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jay-and-dean · 4 years ago

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Don’t look down, Baby Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary : Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic.

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

Dean’s POV

I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

I had it all planned.

But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

And that guy is no Robert…

His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

Abe.

Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

Reader’s POV

I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

September 21, 08:12pm

“That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

Dean’s POV

That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

September 21, 11:49pm

Reader’s Pov

He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

Come already.

I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

Dean’s Pov

Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

September 28, 06:05pm

Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

Ew.

Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

When did we become like this ?

After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

A call.

So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

I can resist him. I can.

I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

Dean's Pov

She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years ago

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Day 4: Armageddon | Prompt List

Alex Mason x Reader

My very brief time in the walking dead fandom has prepared me for this exact moment

The heat of the city wafts into the broken windows of your stolen apartment. At long last the sirens and loud speakers all around the city have been silenced. They must assume there are no survivors.

Truth be told, you appreciated the constant noise while it lasted. It helped drown out the screams of the people.

You take a glance out your window. The fires are still raging from the anarchy and riots when this all began. You're not sure why you feel so compelled to keep checking, but you always scan the far away streets for any survivors.

So far, all you've seen is more shambling corpses.

Disgusted, you walk away and drop yourself on the couch. It's the end of the world.

Tears prick at your eyes. You scramble for your backpack. There, right there where it always is, is the one framed picture you have of you and your husband, Alex Mason.

You were on your way to pick him up from the airport when this all broke out you know. He'd just come back from deployment on another one of his highly classified missions. You didn't even get to see him come off the plane.

Everything was getting shut down. You saw the plane land, just as you were being forced to turn around and drive go to such and such quarantine area.

You thought you'd at least see him there, but the whole area was over run by the time you got there.

God, everything went downhill so fast...

You've just been trying to survive ever since. Alex taught you a few things about what to do in a crisis, and they've served you well, but you can't help but remember that you can only loot and run for so long.

You're just one person in a city full of infected. Things were worse back when the survivor zones were actually operating, thanks to the gangs and looters. You tried to get to just one, but had to flee for your life nearly every time.

You blink the memories away and focus on your picture again. A tear breaks free down your cheek as you take in Alex's smiling face. You trace a finger down his jaw. He's been through so much, and yet he works so hard to try and push it all out of his mind when he's with you.

He might not think of him self as such, but to you, he's your hero.

You look towards your window again. It's stupid, but... A part of you thinks maybe you're just waiting for him to rescue you.

A huff escapes you in spite of yourself. You sound so pathetic. But damn, do you miss him.

Days go by as you camp out in your lonely tower. Your last food run was a close call with the undead. You're perched on your window again, looking out but not seeing, as you contemplate moving camp.

Suddenly, the sound of gun fire goes off nearby. It's more common then you'd think with the roving gangs and scavengers, so you think little of it. You race to grab your rifle and post up.

A dinged up Humvee comes roaring up the street. Fuck. Maybe you'd better hide...

Another several shots go off a whoop goes up from on of the passengers.

"You like that you fuckers!"

Wait, you recognize that voice...

You peek over the ledge, and there he is. Frank Woods stands in the turret gunners spot of the vehicle, shooting into the crowd of zombies with no real discrimination. If Woods is here, then could he...

There. There, it's Alex, in the driver's seat. You know it.

You've never felt so frantic in your entire life. Shock and joy and relief wash over you all at once as you shoot up and wave your arms in the window. You scream Alex's name at the top of your lungs.

He came back for you.

Woods sees you first and dips down to tell his buddy the good news. The Humvee screeches to a stop and whips around to get it's passengers as close to the apartment entrance as possible.

A stream of happy tears flow down from you. Alex and Woods smash their way into the entryway as you race around to gather your things. There's so many thoughts going through your mind, you can't decide what you want to say when they get up here.

Soon enough you hear your name being called from down the hall. You race to your door and throw it open while the other two make their way down.

Relief and joy like you've never seen before washes over Alex's face when he sees you. He stops dead for a moment, frozen with overwhelming elation, before he sprints up to meet you.

A small shriek escapes you as he snatches you up in his arms and gives you a spin. When he sets you down, he refuses to let go, holding you as tight as can be like he ever wants to let go again.

"I thought I lost you", he whispers through his tears into your hair and kisses you again.

You sniffle and smile. You know how he feels.

"Alright, very touching, can we get the fuck out of here!", Woods breaks up the moment, looking a little antsy to get back out of there.

Alex rolls his eyes, but relinquishes his hug and takes your hand instead. "Come on, we're getting you somewhere safe"

You look up at him filled with wonder. The way he says that makes even you feel confident about your escape.

He's definitely your hero.

#haha you thought i forgot about todays fic huh?#black ops cold war #call of duty #alex mason x reader

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

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Tuesday 20 September 1836

12 25

No kiss fine but rather hazy and F46° now at 8 10 am breakfast at 9 ¼ to 10 - out (about) till breakfast - had Mr. Husband for a minute or 2 - Heblethwaite wants to take the low place of A- and let the other low place and all the chamber over both low places be made into one cottage - agreed to by A- if Heblethwaite will give 20/. a year for the low place he wants - had John Booth son-in-law after breakfast - I spoke to him for A- said Heblethwaite wanted the separate cottage - the man (Johns’ son-in-law) thought the other cottage would not suit him but would consider about it, and let us know - thought of a little rent - 40/. or 50/. the utmost - I said there was little to be had for under £3 thus insinuating tho’ not saying that A- might ask £3 for the cottage with the large chamber - the man thought the new sort of [homes?] would require a height of 15ft.! had before had Thomas Pearson to complain of Mark Hepworth carting stuff (stones-rag) for the meer-head goit in a narrow wheeled cart - Pearson very angry at him - thought to stop him - said I would make all up as well as I could - I too was annoyed at Mark but TP- to blow him up and all damages should be made up - afterwards had Mark himself - Robert Mann had sent at 9 this morning for stone - must have them - Mark’s broad wheeled carts not then at home - Mark came with a message from Mr. Charles Robinson to say he should give up the 2 marshes - was going immediately to settle at Manchester - Mar wishes to take the 2 fields - said I would settle about it by and by, and would remember his application - odd conduct said I, of Mr. Charles R-, for Miss Walker knew nothing of it - had had (about 11 am) John Oates and Thomas Pearson about the road that my father and they and 53 persons in all signed a paper guarantying their payment of the expense of a trial at York respecting the road that Mr. Waddington wished to throw upon the town - the trial was gained by the 53 but Mr. Higham now comes upon them for expense - to the amount of near £300 - had sent a written directed to 19 out of the 53 - a towns meeting to be held on Thursday - told them to let me know what passed but I declined having anything to do with the business - Miss Marian was the person to be applied on account of my father - from 10 am to 7 busy looking over the workmen or siding kitchen chamber for John Booth to sleep and drab room for the footman and groom expected tonight at 10 took Booth and Abraham to pull up the sink in the kitchen to be rest in the buttery and the buttery stone table put into the kitchen where the sink was (under the window) - Abraham and James did it, and had got it moved by about 6 - I had left them ½ hour and they had cut the magnificently large slab of stone to let in the miserable water pipe which with a moment’s trouble (the hole being cut in the wrong place) I had pushed back into the wall - my grief - may absolute affliction at this [sacrilege] on the stone-table -said nothing crossly - but said and shewed how grieved I was - under the table put the upper kitchen dresser that stood under the window - a capital and most convenient fit - the hall-cellar left today for the kitchen job that will take all tomorrow to finish it - Booth and 3 masons setting ashler at the West tower when fair (rain from about 10 to near 12) - Robert Schofield and Joseph Sharpe scoured the servants hall floor, and the stalls (wood and paving) of the front table - the plasterer and his man fellow washed front stable and jobbed about - the 2 York joiners Bligh doing front stable finished out end-stalls and put on skirting board - and Thomas jobbing in the house - moving and repairing the dresser - doing up cupboard in the wall in the housekeeper’s room etc - Frank (and John Booth helping him) moved from Conery to Mytholm - just before dinner had the Currier about A-‘s Hatters’ fold cottage n°1 - A- agreed to let him have it, and the attick over n°2 for £8 the 1st year and she thought it would be worth £9 the 2nd year - he thought he could get her a respectable tenant for the 2 rooms of cottage n°2 at £5 a year - dinner at 7 10 - made our own coffee - about an oz. (good measure) to 4 cups - too weak - A- read a little French - I afterwards sided a little till 9 55 then 25 minutes with my aunt - Mr. Jubb came between 10 and 11 this morning and thought my aunt better - I do not think her better this evening than she was yesterday evening - from 10 ½ to 11 35 read tonights’ paper and wrote all the above of today - rain from about 10 am till noon - afterwards during the afternoon and evening several light showers - F42° now at 11 35 pm - Anarchy in Portugal now as in Spain - the Portugal constitution of 1820 proclaimed the republican sister of the Spanish constitution of 1812 - letter tonight from William Waddington mason, Keighley, complaining that Mr. Husband had let him the Water lane mill steam-engine boiler to set, and then without why or wherefore relet the job - WW- civilly asks for some recompense

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patrick-hockstutter · 5 years ago

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Modern!Bowers Gang:

Patrick:

Really into cinematography and photography of the unsettling

Never captions his Instagram posts

Goes live on Instagram a lot, even though people really wished he wouldn’t

Makes art out of dead animals or animal bones he finds

Think Banksy, but with roadkill

He’ll take some (somehow) tasteful photos of them, post them, then leave the scene there for some unexpecting bystander to find

Has a nosering (fight me)

Never uses incognito mode

If someone happens to stumble upon his search history, he’s not paying their therapy bill

He likes reading smut more than he likes watching porn

A ps4 guy

Loves spooky games like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Until Dawn and Death Stranding

He’s not really into school, but he surprisingly reads a lot when he’s alone in his room

Only about things he likes though

Abnormal psych, criminal psych, and sometimes some zoology (u kno y)

Watches serial killer documentaries like he’s paid to

Listens to grunge, nu metal, and 80s alt

Won’t admit it, but sometimes listens to Joji

He’s not super into emo music, but he’s the only one who will listen to it with Victor (he fckn vibes to Brand New)

Ironically uses a Zune

Has an Android but lowkey wishes he had an iPhone

Doesn’t have a computer, just jailbreaks/hacks the school issued laptop

Has a black line tattooed around some of his fingers, one of his wrists, and the shell of his ear

Has a foot tattoo

Has a fucking Juul

Watches LeafyIsHere on YouTube (tell me I’m wrong)

Spends too much time on Reddit

Wears flannels, skinny jeans, and Vans (a beanie if he’s cold)

Mostly cycles through the same three or four outfits

Wears the same pair of Vans every single day

Victor:

Big into aromatherapy

He uses lavender soaps and has an essential oil diffuser in his room

Uses incognito mode to watch Vampire Diaries

A Nintendo ass b i t c h

He has the gray Switch Lite

He brings his Switch with him everywhere (yes he’s that guy)

But what else are you gonna do when you wanna ignore Patrick?

Watches conspiracy theories about ghosts, cryptids, and aliens

Also big into podcasts (mostly true crime and conspiracy ones)

He listens to them on his headphones while he takes walks or draws

Posts his drawings on Tumblr

Does art streams on Twitch when he gets really bored

Has an eyebrow piercing (but it’s a small stud one, not a ring)

Has little tattoos on his hands

Wears bomber jackets, skinny jeans, joggers, army jackets, converse, and combat boots

The boy has style okay

Had an emo phase but still listens to the music (especially Tiny Moving Parts)

The emo phase was pretty short because Henry made fun of him so much

He just fucking liked MCR and Taking Back Sunday a lot, okay?

And Pierce The Veil and Sleeping With Sirens, but he doesn’t readily admit that

Now mostly listens to new wave, synth pop, and lofi hiphop

His favorite bands are Drab Majesty and Choir Boy (look up their new album btw)

Has a black iPhone and a space gray MacBook Pro

Uses Apple Music

Vapes, but only fruity flavors

Watches BoJack Horseman

Doesn’t really eat fast food but never passes up an M&M McFlurry

Paints his (and Patrick’s) nails black

One time Patrick caught him doing a facemask, so Patrick put one on and started chasing him around screaming as a joke

Cue: hmm… this feels kinda good tho

So now Victor and Patrick have secret mini spa days

Drives a Subaru

Belch:

Makes Spotify playlists like he’s paid to

He’s just really good at putting songs together

He tried to get into music theory, but he wasn’t one for actually making his own songs

Really into metal (obvi) but also likes some classic rock and punk stuff

Has records hung up side by side all around his room where the wall meets the ceiling

Still buys CDs

His Instagram feed is full of vintage cars and custom import cars

Fast and Furious is his favorite movie series

His favorite shows are Sons of Anarchy and The Walking Dead

But he also loves early 2000s comedies

Has a mini projector to watch movies on his room wall

Wears band tees, flannels, jean jackets, Carhartt stuff, d a d h a t s

Really wants a tattoo but always gets nervous

Uses incognito mode to watch porn and buy some of his band tees from Hot Topic

Only one in the gang that uses Facebook (Mama Huggins made him so he could keep in contact with family)

Follows a few meme pages but also some cooking ones so he can send his mom any cool recipes he finds

Victor lowkey makes fun of him for actually using the Facebook page

Invests money in really good headphones and car speakers

Has a black iPhone

It’s always at 20% battery cause it’s always connected to his headphones, Bluetooth speaker, or car stereo

Him and Victor FaceTime when they’re bored

Sometimes they won’t even say much, they just like the over the phone company

Doesn’t smoke, but sometimes hits Vic’s vape

A social vaper if you will

Watches Idubbbz and Filthy Frank on YouTube

His favorite fast food place is Wendy’s

Not really into video games but fucking slays at Guitar Hero

And when Rock Band came out nobody saw him for like two weeks

Has a black Hydroflask with band stickers on it

Henry:

He plays a lot of Xbox

Mostly Halo, COD, Destiny, any first-person shooter really

Baits people on Xbox Live cause he thinks it’s hilarious

He’s also a fucking cyberbully but we all expected that

Has Victor’s old iPhone

Never fucking charges it

He’ll text you back in 3-5 business days (if at all)

And if you try to call him he’ll block your number

Plays iMessage games like cup pong and 8 ball with Belch

The only social media he uses is Snapchat and Tinder to look at girls

In one of his Tinder photos he’s holding a fish (srrynotsrry)

Doesn’t really listen to too much music

He doesn’t dislike music, just usually prefers to do things in silence

His mind is chaotic enough, he doesn’t need background noise

But he will listen to Cigarettes After Sex and TV Girl on a really low volume when he goes to sleep

Uses incognito mode to pick and choose random soft or angsty songs that he likes to put into a bedtime playlist

Otherwise just listens to whatever Belch listens to

Has a tattoo on his wrist

Takes a lot of drives into the countryside/national forests/mountains with Belch

Takes a lot of scenery photos, but never posts them anywhere or shows anyone except Victor

Still smokes cigarettes (he thinks vaping is douchey)

Watches South Park and American Dad

If he’s willing to spend money to go see a movie, he’s going to an IMAX theater

Sometimes he likes 3D, but most of the time it just hurts his eyes after a while

Longboards everywhere

Needs prescription glasses but refuses to wear them

They’re mostly for reading, which he doesn’t do anyway

But he does listen to audiobooks sometimes

Likes Frappuccinos but will kill you before you find out

He orders them through Uber Eats under a fake name so nobody will find out

BONUS: all four!

Victor still has his childhood GameCube that they play Mario Party, Mario Kart, and Melee on

Henry is banned from playing Mario Party after breaking a controller while beating Patrick with it

Patrick only ever picks Waluigi in Mario Kart and everyone is sick of it

When they play Rock Band Patrick is on bass, Henry plays guitar, Belch absolutely slays the drums, and Vicky boy sings his lil heart out

One night a week they order a shit ton of Dominos and make a drinking game out of watching Vine compilations

Victor does everyone’s birth charts

They collectively made a fake Tinder account on Patrick’s phone and catfish guys with it

They all try to one up each other doing vape tricks yikes

They buy bags of chips and candy from Costco and lounge around eating them on weekends

They’re banned from the city metro busses because Belch’s car was in the shop for a week and that week was hell for every bus driver in the city

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littlemisssquiggles · 4 years ago

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Hello! Long time no see! I read your Cinder the Red Queen theory, and it's really cool! Cinder is one of my favorite characters (even if I don't watch RWBY anymore) and it would be really awesome to see Cinder play a really big role, besides "revenge on Ruby". Although, I am personally more of a Cinder Redemption Arc fan. So, hypothetically, if Cinder were to get one such redemption arc, how do you think it would play out?

Hiya Yellow! Yeah it has been a while. Sorry I took so long to get back to you. Slowly working through my backlog of posts inside my inbox. Anyways, how have you been fam? And in the literal immortal words of one Oscar Pine, wait…WHAT! When did you stop watching RWBY? ! D8

What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, how come you’re not watching anymore? Is it because you just fell out of love with the series as a whole after being disappointed with its current direction or did all the discourse surrounding the show (and by extension RT as well) drive you to stop?

Sad to hear you’re no longer in the FNDM man. But on a different note, allow me to say thank you! Knowing that you’re a Cinder fan, I’m happy to hear that you liked my Red Queen headcanon for her. Much appreciated.

And yes, I do remember you being an advocate for Cinder’s redemption as well. In response to writing a Cinder redemption arc, I’m gonna be frank.

Given the way the canon has portrayed Cinder’s character, both in previous seasons and currently, redemption is still the last thing I can envision for your favourite Fall Maiden m’dude. I’ve never seen Cinder getting redeemed as a possibility since to me, the show hasn’t shown enough evidence of her being empathetic to anyone else other than herself to make me believe there’s a chance for her to change for the greater good.

The only way I can picture Cinder going is either she is given the Adam Taurus treatment---unceremoniously killed off despite the series keeping her relevant to the story for so long or…Cinder survives long enough to rise up and see herself becoming the all-powerful entity she desires to be---ultimately walking out of Salem’s shadow to overthrow her and replace her as the Red Queen and succeeding within a short time what Salem has failed to do for centuries---thrusting Remnant into utter anarchy in the form of a second Great War sparked by one of the kingdoms (possibly Mistral) declaring war against the remaining three kingdoms hoping to conquer them all after learning that the great Atlas Kingdom has fallen along with the former Mantle.

One kingdom to rule them all and this was all done through Cinder puppeteering her pawns in the Mistral Council through her newly awakened abilities after finally succumbing to the Geist Grimm and becoming something more than human--- a Grimm with a soul and a conscience. A Grimm-human hybrid or Grimmoire as I’d like to say.

Instead of being redeemed, I more favour the idea Cinder becoming a bigger threat to Remnant than Salem who I peg would be defeated, purified of her darkness (courtesy of Ruby’s silver eyes) and stripped of any magic that she had, courtesy of Cinder betraying her.

Cinder’s whole “…Without you, I am nothing” statement from the trailer is just giving me huge red flags for her to eventually realize that she can probably do better than Salem without her holding her back. The student does eventually become the master, right? So why not expect Cinder to replace Salem as the main big antagonist of RWBY with her reign being the true threat of Remnant in a time of war?

I really, really like the idea of the main conflict of RWBY not being the war with Salem but the rise of Cinder Fall and the second Great War of Remnant. I think such a plotline would be cool especially looking back on the fact that Oz had told General Ironwood that he prayed that his students---the children whose futures and development were entrusted to him---would never have to face the pains and strife of war like his predecessor: King Phadrig of Vale, once did long ago.

It would actually be very compelling to watch our heroes attempting to survive a dire time when the world was divided with two of its founding kingdoms in shambles while one tried to conquer them all (Mistral) and another daring to defend them all (Vacuo). The first Great War lasted ten years. Imagine if…it were the same for the second with time fast-forwarding to another period ten years later when all of our young heroes were now grown adults. No longer naïve children enamoured by the huntsmen lifestyle but seasoned warriors doing what they could to help the people in a dark world where war raged, humanity pleaded for their salivation and the Grimm feasted.

That could’ve been nice. But…I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’m not sure if anything like that will actually happen in the show. Still it’s good to share the idea around.

Going back to Cinder, like I said---right now I can’t see a redemption arc for Cinder.

As I said, the core reason why I’ve never been for Cinder being a redeemable character is due to the fact that up until this point, the series has done very little to establish her having any positive qualities. Cinder has sadly been selfish through and through making it very clear multiple occasions that she’s only out for herself. For me to have pictured Cinder to be a redeemable character, the series would’ve need to introduce a sort of “buffer character”---for lack of a better term. Basically when I say a buffer character, I mean in terms of a character who could’ve acted as a sort of foil to Cinder---seeing through her power-hungry nature and faults and thus revealing to the audience a much more relatable, sympathetic and emotionally vulnerable side to her through her relationship with said buffer.

The best example of this type of dynamic for me in an animated media is the relationship between Prince Zuko and his Uncle Iroh from Avatar the Last Airbender. In that series, Iroh was Zuko’s buffer character---the one person who saw through Zuko’s acts of aggression and appealed to the side of him that was just a insecure young man lacking any real support in his life and wanting nothing more than to do his best to appease an abusive father just so that he can feel a sense of belonging in the world.

It was through his bond with his uncle that I, as a viewer, was able to believe in Zuko’s redemption arc since it was only with Iroh did we see a more open side to Zuko---the side that reminded us that outside of his status as Prince of the Fire Nation leading the charge to capture the Avatar---outside of that, Zuko was only a boy in need of guidance. Guidance that Iroh attempted to provide him on multiple occasions.

Going back to Cinder, this is what I would have needed to make her redeemable. Give her a character who is the only one to see her more vulnerable side. Using what we know about the series, I’d say Emerald Sustrai could’ve easily been Cinder’s buffer. In the show, RWBY already established Cinder as a sort of motherly/sister figure based on Emerald’s perception of her.

Through Emerald, the show could’ve used her close ties with Cinder to show a side to her that we often don’t see. A side that actually cares for Emerald or at least better fools Emerald (and by extension us as the audience) into thinking that she cares. Ironically enough, the show could’ve had Cinder mirror Salem in this regard.

The reason why I’m more of an advocate for Salem’s redemption over Cinder is because UNLIKE Cinder, the show has given me moments of Salem being genuinely kind and caring to others. We saw this with the way she loved Ozma and would’ve done anything to get him back before her self-interest and hatred toward the Brother Gods consumed her.

We saw this in the Lost Fable and to some degree, even though she is another pawn to her, I’d like to think that the way Salem treats Cinder is akin to a mother. My issue with Salem isn’t that she is incapable of caring about others, it’s that no matter what, she will never put them before herself. It will always be her first and others second. At least that’s what I interpreted and it for this reason while her curse will remain.

However at least the show has shown examples of Salem showing compassion towards other. This is something I have yet to see from Cinder Fall. To me, Cinder is lacking that side of her.

Salem is selfish but as strange as this for me to say, I don’t think she’s entirely heartless. It’s kind of complicated when it comes to Salem but this just adds onto why I find her character fascinating. This is what makes the difference for me between her and Cinder and separates the two.

Salem is selfish but is capable of empathy and a surprising amount of mercy in unexpected moments (like in the way she treats Cinder for example. Salem could’ve easily offed Cinder for her failures like how she ended Lionheart but instead she left her be. And judging from the V8 trailer, even as Cinder came grovelling back to her, Salem still seemed to mostly react to Cinder’s return with an air of a strict parent who isn’t angry at their child but more disappointed. And oddly enough she did the same thing with Tyrian back in V4)

Cinder, on the other hand, shares in Salem’s self-centred nature but lacks any kind of compassion. Cinder is heartless.

Sorry Yellow, picturing a redemption arc for Cinder Fall is tough for me, even hypothetically speaking. I mean, if the show had done something with Cinder akin to Zuko---having her gain the power and status she’s always wanted only to have it result in her losing the only good relationship she had in Emerald thus leading to her falling from grace again after realizing her mistakes---then I could see it.

Or…perhaps the show could’ve pulled an Azula type of redemption for Cinder. Have her gain the power she desired at the cost of her own humanity and she loses herself in the process, becoming a monster and realizing her mistakes too late. And in the end, despite everything she’s been through and in spite of all that she put her through, the only person to appear before Cinder in her time of death after falling from her mistakes is Emerald.

I like the irony of Emerald cradling a dying Cinder Fall, choosing even then not to hate her and remain with her until her last dying breathe as her way of finally paying her back for saving her from her former life of poverty; giving her a new sense purpose in life outside of being a street rat.

That could’ve worked, at least me. But again, this is only if the show had further developed Emerald and Cinder’s bond. I genuinely wished the show had explored more of Cinder’s ties to Emerald. This is why I wanted Emerald to be Cinder’s accomplice for Atlas instead of Neopolitan. We could’ve watched Emerald’s character grow further through her separating herself from Salem’s legion and devoting herself entirely to Cinder. We could’ve watched Cinder even entice Emerald with the prospect of her ruling beside Cinder in the new world she would’ve aided her to build for Salem.

At the end of the day, as Emerald implied back in V5, she doesn’t care that much for Salem. The only person of interest to Emerald Sustrai is Cinder so this makes me curious to see what their reunion would be like for V8. I highly doubt Salem just ups and left Emerald, Mercury and Hazel back in the Dark Domain. Unless they were sent off to Vacuo to retrieve the Sword of Destruction, they’re bound to be there with Salem inside of Grimm Monstro so I’m looking forward to seeing the look on Emerald’s face when she realizes to her dismay that in her absence, she had been replaced with Neo.

It would be interesting watching how Emerald deals with this development in addition to seeing where her story goes from here now that her beloved Cinder Fall is back with her but not really with HER, y’know what I’m saying? Perhaps this could lead to Emerald going out of her way to get back onto Cinder’s good side mirroring Cinder attempting to return to Salem’s.

“…Without you, I am NOTHING!” “…I don’t care about Salem but I owe Cinder for EVERYTHING!”

It’ll be a game of watching apprentices regain the faith of their masters as Emerald is Cinder’s apprentice while Cinder is Salem’s. This should be a fun development to observe for next season

…Sorry if I haven’t exactly answered your question Yellow. Truth be told, I don’t have much ideas for how Cinder could be redeemed. However I do stand by my points about Emerald being used to show a different side to Cinder. It’s a shame this wasn’t done much in the canon. But who knows? Maybe something might be done to change that for V8.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#squiggles anwers: rwby #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #rwby salem #rwby theories #rwby volume 8 theories #yellow-eyed-green-crocodile #squiggles answers

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

Text

Jigsaw // Black: Part One

I’m Comin’

A/N: I struggled on how to finish off this series with these last three parts. Up until now, the whole thing has been entirely from Billy’s POV. But this last section is... a little different, so I hope you don’t mind. This immediately follows the events of Red. Billy’s taken his revenge on almost everyone. He’s just got one more person to deal with.

Warnings: character death,

Word Count: 3,368

The phone rang as his boots stepped cautiously through the door, gun raised and eyes scanning every inch of the room. Come on, pick up. The rubber sole of his right foot caught on a broken length of chain, and he immediately dropped his gaze downward. Rolling his foot off of the debris, he noticed the splintered pieces of the shattered door frame, the small brass screws that used to hold up the dead bolt. Another unanswered ring echoed in his ear. Come on Madani, answer. Come on. He’d known the door was open from down the hall, the wedge of light spilling onto the carpet a giveaway. Combined with the fact that she’d missed his last call, he knew it wasn’t good, the bullet holes in the floorboards and sheetrock confirming his assessment. The tinny sound of the ringer came through the speaker for a third time as he noticed the lamp that had been knocked from the side table, the casings on the ground, the splotches of blood, crimson against the soft white rug. Shit. Looking over his shoulder to check his corners, he crossed the room following the path of destruction.

And then someone picked up.

He froze at the click as the call was answered, squaring his shoulders and lowering his pistol, a familiar voice speaking his name. “Frank.”

Goddamn it. “Russo.” Neither of the men had bothered with preamble, neither of them questioning.

“Yeah, Frankie, it’s me.” There was hardened hatred in Billy’s tone, a harshness that amplified his accent. “Who were you expecting?” It was more than sarcastic, it was sardonic, it was a taunt and Frank felt his nostrils flare.

“What’d you do, Bill, huh? Where’s Madani, she with you?”

“Nah,” He tried for casual, but the disdain was too sharp, poking through the thin layer of pretense enough so that Frank could hear something else; a ragged breath drawn between words. “She ain’t with me.” He’s hit. His eyes darted back to the crimson stains on the white carpet as they started to dry to a crusty brownish black. “She’s with you. Why don’t you take a look around the place?” Billy took another quick, hissing inhale, and Frank guessed that he’d just dug a bullet fragment from a wound. “Are you gonna look, Frank?” There was a stifled grunt followed by a metallic clang as Billy dislodged the bullet and dropped it onto a table. It was a sound pairing that he knew well having heard it in person enough times to be sure. “Or are you just gonna stand there in front of the windows like an easy target?”

He’s bluffing. But that thought didn’t stop Frank from glancing towards the tall, wide panes of glass that made up most of one side of the room, didn’t stop him from shifting a few feet to the right and out of range. Frank knew better than to assume that he wasn’t constantly in someone’s cross hairs. Despite everything that had happened between him and the man on the other end of the phone, it didn’t change the fact that underestimating Billy Russo’s skill as a sniper could and would prove deadly. “Ah, come on, you’re not in range. I know you’re not in range.” I’d be dead if he was. “I know you’re not in range ‘cause I’m still standin’ here, Bill.” Frank raised his pistol back up and took a tentative step down the hall towards the bedrooms, still cautiously checking his corners, peering over and behind bookshelves and closet doors as he moved.

A dark, humorless laugh came through the speaker. “When you’re right you’re right, Frank. Boy. Do you know me or what?” A stretching sound followed by a quick rip told Frank that Billy had moved on to the bandaging phase of his wound care, his voice evening back out as he spoke. “I think maybe you’re the one that knows me best, actually.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Russo, I know you. I know you won’t stop somethin’ ‘til it’s finished, so why don’t you tell me where you are and we’ll finish it, huh? You and me, just like you want it. Why don’t you tell me where-”

“I know you too, Frank!” Billy growled into the phone, a primal rage corrupting his tone in a way that Frank had never heard, a way that the old Billy wouldn’t have let happen because it would give away too much. “I know you just as well as you know me. I know how you think. I know what makes you tick. I know what sets you off.”

“That right? Tell me then, what do you know, huh? What makes me tick?” He opened a door on his left with his foot, gun, then eyes, then head peering through the doorway to find an empty office, desk scattered with papers, a glass of bourbon leaving a ring of condensation on them, one drawer left hastily opened. Clear.

“Did you find her yet, Frank?” He’d reigned himself back in, regaining the icy control that was nearly synonymous with his name. “Tick tock. Tick tock.”

The door to the bedroom was open, and Frank followed the droplets of blood like a trail, eyes scanning the walls, registering the scratch marks tearing through the textured paper and gouging into the plaster beneath. A dense, heavy weight dropped through Frank’s chest as he calculated the odds of finding her alive, realizing that they were plummeting with every step he took. As he got closer he was met with the rushing sound of running water as it spilled out of the tap and onto the tiles. No, no, no. “Bill, what’d you-”

“Tick tock,” was all he responded with.

Frank moved quickly toward the open door of the bathroom and the source of the water, squelching through the shallow puddle that had spilled over the marble flooring and into the beige carpet. Glancing down he saw that it was tinted, pinkish swirls of diluted hemoglobin flowing through the stream. No. His eyes followed the bloody water back to the bathtub, where it poured over the edge of the pristine white porcelain. “No, no, no. Goddamn it Russo!” He rushed in but he already knew he was too late by the tilt of her head as it rested at an odd angle against the rim of the tub, eyes open and staring blankly into a corner, frozen in terror. He knew she was dead before he tossed his gun to the ground and plunged his arm beneath the water to grab for her wrist. He knew she was gone before he pressed his fingers to the stagnant spot where her pulse should be, before he switched to her throat finding it just as unresponsive. But instinct and habit were impossible to break, and even though he knew without a doubt that Billy had made sure there was no way she’d pull through, he had to see for himself. Goddamn it- I’m sorry, Madani. He slowly reached for the tap and closed it, cutting off the water and filling the room with deafening silence.

Blinding anger burned behind Frank’s eyes as he tore them away from her limp form, his insides vibrating. “I should have killed you, Bill,” he seethed. “I should have killed you when I had the chance and that’s my mistake. I have to live with that.” I have to live with Madani’s blood on my hands.

“Sounds like you found her, Frankie.” His tone was cold, like surgical steel, slicing through the room.

Billy’s venom-spiked casual monotony stoked that red hot rage inside of him as he rose to his feet, recovering his gun. He took a breath through his nose, top lip curling and twitching. “Enough.” He’s killed enough people, enough innocent people...women.

Either Billy didn’t hear the low, gravelly word, or he was choosing to ignore it. “Frank? I need you to tell me if you found her. I need you to-”

“I said enough, Russo!” He barked into the phone. He’s ruined enough lives.

“No, no, it’s not enough, Frank!” The steel lost its edge, turning rusty and jagged, hacking and sawing. “It’s not enough, it will never be enough! I lost everything! Everything that mattered- the only thing that mattered! I lost...I lost her, and this?” He let out a burst of air that sounded like mad laughter, a concoction of anarchy and tears mixed with the gall of a man with nothing left to squander. “This? This was nothing, Frank. This was what that...that, that bitch deserved.”

“She didn’t deserve to die! Madani didn’t kill her, she didn’t-”

“Yes she did! She did, and so did you.” Frank stiffened, chest tightening. I did. I killed her. Of all the morally questionable things he’d done, all the gray areas he’d traversed, all the dark alleys he’d gone down, the fact that it had been his bullet that had pierced your heart that night was one of the things that ate at him like acid on his conscious. If he was going to fault Billy for the innocent lives he’d taken, he was going to fault himself for taking yours. The pain and hatred he had in his heart weren’t for you. He never wanted to hurt you, would never have thought to use you to hurt Billy. It was an accident, it was...I never...but I did.

“Yeah. Yeah, Bill, it was me.” He clenched his jaw and swallowed, knowing that this guilt was part of the game Billy was playing. He left the room, suddenly unable to stand there any longer, unable to be in the room with Madani, unable to sit with the visceral reminder that he’d let her down in the most final of ways. “So why don’t you tell me where you are, huh? Tell me and I’ll come give you the chance you really want.” The chance that I want. That I need. The chance to end this.

There was a pause and he wondered if Billy had expected him to deny his involvement in your death. He sniffed, and when he responded, Frank heard something that sounded like actual sorrow in his tone. “You know where I am. Where I shoulda been. With her. Where we all shoulda been… You know where I am, don’tcha Frank?”

The warehouse. He’s talking about… He knew without a doubt that he was right, a specific conversation coming to mind that transported him through time, back to the desert, back to when he and Billy were still brothers.

“I’m workin’ on somethin’ big, Frankie,” Billy said one afternoon while the two of them were killing time, Frank messing around on his guitar and Billy with a book that he wasn’t reading propped open on his chest. He sat up and looked over at Frank who set his instrument down on his knee. With a twist of his shoulders and a lick of his lips, he continued. “Somethin’ for after, somethin’ for guys like us, like you’n me.”

After. Frank hadn’t ever heard Billy talk about an after. The Marines were his life for as long as Frank had known him, and he knew what had brought the change. It’s that girl’a his. He wants to have a real life. “Yeah?”

Billy nodded, his dark, intense eyes focused and sharp as he moved the book aside and swung his legs over the edge of his cot, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Yeah. Private security. Somethin’ where guys can use the skills they learned, the experience they gained. Somethin’... to make us feel like we’re still worth somethin’ when this,” he gestured around the dusty tent, “is all over.”

Frank tilted his chin. “Fighter like you? Didn’t think it was ever gonna be over for you, Bill.” He moved his guitar off his lap and mirrored Billy’s position, boots to the ground and knees bent.

Billy nodded, looking down at his hands, the knuckles of one resting in the palm of the other, his elbows on his thighs. He shook his head, hair falling loosely into his face as he raised his eyes back up. “Yeah,” he let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Neither did I if I’m bein’ honest.” He wet his lips, one cheek pulling up into a smirk that confirmed Frank’s suspicion that you were on his mind. “But I got somethin’ now,” he punched his fist into his hand with a smack, left knee bouncing twice. “Somethin’ I can’t lose, somethin’ I-” He swallowed, brow furrowing.

Frank spared him the struggle of trying to find the words. This is new territory for him. He spoke your name and watched Billy’s face smooth back out. Yeah, thought so.

“She believes in me, Frank. She,” he shook his head again, sitting up straight and rolling his shoulders back. “I’m good at this,” he raised his hand and motioned down his body, indicating his fatigues, dog tags and boots. “I’m good at fightin’, good at what I do, right?” It was a rhetorical question. Billy was without a doubt the best soldier Frank had ever known. He could strike silently, could attack and keep coming, could separate himself from the task at hand and could do whatever it took to achieve the mission goals. “No one ever thought I’d be good for anythin’ else.” He shrugged, no self pity in his tone, just acceptance of the way things were. “I mean, it’s all I been doin’ my whole life, right?”

Again, he wasn’t looking for an answer, but Frank gave him one anyway. “Damn right. Toughest sonuva bitch I ever met.”

“She does, Frank. She thinks… I told her what I’m plannin’ and she…” He laughed. “You know how we spent my last day back home?” Frank’s eyebrow flew up on that word. Home, Bill? You’re calling it home now? “In a goddamn dirty old warehouse. She,” he let out a breath. “She wanted to see one of the places I was lookin’ at for a training facility and, shit I mean, I don’t have the money for it yet, but,” there was excitement in his tone, and determination in his eyes. “But she really... “ He gave another shake of his head, eyes flicking back down to his boots before they came back up to Frank’s. “I can’t lose that. Can’t lose her, and this shit?” Another wave at their surroundings. “I don’t wanna do this shit forever, Frankie. You don’t want to either.”

“You don’t want to either,” Billy had said. But if Frank was being truthful with himself, he wasn’t sure if that was the case, then or even now. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I know where you are.” Kicking aside the broken hinges and locks as he strode from the apartment, his adrenaline rose like a tidal wave. “I’m comin’.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

“Good.”

The phone went dead with a click and Billy dropped it on the hard concrete floor. The screen shattered in a web across the glass surface before he kicked it into the pile of plastic and wires that used to be a laptop. Flexing his injured arm and opening and closing his hand, he tested the bandage that he’d just applied, making sure it was secure enough to stop the bleeding; that it wouldn’t hinder his movement as he prepared to face Frank. Satisfied that the tape and gauze would hold, he pulled his arm back through the sleeve of his shirt, and immediately got to work.

Madani’s gun was tucked into his waistband, the steel of the barrel chilling the skin of his abdomen where a thick, jagged scar crossed his gut. It wasn’t fully loaded, and Billy made sure to keep in mind exactly how many shots he’d be able to take. It only takes one good one. The knife he’d acquired was tucked into the pocket of his jeans, able to flick open as soon as it was needed, the blade cleaned and ready to quench it’s blood lust again. One slice to the right spot. He tipped over old filing cabinets, hauled broken furniture and containers, configuring them into a makeshift barricade. One more time, Frankie, you’n me. Billy paced from window to window, blinking out at the darkening sky, at the black silhouettes of towers and smokestacks. Nothin’ to do but wait.

A sharp, blinding flash went off in his head. Nothin’ to do but wait, I guess. A cold current ran through him as he leaned back against his pillow, staring at the walls of the tent as they flapped in the wind. Frank was fuming silently a few feet away. Neither of them had said a word after leaving the briefing. They’d said all they had to say when they’d voiced their opinions. Their words, having fallen on ignorant ears, didn’t matter anymore so they kept them to themselves. There was always a level of unease in the hours before a mission. There had to be; heightened risks require heightened awareness. But Billy had never felt awareness or unease quite like this. I’m almost out and this is what I gotta deal with? I’m almost… He looked sidelong over at Frank, wondering how he’d take it when he told him that he’d requested a transfer, wondering what the odds were of him doing the same. Survival 101: When you don’t like the way something smells, get out. That’s what he was doing. Getting out, so he could get to you.

He grabbed a book from the overturned milk crate that served as a bedside table, flipping it open to page 97. The binding was weakened and worn at that point, the pages falling open loosely to reveal a picture that he’d tucked there for safe keeping. Fingers finding the edges of the glossy photo, he pulled it from its hiding place and let the book fall to his side. You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy from the chill that was in the air that day, your bright blue scarf wrapped around your neck. It was right before you’d made him promise that he’d come back to you, a promise that seemed hasty now that he was counting down the minutes before he’d be leading his men into an ambush that he might now come out of. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head. I can’t, I promised. He laid back, bringing his hands to his stomach, thumb lazily gliding over the surface of the photo. I can’t lose her.

Billy leaned hard against the brick wall of the warehouse, a gasp leaving his lungs as the memory ended. That picture, it was… He reached a shaking hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out the photo that had been in Kristas’s file. It was the same one he’d had with him on deployment, the same one he’d stared at that night, waiting to see if he’d live or die. That’s why I knew which picture it would be… I… I had it then. He ran his thumb over the high gloss print. Your smile, and the way that you were looking at him made it seem impossible that you were gone. But the emptiness he felt was irrefutable. He dropped his arm to his side, eyes landing on the faint markings left from where you’d sprayed that X on the ground, and for the briefest of moments he saw you standing in that beam of light, just a flicker, like the flame of a candle, and then you were gone again, taking the air in his lungs with you.

He bent forward, hands on his knees with the picture curled in his palm as he gulped big breaths of air. Pull it together, you promised. His nostrils flared as he steadied his breathing, returning to his full height. He looked down at the picture again, bringing his free hand up to run over the top of his head. I’m almost done. Shoving it deep inside his pocket, he turned back to look out the window, just in time to see a small dark figure moving in the distance. Almost done, I'm comin'.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @obscurilicious @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @breanime @nananananananananananabatman @lexxierave @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

#jigsaw #jigsaw // black #black part one #billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #frank castle #the punisher fanfiction #its the final countdown

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elusive---ivory · 5 years ago

Text

The Woman In Velvet pt 15

Welp, this is it guys. Thank you for reading TWIV. This has been an opportunity to study my writing and get better along the way. I am working on writing more fanfictions in the future (cough cough a Theodore Twombly fanfiction cough cough)

Don't worry. There will be a sequel.

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Taglist:

@moonstruck-witchy @princessgeekface @radio-hoo-ha @gloomyladyy @memory-mortis @lolacolaempath @jaylovesbats @mijachula

Sandy sat in the back of an old Ford Bentley. Her makeup smeared and smudged.

Destiny glared at Sandy through the rear view window.

"I hope your fucking proud of yourself. Your boyfriend just shot someone on national television." Des scolded.

Dee looked over at Sandy, sympathetically. "I'm sorry this happened, Sandy."

"Don't fucking apologize to her. She let this happen. She knew her boyfriend was a sociopath, and wanted to see where this would go. Well, look what fucking happened, Sandy. Take a good long look." Des yelled.

Sandy laughed. Her laughter wasn't usual. It seemed chaotic and demented. Her eyes were glued to the burning city outside.

People were yelling out in the streets, throwing flares, burning cars, and breaking into stores.

"If only, Uncle Charlie was here. He'd have a blast." Sandy smiled, against the glass.

Des pulled the car over. "That's it. Get out of the fucking car."

Sandy and Des both got out of the car while Dee watched through the window.

Des punched Sandy hard in her gut, then pulled her hair, throwing her on the ground. Sandy laughed, coughing up some blood.

"Laugh some more, bitch. I dare you." Des kicked hard with her heels.

Sandy laughed more, slowly getting up on her feet. "You really don't get it."

"What did you fucking say?" Des got closer to Sandy.

Sandy laughed, again. "I said that you don't get it. This is freedom, Des. You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Des yelled.

Sandy pulled Des close. Des tried pushing back, but Sandy held on tighter.

Sandy smiled, pointing Arthur's gun towards Des's stomach.

"Get off me, Sandy." Des pushed back, feeling the gun against her.

Sandy leaned into Des's ear. "I don't expect you to understand. But, just remember one thing. You get what you fucking deserve."

Sandy pulled the trigger, shooting Des in her abdomen.

Des fell to the ground, bleeding.

"Aah, you fucking bitch." Des cried and sobbed in pain.

Sandy tilted her head. Her face was emotionless. As Des was yelling on the ground, Sandy stomped her head. Harder and harder, until Des's face was completely caved in.

Dee cowarded in the car, crying

Sandy opened the car door. "Please don't tell anyone, ok? If the police ask, just say it was the rioters."

Dee nodded her head in fear.

Sandy smiled, kissing Dee on top of her head.

Sandy's heels skipped across the pavement as she walked away from the car.

Arthur sat in the back of a police car. He looked over and the rioters cheering Arthur on, as the police car drove by.

Arthur broke into a big smile, laughing at the chaos around.

"Stop laughing, you freak. This isn't funny. The whole fucking city's on fire because of what you did." The police officer in the front glared at him through the rear view window.

Arthur laughed, again. "I know. Isn't it beautiful?"

A stolen ambulance ran into the police car, causing a major collision.

Sandy witnessed the collision from the distance. She ran towards the scene, pushing any rioter in her way.

Arthur's fragile body laid on inside the police car.

Sandy walked up to the police car. She picked up Arthur's body, with the help of a masked rioter, placing his body on top of the car.

Arthur coughed up blood, hearing the cheers from the rioters, begging him to get up. Arthur looked up seeing Sandy. Arthur smiled, slowly getting up onto his feet. He hovered over everyone in the crowd. To Sandy, he looked like a god.

Sandy smiled, witnessing it all. Arthur held his hand out to Sandy, helping her up onto the car.

Arthur held Sandy close, slow dancing to the sound of cheers and anarchy. Sandy laid her head on Arthur's chest, listening intently to his rapid heartbeat.

Arthur smeared blood around his mouth to paint a smile on his face.

The crowd's cheering grew louder.

Sandy cupped Arthur's face, kissing him passionately, tasting the blood on his mouth. She handed the gun, empty.

Arthur took the gun, looking at it on last time, before throwing it into the crowd.

Arthur and Sandy looked back into the crowd.

Everyone in the crowd cheered them on, announcing their newfound title of The King and Queen of Gotham.

The clock ticked on the wall.

A man laughed, hysterically, sitting across a female doctor in a white bricked room.

"What's so funny?" His doctor asked, impatiently.

"I was just thinking of a joke." The man said, laughing.

She wrote something down. "Maybe you would like to tell it to me, Arthur?"

The man stopped laughing. "You wouldn't get it."

The waiting room was bleak and empty.

A young woman was reading what looked like a very trashy magazine. She wore a red velvet blouse with a small hat. Her eyes skimmed through each page, barely reading it.

"Mrs. Fleck? Arthur Fleck is available for visitation." The lady at the front desk called.

The women's head perked up from the magazine, and gently placed it back on the coffee table. She smiled at the lady.

Her heels clicked through the white hallway as she hummed the tune to 'That's Life' by Frank Sinatra.

The man hummed the same tune to himself whilst laughing. His eyes lit up as he saw the woman take a seat in front of him. She moved the seat so she was closer to him.

Two security guards in the room stared intensely at him.

"Hey, Artie." The woman said, kissing his stubbly cheek.

The man smiled and leaned in close to her ear, nibbling on it slightly. "Sandy." He whispered.

The woman giggled.

The man whispered things only she would understand. The woman laughed at every little joke he whispered to her.

"Alright, you freak. Visitation is over." One of the security guards said.

The woman sighed, giving the man one more kiss, before walking out of the room.

The man had a big grin on his face as she walked out.

The two security guards accompanied her out the door.

"Man, I just don't get. What the hell do you see in that sociopath?" One of the security guards grumbled.

The woman giggled. "He makes me laugh."

She smiled, hearing the alarms ringing throughout the asylum. Doctors were panicking and running around the hospital.

The woman twirled out the asylum. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she danced. She had never felt more free.

"Sandy Fleck!!" The security guards screamed

She smirked, getting in her car. She lit a cigarette, staring at the now dead security guards. She turned on the radio, and drove off.

The End

#joker movie #joker film #joker x reader #joker 2019 #joker arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck x oc #arthur fleck x reader #joker x oc

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elizabeth-234 · 5 years ago

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The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Nine: Progress

Summary: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.

Chapter Ten: Fast-forward

Beginning of February

“I think we might be able to start the full-scale model soon.”

Peter looked up from his phone, which he was reading his notes he doodled in class off of. Mr. Stark offered multiple times to get him a new phone but he preferred the simplicity of this. When he told Mr. Stark it was easier to use the man acted all offended under his smile. Teasing Peter about his inability to figure out a simple phone when they were working on building a full-scale code and model of tech for cars. It was also easier to understand his thoughts written down. While they didn’t look particularly neat on the page it made more sense to him. Mr. Stark seemed to understand that.

He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging wide open.

“Really?” He said, dropping his eyes back down ignoring the sinking feel in his chest.

Mr. Stark chuckled and went back to scanning the algorithms.

“We can get a full team in here to work on it. Whatever we need.”

A whole team? Someone to take over what they were doing? Peter flinched.

Their work had come so far. From car models went from mere imaginations, to metal models, and back to hologram full scale models. Their protocol were written in C++ after debating between the Python coding.

Peter found the time… soothing to his mind. Sometimes coming in late at night to work by himself even if Mr. Stark wasn’t there. Friday always let him in with a kind word.

He remembered the first couple of times they worked together Mr. Stark would get into a kind of trance, rock music blaring in the background. While Peter liked the music – he made his own playlist to all the songs they listened to – his head rang after an hour or so.

His expression must have revealed more than he wanted to because without comment the next time Peter arrived the music was quieter.

It was little things like that and the temperature which had Peter settling into their work focusing more on Mr. Stark and less on Tony Stark.

With summer coming up in less months than he thought Peter was sure their time would be cut short.

What he wanted to do was ask the man himself. To beg him to continue working through the summer and next year and the next even if it meant bringing in fifty other people to work on it. He wanted to finish their project, to see their models turn into something real. Something that could help people. The selfish part of his brain suggested that what he really wanted was to continue working with Mr. Stark even if it didn’t end up helping anyone.

Instead what Peter did was stay silent and hum slightly to the music nothing about his appearance gave his thoughts away besides the fists he made every so often looking at Mr. Stark working.

Would he even want to continue working with Peter?

End of February

Julia sat next time him while the subway rumbled forward. He kept his legs folded in front of him, fingers grasping backpack which rested on his knees in order to take up less space.

They already passed his stop but he stayed on like he always did riding with Julia.

“Do you really think the permission will go through?” She asked quietly. Julia had fidgeted today in the lab. Her eyes scanned the paperwork over and over making sure they filled out every form correctly. Their whole team practically had their proposal memorized with the amount of times they’d reworked it.

“I’m sure they will.” He said but continued when her expression didn’t change. “It was really good, Julia. You did a great job.”

Peter stared at the glass window on the other side of the subway. Their reflections looked back and he saw her head duck down.

The subway came to a stop and she stood to leave. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at him.

“Thanks for riding the rest of the way with me. Text me when you get home?” Her tone was quiet and it was Peter’s turn to drop his head. “You’re a great friend, Peter.”

He mumbled something and she smiled over her shoulder walking onto the platform. The doors closed behind her but he didn’t lift his head.

Peter switched trains but couldn’t stop the smile from coming over his face.

She thought they were friends.

Beginning of March

“Kid… Peter?”

He blinked. Mr. Stark’s hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under the sudden intrusion but Mr. Stark’s eyes never left his face. Slowly, he squeezed, calming Peter’s pulse, and stepped back.

Mr. Stark ran his hand through his hair.

“Time for food.” He said and waited for Peter to put all his notes away.

“I can just go home, Mr. Stark. It’s no problem.”

The man chuckled and Peter flushed knowing he said that every time.

“I already ordered your favorite from that Korean place down the street.”

Peter stopped walking before hurrying to catch up. They settled around the table piled with way more boxes of food they could ever finish. Sure enough a container of Bibimbap with all tofu, no eggs, and spicy sauce was waiting for him.

Mr. Stark began telling him some gossip he’d heard around the office.

“And how do you know about poor Mr. Singer?” He said, scrapping the crispy rice off of the bottom of the takeout box.

The man didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when he spoke. “Oh, I just happened to be walking by when his wife came storming in.”

Peter snorted. “Friday told you. Didn’t you, Friday?” He asked over Mr. Stark’s copious denials.

“That is correct, Peter.” He smiled upward at Friday and failed to notice the soft look Mr. Stark was giving him.

“You caught me, kid.”

End of March

It would have been easier to accept if the letters were stamped permanently in red across the whole paper. It would have made since in a way – been final. Instead they received a formal reply. One with fancy wording and apologies that had the vague pretense of sounding sincere and apologetic.

This made the news so much worse.

Their proposal had been rejected or as the letter said: “at this time we are not allowing student groups access to our facilities.”

Julia’s face crumpled while Frank swore. Monica began typing frantically but through it all Peter just sat there.

What would they do now?

Beginning of April

“You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There’s still a lot of good in the world."

They were watching The Outsiders while he waited. Peter had read it the year before in English but had missed the movie day because he had been sick.

The rain pelted down against the glass windows. Thunder and lightning battled in the sky only an arm’s length away from where they sat. He’d watched many storms pass through from his fire escape but here, this high up, Peter felt like he was inside it. Every clap of noise sent a pulse into his bloodstream pumping the blood through his veins. It didn’t key him up like it did in the apartment. The sounds were loud enough to sooth his racing thoughts enough so he could focus on the movie playing in the background and the soft sounds of response Mr. Stark was making to the movie. He felt safe there in the storm.

Of course, Peter had put up a mild protest. He’d been fine to go home, he told Mr. Stark. But the man took one look outside and suggested the movie. Food was involved, too.

It took Peter exactly thirty-two seconds to decide he could wait for the rain to pass.

An hour later, laden with stir-fry and popcorn Peter was boneless on the couch. He smiled as Mr. Stark leaned forward, his eyes focused on the screen. It was the man’s first time watching it as well and though Peter knew the ending, it didn’t stop his enjoyment.

He yawned and sank deeper into the cushions.

The day had seemed unending and filled with busywork assignments. Things that weren’t teaching him anything but would take all night to do. Ned was gone so he spent all lunch listening to Mike debate the pros of anarchy with everyone at the table. He stared at MJ until she caught him and he ran away to the library. It wasn’t until he got to the lab that he had a moment to breath.

Something touched his shoulder and then with more force he was pulled away from the couch.

The sound of the credits rolled. He didn’t realize his eyes had shut.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark’s voice whispering something and a feminine answer but his eyes stayed closed, blessedly on the brink of sleep.

His head was against a hard surface, a chest, and Peter was lulled deeper by the heartbeat within. A hand brushed back his hair after he was placed on something soft and he could swear the voice said something important but Peter was too asleep to make sense of it.

Ned leaned across the lunch table. His hands bordered their lunchboxes in a protective frame as Peter relayed the news from his meeting the previous week.

“I just feel so bad for those Frank and Monica. I mean they’re graduating and everything. This was their final hurrah.” He said, nibbling on a carrot.

“Dude, that sucks. What are you going to do?”

Peter nodded at the question. As it was they weren’t sure.

The prototype of the machine was necessary for them to see before they could come up with a model for themselves. He had thought about going to Mr. Stark and asking him for advice, but he decided not to in the end. It was an unfair advantage that the other teams couldn’t use. If no one else could go to the owner of Stark Industries for help, why should he?

Peter was also proud of the work they accomplished so far. Sometimes he forgot how young they all were, given the amount and quality of work they completed.

The whole experience had changed him more than that though and he was loathe to sit there and do nothing.

“I don’t know, Ned. We’ll figure something out though.”

He could only hope.

“Look, Peter. Mr. Stark will understand if you can’t make it today.” May spoke with an edge to her voice. “I forbid you from going.”

“May, I have to go. This is important.”

“Peter, you’re sick. It’s okay.”

He coughed into his elbow, sniffling and meagerly taking a tissue May was holding out to him with pouting lips.

Peter whispered something to her. Something he was too afraid to think but needed to say.

“What sweetheart?” She said and even though he was sick and had a fever May sat on the edge of his bed.

“It’s just,” he licked his chapped lips. “What if he finds someone else to help out?”

He thought of the team Mr. Stark mentioned before. Peter looked away from the piercing glance. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket wrapped around him.

“Peter, he would never do that. You know he wouldn’t.”

She said it with such conviction but his stomach sank. Did he know that?

May kept talking, running a reassuring thumb over his knuckles but Peter was too wrapped up in his thoughts. He went through cataloging every interaction and every word spoken between them.

Peter thought of the way Mr. Stark smiled when he came into the lab and how he would always check the temperature to make sure it was warm enough. The man practically bought the whole menu at a restaurant when Peter stayed for food and it was getting more common for him to stay after a work day. Sometimes they would watch a movie but most times he would just work on homework as Mr. Stark continued with business. But were those concrete signs? It certainly didn’t mean he would abstain from finding a replacement if the work needed to be done. Peter sighed into his hoodie, wincing at the way his stomach was cramping.

It was with the image of Frank helping Mr. Stark in the lab that Peter made his decision.

He realized May had left when she popped her head back into the room.

“Stay home, Peter. Okay? I’m sorry I have to go to work.”

His cough wracked his chest but he managed to tell her he loved her. She gave him one last searching look before she left for work.

After he heard the door shut with limbs groaning Peter got out of bed. He toggled back and forth as the blood ran to his head but with careful steps made it out of his room. His hand swept across the length of the highest cabinet and found the last packet of powdered vitamin C before mixing it in his water bottle.

There was sweat seeping into his sweatshirt and on his forehead by the time he made it to the subway platform and he shivered into it. His breath shuddered when he finally sank down into one of the empty seats, making sure to touch as little as possible. He kept his hoodie up and took small sips of the vitamin infused water, praying for an instant cure.

Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator but he didn’t lift his head up to the lights like he normally would. They burned his eyes.

“Hey, Friday.” He said rubbing his hand along his chest to stop a cough. Even to his own ears his voice sounded tired.

“Are you alright, Peter?” Friday said, softer than normal.

“I’m fine, just a cough.”

Friday said nothing but the elevators opened.

The room was void of people and Peter sat down with a heavy breath. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him. Thankfully Friday must have forgotten to put the lights on so it was dark in the room.

Every minute he sat there, Peter shrunk down until his head came to rest on his arms. Wet coughs racked his chest and he shivered again. It was cold in the room but he didn’t want to bother Friday. The curt tone he used earlier with Friday sent a guilty tendril tightening along his spine.

The doors swept open and bursting into the room with wide eyes was Mr. Stark. Peter tried to smile but from the furrow in the man’s mouth, it wasn’t as reassuring as he meant it to be.

“Kid, what’s wrong? You okay?”

Peter sat up trying to relax the ache in his muscles. He flinched back when rough hands touched his cheek before moving to rest against his forehead.

He felt silly to realize Mr. Stark had moved across the room and was now kneeling beside him. Peter concentrated on the small lines forming lightly in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he imaged being younger and being sick at home, but instead of Ben kneeling in front of him it was Mr. Stark making sure he was okay.

With a shake of Peter’s head Mr. Stark removed his hands and walked away. His voice rung out as he barked orders to Friday and then he was on the phone.

Peter gripped the edges of the counter, tears blurring in his eyes. How could he even think that? The betrayal of his thoughts sent a tear over the edge and down his hot cheek. Worse than that though was the longing he’d felt – still felt - when Mr. Stark looked at him with such concern.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t his to want.

Mr. Stark came back and led Peter into the elevator. His tone was quiet, soothing, and Peter weakly followed him after brushing his tear away. Friday chimed in to give reports on his temperature. His brain felt fuzzy.

There was an arm, guiding him, warm across his back.

“Come on, Kid.”  

They arrived into a bedroom and dimly Peter realized this is where he fell asleep the previous month. He stopped short at the door.

“Peter?” The man spoke softly and the back of Peter’s throat itched.

“But… we have the meeting. We were going to work on …” His brain failed him at the end.

“Hey, kid. You’re in no position to be working. Hell, you’re burning up.”

He sent Peter to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Peter sat at the very end of the mattress, his butt halfway off the edge. It wasn’t his bedroom, just one for guests. There was nothing in there that was his, but Peter noticed that the lamp was where he moved it before when he tried to get some reading in the morning when was there.

He moved closer to the headboard, eyes on the light in the bathroom, and switched it on.

Peter could still convince Mr. Stark they could work today. It would be fine. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have replaced him then as long as he remained useful.

“The work will still be there later.” Mr. Stark said emerging from the bathroom as if he read Peter’s thoughts. “Drink this while you take this.” He gestured to the water and Tylenol in his hand.

Peter’s protest died on his tongue and Mr. Stark spoke again.

“I’m not in any hurry to finish the project. As long as you get better.”

He blanched at the implication of the words.

There was no anger in the man’s face. Something uncurled in his chest when all he saw was concern. Ben used to wear that face well.

Peter’s eyes dragged on his cheek. Another cough stormed through his chest.

“I’ll go fill this up again. There’s sweatpants and t-shirts in the dresser.”

Peter stood up, feeling red on his cheeks. There were clothes there?

He browsed the drawers looking at the various t-shirts - all avengers themed. Quickly he got into sweatpants and sweatshirt glancing at the door back and forth.

With a speed he used when changing after gym class he shucked his shirt and pants off and into his chosen clothes, grey sweats and Stark Industries shirt. His hand brushed over the ironman one but he couldn’t quite make himself put it in.

He settled on the bed again just before there was a knock on the door. Dizziness wavered through him and Peter grasped the bedside table for support.

Mr. Stark came in carrying the glass. The covers were pushed back and Peter found himself lying down. The man hovered for a moment, his hand came up from his side reaching out before dropping back.

“Get some rest, Kid. Friday will be here if you need anything and I will just be in the living room outside.”

Peter’s eyes closed of their own accord and he nodded. Footsteps swept across the room but before the door could close Peter thanked Mr. Stark, wishing he had the right to say more.

“Of course, Peter.” Peter’s throat went tight. The door shut and Peter spun around. He didn’t want to look at the lights shining through the cracks in the door.

Of course, he said like he would look after Peter. As he would have if Peter’s mind conjured up sound for his imagination. Like he cared.

The knot loosened in his throat and Peter locked the guilt away for a moment, instead basking in the knowing someone was waiting up in case he needed them right outside this room that wasn’t technically his.

He reached up, adjusting the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

Middle of April

Peter’s stomach protested as the smell of leftovers wafted from the lid he opened. The nausea from being sick still lingered and Peter found his appetite was suffering because of it.

The cafeteria, loud as ever, raged around him. He pushed the container of food away with a grimace.

Something nudged him from the side and he saw Ned’s profile looking straight ahead. He shrugged and went back to staring at his lunch. Ned’s elbow dug into his upper arm and Peter looked over while rubbing the spot of impact. Narrowly dodging another nudge, he got the hint and followed the boy’s gaze.

Peter blinked at the figure coming forward.

Flash waded through the crowds and tables. His gaze was fixed forward and now that they weren’t precisely enemies Peter let himself feel intrigued by how people just seemed to get out of Flash’s way.

He wondered why Ned was so interested in Flash until the boy in questions eyes moved and landed on Peter.

He was making his way in their direction.

Peter knew from the previous eight months how rare this was and his stomach cramped in response. His eyes flounced back to the Tupperware.

“I wonder where he’s off to,” Ned said.

Peter watched Ned in his observations not wanting to be caught blatantly staring at Flash himself. Despite the itching feeling crawling through his limbs Peter smiled at his friend and the way he moved forward so Flash’s view of Peter would be limited.

Under his lashes he looked up to see Flash continued the straight path to them. Peter held his breath and watched his legs, which seemed much safer than his face.

Flash continued forward until he was a table away. Peter finally looked up at a sound from Ned and met his eyes. The boy stared straight at him and Peter forced himself to maintain contact. Flash glanced toward the doors and back at Peter, his brow quirked when Peter’s face remained in ignorance. He did it again before veering off toward the exit.

The doors closed behind him blocking Peter’s curious gaze, food dilemma forgotten.

Should he follow?

Ned began talking about how weird Flash had been lately and Peter nodded along. His hands twisted in his lap, bouncing in time to the rise and fall of his foot against the ground.

Without breaking eye contact with the door, he stood up, murmuring something to Ned whose eyes flickered to the door. Ned nodded without missing a beat.

As Peter was passing toward the door he briefly reached out to touch Ned on the shoulder before hurrying away. Ned was such a good person…. A good friend.

Backpack slung over his shoulder Peter followed the path his eyes traced before and saw Flash leaning against the lockers down the hallway from the cafeteria.

“Flash. Hey.” He said trying to keep the weary tone out of his voice. They’d seen each other off and on at their time at the Tower but hadn’t seen much of each other at school. In fact, the last time they talked was when Peter had a meltdown in front of him, which was slightly awkward to realize how Peter yelled at him before. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

The boy’s arms were crossed in front of him. Peter could see his shoulder’s tensing and he held his body still. Peter forced his hands to stop fidgeting by shoving them in his pockets. A blush worked its way onto his cheeks when neither of them spoke. Was he wrong? Was he supposed to follow Flash?

“So, I hear you need a connection at Oscorp?” Flash said uncrossing his arms and casually raising his eyebrow at Peter.

His jaw dropped. This was not what he expected.

“Uh… How did you hear that?” He said trying to find a semblance of rational thought.

Flash had the decency to look embarrassed but he answered anyway, if a little cautiously. “That Mike kid is loud as shit. Anyway, do you?”

“Why?”

Flash sighed and crossed his arms again.

“Listen, I’m trying to be... decent. My dad has connections there and I could see if something could come of it.”

“Why?”

Was that all he could say?

“Is that all you can say?” Flash snapped.

Peter shut his mouth and thought about the options. He could lie. Say that they didn’t need this. Then he wouldn’t need to repay Flash for anything. But the image of Julia’s clenched hands and the hours they spent working came to mind. And he decided he didn’t care if he was put in Flash’s debt or that he didn’t know the motivations behind this act of supposed kindness.

Plus, Flash proved changed – sort of – mostly. If he wanted help, well, Peter wasn’t going to say no.

“Yeah, Flash. We do need help, if you’re willing to offer it.”

They nodded at one another before walking down the hallway too close to be considered friends but too far away for anyone to perceive them as enemies.

“Sorry, Monica couldn’t make it today but she said as long as we take notes it should be fine.”

Flash stood shuffling on the balls of his feet in the doorway. Julia and Frank were clearing off a spot for him to sit at the table while Peter motioned him forward.

Frank clapped Flash on the back in greeting and welcomed him.

“Thanks man. This is going to be a great help.”

When Flash sat down, moving his backpack to rest against the leg of the table, everyone stared at him. It was the first time after their sandwich fiasco that Peter had seen him look so embarrassed and out of place. He withheld a smile.

Flash got straight down to business, explain the security and how his father got them a tour and question time with the person in charge of the prototype. Julia’s hand flew over the paper trying to write every word he spoke. Without breaking his speech Flash slight a typed-out sheet of all the information. Her hand shook slightly and thought she thanked him, Peter noticed she didn’t look him in the eye.

The meeting passed quick and Peter was pleased with how much Flash got along with everyone. He and Frank spent a bunch of time talking about sports and the playoffs. After some cajoling he even got Julia to talk about their new kittens at home. In turn, Flash smiled as she told him how BOGO would steal all of Free’s food.

Flash smiled at the story. A real, teeth-baring smile.

Peter was used to things happening slowly in his life.

It took him almost half a school year to decide to participate in the S.T.A.R.K competition. Days avoiding the sign in sheet until finally he took the plunge. Months after dreading nearly everything he settled into a routine. He was opening up to the people around him.

He thought back to how scary it was considering Ned’s offer to sit with him at lunch. It was weeks until he was able to go more than once a week. He even went over to Ned’s house over break.

But all these things took time and much thinking on Peter’s part. He weighed the consequences of everything before stepping forward and rarely out of his comfort zone. That was safe. That was good.

Things happening quickly were never good in Peter’s opinion. Ben’s funeral came and went so fast. The whole thing sped up like someone was pressing fast-forward. Though he was careful and took his time letting Sam into his life; it took but a second for her to break his heart.

That’s why when Flash sat at their lunch table at the end of the week, Peter’s stomach turned sour. He knew to expect the worse. He foresaw the worst. But there was nothing he could do or say in the moment.

Ned, after a moment of scrutiny, looked between Flash and Peter, then stuck out his hand for the two of them to shake, forever reminding Peter how forgiving Ned was.

How many second chances had Ned given him?

Just like that Flash began to eat lunch with them sometimes. Not every day, but throughout the week he would stop by and join an argument between Mike and Midge before wandering off again. Somedays he would even find Peter in the library when the cafeteria was too much for him to get through.

Flash was quieter than Ned. He would hold himself still, aware of his space at any given time and there was still tension between them sometimes. But it was nice all the same.

Peter didn’t find it so strange that Flash and him became friends so quick this time.

End of April

Peter looked around the lab. Scattered on the tables were scraps of paper, all smudged with crunched writing, and metal shavings discarded from the models they had built. His backpack was folded over itself on the floor by the door on top of which his jacket was crumpled.

Mr. Stark stood beside him and if Peter turned his shoulders slightly to the left he could see the slight furrow in his brow. How his hand would come up and rest under his chin while his finger traced his goatee every five minutes or so.

It was his thinking face, Peter knew.

Months of working together and Peter’s steady heartbeat was proof he was relaxed. Content.

He didn’t think about the fact this would all be ending come summer. And he absolutely ignored the itch in the back of his throat thinking about the possibility of never seeing Mr. Stark again.

“I’m still thinking we are going to totally have to overhaul the thrust mechanisms on this side, Mr. Stark. It’s working now, but barely, and it could be so much better.” He said breaking the silence.

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rose in response but he didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed trained on the new schematics displayed in front of him. He grumbled something under his breath and Peter cracked a smile knowing he was right.

The lab settled under the silence again. Peter moved around to Mr. Stark’s other side and grabbed a Stark pad off the table. Easily Mr. Stark stepped to the side to accommodate his reach and giving Peter enough room to work at the table.

Peter yawned as he opened the door to the apartment. He grabbed a box of Chex mix and sank into the couch. His phone vibrated again and shoving his hand into the box checked his messages. The group chat between everyone went off with a near consistency putting his flip phone into overdrive.

There had been time of the subway to look at it but he ended up falling asleep, waking only to find drool gathering on his sleeve where his head rested and to hear he missed one his stop.

Even though he was barely awake now, Peter considered the walk home beneficial. The moon hung in the middle of the sky decorated by a vague face and stars all around.

It let him think, at least.

His third handful came away as the rest, only the little breadsticks and the occasional rye chip. May must have eaten her way through the bag first. He set it aside feeling a cramping in his stomach. Maybe he was still sick.

He yawned again and sank further into the couch knowing he should go to bed, but his bones felt too brittle to get up.

Everything was coming to a head soon. Midterms, Mr. Stark and their work, and the tour were compounding at an exponential rate.

It was all amazing. Peter knew he was so lucky and at times thought he dreamed it all.

But it was sometimes too much.

He wasn’t used to having so many people in his life or having to check his phone throughout the day to see who was texting him.

Who would have thought at the beginning of the year Ned and Flash would send each other memes? Or that Julia would come out and lead one of their group meetings?

Peter smiled remembering how Monica’s jaw dropped when Julia, gently, corrected her on some of the analytics. Or how she gave everyone in their group, Flash included, a newer version of the pen that landed her in the internship program.

He felt so full of life, something he’d never thought possible for someone like him.

And right now, it hurt that all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the weekend. He wondered what would happen if he told them. If he just needed some time to disconnect for a bit.

He knew he couldn’t do that though. They would be fine without him, they would move on and continue texting minus his phone number, and Peter wasn’t ready to get rid of them so soon. They deserved someone who was normal, who could sit in the cafeteria for the whole week without feeling bone tired, or someone who could be fully present without worry about sneezing the wrong way.

Peter would get through it and soak everything up. Every laugh, and debate at lunch. Flash’s and his new acquaintanceship. And especially any time Mr. Stark was willing to work together. He could push through it for now.

It would be fine.

He groaned against the couch pillow thinking about everything he had to do and after looking at the calendar on the way he realized something.

It was only a week until they would tour Oscorp.

It's always one step forward and two steps back for our Peter isn't it?

a/n: Hi sweet friends. I hope you are all doing well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. This semester has been crazy, as things get in real life. My classes have been moved online so I can finally start writing again which makes me so happy. I also just wanted to say thank you for continuing to read this story. Every comment and kudos make my week so bright.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Taglist: @verdonafrost @demi-starzak @whatisthou

Next Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Oscorp

#Ironman fanfiction #MCU #pre-powers #spiderman fanfiction #Shy peter parker #the supplejack #my writing #ao3 fic #tony stark #ned leeds #Flash Thompson #marvel fanfiction #Peter parker #writing

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bensonstablers · 6 years ago

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Hii :) I love your opinion about Good girls and Brio also how would you describe them ? and why do you like them?

Hi! ^_^ Firstly, thank you! I’m really happy to hear that and secondly, I’m going to try and put into words why I like Beth and Rio separately but it’ll also help to highlight why I like them together :) It’ll also give a relatively detailed account of how I would describe them too!It’s got a little long so I’m going to put it under the cut so I don’t take over people’s dash!

Funnily enough, Brio and Rio were the reasons I started watching Good Girls in the first place. It was while season 1 was airing (I think) and I saw a post on my dash of someone saying something along the lines of: “I didn’t think I’d ever ship a gangbanger and a middle-aged housewife but here we are” and I was instantly like “oh??????” because that is just my kind of ship. Then I saw some edits of Rio and I fell in love because he reminded me of so many of my favourite characters and he was the final push to get me to check the show out.

I love Rio because he’s that type of character that if you just looked at him in a black and white way he’s the bad guy, he’s dark, maybe a little evil, he’s got an obscure moral compass, and he’s capable of some cruel and unusual things but then you dive deeper. You see that actually yes, he is a criminal and technically the bad guy (or antagonist) and he is capable of doing cruel and unusual things but that’s not all he is.

He does have a softer side and his moral compass isn’t necessarily obscure it’s just centered differently. Season 2 has also confirmed that there are people he is willing to put above himself meaning he isn’t just thinking about himself or doing the things he does just for him. He reminds me a lot of characters like Seth Gecko from From Dusk till Dawn (the show more than the movie), a lot of the guys from Sons of Anarchy, Frank Castle (specially the Marvel Netflix version), and even Lucifer from the Lucifer tv series (and there’s probably a ton of others I’m forgetting) in the sense that on the surface they all seem like the stereotypical “bad guys” but they’re so much more three dimensional than that and it’s harder to look at them in such a black and white way because they’re actually more in a grey area.I always headcannoned a softer and more vulnerable side to Rio as far back as 1x02 because he just seemed like the perfect character for it but also because there was no need for him to sit and talk to Kenny and help him with his homework. Rio wasn’t there to threaten Beth, he was there to make a deal with her, so he just sat there and helped Kenny because he wanted to. I think Rio, like the other characters I’ve mentioned in this post, are interesting because there’s this weird fantasy element of “ohhh so they’re a criminal or maybe just a little dark, huh?” but they’re not bad for the sake of being bad and they’re not reduced to just being horrible people. Sometimes the softer and lighter elements of Rio can seem jarring or even a little contradictory at first but then it settles and it just makes sense because it makes him more complex. He can be confident and dark and brutal and unforgiving when he has to be but that’s not all he is.

As for Beth, I like her for the same but technically opposite reasons. By the people in canon (mostly Dean, let’s be honest) she is seen as some meek housewife. Sure she has some fight in her but prior to robbing Fine and Frugal, it’s mostly aimed around her kids and getting things done for them and Dean. And he almost looks at it in a condescending way, like “oh, look at you killing it at these PTA meetings, good for you”, its almost as if he’s patting her head like a dog and just humouring her. She is completely and utterly underestimated to the point that Dean just assumes she was tricked into working for Rio (1x06) and that he has to save her.

If you were to look at Beth in black and white (which Dean does) she comes across as the opposite to Rio: the good guy, full of light, law-abiding citizen, and unable to do anything even remotely criminal or dark or evil but then you dive deeper. You realise that actually, Beth is the stereotypical good citizen but she is also capable of being dark to the point that she’s not only good at crime but she enjoys it. Her moral compass might not be as off center but it still is. I mean, she was genuinely considering the idea of Eddie being killed in 1x09 if it meant that she, Annie, and Ruby didn’t go to jail. I think if given enough time to wrap her head around it, Beth is also capable of cruel and unusual things. It’s just that that darker and more unforgiving side is the more surprising one. It doesn’t come out as often and it’s technically the less defined side (just like Rio’s softer side). She may seem like the stereotypical “good egg” on the surface but again, if you don’t look at her in a black and white way, she too fits into that grey area.

She actually reminds me a lot of the counterparts to the characters I menionted before. Kate Fuller from From Dusk till Dawn, Karen Page from Marvel Netflix, and Chloe Decker from Lucifer. (If you want to pick from SOA I would say Tara maybe?). And she reminds me of them because all of them are almost drawn into a darker life by outside forces and for Beth, it was the mess Dean got their family into. Brio, like all of those pairings, are seen as complete opposites on the surface. They couldn’t possibly match up but when you actually look a little closer you realise they’re more similar than you might think.

#nbc good girls #danielle answers #danielle talks about good girls #anon #danielle talks fandom

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emzymakesbelieve · 5 years ago

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not to be fake deep but let's talk about all your old walt babies that you haven't mentioned (because i love the hainline's okay and you and all your kids and i miss you

Send me an old muse and I’ll gush about them.

oKAY SIT DOWN AND BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

(I love you, too, sweet pea. *smooch*)

Frank Hainline

So Frank is a prick, to start off, but he’s my prick and you’re not allowed to trash talk him without my say so (which of course you have because he’s A PRICK). He was the kind of kid who wore an anarchy symbol on his jacket but never actually did anything to represent or invoke anarchy. He’s also a gigantic slut and can’t keep his pants zipped for longer than ten minutes. Fidelity is not this man’s middle name (*CoUgH* illegitimate child he never knew about). He definitely wasn’t ready to become a father when Victoria got pregnant (and more or less trapped him into marriage), but by the time baby Penelope came, he devoted every ounce of energy he could to making sure she had a good life, and the two of them actually grew very close. He passed away from cancer when Penelope was about ten.

Norma Hainline

Penelope’s eldest. The two most important things you need to know about Norma are that she’s a dancer and she’s gay as a maypole. Her main focuses are tap and ballet. She loves old Hollywood - she got her start watching Singin’ in the Rain and Fred & Ginger films - but definitely prefers to live in the here and now where she can express herself both as an artist and as a lesbian. The dance world, much as she loves it, is a crusty old institution that needs to break some pointless rules and get over itself. She is also Grade A Mom Friend Extraordinaire™. Her love language is definitely acts of service, particularly making sure you’re eating and sleeping well and taking your medicine on time (though turns out she’s a terrible patient herself). Much to her frustration, her two closet friends - Noah and Nick - are both more or less bent on self destruction and driving her completely bonkers, but she loves them just the same.

Francis Hainline

Francis, the third eldest, has no business being in this family with how shy he is, but nevertheless. Definitely the black sheep of the family, but his siblings defend and support him with everything they have. (Well, Kath usually does it with a lot of sarcasm, but you can tell she loves him.) He’s a total hipster and has a special love for anything that was built before the year 2000. His prize possession is an old camcorder that uses real VHS tapes, so naturally he becomes a film student. I envision him growing up and working as a cinematographer and eventual director of poignant indie films and documentaries - stuff with lots of lingering, fly-on-the-wall shots. Also, special shoutout to Seraphina, the love of his got dang life. Those two gave me so many freaking cavities with their cuteness.

Kathleen Hainline

So Kath is a mess, but that’s just par for the course in this family, I suppose. She’s the baby of the family and has always felt like she’s living in her sister Norma’s shadow. She’s a bit of a wild child, but certainly not to the extent Victoria was. It’s all just a cry for attention, trust me. She wants to feel needed, she wants to feel wanted, she wants to feel special. And anything that takes the attention of the people she loves off of her needs to die, plain and simple. She’s best friends with Daisy and is technically endgame with Jonas (though we really didn’t get to write them that far), so here goes a prayer candle for my lovely Becca.

Dory Novak

As you can probably guess by the name, Dory is based on that delightful blue tang we know and love. In the Walt universe, she developed her short term memory loss after an accident that killed her parents, and was adopted by Marlin. She loves swimming and her family and especially anything combining the two. She’s a freaking sweetheart who is actually pretty hard on herself, and it was so heartbreaking to play her in any kind of stressful situation because five minutes later she would still be freaked out by have no idea as to why (looking at you, Scream event). Also, Scooby liked her a lot and I felt so freaking blessed??? She ends up becoming a social worker and helping kids in the foster system like her.

Charlie Harper & Jenny Harper née Parkington

I never got to properly play Dory’s parents, but here’s the fast and skinny on them. Jenny was a shy bookworm who never thought boys would be interested in her and (for the most part) had made peace with that theory. Charlie was a jock who was head over heels for Jenny but never knew how to communicate it without being a sleaze. Eventually, he manages to ask her out, she says yes, and they pretty much become attached at the hip. She comes to his basketball games and swim meets decked out in the school colors and cheering like a maniac. My guess is Dory came a little earlier than they were expecting, but not so early that it would be considered scandalous - probably when they were almost finished with college or something. Dory became their world and they spoiled that little girl beyond belief. Unfortunately, both of them were killed in a car wreck when Dory was very little.

Marlene Novak

Dory’s first kid, adopted. To sum it up nicely, Marlene’s a hot mess because she was never able to come to terms with the fact that her birth mother didn’t want her. I tried to start this whole plot where she ran into her birth mother just out in the wild and that made her get even messier, but I think I was just throwing crap on the fire to see what blew up at that point. She also has a…flirtatious arrangement, shall we say, with her friend Viv.

Lyle Novak

Dory’s second kid, also adopted. *sigh* Lyle, Lyle, Lyle… He’s a cutie, don’t get me wrong, but I feel like I didn’t give his character enough punch? He just seems kind of blah now that I look back at him. I have a history of being super self conscious about my male characters if they don’t have like a Super Archetype personality for some freaking reason, and Lyle is definitely an example of that. He’s a little shy, but not so shy that it’s endearing, and he’s also a little courageous, but not so courageous that he actually gets crap done. He’s a little complacent, looking back on him, which is kind of the opposite of how I wanted to play him...? I dunno. Maybe I’m being too harsh on myself. HE’S CUTE. LIFE GOES ON.

Cinderella Tremaine

To the surprise of absolutely no one, I’ve actually played a Cinderella counterpart in a few different groups, but let’s just talk about how I portrayed her at Walt. French transfer student in America (I changed her to straight up American after a point) who loves animals arguably more than life itself and tries her best not to cry over things she can’t control. She’s also daydreamy as FRICK. Loves to get lost in her own imagination. If she’s not engaged in conversation or work of some kind, I can guarantee you her conscience isn’t even on this plane. Also, can I just shriek about the superhero AU version of her where she was a counterpart to Zatanna and literally became her own fairy godmother? Because I think about that far more than is probably healthy.

Emmett Tremaine & Johanna Tremaine née Cartier

Same thing as Dory’s parents, just gonna give you a quick lowdown. Johanna came from a fairly well off family in France (distantly related to those guys, but far enough away that it doesn’t really count), but her parents thought she was an absolute embarrassment. She was never afraid to speak her mind when it came to things like etiquette and politics, and she had a fabulously wild imagination. She never stopped believing in fairies, ghosts, gremlins, things like that. Emmett was that quiet nerd dreamer type, very much obsessed with travel and history. And like I need to spell it out for you, but they were LUDICROUSLY in love with each other. Like, nauseatingly so.

Robby Tremaine

Robby is Cindy’s son I whipped up real quick one next gen when I was going crazy and wanted to snatch Nick Robinson’s beautiful face. He’s a hardcore farm boy who doesn’t mind a little mud behind his ears and super environmentally conscious. Not just recycling and veganism and all that, but he will go off on you about sustainable farming and animal raising, and how the hydrogen fuel cell is the way of the future.

Taige Bailey

Based on Terk from Tarzan, Taige is a super jock, total butch lesbian, and altogether DUMBNUT. Like, GOD she’s so stupid sometimes because she just barrels into crap with reckless abandon and doesn’t think things through. Dear God, she will PUNCH you if you so much as look at her funny, just ‘cause she feels bored. And she walks around like she’s God’s gift to creation, but she’s just a little twerp. But she’s my twerp. (Huh. I’m just now realizing how similar Taige and Pen are. In a weird way, Taige is like the tomboy version of Pen.) Here, you can imagine me lighting a prayer candle because I never got to play her against her two best friends and I’m SAD. Y’ALL NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE THE TOUR DE FORCE THAT IS T CUBED. Also *cough* she and Vitani may have had a *coUGH* flirtationship.

I would also put Taige’s parents on this list, but they’re so hardly even developed that it’s not really worth mentioning them. I only know their names: Lamarr and April.

Jared Bailey

Taige’s only child, Jared’s still trying to figure out what masculinity means to him, what with being raised by two women and all. He can get a little “dudebro alpha male” sometimes, but he’s also that kid you definitely want to have your back when things get rough. He’ll help you with your homework, teach you how to shoot a three-pointer, and walk you home when it’s dark like the gentleman he is.

#spidcypools #YOU SAID 'ALL' BY GOD #read mores are for wimps #have my children #[ q and a ]#[ muse: frank ]#[ muse: norma ]#[ muse: francis ]#[ muse: kathleen ]#[ muse: dory ]#[ muse: marlene ]#[ muse: lyle ]#[ muse: cinderella ]#[ muse: robby ]#[ muse: taige ]#[ muse: jared ]

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dazzlingfantasiesblogs · 6 years ago

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Hurricane Side Story : Christmas Decorations

Happy x Reader

Notes: Warning/Triggers: 18+ only. IF UNDER 18 KINDLY DO NOT FOLLOW ME AND DO NOT READ. Thank you. Smut. 18+.

More notes: Hey loves, I have been writing this off and as I have been listening to christmas music and when I set up my Christmas tree earlier in the week. This is a side story to Hurricane. Attached is the Hurricane Masterlist Note that I need to update that masterlist!

I am still working on a Chibs oneshot as well! :)

Tags: @samanthab983 @trippinjenni @camobighairnboots @mywhitehatisbigger @moodygrip

Also, please do not take credit for my work, or post on other websites. That is stealing. I do not own Sons Of Anarchy, however this is a spin-off and my original work. Do not take what is not yours.

Gifs are not mine.

The smirk across his face couldn’t be any wider. He watched as you twirled around the living room. The Christmas music blasting in the background. He laughed a bit as you hung the decorations around the house. Tinsel around the photo frames and lights strung around the living room. “When are the boys dropping off the tree?” you smiled walking up to him. “Mm.. soon Mami.” Happy grabbed your hips, pressing a kiss to your lips. He couldn’t believe how cheerful he felt for Christmas with you. Before the holiday being a nuisance since he would have to spend money on presents. You made this house a warm home.

Hearing a knock at the door, Happy looked outside and seen his brothers having a hard time carrying the Christmas tree you picked out a day before. Kozik walked in “Come on prospects. Fuck my sisters tree up and I will send you to an early grave.” Kozik smiled to you and kissed your cheek. Mariah Carey “All I want for Christmas” came on and you squealed. You gave Kozik the look. “Alright, Ill dance and sing this with you. Just once.” He smirked waiting for it to play and you started to sing. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, all I want for Christmas is you!!” Kozik twirled you are the living room, holding on to your hand. The prospects snickered, Happy looked at them, causing them to shiver in fear. After the song you where breathless and laughing so hard you fell on the couch with your brother. You pointed to the prospects, telling them to set the tree in front of the large window. Kozy watched as the boys struggled. The dog walking over to sniff the tree. “No peeing on the tree Kozy.” The dog wagged his tail. Walking over to his dish, drinking water. “Thanks boys! Beer in the fridge.” The prospects smiled to you. Walking in the kitchen they each got a beer and sat down. Jax walked in a bit after the prospects finished fighting with the tree and grabbing a beer. “Hey Prince.” You waved to Jax. “Hey Y/N. Brothers.” You stood back up and started to grab the lights to hang on tree. “Babe, I gotta.. gotta go. I will be back later tonight, tomorrow morning.” Your smile faded and nodded. Kissing Happys cheek you went to your brother“You watch each other.” They nodded waving. It was odd how quickly they where leaving. Especially since you where certain you and Happy where going to spend the night decorating and then sleeping next to the tree and making love. With the club you long let go of the hope to have a normal life. Nothing about your life was normal after all.

It was three in the morning and you finished baking cookies, decorating them and set them out for Happy to eat when he got home. You finished some work next to the Christmas tree as Frank Sinatra played in the back round. Being a little sad since Happy left on your big decorating day, you fell asleep on the couch next to your little man. Kozy snuggled close as you fell asleep under the flannel cozy blanket. Happy opened the door quietly, hoping not to wake you. He seen you asleep next to the Christmas tree on the couch. He smiled seeing the whole house looking like a bunch of elves threw up festive cheer. Tip towing to the room, he hid the bag full of presents that he had bought for you on his way home from church at the club. He slid them on his side of the closet, behind clothes he rarely ever wore. He snuck back outside to the backyard where his brothers waited. They quietly worked on a surprise for you that Happy had planned.

Feeling your shoulder being moved you seen Happy standing there. “Hey babe… mmm you ok?” you rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up. You grabbed your phone seeing the time. It was 5am and still pitch dark outside. “Cover your eyes love.” You did as told and felt a blanket drape your shoulders. He guided you to slide on your slippers and walk to the back porch. “Open your eyes.” You did and your jaw dropped. “Holy Santa’s beard!” The back yard was lit bright enough by Christmas lights, you where sure that you could see it from a satellite pic. There was colorfull lights strung around the trees, the patio lit up with small bushes that had lights strung on them. A huge ‘Winter Wonderland’ arch into the back yard. Happy held you hand and walked into the back yard even more. Looking on you seen a huge hottub. “So.. I may have went overboard and bought us a hot tub..” you chuckled seeing the tag was still on it. “You stole it didn’t you?” He shrugged his shoulders. “No, the guy owed us a favor. Said I could pick one out. So I took the biggest one. IT even has rainbow lights in the water.” Happy smirked, thinking dirty thoughts about you two in the hottub together. “Happy! This is amazing!” you jumped into your old mans arms, kissing him deeply. He smiled into the kiss and was glad you where so Happy. “You deserve every bit of it my queen. You had a rough year. With your dad bull shit, Lorenzo being an ass, me being an ass.. the club taking advantage of you… Ima.. I am sorry you had to deal with so much beautiful. Know I love you more than the kutte on my back. You are my heaven on earth babygirl.” Happy held your chin in his hands. “Aww so corny!” you looked over to see Tig, Jax, Juice and Kozik walking in from the side gate. “Shut up assholes and get out of here so I can make love to my girl in the hottub.” Happy growled out to them. Kozik walked up to you, ignoring Happy. He kissed your forehead. “Thanks sis, for everything you do for Happy, Kozy and the club.” “I will always be here for you all.” You smiled wrapping your arms tightly around your brothers body. He hugged you tightly, rocking you back and forth. “Alright all, lets get out of here so Happy can fuck his girl.” Tig spoke bluntly. “Tig, really..” Kozik groaned, not wanting to think of it happening. They all waved to the two of you and headed out. “Alright, you up for relaxing in this winter wonderland?” Happy wiggled his eyebrows. You chuckled at the childish movement. “Always my love.” “Let me go get towels. Strip naked babe. No one can see us over the fence. I will bring Kozys outdoor cott out here and his blanket.” Smiling you thought about how being domestic was a good look on Happy.

Happy walked out with two large towels. He set them on the small table that was set on the side of the hottub. He went back and grabbed Kozys bed and laid it on the patio. The dog snuggling on it and laying his head down. coming back outside for the last time, Happy brought out two cups of coffee. He seen you had gotten into the hot tub, licking his lips instantly. “Love seeing my girl naked and wet.” You chuckled at his pun. Happy stripped his clothes off, twirling his shirt above his head dramatically. “That’s it baby, dance for me!” you whistled. Happy laughed a bit and got into the hot tub. He relaxed feeling the warm water and jets relaxing his exhausted muscles. After all, ordering prospects around was a job within itself. “Thank you Happy, for all of this.” You smiled shyly. “Of course. I could tell you where sad when I left at the time you where decorating. I wanted to do this for you.” You nodded, scooting over to sit in his lap. Pressing a heated kiss to the lips you had kissed so many times before. Each time feeling like the first to you. Happy took his wet and warm hand and grabbed you face, forcing his tongue past your lips. The feeling of his warm tongue dancing with yours felt heavenly. “Need you..” He bit your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it, to leave it puffy. You slowly lifted your self on your knees as Happy positioned himself right under you. His slid his hand down over your hips and to your ass, slowly pushing you down on him. Both of you enjoying the initial first thrust. Happy went back to attacking your lips. How the passion between over the years never faulted you will never know. As you moved your hips and slid up and down on him, you noticed Happys head fall back in pleasure. He rarely showed that side of him, letting the pleasure fully take hold of him. “Fuck.. baby..” you moaned out, you knew this was not going to last long. When love making held this much passion, you both knew it was going to be short and pleasureful. As you bounced on him more, he grabbed your hips tightly “Fuck Y/N… I cant last… You feel to fucking good..” he leveled his eyes with you. He started to thrust up into you, the water splashing all over the place as he moved his hips with yours. He press a bite to your throat and you where done for. The pain and extreme pleasure caused you to black out momentarily.

After the two of you caught your breath, you went to get off of his lap. Happy held you in place. “No love, lets watch the sunrise together in OUR winterwonderland.” You looked at the sky and seen the pinks, yellows and oranges as the sky started to wake for the day. This was a life worth living

#happy lowman #happy x reader #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #kozik #herman kozik #jax #jax teller #tig #tig trager

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wittyno · 6 years ago

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Would Nelson & Murdock have won Frank Castle's trial if Matt had ignored Elektra and focused 100% on defending Frank?

Oh God, that’s a big ask if I ever saw one.

One I don’t think he could have ignored Elektra say what you want about her but she knows how to stick around.

Lets take this a step further lets say Elektra never came back. We just have the same season but without Elektra, and then the answer becomes trickier. I’m also going to level with you it’s been a while since I’ve watched DD2 for anything other than quick giffing purposes.

The trial of Frank is a... legal fuck up. I know it looks cool, but it falls into a lot of the traps that a lot of Hollywood falls into. Trials like these take months maybe even years not days/weeks.

There is a lot of legal stuff that Matt and Foggy could/should have done. For example, why on God’s green earth was the gallery full? Especially with protesters, who had SIGNS? Who in their right mind would allow that, and other nitpicks. All of that is stupid, but they have a story to tell so fine.

What annoys me is two-fold (I know only two folds). First, the insanity plea. WHAT THE FUCK??? NO, who thought this was a good idea? Frank fits neither of the NY criteria to be declared unfit. It should have never been a conversation. Especially once Frank said he wasn’t insane. Lawyers are in the service industry. They do not get to decide a clients’ pleas/defenses. Lawyers are pizza delivery people, but with more debt.

Second, Matt’s CX. I don’t even know where to start. I get they want Matt to give a big speech, but that’s not what this is about. This is about CX. He’s supposed to be asking Frank questions, not giving a speech. I am a fan of Charlie Cox’s acting in this scene, but it just doesn’t fit. I get what all of it represents especially when it comes to Matt’s inner struggle, but.... it’s still bullshit. Why even put Frank on the stand???

But let’s go out even further on our little limb and say that Matt and Foggy did everything right. Imagine no Elektra and N and M actually acted like competent lawyers. Even then it’s hard to say. It was a losing battle, but they could have won, even if it was on a technicality/appeal.

One of the tragic beauties of the American justice system is the trial by jury (peers). Some may not know but trial by jury isn’t as commonplace around the world as some might think, which is good and bad. Trial by jury works for “ordinary” cases (murder, manslaughter, b and e, ect), but it can fail miserably at the “extraordinary” cases, see the patent lawsuits with Apple.

Trial by peers only works if you have peers. Frank, and by extension Matt, don’t really have any peers. It’s not normal to run around playing vigilante, despite what Captain America says (still salty). There is an understanding gap. Matt and Frank are so extraordinary that you really can not relate to them so any ruling handed down by a jury is... arbitrary.

That said the more interesting question is: “Do you agree with the guilty verdict?”. Even knowing what we know, that Frank was railroaded and that his family was set up ect. ect., and honestly? I find myself agreeing with the jury. Frank deserves a penalty. He does not deserve the insanity plea, which would have landed him in a care facility, not back out on the streets. He deserves punishment. He killed people. Yes, bad people. People who themselves had committed many crimes, but they are still people.

For someone who has spent way too many hours watching/giffing/writing about vigilantes I sure don’t agree with them. There is a reason we have laws!!! Laws for the most part help our society function, rather than not. Vigilantism is flawed beyond belief. It can not be a mass activity, because that’s called anarchy. It only “works” when it’s done by the “right” people, and for the “right” reasons.

Main Point: I keep spelling Castle as Kastle.

That trial was almost as fucked as the future of DD itself.

#matt murdock #daredevil #karen page #karedevil #daredevil meta #netflix daredevil

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 6 years ago

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Dad-Bods and 6-Packs: The 14 Dreamiest Dads of Horror

Father’s Day is a day to let Dad know we care about him just as much as he cares about us. It is on this day that we celebrate the men who have been there to teach us, those that have guided us, protected us, and … made us swoon.

I know you’re thinking this is wrong, wrong, wrong and anyone who keeps tabs on the hot dads of others must have some sort of ‘daddy-issue’ of her own, but I can assure you I do not and this is all sorts of right if you can recognize a good looking man when you see one.

This is a list of dad crushes and appreciated fathers of a very specific focus, leaving out the neighbors’ husbands and my friends’ dads (much to their relief). What we’re looking at here are the dads and father figures of the horror genre, an archetype that has since evolved by way of appearance and family involvement. Modern generations have appropriated the term ‘daddy’, once used to solely label our own fathers while we were children, to now refer to other attractive, older, men of all kinds including those with fit, rock hard abs to the worship of the ‘dad-bod’ in all its glory. We might as well enjoy the gratuity these casting directors have thrown at us and let our insides fill with butterflies before the gore and jump scares become a distraction.

Let’s take a taboo look at the dreamiest daddies of horror, in every sense of the term you’d like to apply:

Jesse Hellman in The Devil’s Candy

What line do I need to get in to meet a man that has great taste in music, has mad artistic skills, and has a super ripped body? While watching The Devil’s Candy, I kept thinking about how good of a dad Ethan Embry’s Jesse Hellman is to his daughter as he encourages her to be a confident individual, and how much I wanted to join their family. It’s clear to anyone with eyes that Ethan Embry has gone from playing the hopeless, hapless, friendzone inhabitant to the role of a bad-ass, hard core, head-banging king. His portrayal of Jesse Hellman has redefined the typical ‘dad’ image, bringing on a new wave of ‘cool dads’ to the horror genre. So metal. So devilishly hot.

The Devil’s Candy? More like The Eye Candy, am I right?

(Thanks, Keith!)

Leo Barnes in The Purge Anarchy

I know how the typical saying goes, but in my experience I believe revenge is a dish best served piping hot and I consider Frank Grillo’s Sergeant Leo Barnes to raise mercury when it comes to that. The vengeful father is hellbent on taking full opportunity of murdering the man responsible for his young son’s death the night of the annual Purge, but he also has a tender heart for the innocent and helps them live through the night no matter the cost. Under that black trench coat, armored car, and dark smouldering look, Leo is a protective softie at heart. Major daddy vibes!

Leo, well, Grillo, gets bonus points for having great hair too.

Michael Hamilton in The Cloverfield Paradox

Quite possibly the only one on this list that makes all of the right decisions while also being the most compassionate is Michael Hamilton (Roger Davies), husband to engineer Ava Hamilton. Ava leaves her husband back on Earth to board the orbiting Cloverfield Station in hopes of saving the planet from a debilitating energy crisis. Aside from allowing her to go without so much as a plea, he is a real man who supports his wife’s intelligence, decisions, and abilities. Michael is the man running into the terrible unknown attack to offer his professional assistance when a more immediate crisis occurs. We learn that crisis is New York City being deconstructed by one of our favorite movie monsters, Clover. His care for a stranded little girl and sincere love for his wife stuck in space is a recipe for not only a good former dad, but also for a good man.

Plus… look at those biceps and appled cheek bones! I don’t know which I want to grab first. The Cloverfield Paradox lacked in a lot of areas, mostly in Michael Hamilton screen time.

George Lutz in The Amityville Horror (2005)

Whether you’re attracted to men or not, I think everyone can back me up when I say Ryan Reynolds as George Lutz in the 2005 remake of The Amityville Horror is one of the hottest dads in cinema. That body of his would have me burning through firewood in hopes he’d go outside to chop some more so often that the ghosts would flee on their own from smoke inhalation quicker than the Lutz’s did. Who needs a priest?

Why the kids have such negative feelings about him becoming their stepdad is beyond me. I’d be willing, eagerly, to take up residency with George at the Amityville house, oozing walls and all.

Lee Abbott in A Quiet Place

Anyone into the strong, silent type? If existing with John Krasinski’s Lee Abbott means a vow of silence, then consider me forever on ‘mute’. I think what makes Lee so appealing to viewers of this year’s breakout films, A Quiet Place, is the familiarity and comfort most of us have with him as loveable Jim of The Office, but Krasinski has since matured in both his career and his look. Lee is intelligent, bold, and, like Jim, a bit of a romantic. Silent swoon!

Say goodbye to the days of Krasinski playing the cute, sweet, funny co-worker and hello to the crafty, well-built, and handsomely bearded leading man we’d gladly sit tight in silence through the apocalypse for. Monopoly, anyone?

Will in The Invitation

Speaking of quiet types, Logan Marshall-Green as the paranoid dinner guest Will in Karen Kusama’s The Invitation is one smoking brooder. Green has recently made a bit of a name for himself in the horror community with starring roles in M. Night Shyamalan’s thriller Devil and Leigh Whannell’s super charged Upgrade, but it’s this particular serious role of a grieving father suspicious of his ex-wife’s dinner party motives that has really drawn our attention. His tortured performance full of sizzling glances and lingering stares is intriguing and, despite the emotional pain he’s feeling over the loss of his son, is unfortunately quite sexy. Who wouldn’t want to haveWill sulking in their lap while running fingers through those long locks?

There is no mystery behind it, Will is the white hot flame of this slow burn.

John Form in Annabelle

Have you ever met a man so smart, yet his common sense skills are a little… off? Dr. John Form is one of those guys. He is a clean cut, all American, Boy Scout of a man who is focused on achieving his goals and being enclosed within a white picket fence with his wife and growing family.

If you dig pleated pants, sweater vests, and having a hot dinner ready on the table for your husband when he arrives home from work (despite an obvious household haunting) then John is the ideal daddy. His pearly white smile and perfectly parted hair makes it a little easier to forgive him for ignorantly gifting his pregnant wife with a deadly, obviously creepy, conduit doll in Annabelle. It’s the thought that counts so we’ll gladly accept the sweet stupid sting from this handsome WASP.

Johnathan Shannon in Wish Upon

Theres a clever saying people use down here in the south that applies well to Ryan Phillippe’s character Johnathan Shannon, in Wish Upon. It is used most commonly when someone wants to “politely” pity you without sounding mean: Bless is heart.

The role is not exactly ground-breaking front neither is the film, but it is Ryan Phillippe so naturally some part of you is going to react to his level of bad boy charm.

Normally, a man that can be found rummaging through the town’s trash cans as an all-day hobby is not truly an appealing quality I seek out in a man, but I’d be willing to make an exception here.

Imagine if he was your dad, or better yet, imagine if he was your friend’s dad? I knew exactly how Barb (Shannon Pursor who plays Phillippe’s daughter’s friend, but she will always be Barb) felt when she stared at him, mouth agape, while he pumped out some sizzling tunes from his saxophone. Oh yeah, did I mention he is a jazz musician? It’s not necessary for him to utter any of the poorly written lines for us to appreciate him for exactly what he is: a hot, dumpster diving, saxophone playing, widowed hoarder.

Yeah… I’d still go for him.

Tom Witzky in Stir of Echoes

Kevin Bacon’s Tom Witzky is the hot, young dad on the block in Stir of Echoes. Though him and his wife have been forced from the party scene to settle in the more suburban part of town to raise their son, Tom still knows how to have a good time. He too is a modern, sexy rocker dad who appreciates a snug t-shirt and a good vinyl. I’d be okay with him destroying the backyard in search of a random dead girl’s body if it meant he’d do it shirtless each time.

I don’t want to objectify Bacon too much as he is a pretty talented actor, he’s just never really been my cup of tea aside from this film. Tom Witzky and his 90’s post-grunge demeanor must have me hypnotized…

Seok-Woo in Train to Busan

Does anyone love a professionally dressed man in a tailored suit covered in sweat and blood as much as I do?

Workaholic Seok-Woo in Yeon-Sang ho’s epic South Korean zombie thriller Train to Busan might start off as an absent minded, selfish man trapped in the middle of a horrendous undead outbreak with his young daughter, but it’s his protective and ultimately selfless decisions that redeem him as a character and as a father. He is an extremely good looking and confident man that just needed a reality check. Being aware of the errors of his ways only makes him that much more attractive. If I was going to be trapped on a train I wouldn’t mind the uncomfortable claustrophobia nor the impending doom-by-zombies-masses if it meant he’d be close to me!

Sacrifice is always hot and always gets a guy extra points in this genre.

Dr. Steven Murphy in The Killing Of a Sacred Deer

I briefly hesitated a little when adding Colin Farrell’s odd character from the divisive The Killing of A Sacred Deer mostly because of two reasons: 1. Out of all the dads on this list and in general, he’s pretty much the worst as far as decision making and being selfish and 2. His intimacy predelicition towards getting off on his wife acting like a corpse was decidedly a huge turn-off to me… or was it?

Thanks to some sage reasoning from a trusted fellow Contributor (Thanks, Tyler!), Dr. Steven Murphy made this list by the scrape of a scalpel. His intimacy kinks are not to be judged as he is, on the outside, hot all over. You know what they say about what goes on behind closed doors.

The thick handsome beard, hairy chest, kind eyes, the accent, and the fact that all of those are attached to Collin Farrell was enough to win me over (combined with a palette cleansing viewing of Sophia’s Coppola’s The Beguiled).

As much as I hate to admit, this cardiovascular surgeon did indeed get my heart pumping whether he liked that or not.

Jim Hopper in Stranger Things

While Chief Jim Hopper is adult mourning the loss of his daughter at the start of Stranger Things, he is a reborn daddy the minute he takes in Eleven come the second season. Their relationship is absolutely adorable and pulls on our heartstrings in the best of ways.

But that’s not why Jim makes this list.

David Harbour, specifically as Hopper, has one of the best dad-bods in horror and science-fiction alike. I like 6-pack abs just as much as the next girl, but hugging up on a dad-bod like his is my heart’s truest desire. Hopper is a good looking testament to attractive beer guts everywhere and proves that dad-bod is THE real deal.

Average is sexy, so is a uniform. We totally dig it, guys.

Adam Maitland in Beetlejuice

Though considerably a stretch, this suggested from another fellow Contributor (Thanks, Jessica!) couldn’t go unnoticed. Adam Maitland is not a father in Beetlejuice, but rather he acts like a dad to our favorite outsider, Lydia, and is certainly more of a father figure to her than her own. Adam’s willingness to step up to the plate when so many real fathers bow out, gives him enough dad credit to be considered for the list.

What really qualifies Alec Baldwin’s early role is that Adam is living and breathing (sort of) Dad-style incarnate. The khakis, the glasses, the belt, the plaid, the modeling hobby. Adam is all dad from the inside out without actually being one and for some, I’m assuming, psychologically explainable reason we find him to be completely crush-worthy, ironically hitting us right in our amorous feelings.

Adam is the one dad on this list we can safely fantasize about only because he is not a dad by law nor by biology.

He can haunt my house anytime.

Lucifer in Rosemary’s Baby

As one of our brilliant Nightmare on Film Street hosts pointed out, I really can’t complete this list without including the biggest, baddest, and most physically hottest dad in all of horror and cinema, the devil himself (Thanks, Kim!).

He’s actually fiery and steamy, being the King of Hell and all, and is, biologically, father to the otherworldly offspring he’s forced upon poor Rosemary in Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby. He may not be a pleasant looker, unless your into horns, hoofs, and a tail, but I’m gonna label him the ‘wild card’ of this list because all groups need one. Looks are subjective, so the criteria for being a ‘hot dad’ of horror is not necessarily reliant on outer appearance alone.

Lucifer is the hottest, literally.

There you have it, a sizzling handful of dreamy dads to make your Father’s Day either super uncomfortable or a lot more enjoyable. Horror is getting hotter and hotter every day and the cast lists for the roles of daddies, I mean, fathers is setting off smoke alarms in all directions. If we have to face flesh-eating zombies, tormenting demons, blood hungry murderers, invading creatures, and the inevitable end of the world why not sit back, embrace the modern times, and enjoy the view?

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there! You’re all automatic additions to this list for being horror fans to begin with.

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imagination-going-100 · 7 years ago

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Imagine // Those Who Have Nothing

Request: Would it be possible to ask for a Wells/Reader drabble where Reader saves him? (how this happens is up to you)? Tiny bit of angst if Wells doesn't know about the attempt? Details are entirely up to you.

Pairings: Wells x F!Reader, Wells x Clarke

Warnings: Swearing, confused teenager who don’t know how to deal with feelings, mentions of violence, general OOCness, angst, I think that covers it?

Word Count: 3887

I'm probably making a sequel to this. Enjoy!

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Fresh air and a storm of entirely new sounds drowned out every one of your coherent thoughts from a moment. The dropship’s door had opened and brought with it an explosion of new sensations. The smell, the sounds, the light breeze that drifted into the dropship, you struggled to commit it all to memory.

Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden under the floor, was the first to exit. She stood on the door for a moment, simply taking it all in, before jumping down. Her feet hit the forest floor with a low thud. For a moment, a painstakingly long moment, you felt the anxiousness rise in you. What if it wasn’t safe? What if she and all the rest of you would be dead in mere seconds?

Octavia lifted her arms into the air. “We’re back, bitches!”

All fear disappeared as the other juveniles poured out of the dropship. Instead, all you could to was marvel at the sight. Soft greens covered every inch of your sight, no grey metal walls in sight.

You were on the ground. It was too much. Beneath you, your knees gave out. You stumbled a little, holding onto the doorframe of the dropship for support.

You were really on the ground.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whispered.

“It is, isn’t it?” Someone came up next to you. The voice was flat, and it was one you didn’t recognize. You looked over to see who the voice belonged to.

The Chancellor’s son, Wells Jaha, stood right next to you. Your brain couldn’t quite comprehend it. He had everything you didn’t. He was from Alpha station, you were from Factory. His friends were Alpha-born, yours were working class. His father was chancellor, his late mother a renowned chemist. Yours were, well, not.

And yet, here you both stood, the first people in over a century to set foot on the ground. Prisoners. Juveniles. Side by side. Wells had had everything, and suddenly he had nothing.

He clenched his jaw. With a steely expression he strode past you, out of the dropship, staring straight ahead.

No, he didn’t seem like someone who had just had his entire life turned upside down. Wells seemed to be in complete control.

You gripped the metal frame tighter, before straightening your back. This was the ground, and the Ark had left you to your own vices down here. Anything could be awaiting you out in the forest.

Following Wells’ example, you walked out of the dropship, staring straight ahead.

Though you tried your best, putting on a brave face wasn’t easy. Everything was so unusual here. Even the smallest thing would remind you how painfully out of your depth you were.

Clarke, as the others had called her, had left for Mount Weather a day ago. You had considered joining them, but in the end, you didn’t want to leave camp. Not that you could do much to stop it but leaving Bellamy in charge of everything seemed like a terrible idea. Mostly because his idea of being in charge was to not enforce any rules at all. If there was one thing your common sense told you, it was that letting a bunch of juvenile teenagers go wild without any repercussions whatsoever was, well, stupid.

To be frank, Bellamy’s attitude annoyed you. His hypocrisy was even worse. We do what we want, he said, but he still got to have the final word. You knew the other teens were excited to be here, but so excited they couldn’t tell that Bellamy was saying one thing, then doing the opposite? Things had gotten out of control. With no one else to lead, nothing got done, and at this rate, you’d all starve to death before any potential radiation got a chance to kill you. Something needed to be done, but what?

With clothes under one arm and a pair of shoes in his other hand, Wells limped up to the front of the dropship.

“Hey, where’d you get the clothes?” One of Bellamy’s henchmen stepped forward to confront him.

“I buried the two kids who died during the landing.” Wells’ voice was even, far less aggressive than you expected. The other guy wasn’t being particularly friendly. There was no doubt he had only stepped forward in an attempt to intimidate Wells.

“Smart. You know,” the lackey reached out to grab the shoes, “I’ll take it from here.”

With a grace you wouldn’t have expected from someone with a sprained ankle, Wells dodged and took a step back. “We share based on need. Just like back home.”

Your attention was pulled towards the dropship as Bellamy stepped out. “You still don’t get it, do you, Chancellor?” He was accompanied by a girl with no shirt. As the two of them kiss, you had to put an effort into rolling your eyes. Wells looked like he was fighting the same urge.

“This is home now,” Bellamy continued. His attitude was relaxed–which in and of itself was more intimidating than what his lackey had been going for–as he started walking towards Wells. “Your father’s rules don’t apply anymore.”

“Then what rules do apply?” You had had enough, finally stepping forward. “The ones you make up on the spot? The one that lets you say, ‘whatever the hell we want,’ but when Wells wants to share his things based on need, that’s suddenly not alright?”

Three pairs of eyes were now on you. Bellamy snorted, half a smile playing on his lips; he didn’t take you seriously at all. “And who, exactly, are you?”

“Someone who’s not buying into your bullcrap.”

His lackey took a step towards you. “Oh, this kitten has claws.”

But you refused to stand down. You walked right past him, making sure to crash your shoulder as hard as you could into him, before stopping in front of Bellamy, leaning as close into his personal space as you could. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face, because I swear to you, because that little power you think you have? It won’t last. You can’t run a country with fear without there eventually being some kind of reckoning.”

Bellamy wasn’t smiling anymore. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m saying that when people finally see through your hypocrisy and gather behind someone else, when all of your supporters have left you in the dust, then what will you have? A reputation as a bully? Anarchy does nothing but leave a power vacuum, and unless you intend to get your shit together and step up, I can guarantee that whoever else fills it won’t have patience for your idiocy.”

His jaw clenched, and he presented you with a forced smile. “Was that everything, kitten?”

“Y/N,” Wells’ hand was suddenly on your shoulder. It threw you off, just enough for the tension to break and for both you and Bellamy to take a couple of steps back. Neither of you said anything to each other, refusing to break eye contact.

“Wells is keeping the clothes.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Bellamy turned and walked off, still shirtless. His lackey followed behind.

Wells removed his hand from your shoulder. It dawned on you, now that Bellamy had walked off. You turned around in order to face Wells. “You know my name?”

“I, uh, yes?” he seemed to hesitate. “Should I not?”

“No, no, that’s not it, I just wasn’t expecting you to.” The atmosphere turned kind of awkward.

“Anyways,” Wells changed the subject, “thank you for jumping in.”

You shrugged. “Things can’t go on like this. If the next week is going to be anything like these last twenty-four hours, I don’t know how we’ll make it.” You smile at him. “Plus, it was kind of satisfying to knock him off his high horse.”

Wells laughed. “Kind of?”

“Alright,” you jokingly threw your hands up in the air, “it felt very satisfying to knock him off his high horse.”

“I can only imagine,” he nodded towards the dropship. The two of you began walking inside. “Where are you from?”

“Factory,” you grabbed the curtain, holding it open so that Wells could duck inside. “And you’re–”

“Alpha.”

“Yeah, I know. Chancellor’s son and all.”

“It feels so strange.”

You stopped in front of the ladder. “What does?”

“To have everyone know stuff about me.” He looked away from you.

“What, not enjoying the celebrity lifestyle?”

He snorted. “No, it’s just… When people know things about you, they also think they know you, you know? Because my dad’s the Chancellor, everyone here has an idea of what I’m like. But how many of them do you think has actually spent more than three minutes with me.”

“Clarke?”

Wells went quiet. He looked over to you, taking a deep breath while doing so. “With her, it’s… complicated.”

“How so? Or do you want me to stop asking questions?”

“I think it’s a conversation I won’t mind saving for another day.” He took a hold of the ladder. “I’m not going to get up here, I think. You mind?”

“Of course.” You were already two steps up the ladder before freezing. “And Wells?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not saying I know you, but I like what I’ve seen so far.” You turned around to look at him. “You’re a good person.”

“I… thank you, Y/N,” his cheeks had darkened a little. As the silence settled around you, the atmosphere grew kind of… you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Awkward?

You cleared your throat. “I still need you to give me the clothes.”

“Oh, right.”

“No… No… Don’t! No! N—” she girl’s eyes opened, and she flinched, pulling herself away from your touch, fear marring her features.

“Hey, hey,” you kept your voice low, soothing, “it was just a nightmare, alright? It’s not real, you’re alright.”

“I know,” she croaked out. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Her hand quickly wiped it away. “I know. Clarke already talked to me. But…” her voice faded out into a sob that racked her entire body.

You didn’t say anything, instead just pulled her close. She couldn’t be much older than twelve, maybe thirteen. Sometimes, people didn’t need words, they just needed to let it out. Your hand stroked her neck, barely making contact, just a little something to make her feel grounded in reality.

Eventually her breathing evened out. You pulled back a little to give her some space. “What’s your name?”

Her voice was faint, tired. “Charlotte.”

“Hey, Charlotte, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your eyes met, and you studied her face. “I’m going to be very blunt here. People deal with grief differently. Some want to be left alone, some want to talk about it, some want to distract themselves. I’m not a mind reader, and since I don’t know you, I’m just going to have to ask: What do you want me to do?”

She looked surprised. “I, uh, I’ve already talked about it, so maybe… distraction?”

“Alright, alright,” you thought for a second, “how about I tell you a story?”

A small smile broke out across her lips. She looked younger, then, when she got excited. “Really? What kind of story?”

“Are you too old for fairytales?”

“I mean,” she fidgeted with a small rock, “I’m not ten anymore, you know.”

“Right, right, of course, I can see that.” You leaned in towards her. “How about I tell you something that happened to me today?”

Charlotte perked up. “What?” She was whispering. It was amazing, in a way, to see how much younger she became when the pain was subsiding. It felt like a punch in the gut. She was just a child. You were all just children.

Spite welled up inside of you. And they had sent you down here to die. The Chancellor’s words echoed in your mind, one word in particular lingering. Frankly, you’re expendable.

“The guy I like blushed when I said I like him.” Was it rude to assume a twelve-year old would be really excited at the mention of romance? Perhaps it was, but as you watched Charlotte’s eyes widen, you knew you weren’t wrong.

“You confessed to him?” Charlotte blurted out. She got up to her knees and grabbed your arm, hard, with both hands.

You sputtered. “Ow!” Charlotte immediately removed her hands, as if she had been shocked. You held her gaze, and she seemed to hold her breath, before both of you broke out laughing.

“Well, if I wasn’t sure you weren’t ten anymore, now I am!” You went straight for her stomach. She half screamed, half laughed as you began tickling her. “You’re so strong, Charlotte!”

“Wait, nonono, that’s not fair!”

“Alright, alright,” you relented, “I’ll let you of with that.”

Charlotte’s cheeks were red, and her smile only grew wider, until she suddenly turned serious, sitting up straight. “But you didn’t finish the story.”

It was your turn to blush. “Well, I, uh, I didn’t exactly confess. It was more of a ‘I like you as a person’ and less of a ‘I want to be your girlfriend’ situation.”

“But you do ‘want to be his girlfriend’-like him?”

Did you? You hadn’t known him for very long–five days, to be exact–and you weren’t sure. “Maybe? I think I need to get to know him better first.”

A smug smile spread across Charlotte’s face. “You like him.”

You feigned indignation. “And when did you become such an expert?”

“I can tell. You like him.”

You shrug, exaggerating the motion. “I’ll take your word for it, then. Come,” you get up, “let’s get some breakfast.”

A never-ending stream of people suddenly started to fill the dropship. The air was filled with shouts: “The air is toxic!” “Close the windows, hurry!” “It burns!”

You were pushed towards the wall as the dropship became more and more crowded. You turned towards the person next to you. “What’s going on?” “Some sort of fog. It’s not breatha–” the girl broke down into a coughing fit.

“Are you alright?” She nodded. You started pushing your way through the crowd, panic surging within you; there was still people out there. The hunters, Clarke, Bellamy, Charlotte… Wells.

The dropship suddenly seemed fragile. You had no idea if it would keep this fog out, what destruction the fog was capable of wreaking. All around you, more and more voices joined the fray. No one seemed to stand still, shifting their weight, constantly moving. The ground seemed unsteady beneath your feet.

The tension was thick in the air, boiling just beneath the surface. Everyone in the room felt it. One small action would be enough to cause an explosion.

You couldn’t let things get out of control. Not at a time like this. The ladder was right in front of you, and you climbed up.

“Everyone!” your voice cut through the noise, loud and clear. You had expected the buzzing to continue, but everyone went quiet as soon as you raised your voice. They were afraid, you realized, as afraid as you.

God, this was a first. You were Factory-born, a nobody, and now everyone was looking to you.

Suddenly, Bellamy’s moodiness and Clarke’s harsh voice seemed to make more sense. All of these people looked expectantly on you, but they relied on people like Bellamy and Clarke. On people like Wells.

And now, on you as well. If it would ease the burden for the others, you’d help. Someone needed to do it. “I want ten volunteers to do a headcount. We need to know how many people are not in this dropship.”

Silence.

“No one?”

“I’ll do it,” the girl who had coughed stepped forward.

“Yeah, me too.” The two became three, then four, then a crowd.

“Thank you,” you breathed, straightening your back. “Okay. Most of us will stay down here, but anyone willing to go up and take care of the hurt kid and the radio, do that.”

Three hands shot up and you gave them a nod.

“Everyone, get in line!” the girl shouted, voice hoarse.

“Hey, you, what are you doing?” Murphy grabbed your arm. His brows were furrowed. “Bellamy left me in charge.”

You ripped your arm loose. “Then you should have taken charge.”

“If you think you can–”

“Murphy!” you interrupted him. “This has to wait until we’re not stuck in the dropship anymore. Or it will cause a panic.”

He looked taken back. You held his gaze, and something that resembled an understanding passed between you. He cleared his throat. “Right.”

“They’re just scared.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m just scared.”

He shrugged, scratching himself under his nose, gave you one last look, and walked away.

You felt silly, but the jealousy churned away in your stomach. Whatever the feud between Clarke and Wells had been, she had forgiven him. You hadn’t meant to spot them, but seeing Clarke hug him, seeing how he looked at her…

He loved her. He was in love with her.

You wanted to scream. How could you ever think he would look at someone like you, when Clarke, the golden girl, from Alpha station, beautiful, charismatic, intelligent, and just perfect in every way, was right there? “Fuck!”

“Ah!”

You turned towards where the scream had come from, suddenly on edge. “Who’s there?! Show yourse–Charlotte?”

She stepped out of the shadows, small, fidgeting with something.

You felt your shoulders sag with relief. “Charlotte, what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I was just going to…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I was going to make the nightmares stop.”

“Oh, Charlotte,” you took a step towards her, then froze as she stepped away. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were someone else.”

“Charlotte,” your voice was sterner, “what’s wrong?” Your gaze dropped to what she was fidgeting with. “Is… Is that a knife?”

A sob escaped her lips, her face looked as white as a sheet.

“Charlotte, tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” she looked down on the knife, “I was going to slay my demons.” You didn’t follow, and it was clearly written on your face, because Charlotte elaborated as soon as she saw your expression. “Bellamy told me the nightmares would stop if I could slay my demons.”

Realization dawned on you. “You’ve never told me what your nightmares are about.”

“My parents,” she took a deep breath, “they were executed. I see it, over and over, in my dreams.”

“Oh, Charlotte.”

“I just want to make it go away.” Her voice cracked. “I thought, if I could make the Chancellor go away…”

You grabbed onto her before you could think and pulled her towards you, into an embrace. She was shaking like a leaf. “How would you do that, Charlotte?”

“I was… I was going to slay the demon.”

The demon here had to be the Chancellor. You slowly caressed her cheek while she cried. Slay the Chancellor… with a knife… how would she–

Oh.

“You were going to kill Wells?” You didn’t sound angry, only numb.

She kept her face pressed into your chest, still shaking, her voice barely above a hiss as she answered: “I’m sorry.”

You were appalled, and confused, and scared, and angry. But Charlotte was just a child, young enough to easily misunderstand a metaphor like that. How could you fault her for this?

She should take responsibility for this, one half of you whispered. She hasn’t done anything yet, the other half retorted. She meant to. You stopped her. But did you change her mind?

“Give me the knife.” The anger in your voice wasn’t hidden as well as you had hoped it would be. Charlotte did, slow, as to not accidentally hurt you. Murphy’s knife, you realized. How the hell had she gotten her hands on that? “I won’t tell on you, alright? But you have to promise me two things first.”

She nodded vigorously.

“One, no more making decision like this by yourself. If you have a problem, come talk to me, no matter how small or big. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“Second, you have to learn that demons can’t be killed or slayed, but you can chase them away. Become Wells’ friend.”

“What?”

“Wells is not a demon. His father is not a demon. The demons are small and invisible, and they make you think that other people are the demons instead of them, so you can’t make them leave.” You pulled away from Charlotte and looked her straight into the eyes. “You need to look at these people and learn the difference. When the demons realize you’re smarter than them, they’ll slowly leave you alone and you’ll heal.”

“I–”

“Talk to them. Talk to me. And when the others come down, talk to a doctor. Killing won’t help you, only hurt you, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Go back to the dropship now. Find Clarke or Bellamy if you don’t want to be alone. I’ll be right there.”

Charlotte seemed so small and tired. Her retreating back looked as if it might crumple any moment. And to think you had just been sulking about your crush.

It made you feel worse, to be honest.

You went further into the woods, until you found who Charlotte had originally been looking for. Wells turned to you and smiled from where he was sitting. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You smiled back. “May I sit?”

“Sure.”

A pause.

“Something good happened.”

“Oh?” You know what it was, but you feigned surprise anyway.

“Clarke and I, we’re not on bad terms anymore. She forgave me.”

“Wells! That’s great!” It was an awkward gesture, but you grabbed his arm anyways, tried to digest whatever butterflies were in your stomach.

He was blushing from just thinking about her, just from saying her name. God, you really didn’t stand a chance. The divide between you felt larger than it ever had, he seemed more unreachable than ever before. Even when you didn’t know him, he had felt closer to you than this.

Still, you forced a smile for his benefit. “I’m so happy for you, Wells.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Perhaps it made you a shitty person, but you didn’t want to listen to him praise Clarke anymore: “I’m so tired. I think I’ll head back to the dropship.”

“Wait, I really need to–”

“Talk to you later.” You got up and left, legs carrying you away from him as quickly as they could.

Fuck. Fuck it all. Fuck Wells. Fuck Clarke. Fuck Charlotte.

But mostly, fuck yourself. You were being petty, and you hated it. Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

You had to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

The first day on the ground flashed before your eyes; you saw Wells, how he straightened his back and walked out of the dropship. The boy who had nothing, walking as if he could take on everything.

As bitter as it was, you followed his example and straightened your back.

You were the girl who had nothing. You were the girl who was really damn angry about that. You were the girl who would walk as if you had everything. And you were the girl who was going to take on the world and not stop for anything.

#The 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 wells #the 100 wells jaha #wells jaha #the 100 wells imagine #wells imagine #wells jaha imagine #the 100 wells jaha imagine #imagine #the 100 imagines #ig100

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