#i know you gotta be sick of my ass flopping around in here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delopsia · 3 months

Text

Wolfish | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf! Bob, implied werewolf hunter! Reader, unprotected sex, Bob has an undiagnosed praise kink, brief over-stimulation, size kink if you squint, sex against a wall, werewolves doing...werewolf things. Brief Summary: You can't seem to keep your hands off each other today. My late entry for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month!

Your back slams against the locker doors. Metal clatters so loud that it echoes. Bouncing off the walls, rattling around inside of empty crevices, and squeezing through the crack in the door. Had ought to rumble its way across the building, down the street, and right into the unwitting ears of your team. Freshly deployed. Chasing the false scent of the very man between your legs.

Sure wonder what they would think if they walked in and saw this.

The obscene pressure of a werewolf's hard cock, straining against his sweats, pressing deliciously against your fluttering cunt. Your legs coiling impossibly tighter around his bony waist, sharp hip bones digging into the plush fat of your thighs, fingers trailing up the back of his neck, across short-clipped hair, to tangle in the longer strands at the top.

His warm nose bumps against your cheek. Blindly guiding himself back to your mouth, sloppy and lazy, little wet noises punctuating every motion, razor-sharp canines nipping at your bottom lip. Such an otherworldly sensation that has your head spinning so fast you fear you'll fall, arms tightening around his shoulders.

"Four times has gotta be some kind of record," Bob's tone rumbles through you like thunder, shaking your bones like fragile leaves in the wind. The cold rims of his glasses bump into you as he draws away, darkened eyes drinking you up like a glass of water in the middle of a sweltering desert.

Your head falls back against the locker, sucking in a breath. "Maybe for you," squirming. Grinding down into the bulge of his cock, absolutely and unequivocally unashamed of putting on a show for him.

"Keep telling yourself that," stupid wolf with his stupid, dumb head tilt. You can almost picture the puppy ears flopping over, begging for a good scratch. Part of you wonders if his leg would twitch if you found the right spot.

But you certainly don't mean to actually let your fingers slide from his hair and behind his ear. Blunt nails scratching at the skin there, blessed by the sound of his soft inhale. Eyelashes flutter. A boot kicks the floor. Defiantly holding himself together.

Those sharp teeth glint in the moonlight as his mouth opens. "Gonna be in so much trouble if they catch us."

Funny, you very nearly forgot about them already. Jake, Bradley, Nat. All chasing down a scent you massaged into the fur of a semi-feral feline last night. They'll find the little calico here soon. Jake and Bradley will start arguing over who's in the right; Nat will get fed up and call for backup. If there's anything you know about Javy, it's that he'll be up and have the cat found before the spat is settled.

You only have so much time before they return, badgering you about another bad scent. Even less time to get this wild-eyed werewolf in you. Devilish, you draw yourself closer to him. Nose to nose. Legs so tight around him that your bones ache. "What, not keen on telling a group of werewolf hunters you're a—fuck," it hasn't even been that long since the last time you felt his cock twitch into you. There's no reason it should have you getting wet like this. "Werewolf?"

He stumbles forward. Knocking you into the lockers again. Big hands squeezing greedy handfuls of your ass. "Call me a prude, but I ain't much for being hunted, honeycomb."

On their own, his hips roll forward. Impossibly strong arms working double time to draw you into it. And you're so, so certain that there's a wet spot staining your shorts right now. A sick mixture of your own wetness and his cum dripping out of your abused cunt, damn near sore from how many times he's filled you up today.

And yet, it's still not enough. "You really think they'd hurt you?" Your voice almost strained. Weary hand reaching between your heated bodies. Sliding those flimsy shorts out of the way, relishing in the hitch of his breath, all over the sight of your pussy.

"I don't wanna find out," he grunts, and for a second, you think he's gonna drool.

Your index finger slips between your folds. Gathering up your wetness, skin glistening with it, as your hand rises to his mouth. You don't need to ask for him to part his lips, letting two of your fingers slip past. His hot, wet tongue is so, so soft compared to the canines that brush against your knuckles. Sucks on them a little too eagerly, so content with your taste that his eyes fall shut.

"Then you'd better hurry up, puppy," you murmur, catching his tongue between your fingers. He can get away at any moment, and yet, he makes no move to.

Far too gentle, compared to the out-of-control, bloodthirsty werewolf stereotype.

"Quit calling me that," his speech is a little garbled, talking without a fully operational tongue. But he's reaching down, pushing at the thick band of his sweats, heavy cock damn near falling out of its confines. So flushed and swollen that you reckon it's gotten bigger since the last time you saw it. Audibly slaps against your cunt, between your parted folds, right where he ought to stay for the rest of his life.

Or, rather, where he ought to stay after he's done with you.

Bobby has to draw himself back by a damn mile to stroke his big, blunt head down your core, nudging politely at your entrance. You're still so loose, opening easily as he presses into you. Thick, pink tip stretching you wide, bullying his way back into your overfucked, needy pussy.

A noise draws out of your lips. Starstruck by the drag of his cock, big enough to make the dry, unlubricated glide feel like it's going to split you open. Would hurt if you weren't dripping around him, an obscene mixture of lube and cum spilling out of your pussy, coating him once more.

"That's it," you breathe, head tilting back, "good boy."

A pitchy whine slices through the air.

You haven't heard that one before.

Opening your eyes is damn near impossible, and yet, you're finding the strength to force them open. Immediately focusing on his flushed face. "What?" Your giggle is strained. Lungs suddenly too tight. "You like it when I call you that?"

He nods a little too eagerly. "Uhuh."

It's not fair.

Truly, it isn't. He shouldn't be allowed to bat those long, innocent lashes at you. Not when his oversized cock has your pussy aching as he sinks into you. It's a damn wonder he's fit the past three times because he's barely halfway in, and you're already struggling. Hands scurrying behind his neck, nails biting into the lithe muscle of his shoulders. Lungs seeming to shrink with every inch you take of him, running out of space for oxygen.

"'m I hurting you?" He whispers in that fragile tone of his, glasses glinting as he tilts his head forward.

Your head is shaking before he can even begin to stall his hips. "N...no."

"Your nose is scrunched like it is," and as if you could have possibly forgotten where it's located on your face, Bobby leans in and bumps his nose against yours. So damn warm compared to this chilly little locker room; feels like you've cozied up to a furnace rather than a man.

Defiant, your head tilts forward, foreheads knocking together. "Because you're big, dummy."

His eyelashes flutter. "Oh." Struck dumb.

As if he possibly could have deluded himself into believing that every man on this planet walks around hung like a damn horse. Even you had known it. Could see the fat outline of him in those thin sweats he loves. Blissfully unaware of the way his cock makes its presence known as he walks.

But he's finally, finally bottoming out in you. Not a damn millimeter of space left for him to fill, sweaty skin flush against your ass. It's a damn wonder that you haven't started waddling from the amount of times you've felt this very sensation today. Once in the comfort of your bed. Again, in the break room, after you got the call that everyone else would be late. And when you'd dared to venture into Bob's office, perching yourself in his lap, kissing beneath his ear until he cracked and let you ride him.

Fatigue has only recently started to settle into your bones, and by the looks of it, Bob is feeling it, too. Pretty eyes closed, completely and utterly uninterested in moving. You'd think he was asleep if he didn't suck in a breath when you involuntarily clench around him.

"Too tired to fuck me, Robby?" You murmur, raising a hand to comb through his messy hair, ruined by your own doing.

He hums, twitching out of you a little, only to push back in just as lazily, "thought ya might be sore."

"What," stars sparkle behind your eyelids; he's rubbing against that overworked bundle of nerves on every slow pass of his cock, "makes you think that?"

"Earlier," pumping into you a little faster now, finding that same old rhythm that never seems to lose its dizzying charm, "you were muttering about me bruising your pussy."

That...

"You heard that?" You could have sworn you'd muttered that while you were cleaning up last time.

When he was on the other side of the room.

"I hear a lotta things," chirping, all too friendly. There's no reason why a man should smile so innocently while his hips are smacking into your ass, "like you whining my name in your hotel room last Tuesday."

Images flicker through your memory. The coziness of an expensive hotel bed. Soft blankets and an even softer, golden glow of the bedside lamp in a room all to yourself. Wrapped up in a false sense of privacy as your hand ventured below your waistband.

He'd heard you through the damn wall?

But you can't even be mad because he's squeezing you a little tighter. Every thrust of his hips bounces your body further up the lockers. Knocking the breath out of your lungs. A weakened whine twisting through the quiet air. Too intimate of a sound to be in a communally shared room.

"And you wonder why I hate most werewolves," writhing. Arms tightening around his shoulders. Heels digging into the meat of his ass. "What else can you do? Smell when I'm turned on?"

"Uhuh," his obedient head nods. Such an unassuming motion that has you clamping down around him. Rips a groan right out of his broad chest.

His hips shift. The slightest change in angle, and yet he's driving right up into those nerves. Plush tip massaging them head-on. Has you fluttering around him like a damn butterfly. Sent into a never-ending spasm.

"Fuck," you wail. Nails biting into his soft neck. "Bobby!"

And you're vaguely aware of the way he's looking up at you. Big puppy eyes, in utter awe of the sight before him. "There?"

You're nodding before you've even recognized what he's asking. Clinging to him. Squeezing his big, overheated body to yours like he'll vanish if you don't. Worst of all, he lets you—pretty face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, the rims of his glasses digging into your flesh, where you can hug him even closer. Your cheek squishing against the side of his head.

"Good boy," gasping into his ear, "keep doing that."

A shiver races down his spine. Mouthing at the side of your neck. Whimpering beneath his heaving breath. The oversized palms that cling to your ass beginning to shiver. Slippery with sweat and struggling to maintain his grip. Growling low in his chest, suddenly sharp nails poking and prodding against your flesh as something within him switches gears.

You know it has because the tips of his ears are growing unnaturally fuzzy. Pointed. And in the time it takes for your hand to reach them, they've already turned. Looks as if the ears of a wolf have been glued to the sides of his head. Twisting and turning, sensitive and reacting to every involuntary noise that falls off your tongue.

"Bobby—" you choke. Squirming. Fighting for a glance at his flushed face. Have to tangle your fingers in his hair and yank his face right out of your neck. And he's...

magnificent.

Glasses smudged by spit and sweat and hopelessly fogged. Strands of soaked hair cling to his glistening forehead. Mouth agape. Impossibly sharp canines glint in the poor lighting. Pink tongue on the verge of lolling out past his lips like a damn domesticated dog, panting in the summer heat.

And yet, as you push his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, you find that his eyes are the same shade of sky blue. Wide and so, so eager.

His feet shift, leaning away. You back presses harder against the lockers. A gap forms between your bodies. Just enough for your hand to let go of his hair and dart between. Diving past the hem of your shirt, clinging to your clammy skin, stopping just above his pistoning cock, to find your sore and overused clit. A tingle bolts up your spine.

"Fuck, you're—" Bobby's eyes screw shut. Grunting low in his chest. A guttural, animalistic noise you've only heard him make once. "Clenching around me so fucking...mhm, shit."

You reckon he can feel your sudden contraction as well as you can feel the fat swell of his cock head. Driving into you impossibly deeper. As if this sudden wolfiness has made him larger than he was before. His angle hasn't shifted, but his oversized tip rubs right into your g-spot with a vigor that makes your legs tremble around his hips. Head spinning. Tipping back to hit the locker door.

"Robby, Robby, keep, keep—," babbling. Cut short. He's listening. He's listening. Rubbing right into those little nerves over and over and over. You're not sure if the heat coiling in your belly is from his cock or your fingers. "Fuck, good boy."

"You gotta quit calling me that," he pants, sentence fractured by a choked moan, "gonna have me following you like a lost puppy for the rest of your life."

He'd look cute with a little blue collar that matches his eyes. But you can't hang onto that idea for long.

"I don't mind the," gasping, "idea of that."

Your body is beginning to tense. Too hot for this little room. The coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock. Pussy squelching with the motion of him, so damn wet that you fear you're dripping onto the floor below. And Bobby is whimpering again. Pitchy little noises that you can't believe are coming from your cunt being wrapped around him.

His pretty mouth can't stay shut. Already opening again. "I'm...I...I'm—"

"Uhuh," is all you can manage. Struggling to keep your eyes open. Legs growing tighter and tighter around him until, until, until—

Your back arches off the lockers with a silent cry. Thrust up into the clouds. Head spinning like a top. Spasming and cumming around his big, oversized cock without another warning. And you're only vaguely aware of the way he cries out at the feeling. Hips stuttering to a halt. Filling your well fucked pussy with his cum for the fourth time today. Twitching inside you. His head falling back into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

It may not have been your most intense orgasm of today, but it does take you some time to come down. Brought back to earth by the kisses against your clammy skin and the nimble fingers that massage the plush swell of your ass.

Bobby looks normal again. Not a single wolfish feature to be found. Back to your same old, soft-eyed tech guy. The one who has deceived you into thinking he was human for so, so many years. Probably would have been able to keep up the act, too, had you not crossed the boundary between friends and lovers.

Abrupt, his head snaps up. Those wolf ears are back. Twisting and turning like little radar dishes.

"Shit," he snarls, and before you're even ready, he's sliding out of you. Cum already beginning to spill down your thighs.

"What?" You're helpless. Don't realize you've been placed back on the floor until he's led you halfway across the room. "Bobby, what is it?"

"Jake. Bradley." Short. Straight to the point. "Down the hall. Coming this way."

There's a tiny janitor's closet in the corner of the locker room—barely big enough for one body to fit inside of it, never mind two. Not the ideal hiding spot, but with no other exit, you've got no choice. It's either hide or be caught.

You can only hope that there isn't a noticeable mess on the floor. Or, worse, a trail leading all the way to the door.

The door to the locker room squeals open just as the closet closes. Your weary head struggling to catch up to speed, still processing the drop to the floor and the the things Bob has just said to you. Hell. The only reason you notice his arms are around is, is because of the wayward finger that dips beneath your shirt, stroking your skin.

Jake and Bradley are talking. The rumble of the voices is clear, but you can't make out a word that they're saying. It must be something funny because they're laughing. All too loud, uncaring of who they may disturb with their volume or where their voices may wander in the building.

For a moment, you're afraid to breathe. Worrying about the hammering of your heart. As if they could possibly hear the tiny thump of it in your chest.

Bob's spent cock bumps into your hip. Still free of his confines. Wet with an obscene mixture of his cum and your wetness. Proof of your rendezvous. Frankly, you couldn't bring yourself to go another round, even if you got your hands on a magical reset button. But you can't help but notice that you haven't felt the glide of him against your tongue in such a long while...

Surely, Jake and Bradley won't hear if you...sink to your knees, here...just for a minute or two...

"What are you doing?" Bob whispers, barely audible, even to you. Eyes wide as you reach for him. "You can't—are you serious right now?"

But kicking up a fuss will get the two of you caught. A risk he can't afford to take. Not with those big, wolfish ears still twisting and turning on the sides of his head. The very thing you've all been gathered here to eliminate.

Daring, your tongue pokes out of your mouth.

The slam of Jake's locker washes over Bob's sharp inhale. Too sensitive for the hellish sensation of your hot tongue dragging against the underside of him.

His hands rise. Both of them clamping down over his mouth. Eyes screwed shut.

There's a tremor to him that wasn't there before—shaking like a lone leaf in the wind. Helpless to do anything but let you keep licking at him. Long strokes of your tongue. Gathering the sweet mess that clings to his cock. Who could have thought that an identifying characteristic of North American werewolves is sweet cum? You sure didn't until he'd cum in your mouth that first time.

Hell, he didn't even know.

It's too dark to see his face, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your shoulders. Hips twitching away, but never making the move to push your head away. Helpless to let you clean his pretty cock with your tongue, from base to tip.

If there was light in here, you're certain he would be shimmering with your saliva by now.

Whatever it was Jake and Bradley needed to do, it didn't seem to take them long. Their boots clomp across the floor. Lockers slamming shut. Loud, muffled voices grow faint as they meander down the corridor, surely heading to their vehicles, looking forward to a well-deserved day off tomorrow.

You suppose Bob has heard the back door chime because his hands fly off his mouth.

He's fortunate that you're too tired to push him much further. Gathering up the last of him. And just for extra measure, you allow yourself the simple pleasure of wrapping your swollen lips around his tip. Teasing his slit. Sucking gently.

"You can't just," he babbles, sweaty hand pawing at the side of your face, "baby, baby, 's too much, it's too—"

His cock twitches. A splash of cum hits your tongue. A heavy puff of breath sounds from above.

He's pushing your head away before you can even begin to do it yourself.

"Monster," his chest heaves as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"I could say the same about what you just put away," you grin. Rising back up to your feet. He wipes that expression off your lips with a big, wet kiss.

His ears are back to normal, much to your dismay. No fluffiness present to greet your fingers as your hands cup the sides of his face, bringing him back in for one, two, three, four more kisses.

And as you slip back into the locker room, you're greeted with a sheet of printer paper taped to the lockers. And in big, messy handwriting, it reads, "Who's been fucking in here?" With a list of possible culprits at the bottom. Their votes have already been cast, accusing Mickey and Rueben by leaving scraggly check marks next to their names.

"Damn," Bob's brows furrow, incredulous, "my name didn't even make the list." He grumbles, already reaching for the discarded pen.

You can hardly swallow down your giggle. "That just means there's more for us to get away with, my dear." Speaking as innocently as you can. Batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes roll.

"I'm gonna dress as an old lady and eat you if you keep quoting that darn fable," but he's laughing. Tossing that pen back where he found it. Already reaching for your hand, squeezing it in his own. And with a limp in both of your steps, you venture back into the hallway and out into the parking lot. Already conjuring up your next big escapade before you can even tumble into the front seat of his truck.

This time, you reckon that you and he should go chasing a false werewolf scent for some fun in the woods. You've even got the little red coat to fit the occasion. The exact same shade of Bob's cheeks as you reveal your idea to him.

And in two days' time, when you all flood into the locker room to change, Jake will point at the tiny, squished inscription of Bob's name on the list and laugh. How funny is that? Somebody really thought their quiet wallflower tech guy was the culprit!

All Bob can do is look your way and flash you that big, wolfish grin. Unusually sharp canines and all.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #werewolf au #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

183 notes · View notes

ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Y/N wakes up next to Alcina for the first time

Y/N: *Eyes slowly open, starts on those first juicy asthma coughs of the morning (You know, the ones that sound like a car backfiring)*

Alcina: *Startles awake from Y/N’s hacking* Draga! That sounds terrible! Are you getting sick? I can-

Y/N: *Stretches and literally all the joints in their body pop and crack, it sounds like a building being blown apart*

Alcina: *Fucking dives into the floor by the side of her bed* Y/N! The castle is under attack! *Peeks her head out to look at Y/N, sobbing fearfully* Are you okay?!

Y/N: *Lets out a big ass yawn that sounds like a lion roaring, jaw clicking like a ballpoint pen*

Alcina: *Squeaks and ducks down again, whispers loudly at Y/N* I think there’s some kind of wild animal in here too!

Y/N: *Laughs at Alcina* Relax, babe! It’s just my morning wake-up routine. I gotta cough my brains out and pop my CRoNcHy bones, that’s all.

Alcina: *Pokes her head up at Y/N, stands up cautiously, looks around the room* Are you trying to tell me that all of that horrifying noise came from your tiny little human body??

Y/N: Yes’m! *Grabs their head and violently cracks their neck*

Alcina: *Cowers in fright again* Good Lord, Y/N! You sound like you’re about to fall apart at any moment! Are you sure you’re alright?

Y/N: Yep! Everything in my body is on fire and I feel like I was run over by a pick-up truck, but that’s normal! *Waves a hand at Alcina dismissively*

Alcina: …

Y/N: …

Alcina: …

Y/N: ???

Alcina: *A true drama queen, flops down on her bed, crying, wraps Y/N in like ten blankets and cradles them* MY PoOr BaAaBbYYyy!

Note: I feel like Alcina would be a great gf to an S/O who has a chronic illness UwU She had one too before the cadou after all…

(I think that’s why she’s such a comfort character for me 🤔)

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #y/n is stupid #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #resident evil village #resident evil 8

84 notes · View notes

desswright29 · 7 months

Note

Here is the Tish and friends drabble.. i hope you guys don’t hate it.. i am not a writer lol

Letitia invites her stud friends over to watch Ramlas fight! She’s got drinks and you know this girl loves playing games so she created a little drinking game to play during the fight! Just to keep things interesting! My girl does love her drama.. 🤭so the play to the game goes as follows: when ramla knocks a good punch you take a sip, when she gets one given to her, you take a sip. And if a fighter gets K.O. You drink the whole glass. Everyone cheers and takes an initial shot before they get into the game. (Bruv Letitia is serving straight tequila don julio) you know these bitches bout to be fucked up! And not Letitia drinking water!!! 🤣

Jojo asks Letitia.. “is Fidji gonna be ok with you staying up and drinking with us all night?”

“Fidji Who?” Tish scoffs.

Jojo looks at her in shock as the other girls laugh and exchange looks 👀😅

“Nah nah, I’m playing shes in the room studying for her board exam. We just gotta keep it moderately quiet, but we good..” she cheeses with all 32 teeth! 😁

“But yea tonight is calm. It’s just the mandem drinking drinks, and watching the fight! Let’s get it!” She expresses before flopping down on the sofa between her bros.

Jojo had been spending so much time with Tish lately that she even agreed to let her stay a couple months, whilst jojo was getting her kitchen renovated. So they got super close and Tish was cool with her being in the know about her relationship with fidji but the other girls didn’t know to what extent Tish was fond of fidji. They think they’re all just best friends and jojo and fidji just stay over a lot cuz Tish hates being alone in her big house.

So surprisely enough, when one of her friends found a red lace bra in between the couch, Jojo quickly claimed it as being her girlfriends and they were making out on the couch one night. Everyone believed her and didn’t question whether it could have been fidji’s. But Tish and jojo knew better. 😉

“My bad Tish.. and yo bro lemme get that man you holding my ladies tings a lil too long friend!” she reaches out to the one who found it..

They get on with the game.. taking shots cuz it’s punches being thrown left and right. Ramla is looking good in the ring, her form is tight, her punches landing. Tish is imitating her moves. Showing off her muscles as she swings! “Man I can’t wait to start filming this! I’m gonna look so bad ass in this movie bro, it’s gonna be sick!”

Jojo teases “you gotta get thru sparring training first bro”

“I’m getting better, you ain’t seen my last sparring match cuz u was at the BOSS show in Paris with so and so(***) and you missed it. I almost K.O. Coach. But that’s what he gets for knocking my chin last time! Left a scar and everything! Had me looking like I be getting sucker punched in front of kehlani”

“I told my man’s before we started, not the face! This where I make my money! He said this is boxing! I’m knocking ya head off! Hands up!” Tish recollects as she motions her blocking stance.”

“And what he do? Knock ya head off” jojo laughed as she tapped Letitia’s chin with a light jab.. “that’s why I feel no shame getting my lick back!” Tish said as she switched in and out of her British-Guyanese accent.

She boasted a bit more before starting the fight back up.. they were watching an old fight of Ramlas on YouTube. Tish was back to imitating her moves and swinging in the air, showing off to her now drunk as hell friends who are laughing and cheering her on. She really is putting on a whole performance, presenting her full masculinity for display. She had the girls shook becuz they never seen her have so much BDE, they questioned where all that masc energy came out of such a sweet petite woman. But she carried it well. And it flowed so effortlessly out of her..

fidji came out of the room to see what all the fuss was. Tish was throwing quick jabs, flashing her muscles, and prancing around the floor as if squaring up with an opponent. As soon as she saw fidji she froze.. Like Ta’chala.

“Girl ain’t you supposed to be studying?” She tried to play off her sudden nervousness by switching over to her American accent. Fidji mimicked her “ain’t you supposed to be watching the fight.. not fighting the air?”

Everyone laughed.. including Tish. She loved how fidji wasn’t afraid to crack jokes on her, cuz Tish loves to laugh and clown and bring light into a situation. Fidji walked over to the couch and took a seat on the empty sectional corner. She motioned Tish to join her explaining that she couldn’t concentrate cuz of all the noise so she rather just come out here and have fun with everyone. They settled their dispute with a quick agreement in their eyes and they got cozy as everyone continued watching the game.

The atmosphere changed and Tish got all soft, polar opposite than how she was acting before. She kept checking on fidji to make sure she was good.. being extra sweet and attentive. “You got enough of the blanket love?… You gotta get up early you shouldn’t be taking shots with us.. let me get you some water… babe you think I could beat her in a fight? I been training and coach says I’m getting better, what u think?” Just in complete need of Fidji’s validation in the cutest way. The bros thought it was the corniest thing ever, and were definitely clowning her like “Bro where was all that 10 minutes ago when you was in the 8th round with the air??” One of them asked. She shushed them and ignored her friends and continued to dote about with fidji. As her drunk friends were now more entertained with what them two had going on than they were in the fight! But Tish is too smooth, she liquored them up while she drank water the whole time, so none of them will remember this tomorrow. So for now she can flirt in peace! 😌

What y’all think?

#dess asks #letitia wright #letitiawright

8 notes · View notes

broken-clover · 11 months

Note

SolAxl sick fic I need it

Certainly! Love these idiots. Using the fire magic again because I'm sorry I just like using it for cute things. I'm put at a bit of a loss for scenarios like this because I don't think Sol can get sick unless I dig really deep for something but I will not resist the chance to knock Axl around a little bit. I promise I still love him, I just like putting him in Situations

Putting it under the cut + content warning for vomiting

Sol waited for the sound of lurching to stop before he knocked on the door. “You still alive?”

“‘Preciate the sympathy, chief. Feelin’ real touched, here.” A groan seeped through the slit at the bottom.

He resisted an irritated groan of his own. “Gonna puke on me if I come in?”

“I mean, I got half a mind to-” The groaning turned into a tired sigh. “Nah, ‘m all done, pretty sure. Don’t suppose you’ve got a napkin or somethin’?”

“There’s no paper towels in there?” Sol crossed his arms, leaning against the wall.

After a moment, he could make out the sound of shuffling. “Shit. Yeah, you’re right, it does. Been stuck with my head halfway down a toilet for twenty minutes, ain’t exactly been looking anywhere else.”

“Dunno why you’re trying to justify it to me, I don’t really ca-”

It should not have been a surprise, but as soon as he opened the door, Sol was hit with an awful, rancid smell. Goddamn Gear senses, only time he ever seemed to notice them these days was when it was a pain in his ass. Axl’s pitiful expression only slightly dampened the scowl on his face.

“Evenin’, chief.” He greeted him with a sarcastic two-finger salute. “What brings ya out here on a night like this?”

“Funny you should ask. Was just supposed to have a night of drinks, then some dumbass started throwing up on everything.”

“Way to kick a bloke when he’s down.” Axl shook his head. He took a stack of paper towels as they were handed to him and started mopping at his face. “Got most of it toilet, tried m’ best.”

“Don’t tell that t’ me, tell it to the sods that’ve gotta mop this place.”

His companion merely groaned again, wrapping a free hand around his ribs. “Dunno what the hell got me, ain’t had anything this bad in ages.”

“Knowing you, it’s probably just a hangover.” Sol said.

Axl gave him a halfhearted scowl. “Oi, oi, I’ve had enough hangovers ta’ know what a hangover feels like. This ain’t it. Somethin’ going round? Hell, maybe the fish from yesterday, knew it tasted too chewy…”

The man’s hands shook as he tried to clean. Reluctantly, Sol grabbed his own stack of towels and knelt down to assist. “Reeks enough, either way.”

“Yeah, sorry, mate. Not exactly my idea of fun either.” Both men continued to clean. As he attempted to turn and wipe a spot on the wall, Axl suddenly jerked back and whimpered, cradling his ribs. “Ugh, fuck. Worst part ain’t even the puking, it’s the damn soreness. Can get the taste outta my mouth, but just my luck this is gonna hurt ‘til tomorrow.”

Sol stopped. He threw the paper into the trash can. “Screw it, they can clean the rest of this shit up, they actually get paid.”

He dragged Axl to his feet before he could argue, only offering the slightest restraint to avoid fucking up the man’s insides any more than they already were.

“Chief-”

“If y’ throw up on me after all, I’m gonna leave you here.”

Despite his gruffness, they made it back to their room without much fuss. Axl shed his stained shirt and only remembered to kick off his shoes at the last moment before flopping into bed. Sol toed them out of the way and perched on the bedside. “Move.”

“Eh?” Axl glanced over his shoulder, one arm still wrapped around himself. “Figured you were gonna head back down for a couple more rounds, I was just gonna try ‘n sleep this off.”

“I know you’re gonna bitch about it all night unless I do something about it. Scoot your ass over.”

Confused, but obliging, the man squirmed until he was closer to the other side of the bed, leaving enough space for another person to slip in. That didn’t mean it was the most loose fit either, though. As soon as Sol made his way into bed with him, they were forced chest-to-back against each other with only a couple of inches in spare space. Sol was not a particularly small man, nor was he one to try and downplay that fact.

Axl could feel the heat radiating through cloth. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but something about it right then felt far more compromising than it usually did. It was hard to think of a better position, given how things were. Would trying to roll over be more or less awkward? Hell, could he even get that far without elbowing his bedmate in the face or making himself throw up again?

A hand draped around his waist. That wasn’t as familiar. Sol didn’t give him enough time to be confused by it, though, as he dragged his fingers upward. He traced lazy circles into the man’s belly and up his ribcage, summoning just the smallest hint of fire magic to make it feel like a heat pack against his skin. The motion had pulled the two of them even closer than they already had been, with Sol curving along with the slope of his spine and radiating even more heat against his back.

“You ain’t worried about getting this, too?”

“Gear-powered immune system. It’ll just bounce right off.”

“Ain’t you a lucky sonuva- mhhhh…” Axl suddenly sighed, placing one hand atop Sol’s. “Right there, riiight there. That’s the spot.”

#Frog Writes #ask #guilty gear #sol badguy #axl low #solaxl #vomiting #sickfic

16 notes · View notes

robinofgothamcity · 3 years

Text

♡ "the next time i see you, it'll be in hell" / "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me"

♡ pairing: connor kent (superboy/RotS) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i was listening to 'esa hembra es mala' by gloria trevi so if you do speak spanish, that's a song rec while you read this fic. if you don't, listen to 'hermit the frog' by marina instead!

"connor please, you're giving ME a headache and it's only seven in the morning," his friend, jake, spoke as his hands covered his face, "wait, shut up, who is that?" connor asked, seeing you with a few friends.

jake sighed, "that's ( your name )," he spoke softly, "she's friends with everyone here. some like her, some can't stand her. it all depends on how she feels with you." you were schools resident 'popular' girl and had a bit of a following among your class.

"i'm gonna go talk to her," connor said. his friends eyes widened, "connor no!" jake screamed, grabbing his friend and pulling him back, "she's a complete bitch, don't do it!" jake exclaimed as he could tell that everything he was saying was going over connor's head.

you fixed the newspaper that had superboy's face plastered on the cover, "i just think that superboy could beat robin if i'm being honest. PLUS he's attractive because you can actually see his face," the day old conversation between you and your friends about who was the better sidekick struck up again and anyone who knew you knew how much you adored superboy.

"hey ladies," you turned to look at the boy, confused on who he was as you had never seen him around school. you gave him a small smile, "uh, hi?" you asked, "do i know you?"

the boy who approached you was wearing sunglasses which threw you off considering your school didn't allow anyone to wear them inside the building. you looked to his other friend, recognizing him as someone you had in your Calc class.

"just wanted to introduce myself, i'm connor," he said, giving you a sly smirk. you shook his hand, half awkwardly, "please i'm ( your name )," you replied as you saw the way connor gave jake a wink, "is there something you wanted or?" you asked again, not knowing why he was still here.

"no, just wanted to say hi to my future girlfriend," you let out a laugh, catching everyone off guard, "please, as if," you replied as you grabbed your friends and walked away, kind of taken back by the new boy.

"he was kinda cute," one of your friends said as you rolled your eyes, "uh, not really? kinda weird if you ask me," you replied, looking down at the newspaper, "well, i'm going to class, see ya," you said, walked towards your AP Lit class.

you sat down in the front, immediately talking to the friends you had in the class. it wasn't even five minutes later when connor entered the class, immediately smirking when he saw you. you growled, instantly annoyed at his expression.

"ah, so you've met the resident new boy?" you nodded as your friend giggled, "he's really nice. made more than a friends already," she said as you shrugged, "okay and? he had a lot of nerve coming up to me and telling me i'd be his future girlfriend," you replied.

she let out a belting laugh, "yeah, he told meghan from fifth period the same thing," you saw connor walking up to your desk and before he could make himself comfortable next to you, you instantly put your leg on the chair, "don't even think about it," you said, not even looking at him, "the desk in the back is available though," you smirked as you watched your teacher roll her eyes at your attitude.

connor bent down to your level, "don't gotta be so hostile, sweetheart, i know you like me," he whispered before getting up and leaving.

your friend, looked at you, laughing at disbelief at both of your attitudes. you rolled your eyes, trying to pay attention to the discussion as you could feel connor's eyes on you almost the entire time.

throughout the weeks and going into months, your relationship with connor didn't change. he arguably became the biggest pain your ass from the beginning of the day until the final bell rang. he managed to befriend a few of your friends which meant that you were around him at times.

you sipped your coffee as you were reading the newest article on superboy, "ah, ah, ah, what do we have here?" connor asked, taking the magazine from your hand, "superboy fan, huh?" he scanned the cover, a smug smirk coming onto his face as you snatched the magazine back.

"yeah, someone who's actually useful in life," you replied as he walked with you to your locker. he had never saw the inside of it and taken back by the amount of photos you had....of him, "aww, don't be that way, sweetheart! maybe one day superboy will actually give you a chance," he joked.

your annoyance instantly shot up as you slammed your locker and walking away, "see ya later sweetie!" he screamed. you stopped in the middle of the hall and flicked him off, "the next time i'll see you, it'll be in hell!" you yelled, storming off to class.

you walked into class, sitting down as your friend, henry, walked up to you, "hey babe," he said, a warm feeling crossing your face at the term of endearment, "hey henry, what're you up to?" you asked, seeing him looking at you, a bit nervously now.

"i was wondering if you were free-," before henry could say anything else, connor walked up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. he had heard the conversation between the two of you and knew exactly where it was heading, "uh, she's not interested, better luck next time," connor stated, surprising henry with his sudden angry attitude.

henry knowing he didn't want to risk the chance of getting his ass kicked walked away from the conversation as you stared at connor with rage in your eyes, "what do you want?" you seethed as you saw connor's smirk playing on his face, "you weren't actually entertaining him, were you?" he asked in disbelief, "i literally hate you with every ounce of my being," you blurted, finally sick of connor's attitude.

his mouth hung open as you got up from the desk, "do me a favor and PLEASE leave me alone, that's all i ask," you stated as you walked out of class and deciding to ditch for the rest of the day.

"told you she was gonna blow up," jake informed as he sat down in his seat, connor still standing in place, taking in everything you had said. he knew he was being a bit of an ass but he didn't know you were that angry with him.

connor knew he had to make this up. he genuinely did like you and he didn't want to ruin his chances with you because of his shitty attitude. throughout the class period, he picked his brain for ideas until sirens went off in his head.

SUPERBOY.

he knew you were practically in love with his alter ego and he knew he could use superboy as a way to persuade you into giving him another chance. that is if he played his cards right.

you reluctantly showed up the next day, trying to avoid connor as best as you could. you were talking with a few friends, gossiping about the fight that superboy and robin had against a few low level villains in metropolis last night.

"hey, look at connor," jake whispered, seeing his friend practically beat up. you were taken back by his appearance as he had a few bruises on his arms and legs, "are you okay?" jake asked connor.

connor shook his head slowly, his body still recovering from the night before, "what were yall talking about?" he asked, trying to redirect the conversation. everyone looked to you, "someone was gushing about superboy, so please, if you'd continue," meghan said playfully.

"oh shut up, like you don't have robin posters all over your room," you retorted as you watched connor struggling to stay upright, "all i'm saying is that superboy remains the best sidekick there is. did you see the way he walked out of that fight scratchless and look at robin, he nearly died," you continued.

meghan instantly retorted as you noticed how eerily silent connor had became. you turned over to him, about to say something sarcastic towards him until he flopped on top of you, passing out completely. you looked down at him, "connor?" you whispered, "hey connor, wake up," you whispered, shaking him a bit.

"take him to the nurse!" jake yelled at you as you grabbed connor by the arm and pulling him against you, "fuck off, he's heavy as hell," you breathed, trying to steady his weight against you before walking slowly towards the nurse.

you made the walk to the nurse but by the time you made it, connor had woken up, "don't take me to the nurse, please," he whispered, "what are you talking about?" you exclaimed, "you clearly aren't okay and you don't look okay either," you added on.

he steered the two of you to the family bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit, "clean me up here, i really don't want to be questioned right now," he said, nothing cocky or playful in his voice. you sat him on the toilet, bending down to clean his face first, "hey, is everything okay....you know at home?" you asked.

he laughed, shaking his head, "these injuries aren't from my guardians if that's what you're wondering. i kinda got into a fight last night," you stared at him confused, "did you lose or something? these injuries look horrible," you replied.

"course i did, just took a nasty beating before i won," he said as he flinched at the rubbing alcohol hitting his arm. you muttered a sorry as you put a band-aid on a few of his cuts, "listen, i wanted to say sorry for acting like a prick," connor muttered a few minutes later.

you were taken back by his apology, "i knew i was being an ass but please don't take this as me joking but you're actually the best thing that's happened to me since i transferred," you remained silent, not knowing to respond as you put the last band-aid on his knee.

"and if i could have a second chance, that would be super dope, ya know?" he tried to say without sounding nervous, "you better not be joking, kent," you threatened, putting your finger on his chest and shoving him a bit.

connor flinched back in pain as you muttered a sorry, "i'm not joking, i'd really like to take you out for coffee sometime," he asked as he grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss. you agreed as you responded with a kiss on his cheek, "also, i had this lying around my room and figured you'd like it more than i would," he dug into his backpack and gave you a magazine.

your eyes widen seeing what it was. it was the magazine that superboy first appeared in and you had analyzed a few signatures of his to know that it was his signature on the front, "did superboy sign this?" you practically tried to contain your excitement as you ran your finger over the sharpie.

connor nodded, "i met him one time after he saved a few people in metropolis last year and got him to sign the magazine. i figured since you like hm a lot more than i do, you'd take care of it better than i would," overwhelmed with excitement, you grabbed connor by the neck and kissed him.

connor was taken back by the sudden kiss but awkwardly responded with another kiss as you held the magazine close to your chest, "i can't thank you enough for this connor," you whispered, your lips still on his a bit. he chuckled, "just meet me at the coffee shop near the school and that'll suffice," he replied, giving you another kiss before slowly getting up.

"now lets get to our second period before we get marked truant again," he grabbed your hand and held it as softly as possible, "you know how much shit our friends are gonna give us, right?" you said, laughing a bit. connor nodded, "nothing we can't handle," he replied as he squeezed your hand in reassurance.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #connor kent #connor kent imagine #connor kent x reader #connor kent x you #comics

196 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Ok so what sbout remus/sirius being too sick to go to an away game so the other one has to go alone, and then tons of facetime conversations and "get well soon" videos from the team?

This is related to this fic about Remus and Finn bonding over terrible reporters--hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, and the Loops/ Talker bonding is for @lee-1012!

TW for illness

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

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

The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.

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

“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?”

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.

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

Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”

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

Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #thomas walker #talker #james potter #lily potter #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #sick fic

257 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 3 years

Note

12. “I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.” intwuwogical 👀 🥺

(Hi, sorry for the delay! Thanks to @subtlereferencetomyinterests for the pun!)

Words: 2951

Logan didn’t expect any visitors.

It was always easy to slip through the cracks after an argument. Everyone was always preoccupied--with grudges, with apologies, with their own accelerated heartrates. It often took days for the situation to resolve itself, and it always went quicker when Logan was there to help.

Maybe Logan should help. But instead, he was in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

He’d taken off his tie--he couldn’t stand the feeling of it around his neck--and loosened his collar. The room was a mess of half-finished papers and crumbling corkboards. His hair was unwashed and his glasses were covered in crud.

Logan didn’t want any visitors. But when something banged loudly on the door, he took a second to answer, and the door burst open.

"Hey-hey, Isaac Ass-imov!” Remus grinned at him. He was brandishing a staff, probably the source of the banging. It seemed to be built of several bones, topped with teeth. Fascinating. Had Remus created it himself? “It’s time for dinner.”

What? Logan could have sworn it was only morning.

“Pop-Tart says you gotta come on down!” Remus shimmied his hips. “So get your booty out of bed and eat out with us!”

Logan decided against parsing every innuendo from Remus’ sentence. “And he sent you?”

“Yeah!” Remus slapped his staff cheerily. “I’m persuasive.”

Logan had no doubt of that. He rubbed his arm. He didn’t feel hungry--quite the contrary, his stomach felt rather like the ancient monster Charybdis, as if it would spit out whatever it ingested. However, he knew Patton would be upset at a refusal. More pressingly, Remus would be upset. Logan did not want to find out what Remus did when turned down.

“Who else will be there?” Logan decided to ask.

“Everyone Paternity Test and I can drag out of their rooms!” Remus’ smile, and staff, fell a bit. “Not Ro-Bro, though. Or the emo, if Jay is gonna be there.”

“Jay--” It took a second for Logan to comprehend. “Oh. Janus.”

Remus looked between Logan and the door, then closed the door.

“He--he feels really bad about what happened,” Remus finally said. “They all do. It was a whole big garbage-pile mess, I couldn’t have done it better.”

“You would have improved the situation,” Logan said with a chuckle. “You could have knocked us all out, thus forestalling any crises of morality.”

“That’s what I said!” Remus flopped bonelessly to the ground. His head lolled on the foot of Logan’s bed, his feet pushed at the carpet and the papers drifting by, and he began to fidget with the teeth on his staff. They clinked when he moved them. “Anyway, are you coming to dinner?”

“It doesn’t seem as though either of us are going anywhere,” Logan pointed out, “as you’ve just made yourself comfortable on my rug.”

“Oh.” Remus looked down. “Do you--mind?”

“No,” Logan said, surprising himself. “I don’t, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

“I don’t need to,” Remus said, waving a hand at the papers marooned on the floor. “But yeah, we are going somewhere, ‘cause our Patreon tier gives us free meals now. Nice of him.”

“You’re allowed?” Logan asked.

“Yeah! If I don’t ‘make a nuisance of myself.’” Remus leaned forward confidentially. “Think Patton just wants to have one creative Side around, to make himself feel better.”

Logan traced the edges of the ceiling with his eyes. “He seems to be warming to you.”

“Yeah!” Remus beamed. “Well, Janny likes me, and they’re two peas in a Juul pod now, so he lets me do stuff! Like banging on doors!”

Remus banged on the floor with his staff. The teeth shook.

“Where did you get that?” Logan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it made of human bones?”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “Yeah! Femur here, and then some wrist bones here, and a rib, and then a bundle of molars!”

“Where did you get them?”

“Imagination.” Remus’ voice slid into a rambling tone, as if he was gearing up for a long monologue. Logan found it rather endearing. “My side of the imagination is filled with bones. So I made this one last year! It’s a bonk stick.”

“A--” Logan blinked. “A what?”

“It bonks!” Remus raised the stick and twisted around to Logan. Logan barely had time to move before the staff came down on his head. A light tap. “Bonk!”

“Bonk,” Logan repeated, watching the staff. “What does it do?”

“It bonks people into doing stuff!” Remus pulled the staff away from Logan. “I bonk on doors and I bonk on faces and I bonk on walls! Gets people’s attention. When people are stuck in bed and being gloomy, I bonk them into doing stuff! I--used to do that for Jay, sometimes. I’m the one who gets everyone out of bed.” Remus laughed. “Perks of being a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” Logan said, out of habit. He’d said similar things to Virgil many times.

“If you think that, I’m not trying hard enough.” Remus flipped, knees over his head, and landed on his back on the carpet. His feet kicked up on the bed and l left smears on the quilt. His hair pooled in snarls around his face. “It’s my job, right? I’m the one who bangs pans in your brain until you do something.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“But yeah, I know, I’m not usually the ‘helpful’ one.” Remus sighed, though it sounded more like a blown raspberry. “Jay winds me up and points me fun-wards, though! And now I’ve been tugged all the way over to you!”

“Wonderful,” Logan said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Remus tugged at his mustache. “So, you coming to dinner or not?”

Logan let out a breath.

“Come on,” Remus said after a moment of silence. “You can’t just sulk in bed forever. Get moving! Go-go-go! You’ve got no excuse to stay in bed.”

Something angry twisted in Logan’s chest. “Maybe I do,” he snapped.

“Oh!” Remus blinked up at him. “What is it?”

“Um.” Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m working right now.”

“You’re lying in bed.”

“I’m brainstorming,” Logan lied. “I often do my best work in silence.”

Remus scoffed. “No one works well in silence.”

“I do!”

“Your room says otherwise.” Remus gestured with his staff at the piles of paper and the dusty desk. “You haven’t been working, Specs and the City, don’t try to bluff.”

Logan bit back a pout. “Then--I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not sleep-time,” Remus said. “You can sleep later! Aren’t you all about those cicada rhythms?”

“It’s circadian rhythms,” Logan said. “And you remember that? You weren’t even there!”

“I’m always there,” Remus said. His grin would have been threatening, if he wasn’t sprawled on the rug with curls flopping over his forehead. “I hear everything. Whether you see me or--” He covered his face and splayed his hands. “You don’t!”

“Interesting,” Logan said. “So...you were there during the argument? About the wedding?”

Remus cringed. “Yeah.”

“Oh." Logan felt a bit embarrassed, which was ridiculous, because Remus was the last person who would judge him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Eh, not my jam.” Remus tossed his staff in the air and caught it. The teeth jingled. “Yadda yadda morality bogus, no fun. I don’t mind callbacks, and I don’t mind weddings if they end in orgies, so I really didn’t care. I’m not really about reflecting. You do what you do, no use getting your panties twisted after it’s over.”

“Huh,” Logan said. “So...that’s how you feel about it?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about it?” Logan asked. He didn’t know why--maybe to deflect Remus’ own questioning, maybe because he was curious, curious to see this unknown variable in action. “How do you feel? Has anyone asked you?”

“I--” Remus looked at him open-mouthed for a moment. Then his mouth slammed shut like a nutcracker’s. “I don’t care about it. Like I said. And--no, nobody has. I’m just the voice in the back of your mind, nothing to worry about.”

Remus was in the back of the mind. What did it mean, then, that he was here? Was this the back--was this the shadows? Was this where voices went when nobody listened to them?

“But you’re getting me off-track!” With a nod, Remus was back to full energy. “No getting off-track. No pileups today. I need to hear why you can’t go to dinner.”

“I don’t want to,” Logan said.

Simple. Sickeningly, achingly simple. The scabs stung around his neck.

Remus actually seemed to be considering it. “Why not?”

“I want to stay in bed,” Logan said. Simple. Truthful. No lies to summon anyone, anything. To just keep the two of them there.

Logan stared at the ceiling instead of Remus. Don’t check to see if he’s gone. That wasn’t how you dealt with intrusive thoughts--they always came back. And he wanted Remus gone.

Didn’t he?

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. “But should you?”

“I’m done worrying about shoulds.”

“Do the others want you to?”

“I’ve spent too much time thinking about them already.”

“Is it good for you?”

Logan huffed. “You tell me. Morality is hardly my area of expertise.”

“Mine either,” Remus said, “but I’m good at being where I’m not wanted. And doing what I gotta do.”

Logan continued to look at the ceiling. Maybe Remus would leave. Maybe he wouldn’t. Schrodinger’s cat, he thought idly--dead or alive, an enigma, an unknown. Anything was possible until you checked to make sure.

“How do you feel?”

“What?” Logan jerked his head over to Remus. “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about everything that happened?” Remus shrugged. “You just look kinda icky. And you asked me. Fair’s fair.”

“You don’t believe in fair,” Logan said.

“You do.”

Did he? If he allowed himself the possibility, something red-hot choked his chest. Fair meant everyone was listened to. Fair meant everyone’s input was valued. Fair meant he wasn’t pulled away before he got a chance to fix things--

He’d already failed, though. Wasn’t it fair that he didn’t deserve a seat at the table?

“I don’t believe in fairness,” Logan said. “And I don’t feel anything.”

Remus snickered. “Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“Look, I won’t tell anyone.” Remus winked at him and tapped his nose. “I already know, anyway. I know all your dirty little secrets.”

Logan blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, Jay might hide the secrets, but he needs somewhere to put them.” Remus spread his arms. Sprawled on the carpet, his arms outstretched, he looked like he was being pinned to a cross. “I’m where all the secrets go! All the dirty things you’d never say out loud, I hear them. I’m like your footprints! Or oil sludge--or radiation!”

Logan touched his collar. “Fascinating.”

“I think so too!” Remus bonked the staff on the floor. “Point is, my pointy Poin-dexter, is that I’m not gonna judge. You probably don’t even measure up to the freaky shit I’ve heard some of them think. Glass houses. Say whatever you want, I don’t care, brains are weird and gross sometimes.”

Logan didn’t have a brain, technically. Or he was the brain. Either way, he wasn’t supposed to be weird or gross. Or--fallible. Yet here he was, sprawled on his bed and immovable, a pile of feelings he could barely understand.

“I feel...sick,” Logan said.

Remus was quiet. Maybe he wasn’t there--Logan could monologue to himself, and no one would be the wiser, and Remus wouldn’t be there until Logan looked for him. Remus wasn’t helpful unless someone looked.

“I feel sick,” Logan repeated. “So--anxious, and sick, and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

He could feel his pulse, pounding in his neck. Why did he need it? How was this fair? How was it fair to give him a heart to race, breath to steal, a voice to silence? Why did he have to be this?

Things he should be. Things others wanted. Things that were good.

Things he wanted.

Always tangled, always at odds, always disastrously intertwined.

“I tried to help,” Logan pleaded with no one. “I tried to help--I knew it wasn’t my place to interfere, I couldn’t help with their personal issues, but I could still--give information. Help. I needed to help, I’m--I’m the one who helps. And I failed, and it hurt--and he dragged me off and I couldn’t breathe--”

Breathe. His windpipe was closing. Logan closed his eyes and breathed in and out. Four, seven, eight. He’d taught Virgil that rhythm. Why could he fix everyone else’s problems, but not his own?

“I tried to help,” Logan said, weakly. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No,” Remus agreed. “It wasn’t.”

Logan rubbed at the scabs around his neck. Remus’ throwing stars hadn’t hurt him, so everyone assumed he couldn’t feel pain--that he was unflappable, powerful, untouchable Logic. But it was only because Remus didn’t try to hurt him. Everyone could hurt Logan if they tried. Or if they didn’t bother to stop it from happening.

“I feel sick,” Logan said, quietly, like the crook was still around his neck. “And that’s why I’m not going. That’s my excuse.”

Silence. Logan didn’t want to check if Remus had left. He wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Chicken noodle soup,” Remus said.

“What?”

“That’s what people eat when they’re sick,” Remus continued, springing to his feet. “And, like, toast. And mushed bananas.”

“The b-r-a-t diet,” Logan agreed, still confused. “Bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast.”

“Okay!” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m more practiced at the make people sick side of things, but this is cool too.”

“What?” Logan asked, hoping that for once, Remus would explain. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, you’re sick?” Remus asked. “So I’m helping?”

“I’m not that kind of sick,” Logan started to say, but he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He did feel flushed. And his stomach churned menacingly. “Why?”

“There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!” Remus bonked him on the leg. “You gotta eat something, so I’ll grab stuff for you.”

“But you’re eating with Patton.”

Another bonk on the leg. “I can do it another night! Plus, it’s no fun if I can’t be a nuisance.”

Logan smiled a bit, despite himself. “You can’t be a nuisance here, either.”

“Aww!” Remus pouted, sticking out his lip. “Pwease?”

“I’m not hungry,” Logan said, instead of confronting the fact that Remus’ puppy eyes were working. “Thank you, though.”

“Still gonna get you some food, I think it’s kinda necessary for survival.” Remus looked him over. “Yeah, I’ll grab you a plate, so you can eat in here!”

“You’re...” Logan still didn’t fully understand this. “Letting me stay in bed?”

“You said it yourself, you wanna be here.” Remus shrugged. “Sometimes the bonk stick doesn’t work! And sometimes you just gotta work with what you got. So you stay in bed, and I get you stuff you need, and you take a nap!”

“A nap,” Logan repeated.

“You said you were tired!”

“You said it wasn’t time to sleep yet!”

“Sick rules are different!” Remus crossed his arms. “Look, it’s me, or I sic Pat and Jay on you. And they’re gonna baby you something fierce.”

Logan knew that was true enough. “And you're...okay with this? I don’t wish to interrupt any schedules you may have--”

“I’m Intrusive Thoughts, I don’t have schedules.” Remus shimmied. “I do-do-do what I wanna do-do-do! And what I wanna do is help you out here.”

“Help me,” Logan repeated.

“I can be helpful!” Remus protested. “I have a stick!”

The staff jingled in his hand. He looked utterly convinced. And Logan knew it well enough--there was no way to force the Duke to retire a subject of conversation. Or to get rid of him. Or to stop him from trying something out.

And oddly, Logan found he didn’t mind a bit.

“Okay,” he said. “If you’d like to, you can help.”

Remus’ grin stretched almost the full way around his cheeks. “Oh! Really? Oh, this is so cool, usually I only help Jay--I’ll get you some food! Toast and brats and whatever you were saying. And like a temperature thing, stuff to help you out. You should get into some PJs while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Logan said, after a few seconds. It was often hard to tell when Remus was finished talking. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Yes!” Remus whooped and tossed open Logan’s door. “Be right back, nerd, and I’d better see some pajamas! Or your birthday suit, if that’s what you’re into!”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Logan stared after him for a second. He wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had progressed as it did. He definitely wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Or something he should be doing. Or what the others would want.

It was what he wanted, though. Didn’t he get that? Wasn’t that fair?

Two Sides at the back of the mind, two sides of the same coin, leaving each other’s footsteps behind.

Logan touched his collar.

He only wore his onesie when he didn’t expect visitors. But he changed into it now, curling up on the bed, waiting for Remus to come back. For some reason, despite Remus’ unpredictability, he was sure that Remus would. Intrusive Thoughts never truly went away. Like a grease stain, or a mole in a game of Whack-a-Mole. Or radiation.

Logan smiled to himself. Remus was already rubbing off on him.

And for the first time in several days, his heart rate steadied, and Logan could breathe again.

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

#intrulogical #sanders sides #remus sanders #logan sanders #logan sanders angst #janus negativity #like just a wee bit but it's okay #remus sanders angst #asks and answers #anon #averywrites #long post #dhgsfhj kinda proud of this one even tho i deleted the whole first half by accident #it definitely came out longer than i expected #might even rb with taglist later? maybe!

383 notes · View notes

trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

The Truth Behind His Motives

Part 2 of The New Life of a Dying Afton

Michael is getting a bath and finally spills...not the water, but the reason behind Michael's choice of job. Henry tries to cheer him up in any way he knows.

For Lucius01.

Michael was feeling his body crumble more and more, the longer he floated in the tub. But boy, did the bath feel good. It felt amazing to him. Felt like the world’s problems were lifted off his shoulders...for just a moment.

“So tell me: Why did you apply to Circus Baby’s Pizza world?” Henry asked.

Michael groaned and opened his eyes. Damn...He was looking forward to just sleeping there...in the tub.

But...He’s gotta answer the man.

“I…”

But...what should he say? Should he tell him the truth? Or cover up the truth? He could feel it coming on...an urge to bawl his eyes out. To just weep and let it all out. But...He would be seen as weak by doing that.

“Come on...tell me. If you need to cry, then cry.”

It was like being given permission, finally broke the dam open. Michael bursted out crying and hid his face in his hands out of pure embarrassment. It all welled up to the front for the first time, and poured itself out. It felt great to finally cry, but it also felt embarrassing. It was a big mix of emotions that all climbed up to fall out of him.

With all the crying, he was starting to finally lose his filter.

“I miss him.” He told him. “I hate him, but I miss him!”

Henry’s face softened. Oh gosh…This is the deep pain that Michael had been holding in.

“WHY DO I MISS A MURDERER?!” Michael shouted.

Henry let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. “Well…”

Michael sobbed. He hated acting like this...He hated acting vulnerable and expressing his depressive thoughts.

“Sometimes love is very complicated. It can make us love terrible people, and miss the memories despite how little there are.” Henry tried to explain.

Michael continued to double over and cry. He could hear his tears plopping into the bathtub. He felt like a complete loser. His father would’ve reprimanded him for crying so much. But Henry...wasn’t like that.

“You hold so many things inside that little heart of yours.” Henry told him.

He had a good point...He really does hold things in his heart. And now was the time to get it all out.

“I...It gets stronger with every passing day!” Michael told him. He wiped the tears off his face and looked at Henry desperately. “I feel an urge to meet him! See him! Feel him, anything with him!” Michael explained. “But I can’t!”

Henry smiled. “I get those too…I would kill to hear William’s laugh again.”

Michael sniffled. “I wanna hear his voice again. His real voice. Not his broken voice.” Michael started to rock as he talked to him. “I started to use a coping strategy.”

“Yeah?” Henry responded softly. He sounded really interested...And he genuinely was.

“I started writing letters to him...My therapist told me to.” Michael told him. “It helps a bit...Helps me feel close to him again…”

Henry nodded and continued to listen.

“But there are some days when it’s not enough...Some days, I need more. So much more.” Michael told him. “I need to be where he is. I need to talk to him...Ask him things that constantly fill my mind.” Michael told him.

“Like?”

“Like...Why did you do it?” Michael asked. “Why did you have me? If you love me, why did you do what you did?”

Henry nodded. “Trust me, I have those exact same questions.”

Michael nodded and growled. “I was sick of the hole in my heart. I wanted real answers!” Michael told him. “So…”

“You applied to a job that William used to run…and that Elizabeth is being held captive in…” Henry filled in the blanks.

Michael nodded and splashed the water angrily. “It was stupid. So stupid.”

Henry nodded. “It was...But I understand.”

Michael looked up at him.

“The truth is, the hole in your heart may never fill.” Henry told him. “But what you do with that hole, may make all the difference.”

Michael looked at him and sighed. “I...I found Elizabeth…” Michael told him.

Henry looked up. “You did?”

“Yeah…” Michael replied.

“How is she?” Henry asked.

“Stuck.” He replied.

“I imagine…” Henry told him.

Michael started to tear up all over again. “I miss her too.”

Henry walked up closer and hugged him. “I know.”

Michael continued to cry into the man’s sleeve. The pain of all he had gone through had been building up till this point. Now, it was all crashing apart. His world was upside down, and his body was decaying before his eyes.

“Now look at me…” Michael muttered, as he looked at the soggy dead skin that had fallen off as he bathed. It was everywhere...It would probably clog the bathtub. “I know…” Henry told him. “It’s both unimaginable, and disgusting at the same time.”

Michael chuckled a bit. “I’m a zombie.” He put his arms up like a zombie.

Michael actually laughed at that. “You really are! Barely awake, barely alive, heart’s maybe pumping but that’s about it.” Henry added.

Michael smiled for the first time at that moment. His teeth were still there despite the decaying body.

“I miss him.” He told him.

“I do too.” Henry said back. “Would it help if I told you some stories of when we were hanging out together?” He asked.

Michael nodded and leaned against the corner of the bathtub.

“So: there was this one time we took you to the playground when you were almost 2. Your father was ecstatic about going to the park with you for the first time. He couldn’t wait to see what you’d choose!” He told him.

Michael smiled.

“He let you go run, while I sat on a bench. I was questioning you going on your own, but I guess parents have to do it at some point.” Henry told him. “Anyway, you immediately ran to the swings first. So naturally, William started sprinting to the swing and wanna guess what he did?” He told him.

“He pushed me?” He asked.

“Nope!” Henry laughed. “He put you in the swing, and left you there while he climbed into the baby swing beside you!” He laughed. “He expected me to walk my ass over there, and push us both!” He told him.

Michael rolled his eyes and laughed. “Wow…”

“Wow is right!” Henry reacted. “Making me do all the work!”

“What did you do?” Michael asked.

“I tickled him.” He replied casually.

“You-...I’m sorry what?” Michael was surprised.

“The trick to handling his lack of common sense was to tickle him. And William, let me tell ya: William was the most ticklish man I have ever met, in my life! And he was just ASKING for it that day.” Henry told him.

Michael giggled in slight nervousness.

“His sides were the killer spot. You tickle him there? He’ll flop to the ground. Tickle him from standing? He’ll be on the ground in seconds.” He told him.

Michael laughed.

“Ahahahand his feet?”

“His feet were a good spot to go for when he was taking up the whole couch. All you had to do was keep tickling till he had his knees to his chest.” Henry told him. “And if he ever placed his feet on your knees afterwards? You just keep on going.” Henry told him.

“Wohohow! I guess I now know why I’m ticklish everywhere.” Michael mentioned.

“Yeah! I guess so!” Henry reacted. “I never really thought ticklish spots could be genetic. But, I suppose they are.” He told him.

Michael shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t really know much about genetics. But he did know about the dominant and recessive genes.

[A while later:]

Michael had walked up to Henry after having his bath.

Henry was waiting for Michael on the couch, with an evil looking grin on his face.

“What?” Michael asked with a chuckle.

“Oh nothing…” He said, clearly not meaning it.

“Don’t nothing me! Something’s up.” Michael told him.

“You’re right…” Henry said with a sly smirk.

“What are you planning?” Michael asked as Henry got up.

“Oooooh...ya knooooww..” He walked around Michael and squeezed his sides.

“EEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” He laughed, doubling over.

“Oooooh! Just as ticklish on your sides, I see!” Henry reacted.

“COHOHOHOME OHOHON! YOHOHOU AHAHALREADY TIHIHICKLED MEHEHE TOHOHODAHAHAY!” Michael reacted.

“Did I?” Henry asked. “Oh yeah! I did, didn’t I?” Henry realized.

“YEHEHEHES!” Michael laughed happily.

“Well maybe I wanna tickle you some more!” Henry reacted.

Michael felt trapped under Henry’s wiggly fingers. His sides were almost as ticklish as his Dad’s were.

“Wow! I wonder...Are your hips just as ticklish?” He asked.

Michael widened his eyes. NO! “NAHAT THERE!”

“Not where?” He squeezed them. “Here?”

Michael absolutely EXPLODED with laughter! His hips were a super bad spot!

“Funny...I don’t remember William’s hips being this ticklish! Though, I do remember William mentioning how ticklish your mother’s hips were.” Henry reacted.

“REHEHEHEALLY?” He reacted.

“Yeah! Her hips were a really bad spot. And her only spot! Her hips seemed to make up for the lack of tickle spots on her whole body. It was quite the interesting contrast compared to William.” Henry explained.

Michael's smile grew brighter and brighter the longer he was tickled. It felt just as nice as being in the tub. He was truly getting the treatment today!

“OHOHOKAHAHAHAY, BREHEHEHEAK PLEHEHEHEASE!” He begged.

Henry nodded and gave him a break. He stopped tickling him and let him go.

Michael didn’t really lack the air to breathe, being he was mostly dead. So the man recovered rather quickly.

“Thahahank you Dad.” He said in a giggly trance.

Henry widened his eyes and quickly covered his mouth. He hadn’t been called Dad since Charlie!

Henry could feel the tears coming on. “Oh no, here comes my turn to cry…” He admitted with a laugh.

Michael quickly comforted him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Michael told him.

“Ihit’s fine. It was nice of you to call me Dad. I needed that.” Henry told him.

Michael smiled and hugged him. “No problem...Dad.”

Aaaaand a lot more tears were shed that evening.

This fanfic is a personal take on Daddy Issues (Which I have). The truth is, I have 2 Dad's: A birth Dad, and an adopted Dad. My adopted Dad is the greatest man I've ever met. My birth Dad...is broken. I really wanted to illustrate what it's like to hate someone you love, and explain that need to see someone you love despite the hate you feel towards them. It's super complicated, but I tried to explain it here as a therapy of sorts for me. I hope this explains some things.

#Post-fnaf: Sister location #scooped michael #parent henry #ticklefic #ler!henry #lee!william #lee!michael #blood and gore #graphic depictions #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and feels #eventual fluff

53 notes · View notes

yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

Text

Should've just asked - Oscar "spooky" Diaz Imagine

Requested? Yes - @too-oldtobeafangirl

"Hey mamas, got any plans today?" Spooky asked as his eyes landed on his girlfriend of six months y/n, sitting on the couch with her phone in her hand ignoring whatever show she had put on just minutes ago.

"Uh yeah, I think I do, why? What's up?" She asked, eyes flicking up to him briefly before the ping of her phone drew her back in.

"I was thinking we could Uh, I dunno, go get some food or something later?" He spoke unsurely, frowning as she continued to type as though she'd never heard him.

"Well," she muttered locking her phone and placing it down on the arm of the sofa face down, a detail which failed to escape Oscar's notice. "I've got plans up until 3 then I'm all yours." She winked up at him before yet again her phone became more important.

"Okay, I was think we could-" He had started to say before y/n jumping up from the sofa, phone in hand and smile on her face stopped his words from coming out.

"I gotta go meet Lindsey, but I'll text you later baby." She smiled picking up her bag from the side of the door, swinging it on her shoulder and placing a small kiss on his cheek before opening the front door. "Love you!" She called.

"I love you.." he started before the door slammed shut, preventing her from hearing his words. "Too." He sighed.

Shaking his head he decided to roll a joint and grab a beer, y/n's actions from this morning running through his mind, he's seen all the tricks done before, the secret messages, hushed phone calls, leaving the phone face down so nobody could see what message comes through, or rather who's message. The only thing different is that it's normally Spooky who's hiding something, in previous relationships of course, the thought of someone who isn't y/n doing nothing but churning his stomach, she was the only one who stuck around and dealt with his Santos business without kicking up a fuss.

But now, now he was worried. He knew that she loved him, well, she told him everyday, but how she was acting recently had his mind running a million miles per hour, thinking about her with someone else made him feel sick, physically and mentally sick. Sighing to himself he threw his joint into the ashtray and made his way to his car, if she thinks she can go around with whatever man she wants then she clearly didn't know Oscar as well as she thought she did.

Meanwhile at the mall y/n and Sad eyes were having a great time, both unaware of the storm that was currently brewing in Oscar, well, he was far closer to being Spooky than Oscar at this moment in time. The two friends were laughing with arms full of bags as they made their way towards the food court, lost in a world of their own they never heard y/n's phone ringing.

Oscar stood round the corner from the food court, watching as sad eyes and his girl walked towards the taco stand with smiles on their faces, her cheeks glowing red slightly as she laughed at something sad eyes had said. Even now when the worst thoughts were going through his head he couldn't deny how beautiful she looked, her hair shining in the artificial lights and her smile brighter than a million stars. Pulling out his phone he watched as neither one of them made an effort to check their phones, both too caught up in their own world to even notice the brooding gang leader in the corner.

"So, you think Oscars gunna like it?" Y/n asked as they sat down at a table, dropping the bags at the side of their chairs before flopping down.

"The guys crazy about you, pretty sure you could just throw him a card and he'll be talking about it for days." Sad eyes chuckled as he thought about his love struck best friend.

"What can I say? He's a real sweetie pie when you guys aren't around." I laughed picking up my drink and squealing when a drop of coffee slipped down the top of my shirt. "Oh wow, that's hot." I muttered pulling my top out slightly to stop it from running in the coffee.

"Thank you." She muttered as Sad eyes handed her a napkin and she began to dab the top of her chest, careful to make sure that nobody got an eyeful while she did so.

"So this is where you've been sneaking off to huh, with Lindsey." A gruff voice from behind them made the two jump, looking round to see Oscar stood there with his usual smirk set in a hard line, his eyes narrowed at the two of them as they sat there like two deers in headlights.

"Oscar? What are you doing here?" Y/n asked standing up to face him with confusion on her face.

"What? Didn't want me to find out aye mami?" Oscar growled, his attention focused on the girl in front of him, frowning and looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Well no, not really, kind of beats the whole idea." Sad eyes chuckled as he stood up and turned to face his life long friend.

"I'm gunna beat your ass into the fucking ground." Oscar growled before stepping forward and landing a punch straight to sad eyes' jaw.

"What the hell Oscar?!" Y/n yelled as she bent down to help Sad eyes up from the floor, his hand on his jaw and a trickle of blood falling from his lip.

"What? You think I'm gunna let you walk around acting all cosy with this putá while I sit at home waiting for you? You think I'm some kind a bitch aye?!" He yelled looking down at the two with disgust, his fists clenched to his sides. He could see the rest of the mall were watching them, but he didn't care, he knew they wouldn't try and stop him or get him escorted out, he was Spooky Diaz, he ran the streets and there was nobody that could tell him different.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Y/n asked as she stood in front of him, looking up at him in nothing but confusion.

"Don't play dumb hyna, I know about you and him, did you really think I was stupid?" He seethed, knowing that calling her a 'hyna' was one way to really piss her off, and it seemed to work as in the next second his cheek was stinging like crazy, the echoed sound of a slap confirming what he already knew, she had slapped him.

"Yeah, I do think you're dumb, I think you're the most stupid person I have ever met if you really think that lowly of me." Y/n started, her voice low as she stared daggers into Oscars eyes, ignoring the stinging in her palm from the force of the slap. "I don't give a shit who you are, big bad Spooky Diaz thinking that everyone's afraid of him because he's got a shitty tattoo on his face, Spooky Diaz who runs the streets with his big bad gang, well guess what, you're no more than little Oscar Diaz, too far up his own ass to see when someone is trying to do something nice for you, Ya know, like your girlfriend and best friend who was doing nothing more than planning your birthday, you moron!" She finished with a yell, watching as the anger in his eyes suddenly faded and turned to guilt, his eyes flicking over to Sad eyes who did nothing but shrug, he should've know lying to Spooky was gunna end up this way.

"Y/n I-"

"Y/n I - Nothing Oscar! If you thought that something was wrong why not ask me? It could've been a simple question but instead you decide to go start shit in the middle of the mall, punching Sad eyes and for what? To make yourself look like a fool." She muttered, tears building up as she shook her head and turned to Sad Eyes. "Let's go." She muttered sadly, holding on to his arm and leading him away from Oscar, their food and bags forgotten about as they left the Santos leader standing in his own bubble of guilt and stupidity.

He should've just asked...

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

It's kinda short and I left it at a terrible place but this has been in my ask for ages now and I just wanted to get it out, if anyone wants it I've been thinking up a part 2 🥰

#Oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz imagines #spooky diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagines #on my block imagines #on my block #on my block imagine

245 notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Billy has no fucking clue what he’s doing right now.

He’s never taken care of a sick person before.

And he’s not exactly the nurturing type. Not like Steve is.

But Steve is fucking sick.

And Billy doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Can you check if I have a fever?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

“Just like, feel my face. See if it’s hot.”

Billy raised one hand tentatively, slapping his palm down onto Steve’s forehead.

Steve grunted, sighing dramatically.

“Uh, I can’t tell.”

“Use the back of your hand, numb nuts.”

Billy let go of Steve’s head, pressing the back of his hand gently instead.

“You feel, kinda warm?” Steve glared at him. “I don’t know! I don’t have a reference to how warm your forehead typically is.”

“Feel your own or something!”

Billy just about hit himself in the nose feeling his own temperature.

“I guess you’re warmer than I am?”

Steve rolled his eyes, flopping back into bed.

Billy just kinda stared at him.

He wanted to help, but he genuinely doesn’t know how.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Isn’t soup like, the thing for a sick person?

“I think there’s some chicken noodle in the bottom pantry.” Steve was now giving him the sweet doe eyes. Although the effect was undercut by how glassy they looked and his red runny nose.

“Okay. Um, how do I make it.”

Steve stared at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Soup. How do I make it?” Billy was never allowed in the kitchen growing up. Cooking is a woman’s job in his dad’s eyes, and if Billy even offered to help Susan, or one of the girlfriends before her, Neil would be breathing down his neck and calling him a fairy.

“So, uh, open the can. And pour the soup into a pot, adding one can full of water to the soup. And then just like, wait until it’s hot.”

“But, there’s chicken in it. Doesn’t that need to cook?”

Steve blinked at him a few times.

“The chicken’s already cooked, Bill. You just gotta make the broth hot.”

Billy nodded curtly. Determined.

This would be easy.

It was not easy.

First of all, he had no fucking idea how to use the can opener.

The Harrington’s had this fucking electric one. Because using a handheld can opener was somehow a hassle.

In the end, he gave up pressing random buttons and stabbed the top of the can with a knife a few times, leaving long gashes he clumsily connected.

He swore loudly when the shape he had cut out of the top immediately fell into the soup.

But he poured it into the pot, fishing out the lid in there.

He added the water like Steve said, and stared at the stove dials.

Is this, like, a medium job? Billy feels like he’s heard that. Maybe in one of Susan’s cooking shows. Over a medium heat....

Why not?

He cranked the dial to medium and hoisted himself up to sit on the counter, staring into the pot.

He was gonna do this right. Gonna take care of his sick little Steve if it fucking killed him.

He was gonna heat the soup perfectly, not burn it, bring it to Steve and maybe even feed it to him.

Wait, can soup burn? Because hot water just evaporates, and this soup is at least 50% water, with the can full Billy added. So, the broth evaporates and the stuff in it burns? Or can broth burn, too?

He glanced back down at it, startling at the now bubbling soup in the pot.

Bubbling’s good, though. Like boiling. Right?

He found a wooden spoon in a narrow drawer next to the stove, giving the soup a few stirs.

He should make sure it’s hot.

He stared at it some more.

He can’t just like, put his finger in there.

Should he assume it’s hot enough? What with the bubbling action and all.

But is the chicken hot?

He fished a piece of chicken out with his wooden spoon, blowing on it once before popping it into his mouth.

Oh, fuck.

Yeah, the chicken’s hot.

The chicken’s fucking scalding.

He turned off the stove and found the bowls after testing three different cabinets, locating the spoons after what felt like an hour.

He painstakingly ladled soup into the bowl with the small spoon, fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall when he remembered seeing a ladle in the drawer with the wooden spoon.

And when he deemed the bowl finally full, he carried it up to Steve as carefully as he could.

Steve smiled brightly at him.

“I could hear you banging around and swearing down there. Thought maybe you started a fire.”

“Nope. Just made this for you. What the fuck is up with your can opener? You really too good for one ‘a those handheld ones?”

Steve laughed, accepting the hot bowl and setting it on the breakfast-in-bed tray in front of him.

“There’s one of those in the drawer with the peelers and baster and stuff. But I assume you got is working?”

Billy thought of the knife he no doubt ruined.

“Yeah. Got it working.”

Steve ate the first bite, blowing on it carefully.

“You did a good job.”

Something warm fluttered in Billy’s gut.

“Yeah? It taste good?”

Steve gave him an odd look.

“Did you do something weird to it?”

“No. Just. Never cooked before. Wanted to get it right.”

And Steve went all ooey gooey. The way he does when Billy says something that make his cheeks go hot. Something a little to close to the vest.

“Well, you did. Thank you.” He took another bite. “But I can’t believe you’ve never even made soup before.”

“Neil says cooking is women’s work.”

“Neil can choke on a fat one.”

Billy laughed at Steve’s petulant face, the snot running down from his nose.

“Nah. Don’t think he deserves the pleasure of sucking a dick.”

“Then he can choke on something stupid. A rock. Or like, his own vomit or something.”

“Big talk from a guy that looks ready to hurl.”

Steve sniffed deeply, snorting up his own snot.

“That was fucking gross, Stevie.”

“Leave me alone if you’re just gonna be fucking rude. I’m sick. I deserve compassion.”

“And I made you goddamn soup. If that’s not compassion I don’t know what the fuck is.”

“It’s basic cooking, you asshole. That’s what.” Steve blew on another spoonful of soup, slurping up a few noodles with his bite.

Billy still didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here.

“So, uh, I can do something else? That would make you feel better?”

Steve gave him the gooey look again, the tip of his nose bright red from scrubbing at it with the tissues litering the bed.

“Just stay with me? I was gonna take some medicine,” he gestured to the bottle of dark green liquid on the nightstand, “and it’ll knock my ass out, if you wanna nap with me. Or you could leave, I don’t wanna keep you-”

Steve trailed off as Billy stood up, wiggling out of his tight jeans, stealing a pair of Steve’s gym shorts from the dirty laundry hamper in the corner. He tossed his shirt on the floor, sliding under the covers with Steve.

“So, nap time?”

“Just let me finish this gourmet ass soup and I’ll be right with you.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

189 notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Sickening

You looked at the blood in your sink. It was becoming sticky and rust colored at the edge. It probably wasn’t a lot but it certainly looked like it. The fact that you weren’t exactly sure who’s it was made you feel sick. You closed your eyes and grabbed some towels to clean it.

After spraying your sink heavily with antiseptic, you scrubbed your hands clean and left the room. Your boyfriend laid out on the couch. Normally you found it a little funny the way his long body would hang over the arm. Now you were worried.

“Jason,” you asked. What is going on? He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I got in a fight. It’s no big deal. You know how assholes in Gotham are,” he said. As if to emphasize his point, the sound of police sirens sounded close by. Yeah, this place was rough.

And Jason certainly looked like he had recently been in a fight. His knuckles were red and raw. He had a bruise blooming on his forearm. And his grey shirt had little specks of black that you couldn’t help but wonder was blood.

“Why are you always covered in bruises? Is that the assholes in Gotham?” You asked, sitting on the coffee table.

“You could say that,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess people just want to punch me. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a bath,” you said. “I’ll throw your clothing in the wash.”

“I’m fine-“

“You’re covered in blood and I’m not sure it’s yours,” you said. Jason slowly rose from the couch and you see that he favored one shoulder over the other one when pushing up. Probably also bruised. Or worse.

He all but stumbled into the bathroom. You started a hot bath. Your small apartment didn’t have a shower attachment. Jason roughly pushed off his boots before grimacing as he pulled off his shirt and threw it in your tiny washing machine. That one was a gift from him that somehow your landlord was totally cool with despite being a complete ass.

His shoulder had nasty red and purple splotches of bruises and there was a small bloody area. He shoved his belt open and pushed off his pants and socks. Jason slid into the tub. He groaned. His long leg had his knees sticking out of the water almost comically.

You bent down and sat on the old tile floor. Someone, probably in the 1920s or something, had out tiny little white hexagon tiles all over the floor next to the claw foot tub. You grabbed a cup and started pouring water on Jason’s chest. He hissed before relaxing. Steam from the tub rose in the cold room.

“I worry about you. Worry what you’re doing. Why you won’t tell me what you’re doing. That you’re in trouble or something. Do you owe a gang money or something? Who hit you?” You asked softly. Deathstroke, Jason thought but he certainly couldn’t tell you that. His hard look soften a little.

“I don’t owe a gang money. Nothin like that,” he said. He couldn’t help but look at your face. You were too pretty, too innocent, too good for his world. He didn’t want you in this. Hell, he shouldn’t have talked to you in the first place because no one lasted long in his life. Jason knew that taking you on a date had been selfish. And everything after that was him being too weak to do the right damn thing.

You took the cup and poured water over his hair. The slight pink color had you grimacing. You didn’t push your questions. It was something Jason loved about you. He was a hard nut to crack and usually what worked best was time and space.

You grabbed your shampoo rather than Jason’s to wash his hair. There was no way that you were going to use his ‘mountain bear scented 4 in one shampoo, conditioner, body wash, motor oil’ when trying to pamper him.

You’d never washed his hair before. He’d definitely never let anyone close to washing him. Shower sex, great. But never something non-sexual and intimate as just being bathed. You ran your fingers through his hair letting the soap rub in. Jason literally felt goosebumps on his skin and he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. You were the only person that he let touch him and high key, this was the best relaxation he’s ever remembered feeling. You ran your hands through his hair longer that necessary but you could tell that he wasn’t complaining. He groaned a little.

You poured the water over his head and was pleasantly surprised that the water was soapy but clear. At least there wasn’t a lot of blood in his hair. Jason bent and washed his face in the water. He had more stubble growing than he usually did.

“Do you wanna shave your face? I can do it,” you offered. For a fraction of a second his brow creased before he gave you a half smile.

“Not today. I’m good. Thank you,” Jason said holding your hand. He couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t trust anyone with any kind of blade near his face.

“Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on,” You said reaching a hand to his other cheek. His jaw clenched a little and his eyes almost looked hurt. He was thinking of all the people who had died because they knew a secret. Other vigilantes who’d lost their entire families for knowing their secret identity. But at the same time, Jason knew that you wouldn’t stay around forever and the lies were growing. He was going to do one more little selfish thing. He sighed deeply.

“I’ve gotta tell you something but I don’t want to scare you,” he said and his eyes showed so much worry and fear. He genuinely thought he might lose you over this.

“Scare me? Jay, what are you talking about?” You said confused. He inhaled nervously.

“I- I’m Red Hood! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to say it so loud,” he said. Jason’s eyes searched your face. Your eyes were wide and you were frozen. His breath was all over the place in absolute fear. It was only a few seconds but he prayed for you to speak.

“Did you just say that you’re Red Hood?” You said faintly. Red Hood was infamous. Brutally murdered gang members, rapists, and traffickers. Even once famously fought the dark knight himself. The one continued theme of everything you heard: cold, cruel, and highly deadly. If you saw Red Hood, it was probably the worst day of your life, if not your last.

“Uh... yeah? Yes.” He gulped and watched you. His blue eyes were so round and worried.

“No. I can’t believe that,” you said. Jason, who would read Jane Eyr to you, that fed stray cats outside of the apartment, and was literally the sweetest boyfriend couldn’t be this killer. He looked down with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m Red Hood. That’s me. If you don’t believe me, there is a Glock 26 Gen 4 strapped to my bedside table. There are a few more around,” he said motioning around the apartment.

“You keep stuff here?” You asked with a mad look. Your head was spinning.

“No. Just some protection. None of the Hood stuff is ever here. I don’t want anything that could be found in this apartment. All the stuff here is new and never fired besides a few practice rounds. I try to be as safe as possible so you are never in danger,” he emphasized. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. The only movement was Jason’s fingers running along your hand.

“Why? Why do you do it? Be the Red Hood?” You asked finally. He expected that question but not right away.

“I should probably tell you how it started,” Jason said and he didn’t hold back. He told you about his parents, attempting to steal the rims from the batmobile, becoming Bruce Wayne’s ward, becoming Robin, being killed by the Joker, the lazareth pit, and becoming the Red Hood. By the time he was done, the water was cold and your legs were numb. “That’s why I have bruises and scars. Why I leave sometimes or miss dates.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. He gave you a look of confusion. What could you possibly be sorry for? “You shouldn’t have gone through that. You shouldn’t have needed to hide it from me. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t scare you? You don’t want to run from a murderer?” Jason asked. His eyes searched yours for signs of fear or disgust.

“Is it really murder if they are evil? Or justice?” You said slowly and he winced at that word. Bruce certainly wouldn’t agree. “Every time I hear the question ‘would you kill baby Hitler’ I would. Without question. I would shoot a baby because I would be thinking about 6 million Jews and unknown others that died because of him. The bad guys always get out and make things so much worse.

“You’re going to have to tell me where all the weapons are here. I’m paranoid that I’m going to reach in the couch and grab a sword,” you said with a laugh, standing up. Sure, you were shocked. But that wasn’t going to make you run screaming into the night. Or maybe you were in shock? You’d find out in the morning.

“Swords are more my brother’s thing,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll show you. I’ve been wanting to teach you some self defense too.”

“We’ll get back to your brother being into swords later. But first, let’s get you out of that wet ass tub and into bed. Because I can’t process any more information tonight,” you said handing Jason a towel. He obviously favored his right shoulder when dressing in sweatpants before coming to the bed where he flopped down. The lights in the bathroom flickered and you rolled your eyes. That’s Gotham for you.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow,” Jason said quietly.

“Nevermind that. Do you want an ice pack?”

“No. I want you,” he said and you smiled a little before crawling in the bed. Jason moved around to lay with his head next to your chest snuggling close. It was almost comical the way the big man hugged you and laid in your arms. He needed to be close to you even though your arm on his waist made him clench in pain for a second before you moved to a better position.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly. “You’re way too nice to me. Almost gullible. Like Baby, you live this way?” he said with a smile. His sarcastic defense was back up. You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe I’ve got a thing for the whole bad boy thing. Or that I know last week, you had cereal with water and honestly, that’s the ultimate weakness,” you said back and he gave you a rare grin.

“We were out of milk. Like what was I gonna do? Eat it dry? No.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and he grimaced.

“Sorry. We should get some sleep. It’s super late,” you said.

“Yeah, sleep. Sounds great,” he said already drowsy. “I fucking love you,” he whispered before falling asleep.

#fns #friday night smut #Jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd angst #Jason todd smut #batboys

322 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Can you do a one-shot where the reader was born in 1996 and she’s the daughter of Nikki Sixx and Brandi Brandt and is the bassist and songwriter of Wallows and is best friends with her bandmates Dylan Minnette, Braeden Lemasters, and Cole Preston and she helps 5sos write songs for the album Calm and starts dating Ashton and the fans go nuts (in the good way) with shipping?

Wallowing

ashton Irwin x wallows!reader / masterlist

warnings; references to sex, swearing, threats

“Come in babe.” You opened the door, inviting your boyfriend Ashton into your flat. He had been having a hard day at the studio, and had asked if it was alright if he came over. Of course it was, but he had got a warning prior to his arrival, that they would not be alone, and that if he wanted to clear his head, it was certainly not the right place.

“Fuck you, you’re supposed to be on my side man!” At the sound of Dylan, yelling at whom you supposed to be Cole, you pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you welcomed your partner into your home sweet home. Out of all days, they had to be playing COD in your apartment today.

“Sorry bout that.” A light grimace filled your face, but instead of giving you criticism, Ashton simply laughed, following you through the apartment, as you tried to slowly pass behind your band mates who were occupying your living room.

“Not so fast young Sixx, get your well endowed ass back here.” A sigh fell from your mouth as you rolled your eyes at Braeden, pausing your movements as he turned to lean against the back of your couch to peer over at you. “We need to have a conversation little lady.”

Groaning, you threw your head back, smiling a small apology towards Ash. “We were going to go to my room, I’d rather just you guys play my PS4 without needing to interact with me face to face.”

“Would you rather he FaceTime you whilst you’re getting down and dirty, or stand there like a kid’s doll and allow him to pull at your arm?” Dylan mumbled, as you crossed your arms, Ash greeting your band mates as you moved towards the tv, reaching for the side button and turning it off.

“Y/n what the hell?” Cole half screamed, breaking loose as he was close to finally beating Minette and killing his gamer character. His hands flailed as he expected an answer, raising in the air as he held the remote.

“I could ask you the same thing Preston, so what’s the schtick that’s making you keep me here, in my own apartment?” He gulped as you enquired at him, raising your brow, as you leaned back into your partner who stood awkwardly behind you like a supporting shadow.

“Congrats on the album Irwin, it’s great to see our own band member aiding your band. CALM is sick, and she makes me feel the same, just in a different manner.”

“Stop being a salty little bitch would you?” You asked, smacking him on the upside of the back of his head. He rutted his head back, clasping the behind of his scalp with his palm, firmly turning back to cast an icy glare towards you.

This was the normal behaviour around here, you all enjoyed getting under each other’s skin. It was a sign of true friendship, that whilst sometimes still triggering some real annoyance, that made your bond of being band mates that much deeper.

They were doing the same thing to you now, speaking prolifically showering your boyfriend in compliments, to side swab you with cockblockery. In all honesty, whenever Lydia or another girl was on the premises, you returned the favour, though that did not your pulsating frustration decrease at all.

“I’m going to assume there’s a problem here. Are you sure now is a good time for me to be here?” Ash asked reassuringly, his gentle touch applying a loving presence upon your shoulder, making you smile despite the situation that was running through the discourse of your veins

You craved him, to feel his body atop, or under, or however else against your own. It was infuriating to endure how your band mates dragged their greeting to him out, all you wanted was to discard his and your own clothing, leaving it as a jumble of forgotten material on the floor whilst the pair of you were caught up in mess upon the mattress, limbs inclined to coil around each arch, and breaths long overdue and escaping into the air.

“It’s a good time for you overall pal, considering that your sales are sky high, taller than this one that is practically trying to hump your arm. No problems with your presence, except the fact that it’s turning little Brandi’s baby’s hormones into overdrive.” Braeden spoke, earning a guttural growl out from your throat, as your nostrils flared furiously at his words.

If you didn’t get on with it, then the Red Sea of the month would cause a flood that would stain your underwear. You’d have preferred to take action before that happened. “The work isn’t just on my shoulders loser, if you want a worldwide selling album, put in some elbow grease, instead of playing stupid games.”

“I’m good, and by definition that makes you stupid, because they belong to you.” He remarked, Cole chuckling and offering him a high five.

“I could just kick you out.” You promptly supposed, as Dylan messed around with his phone, surrendering to the game, as he ran his hand to define the ruggedness of his silvery blue locks.

“Band rules say no to that.” Braeden stated. “And Ash, feel free to replace this one, we could do a switch. You’re basically ready to move in together, so we wouldn’t have to go anywhere else to have rapid fire nights.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?” Your boyfriend asked, and you, without any thought or hesitancy, shook your head. He certainly didn’t need to know about that, it was, least to say, a mess.

There would be dares, and drinks, and tattoos put in the most awkward places with that artist set that you kept very far under your bed. It was a shock that Ashton hadn’t seen the word ‘narwhale’ on the heel of your foot, or maybe he did, and decided against saying anything.

“I put up with these idiots.” Dylan sighed, though as you whipped your head around, you saw that he was not speaking directly to any of you, instead, his

“He’s on fucking insta live.” Cole realised, leaving over to get his face in the mirroring of the stream, waving a hand to the fans that spewed hearts onto the corner of the screen.

“Prick.” You called Dylan out, watching as he laughed at your lack of amusement, and poised the self proclaimed camera towards you, also catching the person beside you in the view.

“Calm.” Ashton softly spoke, sending you a small and reassuring smile, which you were defeated to not permit the same in return

“Funny pun Irwin, but shut up.” You laughed, and shook your head, him finally catching onto what he had said.

“Yes that is the incredibly talented 5SOS member Ashton Irwin. I know right, what is he doing with us?” Cole read, watching as Dylan rolled his eyes at his band member’s behaviour, wanting to get his phone back, though his attempts were lacklustre.

“Or more specifically, her?” Braeden asks, walking behind the sofa and grasping him, dragging him closer to where the phone was propped in Cole’s hand, giving the fans a clear image of his face. “Is he joining the band?” He reads from the flood of comments. “I wish, but we don’t draw that much talent.

“Speak for yourself.” You groaned, walking closer, leaning your head over Ash’s hunched shoulder, releasing an awkward smile as he raised it, gently bumping your chin with the slope of his muscle. “Rude.”

“Where are you guys? Well, we’re at y/n’s apartment. She just got back and dragged this old slugger in off the streets. How charitable.” Cole spoke, smiling up at Irwin as he lightly punched his face, already too comfortable with his hovering presence.

“Why is he there? This one makes me laugh, quick shag, ain’t that right buddy?” Braeden thoughtlessly worded, his eyes going wide in an instant as the fans quickly tended to the realisation of what he had meant. “Fuck, oops I guess.”

To say that you were furious was an understatement; you could feel an ache in your hands, wanting to tear the idiot into dismal pieces until there was nothing salvageable left to fix.

“You guess?” Dylan snickers, covering his mouth with his hand whence he saw your murderous expression conquer features. It was vastly more terrifying than any anger you had ever portrayed, and he could feel the couch moving as Braeden turned, and squirmed from the sight.

“Lemasters, imagine your head on a stick. That is going to happen, when I get my hands on you, your gonna turn cold as I strangle the living shit outta-“ Ashton grabbed you, as your arms tried to grasp and throttle your band mate, flopping in the air, intently furious at his revealing slip up.

“I think imma go.” He bolted, and as you struggled out of Ashton’s grip, you ran after him, out your front door and through the modesty of your building.

“She forgot her key.” Ashton noted, coming around and sitting with the remaining pair on the sofa. “How one of you think it’ll take for them to return?”

“As long as it takes for her to kill him.” Dylan grasps his phone back, fluttering his gaze over the comments. “They’re kinda cute together, found my new OTP. Sorry Dylan and Lydia. Oh don’t worry, that’s fine, we gotta take what we get and currently y/n’s not getting any because we have a tendency to cockblock her.”

“It’s our duty as the men of the band.” Cole spoke, a scream reverberating through from the hallway, audible to those online that were watching the two worlds merging.

“I think she got him.” Ash said, smirking lightly, as he heard your voice bellow out in rage against the male. Yep, your band was messy, but his wasn’t much different. He could certainly get used to it.

#ashton irwin x you #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin fluff #ashton imagine #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fic #ashton fanfiction #ashton fluff #ashton irwin x y/n #5sos x reader #5sos au #5sos imagines #5sos one shot #5sos imgaines #5sos imagine #5sos x you #5sos x oc #5sos fic

133 notes · View notes

elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Never Nothing- Extra # 2

Another little extra for one of my favorite series!! Soft domestic fluff meets angst... There will be a follow up to this one, eventually.

For @the-darkdragonfly who wanted this to be a 12 part series… we’re halfway there baby

Rated T, mostly for language

~4300 words

Get added to my tag list (I keep one for everything!)

Read on Ao3

Read the rest of the series

Read my other stuff

~~~~

“Stop it.”

“I’m only trying--”

“No, stop it.”

“My love, if you’d just--”

“I don’t want to!”

“--you may find that you feel better.”

“I won’t. I will never feel better, ever, for as long as I live. I will feel exactly this horrible every second for the rest of my miserable life.”

Killian sighs softly, smiling at her despite how much it pisses her off and running his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so uncomfortable.”

“Having a baby in August is not a good plan.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’m sure you must be feeling rather miserable.”

She nods, pouting. “Extremely miserable.”

He softly kisses the tip of her nose, taking out the sunscreen he’s been begging her to wear and squirting some into his hands. “Now, just imagine how hot you’d be if we were still in Phoenix.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, leaning forward just enough for him to get her back.

“You’re the one who suggested we come to the beach.”

She glares up at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her brows covering her eyes almost completely. “You’re on thin ice.”

“I think you’ll find there’s no ice this time of year, my darling. It’s very hot out; it would melt.”

He can’t blame her for being miserable. At 37 weeks pregnant in late July, she can’t seem to ever get comfortable. Her back hurts her endlessly, her hips are sore, she’s been suffering with horrible heartburn, and the mood swings are difficult to keep up with.

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

“Why don’t we get into the water? A bit of buoyancy is sure to help your back.”

She sighs in defeat and says, “I’ll probably just get sea sick. Or eaten by a shark. Or stung by a jellyfish.”

He kisses her nose once more and takes her hand, hoisting her off of the chaise lounge and placing his palm on the small of her back where he knows she’s sore. “I’ll fight off the sharks and the jellyfish, my love.”

“Promise?” she asks as she waddles towards the shore with him.

“Of course.”

She squeals as she tries to get into the chilly water, but once they’re in and she’s used to the cold, she relaxes a bit. His heart flutters when she leans back against his chest, letting him bear her weight as he runs his hand along her bump and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

Feeling her pressed against him makes the blood rush through his veins, and he’s glad for the cold water keeping any obvious signs of his arousal at bay. He’s always found her unbelievably sexy, but seeing her in her yellow bikini, her bump on full display, is enough for him to have almost kept her home today.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she grumbles, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the waves. “And no, we’re not doing it in the ocean.”

“I would perish at the thought of sullying your purity on a public beach, love.”

“Purity,” she scoffs. “I’m knocked up at 22. Nothing pure about it.”

He kisses her neck, then her cheek, and holds her close to himself, his bare wrist pressed to the side of her belly and his hand holding it tenderly. “We've talked about this, love,” he murmurs against her skin. “How this child has come to be is not important. What’s important is how fiercely the two of us love him.”

“I know,” she agrees softly, dropping her head to his shoulder and sighing as she lets herself relax further into his hold and into the gentle current of the sea. “I just wish… sometimes I just wish you were his dad.”

He sways the two of them together gently, letting the waves carry them, and reminds her, “I fully intend to be. Biology isn’t really a factor here, my love.”

She hums happily as she lets him support every ounce of her, effectively floating just below the surface with him holding her up. “I just feel… I love this baby more than anything. I don’t regret having him, I just kind of wish you'd been the one to knock me up.”

“Me too,” he laughs, “but it’s alright, because this child will be as much my son as any that I sire.”

“I love you. Sorry I’m a bitch.”

“You’re the furthest thing from it, darling. I’ll not hear you talking about yourself in such a way.”

She hums again and shrugs. “I could probably chill out a bit. I’ve been pretty snappy.”

“Well, you’re nine months pregnant.”

“Maybe I’ll keep being bitchy after the baby’s born.”

“I hope so. I like you when you’re fired up.”

She lies in his arms for a while, content to float almost weightlessly in the water as the pressure of the babe she carries is finally relieved. He feels the lad kicking about beneath the water, likely entranced by the dancing waves, and chuckles softly each time he gets a strike to his palm.

“What would you like for dinner, my love?” he asks after a long silence falls between them.

“Chinese food,” she answers immediately.

“That’s a nice dream. What do you actually want, Miss High Blood Pressure?”

“Baaaabe,” she groans, tossing her head back against his shoulder again and gripping his forearms. “I don’t want grilled chicken.”

“You don’t have to have grilled chicken. We can stop for fish.”

“The baby wants lo mein.”

“He can have some after he’s born and his mother isn’t at risk for preeclampsia.”

She grumbles some more, her words incoherent and inaudible over the sound of the water lapping around them. “Chicken,” she finally concedes. “But only if you make that sauce you made last week.”

With a snort, he asks, “you mean the one with the bacon in it?”

“That’s the one.”

“Alright, love. Let’s get you out of the water before you give birth to a raisin.”

“You’ve gotta work on your dad jokes.”

~~~~

The days seem to be getting longer and longer, time refusing to pass at a normal pace as she lives in constant torture and betrayal of her own body. She loves being pregnant, honestly, but it’s becoming a bit tiring. The baby she’s hauling around is heavy, and her back is killing her. Killian’s being very wary of her slightly elevated blood pressure when all she wants is Chinese food and chicken nuggets. Her mom still remembers her days as a perinatal nurse and won’t stop accidentally scaring her when she talks about what she’s seen during labor.

Killian’s looking forward to the delivery, and she tries not to let that piss her off. Of course, she’s more than elated to see him so excited for their child to be born, and she’s so lucky to have a partner who will be there for her throughout the whole thing. But each time he tries to show her something he’s read in a book, or a breathing exercise they can try together during contractions, she wants to chuck something at him. After all, she doesn’t believe that he’s truly ready for what her body will be doing in just a few short weeks.

“During a contraction, I can try to massage your lower back if you’re standing. How does that sound?”

“Standing?” she asks doubtfully. “I can barely stand during cramps.”

“Don’t let him fool you; the massages don’t help,” Granny says ominously while she places her plate before her. While he’s been very strict about her diet, Killian can’t keep her from getting her French toast from Granny’s on Sunday mornings.

“And did you have a walking epidural when you delivered in the Enchanted Forest, Granny?” he asks, his tone sarcastic.

She rolls her eyes as she places his eggs in front of him.

Taking a deep breath with her eyes squeezed shut, Emma places her hand on the top of her bump as a zip of hot pain rushes up her chest and into her throat. Killian’s silent and still as he watches her, holding his fork above his plate as his brows furrow while she waits for it to pass. Once the pain subsides, he asks, “alright?”

“Heartburn,” she breathes. He pushes her glass of water towards her encouragingly as she breathes steadily. “Damn.”

“It won’t be long, love.”

“Yeah, he better make an appearance soon. I wanna meet him so bad, and I wouldn’t mind if the indigestion went away.”

“Morning,” Ruby says happily as she refills Killian’s mug, much to Emma’s jealous vexation.

“Morning Ruby. What’s the report for this week?” he asks, happily going along with her perception of herself as the town crier.

“Not much, but there’s someone new in town. Can you believe that? The dwarves are doing some research to find out if that means we can leave.”

“Well, that will certainly be interesting,” he agrees, giving Emma a happy smile. They haven’t even bothered to attempt to leave themselves, although it’s suspected that they can.

“And everyone is excited to have a newcomer.”

“I’m sure he must be a really interesting character, what with him wanting to come to Storybrooke.”

Emma snorts, digging into her breakfast once her least favorite pregnancy symptom subsides completely.

“I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard he is kind of an ass.”

Moments later, her parents bustle into the diner and greet her with a broad smile as they approach them. “Hi honey!” her mom says happily.

“Morning,” she smiles.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she and David scoot the two of them down in their booths. “How’s my sweet little grandson?”

Mary Margaret places a gentle hand over Emma’s bump and she stiffens just a bit. It always feels weird to have anyone but Killian put their hands on her belly. “Okay. He keeps flopping around and giving me heartburn.”

She hums in understanding, patting her belly. “Have you heard about someone new being in town?”

“We were just briefed by Ruby,” Killian answers.

“Well, I met him very briefly. He’s handsome and very charming.”

“I don’t think Emma or Hook care much about that, Snow,” David says, and Emma nods.

“Well, I heard he’s coming here for breakfast today. Isn’t that exciting? You two won’t be the newcomers anymore.”

Emma laughs and nods through another bite. “I guess that’s true.”

They continue to chat through their meal, David talking about his job as an animal control officer. Apparently, they’re thinking about adopting a dog he’d rescued a week ago, and Emma’s only seen him beam like this a few times in the short time she’s known him. Things are good, the French toast isn’t giving her heartburn, she thinks she’s going to have a good day.

Until the bell above the door rings.

And he walks in.

She takes in a gasping breath, her eyes bugging out of her head as she swings her head away from the door. “Alright?” Killian asks her softly, leaning over the table and taking her hand.

She shakes her head and feels his body go rigid with panic. If they weren’t trapped in the booth by her parents, she would grab his hand and run out the back door of the diner to escape him.

“Heartburn?” Killian asks softly, not yet alerting her parents of her sudden shift in mood. “Braxton Hicks? Contractions?!”

“No,” she croaks.

“What is it, angel? Talk to me.”

She chances a look towards the door and sees him talking with Ruby, probably flirting with her shamelessly. Then, she looks back at Killian and whispers, “Neal.”

He raises a brow in thought and then she watches as the pieces of the puzzle click into place. He nods once, looking towards the door and grimacing. Ruby starts to guide Neal towards a table and Mary Margaret gives him a friendly, excited wave before Emma can stop her. She wants to put her head through the table; maybe he won’t see her if she does that.

The only saving grace is the fact that she can spread her legs out and tuck her bump under the table. The last thing she wants right now is for him to find out that he fertilized the egg that became her son.

“Mary Margaret, right? Hi,” he greets casually. “And this must be your husband, and--”

He’s staring, but not at her. He’s gaping at Killian.

“What the… Hook?”

Killian looks as baffled as Emma must, and he gives her a look of confusion that tells her he has no idea what’s going on. Only, when he looks at her, so does Neal.

“Emma?!”

“You two know each other?”

“Oh my god,” she grumbles, dropping her head to her folded arms on the table. She’d pushed her plate away, unable to eat anything more as the stress of her sperm donor making an appearance in her life eats away at her.

“Darling, perhaps we should--” Before he can continue, she kicks him under the table, not wishing to let Neal know anything personal about her, especially the fact that she and Killian are together and that she’s expecting a baby in a few weeks.

“Darling? Are you two, like, dating or something?”

“Emma and Ho-- Killian live together,” her mother supplies, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Huh,” Neal says in response. “You sure do move on fast.”

“Mate, that’s not--”

“I’m not your mate, pirate.”

Killian chuckles awkwardly and asks, “do we know each other?”

Neal looks like he’s ready to snap, perhaps jump across the table and strangle Killian at his cocky response, but he’s interrupted by the door opening again and Mr. Gold entering the diner. “Bae,” he calls, not yet taking notice of what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. “What are you doing?”

“Bae,” Killian breathes, staring up at Neal and Mr. Gold in astonishment. “You… you’re Neal?”

“What is going on?” Emma asks through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to escape. The position she’s put herself in in order to hide her bump is horribly uncomfortable on her back (and she probably looks ridiculous), and all she wants to do now is go home and sit on her new couch.

“What’s going on is your boyfriend is a piece of shit,” Neal spits at her. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“What, like I picked you? Lot of good that did me, what with the police, and the court hearings, and the community service, and the--”

“Honey… This is Neal? I thought your name was Bae.”

“It was,” Neal grumbles back, turning towards his father and then back to Emma. “You told your parents about me?”

“Well, she kind of had to,” David responds condescendingly. “What with the--”

“Dad. Please stop.”

“The what?”

“Son, let’s go enjoy our breakfast and leave the family drama for later.”

The baby starts wiggling just as another bout of heartburn curses her, and she hisses, pushing her fist against her chest and leaning forward even more until she’s in an awkward position. “Honey, you need some tums. I told you, they’re safe for the ba--”

“I’m fine,” she seethes, swallowing and breathing deeply through the feeling of lava crawling up her throat. She wants to leave so badly, but the moment she moves to stand, her pregnancy will become more than obvious.

“Family drama,” Neal laughs. “That’s rich, isn’t it, Hook? First my mom and now my girlfriend?”

Emma glares up at him, practicing her mom-look. “Go away,” she insists.

He scoffs and says, “Ems, come on. Let's get you out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bae is Neal?” Killian asks through continued astonishment, looking down at his hand with his mouth agape, his brows furrowed.

“Stop calling me that,” Neal snaps. “You lost your right to talk to me when you killed my mother and sold me to Pan.”

Emma knows this isn’t true; Killian told her the story about the Crocodile murdering his first love in front of him. He told her about how he found her son years later and wanted to raise him as his own. She just had no idea that her son was… Neal. Evidently, Killian didn’t either.

“Neal, go away. Leave us alone like you left me to rot.”

“I did that for your own good. You had to break the curse.”

“Right,” she scoffs. She wants nothing more than to rub in his face the fact that he abandoned her, homeless and poor and pregnant, but she holds in her anger. Truthfully, Neal leaving was one of the better things to have happened to her. It gave her Killian and their baby. It brought her to her family. It helped her find out who she is.

Those facts don't make his betrayal sting any less, though.

“Killian, maybe you should take Emma home,” her mother suggests through the haze of anger and confusion surrounding the table. He looks up at Snow, his jaw still dropped towards the floor and his eyes swimming with the guilt of his past, and nods.

“Aye,” he agrees, shaking his head and taking Emma’s hands. “Come, love. Let’s sail away.”

She wants nothing more than to agree, to nod and smile at him, taking his hands and letting him lead her out of the diner, but Neal remains firmly planted outside of their booth. If she stands now, she’ll reveal herself. She looks at Killian meaningfully with wide eyes, then glances down towards her belly and up in Neal’s direction.

He understands effortlessly and turns towards Neal, asking, “do you mind, mate? We’d like to head out.”

Neal rolls his eyes and concedes, stepping away from their booth and towards his father, and Mary Margaret and David stand to give them a path out of their seats. They're almost home free-- she can see the light at the end of the diner-- Killian leading the way and effectively hiding the evidence of her pregnancy. Or so she thinks.

Just as Killian’s hand reaches the door, about to push it open and gain their sweet escape, Ruby cuts them off with an excited greeting to Emma, reaching to give her a hug as she usually does and asking, “how’s my favorite little nephew doing? What is it now; three weeks to go?”

Emma freezes, eyes wide and face pale as Killian’s back goes stiff in front of her. The diner is silent, the early breakfast rush long over, and she knows Neal heard her. It’s confirmed when she hears the scratch of the chair against the floor as he stands and calls, “what, so he knocked you up, too? What a stand-up guy.”

The blood in her veins chills at his statements. Her jaw starts hurting with how forcefully she’s clenching it. She watches Killian turn around and fears that he’s going to confront Neal with the truth. In reality, though, he turns and looks only at her, taking her hands in his easily despite the fact that one is missing, courtesy of her ex’s father. “It’s alright,” he whispers, showing her just how much he understands her. Showing her that he can tell exactly what she’s thinking; can read the fear in her eyes at the thought of Neal finding out that this child is technically a part of him. “We can go,” he tells her.

She can’t help but to spin around, half turning to face Neal with tearfilled eyes, looking at him just once so that she can remind herself of the mistakes she’s made in her past. So that she can compare the despair he brought her with the joy that Killian brings so effortlessly. But it’s a mistake. She watches as his face falls, seemingly seeing just how pregnant she really is.

“Is that… are you…” He looks up at the ceiling, flexing his fingers as if counting on them. Counting the months since they were last together. Realizing it’s been almost nine months since their last encounter. Taking in just how large her bump is. “Emma…?”

She should just turn around and leave, or ignore him; refuse to give attention to his thoughts so that she doesn't spur them on. But instead, she lets out a choked sob and buries her face in her hands as her tears flow freely.

Killian’s hand is on her back immediately, running soothing circles along her skin as he moves to stand in front of her and blocks her view of the rest of the world, consuming her with only his ocean-blue eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispers again.

“Did she say three weeks left? Is that…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and although Neal’s voice cuts through the air between them like a knife, all she sees is Killian.

“I wanna go home,” she cries softly, clinging to his hand and hook.

“We will,” he promises.

“Emma, is that my kid?”

She can’t respond. All she can do is tilt her body slightly so that she’s looking past Killian’s right into Neal’s eyes, showing him the truth in her own. She can’t tell him with words that he fathered a child with her, but she knows that the look on her face is enough confirmation when his own pales and he drops back down in his chair.

He only stays there for a second before forcefully standing again, the chair colliding with the floor. Gold begs, “Bae,” reaching his hand towards his son, and Neal violently rips away from his father.

“Don’t!” He shouts. “Fuck.”

Before anyone can say anything, Neal is stalking towards Emma and Killian, and she almost feels nervous for a second, until he brushes past the two of them and slams his way out the door.

~~~~

Her lip trembles as he shuts the door, and she spins into his arms the second he locks it, bursting into tears easily. “He’s gonna take him,” she cries.

“Emma, no. That isn’t going to happen, love.”

She sobs some more, gripping his shirt with white knuckles, nodding into his neck and pulling him as close to herself as she possibly can with the bump between them. “He is.”

“You saw his face when he found out, darling. He has no interest. He’s already running.”

“Everything was so perfect. Now it’s ruined.”

“Nothing is ruined, my love,” he argues. “What makes you even say that?”

She shudders in his arms, whimpering pathetically as the hormones take over and the fear of losing her child consumes her. “I wanted--” she chokes. “I wanted you to be his dad.”

When he pulls away from her, forcing her face from his neck, she cries out again, pained at the thought that she’s losing him, too. “Angel,” he murmurs softly, soothingly. “I am his dad. Perhaps the lad will simply be lucky enough to have two.”

The violence behind her choked breathing is palpable between the two of them, showing him just how distraught she truly is as she asks, “you mean-- you mean you’re not leaving?”

“You silly thing,” he breathes through a gentle laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you really believe that that fool coming into our lives will sway me? I love you. Both of you.”

Her bottom lip trembles again as his hand slides along the side of her belly, the baby kicking against his palm in greeting. The fact that he didn’t stir when faced with his biological father doesn’t get past her as he wiggles against his dad lovingly. She lets out one last soft, whimpering sob and sniffles before saying, “I love you. We both love you.”

He kisses her gently despite the tears and snot, making her laugh lightly. “Bae knows what it is to have an absent father, love. I’m… I’m truly shocked to know that the boy who lived on my ship all those years ago has done this to you. But I do believe that, now that he knows, he’ll do what he can to support you and the little lad. I believe he’ll do the right thing.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to,” she pouts.

He smiles, cupping her cheek, and says, “that’s valid. And I know you're scared. But we’ll just have to sort out what’s best for the little one.”

With a heaving sigh, she drops her forehead to his chest and shuts her eyes. “Right now, what’s best for the little one is a nap.”

“It’s only 10:30,” he jests, but despite his argument, he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards their bedroom. “Need a snack?”

“More French toast.”

“No. An apple.”

“Never mind,” she grumbles, pouting as she collapses on the bed and holds up her feet until he starts pulling her sandals off. He shakes his head as he laughs lightly, running his thumb over her swollen feet and kissing her cankles. “Killian?” she whispers quietly.

“Aye, love?” he asks, almost as softly as he crawls up towards her and helps her lean back onto the bed.

She grunts unattractively as her swollen body flops like a fish across the mattress, drawing a soft smile from his lips. “I’m scared,” she whispers when his front wraps around her back.

“Aye, love. I know.” His hand slides across her giant bump, the baby kicking him gently, and kisses just behind her ear. “But you’re going to be fantastic. You’re so strong, and smart, and capable of anything you set your mind to.”

“Then why can’t I just magic him out of here?”

“Bae?” he asks with a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying since we got home.”

“You are a silly thing. And I love you very much.”

With a contented hum, she pulls him closer to her despite the heat. “I love you, but let me sleep now.”

“As you wish, my angel.”

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx

#Never Nothing #extra #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #never nothing ff #cs fluff #cs angst

41 notes · View notes

clandestine-j · 3 years

Text

GOSSIP GIRL, EP. 5 REACTION & REVIEW

alright

this episode was pretty good, i'm here for this vibe if they continue with it. lots of shit happened, i have feelings about it so lets go!

(this episode also helped me discover i really am a horrible person lol)

ADULTS:

NICK X KATE: Nope! Full stop, don't want it. Bitch you nasty for being friendly with him while posting about his daughter. Nick x Davis is the true otp.

JORDAN & CO: JAIL. Plain and simple, ya'll enjoying this too much. Jail. Please. I beg. Ya'll are sick. A gun in a school and you're Bruce Wayne? Bitch.

KATE: As stated above and addition, I started to be cool with you. You still have to go jail but after serving time, I might be cool with you afterwards. Then you flip flop again went back to doing the worst. Limiting the comments doesn't help. Raggedy.

RAFA: PRISON. And let me tell you, my boy, Aki, he got Fox News in the back of his pocket so, step the fuck back. That's why Max figured yo ass out. GO TO PRISON. PRISON. And he tried to play him for a fool at the end. Prison isn't enough, vanish.

KIKI: SIS! You gotta get it together for your daughter. She can't be the more but, I feel you. Do better, be better. It's not as easy as just saying it but if you have family you can rely on, start to rely. You're daughter her habits from you.

OUR KIDS:

JULIEN: BIG SISTER ENGERY THIS EPISODE. I'M LOVING IT AND LOVING IT. I think she can stop trying a bit now and but I'm here for the connection, I'm here for it all. Quick thinker, knew the circle wasn't tight. She wasn't really there for Audrey but she has been, I think she just got caught up. Since Zoya moved there, they haven't had the chance to just be sisters, to just love each other without any drama. They have not only the past month to make up for but years and she wants to do right by Zoya. I'm glad she realized at the end that, she needed to be there for Audrey but I'm not upset because I get it. I also LOVE that she finally, stood up to Monet and say and get wit it or get it out. Boom. I've been waiting.

OBIE: I wanna ride hard for you because people keep talking about your hair line. I think you need to learn that relationships will have ups and downs and it won't be perfect all of the time. I feel like Obie is chasing perfection, no fights, no problems, just coasting and it won't happen, it'll never happen. Do better. That being said, I'm glad we got something from Obie. I'm glad we got to see him being the Prince of New York. It's hella shady that you didn't just come out with the truth and you wanted to do a song and dance but Obie is doing more and using that name so yes, give me character stuff.

MONET: BYE. No, but really. Amazing one liners as always. I liked the little fight with Julien, I felt a bit of distress, I'm into it. While I did expect her to cross Julien, I didn't expect her to cross Luna and all her hard work, that was dirty but you moving the story and shit so what can I say? I don't think Monet will go for the crown but I could see her finding someone to prop up. I want more of her parents, maybe she has a very bad relationship with her mom? Also, sis, Julien is right, you can't keep jumping clients when they want to change and do up their image. No sis, no. (And you almost tanked Julien's career soooooooooooo)

AUDREY: SIS U WERE SINKING. Okay, so Audrey isn't a character I feel that connected too. She's bitchy, a little less than Lunet but still. So, I have a hard time caring but objectively, you should break up with Aki. You know him by now and maybe it's comfort or you really want to have something. It's okay, break up with him because he's a friend and not the boyfriend you need. You want someone who will let you vent, not solve. Not see. Go live with Julien. The fight with your mom is understandable (And realize that forcing people on her won't work.) because you shouldn't have to be the back bone of the family. The dad line was a low blow, the airport thing was a low blow but you're a teenage girl and what can I say? Nothing, just don't become the woman you hate even though parents are the models. That being said, if I had seen her interacting with her dad more, the line wouldn't have been as low. But I can't tell that he loves her, we don't even get a phone conversation. Do better writers. And I think at the party, she got a chance to see how her mom felt. I don't know what happened to move but I think it has something to do with her meds. Audrey, be a boss. Break up, tell him that ya'll are better as friends because it won't go has bad as you think it will. Move in with Julien (I just want to see it happen.)

ZOYA: I don't even have much to say. My sis was popping off this episode. I got sass, I got questioning her relationship with Obie. Yes, talk about how you feel about him with the girls and go girl stuff. I really felt her when she said she wanted her own friend, writers please give her, her own friends. PLEASE. I'M BEGGING. Simon, you dirty dog. I'm glad Obie got it out but he could've said something to her. I'm sick. I'm more upset that he wasn't a new friend or a love interest. Just ugh. But I liked Zoya this episode, she could worry about normal teenage stuff for the most part without having to worry about being attacked by Monet and Luna.

LUNA: MY GOOD SIS. Just like I didn't expect Monet to turn on her, I didn't expect her to not stand by Monet. I know she was enjoying the Zoya vibe and thought it was cute, she was becoming a bit more friendly sure but I wow, yas. Go off girl. I want to see more of fashion stylist Luna, a Luna sponsored fashion show where Aki models and drama happens? I'd be here for it, I am here for it.

MAX: I was ready to box. Listen. I was ready to fight this point as much as I felt for him. So, the feeling for him. He honestly, believes that Rafa is good for him. And he was catching feelings? He thought Rafa needed him in his life because he had no family, he also has no family in a sense to him at least. So, he's really caught up in this man. And I feel so bad that he said he's sober when he's with him or something along those lines. That's heartbreaking. I'm glad that talk in the end pulled him out of it, I'm glad he realized that he had a hand to play in his friends not wanting to be around him or deal with him. I'm glad he followed them and was in on the hug. Wonderful. Now my dude, you do not deserve Aki, not as a romantic partner or a friend. My boy was seriously worried, and you blew down on him WHILE using a nickname for his nickname....sick. I was ready to throw hands, like. My spirit was not right. That was so low. I keep seeing people say that because Max wasn't in a relationship, Audrey shouldn't feel some type of way and Aki is just letting his hurt roll off because he's worried but while you didn't have a duty in the relationship, you had a duty as a friend, to both of them. You ghost for a week and say nothing, no talking about the blow up or the outing and you running with this little stanky thing, you try to ease back into the group, no. And you still don't deserve Aki's time. Like. My dude did not hit you up after the kiss, he was not checking for you on that dating app, he was interested in other mens, you sat between the couple. Okay. He had been checking on you from jump. Just no. I'm sick of the shit. Never step to my boy like that again.

AKI: MY boy. Lemme get this out the way. You need to listen, not solve or give perspective. Like, she doesn't need it. I get your friends in danger but express how serious you think this is to her. I get that a long-distance relationship might not bother you and you think things will work out because there are bigger problems but talk to her. Re-assure her. Or break up with her her. As I said before, ya'll will not hate each other if you break up. And learn to just, even, pretend or something but you struggle in this aspect. Do better. That being said, Aki, episode MVP. He said, something is off, take him down. My perfect himbo man, said not my watch. And listen, you can't be as pushy because people don't respond but I'm glad you were on it. You knew. You said, I'mma run up on this man and you did. Yes. That being said, stand up for yourself, this boy does not deserve your energy. I get it. You might have a crush, this is bestie but bestie has not been treating you right for a while. And this was a new love. You're too loving, let some of that going at Rafa energy pop out around the friend group. But you a king and you care so much, just re-focus for now. Find you a cute lil thang and make the boy jelly. I need this resolved before I can accept anything canon, fanfics is where I'll be. But overall, Aki was making moves, you gotta learn something from the right wing media mogul.

GROUP: I finally feel like I talk about them as a whole. I wish they would've shown the others being upset by Max's ghosting because ya'll acting lowkey outta pocket and I didn't see anyone but Audrey and Aki check for this boy. Like, do you really care? But he fit into the group hug at the end. I know Monet saw a rising star in Zoya at the bar place, you make this a powerful DUO. YOU KNOW YOU WERE FEELING HER. Luna and Monet roll their eyes Audrey but ya'll bet not play like the three of ya'll don't enjoy gossip, fashion, talking about people and lowkey making fun of Zoya's newbie-ness together. Honestly, I'm happy we got more group interactions and little moments, I can start to kind of see how they were friends for a while even if all of them aren't close.

Random Thoughts:

how was your son missing for two weeks on and off and there isn't more panic, you different but oh no heartbreak

aki is so loving towards everyone's parents, i love it

i also love that he assumed max was with aki

audrey as the child as it worse but her kiki's acting makes me feel for her more lol

the two girls were a bit of fun, i'd like to see monet take them down or build them up for fun

"i'm chuck bass" + the lil pull was great

i feel like max was already thinking about them becoming more when he mentioned audrey pushing him out but i'll take crumbs so he was probs just thinking about sex or the group as a whole

kate get out of nick's life, nick keep her out

zoya stop talking to that woman

jordan eww no, you can have kate

i'll ship obie and aki to get aki with someone that likes him and loves him, they talk, they have do something, i'll take it, whatever

i want throuple and i want akimax but not like this, i can't take the threesome scene unless max say's sorry and aki ducks him for half the episode if it's not that, i don't want it

maybe it's the start of a dream and it ends

(i do really want the ship but i don't trust the writers or the characters)

SIMON, I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU

who or what was max suppose to be?

why am i getting teachers and not family, i've seen jordan just one too many times

rafa prison

obie had shit to do this episode, use the money, i wanna see it

when will a student or random party gain control of gossip girl, give me that

rafa prison

i also think i’m a horrible person because i care more about stopping rafa than audrey’s home life so i was rooting for aki

overall, solid episode, maybe the footing has been found? i'm here for it and ep 6 looks like it's about to pop off

#c;gg #gossip girl reboot #gossip girl hbo #akeno menzies #max wolfe #zoya lott #monet de haan #audrey hope #luna la #obie bergmann iv #julien calloway

27 notes · View notes