#say it louder for the people at the back!!
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sweet dreams
It should have been simple: boy meets girl then falls in love. Except everything only happened in his dreams. Can Theodore Nott bridge the gap between fantasy and reality to get the girl of his dreams?
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Guilty as Sin?
Theodore Nott x f!Reader
Warning: Fluff, some smut so 18+ only MDNI, characters are aged up. Uses a magical concept that deviates from canon.
✿ Masterlist | 2.9k words
Prologue
The door creaked as you swung it open to leave The Three Broomsticks, eager to breathe in the cool evening air. You scrunched your note as smoke invaded the fresh air you hoped for and turned towards the culprit, Theodore Nott. You didn’t know him personally, but guys as popular as him did not need introduction.
He didn’t notice you as he took another puff and the streetlamp cast him in a soft halo. It was not fair how some people could look so effortlessly gorgeous.
“Want one?” He reached out when he finally saw you staring, offering you his pack of cigarettes.
You huffed, “No thanks, I was hoping for some fresh air.”
He simply shrugged and turned the other way, smoking in a different direction and out of your way.
You hoped the cool air could return some of your sobriety, but nothing was as effective as a good ol’ near de*th experience. You looked up when you heard someone shrieking from the distance, growing louder and louder until you saw a broomstick zig zag across the sky that was quickly hurtling towards you and Theo.
Theo was quicker than you, holding his wand out and casting a spell just fast enough to redirect the impact to an open space. By the time you held your wand out, you had enough wits about you to cushion the witch’s fall.
You ran towards her to make sure she was fine. She laid on the ground as if she was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the accident. You crouched beside her, arm outstretched to wake her when-
“Oh bumbling broomstick!” She yelled out and sat upright. You yelped in surprise, yanking yourself back and landing on your bottom. Theo was there within seconds, offering you a hand.
You took it and it was unbelievably soft, his grip strong as he supported you back up from the ground. You registered the smell of alcohol and cigarettes with a subtle hint of expensive cologne. You wanted to take another whiff, but reminded yourself to focus.
“A - are you okay?” You turned back to strange woman, careful to keep your distance this time.
“That chap knows sod all about wizard engineering. Mixing magic and muggle work - ridiculous!” she spat in disdain, dusting off her dress.
She turned around, catching your worried look and Theo’s stoic expression, noticing you both for the first time. “Oh my, where are my manners?” She asked, straightening her back and introducing herself.
“I’m Miss Amelia Adams, thank you for rescuing me,” you shook hands and smiled at her politely, introducing yourselves in return.
Your eyebrows knit together as she fished around her bag, looking for something.
She beamed when she found it and held out a daisy for you. “To properly thank you, please accept this flower,” she then leaned in conspiratorially, “it grants a wish.”
She winked before gathering herself and her ‘bumbling broomstick’ as she called it. “Well, I’m off,” she declared, walking away as quickly as she had come before you had any chance to say goodbye.
You were stunned, holding the flower in your hand. You scoffed at the idea of wishes, the only way to get something is to go out there and take it. Hard work and strategy was far more effective than any wish. After a few moments of awkward silence, you turned to Theo. “That was…” you trailed off, trying to find the right word.
“Odd,” he completed for you, just as stunned as you were.
“Are you okay?” You asked Theo. He grunts and you reassured him you’re fine in return.
“Have this flower, you saved us first. Thanks, by the way. You should get the wish,” you said casually, only half believing the mysterious Miss Amelia.
He accepted it and placed it in his coat, stoic expression still in place. When he said nothing else, you turned on your heels to go back to your friends in the pub.
You paused when Theo called after you as if saying goodbye as an afterthought. “See you at school?” He said. It seems he recognized you too.
You turned around and gave him a friendly grin, “in your dreams,” you said in a playful tone. Despite being school mates, you and Theo revolved around different orbits. You experienced just enough failed relationships to know better than to start a friendship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.
He just smirked and watched you go before returning to his cigarette. Had he held the flower in his hand, he would have noticed it glow before bursting into tiny glitters, a wish about to come true.
That night, Theo first dreamt of you.
Main story, months later
The booming party music faded when Theo heard the familiar sound of your laughter. He shifted in the Slytherin common room couch as his entire focus gravitated towards you like you were the sun his planet revolved around.
It was always disorienting, he thought, to hear and see you somewhere outside his dreams. Mostly because you never looked his way here but in his dreams, you’ve given him everything he ever needed and more.
He recalled the first words you ever said to him in his dream, “you again?”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked with his boyish grin, amused. He wasn’t used to seeing this reaction from others except for his friends.
He no longer remembered the rest of that conversation, but one minute you two were laughing at something silly and the next, he was tucked comfortably in bed. It was then he realized it was all a dream he could just laugh off and forget about. It was no longer funny by the third night he kept seeing you.
You both discussed how absurd this all was until you realized how fun it could also be. So you tested different ways you could take your power back and control the dream you found yourselves in. He discovered you were smart and funny, it warmed something in Theo’s heart that he did not care to examine.
Soon enough, he was flying with you through the sky, swerving through clouds as the stars blurred past like strings of fairy lights. You both flew like it was the most natural thing in the world, no broomsticks needed. He felt like a kid again, fearless and free.
One time, he went to a muggle amusement park you heard so many great things about. You rode on roller coasters and ferris wheels then ate candy floss. You would have gotten a fever the next day from all the sugar and shouting if not for the fact this all happened in your dreams. He had never felt happier.
On quiet nights, you laid on cool grassy hills enjoying the evening breeze. Sometimes, you watched sunsets on the beach while listening to the ocean waves. Those were his favorite days. You told him about your big plans and ambitions. He tried to stifle his smiles, but your energy was so infectious. The world felt bigger and brighter when he was around you.
He’d tell you about his mother. How close they were before they were permanently separated. He said he kept her alive by remembering their happy moments that he’d tell you stories about. He also talked about his strained relationship with his father and how silly his friends were, but oh how he’d d*e for them.
He found himself spilling thoughts and secrets he could never tell anyone else. He stammered every now and then, not used to opening up, but you were so patient. He felt safe with you because you’re a good listener. Besides, wasn’t he basically just talking to a figment of his imagination? He tried not to overthink it.
Theo felt the couch beside him dip as the familiar smell of smoke and cologne announced Mattheo’s presence. “Want to go for a smoke?” He asked with a smirk as he flashed a joint.
“Later, okay?” Theo replied distracted, his focus still on you.
A student rose from the couch and moved away as Lorenzo approached. Thanks to their popularity, the boys always seemed to find a convenient seat when they needed it. He joined the two with a grin, drinks in hand. Mattheo took in Enzo’s disheveled hair and loose tie. He accepted the drink and gave him a high five knowing he already had his conquest for the night. Theo accepted the drink and just held it.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Mattheo asked, taking a swig from his cup.
Enzo blushed and took a sip of his drink. “You know I never kiss and tell.”
Mattheo rolled his eyes in response, “until you’re drunk enough.” He pushed Enzo’s cup back to his mouth. “Come on, drink up.”
Theo tuned out the conversation and he saw you dancing with your friends, your hips moving to the beat of the music. His eyes darkened as he remembered how those hips rocked into his. It didn’t take long before you first kissed him under the stars when the conversation died down, simply because there was nothing else to say.
All other thoughts and sentiments could only be expressed in the way your fingers gripped his wavy hair, when he bit your bottom lip and you moaned against him. Before he knew it, you were reciting his name like a prayer even though it felt anything but sacred when he slammed his hips into your dripping pussy. He savoured the way your nails scratched his back. He didn’t know until then how someone’s grip could make him feel so wanted.
He always made sure you knew he how much he appreciated you:
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well amore.”
“I’ll make you feel so good principessa, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” he’d say as he stuffed his hard length down your throat.
He memorized your shape and knew just where to touch you to be rewarded with your filthy moans and curses. He liked making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Loud screams, sheets gripped, chest heaving. He took delight in the way you came undone for him, your little whimpers were so cute he could not resist thrusting faster into you so he could feel you clench against his desperate cock again and again.
His favorite part was after he came inside you when you swiped your finger on your upper thigh and brought his spilled seed to your lips. You said you loved the way he tastes. He always said you could have as much as you want, he was all yours and you were his.
“Theo, mate?” Blaise called out to the unresponsive boy who gazed intently at the crowd.
He turned to Mattheo and narrowed his eyes, “how much weed did you give him?” Blaise couldn’t help but worry about his friends, it was exhausting really. Mattheo pushed Theo outside his comfort zone whereas Theo pulled Mattheo back in when he went to extremes. They always kept each other in check, but he was worried that balance could tip off at any moment.
“Easy on the accusation, he’s a big boy. He can do what he wants,” Mattheo replies defensively. “Besides he hasn’t taken any green, he’s too high on that girl already. Been eye fucking her all night.”
Mattheo’s harsh words finally cut through Theo’s daydreams and his jaw twitched in annoyance, “I’m not. You should talk about her more respectfully.”
Enzo chimed in, “you know I hate agreeing with Mattheo, but he’s right.” Ignoring Mattheo’s de*th glare, he continued, “there’s nothing respectful about the way you’ve been looking at that poor girl.”
Theo just rolled his eyes and groaned, not wanting to discuss this with his friends. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke,” and walked away before anyone could protest or go with him.
As he walked, his thoughts returned to you. One day, you laughed because of his jokes. He laughed because he was in love with you.
He laughed at how ridiculous it all was, but it had been months and he could no longer deny it. He always thought love was overrated. How can others go out there declaring love like it’s a wild adventure you’re about to embark on? Love that you would fight and break for? He didn’t want an adventure nor a battlefield.
Then there was you and he realized everything he knew about love had only been one version of it. Being with you restored his breath and calmed the butterflies in his stomach. It’s a love that did not challenge him to be better, but instead told him he is already good enough. That he was always enough. It’s the kind of love that felt like home. It’s the kind he never knew he needed.
You haunted him even when he was awake. He was always tempted to approach you to see if the things he saw in his head could be real. His only clue was the way you wore ribbons in your hair and how it matched your mood to the stories you’d tell him.
He noticed you wore red when you were angry like the time you had to do a group project by yourself. You wore blue when you felt sad and green when you felt generally peaceful. His favorite was pink because it meant you were happy. He noticed how the closer you got, you wore the pink ribbon more often. But today, you wore a black ribbon. He had never seen it before and it worried him. Then again it was only a theory, maybe it didn’t mean anything.
So he always talked himself out of approaching you. Theodore Nott was used to broken things whereas everything with you and about you was perfect. He knew at the very least to leave it well enough alone.
His thoughts carried him to the Astronomy Tower where he lit his cigarette and stared at the evening sky.
“You always seem to be polluting the fresh air I go out for.” Something in his heart froze and then burned brightly. It was you. He heard the smile in your voice before he turned around to look at you. Salazar, you were so beautiful.
“You always seem to find me when you need fresh air. Are you sure you’re not just looking for me?” He teased, but nevertheless moved to extinguish his cigarette.
You chuckled at Mr. Arrogant who always knew his way around girls. “I was joking, keep your cigarette though your lungs probably hate you.”
He scoffed, he already hated himself. But mostly, he hated how desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss you without being a total creep. “I’ll survive,” he replied, taking a final drag before snuffing it out. “What brings you here?”
“Aside from the not-so-fresh air?” You grinned before turning serious. “This is a nice place to think.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Salazar, he’s relentless. “I’m in an impossible situation and I’m starting to lose hope,” you admit. So that’s what the black is for, Theo realized.
He scrunched his nose as he thought twice about what he was about to say. It was so silly trying to hold back when he’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked for it. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t lose hope.”
You laughed at him and let out an exaggerated gasp, “coming from Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?”
He laughed in return, “ah, my reputation precedes me.”
“Exactly, so don’t go around saying things like that. People might think you have a heart behind that big brain of yours.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He leaned in conspiratorially.
“No, everyone would stare at you then.”
“You know it’s rude to stare.”
“Oh yeah? What should I do instead?” You challenged.
“Kiss me,” he said with a smirk, a half joke and a half plea.
You laughed and took a step back, placing distance between you. So this was how he got girls, you mused.
Salazar, he was losing you. If he was going to try, he had to be sincere. No charms, no masks. “Amore, I…” he began but grew self conscious at the nickname. “I mean, I wanted to…” he started then stopped. “I wonder if…” he tried again.
“I know,” you said, fire burning behind your eyes at recognition. This was the boy of your dreams. Awkward when he tries to be sincere and it was so adorable. It always made you feel special because you knew he had walls for the rest of the world. But with you, he was at home.
You closed the distance to meet his lips and the kiss said everything he needed to know. All those evenings together talking beneath starlit skies, exploring flesh and soul, falling in love. They were real.
His hands found the curve of your hips so naturally as he pulled you closer against him, just like he’s done countless times. He savoured the way your fingers made their way through his hair. Everything felt electric, at once new and familiar. It was better than anything you had dreamed of.
When you both broke for air, you found yourself blinking in disbelief. “How do we both have the same dreams?”
Theo just shook his head as if to say he didn’t know but then he remembered your first meeting. There was a witch with a bumbling broomstick and a flower. His eyes widened. “The flower from all those months ago.”
Your eyes lit up with remembrance, “the mysterious Miss Amelia!” You brought your hand to your lips, “I didn’t think it was real. I said you’d see me in your dreams.”
“And now you’re my dream come true, amore,” he said, pulling you in for a hug.
You giggled at how sweet Mr. Not So Emotionally Unavailable could be. “And you’re mine. See you tonight then?”
He chuckled, “and then tomorrow I’ll take you on a real date?”
You scrunched your face, “but now we can’t fly through the stars anymore.”
“Oh, I have other ideas,” he whispered in your ear.
Your heart leapt to your throat and anticipation hummed in your veins. After all, some things were sweeter than dreams.
✿ Masterlist
A/N: I've mostly written for Enzo and Mattheo until now but when I thought of this plot, I just knew only Theo could do it justice. So this is how I wound up writing my first Theo fic. Hope you liked it!
#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott smut#theo nott#theodore nott#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#amongemeraldcloudswrites
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝓥𝐈𝐄𝐖 ] anatchaya suputhipong
␥ g!p natty x fem!reader
␥ 963 words
🚨 SMUT, praise, unprotected, hair pulling, potential exhibitionism/public, college!au, creampie, squirting
␥ you, the quiet student who minds her own business, gets persuaded to follow one of your problematic peers to the school rooftop.
One thing about being the ‘quiet one’ is that you’re a fly on the wall to people’s conversations. Being the one who barely says a word allows you a peek into everyone else’s business.
Which is how you’re aware of the chaos and drama that happens between a group of two-faced nepo babies or two supposed ‘best friends’ where one is trying to take the other’s boyfriend away.
The drama proves that no one can be trusted, and that it’s best to mind your own business, learn the material, and graduate. But who knew that minding your own business could still lead you to trouble.
Natty, one of the many problematic peers you try to avoid, had approached you at the beginning of the week. As friendly as she was, you internally questioned why she would talk to you now when she has been in at least one class with you every semester. Nonetheless, you were certain that she just wanted to copy your work, and you couldn’t care enough to fight her off on it.
Except she didn’t want to copy off of you.
In fact, she didn’t want anything school-related from you.
A shallow thrust of her cock from behind pries your dripping cunt open and forces your chest up against the hard wall that you’re pinned against. You don’t know how you let her convince you to come up to the rooftop where any student could hear and see you but here you are, wrapped around Natty’s finger with your soiled panties tucked away in her pocket.
You whimper when she tugs at your hair, forcing your head back. Her laughter sends a chill down your spine as you’ve fallen prey to an attractive girl’s advances, but getting tangled up in bad business might—for once—be something you won’t regret.
Clearly, because you’re no longer trying to escape.
“What a beauty.” Her breathy remarks fan over your neck, goosebumps pricking your sensitive skin. “I’ve always wanted to feel what it’s like being inside you.”
Her grip on your roots tighten, igniting a sense of pain and pleasure that threatens to buckle your knees and fall at her mercy.
You’ve never thought of such a thing about anyone. You will acknowledge hot and beautiful women but never intended to jump on anyone for a piece of them. You’ve certainly never thought that anyone saw you in the same light. You may not be as observant as you thought you were.
But Natty gives off the vibe of someone who doesn’t stick around and makes moves on multiple women. You fully expect to be one of her many conquests, therefore not caring that this may be your only experience with her. You’re simply here in the moment, reveling in the way her cock makes you feel like there’s not enough room to spare.
In the midst of the heat, she slides out, filling you with momentary despair as she spins you around to face her. With your back to the wall, she raises your leg over her shoulder. Your flexibility somehow exists and is tested but with lust still burning in the pit of your belly, you don’t feel any discomfort. Your ample wetness grants her cock easy access and you heave a relieved sigh as she resumes fucking you.
“What a pretty girl,” she boasts with a smirk as her pace tests your balance. “So pretty dripping for me like this.”
The mess between your thighs can’t be denied. After coming once on her fingers, you can feel another impending wave in the distance. Natty has acquired enough experience—be it through various women or a lot of alone time—to know how to touch you and make you come. You can sense the rise of her ego as your noises become louder and more frequent. With your cunt threatening to resist her, she’s fucking you harder, knocking your back against the hard wall with each thrust of her hips.
“Na-Natty,” you whine, one hand clawing on the back of your thigh and the other digging into the wall behind you for balance.
Your legs begin trembling. The earth is taunting you below, ready to cushion a hard descent from the ecstasy that’s rushing through your limbs. Your eyes roll back as her thumb sneaks between both of your hips and flicks over your engorged clit. Just as you’re about to let out a shamelessly loud moan, the door to the rooftop slams open on the other side.
You immediately slap a hand over your mouth, but Natty doesn’t stop. She only grins and drills you harder. Whatever thought that crossed your mind is fucked out of you, and you suffer in the presence of your oblivious peers as you gush around her cock. You’re ready to slide down the wall but she keeps you propped up and uses you to her desire.
Each thrust forces spurts of your cum out, leaving your thighs and the cold hard ground in a messy puddle of your release. Your eyelids flutter open and you spectate Natty’s orgasm. Her hips stutter after she bottoms out inside you, stuffing you with a shallow thrust. Warmth floods your insides and your eyes roll back as she forces you to take it all in.
“God,” she grunts against your chest.
You hope that your peers don’t hear from the other side of the rooftop. That they don’t catch on to the ‘quiet one’ getting her brains fucked out by one of the sociable, troublemaking ones.
If word were to spread, you would have no choice but to transfer schools. But if that bridge needs to be crossed, you’ll do so when you get there.
For now, you simply accept the white hot release that’s flooding and dripping out of you.
#girl group imagines#girl group smut#kiss of life smut#kiof smut#natty smut#kiss of life imagines#kiof imagines#natty imagines#a new start 😊
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Prompt 28 - Dogwalking AU
@wolfstarmicrofic - April 28th, 1284 words
The doorbell rings in the middle of a Saturday, and Padfoot, bless that big silly boy, barks and wags his tail in his better impersonation of a golden retriever.
When Remus picked him up from the shelter, he was told Padfoot was a dog not many people took interest in, big and black as he was, people assumed he'd be aggressive. No matter he was actually a sweet silly puppy at heart, no matter his previous owner had obviously trained him well. In French of all languages, but still, well trained once you got the hang of the right commands.
It was Lily who had called him, almost begging him to take this dog. Padfoot was clearly struggling to adapt to the shelter, needed extra cuddles from the humans, and although he was very friendly, the volunteers could see him getting sadder by the day. So Lily, in her endless wisdom, had called the one friend who also needed some extra company, who also needed those extra cuddles, and who struggled to voice that need. And so Remus had found himself with a lap full of Padfoot and jumpers that would forever be interwoven with black dog hair.
Enough to say it had been some very happy six months so far.
So here they are, cuddling on the sofa, Remus with a cup of tea on one hand and a dark romance novel in the other, something he's reading for the bookclub Mary roped him into. Padfoot lying down mostly on top of him, a happy dog smile on his furry little face as he drools in his sleep. The doorbell rings and Padfoot scrambles up, paws expertly finding and painfully digging in all of Remus' soft places.
"Coming! Just a sec! No, Pads, back, stand back- No, Padfoot, wait, listen you need to let me open the door-" Remus finally manages to push Padfoot out of the way and open the door just a crack. Outside, there are two handsome young men, one big and buff and sporting a pair of glasses that would look nerdy on anyone else but on him just look sexy, and one tall and lean, leather jacket and wide legged pants hugging a tight waist barely visible under a crop top.
Remus immediately can be sure of two things: one, it's been way too long since he got laid if he's thirsting so hard over strangers, and two, this is probably a type of scam, since how else would two people that looked like this ever knock randomly on Remus' door?
"Hi!" The dark skinned one says with a bright smile. Padfoot barks louder, trying to push against Remus' legs.
"No, Pads, please shh- Hello?" Remus answers.
"Is that your dog?" Says the man in leather, hands in his pockets, but head trying to peak behind Remus. Padfoot barks and barks and barks.
"Yeah?" Remus says, and it's almost a question. "Sorry for the noise, if that's the problem, we're usually a lot quieter than this, he's just excit-"
"He's a very handsome dog" interrupts the man, eyes shining.
"...ok" Remus doesn't want to be rude, really, but what ever? He almost closes the door in their faces, he would have, if he wasn't both trying to hold the door and stop Padfoot from pushing it open. "No, Pads, please, what is happening, love? Please shhh"
"I told you it was Padfoot!" Says the one with the glasses, slapping the other man on the back and then coming even closer, to kneel by Remus' door and try to pet Padfoot through the small crack. Padfoot goes berserk at this. "Name's James, this is Sirius-" James nods to the other man, and then his voice shifts to a baby voice "-and this is baby Padfoot, yes you are, yes you are baby boy, who's the bestest boy?"
"How did you, uhm, did you find my address from the shelter?" Remus says, thinking maybe Lily lead them here.
"The shelter? He was in a shelter?" Sirius eyes snap up to Remus' face, searching for something. His eyes are still shining dangerously.
"Oh no, I saw you two walking and I followed you the other day" James says casually, as if that's just the most normal thing to do, follow people home, and then adds, with a wink "I could recognize my nephew anywhere"
Remus finally opens the door, and Padfoot runs out, jumping up and down, around the two men. He then jumps right up onto Sirius chest, huge black dog being held like the most precious thing, and Sirius just starts bawling, right then and there, against Padfoot's fur. The dog licks his face and wags his tail. Remus is moved but also very, very confused.
"I was told he was surrendered" Remus says, doubtfully, after the sobs diminish. "His family couldn't take care of him anymore"
"They told me they killed him" Sirius says, and starts sobbing hard again. James runs a hand up and down his back, looking pained.
"Maybe Reggie took him. He's smart like that, and you always said he loves animals, he probably lied to them" James says, and looks at Remus as if asking for support on this. Remus almost throws his hands up. What can he even say? He doesn't know who this Reggie person is! Hell, he doesn't know who these two men are!
"So" Remus starts, feeling at a loss but also starting to feel slightly annoyed. Whoever these people are, they are clearly the previous owners, but Remus- well, Remus loves this dog, alright? And he's not going to let him go, especially not back to the family that abandoned him in the first place. "I'm sorry, but- you can't take him"
The two men look up at him, Sirius still teary eyed, James tilting his head as if confused.
"You can't take him with you, I mean" Remus says, hoping his voice sounds more confident than he feels. "He's- we live together, now, he's been living here for months, and he was in the shelter a long time too, so I don't think-"
"No, I understand" Sirius interrupts, and Padfoot finally jumps down. Wagging his tail happily, watching all of them with big, happy eyes.
"Sirius-" James starts, voice unsure.
"No, James, that makes sense. This is his home now and I think..." Sirius trails off.
"Remus"
"...I think Remus is right" he finishes, hand on his hips and nodding as if trying to convince himself.
James looks at Sirius with something close to heartbreak in his eyes, Sirius looks at Padfoot adoringly, Padfoot comes to Remus, all silly smiles and happy tail, and Remus says something he had never considered before.
"Maybe you could walk him, sometimes?" Remus says, and when two sets of eyes look up at him, he blushes. "I mean, he will still live here, but if you want... You could take him for walks, or to the dog park"
"Oh! Like joint custody!" James perks up with a bright smile. Remus winces.
"Like dogwalking" Remus corrects, but he sees Sirius' hopeful smile.
"Yeah, I'd- I'd love that, actually."
Remus' heart beats faster when Sirius looks him straight in the eyes. He suddenly has a feeling this will all be too much like co-parenting.
He blushes, and when Sirius says he'll stop by the next day and asks Remus for his favorite coffee order so he can bring some for him, Remus fights the urge to bite his lip like a teenage girl.
He closes the door, and slides down until he's sitting with his back against it, and a lap full of happy, panting Padfoot.
"Oh, Pads, what did we get ourselves into?"
-
You can read more of my work here
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drabble prompt; can we have some big sibs being protective over the baby? (tails as the baby, obv)
word count-636
ao3 link
“Alright, let's get started.” Amy said, clasping her hands together. She was standing in front of the large consoles that controlled the wall of monitors Tails had built.
“What’s the point in doing this?” A soldier, a brown raccoon, asked with a deep frown. “With Sonic dead there's no hope in us winning.”
“Sonic isn't dead.” Tails mumbled, his gaze locked onto the map sat atop the table everyone was gathered around.
“Then where is he?” The soldier asked, rolling his eyes. “You gotta grow up and accept that Sonic's–”
“Leave him alone.” Knuckles turned to the soldier to glare at him.
“I'm just saying!” The raccoon raised his paws defensively. “He needs to–”
“You've said enough, Ranger.” Amy frowned at him before sighing. “We're going to find Sonic, but right now we have to focus on pushing Eggman back.”
“Good luck with that.” Another soldier, a light blue lion huffed. “The closest thing we have to Sonic can't go outside without having a panic attack.” She made a point to look towards the little fox, rolling her eyes when he didn't move to argue with her.
Silver frowned at her, “He's going through a lot. Give him a break.”
“We're all going through a lot, Silver.” The lion said, crossing her arms. “But at least we're pulling our weight.”
“Come on, Quinn.” A gray cat sighed, “That's not fair.”
“Who cares about being fair, Hazy?” Ranger asked, frowning. “He's dealt with Eggman longer than any of us! He watched Sonic die, the least he could do is help out in the fights!”
“Hey!” Amy shouted, glaring at the raccoon and lion. “Both of you, stop it.” She scolded.
“You know we're right, Commander.” Quinn grumbled. “He's practically useless right now.”
More arguments broke out after that. Some defending Tails, but most berating him.
Silver went to join the conversation, but stopped when he felt a head push itself into his neck.
Looking down to his right, he found Tails trying to hide himself against the gray hedgehog. He was trembling slightly, ears pressed against his head as his paws clung to his tails that were twirled around each other.
Silver frowned, “Knuckles–” He looked up, stopping himself when he realized the echidna was standing now. He was arguing with Quinn, baring his teeth at her.
“Amy?” He turned to the pink hedgehog next, but she was busy trying to get everyone to stop yelling.
“Guys!–” Silver tried to raise his voice, but everyone else only got louder.
He groaned and looked around the room as he hugged the fox, trying to find a way to get everyone's attention.
His eyes eventually landed on the light switch beside the door.
Using his telekinesis, he flipped the switch down. The room went dark, causing the arguments to end in gasps as people looked around to figure out what happened.
Once it was just quiet mumbling, Silver flicked the lights back on. “Guys.” He called, watching as everyone finally turned to look at him. “You're scaring him.”
Knuckles and Amy immediately looked down at Tails, the latter's ears wilting at the sight of her brother.
Ranger scoffed and went to say something, but the pink hedgehog quickly beat him to it, “Silver, Knuckles, please go take him to his room and try to calm him down.” She ordered, looking at the two.
Silver nodded and shifted the little fox so he could pick him up as he stood from his chair. Knuckles walked ahead, opening the door for the hedgehog.
Amy smiled at them before turning back to the other mobians, specifically Ranger and Quinn, “We're gonna have a talk.” She decided, her smile dropping into a glare.
Silver could feel a shiver go down his spine at the sight.
He's just glad her anger isn't directed at him.
#surprise; sonic's not one of the big sibs#i got this so long ago i'm so sorry ajdjdnsj#sonic the hedgehog#miles tails prower#sth#tails the fox#sonic#amy rose#knuckles the echidna#silver the hedgehog#brain and brawn#pinky lemonade#futuristics#sonic forces#myydrabs#drabble#anon#myyanswers
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okay, just gonna say this now before i start this post: i have absolutely no problems with alternate universes, go ham with them, go wild, you can have fun, etcetc, they're called alternate universes for a reason, after all
however. HOWEVER.
i have a problem when people say something should have happened in canon, when canon itself disproves or goes against whatever these people want
the reason why im bringing this up?
the whole thing with how some people keep saying mirabel should have [insert the usual things people say here, hate, slap, punch, left, get revenge, etc, take your pick, there's unfortunately a lot to choose from] the family. in the canon movie.
again, i have no problem with alternate universes and seeing them in fanfics or whatever, you do you, could be interesting to see even
but when you start saying this should have happened in canon, its just. no. no.
god, it just frustrates me so much whenever i see these posts and comments, the ones that said she should have gone evil or villain or hate the family and all that stuff
because mirabel herself loves her family. she literally said it outright in the movie!!! its not in her personality and character to just go against them and hate them and want revenge. there will be hurt and hesitance and some resentment after everything she'd gone through, yes, but outright hate to the point where she'll hurt them?? absolutely not.
not with her character, her love and empathy and understanding, the traits we see her show in the movie.
like my friend once said: mirabel "he loved this family. i love this family. we all love this family" would NEVER hurt her family
say it louder for the people at the back!!
and thats not all i want to rant about tbh...the real kicker on this one?
whenever this statement is added on top of it all: "if i were mirabel—"
well, news flash people who keep saying these things, mirabel isnt you. mirabel is her own character who has her own experiences and her own feelings. maybe you'll be able to relate to her, especially with similar experiences, but that doesn't mean you can just copy and paste your own feelings onto her and say this is what she should have done in canon because thats what i would have done!!
we all project onto our favorite characters in various ways, which is completely fine, go at it and definitely not surprising for a story about family issues, but when you start to project so much that you throw away the character's actual personality and characterization in favor of said projection? yeah...no.
thats not mirabel madrigal anymore, that's a completely new character...or dare i say, a self-insert for some people... 💀:////
yeah, im just so frustrated with this AAAAAAA 😭
but anyway yes.
thats it, really. again, AUs are absolutely fine but if someone starts yapping about how canon should have [insert whatever those people keep saying here] instead while disregarding actual canon and proper characters and personalities, im going to become violent
anywho...thats my thoughts on this, went on a bit of a tangent but
yeah
anyway bye—
#encanto#mirabel madrigal#kept going through some comments and posts in the past and i felt violent#and decided to rant#uhhhh hope this makes sense#and that im not being insane or something#but yeah#whoop—#overthinking and doubting again but#i will prevail aaaaaaaaaaaaa#but anyway yes#this is all for the people who had comments on how “canon should have ended like this!!!”#im so done with them pls
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SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE ONES IN THE BACK
I can’t believe people are getting mad at him for saying that as if it’s not the most Misha coded thing ever
#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#destiel#spn#the cw#the cw network#homophobia ruins everything
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒, 𝑒𝓈𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜 1
｡𖦹°‧ pairing ｡𖦹°‧ - idol!yeonjun x superstar!oc x idol!jungkook
｡𖦹°‧ synopsis ｡𖦹°‧ - a love triangle between Hollywood’s sweetheart, Korea’s golden maknae, and Gen Z’s IT boy. Estrella is a very busy woman never had time dating with all her photoshoots, movie offers, recording sessions, dance practices, and public appearances. As she’s doing a little world tour promotions for her latest mini album ‘You & Me’, and let’s just say that stop last a little longer and it becomes a little too interesting.
Italics = korean
“We are so happy you stopped by in Australia to promote your new album called ‘You & Me’ out now! Thank you again and what’s next? Where are you heading to next?” The kind morning talk host asked Estrella. “Um…it’s a secret.” Fans in the studio whined wanting to hear new info. “I know! I want to say what’s next, but all Megan is allowing me to say that it’s worth the wait and there will be many opportunities to see me. So don’t miss me too much starrys~” Estrella had a cute pouting face, making starrys cheer even louder. “And to where I’m heading next is Seoul, South Korea. I didn’t think I had such a big fan base over there, but I’m so grateful that they love me so much and want me to promote over there and experience their culture. I’m excited.” Estrella smiled at the thought of experiencing another culture and trying new food along with meeting new people.
“That’s beautiful and I hope you continue having an amazing time during this mini promotion tour. Once again please listen to Estrella’s new album ‘You & Me’! And don’t go any where Estrella will also be performing her title track ‘Eleven’ after this commercial break.” Estrella was mimicking the talk host’s action making the audience laugh, but was all light hearted because once the talk host took notice Estrella giggles and pulls her into a hug. “We’ll be right back!” Estrella finished the monologue for the talk host.
Estrella’s makeup staff member quickly made her way onto the stage to do some touch ups. “Sana-chan~” Estrella jokingly gasped, making Sana chuckle at Estrella’s cute characteristics. “She must be a sweetheart to work with.” The female talk host compliments. “She is, but she can be a bit mischievous at times and that’s when you have to be careful.” Sana has many stories of Estrella pranking her with “accidentally” messing up her makeup, or when Sana gets close to Estrella’s face while doing her makeup and Estrella would try and kiss her.
Luckily, Estrella stood still for her touch ups and fixing her outfit before getting into position to start her performance. “Let me retuck your hair real quick,” Sana gently pulls Estrella’s under the white flower chocker (hair like in the photo). “Kill the stage.” Sana whispers, before running to stand next to starrys so she can get the perfect view. The second the lights tone down and shine on Estrella and her dancers the audience went crazy.
ೃᰰ࿔eleven (sorry the audio is bad the person that made the video said the artist of the original song was singing live and the person tried their best to blend ive’s ver and original ver together)
ೃᰰ࿔choreography
The room was filled with fanchants which made Estella smile while singing. Also seeing her lightsticks being waved around excitedly shows how many people came and took time out of their day for support her. Just as the song came to an end Estrella made sure to blow kisses at everyone, as her ending pose.
To many people it’s still weird that a non Kpop artist does and has everything an Kpop artist does, but something about Estrella just fits it so well. Maybe because she was trained like one without all the ridiculous harsh criticism instead was given constructive criticism, and actually helped her work on it. She was taught about fanservice, having fanchants, how important photocards and lightsticks are, always being thankful for your fans who got you where you are today. Estrella didn’t much help with any of those because it just came to her like a second nature; she made the fanchants and posted it on her twitter, she made sure to practice taking selfies for her future pcs, the second Megan mention making a lightstick Estrella already drew it with the thought of how pretty it will look in pictures and with starrys waving it around, and ever since the beginning Estrella was thankful of her fans even if it was just one she would give them a massive hug and express how appreciative she is with just knowing her name.
As Estrella was the last segment in the show she was able to wave ‘bye’ to all her starrys that were in the studio. Estrella was making sure to look at each and every one remembering their faces and all the small details. “Estrella could you sign this?!” A fan holds up a recent magazine cover Estrella did. “Of course!” Estrella runs to the fans making everyone around scream with how close she is to them. “What’s your name?” Estrella looks right into the fan’s eyes. “P-Priscilla.” Poor Priscilla was captivated by Estrella’s big doe eyes causing her to stutter her name. “What a pretty name~” Estrella still holding eye contact smiles while signing and gives back and now signed magazine. “I’ll make sure to come back to Sydney, bye starrys!”
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
“Another one down and one more to go.” Megan crosses off the list in her IPad Pro. The crew was currently driving back to their hotel finally being able to relax a bit before their flight the next day to Seoul. “Make sure you write down Australia for a tour stop, please.” Estrella drags out the word ‘please’, making Megan open the tour stop list. “Estrella you practically have the world map on your tour stop list already.” Megan snicker. “Good that means starrys all over the world will have a chance to see me.” Estrella looks out at the window, daydreaming about how her tour is going to look like fill with starrys and their lightstick singing and dancing– “Nuh-uh, don’t start planning the tour already missy. You still need to take a break from working so much before you burn yourself out.” Daya who is now Estrella’s assistant manager, scolds Estrella from the passenger seat erupting her daydreaming.
“Yeah after during some promotional work in Seoul let’s take a mini vacation there–oh! We can also go to Japan and I can show you guys what I grew up with. Plus don’t you love Pokémon mine chīsana hoshi?” Sana was trying to convince Estrella. “I do! Let’s do it.” Estrella’s eyes sparkle at the thought of purchasing all the little cute Pokémon plushies plus the thought of all the cute theme cafes they can go to. “Let’s just rest before planning something else.” Megan couldn’t handle booking more plane tickets and hotel rooms. The migraine was slow seeping through again.
Once everyone showered and all went to rest in their respective rooms for a good amount of time, Megan texted the group chat to meet in her room to give a little run down the schedule in Korea Estrella has. To no one’s surprise both Estrella and Sana walked in with their matching Chiikawa pajamas and matching Sanrio headbands. “Oh was I erupting something important?” Megan holds in her laughter, as she sees not only the matching pieces but they both had a pink skincare face masks on. “No. Not at all.” Estrella innocently answered. “Ah Estrella never loose your bright spirit.” Daya and the rest of the team love how oblivious Estrella could be. They just want to protect her from the world.
“Ok moving on,” Megan cleared her throat. “So once we land we go straight to our hotel rooms and immediately start getting Estrella ready for her interview with very popular television personality, Yoo Jaesuk. Have you been studying more Korean?” Megan looks up at Estrella. She hums ‘yes’, “hi, I’m Estrella Blue and please take care of me.” Everyone clapped. “That was good, and don’t worry you will still have an ear-in so they can translate for you. Next we have music bank promotions only for a week to test out the waters. During that time you can do tiktok dance challenges with some idols, and speaking of tiktok challenges we have this company called Hybe which is the home to many big artists originally know for groups like BTS and Tomorrow x Together. Who want to show you around the building and film again tiktok dance challenges with their artists including showing you around the company. The next one is the ‘You & Me pop up shop.”
“Wait! They aren’t trying to recruit her right?” Daya rises an eyebrow towards Megan. “Hell no! What they emailed me and talked through the phone is wanting to film a little video showing Estrella around that’s it.”
“Good just making sure.” Daya nods. “Then finally attending some Seoul fashion show/parties and that’s it.” Megan sighs, finishing reading the schedule. “I hope I do well guys.” Estrella was stressing a bit about the language barrier and all the new mannerisms she had to learn to make sure not to offend the people of there. “Hey, you got this mine chīsana hoshi.” Sana wraps her arms around Estrella’s shoulder hugging her. “Plus you have a large group of fans waiting for you there already ready to support and cheer you on.” Sana gives some comforting words, hopefully bringing Estrella spirits up. “Yeah, don’t stress Estrella.” Daya affectionately pets Estrella’s head. “Trust me our precious star we will always be by your side. And when things get too much just signal to us, and we’ll be there.” Megan takes a hold of Estrella’s hand gently caressing her knuckles. “Thanks guys.” Estrella pouts, feeling emotional with all the love they are giving her.
⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒
Waking up at the crack ass of dawn, going to the airport and checking in, finally flying then landing. The whole team were like zombies coming out of plane dragging their feet following everyone out. Estrella’s security got close to the team, as they were getting closer to the door leading out to the main airport lobby. “Wait! Before went enter chaos. Let me fix your outfit.” Sana quickly stopped Estella was moving to fix tiny details. “Ok,” Sana sighs. “You’re perfect.” Estrella snickers at Sana. “Thank you~” Estella sings.
The second those double doors slide open bright lights start flashing and the yelling starts. “Oh my god.” Estrella really underestimated the popularity she holds in Korea. Just as Estrella was going to start walking the Korean press was telling her stop and pose for them. “Just give a couple of cute poses.” Megan whispers before getting out of the shot.
“Estrella over here!”
“Heartu heartu Estrella!”
Estrella was trying to do all the heart poses she remembers. Some fans were showing her which ones to do. “Ok that’s enough we have to get going, thank you.” Megan announces to the reporters. Security immediately goes back to Estrella’s side and start their walk out of the Incheon airport. Estrella is surprise with all the phones and cameras that were filming every second of the walk along with fans trying to hand her letters and gifts. “Oh, thank you.” Estrella smiles, and took the gifts. Some fans were trying to get Estrella to complete their hearts which she gladly completed them. What really took the Korean fans’ hearts were when Estrella was saying ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ in Korean as well as giving small bows at them. The team safely made it to their car and Estrella rolled down the window to wave ‘bye’ at everyone who were still filming and yelling encouraging words at her.
“I will enjoy m-my time…”
Estella quickly asks for help, as she forgot some words. “Here in Korea.” Megan quickly helps her. “Here in Korea, thank you.”
“See nothing to worry about.” Daya hands over some more fan letters that Estella missed. “Thanks, and I guess not.” Estrella said, as she looks back at everyone that was waiting for her getting smaller and smaller. “Wow~ they work fast look-” Sana shows everyone the newly posted article of ‘Estrella Blue landing in Korea!’ Megan takes Sana’s phone and starts reading, “The mega superstar Estrella Blue finally lands in Seoul, South Korea and immediately shows her beautiful visuals and amazing fanservice. A born to be artist who has the talent, fashion, and goddess like visuals.”
“Goddess like visuals?!” Estrella is shock at all the high compliments they are giving her. “They also say your Korean sounds so cute and might be a new trend.” Megan adds. “I sound like a baby though.” Estrella chuckles, while looking at all the buildings and people that they were passing by. “Korea will definitely be interesting.” Sana has a feeling Korea might not go the way they thought it will, but in a good way.
#txt scenarios#txt scenario#txt imagines#txt yeonjun#yeonjun scenarios#yeonjun x oc#yeonjun fanfic#yeonjun imagines#bts scenario#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook imagine#jungkook x oc#jungkook scenarios#jungkook scenario
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Just an FYI to the avid Rhysand/IC stans: It is completely possible for a bad person to good things, and a good person to do bad things. It's possible for someone to be a victim of abuse, and an abuser themselves. "Rhysand suffered for his people and deserves all the love" or "Rhysand has a need for control because of his trauma utm," is unbelievable.
Yes, I will acknowledge Rhysand is a victim of SA. I will acknowledge that he had good intentions when protecting Velaris, saving Mor, and fighting Hybern in two wars. However, being a victim doesn't excuse your actions when you abuse others. Under no circumstances does his trauma excuse not telling Feyre about the risk to her life with her pregnancy, or threatening to kill Nesta for no real reason honestly.
You could argue that he had good intentions and didn't want to cause Feyre any stress, just like he had good intentions when stealing Tarquin's book (that he never gave back), or protecting only one third of his court (assuming that the NC is comprised of Velaris, The HC, and Illyria exclusively,) and perhaps he even had good intentions when he tried to make that bargain with Feyre (I seriously doubt it though). However, bad consequences to bad actions that have good intentions DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT make those bad actions okay.
No matter how good Rhysand's intentions were in hiding Velaris, people in Illyrian and the HC suffered under Amarantha's reign. No matter how good his intentions were, Nesta was stuck with her toxic, abusive, stalker in the HOW along with a coward who stood by and watched her get abuse against her will until she was mentally broken. No matter how good his intentions, people still got hurt. People still died.
The families of the murdered children probably don't care what his intentions are. I sincerely doubt the people of HC or Illyria care how good his intentions are. It doesn't matter how good his intentions were when he met with the mortal queens, because Nesta and Elain still got hurt, practically murdered, and put back together again before being forced into a life they didn't want. Lucien clearly didn't care about his intentions when he was brought to The NC. He only backed down when he was threatened.
So I'll say this one more time. Louder for the people in the back: GOOD INTENTIONS DON'T MAKE THE BAD CONSEQUENCES INCONSEQUENTIAL ALL OF A SUDDEN!
#nesta deserves better#nesta archeron deserves better#lucien deserves better#anti sjm#anti inner circle#pro nesta#anti acosf#pro nesta archeron#nesta acotar#anti mor#anti amren#anti ic#anti rhysand#anti cassian#the archeron sisters deserve better#Sjm needs to learn how consequences work#Cause something's telling me she just doesn't get it.
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please. (LS2 x OP81)
logan finally has to confront his deepest want.
part 3 of "changed"
part 2
w/c: 968
day 33/34 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium!!!(series masterlist)
masterlist
tw: swearing
You are a disappointment.
People don’t like you.
You’re an outcast.
Failure.
Logan suppresses everything he’s feeling right now: anger, rage, regret, sadness, guilt. Everything bottled up in his heart.
Pathetic.
His eyes shut tightly, but everything is clearer than crystal. All of it. Every lasting second of it feels like another shot in the heart. Every striking minute feels like salt poured into the wound. Every memory feels like a twisting dagger.
Logan starts sobbing more violently, bringing his knees up and burying his head in them. His sobs echo around the room, bouncing off the walls and back into his ears.
Worthless.
Logan whispers repeatedly, doing everything to get his thoughts away. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
His door opens.
Shit.
“Yo, Logs, I’m heading-” Alex’s voice is heard.
Logan keeps his head buried, he’s not going to let Alex see him like this.
As if this couldn’t get any worse, he hears Lando in the background. Some muffled voices but he’s with Alex.
“Mate, are you alright?” Alex’s voice softens.
Then he hears footsteps. Alex is walking closer to him, he keeps his head buried tightly, his knees press hard against his head.
Alex’s hand touches Logan’s back, which makes him flinch. He shuts his eyes tightly and breathes.
“You said this would take a few seco-” Lando’s voice can be heard, “Oh.”
Logan continues to keep his head down as Alex sits down next to him.
“Logan?”
Oscar? It’s Oscar’s voice.
Logan can feel more tears brimming, but he continues to silence his sobs.
More footsteps can be heard entering his room, the door closing afterward. Logan doesn’t react.
“You good?” Lando kneels down in front of Logan.
Logan remains stoned in his position. How’s he going to respond, what will he even say? A tear escapes his eye and drops onto the bench cushion, Logan feels a sting in his throat.
He doesn’t know where exactly Oscar is in the room right now, but he just hopes Oscar leaves soon. He cannot let Oscar see him like this, let alone let Oscar know that Logan has been crying about him.
He shuts his eyes and hopes they all leave soon.
“Logan.” Oscar says and Logan almost feels like breaking down into tears.
A few seconds of silence follows and he feels a weight lift off the cushion. Then footsteps, then the door opening, then the door closing.
“Logan.” Oscar’s repeats, “It’s just me now.”
That does not make Logan feel any better. Logan hates this. He wants to see Oscar but not like this.
Oscar clears his throat and slides Logan’s phone under his knees so he sees it. His fatal mistake.
“You’re crying about me.” Oscar deapans.
Straightforward as usual.
Now what? You’re pathetic Logan. You suck Logan.
More thoughts fog up his head. Possible outcomes, all of them are bad.
Oscar laughs at Logan and leaves.
Oscar makes fun of Logan and calls him a sad pathetic loser.
Oscar’s hand stroking Logan’s back almost makes him flinch violently but he resists doing so.
Oscar’s hand continues stroking up and down.
Maybe Oscar would tell everyone and embarrass him.
Oscar calls him pathetic.
“I won’t talk about it if you don’t want me to.” Oscar’s voice is soft, like when Oscar used to talk to Logan.
Is he mocking Logan?
This has got to be a joke, some sick joke. He’s probably being filmed right now.
Logan finally shakes his head. He hates his thoughts right now, they all press down on the back of his head, stopping him from lifting it up and just looking at Oscar.
“Logan, will you please… look at me.” Oscar pleads, his voice growing with concern, “I just want to see that you’re okay.”
No. NO. NO.
The voices resound louder in Logan’s head.
“Logan please.” Oscar’s voice pleads even more.
“Just for a while.” Oscar continues.
NO.
He wants to lift his head up, look at Oscar. Everything else doesn’t want him to. His mind fills up with every single bad outcome possible, all the dreaded thoughts pull him deeper into the abyss.
Logan shakes his head again.
“Just leave me alone.” Logan says, holding back his sobs.
Oscar’s hand leaves Logan’s back and it feels empty now.
Logan feels like slamming his head against a wall. What the hell is wrong with him?
“Logan, I just want to-”
And then, just as if some external force takes over his body, he shouts, “PLEASE. JUST LEAVE.”
A small gasp escapes Oscar’s mouth and he gets up, leaving the room.
FUCK FUCK FUCK
Logan breaks down. He doesn’t hide the sobs anymore, he cries. The tears flow down his cheeks.
What was he thinking?
Pathetic.
Failure.
Worthless.
Of course he fucked up, what was new? Logan Sargeant, the man of all mistakes, the mistake of all mistakes.
He punches the cushion again.
Logan just wishes he was better in everything he did. Then maybe he wouldn’t be such a disappointment. People would stop worrying so much about if he made it out alive. Everything would be so much easier.
You deserve every failure you have.
You were the problem.
You failed.
-------
A few minutes, maybe hours, pass and Logan can feel the dried up marks of tears on his face, staining his cheeks. His eyes are puffy red and his throat stings from sobbing.
He just imagines how Oscar is having fun with Lando and Alex right now, enjoying life and forgetting about Logan.
Nothing new. Mr Unmemorable. Mr Forgettable.
He wipes whatever tears can be wiped off and gets up, slotting his phone into his pocket. He straightens out his clothes and takes a deep breath, walking toward his door.
It’s late already, everyone’s probably left.
He opens the door and walks out.
“Logan-”
#f1#formula one#formula 1#f1 fandom#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#not beta read#loscar post#loscar#op81#ls2#williams racing#logan sargeant#oscar piastri#williams f1#loscar angst#angst#f1 angst#loscar fics#ls2 x op81#mclaren#mclaren f1#mclaren racing#op81 angst#ls2 angst#hurt/no comfort#alexander albon#lando norris
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did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days
A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.
Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.
He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.
Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.
Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.
Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.
That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.
The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.
The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.
He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.
Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.
He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.
He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.
He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.
Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.
One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.
He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.
His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.
Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.
His eyes fall open again.
“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.
“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.
“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”
“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.
She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.
He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.
Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.
Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.
“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”
“Mom I’m not alone anymore”
Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.
The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.
He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.
The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.
Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.
“GHOST!”
“Mom? Save me.”
“Ghost who’s with you right now.”
He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.
In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”
“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”
“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”
With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.
“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.
He hoped he was happy.
-
Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.
Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.
#fanfic#ghoap#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#soapghost#ao3#cod mw2#call of duty#ao3 crosspost#kate laswell#agnst#heavy angst#main character death#don’t like don’t read
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Hi bestie! I was wondering if you considered writing a sequel to “Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too” where Emily meets her parents somewhere by accident and they find out she has kids? It would be interesting to see their reaction 🙂
hiii bestie <3
love this. It always means so much when people want to see more from a little universe I've created. This very quickly turned into a two parter, and part 2 will be up later in the week!
-x-
Some Things Are Meant to Be
She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in two decades staring right back at her.
A sequel to Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too
Part 1/2
-x-
Words: 2.8k
Warnings: estranged parents
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
October 2013
Emily smiles, her face pressed into her husband’s pillow, as she hears the thundering footsteps of her youngest daughter in the hallway.
She knew what her family were up to. Aaron had woken her up as he snuck out of bed, whispering Happy Birthday against her hairline before he told her to go back to sleep. She’d wrapped her arms around his pillow and settled deeper into the mattress, but she didn’t get any more sleep. Instead, she’d laid there, content and relaxed as she listened to her husband and their daughters make breakfast for her, their attempts to whisper and keep quiet pointless, their home a place that was always loud and busy.
She loved it. Loved the happiness that permeated everything, the gentle chaos that came with raising three girls with the man she loved. It was so normal to her, so beautifully ordinary, that her life before them seemed like it happened to somebody else. That it hadn’t been her who had sat in front of her parents just shy of her 23rd birthday and been forced to choose between the life they wanted for her and the one she was living.
It had been 20 years and she hadn’t regretted it for a moment. Hadn’t had one second where she thought she’d made the wrong decision by walking away from them. Even if things hadn’t worked out with Aaron, if their relationship had fizzled out or collapsed around them, she knew that she wouldn’t have regretted it. Her life would have been her own either way, no longer weighed down by expectations she never would have been able to live up to.
She closes her eyes just before the bedroom door opens, pretending to be asleep as Mae loudly sneaks into the room. The 5-year-old clambers onto the bed, landing on Emily as she sits next to her, her tiny hands pressing into her mother’s face.
“Mommy,” Mae stage whispers, louder than she usually was, “Wake up, Mommy.”
Emily makes a show of opening her eyes and yawning, smiling as her eyes meet those of her daughter, smiling as she pulls her little girl into a hug, Mae’s giggle lost against her chest.
“Morning, baby,” she says, pressing several kisses in a row to Mae’s head, revelling in the way her youngest still let her love on her this way. Evelyn was beyond it now, claiming at the grand old age of 14 that she was a grown-up, and Hazel was getting there, testing the boundaries of her independence for the first time since she’d turned 10 just a few months ago.
Emily loved that her girls were independent, that she and Aaron had raised them to be fierce and confident, but she missed when they needed her more than they did now. The long days of early motherhood that seemed to endlessly drag on at the time now behind her. She felt like she constantly went from being proud of who her daughters were becoming to missing when the only place they’d sleep was in her arms.
Becoming a mother had only made her more angry at her own, somehow even more frustrated at her parents for cutting her off for nothing more than falling in love with a man they thought they were above. She knew, no matter what, that she and Aaron would always make sure their children were loved and that they knew they were.
They’d never have to doubt it like she had.
“Happy Birthday, Mommy,” Mae says, tilting her head back to look up at her, her smile wide as their eyes meet.
Emily runs her fingers through her dark hair, smiling as Mae leans into it, “Thank you,” she says, “Are they making breakfast down there?”
Mae nods, “Daddy says they’ll bring it up to you.”
She hums contentedly and pulls Mae closer, “In that case, we can just sit here and snuggle until they are finished.”
“Love you, Mommy,” Mae says, pressing her face into her neck, her fingers tracing the chain of Emily’s necklace.
Emily rests her cheek on top of Mae’s head and sighs contentedly, “Love you too, sweet girl.”
___
June 1992
At first, she isn’t sure what’s woken her up.
She rolls onto her back, yawning as she stretches, the delicious ache in her muscles making her sigh contentedly. She turns her head and smiles when she sees Aaron is still asleep, his mouth slack and his arm heavy across her waist. In the few months they’d been seeing each other she’d rarely woken up before him, so she takes a moment to look at him, to study his features whilst he’s entirely relaxed.
She’s just about to reach out to press her thumb into the space between his eyebrows, the place where they usually creased together, when a knock at the door makes her jump, followed by the door handle rattling.
“Emily? Why is the door locked?” Elizabeth asks, her irritation clear even through the heavy wood.
“Fuck,” Emily mutters, her hand on Aaron’s shoulder as she shakes it, dragging him from sleep as she stands up, clamouring for her robe so she can cover herself, “Aaron, wake up.”
“What?” He asks, blinking against the light in the room, his brain not quite catching up with why he was awake.
“You need to get up, my mother is out there” she says, pulling the covers off of him and walking towards the closet before she opens the door, “Get in the closet.”
He frowns, and she’s sure she’d find it adorable if her mother wasn’t seconds away from accidentally finding out about the relationship they’d kept hidden, “What, Emily I’m not-”
“Emily,” Elizabeth says, knocking on the door again, “I know you’re in there and I really need to speak to you.”
Emily looks back at him, her eyes wide, an edge of desperation in them he can’t ignore, “Get in there. Now.”
He sighs and nods, walking over to the closet and pulling the door closed behind him. Emily makes quick work of tidying up the bed, making sure it only looked like one person had been sleeping in it, and she flattens her hair before she walks over to the door. She gives herself a second before she undoes the lock and pulls the door open, hoping that the smile she gives her mother seems genuine.
“Mother, sorry I was about to get into the shower,” she says, leaning on the doorframe, “Is everything okay?”
Elizabeth narrows her eyes and looks past her into the bedroom, her eyebrow raised as she looks back at her daughter, “I just wanted to remind you about tonight.”
Emily frowns, “Tonight?”
“The benefit, Emily. The one I’ve been planning for weeks,” Elizabeth says, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks sternly at her daughter, “Your father and I expect you to be there.”
She sighs and nods, her brain finally catching up with her, “Right. The benefit, of course, I’ll be there.”
Elizabeth hums, “And remember, be nice to Agent Hotchner.”
Emily chokes on a laugh and it takes all of her self control to not turn and look at the closet she’d made him stand in, the thin door he was hiding behind nowhere near thick enough to block out her conversation with her mother, “Why…why wouldn’t I be nice to him?”
“You’re never nice to the security staff,” Elizabeth quips, her eyebrow raised, “And it’s his first one of these he’s working so I’d rather not have you scare someone else off,” she says, “I don’t have the time to find a replacement.”
She has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing and she nods as she clears her throat, “I’ll be extra nice to him,” she says, fighting a smile, “I promise.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to get going. We’ve got plenty to get done before this evening,” Elizabeth says, turning to leave before she pauses, casting one last look back at her daughter, “And please try to run a brush through your hair before this evening, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.”
Emily scoffs as she places her hands on her hair again, trying to flatten it as her mother walks away. She blows out a breath as she steps back into her bedroom, locking the door behind her again before she rests her head against it.
“Can I come out now?”
She screws her eyes shut and hides a wince, embarrassment at her reaction to hide him coursing through her as she replies, “Yes.”
For a man who was wearing nothing but the boxers he’d shoved on as he scrambled out of bed, he walks out of the closet with a type of confidence that makes her stomach flip, “That was an interesting way to start the day.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, pushing herself off of the door and walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him, smiling bashfully as she looks up at him, “I just didn’t want her to find out about us because she found you naked in my bed.”
He hums as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her so they are chest to chest as he stamps a kiss against her lips. With anyone else, he’s sure he’d feel offended that she’d thrown him out of bed and hidden him, but he knows her relationship with her parents is complicated. He’d seen it first hand, had witnessed the struggle between reality and expectation and both sides, and he knew she liked to keep as much of her life separate from them as possible.
It was one of the reasons they’d ended up together in the first place. She never invited any of her friends over, forcing herself to be somewhat of a lonely figure, nothing like the fun, intelligent 21-year-old he knew her to be. Her summer at home between her undergrad and masters had started with her isolating herself, eventually becoming so bored she’d started to hang out with him. A permanent, and entirely welcome, distraction as he tried to work. It felt inevitable when they kissed, a press of her lips against his one night after they shared a drink and sad, surface-level, stories about their childhoods.
Aaron knew he’d remain a secret of hers forever if that’s what she wanted, no matter how impractical that would be.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again, “Although, if we really are going to make a go of this, they are going to have to find out at some point.”
She groans as she rests her forehead against his shoulder, “I know,” she mutters, pressing a kiss to his bare skin, the action turning into a smile when he shivers, “But not yet.”
He hooks a finger under her chin and makes him look up at her, “Not yet,” he agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth, smiling when she turns her head to capture his lips in a proper kiss. He can still feel the tension in her shoulders, the anxiety only her parents could cause, and he wants to get rid of it, wants to give her the slow peaceful morning they’d intended to have. “I seem to remember overhearing you saying you were going to be extra nice to me.”
She smiles devilishly and leads him back to the bed, encouraging him to sit down before she straddles his lap, his hands never leaving her hips. She undoes the robe she’s wearing and lets it fall open before she leans forward, pausing just before her lips touch his.
“I’ll show you just how nice I can be.”
___
“Mom,” Evelyn hisses as she makes it to her side, her eyes darting around to see if any of her friends have seen her, “You didn’t have to meet me right outside,” she says, adjusting her book bag over her shoulder, “Everyone else’s parents are meeting them in the parking lot.”
Emily chuckles and walks alongside her daughter, “Evie, I had to park at Union Station, there’s no way I’m letting you walk there by yourself,” she says, smiling as the teenager rolls her eyes at her, “Besides, you should be grateful it’s me who came to pick you up. Your Dad wanted to get a picture of you outside the Capitol Building.”
Evelyn shudders at the thought of it, as if she can’t think of anything worse than posing for a photo for her parents, “Why?”
“Because we’re proud of you,” she says, “It’s not every day your kid gets invited to the Student Government Conference.”
The irony of Evelyn’s aptitude for and love of politics was not lost on Emily. She’d joined the Student Government in middle school and loved it, and she’d been part of one ever since. She found it fascinating, the ins and outs of the laws and how they were made one of her favourite things to learn.
Emily often thought that her daughter was the child her mother had always wanted in some ways. Evelyn was just like Emily - she was opinionated, wilful and stubborn, but she was also empathetic and kind and just a little bit wild. They were all traits Elizabeth had hated in Emily, things she’d desperately tried to fix that Emily hadn’t seen the beauty in herself until she saw them in her own daughters, but she thinks her mother would have been a lot more forgiving of them if she’d had the interests that Evelyn did. If they’d shared a love for the politics that had actually been a wedge between them, a gap neither one of them could, or would, cross.
“It’s not that big a deal.”
Emily comes to a stop and places her hand on Evelyn’s arm, squeezing gently before she lets go, “Yes, sweetie, it is. We’re very proud of you.”
Evelyn fights a smile and crosses her arms over her chest, “Thank you, Mom” she replies, looking around to make sure none of her friends have overheard her before she carries on walking, “Do you think that pride will get me pizza tonight?”
Emily laughs and nods, “I think your dad will let you-”
“Emily?”
She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in 20 years staring right back at her. She stands frozen for a moment, stuck between her past and her present, before she feels a hand on her arm.
“Mom?” Evelyn says, her dark eyes full of concern as Emily looks at her, “Are you okay?”
Emily hears how the woman standing in front of them gasps quietly as Evelyn calls her mom, and she nods and digs her keys out of her pocket, grateful that they are now close enough to the car that she could see it, “I’m fine, go get in the car, honey.”
Evelyn frowns, looking back and forth between her mother and the familiar looking stranger in front of them, “Mom, what’s-”
“The car, Evelyn,” Emily says, harsher than she means to, something that only registers as hurt flashes across her daughter's face. She sighs and tucks some of Evelyn’s hair behind her ear, “Please,” she says, her voice softer now, “Go get in the car and I’ll come to meet you in a minute.”
Evelyn flicks her eyes between the two women again before she nods, taking the keys from Emily, flashing a tight smile at her before she turns away, “See you in a minute.”
Emily watches her go, her eyes fixed on her daughter’s retreating figure, not taking her eyes off of her before she sees her climb into the front passenger seat of the car. It’s only then that Emily turns to look at the woman in front of her, still rooted to the spot.
She looks the same bar a few lines around her eyes. As if two decades hadn’t passed since they’d last seen each other. She clears her throat and clasps her hands in front of her, her fingers automatically curling around her wedding rings, Aaron’s love pressing from the cool metal into her skin.
When she speaks, she’s proud that her voice doesn’t shake, that she doesn’t give any indication of the war waging within her.
“Hello, Mother.”
-x-
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STWG prompt: Buzz cut/shaved head
Summary: an AU where Eddie Munson is the one to find Eleven in the woods in 1983
wc: 830
Eddie feels his hands sweat.
“You can, uh, make yourself at home,” he says, gesturing to his cluttered mess of a room. “Mi casa es su casa and all that.”
The girl blinks, not a whiff of understanding crossing her face. She looks be around ten years old but he’s never been good with ages, especially for kids. She’s young and terrified, that much he is sure of.
“Do you want something to drink? Water?”
She nods and immediately curls onto herself. Eddie isn’t sure leaving her all alone in his room is a good idea but he doesn’t think there’s a set of rules to follow here. It’s not every day that he finds a scared child out in the woods, dressed only in a hospital gown, not even any shoes on. All he knows is that the look the kid wears on her face, the one she so desperately trying to mask, he recognizes all too well, has seen it in the mirror when Wayne first took him in five years ago.
He goes into the kitchen, eyes flickering to his bedroom all the time. It has never taken so long to fill a glass full of water but here he is, by the sink, counting away every second. His eyes linger on the phone. He should call the police, he knows that, but he doesn’t even know what to say.
She’s stood up from the bed by the time he returns, maybe finally taking his words to heart. That’s until the floor squeaks and her shoulders tense, and there’s a glare thrown his way yet again.
“Sorry. Just – here,” he offers her the glass and she takes it after a second, a huge goblet in a tiny hand looking terribly out of place. The kid turns back towards whatever peaked her interest while he was away. Eddie peers from behind her, not daring to come closer and spooking her further.
She’s looking at a photo. It’s an old one, taken right after he moved into the trailer. Wayne still had a full head of hair, not that it mattered because there’s a baseball cap hiding it all away. He has his arm swung loosely over Eddie’s tiny frame. But it’s not this that grabs the girl’s attention, Eddie thinks.
“My father shaved it,” he supplies with a waver to his voice that always comes whenever the man is involved. Young pimpled Eddie with a buzz cut peers back at him from the photo and both him and the kid can’t look away.
“Papa,” the girl finally says, barely anything louder than a whisper. It’s the first time she spoke as far as he knows.
“Did your father do this to you, too?” Eddie asks, trying to keep his voice as even and gentle as possible even though there’s a storm raging inside him.
“Bad men,” she informs him, not quite what he expected, but he’s finally getting somewhere, he thinks. She taps Wayne on the picture. “Bad men.”
“Oh!” Eddie swallows. “No, no, no. Wayne’s my uncle. He’s a good person. Kind.”
The girl looks confused, as if unfamiliar with the word. Maybe she is. Jesus Christ.
“He can help you. We can help you,” he insists, checking his tone immediately because the last thing he wants is to spook her when she’s finally opening up. “What’s your name?”
Eddie didn’t anticipate that a question this simple would be so problematic, but the girl clamps up, looks anywhere but at him. Her grip on the glass tightens and it’s only now that he notices a tattoo on her thin wrist. The number 011.
The sound of tires against gravel makes them both jump.
“Bad men,” the girl says again, eyes wide with fear.
“No, no. I’m sure it’s just a neighbor. Let me-“ and he sprints to the front of the trailer. Wayne’s not bound to be home until morning but it’s not unusual for a car to drive up at this time of night. Carl Sampson often comes back from his drunken adventures right around now.
But as Eddie peers from between blinds, he doesn’t recognize the car at all. It’s too expensive, too clean to be owned by someone living in the trailer park. The people that come out don’t seem familiar either. His heart stutters when he sees guns glint in the moonlight.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He thinks about the girl in his room. A part of him, a cowardly part of him, thinks about turning her in, his survival instinct kicking in, but he catches himself – what is he even thinking? This is a child. He runs back into the bedroom. The child is looking at him, looking as lost as he feels. He shudders a breath. “Bad men.”
She nods, as simple as that. Eddie’s eyes roam around the room in rushed panic.
They just about hid her in the wardrobe when Eddie hears a knock on the door.
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inspired by A Second Life by Die_Erlkonigin6083
“—lo?”
What?
“—an you hear us?”
Go away.
“The levels are stable. We should see if—”
He can’t move; he’s floating in place with wires attached to him. He can’t breathe; there’s some sort of liquid all around him. He can’t see; the liquid gel substance presses against his eyelids, forcing them shut.
“Process starting in three, two, one!”
What process? Just let him sleep.
“WARNING: SUBJECT F-4N70M DESTABILIZING. PLEASE CHECK ACTIVITY LOG.”
It’s getting warmer. He wants it to get cooler. Why is it getting warmer? He hates it. It only gets warmer when they’re doing tests. People are loudly talking to each other—or is it to him?
Is this another test?
-
He slowly opens his eyes. It is bright, in the way all of the Rooms are, sterilized white the only color on the walls. But there’s blue curtains surrounding the bed he’s in. They never let him have curtains.
Actually, there are a lot of differences between where he is and the Rooms. It’s hard to move, but when he turns his head to the side, it’s not only chairs and machinery that he sees, but there’s also a small table with flowers in a vase, and pillows stacked next to it. There is a tube connected to his nose, and another one leading to his arm. But the discomfort cannot compare to the awe he feels when he looks through the window and sees the darkness outside, speckled with lights.
He can see millions of lights past the window, glowing, tauntingly beyond his reach. It is overwhelming. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
He has to get closer.
Getting his body to move is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He clumsily paws at the tubes until they fall off and in the process tumbles out of his bed, crashing onto the floor. The machinery has gotten louder now, a constant screeching that he ignores as he painstakingly makes his way to the window. He has to slowly drag himself most of the way, but it’s worth it when he props himself against the wall, closer to the lights.
He hasn’t been there for more than a few minutes when someone sits next to him. “Hello,” the person—who was not there when he woke up—says. “What are we looking at?”
Why does the person have to look with him? He was looking at the lights first! “The lights,” he says. It’s quieter than he meant it to be. His voice is hoarse, and it actually hurts him to talk.
Something cool is pressed to his hand. “It’s water,” the person says. He doesn’t look away from the lights as the person sighs. He can’t curl his fingers enough to grab it. A hand presses against his chest, leaning him back into an embrace. Another hovers a few inches in front of his face, blocking his view of the lights.
Angrily, he looks at the other. The person smiles indulgently and uses the blocking hand to then grab the cup of water and raise it to his mouth. While he’s forced to slowly drink, the person says, “We call those lights ‘stars.’ Do you like stars?”
Carefully, he nods his head, a bit of water dribbling down his chin. Stars.
“I do too. Did you know there are other planets out there? My name actually came from one of those planets: my name is Nightwing. Do you have a name?” Nightwing asks slowly, placing the empty cup on the floor and then wiping the wet off his chin.
He also seems disappointed when all he gets in response is a blank stare.
“Okay then, kiddo,” Nightwing says. “Let’s get you back to bed.” The man shifts so that he’s now held against his waist. Then he gets up and they move back towards the bed with the blue curtains. They’re leaving the stars. Why are they leaving the stars? Is it because he didn’t answer? He weakly struggles against Nightwing, a whine leaving his throat. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s okay. You can still see the stars from the bed.”
But it isn’t the same! Frustrated, he tries to bite Nightwing’s shoulder to get him to stop, because even the biggest scientist stopped when he did it, but even that doesn’t work because Nightwing’s stupid black and blue suit is too tough!
“Aw, baby don’t do that. This is special material, you’re just going to hurt your teeth.” Don’t tell him what to do. He stubbornly bites down harder.
The sheets are cool against his skin and Nightwing uses his hand to press against his chin and cheeks in a certain way that loosens the bite enough that he can detach him.
Ignoring the glare directed at his whole being, Nightwing then tidies some previously unnoticed papers on the bedside table and hums a little tune. “You know, if you don’t have a name, then I can name you. What about. . . Babywing? Or . . . Pythagoras?”
“Name?” he asks, unable to have before. “What is. . .?”
He trails off at the end, but Nightwing seems to have understood, frowning for a moment before smiling again. “A name is what people call you. It’s who you are, in a way.”
He doesn’t know what a Pythagoras was, but he does know he doesn’t want to be called that. “‘M not a baby,” he rasps.
Nightwing pauses and looks at him with a smile, probably pleased he was talking. “Well, your charts say you’re seven. So you’re basically a baby. A baby with no name, which I shall now fix by naming you. . . Small Boy!”
“You’re not good at naming,” he informs the adult. He’s forced to drink more water before he continues, unimpressed. “I have a name.”
“Nuh-uh,” says Nightwing. “I would’ve known, Small Boy.”
“Yes, I do.” His throat has gone dry and Nightwing seems to notice as he produces another cup of water out of nowhere and helps him drink again. “They called me Phantom.”
Never to his face. Never when talking to him. But sometimes, they would shorten his label to Phantom when talking to each other, something easier for them to say. To him and to the lab recordings, he was referred to as Subject F-4N70M only. But the thought of Nightwing—the only person to treat him like a person—using his label, a string of letters and numbers. . . it gives him a weird feeling of shame.
Nightwing blinks. “Phantom? That’s. . . a very nice name.”
He shrugs. It’s not like he chose it. “It’s not a normal name,” he mumbles. None of the people in the lab have names like Phantom.
Nightwing sits on the edge of the bed, giving him a gentle look. “Well, I think it’s fine. Nightwing isn’t a very normal name, either. Phantom sounds cool. Like a hero’s name.”
“What is a hero?”
The frown is back again for a second before the gentleness replaces it. “Someone who helps and saves people. My hero name is Nightwing.”
“You’re a hero?” he says in slight wonder. “You saved me. You were the voice I heard.” It makes sense: if anyone fits the label of hero, it would be Nightwing, he thinks.
“You could hear us when you were in stasis? Well, I was the one there, and I am a hero! But hey,” Nightwing quickly adds, “If you want to have a different name then you can! You don’t have to keep the name they gave you.”
“Really?” It is barely above a whisper.
“Really,” Nightwing responds, firmly.
“Can I,” he starts, voice small, “have—there’s this name I—“ He swallows and looks around nervously. Waving Nightwing closer, the hero indulgently leans over. He says it so quietly it might have been a murmur: “Can my name be Danny?”
“Danny?”
He nods. He’s never said that name aloud before; it’s only ever been floating in his mind—in fact, he’s never really said it even in his mind. But he knows, as soon as the name leaves his mouth, that it’s his. “Yeah. Danny, not—not Daniel, Danny.”
Nightwing smiles widely, warmly. “Danny with the bluest eyes,” he coos.
Danny smiles back, shy but undeniably happy. A yawn escapes him, making him a bit surprised. When another one escapes him, Nightwing laughs and says, “Time for bed, I think.”
“I am in a bed already,” Danny says.
“No, like—I mean it’s time to sleep.”
Danny tries not to flinch, although he probably wilts judging by how Nightwing’s face goes a bit worried. “Oh. Where’s the capsule?” he asks, looking around as if he just missed it the first time and it was in a corner he hadn't thought to check.
Nightwing frowns. “Your capsule?”
“Yes. Where else would I sleep?” Danny asks. Nightwing’s face does something complicated. Danny hopes this isn’t when he finally gets upset and angry at him.
#danny’s like seven or smth btw and in an alternate universe#genuinely do not care if anyone adds to this feel free#dc x dp#also really go check out a second life it’s so good#dick seeing his sort of son already flippant about hospitals: yeah i can see it#dick left to get water so of course that’s when danny woke up
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Hello! Can I ask for gallavich + 47? Thank you :)
Hi!! I too am fueled by spite so this was a very fun prompt to fill.
47. ...out of spite
Mickey only hears the conversation by accident.
It’s early. Way too fucking early to be awake, but he’d reached up to grab at Ian’s big warm arm and his fingers had met nothing but cold empty sheets and the jolt of panic he’d felt had been enough to have him stumbling up and out and down the hall.
The panic is receding a bit now, with Ian’s voice floating up the stairs. There’s other noises, too. The coffee maker burbling, dishes clinking, the fridge rattling as it’s opened and closed, but all Mickey is focused on is ian ian ian.
The panic ebbs out to a low grade hum. It never goes away completely. Probably never will.
Mickey sighs, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other one still clutching the stair railing so hard his knuckles are white.
Slowly, the actual words Ian’s saying start to filter through.
“–is that supposed to mean? Of course he’s good for me. He’s the only reason I came back in the first place!”
There’s the sound of someone slurping obnoxiously. Probably Lip drinking his fucking coffee. He always slurps when he drinks coffee. “He’s also the reason you left, so.”
“Fuck off, Lip.”
“Seriously?” Fiona scoffs, faucet squeaking as she shuts off the water, “That’s why you disappeared out of the fucking blue?”
Oh.
Mickey twists his lips. Debates just turning around and going back to sleep. It’s too fucking early for this shit.
“I left for a lot of reasons, okay?”
“Ian. Sweetcheeks. I’m just worried about you. We’re all worried about you–”
“Well, maybe everyone should be more worried about you.”
“Ian!”
“He’s got a point.”
“Who’s fucking side are you on, Lip?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. Jesus.” Another obnoxious slurp. “And keep your fucking voices down, you’re gonna wake up the kids.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Ian snarks, “Liam hasn’t been sleeping very well. Wonder why that is.”
“Ian. Please. I just want what’s best for you.”
“Mickey is what’s best for me.”
“Seriously?” Fiona laughs, and Mickey would probably be more offended if he hadn’t nearly blurted out the same thing.
He swipes at his nose. Shoots a longing glance down the hall behind him, towards his little makeshift nest on the floor made of blankets and pillows that smell like Ian. Shoots a longing glance down the stairs in front of him, towards Ian. He sighs again. Sits on the top step. Tunes back into Fiona’s tirade.
“He’s a thug–”
“–you just got out of jail.”
“He’s a highschool drop-out–”
“–we’re all highschool dropouts.”
“He’s a Milkovich–”
“–oh, because being a Gallagher is so much better?”
“He can barely even stand to touch you–”
“–trust me, he touches me plenty.”
“In private,” Fiona presses, pitching her voice louder over the sound of Lip snorting and nearly choking to death on his coffee. “The moment you guys are around other people he acts like you’re radioactive fucking waste.”
“Jesus, Fi, can you blame him for not wanting people to find out–?”
“But we already know! He knows that we know. And he knows damn well that Gallaghers don’t snitch.”
Mickey gnaws on his lower lip, eagerly awaiting Ian’s snarky comeback.
It never comes.
“Ian, sweetie,” Fiona says, voice soft again, “I’m just worried you’re getting too attached.”
Say something.
“I’m– Ian, I’m sorry, but I think you're reading signs you hope are there, instead of the signs that actually are there.”
C’mon, Ian, fucking say something.
“I just… don’t think he’s as into you as you're into him.”
Ian finally says something.
“Yeah,” he says.
Mickey blinks. His mouth drops open. His brows scrunch together.
“I really am sorry, sweetheart–”
“No, it’s.” There’s the sound of Ian taking in a shuddery breath, followed by a deep sigh. “You might be right.”
Jesus fucking christ.
Mickey hauls himself up. Stomps down the stairs. Hears Lip mutter ‘oh shit’ before he’s even in view.
By the time Mickey reaches the base of the stairs they’re all looking at him with wide eyes. Lip sitting at the table, Fiona standing by the sink, Ian leaning against the fridge.
“Mickey!” Ian says, voice painfully faux-cheery, “I– um, good morning, when did you wake u–”
“Shut up,” Mikey bites out. He plants himself right in front of Ian. Jabs a finger hard against his chest. “You must be the stupidest goddamn fucker on the planet.”
Ian’s strained smile drops.
“Hey!” Fiona protests, but Mickey ignores her.
He forcefully reminds himself of what happened the last time he was too much of a fucking coward. Swallows down the nerves dread don’t bubbling up his throat and fizzing through his veins.
His hands are shaking, just a bit.
He brings them up, uses one to shove Ian back against the fridge and the other to fist in Ian’s hair, yanks down his head enough so Mickey doesn’t have to go up on his fucking tippytoes like some bitch.
Ian makes this surprised little sound when their lips collide. Which actually works out great, because it gives Mickey the opportunity to shove his tongue into his mouth.
Mickey can feel the tension seeping out of Ian. That shocked little noise morphs into a deep groan. Ian’s big hands clamp down on Mickey’s hips hard enough to bruise.
“Woah, okay, that is way more than I need to see,” Lip announces, punctuated by the sound of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “I’m gonna go ahead and finish my coffee somewhere else. Preferably somewhere very far away.”
Mickey grins into the kiss. Relishes in momentary victory. Two down, one to go.
He pulls back, their lips making a positively indecent sound as they part. Mickey huffs when Ian tries to trail after him. Uses the grip on his hair to keep him at bay.
Mickey turns his head just enough to cock a pointed brow at Fiona. “That enough touching for you? Or should I go all out and bend over the kitchen table for him?”
Ian makes a strangled sound. His hands spasm on Mickey’s hips. He yanks Mickey closer, so Mickey can better appreciate the way he’s grown hard as a rock, the way his dick is pressing perfectly up against Mickey’s own.
Fiona rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, alright, you’ve made your point.” She brushes past them. Pauses just before disappearing up the stairs to look back at them with a solemn, serious expression. Locks eyes with Mickey. “I really, genuinely hope I’m wrong about you.”
Mickey swallows hard. Stares after her as she retreats.
He hopes so, too.
His grip on Ian tightens, then loosens. Ian seizes the opportunity to surge forward and latch onto Mickey’s neck like a fucking leech.
“Jesus, firecrotch,” Mickey hisses.
Ian hums. Smears a smile against Mickey’s skin. Nips at Mickey’s ear. “So…” he hedges, grinding their hips together again, “How serous were you about letting me fuck you on the kitchen table?”
Fuck.
Maybe Mickey is a bad influence on Ian afterall.
send me a number~
#prompt games#gallavich#my scribblings#this happened in canon i know it did i was there i was watching them through the window#fun and only vaguely related mechy fact: i ONLY passed 7th grade out of spite. i was absolutely going to be held back a year#then one of my teachers made a comment about me being dumb the day before final exams and when i tell you i ACED that shit#highest score in the class#only missed ONE question and it was because i filled in the wrong bubble on the scantron#very shameless coded imo#spite is such an amazing motivator
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visacashapprb: SAY IT LOUDER FOR PEOPLE AT THE BACK
#no truly#say it louder for the people at the back!!#because they forget who was the OG pioneer of this chant!!!#it started on that fateful day on a melb tram baby!!!#that song is OURS!!!#daniel ricciardo#aus gp 2024
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NORMALIZE BAD MOVIE ERASURE👏🏼
#say it louder for the annoying people in the back Rick#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo tv show#pjo series#percabeth#rick riordan#lady gaga
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