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pyreo · 3 years

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deltarune megapost

I wanted to make a Deltarune post about the lore and the things that aren’t obvious. And once I do that I wanna focus on why Mettaton is incredibly important to this setting

And also why he poses a problem

Why did Toriel and Asgore get divorced?

Without the setting of Undertale, Asgore and Toriel’s marriage still broke up after they had Asriel. There needs to be a reason though. In UT it was Asgore’s ‘worst of both worlds’ decision regarding killing anybody that fell from the human world, including children. We saw how close they were before this happened. Only something deep and serious caused that rift. In Deltarune, what on earth did Asgore do?

What happened to Dess?

Mentioned a handful of times by Noelle, Dess was her older sister and is mentioned In Undertale.... in that Xbox exclusing casino thing. The way Noelle talks about her, the conspicuous way Noelle gets locked out of her big house - it implies Dess is gone or deceased. Berdly recalls a spelling bee when he and Noelle were younger where she, despite being smarter than him, misspelled ‘December’, allowing him to win.

In the two-player spelling puzzle, it also spells out ‘December’ as Noelle recalls the past and her silhouette regresses to a child while she does so. Being distracted by her sister’s disappearance, rather than pure shyness, could account for her misspelling her name on stage, and it clearly left a big psychological mark for her to have this visual regression in the Dark World.

However, there’s a graveyard in Hometown with no Dess. I heard another theory that she has been missing for years, because where each character’s personal room is made by Queen to reflect their tastes via their search results, Noelle has a calendar where every day is December 25th. This could imply that Noelle continually searches the internet for ‘December Holiday’, her sister’s name, to see if there are clues to her disappearance, but of course the only result you would get is the date of Christmas.

Who is the Knight?

It’s now implied to be Kris, who has been forcibly removing the player’s influence to act on their own. By all accounts the Knight is the game’s main antagonist. Spade King and Queen both mention the Knight as someone who influenced their position - they brought Spade King to absolute power, and showed Queen that creation of new worlds was possible.

We’re led to believe that Kris was doing this, because they’ve been acting outside of the player’s control. Eating the entire pie between chapter 1 and 2 might have been a red herring to cover that they also went to the library and used that knife to slash open a dark fountain there.

However. This has issues. How would they even manage to shuffle slowly all the way to the library and get in the computer lab? The Knight is also the one creating the hidden bosses. They talked to Jevil until he realised he was in a game and he lost his mind; they ruined Spamton’s life by elevating him to success and then crushing him. Whatever the Knight is doing seems to be deliberately planned with key players in mind.

Kris opening the fountain at home at the end of ch.2 can be explained in that you just figured out in Cyber World that anyone determined enough can do this, and so, Kris decided to. So a better question might even be...

What does Kris want?

We have no idea. They are capable of removing the SOUL, ‘us’, temporarily, and putting things in motion we cannot influence. But they also keep putting us back in control afterward. This is hinted at right when ch.2 starts, where if you inspect the cage in Kris’s bedroom they threw us into, the description says it’s inescapable. Meaning Kris came back and took us out, willingly.

They allow us to pilot them through the game. Why? Because they cannot live without the SOUL for long for some reason? Because they’re bad at bullet hell? Why did they slash Toriel’s tyres before opening the fountain, making sure nobody could drive away?? Why did they specifically open the door?

You can find out details about Kris through the creepy way you interact with the townsfolk, who think you are Kris. They play the piano at the hospital waiting room - better than you. They used to go to church just to get the special church juice. It’s all normal, relatable things, not like someone who’s trying to plunge the world into darkness. Judging by their search history portrayed in their Queen’s castle room, they really want to see their brother again. However the castle has a room based on Asriel’s search history too, and Kris (not you) closes their eyes and won’t look at it.

What is Ralsei?

His name is an anagram of Asriel. Is he an extension of Asriel? The slightly flirtier dialogue in ch.2 would point to no. Is he an extension of Kris themselves, given the link between Kris’s childhood habit of wearing a headband with red horns on it, to pretend to be a monster like their family?

Ralsei knows exactly where the Dark World in the school is located, and unlike regular Darkners, knows the world is folded up inside the ‘real world’. There’s a certain whiplash to Ralsei telling you to hop out of his reality into yours and go down the hallway to retrieve all the board game items.

How does he jump from one Dark World to another, without assistance? How does he not get petrified like Lancer and Rouxls? Is this a power level thing because he’s a prince or something else? We definitely do not know enough about Ralsei.

He also says this incredibly suspicious thing after you spare Spamton NEO. Susie was also curious but accepts that maybe it ‘didn’t mean anything’, which is a sure tell that these optional bosses do mean something.

Someone is orchestrating what’s happening, opening fountains, manipulating the rulers, and influencing NPCs to become the optional bosses. Why? I suspect Ralsei for both knowing too much, and pretending something doesn’t matter when it clearly does. Until Asriel actually comes home from college I’m going to suspect he’s involved in this too.

How much does Seam know?

Seam on the other hand knows a lot about what’s going on but is openly withholding information while helping you. He’s nihilistic. He says things like:

One day soon... You too, will begin to realize the futility of your actions. Ha ha ha... At that time, feel free to come back here. I'll make you tea... And we can toast... to the end of the world!

Either this ‘end of the world’ is a reference to The Roaring, where opening too many dark fountains dooms the Dark World and the real one... or, I can’t get out of my head the idea that Deltarune takes place in a fake, or weird reconstruction of Undertale where things don’t match up, and eventually it will have to disappear. After all, powers of determination and creating and manipulating universes are Undertale’s basic bread and butter. How can we look at an Alternate Universe containing the characters we already know and not suspect that? Seam also uses Gaster’s key words, ‘darker, yet darker’, seemingly to clue us in that he’s not off track here.

Why haven’t we seen Papyrus?

This is a bright neon flashing ‘something’s not right’ sign. It’s not like Papyrus’s voice actor was too busy or anything. His absence is noticable and for a reason. Nice of Sans to promise we could meet him despite being aware we’re piloting a child’s body around, though, even if he didn’t follow through.

What locations in town could be used for dark fountains in the next 4 chapters?

If the sequence continues, we have chapter 1 in the school games room, chapter 2 in a computer lab, and chapter 3 in front of Kris’s television, where the aesthetic of each setting influences the world, characters, and enemies in the Dark World created there. Future possibilities include the church, the hospital, sans’s grocery store, Noelle’s house, and the closed bunker.

What the hell’s in the closed bunker

This one’s too obvious, honestly. I think it’ll open for no reason in chapter 7 and a little white dog will bounce out and steal one of your key items and nothing else happens.

Why does Asgore have these

Unlike the bunker feeling like a joke teaser, I gotta believe this is foreshadowing something weird. For example, what does opening a dark fountain in here with the seven flowers do? Does it just take you into Undertale?

Each chapter will have a hidden boss with a ‘soul mode’ from Undertale

Chapter 1 let you stay red, but I think each subsequent chapter is going to change your soul mode to one of the seven colours and design the encounter around that. Purple, yellow, green and blue were used in Undertale, leaving the light blue and orange modes yet to be revealed.

How does Spamton emulate Mettaton Neo’s name, body, and incorporate his battle theme, and the ‘Dummy!’ theme, with no actual connection between them ingame?

This is a really fun one that’s explained over in this post here. Swatch is the Dark World creation from the paint program on the library computers, so he’s able to explain that a Lightner made the robot body decaying in the castle basement that way.

Mettaton went to the library and drew his ideal form, Mettaton NEO, in MS Paint, and the Dark World formed that into a puppet body which Spamton was able to hijack temporarily. So by doing that Spamton was able to channel Mettaton’s appearance, attacks, music, and SOUL mode for the fight.

This might mean that the future hidden bosses, each with their own SOUL mode, might be based on the associated character for that mode (Muffet, Undyne, and Sans or Papyrus), and the boss will take on some aspect of them from their world to leech their fight mechanics.

The Problem With Mettaton

We don’t exactly know what Deltarune is about. It’s an alternate universe where the characters from Undertale already live on the surface, have completely normal lives, but diverge from the storyline of Undertale and, crucially, have not lived through the changes Frisk brought to their lives.

Remember how Undertale had a dozen different ending routes depending on who you befriended? The constant reinforcement in Undertale was that your choices mattered. Through Frisk, you chose to bring Alphys closure about her mistakes, you chose to befriend papyrus instead of attacking him, you chose to help Alphys and Undyne realise their feelings for each other and it’s only doing that that leads to the golden ending and escape to the surface.

Deltarune is the opposite, your choices do not matter. The only thing you can do to force the route of the game to change is to force Noelle into a No Mercy run, which is indirect, and also, a total desperation to mess with an otherwise set course. This version of the characters have not been helped by Frisk - Undyne and Alphys are not together, Papyrus has no friends, Asgore cannot get over himself, and they’re clearly the worse for it, but potentially, you COULD still do these things. In fact it’s hinted that you already are.

But there’s Mettaton.

He’s still a ghost and does not leave his house. In Frisk’s world, Gaster deleted himself, promoting Alphys to royal scientist by bluffing with Mettaton, and she then build him his ideal body. In Kris’s world... Alphys is a school teacher. There’s no barrier to break, no reason to experiment on souls, no Flowey mistake, and no body for Mettaton.

It was sad in Ch.1, but now with the Spamton NEO fight in ch.2, it’s unmissable. Mettaton wants that body and he cannot get it. Alphys in this universe is not going to leave her teaching job and suddenly be able to build a robot. Mettaton is just... screwed out of his happy ending and cannot get it.

So what resolution could this have? If it wasn’t for Mettaton I might believe in the vaildity of Deltarune and Hometown. But. How can you doom this character? If Undertale was the only way Mettaton could be befriended, then Undertale is Primary Universe A and Seam is right - the world of Deltarune is doomed as some kind of aberration. It all relies on how this gets explained in the future, but the core mystery of Deltarune is how exactly this universe intersects with Undertale and whether one is an offshoot of the other. How the Dark World links into that is another complication. But even as we get more fun characters and neat stuff in the Dark Worlds, let’s not forget we have absolutely no idea why Undertale’s characters are living here with no mention of underground or why there are no other humans beside Kris.

#undertale #deltarune #welcome to my giant essay post

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secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

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I was just thinking about how sweet madix & riley, and alexi & micahs friendship. and it had me thinking....maybe would you write something where madix & riley are both laid up in bed with the stomach flu, riley being worse off. madix tries his best to comfort an emotional and sick riley, but it’s hard when he feels so bad himself. cue a quick phone call to alexi & micah to ask if they would mind bringing them a few supplies and perhaps some help. absolutely no pressure of course! <3

Ahh thank you so much for the lovely request! I’m really happy with this one :)

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Madix does not consider himself a sympathetic puker. That’s why when Riley threw up into the bucket for the third time that night, Madix knew it wasn’t empathy that made his own stomach turn.

Riley shivered and spat into the bucket, feeling horrendous and entirely sick of this stomach bug. No pun intended because he was in no mood to be making jokes. All day, his head had been either buried in a bucket or hovering over the toilet. Currently, he preferred the bucket because it allowed him to sit on the couch. It was nice to be able to lean against Madix and have his shoulders rubbed.

Swallowing a sudden wave of nausea, Madix handed Riley a cloth to wipe his mouth. Riley reached for it, but stopped mid-way. His throat bobbed as his face got even paler. The boy still had one more retch in him. Madix, seeing this, brought the bucket back to his lap. He turned his head to the side so as to not trigger his own belly anymore.

With nothing left in his stomach to throw up, Riley dry heaved. His whole body quivered against Madix from the force of it. He might also have been shaking from the sobs that racked his frame. “Madix…make it stop,” he begged, with snot and tears running down his face.

“Oh love, I’m sorry.” Under normal circumstances, Madix might have said that he would gladly take the pain for himself, but he guessed it would be redundant at this point.

Along with the sadness, Madix also guessed that Riley was getting frustrated with this virus. He hadn’t been able to eat anything all day without it coming back up. Then again, they didn’t have much food in the house that wouldn’t unsettle his stomach. They were running low on supplies, and Madix was running low on energy.

He started to suspect that perhaps Riley wasn’t the only victim of this illness when the same nausea hit his system. This was earlier that day when he was trying to get Riley to eat something, meanwhile the food that he put in his own stomach was sitting uneasily. The nausea kicked in then, and he stupidly decided not to upset his stomach anymore by drinking water. No one had been nagging at him to stay hydrated, but now he wished there could be. Riley was much too upset and sick to tell – not that Madix could blame him. Still, he had to tell Riley something, before he threw up right then and there. That would absolutely not make the situation better.

Riley groaned and took the cloth to wipe his mouth. He was indeed frustrated. “I still feel nauseous…” he mumbled while hugging his stomach. “I hate this.”

“Believe me,” Madix said without making eye contact, “I know how you feel.”

“What do you mean?”

Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “I uh…don’t feel so hot either.”

Riley’s eyes grew wide. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Normally he could deal with Madix being sick if he was already sick himself. But the human brain is a clusterfuck of an organ, and sometimes it cannot be expected to act predictably. Sometimes your brain tells you that everything sucks, and that crying is the only solution, and that Madix being sick is the worst possible thing to happen right now. Who was going to take care of us?? How would we deal with a sick Madix while we’re sick?? Because apparently Riley’s brain thought of itself and Riley as two separate entities.

“Are you going to throw up?” Riley asked with an unsteady voice.

Madix immediately regretted telling Riley how he felt. He watched his boyfriend’s eyes grow ten sizes, and watched his chest heave frantically. He guessed the combination of having a fever and feeling terrible made the perfect recipe for panic.

Before Madix could lie about needing to throw up, Riley gagged into his hand. The emotions and nausea became too much, and his stomach was back at it again. Luckily Madix shoved the bucket under his chin just in time to catch the bitter yellow bile that spilled past his lips.

Without thinking about it, Madix stood up from the couch after handing over the bucket. Seeing the thick bile come from his boyfriend’s mouth was too much for his own stomach to handle. Saliva was quickly coating his tongue. “Ry, I have to…” he mumbled with a hand over his mouth. “…I’ll be right back.”

Madix felt bad for leaving Riley in the middle of vomiting, but he desperately needed to do the same. His legs led him to the bathroom where he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. The remnants of his lunch rushed up his throat and splattered into the bowl. A wet belch interrupted the stream, but was soon followed by another wave of vomit. Madix squeezed his eyes shut involuntarily, wetting his eyelashes with tears. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the rim.

His stomach gurgled loudly. He felt like the organ was getting revenge for being forced to wait so long. He wrapped his arms around his aching belly and moaned. It was hell, and now he knew how Riley truly felt. Madix couldn’t help but despair at the thought of going through the same things Riley had all morning. And he would need to do it alone.

In his hazy feverish state, Madix had a thought. The fact that his fried mind was able to come up with a thought was shocking, but there it was.

His phone! Where was his phone? He needed to make a call.

But first he needed to gag over the toilet bowl for another few minutes. For now, it seemed like his stomach just wanted to be an asshole and make him think that he was going to puke. The threat of puking never disappeared, but soon Madix got tired of waiting. And fuck, he could hear Riley calling to him from the living room. Riley’s voice sounded thick from having just brought up another sludge of bile.

Madix wanted to go to him, to rub his back and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But if Riley felt anything like how Madix was feeling, he didn’t think that anything would ever be okay. And guess what? What if Madix wanted someone to rub his back? He wanted someone to tell him that everything would be okay.

That’s when he remembered the call that he was going to make. The phone was in his pocket, but even that felt too far for him to reach. Slowly, Madix propped his back up against the tub and called Micah. He put it on speaker so that he didn’t have to hold the phone to his ear.

Micah answered on the first ring, but could only hear heavy breathing on the other end. “Madix? Are you there?

Madix finally got the energy to respond. He was weak. “Can you…come over?”

“Madix? I can’t hear you very well. You sound all echo-ish.” Micah’s voice was so loud as it reverberated in the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“No ‘m really sick. Riley too.” Madix felt sweat dripping down his forehead. “Please come over.” He hoped that Micah could understand his messy speech.

There was ruffling on Micah’s end before, “oh okay, okay. Just hang tight. We’ll be right there.”

“Wait…Bring stuff.”

“Bring stuff?”

“We’re…dehy…” he was going to say ‘dehydrated’ but there were some technical difficulties in his brain. The hardware was overheating. He found a solution. “…thirsty.”

…

With some deductive skills, Micah had a pretty good guess for what was ailing his friends. The echo of the phone call easily told him that Madix was in a bathroom. Dehydration plus camping out in a bathroom were not hard puzzle pieces to fit together.

He and Alexi stopped by the store for Gatorade, soup, and anything else needed to fight a stomach virus. While Alexi debated over which flavour of sport drink to get, Micah rushed him along. “Just pick one! Madix sounded horrible on the phone.”

“What if they don’t like the yellow kind?”

“Oh my god, let’s just go!”

“Fine…” Alexi muttered under his breath, “but if they hate it, it’s your fault.”

Micah accepted full responsibility if they didn’t like the drink, and raced for the checkout. They threw the bags into the car and off they went to help their friends once again.

Upon entering, they immediately found Riley sleeping on the couch with the bucket on the floor. It was still full of bile because clearly neither of the sick boys had the energy to clean it.

While Alexi placed the groceries in the kitchen and began to open the drinks, Micah crouched by Riley’s head. His skin was deathly pale. Micah woke him up with a light shake.

Riley jumped a little as he awoke from his restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes, not understanding what he was seeing. He could swear that Micah was in his house for some reason. And he was right. “Micah?”

“Hey Ry. How are you feeling?”

Riley looked around and spotted Alexi as well. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Madix called us,” Alexi answered while carrying over a bottle of Gatorade. “Can you sit up and take a sip of this for me?”

Riley did sit up and accepted the bottle. His mouth was insanely dry, but that’s not what he cared about in that moment. “Oh my god Madix. Go help him!” He looked worriedly between the two boys who just showed up. “I know he’s been throwing up in the bathroom, but I just – I couldn’t… I –”

“Shh, slow down,” Micah said softly. “It’s not your fault. I’ll go check on him right now.” As he left, Micah heard Riley ask if they brought any other colour of Gatorade. Yellow wasn’t his favourite.

Micah was scared that he was going to find Madix passed out in a puddle of his own vomit. That was not the case. He found Madix drenched in sweat, not passed out but barely lucid. Madix didn’t even react when Micah came into the bathroom. His head was resting on the toilet seat and it looked like he was fighting another wave of nausea. The bowl was full of half-digested stomach contents. Madix whimpered quietly to himself.

Micah slowly sat down, and immediately put his hand on Madix’s damp back. “Oh Maddy, look at you.” The heat from his back was astounding.

Madix did not open his eyes, but his shoulders lost a bit of their tension. “Micah?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Micah’s chest ached when the boy reached out his hand to hold onto him. He was usually only very touchy with Alexi, but Madix looked like he needed it to survive. Micah scooted closer and brushed a hand over Madix’s cheek. Of course, he found it burning. Normally, Micah would feel very awkward touching a friend’s face but there was something about Madix’s desperation that made it okay. The way Madix leaned entirely into the touch made Micah forget about any apprehensions.

Madix squinted from the bright light. He hadn’t realized how long his eyes had been closed for. He also hadn’t realized how much he needed the presence of someone else. It was like drowning in dark water. No one around to pull him from the waves that kept pushing him under. No one to pierce the thick darkness where he found himself.

Then suddenly a lifeline.

A choked sob came from Madix. “I feel horrible, Micah. I can’t stop throwing up.”

“I know, I know.” Micah rubbed his back harder. He tried to hold back his own emotions. He had never seen Madix this vulnerable.

“I – I couldn’t…. st-stay with Riley.” Tears streaked down Madix’s face as he cried and struggled to catch his breath. “It hurts…my belly.”

Micah didn’t say anything. He just continued to let Madix know he was there. He wanted to let Madix be completely selfish for once in his life, God knows he deserves it.

If Madix were lucid enough to hear what he was saying, he would have told himself to stop making such a big deal about a little stomach-ache. The good news was that he wasn’t lucid enough, and this provided him with the outlet he needed. Somehow, his head found Micah’s shoulder and he rested it there while he feverishly rambled.

Micah let this go one for as long as he could, but he had to stop it eventually. Madix was hiccupping and crying, and generally working himself up to the point of making himself sick all over again. When the hiccupping turned into empty heaves, Micah spoke. “Okay, hon, you have to let yourself breathe. Can you breathe with me?”

And Micah took a long inhale, making sure that Madix did the same. Through sniffles and hiccups, he copied the rise and fall of Micah’s chest. “That’s it, Mads. Again.”

The two of them took another deep breath in, and Madix’s breathing slowly became less shaky. Micah smiled at the progress. “That’s it, Madix. Everything is going to be okay.”

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #stomach flu #sickfic #stomach bug #multiple sickees #fever #Riley #Madix #Micah #Alexi #platonic caretaking #puking #my ocs #vomiting

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permanentt-reveriee · 4 years

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Evidence that Supports Future Canon Buddie

Brace yourselves, this is a long one. This is a, somewhat in chronological order, list of things that have happend in the show that could mean nothing or could mean everything. I guess I have too much time on my hands and the lack of Buddie content is killing me.

In episode 2x04 there are women flirting with Buck and Eddie on a call. Eddie tells the one woman that he doesn't think he is what she's looking for because he has a son. When they are leaving Buck asks him if that is the real reason he doesn't date and Eddie says they weren't his type. Now to me that just seemed a little too ambiguous. PLEASE ELABORATE EDMUNDO!

Also speaking of that scene let's do a little comparison to something Buck says later in episode 2x08...

... now I'M not saying he was flirting with Eddie, but I think he just did!

All the domestic moments! Buck takes Eddie to pick up Christopher after the earthquake, knowing how worried Eddie had been. Buck taking Eddie to the hospital when his abuela got hurt, then talking to Bobby and Carla about his situation and making sure Eddie had help with Christopher. Eddie going with Buck to help Maddie move. Eddie going to the hospital to console Buck after Maddie was kidnapped. Buck going with Eddie to take Christopher to see Santa. I mean the list goes on...

Speaking of going to meet Santa, we have this gem of a scene...

In episode 2x08 Buck is talking to an older man who's husband had just died. The man was telling Buck about their life together. Buck says that he hoped he could find something that good and the man tells him you dont find it, you make it. Buck then proceeds to build a family dynamic with Eddie and Christopher. This scene struck me as very important to Buck's character growth and Eddie has been the only person that Buck has "made" anything with so...

In episode 2x18 Eddie's parents come to town for Shannon's funeral and try to convince Eddie to come back to El Paso. Eddie refuses and says that he chose this life for a reason. The way he said that implies that there is more about his past than we know, so again I say, PLEASE ELABORATE EDMUNDO! (I really cannot wait for 'Eddie Begins')

Also in episode 2x18 we had this beautifully sad moment...

... I mean come on! Eddie knows that nothing is the way it should be, because Buck isn't there! 😭😭😭

Kind of going back to their domesticity, in episode 3x01, Eddie goes to Buck's apartment with Christopher to help get Buck out of his funk. Buck was ASLEEP and didn't let them into the apartment. So Eddie has a key, and apparently him just letting himself in is a regular occurrence, because they both just acted like it was super normal.

The entire end scene of episode 3x03! The song Photograph by Ed Sheeran ending with the line: 'wait for me to come home' just as Eddie and Christopher knocked on the door to Buck's apartment! Eddie telling Buck that he knows he loves Christopher! Eddie telling Buck there is no one in the world he trusts with Christopher more than him!!! I mean 😍😭😍😭😍

At first Eddie's anger storyline felt weird and out of place, until I went back and really thought about it. Eddie has been through so much with the army, Christopher's diagnosis, Shannon leaving, Shannon dying, Christopher having nightmares and not telling him, and that is just the stuff we know about. And yet, after all of that, he never got angry and always pushed through. He even said something in 2x18 about how his dad used to tell him when stuff went wrong to brush it off and move on, which he clearly has been doing for too long. I just find it telling that not being able to talk to Buck was what finally sent him over the edge. I mean come on, that fight in the grocery store was a lover's quarrel if I have ever seen one.

Oh and don't even get me started on the kitchen scene in 3x09!

Buck helping Athena bring Christmas to the firehouse so Eddie can spend Christmas with his son!

Bonus (because I'm a clown):

"When you decided to sue the department, to make Cap the bad guy, did you ever stop to think of what that could do to us?" Ok ok, yes I know he meant the team and not just them, but just let me have this!

Also...

This gif alone confirms that not only is Eddie thirsting for Buck, but that at least Chimney knows about it! ❤

I know I probably missed somethings so feel free to add anything I forgot! Sorry this was so long I just needed to rant about my boys!

#buddie #buck x eddie #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 on fox #sorry this was a lot #i just miss my boys and wanted to talk about them

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demivampirew · 4 years

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Don’t judge a book by its cover Chapter 6 (final chapter)

A Cap. Syverson story.

Triggers: Heartbreak ;use of curse words; crying; puking.

Synopsis: Rebeca is an Argentinian girl who a few months ago moved to the USA (Washington D.C) to study in university thanks to a scholarship that she was granted. She’s lonely. People don’t treat her well. Some could be understood but most of them just hate her for being a foreigner. She meets Syverson because he’s a man from the South and she has not had a good experience with people from there, but she may find out at the end that she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Tag: lunedelorient

You’ll find a note at the end of the chapter, which is an explanation of what is being said when the * appears.

Things couldn't be better for Rebeca. She had been dating a wonderful man for the last three months and he treated her like a true queen. She passed all her exams with high grades and now was rightfully enjoying her spring break. Now she had time to hang out with her friend Danielle and even would have double dates with her and her girlfriend Phoebe. She couldn't be happier. One morning she woke up feeling like hell. She had to run to the bathroom to puke. At first, she thought that could have been something that she ate the day before that settled badly in her stomach, but after several days of waking up nauseous and feeling awful but then feeling better the rest of the day, she realized that something else was going on. She decided to take a pregnancy test - two actually, for more certainty- at both gave positive as a result. She was expecting a baby. They usually were careful when having sex, but there were two separate occasions in which they didn't use a condom. She was nervous. What would happen now? Could she lose her scholarship due to her pregnancy? What if they wanted to kick her out of the country and separate her from the child once he had him/her? Would Sy be happy with the news? Should she have the baby at all? The only answer she knew was the last one and it was yes; that baby would be her's and Sy's. She needed now to find out how he felt about it. As long as he was ok with the baby, she'd know that everything was going to be ok, because he always going to be there for her, to help her solved any troubling situation she might be in. After work, she went straight to Sy's house to share the news with him. She was quite nervous, but also excited. If he was happy with the news, then she would get the family she always dream of. She entered the house using the key he gave her and once inside the house she searched for her boyfriend. She found him sitting in the couch, crossing both on his arms in his chest, looking at the space in front of him, lost in his thoughts. Something bad had happened, she could feel it. She caught his attention and he looked at her in silence for a few moments. "Fuck" he cursed and she knew that whatever happened, it was really bad. He sighed and asked her to sit in the couch with him, that he needed to talk to her. - I got the call - he said with sadness. No further explanation was necessary, she knew exactly what that meant. - How long? - she questioned. - Maybe a year or more. They need me there, it has to be me. The locals already know me, I'm the only one who might bring some peace there. - he answered. - I knew I shouldn't have started a relationship. I knew that this day would come in eventually. I didn't want to hurt you, babe.- he apologized. - What are you saying? It's a year or maybe a bit more. I'll wait for you. - Beca assured him - Darling, I may never come back, that's how things go there. I tell you is a year and might end being more. Last time I was supposed to be only for a few months and ended up staying for three years. That's a lot of time. You're young, you cannot spend the rest of your days waiting for a man that might never come back. - he tried to reason with her. - You're breaking up with me then? - she asked with tears on her eyes. - I am, yes. This is best for you. - You promised me that you'll always be going to be there to protect me, but you were lying. You're going to leave me alone.- she recriminated him. - I'm really sorry, baby. It hurts my soul knowing that I'll have to leave you, but I have to go. I have to. I don't have another choice. - But you do. You could leave and found another job and never go back, but you want to. You want to be there because you want to save people, is in your nature. That's who you are. You want to help even if it costs you everything. - she replied, filled with sadness. She stood up a walk to the door with the intentions to leave. He followed her. - Beca, stop. It's late, don't go. It can be dangerous. - he pleaded her to stay the night. She wanted to act like a stubborn child and just leave, but she knew he was right. I was nighttime already and was dark outside. And she needed to think in the baby. "the baby" she thought, reminding herself that now she was going to be alone in this predicament. She was going to be a single mother. She accepted to stay, but she would sleep in the couch, he tried to persuade her to change places, so she would sleep in the bed and him on the couch, but he knew that'd be a waste of energy, she was too stubborn to listen. She spent at least two hours crying silently and thinking in all the mess she was caught on. She was going to have a child in a country that wasn't her own and probably wouldn't want her, an inmigrant with a study visa, to have an American kid. She would probably lose her visa and her job because there was no way she could study and work with a baby and also would not be able to afford childcare. There was only one solution she could find: she needed to go back to her country. There, her family would help her and she would be able to study in her former university and work while her parents looked after the baby. That was the only solution. Then she thought about Sy; the fact that she'd probably never see him again and how he could even die in the battlefield. She got up from the couch, went into the bedroom and saw that he was awake, probably thinking as much as she was. As soon as he saw her, he sat on the bed and stared at her. First, she looked mad at him, but then she started to cry and he extended both of his arms, waiting for her to accommodate herself in his chest so he could hug her. After a bit, she felt a little bit better. She looked into his eyes and kissed him. If that was the last time she would ever see him, she wanted to be a night that neither would forget. A proper goodbye. Neither of them spoke again, they let their bodies do the talking. He made love to her for the very last time, taking the sweet taste of her lips with him forever in his heart. ----------------------------------------------------------- Two years later Syverson was back from the Middle East. He was promoted and now he would never have to come back there again. He was ready to settle down alive and normal life. He would help train new soldiers and would help the new captain there from America, giving orders of how to proceed, but he would never go back. The first thing that crossed into his mind, the main reason he fought to never go back, was to see Rebeca. She was on his mind constantly. There wasn't a single day he wouldn't think of her or dream with her. He planned to search for her, and if she hadn't moved on with her life, he would beg her to take him back. She was his everything. He went to her place and found a young man living there. The gentleman told him that he never meet the former tenant of that house and that he's been living there for over a year and a half. Syverson then looked for her in the grocery store, but she wasn't there either. Another girl was working there, who told him that the owners of the store were on vacations and that she never meet any former employee and that she had been working there for a few months. College was his last resource. He waited for her to get out of the building, but that never happened. After the place was almost empty, he lost his hope in seeing her. He was about to leave when he saw a familiar face leaving the place. - Danielle! - he called at the girl. She turned around and recognized him immediately. - Sy!- she greeted him, surprised to see him.- How are you? - I'm fine. How are you? - he asked politely - I'm great, thanks. - she replied- What are you doing here? - I'm looking for Beca. I've been searching for her everywhere but I haven't been able to find her. Her phone is not the same, she moved and she doesn't work in the grocery store anymore. - he explained confused.- Is there any chance you might now where is she? - I do, actually.- he admitted and took a pause before delivering the bad news- She went back to Argentina. - What? -he questioned, shooked by the news. It was like an ice-cold shower - What happened? Did she lose her scholarship? Did something do something to her? - he asked worriedly. - No, she's fine, don't worry. She went back shortly after you left - the young lady informed him- She said she missed her family a lot and didn't want to stay any longer in the country. She didn't lose her scholarship, she gave it up.- Sy was speechless. He has lost her forever. He couldn't accept that just like that. He needed to see her again, somehow. - Do you have a phone number by any chance? - he asked her - No, sorry.- she apologized. After a little pause, she continued - I have her address, though. She sends me an email with her address and I sent her mine so she could send me things she wanted me to try from her country and I'll send her things that only could find here. -----------------------------------------------------------

He had learnt enough Spanish from two Latino soldiers on his squad to be able to handle short conversations. So, thankfully, it wasn't to difficult for Syverson to order a taxi at the Argentinian airport to go to Rebeca's house. He got out of the taxi and took a minute to see her house. It was quite beautiful, it had flowers in the front. There were bars in the front of the house, so he had to press the doorbell for someone to open the door for him. Moments later, a woman in her late forties or early fifties open the house door. - Hola, qué necesitabas? (Hello, what do you need?)* - asked the woman - Hola. ¿Está Rebeca? (Hello. Is Rebeca here?) - questioned Sy, struggling to hide the fact that he wasn't a Spanish speaker. - Decime tu nombre, así le aviso que la estás buscando (Tell me your name so I tell her you are looking for her) - Digale que Sy la busca, por favor. (Tell her Sy is looking for her, please) - he replied. The woman clearly heard about him, because she looked surprised at looked at him from head to toes, like inspected him. - Espera acá un minuto, ya vuelvo (I'll be back in a minute, wait here) - said the woman and entered the house, closing the door behind her. While waiting, he took a look around the place. Pedestrians were walking around, looking at him, just like some old ladies who were sitting in the porch of the house chatting. For a moment, he felt like a zoo animal. Around ten minutes later, the door opened again and Beca appeared, closing the door behind her and walking towards him. She opened the bars door and let him in. They looked at each other in silence for a moment and then hugged, like if neither of them could believe that was happening. After the hug, he pressed his head against her forehead and smile. He missed her so much. He looked at her and couldn't even believe it. She was way more beautiful than he remembered. - Why did you leave? - he asked her - It's a long story. -she replied. - I thought I lost you forever.- he replied, sighing in relief to know that he was finally with her again. - I ... Why are you here Sy? Why are you in Argentina? - I came to you. I want you to come back with me. - he begged her. - I can't. I lost my visa when I gave up my scholarship. - she explained - You can get it back or maybe a work visa - he suggested - It's not that easy, Sy. You know it. - I'm not giving up. I'm going to find a way to bring you back. Please, take me back. - I would, but I don't think I can get back there. Things are way more complicated than you think. - she paused and took a deep breath. Then, she looked into his eyes and asked him to follow her. They entered the house. Rebeca asked him to wait in the living room as she went into another room. While waiting, Syverson inspected the place. It was a homie. It wasn't different from his house or any other American house, but it felt different. The smell of homemade food being cooked; there was a certain cosiness and warmness that it was hard to explain. No wonder she wanted to go back there instead of staying in the coldness of the solitary house she used to live in Washington. He heard a room door open and he settled his eyes in the direction in which Beca disappeared. He froze as he saw her enter the living room with a little girl on her arms. She had the same eyes and curly brown hair that Rebeca, but her face...her face looked like him. It was like looking at the pictures that his mother had of him as a little kid, but with long curly hair. Rebeca sat in a chair next to a table, while looked at the little girl, who was shyly hiding her face on her chest, grabbing some of her curls. Sy kneeled before them, without taking his eyes out of the little girl, speechless. He tried to stroke the girls' hair but she hid even more. Beca caressed her and told her that it was ok. - He's daddy. Do you remember daddy? I showed you pictures of him and talked to you about him? He's here. - she explained the little girl. - Does she speak English? - asked Sy, without even thinking. He still was in shock. - Yes. I decided to teach her both English and Spanish at the same time. She's still learning, but she understands when you speak to her in both languages.- she explained. - Hi, baby. I'm your daddy.- he replied, with tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe he had a daughter. - Why... -he began, looking at Beca. He didn't have to finish his question because she knew exactly what he was going to ask. - I was going to tell you that day, but then I couldn't. For lots of reasons. I think you might understand why I did it. - I do. - he agreed. She didn't need to explain anything. Whatever happened, happened. He knew that somehow Beca made the right call. It wouldn't have been the same those years if he would have known that she was alone taking care of his child, but he couldn't leave his squad alone either. He felt terrible for losing a year of his daughter's life; for not being there the day she was born, her firsts steps, her first word. Nonetheless, he would be for the rest of her important moments. And no matter how hard I'd be, he would find a way to take his woman and his daughter back with him.

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

- Mommy, mommy, look what daddy bought me! - said Alma running into her mother's arms to show her the new toy she's got. It was a plastic gun. - See? Now I'm a warrior like daddy. - the little 5 years old girl told her mother while pretending to shoot with the gun. - Seriously, Syverson, a gun? - Rebeca reprimanded her husband for the toy he gave to their daughter. - Hey, she chose it herself, ok? - he defended himself, grabbing her wife by her hips and kissing her. - A kiss is not going to get you out of trouble, mister. Tell me, do you think a gun is an appropriate toy for a little girl? - Girls can be awesome soldiers too, ma'am. - he pointed out - I'm not saying that's not an appropriate toy because she's a girl, I'm saying that toy isn't appropriate for a child of any gender. - Apologies, my lady, you're right. But, you know her, she'll leave it on the floor and forget about it in two days, as she does with all of her toys. - he said grinning. - You're lucky you're right, sir, otherwise there was not going to be more kisses for you. - And that would be the end of me. - he finished the conversation, kissing her while he stroked her face.

The end.

Notes: *In Argentina, is a polite way to ask people you don't know who they are and why are they calling at the door.

#cap sy #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill #demivampirew

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 2)

Clint x ofc

Chapter warnings: Mourning, grief, residual trauma, dead bodies, mention of child Dusting, mention of suicide

AN: Well, we’re here for chapter two. Again, keep in mind it will be a good while until our two people come together. They’ve got a long way to go and are about halfway across the country from each other. While we work to bring them together however, let’s explore what the world after the snap would have likely been like together, yea?

Thanks to @winterisakiller who’s outraged gasps fuel my soul and @tnystrk-exewho is always telling me to go the extra mile and throw in just one more dead body.

The rest of the chapters are on my masterlist. Have a happy Friday <3

Chapter 2- The Dawn of a New Day

As the sun came up on a whole new world, the sky looked to be a fire of reds and oranges. Impossibly fine dust floated up on the slightest wind and left the sky in a constant hazy state, making the orange and red even more prevalent. Over and over again, Clint told himself that it was just regular dust though he knew it wasn’t.

He’d spent the whole of the day before in a panicked daze and looking back, it was hard to remember the details. One second he was standing with his daughter and his wife, Laura called to him. He looked away from his daughter, toward the rest of his family and when his attention returned to Lila, she was gone. Looking around, he had found himself alone with not even a clue as to what had happened.

He didn’t see it happen and so he looked for them. They should have still been there.

He ran around that field yelling their names. He searched the house, the basement and the shed. Every inch of the property was searched and searched again as panic clouded his mind. Even though all the vehicles were still parked, Clint jumped into the truck he called his own and drove, house arrest be damned.

He went down every back road looking for them, yelling their names for hours until his voice gave out. It was well passed noon when he made his way into town and filled his tank with gas. It was in town that he first got the slightest idea what may have happened to his family.

It wasn’t as if he was unaware if the events in New York. But none of his friends and past teammates had called him to assist. It seemed reasonable to expect they had everything under control. They would have called him if they needed his help. They should have called them if they needed him.

He could only assume that people turning into dust had something to do with what had happened the day before. Yet, he couldn’t even wrap his mind around whole people simply turning to dust, simply gone. There was were so many things that he didn’t understand about the universe but still, whole people turning to dust was something that he couldn’t fathom.

He needed to know how it happened. Why it happened. How could his friends, his old teammates fail so spectacularly as to allow whatever had happened to happen? Shops were abandoned, cars were abandoned and what people remained in the already small town clung to each other in small groups in the streets. Others seemed to mill about lost.

Clint walked into the small grocery and looked around. The doors were unlocked, the lights were on but the store was largely empty. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on a bench, pulling out his phone and dialing those who apparently lost the one fight that counted more than any of the rest only to get voicemail.

~~~~~<3

With a firm shake of his head, Clint pulled himself out of the memories. It was a new day and all be could do was continue pushing to find answers. Pulling out his cell phone, he began calling again. He didn’t know if the owners of the numbers he was calling were still around or if they had turned to dust as well but he needed someone to answer. He needed to know what happened and how to undo it.

~~~~~<3

Deanna was confused when she woke, feeling like she was being cooked to death under a mountain of blankets. Her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to sleep longer yet she feared going back to sleep. She had the most terrible nightmare during the night where her children had died. It had felt so real that the pain still ripped through her as she fought back blankets.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted with her children’s room. That wasn’t right. She never slept in the kids room. Hell, she hardly ever let the kids sleep in her bed. They somehow grew four extra limbs each, gain hulk strength and become violent in their sleep.

Looking around the room, a sick realization hit her. It wasn’t a dream though it was very much a nightmare.

As she gathered Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s doll, her movements felt robotic all the while. She left the room and turned off the light, not looking back. Part of her hoped that she would find the kids in the living room. Maybe if she pretended it hadn’t happened, somehow it would change the facts.

Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen and made herself breakfast and a pot of coffee. Whether or not she could eat, she didn’t know but making breakfast was a habit. She quickly realized she had made enough to feed the family.

She wasn’t feeding a family. She’d never be feeding her family again. After all that she had gone through, she no longer had a family. It was just her and a kitchen with too much food. It took everything she had to ignore the plates still sitting on the counter from the day before with their dried out and remains of pancakes while she walked by toward the couch.

From the TV she could hear talking and rustling but there was no one currently standing in front of the camera and the sign was still sitting on the desk. But people were in the studio and she hoped that was a sign that an update would be coming soon.

It surprised her that she found herself able to slowly eat almost half of her breakfast. After the second cup of coffee, she felt something resembling human as she stood in front of the large living room window, looking out. There were some people on the streets and the sun still low on the horizon. A haze filled the sky and she wondered if it was from smoke or ash… or dust.

“It doesn’t feel right to say ‘Good Morning’ but Gold Beach, we’re here just the same.” Martha’s voice called from the TV as she made her way behind the desk, tucking the sign away. Deanna turned from the almost normal view outside the window and made her way toward the couch to listen.

“Information is still highly limited at this time however as always we urge all our viewers to be calm and good citizens.” Sean, the lead morning newscaster made his way into the frame and took a seat next to Martha, who looked like she had yet to sleep.

“What we know as of yet is this: There has been some sort of global mass casualty event, the cause of which is still unknown at this time. As you may or may not be aware, the United States government has declared a state of emergency and all citizens are urged to comply with all official orders. We have been advised that the National Guard is mobilizing and that each home will receive a visit from officials to provide rations and water. You are directed to stay home, stay safe.” Martha finished, running her hands through her hair and looking over to Sean, a much younger and newer face within the station.

“Public transportation systems are down and I recommend filling bathtubs and sinks with water in case the electrical gird goes down.” Sean spoke calmly, each word carefully rehearsed and each breath measured and controlled.

“No, they said we don’t have to-” Martha was shocked when Sean turned toward her, voice raising slightly. His carefully controlled exterior shattered.

“They said.” He snapped. “Have you seen a National Guard helicopter? Have you seen anyone outside of the military bases reporting any type of aid yet? We don’t know how long until they will actually get to us- if we are even a priority! They are telling the whole country the same thing. They are saying that the military is intact and that they hardly lost any men. I don’t fucking buy that.”

“Sean, you’re-”

“Scaring people? They should be scared. Mass amounts of people turned to dust with no warning and for no apparent reason. Where is word form the President? Where is his public address? Hell, it was an adviser that made the announcement and it wasn’t even broadcast correctly. We don’t even know if they are still alive.” Sean was nearly yelling now. His young face was flushed and tears were gathering in his eyes. Deanna could do nothing but watch as she sat on the couch.

“What I do know is approximately half the people I know cannot be reached. What I do know is my sister’s three week old baby turned to dust in her arms just over 24 hours ago. What I do know is that I found her hanging from the staircase this morning. I know that I drove by the burnt out shell of a school bus this morning. I know that people turned to dust and even more people died and everyone is acting like this is fucking okay. It’s not fucking okay. This is the end of the world and I’m not going to spend it waiting for the fucking government to save me. I’m getting the fuck out of here and you should too.” Sean flipped Martha the finger and stormed off the set leaving a stunned silence behind.

“I-” Martha’s voice cracked as she ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what to do. We just- we have to keep pressing forward. Taking care of each other.” Matt came into view, sitting where Sean had been and rubbed Martha’s back as she took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure no doubt. In Deanna’s living room on the other side of the city, her coffee cup slipped from her fingers.

“As always, we are committed to bringing you the facts as best we know them.” Matt started after taking a deep breath. His voice wasn’t as steady as it had been the night before and like Martha, he looked as if he had hardly slept. “There have been additional deaths at the hospital directly related to lack of staff and we urge anyone with any type of medical training or background to report to hospitals and inpatient medical facilities. Via internet reports we’ve had visuals of two downed passenger aircraft though it is unknown if there was any survivors. We can only assume there are others and that the cause was related to the events we have witnessed yesterday. I beg that you all embrace and take care of your fellow men and women as Americans and human beings.”

“We can only pray that God holds us in his hands.” Martha added, voice shaking.

“We’ll be back in a few hours with another update.” Matt added as he put up the sign again.

~~~~~<3

Deanna spent the day wrapped in her blanket. Sometimes she cried. At times she screamed and screamed until her voice gave out. She has no idea how she functioned for the rest of the day yet somehow she did. The day came to an end and again she found herself sleeping in her children’s room.

~~~~~<3

The next morning wasn’t any better. Nor was the rest of the week. She made food, ate some and drank coffee. She cried, screamed and sat in front of the TV. It could have gone on for weeks or months until she shriveled up and died.

But it didn’t.

What snapped her out of the state was being plunged into darkness. It was as if a switch flipped in her. Deanna stood, joints aching and stiff from the little movement she had done in the last week and slowly made her way over toward the window. Looking up and down the street, she simply saw darkness. It was a darkness like she had never seen before, a pure darkness unmarred by any distant glow.

Yet the longer she stood there, looking out into the darkness the more her eyes adjusted to it. There was comfort in the darkness. The moon shone brightly, reflecting off of cars and damp sidewalks. Stars filled the sky, more than she had ever seen before. It was calming and in a way forced her to see the world through a different light.

Something in the world around her had changed on a fundamental level. A good number of people all over the world was gone. The Avengers, those who proclaimed themselves to be the defenders of the Earth had battled a great enemy from somewhere she couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around and they had lost.

~~~~~<3

A week after the event that what remained of the world’s major news outlets dubbed ‘The Decimation’ it was clear that the world was struggling to figure out how to move forward. Listening to the emergency radio did nothing but prove that the world wasn’t going to just right itself any time soon. There were promises from the government that the National Guard would be providing aid but no additional information as to how or when.

They were advised time and time again to sit at home and wait. According to the news casters, some went out and opened shop or tried to distribute aid independently. No one had apparently heard from the President and many other world leaders were missing or confirmed ‘dusted’. Some had a designated next in command that was able to fill the space. Other countries were reportedly in chaos based on reports from within their boarders but in areas where the power had died, access to the internet died with cell phone batteries.

Deanna went out when the National Guard never came and went to the gas station near her home, driving along deserted roads. It was odd and peaceful. Birds chirped in trees though they were far and few between. There was a lack of birds and small creatures. It seemed that whatever being it was that decided what was worth being dusted took out avian populations along with feline.

Pulling into the parking lot, she noticed the shop windows were smashed in and glass sparkled on the pavement. It was almost pretty. Cutting the engine, Deanna stepped outside and that same glass crunched under her feet as she walked into the shop.

The shelves partially were nearly picked clean. Carefully, she gathered what supplies she could find. Every movement felt nearly automated. She hardly thought as she moved. It was better to not think, she found. If she didn’t think than she wouldn’t remember the times she had walked with the kids to this corner store to get ice cream in the summer. As she loaded up her car, the gleam of a metal baseball bat caught her eye, peeking out from behind the counter.

She debated for a moment and almost didn’t take it, then she remembered the broken windows. If people were beginning to start stealing from shops, was she really safe? One unsure step after another, she walked over toward the bat peeking out from behind the counter back inside the store. Glass crunched underfoot and reflected light. The world was silent.

Wrapping her hand around the smooth surface, she finally looked behind the counter and a scream was torn from her throat.

He must have been the shopkeeper at one time, based on his uniform. Blood pooled around the man’s misshapen head. Blood stained the green and yellow shirt a dirty brown and dried. One open eye looked out at her, accusingly. With fingers locked on the bat she jerked back, more a reaction than anything. The bat slipped out of his relaxed hand as she backed, palms scratching on glass on the ground.

She crawled away before managing to get to her feet, bat clutched in her and. Shaking legs did nothing to slow her down as she ran to her car, ripping the door open and slamming it shut before she had even fully settled into the seat. The force of the door hitting her hip would likely leave a bruise. Breaths were coming fast as she fought back panic.

Slamming the key into the ignition, she nearly screamed when the radio came to life with the same emergency deceleration message that had filled the airwaves all day. The car screeched as she rushed out of the parking lot and onto the road as if the man would rise up as a demon to claim her life for having the nerve to steal from him.

Tears gathered in her eyes but only a few escaped as she parked in front of her home. Grabbing the bat, she examined everything around her. How could she trust anyone with what she had just seen? Why? Swallowing bile, she decided it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the world she knew anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.

It took longer to unload the car and bring in the cans of food and water than she wanted or expected. Not once did she let go of the bat, causing the delay. Every Gust of wind caused her to startle. As she worked she could feel eyes on her. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end though as much as she looked around, she couldn’t spot anything different than any other day this week.

Once inside, she threw the deadbolt on the door. Going through the dark house, she checked every window and the back door. When she had purchased this home, not even a year ago she had loved the large picture windows that allowed her to keep an eye on the children playing outside. Now the large glass panes did nothing but fill her with dread.

Lighting an oil lamp that she had purchased mainly for decoration but was now very much thankful that in was functional, Deanna pulled the case of water into the hall and out of sight before going back for the bags of cans. She turned the volume down low on the emergency radio and set on the case of water. Lastly, she pulled Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s stuffed fox into the hall while clutching a can opener as if that would somehow protect her from demons.

Turning the wick down as low as she dared, she hoped no one would seek her out. On the radio, the same emergency declaration that had been playing nearly nonstop for the last few days abruptly cut off, plunging her into silence. The silence was oddly comforting, allowing her to hear the crickets outside chirping with the sun sinking behind the horizon by the minute. Part of her hoped that the silence would go on for the rest of the night. A gruff man’s voice filled the air, shattering that blessed silence.

“Good evening Cook County. Rejoice as you are now under rule of the Manson family. I am King Chris Manson and I expect that you will all kneel before me.” There was scuffling in the background before a second voice was heard, yelling in panic and fear both.

“You can’t do this. You can’t declare yourself King. This is America! We are Americans!” Rather than argue with the unknown man, gunfire filled the air.

“I can and I did.” The self proclaimed King Chris Manson calmly spoke. “For those who may be too dumb to figure it out- That man just learned what happens to those who oppose my rule. I expect as I tour my Kingdom that all residence offer a quarter of their supplies as Tax. Refuse and suffer. This isn’t America anymore. America died when it’s leaders were turned to dust. This is the Kingdom of Manson.”

“All hail King Manson!” A few voices cried out before static filled the air and Deanna turned off the radio, sitting in her self imposed silence as she tried to both think and not think. She wanted to cry but it felt like her tears had run dry. Still, the well of sadness was deep.

This was really happening. This was reality. The National Guard wasn’t coming to save her. The government wasn’t stepping in. People were dying still. People were killing each other.

~~~~~~~<3

The brittle sound of glass shattering woke her from her uneasy sleep. Deanna’s back was stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor or perhaps it was from the night prior on the Frankie’s too small bed. The lamp had gone dark at some point during the night, likely having run out of fuel.

Creeping around the corner while gripping the baseball bat, she peeked into the main room. Moonlight glittered off broken glass on the living room floor. For a moment she thought about how hard it would be to clean the glass up so that the kids didn’t find shards in the carpet. Then she remembered that it didn’t matter, she could leave the glass there for the rest of the month and the kids wouldn’t cut themselves on it. The kids won’t cut themselves on anything ever again.

The beam of a flashlight moved over the kitchen and someone was opening cabinets. They hadn’t seen her in the dark. She wasn’t well hidden but the shadows did enough to hide her. She wasn’t sure if she should just let them take what they wanted.

“Do you see Deanna?” A voice called from outside. It sounded like the children’s gym teacher, Mr. Rick.

“No.” The man in the kitchen called back as Mr. Rick walked closer, stepping over the broken window frame into the living room and Deanna realized it was the children’s teacher from the year prior, Mr. Taft. “Aurora said Deanna was always shopping. There’s lots of stuff here.”

“What are you doing?” Deanna stood, bat hanging limply from her hands as she realized she knew these people. “Why did you break the window?”

“We’re gathering supplies.” Mr. Rick said as the two beams of light settled on her, blinding her for a moment.

“That’s my food.” She dumbly observed as Mr. Taft loaded up a bag of canned goods regardless of the fact that she was standing there, watching.

“It’s ours now.” Mr. Rick answered, joining Mr. Taft in the kitchen and loading up everything he could grab. Deanna launched herself at them, dropping the bat and pulling at Mr. Taft’s arm.

“You’re a teacher for god’s sake!” She yelled.

“Was a teacher. There are no teachers anymore. There are no more students, no more schools.” Mr. Taft pushed her and she fell to the ground only for Mr. Rick to kick her, the blow connecting harshly.

Blindly she grabbed at the bat and swung. It took a few tries for the bat to connect the first time. She kept swinging until they backed away. Her chest was heaving and panic was welling inside of her as she swung and swung. Tears fueled by panic filled her eyes. It didn’t register that they had abandoned their spoils and left the way they had come until the bat was hitting nothing but cabinets and floor, the hollow sound filling the still air.

Deanna didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she crawled through her house, trying to accomplish her goals without drawing any attention to her home. Carefully, she pulled toward the front door a pillow and blankets. By dawn she had a pile of stuff that wouldn’t even begin to cover all her needs for the foreseeable future. Yet it would have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

@usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @dangertoozmanykids101, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl

#clint x reader #clint barton x oc #Clint Barton x Female Reader #clint barton x reader #clint x oc #clint barton fanfiction

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flannelpunkcalum · 5 years

Text

The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7

oh my god you guys we’re so close to shit finally going down it’s gonna rock your fucking worlds and I cannot WAIT for you to undergo it it’s gonna be so much fun. also i know jack shit about charity galas so like... watch out for that. or botanical gardens, for that matter. anyway enjoy! pls tell me what you think this is my baby

Calum invites Aspen to a gala and it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her.

Well, technically it’s a fundraiser for the Gotham City Children’s Organization. Also, she’s gonna be more of an employee, strictly speaking, than a guest. And Mr. Hood really only asked her to work there this Friday evening, she’s not, like, his date or anything. He kinda sprang this whole thing on her. To be completely honest, too, it’s probably only the most exciting thing to happen to her in, like, two months, because she’s cool, goddamnit.

Anyway, Aspen is going to be working overtime this Friday evening and she couldn’t be happier.

She’s been wound up about this since he told her Tuesday. She’s gonna dress up all nice, she’s gonna rub elbows with the Gotham elite, she’s gonna unhinge her jaw like a python and eat an entire tray of canapés - it’ll be good for her.

They’ve all been stressed.

For her, it’s just that it hasn’t been long since the Liam fiasco. That was rough. And for his part, Calum looks more and more worn down. The tabloids in the grocery store checkout line told her he’s not seeing that nurse or reporter or whoever it was anymore. He’s been stiff lately, with bags under his eyes despite whatever million-dollar face cream he’s doubtlessly using. If she wasn’t being very disciplined about their relationship she’d tease him to switch away from decaf. Maybe he’s sick, she thinks. Could be the flu. Compromised immune system and whatnot.

He’s under a lot of stress, now, after the murder.

Trident Incorporated was next, in the string of CEO attacks, and it was so much worse, this time around. The police found the Barton Mathis’ body shot in the head with hundred dollar bills stuffed in his mouth. Aspen knows because she made sure Mr. Hood got to the funeral on time.

It’s… worrying. Worrying because her pattern holds; they’d been just about to sign a big contract with Trident when the man was killed. She knows it’s crazy, Calum wouldn’t kill someone. No matter how cold he may come off. She hopes so, anyways. Sometimes his mood changes like that, and even if he didn’t pull the trigger, this is Gotham. There are any number of people who would do it for the right price. It’s the money down the victim’s throat, of all things, that makes her change her mind. She’s seen his car - money certainly doesn’t disgust him.

So Calum isn’t the killer, probably. But that still scares her.

Because he’s probably next.

He doesn’t get a bodyguard. He doesn’t amp up security, he doesn’t tell Aspen about a panic room or anything. It’s like he hasn’t fucking realized the danger he’s in. Aspen knows it’s not her job to stress about that, but that doesn’t mean that creeping horror hasn’t settled into her ribs. All she can do is keep her mouth shut and help him through the financial quarter ending, which is no fucking picnic either, in case you were wondering. She gets used to working late.

So, yeah, she could use a break. They all could.

Friday morning, she brings her dress with her, folded up in a plastic grocery bag. That morning, when she hands over the coffee, Alfred passes her a suit in a garment bag as soon as her hands are free. “Do try not to wrinkle it before the event, Master Calum.” He says, giving Aspen a little wink like he knows she’d never do such a thing.

Calum rolls his eyes at both of them, but he’s the closest to smiling he’s been in days.

“And you’ve got your outfit?” He ask her as they step into the elevator.

She nods and wiggles the plastic shopping bag hanging off her wrist. “Don’t worry, sir, I’m going to look very fiscally responsible.” She’s taking donations at the event, so she’s already wearing her most accountant-like cardigan, but she’s gonna class it up this evening. Her nails are painted, and they’re not chipped yet or anything.

Anyway, he smiles distinctly at that. She likes being able to do that. It’s like a magic trick. “It’s good to see you smiling again. Thought maybe you forgot how.” Aspen says, and this time she doesn’t even try to stop herself. She’s been very good for the past few weeks, and she needs a rest from acting soulless and polite. Really, she’s just being nice.

“What?” Mr. Hood turns to look at her. Maybe she’s been more serious than she thought, if he’s that surprised to hear her tease him.

“I mean, you’ve had some rough days. ‘M glad to see you looking a little more relaxed.” Aspen delicately refrains from making a joke, and just gives him a little shrug and the truth. It seems like this means a lot to him, anyway - it feels like the first time he’s looked at her and seen her in ages. That feeling comes back, the one she buried. “And, y’know, it makes my job a lot easier when you’re in a good mood. No offense. Sir.” She covers it again, hastily, and like a spell’s been broken the elevator doors open and she steps into the lobby.

“None taken,” she hears him murmur from behind her as she maneuvers herself and the bag through his office door. “You know when the car’s coming, right?”

“At three.” She slips easy into the day-to-day talk, like an old sweater. It’s welcome. She feels like she’s burning under her skin and from nothing. This is why it has to be so stiff; there’s so much she risks with too-kind words. “Guests start to arrive at four thirty, your talk is at five-thirty, and then at 8 there’s the after-gala at Note Bene.”

“You’re invited to that, too.” Aspen turns around from hanging up his garment bag. Mr. Hood is looking at her from behind his desk, adjusting his sleeves - maybe just so he has something to do with his hands. “You could come along. I didn’t know if you would want to but- you seem excited for this.”

Aspen tells herself he’s offering to be polite, which- he must be. She can’t fool herself like that. It’s the stupid chemistry, that’s all, it’s getting to her, and if she ignores it long enough it’ll go away. “Thank you, but that’s not really my scene, I think.” She smiles, shrugs. “Anything else I can help you with while I’m in here, sir?”

“No. Thank you for all you help with the event, though, Aspen. I’m glad to have someone I can trust in charge of donations.” He says. She remembers in her interview, only three weeks ago, how he had eyes that pinned her to the wall. She feels it in his gaze now, too.

She can’t linger.

“Just doing my job!” She chirps, darting out the door and closing it softly behind her.

She thought she was over this, what the fuck?

It’s not a great time for these feelings to resurface, since he’ll probably be looking real real good in his suit this afternoon. There’s isn’t really a good time to get a crush on your boss, though. Being so impersonal had been driving Aspen crazy, but the second she relaxes around that man she gets weak; maybe this time she’ll learn her lesson.

She gets to work. She’s sifting through emails when the first phone call of the day comes through, and she checks the clock - it’s not even nine yet. That’s interesting. She’s not suspicious, though, not yet.

“Hood Enterprises, how can I help you?” She asks in her very best secretary voice.

“Hello, Detective Gordon, GCPD. I need to talk to Mr. Hood.”

Aspen feels like a stutter. Shit. Does this mean - is her boss some kind of Patrick Bateman or - the lie comes to her in a split second. “Well, he usually doesn’t come in until nine, but I’ll see if I missed him coming in. Just one moment, alright?” She smiles, even though the man on the other end can’t see it, and as soon as he agrees she puts him on hold and transfers to call Calum.

Aspen’s been touched by Calum. She knows he’s not a killer. But if he’s mixed up in- if this is about Don Falcone, or- no matter how she tries to justify it, her first instinct was to protect him however she could. That’s foolish, she knows. But here she is.

Calum picks up before she can lose her liar’s nerve. “There’s a detective from the GCPD on the line for you.” She explains, praying she at least doesn't sound paranoid. “I was wondering if you were in.”

It's calculating, the silence on the other line. They're both careful not to say too much, even in normal situations, but this… it's a little more delicate.

“Did they mention their name?” He asks, which relaxes Aspen a little. It's not the worst answer he could have given.

“Ah, a Detective Gordon.” She says, which seems to be the right answer, because he asks her to connect him.

Aspen does, and then she has to hang up and live with what just happened, which is better than talking to a policeman. Only just, though.

She thinks Calum can't get mad at her for thinking he could have something to hide if he didn't want to talk on the phone. Worst comes to worst, she'll say she wasn't sure if he'd want a lawyer or not. She knows he won't buy it, but it's a fair defence.

Now that she's got that figured out, she turns her attention to what her boss is hiding. Some offshore bank accounts? Or maybe Gordon is some cop he's paying off, to hide a secret double life. Maybe he's doing something wicked, just for the thrill of it. She’d say something related to escorts, but Aspen's pretty confident there's no one he couldn't have if he really wanted, so that's out.

Usually Aspen loves thinking up great and improbable theories for things she doesn't understand. It's different now, with Calum. She's got respect for him, and she doesn't want to lose that. It's probably healthy for her to drop her romanticized vision of him so she can get some fucking work done, if she's honest, but… god, she doesn't want to. Even after three weeks of being snapped at, she still sees a beauty in him, and that's rare. She kind of wants to chase that.

She keeps herself from thinking too much by listening to the phone messages that people left last night. Shit, she’s probably gonna have to come back in after the gala, isn’t she? Lots of emergencies and news happens at the end of the day, she should really- shit, no, this isn’t working, she can’t focus. She’s still turned upside down by what her boss might be involved in.

She tells herself she’s just worried for her job security. It doesn’t change anything.

She’s watching out of the corner of her eye and she sees when the line Calum’s being called on goes dead. How long is he going to wait before he called her in? He’s gonna want to talk about this, and ooh, who knew who could be listening? Wait, that’s a little cloak and dagger, even for her.

That’s what she thinks at the time, anyway. She has no idea.

He gives it only about a minute before he calls her and asks her to come into his office. It must be important, then. Aspen’s almost more curious than nervous; she’s pretty sure something is up, but she’s excited to see how Calum tries to brush it off. She steps in and smiles like she has no idea what to expect, like nothing’s wrong. “How can I help you?”

He’s writing something when she comes in, which she’s starting to think is a defence mechanism. He doesn’t make her wait, though, he puts his pen down as soon as she speaks up. “Oh, I just wanted to say that appreciate your discretion.” He says, face carefully controlled.

Very eloquent, he’s very good at this. She’s almost reassured. “Absolutely, sir. Should I do the same thing every time the police call, or-”

“You can transfer Gordon through directly, but otherwise… please. Yes.” He smiles stiffly, and Aspen can’t help it, she takes it as a challenge. She’s gonna find out what’s going on.

It’s like he can read her mind, because he says “None of that, Miss McMichael, don’t give me that look.” Aspen startles. Was it really that obvious? Does she have a look? She’s almost in trouble, judging by how he’s addressing her.

Her heart starts to pound despite herself. “A cat may look at a king, sir.” She tries to cover, but that asshole sees right through her.

“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about this, alright? Detective Gordon was letting me know about the security at the fundraiser. After the- um, I think you understand why it’s essential for our guests to feel safe.”

Shit.

Okay, maybe Aspen was a little hasty. “Of course, sir.” She says, making her most sympathetic face. Fuck, one of his peers was just murdered, no wonder he’s in touch with the police. She’d be nervous and shifty, too.

...it doesn’t quite explain why he only wants to hear from Gordon, but she’ll save that for later.

She makes a quick exit, now, after mumbling updates about all the messages she’s sifted through. A lot of people want to talk to Calum this morning, and as soon as business hours start he’s kept on the line pretty solidly through the morning and afternoon. In the middle of one of his phone calls, around noon, she sneaks in and puts a granola bar on his desk, and she’s out before she can see if he smiles at her for it. It’s been a, um, weird morning, and she wants to avoid anything that champagne could catalyze tonight. She’s just being a good PA, to be sure, but still.

The day drags on until three in the afternoon. Fifteen minutes before the car is supposed to come (god, Aspen feels so fancy when she thinks that), she shuts her computer down and stands up. Since the incident with Liam, she’s taken to locking the schedule in her file cabinet, just to be safe, so that’s what she does before she sneaks out of her office to get changed.

Aspen knows she’s not supposed to be attracting attention at this thing, so she’s dressed a little like a librarian. She borrowed a black slip dress from her roommate (since Aspen hasn’t bought a dress since, like, prom), and she’s wearing a grey cardigan over it to keep her looking tepid. Now, smoothing out the skirt in the bathroom mirror, she thinks happily that she’s not completely sexless.

She knows that’s dangerous, given her feelings for her boss (ugh), but since he doesn’t reciprocate what’s the harm in looking like a sexy librarian? The confidence will probably fade as soon as she’s surrounded by whatever designer tea gowns the guests will be wearing, but she doesn’t mind.

“You look nice,” Janice tells her once she emerges, and Aspen appreciates the gesture.

“Aw, thanks. I was going for an outfit that said ‘trust me with thousands of dollars’, you think it’ll go over well?” She smiles, and Janice nods. “I think I’m gonna come back after the thing just to check messages, so don’t worry about answering my phone.” She adds as she’s heading back to her desk, grabbing her coat and bag.

When she turns around, she sees Calum.

Here’s the thing; she knew he would look good. He looks good all the time, just business casual, but he looks good now, in a suit that looks expensive and tailored and beautiful. Fuck this, honestly, Aspen’s gonna have to avoid him all night to keep from making a fool of herself.

She blinks to take him in, and their eyes meet. He was looking at her, he must have been, looking properly. She knows she can’t hold a candle to him, not in her begged and borrowed outfit, but the fucking electricity between them makes her hope for a second-

“Ready to go?” He asks her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was smirking.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Aspen says. Her voice comes out so much smoother than she feels.

How’s she supposed to handle the car ride? Being in a small enclosed space with him sounds like too good of an idea right now.

She waves goodbye to Janice as they head out, and she busies herself with the tablet he gave her for taking donations in the elevator so she has an excuse not to look at him too long. It reminds her that, right, she could get in serious trouble if she doesn’t stay focused here today, and that cools her down enough to relax a little.

Aspen had been hoping that Calum would have a limo to take there, so when it’s his usual sedan waiting outside she feels a little let down. It doesn’t make sense for him to take a limo if he’s showing up before everyone else, she guesses, no one to show off for, but she had been hoping... Whatever. Alfred opens the door for her, and she slides in and immediately finds herself next to a kid with black hair and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. He’s little, wiry, and he’s maybe twelve. Calum follows her in, and maybe he senses her confusion. “Aspen, this is my ward, Dick Grayson. Dick, this is my assistant, Ms. McMichael.”

Dick Grayson puts out his hand to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, miss.” He says, with confidence you don’t usually find in a pre-teen.

Aspen is used to things being weird by now, so she reaches out and shakes his hand, just to be polite. “Likewise. Hey, you can call me Aspen, people only call me Ms. McMichael when I’m in trouble.” She smiles, just to put the kid a little more at ease. It’s eerie, seeing someone so young so formal.

It seems to work well enough, because as the car starts Dick smiles so wide his face almost cracks open. That’s better. “I read one of your research papers. About, um, the protein in the cell membrane, the, um, it was a sort of, um, ATP pump, the-”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, the effects of the SNP mutation- I remember. How’d you like it?”

Dick screws up his face and then immediately tries to smooth it out, regain his composure. He’s still trying to be polite, Aspen thinks, which is adorable but so not her style. Plus, he’s like eleven, he shouldn’t have composure. “It was-” he says-

“Godawful to read, right?” Aspen slouches back into the car seat, hoping if she relaxes the kid will relax. This might be the first time she’s slouched in front of Calum, she thinks, but she tries to ignore how she knows that.

She knows what she’ll see if she looks over at her boss; him watching her intently with those eyes like stars, some bright fire burning inside him. His eyes have a light to them she can’t escape. She thinks he does it with everyone - he’s been giving her looks like this since the interview, after all.

Sometimes she likes to pretend it’s just for her, though. She can feel the fabric of his suit pants brushing against her bare leg, and sometimes the warm weight of his thigh when the car turned the corner. This backseat doesn’t nearly feel big enough for the three of them, all in a row. She can’t believe her brain’s going haywire just because he’s close.

She focuses on the child beside her, on the science. That’s what she knows, not people. She knows the proteins and serums they’re made of, but even her own human heart is confusing. “Scientific writing can be - it’s hard to be accurate and interesting at the same time. It’s kind of stupid. But, hey, we’ve got like, fifteen minutes of this car ride, if you have any questions I’ll answer them.” She says.

“You don’t have to,” she hears, and Calum touches her elbow softly. It burns through her cardigan. How does he do that? “Dick knows you’re not here to entertain him.” She turns to look at him, catches his eye, and oh- it’s that look, she knew it.

Her mouth goes dry. She tries to ignore it.

“Nah, it’s my pleasure. You haven’t let me talk about science for two weeks, I’m deprived.” She finds it in her to scold right back. She controls her movement as she turns back to Dick Grayson, so it doesn’t look like she’s trying to break his gaze before she combusts. “Anything I can help you understand?”

“What’s an ATP?”

That’s how Aspen spends the car ride, then, instead of thinking about the man beside her. It seems to work; by the time they reach the venue she’s not as jittery, as raw, as she might be. And hey, to his credit, Dick is a good kid; he’s excited to learn what he can and he laughs at her jokes. Aspen likes that in anyone.

The venue is the Gotham Botanical Gardens, which Aspen is also real excited about. She’s going to sneak into the greenhouses if she gets the chance, but for now she keeps pace with Mr. Hood and Dick Grayson as they weave their way through the armed guards. There’s at least two cop cars that she can see - it all seems a little extreme to her, but it’s Gotham. She glances over at Dick - he seems a little freaked out, too. At least it’s not just her delicate sensibilities.

As soon as they’re into the ballroom - ballroom, Jesus, this city is extravagant when it gets the chance - Calum is dragged away by a harried man in a very nice suit. Someone shows Aspen to a table and introduces her to the woman who’ll be making sure any checks that are written don’t go missing. Renee Montoya has a gun at her hip and iron in her stare, but Aspen gets her talking about her work and eventually the woman warms up. Things seem to be going smoothly with the preparations (she’s keeping an eye on Calum, it’s her job, okay?) when suddenly there’s a BANG and someone screams.

Montoya actually pushes Aspen behind her as she takes out her gun, all in one smooth motion, and half the cops around the room are doing the same, searching for the source of the noise.

It’s happening. This is it. Aspen looks for Calum instinctively, can’t find him, oh, shi-

“Shit, goddamn it- we’re okay, everybody, Jesus, this kid-”

Time unfreezes. The police officer who swore is clutching his wrist, almost doubled over, but there’s no blood. Aspen lowers her fists. She’s not sure when she got into a fighting stance, but as she relaxes and the officers lower their guns she feels a little silly for it.

They’re all on edge, she supposes.

Her next thought is to find Dick. There’s only one kid in this building, at least as far as she knows, and she does not underestimate his capacity for trouble.

Another look around find both him and Calum - Aspen feels like she’s intruding, seeing them hug on the other side of the ballroom. Plus of course he’s a good father figure, because apparently the universe hates her and wants her to suffer.

She supposes she’s gotten attached to Dick, that’s why she strides over as they start to part. Dick isn’t crying, but he does look a moment from it when she comes up. Aspen’s not exactly nurturing, she doesn’t know if she can help, but she wants to. “Hey, you doing alright? What happened?” She asks him.

Dick looks up at Calum, who nods at him to tell her. It’s sweet. “I was looking for the bathroom and the officer found me. I think he thought I was lost, but he grabbed my shoulder an’ I didn’t know he was there and I panicked. I made a mistake.”

Aspen can’t blame him for being shaken. “Well, it is bad manners to grab people.” She says. Dick kind of cracks a smile at that. “Hey, it’s only a mistake if you let it happen again, that’s what I think. Don’t worry too much about it.”

When she glances up, Calum is smiling. “Do you mind staying with Dick until the guests start to arrive?” He asks her. “The planner’s had three separate crises since we got here.”

Aspen nods. “I’m good with that as long as you are.” She says to Calum’s ward, who looks unsure, but nods.

That’s a good sign. She’s glad he’s okay.

As soon as Calum’s gone she focuses in on the boy, who looks at her solidly. He is a little old for her to be babysitting him, but for now she’s free to goof around, so she doesn’t mind. “Did you find anything cool while you were looking for the bathroom? I’ve been trying to sneak into the greenhouses since we got here.”

“Just the kitchens.” Dick says, shaking his head.

Fuck yes. “Just the kitchens? Buddy, we gotta check it out. I’m sure if you look sad and cute enough they’ll give us all kinds of leftovers.”

“You think?”

“Give me your best puppy-dog eyes.” Aspen says.

Dick complies.

“Jesus, you are good. Those chefs aren’t gonna know what hit them.”

#yes there are kitchens at the gardens #this is gotham #the gardens were build with rich people and their comfort in mind #anyway things are about to get good #my writing #twdk #the devil wears kevlar #calum hood fic #calum hood series #5sos series #5sos fic #ch blurb #ceo!cal #batman!au

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dokidoki-tae · 5 years

Note

I done hurt my hand in a fight (definitely did not trip in the grocery store) and now I can’t use it, plus the shoulder on the other arm was already injured. Could I get some HCs for the bucci gang taking care of me?

Just realized that this was the wrong smut dealer, so sorry. (But I’d love it if you still wrote them

I know you sent this request to me by mistake, but I wanted to give writing Bucci gang a try. I’m sorry if this is not what you’re expecting.

Bruno: After inspecting it on his own and tending to it as best hecould, he insists you see a professionalimmediately. He is not an expert in medical care and does not want to doanything to make your injury worse. While he is decent at fixing injuries suchas cuts, anything beyond surface level injuries are out of his realm and is notwilling to risk his subordinate’s physical health. If you fight him on it, hewill pull rank and chew you out for insubordination regardless if you’re in a publicspace. Normally, Bruno would be calmer and more rational about these sorts ofthings, but your additional injury worked at his nerves and added to his concernfor you. He will accompany you to the hospital, acting as your driver and lecturingyou about being more careful and to think about yourself before putting yourselfin situations where you will get hurt. Once at the hospital, he asks if youwant him to wait or go with you. Up until that point, Bruno was simply a guide,a leader looking out for his teammate, when he asks you if you want him to waitor accompany you, he asks as a friend and caretaker. After, Bruno assignshimself your duties when he puts you on medical leave for your shoulder and handto heal properly.

Abbacchio: By the way he’s acting, you’d think he felt no sympathy orconcern for you or your well-being often watching you struggle to do things foryourself and walking away when one of the others come in to help you. What youdon’t know is that Abbacchio goes and says, “[Name], needs help. Go help them.”And that’s when help arrives. After some time, Abbacchio will step up to helpyou after it pisses him off that you insist on doing things on your own. He canbe an unpleasant, brash and abrasive man, but he cares about his teammates eventhough he has a hard time admitting it. He may soften up and ask you how you got your injuries, and scowl as you tell him, berating you for being careless but leavesit at that. As you heal, Abbacchio findshimself helping you with little things more and more while still giving you heatfor being injured in the first place. He does smirk and says, “Don’t think youdon’t own me a few favors for all the help I’ve given you.” That just means youtake him out to a nice meal and a glass of wine.

Fugo: He’s upset and not gentle when he checks on you, causing youto grimace when he inspects you. He didn’t expect it to hurt you that much, sohe’s gentler afterward. During the time, he’s lecturing you about being justlike Mista and Narancia, about being reckless as them. “Do I have to worryabout you too?” He sighs. Once he determines it’s nothing serious, he gives youinstruction on what to do. He orders you to rest your hand for 1-2 days, ice itfor 15-20 minutes every hour as he goes out to buy you a splint. While he’saway, he calls Narancia to make sure you do everything he tells you. After,Fugo can’t always be there to check on you, but he does pair you up withsomeone who can relieve you of some duties until your injuries heal. He gives you easier tasks to do that doesn’t require much effort and sometimes assigns you to work with him because he claims he can’t trust you with Mista or Narancia or even Abbacchio because he feels like they’ll just put you in situations that make your injury worse.

Narancia: He’s eager to take care of you. Most of the time, he’sthe one getting injured but now it’s the other way around. He almost seems gladyou’re injured by how giddy and enthusiastic he gets when doing things for you.He offers to feed you whatever meal you’re eating. He overestimates the extentof your injury at times and sometimes intervenes in whatever you’re doing. Heenjoys it when you thank or praise him for being helpful. This only happens whenit’s you or Bruno, anyone else and Narancia wouldn’t even think twice aboutassisting them. He says, “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll help!”often. If you two are ordered to go shopping,he carries all the bags even if you insist you can help him with at least carryingsomething in your non-injured hand. He smiles and says, “I got it! You don’thave to worry about a thing!”

Mista: He forgets every now and then that you’re injured. Sometimeswhen you’re in the kitchen grabbing stuff, he doesn’t notice you struggling untilthe Pistols appear and pester him about being inconsiderate and mean for injuringyou when you’re clearly wincing in pain. After, he’s more mindful and watchesto see if you’re doing alright. He’ll step in if he thinks you’re overexertingyourself. When eating together and depending on the food, he tries to make thingsare easy as possible for you, often cutting your food into smaller pieces foryou if it calls for it. The Pistols are also very helpful, more so than Mista. Theywill follow you around and ask if they can help you with anything, zippingaround the place getting you things and bringing them to you. They are anextension of Mista, so they represent what Mista wants to do but is still alittle shy to do it.

Giorno: Despite his ability, he does not use it to heal you. Infact, he is very explicit about it. He will NOT use Gold Experience to healnon-life-threatening injuries. In a way, he wants you (and the others) to learnyou cannot needlessly put yourself in harmful situations and expect him to healyou because he will not always be there to help. That reliance could lead you andothers to put yourself in harm’s way. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, so bysetting these rules, he expects you to be more careful and not do anythingreckless. He already deals with Mista and Narancia getting into harebrainedschemes. He will let it heal naturally, so you have that whole time to thinkabout your actions. He sighs when he learns about your additional injury. Heexamines your hands and determines that it’s a just a sprained hand and lightlyteases you about being as troublesome as Mista and Narancia. He may heal yourshoulder now that you have another injury; he doesn’t want you to make things TOOdifficult for you after all. When spending time with him, he will do things foryou even though you have use of your other hand. He takes pleasure in being ableto help someone dear to him.

#shay replies #jojo hcs #giorno giovanna #guido mista #abbacchio leone #bruno buccellati #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #we3tyr

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comeandreadawhile · 6 years

Text

Congrats, It’s a Spider-Boy

Marvel MCU

3,735 Words

While trying to help explain electrophoresis, Tony and Peter don’t quite get the results they’d expected to receive.

Pepper had, like most nights recently, been thankful for having bought enough groceries to prep another batch of the recipe used for dinner. While teenagers were known to be voracious eaters, she was quite sure very few boys in the world found themselves as in need of calories as Peter. She enjoyed having him and his aunt over for dinner, or any meal really, and seeing Peter eat his fill.

She took another bite of her own food while thinking back to how livid Tony had been when told the boy had nearly fainted at eight stories up because Peter had been too busy to grab either breakfast or lunch that day. Pepper also recalled calling May Parker in her own fit of concern following being informed of Peter’s hazardous decision to still patrol, and quite quickly the boy found himself with a snack pouch in his suit.

Looking back up to see the two heroes discussing Peter’s day, special attention being awarded to his advanced biology class, she couldn’t help a small smile that tugged at her lips. The two could’ve been related with how similar they looked; while Peter’s hair may have been lighter by a shade, it still reminded her of how Tony’s looked on the days he forewent any styling products. She could pinpoint similarities in the sharp edges and rounder curves of their faces; most similar were the brown eyes.

Peter’s were the same earthy shade of brown as Tony’s, but as she’d been told, the boy had inherited his eyes and their shape from his mother, Mary. Glancing over to where May was also quietly enjoying her food and the boys’ banter, Pepper could see the fondness in her eyes for her nephew. She could agree; it was hard not to be enamored with such a sweet kid. As Peter rattled on about what his class had been learning in way of DNA and its analysis, she could see the positive effect the boy had had on Tony’s mood just from how the billionaire looked at him. Pepper realized she must’ve been spacing out when May’s voice broke through her thoughts and the boys’ conversation.

“What does that big science word mean, exactly?” it was evident from her grin that May didn’t take any offense to being left out of the conversation, but Peter’s cheeks and ears turned pink anyway.

“Something to do with electricity? We aren’t going over it until Tuesday so I don’t really know.”

Tony took a sip of water before chiming in, “Electrophoresis basically means ‘stick this sample in some gel, electrocute it, and it’ll break up the proteins and such so new mothers and the police can find out who did what’.”

Peter nodded, though looking curious of the process before adding on, “Yup, what he said. Exactly that.” His statement received a snort from Tony.

“I can have a machine delivered in a couple days; you can come back up and I’ll show you how it works and how to read the bands somewhat accurately.” Peter’s entire being seemed to light up at the proposal, and the vigorous nod he gave was all the answer Tony seemed to need before telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to place an express order. Both women chuckled and shook their heads fondly before turning their attention back to their plates.

Happy had been less than pleased where upon delivering Peter to the lab a few days later he’d also been asked for a small blood sample. ‘For science, of course,’ he mocked, all the while still taking the lancet and Tony’s offer of the rest of the day off.

Peter did homework while waiting for Tony to finish prepping the samples for the smaller-than-expected machine on the next table over (while still explaining what he was doing), all the while finding some humor in his and Tony’s matching racecar Band-Aids on their fingers; he didn’t fail to point out when given the bandage that ‘of course Tony Stark has racecar Band-Aids’. “Why not enjoy the small things in life like fun Band-Aids?” Tony had responded, to which Peter could only nod his assent.

At the sound of something on the machine shutting, Peter perked up to see Tony pressing some button and stepping away from the table.

“And now we wait.”

Peter cocked his head to the side, “So why did we have Happy give us a sample?”

Tony clapped his hands together, “Imagine, if you will my little Spiderling, our dear Mr. Hogan finds a limited edition box set of every season of Downton Abbey in his local second-hand store,” Tony pauses to allow Peter to let out a snort. “Now, for some reason he has none of the salary he earns and cannot simply leave this treasure for someone else to have, so he takes it. Upon making a mad dash for the exit because an employee saw him, he crashes through the automatic door before it fully opens and glass goes everywhere. Happy cuts himself, all the while keeping a tight grip on the box set, and peels out of the parking lot without anyone catching the license plate; therefore the police must resort to matching the blood left on the glass and some convenient spit on a used glass cup to catch our period-story loving thief.”

Peter gave a slow clap for the on-the-spot story, “Alright that was pretty good. Now what about my sample and yours?”

Tony pulled up a chair to the other side of the table, “We’re going to compare ours; say I’m suspicious as to the source of your boyish charm and impressive IQ so I want a paternity test done to see if I owe May over a decade’s worth of child support.”

Peter flipped his pencil between his fingers, a small smirk pulled at his mouth, “How do I know that isn’t the double motive? Help me with a biology concept and make sure you aren’t actually responsible for creating yours truly?” Tony gave him an amused side eye for the question.

“When were you conceived, again?”

The question elicited a chuckle from Peter. “Funny enough, May told me my mom came to her to tell her the good news about a month after my dad got back from a long research trip.”

Tony rose from his chair to cross around the table, “Few trimesters later and one of the finest young men I’ve ever known is born, right?” he says, ruffling Peter’s hair. “I’m gonna go ask Pepper if she wants a pizza delivered; let me know when F.R.I.D.A.Y. says the machine is done doing its thing.”

The end of a breadstick poked out of Tony’s mouth as he split up the results from the tests, Peter looking over his shoulder as he did so. Taking the half-eaten breadstick from his lips and gesturing to the identical bands of proteins to their left Tony started, “So, as we can see, the two samples from the blood and the spit on the drink prove that our dear Happy is now the forehead of box set theft. Now looking over at our sadly negative paternity test…” He trailed off, gesturing toward the other set of results with the breadstick before taking a bite from it.

Peter squinted, not from not being able to see but from confusion, “Okay so…” he began, “They don’t look terribly different. How can you tell that it’s negative?” Looking back up at Tony, Peter saw him look more closely at the results, lifting a finger to point out differences before freezing at seeing how many bands matched. Suddenly, Peter saw the older man’s eyes widen a fraction, and an almost imperceptible shiver shook his frame. “Mr. Stark?” A cold weight started to settle in Peter’s stomach from Tony’s silence.

Peter almost didn’t hear his answer.

“Because it’s not…” Tony muttered out before taking a shaky breath. “I think I might owe May that child support…” They both jumped when F.R.I.D.A.Y. took that moment to speak up.

“Congratulations, Boss. It’s a boy!”

When Tony addressed the A.I., Peter thought he sounded on the brink of losing composure. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. check any time around nine months before Peter was born that I would’ve been in proximity to Mary Parker. Cross reference those results with any times Richard Parker was documented to be away on trips longer than a few days; get back to me with what you find.”

“Yes, Boss.”

A cold wave of realization started to wash over Peter that this wasn’t some sort of prank, as Tony wasn’t one to neither play them nor act this emotional for any he did. DNA didn’t lie, but denial still rooted itself firmly in the front of Peter’s mind despite the holographic bands of proteins halfway matching between the two samples. He vaguely registered F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaking again. “Around the time Peter would’ve been conceived, you and Mary Parker were both speaking at a multidisciplinary, scientific conference in New York. The conference occurred three weeks after Richard Parker departed for a research trip to Europe, and two weeks before his return to the country.”

Peter could feel his heart pounding in his ears; there was no way F.R.I.D.A.Y. would lie about this, as blunt as she was. The implications of what she said started to merge with the holograms beginning to burn his eyes, the bright blue neon becoming less like distinct shapes and more a blurry haze. He distantly registered Tony had begun pacing behind him; trying the stave off what Peter guessed was panic.

His heart nearly leapt out of his throat when a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his middle, and Peter could feel Tony shaking against his frame. The normally confident man sounded so small, even so close to Peter’s ears.

“Peter, I’m…I didn’t know, I swear, I…”

“Mr. Stark, I—“, Peter was cut off, suddenly turned about face. Tony held him tight, and Peter’s chin rested just on Tony’s collar. He felt the older man shudder, and heard something akin to a choked sob.

“I swore if it ever happened, I’d be better than my dad. I always thought the mother would come forward, I—“ Tony’s rambling briefly cut off to allow for another shaky breath. “I can’t believe I missed fifteen years!” The apology and self-directed anger dripped from the exclamation.

Peter felt a hand move to the back of his head, and he was pressed even tighter into Tony’s shoulder; he could smell the pizza they’d ordered for dinner, and Tony’s signature cologne; a smell he’d gotten used to finding comfort in lately. Peter wasn’t going to point out that Tony shouldn’t have been sorry for something neither of them had known about, but then the fact hit Peter that most of his life has essentially been a lie. Not that blood really mattered but still, he had believed for his entire life that he was Richard Parker’s biological son, and yet here was the evidence in its bright blue holographic glory that he wasn’t. He and May technically weren’t related anyway, but she was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother that he could remember. A terrifying thought came to him at the realization.

“Do I have to leave May?” Peter tried not to think about how choked and small his voice sounded. He found relief in the fact that instead of pulling away from him, Tony only held him tighter.

“I’m not about to take you from the only stable parent you’ve had for the last decade. Moms are important. We need to call yours about this soon…”

Peter gripped the sides of Tony’s tee-shirt as he pulled away from him. The older man sniffed and used the hand that had been on Peter’s head to wipe what beginnings of tears there were in his eyes, before using both hands to cup Peter’s face. “Fifteen years…” Peter could see Tony trying to brighten his expression, “You think I could get May to send me pictures of you growing up or would that be creepy?”

A wet laugh shook Peter’s frame, and he could feel calloused thumbs running under his eyes; he hadn’t realized he’d been tearing up. Suddenly Peter felt the weight of Tony’s chin atop his head, and once more he was settled into Tony’s shoulder. “I’m gonna make up for lost time, I swear. I’m gonna be here for you. If you thought I was overprotective before you just wait, young man!” Peter could feel the vibrations of Tony speaking where his ear pressed against the older man’s throat, and he hummed at the promises made.

“You mean it?” Peter had said it jokingly, and wasn’t prepared for how deadly serious Tony’s tone turned.

“Peter, I swear on my life I’m going to do everything I can to be a proper father to you if you’ll have me.”

Tony felt Peter clutch onto the back of his shirt, and nod furiously into his shoulder. He felt the fabric on his shoulder get wet and warm, and he chocked it up to Peter being overwhelmed (he was too) at a third father in his life. Tony knew he wasn’t the ideal role model, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make an effort to make up for missing this kid’s childhood. Maybe in a different life Mary would’ve realized who the father of her baby was, and maybe he’d have seen Peter born, and learn to speak, and hold his hand as he took his first steps. But that was then, and here and now he had proof that the kid he pretty much accepted responsibility for as his own was in fact his baby.

Peter was his baby. Although a bit out of his character, as Peter continued soaking his shirt with tears, Tony pressed moved the boy’s bangs and pressed his lips to Peter’s temple. “I’m gonna do right by you, I promise,” he said, returning his chin to the crown of Peter’s head. As the shock of discovery slowly waned, Tony could feel the growing warmth of affection spread through his core, stronger than it ever had been previously.

“I should call May…” As he reluctantly began to let go of Peter, the boy suddenly stopped him.

“Mr. Stark?”

He’d been trying to tell Peter he could call him Tony for several weeks, but with their new discovery the formal title seemed ever more distant and hollow.

“Yeah?”

“Does this mean I get to call Vision ‘little brother’?”

The snort he let out turned into a deep laugh, and the grin Peter sported showed he was quite proud of himself.

“Absolutely, and I want you to make sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. gets a recording of Vision’s face the first time it happens.” He pushed Peter back toward his unfinished homework, knowing full well the boy wouldn’t be able to work seriously on it at the moment, as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed May’s number. After a couple rings the other line picked up.

“Tony? It’s kinda late, is Peter alright?”

Tony let out a good-natured scoff. “I’m sure you’ll find that debatable, but I can assure you the little darling is just fine.” He could hear an amused sort of confusion enter May’s voice.

“And what does that mean? Did something happen?”

Tony could feel his stomach drop a little; he couldn’t put into words just how perfect it seemed that Peter was his, but declaring that to his aunt (really his mother, the ‘aunt’ title was essentially a formal technicality) made it so much more real, and the elated jitters were sobered and the responsibility facing him took hold. “May, before you call me crazy I can have F.R.I.D.A.Y. send you everything.”

“Um…alright? Why do you say that?”

Thinking it better to just be frank and rip off the proverbial Band-aid, Tony took a breath. “That electrophoresis demo that Pete came over for, uh, well we did a sort of DNA matching paternity test so I could show him how to tell it was negative and explain what a positive would look like. Problem—wait, no, it’s not a problem because it’s great, at least for me but anyway it wasn’t negative.” Tony waited with baited breath as May’s end of the line stayed silent. He quickly thought to add on, “F.R.I.D.A.Y. cross referenced my whereabouts in reference to Peter’s mother and Richard about when Peter should’ve been conceived and our times and places matched.”

Tony knew with his advanced senses Peter could hear May’s end of the line, or rather the lack of sound on it. After what seemed to be at least a few minutes, May spoke up.

“Not that I don’t believe you, because this doesn’t seem like something you would make up, but I would like F.R.I.D.A.Y. to send me what you’ve got in way of evidence.”

“Of course! F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“On it, Boss.”

Tony looked over to where Peter was sitting on one of the workbench’s stools, dangling his feet with a somewhat content look on his face. Tony’s eyes drifted to the holograms when May piped up.

“So…what?” She sounded a bit upset; Tony supposed she had every right to be, with her nephew not being the child of her late brother-in-law but of the man that until recently she’d not been at all fond of. “Are you going to take him?” Although he’d already answered that question, Peter still perked up on his stool.

Tony shook his head, knowing full well May couldn’t see it through the phone. “I’m not gonna take Peter out of the only constant home life he’s had for the last decade, May, and I’m not about to take him from a parent that knows what they’re doing. But I’m going to make up for lost time if you’re alright with that.” He heard May make a sound of affirmation on her end of the line before continuing. “Not that I wasn’t planning on it anyway, but leave paying for college to me. I don’t wanna cause court drama over this but I’d like a guaranteed weekend a month with Pete, in addition to every other week during the summer and every other holiday, but only ones Peter doesn’t mind spending with me. Oh, and you can expect quite the hefty child support check; if you want to stay completely out of court on this just give me a number and it’s done. Food, rent, school fees, whatever, I’ve got it. Nights you have to work, he can stay with me and Pep, not that we wouldn’t be happy to have him anyway.” Finishing off, he sent a wink Peter’s way, and the boy flashed a grin.

He heard May let out a laugh thinly laced with disbelief, “You’re serious about all this?”

“May, I have been so serious about very few things in my life. Peter was already filling this role before tonight, now I just have evidence to get my name on his birth certificate and schedule his doctor’s appointments.” He heard Peter snort on the other side of the room. “Actually we might just call Bruce so our darling baby boy doesn’t get taken away for being a spider mutant. Yeah, Bruce is a good bet…”

“Are you planning on claiming him publicly?”

Tony paused, that question wasn’t one that had gone through his mind yet. “I don’t want you guys to have to deal with paparazzi all the time, or God forbid someone tries to get Peter to get to me, and not to mention either scenario could out him as Spider-man. But, I would still claim him and let the world know he’s mine. Let’s let this one simmer.”

After May agreed and they each promised to discuss this in person the next time they met to exchange Peter, she and Tony hung up. The billionaire looked over at Peter, who was doodling on a notepad corner, and a fond smile etched itself across his face. Strolling over, Tony lifted a hand and ruffled Peter’s hair.

“I’m sure I can fight off whatever bad guys try to take me if you want to claim me publicly.” He could see Peter was filled with that same fuzzy warmth that his own body was flooded with.

“No doubt, but the point is you shouldn’t have to.” Tony watched as Peter flipped the pen between his fingers, contemplating something.

“You know, I’m still not used to calling you ‘Tony’. ‘Dad’ is a whole other can of worms to open.” Peter didn’t look uncomfortable, not really. More like he was just trying to solidify that this new reality wasn’t a dream. A smirk replaced the fond grin on Tony’s face.

“Oh, I am so taking advantage of this newfound fatherly power to give you pet names.” Peter made a face of feigned disgust, and that was all the prompt Tony needed. “Peter.”

“Yes?”

The billionaire lowered his voice an octave, “I AM YOUR FATHER!”

“NOOOOOOO!”

The night wore on with comfortable silence, just two people trying to accept a shifted reality and being content with the outcome. Eventually, Peter had started to nod off and with more warmth than amusement in his voice Tony said it was past the spiderling’s bedtime.

Peter had taken up residence in the bedroom he’d once refused along with Tony’s offer to become an avenger. After he’d changed and flopped on his bed, Tony came in with a glass of water and set it on the bedside table.

“In case you get thirsty in the middle of the night.”

Peter had thanked him groggily, and said he was looking forward to their weekend they’d decided to take together in a few weeks before snuggling into his pillow. Tony felt a small sigh leave his chest, and before he could think to stop himself he drew the teen’s Star Wars printed blankets up to his chin and ruffled his hair. “Night, son.” It was spoken with a tenderness he didn’t care to hide; it felt natural to address Peter such a way. They weren’t quite at the ‘goodnight-forehead-kisses’ stage, not for a while, Tony thought, so he straightened to leave for his own room. Just as his hand reached the doorknob, he heard, “Goodnight, dad” and that warm fuzzy feeling bloomed in his chest once again. He looked forward to being a father.

(There will be a chapter two coming...)

#iron dad #spider son #tony stark #peter parker #iron man #spider-man #brief pepper potts #brief may parker #fluff #implied cheating from Mary Parker #dad!tony #son!peter #stark!peter #marvel

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maevefiction · 6 years

Text

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 34

We spent the remainder of our summer and early fall in London living like normal people and doing normal things. I’d get up and head into work each morning, my main focus having shifted to overseeing Trudy’s progress on the app and delving into creating pages on the Prosper site for all our clients, while Tom kept his social media activity at the level we’d agreed upon, in conjunction with working out, running lines for Skull Island, meeting with BFI and UNICEF, as well as reading the rest of the Vampire Chronicles.

Each night, we’d either eat in or go out to one of Tom’s favorite spots for dinner, and each weekend he’d take me to what he considered a ‘cannot be missed’ landmark or locale. Sundays were usually cinema day, my personal favorites we viewed being The Man From U. N. C. L. E. and American Ultra. Tom was fond of Before We Go, but I pointed out that he had to like it otherwise Captain America would kick his sorry ass, because he already had it out for him over the whole Loki wearing his suit thing. Interestingly, other than a random pap here and there in the heart of the city, we were essentially left to our own devices. No one seemed to care that we were walking around Regent’s Park drinking tea and coffee, having pizza, or grocery shopping. There were fans on occasion, and Tom was always gracious, stopping for a selfie and/or a chat, with me waiting in the wings or taking pictures. I had known it was possible to maintain some degree of anonymity no matter the level of fame involved, and now I’d come to the conclusion that it had a lot to do with the behavior of the celebrity themselves and directly proportional to the size of their entourage. Which we didn’t have, nor wished to have. Granted, Tom had yet to achieve rock god status, but still…if we smiled, waved, and moved on, so did everyone else. People being people.

Two weeks after his sisters had been informed of their father’s infidelity and misdirected their anger at Tom, Emma came over to our flat and they Skyped Sarah, talking through tears and shouts for two hours before apologizing to each other and realizing that the blame lay with no one other than Diana and James themselves. It was a huge weight off his shoulders, and it allowed us to move forward, both of us having dealt with our pasts as well as we could for the time being. Healing, learning, and discovering more and more of each other with every day that passed. Mundane things, like what kind of toothpaste either of us preferred, when we’d learned out times tables…the feeling that I’d always known him becoming increasingly prevalent and so very welcome. While I’d recognized that we were not only lovers but friends as well that night when I willingly shared my Ben and Jerry’s with him at the beach house in Hawaii, I couldn’t have imagined how deep that friendship would become. We lived, we loved, we laughed, and it was astounding to me that I could feel such…peace.

In mid-September the insanity began, both of us going on the road for the promotion of not one, not two, but THREE projects, High-Rise, I Saw the Light and Crimson Peak. The San Sebastian Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival (where we ran into Norman, there promoting Sky, whose premier he invited us to and we attended), the BFI London Film Festival…it seemed endless, the screenings, Tom doing interview after interview, photoshoots and photo calls, Q & A sessions. How he managed to keep which project he was promoting at which event was a mystery to me, and I found myself asking him ‘dude, what’s this one for again’ more than once, and I spent nearly every moment behind the lens of a camera.

Nights were when I edited what I’d gathered and emailed it to Tom, who’d then post it all across his social media accounts. Then came updating the website, followed by fast and furious fucking, then sleep. At some point in all the chaos he‘d dragged me into a coatroom and fucked me from behind, but the when and where wasn’t the slightest bit important at the time so determining its actual geographical occurrence is now impossible…but other than that, we behaved ourselves, acting like grown-up professionals with jobs. I enjoyed just fading into the background and watching him shine. His performance in all three films blew me away, but High Rise was my favorite story. The abortion scene in I Saw the Light made me cringe, especially when I considered how he must have felt filming it, so soon after what he’d been through in his personal life. As soon as it was over, he’d leaned over and kissed my cheek, his hand in mine, both of us squeezing gently.

October twelfth found us in New York City, staying at my apartment, me packing up boxes to be shipped to London that week. My books, the rest of my clothes, and my computer. The rest would remain for when we visited, and while I knew I’d never sell the place, I also knew London had, in an obscenely short period of time, become home. The New Orleans house had been completely cleaned out, the August estate sale netting upwards of one hundred thousand dollars, and Tom made good on his promise to donate a matching amount to the women’s shelter while the actual proceeds were delivered to Will’s wife anonymously. I wasn’t sure what to do about renovations, but was hoping to stop in at some point during the holiday season and think it through.

The fourteenth was the NYC premiere of Crimson Peak, and we’d agreed that while I’d attend, I wouldn’t walk the carpet. He’d balked, at first, but I’d convinced him that doing so would allow everyone to focus on him and his co-stars, which was exactly where the focus BELONGED. I wore the black version of the red dress I’d worn to Daniel, and spent the entire limo ride back to the apartment following the after-party with his face buried in my breasts.

We flew to Nashville on the seventeenth to prepare for the premiere of I Saw the Light…Tom’s anxiety level ratcheted up to a nine, dreading the possibility of an appearance by Claudia. I steeled myself as best as I could, but, thankfully, it was completely unnecessary. The director wanted the venue to be small and down-home, so only bare-bones cast invites had been extended. Meeting his co-star Lizzie was a blast…she was friendly, funny, dorky and gorgeous. The two of us hung out in front of the stage as Tom performed for the crowd, dancing like a couple of idiots and singing along. He was incredible, those damn hips distracting me to no end, and his SMILE, my lord. He’d tried to teach me some guitar chords while we were on the road, but, as expected, I sucked in a way that no one had probably ever sucked before and decided once and for all that being able to sing was enough musical talent for one human being.

Principal photography for Skull Island was slated to start on the nineteenth on Oahu, but Tom wasn’t needed on set until November second so we decided to take a holiday the two weeks prior on Kauai. He’d even managed to sweet talk the reservations gal into giving us the same room…the one I’d been staying in when we met, number 203. As soon as we arrived, we both changed and headed out to put our toes in the sand, which is how we spent most of our time for the next ten days. At long last, my ass was on the fucking beach and it was pure, unadulterated bliss. The nights…that’s when we made up for lost time, screwing each other senseless until we passed out from exhaustion.

Luke and Simon joined us on the twenty-ninth, a short birthday celebration jaunt for the latter. On the thirtieth we all went out to Nawiliwili Tavern to celebrate him turning thirty-eight, and I karaoked so much my throat hurt the next day. And really, it was just from singing. Really.

On the morning of my birthday, I left Tom snoring in our bed to watch the Halloween sunrise from the balcony, a knee-length tropical print satin robe wrapped around me. I’d become a fan of robes…easy to slip on, even easier to rip off. Both of us slept naked, and with all the hotels, room service and sex whenever we could squeeze it in while traveling, it was an excellent way to prevent me from answering the door in the buff. I leaned on the railing, listening to the waves crashing, watching the three joggers heading down the beach leaving sand flying in their wake. Thirty-eight. I wasn’t sure how the fuck this had happened, yet here I was, two years away from forty, the biological clock that had been silent before meeting Tom now ticking away loudly. We both baby goggled, and while we were still back in London we’d had lunch with Ben and his wife, each taking turns holding their baby. I’d caught Tom staring at me, his expression making me want toss my birth control pills in the garbage…full of adoration, love, want and so much more. And him holding such a tiny being in his huge hands…too precious for words.

Last year on this day I’d been working, giving a seminar in Chicago, and my celebration had consisted of six donuts at eleven-thirty PM in my hotel room while I watched the Matrix. This year…other than a costume party at Rob’s Good Times Grill in the evening, I had no clue what was in store for me. I reflected on how much my life had changed, and how I was so incredibly blessed, realizing that I’d be perfectly content to spend the entire day in our room, talking, laughing, dancing…all those simple things that made me genuinely happy. Me. Happy. Something I never thought I’d be, yet here I was. Standing on the balcony of the room where we’d first been intimate, on the island where we’d fallen in love. Grateful tears welled up, spilling over and running down my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I felt hands on my shoulders, followed by a kiss on my neck.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” I turned to face him, and he immediately noticed that I’d been crying. “You okay, love?”

“I’m amazing. Happy tears. Actually, grateful tears. Just thinking about how different things are from last year, and…”

He pulled me to his chest, smoothing my hair as he placed a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, my Maude.” He let me go, hands sliding around and down to grasp my forearms, grinning. “So, ready for your present?”

I poked his chest with my index finger. “Dude, you PROMISED me, NO PRESENTS. The time we’re getting to spend together here before you start filming is my present, and every day with you is a gift ANYWAY so…”

Several beats of uncharacteristic silence followed. “Well look at you, leaving me at a loss for words.”

Wrangling free of his grip, I clapped excitedly. “That’s like a whole ‘NOTHER present, man. WOO HOO!”

He laughed, a drawn out ‘ehehehehehe’, ceasing only when we thought we heard someone yell for us to shut up. We ran back inside and closed the balcony doors behind us, sat on the bed and perused the breakfast menu. I opted for scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon, and Tom decided upon an egg and cheese omelet. After eating quickly, we showered together, and as we dried off in the main area of the room he cleared his throat nervously.

“So, um…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to take a ride out to Talk Story today? I thought perhaps you’d want to pick up some new reading material for while I’m shooting?”

The man knew the only time I had to read these days was when I was on the toilet, but I went with it because, BOOKS. And I’d wanted to go there before we moved on to Oahu anyway, even if it was just to look around. The origin of us. A huge grin spread across my face.

“That sounds fucking epic, babe. What time is it now, like eight-thirty? They open at ten, and the trip there is an hour…”

“Shall we see if Luke and Simon want to join us?”

I snorted. “Ha, if Simon’s even awake yet it would be a bona-fide fucking miracle…but sure, why not? It’d be cool for them to see where we met. God, I’m such a romantic saphead asshat. Gross.”

He laughed, wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed his phone off the desk. I returned to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. After hanging up, he joined me, eyes on my reflection, and the memory of him fucking me right there four months ago made me shiver, goosebumps pebbling my flesh.

“Believe it or not, they’re not only awake, they’ve had breakfast. Or at least Luke has. Simon appears to be on a liquid diet so far today.”

I spit a final time then spun around, brows raised, and he chuckled.

“What I MEANT was he’s too hung over for food, little miss filthy dirty mind.”

I slapped his ass as I walked out of the bathroom to get dressed. “You fucking love it.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Black bra and panties, grey hiking shorts…but I figured I should ask what he was wearing before I picked out a shirt.

“Babe, what are you....” I’d turned around so my voice would carry better to the bathroom only to find him right THERE, his cock at half-mast. I coughed, then continued. “Wearing. What are you wearing? Fuck, the naked sneak up is NOT COOL, Hiddleston.”

He smirked. “My khaki shorts and a white V-neck, I think.”

“Good. Then I can wear a black one.” I finished dressing while he began, then went to stand before the mirror so I could put my hair back in a ponytail. I’d had it cut and styled before we left London, the ends brushing just below my collar bones. For some reason, even just a few inches and a tiny bit of layering made it much easier to manage. As I was strapping on my Birkenstocks, a quiet rapping on the door began. Tom opened it, and when I saw Simon was wearing giant Kardashian-style mirrored aviator sunglasses indoors, I shouted. Loudly. Even though it hurt my throat to do so.

“Good morning, Mr. Ahlberg. How are we feeling today? Looks like you may have had too much birthday, am I right?”

His voice was raspy as he pulled the Panama hat he was sporting further down his forehead. “Fuck off, bitch.” He was wearing a dark green Polo shirt, white shorts and white loafers.

I rose as he and Luke entered the room, and Luke grinned as he embraced me briefly.

“Happy Birthday, Maude.”

“Thank you, Luke. You look none the worse for wear.” He’d paired khaki shorts with a medium-blue faded T-shirt and Teva sandals, also khaki with blue stripes.

He snorted. “One of us had to behave responsibly. He was up half the night with his head in the bowl…”

Simon shoved him out of the way, wrapping his arms around me to support himself after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear. “Please kill me. I know it’s your birthday, but it IS Halloween so it’s sort of apropos and I really need to die. I beg you. Put me out of my misery.”

I squeezed him tightly and whispered back. “Not a chance, asshole. I enjoy your snark entirely too much to let it slip from my grasp so easily.”

He sighed, releasing me. “Fine, fine. On with the hour long car ride then. Followed by staring at some books. Then an hour long car ride back. All during which I could have been resting up for tonight.”

We used their rental car, as I’d demanded to have a Jeep Wrangler again and thought Simon might puke if we took that instead. Much like Luke had thought he’d do when we’d gone to our Hula class. Ah, life’s fun parallels that arise from excessive alcohol consumption. Tom had gone back up to the room to retrieve his forgotten phone, and when he came back we were off. Luke and Simon sat in the back, Simon resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, moaning from time to time when Tom took a turn too fast.

He parked us a block down, and we jumped out of the vehicle, excited to be back, and he picked me up and spun me around as we waited for Simon’s slow-ass self.

I rolled my eyes as Tom set me down. “Christ, Simon…you’re like a little old man. Fucking move it along, won’t you?”

I got the bird in return, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. The ibuprofen I’d given him in the car must have started to kick in. Why he hadn’t thought of it on his own…no clue. As we reached the red doors, Tom took my hand, smiling as he opened the door for me. It was exactly the same, which wasn’t really a surprise as only four months had passed, but a feeling washed over me at the sight of it anyway, one of pure joy. His hand squeezed mine as we walked inside, and behind the counter was Roger Marshal, still bearded, same glasses, different Hawaiian shirt, this time red with green leaves. He grinned widely and came around to shake our hands.

“Aloha, Mr. Hiddleston, Ms. Gallagher. Welcome back. I see you brought friends with you on this glorious Halloween day in paradise.”

Tom introduced him to Simon and Luke while I wandered down to the stacks where we’d met. The place was relatively empty…I didn’t see anyone, but assumed customers were just quietly browsing elsewhere. Music was playing, something by 10,000 Maniacs, the name of which always escaped me. Almost instinctually, I went right for the ‘K’s, looking for my white whale…and…THERE IT FUCKING WAS. Not three feet away from me, the spine of the dust jacket unmistakable, silver-grey with a long black tower and yellow text. I stood, frozen in place, listening to footsteps approaching just as I had on that day back in June. Tom’s hand touched my shoulder gently.

“You okay? You didn’t move a muscle while we walked down here.”

I pointed. “It’s there. Do you see it? Tell me you see it.”

He looked. “See what?”

“THE BOOK. THE GUNSLINGER. Yellow text. Black tower. TELL ME YOU SEE IT.”

“Oh, okay…yes…I see it. Wait, isn’t that…”

I nodded, still using my indoor voice but enunciating so strongly they sounded out in all caps. “YES. MY WHITE WHALE. THAT IS A FIRST EDITION COPY OF THE GUNSLINGER.”

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. “And you’re not over there pulling it off the shelf and holding on to it for dear life, why, exactly?”

Reaching up, I patted his hand gently as I whispered. “Because I’m afraid that if I move or even if I blink it will disappear, having only been the cruelest of mirages.”

“If I can see, it, it MUST be real, yes?” His other hand patted my ass. “Best grab it before someone else does, don’t you think?”

I turned to him briefly, eyes wide. “YES. Excellent idea.”

One step, two steps, both very slow, and I noticed that the song had changed. Tilting my head to make sure I wasn’t hearing things in addition to possibly seeing things, I listened closely, turning back around to face Tom.

“Is it me or…is that Tigerlily by La Roux?”

His own head tilted, and he nodded, smiling. “You’re right, it is. What a fantastic coincidence!”

I nodded again, then turned back to my prey. Another two steps and I was there, reaching out my hand to touch the spine gingerly, then quickly pulling back as if I’d been burned.

“Oh my god it’s REAL. And not only is it REAL I think it’s in, like, MINT FUCKING CONDITION this is…I just…” I carefully slid it off the shelf, turning it over in my hands, then back again, opening the cover ever so gently. Much to my horror, there was something written on the flyleaf. I was about to stomp my foot when I noticed my name.

Happy Birthday, Maude.

You hold in your hands not only a first edition, but one from my personal collection…and out of the first box the publisher sent to me. The God of Mischief asked me to do him a solid, and I figured it might be a good idea to go the extra mile. Thanks for being a Constant Reader all these years, and may the wheel of Ka always move forward for you.

With love,

Steve

PS - CONGRATULATIONS!

Tigerlily was still playing, and I re-read the text again, realizing that Tom had planned all of this, for ME, for MY birthday, and I nearly burst into tears but the last bit of what Steve…STEPHEN FUCKING KING… had written confused me and I focused on that in an attempt to keep my shit together. I began speaking, still staring at the word as I turned around.

“Tom, why did he write congra…” I looked up from my precious treasure but didn’t see him, just Luke and Simon, their phones held up and pointing at me. “…ulations?” My gaze moved lower, and there he was. Tom. Down on one knee. Right arm extended. And in his hand was a small black box.

I’d like to say the world around me grew silent and time stopped and the angels began to sing, but that would be lying and, if nothing else, I’m an honest woman.

What really happened is that I blurted out “Ohmygodthefuckareyoudoing?” followed by my right hand flying up to cover my mouth, trying to shove what had just come out back in.

His eyes met mine, peering up from under his brows, lashes so long and soft and glistening with tears, his smile shy and kind and beautiful and I could see his hand shaking just the tiniest bit and my knees got weak and I had to uncover my mouth so I could breathe otherwise my big ass was going to hit the fucking floor.

He cleared his throat, then began to speak. “One hundred and twenty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since I walked through those red doors, down these stacks and saw you, my light in the mist. All of those days that came and went before…they all appear in shades of grey in my mind now, as if I never truly saw the world around me in color until the moment my eyes met yours for the first time. And however many more days we’re blessed with on this earth, I want to spend each and every one of them with you. I know I’ve said this bit already, when we first arrived in New York, but…I’m going to say it again, because it’s the truth, the only truth I know, the only truth that matters. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. Maude Gallagher, will you do me the honor…the most extraordinary honor that could ever be bestowed upon me…of becoming my wife?”

I’d stopped breathing at some point, inhaling with an audible gasp at his conclusion, then answering.

“Absofuckingloutely. Yes. Yes yes yes yes YES!”

I threw myself at him, and he rose to catch me just in time, both of us laughing and crying, his forehead resting against mine, Simon and Luke whistling and shouting as we kissed, murmuring ‘I love you’ over and over when we came up for air. Tom pulled back, grinning holding up the black box and shaking it back and forth.

“Aren’t you curious to see your ring?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “I guess so. Whip it out.”

He opened the lid, and what I saw nested inside the black velvet made me feel faint for the second time in mere minutes. The ring was sterling silver, with an oval cut and polished black stone set in raised parenthesis shaped sterling silver bars, one to each side, perfectly mimicking of the style of the necklace given to me by my father. My voice eluded me, and he mistook my silence for displeasure.

“It’s not traditional, I know, and if you’d rather have a diamond we can…”

My head shook back and forth as I reached out and touched it with my right index finger in disbelief, then met his gaze.

“That’s black tourmaline.” He nodded, and I recalled the conspiratorial glance Luke’s mother and Tom’s sister had shared after I’d tried on a ring back at the Cube gallery. “Phaedra made this.”

He nodded again, eyes questioning. I bit my lip, then inhaled sharply before speaking again. “Will you put it on me please?”

His voice was timid, soft. “You like it, then?”

“No, Tom. I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. Put. It. On. Me.” I grinned. “Please.”

As Simon sidled over and took the Gunslinger away from me, Tom slipped the ring out of its slot, put the box in his pocket, then took my left hand in his right and slid the first tangible symbol of our commitment to one another home with the other, a huge, beautiful smile spreading across his face as I brought both our hands up to stare at my latest jewelry acquisition. He watched me, silently, and all the other moments that I’d pushed aside over the past four months formed a slideshow in my mind’s eye. Ben smirking at us as we looked through his wedding album, nudging his wife in the ribs as she giggled…what I’d overheard at Diana’s house, that he wanted something to be ‘perfect’…and, finally, the afternoon at Greenwood Cemetery back in New Orleans when I’d said goodbye to my father. Tom had gone to the crypt, introduced himself and told my father how much he loved me, then asked him a question, cupping his hand to his mouth and whispering against the stone, waiting for an answer, then nodding as he said ‘thank you, sir’. When I’d asked what his question had been he’d refused to tell me, though when I inquired as to whether my father had answered, he’d replied ‘I’d like to think he did.’

Gasping, my hand again flew to my mouth as my breath hitched and the tears flowed. “Tom…my god…how long…when did you decide…was it back in…Tom, that day in the cemetery…my dad…is that what you…”

He nodded, weeping as well. “Yes. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”

Choking back sobs, I reached out and placed my right hand on his shoulder. “But…when did you…when…”

His fingers grazed my temple, then my cheek, coming to rest on my jaw. “When did I know that I wanted to marry you?” I nodded. “That moment in the hotel in New Orleans when you said that if you really, truly love someone you accept them just as they are…and that you accepted me, all of me, every bit. As I took you in my arms, it hit me…I wasn’t just holding the woman I’d fallen in love with any longer. I was holding my wife.”

My sobs broke free, and I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his chest. He rocked me, smoothing my hair, his chin on the top of my head. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask. I just…I wanted it to be…perfect.”

Pulling away, I snorted. “Mission accomplished, you glorious bastard. This was over the top, ridiculously romantic, Clint Eastwood and Rob Reiner co-directing a love story PERFECT.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. The ring…there’s an inscription…”

I yanked it off and held it up to my face. Around the solid portion of the band, flanked on either side by two tiny books was written in a teeny, tiny font, two lines, one on top of the other:

Talk Story - 6/29/15 - Our Story

My Light in the Mist

“Thomas William Hiddleston, I hope you realize that now we have to get MARRIED here. Like, right here. In this very spot. Bridezilla has come ashore and she won’t have it any other way.” I turned my attention from the ring to his face. “I’m serious. Can we? Is that cool with you? Getting married here? I mean, I guess we need to ask…” His smirk resulted in an epic eye roll and heavy sigh from me as I slipped the ring back on my finger. “Aaaaand…you already asked, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Roger’s fine with it. We just need to let him know a few weeks in advance so he can arrange to close the shop.”

For some reason, that solidified what had just occurred. Tom had asked me to marry him. I’d said yes. I was now his fiancé, the future Mrs. Thomas Hiddleston. And there was now a wedding to plan. Which was exciting and amazing but I had no idea what to do next so I just stood, like a deer caught in headlights. He leaned in, nose touching mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded hard, attempting to clear my head, letting the euphoria take over. “My god, we’re getting MARRIED. Maude Hiddleston. I’m going to need to start practicing that. Gotta say, it sounds pretty fucking great. Nice ring to it. Maude Hiddleston. Yep. Sold.”

His jaw had dropped open, then closed again, eyes full of surprise. “I…you…you want to change your name?”

“Uhhh…yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, if you don’t want…”

He took my hands in his. “Oh, no, no…I…I’d love for you to take my name. See, that sounds awful. Archaic. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to or that I expected you to because, I mean, you’re known a certain way professionally and…”

My lips found his, tongue pushing into his mouth, silencing him the best way I knew how. And, other than pushing his head down between my thighs, my favorite way. As we broke the kiss, he grinned, and so did I.

“Tom. I know some women are very much against changing their names or like to hyphenate, and that’s totally cool, but I’m not one of them. To me, it’s part of joining with someone. Being a family. If that makes me old-fashioned, too fucking bad. Plus, what happens when your kid with the hyphenated name marries another kid with a hyphenated name? Chaos, I say. Chaos.”

His expression was so earnest, so thankful that it caused me to take pause, during which I become cognizant of all I had to be thankful for as well. And that I hadn’t even said thank you, for anything he’d done, which resulted in waterworks yet again as I let go of his hands to place mine on the sides of his beautifully chiseled countenance.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t say thank you, for any of this…but I’m telling you now. Thank you, Tom. Thank you. I’m going to remember this forever and tell it over and over and our kids and grandkids will be like SHUT UP WE HEARD THAT STORY A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY and it’s just…I love you, so much, and I’m so blessed to have you in my life and my god, I can’t believe you want to MARRY me because I mean I’m ME and…”

It was his turn to cut things off with a kiss, and as he pulled back I heard Simon’s voice, realizing I had completely forgotten that we weren’t alone and wondering exactly how much they’d filmed.

“Yay, yay, you’re engaged, that’s super, who isn’t though, you know? Anyway. I’m going to create a diversion because if Maude cries again I’m going to lose all respect for her and, frankly, I don’t have that much left TO lose so…” He wrenched me from Tom’s grasp and turned me to face him. “SO, I assume that I’ll be your maid of honor? Because honey, you are REALLY going to need my help…”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, you’ll wind up being my MATRON of honor because you’ll probably be MARRIED by then, you big fucking dumbass. And…and…” I started to sniffle, tears welling up again.

He covered his eyes with his right hand, having taken the shades off to film, and groaned. “Oh. My. God. Are you going to cry from now until whenever it is you get hitched? Because if that’s the case feel free to go before Luke and I do.”

When I didn’t reply, he uncovered his eyes, saw the look on my face and placed both hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of one hand, then attempted to speak. “Will you…I…my…I don’t have a…my dad…isn’t…will…will you walk me down the aisle?”

He, Tom and Luke burst into tears at that, Simon’s hand over his mouth as he nodded repeatedly and pulled me to his chest. His voice was deep but soft in my ear when he was able to talk again. “Of course I will, honey. Of course I will. I’m so sorry your father won’t be there. And you know I’m, like, SO not religious so I’m not going to give you the watching over you nonsense, though I guess who the fuck really knows, but in a way he WILL be there, because he’s part of you. And we need to talk about something else now because crying is making my headache IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE…”

He released me and Luke took his place immediately, warmly embracing me for the second time that day. His quiet authority was what I saw most of…it wasn’t until we were off the clock that he became himself, and even at that we were only moderately affectionate. Drunk Luke, though…that was an entirely different story. After a few pats to the back, we let each other go, and I pointed at Tom.

“This is some stunt you pulled here, young man. I hope you realize that.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. “Oh, I do.” His brows rose. “Were you truly surprised?”

“Um, YEAH. No clue. Well, not exactly NO clue. I mean, I picked up on a few things along the way that I seemed odd but I just pushed them aside because…” My eyes turned skyward as I thought of the best way to phrase what came next. “Because as much as I wanted it to be what I thought it was, I couldn’t be sure and I didn’t want to be disappointed if it never happened, I guess. But. Yeah. So, do we need to fill anyone in on the news or am I totally the last one to know?”

“If it never happened. You’re a silly, silly girl.” His lips grazed my cheek. “And yes, there are still plenty of people to tell. Anyone who was privy to my plan was purely essential.”

My left eyebrow shot up. “Oh, how did Ben and Sophie factor in? Do tell.”

He blushed adorably. “I may have tattled to Chris and Elsa too. But…Anne’s still in the dark, so maybe start there?”

Simon had set the Gunslinger on the nearest table, and I started at it and sighed happily. “I cannot BELIEVE you not only managed to find me a first edition copy of the Gunslinger, but you got Stephen King to sign it, and it’s ONE FROM HIS PERSONAL COLLECTION. You are such a complete dork, and I am the luckiest woman alive, Thomas William Hiddleston.”

He walked to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “So, should we take a photo to post online? Or would you rather do something more formal?”

I snorted. “Fuck formal. Picture, please.”

I held up my left hand at face level between us, the back of it towards Tom’s phone, which Luke was holding, then pointed at the ring with my right and posed with my mouth stretched wide open in a gleeful grin. Tom pointed at it as well, and three clicks later we were good to go.

Taking the phone back from Luke, he typed, then stopped. “Do you want to call Anne before I post this?”

“Nah. I’ll wait for her to call. It’s more fun this way…and honestly, I have no idea how to tell people without sounding like an asshole, so…yeah. Post it.”

He clicked, then turned the screen so I could see it. There we were, his expression mimicking mine, his Twitter message short and sweet.

She said YES!!!!!!!!!! #thefuturemrshiddleston, #iamsoveryblessed, #luckiestmanintheuniverse

Chuckling, I passed the phone back to him. “Um, actually what I said was ‘absofuckingloutely’. Shit. That’s like, filmed and recorded as my official reaction to being proposed to in the most beautiful and perfect way possible. Nice one, me.”

Luke cleared his throat. “So, not to be a killjoy…” Simon snorted. “Do we have a date in mind for the blessed event? Tom’s schedule is…”

I raised my hand. “Oh, oh…I know what Tom’s schedule is…it’s an insane MESS. Gee, wish there was an app for that or something. HA! Anyhow, you’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that there is zero room for it to happen until late April or early May.”

Scrolling through his phone, Luke nodded. “You’re right. After the I Saw the Light press tour and premiere he’s got Night Manager promo until it airs in the states on April nineteenth. Really, the best month seems to be June.”

Tom spread his hands wide. “Well, that makes it simple. Let’s do it on the first anniversary of the day we met. June twenty-ninth. I think I can even squeeze in time for a honeymoon before heading to Australia to start in on Ragnarock.” He turned to me, brows raised, questioning. “Okay with you?”

My eyes met his, then roamed up and down over his form. This breathtakingly beautiful, kind, compassionate, intelligent, gifted, hilarious being…he was going to be my husband. I felt the tears creeping up on me again, but shook them off, breaking myself of the habit lest I, as Simon feared, kept crying every time I thought about marrying the man for the next eight months.

“Oh yeah. Totally okay with me. And shall I assume you had that planned all along as well?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, one hand on his abdomen, smirking adorably when he’d managed to compose himself. “No, actually…that one was totally off the cuff.”

“Sure it was.”

Laughing again, he grabbed my shoulders. “It was. I swear it.”

I sighed. “Well, if you swear it, I guess I should believe you. So…I know this will come as a shock, but …I’m STARVING. Birthday girl needs lunch. Feed birthday girl NOW.”

Tom pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “How’s Kauai Pasta sound?”

“It sounds like you made reservations for four is how it sounds.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Which is awesome, because I am such a slut for Alfredo…”

Simon’s face appeared over Tom’s shoulder. “Oh, oh…can we please go over the list of things you’re a slut for? THERE ARE SO MANY…”

I flipped him off. “Please. Your list is so long it wouldn’t fit on my 32 gig USB drive.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “My, my. She becomes some hot guy’s fiancé and her rudeness trebles. Unacceptable.”

Grinning, I turned my gaze back to Tom. “So, are we, like, done with surprises for the day? Because I’m not sure my heart can take another one. Though I do have a surprise of my own for YOU…”

“You do, do you? And what would that be?”

I patted his chest. “That would be my Halloween costume, babe. I fear you may not survive.”

He placed his hand over mine, leaning in so his face was inches from mine. “You do realize that you have not the slightest inkling as to what I’m wearing, don’t you?”

I didn’t. I’d been so focused on keeping mine under wraps I hadn’t considered HIS. And I was afraid to imagine, because the party now seemed an eternity away and if I let my mind wander…my mouth dropped open, then closed, opened, then closed again. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I am so, so fucked.”

A whisper in my ear. “Oh, you are indeed, my darling. You are indeed.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 34

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years

Text

Arranged Chapter Five

Description: Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 6,392

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently. Mentions of alcohol in this chapter.

A/N: Wow hey so here’s chapter five! I’m really glad you guys are still into this story, because I’m definitely into writing it! I’m actually posting this just before I go in to work, so I may not be back on here until later (about 5PM PST). But please send me things if you’d like! I’ll respond to them all. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story, and for the response you guys have had to it. It really means so much to me. As usual, please feel free to message me with feedback, critique, questions, or anything you’d like! I’d really love to talk to you guys. I hope you like the chapter!

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END)

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“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” screamed Hana into my ear, her voice tinny as it came through my cell phone.

“I’m sorry.”

“And am I even invited to the wedding? What the hell?”

“You’re invited.”

“Are you even awake right now?”

“I didn’t sleep much…”

“Y/N…,” she said gently. She’d calmed down considerably as the conversation went on.

It was Wednesday, and the articles about me and Yoongi were floating around cyberspace at a speed I couldn’t keep up with. Between dodging calls from old classmates from high school and avoiding all of my social media, I hadn’t been very in touch since the articles came out. But Hana had been relentless, calling and texting and even showing up at my apartment while I was out buying groceries, leaving a sticky note on my door promising to come back later and demanding a full explanation.

So when she’d called for the thirty-first time in twenty-four hours I answered. But my mind was so far elsewhere.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you right away. I’ve been…busy,” I said, but even I could hear how flat my voice was.

She sighed. “You didn’t have to go this far, Y/N. You know I would have helped you if you would have asked,” she said softly.

“I know. But I didn’t ask.”

“You could have.”

“I made the right choice,” I said, mostly to myself. If nothing else, I wasn’t burdening my loved ones. The only one who was burdened was…

“Y/N,” said Hana again, gentler this time.

“Forget it. It’s fine.”

“Well…do you get along with him? Is he nice to you?” she asked.

I felt my face flush as I laid on my couch, staring at the ceiling as the TV droned quietly in the background. “Nice…,” I repeated, mulling it over. “Yes.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” she asked.

After Yoongi had proclaimed his love for me, my heart had done more flips than an Olympic gymnast, and I couldn’t settle it down for the life of me. His dark eyes were focused solely on my mother as she sat across from him, shocked with her lips parted as if to speak but unable to produce the words. I could relate.

I gazed at Yoongi, my face red and hot and my vision going hazy. I tried to find any trace of insincerity in his face, in his voice, in the set of his strong jaw. But either he was a very good actor or I was a very bad judge of expressions because I saw nothing but determination. For the briefest moment, I felt a strange warmness in my stomach, and the urge to take his hand. But I pushed both feelings down as my mother began to blush and sputter a response that I couldn’t really hear.

The rest of the meeting had gone well and after Yoongi’s announcement, my mother seemed to warm up to him. She was of course not thrilled about the date of the wedding, but after speaking with Yoongi for a while, me still too shocked to contribute much, she at least seemed to trust his intentions a little more. Once we’d finished speaking, exchanging hugs on the sidewalk, my mother had hailed herself a taxi to get back to Sillim, and Yoongi had insisted upon walking me to the bus stop even though he could have easily called us both a car. He had taken my instructions of ‘acting normal and approachable’ to heart.

It was at the bus station that he finally released a heavy sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry about that,” he said.

I blushed and stared up at him, clearing my throat. “What do you mean?” I’d asked.

“For saying what I said back there. About being in love with you,” he said. How odd, I’d thought, that he would apologize for saying he loves me… “It’s fine. I was surprised, but…”

“It was the only way I could think of to get your mom to trust me.”

Suddenly, my body felt ice cold. A hope that I didn’t know I’d been carrying shattered on the floor and I could only nod my head and force a smile. “It was clever of you.”

He’d chuckled at this and offered a shrug. “Clever…,” he repeated. “Well, I just don’t want to put you in a bad situation with your mother. Anything I can do to help.”

Help.

He’d done it to help me.

“Sometimes kindness is cruelty,” I said to Hana with a heavy sigh. “Anyway, I’m gonna go to the convenience store to drop off my name tag and stuff.”

“You quit?” she asked, surprise coloring and lifting her voice.

I nodded. “I did. Yoongi is offering me a job at his company.”

She was quiet. “I…I can’t help but feel weird about this whole thing,” she said.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I think that’s the normal reaction.”

“I…I didn’t really mean it when I tried to get you to marry him. I was joking,” she said.

Did she feel responsible? “Trust me, Hana, this was my decision. Nobody else.”

She was quiet a moment. “Well…do you like him at least?”

I felt my chest clench and sighed into the receiver. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, Y/N-,”

I didn’t hear the last of her sentence, since I’d ended the call and was already on my feet, padding to my dresser to grab some proper clothes. I hadn’t been lying when I said I had to get to the convenience store.

Jungkook stared at me as I deposited my name tag and t-shirt behind the counter, his eyes following my movements precisely. I hadn’t looked at him since I’d entered the store. There was far too much to explain, and if I gave him any opening, any sign that I wanted to chat, I knew he would begin to ask questions I couldn’t answer. Or at least that was what I thought.

“I…uh, I saw the articles,” he said after more than five minutes in silence, presumably the longest he’d ever stayed quiet.

I finally glanced at him as he stood beside me, still working despite the complete lack of costumers. It was nearly dinnertime, and Jungkook was nearly off the clock. This left the two of us alone, no social buffer to hep us communicate.

Back in the day when we’d first started working together, Jungkook had hardly been able to hold a conversation with me. It seemed that unknown social waters scared the guy.

Neither of us were that great at handling awkward situations.

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh as I ran a hand through my hair, turning to face him directly. “Weird, huh?”

His eyes pierced through me, but with the way I was feeling it was hard to feel intimidated. “You seem weird.”

I chuckled. “Aha,” I said. “I am weird aren’t I? I’m weird.”

“Y/N,” he said, his hand finding the crook of my elbow.

I shook him away. “Forget it. I’m just in a strange place right now. A lot of things don’t make sense to me,” I said, sighing. “No, it’s really just me that doesn’t make sense.”

At this he finally released a laugh. “We can agree on that at least. How about we go out after my shift? Grab some food, drinks maybe?” he asked.

Abysmally, I shook my head. I wanted to wallow alone for a while longer, I wanted to sit in my own melancholy thoughts and wonder why a single untrue phrase made me so sad. “I’m bad company right now, Kook.”

He smiled. “I think you’re fine company.”

“Then you have bad taste.”

“Shut up, you Negative Nancy. Let’s just go and get some lamb skewers. My treat,” he said, offering me his big hand to shake.

I smacked it away, but the longer he badgered the more tempted I became. A warm meal with an old colleague…something about the normalcy of it made me want it badly. The more I pictured it, the better it sounded. It wasn’t that I wanted to spend more time with Jungkook, or that I particularly liked lamb skewers, but a reprieve from my depressing, spiraling thoughts was horribly enticing.

I chewed on my lip for a moment as I pondered his offer before, at long last, I peered up at him through my loose hairs. “You’ll pay?”

“Sweet Caroline~,”

“BUM BUM BUM!”

“The good times never seemed so good~,”

“SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD!”

Jungkook and I responded chorally to the girl onstage, microphone waving in her hand, the call-and-response nature of the song livening up the already rowdy crowd. Jungkook hopped at my side with the beat of that familiar song, his laugh turning to more of a giggle, his eyes disappearing with his smile. I joined him in jumping and before long, the whole crowd of pleasantly full, pleasantly drunk patrons of the skewer-and-karaoke joint was jumping with us. All of our hands swayed in the air, more and more folks finding the stage and, subsequently, being sucked into the crowd. Jungkook and I were pushed close together, me far more inebriated than him, and I stumbled a little on my feet, jostling the man next to me as he chanted with his beer.

Startled, he glanced down at me and, upon turning to see me apologizing profusely, chuckled and patted the top of my head. I jerked away from the motion slightly, knocking into Jungkook’s chest.

“Sorry, babe,” said the drunk man with a laugh.

I shook my head. “It’s fine,” I assured him, angling my body away from him nonetheless.

The gesture was innocuous enough, but somehow the idea of this stranger touching me fondly put me off. Luckily for me, Jungkook seemed to pick up on my discomfort. Unluckily for me, however, the drunk man did not.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

I sighed and turned to him once again, resolved to tell him to back off, but Jungkook’s hand was already on my shoulder, giving the man a stern look. “Her name is none of your business. Lay off.”

I appreciated the chivalry, if that was what it was, but I didn’t need someone to take care of me. “C’mon, chaperone, let her have some fun,” teased the man. I could sense no poor intentions from him, just too much beer.

“I’m already having fun, sir. And I’m engaged,” I said with a smile, patting his shoulder like he’d patted my head and leading Jungkook by the elbow back towards our table. Back towards our drinks.

Even though my mind was present, my body seemed intent on defying me and as I neared my seat across from Jungkook, I collapsed heavily against it and the thing rocked dangerously as if it may tip. I was quick to adjust my balance, but Jungkook’s eyes were serious as he appraised me. For the second time in only a few days I was the drunker of two people, and for the second time in only a few days, I felt like I was in the care of the soberer. He read my expression, his brow heavy, and I shooed his gaze away with my hands, grabbing for my drink. I downed the rest of it before Jungkook could stop me. Unlike the last time, this round of drinking was spurred not by anxiety but by confusion and more than a little disappointment. I reeked of desperation, and so did my movements. Why was I feeling this way anyway? It wasn’t like I liked him.

“Give me your phone,” demanded Jungkook seriously.

I scoffed and held the thing even closer to my body. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but that guy is still staring at you and you’re not exactly in the right headspace to fend him off.”

“I handled myself pretty well back there.”

“What’s up with you, huh? This isn’t like you at all.”

“How would you know what’s like me and what’s not?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Y/N, we’ve worked together for over a year now. You’ve only ever been stable and consistent and reliable. Now, what, you’re marrying some guy you’ve never even mentioned and you’re drinking like you’ve got a death wish?” he asked. His words tumbled from his lips with a cool indifference, but his eyes were stern.

I wanted to defend myself, my decisions, my recent behavior, but he was right. I wasn’t myself. I hadn’t been myself in a while. I’d been scared and stupid. I’d made choices that the old me never would have. Choices that the old me would have scoffed at, would have chastised me for. I’d been making those choices since…since when?

Since I lost my job at the music store. That was the start of everything, wasn’t it? The pivotal moment when I lost control of my life? My feelings? That was the problem…

“I gotta go,” I said, pushing up to my feet unsteadily, my bag laying sideways on the table before I jerked it up my shoulder and began feeling my way outside in the dark restaurant.

“Wait! Stop it!” he called, scrambling after me. “He’s still looking! Y/N, he’s following you! Jesus Christ,” Jungkook mumbled, finally catching me as I ruffled my hair on the sidewalk. Rather than trying to grab me he simply took up the space by my side, his eyes darting around like a criminal. “Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”

I pulled the sleeve of my light sweater up my arm, but it kept sliding back down to my wrist. I continued to fight with it as I answered in a breath, “I’m going to the music store.”

“The music-what? Why are you going there?” he asked.

I chuckled, the sound dark against the soft light of dusk. “Mhm. That’s where it all went wrong,” I said. “That was the point of no return.”

“You’re making even less sense now.”

“No, this is the most sense I’ve made in days,” I said.

“What are you gonna do when you get there, huh?”

“I’m gonna get my job back. Get my life back,” I said, resolved as I finally got that damn sleeve to sit in the crook of my elbow where I wanted it.

I wheeled around and began down the road. We were still in Gangnam, near enough to Mr. Kim’s instrument store to get there by bus or if desperate, — which I was — by foot. Jungkook cast an uneasy look over his shoulder and groaned.

“Please, please let me call you a cab and get you home safely,” he said. “That guy is right behind us. He’s gonna follow you. Please come to your senses.”

I scoffed. “I can handle myself. I’m gonna get my job back and I’m gonna be reliable and…what did you say? Stable. I’m gonna be that girl again, okay?” I said, placing my hands on his chest and nodding my head vigorously. It was the first time I felt clear since before Yoongi said that stupid thing.

“I-I can’t leave you alone right now, so please just…just listen, okay?” he said, all the while turning over his shoulder to look at the restaurant we’d just left. I followed his eyes to find the very same man who’d patted me, drunk as a skunk and shambling our way.

“I can handle that guy, okay?” I said with a laugh. “Here, hold my things and I’ll tell him to leave us alone.” I handed him my bag, shoving it into his chest as I walked towards the man, my sleeves still perfectly rolled.

“No, no, no, no, no,” said Jungkook, following me closely and wrapping an arm around my waist, turning my body around towards the street, away from the man as he called after me.

Jungkook settled me at the bus stop only a few feet away, sitting down beside me with a heavy sigh and scrolling through his phone. “So…the music shop,” I said slowly, my voice slurring. God, did I hate how I sounded when I was drunk. Reminded me of Saturday. Reminded me of Yoongi.

Ugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hold on a second,” he said, still furrowing his brow at his phone. “God, why is his contact name Mr. Min?”

“Huh?” I asked. The name caused me to sit straighter and forced my mind to focus. “Why are you talking about him right now?”

“Because I’m calling him,” he said, placing the phone to his ear. It was only then that I realized that the black-and-white plastic case protecting the phone looked awfully familiar…

“No!” I shouted, scrambling over his body to fight for my phone.

He effortlessly fended me off, dismissing me entirely with only a click of his tongue. “Yes, this is Jeon Jungkook. I’m a friend of your fiancé….Yes, she’s fine. Just a little…intoxicated.”

“No, please, please give me my phone,” I begged quietly, desperate not to be heard by the man who had been stomping loudly through my thoughts for days.

“Shh,” chided Jungkook, raising a finger to his lips. “I’ll text you the address. We’re waiting at a bus stop….No, it’s no problem. I’ll wait with her….Well, there’s a man watching her. I’m worried he might be trouble if I leave. And she’s…well, she’s probably more drunk than I let on.”

“I’m not drunk! Not even drunk. Look, Kook, look at me!” I called, seizing his attention as I stood to my feet and walked in a straight line along the edge of the sidewalk in front of us, both my arms spread wide. “Look! Field sobriety test!”

“A lot more,” he murmured into the phone before ending the call and typing something furiously.

I glanced over his shoulder, back at the restaurant’s facade, and saw the man from before hooting at me, waving his arms to call me back. He didn’t approach, just continued waving madly like he had something to tell me. In his left hand something shiny caught the light. I pouted, angry with him for ruining my plan, and lifted my own left hand slowly, like I may wave back. He continued to holler at me from across the sidewalk, looking like a drunkard. Silently, I lifted only one choice finger on my left hand.

The man stopped his movements and gaped at me, pointing at his hand again. Was he trying to give me his number? Trying to talk to me again? It seemed like a dumb way to flirt with someone. And he didn’t approach, his eyes flashing between me and Jungkook. Maybe he’d been more afraid of the strong boy than he’d let on inside, perhaps he’d seen him under the streetlight and noticed the network of muscles tracing his exposed upper arm.

So, finally, he huffed and turned around, returning the greeting I’d given him before disappearing once again inside the restaurant.

“Creep,” I mumbled, looking back at Jungkook and, with a resilient glare, touched my finger to my nose, then the finger on my other hand, and then the first finger again.

He cracked a smile, unable to look at me, and turned away, laughing into his hands. “Okay, okay. I acknowledge your aptitude for sobriety tests. Just come sit down and wait now, okay?”

I furrowed my brow. “Excuse me, but why do I feel like you’re my babysitter?” I asked.

He cocked a brow. “Aren’t I?”

“No. I’m a fully grown adult.”

“Take your finger off your nose and maybe I’ll take you more seriously,” he said.

Blushing, I pulled my hand down from my face, finger and all. I sighed. I knew I was being unreasonable, but all I wanted was to get to the music store. My realization had felt imperative and urgent.

Nonetheless, I sat down beside him, a respectable distance away.

A car I’d never seen before eased up to the curb in front of where I sat with Jungkook not fifteen minutes later. And from that beautiful white sports car stepped the person in the world I wanted to see the least. Yoongi shut the driver’s side door and examined me with a sigh as I slumped against the bus stop bench. He neared us and I didn’t straighten up, following his movements with my eyes alone. I still wasn’t sure I was going to go along with him anyway. I still had an errand to run, an errand that would hopefully result in Yoongi and me parting ways forever.

“Decided to have your bachelorette party a few days early, huh?” inquired Yoongi as he approached, crouching down to see me properly. Unfortunately, that meant I could see him properly too, sitting just in front of my bare knees.

He was wearing what looked to be his casual clothes, although even the black button-down he had tucked into the same ripped black jeans from the day before looked immaculately pressed and ironed. His dark eyes examined me not with anger or frustration, but with careful precision. His hair was only slightly askew from the wind.

I used my own hair to cover my face as I slumped even more into the back of the bench, pushing Yoongi away with my knees. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” he asked.

I nodded. “You confused me.”

I heard the melodic sound of his chuckle and before I could wonder what he’d found funny he was helping me to my feet and wrapping a strong arm around my waist to keep me upright. Startled, I shook him away and pushed the rest of my hair from my eyes so I could see properly. I dusted off the back of my shorts and cast both Yoongi and Jungkook a glare — respectively.

“I can handle it myself,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Mm,” mumbled Jungkook, scratching his eyelid softly before raising his brows at me. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Now leave me alone. I’m allergic to 6-foot tall man-children,” I said, shoving him away by the arm.

He laughed as he stumbled to the side. “Get a vaccine,” he said with a smirk, deliberately stepping towards me.

I furrowed my brow and glared at him. “Vaccines are to prevent the thing from happening, not for after the thing already happened. How did you even pass biology?” I asked.

“You’re the one who asked for my notes last year!” he exclaimed, pointing at me.

Mortified, I glanced toward Yoongi to see if he’d heard and, of course, he was watching the discourse with a smirk and crossed arms. “I hope you step on something wet while wearing socks when you get home,” I said lowly.

Jungkook’s mouth went slack. “After all I did for you today?”

“Let’s just get you home, huh?” said Yoongi from beside me, gesturing towards his car.

I peered up at him for only a moment before I decided that anywhere was better than being stuck with Jungkook. I followed Yoongi to his car and, before hopping inside through the door Yoongi held open for me, I shot Jungkook a smirk and stuck my tongue out at him. Before he could retaliate, I was inside the car, yanking the door shut. I expected Yoongi to join me quickly, but he stood outside with Jungkook for a few moments chatting. Even though they’d never met, they looked remarkably comfortable together. Maybe I was just too drunk…

“Ready to go home?” asked Yoongi as he took up the driver’s side.

I scoffed. “I’m not going home. Take me to the instrument store,” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Nope. You’re going home.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I said, watching the lights of the city pass outside my window. “You don’t get to decide where I go or what I do. You don’t get to decide if I speak or not. You don’t get to decide.”

“I’m driving the car. I think I do get to decide,” he said softly.

I rolled my eyes. “Then stop the car and let me out.”

“Y/N…,” he sighed. “Can’t you just cooperate?”

“No.”

He was quiet for a moment, still driving on the highway towards my apartment in Itaewon. We were already out of Gangnam. I figured I could catch the bus once he dropped me off and go to the instrument store alone. If I didn’t get my job back today, then I’d never do it. I’d never be bold enough again.

“The store is closed now,” he said from beside me.

I blinked a few times as shock ran through me. I hadn’t even thought of that. Quietly, I groaned and tilted my head back against the black leather headrest. “Dammit!”

“Why are you so insistent on going there anyway?” he asked.

I shrugged. “No reason.” An embarrassed blush spread across my cheeks.

“I’ve never seen you this determined.”

“You’ve only known me a few weeks.”

“Regardless,” he said.

I sighed and smoothed my hands over my thighs, trying to focus my mind. “I wanted to get my job back.”

“Your…your job? They fired you?” he asked.

“Yeah. After my slip-up with you, I was on thin ice. And then I messed up again,” I said. “He fired me.”

He took a deep breath. “My fault, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but no. It’s me. All along it’s been me. I should take responsibility.”

“Listen, the job I’ll give you will pay much better than the instrument store, I promise,” he said, his voice soft.

I watched the dying twilight outside, Seoul colored in shades of violet, and shook my head. “It’s not about money.”

“If it’s not money, then…what is it?” he asked.

I felt like there was no way for us to understand each other on this topic.

“Nevermind.”

We arrived at my apartment after a few long minutes in silence, the radio providing a melancholy soundtrack as we drove. I was sobering up slowly, but I could still feel the lightheadedness lulling me. Yoongi seemed content enough just sitting there driving, and I took the moment of quiet to steady my thoughts. Why was I so upset with him anyway? He’d only done something kind for me.

“Well,” I said, rifling through my bag to find my keys.

“I’ll walk you up.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not…having the best day.”

“All the more reason to walk you up,” he said.

I sighed and, rather than fighting with him, simply shrugged and exited the car, still digging for my apartment keys. I grumbled on the sidewalk for only a moment before he was at my side and I had to stop my search to lead him up the stairs. I was resolved not to let him inside, to say a chaste goodbye at the door and send him home with a slightly drunken wave.

He followed me carefully from behind, walking a good foot behind on the sidewalk, a good step behind on the stairs. It was like he was a bodyguard and I was a movie star. But as we landed on the rooftop, plastered with chipping paint, I was reminded that neither of those things could have been further from the truth.

“You have the whole roof,” he said with a pleasant smile, taking a look at the city around us.

I blushed and resumed my search for my keys. “Yeah, it’s a penthouse after all.”

“A penthouse?”

“That’s how it was listed on the ad.”

He chuckled. “Huh.”

“Ugh!” I exhaled, turning my bag upside down to see all of its contents splayed out on the ground in front of me. I crouched beside my belongings and squinted at them, finding no key.

“Having some trouble?” he asked.

Trouble…

“That guy!” I shouted, standing to my feet with a groan. I slumped my shoulders as I remembered. He’d been waving his hands furiously, the glint of metal shining in his palm. He’d been trying to give me back my keys. “God, he must have left his things inside,” I thought aloud, trying to figure out why he hadn’t just approached and handed them to me like a normal person.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked from my side, staring down at me with worried eyes.

“That guy at the bar. He…my keys…he had them,” I said quietly as I moped.

Yoongi exhaled in a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’ll have someone fetch them in the morning. It’s dark. Let’s just go to my place for now,” he said, shaking his head and turning on his heel.

“Wait!” I shouted as I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Isn’t that a little…,” I hedged, unable to meet his eyes as I blushed.

He chuckled softly. “You’re my fiancé. Why would it be inappropriate for you to come to my apartment?”

“I…,” I started, then glanced over my shoulder at my cold, dark apartment, juxtaposed against the cool, dark night. I released his arm and cleared my throat. “I guess.”

Holly was quick to jump against my shins as I entered Yoongi’s apartment, a real penthouse, and kicked off my shoes in the doorway. Yoongi’s previous somberness melted away and a soft smile spread across his face as he leaned down beside Holly and gave the small dog’s curly head a rub. I walked through the doorway, taking in the impeccable place. It was all white marble, white furniture, white countertops, black blankets, black curtains that had been pushed to the sides of massive windows overlooking the whole city. Like Seoul was on display every night, just for him.

“Feel free to sit down,” he said without looking.

The living room beckoned as Yoongi cooed over Holly and I walked laboriously towards the white sofa. I tossed my bag on the furthest cushion of the couch before I collapsed against it. I curled into the black faux fur of the massive blanket which had been draped across the couch’s broad back. Holly and Yoongi were still playing by the doorway, and I was watching on from the couch in silence, laying on my side, letting the wooziness ease a little. He seemed so different than usual…

“Would you like some tea? Maybe some toast to help sober up?” asked Yoongi, finally taking note of me as I rested on his couch.

I shrugged. “Not really. I just want to sleep.”

He chuckled. “Then sleep.”

“I have a question first.”

His brows raised and he approached me, Holly on his heels. He came to a seat at my feet and I sat up straight, still wrapped up, to look at his face properly. Of course, he was devastatingly handsome. That was something I’d grown used to. But he was also softer at home than he’d been outside.

“Holly…,” I said, watching him as he hopped up onto the couch and into my lap. I smiled as I ran my fingers through his brown curls. “He’s a very important part of your life.”

Yoongi nodded and smiled as Holly curled into me, resting his head on my thigh. “He is.”

“What else is important to you?” I asked.

He thought, really pondered, for a long moment before responding. “Music is important. I suppose…not letting my parents down is important to me as well. Living up to my name.”

“Becoming CEO?” I asked.

He nodded. “My father won’t step down until I’ve proven myself,” he said with a sigh. “He wants me to prove I can commit to something. Hence the…,”

“The marriage.”

“Yes.”

“What else is important to you though? Existentially?” I asked, emboldened by the leftover soju in my veins.

He reached a hand over to my lap to rub Holly’s back fondly. “Existentially…,” he said quietly.

“What makes you feel fulfilled?”

“I wonder,” he said, taking in his breath slowly through his nose and releasing it in a sigh. “How about you, then? Is that an easy question for you to answer?”

I nodded. “I want to be a capable person. I want to take care of myself and my mother. She raised me alone and she taught me that it’s important to sustain yourself. I don’t want to rely on someone else and I want to make my own decisions,” I said.

“I see,” he said, thinking. “Then that’s why you got so upset with me the night of the party. Why you got upset when I drove you home.” He hadn’t posed his words as a question, but rather an objective statement of fact.

“It’s also why I got upset when you said you loved me,” I said, the pieces finally falling together. “I didn’t like that you just…decided to say that and then decide it was a lie. You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t,” I said, smoothing Holly’s hair as his eyes drooped shut. Yoongi kept watching his dog, not once raising his gaze to me. “We’re just different, that’s all.”

“I feel like I keep messing up with you.”

“I feel the same.”

Finally he looked over at me and we seemed, for a brief moment, to be on the same page. “How about we start making rules then? For our time together.”

I shrugged. “That may work.”

“Okay. You start.”

“Don’t say something that I might misunderstand. I know to you love and romance aren’t important but they’re very serious to me. Try not to shake me up,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, then smirked at me. “Don’t go drinking with other guys again,” he said.

I blushed and shook my head wildly. “No! It’s not like that between me and Jungkook. He’s hardly even a guy.”

He laughed. “I don’t mind what kind of relationship you two have. Just don’t endanger our arrangement,” he said.

My heart clenched a little. Of course. It was business between us after all. “Okay. I’ll be more careful,” I said, pursing my lips. “Consult me with decisions so we can make them together. We’re partner and partner, not employee and boss.”

He smiled at me softly before nodding his head. “Fair enough.”

“I suppose we should write these down,” I said, looking over his shoulder at my bag as it slumped against the cushion near his leg.

I reached over his lap to grab it in search of my cell phone. If I didn’t write down my rules, I’d forget them by the morning. I could become scatterbrained, especially in front of Yoongi, and being slightly inebriated didn’t help. I needed assurance that this conversation had truly happened, and accountability on both ends that we would abide by the rules.

He stiffened as my upper body hovered over his lap and, disturbed by my movements, Holly hopped off my lap and onto the floor, finding his bed near the TV. I continued to squirm my way over to my bag and I could hear Yoongi’s breath hitch in his throat. Was he perhaps nervous around girls?

I glanced up at him and saw nothing but his typical composure, the only sign of discomfort being his hands as they floated above my back while I strained on his lap. Sober, of course, I’d never have been so bold. But suddenly I was glad for the alcohol. Without it I wouldn’t have known I could even remotely affect Yoongi.

I stretched and grabbed for my bag, finally snatching it and sitting up properly, using Yoongi’s knee to prop myself up. Suddenly we were face to face, our noses inches apart, his dark eyes wide and mine matching. I felt the flush on my cheeks, felt it grow hotter and hotter, extending even towards my ears. His eyes scanned my face, his hands now thrown back against the couch like he’d been stopped by a policeman, and I saw the ghost of a blush working beneath his pale skin. I’d never been so close to him before.

I felt that familiar bubbling of wistful sadness in my stomach, the one I’d felt all day since he’d revealed that his confession had been a lie. I thought I’d made sense of it, thought I finally understood it. He’d taken my freedom — my free will, rather — and I’d been tugged along, in the throes and out again, without so much as a choice. That was what was bothering me.

But then why did I feel like a chunk of my heart was out of place?

Something still bothered me and as half of my body was draped across his lap, my arms still using his legs for support to sit upright, I had a sudden and unstoppable urge to figure it out.

All I had to do was tilt my head just slightly, lean forward the tiniest measure, and I would have my answer.

And so I did, bracing myself against his shoulder as I took in his face up close. Porcelain skin tinged pink at the cheeks, deep-set eyes blown wide staring down at me, full lips parted only slightly to reveal just a hint of white teeth, hair falling against his forehead, wind-swept here and there. I didn’t know when I’d have such a view again.

I leaned forward a little, keeping my eyes on his as his lids grew heavy. I could feel his breath against my lips, could feel a single hand on my hip, having relaxed from its previous position against the couch. I released the black strap of my bag, hearing the thing clatter to the floor, and finally closed the distance. Our lips touched, his soft and gentle against mine. I hardly moved, hardly breathed, as my lips worked against his. He didn’t pull away. It was only a moment, but it felt like eternity. The space around us was hot and charged, and his grip on my hip tightened. I’d wondered before what it may be like to kiss him, but actually doing it was different. So different. My heated cheeks grew redder.

Because, in the moment before I’d shut my eyes, I could have sworn he leaned in too.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi #suga #bts reactions #bangtan #bts au #arranged bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts reader insert

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mangled-dreams · 6 years

Text

Café

For @destinggirl who requested:

Okay so... Wilford or Dark x Reader with the lines, "I'd kill for coffee... literally." "It's six o'clock in the morning, you're not having vodka!" "Did you just hiss at me?" "Do you really need all that candy?"

I was able to use 3/4 of the quotes, so the fourth “Do you really need all that candy?” Will be in a second story. Now, without further ado, here is’ Café,

Laughing over your cup of coffee you look to your long time friend, Vanessa. Tall, athletic, with wavy black red hair you envy her. She's beautiful inside and out and you love having her as your best friend. Currently it's just before six in the morning and you both just got off the night shift, sharing a cup of decaf before heading to bed for the night... well day. It's your last night shift so it's not so important for you to go to sleep right away.

"I can't believe you manage to keep living here with them both. I'd have a hard time not sleeping with either of them." Vanessa says sipping the last bit of her coffee and sets it down. Somehow the conversation always seems to come back to Wilford and Dark and the lack of sex escapades that doesn't happen.

"Vee, please, not this again. I'm living with them because Wilford accidentally burnt my house down. I'm not here to sleep with my roommates." You tell her hearing the front door slam shut and sigh. "Sounds like Will is home." You say gathering up your dirty dishes and take them to the sink.

Vanessa watches you with a shrewd gaze but does decide it's time for her to head home. She chuckles, stands up, and walks over to you patting your back. You pause in your washing and dry your hands turning to face her with a neutral expression.

"I'm going to head home. I still have to stop by the store and get a few groceries." Vanessa tells you with a half smile on her lips.

You nod, tell her you'll see her later, give her a hug, and see her out. Usually Wilford comes into the kitchen to say good morning or at the very least to check up on you. Today he doesn't. It's a little worrying for you to have not seen him yet. "Will?" You call leaning on the banister peering up the stairs where your rooms are.

He doesn't talk but you hear him clamoring around in the kitchen and go to investigate what Wilford could be doing at this early hour. He's never been one to make breakfast or to make a mess after you've just cleaned. Peeking into the kitchen you spot Wilford at the coffee maker pouring a cup, it's not the coffee that instantly catches your attention.

Moving with purpose you snatch up the small silver flask and open it getting a strong whiff of some kind of vodka--you believe, before capping it again. "Wilford, it's six in the morning, you are not having vodka."

Wilford whips around nearly spilling his cup in the process and reaches out for the flask. Instinctively you back pedal from his reach and skirt around the table keeping it between you and him.

"I demand you had that back to me!" Wilford bellows at you. It's rather startling to see him so worked up over his booze.

Shaking your head you tell Wilford, "No, Wilford, you can't be drinking this early in the morning! I can honestly say I've never see you act like this." Circling the table in time with Wilford's attempts to reach you, you wait for your moment to get to the sink and pour the vodka out.

"You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. Now, hand over my flask." Wilford shouts attempting to catch you by reaching across the four chair table. Jumping back you loosen the cap and shove it spout first into the sink. Wilford cries out and quickly rounds the table trying to salvage what little is still in the container. "What have you done! How dare you do this?" Glaring at you, Wilford actually hisses at you.

Backing away again your head swirls a little at the amount of alcohol coming off Wilford. Knitting your brows together you look at him, really take a good look at the state he's in and ask "Did you just hiss at me?" His hair is a mess--more so than normal, and his clothing is crumpled and there are a few stains you hadn't seen the day before. He looks in a bad way and it hurts a little. You've been with Wilford and Dark for close to a year now and haven't seen Wilford look so unkempt.

"Wilford, what's going on? Are you okay?" You ask easily slipping to his chest, one hand pressed against his the wall of his chest and the other on his arm steadying him as he sways. There is a glaze you hadn't noticed over his eyes. Alarm bells are going off on high right now.

Wilford doesn't respond, his body wavering as he takes in a deep breath to say something but instead burps. His whole body falls forward and you push against him to keep him from squishing you under his weight. "Steady! Here, let's get you in a chair." You offer walking Wilford over to your empty seat from earlier and help him to sit. It's not accomplished with any sense of grace, Wilford just seemed to plop into the chair, the chair skidding back a little under the force.

Stepping away from Wilford for a glass of cold water he snags your hand. Halting you turn your torso to look back at Wilford with confusion. "Will? Are you feeling sick?" You ask moving back to stand in front of Wilford. You don't pull your hand from his, your eyes meeting for a few seconds before he opens to speak to you.

"Don't go."

You frown at him unsure why he would say that. "Will, I was just going to get you some water and maybe some crackers... How much did you drink? When did you stop drinking?" You ask spying his pistol and sigh with relief. At least he didn't lose his favorite shooty.

His grip on your hand tightens and he pulls you closer. You comply not wanting to get him upset walking forward until you're standing just half a foot from him between his legs. You sigh. He really is a handsome man and any woman in their right mind would fall madly in love with him...

You included, but he is your roommate and you feel it would be awkward to sleep with one of your roommates out of the blue. Looking up at the clock you realize it's been nearly a half hour since Wilford got home. "Will, let me get you into bed. You need to sleep." You offer watching Wilford drop his head. It's times like these that you have to fight your own reactions. You'd love to sink your fingers into his soft pink and black colored hair, but know better.

Without warning Wilford releases your hand and wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him, close enough to rest his head against against your abdomen. It's startling to be so close and have Wilford wrapped around you like his, but you remain still.

Mentally you say fuck it and run your fingers through his hair, the strands almost silky smooth. You feel Wilford tense as you lightly scratch his scalp before relaxing into your touch. Neither of you speak for a good long while. Whatever Wilford is going through he doesn't seem to need your council.

At some point Wilford's hands get under your shirt caressing your bare skin. His finger tips press into your muscles in a rhythmic fashion, easing whatever tension you hold there. You don't mind it until his hands creep up your shirt.

"Whoa, Will, stop, what are you doing?" You ask removing your hands from his hair and push his hands down. He doesn't release you, instead letting you pushing his hands down to rest on the outside of your thighs.

"Why do you push me away?" Wilford asks, his broken accent hurting your very soul. Bending just slightly your take his face into your hands and lift it up so you can see his eyes.

"What are you talking about? Will, it's me. Did you forget who's in front of you?" You ask him in the softest tone imaginable. He's so sad looking and pathetic your heart squeezes.

"Y/n, please, don't... don't leave me." Wilford pleads pressing his fingers into your thighs anchoring you to him.

Confused you say, "I'm not going anywhere Wilford. Come on, it's okay." Rubbing Wilford's cheek you sweep away a few stray tears. "What makes you think I'm leaving?" You ask when he almost refuses to say anything more.

Wilford seems to pout up at you like a child, more tears gathering in his eyes. He must really be hammered. "Dark said you're leaving--moving out!" Wilford finally tells you once again wrapping his arms around you, locking to him with his face in your stomach again.

What...What? No, no you're not moving. As much as you know you can leave at anytime you chose not to because of your relationships with Dark and Wilford. "Is that why you're drinking? Wil, I'm not leaving. I told Dark I was going to stay with my mom in a few weeks for her wedding, but I'm coming back. There's no need to go off the deep end." You say petting Wilford's face, at least the part you can see. You feel Wilford hug you tighter.

"Do you like it here?" Wilford asks his voice muffled by your clothing and flesh.

"Of course I do. I love being here with you and Dark. You both make me smile way more than you upset me." You tell him honestly. "Come one, you should get some coffee in you."

"Don't go." Wilford pleads his grip tightening.

You sigh, run your hand through your hair, and look at Wilford. "How much did you drink? You must be pretty gone to be acting this way." You muse quietly.

Wilford doesn't respond to your question. Running your fingers through his hair once more you look to the window and watch the sun slowly rise up. Your mind begins to wonder while teasing Wilford's tresses. You wonder when Wilford will release you and go to sleep.

A yawn hits you out of no where. Covering your mouth with your hand your chest fills with air and your shirt rises exposing your stomach. At that every moment you feel lips touch just beside you navel. Shrieking your arms drop down and you stare at Wilford's head half hidden by your shirt.

“W-Wilford!” You gasp pulling your shirt from over his head.

“Shh,” Wilford whispers against your heated skin. You shiver at the feeling of his breath against such sensitive skin. He kisses your stomach again sending more shivers through your spine.

"Wilford, please." You whisper not sure if you're asking him to stop or continue. It's been a long time since you've had anyone touch you like this--too be so close to your bare skin. As much as you need this skin to skin contact you know it's not right. Taking a steady breath you sternly remove his hand and pull away from him shoving your shirt back down.

Wilford whines at you in his drunken state pawing at you to allow him to continue. Shaking your hand you push his hands down to his legs. "Y/n!" He whines looking up into your eyes.

"Will, you're drunk and I'm a woman of standards." you tell him without hesitation. "If you were sober this would go a little further, but I am not taking advantage of a drunken man."

Thick black eye brows shoot up in surprise and what you can see of his bottom lip makes an O at your admission. For the first time since Wilford has entered the house you get the feeling he's not as intoxicated at you thought.

"Y-you would..."

"You'd have to ask me out first! Like on an actual date and everything!" You say quickly pointing your finger at him. "And you couldn't get like this," you motion to his state of being, "every again! I'm not about to...to date... someone with a drinking..." Your voice dies as Wilford gets to his feet with a smug smile on his lips. Your eyes are trained on his face as he stares down at you. "You're not drunk are you?" You ask.

"I was, however that was much earlier." Wilford says still looking so smug.

You glare at him. "Then what the hell was all that?" You ask motioning to the skin and the flask discarded in it. "Are you just screwing with me again?" You ask feeling angry at Wilford's action, even as you know you shouldn't be too surprised by his antics.

"It was simply a joke, however it has lead to something much more promising." Wilford says easily taking your hand into his. Your glare waivers at the look in his dark brown eyes. He looks so...happy?

"W-Wilford..." You whisper, your voice failing you.

"My dear, Y/n, would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight?" Wilford asks his mustache moving with his over animated lip movements. It's funny but also a large part of Wilford's charm.

"I... are you sure?" you ask knowing it's never good to date your roommate.

Wilford smiles at you with a quick nod. Without any words Wilford pulls you to him and kisses you, stealing your breath and any sort of thought. Bursting into a fit of giggles you agree to the dinner date. Wilford is such a suave SOB, and you adore him for it.

Before you could do anything more Dark enters the kitchen muttering, “I’d kill for coffee... literally.” His eyes quickly spot you and Wilford wrapped up in each others arms and pauses. “I was wondering when this would finally come to a close,” and walks over to the coffee maker, pours himself a cup and adds creamer, then leaves sipping on the steaming nectar of the Gods.

#Wilford Warfstache #Darkiplier #reader insert #Female reader #wilford x reader #taking requests #request #fluff #confessions #say yes #longingheart #the chase #has ended #cute #drunken wilford #not so drunk it seems #stealing kisses #thank you mark #for this character

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tinyshe · 3 years

Text

Why Vaccine Passports Must Be Rejected

Story at-a-glance

Illinois has launched Vax Verify, an online COVID jab verification portal for residents. Anyone over the age of 18 can use the portal to check and download their shot records for events and businesses that require it

Identity authentication on the Vax Verify portal is done using a one-time verification process through the financial credit score company Experian — a decision that suggests the vaccine passport will be connected with financial information in the future

At the end of July 2021, Thales announced a digital biometric ID wallet, designed to help you “access government services from anywhere.” Thales admits vaccination passports “will act as a precursor to the rollout of mobile digital IDs”

The plan is to collect and join together as much personal information as possible, and there’s no reason to think this data won’t be shared for control, social engineering and profit. That’s what Google, Facebook and other platforms have done for years

The Great Reset ties you to its new social control system through an electronic ID linked to your bank account, health records and social credit system, so that it can then be used to dictate every facet of your life

August 12, 2021, NBC Chicago reported1 the launch of Vax Verify, an online COVID jab verification portal for residents of Illinois. Anyone over the age of 18 can use the portal to check and download their shot records for events and businesses that require it. Illinois Department of Public Health director Dr. Ngozi Ezike said in a statement:

“As more businesses, events, organizations, and others require proof of vaccination, Illinois residents will be able to confirm using Vax Verify that they have been vaccinated for COVID-19. With the current surge in cases, more people are making the decision to get a COVID-19 vaccine and this new tool will aid residents in confirming their vaccination where needed.”

Will Your Medical Status and Finances Be Tied Together?

Identity authentication on the Vax Verify portal is done using a one-time verification process through the financial credit score company Experian — a decision that suggests your medical history and finances might become interconnected in the future.

This is risky territory, considering we’re already hearing calls to exclude unvaccinated individuals from society in any number of ways. For example, politicians, government officials, health authorities, media personalities and common folk have suggested making life untenable for the unvaccinated by:2

Requiring them to get tested daily at their own expense

Docking their paychecks (provided they’re allowed to work at all)

Charging them nonrefundable quarantine fees

Denying them medical care at hospitals and private medical offices

Canceling their private insurance or raising premiums by thousands of dollars a year

Suspending their gun permits

Suspending their driver’s licenses

Denying access to loans

Withholding government assistance

Withholding federal benefits like Social Security, VA benefits, subsidized housing and pensions

Barring them from bars and restaurants

Barring them from exercise facilities and hotels

Barring them from buying food in grocery stores

Barring them from using public transportation and traveling on airplanes

The way we’re going, it’s not hard to imagine a near future in which unvaccinated people aren’t allowed to hold a job, get an education, travel or even have access to basic financial services. Taken at face value, the rhetoric thrown around right now indicates the plan is to basically destroy the life of anyone who refuses to consent to be a part of this medical experiment.

This is as coercive as it can possibly get, and coercing volunteers to participate in human medical trials is strictly forbidden by both national and international bioethics laws.3,4,5,6 Yet it’s happening at scale that is nothing short of mind-boggling, and with full support of the U.S. government.

It’s Not ‘Just a Vaccine Passport’

For years, Naomi Wolf, author of the book, “The End of America: Letter of Warning to a Young Patriot,” has warned that the United States is on the path toward tyranny. In the book, she lays out 10 steps toward tyranny that have been followed by virtually all would-be tyrants, be they on the political left or right. They were followed in Italy in the '20s, Germany in the '30s, East Germany in the '50s, Chile in the '70s, China in the '80s, and worldwide right now.

The 10 steps toward tyranny start with the invocation of a terrifying internal and/or external threat. It may be a real threat or an imagined one, but in all cases, it’s a hyped-up threat. From 2001 onward, that threat was terrorism, which was used as the justification for stripping us of our liberties.

The “war on terror” has now shifted from unknown terrorists to an even more elusive enemy: the virus. And unlike previous wars, enemies of the state now include a nation’s own citizens.

Punishable acts of terror have also shifted from blowing things up with explosives to simply disagreeing with our government about medical matters and opposing irrational health recommendations. “Opposition to COVID Measures” is now actually on the Department of Homeland Security’s list of potential terror threats.7

In a March 28, 2021, interview with Fox News’ Steve Hilton, Wolf explained how vaccine passports will ultimately be used to control you and erase human liberty and freedom altogether:8,9

“‘Vaccine passport’ sounds like a fine thing if you don’t understand what those platforms can do,” she said. “I’m CEO of a tech company, I understand what these platforms can do. It is not about the vaccine, it’s not about the virus, it’s about your data.

Once this rolls out, you don’t have a choice about being part of the system. What people have to understand is that any other functionality can be loaded onto that platform … It can be merged with your Paypal account, with your digital currency.

Microsoft is already talking about merging it with payment plans. Your network can be sucked up. It geolocates you everywhere you go. Your credit history can be included. All of your medical and health history can be included …

It is absolutely so much more than a vaccine pass … I cannot stress enough that it has the power to turn off your life, or to turn on your life, to let you engage in society or be marginalized.”

Digital ID Wallet Is Here

That the Great Reset is upon us is clear. At the end of July 2021, Thales announced10 a digital biometric ID wallet, designed to help you “access government services from anywhere.”

The article explains how the last 18 months have led to the necessity for digital equivalent of services we’d normally access in person. Here, Thales spells out what has so far been brushed off as a conspiracy theory:11

“So-called digital ‘vaccination passports’ will play a key role in enabling citizens to access all manner of services and will act as a precursor to the rollout of mobile digital IDs.”

Thales admits that this is the intention behind the rollout of vaccine passports in the European Union. Thales further explains that the digital IDs will:12

Enable you to authenticate your identity

Allow you to keep multiple documents in one place

Combine identity verification and payments

Manage digital signatures, thereby enabling the execution of contracts remotely

If you look at the list of suggested punishments for lack of COVID injection, you can see how this technology could make all those processes more or less automatic. The vaccine passport simply becomes a digital ID wallet, and without a digital ID wallet, you simply cannot do anything or go anywhere.

If you’re upset that PayPal and other digital transaction services are shutting down your account based on your personal views and the things you read,13 just wait until your entire life is tied to a digital ID and you miss your monthly mystery injection.

You might just find yourself a nonperson all of a sudden, with no access to food, money or services of any kind — and probably no real human being to complain or object to either.

Of course, this digital ID will undoubtedly be tied to a China-inspired social credit score as well, so you might become a persona non-grata — an unacceptable and unwelcome outcast — simply by crossing the street illegally or failing to pick up your dog’s poop. Video surveillance with facial recognition is everywhere, and you already carry a geolocation tracker (or two) on your person.

Legal Remedies for Privacy Violations Are Lacking

That vaccine passports will violate your privacy is virtually guaranteed. As noted by MSNBC columnist Tiffany Li in an article titled, “The Risks of COVID ‘Vaccine Passports’ Are Scarier Than You Might Think”:14

“The lack of a federal privacy law leaves digital vaccine passports vulnerable to privacy breaches, they don't solve the glaring problem of vaccination inequality, and, perhaps most dangerously, they risk reinforcing a system of haves and have-nots when our poor and marginalized communities are already suffering disproportionately in the pandemic …

So while vaccine passports could help hasten the end of the pandemic, they also come with severe risks to privacy, equality and civil liberties. There are ways to design vaccine passport apps to preserve as much individual privacy as possible.

But the problem with any solution is that we lack legal remedies for privacy violations and technological discrimination … There are few legal limits to what data a vaccine passport app could collect, and things get complicated if people feel forced to use the apps to re-enter society.

Of course, there are ways to solve these privacy and security problems. Vaccine passport apps should collect as little information as possible — and only information that is strictly necessary to verify vaccinations.

States and companies would need to promise not to sell the information collected by the apps — or, at the very least, not to sell the health information or other sensitive private information.”

Forget Privacy — You’ll Have None

Unfortunately, that’s not the plan. On the contrary, the plan is clearly to collect and join together as much personal information as possible, and there’s no reason to think this data won’t be shared for someone else’s profit.

The Great Reset ties you to its control system through an electronic ID linked to your bank account, health records and social credit system, so that it can then be used to dictate every facet of your life.

That’s what Google, Facebook and other platforms have done for years. Big Data is an industry all its own, and they’re hardly going to forgo the chance to profit from the unprecedented amount of personalized data they can obtain from tapping into digital IDs. That seems a given at this point. Add to that the facts that:

We have a Rockefeller Foundation white paper15 stating that privacy must necessarily be loosened if we are to conquer biological threats

Biological threats are the new never-to-actually-end war because it’s the highway to the Great Reset

The Great Reset and subsequent technocratic rule depends on social engineering, and

Effective social engineering depends on big data from mass surveillance, combined with artificial intelligence

We’re Headed Someplace Few Want to Go

As explained by independent journalist James Corbett,16 the Great Reset ties you to its control system through an electronic ID linked to your bank account, health records and social credit system, so that it can then be used to dictate every facet of your life. If this pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that wannabe dictators don’t give power back to the people once they have it.

Once you’ve given up even a modicum of freedom, you have to fight tooth and nail to get it back. We see this in states all across the U.S. right now, where governors are still holding on to temporary emergency powers after more than 18 months. Freedom is simply never handed out, and protecting your freedom is a lot easier than getting it back once it’s been taken from you.

Also, understand that all the hardware, software, surveillance technology and artificial intelligence the technocrats need to run and ruin your life already exists. All they have to do is link everything together and tie all the various data points to each individual person. Once that’s done, you either obey whatever decree comes out next, or you’ll find yourself unplugged from the matrix that is everyday life.

In a January 7, 2021, article titled “Technocrats Embrace a New COVID Policy: Vaccine Passports,”17 Mitchell Nemeth noted that “For now, the concept of a vaccine passport is only an idea in the abstract.” Fast-forward a mere seven months, and we’re already in the thick of it, with state and national governments around the world rolling out health passports and mandates to match.

At the time, Nemeth pointed out that the Chinese Communist Party was embracing the idea and urged countries to “harmonize” their policies with that of China, where QR codes are used to designate who may or may not enter public spaces, based on their infection status — using a test now known to produce mostly false positives.

China’s surveillance system is such they can track to the minute an infected person’s journey through the city, automatically tagging each and every person they came within 6 feet of along the way, so they can then get a no-go QR code and have to quarantine at home.

CDC Misled Us About Outdoor Transmission Risk

While we’re on the topic of transmission, I hope you watch Tucker Carlson’s report at the top of this article. He covers quite a bit of ground in just 15 minutes, including the revelation that the CDC lied when it claimed outdoor transmission accounted for “less than 10% of COVID cases” — a statistic that led to the recommendation to wear a mask when walking or exercising outdoors.

As it turns out, the 10% statistic was “based partly on a misclassification of some COVID transmission that actually took place in enclosed spaces,” according to The New York Times, which broke the story in early May 2021.18

“Saying that less than 10% of COVID transmission occurs outdoors is akin to saying that sharks attack fewer than 20,000 swimmers a year. (The actual worldwide number is around 150.) It’s both true and deceiving,” The New York Times said.

What’s more, even indoors, the transmission rate is exceedingly low — likely below 1% and possibly as low as 0.1%, Carlson reports. So, even indoors, your risk of getting infected is low, with or without a mask. Certainly, you accomplish nothing good by wearing it outdoors, particularly if you’re exercising.

‘Passports Don’t Prove Immunity; Only Compliance’

Getting back to the passport issue, in a mid-August 2021 blog post,19 independent journalist Sharyl Attkisson pointed out what should be obvious to everyone yet for some reason still isn’t: “Vaccine passports don’t prove immunity; only compliance.”

The reason is simple. The COVID shots don’t prevent infection or transmission. This is admitted by all COVID shot developers, the CDC and real-world infection data. Since the shots cannot prevent infection or transmission, those who have gotten the jab are no less of a risk to other people than an unvaccinated person. So, what public health benefit, exactly, does the vaccine passport offer?

“The only sure thing a vaccine ‘passport’ or verification proves is that somebody complied with advice or mandates,” Attkisson writes. “It does not guarantee that the person has any level of immunity. The person could be infected with COVID-19, and could be spreading it to others.

Meantime, absent from much public discussion is the broader and longer lasting immunity scientists believe is enjoyed by the 120 million+ Americans who have recovered with COVID (or been infected without showing any symptoms).

This group, according to the bulk of scientific data, generally has better protection than the group of vaccinated patients, particularly among the vaccinated for whom the vaccines are no longer proving as effective as the early months after the shots. What do you think is behind the push to require vaccination and passports, and ignore natural immunity?”

Commenters on Attkisson’s blog overwhelmingly thought the intention behind vaccine passports is power grabbing, population control and increasing the Big Pharma revenue stream. What’s your take?

How Might Vaccine Passports Affect Our Economy?

In closing, a blog post by the Birch Gold Group, a precious metal IRA specialist, delves into how vaccine passports might affect the financial realm and reshape the economic landscape:20

“Yes, it’s an official concern now … A mandatory ‘vaccine passport’ … Should a mandatory vaccine passport system be implemented, life will never be normal again … Such a program would mean that around half the country could be put in the position of hearing they have no right to employment or possibly even general interaction in trade because they won’t take the experimental jab ...

Second, we have to consider what the immediate economic and financial effects will be in light of this conflict. For example, look at the amount of relocation and migration that has happened in the U.S. in the past year alone … As has been well documented, blue states are much slower in recovering economically when compared to red states with less restrictions. Not only that, but money moves with people. This is a hard reality …

But let’s say for a moment that vaccine passports were somehow implemented everywhere in the country at the same exact time. What would happen then? Well, the amount of bureaucracy that would be added between the average consumer and everyday trade would be immense, and with red tape comes a slowdown in business.

Whole new wings of the government would have to be created to track and enforce vaccine passports rules … Regular inspections of businesses would have to be enacted, and new taxes would have to be created to pay for the system …

The end result would be the complete disintegration of the small business sector … and of course many millions of jobs would be lost in the process. Less competition means ever increasing prices and a lower quality of goods and services …

Then again … [w]hen governments restrict domestic trade and limit consumer participation based on frivolous requirements, people … find other ways to get the things they need more freely. This means black market trade or barter markets, alternative currencies and sometimes entire underground economies …

And this is where the government disguise of humanitarianism will really fall away and true tyranny will be revealed … By providing services for each other, common people would be ‘opening the door’ to survival outside of the system, and if survival is possible, then non-vaccination is possible. Therefore, the argument will be made by the establishment that alternative economies need to be eliminated ‘for the good of society as a whole.’

There is always an excuse for totalitarianism. With a large portion of the population seeking a means to live without oppression, alternative markets will thrive, and the government will make war on them. Which means the people will be forced to make war on the government. It’s inevitable under every scenario …

Straight barter will be useful, but so will precious metals (especially gold and silver) along with other hard commodities with intrinsic value and utility. What I see in the near future is economic disaster in the wake of any attempt at a vaccine passport system. Millions will lose their jobs or quit their jobs in protest.

Small businesses will disappear under the weight of bureaucracy and constant scrutiny. The quality of goods and services will suffer as competition shrivels. But I also see the birth of a whole new economic system outside of the mainstream control grid. I see true free markets returning, and eventually, I see full blown rebellion.

What I suggest is that people get ready for this eventuality. We need to become producers again, rather than mere consumers. In order to position ourselves for success in the new trade environment we have to be able to make necessities, repair necessities or teach necessary skills. Those that are able to do this will do very well within alternative markets.”

Reject Vaccine Passports

Like the author of that Birch Gold piece, I see nothing positive coming from mandatory COVID injections and vaccine passports, only the destruction of lives and livelihoods. And that’s not even taking into account the potential destruction of people’s health.

Already, roughly half of the American population has put themselves at risk for serious health problems in the future, the full extent of which remains to be seen. Can the health care system survive such an onslaught?

Will the medical system even survive in the long term if worst-case predictions come true and people realize they’ve been duped by people they’ve been brought up to trust with their lives? And who’s going to pay for the medical carnage — again, if worst-case suspicions do come true?

The way out of this nightmare, I believe, is to just say “No” now, while there’s still enough of us to turn this tide around. Yes, you might lose your job. Don’t quit. Let them fire you and get the cause (vaccine refusal) in writing. Yes, you might not be able to fly on certain airlines for the time being, or go on a cruise this summer. This is about the long game. Any freedom you’re willing to give up today, you won’t get back tomorrow.

Remember, the vaccine passport/digital ID wallet will only remain valid as long as you’re in compliance with the rules of the day. Right now, the price of admission to society is one or two COVID shots. In a couple of months, it’ll be another shot. And then another, and then something else.

Once you’re get on this compliance treadmill, you cannot get off. You have to keep complying, no matter what’s asked, or lose your “privileges” — which used to be everyday freedoms we’ve taken for granted our entire lives. Is that really the life you want for yourself and your children?

If not, you have to be brave. The good news is that in this war, we don’t have to dodge bullets. But we do have to exercise moral courage, and simply say “No, I won’t give up my freedom. Not for a virus. Not for anything.”

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vfenrirsv · 3 years

Text

You can fit everything you know

In a bottle for you to show

Pick your brain apart and put it in

And build it again with needles and pins

For too long I haven’t been making myself a priority and I have been drowning, badly. I just feel heavy, like I have the weight of this entire relationship on my shoulders, like I am the only one worrying about if we are okay or good or if we’re even getting along. When was the last time we even had a conversation that was more than a hello or goodbye as we pass each other in the living room? I feel like I have to be the happy one, the responsible one, the adult in this partnership. And I am so very, very, tired. You haven’t even noticed, have you? There are so many things that I want to do in this life, and there are no many places that I want to see, new music I want to hear, new food I want to taste. I used to think that you would be right there beside me while I chased my dreams and followed what I feel is best in me and what satisfies my soul; but now, with the comments you make and the things you decide not to do, and the flagrant disregard for things that I consider important, I am not so sure.

Everything you have earned is a ship

With blue waves crashing into it

But nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore

With your glass ceiling, walls, and floor

I don’t want to live in this state anymore. I don’t even know why I thought that moving out here would be good for me in the long run, but it has swiftly become obvious that I am not interested in anything out here. What is there to explore? The desert stone canyons to the West, far enough away to be Colorado? How about the hot springs to the South East, so far away as to be Arkansas? I need to live in a place that brings me joy by simply being a place where I can get out into nature and breathe a sigh of relief on days when my brain is moving too fast for my body. I want to live in Washington, Oregon, Montana, Nevada, Arizona, or Florida. The Midwest does nothing for me. These farmlands and flat prairies feel open and empty and lonesome. I need the ocean or the desert or the wild woods to soothe my soul. I’m not finding that here, and you don’t seem to care. I do.

Sailing on a ship in a bottle

Anchor all your thoughts to the bottom

Pulling ropes and pulling your head back

To see what is breaking the foremast

I want to pursue a job in my field. I want to be able to gather evidence, test samples, and work with a department lab. I have studied for years to get a job in my field and I am going for it. I have the brains and the drive, why should I say no? If I get offered a job out of state I am going to take it. I am going and you cannot stop me and I don’t even care anymore what you think or want or feel. You say that you are family oriented and want to stay near your parents and brothers and all of your hundreds of extended family members – but I think you’ve forgotten that you are supposed to be my family as well. My familial needs matter. It’s not all about you and I am so tired of you using your family as an excuse as to why you would never consider following me out of state in support of me. Not once when I have brought up moving out of state to find a job in my field have I asked to you abandon or cut your family out of your life; but that is how you act. You act as if moving out of the county we live in is tantamount to you being ripped from your family and being forced into solitude. It’s dramatic and childish and selfish. You’re not the only one with family. It’s not all about what you want.

You set sail alone there is no crew

No one on the deck who can help you

This is all your own battle to win

This is your ship and you are the captain

I don’t want this house. I don’t want these dogs. I don’t want his furniture. I don’t want this stuff. I should have been more firm with you in my expectations and opinions about what I wanted and needed out of this relationship. There are so many things that I have compromised on in order to make you happy and help you achieve your dreams that I have gone ahead and compromised myself into a noose. I am flagrantly unhappy here with all of this clutter and mess and dysfunction that I cannot seem to keep a handle on by myself. I expected you to help me keep everything under control and in order and pleasant; but you’ve made it blatantly obvious that you have no intention of starting any time soon. You don’t keep things clean, you don’t vacuum or treat the carpets, you won’t go thru your belongings in the garage, you won’t hand wash dishes; I could go on and on: you don’t do what you say you’re going to do. And I’m over it. I’m over you.

Oh, captain, let's make a deal

Where we both say the things that we both really feel

I feel scared and I'm starting to sink

And I only sink deeper the deeper I think

Oh, captain, Oh, captain, deal, Oh, captain, deal, Oh woah~

I don’t want to be with someone who won’t be intimate with me. I don’t want to be with someone who spends more time on their phone, or watching telly, or playing video games than they do talking to me about their day, their dreams, their wants or needs. I don’t want to be with someone who won’t explore the world with me. I don’t want to be with someone who refuses to engage in confrontational or uncomfortable conversation about things that matter, things that partners should face and conquer together. I don’t want to be with someone who won’t support me with all of their heart the way I do for them. I don’t want to be with someone who won’t keep their word, doesn’t follow up or follow thru. I don’t want to be with someone who won’t take care of themselves. I don’t want to be with someone who continually says “these things take time” when I talk about building our lives together. We’re in our life. Right now. I shouldn’t have to needlessly wait to build memories, build a home, or build a family with the person I fucking married. I don’t want to be with someone who sees the loneliness and sadness in me and says nothing at all.

There are red spots under your eyes

From when you cry into the sky

Ocean waters rising above your neck, mmm

You feel the glass start to crack

I don’t want to be a prisoner in my own life anymore. I feel trapped in this relationship. I feel guilty about wanting to leave and follow my heart and mind, to go and live my life, because I do love you – I do – but I feel like love just isn’t enough anymore. I am not being fulfilled on any level, so what I thought we were building together is tarnishing. When was the last time you called me your wife? When was the last time you treated me like a new girlfriend? When was the last time you spoke to me like a friend? We are stars passing in the night, roommates who happen to live in a house they bought together, strangers wearing the face of people we thought we loved. I am done not being treated like I matter. I want to go out and have some real friends and actually live my life outside of work, home, grocery store, the gas station, and the occasional coffee shop. I want to go out to bars and grab a drink. I want to dress up and dress down and walk the town and see the lights and I am tired of everything we do being centered on you or your family or your friends or your interests. Why do I have to go and do things on my own? You tell me that you are willing to experience things with me, but don’t go with me when I hike or explore or go into the city.

Sailing on a ship in a bottle

Water's leaking through holes in the bottom

Flying flags of ships that have long since

Sat at the floor of the sea, but in defense

People often say “you have one life to live, so live it to the fullest,” or “in life you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.” This is something I am slowly but surely coming to realize. Often there are times where I question whether something makes me seem like this or like that; if I’m being too bitchy or needy or distant or assertive. I think about what other people will think of me, which is normal because no one inherently wants to portray themselves as something they aren’t. But, ultimately, those opinions and judgments are irrelevant. I can't live my life day by day and question what people will say or do. I am not responsible for how other people interpret their exchanges with me. I am not responsible for their opinion of me based on piecemeal interactions. I have to live my life for myself. I haven’t lived my life for myself in so long I almost don’t even know if I can anymore. I have been so tied up in someone else for so long that I am not even sure how to become myself again without pain, and struggle, and heartbreak. But I’m ready to do it.

You set sail alone there is no crew

No one on the deck who can help you

This is all your own battle to win

This is your ship and you are the captain

I’m ready to love myself, challenge myself, and be a priority for myself; and right now all I feel is like all you’re doing is dragging me down. I come home and you are a thunder-cloud who is satisfied with not living your life. It is not my responsibility to fix your problems, soothe your depression, or enhance your diet and health; and you may think that’s cruel, but all I have done for the past year is try and try and try to make everything clean and functional and okay in our relationship, in our lives, and in our home. I want you to be happy, sure; but I want me to be happy more. I love you, sure; but I love the idea of not loving you more. Now is the time for me to make myself the priority. Now is the time for me to be selfish and ego-centric and self-centered. I need to do what I want, feel how I want, eat and drink what I want, go where I want, and just be who I want to be. I am the captain of my own ship, and now it’s time for me to deal.

Oh, captain, let's make a deal

Where we both say the things that we both really feel

I feel scared and I'm starting to sink

And I only sink deeper the deeper I think

Oh, captain, make up your mind

Before the salt burns your eyes and you run out of time

'Cause you're popping the cork, you get lost in your brain

And you lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane

Oh, captain, Oh, captain, deal, Oh, captain, deal, Oh woah~

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

Ship In A Bottle, by Steffan Argus

My Priority: Don’t Drown, by Vann Fenrirs Volchitsa

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