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miioouu · 3 years

Note

hey miou sexc 😼 can i request a nice little something of asahi waking up to reader having her hand resting on his dick- like she’s sleeping and it’s innocent (doesn’t have to be a smut fic, i like hcs or little drabbles) - april ⛄️

Hey april bb, no I'm gonna write a whole fic just you wait djdnsjsn Thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Warning: smut, somnophilia....

Light seeping through the window, and cold air coming in. But that's not what woke him up. Your breath fanning over his neck, your hair tickling his face and your scent filling in his lungs. Your head nuzzled in his shoulder, and your hand fisting his shirt, a little habit of yours that he found so cute, but it didn't stay there. Instead, heading south, low, past his chest, past his stomach and resting on his thigh, oh so close to his cock.

He knows you're asleep, your eyes and closed and you chest falling in steady rhythm, he knew it was your unconsciousness. With a little moving, now it's pressing onto his bulge, growing with each passing second. And what was he to do? Bother you and wake you up from sweet slumber? That would be too mean. But he can't take it anymore, not when his mind is going wild, memories of nights before playing and replaging in his head. The time he bent you over the table, had to keep his fingers in your mouth or else his parents would catch you. Or in the backseat of his brand you car, what better to celebrate a new possession than ruin it with your love? Or God, that time you woke him up with a blowjob... Now that he's thinking about it, maybe he should return the favor.

But it wouldn't be Asahi if he didn't go further than needed. Slowly taking your hand away from him, and quietly hovering above you. How proud he of you he was when he removed the cover from your body. Seeing you in nothing but his jersey, as soon as the air hit you, your nipples perking up. And the soft material has ridden up in your slumber, exposing not only your beautiful legs to him, but also your panties and the dark spot that had him licking his lips. Pushing then down your legs, he felt you shiver when the cold air hit your exposed core, the goosebumps on your arms, and the little whimper that came out of you.... But don't worry, you won't be cold for too long. Inserting two figures in your heat, he wanted to tease you and laugh at you for how wet you are for him.... Where you dreaming about him? Is that why you're dripping? Is this why you wanted to wrap your dainty little hand around his big dick.... That's what your unconsciousness want, and it spoke the truth right? So how could he deny you from your deepest needs? Chuckling as he removed his fingers, and even more when your slick webbed between the two digits and glistened in the light. Sliding his own boxers down, revealing his hard, dribbling core. What a shame you're not awake to tell him how big it is, "It's not going to fit Azu... You're soooo big~" and he doesn't care if you're just musing him, he'll relish in your shaky voice.

Rubbing his member through your folds, you're already squirming each time his tip would bump against your clit, it's a miracle how you're still asleep, but he won't complain, it somehow turns him on even more. Inch by inch, sheathing himself in your velvety inside, loving the way your walls clench around him, your breathing becomes louder, your eyebrows furrowing in pleasure. So tight around him, when he woke up, he didn't expect to be buried so deeply inside you, but here he is now, and he's not backing out. His hands gripping your hips tightly, using it as leverage to thrust into you deeper, hit that spot inside you and feel you trying to milk him. His mouth gaped, letting out deep but quiet groans, sweat running down his face, the cold weather outside not enough to cool him down, his desire burning, boiling from within. Still hazy and exhausted with sleep, but he pushed through, loving the little oh's and ah's you're emitting, the curve your body's creating each time his head kissed your cervix, pressing against it tightly, harshly. And you look so so sweetly innocent right now, not suspecting anything, not knowing anything. Your body's natrual reaction to him, makes hin so proud, an ego boost for the normally so shy man. You're squeezing around him, you're sucking him in, it's actually difficult for him to pull out and slam back in, and it's so good, so good. He can't last longer, coating your insides white, and like dominos, his own orgasm triggered yours. The knot in you snapping, breaking without your knowledge, gushing all over him. And he wanted to stay with you and see your reaction for when you wake up filled with his cum, but he had to go for work.... At least now, he has something to push hin through hard labor day....

#asahi x reader #asahi azumane x reader #asahi azumane #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #smut #haikyuu asahi #request

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goldafterglow · 4 years

Text

embellished lungs

Summary: Ezra buys a pretty thing for a pretty thing.

Request: hc about what renders Ezra speechless 😶 - @lose-eels (this is not even what you asked for but fuckin here ig im sorry sgkfjdshg)

Pairing: Ezra x reader

Word Count: 2.6k+

Warnings: a big fat drabble?, very really soft, not beta read and tbh barely even normal read i read this maybe twice oops

Author’s Note: i almost put this just like under the ask but I’m not gonna sit here and act like this is a drabble bc i’m a clown. i don’t want to talk about it. and spitting this out bc I was soft for Ezra and @mrpascals made me

Gif Cred: my wife and my baby @pascalplease

masterlist | taglist modifications

He spies it in the open market while he’s stocking up on supplies.

The day is hot, the Sun bearing down on its disciples with a violent red fury, but it’s light is strong, bright. Everything is reflective, hot to the touch from boiling in the heat, and all of the creatures begin to melt together like dyed wax to form one big discernable blob, if you really squint. Ezra’s sweat escapes the barrier of his brows and leaks past his lashes, dragging across his eyes and stinging a little, blurring his vision and dripping onto his arms, but he doesn’t care. He’s far too exhilarated.

The market in itself is absolutely brilliant to him; he’s always been enthralled by this, by people and pretty things, and to be completely surrounded by both felt like something akin to sensory overload. His heart is racing at the sight of people traversing the dirt road, loitering and browsing through produce colored so vibrantly he wonders if the bright red apples and deep indigo berries have been dipped in the tinted glow of fairies that dance in the forest. And he’s utterly taken by the art and trinkets. He’s always had a little soft spot for art - a tender, exposed section of his beating flesh that is so sensitive, so delicate and so easy to provoke. And right now, he seems like he’s subject to a battering ram, pounding against his chest in the best way possible.

His eyes dart around quickly as he tries his best to take everything in. He finds himself cherishing every little interaction, every stranger whose shoulder he is forced to brush in an attempt to make his way through the market, every vendor that begs to him, calls to him to try “just one last berry sir. I’m sure your lover will be delighted by the raspberries from yesterday’s harvest.” He ended up buying a quaint six ounces just so that he could feed them to you. But that would be a treat for later.

And just like that, he is thinking of you. The prettiest, most beautiful thing. A sculpture with imperfections so perfect that he knows it must have taken eons to craft you out of gold and diamonds and the soft fluff of hummingbird feathers and butterfly wings. You are art, a walking, breathing, touchable piece that he gets to admire up close. It’s a privilege, really, to have been gifted with Kevva’s finest handiwork.

As his pupils peruse the stands, admiring his surroundings, they suddenly become frozen in place, permanently stuck on a little trinket that’s caught his attention: a necklace. The gem sitting in the center isn’t aurelac; it’s much more vibrant, much more dramatic and almost rainbow when he looks at it from different angles. The chain isn’t long, and knowing you the gem would fall right between your collarbones. He can already envision you wearing it, like a child flicking watercolors onto the Venus de Milo, but he wants to see his deep green paint draped around your shoulders. The way he sees it when you wear his clothing, when you’re adorned with bruises of his passion like stars adorn the sky, when you wear him. It’s intoxicating, seeing that he’s had any impact on your life and that you parade it around like a trophy. That you think about him without him prompting you to do so - not that he isn’t constantly in your presence. But he wants to buy it just so that he can see you wear it. Perhaps even only wear it.

He’s already thinking about how fucking gorgeous you would look in it. He is thinking about putting it on you, tugging on it ever so lightly in a way that signals to you - that is, rather than exerting any true force on you - that he wants a kiss. Perhaps pulling on it a little harder so that metal bites your skin and you can feel it, feel him digging into the soft flesh of your neck. Now he’s imagined a thousand scenarios in which he can have his way with you just by getting you to wear this piece, and he has to purchase it.

When the vendor finally hands it to him, packaged with care and placed deep into the hollow of a black velvet box, he finds that it barely fits in his pocket. He doesn’t care, though, because it’s too exquisite an accessory to be thrown in with the other supplies and it’s too precious for him to take it out of the box. He’s excited when he comes back to the pod, back home where you are.

Home is you.

He assumes you must’ve heard him come in, the pod door loud and rambunctious as he dumps the bags into the center of the pod space and then crawls in himself - it was hard enough with two arms, nonetheless one. He lets out a sight as if to let the excitement drain out his vessels and into the atmosphere of the cockpit, mingling with the peace and solitude to create a soft buzz that zings through his ears and vibrates his eyes. The exhilaration from being the market was utterly electric, but he is home now. He can crawl into you, let you absorb into him, and he likes how you can make his heart race a million miles and yet also pacify him, a cold compress to his aching soul to help reduce inflammation. He wants to maintain that semblance of the intricate pastel harmony, adorned in lilac and peach hues. So he stands in the middle of the cockpit and closes his eyes, lets himself sway to the rhythm of his lungs for a moment. Just a fraction of solitude, and he doesn’t mind because ever since he met you he has never felt lonely, not even when he’s alone. He always feels you with him.

Once his head has cleared, he palms at his pocket where the little black box still resides, as if to check that he hadn’t dreamt up some fantasy ornament that would look so perfect on you. It’s still there; of course it is, and he feels foolish for thinking that the pretty butterflies would have fluttered it out and flown it away, but sometimes he wonders if the same thing will ever happen to you. If one morning he will wake up and you will have migrated with the birdies, off to seek true warmth because you’re not real, because nothing so good as you could ever be caged by him.

He steps into your shared bedroom and spies you with your back to the entrance. The room is cool, but you’ve elected to wear his shirt, even foregoing pants. His favorite outfit of yours, and he knows you know it. You’re wearing headphones, something he’d picked up for you on your last supply run, and he can tell you’re playing one of those instrumental stations you so adore listening to when you were working. A mutely-colored map is stretched out onto the desk, and he’s not even sure you can focus the music because your mind is moving faster than your poor hand can keep up as you mark up a new dig site. He almost feels bad for interrupting you while you’re in such deep concentration, your forehead smashed into wrinkles without even noticing, but Ezra cannot resist his greed for your attention. Ever so gently, he places his hand on your shoulder from behind so as not to startle you.

You almost immediately register the delicate touch, turning the radio off and pulling your headphones off your ears so you can give this kind artist your undivided attention - Kevva herself knows he's earned it. You turn your head to face him, craning your neck back so you can take his softly smiling depiction like pressing a plush blanket into your face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you coo, letting your pen fall tumultuously from your hand. The sound of it clanging against the table and then rolling around to a stop fills the room, but you can’t hear it; Ezra is talking now.

“Hey, sweet stardust,” he greets back, voice orange and warm like the heat that simmers under the stars during the summer at midnight.

Comfortable.

“Hey” was never his preferred salutation, and he’d tried to omit it from his vocabulary for so long, but he started to notice that he likes it when you say to him. Like a little pearl of your voice, so sweet like honey with the honeycomb still mixed in, a little grainy and so cheeky.

“Did you get everything we need?” you ask, beginning to stand to that you can press a hand to his chest, grounding him to the pod and to your sanctuary soul. Ezra grins wide, unable to hide his excitement at your words.

“I in fact exceeded our needs, sweet rose bud,” he says with a pride that fills up your chest and makes you want to hold him tight because you love when he gets giddy like this, with the childlike enthusiasm of showing your parents the shitty drawing you made or your ugly macaroni art. Ezra is light, his tone airy. “I happened to spot a gem that reminded me of your vision and I couldn’t resist the urge to get it.”

You brow furrows a little, not out of confusion but out of curiosity. Ezra’s taste has always inspired you, and you knew his never ending quest for art is always in an attempt to find beauty in everything. You don’t even have to look at it to know that it will be stunning because his stamp of “pretty” approval is your gold standard.

He pulls the box out and opens it facing you so that you can get a good look, really admire it, and you are already taken by the shimmering pendant.

“Oh Ezra, it's - it’s utterly magnificent,” you gush, and he can spot that little glimmer in your eyes that you get when you’re looking at something that you’re enamored with; they way you look when you’re gazing at him. You raise your chin to look at him, his cheeks rosy with delight and sweet eyes crinkled at the corners. “Put it on me.”

It’s not so much of a demand as it is a gentle instruction; you know he wants to, know he’s been thinking about it since he bought it, and you want to be open to him. You want to invite him into your heart, inside of the flower garden of your chest, with open arms because he deserves to feel wanted.

You help him pull the chain out of the bottom of the box, keeping one end in your right hand and letting him take the clasp in his left. He wills himself to move slowly, to savor every little stimulation you send through his skin as he steps behind you. His fingers press against your clavicle, tracing along the bone before traveling up over the valley of your shoulder, tips of his hands brushing against your throat. He is feeling you, mapping out your body because he’ll never get to see an angel in his life but he’s certain you must be the spitting image.

You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and intoxicating as a small film of dampness coats your exposed back and neck. Your right hand rests at the nape of your neck, waiting expectantly, but you don’t rush him. He takes his sweet, sugary time, because the surface of your skin feels like he’s running his fingers through a field of silicone needles, firm but harmless as they stimulate a sensation he never knew he could feel before he touched you for the first time. You’re addictive, the best high he’s ever gotten, and he almost lets his hand lose all abandon and travel so carefully down the front of your body, palming your breast along the way and pressing right into your diaphragm before he keeps going down, down, down…

Almost.

But he will save it for a later time, especially since he’d been fantasizing about you wearing the necklace like a carefully chiseled bust is adorned with sashes. So finally, after what feels like hours of roaming and teasing, you feel that calloused, worn sensation of your lover’s fingers seeking solace against yours. You pin your breath to your lungs, not daring to let it go as you wait for the heavy release of his hand indicating that the necklace is secure. But even once you feel it, even as you let your right hand fall down at your side, Ezra does not take his hand off of you. You don’t want him to.

Slowly, so that he never has to cease his touch, you turn to face him. You’re still looking down at the pendant, in awe of how the gem rests so perfectly between your collarbones. You can’t see Ezra’s adoring gaze, his completely awestruck fixation on how ethereal you are to him. Like you’re emitting a golden glow, too hot to touch and yet begging, inviting his fingers to feel and press and hold.

Celestial.

He feels his emotions expand in his stomach, diaphragm threatening to spasm. His hand trails up to your chin, palming your jaw as he tenderly lifts your line of sight so that he can see your pretty eyes.

“You’re divine,” he mumbles to you, not wanting to disrupt the tight silence, so tense he’s afraid of speaking too loud lest it break and snap against his cheek leaving an angry raised brand.

Overwhelmed with appreciation, you balance your hands on his shoulders and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting it linger so you can savor the honeysuckle dew on his skin. “I love it,” you whisper with a grin.

Ezra giggles.

When you pull back to face him proper, his face is utterly red. His smile reaches the lobes of his ears, bashful and boyish like his belly has just been tickled by the sweetest of baby chicks, and he can barely get a word out. He can’t speak. His mind is in overdrive, completely inundated with a blistering adoration for you and your approval because you said you loved it. His gift is not a splash of children’s watercolors; it is a clean swipe of gold running along your jaw, accenting your beauty and emphasizing just how exquisite you are to him.

“Yeah?” he managed, a soft giggle still passing his lips like the first cries of a baby deer, the first flutters of a newly hatched butterfly.

Adorable.

You can’t resist the urge to giggle back, placing a hand at the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a true kiss on his glittery lips. It only lasts seconds, however, because Ezra can’t stop smiling and you can’t stop giggling, so you both settle for the blissful solitude of pressing your foreheads against one another, breathing in each other's air and taking up the same space.

“It’s gorgeous, Ezra. Thank you,” you whisper lightly so that the wisps of air tickle his upper lip, and suddenly he is so inclined as to press his left arm into the small of your back so that you’re so much closer and kiss you the way you deserve; a dynamic series of long, deep, searing kisses that send you to the clouds and drop you into an endless pit of lavish fluff at the same time. You don’t know how he does this, makes you feel like you don’t exist and that there isn’t anything in the world but you and him, and you often wonder if it’s because Ezra is within you, or that your broken parts and his broken parts make some hauntingly majestic sculpture of its own; something better than the fucking Venus de Milo or Athena or Great Sphinx because it should be something so hideous and yet it feels to utterly priceless to you.

It’s precious.

ppl that asked to be tagged: @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @cryptkeepersoul @buckstaposition @the-feckless-wonder @cocoatales @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul

ppl that did not ask no ma’am no sir: @ergotautology @dindjarindiaries @pascalplease

again, you can join/leave my taglist here :)

#iris writes #ezra #ezra prospect x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect x you #ezra x reader #pedro pascal x you #shgkdjfhgd #this one was #huh #idk how i feel abt this lol #hope you beautiful bitches like it though :)

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

Atsumu, Akaashi, and Iwaizumi w/ a Kindergarten Teacher S/O

Atsumu, Akaashi, and Iwaizumi x reader - headcanons

request: “i just read your fic ab the reader being a kindergarten teacher and i LOVED IT. do you think we can get another one but with atsumu, akaashi, and iwa? 🥺 I LOVE YOUU AND YOUR WRITING AHHH”

a/n: ahh my laptop has my asks jacked up rn, so sorry @parkersvibes !! but i had the exact request copied down! this is a part 2 to this post :)) really hope you like it and thank u for being so uber sweet, i love this hc💕💕

warnings: none!

wc: 1040

—-

Atsumu:

okay please don’t be surprised by this - Atsumu doesn’t exactly like kids

he’s currently dealing w/ an ongoing children’s volleyball introductory camp that his team was forced to run and he is horrified

ends up making several of them cry, which totally turned him off to the whole “kids” thing

however, he also had the chance to meet you at that camp

he noticed how gentle you were around them, helping them up when they fell, praising them for their “hard work”

he lacked that softness. the comforting, encouraging kind…

so before he even realizes it, he’s walked up to you and started flirting (it’s second nature for this boy at this point)

“What’s a cutie like you...” He’ll look you up and down, “doin’ round here?” He tilts his head, a smirk forming on his lips

“I dunno? Maybe I’m here to cheer up all the crying kids you keep sending to me?” You reply sassily

you’re just... annoyed? the stupid face he’s making after messing with these poor kids is pissing you off

Atsumu wasn’t expecting any sass from you, but since then he’s been pining after you at every break and scheming for new ways to catch your attention

it turns out, you’re the kindergarten teacher for a majority of the little one’s attending and you signed up to chaperone and support them over the next couple of weeks

like, he has no capacity for their complaints and misunderstandings of a sport since he’s been playing professionally for years now

you’re officially an angel in his eyes

not only are you drop-dead gorgeous, but you can also #1 understand what they’re saying?? And #2 you genuinely care about them, their feelings (trivial or not,) and their experience at the camp

he’ll definitely ask you out after the camp is over

you turn him down twice lmao

but the third time!! he doesn’t use any lines or sensual approaches, he’s just chill about it

he’ll ask if you want to go roller skating… so you’re finally just like

“What the hell, why not.”

i mean he is cute and funny, so what could go wrong?

he ended up acknowledging that he sucks at dealing with kids and that he’d try to be gentler around them…

like if he’s actually willing to work on being “okay” with kids, that really means something, bc wow they bother him sometimes

he just adores you, bby

Akaashi:

i imagine that he’d also be a kindergarten teacher at your school

he was quiet for a long time, preferring to observe you and his new coworkers over time, but over the years y’all have gotten super close

there’s now a daily rhythm between you two:

you both meet up in the morning and put on a pot of coffee in the breakroom

he’ll meet your tired eyes with his own. the dark circles make it apparent that y’all are still waking up

you’ll send each other knowing, goofy smiles bc your sleep schedules are so wrecked right now, especially since it’s almost time for the holidays

the schools required art projects are getting out of hand and all the teachers are kinda pissed about it

but instead of complaining, Akaashi will suggest you both go shopping for materials and plan ideas together

it seems like a perfectly normal suggestion, bc you’re teachers and this would be more “efficient”, right? totally not an excuse to hangout w/ you

you’re in for such a treat

he comes to pick you up that Saturday, a coffee ready for you in his hand (he remembered the exact way you make it in the classroom)

also, he’s got this great scarf and jacket combination going on (like this: here)

sorry but not really, this totally turns into a date and you both completely forget about the supplies you were supposed to buy

like, yeah you’ll make it to the store, but he’ll ask you if you’re hungry (which you are) and suddenly he’s taking you to the ramen shop you mentioned weeks ago while on your lunch break

at some point, he’ll have you laughing about some story about a kid from class who keeps acting up

you’ll end up falling out of your chair from laughing so hard and he’ll start laughing at you

while you’re both still snickering, he crouches down to the ground and asks you to this with him again next Saturday

you’re so down (literally)

y’all are the cutest teacher couple. ever.

Iwaizumi:

i see Iwa as being a young, single dad in this situation ✨✨✨

you first meet at the beginning of the school year for a parent-teacher conference and it actually goes so smoothly

he brings his adorable baby girl (your new student), her hair in pigtails, and she’s grabbing onto daddy Iwaizumi’s leg

you first introduce yourself to the girl and then give Iwa a bright smile

i mean, as a teacher, you do your best to be professional and polite, but you can’t help but ask him about himself and crack a few jokes

he and his daughter deem you precious, immediately.

Iwaizumi is so protective of his shy, little girl, but he finds himself very comfortable with letting you teach and watch over her

he definitely finds you on facebook when he gets home and realizes y’all have mutual friends

so instead of just adding you as a friend, like a normal person, he decides to message your mutuals and devise something to meet you in person

what can I say? the dude hasn’t been in the dating field for awhile, so he’s not sure what he’s doing right now

basically you get set up for a one sided blind date (oop)

you find yourself waiting at an ice cream shop for a guy with short, dark-brown hair, an athletic build, and gorgeous brown eyes

but what they didn’t tell you was that he would be bringing a little someone along with him

at first, you just see his little girl waving to you

you stand up, giving her a big hug when she runs up to you

then you look up

oh… OH

Iwaizumi matches that description to a T.

y’all spend the rest of the day skipping (mostly just Iwa’s daughter though) around town and holding hands

so yeah, you’re dating your kindergarten student’s father now

and he’s really sweet and really hot

—-

tags: @cherryonigiri @parkersvibes @omgaspers

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turtlepated · 4 years

Note

Pate I'm drunk I want PateDew HCs pleeeeease

@pastelnacht

Oh are you now? Lol, well I will do my best to provide!

Let's see... PateDew is pretty open-ended so hows about I hit you with the half-formed vaguely self-insert WIP that’s been sitting in my Google Docs for weeks now:

----

You’d been stressed out at work lately, stressed enough that two days simply wasn’t enough time to fully decompress. So when a couple of your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work, you decided to tag along. Why not?

The Roadhouse bar was a bit more… rustic than you’d expected for a bunch of office workers like yourselves, but it seemed like the perfect place to lose yourself and unwind for an evening. It was loud, both from the rowdy patrons and the jukebox in the corner, smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and cheap booze and greasy food. Not somewhere you’d ordinarily venture on your own, but it was a nice enough distraction.

After a couple beers you had a pleasant buzz going. Somebody at the jukebox set Don’t Stop Believin’ to playing and a cheer went up. Grinning widely you swayed back and forth in time to the piano overture and belted along to the first verse about the “lonely girl livin’ in a lonely world”, emboldened by the alcohol and the giggling of your colleagues.

You spun around, startled, when another voice chimed in just as loudly behind you, picking it up with the “city boy, born and raised in south Detroit”, meeting a pair of brown eyes barely discernible under a mop of messy brown curls.

And that was how you first met Dewey Finn, both of you belting along to the Journey favorite while other patrons booed and shushed you, pelting you with peanut shells while you both just laughed.

It didn’t take long to learn pretty much all there was to know about Dewey Finn: he was easy going, funny and energetic and sweet, practically lived at the Roadhouse, and he loved rock music more than anything else. Even when sitting down he was always tapping his foot or thumping his hand against his knee, keeping rhythm with the song playing in his head.

The two of you were fast friends and the Roadhouse became a regular watering hole for you. Dewey was fun and fascinating, so passionate about whatever topic happened to be under discussion that you couldn’t help getting excited right along with him.

You bonded quickest over your overlapping tastes in music. While Dewey considered himself more of a purist (classic rock being the pinnacle of human achievement as far as he was concerned), few things seemed to thrill him more than sharing his music with you. The two of you sat across from one another in “your” booth at the Roadhouse, tipsy and giggly, having swapped phones to compare playlists. As expected, Dewey’s phone was full to bursting with AC/DC, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Van Halen, Guns n Roses, Rolling Stones.

“Oh my God,” he laughed, turning your phone around to show you the screen. “Are you serious?” You flushed, embarrassed, covering your face with one hand.

“Okay, look,” you began. “I didn’t get to have a Britney phase when I was a kid because I didn’t have any money to buy albums! And by the time I did Britney was considered cringey and I was too young to know that there’s no such thing as cringe! So I have to have my Britney phase now!”

Your rebuttal only made Dewey laugh harder, his cheeks rosy and his eyes glittering both from the mirth and the drinks. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, I’m only messin’ with you! Though I’m impressed that you had like a whole defense just ready to go!” He turned his head, glancing around conspiratorially before leaning towards you over the tabletop, crooking a finger at you invitingly. Giggling, you folded your arms and leaned in on your elbows.

“Not like Britney needs a defense,” he admitted, grinning, rapping the flat of his palm on the table between you to keep the beat as he started singing. “My loneliness is killin’ me!”

Without missing a step you chimed right in, “And I, I must confess, I still believe!” By the time you got to “Hit me, baby, one more time!” you were both almost incoherent from a fit of laughter, ignoring the vocal annoyance of the other regulars seated around you.

Looking back, you considered that to be the moment you fell in love with Dewey Finn.

If you were honest with yourself, that moment was probably when the two of you first sang along with Steve Perry, but you couldn’t help feeling a little silly and even cliched. The whole “love at first sight” schtick.

In an ideal world, you could simply pluck up your courage and come right out and tell him how you felt. In an ideal world, he would tell you he felt the same way. The two of you might even exchange a tender kiss, if the romance in movies was anything to go on.

But the world was not ideal.

He did eventually tell you about the bizarre circumstances that led to his current job, which he so clearly loved and talked about constantly. Hearing the whole surreal tale, from start to finish, was a rollercoaster of subterfuge and deceit, plus a dash of identity theft and sprinkled with heartfelt personal growth. You joked with him that he ought to sell the story to a producer, get a movie deal. Jack Black would make a very believable Dewey Finn, you said, and he snorted into his drink.

So many unexpected things had come about for him as a result of his improbable plan; not just a job but a career, one that he was passionate about, that excited him every day! Reveling in the talent of his students, their eagerness to learn and explore, seeing them progress and get better and better… It was a feeling that he’d only ever experienced before when playing a show, but now he got to feel it almost every day! In his wildest dreams, he’d never have even thought of where he was now in order to have wished for it. If the kids, his amazing, talented, face-shredding students had come as a shock, then their uptight, pencil-skirted, no-nonsense, secret rocker principal had thrown him for the biggest loop.

It wasn’t until after the two of you had been friends for awhile (and after Dewey had thrown back a couple shots of tequila on top of his two and a half pints of beer) that he told you about Rosalie Mullins beyond “she’s my boss. Sort of.”

Even Dewey was willing to concede that he took her out for drinks initially as a ploy to get her to agree to let him take his “class” to the band competition. The kiss that followed their conversation at the Roadhouse had been impulsive on his part, he hadn’t even thought about it at the time, there had been more pressing matters on his mind. In the aftermath of his unmasking; between the threats of arrest and homelessness, his adolescent band rallying his spirits and delivering a powerhouse performance; so many highs and lows in such a short expanse of time, it wasn’t until Rosalie Mullins grabbed his face afterwards and kissed him that it even dawned on him that there might be something to it.

They’d gone out after things returned to normal, but after a few months of on-again-off-again they decided they were better as friends, as colleagues. Or rather, Dewey admitted a tad bitterly after finishing a third pint and another shot of tequila, Rose had decided they weren’t a good fit romantically and didn’t want to jeopardize their working relationship.

“I really liked her, though,” he said with a sigh, slumping in the bench seat across from you and toying with the empty shot glass. “Smart, classy, beautiful.” You sat with your arms folded on the tabletop, trying not to let it show that each word struck you like a knife in the heart, wanting to be supportive in the midst of his disappointment because that’s what friends did for one another. Regardless of what you were feeling, it was clear he was still carrying a torch for the principal and when he showed you pictures he had kept on his phone you could see why.

She truly was very pretty, very put -together, as stark a contrast as she could be in her perfectly tailored blazers and skirts to you in your jeans and T-shirts. You couldn’t help but feel ridiculous and petty, jealous of a woman you didn’t know, had never even spoken to just because the man you loved was still hung up on her.

It didn’t matter anyway, because whatever your feelings may be, Dewey obviously didn’t feel the same about you, not when his heart was still set on Miss Mullins.

You put it out of your mind, willfully ignoring it because at least you could still be his friend. No matter how heartsick it made you when his laugh or his smile made your heart swell and you wanted so much to kiss him but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t do that, it would ruin everything.

As the weeks passed it got… maybe not easier to bear, but you grew used to the gnawing ache inside and you learned to ignore it. You barely even noticed it anymore. Things began to change when Dewey left you a very boisterous and excited voicemail, telling you to meet him at the Roadhouse after work because he had “huge, unbelievable, amazing news!” You had no idea what he could be talking about but whatever it was he met you at the door, practically bouncing like a puppy.

In between corralling him into a booth and placing your drink orders with the waitress, you finally got him to calm down enough to tell you what he had to say.

“Every year the country club crowd throws this big charity fundraiser for the city, and since a lot of em are Horace Green parents or alums, this year the school is hosting the charity and School of Rock is lined up to play the whole event! Isn’t that awesome?!”

You beamed at him, his elation contagious. In the year since their formation and debut, Horace Green’s official student band (led by their music coach, Dewey Finn) had garnered a fair bit of publicity with their electrifying performance at the battle of the bands competition. Despite losing the contest, they had been the unequivocal crowd favorite and the school had enjoyed some very positive press in the midst of their growing popularity.

But a gig like this would elevate the band to a whole new level, Dewey animatedly explained. You couldn’t help getting swept up in his mounting excitement, almost giddy to see him so wholeheartedly invested in the project. Naturally, you offered to be of whatever help you could to help him pull off such an important show. The band deserved it, and so did he. And if it meant you’d be seeing a whole lot more of Mr. Finn in the coming weeks, well… that would just be a bonus.

#dewey finn #dewey x reader #dewey x self insert #school of rock #post cannon #if I decide to keep going with this it's gonna get angsty lolol #but I hope this is sweet enough to scratch your itch!

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langdvnshepherd · 5 years

Text

Sinister Kid (Michael Langdon One Shot)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None! Just some good ol’ dad!Michael to warm your heart on this fine day.

A/N: A while back someone asked for some dad!Michael headcanons, but I wanted to do something a little more specific so I wrote this one-shot! I tried to mix in as many hc’s as I could into the actual writing, which is why it’s a bit longer. Soft, domestic dad!Michael is the cutest shit EVER don’t even @ me. Feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you’d like to see next!

Michael sat on the plush leather sofa, the sounds of tiny feet against the hardwood and low, concentrated mumbling filling his eardrums. He was quite entertained, for a multitude of reasons. One being his tiny son, his heir, desperately trying to sing and dance along to The Nightmare Before Christmas playing on the television before him, a film he had, unwillingly, become acutely familiar with due to his boy’s obsession with Jack Skellington. He could watch him for hours, and he had plenty of times before. His clumsy feet trying to keep up with the whimsical movements of the animated characters as they pranced about the frame, his rosy red lips moving offbeat to the song, his motor skills not yet gracing him with any rhythm whatsoever.

Michael never thought he could love someone so deeply, so unconditionally, until he saw his son for the first time. He was the epitome of purity, which was ironic given his ancestry. He was everything Michael thought he was incapable of being himself; the sweetest, most loving and caring little boy he had ever known, and he was only two years old. Having a child was something Michael initially saw as a chore, a necessary step in his duty to bring about the end times, producing a successor to take his place when he moved on to the next realm. Of course, he would love his child, he just never intended for fatherhood to affect him in the way that it had thus far. Now, the apocalypse was the furthest thing from his mind. How could he worry about rebuilding the world when the most important life was right in front of him?

Being a parent had softened Michael, made him see the delicate, intricate beauty of life. His purpose had changed, he was more concerned with being a present father to the most precious being he had laid eyes on. If you could call it anything, Michael had taken a “leave of absence” from being the Antichrist. He still kept in touch with Kineros, still had plans to follow through with his father’s demands, just at a more leisurely pace. A pace that had even further been slowed by the second reason for his amusement at the moment: his wife, who happened to be seven months pregnant with his second child.

She wasn’t in the room with Michael and their son, but he could see her, and hear her, with the powers bestowed onto him by Satan himself. She was perched in the clawfoot tub, the one he promised her when he first drew up the blueprints for the cottage-style home. Her eyes closed in concentration, taking deep breaths in her nose and out of her mouth, fingers curled around the lip of the tub in a vice grip. Anything to keep from asking for Michael’s help. She was incredibly stubborn, and always had been. They had gotten into a fight two days ago about him smothering her, not letting her do anything on her own. She insisted this pregnancy wasn’t like her first, when she spent most of her time bedridden in excruciating pain. She didn’t need Michael “up her ass every second of every day” as she had proclaimed during her outburst. The fight was petty and stupid, she’ll admit. But she hadn’t spoken to him since and had no intention of doing so until he apologized for being so overbearing.

Quite frankly, she was over it by now, wishing she could reconcile with her husband and go back to getting nightly foot rubs and rub downs with her favorite lotions, but her pride hindered her from doing so, which brought a smile to Michael’s face. He could read her thoughts, he knew she wanted things to go back to normal, that she missed him and his attentiveness, but he wanted to see how long she could keep up the silent treatment before crawling back to him. Now was the perfect time to tease her, he decided.

“Hey bud,” Michael called out to his son, who put his dramatic rendition of This is Halloween on pause to look at his father, eerily similar piercing blue eyes staring back at him.

“Let’s go see what mommy’s doing.”

“Mama!” the boy exclaimed, gripping his Zero the dog plush tighter to his chest. Michael remembered the ecstatic look on his toddler’s flushed, chubby face when his wife came home with the stuffed animal. Nothing else in the world made his heart leap like seeing his child so jovial over such a mundane object.

Michael scooped up his mini-me and carefully made his way up the stairs, watching his son’s blonde curls bounce in sync with his steps.

“I have a feeling she’s gonna be very happy to see us.”

Her back was facing away from the door, so she didn’t notice Michael and her son had entered the bathroom until she heard quiet snickers coming from the entryway. Michael was leaning on the doorframe, their son balanced expertly on his hip. Their outburst of giggles was caused by the tiny toddler’s incapacity to keep quiet. He always got so tickled, and his laughter was contagious. She turned towards the noise, first smiling at the presence of her sweet boy, then growing annoyed once her eyes met her husband.

“Having fun in there?” Michael jabbed, his son tugging on the loose strands of silky, golden hair that had fallen out of his bun. He made a habit out of tying his hair back long ago when he realized how much his son loved to pull it, yank it rather. It was clearly no use. Even at two, his son was still fascinated by his father’s long locks that he was destined to inherit.

“Loads,” she fired back, trying to steady her breathing as to not give away how exhausted she was. For the past several minutes she’d been struggling to maneuver her way out of the high-walled tub, her protruding belly being the obstacle she was unable to overcome. It would have been over and done with forever ago had she simply called for Michael to help her stand up, but she wasn’t ready to give up her grudge just yet.

“Hmm,” he started up again, determined to see how far he could push her. “Did you want me to help you out of the tub? Or are you still mad at me?” He rested his thumb on his free hand under his chin in fake thought.

“So you’ve been standing there this whole time? Watching me?” What a fucking dick, she thought to herself.

“From the couch mostly, but yes. You told me you didn’t want my help anymore, so I’m just respecting your wishes,” Michael smarted off, his iconic, shit-eating smirk making its appearance. Had she not been stuck in the tub, she might have smacked the grin clear off his face.

She turned away from him, resting her back against the side of the tub in defeat. She didn’t want to admit that she needed Michael, but times like these made her regret ever lashing out at him. He really was helpful. Throughout both pregnancies now, he’d been right by her side: holding her hair back while she hurled her guts into the toilet, using his magic to alleviate her back pain, making midnight runs to the convenience store when she woke up in the middle of the night in frantic search of ice cream, going down on her like his life depended on it when her hormones made her desperately horny. But sometimes it got to the point where she felt like she couldn’t breathe with him constantly breathing down her neck. She knew he was only trying to help. Carrying the spawn of the Antichrist was not a task that could be done alone, but she needed her space like any other human.

Michael didn’t wait for her to respond, taking her silence as a sign that if he didn’t intervene, she had every intention of staying in that tub until her fingers and toes were purple and pruney. He sauntered towards her place at the tub, his blabbering baby still attached to his hip. Holding out his free hand for her to grab, he knew he was risking getting an earful. The past two days following their fight had been spent in solitude, each of them co-parenting without actually speaking to each other. He was certain his gesture might elicit another outburst on her part, but he couldn’t walk away without at least offering to help his heavily pregnant wife.

She looked up at him in contempt, the narrowing of her eyes indicated her everpresent resentment towards Michael. With a loud huff, she wrapped her fingers around Michael’s forearm. He carefully lifted her by her elbow, a satisfied smirk smeared across his face as she leaned into his touch. Michael made sure she was standing upright before releasing her from his grip, then trailed his hand down her spine to give her bum a quick squeeze. She yelped in response, which only widened the grin plastered on Michael’s cheeks.

“You fucking asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

“Mommy, no!” the small boy in Michael’s arms exclaimed, an instant pout taking over his features. He had gotten in trouble for repeating those very words a few weeks ago and had taken it upon himself to scold both his mother and father every time he heard them since then. Michael’s eyes widened, giving his wife the oh shit, you’re in trouble look.

“Mommy’s sorry, sweet boy. I shouldn’t have said that,” she reassured her son, giving him a quick peck on his temple and running her fingers through the wild mop of strawberry blonde curls on his head. He curled further into Michael’s shoulder, practically purring at the attention he was getting from his mother whom he loved so dearly.

“On that note,” Michael began as he reached for the towel on the warming rack, tossing it in her direction. “If you need us, we’ll be downstairs watching The Nightmare Before Christmas for the...” he paused in thought, “...third time today?”

She chuckled at his words, cracking her first smile at him since their fight. She knew just as much as Michael how much their son adored that godforsaken film. It was all he talked about, even at bedtime when she desperately wished he would just close his eyes for five seconds and go to sleep without bringing up Lock, Shock, or Barrel’s conniving attempts to kidnap Santa Claus. Any other two-year-old would be terrified of such a thing, but not her kid. Not the Antichrist’s son.

“Papa?” Michael’s son perked up suddenly, snapping out of his affectionate trance to look up eagerly as his father.

“Hmm?” Michael answered, peering down lovingly at the boy he held tightly in his arms. He swore he would never get tired of hearing that tiny, high pitched little voice say his name.

“Popcorn?” he pleaded, although it sounded more like “pa-corn.” His azure-tinted eyes were wide like saucers looking up at his father.

“You want some popcorn?” his son nodded enthusiastically. “That’s your mom’s favorite snack, you know? Should we make mommy some too so she’ll come and watch your movie with us?” Michael mischievously cut his eyes at his wife who was securing the fluffy white towel he had thrown at her to her body, the fabric clinging tightly around the prominent bump of her stomach.

“Mommy! Movie!” Speaking in full sentences wasn’t on his to-do list yet, so he often spoke in short spouts.

Knowing she could never deny her boy of anything he wanted, she promised him she’d be down shortly to finish his movie with him. He was whisked away by Michael, who gave her one last taunting wink before disappearing from her view in the bathroom.

He was slowly but surely charming his way back into her good graces despite everything in her that urged her not to give in.

Michael bumped the drawer to the trashcan closed with his hip, balancing a mountainous bowl of popcorn in one hand and a sippy cup filled with apple juice in the other as he discarded the paper popcorn bag into the bin. His son squealed in delight upon seeing Michael enter the living room, his pudgy hands making grabbing motions at his afternoon snack before Michael could even place the bowl down on the coffee table.

“What do you say?” Michael quizzed. He’d been practicing manners with his son, making sure he was always appreciative of what he had.

“Peas,” the boy’s precious attempt at “please” making Michael’s heart sore.

“Good boy,” Michael replied, watching him grab a handful of popcorn and stuff it into his puffy cheeks. That boy was like a bottomless pit, Michael thought. Although Michael was known to throw back a few hearty portions of food himself, his appetite had nothing on his son’s. It had to have something to do with being the growing boy of the Antichrist, which also explained his wife’s bizarre cravings as well. He had never been able to figure out who in their right mind would willingly eat pickles and ice cream at the same time.

“Here, catch!” Michael called out to his son, plucking a single kernel from the bowl. The toddler immediately got the hint and assumed his position, it was one of his favorite games to play with his father. They played it almost every day, whether it was with cereal puffs, bite-sized bits of french toast, slices of clementines, or chocolate chips he knew he wasn’t supposed to have unless it was after dinner. Michael tossed the popcorn in the air towards his son’s open mouth, immediately bursting into laughter when it missed his lips and bounced off his forehead. Michael wasn’t sure what was more entertaining: the look of pure and utter concentration on the boy’s face as he tried to catch the popcorn in his mouth like he’d seen his dad do so many times and desperately tried to mimic, or the sound of his giggles when he inevitably missed, making the snack roll promptly off his face and onto the floor.

Just as Michael resumed the film and got comfortable on the sofa, his wife reluctantly emerged from the top of the stairs clad in one of his old, black t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. He loved seeing her like this, although he’d never say that to her face. It was part of the reason why he’d begged her for another baby in the first place. Watching her belly grow rounder each day, abandoning her own wardrobe and opting for Michael’s which eventually grew tighter as well with each passing trimester. It did something to Michael that he couldn’t exactly explain with words.

She snickered at her son as she walked past, already entranced by the television screen. Michael sat up straighter in his seat, making room for her to lay beside him as she always did when they had movie night on the couch. Instead, she plopped down on the opposite side of him and propped her feet up on the coffee table, earning an offended glare from Michael. She didn’t react to his gesture, she simply leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn and fixed her eyes on the tv, pretending to be interested in the film she’d seen what felt like one thousand times.

This fight had turned into somewhat of a game for Michael. He so desperately wanted her to crack, to see his side of the argument. He felt he was so undeniably in the right. She was carrying precious cargo, cargo that he feared would hurt her if she wasn’t too careful. He’d seen what his bloodline did to others, his mother being a prime example. Michael couldn’t fathom losing his beloved wife, so he made it his priority to ensure her safety, even if it meant she wasn’t allowed to lift a finger for nine, long months. For the past two days, he’d been annoying the shit out of her, taunting her as to get her to break her silence towards him.

“Mama! Papa! Look! Santa!” the boy screeched, making his adorable lisp echo throughout the living room. He was aggressively pointing to Tim Burton’s rendition of Santa Claus on the screen.

“I see!” the two of them responded in unison, mustering up as much enthusiasm as they possibly could.

Michael nudged his wife’s thigh with his foot, her eyes shot back at him like daggers in return. He half-snorted at her reaction, eyes moving back to watch his son twirl around on the fuzzy carpet.

They stayed like this for a while, on opposite ends of the couch; Michael’s armed crossed over his chest while his wife’s hands massaged her own baby bump, occasionally reaching over for more popcorn. Michael could sense her faltering reluctance even more now, how she wanted nothing more than to take back the harsh words she hurled at him and curl up like a kitten into his warm torso. Her stubbornness prevailed, however, only thickening the tension in the room. If it weren’t for their son’s erratic behavior, they probably would have kept up their act for yet another day.

A piercing scream shook both of them out of their trances. Before Michael could blink, his son shot into his arms, covering his eyes with his hands and burying his face into Michael’s shoulder.

“Bubby, what’s the matter?” Michael asked, running his cool, ring clad fingers through the boy’s untamed curls.

He mumbled something about the Boogie Man from the film coming to get him, although it was hard for Michael to comprehend due to the combination of his tiny, baby voice and the muffled cries he let out into his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me,” Michael demanded in a soft, yet stern tone. The emotionally unstable boy clutching his now-wet-with-tears shirt sleeve lifted his head, lips pouted and tears bubbling over his ocean blue eyes.

“It’s just a movie. The Boogie Man’s not real, he can’t hurt you. Besides, even if he was, Daddy wouldn’t even let him get close to you. He’d be more scared of me than you are of him. I promise,” he spoke lovingly, rubbing away his son’s tears with his thumb.

“’kay,” the boy sniffled, tired now. He hoisted himself up fully on the sofa, straddling Michael’s lap as to signify he was ready for naptime.

“Mommy, lay with me,” their son called out, wanting the comfort of both his mother and father at once.

All disdain for her husband evaporated into thin air at that moment as she slid over on the couch to be closer to her son. Michael enveloped her in his arms, pulling the two of them as close to his chest as he could manage. She’d completely forgotten about the silent war between the two of them. Their son was her greatest weakness, she’d do anything to make him happy.

The three of them sat in quietude, the ending credits of the film having long been over and the screen gone black. Michael rubbed circles on his wife’s back while she stroked their son’s side, lulling him peacefully to sleep.

“You’re a good dad, you know?” she broke the silence both of that moment and of the last two days.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he pulled away to glance fully at his wife’s bare face, wiggling his eyebrows at her when she caught his stare.

“I suppose,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes at his haughtiness. “I just feel so trapped sometimes. You never let me do anything, I need breathing room every once in a while.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just...I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you because of me, so I feel like I have to make sure nothing could possibly go wrong."

“I get that, and I appreciate the sentiment. But I’m perfectly capable of doing things for myself. And I would like to be able to get out of bed and make my own cup of coffee without being carried down the stairs like a child.”

They both laughed in hushed tones, quiet as to not wake the sleeping toddler in their arms.

“I guess I have been a bit too overbearing,” Michael retorted.

“You guess?” she was laughing even harder now.

“I love you. Both of you. More than anything,” he brought her head closer to his, kissing her hair that was still a little damp from her bath.

“And I love the both of you just the same,” she answered, pressing a gentle kiss to the protrusion of Michael’s collar bone and then another on her son’s rotund cheek.

“What do you say I put little bug in his bed so I can prove to you just how much I love you?” he was kissing down her neck now, purposely making loud, smacking noises with his lips.

She pried his mouth away from her throat, bracing her arm on Michael’s knee before getting up from the couch

“Let me take him,” she insisted.

Michael’s arms tightened around his son as if he was preparing to carry him to bed himself. “Are you sure you can-”

“Do you not remember the talk we just had? I can do it. Give me the boy,” she demanded, her arms outstretched.

Michael removed his grip from the boy and threw his arms up in surrender, a toothy grin on his lips.

He couldn’t wait for his daughter to arrive in just a few short weeks, certain that he’d be in deep shit if she was even half as stubborn as her mother.

tagging:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @venusxxlangdon @aveiangdon (hehe) @belusima @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonsdemon

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon #ahs #duncan shepherd x reader #jim mason x reader #my writing #mine #this took me.....way too long

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crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Of Love and a Bullet

Title: Of Love and a Bullet

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: You wanted to surprise your fiancee Nikki while he was shooting the video for Looks That Kill, but you were the one to get a surprise and not too happy about it.

A/N: This happens after the events of the Fight Gone Wrong HC, where the reader gets shot protecting Nikki.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Infidelity, Some blood, Smut

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After you got out of the hospital from the gunshot wound to your shoulder, you couldn't get Nikki to leave you alone for a minute. It was like he never wanted you out of arms reach. He didn't you knew that, since the night the fight broke out in the apartment during one of their parties and some asshole pulled a gun on Nikki, but you took the bullet for him. You didn't need to think-you took your place in between your man and the gun. It hurt like a bitch and you needed surgery to stop the bleeding and get stabilized, which went off without a hitch. You told them to keep the bullet in, the wound looking worse than it actually was. It was perfectly lodged in the bone doing no other harm to you. You wanted it to be a reminder of your love for your then boyfriend, now fiancee.

As soon as you got the all clear from a doctor that you were able to resume normal activity with no restrictions, Nikki had gently pulled you into your room with him and planted sweet, loving kisses on your neck, stopping only a moment at your collarbone where the bullet was still stuck inside the bone. A brief look of shame and despair came across his face for only the quickest of moments before he kissed that spot too, giving it more attention than any other place. "Jesus, Nikki we just walked in the door!" you laughed, him looking into your eyes with an unfamiliar seriousness.

"I almost lost you that day" he whispered in a tone only a lover could accomplish "I'm not gonna let anything like that happen to you ever again..." he slowly sank down to his knees, taking your pants and panties with him. A flush of desire washed over you as he helped you out of your clothes-there was still a soreness when doing some things like extending the affected arm above a certain level.

He didn't mind helping you dress and undress at all, not that you were complaining. It usually lead to gentle loving sex that you enjoyed with Nikki- be it in the bed, the shower, the laundry room of the apartment complex or anywhere else you two had fucked. It was always best for you when you went slow, every move meticulously and tenderly calculated. Sure every now and again you two just had a rough quickie wherever you were and you enjoyed that too, but that kind of sex felt like a means to an end in your eyes.

After the fight, he was so much more attentive to your needs. Though most of the time you reminded him that you were more than capable of handling yourself, he insisted on helping you with the most mundane things. He even helped you clean the apartment, to which the other guys relentlessly teased him about.

Back in the here and now, Nikki currently had you against the wall with his head in between your thighs. you had one leg over his shoulder, letting out small noises of ecstasy as he licked your folds. "Keep making those adorable sounds, baby" he moaned into your glistening cunt "they only make me all the more horny" you could see his cock hardening in his too tight leather pants, the outline of it making you wetter.

"Take out that fucking dick and stroke yourself baby" you said "I don't want to be the only one getting pleasured. He pulled back to undo his fly and whip it out, then using one hand to jerk himself off and the other holding your leg in place as he continued to eat you out.

"Oh fuck baby, you taste so good" he used the flat surface of his tongue to lick you vertically, switching his tongue movements to zig zag and then using the very tip, began to circle the clit. You loved this, grabbing a handful of his hair and pushing his head closer to your core. You were at your limit when he pulled away and stood up.

"What?" you panted, more than a little annoyed that he didn't let you finish. Without a word, he took off his pants and threw them on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread eagle as his penis was so hard it was against his belly. You knew what he wanted and were more than happy to oblige. You didn't want to cum just yet anyway and you used this opportunity to calm down.

You knew from experience what he liked, so you went to work. You first teased the slit with your tongue, then licked up and down the shaft while cupping his balls. He let out a few low, deep throated growls, then a soft gasp as you took him into your mouth. "Shit" he let his head fall back as you started bobbing your head on him. His fingers became tangled in your hair, his moans getting louder. He was getting close, he felt it and he stopped you.

"You okay, Nikki?" you asked, catching your breath. You were concerned now, he NEVER stopped you when you were blowing him.

"Yeah" he sighed deeply "I just don't want to cum yet, and I was about to..." he stood you both up and began gently kissing your lips. His hands snaked up your shirt and brushed his thumbs against your nipples. "They're so hard already..." he commented, helping you take off your shirt to expose your black lacy bra. He trailed kisses down to your cleavage and undid the front clasp with his teeth.

"There's my dirty fucker I fell in love with!" you laughed, him hoisting you up and laying you on the bed. He was kneeling over top of you, he tore his shirt off so the both of you were naked before each other.

"Damn right, Y/N" he chuckled before taking a more authoritative tone "Get on your hands and knees, woman" this was a turn on for you, so you did as you were told. He quickly reached into his pillowcase (where he kept his condoms) and rolled one on himself. With a single hard thrust he was inside you, you let out a squeak but quickly adjusted to his length and girth. "You ready?" he asked.

You looked back at him with those bedroom eyes and said "Please baby..." in a whiny tone. He started out a slow steady rhythm, your walls gently squeezing him and the wetness allowing for easy movement.

"Oh God you feel so good" he complimented, giving your ass a squeeze "like this pussy was made especially for me..." he gradually quickened his pace, taking note of any discomfort from you.

"That's cause it was" you answered, you having to hold onto the head board for dear life as his thrusts became rougher and quicker. You soon couldn't form coherent words anymore, mainly a string of swears and praising the father, son and holy ghost.

When the both of you were about to release, he pulled your body to his. "Cum with me, Y/N" you didn't have time to answer, his lips and tongue were occupying yours. One hand was rubbing your clit while the other tightly gripped your tit, pinching the nipple. You let each other's moans get caught in your mouths and finally that high you'd been chasing crashed into you, drowning you in the most excellent of ways.

You two stayed in that position for a minute or two, just catching your breath and enjoying the other's company. You turned your head to meet his, and kissed him sweetly. Afterward, you rested your forehead against his and said softly to him "I love you, Nikki" he caressed your cheek before his reply.

"I love you too, Y/N" you felt him pull out and take off the filled condom, tossing it out the window.

"That's just nasty" you wrinkled your face in disgust "but I still love you anyway" you opened your arms to him for post sex cuddles. You were sweaty and smelly from your romp, but that didn't matter. You were with the man you loved, and who loved you back.

He chuckled and spooned with you, him being the big spoon. "Wanna get married?" he asked out of the blue.

You turned to him and looked in his eyes "Are you asking a rhetorical question or are you asking me to marry you?"

"I'm proposing to you, goofball" he laughed, then grew serious "Do you wanna marry me?"

"Yes, Sixx" you answered "I'll marry you" he grinned bigger than ever and planted gentle kisses on your face.

"I can't get you a ring just yet" he said sheepishly "but once Motley Crue makes it, I'll get you the biggest ring money can buy" you took his face in both your hand so you could see eye to eye with him.

"I don't care about a silly ring" you told him truthfully "Just so long as I have your love, it's all I ever need" you would have been happy just getting matching tattoos on your ring finger with him as a sign of your feelings for him.

"You got it, babe" he chuckled into a final kiss before nodding off to sleep.

That was three years ago. Motley had made it big and they were getting all these events like in stores, photo shoots, interviews for magazines and other things. You didn't mind at first, but when you started seeing less and less of him it got on your nerves. They soon started touring with Ozzy, and you'd visit whenever you could-you did have a life too. Cleaning your and Nikki's house all day wasn't very appealing.

They were shooting for the Looks That Kill video when you decided to visit your fiancee at the studio. You had made a small picnic lunch for the two of you with a bottle of Jack Daniels. You had met Doc in the green room and exchanged pleasantries. He then showed you to Nikki's dressing room, but judging from the sounds coming from inside, you could tell he was already in another lady's company.

You felt sick to your stomach and excused yourself to the bathroom. As you were walking away, you heard the door open and Doc say "Tommy wants to introduce you to his parents. I see you already met his girlfriend..." you vomited into the toilet and began to softly cry to yourself.

You went back home and packed your things. You put them by the door and ordered a taxi for fifteen minutes after Nikki said he'd be home. You waited, but he never showed up, called or anything. You couldn't do this anymore. You called Doc to ask where Nikki was and asked the driver to take you there and wait for you to come out.

Of course he was in a titty bar with his band. Where else would he be? You took a deep breath, the switchblade you always carried with you tucked into your pocket. You knew how to hold your own in a fight-that's what attracted Nikki to you in the first place. When you saw him motor boating a topless dancer, you felt the beginning of your rage boil up.

You walked up to the table and threw the keys to the house on it. They all jumped at the sound, Nikki more annoyed than anything else "Y/N, what the fuck?!"

"Just giving back the keys to your house. I'm leaving you" you turned to walk away when you felt him roughly grab your arm.

"The hell you are!" he spat at you. You could smell the JD on his breath and you just knew he was on some drug. "Go back to the house and wait for me there!"

You were not about to let him talk to you like that. You had never taken that shit from anyone else, so why on earth would you take it from him? "No, Nikki" you ripped your arm from him, anger taking over as it often did in situations like this. The music and dancing had stopped to stare at the spectacle unfolding before them. Nikki was getting embarrassed, you could see it and you didn't care "I am NOT about to wait for you while you're out here fucking Tommy's girlfriend!"

"What?!" Tommy looked at Nikki "Did you fuck my fiancee, dude?!"

"Oh yeah Tommy" you answered for him, then right after he gave your sweet mother a hug while smelling like sex and booze!"

With three forces of nature brewing into a mega storm, Vince and Mick had the good sense to take refuge in the bathroom. They knew better than to get in between a fight like this. Nikki stared at you in disbelief, then said "What about you?! I've heard that you were out and fucking anyone who asked!"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Your pupils had taken over your eyes, and in that moment even Nikki in his inebriated state knew he stepped too far. "You're really questioning MY loyalty? Honestly?" your voice became really low and dangerous. You reached into your pocket and took out the blade.

"Babe, just calm down and we can-" Nikki started but you slashed his cheek with just the tip of the blade. Then you did the same to the other for good measure. Everyone in the room was too scared to move, waiting to see what you were going to do.

"MY loyalty" you poked the blade into your collarbone and wiggled it around a little. The onlookers watched in total horror as you grunted and a small, silver bullet popped into your hand. "My loyalty" you said again "is in that fuckin' bullet I took for you. Not every basic bitch is willing to do that for anyone, Nikki. Goodbye" you turned your back to him and started walking away.

In a last, pathetic attempt to get the last word Nikki said "I thought you loved me, Y/N!"

You wanted to say so many things to that statement, but the one that came out was the most truthful "I did. But I love myself even more than that to let you treat me like shit. Grow the fuck up, Sixx and maybe you'll be someone worth a woman's time" you walked back to the waiting cab and drove off to be anywhere but here.

Tommy looked at Nikki for a long time before saying "You fucking asshole! Y/N is a good woman! She never woulda hurt you the way you did her! Hell, if any woman took a literal bullet for me, I would have married her the moment she got out of surgery!"

Nikki was stone cold silent, knowing he'd completely fucked up most possibly one of the best things in his life. "You know what?" Tommy said "Fuck you, Nikki. You never deserved her" he left go back to his own house to sober up.

Vince and Mick had left out the kitchen door, not wanting to get caught up in the ruckus. Nikki just stayed at the titty bar, nursing his Jack Daniels and sulking. "I'm such an idiot..." he played with the bloodied bullet in his fingers, just now realizing what he'd lost. "God Fucking Damn It, Nikki..."

#submitted #submission #motley crue #mötley crüe #nikki sixx #tommy lee #mick mars #vince neil #the dirt #the dirt movie #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue fanfiction #mötley crüe fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfiction

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readyourimgaines · 5 years

Text

Enter: Griffin

Another oneshot from my Autistic!Freddie files. Still inspired by @disabled-queen-hc and once again beta read by Snafu and @iamnotbrianmay. -Freddie

Freddie always got restless when he was in the recording studio for too long. He didn’t like being in the same room for more than hour, so when they were bordering on three, the young man was all squeaks and head shakes.

John and Roger were too engaged in their debate to notice Freddie’s frantically bouncing leg or the pulsing clenching of the fist in his hair as he tried to ground himself.

Brian took the Red Special from his shoulder and placed it in the stand before walking to the piano bench where Freddie was sitting. Brian held out his hand and Freddie took it out a second thought, allowing himself to be led from the recording booth and into the main room.

“I have something for you,” Brian smiled as he walked to his backpack.

“Why?” Freddie wondered.

“Because you’ve been in the band for six months now. That deserves a celebration,” Brian smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“Mostly.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Brian requested. Freddie squeaked lightly but did as he was asked. Once Brian knew that his eyes were closed, he very gently placed the soft item in Freddie’s awaiting palms. “Open your eyes Freddie.”

Freddie did so and squealed when he saw the stuffed badger toy. He bent his fingers slightly, feeling the soft fake fur between his fingers. When choosing the toy, Brian made sure it was the softest one that he could find.

“What do you think?”

“Who is it?” Freddie looked up at Brian, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second. Brian smiled. Kash had told him that with Freddie’s Autism stuffed animals weren’t toys- they were beings with proper names.

“This is Griffin. I got her for you.” Brian explained in short. “I noticed that you have a friend you only carry around at home, so I thought I should get you one you can have around with you not have to worry about them getting hurt.”

Freddie looked at Brian and it was the first time Brian had seen a real emotion other than pure fear and anxiety or happiness on Freddie’s face. He looked shocked, and it worried Brian a little. “You okay?”

“You...you don’t think—?” Freddie stopped and squeaked, shaking his head and Brian understood.

“I don’t think it’s childish,” Brian assured him. “I’ve got—” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic guitar pick. “I’ve got this. You know I only play with a coin, but I carry this around so I’ve got something to fiddle with when I get bored. See? It’s really smooth.” Brian rubbed his thumb over the surface and held it out to Freddie for him to feel. “Roger taps rhythm with a pencil when he’s nervous. John cracks his fingers. There’s nothing wrong with needing something, or someone, to play with.” Freddie squealed again and Brian chuckled.

Kash plopped down onto the couch next to Freddie who was sitting with Brian and watching some sitcom they’d found.

“Who’s this?” She asked Freddie, motioning towards the stuffed badger that was seated in Freddie’s lap as he gently squeezed it, weakened his hold, then squeezed it again.

“Griffin.” Freddie held up the toy for Kash to see better before lowering her back into his lap. “Brian got her for me.” He went back to slowly squeezing.

Kash smiled. “Griffin the Badger. I like that.” She giggled again when Freddie squealed.

“You aren’t bringing that thing with you, are you?” Boma asked Freddie. He was getting ready to go to Brian’s to a watch a movie with him, John, and Roger. Brian was walking to his house to pick him up on his way home from the store.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Freddie placed his notebook and sketchbook in his messenger bag before delicately placing Griffin on top of everything making sure that her nose was poking out a little before zipping it shut as much as he could without her fur getting caught in it.

“Because you’re 17, Farroukh. It’s beyond time you stop behaving like a child and start acting your age. You need to stop this silly play and behave like normal—”

“Kash, why don’t you wait outside with Freddie for Brian,” Jer interrupted her husband, gently guiding Freddie towards the door. Freddie’s eyes were scared and panicked though the rest of his face remained emotionless.

Kash took Freddie’s hand in her own and went outside with him. The second the door closed behind them, the two started yelling at each other in Parsi. Freddie looked over his shoulder as Kash tugged his across the yard so they could sit on the bench right before the curb.

“D-Did I do something?” Freddie whispered. “I don’t—”

“You didn’t do anything,” Kash promised, pulling Freddie against her and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re okay, Freddie.”

Kash reached over and took his bag, opening it and taking Griffin out before closing the bag again. She gently wrapped Freddie’s hands around the toy. Freddie leaned at the waist and nuzzled his nose against it’s soft underbelly before turning his head and using it as a pillow. Kash started rubbing his back and he closed his eyes.

Footsteps came closer and Kash looked up though Freddie didn’t. “Hey, Brian.” Kash greeted. Freddie turned his head see he could see his approaching friend.

“Everything okay?” Brian cocked his head to the side. Freddie squeaked and pressed his face back against Griffin’s belly.

“Our parents are fighting again.” Kash stated. Just as she said that, Boma’s voice reached their ears and Freddie flinched.

“You’re both coming over. C’mon,” Brian said. “Ready to go, Freddie?”

Kash stood and held out to Freddie who hesitantly took it. He kept Griffin held tightly to his chest as they walked. Kash could tell by his occasional sniffling that he was trying not to cry, still feeling off about the fight. She squeezed his hand tighter and he lowered his head, watching his feet move under him.

“Yeas!” Roger cheered as the three entered the house. “We have both Bulsaras. John! Start the popcorn!” A couple of beeping sounds came from the kitchen before John emerged.

“Hello.”

“Hey, John,” Kash greeted. Freddie silently waved, his arm still tightly around Griffin. He shifted unsteadily and squeezed Griffin with both arms. He walked out of the room and sat on the couch in the next room over.

“Freddie alright?” John asked in a hushed tone.

“Boma’s being an ass.” Kash said simply and they all understood.

The movie has been on for 30 minutes. Freddie had been fidgeting the whole time even with Kash holding his hand. Kash had gotten up and went to the kitchen to make them more popcorn and Freddie had bent at the waist, his face pressed into the belly of the stuffed badger just as the tears started falling from him eyes.

Brian kept an eye on Freddie the whole time Kash was gone. With Kash in the room, he knew she had her older brother handled. So the second Freddie pressed his face against Griffin’s belly he knew something was up. The taller boy stood and pull Freddie to stand up, tugging him towards his own room.

“Come here, Freddie.” Brian pulled Freddie to sit in his lap once he was seated on the bed and Brian tightly wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Freddie didn’t respond and kept on crying. With one hand, Brian grabbed the spare blanket from the foot of his bed and proceeded to wrap it around Freddie as best he could before pulling the boy to his chest again. Being wrapped in the blanket and in Brian’s arms seemed to help him calm down some as his tears slowed down. “You’re okay.”

“I did something wrong.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Freddie.”

“He was loud. Kash said he gets loud when he’s mad.” Freddie’s voice was a whisper more than anything else. “He only gets loud when someone does something bad… He doesn’t like Griffin.” Freddie squeezed the toy tighter.

Brian leaned down slightly and kissed Freddie’s hairline. “Maybe Griffin doesn’t like him either.” Freddie squealed quietly and Brian smiled to himself. “What do you think, Fred?”

“She doesn’t. He’s too mean.” Freddie decided.

“That sounds like Griffin,” Brian agreed with a nod. He stayed to gently run a hand through Freddie’s hair and he tilted his head into the touch. Brian pressed his forehead softly to Freddies and the older closed his eyes, relaxing more. “Griffin and Marcy make you happy, right?”

“Soft.”

“Then keep one of them, if not both, with you when you can or want to. Your father should want you to be happy. I want you to be happy. That’s why I got you Griffin.” Freddie opened his eyes and adjusted how he was positioned slightly so he could nuzzle his nose against Brian’s. Brian had learned from seeing Kash calm Freddie down enough times that this meant he was tired. He only nuzzled someone’s nose like this after an attack that drained him.

Brian moved to lay Freddie on the bed but paused when he squeaked in protest. “Trust me, I have an idea,” Brian chuckled.

He laid Freddie down and laid down next to him, wrapping his arm tightly around him. Freddie closed his eyes again and let himself focus on the pressure of Brian’s arm and the softness of Griffin. It didn’t take long for Freddie drift to sleep, and Brian fell asleep a few minutes after him.

Kash had been antsy with Freddie and Brian having been gone for so long— it had been at least 45 minutes. John had convinced her to wait, saying that if Brian couldn’t calm Freddie down that he would have called for her. An hour rolled around and Kash decided it was too much. She went to Brian’s room and peaked in.

She smiled when she was met with the site of Brian holding Freddie against him, who was wrapped rather snuggly like a burrito. The two were laying face to face, their noses almost touching. Stepping a little closer, Kash took a picture of them on her phone and wasted no time setting the picture as her lockscreen.

#snafu and freddie's imagine shoppe #read your imagines #freddie mercury imagines #autistic!Freddie #kash bulsara #queen band

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sxftrxchxe · 5 years

Text

harmony-rt

AN-this is actually the backstory i have in mind like 90 percent of the time sksksks. please enjoy <3

SONG: none

WARNINGS: hints of past abuse. pregnancy?

FANDOM: it 2017

WORDS: 3420

SUMMARY: its just a pregnancy fluff fic

yn-your name

ln-last name

ec-eye color

hc-hair color

hl-hair length

AGED UP TO AROUND TWENTY TWO

The young girl skipped down the road happily avoiding the cracks and humming while her parents walked behind, heads on shoulder and hand in hand. They were always like that, a perfect example of a stereotypical family that only exists in movies. But for yn ln that was her reality since she was born.

"So you aren't nervous? Like even in the slightest?" She shook her head and stumbled as she almost stood on a particularly small crack, her small pastel pink bag nearly falling off.

"Nope you and Daddy said I was going to the the princess of the playground. Isn't that why I'm wearing this ugly ice cream dress? Cos princesses wear horrible stuff?" Her mother laughed and smiled lovingly at her daughter. yn's small pink cat bag hit her back with every hop and skip creating a rhythm she was determined to keep. Her dad gasped and she looked up to see the cream and blue building of Derry's kindergarten in front of her.

Other kids were hugging their parents and running through the blue gate and happily greeting friends. One small boy clung to his mothers and cried begging her to stay. yn giggled at how stupid he was being as her mom fixed her hair and muttered something under her breath. After a slightly aggressive tug and a sigh, she turned around to smile at her favourite people in the world.

"Good luck Sweetie. We love you okay?" Her mom leaned down and pulled her in for a hug. She hugged her back and giggled as her dad pulled a face from behind.

"And at twelve me and your father will be waiting here at the gate okay?" She nodded and pulled away to hug her dad's leg. He laughed and pat her back as his eyes wandered to someone driving by in a car. Another sob from behind her caused her to turn back around and skip into the playground leaving her parents to walk back home with their arms around each other's shoulders and tears falling down their faces.

The boy who had previously clung to his mams leg was now sitting just inside the gate with a pout on his face and tears in his eyes. yn gave him a small wave before her focus turned to three girls playing hopscotch while one sat by and watched. She looked a bit bored and caught yn watching her. She waved at her happily and yn almost skipped over to play until a happy scream came from the other side of the playground. Boys were chasing after girls while they screamed and laughed. Others were clinging to a climbing frame and pulling faces at each other as kids slid up and down a slide nearby. yn nearly exploded with excitement as she saw two empty swings near to the slide for her to sit on and make friends. She gave the bored ginger a last wave before turning to run to the other side.

Unfortunately, she turned right into someone else and fell to the ground landing on her knee and crying out in pain. The boy by the gate gasped loudly and gagged as he noticed the small trickle of blood coming out of her knee. Her eyes began to fill with tears before someone hand was stuck in her view and she looked up.

"I'm sorry I thought I was late cos I can't tell time and I guess I didn't see you oops. Are you okay? Your leg is red and disgusting now." The voice came from the person who she ran into which turned out to be a scrawny young boy with big brown eyes and dark messy hair. He was wearing an oversized blue button up lazily thrown over a cream t shirt, the same color as yn's shoes. She took his hand and he pulled her up almost dropping her to the floor again when she sneezed.

"Sorry, I'm allergic to grass. My mom calls it hay fever but I don't. And I guess a little blood never hurt anyone." yn flashed the boy a toothy grin which he returned. The boy at the gate gagged again and yn heard the girls from hopscotch teasing him before the girl who was watching them told them to be quiet.

"What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm yn ln. What's yours?" He shook her hand he was already holding which confused yn so much she stopped smiling.

"I'm Richie. Richie Tozier." She smiled again and let go of his hand and wiped her own on her ice cream patterned dress just in case he had the cooties her dad told her about.

"Chee Toaster?" He laughed and shook his head causing his curls to bounce. She shook her head back and crossed her arms. He looked pleasantly surprised when she replied in her cute childish voice.

"No, I'm calling you Chee. Now, do you want to swing on the swings?" He nodded and the slightly aggressive way they met was forgotten as they linked arms and ran across the playground. The swing set was in the shade behind an oak tree beside the slide but no one was on the slide anymore. Still, they kept running until they landed by the swing set and quickly hopped on kicking their legs to go higher and higher. They easily making friends like most five-year-olds do.

SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER

yn Tozier found out she was pregnant at twenty two. Married, happy and long forgotten were the horrors of her past meaning she was overjoyed.

In fact her only problem was how to tell her husband in the most flamboyant way. After all the Toziers weren't known to do things normally. Richie proposed on their graduation day in front of the whole school whilst everyone sobbed after all.

So on March 7th 1998, her husbands twenty second birthday, she decided to execute her plan that was boiling in her head for months.

First she called up her long time best friend and practically sister Beverly Marsh and told her the news. After much squealing between the two, yn explained her plan and Beverly agreed saying they had to do it.

Three squealed phone calls and two where she sobbed with Bill and Eddie the plan was ready. All she had to do now was wait. Which in itself was hard since her bump was beginning to show. Richie asked why she was no longer wearing her favorite skirts or t shirts in favor for her oversized sweaters and tracksuit bottoms receiving panicked and random responses most of the time.

"Hey nn? Why aren't you wearing your skirts anymore? It's literally thirty two degrees out?"

"I'm allergic to the material."

"You're allergic...to the material?"

"Yup. But only for a few months ha ha oops okay bye I have to go to work."

Richie was getting suspicious. She was dodging many question instead giving him food and taking more private calls than any kindergarten teacher should ever take. One time he found her crying on the floor surrounded by tissues saying something like "am I just like her?" When Richie asked who she had quickly stood up and wiped her eyes saying she had to go to work even though it was eleven pm at night. yn was never the best at lying. So on the night before his birthday he sat her down on the couch and asked the question burning at the back of his head for weeks.

"Are you cheating on me?" When yn's eyes widened and she didn't answer instead staring back with saucer eyes and a mouth wide open Richie presumed his assumptions were correct. He sighed and stood up running his hands through his forever messy hair. Lori started to stutter trying to think of an excuse but none came to mind.

"You know what? It's fine, I'm fine. I knew this would happen since you're so much better than me anyway I just thought seventeen years would have meant something you know?"

"Rich it's no-"

"No! No! It's fine just let me finish I mean kindergarten wow has it actually been seventeen years? How haven't you changed?"

"Chee look at m-"

"No yn you look at m-"

"I'm Pregnant!" yn yelled standing up off their small couch and clamping her hand over her mouth like she just said the worst thing ever. Richie stopped and looked at the girl who had tried to wear one of her old skirts and t shirts to try and throw him off. If he squinted in the light he could just about make about the small bump growing on her stomach.

yn felt her eyes begin to tear up at Richie's shocked expression. Maybe she was wrong maybe he didn't want kids and just wanted the Hollywood life he was working on. Maybe he would leave her alone with their child to bring them up like her own mom. Maybe she was right about her assumptions that she was just like her.

However after twenty seconds of silence Richie scooped the girl up bridal style and spun her around the room screaming. yn began to giggle and cling on to his T-shirt so she wouldn't fall. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she did so glad her husband wasn't actually kissed and more just shocked.

He eventually put her down after a cute peck on the lips you usually wouldn't see from Richie who was ever the passionate. Once yn had two feet planted firmly to the ground he dashed to ring his closest friend Stan and tell him the news. yn didn't bother telling him she already told everyone instead happy she could take the skirt uncomfortable rubbing against her growing stomach that contained a child. Her child. Their child.

Seven Months Later

Beverly wiped the sweat off her brow with a wet towel her boyfriend Ben had brought along. Ben was tapping the uncomfortable hospital waiting room seats and glancing at the hall for the nurse every so often. Eddie sat on her other side muttering about the dangers of pregnancy whilst also sneaking hopeful glances down the bleached corridor. Bill was across from him leaning forward with his hands over his mouth and leg bouncing. If anyone he had been most excited and Beverly hoped they would be just as excited once the baby came. Stan was rubbing Bills back and checking his watch, having to leave in two hours. yn had already been in labor for six hours so he had a pretty good chance but there was still that twinge of worry telling him he'd miss everything. Mike was on Bills left staring straightforward and breathing heavily. No one had spoken a word in a half an hour, tired and impatient.

Suddenly there was a yell of excitement from down the hallways, causing them all to sit up. Richie busted out the room yn was in with a nurse yelling at him saying he had to wait a minute before he said anything. Beverly stood up, now aware of her eye filling with tears as he ran towards their group making other patients jolt awake.

"It's a girl! I gave birth to a girl! That was some work lemme tell you, my hand is so sore!" No one bothered to correct Richie instead yelling and pulling each other into celebratory hugs. He looked a mix of exhausted and the happiest Beverly had ever seen him as he threw his arms around a sobbing Bill.

"What's her name?" Eddie asked once the group calmed down just enough for them to hear each other clearly. Richie's eyes widened and he ran back to the room where the nurse was still yelling. Beverly would have face palmed at the fact he forgot to name his own daughter if it wasn't for the fact he had his own daughter. She was an aunt! Sort of not really but still!!!

Ben pulled her in for a hug and she was made aware of the many tears on both her boyfriends and best friends faces. She wiped at her own before smiling at her best friends and pushing her copper curls back. They pulled each other into a group hug until there was another whoop from down the hall that caused them all to pull apart and grip on each other's shoulders.

"Harmony-Rose middle name Georgia! And last name motherfucking Tozier! Get your asses down here!"

"Sir no we can't allow that right now-"

"Come On!"

"Sir you're wife needs rest-"

"Bring The Bitches Down! They Need To Meet The Newest Loser!"

The nurse gave an exasperated sigh before mumbling an okay. The door opened slowly as if saying they could come in. After more excited yells and tears that received both looks of admiration and eye rolls from the other patients they ran down the hall, Stan nearly running into a tray of needles and screaming in agony instead of pride.

Bill got in first before Beverly squeezed past Eddie. She nearly cried again once she saw her best friend sitting up in the hospital bed her hair messed up and eyes tired holding a small bundle of blankets. Richie was sitting in a chair beside her leaning onto the bed so he could both see his daughter and hold his wife's hand.

yn smiled tiredly at the six surrounding her bed before turning the bundle towards them so they could see their new shared child. The little girl blinked back at them with big ec eyes like her mom and slight black hair like her dad. Beverly felt Ben and Bill both squeeze her hand only one letting out a small sob as Harmony Rose was handed towards him.

"Here Billy your new niece and goddaughter. I hope you like her middle name it's for the both of us." Bill nodded and took the baby in his arms once the nurse showed him how to. He sat on the bed and waved down at his goddaughter with wet eyes slightly shaking as yn apologized to the other five boys about him being godfather. Richie said he considered them all top daddies before receiving a tired slap from his wife.

Beverly had handed the baby next learning she was the godmother and aunt of the now sleeping baby in her arms. yn rubbed her back as she rocked her slightly promising she would be the coolest aunt ever.

Ben was next explaining how he already bought tons of clothes for both gender and had them in the trunk of his car telling Beverly to remind them to get them before they left.

Then it was Eddie who happily took the girl and rocked her. He decided she was both the cleanest and dirtiest thing he ever held before getting a snicker from both mother and father and complaints for calling her thing from the others.

Mike begged to be next and sat down beside yn, talking to the other girl who's eyes were now opening again. He told her how he would have her both the most polite and ripped girl in her kindergarten receiving a quiet whoop from the group afraid to do their usual loud chanting in case she cried.

Stan was last and he cried again once the girl wrapped her hand around his finger and cooed which made the whole group gasp never having heard such an innocent noise before. Once he had wiped his eyes and apologized to Harmony Rose for the bad manners he went to hand her back to yn only to find both her and Richie asleep. Hands intertwined of course. They usually were. They both looked completely exhausted and so happy no one wanted to wake them up.

So instead with permission from the nurse Ben lay the girl in the cot provided by the hospital and Eddie rocked her to sleep saying he was good at that. Apparently he was because after only three minutes of rocking and whispered hushes Harmony-Rose was out cold.

The six remaining awake losers sat on the floor legs crossed and smiles on their faces. Heads were leaning in heads and hands were on hands. Beverly and Ben even had their linked crossed a slight promise to have their own kids when they were ready whenever that was. The nurse came back in to send them all out but took pity on the happy kids

"You know she's going to be moved to a room shared with three other new mothers tomorrow. I don't know how all seven of you will fit in at the same time." She spoke in a hushed voice taking blankets from the floor to send to the washing room. No one moved and Beverly spoke.

"Seven? Nah there's eight of us." She smiled at the yn who looked ten years older in front of her. Still she had the same smile on her face that she always had and her gown was covered in stickers showing Beverly she had matured, not changed. Richie even looked older, bags under his eyes that usually looked so young. Her eyes slid over to the cot containing her new goddaughter and she smiled wider. "Nine. There's nine of us."

"Nine. You all seem so close so it will be hard to split up to see yn and Harmony-Rose." Beverly finally noticed her friends all sleeping around her the only one mildly awake being Mike who was also blinking asleep. She shook her head before leaning onto Eddie muttering slightly in his sleep beside her.

"We'll figure something out. Always do."

5 years later....

yn held onto her daughters hand as she skipped down the road between her two parents humming. She had a small galaxy bag on her back that hit off her back with every jump reminding yn of herself. Unlike her however thick curls held back with only a small purple clip bounced around her face and tickled her nose. In fact aside from her piercing ec eyes and thumb biting the girl was one hundred percent Richies. From her hair to loud personality tendency to make a mess and annoy Eddie. Even the faces she pulled sometimes reminded yn of her husband.

"Here we are Rosie. Are you ready?" Harmony Rose let go of both of her parents hands and shrugged before turning to run in the gate. If yn didnt gently take her wrist and pull her back she would have left without a second glance. Richie smiled at his favorite people as yn scooped the girl into her arms and went over the rules.

"And no running into annoying boys okay? And if you do run away. Nothing good ever comes from it." Harmony Rose nodded wiggling to get out of her moms glance. Richie scoffed and threw his arm around his wife's waist.

"No if you run into a quiet girl run away. Don't ask her name it's a trap." yn elbowed Richie and gently let Harmony-Rose back down. She blinked back at her parents elbowing each other like kids before sighing and skipping through the gate. She waved back at her parents and took a quick scan of the area eyes lighting up at the sight of an empty swing set.

A young girl clung to her moms leg and cried as her mom tried to calmly get her off. A small group of girls skipped together one looking slightly more bored than the others. A group of boys and girls ran each other in a extreme version of tag. A young boy with blonde parted hair was sent to the ground as Harmony-Rose turned and ran into him. yn smiled as Harmony-Rose helped him up, a small smile on her face.

"Weird isn't it?" She asked once the initial weirdness wore off. Richie shrugged and pulled her closer not taking his eyes off his daughter running off to the swing with the boy in her hand.

"Nah I think it would be weirder if she didn't get a soppy love story." yn smiled and put her hand up to touch her husbands arm. She drew circles on it softly a feeling of peace washing over her.

"Let's hope her life is less chaotic and more soppy then." Richie nodded and the trees behind them rustled sending a gust of wind to blow yn's ice cream patterned dress around her legs. Her cream shoes on her feet seemed to remind her of something she couldn't quite place the hair clip holding her hl hc hair back also seeming rather reminiscent.

"So we're bringing him over for dinner?"'

"Oh yeah. And Mike just texted me saying him and Stan will drop by later so he's already meeting two of her uncles." yn's fingers curled up against the blue button up Richie decided to wear that day and she smiled.

"Perfect."

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herdustisverypretty · 6 years

Text

AND ANOTHER TAG THING {warning: strong and possibly strange opinions, LONG ASS RAMBLES (which most definitely include strong and possibly strange opinions), frequent oversharing}

tagged by the lovely Angel <3

1. If you could go backward in time, what would you do first? #2008 Log- Don’t pretend to not be bothered by HC and co’s behaviour and actually call them out on their shit. Note to self: You don’t owe anyone anything. #2009-2014 Log- Start homeschooling earlier. Maybe actually tell people how you felt too? You might have gotten a diagnosis, and thus the treatment that has drastically improved your life, sooner and you’d probably have a lot less scars. Maybe none. And also might not be immune to the effect of regular painkillers. Also maybe then you’d be able to just get said painkillers from the cupboard where they used to be instead of having to ask your mother permission on whether you can have some- at age 22- and having to swallow them there to prove you’re not hoarding them for later (cause that’s right, you did that once, ya dumb little bastard). #2012-2013 Log aka You STILL don’t owe anyone anything- Also do not engage with HS AT ALL. Just nip that one right in the bud. Don’t even go there. PTSD ain’t fun. Also do not allow HC to worm their way back in later. PTSD still ain’t fun. Though then you probably wouldn’t have written that one VIXX story and not only was writing that story enjoyable (sometimes???? ... maybe?????????), that story did also apparently help a lot of people too...so... maybe don’t fix yourself for the sake of those people who told you your writing helped them through a lot of their own shit. **Particularly never forget the one person who said they hadn’t cried themselves to sleep a night since finding your story. Taking that back from someone is not a nice idea. LOTS OF SHIT THAT BASICALLY MEANS: stop trying to kill yourself, dumbass. people aren’t lying when they say things get better. well, somewhat. also don’t let people take advantage of and abuse you. or maybe do a bit. because your suffering has helped others and that’s all that really matters right? BUT JUST A BIT. definitely not all of it cause that was Shite.

2. Conversely, if you could go forward in time, what would you want to see? Dumb men (I was going to say ‘straight, white, cis, American’ men but realised I’ve seen other types of men also being equally idiotic, SO I GUESS JUST MEN) being deleted from all youtube comments please. Also maybe shut down tumblr. I think we’d all benefit from that tbh. Also while I’m at it, can we have a game similar to Pokemon GO but instead of catching Pokemon you catch hot anime bishies. Get exercise and also get five thousand hot boyfriends :D Also retaining the nickname feature. Because that’ll be entertaining.

3. What’s your favorite word and why? I’ve always been fond of kerfuffle. It just sounds so cute and happy. A kawaii way to say you fucked someone’s shit up. Petrichor is also a DAMN FINE word. It sounds satisfying and the meaning is EVEN MORE SATISFYING.

4. Hot chocolate with milk or with water? Toppings? Marshmallows? It tastes better with milk, but as I at times have more than 3 a day (since I don’t drink coffee and need caffeine), if I plan to have more than 2 I will make them with water. I believe I have already stated my opinion on marshmallows as well lmao.

5. If you could change one thing about your favorite fandom, what would it be? Tbh delete all appreciation for my absolute NOTP. And no, I don’t actually mean Akashi/Furihata like most other Akashi/Kuroko shippers; I occasionally state I don’t particularly care for that ship, but I tend to just ignore it and its existence for the most part. Whereas my actual ‘I FUCKING HATE THIS’ ship, NOPE I WANT THAT OBLITERATED> DELETE ITS EXISTENCE. WIPE IT CLEAN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH. This can also be said to apply to one particular person in said ‘FUCK NO’ NOTP. I have frequently expressed my disdain for this character, I do not make it a secret, so it should be no leap to assume who, and which ship, I’m talking about here.

6. You now have the ability to permanently alter one character from any fandom. Who do you pick, and what do you change? -Lmao. Okay. Well, I’ll name some names after all then, shall I? -Can I just. Completely erase Momoi’s existence from KnB entirely? Jfc I cannot fucking stand her one bit. The only redeeming quality of her very 2D, bland, and at times downright offensive character, is her desire for the GoM to be friends again. And I could live without that somewhat nice sentiment if it meant the remaining 99.9% of her shittiness was gone. I will never like her. -I can occasionally stand her in fanfiction if she does’t have a major appearance, and also if she’s not being monumentally annoying. And even then I don’t feel any issues with killing her off due to dislike of her canon characterisation. I could literally care less what happens to her. Harsh, maybe, but I personally feel she brings nothing of value to this series, and tbh it would be far better, and certainly less cringey, without her. -I have essentially been awake for 3 days so this is probably said with much less delicacy than I would normally use, though regardless of insomnia-induced aggression levels, the base feeling is the same.

7. What is your philosophy on life? (Is it pointless, is it meaningful, is it what you make it, etc…) I honestly don’t care about things such as ‘the meaning of life’. We’re never going to know who put us here, if anything did, or what we’re meant to do, if there is anything, or why we are here at all. Just do whatever you want. Everyone’s going to die and the sun will turn into a black hole and swallow the earth and the universe will ultimately end in a rather unpleasant manner anyway. As long as you’re not harming anyone’s way of life, do what ever you want I could care less. (that got kinda dark... I guess that’s what happens when people ask philosophical questions)

8. Would you consider getting a tattoo? If you would, what would it be and where would you put it? -Well the first tattoo I ever planned on getting (decided upon when I was 15), and the one I still want to be my first, is my recently passed dog’s pawprint tattooed on my left wrist; where I used to frequently self harm. The original idea was to get a tattoo of something meaningful there that would remind me every time I went to hurt myself that there’s still reasons for living. I stopped self harming around the same time my dog died in 2015, and even though I didn’t really need the reminder to not hurt myself in that way, I decided that getting his pawprint (which I was given a print of when he passed) would be especially nice, and would serve as a reminder of things I survived, and should I ever need a reminder in the future. My plan is now to get his paw on my left wrist (where the majority of damage was done, as he was my first pet), and when my cat also passes (hopefully not for a while still), I will get her pawprint on my right wrist. -In less meaningful directions, I’ve also wanted the Grey Warden’s emblem tattooed on me for the longest time. I’m thinking thigh in terms of placement. idek what it is about them, or about the DA series in general. I mean, being a Grey Warden is arguably (is it tho) kind of a shitty thing?? You don’t really want to aspire to that if you enjoy, idk, LIFE? But their tagline of ‘In war, Victory; In Peace, Vigilance; In Death, Sacrifice’ IDK BUT IT JUST GOT ME.

9. What’s your favorite headcanon? (Could be your own or someone else’s) Shit, I have A LOT. *These are all mine as well! (mostly lol) -One that I’m still fond of is the hc that Kuroko becomes sleepy after eating a lot (particularly sugary things) which is one reason he eats quite lightly, and that the GoM during Teikou would always be attempting to overfeed him because they thought it was adorable when he curled up in their laps and went to sleep. -Another I came up with is Akashi not being allowed to play videogames (and probably also not watch much TV) after his mother died. Thus, the GoM (and later Rakuzan regulars, YES YOU TOO MAYU WITH UR LOVE LIVE RHYTHM GAMES) would bring in their DSs and PSPs to school to let him play them as a much needed break from all the pressure being put on him. -Ideas conceived with 6ubblegum earlier such as Masaomi actually having an unrequited interest in Kuroko’s dad when they were younger, and obviously him becoming quite upset when Kuroko’s dad married Kuroko’s mother. We also came up with the idea that Masaomi and Shiori’s marriage was arranged by their parents for mutual family benefits and that the pair never cared much for each other, and also that Shiori was aro (also I angstily suggested ‘imagine her crying under her veil as she walked down the aisle tho’). Then I also suggested the idea of what if Shiori and Kuroko’s mother were friends, going on playdates with their sons (and also the humorous idea of them putting baby Akashi+Kuroko in matching dresses). So in the end, Masaomi has never been much interested in his own son, and the only person who cared about Akashi truly was his mother, who is now gone. Also Masaomi becoming understandably VERY opposed when Akashi begins dating Kuroko in school. -Anything involving mentally ill GoM + others (though a chunk of these aren’t even headcanons and more: I am 100% convinced these characters actually have these conditions). Especially fond of self-harmer Akashi. -Also literally any hc where any particular character is either aro, ace, or both. I reeaaaally love ace Kise actually. -AGENDER REO!!!!! -I’ll end it with a somewhat nsfw one. The shameless guilty pleasure with 6ubble of Kise and Kuroko being known as the sluts of the Teikou. They’ve definitely boned all the regulars (including NIji) at least once. Probably more. definitely more

10. Do humans have souls? Do animals? I’ve been awake far too long for these kinds of questions XD UHHH in my personal belief I’ve always maintained the idea that all living creatures (this includes humans, as humans are primates) have a sort of.. living energy?? My belief is that once a creature dies, of its lifeforce/energy/soul/the magic keeping it alive/whatever you fancy calling it, the personality part (which I would say comes from the brain and is made up of memories and of course the individual’s unique personality) goes to a plane with other deceased energies (suppose you could call this heaven of a sort - tbh I always pictured it as kinda like the pyreflies in FFX), while the rest of the energy (which I would say comes from the heart and is, I guess, the emotions the individual has experienced through life) is recycled and returned to the earth to be used again. SOOO a sort of somewhat logical theory that combines both afterlife and reincarnation. I also think that the recycled energies can recognise other energies they knew in previous lives. Not in a literal sense, but more like, they might feel an inexplicable connection, be it between two people, a pet and a human, etc etc. I kinda like the idea of this also explaining real life cases of supposed ‘soulmates’. Two energies meeting that once knew each other and were compatible in a previous life (sounds really YA romance I know). This could also be potentially used to explain some conditions or mental illnesses. Recycled energy that previously had lots of negative experiences may be renewed as someone who is also troubled (blame ur disorders on your energy ancestors lmao). This could explain troubled people who have no family history of any similar experiences. IT ALL SOUNDS VERY FANTASTICAL BUT YE. This has all come together after years of viewing and researching many different spiritual beliefs and recounts of spiritual or other ‘incredible’ events, in an attempt to kind of merge everything into something that could potentially be real and/or believable. Idk if scientifically this would make any sense, but I feel it’s logical enough to suit me anyways.

11. What’s your favorite holiday and why? Well I have mentioned I’m pagan before, sooooo, my answer to this will probably be weird? XD LONG AND BORING BACKSTORY TIME: I didn’t really become self identified as pagan until the age of 13-14, and before that I grew up typically celebrating Christian holidays (Easter, Christmas) despite my immediate family not being religious at all. I always saw these holidays as more just time to be with family than anything else. So I do still celebrate Easter and Christmas as I’ve grown up with them in a culture that celebrates them whether you’re religious or not. I guess Christmas was always my favourite? It’s roughly a month after my birthday, far enough that I get double presents, but close enough that there’s still lots of ongoing excitement. And growing up it was typically the only time each side of my family would all be together (we’d alternate, one year at my mum’s parents, the next at my dad’s). But as I’ve gotten older, and grandparents have died and families have drifted apart, I’ve become less interested in both Easter and Christmas, seeing them now more as just times to buy stuff for people when you really can’t afford to, and tbh now I find myself more drawn to things such as Samhain (also ref that if you have seen spn, they butchered the pronunciation. it’s more akin to ‘sah-ween’ it’s an Irish word I think, which explains everything tbh) in particular. Before last year I had never sought out other pagans in my area and thus was a bit lax in my celebration of sabbats, so when I actually started meeting up with other people in my city early last year, it actually really changed things for me (so emotional sobsob). The Samhain I celebrated with this group earlier in the year (as I’m in the southern hemisphere, Samhain for me is in May) was actually a really really special thing that I did. It also happened to coincide around the 2 year anniversary of my dog’s death, and as Samhain (which has become modern Halloween to most) is a day for celebrating loved ones who have died, it was just a really nice experience to think about my dog, as well as my grandmother who died 3 months before him. THAT WAS A LONG, BORING, AND MUSHY WAY OF SAYING THAT BASICALLY: ‘pagan Halloween’ (tho that term doesn’t even make sense lmao) is actually really lovely and memorable compared to almost every other ‘traditional’ holiday of my life.

Geez you just happened to ask all The Big Questions. And you literally went from 100 to 0 to 100 and then probably to 1000. Or maybe that was just me. I AM VERY TIRED AFTER VOMITING ALL THAT OUT. also my finger joints hurt.

WELL, if you got all through that, here are my own questions, which I totally Did Not steal from other question memes already in existence. I’m definitely not lazy. No I’m actually just very tired lol. These are all going to be fandomy/OTPy questions because WE REALLY NEED SOME LIGHT CONTENT AFTER ALL THAT. Plus everyone loves talking about their fandoms and shit.

1. A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind? 2. What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? What fandom was it? 3. Your favourite fandom {for the people, not the thing you spazz over}? 4. Are there any fandom popular ships that you don’t like or just don’t get? Alternatively, are there any typically overlooked minor ships that you think are really underappreciated? (hay this one i made up myself lol) 5. What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom? 6. What’s a popular romantic/sexual ship that you can only ever see as a brotp? (also me!) 7. If you had the chance to make your OTP canon, and your NOTP very clearly stated as ‘definitely not canon eVER’, how would you express this in your ‘new canon’? (i’m on a roll) 8. Which character is Daddy Material? (there’s always at least one, admit it) 9. Character you relate to and why? (please share all tragic similarities) 10. As either a reader, writer, or both!, what’s your favourite fanfic genre and/or tropes? Are there any you always stay away from? 11. Opinions on omegaverse (in any and all forms, ranging from early spn fics, to the surprising amount of BTS/kpop fics, or have you tried the Japanese manga take on omegaverse - or even.... Life From the Ashes)?

#self

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toolatetofall · 7 years

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I love all your Alec/Ellen fanfics on AO3!! Do you had any headcanons on them and the twins?

Naawww, thank you ❤️❤️❤️ I really appreciate the encouragement! It’s always wonderful to hear people are enjoying ❤️❤️❤️(makes it feel more worthwhile, yknow? :3)

Yes! I do have some HCs! Sorry it took so long to reply, I had to compile a list, haha, and I’m sure I have more.

RYDER FAMILY HEADCANONS

ALEC-has 2 sisters; one older (Anna), one younger(Ashton). His older sister is a pilot in the Alliance; (she was in the air force before the Alliance was formed), but she retires after Alec’s AI research screws her career. She constantly nags Alec to keep in contact, but he’s really shitty at it. He tried to recruit her for the Initiative, but Anna refused. His younger sister is an artist, and is even worse than Alec about staying in touch with people. Ashton and Alec aren’t particularly close.-Alec’s mother was actually a big influence in his life, and his becoming interested in AI. She was an engineer before retiring. His father was a clinical psychologist. -Alec has a long list of allergies, including but not limited to bees, pollen, tree nuts, animal fur, and (according to his kids) a full spectrum of human emotion -the first contact war was the first time Alec killed anyone (that part is actually canon, not HC); he doesn’t actually enjoy the fighting/killing- he much prefers the exploratory/engineering/tactical aspects of his work for the Alliance-his armor is biotically focused because his abilities come completely from Sam, and are therefore weaker than a normal biotic’s

ELLEN-Ellen was adopted by her mothers when she was young. One of her moms was a Brazilian diplomat, the other was a British author. She has an adopted younger brother, Alistair, but they’re not close. He helped colonize mindoir, and was killed in the 2170 batarian raid.-Ellen feels guilty about the twins being biotics, and about the social consequences. She feels like this forced them both into the Alliance.-LOVES music of all kinds, and loves to dance. She’s the only one in their family with any sense of rhythm. -Ellen had already completed her degree when she met Alec in Rio in 2153, meaning she’s 5 years older than Alec, give or take.

SCOTT-His mother was the one who taught him how to surf-He’s wanted to join the Alliance since he was a child, back before his relationship with Alec started sucking-Scott loves Fantasy and science fiction novels; it was one of the few things and Alec had in common and could talk about without arguing-Scott’s major outbursts at Alec usually come from when Alec inadvertently blows off spending time with Ellen, Sara, or the whole family (and hurting them as a result); Scott maintains that he doesn’t care for himself, just that he doesn’t hurt them. -When Scott hears Alec’s logs (after waking up, since Sara is my pathfinder), he cries. And gets angry. Then cries some more.

SARA-unlike her brother, Sara doesn’t swim. She knows how, but she nearly drowned when she was young and now avoids the water-(My) Sara is ace-Sara loves to rock climb. Partially because it was one of the few times she gets to hang out with her dad -if Sara hadn’t been a biotic, (and if Ellen hadn’t gotten sick and they had money to spend on school), Sara would have gone to university and become a researcher (changing her major several times before settling on Xeno cultural studies and anthropology)-Sara liked to garden with her mother; they had one on earth when she was small that Sara helped weed, and a little one on their apartment’s balcony on the citadel.

SPACE PARENTS-Ellen had a pet cat when they married that Alec was allergic to. He didn’t tell her until after the cat died, a few months after the twins were born.-Ellen knew about the initiative, and tho she was skeptical, she understood they were paying for Sam, and she was planning to go to andromeda if her disease didn’t kill her-Alec has a whole playlist on his omnitool of songs Ellen has sent him over the years. He brought it with him to Andromeda

THE WHOLE FAMILY-Ryder family game night is notoriously cut throat. They are all extremely competitive. Even when the kids were young, Alec never let them win-prior to Alec getting the attaché position, the Ryder’s lived in Yamba in Australia. Ellen still worked with researchers in Rio, but coordinated with a multitude of universities in Australia and in the pacific. (She traveled a fair amount.) The twins loved the beach, and that home was Ellen’s favorite. When they move back to Earth, they move back to Yamba, albeit with much cheaper accommodations.-they alternated vacations between Alec’s parents in California (and hiking in the Sierra Nevada mountains), and Rio de Janeiro (and its beaches). When they lived on the citadel, they would also visit Yamba

#long post #mass effect #andromeda #ryder family #headcanons #Alec ryder #Ellen ryder #scott ryder #sara syder #ryder twins #ryder parents

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