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dandylovesturtles · 3 months

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I should be in bed lol but I wanted to write a turtle tot sick fic so here

I went into this with no plan and it ended up uh. way sadder than I intended. whoops.

cw: mentions of vomit

...

Blue slept through naptime. That should have been Splinter's first clue.

In the moment, he'd just been so happy to actually have four sleeping children that he'd taken the opportunity for his own nap, the old, tattered storybook he'd been reading them draped over his face. He never managed to get Blue to wind down enough to sleep, so he usually had to quietly entertain him with books or the tv on low until the others woke up. But his Baby Blue had conked out almost immediately today, and soon Splinter was snoozing right along with them.

Blue was also the last to wake up. That should have been the second clue.

Splinter was woken up by Orange, talking in loud, disjointed sentences with plenty of nonsense words as he played with an old plastic telephone Splinter had found them. Red was racing his toy cars, making his own sound effects as they skid across the floor and crashed into the wall. Only Purple was quiet, industriously sorting his legos by color and size.

Splinter sat up, letting the book slide off his face, and took stock. It was surprising to see Blue still curled up against his leg even in the midst of all the racket his brothers were making. "Blue?" he said softly, giving the little turtle a nudge. Blue blinked his eyes open, groggily looking around. "Naptime is over."

Blue pushed himself up into a sitting position, then rubbed clumsily at his eyes. He looked so tired still that Splinter debated telling him he could keep sleeping, even if it might make putting him to bed later more difficult.

But once Blue was up, he saw Red racing his cars and pushed quickly to his feet, hurrying over to join in the game. Almost immediately he was demanding Red hand over one of the cars and setting up an elaborate make-believe track for their race, so Splinter let it go.

Thirty minutes later, Blue tugged on Splinter's old sweatpants and said, "Daddy, my tummy hurts." In hindsight, this is exactly when Splinter should have put it together.

But the kids rarely got sick - a benefit of whatever Draxum had put in the gunk that turned them into this, Splinter assumed. Which was a blessing, because he was pretty limited in what medicine he could get in his condition. The boys having a hearty immune system was one of the few things Splinter had going for him.

So he hadn't moved to that conclusion. Instead he said, "Do you need to go potty?" and Blue had considered that very seriously for a few seconds before nodding and rushing off to the bathroom.

Orange threw the plastic phone into Purple's meticulously organized lego piles and Splinter moved on to the next crisis without another thought.

It was at dinner, when he caught Blue pushing his food (mac'n'cheese!) around without interest, that it finally clicked that maybe he should be worried.

"Blue, what's wrong?"

Blue didn't so much as look up. He shrugged, swirling his noodles around and around.

Splinter would be embarrassed to admit how long it took him to remember their earlier conversation, but it eventually came back to him. "Ah... Is your stomach still hurting?"

Blue's face scrunched up in misery, and he nodded.

Splinter groaned in exasperation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

"I mean after you went potty."

Blue grimaced. Instead of answering, he scooped up some mac'n'cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. He looked like he regretted it as soon as he'd done it.

"Do not spit that out," said Splinter immediately, because mac'n'cheese was one of the few things Purple would eat and if Blue spat it out in front of him it would go on his Bad Foods list for at least a month. And Orange had a habit of mimicking anything Blue did, which would only compound the problem.

Blue chewed and swallowed the mouthful agonizingly slowly. He looked so miserable afterward that Splinter felt bad about it.

"Are you going to throw up, Blue?" he asked, and got a furious head shake in response. "Are you just telling me that?" Another shake. "Do you want to keep eating?" A third shake. Splinter sighed and took his bowl from him. "Alright. I'll put this in the fridge, if you want it later."

Their mini-fridge was already stuffed full, but Splinter would simply have to make space, or throw all this mac'n'cheese out. He wished they had a bigger fridge, but just getting this back to the juncture in the sewers he called a home had been difficult enough.

He wished he had a bigger fridge. He wished he had a house. He wished he had a pediatrician to take Blue to. He wished he wasn't a rat man. He wished he and his kids were... normal.

It was a bad thought. He knew that as soon as he thought it, and he tried to push it down. The kids didn't need to know they weren't normal. That none of this was normal. He knew that, but...

"Throw up?" he heard Purple say, and then the telltale sound of him pushing his bowl away. Mac'n'cheese was on the Bad Foods list. Splinter groaned.

...

He found their old thermometer after the boys were finished eating. Getting a temperature from Blue was near impossible because he moved it around too much or spat it out before time was up, but Splinter would have to do his best.

After three tries, he got a reading that seemed accurate enough. Blue's body ran colder than a human child's, and it had taken observation and trial and error for Splinter to learn what constituted as a fever. As it was, Blue was only two degrees above his normal. So at least that wasn't too worrying.

He was still complaining that his stomach hurt, though. A stomach bug, then? Or just something he ate? Usually Red was the one who would put random things in his mouth unless Splinter kept a careful watch, but Blue and Orange were... adventurous eaters, too. It was possible.

They continued with their normal bedtime routine. Another thing Splinter had going for him was that his boys loved baths; getting them into their makeshift tub, even with lukewarm water, was always easy. From his research, Red, Blue, and Purple were all aquatic turtles, and Orange was not one to be left out of his brothers’ games no matter his biology.

Blue wasn't excited for bath time tonight, though. He sat quietly in the tub, making grumpy noises anytime he got splashed and playing only with his favorite blue shark toy, ignoring everything else. He definitely felt bad. Splinter was feeling increasingly terrible that he hadn't noticed.

He got them all toweled off and into their pajamas. Then into the pallet beds he had for them, all in one big shared alcove, a tattered curtain strung up for a semblance of privacy. They would need something more as they got older, but for now the boys seemed content to share space.

He tucked Red, Purple, and Orange in, then turned his attention to Blue. He had found an old bucket earlier that he (theoretically) used for mopping, and this he presented to Blue.

"If you are going to throw up, please do it in this," he told Blue. "We don't have any spare sheets."

"Not gonna," said Blue grumpily, pushing the bucket away.

"Ewww," whined Purple. "I don't want to share with Leo if he throws up."

"Not gonna!" Blue insisted, glaring at Purple, who glared back. Splinter sighed and pushed the bucket at Blue again.

"I am serious, Leonardo," he said, and that got Blue's attention. "If you throw up, do it in this bucket."

Instead of answering, Blue rolled over and scrunched himself up in a ball. That was the best Splinter was going to get, he supposed, so he just sighed and put the bucket next to Blue's bed.

"Good night, boys," he said as he got to his feet, ignoring the crackles from his back and knees.

"Good niiiight," came three echoes. Blue was giving him the silent treatment. Alright.

He went back to his own bed, sectioned off by an old divider screen he'd managed to find. Hopefully they could at least get through the night without disaster striking.

...

According to his beat up alarm clock, it was only two hours later when Red showed up by his bedside, shaking him awake urgently.

Splinter groaned his way into consciousness, blinking groggy eyes until his eldest son came into focus.

"Leo threw up," came Red's predictable report.

Splinter sighed, pushing his sheets aside and rising from his futon. "Did he make it in the bucket?"

Red's expression was not encouraging.

...

He had not made it in the bucket.

Blue sat stock still in the puddle of his own sick, eyes teary and expression a mix between stunned and embarrassed. Purple was pressed as close to the opposite wall as he could get, hands pressed tight over his nose and mouth. Orange was at Blue's side, patting his arm with his chubby little hand.

"Blue," Splinter snapped as soon as he saw the mess. "Why didn't you throw up in the bucket!?"

"Didn't think I was gonna," Blue croaked.

"Well, you did. All over your sheets." Splinter ran his hands over his tired eyes. "Now you have nothing for tonight. And who knows if I'll even be able to get the stain out. I may have to go all the way to the surface to get new ones, and do you know what a hassle that is!? The bucket was right here, Blue!"

"I'm sorry."

The miserable hiccup in Blue's voice effectively stopped Splinter's tirade, and he refocused on his son. Blue's tears had spilled over, streaking down his miserable face. He was shivering, hands clutching the fabric of his ruined sheets, wringing them tight. He looked terrified.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Something inside Splinter cracked.

Leo was only four, by his best guess. He was a baby, still. A sick baby, and Splinter was yelling at him about... about bed sheets?

Blue didn't know that Splinter would have to steal him new sheets. He didn't know that Splinter feared every time he did something so risky, that it might expose their tiny family to hostile forces - the human authorities, Big Mama's goons, Draxum's gargoyles. He didn't know that Splinter should be taking him to a doctor right now. He didn't know that sleeping on a pallet bed in the sewers wasn't normal.

He just knew that he had thrown up, and his dad was mad about it.

Immediately, Splinter stooped and scooped the still-apologizing Blue into his arms. He was getting bigger all the time, and, somehow, Splinter was getting smaller, but he could still hold his boys in his arms, still cradle them against his chest.

"Blue... Leo, listen to me."

"I'm sorry," Blue mumbled again, followed by a sad, wet hiccup.

"Shh, shh, no, my son, please listen." He waited until teary eyes were turned on him to continue. "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

"Missed the bucket," said Blue, and Splinter shook his head.

"That's alright. You're sick. It is my job to take care of these things." He scratched at the back of Blue's shell with the arm holding him, something he knew always calmed Blue down. Sure enough, he felt his boy begin to relax. "Do not worry about the sheets. If Daddy needs to get more, he will. For now we will all share."

Blue sniffed, and buried his face in Splinter's chest. That was a good sign. Splinter kept up the scraching.

"I'm sorry I yelled. You aren't in trouble, Blue. You're alright."

Blue sniffled again. Hiccupped one last time. His tears were drying up, and his little voice said, "S'okay, Daddy."

"Oh, my Baby Blue... Thank you."

He still felt terrible as he lowered Leo back to his bed and started to strip away the soiled sheets, but Leo had calmed down considerably. He kept the bucket close, though, even as he laid back down again on his pillow.

"Leo can have my blanket," said Red, already pulling the old thing over. Splinter smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, Red. Blue, do you think you will throw up again?"

Blue shrugged. "Dunno."

"That's alright. It's okay if you do." Splinter smoothed the blanket over Blue, not tucking him in so he could move if he needed to. "I'll get this sheet washed out and be back, alright?"

Blue nodded. He was still gripping the bucket with one hand. Splinter rubbed his head, then stood up with his bundle of soiled sheets.

When he returned, with water for Blue, he'd thrown up again - in the bucket, this time. Orange was still by him, rubbing his arm, while Red sat behind him, supporting his back. Even Purple had come close, awkwardly patting at Blue's leg while pointedly avoiding looking at the bucket.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Blue," he told them, getting three beaming smiles in return.

They were all going to have the bug by tomorrow. Splinter would need to find more buckets.

#rottmnt #rise splinter #rise leo #dandy fanfiction #idk what this is lol #thinking about the early years gets me ok

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thesunmeltedthegrayaway · 2 years

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Hi!! If you wouldn’t mind I’d like to request prompt 16 with Darry. Thanks! <3

Prompt: Late night babbles

~~~

It was dead silent, something that was completely unusual for a house like this. It hadn’t been more than half an hour before the gang was conked out. The adrenaline rush they had gotten from the rumble completely wore them out. Johnny and Two-bit were so out of it they couldn’t even make it off the floor before they fell asleep.

You were still up, the nerves and worry you felt from before kept you wide awake much to your dismay. It happened every time a rumble took place. though you felt like you should’ve been use to them by now, you felt just as you did the first time you waited for everyone to come back from one.

It’d be a feeling you’d feel you’d never fully be able to shake off...

“Look at em all.” Darry muttered, carefully stepping over Johnny to sit next to me on the couch. “Can’t believe they passed out like that.”

“I can, surprised you aren’t falling asleep yet.” You said. “You look like you got pretty roughed up.” You added, carefully gliding your thumb across a nasty looking bruise on his cheekbone.

“Aw I’m fine.” He reassured you, grabbing a hold of your hand gently. “I am surprised that I got bit though.” He said, looking down at the back of his hand.

“I mean, if someone who looks like you tried to fight me I’d probably bite them too.” You replied humorously making Darry laugh, you could only smile slightly at his response.

Darry could tell you seemed to be a bit less... enthusiastic like you usually are. Not to mention, every smile or laugh you’d let out after everyone had gotten back seemed pretty forced.

“You alright over there?” He asked softly.

I nodded. “I’m okay I just feel kinda on edge still.”

“You don’t gotta worry anymore... we’re all fine.”

You that what he was saying was true. Sure, some of them had little injuries here and there. But they were here, safe... You thought you shouldn’t feel so worked up still, but you did.

“I can’t help but worry when it comes to you guys.” You replied. “And I know you’re like double everyone else’s size there but you could still... well, you know.”

You felt Darry drape an arm around you before pulling you close to him. He gave you a quick kiss on the head in hopes of comforting you. “I know... thank you for caring about me so much.” He said appreciatively.

You leaned back, wanting to get a good look at his face. “How can I not? I love you too much not to.”

He gave you a smile, fondness filled his icy blue eyes as he looked down at you. “Love you too.” He muttered sweetly before giving you a quick kiss.

You cupped his face as you pulled away, grazing one of your thumbs against another bruise and cut on his jaw. “Look at what they did to your handsome face.” You said, biting back a smile as you felt his cheeks heat up bashfully.

“Y/N...” He replied feebly, averting his gaze from your eyes temporarily.

“What? It’s true... you are.” You teased, chuckling slightly as he began to smirk. “You are absolutely handsome.”

“Oh just hush up and kiss me again.” He mumbled making you laugh again.

“I gladly will...”

~~~

If anyone would like to make a request of their own, check out this list for all the prompts I'm doing!

I am sorry this came out so late, hope you enjoy it!

I had a bit of writers block here... ended up re-writing this 3 times lol... I don’t know why I struggled with this one.

#darrel curtis #darrel curtis x reader #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x y/n #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders oneshot #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis imagine

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moonshinemusings · 1 year

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General John "Soap" MacTavish headcanons (Pt.1)

Warnings: slight mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of PTSD, anxiety and sensory issues

A/N: My head is full with so many dumb ideas but I kept it mostly serious here lol

• He flirts with everyone when he's drunk, and yes, that includes his teammates (once Price wanted to count how many times he hit on Ghost during the night, but eventually gave up)

• His favorite color is green

• Would totally own a motorcycle that he takes good care of. He has a knack for mechanical stuff and often repairs vehicles they use on missions

• Has a sweet tooth and others often tease him about it. If they let him, he could probably eat a whole cake by himself (and whine how bad his stomach hurts afterwards)

• Most of the time he's dealing well and he keeps himself together, but sometimes his emotions break through the surface. He rarely cries, but when a wave of PTSD or lethargy hits him, the tears flow without resistance. He powers through his emotions though, and he knows his teammates are always there to support him if he needs them

• His anxiety isn't as bad as some others, but from time to time he struggles with staying calm and rational. These incidents usually happen when he overthinks missions or panics when someone gets injured, but someone is always there to help him calm down

• Most likely he has some sensory issues too, but only with very specific things that he fortunately doesn't often counter every day

• Often takes pictures while working out. Mirror selfies are his go-to, but videos of him doing push ups or lifting weights is also in order

• He was never that good at school, that's partly why he chose to serve in the military

• His music taste is really inconsistent. He listens to rock most of the time, but then he suddenly switches to pop songs and country out of nowhere. The worst part? He knows a bunch of country songs and will sing along loudly. Ghost thinks it's atrocious, especially with his accent

• Hug lover, an enthusiast if you will. He's a touchy-feely guy to begin with, but he loves hugs more than any other kind of touching (bet he has the warmest and most comfy ones)

• He's afraid of spiders. He likes to say he's not afraid of mundane things like animals, but spiders send shivers down his spine (once Price had to take one out from his bag because he was too afraid to touch it. No, they don't talk about it.)

• In his younger years he experimented with different hairstyles and colors. For a while he rocked a mullet, then came the idea of the mohawk that stayed ever since. He's had green, red and blue hair once, but never kept them longer than a few weeks

• As much as he acts like it annoys him, he likes dad jokes and those really bad ones Ghost usually comes up with

• No musical talent whatsoever, but that won't stop him from singing when he's drunk or when his favourite songs come up

• Has thought about getting more tattoos, but couldn't decide what to ask for so he never got them

• His favourite meal of the day is breakfast. Don't know why, don't ask, I just feel like he would be a breakfast "I stuff my face with calories in the morning" type of guy

• A morning bird, which used to annoy the shit out of Ghost because he was too cheery for someone who was awake at like 5 AM

• He's a deep sleeper, once he's safe and asleep even a bomb won't wake him up. He can fall asleep anywhere too. Once he conked out on the plane on the way to a checkpoint and Ghost has never let him live it down ever since

• We know that he used to play football, but he was also good at every other sport (except maybe gymnastics). He loved basketball, but he was always teased about being too short to reach the nets. That didn't stop him from scoring though

• He used to go to a lot of concerts with his friends. He's totally the type of guy to have a girl on his shoulders so she can see better

• He's not a womanizer by any means; he's only ever had one serious relationship and that didn't last too long either. He had a few one night stands, but he doesn't really seek any relations outside of his work related ones

• As a kid he used to have those sticky glow in the dark stars on his ceiling/wall

• He can't keep plants alive for the life of him

• His favourite season is spring because he's not too cold but not too hot either. The weather is perfect for his morning jogs

• He might seem egotistical sometimes, but in reality he just loves basking in the attention he gets. And he knows he looks good, so why wouldn't he talk about it

• It's not easy to rile him up and he's good at keeping his cool, but when he's frustrated or downright angry you better hope he doesn't attempt to fix the situation with fists instead of words

• Others might tease him for being stupid sometimes, but he's actually smart. Not academically smart, but street-smart if you know what I'm talking about

• In the future, he wants to have children of his own. In the present he focuses on his job and takes it very seriously, since it's the most important in his life next to his family. But he doesn't shy away from the thoughts of retiring and settling down with his children and a wife

• He enjoys cartoons in some situations. He knows they are dumb and not even funny, but after difficult missions he likes to have them as a background noise or something that can take his mind off the things that happened

• He has two older sisters, so has a lot of experience living with women. Once they waxed his arms as a joke, but he kind of liked it. They settled on an agreement after that: whenever they were all home and had the time, they would do it for him again if he wanted

• Also, because of that his room is also one of the cleanest out of everyone. He keeps everything organized and tidy, and doesn't like when his stuff is out of order

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #modern warfare2 #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #headcanons #soap headcanons #john mactavish headcanons

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dollfairy · 8 months

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seeing the number of people complaining about missing out on the Little Gifts cover and saying they didn't really like any of the others this year, I think my feelings about this year's lineup being underwhelming might be right

like the fact that my backup plan if I didn't get Little Gifts was a solid colour cover from last year (cactus flower) bc even the solid colours this year-- walmart-boys-clothes orange and blue, pink w a kinda gross brown, conk creet grey -- sucked.

and like, I know one p*ece is popular for some reason, but do we really need two years of collab covers w it?? such a big proportion of the lineup was either one p*ece or mother lol

the artist collabs were okay, though obv the one I got is the star design of the year. the fabric ones could've used more variety, rather than all being a selection of blurry/muddy pastel florals and mismatched collages. the bow + tie series is always good, though I'm not a weeks user and they'll never top the retro cafe design from last year.

I did like the blue-green leather cover, but it's 150$ for just the cover and that's a bit too rich for my blood (and for how much wear and tear my hobonichi goes through)

all in all kind of a flop year, given that most years I'm torn between multiple cover designs

#personal

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auphaniim · 2 years

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break from adventure

#blue is just conked out lol #red my sweet flower child #this whole thing took me 15 hours dont let it flop or ill cry #pls #my art #loz #tloz #four swords #the legend of zelda #four swords adventures #artists on tumblr #link fanart #blue link #vio link #red link #green link #shadow link

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capricioussun · 2 years

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Hello! For the character headcanons - Just basic Paps (and Sans if you're feeling fancy), is he a quiet or fitful sleeper?

Hello my friend who is so good at using tumblr =^)

Sans sleeps like the dead absolutely. When he’s actually sleeping, he doesn’t move, he’s out like a sack of potatoes. Can be moved or oriented to a better position and still stay conked out lol

Papyrus on the other hand

He’s not a deep sleeper usually, so he tends to move and reposition a lot. Mumbles, snores a little, and can pull some pretty wacky positions. Sometimes he wakes up and can’t get back to sleep, but every once in a blue moon, he pulls a Sans once he finds the right position and knocks out pretty hard. Though that’s pretty rare, and doesn’t usually last long…

#undertale sans #undertale papyrus #undertale #sun spots #I was feeling fancy thank you #thegrimalkin #papyrus #sans #ut rus #ut sans

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averykedavra · 4 years

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Are We There Yet

Hey look it’s losleep that might be *knocks on wood* actually somewhat short? I’m doing these prompts way out of order because I’ve accepted that I won’t finish them so I’m just doing the ones that call my name.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! You can find this fic on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. 

Pairing: QPR Losleep.

Words: 6856

Warnings: self-deprecation, food mention, arson mention, death mention, sleep deprivation, minor injury, swearing, hypothermia kind of, and this whole thing could be read as a metaphor for touch starvation

Remy is not clingy.

Okay? Okay.

He doesn’t need anybody. Sure, it’s nice when Logan holds his hand, pretty cool when Logan kisses his cheek, but if no? Remy’s fine with that. He made it like twenty-something years without the boi, after all. Besides, physical affection is ew. He only puts up with it ‘cause Logan likes it.

And if sometimes he flops into Logan’s lap and whines about work until Logan plays with his hair, that’s to annoy his babe. Not because he likes it.

And if he always sticks close to Logan? It’s because Logan drives the cold away.

Which is also not a problem. Remy likes being cold. He’s a frozen dream-come-true, a cool and collected boi, a chill and fabulous being. He’s got his jacket if things get too bad.

Besides, again, he made it twenty years without warmth.

(Twenty pretty fucking terrible years, if he’s honest, but just because he’s half-delirious sometimes from the feeling of being warm doesn’t mean he needs to be desperate about it.)

He’s not desperate. He’s not clingy. He does what he wants and his stupid partner doesn’t control him.

Remy’s not clingy, and Logan’s going away this week, and it’s fine.

“I’ll be back soon,” Logan promises for the fifth time. “You can call me if you need anything, and there’s extra groceries in the fridge, and the keys are by the door--”

“Babe, I’ll be fine.” Remy rolls his eyes. “Tbh, I think you’re more nervous about this than I am.”

“I’m not nervous,” Logan argues, although the way his eyes flicker around says otherwise. “Remember to turn off the stove, and--”

“Darling.” Remy gives Logan a kiss on the nose and enjoys the way Logan flushes and wrinkles his nose. One year of being partners and Logan still stammers under affection. Clearly, Remy needs to give him more.

(It’s just for the reaction, though. It’d be fine if Logan didn’t want kisses. Remy wouldn't sulk.)

“Starlight,” Remy says, placing another kiss on Logan’s cheek for good measure, “my good bitch, I’m capable of managing one week without burning the house down.”

“I know, I know.” Logan gives him a small smile. “I’m just--I wish you could come with me.”

“Plane tickets are fucking expensive,” Remy says, “and I’d rather go broke buying espresso than flying in some tin death trap, ‘kay? Go do your conference thing. It’ll be fine--I’ll hold down the fort.”

Logan frowns. “What fort?”

“Expression, honey.” Remy gives Logan one more kiss because he can’t help himself (but he’ll be fine without these for a week, of course.) “Good luck, show those assholes what you’re made of.”

“They’re hardly assholes.” Logan touches his forehead to Remy’s and Remy does his best not to melt in the warmth. “You’ll really be okay without me?”

“Of course,” Remy says, grinning. “My life will go on without you. I’m not that clingy.”

Something flashes over Logan’s face, but it’s gone before Remy can parse it. Logan gives him a final kiss and grabs his suitcases, pulling on a blazer that makes him look fucking stunning, in Remy’s opinion. Goddammit. Logan’s wasting his hella fine looks on some conference assholes when he could be here with Remy, sipping coffee and making fun of every episode of Gilmore Girls.

Well. What the hell does Remy care? He really does get that Logan needs to go to that conference, since Mr. Serious Professor is the only real income-giver in the household. Remy’s just a layabout who pays meager rent only on months when the coffee shop doesn’t fully fail.

He has no idea why Logan chose Remy, of all people, because he figured professor-types ought to stick together.

(He knows why. They’re soulmates. Without each other, they’re cold as ice, and tbh, Remy gets it. Logan would rather be with a mess than freezing to death. Fair enough. Still, it hurts, knowing you could be replaced with a fucking space heater.)

Logan gives Remy a little wave, and Remy gives him a cocky smile in return, adjusting his sunglasses and already planning the five-shot espresso he’s gonna use to drown his feelings.

Just one week.

This is gonna be fine.

Remy circles the end of the week on his calendar, once, twice, three times. Just so he’s not surprised. Sometimes time slips away around him and he’d like to be clothed when his partner shows up again.

He spends the rest of the evening watching TV. He heats up some macaroni, burns his tongue on it, and eats two brownies because why the hell not? It’s only like nine when he’s done, but the apartment is eerily empty. Logan’s usually busy with grading these evenings, face lit by his laptop, and Remy teases him and passes him some coffee and pulls him to bed when he’s really wrapped up.

Remy runs his hand idly over the spot where Logan usually sits.

Ugh. This is setting him on edge. He doesn’t like empty places and he has the urge to yell just to fill up the pockets of silence.

Remy makes himself one coffee. He shouldn’t. If Logan were here, he’d chide Remy and say Remy needs to sleep soon. Remy dangles his coffee mug in midair but Logan doesn’t catch it. ‘Cause Logan’s not here.

Duh, Remy, what’d you expect?

Remy chugs the coffee, tosses the mug in the sink, and tells himself he’ll clean it tomorrow.

He curls up in bed and stays on his phone until midnight. As the night wears on, he grows colder and colder. He pictures Logan flying on a plane to somewhere else, maybe sleeping with some stupid sleep mask on, his hair all messy and his glasses in his hands.

Remy’s phone vibrates.

If you’re still up, go to sleep.

Logan signs the text with a blue heart. He always does. Remy has done his goddamn best to teach Logan how emojis actually work, but Logan insists that words are “a highly more productive and lucid way of communicating.”

He always adds a heart though. Says it’s a quick way to remind Remy that he loves him.

Logan’s such a fucking sap sometimes.

(Remy ignores the fact that he’s smiling at his phone like it’s his firstborn child.)

lol hypocrite smh, he decides to write back.

I, at least, have the excuse of jet lag. Get some sleep, dear, we can talk tomorrow.

Remy sighs and doesn’t ask him to stay. He really is tired. And he’s not desperate.

He tosses his phone onto the nightstand and pulls his blankets up to his shoulders.

He’s cold.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he wakes up and he’s still cold. Damn, the universe is a bitch.

Rubbing his arms and swearing, Remy stumbles into the kitchen and fumbles for the espresso machine. He tosses a good morning behind him and then remembers Logan’s not here. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes himself.

He’s not gonna think about Logan right now.

Besides, Remy could use this alone time! Right? He’s always complained about Logan getting in his personal space.

(It’s a joke. It’s a joke and Logan always sees right through it, and Remy hates it.)

Remy nods to himself. He gets dressed in his usual jacket and pulls it tighter around him, as if clothes can get rid of the cold in his chest.

He takes a sip of coffee, pulls on his sunglasses, and gets ready to face the day.

His first shift goes okay. A bunch of couples come in, giggling and blushing, and Remy can tell the newest ones from the way they cling to each other’s arms. He fucking hates the universe sometimes. Depending on how sensitive a soul is, the cold can mess with people good. Some people never find their soulmate and freeze inside and out, unable to fix it, suffering from a cold that physically doesn’t exist. It’s all in their head, or their soul, to be sentimental about it.

Soulmates are bullshit if they hurt someone for not being there enough.

And being forced to be with someone...there are problems. Remy’s heard the stories. Seen the tears. Soulmates might be “made for each other” but sometimes shit happens, and the problem is nobody can leave that mess, because soulmates and because going from warm to cold is terrifying.

(Even for the relationships that work out--like Remy’s--there’s always the undercurrent of doubt. That it’s all about the temperature, the destiny, the expectations. And not about real love. Remy tries not to think about that.)

Still, watching the younger couples trade coffees and smile, Remy gets why everyone falls in love with the idea.

He spends his lunch break staring at his phone and hoping Logan will text him. Logan’s probably asleep--time zones, right? Plus the babe always gets conked out after plane rides.

Remy could text Logan, just to know. But it hasn’t been a day yet. He’s not gonna be needy.

He does his second shift, downs two espressos, and pretends the caffeine rush eclipses the cold settling into his bones.

He only grabbed a bun for lunch, so for dinner he cooks up some chicken. Then he watches more TV. Without realizing it, he grabs several blankets and pulls them around himself until he’s a blanket burrito. It’s warm. He almost falls asleep right there but manages to drag himself to bed, because an annoying voice in the back of his brain told him Logan would be mad if Remy stayed on the couch all night.

What does it matter, though? Logan isn’t here.

Remy still goes to bed.

He piles a quilt on top of his shoulders. The weight drowns him and he drifts off to sleep.

He only wakes up once.

Logan is texting him. Remy fumbles for the phone, ridiculously excited.

I hope you are well. Talk to you tomorrow morning, if you are willing.

Remy swallows and texts back sure.

Too quick? Too desperate? Nah, Logan likes punctuality, and anyway, it says he hasn’t read the text. He probably sent it, turned his phone off, and went to sleep. Logan’s responsible like that.

Remy watches his phone for a few more seconds, sighs, and turns it over. It takes a while for him to go back to sleep.

Day two and day three are a blur. He crosses the days off on the calendar, resolving to burn it before Logan sees. He’s run out of espresso so he makes a quick trip to the grocery store. They’ve turned the air conditioning on, even though it’s fall. Remy shivers his way through the aisles. He buys Logan’s favorite ice cream without thinking and sticks it in the back of the freezer. He’ll be here in four days, after all.

Remy bites his lip, pulls on his jacket, and goes back outside.

He goes to Logan’s favorite bookshop. The door tinkles when he opens it. At least this place isn’t air conditioned, though Remy still shivers, remembering all the afternoons when Logan dragged him here. He heads for the astronomy books and runs his fingers down the shelves. He has no idea what book to get. Logan’s the smart one. Remy’s just the bitch.

He buys a few books. They have space on the cover so Remy figures Logan’ll tolerate them. It costs like twice his week’s paycheck. Remy tries not to be salty about it. It’s not like Logan’s forcing him to buy this stuff. He did it himself.

Why, he’s not sure.

It’s only when he’s walking home with a bag of books and swilling the dregs of his coffee around when he realizes he’s gonna have to find a why. He’ll have to explain to Logan why he impulse-brought the babe some books. And he’ll have to make it somehow sound not-pathetic.

Well, that’s a problem for Future Remy.

Present Remy sticks the books in a closet--is that where books go? He usually just reads cafe menus--and cooks up some fried rice for dinner. All boxed, of course. It tastes like crap. He wonders if he should buy takeout tomorrow, but he just spent a bunch of money on fucking books, so maybe not.

He takes the books back out of the closet. He slips them into place on Logan’s shelves. They’re probably out of order. Logan has a wack organization system. But they look at home on the shelf, and none of the titles seem to be repeats, so that’s cool.

Remy takes a deep breath. They smell like paper, duh. Paper and leather and Logan, just a bit. Or maybe Logan smells like books.

Okay, now that’s pathetic. Remy backs away from the bookshelf. Why’d he even buy those stupid things?

(Because he can imagine Logan did. Because that bookstore reminded him of Logan and he feels like he could summon Logan with his favorite things. Like Logan is a demon or something. Well, tbh, he is a demon if his ability to recite the periodic table is any indication. Also, demons are pretty. And Logan is unfairly pretty, with fluffy hair and dark eyes and a little scar on his cheek and a dip in his chin.)

Remy sighs and watches a bit of TV. He turns it off soon enough because the words slip through his brain and leave no trace behind. Then he grabs the vacuum and turns it up.

He never vacuums. Logan does the cleaning and the cooking. Remy does the...lounging about? And the complaining. Logan also fixes anything that’s broken. Remy--well, maybe he does the errands? He does the errands. It’s not much, though, and it suddenly hits him how much Logan does every day. He’s got a full-time job teaching some college babies how to spell, and he still cooks dinner every night.

Remy narrows his eyes, rolls up his sleeves, and vacuums.

It’s loud. Plus he can’t remember which attachment goes on the carpet and which on the floor. So he might be doing more damage than help here. But fuck it.

When he’s done, he shoves the vacuum back into the closet. Then he grabs the laundry basket and does the laundry. He gets detergent on his jacket, which is not cool, and then he has to fold the fucking laundry. Remy looks up how to fold stuff. He’s pretty sure he’s made everything wrinkly, and some of the clothes didn’t fit in the drawer so he had to smush them.

As an apology, he washes the sink. It’s not bad. Then he washes the mirror--not bad--and the bathtub--worse--and the toilet--hell on earth. By the end of it, he feels like every bit of slime and muck has been transported onto his skin.

He takes a warm shower. He keeps turning the heat up because he forgets the cold inside doesn’t match his actual temperature, and he can’t help it because for a second, it’s like he’s actually warm.

The air is freezing when he steps out. He wraps himself in three towels, stumbles into his bedroom, and throws on two pajama shirts and some extra-fluffy socks. He feels like shit. He has no idea how Logan manages to do all this stuff.

His phone vibrates as he’s collapsing into bed.

If I’m not disturbing you, would you like to talk?

Remy snorts to cover up his huge smile.

hey babe

Greetings. how was your day?

p cool.

Remy pauses before adding: did some chores.

Really? That wasn’t necessary.

im still in this apartment so ye, it was.

That reminds me. Are the groceries running out?

Something twitches in Remy’s stomach. He doesn’t know why. What, did he expect Logan to comment? To thank him? To come flying back home because Remy cleaned the sink?

(Yes. Maybe. Hopefully. It isn’t about Logan’s approval--except it is. Remy wants to know he’s not a screwup. That he did something right. That Logan can ease up because Remy can help out more. And maybe it would make the cold in his chest go away, just a bit.)

Remy sighs.

course not. it’s been like three days

I was just checking. What are you having for lunch?

already had it. it’s like midnight over here

Oh. Apologies. I’ll let you get some sleep.

Remy could say no. He could say stay with me. He could say nah, I’m bored, let’s chat.

He’s not clingy, though.

night babe

Goodnight.

Remy doesn’t even bother putting his phone away. He plugs it in and holds it next to him. It’s warm. And with the many blankets piled up on top of him, he can almost pretend Logan’s there, a fire that sears him inside and out.

He barely sleeps.

Day four is rainy. Remy usually asks Logan to drive him to work, so today he dashes down the sidewalk with an umbrella and curses wildly every time a drop of rain lands on his jacket. All the customers leave puddles on the floor. Remy has to mop them up.

He’s pissed. Pissed at nothing in particular, pissed at the customers who are all a little bit rude, pissed at the cold rattling in his chest.

(He’s more than halfway through the week and he’s barely managed to get this far. Pathetic.)

He chugs coffee right from the pot. It’s blistering hot and he can feel it trickle through him. He’s burning warm now and yet so, so cold. He bets he could burn to death and still feel freezing.

Goddammit.

Fucking soulmates.

Remy is cold. Remy is annoyed. Remy would like very much to go home.

And he gets his wish--because he slips on a puddle by the front door and his ankle skews out in a direction ankles should not go.

He’d try to stay and do his job, but his manager insists he should go home. He asks Remy if anyone’s picking him up. Remy shakes his head.

Remy should stick it out and get paid. Instead, he limps home.

His ankle isn’t swollen much, but it hurts like fuck to walk on, so he props it up on a table and watches TV. Maybe he should be doing more. He just got the afternoon off, after all. But he doesn’t fucking feel like it. So Logan can fight him.

Logan’s not here to fight him.

Ugh. Fuck Logan. Fuck soulmates. Fuck Remy’s stupid twisted ankle. Everything hurts and he wants to commit arson.

Maybe that’d warm him up.

He stays up most of the night. Logan doesn’t text him, or maybe he does and Remy doesn’t hear it over the TV. He doesn’t check. Fuck Logan. Fuck everything in the whole fucking world.

By the time it’s three in the morning, his ankle is still throbbing and he’s about to punch something.

He groans and burrows deeper into his mass of blankets. He’s still really, really cold. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking sensitive--some people feel the temperature super acutely, and Remy’s one of them. Usually he likes being acute, or, more accurately, a-cute piece of ass. This, though? This fucking blows.

Remy drifts in and out of a doze for the rest of the night. He dreams he’s sinking into a frozen lake and nobody’s there to help. He wakes up to the credits playing and his ankle sparkling with hot pain.

Hot pain that he almost doesn’t mind at this point, since it’s a respite from the cold.

Fucking soulmates.

Remy hopes Logan never comes back. He’ll just freeze to death sad and alone and that’d serve Logan right.

(He doesn’t mean that. He never does. Logan would probably be sad if Remy died. And Remy likes being alive. He’s just...he’s just unraveling right now, a snarled mess of red-hot wire in his head, burning his thoughts but never warming the rest of him.)

Remy pulls a pillow out of his head.

He feels like shit, everything’s on fire except cold, and morning is a long way away.

When morning comes, he calls in sick. Because he still feels like shit. Except the special kind of shit he always feels like after pulling an all-nighter. His back is stiff and his ankle throbs dully and his eyes itch. The TV stayed on all night. Remy wonders if that contributes to the electricity bill--Logan always handles that kind of thing.

Logan always handles everything.

Can Logan handle Remy? Well, so far, he’s done alright.

Remy’s hard to handle sometimes, though.

Like now. He’s pretty sure if Logan saw him right now, he’d finally give up on the idea of soulmates.

Remy eats some chips for breakfast, binges a few shows, and eats more chips for lunch. He’s still hungry. Apparently chips aren’t that filling. Bullshit. Chips should count as food.

He nods off mid-afternoon and sleeps through dinner. His stomach is growling when he wakes up. He barely notices, though. It’s the cold that he really feels. It’s like he woke up made of ice, and any movement will shatter his joints and send him crashing to the ground in a pile of frozen splinters.

Dramatic? Yes. Justified? Also yes.

He feels like he’s on fucking fire. Except it’s cold instead of warm and there’s no way to put the fire out.

It’s supposed to be just the chest, but it feels like his whole body. From the tips of his toes to his hair follicles to his eyelashes to his chipped nails. Every blood vessel in his body is frozen, every patch of skin is icy, and when he blinks, he’s surprised no frost comes off of his eyelids.

Fuck, it hurts.

Why does he have to be so sensitive? Why can’t he last one week without his soulmate? Why did the universe look at Remy and decide hey, that’s the bitch we should saddle with super fucking sensitivity to this soulmate shit, so he becomes a clingy bitch and drags everyone else down with him?

Remy works his way into a sitting position and grabs for his phone. An unanswered text from Logan lights up.

How are you doing?

I’m chilling, Remy writes back.

Which is technically true.

(And besides, no need to worry Logan. He can’t do anything about the situation right now, so whining about it would only make Remy look like a mess. Besides, Logan would probably be annoyed--annoyed that his soulmate can’t handle it, that his soulmate won’t shut up, that his soulmate is Remy who’s just entirely wrong for him in every single fucking way.)

Logan doesn’t answer the text. He’s probably busy or asleep.

Remy feels so, so cold.

He frantically searches up solutions for soulmate-induced chills. He has flashbacks to middle and high school, back before he found Logan, cold every morning. People complained he was faking it, that there was no way it felt that bad, and eventually Remy learned to stop talking about it. Later the doctors told him he was abnormally sensitive, and even later he found out that Logan lived miles and miles away.

It had all been kind of justified. But that didn’t make him feel any better.

And today it just makes him feel worse. Great. Five days without his soulmate and he’s slipping back into old habits. Five days without his soulmate and he’s curled up on the couch and trying to find a way to make the cold leave.

Needy? Yes. Desperate? Yes. Justified? Yes, but also, not really.

All the tips involve stuff Remy can’t muster up the urge to go and find. He settles for rubbing at his skin, his wrists, his sides and his knees. For a second there’s a bit of relief, and then gone. It’s like itchy mosquito bites--the moment he warms one patch of skin, another starts aching with cold.

And he’s still hungry. And his ankle still hurts.

Remy curls deeper in the blankets and imagines Logan, Logan pressing a kiss to his hairline, Logan running a hand down his side, Logan close to him and Logan warm, like a bonfire Remy can never touch. Logan is the fucking sun and Remy is a cold, distant planet, trying his damn hardest to get close but knowing he’s just a blip on the radar. Logan can light up the world on his own. Without Logan, Remy can’t do jack-shit.

Remy is spinning through the universe, and it is dark and cold and really, really lonely.

He tugs a blanket over his head and tries to sleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s day six, and his eyelids are stuck together and he wishes fervently for coffee.

He fumbles for his phone. Logan’s texted him. Remy can’t muster up a smile.

It’s a long text. A paragraph. Logan’s walking Remy through his day? Cute. Logan’s so cute.

Remy tries to read it, but his eyes slip closed again and his stomach rumbles and his ankle stings and maybe he’ll just sleep until Logan gets here again, maybe he’ll enter hibernation--

He should answer Logan’s text.

He should call a friend. He’s pretty sure he has some, though he can’t remember why.

He should--maybe he should call 911.

But nah.

Remy’s not clingy, right?

He’s fine.

The phone slips from his hand as he falls back asleep.

Remy’s heard, somewhere, that having hypothermia means you get really warm right before you die. The cold kills you without you even feeling it.

And he can’t die from this. But he does wake up warm and that’s probably not a good sign.

Remy grabs his phone and checks the time. It’s...twelve. Twelve on the day Logan’s returning--and he’s returning at three.

Fuck, shit, fuck--

Remy scrambles to his feet, every bone in his body groaning in complaint. He feels like he got run over by a truck and he probably looks that way, too. His stomach is growling and his hands are shaking and his ankle doesn’t hurt anymore but it also won’t move the way it’s supposed to. He grabs his sunglasses and pulls them on, checking his phone’s texts.

A few texts from his manager. Because yeah, he just missed two extra days of work without even calling the guy. Fuck. Remy’ll have to work overtime or it’ll come down to Logan to pay the bills, and Remy doesn’t want to be even more useless.

One text from Logan.

I’m on the plane. I can’t wait to see you!

Remy wishes the feeling was mutual.

He pulls on his jacket and takes a look around. The living room is a mess of blankets that drown the couch and spill out onto the floor. The TV is blinking--Remy must have sat on the remote. He thwaps the side a few times until it turns off. Maybe he broke it. Well, problem for Future Remy.

Remy bundles up most of the blankets and shoves them haphazardly into the closet. Then he grabs the chip bags and throws them out. He’s starving--he pulls out a yogurt cup and downs it, then makes himself a triple-shot espresso. It’s scalding hot and he almost feels warm drinking it.

He doesn’t feel warm.

He doesn’t feel cold, either.

He feels--well, he’s not sure how he feels. Better, maybe? He’s definitely less of a lump. But everything’s kind of numb and lukewarm and hazy, and his hands won’t stop trembling.

He makes himself another coffee, just for good measure.

The sun streams through the window. Standing in it usually warms Remy up--today it makes him feel cold. He steps into the shadows and they skate over him comfortably. Chilly and numbing and safe, and this is very worrying, and maybe he should call a doctor.

Eh, Logan’ll be back soon. So it’s fine.

Remy tries to remember everything he should do. He was gonna explain to Logan why he bought those books. And what happened to his ankle. And why he hasn’t texted back. And how shitty everything’s been--well, no, not that last one.

Right! Right. The calendar. Throw it out so Remy doesn’t look desperate.

Remy stumbles over to the calendar and tears it down. It’s only marked halfway to today, because he’d given up on crossing off the days, but it’s still irritating to see.

Logan will be here soon.

Remy’s phone vibrates.

Logan’s in the airport. He’s driving home.

For some reason, Remy’s heart starts to race.

(Because the apartment is a mess. Because there are more astronomy books than there used to be. Because Remy looks like a dead rat. Because he hasn’t gone to work. Because Logan will see this mess and realize what a mess Remy is without him.)

Probably, the coffee didn’t help. Remy still takes a sip of it because the familiar taste helps ground him.

Okay. Logan’s getting here soon. And Remy will be warm. And everything will be fine. Everything will be fine and Remy can explain things later, when he’s warm.

He can feel Logan in his chest. Maybe that's why he woke up so warm--because Logan’s near. Logan’s near, and Logan’s close, and this should be enough.

It’s not.

Remy’s still numb in his extremities and trembling in his hands. He’s growing warmer but not fast enough. Logan’s not here yet and it hurts.

(Desperate.)

Yeah, he’s fucking desperate.

He paces back and forth across the kitchen. Back and forth. Back and forth. The exercise sends little tingles up his legs. He’s lukewarm right now. And it’s almost as painful as the cold, being so close to warmth but not quite there, hanging in limbo.

Remy checks his phone again and again and again.

He doesn’t text Logan, though. That’d be really needy.

Time ticks on and Remy wonders if the world has frozen instead of him.

He wants to scream. He wants to throw open the door and run to wherever Logan is and collapse in his arms and never leave. He wants to be near Logan. He wants to be with Logan. He wants Logan to never leave.

He wants.

Remy paces and back and forth and wants, more than he’s ever let himself before.

He probably looks so pathetic.

Maybe Logan’s late. Maybe Logan’s stopping to get groceries. Maybe Logan got mugged, or maybe Logan just isn’t here yet because it isn’t time yet, and Remy’s waiting--

A key turns in the lock.

Remy almost drops his coffee. He scrambles for it and manages to slam it on the counter. Then he puts his arm next to it, stares at the window, and tries to look nonchalant.

The door opens.

Logan.

Logan, his partner, his starlight.

Remy wants to run to him and tackle him and never let him go.

“Oh, hey, babes,” he says instead, glancing at Logan. “Back already? Time flies.”

“Don’t mention flying,” Logan complains, closing the door behind him and rubbing his eyes. “My flight back was a nightmare.”

“Really? Spill the tea, babe!” Remy casually grabs one of Logan’s suitcases. “I’ll cut a bitch if they fucked with you.”

“It was a baby,” Logan complains.

“Oh, damn, can’t kill it, can I?” Remy leans in to give Logan a quick kiss on the cheek and veers away just as quickly. Logan is a furnace. Remy’s melting in the proximity and he wants to get far away and he wants to burrow into the center of the warmth and let it envelop him.

Logan gives Remy an odd look. Remy grins and takes another sip of coffee.

“How are you?” Logan asks, peeling off his jacket. “You didn’t text me back. Were you busy?”

Remy shrugs. “Busy, bingeing Riverdale, what’s the difference?”

“Riverdale is a ridiculous show.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Logan rolls his eyes and leans in to press a kiss to Remy’s forehead. “I’m glad to be back, dear.”

And Remy almost shoves him away.

He realizes the instant he’s done so that he’s made a mistake. Logan’s staring at him in open confusion and--oh no--a bit of hurt.

“Is something wrong?” Logan asks. His voice is way too soft.

(He’s too close. He’s too far. Remy is going to burn up from the pure kindness in Logan’s eyes because fuck is he clingy.)

“Remy?” Logan asks.

Remy’s gone too long without talking.

“’Course I’m fine, babe.” Remy laughs. “You must be tired, right? Jet-lag and all that jazz. C’mon, let’s put your stuff away.”

Logan gives Remy a searching look. “We don’t have to right away. We can...watch a movie? Or cuddle, if you’d like.”

“Nah, you’re probably exhausted.” Remy tosses his coffee into the sink and waves at Logan to follow him. “I’ll get your stuff and you can go to bed, it’s fine--”

“Remy,” Logan says.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Remy looks back. Logan’s eyebrows are pulled together and he’s almost glowing in the afternoon sun. He’s tired. Remy can tell. Bags are smudged under his eyes and his hair is rumpled up. (Remy would reach out and rumple it more if he dared to get any closer.)

So why is he still here?

“Lo,” Remy says, and it comes out softer than he wanted. “Talk later. Sleep now.”

“Talk now, thank you.” Logan steps closer and Remy steps back. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Remy protests.

“Are you?” Logan reaches for his hand and Remy pulls it towards his chest. “I--I apologize if I’m overstepping, I promise I didn’t mean to alarm you--”

Remy takes another step back. Logan’s too close and too warm and too--

His twisted ankle slips.

He falls towards the kitchen floor and braces himself.

Warm.

Searing warmth around his chest.

Logan caught him.

Logan caught him and is holding him upright, eyes wide, face inches from Remy’s own. Where his skin meets Remy’s skin? Fire. Explosions of fireworks and the warmth of a hot bath and Remy’s missed this. Fuck, he’s missed this.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks.

Remy opens his mouth to say something and doesn’t.

“I--” Logan moves to step back. “Apologies, I didn’t want you to fall--”

No.

Maybe Remy’s clingy, but no, Logan is not moving away.

Remy throws his arms around Logan’s shoulders and curls into him.

Logan makes a small noise before returning the hug, hand coming up to cup Remy’s neck. It sears his skin and Remy should be in pain. He’s not. He actually whines, turning his face into Logan’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dear,” Logan whispers. His hand rubs down Remy’s side and Remy shudders. “Could you tell me what’s going on?”

Remy looks up, and his whole body is warm, and he realizes far too late that he’s starting to cry.

“Oh." Logan looks absolutely terrified. “Remy, what’s wrong?”

Remy doesn’t know how to say absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. So he settles for clinging to Logan’s shirt and disappearing into the warmth again, letting Logan hold him, knowing soon he’ll have to pull away but unwilling to let soon be now.

“Remy, dearest.” Logan brushes a kiss over Remy’s forehead and Remy whines again, goddammit. “Please, I can’t help you unless you talk to me. Or if you’re not ready, at least--at least signal to me what I can do?”

Don’t let go.

Fuck, Logan, don’t let go.

“Sorry,” Remy mutters, and tries to force himself to move out of Logan’s arms. “I--sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Logan sounds even more confused and upset. “Remy, I’m very confused right now.”

“I--” Remy manages to scoot a little bit away from Logan. The cold hits him like a blast and he shivers. “Don’t mind me.”

Logan reaches out and catches Remy’s hand. He folds it in his own. Remy stares at it and looks up, and he realizes his vision is blurring. Shit. He’s crying over held hands--he really is pathetic.

“Remy.”

Remy almost gasps as Logan presses their hands to his chest. Remy can feel Logan’s heartbeat, fluttering under his fingers.

“Remy, please,” Logan insists. “I’m worried.”

“I--you--” Remy tries to roll his eyes. “I’ve just...missed you, is all.”

“Oh?”

“And it’s--” Remy shrinks into himself, looking away. “I’m not trying to be needy or anything. But it’s--y’know. It’s been kinda cold without you.”

“Oh.”

Remy stares at his feet, eyes stinging.

“Remy, dearest, please look at me.” Logan’s voice is unexpectedly soft. “You’re cold?”

Remy nods.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You couldn’t have done anything about it,” Remy points out.

“I still would have liked to know.” Logan places two fingers under Remy’s chin and tilts it up. Remy’s eyes meet Logan’s--Logan is so pretty, with those dark eyes and that ruffled hair and such a concerned look on his face. (Remy doesn’t deserve him.)

“Would you like to cuddle now?” Logan asks. “It will probably help.”

Remy shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t--” Remy waves a hand. “You’re tired.”

“I’m not, and even if I was, you’re more important.” Logan sighs. “We can even cuddle in bed and I can sleep, if it’s that necessary for you.”

“No thanks,” Remy says, trying to wipe away his tears surreptitiously. “I don’t need that.”

“But you want it,” Logan says. “Don’t you?”

Remy presses his lips together.

“Remy. Dearest.” Logan looks pained. “Why aren’t you letting yourself get what you want?”

Something stabs into Remy’s heart and stays there.

“I love you,” Logan pleads. “You’re cold. I--I’m afraid I don’t see what the problem is--”

“Because you don’t want to!” Remy bursts out.

“I don’t--what?” Logan looks utterly bewildered. “Of course I want you to be happy and warm!”

“But you don’t want--you can’t want--” Remy waves an arm at the kitchen, then at himself. “I’m just being clingy, it’s fine--”

“Clingy?” Logan repeats. And now he looks heartbroken.

“Yeah, needy, desperate, whatever.” Remy shrugs. “I’m just sensitive, it’s really fine.”

“Remy. Remy, please.” Logan shakes his head. “Remy, I love you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Logan asks. “I love you and I want you to be happy and I treasure your company. It’s not a burden on me to support you.”

“But you always support me!” Remy fires back. “You do all the work and I just lounge around! I don’t--you’re just stuck with me ‘cause I’m your fucking soulmate!”

There’s a long, frozen silence.

“I’m sorry,” Remy whispers. “Really am, starlight.”

“No.” Logan squares his shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I ever made you think you weren’t good enough for me.”

“What?” Remy asks.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you believe I felt ‘stuck’ with you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you didn’t contribute anything to this relationship. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel needy for wanting comfort.”

Remy swallows.

“I’m sorry if--” Logan shakes his head. “Do you remember the time I got a flat tire and you singlehandledly convinced several different people to drive us, in small increments, to a repair shop?”

“Yes?” Remy blinks a few times. “What’s this have to do with--”

“Do you remember the time one of my students almost dropped out and I cried because I thought I’d failed them, and you helped me reach out to them? They graduated, dearest. With a solid B minus.”

“I know, but--”

“Do you remember all the times you send me to bed for sleeping late?” Logan continues. “Do you remember all the afternoons you flopped on my lap and watched TV with me? Do you remember how you always let me talk about whatever I’d like and you always listen?”

Remy stares at Logan.

“I love you,” Logan says desperately, “and you have helped me so much, and I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Soulmate or no, I love you. And I will always support you, without hesitation, just as much as you’ve supported me.”

Logan opens his arms. “So...if you’d like to, I think you might like a hug?”

Remy presses a hand to his mouth. “I--”

“It’s okay,” Logan says. “You’re not desperate. You just need help right now.”

Remy chokes back a sob and collapses into Logan’s arms.

“Shh,” Logan whispers as Remy starts to cry. “Shh, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I missed you,” Remy confesses.

“I know. I missed you too.”

“I love you.” Remy suddenly feels he needs to say it. “I love you so much, starlight.”

“I know.” Remy can hear the trace of a smile in Logan’s voice. “And I’m all the better for it.”

They stand there a long time, Remy sinking into the warmth, head on Logan’s shoulder and arms tucked around his waist. There are things they could be doing. Logan still needs sleep and Remy hasn’t eaten much and they’ve got jobs and lives and a million little things to put back in order.

For now, though, it’s just them in an empty kitchen.

Remy feels like his chest is on fire.

It’s not uncomfortable, though. It’s like the flame of a hearth, guiding him home. Telling him he’s right where he needs to be. And so is Logan.

Together. In each other’s arms. Smiling.

And fuck, Remy feels like he could touch the sun.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @somehow-i-got-an-account @starlight-era @just-your-typical-trans-guy @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @callboxkat @sign-from-god-complex @locked-prism @sign-from-god-complex @a-fandom-trashdump @dragonwithproblems @snowdice @just-a-random-enby @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @sign-from-god-complex @hitmewiththatfanart33 @aceawkwardunicorn @callboxkat @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @demoniccheese83 @legendsgates @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

#losleep #remy sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #ts remy #ts logan #qpr losleep #averywrites #human au #soulmate au #ts shorts remy #tw self-deprecation #look they're soft and i'm soft and it's nine at night #idk what u want from me

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allbrainrot · 4 years

Note

hello!!! sobs i hope its ok to come by and request smth for a male reader 👉👈 id like 🖤 for felix, please? thank you if you do it!!!

Yes, I will do my best!! I am a raging wlw I must support the mlm homies 😭🖤 You are also an epic swag fellow kinnie shoutout to you- if you couldn’t tell by my profile I kin Marianne LMFAO and I’m actually named after another main kin Allister SWSH or Alli for short 😏✌🏻

Felix:

- He definitely wouldn’t ever directly mention the ball or anything about it because that’s way too close to getting vulnerable around people, gross! That doesn't mean that he hasn’t thought about it though, Felix treats this shit like preparing for battle and he’s constantly on his toes figuring out what to wear, how to do his hair, what he’s going to say to you etc.

- If you're like.. low-key about your sexuality or haven't really officially told everyone at the monastery, he will definitely have at least 3 days of inconspicuously eavesdropping on you and your friends until he hears you say something about men and he's like thank the goddess LMAO I think it’s kind of a universal experience for same gender attracted people who don’t know their crush’s sexuality to have that OH SHIT WHAT IF THEY'RE NOT GAY moment 💀

- Most of the Blue Lions have decided to visit the training grounds today, where Felix is naturally located and acting like none of you are there (but he’s definitely like..secretly trying to impress you). That’s where the fateful conversation occurs where a couple other people on the sideline engage you in a conversation about the ball and you drop the info that you’re just not going.

- RIP Felix my man almost drops his sword but luckily for him, he’s already located in the ideal place to relieve his stress! Oh boy if someone was sparring with Felix I wish them luck 😭

- Cue Felix alone in his room screaming into a pillow. Now he still has to try to ask you out but he doesn’t have the cover of the ball to help him! On one hand, he’s relieved that he can stop stressing out about being prepared for it, but on the other hand, have you seen Felix’s S support?? I hope you’re better at interpreting tone/social cues than me because you basically have to translate everything Felix says to what he really means. But if you like Felix and he likes you too then I’m sure you’ve already established a good understanding of each other and you're good at communicating with him!

- On the night that it actually happens and you're just chilling in your room, Felix knows that he really has no other option than to knock on your door. So he just ends up pacing next to your door for like 30 minutes because he has no idea what he’s going to do next.

- At some point you go out to get yourself water or something so you open the door and you're just like wtf Felix how long have you been here and what the hell are you doing??? SIGH he’s going to get defensive because you caught him off guard and he's embarrassed and nervous AF. And Felix deals with these things by lashing out at people, but if you've been around him a lot it becomes evident where his outburst is actually coming from. Like I said. Felix translation.

- Oh boy this one has been pent up for a looooong time and this particular emotion is one that Felix is the worst at dealing with, so he’s probably gonna say some REALLY mean shit like ‘I felt compelled to check on your lonely ass from the pity of our classmates. But I understand why you're here, there's not a single person in that room who would want to court you’ LIKE HOLY SHIT FELIX YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM 😭😭 but it came out of absolutely nowhere so the real ones know that there’s something going on 😎

- SO let’s dissect some Felix language, shall we? 1.) Ok no one asked him to come here just admit that you care Felix!! 2.) Hmmmm Felix it’s awfully interesting that you felt the need to specify that you're the only one who understands (Y/N), and it’s REALLY interesting that you've decided to cut off all competition in one sentence sir! 3.) It’s also awfully suspicious that you felt the need to specify that no one at the ball wants to court you, but of course that doesn’t include the one person who isn't there..? 🤔 Yeah ok Felix, we know that you’re just trying to ask out (Y/N) we’re on to you..

- So as someone who has been able to get close enough to Felix to gain his affections, reader sees right through him lol that insult was just a little too oddly specific. Please just put Felix out of his misery and say you like him too LMAO. TOTALLY catches Felix so off guard that it takes a minute to even realize what you had just done, he was fully prepared for yelling. WAIT YOU JUST SAID- BUT HOW DID YOU EVEN KNOW- Felix machine malfunctioning. Literally almost falls over but you're there to catch the poor man lmao.

- Uhhh what does one do with a very flustered Felix in a state of shock??? Just bring him inside I guess??? 😭 Will probably just conk out on your bed if you set him on it mans was in fight or flight mode he's drained + sleeping is an efficient way to escape embarrassment! Exhausted Felix has just kind of accepted that this is his fate and gone tf to sleep..I guess Felix is staying in your room tonight! If you wake up in the middle of the night there will absolutely be an asleep Felix clinging to you there is no space between you anymore..

I hope that was decent!! 😭 When I brainstorm for these things while doing stuff during the day I naturally just insert myself, so I tried my absolute best to just use my sga experiences and view them through a male’s POV! But it’s totally not a bother at all, you all are welcome to request male or enby readers! Otherwise I usually tend to write femme leaning.. ;-; Some fics do have pronouns in them and I typically use they/them to keep it somewhat neutral but feel free to ask for your pronouns! Obviously others are always welcome to read the posted fic and swap in their own pronouns mentally!

-Tired Allister

#fire emblem felix x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #three houses reader insert #three houses fanfic #three houses x reader #fe3h fanfic #fe3h x reader #fe3h imagines #fe3h felix #fe3h felix x reader #felix hugo fraldarius x reader #felix x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #fire emblem three houses fanfic #fire emblem felix #fire emblem fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert

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slasherholic · 4 years

Note

omg i never thought abt jen and mikey together but like......wow so pretty. do u have any thoughts or hcs u can share 🥺

tbh I only ship them as a crackship for the aesthetic™️ and also bc a power couple consisting of not one but TWO gorgeous murderous bastards is too much for my feeble villain fucker brain to handle

bUT YES I TOTALLY DO HAVE HCS. they’re v lazy but kinky as shit because michael really really needs to get dommed i mean knocked down a few pegs by a woman other than laurie sOOO

*note: the film never specifies jennifer’s age, and neither did any of the sources I researched, so I’m sticking with my pre-existing hc that she was an 18 y/o senior in the movie. jen is obviously a legal adult here 👍

HCs | Jennifer Check x Michael Myers (NSFW)

*AU where Jen lived and went on to be a bitchy succubus for all eternity and is now extremely good at what she does

*warning: non-consensual pp touching ahead

ha, hope y’all didn’t think this was gonna be an actual functional relationship cause IF SO well then honey, you got a big storm comin

remember the jason x mikey ship dynamic where the gag is that mikey is basically jay jay’s stinky mean cat who gets sprayed in the face with water every time he’s bad?

yeah, so michael is jennifer’s bitch very angry, very fun pet. oh how the turntables, mikey

only jennifer doesn’t exactly share jason’s innocent nature ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

michael had been in the market for a new “s/o” after his old one errr broke

and since stalking jen made his pp very hard, she was obviously the perfect choice for the job

but when michael made his move on her, haha whOOPS

nice going pp brain, your not-so-victim is a literal man eater and you just broke into her home so now she’s going to kick your fucking ass

yes jen is stronger than michael, yes she can yeet him like a soda can across her kitchen, yes she can sit on his chest and choke him out against the floor, yes it all happened in that order and no michael doesn’t want to talk about it

in michael’s defense he did get a fuckton of fatal stabs in on jen before he conked out from oxygen deprivation

lol too bad she’s immortal dumbass

jen wasn’t expecting to be dining-in tonight, but oh well a bitch ain’t gonna turn down free catering

might as well get a peek at what’s on the menu tho, let’s just get this crusty ass mask outta way and—

—oop he’s gorg.

totally her type too, at least back when she dated boys instead of tearing out their livers

she’s not even -that- hungry, so like, she kinda doesn’t wanna kill him yet?

she like, kinda thinks he might look pretty chained up ass naked in her living room?

yeah she was right lol

also his dick big

tbh jen was only planning to keep michael around until she got hungry, but fuck, he’s just so much fun to play with

she figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t gonna talk to her

but that’s cool, he doesn’t have to open his stubborn bitch mouth for her to know how much he fucking detests the cuffs he’s locked up in and her and the fact that she can overpower him

jen finds it really funny to pin michael’s limbs down and have sloppy make-out sessions with his pretty face until that nasty glare of his turns downright murderous

yeah it gets her bitten but she doesn’t care because that’s really hot what the fuck

he’s so feral she loves it

soon, she’s making a point of grinding her crotch against his bare cock as she sucks his lower lip until he pops a very hard and very angry boner

sometimes jen leaves her cute toy all alone afterwards to suffer with his problem

but sometimes, she reaches down and wraps one of her slender hands around his hard-on, stroking and squeezing and teasing until he’s beading up with precum, painfully swollen

and then she grips his powerful neck with her other hand

and while jerking his cock, c h o k e s him until he’s blue in the face, until his body is gasping and heaving reflexively, until he’s fighting and thrashing so violently that he’s nearly bucking her off

but oh my god, he comes like a motherfucking firehose

michael has never felt such indescribable rage in his entire life. not toward anything or anyone. nothing he has ever experienced approaches this boiling hatred; he despises jennifer check with every fiber of his empty black heart and when gets free he is going to murder her in the most brutal fashion his mind can possibly concoct.

and jennifer absolutely cannot get enough of him.

#jennifer check #Michael Myers #jenmyers #jennifers body #halloween #slashers #slasher headcanons #horror #writing #fanfiction

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meowmeowmessi · 3 years

Text

tagged by: @co-dependent

Thanks for the tag! ❤❤❤

name: lol no. but y'all can call me ella

nicknames: tahu/tahi

starsign: gemini

gender: she/her

height: 5'1 (I haven't checked in a long ass time tho so maybe I've grown a little and hit 5'2 who knows)

sexual orientation: sex repulsed ace!

fav color: blue, purple, black

current time: 6:19 pm

current location: south asia

average hours of sleep: I stay up all night then conk out from 6 to 12 so make of that what u will

lucky number: I don't have one???

last thing i googled: "american pie lyrics"

number of blankets i sleep with: 1

fav fictional characters: sam and dean winchester (duh). I have more but I can't remember atm for some reason (hint: it's bc I'm dumb)

fave bands/artists: fall out boy, taylor swift, hozier, bob seger, don mclean, queen, blue oyster cult, the police, bump of chicken, the lumineers

dream job: used to be writer, but now I wanna get into the field of criminology. but honestly? I don't want a job I just wanna eat pizza in bed and chill all day is that too much to ask

random fact: I have a single dimple! (god decided to give me dimples then half assed it and gave me only one. figures smh)

do you have any other blogs?: a main blog!

when did your blog reach its peak?: now actually XDD

what made you decide to get tumblr?: I was a wee lass and a fan of this mangaka named hiro mashima (I hate him now. his work is trash I said what I said), and I saw people posting his art here (extra stuff outside of his mangas that is), so I got curious and made an account lol

why did you choose your URL?: bc sam and dean and baby are the only leads of spn

I'm tagging @catgirlmulder @armymaninashtraysaweverything @casa-neurotica @canthearyouoverthesoundofcanon and @random-fireworks! It's cool if you don't want to participate tho!

#tag game #I actually have one of those names that you can't really make a nickname out of #but one of my friends calls me tahu #and my mom sometimes calls me tahi lol #about me #edit: holy heck I just remembered: ATTICUS FINCH!!!! FROM TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD!!!!!!#he's lit rally one of my fave fictional characters ever I'd die for him #atticus from go set a watchman who I don't know him :\

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parasolids · 3 years

Note

paw & russian blue??

ty allie!!!

paw: what movie could you watch 1000 times and not get bored of?

hmmmm i dont really watch a lot of movies tbh but i have always loved the movie 3 idiots..... and also ive watched big hero 6 a lot of times

russian blue: what would you describe your aesthetic/style as?

i dont know LOL theres a lot of aesthetics i like! why have one when you can have a hundred. some highlights include

-Extreme Normcore - like rooms that are so normal they’re borderline liminal, suburbs and bare trees, literally just being Some Guy and nothing special. grocery stores

- machines, laboratories, technical diagrams. astronauts and space but in a very technical/scary void way not in a cute holographic way. love the feeling like theyre going to start experimenting on me.

-bright colored kidlike stuff. rainbow cakes and fun plushies. honestly i had to do occupational therapy for a bit as a kid for some reason and they basically taught me motor skills and stuff using play so it was an absolute BLAST for 7 yo me and i loved it so i kind of have a soft spot for the kinds of graphics and such that i would see there.

-weird dreams, actual liminal spaces

-academia but less in a formal rich kid boarding school way and more an “it’s 9 am and you are CONKED OUT ENTIRELY in the computer lab wearing sweatpants and your teammates have gotten tired of walking between your two capstone workspaces so you’ve just started skateboarding down the hall instead” type way

-disaster emo skater boy scene kid punk i know those are like 5 different aesthetics but i can and will combine them all. most of what i wear either looks like Skateboarder but im really bad at skateboarding going to go out to practice later today tho

thanks for coming to my ted talk

#boyishs

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mil-unloaded · 4 years

Text

Lifestyle changes happening right quick:

1. No (blue) screen time after the kids go to bed (to be honest I keep the TV on Golden Girls while W falls asleep, then I shut the TV off when he conks out. I can use my phone to control the Roku, too). If J and I stay up, it will be to have a chat, play a board game, read a book, etc. But...

2. (Consistent bedtime)...in bed by 9:30-10PM every night.

3. Bedtime routine! I’m going to start showering before bed, drinking water, bathroom habits, brushing teeth, floss, hair stuff if I desire, etc etc etc. I never had a bedtime routine—or at least I haven’t since I was a kid.

4. No coffee after 2PM. Only herbal tea after 2PM if I desire a hot beverage.

5. Bedroom will generally only be used for sleep and other bed-type habits (insert 12 year-old boy style giggles here). I will not chill back there and watch TV, and I will try not to work back there, either. I try to do most of my work in the kitchen or at the dining table anyway.

6. We will kick the thermostat down a few degrees at bedtime in the summer to help us sleep better, and kick it back up in the morning. (I read that we tend to sleep better when we are cooler, 60-68 F degrees.)

7. Light dinners, no after dinner snacking.

8. 1500 calories max a day, until surgery (in December? FINGERS CROSSED).

9. We will start dimming the lights in the house after dinner, and get our bodies used to winding down.

10. Early morning walks. No working out or anything strenuous after dinner until bedtime.

11. If I wake in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep after 10 minutes, I’m climbing out of bed and going to try relaxing somewhere else before returning to bed.

**Why am I talking about some of this stuff? I received my sleep study results today. I’m getting about 5-6 hours of sleep a night on average, and I rarely enter REM. I dream most nights so I’m in there for a bit...but I’m not in it for long. So I’m not well rested during the day and often feel like I could take a nap at any time, most days. Doctor said that I need to work on my sleep hygiene. Oh, also I’m super cute in that I snore myself awake. Lol

**So on top of that, I also received my pre-surgery diet and nutrition program paperwork. It says things like: 3 meals and 1 snack a day. No more than 1500 calories for women. No alcohol/smoking (don’t do either anyway. I’m only interested in wine and have yet to find a wine that has no grapes in it—I’m allergic to grapes, stomach cramping and diarrhea ahoy!) Also it doesn’t say NO CARBS CARBS ARE BAD...it just basically eludes that you don’t need a ton of carbs. So I’m going to introduce either a single piece of toast (avocado toast!?) or oatmeal for breakfast again...but we will see!

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Eighty-Three: Sterilized ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Shizune, Yamato ] [ SasuHina, blood ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Whoa -!”

“Look out!”

THWACK.

Staggering back, Sasuke feels his head spin on an axis for a moment. What...what just…? He can hear people shouting, several running over and staring at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“Here, sit down for a sec -”

“- need to get that looked at -”

“- nurse still in her office?”

Blinking blearily, Sasuke swats half-heartedly at reaching hands. “G’off me,” he slurs, irritation starting to build.

“Dude, you got nicked by a bat! You gotta get that looked at!” Naruto insists, worry clear in his blues.

“...what?”

“The guy who was up to practice batting! He lost his grip and the bat, it like -” The blond begins pantomiming. “It was like, ‘whoosh!’ And was spinning through the air, right at you! We all yelled, but you just kinda, turned and then, ‘whack!’ it totally beaned ya in the forehead! You’re lucky it didn’t hit ya more directly, huh? It mighta killed ya!”

Scoffing, Sasuke makes to retort, but flinches as someone presses cloth to his brow. “I got hit by a bat -?”

“Yeah, I just told ya! You don’t have, like...brain damage, do ya?”

That earns a scowl. “No, just - get off me!”

“We really should get that cleaned up, Sasuke,” the coach offers, brow knitted with concern. “You should head in and see if the nurse is still in the building. Best to get it sterilized and patched up before it gets infected.”

“Sasuke?!”

At the voice, he perks up. Wait, what is she doing here -?

The rest of the gathered baseball team parts, showing Hinata jogging across the pitch. “What’s going on? I heard shouting, and -?”

“He got hit by a bat!” Naruto chirps.

“W-what?!”

“It was just a graze,” the coach cuts in. “But he needs to get that split in his forehead looked at - it might need stitches.”

Hands cover her mouth. “I can take him! Our practice got cancelled, so...here, let me -”

Face going red in embarrassment - of course she’s here to see him look like an idiot! - Sasuke lets her gently haul him to his feet. “It’s really not that bad…” he insists, swaying a bit as vertigo kicks in.

“I think the n-nurse needs to decide that,” is her insistent retort. “Come on.”

Leaning on her a bit as his head pounds (as well as an organ in his chest), Sasuke begrudgingly lets her lead him back from the baseball field behind the school to the rear doors. “...really, I’m fine…”

Hinata gives him a pointed glance. “...you don’t have to act like such a t-tough guy, you know.”

His lips curl into a pout.

“Accidents happen in sports. I dunno how many times I’ve been w-whacked by a racket, or gotten a volleyball to the face. It just...happens. But you have to make sure you get it taken care of, right?”

“...yeah, I guess.”

“I really hope you don’t need stitches...maybe just a butterfly bandage or two…” Pale eyes glance to his forehead, gauze still in place.

“...does it look bad?”

“I dunno, I can’t, um...I can’t see it. But it doesn’t seem to be b-bleeding too bad now…”

Soon enough they make their way through the back door, Sasuke’s head pounding as he pinches his eyes shut. Ugh, it’s hard to concentrate with his headache…

“Oh, nurse Shizune, w-wait please! We had an injury on the baseball field!”

Pausing on her way out, the school physician does as asked, taking him back into her room and looking him over. Hands carefully pull away the gauze. “Ooh, yeah...that’s quite the split…”

“Does he need stitches…?”

“Mm...I don’t think so. Let me get it cleaned up and take a closer look.”

Looking anxious, Hinata stands beside his seat atop the cot, fidgeting her hands.

Flinching with a hiss as Shizune takes antiseptic to the wound, Sasuke tries to rein in his reaction - it might be dumb, but he doesn’t want to look pitiful in front of Hinata…

“Well, you’ve got quite the goose egg going,” the nurse reports. “Headache?”

“Yeah…”

She fetches some ibuprofen and a cup of water, letting him take it as she looks him over a bit more. “I don’t think you’re concussed, though...I think a few butterfly bandages should do you just fine, but keep an eye on it over the weekend. If it starts looking worse, head in to a doctor.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Shizune applies the bandages, then tapes some gauze over the split. “Be sure to keep it clean, and let it breathe a bit so it can heal. But carefully: you don’t want those coming off.”

Giving a flinching nod, Sasuke eases off the cot and makes to leave, Hinata beside him as he offers thanks for her help. “Well...guessing I can’t really go back to practice…” he murmurs.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hinata agrees. “Should we, um...should we go tell your coach?”

He glances at her at the word ‘we’. “...yeah.”

Yamato, thankfully, just gives a stern nod. “Best to get some rest and let that heal up. Don’t need you making it worse if something else conks you over the head.”

Naruto gives his friend a worried glance. “...you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Just need a day off. See everybody Monday.” Waving, he starts to head back to pick up his stuff and go change.

...Hinata’s still following him.

“Do you have a way home?” she asks.

“I drove, yeah.”

“Do you...think you’re safe to drive?”

That earns a snort. “I’m not comatose, Hinata. Just a little banged up. I’ll be fine.”

Her cheeks flare pink. “...okay. Um…”

“...what?”

“Do you want -? Should I go with you? Just, um...just in case?”

He blinks at her. “...if you want. I’ll be right back.” Changing back into his jeans and shirt, he hauls his bag over his shoulder before reemerging. “Here, I’m parked around the corner. Do you have your bike…?”

“Well, yeah…”

“We can put it in the back. It’s my mom’s huge SUV.”

“...oh!”

Maneuvering the bike into the back, Sasuke then takes the driver’s seat, digging out his keys as Hinata sits sheepishly in the front. “...want me to drop you off first?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to be sure you get home all right.”

Blinking at the typical role reversal, Sasuke doesn’t argue, putting the car into reverse and heading out of the lot. “...so how come your practice got cancelled?”

“Oh, well...one of the water hydrants got hit by, uh - by the school lawnmower…?” She giggles into a hand. “It was spraying water all over the tennis courts! So we got to go home while they - while they fix it. It’s fine, we’ll just practice again on Monday. One missed day won’t mess us up.”

“Well, guess that makes two of us skipping out on practice,” he muses, giving a hint of a smile at her nod. “Naruto’s going to give me crap about it on Monday, I’m sure…”

“I don’t know, he looked pretty worried. I mean...it was bleeding pretty good there for a m-minute…”

He gives her a glance. “Eh, it’ll be fine. Baseball’s a risky game. Least it didn’t knock my block off.”

Hinata looks to him sharply. “It b-better not!”

“Ever gotten hit by a flying racket?”

“Well...no. I’ve been swatted, but not...not like that. It must’ve really hurt…”

“Wasn’t that bad. Just made me a little dizzy. Headache is already fading. I’ll be fine.”

Still looking unconvinced, Hinata watches as he pulls into the driveway. To his chagrin, his mother is out front watering some flowers, looking to him curiously.

“You’re home early, S- wait, what’s that on your forehead? What happened?”

“Got nicked by a bat, I’m fine,” he mutters in reply, letting her take his cheeks and look him over.

“Someone hit you?”

“Not on purpose - they let the bat slip, and -”

“Oh my gosh, hun! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he insists again. “Just got a bit of a headache and a split. Nothing serious. School nurse already looked me over.”

Mouth settled into a firm line, Mikoto retorts, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m sure.”

Still looking a tad suspicious, it’s then she seems to take notice of their guest. “...oh! You’re the girl from the game! With the flat bike tire!”

Hinata’s cheeks dust pink. “Yes ma’am. Hinata.”

“Right, right - are you here for -?”

“She wanted to be sure I didn’t conk out behind the wheel,” Sasuke cuts in.

“Oh, how sweet! Thank you, dear!”

“It - I was glad to!”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“No ma’am, it’s not far. I’ve got my bike - no more flat!”

“Oh good, good...well, come back any time!” Mikoto enthuses, earning a groan from her son. “Thanks again for helping him!”

Fetching her bike, Sasuke mutters, “Sorry about her…”

“She’s fine - really sweet, actually,” Hinata counters with a giggle. “But...I better get home. Lots of homework to do.”

“Yeah, same...see you Monday…?”

“Mhm!” Hopping astride the seat, she waves before shoving off down the sidewalk.

He watches her go, deflating a bit as Mikoto steps up beside him. “So…?”

“So nothing,” he mumbles, turning away. “I’ve got homework to do…”

Smiling coyly to herself, she just watches him go. “...mhm…”

.oOo.

Oh man it's late so I'll be brief OTL More sportsverse! With Sasuke getting a bat to the face! Ouch! At least Hinata's there to help, right? Totally not embarrassing. But hey, at least she seemed concerned! Awkward and painful, sure...but a bonding moment is a bonding moment! But yeah, III need sleep lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #shizune #yamato #blood //#best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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grant-spiraltf · 5 years

Text

The Summer Is Magic - Grey

@writer-ofstuff was having a good day at home until an email arrived in his inbox which he never thought he’d get. “FIRED?!” As he read the email, it became clear to him that there was no alternative. “Blah blah budget cuts... Blah blah deeply regret YEAH RIGHT if you ‘deeply regretted it’, then why am I fired!” After rereading it multiple times, Writer had enough. He grabbed his coat and headed out. At least 4 shots later, he finally felt all the worries about the future fall off his shoulders. The (kinda cute) bartender came up to him and told him that the bar was closing and much to his surprise, it was already 4 AM! So he asked the handsome lad for one last beer and his number, which he both received with a wink. He clumsily opened the beer and he was welcomed by an unfamiliar smell. “Hey, did you give me a speciality beer?” The barman smiled and said, “Yep, on the house if you allow me to drive you home” before continuing to clean up. Writer took a swig and immediately felt lightheaded. It was probably the beer mixing with the other drinks, but it felt weird anyway. He took another good look at the label, but it all started to blur so he took another good look at the liquid inside. “Why’s this beer grey? Hello?” He glanced around but the bartender was gone. Suddenly the bottle started to vibrate, grabbing his attention again and when he looked at it again, the bottle found its way back to Writer’s mouth and he started chugging it all. Once it was empty, the bottle vanished and Writer felt like a veil was being pulled over his conscience. He looked around one last time and found the bartender leaning against the wall, only with a completely different (and gorgeous) face. With a few blinks that kept getting slower and slower, Writer finally blacked out.

Colin was absolutely smashed. He bantered with his friends about having “Pirate’s Blood”, but once he got started he really didn’t like stopping. So when his buddy Josh Dallas invited him over for a drinking night because the wife conked out, he planned on going all the way. Luckily Josh had a spare bedroom so he didn’t have to travel afterwards. Last time they did this and Colin prepared to go home he passed out in the hall and Josh let him sleep there, so this time he made sure he had a bed reserved.

After 3 beers Josh’s speech had already started to slur. Although he was quite a big fella, alcohol was Josh’s greatest weakness. Colin had downed twice as much but he was nowhere near as drunk. He started talking about all sorts of things that were sort of TMI, like how Gennifer tended to make him eat her out while he had said that he didn’t enjoy doing it. Luckily Colin was able to swing the conversation back to normal stuff with a little effort. After nearly avoiding a conversation about dick size by swinging it to Josh's new personal trainer via bicep size, something weird happened. Although there was no storm outside, somehow a gust of wind was forceful enough to open a window and blow something inside. Colin couldn't really see what it was and he was about to go take a look when drunk Josh pushed him back into the seat and told him that he got it covered. Josh bent over, nearly falling but somehow managing to stay up and he got back up again with some weird glowing ball in his hands. “Lol, this looks like something from the show haha, a magic orb-” Josh was wheezing from his own joke when it emitted a bolt of lightning that struck him right in the chest. Colin was a little tipsy before but now he was 100% sober again. He rushed towards his fainted friend while the blog exited the building the way it came in.

After a thorough inspection, Josh seemed to be fine. “He probably passed out again. Fuck that means that I have to carry him to his bed.” Colin dreaded this because he nearly threw out his back last time that he had done that. Suddenly Josh opened his eyes and gasped for breath. He frantically looked around for a moment before noticing Colin leaning over him, and his facial expression changed from shock to something that Colin hadn't seen before. He backed off a little so Josh had enough space to get back up, but Josh wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Since it was a pretty hard fall it wasn’t weird for Josh to feel weak, and getting zapped sure didn’t help. He tensed his back muscles to give his buddy a solid way to get up, but Josh didn’t get any farther than a foot off the ground. In fact, he just hung around his neck and staring into his eyes like a sloth. Colin was about to say something about how this was kinda gay until he saw that Josh’s eyes were a little more blue than usual. “What the fu-” was all he could say before getting shut up by Josh’s lips.

Colin wanted to push Josh back down and leave, but somehow he couldn’t get himself to do it. The feeling of Josh’s tongue trying to enter his mouth and his heavy breath somehow made him care less about what was happening and just go with the flow. Josh moaned loudly and the breath that came out of his mouth smelled like vanilla, which made Colin’s cock leak precum. This confused him. He felt an insane need for Josh and wanted nothing more than cater to Josh’s every need, but he also was deeply disgusted and wanted to leave immediately. Meanwhile, Josh had started pawing his crotch and tweaking his nipples until Colin couldn’t hold back anymore. He started undoing his pants and grabbed his erect cock, hoping that his lover would suck him off, but when he looked back at Josh he noticed another change in his demeanour. From shock to lust he had gone earlier, but now there was no emotion whatsoever. Josh pushed him back into the couch and Colin hoped that he was gonna dominate him, but to Colin’s surprise Josh stuffed his cock back in his pants, put on his coat and left without saying a word. Since he was extremely erect, Colin decided to jack off to the thought of Josh’s throbbing cock in his mouth. After his fantasy evolved to Josh fucking him in his ass while making out with him, Colin couldn’t hold back his orgasm anymore. He came hard and covered his face with his own cum, catching a few ropes in his mouth. He breathed heavily and smelled a familiar vanilla smell.

Colin looked around. “Josh? Are you back? I came without you, but if you give me a minute I’ll be ready for another round!” Colin quickly devoured all of the cum that was on his face and body, but he didn’t find Josh. Instead, he heard the clanking of a bottle hitting wood behind him and he saw a brand new beer bottle standing on the table. “Okay, I know I said the last one was the last one, but I can’t resist an open beer and you know that Josh! So where are you?” He playfully searched the room for his playmate, but he couldn’t find him anywhere so he picked up the bottle. “GS Specialty Beer? Josh where did you get this? I’ve never heard of this brand.” Colin smelled it and loved the vanilla, so he took a chug. Somehow the beer tasted perfect, but it felt kind of slimy in his throat. After two more chugs he was disappointed by a lack of more booze, so he put down the bottle and burped. And he burped again. Soon he was burping so much that it looked like there was something trying to come out of him. It was then that he heard a little voice in his mind, asking him what was happening. Thinking that this was all just a bad trip or something, Colin laid down on his side and closed his eyes.

When Writer woke up, he had no idea where he was or who he was. All he knew that something strange had happened like in the stories he wrote like he now possessed someone. He stood up and was hit immediately by a sharp pain. “Fuck, I hate hangovers.” He grasped his throat and found new muscular hands massaging his unshaven neck. He stood up, still a little dizzy from all the booze, and ran to the mirror, only to find the handsome Colin O’Donoghue staring back at him, fully naked and fully erect. One tug on the sizable cock was enough to not only make him moan but also a voice in his head. “Colin?” “Fuck yeah, stroke that cock.” Writer found his new hands immediately obeying the orders and he started stroking his dick. After minutes of flexing and stroking, he finally blew his load over the mirror. With gusto, he licked it all up and went on with his day.

“Buddy it’s been a month now, you know damn well that when you drink too much, I get stuck with the consequences!” Writer was mad at his host, but Colin knew damn well it wouldn’t take long. Turns out that they would continue losing control to the other every time they went to sleep. Colin knew that he shouldn’t dump his hangovers on his new partner, but at least he now had no downsides to drinking anymore! “Ugh fine, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long. But that means that next time that Josh is gonna fuck us, I’m making sure he’s gonna fuck us so hard that you’ll feel it for the rest of the day. Colin laughed inside. Like that was a punishment!

#tf story #celeb tf #tf series #grant-spiraltf #writer tf #writer-of-stuff #colin o'donoghue #summer is magic #writing event

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