James Wesley

this is for fun and you should write because you want to . 

if you’re going into your drafts and dreading it, that makes this for work and this is just a hobby . 

i know it can be really awful trying to keep up with everything to maintain relevance but the writing partners who matter won’t care how long you take . 

the writing partners who matter just want to write with you and create something beautiful . 

Coming to terms with Wesley’s death was not easy, not by any means. The man had meant a lot to Wilson; he wasn’t just an underling. Sure enough, he’d be bothered if someone like Francis died but… James Wesley was the closest Wilson ever had to a friend.

Not only that, he was his lover. A man that gave himself so completely to him. Nobody had let Wilson do quite so much to them before James. And the sexual gratification that came from their time together was intense, so much so that after… Wilson couldn’t find it again. He was a lot gentler with Vanessa and, well, the BDSM clubs that he occasionally visited were just too vanilla.

James’ death wasn’t merely an inconvenience. It felt like a personal attack and once Wilson finally found out who was behind it all… oh, how he wanted to kill her. To make her suffer. To do it slowly, over days. Destroy her, little by little. Wilson Fisk wasn’t known for his patience, but he knew that he needed to make his revenge meaningful, rather than quick.

He had been playing around with the cigarette holder he got for James that one Christmas. The man was convinced that Wilson didn’t know, did just about everything to try and cover it up but Fisk wasn’t an idiot. He disliked the idea, sure, but he wasn’t about to try and make him stop outright.

Besides, if anything, that gave him another excuse to punish Wesley.

He shut the damn thing and threw it at a vase, which shattered on impact. He would need to find a replacement, he knew that much. But he wasn’t ready to let someone in like that again.

Eventually, he left the apartment with a loud slam to the front door, deciding to make his way to his private gym to try and clear his head and he was on the way to it when he noticed him.

Sat on a bench, just like that, was James.

Wilson’s heart sped up at the sight of him, but he shook his head: the man was dead. He had buried him. It couldn’t be right. Couldn’t be true. And yet…

“James?”

@prissylittlebitch​

The moment he heard his name, the moment he heard that voice; Wesley froze. It was happening too soon, he wasn’t ready for the confrontation. Because it would be a confrontation. Wilson wasn’t used to feeling such heavy emotion, and James knew that somehow he would be blamed for his own murder. It made sense, he supposed, he had made the decision to seek out Karen Page on his own, and he had laid the loaded gun within her reach. He had, however unintentionally, orchestrated his own demise and Wilson was unlikely to forgive him for that. Still, to hear his own first name spoken by Wilson in public? It had never happened before, and so whatever he had planned to say died on his tongue, eyes wide and expression nothing less than shocked.

Eventually, after a few moments passed in awkward silence between them, Wesley managed to speak. 

“Sir...”

Gingerly, he slid along the bench and gestured for Wilson to join him. Standing up would only invite a response from Wilson and James wasn’t entirely sure that would be wise at this juncture. Sitting, and talking... seemed much safer. Particularly when he didn’t know what he was capable of, himself. He knew he’d been more erratic... colder since his resurrection. The very last thing he wanted was to react to Wilson’s own rage and make the situation worse.

“I realise this... is surprising.” 

  ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀      ⠀ ⠀ “THE DAY THE EIFFEL TOWER WENT BERSERK.”

“And what do you suggest I do now? This is madness!”

“I believe we can be of assistance.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“They’re also serving crepes.”

“Spread out and attack!”

“Why can’t I play with the others?”

“There’s just nothing special about you.”

“Don’t let go of me!”

“We’re all gonna die!”

“Why don’t you shut up?”

“Tell them I’m busy.”

“You know your father is dead, right?”

“Who is this?”

“What do you want?”

“Where have you been for the last twenty years?”

“The others will be here tomorrow.”

  ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ “WE ONLY SEE EACH OTHER AT WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS.”

“What time is it?”

“Your sister is here.”

“She looks nervous.”

“Father’s really dead, isn’t he?”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know…”

“I know everyone blames you for what happened to them, but none of us knows what really happened that day.”

“You have a daughter?”

“You know what I love about funerals? Everything I own is black.”

“I look like death, but I gather that’s appropriate.”

“Even though I hated him, and I tried to prove him wrong, I knew I shouldn’t have run away from home.”

“I spent the next fifty years trying to prove him wrong.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“How could I have been so blind?”

“Goodbye, my love.”

“Lucky for you, I broke into the city morgue and ran an autopsy.”

“Don’t try your witchcraft on me, sister.”

“Were the costumes really necessary?”

“Does anyone wish to say to anything?”

“Those tears aren’t even real.”

“What is this? You some sort of pervert?”

“Can I interest you in destroying the world?”

“Could you really be capable of something great?”

“I wasn’t expecting coffee and cake to go so poorly.”

“Well then, you’re not as smart as you look.”

“Time is running out.”

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Let him go, maybe he’ll get himself killed.”

i hate you | i don’t like you | i don’t care about you | i don’t know you | i know you | i look at you from afar | you’re my friend | you’re my best friend | you’re like family | i care for you | i love you

i want to:

this meme is based on this wonderful positive blog.

It becomes so much more meaningful when you realize that Wesley was Fisk’s first and only friend.

What he was yelling wasn’t just a simple, “He’s my friend and his death upsets me.”

It was an, “I don’t let anyone know me, but he is the only person I let become my closest companion - don’t you people understand how much he means to me?!”

Not only that, but as pointed out by Acacius in their wonderful story “[ hell’s a lonely road ]”, in that moment, Fisk is in so much shock and grief that he yells that Wesley is his friend.

Wesley is his friend.

It must have happened quite a few times before he realized that, no, Welsey isn’t his friend anymore - Wesley was his friend, and from then on, he had to refer to him in the past tense.

Make them cry

“I never loved you.”

“You’re the reason they’re dead!”

“It’s all your fault!”

“Who could ever love you…?”

“You’re so stupid. So weak.”

“Just go away. I don’t want you here.”

Blackmail them

“Who would’ve thought a sweet thing like you would have such a secret?”

“I’ll tell everyone. Scream so loud the country will hear.”

“I have a friend with a radio station, you know. Broadcast it all over the city.”

“If you want this back, you’ll do whatever I say!”

“Be a good little slave, you don’t want your secret out, do you?”

“I know everything. I can ruin you.”

“Beg me, and I might consider keeping my mouth shut.”

Interrogate them

“Sing, birdie.”

“I know exactly how to make you talk.”

“You know some fascinating things, don’t you?”

“I’ll use your greatest weaknesses against you, and you know I know them all.”

“I have means of extracting information from you.”

“I might play with you a little longer after you’ve talked. You’re too cute.”

“You’re tough. But I’ll break you.”

Yell at them

“You idiot! You dumbass! You- you fucking moron!”

“You’re absolutely useless, aren’t you?!”

“What the fuck have you done this time!”

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”

“You’re not human! You’re a monster!”

“You’re a disgusting little rat!”

“You’ve fucked up for the last time!”

Physically hurt them

“What, can’t take a punch?”

“I’ll kill you!”

“It’s only a scratch, asshole!”

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot you!”

“I’ll slit your damn throat!”

“Kiss my shoes or I’ll stomp your head in half.”

“I didn’t mean to draw blood, but oh well.”

“That’s going to bruise.”

Torture them… gently

“You want some of this cake? C’moooon, beg for it!”

“Guess what? SURPRISE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!”

“Tickle-tickle-tickle! Kitchy kitchy koo!”

“Whaaaat? Is this yours? You can’t have it back, it’s mine now!”

“I’ll stop singing when hell freezes over!”

“Get in the locker, shorty!”