Interrogator: “Officer K-D-six-dash-three-dot-seven, let’s begin. Ready?”
K: “Yes, sir.”
Interrogator: “Recite your baseline.”
K: “And blood-black nothingness began to spin… A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem… And dreadfully distinct against the dark, a tall white fountain played.”
Interrogator: “Have you ever been in an institution? Cells.”
Interrogator: “Do they keep you in a cell? Cells.”
Interrogator: “When you’re not performing your duties do they keep you in a little box? Cells.”
Interrogator: “What’s it like to hold the hand of someone you love? Interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Did they teach you how to feel finger to finger? Interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Do you long for having your heart interlinked? Interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Do you dream about being interlinked… ?”
Interrogator: “What’s it like to hold your child in your arms? Interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Do you feel that there’s a part of you that’s missing? Interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Within cells interlinked.”
K: “Within cells interlinked.”
Interrogator: “Why don’t you say that three times: Within cells interlinked.”
K: “Within cells interlinked. Within cells interlinked. Within cells interlinked.”
Interrogator: “We’re done… Constant K, you can pick up your bonus.
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Request: Could you do a Harry x reader where they have a child around 4 or 5 and while the reader is at the store she leaves them with their kid and she comes back to Harry giving her/him a mini hook and tries to teach them to sword fight?
Warnings: Cute Daddy!Harry, lots and lots of cute Daddy!Harry
A/N: I love these sorts of fics omg I was hoping someone would request something like this! Thank you so much for requesting!
Harry Hook was a lot of things. He was psychotic. He was impulsive. He had a thirst for violence and he was well-known around the Isle for his explosive temper. He followed Uma like a puppy dog, but he was no follower. Despite all of this, he was a great boyfriend, even though others didn’t see it. You did, he just wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of boyfriends, to the point where the Harry the world saw was a cold and distant boyfriend.
So that’s why when word got around that you were pregnant with Harry Hook’s baby, the words ‘loving dad’ was not what came to mind. Most people were afraid that he’d end up hooking the kid in the middle of the night during a colic episode. It was either that or he’d just up and leave you to care for the baby yourself.
But the Isle once again got another surprise: Harry Hook was an amazing father. Upon you going into labor, while even you thought he’d be running around like a chicken with his head cut-off, he was calm and collected, having everything ready and planned out. He knew just what to say to calm you down in your labor, and after your son was born, he did everything he could to make your life just a little easier.
He did late night store runs. You both took turns to change diapers. He got you as many pillows as he could find on the Isle so when you nursed the baby you would be comfortable. He even saved up enough money to get a small house by the docks. “A ship is no place ta raise a baby! He could fall in the water! We’re moving. End of discussion.” He had said.
Overall: Harry Hook was a great dad. And your son absolutely adored his father, similar to the way that Harry adored his own dad. Just about every day your son begged to follow Harry to the ship, although you just weren’t comfortable with that yet since your son was still in that overly hyper stage and he didn’t think much of the dangers of being on a pirate ship.
“Aye, Henry, listen to ye mother. If she says no, that means no. Don’t ye argue with ‘er.” Harry would tell him, although he would never let your young son know that he agreed completely.
One day, you realized you needed to do your weekly grocery shopping, although you really didn’t want to bring Henry along with you. You loved your son, but even you had to admit that taking a four-year-old grocery shopping was a bad idea. “Harry, baby, will you watch Henry while I go shopping?” You asked, watching as Harry looked up from the television.
“Aye, sure, love. When do ye think ye’ll be back?” He asked.
You thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be honest. I won’t be too long though, I’ll be back in time to fix supper.” You said, smiling as Henry ran in from his room with an old toy that Gil had gotten him, Henry jumping onto the couch next to Harry. “Henry, mommy’s going shopping. I’ll be home soon, listen to your father.” You said, smiling and going to kiss his head.
“Bye mommy!” Henry said, kissing you on the cheek before you grabbed your things to head out. You had moved off the Isle about a year before, so you were now living in Auradon as a happy little family, which made life about a hundred times easier since you didn’t have to worry about getting robbed every time you close your eyes.
Not long after you left, Harry went and looked out the window to make sure you were gone before looking at your son. “Aye, I got a present for ye, lad.” Harry said, going into the bedroom you both shared, your son running after him.
“A present? For me? Really daddy?” Henry said as he followed Harry, going to sit on the bed as Harry went to dig in the closet.
“Aye, I did. But ye can’t tell yer mum about it. So this is going ta be our dirty little secret, alright Henry?” Harry said, looking back at Henry who nodded and pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key, Harry chuckling before getting a small box that was very poorly wrapped, going over to Henry and sitting down next to him. “I wanted to wait for yer birthday next month, but I figured now’s as good a time as ever,” Harry said, watching as the young child shook the box to figure out what it was.
“What is it?” Henry asked curiously. The young boy looked up at his father and watched as he motioned to the box to tell him to open it, finally tearing open the wrapping and opening the box that was inside, screaming with joy when he saw what it was. “A hook a hook! It’s like yours, daddy!” Henry said, grabbing it and bouncing up and down.
Harry laughed at the young boy’s excitement, reaching over and patting his back. “Calm down, son! Ye’ll poke an eye out and then yer mother will have me head on a stick!” Harry laughed, watching as he swung it around as any child would. “Careful with that. Now Henry, listen to me, son.” Harry said, making the child stop to look at him. “That isn’t a toy ta play with like ye other toys, son. Ye can’t just swing it around, ye can hurt yerself or someone else.” Harry told him.
“Then what can I do with it, daddy?” Little Henry asked as he looked up at his father.
“Well, as of right now ye can just carry it around like what daddy does with his hook. I just don’t want ye gettin’ hurt, son…so no running while you have it in ye hand, okay? When yer a little older then we’ll see.” Harry said, just wanting to let his son know that he could seriously get hurt with that if he didn’t go about it carefully.
Henry frowned, but gave a nod since he could tell his father was being serious. “Okay, daddy…” He said sadly, holding the hook in his hand and looking at it when Harry got an idea.
“But, with me bein’ a pirate, I suppose I do have ta teach ye how to sword fight,” Harry said, smiling as he looked at the boy before leading him out back to play with a couple plastic swords that they had gotten him so he could play with some of his friends.
The two of them got a little carried away, neither one of them noticing when [Y/N] arrived home from the store. “Harry?” You asked as you carried in armfuls of groceries, usually Harry being right there to help you unload the car. Upon hearing laughter from outside, you raised an eyebrow and looked out the back door, smiling some as you watched the two most important men in your life playing with plastic swords.
Henry struck a ‘blow’ to Harry’s chest, to which Harry pretended to grip at the wound. “Oh no! Ye got me! I’m dying! Tell me girl I love her!” Harry said, causing his voice to fade as he hit the ground and pretending to die, opening one eye when you started to laugh.
“I leave for one hour and you’re already killing each other?” You laughed, and Henry grinned as he ran over to you.
“Mommy mommy!” Henry yelled, smiling and hugging your neck when you picked him up. “Daddy got me a hook and taught me to sword fight!” Henry yelled.
“Henry! I said that the hook was a secret.” Harry said as he got off the floor.
“I’m not good at keeping secrets from mommy,” Henry explained, laying his head on your shoulder, to which you laughed and smoothed his dark brown hair.
“As long as you don’t hurt anyone, I don’t mind you having a hook.” You assured them both, smiling and looking at Harry. You really did have a perfect family.
Personality: quiet, observant, introvert, honest, kind if you put the effort.
Things about him: mostly blind from one eye. Deformation and irregular teeth. Loves clothes, will change around often. Great at training glaste blasters(base on the theory that they are like dogs)
Mostly focus on designing and creating weapons and armor like clothing. He can infuse clothes with charms. Like, defense up, attack up, and so on. He can’t summon without using magic enhancers. Weapon of choice, sniper riffle.
When my grandfather came home from World War II he had nightmares. He dreamed he was still fighting the Japanese, but in the trees behind our farmhouse. He was only 17 when he enlisted and had never been out of the county. Six weeks later in was in the middle of the wild blue Pacific on a destroyer in the Battle of Midway. He fought on through Okinawa and the dropping of the atomic bomb.
Years later, my father woke us up screaming. I ran into my parents’ room. My dad was twisted up in the bedsheets, on the floor, sobbing wildly like a lost child. He was gone by breakfast time. Mom said he was sick. That’s when she told us about Vietnam and how dad dreamed, just like his father had, of fighting the enemy in the woods behind our house. I remember walking in those trees later, clutching my BB gun. I eyed the old rusted farm equipment and wondered. We visited dad in the VA until he eventually came back home. Only to awaken us again and again.
I never had to go fight in a war. I went to college, moved to the city and got a decent job. A few years ago dad had a stroke and passed away. Last summer mom broke her hip and we moved her into an assisted living facility. We sold the farm so there was plenty of money to see that mom had her own little apartment and was well taken care of.
Before I left, I went back to the farm and buried my father’s and my grandfather’s guns in the grove. A few were probably worth some real money, but I wanted to put them to rest. I was tired of guns.
Burying them became a strange comforting ritual. There is a rhythm in digging a grave. I dug the hole deep and began to imagine and slipped into a dream. I was planting a new kind of crop for a new kind of world. We’d found an alien machine and used it the wrong way. The technology wasn’t for destruction and killing, but for creation. It was all one big mistake. It was well after midnight when I finally covered the hole and lay on top of it, exhausted. I was overcome as I looked up at the silent giant trees and imagined my father’s and grandfather’s fear and horror. It was so peaceful now. I hoped they’d found peace. And perhaps that something wild and new would grow.
The farm’s new owners cut down most of the trees. They built a giant orange storage facility for people to hoard all their excess junk in.
Last week mom fell again and had to have surgery on her hip. I drove out to the old farm. The house is still there but covered with shitty looking vinyl siding. There are two long rows of storage units. It looks like a factory farm. All but a small bunch of trees in the very back corner had been cut down.
I parked and walked around the back. There was a young mom with her child. She was trying unsuccessfully to squeeze a large cardboard box into her little Toyota while wrangling her 3 yr old. “Here, let me help,” I said and grabbed the box. The child made its escape into the underbrush of leftover trees.
“Jacob!” the mom yelled, chasing after him. I folded the flaps of the box and slid it snugly into the back seat.
“Oh put that down,” the woman said. I turned around. The child emerging from the bush, holding an odd large red flower. It was probably the wind but the petals seemed to flutter like wings and for a second I thought it was a bird trying to fly away.