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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

heyyyyy, can you do harry imagine where when they fight with the death eaters fem reader rescues sirius from bellatrix because she know he is the only relative harry has and gets hurt, so in the hospital harry visits her and thanks her and she tells him that she loves her? like lots of fluff😻

To Be Lovable || Harry Potter

Word Count: 4069

A/N: Hey love, I hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write.

Warnings: mentions of a broken bone, let’s just pretend that Sirius’ name has already been cleared, obviously not canon, I believe that that is it.

Masterlist

Life had fucked Harry Potter over, that was for sure. It basically said “fuck you” and gave him the responsibility of saving muggle and wizardkind alike. Robbed him of a family, of a childhood, of any semblance of the confidence he so desperately needed.

But life always outs. Life will always find a way to straighten itself out, even the scales. Life had given Harry Sirius Black, so it was doing a pretty good job so far. Just as life had fucked Harry Potter, it’d fucked Sirius Black too.

When life gave them each other it slowly started mending its wrong doings with Sirius’ false imprisonment, Harry’s lack of a father figure, their shared lack of affection of any sort. In Harry Sirius had found a friend, a son and in Sirius, Harry had found a father, someone to care.

You had spent the last five years watching Harry suffer trial after trial all while you suffered a trial of your own, the trial of loving him from afar. As much as you adored Harry, and you really did, how could you not? From the blush that painted his cheeks at the slightest compliment, to the way his glasses sat crooked on his nose, to the messy black mop of hair that sat upon his head the boy was completely and utterly loveable. But it was because of the love you harbored for the boy that you refused to confess your feelings to him, he had more than enough on his plate. The Boy Who Lived most definitely had better things to do with his time than deal with the feelings of a hormonal teenager. Perhaps that was life’s way of fucking with you, making you love a boy who didn’t have it within him to love you back.

Life didn’t get to fuck with Harry Potter anymore, he’d done more than his fair share of suffering, of grieving, he’d more than served a punishment he’d never earned. That’s all you could think about as you saw Bellatrix point her wand at Sirius’ form, laughing maniacally as a jet of green light shot from the tip of her wand, aimed directly at Sirius.

Head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge the curse leaving you with no other option but to full on tackle him. You threw your body at him, aiming to take him down at the knees but failing rather miserably instead wrapping your arms around his chest and instead of knocking him to the ground, making him stumble backward.

Regardless, on the floor, or a few inches to the right, you still managed to knock him out of the curse’s path. Sirius hadn’t realized who was on top of him or that their intentions were good rather than evil, in the heat of the moment, with curses flying to and fro you were flung from his body as he knocked you onto the floor.

As you landed on your side, your arm trapped beneath you, you heard the distinct, sickening snap of what couldn't have been anything other than bone. The sound rang through the din in the room, impossible to miss but yet no one seemed to offer you so much as a glance, anyone except Sirius that was.

“Shit” He swore, bending down to access the damage, gently turning you on to your back so that he could get a better look at your arm, “I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s fine Sirius,” You slurred, not daring to look at your arm, the pain you were feeling was enough, you were more than fine without visuals to match. Having never broken a bone before you were not ready for the immense pain that festered in your arm, sharp and stabbing it felt like every single nerve in your arm was being bludgeoned over and over again, mercy be damned.

“You’re slurring your words (Y/N),” Sirius scolded, not angry at you but rather at himself, “You’re not okay and it’s not fine. Now did you hit your head too?”

You thought for a moment, had you hit your head?

Yes, you remembered the thump of your skull against the hard stone of the room hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries, and the more you thought about it, the more clearly you could feel that the dull thrum of pain was still present where the initial impact had occurred.

“Y-yeah,” You stuttered out, your vision blurring as the man kneeling above you started to fade, “I think so, it hurts.” Black spots began to dance through your vision, the cacophony of noise in the room became a low buzz as the sound of your blood rushing through your veins overwhelmed you. It became the only thing you could hear.

You heard the faint noise of Sirius letting out a slew of curses, not all of which seemed to be in English as his hands moved to your scalp, gently pressing down until a sharp pain coursed through you.

“Fuck,” Someone, swore, him or you, you weren’t sure. It was very possible it had been either of you as Sirius pulled his hand away from your head and back into your visage. His middle three fingers were soaked in blood, your blood. Crimson and dripping from his digits the metallic scent flooded your nostrils making you work not to gag as you found the stench to be truly nauseating.

He spoke again, or at least you thought he did as you could faintly make out the whisper of his voice and the moving of his lips.

Faintly you wondered if you heard the familiar voice of a certain bespectacled boy, frantic as he approached you, and the glimpse of dark, messy hair you caught almost convinced you of such. But as more and more blackness took over your vision it became harder and harder to tell until you were completely swallowed, and your eyes blinked closed into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“She’s not exactly asleep,” Someone was talking.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t awake,” There was someone in the room.

“If you’d let me finish Mr. Weasley-”

“Oh shut up,” This voice was new, deeper than either of the previous ones, its posh accent distinctly different than the other two, “No need to condescend the boy just tell us if (Y/N)’s going to be alright. Harry’s going to want to know when he finishes his business with Dumbledore.”

Harry? Was Harry alright? Stupid question, if precedent was anything to go on, he probably wasn’t.

At the mention of his name you felt a wave of energy surge through you, it was only with that energy you were able to blink your eyes open. They desperately wanted to close as the harsh white light of the room flooded your irises but you refused to let them, instead squinting so that the light entering your vision was limited.

“As I was saying,” The first voice continued, “She’s in a medically induced coma, this isn’t a restful sleep this is because she can’t afford to be conscious right now and when she wakes up she’s going to be in a whole world of pain and having the six of you here isn’t going to help her.”

No one seemed to notice your new state of consciousness as they continued their conversation, voices tense with worry as they batted back and forth in a game of verbal racketball, a question met by an answer which was countered by another question.

You were too out of it to take offense to their neglect as you felt that surge of energy start to slip away from you, like sand through your fingertips. Grasping onto the last whispers of it before it drifted away from you entirely you cleared your throat, the sound minuscule but apparently just loud enough to catch the attention of a certain red headed girl.

“(Y/N),” This voice was unmistakable Ginny. You turned your head to face the source of her voice, met by the blurry outline of unmistakable Weasley red, they really should just patent it at this point, hair surrounding a pale face. “(Y/N) you’re awake!” She lunged towards you gripping your arm in her hand, albeit a little painfully, but all pain, and sound, and sight seemed fuzzy, like remembering a dream from the night prior.

At Ginny’s words, all heads in the room snapped to your form where you laid in the hospital bed, looking as though you’d seen better days. Which granted, you had.

It took a second for them all to register the meaning behind what Ginny had announced, but as soon as they did they went into a flurry, a healer rushing to take your vitals, moving her wand up and down your body, muttering incantations under her breath. Molly was at your side, gazing at you with brown eyes swimming with worry as she ran a hand down the side of your face which was still lolled to the side. Two identical boys stood at the foot of your bed while two girls, the previously spoken of redhead and her curly haired friend stood back, giving the Healers space to move about.

Sirius stood over Molly’s shoulder, his eyes drowning in guilt as he failed to return your gaze.

“Where am I?” Godric you sounded awful, and it felt like there was gravel in your throat, irritating you even as you merely swallowed.

“St. Mungo’s darling,” Molly answered promptly, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle, “You were hurt at the Department of Mysteries.”

You remembered, oh you undoubtedly remembered. The ache in your arm and head was more than enough to remind you of what had occurred, it was reinforced by the dark haired man looming in the corner refusing to meet your eyes.

After a good deal of fussing both by the Healers and Molly people finally started to stream out of your room, first Ginny and Hermione, followed by the twins and finally the Healers and Molly.

That left just you and Sirius, who still refused to meet your eyes, in the small room which smelt of dittany and blood.

It was silent for a minute, then two, before you simply couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t going to say something you would, “S’not your fault Sirius,” Your voice was still rather hoarse but it had improved significantly after downing the three cups of water than had been placed in front of you.

“You were just trying to save me, you did save me and now you’re hurt.” His head which had previously been hung raised to finally meet your eyes, the shame he carried in his eyes was palpable, remorse etched into his face. A face which reflected every year he’d lived on this planet and then some.

“M’gonna be fine Sirius, you didn’t know it was me I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You shook your head lightly to refocus your eyes but that just amplified the pain already pounding in your skull.

Reluctantly Sirius trudged towards you before pulling a chair up to your bed and eventually resting himself in it, not looking at your face but rather at the foot of the bed. “Why’d you do it (Y/N)? Why’d you go to all that trouble to save an old man like me?” There was none of his usual humor in his voice, only a sorrowful curiosity.

“You’re all he has left Sirius,” This drew his attention, craning his neck to look at you, his eyes, accompanied by his continued silence urged you on, “You can’t die on him because then he’ll have no one.”

For the first time since you’d tackled him in the Department on Mysteries however long ago, Sirius Black smiled. Unlike his usual smirks or grins, the one that graced his face was gentle, and perhaps a bit hopeful as well.

“Not so sure about that love,” He let out a laugh so light it was barely a laugh, more like a puff of air, “He’d still have you, wouldn’t he?”

You willed yourself not to give away your true feelings for Harry to his godfather of all people, but the nervous grin that adorned your face was a dead give away to his already good guess.

“He cares about you (Y/N),” Sirius was merciful, sparing you from verbalizing the feelings that the both of you now acknowledged existed, “We had to drag him away from you at the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was Harry?” You perked up, “I didn’t just imagine him?”

“Nope,” He replied, popping his p, “He almost punched Moony when tried to drag him away from you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that you simply didn’t.

“He had to meet with Dumbledore to discuss something, that’s why he wasn’t here when you woke up,” Sirius explained.

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure he has much better things to do than come visit-”

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of feet thumping down the hallway outside your room. Both you and Sirius turned your heads to watch someone fly by the cracked door of the room, his voice booming as he called out for you, then Ron, then Hermione.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to be a little quieter,” The stern but kind voice drifted into the room from the hallway.

“Where is she?” Yup, that has Harry. The sound of his voice was ingrained in your head and had been for countless years now.

You and Sirius stayed silent, still watching the door, listening to the tense conversation taking place between Harry and the St. Mungo’s staff member before you heard Hermione’s voice cut in, trying to calm the two men down.

“Well it sounds like he’s going to be in here soon,” Sirius said, standing up from his chair, gazing down at you.

“It does,” You agreed.

“I will never be able to thank you enough (Y/N), not only for saving my life today but for being such a good friend to Harry, giving him the love that he deserves.” Tears brimmed at the raven haired man’s eyes as he laid his palm atop your hand.

“Of course Sirius,” Your voice cracked mid sentence as you too were gulping down tears.

Leaning down Sirius pressed a fatherly kiss to the crown of your head just as Harry burst through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” The older chuckled, pulling back to his full height as Harry bounded towards you, completely ignoring the presence of his godfather.

“(Y/N)!” His long legs got him to you in no time at all, when he reached you his eyes snagged on your broken arm before meeting your own.

Sirius sent you a silent wink as he slipped from the room, you hadn’t noticed him even make his way towards the door. He made sure to shut the door tightly behind him so that you and Harry would be granted some privacy.

“Hi Harry,” You let out a watery chuckle as you took in his appearance, he looked like he’d gotten caught in a wind tunnel with his hair all messy, and the fabric of his tight fitting t-shirt clinging to his chest.

“Don’t laugh,” He frowned down at you as he settled himself next to you on the bed, “You might hurt your lung or something.”

You smiled at his clueless, over protective behavior, “S’not my lungs that are hurt H, just my arm and my head.”

“There’s nothing just about it,” He countered, “You’d be fine without your arm but you need your head (Y/N/N), can’t go walking around without it.”

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t get the chance before he started talking again, pushing himself off up the flimsy mattress to pace next to your bed, “What the hell were you thinking jumping on Sirius like that?”

You rolled your eyes at his outburst, “Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse at him, Harry, he was going to die if I didn’t do something!” Your voice raised against your will as you got defensive, you may have loved Harry but that didn’t stop you from getting aggravated with him when he was being an idiot. Take now for example.

“You could’ve died (Y/N)! Don’t you understand that? You could’ve died and I-”

“But I didn’t Harry! I didn’t die and I’m fine now.”

“The hell you are! You’re lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s with a broken arm and a concussion, if that's your definition of fine then I’d hate to see what not fine is!”

“I’m a big girl Potter, I can take care of myself,” You argued, pushing yourself up on the bed so that you were sitting upright, independent of your pillows. How was he being so daft? You’d saved the closest person he had to real family and now here he was, completely railing on you.

He was so caught up in his own head, continuing to pace up and down the length of the room that he didn’t seem to notice when you started swaying, no doubt because you had lifted yourself up too quickly and your head should’ve been resting on your pillow.

“You may be a big girl (Y/N), but clearly you shouldn’t be left to your own devices because what would possess someone to do something so idiotic?”

You tried to swallow the anger you felt bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to explode in an eruption of words you weren’t quite ready to say out loud. But as he went on and on you found it harder and harder to swallow your feelings until they inevitably bubbled over.

“You idiot,” You cut him off, too fed up with him to listen to what he had to say, “I wasn’t going to let Sirius die because he’s the only family you have Harry! You love him and it would kill me to see him ripped from you, just like so many other good things have been ripped from you, because…”

You went silent, all of a sudden your voice seemed very loud in the sterile room and you realized it’s because he finally shut up.

“Because why?” He asked turning so that he was facing you, “Because why?”

“Because I-” You felt a rush of heat flooded your face and quickly averted your gaze from the boy, focusing instead on the clock hung on the wall opposite your bed.

You were quiet for a moment, hoping he would show you mercy and continue on with his ranting but he didn’t. Harry never did stand down from a fight, especially not one that he could win.

Coming to terms with the fact that the only way this was ending was with a confession from you, you gulped. And with your saliva you swallowed your pride, turning back to face the boy who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Because I love you, okay?” You admitted to him, letting your vision glaze over so you wouldn’t have to see the eventual look of guilt wash over his features before he gently turned you down, apologizing, calling you beautiful, telling you how you deserved someone better. Even though there was no one better than him.

You thought he looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at you, unblinking.

Eventually, after what could’ve been a couple of seconds or could’ve been a couple of hours, he spoke, “Y-you love me?” He sounded incredulous like he didn’t really believe you.

And that’s when it hit you, he didn’t really believe you.

As a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over you, at the notion that the beautiful boy in front of you really had no clue just how beautiful he was, you maneuvered yourself so that you could stand up, throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

Pushing yourself up into an upright position you were immediately swaying, ready to collapse onto the floor, and Harry must’ve observed that as he came back to his senses as he looped his arms under yours, pulling you into his toned chest, hard from countless hours of Quidditch practice.

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N/N)?” His voice was softer now, meant for only you to hear.

“Was gonna show you how much I love you,” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt as you abandoned all of your inhibitions, you needed to tell him how you felt, “You clearly don’t believe me when I tell you and that’s ridiculous Haz because you’re lovely and wonderful and you light up my day every time I see you. I can’t imagine my life without you,” You paused your ramble, not noticing the brilliant shade of vermillion his face had turned.

“No, I can imagine it without you Harry and it’s horrible, it’s not a life worth living.”

“Don’t say that (Y/N),” He cut you off, a frown gracing his enviably red lips.

“Would you let me finish Potter?” You sniped playfully, “I love you, Harry, I’ve loved you since we were first years and it kills me that you don’t see how lovable you are. Because you are lovable Harry,” You pulled back a bit to rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, “You are completely lovable, and that’s why I put myself in harm’s way today, because if it meant saving someone you love, then it is worth it. It will always be worth it.”

You watched as tears spilled down his cheeks, but you could tell by the smile pulling at his wobbling lips that they were happy tears, “Y-you love me?”

How your heart could break at three simple words baffled you but it did, “I love you, Harry, I have loved you and I will always love you.”

A smile overtaking his entire face split it in half, a toothy grin you’d like to see on him more often, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back H, the fact you’re not turning me down right now is more than enough. You don’t have to say it back, we can take it slow,” You cut him off, not wanting to rush him.

“I want to though, I want to say it back.” He insisted, sounding like an eager puppy.

“Really?” You couldn’t suppress the optimistic lilt to your voice.

He nodded surely, still grinning down at you. “I love you (Y/N).”

You had to stop yourself from crying, or screaming, or jumping in the air, or some combination of all three, but that’s all you wanted to do. You wanted to scream and jump and cry but you preferred being in Harry’s arms much more.

“May I kiss you?” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper you could barely hear.

“Yes please,” You giggled, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down to capture your lips in his.

You poured all the passion of the past five years into that kiss, all of the stolen glances at him, all of the nights spent sobbing, thinking that he could never love you back. All of the sacrifices, all of the hugs, and the smiles you shared. They were all poured into the kiss and they all meant so much more now because being part of something so beautiful could only make those memories better.

Harry wrapped his arms around your back, pressing your body to his while being careful to mind your hurt arm. You dug the fingers on the hand of your healthy arm in his thick hair, using it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him.

You pulled away first, taking big gulps of air in an attempt to refill your empty lungs.

“You love me,” Harry stated simply, staring down at you adoringly.

“I love you,” You agreed with a small nod of your head.

“I can’t believe you actually love me.” He smiled again, this grin even goofier than the last, making his emerald eyes shine.

You smiled at the look of childlike happiness that adorned his face, “And I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst

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markosmate · 3 years

Text

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au:// Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy.

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly.

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom.

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Aaaaa this is a fic request, where kondraki is with an s/o where they are a normal civilian and is completely oblivious to whatever is going on, until she got curious and snooped around, found out about the foundation and confronted kondraki about it, now he has too make her forget and give her anesthetics and it might lead to some really good angst >:)

‘With All My Love, Kondraki.’

[Dr. Kondraki X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, angst]

[AN: it's 4.1K words. lots of love and the pacing is weird]

When you first met Benjamin Kondraki, you had never been so confused on how a peach so sweet could be related to a lemon so sour.

“Miss Reader, Miss Reader!” The buzzling little boy at the dining room table began to prod. He jumps excitedly, almost spilling his orange juice as one of his mothers packs her bag up, getting ready for her long work day. She continues to move, currently looking for things she may need when her front door opens, revealing a woman dressed appropriately for the warm summer day.

“Hi Mrs. Wei,” you greet, kicking your shoes off at the door, and placing the keys back into your bag. You notice she’s searching - probably for her car keys.

The black haired woman looks up from her current task and beams. “Reader! I’m so glad you could make it. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” she says as she briefly waves at you. “Nia originally had the day off but something went wrong at the lab and she has to go in, and I have to be at the salon today-”

You smile and wave her off, reaching over on the sofa for her car keys. You cross the distance and hold the keys out to her. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t miss spending time with this special little guy for the world,” you chuckle, looking over to the happy little boy as he scarfs up his breakfast. Looks like today was waffles.

Mrs. Wei takes her keys and heads over to her son, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. “You be good for Miss Reader, okay?” She reminds him with a small smile as he happily gazes up at her. “Again, thank you for coming on short notice.”

You wave her off with a small chuckle. “It’s nothing. Have a good day at work.”

Mrs. Wei opens the front door of her house, once again waving to her son before nodding at you. “Nia will text you when she’s coming home. You two have fun,” she says, the door closing after her with a soft click.

Shortly after that as you sit down at the table with Markl, you hear her car come to life and peel out of the driveway. Your attention is now on this special little boy. “So, are you ready for a fun day?” You inquire, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice.

Markl nods, his dark eyes shimmering in the light. “Super ready!” He exclaims with a wide smile.

You can’t help but giggle. “What do you wanna do today?” You hum. “We could go to the beach, or the mall-”

“I wanna go to the park,” he interjects in a way that only five year olds can. “There’s a boy I’m really good friends with and I want to see him again.” Markl begins to rattle off, excitedly telling you about all his adventures only pausing to finish up his food or drink some more orange juice. He’s beaming.

You listen to him with such a large smile, every now and then reminding him to finish. When he’s done, it’s barely 10 in the morning. Markl wanted to watch some TV and then get dressed and ready for the park. He’s a big boy, so you trusted him to get ready by himself without your help - and he’s developing a quick sense of style. Right now, tiaras and t-rexes are all the rage.

In the meantime, you check the weather. Looks like today is going to be a really nice day. “Hey, Markl?”

“Yeah?”

“Which park are we going to in order to see your friend?”

“The one with the really big rocketship,” he calls out.

You hum. Okay, that’s the one by the beach. “Sweetie, you want me to pack a beach bag? Planning on going in the water?”

A slight pause before you can hear the little boy go ‘uh-huh!’

You turn off the TV and begin to pack, quickly moving through some of the rooms for some beach things. Luckily, you already have some of your own beach things in your car. Markl finally comes down the stairs right when you finish packing and you see he’s got a dinosaur swim top on, some shorts, and his favorite flip flops paired with a plastic tiara he won on the last day of school. “Lookin’ good,” you compliment as you glance over the house, once again fishing around for your keys.

Markl beams and hops down the stairs to be at your side. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” you answer, opening the front door.

Markl practically hops out of your car once you make it to the beach side park. You have to tell him to hold his horses and he pouts for a moment because apparently, his friend is waiting for him. You lean in the backseat and get out the beach bag. “Okay, okay, we can go now,” you say as you sling it over your shoulder. It’s warm, almost impossibly warm. Thank goodness you’re by the sea.

You watch as Markl speeds off towards the giant rocketship, kicking up sand as he does so. He’s calling out for another little boy - “Draven? Where are you?” He calls out.

You watch with curiosity as Markl runs about the playground, moving past the other kids. You tilt your head slightly and take a seat on the bench, watching as Markl runs around.

“There you are!” He finally cries out happily, running up and smacking into another boy similar in height. He’s got curly black hair, much like Markl, but much lighter skin. They instantly wrap arms around each other before running off to play on the giant rocketship.

Smiling, you pull out a book from your bag and begin to read, listening every now and then to the boys as they play. You’re glad Markl has a friend.

The warm summer day begins to tick by and around noon, you hear small steps padding up against the sand to come see you.

“Miss Reader,” Markl starts, peering over your book. “Can we go play in the water?” He asks, eyes akin to that of a puppy.

You bookmark your page and nod before pausing. “Oh, what about Draven? Does his mom say it’s okay?” You ask, not wanting to run off with some other person’s kid.

Markl and Draven share a look at each other before pulling at you. “Let’s go ask!”

You raise your brows and hurriedly get your things together, crossing the sandy playground to the other side where some man sits. He’s got dark black hair, slightly curled, and looks exhausted.

“Daddy, daddy!” Draven calls out, happily bounding up to the man you now recognize as his father. “Can I go play in the water?”

The man raises a brow, looking at his son and the boy he recognizes as his son’s friend. “She gonna be watching you?”

You bristle slightly. ‘She’? You press your lips into a tight line. “You do realize I have a name, right?” You say, resting your hands on your hips.

The man blinks, a huff escaping his lips. “Apologies.” It’s said in such a hollow tone. “I’m Benjamin Kondraki, most people call me by my last name.” He holds his hand out to you.

You narrow your eyes and center yourself. “Reader, Reader Last,” you reply, taking his hand. You put on a smile and then let him go. “I’ll watch Draven,” you say.”

“Don’t you wanna go in the water with them?”

You blink. “I guess?” It was an awfully hot day. Maybe he has a point.

“And you can’t do that while you’re holding all of these things, right?”

You nod.

Kondraki stands up, stretching his limbs before he ruffles his son’s hair, and then Markl’s who laughs loudly and joyously. “I’ll take a seat on the beach, watch your stuff.”

You spent the rest of the day swimming with the two boys, tossing them into the water and playing with them. Markl was happy you were able to play, and Draven was just pleased he was able to go in the water. Normally, Kondraki didn’t let him go in! At one point, Kondraki became the judge over a sandcastle contest between the three of you and Markl ended up winning!

“You did put in good effort,” he said, a sly grin on his lips as you flicked the water droplets off your hand at him. He laughed.

Draven and Markl hugged each other tight, trying hard to spend more time with each other when it’s time to go. Both you and Kondraki struggled to get the boys apart from each other. But, sleepiness from a long day affects even the strongest of bonds and the two were peeled away once the yawning commenced.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you say over your shoulder as Kondraki rests a tired Draven in his arms.

“Sure,” he hummed. “Have a nice evening.”

You warmly smile, almost displeased he’s not returning the gesture.

What an odd man.

Shortly after coming back to Markl’s place, Nia had texted she’d be home soon and right when you were cuddling with Markl on the couch to a fun movie (he’d insisted on watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron).

“You two look like you’ve had an eventful day,” she smiles, kicking off her shoes and getting ready to relax in her home. She brushes her fingers upwards and takes out the hair tie, letting her braids fall down her back.

“We did,” you say as Nia sits down on the couch next to her son, her gentle arms taking him into her arms. “Met Draven’s dad.”

“Konny?” Nia perks up. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “He is? But he’s such a d-”

Nia laughs, her smile widening. “I know,” she giggles. She brushes her fingers through Markl’s hair. “He’s not a bag guy, promise.”

You roll your eyes and relax against the couch. “Sure.”

Nia only snickers in response.

The next time you see Kondraki is at Markl’s birthday party. And it’s safe to say that this time, you and Kondraki got along just fine. There were a few shifty glances thrown, but ultimately? Ultimately, the two of you sat at the table, had some cake, and poked fun at certain things. He made you laugh, and seeing him with Draven made you admittedly more friendly than you were expecting to be.

“Y’know, you’re not too bad,” you say, a small smile on your lips.

Kondraki chuckles under his breath as he hands you another glass of iced tea. “Should I be offended?” He jokes.

You lightly slap his shoulder and take the tea from him, sipping at it slowly. “Are you a dick to everyone you meet?”

Kondraki laughs this time, it bubbles up from his throat and exits like bubbles. His eyes crinkle slightly. “When am I not like that?” He grins.

“For work?” You hum, eyes shifting to Markl and Draven running around the backyard with other kids. You fail to notice how Kondraki freezes, a slight fear washing over his system before he clears his throat.

“Yeah, for work,” he says, attempting to keep up the light tone.

You sigh slightly in response, that same smile on your lips as you look back over to him. “I get it,” you say. “I can be a bit of a witch too.”

Kondraki playfully rolls his eyes. “Sure, like you have a mean bone in your body.” He takes a long sip at his drink.

“Could always change that if you leant me yours,” you absentmindedly say, not even realizing the implications until Kondraki practically chokes. A heat rises over your cheeks as Kondraki struggles to compose himself. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” He laughs, practically doubled over as your face heats up even more.

You pout and cross your arms over your chest, heart beating like a drum. You rake \your fingers across your face and take in a deep breath.

Kondraki grins wildly as he comes back up, brushing his fingers through his hair, his emerald colored eyes shining in the remaining sunlight. “So, what are you doing next Friday?”

You’ve been dating the man for three years now. A simple Friday date turned into another, and then another, and after that, it was breaking the news to Draven who was more than excited to have you in his life. Now? Now you’re about to make the biggest step in your relationship so far.

“And you’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Kondraki asks as he rests his arm over your shoulders, looking at your cleared out apartment save for the plethora of brown boxes that litter the room. It looks so empty, and the echoes of both your voices is the clearest reminder. “Because like, I don’t want to force you into-”

You turn your head to the side and press your lips warmly to the corner of Kondraki’s mouth, making him melt into the simple touch. “We’re gonna be just fine,” you begin. “I am going to be just fine. You’ve been asking me this question ever since you first proposed that I move in with you,” you tease as Kondraki shifts, his hands resting warmly on your waist. Your fingers reach up to thread through his dark locks, eyes getting lost in his. “I hate being apart from you,” you murmur into his chest.

Kondraki hums warmly, his lips pressing to the crown of your head as he swats the two of you. “I know, I know,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed or like I’m forcing you, y’know?” He attempts to explain as he averts his gaze for a moment.

You furrow your brows and flash him a knowing smile. “You don’t need to worry about me like you did-” her “it’s nothing. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” you giggle, once again tilting your head upwards to press your lips to Kondraki’s.

He chuckles deeply, thankful you didn’t mention her name and squeezes you against him. He revels in the feeling of your hearts beating in sync before gently and reluctantly peeling away from you. “C’mon, last of these boxes?”

You grin. “Last of these boxes.”

“Is that the last of it?” You huff, dropping the box onto the living room floor.

Kondraki wipes back the hair that’s fallen over his brow and nods. “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.” He stretches his arms a bit, then his back, and takes in a few deep breaths. “Who knew such a small apartment could hold so much stuff.”

You chuckle heartily, “I know, right?” You check your watch. “Oh! Your turn to pick up Draven,” you say as Kondraki glances to his own watch, brows shooting up in surprise.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says as he pulls open the front door again. “Be back in a bit, love you,” he says as he rushes out the door.

“Love you too,” you call back, watching as a sly smile spreads onto Kondraki’s lips, listening to the car start off in the distance. You hum as you get to work, already familiar with the house as you begin to move things around.

It’s honestly relatively mindless work considering a good portion of your things have already been moved to the house in preparation for this day. You’re about halfway through getting your clothes into the drawers Kondraki cleared out for you when you hear a ping. Curiosity gets the better of you and you stand up, looking for the pings. Multiple of them. Sounds like an instant messenger go off, but you’ve never heard that type of notification sound before.

You begin to search the room, crouching down and playing an odd sort of “marco polo” with the thing until you check the closet. There, hidden behind piles of out of commission sweaters is a laptop. Weird, how have you never noticed that before, especially with all the times you’ve spent in this specific room? You shake the thought off and begin to move the sweaters aside and grasp for the laptop. It looks new, like, really, really new. There’s no company mark on it either. Silver chrome, in good condition, you raise a brow.

‘Should I really be doing this?’ You ask yourself as you debate on prying open the laptop or not. You bite your lip and sigh before deciding that yes, you’re going to be nosy even if your boyfriend might not appreciate it. You’ve never gone through his things without his permission prior to, and this was just to stop the notifications that kept incessantly going on. You pry open the laptop, pupils constricting slightly with how bright the screen is.

Of course, it’s locked.

Curiously, the little chat bubble is still open, and you’re able to read the correspondence. You read over the names, there’s three. Gears, Bright, and Clef. Must be coworkers? They seem a tad worried.

Gears: You cannot keep spamming him in hopes it will work.

Clef: the hell I can’t?? He needs to get his ass over here

Bright: I’ve tried call him and it’s not working

Bright: which is weird because when was the last time you saw him off his phone

Gears: Dr. Kondraki, you are needed almost immediately.

Dr? You raise a brow and scroll upwards in the chat, hoping to get some type of answer. And it keeps going, hundreds of messages about work and things you’re just barely piecing together. Luckily, there’s a little button that allows you to go all the way to the top - or at least how far the logs go.

What is all of this? Images are sometimes shown about files or strange creatures. How is this even allowed out? Your mind begins to spin.

While you scroll through the chat, you look up things through your phone, whispers of things called ‘SCPs’ and containment procedures, and of course, you find next to nothing. Is this just some elaborate Dungeons and Dragons campaign? Your head is spinning further and further as you go down the rabbit hole.

Apparently, Gears, Bright and Clef need Kondraki for something in regards to SCP 239, and it may or may not break ethics code. The things they’re planning on doing… You’re not sure what to make of it. You’re so immensely confused, head practically tearing apart at the seams when the front door opens and you hear Kondraki step back inside, a long sigh on his lips.

“Reader? You in?” He calls out. “Sorry for coming back so late, Draven’s mom, she uh,” he chuckles uncomfortably under his breath, “Draven’s not gonna be with us this weekend.”

You panic and slam the laptop shut, struggling to get the room back in order as Kondraki makes his way to the bedroom.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asks, brow raised as he leans in the bedroom doorway, arms slightly crossed.

“I was just putting away my clothes!” You rush out, smiling at him.

“Sure,” he says with a small chuckle. His eyes scan over you before he realizes you’re sitting in front of the closet. His heart begins to sink. “Reader…”

“Konny-”

“How much did you see?”

You bite your lip. “I didn’t see anything,” you say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kondraki can practically feel the lie radiating off of you. “What did you see?” He asks again.

You feel shivers running up and down your spine, your heart is constricting. “...What is SCP 239?”

A long sigh leaves Kondraki’s lips, his eyes slowly moving from you to his wardrobe. The top drawer, the one you can’t reach, the one he’s told you is nothing more than a coin holder… It has the amnestics. He blinks a few times, heavily walking over to the bed and plopping down on it. “C’mere, I’ll explain it to you,” he says, patting the space beside him.

You hesitantly stand, hand resting in his.

Kondraki rests his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he begins to weave to you the tale of everything you should have never known. Like the first humans in the garden, you were tempted by the snake and ate of the fruit that should have not been eaten. Knowledge is your damnation.

It’s exhausting, entirely exhausting. The weight of all this knowledge - you can’t help but lay back on the bed and listen to Kondraki’s heart, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“Are you tired?” He asks softly, his nose buried into your hair.

You nod ever so slightly.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

You feel tears welling in your eyes as Kondraki’s grip around you tightens. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

He hums deeply, lips peppering kisses to the crown of your head. “Of course I will.”

“You promise?”

A slightly prick snaps at the base of your skull.

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

You wake up the next morning with tired eyes and a heavy body. You yawn, stretch, and crack your back, eyes narrowing at the sound. Crisp. With another small yawn, you sit up and look out your window, pleased to see that there’s little to no traffic outside. You wonder if you’ll see Sophie soon. Her fathers would be pleased to have the day off, after all. You reach over for your phone.

10 AM on a Saturday? You briefly panic, wondering if you’re missed any baby sitting appointment with your favorite gal when you see a text from Dylan.

Philip: hey sugar cube, Dylan’s mother cancelled the visit for this weekend. Won’t be needing to watch Sophie this weekend. Have a good one

Came in at 7 AM. You let out a breathy sigh before falling back onto your bed. Thank goodness, you would’ve felt awful for leaving them hanging! You sit back up again, thankful you can spend a Saturday to yourself.

Has work really been that hard? Blank spaces begin to make themselves known in the back of your head, a mosaic that you can’t quite place together, but it’s not blatant. Why would it matter?

You brush off the strange, bubbling thoughts before swinging your legs over the bed, sleepily heading to your kitchen. Same tiny apartment, same shitty walls. You run your fingers over your scalp before finally entering your kitchen. Why does it feel so… strange? You blink the feeling back.

There, on the countertop, is a cup of your favorite breakfast drink. It’s resting on top of a slip of paper in a handwriting that feels so familiar, yet hazy.

You try to bite back the horror that someone was in your apartment when you were asleep but shakily reach out to the note anyways, not realizing that your eyes are beginning to water as a response.

‘Nice to see you’re up, Reader. Always were a late riser. Look, I’m not supposed to be writing this to you, not after what happened, but I know you’re going to be confused to hell and back. Our use of ‘medicine’ can only go so far, and you’re bound to go spotty now, and a few months from now. You’re going to be confused, and you’re going to feel things that you aren’t supposed to because at one point, you really did feel them. When that happens, I need you to call this number - XXX-XXX-XXXX.

You’re really confused now, huh? Wouldn’t expect anything less, you never should’ve found out about this in the first place.

I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For failing to protect you, for taking away so much and not even being allowed to tell you what it is I’ve taken away. Perhaps if that day had gone differently, if I didn’t spend that time talking to her, I would’ve made it back in time to stop you.

You deserve better than this, truly. I wish I could have been that for you, and I’m so, so sorry that it had to come to this. Our protocol is strict, and I couldn’t bear to put you through what I’ve-... Some things are better left unwritten, but just know that it was better this than putting you through what we’d call hell on earth.

I’ve never broken a promise to you, not in the four wonderful years I’ve known you and the three I’ve loved you. I’ve managed to keep them all, but I fear this is the first I will break.

Call the number when things get weird, maybe we'll meet again.

With all my love, Kondraki.’

#benjamin kondraki #dr kondraki #dr kondraki x reader #dr kondraki scp #dr kondraki headcanon #scp #secure contain protect #scp x reader #scp headcanon #scp benjamin kondraki #scp foundation #kondraki

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anarchy-and-piglins · 3 years

Text

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job.

He supposed that was to be expected when one was tasked to dealing so closely with death and decay. An unending stream of souls passed his path – no similitude between their age or gender, their species, or even the manner with which they had perished. Phil found them and with the touch of a hand helped them to their feet, waving away all mortal burdens so they could pass on.

His task was merely to play the guide, he did not need to do anything beyond that. Who died was not up to him, neither was where they went after. Moral judgment was better left up to the deities, and Phil was not a god. But he could offer some kind of solace in their final moments, wipe the pain from their face and help them depart to whatever it was they were destined for next. Over time he had gathered expertise at comforting the dying.

Some wanted to be held as they died, both arms wrapped tightly around Phil's waist and rapid heartbeat slowing to a tilt. Others talked until they ran out of breath, recounting snippets of the stories they had lived or simply told Phil how scared they were to die with sobs shaking their chest. Then he would wipe away their tears and console them with the knowledge that soon all pain would fade. Others still were content in the silence, their only fear dying alone and forgotten. Phil sat with them in company, humming a song to himself that he hoped eased their way into death.

Then he would touch them carefully, their soul a bright burning like a flame held to his open palm. He would guide them where they needed to go, and not dwell on if their passing was just or not.

People had mistaken him to be the angel of death before, never mind the fact that this title was an oxymoron by nature. Phil knew it probably had to do with his wings, long feathers stretched out behind him in an arch of dark grays and black. It was a wrong assumption people made about him which he regarded with patient allowance, sometimes even aiding the moniker in its spread. He didn't mind if that was what people thought him to be.

But being an angel of death would imply he brought death with him where he went, a harboring of future loss yet to come. On the contrary, Phil felt as if he was always one step behind, chasing a shadow that fled before him and took lives where it settled. He arrived at the battlefield long after the banners had already been torn down, the ground reduced to a jutting landscape of limbs and discarded weapons. He crossed the sea of corpses – detached to the sense of dread such a scene would induce in normal people – and set about guiding the soul he had been tasked to find onward.

The sight of a man barely into his thirties, frightened expression frozen on his face when the javelin had been driven into his chest, made his heart clench.

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job, no. But it was an obligation that needed to be filled, and he had been the one chosen to do so.

He only strayed from that path a handful of times.

The first time he did, the sunlight was bright. The air was filled with an sense of exhilaration, the rushing of people along cobblestone streets and children shrieking as they played between their parents' legs. Phil drew his robe closer around himself; even after all this time he was filled with unease.

His work didn't often call him to places so full of life – so full of happiness – unless something terrible was about to happen. And he braced himself for the consequences.

But instead, the pull on his soul was languid, small tugs towards the town's bustling square. A slow death then, somebody slipping away into old age? He traced his eyes along the houses, wondering if that was all it was. Natural causes rarely needed his services. Souls that passed on in a tranquil fashion wouldn't require guidance to find the afterlife. It was those that struggled with accepting death that concerned his labor.

Instead, his gaze fell on a shape standing hunched over on the edge of the square and Phil felt his heart drop.

The boy couldn't be too old, barely a teenager to most. His matted, curly dark hair was half-hidden under a beanie and his long legs were slightly shaking beneath his thin frame. Despite the tremble, he was playing an old guitar, deft fingers moving smoothly along the string. As Phil approached he could hear the music the boy was playing, a tune of his own devising no doubt. Phil liked it.

The crowd must not agree. The boy's basket, a small thing with cloth at the bottom to keep coins from falling through the cracks, was empty. People hurried past, barely giving the musician a second glance, and even if they stopped to watch him play for a moment, they didn't leave a contribution behind. Humans could be disgustingly selfish like that.

As Phil observed more closely he could tell why he was here.

How long had the boy been doing this? Traveling around from town to town and settling only long enough to play his music in the hopes some would take pity on him and offer money for his skill. Whatever luck he had found must have been few and far between. His bones were too visible beneath the skin, his cheeks hollowed out and sunken. Bright eyes that Phil somehow knew were supposed to spark with life had become dull in the face of malnutrition.

And still the boy was playing.

After a few minutes more – during which Phil simply watched – the boy grew too tired to continue much longer. He sunk down onto his knees with a sigh, the guitar cradled in his lap protectively. The only valuable possession he was most likely to have. His shoulders sagged as he pushed a hand against his empty stomach, scrunching his face up from what Phil assumed must be pretty horrible hunger pains. He didn't seem to have the strength to raise his head again.

Phil approached, tipping his hat in the belief that it would make him seem less threatening to the starved teen. "That was some lovely playing."

With strenuous effort, the boy looked up at him and despite the circumstances, offered him a lopsided grin. From up closer, Phil could tell how young he really was. "Thanks man, I wrote it myself."

Just as he had expected. It pulled at Phil, the physical thrumming of a soul about to leave its body as it succumbed to starvation. And it was cruel, as the humans behind them walked along the town square, buying food from stands and trading for gold. Meanwhile, a child sat here starving because there was nobody to look after him.

A sharp inhale from Phil to ground himself. Time slowed down around them as he unfurled his wings, all other movement slowing down by the molasses-like pull of his power. Only the boy would be able to see, but his eyes widened nonetheless.

"Oh," he said, a small sigh of resignation. He didn't seem surprised. "You're here to take me away right?"

"I am," Phil confirmed quietly. He wasn't too used to people staying this calm in the face of his true form.

The boy smiled again, more timid and broken through by exhaustion not of his age. He had already reconciled with what was about to happen. Phil knelt down in front of him.

"Are you scared?"

"I guess not," the boy answered. "There's just... just a lot more I wanted to do, you know?"

Phil couldn't. He couldn't know because he had been immortal since the first dawn. He had no grasp on the concept that was the painfully human fear of running out of time. But he nodded anyway. Holding out his hand, he hesitated only a moment before touching the tips of his fingers to the boy's forehead.

His soul glowed dimly in his ribcage, proof that he was running out of life. The color was a stunning yellow, woven through with odd traces of blue. Like a sunrise being steadily overtaken by the noon sky. Within lay the power of creation, the power to bring words and music to completion. Phil didn't know what came over him, but he felt pity for this boy's death.

Then he felt it. The push was subtle, a tingle down his spine and he leaned into it, wondering what would happen. How painful it would be for him. "What's your name?" he asked.

The boy opened his eyes, slipped close from fatigue. "Wilbur."

Phil pushed harder and the horrible feeling of draining that came over him was hard to bear. Dizzy as it made him, he kept at it. Emptiness washed over him, but then he noticed the way Wilbur's eyelashes fluttered, the way his chest heaved in for a deep breath.

Returning life to a mortal had been a first for him.

Wilbur blinked wearily, probably confused by his sudden surge of energy. The absent hunger that had plagued him for weeks. "Wha-"

"Wilbur," Phil said softly, as time resumed its restored flow around them. His wings had been retracted and Phil stood with a feeling like he had permanently lost something important. "How would you like to travel some more? With me."

The second time he did it, the world was struck through with red.

Phil huffed to himself and removed his hat to fan his face with it instead. He quite despised being sent into the nether – something that had only occurred on rare occasions.

It wasn't that his services weren't appropriate to this dimension. Death permeated this place more than any other he had visited during his travels, naturally dangerous terrain and many hostile creatures making it an unwelcoming venture. But the few sentient beings that lived and thrived in the nether did not have the same qualms with death as most did, not fearing it as the end of all things temporary.

Some even revered it as the final blaze of glory to be feverishly sought after.

Most passed on easily, with fervor. It rarely occurred to them to resist the pull of the beyond or make the transition harder than it needed to be.

Not this time apparently. Phil traveled the cracked ground, the unpleasant heat of the lava running beneath it keeping him light on his toes. The pull was strong this time, an urgent tugging like a fish hooked on a line, meaning that whoever was dying had to be in considerable pain. He felt their panic, something bordering on sharp-set denial. A warrior not prepared to lay down his sword?

The boy he found was not a warrior.

In fact, he was barely old enough to hold a sword without the weight of it crushing him. He did have a blade, tiny fist curled tightly around the iron hilt. When he spotted Phil he clutched it firmly and raised it in an ill-concealed threat. Or maybe a gesture of self-preservation.

The warning held little weight when the boy was clearly making an effort to keep standing on his feet. Long strands of pink hair stuck to his face and back – slick with sweat and blood. Fresh cuts and bruises were hardly distinguishable from older scars and the signs of battles wrought long ago. The deepest gash ran along the boy's side and over his chest, still seeping red and probably soon to be fatal. Phil frowned.

"Hey, calm down." He held up his arms placatingly. "I'm not going to hurt you." Not technically a lie, of course.

The boy grunted at him, a low visceral noise that could hardly be called human. Phil realized why a moment later, as he stepped closer and finally realized the person in front of him wasn't human either. Maybe he could be mistaken for one at a glance – aside from the peculiar color of his hair – but upon closer inspection, the illusion quickly fell through.

Sharp claws extended from the hands he used to hold his sword up with and what Phil had mistaken for clunky old shoes turned out to be hooves instead. piglin-like ears were barely visible through the boy's hair and when he made another angry sound, the beginnings of tusks yet to grow in completely revealed themselves. Well, that explained why a child would be all alone in this hellhole.

Another step forward and that was the moment Phil realized that if this child was not human his common tongue would probably not be understood. He was just starting to scour his brain for some distant knowledge of the piglin language he must surely possess when he was hit square in the forehead with a stone.

Phil yelped, blinking just in time to see the kid run off.

Well, that had certainly never happened before. Most of the people he was sent to collect didn't have the stamina left to try and outrun him. Not that it made a difference anyway, as the pull of his soul would inform him of their location no matter how far they went.

A few minutes later he already came upon the boy again, this time lying face-down on the ground, blood loss finally getting the better of him. His sword was still clutched at his side. Phil stalked over calmly, hoping to anticipate any other projectiles coming his way but the child was probably in no condition to try that stunt again. Kneeling at their head, Phil turned them around carefully.

The child's burning red eyes were half-lidded in pain and every inhale rattled inside his chest unsteadily, troubled by his slowing pulse. he was dying fast. Yet when Phil brought his hand forward the kid's own came up to snatch his wrist, pulling weakly at his arm.

It wasn't exactly fear that contorted the boy's face, Phil had seen enough people cower at the prospect of death to recognize the cowardice with which most people faced their demise. This was something else. This was resistance in its purest form, a survival instinct that ran deeper than blood could. The boy let out a subdued whine, lacking the energy for anything more, as he tried to push Phil's hand away or get free from his grip.

Once again Phil felt that familiar pity tug at him.

He pushed through the kid's feeble struggle to touch his forehead, feeling the pulsing of his soul. It became a visible swirl of misty blood, the colors presented in all shades of red - from lightest pink to a maroon so dark it seemed to steal the light away. Phil had to bite down on his own tongue when the first wave of hurting hit him.

He was familiar with pain, but mending another and bringing them from the brink of death was entirely new. It burned along Phil's veins, a liquid fire not unlike the scorching sulfur of the nether itself. The boy shifted a bit in his grasp before finally settling down and slipping into sleep, the worst of his wounds gone. Phil lifted him as he stood up, noticing he weighed next to nothing.

The stinging sensation lingered inside his nerves as he carried the child out of the nether.

The last time he did it was on a dark and stormy night.

The rain came down on Phil relentlessly, soaking his clothes and hair both. Thick droplets clung to his face and he had to wipe at his eyes continually to even be able to see three feet in front of him. He hated this, he'd much rather stay inside on an evening as miserable as this. But when the pull called Phil would answer. It wasn't like he had a choice.

And it was strange, weak in its force but forming almost a mirror image of echoes in his ribcage. Phil wasn't used to that happening often, cautious as to what it would mean. Souls rarely passed in such unison, a synchronized entwinement. The last time he had experienced this he found a mother in labor, alone and afraid as she tried to birth her child into this unforgiven world. Neither had survived the ordeal.

Phil had soothed himself with the knowledge that they would be united in the afterlife.

This pull was slightly different though, and he followed it strangely as it led him deeper into the forest. Any moment he expected a building to dawn in front of him, a secluded cabin or some other sign of civilization. The thicket never thinned out and no light filtered through a window appeared on the horizon. The pull intensified and Phil swallowed, aware of what this meant.

There were two of them, curled up close into each other to conserve their dwindling body heat. The smaller boy was unconscious, clinging to life with some stray strings of determination fast slipping away, brown hair wet and stuck in angles to his face. The other seemed to be of similar age and had blonde hair he rubbed out of his eyes. He perked his head up as he heard Phil's approach, and curled his arms tighter around the other one in a clear display of protectiveness.

Phil stood across the clearing and stared at them.

Part of him wanted to ask what they were doing out here – even if it didn't matter, even if they were already dying from the exposure to cold wearing their bones down. Stealing the heat of life from their very skin as they clung to each other in idle hope.

He didn't need to ask, however. The clothes they wore were telltale of the many orphanages Phil had needed to visit over his life, the way the fabric always seemed to come inches short and the shoes were loose on their feet, worn by a child they were not intended for. Nobody had bothered to give them proper care.

"Who's there?!" the boy who was still awake said, voice firm and puffed up with false bravado. Phil could sense the fright hiding beneath, but the boy was doing well subduing it.

He made his presence known, keeping his wings invisible for the moment as to not scare them any further. "Hey, it's okay kid-" Phil tried, volume as low and unthreatening as he could make it while still being loud enough to be perceivable over the storm. The rain made him blink fast, trying to force a smile despite the unpleasant wetness.

"Stay the fuck away!" The boy sprung up with surprising agility for somebody who must be suffering from serious hypothermia. He had a small pocket knife, the blade dull and glistening in the moonlight, which he held in front of him as if it could protect anybody. "Don't come any closer, you weirdo!"

The last word caught Phil off guard and he nearly burst out laughing. "Weirdo?"

The kid bit his lip, probably thrown by his strange reaction. "Y-yeah. Why else would some dude just be wandering the woods at night? You must be some kind of creep." He moved the knife again, but there was no urgency behind it.

He wasn't shivering either, which was a bad sign. Once you got cold enough, your body couldn't even muster the strength to shake. The unconscious boy sighed out a soft sound of discomfort and the other turned around, hastily scooting over to try and rub his friend's arms warm.

"T-tubbo, dude, don't-" he was muttering under his breath.

"What happened?" Phil asked despite himself. He knew it wouldn't help to know.

"It's none of your fucking business!" the boy answered heatedly, but his voice was already breaking down. A few more steps closer and Phil could see the tears streaking down his cheeks. He pressed both hands to his friend's face, shaking him lightly. "Tubbo, please get up we need to leave."

The smaller boy – Tubbo – murmured something but didn't wake up. Phil could tell he was already done for. The other one would be shortly behind.

He hated how the pity swelled up again, bitter and destructively human.

"I can help," he heard himself saying, and unfurled his wings to their full stature. The rain slowed, suspended in the air and the boy looked at him with weary eyes, equal measures of concern and hesitance. "Do you have a name?"

The boy started shaking his head as if he was reluctant to give it up. But then he thought better of it. "Tommy," came the clipped response.

"Tommy," Phil repeated. "May I help you? May I help your friend?"

That same uncertainty returned to his face, brow furrowed in thought and his eyes moved side to side, scrutinizing Phil's form and most likely weighing his options. He must have realized any other plans had been exhausted and gave a short nod.

Phil moved in gradually to show he meant no harm. Tommy still had most of his body put in front of Tubbo, still shielding him in case this turned out to be a bad decision. He flinched when Phil stretched out his hand, which he pretended not to notice.

His soul was almost effervescent, murky green like the shallow waters and mingles of orange and red. It seemed to move beneath Phil's touch, curious as to what was happening. Tommy's skin was clammy and cold as ice.

Feeling that same coldness in his gut, Phil pushed life into the soul. The warmth of divine light flooded out of him, tethered on the edge and he tried not to shiver under the assault, the hollow feeling that entrapped him. Tommy's paleness drew away with his efforts.

When he was done he took off his robe, soaked but at least another barrier against the wind as he threw it over Tommy's shoulders. The boy was wide-eyed, freckles dotted along his nose, and probably confused as to what was even happening. Phil eased him with a gentle smile.

"Now your friend too, yes? You can both come to my home, it will be much better there than out here in the rain."

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job, but he enjoyed the gifts it had granted him.

His wings and the ability they gave him to travel. He had crossed wild lands and sullen deserts. He had passed by oceans and beneath skies of colors unimaginable to most. The world had lain beneath him sprawled out like a patchwork blanket as he soared the clouds, everything below so small he could hardly imagine it being real.

He had witnessed generations. He had seen the best that others could offer – and yes, the worst too but he had made the conscious decision not to dwell on that. He had known cultures and kingdoms, tasted foods and danced to music and admired flowers that had long since been forgotten to the history books.

And now he had a family too.

Phil had paid his dues. Immortality was a strange thing, a blanket that wrapped around you and made you forget you were different from others. Age never touched Phil and it still couldn't, but other things had been granted that ability.

Hunger and thirst, where it used to be that neither bothered him. When feasts were a mere indulgence instead of a necessity, they were now an aspect of survival. A blade could cut him down, where it could hardly slice his skin before. He was not invulnerable to the destroying of his body anymore. And cold and heat became a constant struggle, tiredness pulled at his mind and Phil found himself craving and needing sleep when he never had previously.

His family had made him more human than he expected, in every sense of the word.

But when he looked at them around his table, joking and laughing in jest, the radiation of souls alive and well, Phil knew it was a price he had gladly paid.

#philza #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #tubbo #dream smp #mcyt #shara writes #psukhopompos phil #Posted this on AO3 too so if this doesn't read as easy go there uwu #long fic

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sunlightandsuffering · 3 years

Note

I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT DIKEODJRKRK LIKE SHES EVEN NICE TO REINER

😂😂😂 bro Its kinda funny tho Eren would lose his fucking mind.

She likes Reiner... fucking Reiner.

She keeps sending him flirtatious glances and cute little winks every time she drops off a scone or a water refill and Eren simultaneously wants to pull his hair out and stick his fork through Reiner's eyeball. And the blonde man sitting across from him knows it. He keeps giving Eren nervous looks and he's grabbed at the collar of his shirt too many times now just to be readjusting it.

Does she not SEE him or something. He doesn't want to be vain but Eren knows regardless of Mikasa's long lost love for him, he's a good-looking guy, he can wheel girls and it's easy. Objectively Reiner is also good-looking, but they're just not the same, Reiner is built like a wall and Eren is a bit more lithe and his face more chiselled. He personally thinks he's a bit better-looking than Reiner but still what the fuck Mikasa?

Well time to turn on the charm, he's usually okay at seducing waitresses, it's been a hot minute though.

Turns out he's not so great at it or maybe Mikasa just hates him he's not entirely sure. At every turn she stonewalls him.

Flirty wink: ignored.

Writing his number down on a napkin and slyly handing it to her: balled up and thrown into the trash. Coincidentally running into her after coming from the bathroom: IGNORED

Flirtatious banter: she takes the opportunity to smile and laugh at Reiner.

He's on the worst losing streak of his life and he doesn't understand.

"Hey, Mikasa is it? That's a really pretty name, does it have any meaning or anything." The line is a last resort and he only does it because he can't think of anything else. He just knows he needs to make some kind of impression on her.

She gives him an unimpressed look, "No, I'm surprised a guy like you said it correctly though, usually everyone gets it wrong." His jaw drops, a guy like him?? A GUY LIKE HIM?? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??

He can't believe the love of his life hates him because he's been stereotyped as a douchebag. How tragic.

He tries to rebound from her epic destruction of his character, "Well I'm sure you haven't met a lot of guys like me I'm a bit different than what you'd expect." She looks at him in disbelief, but hey at least she's not trying to flash Reiner her epic rack through her low-cut shirt anymore. Now she's just irritated. "Guys like you are a dime a dozen. I bet your name is Kyle, you're probably in business school and president of your fraternity. You do stand-up paddle board yoga on the weekend with your dog at your parent's beach house and you flirt with anything that walks because you can. I've got news for you Kyle, not interested."

All of their friends are just kind of staring in horror at the epic takedown they've just witnessed but Eren shrugs it off he can take the verbal abuse, there's just one thing he can't get over.

KYLE?? SHE THOUGHT HIS NAME WAS KYLE?? Why is he being stereotyped like this, why isn't Reiner, he looks like way more of an asshole than he does.

His face downturns and his mood sours, he doesn't even want to flirt with her anymore, she's just being mean now.

Well might as well stick it to her today, give her a memorable story for her friends, he'll come back another time without a man bun and maybe she'll change her tune. "My name is actually Eren. I'm in pre-med, definitely not involved in a fraternity but Reiner over there is," he points at his blonde friend, he needs her to know he's a douche, SHE CAN'T like Reiner more than him.

He leaves a wad of cash on the table with a generous tip for his meal, "I do actually enjoy stand-up paddle boarding but I don't have a dog and on the weekends I usually volunteer at my dad's clinic. I don't usually flirt with a lot of girls, only ones with dark hair and bad attitudes but since you're so obviously not interested Mi-Ka-Sa," he draws out her name as he stands, towering over her a small grin on his face, "I'll take it as my loss for today but I'll be sure to see you next time."

He leaves her with a wink and he doesn't bother to look back as he leaves the restaurant, waving at Levi who is busy cleaning up behind the cafe counter where they sell pastries.

Mikasa feels AWFUL. That's the meanest she'd ever been in her life but in her defence she's having an awful day and she'd thought the blonde guy, Reiner was cute. He's just her type, blond, tall and with pretty eyes. Of course she'd noticed that the other boy was equally attractive if not more so but she'd written him off as an asshole almost immediately. So to say she's shocked by his response to her is a bit of an understatement. She's a terrible human being and she almost considers running after him, but she still needs to help his friends pay their bill. She gives the debit machine a mournful look as her guilt kicks in. She'd taken all of the stress of her day out on him, it wasn't his fault her car had broke down this morning and that almost every consecutive customer she'd had today had been a dick in one way or another.

She's about to awkwardly ask who wants to pay their bill next when a curly haired girl pipes up from her spot in the corner of the booth. "Hey I know you have absolutely no reason too, but can you do us a favour and run after him. I can almost guarantee it'll be the best decision of your life."

Everyone else around the table is nodding seriously and she doesn't understand at all but well if they all agree, who is she to say no. She leaves the debit machine and speed-walks out of the restaurant, picking up to a quick jog when she spots him well into the parking lot and almost to a silver car.

"Hey!" She yells but he doesn't hear her, he's fiddling around on his phone. She breaks into a sprint just to catch up and she curses how wide their parking lot is.

"Hey you! Eren!" She yells again when she gets close enough and he finally stops, turning to look at her. She stops in front of him, wheezing a bit to catch her breath, god she's out of shape these days.

"What can I do for you Mikasa?" He asks, as if she didn't just insult him.

"Give me-" She wheezes again, "a minute." "Got it." He says and she takes a few more deep breaths before she finally speaks. "I'm really sorry about everything that just happened, I um-I've been having a bad day and I took it out on you. I didn't mean it, I was just being a dick."

She looks up to observe his reaction, preparing to be reamed out for her rudeness but he just grins, green eyes twinkling. "What time are you off?"

"Ugh-six?"

"Good. I'll pick you up at six."

He turns and starts walking towards his car again.

She is dumbfounded. What the hell is she supposed to do, did he just ask her out. "Wait are you asking me out, like on a date." "Do you want it to be a date Mikasa?" "Yes?" "Then it's a date." He gives her one last wink and she's left staring after him unsure how to deal with the entire interaction. Apparently now she has a date.

#why did i write a whole fanfic #I AM BUSY WITH MY A/B/O FIC #I need to stop!#eremika #why is eren so smooth tho for real??#lys's drabbles

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bookwormsid1015 · 3 years

Text

Operation: Baby Talk [1/3]

Hizashi pounds his fist against the mahogany door rapidly while Shouta and Oboro stand behind him, Shouta with his standard bored expression and Oboro with shifting, anxious feet. Beside them, a small white cloud floats drowsily with a small grocery bag full of chili bean soup and medicine inside it.

Unlike the three boys, Nemuri is already living alone in a small apartment complex a few streets away from UA High School, working two jobs to keep up with rent and her own chaotic interests. Although her independence gives them a great place to hang out to play video games on weekends, it also draws most of her attention away from them most of the week. Despite this, Nemuri has always been a punctual, upstanding student who turns in her homework on time and always makes room for friends. Nothing has ever stopped her before, and it still amazes Oboro to see her act like such an… adult.

Bottom line: Nemuri is a busy bee and it’s not uncommon to not see her for days on end. What is uncommon, however, is discovering she hasn’t been at school or internship for the past three days and apparently called off work for the next two weeks.

This knowledge has been bothering Oboro nonstop. Is she okay? Did she get hurt while on patrol with His Purple Highness? Did she get sick? Is she all alone? Her parents live in Saitama Prefecture, a whole three hours away from Musutafu. If she is sick, knowing Nemuri and her stupid habit of hoarding her burdens to herself, she didn’t tell them or anyone else. Oboro knows for a fact she didn’t tell him, Shouta or Hizashi; the only reason they know of her strange absence was through Iida Tensei, who Oboro shares his math class with.

“Oh, she called His Purple Highness and told him something came up and that she wouldn’t be coming in for a while,” Iida had told him casually. “Why? She didn’t tell you?”

It pissed Shouta and Hizashi off that Nemuri wouldn’t let them-- her best friends-- know about her getting sick, but it just worried Oboro. It took a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag them with him to the local grocery store, grab Nemuri her favorite soup and some medicine, and come all the way over here. Shouta and Hizashi kept on glancing at Oboro strangely and whispering to each other, but Oboro doesn’t understand why they would act so weird about it. He’s Nemuri’s friend! Friends are supposed to look out for each other, right?

“Nemuriiii!” Hizashi shouts through the door between rapid knocking. “I know you’re in there, I can smell hoe for miles! Open up the mcfuckin’ dooooorrr!”

Shouta lifts an unamused eyebrow at Hizashi. “Dude, what the fuck?” he deadpans, and Hizashi glares at the ravenette from over his shoulder.

“We’re friends! I’m allowed to call her a hoe.” Hizashi turns back to the door. “Nemuri! Open the DOOR!” He emphasizes “door” with a high pitched shriek, and Oboro shoves his palm into his face to stifle his snorts.

“You guys are both assholes,” Shouta grumbles, though it’s obvious he’s smiling.

The door swings open in a quick arc that slams into Hizashi’s forehead with a comical bonk. Nemuri is standing in the doorway, clad in her pajamas with baggy pink sweatpants and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. Her red glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, her deep indigo hair tied up into a short messy bun atop her head, and her tired blue eyes glare at the boys with exhausted irritation. Seeing Nemuri without her usual playful smile is surprising in and of itself, but Oboro’s sky blue eyes widen at what she’s holding against her chest with one arm.

A small baby dressed in a cute little sailor suit is leaning into her chest, snoozing quietly with one thumb in his mouth. He looks like the splitting image of Nemuri, with a matching mole under his right eye and pale skin. The only thing that differs from her is the baby’s hairstyle, which is short and curly.

Nemuri releases the door knob and readjusts her grip on the baby, still glaring at the boys. “What the fuck, guys? You couldn’t even call in advance?” she hisses at them.

Shouta and Hizashi stare between Nemuri and the baby, speechless, while Oboro’s brain turns like slow moving gears. After a solid three seconds, he suddenly utters a horrified gasp that attracts the eyes of all three friends. “Nemuri! You were pregnant?!” he shrieks.

The accusation breaks the shocked spell in an instant, and suddenly Hizashi is lying flat on his ass, howling with laughter. Even Shouta ducks his face away, trying to stifle his giggles; Nemuri narrows her eyes at Oboro pointedly.

“Oh yeah, I got pregnant and gave birth in three days. Of course I wasn’t pregnant, dipshit.” Nemuri readjusts her grip on the baby again, holding him up a little higher. “This is my older sister’s kid. Say hello to baby Haito, everyone.”

Not knowing what else to do, everyone waves at the little baby, and the baby lifts his head drowsily. When he opens his eyes, Oboro is surprised to find the baby’s eyes are a light blue that matches the hue of the sky above, with faint freckles dusting over his cheeks. Upon seeing the newcomers, the baby fusses anxiously and buries his face in Nemuri’s bust.

Nemuri’s attitude changes in an instant, from tired and angry to worried and tender. She lifts one hand to gently pat the baby’s back and she rocks him from side to side. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay Haito-baby. It’s okay. Auntie Nemi’s here. You’re safe with me,” she coos into his hair, and the baby’s whines quiet down. Her voice is so soft and gentle it warms Oboro’s heart just by hearing it, and he can tell Hizashi and Shouta are just as shocked by her motherly tone.

After the baby quiets down, Nemuri lifts her head to peer at her friends, suddenly tired all over again. “Sorry for being a bitch, guys. My sister and her boyfriend had to go abroad for some job interview in South Korea, and since my parents think her boyfriend is a deadbeat, they want nothing to do with him or the baby. So she gave Haito to me,” Nemuri explains, punctuating her words with a tired sigh. “I’ve had, like, no sleep for the past three days. Damn… and my rent’s due next Thursday…”

Shouta and Hizashi look between themselves, unsure of how to react. Only Oboro is willing to meet Nemuri’s eyes, and worry pangs to life in his chest at the dark bags under her eyes. “When will they be back?” he asks her.

“Hm? In about two weeks, I think,” she says, and Oboro can almost feel her invisible walls rising, guarding her from their worry. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m fine. I’ve pulled all-nighters before, this is nothing.”

“You weren’t taking care of someone’s kid, though,” Oboro gently protests. “Have you been eating anything? Anything at all?”

Nemuri pries her eyes away from his concerned stare. “I had a protein shake yesterday,” she replies stiffly.

Oboro’s brows lower into a frown. “For breakfast or dinner?” he presses.

Nemuri sighs. “Breakfast…” she mutters in response, then quickly shakes her head as a wobbly smile forces its way onto her lips. “It’s nothing. I mean it. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

Oboro is already shaking his head. “That’s bullshit,” he tells her, and when he sees her shoulders haunching defensively, he quickly adds, “I know you can take care of yourself, but as your friend, I still worry about you. I mean, look at you! You look like you could pass out any second now!”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone harder this time.

Oboro stares at her incredulously. Why can’t she just let them help for once? She has it in her mind that she has to be the strong one, the responsible one. Why can’t she see that she’s a kid just like the rest of them? It frustrates him to no end, yet in the depths of his exasperation, an epiphany comes to mind.

“Why don’t I help you take care of him?” he offers, and his friends’ eyes fall on him in surprise.

“You? Help me? Take care of… a baby?” Nemuri echoes, her words slow and meticulous as if she were taking her time tasting a treat, figuring out whether she liked it or not. She glances down at the baby in her arms, then to the small cloud floating beside the taller boy, eyeing the small grocery bag full of medicine in particular. Oboro has never seen her look so… anxious before.

Assuming she’s just not used to being offered help, Oboro goes on cheerfully, “Yeah! I have a little brother, remember? I’m a pro at babysitting!” Something about his words is bothering him, the reason flapping seamlessly in the back of his mind, though Oboro can’t pin down why. He just smiles joyfully at her, hoping his smile is convincing enough.

Finally, Nemuri sighs. “Come around six tonight,” she tells him, her tone strange. “Haito usually gets fussy around dinner time.”

Oboro flashes her a thumbs up. “Bet!” he cheers.

Nemuri smiles at him, and Oboro’s heart gives an unexpected beat; somehow it feels different from her usual broad, gleaming smiles. He doesn’t have enough time to decipher it before Nemuri quickly bids them goodbye and closes the door, disappearing back into her apartment.

A long beat of silence passes between them, and Oboro doesn’t dare move his eyes away from the front door. He can feel the hot stares of Shouta and Hizashi on his back, pinning him in place like a butterfly on a bulletin board.

“Holy fucking shit. Did you just…?” Suddenly, Hizashi’s face splits apart into a bright smile, and he latches his arms around Oboro’s to shake rapidly. “Dude, I can’t believe you did that! You’re so smooth!”

Oboro blinks at him owlishly, still not comprehending what just happened. The flapping in the back of his mind is deafening, now. “Eh? What’d I do?” he asks.

Hizashi laughs loudly. “Don’t play coy with me, bro! You totally went, ‘fear not, my love. Even if this child is not mine, I shall support both you and the baby!’ That was so domestic it made me blush!” he squeals.

The puzzle pieces finally fit together in his brain, and a blush hits him with the speed of an oncoming train. Suddenly, he remembers the faint blush on her cheeks, and the tender pull of her smile. Although Nemuri is the type of person to extend a helping hand out to anyone in need, she rarely accepts help from anyone else. In spite of that, she’s letting him help her with taking care of her sister’s baby?

Oboro has no idea what expression is on his face right now.

“Oboro.” Shouta’s stern voice reaches his ears, grounding him before his brain could float into the sky like a balloon. He slowly turns to face the ravenette, and finds Shouta watching him with dark, serious eyes. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” he asks, his tone flat.

Oboro blinks slowly, his brain slow and muddled yet filled with thoughts moving at the speed of light. “I… said I’d help wit’ da baby…” he murmurs dumbly, the words feeling alien on his tongue. Shouta sighs.

The trio finally gather their wits and begin walking away from Nemuri’s doorstep. Oboro is suddenly thankful her apartment is on the first floor; he doesn’t think he has the motor skills to walk down stairs right now. “I know you said you have a little brother, but it’s been seven years since you had to change a diaper. Do you think you can handle this?” Shouta asks the taller boy, and Oboro wrings his hands together tightly.

“I mean, yeah, why not?” he replies, more so to convince himself. “Between me and Nemuri, how hard can it be?”

#Bnha #Bnha Vigilantes #Mha #Kayama Nemuri #Shirakumo Oboro #Aizawa Shouta #Yamada Hizashi #Shirakumo Oboro x Kayama Nemuri #CloudNight #Shirayama #Bnha Midnight #Loud Cloud #Eraserhead #Present Mic #Haha fuckers I told you I won't let this ship die

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years

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The Revived - Chapter 22: Preparations

This is chapter 22 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3,093

Cw: pain, brief loneliness, implied derealization

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur was somewhat thankful that the early morning interaction had been disheveled enough, for Wilbur not to have been asked to leave. It was kind of funny really, that even though Wilbur had been caught trespassing where he shouldn’t, the young boy had been far too distracted to kick him out. Far too confused and awkward. It seemed to be a general trend whenever Ranboo was talking to him.

Though perhaps Wilbur couldn’t act as if he was above that awkwardness, as he hadn’t even gotten around to asking exactly what kind of party it was. He assumed however, for natural reasons, that if it was a party for a toddler, presents for said toddler would be involved. Regardless, Wilbur didn’t think giving a present to a child would be looked down upon in any case. If anything, it might repair what he previously damaged. Even if it was an infinitesimal amount, it could still help.

“Oh oh oh! What should we get him?” Ghostbur asked excitedly, “What does he like? Red, gold, nether things, books…” He chuckled as he jokingly added, “Us! We could wrap ourselves in a present.”

Wilbur chuckled despite himself. “We could,” he said with a smile, feeling a bit of exhaustion dragging at him, but finding it easier and easier to ignore. “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use in these chests.”

Wilbur rummaged through them for a while, only managing to find four gold ingots that could perhaps interest the child. He briskly crafted them into a pair of gold boots that he figured would suit Michael’s size. He narrated the action to Ghostbur as he did it.

“They’re like rubber boots!” Ghostbur had commented excitedly.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I have an idea!”

“Shoot,” a smile lingered in his voice as he grabbed a dark gray satchel nearby. It was light-weight and durable. Perfect for a gift or two. He carefully put the golden boots inside it as Ghostbur rambled on cheerfully.

“So, hear me out. I’ve got the best idea ever in the whole universe. We should make him a card! He can hold and look at it, and you can be nice in it too!”

Wilbur walked downstairs, grabbing some sugar cane from the farm as he quickly pressed it into paper. A quill sat nearby as he picked it up. “Alright, so a simple message…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off.

“Okay, how about, ‘Oh, Michael, you are the most amazing person to exist and I hope you continue existing forever.’”

Wilbur looked into the air as if he was on The Office. “Or we could go with something more general.”

“I gotcha! We can do ‘You are the most amazing person to exist and you are so cool that I hope you continue existing forever.’”

“First of all, I thought I said more general, not less.”

“I did make it more general! I removed Michael’s name from it.”

Wilbur facepalmed gently so it wouldn’t hurt Ghostbur. “I meant for it to be less… emotional? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I want the card to be neutral.”

Ghostbur hummed in agreement. “Okay. We can say ‘I feel neutral about your existence, but I do agree that you chose to exist at this current time, and by the way, you are also very cool.’”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ll take over the writing.” He narrated the words on the paper, “Dear Michael, The world will be at your feet someday! But for now, it's just these gold boots.” A smile slipped on his face at the words replaying in his mind in company with Ghostbur’s noises of approval.

“Oh can we do a drawing at the bottom? Michael likes drawings.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ghostbur excitedly squealed, “Can we- oh my, I have so many good ideas.”

Wilbur chuckled, pleased to hear the ghost being his typical self again. “I can start with drawing Michael?”

Ghostbur clapped, “Yeah! And- and holding hands with him?”

“Sure, just give me one second.” He might have been a leader of a nation and a general for many soldiers, but Wilbur certainly was not an artist. He tried genuinely drawing a face, only for him to scratch it out and get a new paper out and transfer his original message onto it. Instead, he imitated Michael’s drawing style- stick figures.

He drew playful lines across the bottom of the paper. He eventually formed a small stick person with little pig ears, a big smile, and black boots. He would have colored them, but he didn’t want to risk Michael eating the paper as he did just days ago.

Next to Michael, he drew a slightly bigger person. Curly hair at the top and a rough trenchcoat around the body. He hesitantly finished the picture with a small smile on his own face. It felt a bit silly to draw like that. To be making a card for a child after everything, drawing handholding and smiles. Yet Ghostbur’s excitement was strangely infectious. It was sort of relieving in a sense, even if Wilbur wasn’t the type to fall for such bright positivity.

“Alright, the drawings are finished.”

He was about to fold the paper into his pocket when Ghostbur called out, “Wait, did you put any stars on there?”

“No?”

“What kind of drawing is it if there’s no stars?!”

Wilbur sighed quietly as he quickly scribbled some stars in the corners. “Alright, I’m putting it away now-”

“Wait! Did you sign it?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “I’m giving it to him. He knows it’s from me.”

Ghostbur pleaded, “But cards always look better if they’re signed. Just a quick, ‘Love, Wilbur and Ghostbur’ makes the card a thousand times better! No- a billion!”

Wilbur sighed as he remained frozen in place before the words settled in. His mind easily processed the ridiculous request, but not the fact that Ghostbur wanted to be signed on the card too. Wilbur should have probably assumed it, but the idea didn’t fully settle with him. “Alright.” The words were quiet as he quickly wrote down, ‘Sincerely, Uncle Wilbur’.

"Is there anything else I need to add?"

"Hmm, I don't think so."

Wilbur gently placed the card in the satchel as he quickly ran up to see the clock once more, but he slightly frowned to see the hour hand still lingering between the four and five. He brushed it off though. He could easily occupy himself anyway. His eyes glazed over the books on the table before he internally groaned at the thought of hitting the books once again.

He walked over to the table, placing the satchel onto it, before grabbing one of the books before Ghostbur spoke, "Oh, we're reading again?" His voice sounded slightly dismayed.

Wilbur shook his head, "Nah, I'm just putting away some books." Ghostbur made a pleased sound as Wilbur quietly pushed the leather-bound book back into its spot.

He sighed quietly at the odd silence of the room. He focused on the ticking of the clock. It

was a nice sound to focus on. It was a constant reminder he was still alive. Even if he wasn't

the happiest in his position, he was alive.

An alive man that was going to attend a toddler's party with a homemade card that had poorly drawn stickmen inside.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as he finished putting some of the books away. Most of them held no useful information anyhow, and perhaps leaving them out would appear suspicious, should Tubbo return.

He wondered for a brief moment if Ranboo intended on telling Tubbo about Wilbur’s presence in the bunker. He imagined Tubbo insisting on having a talk as soon as Wilbur arrived. Prime, Wilbur despised talks. He just hoped the awkwardness of the interaction, and Ranboo’s apparent secrecy, was enough for Ranboo to leave it out.

Wilbur walked downstairs, finding that his leg had almost healed during his days in the bunker. He was going to harvest some watermelon, simply to pass the time. As he was about to do so, his eyes fell upon something dusty, peeking out of a chest he hadn’t bothered looking much at before. He knew what it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, to get a hold of his thoughts, before walking to the chest, and taking out a dusty mirror.

He rubbed the shiny end of it with his sleeve. The mirror was still vaguely cloudy, but it still showed him nonetheless. Well- not exactly him, but rather his body. The man who stared back was nearly unrecognizable with gray bruises scattered along his face that easily complemented the bags under his eyes.

Complement was a rather strong word as all of his features seemed off-putting to him. His greasy hair hung close to his pale-ish skin. He squished his face with one of his hands, truly making sure that his reflection was his own. Of course, the mirror version moved along with him, but he strangely wished it didn’t.

His mind drifted back to his encounter with Ranboo. Had they really intended on inviting Wilbur to the party in the first place? Or had that been done out of pity?

The only good thing about his reflection was that he couldn’t see the burns along his chin anymore. He touched it gently, finding the skin to be a little softer than before.

He automatically put the mirror down as he headed towards the shower that laid in the bunker. He stopped two steps away as Ghostbur chimed in, “What time is it over there?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” He was pulled out of his thoughts quite easily as he stayed frozen in place.

Confusion laced Ghostbur’s voice, “You can’t check?”

Wilbur shut his eyes tightly for a moment before taking a sharp breath, “I could, but I have to ask you something.”

Wilbur despised the cheeriness in Ghostbur’s response. “Ask away!”

Images of Wilbur’s face flashed through his own mind as he hesitantly asked, “Alright, Ghostie, there’s not an easy way to bring this up.” Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, not wanting to interrupt Wilbur. Despite Wilbur not wanting to continue on, he forced the words out of him, “So- do you know what a shower is?”

“Yeah! It’s one of those plants on the ground with pretty petals.”

A dry chuckle left Wilbur, “No, that’s a flower.”

“Oh. Is it what Tubbo uses in baking?”

Wilbur sighed this time, “No, that’s wheat flour.” As Ghostbur was about to give another guess, Wilbur cut him off, “I’ll just tell you.”

Ghostbur sounded slightly dismayed at his refused answers, “Alright.”

“Alright. Alright,” the words were quiet in his mind as he forced himself back on track. “A shower is something people do to get clean. They use soap and… water to do this.”

“Aww, I was about to guess that too.”

“Right.” It was now or never. “I think I need to take a shower.”

“Okay!”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “You’re… okay with me taking a shower? You know it’s going to require water, right?”

Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the realization. “Ah. I thought you meant soap or water.”

Wilbur exhaled, the tension flowing through his body. “Yeah.”

“So why do you need to take one? I know people in general do it, but you can explain to him that water hurts me.”

Wilbur shook his head, “He can’t know about you.”

Child-like curiosity filled Ghostbur’s voice, but it was slightly dimmer than what it should have been, “Why?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. It was too risky to describe in words. With how little trust Tubbo had in Wilbur, it would most likely foil their plans of Ghostbur’s escape. The suspicion and worry in Tubbo’s eyes wouldn’t temporarily go away at a joke. There wouldn’t be a moment alone with his thoughts as everyone whispered about the mind of his. They wouldn’t say anything bad either, just harsh truths that hurt more than he’d like to imagine. The truths he thought he could escape by finishing his unfinished symphony.

Wilbur’s failed nation transitioned to a mind that couldn’t go a day without the desperate need to talk to someone again. The need for someone to reassure him he was alive and he wasn’t imagining something in the train station again. He was quite imaginative in there. He made fantasy worlds with so many new people, but at the end of the day, he imagined Tommy by his side laughing or cooking breakfast with Tubbo again.

On the rougher days, he would imagine Fundy there. Sometimes he talked about his problems to him, only to cry harder when he remembered his son wasn’t actually there. Or he would imagine Niki running a hand through his hair, telling him all the things he needed. He’d been without that real warm touch for thirteen years that holding himself made a shaky sob leave. It had been pathetic of him to imagine such things, but the silence got to you after a few years, after he had spent a long time growing bitter. No one could see him anyway, so maybe it hadn’t counted at all, as he thought about those potential blissful moments.

The moments he never got. Perhaps he was still at the train station after all, the slight buzz of the lights being the only noise he could hear. No one laughed with him when he came back. The most he got was a dry chuckle that he happened to witness. There was no one to hold or listen to him. Not a single person smiled at his return. He was alone in the train station he thought he escaped days ago.

Tears blurred his vision as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pushed his body against a wall as he slid down it. The gray wall that accompanied the gray floors and flickering fluorescent lights. The tunnel that didn’t stop seemed to stop his mind. It blocked him in every direction that led to happiness before his murmuring thoughts entered.

It took a moment to realize it wasn’t his thoughts, but rather an echoy version of them. “Wilbur? Is everything okay?”

Wilbur swallowed back a cry. “Yeah,” his voice shook for a moment as he tried to breathe normally. “Sorry I spaced out for a second.” There wasn’t a train station. He wasn’t back there. He was in the bunker. “What were you saying?”

Ghostbur quietly answered, “Nothing. Oh- earlier you said you wanted to take a shower?”

The words brought Wilbur back to a more tangible reality. “Right…” he said with a nod, pushing himself up from the ground, his posture wavering slightly. He swallowed something in his throat. “Are you… Are you okay with that?” he quickly added, “I’ll make it as brisk as I can I promise! It’ll mostly be to wash my hair, and to look and smell just a little more presentable.”

Ghostbur had very little reason to trust him. Wilbur was incredibly aware of that at this point, his promises losing all meaning at his forgetfulness, or plain dishonesty. “Of course. Just- Just don’t take too long please.”

“I won’t,” Wilbur said. “I promise,” he repeated, trying to add as much weight to the words as he could. Engrave them, so his mind wouldn’t drift away from it. To keep his mind from drifting away in general.

Gently he put his clothes aside, placing the familiar old trenchcoat and blouse in a little pile. He had associated the outfit with himself for so long, that looking at it apart from him, was almost surreal. Slowly, he walked into the shower. He put the temperature to be as cold as he could, unsure if there would even be hot water in a bunker like this. It would serve as a good reminder that he should make this quick. “I am going to turn it on now. It’ll… It’ll probably reach my entire body.”

“Okay…” Ghostbur said. Wilbur caught himself missing the excitement from when they were making the card together. Frivolous.

He placed his hand on the shower knob and turned it, careful not to let his hand too much under the water. It proved to be a rather needless endeavor though, as his face and body were immediately drenched in cold water. He immediately shivered from the feeling as he felt his movements become jittery and robotic. He heard hurried breaths from his mind, and whimpers of pain, though it was surprisingly silent this time around.

Wilbur let his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. He grasped some soap next to the shower, and mixed some into his hair and on his body, quickly using the water to wash it off. His heart was beating fast, as he rushed to turn the knob once more, some soap still lingering on a few strands of hair. He bolted to the other side of the room, to dry all the remaining water off with a towel, almost as if the uncomfortably cold water was burning him too. The second he could no longer find a drop he let out a few breaths. “There we go. Done.”

Ghostbur took a moment before he replied, his own breathing calming down as well. “Okay… Okay, that’s good! T-thank you.”

Wilbur cringed slightly at the gratitude, not entirely certain what he was being thanked for. “Of course,” he said quietly, his breathing quite obvious and echo-y in the empty room. He suddenly realized that he missed the ticking of the clock. He shook his head, and put on his clothes again, unsure if the warmth they brought was comfort or something that settled heavier in his chest. He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He walked out of the room, grabbing the satchel with Michael’s present in it. He glanced at the clock once more, finding that it was only around 5:30am. He stood in the middle of the bunker for a good minute, closing his eyes tightly, and holding on to the sound of the clock. When he opened his eyes once more, they settled on the potions he brewed over the past few days. There weren’t many, but they comforted him nonetheless. He absent-mindedly packed three strength potions into the satchel, perhaps planning on giving some to Tubbo and Ranboo as a gift.

Then, with determined steps he started walking towards the exit. It felt as if a weight was slightly lifted as he walked out the bunker, though he had grown so used to the weight that he wasn’t sure if that was comforting to him or not. Once he found himself in Pogtopia, he decided to focus on the ground beneath his feet, rather than the buttons lining the walls.

When the sun reached Wilbur’s face, the rays seemed to make his vision less blurry in a sense. The darkness that was so welcoming before, and still called to him, was shoved away in favor of the sunrise.

He remembered right then, when he had declared the first sunrise he saw when he returned, his sunrise. A reminder of life, and opportunity. He stared at the bright sky for a little while. Gently, he placed the satchel on the ground, the glass bottles quietly clinging against each other, and sat down in the grass next to it. He breathed the air into his lungs, as his shoulders untensed. He watched the sunrise intently, as he waited for the party to approach.

#wilbur soot #wilbur angst #revivedbur #revivebur angst #ghostbur #ghostbur angst #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fic

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 3 years

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VISIONS IN THE SNOW

Good Evening All! I have a new one-shot that was inspired by the horrific weather that recently swept across the U.S. It caused so much grief, suffering to so many people. I hope this would bring a smile to some faces. This was written with one particular person in mind (and you know who you are) and I’m glad you like it.

Thanks as always to @scubalass for the read through. Your suggestions were, as always, spot on. It made the final story so much better.

Status of Edinburgh to Boston: There is progress but it is painfully slow. There are two characters that are essential to this chapter whose voice I do not hear as well as I do Jamie and Claire. I write something, then I delete it and I do the same thing over and over. We will come to an understanding at some point so dinna fash. There will be A/N at the end to explain words or terms.

Without further delay I give you Visions in the Snow.

Here goes nothing:

VISIONS IN THE SNOW

February 1968 - Boston

The responsibility for hosting this week’s poker game fell to Joe Abernathy. He took his duties in this regard very seriously. It was the way the surgeons decompressed after a week of stressful surgical procedures and this week was no exception.

“It must have been a full moon,” he thought. Motor vehicle accidents, stabbings, gunshot wounds, volvulus, a ruptured esophagus, the works. It was during these times that he dearly missed his friend. Claire. He cast his glance over to the card table set with one extra place, Claire’s place. On the seat was her green visor that she wore when she played poker with the boys. It sat in repose like a memorial to a fallen comrade.

Silly thing! She believed wearing it masked her glass face. Nothing could be further from the truth, but none of her colleagues had the heart to tell her. They all knew what Claire Randall was thinking. So much so, they often let her win which caused her to think she was good at playing poker.

He glanced around the room and saw that everything was in readiness for the evening. The sideboard groaned beneath the bounty of food, snacks, and brews.

Outside, the wind blew fiercely rattling the windows drawing his attention. Joe looked out the window watching the two front trees bowing to the brute force of nature. Their skeletal fingers scraped at the roof almost as if trying to gain entry. It had been snowing for the last six hours with no sign of it letting up. He had considered canceling the game but a majority of his colleagues soundly vetoed that idea. Only Callahan and Peterson dissented. Callahan’s wife would kill him if he left her alone to deal with their six small ones while he went to play poker. Peterson lived thirty miles away. The remaining players all lived a short walking distance from his home, on Doctors Row. It was so-called because many of the physicians who worked at the hospital lived on the same street. These surgeons were gambling men betting they had enough time for some comradery, hands, and beers before the brunt of the storm arrived.

For a Boston snowstorm, it hadn’t accumulated very much. Yet. Regardless, it would not hamper these hardened surgeons accustomed to driving through Boston’s worst to get to the hospital. Without warning, the storm picked up intensity driving the snow hard enough to erase the landscape before him. Amid the squall, a hazy light glowed like the high beams of headlights in the snow. A wraithlike figure emerged from its center. Joe wasn’t able to make out any of its features. Man? Woman? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was for sure, it was headed directly toward his house.

Joe leaned closer trying to see if the person was in distress as they were caught out in the snow. Maybe they had abandoned their car and were seeking help. His warm breath met the cold pane fogging it, wholly obscuring his view. Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped away the condensation hoping to improve his ability to see. As the person drew closer, it became apparent that it was a young woman and her attire was totally inappropriate for the weather. She wore a long dress whose hem floated across the snow. It looked like a green and black plaid and a white scarf crossed her neck to cover her bosom. Her hair was dark, curly, piled high on her head, and tendrils framing her face. She looked a lot like… It couldn’t be, could it? She came closer. So close that he could see her eyes. Eyes the color of a fine whisky. Claire? Claire! How? She had left for Scotland, disappearing into the past, to find her true love.

Anxiety flowed through him. He needed to speak with the woman. He needed to know if it truly was Claire. Joe tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. The frame had swollen from the moisture, he thought. He rapped on the window calling her name, but she paid no heed.

Claire was running and laughing bright and merry. Stopping suddenly, she turned and extended a hand into the haze. A man appeared laughing and chased after her. He was a big son of a bitch standing at least six feet four inches and as big as a brick…Well, he was big. He had a mop of red hair, but to simply say red would deny the richness of the color. It was a curly thick mosaic of cinnamon, auburn, gold, and cinnabar. And his eyes were the deepest blue Joe had ever seen. The man was kitted out in traditional highland garb right down to the sword strapped to his side. Reaching her, the young man made a courtly bow. He straightened, then took her hand to bestow a kiss. A moment later, he lifted and spun her around. She tossed her head back and peals of joyous laughter rang through the air. He set her down gently settling his hands on the swell of her hips. His eyes danced with love as he lowered his head to kiss her most thoroughly. Joe felt his cheeks burn as he watched such intimacy.

Time advanced in front of him. He became witness to a lifetime, to a marriage, to the bonds of love that could not be broken. The vision changed from the blush of first love through to a life fully lived. He wept at their trials, tribulations, and heartbreak. And he reveled in their accomplishments, triumphs, and joys. But through all their hardships, and there were many, their love for each other never wavered, never changed.

The final event showed the couple had aged. The woman, Claire, had streaks of grey in her hair while the man’s hair had lightened. They stood atop a ridge overlooking some land. The man had his arm securely around her waist pulling her protectively close to him. Claire stood on her tiptoes wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fiery kiss. She nodded her head and started to pull him toward a cabin. He scooped her up and carried her across the threshold kicking the door shut.

As the vision faded back into the vapor as a voice called out, “I am happy Joe. I found my Jamie.”

Resting his head against the cold pane of glass provided a sense of comfort to his unsettled mind and spirit. Uncertainty gripped him as he grappled to understand what happened. Had this been a dream? Or a hallucination? Or had the fabric of time somehow been rent apart? He shook himself, much like a dog dispelling the rain from its coat, hoping to lift his state of bewilderment.

Psssst, pssst, ssssssss! The homely sound of the radiator hissing brought him back to himself and away from his ruminations.

Mercilessly, the wind blew about the house ferociously shaking the windowpanes in their frames then suddenly died away. Out of curiosity, Joe tried to open the window. This time it slid open with ease. The blinding snow stopped returning to light flurries. As he turned to walk away from the window, he noticed the clock on the mantel. It was one minute later than when he last looked at it. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” he muttered.

Joe walked over to Claire’s chair and picked up the visor cradling it to his chest, “Wherever you are Claire, I’m glad you’re happy and you found your Jamie. Jamie, if you can hear me, take good care of our girl.”

With that, the doorbell rang and Joe went to greet his guests.

*************

Claire woke with a start bringing Jamie to instant alertness. He grabbed the pistol he kept by his bedside in preparation for any threat. Seeing none, he turned to look at Claire. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Sassenach, what’s amiss? Are ye alright?”

“I dreamt...I dreamt I was back in Boston going to play poker with the other surgeons. It was our regular night to play. The game was at Joe’s house and there was this blizzard.”

“Poker? What kind of game do ye play with a poker?” he was afraid to ask. Claire had told him so many peculiar stories about her time that he thought this would be another one. The only poker he knew about was the kind used in a fireplace.

“It’s a card game. I was rather good at it too. Someday I’ll have to teach you.” Claire snuggled up against Jamie seeking his heat, his comfort. She yawned greatly, “Except I will miss my green visor.”

“A vi-zor?” All he could envision was a knight’s helmet with a visor covering the eyes and face.

“It’s a sort of hat with a green brim. It shades your eyes and some of your face. People use it to hide their facial expressions when they bluff at cards.”

Jamie looked at her as if she were a bit daft. He knew nothing could hide her thoughts on that glass face. He tucked her head under his chin, “Come, Sassenach, rest yer head, aye? I think ye had a bit of the nightmare. I’ll keep ye warm and safe.” He lowered his head placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Jamie closed his eyes and thought about the black man he had seen in his dreams too. “Aye, dinna fash, Joe. I’ll care for her with my life,” he whispered just before lapsing into sleep.

A/N:

VOLVULUS: A volvulus occurs when part of the colon or intestine twists. The twisting causes bowel obstructions that may cut off the blood supply to areas of the bowels. This can cause the bowel to die or left untreated the person can die.

RENT: This involves a story. When I was in catechism class the teacher was telling the story of Christ’s trial before the Pharisees. When Jesus was condemned one of the Pharisees was said to have rent his garment. You say that to a bunch of kids and they start to giggle. They wanted to know who he rented his clothes to and for how much. So the teacher explained that to rent something meant to tear it apart violently. I fell in love with the word’s usage and I never thought I would get to use it in this way. But I did!

And poor Jamie, Claire’s stories always leave his surprised, confused, shocked among other feelings.

The truth behind this story was that it was supposed to be smutty. Instead, it evolved into this. It was supposed to happen that the Ridge was also snowed-in. Claire was bored with playing chess with Jamie and wanted to play something else. She wanted to teach him strip poker. So I left myself an opening if I chose to do a second chapter. But I have to finish E2B first.

I hope you liked this and it brought a smile to your face.

You can find me on AO3. There I am LadyJane518.

Thanks for reading!

#visions in the snow #ol fanfic #winter #snowstorm #poker #jamie and claire #joe abernathy #visor #tearing the fabric of time #My writing #my story #scubalass #gotham-ruaidh

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artsy-moonwalker · 3 years

Note

Would you go into more details about your OC’s backstories?? They all look so cool 😆

I would love to! Thank you so much for this question :)

I'm going to focus distinctly on their childhood for these descriptions.

(mentions of drug addiciton, war, and violence)

Before I get into their backstories, it is important to address their environmental situation for context.

In their childhood, there was a civil war going on within America. This is a fictional war, of course, taking place in the early 2000s. Lenis, Everest, Flint, and Darryon all have their parts to play, and the war affects the four in different ways. While Lenis, Everest, and Flint are trying to escape war from their hometown and cross the country, Darryon and his siblings are attending shelters and risk their lives trying to help in any way they can.

So now that we have some context of their biggest childhood dilemma, let's get into the four individually. I won't go into complete detail to avoid any spoilers I'd like to share later on, but I will dive into their personalities and importance. I don't know how long this post will be, but I'll try to keep it as short as I can.

Lenis, 13 years old - tall, blond, a bit tan, a distinct scar on his left jaw, brown eyes

Lenis lives in a small town in Ohio. It's a bit run down, and his house is in bad shape. Considering his family is lower class, he doesn't have much money to spend, and he gets by with what he has. He lives with his two strict parents, him being an only child. But he takes care of a stray cat that lives in a forest behind his home that he calls "Otter." Whenever he tries to get the cat to stay in the house, his parents don't allow it. They can't exactly afford to take care of an animal, especially when they have to pay for his monthly medication and doctor visits.

He has a bone condition where his bones are incredibly fragile. He can't walk for very long, and running is even worse on him. It doesn't take a lot of force to break a bone either, and he's had to visit the doctor numerous times for fractures and snaps. So he has a medication that helps him not feel the aching as much, and allows him to walk or run for a time. He is in no way a strong person. His physical strength is constantly challenged and he feels like a burden to those he loves whenever they have to make sacrifices to just to help him. Especially when it comes to his best friend, Everest.

He is always being protected by Everest. He's taken multiple punches for him, he has to carry him sometimes, he can't do a lot of outdoor activities with him due to how easy it is to get injured. Lenis hates this. He hates being held back and he hates that his best friend has to be held back too because of it. He often tells Everest that he can do things himself, but that ends with him getting hurt more than not.

Lenis really is a grateful and humble soul. He tries to find the good in every situation no matter how painful it can be. This is especially apparent for his friends. If anything is troubling them, he will do what he can to get them through it. His optimism was a lot more prominent when he was a child, though. After escaping war, he finds it difficult to find the good in bad situations. But that doesn't mean he won't try to. It's safe to say the light in his eyes are faded as he grew older.

Everest, 13 years old - short, red head, blue eyes

This is Lenis' best friend, that's how everyone at his school titles him. Because he is constantly by his side more than he is alone. He knew Lenis since he was a toddler due to their mothers being friends, and ever since then, Lenis would nickname him "Evvy." Everest was always like a brother to him. He was incredibly protective and would often put Lenis before him.

Emotions and Everest don't exactly work well together. He tends to be reserved. Cold and bitter, even. If he's showing any extreme emotion, it tends to be anger or frustration. But he has a soft spot for Lenis. He's really one of the only people around him that can make him smile. Other than his mom, of course, who he lives with down the street from Lenis. His mother was pregnant before he left home; his father having left after a short and abrupt divorce. Little information was given to him about why that occurred. But his mom was happier, and that's what he wanted. He was never close with his father anyway.

Everest knows that his protectiveness over his friends, especially Lenis, can be a fault at times. He's gotten hurt many times due to it, both mentally and physically. And it isn't even because his friends are defenseless. He knows they can protect themselves if they need to, but he cannot help himself. He can't let them get hurt if he can stop it. He speaks bluntly, and his words may go over a few lines, or he may be prone to starting arguments, but he is incredibly selfless. He means well in every action he takes despite all of that.

Flint, 12 years old - short, black buzz cut, large dark eyes

Flint is a troubled child to say the least. He's callous towards others, he seems to only care about himself, and he isn't afraid to use force and threaten violence. He was Lenis' biggest bully after ending his friendship with him in a desperate fit to steal his pain medicine. Yes, Lenis and him were friends before that. And Flint truly wanted to continue the friendship, but he needed those pills. Lenis wasn't going to just give them to him. So he had to resort to violence, thus harming Lenis, and regretting it later.

It's easy to think that maybe Flint had a drug addiction, and stole Lenis' pills because of that. But that isn't the case at all. It wasn't because of an addiction, it was for a much deeper reason.

His younger sister, Penny, was facing a horrible sickness that was going to kill her if she didn't get the right treatments. His mother, being constantly intoxicated with alcohol, spent all of her money on things she didn't need. So she couldn't afford Penny to have any treatment at all. Flint, who has been basically raising his little sister, decided to take matters into his own hands, and find any possible way to make her feel better. Even if it meant harming Lenis for some pills.

Flint loves his sister more than anyone. Or loved, at least. She unfortunately didn't make it long after the pain medicine incident.

He wants to be good, he really does. But Flint is difficult to get along with. Especially with Everest. Much like the red head, Flint has a short temper, and they always fight with each other. But also like Everest, he has a soft spot for Lenis (he is sort of like the peacemaker of the group). Flint is incredibly emotional, and he always says what's on his mind, even if they're not so nice things. He feels regretful for a lot of things, though. He's trying to be a better person, and befriending Lenis again is something he is determined to do.

Darryon, 12 years old - Average height, black curly hair, dark eyes, has an intense burn scar along his face

Darryon lives in California with his siblings, and only his siblings. His parents died in a car crash while they were on their way home from a relative's house. The war was breaking out, and they were caught up in it at the worst possible time. Darryon's oldest brother was a soldier in the war, and his oldest sister was her younger siblings' guardian while he was gone. He has five siblings, not counting himself. Three girls and two boys. And he is very close with each of them, especially his oldest sister, Carlitha. She followed shelters, and he did the same. For a long time, she was concerned for his wellbeing considering just how dangerous a job like this was. They were always venturing in war zones and had to face many hardships. But even at a young age, Darryon wanted to be part of something bigger than himself. His parents' death were a big motivator in his efforts, and he found that helping others get through the war was an effective coping mechanism.

He didn't go through these hardships without consequences, though. On one occasion, a shelter he was attending got bombed, and he was caught in the flames, leaving the brutal burn marks you see on him now. These marks filled the mouths of the other kids at his school when he tried going back. But how can anyone go back to a normal life after that? Luckily he had a good group of friends to back him up during his good and hard nights.

He has a very distinct sense of humor, and finds it easy to entertain himself when no one is around. Some of the kids at his school think he's weird because of his behavior at times. He talks to himself out loud, he has a funny laugh, he has a few imaginary friends (one stays with him even in his adulthood), etc. But he embraces those things more than anything, and his friends don't care, so why should he?

When he isn't helping at a shelter, he finds time for himself or his family. For example, he's very fascinated with nature, and enjoys drawing what he sees around him in a sketchbook. He's pretty good at it too. What started as drawings of birds or gardens soon turned into drawings of burnt landscapes and debris of towns. He liked to draw the people he would meet in shelters as well, and he kept every drawing, not knowing if that person survived after they parted ways or not.

Darryon's story does collide with the others at some point. He and his sister go to great lengths around the country, of course they're going to befriend Lenis, Everest, and Flint at some point, and it will certainly stay that way.

If you read this far, thank you! I really hope this little introduction to them has intrigued you, and if not, that's okay too :) I want to share more about them later on, and I plan to write out chapters to get the full story soon as well. I've been working on this story for more than a year now in private, and I'm really having fun, so I'm excited to share it with you. Thank you again!

#war story #lenis dosh #everest howsare #flint dean #darryon clifton #penny dean #carlitha clifton

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 1

Here is my submission for Day 1 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net

This is part 1 of the story, and the rest of the parts will be posted, one each day, for the rest of the event. Because of the length of this, full story is under the cut. I've provided a little preview of the story below:

Preview

Perhaps the most strange looking thing about the scene, though, was the small boy perched on the badger’s back. Small black horns pertruded from a head of fluffy blond hair, and long, pointed, velvety black ears wiggled eagerly. Short, splayed fingers gripped the badger’s shoulders, and his small, webbed wings proved quite the contrast from Zane’s feathered ones. Perhaps the most noticeable of all, however, was the long black tail that waved behind him, curved fins flaring out at the end of it. And the delighted trills coming from his mouth were definitely anything but human.

Well, maybe it was strange-looking to anyone else. But for Kai, it was just an ordinary day.

Prompts Used: Panic, Hiding

Word Count: 10,082

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Imprisonment, Dehumanization, Mentions of Murder

Part 1

“Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Kai groaned, blinking awake. His sister grinned down at him, her arms dangling in his face from where she was hanging, her spotted tail wrapped tightly around one of the structural beams.

“Go away,” he mumbled, tossing a pillow in her face. “It’s too early.”

“It’s ten am.”

“So? It’s not like there’s anything to do around here, I might as well get my beauty rest.”

“Goodness knows you need it, with that dreaded mane of yours.”

He tossed another pillow at her face, which turned out to be a mistake, because now he was out of pillows.

“Why do you always have so much energy? Don’t you ever sleep?”

She shrugged. “I like to sleep in the afternoons. I guess it’s a leopard thing? They’re nocturnal, you know.”

“I know, Nya. I’ve had a half-leopard as a sister for sixteen years, don’t you think I would know that by now?”

“Debatable.”

“I’ll ignore that comment if you let me sleep for a little more.”

“Have you forgotten what day it is?” Nya chirped, beginning to swing back and forth. “Today Dr. Borg is letting us take Lloyd into the city!”

Kai sat bolt upright. “That’s today?”

“Yes, fish-brain! You should see him, he’s so excited.”

Kai scrambled out of bed, startling Nya and making her fall into the bed with a yelp. He shook his head, letting his mane cascade around his face and down his back. Huffing as half of it fell into his eyes, he wrestled it into a ponytail- part of it, anyway- and walked over to the door, Nya bounding after him. The other four beds in the room were already empty.

Opening the door revealed the same thing it always did. Another room- this one much larger than the last one, but a closed-off room nonetheless- stretched around them. There were a few other doors that led to bathrooms, a room with skylights (made with reinforced glass, of course, so no one could break it, even if they had superstrength) so they could soak in the natural light from time to time, and just some rooms with various activities- paints, notebooks, computers, puzzles, TVs, and all the books and video games they could ever want, or if they just needed some alone time away from the others for a bit.

But none of that changed the fact that the door on the far side of the room was always firmly locked.

In the kitchen, Zane was whipping up a bowl of pancake batter. Tawny-colored wings unfurled from his back, stretching freely now that he didn’t have to hide them. The feathered tufts behind his ears twitched as a loud shriek sounded out from the other side of the room.

Kai turned, a purr rumbling in his throat as he caught sight of the large badger lumbering across the room. A small yellow labrador raced after him, barking excitedly.

Kai’s tail thrashed fondly. Well, maybe it was strange-looking to anyone else. But to him, it was just an ordinary day.

Almost.

“Lloyd, you’re here already!” Kai called, hurrying over. The small boy brightened- even more so than he already was- at the sight of him, and leapt into his arms. Kai stroked him gently, and Lloyd purred softly, his long tail thwacking against his leg.

The badger blinked at him, shaking his head, and, in a flash of light, he was gone, a young man sitting on the floor in his place. His curly black hair, with a white stripe down the middle, nearly hid the small black ears poking out. Round glasses framed his dark eyes as he grinned up at Kai, his fangs glinting. The lab jumped into his lap, and the man scratched behind his ears. With a flash, the lab turned back into a teenager, his auburn curls falling into his freckled face.

“Augh, Jay! Get off of me, you lump!” He shoved his friend off of his lap, sending him tumbling.

“Hey, Cole, you could’ve asked nicely,” Jay whimpered, even though his golden tail was wagging, and his ears were perked.

“Yeah, well next time, don’t transform back when you’re in my lap! Having a small dog sitting on me is one thing, a lanky teenager is another.”

“Stop acting like you’re so superior! You’re only four years older than me, barely out of teenagehood yourself!”

“I’m not acting like I’m superior! I’m just telling you not to sit on top of me!”

“Whatever,” Jay grumbled.

“Hey, guys,” Kai snorted.

“Mornin’ Kai,” Jay grinned. “Have a nice lie-in?”

Cole groaned, shaking his head, and Kai shot Jay a glare.

“You shut up with your damn puns, puppy boy.”

“Jeez, apparently someone’s had his pride hurt.”

“I swear, one more lion pun-”

“Fine, fine! I know when my witty quips aren’t wanted.”

Jay,” Cole sighed, “they’re never wanted. Anyways, you ready for today, Kai?”

“You bet! They brought Lloyd in early, today, huh?”

“Dr. Borg wants us to get him ready and make sure he’s behaving well before we leave.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “And romping around giving him badger rides and riling him up is a good way to do that?”

“Aw, come on, Kai, he’ll be fine. Besides,” his voice lowered as he went on, “he deserves to have a little fun while he’s here.”

Kai instinctively tightened his grip on Lloyd. None of them knew what happened to Lloyd when their caretakers took him away at night, apart from the fact that Dr. Borg insisted he was perfectly safe, but, at the very least, he was alone, and sometimes, Kai, with his heightened sense of hearing, could hear him whimpering through the walls. Lloyd hated being alone, and Kai didn’t understand why he couldn’t just stay with them all the time.

But, like most things, Dr. Borg just kept them in the dark about it.

Not that he was being ungrateful- Dr. Borg had kept them alive.

Issac Borg, son of Cyrus Borg, had taken over his father’s company when he had died, and, as head scientist at Borg Tower, had made it his mission to help the few living hybrids left- Kai and his friends. Dr. Borg had told them stories of how the human world rejected anything that was different from them- that they feared those with different blood such as Kai and his friends, saw them as “monsters,” and would seek them out and kill them if they ever found out their secret.

But Dr. Borg didn’t think the same way as the rest of the world. He wanted to protect them, to let them thrive and grow strong. So, he took them in and helped keep them hidden. He had given them work to do, too, not normal work, but things that only they could do. Dr. Borg told them how the world wanted everyone to be the same, and to hide what made them unique, but he said that they should be able to play to their strengths. Their trainers helped them learn how to fight, and to use their unique skills to an advantage. At this point, Kai had a repertoire of fighting skills he was eager to bring to fruition, but it seemed like the time never came to use them.

They did get to use their skills in other ways, though. Jay often went out in the streets in his dog form, his quick and cunning nature allowing him to be a natural pickpocket, with the ultimate disguise. Zane’s flight abilities allowed him to scope out Ninjago City, and keep Borg posted on the government’s actions. Nya’s agility skills let her slip around nearly undetected, which kept them out of a lot of fights. Kai’s hearing allowed him to eavesdrop for information, and Cole’s strength and digging skills could break through a lot of walls and barriers.

Except for the ones of their room.

For as much as he loved Borg- he was the closest thing to a father that any of them had- he couldn’t help but feel a bit like a prisoner, trapped up in here. He just wished Borg would trust them more.

Kai was eighteen now. He was old enough to keep himself and the younger ones out of trouble.

Which Borg is depending on me to do today, he reminded himself. The others had gotten the hang of how to behave outside of the tower by now, but Lloyd was still so young and often needed reminding. And it was no secret the little oni, dragon, and human tribrid was especially clingy with Kai. It was his job to keep him under control and on his best behavior.

I can do this. I will prove to Borg how trustworthy I am.

“Pancakes are ready!”

His thoughts were interrupted as Zane chirped at them from the kitchen. Lloyd’s warm, comfortable weight vanished from his arms as he leaped to the ground and scurried towards the kitchen island on all fours, climbing up the barstool to perch on top. He clicked and chirred brightly at Zane, his red eyes glinting hungrily, and the falcon hybrid bit back a grin at his expression.

“Use your words, Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s expression dimmed slightly, and Kai frowned. Lloyd’s reluctance to use human words was probably what worried him the most about integrating him into society. But Zane had been practicing with him ever since he could crawl, and if anyone could get him to speak, it was Zane.

“Can I have pancakes? Please?”

“Yes, Lloyd, you may.”

Zane slid two chocolate chip pancakes onto his plate. The sweet scent of the pastry drifted over to them, and Kai felt his mouth water. Jay, Cole, Kai, and Nya bounded over to the island as well as Zane served them the food. Jay jumped up and dashed towards the cupboard, grabbing out a container of rainbow-colored sprinkles.

Lloyd’s eyes practically glowed as he grappled for them. Jay laughed, and sprinkled a handful onto his pancakes. Lloyd chirred delightedly and hurriedly began to devour his breakfast.

“Jay, don’t give him more sugar. He’s going to be impossible when we go into the city.”

“You’re the one watching him, not me,” Jay chirped.

Kai put his head in his hands, sighing.

“It’s okay,” Zane assured him. “A little milk can go a long way to calm him down. Here Lloyd,” he pushed a sippy cup of milk towards him, “drink some of this.”

Lloyd worked on the milk as the rest of them ate, and, by the time they were all finished, he was looking a lot less feral. Zane was a lifesaver.

Nya glanced at the clock. “It’s almost time to go. We should start getting ready.”

They walked over to the closet where they kept all their gear. The large, loose sweaters allowed them a place to tuck in their tails, and, for Zane, his wings as well. As Kai helped his friend to adjust his coat to properly hide all the feathers, Nya pulled the sleeves of hers longer down her arms, hiding the light rosette spotting there. She had been able to pass it off as a tattoo before, but they really didn’t want to take any chances, especially not with Lloyd along this time.

Cole began to help Lloyd with his jacket, but the young boy swatted his hands away. “I can do it.”

“You sure, bud? It can be tricky-”

“I do it. I do the buttons.” His ears twitched as he ran his fingers over the smooth objects.

While Lloyd worked on the jacket, the rest of them shoved hats over their heads, Kai, with some difficulty, getting his over his mane, but when they turned back to Lloyd, now sporting his lopsided-buttoned jacket, there was evidently a large issue, and it wasn’t Lloyd’s button job.

“What are we going to do about his tail,” Jay asked. “The rest of us have the self control to hold ours under our coats for the time period, but he’s four, he’s not gonna be able to do that.”

“And it’s so long,” Nya pointed out. “I remember having a lot more trouble with my tail than any of you guys did, and Lloyd’s less than half my size!”

“Didn’t we used to tie it up when you were younger?” Kai asked.

“What?” “Here,” Kai pulled a scarf out of the closet. “C’mere, Lloyd.”

The child bounded over to him, and Kai picked up his tail in his hands, examining it. “Hmm. Flexible enough.” Folding it back on itself a few times, Kai used the scarf to tie it up firmly, and then pulled the coat down over it. “That should hold for quite a while.”

Lloyd bared his teeth at him, and Kai winced. “Sorry, I know it’s not the most comfortable thing, bud, but we got to do it, okay?”

Lloyd started to grab for his tail, but his small arms couldn’t reach it. Kai stopped him, nonetheless. “Hey, bud, don’t. I’m not kidding, okay?”

Lloyd huffed dramatically, before pacing towards the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Lloyd glanced back, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the small hat Kai was holding in his hands. He squwaked loudly, trying to scramble past him, but Kai swooped him up in his grip. Lloyd hissed and struggled, although his body was trembling with the familiar vibrations Kai recognized as playfulness. This was a game to him.

“Lloyd,” Kai growled through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the squirming bundle, “Just put on the hat. It’s not the end of the world.”

“No!”

Well, that was one word he knew quite clearly.

Kai jammed the hat onto his head, but Lloyd quickly shook it off and jumped away, scrambling under the couch to hide, his red eyes glowing eerily in the darkness, his pupils narrowed into thin slits.

“Lloyd,” Kai said, letting an authoritative tone slip into his voice- which wasn’t something to be messed with, when you were part lion. “This is not an option. Either you wear the hat and behave, or we don’t go out at all.”

Lloyd’s eyes blinked, and after only a second, he was scurrying back out and reluctantly letting Kai pull the hat onto his head.

And not a moment too soon- Kai’s ears twitched as he caught the sound of movement behind the big, blocked door. His head whipped towards it, and the others quickly picked up on him, revving their gazes towards the door, too. After a few moments, they began to hear it, too. Jay cocked his head anxiously, Zane adjusted his coat, Cole pushed his glasses further up his nose, and Nya narrowed her eyes, grabbing Lloyd’s hand.

The door slowly swung open- Kai had to resist the urge to dash out- and revealed four of their caretakers- Liam, Noah, Rahn, and Kelsey. Kai let out his breath, slowly.

“Are you ready to leave, children?” One of them, Liam, asked. His gaze flitted between each of them, scanning them carefully. He stopped on Lloyd, his eyes narrowing, but if he had a problem, he didn’t voice it. “You look wonderfully human. A job well done, and not an easy one, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but appearances are only the beginning,” Kelsey pointed out. “You must make sure you are all on your best behavior, especially the muta- Lloyd. You all have learned a lot from your human behavior lessons, have you not?”

They nodded, and Kai added, “Is Dr. Borg not going to see us off today?”

“He’s a very busy person, Kai,” Rahn reminded him. “You children are lucky that he makes as much time for you as he does.”

Kai dipped his head, falling silent.

“Don’t worry, he’ll probably check in with you when you’re back,” Noah assured. “For now, we can escort you. Are you ready?”

Yelps and purrs responded him, and Noah shot them a sharp glance. Kai felt his ears droop shamefully as he responded, in sync with the others, “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s go.�� Noah beckoned for Cole to follow him, who was closely followed by Jay, then Zane. Kai and Nya went last, Lloyd bounding between them. His eyes were both bright and wary.

Rahn cleared his throat as they passed, and Nya bent down to Lloyd, whispering, “Two feet, bud.”

Lloyd grumbled, but obliged, taking his hands off the ground and standing up on just his feet instead. His steps were a little wobbly, so Nya and Kai each grabbed a hand. That made him look a little less grumpy about the situation, at least.

The caretakers led them down the floors of Borg Tower, and for the first time in weeks, Kai saw people, more than just doctors and scientists and caretakers, at least. Employers at Borg, but these ones weren’t the higher up, didn’t know their secret. Wary glances were shot at them, but it was probably just because they were wondering what a bunch of kids were doing in Borg Tower, not because they were secretly a bunch of weird monster mutants that had to hide everything about them because no one trusted them and people wanted to hurt them, and they just wanted to be normal kids-

The point was, it was nice to be looked at like a kid, for once.

And then, there were windows, and then-

They were outside.

The little skylight in their room couldn’t bring justice to this. Sunlight streamed around them, bright and cheery and welcoming, and the crisp autumn air tickled his cheeks. There were people everywhere, not Borg employees, but just regular people, talking and laughing with each other. No one was staring at him, conversing in hushed whispers, or telling him off for smiling too much and showing off his fangs. There weren’t any trainers scolding him, or doctors whisking him off to yet another appointment, and most of all, there weren’t any walls.

Kai felt like he wanted to cry. It wasn’t his first time out, Dr. Borg let them out every so often, but…

It had been way too long.

Although he knew that, however bad it was for him, it was worse for Lloyd. While they got to go out every month or so, Lloyd only rarely got cleared to come with them, and he had only been allowed to at all about a year ago. Dr. Borg said it was because he was too young, although Kai swore that he could remember him and the others going out more often when they had been Lloyd’s age, with adult supervision, of course.

Sure enough, Lloyd’s eyes were as wide as saucers as he gazed around, taking everything in in that quiet, attentive way of his.

“Excited, Lloydster?” Kai asked him. “Wanna go to the mall?”

Borg had given them a fairly sizable chunk of money- after all, being the owner of the city’s largest science organization didn’t exactly leave him with empty pockets- to spend as they pleased (as long as it wasn’t anything too outrageous, and their bags and pockets were to be searched before they reentered the tower,) so they went shopping at the mall. Lloyd obviously wasn’t so enthralled with Macy’s, Barnes & Noble, or Hot Topic, so the ninja took turns with Lloyd while the others went shopping. When Kai was with him, he spent a lot of time going up and down the escalator. Kai was worried the behavior might be unusual among humans and draw attention to them, and although they got a few odd looks, after a little while a little girl named Raina started running up and down the escalator with him. Kai had frantically apologized to her mother, but she just laughed, telling him “kids will be kids!” Kai had allowed himself to give her a tentative smile, and had been reluctant when he had to leave with Lloyd. The woman, Jessica, had given Kai her number if Lloyd ever wanted to get together.

Kai didn’t have the heart to tell her it could never happen.

After they finished shopping, the group stopped for lunch in the food court, then headed to the park and chatted while Lloyd ran around.

The afternoon was peaceful and cool, and it was all too soon when he got the call telling them it was time to go back.

“Hey Lloyd, time to go, bud.”

The look that flitted across Lloyd’s face made his heart break. “Can we… can we come back tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so, bud. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

“We can watch a movie when we get home, bubs. You wanna do that?” There was a shake in Nya’s voice as she spoke, and he knew she hated this as much as he did.

“Can we watch… the one with dinosaurs?”

“We can watch whatever you want, bubs.”

The walk back to Borg Tower was grim and quiet. The silence was only broken when Lloyd pointed at the fountain in the town square, as they were walking past.

“Look!” he called, leaning over the side to peer in. “There’s so many shiny things in there!”

“People throw their coins in fountains,” Zane told him.

“Why? I use my coins to buy a lollipop,” Lloyd giggled.

Kai crouched down next to him. “They say that if you throw a coin in the fountain, you can make a wish.”

Lloyd’s eyes were wide. “A wish? Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything you want, I guess.”

Nya crouched down on the other side of him, slipping a penny from out of her purse. “You want to make a wish, bean?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd took the coin and closed his eyes. He was silent for a moment, before tossing it in. They watched it sink, down, down, down, until it hit the bottom.

On the way home, Jay spoke up. “What did you wish for, bud?”

Lloyd was quiet for a moment.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

---

After their caretakers looked through their bags, they brought the group up to the room. The walk was a quiet one. The unasked question in all of their minds hung on the air- they wanted to ask if Lloyd could stay the night, just this once. The boy had been eerily quiet since the fountain, not even protesting when he had been searched, and Nya was holding him gently in her arms now. He wasn’t asleep, but his eyes stared off into the distance, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Dr. Borg himself met them at their door. “My children! How was your day out? Were you on your best behaviour?”

“You already know,” Nya muttered.

Borg frowned. “What was that, dear?”

“Nothing.”

Kai cocked his head at her, and she gave a tiny shake of her head, her glare telling him, not now.

He stared her right back, the message clear. We’ll talk later.

“It was good, Dr. Borg, but we were just wondering- would it be okay if Lloyd stayed the night with us? He’s pretty tired, and it would just be for one night-”

“Zane, I’m sorry, but Lloyd has a very important doctor’s appointment tonight-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kai caught Lloyd stiffen, gripping tighter to Nya’s shoulder. A low growl sounded in her throat, and she brought her hands up protectively around him.

“Another doctor, Borg?” Kai snapped. “That’s the third one this week. Is there something wrong with him? Something you’re not telling us?”

“Of course not! Kai, calm yourself. What reason do I have to hide Lloyd’s medical records from you? Nothing is wrong, we just want to do some more testing. As you know, we give you all frequent checkups so that our doctors may learn more about you and your bodies. Lloyd is even more unique than any of you, so unfortunately, that just means more appointments.”

“He’s not a test subject,” Nya growled, “He’s family.”

“I never said he was! He is just as much family to me as he is to you!” Borg’s voice softened. “Nya, I know you are protective, but I am doing this for Lloyd. Knowing his body better will help us to help him better in the future, if he is to ever get sick or something.”

Nya wilted. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I know you mean well. Now, c’mon, Lloyd, it’s time to go.”

Lloyd wailed as Borg’s assistant tried to pull him away from Nya, and he clung to her as firmly as his fingers would allow, which, for someone of his genetics, was pretty tight. Eventually, Kai had to step in.

“Lloyd, please. Let go. We’re just trying to help you.”

Lloyd released Nya’s shoulder slowly, but his eyes were round and hurt as he gazed at Kai. He tried not to flinch. Lloyd didn’t understand that this was for his own good.

Kai didn’t really understand it, either.

The group filed into their room- the door locking with a sharp click behind them- and the others wandered off to do their own things. Jay flipped through the TV channels, not settling on anything for more than ten seconds, and Cole and Zane worked on a puzzle, although their progress was slow, and their heart didn’t seem to really be into it.

Kai, however, made no time for pointless hobbies, and headed over to Nya.

“We need to talk.”

“I agree. But not in here.” She pointed towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

He followed her in, closing the door behind him, before heading to sit next to her on her bed. “What’s so important that the others can’t hear?”

“It’s not that they can’t hear it. It’s just… I don’t know if they’ll want to. I don’t know how everyone’s going to take it, and I think it’s best to not tell everyone all at once.”

“What?! Nya, you’re killing me, just tell me what’s going on!”

“Someone was following me.”

Kai froze. “What?”

“If I’m right, someone was following all of us.”

“You mean in the city today? Like, a stalker or someone?”

“More like a Borg employee.”

“...What?”

“They’re spying on us, Kai, don’t you see? Dr. Borg sent some of our caretakers out to monitor us today. It’s their own fault, really. If they hadn’t trained me to use my detection skills to their full potential, I never would’ve noticed them.”

“But why? What have we done to break Dr. Borg’s trust? We’ve done this before and never got caught, why would today be any different?

Nya narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be dense, Kai. He’s been doing it since day one. We’ve just never noticed before.”

Kai was beginning to feel very uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking. “How do you know that? Do you have proof?”

“Proof!” Nya stood up suddenly, her eyes blazing so fiercely that Kai flinched back. “What about any given day over the last sixteen years of my life, or the eighteen of yours! We’re prisoners here, Kai. One day a month outside of the tower doesn’t change that, especially when we’re being monitored even then.”

“Nya, don’t get like this again. Dr. Borg saved our lives-”

“From what? He tells us that people want to kill us, but do we have any reason to believe that’s true? What if he’s lying? How do you know he’s not just using us?”

“Dr. Borg is the closest thing I have to family! I trust him. With people like that, you just know.”

Nya’s ears pinned back, her voice wavering. “What happened to this family? True family is always there for you. Jay, Cole, Zane, Lloyd… me… we’ve all done more for you than that old fool ever has.”

Kai flinched, immediately regretting his words. “Wait, Nya, I didn’t mean- of course you’re my family, I’m sorry-” he snatched for her wrist as she began to walk away, but she easily dodged. She turned to look at him, her eyes sad.

“I know you are. You don’t want to hurt anyone- you’re just doing what you think is right, and I get that. But come talk to me again when you’re ready to reconsider.”

---

The next day, Kai had fighting training with one of his trainers. She seemed to be working him especially hard, but he only worked harder, and when he stopped for a rest, it took a moment to calm the adrenaline rippling through his veins. He had always been much stronger than the average human, but… usually it wasn’t so hard to control.

Dr. Borg showed up later in the lesson to pull him aside. “Kai. Your trainer tells me you are doing well. This pleases me. You are growing stronger.”

“I’m trying my best, sir.”

“Good. I expect nothing less. You’re eighteen now, Kai. Officially into adulthood. Soon, you will enter into a noble line of work I have to offer you. Now is no time to hold back. In fact- and keep this between you and me, if you will- I think you have the greatest potential of all your peers. What beast is greater than the lion? They don’t call it the king of the jungle for no reason. Your strength will be unmatched.”

Kai felt like he was supposed to be pleased by that, but something about the words just felt wrong.

“Sir,” he interrupted, feeling the sudden need to ask something, “What… why do I need to learn to fight like this? Who will I be fighting?” “If all goes well, no one. But this is necessary to defend yourself. Like I have told you since you were a cub, the rest of the world wants to hunt you down. You deserve a way to fight for your life and honor- and for the… weaker members of your team, don’t you?”

Kai nodded. “Of course. I was just wondering… is that all it’s for? Self-defence? Nothing more?”

Borg narrowed his eyes, but nodded slowly. “You will only have to do what must be done.”

“…Alright. Thank you, sir.” “And Kai?”

“Yes?” “If Nya’s been putting ideas in your head again, don’t listen to her. I know she means well, but she’s going through that natural ‘teenage rebellion’ stage right now, and isn’t thinking straight. Just take my word for it, alright?”

“O-okay. Have a good evening, sir.”

“Train hard!”

As Kai trodded back to the room that evening, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Borg had said. His words had been so vague. And he had been so quick to accuse Nya! Did he mean what he said, or was Nya right?

Did Borg want to use him for something more?

He still didn’t know what to believe, but one thing he knew was that he didn’t like the way that his sister had immediately been blamed. She had always been the most reluctant to listen to Borg, the most upset about their situation, but he wasn’t going to let Borg do anything to her, if that’s where this was heading.

His thoughts were interrupted as the floor suddenly heaved beneath him, and Kai was knocked to his feet. He barely bit back a scream, his breath coming in shallow pants.

What was it? An earthquake? He had never felt an earthquake before. Oh gosh. Should he be doing something? Was he going to die?!

But as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Kai got to his feet, breathless. After he was sure the floor wasn’t going to collapse beneath him, he set off towards the room in a dead sprint.

“Guys,” he gasped, “Did you feel that?”

Jay glanced up from his phone. “Like, that weird tremor thing, you mean?”

“Tremor? It was way worse than a tremor, the ground, like, bounced beneath me!” He gave a demonstration of this with his hands, but the others just blinked at him, unimpressed. “What?”

Cole shrugged. “I dunno, maybe you were just closer to the source or something. It didn’t seem that bad to us.”

“Do earthquakes even have sources?”

“First of all,” Zane said, “they do, and second, Ninjago City doesn’t get earthquakes. The geographic location makes it literally impossible.”

“But you can’t tell me that was nothing.” His voice wavered, and he caught Nya frown.

“You serious about this, bro?”

“I dunno, it’s just…” he put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what happened. It frickin’ scared me.”

Nya rested a hand on his shoulder, at his side now. “Hey, everything’s okay now. You’re safe here.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to call Borg? I’m sure he can tell us what’s going on.”

“Thanks.”

Nya dialed, and they waited for Borg to answer. He didn’t pick up until the last ring, which was unusual for him. When his voice did come through, it was harried and distracted.

“What is it, Nya?”

“Dr. Borg, Kai was just coming back from training and he felt this weird… earthquake-type-tremor thing. We were just worried. Is everything alright?”

“Oh? Ah, yes, don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe-'' there was some muffled yelling in the background, and the phone went quiet for a minute. “There’s nothing to worry about, we’ve got it under control-”

“But what was it?”

“We’re… uh, still investigating. Maybe some sort of malfunction in the machinery, or radiation leak or something.”

“Radiation?”

“I assure you dear, it’s fine, we’ve got a whole crew on top of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of in the middle of something-”

“What about Lloyd?” Kai asked, leaning over to speak into the phone. “Is he okay?”

“Lloyd… Lloyd’s fine.”

“Can we see him?”

“No,” Borg said quickly. “...he’s seeing people right now. Will be for a while, probably, so don’t even ask.”

By this time, the others had joined them at the phone too, and they all looked at each other at that. “Seeing people?” Nya asked. “What kind of people?”

“Just… double-checking his safety. For… the radiation.”

“Was he close to it?” Nya gasped. “I thought you said he was safe!”

“He is! It’s just a precaution-”

“Then when can we see him?”

“Nya, I told you, not now!” Another muffled shout interrupted him. “I have a lot bigger fish to fry right now, this conversation will have to continue later.” And, with that, he abruptly hung up.

“What was that,” Nya spat.

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed miserably.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be like that, did I? Ugh, Borg always is so vague, but this- this is a whole new level!”

“We need to find out more,” Zane said. “Borg isn’t giving us clear answers. We need another way to find out information.”

“Luckily for us,” Cole added, “It seems that in all the commotion, they never sent a caretaker down to lock the door after Kai returned.”

The others froze, staring at each other. Slowly, they turned their gazes to the door.

Cole was right. It was still open.

Kai immediately felt his heart begin to race. He didn’t know how to react. This had never happened before.

Zane was the first to snap out of the shock and into action. “Borg is a careful man. It won’t be long before he realizes we have free reign of the place. If we’re going to do something, we need to act quickly.”

“I say we escape,” Nya hissed. “This might never happen again. Kai’s the only one who knows this, but I saw Borg employees following us yesterday. He’s always watching. This could be our only chance to get out of here!”

There were a few uneasy looks at that. “Nya,” Zane warned, “Borg may be secretive, but he’s not a bad person. He’s protecting us.”

“Yeah, and what about the police?” Jay whimpered, his tail between his legs. “Borg told us they would kill us just for being different.”

Nya’s tail lashed. “You all are hopeless! The old fool’s got you all wrapped around his little finger! Can’t you see we’re prisoners here? I’d rather take my chances with the police.”

“Nya,” Cole said firmly, squeezing Jay’s hand, “You’re making Jay nervous.”

“I’m sorry, Jay, but it’s the truth. You’re seventeen now, it’s about time you start hearing it.”

Jay’s ears quivered. “It’s okay, Cole, she’s right.”

Cole grunted. “If we’re doing this, I won’t let no police lay a finger on you.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I dunno. I’ve never really felt comfortable with Borg. But we’re also safe here. I want to protect you guys. I don’t know if freedom is worth the risk.”

“Well, we don’t have time to think about it. Zane’s right- if we have to act, we act now. I’m going- come or don’t.”

“Nya, come back,” Cole growled. “We’re a family. Whatever we do, we do together. I don’t want us splitting up.”

“Then do the right thing and come with me.”

The tension crackled between the two for a moment, until Cole ducked his head. “Nya-”

“Kai, you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

Four pairs of eyes turned towards him. Kai’s tail twitched, and he tried desperately to still it.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do, Nya. But I’m not leaving without Lloyd.”

Guilt flashed in her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean… of course I would never leave without him, I just didn’t even think… we can go get him, right?”

“Do you know where he is?”

Nya’s tail drooped. “Then what do we do?”

“Zane’s right- what we need is more information. Running away isn’t the answer.”

“Kai- can you just think about it-”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he roared. “I’ve spent eighteen long years locked away in this room- don’t you think I want to leave, too? But this is about more than just me- this is about us. I have a family to protect, Nya, and this is the best way to keep them safe.”

Nya cringed back from him- something any sane person would do when a lion- or a half lion- was yelling in your face. He didn’t like to use it on his family often, but when he did, it was the quickest way to silence a room. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with a lion’s roar.

“So what are you going to do instead?” Jay asked quietly, after a moment.

“I’m going to go find Borg and listen in on what he’s doing.” Turning to his sister, he added, “Nya? Will you come with me? Your stealth will be useful.”

“You still want me?”

“Don’t be like that, Nya- I’m just doing what’s best for us. You get that, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“So you’re not coming?”

“No, I’ll come. I’m just still upset with you, that’s all.”

Kai sighed as she whisked out the door past him. “You guys keep a lookout, alright? I’ll have my phone on silent so we don’t get caught, but I’ll be able to feel it vibrate, so shoot me a text if something happens, alright?”

“Good luck,” Zane nodded.

“Hurry back!” Jay called as Kai slipped into the hallway.

He bounded a little ways to catch up with Nya. They walked in silence for a little while until they made it back to Kai’s training room, where he had felt the tremor.

“Smell anything?” Nya asked.

“Jay’s the best tracker, but I think I can pick up Borg’s scent coming from that way.” He pointed a finger down the right hallway.

“Think?” “I don’t know. There’s a lot of foot traffic coming from that way as well.”

“Surely that’s a good sign. If there was some sort of catastrophe, a lot of people would have gone to help.”

“Yeah, but it’s strange. It mostly smells like caretakers and trainers. I would’ve thought Borg would’ve wanted more mechanics and doctors if there was a malfunction.”

“Unless he was trying to keep this a secret.”

Kai shot her a look, and she ducked his gaze. “Sorry.”

Kai shook his head, turning back towards the trail, letting Nya slink down the hallways ahead of him, checking that the coast was clear before he followed. He pointed her in the directions that the scent led, until, at last, it led to a door.

“Borg’s office?” Nya questioned. “His scent will be here all the time. Are you sure that he’s here now, or is it just leftover residue?”

Kai opened his mouth to respond, but froze when he caught the sound of footsteps. “Hide!” he hissed to Nya, and the two of them dove into an empty lab room and pulled the door shut, just as two pairs of footsteps rounded the corner. They came to a halt outside the office door, and Kai held his breath.

“What do you mean you can’t control him, that’s your job!” Borg’s voice, sharp and angry. The rooms in this part of the building were soundproofed, but Kai’s hearing could still detect their voices when he pushed his ear to the door. Nya hovered beside him anxiously, watching his face for signs.

“Sir, we’re doing everything we can, but we’ve never worked with a specimen like this before.”

“Borg,” he whispered to Nya, “and a researcher.”

“Tell me you at least have him contained?”

“He’s chained and isolated right now, sir. And under guard.”

“Did you tell him that we’d punish the others if he stepped out of line?”

“Yes, sir. He’s young, and seems to have some literacy issues, so we’re not sure if he got the entire message, but we believe we got the basic point across.”

“Good,” Borg sighed. “Hopefully that will be enough to stop him from trying anything like this again.”

“Sir, surely you’re not just going to let him stay. People could’ve died today!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Borg snapped. “Seven of my best researchers have been hospitalized, and now the damn police are on our back and I could get sued. I could lose millions, you know that? And to make things worse, the kids called me and are trying to see him. They suspect something’s wrong.”

Kai’s blood was roaring in his ears. Was he hearing this right?

Nya put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What did they say?”

He shook his head, gesturing at her to be quiet. “They think Lloyd was the one responsible for the accident. People were hurt. Borg might get sued.”

“Would it really be such a bad thing to let him see them, sir? He obviously is very on edge about the testing and sampling. Seeing the others might put him at ease.”

“They’re already suspicious, and I can’t help but feel I’m losing my grip on them. They’re teenagers, I knew they’d rebel at some point, but… I don’t want to risk him telling them anything. Now that he has power over us, I’m not sure what good the threats will do.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

Borg sighed, slow and tired. “I had hoped it would never come to this, but… I think we bit off more than we could chew with this one. And he’s only four, it will only get worse as he ages. I don’t think we will ever be able to put a handle on him. I had hope, after such great success with the others, but… it just didn’t work out. Breeding oni and dragon and trying to contain it was always going to be a bad idea.”

“Are you sure, sir? There’s no going back if you decide to go through with it.”

“I’ve thought about it for a while now, and today’s accident has only solidified my suspicions. We will still be fine. The others have amazing amounts of strength, speed, stealth, and heightened senses. We can be well-equipped without him.”

“Alright. We will begin making preparations first thing, sir.”

“Make sure you keep the body so we can continue to study it. I want him euthanized first thing in the morning. The longer we wait, the more of a window we give him to act up again.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Kai squeezed his eyes shut, slumping against the door as the door to Borg’s office was clicked shut. This couldn’t be happening, it was just some sort of sick dream, Borg would never do this-

“Kai, Kai please, answer me!”

He opened his eyes to see Nya shaking him gently.

“You were right,” he croaked, “we have to go.”

“Kai, what’s wrong, what did you hear, you’re scaring me.”

Kai stumbled to his feet, and Nya grabbed his arm as he trembled. There was no time to sit around and mope. Lloyd’s life was on the line.

“Nya, we have to go-” he reached for the doorknob and began to twist it.

“Wait, are you sure they’re gone, we can’t get caught-”

“I’m sure, we have to hurry-”

Nya skidded in front of him. “Kai, tell me what’s going on. I need to know what happend. I can help!”

“There’s no time, Nya,” he gasped, half in tears by this point. “I’ll tell you later. I’m going after Lloyd. You go and get the others. Meet me near that little diner at the edge of the city. The one we went to for your birthday last year, you know the one? We’re leaving. Now.”

“Wait, you mean you changed your mind?”

“No. I told you that I was going to do whatever it took to keep you guys safe. Before, that meant staying here. Now, it means leaving. It is the circumstance that has changed, not me.”

Nya gazed at him, tears glazing her eyes. “I wish you would tell me more.”

“I still need time to process. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. Just stay safe, okay?” She kissed him softly on the cheek, and then, she was gone.

Kai didn’t waste any time, and set right off on the researcher’s trail. Eventually, it led him to a small, closed off wing, where she had then taken a right, but Kai was more interested in the room on the left.

Two guards, armed with guns, stood attentive at it. Kai shifted into a lion, and, trying to remember stalking lessons from Nya, crept along the hallway. If they spotted him before he was within pouncing distance, he was done for. They wouldn’t hesitate with the guns, he was sure.

Luckily, Nya was an amazing teacher, and as one guard fell to the ground with a smack, the other one turned sharply, raising his gun, but Kai was already pouncing, knocking him out.

Shifting back into himself, he grabbed the keys from the guard’s pocket, and unlocked the door.

Inside, the lights were dim. Kai wished he had Nya’s night vision right about now.

When his eyes finally adjusted, Kai choked back a gasp. Lloyd was lying on the floor, chains bolted around his wrists, ankles, and tail. Metal clamps pulled back his wings, and a muzzle had been tied over his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Lloyd-” Kai dropped to his side, trying not to look at the boy’s face. Blinking back tears- emotion was something they didn’t have time for right now- Kai ripped through the chains and pulled off the muzzle and clamps. Lloyd whimpered, looking up at him with watery red eyes, and reached for him, cooing softly. Kai scooped the boy into his arms, accidentally pulling back his shirt as he did so, and revealing a long, raw, red scar along his side. Kai quickly pulled the shirt back down, looking away, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Bolting to his feet, he took off down the hall, towards the back door.

After only a minute of running, an alarm began to flash, and Kai swore under his breath, praying that the others were already out.

After what felt like far too long, he spotted the door. As he sprinted for it, he heard someone yell out behind him, but it was too late. He was already out the door.

He didn’t stop though. He wasn’t stupid enough to think they would give up chase so easily. Heading down some of the back alleys, he ran in a crisscross of crazy patterns, taking a way which was five times longer and more complicated than necessary, but he wasn’t risking the chance of being caught, or worse, leading the Borg employees back to Nya and the others.

When he began to feel a little safer, he stopped for a rest behind a dumpster. Setting Lloyd down, he checked his phone and saw he had twenty-seven missed calls from Borg.

Shoot, he can probably track this. Cursing under his breath, he tossed the phone in the dumpster. He didn’t like being phoneless, but it was a thousand times better than the alternative.

Lloyd’s stomach growled loudly, and Kai glanced down at him. The boy looked smaller than ever, his red eyes wide and scared. Kai crouched down, pulling his trembling form close, and the two just sat there for a moment, silent. Kai breathed in Lloyd’s comforting scent.

I almost lost this. Forever.

Kai wiped at his eyes. But he hadn’t. And they weren’t safe yet. They had to keep moving, and get as far away from that phone as possible.

But first, he had to find the poor kid something to eat. He looked half-dead on his feet, and Kai felt a surge of anger as he realized that Borg probably hadn’t been feeding him well.

Jumping into the dumpster, Kai scrounged around until he was able to find half of a cheeseburger and a stale bag of pretzels. Not the most sanitary, but it would have to do.

“Here, bud, you want these?” He handed the food to Lloyd, and either the boy was really, really hungry, or his animal instincts were just kicking in, because he scarfed down the food without any reservation about the fact that Kai had literally dumpster dove for it.

As Lloyd finished the food, licking the wrapper, he spoke for the first time since Kai had found him chained up that evening.

“Am I in trouble?” His voice wavered, tears pricking his eyes. “Did I do a bad thing?”

“Honey, no, it’s not your fault,” Kai whispered, pulling him close. “You didn’t mean to do it. Your powers are too strong for your own good. But you’ll learn to control them eventually, I promise.”

“People are hurt,” he whispered. “I’m the reason we had to go.”

“You just opened my eyes to what Borg was doing to you. To his true intentions. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Lloyd looked at him. “He told me he would kill you.”

Kai bit his lip, and Lloyd broke down crying in his lap. Kai curled his arms protectively around him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let you go through that all these years and didn’t notice something was wrong.”

Lloyd buried his face in Kai’s shirt. “I just want to be normal.”

---

Lloyd fell asleep soon after that, and Kai carried him towards the meeting place. The walk was long, about two hours, but with every moment that passed, Kai was more and more grateful that he had picked somewhere far away. He was exhausted, and if Borg’s associates found him now, he was in no position to fight back.

It felt like heaven when he finally spotted the little diner in the distance, with its gleaming lights offering a cheery glow to the foreboding dusk. Reluctantly shaking Lloyd awake, he took off his hat and coat and helped Lloyd put them on to carefully mask his monster features. Since Kai hadn’t had time to grab extra, he fluffed up his hair extra (something he hadn’t ever thought he’d do, it was fluffy enough as-is) to cover his ears, and tucked his tail into his pants.

The little bell on the diner door rang cheerily as they pushed their way in. At this time of night, the diner was empty, as expected- but there was one booth in the corner where four people were sitting, eating what looked to be pancakes and bacon. They looked up sharply as the bell rung, and Nya stood up abruptly, meeting his eye.

“Kai,” she cried, running over to him as tears sprung in her eyes. “Oh my goodness, oh my spots, oh my goodness.” She threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder as he squeezed her just as tightly back. “You’re alive, thank the stars you’re alive, I thought I had lost you for good.”

“I’m just as relieved to see you guys,” Kai breathed, walking over to the booth. Although it was only intended to seat four, his friends squished over to make room for him, and he scooped Lloyd onto his lap.

“Kai, what took you so long, you had me worried out of my mind,” Nya muttered, stopping to take a breath and sip from her coffee. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Sorry, we got a little held up. We got caught escaping, and were followed. I spent a good hour, at least, trying to throw them. I wasn’t going to risk leading them anywhere.”

“You could’ve at least texted me, letting me know you were alright. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”

“I ditched my phone. Speaking of which, you guys probably should too. I wouldn’t be surprised if Borg had a way to track these things.”

“Get rid of our phones?” Jay whimpered. “How are we going to communicate if there’s an emergency?”

“Would you rather us get caught?” Kai snapped. “We can just buy some of those burner phones from the store.”

“Kai, I think you owe us an explanation,” Cole growled. “We’re tired, hungry, scared, and don’t know why we’re here. Nya told us you overheard Borg saying something, but wouldn’t tell her what he said, and just said to run. Are you going to give us any more than that?”

“I’m sorry, but I was just so scared, and there was no time…” He took a shaky breath, drawing an arm around Lloyd and pulling him closer. In a whisper, he admitted, “Borg was going to kill Lloyd.”

The table lapsed into a stunned silence. Even Nya, who had always been heavily critical and suspicious of Borg, looked shocked and horrified.

“When?” Zane asked faintly.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Cole paled about ten shades, Jay looked like he was going to faint, and Zane just stared as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“One more day,” Nya whispered. “One more day and we would’ve lost him.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kai told her, his breath hitching as he tried to focus on the weight on his lap- warm, gentle, and alive. He was here. He had saved him.

“I don’t understand,” Jay whined. “Why would he do such a thing? I mean, I know we all had our suspicions, but… kill him? Really? What changed?”

“Remember all those ‘doctor’s visits?’ Apparently they’re some sort of testing, or sampling, or something. Show them the scar, Lloyd.”

The boy looked up at him hesitantly, before slowly pulling up his jacket and shirt to reveal the long scar Kai had seen earlier. Four sharp intakes of breath sounded as it came into view.

“Oh, Lloyd, honey,” Nya whispered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what they were doing at our doctor’s appointments, too, but for some reason they are really obsessed with Lloyd. Something about his lineage, I guess… but it was too much for him. He…”

Kai glanced at Lloyd, who was nibbling at the bacon Cole had slipped him. He didn’t seem too invested in the conversation, but he still kept his voice low.

“That tremor we felt? Apparently, Lloyd caused it. People were injured, and… the police came to investigate… Borg was furious. He decided Lloyd had caused more trouble than he was worth. Lloyd was chained and muzzled when I found him, and I… I couldn’t… I wouldn’t deny it any longer. Borg doesn’t care about us. He never has. He’s just using us.”

Silence gripped the table as his friends stared at him. Jay wiped at his eyes, which were bright and wet.

“What do we do now, Kai?” Nya asked, her voice barely audible.

“What do we do? We survive. You got some money, I hope?”

“We’ve been stashing it. Any time Borg gave us money on an outing that we didn’t use, we kept it. We brought everything we could find. And a few valuable items as well. We can sell them if we need to. Hopefully this will last us a while, if we stick to the necessities.”

“Good. Because we’re going to need every penny we can get. I have no idea how long we’ll have to be out here.”

“As long as Borg is hunting us, nowhere is safe,” Cole warned. “He’s got amasses of people at his disposal. I don’t know where we’re going to go that he can’t reach.”

“I know a place.”

---

“Are w-we al-almost there, K-k-kai,” Nya hissed, her teeth chattering. “I’m freezing.”

“We’re here.”

Jay stopped beside him. “An old warehouse?” “Hey, I remember this place,” Cole said, stepping up beside him. Lloyd was fast asleep in his arms- he had been out cold before they had even left the diner, and when Kai had tried to carry him, Cole had told him off, saying he had already done more than his fair share for the night, and that he ought to give someone else a turn before he keeled over from exhaustion. Kai was grateful for the gesture, although they still had needed to walk another hour to get to his destination.

“When we were younger, Cole and I used to take a bus down here sometimes on our days out to play around in this abandoned warehouse.” Jay raised his eyebrow, and Cole laughed. “When you’re a twelve year old boy, those kinds of things sound a lot cooler than they actually are. Still, I’m grateful you thought of it now. Who would’ve thought, when everyone else failed us, it’s the old warehouse that held through.”

“It’s nothing special,” Kai said as they tramped inside, “but it’s sheltered, it’s sturdy, and, most important of all, it’s unsuspecting. I doubt Borg would ever think to look here.”

“It’s perfect, Kai,” Nya sniffed, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me,” Kai sighed, lowering himself onto the ground and wincing at the ache in his back. “I was the one who kept trying to convince you that the child-murdering psychopath actually cared about us.”

“It’s not your fault, Kai. Borg tricked all of us. If it weren’t for your jump into action, we’d have lost our baby brother.”

“I just can’t stop thinking,” he whimpered, squeezing Nya’s hand tighter, and watching Lloyd from where Cole cradled him across the room, stroking him gently, “what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten there in time, or if I had decided to stay back in our room.”

“You can’t spend time dwelling on the past, Kai. You didn’t do those things, and everything worked out- well, as best as we could ask for, at least. You have to have more faith in yourself. We’re scared and confused, and we’re looking to you. I know that’s not fair, that you’re struggling just as much as any of us, but it’s the way things are. We need someone strong, like you, to keep us going.”

“I want to protect you guys, and keep you safe, more than anything else in the world. But I’m lost. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t do this alone.”

“Oh, Kai. No one would ever ask you to do anything alone. Whatever happens next, we’re all right here.”

#ninjago #NinjagoInhumanAuWeek #For the Romping and the Roaring #R&R #Part 1 #rosie writes #ugghhh guys i pounded this out in like four days and i am exhausted #i should've started writing for the event earlier #the amount of writing ive done in the last two weeks is insane #i'm lowkey gonna have burnout after this lol #my fic

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years

Text

Observer not Profiler END

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of therapy, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, paranoia, anxious tics

A/N: This is the final chapter loves!

Even a year later you had to deal with anxiety, anxious tics, paranoia, and your past, but Spencer was by your side the whole time. He helped you to accept your anxiety, and he came with you to every therapy session you had, waiting in a separate room while you spoke with a young woman.

You constantly worried about Spencer leaving you for all of your mood swings, but he constantly reassured you that he could never. He truly loved you.

And as he promised to you, he was taking things slowly, making sure everything he did was okay. Because some days, you couldn’t stand being touched or coddled, the feeling was suffocating, other days, you needed him to be holding you every hour of the day.

You don’t know what you did to deserve him, or anyone on the team. They were so patient with you.

“Y/L/N. My office please?”

You looked to Hotch, who stepped into his office again. Turning to Morgan, who you were just joking around with, you both shrugged. But you went to his office nonetheless, preparing to be told off for drinking all of the coffee.

“If this is about the coffee, it wasn’t me.”

You stopped speaking at the sight of two young women, they had to be your age.

Y/BF/N and Hope.

“Oh my god guys!”

You laughed in excitement, bum-rushing them in a hug, which they gladly returned. You swayed in the hug, feeling their giddiness seep into your skin.

“Oh my god you guys! What are you two doing here? I thought I would never see you again!”

They had tears streaming down their faces, you did too. Hotch quickly explained that he remembered they had never held up their end of the deal when you joined, so he had Penelope search endlessly for your friends. He left the office, letting you be alone with your friends.

“So we’re really sorry for putting you on the run like that, we didn’t mean to!”

You burst out in laughter, waving your hands around furiously.

“No no no, it’s fine guys. I don’t blame you at all!”

The three of you continued to catch up with each other. Apparently they hadn’t seen each other in two years. They had gone through a lot of interviews with the government to try and find out where you were, but they said nothing.

Later in the evening, you were back at your apartment with Spencer, cuddling on the couch while Dr. Who re-runs play on the T.V. Your apartment was much more personalized now. You had your walls painted a light blue grey color, pictures and plants on the walls, cluttered counters as well.

“I’m glad I got to see them again, They really haven’t changed much.”

You smile against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh yeah? What did you talk about?”

“You mainly. I told them all about how you make me feel. They said we should just start planning a wedding already. I told them that I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And that’s when Spencer knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. That same week he made several phone calls to a few people, Mainly Hotch and Rossi.

And about a month later, you were having another very rough day. You wanted nothing more than to be in Spencer’s arms at home, but you had so many files to take care of.

You finish up another file before standing and walking to the coffee table, where Spencer and Hotch were speaking. They quickly stiffen up as you walk over, Spencer wraps his arms around your waist and sets a careful kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Hey baby, want me to make you some coffee?”

You nod at his offer, letting him go and sparking a random conversation with Hotch about Jack. You loved the idea of having kids, and you’ve actually babysat Jack and Henrey a lot. They were both really funny and adorable. They kind of made you want some of your own.

Spencer handed you the coffee cup which you sipped on gratefully, leaning your head on his chest.

But mid-sip, Spencer just flips your entire day around.

He holds a shiny diamond ring in front of you, before speaking in a low voice.

“Will you marry me?”

Which led to you sitting behind your eldest son, brushing through his knotted curly hair. You had to reach forward a bit, it’s hard to reach over your pregnant belly.

“Mama, is papa making dinner?”

You smile at the young 5 year old.

“Yes, he should be done by the time I finish your hair, but he does also have the twins to deal with so the house might burn down.”

The small boy with curly wavy hair gasps as you laugh. You lift him up, carrying him down the stair to see Spencer holding both the twins while struggling to cook.

“Spence, you should have told me the twins were up!”

You set your oldest son in front of his toys, quickly taking the tiny babies from Spencer’s tired arms. He had a sweaty smile on his face as he continued to stir the Miso soup.

“You know, as soon as this baby comes, we’re gonna be working overtime.”

“Just get Morgan over here, force him to take care of them and tell him he owes us for something.”

You laughed at his joking tone, cradling the babies in your lap before setting them in their cribs before going out to the porch to set the table. The air was crisp and chilly, nipping at your skin.

Spencer came out with your son, sitting him in his seat and putting a spoon in his small bowl of soup.

You loved this moment, your twins were safe and sound in their cribs, your son eating a piece of tofu, a little girl on her way, and the love of your life, Dr. Spencer Reid smiling a smile that could light up the world, right next to your side ready to fight it all.

“I love you.”

You spoke, not towards anyone in particular, just generally.

You finally felt safe. You could finally live without looking over your shoulder.

end

@imsuperawkward @ithinkilovetruecrimetoomuch @l0ve-0f-my-life @hopebaker @thatsonezesty13 @nightlygiggless @aberrant-annie @holybatflapexpert @spencerreidisbootiful @april-14-blog @jackryan-plz @kalebtheo @ajwantsapancake @lightswriting @emilouu @yourmisosoup @lizziebritish @101donuts @rainsong01 @pretty-boy-genius @squirrellover1967 @gublerstyles @delievia @boxofsparklingmuses @annestine @baby-i-am-fireproof @allthedumbassfandoms @irjuejjsaa @zhangyixingxing1 @madcrazy50 @maryhuffxoxo @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @officialbogbody @m3lly-x @dark-night-sky-99 @eu-solidao @thupidalethea @bad-idea-personified @random-thoughts-003 @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @boiled-onionrings @polywitcheyes @bxbyspxncer @snitchthewitch @yoruebeautiful @blablasomethingblabla @zhangyixingxing1 @etherealgubler @valkyrie-5583 @peaxhyjaes

A/N: That’s the end! My new series Sinfully Sweet will be out soon, so if you would like to be added to the taglist just let me know! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #derek morgan #david rossi #bau x reader #bau #jennifer jareau

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vaire-gwir · 3 years

Text

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt.

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck!

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier." Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher fandom #the witcher fic #geralt/jaskier #sad jaskier #heartbroken jaskier #fanfiction #quarantine writing

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Reaction to S/o Comforting Them

They Get Hate and Their S/o Comforts them.

A/n: Not requested and I really did not expect this to be so long but I just really wanted to go with this idea especially since its a serious topic

Bangchan:

The takeout bags were starting to become heavy in your hands. They were quite light at the bottom of the apartment building’s stairs but now almost ten steps away from your door on the fifth floor, they felt like ten-ton cement bricks. Thankfully you had remembered not to lock your door since you were going far and your boyfriend, Chan, was still home. “Chris! Chris, I’m back! I got you spicy chicken!” You called into your apartment.

When you left Chan was doing a Vlive, but he should have ended by now. There was no answer. The two of you had converted the guest room into an office for Chan, but when you opened the door he was nowhere to be found. “Chris?” Nothing. He wasn’t in the living room or in the kitchen. Maybe he went to change? So, you ventured into your shared bedroom. He was nowhere to be seen.

The door to your bedroom patio was open, however. Walking out, you saw Chan sitting on the loveseat you had outside. He was staring at his hands, his hair blowing in the breeze. “Baby, it’s cold. Why don’t you come in? I’ve got food from-” It was then you noticed the look on his face.

“Chan, love, what’s wrong?”

Exhausted, Chan ran a hand over his tired face and through his curly hair. “Nothing. I’m just- I’m in my own head. I saw this comment on Vlive and...I’m fine. Just tired.” You shook your head and sat next to him. “No. It’s not fine. You are obviously not okay.” Chris shrugged before looking up at the sky. “It’s really not a big deal.” He tried to shrug it off and give me a small smile, but we both knew it was fake. “Okay...You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, love.” Instead, you wrapped and arm around his shoulder pulling him down so his head rested in your lap. He didn’t fight your motion, relaxing as your fingers raked through his hair.

You knew Chan would tell you eventually. You just closed your eyes and focused on taking care of Chan and making him feel better. An hour had maybe passed and Chan still lay in your lap.

“It was just one comment. It was so stupid that it got to me,” Chan said breaking the silence. Chan looked like he was about to cry. He held back the tears and instead reached for your other hand that was resting on his chest. “Go kill yourself and your team members. Your shitty music isn’t worth anything anyway.” Your movements froze.

Looking down you saw Chan fully focused on your fingers. You had dealt with hate. You were very familiar with it ever since you had begun dating Chan almost a year and a half ago. You knew he had anti-fans. It was no secret that out of all the members, Chan got some of the most and worst hate. But, this was cruel on a different level.

“Chan, I don’t know what to say...” He sighed, playing with your fingers. “If you did know what to say I’d be surprised.” You settled for playing with his hair once more, hoping that it would help. “This is more than enough. You just being here. You always seem to show up when I need you the most, Y/n.” He sighed and closed his eyes, further relaxing in your company. “Well, I love you, Chan. I’m always going to show up.”

Minho:

Your boyfriend was feeling really upset lately. The boys were prepping for a huge stage and Minho was going to do a solo performance as a transition. He had been spending all his time in the practice room rehearsing. You knew JYP was putting a lot of pressure on him and Minho was also stressed because BTS was confirmed to attend the award show. He didn’t want to fail in front of his old sunbaenims.

Jisung gave you a hug as you walked down the hall. He had called you earlier and asked you to come to bring Minho some food. Apparently, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. As usual, Minho was blasting music in the practice room. He was alone and dancing in the middle of the room. Patiently you waited for him to finish before setting down the food and approaching him.

“Hey, baby! I brought you dinner.” Minho gave you a half-assed smile. “Thanks.” He was dripping in sweat so you walked over to his bag and grabbed the towel he kept in there. “Why don’t you take a break? Have something to eat.” He shook his head and wiped his face and neck. “I can’t- I’ve got to keep working.”

Your boyfriend walked back over to the stereo turning on the music. This wasn’t like him. There was a fire in his eyes. A dangerous drive. He looked angry. You watched as Minho danced. Every once in awhile, he would mess up and almost scream in frustration. “Minho, stop. This isn’t healthy.”

“I’m fine!” Minho turned off the music and continued working on a specific section.

Anger and frustration radiated off of him. You couldn’t help but stand frozen half in worry and half in fear. Heavy sounds of his footsteps bounced around the room. A screech was heard as his shoe slid across the wood floor. “ARGHHH!” Minho screamed, collapsing against the mirror. His forehead rested against the cool glass, his fists on either side of his head. “Why can’t I get it!?” The sound of shattering glass filled the wrong making you double back.

When you looked you saw dark blood dripping off of Minho’s hand and splattering the cracked mirror.

Slowly, you approached him, reaching out a comforting hand. Silence filled the room except for the sound of his shallow breaths. He flinched away from your touch at first but didn’t push you away when your hand rested on his shoulder. “I can’t make another mistake.” He said, his brows furrowing. “Minho, who said you were making mistakes?”

No matter what you did, Minho wouldn’t look at you. “I know you told me not to look at them...It’s just hard not to. You don’t know when one of those is going to be mixed in with a good comment and-” You could tell he was starting to get angry again so you took his hand gently and pulled him into you. Like it was his second nature Minho’s arms wrapped around you. “Are you mad at me?”

His question broke your heart. He sighed when he felt your head shake. “No, Never.” “I didn’t mean to scare you earlier.” You could practically feel the frustration and tension leaving his body as you rubbed his back. “It’s not your fault.” After awhile Minho pulled away from rubbed his tired face. “Oh god. The mirror.” One of the dance mirrors was severely cracked from when Minho punched it. “I’m gonna have to pay for it. Chan’s gonna be pissed.”

“Hey! Hey! Look at me,” You turned your boyfriend back around to face you.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll cover the cost of the mirror. You just need to come home with me, have some dinner and relax. Sound good?” An airy chuckle led this chest and he nodded. It was nice to see his smile again. He smiled even more when you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before the two of you gathered your things and left the practice room.

Changbin:

Four straight hours. Four straight hours of studying. Convinced you deserved a break you checked your phone and scrolled through Instagram. Then you noticed you had received a notification about thirty minutes ago that Stray Kids were live. Opening Vlive the video came into focus. It looked like your boyfriend and the rest of 3RACHA were live answering questions. Your eyes immediately went to your boyfriend.

Changbin was wearing your favorite black beanie on him and a loose sweatshirt. One second he was smiling at something Han said and the next he was frowning at his phone. He took off his beanie and ran a hand through his blonde hair. Changbin was oddly quiet for the rest of the live stream. At one point he even turned his phone over and pushed it away.

Something was not right. Changbin did not look okay. He avoided eye contact with the boys and kept his answers short. He had that look on his face. The same look when he found you still awake studying for an exam at three a.m. Changbin hated seeing you struggle. It hurt him seeing you push yourself.

Not being able to take it you opened the live stream on your laptop and called him. Normally hearing his special ringtone for you would make you smile, but he looked at his phone like it was a weapon aimed at him. The call went to voicemail. Jisung and Chan both looked at him when he ignored the call. “Yah! You know who that is! Pick up!” Jisung said, half laughing through his words. The comments began to ask who it was and why their ringtone was a special song.

“Changbin only has one special ringtone set. It’s for the person who he sees the most.” Chan said laughing. You called once more. “Come on, pick up.” You muttered under your breath. Sighing, Changbin picked up the phone. You watched as he put on a strained fake smile for you, knowing you would be able to hear it in his voice.

“Hey, sweetie! What’s up?”

“Seo Changbin don’t you pull this bullshit with me.”

You watched as his eyes went wide, clearly not expecting your answer. “What do you mean?” He said pulling that fake smile again. Jisung and Chan poked and laughed with each other while Changbin spoke to you. “Binnie, I know you are putting on a fake smile pretending that you are okay when you are actually not so cut the shit.” Had you not been worried about your boyfriend you would have found it funny to watch his eyes grow even wider and look around the conference room they were in like you were hiding somewhere. “How did you know?” Changbin asked bewildered.

“I’m watching the live, babe.” “Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck and motioned for the other boys to keep talking. You watched as Changbin walked off screen still on the phone. “Binnie, what’s wrong?” He sighed over the phone. “Nothing. I just saw this comment. It’s fine.” You would have given anything to be able to hug him right at that moment. “No. Fine is not acceptable. Changbin whatever that comment said is wrong.” He scoffed over the phone.

“You don’t even know what it said, babe.” “Okay, what did it say?” Changbin let out another sigh. “Something about me stealing everything BTS are writing and that our music wasn’t good. They said that there was no use in me writing for Stray Kids if all I was going to write was crap.” It was your turn to scoff. “Well. Both you and I know that is far from the truth. Seo Lewis Changbin you are one of the most talented producers and men that I have ever known and will ever know.”

There was silence on the other side of the line for a moment. “I love you, Y/n.” “Yeah, I know. I love you too. Why don’t we go get boba after I finish up studying?” He quickly agreed and ended the call. It made you smile to see Changbin reappear on screen, a huge grin from ear to ear.

Hyunjin:

You were running late. Very late. This was one of the biggest concerts in your boyfriend’s career and you were late. Usually, you would have met him at the fan meet before the concert, but your meeting ran over an hour longer than it was supposed to. Rushing home you changed and threw on some nicer makeup before driving slightly over the speed limit to reach the stadium on time.

You arrived just on time and moved to your seat in the second row. A few STAYs recognized you and were very kind and polite. They asked about how your studies were going and if Hyunjin was taking care of himself. You really loved how much they cared about him. Soon the show started and you were screaming the boys’ names with the other fans. The concert was going well. Except for the fact that Hyunjin was really out of it.

He seemed to be completely avoiding the right side of the stage and when he glanced over in that direction he got this look on his face. You could tell something was wrong. After Hyunjin almost tripped and fell during District 9, you knew something was up. “Hey, where are you going?” A fan beside you asked while they were finishing up a song. “I’m just going to go to the restroom.” You said giving her a smile. She nodded and promised to keep your seat.

You moved to the right side of the stadium and showed your ID to the staff who led you down a hall to the backstage. Their manager greeted you with a smile and quickly gave you a pass so no one would bother you. “Is everything okay?” He asked over the music. “Hyunjin seemed a little off to me. Is he alright?” You questioned as he leaned over to hear you. He nodded. “He seemed a little upset after the fansign, but he told me it was nothing.” You trusted their manager. He always took good care of the boys. However, you knew Hyunjin. He would say anything for the staff to let him perform.

“They have a ten minute break before the next set. Hyunjin has fifteen since the dance unit is second.” “Thank you.” Not a moment later the boys started exiting the stage, stylists and staff rushed to them giving them water and wiping them down. Quickly they ushered the boys to the dressing room and you followed.

“Y/n!” Minho cheered when he saw you. Several of the boys were shirtless, changing for the show, but they didn’t really care if you saw, neither did you. Minho gave you a hug and then passed you onto Felix and Jisung who in turn wanted hugs as well. “Go get dressed guys. You are doing great!” Your eyes found your boyfriend slipping off the first shirt and picking up one a stylist handed to him. “Hyunjin,” He turned at the sound of your voice.

He dropped the shirt on the couch and ran to hug you. “It is so good to see you.” He whispered into your neck. Hyunjin still had cold sweat dripping down his neck. “Hyunjin, darling, what’s wrong?” You said cupping his face. You could see it in his gorgeous dark eyes. There was no light behind them today. Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you change, and then we will talk?” Slowly he nodded taking the shirt from his stylist again. They touched up his makeup and then he sat down on the couch, his head in his heads.

“Jinnie, tell me what’s wrong.” He shrugged as you took his hands in your yours. “Did something happen at the fansign? A flash of hurt passed through his eyes as he looked at you. “Something did happen. Didn’t it?” He nodded glancing over at the other boys who were busy getting water and prepping for the next number. “There was a girl. She was one of the last ones. She gave me a signed petition of people wanting to kick me out of Stray Kids.” A hand went to your mouth in shock. You couldn’t imagine how Hyunjin must be feeling right now.

“She said that the boys only need me for the promotion visuals. She called me a useless pretty face.” The look on Hyunjin’s face made you want to cry. “She’s right there. On the front row in the right section.” Hyunjin buried his face in his hands. Wrapping your fingers around his wrists you pulled his hands away from his face. Slow tears were running down it. “Hyunjin, you are not just a pretty face. You are so much more than that. I love you because you are kind, and funny, and you dance with me in the living room, and you clean the dished when I don’t want to, and you have the biggest heart.” He chuckled and wiped away his tears.

“Really?” “Really.” He felt reassured when you kissed him. “I was talking to some of the girls around me before the concert and do you know what they said?” He shook his head and looked me in the eyes, curious. “They said: ‘Is Hyunjin resting well?’ ‘Please make sure he eats.’ ‘How is Hyunjin oppa? Please take care of our Hyunjin.’“ Hyunjin let out a small laugh, his eyes turning into cute crescent moons. “Real STAY love you. They want you to be well. So do the boys and I.” You placed kisses all across his knuckles, making him smile again.

“You don’t have to go back out if you don’t want to. The boys wouldn’t mind. You come first.” “No, no. It’s okay. I want to go back out.” Hyunjin said taking your hands in his. “I want to go for STAY.” You nodded, pushing a stray hair away from his face. “I’ll be backstage if you need me.” After kissing your cheek the two of you got up and went backstage to wait for Hyunjin’s next number. He felt better knowing you were only a few feet away if he needed you.

Jisung:

Your phone read almost four in the morning. You looked up at the building you knew your boyfriend was still in, JYP Entertainment. It wasn’t unusual for him to come home late or even stay at the dorm every once in a while, but he would always call you or at the very least send you a text. This was different. Jisung hadn’t been home for almost a week. Worried for his health Chan had sent you a message a couple hours ago saying Ji hadn’t come home the past two nights.

You heard someone playing the piano in one of the boy’s studios as you made your way down the hall. They were playing the same chord over and over again, adding different endings to it, occasionally hitting a sour note. It didn’t surprise you when the sound was coming from Han’s studio. Carefully you opened the door and looked inside.

Jisung sat the piano, notebooks, and sheet music strewn across almost every surface. He looked terrible. His brown hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled. Jisung slammed his fist down, making you jump at the sound of the keys. Defeated he held his head in his hands, soft cries shaking his shoulders. The sight broke your heart. You knew more than half of what the public saw was a confident front that Jisung put up to keep up with the other guys.

He jumped when your hand came to his shoulder. Quickly he wiped his eyes and sat up straight again, looking back at the keyboard and lyrics. “Y/n! What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?” It was clear he didn’t want you to see him at the moment. “Ji, baby, it’s four in the morning,” He paused before checking his watch.

“You should be asleep, you have a class at eight.” His words tugged at your heartstrings. Even through all this pain he was pushing down, he still kept up with your life and made sure you were taking care of yourself.

“Jisung,” Letting out a shaky breath he glanced at you, but soon resorted to shuffling the papers around, trying to clean up his mess. “Jisung, it’s Saturday.” He stopped and you could see the gears turning in his head. His gorgeous brown eyes looked dull and had heavy bags underneath them. “When was the last time you slept?” You asked cupping his jaw, trying to get the man to look at you.

“I can’t sleep. Not when I keep thinking about everything. I need to finish this anyway. I have a deadline.” You knelt down beside his chair looking up at him. “Thinking about what?” Jisung looked away, the soundproofing on the walls becoming very interesting to him. “Ji, you can tell me anything. I’m with you now, okay? It’s okay.” He broke, letting the tears stream down his cheeks. “Oh, Jisung.” Immediately, you wrapped him up in your arms. He held onto you like you were the only thing tying him onto this earth, this life.

“Hyung told me not to read them anymore. But it’s just so hard not to.” You knew exactly what he was talking about. It made you cry as well to think that those terrible comments and anti-fans were affecting your boyfriend this much that he felt he couldn’t talk about it. “They just keep getting in my head. They were even at the fansign yesterday.” You threaded your fingers through his soft hair as he cried into your neck. At some point, Ji had pulled you up to sit on his lap so he could hold you even tighter. “This girl-she wouldn’t even let me touch her album. She told me that I didn’t deserve to be with the boys and that I was just dragging them down. She told me to-”

He just cried harder held you tighter. “She’s wrong, Jisung.” You tried to think of a way to comfort the man you loved in your arms as you ran your fingers through his hair, in hopes of calming him down. “The boys love you. Real STAY love you so much. I love you more than you could ever imagine. Look at me,” Slowly he pulled away from my neck, eyes red and breath short from crying.

Jisung stared into my eyes waiting as I looked at him. “You are not alone. I’m going to be here. With you. Always. You understand?” Another slow tear ran down his cheek but he gave me a small smile and nodded. “Please come home, Jisung.” He nodded once again and wiped his eyes before giving me a soft kiss, letting me feel his gratitude and love.

Felix:

You rolled over in bed, expecting for Felix’s warm arms to wrap around you sleepily. Cracking open your eyes, you saw his side of the bed was empty. “Felix,” You called out, thinking maybe he got up to go to the bathroom or something. The clock on his nightstand blared almost two in the morning in bright red numbers.

Throwing on a big shirt from your closet, your bare feet padded across the cold wooden floor of your apartment. After knocking on the bathroom door you entered to see an empty room. “Lix?” You knew he came home last night. You distinctly remember going to bed early with him next to you. Maybe he went to get a glass of water?

Opening your bedroom door you saw a light in the kitchen was on. Your boyfriend was sitting in front of his laptop at the counter his head in his hands. Even from a distance, you could see that Felix was looking at Twitter. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around Felix’s waist making him jump.

“Y/n, what are you doing up? It’s late; go back to bed.”

You could just barely make out the tiny sniffles he was trying to hide from you as he stroked your arm, still around his waist. “Darling, what’s wrong?” You asked quietly, kissing his shoulder. “Nothing! I’m fine! Don’t worry, y/n. Go back to bed.” You sighed. Felix almost never called you by name. Especially when you were alone. Glancing over you read a couple of the tweets on screen.

omg Felix is so obviously gay it makes me want to puke

I’d honestly rather eat shit than have Felix get more lines this comeback

Lee Felix more like Lee FAILURE. Can’t you guys see he is bringing the rest of the boys down? #fuckoff

JYP should have gotten rid of Felix in the survival show. His gay untalented ass didn’t deserve to come back

Turning you finally saw Felix’s face. He had slow silent tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away when he saw you looking. “Felix-” “I’m fine!” He said quickly closing the laptop. All you could do was wipe away the still flowing tears. “You are obviously not.” Felix just dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” Dejectedly he shook his head.

“Felix, do I need to call Chan?”

“No! No! I’m fine. Really. Don’t wake up hyung.”

His eyes went wide and he gripped your arm, keeping you in front of him. “Okay, I won’t.” Your hand went up to his cheek again, wiping away some drying tears. “By the way everything they said was false and you know it.” Your boyfriend nodded but still didn’t look convinced. He let out a sigh when you kissed him gently. Felix’s tears had finally come to a stop when you pulled away, but he still looked beaten down.

“Stay right here,” Lix did as you asked, rubbing his tired eyes. Exhausted from schedules that day and from crying, your boyfriend watched as you made tea for the both of you. Felix trudged his way behind you as you walked back to your shared bedroom. The two of you sipped on tea and whispered to each other about random thoughts that came to mind. Soon the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms. Felix fell asleep first listening to you whisper how much you loved him. You felt comforted in the fact that he was alright now and could finally sleep peacefully, his heart and mind at rest.

Seungmin:

Your last class had ended maybe an hour ago. Now you couldn’t wait to go and see your boyfriend. The two of you had made plans earlier in the week to hang out at the dorms tonight. The bus ride over was uneventful, you listened to Stray Kids’ new song and marveled in Seungmin’s vocals. How did you get so lucky? Not wanting to get caught, you went through the back entrance of the boys’ dorm and climbed the stairs.

The sound of your knuckles on the wooden door echoed in the empty hall. The door opened to reveal Hyunjin. “Y/n?” The shock on his face surprised you. Seungmin always let the boys know when you were coming over. Not that they minded. “Hi, Hyunjin! Seungmin and I were going to hang out tonight.” He nodded and glanced behind him into the apartment. There was a hesitant look on Hyunjin’s handsome face. “Just warning you. He had a bad day. Like really bad.”

You nodded, completely understanding the meaning behind his words. “I thought he stopped reading those comments.” Hyunjin shook his head, letting me into the boys’ apartment. “We were going through fan mail earlier today. I think he got a couple of bad ones.” A couple of the boys greeted you while you listened to Hyunjin and set your bag down near the counter. “Where’s Han?”

“We were giving him some space. He’s in our room.” The boy pointed down the hall to their shared room. As you approached you heard soft music playing behind the door. Softly you knocked. “Chan hyung, go away.” Again you knocked hearing a sigh and footsteps coming towards the door. “Chan I’m fine! You don’t have to-”

Seungmin’s eyes widened as he saw you standing before him. “Y/n...I totally forgot you were coming I’m so sorry.” Without saying a word you gently moved past him and into the room. You heard the soft click of Seungmin closing the door. “How was class?” “Don’t pretend, Min. Not with me.” His smile fell and his shoulders drooped. Soft music filled the heavy air between you. “Who told you?” Seungmin sighed, collapsing onto his bed.

“Hyunjin.” Seungmin stared up at the ceiling, his arm behind his head. Taking off your coat, you crawled over to lay next to him. “You want to talk about it?” Seungmin was silent for a moment, instead choosing to wrap an arm around you. “I guess,” You nodded and traced patterns across his chest. “There were just a whole bunch of letters today. They were all saying how untalented I am and how I could never replace Woojin.” You could tell he was angry just by his voice.

“I know they’re just anti-fans and I shouldn’t listen to what they say, but it just hit really hard. We only lost Woojin a month ago and that was already hard enough. Han and I have been struggling to keep up with the new lines and parts. When they said that I was replacing him...it just...”

“It was the last straw?” Seungmin sighed nodding his head. “Yeah. I’m not trying to replace Woojin. I just want to keep making music with the boys. We just work so hard- I work so hard to make good music for STAY and to hear people say things like that really hurts.”

Seungmin let out another sigh, but this one felt like he was letting go of all the tension and anger he felt. “Thank you for listening. I should have just talked to someone in the first place.” He reached over and kissed the top of your head, making you smile. “You were angry. It’s understandable. I’m always here to listen if you need me.” The two of you laid in the small bed, listening to the soft music still playing in the room, enjoying the newfound calm.

Jeongin:

“Y/n, can you come down to JYPE?” Changbin said over the phone. Thankfully you were seated in the very back of your university class so you could sneakily answer. “Changbin, I’m in class right now.” You heard him sigh over the phone. “Look it ends in like thirty minutes. I can be ther-”

“No, Y/n. You don’t understand. We need you here now.” There was something about the tone of Changbin’s voice. “Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Everyone’s head turned as you slammed open the classroom door and ran out. “MS. L/N!” The professor called. You sprinted out to your car and hoped you had enough gas to get you across town to JYP Entertainment. You cursed the amount of traffic as your car came to a standstill in the middle of Seoul. You were about five minutes away from the boys’ building.

Ding

Picking up your phone you saw a message from Changbin. He had sent you a link to a video. Traffic wasn’t about to start moving anytime soon so you opened it and put your phone in the stand on your dashboard. The link sent you to a press conference with the boys about their upcoming comeback. It looked like it was an open conference so fans were there too. However, instead of talking about the comeback reporters kept on asking Jeongin about our relationship. Some fans were also screaming at him and the boys.

A car horn brought you out of your trance. You hadn’t realized that you were crying while watching the video. Wiping your tears you drove the rest of the way to the building. Jeongin was doing his best to answer the questions politely while still giving us the privacy we wanted. You could tell he was obviously bothered and upset. Chan had tried directing the focus on him but it didn’t work.

When you arrived Changbin and Chan ushered you inside, pushing past several reporters and photographers. “Where is he?” Chan motioned you towards a room near the dance studio. When you opened the door you were greeted with a dark room. “Innie?” Soft cries could be heard from the other side of the room. Seeing your silhouette before you closed the door, Jeongin rushed over to you and wrapped you in a tight hug. “Are you okay?” He asked cupping your face.

“Jeongin what’s wrong?” He shook his head, looking into my eyes. “It’s just...so hard.” You couldn’t see well in the dark, but from the sound of his voice, you knew he was crying. “Jeongin, talk to me, darling.” He held both your hands in his. “I hate that you are getting all this hate because of me. People are saying all this stuff about us.” You knew he was hiding the fact that ever since your relationship went public he was getting way more hate than usual.

“Hey, Yang Jeongin,” He looked up at you with sad eyes. You could see he had been holding this in for a long time. “You don’t have to be strong for the both of us. I’m here to do this with you because I love you.” Leaning up you placed a kiss on his forehead. “We can get through this together.”

“Thank you for being here for me, Y/n.” “Always, Innie.”

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

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joyrose-fandomer · 3 years

Text

Music club AU Chap2 (Sanders sides Human AU)

TL;DR: What if you just wanted to play music in peace but the autor sayed “chaos twins :)”

POV: Virgil

Relationship: Creativitwins, Prinxiety, Logicality parent to Virgil, (later in the story) Dukceit.

TW: Play fighting

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God loves to mess with little old Virgil, do they?

The teenager just wanted to play music and have a good time, for ONCE!

But nooo, couldn't have that did he?

Virgil just opened the door to the classroom where the music club took place, standing at the threshold, staring at not one but both of yesterday's idiots staring back at him from their seat in the classroom.

He closed back the door. A laugh exploded inside the room followed by rushed footsteps.

Virgil practically ran through the corridor and was at the other side of it when someone flew the door of the classroom open and yelled.

"WAIT, COME BACK!"

It was a good thing that it was lunchtime and everyone was out, eating because Virgil would not have been able to handle the embarrassment.

The guy took the chance to run through the corridor while Virgil was still stunned.

He reached him breathless.

"Wait... don't go.... just...one second" He took a few deep breaths "Alright... Let's start again."

The tall boy corrected his posture and fashed a 100-watt smile.

"Hi. I'm Roman. And you are?"

Virgil looks at the hand his schoolmate was extending to him like it was going to electrocute him. Wich he was seriously considering could happend.

The unconvinced emo took a long look up and down the dramatic boy who was growing more uncomfortable and nervous every second.

He was a head taller than Virgil, His hair where a stylish mess, he was wearing an outfit stolen straight up from a model magazine and not to be gay but he was so jacked that Virgil could see his pecks from under his shirt.

"Sooo..." The much to jacked teen continued when he saw that Virgil was not going to answer "Should I be worried by this elevator look or..." He left the end of the sentence hanging in the hope that Virgil would tell him something, anything.

But he simply rose an eyebrow.

Roman finally let his arm fall to his side, starting to be tired of holding it up for so long.

"Look. I got it. Using you for a challenge was not cool. I'm dumb and my brother is even dumber.

But still, give me chance. I really want to get to know you. So, how about we get back to the classroom before the teacher arrives and you can decide my fate after?

Please?"

His dramatic schoolmate had quickly shot the sentences one after the other, making big movements to accentuate his point.

Alright, Virgil was starting to get second-hand anxiety from this interaction, let's just go back to the classroom and get it over with.

He sighed and reluctantly got past the nervous mess in front of him to make his way back down the corridor, causing a disbelieving grin to appear on the face of the other boy who started trotting behind him.

If only he knew that he just threw out the window his only chance at peace for that smile.

Once in the classroom, Virgil was immediately greeted by a whistle coming from the other member of the dumb duo who was now sprawled over two chairs and tables. His hair was partially white and his outfit looked like he stoled Roman's close and made them voluntarily look as terrible as possible.

Virgil looked back at Roman who was joining his own hands together over his mouth, silently praying to Virgil to not back out.

Puppy eyes had always been the emo's weakness, his dad used them constantly against him, so when a pretty face was giving him those hopeful eyes he was unable to refuse.

He reluctantly walked into the classroom only to realize that the only seat left was the one right in front of the brothers that none took due to being the closest to the teacher.

Great.

"Wow, Ro! I can't believe you managed to get him to stay, that's a new record!"

Roman's brother claimed, throwing his arms for emphasizes and almost hitting Virgil in the process.

"Not thank's to you. Now scout over I wants my sit."

"Make me"

The strange twin challenged with a smirk. A challenge that was apparently accepted immediately judging by the wicked smile appearing on the face of the other twin.

"Gladly"

The dramatic boy took the ankles of the chaotic one and all but dragged him to the floor, getting a laugh out of his brother. Everyone was looking at them like they were insane and Virgil couldn't agree more.

Roman sunk in his sit, behind Virgil, completely unbothered by the chorus of confused laughter from the other students.

This was the scene playing when the teacher entered the classroom. Everyone when as silent as possible, a few of them had to hold their laughter with their hands. The embodiment of chaos looked up from his spot on the ground with an innocent smile.

The teacher took silently a sip of his coffee and walked past the teenager to reach the front of the room before sitting on his desk.

"Sup, everyone. Glad to see a lot of familiar faces. For those who don't know me, the name's Remy. I'm a music teacher and I'll babysit you all an hour every week for this club. You're welcome."

At the word 'babysit' he looked through his sunglasses at the trouble maker who was sitting back on his chair.

It took barely a look to know which student already knew the men, smiling and snickering like it was their wired uncle or big brother. And the ones who discovered the strange character, blinking and staring in confusion.

Two girls started whispering to each other a few rows behind, causing the teacher to snap his fingers to get their attention.

"Sorry, Sir! We were just wondering if Remy was your last name"

One of the girls quickly apologized.

"Don't sir me and no, that's my first name. My name is Dorme. Any other question?"

After a silence, he continued.

"Good. So I'm going to take the same call from last year and cross out everyone we lost during the summer break. Toby!"

Someone with orange hair and a skeleton hoody rose their hand.

"Hi Toby, last year right? Think you can go to the club and study at the same time?"

"No problem, Remy"

Remy nodded and looked back at his list.

"Amely!"

A tall girl with a flowery dress rose her hand from the back of the class.

"Hey girl, how's the transition going? Want to stay with the altos or do you want to try and go soprano?"

"It's going great but I'd like to stay alto if possible"

"Of course. Next, Mike!"

There was no answer so he crossed them out. It continued like that for a few more minutes before he put the list down and took an empty paper.

"Ok, now time to cheek the newbies. Just say your name, pronoun, and any instrument you can play. We start from the front and make our way back from left to right."

Meaning Virgil was first. Too much pressure.

He looked up at the teacher who was waiting for him to speak. Everyone was looking at him it was awful. He went to say his name but his voice refused to cooperate.

The teacher handed him the empty sheet where the anxious boy wrote 'Virgil Adams, he/him, base'

"Quick question, do you think you'll be able to sing or-" Mr. Dorme posed mid-sentence when he looked at the paper. "Never mind. Steve, good news, we have a base. You can play the guitar now!"

Steve, a boy with a plaid shirt and dark curly hair, made a 'woohoo!' of victory.

Remy looked back at Virgil.

"Don't worry about singing if you don't feel like it. Want to start tuning the base?"

The high schooler noded quickly and practically ran to the back of the classroom where Nat, one of the older students showed him where the material was.

The teacher called for the next student to introduce themself.

There was a noise of a chair being pushed back followed by an obnoxious voice.

"Greetings! I'm Roman Poquelin, he/him, and I can play any string and wind instrument except the base, the violoncello, and, god forbid, the kazoo."

"The kazoo is great! You don't know what you're talking about!"

The other twin defended

"The kazoo is an atrocity made by people with no taste!"

"You just hate fun!"

"This is not fun it's torture!"

Remy intervened before the kazoo debate blows up to far.

"That's enough you two, Roman sit down. Next."

"Remus Poquelin, he/them, I play every percussion as well as the trombone, accordion, bagpipe, otamatone, and KAZOO"

The chaotic twin insisted on the word 'kazoo' just the get a reaction from his brother who growled at him.

"Hey, that makes two Rems!" Toby yelled.

"You're right one of us got to change their name it ain't me" Remy added with a joking tone.

Remus thought about it for a moment before screaming proudly "DUKE!"

There was a confused silence cute only by a little "what?" from Steve.

Remus anwserd with a big dramatic mouvement.

"Everyone! Call me duke, or duky, or D or Di-"

"We are not calling you that." Roman interrupted with a tired sigh.

Virgil was starting to wonder if they were going to always be like that because it was starting to be exhausting.

Remy probably thought the same since he downed all his coffee before pushing on with the rest of the introductions.

Luckily there were only the two girls left who didn't make a scene out of it. Named Branda and Harley. Two sopranos, none playing any instrument.

Steve had joined Virgil with his guitar and they waited for Remy to explain the year's program.

Apparently, he had planed a few small concerts around the school during the year and 3 big ones including a competition interschool, and two concerts not taken in charge by the school as extra scholar activity.

That made a lot of concerts, and no matter how much Virgil liked to play, he still hated being under the spotlight.

They then made some vocal exercises and while everyone was reading the lyric of the song they were going to work on today, Remy explains how to play the song to Virgil, Steve, and Remus who got asked to play the drums.

The song was rather simple and except for Virgil, everyone was singing. They had to start again multiple times due to Remus somehow managing to never sing the note right while still playing the drums perfectly.

"Remus, can you sing me a 'la'?" Mr. Remy asked probably starting to wonder if he was doing it voluntarily.

Remus sang a 'mi'

"Try again?"

a 're'

"No, that's worst. Again?"

a 'si'

"Ok, you're just messing with me now" The teacher sighed

Roman rose his hand.

"He's not messing with you. He actually can't do it.

He knows what note your asking of him he just can't sing it, but he can still play."

The music teacher looked confused at that.

"Do you want to be exempted from singing little duke?"

He got answered with a big nod.

So now they were two not singing.

On the other hand, Roman grew more and more comfortable with the song and his dramatic personality slowly took over until they riched the last song and he couldn't help but hold the last note for almost a full minute.

Virgil and Steve had stopped playing by now but Remus kept a drum roll for his brother with a straight face, apparently knowing that it was going to happen.

When Roman finished the bassist exchanged a look with the drumer and somehow he just knew they were thinking the same thing.

Remus grinned and suddenly they were both laughing.

Nate joined in, hiding his face in his jacket, then Remy, Amely, and in seconds everyone was laughing, Roman included.

The bell rang. Warning them that it was time to go back to class.

While cleaning everything up Virgil heard Branda comment.

"It's going to be a weird year"

Never, truer words had been said.

***<>========<>***

(Virgil : Not to be gay but *proceed to be very gay*) XD

#sanders sides #sanders sides AU #Sander side fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #prinxiety #creativitwins

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