#man we got VULTURES is that not metal as hell??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soubi122 · 11 months ago

Text

Funeral

This is a oneshot that was collecting dust in my drafts and I finally managed to finish it - ft kakucho.

Warnings: Domestic violence, smut, pregnancy, cheating, mentions of death, slight dark content, alcohol, language, slight angst and fluff.

MDNR - MINORS, respectfully, GO AWAY.

You never thought about being this happy at a funeral. Past funerals attended were full of grief and sorrow. The person who left the earth would be someone whom you'd dearly loved or were close with, someone who you felt was taken too soon. But this was different, the funeral taking place today was for none other than your husband. What you thought would be the best thing in your life turned out to be a nightmare.

At the funeral many people flooded the marble floors, paying their respects to the dearly departed. His large portrait was on a stand surrounded by white and yellow chrysanthemums. The sight of these flowers was too pure for the vile being that was being honored today. Strangers were coming up to you and bowing - giving their condolences for your loss. They placed small envelopes in a box, a red and gold box that you wanted to burn. He deserved none of the generosity offered today.

The black veil that covered your face felt like a mask, obscuring your features to avoid people gauging your reactions or grief, it also hid the ugly bruises and swollen eyes. For hours you've been sitting in that cushion and in pain. Your ribs were aching, the throbbing in your head wouldn't stop, the taste of metal on your tongue was driving you mad. As the funeral was winding down, the director approached you with a warm smile, years of practice and empathy made this process easy for them. “Mrs. (L/N)? We're at the last 10 minutes - we will begin escorting the guests out.” You nodded and were about to get up and leave but a tall figure approached you. Oh god, please… no more 'sorry for loss', 'your husband was a great man' lines. You think to yourself as you look up and notice the male's features. Raven hair, a scar that ran across the right side of his face to the left eye - despite his threatening appearance, the look in his eyes was sincere.

Remembering him as a recent acquaintance of your husband, you knew they were coming to ask about his will. Business is business after all, it will keep going even when you are laying on a metal slab or are 6ft underground. “(Y/N), I'm very sorry for your loss.” His stern but gentle tone caught you off guard. As you were beginning to bow, he spoke again - “We will need to speak regarding your husband's affairs and assets.” Here we go…the ever looming threat of his wealth was barreling towards you already and his ashes have yet to be scattered into the wind. The vultures were ready. “His attorney will be reading the will tomorrow - I'm sure he outlined what is to be done with his assets.” The raven haired man said nothing more and bowed, taking his leave. Finally, this act was over.

You made your way to the penthouse that you were forced to call home but now that he was gone, you welcomed the emptiness that awaited you. Kicking off your heels, you exhaled a sigh of relief and slid down to the floor - barely noticing the figure that emerged from the dark corner of your kitchen. Only when you heard the sound of a click did you notice the shadow. You began to put your hands up and stare into the dark corner, waiting for the figure to emerge. “Sorry to do this during your time of grief, but this is urgent.” The same scarred man approached you, he had a gun in hand, loaded and pointed in your direction.

Soon more figures emerged from the dark corners of your home. How the hell did they get past security? A knot began to form in your throat as the man tilted his head, pointing towards the kitchen island and telling you to take a seat without words. You got on your feet and made your way towards the island, silently taking a seat with your hands still up. The final figure that emerged was that of a shorter male with silver hair and eyes that looked like they haven't had a good night's rest in months. The dark circles became even more prominent by the dimmed overhead lights in your kitchen. “You can put your hands down, dollface.” One of the many men spoke, his tone was that of a psychopath - to avoid invoking anyone's wrath, you put your hands down on the counter. “Your husband's assets belong to us - at tomorrow's reading, you will relinquish them without any opposition.” A third voice said and his figure stepped into the dim light. He too had silver hair but his was long and he had eyes like a feral cat. A light chuckle escapes your lips as you reach for your coat pocket. In an instant your head was pinned against the counter, making you grunt and a gun was pressed against the back of your skull. “Don't even try, gorgeous…” Long slender fingers reached for the hand that held the metal object, prying it from your hold. “It's a cigarette box…” You say quietly without moving or resisting.

With a nod, the shorter man gave permission for them to remove the gun, allowing you to lift your head from the counter. “We will have someone accompany you to tomorrow's reading…as a safety precaution - wouldn't want you to make a break for it.” Your silence spoke volumes to them. “We can also just make you hand everything over without the attorney present.” Another voice said from behind you, his tone was much softer than the one who pinned you down. Just what the hell did your husband get into? How did they know where you lived? The only thing you could do is nod. “Kakucho, you and these three will stay with her until tomorrow's reading. Takeomi and Mochizuki will bring you some spare clothing in the morning.” The man who you assumed was Kakucho nodded. Were they really planning to spend the night here? Or did they have other plans in mind? Did they want to break you more than your husband already did? You looked at the man with the short silver hair, his eyes were empty, bare and cold. Though the veil covered your face and hid your expression, he saw right through it - the submission and fear. “They won't touch you unless you give them a reason to…” His words of reassurance did just the opposite.

Once the rest of the men left your penthouse, the others that remained began to make themselves at home and turned on the lights. Turning to face them, you noticed that they were all dressed in suits, had wildly colored hair and two of them had neck tattoos. The more ‘normal’ looking one was the raven haired man, with the exception of his facial scar. “So, dollface…you're probably wondering what your dear ol' husband did in order for us to be here…” The male with the psychopathic tone spoke, the two diamond shaped scars on the corners of his mouth curved as he smiled wickedly at you. Never have you seen such beautiful crystal eyes on such a sinister looking man. “You're scaring her Sanzu, she'll be sleeping with an eye open now thanks to you.” The coy and playful tone of the tallest male made you look in his direction. He had clean cut short purple tresses, the neck tattoo robbed your attention from his lavender eyes and handsome smirk. If you were to stand in front of him, you were sure to get top shelf vertigo. “Mikey said not to touch her.” The third male spoke, he had almost a matching hair color to the taller man but in mullet form, he too bore a neck tattoo - wait…that hanafuda design…it can't be! Alarm bells started going off in your head, you've seen the news, heard the rumors and seen first hand at what Bonten is capable of. That life of peace that you thought you were going to have? Well it just went up in smoke. These men were probably going to torture you, rape you or throw you in a brothel to pay off whatever your husband owed them.

It felt like your chest was about to burst, the anxiety was ravaging your nerves and mind. The shortness of breath and trembling started, when the raven haired man noticed, you were on the verge of passing out. He caught you right before the back of your head met the floor. “Hey! What's wrong?” He asked as you began to have a panic attack. A sharp pain in your chest was making it difficult to breathe or even speak. “Get her some water!” He ordered one of the others as he sat across from you on the floor. The others began bickering, yelling at each other over who scared you. There was too much noise. “I'm going to slowly remove your veil, ok? I'm not gonna hurt you.” His hands gently reached out to you and you screwed your eyes shut. Don't look at me, please…! The voice inside your head screamed, your body was too in shock to move away from him. When he removed the veil, they all went silent. “…fuck, we didn't know.” You could hear one of them say.

All four men flinched for a split second, recalling when they slammed your head against the counter. The purple and faded yellow bruises on your face and busted lip were staring at them dead in the face. The veil wasn't so that people wouldn't see your puffy crying eyes, it was to hide the pain and evidence of domestic violence.

The silence was overwhelming, making you panic even more - your breathing struggled again, snapping them out of their daze. You felt a pair of hands intertwining themselves with yours. Despite being inside, your hands felt like ice - the warmth of his hands made you feel alive. “I need you to try and take a deep breath. Focus on my voice, squeeze my hand if you understand.” Kakucho's soft and honeyed tone traveled through your ear canal and went straight to your chest. There was a soothing bass in his voice that made you follow his directions.

Slow and steady you began to take deep breaths, one light squeeze signaled your understanding. A second voice was now in your ear, gently he titled your head in his direction. “Slowly open your eyes and focus on me…what color are my eyes?” When you opened your eyes, you were met with a pair of lavender orbs and a tender gaze. “T-They're…beautiful.” You managed to stutter out, his eyes matched the taller male - were they siblings? Your comment made him smirk softly, usually when people stare into his eyes they see death. “Rindou, I think she likes you…” The taller male whispered as he noticed the slight blush on your face. Finally, you were beginning to relax and breathe normally. Who would have known that the world's most dangerous men could soothe your soul? “Here, take small sips at a time.” The man with the diamond shaped scars said to you and handed you a small glass of water. Little by little, you were able to think straight without panic or anxiety. “So you can call us by our names and trust us - my name is Ran, this is my brother Rindou.” The tall male said. “The knucklehead you see over there with the pink hair is Sanzu and finally, in front of you, you have Kakucho.” Their introduction was not needed but worthy of making you feel a little at ease.

Kakucho released your hand and helped you get on your feet. “Please, get some rest - we need to be on time for tomorrow’s reading.” That's right, these men stated that everything your husband owned was theirs. The question slipped your tongue when you opened your mouth, “Will I be set free or sold tomorrow?” Ran stepped closer and cupped your bruised cheek, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “That's not for us to decide.” Depending on what Bonten's king says, he will ultimately determine your fate - even after his death, your husband is still finding ways to break you.

With your head hung low you made your way to your room. “Keep the door open, dollface.” Sanzu said as he sat on the Burrow couches and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. It made your eye twitch, your husband would have made you sit on the floor if that were you. Despite being at home, you had to be perfect, primed and ready for anything. To have such freedom and fearless nature, you envied it.

It was useless to try and protest keeping the door open. Walking into your bedroom, you began to lay out clean clothing - the day was long, you needed the comfort of warm water to relieve the ache in your ribs, the aches on your legs and arms. Once you had everything ready, you picked up your bathrobe and went to the bathroom - quietly closing the bathroom door. You took a long hard look at yourself in the mirror, analyzing the bruises on your face, the marks across your neck and the redness in your eyes, it was over. Your life was over before it even began. That freedom you were hoping to have was now dependent on someone else.

After filling the tub you began to slowly shed the clothing that clung to your figure. You had hairline fractures that were making it impossible to stay still during the funeral. The bruises extended down to your hips and thighs. Something no else would see. After showering you settle in the bathtub, gently laid back and stare at the ceiling and wonder if you should even continue to walk this earth…

Several minutes of staring into space, the door to your bathroom opens and in walks Kakucho. His calm demeanor was rather comforting - you were used to seeing your husband walk through that door with a scowl on his face or worse, a liquor bottle in his hands. “I’m not trying to drown myself if that’s what you’re thinking.” You say while slowly sitting up. You were surprised that they gave you this much privacy knowing that you could have called the cops or signal for help. Unfortunately, you didn’t trust the cops. That dearly beloved husband that departed this earth always had his way anytime you or someone else would call the cops. They would ask questions but your husband would pull them to the side and slip a small stack of bills in their pockets to keep them quiet. As soon as they would leave, he’d continue where he’d left off. Days would go by where you couldn’t even walk or let alone stand due to the pain.

“Please be ready by 8:00 tomorrow, the reading is at 10:00...” He says and hands you a towel. Guessing by how they are looming over you like this, they wanted to make sure you’d be able to attend tomorrow’s reading. He was about to walk away but you pulled his sleeve and stopped him. “I need help.” You spoke meekly and avoided his eyes, as much as you didn't want to ask - you needed his help. “Oh…I won't look.” He said, closing his eyes and turned the other way as he extended his arms for you to reach out and grab. Sucking in a deep breath you braced yourself for the next painful seconds of your life. Kakucho could hear you struggle and grunt as you were struggling to get up. It was exciting to him, but he refused to indulge. With his eyes still closed, he spoke - “Your face isn't the only thing bruised, is it?” Usually they don't pry into other people's affairs but this was different. Gathering information was his specialty, but your docile nature drew him in.

Kakucho felt compelled to at least leave you with something to take care of yourself with. Despite Bonten's reputation and crude nature there was still some sort of kindness in their subconscious. “My late husband would beat me almost everyday if something wasn't up to his standard.” You said while wrapping yourself in a bathrobe. Maybe, just maybe they'd have a little mercy on you if you tell them the truth. “Yet he wanted me to conceive a child…and he fucked me nonstop until I couldn't walk… “ Kakucho felt his hand twitch for a second, raising your hand at a woman - it made his blood boil. Even though Bonten was involved with prostitution, their merchandise would still be protected.

Your mother-in-law's declining health led to her asking you to bear her only son's child. It was a request made out of love. She loved you and adored you like her own daughter, yet she was completely blind to her son's true nature. Manipulative, cunning, aggressive and silver tongued - that's what he was. He tried to knock you up but had no luck. With a visit to the doctor, you'd come to find out about your infertility. This caused a maelstrom of emotions, you were glad yet heartbroken. Cursed to suffer alongside him and unable to conceive. After his mother's death the beatings worsened, the cheating began and so did the drinking.

“Did you miscarry?” Kakucho's question made you chuckle, making him open his eyes to face you. The sight in front of him was that of beauty and horror. The thin bathrobe left little to the imagination, the outline of your perky breasts made him blush. Your figure was gorgeous, your frame was perfect and your eyes almost had an ethereal glow to them. Yet the bruises on your body made him sick. How could someone do that to you? Was your love and devotion not enough for that sadistic son of a bitch? “Apparently I'm hollow…” Your hands caressed your belly as you spoke. Confusion was written all over his face. “I can't have children.” For someone who knows very little about you, he was ready to kill your husband but alas he was already dead. Someone beat him to it.

There was little to no emotion in your voice. You accepted your infertility and begged to be divorced but he refused to let you go. He refused to see you happy, let alone happy with another man. “I know it doesn't mean much now but I'm very sorry.” Kakucho says and breaks you out of the misery spiral. For the first time in your life since your mother-in-law's death - someone actually said something sincere to you. “Thank you. Who knew strangers could provide such comfort?” You say and head to your bedroom to get dressed. Something about you made him curious. What else were you forced to endure?

From the doorway you could see the other three males laying on the couches and nodding off to sleep. Looking back at Kakucho, you noticed his eyes never left you. There was warmth building up inside you, but the reality of it all loomed over you like a rain cloud. Yet, the urge to feel that warmth overpowered you. “Mind if I close the door?” There was a tinge of playfulness in your tone. You knew he would keep his eyes on you. He nodded and gently closed the door himself, he didn’t want to catch the attention of the others.

Shedding the bathrobe and letting it drop to the floor, you kept eye contact with him. You could hear him swallow thickly as his eyes began to wander around your naked figure. Kakucho just about groaned as your body was on full display. The bruises, scars and cuts drew him in like a moth to a flame. He began to walk towards you and closed the distance. Seeing how you could barely lift your arms or bend over, he helped you get dressed. There was tension but as much as he wanted to act on it, he couldn’t. You were too fragile to even touch.

Finally after helping you to bed, he stepped out of the room and left the door ajar. “I know that look…” The sound of Ran’s voice broke through the silence. Turning around, Kakucho saw that Rindou and Sanzu were asleep on the couch. Ran was sitting by the island and smirking at him. “We might need a little help tomorrow.” Kakucho says and makes a phone call. The remainder of the night was quiet, you slept peacefully for the first time in 3 years.

*the next morning*

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, it was gently tugging at you and waking you up. Mumbling, you turned to face Kakucho. He was standing next to your bed. “It’s time.” He says softly. Slowly sitting up you notice he was the only one with you. The others had left already, maybe they were making their way to the lawyers office…wait, what time was it? Grabbing your phone, you see that it’s 8:30 a.m.- you were late. Sensing your panic, Kakucho explained that they let you sleep in as the reading wasn’t until 10:00 a.m.

During the car ride, you stared out the window and wondered if you would live to see the next sunrise. “Did you tell your boss about that?” You asked him and broke the silence. Apparently there was more than just a simple helping hand last night. You laid your soul bare and told him some additional information that Bonten needed to be aware of. “It’s been taken care of.” He says and keeps his eyes on the road.

When you arrived, you made your way to the office and upon entering you saw it. Well to be exact, her. Your husband’s mistress and the wicked smirk she had on her face. She was clad in a skin tight black dress that accentuated her bust and belly, a large ‘fur’ coat, stilettos and was wearing bright red lipstick. It was a stark contrast compared to you. You were appropriately dressed like a widow, wearing black dress pants and a black blazer - it was to cover your bruises and also be comfortable during this shitty reading. You had neutral makeup on, just enough to hide the bruises and dark circles. “Well well…you showed up knowing that you ain’t getting shit. How bold of you (Y/N).” The mistress said while eyeing you up and down. Kakucho glared at her, after what you told him last night - he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

In walked the lawyer about 2 minutes later, he was a very short man with gray hair and thick glasses. He carried a serious look on his face and by the creases in his face, you can tell his scowl was permanent. Clearing his throat, the lawyer sat down and confirmed that the required party was present to begin. Before he could begin with the reading, the mistress interrupted him by saying something that made you ball up your fists. “Sorry, I need to run to the ladies room. Being pregnant and all, you just can’t hold your bladder.” Her faux apologetic tone was a jab at you and your infertility. Of course she knew, your husband made it known to every prostitute he slept with. How she managed to stick him, you weren’t sure but you no longer cared enough to harbor any jealousy towards their affair. The only thing that managed to hurt you or cause you anger was the fact that she always threw your infertility in your face. It was worse when she found out she was pregnant with his child. Constant bullying and teasing by them both ensued. She was currently 4 months pregnant.

When she returned, you kept your eyes focused on the lawyer and asked him to proceed. You couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. “Very well…we are gathered here today to read the final will and testament of (Husband’s Name). ‘To my wife, (Y/N), I leave to you only one thing, my mother’s wedding ring.’ To- ” The lawyer was interrupted by the loud cackle of the other woman, she was laughing and holding her sides. Ugh, you wanted nothing more than to rip her tongue out. Kakucho placed a hand on your shoulder and snapped you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry, oh that was too funny! Please go on.” She says and wipes tears from her eyes and calms herself.

The lawyer subtly rolls his eyes and proceeds. “As I was saying, ‘To (Mistress’s name), I leave to you all my assets and fortune as you carry our child and my bloodline.’...” Of course she was elated and smiling from ear to ear. Kakucho could see that she was only looking forward to the money and didn’t care that the man in quest had passed away. She was giggling and making a whole scene about how lucky she was and how the god’s blessed her. The lawyer kept reading the will and then the room went silent when the lawyer read the last line of your husband’s will. “In order for (Mistress) to claim any assets and fortunes, a paternity test will be required to prove that the child is the biological child of (husband’s name) no later than 1 month of the child’s birth. In the event that the child is not his, all assets and fortunes will go to his spouse, (Y/N).” As she is a floozy, you knew there was a 3% chance that it wasn’t his child. All eyes turned to look at her and her face was red. She was pissed. “How dare he question his own child?! I will prove it as soon as I am able to get the paternity test!” She yelled and huffed. To be honest, you just wanted to go home, you didn’t care who ended up with anything - Bonten was going to take it anyway.

Just then Kakucho’s cell phone rings, he lightly taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile before he steps out of the room. The mistress caught it all. Her fires simmered when she noticed the look of what she assumed was worry on your face. “Moving on so soon (Y/N)?” She says and it looked as if she was baring her fangs at you. Maybe she could try and take Kakucho from you too. You ignored her question and asked the lawyer what needed to be done in the meanwhile as the mistress was in her 2nd trimester. He explained that you will manage all assets and issue a monthly allowance until the child is born.

After 10 minutes, Kakucho walked back into the room and asked you not to contest the will. You figured that Bonten instructed him on how you needed to proceed. They will obtain the assets through the mistress, knowing them - it will be easier than dealing with you. You knew the ins and outs of the legal world so you may be able to contest in some sort of way. It was a little upsetting that you were being tossed aside but at the same time you were grateful that you didn’t have to continue suffering for your husbands fuck ups.

The lawyer presents you and the mistress a document, it was to confirm that you were present at the hearing and will not contest the will. You read over the information to make sure it was all accurate, once confirmed - you signed it and returned the documents to the lawyer. The mistress was so giddy and had a shit eating smirk on her face that it made the lawyer roll his eyes again. The poor man was not having it. Once everything was signed, his assistant came to collect the documents and was personally dropping off the documents to the courthouse for filing. Everything was to be expedited and they did not want to waste any time. “(Y/N), I guess I will come by before the end of the month and drop off my things. Since I will be moving into the house and all.” She says smugly and leaves the office. You wanted to punch her in the face but had to resist the urge to upset her as she is pregnant. It’s not the baby’s fault that their mother is a fucking bitch.

Standing up, you thanked the lawyer and headed out, leaving Kakucho behind. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that you forgot about him and just wanted to go home to pack up your things. You didn’t want to leave anything personal behind for that woman to enjoy. Once you were out of sight, Kakucho placed a document on the lawyer’s desk. He didn’t say a word and let the lawyer read it to himself first. The lawyer gasped and chuckled. “I expect you will arrange a meeting within the next 2 weeks, yes?” Kakucho said and the lawyer nodded. He exited the office and headed back to headquarters.

The next few days were a blur, you were trying to figure out what to do with your personal belongings and searching for a new place to live. Even if your husband would have left you the penthouse - you didn’t want it. There were too many bitter memories in this hellhole. Lucky for you that you set aside money for yourself and weren’t fully dependent on your husband, you were able to afford living comfortably by yourself. With some of your injuries healed or at least not as bothersome, you were able to move around a little better. It allowed you to pack and put things in storage. Luckily, Kakucho came by everyday to help you. He was extremely kind and believe it or not a great cook. In the midst of all the chaos in your life, he was slowly becoming your rock.

There were innocent gestures that made your heart skip a beat. As much as you tried not to get attached to another man, it was hard when the man in question was treating you like an actual human and not a punching bag.

By the end of week 2, you received a call from your husband’s lawyer - he stated that you and the mistress needed to come back down to his office for a final reading and to confirm that the paperwork was accurately filed. You asked if this was something that could be confirmed over the phone but he said no. “It is in your best interest to attend, you also need to sign an additional statement.” Great… You didn't want to see the mistress and her smug face. It was rather short notice, you had to attend tomorrow evening. Ending the call you prepared to let Kakucho know. Either way Bonten was bound to know about this right? Regardless, it was no longer your concern as the mistress would be taking hold of all your husband’s assets.

A hard knock on your front door spooked you and you thought it was going to be none other than her as she promised to stop by. Huffing in annoyance you walk over and open the door but were caught off guard by the gentleman that stood in there. “(Y/N).” Kakucho was standing in the doorway and made a chill run down your spine. The timing was too perfect. Were they wire tapping your home? You wouldn’t be surprised. “You’re still packing?” His calm demeanor was rather soothing and welcome. Opening the door wider you let him in. “I have to.” You smile softly.

He noticed that you were packing other things that were rather questionable and gave you an odd look. You chuckle. Kakucho was taken aback at how sweet your laugh was. He realized how much you changed, it was like night and day. On day one, you were broken and quiet - almost frail and had given up on life. Today, you are warm and vibrant. Was this the same woman?

Throughout the day you were drinking wine and offered him some, at first he refused as he was technically on the job but you somehow got him to accept. Now you were down to the third wine bottle. Getting to know your executioner was rather endearing. Aside from Bonten being what it is, their members weren’t as bad as they seemed - well for now anyways. With the previous visit leaving a bit of tension behind, the wine was giving you the edge you needed to get closer. Who knows, this might be the last time you could sleep with someone of your choosing. Bonten might end up selling you or leaving you penniless.

“So, why do you do this?” You ask and lean your head back on the couch. You both were sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. There were multiple boxes, papers, momentos and wine bottles scattered about. Kakucho picked up a photo and looked at it, exhaling as he pointed at your husband in the photograph- “To keep people like him in check.” There were various things that came to light after you asked Kakucho to elaborate. Backroom deals, gambling, fraud, prostitution and of course murder - they were all dealt with by Boten. Your husband ended up joining them as a partner after trying to move into their territory. Some things were a little familiar to you but there were other unsavory things that hit you like a truck. It made you sick. Your husband owed them money amongst other things.

All this wealth was obtained by walking on other people’s corpses. Your husband not only destroyed you but he also destroyed others. It was naive of you to think that you were the only one who was taking in his wrath. Sensing your disquiet, Kakucho opted to change the subject. “You will be set free, (Y/N).” He says softly. Turning to look at him, you noticed his eyes were glossed over - oh that innocent look on his face… It made you want to devour him. “You know you shouldn’t promise things like that.” You say coyly. You were just teasing but at the same time you meant what you said.

Taking a chance and letting the liquid courage take over, you leaned over and pressed your forehead against his. The unsteady breathing and sweet scent of alcohol only drew you in. “What are we doing?” He whispers and almost pouts when you bite your lip. “I want you to make me feel like a woman again.” You almost whimper your reply and place your hand on his chest. Oh you just made Bonten’s number 3 head spin. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours - hungrily devouring every breath and whimper. For once, you were enjoying getting kissed, you were enjoying the taste of alcohol on someone else’s lips and you were sinking into bliss.

You felt your heart racing, it was racing out of excitement rather than fear. His hands began to travel along your body and touched places that you never thought would make your heart skip a beat. The more heated the kiss got, the more you wanted him to lay you down already - you were desperate.

Feeling bolder, you moved your hands south and felt the bulge that was throbbing. You breath almost caught in your throat - he felt bigger than anything you’ve ever had before, larger than your now dead husband. Wasting no time, you made haste and unbuckled his belt, you were leading. Throbbing in your hands was Kakucho’s member, oh the gods gifted him with more than just a menacing look. Leaning back away from him you took in the sight in front of you. Heavy panting, chest heaving, glossy eyes and parted lips - he was beyond handsome. You paused a little too long before you were snapped out of your daydream.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this are you?” He pants and moves your hand in a stroking motion, sending a jolt of electricity down his shaft. Oh how he was making your brain turn into mush. Continuing your motions, you felt your core aching and in desperate need of attention. Running your thumb over his leaking slit, you felt his hips jerk and he let out the sweetest moan. “Kakucho…” You say coyly and put a little more pressure around his length. He moans a response and gazes at you. His mind was also melting and on the verge of turning into mush. “Can I…taste you?” You ask while leaning in and give his tip a kitten lick that makes his eyes roll back. He chuckles and gives you permission to devour him.

Taking him in your mouth, you taste his sweet essence and bob your head slowly up and down. Focusing on his tip, your tongue swirls around the head and he feels his vision getting hazy. He was a lot to take in, with the tip hitting the back of your throat, you had a feeling he was going to tear you apart later. To him it felt like sweet torture, you were giving him affection - something that he hasn’t felt in a long time and yet you were going so slow with your movements that he wanted nothing more than to thrust his hips up to make you gag. Hearing those husky moans and his breath hitch made your folds begin to stick to the fabric of your panties. Pleasing him like this only made butterflies run rampant in your stomach.

Releasing his member from your mouth, you took a long lick from the base of his cock up to his flushed tip. You continued to take his length further into your mouth but not too deep, you wanted to keep him on edge and make him whine a little longer. Your jaw was getting sore but you wanted to keep going.

Kakucho placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down further. It made you gag a little but you welcomed his actions. They were gentle, unlike your husband - he would force your head down until you couldn’t breathe properly or until you threw up. He would leave your throat and jaw sore for days and wouldn’t care if you could barely eat the next day. Moving your hand to his length, you start to pump his cock while sucking and it sends him into overdrive. “Ngh…(Y/N), wait! Shit, you’re gonna make me cum…” He moans and tries to pull you off but fails. You were determined to swallow his seed.

The vibrations of your moans travel down his cock and into his core. Kakucho was getting lost in heaven. The very woman who Bonten was going to take everything from was on her knees and pleasing him. Your pace began to quicken as you felt his length twitch and the vein along his shaft pulsed. His coil was so tightly wound that the moment he felt it snap, his eyes rolled back into his skull and that numbing sensation made his toes curl. Hearing him come undone was bliss, to know that you could make a man like him melt and make him whimper - it did wonders to your ego. Your husband would always say that you were good for nothing, that you would never be able to satisfy a man and yet here you are with one of the country’s most dangerous men. You were giving him the blowjob of a lifetime.

Swallowing his thick seed, you made sure to not waste a single drop and continued to suck his sensitive tip even after he emptied himself inside your mouth. “Stop…oh fuck!” Kakucho whines and pulls your hair. Releasing his member with a pop, you smile and slowly stroke him - making his hips twitch and his whimpers louder. Nothing in the world could compare to this feeling. You felt validated and worthy of satisfying another man, you felt like a woman for the first time in years. Your husband only ever made you feel like a toy, almost as if your sole purpose in life was for him to break you. He would treat you less like a woman and even less as a human being.

Catching his breath, Kakucho remained seated on the floor - dazed and determined on what to do to you. “Get up…” He pants and pulls you up. That tone of voice was quite authoritative. You obey and get on your feet. He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. “Strip…” His low tone made a chill run down your spine and you removed your clothing. He too started to remove all his clothing. When he saw that you left your undergarments on, he paused. “Everything, (Y/N).” He demanded and layed down on your bed. Feeling the cool air hit your skin, you shivered and he noticed. “Come here.” He says warmly, he was trying to reassure you.

Seeing him in all his glory…oh how your cunt clenched instinctively. His defined muscles, the veins on his arms - it made you almost drool. Even the scar on his chest that appeared to be a bullet hole had your slick dripping. Climbing on the bed, you take place next to him and run your hands along his body. The slow and gentle touches made his member twitch. Even in its flaccid state, it still twitched and looked big. He rolled you on top of him and slid his arms underneath your thighs. The confused look on your face made him chuckle. He lifts you by your thighs and slides you up towards his face. The movement was so sudden that it made you squeak in surprise. Looking down at him, his pupils were blown as he had your pretty cunt in his face.

“Wait…I-ngh!” You moaned out loud as he pushed your hips down and buried his face in your honeypot. He was sucking on your bundle of nerves and wasted no time in making you scream his name. Your hands quickly found solace by holding on to the headboard and your forehead was leaning against the wall. Whoever was lucky enough to be on the other side of that wall could hear you moan like a whore in heat. Kakucho snaked his hand between your thighs and slid two thick digits inside your tight walls. Pumping them in and out while sucking on your clit had your eyes rolling back and your hips grinding into his face. Hearing him slightly struggle underneath you only made your coil tighten.

Such lewd and wet sounds echoed in the room along with your wanton moans. “Ahn…Ahn…Kakucho! It feels s’good!” You mewl and run your hands along your chest, pinching and teasing your nipples. The electricity coursing through your veins had you in a daze. Not even your husband ever bothered to eat you out before - Kakucho’s gift to you was more than anything your husband could have offered you. He curled his fingers to find your trigger, when he found it your legs were beginning to shake and your hips were stuttering. Your pitch got higher and higher as you neared total bliss.

That unmistakable tingle that ran down your spine made you throw your head back and total ecstasy as your orgasm was ripped out of you. Kakucho didn’t stop, he kept going - he wasn’t satisfied with just one. “Ngh, s’too much!” You whine and try lifting your hips away from his face. However, the iron grip that he had on your waist made it impossible for you to escape. “Mhn…one more, just one more…” He pants from between your legs. The sound of your sweet voice kept him spellbound. He wanted to keep hearing you cry out for him.

Your overly sensitive bundle of nerves was throbbing from the continuous stimulation. He moved lower and shoved his tongue inside your tight cavern. Kakucho wanted to taste everything, his warm and wet muscle felt like heaven. With your walls fluttering you thought you were going to lose it again. “Stop! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You whine pathetically, begging him to stop knowing full well that you didn’t want him to. The final push was him tracing circles on your clit with enough pressure to make your vision go white.

Kakucho made you gush and he took it all. The obscene sounds of him slurping up your honey echoed in the room. Your whole body was shaking from the intense orgasm that you felt almost light headed. Slowly, he slid your body down and made you collapse into his chest. The energy was drained from you, barely being able to move or respond when he asked if you were ok. Only a small hum could be heard from you. Wrapping his arms around you, he placed a kiss on your head and whispered. “We’re not done yet. You wanted to feel like a woman? I’ll keep showing you…” His low tone made you smile softly and bury your face into his chest.

The rest of the night became a blur. By the time morning came you were left disheveled, sore and satisfied. Kakucho meant what he said. All night he made you moan, scream, cum and cry out in pure bliss. He stuffed you full of his cum to the point where the sheets were beyond saving. His aftercare was even better, got you water and some light snacks for you to nibble on - even medicine for your throat. To think that this was one of the most feared men in all of Japan, last night he was more than that to you. Rolling over, you see Kakucho sleeping next to you. He looked so peaceful and innocent despite the prominent scar on his face. Seeing his chest rise and fall softly, you take a better look at the tattoo on his chest - it looks like all the higher ups have this. You recalled the man with the feline like eyes and the placement of his tattoo on his temple. The two Haitani brothers and their neck tattoos. Also, their leader - the man with the empty eyes and white hair, he had his on the nape. It would be a tattoo that you’d need to familiarize yourself with.

Kakucho stirred in his sleep and woke up with you kissing his cheek. “Good morning…” You say softly and ask him if he’s hungry. You both opted to get up and shower…together, it ended up in another round of sex that led to skipping breakfast and diving straight into lunch. Offering him a change of clothes, he accepted - besides, the clothes were brand new and never worn. No need to worry about the mistress recognizing it and accusing you of theft of ‘her things’.

Arriving at the lawyers office, you see that the mistress was already there. She was smiling smugly from ear to ear. When she noticed you with Kakucho, her smile faded ever so slightly - jealous that he was still with you. “So quick to move on…what a shame (Y/N). Looks like you truly don’t deserve any of (H/N)’s fortune.” You paid her no mind, you just had the best night and morning of your life. “I feel bad for you when you give birth, that baby’s gonna have a big ass head just like the mother and father…you might just tear (M/N). You might never be able to please a man again.” You say without thinking. The sudden fire in you made Kakucho almost burst out laughing. Quite the insult to a pregnant woman, she of course gasped and huffed defending her unborn baby’s head size. The poised woman was gone, you no longer had to keep appearances nor bite your tongue.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the room fall silent. He took a seat at this desk and went over the original will one last time before making you and the mistress review the already signed and filed documents. Both parties agreed that everything was in place. The mistress couldn’t help but keep chuckling to herself as she repeated words loud enough for you to hear. “...to my wife, I leave nothing.” It was annoying but you didn’t let her get to you - you wanted to come back home and have dinner with Kakucho.

“Now that both parties confirmed, please note that there is a new document that was received after the filing that affects this arrangement and cannot be disputed.” He says and narrows his eyes. For a moment you felt your stomach flip - what the hell was he talking about? Did the wench take an early paternity test? It’s not like it mattered, you knew you were going to vacate the home and keep your mother-in-law’s ring. That much was certain. Acknowledging the lawyer's words, you asked him to elaborate and explain what the real reason was for you both to be here. He nodded and began to read out loud the document in his hands:

“From the University of Tokyo Hospital, below is the information requested by (Husband’s full name) on (11 Nov YYYY) and (12 Dec YYYY). The original tests and new tests administered resulted in the following:

Spermatozoa count - below 2 million per mil.

Sperm motility - below 20%

Sperm viscosity - high

Sperm morphology - abnormal

Unfortunately, both labs have confirmed that the patient is infertile. With the severe lack of sperm motility and spermatozoa count - treatment is not possible.”

Everything in the room went dead silent. You felt faint and nauseous, was this actually true? The sudden screech of the mistress startled you and she came charging at the lawyer’s desk to snatch the paper out of his hands. She was beet red and almost foaming at the mouth. Reading the document in hand she crushed the edges that she was holding and her hands were shaking. “This…this can’t be! It has to be fake!” She screams and looks at Kakucho who was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “You probably faked this document to get in on your whore’s money!” She spits and rips the paper to shreds. The lawyer simply sighs and asks you to sign the document confirming that you were present at this hearing. Apparently your late husband amended his will one month prior to his death. When he received the first results in November he contacted his lawyer to insert a new clause. Originally he wasn’t going to leave you anything, however, due to him sleeping around not getting anyone pregnant - he grew suspicious.

With the mistress screaming like a banshee and almost attacking the lawyer, security was called to have her escorted out. The lawyer was quick to have you and Kakucho sign as a witness to all this. “Ms. (L/N), congratulations - you have all your husband’s assets and fortune. Please rest assured that the mistress will not be able to contest.” He said softly and smiled. His smile was warm, it’s as if he knew this was going to happen. How long was this information in his hands? Wait, is this why Kakucho said for you not to contest the will?

The lawyer excused himself and left the office for you to have a moment to yourself. The room was spinning and thought you were going to die. It wasn’t just the shock from the hospital results but the fact that your husband abused you and beat you non stop for being infertile when in reality he was the one shooting blanks the entire time. You began to laugh to yourself, slowly building up to a cry that made you drop to your knees. It was painful. Recalling all the times he called you hollow or less of a woman when your pregnancy tests would come out negative - it broke your heart. You were both the problem, the blame shouldn’t have been just placed on you.

“(Y/N), there is something else I need to tell you. We did some digging and whoever was in charge of getting your fertility results a few years back royally fucked up which rendered your tests inconclusive and marked as infertile by mistake. You can have children.” Kakucho says softly and helps you stand back up. A second wave of emotions hit you and panic soon followed. You were fucking him raw yesterday and this morning like a rabbit in heat. “Kakucho…how long have you known for?!” You ask him and shove him. There was a slight pained expression on his face, he should have told you sooner. “That medicine I gave you this morning was a morning after pill. (Y/N), I’m sorry, I let myself get carried away.” At least he was honest. Last night he snuck out of your apartment to purchase the pill and would pass it off as ibuprofen or something since you were saying your throat was sore. Though he wasn’t expecting to sleep with you again in the morning he explained that he would take responsibility if the contraceptive fails. Whatever your decision would be, he will respect it and will do what he can. He made sure to explain this to you and managed to pull you in. Crying in his arms, he embraced you and did his best to calm you down.

“You didn’t sleep with me just for my husband’s assets, did you?” You ask a little broken hearted. The night you spent with him meant more to you than just sex. It was you liberating yourself once and for all from your husband. You didn’t expect to feel something more for Kakucho. Maybe it was the fact that he made you feel validated and praised you like a goddess, but it felt real. “The assets have nothing to do with what we did last night or this morning.” He assured you.

*4 months later*

You signed off on all documents that allowed you to transfer or ‘donate’ your husband’s assets to Bonten. The head of the organization, Sano Manjiro, handed over a legal sized envelope with your name on it to you. He said nothing and walked away. “W-wait, what is this?” You ask him and he waves you off without responding. Opening the envelope you read over the information and gasp. Though you handed over everything to Bonten, they gave you something in return. Manjiro was kind enough to leave you something that the three of you could enjoy. Kakucho leaned over and placed a peck on your head. “You know, he is kind of excited to be an uncle...”

END.

TAGS: @anxious-chick

239 notes · View notes

creamytinydays · 7 months ago

Text

The Crush: Spiderman x Everlark - Chapter 7 Sneak Peek

Summary: Mild-mannered student by day, famed thief-turned-hero the Black Cat by night, Katniss Everdeen is juggling taking care of her sister and protecting New York City all while not trying to fail Criminology 101. If that weren’t complicated enough, she’s got a crush on two guys - Spiderman, and the cute nerd she sits next to her in class. What’s a girl to do?

Unbeta’d.

Rated Teen

Tagging some wonderful readers in case they want to take a sneak peek at the last Chapter, which will be posted by Tuesday, April 23! Thank you all SO MUCH for reading <3

@iamareader-01-blog @purpleblueberries @daydreamsandcaffeine @honeylime08

kpkpkpkp

The next week is absolutely miserable. I’ve been subsisting on a diet of ramen, ice cream, and reality TV. I tried to shake off my mood by polishing all of the diamonds in my vault, but I barely got halfway through before I gave up. My heart just wasn’t in it.

The only time I see Peeta all week is during Criminology 101, a few days after the break-up. He sits as far as humanly possible away from me in the cavernous lecture hall, his shoulders slumped, as he mindlessly taps a pencil on the desk. I keep my eyes averted, but when I do summon the courage to look, he’s staring out the window.

I faithfully continue patrolling every night, hoping flirting with Spidey will do me some good. After all, now that Peeta and I are over, I can flirt with Spidey totally guilt-free.

Which would be great, except I can’t find him.

Spider-Man isn’t patrolling by his favorite pizza shop in Midtown, or hanging upside down from the Brooklyn Bridge. He isn’t on top of the Empire State Building, which I had to check by taking the elevator while in costume with some very confused tourists.

Spidey’s never disappeared like this. Sure, we don’t patrol every night, but this is completely new, and worrying. What if he’s in trouble?

I double my efforts, searching the city, and even calling Poison Ivy to see if her underground network has any leads, but there’s nothing. No chatter about his whereabouts, no sightings posted on the message boards. So a week passes, and I’m very close to freaking out and calling hospitals and morgues, when one day I’m prowling the top of the Flatiron building and Spidey lands softly beside me, cool as a cucumber.

“Hey Cat.”

“What the hell!” I try to punch him in the shoulder, but he dodges. Damn those Spidey reflexes. “Where have you been?”

“Around.”

“Oh, come on. You left me!”

He sighs. “It’s been a shitty week.”

“Yeah? You and me, both. It would’ve been better if I’d at least known where you were! I thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere!”

“Aw, I had no idea you cared about me so much,” he says, but there’s nothing flirtatious or playful about his tone.

I narrow my eyes.

“Go AWOL like that again and I’m going straight back to Tiffany’s, the hero life be damned-”

“I needed space from you, OK?” he exclaims. “I’m allowed to be upset!“

I’m so confused that I don’t even know what to say. I card my fingers through the platinum strands of my wig. I’m running through various theories such as Spider-Man has been abducted and replaced with an alternate dimension Spider-Man, or maybe he’s just lost his mind in general, but before I can figure it out, Spidey has tackled me to the floor.

“Stay down,” he says, but it’s too late. There’s a metallic whirring sound above us, way too close, and I realize why Spidey knocked me to the roof. We both attempt to scramble out of the way, but sharp metal talons seize me around the ribs, gripping so tightly I’m fighting to breathe.

“Well, well, well,” says the Vulture.

kpkpkp

#thg #the hunger games #fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #katniss #peeta #everlark fanfiction #everlark #fandom #ao3 #archive of our own #chapter 7 #the crush #spider-man #the black cat #marvel #creamytinydays

22 notes · View notes

villafordefeatedvillains · 1 year ago

Note

i have. a lot of songs i associate with heisenberg. i have a whole playlist in fact. but the top one is vulture culture by fangclub! lyrics plus ridiculously long analysis: Temper, temper, tell us your name Can I be part of the problem or part of the blame? So self-centered, never in vain Can I be king of the castle if I'm out of the gate? Like a noose around your neck Got a guilty conscience (heisenberg is like. taunting ethan but mocking miranda in the same breath. he wants to impress ethan, because he KNOWS how ethan is one tough sonuvabitch. he wants his help to get rid of mirander, but he doesn't want to like. admit it. he's also like, showing off his factory, gloating about his metal army, trying to hype himself up so that ethan CANT say no to his deal because to say no would be a Bad Idea. he KNOWS ethan's killed the other lords and by god he does not wanna be added to the killcount)

We live and die in a vulture culture We crucify anyone we hunger Gemini and a broken brother We live and die, my friend (heisenberg reflecting on the village, trying to explain to ethan that Hey. This Shit Is Bad For Both Of Us. if i fail to kill you, i die, if you kill me, you've outlived your usefulness to miranda, we should work together and Not Die.) Tremor, tremor celebrity cult Opinions taste better with a pillar of salt (he's getting pissed now, ethan rejected him and now he's fuming mad. he knows he could die but he'll put on the cocky overconfident facade he wears so damn well)

Well, I guess I made my bed Now I gotta lie in it Like a suicidal kiss I got a guilty conscience (he's dying as a mass of rusted metal and twisted flesh, calcifying right before his eyes, his factory's been blown up, he can probably see mirander ripping ethan's heart out from the corner of his eye. his last dying thoughts are "man, i fucked the hell up. i shouldn't have said that thing about using his baby as a weapon. she's gonna win now and it's My Fault.")

thanks leon for asking about my opinions on these freaks this has been analysis hour with protonpacks (feel free to send more if you want wink wink)

♫ how many characters can i add to this. oh well either pick one or so all of them or do just a couple do whatever you want >:3

wheatley, glados, ethan, and heisenberg. Because im so normal about these games

ALL OF THEM TIME wheatley: ok i associate him w/ blue lips by regina spektor, but also below the surface by griffinilla! blue lips lyrics:

They started off beneath the knowledge tree And they chopped it down to make white picket fences And they're marching along the railroad tracks They smiled real wide for the camera lens As they made it past the enemy line Just to become enslaved in the assembly lines (wheatley trying to be better than glados but falling into the trap of the solution euphoria and his own hubris)

Blue lips, blue veins Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away Blue lips, blue veins Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away (this one is. obvious.) and below the surface:

Listen close Follow my instructions There is no Time for introductions (good ol wheatie boy never really even says his own name until he goes evil)

His voice means to deceive you My voice just wants to lead you (glados about wheatley and vice versa)

There's no one left to find you I'll take your place inside you (oh. you know)

I'll take your place behind the mask Then I'll be first and you'll be last Yeah, you'll be last (oh. you know part 2!!!) the rest of em will be done in the reblogs!

#long post #resort rambles

11 notes · View notes

spenciegoob · 4 years ago

Text

Cracked Mirror

A/N: hi, I continued to see a bunch of “season 2 Spencer would be so scared of season 12 Spencer, so I decided why not write them meeting? let’s do it, baby super angsty :P it took everything in me to not tag ‘how it should’ve gone’ but basically this is ‘how it should've gone.’

Summary: Spencer Reid? Meet a very much older Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Season 15 Spencer & Season 2 Spencer

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: no ship, mentions of drug addiction, drug abuse, Tobias Hankel, Maeve, mentions of Jeid

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

_____

Spencer 15:

The smell was always the first thing I noticed when I woke up from a restless sleep. It meant I was alive, that the terrors that danced across my eyelids like a ballad of the doomed were not real. I never believed in the Higher Power, but if there was an Evil Spirit, it possessed my mind the second my guard fluctuated.

The smell, however, the one made up of stiff air that paralyzed you and blood you weren’t sure was yours, that smell meant I got to live another day.

It also meant I could still die.

But now I woke up in a startle because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I escaped this place before, I made it out. Did my only indicator of life just turn into my own personal Hell? Was I finally gone, seconds ago hoping for rest only to come to the conclusion that I would never get the chance?

I was back in a gray jumpsuit, and what scared me the most was how quickly I got up to make my bed.

“Reid, you have a visitor.”

Spencer 2:

They say every person in their career has a moment that changes the way they view their job forever, and I would’ve liked to continue to believe I had mine already, when I put away the first unsub that didn’t deserve the life they were unfortunately gifted to live out. I know I couldn’t sleep much after.

But now that I hurry past empty cells and recreation rooms on my way to a stone box with a killer, I changed my mind.

This was my moment.

I had to keep up with Hotch, and I wish it was because I was scared of getting lost, but it wasn't. If I lose Hotch, I’m afraid I’ll lose my life.

We just had to reach the interrogation room, and we’ll be fine. We just have to talk to... to who?

Who are we here to see? Why am I here?

“Hotch.” The older man stopped his fast pace to turn to me exasperated. I would have that expression too if someone stopped me in a place like this, but here I am, feet stuck to ground like a fear-inducing glue because I can’t remember why I’m here.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

“Why am I here?” Hotch didn’t get angry, or confused at my question. Instead, Hotch’s face turned into something that was a prized rarity at other times, but right now, it ran my blood cold.

He nodded at me, his face visibly relaxing with understanding, and kindness spreading from his eyes into mine.

“You have someone here you need to see.”

And then he just continued the path we were on until we reached a metal door with a window not large enough to see who was waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t get too close, giving myself a 5 foot head start in case I needed to run, but Hotch would never put me in a position like that, right?

He would never use me as a pawn in a game of life or death.

“Whenever you’re ready.” By the time all the questions flooded through my head like a tsunami that made it to the tip of my tongue, Hotch was gone.

The invisible magnetic field between myself and the door was a force backed up by science. I felt the way it tugged me forward, like negative and positive electrons charming me with the song of the buzzer unlocking it.

When I was ready, he said. Would I ever be ready for the feeling that washed over me? I felt the weight of the world rest on my shoulders, stuck in an ocean made entirely of resin, slowly hardening around me to keep me trapped.

But I still grasped the cool metal doorknob, and I wish I took a deep breath before entering. It was the wrong call on my part, because I walked in and all the oxygen left my lungs in a flash.

The air in the room felt different. It hung with the purpose of imprisoning those who dare breathe it into their lungs. Enchantment and intoxication were meant to hold beauty and grace, leading the charmed to a fulfillment in life worth living.

But the eyes of Medusa were in the room with me, and I was stupid enough to turn to stone.

“Who are you?” How could I ask that? I knew the answer by looking into his eyes. I say his, because they weren’t mine. Sure, they had the same hazel color, and the same round, boyish shape, but they looked so dull. Sadness, the kind that moves mountains and starts wars, was buried deep in the beholder, casting a shadow over his soul.

I didn’t stare for very long. I couldn’t.

“You know who I am.” His voice was worse. “I know why I’m here. Sit down.”

“I- I just... Absolutely not! This is- this, I- I can’t. I have to get out of here.” Insanity! It had to be. I was staring at a person I didn’t know, yet knew every little detail about, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Sit down before you panic.” There was no point in lying and saying I was fine, he knew it would be a lie. We weren’t just profilers.

So I sat, taking my time to round the table and pull the chair farther back to establish a far enough distance between us. He did the same. Of course he did.

“Answer my question,” I whispered, looking down at the place where the leg of the table met the top.

“There are far better questions to ask me.” He was right, there were more pressing matters at hand, but how do you ask someone what landed them in a jumpsuit when you were terrified of the answer?

“Did- is time travel a thing?” The second the question left my mouth, I realized how absurd it was, but so was staring into the cracked funhouse mirror I was currently stuck in front of.

“Come on, we don’t have much time, and that’s what you want to ask me? Dig deeper.” Is this how Morgan feels when I’m always right?

How could I dig deeper when it all went so far that the only thing consuming my soul was a bottomless black hole? The memories flashing from projectors all around me as I sank further until eventually my oxygen ran out. Going deeper meant letting the weight of my heart push against my chest like a rock thrown into the depths of the ocean, but I suppose he would follow me.

“What happened?” I looked up to see him take a deep breath, leaning back in the chair with careful contemplation. There was something more though, something that lingered the second we met eyes.

Jealousy. There was nothing of myself to be jealous about, however.

“We made too many mistakes.” We. Only one of us was in the jumpsuit. There had to be some way to avoid that, right?

“God, this is insane!” I promptly shouted, standing up frantically. “You’re the prisoner here, not me, okay? I didn’t do anything. You did. How am I even here? What is happening, I don’t understand.” At the end of my yelling, I was so far out of breath that I had to lean against the wall. “What is this?”

“Tobias Hankel.” No no no, it can’t be. Am I dead?

“Sit down.” I listened immediately this time, too exasperated to care about being cautious about it.

“You’re with him right now, and from what I can tell, you’re probably in a drug-induced dream.” My head shot up at the mention of Tobias’s coping mechanism for myself. “When you wake up, I don’t expect you to hold onto hope, but for that quick second you let go, don’t feel guilty about it. It will eat you alive if you do.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m right, and you need to listen to everything I’m telling you.” I was never one to make demands like this.

“And if I do? Will it stop me from becoming you?”

“No, probably not.” Before I had the chance to get angry again, I watched the way his eyes started to glisten with tears. I watched him crack a little bit more, adding to the already gaping slashes across his heart. How many more until he breaks?

“Leave them in his pocket,” he continued after taking a grounding deep breath. “You don’t need it.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretly, I knew what he was meant, because after this nightmare ended I would be back in a far worse one silently begging to return to this interrogation room.

There were so many thoughts running through my head that it was hard to focus on just one. Plus, I wasn’t really getting any context here.

“I don’t think I can give you many details. I don’t even know if we’ll remember this, or how I got here, but we don’t have much time. There are so many things you need to know.”

“I know practically everything.”

“No you don’t, kid. You know nothing.” He suddenly stood up, walking over to the wall on our left, leaning a hand against it and hanging his head. “When you feel like something is wrong with him, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell Hotch, request time off, do whatever you have to do. Just, go visit him.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know.” There was so much guilt in his voice that I felt it in my chest. It was like a hole was drilled into me, leaving my heart exposed to vultures who wouldn’t hesitate to rip pieces from me.

“What about my mom? Do I... you know?”

“No, you don’t, but promise me something.” He turned to look at me again, hazel meeting hazel. “On days that she’s lucid, tell her everything. Tell her what you ate for breakfast, and that one time Morgan fell trying to kick a door open. Tell her about the dark parts, about how much you love her. Tell her everything.”

“Oh God is she-”

“No. I don’t think I should be telling you that, but no. Don’t think like that.” As if remembering something, he rushed back over to sit down, pulling his chair in and leaning over the table. “Stop running every negative outcome of every situation in your head. Be careful, but don’t be so careful it becomes reckless. That’s how people get hurt, including you.”

“Is that what happened to you? Is that how you ended up here?”

“No. I’m innocent, always was. I ended up in here because I let myself get blinded by a fantasy I had no business dreaming about. There’s going to be times for you to have dreams bigger than yourself, but the second they start to become nightmares, you have to pull yourself back. Don’t get trapped, kid.”

“You know, Morgan calls me ‘kid’. I don’t really know if I like it or not.”

“You’ll come to love it, but with Morgan, don’t push him away. He’s one of the only few people in this world that won’t scrutinize or judge you, and you need to be honest with him.”

“Why?” After asking, I immediately regretted it, because his answer was the one I’ve been dreading the most.

“Because things are going to hurt you, and it’s okay to ask for help every once in a while.”

“What things? Tell me,” I begged, rushing my words and internally cringing at how desperate I sound, but I needed to know. I needed to know the truth.

“When you fall in love, tell her.” He casted his eyes downward, staring at his hands rough and calloused from the years, kind of like Hotch.

“Is it... is it JJ?”

“No,” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head softly. “You’ll learn one day the difference between being in love with someone, and just simply loving them.”

I couldn’t help the disappointment spread through me for a second, but I quickly gained my composure when I remembered I’m sitting across a profiler.

“This is too much.” My brain was starting to hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” A question crossed my mind causing my hands to stop their fidgeting for just a moment, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and my hands resumed. He caught it though. Of course he did.

“What was that thought?”

“My d-” I cleared my throat before continuing. “William. Did he ever...?” I let the words fade out, hoping that he would understand where I was going. He did. Of course he did.

“No.” He took a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching tightly. “He didn’t.”

“Oh.” While I was disappointed, he looked angry. As sick and twisted as it was, I wish I was more like him. Even with the despairing look in his eyes that came with agonizing memories, he was the man everyone expected me to be.

He looked at me as if he also wished the roles were reversed. Of course he did.

The edges of the room slowly started to get fuzzy, my vision blurring for a second. “You’re waking up.”

“Can- can I ask you something?” Even though I was terrified of the answer.

“Of course.”

“When did it all go wrong?” He let out a long sigh before running his hands down his face.

“I can’t tell you the exact moment, because even I’m not sure. I can tell you that even when it doesn’t feel like it, you’re alive. You survived, and on some days that’s all that’s going to matter.”

“Do you smell that?” Please say yes, because the smell of burning fish hearts and livers was burning my nostrils and clouding my head.

“Wake up, Spencer. It’s okay.”

“Wait!”

Spencer 15:

My eyes shot open only to be met with blinding lights that seared my pupils. The beeping coming from the machine next to me was the second thing I noticed, and the third was a very alarmed Penelope.

“What happened?” My voice was raspy, and my throat burned intensely.

“You don’t remember? Spencer, you collapsed.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Logically, I knew I probably sustained a head injury from the explosion, but when I tried to think beyond that, my brain got fuzzy.

“Are you okay? You know, besides the whole passing out thing?”

“Y-yeah, I just.” I stopped talking. Just what? Penelope hummed curiously for me to continue, but I couldn’t.

“I think I got a second chance.” No matter how vague it was, how little she knew of what that truly meant, Penelope beamed with joy at my answer, and I smiled right back.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” And when she left, I stared up at the ceiling, hoping that the scared kid I used to be took my advice.

____

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @missyoumaybank @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no @muffin-cup

214 notes · View notes

milstrim · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 6: That I Would Be Good

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

When Peter woke up, it was horribly bright. His eyes opened a sliver only to be immediately squeezed shut with a groan, a sensory overload surely on its way as the harsh yellow light broke through even his tightly shut eyes. He could already feel the migraine, but the teenager pushed it down as the memories of what had happened flooded back.

The ferry. Mr. Stark. The suit. The men in the alley. And then...darkness. And now wherever he was right now he guessed. After a few moments, Peter managed to crack his eyes open again, surprised a little by the room he was in, not that he'd expected much to be honest.

Peter himself was chained to a pillar, his arms cuffed around it uncomfortably while metal ropes twisted around him at least five times over. His entire body was stiff, leaving him to think he'd been stuck in this position for at least a few hours. What time was it? Had anyone noticed he was missing? Peter blinked emptily, very much doubting it. Nobody at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys would be expecting him home until late, and it wasn't like Mr. Stark was going to be looking for him.

The teenager took a deep, rattled breath, pushing the regret to the back of his mind and observing the rest of his situation instead.

The yellow lights in the room were horrible bright, allowing for Peter's shadow to loom out in front of him in a stark contrast to the light concrete ground. He forced himself to turn away from it, instead trying to find a means of escape. There were no windows in the small room that he would peg as a larger storage room, though there wasn't really anything to store. There were a few plastic shelves that had wheels on the end, but, save for a couple of blankets and a pillow, there was nothing resting on them. The only other things in the room were a metal door, a stained bucket, a few stools, and a blinking camera.

Peter turned to glare at it directly, watching it warily as the light on it blinked red. Who was behind that camera? It had to be the vulture guy, right? He'd recognized one of the men that had come to grab him, and they had alien weapons, so. Yeah, Peter may have gotten in a little over his head.

"Hello?" he called, shouldering the ropes wrapped around him. They didn't give, just rubbing against the hoodie that still smelled of Mr. Stark. He tried desperately to block it out. "Hey! What the hell's going on!?"

There was, of course, no answer, so he slumped against the pillar, grimacing at the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He wished desperately that he knew what time it was. Then again, he guessed it didn't really matter. His grounding had already been extended, and what was a few more missed meals? It surely didn't feel like it really mattered anymore.

It was a few minutes before anyone came by. Peter was straining against the chains, struggling to get some kind of hold in his awkward position, when the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He paused in his efforts, stilling to stare at the door as it opened and a wrinkled man stepped through. It took him a moment, but he was quick to realize that it had been the man on the ferry.

This must be the vulture guy.

The door boomed to a slow shut behind the man, who grabbed one of the stools and sat atop it, regarding Peter easily. There was a minute of tense silence before anyone spoke.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Peter," the man started. Peter scowled. Great. Of course the man knew his name. "But you're bad for business, and so is your little shadow right there, so you'll be staying with us for the time being."

Peter blinked, trying to hide his surprise as he glanced down at the shadow he'd been avoiding. The vulture guy knew Mr. Stark was his soulmate?

"What is this? A ransom? Because he won't pay."

The man huffed sarcastically, shaking his head. "You two seem close." Peter bristled at the mockery in the man's voice. "But, no, I'm not going to ransom you for money. You'll be a nice and easy distraction while we take what we want."

Peter stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid you aren't cleared to know that," the man said, standing up. "The light will stay on while you're here, in case you give Stark any flashes. The only way out is through this door, which has a second electric door on it that will reactivate once I leave. If you stay nice for this first day, or if you somehow manage to do it yourself, you'll be let out of the chains and brought meals on the regular. Understand?"

"How long do you think you're going to keep me here?"

"Just a few days. You will miss your Homecoming, though, I'm afraid."

"How did you find me?" Peter demanded. The man gave him a threatening smile.

"All we had to do was follow your shadow."

And then he was out the door. Peter was left alone in the overly bright room. Just him, his shadow, and the clinking chains.

He knocked his head against the pillar, closing his eyes shut with a regretful sigh.

---

After a few hours of rest, Peter managed to wrestle out of his ropes. First he snapped the handcuffs holding him against the pillar, flinching as the metal cut into his skin, and then tearing through the last of the binds restraining the rest of him. As the man had promised, no one came for him after he'd freed himself from the ropes, leaving the boy to his own devices. So he'd gone on to try and figure a plan of escape. These men were planning something, scheming to trick Mr. Stark, and they were going to use him to do it. And Peter wasn't going to let them.

That had been two days ago.

With a tired sigh, the teenager knocked his head against the stone wall for the millionth time that day, staring up at the camera and wishing desperately there was at least something for him to do. He'd even take a coloring book at this point. With those dumb twisty Crayola pencils. Anything was better than just sitting here and wondering.

Wondering what was happening. Wondering how people were reacting to his disappearing. Wondering if Mr. Stark had heard, or if he'd cared. And, of course, pondering the 'What if?'

What if Peter hadn't gone after the vulture guy? What if he'd listened to Mr. Stark? What if he'd done better and been able to take the man down without messing up? Would he be a good soulmate then? One worthy of Mr. Stark?

There were no answers to his questions. Not one. There were speculations and dreams and nightmares that had shocked him awake the few times he'd been able to catch slivers of sleep in this place, but there were no concrete answers. Maybe there never would be.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vehemently, turning away from the camera to stare at the door instead. At least the meal times here were consistent, more that with Mr. Fowler, though with the same boring peanut butter sandwiches for every meal. In all honestly, if the teenager had been given something to entertain himself with, or the lights were at least dimmed for when he needed to sleep, he'd consider this place better than the group home. Yes, he was aware of how horrible that was, but anything was better than the musty odor of liquor and the sharp tug of a hand, fingernails biting.

Teeming with unbearably restless energy, Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking around the small room in laps, trying once more to find anything to get out of here. A loose nail, a crowbar, something cool that an alien weapons dealer might have left in their storage room, but, like the first thousand times, there was nothing for the teenager to grab. There was the bucket for him to relieve himself in, the couple of empty storage shelves (he'd placed the left over blanket and pillow on the top of one, feeling much safer to be at least out of temporary reach should anyone come into the room to try and grab him), and the stools. There was, also, the camera, but that had made out to be very off limits since day one.

He'd crawled up the wall towards it and the light had immediately flashed red, a warning buzzer screeching through the storage closet. With a shiver up his spine, Peter had dropped from the wall, clutching at his ears desperately. The light had turned yellow once more and the room had been returned to that horrible, thick silence.

And it had been like that since.

And today it changed.

The hairs on his arms raised, forcing Peter to sit up from where he was laying against the wired shelf. He glanced at the camera warily but, a few seconds later, the door buzzed and then opened. There were three men. Vulture guy, shocky-gauntlet dude, and the other man that had been in the alley when Peter had been taken. They all had weapons.

Vulture guy was the calmest of the three, horrifyingly easygoing as he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Peter lazily. The teenager eyed the gun strapped to his belt.

"Get down here, Pedro. You've got work to do."

Peter stared at the man. The man stared at Peter.

"What kind of work?" he asked hesitantly, keeping his expression painfully schooled, though he wasn't sure it'd worked.

"Just a bit of good ol' fashioned negotiation."

"I already told you he wouldn't pay a ransom."

"Money's not what we're looking for, kid," the man said. He gestured to the gun strapped to his hip. "Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You choose."

"What are you? A cop?" Peter muttered, but he jumped down from the shelf anyway, keeping his head up in an attempt to avoid his shadow. The man smiled, clearly amused by his joke.

"I've got the cuffs to prove it," he joked, pulling the thick metal cuffs out. They weren't regular cuffs, like the ones that he'd snapped out of a few days ago, but instead thick ones that would coat all the way up to his wrists. They were held out, open, in front of him expectantly. "Putter' there, kid."

With a low exhale, Peter placed his hands in the cuffs, resisting a flinch when they clamped shut. The man just smiled on him, a condescending pat on his shoulder. He couldn't help the flinch.

"Great. Let's get going."

Peter followed the man out of the room he'd been trapped in, his hands stuck together in front of him and his head forced up away from the glare of his shadow. The teenager finally took in the building he'd been kept in for the past two days, eyes narrowing as he tried to remember every single detail, but it wasn't some sort of maze like he'd been expecting. It was just--a warehouse. An empty warehouse, a few loose pieces of furniture and knick-knacks scattered on the cement floors.

It wasn't very long before they stepped through one last hallway, ending in an open room. It was as dim as everything else had been, shadowed pillars holding up the ceiling. For some reason, his hairs raised and his spine shivered. He halted to a suspicious stop, staring at the vulture guy for a moment before turning to stare at the rest of the room. Something in here was wrong. Very, very, wrong.

The man with the shocker knocked against his shoulder, pushing Peter forward. With a hesitant shiver, the teenager followed after the man, examining every inch of the room he could see.

They stopped in the dead center of the room beside one the pillars. A pile of chains sat on the ground next to it. Peter stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing, before turning to look back up. His eyes caught onto a timer on the wall, sitting idle at thirty minutes but not yet counting down.

The clinking of chains caught Peter's attention, and he turned to see the shocker guy and the other men grabbing the metal and staring up at him expectantly. He glanced between them and the timer, his eyebrows raised. The vulture smiled.

"It'll all be explained later," he said. Then he shrugged. "Or maybe it won't. I don't really care either way. Now sit down."

Peter glanced at the pillar, the men with the surrounding chains, his cuffed hands, and, finally, at his shadow. His gaze rested there for a tired moment, at where he'd been refusing to look at for days. At the sharp cut of Mr. Stark's chin and the hair that was always spiked up in a constant swoop. He was grateful that shadows didn't have eyes, saving him from the man's disappointed stare.

But the shadow wouldn't save him from the men here, so Peter would have to. He'd have to at least try.

"Yep. I will definitely do that now," Peter said, moving over to the men.

He allowed for the shocker gauntlet guy to move just a little closer, and then he struck. With metal encased fists, the teenager lashed out, landing a harsh punch to the man's face and following it with a kick that launched him halfway across the room. There was panicked shouts as he whirled back around, ducking low as a bullet fired, lodging in the pillar behind him.

He rolled as he ducked, using the force of his weight to slam into the other man's legs, who consequently tumbled to the ground. Peter rolled fast enough to carry past the man as he fell, springing back up onto his feet clumsily. He ran, ducking behind a pillar as gunshots rang, the men picking themselves back up.

The teenager twisted, searching for an escape. There was a door to his right, about halfway across the room. A few pillars stood between him and his best shot at freedom, just enough for him to dive and grab some cover, but it would be risky. Peter glanced at his shadow.

He ran.

He only made it past two pillars when his senses spiked. He dropped into a crouch on instinct, flinching as the pillar beside was slashed, a slice of beating wind rushing over him. He squinted up to see the vulture's wingsuit, turning around at the wall and circling the room once before coming back to Peter. He moved to run, but the suit had already caught up with the gasping teen, blocking his path and knocking him to the ground.

Footsteps echoed lightly as Peter tried to scramble back to his feet, only managing to push himself onto his elbows until there was the click of a gun. He turned, glaring up at the vulture guy, a pistol in hand pointed barely a few feet from his head.

"Nice try, Pedro," the man said, pulling back a smile. He called, "Schultz!"

Shock gauntlet guy was back, one eye black and his gauntlet buzzing with power. It charged up with an electric whine, the man raised back his fist, and when it came down, Peter only knew two things. Pain and darkness.

---

Tony stared around the completely packed tower, only a few boxes left in his lab to be moved to the plane that would blend into the dark New York night in barely ten minutes. He sighed, tucking his hands in his pocket as he looked out the window over the city. The billionaire had never been known for his sentiment, but even he could say that this move held a lot of significance. And, not only that, but, out there in the dark city below, his little shadow remained.

He'd been reeling the past couple days from the incident at the ferry, about Peter's actions and his own. In the end, the kid was only a kid, one desperate to put some good in the world. He was smart and strong and everything Tony hadn't been, but then he thought of the people on that ferry. If one had died, and Peter had been the cause of it--well, it was easy to see the kid would have never recovered from that.

He needed time, and Tony needed time too. 'Forever' had been a little rash, but a week and a half didn't quite have the consequences the teenager needed to swallow. After returning from the dock, he'd placed the neatly folded suit into the nearest box and hadn't looked back. He assumed the suit was somewhere still in the empty lab, waiting to be unpacked and then eventually returned to the kid when Tony saw him on Friday.

He furrowed his brows, pulling out his phone. Maybe he should text Peter, or call him, and make sure he was okay. He hadn't really expected to hear from the kid in the past few days, but after seeing Peter's thin ribs and hearing that his foster father had taken his money, he was less than thrilled to leave him alone.

Glancing back at the boxes left, he moved to click on the kid's number. This wouldn't take too long, and they would be going in his car anyway. No plane required.

An echoed ringtone answered the stale night air before he could click call.

"What?" he muttered to himself, turning his phone off. He turned away from the window to stare at the leftover boxes. Hesitantly, he stepped over to them, opening the one where the ringing was loudest.

Peter's suit sat inside, twitching as it rang. He reached out his hand, grabbing the red fabric and pulling it out. It was folded crisply, the mask tucked away neatly between the cloth. He snagged it from beneath the fabric, surprised at the heaviness of it.

A badge, a card, and a ringing phone all tumbled out, clattering on the floor as the mask was upturned.

What the hell...?

He kneeled down beside the items, heart racing and picking up the still ringing phone displaying an unknown number. He snatched it up, answering the call immediately and pressing it up to his ear, picking up the other items left behind.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hmm, I expected a cute kid like Parker's soulmate to be nicer." Tony froze, motioning for Friday to begin tracking the call. "Then again, I knew what I was walking into ever since you pulled him out of that lake last week. You two should really be more careful about where you hold your conversations, y'know."

"Get to the point," he snapped. Out of the lake. Vulture Guy. He pulled up a separate hologram and began to search for what he'd previously left to the FBI. Pictures and shaky videos of the large metal wings appeared in front of him.

"Y'know," the man dawdled, ignoring Tony's demand. "I didn't quite believe the kid when he said you wouldn't pay a ransom. I mean, a billionaire for a soulmate and, with no hesitation, he just said it. But really, I get it now. I do."

"You don't get anything."

"I don't? Well, that's a surprise. I usually get things, and this one isn't very hard to tell. Kid hasn't looked at his shadow in two days."

Two...

"What the hell have you done to him?" he whispered, voice cold. He whirled around towards the screen that had the phone's location, brows furrowing when it wasn't any closer to finding out the source of the call.

"I've insured that business will continue to boom, Tony," the man answered easily. Tony took a seething breath, reigning himself in. Ransom. He'd said something about a ransom.

"What do you want?"

"Did you finish packing yet?"

Tony glanced at the boxes. "Yes."

"Good. That plane of yours is scheduled to take off soon. Let's make sure it stays that way."

"And Peter?"

"You get to come and get him."

"And if the plane doesn't stay on schedule?"

"You won't get the location in time. No more shadow for you."

Tony glanced down at the mask clutched in his hand and then at the shadow on the ground. It was pale in the dim room, hair curly and clothed in a baggy sweatshirt.

"I need proof that you have him," he demanded. There was ding. Drawing the phone away from his ear, he glared down at the photo. Peter was slumped against a cement pillar, chains wrapped tightly and thickly around him and the pillar. He was gagged and clearly passed out, a purple bruise forming around his eye. He still wore Tony's red hoodie.

"Did you get your proof?"

Tony swallowed. "Yep. Loud and clear."

"Great. When your plane leaves, I'll send you the location. As of now, you have half an hour."

"Until what?"

"I guess you'll find out."

And then the call disconnected.

"Shit!" he yelled, grabbing the suit and balling it up. "Friday, location."

"I was unable to trace the call, sir."

He rubbed at his face. "How long until wings up?"

"Ten minutes."

"Keep an eye out for an anonymous message. Notify me immediately. And how long would it take to get out a suit and reassemble it?"

"For the current Mark, anywhere between ten and fifteen minutes."

"That's too long," he muttered. Everything was taking too long. "Get my car ready downstairs. I want it waiting out front for me at a moment's notice."

"Of course, sir."

Panicking only slightly, he grabbed the last two boxes, piling them in his arms and rushing them to the elevator. The ride was quick, but it could have been quicker. When the doors slid open, he dashed out to where workers were piling the last of the tower's belongings into the open plane, Happy overseeing them all.

"All right, wheels up in eight minutes. We just got to load Tony’s old Hulkbuster armor, prototype for Cap’s new shield, and the Meging... the Meg... the... Thor’s magic belt," his friend called, catching sight of Tony, he paused. "And these two boxes. Hey, boss, what's up? You look like you're about to be sick."

"I need the plane going as quickly as possible. And I really mean as fast. As. Possible."

"Tony, what--"

"Just get it going," Tony snapped, making a note to apologize to his friend later. There wasn't any time to explain. Happy stared at him, and then nodded.

"Okay. Five minutes, it'll be in the air."

"Good. Thanks, Hap."

Tony left the boxes, keeping the suit and Peter's belongings with him and dashing back to the elevator. It took him to the empty bottom floor as quickly as possible, where he practically tore out through the doors and to where his car was waiting for him. The gas was already running as he slipped into it, pulling out his phone and waiting.

"How long since the timer started, Fri?"

"Seven minutes."

"The plane?"

"Taking off now."

Tony rolled down the window, poking his head out and squinting up. There was a distortion of movement, and then there was a buzz. He turned back into the car, glaring down at his phone to see an address in Brooklyn.

He floored on the gas.

"How far away is this?"

"Approximately twenty-eight minutes."

"How long we got?"

"Twenty-two."

"Great. Let's be there in twenty. Quickest route. I don't care how many laws we have to break to get there, got it? And trace the message's location, send it to Rhodes when you find it."

"Of course, sir."

Tony didn't know how many red lights he forced the car through, how many people he cut off and sped around, cutting every corner he could possibly find. It didn't feel fast enough. But nothing ever could. The only thing that went fast enough was the rapid pounding of his skittery heart.

How could he have been so stupid to leave Peter alone like that? To meet him and then drop him off like the drop of the hat. And to not even bring him home or make sure he wasn't injured. Or to even just have a reasonable conversation. It was despicable of Tony. And now Peter might die because of it. His little shadow.

While driving, he ordered for Friday to find Peter's missing person's report, his heart beating rapidly as he tried to piece together when the kid had been taken. Where? How far out had Tony been? Had they just been waiting for him to leave?

As it turned out, there wasn't one. Tony chewed his lip, pushing it to the back of his mind for now and just continuing to floor the pedal. One step at a time. He just had to get there before whatever was going to happen happened.

Tony ended up arriving in eighteen. He barely even parked the car, just ripped down the joystick and leaped out, running without any kind of hesitation into the dark warehouse.

---

When Peter blinked awake, it was to a constant ticking and the loss of his shadow. He panicked, struggling in an attempt to see what had guarded over him for so long. He needed it now more than ever. The chains he was trapped in rattled and clinked with his weak movements, and he winced at the pain around his eye and the soreness in his jaw. After a moment, he realized that it was the tight gag cutting into his cheeks so hard he was sure that there were cuts around the area.

A little more searching revealed to the trapped teenager that his shadow was still there, if a little faint. It stumped out in front of him, hard to make out, but Peter was grateful nonetheless. He knocked his head against the pillar, staring at the shadow in an attempt to force down the way his hairs were still raised on end.

He forced himself to tune into the ticking that was still happening, furrowing his brows and straining his ears. There was a lot of ticking actually. One in the pillar across to him, and the one across from him, and the ones line across the room...

The pillars were filled with bombs.

His breath caught.

Breathing was hard through the tight gag, but he managed to shudder in a few deep breaths, his whole body moving with the impossible action. After what felt like forever, he was a little more coherent, a little more able to comprehend his situation. Peter glanced away from his shadow, instead staring up to where the timer had been earlier. It was counting down quickly, now leaving him with five and a half minutes. The vulture guy hadn't said what was going to happen when that timer ran out, but, given the ticking bombs in the pillars, he had an idea.

The teenager began to struggle, trying desperately to get a good enough grip to pull his cuffs apart, but the chains kept his arms firmly strapped against his side. He let out a frustrated grunt after a minute of fruitless wrestling with the clinking metal, letting his head drop and blinking tiredly. Think, Parker, think.

"PETER!!"

Peter perked back up at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he recognized the frantic voice echoing through the halls. Mr. Stark. What was Mr. Stark doing here? Is this what the vulture guy had meant?

Peter tried to shout back but, of course, the gag muffled his ability to speak. All that was choked out was a long grunt that barely made it past the room. He tried a few more times, rustling his chains as loud as possible to catch the man's attention. It apparently worked, because footsteps approached.

Mr. Stark burst through the door, frantic and wild eyes landing on Peter with a short gasp, but he never stopped running, sliding to a stop on his knees in front of the boy.

"Peter. Oh, my God, Peter, I am so sorry," the man apologized, his voice a whisper. Hands reached out towards his face. Peter couldn't help the way he flinched away, his head knocking against the pillar painfully, leaving splintered cracks in the cement. Mr. Stark paused, mumbling a horrified apology and glancing at his watch anxiously. "Okay, here's the deal. We're under a pretty strict time limit, okay? I just gotta get you out of here. Can I...can I take your gag off? Please?"

Peter hesitated, glancing at the clock behind Mr. Stark's head. Three and a half minutes.

Mr. Stark followed his gaze, glancing over his shoulder to catch sight of the ticking timer, his expression darkening. He turned back to Peter.

"Like I said, time limit. So, can I?"

After a moment, Peter nodded, leaning his head forward to let him grasp at the fabric. His instincts screamed to not give the man purchase to his hair, but Peter knew better. Not that he could stop the flinch when Mr. Stark's fingers brushed against the back of his head.

Mr. Stark reached forward immediately, untying the knot and pulling the gag away in a gentle manner, letting Peter finally take a deep breath. He moved his jaw, trying to undo some of the tension trapped there and wincing at the pain that dug into it. The billionaire moved onto working the chains, his watch turning into a bright red Iron Man gauntlet that began to power through the metal.

It was silent a moment before, "When did they get you?"

Peter swallowed, leaning his head back and shrugging. "After the uh--after the ferry. Cornered me in an alley probably half an hour after."

"I'm sorry, kid," Mr. Stark apologized, but Peter just shrugged again, staring pointedly forward. He kept a careful eye on the clock. Two and a half minutes, and the chains weren't looking good. He narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the watch. It didn't have a direct power source, and he very much doubted it would be able to break through all of his chains in time. He swallowed.

"It's okay. My fault anyways."

"No. This isn't--"

"It is, Mr. Stark," Peter protested. Mr. Stark stared at him, but he needed this off of his chest. This horrible guilt that he was he'd never get the chance to get rid of. And now might be his last opportunity. "I was the one who went after the vulture guy. Not even with good intentions. I just... I don't know. You're--you're Tony Stark, and having me for a soulmate seemed less than thrilling to you. I just wanted to prove that I was worthy to be your shadow. And I didn't. And I'm sorry. And...and I get why you didn't want to talk to me again."

"Peter--"

"Just go, Mr. Stark."

"What? No! I will not leave you--"

"The clock, Mr. Stark." They both turned to look at it. "Less than a minute. You won't get me free in time."

"We don't even know what will happen! It could be a fluke for all we know," the man protested. Peter stared at him, unable to keep himself from trembling in fear, gesturing towards the nearest pillar with a nod of his head. His voice was a quaking whisper.

"These all have bombs in them. Every single one, except for the one I'm tied against. You won't make it if you stay here."

Mr. Stark stared at him, his gaze hard, still blazing through the chains. None had been completely broken yet, but they were beginning to turn orangey-red. There was a frightening resolution in his stare, and Peter did his best to return it despite how much he was blinking back horribly frustrated tears. He forced his gaze away, checking the timer once more. Twenty seconds.

"Please, Mr. Stark. You need to go."

"I'm not leaving you," the man said. The chains were getting redder, Peter could probably tear at them soon, but not soon enough. He continued straining anyway, grunting as the metal resisted against him. "We're going to have a much longer talk later, kid, but I don't want you to think for a second that I don't want you as my soulmate. You're a good kid, with a good heart. There is nothing to prove. Absolutely nothing."

Peter glanced at him from where he was straining, surprised at the wetness swimming in the man's eyes.

The chains snapped, falling around Peter in a metal heap. The timer beeped.

The thundering of booms crowded Peter, going off around the room in a sporadic circle. Mr. Stark's arms wrapped around him immediately, a protective body shielding him against what Peter had honestly expected to be a bigger explosion. Instead, they were small, knocking out the middle of the pillars so quickly that trying to follow them made his head spin. He figured out what was happening just a second too late.

Working against the instinct to curl himself into a protective huddle underneath his soulmate, safe from the crowding dust and explosions that shattered through the air so hard that he could feel the vibrations underneath the man's arms, the teenager broke free of his hold. The ceiling crumbled down as quickly as he moved, forcing Mr. Stark to the ground as far away as he could reach and piling himself in between.

No amount of bracing himself could have prepared Peter for the pain.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

#friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #Iron Man #spiderman #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #ironman fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #not st*rker

32 notes · View notes

deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

i have been sick in bed with a stomach bug and re-reading a bunch of your series and these questions have plagued me so pls, for the sake of your fellow samuel chung lover, if sammy was in the Selkie verse, would he be a fae? if so, what kind? ALSO, what would his interactions with jack be like (either in the selkie verse or in the lying by omission verse)? pls and thanks <3

hi!

I’ll answer asks in a bit, but for this one I have a fic that explore a What If Jack Lived/Mike existed scenario with Sam in the Inimitable verse? I know it’s now what you asked for, but it is like 4k already written so that might be smth--an LBO Sam would be tricky because Sam would be itty bitty and Matt wouldn’t have the same kind of relationship with him.

As for selkie-verse Sam? I would have to do more research on Chinese spirts/fae/folklore, but for now, he’s not fae, just human 💖He’s like 12 and can make himself invisible though, which would be very confusing for Sue if she ever bumped into him

(Sue: baby boggart??? come here I love you I will look after you.)

(Sam: please stay exactly 5037 feet away from me! Thank you and I’m calling my mom!)

Here is the What If Jack and Mike thing from the Inimitable Verse.

Jack Murdock was the size of a house. He made Matt look dainty. He made Kirsten look like a kids’ mannequin. And he made Foggy laugh until he wept.

Sam could not understand a goddamn thing he said. Nor could he understand the guy he’d brought with him, who appeared to have had some serious plastic surgery to look exactly like Matt.

Sam could take an unintelligible giant. What he couldn’t take was an unintelligible Matt, and before him, somehow, in this ring of ginger, he’d been presented with two unintellible Matts.

His head was spinning.

Kirsten patted at him sympathetically.

“I’m from New York,” Sam told her mournfully.

“I know, hon.”

“How is this even possible? You’re from New York. How are they—what are they saying?”

Kirsten shook her head.

“Only Foggy knows,” she said. “It’s okay, he’ll translate when he gets back up.”

Mr. Murdock, the tallest of the gingers, might have been a good three to four inches taller than his boys, and he might have had the biggest hands that Sam had ever had the opportunity to touch in his life, but he was really nothing but a big, shaggy sheep dog.

The reasons Sam couldn’t understand a single fucking word he said came threefold.

1) Mr. Murdock had grown up in mid-century Hell’s Kitchen. That was just how accents from those parts used to sound. They’d lightened with time.

2) He had an extra layer of what Matt called a ‘brogue.’ He was first-generation American. Both his folks had immigrated from Ireland. He talked halfway between the way they talked and the way that the kids in his neighborhood growing up had.

And 3) The man had a lisp?

It wasn’t super noticeable. Sam sure as shit couldn’t hear it among the other layers of stuff going on, but Foggy said it was there.

Apparently, it came out more when he was anxious.

Apparently, he was anxious a lot.

Foggy told Sam to just give it an hour and he’d understand.

“So your name is Sam?” Mr. Murdock asked him while Sam tried to keep his mouth from falling open.

Matt was holding his facial-copy-cat against the wall by his lapels. The copy-cat had started making kissy noises at him. He egged Matt on to punch him right in the face.

No one was stopping them.

Kirsten cleared her throat and brought Sam back down to earth.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sam. Mr., uh—”

“Call me Jack.”

Never.

“Matty hasn’t said much about you, sorry to say.” Mr. Murdock explained. The more he spoke directly to Sam, the more Sam found, to his relief, that he could understand him. “He don’t like sharin’ things his brother can get ahold of and take from ‘im.”

Sam looked from him to the ‘brother.’

“There’s two of them?” he asked.

Mr. Murdock hummed.

“God help us, every one,” he huffed.

You can say that again.

“How long has there been two?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“Mm? Oh, uh. Christ with the math,” Mr. Murdock said, “Michael—Michael—boy, you knock that off; that’s how you lose teeth—how old are you now?”

Nevermind. Sam didn’t need to know.

“I’m ageless, Pops, remember?” ‘Michael’ said, grinning at Matt’s sneer in his face, “Everlasting, never dying. Immortal. Timeless. I’m—” Dude got the wind knocked out his sails from Matt aiming for his solar plexus instead of his face.

“Maitiú,” Mr. Murdock said sharply. “He’s your brother.”

“He earned it,” Matt snapped back at his dad. “You said ‘no teeth,’ I ain’t even touched his goddamn teeth.”

“No, you coward, you wouldn’t, would you?” Michael threw back at Matt with no sense in his head. “You scared of gettin’ stuck on all that metal, huh?”

“I ain’t got my tetanus booster,” Matt deadpanned.

“Oh, get the yellow fever one next time, it’s a hoot—”

“I’m mailing you back to Thailand in a crate.”

“Oh mail me, why don’t you?”

“I’m gonna.”

“Boys,” Mr. Murdock said, exasperated. “Knock it off. You love each other. We get it.”

Kirsten shook with giggles.

“I’d drown you in the open ocean and then kill myself,” Matt said through gritted teeth. His nose was maybe an inch from his brother’s.

Michael just beamed.

“Aw, babe. You’d do that for me?” he gushed.

“HHhhh—”

“Maitiú.”

Sam had never heard someone said ‘Matthew’ this way. It was delightful. It made Matt’s shoulders go stiff as a board and then squirm in barely contained fury.

“Thank you,” Mr. Murdock said. “Drop ‘im.”

Matt didn’t want to, but he released his grip on his sibling. Michael slipped down and then caught himself and straightened himself out.

“Well, I’ll never,” he said. “We come all this way to visit you on your deathbed and—”

“I’m not dying,” Matt said.

“—you worry Dad sick for months on end. Don’t call. Don’t write. He thought the Californians had eaten you—"

“—I told him that it was a dislocation and I’m fine—”

“—and of course I told him, ‘no Dad, there ain’t any more cannibals in California than there are in New York’ but who listens to Mike, huh?”

Mr. Murdock had only been in the house for 15 minutes and he already looked exhausted.

“Where are the dogs?” he asked Foggy.

---

This was the weirdest time-out session Sam had ever experienced and he’d decided that he was living for it. Mr. Murdock went out onto the deck and locked himself out there with the dogs. Matt and his brother had never been more guilty.

Quickly the arguing turned towards scheming, which turned towards climbing out a window, which turned towards getting stuck on the roof and pleading with the Father to lend a hand.

Mr. Murdock observed Matt sobbing with laughter over Mike’s sudden anxiety of stepping from the roof to the deck’s arm railing with only hollowness.

“Mike’s not very super,” Sam pointed out to Kirsten.

“Nope,” she said brightly. “He is refreshingly normal,” she said. “Even the conman part.”

The what?

---

Matt climbed off the roof with ease and took the opportunity to finally give his old man a hug, which Mr. Murdock seemed to appreciate. He smoothed a giant mitt of a hand through Matt’s hair tenderly, like he was a baby.

It was kind of cute.

Mike scowled at them both and announced that he was pretty fine, by the way. He’d just stay there on the roof until the vultures got him.

“Matt’s the younger twin,” Foggy told Sam cheerfully. “He can do no wrong.”

Sam felt like he could suddenly see the forest for the trees.

“And Mike?” he asked.

Foggy snickered.

“He and Jack live together to keep each other in good cardiac shape,” he said. “They drive each other nuts.”

“But they still live together?” Sam clarified.

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “Mike’s what happens when you give a used-car salesman ever so slightly too much brain. He travels all over. Gets shot at and held hostage a lot. He’ll do just about anything for a couple bucks, no matter how hard Jack’s tried to get him to go straight over the years.”

“And Mr. Murdock? He doesn’t mind his son living with him?” Sam asked.

Kirsten and Foggy softened.

“Matt used to check on him more when we lived back home,” Foggy said. “Without him and Mike, Jack’s by himself. He’s got friends and work, yeah, but you know. If it weren’t for Mike, he’d come home to an empty apartment every night. Man’s got too much head trauma for that to be any kind of good. Mike looks after him—probably more than he lets anyone else. He’s too stubborn to let Matt try to help him.”

Aw, cute.

“Be prepared, Sammy,” Foggy said. “Jack’s already adopted you.”

Say what now?

---

Mr. Murdock didn’t outright say that Sam was puny and he was going to fix it, but Sam could see it in his disappointed gaze.

“Don’t like bread?” he asked as Sam chewed his way through an Uncrustable at the kitchen table. Sam froze with the sandwich in hand. He stared at it.

It was bread.

Surely, this was bread.

Right?

“Uh?” he tried.

“Don’t like the crusts?” Mr. Murdock asked him more gently.

Oh.

“I don’t mind them, these are premade though. You know, convenient,” Sam explained.

He got a stare impossible to read.

“Stay there,” Mr. Murdock decided.

It took too long for Sam’s brain to work out what had just happened, and by the time it had, it was too late. Matt stuck his head in the room and asked Sam why he’d told his dad that Matt was starving him.

Sam floundered and tried to explain the sandwiches. Matt absorbed this and rolled his whole head.

“Well, now he’s makin’ a week’s worth for you,” he sighed. “Wants you to eat the crust.”

Dude.

“It’s easier not to question it,” Matt sighed. “What kind of jelly do you want?”

---

Matt didn’t interrogate his father, but Mike did. Unrepentantly. He walked in as Sam was emphasizing that he didn’t want any kind of jelly and he’d make his own sandwiches and understood the entire situation faster than Sam could have possibly explained it.

“FATHER,” he roared. “Leave the boy alone, he’s not starvin’, he’s just short.”

Flattering. Thanks, asshole.

There was no response from the kitchen. Matt told Mike to ease off. Mr. Murdock was trying to be nice.

“There’s nice and then there’s rude,” Mike said.

“And you’re rude?” Matt offered.

There was a pause.

A warm hand found the space in between Sam’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry about both of ‘em, kid, they got rocks for brains, it ain’t their fault. Our grandfather was a caveman, you know how it is,” Mike said kindly.

Matt was not amused.

“It’s not a big deal,” he repeated. “I’ll eat ‘em if Sam doesn’t want ‘em.”

“And subject yourself to peanut butter hell for multiple days in a row, Maitiú?” Mike asked, scandalized.

Matt glared in the direction of the stairs.

“Some of us enjoy nut protein,” he said.

Sam blinked in shock as big hands slapped themselves over his ears.

“There are children present,” Mike hissed.

Sam found the guy’s middle fingers and yanked. Mike swore. Matt chuckled.

“He ain’t a baby,” he said fondly. “Sam’s a tough cookie.”

You’re damn right he was.

“Charming,” Mike grumbled as Matt abandoned them for the kitchen again. He scowled down at Sam. “What’s your gimmick then?” he asked.

Sam wondered if he could make his contacts come out by blinking slowly enough. It would be cool as fuck. It definitely wasn’t happening.

“I control typhoons,” he said.

Mike winced.

“Fuckin’ vigilantes,” he said.

---

Mr. Murdock gave Sam a second sandwich. He’d cut it into quarters.

“Matt says you don’t like jelly,” he said. “Bananas are better?”

Sam couldn’t help but like him.

“Yeah. I don’t eat much bread generally,” he said. “My family has always been more about rice.”

Mr. Murdock analyzed him.

“I can do rice,” he said.

Bless. It was okay, really.

“Do you like spicy things, Mr. Murdock?” Sam asked.

“Jack.”

Nice try.

“Spicy?” Sam repeated.

Mr. Murdock considered it.

“Not sure,” he said. “You mean like hot sauce? I ain’t fuck with that ghost pepper shit.”

Sam hummed.

“Before you leave, I’ll cook for you in return,” he said. “I won’t make it too spicy, cross my heart.”

Mr. Murdock considered this and then got a look in his eye that made Sam’s cheeks start to ache a little.

---

Matt told Sam to play nice. Matt told his father to play nice.

There was to be no hiding chilis in Mike’s pasta.

They were caught and scolded.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Murdock told Sam fondly, “There are other ways.”

---

Sam had never seen such outrage over a knot in a shoelace. Matt crossed his arms over his chest, seconds away from tapping his own foot.

“You said you were ready,” he reminded Mike for the fourth time.

“I know what I said,” Mike snapped at him. He’d dug through all the kitchen drawers to procure a metal skewer to apply to this situation.

“We’re going to be late,” Matt said. “I wait for my guide, she doesn’t wait for me.”

“Well she’s waitin’ today,” Mike said. “I swear to god—”

Mr. Murdock stroked the top of Tuesday’s head and asked Mike if he’d tried putting baby powder on it. Mike spat at him to mind his own business and went back to the knot. He managed it get it untangled and the shoe half on just in time to find the second one stuck in the third hole down.

He just about vibrated with fury.

Matt sighed loudly.

“Borrow mine already,” he said.

“Never.”

“Mike.”

“They’re blue. This outfit tolerates only warm colors, Matthew. ONLY warms.”

“We’re late.”

“Style waits for no man.”

“Well, clearly that ain’t the case, is it?”

Mike stood up sharply.

“I’m going to change,” he said. “And whatever elf tied these will rue the day. Mark my words.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll tell the elf—oh, my bad, the clown, Mike. It’s you. Get your life together. We’re late.”

Hilarious.

---

“Why don’t you move out here?” Sam asked Mr. Murdock as he watched Sam sand away at his latest secret project in Matt’s absence.

“Sun’ll kill me,” Mr. Murdock deadpanned.

“I thought so too, but it’s not so bad,” Sam said. “I miss the snow sometimes.”

Mr. Murdock cocked his head and then knelt down to take the sanding block out of Sam’s hands. He gestured for Sam to give him the hunk of wood in his hands, too.

“Matty says you don’t got papers,” he said.

Sam was surprised. Matt usually kept that secret locked tight. But Mr. Murdock didn’t seem to have any adverse reaction to it.

“No,” Sam admitted. “My mom brought me here when I was really little. I didn’t know what it meant to overstay a visa.”

Mr. Murdock hummed.

“Makes flying tricky,” he said.

Yeah.

“Bus, not too bad, though?”

Mm. Bus was better, yes.

“Train?”

Depended on the train.

“Hm. Well, if you get homesick or need busfare, you just give a shout, ya hear? You’re always welcome to stay with us.”

Aww.

“Or if you really hate yourself, I’m sure Mike would love to come pick you up.”

Oh god.

“He can drive?” Sam asked.

Mr. Murdock paused and held his face in his dusty palm.

“The day he got his license was the worst day of my life,” he said.

Sam snickered.

“Did you guys drive all the way here?” he asked.

“No, thank god.”

“Can you drive?”

“Son.”

Sam looked up from the block of wood into Mr. Murdock’s hazel eyes.

“I take two steps out of New York and I’m gone, that’s me dead. No, I don’t drive. Why the hell would I drive? Where the hell am I goin’?”

Wow, mood.

“I tried to drive once,” Sam said. “Reversed into a fire hydrant. Matt laughed so hard he cried.”

Mr. Murdock handed back the woodblock. It was much smoother than it had been. Sam was chocking that up to the muscles and the practice.

---

Matt and Mike got home and Mike announced that he was disowning that ‘putrid being’ that was the Swamp Monster beside him. Matt told Mr. Murdock that Mike didn’t approve of the swimming part of triathlon.

Mr. Murdock picked leaves out of his hair with supreme patience.

---

“So Dad’s officially decided that you’re his grandson,” Mike informed Sam out of nowhere that Sunday. “He prayed for you at church today.”

Sam almost dropped his wrench. That was so endearing his teeth hurt.

“It’s ‘cause I do woodwork,” he said. “He can smell the handyman on me.”

Mike cocked his head to the side. His eyes were blue like Matt’s. Their mom must have had blue eyes—or maybe hazel like Mr. Murdock’s.

“No,” Mike said. “It’s ‘cause he’s also been a grocery bagger, a janitor, and a contractor.”

He what now?

“He wants to know why you aren’t in college.”

Oh. well—

“Matt tried to explain, but you know, it ain’t clickin’. He don’t get the politics part of things sometimes. Gets confused why people make such a big deal when there’s obvious solutions in front of ‘em. It’s not all his fault, he barely got a highschool diploma back when ‘critical thinking’ wasn’t even a testing category. Anyways, he wants you to go to college. Thinks you’re too smart to be pushin’ paper.”

Sam was going to cry.

“I think he sees a lot of Matt in you,” Mike said with a squint. “So just as a warning, he’s unbearable. Always—well, no. More like 95% of the year. He’s alright around New Years when he’s tired. You can tell him to fuck off at any time, though.”

No, no. It was okay. It was nice to have…more family. That’s what it was.

“I hope you know what this means, Samuel,” Mike said.

Mmm no?

Mike’s hand clasped his shoulder.

“You can call me ‘uncle,’” he said.

Ah.

No, thanks.

---

Foggy and Kirsten couldn’t look at Sam without bursting into merciless laughter, which Sam had realized was a result of Mike’s vocal distress at his rejected offer of uncle-dom. Sam didn’t know what to tell him.

Mr. Murdock was nice. Enormous, yes, but very well meaning and gentle. His and Sam’s priorities and experience in life aligned neatly and Sam was slightly charmed by the way that he expressed himself verbally only to Matt and Mike.

Sam also didn’t hate Mike. He just didn’t want him to have uncle privileges. He didn’t see what was difficult about this.

“Mike’s got a history of rejection,” Foggy said. “And by that, I mean that every woman on the eastern seaboard has rejected him and he tries anyways.”

---

Matt came downstairs and told Sam to ignore everything Mike said to him all day. He also said that they were going out that night, so don’t burn fingers on the soldering iron.

Sam saluted in acknowledgement.

Forty minutes later there was a rap at his door followed by Mike saying through it that he wanted to show Sam something.

Sam did not open the door.

He heard Matt’s name being cursed on the other side.

---

Twenty minutes later there was another knock, this time with Mike saying that Mr. Murdock wanted to bond with Sam.

Sam nudged open his curtains and squinted hard into the backyard where he could see the vague shape of Matt chatting to his dad on the deck stairs, both apparently having a beer and shooting the shit.

This was a scam.

Sam would not be scammed.

He went back to the suit.

There was more cursing outside the door.

---

About half an hour later, there was a knock, followed by Mr. Murdock’s voice this time, asking Sam if his shoes were supposed to be on the front porch.

They were not.

This was playing dirty.

Sam ventured out to go right this wrong and ended up outside on the front porch with the conman himself. Mike closed the door after him triumphantly and proceeded to get them both locked out.

“Are you supposed to be a good conman or?” Sam asked.

Mike gaped at him.

“The best conman,” he said. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ve broken into a thousand houses and won two horses. I’ve got this.”

That was not comforting. Sam was not comforted.

“First, we gotta test all the windows, and, failing that, we get a rock or a gun,” Mike told him with a knowing finger.

Sam blinked at it and then up at Mike. The man’s shoulders twitched.

“Uh?” Mike said.

Ah. The eyes. No contacts today.

“Do you like them? They’re Prada,” Sam said to absolute silence.

“A brick,” Mike announced abruptly. “A brick works too. Like a rock but bigger.”

Okay, so they weren’t talking about it, gotcha. Look, a whole family’s worth of repression styles. Sam was glad that they had a full set of methods.

---

Sam broke into his own bedroom through the window. Mike clapped for him outside. Sam opted to leave him there.

---

He was sort of sad to see the Murdocks go, especially after seeing the effect that the most senior of them had on Matt.

Sam hadn’t seen him this chilled out. He visibly relaxed under his dad’s hand on the back of his neck. He tolerated the fussing and constant hair fixing and the fingers brushing at his cheeks and elbows. Mr. Murdock guided him with the same practiced ease that Foggy and Kirsten did, but his guiding was accompanied by a quiet, ongoing commentary about the street around them, which Sam hadn’t actually heard Foggy do in the same kind of way.

It was like Mr. Murdock was telling Matt a story everywhere they went.

He told him when there were flags hanging up a story above, waving in the wind. He told him about the hanging wire baskets of flowers that Sam forgot about. He huffed a bit while he talked about lines of traffic in the street and a vast lack of color in the group due to the absence of so many yellow cabs.

Mr. Murdock of course, had been Matt’s first ever guide. It only made sense that he had a specialized style of it, just for Matt.

And for Matt’s sake, Sam didn’t want him to go, but alas, New Yorkers, man. The city called them back to the coast like a siren.

“You take it easy, y��hear, kiddo?” Mr. Murdock told him at the airport.

Sam smiled and said that he’d try.

“Take care of yourself. I mean that. Out at night too.”

Copy that, big guy.

“Give us a hug.”

Oh??? A hug??? Sam loved hugs. Hugs were great. He was—er. Leaving this one with double the ribs from the cracks apparently.

Mr. Murdock released him to go break Matt in half and then Foggy and then Kirsten. Mike told him that he couldn’t avoid flying again by hugging people. He also warned Kirsten that he’d see her soon and that then, she was sure to fall for his charms.

Kirsten said that she would be waiting with bated breath, and then that was it. Three Murdocks again whittled down to one.

“God, I should have married your dad,” Foggy moaned.

Matt laughed at him.

“He’s plenty busy avoiding the gaze of every person over sixty in his building. Let him live,” he said. “Sam? Not too traumatized, I hope?”

Mm. Not so bad.

“Are you sure Mike’s your brother?” he asked.

“Unfortunately.”

Too bad.

“It’s fine, if we ever need a guy to distract the police, we’ve got him on retainer.”

That was true.

“They’ll come back?” Sam asked.

Matt paused before feeling for his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or we’ll go to them. I think you’d enjoy watching them in their natural environment.”

-----------

Hope that’s something for you anon!! I also hope you feel better!

#samuel chung #jack murdock #matt murdock #mike murdock #inimitable verse #fic #ficlet

103 notes · View notes

itsy-bitsy-spider-fan · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Leave Me Alone With Me

By @itsy-bitsy-spider-fan for @papered-owl

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, May Parker (mentioned)

Summary:

Peter landed on his side, ears ringing violently and thoughts hazy. He was shaking, or at least he thought he was, until he hazily looked down. The building was shaking. He snapped his head around to look through a window and watched dust and rubble start to fall past the glass.

“--Peter,” Karen said loudly in his ear when the ringing stopped just enough for him to hear the AI’s urgent voice. “You need to get out of there. The building’s unstable. It’s going to collapse---”

Panic whipped through him. Peter furiously moved for the window he’d broken on his way in but he knew with growing dread that he wasn’t going to make it. His mask lit up at the last second, and he ducked into the only spot highlighted in green.

When he looked up, it was to see the building come down on top of his head.

OR. Peter gets trapped under a building during a battle.

AO3 Link

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

**The formatting is much better on AO3. I recommend using the link provided. (Full tag list on AO3 as well.)

Don’t Leave Me Alone With Me

Peter was taking a break from his patrol when the text came in, flashing across the HUD he was still getting used to in glaring red font:

From TONY STARK: Problem in Manhattan. Want to swing by? Your AI has the address.

Peter nearly dropped the half-eaten churro he was holding in his haste to stand up before tossing the remainder of it to a nearby pigeon. When duty called -- or really, when Tony Stark called -- sacrifices had to be made.

“Tell him I’m on my way, Karen,” Peter said as he pulled his mask down to cover his whole face. “And, uh, let May know what’s going on.”

“Affirmative, Peter,” Karen replied, and he grinned before shooting a web at a nearby skyscraper and pulling himself up into the air.

Already, Karen was plotting the fastest route to get to the fight, and Peter wasn’t wasting any time. Lately, Mr. Stark had seemed to be making some semblance of an effort to keep Peter more than just on the radar, but it had been a while since Peter had been called in to actually help anywhere. He didn’t want to let Mr. Stark down -- like, ever.

“Okay, Karen, fill me in. What’s going on?”

Karen’s chirpy response was immediate. “News reports indicate that flying robots have been attacking upper Manhattan. No civilian casualties have been reported as of yet and police officers have begun evacuation procedures.”

Peter groaned. “Killer flying robots again? Do these villains not have any originality?”

The only time that Mr. Stark ever seemed to call Peter in was for fighting off robots. Apparently, there was more Chitauri tech circulating than either of them had thought, though Peter could only imagine how much worse it would be if the run of the mill villains doing things like stationing attacks on Manhattan would have gotten their hands on any of the Stark tech on the plane that Peter had saved from the Vulture.

“Based on data from recent encounters, it would appear they do not,” Karen asked, seeming to miss the rhetorical part of Peter’s question.

He laughed. “Alright, I’m glad I have statistics to back me up. Who’s there right now?”

“Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes are at the scene.”

Peter faltered, missing a mark with his web and sending one into thin air. He swore as he shot out another and clumsily swung around the side of a building. “That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Karen replied, managing to sound genuinely sorry.

“Hm,” Peter said, growing more serious as he realized that without the help of anyone else, this fight had the potential to grow very, very messy. “What’s our ETA, Karen?”

“You are two minutes out.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“No problem, Peter.”

Peter was approaching the fight before he knew it, and despite what he was coming up to, he was filled with a familiar rush of exhilaration when the silhouettes of the robots came into view. As soon as he was in range, Karen patched him into the communications channel Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes were using, and Peter flipped onto a roof as his ears exploded with noise and chaos, loud from the battle beneath him.

“--on your left, Tony--”

“--got it--”

“--ETA on Spider-Man--?”

“I’m here,” Peter chimed in, leaping off the roof and propelling himself onto a nearby building to get a closer look. “What’s going on Mr. Stark?”

“An anonymous source just sent dozens of these things into the sky,” he grunted, and Peter could see the Iron Man suit blasting a flurry of robots out of the sky. “Apparent motive is unknown. We’re fighting to disable and destroy them.”

“You got it,” Peter said, taking quick stock of the situation. “Chitauri?”

“Only of course.”

Peter grimaced, eyes following a robot as it careened his way. He quickly shot a web at the thing, jamming its robotic propellers and sending it spiraling towards the ground. The robots were vicious, and clearly more advanced than the ones he’d faced over the last two months when his encounters with bots were more frequent. The robots had long, wicked-looking blades for arms and razor-sharp propellers that made it impossible to get too close without getting slashed to pieces. Right before he sent another robot slamming into the empty street below, Peter noticed a glowing purple core in the thing’s chest area behind a thin framework of steel resembling a ribcage.

“Has the area been evacuated?”Peter grit out as he leaped into the fray, using a web to pull a bot into his ready fist, where he smashed it into a mess of shattered circuitry and crushed metal, all while deftly avoiding the blades extended his way.

Rhodey’s response was prompt. “The robots seemed to be linked to this specific quadrant of the city. They won’t go anywhere else. Police have evacuated the buildings inside this quadrant.”

So everything seemed to be under control then. Except… Peter didn’t think that was the end of it. It couldn’t be. The robots were numerous, sharp, but not much more than annoying in the grand scheme of things. Left unchecked, they’d probably wreak havoc on civilians but damage to surrounding areas was minimal. Why would a villain even bother?

As he wove around the side of a building to send a bot to an early demise, his skin crawled. He took out the bot and stopped, perched on the side of the building. They had to have been fighting for the better part of thirty minutes, but the robots had barely seemed to decrease in number.

Peter’s eyes narrowed on a swarm of bots rising from out of nowhere, and heading straight for Mr. Stark. Only the core in their chest wasn’t purple… it was red? And flashing instead of just glowing. That could only be bad news, a thought further emphasized by his spider sense flaring violently.

Peter punted a bot out of his way as he moved without thinking, swinging himself forward and furiously heading towards Mr. Stark. The swarm had broke apart, probably overwhelming Mr. Stark’s built-in sensors, but one was heading right for his back, and Peter had to act fast---

He slammed into the bot, sending it flying onto a nearby rooftop seconds before it exploded. In the seconds that it took for Peter to slam into the rooftop of an adjacent building, he was only relieved that he’d managed to get the thing away from Mr. Stark.

“Peter!” Mr. Stark yelled sharply, as the blast carried Peter onto a nearby rooftop, where he landed sloppily.

“I’m fine,” Peter managed, shooting a web and pulling himself up. “The blast radius on that thing is insane!”

“Blast radius?” Rhodey asked quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“The robot exploded,” Mr. Stark explained hastily as he and Peter fought back to back. “It was rigged with a bomb. The kid stopped it.”

“What the hell do we do then?”

“Keep it contained,” Mr. Stark bit out, returning the favor and blasting away a robot that Peter hadn’t managed to take out. “I think this was the last resort for whoever the hell sent these things out here.”

“Watch out for the cores in their chests,” Peter cut in. “The purple ones are fine, but the red ones explode.”

“Friday, you got that?”

“Affirmative, Boss,” a faint female voice said from inside Mr. Stark’s suit.

The intensity of the fight surged, leaving little room for more chatter. Peter could barely keep track of all the robots swarming around him. Without Karen and his spider sense, he would have been toast.

“Kid, watch your six,” Mr. Stark called in his ear, and Peter barely managed to propel himself away from an exploding bot.

“I am not looking forward to cleanup,” he breathed, circling back to hopefully cut the numbers down on these things.

Rhodey laughed in his earpiece and Peter grinned to himself, heartbeat galloping irregularly as the fight dragged on. Already his muscles were getting sore from having to snap himself back and forth to avoid getting blown to bits. Exertion made his skin damp with sweat, and he vaguely yearned for a shower. He’d already been patrolling for hours before Mr. Stark had asked for help (and jeez, saying there was a “problem” in Manhattan was a severe understatement; these things bypassed problematic and went straight to catastrophic.) So yeah. The exhaustion was compounding.

Maybe that’s why his next movements were too slow.

The robot slammed into his chest like a truck before he even knew what hit him, drawing a swear out of his mouth and sending him smashing through the window of a building behind him. Glass caught his fall and he groaned.

“Kid, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, rolling to his feet. “I just---”

His spider sense flared and Peter threw his hands up to cover his head as two of the robots who had followed him into the building exploded. The double explosion knocked him sideways, rattling his bones and sending heat searing over his body as he was tossed backwards like a wet rag.

Peter furiously moved for the window he’d broken on his way in but he knew with growing dread that he wasn’t going to make it. His mask lit up at the last second, and he ducked into the only spot highlighted in green.

When he looked up, it was to see the building come down on top of his head.

When Peter opened his eyes again, everything was still. The dust had settled. The building had stopped groaning and contorting. Darkness blanketed him, wrapped around him like a too-tight glove. For a moment, it was quiet: so quiet that it made Peter’s stomach swoop. He wasn’t even sure he was alive until his ears exploded with noise: staticky voices and explosions from his comms. The battle was still live, but Peter was… he was down. No --- worse.

He was stuck. Again.

“Karen,” he said hoarsely, furiously trying to stave off the approaching panic attack before it swallowed him up. “Karen, can they hear me?”

“You are muted,” came her monotonous reply.

Peter let out a hitched breath, clenching his teeth so hard he thought he might crack them. There was dust all over him, covering his mask and making the darkness thicker and impenetrable. He would need to take it off, or at least wipe it off if he wanted to regain his bearings, but that would mean moving and possibly upsetting whatever high-stakes Jenga tower he was under and the thought of that sent terror so sharp and icy through him that it took his breath away.

Or maybe what took his breath away was the notion that the second worst experience of his life was unfolding again.

Except this time, Peter wasn’t stuck under a warehouse.

He was stuck under a skyscraper.

The pocket he was in was barely big enough for him, that much was made clear even without sight. He was on his back, with both of his legs pinned down under something, and even though his arms were free, he could barely bring them up towards his mask. The left one felt broken. Moving it drew a strangled gasp from his throat so he swallowed and switched to his right, which wasn’t much better. He was pretty sure the cloud of shock and maybe adrenaline wrapped around his brain was muting the true nature of his injuries but he was more grateful than concerned. Karen hadn’t told him he was bleeding to death, at least. He cautiously lifted his right arm.

“Peter,” came Karen’s voice as his gloved fingers shakily slipped beneath the edge of his mask. “I would advise you not to remove your mask while the air filter is functioning.”

Peter’s hands stilled: he hadn’t considered that. The air filter, because of course Mr. Stark had thought of everything. Peter clenched his teeth and wiped off the dusty lenses of his mask instead. Almost immediately, his eyes started to adjust. Karen turned on night vision without any further prompting.

He almost regretted being able to see. The panic he had staved off before punched through his chest with a new fury as he stared up at the rubble trapping him. It was terrifying.

There was about two feet of space between his chest and the makeshift ceiling, which looked so fragile that Peter was surprised it wasn’t crushing him. He could see bent rebar and warped metal barely holding up literal tons of chunks of concrete and steel. Glass that he hadn’t noticed before was shattered and spread out beneath him, crunching and grinding into his back against the concrete floor he was on whenever he shifted.

And then there were his legs. A long pillar thing had fallen, trapping them, holding them down, crushing them, crushing him.

When Peter’s next breaths came, they came short and staccato, choppy and loud in the silence that came with being buried by tons of concrete. Peter’s heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears that he almost couldn’t hear his comms anymore, but he managed to tune in when he heard mentions of his name.

“Peter, we saw the building go down. Are you okay?”

His first instinct was a guttural cry for help, but he managed to stifle the panic down and swallowed dryly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want help. Even laying there in the dark with an invisible fist wrapped around his heart --- squeezing it --- he recognized that they were shorthanded. It was just Rhodey and Mr. Stark and how could Peter draw them away from a fight that still needed to be wrapped up? He couldn’t.

“I’m fine,” he managed tightly. “But I’m done. I can’t---”

“Shit, Rhodey I found it,” Mr. Stark interrupted with a breathy edge of exhilaration. “I found the source.”

“Can we disable it?” came Rhodey’s voice, crackly from interference on Peter’s part.

“I think so,” Mr. Stark replied rapidly. “Peter, are you secure? Can we wrap this up first?”

Something shifted and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as rubble closed in around him. This time, it wasn’t just the building that was shaking and Peter needed to get himself off the comms before he lost it basically in front of them.

“I’ll be okay.” And that wasn’t exactly a lie. He was pretty sure he’d be fine, except that as the panic increased so did the awareness that he was hurting in places he hadn’t noticed before. “Finish it.”

“Alright, see you in a minute kid.”

Peter severely doubted it, but he wasted no time in gasping, “Karen, mute” before the panic swallowed him whole.

Peter clenched his fists tightly and tried to breathe, but his eyes were burning and his chest was so tight he had to make sure that the rubble hadn’t crushed it after all. Moving was impossible and looking up made everything worse. How easily could this come down? All it would take is one stray explosion from a stupid robot and he could be done for. Peter shut his eyes to try and shut everything out.

A pipe burst somewhere above him and he flinched, eyes shooting open. The mass of destroyed rubble shifted, some of it coming down farther, closer to him, and he crossed his hands over his chest --- groaning when his left arm positively throbbed but at least he was ready to hold something up in case it fell.

A few seconds later, something did fall. It was water, and it was freezing. His whole body felt like he’d dipped it into an icy pond, even though the water coming down was barely more than the sprinklers at school he’d set off on accident during chemistry.

“Peter, you still there? Karen won’t give me a read on your condition.”

So he’d tried, Peter thought to himself as he instructed Karen to unmute. “I think some of her sensors were damaged when I--- uh, took the hit.” He craned his neck back when water sloshed onto his face. He was starting to shiver and his awareness seemed to be ebbing. “Are you guys almost, uh, almost done?”

“Just about, underoos,” Mr. Stark said, and Peter couldn’t even find the energy to be embarrassed about the nickname. “Hang tight.”

Haha. “Not like I have a choice,” Peter mumbled to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just let me know when you are on your way, okay?”

His voice was quieter than he’d meant, and Mr. Stark seemed to hesitate over the comms, like he should notice something, but the man didn’t. Peter sighed in short relief, almost grateful that the man didn’t know enough to call his bluff.

Peter had stopped sending voicemails to Mr. Stark’s phone a long time ago, especially after the Vulture incident (which he quickly put out of his mind before he lost it again.) Peter barely went over to the Avengers Compound. He only went over with Happy when there was an actual mission and when that was the case, he didn’t have a chance to say much to his mentor. So that was that.

Peter tried to doze off if only to muffle his torrent of thoughts, but every time he let his guard down, his enhanced senses picked up some sound that sent pure panic racing through him. The water had stopped after a while, but Peter was already wet --- so much so that he didn’t know which parts of him were bloody and which were just rained on.

“How long ‘as it been, Karen?” Peter whispered, shifting and wincing when broken glass dragged on his back.

“Twenty-seven minutes, Peter,” came her soft reply, and Peter nodded to himself dazedly.

Not much longer, then. Or at least he hoped. Over the comms which he kept forgetting to stay tuned in to, the sounds of the battle seemed to be dying. If Mr. Stark had found the source of the bots like he’d claimed, it had to be drawing to a close.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Peter had just found the closest thing to sleep that he could under the circumstances when Mr. Stark let out a victorious whoop. Peter shifted, hope sharpening some of the senses that had been dulled with the growing exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

“You did it?” he asked, coughing a little after.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark confirmed with a breathy, battle-worn laugh. “They’re disabled.”

Peter sighed in relief, but carefully, because any movement --- even breathing --- hurt. His left arm had stopped burning, had settled into a tame throb. His legs were numb from the cold but he could feel his toes so he attributed the numbness that drenched him from his chest down to the rust-smelling water.

“--Underoos? You there?” Mr. Stark was asking before Peter even realized he’d zoned out. He was in worse shape than he thought he was. Maybe because he knew he could finally get out of the suffocating pocket of dusty air he’d been trapped in for the better part of the last hour. “Peter? Spider-Man?”

Peter coughed. “What? Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Well, Karen isn’t telling me anything, kid. You sure did a number on her, huh?”

There it was again. That subtle edge of concern that Peter wasn’t sure was real. “You could say that.”

“We’re heading back,” Rhodey said into the comms. “Where are you down at, Spider-Man?”

“Uh, the building. The one that fell, I’m---” The building shifted and Peter’s heart nearly broke free of his ribcage. “Be careful, uh, I’m under it.”

If he hadn’t heard the sharp inhale that followed, Peter would have sworn that the comms had broken what for the way it went silent. Peter tried not to be embarrassed but even in his rapidly deteriorating state of consciousness, he recognized that he had severely messed up in letting himself get taken down --- and like this, of all ways.

“Peter--- Kid, what---” Mr. Stark choked out. He raggedly cleared his throat. “Where are--- nevermind, Friday, track--- yeah, okay--- hold on, kid, I’m coming. Just hang on, alright?”

Peter nodded to himself, breathing hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Mr. Stark said quickly. “Rhodey, are you---?”

“On your right, Tones,” Rhodey said tensely, voice hard.

Peter would have flinched if he wasn’t so afraid to move. The colonel seemed pissed --- at Peter? He set his jaw and closed his eyes. He had acted like a complete idiot. If it wasn’t bad that he hadn’t managed to escape the collapsing building in time, he had lost his crap in the dark and probably all of Mr. Stark’s trust.

He thought of the first time he’d met Rhodey, that first fight with Mr. Stark after things with the Vulture and Liz had settled down ---

“Tony, remind me. Who is this guy again?”

“He’s good; a good kid. Like an intern of mine, except he’s jacked.”

“Mr. Stark, really---?”

“You know it’s the truth, kid. Anyways, I’m showing him the ropes but he can handle his own. We can trust him, Rhodey.”

“You can, Colonel Rhodes, I swear---”

“Hm,” Rhodey had said, disbelieving. “It’s just Rhodey, Spider-Man.” To Tony: “Can I at least get a name?”

“Uh, well, he actually---”

“It’s Peter, Mr. Rhodes sir.”

“Kid, really? I thought you said---”

“I thought you said I can trust him?”

“I did--- you can--- of course you can, I---”

“It’s still Rhodey, you can drop the mister. And how old---”

“Like I said, I’m just showing him the ropes.”

Peter groaned and came back to the present when the rubble shifted, some of it falling down onto his face, crumbling and sliding against mask and he squeezed his eyes shut again---

“Is that you guys? Above me, is that---”

“We’re right here, Spider-Man,” Rhodey said reassuringly through the comms. “Just calm down. We’re almost to you.”

Peter nodded sharply even though he couldn’t see. He’d let himself panic, and now that they were close, he had to grit his teeth and get through it. Easier said than done.

The building shifted again --- worse than anytime before --- and he barely managed to hold back the terrified cry that threatened to leap out of his throat as a chunk of concrete the size of a watermelon dislodged from the unsteady ceiling above him and smashed down four inches away from his head. The entire building was groaning now, but the fear in Peter’s chest didn’t have a chance to spike before a metal-enclosed arm shot through the destroyed wall behind and above Peter’s head.

The Iron Man gauntlet.

For the first time since the building collapsed, Peter breathed. Or at least, he breathed easier. Above him were Iron Man and War Machine --- or was it the Iron Patriot now? Superhero politics were a mess and Peter didn’t want to exert brain power on anything other than getting the hell out of the pocket he was in. Either way, help had come.

“Mr. Stark,” he breathed, squinting violently through his mask as blinding daylight filled the space that darkness had just occupied. “Hey.”

Mr. Stark’s expression was shielded and stoney behind his helmet, but his voice betrayed the man’s relief. And maybe some anger that made Peter’s chest dry. “Hey yourself, kid. Ready to get out of here?”

Peter just nodded, gritting his teeth as the superheroes worked around him, carefully moving and stabilizing the rubble trapping him.

“You’re a lucky kid,” Rhodey said softly, sounding like he was farther away than he was, like at the back of a subway tunnel. That must have just been Peter. “You couldn’t have landed in a better spot.”

“Thanks to Karen,” Peter mumbled, wishing he could raise an arm to cover his eyes. His headache was worsening. Unfortunately, his arm felt even worse and he didn’t have enough energy to get his unbroken one up anyways.

“Karen?” Rhodey hedged, like maybe he thought Peter had a head injury or something.

To be fair, he probably did, but Karen was very real. Definitely not a hallucination.

“His AI,” Mr. Stark cut in with a short laugh. “And no, I didn’t name it.”

“It’s a good name,” Peter insisted weakly.

“Huh.” Rhodey sounded like he didn’t know what to make of that.

As they cautiously worked, Peter didn’t know how to feel. He was tired --- so tired --- but at the same time was unwilling to let himself pass out until he was in the clear, and especially not in front of two of his heroes.

Apparently his brain had other ideas. The thought of sleep had just barely crossed his mind when his eyelids started to droop. The fog from before was back, flooding his brain. Except instead of making everything cottony and jumbled, he felt relaxed. The exhaustion was crashing and so was his will to stop it.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna…”

He passed out.

-+-

The first thing Peter registered when the darkness in his brain thinned was the sound of voices, nearby and angry but hushed. He knew a whisper fight when he heard it and decided against opening his eyes; that seemed like too much work anyways in the warmth of… wherever he was. The notion that he was most likely in the Medbay of the Compound comforted him, but the two people arguing quietly did not.

“---what the hell were you thinking?” That sounded like Colonel Rhodes, or--- just Rhodey. Right. He’d almost forgotten. Rhodey sounded ragged. “A kid? And how old? Sixteen?”

“You knew he was a kid---”

“I knew he was young,” Rhodey whisper-snapped back. “It’s not like I had more than his name to go off of---”

“It’s better than it looks, okay?”

“I just pulled a kid from a collapsed building,” Rhodey heaved. “What could make that better?”

“You think I wanted him to do this?” Mr. Stark’s voice was rising, and Peter almost winced. “I don’t need a genius IQ to know that it’s dangerous. But he was a superhero before I was in the picture, Rhodey. I couldn’t keep Peter off the streets if I tried, okay? And I tried.” He let out an exhausted laugh. “I did try, okay? I’m doing the best I can. I’m helping him out. Taking him under my wing. It’s better than leaving him to his own devices. At least if he gets hurt or needs help, I can help him.”

There was a pause before finally, “This is insane.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mr. Stark breathed. “You should have seen the first suit he had. Glorified pajamas, I’m telling you.”

A pause and Peter didn’t know if he should open his eyes and let them know he was awake or keep listening. It only took Rhodey to angrily burst, “And what the hell was he thinking?” to convince him to stay “asleep.”

“He’s a good kid,” Mr. Stark answered. “He wanted to help people---”

“Not that,” Rhodey snapped, barely managing to keep quiet, as if it mattered anymore. “Why didn’t he call for us, huh? Jesus, he just stayed under there for… how long? Forty-minutes? An hour?”

Mr. Stark didn’t say anything, just let the tense silence pass.

“He could have died,” Rhodey said finally. “He almost did. Christ.” Another pause, a little longer than the last ones, and Peter swore they were looking at him. “Really needed to scare me half to death, didn’t you kid?”

They were definitely looking at him.

“Come on,” Mr. Stark muttered quietly. “Let’s go. I’ll check on him, later, okay?”

“Sure.”

“And we should probably get you something to drink,” Mr. Stark mused as they walked farther away. “Maybe a coffee?”

Rhodey scoffed out a laugh. “I think I need a Xanax.”

They both laughed, easier, and a door snicked shut right as the room went silent again.

Peter wanted to open his eyes, but he’d gotten too comfortable. Warmth was wrapped around him, dragging him down down down until he barely remembered what he was trying to think about.

By the time Peter drifted to consciousness, he was done with being tired. That wasn’t to say he was energetic, but when he came to, he wanted to stay awake. Wanted to figure things out now while he had the chance and hopefully, he realized with growing dread, avoid the wrath of Aunt May.

Opening his eyes underneath the bright lights of the stark room he was in was almost worse than opening them when the rubble around him had first been shifted to make way for blinding sunlight. He blinked rapidly as he waited for his brain to filter out some of the brightness.

It didn’t happen. Or at least, it wasn’t happening quickly.

Peter tentatively tried to sit upright (maneuvering around his newly-casted left arm) as a headache pulsed at the middle of the back of his skull, free hand reaching out to find a call button or something. The assault on his eyes was so bad that he couldn’t think straight. He always forgot how bad his senses got right after long battles, and this one had certainly been long.

Peter whipped his head up when he saw a flash of movement towards the approximate door shape. It was a head, bent and peeking through the doorway. As soon as Peter got a look at the face, the silhouette stepped into the doorway.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter croaked in confusion. “What---”

“Just checking in,” Mr. Stark said quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Good thing I did, huh? What’s wrong?”

“Lights,” Peter managed. “Can you turn them down?” Realization crossed Mr. Stark’s face. “Ah, dialled to eleven right? Friday, lights.”

The AI responded instantly, but not verbally. The lights immediately dimmed, and Peter relaxed. The headache was already fading, but the rest of his pain wasn’t. Peter shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, because he hadn’t wasted a thought on wha moving around might do to aggravate his injuries.

And aggravate his injuries he had. Peter winced as pain flared in his arm --- casted or not --- his knuckles, his legs, and his back. His back was probably torn to shreds because of the glass. His whole body hurt, now that he stopped to think about it, but mainly in a few spots.

Peter didn’t complain --- he’d take the pain to being stuck under a building any day --- but he didn’t have to say anything for Mr. Stark to read him like a book. The man’s face pulled with sympathy.

“I have a doctor working on synthesizing pain meds for you,” Mr. Stark told him, easing into a plush-backed chair near Peter’s fancy hospital bed. “But we had to give you some of, uh, Steve’s for now.”

Peter nodded, toying with the sheet draped over his lap. “Where am I, again?”

“The Medbay in my tower---”

“Your tower? I thought---”

“I didn’t tell you?” Mr. Stark asked curiously, cocking his head. Peter shook his head minutely. “I bought it back. Figured if I was going to be your mentor and all I should have a base, with a Medbay of course, nearby.”

Peter blinked. “You bought the tower back to help me?”

Mr. Stark shrugged, almost managing to look nonchalant. “Good thing I did. Didn’t think I’d need the Medbay so soon though, to be honest.” He glanced back at Peter with a hint of a smile. “It’s mostly office now. I kept my penthouse though, for you if you ever need to drop by. And the Medbay too, in case you ever get webbed up over your head.”

Peter blinked again when he heard that nugget of information but he managed to put his shock aside and ask hesitantly, “So, uh, what happened? After I, uh---”

“Passed out?” Mr. Stark finished, face darkening a hint. “Rhodey and I managed to get you out. Think you gave us about three heart attacks though when we got a good look at you.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Three each.”

Peter dropped his gaze. “He’s mad at me.”

“You heard that? Well, you’re kind of right. But he’s not mad at you because you messed up or whatever is going through your noble brain right now. Actually, I’m a little peeved too. So tell me.” Peter glanced up with a grimace. “Why didn’t you say anything? I know your comms were working.”

“I, uh, well…”

“Well?”

“I didn’t want to bother you guys,” Peter blurted, eyes widening when he read on Mr. Stark’s face that that was the Wrong Answer. “Uh, I mean there was only two of you with me down and there was like way too many robots for you to handle so I figured--- okay, so maybe I should have said something.”

“Right answer, kid,” Mr. Stark said, but his voice was a little tight. “Alright, second question.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“What did you mean by ‘not again?’”

Peter froze. “What?”

“You woke up for a minute,” Mr. Stark began lightly. “After you first passed out. You were muttering that phrase. ‘Not again.’ And you were talking about Toomes…?” Peter’s mouth was too dry to get a word out. “You were talking about the plane, right? The plane. Peter?”

“I guess I never told you about that night, huh?” Peter said weakly after he managed to find his words. “Toomes uh, he… well. He dropped a building on me.”

He tried for a laugh and fell short. As if he could ever laugh about that. But the last thing Peter wanted to do was tell Mr. Stark about it. About how helpless he’d been. About how he’d screamed himself hoarse calling for someone that wasn’t there. About how bad he’d let himself fall apart when he was alone.

“It turned out okay. I got out and followed him and took down the plane and well, you know the rest.” There was silence again that Peter hurried to fill. “It was okay though,” he reiterated. “I guess it happening again just was… too much.”

Peter wondered how many other people had managed to render Tony Stark speechless. Probably not a lot.

Mr. Stark blinked, like a lot, before finally saying, “What part of you getting a building dropped on you is okay? You know what, scratch that. Why didn’t you tell me? Who were you trying to save by keeping it in, anyway?”

“Well, it’s not like you made it easy,” he found himself almost-snapping defensively. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Mr. Stark said slowly. “But we’re changing things up, alright? I don’t want you to think you can’t tell me if you are literally dying so we’re going to do something about that. After you get better, of course. I can’t be passing on any of my bad habits.” He stood up, brushed imaginary dust off his thighs and headed towards the door.

Peter found himself straightening. “You’re leaving me here?”

Mr. Stark spun around. “Nope. Just stepping out to call your aunt---”

“You didn’t call my aunt yet?! She’s going to kill me,” Peter moaned.

“---and then I’m thinking we get to talking about an internship. Okay?”

“As long as you tell Aunt May that I physically could not text her, and therefore I should not be lectured for not checking in, then I think an internship would be, like, super cool Mr. Stark,” Peter said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“Your message will be relayed,” Mr. Stark answered, before his face became serious. “And can you drop the Mr. Stark now? Tony’s fine.”

Peter tilted his head, his brain flashing back to that time in Happy’s car with Mr. Stark. He couldn’t resist it.

“Thank you but, uh, I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Mr. Stark’s face dropped into an unimpressed scowl faster than a neuron firing off, making it more than worth it. Feeling like he was floating on clouds, and more relaxed than he’d been probably ever, Peter laughed.

#friendly neighborhood exhange #hurt/comfort #full tag list in AO3

58 notes · View notes

wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years ago

Text

Psycho Analysis: Spider-Man Movie Villains

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, he does whatever a spider can. And what do spiders seem really good at? Amassing huge quantities of hatred and animosity! True to the wily arachnids that inspired him, Spider-Man has quite the impressive gallery of foes, one that I might say rivals Batman as the greatest in comic book history with how colorful, crazy, and creative they are. Even villains derivative of one another, like Hobgoblin and Green Goblin or Carnage and Venom, manage to carve out unique niches that help make them fun and memorable.

And thankfully, these qualities usually translated pretty well to film! I’ve talked about how good Mysterio, Vulture, Kingpin, and Prowler are before, so now it’s time to cover the others all in one fell swoop! From the Raimi trilogy, we have Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, Harry Osborn, Sandman, and Eddie Brock/Venom; from the Andrew Garfield duology, we have Lizard, Electro, Rhino, and Harry Osborn again; and leftover from Into the Spider-Verse we have Olivia Octavius, Tombstone, Scorpion, and that film’s brief take on Green Goblin! Oh, and why not throw in Riot from Venom while we’re at it, because he sucks way too much to get his own Psycho Analysis.

Motivation/Goals: A lot of villains are motivated by the classic motivation: revenge. All of the Green Goblins manage to have this as a main part of their actions, making them remarkably consistent and very easy to discuss. The Norman of the Raimi films wants to take out his anger at being frozen out of his own company, and his son wants revenge for his death, while the Harry of the Garfield films wants his vengeance because Spider-Man wouldn’t help cure him of his otherwise incurable disaease that would kill him (a fact made worse because Spider-Man is his actual best friend, Peter Parker, who is coldly condemning his pal to death). The only one who doesn’t really fit is the Spider-Verse take on Green Goblin, and that’s more because he has extremely limited screentime and spends all of it fighting Peter and being scary as hell.

Eddie Brock/Venom is a very interesting case as both halves of the character are motivated by different reasons. The symbiote half is, of course, motivated by the fact that Peter has tried to rid himself of it via using a church bell to kill it. Eddie, on the other hand, has the most absolutely hilarious motivation ever: He wants Peter Parker to die because Peter exposed him for submitting fraudulent pictures to J. Jonah Jameson. Eddie literally breached journalistic ethics but apparently Peter’s to blame for exposing his literal, actual crime! And he prays to God for Peter to die! This version of Eddie is cartoonishly hilarious.Finally, we have Max Dillon, AKA Electro, who is lashing out at a world that did nothing but belittle and demean him, giving him a far more sympathetic motive for revenge.

Kurt Connors is an interesting halfway point between the Doc Ocks and the villains above, because he is not really evil and his whole transformation came about for altruistic scientific reasons, as he tested his serum on himself because they were going to test it out on the public without consent. While the serum drives him mad, he initially only goes after those who were going to use his formula with people as guinea pigs.

Interestingly, the two Doc Ocks contrast each other. While both of them are doing evil deeds for scientific reasons, Otto Octavius is being forced by his tentacles and genuinely wishes to make the world a better place otherwise. Olivia, on the other hand, is a gleeful sadist who doesn’t care who she hurts as long as she can get some sort of scientific knowledge from it.

Sandman is interesting case because his motivations are entirely sympathetic and despite being the man who killed Uncle Ben, it was entirely accidental and he always regretted it. He only ever wanted to get money to save his daughter. It’s really hard not to sympathize with a guy who turned to desperate measures because the American health care system sucks even in a universe where a dude dressed in a bright red suit swings around New York.

Then there are all the rest. Aleksei Systevich, AKA Rhino, is just a criminal, and has barely any screentime to establish a motivation beyond that. This is especially hilarious because the ads really hyped this guy up, only for him to get maybe five minutes of screentime, with most of it at the very end of the movie before the credits (we don’t even get to see his final battle). Tombstone and Scorpion are basically just lackeys for Kingpin, with little established beyond that. Scorpion almost shows up entirely out of nowhere, just popping in for the fight at Aunt May’s house and then the final battle. And then there’s Riot, who just wants to start a symbiote apocalypse on Earth.

Performance: Willem Dafoe, Alfred Molina, and Thomas Haden Church as Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, and Sandman in the Raimi trilogy are, in a word, iconic. Dafoe brings a gleeful, cackling hamminess to the Goblin that perfectly suits him and manages to steal every single with how delightfully, cartoonishly evil he is combined with some hilariously chummy moments with Spider-Man. Molina as Ock goes in the opposite direction of hamminess, where instead of making Octavius cartoonishly evil, he gives him this air of gravitas to the point where he somehow manages to make this villain with giant metal tentacles that are controlling his mind come off as sophisticated and serious as Hannibal Lecter. Church meanwhile just looks eerily perfect as Sandman, as if he were ripped straight from the comics and put onscreen, and then of course there’s how well he manages to sell the emotional moments of the character.

The Harrys are a rather mixed bag, sad to say. James Franco and Dennis DeHaan aren’t really bad actors, but they unfortunately have the problem of living in the shadow of the actor who played their dad (Franco) or being in a really awful movie with a terrible script (DeHaan). Franco at least makes up for this by being hilariously, cartoonishly evil to the extent of his dad in the third Raimi film, but DeHaan unfortunately falls rather flat. Topher Grace as Venom is a choice that seems baffling until you realize Raimi cast an actor like this on purpose because he hates Venom so much he didn’t want to give him any dignity.

Jamie Foxx as Electro seems odd at first, but I feel it’s actually a great casting choice, and despite how unbelievably stupid the script is, he’s actually able to do a fairly good job. If his character was in a better movie, he’d probably get a lot less flak (and he’ll be getting his chance soon enough, apparently). Overall, he’s the best part of the Garfield films. Rhys Ifans and Paul Giamatti as Lizard and Rhino are serviceable, but neither film they’re in really gives them much to work with. Giamatti at least gets to steal the show with his brief scenes by being an absolute ham, but Ifans is sadly a bit forgettable in his role (though not for lack of trying on his part).

Now onto the Spider-Verse ensemble! Considering how I gushed over her delightful performance as the Wicked Witch of Westview in WandaVision as well as the fact she is solely responsible for me resurrecting this series from its long hiatus, it should come as no shock at all that Kathryn Hahn as Olivia Octavius is just perfect. Controversial opinion, I know, might get some flak for this hot take. Jorma Taccone as Green Goblin, Joaquin Cosio as Scorpion, and Marvin Jones III as Tombstone all do well for what they’re given, but it’s clear most of the love among Kingpin’s henchmen was given to her (and Prowler, but he got his own review where I talked about how great he is).

Oh, right, Riot. I forgot about him. Riz Ahmed, who plays the human villain Carlton Drake I forgot to mention because he’s incredibly boring, is a really good (and sexy) actor. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to be quite as good and sexy as an actor like him should be in his dual role. In an interesting subversion of how things usually go, he ends up being rather bland compared to the hammy, bonkers hero. This was Tom Hardy’s show, and no one was stealing it from him.

Final Fate: The Raimi films were all made during a time when, if your name wasn’t Magneto and you were a superhero movie villain, you were dying, a trend I’m certainly glad is finally starting to die off. Thankfully, Green Goblin manages to stick around and posthumously influence Harry, so in his case it’s not so bad. Harry and Doc Ock both manage to overcome the darkness in their hearts at the end and sacrifice their lives to help save the day, while Eddie dies after becoming such a simp for the symbiote he leaps into it while Peter is blowing it up. With Sandman, Peter actually has a touching reconciliation with Sandman at the end, forgiving him for the death of Uncle Ben before Sandman dissolves into dust and floats away on the breeze. And no, this is his power, not Thanos’ snap reaching across time, space, and dimensions; Sandman actually gets out of these films alive.

The other villains actually get off easier, as most of them go to jail. From the Amazing Spider-Man films, DeHaan’s Goblin and Rhys Ifan’s Lizard both end up in prison, and it’s safe to assume that the villains of Spider-Verse are going to jail alongside Kingpin. Octavius was hit by a bus, sure, but considering how popular she ended up being it would be really dumb to have that actually kill her. With Electro and Rhino though, it’s really ambiguous, the former because he’s made of electricity and the way he was defeated means it is possible he survived, and the latter because we never actually see the outcome of his battle with Spider-Man. If the film they were in was actually good and warranted sequels, we may have found out what their true fates were, but at the very least Electro is moving over to the MCU alongside Molina’s Doc Ock.

Oh, right, forgot Riot again. He dies.

Best Scene/Best Quote: I’m combining these this time just to make it easier on me, because in at least in a couple cases the two are the same.

Green Goblin has a lot to choose from, to the point where it’s easy to cop out and just say every scene he’s in is amazing. I’ve always been fond of his chummy chat with Spider-Man on the rooftop, or the scene where he terrifies Aunt May, or the scene where he attacks the parade and vaporizes the board of directors with pumpkin bombs.

Dock Ock is easy: the train battle. This might be one of the best action scenes in any superhero movie ever, and since he’s the villain in it, it almost goes without saying..There’s a reason this scene is singled out so often.

youtube

Eddie Brock and DeHaan Goblin actually have their best scenes also be their best lines. Eddie praying for God to kill Peter Parker and DeHaan!Harry screaming “YOU’RE A FRAUD, SPIDER-MAN!” after Spidey refuses to give him a life-saving blood transfusion are just so absolutely hilarious and memorable that you can’t hate them.

Aside from the powerful forgiveness moment at the film’s end, I think it’s really indisputable that the best scene from Sandman, and perhaps the Raimi trilogy as a whole, is the scene of Sandman’s creation. Words really can’t do it justice, so just watch:

youtube

Electro’s best moment isn’t even actually part of the movie, unless you want to count his rendition of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” No, his is from a Tumblr post, proving definitively that Electro’s power can not be contained.

For Olivia, I’d say either of the reveals for her are great. You can go with the twist that she’s the Doc Ock of Miles’ universe, or the twist that she might have fucked Aunt May. Either way, you can’t really go wrong.

The rest of the villains… yeah, I’ve got nothing. At least with Rhino you can say his entire time on screen was fun, but the rest? Nope. They’re kind of just there.

Final Thoughts & Score:

Green Goblin

Where to begin with this guy? He is everything I look for in a great villain: he’s hammy and cartoonish, he can be terrifying and threatening when he wants to be, he has a ridiculous yet memorable costume, every word out of his mouth is hilarious and memorable, and he’s played by an amazing actor. It’s hard to dispute that Doc Ock is the best villain in Raimi’s trilogy, but Goblin is definitely the most fun. If you thought he’d get less than a 10/10, you thought wrong.

Doctor Octopus

Aside from Green Goblin, Doc Ock is Spidey’s most iconic and memorable foe, nd this adaptation of him does not disappoint. By making him a more tragic and somewhat anti-villainous figure and putting him in the hands of someone as awesome and talented as Alfred Molina, they managed to make such a cartoonish villain retain that comic book silliness while still being a legitimately imposing antagonist. I suppose it helps that a director who knows how to balance silly and serous like Raimi helps. It’s absolutely not a shock that the MCU wants to bring Molina back, because really, I can’t see anyone making the dubious doctor nearly as cool as the 10/10 performance Molina gave.

Harry Osborn

Franco’s Harry has an interesting arc, but one that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense under scrutiny. Frankly, his descent into villain is handled well but when he actually gets to be a villain in the third film, things fall apart.. But at any rate, he gets to be cartoonishly hilarious while he pettily ruins Peter’s life, so I think a 3/10 is warranted just for how goofy he is.

Eddie Brock/Venom

For the longest time, I hated Eddie Brock, but loved the Venom symbiote for its fantastic design… A design hampered by the fact Topher Grace keeps sticking his face through the symbiote and talking in his normal voice. But then one day I remembered Eddie literally prays to God for Peter Parker to die, and I realize that as crappy as this version of Venom is, he’s undoubtedly hilarious. A 3/10 mainly because of how hilariously bad he is, though the design of the symbiote is unironically great. Shame Grace kept sticking his face through and that Raimi hates the character.

Sandman

Sandman is a villain who deserved a better movie. Sure, Spider-Man 3 is fun and funny, but a character with this much depth and emotional weight deserved a film of the caliber of Spider-Man 2. At any rate, he adds a bit of class and dignity to the proceedings, and Thomas Haden Church really nails it. He’s a 9/10 for sure.

Lizard

Lizard is just a very boring villain, which is a shame because Lizard is not a boring villain in the comics and other media like the cartoons. I don’t really know if he was the best choice for Spider-Man’s first outing; I’ll at least give him that he’s a more inspired choice than doing the Green Goblin again, but that doesn’t score him higher than a 4/10. As boring as he ends up being, that library fight was pretty cool and had a great Stan Lee cameo, so I can’t say he’s the bottom of the barrel.

Electro

Electro is a villain who desperately deserved a better movie. While his backstory as a nerdy fanboy who got kicked around by the world is nothing new, or fresh, or original, Jamie Foxx manages to make the character work fairly well even though almost everything around him is unbelievably stupid. The fact he managed to make “Don’t you know? I’m Electro” sound cool and badass is a testament to his skill, and thankfully he’s coming back in the MCU in some way, so I guess Electro’s power can not be contained to a single movie. Still, this iteration only manages to get to a 6/10, because while all the elements of greatness are there, he’s hampered by the abysmal writing.

Rhino

Paul Giamatti certainly looks like he’s having a blast here. His attitude is almost infectious, but alas, his time is too brief to bring any great joy, and his jarring appearance out of nowhere at the end of the film certainly do him no favors. Still, Giamatti keeps Rhino from sinking any lower than a 5/10.

Harry Osborn

This Harry is just a joke. His arc makes no sense, his actions are unbelievable, and he ends up looking like a really poor Warwick Davis Leprechaun cosplayer. The only thing of note about him is that he’s a Harry who becomes the Green Goblin before his father, something that doesn’t happen very often, and that’s not enough to score this loser higher than a 2/10. Not even killing Gwen Stacy makes him any more impressive, and that’s a real shame.

Olivia Octavius

Olivia Octavius is widely beloved by just about everyone who sees the film.. myself included. This is just a really fun, clever twist on Doctor Octopus, and it’s the sort of character you really hope gets a Harley Quinn-level break into becoming an iconic character across multiple forms of media. Kathryn Hahn’s fun performance and the wonderful design and fight sequences really make Olivia a 9/10.

Tombstone

Tombstone is a villain you might actually forget is in the movie, which is a damn shame. He’s an albino black man, a badass bodyguard, and has a striking design, but he gets a single line of dialogue and is tasked with bodyguarding a man who not only has cyborgs under his employ, but who murdered Spider-Man with his bare hands. Tombstone ultimately feels really superfluous, which is a shame because around the same time Into the Spider-Verse came out he had a very memorable and well-liked appearance in the Spider-Man video game. It’s a real shame but I gotta give this version of Tombstone a 2/10.

Scorpion

Scorpion has a lot of problems of Tombstone above, but he makes up for a lot of his flaws by having a really cool and striking design. Does it really make him a great villain? No. He’s not particularly well-characterized and he’s really just there to look cool and give Olivia backup. He’s a 4/10 at best, saved from being lower only by his awesome look. Looking cool really can get you far in some cases.

Green Goblin

Out of all the really minor villains in Spider-Verse, this version of Norman might be the best. His role is tiny, only appearing during the scene where the Peter Parker of Miles’ universe gets killed, but his battle with Spider-Man is what sets the entire plot in motion. His cool and terrifying design definitely help make him stand out enough to earn at least a 6/10.

Riot & Carlton Drake

Look, there’s a reason I kept forgetting these guys. They’re not memorable in the slightest. Venom may be a fantastic work of art, but that’s because Tom Hardy kills it in his dual role as Eddie Brock and the Venom symbiote. Drake is just a boring corporate villain, the kind I hate talking about and the kind I’d only ever even bother mentioning in a review like this. And Riot is just a generic Big Gray CGI Monster for the hero to have a final battle with. Neither of these two are particularly interesting, and neither deserves more than a 2/10.

That’s it, right? There can’t be any more villains, I must have covered them all. Well, not quite. There’s one more character who is most certainly an antagonist and who I really, really want to talk about. And you’re absolutely not going to believe who it is.

You ready?

Psycho Analysis: Emo Peter

“Now wait,” you may be asking, “Emo Peter? Really? How does he count as a villain?” Well, as Schafrillas pointed out in his video on Spider-Man 3, Emo Peter is actually the antagonist for much of the second act. Peter, influenced by the symbiote, becomes a raging jackass and hurts and alienates everyone around him by being a colossal douchebag, not to mention how violent he gets as Spider-Man. This is very much an extreme case of the hero’s greatest enemy being themselves, because literally, Peter’s enemy in the chunk of the movie with Emo Peter is his own overinflated ego

Motivation/Goals: I mean, at the end of the day, it’s still Peter. He still wants to do the typical Peter Parker stuff, he’s just a jackass while he does it.

Performance: It’s Tobey Maguire busting loose and getting to act like an absolute doofus. There is literally nothing about this that isn’t amazing and I’m sorry if you can’t see it.

Final Fate: Peter eventually comes to realize that maybe the symbiote making him act like an egomaniacal tool is not a good thing, and so rebels against it, ultimately leading him to the roof of a church where Eddie Brock is praying for him to die and, well, the rest is history.

Best Scene:

Best Dance Move:

Final Thoughts & Score: Emo Peter has gotten a bad reputation over the years, but Schafrillas’ video really made me rethink why. As he puts it, Emo Peter comes off not as someone cool, but as what a loser thinks a cool person would be (which makes him still a loser). It seems fairly likely that the audience isn’t supposed to be rooting for Emo Peter or finding him cool, but instead finding him insufferable, ridiculous, and funny. We’re supposed to be laughing at Peter’s egomania, at his absurd and hammy showboating, not cheering him on and desiring to emulate him.

And that ultimately makes it more satisfying when Peter overcomes his ego and decides to rid himself of the symbiote. It might seem like I’m giving Spider-Man 3 a lot of credit here, but even Sam Raimi half-assing a movie wouldn’t leave things completely devoid of underlying brilliance. Emo Peter isn’t a villain in the sense that he’s some superpowered antagonist, he’s a physical representation of the negative impacts of fame and ego on Peter. This is Peter letting go of what makes him a hero and just reveling in being an absolute jerkwad to everyone around him.

I love the memes as much as everyone else of course, but Emo Peter is also a pretty clever symbolic foe. But even though I’m giving him an 8/10, we all know the real reason why he’s scoring so high:

Ok, but that’s it now, right? No more Spider-Man villains? Well, maybe for now. But don’t forget:

There’s gonna be Carnage.

17 notes · View notes

stardust-walker · 4 years ago

Text

High Hopes

word count: 4014

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 4

The weirdest thing is that a few months ago, Dove wouldn’t think that listening to kids running and playing would sound as sweet as it did.

A small chuckle escaped her as she sat on the steps leading into Dale’s RV. The horrified look on Glenn’s face as he stopped mid-greeting was just as amusing.

“Well. Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Dove squinted as she stood up and moved to stand next to him.

“When did they start tearing it apart,” Glenn frowned as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Dove shrugged her shoulders, “’Bout a half an hour ago, I suppose.” She ran a hand through her dark hair as she turned her head slightly. Rick was finally awake again. Dove raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she greeted the newcomer. “Mornin’, Rick!”

“Go on! Tear it apart, you vultures.” Glenn scowled and shook his head. Dove couldn’t keep herself from letting out a snort of laughter.

“Generators need every drop of fuel they can get,” Dale stated matter-of-factly as he walked past them.

“He has a fair point. I’d rather have a shower than a fancy car,” Dove mumbled quietly.

“I thought I’d get to drive it another few days,” Glenn sighed.

Dove turned her head slightly as Rick responded, “Maybe we’ll get to steal another one someday.”

This new way of living sure was a hell of a thing when you had a sheriff encouraging grand theft auto.

Dove placed a comforting hand on Glenn’s shoulder, “Maybe an even nicer one! One that’s not going to send an alarm running for miles next time too.” Glenn just let out an annoyed sigh.

Glenn seemed to be resigned to the fact that his car was being torn apart by Jim. Dove patted his shoulder again as she watched him step forward to converse with the other man. Knowing him, he was still probably trying to talk about what a cool car it was to anyone who would listen.

A revving engine caught the attention of a few members of the camp as Shane pulled up. He announced, “Make sure to boil the water before use.”

Carol made her way over to Dove. “Too bad about Glenn’s car, huh?”

The response caught in Dove’s throat as a shrill scream erupted from the woods close by, followed by another voice screaming “Mom!!”

A panicked look was exchanged between the sisters for a moment and then they were both off. Carol screamed for Sophia and the relief was obvious on Dove’s face as the little girl broke through the trees with Carl hot on her heels.

Tiny arms wrapped themselves around her waist as Dove knelt quickly to survey her niece for any marks. “Are you alright, Soph? Nothing bit you?” Sophia shook her head quickly, only able to muster up a panicked whimper. Carol finally broke through the trees behind her and let out a relieved cry as Sophia released her aunt with a cry of, “Mommy!!”

Dove glanced around quickly before she pointed back towards camp. “Take them back now! I’m just gonna make sure everything’s alright!” Carol nodded her head and scooped Sophia up.

Lori, however, eyed her warily for a moment before the brunette disappeared into the tree line again.

As she broke through the trees she held back a hysterical laugh. They were just stood around the damn thing, beating it with sticks. So much for being evolved past a caveman brain.

Amy let out a disgusted groan as the walkers head was finally chopped off.

Dale muttered, “That’s the first one we’ve had out here.”

Jim replied, “They must be running out of food in the city.”

Dove looked over at Amy and Andrea. Both of the sisters were just looking on like a couple of deer in the headlights and she couldn’t blame them. She felt a little nauseous herself.

Branches snapped in the woods and all conversation stopped. Andrea put a protective arm around Amy and Dove took a slow step forward towards the men. Curiosity was a bitch of a thing, but she wanted to see what exactly was going to happen.

Her heart leapt into her throat and plummeted back to her stomach as Daryl Dixon came into view. Her eyes locked with Jim’s in a moment of panic before she quickly looked down at her feet. Honestly, she would rather have a walker run out of the woods right now than have to face the inevitable.

Daryl looked pissed already. Definitely a good sign for them. “That was my deer. Look at it! All gnawed on by this filthy, disease ridden, motherless, proxy bastard!”

Dale shook his head in disgust, “Now come on, son. That’s not helping anyone.”

Daryl’s temper flared up again as he stepped quickly over the walker, headed right for Dale. Dove took a quick step closer to Rick as she eyed the officer, trying to communicate that this was not a good sign. “What do you know about it, old man? Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘on golden pond’?”

A surprised laugh, which was able to be quickly covered up as a cough escaped Dove’s lips. Glenn elbowed her slightly in the side and narrowed his eyes once he had her attention. The woman merely shrugged as she turned her attention back to the dead animal. Her stomach did begin to rumble at the thought of venison, or anything other than squirrels for that matter. A sigh left her lips as Shane stated, “I wouldn’t risk that.”

Daryl’s focus drifted to her, almost asking for another opinion. Dove shrugged her shoulders before she slipped her hands into her back pockets, “As good as it sounds, it’s too risky. We got kids to think about and what if they eat tainted meat? Get sick?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head, “Damn shame. I got a few squirrels though. ‘Bout a dozen or so. That’ll have to do.” The calmness in the air broke as the walker head at her feet started snapping its jaw again. Dove let out a startled shriek and stumbled back into Glenn as Daryl shot an arrow into it’s brain. “Gotta be the brain. Don’t ya’ know nothin?”

The focus of the group shifted again as Daryl stalked off towards camp. Dale looked startled, “I don’t see this going well.”

Shane removed the hat from his head as the group started to walk, Dove started to take longer strides to keep up with the two officers. She heard Shane mention Daryl’s name and spoke up.

“I think you guys really need to think about doing this,” Dove spoke, concern in her voice. “I think you oughta try and break it to him as gently as possible. People like him tend to react violently, plus he seems pretty hyped up from losing that deer.”

The two men kept moving, but Rick glanced over his shoulder at her. “What’d you do before this?”

“I was a therapist. Getting ready to work on my PhD. Why?”

She didn’t miss the look the two men exchanged and fell back a step. Glenn flinched as he heard Daryl yell for Merle. “This is gonna be a shit show,” Glenn sighed.

Dove shook her head as Shane stopped Daryl in his tracks. “Poor guy. I got money on Dixon, though. He’s a scrapper.” She whispered so only Glenn could hear. Glenn let out a nervous chuckle as the two of them came to a stop next to the Jeep.

“There was a problem in Atlanta.” Seriously, Dove thought, he’s going to drag it out like this? What a mess.

“He dead?” Dove gripped Glenn’s wrist a little tighter than she meant to as she took a step closer to him.

“We’re not sure.”

“He either is or he ain’t!” Dove couldn’t really blame him for being so angry. She could only imagine how mad she would be if it were Carol on that roof. She would probably be trying to kick the ass of anyone she could find.

“No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” Rick stated as he finally took a step forward. What a time to play good cop, bad cop.

Rick introduced himself, only to be met with, “Rick Grimes, you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal,” Rick finished. Damn, she had to admire how he got right to the point about it. “He’s still there.”

Daryl started pacing like a caged animal. “Hold on. Let me process this. You’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?” Daryl shouted. Dove could feel her pulse quickening as a million and one ways that she was trained to de-escalate someone this angry ran through her head. None of them seemed to make any sense right now under the heat from the burning Atlanta sun.

The next few seconds were a blur. Daryl yelled, Dove let out a startled yelp as the squirrels flew towards her, she stepped back closer to Glenn, and just like that, Daryl was on the ground. T-Dog stepped forward, shouting something about a knife. Dove took a few slow steps forward, eyes wide as saucers as she watched Shane bring him down in a chokehold after a few swings of a knife.

“Chokeholds illegal,” Daryl managed to choke out.

Shane sounded too comfortable with it for Dove’s liking. “Yeah, well, file a complaint.” Dove argued with herself internally as she watched Daryl keep struggling to be let go.

Rick knelt in front of the other two men, clearly trying to calm the situation down. “I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic.”

Dove scowled as she squatted down between the two officers. “Not to tell you how to do your job, but it’s awful hard to have a calm discussion with a man whose air supply is being cut off,” she finished through gritted teeth.

Rick glanced at her and nodded before he turned back to Daryl, “You think we can manage that?”

The two officers nodded at each other and Dove stood up quickly as Daryl finally got released. She watched for a moment, still in shock about what just happened, when she saw Daryl still trying to catch his breath as he pointed at Shane. Dove turned quickly and placed a hand on Shane’s arm. “Just back up, man. Rick’s got it. You don’t need to be bad cop right now,” she pushed him back gently before she walked past the other two men, joining Lori by the steps to the RV.

“You good,” the other woman asked, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of her.

“Yeah just adrenaline rush. I’m fine,” Dove nodded as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. She turned her head slightly and met Carol’s worried gaze through the window of the RV. Dove held her hand up and nodded her head.

“It’s not Rick’s fault,” T-Dog interjected and suddenly the focus was on him. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

Daryl snapped again, “You couldn’t pick it up?”

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.” Dove couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this. This just sounded worse and worse the more they tried to explain it to him. At least no one was dead yet.

Her heart sank as she folded her arms in front of her chest, her focus shifted with everyone else’s as the men moved slowly around camp. She knew that Daryl and his brother were close but, shit. She didn’t expect to see him cry for even a second. One of her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she looked down at her feet.

She wasn’t surprised when Daryl shouted. “Hell with all y’all. Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get em.”

What truly shocked her was Lori. The older woman spoke up from her spot by the door at this. “He’ll show you. Won’t you?” She almost insisted with just her words as she locked eyes with her husband.

Dove was torn between following Lori back into the RV or following after Rick as the conflict came to a close. She, instead, chose to check on Carol and Sophia. Her steps were quiet as she walked up the steps to the RV. Dove slid into the seat at the table opposite of her family and reached a hand out to stroke Sophia’s arm. “Hey, bug. You were real brave out there today,” Dove spoke softly as Sophia lifted her head from her mother’s arms.

Sophia sniffled and rubbed her eyes before she looked between the two sisters. “I was really scared,” the young girl whispered.

Dove smiled a little and nodded her head. “I was too, bug. But you did the right thing by runnin like that. Hell, I don’t think either of us knew you could run that fast!” Carol chuckled softly at this as she stroked the young girl’s hair.

“She’s right, Sophia. You kept yourself safe. That was the right thing to do.” Carol kissed the top of her daughter’s forehead before she whispered for her to do something that sounded a lot like ‘go check on Carl’.

Dove drummed her fingers on the table as her thoughts raced through her head. Carol’s voice finally pulled her out of her own head. “You want to go with them, don’t you.” Carol stated in a hushed voice.

Dove’s eyes shot up. Her hazel eyes widened a little bit as she felt color rush to her cheeks. “I…I was thinking about it.”

Carol clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I don’t want my sister out there dyin’ for someone like Merle Dixon.” Her voice didn’t raise above a whisper, though she didn’t sound pleased at all.

Dove rolled her eyes at this. “That’s not what I was thinking of!”

“Then what were you…”

Dove cut her older sister off as she reached out and took her hand, “What if that was me up there, huh? Or you? Would you want me to just leave you up there like that to die?” Dove hissed. “It’s the right thing to do, Carol. Merle or not, it’s the right thing to do.”

Carol’s eyes widened slightly as she took in her sister’s words and nodded her head slowly. “If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you. But I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to be explaining to Sophia why her aunt isn’t around anymore.”

A small smirk graced Dove’s face as she squeezed Carol’s hand gently. “Oh please. I’m always careful.”

It was Carol’s turn to roll her eyes as Dove rose from her seat, kissed her older sister on the top of her head, and descended the stairs out of the RV.

Dove looked around camp before spotting Daryl by the fire. She took a long deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before trudging forward. “Hey, you alright?” Dumb question.

“What kinda stupid question is that,” Daryl snapped at her.

Dove raised both her hands in front of her, a tired expression on her face. “Right. Guess I deserved that, it was pretty fucking stupid huh.”

Daryl just stared at her for a moment. He had the type of eyes that made her uneasy sometimes; eyes that could stare right into your soul if you’d let them. “What do you want?”

Dove let out a heavy sigh as she watched Carol approach her laundry station out of the corner of her eye. She stood up a little straighter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I wanna go with you and Rick. Try to bring back Merle. I figure the more people, the better. Plus, y’all might need someone to balance out all the testosterone in that car.”

Daryl stared at her again for a few seconds before scoffing at her. “Don’t need no one else out there, especially not you. Can you even shoot a gun?”

Dove grinded her teeth together as she nodded her head slowly. “Well, excuse me. I may not know how to shoot a gun but I am just as capable as Andrea and Jacqui and they go out into the city all the time! Give me a blunt object and I can take out any walker just as good as a gun, I bet.” Her hands were shaking as she unfolded her arms and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“Alright.” Daryl turned his attention from her.

Dove’s jaw almost dropped in shock as she stood still. “Excuse me?”

Daryl turned back to face her, eyes narrowed slightly. “You heard me, girl. You’re grown, you wanna go? Can’t stop ya. Just don’t expect to get your ass saved.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t,” a serene smile was on Dove’s face now.

Shane would definitely have to learn to hold his tongue if they were going to bring Merle back as he called Merle a “douchebag”.

Daryl pointed at the man, “Hey, you better watch what you say!”

Shane nodded his head all sincerely before uttering, “No no. Douchebag’s what I meant.”

Dove rolled her eyes and brought the palms of her hands up to rub her eyes, “Dear god what did I do to deserve this.”

Lori spoke up from her seat by what would be that night’s fire. “So what? You and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Carol eyed Dove for a moment before the group’s attention shifted to Glenn. “Oh come on!”

Rick spoke, “You know the way. You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem! You said so yourself.” He was right. Glenn wasn’t shy about telling everyone in the group how well he knew the city and he had dug his own grace.

“That’s just great. Now you’re gonna risk three men?” Shane scoffed.

T-Dog spoke up next, “Four.”

Daryl scoffed, “My day just gets better and better, don’t it?”

Dove rolled her eyes, “Might as well get this out of the way now and make it five.”

Dale glanced between them all and nodded his head. “That’s five.”

Shane shook his head and began to pace a little bit. “You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. C’mon. You saw that walker! It was here. It was in camp,” Shane lectured. “They come back, we need every able body we’ve got. We need em to protect camp.”

Rick nodded his head, “Sounds to me like what you need is more guns.”

Dove’s head was spinning. Sophia shuffled her feet as Dove walked over to them. She knelt in front of the girl, taking her hands in her as the others talked about the guns. “Now you listen to me, alright? I’m gonna be just fine! I promise. I always am. But I need you to promise me something too okay?”

Sophia nodded her head and listened intently. “I need you to look out for your mama until I get back, okay? Just make sure everything’s alright. Hold down the fort for me. Promise?” She released Sophia’s hands and held a pinky out to her.

Sophia locked her pinky with her aunt’s before she wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. “Be safe.”

Dove kissed her niece on the forehead before standing up and brushing off her knees. “Be safe, Carol.” Dove hugged her sister tightly before she turned to see what was going on.

Dove lifted herself into the back of the van, her eyes were beginning to glaze over from boredom as she waited before she almost leapt out of her skin at the sound of a horn honking. From the driver’s seat, Glenn let out a startled shout as Daryl stepped on the horn again. “C’mon let’s go!”

Dove rubbed her temples and muttered to herself before placing a hand on the crowbar that she’d managed to sweet talk out of Jim. She would definitely have to make sure that she made it back now.

The young woman blew a kiss to her family as the door to the back of the van was slammed shut and they pulled away.

It was oddly silent on the way to the city. Dove positioned herself so she could see out the front windshield. “This is the first time I’ve left camp in the past two months.” She whispered to Glenn and Rick.

Rick turned his head, a sympathetic look on his face. “You might not want to look until we get there, then. Might be a bit of a shock. Trust me on that one.”

Dove took in the man’s words for a moment before she turned and faced the back of the van again.

Daryl finally spoke up for the first time since they started on the road. “He best be alright.”

T-Dog sighed. “The only thing that’s getting through that door is us. He’s fine.”

The van finally lurched to a stop and Glenn called back, “We walk from here.”

Dove groaned as she pulled herself to her feet and hopped out of the back of the van. “Oh shit, I’m getting old.” She mumbled to T-Dog as he hopped down next to her.

T-Dog shook his head at her. “You’re getting old? Just wait ‘til you hit 30.”

Dove laughed quietly as she took off down the train tracks after the rest of the group.

Rick paused as they stepped through a space in the gate that led from the tracks to the road. “Merle first or guns?”

Daryl snapped. “Merle! We ain’t even havin this conversation.”

Dove shook her head and motioned towards Daryl with her free hand, the other still tightly gripping the crowbar. “I’m with him on this. I mean a human life or ammo?”

Rick stared at both of them, clearly trying to keep his cool “We are having this conversation. You know the geography, it’s your call.” He turned to Glenn as the group began to walk.

“Merle’s closest. The guns would mean doubling back.” Glenn stated and Dove wasn’t sure if he was lying or not, but she was grateful for that nonetheless.

Her hazel eyes seemed to take in everything that had happened to Atlanta as they walked through the city. The city she had worked in and know so well was practically gone in a matter of weeks. It made her chest feel tight to see everything, but she knew she couldn’t stop moving.

She stepped lightly into the department store behind T-Dog and in front of Glenn as she went. She stopped, crowbar raised as a walker made it’s way through the aisles of the store. Daryl didn’t waste any time shooting the thing through the head.

Glenn moved forward and directed them to a staircase. It was a lot farther up than it looked, or maybe she was out of shape, but the steps were seeming to take their toll on her as they worked their way towards the roof.

The men reached the last landing as Dove rounded the corner just a few steps behind them. She took the last few steps slowly as she watched Daryl kick the door open after the chain was finally cut.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She observed as she ran up the last few steps out onto the roof with the others. Merles Dixon was not a quiet man and he surely would’ve reacted to a door being kicked the fuck open.

Daryl’s screams for his brother turned into screams of panic. Dove’s heart dropped as she stepped out onto the roof behind Glenn and she saw it. A hand flew up to cover her mouth as she fought back the urge to vomit. Merle’s hand laid there on the ground next to a bloody hacksaw but Merle Dixon the man was gone.

@crossbowking

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl DIxon fic #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x oc #daryl x reader #carol peletier #The Walking Dead #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #my writing

13 notes · View notes

sulfurousdreamscapes · 4 years ago

Text

She insisted on the route that went right through the battlefield. The cart driver thought she was crazy, but she was willing to part with her entire wallet just for the trip. That is how she found herself tracing the grass as it turned from green to red.

It had been a massacre, she concluded. There were men in bits of armour and tattered rags, helping each other onwards. They glanced at her as she rode past them. One of the men had a wound in his thigh, and it was so wide that it was clear he wasn't going to make it.

"Don't let me down, please," he kept squealing. His eyes were wincing so hard, and when he opened them, it looked as if they'd pop out of his skull.

"We're not going to let you down," his comrade replied.

"If you let me down, I'll haunt you when I'm dead, I swear it on my life."

"You're not going to die, because I'm not going to let you down."

A while later, she looked back, and the soldier had sunk to his knee and he howled and cried so loudly. The others talked amongst themselves, and then they left the wounded soldier behind.

In the distance, the white tents with the swallowtail flags billowed in the wind. The living dragged carts containing the dead. The dead often slipped into the mud.

Her cart driver dared not look left or right. There was never any good to see in a battlefield, he'd told her. "Best look on straight ahead."

Further ahead, where the melee had actually taken place, bodies lay where they had been felled. The vultures feasted.

"There," she said, pointing into the midst of the battlefield, where the red had stained the ground so thoroughly that it looked like scenery from hell.

"What's there, miss?" the cart driver asked.

"Take me there."

The cart driver reluctantly turned off of the path and towards where she had pointed. At a point, she asked the driver to stop, and she got off of the cart.

Without a care for how her dress was getting stained by the blood of men she never knew, she approached a man struggling to breathe, struggling to stand up. A sword lay wedged into his leg, and his face was covered in tears, sweat, blood, and grime.

She held his head and shushed him, and he was convinced that this was an angel, a valkyrie come to take him away. When his eyes focused, he realised who she was. In that moment, it was as if he had forgotten all about the blade in his leg.

She stood up, pressed on his leg with her foot, and pulled the sword out. His screams drew the nearby vultures away. She held the sword up, watching the blood slide off of its metal and drip onto the armour and cloth below.

"Please, no," the man said. "I'm so sorry."

She did not hesitate. The sword came straight down, and she made sure there would be no room for error.

50 notes · View notes

steves-on-a-plane · 4 years ago

Text

The Safest Hands

*Slight Spoiler* For Falcon And The Winter Soldier Words: 1383 Pairing: Former!Sam Wilson x Reader Summary: Reader is the Eldest daughter of Tony Stark and the former fiancé of Sam Wilson. After the government announces its plans for Captain America, Reader pulls together the best plan she can manage to get the shield back. Author’s Note: I’m loving everything that's happening so far with TFAWS, and it gave me the idea for this fic where Reader is a lawyer who tries to say Steve had no legal right to the shield.

Courtrooms are nothing but theaters with bad actors in cheap suits. That was the first piece of advice your father had given you when you told him you wanted to become a lawyer. You were surprised by how true that turned out to be. Not so much the part about the suits being cheap, but the theatrical side of it for sure. You always tried your best not to play into the theatrics, unless it was the last resort.

Sure as hell hope this works. You thought as you shuffled papers at your table. You’d been in the courtroom for almost an hour. It seemed crazy to you that Supreme Court cases were decided so quickly. While corporate trials lasted weeks or sometimes months, the fate of a historic mantle would be decided in less than ninety minutes. You drank a sip of water from the glass in front of you. It was warm and tasted metallic, like someone had filtered it through pennies. You took a measured breath and waited for your turn to speak.

“So, as you can see by the evidence provided,” You began your closing statement. “Captain America’s iconic shield never legally transferred to Captain Steven Rogers. When Howard Stark passed, ownership of the shield was moved to the beneficiary of his estate, Mr. Stark’s only son, Anthony Stark. While under Anthony’s ownership the shield was stored in various facilities including being on loan to S.H.I.E.L.D. for several decades. Sometime in 2011, the shield was then loaned indefinity to Captain Rogers as shown in the asset transfer form submitted to the court. This form was signed by Captain Rogers, Nicholas J Fury and Anthony Stark. However, Captain Rogers terminated any rights to the shield following his refusal to sign the Sokovian Accords, as the original terms of the loan stated the shield would be reclaimed by Mr. Stark in the event the weapon was linked to a known crime in anyway. Therefor it stands to reason that since Captain Rogers had no legal right to the shield, he could not legally gift the shield to Mr. Samuel Wilson. Since Mr. Wilson was also not the legal owner of the shield, he could not legally donate it to the Smithsonian museum, which the government has since claimed the shield from. Rightfully, that shield belongs to the estate of Mr. Anthony Stark.”

“Thank you for those impassioned words, Ms. Stark.” The Chief Justice remarked. His tone was condescending, but you weren’t quite sure if that was intentional. “We thank you for your time as the court knows how personal this case is for you. We must hear our next case now. I expect you’ll have your answer following our next conference.”

With that the trial was over. There was nothing more you could do but wait for the justices to confer and deliver their opinion. You began gathering your things and exiting the court room. You’d presented every shred of evidence you could find. Proof that legally the shield had never transferred fully into Steve’s possession. Proof that Stark Industries still held pattens on all previous versions of the shield as well as several prototypes. Your father’s company or his estate also maintained pattens on every iteration of the Captain America Uniform. You could stop them from creating a new Captain America in everything but name.

You’d barely exited the Supreme Court Building when your phone rang. Sam Wilson’s name scrawled across the screen. You heaved a deep sigh, wishing this whole ordeal was over with already. You ignored Sam’s call, too preoccupied with dodging the press who were swarming around you. You gaze in the distance, relieved when you saw a familiar face. Happy Hogan met you at the base of the steps and helped you int the backseat of the car. You secured your seatbelt as he slipped behind the steering wheel and drove away.

“They were live streaming the courtroom.” He told you, not looking away from the road.

“Of course, they were. Vultures.” You complained, as you watched the reporters get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

“Can you really blame them? The whole country wants to see how this ends.” Happy told you.

“Wish it was over already.” You mumbled from the backseat. You answered a text from Pepper, asking if you were okay. You assured her that you were fine and that you’d been seeing here and Morgan soon. You just had a few things in DC that needed tying up. Again, your phone began to ring. It was Sam. You silenced it before tossing it across the seat.

“You know he’d be proud of you, Kiddo. They both would be.” He assured you.

“If they weren’t both so stubborn, they’d still be here. Not leaving me to fight their battles for them. Which for the record, I stayed away from the tech industry specifically so that I wouldn’t turn into my father and…GAh!” You couldn’t help but let out a small exclamation of frustration. “Here I am throwing around the family name and exploiting thin as ice legal loopholes to get the stupid shield back! A shield that Sam was at best too humble and at worst too stupid to keep. Even if you don’t use it, man, just do the one thing you know Steve would have wanted and keep it away from the government! Aside from the fact that it’s classified as a deadly weapon, the thing’s got enough vibranium to buy you a decent house. Or If you want to give it to a government don’t give it to ours! Bring it to T’challa….”

You phone was now vibrating loudly as it skidded across the car’s leather back seat. You took a brief pause from your rant and finally answered the phone. You didn’t even bother looking at the caller ID. Only one person had been blowing up your phone all morning.

“What, Wilson?” You snapped at him.

“Hey, Baby, nice to hear your voice too. Long time no see.” He cackled from the other side of the line. You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled a deep breath.

“Sam, now’s not a good time…” You told him.

“C’mon you’ve been dodging my calls all morning.” His tone finally changed to something serious.

“You didn’t think that was for a reason?” You snapped.

“Oh, I know the reason. You think I’m going to ask you about the trial.” He laughed.

“Aren’t you?” You sighed.

“Nah I saw the whole thing on TV.” He assured you. “You look great by the way, very Stark-like.”

“Yeah, well the hot rod red power suit probably did most of the leg work there.” You sighed. “What do you want Sam? Happy and I are on our way to the hotel.”

“Any chance you want to join me for dinner?” He asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together. I’m suing you remember?” You reminded him.

“So we just make sure no one sees us.” You could practically hear him shrugging. “Besides you’re only technically suing me. Once all the dust settles with the federal case we get to pretend we agreed to something outside of court. Then everything goes back to normal and you don’t have to pretend you’re mad at me anymore.”

“Let me be clear about something, I’m not pretending to be mad at you. I’m furious.” You told him sternly. “This isn’t like the time you bleached my favorite shirt. I’m not just going to get over it. You really messed this one up, Sam. I’m not fighting this fight for you and we’re lucky we didn’t go through with that proposal of yours, because if we were married right now, I’d have no hope at all of getting that shield back.

“It won’t kill you to say that you missed me too, [Y/N].” He said.

“I miss a lot of things Sam.” You told him. “But not all of us have the luxury of walking away from a legacy. Stark out.” You ended the call and tossed your phone again.

Everything’s gonna workout exactly the way it’s supposed to. Your father’s final words echoed in your head as you stare at the window.

“Probably not this time, Old Man.” You whispered to yourself.

#tfaws spoilers #TFAWS #TFAWS Fan Fiction #TFAWS Fan Fic #TFAWS FF #Sam Wilson #Daughter!Stark #Fan Fiction #FF #Fan Fic #Reader Insert

12 notes · View notes

notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

Text

Loyalty and Love (Police Officer!Jae-ha x Shy!Reader x Military Officer!Kija)

Warning: harassment

Words: 2.4k

"Come on, girlie, gimmie a smile!"

You were getting harassed by this guy who would not get a clue, letting hair fall into your face as you increased your walking speed. But he was persistent and chased you through the streets of traffic. Your trembling hands fumbled with your phone, trying desperately to press the speed dial for one of your two partners to come and save you when it slipped through your fingers.

The screen shattered upon impact with the concrete and cold dread set in the pit of your stomach as alcohol-laced breath panted against your neck.

Scrambling away, you tried to employ what Jae-ha had taught you to do in a situation like this, but the man overpowered you easily, twisting your wrist as you went to jab him in the eyes. His eyes narrowed and he sneered at you.

You shied away from him as he stuck his face close to yours, silent but clearly terrified. No matter how much you struggled, he pinned your wrists above your head, avoiding your poorly-aimed kicks to his groin to get him off of you.

Then, all of the sudden, the pressure was gone.

A stream of white hair crossed your vision and your eyes widened in shock.

Kija scoffed in disgust as he shoved the man off of you, lip curling back in a snarl. "Refrain from touching her if you desire to keep your head attached to your shoulders."

He acted as a wall between you and him, hands planted firmly on his hips as his broad shoulders blocked you from his view.

You fell back with a squeak as another hand tugged your wrist and you twisted to look up at your rescuer. Mouth dropping in astonishment, you exclaimed, "Jae-ha?!"

His beautiful, violet eyes had gone black with fury and his jaw was clenched as he tried to hold himself back from losing his temper in front of you.

The thing was, neither one of them were supposed to be here. Jae-ha had patrol on the opposite side of the city and Kija was supposed to be out of town until this weekend. How they managed to get there so fast was beyond you, but you were incredibly grateful they arrived when they did.

On the flip side, you had never seen either of them this livid before.

If you were the man, you would've done the smart thing and fled the scene, but no. He just had to take it a step further despite the fuming men beside you.

"Police!!" The creep shouted, face beet red with embarrassment and rage, waving his arms to catch the attention of the patrol car that had just pulled up to the curb. "These men are harassing my girlfriend and they're drunk!! They need to be arrested for being intoxicated in public!!"

You physically recoiled at the false mention of being this bastard's girlfriend and clearly your boyfriends didn't appreciate that. By now, your situation had gathered quite a crowd, and everyone was watching and waiting to see what the officers would do.

Two figures exited the police car, one especially tall with dark hair and the other just as intimidating despite being a bit smaller in stature than his partner.

They approached slowly but purposefully, striding forward until they were directly in front of him. Towering over him, the dark-haired man drawled, "Your girlfriend?"

The man nodded curtly, assuming that any suspicions would be let go now that he had clarified his claim, but he was so wrong.

The officer's partner lowered his sunglasses, revealing piercing golden eyes slitted with blatant hatred. The drunk stumbled back at the malice, eyes beginning to dart warily around as he started to get a clue.

The crowd started to murmur amongst themselves, and nearly missed the cocky grin the taller officer flashed. A small piece of metal glinted on his chest as he stepped into the sun, and it read, "Officer Hak".

Hak grinned with way too much confidence for it simply to be a coincidence. "What do you say, Shin-ah? Should we let him go and escort the lady home?"

His partner raised his chin, pointing soundlessly towards the green-haired man still standing behind you.

"Ask the boss." He said quietly, but with an air of authority that left no room for questioning.

The man's face went pale as he followed their stare behind him and it finally sunk in.

Any trace of usual amusement was gone as Jae-ha lifted up the hem of his shirt, revealing his badge and gun strapped to his hip.

"You see," Hak began, circling the man like a vulture, smirking deviously. "That girl is well known around this area. She's a close friend of mine, and you went and pissed off her boyfriends, who are already as overprotective as hell."

"Jae-ha's a lieutenant in our district." Shin-ah continued quietly but steadily, mouth pressed in a hard line. "And Kija serves in the military that protects your rights and freedoms. The amount of nerve you have to claim that she's yours is pathetic. We should arrest you."

Floundering for a feasible reason to cover his ass from these infuriated cops and coming up empty, the pathetic excuse for a human being scampered off with his tail tucked in between his legs.

With him finally gone, you let out the breath you didn't know you had been holding, squeezing Jae-ha's hand in thanks for his support. He gazed down at you in concern, violet eyes darkening to black when he saw the bruises forming on your wrists from where he had pinned you. Kija followed his gaze, and his clenched fists nearly tore his uniform.

"Thank you both." You bowed gratefully, unaware of the storm brewing from your partners. "I'm so sorry for the trouble."

Hak saluted in such a ridiculous way that had you giggling.

"No trouble at all." He reassured you easily. "It is our job after all. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You nodded, glancing up at Kija, who had drifted close to your unoccupied side.

Shin-ah stepped forward. "Come down to the station later and we'll take a statement."

You dipped your head again to show you understood but blinked your eyes in shock when Jae-ha shook his head firmly.

"She's not going anywhere for the rest of the day." He stated firmly, shooting you a sharp look when you started to suggest that they should let it go. "Up the patrol. Find him."

Shin-ah and Hak bowed obediently, zipping off down the street and just like that, everyone else went about their day. Amidst the bustling city, you were left in your own bubble with Kija and Jae-ha.

You played with your fingers nervously, unsure of what to do as the red auras surrounding your usually gentle and loving boyfriends increased.

"Can... Can we go home?" You asked anxiously, scolding yourself for how timid it came out.

They nodded automatically. Jae-ha's hand landed on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd and Kija took your hand, practically bulldozing his way through. You ducked your head shyly, biting your lip at how much attention they were drawing but you couldn't help how safe that made you feel after this morning's episode.

Kija scooped you up the instant Jae-ha pulled up to your townhome, carrying you through the threshold without hesitation despite your many soft objections that you were too heavy.

Pressing a sweet peck to the crown of your head, he set you down on the sofa, arranging a fluffy blanket over your shaking form. "Wait here for a moment, Y/N."

A desperate cry tore from your throat as they stepped towards your shared bedroom, reaching out for them instinctively before pulling back abruptly, cheeks coloring in shame.

Jae-ha dropped down to his knees, by your side in a split second. His gaze was trained on the way you were clutching your hands to your chest, recognizing what you needed automatically.

"C'mere, sweetheart." He murmured softly, gathering you up in his arms. "I've got you."

He gave Kija the go-ahead to grab what he needed from the bathroom as he ran his long fingers through your hair soothingly.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the calming motion, head thumping on his chest as you lost the strength to keep it up by yourself. His chest rumbled against your ear as he hummed one of your favorite songs.

You had met him at university, sitting in the corner of the library with earbuds stuck in his ears. Back then, you remembered there were rumors about how he used to get around. Partying, doing drugs, everything your parents told you to stay away from, but you didn't stay away from him. Intrigued by what he was listening to that had the playboy so focused, you tapped on his shoulder in a moment of bravery, catching his attention just long enough to shyly relay your curious question.

From there, a friendship sparked until it developed into something deeper than either of you could control.

And the only reason why you refused to be with him after you both graduated was because of Kija.

He had caught your interest from the get-go the second you spotted him in your anthropology lecture. The disgust on his beautiful face as the professor showed a descriptive diagram of insects on the board was hilarious and you burst out laughing in the middle of his teaching. After you apologized, you were thoroughly embarrassed and wished that you could crawl in a hole and die.

But your little display caught his attention and he approached you after class with the promise of taking you out to lunch the following day as long as you agreed to help him get through the lectures by sitting next to him.

You readily agreed to his proposal, but you couldn't squander the guilt you felt as you started to split your time between the handsome, green-haired playboy and the elegant, white-haired study buddy. It didn't make any sense to feel ashamed since you weren't with either one of them, but your feelings for both was what put it in perspective and in a last ditch attempt to get over the silly crush, you cut off contact.

Ending your friendship. Or so you thought.

The pounding on the door of your apartment woke you up at 2 am, and as soon as you opened it, in stumbled your drunk friends. Things only escalated from there. Feelings were revealed in the heat of an argument and you were speechless.

Never in a million years did you think that both of them would be harboring strong feelings for you, and even though you wanted them that night just as bad as they obviously wanted you, the three of you decided to wait until they were completely sober.

All of your insecurities the next morning were washed away as the smell of bacon and buttered toast wafted through your apartment. Kija was cooking and Jae-ha was in the middle of setting the table when you walked in, and their heads shot up when you promptly burst into tears.

You confessed that you thought it was all a dream, or that you would wake up and they would be gone. They embraced you tightly, professing their love for you once more before sealing it with a sweet kiss from a blushing Kija and a searing hot one from a smirking Jae-ha.

Now, years later, here you were. Still considering them your safe place.

Kija returned with a roll of gauze and bowl of cold water. "Y/N, let me see please."

Extending your arms timidly, you glanced up at Jae-ha, who shifted you slightly so that your back was pressed against his firm chest. He kissed the top of your head encouragingly and you bit your lip as your other partner cleaned and bandaged the bruised area.

Frowning deeply at the discoloration, Kija's jaw locked with the restraint of holding himself back from walking out the front door to find and end the creep who had dared to touch you.

"Hey... I'm okay..." You whispered quietly, offering up a reassuring smile. "My heroes came just in time."

And just like that, the dark atmosphere became bright, lighting up only at your unintentional command and the two men chuckled.

Jae-ha brushed back your hair, giving Kija room to peck your temple. His smile was slight, but filled with amusement as his rage started to simmer down. "We're glad you're alright, sweetheart."

Kija lifted your hand gently, kissing your knuckles, eyes brimming with love as they landed on yours. "We'll take care of you, Y/N. We'll keep you safe."

Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. "I know..." You breathed. "Thank you."

He gave you an eskimo kiss that had you giggling, and the sound warmed his heart. You hopped up to your feet, announcing quietly that you were going to go change into some pjs and the two of them let you go. But as his gaze found Jae-ha's, his blue eyes darkened.

They had made friends. Powerful people who happened to owe them a favor. Not that they needed that excuse to go after that man.

Yoon would be the first they would call. An analyst and a skilled strategist. He fooled everybody with his age, and Jae-ha was the first never to underestimate him, earning the pretty boy genius' loyalty for life. He would know what to take care of first.

Zeno usually hung around the poorer parts of town, helping anyone in any way that he could. The spunky and energetic golden-haired boy had a ton of connections, and would make sure they had eyes on the operation the whole time.

Grabbing his phone as it vibrated, Jae-ha barely had to look at it to know who it was. "Hak already contacted me. They found him."

Kija narrowed his eyes. "Then let's go."

They called Yona to come over and keep you company until they finished exacting their revenge.

No matter what, they would protect you. Even if it meant diverting every resource they had at their fingertips to ensure it. You were their entire world.

There was no way anyone would get away with treating you less than that. You deserved better, and damn it, they were going to teach this bastard a lesson.

They would let him live. But just barely.

#akatsukinoyona #akatsukinoyonafanfic #yona of the dawn #oneshot #modernau #policeofficerjaeha #militaryofficerkija #shyreader #jaeha x reader x kija #fluff #protectiveboyfriends #poly #fanfic #hak #shinah #yoon #zeno #yona #captaingigan

42 notes · View notes

the-lady-of-stars · 5 years ago

Text

Assuming the Worst

Requested by @thescarletknight2014

Summary: Reader was Poe’s childhood best friend. At the age of sixteen she was recognised for her strength in the force and sent to train with Luke Skywalker. After that fateful night when a young Ben Solo turned against the Jedi, Poe had assumed the worst.

You had never gotten over having to leave him behind. Poe Dameron had undoubtedly been the best friend you were ever going to have. Maybe, just maybe, had you not been called to the Jedi temple all those years ago, you could have become more.

You shook your head, some sort of pathetic attempt to stop yourself from thinking about him. The wing of the trashed old ship you were perched on still felt slightly warm to the touch, despite it being night. That’s all there was to Jakku really- heat, sand. Better than nothing you supposed.

After the incident with Ben Solo at the temple you had abandoned that lifestyle. Sure you could have stayed with Luke, but losing everyone you trained with wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to get over. Personally you had found it the easier option to just run off to Jakku. Fixing ships up for Unkar Plutt wasn’t a dreamy lifestyle but hey- credits were credits.

Soon enough you found yourself drifting off on the wing of an old cargo ship under the stars, the uncomfortable heat of Jakku that even after all these years you still weren’t accustomed to pushing you over.

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

A loud noise startled you out of your sleep. Blaster shots? Your eyes were still blurred but you could tell that it was morning. Squinting through the sun in an attempt to get your eyes to focus resulted in you seeing some sort of chase. Stormtroopers? You hadn’t seen them round these parts in a while. Ties soaring overhead rattled the cargo ship you were sat on, nearly knocking you off. You gripped onto the edge of the wing to keep yourself steady, trying to observe the situation closer. One of the two people running from the troopers was a man, a leather jacket with the well known Resistance symbol etched on it draped over his shoulders. You knew what to do. You couldn’t just let members of the Resistance get gunned down by the Order.

Reaching out with the force you flung the troopers backwards hard enough to knock them out. Next you closed your eyes, sensing the ties which were circling like vultures and bringing them down in the direction of the sinking fields nearby. The two Resistance members stopped, staring at you, grateful for your help.

The girl approached you first, shouting up a greeting. You tensed your legs and slid off the wing, landing softly in the sand in front of her. The man stood cautiously a few feet behind her, looking confused.

“You did that?” the girl questioned you, furrowing her brown eyebrows. Her hair was tied back into three buns, and she held a staff in her hand. There was a small orange ball droid at her feet, which whistled curiously.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah I did,” you stuttered. The man behind her stepped forward, now stood shoulder to shoulder with the girl.

“You’re a Jedi?” he gasped.

“Used to be. Long time ago. Now I’m just a mechanic.”

“That’s a lightsaber on your belt!” the girl chimed in.

“Yeah. Didn’t have it in me to get rid of it.”

“I’m Rey, by the way,” she responded. “And this is Finn. He’s with the Resistance. I’m just a scavenger.”

“Y/N.”

Finn waved a hand in an awkward but sweet greeting, not taking his eyes off the saber on your belt.

You were about to reply when the sound of more ties coming interrupted.

“Kriff, there’s more!” Finn cried out.

“You should get out of here,” you suggested urgently. “Take that old freighter there.”

“We could use someone like you on our side,” Rey said.

“It’s now or never, the Order’s almost here!” Finn called as he started stepping in the direction of the freighter.

“We’re going to the Resistance. Please come with us?”

“Sure, why not. Let’s get out of here now, though. Those ties are going to be on us like Kowakian monkey-lizards in about twenty seconds.”

-------- Time skip to Maz Kanata’s Castle --------------

Somehow the First Order had found out you were here again. As it turned out, that old freighter from the junkyard was the Millenium Falcon. Han Solo’s Millenium Falcon.

Currently you were outside the remains of Maz Kanata’s castle, troopers surrounding you, Finn, Han and Chewbacca. Rey had been taken by Kylo Ren. Or Ben. Ben Solo. You were good friends back at the temple. You knew that he recognised you. He paused and looked into your eyes at one point, but you couldn’t look back into his. Where the sweet hazel eyes of a friend used to be you only saw a reflective metal visor. Cold. Dark.

In a flash all of the troopers around you began panicking. They started heading for the bank of the lake, making you turn to Han in confusion, furrowing your brows.

“It’s the Resistance,” he whispered, relief showing on his face.

You saw them. A whole squadron of X-Wings, a black and orange one leading them. The black X-Wing soared up from the surface of the lake, blasting Tie after Tie out of the air, swerving through the ruins of Maz’s castle.

“That’s one hell of a pilot!” Finn cheered giddily, a bright smile widening.

You only knew one pilot who could fly like that. You gasped sensing his presence through the force. It was him. Poe. Your Poe, after all these years.

You felt yourself choking up, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Y/N, you okay, kid?” Han asked.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” you managed. Han didn’t look all that convinced but didn’t press you further.

------------------ At the Resistance Base on D’Qar -------------

You stepped off the Falcon onto the concrete. Your eyes roamed rapidly in a search for the black and orange x-wing you were so sure held Poe. Finn ran past you, stopping when the ball droid you had come to know as BB-8 crashed into his legs in an attempt to speed past towards something. Towards someone. A man in an orange flight-suit hopped out of the black x-wing, pulling off his helmet and handing it to a nearby technician. You’d recognise those dark curls anywhere. It was him. Poe.

Finn and Poe ran to each other. So that was who Finn was talking about when he said he’d escaped the First Order with a Resistance pilot. Small galaxy. They embraced, talking for a while before Poe happened to glance over Finn’s shoulder. He froze, face scrunching in confusion. Finn turned back to see what Poe was looking at.

“You know Y/N?” Finn asked. Poe didn’t respond, starting to walk towards you at a slow, steady pace, still hesitant to approach you. You were dead. That’s what he’d told himself all those years. All those nights where he lay awake, crying over the loss of his very best friend. He shook his head in disbelief, blinking to bring himself out of whatever cruel dream he was currently in. You couldn’t be here. It wasn’t possible. He had heard that every Jedi at the temple had died in the betrayal of Ben Solo- and that had included you.

The area had cleared now, everyone going inside to celebrate their victory at Takodana. Even Finn had gone with Han to speak to the General, deciding to leave Poe to it.

Poe still stood about four metres in front of you, staring at you with a blank expression. You didn’t blame him. Couldn’t. You had let him believe that you had died all those years ago. Had never bothered to contact him to tell him you were okay. That you were alive. Thinking about it now, you felt awful. You should have at least sent him a message.

Tears welled up in your eyes for the second time that day, hands shaking. As a tear escaped your eye, Poe was snapped out of his trance. He strode towards you, wrapping his arms around you ever so gently when he finally reached you, almost as if you would disappear if he held you too hard.

“Poe,” you choked out quietly, desperation lacing your voice.

“It’s really you?” his voice shook. You’d missed that voice.

“Yeah, Poe. Yeah, it’s me.”

“No, no you died,” he finally released a sob.

That was the line. That heart-wrenching sob that slipped out of his mouth was it. You broke down, tears now flowing freely as you clutched his sleeves.

“I’m sorry, Poe. I’m so kriffing sorry. I should have told you I was okay. I just- freaked out and I needed to get away from everything so I-”

“Hey, hey- it’s alright. Really. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand perfectly. What you went through couldn’t have been easy. All that matters is that you’re alive, and I’ve got you back. Oh, angel.” Poe sniffled, finally getting the courage to pull you close to him, burying you into his shoulders.

You both stood there for a while, crying into each other for everything you had lost and everything you had found again. You held each other and rocked side to side, the time passing not crossing either of your minds for a second.

Poe began to speak.

“You know, the night after you left all those years ago I couldn’t sleep a wink. I was up all night just thinking. Thinking about all the things I should have said when I had the chance. And after the whole temple thing? The things I thought I’d never be able to tell you. So I’m not gonna wait any longer. The galaxy is unpredictable. Who knows what’s gonna happen next. If I’ve learned anything it’s to not waste time thinking about whether you should say something or not. Because if I don’t say anything now then it shows that I haven’t learned anything- and I have. So I want you to know that I loved you. Still do, in fact. Never stopped. Really broke my heart to think that I’d never be able to tell you. But life’s given me a second chance. So I’m gonna tell you again and again until I’m out of breath just how much I love you, and how much you mean to me. Y’know, my dad always used to tell me to wish on a star and your dreams would come true. Thought it was nonsense- a fairy tale that you tell kids to keep them dreaming. But hell, desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ve wished on a star every single night since that day you left, begging whatever forces are out there in the galaxy to bring you back to me. Did I think it would work? Probably not. I thought I was just being hopeful. Yet here you are, stood in front of me again. I’m not going to lose you this time. Not again. I don’t have the strength for that. So what i’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you.”

You couldn’t verbalise a response. What do you even say when someone pours their heart out for you? So you did the only thing you could think of.

It was a good kiss, perfect even. You might go as far as to call it one worth waiting a lifetime for. You weren’t letting him go again. Not now, not ever.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine

143 notes · View notes

myonechicagoworld · 4 years ago

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – A LITTLE TASTE (S01E14)

Doctor (Dr. Givens): Fold your arms behind your back…

Lifting your hands as high as they’ll go.

And extend your arms forward.

Bend your elbows.

Press up against my hands.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

Be right back.

cutscene

[toaster pops]

[liquid pouring]

[door closes]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Well?

Kelly Severide: Full duty starting next shift!

Leslie Shay: [gasps]

Clarice: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Bang!

Leslie Shay: Congratulations.

Kelly Severide: Pretty great, huh?

Leslie Shay: Yes, so great.

Clarice: So happy for you.

[kissing sound]

Kelly Severide: Thank you.

Leslie Shay: Uh, hey, just a heads-up.

[water pouring]

Leslie Shay: Eric Whaley’s still there.

Kelly Severide: I got no beef with him.

How’s the little one?

Clarice: [laughs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: Yeah. I mean, things are working out surprisingly well,

considering Clarice is in the bathroom every ten

minutes. Hm, Severide is just… he’s been totally cool

since she moved in.

Gabby Dawson: That’s nice of him.

Leslie Shay: I mean, going up and down that spiral staircase with a

baby, that’s gonna suck. But we should probably just

leave him up there until he can walk down himself.

Um, I get that you’re not a huge fan of Clarice, but

we’re a couple now, and I’m looking to basically be a

stepmom. So I need your support.

Gabby Dawson: I’m sleeping with Mills.

Leslie Shay: I knew it! You skank. You kept it from me this whole

time?

Gabby Dawson: We agreed to keep it cool at work, so…

Leslie Shay: Does Casey know?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t think so.

Leslie Shay: Are you gonna tell him?

Gabby Dawson: Do you think I should?

Leslie Shay: So you’re over him?

Gabby Dawson: Look, he zigged, I zagged. Wasn’t meant to be.

Leslie Shay: How’s the sex with Mills?

Gabby Dawson: [laughs] I… I really like him, but it’s not just a

physical thing. So let’s just say he’s very…

detail-oriented.

But here’s the problem. He wants me to meet his

mom, and I’m… I’m just not there yet.

What would you do?

Leslie Shay: Detail-oriented, huh?

[start alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, Truck 81, Squad 3.

[overlapping chatter]

Matt Casey: Driver fled the scene, but the passenger’s pinned in

there pretty good. Door’s jammed. We gotta cut her

out. Cruz, Otis, get ready to assist Squad with the

pin in.

Gabby Dawson: Are you hurt anywhere?

Victim 1: It’s okay.

Leslie Shay: All right, sweetie, this is gonna go around your neck.

Gabby Dawson: Can you tell us your name?

Victim 1: Ambrosia.

Gabby Dawson: Oh yeah? You working tonight?

Victim 1 (Ambrosia): A little. And you were in my dreams.

[sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Whoa! Hey, hey, hey! Come here, sweetie.

Hon, what did you take, sweetie?

Leslie Shay: Dawson, track marks.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Casey, how long will we get in there?

Matt Casey: Five, maybe ten. Let’s go!

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Capp, be ready with the spreaders! Hadley,

we need the ram for a dash roll!

Hadley: Got it!

[metal whines]

[indistinct radio chatter]

[saw cutting glass]

[hammering]

Matt Casey: All right.

All right.

Okay, good.

Firefighter: Good.

Leslie Shay: All right, guys, watch her head.

Gabby Dawson: Try to keep her steady.

Leslie Shay: Okay, good. She’s gonna arrest.

Gabby Dawson: We gotta get her to the hospital now.

Leslie Shay: Let’s get her up. Let go of the handle.

Gabby Dawson: There you go.

I’m barely getting a pulse on her.

Matt Casey: Fifth heroin OD this week. What the hell’s going on?

- title -

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): Yeah, I asked Nancy what was on her bucket

list once she got out.

She didn’t get the reference. You forget how

closed off these prisoners are in terms of

movies and…

[buzzing]

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): … popular culture and stuff. Little things that

we take for granted.

I’m just gonna give my congratulations, and

then I’ll let you two have your time together.

Matt Casey: Sounds good.

Nancy Casey: [exhales]

Can’t believe this is really happening.

Rick.

Thank you.

Man 2 (Rick Savrinn): I’ll drop by once you get all settled.

Nancy Casey: Okay.

Matt Casey: Ready?

All right, mom.

cutscene

[buzzing]

[gate shutter rolling open]

Hadley: Oh, boy.

Capp: Is that him?

[all cheering and applauding]

Hadley: Hey, buddy.

Capp: Welcome back.

Kelly Severide: Dawson.

Chief Boden: Welcome back. About damn time.

Kelly Severide: Thanks, Chief.

Christopher Herrmann: And the neck’s 100%, right?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, you wanna spar a few rounds after shift and

find out?

Christopher Herrmann: No, I’m good.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, this is uh, Pouch. The best damn thing to ever

happen to this house.

Mouch: Otis is transferring.

Otis Zvonecek: What? Come on. It’s like I’m being rocketed into

space.

I’m going over to Morningside.

[dog yipping]

Chief Boden: Kelly, your relief Lieutenant, Eric Whaley.

Kelly Severide: It’s been a while.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Yeah.

Chief Boden: You two know each other?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, I was, uh… engaged to Eric’s sister.

Mouch: Ah, got it. The original Renee.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): There was a second one?

Chief Boden: Well, now that you’re back, Whaley will move over to

engine to relieve Jeff Turner for the next few shifts.

Okay, everyone, listen up. Some of you may know

Gabby’s brother, Detective Antonio Dawson. He has

some information from CPD for us.

Antonio Dawson: Thanks, Chief.

Last few weeks, I’ve seen a spike in fatal

overdoses. ME’s office has connected at least a

dozen deaths to a toxic batch of heroin. Now

be aware, it’s laced with fentanyl and in most

cases does not respond to the normal protocol

of naloxone. We are now approaching each

overdose as a potential homicide.

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Structure

fire, 115... [continues indistinctly]

Antonio Dawson: Gabby. You’re on the front lines on this thing.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, I’ll look into it.

Antonio Dawson: See, that’s exactly what I don’t want you to do.

The crew that’s pushing this bad dope, they

don’t mess around.

Gabby Dawson: As opposed to all those amicable drug dealers out

there?

[engine starts]

Antonio Dawson: I’m serious. Be careful. Don’t go Gabby on this.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you look like hell.

Antonio Dawson: Good morning to you too.

[engine starts]

[sirens blaring]

[horns honking]

[radio chatter]

Chief Boden: Looks like the fire’s in the back, probably where the

kitchen is. Truck, get inside, open up the windows

and the exits. Give me a primary search. Engine,

get an attack line in the front.

Matt Casey: Herrmann, Mills, open up the back. Otis, secure the

utilities. Mouch, Cruz… where’s Cruz?

Joe Cruz: [grunting]

Matt Casey: Cruz, put your mask on!

[glass breaking]

Joe Cruz: There’s somebody in here!

Kelly Severide: All right, we’ll find him.

[glass continues breaking]

Kelly Severide: Fire department! Is there anybody in here?

[explosion]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Fire’s in the exhaust system. We gotta get that

aerial up to the roof.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Herrmann, Mills, get that ladder set.

Chief Boden: Just get me a line up there.

(into radio) Severide, give me a progress report.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Primary search of the kitchen negative!

[ladder raising]

Matt Casey: Let’s cut a vent.

[ceiling collapses]

Squad Firefighter: Hey, he’s over here!

Kelly Severide: Okay, let’s clear a path.

[saw buzzing]

Kelly Severide: Hey! Grab the end.

[grunts]

All right, that’s good!

We got you.

[saw buzzes]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Keep feeding me line!

Matt Casey: Good.

(into radio) Vent’s open.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Send the water!

[water spraying]

Leslie Shay: Push him all the way up.

[water spraying]

Otis Zvonecek: Board-up crews.

Peter Mills: Why do they always look like gangsters.

Otis Zvonecek: Because they are. Do you have any idea what these

contracts are worth?

Vultures.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks, old timer.

Kitchen ceiling is gonna need some

patching up, but other than that, it’s just a

lot of smoke damage.

Man 3 (Owner): It’s a sign to finally get my ass to Florida.

Wanna buy a bar?

Leslie Shay: [laughs]

Christopher Herrmann: [chuckles]

[ambulance door shuts]

Mouch: So you a fireman or a kamikaze pilot now?

Joe Cruz: Saved the old man, fire’s out. That’s all that matters.

Mouch: It matters if you get yourself killed.

[truck door closes]

[siren blares]

Kelly Severide: Eric.

Look man, when the whole thing went down, you

and I weren’t talking, obviously, and… I never got

a chance to apologise. I really am sorry for what

happened.

We used to be friends once, right?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): I’m only here a couple more shifts.

cutscene

[squad beeping]

Chief Boden: So how is your neck?

Kelly Severide: 100%.

Chief Boden: You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?

Kelly Severide: I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

Chief Boden: Yeah, right.

Otis, Casey, my office.

[door closes]

Chief Boden: Otis, your transfer just came through. You report to

Morningside next shift.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, wow. Um… so it’s official?

Chief Boden: Only if you want it to be.

Look, we know you made this decision based off of

one shift there, but you have had one month to

think about it. We want to give you an opportunity

to…

Otis Zvonecek: I’m ready to go, Chief.

Matt Casey: Otis… we do a lot of ball-breaking in this house.

It’s not that we don’t appreciate you, but if anybody

ever crossed the line…

Otis Zvonecek: It’s not personal, Lieutenant. Morningside’s a

smaller house. I’ll have a better chance of

getting off elevators sooner, and they’ll let

me drive.

Chief Boden: They’ll be lucky to have you.

Otis Zvonecek: Thanks Chief [clears throat]

Matt Casey: Good luck, Brian.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles] Lieutenant.

[door closes]

cutscene

[knocks on ambo door]

Gabby Dawson: Whoa, what are you doing here?

Antonio Dawson: I need to talk real quick.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs]

Antonio Dawson: Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: [light chuckle] This ought to be good.

Antonio Dawson: If anyone calls you asking if we went to a movie

last night, the answer is yes.

This heroin thing… is starting to blow up a little

bit, and I’m damn close to making some busts.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Antonio Dawson: The thing is, the guys over in Narcotics, they get

real territorial, and they don’t want a guy from

Vice taking collars from them. So I told a little

white lie to my boss ‘cause I wasn’t where I

was supposed to be last night, and I said that

you and I… can you just say yes if anyone

asks?

Gabby Dawson: Why do I feel like I’m not getting the whole story?

Antonio Dawson: Because you’re not getting the whole story.

I’m working a case. Will you cover for me,

please?

Gabby Dawson: Uh…

Antonio Dawson: Of course you will. Thank you.

[kissing sound]

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, I just did a little recon on that bar

owner.

Leslie Shay: You’re not actually thinking of buying it?

Christopher Herrmann: Me alone? No. But would I be willing to be

a part of a consortium? Maybe.

Mouch: All right, first of all, that guy was as old as dirt. Second of

all, he did a face plant off a ladder. I doubt he even

recollects making an offer to sell.

Christopher Herrmann: You heard him. He wants to get his ass to

Florida. He’s gonna sell that place. It’s in

an up-and-coming neighbourhood, he

owns the property, and he’s got the

Brass ring… a liquor license.

There’s the worm. It’s right there. Who’s

gonna be the early bird? Why not us?

I’m telling you, if this place hits the open

market, some hipster douche bags are

gonna swoop in and print money.

Mouch: Hmm.

[laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: No vision in this house!

None!

Zero!

[laughter]

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): [sighs] So, um… who was this new Renee?

I’m curious.

Kelly Severide: I apologised. I offered to put it past us. If that’s not

something that you’re up for and you’d rather keep

it frosty till you leave, I can do that too.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): What are you apologising for? For dumping

her two days before the wedding or for

what happened after?

Kelly Severide: You’re not in full possession of all the facts here,

Eric.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Then enlighten me, Kelly.

That’s what I thought.

You were a coward then, and you’re a coward

now.

[chair rolls back]

Kelly Severide: Before this goes any further south, why don’t you

walk away?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Or what?

Nancy Casey: Excuse me?

Is Matthew Casey here?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, he’s right this way.

Matt Casey: How’d you get here?

Nancy Casey: I took the bus.

Matt Casey: What’s going on?

Nancy Casey: Just wanted to see where my son works.

Matt Casey: This is where I work.

Nancy Casey: Well, are you embarrassed that I’m here?

Matt Casey: No, I… Of course not.

Nancy Casey: Well, then can I get a tour?

Matt Casey: Yeah. Uh… Um… You saw the truck.

Nancy Casey: This is your truck?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: Wow.

Matt Casey: And, uh… Oh, this is Peter, uh, behind you, mom.

This is Peter Mills, our candidate. This is my mom.

Peter Mills: Oh, hey.

Nancy Casey: Hi.

Oh.

Nancy & Peter: [laughs]

Peter Mills: You have got a great son.

Nancy Casey: That’s very kind of you to say.

Peter Mills: Oh. May I?

Nancy Casey: Oh, yes. Please help yourself.

Peter Mills: [chuckles] Thank you.

Matt Casey: Oh, uh, this is, uh, Gabriela Dawson.

Nancy Casey: Oh. You… you were at my hearing?

Gabby Dawson: Yes, that’s right.

Nancy Casey: Oh, thank you so much. That just… that meant the

world to me, and I’m sure it did to Matthew as

well.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, ma’am, it was… it was my pleasure, and uh…

congratulations for… well, you know, uh, getting

out of… you know [exhales]

Nancy Casey: Prison.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah [nervous chuckle] Yep, prison. The big house.

The big house… is… they even call it the big

house anymore? Probably not, I’m guessing.

Nancy Casey: Ohh! She’s adorable! She’s an absolute joy. Forget

Hallie, this is the kind of woman I’ve always

envisioned you being with.

Gabby Dawson: [nervous laugh]

cutscene

[water running]

Peter Mills: [sighs]

You given any more thought to dinner on Sunday?

I g… I just gotta tell my mom if you’re coming.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, sorry. Sorry. Dispatch has been pounding us

with runs. 47’s out of service, so we’ve just been

slammed. And um, my cousin might actually be

staying with me that week.

Peter Mills: Are you nervous about dinner?

Gabby Dawson: Not at all. You?

Peter Mills: I mean, I’m the one who extended the invitation, so…

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Right. Of course. No, I just, uh…

Peter Mills: Am I getting in the way of you and Casey?

Gabby Dawson: Absolutely not. He’s just a friend. I’m only seeing

you. I only wanna see you. I just wanna make

sure we’re not moving too quickly or anything.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

[door slams]

Peter Mills: Text me. Let me know.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Why don’t you tell Whaley what happened?

Kelly Severide: [sighs] What difference would it make?

Leslie Shay: He’d get off your ass, for one.

[locker door slams]

Kelly Severide: Look, if I was gonna say anything, I would have said

something then.

Leslie Shay: Maybe he needs to know.

Kelly Severide: You think I’m in a big hurry to revisit the whole

thing? It’s over. It’s done. He can say what he

wants. I don’t care.

cutscene

Mouch: Lieutenant, I gotta talk to you about Cruz.

Matt Casey: What about him?

Mouch: He’s been acting a little off. You notice that as well?

Matt Casey: I figured it was a private matter.

Mouch: Yeah, and I keep asking him to tell me what it is, but he

won’t open up.

Matt Casey: Then stop asking him about it, Mouch.

[start alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. Person in distress, Wallingford Motel.

[siren blares]

Leslie Shay: So why are you guys keeping it on the sly?

Gabby Dawson: It started out being what I wanted, but then Boden

called him on the carpet, gave him some vague BS

about putting time in to ‘master your craft.’

And Mills really took it to heart.

Leslie Shay: I don’t know, if I dug someone as much as you dig him,

I wouldn’t be able to hide it, especially working

together 24 hours a day, side by side.

Gabby Dawson: Are you trying to make me feel worse?

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Dawson, for someone’s who’s such a mad

woman on the job, you are so timid in your personal

life. I mean, take some risks, have some fun.

Gabby Dawson: You know what, thank you. Excellent point, which

you have made before, granted. But I’m at a

place in my life where I could really embrace the

message. I’m texting him right now.

Leslie Shay: Nice.

Gabby Dawson: When’s Clarice due?

Leslie Shay: Ugh, two weeks. Getting butterflies.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, plenty of time.

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Man 4 (Hotel Manager): I heard screaming, but we never have any

trouble around here. Nothing.

Leslie Shay: [exasperated sigh] I hate hotels.

[knocking on door]

Gabby Dawson: Paramedics.

Man 5 (Naked Man): Don’t tell my wife.

[bag unzipping]

Leslie Shay: She took a hot shot.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, honey? Can you hear me?

[dramatic music]

Leslie Shay: Agonal respiration. She’s barely breathing.

Fight for us, girl. Come on. You get your rocks off

watching girls shoot up?

Man 5 (Naked Man): I never force them to do anything. That was

completely their thing.

Leslie Shay: Their?

[sighs] There’s another girl in here.

(into radio) 61 to main. We need another ambulance

and CPD for a DOA.

Man 5 (Naked Man): Oh, God.

Gabby Dawson: Can’t get a line in. Her veins collapsed.

I’m gonna go sublingual. If this is the same bad

dope, we don’t have time for anything else.

Leslie Shay: I can’t get her jaw open.

Gabby Dawson: Come on, come on, come on.

[silently] Come on.

Victim 2: [gasps]

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Victim 2: What’s happening?

Gabby Dawson: You’re okay.

Leslie Shay: You’re all right.

Gabby Dawson: My name’s Gabby. This is Leslie. We’re gonna get

you to the hospital, all right?

Come on, let’s get her in the chair.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Man, this stuff is gonna wipe out half the city.

Leslie Shay: Hey Antonio.

Antonio Dawson: Hey, Victoria. It’s me. What the hell happened?

It wasn’t enough for you to hit this junk on your

own? You had to bring Natalie back into it?

She was clean! I told you to stay away from her!

Gabby Dawson: Antonio.

What’s the problem?

Hey! What the hell’s going on?

Antonio Dawson: There’s this new crew out of New York that’s

been pushing their way into prostitution,

looking for a cut of everyone’s action. Those

who don’t pay, their girls are getting hit with

bad dope. That’s what’s going on. That’s

who I’m trying to bring down. And I’m trying

to get close to these animals, but it’s difficult

when my informants keep getting spiked left

and right!

Gabby Dawson: Okay. All right. I get it, okay?

But I’ve never seen you like this before. You’re

starting to worry me a little bit.

Antonio Dawson: [scoffs]

Gabby Dawson: You’re keeping secrets from your boss.

You’re asking me to lie to mine.

Antonio Dawson: It’s different being a cop than a paramedic,

Gabby. There’s a little more to it.

cutscene

Nancy Casey: I would have put on a pot of coffee if I’d known you

were coming.

[cabinets closing]

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): If you knew I was coming, this

wouldn’t be an unannounced

visit.

Nancy Casey: Yeah, those… those are personal letters.

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): As long as you’re on parole,

nothing in here is personal.

Matt Casey: Yes, we understand, Officer.

Thank you.

Lady 1 (Parole Officer/Kendrick): Pretty straightforward, Nancy.

You’re to be in this house

from 9:00pm to 9:00am every

day. You’re not to consume

alcohol or illegal drugs. You

are not to associate with any

known criminals. And we

have an appointment on the

23rd in my office. It’s yours

to screw up.

Nancy Casey: Well, then you have nothing to worry about.

[pen clicking]

[phone rings]

Nancy Casey: Be a second.

Hey. Can I call you right back?

Okay.

Matt Casey: Rick?

Nancy Casey: Uh, no, I… I called that off.

Matt Casey: Why? He… he seemed nice.

Nancy Casey: He was too nice.

Matt Casey: So then who was that on the phone?

Nancy Casey: Uh, a friend.

Matt Casey: Another pen pal?

Nancy Casey: Wow, you make it sound so tawdry, but, yeah.

He was someone kind enough to visit me in

prison.

[door shuts]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Morningside, huh? All right!

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah. Yeah, I’ve heard all the speeches, so you

know, thanks all the same, but you can save it.

Kelly Severide: What speeches?

Otis Zvonecek: “It’s a dead house.” “You’re throwing your career

away.” “All you’re gonna do is sell t-shirts.”

Kelly Severide: Oh, I don’t have any speeches. I made a hundred

bucks off this.

Otis Zvonecek: What? Wh… what do you mean?

Kelly Severide: Oh. When you first started, there was a little side

action on if you had what it took to make it at 51.

I took the under, so to speak.

Otis Zvonecek: Well, who else bet against me?

Kelly Severide: It’s a confidential pool.

Otis Zvonecek: Hmm.

Kelly Severide: Hey, you made it four years, man. I’ll give you that

much.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay. I get it. It’s like a reverse psychology ploy to

get me fired up and make me stay, right?

[money fluttering]

Otis Zvonecek: Son of a…

cutscene

[ambo door shuts]

Matt Casey: Hey. You got a minute?

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat]

Matt Casey: I, uh… was a little confused by your text last night.

Gabby Dawson: Text?

Matt Casey: Yeah. “You’re right, I think it’s time to meet your mom,

and I’m really looking forward to it.” If I’m not

mistaken, you met her.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, I sent that before

she got there. That’s so weird ‘cause I…

[clears throat] That was… that was for somebody

else. I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: Ah.

That explains it.

Christopher Herrmann: All right. Hey, can I have everybody in the

briefing room? Moment of your time?

Thanks.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs]

Christopher Herrmann: As you can see from the prospectus, the

offer on the table fluctuates based upon

how many of us get on board with the

actual offer. Now, it also entails that the

owner be carrying the loan himself.

Mouch: 70,000? He’ll never take it.

Christopher Herrmann: Guys, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

If he turns us down, he turns us down.

I’m just looking for the 7k in cash to get

the 10% down.

Who’s in?

Otis Zvonecek: I’m in.

Christopher Herrmann: Otis, buddy. All right, we’ll keep you

apprised while you’re over at

Morningwood.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, no, no. I’m actually happy to announce to all

you people who bet that I wouldn’t make it

here… that I’ve withdrawn my transfer request.

Christopher Herrmann: Get out of here with that. No one was

betting against you.

Otis Zvonecek: What?

Christopher Herrmann: All right, look. Anyone else?

Look, it’s a neighbourhood bar in

Bucktown. We’re looking to bring in the

new families that have moved in and

have thus far been neglected. You’re

gonna pass up a deal like this?

Mouch?

Mouch: Too volatile.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, Mouch is out. He thinks the bar is

built on a volcano.

[chuckles]

Christopher Herrmann: Anybody else?

I’m just looking for one more to put in

2,300 and we’re whole.

Gabby Dawson: I’m in.

Christopher Herrmann: Dawson.

Gabby Dawson: I’m making an investment. I gotta make money to

pay for med school, so…

Leslie Shay: Are you crazy?

Gabby Dawson: What? Plus it sounds like fun.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): So then just tell me what happened!

Kelly Severide: We’ve already been through this.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): You haven’t told me a damn thing!

Kelly Severide: How is this your business?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): How is this my business?

Kelly Severide: Yes! How is it your business?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): It wasn’t just Renee’s life you screwed up!

It was our whole family!

Kelly Severide: Look! I moved on with my life, okay?

Maybe you should too.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Tell me, how do you move on from seeing

your sister’s car wrapped around a

telephone pole, huh?

Kelly Severide: Come on.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Yeah. Yeah, yeah, your boy here, the great

Kelly Severide, after he dumps my sister,

she goes out drinking, ends up in a coma

for three months.

Where was Kelly?

Never heard from him.

Leslie Shay: Your sister hooked up with an ex-boyfriend before the

wedding.

Kelly Severide: Shay.

Leslie Shay: No, he needs to know this. Kelly found out about it,

so he called off the wedding. And he didn’t say

anything because your entire family was in the

hospital after Renee hit that pole. He didn’t wanna

dump more grief on you guys. So he took the hit.

That’s what happened, all right? So lay off.

Chief Boden: Shay. Hospital just called.

Clarice’s water just broke.

Leslie Shay: Thanks.

Chief Boden: Anything else needs to be said beyond what’s already

been screamed or yelled?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): No, Chief.

Kelly Severide: Nope.

Chief Boden: You gonna make it another three shifts? Do I need to

find you a new home?

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): I like to fulfil my obligations. So, yeah. I’d like

to stay till I’m done.

Chief Boden: You got a problem with that, Kelly?

Kelly Severide: I don’t.

Chief Boden: Eric, I have been on vacation for the past few weeks,

so you probably haven’t got a chance to know how I

operate. I say things once.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Copy that.

Chief Boden: Both of you, back to work.

Man 1 (Eric Whaley): Part of my frustration, I guess, is that… I

don’t know where she is half the time.

She doesn’t really talk to the family anymore.

cutscene

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Deal.

Gabby Dawson: Ah, that’s amazing.

Otis Zvonecek: Yes.

Christopher Herrmann: Thank you so much.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): You guys saved my life. If you want

the place, it’s yours.

Christopher Herrmann: Wow.

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Just got two favours.

Christopher Herrmann: Name it.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Don’t turn this place into some kind

of hipster joint that caters to all

these new arrivals.

Christopher Herrmann: Are you kidding me? Hell no.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Just keep the charm.

Otis Zvonecek: You have our word that we’re gonna bend over

backwards to try to accommodate that.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, you said you had a second favour?

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Oh, yeah. I promised someone else a

little taste, if you know what I mean.

Strictly off the books, depending on

what he brings to the table. But it’s

your call as to what size that piece

will be.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, we’re not… we’re not really looking for any

more partners.

Man 3 (Owner/Stephanidies): Relax, sweetheart, he’s a silent

partner.

Just take care of him.

Man 6: Sorry I’m late, Mr. Stephanidies.

Man 3 (Owner/ Stephanidies): No problem, Arthur. Come on in.

Arthur’s crew boarded the place up

after the fire.

Free of charge.

You’re gonna get along just great.

cutscene

[sports announcer in background]

[door shuts]

Matt Casey: Uh, what are you doing?

Nancy Casey: I’m going out.

Matt Casey: To do what?

Nancy Casey: Have dinner.

[car horn beeps]

Matt Casey: With this pen pal guy?

Nancy Casey: Yes, indeedy.

Matt Casey: Your parole officer said you…

Nancy Casey: I’ll be back before my curfew. Don’t worry about it.

Matt Casey: I’m worried… about it, mom. You’re not even 24 hours

into being…

Nancy Casey: I’m not going out to sell crack!

I thought you invited me into your home so I could

live my life, but if your intention was to parent me

or… or… or somehow get back at me for what

happened, then you shouldn’t have bothered.

Matt Casey: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!

Nobody talks to me like that, all right? Especially in my

own house.

Nancy Casey: I’m going to have dinner, Matthew.

I’ll be back before my curfew. I hope you have a

wonderful night.

[door closes]

cutscene

[line trilling]

[beeping]

Phone Operator: The number you have reached is no longer in

service.

Kelly Severide: [sniffs]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

It’s a boy.

Kelly Severide: All right!

Leslie Shay: [laughs] Come on.

Oh God, he’s healthy, beautiful, adorable cheeks.

He can’t wait to meet you.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Leslie Shay: Yeah

Kelly Severide: [laughs]

Leslie Shay: Sorry about that back at the firehouse.

Kelly Severide: No, you’re not.

[baby crying]

Clarice: Hey

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Clarice: [giggles]

Kelly Severide: That’s amazing.

Clarice: Daniel.

Do you want to hold him?

[baby cries]

Daniel Shwartz: [shushes]

[baby sounds]

Clarice: [exhales] I don’t know what your plans are, but, um…

of course I’d love for you to be part of our lives as

much as you can.

Kelly Severide: Wow. Father of the year right there.

Man 7: Clarice Carthage and Leslie Shay?

Leslie Shay: Yes.

Man 7: You’ve been served in the case of Daniel Schwartz versus

Clarice Carthage.

Kelly Severide: What is it?

Leslie Shay: Petition for full custody.

[sniffles]

[phone vibrates]

[kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: It’s okay.

Gabby Dawson: Oh my God. You’re not answering. I hope that’s

good news. Um, I’m in the parking lot. I’m sorry

I’m late. Be there in a sec.

Hey, what are you doing here?

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Antonio, what’s wrong?

Antonio Dawson: The girl you brought in, the OD.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, Victoria.

Antonio Dawson: She bolted. Nobody’s seen her for at least an

hour.

Gabby Dawson: All right, well, what’s… what’s up?

Antonio Dawson: The DOA was my informant for years, and I was

gonna start over with Victoria, and now she’s

gone.

Gabby Dawson: Antonio, you need some rest, okay. You’re barely

making any sense. Let me take you home.

Antonio Dawson: I gotta go.

[tires screech]

[gunshots]

[car peels out]

Gabby Dawson: Oh, God!

Oh, God! Antonio!

Antonio!

[whimpers] Antonio! Oh God.

Oh God. Come on.

Antonio Dawson: [coughs]

Gabby Dawson: Come on! Oh God.

[grunts]

Hold on, you hear me?

Antonio Dawson: [coughs]

Gabby Dawson: Hold on.

Somebody help!

Hold on. I got you.

I got you. You’re gonna be fine.

Help!

Somebody help me!

- end -

Definitions:

Dash roll = Is an emergency plan to free a lower limb entrapment so the casualty can be removed at any time during the main plan. The objective of a dash roll using a ram is to roll the dash toward the front of the vehicle and open space between the driver seat and the steering column.

OD = Overdose

ME = Medical Examiner

Fentanyl = It is an opioid used as a pain medication and together with other medications for anesthesia. It is also used as a recreational drug, often mixed with heroin or cocaine. It has a rapid onset and its effects generally last under two hours. Fentanyl is up to 100 times more potent than morphine and many times of that of heroin.

Naloxone = Is a medication used to block the effects of opioids. It is commonly used to counter decreased breathing in opioid overdose. Naloxone may also be combined with an opioid, to decrease the risk of opioid misuse.

Dope = Slang word for euphoria-producing drug, particularly cannabis, heroin & opium.

Vice = Police division whose focus is stopping public-order crimes like gambling, narcotics, prostitution, and illegal sales of alcohol.

Collars = taking an arrest of someone

Recon = To conduct a preliminary and especially an exploratory survey

Consortium = Is a group made up of two or more individuals, companies, or governments that work together to achieving a common objective. Entities that participate in a consortium pool resources but are otherwise only responsible for the obligation that are set out in the consortium’s agreement.

Hot shot = An assassination technique in which a person intentionally injects a person with enough drugs to kill them. They do so my targeting people who are already drug users or they give the unsuspecting victim a drug such as Carfentanil in place of heroin.

Agonal respiration = Medical term used to describe struggling to breathe or gasping. It is often a symptom of a severe medical emergency, such as a stroke or cardiac arrest. The gasping associated with agonal respiration is not true breathing, but rather a brainstem reflex.

Collapsed veins = Is a blown vein that has caved in, which means that blood can no longer flow freely through that vein. Blood flow will resume once the swelling goes down. In the meantime, that vein can’t be used. If the damage is severe enough, a collapsed vein can be permanent.

Sublingual = From the Latin for “under the tongue”, refers to the pharmacological route of administration by which substances diffuse into the blood through tissues under the tongue which is predominantly a mucous gland that produces a thick mucinous fluid and lubricates the oral cavity which allow for swallowing, initiating digestion, buffering pH, and dental hygiene.

Tawdry = Showing or having low moral standards

Apprised = Informed

15 notes · View notes