, Jeon Jungkook, that boy you adore the most

As you stared at them, you panicked when you actually caught his gaze, and you were positive that he actually smiled and sent you a wink before he went to his position for the choreography of NO.

When the song started, you felt like you are frozen on your seat and you didn’t know how to react. You notice that Jungkook was only staring at you as he performs and as if you were the only one in the audience to watch him perform.

As the song ended, you saw he smirk at you. That smirk of his, he’s more handsome than the last time I saw him. You thought.

Rap monster held the microphone and talked. “Everyone, our golden maknae has something to say” and after that Jungkook went to the middle to get the microphone. He gulped before he started to speak.

“Uhmm I’m actually nervous about this, but today we are going to perform another song. Not just an ordinary song but a special song for a special someone of mine who’s watching right now. Byun [Your name], I want you to listen carefully for every word I would sing for I meant every word of it” He said and shyly smiled as he looked straight at you.

You were now blushing as all of the eyes are on you. Jiyul was giggling a lot and even slaps your shoulder.

The song started and surprisingly, Jungkook was the only one left on the stage.

([A/N] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Ryqn-sMSY: click the link and listen to what Jungkook will sing to you)

Jungkook was singing, his eyes still plastered onto yours, he was rapping and singing his heart out. By what he said that he meant every word it actually true since you could really feel how sincere he was when he performed. At the last Chorus, Jungkook went down the stage and went up to you; he held your hand and you’re so close to each other and your faces were only inches away.

“You’ll be with me, with me yeah yeah” As he sang the last line and the song ended, you were left speechless. You two were still so close with each other and the people were all in awe and some were cheering for the both of you.

“[Your name], it’s nice to see you again” He said and attacked you with a bear hug.

You smiled as his scent lingered and you love it.

“Oppa, I-I mi-missed yo-you” You stuttered.

“I missed you too!” He said and hugged you more and he even lifted you up from the floor.

“Eventually you are the one who fulfilled my promise” you smiled at him.

“Come on let’s go somewhere private” he whispered.

You two went backstage.

“So uhmm what do you think?” He asked.

“Think of what?” you asked and tilted your head to the side.

“Uhmm about uhmm oh uhmm…Want some kookie?” Jungkook asked out of the blue.

You looked at him, confused “Huh? There you go again asking something out of the blue” You pouted at him.

He blushed as he thought of how cute you look. “I-I’m sorry…I’m just nervous…I… so uhmm you know...uhmm” Jungkook continued to stutter.

“So what?” you asked him as you lightly laughed.

“Do yo-you like me too? Because I really like you…I swear I really like you” he said.

“Pabo! Of course I like you too! I really do!” you said as you encircled your arms around his neck.

“So…Can you be my girlfriend? My dongsaeng girlfriend?” he asked and smirked at you.

“Hmmm…Oh-kaaay” you cutely said.

Jungkook widely smiled, lifted you up and spun you around while shouting ‘YES’.

You laughed as he put you down.

“[Your name], I love you” he whispered.

“I love you too Kookie” you whispered back.

Jungkook leaned on you, about to kiss you.

“YAAAAAAH NO KISSING!” You both heard Baekhyun screaming and looked at him as you two laugh.

“You! Kookie guy! Take care of my little sister okay? Or else you’re dead!” Baekhyun threatened with a serious look but his girlfriend came and pulled him with her “Ignore him guys, he’s being a jealous old man again” she said earning a girly whine from Baekhyun.

When Baekhyun and his girlfriend left, Jungkook looked at you again, leaned on and planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

After the innocent first kiss of yours and Jungkook, he smiled and remembered to ask you something.

“Did you receive my text last night?” he asked.

“Hmm? What text?”

“The Good night and see you tomorrow message with a heart on the end?” he said.

“Ohhh…. So you’re the anonymous sender?”

“Yep”

“Where did you get my number?” you asked him.

“Secret” he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Okay I’m not interested anyways” you said and rolled your eyes at him.

You both walk to where EXO and BTS at and started talking.

It turns out that Baekhyun was the one who gave your number to Jungkook and he was the one who indirectly told Jungkook that you liked him too. Well, look who’s being a fairy god mother after all; it’s your older Brother Byun Baekhyun. In the end you were still the perfect dongsaeng girlfriend for Jeon Jungkook.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #fanfiction #oneshot

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semisweetfics · 7 years

Text

Midnight Whisperings

This is based off a conversation i had while talking to Anne ( @pudgypatrick ) and figured why not write it?

Fluffy fetus Peterick (this is trash but thanks)

TW: light angst and fluff, warnings for depression/suicide mentions

The van wasn’t exactly the biggest place to sleep. Usually they rotated who drove and who slept. Tonight, it was Joe in the passenger, Andy driving, and Pete and Patrick in the back.

Drives after shows were always the quietest. They were exhausted and gross and just wanted to get to the next stop and a shower. It was a rule not to wake anyone up unless necessary. Which is why when someone softly prodded his shoulder Patrick shot up, confused and nearly headbutting the person leaning beside him.

“Sorry!” Pete whispered loudly, crouching beside him. Patrick glared at him.

“Why’d you wake me up?”

Pete looked down at his hands, suddenly very quiet and not like himself. “Can’t sleep Tricky.. Nightmares.. It’s been bad for days.” Patrick nodded in understanding. Pete had explained to him before about the nightmares and the insomnia, but this was his first time ever coming to him about it.

“How can I help,” Patrick asked, scooting into a more comfortable position. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he looked over at Pete. The bassist looked confused and shocked but happy.

“Can I just.. Can I just sleep with you? I know you don’t like me being all clingy but..” Patrick rolled his eyes and unzipped his sleeping back, allowing Pete to curl up close to him. Patrick carefully zipped it back up, ignoring how their knees and chests were touching, and instead focused on how insanely warm Pete was. The man was a fucking space heater.

He hummed appreciatively, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s middle as he tucked his head under Patrick’s chin. The singer shifted uncomfortably before slowly relaxing, tentatively wrapping his arms around Pete and resting his cheek against Pete’s hair.

They lay there like that for a few moments, Patrick almost drifting back to sleep, before Pete shifted again. Patrick sighed and looked down at him, carefully brushing the hair out of his face. Pete stared up at Patrick sheepishly, dark circles under his eyes.

“You need to try to sleep Pete,” Patrick whispered, is voice soft, like he would use when speaking to a child. Pete pouted, looking down again.

“I can’t.. I.. Can you sing to me?”

Patrick stared at him for a moment, taken aback, before nodding. He allowed Pete to get comfortable before he started singing softly, crooning right into the bassist’s ear. Pete hummed appreciatively and melted into Patrick’s side, his breath slowly becoming steady and hot on Patrick’s skin.

Once he was sure Pete was out Patrick relaxed. His fingers lightly trailed up and down Pete’s back, careful not to disturb him, continuing to hum quietly into his ear. After a few moments Patrick felt himself begin to doze off, and he lightly kissed Pete’s grossly messy hair before closing his eyes.

When Patrick woke up the next day, he was alone in his sleeping bag. It still smelled like Pete; his hair and musk and something vaguely fruity. Patrick burrowed into the scent, into the warmth, before finally giving in and getting up. Pete was sitting in the middle seat, directly in front of him. Patrick could faintly hear the music from his earbuds. After he stretched Patrick leaned forward, poking the bassist in the neck. Pete turned and took out his earbuds, looking at Patrick in confusion.

The singer smiled sheepishly, leaning forward to put his chin on the seat. “Did you get any sleep?” he asked quietly, studying Pete’s face. The lines and bags seemed to have cleared up a little, but there was still something off.. His lips were pulled down more, there was a little crease in his brow, and the faint purplish circles hadn’t left their spot under his eyes. Patrick reached out tentatively, touching the side of Pete’s face with his fingertips before smoothing down his hair.

Pete’s breath hitched when their skin met, and he sighed once Patrick’s fingers were in his hair, leaning into the touch. Sometimes he swore that Pete would start purring; the over-affectionate loser loved being touched. Pete closed his eyes, humming once before Patrick pulled his hand away.

Pete’s eyes opened, and they looked less tired now, more relaxed. “I got a little sleep. Maybe four hours? Better than nothing though.” Patrick nodded his agreement, frowning at his friend. He couldn’t help it; he worried about Pete, wanted to save him just like Pete had saved Patrick, even if he didn’t know that he did.

Pete rolled his eyes and poked Patrick’s hand. “Stop worrying mom, I’m fine,”

Patrick grumbled, but smiled as he pulled back. Pete shifted in his seat, turning his body more towards him.

“Andy said we’re gonna stop for gas and food soon. If we’re careful I think we could get hotel rooms after the show tonight?” the excitement was obvious in Pete’s voice.

It had been roughly a week since the last time any of them had slept in a bed, and about that same amount of time since their last shower. All of them needed the luxury, even if the motel was shitty and the water didn’t stay warm. Anything to feel human again.

Patrick nodded before climbing over the seat, plopping down beside Pete to wait for the stop.

After show bliss only lasted for so long. By the time they reached the motel parking lot Patrick was exhausted and gross and sore. Pete, however, stayed on the rush like it was his favorite drug. 20 minutes later and he was still buzzing, smiling and talking loudly to anyone who would listen, and being very very clingy, especially to Patrick.

The singer secretly didn’t mind. For one it was absolutely the best thing in the world to have your highschool crush hanging all over you, pressing kisses to your face and shoulders and hugging you close. But it also made Patrick so damn happy to see Pete so happy. The guy was hardly ever this genuinely overjoyed, and despite his rouse of pushing Pete away, he really did love seeing him happy.

When Joe walked back out with the room keys, he was frowning, and sighed before speaking.

“We only had enough cash for two rooms. We gotta share again.. Everyone cool with that?” After making sure everyone nodded, he continued,” and because none of us have showered in forever I choose to bunk with Andy for the 5th time in a row. You two,” he scrunched up his nose at Pete and Patrick,” are disgusting.”

Patrick huffed, rolling his eyes, but Pete grinned, white teeth on display. He threw an arm around Patrick shoulders, snatching the key from Joe.

“Fuck off Trohman. Pattycakes and I will be disgusting if we damn well please. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go jack off in the shower,” Pete announced, turning on his heel. He drug Patrick along with him, despite the singer’s protests, and was still beaming when he opened the door.

“After you,” he said, half bowing. Patrick rolled his eyes, thumping Pete’s head as he walked past. Patrick threw his stuff on the bed by the window, shrugging off his jacket. He heard Pete close the door behind him, throw his stuff on the floor, and immediately fall backwards onto the bed. Patrick didn’t even have to turn around to know how he’d look, he did this every time. He would be spread eagle, smiling up at the ceiling, shirt riding up a bit to show his stomach and maybe the tops of his boxers.. Patrick stopped himself, huffing as he pulled out the last clean pair of clothes he had, and his laptop.

Pete rolled off his bed and leaned against Patrick’s.

“I was kidding about the jacking off thing by the way. Do you wanna shower first? I can chill here for a bit, go get some food and maybe beg Andy to help us do out laundry. I saw a washroom downstairs somewhere.”

Patrick nodded, balling up his clothes in his arms. “Thanks, all my clothes are in the suitcase.”

Pete nodded, watching Patrick walk into the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Pete’s shoulders slumped, and he fell forward, his face pressing into Patrick’s mattress. He got some sleep last night, sure, but that didn’t mean the nightmares stopped. Patrick helped.. he had helped a lot. But the dark, fucked up mess that is Peter Wentz’s brain didn’t let up.

The bassist huffed and got up, taking the laundry downstairs. Andy was already there, looking sleepy as he threw his clothes into the wash. Pete moved beside him silently and started doing the same, both of them content with not speaking.

Pete sat down on one of the plastic blue chairs nearby and pulled out his phone, waiting for the clothes to wash. Andy hesitated for a moment before sitting beside him.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping well man,” he started, straight to the point,” do you want to talk about it?” Pete smiled, shaking his head.

“I’m good. Same old same old, y’know? I’ll be fine Hurley, don’t worry.” Andy nodded, patting his knee. The drummer really was a good friend; he trusted him a lot, Andy was always good to talk to.

Pete thought for a moment before tapping Andy’s arm. “Actually.. I.. You don’t think I’m annoying, do you?”

Andy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at Pete for a moment. “Pete, I know you’re annoying. It’s one of the best things about you, and I’m sure everyone would agree with me. Where did that come from man?”

Pete shrugged, looking down. The concrete floor was disgusting, gum stuck to the ground and god knows what staining the cement. He studied the ground for a few seconds before answering.

“I’m.. I get really clingy, I know I do. You don’t.. You don’t think it bothers anyone too much?”

Andy’s face was soft, blue eyes caring. He was smiling up at Pete, and suddenly the bassist was overcome with gratefulness for his friend.

“Pete, you should know better than that man. We all love you, everyone. You may be clingy and annoying and loud and an asshole at times, but I don’t any one of us would have you any other way.” Andy shook his head, turning away from Pete ,” We love you man. You’re okay.”

Pete smiled, his eyes watering slightly. Andy was a really good friend. He hugged him tightly, grinning into his shoulder, until Andy shook him off to take his laundry back upstairs. The drummer left with a wave, and Pete was alone.

He pulled out his phone, deciding to text and see what Patrick was up to.

pwheezy: hey wat u doin? :)

tricktalyfe: garageband. you still downstairs?

pwheezy: yup. u need anythin?

tricktalyfe: not really, just wondering. you wanna watch ghostbusters when you get back? it’s on tv.

pwheezy: YES tht sounds great thnks tricky

tricktalyfe: just hurry up, and grab some soda while you’re on the way back please?

pwheezy: u got it lunchbox ;) <3

Pete smiled at his phone, pocketing it when he stood. He carefully got up all of their clothes, stopping by the vending machine on his way upstairs. He kicked against the hotel room door with his foot, waiting for Patrick to let him in.

The singer answered the door in pajamas, his hair still damp and sticking down on his forehead. Pete’s grin got bigger as he stepped inside; Patrick had apparently ordered pizza for them both.

Pete jumped into his bed moments later, clutching a soda and paper plate of pizza, Patrick sitting crosslegged beside him as they watched ghostbusters. It felt like they were younger again, hanging out in Joe’s basement. Pete cherished moments like this, where they just got to be best friends again. It made him want this every day of his life, these sweet moments with Patrick.

Eventually, Patrick looked down to see Pete sleeping soundly. There was pizza sauce still smeared on his face and his mouth was open slightly, but he seemed so peaceful. The sight made Patrick feel warm, and he was smiling the entire time he cleaned up their mess. He wiped Pete’s face carefully, trying not to wake him up, before tucking him in and crawling into his own bed. Patrick was content and sleepy, out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

Something’s wrong. It was the first conscious thought Patrick had as he sat upright suddenly, eyes wild as he scanned the motel room. Light was filtering in from the windows, and he could make out Pete moving around on his bed. Patrick could hear him making little whimpering noises, his face scrunched up in pain. He was having another nightmare, a bad one this time. Patrick’s heart broke when Pete let out a little cry of pain, and he scrambled out of bed quickly. Not knowing what else to do, Patrick crawled into Pete’s bed beside him, easing the bassist into his arms. Pete woke up at some point during this and started crying in earnest, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s middle and sobbing into his chest.

Patrick held him tight until he calmed down, whispering words of comfort and petting his hair. Once his cries were reduced to only sniffles, Patrick spoke.

“Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?” Pete swallowed, pulling back from Patrick slightly. He kept his eyes down as he spoke.

“I.. W-We got into another f-fight and you.. I .. I fucked up, and am fucked up, and m-made you and everyone else h-hate me and.. and so I left a-and jumped and you.. You didn’t even go.. To th-the funeral and.. and...” Pete shook his head, unable to go any further. Patrick just pulled him close again, letting Pete calm down once more before speaking.

“Pete..” Patrick could feel his heart breaking. Is this what scared Pete? That they’d fight, that they’d all leave him? That Patrick wouldn’t care if he died? Shaking his head, Patrick leaned back, meeting his eyes. “Pete,” his voice was soft, and he held Pete’s face in his hands as he spoke. “Even if we fight, or I get mad. No matter what I say, you’re my best friend. I’m not gonna abandon you man, and.. And if you.. I..,” Patrick swallowed, closing his eyes to lean forward and press his lips against Pete’s temple. “Loosing you would kill me Petey.”

Pete nodded, hiding in Patrick’s chest again. The singer shifted, getting comfortable before starting to sing. It was quiet and soft, Pete humming along after a few moments. Suddenly Patrick yawned, and Pete was struck with guilt. He was exhausted and they were going to be busy tomorrow, and Pete was keeping him up.

“Enough of that. I’m fine.” Patrick shook his head, staring pointedly at Pete. Sometimes he could swear Patrick could read his mind. Regardless, he nodded, shifting in Patrick’s arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered suddenly, closing his eyes. Patrick smiled, brushing hair away from Pete’s face.

“Any time Pete. Always come get me if you need okay?”

Pete nodded, sighing as he got comfortable in Patrick’s arms. The singer was struck with the thought that for some reason, they fit perfectly like this. As if they were supposed to fall asleep like this every night.

Trying not to tremble at the thought, Patrick ran his fingers through Pete’s hair, trying to coax him back to sleep. He hummed, practically purring as he leaned into Patrick’s touch. The noise made it hard for Patrick to swallow, but he took it further. Patrick’s hands moved down, fingers trailing along Pete’s spine.

Patrick felt Pete tense before relaxing, pressing his face further into Patrick’s shirt. Patrick swirled his fingers around, tracing patterns on Pete’s skin. The bassist hummed appreciatively, fists balling up into Patrick’s shirt.

“Sleep,” Patrick murmured, lips brushing Pete’s ear. The bassist nodded, squeezing Patrick gently, his breathing slowly starting to slow down. Patrick fell asleep quickly, still holding the other man tightly.

AN: i had more for this but every single time it always ends up lowkey smutty so im just gonna post as is, i hope you enjoyed!! let me know what you think maybe? :)

#peterick #fall out boy #fob #fanfics #ask to tag #mostly fluff #angst #light angst #idk i thought this was cute #and s/o to anne for giving me this idea ages ago and i only just now finished it whoops

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morgandblackwill-blog · 7 years

Text

The Case of the Nightmare Weaver

“That story again?” his teenage son muttered while peering over his shoulder, “I didn't think you of all people would be looking into it.”

Hugo Carter chugged his now lukewarm coffee as he looked his son in the eyes and said,

“Would you believe me if I said this was more than curiosity at this point?” His son, Arthur, angled Hugo's computer monitor to see the news article more clearly.

“Believe is a bit too strong a word for this case, don't you think?”

“What have I told you about honesty?” Hugo grumbled, “Call your dad crazy like an adult.”

Arthur shook his head, “You're a detective, and a pretty stick-in-the-mud one at that. If you of all people are looking into this, then there has to be some merit, right?”

“Heh,” Hugo looked back to the screen with bags under his eyes as dark as soot, “I appreciate the trust, but at this point I'm starting to doubt my sanity.” He scratched his goatee, his skin itching from his lack of sleep. Hugo was a forty year old man with buttoned shirts and black jeans with a wide strong build. In contrast his son was very thin, wore a black muscle shirt, and tight blue jeans with a chained belt. They lived alone in this two-bedroom apartment building, and kept a pretty clean place considering how focused they get on work or play.

Hugo looked to his pink notebook and looked at the information he wrote about his client, Ronald Freeman. There was no doubt that the news article and this guy's account were matching up, which didn't mean anything by itself, but his eyes scrolled down at one source of information that gave this case some merit. Circled with a red pen were the words, “No access to Internet!!”

Arthur seemed to notice this as well, and commented,

“So that's why...”

“Yeah,” Hugo remarked, “Doesn't seem he knew of these accounts. The Internet is full of lies, but you could read the trauma in this man's face.”

Arthur looked again to the article, with the large title saying, “Bedtime Horror! Phantoms Torturing Victims in their Sleep!” and sighed,

“So, are we going to start believing in ghosts now?”

Hugo scoffed at this remark, and gave a cocky smile,

“You kidding me? Even if ghosts did exist, they've never been this proactive and apparent. One or two locations, maybe, but a whole city? Something is up, and I doubt it's the end times.”

“Alright, then what do you think is causing this phenomenon?”

Hugo slowly turned his chair with a wide and menacing grin.

“To be frank,” Hugo remarked, “I have no idea. For once in my career, I'm as clueless as ever.”

“Well that's good,” Arthur said with his own smile, “So, Mr. Detective, where are you going to start? How will you find this being that tortures people in their dreams? Perhaps a dream catcher?”

“Hardy har har,” Hugo grumbled with his eyes rolled, “I'm too tired for this. Do me a favor will you? Can you help me gather some contact information while I take a power nap? I want to find out more from the people that are actually distraught.”

“What!?” Arthur protested, “I was just going to ask where you put the chips, I don't have to do your job for you. If you wanted sleep, you should have thought of that thirty coffees ago!”

“You know I don't have enough for a bribe. You fine with blackmail for now?”

“What kind?”

“I'll... I dunno... get on whatever MOBA you're playing nowadays and lower your rank.”

“Not bad,” Arthur nodded, “I mean, I could obviously change my password, but for a tired response like that I felt a little antagonized.”

“Will you do it or not?” Hugo asked while his eye twitched.

“Sure, but you're filtering the trolls yourself.”

“Whatever. Night.”

“Technically, it's the afternoon.”

“Technically, shut up.” Hugo groaned as he wrapped himself in a blanket like a chrysalis in the corner of his office.

“Wait,” Arthur commented, “Why aren't you sleeping in a bed?”

“If I start screaming in agony, then you'll be a witness.”

Arthur tried to think of a response, but gave a nod of approval as he thought of it. He started to type and click away, which was enough background music for Hugo to sleep soundly.

This was a strange case to say the least. Being able to sleep during a case like this was quite hard on Hugo's sleep pattern. More and more evidence was building up to the fact that someone was able to enter a person's dream and take complete control until a body is fully rested. After three bright flashes and a low hum within the dream, visually and physically, a person would face absolute despair and horror that was created by a cloaked being that foresaw everything.

This cloaked being was labeled as, “the Nightmare Weaver,” which was coined by the people of forums and community boards that were mocking its existence. The event seemed to have gotten public attention after those misunderstanding the situation wrote silly horror stories about them. Hugo first heard of the Nightmare Weaver when Arthur linked him an article discussing a person that was, “triggered,” by these short stories, claiming they were making light of a serious issue. At first both Hugo and Arthur thought this was just another sign of humanity going downhill, but then Hugo received a single phone call that changed his perspective.

Ronald Freeman, a hermit with barely any contact to the outside world, was scratching at injuries he couldn't see when he walked into his office. It didn't take much for Hugo to hear the usual Nightmare Weaver story, a cloaked being that took the human imagination to its limit and caused mental injury all within a long and excruciating sleep. At first Hugo was about to ignore him, but the fact the Nightmare Weaver name wasn't even mentioned did interest him. After asking him about the Nightmare Weaver, he learned that this man had not touched the Internet for years, as to try and stay as anonymous as he could in the modern world.

Maybe it was a sense of justice, or maybe a pure case of curiosity, but Hugo took this man seriously. He spent forty-eight hours to research all her could about this Nightmare Weaver, and honestly started to fear him. Using the list that Arthur made for him, he started to get more and more accounts of this being. There might have been a few mocking children here and there, but he got word of some rather disturbing accounts. It was clear from these small accounts who was lying and who was genuine. The more uncomfortable they felt around his presence, the more Hugo believed their stories. He could tell the flow at that point, where they would be scared to talk to him, and then tell him of these inescapable nightmares in a detail that far exceeded the “hyper realistic” term that was thrown around online.

“I remember feeling the rain on my face,” one man said, “I knew it was a dream at first, but that cold touch of water on my face made me realize my mind couldn't tell the difference. That rain, I remember it being muddy and smelling—putrid.”

“Pinching myself didn't work,” a woman typed, “It felt so real that I was starting to believe the shit I was seeing.”

“I was so desperate to wake up,” another man commented, “I even stabbed myself in the throat, but even a jolt of death wasn't enough to wake me this time!”

This was enough to make Hugo uneasy, but for some reason he started to believe these stories that were told to him. He might have heard more disturbing online, but the reality of the situation started to weaken his stomach.

“I felt every nerve of my limbs as they started to fall under the weight of that putrid rain,” the first man recalled as his held his shoulders, “They were away from my body, and I still felt them as they were crushed under the feet of these—beasts.” His breath became more rapid, sounding cold and distant over the phone, “They were like horses, but they had the face of a fetus that just—looked at me. I felt the pebbles of the ground digging into me as that horse-like thing kept crushing my dismembered arms.”

“I was in a pit of used needles and powder,” the woman mentioned in her email, “and more disturbingly I could see my friends literally boiling from their skin to the point they melted into the pit as well! I thought just watching was bad enough, but no, my own arm moved on its own and started to reach into that put! I had needles poking through my god damned hand as I was force feeding myself melted flesh mixed with cocaine! I could taste and feel every bit of his scratching and slicing its way down my throat!”

“I couldn't stop the voice, Mr. Carter,” the other man said to his face, “I couldn't get that voice out of my head. All she said was, 'Why?' but it kept burning inside to the point I could feel it being carved into my skull. I know my account isn't gory or that scary, but the pain was real, Mr. Carter.” The man grabbed his shoulders like a maniac and said, “If you can stop this psycho from entering my head every damned night, please do it!”

He's heard disturbing stories before, but there was something about all this that Hugo was having a hard time swallowing. Perhaps it was their pain, or perhaps it was his lack of sleep, but there was something making this case dig into his skin and shake. He was panicking every moment he blinked for longer than a millisecond, he was starting to see things at the corner of his eye, and he started to hear things even in the emptiest of streets. Despite all of this, Hugo had a wide smile cracking and breaking the dimples of his cheeks. He felt like a kid that heard a bump in the night, ready to slam open the closet door to prove to his parents that the monsters were real.

“This is real,” Hugo yelped on the phone to his son, “I'm starting to piece it together! It's real, boy! It's real! I'm finally in a case that will make an impact!”

“Dad, chill. You're going psycho-bonkers, and I don't appreciate it.”

“S-Sorry.” Hugo replied with a wobbled and broken voice, “I really need sleep, but I can't, but I should, but I can't. No, wait, YES! I NEED SLEEP!”

“No kidding.”

“Listen, listen, new plan of attack.”

“Oh?”

“Listen, I'm getting closer and closer... I need you at my house right away so I can sleep. He'll be pissed that I'm getting close, he'll hear about me snooping and try to attack! It's perfect! He'll try to give me nightmares, and you'll be there to see how!”

“There's so much wrong with that, but I care too much for you to argue right now. You sleeping is a good thing.”

That night was going to be the night, that's the way Hugo felt. He was either going to take down a criminal mastermind that the police wouldn't take seriously, or he would actually face a phantom. No matter the case, he was finally going to give the world something to remember him by. He became a detective to help the world, be some sort of hero, but the reality was disheartening.

Besides a vocal thank you and a cash reward, the moment he solved a case, no matter how severe, it was just a job. No one felt that he genuinely cared about them, and sometimes even he doubted how genuine he was. However, if he could solve this one case, then this would be the one selfless act that would show the world that he cared for them.

He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for that moment that would clear everything up. His mind raced, thinking of how much he would prove to the world. He would either prove the existence of the paranormal, or stop a serial torturer, and even that alone made him happy. Time passed, and his optimism started to fade. Quite honestly, people would still think he was a distant man just doing his job, no matter how big the case, and he knew that deep down. His mind was slowing down, his childish thoughts suddenly becoming more and more embarrassing. It didn't take long for him to realize why his sanity was suddenly taking hold of him as his eyes slowly opened.

“So tell me,” Arthur asked while pausing an RPG on Hugo's computer screen,

“When you removed the Nightmare Weaver's hood, was I the culprit all along? Was that the big twist?”

“Sorry to say,” Hugo said with morning rasp and phlegm, “I didn't even get to dream.”

“That's a shame,” Arthur said in a defeated tone, “I kind of wanted to be your insanity's idea of the mastermind.”

“You're too moral to be the mastermind, Arty,” Hugo said while slowly getting up from the floor, his back cracking at every moment, “Leave the mastermind role to the criminals, alright?”

There was a bit of silence after he said that. At first Hugo raised an eyebrow, looking around to see if someone entered the room, and finally pointed to himself.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Is this thing really a criminal?” Arthur asked in a blunt tone.

“Of course it—is..?”

“I blame the lack of sleep, or your sense or justice. Either way, you just jumped on this case without really thinking, didn't you?” Hugo sat cross-legged on the floor, and let that sink in. He looked down, seeing a slight reflection of his face on the tiles, seeing a messy man that was harassing traumatized people in chase of... something he didn't even fully understand.

“I know your reputation is important to you, dad. Like you thought, the Nightmare Weaver probably found out about you—but not in a positive light. You were on the news. I'm going to be nice and not show you the article, but in exchange, we're going to talk before you head out that door again.” Hugo leaned his back against the wall, letting his fingers move through his hair. He listened to the small drone of Arthur's game play in the background, and focused on it for a while before really snapping back into reality. He looked down, saying,

“Sorry. I was so excited for a true mystery I didn't really think of what I was doing.”

“That's step one. I'm not saying you going after him is bad, but you need to really know what you're doing before you go any further.” Hugo gave a deep sigh, and with a determined look said,

“My inner parent wants to tell you to watch your tongue... but the sensible side of me knows you're completely right. So, what's your issue?”

“Why is torturing wrong?”

Hugo waited to see if he would expand on that, and was dumbfounded when he saw Arthur waiting for a response. To that, Hugo said simply,

“You're joking, right? It's a great sin that should be punished.”

“Oh what? Are you religious now?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're not answering my question, dad! You're literally chasing a shadow of something you don't even know, opening the trauma of people that as far as you know could be innocent, and are ruining your health for this case! I'm not asking IF torture is wrong, I'm asking WHY! That default answer isn't going to cut it! I'm not asking society, I'm asking YOU!”

“Why...?” Hugo always knew torture was wrong. Most of his life he knew this to be a fact, but when reaching a reason, suddenly he blanked. It was simple, torture hurts people, and that should be enough. Why did he hesitate this time? Hugo started to scratch at his beard, his nails roughly piercing his skin as he started to get angry with himself.

“Well? Have an answer? Or are you fighting for a cause you don't even believe in?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why is torture wrong to the point you're fighting tooth and nail for it!?” “Because he's hurting people he thinks are criminals! He's trying to be a god damned hero when all he's doing is damaging human beings that by all accounts might be able to be cured! He thinks he's doing the right thing, but he's just causing more of a problem!”

Arthur smirked, and said,

“Well, that was a longer response than I expected. So, it's not just causing pain, but causing pain in a way that is considered right?”

“I'm not an expert, but it's clear his tortures aren't just fear based. If I were to take a guess, they represent a sin that only they know about.”

“Why didn't you say so before?”

“You know how to spell assume, don't you? I can only guess from certain accounts at this point.”

“So your attempt to dream was to try and get answers from the phantom's own words?”

“I needed something! I'm a detective for crying out loud, I can't just take someone down under an assumption.”

“There's that confident tone of yours. What? You think you'll be able to catch a phantom that easily? I thought THAT would be the hardest part.”

“Well, we already have someone that is an easy target for this phantom.”

“Easy?”

“Ronald Freeman, the hermit. If I could prove this is a reaction to criminal accounts, then it's all a matter of figuring out how the phantom found out about his crime despite his inability to use the Internet.”

Arthur's eyes shot open as he slowly worded,

“Umm... dad?”

“Yeah?” Hugo replied in confusion.

“Think of what you just said now that you're awake.”

Hugo's expression darkened.

“I'm doing just that.”

“Is that why your hands are over your face?”

“Yes.”

“What did we learn?”

“Pride is stupid. I'm stupid. Everything is stupid.”

“Besides that.”

“I've been approaching this the wrong way.”

“There we go.”

“I'll be back.”

Hugo reached for his stuff, and ran out the door without showering or any sort of morning routine. This may lead no where, but he thought this was the best way to figure out the truth.

He was about to slam his fist into the door, but realized how stupid that would be since he has no reason to suspect his actions, and instead tapped on the door a few times. After a slight delay, Ronald Freeman slowly opened the door of his cabin, peaking through the chains and locks. After seeing Hugo, he unlocked the door and invited him inside.

“Did you find him?”

Ronald asked without hesitation.

“Not yet,” Hugo said while keeping a close eye on him, “In fact, that's why I'm here.”

“I told you everything I could, didn't I?”

“Well, not everything. All I know is that there was a woman digging into your flesh, scrapping into your stomach, and rubbed your spine with sharp claws while saying the phrase, 'It hurts.'”

“Y-Yes... why, is there something wrong with that?”

“Wrong with—no, what?”

“S-Sorry, just a bit... I didn't get a lot of sleep.”

Hugo was silent for a moment, but decided it would be hypocritical to push that statement further, and that's not why he was here anyway. He looked around the room, and commented,

“Can I ask something?”

“If it will help.”

“Why did you take away your Internet?”

It was a bit of a bluff and assumption, but it seemed to hit something as Ronald held his breath. His eyes started to dart, and finally he said,

“I want to hide my identity. You said yourself you didn't blame me for wanting to be anonymous, right?”

“Ronald, I'm going to be blunt with you. This isn't a random attack, and I think you know this.”

“I told you! I don't know anyone that would be after me specifically!” He was starting to move, heading towards the kitchen, but Hugo kept getting in front of him, and shouted,

“Don't play dumb! If that was the case, you wouldn't be anonymous, would you?”

“What the hell!? I asked you for help, and now you're after me!?”

“Give me an honest answer! Is there a reason someone would be after you?”

“They wouldn't know where to find me! I made sure of it!”

“Oh?” Hugo asked with a slight tinge of anger.

Ronald stepped back, he let that information slip far too easily. He cursed under his breath, and finally said,

“I hurt someone, alright? I didn't mean to, but I hurt them.”

“This is information you should have given me earlier. I was on your side because I heard of this case before, I thought we had a serial criminal on our hands and you were just a victim. Now, I have a better understanding of why he may be attacking you.”

“I-I couldn't, alright? I just...”

“Look, I'll find out about this mess, but for now how about you tell me how the Nightmare Weaver might have found out about this mishap?”

“I don't... I don't know, alright?”

“Why not?”

“I...” Suddenly the sweat stopped as he put his back against the wall. He gave a sigh of relief, and started to chuckle.

“I made sure there was no way anyone would know what I did. Do you see any dust around here? I make sure I clean very thoroughly.”

“If you move another inch, you know what's going to happen.”

“I should have known. I called you because you had a sense of justice. You're on his side, aren't you!? I have my regrets, I'm alone BECAUSE I have my regrets.”

“I'm not on anyone's side right now.”

“Then why me!? I'm trying! I really am! I thought when I escaped prison, I would be free, but I'm never free! I just stayed low, I just kept to myself and didn't interact with anyone, but no... I couldn't even have that!”

“Don't do anything rash.” Hugo commanded while keeping a strong stance.

“It's funny...” Ronald's breath started to slow down, “If he didn't get in the way... I would have turned myself in. I wanted you to find him, Hugo, I wanted you to find him and send him to justice so I could have one good action before I went back to that prison cell.”

“You still have a chance to do the right thing.”

There was no movement. All that could be heard was the ticking of a clock, heavy breathing, and a low hum in the distance. Hugo's instinct got the better of him as he quickly turned towards the noise, but he wasn't quick enough. Ronald held something in his hand as he said,

“I'm just... tired Hugo. I'm so, very, very tired.”

Hugo dashed towards him at full speed, tackling him back into the wall—but with one click... it was all over. Ronald fell to the ground, as a substance left from his teeth. He bit into a pill that instantly killed him on the spot.

“Damn it!” Hugo shouted, “I know you're here! Come out here and show yourself! Is THIS what you wanted!? Huh!?”

“Yes,” A soft soothing voice replied, “He showed true guilt. He will not hurt a soul again.”

Hugo desperately looked around, but didn't see anyone or anything talking to him. Instead he saw a black mist, a subtle black mist that surrounded the room. It was at that moment that Hugo realized, he found the culprit he had been looking for, and he was not at all happy about it.

“Who the hell gave you permission to do this?”

“I did what I felt was right. He was guilty. All I did was show him his guilt over and over. He chose what to do after, I merely reminded him of his sins.”

“I don't care how you did it, you were still torturing and harming someone for your own agenda!”

“If I told you he lied, would that change things? As a father, if I told you the woman he described in his dreams was a girl, would you still act this way?”

“O-Of course I would!” Hugo felt a chill run down his spine as he said this. He was so confident only a moment ago, so why was he doubting himself now?

“What is your solution? Therapy? Counseling? Locking him away for a 'long time?'” A part of the mist hovered over the wall behind Ronald's corpse, “What would his daughter say to that?”

When he said this, the wall started to deteriorate where the mist had placed itself. Behind the wall was a shelf containing the skull of a young child. Hugo nearly vomited as he saw that the skull was tarnished in ways he would never want to describe.

“Tell me, why do you feel he deserved humanity?”

“I-I...”

“Your tone quickly changed when you saw what happened first hand, didn't you?”

“You shouldn't be...”

Hugo's shirt was suddenly slashed to bits, as the voice continued and said,

“I kept in their dreams. He chose to end himself because of his actions.”

“You...”

“I, what? I went too far? I do not add anything, I just use their mind against them. That is what a nightmare is meant for. If you're to tell me that I'm wrong, then give me a good reason. I don't do this for myself, so I can stop at any time.”

Hugo was silent. To be honest, he didn't know how to describe what he was feeling. There was something very wrong, and he thought it was the crime. Honestly, if this was the extent of the crime, then part of him actually accepted what he did. He then asked,

“Why are you showing yourself if it's not for yourself?”

“People ignore a nightmare if there is no threat. They will be haunted, but in the end they will rarely change.”

“So in the end, they do it out of fear for you and not fear in themselves?”

“Is that what you see?”

“I was guiltless, and even I feared you. Sure, what you're doing is technically working, but... what's the difference between this and the many other scare tactics in history? Sure, you're using the mind, but just because their scars don't show... quite honestly you're not any different by having a name and appearance.”

“Is that so.”

“All you're doing is scaring people into obeying your laws. No matter how moral you are, you do realize how little you're doing for your cause in that case, right?”

“I see. However, you don't even know what I am. What if I am right?”

“Can you really be right if you're the only one judging? If all crimes were committed by those that knew they were doing wrong, then it'd be a lot easier on my end to find out who the, 'bad guy,' is.”

“You can look at a sight like this and still not see evil?”

“In my eyes, yes, his actions were evil. He hurts others, and I was going to take him down with you.”

“You still see me as evil?”

“No, but your actions still are.”

“Even as you look at his daughter's skull in that condition?”

“I said your actions were evil. Necessary or not, those actions should have punishment. That's what you risk when you commit actions like that.”

“Then how do you plan to stop me?”

“I won't. I'm just telling you what I consider justice. Can you say I'm wrong in thinking that way?”

“... What are you hoping to accomplish right now?”

“I'm not going to accomplish anything. I hope to, but you're still going to do this, right?” Hugo got up, and slowly went to the door, “At this point I'm both trying to convince you to stop, while also convincing myself I'm not a failure for being unable to stop this. I'll at least tell myself he had that drug by that skull before you came into his life... and maybe this case was for the best. Honestly, I think he had it coming. That doesn't mean I think you're right though, does that make sense? How can I know you will always be right, when I know how flawed I am? Can I really expect you to be beyond flawed?”

“Are you disappointed in what you found?”

“Of course I am. I'm a detective, I'm used to disappointment. The mystery was always the best part. Now that I know the paranormal exists, not much has changed. No matter what happens from here on out, all I see is someone else that thinks they're right.”

There wasn't another word spoken as Hugo left that house. When he got home, he did eventually explain everything to Arthur—after making sure the authorities got to the body. He didn't know what to think for a long time, until finally he noticed how less articles were talking about the Nightmare Weaver. There was something nice about that.

As he worked, suddenly his smaller actions seemed to have a bit more impact. Even if the thanks were small, and some still denied how genuine he was, there was suddenly a better understanding of what he wanted. He did want to do it for others, so he shouldn't expect much from them. The more he expected them to thank him, the more it would be about himself than for the people he wanted to help.

One day, Arthur asked him,

“Do you think the Nightmare Weaver stopped?”

“No,” Hugo replied, “He was probably the most stubborn person I've met in my life. He probably had reason, I don't know how old that spirit it, but it was clear he plans to keep doing it for a very long time.”

“Then why do you think his accounts have been decreasing lately?”

“Well,” Hugo chuckled, “Maybe he listened. I hope he did at least. If he stopped showing himself in the dreams, then maybe even a spirit can see the flaws in their own actions. If that's the case, then maybe finding him wasn't such a waste after all.”

#nightmare #weaver #ghost #paranormal #detective #horror #urban fantasy #original work #short story

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