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justapurrcat · 2 years

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Things That Look Like Nothing | p.b.p.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Synopsys: As if getting caught up into the cliché trap of falling in love with your best friend and having to watch as he falls for someone else wasn’t enough, the universe has decided to take a step further in punishing you, turning your existence in a not-so-figurative life or death situation. Your closest confident is now the reason behind your pain, your anchor the very thing that’s dragging you down...

Word Count: 5.960k

Warnings: English not being my first language, angst, hanahaki disease, so unrequited love and blood, a bit of fluff, a hint of smut... the usual you should expect from me I guess~

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: ... after the absolute filthiness of my last vampire!Tom blurb, I needed something to cleanse my soul, so here is an angsty Peter fic with my attempt at Hanahaki!au (aka watch me writing anything but Unscripted because I emotionally scarred myself with it well done Lia well done)~ hope you enjoy it 💜

“Peter?”

You blinked repeatedly, as if you couldn’t believe your own eyes.

The sight of your best friend perched on the windowsill of your college dorm, without his suit, taking the foolish risk of being seen and discovered, was something you were convinced you would never get to see again.

Peter waved awkwardly, his big puppy eyes betraying a certain insecurity, something he was certain he’d never get to experience when talking to you. You were his safe harbour, the person whose presence he felt comfortable enough with to let all his masks dissolve.

He could let go of Spider-Man, of the orphan, of the young man who carried so much onto his shoulders, of the brave, cheerful façade he sometimes forced himself to put on not to worry his aunt and friends… until all that was left was Peter Parker sound asleep in your arms.

Now though, that same Peter Parker was scared. Scared that you would turn your back to him just like you had stopped talking to him all at once, through a dry text on how you needed to spend some time alone, isolated from everything and everyone.

He had jokingly pointed out that it would’ve been kinda hard while bouncing between classes and your part-time job. No answer had come from you.

So, after an entire week of complete radio silence from your part, Peter had decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Mind if I come in?”, he finally found the courage to ask.

You knew you should’ve told him to go away, that now that he was trying to get a girlfriend, sneaking into your room at night wasn’t exactly the best way to proceed about it, but your stupid body unconsciously betrayed you, stepping aside and nodding like you had done so many times before, effectively inviting him inside.

Force of habit, you told yourself, and you were also doing it to protect his secret identity. Wallowing in that stupid lie was way more reassuring and less scary than admitting that Peter’s absence affected you as if a vital organ had been brutally ripped away from under your flesh.

Not that you really needed to admit that, to be honest, considering that you were not so metaphorically dying because of unrequited love… but still, it was one last stubborn fight to preserve what little was left of your dignity.

“W-what are you doing here?”, you babbled, unable to keep your hands from fidgeting and already starting to feel a strange movement in your chest, the threatening, delicate caress of a soft petal unfolding in your left lung. Right next to your heart, how pathetically cliché.

“Just checking on my best friend.” Peter deadpanned, allowing his gaze to wander around your room, looking for any sign that could tell him what was going on with you. But it all looked the same and his spider sense kept buzzing in the back of his mind without any alteration, a white noise he had reluctantly gotten used to it when it came to you.

“Who’s been avoiding me for some reason”, he added when his eyes landed on the picture frame lying face down on your desk.

“I haven’t”, you objected weakly, caught in your lie like a deer in headlights.

His lips pressed into a hard line, in a frown that tasted likr both anger and pain, and he took a step closer, picking the frame up to examine it. He didn’t really need any other clue, but your bright, smiley childish faces staring back at him felt like a stab through his heart.

It was the first pic the two of you had taken together, something you had always described as your most prized possession. And now you didn’t want to see it, just like you didn’t want to see him.

“You have”, Peter insisted, starting to feel tears burning in his throat. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold them back and – before he could break it – put the pic back in its place.

“Fine, I can’t stand you. Happy now?”, you scoffed, hoping this coldness could pacify the sensation in your chest. In a desperate attempt to save yourself that wouldn’t involve a surgery and a definitive memory loss. You wanted to trick the invisible monster, so that it would eventually lead your heart to believe that there was not an ounce of love left in you that could be given to your best friend.

Better to keep him in your life shielded behind a veil of denial and poorly fabricated indifference, than to lose him to darkness forever.

Of course, it didn’t work in the slightest: you simply couldn’t lie to yourself. And that love was no longer yours to give: it belonged to Peter and Peter alone, whether he wanted it or not.

Clearly not amused by your joke, Peter turned around, actually taking you in for the first time after so many days. And it felt like a punch in his gut.

You shrunk under his incandescent gaze, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”, you spat defensively.

“You look…”, he trailed off, at complete loss for words.

“Like shit, you can say it.”

And felt like it, too. Isolating yourself and being away from him had turned out to be useless because, even while basically having entered your Rapunzel era, Peter was still all you could think about.

Even now that he was standing in the middle of your tiny bedroom, physically within reach yet miles away from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe his presence there was wrong, that that wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Which didn’t exactly help with the whole Hanahaki situation going on.

“… annihilated.”

“That’s a big word, did MJ teach you that?”, you sneered, trying to move past him to go and sit on your bed. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, you couldn’t collapse right in front of him or you wouldn’t have heard the end of it.

“Don’t change the subject”, Peter hissed, grabbing your elbow, not harshly enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to stop you and keep you in place. “You’re sick.”

You froze, the sudden proximity and contact spreading fire under your skin and at the same time constricting your lungs. “It’s nothing”, you forced out as naturally as you could.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me”, he pointed out, an unusual and new scent of flowers coming from your body not going unnoticed by him. He couldn’t explain it to himself: it wasn’t bad, but it didn't smell like any of the perfumes you would use on a daily basis… and yet, it was so… you.

“You’d be surprised how many things can look like nothing”, you instinctively retorted, pulling your arm from his grip, and you had to bite your tongue not to add a couple more words that you were aware would’ve ruined everything beyond repair.

To you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Peter inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Dunno”, you shrugged, dismissing the whole thing. “It sounded like a cool thing to say.”

“y/n…”, he sighed tiredly, trying to resonate with you. “What is going on?”

No response came from you and he gulped when he heard your heartbeat slow down almost imperceptibly. Almost, because Peter had made that rhythm his own, and he had come to know it like the back of his hand. He had regulated his life onto it, his peace nestled in those brief little fragments of seconds inside your ribcage.

“I missed you…”, he confessed. “I miss my y/n.” And he missed the way your heart spoke to him, that sweet, comforting sound that never failed to let him know that everything was okay. But now it spoke a foreign language, so alien that he couldn’t even try to learn it, let alone comprehend it.

“I missed you, too”, you admitted in a thin voice.

“Then why are you avoiding me? What happened?”

“Nothing, Peter”, you repeated softly, with a light shake of your head, letting your lips indulge on the beloved syllables of his name. “I promise it’s nothing.”

“Stop lying to me!”, Peter yelled, the unexpected change in his tone making you jump in surprise. Not in fear. Never in fear.

He immediately regretted raising his voice – and especially raising it at you – but he was mad, worried, and hurt, and your lack of answer did nothing to ease his feelings. If anything, it drove him even madder.

What he had told you was the truth: he did miss you. He missed you like air, he understood he had done something wrong, and he wanted to make it better, he wanted you to feel better… but you weren’t giving him the chance to do that – whatever that was.

For fuck’s sake, he would’ve given you a litre of his own blood, had you told him it was the solution you needed, but you were denying yourself to be helped… and he couldn’t have it that way. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry”, he added quickly, reaching out for your hands and taking them in his. He winced at how cold they were.

You let him do that, not putting up any resistance when he took another step in your direction. You just wanted him to hold you tight and never let go of you, was it too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because your name wasn’t MJ Watson.

“It’s okay”, you breathed out, and your voice was so thin that, hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing, your best friend wouldn’t have heard it.

God every part of you was beginning to hurt so much from his proximity… but it was so nice to have him that close and touching you so tenderly… you would’ve gladly prolonged that pain for eternity. You would’ve died for it.

You realised how stupid you had been to avoid him, all the time you could’ve spent next to him was now lost forever and it was a blasphemy of the worst kind.

Peter placed your palms onto his chest and kept them there in hope his super-human warmth would bring you any comfort, then let go of them and cupped your cheeks, gently tilting your face up so that you would look at him.

He saw your eyes glistening with tears, and it tore him apart to notice how similar they looked to when they were filled with joy. It dawned upon him now, how sad your happiness truly was, like something obscure wouldn’t allow you to experience anything good ever again.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, but the light in your smile had gradually begun to fade, consumed by a slow, but inexorable melancholy that was weakening not only your soul, but your body as well.

“You’re… you’re…”, Peter stuttered, then went quiet, his voice failing him. He couldn’t bring himself to vocalise them, but the words loomed above your heads like a menacing dark fog. What he wanted to say was cruelly obvious and the fact that you didn’t deny it did nothing but prove his theory right.

It wasn’t a simple illness… you were dying.

“No…”

The ground crumbled under his feet, the air turning to dust in his lungs. How could you have hidden that from him? How could he have been so blind not to see it?

“No, it can’t be.”

Your figure became blurred in his eyes, getting reduced to a splash of colours that barely resembled you on the other side of a thick barrier of tears. But he was too scared to wipe them away, filled with the horrible suspicion that you would vanish from his sight if he only dared to try.

“L-let me help you”, he begged with a broken voice. “Please, y/n, let me help you.”

“Peter…”

“Please…”

You shook your head, taking a deep breath despite the piercing pain spreading in your torso. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Frustration bubbled up in his stomach at those words, a mess of emotions clashing in his mind and heart. No, he refused to believe it. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s true.”

“Shut up”, Peter hissed, clenching his jaw. How could you be so stubbornly calm and almost resigned about it?

He was your best friend, you were one of the most important people in his life, he cared about you more than he cared about anyone else, more that he cared about himself, he couldn’t imagine his existence without you… there was no way in the World he couldn’t do anything to help you.

“Peter, there’s no point–”

“I said shut up.”

Like there was some kind of specific correlation between what he was doing and showing you that he could do something to help you, Peter yanked you forward, crashing his lips onto yours as your chests collided with an audible thud.

He kissed you with the ferocious passion of a desperate man, his arms wrapping themselves around you like ivy, caging you in a suffocating, yet freeing embrace, his hands exploring the mysteries of a body he had criminally taken for granted for too long.

Your incredulity didn’t have a long life, the pain long forgotten as your fingers got lost in his hair, wearing the soft locks like the most precious jewellery. You kissed him back as if you were engaging in the fight of your life, effortlessly following his lead like you had been created to do just that in your existence.

Never breaking the contact, Peter hastily backed you up towards your small bed and unceremoniously pushed you down onto the mattress, wasting no time in covering your body with his and getting between your thighs, immediately starting to grind his core against yours.

Just as eagerly, you wrapped your legs around his hips and gripped his shoulders pulling him in and breathlessly whimpering his name as soon as your hungry mouths parted, like that could’ve drawn him even closer.

You had dreamed of this moment for so long, you weren’t going to complain, no matter how unexpected all of it was.

“Peter…”

“That’s…” Peter threw his head back, licking his lips, still savouring your taste, an obscenely blissed out expression on his face as his grunts mixed with your soft moans. “That’s the only thing I wanna hear from you.”

The sight was nothing short of divine. Almost as divine as the feeling of knowing that, hadn’t it been for the layers of clothing separating your bodies, he would’ve been making you his, ruining you for anyone else… after all, he had already done that to your heart.

You gasped when, without warning, he grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled, tearing it down the middle, his eyes going round and shining bright when your bare breasts came into view.

“Beautiful…”, he purred in contemplation, letting his thumb circle one of your nipples. The whine that simple touch elicited from you emboldened him and, with a devilish grin, he attached his mouth to your skin.

“Peter!”, you yelped, a hand tangling itself through his soft messy curls and the other one fisting his shirt and yanking the fabric. You needed the damn thing off, you wanted to touch him. Feel him.

“Shh”, he cooed, kissing your sternum as a particularly sharp thrust dragged another moan out of your lips. “I got you, petal”

Petal.

It was just a word, yet it was all it took you to remember how things really were, to understand what was truly going on in that precise moment.

And what was going on was that your best friend – whom you loved more than words could convey – was trying to fuck you and that you were letting him. And what was worse, was that he probably – no, he definitely – just wanted to practice, so that he could be ready for when he would do those things with his true love. MJ.

That was all you had become to him, you painfully realised. What remained of his best friend, was now nothing more than a chance to test himself and his abilities.

“P-Peter…”

Your fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, barely encircling it, and the original intention was to remove his hand from you, but you only ended up keeping it there, even arching your back to give him better access to your body.

“No.”

Yes.

It was so fucking wrong it almost became right. Almost.

“Stop…”

He didn’t hear you, too absorbed by how amazingly right you felt in his arms, on his lips, against him…

Peter discovered that the more he took from you, the more he wanted to give you. He discovered that he needed to be inside of you, that he longed to have you under him, praising how good he was making you feel, telling him how much you cared about him, repeating his name until it would no longer make sense to his ears.

That night, Peter discovered that he wanted to make love to you. Not MJ, you. His y/nn.

“Stop…”

No, he didn’t just want to make love to you.

He wanted to hold your hand, tickle you so much you would cry-laugh, then kiss those tears away as his lips traced every inch of your face. He wanted to fall asleep with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair as you read for him, he wanted to wake up next to you, whisper cute silly compliments in your ear, he wanted to make you smile and pinch your cheeks.

He wanted to yell to the whole World how lucky he was to have you by his side. And that would’ve meant murmuring in your ear while you were cuddled up against each other, because he wanted you to be his World.

Peter Benjamin Parker discovered that he was in love with you.

“I SAID STOP!”, you screamed with what little remained of your breath, the strangled shattered sound that left your throat dragging him out of that inexplicable delight and turning his blood to ice.

He had heard you this time.

Panic washed over him, the suspect that he might have made you uncomfortable, or worse, hurt you, slithering up his spine and sinking its fangs into the back of his neck, poisoning the ecstasy that had descended upon him. “y/n, what–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because you shoved him off of you – more like, he let you – and turned to your side, hunching over yourself as you coughed uncontrollably, blood and petals spilling between the fingers covering your mouth.

Peter smelled it before he saw it, but there was something unusual about it, a note to that scent that shouldn’t have been there.

Hyacinths.

It made no sense, but you were coughing hyacinths.

The dreadful discovery, and all that followed in its wake, hit him like a fucking high-speed train.

No…

What had he done?

When he touched your shoulder, you tried to get away from that bed, from him, and you didn’t know if that was helping you or just hurting you more. It was all pointless, tough, because as soon as your feet touched the floor, you fell like a marionette that’d just got its strings cut off.

“Y/N!!!”

Peter rushed crawled off the bed in a hurry, not giving a damn about his hands touching the bloody sheets, and took you in his arms as he sat on the floor, scorching tears once again clouding his eyes, terror and guilt doing the same to his brain, the spider sense going off like crazy.

You were dying. And now it was because he was killing you.

“Nonononono…”

Red and purple were filling his vision. They were painting your mouth, your throat, your chest, and now his own clothes. But he couldn’t let go of you. He couldn’t let go of his love.

“y/n!”

“Y-your shirt…”, you shivered, coughing more blood and petals “I’m sorr–”

“No, love, no”, Peter shushed you, caressing your face in hope that could bring you some relief. He began to stand up, but you winced at the slightest movement, so he was forced to stop and resume his previous position, cradling you like he was afraid to break you. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Y-you’re gonna be okay because we have to go on a date.”

He was rambling now, imprisoned in a merciless fight against time, death and all sorts of regrets he never thought he would get up until that moment.

He regretted every single time he looked at you without seeing you and every single time he did see you, but decided not to.

“We have to, get it? A-and we have to because I have to kiss you, because I have to spend the entire time telling you how much I love you, okay? Did you hear that? I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You pressed the side of your face against his chest, trying to focus on the beating of his heart so that it would block everything out. Everything that wasn’t the two of you in that moment.

If that was going to be your end, you wanted it to be with Peter.

“I love you, too”, you exhaled, as all your strength slowly started to abandon you. So that was it, then. Only a few instants of love for a life spent wishing it from afar. But that love came from Peter, your Peter, and that made it worth it.

You looked up and a pained smile appeared on your lips as Peter cupped your cheek. You reached out to push his hair out of his face, only sparing the rebel lock you adored so much.

Peter sniffed, crying uncontrollably, the tiny little drops falling onto your skin, mixing with your own.

“I’d love to go on that date.”

“W-we will…”

You were about to nod when your body stiffened all at once, then went inert in his arms, your hand falling limp by your side as you fell into the dark.

“y/n!!!”

Waking up felt like a fist colliding with your chest, forcing air back into your lungs as a striking white light blinded you. Out of pure instinct, you threw an arm over your eyes to protect them.

“Oh, you’re awake”, someone stated, causing you to look to your left and raise your arm, focusing on the silhouette of a female figure. A doctor was standing next to your bed, hands tucked in the pockets of her immaculate coat and an indecipherable expression on her face. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you realised what you were about to say. Good. You were feeling good.

More puzzled than ever, you pushed yourself up on your elbows until you were in a sitting position, the fatigue and ache you were expecting to feel while doing so, were nowhere to be found in that hospital room.

You pressed a hand against your sternum and felt nothing but a regular, perfectly healthy pulse. “W-what happened?”, you wondered, looking back at the doctor, who was still observing you in silence.

“Hanahaki disease”, the woman explained, not that you really needed to know. “And in a pretty advanced stage, too, judging by the quantity of blood and fully grown flowers”, she added. “But don’t worry: you’re good now, everything’s okay.”

Judging from her face, maybe she was expecting some sort of reaction, but you just stared at her in complete silence, pure confusion written all over your features.

“Spider-Man found you and brought you here.”

Your jaw dropped, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline and your confusion transitioning to disbelief. “He has… are you serious?”

So that meant everything that happened wasn’t just a dream…

The doctor nodded, looking a bit perplexed by your question. That didn’t last long, though. “You must’ve scared the life out of him”, she went on, smiling to herself as she got lost in the memory of meeting a superhero. Not the most professional behaviour to adopt with a patient who had just dodged death lying right there… but you couldn’t really blame her, after all.

“I’ve spent like half an hour reassuring him that you were fine”, she recalled, tucking her hair behind her ear, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

But as it usually happened, your little brain needed to be triggered by words and that was exactly how things went, making you come to the realisation that all that talk about Peter bringing you to the hospital had taken your attention away from a quite important topic.

In all fairness, you weren’t always this slow – your constant anxiety and overthinking wouldn’t allow it –, but you had nearly died: you figured you could cut yourself some slack for needing a bit more time to put two and two together.

At first the doctor had told you that you were good, now that you were fine. Subtle variations to communicate the same message.

“But to be honest, I understand where he came from: you were covered in blood… one of the interns actually fainted as soon as he saw you. We all thought there was nothing that could be done to–”

“Wait, what did you just say?”, you interrupted her, and that startled her a little. Maybe you were coming off as rude, too, but you didn’t really have time to worry about that.

“That you made an intern faint?”, she repeated, arching an eyebrow. “It was his first round, poor guy–”

“No, the ‘me being fine’ part”, you specified, cutting her off again. It was urgent, manners could wait. “What do you mean?”

“You healed”, the doctor said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “You’re safe now.”

You were not quite sure why she would feel the need to repeat it, and the suspect that she probably thought your confusion was nothing but mere dumbness did cross your mind, but you chose not to question it.

“In fact, you were already safe when you got here. All we had to do was remove the last flowers you couldn’t spit out when you fainted.”

Your jaw dropped dramatically, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, the loudest “What?” blocked in your throat, between your vocal cords, without a chance of getting out.

When it became clear that you wouldn’t be able to emit another sound, your gaze fell into your lap, focusing entirely on your folded hands, on the skin you had relentlessly tormented during those last three months and a half. It was a habit you had made yours really quickly, the cuts and scratches on your fingers requiring the excuse of a new cooking course to cover their origin.

Peter had been the hardest to convince, and part of you wanted to believe that it was because of some sort of special connection the two of you shared, a bond that made it impossible for one to lie to the other, or some hopelessly romantic shit like that.

And as you stared at what you had done to yourself in the name of your unrequited love for him you couldn’t force things to make sense for the life of you.

The previous doctor you had talked to had been clear about it, stating that you had only two options to save yourself: an extremely dangerous surgery with very little chance of success, or doing your best to fall out of love with Peter.

But you still remembered Peter. You still loved him… and yet somehow you were no longer ill. So how…

“I feel like I gave you too much information altogether…”, the doctor commented, giving you a weird look you didn’t even notice. “I’m gonna leave you now, so you can rest a bit more, okay? You’re still weak.”

With that, she left the room, without bothering to wait for an answer that wasn’t going to come anyway.

You didn’t move a muscle, staring into the void with your head hung low, the terrifying, sublime sensation of something both worse and better than despair weighting on your shoulders. It was the faintest spark of hope, and you would’ve gladly let it flare up and burn you to the ground.

A little noise dragged you out of your thoughts, and it took you nothing to recognize it: it was the sound of scratching on glass, and that could only mean one thing.

You turned towards the window, finding Spider-Man cautiously peaking his head in. “Peter?”, you exhaled, releasing a breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Uhm… hey…” You could perceive the insecurity in his voice, and even with his face being completely covered, you just knew that a soft baby pink was dusting his cheeks and ears. “I know it’s past visit-time, but… mind if I come in?”

For a few seconds, seeing him there, hearing him asking you that brought you back to your room, with flowers growing in your lungs, a shirt he hadn’t torn, lips he hadn’t claimed and a body he hadn’t touched nor tried to make his. A love he hadn’t poured on you.

“Y-yes…”

Peter carefully stepped inside the room, shutting the window behind him and taking off his mask – him being so comfortable doing it had to have something to do with Karen hacking the security cameras, you were more than positive about that.

“H-hey”, he waved nervously, taking a look around, the thought of you having to stay there on your own making him uncomfortable. Yes, he knew you were no longer in danger, but how could they leave you alone like that after what just happened?

“Hey.”

“Uhm…” He scratched the nape of his neck, chewing on his lips. “I wanted to bring you flowers”, he finally managed to say something coherent, immediately cursing himself for it. “B-but then I thought… you know…”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you confirmed, patting the mattress and scooting over a bit in a silent invitation. “They say I’m good now.”

“And what do you say?”, Peter insisted, sitting right next to you, maybe closer than needed. “Are you feeling good?”

You nodded, letting him take your hands in his, your past lies blatantly clear in every small wound his eyes were able to find. Guilt washed over him as he gently brushed his fingertips over them, wishing he could kiss the pain away, wishing that you would let him.

“I should’ve known”, he muttered.

“I’m a better liar than you think”, you joked, lightly bumping your forehead against his, causing him to let out a bitter chuckle. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You’re sorry?”, Peter echoed you in shock, barely dropping your hands. “You are apologising to me?”

“… for scaring you”, you repeated quietly, hanging your head low. “And lying to you.”

“You’re…” Frustrated and at loss for words, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come here, you idiot” , he said then, opening his arms in resignation.

The simple gesture felt like a miraculous ointment on your soul and you let yourself fall into his tight embrace, nostalgia washing over you like a tsunami. Hiding your face into the crook of his neck, you inhaled the fresh scent of his soap, discovering that even the coarse material of his suit rubbing onto your cheek and irritating your skin was something that you had deeply missed.

“You’re incredible, I swear”, Peter broke the silence, caressing your back in an improvised massage. “You’re lucky that I’m in love with you, or I would swing out of this room right after a sentence like that.”

You tensed up and he perceived that, but he didn’t let go of you.

“I don’t love MJ.”

“What?”, you hummed, keeping your face buried in his chest. It seemed so real, but you weren’t sure you could actually believe it. It would mean having to be vulnerable, coming out of your emotional trenches end exposing yourself to the wonderfully frightening possibility of being worthy of love.

Of Peter Parker’s love.

“I do not love her. I thought I did. I don’t.” He was speaking about it so calmly, like she truly represented nothing but a simple friend in his eyes.

It sounded to good to be true.

“Peter, you’re just saying this because–”

“Oh no, don’t you dare”, Peter stopped you with the most adorable pout. This time, it was him who squeezed your shoulders and pushed you back just enough to look into your eyes, forcing you to listen to him.

“I love you”, he declared firmly, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

Part of you wanted to look away in shame, but you didn’t. Appealing to all your courage, you held his golden-brown gaze, the mesmerizing warmth hitting you like it was the first time. Could you accept that light in your life?

“I've been an idiot not to realise it sooner”, Peter reprimanded his stupid past self. “And I know I showed it in a terrible way – probably the worst way possible –, a-and I hate that I almost had to lose you to understand it, but, I love you. I’m in love with you. You and only you, y/n.”

His eyebrows knit together, determination dripping from his tone. “And I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna repeat it to exhaustion if that’s what it takes to get it in that head of yours.”

He chocked on his own breath, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you considering him an asshole. “Wait, no, I do care about what you have to say”, he tried to clarify. “Please do tell me what you have to say, that was just me being dramatic, please don’t think I don’t care, because I do, I care so much–”

“Peter.” You calling his name, combined with your fingertips touching his lips, effectively silenced him, and the poor guy stared back at you like a lost puppy, waiting for your verdict.

His hands descended onto your waist, toying with the hem of your shirt. You melted into his touch, dragging the pads your fingers along his chapped bottom lip. He mindlessly kissed them, making warmth spread along your cheeks and ears.

“… if it’s not you saying that you love me, I don’t wanna hear it.”

It took Peter a while to fully process what you just told him, the rejection he was expecting only worsening his discomfort, but when he did… oh Lord, his smile would’ve put the sun to shame.

There was nothing more beautiful in the whole universe than Peter’s joy, a mesmerizing spectacle you were incredibly grateful to be witnessing. It was like welcoming an entire sunrise in your being, a thousand little sparks blooming inside of your chest. What was once filled with deadly petals carrying your sorrow, was now blessed with the light of his love.

And there was no need to accept that light: it was already filling your heart and you had no intention of letting it go.

“Not even if it’s me saying how much I love you?”, he teased you, his breath tickling your fingertips, the hypnotizing movement of his mouth when those three last words left it a sight that would forever be engraved in your memory.

You pretended to ponder it. “I guess we can make an exception.”

Usually, words tended to lose their meaning when pronounced one too many times. But that didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

Because there could never be one too many times when the topic was his love for you.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading this! Let me know what you think, if you feel like it, I’d love to hear your thoughts 💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @hemlockhearts @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @melodicheauxxo @seolaseoul @peteprker @peetahpahkah @marajillana @yeetzel @brooklynscherry-z @liltimmys @jahayla-parker @moniffazictress11 @spideysbae @vibesdontlie @raajali3 @lnmp89 @sherlockstrangewolf

Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tom!peter parker #tom!peter #tshwritersnet #spiderman #tom!spiderman #tom holland #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #aged up!peter parker #college!peter parker #hanahaki!au #things that look like nothing

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mirkwoodshewolf · 1 year

Text

Father knows best; Matt Murdock x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Okay well this was a certainly a LOOOONG wait in the making, truthfully I had almost forgotten this but after leaving the last part on such a cliff hanger I couldn’t just leave it like that. So this chapter will be broken down into two parts and this will be the FINAL update to Guardian Devil mini-series.

Warnings: murder, grooming, Kilgrave’s manipulative controlling, Matt acts a little OOC (like how he wanted to kill Kingpin in s.3 but in the end didn’t, here I believe in a case like this for the sake of my fanfic, Matt would actually WANT someone like Kilgrave dead).

FINAL PART

Taglist:

@your-not-invisible-to-me

@queensdivas

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@austynparksandpizza

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

_____________________________________________________________

*Flashback*

The sound of a struggle could be heard from an apartment along 42nd street. It was Friday night and as always no one was home unless they were passed out drunk already from a hard week’s work. A window was shattered as a body began falling down until it landed in a large dumpster bin. Another body jumped out and scaled down the fire escape almost acrobatically until they landed on their feet.

The person that fell in slowly got up with a groan but not before a hand grabbed them and forced them out of the dumpster and had the man rolling along the floor after a swift kick to the gut to ensure he didn’t run. Blood covered half of his face and his left knee was at an odd angle.

“What do you want? I didn’t do anything to you.” The man groaned in Japanese.

“The Kingpin says you’re a loose end. And loose ends need tying up.” At the mention of the Kingpin’s name the man reach into his pocket but with a clean throw of the baton, the sound of his finger bones cracking rang out as he let out a cry of pain.

“Wait. Help me! I can pay you twice what he’s giving you. Weapons, drugs, anything!” he pleaded.

“What I want, you can’t give me.” She replied in English as she took back her baton and stood over the Japanese man. She raised the baton and with a hard swing, the sound of his skull cracking sounded off as he lay there dead.

*My POV*

Two victims in just under a month and with 4 months of training by some of The Hands’ personal best made me ready for these types of missions. But killing these guys gave me no pleasure, Kingpin says this is only practice, well I’m done with practicing. I want him. I need the man who killed my mother!

“Alright! Yes!” I heard a man’s voice say as clapping was heard. My eyes widened and I quickly turned to see a man in a deep purple suit standing at the entrance of the alleyway with two gorgeous women at his side as they too applauded. “That was absolutely tremendous! I thought I was good haha! You are a sight to behold. Wasn’t she amazing?” he asked the two women who nodded. “You bore me, leave.” And they did as he asked.

Shit! Kingpin said no witnesses, I reached for my shuriken but he told me.

“I’d keep put both hands at your sides where I can see them.” Suddenly I felt my arms go at my sides and they felt like lead as I couldn’t move them. “If you’re worried about me turning you into the police, don’t worry. To be honest one less of them yakuza rats to worry about. I’m cool.”

“Yeah you’re cool.” I found myself saying. He gave a slight tilt of his head before he said.

“Come here and take that mask off so I can see your face.” Again against my own will, I felt my hands reach for my Bobcat mask and removed it as I walked closer to the man.

He appeared to be around Matt and Foggy’s age, maybe even a bit older. He had dark brown hair, a five o’clock stubble, and his eyes a dark, empty brown.

“Jesus you’re just a kid. A kid willing to do that much damage to a man twice her size. I can see it in your eyes.” He cupped my chin and had me look up at him. “Ohhh yes. I know those eyes anywhere. Rage, vengeance. Just like me at your age. Tell me how old are you?”

“16.”

“16. Yes the prime age for a young woman but here you are. Kicking ass and taking names.” The smile that spread across his face sent a shiver of fear up my spine as his empty eyes shined a slimmer of a crazed, psychotic look. “Tell me this, did you enjoy killing that man?” he asked as he finally let go of my chin.

“Yes.” I responded coldly.

“Hmm-mm, why’s that?”

“Because it gets me closer to my goal.” I replied. “Avenging my mother.” His eyes slightly widened as he was gobsmacked at my statement before he said.

“Well…..so sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

“Bobcat.”

“No, no, no not your superhero name, your real name.” I hesitated until my name suddenly rolled off my tongue.

“(Y/n) Perry.”

“Perry? Well…..no wonder why you looked so familiar. You are practically a resemblance of her.”

“You knew my mother?” I asked as my heart skipped a beat.

“It seems we have a lot to talk about. There’s a good Thai restaurant around the corner, join me for supper.” He extended his hand out to me. I stood there in my spot looking between him and his hand. “Come on.” He softly ordered and soon I walked up to him but just before I could take his hand, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me down the dark streets of Hell’s kitchen.

When we got to the restaurant, he ordered all the costumers to leave and told the workers to bring out everything they had and to not question my attire. I ate the last of my fried rice before sipping my water.

“Yep. Nothing like a nice meal after performing feats of vengeance.” He said to me.

“How do you know my mother?”

“Oh wow straight to business, okay fine. Guess I’ve kept you in suspense long enough.” He cupped the side of my face. “God you really do look so much like her when we first met. Same eyes, same mouth, even your skin feels like hers.” I got uncomfortable hearing that part. “Been 16 years late to say this but, (Y/n) Perry….the name’s Kilgrave, I’m your father.”

My heart stopped, my eyes widened and my head was swirling.

I quickly stood up but he ordered me.,

“Sit back down.” Immediately I sat back down and even scooted my chair back into the table, my eyes never once leaving him. “I know this is all a bit of a shock, believe me how do you think I feel? But it’s true.”

“How do you know? Any man could claim they’re my dad.”

“True. Most men could, but they can’t say they’ve got official records, can they?” he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his purple jacket and slid it over to me. “Go on, take it.” I took the paper and unfolded it to reveal what looked like an official copy of my birth certificate.

Now I have seen the copy my mom had but for some reason she had the name of the father blacked out. When I was younger, I did ask about my father but she always refused to tell me about him until one day she told me that he left us with nothing and wanted nothing to do with us.

But this certificate didn’t have my father’s name blacked out and there I saw his name. Kevin Thompson.

“Kevin Thompson is my legal name but I’ve longed forbidden anyone from calling me that.” He told me.

“It could’ve been forged. I have friends who could do this and make it legal.”

“You’re a smart girl, I’ll give your mother that much for not raising an idiot.” I narrowed my eyes and softly growled. “Stop that.” He ordered me as he then took out another piece of paper. “This here is an authentic, 100% guarantee DNA test. Performed by the Hell’s Kitchen ancestry agency. Don’t ask how I got yours just know I have my ways.” He handed me the paper which I took and opened it up.

According to the Ancestry and Family Bonds society of Hell’s Kitchen, the tests show that (Y/n) Perry and Kevin Thompson, provided DNA hair samples, are 99.998% a match.

I was in shock. I leaned against the chair dropping the paper to the ground as I said solemnly.

“She lied to me.” Kilgrave, who had gotten up and got himself some liquor from the back and poured himself a drink. “She told me that you abandoned us.”

“Not to speak ill of the dead, but your mother has been lying to you ever since she stole you away from me when she was pregnant with you.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked.

“Because she somehow believed that I would hurt the two of you. Listen to me (Y/n), hey,” he leaned forward cupping my face in his hands. “Your mother, through whatever delusion she thought, I never once hurt her. I loved her. I cared so much for her, I gave her the world. But then she—packed up and left me. And when she found out she was pregnant with you, she did everything in her legal power to keep me away from you.”

“You loved her?”

“She was the Éowyn to my Faramir. Both of us being kept back by society or mistreated by our families. I tried….everything in my power to see you but……but then I heard what happened to her.” Tears formed in my eyes as I tried to look away. “Ohh darling.” He wiped the tears hidden at the corner of my eyes as he gingerly shushed me. “I cannot imagine what was going through your head the day she was found. What your heart was feeling.”

“I was lost……broken……but mostly I was angry. I’m still angry. I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart. To make him feel every ounce of hurt he made me feel.” I first said solemnly before my sorrow turned to hate.

“And you believe this Wilson Fisk can give it to you?” he asked me.

“He promised me.”

“The way I see it. He can get you part of the way there. You may find the guy who did it, but you won’t get him to confess. He’ll deny it until he either dies without admitting it, or not share every last little thing he did to your mother. Things that only the killer himself knows.” I looked at him perplexed.

“You can teach me to do that?” he smiled softly and stroked a strand of hair out of my face.

“Isn’t that what all fathers do for their children? Help them achieve their goals.” He stood up and extended his hand out to me. I took it and he helped me stand up as I asked him how he could help me. “You can start, by getting rid of that.” He pointed to my neck.

I reached and touched the chain but clenched it in my hand refusing to let it go. It was my mother’s Evanstar necklace, I had taken it just before they buried her (Mahoney allowed me to take it after they recovered her remains instead of it being put into evidence).

“C’mon (Y/n). you need to let it go.” My hands reached back and I unclasped the lock and removed the necklace which showed the Evanstar pendant shining at me from the light. My father held out his hand and I set the necklace down in his palm before he put it away in his pocket. “That’s my girl. Now c’mere and give your father a hug like you mean it.” I ran into his arms and squeezed him as tight as I could. “I’m here now (Y/n). I’ll always be here.” He said to me as he embraced me just as tightly.

Soon I found myself being trained by my father in the act of ‘verbal persuasion’ or so he called it. It’s basically what he can do (after sharing with me the gruesome backstory of what his parents, my grandparents) did to him.

I tried my best but nothing I said to any of the volunteers he had set up for me followed my directions. And it would only be a matter of time before Fisk suddenly came back into the picture. When he had sent the cops he had under his thumb into father’s house, he ordered me to run and forget everything about our meeting but that he’d find me again soon when the time was right.

After fleeing from the house, I soon forgot just why I was running, the cops took me back to Fisk, I got a stern talking to but he sent me back out into the world. And of course you know the rest from there.

*End of flashback*

It was pitch black outside by the time we reached the cabin. Well when I say cabin it looked more like a castle. Multi-level (2-3 levels), clear glass windows, a grand balcony on the second floor that spread pretty much across the entire house, and a stone chimney and stone pillars that held it up from the floor to the grand balcony.

Father turned the car off and said.

“We’re here.” I looked at the cabin mansion and he asked me, “Too much? It is too much isn’t it.”

“No, no I—it’s lovely I just…..”

“Just what?”

“Will they find us? They’ll be looking for me. I-I shouldn’t have left.”

“Now, now relax, hey look at me.” He cupped my chin and forced me to look him in the eye. “They won’t find us. In fact they’ve forgotten all about your case. Remember what I told you I can do, what we can do.” My breath was shaky as I exhaled but nodded. “Let me hear you say it, it’s all taken care of.”

“It’s all taken care of.” I repeated.

“That’s my girl.” He then got out of the car and I followed behind him. As we rounded toward the cabin, I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders bringing me closer to him as we walked inside together.

Inside it was even grander than I could imagine. It was like living in a castle with all the expensive vases scattered around, the paintings and marble statues that looked like they belonged in a museum. A large staircase stood at the center of the living room.

“(Y/n) Perry, my pride and joy, I’d like to welcome you to your new home.” Said Father as he gestured to the manor. I looked around in awe as I walked along the grand living room.

“All of this is—”

“It’s all ours. Nothing’s too good for my girl, right? And speaking of, Ivy!” soon a woman in her mid-50’s maybe even early 60’s with short grey hair came out from the back hallway and she said.

“Yes sir?” her accent was thick, possibly she could’ve been from Ukraine or Russia.

“Take my daughter upstairs to her new room and have her change clothes. Make sure to burn this atrocious jumpsuit the pigs forced on her.” He said as he came up to me placing his hand on my shoulder and giving it a rub as well as a squeeze.

“Yes sir.” He looked down at me and I up at him.

“I expect to see you for dinner in 10 minutes.”

“Yes father.” I said as I walked towards Ivy and she lead me up the stairs and into my room.

My new room was twice as big than any of the apartment rooms I’ve had in the past. A large king sized bed, a large wooden wardrobe (that almost looked like it came from Narnia), some bookshelves with all my favorite books and authors, as well as some Tolkien collections like Bilbo’s party sign, the flag of Rohan hanging just over my bed, and some of my favorite character posters like Aragorn’s movie poster holding Andúril in front of him, Éowyn stabbing the Witch King of Angmar, and Merry and Pippin riding on Treebeard.

“Come Ms. Kilgrave, we best get you ready.” We walked in and I removed the orange jumpsuit as well as the white t-shirt and shorts I had also been given to wear. Ivy collected the prison clothes and wound them up into a ball to be burned just as father had commanded. She then went into the wardrobe and got out a beautiful red blouse with black leggings and black flats. “Your father wishes for you to look presentable at dinner.”

“Do you work for my father willingly? Or did he order you to do this?” I asked her.

“Your father has done me better than my previous job. Same with the rest of employees here. I was about to be evicted from my home and have my son taken away by Child Services because of our financial situation. Your father is a good man who just wants to help you, and I’d do anything to help him achieve that. From a mother to a father.”

I nodded and got on the clothes she had picked out and then she had me sit before a large mirror that almost looked to be silver and she began to brush my hair of the tangles and knots from my lack of sleep and stress I had been through the past few days.

Once I looked more presentable, she lead me back downstairs to a grand dining area with a large, long table and a roaring fireplace to the right of the table.

“Cutting it kinda of close aren’t we Ivy?” father said looking down at his phone before glancing back up at her.

“Sorry sir, it took a while to get her hair brushed and braided.”

“Are you criticizing my daughter?”

“No! No sir absolutely not!” she said worriedly.

“Leave us now.” He said. She nodded before immediately walking away. “C’mon, don’t be shy darling, come here so I can have a better look at you.” He said turning his chair toward me. I walked towards him and when I got close enough, he took my hand and moaned softly. “Now that’s much better, don’t you feel better without those horrid prison scrubs on?”

“Yes.”

“Take a seat, eat. Armani is serving up your favorite Italian dish.” Father said as I sat down beside him. Soon the chef Armani came out wheeling our food out on silver platters on a large tray. He set the platters down before us then removed the lids to reveal a beautifully made fettuccini alfredo with some breadsticks.

It smelled incredible and it made my mouth almost water. I reached out for the breadsticks first and took a single bite of them and immediately I fell into the pleasure of just how warm and soft this bread was. Within seconds the breadstick was gone and I went over to the alfredo.

“Someone was clearly hungry, just what is it they serve you in prison?”

“School food is worse.” Father softly laughed and said.

“I’ll bet it is. But no more of that now, just full on 5 star meals three times a day. Like I said, nothing’s too good for my best girl.” He reached out and stroked the back of my head. I paused my eating and felt my stomach turn in knots. “What’s wrong? Is it not prepared right? I swear if you end up sick, I’ll have Armani cut off each of his fingers one by one!” he threatened angrily.

“No, no the food’s wonderful father. The finest I’ve ever had, it’s just…..”

“Just what?” I looked away from him nervously. “Just what? Look at me and tell me (Y/n).” I looked up at him and said.

“What if the Kingpin stops us like last time? Or the police who aren’t under his thumb find us?”

“I told you darling, no one is going to find us. They’ve forgotten all about this case, now you just need to forget about it. Forget about what they’ve told you, who was involved, everything.”

“Even Jessica Jones?”

“Especially Jessica Jones.” I trailed off thinking about Uncle Matt, Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen.

“And my family?”

“Your family?” father questioned.

“Aunt Karen, Uncle Foggy and…..and uncle Matt. They were all involved with the case, do I have to forget about them too?”

“Yes. You don’t know those people anymore, they aren’t your family.”

“But—”

“Don’t!” he snapped angrily but caught himself and exhaled sharply. “The only family you have is me. Okay (Y/n)? There’s no Karen you know, no Foggy, what the hell kind of name is that anyways by the way? And above all else, there is no Matt Murdock you know. Do you understand?”

“Yes father.”

“Let me hear you say it.”

“There is no Karen Page, no Foggy Nelson, and no Matt Murdock that I know.” Father’s hands cupped the sides of my face and he said.

“That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you.” He pressed his forehead against mine and I felt his strength pour into me as my mind went blank from any memories I had of those three names until there was nothing left of them.

*3rd Person POV*

In Matt’s apartment, he was pacing back and forth in a panicked manner while Foggy and Karen sat on his couch and Jessica Jones was leaning up against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

“This can’t be happening. First Kingpin and now Kilgrave? I can’t even imagine who is worse to have her.” Karen said.

“I may not know Kingpin as personally as you guys but if I had to put my money somewhere, I’d prefer the kid be with him than with that manipulative son of a bitch.” Jessica said.

“But why? Why does he want her? At least Fisk had a reason even for as terrible of a reason it was, but how does Kilgrave fit into all of this?” Foggy asked.

“He’s right this doesn’t make any sense. What use could he have for (Y/n)?” Karen said.

“Think I found the reason.” Jessica said. “See I’ve been doing some digging into your kid’s mom, your former partner. Did any of you ever hear her speak of (Y/n)’s father?”

“No. She never liked to talk about it.” Foggy said.

“Yeah. One girl’s night we went out for drinks and I got curious about it and asked her but she kept trying to change the subject. She even got defensive about it telling me to drop—wait. Jessica you’re not saying……” Karen started off, then her investigative brain began to piece together where Jessica was going with it.

“What? What is it Karen?”

“Perhaps I better take over from here. So like I said, I did some digging into your partner’s past. Birthplace, credit card info, any property she’s bought or rented, everything and Murdock will you stop pacing like that?! You’re literally gonna fall through the way you’re stomping around like an elephant.”

“Stop? How can I stop when (Y/n) is out there being held hostage by someone even worse than Wilson Fisk!? Jones you promised me you’d keep an eye on her. You said you’d keep her safe!”

“And I did…..”

“Then where is she!?” Matt exclaimed frantically. “Because she’s not with Mahoney nor are you with her!? A prison riot allowed a man who has the ability to manipulate one’s mind and actions to his own will, come in and kidnap her! And the police can’t look for her because they were ordered not to! Those were your words right?”

“Look Murdock, I don’t like this anymore than you do. But pacing there festering in your pity anger and pointing the blame at me won’t help us find her quicker.”

“She’s right Matt. You hadn’t slept all night nor any time since this whole case opened up against (Y/n).” Foggy said. Matt exhaled sharply but trudged over to his chair and sat down in a huff.

“Talk Jones.”

“You’re lucky I’m letting the attitude slide this one time.”

“Talk!”

“Matt, easy. Go on Jessica.” Karen first eased Matt before turning back to Jessica. Jessica pulled out some files from her bag and pulled out some DNA test results, pictures of Kilgrave from over 17 years ago, and (Y/n)’s birth certificate.

“Seems your former partner had some secrets she didn’t want let out. Kilgrave is (Y/n)’s birth father.”

The three of them turned to Jessica in shock.

“Paternity and DNA tests were used by Kilgrave himself, don’t ask me how he managed to get a hold of hers you honestly don’t want to know. That creep always finds a way. But these documents of a restraining order against Kilgrave for one (M/n) Perry around the time when she would be pregnant with (Y/n) sealed it for me. I even managed to get a hold of some of the medical staff that helped deliver (Y/n). They told me how Kilgrave even showed up at the delivery to try and take (Y/n) away from her. But thanks to the approved restraining order, they immediately called the cops. Of course the bastard told them to shoot themselves before he could be taken away. That’s when SWAT was called and the hospital was forced to be on lockdown.”

“Oh Jesus.” Foggy muttered shaking his head solemnly. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror his deceased best friend had to go through in order to deliver (Y/n).

“How did they finally get him to leave if he can make anyone do what he wants?”

“Tranquilizer darts. If you ask me, they should’ve put a bullet through his head though. But of course the weasel wormed his way out of trial but then he never went after them again. Until a year and a half ago I took this picture of him with (Y/n).” she placed down a photo of the two of them at the Thai food restaurant. Karen picked up the picture and she said.

“This was taken around the time she was missing. When she was training with Fisk.”

“Seems the kid’s double dipped. Because she ended up staying with father-dearest for a good 2 months before your boy Fisk got her back.” Matt stood up and grabbed his cane and headed towards the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Jessica snapped but Matt didn’t respond, the only response he did give was the loud slam of his front door.

He walked out before hailing down a taxi and told the driver to go to the Hell’s Kitchen cemetery. The driver drove through the traffic, all the while Matt’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as so many thoughts were going through his head.

“You want me to help you find the tombstone you’re looking for sir?” asked the cab driver.

“Thanks for the offer but I got it. I—know her tombstone by touch.” After a few more minutes of weaving in and out of traffic, the cab driver soon arrived at the cemetery and Matt paid the cab driver his amount before getting out and walking forward.

Using his sense of touch he touched each and every grave stone (even though he remembered exactly where she was buried, but for the sake of those who were there, he kept up the facade). Until he finally felt the tombstone of the one he had been searching for. His former partner’s and best friend’s (M/n) Perry.

He fell to his knees before her tombstone as tears formed behind his red shades. His lip trembled as he said.

“I failed you.” He shook his head in regret. “You asked me to watch over her, and I—I failed you. I’m sorry (M/n). I know you had your reasons for not telling us about her father, but he—he has her. And I don’t know what to do. I know who he is but it—the only way to stop him is to kill him. And I can’t do that, I just can’t. I don’t know if you ever did know of who I am at night but I can’t kill him. Yet he must die.”

He knew Kilgrave and Fisk were two completely different people. Fisk may have had the power of persuasion but he only does it the way normally, rich powerful people can do it. Kilgrave, he’s practically on a mutant level of a threat. One word and he can have someone slice their throat or take another’s life. Hell that day when (Y/n) was born he could’ve had everyone, including (M/n) shot by the very police assigned to arrest him.

And people like him don’t go down so easily unless you call the Avengers, and he most certainly did not want that.

He reached out and touched her gravestone and stroked down it until he felt her name. “I know God won’t answer my prayers so I hope you can, please (M/n). I need a true angel on my side, what do I do now? Tell me what I need to do.”

But all he got was the soft whistle of the wind, other than that all was quiet. He shook his head angrily as he sighed heavily and gripped the grass beneath him before standing up and walked away.

All throughout the day both Jessica, Foggy and Karen were doing research in order to find just where Kilgrave could’ve taken (Y/n) all the while Matt was getting changed into his Daredevil suit to go out and look for her.

“Any of you ladies coming up with something?” asked Foggy.

“Nope.” Replied Karen.

“I’ve been hacking into the security cams all around Hell’s kitchen but I’m coming up with jack shit. Can’t find the car he drove in or anything. Slick bastard must’ve had someone delete them beforehand.” Right as Matt came out placing his gloves on and holding the mask underneath his arm Karen stood up and said.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait I think I got something.” Everyone gathered around her and she opened up a security footage from the Forest Lodge hotel in upstate New York. The very same cabin lodge where Kilgrave had taken (Y/n). “This was taken sometime last night. A man coming in carrying a huge suitcase. See there he is giving it to the manager. And next thing you see is the entire staff leaving the lodge.”

“That’s him. That is him the bastard. He must’ve bought the hotel and removed the staff. He pulled this move with me when he bought back my childhood home. The bastard’s grooming her.”

“We have to call Mahoney and get the police up there.” Foggy said.

“No it’s too risky. We can’t risk any innocent people getting killed or becoming killers themselves.” Jessica said.

“She’s right. I’ll go.” Matt said.

“By yourself?” both Karen and Foggy said.

“You can’t take him on by yourself Murdock, trust me. And with your whole ‘no kill code’ he’ll play you on that weakness.” Jessica said.

“Then maybe that’s what I have to do.” At hearing this, Foggy and Karen’s hearts sunk and they were taken back by what Matt had just said, while Jessica was stunned to hear such a confession from the ‘good catholic boy’ Matt Murdock.

“You can’t be serious Matt.”

“He’s not like Fisk, Foggy. He’s not powerful in the sense of money or who he is, he’s powerful for his power. Much like Jessica….”

“Do not compare that asshole to me!” Jessica snapped furiously.

“He was forced to have these powers. One word is all it takes for him just walk freely and no one would be able to question it. This is what (M/n) wanted of me to do to protect (Y/n).”

“But it was also to show her that revenge isn’t the answer!” Foggy snapped. “We’ll get her back Matt, but we need to think this through carefully.”

“I can’t wait anymore Foggy. I—I made a promise to her. To both Perry’s. I already lost one I—can’t lost another one. I can’t.” he put on his mask and without another word, he quickly raced up toward the staircase that led to the rooftop and left them in the dust.

“That stupid fucking idiot. He’s gonna get himself killed. I’ll go after him, you two stay here and call your detective friend Mahony but also get in touch with Hogarth. I don’t like the bitch but she’s got something that might help with the officers arresting Kilgrave safely, if he isn’t already dead.”

“We’re going with you!” Karen said.

“I already got one idiot out there, I don’t need two more. You two are clearly smarter than Murdock is right now. Look I know where his head’s at cause I’ve been there. And if Kilgrave can control him, he’s gonna need me to snap him out of it. If by some miracle he can’t control Murdock, god save him from the wrath of the Devil that’s coming for him.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But it’s nothing compared to the fury of a father willing to do anything for his child.” Foggy said. “Ever since we first met her, Matt’s always been closer to (Y/n) than I have. I always see the way he looks at her, talks about her. He loves her like she was his own daughter, and ever since (M/n) died, he always kept saying how he promised her that he’d protect her. Be the parental figure she has left.”

“Cute. But it’s logic like that that’ll get you killed. When you’re not thinking clearly. Now both of you. Stay here! I mean it!” Jessica then left through the front door and quickly raced out of the apartment and followed Matt’s trail to Upstate New York.

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ramrage · 1 year

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fic concept: "dear simon"

ive been playing with the idea of writing a fic but it's told entirely through the pages of soap's journal, which have at some point become a collection of letters to ghost. of course he's never going to give them to ghost. he just needs a way to puzzle out their interactions because ghost is a cryptic pain in the ass and does he hate me or like me what's going on?

it definitely is chock full of limitations, but were i able to work around them and somehow make it benefit the narrative, it would be electric. the "truth" wouldn't matter or exist at all. it would be limited to soap's perception, colored by overthinking and shame/embarrassment despite trying to write something completely honest and for his eyes only.

shit i wrote at 3am below the cut. any suggestions/crit/feedback would be GREAT (plsplspls)

Dear Simon,

Yer never gonna read this. I’ll probably take a match to it when I’m done because yer a sneaky bastard and writing all this makes me feel like a cunt. I take to my journal, have been forever, to make my thoughts more real, yknow? not sure why i’m explaining myself to ye like yer ever gonna read it…

You’ve been getting on my last bleeding nerve, is the thing. Not like yer doin anything out of the ordinary for yerself. just the normal mysterious, aloof, fucken terrifying thing you do. with the stupid mask. fucken. i just didn’t know that /your thing/ also involved making fucken shite jokes bein endearing not as terrifying as i took ye fer. and that’s grand, except when you’re not being that way and i’m left to wonder how things went tits up.

i remember meeting you. they told me ye were some big scary fucker, and ye were, jesus, but i wanted to crack ye. after graves turned and left us to claw outta las almas, i thought i was. i didnae think ye’d wait for me, didnae think ye’d be in my ear with some of the most shite jokes i’d ever heard, but ye were. made me wanna push ye. see yer limits. i’ll be honest, i was full on with callin ye a good ol boy and tellin ye to take yer mask off. sorry bout that. but ye coulda shut me up and i know ye wouldnae struggle to. so i thought i found a boundary.

but you’ve been short with me all week. today, ye fucking head case, i do nothin more than nudge ye in the gym, tell ye yer liftin light + ye come at me like ye got a stick up yer arse. not even a quip back. whatdye say? some bullshite about respecting your superiors, /mactavish/. ye didnae strike me as a man who gave a quarter shite about vanity lifting and ye still don’t. im probably making somethin outta nothin and i dinnae ken why i even give a damn, give a damn enough to write it out like a wee fucken lovesick school girl, but here i am. i’ve not cared about people liking me for bleedin ages. and people tend to like me, no? charming and handsome bastard that i am.

maybe i don like thinking i can’t figure you out. yer rank pulling stunt has me wanting to punch the head clean off ye, but i still think i can crack ye. it’d do ye some good, lt. i told ye as much in las almas, and i meant it. not sure if ye got it, though.

well. i’ve not got anything left to tell ye, not today, and my hands are cramping somethin awful so i’ll sign off. until next time, ye jackarse.

notes to the readers that might exist:

in addition to literally any feedback you have, i have some specific questions about bits im particularly unhappy with/insecure about. but dw bout being too harsh or honest, i was in writing workshops (you wouldnt be able to tell smh) with liberal arts students with something to prove so my skin has been thickened yk. if by the grace of god you wanna beta pls lmk and ill have a child just so i can give you my firstborn xx

how do we feel about the strikethroughs? personally i think they can help me say shit that i want the reader to know but dont think johnny completely means or is ready to say

should i push details like that which reinforce that this is written by hand? like shorthand, writing + instead of "and"

i put slashes around things that i would otherwise italicize bc that's what i do when i journal. does it work? what would work better?

should the entries include dates?

how severely does it sound like an american trying to sound scottish lol? lmk what works/doesn't work im dying out here

i have an idea for the last chapter (despite not having a plot) and tbh it's predictable as hell but it could be zesty (;

#idk how to write it out as far as word choice either #like would he write shit like something off of scottish twitter 'yer right moira im oan the protein' or would it be''''proper english'''''?#and how much would he describe things? does a story even need that?#how honest would he let himself be? all very big questions #also my knowledge of how scottish people speak is beyond limited and probably bastardized by irish/english turns of phrase #so maybe i shouldnt even bother with that #but thn again if he wrote in his journal like an american asshole writes (comma) that would be dishonest #internal mw2 #ghost x soap #mine

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karmasaidurturn · 7 months

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I learned of Intervention Mapping today.

Bare with me here:

I got diagnosed about 7ish years ago with HIV- thought god was punishing me for things I had done prior to then. So I chose not take meds.That led to AIDS in the hospital with a t-cell count of 24, crypto meningitis, pneumonia in both lungs and an upper respiratory infection. I had saved up money for open enrollment and payed for my own insurance and deductibles for a while till I got on Ryan White (god bless).

Nothing to be proud of, just saw meaning and thought i could help… eventually.

I knew then I still had issues. Mainly the mixing of sex and drugs. I knew that if I were to ever be in a relationship I would have to express these things upfront because of how detrimental it was to me.

Not because i wanted attention for it. Not because i wanted to come off as a “ survivor “.

(Pfft, survivor of my own mistakes maybe)

Truth is having HIV is no different than having to take an anti-depressant everyday. So I would vocalize it to try and change the stigmas and misinformation that’s perpetuated.

I learned to grow my own fungi ( exotics) and it was able to kick the habit for a while.

And that’s how/when I met my ex. I brought my lunchbox over to her friends and expressed that they helped me out of depression and drug addiction. They asked why depressed, so I told them the truth.

And would you believe that her dad ( who had recently passed) also had the damn diseases. Her receptiveness turn me into a pup in a matter of seconds. Not only was she beautiful but understanding and what seemed caring.

All false I now presume. See the very next day she told me very sternly that if we were to be a couple that I would have to stop being to vocal about it because of how it reflects on her. Only for the following week to say, “let’s show the world its possible”. Confused but I thought it was love.

Knowing first hand the shame that society tends to give I wouldn’t wish it on her. Mainly I heard “ we’re a couple”. I caved then. Lost track there and then.

Did I mention she is ten years older than me?

And in retrospect, with a chip on her shoulder.

Never would I have thought it was a set up by people who think they are doing good.

Intervention mapping - more tomorrow- I want to go do drugs and not take meds more so today than ever.

Bottom line: I was honest and upfront to people who under guise of “greater good” have with intention hurt me. Watched and mocked my suffering. Nothing will bring back your dead. It isn’t my fault you didn’t cherish them while you had them. Not my fault they chose not to wrap it up aswell.

You know I’ve been thru worse. You know I can admit my wrongs - even hold my own feet to the fire-no fleeing spaniard required-

What you call gold I wipe my ass with and If I were related to you I would’ve unalived myself aswell. Knowing your motivation to care is only to keep a false image of you alive.

“I’ve slithered with the snakes and soared with the eagles and everything in between. And I can tell you nobody likes a quitter. “- Randy Macho Man Savage

It seems you folks quit loving and caring long ago.

Do you even know yourselves? Emulating the same pointless tattoos and piercings. Afraid of making mistakes. Being wrong! Starting anything.

I’m broken because I gave it my all. If we weren’t meant to be codependent then we would all just go fuck ourselves and shit kids.

I love you all because you only further reassured what I already knew. We are all suffering and nobody wants to help one another. We ignore our own problems with trying to shame others of theirs.

You have become the “monsters” you are trying to prevent from existing.

For the record. Blood work done last week. I’m fine. Those herpes you got on that blonde kool-aid tasting pussy of yours- not from me.

I use my real name on here. I own everything about me. I don’t love it all but I don’t run or put on masks.

I know I can’t expect someone to love me until I love myself. You don’t even accept who you are and what needs to change. How can you possibly prevent anything? Do you even know the process of anything?

Intervention mapping is a business plan- not a solution. Take the money and run.

Wait till I tell you about the invasion of privacy-

I’m talking shell company in caymans. By-passing us law. Accessibility to and manipulation of services one pays for. Fake apps. Fake profiles. Literal redirects. Oh and in some cases privately founded and supported by states authority.

Meaning they thought I was infecting people and still the cops did not protect and serve. But it’s okay for our attorney general “conservative” to cheat on his wife and do favors for a campaign donor.

Let’s start mapping his intervention. Or maybe just be kinder to one another.

Mush love- because I can’t afford to hate any longer.

No Jesus required.

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dornish-queen · 3 years

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GQ MEXICO - PEDRO PASCAL 2021

It seems that Pedro Pascal is in all possible universes. Here and there. In the past, in the present, and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great entertainment reference and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Enough reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he traumatized his father in 30 seconds.

The RAE defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or a group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And also one can put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the path to follow, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. Turning the pages of the script for The Mandalorian , the Disney + series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise , Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection carved his way.

More than two decades have passed since the Chilean-American, Pedro Pascal, began his acting career and today, named as the great reference of 2020 , he misses the theater and it still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a diet sana while acknowledging the irony of having the best year of her career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried the best-selling Christmas baby rescues many positive things and shares his vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies and how to traumatize your family with a simple scene of TV. In an interview, the Mandalorian of Latinamerica.

IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. How was living your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from it?

The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I do find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during it, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must emphasize that this loneliness is a privilege when many people had to continue working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We only had to be alone, but they more than that and you must value it too.

Among the activities you have missed, how much do you miss the theater?

Much indeed. It's something that I miss the most and being with people without being afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That is what I need most, in addition to my loved ones.

Disney fully entered streaming and its strong letter has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?

There are incredible things in streaming and many people develop great projects that they did not have access to before. The diversity of voices is gaining ground and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and boundaries change. It is incredible the availability that we have to very well made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of watching content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. You have to achieve a mix of opportunities and challenges.

You jump between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until you reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you summarize the essence of this legendary story?

For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It is one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was less than two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga ; it becomes one of those romantic childhood things that opens your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian perfectly understand this nostalgia and that power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the world of Star Wars and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. (From which we expect the third season The Mandalorian)

The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?

I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theater preparation, which was very physical on all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with and that are essential to create a role, and they teach you that the voice is something primary, something you have to start with and you cannot hide. Now I have learned much more about the importance of that, and how to use it economically. The body also has to do with that, because something very subtle communicates something. In The Mandalorian , I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense at it.

What happens to the ego when someone works under a suit and a mask?

In the conversations about the project, before doing it, we were communicated the idea and the concept of the entire season , so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so there was no point in involving my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character , the piece that it represented for him and the opportunity that it was for me, so I was only focused on executing in a better way the part that touched me in everything this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.

It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base ...

Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, doing a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate , being part of a whole image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined that it would be something I would have to use on such an important Star Wars project .

On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau should be added to the list?

I think your name is already included. Without a doubt, it is in that category and it is incredible. His vision fascinates me. I remember an episode in the second season , and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, it stuck to them. He figured it out, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're out in the snow. They approached me and gave me new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and it is repeated to scale in every session with him. He thinks of absolutely everything and his vision of the use of technology is admirable. He is someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.

One of the reflections in the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and way of life. What makes you break with your beliefs?

I think that you must follow your heart so as not to regret anything; Although sometimes it brings pain or conflict, deep down when you look back, everything is worth it because it was what you heard in your heart. I am very afraid to deny that feeling or not to attend to it. I am 45 years old now and I cannot believe I have a finer philosophy. Make it more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and it's all I can say, "follow your heart." Although, you know, I'm not on a good diet yet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.

Still good at Chilean empanadas?

Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I do not live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to defe just to eat.

I want to deviate and ask you, with whom did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what traumas did you cause in your family?

For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters , although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you that it was not. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? Me lying there, with pieces of my meat, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. For them there is nothing funny but traumatic. My dad's voice changed completely when we saw the episode, he turned around and said: “I didn't like it, Pedro . No, Pedro , not this ”.

The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When playing a character with characteristics like this, do you humanize him or do you understand him?

The project had nothing to do with the former president. They always told me that my character in Wonder Woman: 1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took that as far as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more to work with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story that is being told and there is always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "blowing her out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling his story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.

What a way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol ... How do you perceive that moment?

I am not a politician and it is not that I do not have an opinion about this type of event; however, it is not necessary to state the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I believe that I am next to the majority who experienced this, which is the logical result of what we have experienced during these years and we are all horrified . It was distressing to see this violence.

If you had the monolith in your hands, what would your wish be?

My wish would be… it's impossible, really (laughs). I think it is to be together again, with less fear and that people have the opportunity to connect.

What is your position on the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?

It is something that I am developing and I continue to do in my life, trying to understand that it is my home. To be in Chile is to be at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it is strange, I do not feel with the title of a complete Chilean identity nor with an American one.

Neither here nor there?

In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chilean , my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I came back sometimes because my family is very large; in fact, my parents came back. It has always been there, it continues to develop, and it will be a part of me. I don't know if it answers your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.

What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Are you interested?

Much, it has invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies that I carry in my heart, seeing something like Y tu mama was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile , and the only thing I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.

Today you have a comedy with Nicolas Cage on the door, can you tell us something?

It's my first shot at comedy , as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences , in the 80s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage appeared , he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.

How is the relationship you have with the comedy genre?

I love it, I have done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television issues , I was always part of drama castings . And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; Although I identify with one or the other, I think that being an actor , one goes and does what one has to do. Comedy is something unique, it is very challenging because it must be very real to be funny, you cannot hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.

Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream about when you sleep?

I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven is on and all that stuff. Sure, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects , although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day that you can imagine.

Without a doubt, Pedro Pascal is a particular type .

English Tranlation: Google Translate

SOURCE: GQ MEXICO

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #gq mexico #Articles

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glassartpeasants · 3 years

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Like Father, Like Son

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, mentions of needles

A/N: This is a post based on a head cannon made by @yandereacademia which you can see here. I promise I will continue the DDLC AU but I needed to get this angst outta my system because I’ve been really stressed lately lol. Also the original storyline is kinda bumped up to fit the story

~~~

The only reason you were with the sociopath called Overhaul is because of a stupid mistake you made about 5 months ago. If you could go back in time you would’ve never drank that much until you were blackout drunk. You had somehow managed to sleep with the germophobic man after you both crossed paths when you both were blackout drunk. Which leaded where you are now. In the Shie Hassakai base, pregnant with his child.

Once you showed him the test he demanded- no, MADE you quit your old job ad live in the base with him. Not in his room of course.Who knows what germs you could be carrying! You don’t get special treatment even if you are the mother of his child. And If we’re being honest, he doesn’t really see it as his child. More like an heir. How else would the Shie Hassakai live on?

He doesn’t even see you that often. He sends either Chrono or Mimic to look after you. Sometimes Setsuno. You liked Setsuno since he actually treated you like a human rather than a burden. Chrono was a bit better than mimic. Mimic was just a plain ass.

Your entire pregnancy was all about check ups. Healthy food, did I mention checkups? It was almost every Tuesday and Friday that he made you come into a little doctors room and inspect you and give you ultrasounds. You felt more like an incubator rather than a mother, but you digress. Once you got the news that the child was a boy you bet your ass Overhaul was way more worried about you than he originally was.

You wanted to run really. You saw what horrible things Overhaul had done. You didn’t want your child to end up like Eri or to turn into a shit human being like Overhaul. You wanted your child to grow up compassionate and kind, not a stone cold murderer with no remorse for human life.

Maybe once your child is born you can teach him those things in secret...

~~~

2 years after the child is born

You were right, Overhaul wanted nothing to do with the baby until it was old enough to be taught the ways of the yakuza. He wasn’t even impressed when the baby started talking and walking! You wanted to yell, scream, argue, and just hurt the man in general. A child needs support, not a unimpressed look everytime they do an accomplishment.

You always supported your son. Showing him how proud you were whenever he handed you a drawing of him and you. Overhaul barely even saw the kid which affected him to the point where the kid didn’t even draw him in pictures.

You were happy that your baby didn’t see/look up to Overhaul as a fatherly figure. Man didn’t deserve to be called one or be one. You were worried if Overhaul would use your son as a experiment like he was using Eri.

Speaking of Eri, you finally convinced Overhaul to let you see her and comfort her after he used her for the bullets. She was such a sweetie and especially loved how you would sing her to sleep whenever she has a bad day. You didn’t get to see her a lot, but you did what you could when you did. If only you could make Overhaul see what he was doing to everyone around him...

~~~

Your son just turned 8

Everyday your son looked more and more liked his father. Not to mention he inherited Overhaul’s quirk It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it weren’t for the fact that he started looking up to his father. Whenever your so was getting put to bed by you, he would always tell you about how much he wanted to be the next leader. He would tell you how he watched Overhaul to paperwork, sat next to him in meetings and such. The finally straw for you was when he told you that Overhaul let him use his quirk on a living breathing human being. To say you were furious was an understatement. All you saw was red.

You smiled at the boy before pressing a kiss to his head and walking out his door while whispering goodnight before your started your expedition to give Overhaul a piece of your mind. You’ve stayed quiet for to long. You couldn’t just let him expose your child to such violence at such a young age! All you saw was red as you walked to his office door. Giving it a harsh knock you were allowed entry.

Upon entering you notice that you are the only one there with him. Just the two of you. You were afraid yes, but your anger out did it.

“Did you seriously let our son use his quirk on someone at such a young age?! He’s only 8! He doesn’t need to be exposed so early!” You yelled at him with your hands on your hips. You knew if you pointed at him you could say goodbye to that finger.

“He’s going to be the next leader. It’s only natural to start him off early. And I don’t remember giving you a say in the matter.” His voice cold and stoic but a hint of annoyance caught your ears.

“8 is way to early! Please Overhaul, Just give me 2-3 more years without him experiencing what you do.” You begged him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You only wanted what was best for your son. Your heart stopped when you heard Overhaul get up from his desk and his footsteps come near your now slightly shaking form.

“Bold of you to assume I would let him miss out on very needed skills to become the next leader. We both know that if it weren’t for him, you would have been dead the second i found out I slept with you. That boy is the only thing that kept you alive. So, from now on, I expect you to never come to my face. Talking about him needing to be kind and compassionate, is not the way of the yakuza. One more incident like this, than I’ll make him kill you myself.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the man in front of you. You can feel your blood run cold in your veins as it circulates through your body. Tears streaked down your face as you felt so defeated. Your entire body felt like you’ve been crushed by a car.

You turned around and walked out the door and into your room. Locking the door your jumped onto your bed, grabbing the pillow before screaming into it. Your tears stained the pillow case as your body shook. You felt so hopeless and so helpless. Where was a hero when you truly needed one?

~~~

The next day

You were just finished changing before your son barged into your room. You were about to say good morning to him before he started screaming at you. Shocked you told him to calm down, but in the corner of your eye you saw the purple feathers that you have learned to fear walk by.

“What are you saying? Please calm down!” You say as you try to soothe your screaming child.

“How dare you try and take me away from dad! Dad told me everything!” Your son flailed his arms up and down while stomping on the ground. His screams soon turned incoherent.

“Baby! I would never-”

“Liar! Dad told me that you wanted to leave him! He said that you thought he didn’t deserve a son!” You didn’t say that what was he on?! You only wanted to protect him! You loved your son to the point you would die for him! What had Overhaul said to him!

“Please sweetie calm down-”

“No! I never want to talk to you again!” Your son ran out the door before slamming it shut. Your heart felt shattered as you heard Overhauls voice on the other side, ’calming’ your distressed son. You felt your world crumbling around you as your son was the only thing that kept you happiness in these dark times. Him and Eri. Oh Eri, if he grows up that means...

You felt vomit rise in your throat at the thought of your own son hurting such a sweet, innocent, little girl. You fall to your knees as tears spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t just run away from the Shie Hassakai ever. The base is fully guarded, and has high max security cameras. Not to mention the probability of them finding you and your son right away. If you even tried, you would probably get you and your son hurt. Maybe even little Eri.

Your whole body felt numb. You just wished it was a horrible nightmare.

~~~

5 months later

As the weeks pass by, you felt your hurt break more and more everyday. Your son had kept his word when he said he ever wanted to talk to you again. You haven’t heard your baby's voice since that day. Hell, now you barely even see him! You see Eri more than your actual son now. ANd seeing Eri was not that often.

You felt hopeless. You wanted nothing more to do than crawl in a hole and die. Every night was spent crying over your son and how your life and gone so down hill so quickly. You didn’t even feel like moving. You just sat in the corner of the room since it felt like the only warm spot in the entire room. This little corner felt like some sort of sanctuary in this horrible place you call home.

~~~

Your son just turned 13

Day whatever of the last time your son talked to you. And day whatever since you’ve left your room. You had no reason anymore. Overhaul officially banished you from ever seeing Eri again. Your world was crushed once more. At this point you felt like your whole existence was useless.

Your days grew darker by the minute as your mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. You only ever moved when you needed to go to the bathroom or to drag the food plate that was brought to you by some employee of Overhaul. You barely ate anything anyways so you really saw no point in doing anything anymore.

It only hurt more knowing that today was his birthday. You had asked the employee that brought you food if he had a party or just something to celebrate. You felt the last of your hope crushed once you heard his answer.

“The only thing he got was a official Shie Hassakai mask.”

~~~

Your son turned 15

You body was weak. You had refused to eat anything seeing no point in it anymore. You were always tired. Only getting up to go to the bathroom then sitting back in the corner that once gave you sanctuary.

You heard footsteps on the outside of your door as the familiar voice of Overhaul was on the other side. Another voice rang in your ears and it hit you like a train once you realized who’s it was. It was your sons. His voice was so much deeper than the little boy’s you had once heard. It only deepened your sadness. You blinked but didn’t even turn your eyes once you heard the door opening.

“We can test the serum out on her first. She’s too weak to fight back.”

“I didn’t know my mother had a quirk.” You couldn’t even make your eyes turn to look at them. You didn’t want to see the monster your son had become. Your heart couldn’t take anymore heartbreak, You felt like you would crumble into nothing.

You felt a light get shine into your eyes. You didn’t even blink during it. Once the light was gone you got a clear look at your once loving son. A mask covered his face just like his fathers did. He looked you in the eyes and you did the same. You wanted to cry but held it down.

A latex hand grabbed your arm before you felt the needle being poked into it. You didn’t even flinch or wince. Almost as if you were a lifeless doll. A hand moved up and down your face as if to see if you were even alive or ‘there’.

“She isn’t responding to anything. She didn’t even wince. She’s breathing but she looks like she’s sick.” All that was one ear and out the other. Finally you felt the needle leave your arm as a sigh escaped Overhaul’s lips.

“Well wait for about an hour or two and see the effects. For now, we have to do more tests on Eri. Lets go.” So...he was apart of the team experimenting on Eri. You felt like throwing up. How could the boy who you raised to be kind and compassionate turn into such a disgusting monster.

The sound of their footsteps leaving the room hit your ears. From the corner of your eye you say your son about to leave before you spoke up,

“You are not my son.” You saw him stop in his tracks as he turned to look at you. His eyes a bit wide but said nothing.

“I never want to hear you call me your mother ever again. Your a monster undeserving of one. I can’t believe I gave birth to someone like you. I never want ot see your face again.” In your monotone words they’re were spikes laced in venom. You couldn’t even look your own son in the eyes. As they we’re the same as his monster of a father.

“Get out of my room and never come back.” You heard him close the door slowly as you let out a breath once you finally saw him gone. You can barely stand to see the monster your child had become. But, you didn’t see nor hear the way his breathing became ragged. Or how his eyes felt like spilling tears. Or how his body slowly shook at your words.

‘It shouldn’t hurt. This shouldn’t hurt me. Why does it hurt so bad? Please stop it. Her words shouldn’t affect me. Why does it hurt?’

#overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #mha #bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #mha angst #bnha angst #kai #angst #yakuza

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dash-the-guitar-ghoul · 2 years

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Ghost OC Week Parts 4, 5 and 6

April 6th - Somewhere in between - What steps did this character take to get to where they are now? Feel free to choose a specific time/era to focus on and describe what your oc was doing.

Fuck, I'm behind again...

Well, I guess I can start with how I got to were I am now. My life obviously changed for the better when I met Swiss, but it wasn't just him that made my life better..he taught me how to be better for myself, not just for him.

Before we got together, I was a mess. The best thing I did was to tell Dew to fuck off, but I still worked for him and still held a grudge towards him and my self esteem was shit.

But probably one of the worst times of my life was when I got involved with two people in a row that were completely unavailable. First…was Mountain's boyfriend. I thought I was in love with him so I kept pursuing him, I didn't give a shit about Mountain and I realize now that I was being incredibly jealous. Unfortunately, it led to both me and Mountain losing the one we loved when he decided to leave the church. I still feel bad about that sometimes, but Mountain has forgiven me at least.

The next was someone I, luckily, was able to stay friends with, but probably just because I didn't let him know that I had feelings for him. His name was @brother-raul (made by @popias-gloves ) he was one of the prettiest humans I had ever see. Problem was that he was already desperately in love with a man who eventually became his husband, @father-iosif . (made by @sushiwestern )

To be fair to myself though, Raúl also made the mistake of getting involved with me, but we only were together a couple of days while Iosef was gone on some dangerous mission (it's a long story, but he's quite the dangerous guy if he wants to be.) To make this a short story, Raúl was distraught and lonely when his lover was away and I was still hurting over the last guy and well..we fucked. I suppose that's why we ended up friends, we used to be kinda similar like that and had a tendency to turn to self destructive means when we were having a hard time. I personally liked to fuck the pain away but, not like it ever really worked though. And in this case, it made it worse to be honest.

I think that might have been why Raúl got in some trouble the day after..or maybe he was just trying to be good and stay away from me, I don't know. But, he went out to a bar with some red headed fuck and damn near got himself killed when someone drugged him. Luckily they were able to get out of there, but Raúl was in really bad shape and wouldn't wake up. I think I stupidly told Raúl I loved him when he couldn't hear me as I sat at his bedside, but now that I look back on it..I was just so lonely that I just latched on to anyone that gave me affection. That's probably why I damn near sacrificed myself to heal him when I thought I was going to lose him.

Luckily everything turned out ok, I didn't die, Raúl was forgiven (eventually), and it took an all out fight between me and Iosef that made me realize I should probably keep away from Raúl for a bit. Obviously, I met Swiss eventually, so once I wasn't a threat, Iosef sort of warmed up to me, but I think he does still keep one eye on me sometimes lol.

April 7th - Where are they now? - How is this character doing with the current state of events for Ghost? Do they like Impera? How do they feel about Papa Emeritus IV?

As for how I am right now..well, the album turned out pretty great. Me and Swiss are better than ever, especially after a little involuntary trip to Hell and back.

However, I will still never forgive Papa for coming up with those ridiculous as fuck masks he makes Swiss and my friends wear during rituals. I really don't know how in the hell he came up with that idea, but I hate them. Luckily, we don't have to wear them much when at home, but it still annoys me. He's been acting kinda weird since he became Papa..I don't know what's going on with him. Maybe it's Sister Imperator, but..who knows.

April 8th - Endings - How do you think this oc’s story will conclude? Where do you expect this character to be in ten years? Will they have a happy ending?

I'm gonna leave this one to my creator because I don't know my own future..

As for how Dash's story will end, I'm not sure. I would like for him to be able to start his own band and have some success, but as a ghoul, there is obviously only so much he can do. It would be nice if I could have him and Swiss maybe have some online success together. Maybe release some songs in their human form. Or, considering how much I am getting into Vtubers, it would be kinda fun to see Dash as a Vtuber avatar, and little would his fans know, he actually kinda looks like that in real life lol.

At the moment, I've been adapting Dash to other worlds outside of the Ghost fandom, even if his life will forever be connected to Ghost.

I've brought him to the Red Rising book fandom. (pictured below in art by @sushiwestern ) Even Swiss got to join him there but it was basically a reason for me to have more adventures with Swiss and also to pair Dash with my favorite in the books, Tactus au Valii-Rath (the man on the right of Dash.)

And eventually I want to have him drawn as a Kindred who belongs to my favorite Vtuber, Vox Akuma.

He adapts so well to many different fandoms so I will probably make him join more in the future.

(added an image of Vox because he's pretty and if you understand Vox, you can understand how Dash would fit well with his aesthetic lol)

#ghostbcocweek2022 #ghostbcfandomevents #swisstopher #multi ghoul #swiss army ghoul #swiss ghoul #the band ghost #ghost band #the band ghost oc

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter. He has an appointment to keep, after all. Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”. For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere. Kinetic motion trapped in amber. Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.

And now it was Thursday. She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth. It was likely wasted vanity. As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring. Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment. Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily. It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner. She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously. “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today. His clothing, certainly. Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again. And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow. A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course. Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair. “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year. An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried. “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling. Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons. Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients. While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired. Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased. “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation. “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these. I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you. I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much. He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk. Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs. Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred. In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse. Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing. I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange. Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be. She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected. “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening. Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people. She made a living reading their unspoken cues. Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye. Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland. She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.

International financier. Self-made entrepreneur. Tall drink of water. James Fraser had a lot of things going for him. And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes. His father’s recent death. The reason behind a radical change in career. Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry. There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling. But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own. Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances. His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end. His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown. She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last. “Tae be honest, it haunted me. Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me. An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out. I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words. Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut. Just another charming rake, after all. It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did. More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm. What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room. Instead, he spun around to face the door. Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent. Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma. The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated. “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch. A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in. She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk. Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here. Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded. There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized. “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously. Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend. She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister. Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment. She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door. There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye. I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

#my writing #outlander

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cowboy-eddie · 3 years

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Tumblr Exclusive: Dodged A Bullet

(No, not that one. We’re not talking about that one)

(That’s kinda ironic though and COMPLETELY unintentional and now I can’t change the title lmao)

Since I would rather laugh than cry, here’s a stupid little fic about one time when Chris picked up on a saying going around the firehouse and the person he got it from? You won’t expect it.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“He’s definitely got a tiny dick.”

Eddie gaped, looking at Christopher through the rear view mirror. Stuck in LA traffic, already ten minutes late to work, and some idiot had just cut Eddie’s truck off on a particularly dangerous highway. Eddie slammed on the breaks, honking his horn before turning to look at Christopher in the backseat.

“Did you want to repeat what you just said, buddy?”

“That guy who cut you off, dad. He has a tiny dick.”

It was really hard for Eddie not to laugh. Sighing, he reached into the backseat.

“Switch please. You know better than to say rude words like that.”

Christopher handed over the device and Eddie tossed it on to the passenger seat, tucked under his duffel bag. It wasn’t until he’d managed to drop Chris off at school and get to work that Eddie remembered what Christopher had said in the traffic, and he immediately went looking for the one person Christopher would copy without hesitation.

-~-

“Buck!”

“Ah shit. I know that face.”

Buck put his phone in his back pocket, grimacing at Eddie.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why did my ten year old just say the person who cut me off in traffic has a tiny dick?”

Buck’s eyebrows shot up and Eddie could see the corner of his lips twitching.

“Man, you know you have to watch what you say near him, he’s at the age-“

“-Eddie, I swear, that wasn’t me. I have never sworn in front of Christopher.”

“Last week you literally said, and I quote, ‘son of a bitch Eddie, can you NOT stick your fucking cold feet on my legs?’”

“That doesn’t count, I didn’t know he was there! He’s sneaky when he’s not using his crutches.”

Buck raised his hands in surrender.

“It wasn’t me who taught Chris to say that. I swear.”

Eddie sighed, mainly in defeat because he knew Buck was telling him the truth. Turning on Hen and Chim, he put his hands on his hips and did his best dad-frown, which just made Chim laugh.

“I know you’re trying to dad-glare us, but it just looks like you’re really constipated.”

Hen snorted, shoving her elbow into his side.

“It wasn’t us, Eddie. Neither of us have driven Christopher anywhere recently.”

“Well it was one of you!”

“It wasn’t one of us, Eddie. Chill out, kids do this stuff all the time.”

Chim waved Eddie off, but Eddie had a comeback of his own.

“When Jee starts swearing, I’ll remember that.”

“Oh my god, Jee is gonna swear. My little girl is gonna let filthy words rip when she’s pissed off. I have to call Maddie.”

Chim looked disturbed for a second and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“If it wasn’t one of you, I’m gonna have to question people I’d really rather not.”

“Like who, your grandma?” Chim asked, apparently having recovered from his temporary crisis. The second he realised what he’d said Hen smacked a hand over his mouth, laughing at her idiot for a best friend.

“Well yeah, Chim, like my grandmother. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her even utter a cuss word.”

“I don’t think your grandma knows what swearing is, Eds.”

“Oh, she does, but she’s always the one to tell us off. One time my dad said crap and she chased him for ten minutes with a wooden spoon.”

Eddie winced absentmindedly, seemingly remembering something.

“You can imagine her reaction when 15 year old me said Fuck.”

Buck grinned, getting up to press a hand to Eddie’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Chris was gonna pick up on it at some point. It’s not like you don’t swear.”

“That’s different. He said someone had a tiny dick, Buck.”

That did it. Hen, Chim and Buck snickered together and Eddie couldn’t even pretend to be pissed as he started laughing with them.

“I’m gonna have my hands full when he’s a teenager right?”

“Yes,” Hen and Buck said simultaneously.

-~-

“Abuela, Pepa, can I ask you a question?”

“We’ve already had the talk, Eddie,” Pepa said seriously as she took a seat at the dining talk and Eddie flushed red, groaning as he remembered his parents refusing to give him the talk so Pepa had done it. Being the only boy of his family and receiving the talk from his aunt was definitely something Eddie would rather forget.

“Thank you, Pepa, I’ll never let that go. No, uh, it’s about Christopher.”

“Oh, Edmundo, he said something interesting yesterday. I can’t remember what it was...”

Abuela furrowed her brows for a moment, trying to recall what her great-grandson had said and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Were you in the car by any chance?”

“No, we were in the grocery store. Someone was being rude in the queue, a man wasn’t wearing his mask...”

“Oh my- Abuela, I-“

Eddie’s Abuela’s lips quirked up, and she laughed.

“Oh, yes, young Christopher has a brilliant imagination.”

“I’m so sorry Abuela, I had no idea he’d picked up the saying. I’ve had a talk with him-“

“-what saying? He simply told the man if he didn’t want to wear his mask then he wouldn’t get any presents for Christmas.”

Eddie promptly shut his mouth. Pepa looked to him and squeezed his arm.

“What did you want to ask us?”

“Has anyone been talking about genitals in front of my ten year old?”

“Edmundo!” Pepa and Abuela both exclaimed, surprised and Eddie raised his hands in surrender as he slowly backed off his chair.

“I’m gonna see myself out. Night Abuela, Tia Pepa-“

“-Eddie! Back here now!” Pepa yelled after him but he was out the door faster than she could yell his middle name.

-~-

The next morning, Christopher was having breakfast when he looked up at Eddie.

“Dad?” He began and Eddie hummed, not really paying attention.

“When can I have my switch back? I promised Denny that we would play Minecraft together tonight.”

Eddie sighed and reached into his work bag, producing the device.

“After school and only after your homework is done. I’ll tell Carla.”

“I don’t understand why you took it in the first place,” Christopher said and Eddie was glad he’d raised his son to be honest with him.

“Chris, you know what you said in the truck yesterday, when we got cut off in traffic?”

Christopher beamed, giggling and Eddie really wanted to laugh it off too but he had to play bad cop for a moment.

“Okay, well if I hear you say it again, there’ll be no switch for a week. It’s not- you’re ten, Christopher- I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you saying stuff like that.”

“Okay dad,” Christopher frowned, and Eddie squeezed his arm.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know, but let’s not say it again until you’re at least forty. Clear? Who even taught you that anyway?”

Christopher was smiling again, clapping his hands and he didn’t hesitate to blab to his father.

-~-

Eddie walked into work that afternoon with a new sense of purpose. Walking straight past Buck, not even stopping to tell Chim his shirt was buttoned wrong, barely acknowledging Hen, Eddie tossed his duffel on the couch and knocked on Bobby’s office door.

-~-

“Hey Bobby, got a second?”

“Did you teach my son to say someone’s got a tiny- well-“

“What are you-“

Eddie crossed his arms, raised his eyebrow ever so slightly and Bobby raised his hands in surrender.

“In my defence, Athena said it not me.”

“Mmhmm.”

Eddie didn’t look particularly convinced but he didn’t look particularly convinced either.

“Apparently it’s something Michael says when he’s annoyed, it makes him feel better. Male or female, young adult or elderly, he just lets rip.”

Eddie’s lips twitched, and Bobby grinned at him.

“You can’t laugh about it in front of Chris, but it’s funny right?”

“Not when it’s coming out of my child’s mouth! But- yes, okay, it’s a little funny.”

And finally, Eddie started laughing.

Bobby knew he’d dodged a bullet there. He’d have to inform Athena later to give Eddie a wide berth for a couple days.

#911 #evan buckley #911 on fox #buck #christopher diaz #911 fox #9-1-1 #911onfox #Eddie diaz

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fluffy-lee-boa · 3 years

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Teaching Me How To Move On

(A SamBucky tickle fic :3)

@tickleebug requested some Sam and Bucky, so I went a little wild with it and made a short story to show how Bucky is adapting to his new life, and his new partner. Spoilers for Endgame/TFATWS btw!

“Buhucky! Cut it out!” Steve snorted, swatting at the younger’s arm as he lightly dug into his sides.

Before he’d taken the serum, it had been a well-known fact that Steve Rogers was probably one of the most ticklish guys in Brooklyn. Sure, he hated to admit it in public, and Bucky respected that, but when he and Bucky were hanging out at home? All bets were off.

So James Buchanan Barnes took every opportunity like this to tease the other about his sensitivity, sitting beside him and carefully scratching at all the spots he knew would make the other squeal. He never took it overboard, considering Steve’s fragile state, but he did tire the other out enough that he would be sure the smaller wouldn’t get revenge.

“Come on Stevie, there’s no way you’re gonna make the army if you can’t handle a little tickling,” he smirked at the other.

Steve gave an snort, slapping a hand to his face before shaking his head rapidly, “This is just tohorture!!”

“Mhm. And?” Bucky snickered as he trailed his hands up to Steve’s stomach, relishing in the deeper laughter that it gave him.

This certain brand of “torture” continued for a few minutes, interspersed with cruel teases and barely-masked flirting that the ever-oblivious Rogers seemed to let fly over his head. Though it was easy to tell Steve wasn’t trying very hard to escape the other’s grasp, especially considering how lightly Buck was holding him down in fear of injury. He could stop any time he wanted, really.

Bucky finally let up once the wheezing started, almost immediately leaving the room only to reappear with a cup of water. He couldn’t help the smug grin on his face as the other struggled to hide his deep blush. The moment was perfect.

Too perfect.

He would wait another day to tell him about his draft card. He didn’t want to ruin what they had just yet.

Years.

Years had gone by since that day- decades, even. He had gone for most of that time without Steve, without those affectionate touches and softness, and without love. He’d gone for even longer now that Steve was....

No, he didn’t like to think about the past few months. About how the very man he’d grown up with, who’d told him he’d be with him to the end of the line, got off early. -He couldn’t be angry with him, though. It was his life, after all. His choice. Steve would probably be better off with Peggy, anyways.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, and that he was absolutely starved for affection with no one in the world to fix it for him.

Well... almost no one.

Admittedly, he’d grown closer to Sam in the time since the new Cap was gifted the shield. Despite his reservations, and the rocky start to their partnership, they’d come to an understanding. Especially after all they’d been through in their mission to stop Karli, and then Walker thereafter.

And there was the boat, of course. Bucky hadn’t even known Sam had a boat before this week- never even been near one besides during war times. Yet he found himself spending hours and even days of his time on helping him fix it. Then the days after that teaching the new Captain to toss the shield.

Was this what having a friend was like?

He couldn’t tell. I mean, after Steve, nothing was going to feel just right. ...Or so he thought.

See, even if Bucky had tried to deny it, Sam felt safe. He felt like Steve did. They shared that same big heart Bucky had always admired, and honestly, the shield couldn’t have found a better wielder. But on the other hand, Sam was also more honest, and more direct. That was something he needed after all those years of manipulation and self-pity. Not exactly tough love, but the truth. A kinder, softer truth.

“Hey! Buck!” Sam had called from the other side of the open field, between a few lone trees that were wrapped in foam.

Bucky looked up, torn from his deep thoughts about friendship and Captains and shields. He didn’t give away any of it through his glance, much better at hiding behind an emotionless mask these days.

“Are you gonna throw it back or what? -The shield, I mean.” the figure laughed.

James rolled his eyes and walked over, trying to play it off, “Your stance is off. You’re gonna get someone killed if you don’t have enough balance.”

“Balance my ass,” Sam scoffed jokingly as he took the shield back from the other, looking him over suspiciously, “...You’re just deflecting again. You’ve been spacing out like crazy today... did something happen?”

Ah, there was that signature therapist-like concern that Wilson managed to worm into every conversation. It made Bucky’s heart beat faster and his stomach flip and he hated it. No one had been this worried about him since he came back from the icy abyss of HYDRA’s control. No one else had checked up on him so consistently for no other gain than his continued wellbeing.

“I’m fine.” He shot back despite himself, half of a glare on his face as he turned away to go back to his spot.

Sam rolled his eyes at the other’s dramatics, at this point being readily used to the cold demeanor Bucky used to push aside his own feelings. But he wasn’t ready to let it slide this time around. So he stepped towards him after setting aside the vibranium shield, reaching out to stop him from walking away again.

Quite a few things happened after that, one after the other.

For one, Sam had underestimated how quickly Bucky could power-walk away from him, and ended up grazing his side with a small grabbing motion rather than taking him by the wrist.

From there, Bucky had faltered in his pace with a quick giggle, before looking back at the other with a somewhat horrified expression. Oh no.

It was painfully obvious to Sam now, by Buck’s initial reaction and the way he seemed just about ready to jump out of his skin.

“There is no way in hell....”

“Sam, you don’t want to do this-”

“You’re ticklish?!”

Bucky cringed, almost immediately blushing just as Steve had whenever he’d done the same to him back in Brooklyn. Karma may have been delayed for almost a century, but it sure did come back to bite him. Figures as much, right?

Bucky had started walking backwards away from the now-very-menacing falcon, though with the woods around them, his ankle caught on a rock and sent him flying back onto his butt. Figures even more.

Before he could up and scramble away, probably going to rush to Sarah and beg for protection, Sam had pounced. The super soldier found himself being straddled, which didn’t help his confusing feelings from before at all. He hands ended up under Sam’s knees, and even if he knew he could probably escape, he was concerned he’d end up hurting the other if he lost control of his own strength.

“Sam! Get off!” He said in a shockingly squeaky shout, obviously flustered.

“Nu-uh. I need to see this for myself.” Sam snickered, making the other look away as his blush deepened.

“You su-AHAHUCK-“

Before Bucky could articulate what would have totally been a coherent and witty response, Sam had taken the initiative and dug straight into the dip of his sides. There was an explosion of sunny and bubbly laughter that didn’t suit the awkward Soldier at all, making Sam beam down at the other.

Bucky internally cursed as he looked up and caught glimpse of the smile. He was too perfect- it was unfair!

Sam chuckled as he lightened up, tracing circles around his hips and making Bucky jerk back and forth with a few left over giggles, “Wowwww... It’s worse than I thought.”

“Shut the hell uhuhup...” Bucky muttered in embarrassment, making Wilson roll his eyes.

Sam knew he could definitely find a worse spot, and ignoring Bucky’s continued insults and thinly-veiled threats, he scanned the other’s upper body as thought to himself.

His metal arm probably couldn’t feel anything, right? But what about the spot just where the two met...?

Bucky noticed where his partner’s gaze had fallen, suddenly looking alarmed as he turned to begging, “Hey, wait, hold on, that’s a bad idea, Wilson. -Agh- Please? Is that what you want? Fine! I’m saying please-“

Sam just shook his head with that stupid, handsome smirk on his face, “Saying please isn’t gonna save you this time around. Tell me what’s wrong.... and I won’t absolutely wreck you. And trust me, I have an older sister. I know exactly how to do it.”

Bucky went quite besides his quick breathes and squirmy giggles, looking off to the side as he tried to consider his options despite the continued teasing of his sides and hips. But no- he couldn’t say what was really on his mind. Stubborn is as stubborn does.

“Do your worst.”

There was only a moment of reprieve as Wilson took in the other’s bratty reply, before he wiggled his fingers into that horrible dip between Buck’s metal arm and his ribs, right in the hollow. His other hand went to the rest of his rib cage just as quickly, alternating between both sides and dipping in between the spaces for added torture.

Bucky was pretty much lost in a handful of seconds.

He cackled, kicking his legs and pulling at his arms with only a shred of resistance from the last part of him that was conscious, which was still bent on making sure he didn’t hurt Sam.

But, that part of him could only hold out for so long, and when Sam found an extra sensitive spot between his ribs, Bucky ended up arching so suddenly that Sam was sent a good five feet away by his super strength.

Whoops.

There was a long pause as the air around them stilled once more, Sam laying feet away and laughing hysterically at his friend’s reaction while Bucky himself calmed himself down to a frenzy of frantic giggling.

After he was able to regain control of himself, he sat up to look over at Sam, his arms wrapped around his own torso protectively so the falcon could no longer access his weak spot. His voice was hoarse as he asked sheepishly, “...Are you ok?”

Sam’s own laughter died down, and he waved his hand dismissively, “Fine, fine. I shoulda expected it. You’re a hyper-ticklish super soldier. I’m just lucky you didn’t break my arm.“

Bucky didn’t find much humor in that joke, but he got up and made his way over to the other anyway. He held out his hand to help him stand beside him, and Wilson smiled softly at the other’s still reddened face, “Maybe we should do that more often. You’re cute when you’re blushing like that.”

And he walked away.

Bucky, for better or worse, didn’t have the same luxury that his old partner did of obliviousness to such direct declarations of affection, so he simply stood in shock as he was left in the small field of grass.

...Maybe, just maybe, his new life wasn’t as empty and lonely as he’d previously thought. Maybe Sam... could be what he really needed, as a partner, and as a friend.

Or.... maybe something more.

Lots of maybes today. But then again, when is anything ever certain?

#lee!bucky #ler!sam #marvel tickle fic #tickle fic #mcu tickle #marvel tickling

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sserpente · 4 years

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A/N: Request from @nebulousfishgills and myself. *giggles* Thomas Sharpe is back in time for Halloween season! Also, this is probably one of the cheesiest Imagines I’ve ever written. Be warned and enjoy!

Words: 2329 Warnings: so much fluff

Thomas Sharpe had stepped into your life rather unexpectedly. He had been looking for work in your brother’s mining company and, thanks to his experience, landed a well-paid job soon after. Your brother liked him. He was the true personification of Britishness—polite, considerate, a Gentleman… and he did love his tea.

Every year when the leaves began to grow too heavy on the trees, discolour and fall off, your brother held a feast to thank his employees for their hard work before the mines closed over the winter. You usually helped to prepare and cook and refill empty glasses; and last year you happened to have refilled Thomas’ glass. He had been smitten by you as much as you had been smitten by him and after countless rendezvous where he confided in you about his horrifying past, you now considered yourselves a couple.

It had been almost a year. Autumn was drawing near again and as you drove through a grove in a carriage, able to peacefully take in the beauty of the season, you leaned against Thomas’ strong body. He sighed, his shoulders heaving. In fact, he had been rather quiet for days now.

“Thomas, are you alright?” Looking up at him with a concerned expression on your face, you allowed him to cup your cheek in response.

“Oh, yes. The cold seasons always remind me of home, that is all.“ He confessed, giving you a small smile. A sad smile.

“This is your home now,” you reassured him. “You are beyond welcome here. A new beginning, remember?”

He hummed in response. “A new beginning…”

By the time you arrived at the modest house your brother and you were sharing and you finished cooking dinner for you two, Thomas was still silent. Eerily silent, almost. And it made you worry for him.

Moment after moment passed with only the cutting, chewing and swallowing of food being audible in the cosy kitchen.

“I want to go back to England.” He suddenly stated. You almost dropped your fork.

“You… what? Really?”

“Yes. It is just like you said,” He went on, growing more enthusiastic with a start, “A new beginning. I could start over, restore the house… it does not have to wither away.”

“But… Thomas, I thought you were glad you left this place… that you have so many terrible memories attached to Allerdale Hall. Are you sure you want to be there again?”

Your appetite was all but lost now. Discouraged, you put your fork down and looked him straight in the eye—his beautiful, innocent blue eyes.

“I am. It took me weeks to figure out just why I do not feel complete in this place. I am missing something. I am missing my roots.”

He reached across the table to hold your hand when your eyes filled with tears. “So… you will leave me?”

Thomas shook his head. “No! No, I do not want to leave you. In fact… I meant to ask if you would like to come with me. I do not ask you to leave your home forever. But if I spend my summers here with you, working for your brother and return to England for the winters…”

“Thomas…”

“Please, my love. I want you to be with me. The house is all I have left in my possession and I cannot live at your and your brother’s expenses forever. If I could I would long have purchased us a house here so we can get married and raise our children in our very own home but my savings will not allow it. Instead… if I used them to restore Allerdale Hall…”

Your lips parted. He wanted to marry you. He meant to buy a house where you could raise your children. And he truly seemed to miss his home. Biting your lower lip, you considered his proposal for a moment.

All the work that would come with restoring an entire mansion did not put you off as much as the fact that Allerdale Hall was miles away from your own birthplace. Only if you were with Thomas… did it truly matter where you were? If it meant so much to him… as for you, as long as you could stay with him, it did not matter much to you where you were. It was the change that was scary.

“If this is what you really want…” You finally responded. “…then I will come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up like a Christmas tree and you nodded.

“I will.” There was no denying your promise, in this very moment, was as significant as a wedding vow.

“Thomas… this house is huge. It’s just the two of us. How will we use all of this space?” Tilting your head back, you took in the gigantic construction towering into the sky.

“We’ll have to have lots of children.” He replied, gently kissing your cheek and hugging you from behind.

There was a gaping hole in the ceiling, letting the cold autumn air come inside, trapping it. It was freezing. Thomas had not exaggerated. The house was in dire need of renovation but together, so you were certain, you would transform this place into an exciting and a cosy living place. A place in which your children could grow up in and, once in adulthood, remember fondly what it had been like.

You worked hard. Your brother knew some good and honest roofers who offered a fair price for the repair of the ceiling, after that Thomas was able to afford two floorers with whom he began figuring out a way to keep the house from sinking into the red clay he had told you about underneath.

Everything had remained just like he had left it, even his clay machine. Only the bodies… the bodies must have been removed by wild animals or a decent human being who found and buried them. Thomas himself could not bring himself to bury both his most recent wife and sister himself—and after everything that happened, the remaining villagers were rather out of sorts with the last survivor of the Sharpe family.

The next couple of weeks you spent cleaning and tidying (and sneezing) and building and sweeping and slowly but surely, Allerdale Hall was turning into a wonderful home. Not once since your arrival had you felt the presence of a tormented ghost—not once had either of you been haunted. It was like, ever since Lucille’s death, the many murdered women in this house had finally been able to move on.

His favourite part of the house was still the attic which had remained untouched for the most part. You had merely replaced the sofa and the desks, added some lovely curtains and a beautiful lustre for his late-night crafting.

You were almost done now. Nearly everything was clean and tidy, new furniture adding an elegant touch to the old house. The only thing still missing was the outer front and the lowest level. Thomas had told you he no longer wanted anything to do with red clay mining, for it reminded him too much of his past with Lucille and the horrible deeds he had been forced to be a part of. Instead, he wanted to keep helping your brother develop new machines for his mines.

“I have an idea.” You said, loosening your tight ponytail after another cleaning orgy in the house. It was only time for lunch and you could not wait to retreat to your new bedroom already. It was Thomas’ old room, re-furnished and cosier than you could have ever imagined. Thomas had spent a fortune on the new king-size bed with the softest mattress you had ever had the pleasure to sleep on.

“You have had many wonderful ideas over the last few weeks, my love.” Thomas said with a smile. “What have you thought of now?”

“We should host a party tomorrow night.”

His lips parted in surprise. “A party? For whom?”

“No one in particular. Us. Our new home. Besides, Halloween is right around the corner. We should ask everyone to dress up and have some fun after all the hard work.” Now there was a chance that the villagers would downright refuse to set foot into this building ever again but you were rather sure that most of them were curious as to what had become of Allerdale Hall as well. Thomas would be able to prove to them he was a good and decent man—and that he had finally found happiness.

“I agree. I do believe we deserve some time off.”

You were busy the next morning, sending out invitations and then buying all the supplies you would need for your Halloween party. Thomas had outdone himself with his outfit—he prepared an all-black suit and black polished shoes along with a cylinder and a dark red bowtie, the latter which fit the dress he had insisted on buying you for tonight perfectly.

Now that the first guests began to arrive in their carriages, all wearing fashionable masks as it was Halloween, admiring what had become of the house so far, Thomas’ nervousness infected you. You had decorated where you could, collecting sycamore leafs and carving pumpkins which were now grinning eerily with candles inside of them. You soon realised, however, that your worries were unnecessary. Thomas conversed like the true Gentleman he was, passionately recalling how much fun it had been to restore the house and that he would have never been able to do any of that without your help. That was when all the attention drifted to you.

Thomas had just disappeared upstairs with an old friend who had been happy enough about his return to show him his renovated workshop when an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, approached you with dismay coating his lips. The rest of his face was unreadable given that he too was wearing a mask.

“So I understand it that you will at some point be marrying the baronet then, my lady?”

“Yes, Sir.” You responded with a polite and content smile. The man shook his head.

“Well, good luck. His last few wives all passed away under rather strange circumstances.”

Tensing up a little, you lifted your chin.

“So I’ve heard and that is very unfortunate. Sir Thomas has my deepest sympathy. And I thank you for your concern but I don’t easily perish.” In fact, the very first thing Thomas and you had done was tossing out the poisoned tea Lucille had been using on his former wives. It was still unsettling sometimes to know he had been involved in murders—but you also knew that Thomas was a good man. He had already lost Edith. He would not lose you.

“You sure don’t, my lady. However, the last remaining woman in Sir Sharpe’s life was his sister Lucille and even her body was never found. I am only trying to help. I run a hotel a few miles west of this atrocious place. I can provide shelter for you, my lady, and hide you from him.”

Shit. You clutched your dress tightly so your hands would not shake as much. “Thank you but that will not be necessary. I love my soon-husband-to-be dearly and if you keep insulting him or his intentions, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“Is there a problem?” Relieved, you let out a breath when you felt Thomas’ arm around your waist and turned around to notice his stern gaze. It was not often you experienced him this cold. The older man blinked, fists clenching a few times.

“No. No problem at all, Sir Sharpe.”

“Good.” With that, he reached for your arm, gently pulling you into the living room. A pianist—another good friend of your brother’s—was filling the hall with warm musical sounds as a couple of guests were dancing. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. He was just being… invasive… about your past.”

“I suspected this might happen tonight.”

“Yes…”

You joined the dancers with a sly smile, letting Thomas take the lead and following his elegant movements as you melted into the harmonious music, both your feet gliding across the floor. And when the piece ended and you came to rest in graceful position in his arms… he suddenly went down on one knee and cupped one of your hands with his as you looked up at you like the most blessed man on the planet. Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name. All of a sudden, the room went so still one could have heard a needle drop.

“Will you do me the honour and become my wife? Let me be yours as you will be mine and let us fill this house with nothing but love and harmony.” You never realised there were tears swimming in your eyes—not until they rolled down your cheeks and wetted the fabric of the thin crimson mask you were wearing.

“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes!” Thomas smiled. As the party guests started to clap around you with Ah’s and Oh’s, he scooped you up into his arms, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“And tomorrow morning…” He whispered into your ear, “I shall buy you the most beautiful engagement ring that England has to offer.”

“You don’t have to buy me an expensive ring, Thomas. Actually…” Your face lit up. “Now that your workshop is done, would you craft one for me?”

His laugh tore through your heart like a tornado. You were right, of course—a hand-crafted engagement ring would be more personal and precious than anything a jeweller could make.

“Did I tell you that I love you?”

“Many, many times. And I love you too. More than anything.”

Your audience cheered even louder when you kissed once more, hugging so tightly not even a thin piece of parchment would have had any space between you.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

#thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe imagine #thomas sharpe fluff #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe x reader #sir thomas sharpe #sir thomas sharpe imagine #sir thomas sharpe fluff #sir thomas sharpe x you #sir thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak #crimson peak imagine #tom hiddleston

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julieloveupstead · 3 years

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"You Are My Now and Forever" - Upstead

Description: My version of what could or might happen after the last scene from 8x16. I hope you enjoy it

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Events that had taken place only a few moments ago were blurring into one. I didn't know what was real and what was fake. I don't even remember by what miracle I managed to get home. Everything seemed so strange to me, as if all the movements were made by another person, I was just looking at it.

When I entered the apartment it was dark and which was ironic because that's exactly how I felt - as if the darkness had taken over me and I couldn't get out of it.

- Hey, I thought I'd meet you at the hospital - and as if out of nowhere Jay appeared, who like the light he'd just turned on in the living room made all the bad memories from an hour ago evaporate. In that moment, I realized for the first time how much of an influence Jay has on me. How much he has changed in my life and how much he means. All my life I didn't know what it meant to love, what it meant to be loved. I didn't have an example of a loving, supportive family at home. Affection, intimacy, loyalty, love, respect these adjectives were not used at home.

I saw that Jay was saying something, but what I couldn't focus on what he was saying. I just tried to nod, because all I had in my head was the thought that I couldn't let the only good thing in my life get screwed up. I have to, I want with all my might to hold on to him and what we have because what we have is so special and for the first time in my life I feel happy and safe. When I'm with him all that matters is the here and now. No work, no case to solve, no problems, no memories, and no mavens from tonight with Voight. It's just him and me. And that thought causes me to say:

- I love you. - stopping my boyfriend in half a step with this (6 months together and calling him a boy it still makes me feel amazing in my lower abdomen and disbelieve that this wonderful man is mine and most importantly wants to be mine)

- I love you too," he says surprised by my bravery, which even I am surprised by, because not long ago he had a panic attack at the sound of those 3 words.

This guy looks at me with such tenderness and love that I don't deserve, and certainly not after what I did today. I was beginning to barely see through the tears appearing in my eyes. I'm afraid it's the last time I'll hear those words out of his mouth and surely as soon as he hears about what happened in that warehouse in his eyes I'll see disappointment and that will mean my end. Feeling how much I wanted to keep him I let go of all the barriers, because in the end what else was left for me?

- You are so honest and I... - and I just wanted to feel accepted, loved and seen as valuable. Somehow I couldn't say the words out loud. I swallowed my saliva loudly at the memory of my childhood as my own father instilled in me that I deserved nothing, that I was just a worthless loser. And now that I finally felt that I was finally worth something to someone, worth loving, worth trusting, worth telling the biggest demons he was stewing inside and worth opening his heart once again, now I had to break something.

- Hey, hey, everything's going to work out with us too - the way he calmly and tenderly addressed me hurt me even more because he recognized my anxiety right away. It always surprises me how accurately he can read me as if from an open book, in fact I read him too.

- I don't want to be without you," I said with a fear that I was no longer able to mask. I can't live without him. Without it, all my demons will hit me with double or even triple force. Jay is the rock for me, the anchor of what I cannot survive without, he is my everything.

- You never will," he said with tears in his eyes and a slight smile of delight. This man surprised me all the time with how much love he had for me. I wish I could say or show how much I love him, but I fail every damn time. Maybe my father was right and I don't deserve any love?

- Maybe we should get married? - i was surprised by what I had just said, and so was Jay, and yet I really feltrything's going to work out with us too - the way he calmly and tenderly addressed me hurt me even more because he recognized my anxiety right away. It always surprises me how accurately he can read me as if from an open book, in fact I read him too.

- Maybe we should get married? - i was surprised by what I had just said, and so was Jay, and yet I really felt this is the right time. I don't want to lose him. I'm afraid of losing him. I could feel the panic starting to set in.

- I'm serious, let's get married," I repeated this time more confidently to reassure him that I wasn't joking.

- Honey," he smiled tenderly, and a single tear began to run down her cheek. His gaze showed nothing like love, his one hand went to my cheek and brushed it. The gesture caused me to let my eyes close and snuggle more into his warm and soft hand. - I would be honored to marry you, to call you my wife, to hear you call me husband from your lips. I can't wait for the day I see you in church in a beautiful white dress when we have a bunch of beautiful children. I love you so much that you can't even imagine and I can't imagine on this finger - with his other hand he lifted my right hand, with his finger he played with my heart finger and then he kissed it in the place where the ring and the wedding ring should be. And he looked at me again - I love you and I will never stop. Remember what I told you a few weeks ago? I'm not going anywhere, really anywhere. So tell me what's going on? What happened to make your beautiful head germinate with the thought that I might leave you? - throughout the monologue he spoke in a calm, quiet and monotonous voice that is reserved only for me. Jay always knows when something is bothering me and as of now he knows exactly what, well maybe almost. We are mentally connected and I never wanted it to end. More tears flowed down my cheeks as he gently wiped them away with his thumb. I pulled my nose, wondering how I was going to tell him all this.

- I can't tell you. I'm afraid you'll leave me, that you'll hate me, that... - my voice was breaking.

- Hey, Hailey, baby. It's never gonna happen. - said with tenderness and assurance. I closed my eyes again and thought once again of a goat's death and began to tell the story.

- Voight found Roy. He specifically sent us to the houses we were bouncing off the door, and he chose the right house himself, where he found information on where Roy was. After I dropped Adam off at Kim's house to take care of Makayla I followed Hank's trail and found him in the warehouse. - i paused to swallow my saliva, giving him a moment to calm down. Jay didn't say a word, just listened. I felt my legs no longer me and Jay guided me to the couch. I sat up and he planted me in his lap, cradling me tightly against his torso. To calm myself down a bit, I start playing with the fingers of his hand and continued on. - Walton was handcuffed to the pipe and Voight was beating him - I closed my eyes having the events described before my eyes. Jay must have started to suspect something because he pulled me tighter to him so that I was almost lying on top of him. - When Voight spotted me he pointed the gun in my direction - I could feel my defender's muscles toning I knew he remembered the story of the burglar when I was twelve and how he when not was in bad shape after a bout of PTSD set in and pointed a gun in my direction. He still blames himself for that and for what he said at the very beginning of our relationship about my father and my life. I forgave him a long time ago, and he hasn't forgiven himself. And how could I not love him, but going back - Jay I really tried to do everything right. I tried to reason with the Sergeant, but he was like he was in another world. Eyes full of murder, and zero emotion on his face. It was the first time I really saw Hank's resemblance to my father and it scared me so much. I thought I'd finally convinced him to keep Roy, that it could all still be explained. When Voight tried to unseat him Roy grabbed his gun - my breathing began to quicken, I closed my eyes - I thought Walton was going to shoot Voight. It was a good shot, I... no... i had a way out. It was a good shot.

- Those, come to me, sweetheart - when I started to cry Jay kissed my forehead and when I thought that you can't hug a man tighter, I was wrong. - Roy was unpredictable, he almost killed Kim and Kent and could have killed you and Voight. It was a good shot. Baby look at me - I did as he asked. He kissed my eye, then my eyes, then my nose and mouth. - It's not your fault, it's Voights you understand? He's got blood on his hands, not you. I love you and I will not let anyone hurt you. Hailey Anne Upton you are mine now and you will be my future and eternity you understand? - I looked into his eyes and became convinced that he really thinks so. I was overwhelmed by the love I get from him, I'm very lucky. I kissed him tenderly as if there was no tomorrow. I was unable to say how much I love him, or how grateful I am for his presence in my life, so I hoped a kiss would give it all away.

"I love you Jay," I put my forehead to his.

- I love you Hailey - this time he kissed me.

- As for my question ... - I started hesitantly, but Jay cut me off

- We will go back to this, you will see the engagement, it will be one of the most beautiful memories of our lives, of course, apart from the our wedding and the arrival of our children - he laughed tenderly and winked at me and I laughed and hugged more in my boyfriend, in my present and the future.

#upstead #upstead fic #jay x hailey #jay halstead #hailey upton

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chaolie · 3 years

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Fundywastaken week, Day 8 - Free Prompt

Here it is!! The last thing I wrote for @fundyfiles' fwt week!! I kinda got carried away writing it and it got somewhat long, but it's really cool I think! Can be also found on my Ao3 with the rest of my works for this week!

Characters: Fundy, Dream, Wilbur

Words: ~3.7k

When they parted ways the day before, Fundy promised he’d see Dream again first thing in the morning. At first, the man assumed that his boyfriend slept in. Then, he convinced himself something else must’ve come up and he’d be late. But now the sun was high in the sky, and it was well past noon. Finally, Dream started to seriously worry. What if something happened? Sure, the war was long over and there weren’t many dangers around, but still, what if? To feel better, he decided to go check on him.

He arrived at the gate to L’Manburg rather quickly, but was a bit hesitant to knock. Sure, he was on better terms with some of the people living there, but he usually was around them only with Fundy, there was no telling how they’d react to seeing him alone. With the worry for his boyfriend overpowering his nervousness, he knocked on the gate a couple of times and waited. He saw someone peek above the wall before ducking behind it again and heard their footsteps get further. Great. But just moments later, the gate slowly opened and he stood face to face with Wilbur.

“Hello. What brings you here?” the man asked. Dream took a deep breath before speaking.

“Is… Fundy here? I hadn’t seen him all day and I’m starting to get worried,” he answered. To his surprise, Wilbur’s expression seemed to soften slightly.

“...He is, but I’m not sure if he’d like to see you,” he answered. Confused, Dream tilted his head.

“Huh? Why?” he asked, and the man sighed.

“He’s just… He’s in his room, and he doesn’t want visitors. It’s just… I suppose he didn’t tell you?”

“...Didn’t tell me about what?” Dream asked, and Wilbur nodded. “Look, I just want to see him and make sure he’s okay.”

“I see,” the man sighed. “I can let you in, but if he tells you to leave, you’ll do so,” he said, and Dream nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was argue.

“Of course.”

“Good… Come inside, then, I suppose,” Wilbur sighed, stepping back to let Dream go through the gate.

Walking behind Wilbur, Dream couldn’t help but grow anxious. What did the man mean, what did Fundy not tell him about? Was it something very bad? He knew Fundy well, well enough to know that no minor inconvenience would stop him from keeping his promise and meeting with him. So what happened? How bad was it? Was he sick? Was he hurt? No, Wilbur was acting far too calm for that, and he probably wouldn’t let Dream anywhere near him if that were the case… So what was it, then?!

“...Fundy?” Wilbur called out, knocking on the door to the small house Fundy called his own.

“...Yeah?” came the answer. He sounded… okay. A bit sad, but okay. That in itself was a big relief for Dream.

“You, uh. Dream came to visit you?” Fundy’s father announced. After that, came a long pause. “You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Fundy answered finally, his voice more muffled. “H-he can come in!” he assured.

“...Okay then,” Wilbur sighed before turning to look at Dream. He glared at the masked man for a second, as if telling him Don’t Do Anything Bad, and then left. Nervously, Dream put a hand over the doorknob and pushed the door open.

“Hi. Fundy?” he greeted, stepping inside.

“Hi. Close the door, please?” Fundy answered, and Dream followed the instruction. When he looked back into the building, he found his boyfriend on his bed, hiding under a blanket.

“...Are you okay?” he asked, and the shape under the blanket moved in a way indicating a nod.

“Yeah! Yeah, just-” Fundy tried to explain, but his voice suddenly fell. “Sometimes I just wake up, and… I don’t want anyone to see me?” he answered hesitantly.

“Is there… a reason?” Dream asked, slowly stepping closer to the bed. Again, Fundy nodded.

“Yeah, it’s… uh… It’s just… I really don’t want anyone to see me like… this. A-and that includes you, too. Uh, sorry, it’s dumb-” he stuttered out.

“It’s alright,” Dream assured. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, right- Sorry for missing our meeting, I’m just… Tomorrow, maybe? If I’m lucky?” Fundy suggested. Dream felt helpless, whatever his boyfriend was dealing with, he wanted to help. But how could he help if he didn’t know anything? He figured, maybe giving him some support would be good enough?

“Sure,” he nodded, carefully putting a hand on where he assumed Fundy’s arm to be. Immediately, the fox hybrid’s hand shot out from under the blanket and grasped at the material.

“Wait, don’t-” he gasped, holding it tightly.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t-” Dream shook his head and took his hand back. “Sorry, I was just…” he tried to excuse himself.

Just then, he looked at Fundy’s hand and… huh? It looked… very different from what he remembered it to be. It was… slightly bigger, the ‘claws’ on it were much duller, and most importantly… Well, it wasn’t fox-like anymore. Not at all, save for the black tint on the tips of his fingers, Fundy’s hand was… human. Surprised, Dream carefully reached over and put his own hand over it.

“...Fundy, what…” he tried to ask, but the moment he came in contact with the hand, his boyfriend yelped in surprise and hid it back under the blanket.

“I- It’s not what- Wait I- I can explain!” he stuttered, and Dream stood still in his place. Then, there came a pause.

“...So, can you explain your… hand?” Dream asked finally, and Fundy seemed to curl up under the blanket.

“...Are you… I don’t know, upset?”

“No!” Dream assured quickly. “No, of course not! Just… confused?”

“Oh. A-alright,” Fundy nodded, and let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, so…”

Fundy’s almost-human hand reappeared on the edge of the blanket, and he carefully pulled it back. Slowly, he revealed himself and he looked… different for sure. Not like the fox hybrid Dream got to see almost every day, but almost human. A ginger-haired human with just a few fox-like features, ears, tail, and the tips of his fingers. Carefully, he sat up on his bed and watched his boyfriend, waiting for his reaction. When the man stayed silent, he figured he should continue his explanation.

“...So… this happens. Sometimes. N-not too often, but I’ll sometimes wake up and it’s just… like this?” he stuttered out, and Dream managed to push himself to answer.

“I see. That's... interesting. N-not in a bad way! And what do you do when… this happens?” he asked, and Fundy shrugged. He did seem at least a bit comforted by the fact that Dream wasn't going crazy over his current look, though.

“Wait for it to go back to normal?” he answered. “It happens on its own most of the time. B-but not everyone is used to seeing… this me? So I usually just stay home and… hide. And if I’m honest, I don’t feel very comfortable like this either,” he admitted. Then, he looked at Dream again, and the man finally fully broke through his shock.

“I don’t mind seeing you like this,” he said, slowly taking a seat by his boyfriend’s side. “It’s still you, isn't it?” he pointed out. While he wasn't used to reading Fundy's expressions while he had a more human face, the relief on it was obvious this time.

“...Oh, you have No Idea how glad I am to hear this,” he let out a sigh of relief as Dream put his hand on his shoulder.

“So wait, are you like… a shapeshifter?” he asked after a moment of thought, and Fundy nodded.

“Yeah, basically! Well, I can look only like this, like I usually do, or like an actual wild fox, but it still counts, right?” he confirmed, and Dream nodded.

“That’s cool,” he hummed, and Fundy chuckled.

“Not when you can’t change back,” he sighed, his fox ears dropping slightly. “I just never learned,” he admitted, and Dream nodded again.

“Hm… Would you like to?” he asked, and Fundy looked up at him with a confused frown.

“...What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a few books about shapeshifting in a friend’s possession? Maybe there are some instructions there?” he suggested, and Fundy’s face lit up.

“Oh, yeah, I heard that’s a thing. I never got my hands on them, but... “ he paused in thought. “I think it’s worth a try?” he decided finally, and Dream nodded.

“I can go grab them fast, then. Do you want to come with me?” he offered, and Fundy hesitated.

“Uh… I don’t know, I mean…” he muttered, looking down at himself. Dream nodded. “...Unless…” Fundy remembered suddenly, “Is there anything I can cover myself with?” he wondered out loud, and Dream looked around.

“I don’t know…” he hummed, failing to spot anything that could help. Then, Fundy gasped.

“Wait, I think I still have some invisibility potions lying around!” he realized, and immediately grew more hopeful.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Dream agreed, getting off the bed and looking around. Soon enough, Fundy got to his feet as well and… oh? “...Is it just me, or are you taller now?” the masked man muttered.

“Am I?” Fundy asked, looking down at himself before grinning. “I suppose that’s a plus of being more… human?” he concluded before making his way over to a small chest and reaching inside, pulling out a bottle with a blue-ish liquid inside. “Here it is!”

“Great,” Dream nodded. “So, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” Fundy confirmed before downing the bottle and disappearing in front of his boyfriend’s eyes. “Let’s go!”

“Right,” Dream nodded, searching around for Fundy’s hand for a moment before finally finding it and leading him towards the door. “Can we go tell your father we’re leaving first? I don’t want him to assume I kidnapped you or something.”

“Oh, sure. I don’t want to worry him either,” the fox hybrid shapeshifter agreed.

With just a few minutes of invisibility to spare, the two quickly managed to find Wilbur and briefly told him that they were leaving. They didn’t tell him the exact reason, they had no idea if it would work anyway, so Fundy just came up with a ‘short walk’ he wanted to take as an excuse. His father was very obviously surprised to see, or rather hear, him outside of his room, but didn’t say anything against their idea. Once that was handled, the two freely left the walls of L’Manburg and started heading towards the place Dream last recalled seeing the books, a friends’ library. They used the big forest separating the two places as a cover for when Fundy’s potion ran out, which luckily happened far enough from L’Manburg.

“Hm… I think I’m really taller,” Fundy admitted moments after collecting himself from a branch smacking him in the face. The branch that barely scratched the top of his head if he straightened his back before.

“You sure are,” Dream admitted, he figured that much was obvious from the very moment his boyfriend stood up.

“...How far is the place we’re going to, again?” Fundy asked after a short pause.

“Not too far from here, maybe just 3 or 4 minutes of walking,” the masked man assured, and his boyfriend nodded.

“Alright then.”

Just as Dream predicted, it didn’t take them too long to reach the library. It was far from any other buildings, so they weren’t being too risky in assuming they wouldn’t be spotted, but the masked man still went inside first. While he was checking the building for any other people, Fundy patiently waited outside and found himself thinking… it’s been ages since he last dared to go outside shaped not like a fox hybrid. And for the first time in forever, he didn’t feel bad doing so either. Dream’s presence really helped him, he supposed.

“It’s empty!” the man called out, his head peeking through the door. Fundy nodded at that and approached.

“That’s good,” he laughed quietly while the man pushed the door further to let him inside. As soon as he entered, he was hit by the all-familiar scent of old books.

“Right. And I’m pretty sure I saw at least one of the books we’re looking for over there?” Dream explained, already walking off in a direction.

“Wait, uh, Dream?” Fundy called after him before he could wander too far.

“Yeah?” the man asked, stopping and turning to look at Fundy.

“I just, uh… wanted to say,” he paused briefly. “Thanks for not making this the biggest deal of the century, or anything. And for wanting to help,” he finished, and the man stepped back to be at his side again.

“Of course. I’m always here, whatever you need,” he assured, carefully taking Fundy’s ‘new’ hands into his. “I promise I am. I love you,” he added, and for the first time ever, he got to see Fundy’s face turn bright red.

“Thank you. I love you too,” the shapeshifter nodded, unable to stop a smile from appearing on his face.

“Now let’s find those books, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“...But for the record, I can most definitely see you blushing,” Dream teased, and sure enough, Fundy’s cheeks grew even redder at that.

“Uh- I- A-at least I’m taller?” he stuttered out, and the masked man chuckled. “We’ll see who’s laughing when I can reach the higher shelves,” he muttered despite there wasn’t too much of a difference between them. It still counted, right?

Over an hour later, they still had nothing. They sat at a table with a couple of piles of books scattered all around them, some checked and some still to be checked. Of course, almost all of them were about shapeshifting, but very few had any instructions inside of them, and not even one was about changing from almost-human to an animal hybrid. So they still sat and flipped through the countless pages, searching for the right one.

“Hm…” Dream hummed quietly, reading one of the books more cautiously.

“Did you find anything?” Fundy asked, a glint of hope in his voice.

“...No, not really. This has some instructions, but about going from a human to an actual animal. Not really what you need, is it?” he explained, and the shapeshifter nodded.

“Yeah, not that,” he confirmed, but Dream continued to stare into the book.

“This seems really simple, though. Are all the instructions so simple?” he asked, sliding the book over to his boyfriend.

“It’s not simple, it’s hard to remember and easy to forget. Takes a lot of practice. And if you do one thing wrong, it won’t work,” he explained before sliding the book back.

“Oh, come on, it really looks so easy!” Dream groaned, picking up the book and holding it up in front of him. “Look, you just… hm… like this… and…” he muttered, and Fundy rolled his eyes at the man’s efforts.

“Dream,” he groaned. “It won’t work if you’re not-” he tried to explain, but was cut off by a sudden yelp, a bright flash, and the book falling to the ground. He stilled for a moment, staring at where his boyfriend was just seconds ago. “...Dream?”

With a small, confused grin, he got to his feet and walked over to the fallen book. He could swear something was moving under it, so he carefully reached for it. He gently pushed it up and found, well, something under it. Not an animal for sure. Rather, a small creature unlike anything he’s seen before. A tiny, white blob with a smile almost identical to the one painted on Dream’s mask. Which still made very little sense, even if the creature was technically Dream.

“...No, wait, Dream?” Fundy asked again, and the creature chirped quietly as an answer. At that, he couldn’t help but chuckle briefly. Still, when Dream seemed to glare at him, he did his best to calm down before reaching his hand out. “A-are you okay?” he asked, finally choking down the laughter. The blob nodded swiftly, and it almost brought a grin to his face. But no, he should focus... “Okay, good. So… what did you even change into?” he asked.

He didn’t expect Dream to answer, but seeing his boyfriend try to look himself over quickly just assured him that he wouldn’t get it. He looked at the book in his hand, and read the page it was open on more thoroughly. The first thing he noticed, while it did mention turning from a human to an animal, it later clarified that the correct term would be a “small-sized creature”. The second thing he noticed was the lack of instructions for turning back. A book just as useful as the other ones they have looked through so far.

“Well, look what you got yourself into,” he sighed. Still, seeing Dream like that was… a bit reassuring at least. Made him feel less alone. “Alright, we’re looking for two books now, right?” he asked, and when the blob chirped again, he carefully reached for him and picked him up. “Let’s get to work then.”

Fundy was the only one to work now. Not that Dream didn’t try anymore, of course. If anything, he was much more in a rush to find a book that could help at least one of them, but given his… current form and the strength that came with it, he wasn’t doing as good as he was before. So after a short while of struggling to open at least one of the books, he ended up agreeing to rest, and was now comfortably curled up in the collar of Fundy’s jacket and resting against his neck. At first, he served as a second pair of eyes, chirping loudly whenever he saw something looking remotely close to a guide on how to change shapes, but eventually settled down and stopped doing that. He trusted Fundy’s eyes, and his own felt so heavy he just had to close them.

“...Wait… Dream!” Fundy gasped another hour into the search, startling his boyfriend and almost making him fall down. With a quiet chuckle, he reached up and placed him back on the table. “Sorry, sorry… but look!”

And the tiny blob creature once known as Dream looked at the book next to him. A book with “Different shapes and how to achieve them” printed on its cover, and a small chart drawn under the words. Oh, now this looked really promising…. Fundy turned the first few pages, and paused. It was filled with different instructions for going from one shape to another.

“Yes!” Fundy beamed, and while Dream could only chirp in response, he made up for that with enthusiasm. “Hm, let me just…” he flipped a few more pages, stopping at one that seemed to represent exactly what he was searching for. “...Alright, it’s worth a try, right?”

It surely was, because just seconds later, he was finally back! He was the himself he knew, the himself he felt comfortable with. And oh, what a relief that was. Still, knowing what it was like to be stuck in a different form all-too-well, he wasted no time before flipping some more pages, searching for something Dream could find helpful. Again, it just took a moment to find.

“Here, try this. It should work,” he announced, holding the book up to make sure the tiny blob creature could see it clearly. Dream nodded, stared at the page intensely, chirped quietly, and… with another quick flash of light, he was now a man sitting on a table.

“Oh, thank God!” he exclaimed the moment he looked down at himself. And now, with everything finally under control, Fundy allowed himself to laugh.

“We did it!” he cheered, holding up the book. “Oh, where was this all my life?” he asked before carefully putting it down. Dream seemed to collect himself rather quickly, and soon enough he was off the table already.

“I think you should keep it,” he commented, still occasionally looking down at himself to make sure everything was okay. “I’m sure my friend won’t mind. And we can always make a copy,” he explained.

“...Yeah, let’s do that,” Fundy agreed. “I should probably head home soon, though,” he pointed out.

“Oh yeah, we don’t want your father getting upset too,” Dream nodded in agreement. “Let’s go now, and I can come back to make copies of this book later.”

“Sounds good,” Fundy hummed, starting to walk to the door. Dream took a couple of bigger steps to stay at his side.

“Also, Fundy,” he started, getting the fox hybrid’s attention. “We do not speak of what happened here,” he said, but his tone was nowhere near threatening. Rather, embarrassed. Fundy nodded, but the grin on his face stayed in its place.

“Sure, sure… But for the record, you look cute as a tiny white blob… creature?” he answered, finally getting his revenge for Dream making him blush a few hours before.

“Uh, I did not?” the man insisted, but with the face he knew he was making, he couldn’t be more grateful for his mask.

“Mhm, sure, yeah,” Fundy nodded, and Dream couldn’t find anything he could say to retaliate. Eventually, he managed to calm himself enough to steer the conversation to a more serious one again.

“Uh, by the way, I just want to mention… if you ever feel like being a full human or a fox or anything around me, go ahead. I don’t mind,” he assured, and hearing that made Fundy feel a bit better about his ability.

“...Thanks. Same goes for you. I won’t mind having a pocket-sized boyfriend,” he joked, but his answer was just as genuine. Dream nodded.

“Thanks.”

They’d go over the fact that they were somehow both shapeshifters and that Dream somehow didn’t know anything about being one so far some other day. Some other, much longer day. A day they could spend talking just about that. Because boy, would that be a long conversation. At least it could be a fun one, though?

#fwtweek2021 #fundywastaken #fundy #dream #c!fundy #c!dream #wilbur #c!wilbur #fwt #mcyt #dream smp #my writing #Sorry if something went wrong but I had to post from mobile :sob:

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

#Original Work #original story #my work #Mirrors edge story

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perishman · 3 years

Text

The Prodigal Son

Hey so this is for @nastyburger and their Dannyverse AU. Just so you know, it’s an AU that may not make sense without checking them out

Danny B. Fenton snorted, ashen grey smoke erupting from his nose as Dani landed behind him. For the first time in years, he was at Fenton Works for christmas, home of now world famous ghost hunters Maddie and Jack Fenton, as well as their elder child, Jazzy. It was once his home too. He knocked on the door. He didn’t know why, since he was expected. He supposed he just hoped it was Jazzy who opened the door. He was afraid to phase in. His parents might not buy that they “just didn’t hear him come in” when he was the most anticipated part of the holiday.

After a few seconds of silent waiting, Dani turned to her brother, silently asking if he really wanted to go through with this. And B wasn’t entirely sure he was. But, he’d promised Jazzy he would make an effort. The Fentons were old by now; it was why the elder child had returned home. The door creaked open, violet eyes glancing out before it was thrown open to reveal Madeline Fenton, hunched over with hair more grey than red, her hands rough and boney. Danny’s smile was still half formed when she latched onto him with a hug. Maybe it was his Core that had always caused him so much trouble, but she was cold to the touch. Most humans were. Silently, Maddie waved him and Danielle in. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Danny felt the house take aim at them, reacting to their shared ecto-signature. Danny had once removed its ability to sense him and Dani, but Jack had yelled at him when he’d realized. Danny had pointed out that it could’ve been Jazzy, but the Fenton patriarch had rebuffed that by pointing out Jazzy followed instructions.

Soon, Jack approached from the tree, a somewhat strained smile on his face as he said, “‘Ello Daneil. It’s good to see you. Same t’ ya Elle.”

Danny nodded, “Hi Ja- Dad. and uh, yeah. Glad to see you both as well. Merry christmas.”

“If yer more comfortable callin’ me Jack, call me Sparrow for all I care. Haven’t been yer father in years,” Jack said gruffly. Danny noticed it sounded more irate than sad. More bitter than apologetic.

The halfa siblings each raised an eyebrow and held up some bags (Elle had food, B the gifts), to which a younger, less bitter voice rang out from behind, “Food on the counter, presents are hidden in the guestroom.”

Danny hugged Jazzy much tighter than his mother had done to him. He’d been meaning to call her for ages, bur grading and hunting had been eating up his time. Despite not being back here in ages, he didn’t need to ask where the guestroom was, given that there was only one option. When he got up there, he snorted. The bright blue walls still had the fades that came from his posters; it was the same desk, so on and so forth. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“They didn’t touch it for years, ya know. They were hoping you’d,” Jazzy said with a pause, “come home.”

The redhead ran his hand through his hair and laughed horsley, “Considering how I left? Why don’t I quite believe it was a bilateral decision?”

Jazzy pursed her lips, not having a response to that. There had been a lot of yelling that night. Ancients, it had been Christmas Even then too. For the longest time, the most that Jazzy, Sam or Tucker had heard was that Danny Phantom was more and more active than had been normal. That his fire had been tinted blue. It had been a terse few weeks, and everyone was frightened out of their minds trying to figure out where Fenton was staying. When they found out Vlad had taken him and promised to hide him… It had been a difficult time. Loathe as the Phantom was to admit it, Plasmius had supported his human half in a way no one else could, and Danny was in his debt.

Looking around the room some, Danny said, “I need to think about some stuff. You mind?”

Silently, Jazzy nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Danny looked around some more, and eventually found something he hadn’t seen in years. A picture of him with Sam and Tucker at eighteen, with the imprint of Dani in a nearly invisible red spot that almost no one else would see. If Danny had to hazard a guess, he was 19 here, and it was one of the last times he was happy at home. He sighed as he pocketed the picture and walked out. There was nothing more for him in that room, bar whatever present Jazzy had gotten him, he supposed.

“Look who decided to join ‘is family afta all,'' snorted the old man from the living room. Danni glared at Jack, who snorted.

Spitefully, Danny glared at his father and blew a smoke ring with his ghost sense. He knew it was childish, but Jack had been nothing but rude the entire time. To his surprise, it was his mother who glared at him with… a contempt usually reserved for Phantom... . Jack, for his part, almost seemed apologetic, before the mask was back on and he scowled. Both Jazzy and Danni rolled their eyes at their brother.

Sensing the tension bubbling beneath the surface that threatened to lash out, Jazzy turned to Danielle, and asked, “So. Elle? What’ve you been doing lately? Last I saw on instagram you were in, Madrid, right?”

Danni nodded, “Yep. Met a cute girl or two, which was nice. But Spain isn’t for me; not a fan of their food compared to Italian. Actually I spent the last few weeks of my europe trip in Milan. But I guess I forgot to post it…” she shrugged.

“Ooh, Milan. You have got to tell me all about it,” Jazzy said with a smile before she glanced at the falling snow.

Danny tried to listen, really. But Danni had already told him about her time in Milan (and the girls she met there in some form.) He felt himself zoning out, before his father jostled his shoulder and led him down to the lab. Danny wasn’t sure what he expected, but the lab was still the best kept part of the house bar hi- bar the guest room. His father had to take an automatic chair to carry him down. The radioactive green of the portal still illuminated the basement, but there was now a glass container that Danny could tell was lined with ectoplasm to prevent phasing. Smart. The eldest fenton offered a beer, which the son silently turned down. But soon Jack had sat the two of them down, like when Danny was a kid. Then, Jack had called them their ‘boys talks,’ but now it was clear what this was. Two broken men, trying to fix themselves by fixing the other.

“Now, you were always a bit oblivious on your best day. Which this most certainly isn’t. Suppose that’s my fault a bit. But, in case you hadn’t noticed. Your mother hasn’t said a word all day. Why do you think that is?”

Danny knew immediately, “Throat cancer. Jazzy told me a few weeks ago, when I was in Canada with Vlad… I tried calling, but…”

Jack snorted, whether he believed his son or not being unclear, “Right. Ya know, when you were a tyke, I wanted you t’ meet Vladdie,” a snort, “more than anything in the world. But now? I wish I’d never met ‘im myself. Would’ve saved my family. Would’ve saved him, come to think. Regardless. I want you to tell ‘er. Before she goes. So she knows who you really are.”

The room went cold, as Danny knew exactly what Jack meant, and he tried to force the hurt down in a level tone, before asking, “You knew? For how long?”

“Knew you had powers immediately. Saw you fall through your floor, but you were too comatose from the accident to remember. Didn’t know you were Phantom for a while, but when Vlad won his first term- unanimous votes my ass- I realized somethings about him. Things were cemented when I saw you beat him into transforming back to human. If somethin like that could happen from Vlad’s accident…” he gestured to Danny.

Danny stood, eyes burning with tears and ectoplasm as he snarled, “You knew. You had to know I wasn’t some druggie. And you still let mom send me to rehab? You still wasted weeks of my life. You tore me from my friends. You still sided with Mom in almost every fight. How dare you ask for me to give her my secret now? You don’t care. You just want your guilt off your chest and think I can do that.”

“I’m the reason it was rehab and not the dissection table. Maddie was on to you, you know. By timing alone, and the devices going off. But I lied to my own wife, your mother, for months. I regret what I had to do, but not what I did. I saved my son.”

That gave Danny pause. He wanted to believe it. But years of being alienated from his family made him wary. Part of him screamed that if Jack was being honest with him, he wouldn’t have let Danny risk life and limb with minimal intervention. He wouldn't have shot at him. But the boy that wanted to be a family again ached at the possibility opening up. At being his parents’ son again.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But after this? I don’t want to hear from you again, You’ll see me at the service, but after that, I’m gone.”

As he walked up the stairs, Jack sighed. Tears streamed down from the old man’s face. It was better Danny was angry at him, than the dying woman who’d nearly convinced him to experiment on his own son when they’d realized what happened. Jack didn’t see the incidents with Danny’s powers, it had been Maddie. And Jack had sent his son to rehab while he tried to talk his wife from the edge. He’d saved Danny, and all it cost him?

His son.

#Danny Phantom #dannyverse #danny b fenton #dani phantom #jack fenton #Maddie Fenton

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