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ox1-lovesick · 1 year

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hi love I HAVE A RQQQ- TXT OR ENHA WITH A SICK S/O PLEASE!! i have a killer cold and the worst dizzy spells ever nd i would love some comfort 😞😞 thank u sm

★ ✯ ☆ TXT WITH A SICK!S/O

★ pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff, comfort warnings. mentions of food wc. 100-300 each

✯ synopsis. txt with a sick s/o!!

☆ a/n. firstly i am so sorry this took 4 months 💀 writers block is the bane of my existence. i do hope this manages to bring you some comfort though :( please do take care of yourself and get well soon! (even though you are most likely not sick anymore 😭) also how ironic is it that i'm currently sick... :')

YEONJUN | 연준

by your side 100% of the time you cannot get rid of him.

he's over your bed when you wake up in the morning, waiting outside the bathroom door for you, laying right next to while you're sleeping. everywhere you are, so is yeonjun

will bend over backwards to get you anything you need

water? medicine? soup? more blankets? less blankets? he's on it before you can even ask

cooks for you !!! tries to make your food as interesting as possible so you won't get bored, without adding things that will make you feel worse or aren't good for you

you're bedridden. don't even try to fight him

he won't let you lift a finger, he wants you to get as much rest as possible so you can get better as quickly as possible

infact don't even speak, he'll learn morse code so you can just beep him whenever you need

if his schedule allows he'll stay home with you and be by your side every second of the day, if not he's texting you every free moment he has to make sure you're okay

would definitely call in sick if you were feeling particularly tired and need his care that day

has multiple reminders to make sure you're taking your medicine on time, will scold you if you're even a second late

he'll never tell you but he secretly enjoys you being sick . . .

he love love loves to take care of you, especially when you call on him to do things for you it makes him all giddy knowing you need him (he's not a creep i swear)

he's ontop of you so much he probably catches whatever you have

atleast you're sick together

SOOBIN | 수빈

hates to see you sick

1. because it's gross 2. because he hates seeing you in pain but mainly because it's gross

you're not staying in his bed i'm sorry he's gonna come over to your house to take care of you during the day and go home to his snot free blankets at night

gets your medicine mixed up all the time and complains it's the doctor's fault for prescribing ones that look so similar

low-key takes advantage of this situation so he can skip work and spend some quality time with you LMAOOO

"sorry guys yn's still dying i can't come to work today"

at first it's fun because you just have your average head cold so he doesn't worry too much

but then it starts getting worse and he comes home to you falling over yourself in the kitchen because of your dizzy spells and nearly has a stroke

panik

he starts stressing like a mad man after that

probably gets himself sick just with how stressed out he is it's a problem

definitely calls his mom for help he doesn't know what to do

updates her on every little thing you do

"mom they just took a really deep breath does that mean something"

buys the entire pharmacy

wants to kick himself for not taking it seriously when you first got sick he feels so guilty 😭

although you did enjoy his company and the endless marvel marathons so all is well

will not leave you alone. you have to shit with the door open.

will do everything for you even if you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself

from brushing your hair to fluffing your pillows he's gonna do it all

he'll even clean for you, that's his ultimate declaration of love

in the end he didn't really do much to nurse you back to health but A for effort

BEOMGYU | 범규

i know practically everyone in moaville would say he'd tease the shit out of you but in my head he'd be the most worried for you

googles every single one of your symptoms and then cries himself to sleep because myonlineclinic.com told him you have cholera and 6 days to live

the only reason he'd tease you is to mask his worry

he'd watch you go through 60 boxes of tissues and be like "omg my snotty baby" but on the inside he's freaking out 😭

your pain is his pain, the way you feel affects him and his mood drastically

he's irritable when you are, he's tired when you are, your appetites probably sync too

puts a curse on whoever spread their nasty germs to you with ginger roots and vinegar

i think he'd also be the most sympathetic since he gets sick a lot more often than the others

so gentle and understanding compared to his usual self it's a little scary 😭

surprisingly good at negotiation like you're being stubborn because you don't want to take your medicine and he's like "if you drink the cough syrup i'll let you listen to the demos for our next comeback" and before you know it you've sold your childhood home to him for 3/4 of the initial price

will whip out his guitar and sing for you in a heartbeat if you ask him too

obviously tries to crack jokes and make you smile so you don't feel too miserable, he feels so accomplished even if you just scoff at him 🙁

gets back to his usual annoying self once you're better though

TAEHYUN | 태현

ironically, he doesn't know what to do

he rarely gets sick and when he does it passes in a day or two, so when you've been coughing like you have bronchitis for the past week he feels so lost

his first instinct is to take you to the doctor to figure out what's wrong but gets into a fight with doctor for charging him 19382928 won just to press his hand to your forehead and tell him you have a head cold (terry is against this capitalist society)

also buys the entire pharmacy

changes your entire lifestyle to the maximum efficiency so you get better as quickly as possible and makes sure you stick to it

strict like a prison warden, sometimes you wonder if he actually loves you

which he obviously does, but it's hard to believe so when he avoids any unnecessary contact with you as if you have the plague

takes you outside every once in a while to get some fresh air, he feels stuffy just watching you sit around

it also keeps you active 💪

he's always pestering you to wash your hands

will not let you touch him otherwise

makes sure he keeps your space clean, always has tissues and anything else you might need within your reach

at your aid 24/7

you take up a colossal space in his heart he's so soft for you

flying to your side before you even say anything

you don't even have to tbh he can read your mind

"how'd you know i wanted water?" "you looked thirsty"

if he notices you're feeling extra miserable he'll sing for you to cheer you up

swallows his pride because he's down bad and pulls out his best southern accent when you ask him to sing country music

he will be teased for the next millenia but it was worth it for you

he's like an overbearing mother but you get better the fastest when he's taking care of you

HUENINGKAI | 휴닝카이

another mama's boy

probably calls his sisters too

hiyyih would tell him to soak your pills in vegetable oil as a joke but he'll actually do it because he's just that hopeless

he's unable to think straight he just wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better 😭

although he gets the hang of it pretty quickly, he's a fast learner and genuinely enjoys taking care of you

always praising you !!

"wow yn!! i can't believe you ate all your soup!!! you're so cool!!!"

tries to distract you by showing you his entire collection of pokemon cards

probably lies and tells you they're all super rare and he's the only one in the world who has them

does his best not to cause you any stress, he just wants you to focus on resting

the things this man does because he loves you istg

he cleans the entire dorm because it's a breeding ground for bacteria and he doesn't want anything making you more sick

the guys come home to the house spotless they're just like 🤯🤯🤯🤯

taehyun asks you to get sick more often if it means he doesn't have to fight his way through the ironing board and bike to get to the sink

he even lets you play on his DS he's down bad

side rant: i feel like kai is secretly a neat freak, he abhors the sight of filth but is just too lazy to do anything about it so he forces himself to deal with it 💀

anyway he's such a sweetheart :( does his best to keep the mood up even if you're feeling miserable because your nose is so filled with so much snot that you can't breathe

his positive energy definitely rubs off on you!!!

he actually does a good job taking care of you, he's a bit stressed at first but you're back to good health in no time !!!

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ohwynne · 1 month

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TIMING: Early April PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere & Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Worm Row SUMMARY: Kaden helps Emilio and Wynne get a passport. They half-succeed. WARNINGS: None.

Kaden didn’t know the details of why the hell Emilio needed to convince Nora to come home from another country but those didn’t matter too much. Despite the issues Monty may have with the guy, Emilio was another hunter – one who seemed to have similar enough values to his own which was rare to say the least. He was going to help out. It’s what hunters did for one another, that was how you survived. And however annoying he might find Nora, the connection Emilio had with her was clear. If the situations were reversed, if it had been Alex, he knew the slayer would do whatever he could to help him. It was an easy choice to connect him and Wynne to Buzzy to get whatever papers they might need fast, no matter what that meant he might owe the guy this time.

The office in question wasn’t too far from Axis, funny enough. Kaden waited a few doors down from the entrance for the others, he knew Buzzy liked to keep it discreet. “This way,” he said when he saw the pair of them. He’d seen Wynne in and out of the cabin a few times and knew they were a good kid. If they were willing to put themselves out there for Nora, too, he had to believe Nora was worth going out on a limb for after all. Kaden approached the door of Marcelli & Associates Ltd. and rapped on the door in a pattern that was probably morse code for something that he never bothered learning. Two hard knocks back and he knew they were cleared and everyone was on the same page of what kind of business they were here for.

Once they were all shuffled inside, Kaden shut the door and addressed the man at the desk. “Long time no see, Buzzy,” he said with a nod. “Got a favor to ask you.”

“And you brought the whole gang with you to do it,” the man replied. Buzzy looked up from whatever notes he was scrawling and got a good look at all of them for the first time, his face souring in a way that Kaden didn’t get a good feeling about. “You know I don’t hand out favors, Langley. Even to you. And especially not to him.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down Emilio and it was clear that this wasn’t the first time they’d met. Putain de merde, what the fuck had the slayer done to piss this guy off already? Besides being himself. “Anyway, you,” he said to Wynne. “Who are you, kid? You a hunter, too? You must be some kind of special if Langley’s daring to drag you in to see me. What do you need?”

—

Citizenship had never been a particularly big concern for Emilio. It was the last thing most hunters worried about. When your ‘life plans’ included dying a violent death before you were forty, entering into a long, drawn out process for the grand prize of paperwork wasn’t really high on your to do list. He never thought it would bite him in the ass like this, though. Nora, in another country, in a community he had more than just a bad feeling about, and Emilio trapped an ocean away with no way to get to her… It wasn’t something he wanted to experience. So, when Langley mentioned knowing a guy who could get him papers good enough to land him on an airplane, Emilio hadn’t hesitated. It would cut the time involved in the process for Wynne in half, too.

But… the closer they got to the guy’s ‘office,’ the less confident Emilio felt. The streets were familiar, obviously — this was close to his apartment, after all. But the building Kaden led them to was familiar, too. “What did you say this guy’s name was again?” Emilio asked lowly as Kaden knocked on the door. Before the ranger could answer, said door was swinging open to reveal an unfortunately familiar face. Emilio tensed, jaw tightening. Right.

Of course Kaden’s contact was someone Axis had once screwed over. He could still remember the case — some trembling twenty-something who’d had her identity stolen, begging for a solution in a way Emilio was never going to be able to say no to. He wasn’t sure what the end result had been for Buzzy’s business, but he knew it had taken a hell of a hit. And, given the look the other man was giving Emilio, he hadn’t exactly forgotten about it. Maybe if Emilio stayed quiet enough, he could still get what he needed out of this. He glanced to Wynne, figuring their odds were better here if he let them do the talking.

—

They wondered if there was such a thing as a chronically nervous person in the field of psychology. If there was, they probably were one. Wynne walked into Marcelli & Associates Ltd. with a tightness in their stomach, even if they were with two strong and capable hunters. At least, they assumed that Kaden was strong and capable. It seemed like a fair assessment, up until now, especially considering his willingness to help with this very illegal thing.

That was one of the sources of their discomfort. Though they didn’t always agree with the law and especially not the government, they didn’t enjoy breaking rules. But no longer were they as passive as they had once been and it was simple, really. They needed to help their friend in need, who would do the same for them. So they tried to stand straight and tried to make polite eye contact with the man called Buzzy. (Was that his real name?) Buzzy did not like Emilio, which was a red flag, even if Emilio was very good at making enemies. Wynne tried not to jump to his defense.

They were asked a question, after all, and they were good at answering questions. “I’m Wynne and I need a passport. It’s not — it won’t have to be a favor,” they clarified, “We will pay for it, of course.” That was something they had grown more used to, over this past year. The power of money. How it could make many things happen, even if they hadn’t quite figured out how to do that. “And oh, no. I’m not a hunter. I’m just –” They weren’t sure. “I’m Wynne.” They remembered themself. “Please.”

Buzzy’s sour expression had a hint of confusion to it as he took stock of the stranger in the room, looking up at Langley for an explanation. “The fuck.” It was half-question, half-statement. A finger pointed at Cortez without addressing him. “And I reckon he’s in need of one too? Don’t have a falsified document growing tree in my backyard.” Heaven knew it wouldn’t grow in Worm Row, anyway.

—

Kaden raised a brow and looked at Emilio. How the fuck had he screwed this up before he walked in the goddamn door? He waited for some kind of explanation from the slayer, but none came. Putain de merde.

“Cut the crap,” Kaden said to the guy. “I know you can get a passport or two in your sleep. It’s not like I’m asking for a social security number or five.” As much as he hated leveraging his last name in this town, there were some times that it came in handy. It was risky running around in hunter circles, considering half the people he cared about weren’t exactly human, but sometimes the risk was worth taking.

“Oh, do you?” Buzzy said, shaking his head. “You know how this works, Langley, but let me explain to yous two.” The man leaned back in his seat as he addressed Emilio and Wynne in turn. “Money is great. Love it. Big fan. But if you ask me for special favors, I ask special prices, got it?” Kaden was hoping he wasn’t going to say that but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected it. “Frankly, Cortez, I don’t think you can afford my prices. Not after the mess you and your little detective agency got me into. I have to applaud your audacity, though, I’l give you that. Try and shut me down for identity theft then waltz on in here for forged papers.” He burst out a laugh to punctuate his point. “So for now, let’s talk about the kid. You need a passport? And you need it quick, ey?” Kaden shifted nervously. He didn’t know if his “good” name was going to be enough to swing this deal, but it was worth a shot.

“Now, pardon my French.” There was a moment’s hesitation as his eyes darted to Kaden. “No offense, Langley, but what are you, then? If you’re not a hunter, I’m assuming there’s some other kind of reason you’re coming to me and not the good ol’ US government. So what is it? You some kind of supernatural? That it? Or some kinda criminal?” Buzzy held up his hands in a mock surrender. “No judgment here, kid, none at all. Just need to know the truth of things so I can get the fakes right.” He laughed at his own joke. “You know I’m a little less inclined to help on account of you being with him,” he said pointing to Emilio, “but a gig’s a gig. And I have a few favors I could use taken care of so depending on the complexity, I’ll entertain it.”

—

He was practically biting his tongue at this point, just trying to keep the smart remarks from slipping out. Axis’s policy tended to be more or less the same as the one Buzzy boasted here — a job was a job, and money was money. There’d been nothing personal about the job Emilio had done that had landed Buzzy in hot water but, roles reversed, Emilio doubted he’d have been bending over backwards to help Buzzy, either. And it wasn’t like he could afford a lot here; Buzzy was right about that. When it came to cash, Emilio was always scrambling. And with Teddy out of town and Nora having made off with their credit card to Ireland… Emilio was cut off from his usual cash flow.

It had been a long shot, anyway. There’d been a moment of hope when Kaden said he might have a way to get Emilio and Wynne to Ireland, but hope wasn’t the kind of thing Emilio banked on. He’d been prepared already for it to be just Wynne and Regan’s friend, even if he hated the idea now just as much as he had when it had been introduced. It was far better than Wynne making the journey alone… even if the loss of control over the situation had Emilio’s skin crawling.

“Fine,” he ground out, exhaling shakily. “Just them, then. If we do the favors, will you get them what they need to fly somewhere?” He resisted the urge to add that he was more than happy to beat the necessary documents out of Buzzy’s vault; something told him that wasn’t the most effective strategy here.

—

Some of the talk went over their head and Wynne wasn’t sure what to say, so they kept quiet when it came to transactions and special favors. They didn’t have a lot of favors they could offer besides making meals and maybe fixing a leaky faucet, but they doubted the other wanted that kind of favor, or the one people at gas stations had asked for when on the road. They tried not to shiver at the thought.

They nodded. “Yes, I need it quick,” they said. “I’m – human. And not a criminal.” Not convicted, anyway. They had condemned a man to death, which was probably not great. “But I …” Wynne swallowed. Maybe they should use the word they hated. “I escaped my commune that’s like a cult, so I don’t have much paperwork. And it will take a long time to do it officially, probably longer considering …” Well, the aforementioned not-a-cult. “Because of the nature of the place I left. They’ll want … answers and questions and everything, right? It will be a whole thing that’s best avoided.” They weren’t sure if that was true, but it seemed about right. “And I just —” They grit their teeth. “Don’t have the time.” Or the energy. Maybe the government would want to see their parents for this. Maybe it would lead to more and more things spiraling out of control now that the demon was no longer capable of protecting the Protherians. They needed to go get Nora, not bring bureaucracy to their former community. “I have a birth certificate, if that helps.”

They were looking at Emilio, wondering what the favors could be, but tried to focus on Buzzy. The idea that Emilio might not get a passport was concerning, but it was better to get one than none. It was also not their place to argue right now. “We will do it.”

—

Kaden was practically screaming his mind for Emilio to not fuck this up and to just keep his fucking mouth shut. Not that he had any delusions otherwise, but it was clear that neither of them were telepathic since the slayer just had to fucking chime in. Kaden gave his leg a small kick, hoping it wasn’t the one with the busted knee, to tell him to cut it out since the telepathy clearly wasn’t coming anytime soon.

“A cult, you say?” Buzzy asked, raising a brow. “I feel like I should be asking yous which one so I don’t accidentally ruin a business opportunity or two.” He waved his hand like he was swatting the notion away. “Actually don’t tell me, then I’m not lying when I say I don’t know shit. But sure, if you do the favors and if you don’t interfere with my business again, I get them a passport in a few days. Kapeesh?” Buzzy looked directly at Emilio as he answered the question. “Anyway, birth certificate helps plenty. Makes my job easier, one less thing to forge and a few more things to use for inspiration. Now, I’ll let yous g—

Kaden held up his hands to cut the guy off. “Before we agree, what kind of prices are we paying, Buzzy?” He was more than willing to pay them but he wanted to know what kind of shit he was getting into before they jumped off that particular cliff.

“Langley,” Buzzy replied, putting a hand to his heart as if it were wounded, “do you really not trust me after all this?” The look Kaden shot him seemed to be enough of an answer for him. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you. See I know you’re a ranger and I’ve got a siren that could use a shake down. Figured like something that would be up your alley. Hell, I bet that’s your typical Tuesday night, am I right?” Kaden’s face remained hardened, not as amused by the joke as Buzzy. “You hunters, are you all this sullen all the time? Geeze. I’d hate to go to one of your parties.” He said, shaking his head. “Anyway, got a few odd jobs like that for the two of yous. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kaden nodded, it was about what he expected. He didn’t love it but it would be worth it. At least, it better be. Buzzy shoved a contract to them to sign and the ranger had no intention of reading it all line by line but he skimmed it. Looked pretty similar to the one he signed last time for his own papers so he went ahead and signed, handing the pen to Wynne and Emilio in turn.

“Perfect,” Buzzy said with a grin. “There’s one more thing, though.” With that, he reached down to pull out another piece of paper. This one was also full of legalese that Kaden couldn’t and wouldn’t parse through.

“The hell is that?” Kaden asked, brows furrowed. “If this is some kind of—”

This time it was Buzzy who held up his hands to silence Kaden. “Not a trick but you want a rush job, I need a little extra.” His eyes fell back to Emilio. “I’ve got a feeling Cortez in particular could be useful. What with that little detective business you got there. I’ve got some people I could use off my back.” He shoved the paper and pen towards the slayer. “What do you say?”

—

Kaden kicked his leg (the good one, thankfully), and Emilio shot him a glare that was far more half-hearted than what he might usually deliver. He’d been on edge since the moment Nora made her big announcement that she’d snuck along to Ireland to hang out with a community of banshees, and the fact that Wynne would soon be joining her, that Emilio would be an ocean away with no control over the situation… It only made things worse. Already, he could feel the shadows swirling in his mind, shrouding him in a darkness he didn’t quite know how to get out of. He kept going back to Mexico, to all the things that could happen when you were only a street away. How much worse could it be with an ocean blocking your path?

Buzzy was speaking again, and it wasn’t politeness or self preservation or Kaden’s hard glare that kept Emilio from interrupting. He could barely hear the guy at all, could barely make out the sound of his voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. By the time he unpacked and translated Buzzy’s words, it was too late to make any dry comments, anyway. Any other day, he would have hopped in to help Wynne, or made a remark about how hunters didn’t really have parties, or told some bad joke at Kaden’s expense that no one but him would find funny. But not today. Today, Emilio was more of a shell than usual. And wasn’t that saying something?

A paper was put in front of him, and he signed it. There was no time to read it — it would have taken ages, anyway. Then, there was another paper, and Buzzy was looking at him. Emilio forced himself up to the surface enough to look back, to actually listen. This is important. His mother’s voice was a harsh echo in his mind. How can I expect you to learn when you don’t listen? When you can’t sit still, when you won’t pay attention? I expect better from you. He swallowed, setting his jaw in a hard line. Buzzy didn’t know him well enough to notice anything off about the expression. He wasn’t even sure if Wynne or Kaden did. Maybe there was no one left alive who knew Emilio with any kind of clarity.

The request was vague and fuzzy and not something Emilio would have said yes to in any other situation. He didn’t get into things with people like Buzzy without knowing exactly what he was signing up for. Any other day, he’d have told Buzzy to give him more information or fuck all the way off. But this was for Nora. This was to get Nora home safe. There was nothing Emilio wouldn’t do to achieve that goal. If it cost him his soul, that was fine. It wasn’t like he got much use out of it. “Fine,” he agreed, holding out a hand for the paper. “Whatever.”

—

They winced as Buzzy called their former commune a cult, even if they’d described it as one. “It’s just kind of like one. And it’s not close. It’s far from here.” Wynne said the lie with relative ease, as it felt like Moosehead was lightyears away, even if sometimes it felt like it was in their backyard. They felt around in their bag, took out a slip of printer paper. “Here is the copy of my birth certificate.”

It was dizzying, what was transpiring before them. The man named Buzzy spoke to Kaden and Emilio about prizes, hardly paying them any mind. Wynne would prefer to also pay, but they also figured they weren’t very good at what it was Buzzy was asking for — shaking down a siren sounded like something they’d not be able to do convincingly. Or at all. They glanced nervously between the two hunters and the strange man and hoped they wouldn’t hold it against them.

Emilio and Kaden both signed the contract without much thought and so they did too, following them and their expertise blindly. Wynne hadn’t signed many contracts before and so far most of them had done well for them, as they’d been for jobs and their former apartment. They didn’t fully understand their concept, though. As if signing your name was going to make you properly indebted to someone. For that you should ask demons for help, they figured. Not just a pen.

There was another one, signed by just Emilio. Their stomach felt tight. At least Emilio was part of this more than Kaden was, even if it seemed like he wasn’t going to get a passport. They swallowed and remembered what the slayer had told them. Their eyes were big and their voice a little meek. It didn’t require a whole lot of acting. “Are you sure you can’t get one for him too? He’s …” They glanced at Emilio, whose face was set. “Sorry.” He did not look sorry.

—

Kaden glanced over, watching Emilio as Buzzy pulled out the second contract. He couldn’t tell if the distant look he had was to keep himself from punching the guy sitting at the desk or if he was actually failing to pay attention. When Cortez realized it was his turn to sign his own paper, the ranger tensed, worried that the man was going to grab the thing and rip it in two. Not that he would blame him — Buzzy was a pain in the ass.

A cackling pain in the ass, too. He threw his head back and chortled at Wynne’s remark. “Is that so, kid?” He had to contain more laughter. “That bastard ain’t sorry about nothing. Are ya?” he goaded. Kaden was ready to step in between the two men, worried that someone (Emilio) was about to lunge across the desk and strangle their forgery guy before he could get the passport needed.

“Come on, Buzzy,” Kaden said, rolling his eyes. “You survived and you have him on the hook. At least consider it.”

The man sighed as he sorted his stack of newly signed contracts. “I’ll consider it.” There was a spark of hope that lit in Kaden’s chest, stupid as that was. “But it’ll take me a while to consider. And I’ll need that favor first. Then I start considering if I’ve changed my mind.” Right, should have remembered it was foolish to hope around these sorts of folks.

“It’s fine. We just need the one for the kid right away. Right?” Kaden looked over to the other hunter, hoping he wouldn’t fucking argue. For once.

“And you’ve got it,” Buzzy said with a smug smile. “Come back in a day or two and I’ll have something for the kid and marching orders for yous twos.” Kaden knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever those fucking marching orders were but at least he didn’t have to do this shit alone this time. “See, was that so hard?”

—

Wynne was trying, that much was clear. And if Emilio were smarter or better, he’d try, too. He’d pretend to be something he wasn’t, he’d put on an apologetic mask. But there was no real point to it, was there? Buzzy made up his mind the moment they walked through the door. They were lucky he was helping Wynne — there was no way in hell he’d help Emilio. This would end the same way everything always did, and Emilio knew it. He wondered if explaining the situation more would help matters, if admitting that him not getting a passport could mean the difference between life and death for Wynne and Nora and Elias and maybe Regan, too, would change Buzzy’s mind. But, deep down, Emilio knew the answer. He always had.

“I’m not sorry for doing my fucking job,” he ground out, doing his best not to take a swing at the guy standing in front of him now. “I’m sorry you don’t want to do yours.” It wasn’t the right thing to say, but was that a surprise? Emilio never said the right thing, never made the moves that needed making. He was a goddamn mess on his best days, and today was one of his worst. There was never any chance of him swallowing his anger well enough to grovel. Everyone in this room knew it.

Maybe Buzzy would get him the passport someday, after he’d held it over Emilio’s head long enough to satisfy. But it would be too late then, and everyone in the room knew it. What was the point in getting a passport when he no longer needed one? Who did it serve? It wasn’t as if Emilio was the sort to take a vacation.

His jaw was tight as Kaden turned to look at him, blood rushing in his ears as the anger warmed his chest. Kaden needed him to agree, but he didn’t trust his voice. He nodded his head instead, curt and tense.

It took everything he had not to take a swing at Buzzy. If they hadn’t been doing this for Nora, to help Nora, he probably would have. Even now, knowing the stakes, he felt like he was physically holding himself back to the point of aching muscles. The moment Buzzy agreed, Emilio turned on his heel, shoving by Kaden and moving a little more gently past Wynne towards the door.

—

Emilio didn’t look sorry, and even worse, he confirmed that he was not sorry. Wynne felt a rush of frustration that made them feel ashamed of even feeling it. They worked their jaw, averting their gaze from the three men in the room. They were afraid they’d cry if one of them looked at them wrong. Emilio not getting a passport was bad news, after all.

They remained quiet as the conversation fizzled out, save for their, “Appreciate it,” to Buzzy. It was accompanied with a respectful nod, even if they thought him a very bothersome man. Sometimes you had to deal with bothersome people to get what you wanted, that was something they knew by now. It was a frustrating and hard lesson to learn, but it was one that stuck.

And so they all went out, Kaden at the front and Wynne at the rear. They closed the door behind them with a softness that the others would probably not have afforded Buzzy. Their eyes moved between Kaden and Emilio now, big and still teetering on the edge of crying. “You could have —,” they began at Emilio, but they shook their head and left their sentence unfinished. Then, at Kaden: “Thank you. And … if I can ever do something for you to make it up to you …” They didn’t have a lot of skills. Maybe they’d just bake him some bread, they could do that. Kaden was good at cooking himself, they recalled, so maybe he’d appreciate that.

The trio moved down the street, back to where they’d met before the fiasco of a meeting. A strange feeling took hold of Wynne as they considered the strangeness of life and these two hunters, willing to do an ugly job on their behalf. Despite the strangeness, they decided they didn’t mind the feeling.

#threads.#emilio.#kaden.#no funny buzzness.#just wynne and their two tall hunters

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sorryimananti-romantic · 19 days

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Oml i havent been here in a MINUTE, but i just finish reading Cyberpunk and i definitely have to come and say i LOVED it (as i always do lmfao)

But the fact is almost cried, all the elements of it made it feel like a movie.

I don’t know much of the game (droid??) but where did you get the inspo to make such and amazing fic😞 i really liked how the thing keeping droids from being completely robots was the subconscious, which could be tied in with emotions but that wasn’t the main point.

Also, THE MORSE CODE, loved it oml- but about it, jongho learned morse code because he was a droid, but once he became human he still had that in him, like the memory of how to do morse code. + did the mc install some morse code into the droids before hand?

And to add one last thing, the part of the memory block was a shocker, for a split sec i felt like in inception and you were going to pull a “it was all a dream” which im glad you didnt but the detailsss, like how jongho is just still a cutie and easily gets flustered ugh i could keep on going but, to conclude, you never fail to make amazing fics and i shall continue to read them all

YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS BUT I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOU LAST NIGHT HELLO???

glad to know you liked cyberpunk i will never stop complaining about how much i struggled writing it lmao but the fact that it felt like a movie and almost made you cry means i did a good job hehe

bruh i have literally zero droid knowledge all i know is that well they're machines that work like humans and i literally had zero inspo just the title 'cyberpunk' and i knew cyberpunk had to be a droid/futuristic fic. and bc i have zero knowledge and this is fiction, i just made my own rules (like i always do ahaha)

oh the morse code. i don't remember if i mentioned it in the fic but jongho and reader used to communicate by tapping morse code on the skin before he got turned into a droid (if i didn't mention it, oops). with the droids, tho, they would be able to speak multiple languages/code since well, they're machines. it's installed in their hardware in the chip.

the idea that i had was when the reader was acting cautious around droid jongho but tapping the morse code onto his skin, keeping the msg short and simple like 'no' or 'don't', the droid wouldn't be able to figure out what she meant and why she was doing it. but since jongho the human would remember how this was their little secret communication way and would understand the depth of reader's msg, he would know what to do and act accordingly (reader took a risk here). that's bc jongho has his subconscious, if that makes sense.

AHAHAHA i was this 🤏close to turning cyberpunk into a tragedy or even a sadistic tragedy but ig this worked out better. i do believe subconscious is so imp and that no matter how much humans try to make machines that work and act like humans, they can never replicate the subconscious. and they really shouldn't try 💀

thank you so much for the lovely feedback and the questions, and i missed you! hope you're doing well <3 also now you know that if i ever write a fic titled 'inception', it's very obviously going to be the 'it was all a dream' concept. but with a twist, ofc hehe

#i've been wanting to write sth inception for so long #i'll have to think of a really big twist for that one #and a member who would suit the concept hehe #anyways thank you for reading cryberpunk (that's what i call it it made me cry sm)#mab <3 #fic: cyberpunk #yumi.asks

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kitkatyes · 9 months

Text

Oh god, the voices

Agent Phoenix headcanons because the illness won. There's gonna be spoilers for all the games so be warned! Buckle in, It's gonna be a long one

During the events of ieytd 1, Phoenix would always write in cursive cause they liked it. Their handler always had trouble reading it cause half the time it looked like indecipherable squiggles. But after the events of Operation: Death Engine, Phoenix injured their hand- some very nicely broken fingers- and despite their best efforts (agency-mandated physical therapy sessions), they could never get their handwriting the same. Phoenix decides to take up journalling as a hobby in attempt to remedy this.

They've been told they look like an art kid but if prompted, they would only be able to draw a stick figure or one of those triangle-body people you'd draw when you were four.

Phoenix absolutely loves cats and, if they weren't a secret agent constantly moving around, they'd have at least five. It always did seem like their office was surrounded by stray cats and their van in the second game was no exception.

They actually loved camping out in that cramped van. They binged Van Life videos on YouTube when they were assigned to the mission and learned to adore the cramped space. This is a secret they'll take to their grave. They were very annoyed when they saw that Juniper stole their rug during Operation: Safe and Sound and immediately stole it back after they signalled their handler via the glowing water tower stunt.

They're mute and are fluent in most sign Languages. Phoenix will often communicate using Morse code by tapping their earpiece when they're on comms with their Handler. Their Handler still doesn't know Morse Code fluently, so he always has the alphabet on his desk. Sometimes, if they're really stressed or pissed off, they may actually speak- as a treat.

Phoenix is non-binary and makes it everyone's problem. Sometimes, they get really sombre and proclaim that they lost their tits in the war (Operation: Death Engine). When asked about their gender, they always give a cryptid shrug.

On the topic of cryptids, they absolutely adore them. Oftentimes, Phoenix will claim to have seen Mothman and given him a high-five. With the knowledge that aliens do, in fact, exist, no one really questions it. They've binged BuzzFeed's unsolved and will randomly quote it at times.

Phoenix 100% has Autism- I mean, have you seen their souvenir collection? No neurotypical person would decide to keep the sponge they used to clean a skyscraper.

They are the definition of lazy. They often abuse their TK implant, using it for the most mundane things. Do you need a snack? No need to get up, they'll magic it over for you. Also, they have 100% bent a spoon with their mind as some stupid party trick.

Y'know, like this:

Phoenix is obsessed with fieldwork. Often their Handler will find them passed out from sleep exhaustion because they don't know the definition of a break. (They never learn from their mistakes.)

After Operation: Rising Phoenix, they are forced to take a very long break from fieldwork after losing a leg. ("Agent, you can't even walk!) They are very impatient but thankfully, are able to annoy their Handler as they're staying in his apartment.

Dr. Prisim actually designed their leg before defecting. The leg itself isn't hellishly futuristic, it was her first time designing a prosthetic, so she decided to base her design on most modern-day prosthetics. Sure, it's got a few more features (in-built shock absorption to allow for exercise without switching to a running blade and is kinesium-powered) but it's largely the same.

Phoenix also has a few different covers for their prosthetic. They mainly stick to an orange cover with flames on it but they have a black and a tan one in case they need to go undercover.

Phoenix is absolutely ALLERGIC to using mobility aids. Their Handler will often have to force them into a wheelchair or push their crutches into their hands in order for them to use it. Their Handler may even resort to stealing their leg if they're pushing themself too much. Trust me, they'd sleep in their prosthetic if they could.

Escaping from Zor's Project KBOOM messed with both their TK implant and their leg. So, much to their chagrin, they allow their Handler to drive them back to the Agency for a check-up.

Phoenix has always had a penchant for escaping death, even before they joined the agency. Some of their escapades include: falling off their school's roof, getting hit by a truck and even an attempted murder. Not even they knew how they managed to piss that guy off.

#ieytd #i expect you to die #agent phoenix #unfiltered rambling #I've been seeing everyone making headcanons and I had to join in #ieytd3 spoilers #ieytd 2

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amandayetagain · 1 year

Text

It's You | Fedex Secret Santa 2022

a red string soulmate au where Fitz can’t see his string, and Dex can see all of them. Dex’s parents weren’t soulmates- but they were in love, and shamed for it. So of course Dex doesn’t want to turn his back on his family by finding his soulmate. Only, he does- and has kept it a secret for five years. Things get complicated when his soulmate, Fitz Vacker, asks for his help to find the person on the other end of his string. Oops?

Finding the person on the other end of his red string had never been high on Dex’s list of priorities. Especially since he was one of the gifted few who saw all of the strings. Which obviously made it significantly more difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy a challenge- just that he didn’t care.

His parents weren’t soulmates. But they were so in love, it was sickening to watch. Since they decided to essentially flip off society by getting married anyway, by daring to have children- they were ostracized. If his parents could be that happy together, the red strings didn’t really matter anymore, did they?

Yet Dex still found himself wondering. Who was tied to him? Did his soulmate want to find him? Had his soulmate tried to find him? Would something happen to his soulmate if they didn’t find him? Would they be shunned, like his own family? Did that mean he had a responsibility to at least try to find his soulmate?

It was a lot.

Emphasis on the past tense.

Five years ago, he had found his soulmate.

“You’re lucky,” Biana complained, directing her grievance at Sophie and Keefe. “You two found each other the first week you were both at Foxfire. I learned Morse Code for my soulmate, and they won’t even tap back.”

“Have you considered that your soulmate doesn’t know Morse Code?” Fitz inquired. His little sister scoffed.

“Of course not. If my soulmate is anything like me, they would be trying their absolute hardest to communicate.”

“It could be an opposites-attract kind of situation,” Sophie suggested.

“What a slacker.”

“At least you can see your string,” Fitz teased.

He looked down at his pinky finger, tracing the invisible tie to his soulmate. He plucked at it as if it were from a guitar. Shit. Dex jolted upward as a twang vibrated through his body. A pang of guilt struck him, and he desperately grasped at a chance to change the subject.

“It isn’t a competition to see who’s got it the worst, okay? This is, frankly, depressing.”

“He’s right,” Linh piped. “The Neverseen are finally out of the picture, and you all have just found something else to latch onto. It’s not healthy! The elite levels are meant for figuring out what to do for eternity, not moping around over soulmates that you have forever to find.”

“With that logic, we also have forever to figure out our careers,” Tam pointed out, not looking up from his book.

Linh huffed, crossing her arms.

“Not the backup I was looking for, Tam.”

“I’ve managed perfectly well without a soulmate to help me. I've never needed one before, and I’m not about to start now.”

Despite agreeing with Tam, his words didn’t sit right with Dex.

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

The day had been going fine before Fitz showed up, if you could believe it. Dex’s mom had taken the triplets to Havenfield with Aunt Eda and Uncle Grady. Kesler was in the shop, so nobody was home to interrupt. Dex could just . . . be. Also, being home alone meant full access to the kitchen. No greedy siblings (or dad) to steal whatever he was cooking.

He didn’t even get to raid the pantry before the doorbell rang.

Making his way towards the door, Dex took a moment to mourn his free time.

“Oh . . . hi, Fitz. Not to be rude, but . . . why are you here?”

His cheeks pink, and he grins, looking down at his feet. He tilted his head up slightly, aiming his abashed smile directly at Dex.

“I need to talk to you about something. It’s pretty important- to me, at least.”

Dex stepped aside, allowing space for Fitz to come in.

“What is it?”

Fitz straightened, taking a deep breath to seemingly summon courage. Dex had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what happened next.

His instincts didn’t fail him.

“I need you to help me find my soulmate.”

Dex stumbled backwards, eyes widening. He could feel his heartbeat accelerate, breaths coming short and fast. How did Fitz even know he could help with that? That he could see the strings?

“Sophie didn’t mean to tell me- it just came up in cognate training. And since I can’t see my string . . . I figured you could help me.”

If you’d bother to try, you’d know I’m right here, he wanted to scream. Did you really just give up because you can’t see your string?

“Why should I help you,” he dared, crossing his arms.

Fitz’s expression morphed to one of confusion, pained. As if he’d just been slapped by someone he cared for.

“Because . . . we’re, or at least I thought we were . . . friends.”

“Friends.”

“Yeah! After the prison break on Exile, I thought we were good.” His eyes dropped to a ring he wore on his right ring finger. “You even gave me a panic ring.”

“I gave everyone a panic ring,” Dex said, softening.

“You still didn’t have to give me one. I can go- I guess I just, um,” he struggled to find the right words. “I guess I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’ll-I’m just going to,” he stumbled backwards, laughing it off. “Go. I’ll go. Um, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Don’t. I’ll help you. Come in.”

He turned, walking briskly back to the kitchen. Fitz rushed behind him, closing the door.

“Really? You will?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I’ve thought about it a ton,” Fitz said, getting down to business. “And it might be harder, but I think it's best to look for them at an event where most of the population will be. The Celestial Festival is perfect, we can just levitate above, and the string will be easy to see. I can make it up to you however you want.”

“You’re making this sound like a transaction.”

And if Dex was being smart about this, he would treat it like one. When Fitz was around, things got complicated.

“Well- I thought-”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Such a dangerous thing to be.

Dex could practically feel the warmth of Fitz’s blush from the other side of the cabinet door.

“Right.”

He probably shouldn’t take so much joy in being the cause of Fitz’s blush- or his entire dilemma, but he finally got why Keefe liked to play the “Make Foster Blush Game” so much. It was kind of intoxicating.

“Ripplenuts? They’re roasted.”

“Uh, sure.”

“So, what now?”

Fitz raked a hand through his hair, looking sheepish.

“I didn’t think that far, to be honest. Would you be against . . . hanging out? The Celestial Festival is this weekend, and I have to bring a date, and since you’re going to be there with me anyway, we could, you know, go together?”

“Are you sure your family would be okay with that?”

He shrugged.

“They’re the ones making me bring someone, so they don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“That’s kind of surprising,” Dex commented, sitting down. “That your family is making you bring a date- I thought they were kind of strict when it comes to soulmate stuff.”

“They are. Dating anyone before your soulmate is viewed as a practice relationship. It supposedly helps you better commit to a real relationship with your soulmate. It’s kind of manipulative, but as long as both parties know what they signed up for, it’s fine. It’s pretty common, actually.”

Dex . . . didn’t know how to feel.

Did his parents think they could shelter this from him? Was he a practice date? A fake practice date? Did he want to be Fitz’s date?

That would certainly simplify things.

He shouldn’t be, though. Distance was key to indifference. And as long as Dex could at least act like he didn’t care, hopefully it would be on its way to becoming reality.

“It’ll be nice to go without having to worry if Sophie will create a big enough spectacle to impress the Council, or if the Neverseen will attack,” Fitz reasoned, blushing softly. “The former was still rather enjoyable though.”

The former.

That was what- four? Four-ish years ago?

After Sophie had gotten her abilities reset, she was under enormous pressure to dazzle the entire elvin world with Silveny as the finale to Orem’s performance. What made it even more stressful was that Silveny had recently broken her wing. It also didn’t help that taking the alicorn to go get her abilities reset was an act of treason (according to Bronte). And since Grady had let her go, the Council had to decide on a punishment.

It was a hectic time.

But while he was there, he realized that Fitz, Keefe, and Biana weren’t just Sophie’s friends- they were his too.

“What do you mean you’ve never been to a Celestial Festival,” Fitz had gasped, mouth agape. Everyone goes!”

“Clearly not everyone.”

“Why?”

“We usually watch a movie instead. My parents said it wouldn’t be the same without Uncle Grady and Aunt Eda, and they haven’t been up for it since before I was born.”

Right. Jolie’s death.

“At least they’re doing better now,” he offered.

“Yeah. I feel like I barely know them- they’re so much happier now. Where’s your family?”

He shrugged, gesturing towards a cacophony of Vackers.

“Somewhere in there. Keefe and Biana got a little trapped.”

“Aren’t you going to save them?”

“Nah.”

Fitz turned back to face Dex, resting on his side. Even under at least three layers of tailored clothes, he was shivering, breath puffing out into the air. A fluff-lined hood framed his face, snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.

“Didn’t your parents teach you temperature regulation?” Dex asked, reaching out to feel how cold Fitz’s pink cheeks were with the back of his hand. “You come here every year, don’t you?”

He blushed at the touch, eyes widening the tiniest bit.

“I’m pretty sure your parents are the only ones unique enough to do that.”

“You mean weird.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed. “But weird isn’t a bad thing.”

A gentle smile played across Dex’s face.

Fitz shifted closer, imitating what Dex had done-was still doing- to estimate his temperature.

“You know your lips are going to get chapped, right?”

“I came prepared,” Fitz exclaimed, sitting up abruptly to dig through his pockets. He pulled out a tube of chapstick triumphantly, eyes sparkling. He grinned, carefully covering his lips in deep concentration.

And for some indecipherable reason, Dex couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Sure. For convenience.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

He had the nerve to be disappointed when this was all to find his soulmate? This was his plan, not Dex’s. It also didn’t really sit right, being a ‘practice date.’ Even if he was Fitz’s soulmate. A lot of things hadn’t been sitting right, recently.

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

The night of the Celestial Festival came far too quickly.

“Nobody wants to miss the finale,” Fitz informs Dex. “It’ll have the most highly concentrated number of elves.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

Dex tries and fails to keep a smile from cracking his solemn facade. His soulmate was just so serious. It was a sharp contrast from what he had grown up with, messing with nobles in Slurp and Burps, having snowball fights in the yard.

“We’ve gone over it a million times,” Dex continues. “It’s going to be fine. You can relax. The Celestial Festival is supposed to be fun, right?”

“Right.”

He exhales, tension leaving his body.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Fitz flashed Dex a smile, and fuck, Dex was screwed. What was he even doing? All it took was a soft smile and warm, trusting eyes, and his heart practically stopped. Where were his defenses when he needed them? When had he dropped his guard?

“Are you alright,” he asked, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Dex?”

“Y-yeah,” Dex stammered. He had simply lost his control over his respiratory system. No big deal.

“Are you sure?”

A chorus of screams raced through Dex’s mind. No! He was not alright! He was being too sweet with his double-checking, and worried forehead crease, and hands reaching out to hold Dex’s, and oh stars, Fitz’s eyes hadn’t once left Dex’s.

He broke their gaze, looking down at their fingers twined together.

“You don’t have to do this,” Fitz added. His breath was warm against Dex’s forehead, and Dex cursed his growth spurt for stopping before he could at least match Fitz’s height. “We can stay down here, and watch the show.”

His eyes flicked back up to Fitz’s, vulnerable as hell.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fitz was trying so goddamn hard. He was being so fucking considerate, and if he didn’t know him so well, Dex might have believed he was fine.

“Screw you, Fitz Vacker,” Dex cursed, resting his forehead on Fitz's chest.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Dex let go of Fitz’s hands, fisting his own in the thick fabric at Fitz’s hips. And that boy, that sweet, sweet boy, hugged him.

“Give me your hand,” Dex managed, voice muffled.

It took a beat for Fitz to respond.

“Uh, no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s about your string.”

“I got that,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t care.”

Dex drew back, searching Fitz’s face for some sign of a lie, a clue of some sort to help him comprehend the statement. But he came up empty.

“Dex.”

“Give me a minute,” Dex said, shaking his head. “Give me a minute.”

“Dex . . . I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to find my soulmate. Look at your parents! That could be us!”

“I never really aspired to become my parents,” Dex stammered.

“Look, I’ve got my own issues to work through, with whatever the hell the Vacker Legacy is- or was, and expectations, and if I’m being totally honest here, I didn’t ask you to help me find my soulmate so you could actually find my soulmate. I just wanted an excuse,” he confessed, shoulders sagging. “To be with you.”

“You know you don’t actually need an excuse to spend time with me? And if I’m being totally honest, this is kind of out of the blue for me?”

“I’m sorry about that- this hasn’t been going at all the way I wanted it to- let me start over.”

Dex nodded, squeezing Fitz’s hand.

“Would you, Dex Dizznee, want to go out with me, Fitz Vacker, on a real date? None of the not-soulmates business messing it up?”

“About that,” Dex started. “Not to undermine your dramatic confession and rejection of prevalent societal norms, but . . .”

He took Fitz’s other hand, placing it on top of their string.

They met eyes, Fitz at a loss.

“Go on.”

He ran his fingertips across the string, slowly stopping as he came to the other end.

“It’s not going through you.”

“It’s not going through me.”

“It’s tied to you.”

“Yup,” Dex agreed, trying desperately to keep his cool.

Fitz sat down, drawing his knees to his chest. His eyes were wide, errantly blinking.

Dex sat down next to him, making sure to give his soulmate some breathing room. He looked like his brain was going hundreds of miles an hour. It was . . . kind of cute, situation aside.

“How . . . how long have you known?”

“Well, I was pretty sure it was you the day you called me Deck-” Fitz’s cheeks heated “-but I was absolutely certain after the break on Exile,” he admitted. “I didn’t really know how to feel about it. I knew how I was supposed to feel about it, if I was a normal kid, born into a normal family, but I’m not. My parents told me they’d be happy no matter what choice I made. It’s probably true- but it’s still a loaded decision.”

“Then how am I supposed to tell you,” Fitz managed, voice breaking. “I’m so glad it’s you?”

“You just did.”

Fitz buried his face in his hands, ineffectively raking a mittened hand through his hair as he looked back at his soulmate. Wow, his soulmate. They were soulmates.

“Stars, Dex- I’m so glad it’s you.”

Dex tackled Fitz in a hug, laughing.

“And I thought I was a dork.”

“I’m not entirely sure what that word means, but it sounds like an insult.”

“I can’t believe you know.”

“That you’re my soulmate, or that I’m your soulmate?”

“At risk of sounding self-obsessed, the latter,” Dex clarified, chest light. Sharing a secret had never felt so good. It was freeing, almost.

“It’s you,” Fitz whispered, head nestled against Dex’s neck.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

@booksscienceandmath @squishmallow36

#fedex #red string au #soulmate au #amanda writes yet again #secret santa was a little late huh #the flashback is in italics and was my favorite part to write

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casitafallz-a · 2 years

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Decay AU | Lost somewhere called Home P4

Dante waited happily as he coloured in the pictures Tia Mirabel had set out for him, though he happily grabbed the lines of the jaguar and set to colour them in with crayons but they weren’t his favourite, he liked paint. Mami wasn’t as fond but he liked making her pretty pictures. It made her so happy.

Why not here? And he was sure Abuela might be able to sneak him an Arepa or two like Distort or Abuela Pariah did…

Dahlya and Bisabuelo were around while he waited, Dahlya herself has taken to following his Tia Luisa around in amazement about her muscles, not that Tia Luisa knew given he was keeping his ghosts quiet. Just because he could glimpse through the veil of death, that didn’t mean the others could. He had a feeling that his family might not like them just yet and Bisabuelo had been against him making him known and it was getting night time and he was tired but… he didn’t want to sleep in the nursery! That was for babies!

But it seemed like Bisabuela was allowing it but he had to wait until they were ready. So he waited.

Bisabuelo happily rolled a few colours his way but wasn’t very talkative but at least he had the company.

“Dante.” His head rose as his Abuelo poked his head in through the nursery door.

“Abuelo!” He smiled, “Is it all ready yet?”

Abuelo Agustín shook his head but came in. “Can I join you?”

Dante nodded, “Just doing some colouring.”

“I see.” Abuelo came in, before taking a seat on the bed, looking down at his colouring. “You’re very good.”

Dante nodded, “At school, it’s expected to be good or better and… and because I’m a special boy, I have my very own teacher!” he found It odd to be in a class room and share one.

“Oh,” Abuelo sounded interested, “Can you read and write?”

Dante nodded, “Si, Well…some numbers a tricky. I’m also being taught other languages other than Spanish… Like sign language, Morse code…. even English which is a really tricky language…. I don’t think English is a real language but Mami says it comes from an island called England…. Or America…” Dante rambled.

Abuelo just smiled, nodding along. “Do you enjoy learning?”

Dante nodded. “I like to help. Mami’s teaching me tricks to help with her arms. The mechanics is very, very hard but super cool! Did you know her arms have a special thing called a Ne…Nervous core? Like… like how humans have a nervous system, but this is made of metal and when it’s plugged into her arms sockets, it makes her metal arms feel things!” his face fell, “if you take them off wrong, it does hurt her and…and I hate not knowing how to do things properly. I need to learn!”

Abuelo’s face remained still as he spoke though he looked a little sad, “well, I’m sure we can get you in school soon enough.”

Dante hummed though soon enough, the door opened and Abuela were peeking in. Dante perked up happily, dropping his crayons and clambered to his feet and immediately ran to his Abuela, reaching for her hand.

“Is it time?” he asked.

Abuela Julieta smiled and nodded. “Si.”

Dante let her lead the way towards his door. The yellow side of his family and the one that was going to marry Dolores—he forgot his name—stood aside by his Tia Luisa’s door and Tia Mirabel and Tia Luisa stood by his Mami’s Dark door. By his door, his potato person was standing there with one of Mami’s.

Bisabuela stood back beside his door as well, holding the candle and though her face was soft, she looked concerned which he didn’t get… this was his door. Not hers. Maybe she wanted Mami here to see?

“Dante, you ready to open your door.”

“Have been since I got here, Bisabuela” Dante answered bluntly. “It is wonderful.”

Camilo sniggered; grunting at the elbow from Felix but Dante just smiled innocently up at her. He shook his head as she lent with the candle towards him.

“Its okay, Bisabuela, I don’t need to touch the candle.” He said, “Look.” He didn’t wait as he let go of Abuela’s hand and grasped the door knob with the D on it and sure enough, he felt the familiar warmth of magic before the familiar image of himself was decorating the front.

It was him, eyes open with a wide smile, his palms face-up with two ghostly shapes; one floating away but one was looking to whisper into his image’s ear. A few shapes hung around the borders, a few skulls and a few crosses that gave him a level of protection from spirits.

He gave a smile up to Abuela and took her hand; eager to show her around first as he opened it up and inside was just as he had left it in the watcher AU: recreated just as perfectly.

Inside was a clean vast space, the first initial space was his bed-space set inside a marble cut room that you’d expect to see in a mausoleum; alcoves of where coffins in an actual mausoleum were alcoves for his belongings and clothes, bookshelves and fixed to his wall or in frames was pictures of his family. There was a doorframe out, with a veil of rosary beads and divert in the crossway that was filled with salt to keep the bad spirits away while he slept.

Through the doorway led out to a neat-cut field where a good few tombstones stood under rest under the fake sky. Of course, most were blank but on where two of his ghosts; Bisabuelao Pedro, Dahly; only his favourite ghosts were honoured to have a place in his room. There was a circular patch of stone with pillows to sit on for when he no doubt tried better with his gift but he wasn’t interested too much on that just yet.

He just tugged Abuela in and the others followed after them.

“This is…disturbing.” Camilo was the first to answer, eyes-wide. “is this…even child-friendly?”

“Mami says so, she checked.” Dante called, his voice echoing against the marble. “Here is my bed and… and my clothes are all in here.” He let go of Abuela’s hand and tugged the light blue wardrobe doors where his other sets of clothes were hung up in sets; Mami’s work in keeping order. Even his spare blue ruana was in there as well but to his surprise, Abuela was looking at a photograph at his bedside.

It was him and Mami.

Mami was sitting cross-legged on a medical bed, new-born him swaddled and pink-faced against her chest, stated under her tank-top which exposed the dual nature of her prostheses and battle scars. Unlike the photographs outside of the watcher world, these photographs moved; capturing the moment. The soft movement of his mother’s breath, his little self’s nose wrinkling or how he wiggled. Her face was angled down though a random shift, her head would turn; she didn’t look up often.

“Isabela…” Abuela breathed, picking it up.

Dante watched her curiously, though let the family explore but Abuelo and his tias hovered more to take a glimpse.

“Aww, this is you?!” Mirabel whispered. “You’re so tiny!”

Dante giggled. “Yeah, it’s me! Abuela Pariah took the photo a few hours after I was born.”

“Her arms…” Abuela swallowed, eyes welling up a little. “they look to heavy…”

“Have you got any more pictures?” Tia Mirabel asked, brightly though there was a wide-eyes look to her face..

“Yeah! Tia Abscond helped Tia Wanderer put this together for Mami’s birthday. She left it in my room when she was telling me stories.” Dante hurried over to his bookshelf and tugged out a large scrap-book and waddled towards them with it.

On the front said; 15 years and counting

Abuela took it though didn’t open it. “Can I take this to my room?”

“If you bring it back tomorrow…I don’t wanna lose it.” Dante was sure Mami would be worried if it would get lose… he didn’t want to get into trouble!

“Come, I show you where my potato people go!” he grabbed both his tia’s hand and tugged them along.

Julieta’s heart thundered in her chest as she held the delicate book of…missed time of her eldest life… unsure if she should open and see or wait until later.

Agustín’s hand came to her side. “you okay, Mi Amor?”

Julieta nodded, her eyes returning back to the picture of Isabela and baby Dante. Clear as day…this child was not adopted; he was truly hers. Where could all that time fit into for him to be five now didn’t make any sense and…she doubted she could make sense of it if she tried right now.

“Mama?” Pepa’s voice called with concern, echoing out through a doorway before Julieta’s concern had her moving where outside, Abuela was kneeling in front of a grave with a wide-eyed gaze.

Pedro Madrigal ‘to love at all is to love entirely’ 1872-1900

On the gave stone above the test there was a resting carved face of him in the stone; eyes closed but a warm expression, a few strands of hair trailing down his forehead.

Julieta’s breath caught; her father.

Beside his stone was another; of a little girl no older than 4 or five but she didn’t read that as her hand came to her mother’s shoulder as she reached forwards, touching over his face of the cold-stone with reverence.

“Mama?” Pepa whispered, her cloud darkening in concern. Bruno also seemed to make an appearance too with just as much wariness at what they were now facing

Abuela swallowed thickly. “What…is his gift?” Her voice was so faint. “What is this?”

Julieta spared a look to her siblings, her arm tightening over her daughter’s book but she had no answer; not really. But looking around; the room style and the...religious symbols and the…graves seemed to point that Dante’s gift was…dark. Not in intent but one that danced into the same realm of Bruno’s gift and clearly, this must have a connection with death.

But how could a child have such a heavy gift? Death wasn’t understood by a child; how could Dante understand what he was dealing with? Did Isabela help shield him from the worst?

“Cool!” Antonio’s voice echoed but it was the shimmering that caught her eye.

Dante’s eyes were lit with blue, a blue shimmering around his hands, reaching outwards to a ghostly form that seemed to materialise through the patches of longer grass where it became….Parce. Julieta recognised the jaguar easily but…it couldn’t be.

Parce had died just over a year ago when out hunting for food; his body lost to predators and Antonio had been devastated when a few of his remains had been found. He had since made a few jaguar friend, Spotty. A cub of Parce’s that was almost fully grown and had gotten very attached to the 8 year old.

Yet, Parce was here, his body a glimmer of light and weightless with how his fur wasn’t as turned down with gravity’s pull but seemed to move in soft motion.

Antonio’s eyes turned wide but he reached forwards, the ghostly jaguar growling but it was clear even now after death, Antonio could understand him before Antonio seemed to be able to touch him before he burst into tears.

“Ghosts.” Julieta breathed out, her eyes turning to the 5-year old. “He can talk to ghosts.”

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collectingsorrows444 · 2 years

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*Dances*

Okay, okay, so let me give you some or just information about my FNAF (Security Breach specifically) OC’s!

~•💫•✨•~

Mx. Star:

Works in the daycare (why-)

She is more inspired by astrology (obviously ig)

Has the zodiac signs on her dress! They glow in the dark with the little stars on it

Their hair is puffy and soft and full of stars (inspired by when a star explodes and reforms, it’s honestly kinda pretty)

She has no mouth but can speak with her hands! (Sign Language) There are various types of sign language but she is very fluent in them

Plus, she kinda has speakers and a voice box

Carries two pockets that are strapped around her waist! One holds tarot cards and the other holds prizes and trinkets!

Did you know, Mx. Star has wings! They are designed to be like eldritch wings :0

Let’s say, she was intended to be more humanoid so more kids could come to the daycare *shrugs*

Side Note: Parental Figure for Solar (the next animatronic)

~•💫•✨•~

Solar:

Basically based off the solar system!

Obviously is in the daycare (omg why again-)

She was originally a boy

Back then, she was intended to be child-like and to get along with the kids. She was paranoid and scared of everyone.

Mx. Star took Solar under their wing (pun intended? Probably)

But for real, Star made sure Solar was comfortable and safe

And then boom! Solar actually got her design changed a little!

Her voice box changed just like requested and so did her outfit :>

Her socks *coughs* has a really really light pastel version of the trans flag! I thought it would be cool to add that in :]

Solar is also security! Security just incase no one else can take care of a bad guy for they can be busy or overwhelmed

~•💫•✨•~

Kitty:

Mmmm, cat animatronic but a security animatronic????

What’s up with me with security shit-

Kitty has an updated design but I didn’t care to actually draw it officially-

She has a little fish plush named Mr. Fish

Mr. Fish was given by a child before they left

So Kitty holds Mr. Fish dearly to her heart (chest? Gears?)

She takes most patrols during the day since her main job is to find missing or lost kids

Kitty also works in the Lost and Found! She helps bring back the lost items as well

She also is programmed to act like a cat sometimes so-

Kitty can have random tic’s or twitches (Tics or Tourette’s) and it doesn’t have to do anything with her code

She has a handler! You’ll learn about the handler later.

~•💫•✨•~

Theo the Mechanic:

You can find this guy on tiktok!

My user is @ghoststarcookie (I think-)

He is the main mechanic, well, used to be

At the time, he was the only one who was in Parts & Services that was active and had different functions that weren’t as advanced as the others

He also has a hard time remembering time and his routine so that’s where is partner comes along!

Vi! Vi is a cat like animatronic just like Kitty but is actually an accurate cat

Vi interacts with Theo telling him to “Come on!” or “We have to go!” by meowing or Morse code

The two are so wholesome :>

Imagine Theo and Vi hanging out and kids surrounding them asking if they can pet Vi; Theo letting them and Vi happily taking in all of the love and affection?

I honestly need to redraw the two-

~•💫•✨•~

The Handler…

Mx. Valdez!:

A human staff!

Woah!

They are a mechanic and they took over Parts & Services, teaching Theo some things since he was just told to do it with no explanation

Mx. Valdez is also Kitty’s Handler

They act as a therapist or a person who can comfort her

Mx. Valdez often checks in with the both of them (Theo and Kitty) since they are their favorite *coughs*

They wear round glasses, a navy blue coat with Kitty sewed onto the pocket as long with star designs on the sleeves and pants

Curly brown hair into bun (half bun? Wait- Hair down but the top is a bun! I am not an expert with names of hairstyles-)

Tanned skin :]

Really really supportive

They can be real funny! (Dark Humor lol)

~•💫•✨•~

That’s it! Have an amazing night, afternoon and day! See you later lovely! - Dawn

#security breach oc #security breach #fnaf security breach #fnaf oc

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oh-phineas · 7 months

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Saturday, November 11 -- Short and Sweet One-Shot: Write ten short-short stories of no more than a paragraph long (can star one or multiple characters.)

Ten Things That Probably Happened to Fred Flynn

Fred drove off into the sunset, and he didn’t look back. He couldn’t look back. He wanted to, but he knew it would hurt too much, and he had an important mission ahead of him. Such was the life of Fred Flynn, also known as Agent 008, also known as southeastern Illinois’ most notorious secret spy, and today he had a real baddie to take down. Would he be back? He hoped so, but these could be dangerous missions…

II.

Fred went as far as Lake Michigan before he ditched his car. He couldn’t take it with him, not once the ship would arrive to pick him up. Once, Fred (Or Freddie the Fearsome, as he was known back then) had sworn he would leave behind his life of piracy on the Great Lakes, but he couldn’t run forever. The crew found him, and now that they needed his help recovering a precious gemstone only he knew the location of, he knew his family would never know peace until he returned to the Great Lakes. And while his heart broke for the family he left behind, he knew his first love would always be the lakes.

III.

Goddamit! Fred was barely on the Interstate on his way to his business trip when he was suddenly abducted by aliens! They saw the bumper sticker on his car that said he was the proud parent of an honor student, and they took that as a sign that he was a very powerful person. With one zap, Fred was aboard a flying saucer and headed to another galaxy. What a bummer!

IV.

Fred hardly made it around the corner before he pulled over, swapped his regular spectacles for a pair of mirrored shades, and pulled on his leather jacket. Naturally, he couldn’t let anybody know about his secret identity as one of the guys under the helmets in Daft Punk, not even his family. But he couldn’t let the people who drove his private jet know that he was just a regular suburban dad, either. Juggling a secret DJ life was hard, but it was worth it to pursue his art, and Fred was sure he’d be back soon. As long as nobody found out his secret…

Fred did miss his family a lot, though, wherever he was. He wanted to reach out to them, but there were just so many forces beyond his control. People monitoring his communications. It wasn’t safe. He was trying to send out Morse code signals, so it was a good thing his son was learning it. SOS was probably the one he would use. That was the most important one to learn. Three short taps, three long taps, three short taps. His son knew to watch for it.

VI.

Fred woke up one morning and he actually wasn’t Fred at all, he was someone totally different! He’d swapped bodies with Vice President Joe Biden, Freaky Friday-style. It was something that happened sometimes! Now Joe needed to get to DC as quickly as possible, find the real Fred Flynn, and get his own body back before a regular civilian was left to run the Senate! Or who knew… maybe a civilian running the Senate was exactly what it needed! (Either way, he really needed to get to DC. Stat. So he jumped in Fred’s car and drove off).

VII.

The thing about Fred was that, when he picked up a project, it consumed him. All his energy. He went into this state of chaos, where the rest of the world was noise as he created his masterpiece. So, one morning, as he was struck with the idea for an amazing work of art that would rival the Mona Lisa, Fred immediately took off for his secret cabin in the woods where he got all of his inspiration. The only catch… that place was definitely haunted…

VIII.

Fred only meant to drive to the grocery store, but something peculiar happened at the corner of Harrison and Gilbert Street. There was a shimmer in the road ahead, and Fred, assuming that it was just a trick of the light, drove right into it. The next thing he knew, he was on an eerily similar street, but everything was just a little bit… off. Upside-down, maybe. It was like Danville, but different. Was he in an alternate dimension…?

IX.

Maybe Fred just left because he didn’t know how to be a good dad and some people just don’t know how to be good dads. Maybe not everyone’s supposed to be a parent. Maybe he feels bad about it, or maybe he doesn’t, but either way it’s probably time to stop making up crazy stories to explain what’s actually a pretty common thing, something that’s happened for hundreds of years ever since the first caveman decided he didn’t actually like his cave all that much. Maybe he just lives in Champaign now. Or Bloomington. Or Indianapolis. And he’s sitting in his kitchen just like you are right now, scrolling on his phone, eating a Lean Cuisine, and he’s not even thinking about you. Grow up, Phineas Flynn.

Okay, but he probably got abducted by aliens. It’s actually not that unlikely of a thing to happen, there’s a ton of research around it and UFO activity was really high that summer if you really look into it. Look at all these old news articles you got from the library talking about strange weather occurrences that summer. There is so much evidence. Anyone who claims to be Fred Flynn— haven’t you heard that they can imitate real people and take their place? Look it up. It’s real shit. It’s really not that far-fetched.

#swynwrimoemma #swynwrimoemma2023 #i keep trying to resist using phineas because i feel like i am rlly overdoing it with him this wrimo #what can i say he's just my favorite

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fouramradi0 · 1 year

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Hiiiii! I didn't realize we weren't mutuals before this moment gshshddh I just supposed that you followed me early on and then I followed you back. But you just followed me now, so I guess not? Who knows how we ended up here. But anyways!

I'm an artist, mostly for mcyt, but for other fandoms such as Rain World and TMA as well! I have mostly posted traditional art here, which is funny bc I have thought of myself as more of a digital artist for most of my fandom-art experience. But I generally have more time to do traditional than digital, so it just works out.

A fun fact about me: one day I decided to learn morse code and then I never forgot. I also memorized several other ciphers but I have since forgotten them.

And favorite songs: god. So many. For songs I tend to listen to on repeat, it tends to be more atmospheric like Want To Be Free by Sea Power or Let It Go by Peter Broderick, and my top song on Spotify for two years in a row has been The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical, because it scratches a very particular itch for me. But songs which are super close to my heart include Sleeping Lessons by the Shins, There's a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths, and Horchata by Vampire Weekend. I'd recommend listening to any of these, they're so good. What are yours?

Ello, i do believe we were mutuals, but I was cleaning out my following list and must have unfollowed you, so sorry! Also I’ve only listened to a bit of TMA but holy cow is it amazing!

The Morse code thing is actually very impressive, I only know SOS. Sometimes in class I’ll randomly tap SOS out lmao.

I too really like pieces and atmospheric stuff like that, John Powell has got to be a favorite. MIND ELECTRIC MY BELOVED <333

Some ones I really like are Oxygen by Beach Bunny, Space girl by Frances Forever, anything by ABBA, Lemon Demon or Will Wood, Curses by The Crane Wives, Devil went down to Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band. Gosh it’s a lot of pressure to pick a favorite, why did I ask you that nsnxjsnc. But yeah, those are a few favorites ;-;

#Radio chats #Inkydiamonds

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gigilberry · 5 years

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Questions Tag!

Thank you @myreidola for tagging me. I’ve already done this but I’m happy to do this again. It’s been a long, long while since I got to this but for once I find myself free so here goes!

Rules: answer the questions and tag 21 some people you’d like to get to know better

1. Nickname: Pakkodi, Pakkuri, Krithi

Over here it’s Cely :D

2. Zodiac: Taurus

3. Height: 5’2”

4. Last movie i saw: I’m in the very last stages of engineering college hell what’re you expecting lol I’d say it’s this one bollywood movie my friend made me watch with her back in december, an oldie but goodie. It’s called Barfi.

5. Favourite musicians: Sleeping At Last, Twenty One Pilots, Pentatonix, Skillet, Jain

6. Last thing i googled: collage maker (I just finished doing the last of my oc introduction moodboards and I hope I’ll be able to start posting them up some time around next week, cross your fingers ^^”)

7. Song stuck in my head: Misguided Ghosts by Paramore

8. Other blogs: My only one right now is @ohlooksheswriting-wips ^-^

9. Following: 374 (only a handful of them are active and the rest of them I haven’t seen on my dash in months but that’s okay)

9. Do I get asks: Every now and then, usually when I either a) draw something, b) post up one of those ‘send writer asks’ things (that usually gets me about 2, maybe 3 asks, if I’m lucky), or c) that rare, rare occurrence when the moon is gibbous, the planets are aligned, and I have in my possession the emotional reserves needed to interact with a writer regularly enough that they return the favour by sending some asks my way that last one doesn’t happen all that often and i’m more than happy to keep it that way because human interaction drains me and I’m always low battery I’m so sorry

And sometimes I get asks when I reblog a post or two and write in the notes that I’m sad or I’m having a rough time, like when it’s around exams, and then one or two sweet people come into my inbox and tell me that they like me/my blog and that they hope I feel better and Every Single Time I’m always so surprised and happy and I just aksjflsjkfdskjfksdfjsk

10. What i’m wearing: PJ’s :D (old, faded, oversized tshirt & bright party purple cotton pants)

11. Lucky numbers: 5 and 7! Since my birthday is May 7th ^.^

12. Favourite food: Currently in the mood for modakam (it’s a sweet dessert, made for particular holidays). Otherwise, I love lasagna, different kinds of sweet breads, or dahi puri

13. Dream trip: Istanbul (for the cats!). Or if I improve my spanish/japanese enough, then Spain or Japan (haha who am i kidding i don’t have that kind of courage)

14. Dream job: A job where people leave me alone? Something where I’m not being pulled in too many directions, where I get lots of quiet time to myself, and where I learn every day and I’m doing something good for the environment and for the world. So scientist is good, I guess.

15. Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Since I’ve answered this kind of ask already, I got inspired and made an aesthetic moodboard a very long while back. :D

16. Random fact: I start quietly singing to myself when I feel safe and happy

17. Languages: English (somehow that ended up being my first language), Kannada, Hindi, Spanish, Japanese, Hebrew

(and also an ever increasing number of words in tolkien dwarvish and elvish no this has nothing to do with fanfiction at all what’re you talking about hahaha)

Tagging the last 16 people in my notifications (I’ll get a proper tag games tagging post up soon I promise) :

@ashleighmustdie , @elliereblogsmemes , @jessicameats , @rooftop-soliloquy , @farrradays , @alexfireon , @georgiacambrielwritblr , @agentorange-writes , @beingbhavini , @silverartistcat , @captainpenguin-fly , @haunted-by-neptune , @hfkshbdgdjwnwvjkddghwne , @the-writers-blocks , @bethanywritesbooks , @dreamingofstarslight

(don’t worry there’s no pressure to do this ^-^)

#ask game #regarding that last one #that's also how i learnt morse code and various kinds of commonly known codes #through the books i've read in my youth #(and my brief foray into sherlock fanfiction all the way back in 2013)#(but no really i did learn the morse code thing before i got to the fanfiction things thank you)#(i have a feeling if i started reading dr. who fanfiction i just might pick up some gallifreyan)

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 2 years

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You know, I do believe Will has powers. And I do believe they're gonna show it. And yes, I also think it's going to be a big thing. People seem to forget that there's two volumes. And all the stuff we saw in that trailer is volume 1 material. Remember, season 4 is twice as long (~16 hours in total). There's still more than enough room for Will to discover and explore his powers, to be important as a character in general and for all these things to work well in volume 2. And beyond.

For Will's role in the supernatural side of this seasons conflict, the watch could fit in with the clock vecna has alluding to Will having some sort of semi unique connection with him or it has something to do with alarms and sleep..... honestly imo one of Will's biggest strengths against the upside down is how damn pragmatic the kid can be in life or dear situations and I'd really like to see that expanded on with whatever the Cali gang is up to

I'm going to throw these two Asks together since they cover the same topic.

I do have to keep reminding myself that we really only know anything about Volume 1. While we don't know exactly where it ends, we can probably assume it's after episode 4 or 5. You're right that they would have time to at least introduce him having powers by the time we reach the end of the season. I would imagine, though, that if they do go with him having powers, the reveal would be near the end of the season. Season 5 would then be about him learning to use his powers, so he can help end things once and for all. It would be a sort of bookend after everything having started with him in season 1, episode 1.

It's possible there's some connection between Vecna's clock and Will's watch, I suppose. They're both timepieces, one older and mechanical, the other more modern and electronic. Perhaps there is a significance to the clock that Will is able to figure out, though I don't even know when they make it to Hawkins.

If the clock is signifying a countdown of some sort, then I suppose Will might be able to figure it out. He's worked in code before, and he did a project on Alan Turing. I'd like there to be more to Will than that, though. They've really given us few hints as to what Will could bring to the table next season. All we have to go on is what he's done before.

Seasons 1 & 2 do tell us how clever, brave, pragmatic, and strong-willed he is, though. He survived in the Upside Down for a week even though he was being hunted. He managed to send messages to his mom very soon after being stuck in there. He found a way to communicate through drawings when words failed him regarding the Mindflayer. He was able to use Morse code to tell the heroes how to stop the Mindflayer, despite probably know it might kill him. Will got the short end of the stick in season 3, where he was just a walking Detect Evil spell who was pining over Mike. As much as I feel that was intentional, and probably still needs to be touched on next season, I fear another season like that will just convince casual fans that he's The Load (see TVTropes for a description).

I want to circle back to the whole watch thing, actually. For those of you who don't know, the Funko Pop (and whatever the name of the other figures are) for Will in season 4 has him reaching for his watch.

It's probably a stretch, but the left wrist is where El, and presumably the other subjects, have their number tattoos. I no longer believe that Will is the person in front of the burning car (probably part of a Vecna trance, if I had to guess), I still like the idea I had for what could happen if it were Will. I had written a little scenario for it, but all that really matters is that Will's watch would blink 12:00 after using his powers for the first time.

With something involving his watch seeming to be of some import, maybe they could still do something like this. Even if it isn't directly linked to him manifesting powers, perhaps it could still be used as a type of foreshadowing. It could be something as simple as his watch breaking, so, no matter how often he tries to set the time, it keeps resetting to a blinking 12:00. Bonus points if he's the only one whose watch messes up, or at least is the only one shown.

Even if nothing like that is going to happen, please, oh please, don't let Will be reduced to something like the official timekeeper of the Pizza Party.

#stranger things 4 #will byers

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years

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Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #soulmate au #fluff #harry styles fluff #invisible string #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 3

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.9k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

Still sleeping on only a mattress slowly took its toll on your back. You woke up at least three times a night. Twice because of your back and once because of some knocking against the wall. Every time that happened, it was in another rhythm how knuckles tried to keep you from sleeping.

For a while you observed how the morning sunshine dipped your room in a warm orange. Dust particles were dancing through the air and made their way to the floor. There was something about waking up to the sun on weekday mornings you never were able to enjoy during your semesters. Summer break was perfect for that.

That comforting silence didn’t last forever, though. Low knocking echoed from the other side of the room. You turned your body to face it. That rhythm was new. Different than those in the middle of the night. You paid attention.

Short, long. Short, long, long. Short, long. Long, short, long. Short. Short, short, long, long, short, short.

AWAKE?

You blankly stared at the wall and couldn’t believe it. During your childhood you had done the weirdest things, such as learning the morse code, to keep you occupied. Had Eric done that too? Or did he use a chart to knock you with little messages out of your sleep?

You didn’t care. You just wanted some little more peace before getting up. So you responded.

Short, short, short. Short, short, short, short. Short, short, long. Long. Short, short, long. Short, long, long, short.

There was a small laughter to be heard from the other side of the wall but then it stayed quiet.

Even though Eric’s teasing was quiet disturbing, you still rather lived here than back with your ex. You could somehow handle Eric whereas you never really knew what to expect from your ex after breaking up with him. After all it had not been the funniest of times.

You grabbed the nearest shorts and rummaged through the pockets to find a paper. Hilbert’s ninth problem. You focused on that. Until you heard Eric’s door making that cracking open sound. His foot steps trailed to the kitchen and when the coffee machine made its ‚PING‘ to signal it was ready to brew, you got up yourself and out of your room.

Eric didn’t say ‚good morning‘ so neither did you.

Reaching out for the shelf to grab a cup, you once again didn’t reach it. He leaned over, almost right into you with his bare chest – why did he never wear shirts in the mornings? – and grabbed two cups from the shelf. Eric placed them right next to the coffee machine and then turned, crossed his arms and just stared at you.

First, his intense eyes locked with yours. There was no way you could possibly guess what he was thinking with the harsh face he was wearing. Eric’s slightly pinched eyes made you lose some of your self esteem, though. His unapologetic stares weren’t that new to you, but only wearing your sleeping attire, a tank top and some sleeping shorts, made you feel insecure when his glance diverted to the rest of your body. You crossed your arms to have some little cover at least.

„Where’s everyone at?“ You asked, trying to fill that damn awkward silence. The apartment was empty, with all of the doors open.

„Don’t know.“

Another ‚PING‘ chimed. You walked around Eric, since he was still occupied with weirdly staring into your face, and poured some coffee into a cup. You hesitated to put back the pot into the machine and actually poured coffee into the second cup as well. Then you quickly grabbed your cup and went out to sit on the balcony. Gladly, you noticed him leaving for his room.

A morning coffee, a refreshing shower and an after shower coffee later, you continued with the study. You finally had found a way to properly lock the bathroom from the inside. The trick was to just drag your chair across the hallway and slam it under the door handle. That worked just fine. Unpleasant was, though, that there was not much that had to be done for the study today. No new data yet, still you tried to blindly swim around the model and work on some problems you weren’t able to solve yet. Free time wasn’t your favorite thing to have during summer break, especially not this summer break. You were still a little peeved that your friends had just abandoned you on the day of you moving. So meeting up with them wasn’t on your to do list for this summer.

Neither was visiting your parents since they were living out of state. You didn’t really want to head down to the hell the Florida Keys were in summer. It would be even hotter than here in Chicago. None of your hobbies sounded appealing enough to you today and all your roommates were gone. Except for one.

The only thing on your to do list was to buy a new bed frame.

„Shouldn’t you be out and do something instead of constantly crouching over your desk?“ Again, he leaned in the doorframe and you didn’t know for how long Eric was already there.

„Can’t,“ you were actually tracking down a possible solution and couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on anywhere else than your calculations.

„What is it that’s so important?“ It was the first time he entered your room. You noticed him move out of the corner of your eye and sensed him coming to a stop right next to you. He must’ve checked your computer screen and the papers in front of you. You couldn’t really care, though. Whenever one of those problem-solving-trains hit, you just physically couldn’t stop yourself. „Is that professor Matthews’ study?“

„Yep,“ you mumbled.

„I heard about it, tried to get in but that didn’t work out.“ His voice had a tone you had never heard before. „What’s your part in it?“ Was it honest interest?

„I’m responsible, with others of course, for the mathematical model. But please shut up for a few second okay? I’m almost done.“ You tried to talk and still follow your train of thoughts. „Just need to get it out of the brain.“

Eric stayed surprisingly silent while your hand was still moving around your desk, fishing for various papers and scribbling onto them in the illegible handwriting of yours.

You threw the pencil away, once you were mainly done with bringing the theory on paper. „So what do you wanna know?“ You asked and turned around in the same moment. That Eric had kneeled down next to you had escaped your attention. You blinked at him, his face only a couple of inches away. That this proximity suddenly slowed up your pulse confused you. He was too close. Way too close. You leaned back in your chair and swallowed.

Eric on the other hand didn’t seem to be uncomfortable at all. „How did you get in?“

„They asked, actually.“

„They asked?“ His eyebrows raised themselves to the top of Willis Tower.

„Yes.“ You replied, a little unsure of why that would be so odd. Back during high school there was this hype your teachers made about your mathematical skills. But that wasn’t reason for you to think that you were some wunderkind like Einstein or something. You just liked math. Like some people actually did. Not many, but those in your major all had similar experiences during their childhood and school time. So of course, when they had asked you to join the study, you accepted.

Eric let himself sink against the wall next to your makeshift desk. It was the first time you ever saw something like true recognition radiating off of him. And he didn’t hide it. He wanted to know more. He questioned a lot about the study and your part in it. He was interested in how math helped with a clinical study and it slowly dawned on you why he might’ve taken all those classes of yours. Those were all about adapting math in a way to help solve social orientated problems.

After having to compete with him for the upper hand in those stupid debates, you were a little gleeful that it was you who took part in professor Matthews’ study.

This conversation was everything but a discussion. And you found that it could be really enjoyable to have a decent talk with him. You even offered to put in a good word for him at the next meeting with the staff. No clue where this came from, though.

„Hey, Eric?“ The two of you had changed from your room to the dining table because of the close-by coffee refuels. „Would you do me a favor?“

He was currently getting the freshly brewed pot and nodded to the empty cup in your hands so he could refill it. You handed it to him. „What kind of favor?“

„I need a car,“ you stated, instantly noticing the disdain on his face. „Only for a couple of hours. Not long.“

Eric shook his head. „I’m not lending my car.“ He returned the hot cup and sat down across from you. „I can drive you, though,“ Eric added.

That took you by surprise. „Oh.“ You hadn’t thought he would give his car to you in the first place anyway. Wondering where this kindness suddenly came from left you without an answer. But you decided to accept it. „Okay.“

/////

Eric’s mission was to try every single bed in the furniture store. You tried to explain it didn’t really matter anyways since you already had a mattress. He insisted on still laying down and pulled you along with him. „A new bed,“ he said, „must meet many requirements. Not only the coziness factor of the mattress.“ His voice was a whisper next to you. That low rasp in it drew your attention to his full lips, perfectly framed by the stubble he rarely cared to shave.

Finding yourself laying in a bed next to Eric, even if it was in a furniture store and on full public display, weirdly quickened your pulse again. The way his fingers randomly touched your thigh made you nervous. He probably didn’t even notice, or cared, that his hand was in contact with the bare skin below your shorts. Still, it let your insecurities flame up again. Laying next to a perfectly built and defined man like him brought back memories you rather wanted to escape.

„That’s not the one,“ you quickly stated and rolled out of bed. There was no paper in your pockets this time, and it wasn’t the right place anyway, to distract your brain with. Instead you concentrated on the multiple bed frames. It was a tough task – nothing really suited your taste.

„How about that one, Y/N?“ Eric had been shouting through the whole store. You turned and saw him laying in a child’s bed – car shape.

The view of his legs sticking out on the bed end, because he was simply too tall for it, made you laugh out loud. You couldn’t hold it back nor lower the volume. By the time you reached him, he had joined in on the banter. Next to the car shaped bed was a pink unicorn one. He sat on it and said you could have his bed, he would buy this one. Your laughter increased.

„You think I wouldn’t buy it?“

You shook your head, biting back the laughter.

Eric got up and looked around for a salesman. When he spotted one, he raised his hand to wave him over but you were quick to grab his hand and pull it down. „Stop it!“ For a moment too long you held onto his hand. It caused both of you to look down at your hands like they weren’t attached to your arms and had a mind to themselves. Then your eyes slowly moved up to Eric’s and locked with them. Both of you probably tried to find a reason as to why your hands were still holding onto each other. When Eric’s fingers tried to intertwine with yours, you suddenly realised that you were holding. his. hand.

You instantly let it go like you burned yourself and went back to search for a bed frame. The urge to get out of here made you choose a random but simple bed frame. The salesman Eric had wanted to wave over was now at your side to take your order.

You went with him to the check out desk, Eric quietly following the two of you, and paid for your new bed. The salesman printed out some papers, stapled them together and handed them over. „The pick up station is three blocks down the street.“ He pointed to the left of the exit.

„Thank you.“ Grabbing the papers, you headed to leave, Eric ahead of you and holding the door open.

„Have fun with the new bed,“ the salesman inappropriately winked at the two of you on your way out. When your brain processed his remark, a heat in your face rose. To your luck, Eric was walking in front of you to his car and you tried to make the heat go away by fanning your face with the papers. You didn’t understand why all of this made you feel so… weird.

The short ride to the warehouse was silent. Even with the radio on. Eric waited in the car when it came to a stop on the lot. You got out to turn in the papers and get the bed.

The sun was blazing down while you waited for the employee to return with the package. You caught Eric staring in your direction but with the sunglasses on you couldn’t see what possibly was going on his brain. But to be fair, you couldn’t even pinpoint that when he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.

„Here you go.“ A trolley with two big packages was pushed next to you. If that would fit into Eric’s muscle car? You weren’t so sure about that.

As you turned around to wave at him, he was already at your side. Was he a cat? Or why was he always able to sneak up so quietly?

He probably saw the concern on your face because he just said ‚we got this’ and pushed the trolley over to his car. Eric suggested to remove the packaging so you could play Tetris and fit everything in. That worked pretty well and you were soon ready to head home.

It was Eric who tried to remove that awkward mood between you. He just started chatting about a new group of penguins in the zoo. That he usually went there once a week since the entrance was free and that he did it to stay grounded in stressful times. A while ago he adopted a penguin called Smartie. Him being so open about something not study related was surprising but even more surprising was that he basically invited you to join him some time to go and see the new ‚kids‘ as he called them.

Back home you carried all parts of the bed up to the third story. Eric left to find a proper parking space for his car and you started on building up the bed frame. The instruction must’ve been somewhere attached to the packaging you left at the warehouse because you couldn’t find it. That wasn’t too much a problem, though. Studying the parts you had for a second, you figured out a plan and already started putting pieces together when you noticed Eric, silently of course, appearing in your doorframe.

„I’ll help you,“ he offered. It didn’t sound much like an offer, though. More like a fact.

It didn’t take long with his help to build up the bed, place in the slatted frame and lift the mattress on top of it. You didn’t really have a plan where to put the bed but for some reason Eric convinced you to position it at the exact same spot your mattress had laid before.

„Thank you for your help.“ You sat down on your new bed and checked if it didn’t break with the first contact. It didn’t.

Eric’s lips parted and he wanted to say something. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he wanted to say something else when everything that came out was a sharp ‚Sure‘.

Before you could ask him if he’d like a beer, just to be polite after him helping you all day, he made a beeline for his room. And stayed there.

/////

He didn’t come out for dinner and you decided you didn’t care. When you finally crashed that night, after having multiple board game showdowns with Will, you instantly knew that you’d sleep well. The bed was super comfy. Eric had been right, the mattress only didn’t do the thing, everything had to match up.

You didn’t even check your phone anymore, your eyes too heavy to stay open.

A gentle knock came from the other side of the wall. You turned to it and listened.

Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. Good night? Those two knocked letters brought a faint smile to your lips you couldn’t fight. You returned the same knocks and fell asleep. Smiling.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih

Wanna get tagged too for future updates? Lemme know 🖤

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 19

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

While at first the days and nights that Mulder is away on a case feel lonely, she soon comes to appreciate the time to herself. She reads more, watches the rom-coms that he despises, has one-sided conversations with Priscilla, and gives her vibrator, long since relegated to the back of her bedside drawer, a second lease on life. When Mulder is home he’s more animated and energetic, their sex exciting and passionate. The things she loves best about him magnified, but also some of the worst. There have been a few nights he’s missed dinner without so much as a phone call, and her worry quickly gave way to irritation when he waltzed in the door raving about secret storage facilities hidden in mountains. They create new routines, new boundaries and expectations, and as time wears on, they adjust. He’ll call if he’s going to miss dinner, and she won’t guilt trip him when unexpected cases ruin their plans.

The day before Thanksgiving, he gets a tip from one of his sources about a UFO crash site in Utah and books himself and Monica tickets for that night. Scully questions whether he’s going to miss Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s and he grimaces, saying he hopes to be back but as usual, can’t make any promises.

The last she hears from him is around 8:00 am on Thanksgiving day when he asks her to send his regrets to her mom. She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she promises to pack up some leftovers for him to have when he gets home. When he hasn’t called by Friday afternoon, she’s a little bit worried. By Friday night, she’s panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, she goes to the Gunmen’s, using her own special knock that spells out “doc” in Morse code.

“Hey, Sis, are you okay?” Missy greets her with a worried frown, now an honorary fourth member of the trio.

“I haven’t heard from Mulder in over twenty four hours,” she answers, breezing past Missy and into the tech room. “I need you to find him for me.”

The Gunmen work their magic while Missy pours her drink after drink. They track his flight into Salt Lake City and then ping his cell phone just outside Provo around 8:00 pm Thursday night. After that, nothing.

“What do you know about the case he was investigating?” Byers asks, perched behind a computer with Missy’s arms draped over his shoulders, her chin resting on his head.

Scully rubs her hands over her face in frustration. “Nothing, other than an alleged UFO crash site. He didn’t give me any other information.”

“What about his partner, Agent Reyes?” Langly asks, “do you have any way to get ahold of her?”

“I’ve tried her cell a hundred times, it’s off,” Scully replies, feeling tears coming up again.

“Does she have a family, someone else you could contact to see if she’s been in touch?” Byers adds.

“She has a partner, Dahlia,” Scully explains, “but I don’t know her last name to look up her number. I’m sure it’s in Monica’s file as her emergency contact, but the whole Hoover Building is shut down for the holiday. I know that her first name is Dahlia, she works at a flower shop in Alexandria, and they live in Palisades. That’s it.”

“Well we can work with that, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Frohike offers, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her voice small and afraid.

“I’ll come with you, Sis,” Missy says, replacing Frohike behind Scully and wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

After Missy has gathered her things and kissed Byers goodbye, she drives Scully’s car back to her apartment and plies her with more alcohol. They hold hands as they sleep, Scully’s dreams plagued by visions of Mulder detained, hurt, or worst of all, dead. If she’d had any idea that having the X files reopened would put his life at risk, she never would have entertained the idea.

Please come home, she begs God, the universe, Mulder himself if he’s somewhere listening. Please be okay.

The phone shrieks and she sits up abruptly, her head spinning. Early dawn light is just beginning to seep into the room and she feels like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Mulder?!” she blurts out, a thousand prayers on the tip of her tongue.

“No, it’s Langly, sorry. We got a number for Agent Reyes’ partner.”

Missy is now awake, and scrambles to the hallway to get a pen and paper so Scully can write down Dahlia Vidales’ phone number.

“Thank you Langly, bye,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response. She dials Dahlia’s number with shaky hands, repeating please please please in her head over and over.

“¿Hola?” says a creaky voice, and Scully glances at the clock to see that it’s only 6:00 am.

“Dahlia?” she asks desperately, her head feeling thick and muddy.

“¿Si, Quién es?”

“This is Dana Scully, have you heard from Monica recently?” Her throat feels thick and dry, her ears ringing in protest of what they might hear.

“Oh, Hi Dana. Yes, I spoke to her last night around ten pm.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.

“Was Mulder with her?” she questions, her jaw quivering.

“Si, she said their cell phones were confiscated and they had stopped at a diner to get something to eat. She called me from a payphone. Is everything okay, Dana?”

She’s shaking, her body suddenly freezing even under her down comforter. The tension she’s been holding for the last two days erupts in a wave of tremors and she starts sobbing.

“Did she say when they’ll be home?” she forces out around her tears.

“They were hoping to get a flight this morning, so sometime today, should be.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Sorry to wake you,” she says, and hangs up.

Missy holds her as she shakes uncontrollably, her head aching as her racking sobs jostle her dehydrated brain. Missy runs her a hot bath and after some ibuprofen, two big glasses of water, a set of warm clothes and a hot meal, she feels physically much better.

Mentally, she has shifted from worry, fear, and despair to white hot rage. When he walks in that door, she is going to kill him.

———

“Later, Reyes, sorry to hijack your Thanksgiving,” he says with a regretful smile as Monica slides into a cab. He grabs the next one, chucking his duffel bag into the trunk and slumping into the back seat with an exhausted sigh.

It’s been a long few days. They’d located the crash site and even got a little peek at it from behind a utility shed, but soon after they were loaded up in a paddy wagon and interrogated for six hours in a place that was definitely not a police station. When they were finally released, it was without their cell phones, though the suits were kind enough to let them keep their FBI badges.

He needs a shower and a shave, and a good night's sleep. He hopes Scully has gone grocery shopping, and if he's really lucky, there will still be Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d tried calling her from the terminal but she hadn’t answered. At least he has a full day off tomorrow before getting back to the daily grind on Monday.

The cab drops him off outside Scully’s apartment building and he tosses some money over the seat before retrieving his bag. Once inside, he’s fitting his key into the lock when the door swings open and he finds Melissa on the other side.

“Oh, hey Missy,” he says with a touch of surprise.

“I was just leaving,” she replies with an icy stare, and he wonders if something is up with her and Byers.

“Okay, see ya,” he says as she brushes past him and down the hall.

The apartment is dim, a fire crackling in the fireplace the only source of light.

“Scully?” he calls out as Priscilla trots up to him, rubbing her flank against his leg. He picks her up and scratches under her chin, letting her rub her cheek against his two-day stubble.

“I’m here,” Scully says flatly, and he realizes she’s lying on the couch.

He picks up his bag and walks it to the bedroom, dropping it on the floor and discarding his suit jacket on the bed. Returning to the living room, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek and then stands between the fire and the couch, facing her.

“Did you have plans for dinner?” he asks, “I’m starving.”

She scoffs, but he can’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” she spits at him, and he physically recoils. Scully very rarely swears, so when she does, it means something.

“Whoa,” he says with a concerned tone, “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” she repeats, moving to sit up. “What’s going on with me? Hmm, let’s see,” she continues, her voice shifting to angry sarcasm. “Perhaps, Mulder, what’s going on with me is that my boyfriend skipped town just in time to miss Thanksgiving dinner with my family and I had to answer questions all night about where he was. Or maybe,” she says as she leans over and snaps on the lamp on the end table, illuminating her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, pronounced bags resting underneath them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t heard from you in over fifty hours, not a single phone call, or email, nothing. Maybe what’s going on with me, Mulder, is that I have barely slept in two days.” She stands, moving towards him, her voice rising in volume and her bottom lip quivering. “Maybe what’s going on with me is that I thought you were fucking dead, and I had to track down Dahlia to learn that not only were you alive and well, but you were also perfectly capable of calling me, but simply chose not to. MAYBE that is what is going on with me, Mulder!”

He stands there shell-shocked as she pushes past him, slamming the bedroom door shut as wails of agony erupt from the other side. Priscilla jumps up on to the coffee table and quirks her head at him with a meow.

“I have no idea,” he says to the cat.

He cautiously opens the bedroom door and finds Scully sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a wad of tissues in her hand and tears streaking her face. She looks up at him with a wounded expression that he’s never seen before, and would never like to again

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says softly, approaching her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“How the hell would I not worry if I hear nothing from you for two days, Mulder? What was I supposed to think? And why didn’t you call me?”

“They took my phone, Scully,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What about the phone in your hotel room, Mulder? Or a pay phone, or a goddamn stranger’s phone. Your cell phone is not the only device available for you to contact me with.”

He’s starting to feel like he’s being lectured by his mother for staying out past curfew.

“Okay, Jesus, I get it. I’ll try to call next time,” he says with an irritated tone.

“You’ll try?” Scully asks him, the anger taking center stage again.

He shrugs. “Shit happens, Scully. You don’t know what it’s like out in the field. Sometimes you don’t have access to a phone, or you’re running down a lead and just can’t waste the time to make a call.”

The shift in her demeanor tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“Waste the time?” she asks in a tight whisper. “Calling me so I know you’re okay is a waste of your time?”

“God, no, Scully, that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words around. Look, I’m exhausted, I’ve barely gotten any sleep, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“YOU’VE barely gotten any sleep?!” she screams, then stands and walks towards him. Even with the ten inches he has on her, she looks larger than life, imposing, and scary. “I have been lying awake crying for two days worried about you!” she shouts up at him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He’s dumbstruck. He can’t remember the last time she referred to it as her apartment instead of theirs.

“Scully, you can’t be serious, all my stuff is he-”

“I said get OUT!” She cuts him off. She picks up his bag and walks it to the front door, tossing it into the hallway.

He walks slowly towards the door, waiting for her to say she doesn’t mean it, that they should get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. She stands beside the open door, her chest heaving and her jaw set, eyes focused on some far-away point but most certainly not on him. He steps into the hallway, opening his mouth to speak, and she slams the door in his face.

He hears the thunk of the deadbolt, and the sound strikes him as similar to the final nail in a coffin.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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themadauthorshatter · 2 years

Text

Ngl, I was either in bed or in the shower when I thought of this, and it just clicked.

I have headcanons for Dad!Charles, who is inspired off of the Single Dad Charles AU by @bambidoodles (no, I refuse to stop @-ing her because she deserves credit and I like talking to her), amd now I just need to balance it out.

DAD!HENRY HEADCANONS!

Did Henry find his kid? Not really. He more ran into them one day, as they were around 5 or 6, maybe 7, and they followed him before they got tired. Eventually, Henry got fed up with the kid following him and he carried them on his back when he saw they had no shoes on.

He informally adopted them when he learned they were an orphan and didn't know their parents, having been thrown out of an orphanage for stealing food amd money, SO THEY COULD BUY FOOD. Recognizing himself in the child, in spirit, of course, he took the child under his wing, telling them not to steal from him because they're on the same side, not to get stingey because karma's a bitch, and not to snitch because he'll find out, come find them, and then make sure they get no dessert for the rest of their life.

The child, who I'm naming Reese, is street smart only, so Henry teaches them how to read and write. They hate it, because it's work, but it's a price to pay for having a roof over their head.

Do they know Henry's a theif? Duh, that's why they make distractions by doing things like screaming for their dad or asking people to help them into their jacket or tie their shoes. They can do all of this on their own, but it helps Henry.

Henry realizes he loves and likes having Reese around when he can't find them and runs around screaming for them. He finds them sitting with the police, who scold Henry for not raising his kid right because they tried taking an apple from a farmer's market.

The two go home and Henry holds Reese close for an hour or two, or three. Reese asks what hus deal was, because they were trying to help, but Henry admits he was scared Reese got hurt. Reese is a menace, but their HIS menace.

Reese asks if they can call him their dad, of that's the case, and the two hug once more.

Reese hates anythung that isn't math. They're so good at it that they teach it to Henry.

When Henry was taken by the government, they took Reese too, not as leverage, but because they were young and there wasn't anyone to qatch them and, before going out for good, Henry grumbled at them to not hurt Reese.

They brought them along and they stayed in the helicopter while their dad 'helped' the government.

Depending on the ending, Reese is either made a toppat and is made the Clan's kid, kinda like how Johnny is the gang's pet in The Outsiders, or a loose ally of the government with Charles as their godfather becuse he was good at keeping them calm.

When The Wall came for Henry, Reese called Charles and stayed with him, even going on missions with him until Henry called and got picked up. If this was aToppat ending while this happened, like Toppat King route, Reese would be in the care of RHM and Reginald.

Why is he so bad at coming home even WITH a child? The Wall is led by Dmitri, that's why.

Toppat!Henry is more of one of those villain fathers. Like think Mandrake from Epic; he's evil, but he loves his child, letting them go on heists when they're old enough, teaching them how to shoot and sneak past guards, how to do takedowns, all that jazz.

Government!Henry is more of a dad in that he makes jokes, picks on his kid, and even doing dad things like teaching them how to drive and use ALS and Morse code.

Betrayed Ending/Revenged Henry finds out Reese was indeed in the care of RHM and Reginald, and was careful to make sure they weren't hurt during both fights with Reg and Right, though Rghit pulled a Dirty Bird and threatened to shoot Reese if Henry didn't stand down. He, of course, did, and threw Reese out of the way so the two could fight. Reg had Reese during the whole thing and tried tricking making them turn against Henry, but they ultimately stayed at their father's side, even when the airship crashed. Henry shielded Reese, for the most part, but they got out with a broken arm and helped their dad to that rock he dies on the in OG route. As he dies, Henry asks Reese why they didn't turn against him. Reese admits they wanted to, because they love annoying their dad, but wanted to know he was safe before grinding his gears.

The two have a moment where Henry admits that he loves Reese, that he's glad he's glad they followed him, and that he's glad to have been Reese's dad.

Reese is glad to have thought to even followed him, that they stayed by his side, and that they were his child.

Henry dies, Reese is upset, and is found by the government and taken in by Charles, who states Henry couldn't be all bad if he saved and took care of a child.

Back to fluff: Henry usually wakes up because Reese wakes him up, like at 7 am.

Reese is homeschooled, and a lot of people wonder if Reese has any social anxiety.

They don't. They'll just steal from the other students.

Reese likes clowns , but not the scary ones.

They have megalaphibia, or that fear of giant things.

They RULE at Rock, paper, scissors, and it drives Henry crazy.

The two bond over some good old 90's jazz.

Both cried when they watched Shiloh.

The only reason Reese qould take something is because they like looking at it.

Reese lives with Henry rent free, though they pay in physical touch, like hugs and just laying close to each other.

Reese does not have seperation anxiety, but Henry has to tell them where he is and where he's going because they have abandonment issues.

#the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin #dad!henry #gun tw #child endangerment tw #oc #au #somewhat of a reverse!Cameron #one more thing i am not promising #Henry's a fairly good dad

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Long Nights - part 5

Neil x Reader

Chapter 5: After rain

(see chapter 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: you learn to cope with the new situation, but you aren't the only one struggling

warnings: 18+, angst and pain, explicit language and other things

author’s note: This part of the story's been with me for... oh, so long. I just hope I did it justice. ✨6,1k words.✨ I don't even know.

Hurt/Comfort.

The song for this part is Dermot Kennedy - After rain

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

Your hands clenched on the bed’s frame, its coldness felt like the only real thing your drugged mind could process.

Doctor’s words were filling the room, but they were muffled as if they were coming from behind a barrier. Falling from such height...extreme luck...no broken bones…head trauma...internal bruising....

Was all that talking really necessary? Yeah, you were battered, all right. And it seems that even with painkillers the weird throbbing, like a morse code from your bruised cells, was about to stay with you for a little while.

...just like the darkness.

The more the doctor spoke, the more it became clear that they didn’t have any definite answers for you. Seemed like the day spent on being prodded, stabbed with needles, and tossed into various machines resulted in nothing more than a verdict: optic nerve injury.

As for what were you supposed to do now--

“Let me get this straight, doctor,” you said, slowly losing patience. “Your only solution now is: let’s wait and see what happens?”

Drumming fingers against a piece of plastic, followed by a sigh.

“Yes. There is no effective treatment, we could try a high dosage of corticosteroids, but there is no evidence that it’s gonna make any difference, really. And as some recovery may spontaneously occur within days or weeks--”

Weeks.

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you swallowed with effort.

And that was a maybe.

You just wanted to go home.

“Grand,” you cut in, “please tell me I can wait for that possible joyful occurrence anywhere else but here.” You aimed for a lighter tone, but every word coming out of your mouth was dripping with bitterness. Grimacing at your own attitude, you forced a weak smile to appear on your face. “No offense, doc.”

“None taken,” the doctor said with a snicker. “I get it.” A short pause filled with a rustling of paper. “With all the tests done, I don’t think we need to keep you here for observation any longer, but I’d recommend you weren’t alone for the next few days. Do you have anyone to take care of you after we discharge you?”

“I don’t need--”

Neil’s firm voice overlapped with yours.

“Yes, she has.”

You huffed, startled. And a bit annoyed.

You almost forgot Neil was in the room, but to be fair, you were quite sure he’d never left your side since you woke up. His initial nervous chatter got replaced by a silent presence, always ready to jump in should you needed anything - no matter if it was a glass of water or an arm to lean on. It was all comforting, endearing even, and you were so grateful to have him around, but the thought of having Neil in your apartment triggered an irrational panic.

Instead of dwelling on the roots of the anxiety, you decided to over-talk it.

“Neil, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay, and you surely have better things to do than babysitting me.”

“I don’t.” Was that a hint of hurt in his voice? “Doctor, can you discharge her even if she is gonna be alone out there?”

“I’d rather she spent at least one more day here then.”

Unbelievable. You rolled your eyes, hoping it would make the same effect as always, and groaned. “Fine, you win, only because I want nothing else but to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Excellent,” said the doctor cheerfully, “I’ll get the forms and come back to you soon.”

“Thank you, doc,” you sighed, hanging your head in defeat.

After spending enough time with a person, it was always easy to recognize them by the way they walk. That’s how you knew it was Neil who approached you, ever so hesitantly.

And only because of a brush of his fingers against your hand you realized you were still clinging onto the bed frame.

“Hey, I’ll just help you set up everything you need there, all right?” he said quietly and you felt him sitting down next to you. “You’re gonna have all the space you want, and as soon as you decide it’s too much, I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.”

He must have noticed that little panic of yours, huh?

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to form a coherent thought. “It sounds good though, thank you.”

“Sure thing.” Neil shifted slightly. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged and grimaced. “I don’t know, but either I’ve slept through the best high or these drugs they gave me are kinda lame.” Hearing Neil’s light chuckle, you cracked a small smile. “Honestly? I’m knackered.”

He hummed with sympathy.

“Is there anything I can do for you now?”

The softness in his voice was more than your tired and dazed mind could handle. You leaned to the side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just… take me home,” you asked, forcing the words past your clenched throat.

Neil exhaled sharply and carefully wrapped an arm around you, pressing a cheek to the top of your head.

“Of course.”

------

“Welcome to my crib.”

“Thank you, it’s...” - Neil hesitated as he closed the door behind you - “...cosy.”

Patting the wall to your right, you located a small hook and hung the keys on it.

“That is certainly one word for it,” you snorted. “Why, what did you expect?”

“Frankly? Considering you’re such an... acclaimed locksmith, I imagined something… well, bigger, for starters.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he stumbled on words, trying so hard not to sound offensive in any way.

Grinning, you put on your most snobbish tone. “Ah, sorry to disappoint, all my gold, glitter, and general pizzaz got moved to one of my many summer houses as my spacious lair worthy of the most infamous thief is under renovation, so I was forced to retreat to my humble family place in this ghastly neighborhood.”

“Such a shame,” he said and a smile brightened his words. “I like it, though. Matches your vibe, somehow.”

“Because it’s small, detached, empty, yet somehow messy?”

Neil sighed in a way you were absolutely sure he was rolling eyes at you, then helped you with the coat. “It’s gonna take more than putting words in my mouth to make me want to leave you here all by yourself, you know.”

You were quite sure a dirty joke was hiding in there, but it eluded your tired brain.

“Damn, need to up my game then,” you giggled, leaning against the wall to take the shoes off without losing your balance. “Nah, I’m messing with you, I’m grateful you got me out of there. Can’t wait to rinse that hospital stench off of me.”

“Do you want me to run a bath for you?”

You mused over the idea for a moment, “Thanks, I’ll take a shower - two minutes tops and I’d end up asleep in the ‘tub.” Probably even faster, considering that you already were running on fumes. “Anyway, make yourself at home, gonna grab some fresh clothes.”

Neil was not willing to give up.

“I’ll get you--”

“I’ve got this,” you uttered, instantly hating yourself for how harsh it came out, so you quickly added, “But would you please put the kettle on?” sending an apologetic grimace along with your words.

“On it.”

He seemed happy to have something to do. Or at least sounded like it as he took the crackling grocery and takeaway bags to the kitchenette.

You walked across the room with confidence, your hand reluctantly extended ahead on your waist level just in case you miscalculated the route to the bedroom. When you reached the door frame, you smiled to yourself. It wasn’t that hard, was it? Almost like going to the bathroom at night, not willing to put the light on to avoid waking up, right?

And exactly then, your shin hit the edge of the bed footboard, the impact sending a searing wave of pain up your whole leg. You bit your knuckle to stifle a groan and a curse that was bound to follow. Every. Goddamn. Time.

The noises coming from the other room stopped, but luckily there was no question. Nor a hero coming to rescue you from the sudden and vicious attacks of furniture.

Finally, the closet. Your fingers ran through the folded clothes. Clean underwear. A soft t-shirt. Comfy pj pants. The fatigue was so severe that the term dress to impress didn’t even cross your mind. Not that Neil cared, right? But before you stepped back from the wardrobe, you hesitated, sliding your hands down to one of the bottom drawers. All that boring into nothingness was straining, and keeping your eyes closed all the time felt wrong, somehow. Might as well, you shrugged, pulling out a silky blindfold. Maybe this would trick your brain into thinking it was just a game. A temporary thing. Nothing serious.

...but what if--

You took a shaky breath and slammed the closet shut. Swallowing with effort, you took the clothes and limped out of the room, then followed the wall to the bathroom.

Neil’s concerned voice reached you halfway there.

“You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said and flashed your teeth in a strained grin.

“Let me know if you need anything, all right?”

A change of strategy, then. You certainly didn’t mind, at least this way it didn’t trigger the unnecessarily rude reaction. And you had a feeling that you were going to need a pair of eyes to take care of those bruises of yours.

...or you could just follow the radiating ache and slap some gel where it hurts most, but at this point, as the painkillers were slowly wearing off, it would probably be easier to just pour the whole tube on the tiles and roll over in it.

“Will do, thanks.”

You closed the door behind you and sighed. The undressing required an accompaniment of grunts, hisses and curses, and when you finally got into the shower (hitting yourself only once while doing so) you were all sweaty and panting as if you’d run up twenty flights of stairs.

You winced as the warm water poured over your body, but you couldn’t wait to get rid of the lingering smell of antiseptics. Using soap uncovered the injured spots with a burning precision, but you gritted your teeth and soldiered through it, changing position slightly so you wouldn’t cause more damage with shampoo and conditioner. Condemning your past self for choosing a matching set of hair products, you were forced to guess and pick one to pour a little bit of it on your hand to judge which is which based on the texture of the fluid. Why did you even bother…?

When you were done and more or less dry, you put on the panties and wrapped another towel around yourself. A slow thumping in your head was growing stronger by the minute, but it was still bearable. As for taking care of the bruises… you realized you didn’t even know where the arnica ointment was. You’d bought one on your way just in case, but that meant--

You groaned and rubbed an eye with the back of your hand. Help it was, then.

“Neil?” you called out, cracking open the door.

A sudden rumble of a chair made you cringe, but a corner of your mouth twitched.

“What is it?” he asked as his rushed steps carried him closer.

“Could you help me with putting something on the most banged-up spots, please?” - a sheepish smile crept on your lips - “I thought about just mixing some cream with my lotion and rubbing it all over, but--”

He scoffed as if the idea personally offended him. “Jesus, please don’t. I’ll be right back.”

Your legs seemed to weigh a tonne, but also started to shake as though they were about to give in any moment, so you sat back on the edge of a bathtub with relief.

Neil came back after a while and muffled clanking suggested he brought a full medkit with him. You waited as he washed his hands thoroughly, and you stifled an amused giggle at the dedication, even though it was nothing more but common sense.

Neil’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’m gonna take a look at those wounds first, but for that, I need to touch you, is it okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you shrugged. “I imagine you can’t do plenty without that, huh?”

A light chuckle. “Fair enough.” And featherlike touches that followed.

Careful fingers examining every bruised inch of skin, starting from the freshly hurt shin, scraped knees, going up your thighs until they met the edge of the towel. Then, ghosting over your hands, unhurriedly moving up the forearms…

You realized your breath got shaky.

He tucked a still quite damp strand of hair behind your ear and his fingertips glided over your forehead and down your temple, traced your jawline up to your chin. His knuckles grazed your neck, then moved across your collarbones, but when they met the towel again, Neil hesitated.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” you joked playfully and untucked the corner of the towel, letting it slide down your body.

A sharp inhale and a slipped-out curse.

“Christ…” uttered Neil, and you were quite sure what he was referring to. Your hip pulsated with dull pain in the place where the oxygen container had been, or rather where it must have moved to during the escape, bruising the hip bone and surrounding area at the impact.

You forced a crooked smile to your face. “And here I was hoping it looked better than it felt.”

“I can always lie to you if you want,” he offered, aiming for a lighter tone.

Shaking your head, you nibbled on your bottom lip. Somehow, the sole thought of him lying to you seemed like a certain heartache.

“No.” Your voice sounded weak, but maybe that was understandable, given how powerless you felt overall. Or maybe you could stop being so pathetic any moment now.

You closed your eyes, and while you tried to parley with your brain to give you a break, Neil started meticulously treating your wounds, focused on not causing any more discomfort than it was needed. You switched all your attention to his ministrations, grimacing slightly from time to time as he was tending particularly sore spots. Neil’s warm fingers contrasted with the cold ointment, all the different sensations fought a merciless battle to take precedence over one another, making even more of a mess in your tired head.

You heard Neil shifting in front of you as he was about to move to your injured face. Acting on an impulse, you spread your legs to allow him to come closer, and so he did, positioning himself on his knees between your thighs without a word. Quite a concentration, you thought and smiled fondly to your memories of the times you’d seen him so committed to a task. Slightly furrowed brows, blonde strands falling into shining blue eyes, with a bottom lip tugged between the teeth...

A brief touch on your temple brought you back to reality and you gasped, reaching out to hold on to Neil to keep your balance. As you rested your hands on his sides, he gently cupped your face and continued with taking care of the bruises. It felt as if the warmth radiating from him was mending you whole, even more so when it got combined with tender, soothing brushes of Neil’s thumb against your cheek. You melted into his palm and exhaled slowly, dropping your shoulders and relaxing.

Before you could stop the words from spilling out, you said under your breath, “It was just a fall, I don’t know how it got that bad,” voicing the thought that’s been on your head all day.

Neil pulled back abruptly and the tranquil moment shattered like glass against the bathroom tiles.

“Are you being serious right now? Just a fall? You’re lucky you’re alive, goddamnit, let alone able to walk!” Disbelief mixed with anger in his tone, taking you aback. And to your surprise, it felt like yet another wound, inflicted right at your chest. “Y-you hit the wall before you crashed on the ground, you--” his voice broke and Neil sighed. You heard him packing the medkit, simply tossing things inside before he moved away.

“Oh,” was all you could say, reaching for the abandoned towel to wrap it over your shoulders, in a sudden and desperate need to cover yourself. In every way possible. “Remind me to tie a cat and a buttered slice of bread to myself the next time we do this.”

He didn’t respond to your poor attempt at lighting up the mood, instead, you heard the door handle, a deadpanned “I’ll heat up the food” and he was gone.

You had no idea where his reaction had come from. Normally, you’d have followed him straight away to confront him, but right then you felt so exhausted and helpless you just slouched in your spot, with your hands fisted on the towel, and sat like that for a while, leveling your breath. You mustered all the strength you had left, found your clothes and put them on. Then, you tied the blindfold, letting a piece of sleek material bring a shred of comfort and hide a pitiful glimmer in the corners of your eyes.

You joined Neil in the other room and sat at the table. He didn’t comment on your attire nor the choice of accessories, hell, he barely even spoke to you when he put the plate in front of you, as well as through the whole meal.

Even though you’d picked up your favourite comfort food on the way, it tasted bland, and with your stomach tied into a knot, you couldn’t force more than a few bites into your system. Judging by the sounds - or rather the lack thereof - coming from across the table, Neil’d lost his appetite too.

Finally, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence. “I think I’m full,” you said and stood up, grimacing slightly.

“I’ll do the dishes, go lie down,” he said quietly. “Please.”

As if he anticipated an argument. You really had no energy for that.

“Thank you. Are you--...” you stumbled on the question, but Neil chimed in.

“I’ll be on the couch.”

...maybe it was for the best.

You nodded and turned on your heel to fetch a spare pillow and a blanket while Neil was occupied with the dishes. The ever-growing headache was becoming unbearable, but you hoped that the sweet arms of Morpheus would bring a much-needed release soon. You brushed your teeth quickly and mumbling “‘night,” you disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door half open for god knows what reasons. Perhaps to make you feel less alone.

The plan of sleeping off the worst pain looked good on paper but proved to be too hard to execute. That bloody awful feeling of being tired beyond comprehension and still unable to doze off, right? You tossed and turned (although carefully), trying to find the most comfortable position. After a while, you took the blindfold off and curled on your side, staring into the nothingness again. Listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Forcing every breath through your clenched chest. Trying to focus on anything other than neverending soreness.

You heard Neil’s footsteps and how they stopped right at your door. Stalling.

And you didn’t even try pretending you were asleep. Waiting.

“Hey... I wanted to check if you need anything before I turn in for the night.”

The softness of his voice was tainted by something as if he was holding back. But you were so glad to hear it anyway.

“Actually,” you said, propping yourself on the elbow and wincing, “could you bring me one of those fancy painkillers, please? I thought I might do without for a little while but-- ...yeah, not quite.”

“Of course, coming right up.”

When Neil was back, you sat on the bed, allowing him to hand you a glass and ...a shot glass? You shook the latter slightly and something rattled inside.

“Ah, okay, smart,” you smiled with recognition. “Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me you thought it was vodka?”

A hint of amusement in his tone made you snort.

“I can’t say I would mind,” - shrugging, you swallowed the pill and washed it down with cool water - “but this is gonna be more efficient, I guess.”

You shifted in your spot to put down both glasses on a bedside table. Neil was there to make sure you actually placed them on top of it, pushing your forearm gently when you were about to create a mess.

That light touch brought a lump back to your throat. As if the awkward silence wasn’t suffocating you enough.

“If that’s all…” said Neil quietly, taking a step towards the door.

But you reached out into the darkness and found his hand.

“Neil…” you squeezed his fingers, desperately trying to convey words that eluded you. Your plea was barely a whisper. “...stay?”

The pulse pounded in your ears as the stillness that followed seemed to last forever.

Then, Neil squeezed your hand back.

“I will,” he choked out, and his thumb grazed over your knuckles. “Be right back.”

You nodded and let go of his hand, not even sure that he could see your gesture, then moved to the other side of the bed. The held-back breath escaped in a shudder as another wave of pain overrode your senses, leaving a trail of cold sweat down your spine.

A faint tock of the light switch in the other room, then footsteps and a pillow landing next to yours. Neil snuggled down, keeping his distance, and you curled again in your spot, hoping that his proximity will calm you down enough to fall asleep. But as you said your goodnights and Neil’s breath leveled and got deeper, you still waited on the pills to start working, getting more and more lost in your own head and thoughts you’d managed to keep lidded on until now.

Because if only you’d cracked that safe faster. Or maybe if you’d discussed that escape route beforehand, somebody would have found a better path through the roofs. No, scratch that, the plan was tight, and it was your goddamn fault that you’d gotten distracted by a sodding rain, of all things. And that jump? Bloody amateur hour. Should have seen that coming, stepped to the side, or caught onto anything. You’d been granted a second chance at that wall. But no, you’d had to panic like a bush-leaguer, as if it had been your first fall in your life. And now you were lying there, feeling sorry for yourself. Abso-fucking-lutely pathetic.

What if Madame Karma finally decided to make you pay? What if you were never going to get your sight back? A warm tear trickled down your face slowly. No more free runs and adrenaline rushes while taking shortcuts through the most obscure places. No more lying on the rooftops to observe how the sky changes colours through the night. No more sitting on the hill and watching how the sun reflected in the river. How it danced on that messy blonde hair. You would never see his blue eyes lighting up again--

Your chin trembled as the tears stained your pillow. It felt as if you were nothing but pain, fear, and heartbreak. Pressing your lips together, you stifled a sob that shook your body mercilessly. You were nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

You wanted to brush it off, to tell him you were okay and he could go back to sleep. But instead, you sniffled and whimpered, unable to pass any word through your tightened throat.

Neil gasped and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, come here,” he said softly as his fingers pressed lightly onto your back, urging you to move and you shifted into his embrace, clenching your fists on his t-shirt, struggling for every breath. “I’ve got you, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed, wrapping the arms around you gingerly. A much-needed reassurance whispered over and over again like a plea to anyone who could be listening.

Weeping quietly into Neil’s chest, you sought refuge in his closeness, clinging onto him as he held you and stroked your hair, waiting for the worst to pass. Soon, you ran out of tears, and there were just sobs, convulsing you whole like a heart-wrenching hiccup. Neil hugged you a little tighter, placed a small kiss on top of your head, and started humming, a melody barely more than a murmur. It felt familiar, but why?

By and by, the song and a steady heartbeat against your cheek weaved together and calmed your racing mind. Enough to finally let you drift off, with Neil’s soothing voice and warmth enveloping you, bringing comfort and hope for a better tomorrow.

-----

You should have known better than to expect something to be different when you woke up. Swallowing down the disappointment and resignation, you dug yourself up from under the covers. The pain dialed down, but was very much there, especially during sudden moves.

Maybe you would feel better if you washed your face, still a bit puffed after all that--

…oh shit.

Your brain halted, torn between making you cringe and spreading the warmth through your chest. If you were to survive the day, the key was not to think about what happened last night. At least you didn’t have to look him in the eyes, huh? Armed with a smile, albeit a bit sour, you grabbed some clothes on your way out and ventured into the quiet living room.

“Neil?”

For a split second you were sure he was gone, but--

“Over here.” Judging by the sound of it, here was somewhere near the couch. “How are you feeling?”

Concern. Obviously. He’d seen you at your worst, so there was no point in hiding your state.

“Like I’ve spent some time inside a cement mixer,” you sighed. “But better, thanks. What time is it?”

“Almost 3 o’clock.” A faint thud of a book being put down. “Are you hungry? I was about to fix something.”

It was a good moment for your insides to growl in confirmation, but at least this time your body decided to spare you. Although your stomach was pretty much cleaving to your backbone, all right.

“Oh yes, please.” You smiled with appreciation and raised a hand with a bundle of clothes. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

That minute took a little longer, as your mobility was still pretty lacking, but fresh as a (beaten-up) daisy, in a comfortable outfit and a blindfold, you followed your nose to the kitchenette.

“Smells delicious.”

A soft chuckle came through the sizzling. “Hope it tastes good as well, wanna try?” When you nodded, you heard Neil walking up to you. “Open your mouth, careful - it’s hot.”

You recognized the rich flavor as some variation of the Napoli sauce, perfectly balanced, and you could only hum in approval. Where the hell had he gotten those herbs from?

“It’s amazing,” you said, but couldn’t resist a little smirk, “or I’m just starving.”

Neil scoffed lightly. “Might be that.” There was a smile and a hint of pride in his tone, and it made you beam a little wider. “Come sit down.”

When you did, and a bowl of pasta landed in front of you on the table, your mind involuntarily went back to last evening. That tension. Sudden distance. Everything after that. What was worse, it seemed like you weren’t the only one thinking about it, because the silence that fell between you now grew heavy with unresolved issues lingering in the air.

But maybe you were misreading the room and you were fine.

“Listen, about yesterday--”

...or not.

Instead of letting Neil finish, you panicked, and before you could stop yourself, you used his moment of hesitation to blurt out, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I was exhausted and everything hurt and--” you frowned and hid the face in your palm. The shame felt like a tightening ring around your chest, making it hard to breathe. ”I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Wait, what?” huffed Neil, his voice filled with consternation. ”Jesus, no, that’s not what I meant, I--” he faltered and groaned, then added more softly, “Why are you even apologizing for that?” And when you shook your head, unable to find the right words, Neil gently touched your arm, rubbing it up and down slowly. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

Your heart clenched with fondness as you palmed over his hand.

“Thank you for being there for me.”

A twist of the wrist and a light squeeze on your fingers.

“Of course.”

Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After a moment, you asked quietly, “If it isn’t about that, then what?”

A loud buzz cut through the air, the unexpected noise almost making you jump in your seat. Impeccable timing.

Neil picked the vibrating phone from the table. “It’s work, I have to get that.” His hand was still holding yours, reluctant to let go. “If I’m not done by the time you finish eating, two words: bed rest.”

“May I make it a couch rest, doc?” you grinned, and by the resigned sigh you could tell Neil definitely rolled his eyes at you.

“Just make yourself comfy and horizontal, all right?” A final brush of his thumb against your fingers and he was up, walking off from the table. “Hi, what’s up?”

Whatever they needed him for, it took so much time that you finished your meal and obediently moved to the couch. That unfinished talk left you anxious enough to nervously pick at the edge of the blanket, but as Neil was still lost in a hushed conversation, and the aforementioned blanket was way too cosy, you slowly drifted off into a dreamless nap.

You weren’t sure what woke you up - a shift on the other side of the couch, or a heavy sigh, one of those signaling the weight of the whole world on somebody’s shoulders. Hearing the latter was enough to wipe the remains of sleep from your system and you sat up, grunting slightly.

“What is it?”

Another sigh.

“I’m an idiot.”

You puffed your cheeks and shrugged, a corner of your mouth twitching in a nervous smile.

“Before I let out a purposeful no and kick you - why are you saying that?” Silence. “...Neil?” When the answer was not coming for too long, you moved to your knees, reaching out until you touched his shoulder. No reaction. Trying to keep a rising worry at bay, you urged him quietly, “Talk to me, please.”

Neil inhaled slowly and he finally spoke, his voice barely there.

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” you asked, knitting your brows together as you brushed your hand down his arm only to find his clenched fist, tightening even further under your touch.

“For yesterday, for letting it out on you, when you were just--” he paused to swallow audibly, and then continued, blurting out one strained word after another, “and all of that while this whole mess is my goddamn fault because if I hadn’t hesitated out there, we both would have made it in time--”

“No, no, no, you can’t do that to yourself,” you said, crawling into his lap and nestling between his legs, wrapping yours around his waist. “It was a perfectly normal reaction.” The pulse thumped in your ears when you placed one hand on Neil’s chest and the other one travelled up along his neck to cup his face. Then your thumb glided over a wet trail on his cheek and it felt as if your heart shattered into a million pieces. Oh please, no. “My darling...” you whispered, but it was as if Neil barely acknowledged you were there, trembling and lost.

He pressed his forehead to yours and continued, traces of dread ringing in his hollow tone more and more with every choked-out sentence.

“When I turned back and I saw that--….at first, I thought you’d been shot, then you fell and-- suddenly all I could think was if your oxygen container was intact, or--... I called the Cavalry on the way down but I was so scared I was too late, I thought--” his voice broke and you felt him frowning as he shuddered, struggling to carry on. “I thought that you were gone, and I didn’t--”

His heart raced under your palm while you kept stroking his cheek, consoling him softly, “Neil, I’m here, it’s all right, I’m here.” But when that didn’t seem like enough to bring him back to you, you reached to his neck to pull him closer and kissed him, desperate to make him stop spiralling down. To make him stop hurting.

A muffled whine against your lips. But then you felt him melt and he kissed you back, still helpless, wrapping his arms around you carefully as if he expected you to fall apart under his touch. Not quite there. You deepened the kiss purposefully, burying your hands in his hair, tugging at the strands as you pressed yourself to him as much as you could in your position. You didn’t care about your own pain or discomfort. If any of you were meant to be lost in any way, it might as well be this. Neil gasped and lifted you up so you properly straddled him, then tightened the embrace, clinging on to you for dear life as he captured you in another kiss, and this time it was his turn to try to convey the unbearable mixture of despair, relief, and immense longing. All of that poured into this simple act of devotion until there was nothing but pure need. To touch and to be touched. To hold and to be held. To be close. To be wanted. To be found.

A breathless moan escaped your mouth and Neil pulled back ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, his fingertips gliding over your features.

Oh, how much you missed looking into his eyes.

The fact that he cared, without simply going ahead with it, made your chest clench with fondness. At this point, you trusted him beyond reason, although it was still nice to hear it.

“I’m not made of glass,” you huffed, nuzzling his nose.

A low hum and a trail of kisses along your jawline. You shivered when his lips reached a spot just below your ear and then smiled against your skin.

“Are you sure?” his husky voice was playful, but you knew he was double-checking.

“Try me.”

That moment was not about chasing the high. It was about feeling each other. Being with one another. As close as possible. That couldn’t wait, and neither could any of you, tugging at the clothes in random order with urgency.

Neil looped his arm around your shoulders, settling you on your side in his embrace. Keeping you steady. Safe. Close. And even though his kisses were desperate and leaving you winded, his touch was gentle, and you knew the blue eyes were watching you attentively, ready to react to the smallest sign of discomfort. But also to any encouragement to go further.

A hitched breath. A leg hooked on his hip. Fingers dragged across his back.

He was ready to give you everything and take whatever you were willing to offer. And you wanted to do the same for him until everything else lost its meaning and it was just you and him, and the fire that burned inside you. Searing every nerve. Cleansing the doubts. Numbing the pain. Lighting up the darkness. And, in the end, bringing resolution as you both came undone, moaning and gasping for air only to be comforted by hands cupping cheeks and yet another kiss. Slow. Tender. Full of admiration.

When Neil drew back and shifted slightly, you whined in protest, wrapping your leg around him tighter to keep him in place.

“Where are you going?”

A quiet chuckle, followed by a feeling of a soft blanket sliding over your naked body. And a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You sighed with content as Neil pulled you closer again. The light stubble scratched your fingers as they studied the impossible angles of his face unhurriedly.

“Good.”

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #long nights

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