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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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Falling For the Devil [Part forty-four: "The Christmas Eve Party"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt joins you for your family's Christmas Eve Party.

You're warmed by the sight of how well Matt fits into your family-–especially with your siblings and nephew.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: Some holiday fluff with Matt and Reader! You can find all of the installments for this series on tumblr here. Enjoy!

A chorus of high pitched, excited squeals erupted from across the room, the noise so loud it masked the sound of conversation and Christmas music that had been present only moments ago. Beside you, Matt winced.

"It's Santa!" one of your cousin's little girls exclaimed, pressing her face to the window.

You leaned over towards Matt, wrapping an arm around his back. "The shrieking will stop soon," you whispered. "Sorry. They get really excited every year when my Uncle Jeff is out front pretending to be Santa."

Another round of excited noises erupted–laughter and giggling from the handful of young girls at the window. Even Hudson, still dressed as a dinosaur, was excitedly watching your uncle outside in the foot of snow.

"It's okay," Matt whispered back. "It's sweet, I just wasn't expecting such a…high frequency."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Yes, well, that sort of comes with having a house filled with young, excited girls. Poor Hudson is outnumbered, though I think he's too young to care yet."

"He will care when he's older," your brother Nate said, appearing on the other side of Matt. "I know I wished I'd had a brother growing up. Being the middle child with two sisters sucked."

You leaned past Matt, raising a brow at him. "Really? Because you and Amber tormented me," you pointed out.

Nate laughed, nodding his head. One of his arms nudged Matt’s as he leaned in towards him. "We definitely did. You know, there was this one time," he began, shooting you a teasing smile, "where we convinced her to jump into this pile of leaves we made.”

You rolled your eyes, immediately knowing where this story was going. Matt, intrigued, turned towards your brother as he listened intently.

“She had no idea we’d been slowly digging a hole in the same spot for a week,” Nate continued excitedly, spurred on by the growing smile on Matt’s face. “So eventually Amber and I got it like two feet deep, right? And we raked up a pile of leaves one day to have your girl jump in–”

“Oh, Nate,” your mother said, pausing mid-stride as she overheard the story your brother was telling, “must you tell Matthew about how you tormented your sister as children?”

“Must you continue to break out that sweater for every Christmas Eve?” he countered.

Georgia glanced down at the front of her sweater, eyeing the gold tinsel and pom poms attached to it. In large, glittery print it said ‘On The Nice List’. You’d seen her wear it every Christmas Eve for the past few years. It was quite obnoxious and at least one of you managed to point it out to her every year.

“What’s wrong with my sweater?” she questioned him. “It’s festive.”

“It’s so bright and loud they can see it from the International Space Station,” Nate teased her.

Georgia narrowed her eyes at Nate, but you noticed the upward twitch of her lips. “Well it’s certainly a lot more appropriate than yours. Honestly, Nate, there’s children here.”

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Matt murmured beside you.

You leaned in, whispering, “He's wearing a sweater with Santa on it talking about ho’s.”

Matt nodded knowingly, a smile spreading on his mouth. “Ahh, I understand. Your brother is certainly interesting.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” you agreed quietly.

Georgia rolled her eyes at your brother as she continued on her way, no doubt looking for your father. Nate turned back towards the pair of you, that mischievous glint still in his eyes.

“So, as I was saying,” he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “we convinced her to jump into the pile of leaves. And so she does–” he paused, cracking up, “–and totally falls into the hole.”

“Yeah, and I sprained my ankle,” you shot back, Matt grinning as he silently listened to your sibling banter. “I had to use crutches for a week because of you two!”

Nate cupped a hand over his mouth, leaning towards Matt. “Don’t feel sorry for her. She threw our toothbrushes in the toilet,” he whispered.

Matt laughed, shooting you a smile. “Somehow I find myself wishing I could have experienced growing up with a sibling. Though I’m pretty sure I’d have been the one doing the tormenting,” he said.

“And somehow I believe that,” you teased him.

You felt something wrapping around your shoulders and your head turned, spotting your sister standing beside you with a beer in hand. Her attention was on Matt, a large smile on her face.

“You know,” Amber said, “if you play your cards right Murdock, you might gain a couple of siblings. And then you could join us in tormenting our sweet sister.”

You didn’t miss the warm smile that lit up Matt’s face at your sister’s words. There was an anxious, excited feeling that squirmed in your own stomach at the implication and the fact that her and Nate had so willingly accepted Matt into your tight-knit bond. Between Thanksgiving and their time with Matt this evening, you could see how well they all got along and it filled you with so much joy watching Matt joke back and forth with your siblings.

“I suppose only time will tell, but,” Matt told your sister, a cheeky grin on his mouth, “I’m pretty sure I’d be siding with her in the pranks, not playing them on her.”

You felt your cheeks flush at Matt’s words, Amber shooting you a curious brow. On Matt’s other side, Nate was smiling devilishly.

“That sounds like a challenge, Matt,” Nate teased. “I’m pretty sure we’re the ones you want on your team for pranks, not baby sis here. She’s not creative enough.”

“You mean I’m not as much of a dick,” you corrected, both of your siblings laughing.

“Ahh well, that may be true,” Matt acknowledged, “but I’m pretty sure I’m someone you’d want on your side when it comes to pranks.”

He shot your siblings an absolutely devastatingly handsome smile and you were instantly biting your lip, fighting back a laugh. Because what they didn’t know was that this man was a literal superhero ninja.

Before either could respond, Hudson appeared beside Amber’s side, wrapping his arms around her leg and hugging it. His appearance caught everyone's attention almost immediately.

“Mama, can I play with Uncle Matt?” he asked, his voice small and his eyes wide.

“Huds,” Amber said with a sigh, “we’ve been over this. You can’t keep calling him Uncle Matt, okay?”

“I don’t really mind,” Matt admitted.

You didn’t miss the way Nate’s head tilted curiously to the side at Matt’s admission, or the sly grin that swept across his mouth. Quickly you mouthed ‘shut up’ to him, hoping Matt didn’t quite notice. From beside Amber, Hudson shifted his big, pleading eyes towards Matt. Even blind you were sure Matt could feel the effect of those adorable little puppy eyes.

“Uncle Matt,” he continued, causing Amber to shake her head and roll her eyes, “can I show you my new dinosaurs?”

“Huds, I don’t think Matt wants to look at your dinosaur toys right now,” Amber tried to tell him gently. “Why don’t you show the girls your dinosaurs?”

Hudson pouted, his lower lip pushing out as his gaze dropped to the ground. You were pretty sure the dinosaur costume he was wearing was adding to the effect, and Matt was fortunate not to be able to fully witness the pouting of a three year old dinosaur.

“They said dinosaurs are dumb,” Hudson muttered.

Instantly your eyes narrowed; you were quite protective over Hudson. He was often shy and only opened up to a few people and it took him a while to open up to other kids. And while you loved the other children in your family, you quite easily favored him. And you weren’t a fan of him getting his feelings hurt. But before you could get a word out as you opened your mouth, Matt was already speaking.

“You know,” he began, “I think dinosaurs are pretty cool. My best friend actually has quite a few on his desk at work.”

“Really?” Hudson asked, a smile returning to his face.

“Really,” Matt agreed. “I’m quite jealous of his collection actually.”

“Do you want to see mine?” he asked excitedly. “I got new ones to show you!”

Matt grinned, holding out a hand in Hudson’s direction. “I’d love to see them. Why don’t you show me where they are?” he asked.

The moment Hudson’s little hand grabbed Matt’s, you were pretty sure you died inside. Even Amber was smiling as she watched Hudson drag Matt along in an excited rush. When they disappeared, both of your siblings were shooting you matching knowing looks that caused you to flush.

“I should probably make sure he doesn’t run Matt into anyone,” you mumbled, ducking away from the pair of them.

You weaved your way past family, heading towards where you'd seen Hudson playing earlier in your parents' house. You finally caught up to Matt and Hudson sitting on the floor in the front sitting room. You smiled as you passed your grandmother who was chatting with a couple of your aunts on the couches, and you swore you heard your grandma once again saying something about how charming Matt was as you passed.

As you neared where Hudson and Matt were sitting cross legged on the floor, you saw Hudson dumping dinosaurs out of his dinosaur backpack. And then you overheard what they were saying and immediately came to a stop just behind the pair of them.

“...she looks real pretty tonight,” Hudson was telling Matt.

“I bet she does,” Matt replied, a smile apparent in his voice. “Can you describe her for me, though? Since I can't quite see how she looks tonight?”

Both of their backs were to you, but you knew Matt was aware of you standing there. A blush was creeping up your cheeks, a small smile on your face.

“She’s in a red sweater,” Hudson said, organizing his pile of dinosaurs. “And her hair looks nice. Really shiny. And she put on pretty makeup. And she’s always got a pretty smile.” He leaned in towards Matt, his little dinosaur hood still pulled up over his head as he failed at attempting to whisper, “She’s my favorite aunt.”

There was a charming grin on Matt’s face as he turned, leaning in towards Hudson and whispering intentionally loud enough for you to hear, “She’s my favorite, too.”

You bit your lip, walking around the pair of them and sitting down around the pile of dinosaurs. “And what are you two up to?” you asked, cheeks still red.

“Just discussing dinosaurs,” Matt said innocently, shooting you a charming smile as he held up a stegosaurus.

_________

Your eyes were focused on Matt chatting animatedly with your father across the room, beers in hand. There was a smile plastered on your face as you watched them laughing good-naturedly with each other, clearly cracking jokes. Matt looked like he was genuinely enjoying the conversation and it made your heart swell in your chest at the sight.

"So what exactly is going on with you and him?" Amber asked, following your gaze.

"What do you mean?" you asked, glancing at her beside you.

She sighed audibly, rolling her eyes. "You know damn well what I mean," she shot back. "You've brought him to the family holidays now. Everyone loves him. He's also amazing with the kids, especially Huds." She gestured her beer at your dad and Matt still talking. "Dad loves him. Mom's already married you off in her mind. So," she asked again, "what exactly is going on?"

You shrugged lightly, glancing back at Matt across the room. His dark glasses were focused on you now and you could feel your heart speeding up under his covered gaze. You knew he was listening in to this conversation when he shot you a playful smirk. And that made you nervous.

"He asked me to move in with him," you told her, eyes darting away from Matt.

"Wow," Amber said, her brows shooting up onto her forehead. "And what'd you say? You've never lived with a boyfriend before."

Your eyes dropped down to the wine glass in your hands, swirling the liquid. "I said yes," you told her. "We're taking it slow, though. My lease isn't up for another couple of months so it's more like I'm gradually moving in with him."

Amber shifted beside you, turning to face you more fully. "So it's serious then?" she asked. "I mean it must be if you're moving in together and having him meet the family."

You couldn't quite tell her about his late night activities and how that may or may not affect the idea of marriage and children. So instead you answered, "I think so."

For a long moment your sister was silent, her gaze focusing back on Matt and your father still talking across the room. She brought her beer to her lips, taking a drink before she finally looked back at you.

"You love him," she said.

You nodded, smiling. "Yes," you admitted.

Her attention returned to Matt. “And it’s obvious the man loves you,” Amber continued. “That man may be blind but it’s like he always knows exactly where you are in a room.”

You fought down a laugh, biting your lip. You couldn’t quite tell her that he actually did know where you were in a room, either. “So what’s your big sister opinion?” you asked her, changing the subject.

“I like him,” she answered easily, bringing the beer back up to her lips for another drink. “He’s funny and he’s certainly charming–which I’d already heard plenty about the charming Matthew Murdock before I knew he was dating my little sister.” She shot you a wink and a sly smirk that soon turned into something more genuine a moment later. “But he makes you happy. I’ve never seen you be so…yourself around someone before. He’s sweet and I think he fits in well with us.” She leaned towards you with a grin as she whispered, “And if you don’t lock that down, I’m pretty sure grandma might be chasing after your man.”

A laugh flew out of you, Amber joining in a moment later. Your grandma did seem quite taken with Matt. Though he was fortunate your aunts and uncles were distracting her this evening; she’d only complimented him six times so far tonight. And Matt was still blushing when she did.

When you glanced back over to Matt, you noticed your mother had joined the conversation with the two. You groaned, pushing off the wall you’d been leaning against.

“Mom’s over there now,” you told Amber. “I should probably go rescue Matt before she starts asking if twins run in his genetics.”

“For your sake I hope it doesn’t,” Amber teased.

You rolled your eyes before making your way across the room, skirting around different groups of family gathered together chatting or kids playing. As you neared your parents talking with Matt, overhearing what they were talking about, you were glad you’d shown up when you had.

“Let’s maybe give the man a rest from discussing babies tonight, hmm?” your father was saying to your mother.

“Yeah mom,” you said, a smile on your face as you stood beside Matt, “I think you discussed that topic plenty at Thanksgiving.”

“I was just saying,” Georgia replied, waving a hand at Matt, “that he would have some great genes to pass on.”

You cringed, looping your arm through Matt’s. “And I think we’re going to pass on that topic. Let’s go get you another beer, Matt.”

Your mother rolled her eyes at you as you dragged Matt away. He followed beside you easily as you led him towards the kitchen, but when you were far enough from your parents you felt Matt lean towards you.

“So I hear you’re serious about me,” Matt teased, whispering into your ear.

“And I see you still eavesdrop on conversations,” you teased back. “Which is not really fair, considering I can’t eavesdrop on what you and my dad seemed to be having such a good time talking about.”

Shooting Matt a look beside you, you noticed he was grinning and chuckling lightly. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No I suppose you couldn't," he agreed. "But don't worry, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder gently, "we had a good conversation. I like your dad."

"Well I'm pretty sure everyone likes you," you assured Matt as you continued to lead him to the kitchen.

"And apparently if you don't make a move on me," Matt teased, "your grandma is going to."

You couldn't stop the snort of laughter that came out of you at his joke. Matt shot you a goofy grin at the sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses.

"Keep it up and I might let her," you joked back.

Matt barked out a laugh as you both entered the kitchen, the sound bright and vibrant. You chanced a look at Matt beside you, your heart warming at the sight. He looked happy tonight, genuinely happy, and that filled you with so much happiness yourself that your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock #fftd

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djarrex · 2 years

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A Gayiyla Halloween

Edge of Everywhere AU, but it’s Modern Day Halloween where Rex and Reader are just as obsessed with Star Wars as one would think. Priya, Garran, and Gelisa are a few years older here than when we last saw them. You get one guess what their family Halloween costume theme is :')

rated T - one tiny smidge of innuendo. pregnant reader. otherwise it's all family fluff as they get ready to go trick-or-treating. about 1.4k words.

“You almost ready, Rex?” you shout from the living room, adjusting the robes of your costume in the entryway mirror, running a hand down your pregnant belly. If your husband replies, you’re unable to hear it from where he is at the other side of the house, especially not over the sounds of the children playing in the living room, practicing getting into each of the characters they’re dressed up as.

As Garran is swinging around his plastic green lightsaber in the air while making the whooshing sounds to go with it, Gelisa is skipping around in circles, no doubt feeling even more like a little princess in her white gown. The moment her focus is captured by her twin’s toy is evident, her eyes widening. It isn’t long before she’s asking her older sister to borrow her lightsaber, smiling mischievously when Priya hands it to her, soon lurching after her twin with the accessory.

“Careful, you two. Lissy, it took me an hour to do your hair, please try not to mess it up!”

“Okay, Mama!” The twins call in unison.

Priya sits on the couch and dons the mask to her costume, extending her arm towards her younger siblings and curling her fingers inwards. “Luke! I am your fatherrrrr!”

Clipping your own lightsaber to its loop that’s sewn into your Jedi robes, you shake your head with a smile, passing right through the middle of the action on the way to the bedroom, where your husband has yet to come out.

Knocking on the door gently, you speak to him from the outside. “You need my help with any of the fastenings, Rex?”

“Mama! I see kids out there!” comes Garran’s voice, his face and hands pressed against the window behind the curtain.

“You hear that, my love? We should get going.”

“Eh,” he calls from behind the closed door of the bedroom. “I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

You chuckle. “Well it’s a little late to change the theme, hon. Come out, let’s see it.”

“Let’s go, Daddy!” Priya is now at your side, once again extending her arm and opening her hand, trying to open the door by use of the Force. In her deepest voice, followed by the signature Vader breathing sound effect, she says: “Come out, trooper, or face my wrath!”

“Maybe if we both use the Force, Daddy will come out,” you tell her loud enough so that Rex can hear.

Priya darts back towards her siblings as the door opens, and there stands your husband, covered from head to toe in the stormtrooper costume you ordered for him about a month ago upon deciding on the theme as a family, after introducing the children to the Star Wars movies. Rex and you have always enjoyed Star Wars, and watching all the movies together as your family of five was a very special weekend, one that you won’t soon forget. It did surprise you just how much the story and characters captured the kids’ attention, them being the ones to suggest the Halloween costumes before Halloween was even a thought in your own mind.

He crosses his arms against his armored chest.

“Hey there, trooper,” you tease.

“This,” he gestures with gloved hands to his entire costume, “Is not practical. If this ‘armor’ is what the stormtroopers really wore, it’s no wonder they were so easily disarmed.” He scoffs, wiggling his rear. “Not to mention how uncomfortable it is.”

Rex takes off the helmet, shaking his head as you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a giggle. “Well, I think you look good, Rex.”

“Hm. Yeah?” He smirks and raises his brows, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arm around your lower back, pulling you into him. “How good?”

“Easy there, trooper,” you tease, placing your hand on your belly, his eyes following and lips curling into a wider grin. “That is not the Jedi way. Remember what happened the last time.”

Before he can follow up with some quick-witted sultry remark of his, Garran runs over, his Yoda backpack accessory partially unclasped and dangling off one shoulder.

“Whoa! Daddy, you look so cool!”

Rex laughs, winking at him. “Thanks, buddy.” He shuffles out of the room, shooting you a little look when you snort at the sound of his clunky costume knocking together, handing you his helmet then reaching down to scoop up ‘Luke’ in his arms.

“He’s gonna lose his lightsaber,” you tell Rex, retrieving the accessory from the floor and handing it to him rather than to Garran, who has forgotten about it for the hundredth time this evening so far. “We should just leave it at home.”

Rex gasps playfully, squeezing his son’s sides and eliciting giggles from the toddler. “But he’s Luke Skywalker, love.” He points to your robes. “You of all people know that a Jedi needs their lightsaber.”

You smile, running your thumb across your son’s cheek, soothing a tiny, week-old cut he’d earned from playing a little too rough with his sister. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Luke.” Rex sets him down, adjusting the straps to the backpack and ruffling his hair. He kneels to his level and opens his hands, presenting the lightsaber to Garran. “A lightsaber is sacred to the Jedi. This weapon is your life, and you must protect it.” Garran carefully takes the toy, holding it close to his chest, listening intently. “Can you do that, young Skywalker?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

Rex kisses the top of his head and stands. “Where are the rest of my kids, hm? Come show me what you all look like in a Galaxy Far, Far Away.”

“I’m here!” Gelisa skips over, one of her buns slightly askew now. You sigh, but knew full well that a hairstyle such as Princess Leia’s double buns was not going to stay perfect on Lissy’s head.

“Look at you, little Leia!” Rex beams, chuckling as he notices the one bun.

“Princess Leia,” Gelisa corrects, running her hands down her gown.

“Apologies, Princess.” Rex bows then places a kiss on her head between the buns. Standing upright now, he peers around, searching for his eldest child.

“She’s hiding,” you whisper to him, nodding towards the hallway that leads to the kids’ bedrooms.

Rex takes his stormtrooper helmet back from you and slides it on, getting into character. “TK-7567 reporting for duty, sir,” he calls from under the helmet, his voice slightly modulated. He walks around the living room, peering behind the furniture and pretending to scan the area with the built-in accessories.

Priya pokes her masked head out from the hallway, Rex acting as if he hasn’t yet spotted her.

“I’m looking for Darth Vader,” he sing-songs. “Has anybody seen her around here? The ship will be leaving to go trick-or-treating soon, but we can’t leave without her!”

As Rex searches the house for Priya, you get the twins’ shoes on, then your own. They grab their candy bags and you smile as Garran makes sure his lightsaber is held tightly in his other hand.

“Oh, look at you, my little love!”

You hear Rex’s giddy voice exclaim from the kids’ hallway, followed soon after by Priya’s laughter and loud, in-character breathing paired with lightsaber sound effects.

“Ah!” he calls out. “You got me!”

“I think Darth Vader has been found,” you whisper to the twins. “Are you ready, Luke and Leia?”

“Yes, Mama!”

They start pulling you towards the door, and out from behind the corner comes stormtrooper Rex with Darth Vader’s little hand in his, her shoes already on, red lightsaber and candy bag clutched in her other hand. Letting go of her daddy, her black cape flaps wildly as she makes a beeline to join you and her siblings at the door.

Garran tucks his candy bag and lightsaber under one arm, reaching for his dad with the other. Priya and Gelisa join hands, and with your hand resting on your belly, you beam at your family of five – soon to be your family of six.

“Ready when you are, Master Jedi,” Rex says from under the helmet, undoubtedly sporting a smile just as elated as yours.

I don't remember who follows the EOE uni but here are a few tags:

@rowansparrow @thefact0rygirl @book-of-baba-fett @rexxdjarin @literallydontlook @rain-on-kamino @moonstrider9904 @fett-djarin

#djarrex writes #eoe #edge of everywhere #star wars au #captain rex x reader #the gayiyla family

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bridgyrose · 1 year

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In which Ruby and Weiss are (unknowingly) half-siblings charing the same mystery dad. Well, Ruby's got Tai for a dad but you get what I mean.

Weiss ran her fingers through her hair and sighed when she started to see the black roots starting to show again. “Great, just great.”

“What’s wrong?” Yang asked. “Found another zit?”

“No, just dreading that its time to dye my hair again.” Weiss let her hair down again and started to brush it back into a ponytail to try to hide her roots. “And no, I’m not going to skip out on it because I dont like how I look with black hair. And besides, it reminds mother too much of someone she used to know.”

“I… guess that makes sense.”

Weiss frowned as she dragged her brush through her hair, feeling it start to tangle around the bristles. After fighting with her hair a little longer, she finally managed to pull it back into a loose ponytail to keep it a bit tamed. “There, that’ll do it.”

Yang sighed and started to brush through her own hair. “I dont know why you put so much effort into trying to tame your hair like that. It’d be easier to let it stay loose, right?”

“And get in the way of everything I do? No thank you.” Weiss slowly started to add another couple hair ties to her hair, gently braiding through a few strands to give her ponytail a much neater look, finishing it off with a small raven clip. “Besides, I actually like having my hair long, I’m just not a fan of how… unruly it gets.”

Yang noticed the clip and paused. “Ruby has something like that too.”

Weiss paused and turned slightly to look at the clip in the mirror to make sure it was on straight, then found herself looking out of the bathroom to watch Ruby place a similar clip on her hip. “Mother said it was one of a kind. That an old friend gave it to her as a promise that she’d come back. She never did, apparently running off and jumping out a window and practically disappearing. All mother ever found of her was a feather.”

Yang hesitated for a moment and sat her brush down. “She… ran off, huh?”

“Yeah. But it doesnt matter. Mother gave up on her a long time ago and gave me this clip as a promise that I could forge my own path, but… its just a dumb trinket.”

“Right… I… I think I need to go…”

Weiss tried to reach out to Yang and stopped herself as she watched Ruby once more. She hadnt noticed it before, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what that raven clip meant to Ruby. She slowly walked to Ruby, carefully pulling her own clip off. “Ruby?”

“Yes Weiss?” Ruby asked as she started to straighten out her skirt. She looked up and paused. “What did you say to Yang that made her rush off.”

“I… I’m not actually sure anymore. We were talking about a hair clip I wear and then she sorta got upset.”

“A… hair clip?”

Weiss nodded and moved her hand to show her raven hair clip. “She said you had the same one.”

Ruby stared at the clip and her hand instinctively went to her side to feel her own to make sure it was still there. “Where… where did you get that?”

“My mother. She said a friend had given it to her before she ran off, never to be seen again.”

“And this friend of hers, did she ever describe her?”

“Not really.” Weiss started to put the clip back into her hair and sighed. “Red eyes, messy black hair that looked like feathers from a bird, a mask to hide her face, and a way to disappear without a trace. Though, she swears a raven watches over her some days.”

Ruby smiled a bit. “Sounds a lot like Yang and I.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds crazy, but sometimes we see a raven following us where we go. I know there was one watching us during initiation and when I got mixed up in a dust robbery and Yang… well… she’s been chasing rumors of where her mother has been. She’s been gone for a long time and she swears she saw her around my mom before I was born. But… its a bit silly when you think about it, right?”

“A bit.” Weiss pulled out her scroll and started to run through the numbers she had saved. “I’ll catch up with you for class, okay? I need to run to the library really quick.”

“Are you sure? We were supposed to get breakfast together.”

“I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“You better.”

Weiss walked out of the dorm and finally pressed on a number to call as she walked calmly down the hall. She listened to her scroll ring as she pulled herself into a storage closet, her breath hitching as she heard her mother’s voice.

“Weiss, is everything okay?” Willow asked.

“I’m fine,” Weiss answered. “I… I just have a question that came to mind today.”

“And what’s that?”

“Is… is father really my father?”

#weiss schnee #yang xiao long #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #drabbles #a snowflake a rose and a bird au #a snowflake arose and a bird #rwby

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prettygirleli · 2 months

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JUMP SPIDER- INTRO track one: money trees, kendrick lamar. warnings: cussing. intentional lowercasing. mentions of death.

"you know sum?"

"what?"

"you got such a pretty face, and yet you keep it hidden by a mask."

"that mask is keeping me alive, Alex." Alex huffed and leaned back onto my bed. "it's keeping you alive? ion think so."

i sat up and looked down at him, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "fuck you mean?" he rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone and pulling up a picture of me in action.

"you mean to tell me the mask covering your face and not your giant mass of blonde curls is keeping your identity a secret? okay, Adrien Agreste." i stared at the picture, pouting. i guess he's right. my suit covered my entire body... except for my hair. we couldn't figure out how to get it to fit in a mask.

"you designed the suit, Alex."

"yeah, yeah, shush."

speaking of the suit. it's purple, with green highlights. the mouth area was one of the green parts, and it was retractable for convenience reasons. the rest of the suit was purple, save for the small designs around my face, the area around my hands, my feet, and the spider on my chest.

i wear the suit because i'm jump spider. this city's one and only protector for the past two years. well, not one and only. Alex helps too. he's my computer dude. my guy in the chair. it all started after i got into this fancy art school i auditioned for. it ended up being super over rated, but my parents pulled strings to get me in and disappointing them was the last thing i wanted to do. i met Alex, and he made things a little bit more tolerable. i stuck it out, but shit went south once my parents died.

i think the worse part about my parents death is the fact that i was in the car with them when it happened. i survived the crash that should've killed all three of us.

they were picking me up from school. someone said something, i don't know, i was staring out the window. in my own world. the screams started, the shouting. the words that would have been apologized for later, if there were a later. i'm guessing my dad just lost focus, got distracted. next thing i knew, i was jerked forward, back and side to side. my head hit the glass of the window, and i knocked out.

they didn't make it, either of them. we ended up staying with my ma's sister and brother, me and my siblings. i was lost for awhile, stuck in my own grief, pity, and survivor's guilt. i don't remember exactly when i got over it, or if i ever did. i think i just got used to them not being there, and i accepted that i couldn't have done anything.

the whole spider thing didn't start til a couple months later. i was on a field trip to some poorly taken care of bio lab. there were no precautions taken, no safety measures. had to be the foulest lab i have ever come across. this damn neon spider bit me on the leg.

nothing happened at first. then the cliché sticky hands, webs from my wrists, super strength. all that good shit. that happened a few days after the trip. i tried to hide it from Alex, but he's not stupid, nor is he blind, and he found out.

it was him who suggested i do the whole "hero" thing. that i should use my power for good. i was a bit reluctant at first, but he designed and made my suit, and the technology to go with it, and i decided i would do it. here's the thing: police don't exactly like you doing their job for them. i quickly became wanted. a vigilante, more than a hero.

"i just think that the city's hero should be able to show her face."

"so i can get killed by all the people after my life?"

"..."

"that's what i thought. quit yapping."

i learned that some people accept me as their hero, and some people want me dead. to be honest, i wouldn't have it any other way.

track:0 - end.

#Spotify #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #hobie brown #miguel o'hara #peni parker #gwen stacy #peter b parker #spider noir #jessica drew #spidersona #spiderverse oc #writing

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juminsmysticmc · 2 years

Note

Hello can I request a hc about Rfa+minor trio( as older brother) trying to take care of their younger sister (which is mc) when she's sick? I hope you understand the request. Have a nice day!

RFA + Minor Trio AU taking care of MC as their sister

Thank you for your request, have a nice day too! Ps.: funny that I am writing the request now, that my sister has Covid ( again ) but I’m not the one who’s taking care ( my mom is )

Jumin

It was late in the night when Kang Jaehee was still online in the Chatroom of the RFA, chatting with her idol and the red-haired hacker.

,,Thinking of it, Jaehee, why are you online and Jumin’s not?’’ Seven asked.

,,Mr Han isn’t coming to work for two days now due to his sister being sick in bed. He is taking care of her health right now…very tiring…’’ she stated, sending an emoji of her face, sighing.

,,The trust fund kid has a sis he cares about?!’’ Zen asked, perplexed.

While the RFA talked about different relationships between siblings, someone else was instead preparing some tea and apples in a bunny shape for a little five year old.

This person was none other than Jumin Han, who was currently trying to make his half-sister feel better.

,,Jumin, the bunnies taste so good!’’ she chuckled. Right afterward, a wave of coughing overtook her body, making her gag and grab his hand in panic.

,,Breathe slowly. In with your nose, out with the mouth, don’t worry, Mc,’’ he whispered with the patience of an angel, until her coughing died down.

He quickly gave her some tea to sip on and made sure to lie her down.

,,Can you tell me a story, Jumin?’’ she sweetly asked her brother, blinking a few times.

Jumin had to smile, there was no way he wouldn’t tell her a story if this was her wish.

After her mother died in childbirth- his stepmother of nine-months and probably the only one who didn’t abuse him- he promised himself to protect her and take care of her.

,,Of course, Mc.’’

Zen

,,Mc…? Why are you here?’’ Zen gasped when he opened the door after checking who was at his door at a very unusual time.

It was none other than his younger sister with red eyes, a sniffling nose, and a pale face.

,,The mask looks good on you…Oppa…’’ she groaned before her body fell forward in his arms, making him quickly freak out.

The girl, early in her teens, was currently burning. Her fever seemed pretty severe and bad coughing made it impossible for her to even rest.

Zen didn’t know why his younger sister was at his home, what triggered her, and how she got so sick, all he knew was that she needed his help.

Not even worrying about getting himself sick too, Zen made sure to lay her down in his bed, cover her, and prepare some tea for when she would wake up.

The first night was rough, especially the hallucinations because of the fever.

One that kind of triggered him was her dream when he quickly wanted to get up to open the window for some fresh air.

,,Don’t go…Hyun stay…’’ she whined, just like in the past when she fell on her knees.

,,Don’t leave again…don’t leave me alone. Don’t make me hate you even more for leaving me in that toxic household…I want you to be happy but save me too…’’ she whined.

Zen’s heart was aching. Her sister was enduring the hard fight on her own with his brother and parents.

She was always the only one who took his side and supported him. Despite this, he left her and went away…

Everything quickly cleared up afterward. Mc slept for another two days while getting constant calls from the mother and was lastly picked up by her after her runaway.

But Zen made sure to tell her that he would always be by her side.

,,And if it’s too much to bear, just call me. I will be your prince on the white horse…’’

Yoosung

No one believed Yoosung when he confessed that he would soon become a big brother.

His mother was expecting a child once again, more than 20 years younger than her last child, aka Yoosung.

Nevertheless, he was excited and made sure to support and help his mother in every possible way.

As soon as Yoosung was able to hold his little sister, he was sure to protect her, care for her, and be the perfect big brother.

He even stopped playing as much LOLOL as before just to keep being motivated at university.

He wanted to look good in front of his little sister.

Unfortunately, the last child of the Kim family was the most sickly one.

There were constant fevers and all possible children’s sicknesses which existed.

Once again, Yoosung was sitting on the edge of his sister’s bed as no one could take care of her at the moment, pressing a cold towel on her warm forehead, holding her hand and softly rubbing her hand to let her know that he was still there.

,,Yoosung-oppa…make the headache go away, please…’’ the little girl begged, but Yoosung, who in her eyes was a superhero who could save all animals, was powerless.

,,I will make you some good soup, then you will get better in no time!’’ he nodded. The last thing he read in the book named ,,How to take care of children’’ was that they should stay hydrated.

Since her big brother told her that he would make her soup, it would do wonders, right?

Jaehee

The young woman smiled sadly as she stroked the head of the teenager resting on her lap.

She resembled her mother more and more.

A day didn’t pass where Jaehee didn’t miss her parents, feeling sad and devastated because of their death.

The worst feeling however was that her little sister never got to know her father.

She almost couldn’t remember her mother, but instead had to go through all those hard times with her aunt and her family.

Even though these times were gone, Jaehee still felt guilty, but she didn’t want to part with her sister with everything they went through.

This was now the second day in a row where Jaehee had to stay at home due to her sister’s bad health, but luckily Jumin seemed pretty understanding of this emergency.

Jaehee checked the temperature again before she looked out of the window.

,,I feel like everything is spinning,’’ her sister groaned, making Jaehee look down at her.

,,Of course it does, you’re sick,’’ she commented.

,,Can we watch Zen’s last show?’’

Jaehee was proud that her sister seemed to be interested in the same thing as her and she gladly exchanged opinions.

Indeed, Jaehee noticed that this child was her sister.

Should I add something here?

Saeyoung

It was already hard dealing with Saeran being sick as his twin brother. When he, however, understood that his ,,mother’’ expected another child and that there would be another baby, he was devastated.

He was happy that there was someone else too, but he was scared.

He was scared that the new baby would have much more hardships, scared his mother would be even worse now…

And those fears made it possible that the young boy never actually had a childhood.

His fears came true when his half-sibling Mc was born and was constantly crying without his mother to take care of it.

Instead, a pillow was put on top of the crib.

Everyone would have understood that this could have ended badly.

This was the first and unfortunately not the last time, Mc was saved by her older brother.

As she grew, Saeyoung quickly understood that she was just as weak as his brother and that he needed to save them both.

That’s why when he met Jihyun, he suddenly felt at ease.

Saeran was taken away from him, something that made him feel even worse, but he managed at least to keep his little sister by her side and as long as he got updated on his brother, everything would be alright…

,,Saeyoung…’’ Mc groaned in pain. Her fever was rising again while her hands grew colder and colder.

,,I had a weird dream…about you existing twice…that would be tiresome’’ she laughed, closing her eyes as he washed her arms with a wet towel.

,,I guess these fevers bring back some old memories, little sister…’’ he whispered.

Saeran

He didn’t know how or why, but suddenly the red-haired man wasn't with his older twin brother anymore.

Instead, he was holding a baby in his arms who was observing him while he followed the blonde girl.

Saeran never understood why his brother left him, why he saved only his own life.

Saeran’s heart was filled with hate and anger, sadness and disappointment.

But there was one person who made him smile despite the bad feeling he got whenever he heard the name of his brother - you.

,,You have to make sure to drink a lot,’’ he said while he put the flowers on the table and went to open the window.

,,I feel weak, I have to throw up…my heart is hurting and I feel…weird…’’ you gasped, holding your bedsheet as you tried to calm down your heartbeat.

,,I know it was the same for me too when I took the elixir. Let’s try to skip it, okay?’’ Saeran asked, taking the blue fluid from you and making and pouring it into the flower bed.

,,Will you skip it with me, Saeran…?’’ you asked him.

,,If this is your wish…but only if you promise to eat the soup now,’’ he nodded.

Saeran didn’t know that this wish of yours would save his life.

If he perhaps would have seen how the fresh flowers began to wither next to him, instead of feeding you, Saeran’s realization could have come earlier…

Jihyun

,,Sorry that I threw up on the new picture you drew,’’ the young girl lying in bed whimpered after her older brother showed her the latest picture he drew.

She, despite her being the daughter of another woman, was the only one who was allowed to see his pictures.

To see the art.

She was the only person who had the opportunity and the only person he talked to honestly ( expect Jumin ).

Mc, his younger sister, was like his sunshine, who could make a lot of things clear for him.

,,Are you still seeing that blonde woman, by the way?’’ she asked her brother.

The bowl - in the case she had to throw up again, was right next to her.

On her forehead was a cold towel and her body was tucked in underneath the warm and cozy blanket he took out of the drawer.

Jihyun smiled and checked her temperature again before he put the towel into the cold water next to him before placing it on her forehead once again.

,,I am seeing her, why?’’ he asked his sister.

Despite her being a few years younger, she was very intelligent and noticed things in people right away. She was also very sensitive.

,,I think, you should…just…I don’t know…I’m scared that one day you will be scared to do the right thing because of her… If you notice something is toxic, you should handle it quickly, you know?’’ she mumbled before she covered her mouth and made gagging sounds.

Jihyun quickly reacted and brought the bowl closer to her.

Once she was asleep, he thought deeply about her words. So perhaps she noticed and tried to persuade him into taking action…?

Vanderwood - just made up his past

Vanderwood was eight when he first met you.

The nun in the orphanage held you, the one year old girl who just lost her parents, without knowing what the future would bring.

,,Make sure to protect her. You’re the oldest here, yes?’’ the woman asked him.

Since then, for Vanderwood, you were his sister.

Mc, the little girl who was always by Vanderwood.

Whenever it was raining, the nuns found her in his bed, sleeping in his embrace as he held her ears closed so that she wouldn’t hear the rain.

Whenever older boys were teasing you, Vanderwood would come to your rescue.

And one day, when you were ten and he was allowed to get out of the orphanage, for the first time, Mc was requested for adoption.

,,Bro, you can’t live without me, huh?’’ Mc laughed when she carried her bag towards the old little apartment.

,,Mc…I can’t live without you…get better soon,’’ Vanderwood whispered another day.

Her face was as pale as the clouds up in the sky.

Her face was covered in sweat, her little thin arms were being held by his big hands as breathing became harder and harder for her.

,,I will beg a doctor to check on you and to give you some medicine,’’ he whispered, at this moment, he regretted taking her with him. She had never gotten this sick.

,,Too much money…just stay here. I will be better tomorrow,’’ she assured him, coughing hardly once again.

,,I…I will try to ask for help,’’ he promised, giving her a sip of water and changing the towel on her head.

,,Before you go, please change my shirt… I am sweating so much…’’ she begged.

Her body was covered in red, little stains, making him more and more nervous and sure about the fact that she was seriously sick.

Vanderwood rushed out and at that very moment, he promised himself that he would never make her that sick again…

,,If you work for us, we will give her medical help and a good place to live for her whole life,’’ someone from a so-called agency told Vanderwood and before his sister could decline, Vanderwood signed the contract…

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

13.07.2022 // 21:57 MEST

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vivifrage · 2 years

Text

Inaaks Again

(Whoops. Still thinking of Her, evidently. Again, I'm sure canon will throw this all right out the window, but I'm having fun.)

Weeks. I have stayed weeks. My eyes sometimes stray to the wall, only to spy fresh bread and meat. I salivate at the sight, my stomach roars with hunger. Surely I cannot escape with how I have wasted away - I must replenish myself. And for that, I need the City’s food, and the House’s Ether.

Nobody questions who I am when I refill my Ether tanks. Some stammer, embarrassed that they do not remember me. Others shoot me suspicious glares, but do not dare speak up. Not in front of me, at least. I do not have the notoriety of Eramis, Spider, or even my son.

Sometimes the Humans offer their food to the starved refugee they see. Some let me barter with my findings; the way I stumble over my words disguises how I read through their price lists, choosing what I might be able to offer that they will accept. Others, I must be careful with, and take what I need when I get the chance.

The Saint wanders the streets. One time, I am not careful enough, and he turns a corner to come into view before I can skitter away. He does not pursue me, though I am certain he must hear my heart thundering under my carapace. But no, he sighs and mutters to himself before continuing on, while I am frozen behind a building, shivering.

I must leave soon. I must.

I tell myself this as I creep through the Eliksni Quarter in search of somewhere to bunk down for the night. The evening light has gone from golden to blue, and shadows are merging together. The cooling air is still far beyond Europa’s frigid temperatures, but it nibbles at my face and hands, teasing my empty stomach. I have had no luck with charity nor barter; I cannot rest long. If I rest at all, that is, instead of just finding somewhere to retreat to should I get caught. Provided Humans offer more kindness within their city walls than without and do not annihilate me on the spot.

Only then, I hear his voice. And despite myself, I freeze.

He speaks so sweetly to his people. A father asks for a moment’s help, and my son does not hesitate before inviting his gaggle of hatchlings to listen to a story. The way he laughs as they stop scuffling to run for him leaves dozens of jokes and anecdotes on my tongue. (But each grows darker, wearier than the last. The last time I heard that laugh, it was little more than a wheeze.)

Before I realize it, I am peering beyond the edge of the rubble. The exhausted, grateful father reshuffles his things and tends to a runt - not even one of his other childrens’ age, but one just starting to burble things akin to words while their siblings play-wrestle. My son bends a knee to scoop up the older children in all four arms, grunting with exaggerated effort as he lifts them up. They shriek and giggle, and all cling to him so readily. One even cranes their neck and he nuzzles them.

He tells them their story. It’s a simple thing, just long enough to let their father tend their sibling without making them all sit around for the conclusion. Each word comes out as a deep purr, rich as the soil I’d poured through my hands as a hatchling back home, spoken with the rhythm of ocean waves lapping against the shore.

At the end, he sets the children down. One cuddles into his shoulder, tiny hand tangling in his cloak’s ruff, and whines. He and the father coo to them until they relent, letting Misraaks pass their limp form over.

I am mesmerized watching him. I cannot stop turning his words over in my head. I cannot tear my eyes away from how gently he holds the stubborn hatchling, even as they whine. Even as he turns around, I ask myself how, how can he still be alive? His mask drops as he scents the air, and how did he do all this?

He tenses, eyes locked on mine, and I ask myself, how did I let him get away?

He gets the head start, bounding for me as I shake off the spell. My blankets flutter as I scramble away, carapace scraping and clacking on asphalt. I pant. My lungs burn as much as my stomach does. My limbs wobble under me.

I tear around a corner, gravel flying. My son follows close behind. He swipes at me. A crowd shrieks. Dust fills my path, and my eyes join the burning pain.

There’s a half-demolished building ahead. A few people stand before it, but they do not matter. I just need to jump up-

I brush against someone. They scream.

A swift kick to my ribs sends me tumbling. My chest sings in pain, and I gag on the air.

My son crouches over me. He grabs my hands and flips me onto my back. When I try to pull away, his grip remains strong. Not too tight, but he does not relent. I do not receive the gentleness he gave the hatchlings.

He leans forwards, kneels on a couple of my hands so he can free one. He folks away the blankets, pulls down my rebreather so I am left gasping in the dry atmosphere.

But not for long; he draws his hand away like I burned him, and my rebreather snaps into place.

He is breathless. If there is affection left, the shock and anger drown it out. “Mother?”

#destiny 2 #eliksni #inaaks #misraaks #jaxx writes

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thearchivistsjournal · 1 year

Text

Day 301,

After last night’s storm, the world outside is sodden and muddy, yet the sky is as clear as it’s ever been. Taken together, everything glistens with the rainbow-refracting glare of sunlight on water. I’m sure much of it will be dry again by the afternoon, but at the moment, gazing out the window at the morning scenery, it is beautiful.

*******

I asked one of Cass’s sisters - Sybil, the next youngest - about her lack of friends. I feel a little guilty for prying, but I tell myself it was out of concern for her wellbeing.

After spending the morning on laundry and setting it out to dry, I set off down the road toward the farm. Aside from simply being convenient time management, this particular order of operations both gave the dirt road a chance to dry out some and allowed me to miss James and whichever of Cass’s siblings were accompanying him to market today. Less chance of familial gossip making its way back to Cass like that.

It was Antigone whom I’d originally intended to talk to about the matter, but I ran into Sybil first on my way. She’d been out inspecting the fields in the wake of the storm and came over to greet me and ask what the occasion was. When I told her I wanted to ask her mother about something she told me that today was one of Antigone’s post-insomnia rest days, so best not to disturb her.

I’d almost forgotten about that, and if there’s one thing I have sympathy for it’s the need for sleep. In a spur-of-the-moment change of plans I told Sybil that maybe she could help me instead, so long as she doesn’t tell anyone else I was asking about it, especially Cass. I think my sudden conversational swerve toward secrecy may have intrigued her, for she agreed readily enough. But if she was expecting some manner of exciting archival mystery or planned surprise for her little sister, she was in for disappointment when I explained my recent conversation with Cass and subsequent concern for my apprentice’s social life and emotional wellbeing.

As Sybil listened her face took on a familiar expression, and when she replied it was with a tone driven by an emotion I knew well. That feeling of wishing you had done more in the past for someone you cared about but know not what. A subdued melancholy with just a touch of intertwined pity and guilt.

She told me that Cass’s desire to not be seen as a child and constantly trying to prove herself toward that end started early on. When she started school it manifested as throwing herself into studying to be the best at any topic taught and distancing herself from her peers because she didn’t want to be associated with “a bunch of kids who can’t keep up.” Despite herself, Cass did manage to make one friend though, a shepherd’s daughter named Xia two years older than her. From what Sybil knew, the two of them got to be pretty close. Close enough that Cass seemed to think she didn’t really need anyone else for friendship.

But - and of course there’s a “but” - shortly after Cass aged out of schooling she and Xia had a falling out of some sort. Neither Sybil nor the rest of the family was ever able to get the details of what exactly happened out of either party, but for a solid week Cass was inconsolable over it. And then, one day, Cass suddenly went back to acting like nothing had ever happened. They could all tell it was a mask (or at least Sybil could and so she assumes everyone else could too) and occasionally the mask would slip, but over time Cass seemed to genuinely get better and move on and everyone else learned not to bring the matter up.

And that, as they say, was that. Sybil told me that I’m the first person outside the family she’s really latched onto since then. Not sure if it has to do with me specifically, or if I just happened to be in the right place at the right time when she was finally really able to try the whole friendship thing again.

I didn’t really know what to say to all that other than to thank Sybil for letting me know. She said she was happy to share if it might help out her sister. She’d always been worried that Cass was lonelier than she let on.

I said I’d had the same concern. I left out the part where I don’t know if there’s actually anything I can do with this information now that I have it though.

But, hey, maybe if this market day telling becomes a regular thing that she accompanies me to, that will help. It’s mostly an older crowd, sure, but there’s usually at least a few people there around her age. Kids with their parents from the outskirts, apprentices with their mentors (often the same thing), idle teens looking for evening entertainment, that sort of thing.

Also, it’s weird that I seem to have become a replacement friend twice now.

Well, laundry should be close to dry by now. I’ll check on it and head back into the Village for the evening.

*******

The evening at the inn went well. Cass was waiting for me in the archive when I got there and we went over plans for the evening one last time before heading out.

Once again, Vernon and Lin were already there with a table. Once again, another patron asked if I was there to do a telling. Once again, I said yes but not until I’ve eaten.

The first telling of the night was one the two of us had done together before, playing into the novelty of having two tellers at once to split the lines. It was during the intermission following that first telling that I asked Cass if she wanted to try doing the next one by herself. She was surprised - thought I was joking with her even - but once she realized I was serious she jumped at the chance.

And so I went back out into the center of the room to introduce my apprentice and hype her up for the crowd. As I took my seat to let Cass take the metaphorical stage, Lin and Vernon whispered their concerns to me and asked if I was sure about this. In truth I wasn’t entirely, but I wasn’t about to let that show when Cass might see or hear. I mean, yes, I had confidence in her, but you never really know with this sort of thing until it’s done.

As it turned out, there was little reason to worry. Sure, she stumbled at first, but that’s to be expected to a degree, and she found her flow state soon enough. The real surprise was her choice of story. The Merchant and the Blacksmith’s Daughter was definitely not one of the ones we had discussed doing tonight. I’m still not sure if her choice was made out of tributary flattery or sheer cheek, but she told it well and I’m proud of her for it. She must have memorized it back when I was practicing for my first equinox because I never wrote the first half down outside of this journal and never wrote the second half down at all. Yes, there were more than a few spots that were different, but that’s the nature of what we do and can hardly be said to lessen her feat of remembering it all.

Once she finished, the clapping had begun even before I returned “center stage” to publicly congratulate her and make closing remarks on the performance. She was flushed and worn out looking, but nothing like I was after my first telling of that tale. More like she’d just run a hard race and it was still sinking in that she’d won and she wasn’t sure what to do with the attention that comes with that.

As I walked her back to our table someone called out for one more. I obliged. A short tale though. One to round out the night without overshadowing my apprentice’s solo debut.

She’ll be better than me at this one day.

The walk escorting her back to Norman and Marva’s that night was a quiet one. The whole way there she was wearing that self-satisfied smirk she’s mastered even more than telling. But you know what? This time at least she earned it. At one point along the way I told her she did a good job and that I was proud. Her response? “I know.”

Cheeky child.

Once we got there I found out that she hadn’t actually told her family what specific archivist duties she was helping me with tonight. I got to watch her play the game of making them guess what it was and slowly drag the answer out of her until she finally dropped the act and launched into an excited retelling of, well, her telling. Congratulations were made all around and I ducked out early, citing tiredness.

And so ends day three hundred one. Another milestone I suppose. Well, technically, yesterday was the milestone but…

It may not mean much to mark every hundredth day, and will mean less as time goes on, but I take some small joy in it. Will I bother to remark on three fifty when it arrives, or will the approaching anniversary of my arrival in this place overshadow it? We’ll see how I feel when we get there I suppose.

But, a milestone, however small or large, is still a good time for a moment of reflection. Or perhaps another note to whomever reads this journal, whether a future archivist, a future outsider, or my future self. Or perhaps the nature sprite invisibly reading over my shoulder as I write.

Whomever you are, I’m sure that by now you’ve noticed that I have a tendency to go on at length about any number of topics, large and small. Whether waxing poetic on the beauty of mundane things or soliloquizing about anxiety and loneliness. I’m not trying to be deep or profound when I do this. I am neither poet nor philosopher, nor do I aspire to be. I hold no great truths of the world in my mind that I’m trying to spread. I have no one that I seek to impress.

So, when I go on like that, it comes down to two things, really. The first is that, from the beginning, this journal has been a tool for helping me understand both this world and myself. As such, much of this is me working through things as I write; a sort of stream of consciousness as I examine things and work through them, stumbles, tangents and all.

The second thing is that I quite simply enjoy it. I’ve said before that the way I speak is not the way I write. Tellings notwithstanding (and those are half recitation and in many ways more like playing a game and being someone else for a time than holding a conversation), when it comes to the spoken word I am prone to laconicism. Short phrases and long pauses. Stutters, stops, and repetitions. The words I find never quite the ones I’m searching for. Peace made with fading into the background because I’ve learned it’s easier than forcing myself to speak up. But the words come easier with the writing. It’s a freedom from the normal frustrations of communication and with that freedom it is hard not to indulge in the whimsy of letting pent up words fly free.

I’m getting better, with the speaking I mean. Slowly, but I am. Having a job that requires me to interact with others helps. The telling helps. The teaching helps. Having friends helps.

Knowing myself helps.

Maybe that helps everyone.

<==Previous Next==>

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the-tangle-web · 2 years

Text

Family Matters (w/ Cream & Sugar) -3-

Athena sat sideways on her chair so her back was to the wall, and also so that her line of eyesight wasn’t looking at Anthony. She stared down at the cinnamon rolls resting on top of the bag on the table. A couple of seconds went by before she finally gave in. Slowly lowering down her mask and covering her mouth with her free hand as she ate. Jen was right, the pastries here were good. She glanced at the two adults sitting by the window deep in joyous conversation. Oh. They were going to be here a while. Fuck. She finished her first roll and picked at the bandage across her nose. What the actual fuck do you say to the guy who always attacks you when you meet? Her chest tightened as she continued to pick at the bandage.

(+)

Anthony let out a low grumble, then he perked up as he heard the little bell from the front door of the shop ring. He turned his head round just to see who was there and-

His face flushed a bright red,

Tara Williams walked into the shop holding a fluffy brown chihuahua. Behind her trailed her brother, Teddy. Tara wore the most smug grin as always as she chatted with her brother, Teddy responding in kind with a short chuckle as the two siblings ordered at the front counter. Anthony immediately hid behind the wall and back into his chair as he sunk into it, pulling his hood up and shrinking into his hoodie, blushing furiously. God damnit, why does his crush always have to appear at the most inconvenient time?!

However, he couldn’t hide for long when he heard a voice call out,

“Athena! Bestie!” Tara strided over to the table, Anthony straightening up again, hands clasped under the table as he avoided eye contact, wishing he could just disappear right now,

Tara set a hand on the table, Furby was set on the floor, the teen holding her leash. The chihuahua sniffed at Athena’s shoes and let out a strangled sound from the back of her throat, tapping on the ground with her front paws as if tap dancing… or really needing to go to the bathroom… or just not okay…

(+)

Athena's face scrunched up as she screamed internally.

“Ugh. Tara, what are you even doing here.”

She grumbled, pulling up her face mask as she tried to control the soft hiss forming in her throat.

“What do you mean? This is the best coffee place is town! Teddy, come say hi!”

(+)

“I’m literally getting our drinks, Tara!” The other teen called from the counter as he waited for their drinks to be done.

Tara scoffed and rolled her eyes, her gaze landing on Anthony from across the table and she smiled,

“Hey! I didn’t know you two hung out, you on like a date or something-“

“NO WE’RE NOT!” Anthony blurted out, setting his arms rather harshly on the table, his face still red as he gesture over to Matt and Jen, “they dragged us here and now we have to wait…” he grumbled,

Tara hummed and giggled, “Good, just making sure I didn’t miss my shot,” she winked at him and stood up properly, tugging at Furby’s leash as the little dog blinked harshly and waddled back over to her feet,

“We’ll leave you to it then, bye Athena!” She turned to Anthony, “Cya, kitten~” and she turned to walk over to Teddy who was holding their drinks by the door. Furby was walking at a million miles an hour just to keep pace with the teen as the two left out the door.

Anthony was a bright red as he pulled his hood down and covered his face with a groan.

Jen perks up from the other table,

“Anthony!” She squeaked with a mischievous grin, “who was thaaaat~”

“Not now, Jen!” His retort was muffled as he sank in his chair.

(+)

“What the fuck.”

Athena muttered, looking between Jen and Anthony as the woman started to berate him with questions.

Collab w/ @ask-spidersisters

#the tangle web #anthony rossi #spider oc #writing #scarlet spider #ocs #spider sona #collab #universe 67889 matt murdock #universe 67889 daredevil #universe 67889 jennifer walters #Tara Williams #Teddy Williams

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liesareeasier · 2 years

Text

‘Trust The Living’ Chapter 3

A Daryl Dixon/ Walking Dead Inspired Fan-Fic

*mature content warning*

Word count: 2515 words :)

By: Me, MoonFlowerWrites on Wattpad

I hurried to the truck just as everyone else was climbing in, not fully understanding why I was so willing to help this group that I barely knew. Maybe it was the possibility of reuniting siblings, even if one of them was a racist asshole. I didn't have my sister, and if I couldn't yet make that right, I could at least help with this.

The ride back into the city was a short and uneventful one. I couldn't believe I was already going back in the city, after just having decided to leave yesterday.

When we got back into Atlanta, Rick parked the truck under a quiet overpass near the building we had left Merle. We would meet back here after getting him and the others grabbing the guns.

When we got on the street, there were even more groaners than before. Or geeks, as Glenn keeps calling them. I had heard so many names for them in these past few weeks, but that was the funniest so far. Foregoing our original plan, we decided to stay together, heading up to get Merle, and then all going for the guns as a unit. It would be safer that way.

We swiftly ran upstairs, Daryl running ahead. I could tell he was anxious about finding his brother and masking it with his rage. He hadn't spoken much on the way here. Frankly, none of us had, but I could tell he was pissed off. His jaw was tense and he didn't make eye contact with any of us. I think he blamed T the most, since he had been the one to drop the key that would have set Merle free.

It truly was an accident that the keys were dropped. That's the kind of man that T-Dog was showing himself to be. Merle had attacked him with his racist ignorance and T was still willing to help him. Every action from this group was validating my decision of staying with them.

As we reached the top, we heard Daryl screaming out for his brother. The once shining handcuffs were now dripping with blood. Where we had left him chained, laid not Merle, but only his hand. Daryl looked around frantically for his brother but he could not be seen anywhere near us.

"No, no, no, no..." He screamed as a look of panic flashed across his face. He looked broken. I strangely wanted to comfort him but stood back as he raised his crossbow to face T-Dog.

I knew he blamed him, I felt it. I had always been sensitive to the moods of others. Having been in therapy for most of my adolescence gave me an insight to the emotions of another person. I just didn't expect that Daryl would get violent over this.

Rick promptly raised his gun, forcing Daryl to face reality. Merle has made this decision. The best we could do now was try to figure out where he went from here.

He wrapped up his brother's hand, placing it in Glenn's backpack, as he started tracking a blood trail across the roof. We all followed him down a set of stairs, following the drops of blood.

"He might still be in here," Daryl yelled as he called out for his brother.

We followed the blood to an empty level a few floors down from the roof. There were camping stoves lit, their fuel still burning the flames and a flat, metal iron sitting next to the stove. He must have cauterized the wound himself...

"Damn bastard! That's Merle! Tough as shit!" Daryl exclaimed with a little hope as he noticed a broken window on the other side of the office.

I quickly realized that we must be close behind Merle. We should grab the guns, and try to find him on our way back to camp. He must be headed back there if he survived getting off the roof.

"Let's get the guns, and get Merle on our way back!" Rick proposed, saying exactly what I had been thinking to myself, but the group was split.

Glenn, T-Dogg, and I decided to go for the guns while Rick and Daryl continued to hunt for Merle. Daryl wasn't ready to give up. I didn't exactly agree but we all understood.

Glenn had come up with the route we would take to execute out plan. Daryl was impressed with his skills and asked him what he did before all of this.

"Delivered pizzas," Glenn responded. We all just started at him, impressed and maybe craving pizza at that moment. We snapped back to it, remembering what we were here to do.

We get down to the street, Glenn, T-Dog, and myself, about to grab the guns. We even spotted Rick's sheriff hat in the street. These people have done a lot for me already, and I need to prove myself. I've made it this far on my own, I can do this.

"Alright, stay here Glenn, T. I'll grab the guns and come right back here. Keep the gate closed and get ready to open it when I turn back around. Okay?" I more stated than asked, and they both nodded in agreement.

They opened the gate of the alley we were in, and I quickly make my way to the guns, avoiding geeks on the way. I can't believe I'm calling them that now but it sounded better than groaners. I try to grab both the guns and Rick's hat when another group comes up and attacks.

A man grabs me right before I can get back to the gate, geeks getting closer to us. I can see T-Dog trying to get a guy off of Glenn, but a third guy comes up and threatens him with a gun. A car screeches up, and the men throw Glenn and I into the car. Fuck... I'm trying not to panic but I knew I didn't feel safe coming back into the city for a reason.

As we're being thrown into the car, I see Daryl and Rick rush into the alley. Daryl's eyes meet mine and he looks terrified, to say the least. He had the same look of panic when we found Merle's hand up on the roof. His eyes flashed to Glenn's before I saw him reach for his crossbow. He shoots the third man, the one that had threatened T-Dog, in the leg with an arrow.

That's the last thing I saw before the men put a bag over my head and I assume over Glenn's. The car took off with us struggling in the backseat.

"Emma I'm so sorry... I promise we'll get out of this." I could tell that Glenn was about to cry but was trying to stay strong. I stayed quiet, not responding, not giving our captors any chance to hear our potential plans. We would get out of this. I just knew it. We had to play it cool and figure out what these guys wanted.

I felt like they did a few circles around the block before the car stopped. They didn't want us to know the location of their set-up. I knew we were still inside the city, as we had only made short, sharp turns before we were at our destination.

They pulled the hoods off our heads when we arrived at their hideout. They weren't too forceful with us, just guiding us to a locked room. We walked through what looked like a hospital or old folks home on the way in. So these guys will take care of the elderly and kidnap random strangers??? Seems to add up...

Glenn and I were stuck for a while in that room. We didn't talk to each other too much. I could tell that Glenn felt guilty, like it was his fault we were stuck in here.

"I'm so sorry Emma," he started again. "I should have known this was going to go to shit! Anything involving Merle was bound to be a disaster..."

I didn't want him to feel like this. It wasn't his fault. He's been a friend to me since we met yesterday. I was more grateful for him than he knew. We should have scoped out the street first, before I just ran to grab the guns. At least Rick still had them. Maybe we had a chance of getting out of here.

"Please didn't beat yourself up about it, Glenn. We couldn't have known these assholes were lying in wait..." I was rudely interrupted when three guys came in, cuffing us, and dragging us up to the roof.

The heat was sweltering and I was so caught off guard when I saw Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog staring up at us from the courtyard below.

Rick was trying to trade one of their men, that they had captured, for Glenn and myself. The leader of this group didn't seem amused as he had two of us and he felt entitled to Rick's guns.

Apparently, he had seen them in the street before we had gone back for them, and wanted them for his men. Fuck, we're fucked... They're just going to kill us and take the guns. I finally found people willing to fight for me and it was all about to end...

As they were trying to come to an agreement, I noticed that Daryl's eyes were locked on me. It's possible he was looking at Glenn, I had to tell myself. There's no reason why he could be worried about me...

My intuition was confirmed, however, when the guys started heading inside with our captors. He gave me that familiar head nod and I knew he would get us out of this.

We didn't know each other yet, but I could just tell he was loyal. Even after he couldn't find his brother, he was still willing to help us. He was quick with that crossbow. That would come in handy if things got sticky in there.

The men that had dragged Glenn and I up to the roof led us back to the room they were holding us in. They uncuffed us and shut the door. I didn't know what to expect.

It was set up like a hospital room almost. I sat on a gurney, cot type thing and Glenn was in a chair by the door. We should have been coming up with an escape plan but we didn't know how to even get out of this building. We had had hoods on our heads when they led us in, and had no idea how many of the dead could be surrounding this 'camp'.

Glenn was about to say something, probably apologize again, when the door swung open. I felt so relieved to see Daryl and Rick. Them and T-Dog led us out of the building, having come to an agreement with this group.

They turned out to be a nice group. They were just trying to take care of the elderly and wanted the guns to protect everyone. Rick had agreed to give them about half the guns and ammo, and they agreed to let us go on our way. We wished them luck in this world and left.

•••

The walk back to our truck was short and somehow relatively clear of geeks. There had been so many when we got here earlier. I wasn't complaint though. I seriously can't believe Glenn has me calling them that. Killing geeks with a nerd and a bunch of strangers... The irony wasn't lost of me.

Glenn was joking with Rick, asking if his hat was the real reason he wanted to come back. Rick just laughed him off. Glenn was always trying to lighten the mood. I had appreciated that about him. It was rare, especially these days.

Daryl mostly grunted along the walk back. He was annoyed that Rick had potentially given away too much of our ammo and weapons. Did he regret saving us? Maybe he thought it would have been better off leaving us with them. I really hoped not.

"Thank you," I said in his direction, trying to show my gratitude for his help, but he seemed to be lost in his anger again. He didn't respond but I knew he heard me. That would have to be enough.

Rick reminded him that we were left with plenty of guns and about 700 rounds of ammo. We would be set until we had the opportunity to scavenge for more. He would pass them out when we arrived back at camp. I was hoping to at least get a small pistol or something along those lines, seeing as I only had handheld weapons.

I hadn't shot a gun since I was little. My dad used to take me hunting with him. It was not my favorite activity at the time, but I was appreciative to have those skills, especially now. When we got back to camp, I was going to try to hunt for some fresh game for the group. Show them that I was willing to help and provide for everyone.

We reached where the truck was parked. Well, should have been parked. Shit... We had left it right here!

"Who would take the truck?" Glenn wondered out loud. T-Dog agreed, looking around in frustration.

"Merle..." Rick quickly responded.

Fearing he was heading back to our camp to take out some vengeance, we knew we would have to head back on foot. We would have to run most of the way if we wanted to get back before dark. We all looked at each other, understanding the risk ahead of us, and head out towards the group.

I was instantly glad that I hadn't brought much of my stuff with me. I didn't envy Rick for having to carry the bag of weapons or Daryl lugging his crossbow around. Good thing he has those strong shoulders to carry that burden. I had to cut off my thoughts. How was he getting in my head so much? I just met him and he spent most of our interactions cursing at me or blowing me off. Whatever.

We set off towards the camp, anxious to get back. The sun was close to going down, so we would have to hurry, but at least the heat had let up slightly. I had grown up around here but could never get used to the harsh humidity that came with it.

I was so grateful to have found these people. I had been ready to face this world on my own. They saved my life today and I would do anything to prove myself to them.

"It was no problem," Daryl finally replied to me as we started back towards camp. He had heard me. I gave him a head nod and a slight smile as we all headed back to the others.

I couldn't wait to wash this day off of me, get into my tent, and get some much, much needed sleep.

•••

A/n: Thanks to anyone reading my story! I appreciate any and all of you so much. It's so nerve wracking to share my work. Much love to all reading this!!! 💕

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trailmixedup · 2 years

Text

+ Thursday, November 17 +

“Been working for the man

Every goddamn day

I've been smoking with my friends

To wash the nights away

Catching up on sleeps

Harder when I'm waking up next to me

There's a girl from down the road

Sendin’ looks my way

Frankly dear, I'm not quite sure

What I'm supposed to say

How can I say no

When you're a thousand miles away?

Wish I could roll the windows down

But the snow has swallowed up our little town

Well there's coffee in my cup

And cameras in my face

Well, I think I've had enough

Of all these people in this place

Tomorrow I'll be gone

Could be a thousand miles away

And there's something on my chest

It's really messing with my health

Just because I'm smiling

Doesn't mean that I am smiling for myself

Take the stage and put the mask back on the shelf

Wish I could roll the windows down

But the snow has swallowed up our little town

I know you had to leave

But you didn't have the right to take the sun

You stole it in my sleep”

———————————————————————————————————

In therapy this week my therapist told me that by hating myself the amount I do I am subsequently poisoning every one of my other relationships. It was jarring. And unpleasant. And confusing. I didn’t— still don’t understand why something actively keeping me on my toes and aware that I owe the world is so bad, but she told me to think about it. And I have been. It’s hard to reconsider a mindset that’s been holding me aware of my checks and balances for the past several years though. It’s hard to even think that I might deserve to be happy and not in a constant debt to those around me. I don’t know, it sounds stupid when I write it out— a no brainer that sure, I should have earned happiness by now, but I can’t help cringing away from the concept like parchment paper in an oven. There’s comfort in self loathing: there’s always someone to blame, a scapegoat, a reason for all the shit that’s happened… I don’t know if I can function without being able to blame myself for my past. I want to be wholly responsible for the evils of my childhood (“children will never be fully responsible for their actions” apparently) because if I am not then that means that at some point the reason I hurt others wasn’t because I was evil but because I was failed by the adults around me, and I don’t want to hold that. My parents didn’t do the best they could, I know that because I shouldn’t have had to raise my siblings while I was in middle school. I know that because I shouldn’t have been the only line of communication between two grown adults with petty grudges against each other. But I guess I just feel weak if I admit that their inability to support me through the downfall of my mental state actually fucked me up. I should have been stronger- I should have been better- I shouldn’t have been so fucking mean and needy and clingy and manipulative and fucking toxic. There’s so many things I should have- could have done but didn’t. And I don’t know how to rationalize them not being fully my own fault. Fuck I don’t know man, I don’t want to carry all my past trauma into my adulthood like this. I want to be able to let go but I’m still logged into my goddamn eating disorder Twitter account “just in case”, and I’m fighting for my life in a sea of relapse urges and sometimes I want to be bad so someone will fucking notice. I won’t though. I’m better than that now.

I’m going in circles.

I’m going to bed.

#vent post #online diary #depressing post #mental decline #tw sh related #indie music #i’m so tired #my therapist would be proud #or maybe she wouldn’t #self sabotage #i’m emotionally compromised #i want to be okay

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justabigassnerd · 2 years

Text

Sidekick

Pairing - TASM!Peter Parker x sister!reader

Word count - 2,166

Warnings - little bit of angst but mostly sibling banter n fluff

Summary - Peter's younger sister finds out about his superhero endeavours and longs to be his sidekick. Peter, however, isn't keen on this idea

Sequel - 'The Spider-Man experience'

A/N - hey y'all sorry for the delay in fics, like I said on my last upload, my dog has been put down and tbh I've been struggling to cope and uni & work haven't been helping but I've been pushing through it because I don't wanna neglect this blog. This was an anon request that I thought was adorable and I tried my best to do it justice. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Peter hadn’t planned on telling you about him being Spider-Man. At least not until you were a bit older because even though you were fourteen, part of Peter’s job as your older brother was to look out for you and to protect you. He wasn’t willing to put you at risk because he went out every night patrolling for criminals.

Peter had snuck into his window and had only just removed his mask, grabbing his water bottle off his desk and took a swig before returning the bottle to his desk and turning around. Usually, his spider-sense would warn him of any impending danger but because it was you and Peter had never viewed you as any kind of threat, his senses neglected to warn him of your presence.

“Peter! Aunt May’s been calling you for-” You stopped in your tracks when you saw Peter dive under his cover, but you had already seen the Spider-Man suit.

“y/n, have you heard of knocking?!” Peter yells from under his duvet, silently cursing himself for forgetting to lock his door and for just standing around. He heard the door close, and he knew from the lack of footsteps that you were still in the room with him. He sighed lightly when he realised you weren’t going to budge until he gave you answers. Deciding to bite the bullet, he sticks his head out from under the duvet.

“You’re Spider-Man?” You asked in an excited whisper, eyes wide at this newfound information. Peter knows there’s no other way around this conversation, so he just nods his head.

“You can’t tell May. She’d freak out.” He adds quickly, watching as you nod your head quickly, understanding his words.

“How the hell did you become Spider-Man? What happened?” You question eagerly, grabbing his desk chair and sitting on it. Peter knew you were a Spider-Man fan, ever since he saved the city from becoming lizard people his masked persona gained a following and you were one of them.

“I got bitten by a spider in Oscorp.” He shrugs, sitting up in his bed and crossing to his door, locking it so May doesn’t walk in too.

“What were you doing in Oscorp?” You immediately ask, and Peter never regretted something more in his life than his previous sentence.

“If I tell you, you’re going to have to keep your mouth shut. You can’t tell May. You can’t tell any of your friends. The only people who can know are me and you, okay?” Peter says sternly as he sits down on the edge of his bed, watching with a raised eyebrow as you nod.

“See that briefcase? Pass it here.” Peter says, pointing under his desk behind you and waits patiently for you to grab it and pass it to him. Once the case is in his hands, he unzips the front and finds the hidden zip, unzipping that and pulling out the contents he found in there. He took the photo of Richard Parker and Curt Connors, holding it out towards you and watching as you take it between your thumb and forefinger. He saw your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he felt a hand squeeze at his heart at your lack of recognition.

“The guy on the right is dad.” Peter says gently, watching as you hold the picture closer, studying the face of your father. Peter forgot you were barely a year old when your parents had dropped you off at May and Ben’s and left, never to return. He forgot you had no memories of them and for most of your younger years believed May and Ben were your parents, growing confused and upset when they told you otherwise.

“That’s dad?” Your now small voice questions, eyes fixed on the image of the man. You tried conjuring up a single memory of this man and you felt tears stinging your eyes when nothing came up.

“Hey, come here.” Peter says softly, gesturing for you to come to sit beside him on the bed. He waits for you to move to sit next to him and once you do, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you against his side. He gently takes the photo from your hand putting it to the side as you sigh.

“I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t remember as much about them as I do. Look, that guy next to dad is Curt Connors. I went to Oscorp to see if I could find out something about dad or his research from Connors. Then I bumped into this random guy who dropped his papers, and I recognised a symbol from one of the papers on dads desk the day we were brought here. So I kinda followed the guy into a room full of spiders and one of them decided it would be funny to bite me and here we are.” Peter explains gently, jostling you slightly with his shoulder at the end of his explanation in an attempt to make you laugh. He got a small laugh from you and that was enough for him.

“And now you have freaky spider powers?” You say, a slightly teasing tone to your voice.

“And now I have freaky spider powers.” Peter echoes with a laugh. You fall into a comfortable silence before you let out a small gasp.

“I could be your sidekick! I could help you with crimefighting!” You exclaim, your eyes shining with excitement as Peter’s eyes widen.

“No. No, you most definitely can’t.” Peter says, the horror evident on his face at your words.

“Why, don’t you trust me?” You question with a frown, slouching where you were sat and looking away from Peter.

“You know it’s not that. It’s because being Spider-Man is dangerous. You could be in danger just by knowing I’m him. I don’t want you getting hurt. I promised myself that I’d never ever let you get hurt, not on my watch. Besides, I’ve got superpowers and last I checked, you don’t.” Peter explains, wanting to get his point across and hoping you understand where he’s coming from. When you don’t respond and continue looking away, Peter reaches out and quickly pokes you in your side, retracting his hand quickly as you turn around and looking away.

“Peter, what the hell was that for?” You grumble as Peter turns to face you; innocence written all over his face.

“What was what for?” He asks, biting back a smile as you huff under your breath.

“Why did you poke me?” You say pointedly with a glare.

“Me? Poke you? What a rude assumption I would never do anything of the sort.” Peter says dismissively and looks away, sniggering when you reach out to poke him back, his reflexes allowing him to grab your wrist in an instant.

“Cheater.” You say, sticking your tongue out at him as he laughs.

“Got you to look at me though.” Peter grins, watching as you bite your bottom lip to conceal a smile from him. Peter takes the half-smile as an okay to pull you into a hug, he wraps his arms around you, and you mimic his actions, hugging him tightly.

“I just wanna help you.” You mumble, feeling helpless for not being able to assist your brother with his superhero activities.

“I know you do. And you can help me by not helping me. I’ll work so much better out there knowing you’re safe here at home.” Peter replies, poking your side once more, laughing as you jump out of the hug and glare at him despite the smile covering your face.

“But what if you get hurt out there? I could help you.” You insist.

“And risk you getting hurt? I don’t think so.” Peter says, shivering with the thought of every possible thing that could happen to you if you came with him.

“But-”

“Please, just trust me on this. The only thing I’d need you to do while I’m patrolling is just covering for me if May’s home. No trying to come with me. Just staying home and covering for me. Can you do that?” Peter says, interrupting you as his eyes search yours as you sigh heavily.

“Only if you promise to update me during and after your patrols.” You say, holding your hand out in offering.

“Alright, deal.” Peter replies, taking your hand and shaking it with a smile. Just before you can reply, you hear May calling up the stairs for the both of you, wondering where you both are.

“Get changed, I’ll cover for you.” You say with a wink, getting up and unlocking his door, opening the door wide enough so you could squeeze out before closing the door behind you.

Peter stayed true to his word and updated you as often as he could while on patrol and whenever he got back, he would fill you in on what happened between his last message and him getting home. You always stayed up so you could hear these stories, eager to hear what Spider-Man got up to and what criminals he fought that night. Despite this, you still wished that you could help. During the night as you waited for Peter to return from patrol, you started sketching costume ideas for what you’d like if you had Peter’s powers and joined him on patrols. You always hid them, not wanting Peter to find them because you were sure you’d die of embarrassment at him seeing them before he even got the chance to lecture you about wanting to join him on patrols.

One night, you fell asleep while waiting for Peter, exhausted by your long school day, and hanging out with your friends. You had fallen asleep just after finishing a new costume design idea and had left it on your desk instead of tucking it away in a drawer like usual due to how tired you were. Peter climbed through his window, landing quietly in his room so he can change into something comfy before heading to your room.

“y/n/n, I’m back. Some pretty crazy stuff went down since my last text.” Peter says quietly as he opens your door, stopping in the doorway when he sees you curled up on your bed fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb you, Peter goes to turn around and head back to his own room but stops in his tracks when he sees the paper on your desk. Curiosity got the better of him as he reached out and gently grabbed the paper and held it in the light of the hallway. He couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face at the sight of the messy sketch. You weren’t an artist by any means, but it was clear enough of what you were drawing. Peter brought the sketch back into his room and decided to do something for you. Peter sat down at his desk and opened one of his spare notebooks, grabbing a pencil and setting your sketch down beside it as reference. Not many people knew this about Peter, but he liked to draw, he never did it often and never in front of other people. Usually, he’d just doodle things in the margins of schoolwork or in notebooks so trying to draw and do justice to your ideas was what felt like a mammoth task for Peter, after all, he never took art classes he just drew as a hobby. He sketched out your outfit idea, making sure it matched your own drawing and added colour. He took his time with it, wanting to make sure it was perfect. When he was satisfied with his drawing of your costume, he decided to be a little big-headed and add Spider-Man into the picture and when he was done, he scribbled a couple of words in the corner before smiling to himself, satisfied with his work. He then returns to your room, placing both his and your drawings on the desk, and sent a small smile in the direction of your sleeping form.

“Sleep well, y/n/n.” He whispers gently before closing your door and heading back to his own room to get some sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you stretched and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You looked around your room and noticed two pieces of paper on your desk and you were confused, only remembering having placed one piece of paper there the night before. You cross to your desk, picking them up, one of them was your own sketch of your costume design and the other was an entirely new drawing, one that depicted your ideas alongside Spider-Man that had a smile covering your face as your eyes flicked to the words written in the corner.

‘Spider-Man has a cool sidekick, but I’ll let you in on a secret. Peter Parker has an even cooler one because no superhero alter ego could be cooler than y/n Parker.’

#justabigassnerd #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #the amazing spider man #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x sister!reader #x sister!reader #peter parker x sister!reader #andrew!spiderman #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader

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griffintail · 3 years

Text

The Sister’s Return

Summary: (Y/N) has reunited with her family with Dream’s looming threat...

Pairings: SBI x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Minor Fight scene, mentions of blood, mentions of past manipulation and present manipulation

A/N: This is a part two to The Sister’s Happiness

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

(Y/N) hesitated outside the tundra home as Techno went up to the house first.

“You promise he’s not mad?” (Y/N) whispered to Tommy.

“He…was mad for a while,” Tommy admitted. “We all were. It took us all a little while after…what he did to me to forgive you.”

A crow swooped into the window as Techno looked at the younger pair as Ghostbur hummed floating into the house.

“Phil! We found little note!” Ghostbur announced, making (Y/N) wince hearing her brother’s old nickname for her.

“Play the song again please Wilbur?” The twelve-year-old girl begged as Wilbur looked down at his guitar.

“Mmh, only if you sing it with me. My throat’s getting tired.”

It was a lie. He just liked singing with his less annoying youngest sibling.

“Ok.”

“Here we go little note.” He smiled, giving a small strum to his guitar.

“Even if he was mad, you can’t hide now.” Tommy huffed, following after.

(Y/N) looked down at Fran, who had followed them all the way, before walking up to the house with shaky legs. Before she even got to the door, Phil came out, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re ok.” Phil laughed quietly before coming over and taking her shoulders gently as she froze. “I’m so sorry angel. I-I should have been there and I’m sorry.”

“Daddy’s girl.” Tommy mocked from the top of the stairs.

He really hadn’t changed after everything.

“It’s ok Phil, I should be saying sorry, I—”

“No, it’s alright. Let’s get you inside.” Phil told her, looking around the area before putting a hand on her shoulder.

He led her in now, Fran trotting in behind them. Once the door closed, (Y/N) had a feeling she hadn’t felt since she had been with…Dream. She…felt at home…

Ghostbur floated as he hummed, taking some potions off a brewing stand as Techno rested his axe on the wall next to the door as he went to stop Tommy, who was already digging through his chests. Phil went to help with potion brewing as (Y/N) stood there.

She felt like a stranger though.

“Just because I’m letting you back in my house, does not mean you can dig through my things.” Techno scolded Tommy as he pulled him away.

“Come on blade. If I’m going to help, I need some gear.”

“You have your own gear and Dream’s gear!”

“Technically Tubbo has half his gear!” Tommy pointed at him.

“Come on Techno, don’t you want to help your favorite siblings?” (Y/N) grinned motioning to a sixteen-year-old Tommy, who put an arm around her.

“Yeah, big man! Just a few things for the poor?” Tommy motioned to a fifteen-year-old (Y/N).

Techno rolled his eyes at his siblings' shared mischievous grins. He knew he should have hung out with (Y/N) more, Tommy had been too much of an influence on her.

“You think there will be a fight?” (Y/N) asked, everyone, looking at her.

“Yes.” Phil nodded. “I got a message that…he wasn’t very happy you were moving on without him around.”

“You can say his name. It doesn’t affect me as much anymore.” (Y/N) told him quietly.

“Good because Dream is a bastard and we’re going to beat him again.” Tommy cheered. “The Sleepy Bois and their little sister are back!”

(Y/N) smiled lightly and Tommy froze slightly, surprised by the smile. “Yeah, we are back.”

Tommy stood there before grinning as he came over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah! Look out bitches!”

“Fucking pricks.” (Y/N) followed suit.

“We’ll show them who’s the best!”

“And have whatever we want!”

(Y/N) actually gave a laugh after they recited the bit they always use to do. Tommy was grinning widely. He had missed his sister.

“Fuck yeah!” He punched the air.

“Alright you little bastards, get your gear somewhere you can get to it quickly,” Techno told them.

“I got an ender chest in my old room, come on.” Tommy let go of (Y/N) before sliding down the ladder.

She followed after him, Fran making home next to the fireplace.

“We’re not going to actually make (Y/N) fight with us, are we?” Phil asked, not wanting his youngest to be around the masked man again.

“No. Ghostbur,” Techno said, the ghost zoning back into the conversation.

“Yes, Technoblade?” Ghostbur smiled.

“Why don’t you tell (Y/N) what you remember? She hasn’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh yes! That’s a very good idea Technoblade!” He nodded before following after the younger pair.

“You got crows scouting?” Techno asked.

“I’m not idiot Techno.” Phil gave a joking scoff. “I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

“Good. Then let’s get ready.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow around the odd room as Tommy went to the ender chest, pulling out a few pieces of gear.

“So, this is where you went when you went missing.” (Y/N) muttered.

Tommy paused, gripping the edge of the chest lightly. “Please don’t talk about that.”

“Oh shit.” She put her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry Tommy. I—Shit.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t do anything during that time it was all Dream,” Tommy said, putting his armor and weapons on his bed. “We just need to be able to read each other again too I suppose.”

“Well…after everything you still seem like you so I don’t think that will be too hard.” (Y/N) tried to lighten the tone.

“I’ve changed a lot! I’m a bigger man.” Tommy crossed his arms at his sister.

“Sure.” She teased.

“Alright, listen here you prick.” Tommy started until Ghostbur floated down.

“(Y/N)! We haven’t talked in so long, we should talk.” Ghostbur said to her excitedly.

“I uh. Sure. If you want to Ghostbur, I just…” She looked at Tommy’s gear. “We got a thing to possibly do.”

“Well, if it’s only possible we have some time.” Ghostbur grinned as he took her hand, making her shiver at the cold contact.

“Oi. Ghostbur, let her get her things first.” Tommy told off the ghost.

“Oh, ok. Get your things.”

(Y/N) went into the ender chest, taking out her armor, bow, and sword.

“Is that your old bow?” Tommy looked at it surprised.

“Yeah…I put a mending enchant on it before we got your discs back.” (Y/N) grinned. “So, it’s still in action.”

“…I think it will be perfect for fighting Dream with again.”

She paused before nodding; the grin still wide on her face. “I think so too. We’ll fuck up his shit again.”

Tommy nodded, deep in thought for a minute.

“Hey, Ghostbur, wait up there for her, she’ll be there in a minute,” Tommy told the ghost.

“Ok!”

He floated up the ladder again and Tommy shifted awkwardly for a moment.

“Did you…did you like doing all that stuff with him?”

(Y/N) gripped onto the bow, taking a shaky breath.

“I thought I did. I told myself I did…but every time I saw your face…I hated it. But he told me…he told me it was for the better and I believed him.”

“We’re what’s best for you because you’re our family, and don’t forget it, alright prick?” Tommy crossed his arms, looking away.

“Thanks, Tommy.” She smiled lightly. “I won’t.”

She went to leave but he stopped her again.

“Hey, if you…want to talk about it too, I get it,” Tommy said quietly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded.

Then she finally went up the ladder, Tommy passing through the room quickly to go to the main room, and Ghostbur held out a piece of blue to her the second she got up.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She took it.

“There’s so much to talk about! Techno said we should talk about what I remember. I remember a few things about you!” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “You use to sing music for me and I wouldn’t make fun of you for being a child because you could be really mature.”

“Oh…you don’t remember a lot of things?” She asked, sitting.

“No, but that’s ok. I remember a lot of happy things!”

“So…you don’t remember Dream and me?”

“Mmh, I remember thinking about how nice it was to see you next to Dream when we were making L’Manberg, even though I thought about how unhappy you looked.”

(Y/N) stared at the wall as she stood to the back of the group. Wilbur was at the top, looking down at her in shock and she looked away.

“I would like to know though Dream, how you managed to get my little sister on your side.”

“She saw past your stupidity.” Dream answered simply.

He’ll just use you for power.

Dream’s voice echoed in her head, making her jaw clench.

“Alivebur didn’t think you and Dream were very good friends. He often scolded Tommy if he brought it up.” Ghostbur hummed, before whispering to her. “Dream is a bit of a bad guy.”

“Yeah…yeah, he is Ghostbur. That’s why me and him aren’t friends.”

“Oh, that’s a shame, but now you can hang out with us again!”

(Y/N) thought about the times she had caught Wilbur’s glare across a battlefield or simply across the open area. She had thought he hated him but had he suspected something was wrong?

…

“She’s a bitch now! Fuck her!” Tommy shouted at Wilbur.

“Don’t say that about her Tommy.” Wilbur snapped. “She…looks so unhappy. Dream holds too much power, we can’t get to her easy, we need to figure something out to get to her.”

…

“What the hell did you guys let happen to (Y/N)?” Techno motioned to above the ravine where Pogtopia was stationed.

They had just run and his own little sister had just tried to hunt them down with the rest of the mob of Manberg citizens. Her downfall though was Techno had taught her himself. Yet, there was just such a cold look in her eyes…

“She did it to herself.” Tommy scoffed.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to talk to her in a few years. I can’t get her alone no matter what I tried, that’s not the problem right now.” Wilbur paced.

Techno thought it was a huge fucking problem though and decided he needed to figure out what was going on, on his own.

…

Techno heard the crow before it flew through the window. It gave a flap of its wings to Phil and Phil nodded, looking outside.

“He’s close by.”

The pair had managed to get (Y/N) alone and they had seen through the façade when they talked to her and tried to subtly get it out of her. They thought they could get another chance when she left but then Butcher Gang came and Dream visited Techno’s home.

Sure, they had been mad about her betraying their trust by telling people where Techno’s home was but when Tommy came to them, they weren’t mad for long. They were the first to understand what must have happened to her as well.

Phil put on his last bit of armor as Tommy came up to them, paling slightly.

“He’s here already?”

“He’s close.” Techno nodded. “Get ready, we’re not taking (Y/N).”

Tommy hesitated but nodded. He didn’t want Dream near his sister again. As the young boy put all his gear on, Techno picked up his axe with his crossbow on his back and Phil grabbed his own bow. He managed his gear on when Techno saw Dream walking through the snow.

“Let’s go.” Techno nodded.

The three went out, weapons at the ready and Dream grinned behind his mask.

“Sorry Dream. I don’t do charity cases for the homeless, gonna need you to leave.” Techno told him, shouldering his axe.

“Are we really going to go through this again Techno? Are you going to talk to your voices again too?” Dream laughed. “I know you have what I want. So, either, send her out now, or I’ll kill all of you.”

“You can try, you green bastard, but I finished you once! I’ll do it again!” Tommy shouted.

“But here I am Tommy! You can’t stop me. I got out of prison and now here I am. Back again!” Dream took a step forward and Phil aimed his bow. “You won’t, no, you can’t kill me, Tommy. Come on, we were friends, weren’t we?”

Techno put the axe in front of his brother as Phil shot the arrow in front of Dream when Tommy’s breathing picked up slightly.

“You’re not getting anyone today,” Phil told him. “So, we’re going to give you one chance to say you failed and leave.”

Dream merely smirked behind his mask before going straight for Techno. With ease, Techno blocked the sword with his arm, the sword sparking on his armor before Techno swung his axe right for Dream’s side and the masked man jumped back.

“A fight it is then.” Techno grinned, the voices going into a chant.

Tommy pulled his sword and Phil switched for his sword as well. The fight was on.

…

“What else do you remember?” (Y/N) asked the ghost. “About…me.”

“You were an awful lot like Tommy but you could calm down and be little note with me.” Ghostbur smiled. “It was always nice seeing you and Tommy play together though. And when you two become friends with Tubbo, it was meant to be really. It always made Alivebur smile and it makes me smile too!”

“It seems a lot of things make you smile though Ghostbur.” She laughed quietly.

“But there’s so many wonderful things we get to do and see!”

(Y/N) smiled lightly. Ghostbur seemed to be all the good things about Wilbur…but she missed the bad stuff of her brother…

Both the ghost and she jumped though when they heard the sound of fireworks.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Ghostbur muttered, taking out a piece of blue.

(Y/N) leapt up, as she now could hear the cawing of the crows and metal on metal. Dream was here!

“Shit, shit, shit.” She panicked, throwing her armor on.

“(Y/N),” Ghostbur mumbled.

She looked at the ghost of her brother as she put her helmet on. A panic was in her eyes but there was the spark of a fire that brought good memories to Ghostbur. Memories of when she’d practice sword fighting and archery with Technoblade or when she’d scream at Tommy’s bullies or when she was taking lessons with Alivebur to learn guitar. He smiled lightly as he saw the real (Y/N) that had been missing.

“I love you.”

“…I love you too Ghostbur.” She gave a light smile before grabbing her one arrow, sword strapped to her side.

She got outside to see Techno loading his crossbow with another firework as Tommy was dodging a sword swing from Dream who had a cracked mask with slightly singed clothing while Phil was dashing to go in for a low blow. Everyone had minor wounds as armors had dents and scratches. (Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat as she gripped onto her bow before raising it.

“I never throw away my shot.” She muttered before letting the arrow fly.

It caught Dream’s mask and it flew off his mask. (Y/N)’s arrow reappeared on the bow as she pulled back, her infinity enchantment doing its work to bring her arrow back as though it was never gone even though it pinned Dream’s mask to the ground.

“STOP!” She commanded.

“(Y/N)!” Dream grinned ducking from Tommy’s sword swing before knocking the boy down, winding him as he parried Phil’s attack, pushing the older man back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been my friend?”

“Drop your sword!” She demanded.

“(Y/N), come on. It’s me, Dream.” He smiled.

She clenched her jaw as Techno looked between the pair as the other two of her family stayed where they were. Then she changed the direction of her bow and it snagged his pant leg, pinning the fabric to the ground as another arrow appeared in her bow.

“Leave my family alone.” She told him.

“Your family?” Dream laughed. “They haven’t tried to talk to you in almost three years! Now, they thought they had power over the two of us because I was locked away; they tried to use you! I broke out to save you.”

His voice was creeping back into the back of her mind as she gripped onto her bow.

“YOU BASTARD!” Tommy’s voice broke through the voice of Dream.

Dream hissed as Tommy snagged a weak point in his armor, drawing blood.

“How dare you say I’d use my sister!” He shouted, pushing the man back, jumping back as Techno quickly aimed his crossbow.

Dream dove out of the way as the firework went off where he had been.

“I won’t let you use my sister like a puppet.” Techno put his crossbow away to replace it with his axe.

An arrow landed in front of Dream’s face and (Y/N) pointed her bow to the ground.

“I never miss, so take the friendly warning. Leave and never speak to me again. Leave this land.”

“You…you can’t…” Dream gave a laugh.

“She can do whatever she wants mate,” Phil said, all three of them standing in front of (Y/N). “And you’ll have to go through us to even think about her. I suggest you leave.”

“You’ll regret this.” Dream spat at them before getting up and ender pearling away.

A weight was gone as (Y/N) teared up when the three looked over at her.

“Oh dear, you need some blue.” Ghostbur came out now and gave the girl a piece of blue.

“Thank you.” She sniffled wiping away her tears.

Tommy came over putting an arm around one side of her shoulders as Techno went on the other side as Phil put a hand on her head.

“We won!” Tommy cheered.

She had missed her family…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #sbi x reader #tommyinnit x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #ghostbur x reader

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Siblings (2)

Alright, Here is the addition to the first post I made about Marinette having a somewhat of a similar backstory to Jason.

[Masterlist]

WARNING: the Revenge part have some suicide, death, physical abuse and bullying stuff mentioned. Extreme Lila Bashing.

--------

Marinette runs a business called Afterlife (I am bad with names, gimme a break) with Wayne Enterprise as a partnership. She is the mysterious designer MT.

Jagged knows about Marinette and the whole LB thing after one scare and an explanation and promotes it a lot.

The Waynes can’t believe that she knew Jagged Stone.

So Afterlife brand is taking off and is the hottest new thing since Jagged is wearing it and MT is apparently the mysterious newly adopted Wayne who hasn’t appeared in public much and the family’s personal designer.

Loads of Celebrity commissions.

Gabriel loses sales as the new line they launched ‘coincided’ with the launch of Afterlife’s newest fashion line called Karma.

I should mention that Edna Mode(?) and Audrey Bourgeois gave many praises to MT because they are amazing designs and to spite Gabriel a little bit.

Gabriel doesn’t panic yet. A lie

I haven’t talked about Lila much, have I? Let’s just say she got a visit from a ghost, well, several ghosts.

Remember that guy Marinette mentioned that could get her fake documents. It was John Costantine, who owes her a favor ( he owes her more than a few and he would do anything she asked for her brownies. )

Tim and Babs dig up dirt on Lila Rossi and their silence was brought with a delicious cake.(coffee flavored for Tim)

Gets John to do a little summoning for her.

------

(Suicide implied, death, bullying, You have been warned)

“~Lila~. ~Oh Lila~”

Lila turned to her other side, wishing the voice would shut up.

“Oh, Lie-la, sleeping so peacefully. So silent. I wish you would stay that way forever.” The voice said menacingly.

Lila’s eyes snapped wide open to come face-to-face with supposed to be dead Marinette Dupain-Cheng with a manic look. Did Marinette had red eyes before?

Lila screamed.

“Oh, it’s no use. No one will hear you. Remember when you said those words. To poor Bianca. Every day at lunch break in the old unused bathrooms when you beat her up for not doing as you say.”

A girl with long dark hair appeared. Covered in black and blue bruises. Looking at Lila with hate.

“Let’s not forget. Poor Tommy. Alex. Andrea. Wil. Gary. Nico. Freya. Magnus. Della…” As Marinette listed off names, more and more teens appeared, the youngest being a 10 year old girl.

They all had the same expression as Bianca. Utter hatred.

“And there is me. The latest in your long line of victims. Lie-la, how do you feel right now, looking at the casualties of your greed for fame and fortune? Your ‘enemies’. And you know that English saying, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’.” Marinette gave a sinister laugh.

“You are dead. You were all supposed to be dead. This isn't real. This isn’t real.” Lila chanted, closing her eyes and covering her ears.

She felt cold fingers lifting up her face to meet red eyes, promising many Bad things.

“Sorry, sweetie. This is the cold harsh reality. You thought that you could get away with it. The deaths you caused with your filthy lies and ‘so-call accidents’. You danced on our ashes and you built your kingdom with our blood on your hands. I hoped you enjoyed it while it lasted. ”

The nails dug further into her face, drawing some blood and sure to leave some scars.

“Because, Lila Rossi, this is the last time you would know peace. And could you pass on a message to the Agrestes for me. Tell them that Death cannot hold back the wrath of Ladybug.” Turning to the other ghosts. “Get her.”

Marinette stepped back as the other teens pounced on her. Scratching, pulling, biting. Inflicting pain on Lila. She jumped out the window and landed next to John smoking.

“Thanks for everything. Will she be okay?” Lila’s screams can’t be heard due to a soundproof charm.

“She will wake up in the morning, a little sore thinking it was all a nightmare.”

“That is until she looks into a mirror. I left a little something to remind her that it actually happened. By the way, can you help me with this curse?” She said, pulling out a notebook.

“Let me see. Hmm.. Oh.. that’s a good one. Nice. Wow...You are very creative with curses, remind me to never get on your bad side. But are you sure about that last part?”

“Lila needs a lesson and as much as I hate her and wants her to suffer for the rest of eternity. She doesn’t deserve being tormented for the rest of her life. At least, she should learn that actions have consequences, especially for everything she had done so far.”

“You are too kind despite everything that has happened, Pigtails.”

“Doesn’t mean I am going to give you the resurrection spell I used.”

“You are no fun. You are as bad as Bats.”

--------

Lila’s curse is that she sees her victims when she leasts expects it. Alya, talking about her blog, is replaced with Bianca cracking her knuckles and about to punch Lila. In everyone else, it looked Lila screamed ‘Please don’t hurt me” to a confused Alya.

Lies some more to save face but the more she lies, the more the ghosts keep appearing. Some actually hurt her but there are no bruises or cuts to prove that it happened.

She is just so jumpy all the time and during photoshoots, Adrien gets replaced with a rotting corpse and every picture comes out with fear in her eyes.

Gabriel fires her after a million complaints.

Not before relaying Marinette’s message. “She cursed me. She came into my room and did this to me (pointing to the scars on her face.) She sent my dead classmates after me.”

“Who?”

“Ladybug. She told me to tell you that even Death cannot stop Ladybug’s wrath. So better watch your back, M. Agreste.”

(Gabriel didn’t feel threaten not at all. There is no such thing as ghosts. Sure magic is real with the Kwamis and the Miraculouses as proof. But ghosts? Those are just stories. Lila Rossi just had a nightmare that was too vivid for her. He definitely is not searching Google for warding them off. Especially revenge-seeking ones. He was just looking for inspiration. That MT caused a lot of trouble and sleepless nights for Gabriel but this next line was sure to be a success.) He was wrong.

No matter how many NDAs he made people signed and how much security measures he took. Afterlife seems to hosts fashion shows, launch new lines or their designs made the cover of a famous fashion magazine and SHOWING UP the GABRIEL brand EVERY! SINGLE! TIME!

Gabriel is rarely in the headlines these days and most of the billboards in Paris is filled with products from Afterlife (Chloe as a model with a mask to conceal her identity which adds to a mystery.) or WE.

He is super frustrated and a little desperate.

------

Got any ideas for revenge on Gabriel, Natalie and Adrien? Also the rest of the class?

(Part 3)

#graveyard siblings #lila salt #lila bashing #death tw #bullying #maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc

674 notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

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dccomicsimagines · 3 years

Text

Stalker - Terry McGinnis x Reader

Trigger Warning - Stalker Behavior, Darker Themes

Requested by Anon - Can I request one where Terry finds out his s/o has a stalker?

***

You shivered, standing outside of school. It was a cool spring day. You wished you had worn your jacket, but the sun shining through your bedroom window this morning made you too optimistic about the weather.

“Come on, Ter. Where are you?” you whispered, jumping up and down to warm up a little. The school bell rang. You sighed. “Late again.” You turned around to enter when a warm jacket suddenly wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m not late. Just almost late.” Terry chuckled in your ear. He kissed your cheek before moving ahead to open the door for you.

“For once.” You winked at him, sliding your arms into his jacket. “Come on, we’re going to be late for Literature.”

Terry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What’s the reading we had to do for today?”

“The Yellow Wallpaper.” You sneaked a sniff of his jacket, enjoying his scent. Terry rubbed his eyes and missed it. “I’ll catch you up. We’re just supposed to be in discussion groups.” The two of you strolled down the hall, tempting fate as the final bell was about to ring.

“Lucky I have you, babe. I think I’d have to drop out by now if I didn’t.” Terry wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, still snug in his jacket.

“I doubt that. You’d just actually have to do your homework.” You caught his lips in a quick kiss before you both entered the classroom just as the bell rang.

***

You walked alone to the elementary school to pick up your younger siblings and Terry’s little brother, Matt. Terry’s mom and your parents paid you the big creds to babysit them every day after school. It was actually how you met Terry in the first place.

Terry would usually try to walk with you until you met up with the kids, but today Mr. Wayne needed him earlier than normal. You pulled his jacket closer, only realizing now that you still had it. Oops. You shrugged, smiling to yourself when you got a whiff of Terry from the jacket.

As you neared the elementary school, a shiver ran up your spine when you heard footsteps behind you. “Excuse me,” someone said from behind you. You turned, holding your bag tighter.

It was an older man, maybe mid-forties. He ran up to you. His hair was oily and his face was breaking out in hives. “Can I help you?” you asked. Something felt off about him. You took an involuntary step back when he stopped before you.

“You dropped this.” He held out keychain with a batman symbol on it.

“Oh thank you.” You gasped, holding out your hand. He dropped it into your palm after a pause. “I can’t believe I lost it. It must have broke.”

He nodded, smiling as he stared at you. “You’re welcome.”

You waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Just staring. Your stomach twisted, nerves on end. “Well, I better get going. Thanks again.” You turned and hurried away with your hand clenched around the keychain. Terry had given it to you. You usually had it on your bag. Once you turned the corner and were in front of the elementary school with a crowd of people, you opened your hand to check the keychain.

Your blood ran cold when you saw it wasn’t broken. How would it have fallen off if it didn’t break? You checked your bag, heart pounding when you saw your keychain was still attached. Your thumb ran across the one in your hand, noting it didn’t have the scratches yours had.

“Creepy.” You glanced over your shoulder, relieved that the man wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe it wasn’t as creepy as you were thinking? You swallowed hard and tossed the keychain into the nearby garbage can.

Matt and your siblings ran up to you, chattering away. You gathered them up and led them toward home. However, the entire way, you felt you were being watched.

***

“What’s wrong?” Terry frowned at you, noting how you clung to his arm as the two of you slowly stepped onto the tram.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You let go of his arm, crossing your arms tightly. Terry led you over to a seat.

Terry sighed. He rolled his eyes. “You been like this all week. (Y/N), what’s wrong?” He sat down beside you. You scooted closer to him.

You glanced around nervously. “I’m fine, Ter. I just want to get home.”

“Okay.” Terry frowned and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I just thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

“I do.” You smiled at him. It wasn’t a real smile. Terry kissed your temple. “I’m not feeling all that great today. We can hang out at my house. My siblings are at my grandparents this weekend anyway.”

“That would be great.” Terry felt you relax, closing your eyes as you laid your head against his shoulder. He pushed his worries aside. You probably weren’t feeling well like you said. It was probably nothing. He relaxed himself, keeping you close just in case.

***

You stared at the keychain lying on your doorstep. Your blood ran cold with terror. It was the same batman keychain, brand new, matching the one on your bag. Your siblings were a few feet behind you as you had rushed ahead to quickly get into your house where you were safe. Clearly, it wasn’t safe anymore.

“Wow, a batman keychain,” Matt said, moving around you to pick it up.

“Hey (Y/N), it matches yours,” your sibling said, giggling.

“Terry must have left it.” Matt made a face. “Gross.”

“Yeah, he must have.” You painted a fake smile on your face and took the keychain from Matt. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll let you have whatever you want for a snack.”

The kids cheered and rushed inside once you unlocked the door. You hurried after and slammed the door shut, clicking the lock. The feeling of uneasiness didn’t leave you.

***

“Terrance!” Bruce’s voice echoed through Terry’s ears. He jerked the batmobile into a climb to avoid crashing straight into a building.

“Okay, okay. We’re fine.” Terry chuckled nervously, shaking his head.

“If you crash it, you buy it.” Bruce growled. “Pay attention!”

Terry cleared his throat, turning to fly the batmobile for another lap of the city. He flew over your house and scanned the place. Everything was fine. However, the light in your room was still on. Terry glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. “Bruce, I’m going to make a quick stop.”

“This is no time for social calls.” Bruce’s voice sharpened.

“How about you keep an ear on the police scanner like you always do and let me know if I need to go anywhere?” Terry smirked when Bruce huffed and clicked off. “Got ya.” He flew out of the batmobile and glided toward your house. Terry balanced himself on the sill of your window.

You were in bed with the covers pulled over your head. Terry opened your window silently and stepped inside. “(Y/N).” You sat up suddenly and screamed at the sight of him. Terry’s eyes widened. He pulled off his mask. “Honey, it’s me. Hush.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, gasping for breath. The blood drained out of your face. Terry swore, shutting the window behind him and ducking into the closet as your family tore into the room.

It took several long minutes for your family to leave. Terry waited, hoping Bruce didn’t catch how badly he scared you. He leaned against the wall of your closet. His mask twisted in his fist.

The closet door opened a few minutes after the room went quiet. “I’m sorry.” You hugged him, burying your face into his chest. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Terry kissed the top of your head. “I saw your light was on, so I’d thought I would stop by.”

You jerked away from him, blood draining out of your face. “No, no, no,” you whispered, running to the window and quickly shutting the curtains.

Terry rushed to your side. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He laid a hand on your shoulder. “Why are you so scared?”

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes. Terry felt like he got punched in the gut. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please just hold me.” You hugged him so tight, he thought he might bruise.

“Okay, okay.” Terry hugged you back. He gently rocked you, still confused and concerned. Part of him wanted to demand you to explain, but seeing how upset you were, he couldn’t do it. So he let it go and held you until you fell asleep.

Terry gently tucked you into bed and turned off your light. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out the window, making sure to shut it securely behind him. “Bruce, you there?”

“Are you ready to get back to work?” Bruce’s tone edged toward scolding. Terry rolled his eyes.

“I am.” He wanted to talk about your strange behavior, but he stopped himself. Bruce doesn’t know anything about relationships anyway. He’d be no help. Terry rocketed into the sky to catch the batmobile as it went by on autopilot.

***

“Terry!” Max ran through the hall, bumping people out of the way to reach him. Terry turned to look at her, alarmed. “Come quick!”

“Where?” Terry grunted when Max grabbed his sore arm and tugged him down the hall. Max was leading him toward the school’s office. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s (Y/N). We were outside for gym class and they collapsed.” Max panted. It was only at that moment that Terry realized Max was in her gym clothes. Bruce was right, his detective skills really did need work.

His blood ran cold. “Collapsed? Are they okay?!” Max led him into the nurse’s office. Terry ran ahead and opened a curtain to find you shaking, gasping for breath as you curled up into a ball on the bed. The school nurse seemed lost. “(Y/N), sweetheart, I’m here.” Terry sank down beside the bed, wrapping his arms around you.

You looked at him, pupils dilated, eyes wide. “I...I...can...can’t breathe.” Tears ran down your cheeks.

“(Y/N), you need to calm down. Breathe with me.” He took a slow deep breath, looking you in the eye as he rubbed your back. You struggled at first, but eventually you slowed your breathing down with his. Terry could feel your heart calming down.

The school nurse said something about getting you some water and a snack, leaving you, Terry, and Max alone. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning over to bury your face into Terry’s shoulder.

Terry shared a look with Max. “Okay, (Y/N). Something is clearly wrong. You got to tell us and don’t say it’s nothing,” Max began, sitting on foot of the bed. You pulled away from Terry, sniffling and grabbing a tissue from the box nearby. Terry took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“Okay, alright.” You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath. “I think I have a stalker.”

Terry’s stomach dropped as ice cold horror washed over him. “What?!” You flinched at his tone. Max glared at him, poking him.

“Calm down, Ter. Let (Y/N) explain.” Max turned back to you. “Why do you think you have a stalker?”

The nurse came back with water and a packet of crackers. She smiled when she saw you were calm. “Eat and drink, we’ll see how you feel. Terry and Max, you can stay with (Y/N). I’ll let your teachers know.” You took a sip of water once the nurse left again.

“Slag it. (Y/N), tell us what happened.” Terry’s hands shook. You looked at him, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. It started a month ago...”

“A month? This has been going on for a month?!” Terry got to his feet. The terror going straight to his head.

“Terry, sit down and shut up.” Max punched his arm. Terry flinched before forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

You blinked back tears. “I...It started when I was walking to the elementary school to pick up the kids. You weren’t with me, Ter. Mr. Wayne needed you that day. I felt like someone was watching me and then someone ran up behind me. It was an older man. He handed me a batman keychain like the one you gave me, Ter, and I thought it was mine. I thanked him, but he just stared at me.” You shivered. Terry wrapped his arm around you, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. “It creeped me out, so I left. It was then I realized that the keychain wasn’t mine. It was brand new and my keychain was still on my bag.”

Max and Terry tensed. “That is creepy,” Max whispered, reaching out to pat your hand.

“I threw it away, but I felt like I’ve been watched ever since.” You swallowed hard. Rogue tears slipped down your cheeks. Terry wiped them away with his thumb. “More keychains keep popping up wherever I go. There was even one on my front doorstep. I’m so scared all the time. That’s why I screamed when you visited me last night, Ter. I thought someone was breaking in to get me.” Your entire body trembled. “Even during gym class, there was one in my spot on the bench. That’s why I freaked out.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Terry soothed, pushing down his anger and terror. It wouldn’t help you.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I was hoping it was nothing, but it’s not. It can’t be.” You burst into tears again. Terry pulled you into his chest, sharing another look with Max.

“I’ll go see if I can find the keychain outside,” Max whispered to Terry. She slipped out of the room.

Terry sighed. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N). I’ll protect you. Whoever this is, they won’t get you.”

You grabbed at his jacket tightly. “Okay.” You sniffled. “Do you think they’ll let me go home? I just want to be home now, Ter.”

“I’ll go ask if I can take you home.” He pulled away from you. “Just relax.” You settled down on the bed, drinking the water the nurse brought you.

Terry clenched his hands into fists. His heart burned at the thought you were in danger and he didn’t even notice. Something bad could have happened because he didn’t get the answer to your strange behavior before. He swallowed hard, going to the school nurse to talk about being able to take you home. Hopefully, Max will find that keychain for him before he left. It was time for him to use his detective skills. You needed him to.

***

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, walking over to Terry as Terry stared at the batcomputer. Terry was running scans on the keychain Max had recovered from the school. He hated to leave you, but Max was with you, helping you watch your siblings and Matt while also keeping you safe.

“(Y/N) has a stalker.” Terry slammed his fist against the computer when the keychain came up with nothing. “Slag it!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Ace barked at him in warning. Terry forced himself to relax, rubbing his chin to think. “What do we know?” Bruce’s tone became more serious. Terry looked up to find Bruce studying the results.

“This is a dead end. The guy didn’t leave anything on the keychain and (Y/N) didn’t keep the others.” Terry sighed. He ran a hand over his face. “There’s got to be a way to catch this dreg before he does something to (Y/N). (Y/N)’s already scared out of their mind.”

Bruce huffed. “You need to think less directly, McGinnis.” He gestured for Terry to get out of the chair. Terry stood up, sighing as Bruce took the seat and started working on the batcomputer. “Do you know where these keychains are sold?”

“I bought (Y/N)’s at the mall. There was a kiosk selling all these retro keychains.” Terry blinked. “Do you think we could hack into the mall’s security footage and see who was buying them?”

Bruce’s mouth twitched into almost a smirk. “Yes.”

“(Y/N) gave me this.” Terry pressed a button to bring up your description of the man you first encountered. “This is the man who gave them the keychain the first time.”

“Interesting.” Bruce hacked into the security and brought up footage of the kiosk. “What day did (Y/N) have the first encounter?”

Terry rubbed his chin. “About a month ago.” He shook his head. “I’m such a dreg for not noticing sooner. They are so scared.”

“Focus, Terrence.” Bruce frowned as the security footage fast forwarded until it stopped when it caught a person buying several batman keychains all at once. “It looks like we found our person.”

“Wait.” Terry leaned forward to study the person. “Oh my god, I know them. They go to our school, but (Y/N) was approached by an old man with the first keychain?”

Bruce hummed. “They probably paid the man to deliver it.” The computer popped up with the person’s school record. “Their name is Tay Diabolos. Seems like they have a shaky school attendance record and their grades are worse than yours.”

“Geez, thanks.” Terry frowned. “But (Y/N) hasn’t had any interaction with them as far as I know. They would have told me if they were being weird.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.” Bruce brought up Tay’s address. “Go to their home, see what you can find. Don’t engage them. We’ll need to do this carefully.” Bruce glared at Terry. Terry just blushed. “I will run more tests on this keychain. My gut is telling me there is something we’re missing.”

“Mine too.” Terry patted Ace’s head before running off to get on his suit. Bruce watched him go. Ace barked, butting his head against Bruce’s leg.

“I know. He’s probably going to make a mess of it.” Bruce scratched Ace’s ear and turned to examine the keychain in ways Terry didn’t even think of.

***

Terry turned on his optical camouflage as he neared the run-down part of Neo-Gotham. He swallowed hard, pushing aside his fear for you. Max already called him to reassure him you were fine, but his stomach was twisted in knots.

He landed on the roof of an old house that must have been built around the time Bruce was young. A smirk pulled at Terry’s lips as he thought that it was probably over a hundred years old.

“Are you at the address yet?” Bruce’s voice suddenly filled his ear. Terry jumped, thankful Bruce wasn’t able to read minds.

“Just arrived.” Terry climbed down and opened the second story window. “I got nothing on my heat scans, so no one is home.”

Bruce grunted. “I told you not to rely on that too much. There are ways to cheat the scan.”

“It’s fine.” Terry looked around the empty room he entered. He went over the door and opened it. The hallway was dirty, covered in beer cans and stains. “Looks like a party house of some sort.”

“I found a micro tracer on the keychain. It’s cheap, only a range of two miles if even.” Bruce hummed. “He was attempting to track (Y/N). Are you sure (Y/N) never kept the keychains?”

“Yeah, they threw them away because it freaked them out. The only one still around is the one we have.” Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you deactivate the tracer?”

Bruce snorted. “Of course.” Terry moved deeper into the house, following the light that peeked under one of the doors. “Remember do not engage, McGinnis. This is recon only.”

Terry didn’t respond as he peeked into the room. His heart spasmed in terror when his eyes fell onto a wall covered in pictures of you. A few were your school photos, but most were taken without your knowledge. Terry touched one that was you walking home with your siblings. “Are you seeing this?”

“This has been going on longer than we thought.” Bruce sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no, no.” Terry’s blood ran cold when he saw strands of your hair pinned to the wall. “The dreg has (Y/N)’s hair.” His hand clenched into a fist, rage pounded into his chest.

“Terrance, calm down. Remember this is recon.” Bruce’s voice was so calm. Terry wanted to snap back at him, but snapping at Bruce never did any good. “Is there any sign of plans?”

Terry shook his head, clearing the red rage from his vision. He let out a slow breath. “No, this looks more like a shrine to (Y/N).” Terry knelt down to access the computer on the floor next to the shrine. One tap, and he gave Bruce remote access.

“It looks like they ordered flowers for (Y/N) tomorrow.” Bruce’s rapid typing filled Terry’s ears. Terry felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s it. I got to go be with (Y/N). This freak is going to do something.” Terry got to his feet. He froze when he heard a door open downstairs. “Slag it. Someone’s home now.”

“Get out of there. I’ll search the computer some more.” Bruce clicked off. Terry shivered, eyeing the shrine of you one more time before slipping out of the window and rocketing into the sky.

***

“Terry, are you sure? Doesn’t Mr. Wayne need you today?” You asked, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you curled up on your couch in your living room. The window curtains were all tightly closed.

“No, he doesn’t, and my mom called the school to get me off today too.” Terry sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here to stay.”

You had stayed home from school once you explained to your parents what was happening. They called the police, but of course, they couldn’t do anything since Tay hadn’t actually done anything. Terry could see the trembling of your hands, how the color drained from your face. This was making you sick.

“Thanks Ter.” You relaxed into him. “I hate this. Why did this person have to do this to me?”

“They’re sick.” Terry bit his lips. “(Y/N), do you know someone named Tay Diabolos?”

You blinked. “Yeah, they go to our school. I had science with them before they got kicked out for mixing cleaners and almost killing the class with the fumes.” You looked up at Terry curiously. “Don’t you remember? I had to go to the hospital with Blade and Zip. We got the worst of it.”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t that when I got you the keychain? I picked you up from the hospital and took you to the mall where we got it from...that’s it!” Terry got to his feet suddenly. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What’s it?” You bit your lip.

“The connection. I was trying to think why. I couldn’t remember why Tay would start doing this.” Terry sank down to kneel on the floor beside you. “That must have been the event to start their obsession.”

“Obsession?” Terry could see the terror wash over you. Right, he didn’t tell you about the shrine he found.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Terry took your hand. “I’ll handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave Terry a weak smile as you squeezed his hand. “Just be careful.”

“Always.” Terry leaned forward to kiss your lips sweetly. For the first time in a long time, you seem relieved.

***

“I think I should fly down there and scare them away from (Y/N),” Terry said as he paced the cave. Bruce and Ace sat by the batcomputer, watching him.

“Ter, you know that will cause more problems. How does Batman know Tay is stalking a classmate? Why is Batman involving himself in a stalker case?,” Max said, eyeing the huge cave around her. It took a long time, but Bruce finally let her into the cave. She wandered over to look at the old costumes display. Bruce eyed her with slight disapproval.

“True.” Bruce stuck his cane out and tapped Terry’s leg.

Terry stopped pacing, crossing his arms. “I was thinking I would confront him as myself.”

“No. That will just make things worse.” Max snapped and turned to look at Terry with wide eyes. “Clearly, Tay was triggered by seeing you with (Y/N). That’s the reason for the keychains. They must have seen you buy one for (Y/N).”

“Then what am I supposed to do?! This is killing (Y/N)! I’m sick and tired of seeing them scared out of their mind!” Terry threw his hands up in the air. Ace barked at him, nervous from his outburst.

“Calm down, McGinnis,” Bruce said sternly, turning around in his chair to study the computer. “We need to go through normal channels. I’ve spoke to Barbara Gordon, she says she can help (Y/N) get a restraining order, but we need evidence first.”

“Aren’t the keychains enough?” Max asked, coming to Bruce’s side to watch the security footage of your house. They had installed it just in case.

Bruce shook his head. “No, (Y/N) threw most of them away. Besides, there is no evidence that Tay gave them the keychains. They covered their tracks well.”

A groan came from Terry as he pulled at his hair. His phone beeped. He picked up the phone once he saw it was you. The sound of your tears met his ear, his blood turned to ice water.

“Terry, there’s a message on our machine,” you whispered. Your voice breaking with a sob. “It’s from Tay. He said he left a present for me outside...”

“It’s okay. Just have everyone stay inside.” Terry ran over to the batcomputer, having to focus to keep his voice calm and even. Max and Bruce watched in concern when Terry had the batcomputer zoom in on the footage of your front step to show another batman keychain lying there.

“Oh my god.” Max gasped. “But we were watching the whole time.”

Bruce hummed, a scowl on his face. He reached over to pet Ace, who was getting jumpy from the energy of the room. “Terry, I can’t live like this anymore,” you said.

“Hush. I’ll take care of it. I swear.” Terry’s heart was ready to pound out of his chest. He wanted to fly over to Tay’s house and beat the life out of him. “Just stay inside. Leave the keychain where it’s at. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” You hung up the phone, but not before Terry heard a full out sob burst out of you.

“I think I have an idea.” Bruce got to his feet and walked over to the workbench to get his pill bottle. Terry stared at his phone, lost in his own tortured imagination. “We need to get Tay off the streets, and the best way to do that is to catch them for another crime.”

“Another crime?” Max put her hands on her hips. “But isn’t harassing (Y/N) enough?”

Bruce grunted. “No. Harassment is messy. It rarely sticks unless you have hard evidence which we don’t have.” Bruce leaned on his cane as he picked up his pills and swallowed them dry.

Terry stuck his phone back in his pocket. “You have a plan I assume?” He ran over to the changing area to switch into his suit.

“I do. From what I seen in the vid from your search of Tay’s home, I saw evidence of slappers.” Bruce walked back to the batcomputer and sat down.

“Oh, so we get Tay for drug possession, which should get them away from (Y/N).” Max grinned. “Sway idea, Mr. Wayne.”

“Yeah, sway.” Terry ran out of the changing area in full Batman mode. He hopped into the batmobile. “Keep me updated on what I need to do, but I have to check on (Y/N) first.” The batmobile zoomed off.

***

After Terry made sure your house was secure and you were calmed down, he followed Bruce’s lead to Tay’s house once again. “What’s your plan?”

“Find evidence of slappers in Tay’s house, make probable cause for the police to enter,” Bruce said firmly. “If we can get Tay on drug possession charges, they can get off the streets and get the help they need.”

“And (Y/N) will finally feel safe again.” Terry rocketed out of the batmobile and landed on the roof of the house next door. “There’s a party going on.” Tay’s house was raging, filling with people drinking, laughing, dancing. Loud music boomed out of the opened windows.

“This might be to our advantage. The noise alone will be probable cause.” Bruce hummed. “But we need to make sure the police find the slapper evidence and connect it to Tay.”

Terry grunted, turning on his optical camouflage and glided toward the house. He slipped through the open window, avoid the people in the room as he slipped through the open door to the hallway. It took him a full minute to get into the room where the shrine was since a couple was making out against it. They finally moved and Terry slipped inside.

Tay was in the room, luckily facing away from the door and didn’t see it seemly open on it’s own. It took every ounce of will for Terry not to rip into them when he saw them adding another photo to the shrine. He paled when it was a photo of your bedroom window, showing you hugging Terry with Terry still clearly in his batsuit.

“Damn,” Terry whispered under his breath. Suddenly, a smirk pulled at his lips. He turned off his camouflage.

“Terry, what are you doing?” Bruce asked sharply.

“Tay Diabolos.” A wave of satisfaction washed over Terry when Tay jerked, turning around in surprise. “I need to have a word with you.”

Tay laughed. “You think I’m scared, Terry McGinnis.” Tay pulled out a gun, aiming it at Terry’s chest. “You aren’t good enough for (Y/N).”

“You think I’m Terry McGinnis?” Terry laughed darkly. “You aren’t very smart, but then again, you wouldn’t be if you can’t notice what you’re doing to (Y/N) is criminal.”

“Don’t mock me!” Tay fired the gun. Terry easily dodged by stepping aside.

“Careful of the civilians around you, Terry. I’ll make an anonymous call to the police,” Bruce said. The slight approval in Bruce’s voice made Terry’s heart soar.

Terry shot out a batarang and knocked the gun from Tay’s hand. “Leave (Y/N) alone.” He marched forward, picking Tay up by the front of their shirt. “If I ever see you even look at them again, I’ll pound you into the pavement. The police would have to take a DNA test to identify your body.”

“You won’t stop me.” Tay spit in Terry’s face. Terry held back a flinch. “I’ll be with (Y/N). I love them more than you ever could, McGinnis.”

Terry grunted and dropped Tay only to throw a quick jab at their jaw. Tay dropped like a pile of bricks.

“Well, you certainly made a mess now.” Bruce’s voice filled Terry’s ears.

“We’ll figure it out. The suit can still be on autopilot mode, right?” Terry took the photo of himself and you and slipped it into his pocket.

Bruce hummed. “Yes, but you’ll need to move fast. The police are incoming.”

Terry grunted, climbing out the window of the room and flying through the air toward your house.

***

“I’m telling you the truth! Terry McGinnis is Batman!” Tay shouted, fighting against the restraints as the cops tried to put him into the car. Barbara put her hands in her pockets and glanced back at Batman who stood a few feet away.

“Right.” Another car pulled up and Terry exited. Barbara smiled. “And how is it he can be in two places at once?”

The blood drained out of Tay’s face as they looked between Terry and Batman. “It’s a trick! He planned this! I’ll get (Y/N) away from you! I swear it!”

“Enough.” The cops pushed Tay into the car and slammed the door to lock him inside.

Barbara patted Terry’s shoulder as Batman suddenly rocketed off into the sky into the waiting batmobile. “Tay won’t be bothering (Y/N) anytime soon. We have enough evidence to keep him in juvie for quite some time.”

“And the evidence for the restraining order?” Terry asked, biting his lip to keep from smirking in delight. The cops drove Tay away. Their shouts could still be heard through the vehicle.

“Being processed. We’ll hand it over to (Y/N)’s lawyer in the morning.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll let you deliver the news to (Y/N).”

“Thanks.” Terry hopped back into the car and drove back to your place.

“So it worked?” Bruce asked through the comlink in Terry’s ear. “And slow down, that’s my car you’re driving.”

Terry laughed. “It worked. Tay looked crazy.” He bit his lip, slowing down a bit. “Did the suit get back to the cave alright?”

“Yes, it just arrived with the batmobile. I’ll shut down autopilot mode.” Bruce hummed. “I assume you’re going to (Y/N)’s.”

“Of course.” Terry’s foot hit the gas again. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

Bruce grunted. “Right.” He hung up bluntly as he always did. Terry shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face.

***

You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. Taking a step outside your front door, you sighed in relief when you weren’t frozen from anxiety.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Terry said, running up the steps to you. You laughed and jumped into his arms.

“Hey yourself.” Terry spun you around. You screamed when he almost toppled down the stairs. “Are you ready for the club?”

“I am.” Your face hurt from how much you were smiling. “I want to dance the night away.”

Terry ran down the stairs with you still in his arms. “Sway, because I’m ready to dance with you all night too.”

“Put me down.” You patted his shoulders. Terry set you down, keeping his arm around your waist. You kissed his cheek as you both started down the street. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Terry smirked at you. His hand squeezed your hip.

You looked into his eyes. “Oh, you know.” The words didn’t dare leave your lips, keeping the fear at bay.

Terry smiled before kissing you passionately on the lips. You melted into him, content and safe in his arms.

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