#i mean im sure people are not that cold waving off an old doctor but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta.

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up.

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?”

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow.

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

hope you liked it! xxx

238 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

@theghostof-myndi I'm so sorry this has taken such a long time to write! I hope it was worth the wait, though!💛💛💛

Are You Paid To Say That?

Kevin Richter (Trapped In Silence) x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, mental illness/challenges

A/N: Im really sorry if this isn't as good as you were expecting, I find the characters quite difficult to write, but I've tried my best. I wasn't really too sure where to take this, so I hope thinks ok.💛💛

Masterlist

"How're things going with Kevin?" I inquire as I walk with Jennifer out of the building, pulling my coat tighter around my body as the icy winter air surrounds us, biting at my heated skin.

"Well, I thought they were going well, but he had another outburst today, so I think we might've been set back a bit." The shrink admits to me, adjusting the box in her arms, making the bits and bobs inside clatter against each other.

"Another outburst? How come?" I frown a bit, knowing that this particular patient can be violent at the best of times, concerned now for the older woman's safety.

"I'm not entirely sure this time. We were talking about meeting more people his age, when he mentioned something about seeing a girl around here...hang on, how old are you?" She asks, looking over at me curiously.

Lifting an eyebrow, I quickly respond.

"I'm seventeen."

Realisation seems to dawn on her face as she hears this, knowing that there are, in fact, no other younger workers in the institute, and definetly none that work with the more challenging patients.

"What?" I question when she continues to start at me in amazement.

"I think he was talking about you, (Y/n)." Jennifer reveals, frowning to herself as if thinking something over in her head.

"About me? He doesn't even know who I am, and I don't think he's ever seen me before." I protest, thinking back to the fragile, highly volatile boy currently residing in the Quiet Room.

"Maybe, but the description he gave matches you pretty well." She informs me, smiling gently at the look of genuine shock on my face, "I'll ask him more about it tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you." I respond, not knowing quite how to react to this information, waving a little as she walks off to her car, leaving me standing in the cold to mull over what I've heard.

Jennifer's hurried footsteps echo through the corridor as she approaches me, eyes intent on me, clearly needing to say something to me, prompting me to break off the conversation with the security guard I was having so that I can greet her. When she sees this, she speeds up a bit, hair blowing past her face with an air of importance.

"I was right, (Y/n), it is you that he meant." She blurts out as she reaches me, eyes filling with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy as she regards me.

"What do you mean? Who are we talking about?" I ask her, though I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"Kevin. I showed him a picture of you and he took it from me. He seemed pretty attached to it, and went ballistic when I asked him for it back." She informs me, leading me away from our original spot, back the way she came.

"Kevin? Are you sure? I might just look like someone he knows." I try to reason, feeling a dull sense of fear as she drags me down the corridor, my eyes wide at the idea of going to see the troubled boy.

"Oh, I don't think so, (Y/n). He's drawn out pictures of everyone he want to remember, and I've spoken to the remaining members of his family: there is no way you just remind him of someone. I've been working with him for a while now, I know his habits." She clarifies, leading me down a more secluded corridor, towards the main office, at which point my fear fades into curiosity.

"Are you sure?" I ask one last time, looking away guiltily when she sends me a pointed glance, "Sorry, you know better than I do. Where are we going?"

"Right here." She gestures with a smile to the door we've stopped outside of, knocking just below the sign determining the owner of the room: the head of the institute.

Eyeing her curiously, I remain silent as we wait for him to respond, following her hesitantly when his voice sounds from behind the door. Respectfully, I stand just by the door as she goes inside completely, waiting there as she speaks with Dr Tomlinson, staying quiet as I let the older members talk with each other.

"Jennifer? What do you need?" The doctor greets her, sending a cursory glance at me, before returning his eyes to her.

"I want someone to help me with Kevin's case." She states, excitement creeping into her voice at the thought, clearly eager to keep up with the therapy.

"You do?" Dr Tomlinson looks surprised, eyes widening at her words, my own quickly fixing on the back of Jennifer's head.

"I do. I think it could really help him socialise better, and he'd get to speak to someone other than me for once." She nods enthusiastically, smiling to herself, as if aware of somehow we're not at liberty to know.

"Ok. I guess I can ask around, though I doubt many people are rave enough-" The doctor starts, only to be cut off by Jennifer, who is shaking her head at his words.

"No, don't worry about that. I already have someone in mind." Confusion and curiosity flood me at this, my mind instantly trying configure out who she could be talking about.

"Oh? And who is that?"

"Well, it's (Y/n) of course."

It takes everything I have not to faint.

"Don't worry, (Y/n), you'll be fine. He's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be." Jennifer reassures me as we get ready to enter the therapy room.

Trembling in nerves, I shift from foot to foot as I think through what I'm about to do, well aware that this is only the second case I've ever worked on, and that he doesn't have the greatest reputation. On our way over, Jennifer had given me a rundown of what she knows of his backstory and old living conditions, explaining that she had managed to get him to talk and communicate, but also that he is highly volatile at times, my trepidation and dread just building up the closer we get to the room. Now that we're here, a cold sweat has broken out over my forehead and skin.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just haven't really done this too often." I confess, feeling it important she know that I'm not an experienced worker here, reminding her that I'm only a volunteer who helps out here and there.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that." She frowns, reconsidering as she recalls this, "If you don't feel ready, you don't have to come in. I'm not going to make you."

Taking a deep breath, I decline her offer, biting my lip as I then follow her into the room.

My eyes quickly find the hunched figure in the corner, his messy hair matted and dishevelled, skin pale around his face except under his eyes, where deep purple bags have formed, though the blue-green irises that briefly flick up to greet us are sharp and probing as anything, homing in on my presence instantly. His muscles go rigid, eyes remaining fixed on me even as Jennifer and I move furher into the room. Awkwardly, I hold eye contact for a few seconds, before dropping my gaze with a blush covering my cheeks.

"Good morning, Kevin. I brought along someone to help us with today's session, that ok? This is (Y/n), the girl in the photograph I gave you a week back." Jennifer introduces us, setting the box of items on the table in the centre as I gingerly step forwards, looking up again.

"Hi, Kevin. It's nice to meet you." I say to him, not expecting anything back as he keeps staring at me, only to feel slight fear when he suddenly surges to his feet, scrambling over to the table. Once there, he grabs Jennifer's box and starts rooting around in it, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil seconds later, his movements erratic and rushed. I watch in fascination as he seats himself and starts drawing something, expecting us to do the same.

Looking at each other, Jennifer and I do the same thing, a brief flare of surprise lighting inside me as Kevin moves to sit directly opposite me, rather than across from me like he was before. Quietly, I pick up a pen and paper and start sketching, listening to Jennifer as she makes conversation, answering the correct questions and interacting where necessary.

The hour passes quickly, by which point I've managed to finish the drawing I started, sitting back to look at it, before noticing that Kevin is, in fact, also watching me, eyes flicking downwards towards the sheet of paper, almost as if in questioning. With a smile, I push it over the table towards him, offering the drawing to him with little confidence. He picks it up off the table, holding it up so he can see it properly, finger tracing one of the lines, folding it and sticking it in his breastpocket without a second thought.

"Hey, Kevin. That's not yours to take." Jennifer reminds him, looking at me apologetically.

"Oh no, it's fine. You can keep it." I assure her, addressing the last part to him.

He nods at me, not making eye contact.

A few months on, and Kevin and I have actually managed a conversation, the boy no longer too shy or distrusting of me, feeling mostly comfortable around me when in therapy. Jennifer has yet to leave me alone with him, thankfully, though I've overheard her talking to Dr Tomlinson about Kevin requesting for me to have a session alone with him, something which I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with.

Even now, as we read through another of Jennifer's books, it surprises me when he shuffles over to sit beside me, his body incredibly close to mine, as if with the intention of touching each other, but not quite doing so yet. I have a copy of the book open in my lap, giving him a perfect view of the text, as well as my crotch, which draws a small squeak out of me when he goes to turn the page for me, his fingers gently brushing against my jeans, his hand retracting as quickly as I sink back into the seat, neither of us saying anything.

But even after this, it takes a good two months more for Jennifer to finally decide that I'll be safe on my own with him, as long as there are guards outside, and either Dr Tomlinson or herself nearby to help out in case anything goes wrong. At first, I'm sceptical, but eventually I realise that my presence in the room seems to be what keeps him calm and collected, meaning I'm the perfect candidate to look after him alone.

I was wrong to be worried.

A soon as I step into the room, Kevin has stepped up to me with a broad smile on his face, soemthing which always makes me happy to see, making me smile back at him as he eagerly leads me to a place on the floor in the corner, where he sits me down. Taking his place beside me, he rummages around in the breast pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a dog-eared piece of folded paper, silently handing it to me. Opening it, I feel my jaw drop at the sight of it: it's a portrait. Every aspect is drawn perfectly, giving it it's realistic quality, though it does surprise me that he'd draw me of all people, seeing as he knows Jennifer much better. In my head, I remember what she said about him drawing pictures of everyone he cares for.

"This is amazing, Kevin! Is it for me?"

He nods, a smile crossing his face as he shuffles closer, pressing the side of his body against mine.

'Thank you. I really appreciate this." I thank him, starting when I suddenly feel his cold fingers brush against mine. Absentmindedly, they trace their way into my palm, interlocking our fingers together as he moves ever closer. Smiling, I lean back furher and pat my chest, signalling for him to lay there, which he is only too happy to do, his arms wrapping tightly around me, face buried into my midriff as he holds me close to himself.

"I have a crush on you." He suddenly states, voice muffled through my shirt.

For a moment, I don't know what to say, shocked that he feels this way about me.

"Jenny said I should tell you." He testifies, snuggling closer, before pulling back slightly to nose at the bottom of my jaw.

"You have a crush on me?" I ask once more, biting my lip when he assents, "That's helpful, beacuse I have a crush on you, too." I decide just to spit it out, looking to him for a reaction.

"Really? You actually like me? Or are you just being paid to say that?"

"Kevin, I'm a volunteer. I don't get paid at all.

"So, you actually mean it?"

"I do."

#trapped in silence #kiefer sutherland #Kevin Richter #Kevin #request #ask #answer

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gabba-gool-cool · 3 years

Text

Remembrance

Chapter One: A flash

Notes: This is a new DabiHawks thing im starting, and yes it will be ChildhoodFriends!AU because that is adorable, cannon can bite me :) Enjoy the story!

Warnings: Yelling, mention of death (not a character in the series), and mention of not eating food (skip this post if you need to, i promise its okay, be safe!)

this work is also posted to my Ao3!

Not many people know this, but Dabi loves to read. He almost always has a new book with him, he rips through them so quick. Ever since he was a little boy, he loved getting immersed into his favorite author’s universes. His favorite as a child were the Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. He always wondered what turkish delight tasted like and always checked every closet in his house every day as a child, just to see if maybe, just maybe... Nope, just mom’s coats.

He must have read that series a million times by the time he was eleven years old. His mother loved this about him, and she loved to ignite his fire for reading by suggesting new books and taking him to the book shop every other Sunday afternoon. Her favorite shop to take him to was called Philosopher’s Phosphor. It sold many books, old and new. The little shop also sold homemade jewelry by the two old women who ran the place who Dabi’s mother referred to as Janice and Edith.

The shop was always the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold. All around the shop there was comfortable seating. Pillows and blankets, books all over. Everyone who came it would always stay for at least an hour at a time, just sitting reading, and if you asked nicely, Janice loved brewing homemade tea, at no cost, of course. You could choose to sit and read every book in the shop if you wished, or you could buy and bring home the books, it was up to you. Janice and Edith would always accept any and all book donations, and always marked down their book prices so anyone could buy. And to answer your question, why of course all of the jewelry is handmade, beautifully made by Edith, they are having a sale, would you like this ring? It would match well with your beautiful skin tone.

Dabi loved asking the old women questions about books like, how were they made? How did they get to the shop? How did you pick which books to put on each shelf? However, his most common question was “what should i read next?” Which would lead to the two old women getting up and taking Dabi’s little hand through the warmly lit shop. They would show him to fantasies, mysteries, thrillers, adventures, and even some graphic novels. He loved everything the women showed him, he would always come back with his mother, every other Sunday without fail, to see the little old ladies that would show him a whole new universe to fall into.

They were always holding hands, and always so gentle to one another, as well as all of the customers, but... that was a long time ago. That shop was burned down, the old ladies aren't there anymore, and Dabi hasn't been to that shop in probably... how old was he again? He doesn't know. However, what he does know is that right now Shigaraki will not stop talking... as always.

“Well maybe he wouldn't have had to die if he didn't have had the audacity to be a little bitch!” Shigaraki’s voiced strained. Shigaraki was stood up, hands out stretched to really make his point. He was talking, of course, about a man he decided to murder on a whim just last night. It wasn’t apart of the mission, the man was just walking home, and the poor soul ended up accidentally bumping and slightly tripping the leader of the League of Villains.

“Tomura, he was crying because he was about to die, most people don't like the idea of dying. Shocker! I know...” Spinner rolled his eyes. He respected Shigaraki, but only because Stain did as well. This doesn't mean that Shigaraki cant get on his nerves sometimes. It bothered Spinner how easily Shigaraki could just up and kill someone for seemingly, no reason. If it wasn't for a good cause, if the person wasn't in your way, if the person wasn't the target, then what was the point of killing them? Its honestly just cruel, and in Spinner’s head, kind of disgusting.

Everyone in the League of Villains has, will, and would kill, but not all of them have the same boundaries or rules they go by. This can and has led to many arguments, just like the one that was about to ensue between Spinner and Shigaraki. As the voices of the Stain fanboy and Handyman began to rise, so did Dabi’s body from his stool at the bar. Dabi was sure that the argument wouldn’t end in a casualty so he didn’t have any need to be here.

Dabi hated yelling anyways, it always got on his nerves. Whether it be him yelling or someone else, he hated it. Not that he really could yell too much himself, his voice nowadays became hoarse and worn by simply talking too much. That's why his normal speaking voice was actually quite soft and generally pretty quiet. He didn’t mean for his voice to be that way, but years of smoking and over usage of his quirk kind of completely destroyed his vocal chords. Either way, he saw no point in yelling. You can get any point across just fine without yelling, sometimes you just need a weapon, but that of course depends on the person and situation he supposed.

The old floorboards in the back of the bar slowly creaked under each of Dabi’s steps. From the bar, there was a side door, which led to a hallway, which led to some stairs, which led to a basement living room, which led to everyone elses rooms. Well, at least the core members of the league’s rooms. It was nice, having a space for himself. The last time he had a room to himself was probably when he was still a little boy.

Dabi opened his bedroom door.

The whole house was very traditional, so in turn, so was his room. He didn't have many toys, so his favorite thing to do was play pretend with his brother and his sister. He would set up whole scenes with his siblings. Sometimes the scenes were from tv, and some were completely from his and his sibling’s imaginations.

His sister was always the doctor or the nurse, she loved Recovery Girl. In fact, Dabi remembers how every time Recovery Girl came on the news, she would always make a little squeal and her little feet would pitter patter in one place in excitement. He always found it funny how his brother ended up being the doctor in the family, now that they were older. His brother, meanwhile, loved being the villain. He loved making up a cool bad guy name and backstory, sometimes even costumes if Mom got involved. His brother would make up impossible, evil machines that could rearrange your guts or make you super tiny, or even super big! Dabi’s brother was always very creative.

This left Dabi playing the hero, and he loved it. He would put on a cape, and save mom from his brother’s evil clutches alongside his sister who would give him magic healing and strength “potions” that was actually just little jars filled with handsoap and sometimes random cleaning supplies that was on the cleaning lady’s supply cart. The chairs would become big rocks to jump from, the couch would become a “safe zone”, and the bathtub would become the ocean. The whole house morphed into their own imaginary world. It was wonderful, until...

Dabi’s room now was barren. It has a bed, a bookshelf and a desk. It’s all he really needed, he supposed. The shelf had three mystery books that he picked up on a mission a couple weeks ago. They were “okay” in his opinion. He hated how quickly he called the so-called “plot twists”, but least the characters were somewhat entertaining. However, there was a slight romance in one of the books, which was very poorly written, it got to the point where he ended up just dropping the book entirely.

The book in his jacket was one of the Dark Tower series by Stephen King, the book series was different from King’s other works in that it was less of a horror novel than it was an adventure series. It reminded him slightly of the books he read when he was younger. He used to prefer adventures and fantasy, but now that he was older, his favorite genre was mysteries. He did indulge in horror novels whenever he happened by one though, he liked a good thriller.

Turning on the light in his room, it gave off a dim light. He needed to change the blub, but he sure it would be fine for at least a little while. Then, it flickered, oh no... and then again, please dont... and finally, with a low buzz and a pop, the light was out.

“Fuck... okay.” he slowly murmured to himself. Slowly dragging his hand down his face in frustration.

He had no idea when he would be able to replace that lightbulb. He had no cash, and he knew for a fact that the league didn't just have some extra lightbulbs laying around, not to mention extra food.

Damn... his stomach rumbled slightly. Dabi doesn't remember the last time he ate an actual meal, and he doesn't want to remember either. So, since he couldn't get food now or for awhile, he decided to distract himself, as he always did.

Slowly he stalked over to the small window that peeked outside the base. The walls were tall and thick, and he was pretty sure he was the only one with a window downstairs, as tiny as it was. He slowly took off the little tapestry he had hung up to cover the window for privacy. Of course, he couldn't imagine any one peeking through a little basement window so low to the ground, but you never know. Also, Dabi quite enjoyed his privacy, thank you very much. The tapestry blended red, to purple, and then blue in the background with a black silhouette of a dolphin and waves in the foreground. It was an odd little thing, but Dabi enjoyed it nonetheless.

As he gently folded the tiny piece of fabric and set it on his desk, he looked back into his room. Surprisingly, that little window let in quite a bit of light. He silently thanked the window as he plopped down on to his mattress that laid on the ground. Then, he pulled out his book from his big inner pocket on his long jacket, and finally began to read, feeling the thoughts of food slowly drift from mind.

It could've been hours, minutes, or even seconds, Dabi doesn't really know, until he finally snapped his head up from his book and looked to the window. He quickly shot up and went up to the window. He looked left, and then right, and then over again. Huh... that's odd... he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of red right outside of his window.

#dabi #touya todoroki #touya #hawks #takami keigo #dabihawks #hawks x dabi #keigo x touya #keigo #shigaraki #spinner #league of villains

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

i know that the audacity of what im about to ask is off the charts bc you're already too good to us, writing fic left and right and updating a lot soon but im SO weak over the parenting group!AU that im right here to beg for a snippet of it, if you feel like sharing!

Haha, the audacity is not off the charts at all! I can give you a snippet! Sorry it’s coming a little later – when you sent this to me this morning, I was like ‘oh god, everything I have is too ugly to post’ haha, so it gave me an excuse to tidy up a scene I’d drafted already which is fun!

I will say as just a heads up, I’m operating now on a one-out-one-in system for multi-chaptered WIPs. So when I finish CYF (which is basically done, just got to post the epilogue!), I’ll be starting to post the pirate au, and when I finish See You in the Light, I’ll be starting to post this parents group au, and then finally when I finish If It Wasn’t for All the Lights, I’ll start to post the BDSM au! It’s probably a deeply flawed system, but it’s the one I’m going ahead with, haha.

Anyway!

A snippet of the parents group au!

“C’mon, pop,” Rio grunts, trying to get the tabs free on the side of the diaper as Marcus kicks out his legs, squirming up the back of the change mat like he’s trying to slip up on out of the thing, and shit, the last thing he needs is the kid to smear Rhea’s Earth Mama Angel Bottom Balm up the back of his new hoodie.

“I have spare diapers if you need to borrow one,” Beth says at the change table beside him, having apparently gotten Jane into her new one in record speed, and Rio lets his gaze stick for a second, watching as she makes even easier work of getting Jane’s thrashing legs back into her pink polka dot leggings, like it’s nothing at all. It’s enough to make his jaw rock, his attention twisting back to Marcus, trying to get the tab unstuck again, but his fingers are still oily with the diaper rash cream, and Marcus’ face is gettin’ redder, and he just can’t get his grip.

He tugs Marcus back towards him, dropping a hand to his son’s belly, tickling a little to try and calm him down, even as he levels Beth with an irritated look.

“Yeah, what part of this looks like the diaper’s the issue?”

Somewhere outside, he hears her friend laughing, the sound loud and warm over the pinging arcade machines and the banging of the bowling balls hitting the polished floor of the lanes, the crack of one hitting pins, and - - and he ain’t being fair.

Knows that.

It’s not her fault he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Still, when he glances sideways at her again, she’s unbothered by his tone – not pissed like Rhea would be, or wounded like his ma – and something about that bothers him more than it should. Instead, Beth shrugs, fixing her gaze back down on her daughter.

“It just looks like it’s one of those organic ones, right?” she says, gently lifting Jane to put her onto her belly for a few minutes of tummy time – just like Nance had told ‘em to in class – before turning to better look at Rio, her eyes tired as she watches him yank again on the tab of Marcus’ diaper. “I tried those with Kenny, and I just find the tabs always - -”

Riiiiiiiip.

He can feel his pulse in his throat as his cream-covered fingers clench around a handful of torn diaper, can feel it even harder behind his eyes, his blood thrumming hot beneath his skin and damn, it ain’t anger, it’s just - -

Fuckin’ exhaustion.

He pulls the diaper out from underneath Marcus’ bare, wet-with-diaper-cream ass and stamps his foot hard down on the peddle of the bin beside the change table, tossing the whole damn thing in with more force than necessary, and he’s expecting Elizabeth to have that look on her face again – that one that’s some mix of pity and judgement or even worry at seein’ a guy like him snap – but it ain’t even really a look at all. She’s just magicked up one of her kids’ diapers from that Mary Poppins bag of hers, and holds it out to him.

“If you loosen the tabs and open it up a bit before you get it under him it’ll be easier too,” she offers, and Rio grunts, plucking it from her hand and fixing his attention back on Marcus’ flailing legs, sucking in a breath to calm his frayed nerves, before gently lifting his son again to get the diaper up underneath him, adjusting it to get it in the right spot, trying to avoid Marcus’ kicking feet, and it’s just - - sudden.

That’s the thing.

Because Marcus’ legs calm down right in time with Beth’s arm suddenly pressing into Rio’s, and Rio blinks up to see Beth reached over and her finger is curled in Marcus’ tiny fish, and Rio tears his confused gaze away from Beth to look up and see his son smiling, that one that makes him look like the whole damn sun, and he keeps smiling, even when he shoves his fist – still clutchin’ Beth’s finger – right up into his mouth.

And he’s gonna stop it – ain’t like he loves other people’s kids chewing on his knuckles – but he finally gets Marcus properly into the clean diaper, and before he can do anything else, Beth’s just started talking.

“That is a strong grip,” she whispers, so quiet it’s almost like she doesn’t want Rio to hear, and her voice is light and bright in a way he ain’t really used to hearing. “And very warm slobber, which is what you want from slobber. I mean, can you even imagine cold slobber? Like a ghost. I will say Billy from class has some weirdly cold slobber, so you stay away from him, mister.”

Rio just - - blinks, his brow furrows, his lips parting, but when he opens them all the way, no words come out. Instead he just stands there like a dumbass, watching this woman half-bent over her kid and his at the change table of a bowling alley, her strawberry blonde hair falling down, concealing her face so all Rio can see is his son’s, and how whatever it is she’s doing makes his son happy, and he can’t really explain any of it, but he just - -

“Oh my god, Paulie! Twins!”

“Amber, don’t - -”

Whatever Paulie was about to say is lost to the rest of the parents’ room as Rio spins to see a skinny, leggy blonde thrust a toddler with milkshake-vomit down his shirt at some guy with frosted tips like this is the fuckin’ 90s, and dart towards them in a wave of too-sweet perfume. She’s so fuckin’ quick (or maybe just - - y’know - - awake given her kid’s old enough to vomit milkshake instead of formula), instantly peering over at Marcus and Jane on the change tables, an easier feat now that Beth’s standing up again, her finger reclaimed, rolling Jane back onto her back on the mat.

Amber’s cooing is instant, and Rio sighs, grabbing Marcus’ pants from where he’d slung them over his shoulder and starting to shake them out.

“Oh my goooodddd, they’re like those ones you see on TV! Paulie!! Look!! Like, one’s just like mommy, and one’s just like daddy.”

Which - - Rio blinks, looking sideways at Beth, who just seems to be watching Amber with that same neutral, Stepford Wife-look she gets in class. Rio sets his jaw, shaking his head, as he starts to bunch the pants up in his hands, ready to put them on Marcus, opening his mouth to correct the other woman.

“Nah, they ain’t - -”

“You think so?”

The words are offered so suddenly, so sharply, that Rio’s head spins back around to look at Beth again, his eyebrows raised at her interruption, but she doesn’t look back at him, just keeps her gaze fixed on Amber. She wrinkles her nose a little, purses her lips, before dropping a hand back to the change table while leaning forwards a little, almost conspiratorially.

“We’ve been thinking about signing them up for auditions, but I don’t know,” she waves a hand suddenly at Rio, who only blinks at her. “James here thinks it might not be the best idea.”

And okay, for starters, fuckin’ James? She really wants to play him like that? But also - - just - - y’know. What the fuck? Rio stares at her, taking in her widening eyes and her baggy mama sweater that does exactly zero to hide the fact that she’s stacked, but also the fact that she’s holdin’ herself kinda different all of a sudden. Like she’s caught him looking, her gaze darts towards him, and it’s so quick he almost misses it, the way she just sort of - -

Shrugs.

Rio scoffs a little – a sound Amber clearly reads as about the audition and not about this whole damn show – and turns around, putting on a smile for Marcus as he finishes bunching up the pants and pushing them up over his tiny feet.

“Men are always weird about this stuff, but you guys should totally be auditioning them! Like, I could literally see them in commercials for formula. You know they always put the cutest ones in them, because they want to trick regular people into thinking that their product’s gonna like, magic you a better-looking baby.”

Which - - look, Rio can’t exactly say it’s a surprise. He’s pretty sure his sister changed her kids’ brand of juice because one of the ads had one of the little girl’s playin’ Daisy Doctor instead of Holly Housewife. His thoughts are interrupted though when Marcus sneezes, and Rio leans over enough to grab a tissue from Beth’s diaper bag, vaguely aware of Paulie rounding the change tables for the sink, and tugging off his own kids’ shirt and it’s really only then that Rio realises he hasn’t even blinked at the smell of vomit, which - -

Okay, actually, that could be the fifteen years working in a bar.

“You know, I think I’ve heard that,” Beth says, and the girl makes a humming noise, her bowling shoes tapping a little on the tiled floor.

“Well, that’s an insider secret for you. I lived in LA for like, ever. It was almost two years. I mean, closer to one, but that’s basically 40 Hollywood years. I even once auditioned to play a mom in a Baby’s Only commercial. I mean I didn’t get it, but I think it was because I was like, too in shape, y’know?”

Which - - shit, Rio coughs a little to cover a sound he doesn’t even know, a laugh? A scoff? Why the hell is she even talkin’ to this woman?

“Wow,” Beth says though, her voice loaded with concern. “That’s gotta be discrimination.”

“I know right?”

And it’s Jane who wobbles at least, her bottom lip quivering, her legs kicking, and Beth turns around instantly, humming softly back down at her daughter, and before Rio can help it, his gaze darts over to her, watching as her face softens, her eyes glaze over, like they do sometimes, and he thinks of saying somethin’ to her, but shit, what? He doesn’t know jack about her.

A wave of perfume hits them again, and the second he finishes getting Marcus’ pants on, picks him up, turns around at the same time Beth does with Jane, Amber’s right in front of them, her gaze darting between Jane and Marcus, like she’s not sure which one to look at first.

Finally, she just sighs, clutching a hand forlornly to her chest.

“Like, I’m not even kidding. You made two really nice babies. Like, Paulie, tell them I’m not kidding.”

Over at the sink, Paulie grunts again, holding the toddler’s shirt under a furious stream of water, and Rio stares for a minute, watching the guy morosely clean up toddler vomit while the kid licks the rim of the sink. Rio resists the urge to gag as he bounces Marcus a little on his hip.

“How’d you two even meet anyway?”

And at least that much he should’ve expected. Rio shakes his head, gaze fixing back on Amber, the words ready on his tongue, but before he can say a damn thing, Beth’s cut him off again.

“It sounds so weird, but it was actually at an underwater research center.”

Which - - okay - - what?

His gaze flicks back to Beth, but she ain’t looking back at him. She’s just got Jane curled into her chest, nestling her face into her breast, while Beth hums a little, just - - blatantly fuckin’ lying.

“I was studying - - ” outside, a bowling ball hits the floor hard. “How sound affects - -“ she fingers her pearl necklace with the hand not clutching Jane, “Oysters, because I am a scientist, and James here was researching - - ” Beth’s gaze darts around, fixing on Marcus in Rio’s arms. “Marco Polo.”

Before Rio’s even had time to catch up to that, Paulie blinks up, confused, from his spot at the sink.

“In Detroit?”

It’s enough to make Beth stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly, and he really should just leave her to fix this herself, should leave her there gaping like a fish, scrambling for the tail-end of her own lie, and get back out to the group, but - - Rio sucks in a breath - - Marcus would be bare-assed right now if it wasn’t for her.

“Nah, man, west coast. We just moved back here to be close to family with the twins,” he drawls with a shrug, and maybe that makes it worth it – how quickly Beth reels around to look at him, and - - shit, have her eyes always been that blue? Rio blinks, jerks his head back around to Amber, rolling his shoulders back to undo the sudden knot in them. “One of those things, yeah? We met workin’ out there, but turned out we were both from here.”

He means to leave it at that. Should, really, but all he can think about is her in class – prim and proper and that look again, like she’s judging him, and she got them into this, right? Before he can think twice, he drops his free hand to her lower back, smoothing it around to hold the soft hip furthest from him, smiling toothlessly as Beth stiffens and then pointedly, deliberately, relaxes, while Amber holds her hand to her chest again, hums an: “Aww, that’s how you know it’s meant to be!”

“That’s right,” Rio replies, and he watches Beth turn her face up to meet him, her gaze darting across his face like she’s trying to figure something out, and shit, he’s just trying to match what she’s laying down. After a moment, Beth spins into him, her free arm dipping around his back, and something in him sparks hot and he just - - he hadn’t known how fucking small her hands were until one squeezes at his waist.

“Right, honey,” she says, voice high and too-sweet. “I was just so lucky. And speaking of our families, we should really get back to them.”

After that, it’s easy enough to pack up the last of the diaper bags, for Amber to dip down to help Paulie and the kid, and for them to slip out again under the distraction, and it’s just fuckin’ weird, he thinks, to watch that little character Beth had invented – all ease and charm – slip off her shoulders like a cloak, and he means to let it go, because what skin is it off his nose if she’s some sort of pathological liar? But as they duck between the groups of sprawling teenagers and middle America families ordering fries and picking bowling ball weights, guys shoving each other at arcade games, and kids feeding quarters into claw machines, he just - - itches.

So maybe he steps a little slower, matching her pace, maybe he looks at her, amused, a little goading as he says: “So you in some secret, new mama improv group, or what?”

And Beth just - -

Shrugs, and shit, she doesn’t even look at him when she says:

“You don’t ever get bored of just being you?”

Rio blinks, his step slowing all over again, taking in her tired look, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, that shirt she’s wearing, stained with grubby children’s fingers and milk, that damn new mama smell that’s always up his nose with her, and he just thinks - - nah, not really, but before he has the chance to say it, it’s like she’s read it on his face. She hoists a snuffling Jane up a little higher and moves faster than she has any right to. Back across the bowling alley, back into their lane, nestled in the shelter between her friend and her sister, away from him.

#parents group au #one day you will have a title #inyoursheets

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

Text

you’ll get him back

Summary: Morse had done foolish things before, on several occasions, often running alone into whatever half formed theory he had, and Jakes or Thursday usually found him bleeding, but mostly okay. Jakes used to be annoyed whenever he did this, thinking it a waste of time, but now he feels much the way he imagines Mrs Thursday does every time her husband leaves each morning.

Pairing: peter jakes/endeavour morse, fred thursday/win thursday

Warning: graphic depictions of violence, canon typical violence, murder, descriptions of murder

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: this is crossposted on AO3 under the same title - im working n a follow up piece but dont hold ur breath xoxo

~~~

Morse had done foolish things before, on several occasions, often running alone into whatever half formed theory he had, and Jakes or Thursday usually found him bleeding, but mostly okay. Jakes used to be annoyed whenever he did this, thinking it a waste of time, but now he feels much the way he imagines Mrs Thursday does every time her husband leaves each morning.

The thing is, Morse was good at talking. He could explain obscure classical references in layman’s terms, in a way that meant Jakes didn't have to listen to any bloody opera to solve a case - which he was always thankful for. At first he had thought it was condescending, some young bloke lording his knowledge over the lowly Cowley coppers, but when he got to know Morse, really got to know him, he realised that Morse had a genuine interest in this, that all this music really meant something to him. In a way, it meant something to Jakes too now, seeing as most nights he fell asleep with Morse’s records on quietly in the background.

Morse was good at talking about nothing too. Peter couldn’t count the number of times he had found Morse after he had run off, hands up and definitely scared, though not in any real danger because he just kept talking, a steady stream of thoughts and theories about this and that, distracting the suspect long enough that Jakes could cuff them.

This killer though, the way he killed, seemingly without mercy and with no signs of stopping, he wasn’t the type to be talked down.

It was a rough case. The only good thing about it was that no children were involved. The list of bad things gave Jakes a headache; the long and the short of it was that young men were being viciously beaten and then strangled, and they were all found in some remote expanse of fields on the outskirts of Oxford. That would have been enough to put anyone on edge, but the only thing that seemed to connect the victims was their appearance - tall, slim, blonde academic types.

Dr DeBryn had always been something of a rock to the younger officers, always calm and collected, even in the face of danger, but it seemed that the good doctor was shaken by this one. After the first autopsy, Jakes and Morse had gone to see Max; and the latter pair had looked like they were about to pass out - their expressions grim, their already pale skin almost sickly, and both shaking so much that Peter reckoned he could feel it through the floor. He likely wasn’t doing much better - the body on DeBryn’s table looked a little too much like Morse.

“This young man went through… quite the ordeal. Knife wounds and blunt force trauma all over his body, both sustained over several hours, and if you look here,” Max pointed to the victims fingertips and ears, “you can see the beginnings of frostbite setting in.”

Jakes nodded, glancing at Morse to make sure he was still upright before asking, “What about these bruises, on his wrist?”

“Yes, he has them on his ankles too, which indicates he was tied to the arms and legs of a chair, and you can see from the angle of the bruising on his neck that the killer was taller than him whilst he was sat down. What doesn’t make sense, though, is that there are multiple ligature bruises. It could mean that he was brought to the brink of death multiple times, but I suspect that the killer simply wasn’t strong enough to do it in one.”

Thursday went alone to the second autopsy, which was for the best because the killer had escalated to cutting out his victims tongues, and Morse would definitely have collapsed had he seen that. The third and fourth were the same as the second, the cuts were deeper and bruises bloomed over more pale skin, but ultimately they were the same.

At ten o'clock the morning after the fourth body had been found, Morse was surrounded by Jakes, Thursday, Trewlove, Strange and Bright who were all trying to convince him to stay with another officer at all times.

“These are very clearly crimes of passion.” Morse snapped, slamming the newspaper onto his desk. Strange and Trewlove looked taken aback by his outburst, but Jakes just rolled his eyes, used to Morse’s dramatics.

Morse stood, planting both hands on the desk as he continued. “Likely someone has been wronged - or lied to, hence the tongues - and is going after men who look like the guilty party. I don’t know if you’ve ever actually been to Oxford, but ninety percent of the male population look like the victims; the chances of me personally being targeted are so microscopically small that it would be a waste of manpower to have somebody protecting me instead of searching for the killer.” Morse all but shouted before storming out, his coat billowing behind him.

Morse had become restless after the second murder - people had made the connection between the victims and started hovering around Morse. He didn’t like people fussing over him when he had been shot, so, what with the amount of attention he was getting now, it was really no surprise that Morse had done a runner, Jakes was only surprised it took this long.

That didn’t mean Jakes was happy about it.

He was, however, less happy to find out that Morse had been snatched off the street, in broad daylight, not fifteen minutes after leaving the station.

They’d had multiple calls from witnesses and it didn’t take long to put two and two together, which was all well and good, but they still couldn’t work out where the men were actually being killed. Trewlove had been coordinating searches of all buildings surrounding the fields, to no avail, so their only option was to split up and search buildings further afield until they found Morse.

It was freezing. In reality, Jakes knew that was because it was in the middle of winter, but he couldn’t help feeling as if the real reason he was shivering so violently as he sprinted across the field was the mind numbing fear that this time he would be too late. Or too slow, because despite the fact he was running fast enough to give him a stitch, the rundown barn he was trying to reach didn’t seem to be any closer than it was two minutes ago. He had always reached Morse before he came to any serious harm - he almost laughed when he realised that being shot or drugged no longer constituted ‘serious harm’, at least not when it came to Morse - this time though, this time his Morse could be killed and he’s not sure he’s ready to deal with that possibility.

His shirt was completely soaked with sweat when he eventually reached the building - if you could even call it that. The doors were crooked, barely hanging on; there were panels missing from all of the walls, and the one that were still holding on were more rot than anything else. There were tyre tracks leading from the doors away and cross the field - how the fuck did I miss them? - and in the cold glow of dusk he could see spots of dried blood painting a trail pointing towards what would no doubt reveal Peter’s worst nightmares come true.

There were footsteps behind him, likely uniforms who were only now catching up, but he didn’t turn to check - he just needed to find Morse, he just needed to move, but his joints had locked into place and he couldn’t find it in himself to push open the doors. At least not until he heard someone cry out over the sound of his laboured breathing.

He couldn’t stand there any longer and with a sudden surge of adrenaline, he yanked the door open and rushed inside.

For a moment it seemed that everything was moving all at once - Peter was still hurtling towards the centre of the barn, the unis behind him were cocking their guns, the killer was scrabbling for a weapon and there, bloody, but mostly okay, was Morse.

The next moment was deathly still. Jakes stopped a few feet from where Morse was tied to rickety wooden chair and inhaled sharply at how terrible he really looked: his hair was matted with sweat and blood, his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, his skin as pale as the day he saw the first body and bruises almost as dark as the circles under his eyes after a long case.

“Do not come any closer or I will kill him.”

The unexpectedly feminine voice drew Jakes’ gaze upwards, where, standing behind Morse, holding a knife tightly against his neck, was a young woman.

“There are multiple ligature bruises. I suspect that the killer simply wasn’t strong enough to do it in one.”

“These are very clearly crimes of passion.”

Jakes could have smacked himself for not realising sooner that they were looking for a woman. Instead he raised his hands, signalling to the officers behind him to stand down.

“Alright, okay. No one else needs to get hurt, okay?” He hadn’t realised he was moving towards Morse until the girl waved the knife at him and he froze.

Looks really could be deceiving - Jakes reckons he should be used to that by now, what with Morse, but there was something about this girl that threw him off balance. Not necessarily because she was a woman, he thinks, more because there was something decidedly innocent about her. She was young, probably Morse’s age, though she looked much younger. Her hair was shoulder length and the dark curls bounced as she shook with rage; her pale yellow dress looked like a massacre in early spring, as did her coat which was discarded on some old equipment. Her eyes are what really threw Jakes off - a sort of unhinged sadness desperately looking for a way out that no one, especially not someone that young, should ever feel.

“None of the men you killed already are the one you really want, are they, miss?” Jakes said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt, though his shaking hands gave him away.

She seemed momentarily distracted, as if she wasn’t about to kill a policeman, as if she was remembering a happier time.

“No, I suppose not.” She laughed humourlessly, a few tears falling to the ground. “No, no one can quite live up to my Jamie. He always knew just what to say to me. It’s a shame he had another girl on the go - we could��ve been awfully happy.”

There was a door on the opposite end of the barn, and over the girl’s shoulder Jakes could see Thursday creeping through it.

“I thought he was going to ask me to marry him - I was going to be Mrs Sarah Jones. I went to his house and I was trying to calm myself down - worked myself into a right flap, I had. But,” she took a deep breath, “as I was about to go and knock, the door opened and some… leggy tart came out, draping herself all over my Jamie.” The girl - Sarah - was getting agitated again and so was Jakes. Morse looked bloody terrified and he had the strangest notion to call out and tell Thursday to get a fucking move on.

“He didn’t even apologise. Merely told me to pack my things by the end of the week. I had a sudden urge to do the women of Oxford a favour and make sure they couldn't get hurt like I did.” Sarah was still smiling, but it was more sinister now and time seemed to slow giving Jakes plenty of time to watch as everything went spectacularly wrong.

Sarah pressed the knife against the side of Morse’s neck just as Thursday reached her and began to pull her back. Morse looked at Jakes, all doe eyed and teary, and all Jakes could do was look on in static horror as Sarah drew a line of blood that immediately cascaded crimson onto Morse’s already ruined shirt.

Jakes isn’t sure he’ll ever forget the sound Morse made - weak and broken, slicing right through his heart.

He moved on autopilot; if anyone asked he couldn't have said with any certainty how he got Morse untied, but he wasn’t really concerned about that. Peter used one hand to support the back of Morse’s neck and pressed the palm of the other firmly over the cut. Almost immediately, blood started seeping through his fingers, and Morse’s whimpering went up an octave, his eyes were glassy and unfocused, gazing vaguely at the other coppers who were standing around as if Morse wasn’t bleeding out.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get a fucking ambulance!?” He shouted over his shoulder. Morse flinched and Jakes turned back to him, ignoring the sound of now-moving heavy boots behind him.

“Morse, you need to stay awake.” Jakes pressed harder against the wound, trying to ignore the blood that was rolling down his wrist and soaking into his cuffs in favour of adjusting his hold on Morse’s neck as his head lolled and he fell silent, causing Peter’s panic returned anew. It was careless, what with the number of people so close to them, but Jakes couldn't help stroking his thumb across the cold skin of Morse’s jaw.

“Morse? Morse, come on open your eyes.” Peter was only rewarded with a feeble fluttering of his lashes, just as they had on their last day off: the sun had peered over the horizon and Jakes had kissed Morse awake, running his hand through golden curls and in return Morse had blinked up at him, grinning sleepily.

“Come on, Dev. Open your eyes for me, please?” This time he didn’t get a response at all. “Please, love?” Peter isn’t quite sure if anyone heard his voice crack. He’s not sure he cares.

It seemed an age before the ambulance arrived and when it did, Thursday had to bodily drag Jakes away. He was vaguely aware that, at some point, everyone except himself, Thursday and Morse had left - which was probably for the best.

“He’ll be alright.” Thursday said quietly, as if Jakes was a frightened animal. “Always is - he’s a stubborn bastard. Won’t let something like this stop him.”

Jakes didn’t really listen, too preoccupied with trying to light his cigarette. The matches were taken out of his hand, and he didn’t look up until he was exhaling the first lungful of smoke. Thursday pressed the pack back into Peter’s hands, guiding him out to the car, and in an almost characteristic display of kindness and acceptance, he handed Jakes his hanky to clean up with.

“You’ll get him back, Peter.”

#itv endeavour #peter jakes #hurt/comfort #human disaster endeavour morse #seriously he needs to be supervised #hes an idiot but hes jakes' idiot #theyre in an established relationship not that youd know #i think i just forgot that half way through

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angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

TMO Alternative Epilogue

“Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite.” - Victor Hugo

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mild angst but also plenty of fluff and a few doubts

Summary: You and Harrison create a life together.

A/N: thank you all for the love on this series, can’t wait to hear your reactions!! this series meant a lot to me and I put a lot of work into it psychologically and all, im geniunely super proud of the story as a whole even though it ended up ending very different than how I originally intended! <3

The Birth

***

“There you go darling! Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to,” Harrison murmurs, pushing hair out of your eyes.

“Haz, I-, ow! This baby wants to kill me,” you cry, afraid you might break his hand as you squeeze it.

Your doctor, the one you met with the moment you arrived in Boston 5 months ago, Dr. Glenn, is encouraging you, telling you she sees the head.

You can hear the baby’s cries and the sound brings tears to your eyes, happy tears.

“Almost there, excellent work Adeline,” Dr. Glenn praises you, and all of a sudden a huge weight lifts off your shoulders as you give birth.

Harrison kisses your cheek as you let go of his hand, “Can I see him?” you ask, wiping the tears from your eyes as you watch Dr. Glenn clean your baby off and wrap him in a blue blanket.

“Happy, healthy, this little guy looks great,” Dr. Glenn helps position your child in your arms and you swallow down a sob, because he has Tom’s nose. And Tom is-

“Have you decided on a name yet?” one of the nurses asks as your baby coos and cries in your arms.

“I uh, I was thinking Phillip, Phil for short, like your mom,” you looked anxiously up at Harrison, hoping he liked the idea.

His face lit up brighter than Christmas tree and you felt your heart fill with warmth as he nods.

“Hey there Phillip, you’ve got the best mommy in the entire world,” Harrison smiles, reaching his hand out to rest on your shoulder.

***

8 Months Old

“No! I, I don’t deserve to be his mother!” you shout, sitting down on the couch as Harrison paces the room.

“When are you going to- Y/N, I thought we got through this! I thought you- when you left to go back with Tom-,”

“Don’t say his name.”

“When you left with him all that time ago, you were better! You were happy! I thought you were ready to be a mom! With me,” Harrison stops, turning toward you. Pleading with wide blue eyes, begging you to see you the way he sees you.

“I-,”

“I mean, what could have happened in four days that changed that? Is this because you-,”

“I killed him! Harrison, I killed the father of my child and now-,”

“Harrison! Y/N! Come quick!” Ian shouts from the kitchen and both of your eyes nearly bug out of your skulls, terrified something happened to Phillip.

By the time you and Harrison make it to the kitchen, Ian is sitting up against the fridge, clapping excitedly with a huge smile on his face.

“Where’s Phillip? Is something wrong?” You ask, looking around for your son when you hear him babbling from behind the center island.

You watch him, gasping as he struggles to stand on two feet, clapping his chubby hands together.

“Mama!” He cries out, your mouth falling open in awe.

“Phillip, oh my goodness, look at you!” You praise, kneeling down on the floor next to Ian, opening your arms to encourage him to keep moving.

“His first steps, look at him, practically running already,” Harrison chuckles, sitting next to you, the fight from earlier practically forgotten about.

“Come to mama,” you encourage, smiling widely as Phillip’s feet start to move faster, wanting to be wrapped in your arms.

“Da-da!” Phillip shouts instead, falling right onto Harrison’s lap.

His hand curls around Harrison’s thumb, snuggling against his chest as you brush a dark brown curl behind Phillip’s ear.

“Always knew he’d be a daddy’s boy,” you chuckle, “he did say your name first.”

“No! He was laughing, his speech slurred a little, that’s why it sounded like Haz, but his first word was loud and clear, mama, he loves his mama,” Harrison says, kissing your cheek.

As if to echo his words, Phillip wordlessly crawled from Harrison’s lap to yours, snuggling against your stomach as you hold him close. You could get used to this, you definitely could get used to this.

***

3 Years Old

“We need our own place,” Harrison reasons, “it isn’t safe to raise Phillip here. Bless Ian and the rest of the guys for helping us out these past few years, but I want to keep him away from the mob, from danger.”

“This place is like a built in babysitter though, there’s always someone here to help look after him when we want to go on a date night or we’re both working…”

“Well, that’s what babysitters are for, and besides, you’re almost never away from him for more than a few hours at a time. I found a beautiful townhouse for rent in the North End. Three bedrooms, two floors, even has a small backyard. Don’t you think Phillip would love to run around and play in a backyard someday?”

You nod, resting your head on Harrison’s chest as you think it through. Logically, there was no reason that you shouldn’t move into your own space. Sometimes the men got too excited during meetings, shouting and cheering when Phillip was trying to sleep. Plus, sharing a room with Harrison and your ever growing son is getting exhausting.

“Three bedrooms,” you muse, smiling at the idea of Phillip having a younger sibling to run around with.

“Yeah, you know, our room, Phillip’s room…” Harrison’s sentence tapers off so you can fill in the blank.

“Maybe a little brother or sister for him?” You smile, gently kissing Harrison’s jaw.

“Really?” Harrison sounds like a kid in a candy shop as you trail your lips along his jaw and down his neck.

“Really, I was an only child, it sucked, so Phillip deserves more than that,” You close your eyes and imagine having another kid, a kid of Harrison’s, a kid of yours.

“I would love for Phillip to have a little brother or sister,” Harrison sighs as you straddle his hips, “maybe both.”

“Oh no, we do not want a 19 kids and counting situation, mister,” you giggle as his hands curl around your sides.

“Who said 19? I just want three, darling, three cute little kids to run around and play with.”

“You’re a great dad, you know that, right?” You smile, tracing your finger along the curve of his nose.

“And you, Y/N, are the best mom Phillip could ever ask for.”

As if on cue, just to interrupt your moment, Phillip wakes up, “mama? Daddy?”

“Maybe we can make those babies when we have a room of our own,” you laugh, getting up out of your bed.

“Great plan,” Harrison sighs, watching you pick Phillip up to bring him to cuddle. He couldn’t imagine his life happening any differently. And neither could you.

***

4 Years Old

You just got Phillip to sleep in his new bedroom and you’re exhausted after moving into the new townhouse all day.

You all but collapse on your new bed next to Harrison, “finally got our little boy down,” you curl up with your head on Harrison’s chest.

“Are you talking about Phillip or me?” Harrison chuckles, his eyelids drooping.

“Hmmm both, but I have to ask you something, need to ask something of you.”

“Anything,” Harrison says, suddenly wide awake as you tap your fingers against his chest.

“If they finally catch up to me, if the FBI come snooping around asking you questions…”

Harrison’s breathing stops for a moment as his arm tightens around your side, “they haven’t in almost five years…”

“If they do,” you continue, “if they do, I need you to promise to kill me, to take me out, I-,”

Harrison sits up immediately, pulling you up with him, “no, absolutely not. Your case is cold, there’s been no activity on it according to my sources on the inside, we’re fine, you’re fine,” he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

“Harrison,” you turn, cupping his cheeks, “it’s a precaution, me asking you this. But I have some leftover needles from back in the day, they’re locked away in the safe. If, and it’s a huge if, if something happens to me and they’re seconds away from catching me, then you use that needle on me. Simple jab to my neck.”

“Why would I- you know I could never kill you-,”

“Don’t think of it as killing me, okay?”

“How would it not be-,”

You press your forehead to his, forcing his eyes to meet yours, “it would be saving our child from the horror of finding out his mother is a-, was a serial killer, he can’t know that I- that I used to kill people. So you would have to kill me.”

“I can’t-,”

“Harrison,” your voice is final and you don’t give him a chance to speak, “babe, I- I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t thinking of Phillip, of our kid, of his future. It may never come up, you might be right, maybe the FBI has forgotten about the Scooby gang,” you shake your head, “but if they haven’t, please don’t hesitate to make sure Phillip has the best life possible, please take care of our baby.”

Tears well in his eyes as he kisses you slowly, “for Phillip,” he says through gritted teeth.

You nod, kissing him again, “for Phillip.”

***

5 Years Old

“Hey, Phillip, wave for daddy!” You laugh, holding onto Phillip’s arms in the wading pool.

Harrison was kneeling at the edge, video taping you and Phillip, his introduction to the public wade pool in Boston Common. It’s a hot day, probably in the mid 80’s and humid as hell. Your baby bump is peeking through your T-shirt, due in October.

Phillip waves, “hi dad!”

You wave as well before Phillip jumps in your arms, resting his head on your stomach.

“I think I can hear her, she’s my little sister, right? Can we name her Matilda?” Phillip giggles. He’s recently been on a Matilda binge, watching the movie over and over again when you and Harrison allow it.

“Matilda?” You giggle, feeling her kick once again, Phillip backing away with wide eyes.

“Was that her?” He squeals, reaching up on his tiptoes to press his hand against your stomach.

“That was, that’s your little sister,” you grin, resting your hand over his smaller one, feeling her little feet pressing right against your belly.

“Matilda?” He looks up at you with wide eyes, dark brown eyes that remind you of Tom’s.

“Why do you want her to be named Matilda, sweetie?” You smile, crouching down to tickle him slightly.

“Because mama! If she’s Matilda, she can use her super magic powers, and steal me cookies from the jar above the fridge before dinner!”

“Oh, so you just want a little sister so she can be your little cookie stealer?” You joke, picking Phillip up and resting him against your hip.

“Noooo,” Phillip insists, “I want a little sister because I know I would be the best big brother!”

“Alright, well since Matilda isn’t born yet and can’t steal cookies for you, how does a snow cone sound?”

“Yay! Snowcone! Come on mommy!” Phillip tugs at the sleeve of your shirt as you meet Harrison at the edge of the pool.

“How was it in there bud?” Harrison asks, draping a towel over your shoulders and kissing your cheek.

“My turn,” Phillip giggles before kissing your other cheek.

“Alright boys, there are plenty cheek kisses to go around, but I heard a little guy would like a snowcone,” you smile as Phillip rests his head on your shoulder.

Once you get to the stand, you squeeze your eyes shut when the sickly sweet smell of cherries hits your nose.

You’re not a kid. You’re not in your parent’s station wagon waiting for them to come out of their friends house, the now sour taste of a cherry ice pop lingering on your lips.

“Mommy! Open your eyes silly!” Phillip laughs, tugging at your shirt sleeve.

Harrison gently squeezes your hip, mildly concerned at the glazed over look in your eye.

“what flavor do you want bubs?”

“Could I get blue raspberry?” Phillip asks, “pleaseeee.”

“Of course, nice job using your manners, bubs.”

By the time you get Phillip home for his nap and the blue raspberry snowcone stain cleaned off his chin, you’re exhausted.

“C’mere, lemme give you a little massage,” Harrison says, patting the bed in front of him.

“What would I do without you?” You smile, stripping off your shirt and sitting in front of him, your hand resting on your baby bump.

“Well, you’ll never have to find out. Hey, do you think our baby, who Phil has very aptly named Matilda will have my eyes?”

You think for a moment, “I mean, I hope so, you have very beautiful eyes.”

Harrison’s hands start massaging your shoulders, “Do we tell Phillip?”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what he means, “tell Phillip what? That we aren’t naming our daughter Matilda?”

“Hey! Why not? Matilda is a cute name,” Harrison brushes your hair off your neck, pressing his lips to your skin.

“Okay, maybe we can call her Matilda, I feel like we have to get a good look at her first, like, what if she doesn’t look like a Matilda?”

“How do you mean?” Harrison asks, running his arms down your own, intertwining your hands together as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“You know, I look like a Y/N, and an Adeline if I want to,” you laugh, “you look like a Harrison, Phillip looks like a Phillip. Was that what you were thinking of telling him?’’

“No, I was wondering if we should tell Phillip about his dad…”

You and Harrison haven’t talked about Tom, almost ever. From the day you came back to Boston and damn near collapsed in his arms.

“I- Harrison,” you smile weakly as he hugs you, “I took care of the things I needed to in Idaho.”

“Are you okay? What happened to-,”

“I’m fine,” you choke back a sob, “he’s dead.”

They seem like very contradictory statements.

You killed Tom. You killed him because the FBI was seconds away from catching both of you. In your mind, the only way he could- the only way either of you could escape the police was death.

When you first made the decision to kill Tom along with the rest of the men from your safe house away from home five months ago, you didn’t expect to be pregnant. When you fell in love with Tom Holland and you still had it set in your mind that you’d kill him, you figured you’d put yourself out of your misery shortly after. But if your life taught you anything, you had to clean up your messes. What happened between Tom and you was a mess, no doubt about it. And if you wanted to give your kid a life, more of a life than being known as the kid born from two serial killer, you had to stick with your original plan, no matter how horrible it made you feel. You couldn’t leave your baby parentless, and you certainly couldn’t kill him just because you wanted to die.

You turn around on the bed, cupping Harrison’s cheeks in your hands, “you, for all intents and purposes, have been Phillip’s dad since I found out I was pregnant.”

“I love you,” Harrison sighs, “I love Phillip, and I love Matilda or Julia or Elaina, whatever our baby’s name will be, I love our little family.”

“I love you too,” you smile, kissing him gently, “Thank you for being my sunshine.”

Harrison chuckles as he lays back, pulling you right down with him, your head resting on his chest as he curls the sun necklace in his palm.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” he begins to sing, nudging you to sing along with him.

“You make me happy, when skies are grey,” you sing along, smiling as he kisses the top of your head.

“You know, this song puts Phillip to sleep, just like it puts you to sleep,” Harrison smiles, reminiscing on all the times you’ve sung to Phillip with him and ended up almost drooling on his shoulder.

You’ve fallen asleep again, snoring lightly on Harrison’s chest as he rubs your shoulder and kisses the top of your head again.

“Goodnight darling, don’t forget that you’re my sunshine,” Harrison closes his eyes, quickly falling asleep with you.

***

8 Years Old

“Hey! We need to write Santa a letter!” Phillip jumps up, running around with his toy airplane, plopping down next to you.

“Is that so?” You grin, turning to wiggle an eyebrow at Harrison.

“Yes! Because he got Mattie the doll she wanted! And I got my airplane!”

Harrison holds Matilda close to him, snuggling her into his chest as she giggles and squeezes her plush doll.

“That’s very nice of you Phillip, why don’t we write the letter tomorrow?” You smile, picking up your mug of eggnog right as his foot collided with it, nearly knocking it over.

Suddenly you’re a little kid again, sitting through Christmas with parents who weren’t actually present as you accidentally knocked over your mom’s cup of coffee.

“When you make a mess you have to clean it up!”

“Y/N…”

And it’s not your dad’s biting voice and it’s not your mom’s was withdrawn one.

It’s Harrison and your parents are nowhere in sight, your stomach isn’t covered in coffee and you aren’t getting sent up to your room to spend Christmas alone.

You blink your eyes open and ruffle Phillip’s hair that looks all too much like his dad’s, grounding yourself in reality.

“Merry Christmas,” you smile at him, looking back to Harrison and nodding, a silent gesture that you’re okay.

“Nice save, darling,” Harrison chuckles, watching Matilda reach her arm out and make grabby hands at you.

“Want to come to mama?” You ask, holding your arms out.

“Mama,” Matilda giggles, tossing her doll to the side and crawling out of Harrison’s lap.

She walks over to you, stumbling a few times but ultimately climbing into your lap to snuggle into your body.

Last night Harrison and you exchanged gifts. For a while you’ve just been each other’s partners, that’s how you introduced yourself to Phillip’s friends parents at school and to the parents at Matilda’s play group.

“I got you something,” Harrison says, handing you a small bag as you settle into bed next to him.

You look at the red shiny material of the bag and smile, “thought you said we weren’t going to exchange gifts.”

He shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulder, “I know but I saw this in the store the other day and couldn’t resist.”

“Well good because I got you something too, it might be stupid so like tell me and I’ll get you something else,” you sigh, turning your grab your small box off the nightstand. You had it specially made in a jewelry shop in the North End, you came across the idea one day while out walking with Matilda, she would tug on your sunshine necklace and remind you of all that time ago when Harrison bought it for you.

You hand him the ring box, resting your head on his shoulder, snuggling into the warmth of his white T-shirt.

“Oh my god,” Harrison chuckles, “open yours too.”

You open up the bag, pulling out a similar ring box.

“You didn’t, Haz…” you break into a huge grin, opening your box as he opens his.

You bought him a ring, in the center was a golden sun.

“You’re my sunshine,” you choke out, catching the glimmering diamond inside your box.

“I know you said we can’t get married, that we can’t legally be husband and wife but I feel, I know that we’re basically husband and wife and we’ve got two lovely kids and, wow I just am obsessed with the idea of calling you my wife.”

You smile through tears as he helps you put the diamond ring on your finger, “I like the idea of calling you hubby I guess.”

“Alright! Family picture! Squish together and I’ll try to get a timer on the camera,” Harrison sets his Polaroid on the fireplace, turning the self timer on for 10 seconds. He jogs over to you, kneeling behind you as Matilda claps her hands.

The camera clicks and you’re positive none of you are looking at it, but you’re going to cherish the photo. Phillip is sticking his tongue out and trying to do bunny ears with his fingers behind Matilda’s head. Matilda is half-turned to you, giggling with her eyes crinkled, she does, in fact, have Harrison’s eyes. Harrison and you are grinning as he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder. You’re a little mismatched family but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Taglist: @gioandreolli @honeymoonparker @itsjusttor @averyfosterthoughts @worldoftom @angelhaz11 @rebekkah4766 @murdermornings

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #take me out

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memory-bees · 4 years

Text

Hanahaki

Parts: I II Warnings: Gore, Death, Vomiting, Suicide Mention, Body Horror, Hanahaki Disease Pairings: Original Characters Throughout Babey A/N: This is a two parter, the second part will be posted later today along with the ao3 link. Also, the hanahaki disease isn’t explained that well, so fair warning, also the start of me posting original writing on Tumblr!!

---

‘ Hanahaki Disease: A disease which is the effect of the patient’s romantic feelings being unrequited. This causes a flower to grow in the patient's lungs, which will grow until it renders breathing impossible. The disease can be cured with the roots being removed, but the operation renders the patient incapable of having romantic feelings. It can also be cured if the patient's feelings are returned.

Symptoms: Coughing/vomiting up blood and flower petals, difficulty breathing. ’

He swallowed and looked up at the doctor. He felt something rise in his throat and he quickly grabbed the trash bin to cough up whatever it was in his throat. He pulled away and grimaced when he saw the yellow, blood-covered. petals. He looked up at the doctor, and she shrugged helplessly.

“You’d still be able to feel platonic love and familial love, just not romantic feelings,” She reminded him, “nobody's really survived without the operation.”

He was quiet for a few minutes before saying, “You say that like people have before.”

She smiled sadly and nodded, she tucked some of her red hair behind her ear. She scratched her cheek as she spoke, “Well, yes, but there’s only about three hundred out of the millions who are affected every year.”

He nodded and swallowed, he could still taste the almost plastic of the flower petals.

There was an uneasy quietness that had settled in the room. A woman was crying down the hall, a man screaming in agony. Maybe they had just lost a child, or maybe they were siblings and they had just lost a parent.

The thought of lost love made more petals rise in his throat and he quickly spat them into the trash. He grimaced at the smell of stale blood that had settled there. He stared down at the petals and hesitantly grabbed one from the puddle of new and old blood. He stared at it and looked up at the doctor, she smiled slightly and grabbed it from him.

She wiped away the blood from the yellow petal, she glanced back up at the taller man, who was clearly weak from the illness.

“It’s a sunflower petal, you have a good chance that the person you love has feelings for you too.” The doctor said, trying to give her patient some hope.

He smiled at her and nodded, “I’ll think about the operation, and, uh, just a quick question, will I still be able to work?”

The doctor nodded, adjusting her shirt. “Yes, at least until the flower makes it too hard to breathe. What do you do for work?”

“I’m the manager at the local grocery store, I also bag items there too.” He explained, getting up from the table and walking to the door.

Before the doctor could say anything else, he walked out of the room and down the hall. He passed a few people before he had to cough again, he covered his mouth with his hand, sighing at the sight of the bloody flower petals sticking to his hand. Somebody passing him noticed and gasped.

The woman touched his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and continued to walk on, grabbing a wet wipe and wiping off his hand. He couldn’t shake the look the woman had, or what she had said. It was almost as if she was saying sorry for a death, almost like he was already dead.

He went on to his car and quickly got in. He buckled his seat belt and started to drive. He was going to die, but he wasn’t going to die because of a car accident.

—

When he got home he was almost immediately surrounded by his friends. They pulled him to sit on the couch, staring at him intently.

“So?” His brother asked, tapping his foot rapidly. “What did the doctor say?”

He swallowed and looked down, he licked his lips. He couldn’t seem to get the taste of stale blood out of his mouth these days. What was he supposed to say? That he was fine? Tell them the truth?

He finally made his choice and took a deep breath, his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as he made his confession.

“I was right. It’s Hanahaki Disease.”

The room went silent instantly, it was like a morgue. Or like a funeral room already full of mourners. He looked up and around at his friends. He didn’t want to die, not this young. His eyes finally landed on the one who had caused him his illness. They made eye contact for a second before he looked away.

“W-what’re you gonna do?”

He shrugged helplessly, patting his youngest brother on the shoulder.

“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

They all watched as he stood up and left the room.

—

He sat in the living room and watched as the older man walked out. He looked around at his friends and they all looked down when they heard the horrible coughing come from his room.

He knew what he should do, but what if it wasn’t him causing it? He shook his head minutely and leaned his elbows on his knees. He was sat on the floor cross-legged. He didn’t know what to do, he felt horrible.

They all looked up when they heard rapid footsteps come out of the man’s room and into the bathroom. They all knew what was happening.

He swallowed and stood up, “I’ll go check on ��im.”

And as he left the others dispersed out of the room. He sighed and slowly walked into the bathroom, frowning when he saw the other man was still vomiting. He walked over and kneeled down behind him, rubbing his back gently.

The touch almost instantly caused another wave of half-digested food, blood, and flower petals to spill out of his mouth. His frown deepened and he brushed his friend’s golden-brown hair away from his forehead.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He whispered, still rubbing his back.

The older man laughed softly and nodded, “I sure hope so.”

—

He didn’t want to die, but lord he sure felt like he was going to every time he breathed. The sickness was starting to take its hold on him, on certain parts of his arms you could see the stems start to poke out from underneath his skin. He felt tired all the time, out of breath. He could still hold down most food, that was good.

But he was vomiting and coughing up the petals and tiny flowers more often, that wasn’t good. But he had developed an odd sort of appreciation for sunflowers. He had looked for the meaning in an old gardening book the person who had caused this illness owned.

‘ Sunflowers are symbols of adoration, loyalty, and longevity. ’

He thought the longevity part of the meaning was funny, seeing as the flower was slowly killing him from the inside out. He had also become oddly at peace with the thought of death, the idea of it. The concept of just not living anymore.

He didn’t want it to happen though, obviously, nobody did. Who wanted to die? nobody. Unless you were suicidal, of course. But he wasn’t, he still wanted to live. He still wanted to be able to get married, to the person who was causing him his illness, of course.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, it hurt to breathe. He had gone in for an x-ray yesterday, the flower was occupying almost half of his lungs now. He’d need to stop the physical labor soon. Maybe even now, his boss would understand. He had said he’d still pay him the double wage while he was sick.

Everybody acted like they were walking on eggshells around him since he had been diagnosed too. That was the worst part of the whole thing, he didn’t want people to think he was dying.

He sat at the table, a piece of paper in front of him and a pencil. He grabbed the pencil and started to write.

‘ Dear Quill,

I love you, ’

Before he could continue writing he had to cough up some more petals, he swallowed when he saw how many more petals were mixed into the blood. Was that normal?

He shook the thought off and started to write again

‘ I love you, please don’t blame yourself for the illness. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Please don’t hate me, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s your fault for me being sick. ’

More petals, that was barely a minute between coughs. That wasn’t normal, and he knew that. He also noticed how much harder it was to breathe, was the letter speeding the growth up? God, he hoped not. He just had to finish the letter, then he’d be okay with dying.

‘ I love you, please don’t blame yourself for the illness. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Please don’t hate me, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s your fault for me being sick. I love you unconditionally, hence the flower currently suffocating me. ’

More petals. More blood.

‘ Just know that I love you. ’

He coughed up more petals, an entire flower coming with it He was dying. He was dying right now. He’d surely die if he kept writing this letter. And in all honesty, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

‘ I love you. I love you. I l ’

He pushed the paper away from him, grabbing the trash can and heaving more and more petals, blood, and small sunflowers into it. He felt the vines start to make their way out of his mouth and around his neck. He started to panic and grabbed and pulled at the vines, but he couldn’t pull them loose.

He started to feel hot, he couldn’t breathe. Plant vines were wrapping themselves around his neck and squeezing, so that made sense. He didn’t want to die, he felt tears start fall down his face, but he couldn’t tell if they were water or blood.

He fell forward onto the table, reaching for his phone, it would be helpful if he could manage to talk. He brushed the screen with his fingertips, the cold glass the last thing he felt. He tried to scream as he felt the vines start to invade his body. He was suffocating. He tugged weakly at the vines at his neck. He choked out a final word, that no one except the walls and the table and flower would be able to hear.

“Quill..."

—

He and the rest of their friends all screamed when they saw the body lying limply at the table. He rushed forward to the older man, his heart-stopping when he saw the pale skin, still open eye and sunflower hanging out of the man’s mouth.

He was too late. The other man was gone. He was frozen in place, helpless to do anything else but stare at the corpse. He wanted to run, he wanted to run as far away as his legs could take him. But his legs were seemingly glued to the tile floor. Everything else was a blur, all he could do was stare at the corpse.

The body was covered with vines and flowers and blood. The flowers were sprouting out from his skin and underneath his clothes. The vines were wrapped tightly around his neck, blood spilling over them in some places. The sunflower in his mouth was covered in blood and there seemed to be a bit of his lungs. The thought made his stomach churn. The blood in his veins had been replaced with vines.

On his arms, the vines had forced themselves from out of his muscles and skin, blood pouring down his arms. His face was tinted a faint purple, the green vines more prominent under his eyes and on his cheeks. One of his eyes had been replaced with one of the bright yellow flowers. The blood dried to his face, but still pouring off his nose and dripping onto the wood of the table.

It could’ve been beautiful. It could’ve been if it hadn’t been so bloody. If it hadn’t been so disgustingly grotesque. If it hadn’t been a million more things. It would’ve been beautiful if it hadn’t been him.

He noticed the letter, that it had his name on it. He pulled it out from underneath the vine wrapped arm. He started to read it but couldn’t get past the first five words without wanting to vomit, the taste of acid stinging his tongue.

He was in shock, staring at the body of the man in front of him. It wasn’t just any man though, was it. It was him. It was Alden, it was his Alden. The man he met in the third grade, the man he had slowly fallen in love with in Junior year of high school.

His throat felt like sandpaper and he coughed into his hand, his blood running cold when he saw the flower petals. They were Anemone petals. ‘ Anemone: Forsaken, forgotten love, affection. ’

#Original Work #Original Writing #Original Story #Hanahaki Disease #Writing #My Writing #Tw Gore #Tw Body Horror #Tw Vomiting #Tw Suicide Mention #tw hanahaki #Tw Death

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professional-benaddict · 5 years

Note

Someone on a groupchat showed me a post that it said: "Make sure your sugar daddy takes the flu shot this year" and I need Peter being a little nurse and staying with Tony who caught the flu. Family friendly, if you want ;)

Im sksks I dont know what to say about what I wrote but heres a thing lmao

Sugar Daddy Tony, 18+ Sugar Baby Peter, sickfic, flu, whump, fluff, some silliness and Stephen and his Lamborghini

————————

”Steph?”

With a hum, the older man turned around to face Peter, but quickly fixed his gaze over to where the boy was pointing. They were stood in line at the store with a basket full of tissues, ingredients for chicken soup, cough drops and cold medicine. Stephen was holding the basket, even though Peter had protested that it was his boyfriend who was sick and that he should help out, the doctor had shushed him with a smirk and said how Peter’s hands will become rough if he carried too much heavy stuff. The boy had tried to pout and protest, but in the end he blushed a little. To be honest, he loved how everyone, not just Tony, treated him like a sugar baby.

”No.”

”Come on! It will cheer him up!”

”I’m not a nurse, but even I am offended by how horrible that outfit is. It’s unpractical and let alone unsanitary.”

”It’s just a costume, it’s just for fun, Doc.” Peter chirped, elbowing his friend teasingly in the ribs before stepping out of the line momentarily to grab the nurse outfit. Despite Stephen glaring at him as he returned, Peter placed the outfit in the basket the older man was holding. As a thank you, Peter stood up on his tip toes to plant a soft, but slightly sticky from lipgloss, kiss on the doctor’s cheek.

”You’ve become such a brat since you and Tony became a thing.” Stephen said, but there was no ill harm behind his words, nor did he move to wipe the glittery gloss from his cheek. Peter giggled.

The two of them made their way out the store quickly with their purchases and to the parking lot where Stephen had his Lamborghini parked. People might have thought that Stephen was a sugar daddy doing some shopping with his sugar baby, but that was not the reality. Still, they would have made a stunning pair. Climbing into the car and starting the roaring engine, Stephen began to drive Peter back to Tony’s place.

”You’ll call me if you need anything, all right? I won’t have you working yourself sick too by caring for him, you hear me?” Stephen said with some sternness as they started to get close to their destination.

”Yes, yes, Steph.” Peter assured with a chuckle as he drummed his fingers against his thigh along to the Pink Floyd that Stephen played on the speakers. Tony would kill him if he told him this, but in Peter’s mind Stephen had better taste in music than Tony.

”All right, here we are.” The doctor said as he pulled over to the entrance to the luxurious apartment building. ”You want me to help out with the stuff or cook the soup?”

”I thought you hated the nurse outfit and now you wanna come up and see it?” Peter laughed as he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the bag from the backseat.

”Oh God! You’re gonna put it on right now?”

”Of course! Either way, you’ve helped more than enough, Doc, I can do the rest. Thank you.” Peter thanked and again, he leaned over to give Stephen a kiss on the cheek.

”Okay, then. Give the old man my love, yeah?”

”Will do!”

And with that Peter climbed out of the car and headed to the entrance. Flashing the guard by the door a smile, the boy was let into the building and he headed through the luxurious lobby to the golden elevators. One of Peter’s favourite guards was stood by the elevator and pushed the button before Peter could even greet him.

”How are you, Thomas?”

”Welcome back, Mr Parker.”

”Thomas, please, it’s Peter.”

”Sorry, sorry.” The guard chuckled and let Peter enter the elevator first before following him and pushing the button for the 56th floor. ”Oh, is Mr Stark sick?” Thomas asked as he saw the contents of the plastic bag, considering how transparent it was. However, he did not ask about the nurse outfit, which Peter was sure he had seen too.

”Yeah, he is. I’m going to nurse him back to health.”

”That’s very sweet of you. Call the lobby if you need anything, yeah? And wish Mr Stark a speedy recovery.” Thomas said with a friendly smile as the elevator slowed down and the doors slid open with a soft ding. Stepping out, Peter waved the guard goodbye.

”Thanks, Thomas.”

There were only three apartments on the 56th floor, considering how enormous they were. Tony had instructed Peter not to tease their two neighbours about how they had the best apartment out of the three, which of course the boy did not do. Peter found both Mr and Mrs Berg to be very friendly, although he did not see them often, but old Ms Wilson Peter was more than familiar with. He would often go visit her and help around in her apartment. As a thank you, she would often come around and give Peter and Tony some of her delicious pastries when she apparently made “too much on accident”.

Pulling out his keycard, Peter entered the apartment and closed the door with his foot. Usually, he would have cried out to Tony by now that he was home, but considering how Tony was sick and probably sleeping, Peter entered quietly. After toeing off his shoes, he padded to the kitchen to put the food away. He decided to check on Tony first before putting on the outfit, just in case the old man was in a bad mood. Bringing the cough drops, cold medicine and a big glass of water with him, Peter headed down the hall to the master bedroom.

The bedroom was nearly pitch black, only slightly illuminated by one stripe of sunlight that got in though the crack in the thick curtains. The air in the room was thick and heavy, with a hint of warm feverish sweetness. In the middle of the king sized bed, Tony was laying on his front, however his head was not on the pillow, but on the mattress. He was only dressed in boxers, breathing heavily and a little noisily, but that was due to his stuffed sinuses. The duvet around him was a mess as he probably pushed them off only to pull them back over himself with the hot and cold flashes from the fever.

“Tony, babe…” Peter said gently, placing the glass and such on the bedside table before going to open the curtains a little. He could hear some stirring from the bed at the sudden brightness, but before he went to Tony he opened the window to let in some fresh air. “Tony…”

“Mhmm…” A low groan was all Peter got in response, and just based on that he knew that Tony’s voice was different due to the swelling in this throat. Sitting onto the side of the bed, Peter brought a hand to the older man’s forehead. Glassy and red eyes met brighter ones and Peter smiled down at Tony. Luckily, Tony did not feel much warmer compared to when Peter had checked before heading to college earlier that morning. Still, he grabbed the thermometer from the bedside table and took the protective cover off.

“Open up.” Peter instructed and the older man grunted a little as he turned onto his back before parting his lips so that the boy could place the thermometer under his tongue.

“That’s my line.” Tony grumbled.

“Shhh, don’t talk or the reading won’t be accurate.” Peter shushed back, bringing a hand up to stroke at Tony’s toned stomach gently.

They sat in silence while the thermometer took the reading, with only the autumn breeze whispering gently as it came through the window and freshened up the thick air in the room considerably. Eventually, the device beeped and Tony was about to lift his hand, but Peter was faster.

“100,50. How are you feeling?”

“Like I have 100,50 in fever.” Tony deadpanned back, only opening his eyes to slits and smirked just a little at the look Peter gave him. Clearing his throat a little, Tony tried again. “Head and throat hurts. More importantly however, how did the talk with your supervisor go? Did she approve your research question?”

“You’re dehydrated, here.” Peter answered shortly, picking up the glass that he had brought and offering it to Tony. The older man grunted again as he sat up a little and with his free hand, Peter helped place a pillow behind his back. Once he had finished one-fourth of the glass, Peter handed him the two white pills that would bring down his fever, but instead of taking them, Tony stuck his tongue out. With a roll of his eyes and a chuckle, Peter placed the two pills on Tony’s tongue and watched as he swallowed them with some more water before putting it aside. As much as Peter pretended to be annoyed by Tony’s childish behaviour, it was a good sign and meant that he wasn’t seriously ill.

“Now, tell me how the talk went.”

“I went to school, but only to reschedule the talk to next week. I didn’t wanna spend too much time away from you so I called Stephen to pick me up and we went to the store to pick up some supplies. He sends his love by the way, as does Thomas.”

“Thomas goggles too much at your ass.” Tony snapped back, to which Peter only giggled. “And what do you mean rescheduled? The first draft is due in two weeks you said. I’m an adult for Christ sake, I can deal with a cold, so you go back to school.”

“You’ve got the flu, babe.” Peter corrected. “You said your joints hurt this morning and that’s not a symptom of a cold, but the flu.”

“Whatever, whatever…” The older man grumbled and slipped down from his sitting position to lay back down. “What are you doing here then? Getting yourself sick too? Get out of here.” He argued and with a weak arm he gestured to the door. Before getting up, Peter patted Tony’s bare thigh and leaned over to kiss his temple.

“I’ll make you some toast and tea, yeah? I also got stuff to make chicken soup later.” Peter said as he circled the bed to head out. All he got in response was a groan from Tony.

Once Peter had the tea brewing and the toast in the toaster, his eyes fell upon the nurse outfit on the counter. Holding back excited giggles, Peter changed into it quickly before placing the toast and tea on a tray. Taking a deep breath, he began to head down the hall to the master bedroom again.

“How’s my favourite patient?” Peter said huskily by the door, waiting until Tony lifted his head up to look at him.

“Did my fever spike or are you wearing a cheap nurse outfit?”

(Smth like this maybe??)

#my prompts #starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

Text

A Detective in Junction

Read it on Ao3 | Chapter 1: Diving Back In

Warning: This is a Sequel to A Doctor in Union and may not make sense out of order

Sebastian groaned, glaring at his phone where it sat on the bedside table, lit up and buzzing and waking him. He slept lightly, napped through parts of the day, and there were many nights in which he didn’t sleep at all. He’d only barely fallen asleep. He should have ignored it, wrapped an arm around Stefano’s shoulders and gone back to sleep. No one ever texted him though, there had to be a reason for it.

He picked it up, the air chilly against his arm. Stefano grumbled in his sleep, if he was asleep, as the cold traveled down his back from the shift in blankets. The phone didn’t tell him much when he answered it.

‘Located JO. -JK’

His glare deepened, not understanding the code. The phone number wasn’t one that he recognized. For a moment he considered it a joke, especially because of the JK, but then his brain turned on fully and he bolted up out of bed, and there was no way that Stefano wasn’t awake after that.

He had to go. He had to go now.

He called the number back, even as Stefano groggily pulled himself up into a sitting position, a hot hand soft on his back.

“Where is he?” Sebastian gritted out, the sleepiness still in his voice, making it play-doh and slow.

“I don’t know if I should say it over the phone, otherwise I would have texted the coordinates,” Kidman sounded tired but in the way that she hadn’t slept yet. Sebastian could hear people in the background, lots of people.

“I thought you said Mobius was gone.”

“It is, but that still leaves a lot of other people out there wanting the technology. I haven’t even made it to the facility yet; I’m just hoping that I’ll be the first one to enter it.”

A panic was starting to grow in Sebastian’s chest, his heart pounding. Stefano was rubbing circles against his shoulder blade, trying to calm him. Joseph, found and possibly alive. He’d been hoping, he wasn’t a praying man but he’d considered it a few times, for Joseph to be alright. He definitely wasn’t alright but he was, possibly, salvageable. This was the first he’d heard anything about Joseph since finding out he was even alive.

“Where are you?” he switched tactics.

“I’m at the airport in Chattanooga, Tenessee.”

Sebastian pulled out of Stefano’s hold and out of the bed, dragging his jeans on from where he’d dropped them the night before. Stefano was shadowing him, which he did so well now that he was healthy enough to move on his own, silent in the darkness. If he hadn’t been there when Stefano got better, he would have been terrified of the change.

“I’m on my way.”

“We’re on our way,” Stefano corrected. Sebastian looked at him, seeing only the light of his phone reflecting in Stefano’s eye and nothing more.

“Text me when you get here,” Kidman hung up.

“So, where are we off to in the middle of the night?” Stefano asked, scooting past Sebastian for his cane and then over to the light switch, making them both half blind with light.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Sebastian grabbed a shirt and threw it on, not even looking at what it was. “And I need you here, to watch over Lily.”

Stefano opened a drawer in his dresser, pulling out a pair of dark olive slacks. “You sound as if it’s some sort of emergency and you should know by now that I don’t intend to make you go through something like that on your own. We can get a sitter for Lily.”

Sebastian paused a moment, uncertain. He was fairly certain that he’d never mentioned Joseph to Stefano. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t. Joseph had been such a huge part of his life and when he was gone, Sebastian had fallen into the worst depression of his life, not that he could claim all of that was on Joseph’s apparent death.

“It’s two in the morning,” Sebastian grumbled.

“Well, can it wait until an actually humane time of day then?” Stefano slipped into a pale yellow dress shirt, “You’re going to have to explain to both of us what’s going on, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, shit, I’m sorry,” Sebastian rubbed at his face. “Yeah, I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m just, I’m going to get ready in the mean time. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.”

Stefano nodded but didn’t get undressed. He moved with Sebastian in silence, packing along with him. He noted the low amount of clothing that Sebastian was packing and followed suit, as if he knew that there wouldn’t be much need for a change of clothes in whatever adventure Sebastian was going on. Sebastian wanted to give in, to tell him right then what was happening. He didn’t want to go over it twice though. He didn’t want to argue with Stefano right yet, even though he knew that this would lead to that. He didn’t want Stefano going with him, didn’t want him ever falling into STEM again.

By the time morning came and Lily was awake he was a jumbled pile of nerves, no matter how softly Stefano touched him, pressing kisses to his temple and sliding his hand along his back whenever he could. The moment that Stefano left him to go downstairs, to prepare breakfast and get coffee going Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe, trying to think. He’d been thinking all night but he still didn’t have any idea what he was going to say, how he was going to say it.

He went downstairs a few minutes later, finding Lily and Stefano at the dining room table talking about something in hushed tones. Lily looked nervous and he couldn’t read Stefano at all, even though he could see much more of his face than he used to, Stefano getting more comfortable with his hair being a bit shorter on the right side of his face.

“There you are,” Stefano gave him a soft smile and Sebastian’s chest tightened, the anxiety swelling. He couldn’t do this to them, not when they’d all gotten settled in. He didn’t want to do this at all, but he owed it to Joseph, didn’t trust anyone to go in there in his stead. “Would you mind alluding us on what had you so worried last night?”

Sebastian sat in his seat, a cup of coffee and a plate of toast and eggs already waiting for him. He sighed. They were so good to him, too good. They didn’t deserve any of this.

“Kidman texted me last night,” he said, not lifting his head to make eye contact. “She found my old partner, back from KCPD, in an abandoned Mobius facility. He’s over in Tennessee and I-

“And you intend to go there and fish him out, is that it?” Stefano interrupted, his cup hiding his face. “This would be Joseph, correct?”

Sebastian balked.

“I told him about Uncle Joseph,” Lily raised a hand meekly. “You went into the bad place with him the first time, right? You think he’s still in there or do you think he’s a bad guy now?”

Sebastian looked from Lily to Stefano, his mouth still open. “You knew about him?”

“Lily used him as an excellent teaching tool to explain your sexuality to me,” Stefano waved the question off. “You do realize that there is no way that you’re going alone, correct?”

“You’re not coming with, neither of you,” Sebastian glared, trying not to let any real anger shine through, “Kidman will be there, I’m not going to be alone. And no, I don’t think he’s Mobius. He’s probably still in STEM.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Stefano placed his coffee on the table, crossing his arms. “I am going with you.”

“You lost enough to STEM,” Sebastian shook his head, “and to Mobius. When I said you’re never going back there, I meant it.”

“And miss your reunion with your boyfriend? I think not. Sebastian, you lost far more to Mobius then I did; I lost most of what I had before I ever went to them. I do not intend to lose you to them as well! Do not forget, as well, that I had a great deal of power in Union, that I understood how to bend through the logic of that place. I would be irreplaceable to you.”

“I’m eleven years old!” Lily added, “I don’t want to come with but I’m old enough to watch out for myself! I think you’ll do way better together than you would alone! Buddy systems and all that!”

They were teaming up on him and not in the way that he’d expected. He’d thought that they’d both be against him going at all. They must have both known how much Joseph meant to him, which didn’t make any sense to him, Stefano didn’t seem like the kind of person who would be willing to share him, especially not in a romantic sense. He found himself smiling, the anxiety not gone but the anxiety for their responses at least drowned out.

---

The airport was busy and it was hard to get through the crowds with their suitcases and the cane that Stefano hated so much. He pretended he didn’t rely on it as much as he really did but, after a few hours on a cramped airplane his legs felt weak and stiff. He wanted to hold Sebastian’s hand, not the cane, but he rested against it with each step.

He could feel anxiety prick at him, a thick buzzing in his veins, an urge to stop and breathe at the same time that it was propelling him forward. He swallowed it down. He didn’t need it. It wasn’t helpful. Sebastian needed him to be strong right then. He didn’t know if he could be. He kept thinking about going back down, wondering if he would wake up this time, since he’d barely been able to last time. He’d been lucky last time and he’d been lucky every day for the past year; that luck would run out eventually.

Sebastian raised an arm and Stefano jumped, not expecting it. Sebastian was on his bad side, which he did when he was nervous, thinking that Stefano didn’t recognize it. Usually it made him feel safe, having someone he trusted protecting that side, but he couldn’t feel safe now, he couldn’t feel much aside from dread.

Sebastian was waving to a woman, to Juli, who was waiting for them at one of the little cafes that cost a fortune. Stefano had only met her a few times, when he was healing, and he knew that he had made a terrible series of impressions in such a weak and meager state. He held his head higher, tried to be more imposing. He’d come a long way.

She didn’t smile when she approached them, just clutched the briefcase at her side and made sure there was no one watching her. She’d told Sebastian that Mobius was done for, but she was far too paranoid for such a response. He’d say that it made him uneasy, but he was already uneasy.

“I rented a car, come on,” she said, in place of a greeting. They followed her in silence, out of the air conditioning and out into the heat, to a small black car that was so uncharacteristic that it had to be on purpose. She opened the trunk and they both put their bags inside before climbing into the back, Juli driving.

Once they were belted in, Stefano’s cane over his lap, Juli opened the briefcase, pulling out some files and passing them back. Stefano took one while Sebastian had the other two and the car was started and out of the parking lot before they even had them open.

The file that Stefano had was on the Core, a ten year old boy named Jonathon. His last name was a large black stripe. Stefano’s hands started to shake as he read about the boy, about his high scores in standardized tests, about his wealth of empathy, about his love of art. He was just like Lily, even the terminology was the same as what Sebastian had quoted from Mobius. Lily had been taken away in the falsified fire though and, for Jonathon, the opposite was true, the fire had claimed his parents. There was no one to care that he was gone.

Jonathon was written as being clever and artistic, showing great promise but with obsessive traits. Stefano wasn’t reading in too much depth, he didn’t want to know all of the details. This all felt too familiar. He glanced over at Sebastian’s file instead, where he was reading on a young woman, Amber Fairen. She was a romance writer, 25, but none of her stories had ever been published. At the top of the page was the same terminology that was on Jonathon’s, just with a different number: Core Candidate #9.

“Are there multiple Cores?” Stefano asked, reaching out for the other file in Sebastian’s lap.

“Yeah, this is the most experimental version of STEM I’ve ever heard of,” Juli explained. “There’s no people involved, so you aren’t going to have to deal with civilians, aside from the Cores. I guess they saw that there were too many issues with just having a single Core in place and decided to try with three.”

“And the reasoning for there being a child?” Stefano continued. Sebastian was only half listening but he perked up at that, anger flashing over his features.

“Same reason as with Lily. There’s a level of innocence in children that haven’t been exposed to trauma and they are impressionable. They’re easy to control and manipulate.”

Stefano reached out to put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. He could see the tension growing in his brow.

“No people though, that’s good, that means that there wont be any monsters, nothing like the Lost.”

Sebastian glanced at him. He swallowed. He’d never seen Sebastian so angry and he couldn’t help but feel like it was directed at him. He was just trying to get some answers though, know as much as he could before they went in.

“There’s another major difference, they implied a Lucid Unit for Cerebral Integration,” Juli explained. There was no answer from the two men and she paused, her eyes trained on the road before she went into it, collecting her thoughts, “I saw a little bit of the planning for the Luci, but I never saw it used, I didn’t know it was completed. It’s a sort of artificial intelligence that was put in place for ease of cataloging and mapping STEM, since the map could be changed by the Cores at any time. They’re also used to report any errors to the Mobius members who would enter for testing purposes.”

An artificial intelligence? Stefano had heard that such things were in development but he didn’t think anything like that would be usable so early. Mobius acted as if they were gods though, it was completely possible that they had surpassed the rest of the world by bypassing ethics and other pesky laws.

“You think the Luci could be dangerous?” Sebastian finally spoke up, handing Amber’s file over to Stefano. He didn’t open the next one. Stefano was certain it was Joseph’s.

“I’m not going to say they wouldn’t be. With the way the Cores and the other test subjects have altered the surroundings in the past, I wouldn’t trust anything to be safe really. Just take it slow.”

---

He didn’t think there was a chance, not really. He hadn’t imagined that Joseph could be alive, not after he saw Kidman shoot him, but then he’d gone back in after Lily and Kidman had told him that Joseph was alive. He’d been so distracted though, with rescuing Lily, with getting Stefano out of STEM and then back on his feet, that he hadn’t had time to really think about Joseph. Joseph, who had been in STEM this whole time, had been living in one of these nightmare worlds, with only two other people, who could have been allies or enemies.

He should have tried harder. He should have tried earlier. He shouldn’t have left Kidman to hunt for him on her own.

She pulled up to the facility, which looked like an old water purification building, with mildew growing up the walls and the grass overgrown and a few creeping vines climbing up the sides. Stefano gave him a small smile, a squeeze to the shoulder, before he unbuckled and climbed out of the car. Sebastian sighed, following his lead.

It reeked. It smelled like Beacon, like the sewers underneath it, where the water was a dark and deep red from all of the blood and viscera that was mixed in with the water. It smelled like rotten meat and cold bile and mildew and the sickeningly sweet scent of garbage on a hot day. As they drew closer to the door, which sat open with a chair shoved against it to keep it from closing. There was a pile of limbs and flies and mistakes, of the bodies that Juli must have dragged out of the building all on her own. She wasn’t looking at them, she was unreadable, her face blank as she went into the building.

It looked like a Mobius building on the inside, all white tile and cement, cold and barren and clean, aside from the swivel chair that was at the end of a long smear of blood. He squeezed Stefano’s hand. He shouldn’t have been here. This wasn’t Stefano’s job. Stefano gave him a small smile and a squeeze of the hand back, as if there was nothing wrong. Everything was wrong.

Kidman hadn’t been overly talkative before this, had always given more questions than she answered, but now she led them past offices and labs and examination rooms without a word. She was pale, a sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked like she was coming down with something. She may have been, just from touching all of those corpses.

The STEM room was more complicated than the one for Union, which was more complicated than the one for Beacon. There were three of those metal cylinders, the same kind that Lily had been in, in a cluster in the center, the wires and tubes coming from them bound in different colored transparent tubing to keep them separate and recognizable as they led to monitors. There were eight tubs around the tubes and they were ergonomic, actually built for comfort and short time use. The people who went in weren’t supposed to stay in, the trips were meant to be shorter.

There were blood stains everywhere.

“You should get dressed, do whatever you need to do before getting in,” Kidman explained. “I can give you a moment if you want.”

There were security cameras in the corners of the room. Those made him feel a lot less private than Kidman not being there would. He didn’t care if Kidman saw him naked, he didn’t have much shame in those regards, she’d seen him much worse than just naked. Stefano looked uncomfortable though and his eye was trained directly at one of the tubs as if it were something much more than it was. He was looking at it because he knew what it actually was.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” he shooed her away, letting go of Stefano’s hand to stroke up his arm. He didn’t even turn to watch her leave, had his attention on the man before him, who was pale and still intent on that tub. “Hey, you okay?”

Stefano bit his lip and nodded. “We’ll be in contact, won’t we? She can extract us whenever we need to be?”

“I have no intention of letting you out of my sight,” Sebastian promised, wished that his older promises were still holding up. “But yeah, we’ll both have communicators, remember? If we get separated, we’ll be able to find each other. And we can talk to Kidman whenever we need to.”

Stefano set his cane down, resting it against the tub. He drew closer to Sebastian, his hands finding Sebastian’s waist and stroking along it to wrap around him.

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I am,” Stefano admitted, laying his head against Sebastian’s chest. “You heard what she said. There won’t be any people in there, aside from the five of us.”

Sebastian hugged Stefano back. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Stefano shook his head against him. “It means there will be less obstacles, I’m sure, less monsters, less casualties if we fail, but it also means less distractions.”

Sebastian pulled away from him a bit, “Less distractions? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Before, when there were more minds connected, their obsession with normality, their ideas of what Union was supposed to be, made it harder to be manipulated for those of us who knew we were within a dream. I could create, of course, but when I did so in someplace other than my own space there was a chance that it would revert to how it had been. There will be less distractions in this STEM, which means that we’ll be able to change it without trying.”

“You think you’ll revert,” Sebastian sighed, realizing what Stefano was dancing around. He closed his eyes. “Stefano, that’s not going to happen. You were changed by Theodore, by Paolo, to become that killer. It’s up to you what you’ll become now. And I’ll be at your side all the while. If you think you’re going to falter, you can lean on me.”

“And if I hurt you?” Stefano asked.

“That’s not going to happen.” Sebastian kissed him, long and slow, reminding him that there was more to him than words. He was a man of action and that wasn’t always a good thing, but Stefano melted against his touch.

---

He had never expected to come back here. He had never wanted to. Juli had told them what to expect and it was so different from Union, but he still didn’t think that he was ready. He lay down in the tub, letting the fluids wash over him. His hands were on the sides of the tub though, knuckles white, and he turned to Sebastian, hoping for just one more argument, one more excuse as to why he shouldn’t come. He had been brave before, had acted like this wasn’t a compounding of trauma, but now it was happening, now it was real, and he wanted escape. Sebastian’s eyes were closed, his brows furrowed in concentration. They were going to do this.

“Don’t worry,” Juli put her hand on his shoulder, plugging him into the machine. “I’ll be out here for you. If it ever gets to be too much, you let me know. I’ll extract you as fast as I can.”

He nodded. That helped a little, even though he knew that if they came out they’d have to start over from the initial insertion point. He let go of the edges and let himself slide further under the liquid, taking one last look at the metal tanks that held the Cores.

This wasn’t like Union. In Union there had been only Lily and he hadn’t seen how they’d kept her in a metal chamber. There had been hundreds of tubs, like the ones that they were in, all of them citizens of that imaginary world.

He wasn’t ready for this. He’d ever be ready.

He closed his eye, following Sebastian’s lead, and suddenly he was falling back into the fluid, falling and plummeting, eye flying open to watch as so much of that white liquid fell away from him. He was unable to breathe, unable to fight against his drop into the depths. He felt himself start to choke on the nothing, reaching at nothing, wondering why Juli wasn’t pulling him up, wasn’t pulling him out. The liquid wasn’t that deep but he was miles down, the lights from outside a soft glow in the distance. He was struggling, trying to shove his way upward, but he felt a weight on his chest, a weight that was pulling him down. He opened his mouth but all that came out were the air bubbles that he so desperately needed.

He was dying. He had been a fool to agree to this. He’d known it at the time, too. But now he was drowning. Now he was suffocating. He was dying and it was pain and it was hands on his throat, in his lungs, shoving liquid into him.

And then it stopped and he was floating and there was no liquid around him. Either that or he didn’t need to breathe. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t suffering any more. He was slowly sliding down towards a field of pale blue grass, all of it reaching up for him, looking as if it would catch him and cradle him and pull him down into comfort. He looked around but he didn’t see Sebastian anywhere in this space. He wondered if Sebastian was in a place quite this beautiful or as terrifying.

He drew towards the bottom and he realized that there was no grass beneath him. The gentle swaying beneath him was not soft stocks but drowned fingers pale and blue from lack of air. They were attached to reaching arms, ready to grab him and keep him, to drag him down and make him one of them. He threw out his arms, trying to slow his decent, looking around for anything that he could grab onto. There was nothing but that field. He had no choice.

He kicked out, trying to keep the hands away. They did not care about broken or bloody fingers. The trailed their fingers over his socks, clung to his lounge wear, and held him tightly. He considered kicking off his pants in order to escape them but they were already holding him by the ankles, their skin so cold that it chilled him. It was elegant, in a way, the way that the hands all moved together, the field a garden of expression. It looked like an art piece that he would have made in a different life. Where he was now though, on this side of the exhibit, he was not so much an audience member as he was an unwilling participant.

The hands were heavier than the weight on his chest had been and when they grabbed they pulled, arms sliding into the field as if they were nothing more than tube worms. They were forced to release him as their fingers were separated by unadulterated earth. He stood among them, more tall ones waving at him, beckoning him closer, others trying to shove behind him. They were pointing him in a direction, towards a slanted building that kept flickering and flashing, glitching out into squares before scrambling into a different building altogether. There were five of them, if he had to guess, though it was confusing as some of them stole parts of others and they didn’t cycle in an order. The shorter ones were stretched out to match the heights of the taller ones, adding to the confusion. He did recognize the apartment building he had grown up in though and seeing it filled him with a dread that he had not allowed himself to feel while with Sebastian, ignoring his own painful childhood memories while recounting what good ones he still remembered.

There was no where else to go. He had to go towards the building. As he moved the arms shuffled and tightened, pulling down so he could cross, stepping on uncaring fingers as he went. Eventually the fingers ran out and the field looked like it was made out of black glass, only a few feet away from the entrance.

The building glitched, breaking into more pieces, breaking up further than it had any time before, and then shattering, colors and squares breaking apart and flying out, changing shape and color, forming a street that led to a town in the distance, wispy woods growing around it, trying to invade the cement past a weak wooden fence.

There was a fork and down the other side was Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be anywhere near as disoriented as he was. Sebastian was, however, smoking slightly and Stefano knew not to ask about whatever fire Sebastian had had to put out on his way here. He knew Sebastian’s past and he knew his nightmares. He didn’t need to bring them up.

He was glad to see that Sebastian was dressed like a normal person, no wandering around in the sweats that he had been in when they had stepped into the tubs just minutes before. He was wearing a brown, pinstriped vest and brown slacks that Stefano had never seen before, his white dress shirt unbuttoned a bit to reveal a hint of his chest, his neck unconstrained by a tie. Glancing down at himself he was glad to see that he was decently dressed as well, crimson slacks and a deep blue satin dress shirt, much more comfortable and much more him than the comfortable clothes he’d been told to wear. He recognized them as well, old clothes but feeling fresh and new, some of the first clothes he’d purchased once being released from the military’s care in America.

Stefano rushed over as best he could with the light limp that still threatened him so often, taking Sebastian’s hand in his own and drawing close. Sebastian gave his hand a light squeeze and offered a damaged smile, which Stefano would always take, even if it filled him with a concern he was still learning how to form.

“Regretting it yet?” Sebastian asked, trying to tease but there was no merriment in his voice.

Stefano tugged on his hand, making him stumble closer to him so he could press a kiss to his cheek, to pretend that what he had seen had not unsettled him and made his hands itch to create. “I would only regret it if I did not find you on the other side.”

Sebastian’s smile reached his eyes then, before they turned away, towards a lightly glowing figure down the road. Stefano turned his attention to her as well, although there was no where else he could look, eventually, as she was standing in front of a roundabout which held a large imposing tree. There was a wooden sign planted in the roundabout with a very familiar image of a tree that looked far more like a brain than could be coincidental.

“Hello,” the woman said as they drew near, her voice a perfect monotone. Stefano hated her immediately. Everything about her was flat and bland, even though she was glowing faintly, even through her bland gray pantsuit. “You may call me Luci. Welcome to Junction.”

Stefano was impressed. He wasn’t expecting the A.I. to look so human. It was accurate but uncanny, just slightly off in the motions.

She cocked her head, eyes looking them over in a mechanical manner and Stefano was brought to the conclusion that she was scanning thm. “I am an A.I., set in motion to accommodate and direct Mobius scientists through Junction. The fact that you do not recognize me give me cause to believe that you are an infiltration in the system. Name and registration, please.”

Sebastian looked at Stefano, but he had no registration here either.

“We were sent in for repairs,” Stefano explained, trying to come up with something believable, “and we are not altogether Mobius scientists. We were not given proper registration numbers as we were expected to meet other scientists here. Give us a moment to contact our superiors?”

She looked at him as blankly as before. “There have been no Mobius agents within STEM in 298 days. The Cores are out of alignment and need to be re-calibrated. There is a long list of repairs that need to be accomplished, but I cannot allow you entry until you have your registration.”

“Understood, my dear,” Stefano gave her a smile that would have charmed a real woman of her ilk. She did not respond to it. “We will return momentarily.”

He still had Sebastian’s hand in his own and he turned them to go back a few steps, pulling out the radio that was stuck on his belt, unnoticed until just then. Sebastian was looking at him quizzically but that was fine, there were many times in which Sebastian didn’t catch onto things as readily as he did.

“Juli? It seems we’ve run into a small hindrance.”

“Already? That’s impressive,” she sounded amused at least, if a little out of breath.

“We’ve met the illustrious Luci and she was hoping for our registration, could you make us some, right quick?”

He heard something drop heavily onto the floor, with a light squish that, paired with the lack of reality he was now in, reminded him greatly of his exhibit in City Hall. “Uh, yeah, give me a few seconds.”

He clipped the radio back onto his belt. Sebastian looked proud. He’d had people tell him that they were proud of him before, had people tell him how impressive his work was, but Sebastian was the first one who made him feel like it was true, that it wasn’t a stroke to his ego. He could still feel Luci’s cold eyes on them and, whatever mood that would swell in his heart was dashed before anything could come of it.

“Alright,” Juli sighed from her home on Stefano’s waist, “get the radio close up to it.”

Stefano returned to Luci and held out the radio, letting Juli state their names, falsified occupations, and a long list of numbers. Stefano tried to memorize his but it was too long and she only said it once before a small smile flitted onto Luci’s boring face.

“Welcome to Junction, might I point you in a direction of your choosing or shall I give you the list of malfunctions?”

“We’re heading for the Core, Joseph Cedric Oda,” Sebastian said, deliberate and to the point.

Luci seemed to think on that for a moment, getting confused more than a machine had any right to. “The Cores are not in proper alignment and may not be in the correct quadrants,” she explained. “Block 24A-31E is Core JO’s primary state of establishment, otherwise known as The Junction City Police Department.”

“Of course,” Sebastian gritted his teeth. Stefano didn’t understand why. They had both been detectives together, Sebastian had told him so on the flight over, so finding him in a place that he would find comfort and understanding in was not much of a surprise. “Thanks.”

“A pleasure to be of assistance,” Luci stilled, no longer active now that it was clear that Sebasastian was done speaking with her.

“Come on,” Sebastian squeezed his hand, “We’re going to need to get a move on, I don’t care if Juli said there are no monsters, this place gives me the creeps.”

Stefano nodded. Even with Luci offline he felt like he was being watched.

@chibi–raiden @detectivesebcas @angelicsociopath@sebcastellanyes @ruvikkin@lokis-queen-hepta-the-destroyer@samofgallifrey27 @supportivepsychopath @zellanoir

#the evil within 2 #joseph oda #sebastian castellanos #Stefano Valentini #fanfiction

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dinosourjimin-blog · 6 years

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~Beautiful Minds~Spencer Reid~part 7

I walked into the Bau swiping my card against the cold metal and pushing the doors open "whats this I here about you and Doctor Reid??"Morgan said "What!-when!-who told you!?? garcia!-what!"I said He laughed "chillax,I won't tell anybody"Morgan said "a certain technical analysis is the first name on my hit list!"I said "You have a hit list?"He asked "I do now!"I said "You've got a crush on spencer!"he said "don't!- say it so loud.."I looked around he laughed "It's okay Babycakes Secret's safe with me,for now"Morgan said "what secret?"I heard a voice behind me "NOthi-" "Sarah has a crush on Reid"Morgan told Prentice I hit him in the shoulder "I knew it!"Prentiss said "knew what?"reid appeared "Nothing!?!"I said "nothin"Morgan said "nope.."prentiss said he furrowed his brows "goodmorning"I said he laughed I looked at morgan "I will crush you with my PhD Derrick Morgan"I said "exit stage,agent Morgan"he said "Yeah you better run!"I said throwig an eraser at him spencer laughed "what was that about?"spence said "agent Sarah.Grey.Rossi...honey where have you been all my life?!"I heard a familiar voice Reid and I turned "Deeds!?"I said "In the flesh"he said I gave him a hug "what the hell are you doing in Virginia!!"I said "came to see my favorite girl what else?"He said "Your a bad liar,Oh! this is my friend and co worker..Spencer Reid"I said Spencer waved akwardly but Deed's being Deeds...he had an alpha male personality,he Ignored Spencer "Im here to work a case,and to see you of course"Deed's said "flatterring"I said "Isn't it?"Deed's said "the conferance room is..back this way"I said he followed Reid and I to the confrence room "Detective Deeds how wonderful to see you"Hotch said "Deed's is the best they could do? really?"dad said I shrugged"It is Quantico"I said "Okay ten year old Sammy Sparks, comes to his elementary school covered in blood when the teachers contacted his parents they found they had been murdered "and the kid just walks to school casually??"Deeds said "Sammy's autistic"I said "getting him to tell us what happened won't be easy"emily said "It's do-able"I said "what are you a specialist in autism now?"Deeds said Morgan was about to say something "Ignore him"I said ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'll be damned...Your dad has a private jet?"Deed's said "Yep.."I said reading over the file Deeds sat beside me on the couch putting his arm around me "Oh dear this is gonna be a long case...what the hell are you doing"I said "reading"he said pulling the file into his lap "Great,have it,I've memorized it"I said standing up "so what are you gonna ask the kid? gonna do some sign language? or maybe just click your tounge a few times that might work"Deeds said "Your making me angry"I said "You should cuff him so he doesn't hit himself"he said the team looked over at him but he didn't notice "Im gonna hurt you"I said "you and what army?"he said tugging my brown hair 'playfully' I elbowed him in the mouth and he fell to the floor I put my knee on Deed's chest "listen up Detective Douchebag,i don't need an army,and I'll be damned if your going near that kid,Im not sure why Terrick would send YOU of all people but your knowledge and charachter traits are as deep as a kiddy pool Your dominant personality Is really about to Piss me off!!!Your nothing but a bully with a badge deeds! and one more thing!! don't.touch.Me.Got it! cause I will send your Arrogant,alpha male ass backpacking back to boston in T minus three!!"I said My father simply laughed "You get your temper from your mother"He said ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hey Sammy"reid said softly as he entered the room awe "im doctor Spencer Reid...this Is agent Sarah Grey..we're looking for your aunt and your uncle.."spencer said sitting on the coffee table he had a notebook with a variety of 'L's everywhere "did 'L' take them??"Spencer said he said nothing the sheriff touched Sammy's shoulder,he screamed and started rocking back and forth "autistc children don't like to be touched"Spencer said Sammy started drawing L in mid air "I think he's trying to tell us something"Spencer said "most autistic chilren have special things like toys and books...Im gonna go to the crime scene to see if I can find it,maybe he'll feel more comfortable"I said Reid nodded "oh,and whatever Detective ass wipe says to you...just ignore him he's a shallow insecure bully"I said "i know,It was actually funny when you layed him out on the plane"he laughed i smiled ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There was a piano in Sammy's house...I found his favorite toy and something intresting...It was a flip book full of..sammy's life? at a certain time each day sammy would be somewhere..either at his parents store,playing the piano,at school..or somewhere else like the park at first i thought nothing of it but then it hit me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Look!"I said putting the flipbook on the table "a..childs flip book?"Deeds said "How are you still alive!!?-Sammy looks at this book every single day he see's his life in a constant pattern! this is his language!"I said "the text analyst can unscrabble autistic ten year old too,you never cease to impress"Deed's said "Shh!"I said pulling out sammy's notebook...I looked at the photos carefully "Reid what color socks are you wearing today?"I said "anchors and fish"He said dorkably GOD YOUR SO CUTE SPENCER FUCKING REID "This one!-It's reid's sock! and thats?? thats morgan's boot treds"I said "whats the L?"Hotch said "It's not an L,Its a time...Sammy has a strict schedule,he goes certain places at certain times! Its three o'clock!"I said "your extremely...confusing"Deeds said "dammit Deeds! the store!! go to the store and look at the security footage from three o'clock thursday evening!"I said ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The unsubs name was Todd harshly,he was on the verge of losing his house and killed the family for their money ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "h-hey sarah?? do you-...have a minute?"Reid said "I can make one for my favorite doctor"I said turning in my desk chair "i-uhm....there's a-...a meteaor shower tonight-...and- well i thought-...It might be intresting"He said I wasn't following but he was so friggin cute "d-do you wanna...wanna watch it-...with me?"He said I smiled brightly "I would love to"I said he smiled "great! great! follow me!"He said he led me to the roof of the Bau...to the very edge "sit"he said "What if I fall!"I said "Im not gonna let you fall Sarah I promise"he said extending his hand I touched Reids hand and it felt like a fire started in my gut... I put my legs one by one over the ledge and sat close to Reid,Who still held my hand "you have pretty hands.."I said observantly "Thank you.."he said I laughed "most people would say you had pretty-eyes or-Lips..or your hair looked nice-But-well I suppose thats nice about you to-i mean really there's nothihg wrong with your appearrence your just-just reid-pretty-Or-wait?that-what...and i-Like that about you??-what the hell am i saying"I said in a big rambeling cluster "I think you called me Pretty?"specer said "No!? what??-I-i did? did I??"I said " I think you did"He said "I-Im-...Im sorry it j-just sort of-came out i- didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-Im sorry.."I said "Im not uncomfortable at all.."reid said "Your-..not?"I said "no...I mean-...If it where up to me I would sit on this roof everynight if it meant you would hold my hand.."spencer said "Why me..there's other..Less damaged-wierd socially akward,prettier girls out there other than me,Im sure any of them would hold your hand"I said "Your not pretty...your artwork Sarah, every thing about you is created to be breath takingly gorgeous..and-...here lately I can't focus on anything when your in the room,and I love it when you talk because it gives me a reason to stare at you...your-smart and...kind and...I remember you telling me to find someone to hang onto so...so if you'll let me...I want to hang onto you...just like this...because-I-I really Like you..Sarah??and It's not some psychological thing t-that a doctor can cure It's something i don't understand,My chest feels tight when I hear your voice and when you laugh it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard-when your standing next to me i can't move,i get butterflies in my stomach and when im around you my headaches aren't so bad...and with several months of teasing,and convincing from morgan and Garcia..I like you"he said "nobody's really ever said anything like that to me before...I like you too...and I have for a while.."I said "c-can i-can I try something.."He said "Yes"I piped "close your eyes"he said I closed my eyes I felt a warm sensation on my lips and-holyshitimkissingspencerfuckingreidicantbreathsomeonecallhelpcallmydadcallthepopecallsomedamnbodyamidreaming!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gasped when he pulled away "w-what was that"I said "My first kiss?"Spencer said "what?!"I said "what!? whats wrong?"spencer said I kissed him again "Nothing! absolutley nothing!"I said he smiled i looked out to the sky "hey sarah..."he said "hmm?"I said "i think we missed the meteaor shower.."He said

#idea #hotch #garcia #jj #reid #imagine #spencerreid #rossi #morgan #cm #criminalminds #ncis #quantico

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fatesinthenight · 7 years

Text

Dark's Heart (part 10)

*I hope you enjoy the last part of this story. im so glad so many people liked it. It gets a little steamy here though. Hope you like it and happy reading :)*

You wake up slowly eyes fluttering open. Your still sleepy and snuggle into your pillow but then realize its not a pillow. You lift up and yawn softly and your eyes begin to adjust. You look around an notice your not in your room. Then you feel a hand move over your hip and look down. Dark is sleeping peacefully, his bare chest rises and falls softly and you smile at him. You remember now what happened last night as you snuggle back to Dark’s chest.

After he drove off with you he took you out to eat as a redo of first date you had. He took you to an Olive Garden saying he remembered you saying this was as fancy as you have gotten on a date. After that he took you to a park and just walked with you. You were still dressed for the wedding so the people who saw you two thought you both were married. You told them no and pointed at Dark saying “he just took me from my wedding and just didn’t want to change because this outfit was expensive and you wanted to at least wear it for the rest of the day”. You both waked around til the sun went down and when you got back in the car he drove to his house. You look at him to say something but he kisses you before you say anything.

Dark brings up a void to travel to and he brings you to his room. He lifts you in his arms his eyes looking so serious. He places you gently on the bed and moves over you propping himself up on his arms. Your heart is pounding so much and your red on your cheeks. Dark leans in and kisses you deeply. You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around you. One hand moves to hold your hip and the other your back. He pulls back to let you breath and you move up to kiss his neck making him give off a soft growl. He kisses you more intensely and licks your lips and tugs your bottom lip with his teeth softly. You forgot how to breath and he made it worse by making your lips part and begins to French kiss you. Your heart is bursting while he takes over your mouth and your hand curls into his hair making him grip your hip more tugging you closer til you have no space between you. Dark stops and when he does he loosens his tie and tosses it to the side never keeping his eyes off you. He loosens his collar and tugs your clothes so your shoulder is exposed. Dark kisses your shoulder leaving a slow trail of kisses from there to your neck. You let out a little noise and he grins kissing your lips again. He puts his hand on your clothes from the top and looks at you seriously.

“Tell me now and I will stop. I’m not that much of a monster to do something you don’t want to do.” Dark looks deep into your eyes, his gaze is so intense yet his eyes are gentle looking at the hint of brown in those dark eyes. You answer by kissing him and undo a button of his undershirt, a part of his chest exposed. He then kisses you again intensely and unbuttons his shirt.

You blush so red remembering how the rest of that went. You pull the covers up over your bare back cold and shy. You remember how gentle Dark was. How he ran his had down your side slowly. The way he made sure you were ok to go further. How close he held you and how he held your hand carefully to the side. The way he whispered your name in your ear and when you said his he buried his face in your neck. You falling asleep in his arms being soothed by him stroking your bare back slowly and pulling the covers up to cover you, kissing your head when you slept on his chest.

You move his hand to the side carefully trying not to wake him and slip away taking with you a sheet to cover you and you look around for clothes. You find Dark’s white button up shirt on the floor and pick it up. You drop the sheet and put it on and sit up and put on underwear and run into Darks closet and take a pair of some black shorts he wears to bed on warm days. With that you slowly walk out of his room and close the door as carefully as possible. You go downstairs and get a glass of water and then your tummy growls. You want to wait for someone to ask if you can use the kitchen but your stomach isn’t going to let you. So you look into the cabinets and find the fastest thing to make.

Willford wakes up to the smell of something cooking. He gets up and looks at his clock that reads 9:30 a.m. He sniffs the air and exhales happily. “Oooooo Host must be making breakfast now.” Willford happily jumps put of bed in his pajamas and rushes downstairs. “Hosty your the best I want all the bacon you go-” Willford stops when he sees you.

“O good morning Willford.” You look at him smiling. “Im sorry if I woke you up. Did I make to much noise?”

“Ummmm no… I smelled the bacon…” Willford saids slowly.

“O yea I got hungry sorry. Is it cool if I use your kitchen even if im already doing that.” You laugh a little.

“No no that’s fine… so ummm what’s on the menu?” Willford tries to remain cool butt he definitely knows why you are in the house so early in the morning. It makes him bashful for once seeing you in Dark’s clothes.

“O well bacon obviously. I’m also making some pancakes and eggs.” You point at the bowl that already has the batter mixed and another bowl with eggs already whisked. Willford noticed a bag of white chocolate chips, cinnamon, and brown sugar on the counter as well.

“Is that for the pancakes?” Willford points to the extra ingredients on the counter. Mostly focusing on the white chocolate chips.

“It is. I usually eat them with that in it but I didn’t want to add it if you guys didn’t like it.” You flip the bacon strips over.

“Well I do!!! I want extra chocolate with mine!!!” Will saids excited. “DO you want some help?”

“No that’s ok I got this. You sit down while I start the pancakes and eggs.” Will takes a seat at the table as you add the cinnamon and brown sugar to the mix. You pour a good scoop of mix on the pan and sprinkle a large amount of white chocolate chips on it.

“That smells good. Whats goin on here-” Ed sees you at the stove and is taken back by you.

“Hey Ed. Im making you all some breakfast. Park it over there with Will.” You smile at Ed and start on the eggs.

Ed sits with Willford still shocked. “Will.. how did (Y/N) get here and why are they in Dark’s clothes…”

“O you why.” Willford saids with a smirk and wiggling his mustache.

“Breakfast time is always import-” Silver stops when he sees you. “(Y/N)!! How did you…”

“Awww Silver you sleep on your outfit too awww that’s so cute.” You giggle. “I got some stuff ready. If you sit down I will start fixing some plates.”

Silver takes a seat and looks at Ed and Will. “Guys… did they…”

Ed pats Silvers head. “Silver remember our talk about the birds and the bees. You little innocent thing you.”

“Hey I know what it is. You know darn well I know what it is.” Silver saids blushing still. “I was with someone once”

“I really need some food.” Google drags in but fully wakes up seeing you.

“Google still sleepy? Don’t worry hopefully some food will charge you up. You still eat right?” You don’t know how Google works yet as he is an android.

“Umm I do eat at times still.” Google saids. He sits at the table. “By the way (Y/N) is dressed is it possible that they…”

“Don’t say it.” Willford saids holding his hand up at Google.

“I smell bacon…” Bim walks in and when he sees you he blinks twice not believing what he is seeing. “(Y/N) long time no see.”

“Ooooo Bim. Hi there. I saw you got into a relationship. That’s awesome!! Im happy for you.” You smile at him.

“Oo umm yes. Im happy I have my flower in my life now. Thank you.” Bim takes a seat at the table. “So am I seeing things or…”

“O yea its happening.” Willford saids still baffled.

“Im sorry but I thought I heard…” Host walks in with Dr.Iplier. Doc looks at you and sees what you are wearing, “(Y/N) how nice of you to join us this morning.” In the back of doc’s mind he is thinking is this really happening.

“Yes im glad to be here doctor. O Host I remember I read some of those books you told me the read. I loved them.” You say happily.

“Host is glad you liked his suggestions. Host also didn’t know you were here but feels an uneasy nervousness from the other egos. They have questions and also think that you stayed the night from your clothing meaning-” Doc stops Host from continuing and drags him to his seat. “Host is still confused to that is going on? Why are the others bashful?” Dr.Iplier whispers into Host’s ear and he blushes red. “O…. that’s why…”

When Yandere comes in he doesn’t mind you being there and waves at you happily like old friends and laughs to himself. “Someone got their senpi hehehehe.” When the King came in he hugged you and said he missed you. You hug him happily and then he notices your clothes.

“Why are you wearing Dark’s clothes?” The king tilts his head.

“O he lent them to me. I stayed over and he gave me this.” You say but are shy too.

“Oooo so like a sleepover!!" The King saids happily. You nod and he sits at the table.

"Sleep over… right…” Ed saids also still not believing it.

You finish the food and make plates for everyone. You serve it to everyone smiling and even start a pot of coffee for whoever wants any. The egos dig in and are loving the pancakes. Willford is very pleased with the large amount of chocolate chips is in his. They thank you and you also eat too with them. Then they all feel a deep dread coming into the kitchen and look to see Dark walk in. He has on a dark gray robe tied in the front his chest slightly exposed and some pajama pants on. He looks like he is brooding making the egos nervous.

“There you are sleepy. I made some breakfast for you.” You get up and skip over to him happily. “Let me get some for you.” You try to reach for a plate on the top cabinet and you feel Dark come up behind you and get it for you.

“I can do it myself.” Dark sounds grumpy.

“Why so grumpy this morning? I thought you were a morning person.” You asks he puts on eggs and bacon on his plate.

He sets it down on the counter and makes you lean against it cornering you. He give you a mad look and leans in pressing his head to yours. “You were gone.” He places his hands on your waist. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“O… im sorry.” You brush his hair with your hand softly. “I got really hungry so I came here. I thought I should at least make some breakfast for everyone.”

Dark still give you a upset look. “If your going to be doing that then do it only for me. I don’t share. Im very selfish.” He leans in and whispers into your ear. “I thought I made that perfectly clear last night how badly I want you.” He smiles devilishly and you blush red.

The other egos are looking at you both eyes wide. Host blushes red, “Host heard something he shouldn’t have… Host now hates how good his hearing is..” The others don’t even want to know with a pretty good idea on what Dark must have said. King doesn’t get it and when he tries to ask Yandere pats his head saying its an adult thing.

Dark moves away from you and gets his plate and to the others surprise gets some pancakes. Dark doesn’t really have a sweet tooth but he takes the pancakes spreading butter on it then putting on a small amount of syrup. He goes to the table and sits down eating in casually. He looks up to see everyone looking at him so confused. “What? Just because I don’t really like sweet food doesn’t mean im going to turn down something my darling made for me.” He eats his pancakes while the others are taken back by what he just said. He just called you his darling infront of everyone. “And stop looking at (Y/N) like that. Your embarrassing them because it is clearly obvious we had sex last night.” Dark saids casually.

“Dark!!!” You blush red and go to him and smack him repeatedly on the back embarrassed. Dark only smirks at your embarrassment.

The other egos are all dead at this point. Ed falls over from his chair. Silver’s pancake falls off his fork. Host puts his head down really embarrassed and silent. The doctor’s mouth is open and he runs a had through his hair. Yandere holds in laughter and the king blushes finally understanding what is going on. Google glitches out blushing blue not computing. Bim blushes and almost chokes on food. Willford on the other hand makes a phone call.

“Will its too early… what is it.” Mark was already up at the office with everyone.

“Is everyone there now?” Willford asks.

“Yea why?” Mark is curious.

“Put me on speaker!!!” Willford gets exited. Mark doesn't get it and pressed to option for speaker. “Darkiplier got laid!!! Ok bye.” Willford hangs up.

Mark looks at his phone eyes wide. He looks up at the others. Tyler’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t know what to say. Kathryn’s mouth is open but closes it losing her words. Amy looks confused and wonders what the heck just happened. Ethan is blushing and looks at Mark, “Did he just say what I think he just said.”

“Well dam.. Maybe not he wont be so grumpy anymore.” Kathryn saids.

Your back in Dark’s room with him still blushing. You turn to him to say something but are cut off by him already kissing you. He lifts you up and walks over to the bed and plops you on it. He gets on top of you going back to kissing you and his hand is on the buttons of your shirt. “You look so good in my clothes… but I prefer them off.” He undoes a button. He kisses you neck and undoes another button. He looks at you and comes in to kiss you and you boop his nose.

“O no mister. Your not getting anything now.” You challenge him.

Dark makes a very seducing look. “You sure about that…” He runs a hand under the shirt his fingers brushing your waist.

You flick his head. “Positive. That’s what you get for what you said back there.” You pout tat Dark and cross your arms.

Dark rolls over to his back. “You punishing me? For stating the obvious? I didn’t take you to be so shy about that subject.”

You sit up and look down at him. “It’s embarrassing still.”

“I really don’t care. But it was worth it to see the look on your face.” Dark chuckles.

“Your so evil.” You poke his chest.

Dark smiles at you and holds your hand. “O darling but that’s one of the things you love about me.” He cocks his head to the side. “Can you at least lay with me for a little longer?” Dark takes his robe off showing his bare chest. He so did that on purpose.

You look at him still in an mad pout but darn it he was good. You lay down beside him and rest your head on his chest. He strokes your head and his other arms is wrapped around your waist. You right above his heart and listen to it beat. It sounds nice to you and you snuggle to him, as you do his heartbeat goes fast for a second. “I made your heart flitter.” You smile.

Dark lifts your chin to look at him. “Only you can do that. You should feel powerful no one has ever done what you have accomplished.”

You lift up. “What did I do?”

Dark kisses you softly. “You took my heart. Something I didn’t think I had.”

You cuddle to his chest again to listen to his heart beat. “I love you Darkiplier.”

Dark kisses your head. “I love you (Y/N).”

The End

Ed is outside still trying to process what he just heard when his phone rang. “Hey there. You wouldn’t guess what I just witnessed this mornin.”

“Really? Save it for next time I see you.” the voice saids.

“Ok ok. Its a real kicker I tell ya.” Ed laughs. “So same time today? Same place?”

“Yea I will be there. My little girl is really exited to meet you I tell her about you a lot.” the voice on the other end blushes.

“Awww cant wait to meet the little lady. I will bring my son along too. He wants to meet you too. I may or may not have talked about you too.” Ed smiles softly.

“Its a date then. I would like to meet your son. Just please don’t try to sell him off with my daughter as a bundle.” The voice laughs.

“Hey I wasn’t going to… maybe not yet.” Ed jokes. “See you then partner.” Ed hags up.

The voice hags up and takes a deep breath. They feel nervous but feel it has been long enough for them and Ed go finally introduce their kids to each other. They call over their daughter. She skips to the voice. “What is it?” She tilts her head. The voice smiles, “Today we are going to meet my special friend cutie.”

“You mean your boyfriend?” The girl smiles excited. “I wanna meet the cowboy!!” The voice smiles, “Yes that’s him.”

*Well guys this is the last one for Dark but now we move onto see Ed get his chance at love. Hope you guys stick around to see how it goes for him :)*

#darkiplier #willford warfstache #bim trimmer #ed edgar #googleplier #silver shepherd #dr.iplier #the host #markiplier #Amy Nelson #apocolypto 12 #kathryn #crankgameplays #marks egos #fanfic

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dat-town · 7 years

Text

A love story to tell the kids

Characters: Changkyun (Monsta X I.M) & You

Setting: college au, slice of life

Genre: fluff

Words: 3048

Summary: You have always dreamt of falling in love with the One in such a unique way so it would be a love story worthy of telling your kids. But you didn’t quite imagined it like this.

Totally inspired by that kindergarten episode of Monsta X-Ray. (And the mall in my town that holds all kind of exhibitions from time to time.)

Dedicated to @restlessmaknae because she deserves all the fluff in the world♥

Babysitting isn't the way you pictured you would spend your first free weekend of summer holiday. University has been stressful and all you wanted to do after you finished with your exams is to relax. Preferably alone, watching k-dramas and eating all those yummy summer food you love so much. Everything was perfectly set up for your lazy plans. So when you aunt barges into your parents’ house at seven in the morning when you are still in your pyjamas you are not happy. Not at all.

You are alone because your parents usually leave for work early in the morning, although it depends on their shifts. You mother is a nurse and you father is a doctor in the same hospital. They met there during their resident years and it’s history since then. A true love story, you believe. It’s the closest thing to love you witnessed first-hand and not in books, movies or sad love songs. The feeling itself avoided you like plague ever since college started. Or maybe you just have been oblivious to the signs.

Since there’s nobody else home, you open the door for your aunt. You are still half asleep while you listen to Bora so you barely comprehend what she says. Something about a last-minute business meeting she has to attend and that she has nobody she could leave Minho.

Your four year old cousin looks at you with just as sleepy eyes as yours and you force yourself to smile. Lucky for your aunt you adore the little guy. He’s the cutest kid you’ve ever met and you don’t even like kids. They are noisy and whiny and have the weirdest ideas about life. Okay you had your own phase when you thought you can travel back in time so you can pet a dinosaur. Still, it proves your point: dealing with kids isn’t a piece of cake and you are definitely not a mother material. You are awkward with anyone younger than ten because you can’t talk about music or books with them.

"Don’t worry, Aunt Bora, we will have a good time. Right, Minnie?" you lightly elbow Minho who seems to fall asleep on the couch in any minute.

"Thank you! You are really a sweetheart! I will come pick him up around four! Please take him to the mall, I promised him he can see the Star Wars lego exhibition. But don’t let him eat ice cream. He has a sore throat ever since the last time I let him," your aunt kisses both you and his son on the cheeks before heading out with a wave.

You plop down on the couch with a loud sigh. That’s it about your plans for the day.

Minho does fall asleep in the end but you can’t sleep in anymore. You try to act like a reasonable adult and look out for the kid. Hopefully he won’t hurt himself or di anything stupid like choke on his food. You got through your first-aid course but you wouldn’t like to perform the learned things in action. Lucky for you, you both survive breakfast and you can wash the plates in peace while Minho watches a cartoon in the television.

You play games later, hide-and-seek and car racing but the little boy gets bored of everything quite quickly. Around 10am he whines about R2D2, his favourite Star Wars character and you have no choice but to take him to the mall downtown. You only give in because your aunt said so, otherwise you'd rather be the firm but good role model for your cousin than the one that spoils kids too much.

As soon as you arrive at the shopping mall, Minho is so jumpy he can’t stay put for god’s sake. You hold his hand so that he cannot run away in the crowd. It looks like Star Wars is still popular these days. Last month’s surrealist painting exhibition didn’t attract near as much visitors. Minho pulls you from one lego statue to another and you have to admit you're quite impressed or maybe there’re coupon days now. These lego figures and spaceships look kind of cool... until the 4th round around the corner. Your little cousin seems to believe he can find new exhibits if he goes around again and again. It makes you dizzy.

After you get bored, it takes at least ten minutes to convince him to do something else. Luckily, he finally agrees with that cute pout on his face to go to the bookstore so you can finally buy that book you've wanted for yourself for so long. However, it was a crucial mistake on your part to think that he would stay put if you leave him alone in the kids’ section to read some picture book until you go to the cashier’s desk. You only let go of his hand literally for five minutes to pay for the novel but he isn’t there where you left him when you go back. It makes you panic, the oxygen seems to be too little in your lungs as you gasp for air.

"Breathe! Okay, breathe, everything will be fine. He’s just playing hide-and-seek for sure," you try to calm yourself when both the cashier and the assistant in the shop say that they didn’t see where Minho went. You ask them to keep an eye on a little kid wandering around alone in case they saw him.

You try to call your aunt what to do but she doesn’t pick up, probably because she’s still at the meeting. You are on verge of crying while you are walking back and forth on the hallways checking each store, asking strangers about your cousin's whereabouts but there’s still no sign of him. You’re about to call someone, anyone, the police or whatever children protection associations exist when someone touches your shoulder gently. You jump at the lightest touch and turns on your hills to face him just to get taken aback by the familiar face.

You definitely didn’t expect to meet him of all people on a casual Saturday in the mall. The cute guy from your Economics class who is now smiling at your startled expression faintly and steps back not to invade your space.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a little out of it," he comments carefully forming the words, not at all offending or anything like that. He seems genuinely interested. He must have seen that you were kind of nervous and decided to be so nice and ask about your problem. On any other day you would have brushed it off saying that everything's just fine, that he could mind his own business but hey since we met what are you doing here? However, this is no ordinary day at all and you’re desperate. Even if it means telling your problems to a university classmate who you have never even talked to before.

Im Changkyun isn’t intimidating at all but he’s a very reserved person. He seems a little distant and cold at first because he doesn’t really like strangers. But when he’s with his friends, he can be carefree and a real jokester. You had the chance to see it yourself just before your Economics exam when he tried to calm down the worrying Minhyuk with doing impersonation of their professors.

"I lost my cousin," you reply without thinking, in a pitched voice an octave higher than usual as you take in the guy’s appearance. He’s dressed casually in torn-kneed jeans, a plain tee and a pair of nice sunglasses on the top of his head. Even though his hair is a little messy, he still looks great.

"What do you mean you lost them?" he furrows his brows in confusion and even if it’s frustrating you can understand why he’s baffled. Like how can one lost a child?

"He was there one minute and not in the next," you gulp burying your face in your hands. You feel so helpless and stupid. You had one job, why can’t you do it right?

"I will help you find him,” Changkyun offers so casually like it’s the most natural thing to do. But it isn’t. So far nobody whom you talked to offered help and you can’t name any other guy from uni that would willingly spend his precious alone time in the mall to find a lost child. So to say you are taken aback by his offer is an understatement. You peek out in between your fingers to glance at his boyish face and big chocolate eyes.

“Where did you look?" your classmate inquires while he fishes out his phone to search for the mall’s online map. You are still dumbfounded how prepared and professional he sounds. Maybe it’s not the first time he does this?

"Everywhere,” you sigh so exhausted. “I have no idea where he went. Like I was in the toy shop, at his favourite Star Wars figure and... Oh my god I can't believe it. I promised Aunt Bora I will look out for him. I'm such a terrible person.”

"Shh... don’t say this. You are just human! Don’t take it to your heart,” he tries to soothe you. His voice so caring and deeper than it should be for someone his age.

“What if someone kidnapped him?" you blurt out, your thoughts running a mile a minute. Okay, you know the possibility of such thing is low but you tend to exaggerate in emergency situations and you are not amused that Changkyun lets out a low chuckle at your absurd idea.

“I’m sure he just saw something interesting and followed it. We will find him," he flashes a reassuring smile at you.

"I have no other idea where to search anymore," you shake your head because you feel like the world is crumbling around you. The hope of finding your cousin and Changkyun’s voice are the only things that keep you going.

"Then search where you did already. He can always go back, right? We should split, so we can cover a bigger area. Do you have a picture of him?" he asks as collected as one could get and you feel silly for not thinking about it.

"Yeah, of course. Uhm... I can send it to you,” you tell him, uncertainty straining your voice. But Changkyun takes your phone without hesitation and puts his number in it while you keep talking. “His name is Minho, he’s four year old, around this tall, wears a Superman T-shirt and be sure not to startle him, because he’s a real scaredy-cat."

You send him one of your favourite selfies with your cousin: the one that was taken last Easter. Minho smiling widely, his cheeks covered in Nutella while he sits in your lap. Changkyun doesn’t comment on it but he smiles briefly then he goes back to concentrate on the more urgent issue.

"Okay so we can call each other if one of us finds him, otherwise let’s meet here in about half an hour," he says and you are so grateful that he’s the one assigning the tasks because you couldn’t do it in your current mental state.

"Alright."

"Good luck and don’t worry too much! I’m sure he’s doing more than okay."

"I hope so," you agree but you can’t seem to shake that anxious feeling off of you.

You check the mall from shop to shop once again searching for a boy around waist-height and your heart takes a leap every single time you see someone who has anything in common with Minho. You have no luck this time either and when you check your mobile you can see it’s already past twenty minutes since you part ways with Changkyun. You are so out of ideas you’re thinking of asking one of the security guards if you coul check the cameras or something when the shopping mall’s tannoy system announces in loud, clear voice:

“One lost boy in Superman T-shirt searches for his pretty cousin and tells her not to worry too much. He’s waiting at the front desk. I repeat: one lost boy...”

At first, you don’t pay attention but the second part of the sentence piques your interest and you practically run to the front desk when you put two and two together. Why does he have to be so extra? Couldn’t he just call you like you agreed? You fume but the moment you see Changkyun holding your little cousin’s hand, your heart immediately softens.

“You found him!” you squeal loudly and crouch down to pull Minho in your embrace. You kiss him on the forehead telling him that you worried so much and check for injuries but he seems completely fine. You are so happy that you almost forget about your classmate standing next to you until he speaks up:

“Yeah, he was near that colourful ice cream place,” he says while bending down to ruffle up the kiddo’s hair and Minho who is usually really shy with strangers smiles at him widely. “He is a smart boy. He didn’t want to come with me until I showed him the picture you sent me.”

“But now it seems like you are getting along well,” you remark and both of you stand up to talk more casually while you doesn’t let go of Minho’s hand, not even for a second.

Changkyun shrugs, his hair falling onto his forehead. “It’s easy because he’s adorable. But I worked at a day-care last summer so I’m quite good with kids.”

“I can see that,” you nod and can’t stop the smile forming on your lips as you imagine this well-grown baby-faced guy in midst of pre-schoolers. The sight is too cute.

“Noona...” Minho singsongs as he tugs at your dress and points at the ice cream shop’s neon lights where he was found. “I want it!”

“No you can't,” you shake your head no and Minho gives you a sulky look before turning towards your classmate with pleading eyes. Oh hell, no! They have become best friends in the last five minutes or what?

“Why not?” Changkyun furrows his eyebrows in confusion, not quite taking the little boy’s side but still therefore you explain diligently:

“His mother said so. She doesn’t want him to get sick again.”

“Then what about frozen yogurt with only a small amount of the actual thing and lots of toppings? It can be fun, too. What do you say, buddy? Do you want to eat something better than ice cream?”

You have to admit his idea is pretty decent and Minho loves putting all kinds of sweets - chocolate, caramel crunch, M&Ms, gummy bears etc. - into the big colourful cup he chose. He calls it the ‘rainbow dessert’ and it’s pretty accurate. Changkyun is tagging along with you without a word and he discusses the Star Wars cartoon with your 4-years-old cousin while you pay. The cashier gives you weird looks but you’re not sure if she’s judging you or she’s just jealous. Since Minho holds onto both your dress and your classmate’s hand it might look like that he’s your child even though you both are really young.

While you’re eating each of you laughs a lot and it seems so natural that the reality of the inevitable ending of this morning scares you. But it’s midday already and you have to take Minho home to make him lunch. Even if he can’t eat anything until 2pm because of all the sweets he just ate. But every good thing has to end.

“Thank you for helping me with him today. Not just finding him, for which I owe you big time but everything else too. You made it fun, it didn’t feel like babysitting at all.”

Changkyun’s eyes look like the universe full of bright stars when he answers.

“Anytime. I had a great time. Lot better than spending my time in the arcade alone actually. Thank you for letting me tagging along.”

“Anytime,” you copy him and as you stand there you don’t know what to do with yourself. What should you say? You have no idea but luckily for you, he does.

“Hey buddy, take care of your pretty cousin, okay? I trust in you,” he crouches down to shake hands with Minho and you blush at his words. You are not so sure though that you cousin understands what’s going on but he nods anyway and based on his sad pout he isn’t happy about going home either. Or he will probably miss Changkyun, too. Because you will, that’s sure. It’s unbelievable how feelings change under only a few hours, isn’t it? A day ago Changkyun was barely an acquaintance, just a cute classmate. But now? You are pretty sure you are developing a crush on him. You have to catch your breath when he stands up and turns to you with a cute, nervous expression on his face.

"Hey... would you like to repeat it someday? But without Minho this time?"

You blink. Did you hear right? Just the two of you? Are you dreaming? You have to make sure he’s thinking of what you think so you ask hesitantly:

"Like a date?"

"Yeah... like a date. If you’d like to," he bits down on his lower lip shyly and laughs a little.

"I’d love to," you answer maybe a little too eagerly but you can’t seem to regret it as Changkyun’s dimples are showing when he smiles.

“Then I’ll text you,” he promises, beaming.

“I’ll wait,” you can’t stop smiling either as you wave him goodbye. Who would have thought that you will leave the mall with planned date? It would surely make a love story worth of telling your kids one day... Woah, slow down girl! Already thinking about kids? What is wrong with you?

You shake your head, clearing your mind when your phone rings and you see Bora’s name on the screen.

“You called me, sorry I couldn’t answer. Is everything okay?” she asks in worry when you pick up. You look down at Minho while you walk side by side and you think of Changkyun’s smile.

“Yeah, sorry I bothered you. Everything is perfect.”

It couldn’t be better.

#kwritersnet #i.m scenario #i.m fluff #im changkyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x fluff #monsta x oneshot #stories

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poetobservationz · 7 years

Text

Entrances & Exits

A review and commentary on the past year, and welcoming 2017.

“Who are you really, wanderer?”

Last week & last year was so strange.

my 2016 can be demonstrated by this:

I cleared out so much of what was not serving me.

In particular pain from an old lover, each of us unable to say goodbye,

was muted, prompted by an event that would be okay for a friend to hear.

but not somebody who he supposedly held dear.

and I had to end it. For my sanity.

I blocked him. (Called Leo).

I was in pain without needing to be. And that is why I am writing at all; it has always been my sanctuary, and place where I can’t fall,

but rise.

Only two hours after I blocked him, did I go back to my phone.

I found two messages with words similar to my own:

(Called Bala) “Can we talk? I need your advice, I know its been awhile. Im not here to fuck up your life, I just need 10 minutes. Are you home?”

I invited him over. We tried to stay sober but the familiarity forced the desire to be lifted even higher.

We reviewed our last year and a half.

I heard his stories, I made him laugh.

I was his friend, again. Able to give constructive advice about life, his family, and his girlfriend.

And to hear he was in love didn’t hurt. And there was so much to that for me.

Not only had I just blocked someone who was dear to me, but I was afraid of what it would feel like to know he’s ok without me.

and I was presented with knowing EXACTLY what I would feel. Only love. Platonic, not the sickly chronic kind I was afraid of.

And someday, I will sit with the man I just blocked, criss-cross applesauce, and we will reflect happily, and share stories, and maybe for once he’d listen to my advice.

When I was doing Bala’s Tarot card reading, he cried.

I knew I was reawakening a feeling inside on top of providing the truth he so desperately needed to hear.

That feeling was friendship.

and I felt it too, as true as any, because when we did; we knew each other very well.

but our lives were so different now and we both just went through hell.

and, I swear, to know he loved another didn’t hurt like I thought it would.

The truth was so pure, so simply understood. We learned to love in as healthy of a way we could and then when that changed we had to say goodbye but we were afraid of letting love die. He finally cut it off, and for that I am grateful. It made room for me to remain faithful to Leo.

and upon this reflection, should I care to mention I found the medicine again?

He is all I have ever dreamed of, yet I am hesitant still. My scars are not fully healed.

And I am going so far away, to a place across the sea.

and I don’t want emotional baggage with me.

2017 thus far has been far more about clarity than 2016 was. I am determined to speak honestly, and be patient with reality. I am so much stronger because of the pains that were allotted me in 2016.

Already there has been so many goodbyes. So much death.

I have told many friends the plots within my 2016.

I have said I had a break, or death, to my heart, body, and mind;

which subsequently left me with soul.

When the only thing you have to depend on is your soul, you’d be surprised how strong you can feel.

Because you don’t have to deal with the shit from your heart, body, or mind that happens all the time because the only thing you have left is this third eye, see all, know all TRUTH.

and it forces you to look in the mirror.

My soul, each time I had a break, whispered the words “Who are you really, wanderer?”

And answering that question, HURTS usually. But I didn’t have any sensitivity or sadness left to give it. No self pity.

Only connection, truth and love.

Heart:

The heartbreak was saying goodbye to a boy I loved so truly, and then having to live with him everyday after. Goodbye’s are hard to give when you live with the waved.

And before I said goodbye, officially, I desperately needed him to help me. I needed help, I was depressed and he walked away again and again and fell out of love wth me because I wasn’t my normally joyous self. And he couldn’t love me in the dark. Maybe it hurt too much for him.

so I said goodbye.

and I woke up every day with a dull ache, that would’ve been easier if I didn’t have to see his face. But I tried so hard. And it fucking hurt. I’m still processing how I even survived that.

“Who are you really, wanderer?”

Body:

During that, my foot broke. I mean, really, really broke.

My dad was a foot doctor, and he died. And I broke my foot for the 6th time since he was last alive.

And the doctors I had were worried about me. They didn’t know why I had broken my foot so many times. I told them it was a direct message from my dad to “Slow down little girl”, but of course they were not open to that. So they did tests that pushed the boundaries of my mind and made me contemplate life. And they still scare me.

And I was stuck in bed, so much of the time. And I was sad. And all the exciting responsibilities I was so sure of being able to do, I couldn’t even get too. I crutched everywhere and my arms fucking hurt. My body was exhausted every day and I was so lonely. My friends would go out and I would be unmotivated to, because I was broken and sad and blue. And a girl on crutches, drunk? Sounds like an easy target for karma or a bad guy or accident. I got so depressed, and I woke up each day with a question in my breath:

“Who are you really, wanderer?”

Mind:

And during all that, besides the pain in my heart and body which impacted my grieving mind for the worst, I was thrown another curveball.

My dorm room was broken into.

My medication that kept me kicking, was stolen. It was medication that helped and aided my brain of all sorts, including life saving migraine relief, and aids to my ADD.

Money was stolen.

Precious items, stolen.

Safety, peace of mind, love of home, shelter: stolen.

I was completely and utterly a mess.

The investigator told me this was her most interesting case in 15 years of service at my school. She said this kind of thing was unprecedented.

She said it appeared Personal to me.

She had no fucking idea.

But all I could hear, was the quiet singing “Who are you really, wanderer?”, begging me to declare who I was when I had nothing, when I was broken down, and destroyed. It was time to be strong.

Resilient, a word a friend called me over the phone last night, explaining why I got through my semester. “Because you’re resilient” He said, too which I realized he thought of resilience as a quality, that you’re either born with, or not. He thinks he was not.

But if I am resilient, it was a choice. It was an expectation I had of myself. It is who the wanderer is: whomever she choose to be.

Soul:

It took time, but I realized my gain because of that repeated question.

My heart learned to be okay with pain; not escape it, or run, but healthy was to exhibit and go through it. I learned that I could get through this and get out the other side. And be okay. Be so okay. I was able to say goodbye this time, and not necessarily for good, but for better. For us both. And without that, we’d both still be suffering and I wouldn’t be departing for world travels. I had to change to make change.

My body learned to be broken, and that its capable of amazing things in being so. My arms are not flabby, baggy arms anymore. They have defined muscles. They are beautiful. My feet are healing from the break and the depended on pressure. And they are enduring, and good. And I push them, instead of ignoring them and their abilities. My body was there for me my entire life, healing it, getting in touch with it, forcibly taking care of it was a hard lesson but a call to action. I only became stronger.

My mind learned to go through a triathlon of a semester and make it out, as sane as ever. It taught me that when your mind is broken, its more like an egg cracking; it gives birth to things you never dreamed of, impossibilities and probabilities realized and born. It was a forced rebirth to my line of thinking; I don’t need medication to make me, me. My brain was mine all along. I don’t need possessions to feel at home; I need the people in it. It was a restoration of the knowledge I had as a child. My destiny is in my hands. And my hands are incredibly capable. And like a newly hatched robin, I had to jump off the ledge of comfort and home, and dive into the sky, with only the belief and instinct, that after everything, I can fly.

and my soul repeats the question, resonating and clear, no longer a whisper, sometimes so loud I think others can hear: “Who are you really, wanderer?”

“They miss the whisper that runs any day in your mind, "Who are you really, wanderer?"-- and the answer you have to give no matter how dark and cold the world around you is: "Maybe I'm a king.”

Exeunt all.

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