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fiveisnumber1 · 3 years

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Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

_________________________

Pt 29 - Sir Reginald and the Kids of the Round Table

You watched as Five disappeared and Luther walked out of the building with Diego trailing behind. You continued to face towards the downstairs area as you mumbled,

"Great."

From behind you, you can hear Allison question curiously,

"Number Zero, huh?" Allison

You turn around to look at her, annoyance written all over your face. You didn't want to deal with the conversation like this, let alone at all.

"It wasn't my choice. You think I wanted to be reduced to a number? I didn't care in the slightest that zero came before one." You replied, "I'm a person with a name, not an experiment and I made sure he followed that."

"So you are dear old daddy's favorite. Y'know I always kind of figured so. Never understood why though since you're the exact opposite of what he wanted his children to be." Klaus says with a drunken laugh

"Hell if I know. Our relationship has always been...complex." You state as you cross your arms over your chest

You couldn't quite grasp if they were just curious about the revelation or if they were actually upset by finding out their dad had called you number zero. Even if Luther was done with his dad, he still seemed to care a lot about it and unfortunately, they all still had their issues with their father so you had no clue how they might feel. You hoped it was just curiosity because you had never wanted to be zero and you really couldn't think of a circumstance in which you would accept such a name. It would have to be the only option left to agree to such a thing but Five and you all were going to stop the apocalypse so it wouldn't be a worry. You stand around awkwardly as a silence looms in the air over those of you who were still in the apartment. Wondering if and when the rest of them would come back, you all waited for a bit. After a few moments though Klaus broke the silence and said,

"This had been nice but you know, I could really go for some tacos right now. Allison?"

"Tacos? Shouldn't we wait?" Allison questioned

"You know those guys. I mean, it could take forever for them to bro it out. Vanya, tacos?" Klaus replies

"Is there any way that tacos are gonna cause the end of the world?" Vanya asks

"I mean, there's only one way to find out, right?" Klaus remarks

"Sure is." Allison chimes

"Let's go!" Klaus exclaims

"Where are you guys going? We need to figure out how to stop the...apocalypse" You tried to exclaim but it was no use

You stood at the top of the balcony as you watched them leave. You were starting to understand how Five felt dealing with his siblings. From behind you, you hear a voice say,

"I've missed you all...so much."

Ben.

"If it means anything, I missed you too." You state as you turn back around looking in Ben's direction

He turns his head to face you and replies,

"It does."

He looked at you and you cocked your head to the side slightly, intrigued at the sight before you. You realized what had felt off about him earlier. You hadn't quite noticed it because when he sat on the TV stand he was so far away but with him up close you realized, you could see him. Clearly. Before when you saw him he was more so just a giant blob of moving particles. Sometimes you could make out a head or arms but it was like static on a TV, no picture was clearly there. But now everything was so defined. It was as if the static had cleared and now you could see him in high definition. You could see his hair, his face, actual appendages like hands and fingers, and...ghost clothes? The point was he looked more like a person. He was still just a bunch of disturbed molecules but now he looked real. All that visualization practice with Charlie finally paid off. Slowly, you approached the seat he was sitting in and leaned down so you were face to face with him. Ben looked back at you confused. You were so close and he didn't know what was going on.

"Are you okay?" Ben asks concerned

You pull back and stand up straight.

"Stand up, Ben." You command

"What?" Ben questions

"Stand up."

Ben hesitantly stands up. You had never been so demanding with him before and he was highly confused about why you were so adamant about him stand up. He looks at you silently as you tell him,

"Lift your arms up, like this." You demonstrate to Ben

"T-pose!" Charlie exclaims

"Correct, but not in this instance." You say turning your attention to Charlie before turning back to Ben "Just trust me."

Ben looked at you and although he was confused there was a genuine look in your eyes. Unlike his siblings, you were trustworthy, you had never done him wrong. Slowly, Ben raised his arms like you had instructed before he got his arms up fully you wrapped your arms around his torso. You were hugging him. It wasn't a perfect hug because he wasn't solid, and if you held him too tight your arms would go through him, but you could feel the barrier of molecules where his back was and tried to balance your arms there. It took a second for Ben to register what was going on but once he did he carefully wrapped his arms back around you. This was the first hug he had gotten in years. He couldn't remember the last time someone held him but at this moment he forgot that he was a ghost and for the first time in years he felt like a person. Ben leaned more into the hug as he took in every second of it. He had wanted this for so long. He tried to wrap his arms around you tighter to bring you, the only other person who could see him, closer. But as he did so his arms went through you and he remembered a glaring fact.

He was still dead.

Although he was disappointed by the reality of his existence and the façade of normalcy he felt a moment ago, he held on anyway. With the way things were going he didn't know if he'd get this ever again. After a bit, you pulled away and shot him a smile. You wondered if Klaus was kind to his brother with no real autonomy but you also hoped that Ben was kind to his evidently struggling sibling. You looked around the place and saw that no one had returned as of yet.

"Hmm. Five would've been back by now." You comment

"Unless he ran off to do something," Charlie retorts

"Good point. I'm going to go take a look around outside real quick." You state before turning to Charlie "Charlie talk to Ben while I'm gone."

"Where is he? I can't see him like you can." Charlie asks

You use your arms to gesture to the space before you where Ben was standing. Charlie approaches albeit confused but tries his best to stand in front of him. With that, you start to walk away to head outside to look for Five but as you do Charlie calls out,

"Wait! He can't reply. What do I talk about?"

"I don't know, Russian Literature?" You shoot back

"That's a big no-no in my house. Y'know with my dad working for the government and all."

"Right. 1960s anti-Russian sentiment. Uh, just talk about something he can relate to then." You reply as you walk away

Charlie turns to Ben and the last thing you can hear is him asking,

"Do you want to hear about my shitty dad?"

With that, you walk out to try and find Five but he would be nowhere to be found. After seeing Lila on the roof he immediately started to chase after her. One, because he absolutely despised her and wanted her dead but also because he didn't want her anywhere near you or his family. If he played along with her little chase game he could get her further from you and his siblings. Five follows close behind as Lila continues to run, leading him away from the main part of town towards the industrial sector. Five keeps his distance as he follows her to what looks like an abandoned paint warehouse. He hides behind a wall as he sees her grab a small plank of wood and smash open the window of a door, letting herself into the building. Cautiously, he trails behind her. Looking into the building he makes sure the coast is clear before spatial jumping behind Lila. Lila turns on her heel to look at Five. He shoves his hands into his pockets and with a sarcastic smirk on his face he questions,

"What's your game, crazy lady?"

"Who cares? You said if you saw me again, you'd kill me." Lila comments

"Oh, I remember." Five states

"Well, come on, big talker. Let's get this done." Lila taunts

"All right." Five replies

Spatial jumping Five attempts to attack her from behind but somehow Lila anticipates his movement and roundhouse kicks him in the jaw knocking him backward. Five grabs his jaw and attempts to get up while Lila runs away. Five chases her down a corridor of the abandoned warehouse, spatial jumping in front of her stopping her in her tracks. He then rushes her, jumping into the air to kick her but she leans back and dodges his attack. Landing on his feet Five immediately spins backward to kick her and lands a hit on her jaw. The two of them go blow of blow landing some hits on each other and missing others. Taking a few steps back Lila jumps over a large piece of concrete and Five follows. Looking towards where she should be Five finds nothing. He stops in his tracks but then hears,

"I'm waiting."

Five looks over to where the voice came from and there across the room stood Lila. He looked at her confused. How did she get over there so quickly? That didn't matter. Five jumped over to where she would be but once again she was nowhere to be found.

"Fed up yet, Five?" Lila mocks

Five turned to where the voice came from and there she was standing across the room again. Five stopped for longer and stared in her direction. The confusion and frustration of this situation built up inside of him. Looking around Five finds a pipe on the ground. Picking it up he spatial jumps over to where Lila was standing but instead of hitting her, he hits an electrical box. Turning around he sees her behind him and as she lifts one of her legs up to kick him he sweeps the other one out from under her making her fall to her back on the ground. Five then step on her neck keeping her in place. Through a choked voice Lila comments,

"You're better than I thought."

"And you are entirely average." Five belittles before calling "You can come out now."

Five can hear the familiar clacking of heels on the floor behind him. The Handler.

"Well done. You figured it out." The Handler says

"Well, it wasn't very hard. She fights like every one of you Commission drones." Five retorts, his focus still on keeping Lila down

"Hmm. No matter, here we are. Together again. I've gotta ask...did you miss me, you little shit?" The Handler questions

Five looks at her. His expression filled with subdued anger. There's a silence in the room except for the distorted laughter of Lila from the floor.

"You've got a good nose." The Handler comments

"You know, planting her in a psych ward, taking advantage of my simpleton brother, that was smart." Five replies sarcastically as he presses his foot down harder on Lila's throat causing her to struggle

"Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." The Handler states as she looks down at Lila

Five's head whips towards the Handler.

"She's your..." Five starts to question

"Daughter. Yes. And she's my only one, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't crush her windpipe." The Handler answers

Lila continues to struggle but Five reluctantly lifts his foot off her throat letting her go free. She gasps for air as she stands up and makes her way to her mother's side. She then slowly approaches Five getting in his face and states,

"I am so going to enjoy killing you someday."

"Lila, darling, would you give us a minute, please?" The Handler requests

"Yes, the grown-ups need to talk." Five adds with a cocky smile

Lila looks to her mother in hopes that she changes her mind but to no avail. Lila rolls her eyes and walks away to the other side of the room annoyed, angrily flipping a piece of metal so that it clatters to the ground. When Lila is far enough away Five takes a step closer to the Handler and in a low voice asks,

"What is it you want?"

"Do you like jazz, Five?" The Handler asks back

"I'd rather lick a cheese grater." Five retorts

"Aww. Jazz is like a beautiful woman. Complex, emotional, hard to please. She doesn't just give it to you...she makes you work for it." The Handler explains as she walks around the room

Five places his hands in his pockets and turns on his heel to face her. Keeping his distance he replies,

"I have no experience with the type of woman you're talking about so I'm really hoping that you're going somewhere with this analogy."

The Handler walks back over to him and with a smile adds,

"Under my leadership, the Commission would sound more like...jazz."

"And what about the board of directors?" Five questions critically getting up in her face

"Well, that's where you come in." The Handler replies tapping his nose with her pointer finger

Five takes a step back away from her and cocks his head to the side. In a firm tone, he states,

"Nope. No, it isn't."

The Handler walks around Five to the space behind him and elaborates,

"In exchange for the assassination of the board, I'm willing to get you, your family, and that girlfriend you love so dearly out of this timeline and back to 2019 where you belong."

"And what about World War III that's due to kick off in just a few days?" Five inquires turning to look at her

"Once you, your girlfriend, and your siblings are gone, that goes away."

"And the apocalypse when we get back to 2019?"

"That too."

Five leans in looking at her critically. The cynic in him was screaming about the nonchalant nature of her statements. This was a woman who would do anything for power so Five knew there was some type of plan she had in her head. In a lowered voice Five angrily criticizes,

"I distinctly remember you telling me that that apocalypse had to happen, that it was supposed to happen."

The Handler walks around Five once more so she is directly behind him. As she walks she explains,

"Back then I was toeing the company line, but once I'm in charge..."

The Handler then presses herself up against Five's back leans in closer to his ear. Five didn't like how close she was and tensed up as he felt her against him.

We can riff." The Handler whispered in his ear

Five took a step forward putting a small amount of distance between the two as he stated,

"Jazz."

"Exactly." The Handler replies as she walks in front of him again

Five turns and walks away from her scratching the back of his neck. Taking a breath he turns back around to face her, a sizable distance now between them. Looking at the Handler, Five questions,

"What about the board of directors, hmm? I mean, nobody knows who they are."

"Correct. But once every fiscal quarter, they get together for a board meeting."

"Where?" Five asks looking at her curiously

"The question is when. They meet somewhere in the timeline but never in the same place twice. The exact location and date of these board meetings is the most closely-guarded secret in the Commission."

Five looks around, an unsurprised smirk appearing across his face. He turns away for a second as he comments,

"But you know where it's gonna be, don't you?"

"Would I be any good at what I do if I didn't? Listen Five, don't think about it as killing the board for me, think about it as getting to live out the rest of your newfound life with (Y/N)."

With the sound of your name leaving her mouth and hitting his ears he quickly turns on his heel to face her. A wave of adrenaline and anger coursed through his veins as he flashed closer to her. He stared her down with malicious intent as he demanded,

"How do you know her name."

"Oh calm down Five. I work for the commission how could I not? Truly, your love story is one for the ages, don't you think?" The Handler remarks in a cheery yet malevolent tone

She walks towards him that facade of kindness and charity not fooling him in the slightest. As she walks around him she details in that false-kind tone,

"Two best friends fall in love at a young age before being separated for years on end. You witness her death and swear to go back and prevent it with only some book and a necklace to remember her by. How sweet."

As she comes back to stand directly in front of him she comments,

"I bet you're wearing that necklace right now, aren't you?"

Indeed he was. Hiding under the shirt his academy uniform was the locket you had given him all those years ago. Unconsciously, when she mentioned it he brought his hand up to cover where it rested as if trying to protect it from her. Trying to protect you from her. Five lets out an angered huff before commanding firmly,

"You leave her out of this. Whatever game you're trying to play is between you and me."

"Fine. But remember, doomsday's right around the corner, and the way things are going, I'm your only option to save her."

Five takes a step towards her and looks her dead in the eyes.

"Not yet you aren't."

And without another word, he flashes away. He was going to get you and his family out of here and he was going to do it without her help.

You on the other hand had gone outside to look for him but he was nowhere to be found. As you turned and walked back towards Elliott's place you mumbled to yourself,

"Hopefully it doesn't take him four years to get back."

Teleporting yourself inside the building you can hear Charlie say,

"And then when I was ten my mom died and my dad hired a nanny to take care of me instead of you know doing it himself. Because he sucks."

"I wish you could hear me because you are so right!" You can hear Ben yell back

You smirk a little at two of your friends hanging out and bonding over shitty dads. You still couldn't relate but it was funny to hear them so passionate about it. Transporting yourself upstairs you tell the two of them,

"Can't find him."

"Well, the good news is he's like a boomerang. He always comes back." Charlie replies cheerfully before adding "I don't blame him though. That family meeting was shit."

"He has a point. It was so bad." Ben comments

You plop down on the couch across from the two of them and ask aloud,

"When was the last time we actually had a good family gathering?"

"Our 13th birthday party," Ben answers just a little too fast

He wasn't wrong though. Granted, you had never been to a family gathering again until Reginald's funeral but from that experience, you were sure that there were probably plenty of awful gatherings before as well.

"I guess it was better than it could've gone though. It was mainly a lot of arguing and only one murder attempt this time." You comment

"You base how well a gathering goes on how many attempted murders there are?" Charlie questions

"Partially," you answer

"I say this with the utmost respect but y'all are fucked up." Charlie states

"Yeah. I know." You reply nodding your head

You kick your feet up on the coffee table trying to find some type of relaxation after all of the mess that had occurred. It had felt like a week's worth of activities was shoved into less than 24 hours. If only you could put a stop to this whole apocalypse mess. You lean back more on the couch and as you do so Ben asks,

"So you've been living with my dad in this time?"

"Yup. I didn't choose it though, it was more of just a domino effect of events. Dropped in the alley, found by mom, who was an actual person in the '60s surprisingly, we met your dad, human mom adopted me, human mom started dating your dad, and then we just permanently moved in with him." You explain "But it's alright, I typically just hang out with Charlie and we avoid people most of the time so it's been fine. Right, Charlie?"

"It's decent," Charlie says with a shit-eating grin

Ben gets a laugh from Charlie's impersonal response and you roll your eyes.

"Okay, wow." you respond sarcastically before turning to Ben and asking "What have you been up to Ben?"

"Reluctantly following Klaus and his cult around for the past 3 years because I had nowhere else to go."

"You know I'm both surprised and not surprised that Klaus started a cult." You respond

"From what you told me it seems pretty on-brand for him (Y/N)," Charlie says

"Well, he rolled the highest charisma stat of the family." You responded

"Huh?" Ben questions

"Don't worry about it. It's not important. Just an old D&D reference that my friends would get." You reply to him, your voice dropping off

You missed your friends. You missed a lot of things from 2019 but the experiences and memories with them are what you missed most of all. You loved being with Charlie and you wouldn't trade his friendship for anything but it was the little things like weekly D&D or going out and wrecking criminals or Wii Just Dance competitions that you wished you had back. You had to get out of this timeline at some point so you hoped you'd see them again.

"So where have you been staying now since you've been back in Dallas, Ben?" Charlie questions somehow forgetting he can't hear the response

"The cult has a sprawling estate in the more affluential part of Dallas. It's been pretty abandoned but we're all back now." Ben answers also forgetting that Charlie can't hear him

Charlie and Ben stare at each other in silence waiting for someone to say something. You snap out of your thoughts and burst out laughing realize what was going on. It was even funnier because while you could see Ben looking back you knew anyone else viewing this would see Charlie just staring off in the distance. Through your laughs, you chime in,

"Charlie, you can't hear him, remember?"

"Oh right," Charlie replies with a small chuckle

"Anyway, he's living in the abandoned estate near our houses. I guess it's not so abandoned anymore though since the whole cult is back."

"Oh, so that's whose cult lived by us. Small world I guess." Charlie says

"It must be interesting living with a cult." You remark

"It's a mess," Ben replies

"A mess? It can't be that bad can it?" You question

"You should stop by and visit tomorrow. See it for yourself." Ben suggests

"Well, we'll have to see where the day goes tomorrow given the...everything." You explain gesturing vaguely

You were about to say more when you suddenly felt a quick flash of disturbance. It was a familiar feeling and knew exactly what it correlated to. Turning your attention towards the downstairs portion of the building you called out,

"Five, is that you?"

After an unfortunate encounter with the Handler, Five was in a poor mood, to say the least. But there was just something about the sound of you calling his name that made him feel a bit better. A small smile came to his face and he spatial jumped once more up to the top part of Elliott's building. He saw you sitting on the couch and asked,

"How did you know I was back?"

"I can feel the disturbance of your spatial jumps. Feels like the back of my neck got flicked."

"Ah, I see." He replies

He then walks over to the couch you were on and sits right down next to you. Wrapping one arm around your shoulders he pulls you closer and places a soft kiss on your temple making you blush.

"Where did you go, Five?" Charlie questions

"Unfortunately, I had a run-in with Diego's crazy girlfriend and found out her mom is my former boss." Five explains

"So she wasn't just some random girl. She was a plant." You comment

"Yes. She was trying to get to me the whole time." Five adds

"Of course Diego would be the type to fall for a plant," Ben said sarcastically

You rolled your eyes but he had a point. You loved your brother dearly and in many cases, he was very tactile and smart but when it came to women and his emotions he had some room for improvement. As you all sat there you could hear the phone ring from the other room. Charlie promptly gets up and goes to answer it.

"Hello? Oh hi. Yes, I can put her on the phone." Charlie says before calling a bit louder "(Y/N) it's for you."

You were curious as to who could be calling you so you got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen with Five following along behind you. Taking the phone from Charlie you place it to your ear and say,

"Hello?"

"Oh, (Y/N) sweetie it's so good to hear your voice! Charlie had called last night but said that you had gone to bed already. I was so worried about you. Are you doing alright?" Your mom asked

"Yes mom, I'm doing alright," you responded

"Oh thank goodness. Listen, Charlie's dad said it's safe for the two of you to come back home." Your mom added

"Oh, okay. I'll let him know. We'll be back soon." You reply

"Okay, sweetie! I love you!"

"Love you too Mom."

You hang up the phone and turn around to look at the group of people behind you. Focusing your attention on Charlie you tell him,

"Your dad said it's safe for us to go back home."

"Oh." Charlie says "That's unfortunate."

"Very." You reply with a sigh

Everything was moving so fast. You had just gotten your boyfriend and you barely got to spend any time with him. Sure you two had a few sweet moments together but with the looming threat of the apocalypse again you didn't know how many more you'd get and when. Your poor mother though. She probably stayed up all night worried about you. You didn't want to prolong that worry because it wasn't something she deserved. You turn your attention to Five and place a hand on his cheek.

"I swear we never get enough time together," you say as you look into his eyes

Five wrap his arms lightly around your waist and looks at you with love in his eyes.

"No time is ever enough time with you, ma chérie."

"Perhaps you're right," you comment

"I know I am." He jokes

You roll your eyes at him. Even in the most chaotic of times he always managed to make your heart skip a beat.

"Well, I better head out then." You state

Five leans down and places a kiss on the top of your head, holding you closer in the process. Oh, how you loved this boy. Tilting your head up you placed a peck to his cheek before slowly leaving his embrace. Gently, you pull your hand back from his cheek and see how he leans into your touch. You smile at him,

"I'll see you soon my love."

"As soon as can be." He replies

You and Charlie then started to make your way out of the building with Five following the two of you until you reached the door. You looked back at him one more time before finally exiting and making your way to Charlie's car. The two of you get in the car and Charlie drives the way back to your house. When you arrive, you both exit the car and head inside. You had barely stepped through the door when your mom threw her arms around you pulling you into a tight hug in the same manner as when you came home after your car being shot up only a few days before. Your poor mother having to deal with so much stress about your safety in only a few days' time. You wouldn't wish this on anyone.

"I'm so glad you're okay, sweetie." Your mom exclaims

"Me too, mom." You reply

From the corner of your eye, you can see Reginald approaching you all. You let go of your mother and turn to face him along with Charlie and your mom.

"I see that you managed to bring her back safely," Reginald says to Charlie

"Yes. Not a scratch on her, sir." Charlie states

"Very well. It's pleasant to have you back at the manor (Y/N)." Reginald states

"Thank you." You reply flatly

You all stood there for a second but you didn't want to be there much longer. Trying to make a quick getaway you start to walk towards the stairs but look back at the others saying,

"I think I'm going to change out of this gala dress and into something more comfortable so I can relax after such a day of tension. How about you go home and do the same Charlie and then we can all have dinner together."

"Sure, that sounds like a good idea. I'll be back." He says before leaving the manor and heading to his car

You continue to walk while looking towards your mom and Reginald and accidentally bump into Marie causing her to drop a piece of paper on the ground. Bending over you pick up the paper as she profusely apologizes to you. Quickly, you skim over the paper and see what it reads.

From the Office of Sir Reginald Hargreeves

To My Pursuers:

I, Reginald Hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November, 1963, at half-past seven o'clock.

1624 Magnolia Street Dallas, Texas

You knew that location and you had a strong hunch of who those pursuers that were being addressed were. Looks like you knew what you were doing at 7:30 pm tomorrow. You hand the letter back to Marie and accept her apologies saying that you were not paying attention to where you were going before heading upstairs to your room. The rest of the night went on without a hitch and as usual, Charlie slept over for the night. The two of you stayed up late as you discussed the events that had occurred in prior days and how the dots were starting to connect together. You also detailed the letter you had read and your plans for the following day.

That was not a smart decision though as it led to both of you sleeping in significantly late. By the time you two woke up, it was already the afternoon. Trying to make sure you were able to do everything you wanted to do, you both quickly got ready ate a small meal, and sped off down the road towards Klaus' cult estate. Both of you had wanted to see it in person and wondered what went on behind the closed doors. And you were already invited by Ben to see the chaos of cult life so why would you turn such an invitation down. As you approached the driveway to the estate Charlie slowed the car down. Turning into the driveway Charlie carefully approached the building. Once you were close enough to it you stepped out of the car and walked the short distance to the entrance as you did so a woman in loose blue clothing and a flower crown noticed the two of you and smiles.

"Hello, friends! Are you here to meet the prophet?" She asks in a kind voice

"Why yes, we are." Charlie states

"A spirit of your prophet invited us to come today." You add

"How lovely! Please follow me." She instructs

The two of you look at each other before following the woman inside the house and down a corridor. As you follow her you see lines of people kneeling on opposite sides of a door. Some are playing tambourines while others hold baskets in their hands. Suddenly, the doors to a room open and you watch as Klaus walks out of the room in only his underwear. That was not a sight you ever thought you would have to see and yet, you did. The followers who held baskets in their hands threw flower petals at Klaus. Whatever was going on had barely even started but you could see why Ben had called it a mess. You and Charlie approach a little closer and see a large room filled with people in blue clothing sitting on the floor. You and Charlie give each other a side-eye glance before looking back at the scene before you;

"Okay, thank you. Sit down. My name is Klaus, and I am an alcoho...Sorry, that's the wrong meeting." Klaus starts

Klaus lets out a nervous laugh but the group is unfazed. You watch as the followers look on with eager eyes as they listen to every word he says. Realizing he needs to say something Klaus continues,

"Uh, in my walkabout, I did a lot of thinking, searching, ruminating, and there's something that I'd like to share with all of you. I'm a fraud. Yeah, I- I've been lying to all of you from- from the start, and, uh...I'm a complete and total fraud." You can see Klaus look over to Ben after finishing his statement and Ben giving him back an acceptable nod. The crowd murmurs to themselves but not long after one man stands up from the crowd and looks around at the others. "Me too. I- I'm a fraud too." The man says

"What is going on?" Charlie whispers to you

"I don't know." you reply quietly

The man approaches Klaus and knees before him continuing,

"I'm the worst kind of fraud. I- I am a fraud to myself. But your scriptures say, As long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive."

"He used the song I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor as his "scripture" to these people. I bet he did, I bet he stole it." You comment quietly to Charlie

Right after you finish your statement to Charlie, Klaus replies to the man, "But that's not scripture. Okay? That's a song lyric by disco diva Gloria Gaynor, and I stole it!"

"Called it." You state

The crowd murmurs the name Gloria Gaynor to each other in confusion as they wait for Klaus to speak more. Klaus didn't know what to say though and you could see him cracking under the pressure of trying to admit his falseness to the group.

"Look, eh, you guys don't wanna follow me. I can't lead you anywhere. I'm not a guru, I'm not a messiah, I'm...I'm a...fraud! And I don't know what I'm doing up here. I- I don't. I'm just, you know...making it up as we...You- You people should all just...go back to your families." Klaus rambles

The man who had kneeled in front of Klaus before could be heard crying. Letting out a sigh Klaus approaches the man, places his hands on the back of his neck so he will look at him, and in a hushed tone states, "Keechie...Stop, stop, stop, stop. Look, look, look at me in the face, okay? It's okay. It's okay, though. Listen. Everything is gonna be okay. Okay?" "I understand." The man replies

"Good," Klaus says "When we admit our own fraudulence, only then can we experience true humility." The man continues "No, no, no, no, no, no! That's not what I meant. It's not what I meant." Klaus exclaims turning to the group

All the members one by one stand up exclaiming aloud how they are a fraud. You look across the hall and see Ben there standing with a shocked face. As Klaus climbs up the few stairs to stand in the archway again the lady who had brought you into the house approaches Klaus and says,

"Prophet, two visitors have come to see you."

Klaus takes a look in your direction and sees you and Charlie standing there. Opening his arms wide he exclaims with a smile on his face,

"(Y/N)! Come here!"

Reluctantly, you approach him and bring him into a hug. It was quite awkward given the fact he was only in his underwear but yet it was kind of sweet. Even with all the stuff he had done and was currently doing he was still the same Klaus you knew as a kid. You could hear as the crowd of followers went from exclaiming their fraudulence to quiet whispers.

"What brings you and your friend here (Y/N)?" Klaus asks

"We were invited by a spirit of yours," you answer

Klaus takes a look over towards Ben before replying,

"Must've been the pushy and annoying spirit that dragged you here."

"Prophet, who is this (Y/N)?" Keechie asks

"Ah. (Y/N) is my...soul sister..." Klaus lies "We have walked similar paths in life, seen similar things, and although we were physically separated as children our souls are intertwined."

There are oohs and ahhs that come from the crowd of people in the room before you and from behind you, you can hear Charlie trying to stifle laughter. Turning to look at him you shoot him a death glare. This was not entertaining.

"Oh soul sister to the prophet, do you have wisdom of your own that you can bless upon us?" Keechie asks as he kneels before you

"Oh jeez..." You mumble pinching the bridge of your nose "what did I get myself into?"

"Klaus, don't put (Y/N) through this." Ben comments from the sidelines

"Uh..." Klaus says "Hey soul sister, do you have anything for them?"

"Oh my god, Klaus," Ben complains

From behind you, you can hear Charlie start a slow chant,

"Knowledge. Knowledge. Knowledge."

You whip towards him and exclaim,

"Charlie!"

He does not stop though, instead, he just continues to chant and encourages the followers until all of them are chanting,

"Knowledge! Knowledge! Knowledge!"

"Fine!" You exclaim

All the people in the room quiet down and look at you intently. Taking a deep breath you wrack your brain for something to tell them. Completely bullshitting this whole ordeal you take a page out of Klaus' playbook and start to quote a song lyric,

"If you're lost...you can look, and you will find me. Time after time. If you fall...I will catch you. I'll be waiting. Time after time."

You then turn to Klaus and simultaneously you both repeat,

"Time after time."

When the two of you finish there is an uproar of cheers. People excitedly repeat the "knowledge" that you had blessed them with to themselves and to each other. These people were so brainwashed, it was ridiculous.

"What the fuck..." You say to yourself

"Yeah, I know." Klaus responds "How about I go put on some clothes and give the two of you a tour?"

"Why not? I guess..." You reply confused

Klaus goes and puts clothes on but as he does so many of the members of his cult come up and bow before you or touch you. it was odd, to say the least, and you definitely wanted it to stop. When Klaus came back out with his clothes he told the members to disperse as he took you by one arm and Charlie by the other showing you around. the estate was nice, but every time you ran into a member they'd look at you and Klaus in odd reverence. After what felt like forever you and Charlie decided that it was time to leave and never come back. You said goodbye to Klaus and waved goodbye to Ben, although you were sure that you would see them quite soon. Making your way back to Charlie's car you saw another person walking up towards the estate building. You can see Charlie's expression change from neutral to surprised.

"Hey, Dave." Charlie greets slightly confused

"Oh hey, Charlie. How are ya?" Dave asks

"Doing pretty well. How about you? The hardware business treating you well?" Charlie replies

"It's going well. I'm actually joining the army. Shipping off in about a week." Dave answers "But who's this Charlie? Your girlfriend?"

"Oh no she has a boyfriend already. This is my close friend (Y/N). (Y/N) this is Dave, we went to high school together but he was a grade above me. He was one of the only people who was nice to me." Charlie says

You extend your hand out to shake his and he grabs your hand shaking back.

"I haven't seen you around before are you new to the area?" Dave asks

"Oh, I dropped into Dallas about four years ago. I live with my mom and her partner down the road." You explain

"Well, it's very nice to meet you (Y/N). It's unfortunate we didn't get to meet sooner, but hopefully when I get back you, Charlie, and I can all talk and get some floats down at the diner." Dave says in a cheerful tone

This poor boy. He's so sweet and innocent. You just met him and you wished you could stop him from going off to war. Especially since he was probably head to Vietnam. It was an unnecessary war. All of the proxy wars were bullshit but you couldn't do much about it. You put on a smile as best as you can.

"That sounds lovely. I look forward to it." you comment "But we must get going, I have a family dinner to attend to, and I really don't want to be late."

"Alright, well it was nice to see you Charlie, and nice to meet you (Y/N). Hope you have a nice dinner." Dave says

"Thank you." You respond

"Thanks, Dave," Charlie adds

With that Dave heads off towards the mansion and you and Charlie head towards the car. When the two of you get into the car Charlie comments sarcastically,

"Oh, I dropped into Dallas about four years ago. Real clever."

"Shut up and drive." you retort

Charlie rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face and pulls out of the driveway heading towards the hotel where the dinner would be taking place.

While you were headed towards the Southland Life hotel, Five had already arrived. He looked down at his invitation to make sure he was at the right place but once he had done so he headed towards the entrance and inside the building. Making his way up an ornate staircase he looked around a bit before finding the elevator. Calling the elevator, the doors opened and Five stepped inside. He looked at the panel of floor buttons before pressing one of them and waited for the doors to close. None of his siblings had shown up. He was going to have to deal with the old man alone. He was prepared to do so...somewhat. But still he had hoped for him and his siblings to go together to confront him. Five stared off as the elevators started to close trying to build up thr confidence to face his father after all these years. He wished you could've been there by his side, but you had no reason to be invited, you weren't a "pursuer". Right as the door were about to shut and hand comes in to bring the doors back open.

"Wait up." Diego says entering the elevator "Hold it." Allison adds "Hey, everyone." Klaus greets drunkenly

Vanya enters the elevator silently as Luther follows quietly saying, "Excuse me."

Five looks around at his siblings. They all came. Five faces forward and a small smile appears.

"Good. We're all here." He says

Five's face returns to a neutral expression as the elevator doors finally close and they head up the floors to where they would be meeting their father. As they do an awful smell starts to spread within the elevator. "Oh..." Allison says

"Oof." Five complains as he pinches his nose closed

"Luther!" Klaus exclaims

"Oh, my God." Vanya comments "Sorry, I'm nervous." Luther apologizes

When the doors open to the floor everyone rushes out trying to get away from the toxic environment inside the elevator. Walking into the tiki bar where they were meeting the siblings catch their breath and take in some clean air. As they all make their way around the table in the center of the room Five turns to his siblings and says, "All right, when Dad gets here, I'll do the talking, okay?" "Got a few questions for him myself." Diego responds

"Hey, we don't wanna scare him off. He might be able to help us stop doomsday, get us home." Five retorts annoyed "No, we need to figure out why he's planning to kill the president."

It was ridiculous that he was still continuing on with this whole "Dad is going to kill Kennedy" thing. Could he not give it up for a day? For an hour? Of course not. That would require some form of critical thinking, of which he had none. "This is a matter of life and death, you imbecile." Five chastises "Okay, yeah, maybe we should take turns talking. Yeah?" Vanya suggests picking up something from a nearby table "Here, whoever has got this conch shell gets to talk." "Vanya, we don't have time for a debate, okay?" Five replies already frustrated at the group "Maybe I should lead. We all know I'm a better public speaker than the rest." Allison suggests grabbing the conch from Vanya "Okay, Daddy's girl." Diego comments sarcastically "Oh, jealous, Number Two?" Allison retorts "Hey, no more numbers. No more bullshit." Diego demands as he approaches Allison "Uh, Diego. You don't have the conch." Luther mentions politely

Diego gives Luther a smile before grabbing the conch from Allison's hand. Once he fully has it though he quickly proceeds to throw it at a wall smashing it to pieces. "Classic." Allison comments, rolling her eyes

As the siblings argued upstairs you had just arrived at the building. Charlie had parked around the back so you wouldn't been seen by anybody who may have arrived for this meeting. Before you got out of the car Charlie questions,

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I should be there. Whatever is happening is important and I should know about it." You reply

"This is going to be a family gathering but with Reginald. I can only assume it will go worse than the events of yesterday. Do you really want to deal with that?" Charlie asks confused

"No. But I feel I need to be there. This an issue for all eight of us."

"Okay but how are you going to get in unnoticed? You weren't invited after all." Charlie inquires

You step out of the car but lean down so you can look at him through the window.

"I'll just go in invisible. I'll only reveal myself if necessary."

"Alright. I'm going to go park a block away on North Griffin Street. Come find me after." Charlie says before adding "Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it." you respond

You stand up and watch Charlie drive away for a bit before turning to face the building. You take a breath before turning invisible and making your way inside. Taking the back entrance you head up towards the lobby and press the button to call the private elevator. You had been here plenty of times before for various meetings and parties that Reginald had to attend so you knew your way around pretty easily. Any regular person would take the main one but in a side hallway there was a special one used for grand entrances. Thinking that everyone must already be up there you knew that you could get in relatively unnoticed by using this elevator. When the doors open you stepped in and turned around, but as you were about press the close door button Reginald walked in to the elevator.

Shit.

You sucked in your breath quickly and covered your mouth trying to be as quiet as possible. You couldn't be found out. Not like this at least. Quietly you moved to the left of the elevator and tried to stay out of the way. Reginald reached for the button to the tiki bar floor and soon enough the doors closed and the elevator start to rise. When the elevator doors open Reginald quickly storms out of the elevator pushing through the private entrance doors. Still invisible you slip out of the elevator and through the door. As you enter the tiki bar you can see the shocked faces of all the Hargreeves children present. It had been a long time since any of them had actually interacted with their father. You head over to a seat near the table as you watch the scene unfold before you. Reginald approaches the table that the rest of them were surrounding and takes a seat. Once most of the Hargreeves had sat down as well he criticizes,

"Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked me, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me..."

He is cut off by Klaus though who sits down with a drink and greets, "Hey, Pop. How's it hangin'?"

Reginald looks over at Klaus annoyed before finishing his statement,

"Dad."

He looks back to the group and continues, "My reconnaissance tells me you're not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so who are you?"

There are a lot of deep breaths and looks off to the side. Saying they were his kids was probably a more difficult task than it looked from the outside. You could see your boyfriend shifting nervously in his chair as you then realized this was the first time he was face to face with Reginald since he ran away. Quietly, you approach him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You can feel him jump slightly as he turns his head back to see what was there. He looks confused for a second as he sees nothing but you squeeze his shoulder reassuringly and he realizes that it's you there with him. You just couldn't be seen. As no one continues to answer Five turns back to face his father and speaks up for the rest of the group, "We're your children. We're from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy."

You notice as Klaus drunkenly raises his martini glass after Five mentions the academy. What an odd thing to cheers. Then again you went and saw the cult that Klaus ran and compared to that it wasn't as odd. "Why on earth would I adopt six-" Reginald starts to question but is cut off by Allison

"Seven." Allison corrects "One of us isn't here."

"Dead. One of us is dead." Diego solemnly adds

Five reaches up and places his hand on top of your invisible one. To others it just looked like he was touching his shoulder but really he was reaching to you. He was glad that he had you there with him. From not too far away you can see Ben sitting at a table behind Klaus. "Dead, yes, but I'm here. Klaus!" Ben exclaims to him

Klaus turns to what looks like empty space but is really where Ben is and says, "Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba."

"Tell them I'm here!" Ben demands "Enough of that now." Klaus retorts

Reginald and the rest of the Hargreeves look on at Klaus' unexplained behavior. When Klaus turns back around Reginald looks at the group once more and harshly asks,

"Regardless, what would possess me to adopt seven ill-mannered malcontents?" "We all have special abilities." Five elaborates "Special? In what sense?" Reginald inquires "In the superpower sense." Luther adds

Reginald sits up straight, a stern look on his face as he critically remarks,

"Called me old-fashioned, but I'm a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence. Show me." "Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden..." Allison complains taking a sip from her drink "We're not circus animals, okay? We're not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement." Luther retorts

Immediately, Diego pulls out one of his knives and throws it forward redirecting it so it just barely passes Reginald and lands in a wooden post across the room. You could tell by the look on Diego's face that he was frustrated. Reginald looks down at the notebook he had brought with him and starts to jot down notes. All of the Hargreeves lean in to try and see what was being written down. "What are you writing?" Diego asks "You are zero for two, young man." Reginald taunts

Quickly, Diego stands up and tries to make his way over to but Five flashes in front of him. Putting his hands up to hold Diego back he whispers to him, "Stop!"

"Now that is interesting," Reginald states as he looks on surprised

Diego sits himself back down and you decide to go sit at the bar. From the way things were going you felt it could get messy and you didn't want to be a part of that. "All right, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything." Five starts to explain as he heads back to his seat "Except she never uses it." Diego jabs

Allison turns angrily to Diego and rumors, "I heard a rumor you punched yourself in the face."

As the rumor said Diego punched himself in the face. "Aah! Damn it!" He cried out

Allison slurps on her drink and gives him a pointed look even if he wasn't looking back. Five uses his hand to gesture to Reginald his point about Allison's power. Reginald then turns to Vanya and questions, "And you?" "Uh, maybe we don't take Vanya for a test run," Luther interjects "Oh, yeah, that's probably not a good idea," Klaus adds "It's fine. I can handle it." Vanya replies

"Handle it? Last time you handled it, you definitely blew up the moon." Allison states

Vanya doesn't listen though and instead picks up a spoon from the table and brings it back. Her siblings watch on as she brings it forward to hit it against her cup. "No, Vanya, don't!" Five exclaims

Vanya does not stop though and hits the cup causing a soundwave to ring out. Focusing the sound energy on the plate of fruit in front of her she causes it to explode. The fruit splatters onto everyone, except you since you had walked away. But although you didn't get hit with the fruit you did get hit with the soundwave. Doubling over from the pain of the disturbance the soundwave had created bite your tongue not trying to make any immediate sounds to alert the others to your presence. You would only become visible if it was necessary. Taking some quiet breaths, you sit on the bar top and are able to get back to normal and focus again. "Oops," Vanya says softly as everyone wipes the fruit off of them "That was impressive." Luther comments "Look, we know that you're involved in a plot to assassinate the president," Diego explains getting up from his chair

"You were recently hospitalized, isn't that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia." Reginald rebukes "Am I? Explain this." Diego retorts as he pulls out a photo of Reginald and shows it to him "That's you. That's two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president's gonna get shot."

Reginald takes a glance at the photo before looking back up at Diego and commenting, "Well, I suppose you've solved it. You've single-handedly unearthed my nefarious plot."

You can see a slight glimpse of hope in Diego's eyes but it's cut short as Reginald ridicules,

"Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion. The sad reality is that you're a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head."

From the bar, you watch as the light in Diego's eyes slowly starts to fade and is overtaken by sadness and disappointment. Slowly he sits down more and more as Reginald's words cut deeper. You had seen them look on his face many times before, it was the same expression he would take as a child after Reginald harshly criticized him. Anger began to rise in you as you saw the trauma of his time in the academy and the feeling of not being good enough take over him. When Diego sits back in his seat he looks directly at Reginald and stutters out sadly, "You're wr-wrong."

Reginald ignores this though and starts to continue,

"Furthermore-"

You were done with this man and his mistreatment of your brother. Nobody talked to him like that. Not on your watch. Quickly, you whip out a knife and throw it in the direction of Reginald having it land in the spot on the table in front of him. The group all looks at the knife in shock.

"Enough." You yelled

They all turn to look at you. Jumping down from where you were sitting on the bar you slowly walk over towards the table.

"That was a warning, so I'd choose your next words carefully. I have nine more of those on my person and if you recall my 20th birthday" You firmly state "I don't miss."

Everyone was shocked to see you there, but most of all was Reginald.

"What are you doing here? You weren't invited to this affair." He demands

"Oh Reggie, I think it's highly important for me to be here." You say in a sarcastic tone

"How did you even get in here?" He questions

"I took the elevator with you." You explain "And then I sat around here for a while."

"Impossible. I didn't see you." He retorts

"You know Reggie, for someone who touts his intelligence you really can't put two and two together can you?" You sneer "Whatever do you mean?"

"I really have to spell it out for you, huh?" You say as you take steps closer to him "I'm. One. Of them."

"Oh really? So what can you do then?" Reginald asks in an insulting tone

"I can do a lot of things."

"Well go on then." He requests

You then start to explain your powers to Reginald. He didn't deserve an explanation but you did want to shove your abilities in his face.

"Well, there's a plethora of things I can do. You already know I can go invisible." You say as you make yourself disappear

"I can jump from place to place on a whim." You continue as you hop to different spots around the room

I can go through things and things can go through me." You add as you walk through the tables and walls around the room

"I can make things denser or lighter. Luther catch." You say as you throw him a glass

He catches it but is immediately pinned down to the ground and can't get up. You walk over to him and pick up the glass before turning back to Reginald.

"I can change the state of matter of an object." You explain as you turn the glass into a liquid and smoke before turning it back to normal and placing it on an adjacent table

"Hell, I can make things blow up by just thinking about it enough." You add with a smile as the glass blows up behind you

"I can create fire and water and smoke out of practically nothing. And I can see and feel disturbances in the world. I can do just about anything and you know why?" You ask rhetorically

"Why?" Reginald asks as he vigorously writes down notes

"Because I can control the things that make up this entire world. Molecules." you finish before adding "Was my demonstration to your satisfaction, sir?"

"Perhaps. Though, I am appalled that you were living under my roof for years and said nothing of your abilities."

"Why would I tell you about my abilities? You work with government. I wasn't about to be sent away to the MK Ultra project or used as a weapon of war. Now, let me get a drink before we really jump into things." You state walking over to the bar

"Absolutely not. What have I told you about drinking?" Reginald calls

"Yeah yeah, your mind is like a gold statue alcohol will only dull the brilliance, yadda yadda yadda." You mock "I'm still getting a drink."

"No." He demands firmly

The Hargreeves look back and forth between you and their father. The conversation between the two of you was contentious and yet there was something off about the way Reginald talked to you.

"And why not Sir Buzzkill?" You retort

"Because I'm your father and you'll respect my wishes." He states

And there it was. Reginald saw you as his kid. The way he was talking to you was odd because he was talking to you...like a parent. All the real Hargreeves children look on in shock. Their eyes wide and their jaws dropped at what he has said. There's a lull of silence before you burst out laughing.

"HA! You're not my dad. I have a dad. He's dead, but I have one." You say in an amused tone

You then head towards the bar and start looking through the drinks as you complain,

"Just because I live with you or you're dating my mom doesn't make me your kid. You tried to do this before, numbered your kids one through seven based on how much you liked them pretty much, and then were like you're number zero because it comes before one. No. I'm not a number. I'm not your favorite kid. I'm not your kid at all. I'm (Y/N)."

When you finally find something good, you grab a glass and start to pour it as you continue,

"Furthermore, If I were your child, I would've turned out like those sitting before you. The closest you'll probably ever get is the unfortunate title of father-in-law."

There's silence once more as everyone takes what you said in. You take a sip of your drink as Reginald looks on taken aback.

"You..." he inquires confused "are partnered with one of them?"

Grabbing your drink you walk over towards the table as you say,

"Yes I am and I don't appreciate that comparison type tone you used when saying that."

You continue to walk and go stand behind Five, placing a hand on his shoulder once more. You take a sip of your drink before adding,

"Honestly I'm surprised you're not happier. A woman of my stature coupled with one of your sons? And might I add, he's the most competent of your sons.”

"Hey!" Diego exclaims

"When you decide to leave JFK alone I will reconsider." You reply

"Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it." Five interjects

"War? Men will always be at war with each other." Reginald replies

"No, this isn't just some war. I'm talking about a doomsday. The end of the world." Five elaborates "Well, you're the special ones, aren't you? Why don't you band together and do something about it?" Reginald suggests

You all stare at Reginald but as you do you solely hear Ben yell out, "All right. Screw it."

Ben then runs and jumps into Klaus' body causing his arms to go up in the air and his body to start shaking. He was possessing him. You had no words for the given situation but the others did. "Is he having a seizure?" Allison wonders "Overdosing probably," Diego suggests "Should we do something?" Luther questions

"Klaus! Now is not the time. What are you doing?" Five questions

Klaus, or rather Klaus' body turns towards Reginald. It looked like a struggle though.

"I'm..." Klaus' voice says "Out with it, boy." Reginald commands "...Ben!" His voice forces out

Immediately after he falls to the ground and starts gasping for air. You can see Ben's passed-out figure next to him. Reginald looks on disgusted before stacking his papers and commenting, "Well...thank you for coming. I've seen about enough."

Reginald then gets up and starts to walk away from the table but Luther slams his hands down, stands up, and rips his shirt open exclaiming,

"Look at what you did to me. Look at it!” "Oh, shit. Why?" Five complains as slouches back in his chair

How did his siblings manage to completely mess up everything again, like it was the only thing they knew how to do. Downing more of your drink to deal with the progressively awkward nature of the situation you stood next to your boyfriend's side. Five reached up and took your hand in his. If none of his siblings were going to support him at least he knew he had you. Reginald looks at the scene before him before turning to Five and asking, "You in the culottes. A word, in private?"

He then walks away from the table and goes to sit over at the bar. You and Five look at each other as the rest of his siblings make their way to the elevator to leave. As Diego passes you let go of Five's hand and grave Diego's wrist stopping him in his tracks. He turns towards you and you can tell he was still upset from what transpired earlier. Without saying another word you bring him into a hug. No matter how upset you were at his actions you weren't going to place that above your love for your brother. Diego held you tightly, you were the only one who stood up for him when his father was beating him down. You were the best sister he could've asked for. From the elevator, Luther can be heard calling,

"Diego let's go.”

Diego pulls back from the hug and looks at you once more before silently turning and leaving. You hear the sound of the elevator door close and all that is left is you, Five, and Reginald. You turn to Five who is getting up to head over to talk at the bar and he turns to you.

"Just give us a moment." Five states

"Are you sure? I can pretend to leave and stay." You suggest

"No, darling. I need to do this myself." Five replies

You look at him softly and bring a hand up to his cheek. He places his hand on top of yours holding it in place as he gives a kiss to your palm. He then closes your hand up into a ball before gently holding it on the space above his heart.

"I'll meet you down in the lobby." Five says quietly

"Okay." You whisper back

Five lets go of your hand and the two of you split, him walking over to Reginald at the bar and you walking toward the main elevator. As you press the button to call the elevator up you hear Reginald call out behind you,

"(Y/N) I expect you home promptly.”

You let out a huff as you turn to face him.

"Fine...just don't get mom involved in this. She's already gone through so much with me." you softly ask of him

"I will not get your mother involved. Not even I want to place that stress on her." Reginald responds

"Good." You say nodding your head, a far-off look in your eyes "...good”

The doors to the elevator open and you reluctantly enter it. You press the button to the lobby floor and as the doors close the last thing you see is Five taking his seat next to Reginald. You hoped he would be okay being in front of him without you.

"You seem to be the sensible one, or as described, the most competent of the bunch." Reginald comments

"That's because I'm the oldest. You know, technically, I'm older than you right now."

Reginald looks at him slightly confused but when a bartender appears and places a bottle of brandy on the counter he offers,

"Cognac?"

"Just a smidge." Five says with a half-smile "The other night you quoted Homer at me. Why?" Reginald questions "You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less." "You know, your dear companion called my coworker and ignorant ass in ancient greek the first time I encountered her." Reginald states

"Sounds about right. She has a sharp tongue and an independent mind, I admire it." Five explains, an amused smirk rising to his face as he thought of you.

Reginald slides him a glass of cognac and the two of them give silent cheers before taking a sip. Five places his glass down and his tone changes to a more serious one,

"This world ends in five days if we don't get out of the timeline."

"Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on."

"We can do something about this one." Five states

"Man's greatest flaw: the illusion of control." Reginald retorts "I need your help. All right? You're my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don't wanna make. What do you know about time travel?" "In theory?" Reginald asks

"In practice."

"I know it's akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-" Reginald starts

"As an acorn. Yeah." Five finishes unenthused

"What transpired when you tried traveling before?" "I botched it. Big time." Five complains

"How?"

"I jumped too far forward in time. Accidentally brought (Y/N) with me and she got stuck 11 years in the future. Then I jumped without her and got stuck in an apocalypse for 45 years. Then I jumped too far backward, except this time I brought everyone with me." "Maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades." Reginald suggests "Seconds? Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I'm trying to accomplish." Five remarks "So much can change in a matter of seconds. One could overthrow an empire." Reginald starts before pausing for a second "One could fall in love. An acorn doesn't become an oak overnight."

"I was really hoping you had more than that." Five admits

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help." Reginald apologizes "I'm sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid. I didn't know any better."

Reginald looks over at Five before raising his glass and saying,

"No skin off my teeth, old man."

The two of them sit in silence and when Five finishes his drink he gets up and leaves. Taking the elevator down he finds you in the lobby. When the doors open you quickly make your way over to him and wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into a hug. Five holds you close but pulls back to look at you. Something was off about him.

"Did everything go okay?" You asked

Five looks away from you and off in the distance.

"Yes but..."

"But what?" you inquire softly

Five lets out a sigh and looks back at you. This was not the situation he wanted to be in at all. In a solemn tone, he answers,

"If I'm going to get us out of this timeline I need to go make deal with the devil."

"Well then, you lead the way and I'll follow you out." you reply "Just promise me something.”

"Anything."

"Don't turn around until you're sure we're all in the clear." you respond

Five pressed his forehead against yours as he held you close.

"Of course my love." he whispered

You tilted your head up towards his and place a soft peck on his lips before stepping away.

"I'll see you soon," you said

Five quietly nodded his head in response and with that he flashed away to go play some jazz with the devil in hell.

________________________________

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @sunsetcurve-1995 @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @emily-hargreeves @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda @thethirdwheelfriend @mysticracoon @isnt-it-loverly @officiallydarkgeek @lady1505 @always-the-very-worst @tinypandagirl @libidinexx @lemongrabbuns @itwasallred @deadandoverit @shlokage @keksi249 @theoriginalkat @we-stan-fiction @bi-idiot-fanfics @annnagennnie @izzyjojo4 @megasimpleplan4ever @flowertoty @grabthemoneyandletsgo @itsametaphorbriansblog @vanillacaramelhoney @satvaldiva @disaster-magician @margotsfandoms @emily-b-m @bluechildrenlickmytoes @soft-slytherin-sweetie @oceanspray5 @im-here-for-fanfics @thebloodrobin @freestarlight @starcurrent @lilacs-lavender @moatsnow @give-the-boy-a-hug @narikyuwu @whenyouregrungeaff

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

Text

Daddy Issues (Spencer Reid Imagine)

*NOT MY GIF IF ANYONE KNOWS THE OWNER PLZ LET ME KNOW SO I CAN GIVE CREDIT*

Summary: While tending to Reid’s wound he obtained in a bar brawl, Reader finds out about his true feelings but not without the hurtful mentioning of Reader’s daddy issues.

Category: Angst Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of a violent bar fight, allusions to abandonment, self-destructive/sabotaging tendencies Word Count: 2.6K

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Naughty boy.”

You put your thumb on the dimple of his chin and your index finger under his chin to turn his head to the side gently. Reid let his head turn without resistance so you’d have a better view of the large laceration on his cheek. It was bloody beyond belief. “God, what’d you do?”

“What do you mean ‘What’d I do?’ He was the maniac that punched me.” Because of Reid’s little bar fight, you were all kicked out of the club and forced to come back to Spencer’s apartment to clean him up. While the rest of the team was in the living room, you were in the bathroom, kindly helping him. But he rejected your help when he wrapped his large hand around your wrist to pull it off his face so he could hop off the sink and push past you and out the door.

“Reid, get back here! You of all people know how much worse that cut will be if I don’t clean it soon.”

Apparently, reminding him that he might develop an infection was enough to convince him to drop the tough guy act and come back. He walked with his tail between his legs when he had to pass you in the doorway to sit back on the sink. You brought out the emergency kit, while Spencer looked over his shoulder to check out his wound in the mirror.

“Yes, you look cool. Now stop looking at yourself in the mirror and look at me so I can disinfect it.” Reid almost looked embarrassed when you said this, but you both knew it was true. He did look pretty badass.

After you pulled out all your supplies, Reid shyly spoke up.

“Do . . . do you really think I look cool?”

This coming from a man that had been shot twice, survived an anthrax attack, been in a handful of hostage situations, and got out of prison. He was so strong, but he didn’t even know it. How was he so oblivious to his own strength? You had to laugh.

“Why are you laughing at me? What’s so funny?” Reid sounded genuinely hurt. If his previous question didn’t radiate ‘sad puppy dog energy,’ that question sure did. It was as if he had reverted to his shy 24 year old self that still asked for validation.

“You do not need to get punched to prove how tough you are, okay? You’re plenty strong as it is.” To him, he thought you were just saying that, but you didn’t mean it. “Hey - look at me,” You demanded, making him meet your eyes. “You are so fucking cool. You hear me? I mean it, Reid. It takes one to know one after all.” He tried to fight a smile at your playful joke, but he failed. You always knew what to say to cheer him up, and tonight was no different.

Reid’s shoulders finally deflated as he settled down. You stood between his legs while you tended to the cut. While you were between Reid’s legs, you felt his finger playing with the belt loop of your jeans. It was such a small gesture you didn’t notice it at first, maybe even because he’d probably done small gestures like this a million times before. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, but he was fulfilling some subconscious need to be touching you, even if it was simply playing with your belt loop.

“You know, if you don’t tell me what happened, Morgan will. Do you really want that?” You threatened. Knowing Morgan - he'd be more than happy to recount the incident to you.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Alright. If you say so,” You stared directly into Spencer’s eyes. “MORGAN!” You yelled loud enough for him to hear you.

Spencer immediately clapped his hand over your mouth. “SHH! Fine, fine I’ll tell you.”

See? Worked like a charm.

When it came to Reid, you played dirty, and without fail, he’d give you what you wanted. Even if it took a while - he’d always give in.

Always.

“Remember that guy you were -” Reid gulped back the lump in his throat. “dancing with?”

After pausing to recall the night, a faint memory resurfaced. “You mean Owen? What about him?”

“After you danced, you went to the bathroom with Garcia, remember?” You nodded again. “He watched you the entire time. Emily tried to tell me it was nothing - but then I saw some guy come up to him and give him a handshake, with a twenty in his palm. So I gave Owen a piece of my mind.”

You tried to contain your laughter at his choice of words. “Guys make stupid bets like that all the time, Reid.” He only huffed as a response. “Hey,” You softly said, turning his head to look at you. “Thank you.” You finally said after a moment of staring at Reid. “Thank you for defending me when I wasn’t around.”

Reid pouted a little and shook his head. “Why do you go after guys like him?” His voice was so quiet that a whisper would’ve been loud in comparison.

“What?” You didn’t ask because you didn’t hear him, but because you didn’t understand him.

“Seriously, Y/N, it’s like you have this obsession with douchebags. Are they the guys you think you deserve?”

“What are you saying?” Your voice had a hint of anger behind it.

“I’ve tried to understand why you do what you do, but it just makes me more confused. I know you like guys that give you attention your father never did -”

“Whoa, back up. You did not just say that.” You were actually in disbelief.

“Am I wrong? Your father left in your formative years, so your love map -”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Hearing him say that as if you were some damaged unsub that he was trying to empathize with made your blood boil.

“Face it, Y/N. You’re always telling the girls that you want a nice guy, but then you dance on some asshole because you’d rather screw up a relationship with a jerk than mess up a relationship with someone you actually deserve. But if you opened your eyes for once, then you’d realize that if they actually were deserving of you - they wouldn’t abandon you like your father did.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Spencer received a second bruise that night. The sound of your palm hitting his other cheek echoed through the bathroom. It was enough to call the team’s attention to you two.

“Fuck you!” You shrieked, leaving the bathroom and pushing past the team that was doing they’re best to stop you.

You stormed out of Spencer’s flat and felt seven pairs of eyes following you as you ran down the stairwell.

. . .

“She couldn’t have gotten very far.” Hotch reasoned as he looked into the distance.

All of us were looking for Y/N, who wasn’t returning any of our calls. Everyone was worried about her, including me. Especially me. It was my fault after all, which the team had no problem reminding me.

“What were you thinking, man? Bringing up her dad like that? That was messed up and you know it.” Morgan added right after Y/N walked out.

“You could’ve been more gentle, Spence.” JJ sighed while ringing Y/N for the fifth time.

“Just give her some time.” Prentiss advised. “Yeah, I’m sure you two will be back to cracking Star Trek jokes in no time.” Garcia added.

I hadn’t even realized what I was saying when I was saying, nor had I thought through the repercussions of my words.

It was a known rule that we should never profile one another, but I couldn’t help it. It was all too easy to distinguish the source of Y/N’s poor taste in men. Although, I had to admit, who was I to judge her based on her father’s absence? What with my own father leaving me and my mom.

“Hey, Boy Genius,” Rossi called out to me. “You know her better than the rest of us. Where would she go?” Everyone’s eyes looked at me.

It was true. If anyone knew where she was - it would be me, but I was too flustered from the argument to think clearly.

“I don’t know! She goes home when she’s tired. Goes to the cafe when she’s working. Goes to work when she needs a distraction. Goes to my apartment when she’s sad . . .” My voice faded when I realized I probably screwed that up, too. I loved her late night visits. They were a reminder that she needed me. That I was valuable.

That’s when a memory from years ago resurfaced.

“I know where she is.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“You’re back already? I thought Hotch told you to take some time off.”

She wordlessly nodded. “Yeah, he did, but I’m fine. Plus, I’m already behind in paperwork.” Whenever she tried avoiding her problems, she’d bury herself in her work to distract her from her underlying pain. It killed me to see Y/N like this.

“Where’d you go last night?” I felt compelled to ask since as soon as the jet landed, Y/N practically disappeared. She didn’t even call me, which was weird.

“Nowhere, why?” She hadn’t met my eyes when she answered my question, instead keeping her gaze locked on the surroundings below her while she took her seat at her desk.

“I just . . . I could tell you were upset about the case.”

Cases weren’t easy to begin with, but Y/N was especially sensitive to yesterday’s. A young woman named Hanna was killing older white, affluent men as surrogates until she got to the real source of her rage - her father. He’d abandoned her in her early years which imprinted on her. She’d grow up to find out that her father left her and her mom for his wealthy mistress. They went on to raise two daughters. It was a shock that Hanna never tried to hurt her half sisters or their mother, but that only meant she was going to inflict that much more pain onto her dad.

When we finally found Hanna, she’d already killed her father, but it wasn’t too late to save Hanna.

Y/N was the one talking.

“Hanna, think about your mom. She loves you so much. Your father leaving devastated her, but you being there made all the difference. You gave her purpose. Don’t let your mom lose you, too. She needs you. Just put down the poison for your mom.” Y/N pleaded while lowering her gun into her holster.

But as Y/N came closer to her, Hanna reacted quickly by downing the poisonous concoction. Y/N ran right up to her and stuck her fingers down her throat to force her to throw up what she’d just drank, but it was no use. Soon Hanna fell to the floor with Y/N clutching her body as it violently convulsed.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Hotch yelled, trying to pull her off of Hanna, but she refused to give up.

I’d never seen her as disturbed as she was on the plane ride back. Her eyes never left the window. I wanted so badly to ask her how she was or offer my help, but I knew she’d rather be left alone. I didn’t blame her. Losing someone you’re trying to save is devastating, but it’s worse when you relate to the unsub. When you very well could have been them. Y/N saw herself as a reflection of Hanna because of how similar their childhoods were - how closely they paralleled. Not to mention, the likeness in age and appearance only served to haunt Y/N as she imagined herself being in Hanna’s shoes. Y/N would’ve wanted someone to save her, so she tried to save Hanna, but she couldn’t.

It took Y/N a moment after she told me that she went ‘nowhere’ to say something again. “I’m sorry, Reid. I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Then don’t. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.” It hurt me to see her like this and I was willing to do whatever it took to be there for her.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” She began. I promised her I wouldn’t. “I went to the park. Like with a playground. And . . . I just sat on the swings. For like a really long time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“I see her!” Garcia shouted, waving around her pointer finger. The entire team was about to jump out of the car when I stopped them.

“Could you guys just wait here? I think I should go alone.”

Amicably, they all agreed to wait inside the car, while I trudged to the swing set.

“We were worried about you.” I softly said, creeping up behind her.

She didn’t even flinch at my voice or turn around when I spoke. “I knew you’d find me anyway.” She replied. I recognized her voice. She’d been crying.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for what I said back there,” No response. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Another short period passed before she actually said something back. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“I’m just glad you did it on the other cheek.” I joked, trying to say something that would make her smile.

Come on, Y/N. Smile for me, please.

I slowly took a seat in the swing next to her, wrapping my hands around the chains. A familiar squeak noise rang out when I adjusted my full weight. That’s when I looked down at her feet and noticed they weren’t even touching the wood chips. How cute.

“Why do you care?” Her voice surprised me. “Why do you care if I go after the wrong guys?”

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. I don’t want to see you get hurt by someone that didn’t deserve you to begin with.” This was only half true.

“No, no it’s more than that. Like, why did you punch Owen? Morgan was there, too. But he didn’t start a fight with him and let’s be honest - between the two of you, he’s more likely to use his fists, but he didn’t - you did. Why?” I was rendered speechless. I just couldn’t come up with the right words to say what I wanted to say. “Say it, Spencer . . . please.”

It took me a moment. I couldn’t even meet her eyes at first, but slowly, I lifted my head to look at her through teary eyes. “Y/N, how can you say you want a nice guy when, after all these years, you’ve never looked twice at me?” Her eyes broke away from mine. “Why won’t you let me love you?”

“You know why. You said it yourself.”

‘You’d rather screw up a relationship with a jerk than mess up a relationship with someone you actually deserve.’

We didn’t say anything more for a painfully long time.

“I can’t be with you, Reid.” She finally spoke.

And even though a large part of me wanted to protest, object, and disagree, I stayed quiet. That was an answer I had to accept.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you.” I admitted, halfway laughing at myself for sounding so childish. If I looked up a millisecond later than I did, I probably wouldn’t have caught the small smile that formed on her face after hearing me profess this.

“You know, I’m not even sure I know what love is, honestly,” She lightheartedly confessed. “But if it’s anything like how I feel for you, then you should know that I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than I love myself, and I truly want you to be happy. I want to see you smile harder than you’ve ever smiled before. I want you to laugh harder than you’ve ever laughed before. I want you to love harder than you’ve ever loved before . . . but not with me.”

And though, she didn’t say it out loud - her eyes told me.

‘This is the most I can love you in this life. Let that be enough.’

And with my eyes, I told her:

‘It’s enough.’

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: So this might ruin the vibes of the story, but I felt like I just had to explain the ending.

Reader does want to be with Spencer! She wants nothing more than to be the reason he smiles, laughs, and loves, but as Spencer pointed out, she self-sabotages and has destructive behavior, and she knew that long before Spencer told her that, and for that very reason - she can’t be with Spencer.

She loves him more than she loves herself, so as much as she wants to make herself happy by being with him - she wants his happiness more. And he wouldn’t be happy with her long term because of how Reader is in relationships.

The line: This is the most I can love you in this life. Let that be enough. means ‘I’m loving you as much as I possibly can without hurting you. I know it’s not the kind of love we think we want, but please let it be enough.’

I hope that clears things up.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanficiton #criminal minds imagine #spencer x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #angst #spencer reid angst

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meyeselph · 3 years

Text

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

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beautifulweird0 · 4 years

Text

Forgiving Your Parents

My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.

Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created…

Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” .

Think about it...

Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!).

Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.

It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).

So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?

Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.

Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚).

But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.

Don’t get it confused, my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them.

My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything.

However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess.

My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart.

Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand.

He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness.

I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

#black #love #hate #generationalcurses #generations #hurt #healing #blackfamilies #blog #monetsway #alcoholism #mother #father

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karlnapity · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home, Theseus.

Chapter 2: Why Does One Man Need All That Power? [Fundy]

(warnings: tws for this chapter: alcoholism, bit of violence, nothing graphic (it’s a memory, & doesn’t take place in this chapter). this chapter also talks about relations between hybrids & humans being very negative.)

Fundy is cleaning up spilled liquor when he hears it behind him. It’s just drunken mumbling, and usually he’d tune it out because it’s more likely abuse than anything, but something tells him to pay attention.

“I wish I wasn’t a hybrid.” It’s spoken quietly, and Fundy turns to see Schlatt with his face in his arms on his desk. Something about it hurts, feels familiar.

The words hit home, and he can’t help but ask, “Why?”

“I wanted to be-- well, at least partially…” He stops for a moment while his drunken brain pieces together the words and ends with, “Hybrids never get to be in power. I wanted to prove them wrong.”

Fundy has heard the whispers. While he was working with Wilbur, people spoke poorly of him, same as when Schlatt was campaigning. Even more so, now, what with the recent mistakes. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Schlatt laughs, low and broken, sounding more like a sob than anything. He raises his head and it turns into a coughing fit, Fundy rushing to pat his back.

After it calms, he looks Fundy dead in the eyes and says, “I’ve only made it worse.”

Fundy sighs, looking away. He’s not sure what to say, because it’s not like he’s wrong. Relations have only managed to get worse since Schlatt’s come into power, serving to prove that hybrids are as vicious as they’ve always claimed. But Schlatt’s on a roll, it seems, and he continues.

“You know my right horn’s fake?”

He didn’t.

“What happened?” He asks quietly.

“Held me down and broke it, thought they could cure me of being a hybrid or some shit.” Schlatt huffs.

As Fundy leans closer, if he squints he can see the line where the real ends and the fake begins.

“Did it hurt?” He breathes. Schlatt hacks out a laugh.

“Like nothing else. Thought I was going to die.” He doesn’t elaborate more than that. Fundy watches his hands open and close a few times on his desk, and knows he wants to reach for a drink. He starts talking, whatever pops into his head to distract him.

“People think I’m shifty, since I’m a fox and all. They don’t think I’m trustworthy.” It’s not the right thing to say. Schlatt smiles, though it’s more of a sneer.

“I’m sorry I think you’re going to betray me, then.”

Fundy blinks. He didn’t expect it outright. He knew it was likely Schlatt knew something, but all the same it’s a shock. He opens his mouth to defend himself, say anything, but Schlatt cuts him off, waving a hand.

“Don’t bother. I don’t fucking give a shit, it’s not like any of it matters now.”

Something about that pulls at Fundy, makes him more upset than it should.

“You still have time to turn around public opinion, you know. Three of the members of the cabinet being hybrids? That means a lot to people. Irregardless of whether you’re doing a good job, right? So much of the SMP is hybrids, and it means something to them that you’re here.”

Schlatt’s staring at nothing, but for once he seems to be lost in memories and not just out of it. He smiles.

“The SMP’s so much better than other worlds I’ve been to. It’s probably because of you, actually.”

“Huh?” He can’t quite fathom that.

“Something Wilbur got right, I think. His son is a fox, so he made sure you were protected.”

He nods, slowly. “Maybe. I think I did some of it myself.”

Schlatt laughs. “Wouldn’t surprise me. You’re persistent when you want to be.”

That night, when Fundy makes his way back to his room, a Spy’s Diary weighs heavier in his pocket than ever. He doesn’t write down their conversation.

“So what’s with the daddy issues?” Schlatt asks one day while they’re filing papers. Fundy isn’t sure what he thought being part of a presidential administration would be like, but he hadn’t thought it would involve quite this much paperwork. When Wilbur had been in charge, it had been more about surviving than anything else, at least.

“Wh-what?” He stutters, brain malfunctioning for a few solid seconds. Schlatt barks a laugh.

“Well, not many people would be this quick to betray their own blood, is all,” Schlatt says, waving a hand. “I did kind of exile the guy.”

Fundy sits back, leaning back in his chair. “He just wasn’t a very good dad, I guess. I wanted to prove a point.”

Schlatt squints at him for a second. “Fair enough.”

“Why did you decide to exile him?” Fundy knows he’s prying, and he also knows that this is a stupid, stupid decision, both as part of the cabinet and as a spy, but he can’t help but ask.

Schlatt shrugs. “What’s he told you?”

“Uh… nothing? I didn’t even know you existed until you showed up.”

Schlatt huffs, looking strangely incensed. “We have a history, is all. Didn’t end well.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“It doesn’t much matter. It’d been years since we’d last seen each other, anyways.” He’s completely abandoned his paperwork. “But I wanted payback. And besides, when Wilbur gets that look in his eyes… if I let him stay, it wasn’t going to end well.”

Fundy hums. “Can’t argue with that.”

He wonders if this is any better. He hopes.

Fundy doesn’t see Wilbur again until the festival. He finds he doesn’t especially want to.

When Fundy cries, so shocked at the man he doesn’t recognize, Schlatt pats his shoulder and mumbles about how it’s going to be ok. Fundy wants to hug him, but doesn’t.

Fundy hates the smell of smoke. Wilbur smoked a lot, and he remembers when he was still young and he could tell when his father was having a bad day from how the smell clung to him, and he remembers hating it even then.

Schlatt has noticed. He’s sure his nose is twitching, tail flicking, and Schlatt sighs, puts out his cigarette. Sighs again.

“Well? Spit it out, please,” he says, clasping his hands. Fundy found him out on the balcony, staring out at the sky and ignoring all his work, but he finds he can’t quite blame him.

“I don’t have anything,” he says, coming to stand beside him. “Is it not enough to want to talk to my president?”

Schlatt smiles ruefully, but he doesn’t say anything more, just focuses his gaze back on the sky. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

Fundy looks to him in equal parts confusion and hesitance. He analyzes Schlatt’s expression, but after a few long moments he says, “It’s been better.”

Schlatt huffs a laugh. He seems unsure of what to say, but after what feels like an eternity he continues with, “It’s impressive, you know that?”

Fundy doesn’t say anything, not quite sure what he means.

“It’s fucking cold to leave your dad on his own, but I get it. In the beginning, you wanted to be the big hero, the spy, huh? But Tubbo had already done that job for you, and at that point, it was too late, right? And now you’re not sure what to do, but you’re still going. It’s fucking impressive, man.” He laughs, coughs a bit.

Fundy feels like his brain is short-circuiting. Schlatt gets it. He feels tears welling in his eyes but pushes them back down.

“It has a lot to do with you, you know that?” He asks. Schlatt looks at him, surprised. “When you won the election, everyone was upset, but… I got to know you, and maybe you weren’t that bad.”

He never thought he’d be talking openly with the man he’d been planning to betray, but all the same it’s comforting. It’s closure.

“I just wanted to mean something. And I think this is my way of doing it.”

He pulls out the diary from his inventory, and Schlatt raises his eyebrows. The matches he used to for his cigarette sit there, and Fundy lights it, takes it to the diary. And it’s gone.

Maybe smoke isn’t that bad.

#personal #dream smp #dsmp #lmanburg #lmanberg #l'manberg #l'manburg #manburg #manberg #schlatt #jschlatt #fundy #mcyt #wilbur soot

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olliethealright · 3 years

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Three Steps From Home - Update #3

Hey everyone, I guess I’m back again. Today, I’m gonna update on the next two chapters of my current WIP. This will be about chapters nine and ten, AKA 3558 words of an honestly stupid amount of food description, Jude being emo, and Aaron deciding if he’s amused or horrified. This is a long one, so the update is under the break.

TRIGGER WARNING: homophobia, emotional abuse, religious content, mentions of conversion therapy

ALSO: these are all my personal words, characters and ideas, please do not use without my consent.

chapter nine - how you met my mother - 1944 words

theme song - let you down - NF

Okay so this chapter is kind of emo and every much a mess, sorry in advance. I’m going to rework this chapter because Aaron is just kind of there and he doesn’t pull his weight (or literally any weight oops), so keep that in mind.

Summary: Aaron and Jude meet Jude’s mom for brunch, and this chapter is basically just the drama that goes down at the brunch and then the fallout that happens afterwards.

excerpts:

Jude VS his mother feat. Aaron just trying to be nice

Maybe once a month, my mother remembered she was a competent cook and there’s more food to be eaten than microwave dinners and cheap takeout. She had recalled her cooking skills that day, and apart from her eggs, which were notoriously near-poisonous, the meal was almost enjoyable.

My mother sat on one side of the table and we occupied the other, she served beans, fried potatoes, corn tortillas, and those damn eggs. We held a casual enough conversation, but your knee was already pressed into mine in case things went off the deep end. You wanted to feel my muscles contract, you wanted to drag me out before I said anything I would regret.

“Why him?” my mother finally asked in Spanish when she had enough of our bullshit and pleasantries.

“Because,” I answered in English. “He’s a good guy, he looks out for me. We’re a good match, Ma, he makes me happy.”

You beamed at me as I avoided my mother’s gaze, and for a moment, I thought that would be the end of it. Across the table, she sighed as if I was the nurse who told her that her only son died. To be fair, I may have done the equivalent; in her universe, you weren’t supposed to make me happy, and nothing would have shattered that world, not even my smile when I looked at you.

and... Jude’s mom bringing up his MAJOR daddy issues

“Get rid of him, before he abandons you like your father did,” she hissed in Spanish the second you were gone. “No one can love you when you are like this, especially not that boy, and especially not me.”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood and tried not to look like a kicked animal. “You don’t know Aaron, Ma,” I said carefully, finally answering her Spanish with my own. “He’s not Dad. He likes me as I am, just like you should.”

Her eyes shone, and I knew I had set her up to say exactly what she wanted, I had given her the perfect setup, the gasoline for her fire. “He’s worse than your father. He will always make you feel like an outsider, you will never know how he really feels. But, if you go now, the pastor will still take you. He agreed that you’d be a tough case, that you’re almost beyond help, but he can help you, Jude.”

The way she said it, the proposal almost sounded fair. Thankfully, you cut her off with desert balanced on your arms in a way that only a barista would know how. You set cups of caramel custard in front of us and I dug into mine before I said anything I shouldn’t have.

I’m not going to share anymore because I don’t really like this chapter, but essentially what happens is Jude’s mom is unpleasant, Jude and Aaron leave and Aaron almost talks about his mother, but doesn't (and no one is surprised).

chapter ten - x (I cannot figure out what to call this one haha) - 1606 words

theme song - TALK ME DOWN - troye sivan

I actually don’t mind how this chapter turned out. I love the dynamic between Jude and Aaron in this one, it makes me strangely happy even though it’s not necessarily a happy chapter.

Summary: This one takes place a few months after the last one, Jude and his mother haven’t really talked and he’s finally starting to feel more free of her. Aaron surprises Jude on his birthday with breakfast and fake Amtrak tickets, and the two decide to move to Seattle together. There is a small flashback of the boys after the events of chapter ten where Aaron gets upset.

excerpts:

Aaron and Jude joking about the brunch with Jude’s mom (featuring my favorite piece of Aaron dialogue because he would totally become Gordon Ramsey if he thought he could pull it off)

Your breakfast was excellent. The pancakes were fluffy and sweat, they carried the telltale taste of Krusteaz mix, the kind my dad had made on special occasions. The sausages were as good as frozen supermarket sausages could get, and your eggs were miles better than my Mother’s, which were essentially my only point of reference.

“These might be the best eggs I’ve ever had,” I said.

“That’s only because your Mother’s eggs are, no offense, horrible. I think I saw her put cinnamon in those things. Cinnamon! That’s like the first rule they teach you at cooking school: don’t put cinnamon in your fucking eggs.”

A week later, it was decided. You wanted a place we could discover together. I wanted to get away from churchgoers who talked about Jesus like a cult leader and called me a sinner when they passed on the street, just loud enough for me to hear. I wanted to hold your hand without looking over my shoulder.

I insisted on buying the cardboard moving boxes, but you stole my computer when you saw the Amtrak website open in my browser, refusing to let me buy my own birthday present. We decided on Seattle because you wanted to smell the sea breeze wafting from the Pacific, the only ocean you’d never seen. Seattle because I had never seen an ocean or a big city, because I wanted to go to the top of the Space Needle every weekend, because it was far away from nowhere, Montana.

Our apartment was packed within a week, we didn’t have many possessions to speak of; most of yours were books that stacked neatly into boxes, and I barely had a trash bag’s worth of clothing to call my own. We surfed the internet until we could find an apartment we didn’t hate on a street that wasn’t claustrophobic, but was still close enough to the bustle of the city that we would still be able to hear the noise and taste the gasoline on every street corner. In another week, we would be gone, in a month, we would be forgotten altogether.

Okay, well there it is! At this point, updates will probably all be 1-2 chapters each because I’ve almost caught up with myself. I hope you enjoyed this update, send me an ask if you have questions! Thanks for reading if you’ve gotten this far, and remember: don’t put cinnamon on your fucking eggs.

-ollie

#book #threestepsfromhome #novel #author #writing #writer #writblr #story #sad #fun

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blackrosesfanfic · 3 years

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Chapter 234

Amber

Chris kisses my neck. "Trey a fucking dumbass."

"For doing what he should have been doing?" I snap.

"How is it going to help their relationship? I don't see nothing positive from this."

April comes up. "Both of you should be ashamed of yourself."

"Who? I don't have nothing to do with fucking Trey. He his own man."

"What are you talking about?" April snaps. "I find out from Joyce who not even here that you are expecting? Not even worth a bitch just to let you know there's something you don't know even though you in the next room."

"Ma?" Chris says standing up. "I told you in the kitchen about the drone."

She pushes him away. "You told me about a message in a bottle and how you have more confidence in your ability to be in a relationship."

"No, Ma. I said Amber confused me by not putting the message... okay maybe I changed the subject."

"Right... after you got a damn text message then started talking about your relationship."

Chris tries to hug her again. "You can be the first to see the ultrasound."

She snatches it from him as he takes it out of his phone case. He chuckles and comes back to the chair. I guess she was taking the picture. She comes back hugging me.

"We will talk later." April says in my ear then kiss my cheek. "Congratulations. Yes Chris I agree with you now."

"I thought you did before." He snaps.

She chuckles. "I lied."

He sucks his teeth. She walks away. This man is only upset for 2 seconds after she leaves. He turns around into my face.

"I feel obligated to get Trey and Cammie where we are in our relationship. I wish he didn't turn that phone in. We could have burned it together. He could have just given it to April. She is credible."

"Chris won't you go find them and see how they are handling it. Just stop talking about it."

He exhales. "Their shit is... I'm leaving out in the morning to do a show."

I grab his face. "I know."

"I want to marry you before the baby comes."

"MiMi and Devin's wedding, Trey and Cammie's anniversary, holidays then baby. No time."

He sucks his teeth. "If you really feeling me then we can go to Vegas tonight. Everybody here."

"If you really feeling me then I only plan on getting married once and I be dammed if it's at a tacky ass shotgun ass pussy rankin ass Elvis motel. Fuck out of here. You are Chris Brown. You fucking spending money on me the first time. So shut up. If I'm feeling you… Gotdamn, it fucking don't matter now cause I'm having your child. You fucking stuck, whether it be tomorrow or next year."

"Damn." Alex says leaning away from us. "Fuck all that shit."

Chris chuckles but doesn't say anything. I'm not telling him again why the wedding can't be sooner than planned. Now he has to wait 8 months. Still puts him at next year. I'm not rushing this anymore than what it already is. Something gonna be in my control. I push him off of me.

"You have nothing to say?"

"That's the surest I ever heard you talk about our future. I don't have shit to say."

Alex laughs. "Really? I always wondered if it's the power of pussy."

Chris looks at her. "What's your fucking problem? Why you always putting negative shit in the air? Nobody even talking to you."

"Oh, do you own me? Shit not free, huh?"

"Her voice fucking irritates me." Chris hisses.

"She does that on purpose." Jamaal says. "Irritate people to avoid connecting with people. It's what she does to her parents."

Chris nods. "And you listen to that shit?"

"You respond to it?" Jamaal shrugs.

"Okay."

"Fuck you, Jamaal." Alex says standing up and walking away.

I sigh and get up off of the chair. I don't feel like fucking fixing other people's shit. I've got my own fucking venting I want to do. Jamaal touches my arm stopping me from going after Alex.

He smiles softly. "I got it."

"Good cause she needs a man to fix her daddy issues." Chris says.

"I'm going to find something to eat that's not on a stick."

Chris sits up straight. "We can order something. I don't think we have anything."

"I'll find my own food, Chris." I say with a smile.

"Okay."

Cammie

"Tremaine?"

"In here baby." Ma says. My mother.

I shake my head. What? I walk into her bedroom. Lane and Trey are stretched out on the floor sleep. Lane had a damn pacifier in his mouth. I take it out. He opens his eyes frowning at me. I stand up straight looking at him. He smiles at me then looks towards the bed at Mama.

"What's this game y'all playing?" I snap.

"He wants to be my baby instead of my big boy. He likes to keep games going. He might be good at acting. You should try it. Since he will be famous anyway."

I shrug a bit and get on the bed where Caden is. He opens his eyes then makes a pouting face. My baby is so damn fake. I leave him there then look towards my mother. She is standing in the closet stacking up folded clothes.

"I never thought about how much my family needed you in their lives." I say after Lane goes up to her and lays his head on her hip. "Why is Trey in here on the floor?"

"They were fighting over the pacifier." Ma giggles. "Ready to be grandma big boy?"

Lane hugs her thigh. "Yes."

She kneels down picking him up. "Oh boy, so heavy."

"What did you do with Shy's bad butt?"

"Her grandmother has her in Columbia until I get back." She rolls her eyes. "I have never been good at discipline. I should have spanked that girl's mama. Thank God for your sweet grandmother and her rules. I think you have a beautiful family."

Caden kicks his feet towards me trying his best to reach me. I stand up then notice that Ma already had stuff to change his diaper on the bed. I climb into the bed to get closer to him.

"I have been fighting like the plague trying to get this family."

"And get ready to fight more. Baby, there is nothing easy about a marriage to a public figure. You have to remind them that they normal. Your husband don't know his mouth from his hand."

I shrug. "I guess."

"I didn't care for him before I came this week. I should have been talked with him." She says lying Lane on the bed. He was sleep again. "He cares so much about you."

"It's easy to forget that."

She sits on the bed. "He thinks I made you pick Chemistry. Cammie you know I wanted nothing more than for you to get a degree that would set you apart from most women. You were already good at dancing. You didn't need school for that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then why do you have these people thinking I never supported you?"

I shrug. I continue changing Caden's diaper.

"You know I was at every ballot recital. Ready with my needle and thread because your chubby butt was gonna bust out of that tutu."

"Yeah."

"You know I'm a classical music lover. All that sexy booty shaking hip hop."

"Cause you don't know how to shake nothing."

She chuckles a bit. "Your daddy loved calling me white girl. I can't help I wasn't exposed to it until college. Then I went too far too fast."

"In college?" I ask looking at her.

"You are grown now so I can tell you. My friend Janette had me wide open. One night I woke up in the school mascot uniform. You know it was the 70s early 80s. Drugs, sex, and no care. I feel like if I hadn't met your father I wouldn't have known who Chubby's father was. My judgement sober had started to shift to who cares. I had to change gears. Go back to how I was raised."

I just look at her. She chuckles a bit taking Lane's pants off.

"Sometimes things take you away from who you are." She says like she lost in thought. The conversation dies. Or I thought it did. She looks at me. "You liked your stepfather. He never tried to touch you or anything did he?"

I make my eyes big. "No."

She blows. "I didn't think so. He really does love you and Chubby. I should call him Rollie. Anyway, he loves you and Rollie. Only if it's because he loves me. He does like to be included. He loved fighting with you, probably misses it. At least you two had some interaction."

I start crying. She doesn't notice at first until I try to hold it in. It doesn't work at all. I never thought about whether or not me being distant cause them to be sad. I didn't think they cared. I thought they would be happy not to have to worry about me. I don't know where any of those ideas came from.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, Baby. I don't know." She says putting her hand on my leg. "I don't know anything unless you tell me. I'm not supermom. I'm a bit self absorbed and... spoiled as Kenny would say. Again I was raised that way. It's hard to correct things as an adult. Most times I just don't want to. You know?"

I jump. Someone had touched my back. It was Trey. He sits down on the bed then reach around me and put Caden's diaper on. I had abandoned everything with my tears. I don't remember the last time my mother and I talked. I don't even know who this is talking to me. She never talked so much shit about herself. Took blame for being caught up in her own shit.

"I feel you on that. Being a responsible adult is stressful." Trey says. "Jayla?"

I just look at him. He nods his head. I don't know what he talking about. Caden starts crying like Trey had done something to him. Trey gently calms him down. Trey was actually the distraction in this conversation. Now I don't feel like crying.

"Tremaine?" I blow. "I shouldn't have let everyone think my mother was this witch that ruined my dream."

"Yeah." Trey says like he suddenly remembered. "I found that out myself."

Ma chuckles a bit. "All of those times we forced her out of the car was not to punish her."

"What was it for Mom?" I snap.

"I never... you wouldn't tell me." She says. "Lonnie finally just said let her transfer closer. If it means she will get out of this car when we drop her off. You were just fine catching the bus then it slowly got harder."

Trey looks at me. "When did you try to find out? On the way to drop her off? With Lonnie?"

"Most times I was at the church and she was with her grandmother until it was time to take her back. Really the only time we had."

"That's where the story came from. You didn't have time. You were asking about something personal in public."

"In public? It was..." she covers her mouth. "Something happened at school? I asked you when we were alone? I tried to find out... Was it when you were in the hospital? You told me you passed out from drinking. How was I supposed to put it together that something more serious happened? Gotdamn it Jayla. You know if I knew anything happened to you I would have turned that college upside down." She stands up then she puts her hands on her hips. "Jayla, what happened?"

I shake my head.

Trey sighs. "Jayla no. You can't shut down again, Baby."

"I didn't want it to be a big deal."

"You didn't want it at all, Jayla." Trey says putting Caden in my arms. "You would want to know if someone hurt your child. She wants to know if someone hurt her child."

Ma spins around the room. "I knew it was that damn Rashad. So arrogant and ready for the world to kiss his ass."

"It wasn't him." I say rocking Caden. "His friends drugged me."

"Nothing they haven't done in the past. You weren't the first girl he ever had around his friends. What were their names?"

I furrow my eyebrows at her. "No. Why? It doesn't matter, Ma."

She blows. "I feel like I need to do something."

"Well run down the beach screaming." I say wiping my face. "It's been years. I don't want my name in nothing."

"I will walk fast very angrily down the beach. Punch a few sand dunes." She says grabbing her phone and walking out.

I sit there stuck. What just happened? I feel numb. I don't feel like nothing. It seems as though that went completely wrong. Nothing like I imagined. Why does she feel like she need to do something? Would that something not be to just hug me? Or try to... I don't know but it's awkward now. Sitting here. Frozen. Going down memory lane. Alone. Again.

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ughseoks-main · 6 years

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you’re your father’s daughter

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

summary: where peter, your boyfriend of many months, finds out that you’re tony stark’s daughter

requested by anonymous: Can you do a peter parker x reader imagine where they're dating and her dad is tony stark but nobody knows because she uses her mom's last name and lives with her mom and basically doesn't like her dad and then could you make it be like how peter would react to finding out about that

word count: 4.4k

warnings: angst, swearing, daddy issues

a/n: wow this is a lot longer than pretty much all of my oneshots whaaat?? it’s like,, halfway edited kinda?? so like dont judge it too hard lmao. but anyways i hope y’all enjoy & let me know what you think!

You didn’t like Tony Stark.

Sure, he was your dad, but after what he’d done to you and your mom, your dislike for him had grown immensely. You could barely remember living with him; you were so young that only bits and pieces of your life then stuck with you. Most of your memories with him seemed to be happy, yet you couldn’t stand to even hear his name.

Although it was so long ago, you could still remember the day you and your mother left. She was crying, but being so young, you had no idea why. You were too young to understand why you’d moved, but a few years later your mom explained to you that she and Tony both decided it was best for both you and your mom to move away. She never went into detail why, saying it wasn’t her place to tell you, which led you to assume that Tony wanted to live out his playboy lifestyle with nothing holding him back, even if that meant abandoning his daughter in the process. The last time you spoke to your father was the day you moved out all those years ago.

Even after all of that, you still had Tony’s number saved in your phone. It was silly, but you couldn’t make yourself delete it. Somehow, having his number saved kept you connected to that little bit of happiness he gave you in your younger years. The only time he called was on your birthday each year, and you always let it go to voicemail. He’d leave roughly the same message each time, usually saying ‘happy birthday’ and that he loved you.

He never said he missed you.

You’d listen to those voicemails over and over again, each and every replay digging into your soul. Deep, deep down, you knew you missed him, but you’d built up so many walls that the sadness manifested as resentment in your heart. Even hearing his name could make your blood boil; a defense against the cold, prying fingers of loneliness and longing.

Shaking your head to bring yourself back to reality, you realize that you’re sitting in the lunchroom next to your boyfriend, Peter Parker.

“He just treats me like… like his own kid, you know?” he says adoringly, taking another bite of his sandwich, “He always listens to my ideas and encourages creativity and thinking outside the box. Whenever I suggest something, he takes it into consideration instead of waving me off for being just a kid.”

If it were anybody else, you’d try to change the subject or politely leave to do something else. However, neither of those options worked with Peter. Even if you changed the subject, he’d somehow find his way back to Tony; plus, he knew you way too well to tell if you were trying to leave because you were upset. So, you just sucked it up and tried your best to filter out all of the Tony Stark talk. Now, you were sure that if you ever told him about your situation, he’d immediately stop. After all, he would never do anything to hurt you.

However, telling Peter wasn’t a risk you could take.

If anybody ever found out that you were Tony Stark’s daughter, your life would never be the same. People would only befriend you so they could use you, and you would always be compared to him. You wanted to be your own person and make a name for yourself without the help of your famous dad. Critics would most definitely blame your success on your bloodline rather than your brilliant, science-oriented mind, which wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.

“So, I was talking to Mr. Stark,” Peter’s eyes grow wide with excitement, “and he said I could invite my friend to come to the lab with me sometime! I figured with how much you love science and how brilliant you are, you’d have a blast with us. It’s like a scientific playground up there!”

“Uh,” you rub the back of your neck awkwardly, “As much fun as that sounds, I think I’m busy. Maybe another time?”

“But I didn’t even give you a date-”

“It’s just… not a good time right now, Peter,” you emphasize, giving him a look that told him you weren’t budging.

“Oh, that’s okay..” he looked disappointed, which crushed your heart, “It’s too bad. I mean, I honestly think you guys would get along great. You’re actually super similar! Sometimes I think you’re, like, his long lost daughter or something. You know, just the other day he-”

“Peter, can you just- can you just stop?” you snap, unable to listen to any more. Peter didn’t know any better, but you just couldn’t listen to him talk about Tony for a second longer.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” he asked, concern evident in his voice, “You know, you can tell me anything.”

“Just- just forget it, okay? I’m fine, I promise,” you lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek before standing up to go to class, leaving him sitting confused and alone at the lunch table.

Later that afternoon during your free period, you were sketching plans for a new invention when your phone began to buzz on your desk. After throwing an apologetic look the teacher’s way, you slipped out of the classroom before holding the phone up to your ear.

“Peter, I was in class, you know,” you say only half-seriously, smiling a bit.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, “Um, I was just calling to make sure you’re, uh, okay.”

Your smile falls, the events from earlier that day flashing across your mind. In all honesty, you had been preparing for this phone call, so you knew pretty much exactly what you were going to say. It was simple: you weren’t feeling well and you just needed some sleep, that’s all. Before you could speak, however, a familiar voice speaks in the background of the call.

“Who ya talkin’ to, kid?” the muffled voice of Tony Stark poured into your ear, causing you to freeze in place and blurt a quick ‘i’m fine’ to Peter before hitting the end call button as quickly as possible. You take a moment to control your breathing, your heart beating a million times a minute.

________

Frowning at his phone, Peter pulls it away from his ear and turns to Tony.

“What, girl problems?” he smirks at Peter, giving him a soft punch to the shoulder.

“Yeah, uh,” Peter stutters, “It’s- it’s nothing, let’s keep working.”

Peter doesn’t see Tony’s eyes widen when he sees your name glowing on the top of the screen as he sends you a text telling you to meet him at the coffee shop later. A small picture of you making a kissy face accompanies a million yellow hearts and heart eyes decorating your contact name.

Tony clears his throat as Peter turns off his phone, shifting his focus back to the task at hand.

________

The door to the coffee shop makes a light ding as you open it, the fairy lights strung along the windows illuminating your face in the darkness of the night. You scan the room to see Peter sitting nervously at the table in the corner by the window, the table you two always sit at.

“What’s up Pete?” you say nonchalantly as you take a seat, even though you already know what he’s about to ask.

“Is- is there something you’re not telling me?” he asks, cutting straight to the chase as he looks up at you with his wide, brown puppy eyes.

“I wish I could tell you that everything is fine, Peter,” you sigh, “But I just can’t. And as much as I want to tell you why, I can’t.”

“Why?” his voice breaks, your heart breaking along with it, “Why can’t you tell me?”

“I just can’t,” you whisper, voice raw with emotion.

��If we’re in this together, we have to-” he paused and took a deep breath, lowering his voice a bit since people were beginning to stare, “We have to trust each other, Y/N.”

You remain quiet and fiddle with your hands, unable to force the words out of your mouth. After holding them inside for so long, you didn’t know how to let them out. A squeak from Peter’s chair causes you to look up at him, taking in his cold face as he stands up and looks down at you with disappointment.

“Peter, wait-”

“Talk to me when you’re willing to tell me the truth,” he states before walking out the door, leaving you sitting alone at the table.

________

You didn’t know how long you sat at that table before you went home, tears streaming down your face. When you walked into the house, your mom was already in bed, so you quietly snuck into your room and clambered underneath the covers. You didn’t care if you were still fully dressed; you needed to sleep and forget about the events of today for just a little while.

No matter how long you sat there with your eyes closed, sleep never took you away. You were stuck in bed, replaying your conversation with Peter over and over again in your head until you were sick of thinking about it.

“Ughhh,” you groan, sitting up and rubbing your face before murmuring to yourself, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Sliding out of bed and into your vans, you tiptoe through your house and close the door gently behind you, not wanting your mom to know you left the house so late. With a quick glance at your phone, you note that it’s nearing 1 am, so Peter would most likely be asleep. Whatever, you think to yourself, pulling your hoodie sleeves down over your hands to protect against the cold as you make your way towards his apartment.

When Peter open the door, it’s clear that he’s been crying, which shatters your heart.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you try joking, but he doesn’t seem to return the sentiment.

Cracking jokes at a tense time? The Stark in you was really starting to shine through.

“Why are you here?” he replies, his nose and cheeks tinted pink from the amount of tears he had shed, while yours were tinted from the cold.

“Peter, you have to understand that I- I want to tell you everything, but i just can’t,” you try to explain, the desperation clear in your voice.

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N,” he exasperates, opening and closing his mouth a few times before letting out all the words he’d been trying to find, “I don’t know what’s up with you, but you’ve been so different lately. You’ve pulled away from me ever since I told you about Spiderman and the Stark Internship. I invite you to things, really cool things like working in a lab with Tony Stark, because I care about you and I want to share these experiences with you and you just- just blow me off like it’s nothing to you! I don’t know why you never want to talk about the internship with me or go on visits-”

“BECAUSE HE’S MY DAD, PETER!” you finally yell, not caring if you wake up the neighbors.

“W-what?” he stutters, eyes going wide.

“Because he’s my dad and he left me and I cannot stand to think about him, let alone talk about him, okay? There. That’s the big secret, and now you know it. Are you happy now?” you snap, finally putting your truth out into the open.

Instead of answering, Peter stands there shocked, hurt filling his gaze.

“Pete?” your voice is quiet now, worried you’ll scare him off because of the look in his eyes.

“I think you should go,” his voice is soft, cracking with emotion at the end of his sentence.

“Wait-”

“Go.” his gaze hardens before he shuts the door in your face, sliding down the other side of it as another round of tears spill down his cheeks. He felt so betrayed; how could you ever keep a secret like that from him?

You stand there for a moment, numbness spreading across your whole body. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, but it was definitely the one you feared the most. You didn’t even register that you were walking down the hallway, lost in thought about how Peter would most likely break up with you.

You’re going to lose the person you loved the most.

And you can’t let that happen.

Suddenly, it was like everything was clear again. Before you can take another step down the stairs, you spin on your heel and run back up to Peter’s door, knocking.

And knocking.

“Peter, please let me in,” you plead, leaning your forehead against the door as you continue to knock, wishing that he would just open the door.

With a sigh, you lean back and slide your phone open, going to his contact in your messages. One tap later, you take note of the small dot that reperesents Peter moving quickly across the map.

“Fuck,” you breathe, sliding your phone into your back pocket and running back down the hallway. There was only one place he could be going; the place you never thought you’d return to.

Much to your surprise, you only hesitate for a moment once you’re outside of the tower before running inside and demanding to be let up.

“I need to get upstairs!” you urge, giving the very tired receptionist an exasperated look.

“The tower is closed, Ma’am,” she repeats, annoyance clear in her voice, “You can come back tomorrow during our work hours.”

“Please…” you take a glance at her name tag, “Katy. Please, I need to get up there and talk to Tony.” “If you don’t leave the premises, I’ll have to call security,” she warns, reaching for her phone.

“No!” you reach out towards her and she raises an eyebrow at you, “I mean, please, I’m begging you. Just call Tony and tell him that Y/N Y/L/N is here to see him and he’ll let me up.”

“I’m sure that he’s asleep-”

“I can guarantee that he isn’t,” you pressure, leaning over the counter and giving her the biggest puppy eyes you could muster.

After a few more moments of consideration, she caves, sighing a quick “Alright” before lifting up the phone and speaking quietly into it for a few minutes.

“You’re clear to go,” she gestures to the door, and you catch a small bit of surprise in her voice as she did so. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting Tony to let the random teenage girl from the lobby upstairs.

You walk towards the elevator, heart in your throat as you press the button for the floor that the receptionist told you Tony was on. Each floor you pass makes a small beep, each one elevating your heart rate slightly until the final ding of the elevator rings out.

When the doors open, he’s there.

Tony Stark, the man you hadn’t seen in years.

You stand awkwardly for a moment, frozen in place until finally he coughs and gestures toward the living room, blurting out a quick “Pete’s in there.” Giving him a simple nod, you walk past him and began walking down the hallway, nervous to see Peter because of what he might say to you.

As your nerves begin to build, your pace begins to quicken as well, growing from a casual walk into a full on sprint. After what seems like an eternity of running, you finally slide to a stop in the doorway, trying to catch your breath as Peter’s head jerks up to look at you with red, puffy eyes.

“Peter, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he falters, looking you straight in the eyes. You can’t hold eye contact with him, so you stare at the ground as he continues, “It was so, so hard to tell you about Spiderman. Did you know that? Did you know how hard that was for me? I trusted you with that huge secret, Y/N, yet you couldn’t tell me something as- as little as this.”

At those words, you jerk your head back up, raising your eyebrows at him. You can tell that he regrets the words as soon as they come out, but you can’t just let it go.

“Woah, woah, woah, Peter,” you feel the anger begin to rise within you, “this is not ‘little.’ Just because it isn’t some sort of secret identity superhero reveal doesn’t mean it isn’t a huge part of me. It’s almost impossible for me to talk about, so for you to say that it’s ‘little’ really fucking hurts.”

“That’s not-” he takes a deep breath, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Peter?” you cross your arms, waiting for an explanation.

“Mr. Stark is one of the most important people in my life. He’s helped me with so much and I don’t know where I would be right now without him. Probably dead, to be honest. At this point, he’s my father figure, you know? And I just can’t believe you kept something like this from me for so long. It hurts that you didn’t trust me with it, especially when I’ve trusted you with so much in my life.”

“You think that this didn’t hurt me too, Peter?” you retort, “You think that keeping this secret from not just everybody, but you, the person I love most, was easy? It was so so fucking hard to hear you talk about him every day, Peter. It was so hard to pretend like I was busy every time you invited me to things or like every time you spoke his name it wasn’t like a knife was being shoved into my chest, because he’s giving you the love he could never find in himself to give me. I understand that he’s your father figure, Peter, but he isn’t mine. I’m so happy that he loves you, but it’s really hard to hear about that when I know that he never loved me.”

You wipe away tears that you didn’t know you’d been shedding until that moment before whispering, “I never meant to hurt you, Peter.”

He was looking down at his shoes, so you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. All you wanted was for him to say something, anything, in reply. At this point, you were ready for anything he threw at you.

“He talks about you, you know.”

Okay, maybe you weren’t ready for that.

“W-what? I don’t- How do you know that?”

“I-I never knew it was you until now. I always assumed that he just kept his kid a secret from the world for their own sake, which I guess is actually somewhat true,” he swallowed harshly, “I guess your mom keeps him updated on your life because he always talks about how smart and accomplished his kid is. He’d tell me about how they won the science fair when they were only in third grade and were competing against middle schoolers, or how they’d scored a major internship that only five kids were awarded nationwide. I must be pretty thick since I never put the pieces together until now, but Y/N, he does love you. He loves you and he’s so, so proud of you, even if you don’t know it.”

“Then why- why didn’t he ever tell me?” you ask, unable to comprehend everything Peter just told you.

“Because-” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “Because, if you didn’t want anything to do with him, he probably knew that and stayed away because he didn’t want to upset you. At least, I’m assuming that’s why.”

You take a minute to take everything in, reconsidering everything you’ve ever thought about your father. All this time, you might’ve been wrong about him. Looking back on it, you can remember times when your mom would attempt to talk to you about the situation, but you’d always refused, not wanting to even think about him after what he’d done.

But now? Now, you were willing to listen.

“I’ll be back,” you blurt out before running out of the room, pushing all thoughts about Peter to the back of your mind as you search for the person you need to talk to the most.

When you find him, he’s sitting on the steps of a staircase with his head in his hands, looking rather gloomy.

“Uh, Tony?” you clear your throat awkwardly and Tony looks up at you slowly, not believing his own ears when he hears your soft voice addressing him.

“Oh, hey kid,” he says calmly, attempting to brush off any nervousness, “So, you and Spiderling, huh? I gotta admit, I didn’t see that coming. Didn’t think that kid could love anything more than he loves his homework-”

“Tony,” you tentatively place a hand on his arm for a moment before pulling away, effectively stopping his rambling. While he was talking, you’d managed to make your way up to sit next to him on the stairs. “I-I want you tell me what happened.”

“Well, it all started when I met your mom at a bar-”

You give him a look and he closes his mouth, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, genuinely confused as to why you were suddenly open to discussion after so long, “After all these years, why now?”

“Because,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “I think I’ve had the wrong picture in my head my whole life. Why we left, why you never called. All of my assumptions have caused a lot of hurt for so many people in my life, and I just want to know the truth now.”

He nods, taking a deep breath before explaining everything to you. When you were born they kept everything a secret from the press, wanting to give you as normal of a life as possible before you were inevitably discovered. However, the older you got, the harder it was for them to keep you a secret. They could continue to keep you hidden for your entire life, but what kind of life would that be? Limited to the confines of the tower, never allowed to see anyone outside of immediate family. After plenty of long, solemn discussions, your parents decided that it was best for you to move away with your mom. Tony would rather see you grow to your full potential from afar than near him and weighed down by the burden of fame.

And just like that, everything suddenly makes sense to you. While you knew it would take time to grow back into a father-daughter relationship again, you also knew it was something that you were determined to accomplish someday.

After the conversation dies, you sit quietly with him for a few minutes. As you sink into the comfortable silence, a sudden thought crosses your mind, it’s urgency causing you to jump to your feet.

��Wait- how did you knew Peter and I were dating?” you blurt out, turning to look at the amusement in Tony’s eyes.

“Saw your name on the kid’s phone. It had lots of little heart emojis by it, so I assumed,” he shrugs, smirking slightly.

“Speaking of Peter, I should, uh, probably go back and talk to him,” you begin to walk down the steps, nearly making it to the doorway before Tony yells after you.

“Hey, keep it PG!” he shouts, shooting you a wink when you turn over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you try to wipe away the smile creeping up on your face as you turn back around and make your way back to the boy you love.

Once back in the living room, you’re surprised to find that Peter is nowhere to be seen. You’re about to pull out your phone and give him a call when suddenly, you’re attacked with a hug from behind, a yelp falling from your mouth.

“Peter!” you laugh, melting into his arms, “You scared me!”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, giving you a tight squeeze before letting go and spinning you around to look you in the eyes, “Where’d you run off to?”

“I, uh, talked to my dad,” you explain, finding it a bit odd to call him Dad after so long.

His gaze softens as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “And how’d it go?”

“Pretty good, actually,” you admit, a bit surprised yourself by how smoothly it went.

“Listen, I never apologized for earlier,” he says quietly, guilt shining in his eyes, “It was wrong of me to ever say those things-”

“Shh,” you put a finger to his lips, “Yes, you may have said some things you shouldn’t have, but you were rightfully upset and I know you didn’t mean them. I’m sorry for hiding this from you for so long. Even if Tony and I weren’t talking, you still had a right to know about my past, because it’s what makes me who I am today.”

“But-”

“No buts, Peter. We’re both at fault here. Communication is key, and we both kinda failed in that area. We can talk more about this tomorrow if you want, but I’m exhausted and in need of some ice cream. Care to join me?”

Smiling, you grab his hand and try to pull him in the direction of the elevator. Instead, you were jerked backwards, shooting him a glare when you realize that he has planted his feet into the ground to prevent you from going any further.

“Actually, I have a much more efficient way of getting there….” he grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you over to the balcony outside.

“Peter, oh my god, I am NOT going to do this- AAAAA!” you scream and close your eyes as he jumps over the edge, letting your bodies fall. Your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders as he holds you close, swinging from building to building with ease. (You could’ve sworn you felt him laugh at you.)

Before you knew it, your shrieks of terror turn into shouts of glee as the wind rushes by your face. Peter assumes that you’ve gotten used to the sensation of flying through the air as he takes a quick glance at your now open eyes and wide smile. However, the real reason you’re no longer afraid was because of a single thought that crosses your mind as your hair whips around your face.

Nothing, not even swinging high above the city in the dead of night, was as scary as losing the people you loved most.

taglist (+ a few people i think might enjoy this, feel free to ignore!);

@minnie-marvel @quxntumvandyne @lokis-sunflower-anna @cynicallystiles @laurfangirl424 @misslunala @secondsineternity @peter-prkers @sighspidey @signed-potato @lokiislowkeyhot @highlady-ofthe-summercourt @0captain-marvel0 @delicately-written @thefallenbibliophilequote @tohollandback @buck-ets @newtimewriter @thedaughterofdawn @lltrashll @paradoxparker @propertyofmarvel @sagebrandy-loves-pancakes @flaminghottaquito @marvel-galaxy @moonkissedtom @yoinksholland @futzingclint @lokiismischief @whycantwebefriendz @hedwigthelegend @yellowkenyon97 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @yelyahryan @em-aesthe @peter-parker-fyeah @screechingtacoglitter @candycornparker @smexylemony @sleepybesson @hollandroos @spiderboytotherescue @starsholland @pumpkinsandparker

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angelzackery · 4 years

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WORD COUNT: 1,920 CHARACTER(S) INCLUDED: Laurel ( mentioned ), Bishop ( mentioned ) SUMMARY: Angel is too tired from her night shift at the Garbage Plate to be dealing with her boyfriend’s bullshit. Ghosts don’t make it any easier. TRIGGERS: binge-drinking, emotional abuse, mentions of death & alcoholism NOTES: The ghost story from my app! Gives insight into the toxic dynamic between Angel & her boyfriend.

The crescent moon and a chorus of cicadas are Angel’s only company as she walks home after her night shift at Garbage Plate. As much as she liked to crawl into bed and sleep the day away, she has to contend with her opening shift at Lollygag in just a few short hours. The thick stench of grease is stuck to her skin; she debates on whether to waste precious time showering or take all the sleep she can get. Rest is precious, even if she’d be responsible for stinking up the truck. Angel draws up a mental image of this week’s schedule, trying to remember who she’s opening with tomorrow morning — er, today, technically. Laurel. A blessing, because at least Angel can count on the blonde to make the shift go by quickly. But her friend definitely wouldn’t hesitate to say something about how bad she smells. A shower it is, then, if only to save Laurel from a tortuously stinky shift.

Pain pounds in her feet with each tired step and weariness sinks into her bones, but Angel’s grip on the hot pink bottle of pepper spray remains vigilantly tight. Better safe than sorry. It’s not that Angel makes a habit of walking alone late at night, but Bryan said he needed their car that evening for… something. Angel doesn’t remember questioning him about it, but she knows he was probably shooting the shit with some of his dead-beat buddies from high school.

Some (Bishop) would argue that Bryan was also a deadbeat, but Angel would argue that at least Bryan was trying to get a job. It didn’t help that someone (also Bishop) had taken it upon themselves to beat the living crap out of Bryan. How was he supposed to show up for a job interview with a black eye? As a result, Angel’s been doing what she can to make things easier for him, since it was her (ex?) friend responsible for all the trouble. And in Bryan’s eyes, that meant she was responsible. So he wanted the car for the evening? Fine, he could have it. As long as it meant Angel didn’t have to put up with another drawn-out argument about that batshit psychopath.

The car is in their driveway, thankfully, but the living room light is still on. Angel finds herself torn between feeling relieved that he’s home and worried about why he’s still up so late. Coming up to the worn-down old house she shares with Bryan always leaves Angel feeling dejected, like someone is slowly squeezing all the air out of her. It’s far from the idyllic family home she envisioned they’d share in their teenage years, back when they had the whole world ahead of them. He called it a “fixer-upper” when he first convinced her to buy it with him, promising that he’d transform it into the house of their dreams. “A castle fit for the Prom Queen.” Several years later, and the only thing that’s been “repaired” was a leak in the roof, thanks to Bryan’s ingenious use of duct tape.

It takes her a while to open the front door; a busted front lock is just another thing on the long list Bryan keeps promising to repair. When she finally gets it open, she fills her voice with all the leftover cheer she can muster to sing out, “Honey, I’m home.” The greeting is a long-running joke between the two; Bryan used to blast the Shania Twain song every time he picked her up from one of her part-time jobs in high school. They hadn’t sung together in a long time, but hopefully Bryan was in a good enough mood to reply off-key, “And I had a hard day.”

“—the fuck took you so long?” a grouchy voice calls from the living room. Angel visibly deflates, and immediately feels twice as tired. She hears the way Bryan slurs his words before she notices the empty beer bottles littering the kitchen. He didn’t usually binge-drink, knowing how sensitive she was about it due to her father, but the fight with Bishop has left Bryan acting more destructive than usual. It’s not a good look on him.

Angel doesn’t know if he’s serious with his question or looking to pick another fight. She’s not in the mood either way, too tired and too disappointed to get into it with him. “I, uh, had to walk home,” she says flatly. She doesn’t tell Bryan about how she didn’t want to trouble her coworkers for a ride, slightly embarrassed for them to see just how rundown her home is.

“You couldn’t have called me for a ride?” He stumbles out of the living room as he says that, tripping over his own unsteady feet. Angel flinches at the sight, ugly childhood memories of her father blooming in her mind without her permission. Angel hates it when Bryan gets like this, and he knows it. He of all people knows how her mother was the casualty of a drunk driver, how her father was always too drunk to properly parent her. It’s cruel of him to greet her like this, to act as though this behavior is any way appropriate. Either he’s too upset with himself to care or just that angry with her.

You’re in no shape to give anyone a ride, is what she wants to say, with all the hurt and anger festering deep within her fractured heart. But she has no energy to lash out at him, knowing that in his own way, he’s hurting, too. It’s hard to look at his face, all bruised and swollen — no doubt his pride hurts even more.

So she schools her face, and tries to keep the ice out of her voice when she responds, “I hope you didn’t drive home like this.” The thought of it makes her hands shake, house keys rattling despite her efforts to keep her cool. Not that Bryan would ever do that, but seeing him like this makes her think the worst. He reminds her too much of her father.

Bryan looks repulsed that she’d even suggest the idea, as if it’s the last thing he’d ever do — even if he just drunkenly offered her a ride. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Ang? Is that really what you think of me?”

Immediately, she realizes her mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was pile on him even more. “No, I just—”

But it’s too late. His rage gets the better of him, and he goes off at her and her daddy issues and her “weird thing” about alcohol. How all he wanted to do was relax after a stressful day, and she comes home late accusing him of heinous things. He reminds her too much of her father like this, and Angel hates herself for making the comparison. She hates herself even more for feeling like the lost little girl she once was, alone in grieving her mother and taking care of a father who lost all his cares with his wife.

She needs to get far away from Bryan and all the toxicity he breeds. But he keeps blocking her path to their bedroom no matter how many times she tries to walk away from him. It doesn’t occur to her to go out the front door and just leave. After all, where would she go at this hour? How would she explain the mess she got herself in?

I’m trapped, is all she can think as Bryan goes from disparaging her to asking her for her tips from that night. But he doesn’t settle down even after she empties her apron pocket of all the loose change and crumbled bills she has to offer. He begins accusing her of pocketing money without him knowing, and that’s the straw that finally breaks Angel’s back. She starts hoarsely shouting back about how it’s her tips and so what if she wanted to set aside some of it for her meager college fund? And then he gets on her for hiding things from him, and she accuses him of hiding his drinking from her, and that’s when shit hits the fan.

The argument has gotten so heated that neither one of them notices the sudden chill in the air, a blanket of frost covering the room. Then without warning, one of Bryan’s empty glass bottles flies from the living room and shatters against the wall in the kitchen, on the complete opposite side of the house. It’s the unexpected explosion of glass that finally shocks the two of them into silence.

Angel is left frozen in fear, paralyzed by the knowledge that they are not alone. It’s as though a spell has been put on the house, the air thick with something so otherworldly that it’s hard for her to breathe. But Bryan, predictable as ever, merely leers at the mess and grumbles, “Go clean that shit up.”

He finally trudges back to the worn-down living room couch, repelled by the mess. It’s as though he doesn’t mind the company of any restless spirits so long as they don’t get in the way of his plans to drink the night away. Meanwhile, Angel gapes at the wreckage, as if waiting for something else to come of it. But after several long moments, the spell breaks on its own. The air relaxes, and she finds herself gasping for breath.

No one’s ever thrown a beer bottle at her, but her father had accidentally broken plenty of them in drunken stupors. There’s a scar on Angel’s palm from one of the times when she got cut trying to clumsily pick up the glass. As she cleans up the mess in the kitchen, she doesn’t wonder about how the bottle propelled itself against the wall. Her fatigued mind wanders to dark corners she tried to abandon years ago, but never could. Despite everything that’s happened, all she can think about is her father, with nothing but liquor for company. Wondering if he even notices that no one’s cleaning up his messes anymore.

She wraps herself in blankets when she finally crawls into bed, unable to shake off the chill. She doesn’t sleep at all.

-------------------------------------------------

“You must’ve just knocked the bottle over,” Bryan tells her the next day when she brings it up. The argument is long from settled, but they’d both silently agreed to move past it like they always do. Rehashing it out would just lead to another and besides, it was just one stupid argument. There will be plenty more to look forward to in the future.

“It flew from the living room.” She wants to question just how drunk he was that night, to think she knocked it over. But that would just piss him off again, and the last thing she wants to do is sour his mood when he’s been so sweet to her today.

The two of them are Screamer natives, born and raised, and no stranger to every spooky legend lurking in the town’s history. Angel never thought much of it — every place had its quirks, and she was always too consumed with her father’s demons to deal with any others. But still, Angel couldn’t deny there was something haunting about their little small town.

“Flew?” He stares at her as if her mind just fell out of her pretty little head. “Babe, bottles don’t fly. You take one down, pass it around—”

“Oh, shut up.” And then he kisses her, decidedly ending the discussion for good. It’s always his call, even if she wants to analyze the possible paranormal activity even further. So she doesn’t bring it up again, too exhausted by life to be concerned with the supposed spirits of the dead. And with enough time and no more supernatural interruptions, she begins to remember it the way Bryan told her to. Maybe she did knock over the bottle without realizing it.

After all, wasn’t it usually her fault?

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ba1aphoebeowen · 4 years

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Essay Research

How does Marceline’s upbringing affect her relationships in Adventure Time?

The above is my current idea for an essay question, however after some difficultly in writing a draft with this in mind, I am considering changing it. We have a group tutorial session next week where we will be able to discuss other questions that have to do with this character and the idea of child psychology - whatever I do change it to I still want to relate it to Marceline’s childhood.

Outline Research

Marceline Research:

Marceline as a character is supposed to come off as quite the teenager, being ‘cool’ and looked up to by the younger protagonist Finn. Her aesthetic design is meant to come across this way, but behind this are certainly layers of personality and backstory that made her into what she is now. She may have started off as a ‘typical teenager’, but has developed into much more as the show has progressed.

·Art of Ooo: - Pendleton Ward on Marceline: “Girls own more than just one outfit”. Marceline wears a variety of outfits throughout the show, all keeping to a ‘teenage’ theme. Some rebellious, others elegant. - Rebecca Sugar on Marceline: “She seems bad, but she’s anxious and doesn’t have a high opinion on herself” “Tries to hurt people on purpose because that’s less painful than hurting people by accident” - Oliva Olson on Marceline: “The World sees confidence, maybe even a hint of intimidation or haughtiness. Yet, deep down, there’s always a reason she got that way. She has lots of layers.”

· Adventure Time Pitch Bible: - “Marceline is a rocker girl. She’s lived for centuries and has developed a disregard for social conventions” “Throws life to the wind” “Finn does NOT approve of Marceline’s mischievous prankster ways, but he’s totally captivated by her butt kicking appeal”

Adventure Time Episode Analysis

Many of Marceline’s relationships are quite rocky, especially at the beginning of the show. She starts off as very antagonistic toward the protagonists in her first appearance, and from that point has either teasing or negative relationships with other characters. These relationships are, however, addressed and developed in a serialised fashion and these relationships become a lot more layered.

I Remember You - Reveal of Marceline and Ice King’s relationship

This episode starts on the character of Ice King, the supposed villain of the show up to this point, singing to his penguin. He was to write a song to ‘get babes’, so goes to visit Marceline, someone he knows is proficient in this field.

His arrival is unexpected, and when Marceline sees him, all she says is “no”, quietly. She furthers their first interaction with anger, telling the Ice King that she had, on a previous occasion, to “not come around [her]”. She continues to be angry with him, wanting him out of her house, until she sees him struggling with his cables and starts to feel pity for him. When Finn and Jake enter to take him away, she decides to let him stay.

They start off with a song where Ice King talks about princesses and his favourite, Princess Bubblegum. He then gets upset as he lingers on how alone he is. Marceline starts to get uncomfortable at this point. To stop him from destroying her house in his sadness, Marceline tells him to “stop acting like this” and to “stop acting crazy”. He pushes her and instantly regrets it, apologising and getting out of her way”. This leads on to a short song by Marceline where she says things like “I’d like to help you, but I don’t know if I can”, “you know I’m actually glad to see you.” Ice King takes this the wrong way and tries to kiss her, and she tries bringing up his past life. Some of the clippings of newspapers he brought had images of him “before the war”.

Using some notes Simon wrote during the war, they sing a final song focusing on Simon’s sadness at how crazy he’s becoming due to the crown. Marceline gets some insight into what Simon, her parental figure, was feeling during the worst time of his life – slowly losing his memory of her whilst trying to save her. “Please forgive me for whatever I do when I don’t remember you”.

This episode is the first to show Marceline and Ice King’s relationship in more detail and gives a good overview to it. When Marceline was young, for whatever reason, she was left alone on Earth in the remnants of the Mushroom War. Simon finds her and takes care of her for as long as he can before the effects of the crown drive him to insanity, and at this point, he leaves too. From this we can determine that Marceline was left alone without a caregiver for two stretches of her life where she desperately needed one.

More of their relationship during Marceline’s childhood is explored in the episode “Simon and Marcy”. Here we can see Simon’s drift into madness as he uses the crown to keep them safe. Due to their past, Marceline feels melancholic toward Ice King, wishing that he would remember her as she does him. Later in the show, she gets the chance to talk to Simon again, and they reconcile this issue for the moments they can be together. This happens in the episode “Betty”, where she sacrifices an important thing to her in order to help him fulfil his final wish.

It came from the Nightosphere - Reveal of Marceline’s father

This episode starts with Finn and Marceline singing a song together, where Marceline sings a strange song about her father eating her fries, giving it a very sad tone. “Daddy do you even love me, well I wish you’d show it ‘cause I wouldn’t know it.” In this first scene we can already see some of Marceline’s relationship with her father.

She wants him to care, but she doesn’t seem to want to put in the effort to see him, so Finn does it for her. Hunson Abadeer, Marceline’s father, introduces himself by trying to eat Finn’s soul and has an evil aura to him in general. He then leaves to devour the souls of everyone in Ooo – Marceline seems indifferent to this issue, and instead just wants to get her axe bass back, which her father stole.

Although Marceline is angry with Finn for bringing her father there, they have a light-hearted relationship throughout this episode “Marceline, drop the Finn bomb!”.

Marceline attacks her father to get her bass back, but when he says, “you can’t destroy me”, she stops. “I don’t want to destroy you, look, just stay out of my life!”. She gives up on attacking and talks to Finn and says “I just want my dad to care about me”.

They continue to face Hunson until Finn gets to the point where he gets the axe out of his grip, and Marceline gets it back, and the interactions between her and her father at this victory reflect a teenager / father relationship “in your face dad!” “Give back that axe Marceline! You don’t respect it enough”. They end this exchange by walking away from each other, and Finn tries to keep them together by playing the song Marceline sings at the start of the episode.

“Marceline, do you really feel this way? Of course, I love you.” As they reconcile, Finn finishes his mission by stabbing Hunson to release the souls he’s eaten and sends him back to the Nightosphere. Marceline’s mad at him for embarrassing her, but they end on a friendly note.

From this episode we can gather that Marceline and Hunson’s relationship is complicated but is also familiar, in the way that it’s a teenager and parent relationship. They no longer see eye to eye at all, especially since being separated by different dimensions, and due to a fry eating incident, Marceline feels like her dad no longer cares about her. She would rather pretend he didn’t exist, but still lets her feelings about him eat away at her. Hunson doesn’t seem to notice much tension between them, and while he feels like she doesn’t respect certain family values – such as the axe that was passed down to her – he still loves her and doesn’t see that she questions that. He’s loving but distant.

They interact further in other episodes. We see that in the past it was Simon that looked after Marceline when she was abandoned as a child, and we must question where her father was in the scenario. In a flashback clip in “Marcy & Hunson”, much further on in the show, we see that when Simon had to leave Marceline, he sent Hunson to care for her in his place. In this flashback, he shows no regard for the time that Marceline must have spent alone and acts as if they were already acquainted. In this episode he also shows extreme pride in Marceline’s concert performance but doesn’t realise his boundaries.

Marceline’s relationship with her father is distant. As her only biological family in the show, you would think they would be closer, but there was no attachment to him as a child. He was always just some random guy that popped in and out of her life and didn’t give her the emotional support she needed growing up.

Ketchup - Background to Marceline’s mother

This episode features just Marceline and BMO. It starts off with BMO showing up to Marceline’s house to fight a vampire threat that had already been dealt with, but Marceline finds something else for them to do. She has an old USB that BMO can help her investigate, and whilst it scans, they tell some stories. Animation wise, these are very stylised. BMO’s story has a vert fantastical twist to it, demonstrating their childish attitudes.

Marceline tells a story about her and Princess Bubblegum, and their relationship as best friends, and the recent events in the show.

The USB then reveals its contents, and we see some images, the most important being one of Marceline with her mother. Throughout the show, we don’t get to see much of Marceline’s mother at all, and while she doesn’t reveal anything about their relationship, BMO creates a story with the picture. The story they create suggests that the mother could only be with Marceline for a short time, but she had to leave after a certain period. In response, Marceline says “I think I’ve heard a story like that, a long, long time ago”.

As stated, we don’t see much of Marceline’s mother throughout the show, the most notable other appearance being in “Everything Stays”, where she and a child Marceline are seen in what seems to be a mobile home in the middle of some fields. Marceline’s mum just finishes talking about how she met Hunson and tells Marceline to sleep. She complains that her dreams are too “weird” to sleep, and her mother responds that “something weird might just be something familiar viewed from a different angle, and that’s not scary, right?”

Marceline’s relationship with her maternal mother was short-lived, and while it seemed like she only had her mother there at the time, this area of her childhood seemed okay. But Marceline only has her mother, it seems, which would have created a lot of dependency on her throughout this time. It looks to be before the war started, so before Simon finds her alone, giving some more context as to what must have happened at this time. Marceline’s mother, whether willing or not, was the first person that she cared for to leave her.

What was Missing - Relationship to Princess Bubblegum

This episode is fairly early in the show, with quite a simple scenario – a range of character have something that was very important to them stolen by a ‘door lord’, and they all work together to get it back. In the end, they must perform a song as a band to open the door and get their stuff back. Marceline, being the musician of the group, starts the attempts by singing a song that seems directed at Princess Bubblegum, talking about how she wants to, effectively, kill her.

When PB complains, she grows agitated and says “you don’t like that? Or do you just not like me!”. The song she sings now describes how she’s not perfect enough for PB and hints at an earlier relationship where they ended on bad terms. “I’m just your problem”.

This song ends when Marceline gets very deep into her emotions, and decides to pull back, reverting to more vulgar lyrics that suggest killing PB rather than making up with her.

In the original episode, Marceline goes as far as to spit on PB, causing her to try and leave. Finn pulls everyone back together for one last shot at opening the door, singing a song about their friendship.

When the door does open, it’s revealed that PB’s important item was a band shirt that Marceline had given her a long time ago, something she now wears as pjs.

Up until this point in the show, Marceline and Princess Bubblegum’s relationship was portrayed as teasing and mean, but this episode gave this more context, that something had happened. In future episodes, like “Varmints”, we discover that PB got very busy with creating and managing her candy kingdom, and didn’t have time for Marceline anymore, which is most likely what caused the rift in their relationship. In the series finale “Come along with me”, their relationship is fully reconciled, and they kiss, confirming that they had a romantic relationship in the end.

Marceline spends a lot of the show pushing PB away and not wanting to get too emotionally involved with her again. In the episode “Sky Witch”, she goes to PB for help recovering her childhood toy, but tries to keep it professional – PB was just the only one that could help, that was all.

Stakes (Miniseries) as a whole - Reveal of Marceline’s mother and growing up

In this episode, we get a few flashes into Marceline’s past. We start off with her mother and a young Marceline, who wants to play, but her mother tells her it’s instead nap time. Marceline complains that her dreams are too weird to sleep, and her mother comforts her, saying that “all dreams are weird”, and begins to sing a song:

Let’s go in the garden,you’ll find something waiting Right there where you left it lying upside down When you finally find it, you’ll see that it’s faded The other side is lighter when you turn it around Everything stays, right where you left it Everything stays, but it still changes Ever so slightly, daily and nightly In little ways, where everything stays

We then move on into the future, where Marceline has lost her mother and now only has Simon. He’s preparing to leave, seeing himself as too dangerous to be near Marceline anymore. Marceline doesn’t want him to go. We then see a teenage Marceline, hunting vampires. She’s fighting for moral good here, but still has these violent tendencies.

The same teenage Marceline is then seen meeting humans and being very friendly but not quite fitting in, the people seeing her as an evil vampire. She still seeks their approval though, and wants to help them. This takes some time, and she eventually becomes friends with them after they recognize their connection through music. She continues to live with these humans to help and protect them from vampires. She wants to rid them of their threats to keep them there, because for whatever reason she can’t go with them. This accumulates in a fight between her and the vampire king - the humans lose trust for her after this, and she becomes immortal.

Throughout this series of episodes, we see Marceline addressing her vampirism and wanting to be rid of it. She’s seen history repeating itself over and over, and doesn’t want to be around for it anymore - she wants a normal, human lifespan, even if it means eventually perishing.

“Some bad things happened to me when I was little. When I became a vampire I was a messed up kid. Now it’s a thousand years later and I’m still messed up”

Throughout this mini series, Marceline has multiple dreams addressing her feelings toward the current situation, the first of which shows a distinct wish to not be a vampire anymore, and to separate herself from it. She feels as if this is her identity though, and in the dream her body breaks apart.

In another episode, we see a bit more of Marceline’s past without Simon. As a roughly 10-12 year old child, she had to fend for herself (find herself food, build herself a shelter etc). Other people still didn’t want to interact with her at this time.

#character research

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homesoutofhuman · 6 years

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Daddy Issues: John Wick/Reader Part 16

‘The Other Woman’

Do you wish I was a bit more like her? - Paloma Faith, Picking up the pieces

You miss John as soon as you leave and tell yourself off for it. You cannot get so attached, not knowing yet what this is going to turn into. John is so serious, understandably, as he has a kid, but you long to bring out the other side to him, to show him that life can be fun and not all responsibility.

You have responsibilities yourself, having committed to help a friend move house at the weekend you keep your promise, and spend two days shifting boxes. A thought runs through your head that with John’s help it would be done in one, his strong arms and shoulders would make short work of the task, but then again, he’d distract you so much that if he was there you might not get much moving done.

You leave her, set up with at least a kettle and mugs ready for tea, and really, what else does anyone need? And head home, exhausted. You check your phone for the first time all weekend and see a voicemail from John. You listen, hearing his voice low and cautious, as if he was unsure how to leave a message.

“Hi...uh...guess you’re busy...I just wanted to say…” there is a shriek from Connor in the background “sorry...we wanted to say, we miss you and were wondering if you..yes I’m asking her…” John sighs in frustration, and you can imagine him gripping the phone tightly. “If you wanted to come on an adventure with us tomorrow night...it’s a surprise so stop trying to guess. I’ll see you after work so bring a sweater if you want to come….nights are getting a bit chilly now.”

He’s such a dad, you think, but your face splits wide with your fond grin.

“Anyway...bye...and okay, okay...Connor says bye too…”

You hear the click as he hangs up and you run to shove a sweater into your bag so you don’t forget it, then lay awake most of night, eager to see your two favourite boys.

John has already left for work when you arrive at his house the next day, and Connor keeps putting his finger to his lips whenever you ask him what the plan is for the evening, John must have sworn him to secrecy. You giggle, seeing his father’s sternness in Connor’s big brown eyes, ruffle his curls and praise him. He looks concerned for a moment, then settles happily to his drawing. You stand and watch him, your heart aching a bit for the motherless child, you wonder how anyone could have abandoned him, but you also know that life sometimes deals bad cards, and you cannot judge anyone until you’ve been in their position.

There is a knock at the door and you are startled from your thoughts, moving to look through the peephole you see Santino D’Antonio, looking rather put out at being made to wait. You sigh and swing open the door.

“John’s not here…”

Santino’s frown turns into a charming smile when he sees you, thrusting a large bouquet of white lilies into your hands.

“I came to see you principessa…”

You hold the flowers but do not move off the mat to let him in, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m a bit busy Mr D’Antonio...watching Connor…”

He frowns, looking down at his hands which you notice are smaller than John’s and rather delicate.

“I wanted to apologise for the other night, but I’d rather not do so standing on the doorstep.”

Remembering John’s devotion to manners you sigh and step back, gesturing Santino to come inside. You drop the flowers on the table and turn with your arms crossed, not ready to let your guard down.

Santino has moved to Connor and lifted him into his arms, swinging him round a bit. This causes you come nearer, whether it was his intention or not, your concern for Connor is paramount. Still, Connor doesn’t seem too upset, laughing but then demanding to be put down.

Santino deposits him back on the carpet and you bite your lip and hug yourself a bit, not sure what he wants or why he is here. He stares at you openly a few moments.

“Cute...kid….”

You nod, feeling the protective lioness roaring to life inside you, John would be so proud.

“He is. His father’s son y’see…”

Santino snorts “I wouldn’t call John Wick ‘cute’.”

You let out an impatient breath. “You came to say something?”

Santinto turns the charm back on then “Sì. Will you forgive me for being so rude, spoiling your evening?”

You’re close enough now to see the faint bruise on his face where John hit him, and you wonder at the fact he’s saying sorry after that.

“You didn’t spoil it, I had a lovely evening.” a flash of John kissing you like he was dying enters your head and you flush a bit.

Santino of course doesn’t miss a thing. “I’m...glad. Still, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. Myself and John, were friends not so long ago.”

You can see he is wanting to stay and talk, and you know you should offer him coffee, that’s what John would do, but you really don’t want this man in the house any longer than necessary.

“Then I’ll pass on your apology to him…” you move to Connor, standing between him and Santino, protectively caressing his curls.

Santino watches you. “I knew his mother you know?”

You freeze, feeling a rush of curiosity, not just for Connor’s sake but shamefully, your own. You are constantly plagued by the spectre of this woman, Connor’s mother, John’s former lover, and how you must measure up in comparison.

Santino smiles a reptilian smile, seeing he has used the right bait to catch your attention. “We were all three of us friends once...working together. Everyone was crazy for her, she was so beautiful..but of course..John was the one who got her in the end.”

“You were jealous.” you state, flatly, feeling nausea rising at his story.

“I am always jealous when someone else gets the things I want.” he stares at you intently, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Must be polite, you hear John’s voice ringing in your ears.

“Come work for me.” Santino changes tack, seeing he is losing you.

“You don't have children…”

“No…” he replies a little wistfully, and for a moment you see the humanity in him, the vulnerability behind the facade of charm. He’d be a much better man if he let that out more.

“But I can see your potential….I will find you something to do...you cannot think of staying here forever y/n….it’s not a sustainable option. Connor will go to school and John...well he’s not one for domestic life...”

He is stating your fears out loud and you hate it, you almost want to put your hands over your ears like a child.

“I can look after myself Santino…but, thank you...for the concern…” you soften your words, giving him a chance to show the good side of himself.

Santino opens his mouth to protest more but then closes it, his vivid eyes gentle for a moment. “Please give my regards to Mr Wick, and if you change your mind, my card is with the flowers.”

He gives you a short nod and you walk him to the door. He lingers a moment, his eyes running over your face and you feel a tiny shiver that you’re not sure is fear or something else.

He brings his mouth close to your ear for a moment, talking quietly so Connor can’t hear “She was nothing like you...”

You shut the door firmly behind him and carry on with your day. You’re shaken up. Santino has placed a tempting tree of knowledge before you, the apples on it the truth about John’s former life. But unlike Eve you know you must resist his seductive whisperings, and trust that John will not betray you.

=======TBC==========

Banner by @thatlittlered thank you eternally

#hahahaha i'm so sorry #i had to let him bring a little mischief into this perfect world #john wick x reader #john wick x you #daddy issues #feat santino

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master-sass-blast · 6 years

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Authority Issues

Well, well, well. What do we have here?

(AN: I’m not abandoning Strong as Stone. This was just my entertainment for the day.)

Long story short: I had a dream with Piotr Rasputin/Colossus in it last night. It was glorious. I might’ve kissed him.

Like I said. Glorious.

And thus, after kissing the dream Colossus, I woke up inspired to write some fanfiction loosely inspired by my dream.

So, essentially, welcome to my latest hyperfixation.

For the record, I haven’t seen the Deadpool movies. I haven’t read the X-Men Comics. I haven’t seen the X-Men movies.

Yes, you got that right, this is undoubtedly the crackiest fic you’ll ever read.

Or maybe not. I’ll let you be the judge.

So, loosely based in the Deadpool Movieverse/X-Men universe, I present you this: a self insert pic with Colossus.

You’re welcome.

Also, @colossus-and-cable, I blame you for suckering me into this hyperfixation! Because of your brilliant writing, I can’t get enough Colossus content!

Well, they say create the content you want to see.

Rating: M for kidnapping, mentions of abuse, sexual assault, sequences of terrifying action (nightmares), and stong language.

Pairing: Reader x Piotr Rasputin.

Alright, so, it wasn’t your fault. Technically.

Remember that ‘technically.’ It’ll come in handy later.

For context: you are the latest trainee/recruit/refugee at the Mutant Mansion a la Professor Xavier is really stinking rich to afford the utilities bills for this group.

You’d seen the X-Mansion briefly, two years ago, on a newscast that your mother had turned off as soon as she’d seen you watching it, then forced you up to your room to ‘pray for protection against the ungodly lures of the outside world.’

Ah, the joys of growing up in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere --zero tolerance of the queers, people of color, and mutants.

You’d read about the X-mansion’s purpose --taking in and training mutants to control their powers--in a newspaper article a few months later --well after your parents had decided that TV was ‘too great a portal to temptation’ for someone of your ‘unnatural, hedonistic tendencies.’

You’d been shocked. You hadn’t known that there was an actual group out there that was willing to take in mutants, much less train them.

Your father had ripped the paper out of your hands a few moments later and tossed it into the burning fire, stating that the X-Men were nothing more than heathens upsetting the natural order of God’s holy creation.

Perhaps with some great amount of foresight, your parents had decided to lock you into your room that night. Not that it mattered; the lock on your bedroom door had always been easy to pick.

No one ever said that foresight and practical wisdom were the same things.

You’d packed a bag of everything that mattered --clothes, toiletries, a stuffed bear, your state ID--then crept downstairs and broken into the family safe. You’d taken all of your paperwork --birth certificate, social security card--and all the cash that your parents had kept in there, and left.

Looking back on it, you were incredibly lucky the universe had gifted you with the powers to control air and wind. Instead of having to plot out a route via bus and train routes --thus risking being caught by the authorities and shipped back home--you could simply fly to the X-Mansion, stopping to buy food and rest as needed. Within a couple days, you’d found the X-Mansion, dropped yourself on their doorstep, knocked, and asked if you could stay.

Which, apparently, they were used to, because they’d just said ‘sure’ and let you in.

Two years later and look at you now!

A --still, technically--trainee on account of your difficulty controlling your powers and hot, hot issues with authority, under the tutelage of the X-Men. Free room, personal bathroom, three hot meals a day, and the fastest WiFi the world has ever seen.

And, well... a boyfriend, too.

Piotr Rasputin, code name Colossus, with the real secret to his identity being that he was a massive marshmallow with a heart of gold. He’d wooed you in his own sweet, subtle way as he’d helped you adjust to your new life at Xavier’s, taking your poor impulse control and hot, hot issues with authority in his patient, gentle stride.

It had been a good two years. The best two years of your life.

Which wasn’t to say that everything was perfect...

Right, so this is where the ‘technically’ comes in. And, as with ninety percent of your ‘technically’s, Wade Wilson is along for the ride.

You and Wade get along like a house on fire --compatible in all the wrong ways and usually resulting in some sort of damage to persons and/or property.

Wade, also known as Deadpool, also known as the Merc’ with a Mouth, also known as ‘the Obnoxious Red Dildo,’ has widely known and accepted authority issues, zero impulse control, and a daddy kink a mile wide that he likes to remind everyone of at any given moment --which is all of them.

You, the formerly repressed and abused mutant who has had their first taste of freedom and are itching for more, are --unfortunately--all too willing to help Wade execute any sort of prank, joke, or hijink, because for fuck’s sake, people, live a little!!!

Cue today’s incident.

It had started with a bet. Wade had bet you that there was no way in hell you could use your powers just right to launch a lit firework into Scott Summer’s --aka Cyclops’s--room.

The man had given you kitchen duty for being fifteen minutes late to morning training. The loser had to buy the winner pizza. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!

You're just about to light the firework when something lifts Wade off the ground and hefts him to the side. A large shadow falls over you, and you look up with a cheesy grin. “Hi, babe.”

Piotr stares down at you, arms across his chest. He’s in defense mode, which means he isn’t here on the friendliest of terms. “What are you doing, myshka?”

You look down at the firework in one hand, the lighter in the other, then up at Scott’s open window. “Uh...” You look back up at Piotr and give him the most convincing look you can muster. “Arts and crafts?”

He isn’t convinced. “Professor Xavier sensed your plan.”

Ah. Well. That would do it.

“Hey! Russia’s Greatest Love Machine!” Wade interrupts, madder than a hornet and a little more crooked than the human body usually looks. “Stop fucking throwing me everywhere, you giant metal dildo!”

“Wade, watch your language, please.”

“Suck a cock!”

“In my defense,” You interject before Piotr can go off on his usual spiel about rules and ‘appropriate language,’ “it was Wade’s idea.”

“Hey!”

Piotr is still unmoved. “You are capable of making your own choices, dorogoy. Wade did not force you.”

“He was going to buy me a pizza, Colossus! How do you expect me to refuse?”

“Hey, that was only if I lost!”

“Yeah, well, you were gonna lose!”

Piotr sighs, shakes his head, then extends a hand to help you off the ground. Even when he’s busting you for misbehavior, he still treats you with the utmost respect and courtesy. “Come. We need to talk to Professor.”

You sigh and trail after him. This is gonna suck.

It does, in fact, suck. Talking to Xavier --again--sucks like a vacuum cleaner gone prostitute that’s hellbent on sucking its client’s dick off.

The professor, as always, is patient with you in talking about rules and your struggles with following them.

Scott Summers, who must have a serious anal kink considering how far he has a pole wedged up is ass, is not. “I’ve just about had enough of your acting out! Either act your age or--”

“Or what?” You interrupt with a roll of your eyes. “You’ll kick me out?”

“No,” Professor Xavier interjects firmly before Scott can speak. “You will always have a safe place at the Institute, Y/N.”

Scott scoffs. “Safe for her and no one else.”

You narrow your eyes at Scott. “Says the guy who has to wear glorified sunglasses all the time or he’ll blow a hole through the wall. You look like a tool, by the way.”

“Your destructive tendencies are way out of hand!” Scott snaps.

“My destructive tendencies? Logan goes through four phones a month and cut your bike in half because you drank one of his beers! How come he always gets away with it?”

“We’re not talking about that right now!”

You sit back and your chair and nod, feigning amicability. “Ah, I see. You’re a misogynist.”

“Y/N--”

“No wonder Jean’s always looking at Logan the way she does. You must be a pain in the--”

Scott’s hand smacks down on Xavier’s desk, cutting you off. “Are you looking for extra kitchen duty? Because I’ll be happy to provide it for you.”

You refocus on Xavier. “Okay, I have an administrative question. Why’d you make the actual tyrant in charge of punishment duty?”

“I run a fair and understanding system!”

“You gave me three nights of kitchen duty after I was late for morning training! By fifteen minutes!” You look back at Colossus, who is standing post in the back of the room. “Does that seem fair to you?”

Piotr flounders. “Well... being on time is important...”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not honestly siding with him.”

“I think things have gotten out of hand,” Xavier says, reasserting control over the room. “And I think I need some time to speak with Mr. Summers about his ‘system.’”

Scott recoils. “What?”

You pump your fist in the air. “Ha! Suck it, dickhead!”

“In the meantime,” Xavier added with a stern, if somewhat amused look in your direction. “Mr. Rasputin, I’m discharging Y/N into your care. I’d like to keep her separated from Mr. Wilson until she and I have had a chance to talk about the root of her rebellion.”

Your mouth falls open at the Professor’s orders, and your shock only mounts as Piotr actually accepts. You’re so shocked that you let yourself be ushered out by the metal man himself --ever gentle and respectful of your space--into the hall and away from Xavier’s office.

It isn’t until you’re halfway down the hall that it hits.

Rage. Red hot and burning. Rage at being chastised by Scott, rage at Piotr’s refusal to defend you, rage at being unfairly separated from your best friend. You were an adult, for fuck’s sake! You could make your own decisions!

You storm ahead of Piotr, ignoring his concerned calls, and march to your room.

Like the exposition said: hot, hot issues with authority.

You manage to grab the essentials --bag, wallet, ID, phone--and make it halfway to the front door before he catches you.

Technically, he’s already waiting there for you, in his human form.

Well, that would explain how he beat you there and why you didn’t hear him.

Piotr looks up at you, expression patient if somewhat admonishing. “And where I are you going, dorogaya moya?”

“Out,” You say. No point in denying the obvious.

Piotr sighs and shakes his head. “I do not think that would be wise.”

You shrug. “Arguable. I just need some time to blow off some steam.”

Piotr presses his lips into a firm line. “Y/N.”

Uh-oh. You recognize that tone --the ‘we need to talk as serious adults about serious things in a serious manner.’

Right now, it’s just seriously annoying.

“This is fifth incident in as many weeks.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, can the record please note that Wade and I have been trying to scale back our ‘escapades?’ The car blowing up was a complete accident, not that Scott cared --oh, by the way, thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

That one lands hard, you can tell by the way his shoulders tense. “This behavior is irresponsible.”

“What, exactly, is with the vendetta against having fun?”

“Throwing firework into someone’s room is dangerous, myshka. Someone could have been hurt.”

You roll your eyes again. “It was a smoke bomb, Piotr. Not a 4th of July finale piece! Remember was I said about ‘scaling back?’” You finish descending the stairs and reach for the door handle.

Piotr reaches out --not much of a reach, he’s still a giant in his human form--and places his hand against the door. “No, myshka. You stay here.”

You bristle as you glare up at him. “I don’t remember for asking for you permission.”

Piotr exhales through his nose, the first sign that he’s actually getting frustrated with you. “The Professor--”

“Is not my dad.”

“--has asked me to watch you.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to come with me, I wouldn’t mine.” You grin up at him. “It could be a date.”

“I have things to do here.”

“Of course. Well, in that case...” You yank at the door, but Piotr is unmovable. “Look, Piotr, I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.”

“My instructions are to look after you. I cannot do that if you are not here.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And how are you going to keep me here? Lock me in my room like my parents did?”

The comparison hurts him, you can tell by the way his blue eyes flash, but it’s enough of a distraction to suit your purposes.

While he’s still reeling from your words, you rip the door open and dart onto the front lawn. You can hear Piotr pursuing you, shouting your name, but outrunning him is easy, even when he’s in his human form. You simply manipulate the air around you to propel you forward. Before he’s even taken three strides, you’re over the wall and out of sight.

You grin as your feet hit the ground outside the wall that borders the grounds of the mansion and run towards the city.

Freedom.

The first thing you do is find a diner and order a heaping plate of food. A massive, greasy cheeseburger with extra bacon, a small mountain of fries, fresh out of the fryer, and a thick, sugary chocolate milkshake that comes in a glass bigger than your head.

It tastes like heaven. Junk food is in rare supply at the mansion, what with Piotr’s obsession with proper nutrition. You love him for it, but you miss your guilty pleasures.

The next thing you do is find that arcade Wade took you to for your birthday. You still have the credit card he bought for you, and you spend the day switching from game to game as you please.

It’s early evening when you leave, and it occurs to you that Piotr is going to be absolutely --you’d use the word furious, but you’re not sure if that’s even genetically possible for him--upset with you when you get back to the mansion, so you stop by the chocolate shop he took you to on your first date and pick up some fudge for him. He rarely treats himself, but you know it’s a favorite.

As you start walking the path back to the mansion, you get the eerie sensation that you’re being watched. Maybe it’s just the unfamiliarity of the city after growing up in a small town, maybe it’s just being a woman in an unfamiliar place while the sun is setting, but--

You look behind you, trying to find anything out of the ordinary.

A man, wearing a black sweatshirt, quickly turns to look in one of the store fronts.

You watch him, anxiety churning in your stomach. You catch his eye, he nods, and starts walking in the opposite direction.

You sigh in relief, and resume your progress back to the mansion. False alarm.

A few blocks later, and that creeping sensation on the back of your neck is back with a vengeance. You turn around again, unable to shake the suspicion that was curling in your chest.

The man in the black sweatshirt was back, standing about twenty feet behind you.

You grit your teeth as you pick up your pace. You focus on trying to find a place where you can duck out of sight and use your powers to run back home, back to the safety of the X-mansion, back to Piotr’s waiting arms --because even when you’ve been an ass, he’ll still oblige you with buckets of affection.

You spot an alley ahead --not ideal, but out of sight enough that you should be able to levitate yourself to a roof top, then hide there until the guy goes away and fly home.

You glance over your shoulder to check the pace of the guy following you and nearly have a coronary.

He’s now five feet behind you.

How did he catch up that fast? You break off into a run, desperate to reach the alley before the guy reaches you.

A man steps out of the alley, grinning malevolently at you. “Going somewhere, doll?”

You barely have time to skitter to a stop before something hits you in the back of your head, knocking you to the ground.

Your last thought before you lose consciousness is how bizarrely empty the streets are.

“Hey there, doll. Open those pretty eyes for me.”

You come to in some sort of basement, dirty and littered with crumpled beer cans and other garbage. You’re tied to a chair, arms tied to the arms and legs to the legs, with another thick rope tying your waist to back of the chair. There’s a gag in your mouth and odd weight hanging around your neck.

The man that jumped out at you is sitting in a chair in front of you, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “You’ve been difficult to track down. Lucky us, you decided to step outside your precious fortress for the day.”

You’d smirk at the man if you weren’t gagged. Apparently, for all their efforts to find you, they didn’t research your powers very well. You flick your fingers, ready to send the man flying across the room with a gust of wind.

Nothing happens.

You try again, then again, stomach sinking with dread as the man’s grin grows.

Nothing.

The man leans forward and taps at the weight on your neck, a soft metallic sound resulting from the press of his fingernails. “Suppression collar. No powers for you.”

Shit.

Left with nothing else, you try to yank yourself out of your restraints. You thrash and struggle to no avail --no amount of training was going to make you as strong as Piotr, even in his human form.

“They told me you were feisty. Apparently, you tried to run away from home several times before finding the X-Men.” The man leans forward, watching you with a lurid gaze as you struggle.

You growl at him through the gag. Just wait, motherfucker. I’ll get out of these ropes, and then I’m going to beat your ass stupid.

“Not gonna lie. It’s pretty hot.”

You try to flinch away as he reaches towards your face, but are ultimately subjected to the unpleasant sensation of his fingers caressing your cheek.

His touch is nothing like Piotr’s --it’s too rough, too forceful, and nowhere near loving enough.

“Now, we’re supposed to just take you back home--”

Your eyes widen at the mention of home --the small town you grew up in--and you start your struggle to free yourself anew.

“--but maybe we should have some fun first. After all, we’re not in any hurry.”

You stiffen and stare at him as your mind puts together what ‘fun’ might mean, then thrash around violently, almost knocking yourself over in the process.

The man reaches out and grabs the chair, forcing it back into its normal position. “Of course, I’d have to untie you for that, and I don’t want to risk you running away...” He turns to look at the other man --the one that had been wearing the hoodie. “Go get me the paralytics.”

You watch, horrified and on the verge of tears as the other man walks away and up the stairs, and let out a muffled scream.

“Oh, it’s alright,” the man said, leaning in to run his tongue over the shell of your ear. “You’ll be doing a lot of that later, and you’ll be loving it.”

You’re about to headbutt him, but are distracted by the sound of several heavy thuds on the floor above you.

You and the man look up in unison, both trying to discern the source of the noises.

Then, there were several brief bursts of gunfire, accompanied by several metallic pings.

Silence follows.

The man growls under his breath and pulls a gun out of his jacket. He points it at your head. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You watch him ascend the stairs, then start trying to work yourself free. In your efforts, you cant the chair sideways and fall on your side, back to the stairs. You wince at the impact --your arm’s going to be bruised as shit later.

You flinch at the sound of another gunshot.

Everything’s silent for a minute, and then there are footsteps on the stairs again.

You start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you try anything to wiggle your way free.

Then, there are a pair of hands on your shoulders, pulling you up and turning you around, and--

Piotr kneels in front of you, resplendent even in his human form, smiling reassuringly. “It’s alright, moya lyubov’. I’ve got you.”

You draw in a sharp breath and moan at him through the gag.

“Hang on.” He pulls the gag out of your mouth --carefully, the man is always careful--and lifts it over your head.

A cry bubbles out your mouth, followed by a breathless apology. “Piotr-- I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry--”

His thumbs are already wiping the tears off your cheeks while his lips press sweet, gentle kisses along your hairline. “It’s okay, myshka, I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He leans back and flashes you a crooked grin. “Let’s get you out of here, da?”

You nod, already itching to be out of the chair and in his arms. “Da. Yes. Si. Now, please.”

He chuckles and pulls a knife off his belt. “I need you to hold very, very still, moya lyubov’. Can you do that for me?”

You nod again and focus on holding still while he works at the ropes holding you in place. “How did you find me?”

“Tracker on your phone. Men forgot to turn it off.”

You manage a weak, half-hearted giggle. “Idiots.”

He chuckles back, mostly because it’s clear that’s the response you wanted. “So, what did you get up to before all this happened?”

“Oh, you know.” You tip your head back to try and hold back the tears that are threatening to reappear. “Got a bite to eat, smashed Wade’s highscore in Pac-Man at the arcade.” You manage a wavery smile as you tip your head forward to look at him. “I stopped by that chocolate shop you took me to on our first date, got you some fudge.”

“That was very sweet of you, dorogoy.” He’s done with your legs and waist and already halfway through the ropes on your left arm.

Your laugh comes out less as amused and more as hysterical. “Yeah, well, I figured it’d pay to have a bribe.”

“Bribe?”

“To get back in your good graces after being an ass.”

He smiles at you, soft and sweet, as he tosses away the rope that had been holding your left arm in place. “You don’t have to earn my ‘good graces,’ Y/N. You’ll always have them.”

It’s serendipitous timing that he finishes freeing your right arm in that moment, because you want nothing more than to be in his arms after that comment. You launch yourself at him, winding your arms around his neck. You sob, the weight of what could’ve happened hitting you full force, and press your face against his chest.

Piotr is forced to temporarily abandon his knife, tossing it off to the side so he can wrap his arms around you. He’s massive, exceedingly so, and it’s easy for him to curl himself around your --much smaller--body. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Piotr! I shouldn’t have run off, and I shouldn’t have said those things, and--”

“It’s okay, dorogaya moya, it’s fine.” He presses his lips against your forehead. “Let’s get you out of here, then we talk. But first.” His hands turn to the solid steel you know so well, and he presses his fingers against the suppression collar. “Hold still.”

You keep yourself still as he tears the collar off of you, then let out a relieved breath, sending a gust of wind throughout the dusty basement.

“Much better,” Piotr murmurs as he rubs his hand up and down your back.

You press against him, trying to close every tiny gap between you and him. You’re shaking like a leaf in a gale, body trembling with adrenaline and relief. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifts you into his arms and wind your arms around his neck as he starts carrying you up the wooden stairs. “I half expected you to come down in full metal.”

“House is very old,” Piotr grunts as he navigates the rickety steps with ease. “I am surprised I did not fall through floor.” He pauses halfway up the steps to look at you. “You may want to close your eyes.”

You oblige him and lean your head against his shoulder. “A grisly scene, unfit for the eyes of a lady?”

A puff of laughter ghosts over your cheek. “There was struggle.”

You can’t resist the temptation to peek at the scene as he carries you through the house. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of bodies crisscrossing the floor, riddled with bullet holes.

“I thought I told you to close eyes.”

“You should know by now I’m not good at listening.”

That finagles a chuckle out of him. “Stubborn girl.”

“Well, duh.” You peer at the bullet holes --some in the bodies, some in the walls--then check Piotr over for any sign of injury. “How’d you survive the shooting?”

“I came in defense mode. I was not sure stairs would hold me, so I changed.”

“They should’ve thought about the ricochet.”

“Da.”

The sun is almost done setting as he carries you outside to the awaiting jet.

You wince as your eyes adjust to the fading natural light, then blink as you realize you couldn’t have been captured for more than a few hours. “How did you know to come looking for me in the first place?”

“Professor Xavier got letter from intelligence operative. Said your parents had hired bounty hunters to find you and to keep you at X-Mansion until coast was clear.” He clears his throat and ducks his head, looking sheepish. “My... over-protective instincts got the better of me.”

You can’t help but tremble in his arms at the mention of your parents or the fact that they hired a fucking bounty hunter, good God. Your stomach churns as the memory of the hired man threatening to rape you and asking for paralytics, and you cling tighter to him. “Well, I’m glad they did.”

“So am I, moya lyubov’. So am I.” He carries you onto the jet and sets you on one of the seats. “Stay here. I will come back when we are in stable flight pattern.”

You try to stay in the seat as he starts the take off process, but you can’t help but stumble up to the cockpit after him.

“Yes, I found her.” Piotr looks up at you as you press yourself against his arm, and pauses to kiss your forehead. “She is alright, a little shaky.” He pauses again as he pilots the jet high enough to clear the top of the trees and surrounding buildings, then nods as the voice in the pilot’s headset speaks. “Da. We are on our way back now.” A few more exchanges between him and the voice in the headset, and then he’s setting the jet on autopilot and taking the headset off. He turns to face you, flashing you a crooked grin. “I thought I told you to wait.”

You try to reciprocate, you really do, but the past few hours as catching up with you. You lower lip starts trembling, and you slump against Piotr, crying quietly.

He wraps his arms around you and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Come on, dorogaya moya. Let’s get you checked out.” He carries you back into the main bay of the jet and --with a gentleness that completely belies his sheer size--deposits you on one of the seats. “How did they capture you?”

You lift your hand to the back of the head, wincing as your fingers brush against a small lump. “They hit me. Knocked me out.”

Piotr’s lips are set into a tense line as he pulls a flashlight out of his suit pocket. “Look at my nose, myshka.”

You stare straight ahead as he checks your pupil response to the light. “Piotr... I’m really sorry for being such an ass at the mansion.”

He chuckles. “It is alright, dorogoy. I need you to follow light with your eyes now.”

“And...” You add quietly as you track his light with your eyes. “...I’m sorry I compared you to my parents. That was... royally unfair of me.”

“It is okay, Y/N. I forgive you.” He clicks off the light and turns his attention to the nice, ugly bruise forming on your left forearm. “How did you get this?”

“I knocked myself over trying to escape.”

Piotr chuckles as he carefully prods the bruise. “That’s my girl. My fierce myshka.”

“Getting herself bruised,” you mutter with a wince. “That sounds about right.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Well, it’s a bruise and you’re poking it. What do you think?”

“I am trying to ascertain if it is broken.”

You shake your head. “I’ve broken my arm before. It just feels like a bruise.”

He stops prodding at your forearm in favor of encapsulating your hands with his massive ones. “Did anything else happen? Anything you can remember?”

“No, I was out for most of it.”

“What happened when you came to?”

“I tried to use my powers to throw them across the room.”

Piotr snorts --actually snorts. “I suppose, for them, it was good thing they had collar. You would have kicked their asses otherwise.”

“Good for them, pain in the ass for me,” you mumble, annoyed. “He pointed out the collar, so I tried to yank my arms free.”

“I figured. You have rope burns on your wrists.”

You have to stop to force down the bile creeping up your throat before you can go on. “He said I was feisty. Said it was hot.”

Piotr’s hands tighten around yours. “Anything else?”

You start shaking again. “He said that he had to take me back home... but that he didn’t have to rush. He... asked for some paralytics... said he was going to make me scream.”

Piotr’s jaw clenches, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly.

You giggle hysterically against his chest. “You came in the nick of time. He’d just sent the guy up for the paralytics when you crashed in.”

“Bozhe moi, I am grateful. I am grateful I found you when I did.”

“Me too.”

He presses his forehead against yours, taking deep, shaky breaths. “Was there anything else that happened, lyublyu?”

You frown. “Yeah. He touched my cheek and licked my ear.” You rub your cheek, then your ear. “God, that was gross.”

Piotr is quiet for a moment. Then, he lifts his hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your soft, supple skin. “Like this?”

You lean into his touch, smiling weakly. “Yeah. Yours is better, though.”

“I would hope so.” He’s quiet for another moment, then leans forward.

A shiver runs down your spine as he presses a soft kiss against your ear. “Piotr,” you sigh.

He presses the side of his face against the side of yours. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

And, oddly enough, it is. It was as though Piotr’s touch erased the traces of the bounty hunter’s harassment. Sure, you could remember it happening, but you couldn’t quite remember how it felt. All you could feel was Piotr’s loving, tender touches and the affection he so willingly lavished upon you.

You turn your head towards him and press your lips against his.

He kisses you back for a moment the way he always does --with a tenderness that never fails to make you weak in the knees--and then pulls back. “I must apologize for my behavior earlier. I was too controlling. You are an adult, and I need to respect that.”

“Eh, I think I need to talk to Xavier about that one more than I do you.”

“Still, I am sorry--”

“I forgive you, Piotr. Stop beating yourself up.”

He ducks his head, smiling sheepishly. “Khorosho. I also want to apologize for not defending you in front of Scott. He was out of line.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad to be with you right now.”

“As am I, myshka. As am I.”

After one of the resident medics gives you a thorough check over and a blood test to ensure you hadn’t been injected with anything while you were knocked out --at Piotr’s worried insistence, and you were too worn out to put up too much of a fight--you're given a clean bill of health and instructions to rest for a few days.

Piotr escorts you to the living space side of the mansion, his hand a warm and soothing presence on your shoulder.

The two of you are met by Professor Xavier and one very pissed off looking Scott Summers.

“It’s about time,” Scott snaps. “We have jobs to do, you know. We can’t just waste our time keeping up with your outbursts.”

You roll your eyes. “Geez, Scott, who rusted the pole up your ass?”

Before he can retort, Piotr steps in between the two of you. “Enough,” he says, voice deep and hard. “She has had long day. She needs rest.”

“Yes,” Professor Xavier agrees. “We’re glad to see you back safely, Y/N. Rest for now. We can resume our discussion when you feel more recovered.”

You nod and let Piotr escort you to your room.

“The medic cleared you for concussion, so you can sleep on your own tonight.”

You bite back a frown. You would rather stay with him --in general, yes, but especially tonight, given the circumstances. Dammit. Why couldn’t I have a concussion? “Okay.”

Piotr cups your face in his massive hands. “If you need anything, come wake me up. Time does not matter, okay?”

You nod, then roll up onto your toes to kiss him. When he tries to break away once, you grab onto his shirt and cling to him.

He humors you for a few moments longer before disentangling your hands from the material of his shirt. He kisses both of your hands. “Sleep well, myshka.”

You manage a smile for him, but it dissipates as soon as he turns away.

You’re not sure sleep will come easy tonight.

You’re not sure it’ll come at all.

The needle glints in the glaring overhead lights of the basement, sinister and clinical.

You wrench at your restraints, but you’re stuck, frozen in place.

The man in the hoodie holds you still while the man from the alley stabs the needle into your arm, slowly injecting you with its malevolent contents.

You try to fight, try to free yourself, but you can feel yourself quickly becoming sluggish. Your limbs are heavy, stiff from the dose of the paralytic.

You can only watch, frozen, as they cut your ropes away. Tears trickle down your cheeks, but you can’t so much as flick a finger.

You’re helpless. Completely at their mercy.

You’re laid out on the dirty stone floor without any decency or preamble.

The man from the alley laughs as he cuts your pants away from you, laughing at your tears and the sight of your shame. He leans towards you, close enough that you can smell the beer he drank while waiting for the paralytic. “You’re going to love this, doll.”

You stare at the ceiling, crying as you try to will your useless limbs to move --to fight.

You jerk upright, breathing hard.

You’re in your room, lonely and terrified in your bed. The darkness around you feels oppressive, like it’s choking you.

You try to calm yourself, to still the tremors in your hands. You use your powers to draw more air into your lungs, to try and quiet your nerves.

You can still smell the beer on his breath...

You can still feel your limbs going numb...

You bolt out of your bed and fling open the door --screw anyone who complains about the noise. You dart down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of Piotr’s bedroom door. You rap your knuckles at the door, trying to stay upright while your knees knock together. “Piotr! Piotr!”

A light flicks on his room, the glow creeping out from around the edges of the door. There’s the thud of footsteps --too light for him to be in defense mode--and the door swings open to reveal Piotr’s confused, sleepy face. “Zdravstvuyte? Hello?” You must look worse than you thought, because the exhaustion drains from his face in seconds. “Myshka, what is it?”

“I had a nightmare,” you whimper.

Piotr ushers you into his room, closes the door behind him, and kneels in front of you. “It’s okay. You’re safe. They can’t reach you here.”

You sniff and slump against him. “I dreamed that you didn’t get there in time, and that they injected me with the paralytics, and--”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest. “Sh, lyublyu, it’s alright. You’re safe, I’m here.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your arm. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

You hadn’t asked earlier to avoid making him feel awkward. Piotr was such a stickler for rules and ‘appropriate behavior,’ and you had no doubts that he would consider sleeping in the same bed --especially since your relationship was still fairly young--to be inappropriate, to say the least.

However, he doesn’t so much as hesitate when you ask. He simply presses a kiss to the top of your head and whispers, “Of course, dorogoy. All you had to do was ask.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and let him carry you to --and set you on--the bed.

There’s bit of shuffling as Piotr finds a pillow for you, and then he shuts his bedside lamp off and lays down next to you.

You wiggle across the bed until you’re pressed up against him.

Rather than mind the invasion of his space, he simply winds his arms around you, holding you against his large, muscular body. “I would’ve have offered earlier, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweetness. “Well, I would’ve asked earlier, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Politeness gets you nowhere.”

He huffs out a soft laugh and runs his fingers through your hair. “You don’t mean that.”

No. You really don’t.

Rather than admit defeat, you opt to trace your fingers over his chest. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt, exposing his collarbone and the tops of his pecs. His skin is warm and soft under your fingertips.

Something in the back of your mind registers satisfaction at the shuddering gasp you pull out of him when your fingers graze over his collarbone, but you’re too tired to let the thought manifest past that.

By all means, it’s really soothing. Piotr’s fingers playing with your hair, his comforting embrace and warmth, the way his skin feels under your fingers. It’s almost enough to lull you into sleep, save for one nagging thought--

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. Piotr’s face is near indiscernible in the dark, but you can make out the shadowy outline of his features and the soft glint of his eyes. “What happens if I have another nightmare?”

“I will wake you up and comfort you.”

That --the promise that you won’t be left to suffer alone--is enough to finish calming you down. You close your eyes, lay your head on his chest, and let yourself fall back asleep.

You wake up --but not in the place you fell asleep in.

You’re in your room --not the one at Xavier’s, but in your old room, back in the middle of nowhere.

You bolt out of bed and race to the door. You yank and pull on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.

You try the windows next. You rip the curtains away, only to find that you’ve been sealed in. The windows are boarded over; not even a trace sunlight peeks into your room --your cell.

You pound your fists against the walls, desperate to find a way out. “Help me! Please, help me!”

A bright light floods the room, seemingly from nowhere. Someone grabs your shoulders--

“Y/N!”

You jolt awake, mid-scream.

Piotr is holding you by your shoulders, expression pinched.

Oh. That’s right. You’re in Piotr’s room. Not at home.

The relief hits you like a brick to the chest, and you start crying.

“Oh, myshka, what happened?”

“I dreamed was back home, trapped in my room.”

His arms slid underneath you and lift you off the bed. “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.”

You draw in shaky, uneven breaths as you press your forehead against his shoulder. “I know. I’m just happy that I’m here, instead of stuck back there.”

“So am I, lyublyu. So am I.”

You sit at one of the many window seats, staring out at the cool, rainy day. Normally, a view like this --gray skies and damp grass--would leave you in a foul mood. Today, however, you were simply grateful to be seeing it.

It was horrifying to think that if Piotr hadn’t started looking for you, or if you had left your phone at the mansion, or if the bounty hunters had turned it off, or --a thousand other things, who knows. Point stands, you would be on your way back to your parents, never to see Piotr or the other X-Men again.

Or, maybe you wouldn’t have been underway to see your parents by now. Maybe the bounty hunters would’ve kept you in the basement, torturing you however they pleased.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear Piotr sneak up behind you. You shriek as he lifts you off the seat and spins you in a circle.

“ Zdravstvuyte, myshka.”

You can’t help but smile at him as he settles you into his arms, bridal style. He’s in defense mode, which makes things a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind. “Hey, yourself. I didn’t heart you coming.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I was lost in thought.”

“Good thoughts, I hope?”

Your smile fades. “Not really, no. I was just thinking... what would’ve happened if I hadn’t had my phone on me...”

Piotr’s grip on you tightens. “Easy, dorogoy. There isn’t much to be gained by those thoughts.”

“I know. It’s just kind of horrifying.”

He kisses you gently, then carefully sets you on your feet. “You need distraction. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No.” You intertwine your fingers with his --a near impossible task when he’s in defense mode, but you manage. “But, I can think of a couple other things if you really want to distract me.”

He ducks his head and chuckles. “Perhaps another time, myshka. Skipping meals is not healthy.”

You smile and let him lead you out of the library and in the direction of the kitchen. “Of course. Heaven forbid we mess up our meals.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #x-men fanfiction #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #self insert #welcome to my new hyperfixation #enjoy the stay #i certainly have been #colossus is the biggest marshmallow and no one can convince me otherwise #oops it got long #like 7k words long

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beautifulweird0 · 4 years

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Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you. My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’. Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me. I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me… “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” . Think about it... Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms. I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period. I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!). Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby. It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically). So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right? Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse? Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚). But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.Don’t get it confused, my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess. The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them. My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything. However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess. My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart. Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand. He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness. I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love? I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

~Monet’

#parent #forgiveness #blackwomen #blackmen #trauma #love #hate #lessons #blackfamily #alcohol #blog #generationalcurses

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shikkearu · 6 years

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Irreplaceable Part 14: Dull and dry

Wattpad AO3

- "How can two bad apples create someone so gentle and caring?"

Perona chuckled as she set up for a punch line. Hancock looked at her offended and Mihawk just shrugged.

- "Two negatives cancel each other out."

She laughed, Mihawk seemed amused and Hancock even chuckled a little. Her husband, Dragon, smiled seeing her loosen up a bit. They were visiting with Ace. December had started and they would be abroad for the rest of the year. Ace had insisted they visit so he could give Zoro his gift in person. It had been a stuffed tiger and Zoro had been extremely excited. He didn't quite know how to express his thanks to Ace, for he was too small, but Ace understood.

- "He's an idiot." He had said as he hugged Zoro.

The adults had talked while on looking their play, when the talk had trailed off towards her late husband. Perona found it funny how her husband had been so different from his parents. Hancock wasn't the most caring person, but she was out-going. And Mihawk was a lawyer which made him evil by default. Somehow they had given birth to the most perfect human she could imagine.

When Hancock, Dragon and Ace had left, Mihawk had looked weird. So Perona asked if something was bothering him.

- "He wasn't perfect. But he thought a lot about how other people felt around him. And made an effort to please others. He doubted himself a lot and was scared people might abandon him. It was painful at times to follow, how he tried hiding all his insecurities and flaws just so people would like him.." - "I know that." - "I don't know if you knew, but he had doubts about you too. He struggled constantly with the concept of you being a mother. Even after Zoro had been born, he was hesitant and needed me to confirm that you were in fact a good mother."

Perona had known he had issues with his mother and he had told her about his hesitation, but she thought they had solved all of them before Zoros birth.

----

- "She's amazing and yet I'm afraid. Afraid she is doing this just for me not because she wants to, but because I asked her to. I'm scared she'll leave like... mother." His voice was a mix of bitterness and regret.

- "Have you spoken to her of these fears?" Mihawk felt responsible that his son's image of motherhood and mothers had become so distorted.

- "Yes, and she insists she wants this too and I know she speaks the truth, but still there's a voice in the back of my head telling she'll leave as well." He sounded miserable. Mihawk wanted to talk in person, but again he was on a business trip. He wanted to be more with him, but also didn't want to intrude. He had the right to live his own life.

- "Your situation is completely different. You've had the time to live together and get to know each other... I wish I could get rid of these feelings for you."

- "It's alright, father. Just talking helps."

They ended the call soon after and Mihawk sighed. He knew that his son was going to call him again about this same issue.

----

Mihawk refrained from using the door bell, instead he send his son a text. Soon he was let inside by him. The fresh father quickly snuck back to the bedroom. Tough they had tried to avoid it, the door had woken up the child. He followed him to get a peek of the little one, not wanting to bother the child or the mother, but his son was carrying the baby to the living room.

- "Hush now. Daddy will do something about that loud door, don't you worry." He smiled a beaming smile at his father. "Here is Zoro, my little boy wonder."

He passed the baby onto Mihawk who gently smiled at the tiny little thing. He took great care to remember every detail. The tiny button nose, the little fingers, tufts of green hair, how the skin felt like the finest velvet. He was enamored by the small being, just like he had been years earlier holding his own little boy.

- "Sit down." His son seemed to overflow with pride. "You're not in rush, right?"

He wasn't. Son went to prepare something in the kitchen. Probably some formula for Zoro. Foot steps and a soft yawn, his small wife had arrived in the room.

- "I knew there were guests here. Good morning mr. Dracule"

Mihawk nodded back at her. She was barely wearing anything just a large dress shirt. She yawned again and went to kiss her husband a good morning.

- "Why are you doing that nasty stuff? You know Zoro hates it." - "I just thought you might want to sleep a bit longer." - "It's alright. I'll go feed him now."

She walked to Mihawk and stretched out her arms. He gently handed Zoro back to her. She was going to walk back into the bedroom when her husband stopped her.

- "Where are you going? You can do it right here, I'm sure father wont mind." - "Ah, well..."Perona looked uncomfortable. - "Really now. Don't be shy."

She looked flustered and didn't move. She looked down and then at Mihawk for help.

- "It's alright. You can go." Mihawk could see how uncomfortable she was and let her leave.

She sighed in relief and disappeared into the bedroom. His son sat next to him with two cups of coffee.

- "I really wanted you to see what a good mother she is," his voice was silent and sad. - "It's an intimate moment between a mother and a child. Some people are comfortable doing it in front of others and some need peace to do it. It would be wrong to force her. Were not exactly friends." - "You just don't know each other. Really she could have-" - "Son you don't need to prove me anything. She seems like a fine mother to me. Just stay open with her and it should be fine." - "Are you sure?" - "Yes, I know it's scary being a parent. Now that you are one, maybe you understand your own mother a bit better now."

His son looked at him silently. There was remorse, anger and most of all sadness in his eyes.

- "I should apologize to Perona. For doubting her all the time."

Mihawk smiled and petted his sons head. Even if he was a father now, he would still remain his little boy.

----

- "Of course we were both disappointed at ourselves. Zoro was a little bit early and my body wouldn't do it's job. People and media always praise breast feeding and how natural and powerful it is. No one warned us of how hard it could be. I felt like I had failed at the first steps. He dealt with it by joking all the time. We were terrified. Zoro was so small and fragile. I just wish he could have been more open with me. I had the same fears as he did."

She took a small breather. It hurt to talk about this. It felt like a taboo.

- "We were just two kids from broken families. All we wanted was ours to be normal. Look how that turned out." She laughed bitter.

- "I'm sorry." Mihawk sounded miserable. Like it had been his fault.

She started to feel angry. There wasn't a single thing he could have prevented. He couldn't have prevented Hancock from getting a depression. It wasn't his fault that it went unnoticed for so long. Back then talking about mental problems was considered a taboo. It wasn't his fault that he continued living when his son didn't need him as much anymore. It wasn't his fault she and Zoro had problems with feeding. It wasn't his fault her husband didn't fully trust her. It wasn't his fault that there wasn't a crossing at the right spot or that his son chose to jaywalk.

- "Not everything is your fault." - "I know."

But Perona knew that he didn't. He seemed to love suffering.

- "You're annoying." - "What?" - "Super annoying. Life is not a sentence you have to suffer through. You live it and try to be as happy as possible."

Mihawk looked at her. He was visibly upset. He rose up and left the room without a word. She was upset too. She was angry at how stubborn he could be. But soon he returned to the room. He still looked angry.

- "There's this office Christmas-party next Friday. Everyone expects me to show up, but I couldn't be bothered less. There's these annoying women always trying their luck with me and it's quite bothersome. And everyone there is bone dry and dull." - "What does this have to do with anything?" - "Go there with me. If you're there it will be completely different. And if were not having a good time there let's slip and do something else. A game hall, anything!"

Mihawks eyes seemed to sparkle and Perona looked at him dumbfounded. His conviction seemed to falter a little before her silence, but he continued.

- "Show me how to be happy." She was still silent. - "You and Zoro have been the only people in the longest while who have made me feel that happiness is something I can have. And we do not need Zoro to have a good time. You're almost like a daughter to me." - "Pappa?" Zoro looked at him from the ground. Hearing his name be said so loudly made him think he was being called, so he stopped playing with the tiger. - "Ah, it's nothing Zoro. Pappa is trying to convince Mommy. What do you say, Perona?" - "Pappa?" Zoro was grabbing onto his leg and standing up. He didn't understand what was going on. Pappa was acting so weird. - "Pappa was not calling you. Please continue your play." His conviction was now in shambles. He couldn't go on.

Perona started laughing. Mihawk felt like he had made a fool of himself and facepalmed.

- "Alright, I'll go with you. Let's show those boring oldies what fun is."

She went to hug Mihawk who tried pushing her away. - "Won't you give your daughter a hug old fool?" - "No." He was embarrassed. He wanted to disappear. - "This is part of living stupid. Loving your family."

Mihawk stilled and let her hug him. He slightly petted her head.

- "I can be a daughter to you, but you're not my father, ok? That place is reserved for Moria only." Suddenly her eyes sparked up. "By the way, where are we going to spend Christmas and New Year? Can we go to him? There's not a lot of lights so if we get fireworks they'll show up nicely." - "Fine." He was going to get a bed for Zoro as a present to Moria. No excuses.

She smiled and knelt down to Zoro who was all mixed up.

- "Don't worry about Pappa or Mommy. Were starting to move on and be happy."

Zoro didn't get it, but he smiled happily back at her. The people around him were weird, but they were his people.

----

- "You know father, we're running late."

Mihawk knew that. He had taken his sweet time getting ready and had driven extra slow, because he hated family dinners like these. You have to act to a bunch of strangers that you are interested in them and after it you'll hardly ever see them again. He did that enough at work. But his son had insisted. That it meant a great deal for him and his girlfriend. Girlfriend he seemed to adore above anything. So Mihawk had bent. What harm could it do? As long as he wasn't going to be doing this with every girl he could do it. And from the sounds of it this might be the only one for his son. Obsessive passionate love, that he had gotten from his mother.

They parked and started walking towards the restaurant. The headwaiter told them that part of their entourage had already arrived. His son took his coat and hat to take them to the coat rack while he had the joy of walking to the table by himself. It was easy to know which one was theirs. A very tall man was sitting in it wearing gothic fashion. Next to him a small girl with two pink ponytails. It was just two people which made Mihawk relieved, even though their attire seemed to draw attention. He was going to introduce himself, but didn't quite get to the table. He was stunned by the girl. She had stood up and was approaching her step so light she nearly floated. She was wearing a red dress with white shirt. It had frills and was modest, but still in that gothic lolita fashion his son had warned him about. She had white stockings and red shoes that shone. But what had truly captivated Mihawk was her smile. A smile that could only be described as pure love. And he was slightly jealous, because the smile wasn't meant for him, but to his son now standing next to him.

- "Hey father close your mouth. If you get into the game I won't stand a chance."

His son had quietly chuckled before being embraced by the girl. Mihawk wondered if he could have ever stood a chance, because the love in that girls face didn't seem like the type he could ever receive from anyone. But most of all he was happy that his son had found someone who loved him so much. His joy had been indescribable when they had announced their engagement.

----

- "I remember that dress."

Mihawk muttered when he saw her. Perona looked at him amused. It was her most delicate dress meant to impress people with how modest and elegant she was. And by Mihawks reaction she knew that it still worked. He had just returned from taking Zoro to Moria. Moria of course had been in seventh heaven when he had told him they would be spending Christmas and new year there. Zoro too had been happy to see his darling "Buu" again. They had painstakingly taught him to call Moria "Buu" instead of "Poopoo". And Moria loved being called that and wasn't angry anymore to loose his self-chosen title as Pappa, since Buu was more unique.

Mihawk was wearing simple black suit with intricately detailed red vest under it, and she was slightly sorry that no-one would get to see it. She took him by the arm and grinned at their reflection in the mirror. They looked nice and condescending together.

- "I still need to put my top coat on." Mihawk said as he shook her off. - "I thought cold doesn't bother you?" She sneered while putting on her own coat.

This December had been unusually cold. She felt it fitting since her husband was dead. The cold would get people to huddle together and appreciate each-other.

- "I'm not going to let my pride get the better of me. Besides we might have to be outside for long periods of time, since I'm not going to take the car."

She frowned at him. Not taking the car meant that Mihawk was planning to drink and after what he had told her, his drinking had started to bother her even if he didn't drink so often anymore.

He saw her frown and defended himself:

- "It's only one or two glasses of wine. That is not enough to get me drunk senseless. You can drink too if you want." - "It's not the getting drunk part that worries me." - "This is not up to debate. If Shanks can deal with me drinking in moderation then so can you. Now, are we going or what?"

His voice and face were stern and she knew that he meant every word. She needed to be more careful with the topic in the future. Maybe try talk to Shanks about it. She shook the thought out of her head. It had to be with Mihawk. Going behind his back and she might loose his trust.

She sighed resigned and put on her delicate winter boots.

- "So we going by buss then? Get that fresh winter air?" - "God, no. Maybe after the party."

When they were in the taxi, Mihawk looked out of the window. It wasn't a rare treat for him, but he couldn't quite face Perona.

- "Sorry." His voice was shaky and hesitant. "It's unfair of me to expect the same from you as from Shanks. We grew up together so he knows things you don't." - "I understand. There are things that are hurtful so you can talk at your own pace. There are things I'm not comfortable talking with you too." Small pause and she added. "Yet."

He turned to her. - "I really do want to have a good time." - "So let's try to not dwell on the past even for one night." She punched his shoulder and grinned.

It was good to sometimes not think about anything and just have fun.

----

When Mihawk had said it would be dull and dry, he had meant it. People were dressed up in suits and black cocktail dresses. Few brave ones, like Perona, had some colour on them, but they got disapproving glances from the other guests. They were drinking champagne and other fine drinks. The music was classical and forgettable. If you didn't know these people you would have a horrible time. Mihawk helped off her jacket and took it with his to the coat rack. Though the clerk tried to convince him to give the hat too, he declined.

- "I like to keep it on since it drives some people crazy with disapproval." He said to her quietly. - "I guess there's hope for you yet." She chuckled.

They nearly got to the hall when Mihawk made her stop.

- "A mistletoe. Hope you're good at acting." - "Wha-"

Before she could finish he had taken his hat as cover and taken hold of the back of her neck not to have her move away. He was so near she had to squint her eyes shut. Their noses would have touched had he not positioned himself a bit sideways towards her. Small moment and he let her go. He wiped his mouth at the back of his hand and put his hat back on. She glared at him angrily with a deep blush on her face. But then she felt like a thousand of icy spikes hit her back and she turned slightly to see a group of women shooting daggers her way.

- "I think that was enough to make them let me be." Mihawk chuckled. Perona took him by the arm and as they walked off like an elegant couple she snarled at him. - "Never do that again," her voice was vicious, but the face was angelic. - "You're getting the hang of this rather quick." He had a sly smile. - "I will not follow your evil footsteps." She squeezed her nails into his arm.

And Mihawk laughed.

But the party was still dull. And she was getting bored. They were talking to a bunch of his bosses, scary men with even scarier titles. Especially the man called Akainu was extremely scary and angry looking. He berated Mihawk for wearing a hat, but he seemed mostly amused by it. This was probably who he was talking of earlier.

Perona sighed a little and excused herself. She went to the rest room. She didn't quite understand what part of his job Mihawk enjoyed so much that he would go on trips and endless meetings. But when she came to think about, he hadn't been so involved with his work this fall and he wasn't giving any hints that he would start longer days again. Even his work phone rang less often. He seemed to be more interested in being at home. And what she had looked this night he had only one glass of wine half empty just to keep in his hand.

It made her happy. She was so happy to think that Mihawk enjoyed her and Zoros company. It made even less sense now that they would move away. They needed him and he needed them. Everyone was benefiting. And she didn't feel as lonely, because she knew that he understood the hurt she was going through. The holidays, Zoros little achievements, time passing and the fear of forgetting. She didn't want to think what it would have been like without him.

She glanced at the mirror to see a woman looking at her amused. Perona turned and wiped her eyes a bit. - "I know these parties are absolutely dreadful. Did someone say something awful?" - "Nothing of the sort I'm just tired." Perona corrected her pose and stood proud. The woman smiled and laughed. - "You don't need to pretend. I can see that this is your first time to a party like this." - "Is it so obvious?" - "Yes. I'm Nico Robin, lawyer for the Baroque Works." - "Roronoa Perona, just Dracule Mihawks escort." - "Oh, I didn't think he'd actually ever get into a relationship again." - "No no no! We're just family." - "Hooh? What an odd thing to say." She snickered and Perona felt embarrassed. "Say, you don't mind me having a go then?" - "Of course I do!" She stammered a little. "Because he doesn't -uh- want to."

Robin just laughed. It was clear she wasn't convinced and who would be after that show under the mistletoe.

- "Hey, this might be a bit surprising, but you seem like the type of person who would enjoy a pug. It's a lovely breed and my employers dog just happens to be pregnant. Here's my card, call if you're interested. Have a goodnight." - "You too." Perona stuttered and held the card.

She was flustered. Mihawk worked with such strange people.

She returned to him to see his glass replaced with a full one. She felt slightly disappointed, but concealed it. Instead she got herself a glass of champagne and drank it rather quick getting his attention. She took hold of his arm and acted extremely tired. He leaned a bit for her to whisper in his ear that she's seen enough of the party. He then promptly excused them, Perona faking excessive fatigue. And when they were far enough from the party both of them burst into laughter. Both talked of how fake and business oriented it had been.

----

It was still rather early and they were at the heart of the city, so they decided it might be fun to checkout the local shopping center. It was crowded there. Christmas was the busiest season and it being Friday night didn't help. Perona grabbed Mihawks arm. He tried to shake her off, but her hold was firm.

- "What is it?" - "I don't want to loose you. You're harder to find in crowded areas than Moria." - "You're not a small child. If we get separated just call my phone. It's that simple." - "Let me hold your arm. It's comfy." She pressed her cheek against it.

Mihawk shook it a bit harder and she had to let go.

- "Killjoy."

He just glared at her in reply.

They looked around stalls and shops. Perona found an adorable winter outfit for Zoro and one of those Care-Kumas. Mihawk looked at it long.

- "Why did you choose the weirdest one? It looks like a priest." - "I like it." - "I think Zoro would appreciate this striped one more." He held one with a patchwork pattern and a lovely smile. - "It's the main character so he already has one." - "Ah, you're right. How about this one?" He held one pink with heart eyes and a wedding dress. - "You can buy it too, but I'm definitely getting this one." - "I'm pretty sure Zoro gets a bit scared every time he's on screen." - "Nonsense."

They got him both in the end.

They were going to eat something when Perona remembered seeing something of interest earlier. A booth where they sold fan stuff for a certain historical drama about twelve master swords and a couple going around the country collecting them. She left Mihawk to wait by the restaurant since she might get a gift for him there. She found it and uncertain she tried to describe Mihawks favorite character. Luckily the owner knew which she meant and showed what he got. There was a scarf with a stylish triangular pattern that was distinct for the character. But when she was going to return to Mihawk, she was grabbed and pinned against a wall.

- "Hello again." Trafalgar Law grinned. Perona was going to shout, but he silenced her quickly. - "Look I'm sorry I've been shitty. I was drunk the last time. I really need to talk to you. Will you listen?" She nodded, but looked at him angry. He gave her a bit space and she slapped him. - "Act like normal people! If you can't hold your liquor then don't drink." He held his cheek and glared at her. - "You deserved it." She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms. - "Guess I did." He sighed. "It's really been rough without him. I miss him a lot."

Perona didn't reply, but her glare softened. - "I just need someone who knew him to talk to. We don't need to meet face to face."

Law looked miserable and Perona felt pity for him.

- "I'll think about it."

Once again he gave her his contact information and left. Perona squeezed the package with the scarf while breathing deeply. Maybe she shouldn't have promised him that, Law scared her a lot. She shook her head and hurried back to Mihawk who didn't seem worried at all. More than anything he was annoyed having to wait so long.

----

They were walking back home. The buss didn't drive all the way home, but it didn't really bother them. She was walking on a brick wall that had started low, but was picking up height as they walked.

- "So was I able to show you a good time?" Perona sneered. - "I believe so." His smile felt different, but she couldn't quite point out why. - "One lady said her boss has pug puppies coming up. Have you ever considered a dog?" - "Never. Son was begging one when he was young, but I wouldn't have been able to take care of it." He looked a bit dismayed. "I hope you didn't promise anything because we're not getting one." - "Aww." She chuckled. "Would have named it mini-Mihi."

They walked forward a bit, but Perona stopped when she realized the wall was too high to jump straight down.

- "Scary." Mihawk put the bags aside and opened his arms for her. - "I'll catch you." - "Really?" - "Yes. You're light as feather so it's ok."

She let out a couple of shaky horos, but she trusted him, so she nodded. He counted to three and then she dropped down. He caught her and took a few steps not to tumble. They both laughed, but when she backed away, she looked miserably at Mihawk.

- "When we talk about my and Zoros future, you always bring up moving out." - "That is one possibility. I want you to choose what's best for you two."

He looked at her weirdly. Where had this come from? Did she have to right now? After such a fun night, she would want to part ways? He didn't want that, but he wanted her to be happy.

- "Can one possibility be that we stay? Indefinitely. Forever if needed."

Yes! He wanted to shout it out loud, but refrained from doing so. He shouldn't be selfish. He thought for a moment what he should say. She was starting to take his silence as a no.

- "It's good for Zoro to have two adults in the same household. And we've gotten so happy. If it's about money I'll get a job. Anything just please..."

She was starting to panic. He must surely hate her now, but she stopped when she saw him gently smile. It was calming.

- "I want you to start studying again. You've lamented about not having the stomach to continue being a nurse anymore and I think you're smart and talented. There's a lot of schools to choose from in here so it wouldn't be impossible for you two to continue living with me. I want to support you if you let me."

She hugged him tightly burying her face against his chest. She sobbed and whimpered what he had wanted to say.

- "Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you."

He felt a lump in his throat and answered her embrace holding her tightly. He kissed the top of her head and whispered something in a foreign language she didn't understand and couldn't quite hear.

- "Tack för din kärlek. Jag förtjänar den inte."

Whatever he had said, it must have been something sweet and caring. She hugged him a bit tighter before letting go. She took his hand and cheerfully said:

- "Let's go home."

#MihawkxPerona #mihopero #dracule mihawk #perona #one piece #ミホペロ #Irreplaceable #fanfic

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