#I flipped him around on a piece of toilet paper for a bit to dry him off and he was just a stiff little hook shape for a while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cerinefalls · 3 years

Text

‎

𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝒹

An Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: On the way back to UA after a weekend of field training, the bus breaks down. Luckily for classes 1A and 1B, Vlad was able to find you rooms! Unluckily for everyone, it was not a big hotel. Time to share, and your roommate was... you guessed it; Izuku Midoriya! Good thing, too, because you're not feeling too good.

Other Parts: Shoto Todoroki

Content: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Suggestive Themes

｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ

You wandered down the halls near aimlessly as you searched for your room. It shouldn't have been so hard to find a room in a hotel, but unfortunately for you, this place had no order. Room 412 should've been right between 410 and 414, but in its place was room 416. Was your room even located on the fourth floor? You were unsure at this point.

"Four twelve... four twelve... four twelve... It should be here, but these aren't in numerical order. Maybe if I retrace my steps, I'll see that I missed something! No, these aren't in order either. Are villains trying to disorient us? Maybe I'm thinking too hard... " You overheard a familiar voice muttering down the hall. It was nearing you, but you couldn't point out exactly who it was.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the voice gradually got louder. Soon, it sounded like it was right in front of you. It was right in front of you! You bumped into the source of the sound and nearly fell backward. That was an oddly soft wall you'd run into.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you, I swear! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I-" Now you knew who it was. Who else went on and on that way? It had to be Deku.

"No- I'm fine, Midoriya." You brushed off whatever initial shock you'd felt and stood up straight again. "You said 412?" The room. That was your room, and if he'd seen it, you needed to know where.

"What? Oh, the woman at the desk told me to look for room 412, but I can't find it anywhere." Izuku replied to you without hesitation. His brain was running at full capacity at all times, after all.

"She did? That's my room too. Can we look together?" You'd been grouped with Midoriya? That was unexpected. You'd expected someone like him to end up with Bakugo or Todoroki, but it looked like he was stuck with you. You didn't know him too well, but he probably didn't mind.

"Yeah! This must be a test." He nodded, accepting your offer. Was he always thinking about hero work? That looked like what the hero course did to them all.

The two of you spent minute after minute hauling luggage around the fourth floor. After a while, Izuku offered to take your bags for you. You declined- but were starting to wish you hadn't. Double-checking, triple-checking- nothing provided results, and it was beginning to tire you.

"Maybe it's on another floor?" You pitched your idea to the now pacing and muttering mess of a boy. He'd hardly heard you through his thick thought bubble.

"Of course! If all of these are out of order, there's no telling how disorienting the next floors are. It must be somewhere else!" Had he seriously not considered that before? You hesitated to tell him because you thought he'd already checked the other floors. Then again, this wouldn't be the first time someone had to suggest something obvious to him.

Izuku led you to the elevator and pressed the button to move down a floor. One floor at a time, that's how you'd do it. The wait was long, and Midoriya appeared lost in thought the entire time. Soon, the quiet elevator ride lowered you to the third floor.

"Alright, let's check around here for the-"

"I found it!" Midoriya interrupted you with his outburst from slightly down the hall. Sure enough, on the 3rd floor, 412 was sat between 310 and 314. It made you wonder what happened to room 312.

Never mind any of your questions or concerns, it was time to sit! Finally, after all that time training, you got to sit on a sturdy piece of furniture. The odd circumstances didn't even cross your mind as you rushed past Izuku and onto the red couch that sat against the wall in the front of your hotel room.

"You're smart," Midoriya smiled wide as he shut the door behind you. After the click of the lock settled your arrangement, he too sat on the couch at the separate end. "So it... looks like we're going to be spending the night here. I'm glad Class B's teacher was able to find us rooms." He nodded to himself.

"Me too." You nodded, stretching out. As you finished your relieving movement and turned to Izuku, you were met with an intense stare. He stopped when he noticed you looking, though. "What?" You questioned.

"Oh- nothing! It's just... your side. It's scratched," He mentioned. Right! that cut you'd gotten during practice. You'd forgotten all about it when the bus broke down. It wasn't bleeding anymore, and the pain had gone away. "Is it bad?" Izuku sounded concerned.

"No! Just a silly surface wound. I'm sure it'll be fine once we get to recovery girl." You responded fine, but Izuku did not seem to agree with you. He looked worried, face sporting a frown.

"You should really make sure it gets cleaned and patched up." He stood up and walked towards the bathroom, opening the door and disappearing inside. For a while. you wondered why. What was he doing in there? All that rustling and banging had to mean something.

"They didn't really have bandages, so I-" Eventually, your questions were answered. Izuku exited the bathroom with a first-aid kit and... other things.

"Bandages? I'm not bleeding." You tilted your head a few times, trying to see what he'd come up with. Deku was surely one to know how to wrap wounds, so it couldn't have been anything outrageous.

"You were! It's important to keep it sealed, even if you aren't bleeding anymore." The reason this green-haired boy was panicking was unannounced to you, but in midst of his worry, he made a good point. Who knew what lurked in this hotel? An infection was the last thing you needed.

"Well... alright, Midoriya. How do you plan on helping this, though?" You asked, agreeing to let him help you. Izuku smiled wryly before pulling from behind him a... roll of toilet paper?

"The toiletries here aren't soft and crumbly. They're sort of like... paper. This can make a good temporary bandage when used correctly." His smile was unsure- almost as if he wanted you to fact-check him. You nodded to say you trusted him, but as for the quality of his information? Well, nobody knows.

"Okay... and how do you expect to get that to stick?" You could ask Sero- but, other than that, all options looked to be off the table.

"The first aid kit doesn't have gauze, but it does have some tape left! Skin-safe, of course!" His smile looked more sure now. It faded as he began to put together his makeshift bandaging. He looked focused as he wiped your skin clean with alcohol pads and waved them dry.

He seemed focussed- not on the process- but on keeping you comfortable. Izuku knew he had the ability to hurt you if he wasn't careful, because even though you'd felt fine before, you flinched each time he pressed around the cuts. They were not completely healed, after all.

"Normally, I'd tell you to go take a shower..." He spoke under his breath, tape holder securely between his teeth as he tore pieces to use. "But, because of how these are... I know it'll hurt if you do." Midoriya gently secured a large, doubled-over section of toilet paper to your side. He was right to say the texture was that of paper because you would surely hate to wipe with what he'd placed on you.

"But, shouldn't I shower anyway? We were training, and..." You tried to finish your sentence, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to when you noticed Izuku lost in thought. He was staring at your waist, your top moved with one of his hands as the other carefully ran across the 'bandaging' he'd just applied.

"Might need another layer..." He mumbled, not paying all too much attention to what you said- until you called him, that is.

"Izuku?" You leaned as close to eye level with him as you could and it startled him.

"Oh- sorry!" Whether it was his name or the sharp eye contact that drew his attention was unknown. What you did know was that he'd quickly backed away from you, unhanding your clothes and swiping your side a bit as he stumbled backward on the couch. You tried not to let him know it'd hurt, but you couldn't help the instinctual jolt away from him that followed. "Did I- oh no, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I was just scared I was making you uncomfortable and then you looked at me and you said my name and I got scared and..." He... was... mumbling to himself again.

"Midoriya, it's fine. I was just-" You attempted to calm him down, but he was too far gone. It appeared his stunt of focus was interrupted by his feeling of embarrassment. Maybe you should try his first name again? "...Izuku?" It worked! His muttering paused and he looked up at you. His expression was unreadable for a moment.

"You said it again..." He sat up and paused, clearly trying to deduce something. Was that seriously all it took to calm him down?

"Said... what?" You questioned, holding a hand to the throbbing pain on your midsection. He had a harder hit than you thought he would- especially for an accident. He must've really sought to keep a light hand before.

"My... name. I'm sorry if that sounds odd! It's just..." He looked away from you, not without glancing at the hand you held to your side. "Ever since Kacchan and I got to UA... Well, I guess I didn't realize people knew my name." That was true. Bakugo had given Izuku that nickname, and it spread like a rash. Midoriya was strong to have flipped it to be his hero name. Ever since then, no one had called him by anything but Deku or Midoriya.

"I hope I'm not crossing any lines by using it- it just seemed to capture your attention." Your response was direct and apologetic.

"It's not that," Midoriya shook his head. "I have no problem with it! It's just... new." He mustered another smile and met your eyes again. You quickly moved your hand but you knew he'd seen it. Your intention wasn't to make him feel bad! It just hurt, was all.

"Well, Izuku... how about we go to sleep? It's getting late," You tested him. His smile formed more properly this time!

"Yes, but I really should add another layer or two to that. I wouldn't want it to tear in your sleep." He was calm enough to say that without flustering himself. Perhaps the same focus he had earlier had returned? No, that wasn't it.

The look in his eyes as he carefully followed the same process he had before matched the look there was during training today. He wasn't just focused on helping you- he was in a hero's mindset. It would've been endearing had you not known about his crippling hero complex.

Nevermind that.

Once Izuku had finished putting a more cushiony layer over your midriff, he backed away to view what he'd done. He seemed proud of himself. Rightfully so! Because he'd truly done his best in this endeavor.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" He moved the hand he'd used to hold up your top down to your waist, his second hand doing the same on the opposite side. Midoriya applied a gentle amount of pressure with both hands, and shockingly, it didn't hurt at all!

"Wow... it... doesn't-" You shook your head and looked down at his hands. It was a bit interesting- looking at him. He still resembled an entirely different state of mind as he sat there tending to you. After a couple more squeezes, though, your own mind wandered.

You attempted to fight it by taking a more literal view of things. You looked first at his arms. They were freckled splotchily. It was an interesting pattern in contrast to the multitude of horizontal scars on his hands. His hands... you couldn't quite see them. The fabric of your shirt had completely fallen over top of them as he continued to pressure check. This method of literal examination only worked for as long as you could focus on it, though. Once Izuku began gently dragging his hands up and down your midsection to check for sturdiness, that strategy was less effective.

"It's not slipping... I think you're good for tonight. Let me know... if it... gets..." As Midoriya lifted his head to make proper eye contact while he spoke, he noticed an all-too-familiar expression on your face. Heat had risen to your cheeks, and you were clearly averting your eyes from his own. Had he made you... nervous? He wasn't sure, but it seemed you were timid in comparison to earlier. Izuku slowly removed his hands from under your shirt and placed them on your knees, watching you closely. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice saturated in concern.

"I'm fine! Nothing's wrong." You brushed off his concern, though you were still twiddling around. "You said it seems alright?" You aimed to change the subject. It was time for bed anyway! Midoriya had to be exhausted from today's training, after all.

"Yes... I applied about as much pressure as a mattress would and you didn't flinch. I think you'll be alright to sleep," He nodded. Would you be able to get him back to his usual mindset any time soon? It was beginning to get uncomfortable– usually, Deku was the one getting flustered, but right now he was calm and you were the one stumbling over yourself.

All you could do was nod. Eventually, Midoriya backed away from you to allow you to change. It was just the break you needed. You walked into the bedroom with your bag and pulled out your bedclothes. You were met with a shock when you turned to put them on, though.

"That can't be right..." You said that louder than you'd meant to. Who wouldn't, though? This was a room for two people, wasn't it?

"Is everything okay in here?" Midoriya was approaching, but you didn't hear him entirely. You wished he'd knocked when he entered, though. Izuku walked in on you with your shirt hanging from your neck. You rushed to put it back on, slipping it onto your arms as he stepped forward.

"Only... one?" He questioned. It seemed he hadn't noticed you. It wasn't surprising because the two of you were confused about the same thing. Be it some twist of fate, or some odd plot device– the sight in front of you was absurd. There was only one bed.

"I'm sure this is a mistake. I mean, our room was on the wrong floor," You mentioned.

"You're right... but, I don't think we can do anything about it." Midoriya was shifting from foot to foot behind you. "I should sleep on the couch! You're injured, and I don't want you to get hurt any more than you are." The way he spoke was not that of his usual self. He still sounded like he was thinking tactically as opposed to how he normally would.

"No! I mean- no. Izuku, you can stay in here." You looked at the bed once again. There may have only been one- but it was huge! No reason for him to sleep on the couch at all. "Even so, what if I do get hurt? I'd rather you be here to help me." Were you doubting his toilet paper bandages?

...You were. You were doubting his toilet paper bandages.

"I-" Had you finally choked him up? Gotten at least some Midoriya-like response? You had! For once, you managed to make him think about the situation. You didn't know why, but for some reason, you were pleased by it.

"You..?" You prodded.

"Well! I suppose you may be right..." He was looking away from you now, rocking back and forth. You'd gotten him just as nervous as he'd had you. Midoriya was clearly trying to rationalize what you'd said. You were correct- his creation was his creation. If it tore or fell off, he would have to be the one to replace it. So it was settled. Midoriya would sleep on one end, you on the other.

You attempted to change your clothes once Izuku had left but soon noticed that would be more difficult than planned. When you attempted to lift your arms over your head, you felt a painful sting around you. You could hear his pacing around come to a stop when you audibly expressed distress. You'd just gotten your shirt off fine! Why was the wound hurting now?

Things began to make sense over time, though. You'd encountered a villain with no flashy or visible quirk– but they'd hit you with something unique to them. That kitty had claws, and it was looking like they'd hit you with a concealed weapon.

"Are you okay!?" Izuku rushed in soon after you'd realized what was going on. He sounded remarkably worried. Perhaps your cry of pain was louder than you'd thought...

"I'm fine... I think." You had to sit down. The more time that passed, the more painful things became. "I don't think that villain I fought had a mutant quirk..." You huffed, eyes watery. It was only downhill from here.

"Really? Did I jot it down wrong? What's happening?" He was frantic in his efforts to gather information. Midoriya sat down on the side of you that wasn't injured to avoid hurting you.

"The more... I move..." You were slowly growing out of breath. Were you panicking yourself? It felt as though maybe the venomous scratches raked harder with the rise and fall of your chest. "I don't know... I was fine until I tried to move my arms... maybe I did it too fast?"

"Oh no this is bad... the only time I've seen a quirk like this was..." No need to type out all of his panic-filled sentences. Long story short, he felt a bit responsible for your pain. You hadn't started hurting until he tried to fix it, after all.

"Izuku, I don't care." You began to steady your breathing so that you could talk to him properly, though you still sounded strained. "I just want to go to sleep, and I won't be able to get there on my own." If he really felt he was at fault, he'd likely oblige to helping you. You at least hoped he would, because the pain you felt only got worse when you attempted to care for yourself.

"Are you sure?" He sounded worried again now; not for you, but his skills. It was much like the worry he'd harbored while bandaging you. If he was not careful now, he could really hurt you. His ceaseless trembling made his unease all the more clear, and you all the more impatient.

"Hey- just think of it how you did last time. You know... like you're being a hero?" You mentioned his earlier attitude, and almost like a lightbulb had been lit, he changed his demeanor.

"I was acting like that? I'm sorry- I didn't notice." He stood up and stepped in front of you. "But, if it helped... I guess I could do it again." Izuku was visibly trying to switch attitudes again. It did not take long. Soon, he was mumbling things he noticed about the quirk's effect on you while looking for a place to start. Now, you felt the same hands that'd helped wrap you on your sides once again. This time, though, he was focused on your clothes.

"That's your pajama shirt over there, right?" He asked, voice wary. For a second you were unsure why.

"Yes, that's the one. Could you bring it to me?" You replied simply. If you kept a work-based mindset, it would help him maintain one as well.

"Of course! But, well... I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you shouldn't put it on on your own..." Though he was attempting to remain professional, he couldn't help the tint that covered his cheeks. This was embarrassing. "I'll look away! Only one of us needs to see for me to help you, right?" He was starting to let the fear seep through his voice. You brushed it off to save his pride.

You just nodded, assuming it'd work. It did work! Though you couldn't focus the entire time. Izuku ran his hands down the sides of your top, grabbing the bottom hem gently. He did his best not to bump into you or cause you to move more than you had to, knowing it'd be painful.

It was hard to get your arms up, but you did it for as long as you could while Midoriya slid off your day clothes and neatly fixed your bed shirt atop of you. Once he'd let it down, he helped you bring your arms down and laid you on the bed.

"I promise to stay close so you can call me if you need to. Only if you want to, that is! I don't know how long the effects of that quirk will last, so..." Whatever the effects were. It was a bit hard to tell. As you laid still, the pain from before began to subside. Sure enough, you were just fine to lay on the bed. Neither side of you caused trouble–

That is until you chose to remove the bottoms you'd been wearing. It was a tad warm with another person in bed, and you were under the covers anyhow. It shouldn't have mattered! Sadly for you, though, the last bit of stretch you needed to move them past your hips was too much for your body to handle. Perhaps the bend in your midsection was what caused the quirk to activate? Every time you moved your core, venomous stings prickled throughout your body. Izuku felt the sheets rustling and turned over to check on you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting up on his forearm to look over you. You stopped moving, a wise decision, and cleared your throat to respond to him.

"Well, I was trying to get comfortable, and..." Your sentence trailed as you began to think this was nothing worth troubling him with. "It's nothing, Izuku. Just a little pain."

"Well, how can I help?" He sounded once again concerned, and you could feel him sitting up behind you.

"No ways you'd want to! Don't worry about it, really." You insisted, but he insisted harder. It took quite some time, but eventually, he broke you into telling him the issue. Midoriya was clearly rattled, but he also dispensed a strange look of determination. He did tell you he would be there to help you, and he was determined to live up to his word. A hero may be put in uncomfortable situations after all.

After a long list of questions asking for consent to help you with your... specific problem, he raised enough courage to scoot behind you and begin his assistance. What happened next nearly stunned you. Izuku did his best not to move you as he gently slid his left hand beneath your hips. He felt around for a moment, and you could almost hear him panicking when he couldn't find the top seem of your pants. He decided it'd be best to find the top using his other hand, and so shortly after you found his right hand slinking fingers around your waist and traveling down to your thigh.

Your face burned as he continued to feel around for your clothes. Eventually, he found what he thought to be the hook he was looking for. As he pulled and you shifted backward into him to stop the fabric from moving, he realized he'd picked the wrong thing.

"I am so sorry! I didn't mean to- oh this is bad. I'm so so sorry, I didn't know that was there and I-" Boy was he good at talking. You shushed him quickly, though, feeling well enough to use your own hand to guid his down to where your bottoms really were. You attempted not to squirm as he carefully pulled them past your thighs and got them off of your feet.

"Thank you." You smiled, sporting a grateful expression. The both of you were thankful it was dark, because each of you had blushed faces due to what'd happened under the covers.

"You're very welcome." Deku sounded distant when he replied. He attempted to act as normal as possible, but the air in the room was thick enough to suffocate you. Today was eventful to say the very least.

"Hey, Izuku?" You called him, hoping you could surface his mind.

"Oh- yes?" He sounded attentive enough.

"Let's.. go to bed, yeah?"

"That... is a great idea."

In the stoic silence of your room you eventually found yourself drifting into sleep. Izuku hadn't moved his hands from around your waist when he brought them up from your legs. You were glad, because had he made any sudden movements in his startled state he would've done more harm than good. It wasn't like the position of his hands was uncomfortable, either. Soon enough, both of you were unconscious. It would be a shame if someone walked in that night... oh well. Not like they could find the room.

｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ

If you've made it this far, thank you! Go ahead and keep reading.

My requests are open and I encourage you to use them!

Check out my other socials!

185 notes · View notes

bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

Crossfaded - Geto & Gojo

I have nothing to say except shady older brother + shady friend = a fun time lol femme reader btw and I wrote this while tipsy so if there’s repeating phrases cut me some slack lol

TW: incest, dumbification, drug usage(marijuana)

Satoru-nii was nice, but aloof. Ever since you’d met him, you always felt like just a little kid trailing behind him, wanting to be part of whatever the big kids were doing. He humored you well enough, but you never felt truly a part of whatever was happening.

And when Satoru entered university, it felt even more like you were being left behind. He’d still let you hang out in his room, but would kick you out if he had studying to do, which seemed more often than not.

He often brought his friend Geto over to the house. They’d both say hi to you, but still pass you by with lingering gazes and a few hushed words spoken about you as they walked to Satorus room to do who knows what. You’d always fall asleep before Geto left, so you never knew that sometimes they’d stand outside your door and talk about you.

Sometimes, Geto would humor you if he caught you in the kitchen or another shared space. He’d catch you by the arm and pull you close, asking you about whatever it was you were doing, or how your life was. Sometimes he’d play with your hair, others he’d give you a sweet, but he’d only hand it over if you said ‘thank you Geto-nii.’

Often, when Geto was with you, Satoru would find you as well, and they’d talk about you while you were right there. Speaking about how childish you still were, and how they wished they could take you to a uni party but you’re just not mature enough.

You’re quick to pipe up and say that you’re far more mature than either of them give you credit for and that they should totally take you to a party sometime because it would be a bunch of fun! They exchange a look, one that goes right over your head, and Geto says that you should practice going to a party before they take you to a real one.

So that’s how you got into this situation, staring at the clothes they’d laid out for you on your bed. They wanted you to dress the part, so Satoru and Geto went through your closet and picked out some of the most scandalous pieces you owned and told you to come into Satorus room when you were done getting ready.

“There she is.” Satoru whistles when you enter the room, arms crossed over your chest in slight embarrassment at the too short skirt and too small top they put you in.

“So beautiful!” Geto adds, a bright smile on his face. He immediately starts taking out his weed and rolling papers, and Satoru puts on some music, it’s loud bass thumping through the floor and vibrating your toes.

The house is empty save for the three of you, so there’s no chance that your parents will come in and ruin the fun. Satoru waves you over, and as soon as you’re close enough he pulls you to sit in between him and Geto on his bed.

“Ever smoked before?” Geto asks as he begins to roll a joint. You shake your head no, and you’re about to ask what it’s like when Satoru puts a shot glass in your hand.

“Drink up!” He smiles, and they both stare at you until you drink it.

“Ew!” You shiver at the bitter taste coating your tongue and the burn in the back of your throat. They both laugh, and Satoru rubs a hand down your bare thigh.

“You’re so cute.”

“I don’t like that.” Whatever was in the cup has made your face permanently sour, and it makes Satoru laugh again.

“Well that’s what parties are like, (Y/N)! You drink stuff you don’t like but after a while it makes you feel good.” Taking your glass, he fills it up again. “Have another and then you’ll know what I mean.” His smile is so non-threatening that you feel almost silly for having that reaction in the first place.

“Okay.” You swallow this shot quicker than the first, and they both cheer for you. Leaning back on the pillows they’d set up behind you, you let the alcohol in your body go through you. The burn in the back of your throat gives way to a hot feeling in your stomach that spreads to your limbs.

Soon, you ask for another shot and Satoru is more than fine with giving it to you. You’re starting to understand what he means by it’ll make you feel good; everything is just that bit funnier, that bit more interesting.

Leaning your head on Satorus shoulder, you giggle at something that’s not even funny. Your hands are playing with the hem of your skirt, and suddenly you don’t feel so shy about wearing it around them.

“That’s such a pretty skirt and I can even see your pretty panties underneath.” Geto hums, his fingers brushing yours. You bit your lip bashfully and thank him, hiding your face in Satorus shoulder when it gets too much.

The flick of a lighter is heard, and soon the room is full of a hazy smoke and a funny smell in the air. Geto inhales a few times, and lets out deep methodical exhales. Satoru reaches for the joint, and you can feel the smoke linger in the air around you.

“Try this.” He nudges you and puts the blunt near your mouth.

“What do I do?” You ask, looking between them with big eyes.

“Just inhale and try to hold it as long as you can.” Nodding at the instructions, you wrap your lips around the joint. You inhale for all of three seconds before ripping away and coughing violently.

Geto cooes at you, calls you such a baby, and Satoru is already putting the joint back at your lips. You try to push it away, say you’re not ready, but he doesn’t really listen. He makes you inhale again, and this time you hold it for a few seconds longer, but the burn in your throat is far too much.

“How about another shot?” Geto suggests as you furiously wipe your teary eyes.

“O-okay.” Sniffing back more tears, you take another shot, and then another after that. It doesn’t really help with the burn, only makes it worse in fact, and it’s only after some begging that Satoru finally gives you some water.

“How can you smoke that?” You whine, watching Satoru take a hit.

“It’s just like the alcohol (Y/N), you have to get used to it.” Geto hums, and he’s already rolling another.

“I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Satoru teases, bumping your shoulder as he passes the joint. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, you are one.” He laughs at the pout on your lips.

“I am not a baby, Sato-nii!”

“Oh really?”

“Really!”

“Then take a hit from the blunt and actually hold it in.” He challenges, holding up the nearly gone joint. You take it without hesitation and inhale, lighting up what’s left until it burns your fingers. Your cheeks puff out from the force required to hold it in, and Satoru is just waiting to laugh at you.

“Good girl.” Geto praises when you finally let go thirty seconds later. He rubs a hand on your leg, a few inches up past the hem of that too short skirt.

Everything hits you fast. The alcohol and the joint together are leaving you laughing at nothing and oh so pliant. Geto only has to look at you and you’re bursting into a fit of giggles and burying your face in his shoulder. Satoru turned the music up a little, so now you have to lean in just a bit closer to hear what’s being said.

When you leave to go to the bathroom, both men laugh at how you stumble about and nearly fall several times. Satoru even asks if he should help you use the toilet, but you flip him off and stumble out.

“Come here.” Geto calls as you reenter. You walk to him no question, and when he pulls you to straddle his lap, you don’t question it. “Such a pretty girl.” He murmurs, brushing a hand on the side of your face. His fingers go down your neck and you lean your head to the side accordingly. The touch of his fingers on you is making you excited, and you squeeze your thighs around his when his hand dips down to your chest.

“G-geto…” You trail off, leaning your face impossibly close to his without actually kissing him.

“What do you want? Do you want a kiss?”

“Yes.” You whisper, and you close your eyes in preparation.

“Then you should ask politely, hm?” That question sparks an immediate response, and you open your eyes again and nearly go cross eyed looking at him so closely.

“Geto-nii, can I have a kiss?”

“Of course.” He kisses you, and immediately you moan and push into him. You’ve had kisses before, but none like this; your whole body is tingling and you sloppily wrap your arms around him. There’s no way you’d let this feeling go, this otherworldly thing that made the spot between your legs tingly.

“You can touch her.” Satoru says, sensing Geto’s slight hesitation. At the green light, Geto’s hands are pushing under your skirt, grabbing at your ass that’s barely covered by your panties. Geto pulls you closer to him, sits you more on his lap and the brush of his pants against your sex makes you jump.

Taking that feeling and running with it, you don’t even realize you’re dry humping Geto desperately until he’s grabbing your hips and slowing you down, pushing you down harder onto him so you feel every ripple of the fabric.

“Fuck.” You whimper, throwing your head back as one of Getos hand grabs your breast and squeezes.

“Aht, language! Dumb little girls like you shouldn’t use such grown up words!” Satoru chastises you, and he gives your ass a quick smack that has you squealing.

“Sorry Sato-nii.” Pouting, you turn to Satoru and give him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll let it go this time, since you’re being so good at this party.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh at that. Laying your head on Getos shoulder, you shuffle your legs as his hands return to your ass.

Bunching up your skirt on your hips, Geto grabs handfuls of your ass and squeezes them, letting out pleased little hums every so often. With your skirt now out of the way, both men can see the lacy panties you put on.

“Such a good little sister, wearing what we told you.” Satoru grins, and he snaps the band of your underwear against your side. It tingles your whole leg when it snaps against your skin, and you smile at him.

“Thanks.” Rocking your hips side to side, you giggle bashfully. Satoru sends you a smile that warms up your chest, and you close your eyes when his hand joins Geto’s on your ass.

“How’re you feeling?” You’re not sure who asked, but you only hum as a response. In truth, you feel amazing, on top of the world, tingly and warm all over and everything is just so funny.

“Is someone too fucked up to answer?” It sounds like Geto’s voice this time.

“Take another hit from the blunt baby.” The object is pressed to your lips, and you inhale easily and blow out without coughing. “Getting used to it?”

“Mhmm.” You feel proud now that you’re not coughing up a storm and making a fool of yourself anymore. Taking a few more hits from the blunt, you practically fall off Geto’s lap and onto the other pillows at the head of Satorus bed.

“Look at that.” Geto grins, and he runs a finger up your slit. “You’re so wet, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yeah.” With a voice barely above a whisper, you stare at both men above you. The weed is starting to hit you harder now, and your limbs feel like lead, but not unpleasant. Your legs are moved, not of your own accord, and your skirt is bunched up even higher now.

“Let’s get these panties off you.” Satoru grunts, and they slide down your legs with ease. Geto pockets them, and for some odd reason that makes you grin like a fool; he likes you enough to keep your panties.

“Open your legs.” The command is given, but you’ve no time to do it before your legs are opened for you. Bending them at the knee, Satoru pushes them to your chest and holds them there.

With your cunt exposed to the both of them, you feel just a little embarrassed, but excitement is taking over. They watch for just a moment while you clench around nothing, and your slick coats your entire sex and drips down between your ass.

“You first.” Geto says graciously, and Satoru takes the spot right in front of you. His hands hold the backs of your thighs tightly, and he licks up your slit. You erupt in a mixture of moans and a squeal, and your legs try to force themselves down.

“Hold still.” Satoru grunts, and even though you nod you doubt you can do that. His tongue dips between your folds, swirling around your clit before pulling away again, and this time you only squirm just a little bit.

“Does it feel good?” Geto questions, and he’s right next to your head petting your hair.

“Yes!” You cry, hands darting out to grab Satorus as he digs his face into your cunt and pushes his tongue deep inside you. The music they put on is doing nothing to cover the sounds you're making, if anything they’re pushing you to be louder.

You’re cumming before you even realize it. With a few deft flicks of his tongue on your clit, Satoru has you cumming harder than you ever have before. Your hands are flying all over the place, grabbing the bed sheets and Getos clothing to try and ground you as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

“Think you can take another?” Geto hums, giving you a smirk before he switches places with Satoru.

“I don’t know.” Staring at Geto between your legs, you truly don’t know. The pleasure that Satoru had just given you was immense, your orgasm hitting you harder than you ever thought possible.

“Don’t ask her such hard questions.” Satoru chuckles, and you see him off to the side fiddling with the stereo.

“You’re right, my bad.” With a soft chuckle, Geto wraps his arms around your thighs. Now that you’re able to see who’s between your legs, it’s almost too much for you to handle. Geto is staring right at you, his eyes not wavering from yours in the slightest. With his thumbs he spreads your lips and lolls his tongue out of his mouth.

Flicking your clit, he lets out a breathless chuckle when you jump. Giving your clit a few more licks, he continues to stare at you as he sucks it into his mouth. Throwing your head back, your hands are once again going everywhere, trying to grab onto something.

Catching your hand, Geto puts it in his hair. You’ve always wondered what his hair felt like, always seen it in a half bun or just down cascading around his shoulders. Coming close to touching it a few times, now that you have it in your hands for real it’s better than you could’ve imagined.

“G-geto-nii!” You whine, tightening your hold on Geto’s hair when he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“So tight.” He sighs, feeling the warmth of your cunt envelop him. “You’re practically milking my fingers.” It’s true, you’re so tight that every time he tries to pull out, Getos fingers get sucked right back in.

Moaning in response, your hips buck up to meet his fingers. They’re much bigger and thicker than your own, filling you in a way your hand never could. With his lips suctioned around your clit and his fingers inside of you, you cum again with shaking thighs.

“Fuck.” Cumming with a long groan, you don’t realize how tightly you’d been holding Geto until he pries your fingers off of him.

“Look at the mess you made, naughty girl.” Lifting up his fingers, Geto shows you the slick covering them. Your body is already flush with heat, and seeing him lick his fingers clean makes you even hotter.

Satoru returns to your field of vision, and he’s completely naked. You’d seen him in various stages of undress before, but this was the first time you’d seen him naked. His cock was pale, the tip flushed a deep pink, it still looked big even when he grabbed it.

“Let's get these clothes off.” Geto is already taking your skirt off before you can answer, and Satoru is taking your shirt.

“Pretty fucking tits.” Satoru says, and he grabs one in his hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers. Once your clothes are off, Geto stands and disrobes, and both stand at the edge of the bed and look at you.

“Got the lube?”

“Of course.” Satoru produces a bottle in his hands and gives it to Geto. As Satoru takes his place on the bed, Geto smothers his cock in lube.

“Get up here.” You slowly turn your head to Satoru who’s tugging your leg. You give him a curious look, your brain not fully connecting the dots on what he wants. Dropping your leg, he grabs under your arms and hoists you across his lap, chest to chest with him. His cock presses against your soaked cunt, and you whine at the feeling.

“Let’s get you nice and ready.” Geto speaks behind you. A finger presses against your puckered asshole and you gasp, whipping your head back to look at him.

“Geto-nii, what’re you doing?” Your words are impossibly slurred and come out too slow.

“I need to get you ready, or else it’ll hurt.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head, focused on getting his finger inside you.

“Kiss me.” Grabbing your chin, Satoru pulls you back to him. Pushing his tongue into your mouth the moment your lips connect, Satoru has a monopoly over you. With one hand on your chin, the other grips the back of your head and he keeps your face pressed to his while Geto works you up to take two fingers.

“Ready.” Geto says, and Satoru only nods. Blindly grabbing his cock, Satoru guides it into your cunt, bottoming out almost immediately as Geto does the same in your ass.

“Oh my god.” Breaking the kiss, you press your forehead against Satorus chest. “T-too much.” You shift your hips to try and adjust, but it’s no use. This feeling of being so stuffed full of cock is foreign, but it shoots electricity up your spine all the same.

“Ssshh, it’s okay baby.” Petting a hand down your back, Geto grabs onto your hips. He’s the first to move, pulling out halfway and pushing back in slowly. He does this enough times to loosen you up, and then Satoru starts moving as well.

“You gotta move your hips too, little girl.” Satoru reminds you.

“M’kay.” You mumble, and you sit up slightly so you can start moving. With the shit in your system, it’s hard to even see straight let alone move your body, but somehow you manage a sloppy up and down motion.

“Poor baby’s all fucked up.” Geto laughs, and he slaps your ass.

“Nice and crossfaded.” Satoru nods, and he slaps your other cheek. The two of them share a laugh, and Satoru grabs onto your hips as well. Taking control of your movements, he digs his feet into the floor and bounces you on his cock.

“S-sato-nii!” Digging your nails into his arms, your body is moved in anyway the two men see fit. You’re in no state to really control your limbs yourself, and it’s far too easy to make you bend and bounce on their cocks however they want.

Leaning forward, Geto grabs your breast, fondling it as his hips slap into your ass hard. Satoru has a hand on your ass helping you move to the fast pace they set, the other holding your lower back.

“I- I-” You struggle to form a sentence, all the things you’re feeling are too much all at once. The sting of skin slapping skin is delicious, and the way both cocks pound into you, hitting that spot inside you, has you moaning and stuttering for words like a fool.

“Gonna cum already, pretty girl?” Geto pants, pinching your nipple as he feels you clench down on him. You nod, head falling back and forth willy nilly. A yes somehow goes past your lips, and you clench again when he pinches your nipple.

“So sensitive for your big brothers, aren’t you?” Satoru grins with his head pushed back against the mattress. He hasn’t slowed down one bit, pushing you down to meet their thrusts while his own hips piston up.

“Mhmm!” Your back arches when Satoru pushes down, and Geto lets out a rough groan.

“Shit I’m gonna cum.” He chuckles, and his voice is rough and deep, desperation creeping in. “Do you want Geto-nii to fill your ass up?”

“Yes! Please!” Your answering before you even process what was said, all you know is that you do want it.

“Good girl.” With a few pats to your ass, Geto pounds into you even harder. The added force behind his thrusts has you scrambling for purchase on the mattress, and a high pitch moan rips through your throat.

“Big brother!” The pleasure hits you far too hard. Your eyes are screwed so tightly shut that your eyes tingle and your breath stops for a moment, leaving you lightheaded and even more delirious. The squirming of your body won’t stop, not that you’re controlling it anyway, and for a moment you worry that you’ll get a cramp with how tightly your toes are curling.

“Shit.” Satoru says loudly, and his movements come to a stuttering halt and so do Getos. Both men bury themselves as deep as possible inside you, and an inexplicable warmth fills you.

“Oh my…” Your body finally relaxes a little. There’s a warmth pooling in your lower stomach that could only be the result of those two.

“Holy fuck.” Geto laughs breathlessly, slowly withdrawing his flaccid cock from your ass. You whine at the empty feeling and you clench around nothing. Satoru follows suit, pulling out of you and letting you roll over onto your back.

“How’re you feeling, baby girl?” Geto asks, and he’s staring directly between your legs.

“Amazing.” You whisper, but neither man is listening. Both of them are trained on your cunt where their cum is just leaking out of you and your holes continue to clench around nothing through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I think she squirted.” Satoru presents his lap to the two of you, and indeed his lap and legs are far wetter than normal.

“Nice.” They share a look, and as you settle into the cushions and the soft bed, fully prepared to go to sleep in bliss, they nudge you. “Open up.”

“Hm?” Cracking open an eye, you see both of them have their phones out, lenses pointed to your cunt. “What’re you doing?”

“Nii-chan is taking a present home.” Geto says, clicking the shutter a few times at your spent holes.

“You’re so sexy we wanna remember this moment forever.” Satoru adds, and that’s all the explanation you need. Once they’ve gotten their fill of taking pictures, Satoru grabs a towel for himself and Geto. When he’s done, Satoru turns his attention to your nearly fully unconscious form. “Wake up, baby, you gotta get clean.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you can’t be bothered to wake up. “Nii-chan can do it.” Both men chuckle at that, and they share a knowing look.

“Don’t worry, your big brothers will take good care of you.”

#tw: incest #tw: drugs #tw: dumbification #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

490 notes · View notes

wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

no one liked the first part but fuck you a part two

part one

Dabi x reader (we’ll get there)

warnings: Drinking, abuse, cannon divergence, swearing, spooky stuff

word count: 2,000 (about)

summary: the longer you stay with these ghosts the less you feel like yourself, as if something else had taken your place.

“Shoto, can we talk?” you asked quietly, as he poked at his bowl of cereal. Everything had seemingly gone back to normal, the only evidence that last night had even happened was the marks left around your throat. He shook his head and you sighed.

“Shoto, we have to talk about last night,” you said. His cheeks went hot with shame.

“I-I’m sorry please don’t be mad,” he pleaded tears filling his eyes. You blanched not knowing how to deal with this.

“No, No I’m not mad Shoto,” you reassured him, he didn’t calm down.

“It’s my fault!” he shouted putting his face in his hands.

“Sweetheart no,” you tried again, then on impulse you added “I won’t leave,” he sniffled and looked up at you.

“You’re going to stay?” he asked.

“Yeah I’m not going anywhere,” you said, reaching out to him, he winced and you didn’t touch him, not completing the action waiting for him to come to you, eventually he did. Giving you his hand to squeeze reasuringly.

“What happened lastnight wasn’t your fault, and it’s not going to scare me away.” you declared patting his soft cheeks dry with a napkin.

“Does that kind of thing happen a lot?” you asked and he nodded. “And did something like that happen and the last nanny got scared away because of it?” you asked and he nodded.

“The last three,”

“Well, Not me, that mean old ghost isn’t anything I haven’t delt with before,” you said in an effort to sooth him.

“He’s not mean- not most of the time anyways,” Shoto defended. “He just gets mad sometimes and it’s scary but he wouldn’t hurt me,” this supprised you, and you couldn’t help but not believe him. Even if this ghost loved him, even if this ghost was family, it could still hurt him.

“Do you know his name?” you asked. Shoto crossed over to you and cupped his hands around your ear before whispering in that loud breathy way children whispered.

“Toya,”

You didn’t plan on doing much that day, both of you too shell shocked for chit chat about books or a trip to the movies but you were saved from having to do any planning by a loud ringing of the door bell.

It made you jump. Anyone who worked at the home just came and went as they pleased, as did Enji, and any pakages came through the back door. You realized this must be the first time you’d heard the door bell rung. Shoto looked equally puzzled.

“Do you want to go see who it is?” you asked and he nodded sticking out his hand for you to take hold of. The two of you went down stares and just as you reached to forer you saw a white haired man about your age being welcomed in.

“Natsuo!” Shoto called out dropping your hand to rush to the man. Natsuo laughed and crouched catching Shoto in his arms and whisking him up in a tight hug.

“Hey kiddo!” he laughed happily than turned to you.

“Sorry for the unannounced visit, If I had had your number I would have called you,” he said, you offered him a tight smile. As bad as you were dealing with children you were even worse with your peers.

“No truoble at all, I’m (y/n) the nanny,” you said taking the hand he offered you and shaking it furmly.

“Natsuo, i’m the older brother,”

You warmed up to Natsuo quickly. It was hard not to like him when Shoto was so clearl thrilled to see him. He seemed like a good guy and you spent the day playing with hot wheeles with the two of them. You even let Shoto stay up passed his bedtime so he could spend somemore time with his brother, and when he was too sleepy to keep his eyes open any longer, Natsuo put him to bed.

“Can I get you a drink before you leave?” you offered.

“I’d love that,” he said. The cook had already left for the day, but you could manage yourself just fine. You poured him a glass of wine, then a glass for yourself, you both stood around the counter drinking and talking in hushed tones together.

“I’m surprised you took the job honestly,” he said, now just taking a quick swig form the wine bottle before passing it to you so you could take a drink too.

“I needed it,” you admitted.

“Still, there are better places to work, better people to work for,” he said bitterly.

“To be fair, I don’t know your father as well as you do,” you siad.

“But you heard the rummors right?”

“Just the ones that this place is haunted.” He scoffed, taking another drink.

“That all is bullshit, I’m talking about what people say about dad,”

“That I haven’t heard,”

“Well they aren’t rummors you know? T’sall true. He beat our mom until she went nuts and killed his own son. Everyone knows he did it too, but he’s got that rich bastard money so all his problems dispeared,” he spat drunkenly. There was an uncomfortable pause after that, you weren’t sure what to say after that, and Natsuo seemd to realized he’s killed the mood.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, can you tell me about your brother?” you asked. Natsuo shrugged.

“He’s a good kid, but you know that, Shoto’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, not Shoto, your other brother,” you pried furhter. He sighed deaply.

“Toya was a mother fucker.” he said stuggling to think of anything else. “But I loved him. He was, mean and a son of a bitch but we were thick as theives growing up, he faught with dad alot, but I loved him.” He told you. It wasn’t much to go on but you guessed you should be glad that you had gotten that much.

“Fuyumi was the smart one she always had her nose in some book but we’d pull her hair to get her to chase us… god I miss her i’should call er,” he mumbled to himself.

“Natsuo do you want me to call you a cab? You probably shouldn’t be driving,”

“That be great, thank you.”

You called the cab. And saw Natsou off. And then you were alone, in this large house that felt so small. You turned off the lights in the house, as much as you hated to do so, and started to make your way upstairs. You gripped the hand rail tightly, and looked down at your feet making sure they landed firmly on the stair each time before you trusted your leg with your weight.

You were drunk, although not as drunk as Natsou and your vision blured slightly around the edges. There was a low groaning sound as the house settled and you stopped for a moment resting your head agains the railing. You were too drunk to deal with any ghosts right now.

“Please don’t” you said softly, hoping in vain that if someone was listening the would grant your plea. You straightend. Getting dizzy from the sudden head rush, and kept marching up the stairs. You felt your way down the hall using the walls as guidance to your room. Your sad room that felt so small.

You needed a shower you decided and stumbled to the bathroom. You took off your shirt, then your pants, then your undergarments. You looked at yourself in the mirror there was another person in the mirror. Ablurry second you. Naked, ecept for your silver locket, thick purple bruises still on your neck.

You could see there were scars running down your chest and arms from the last time you had taken the locket off. But this time is different. You thought. She’s gone, she can’t hurt you anymore. You felt like you were going to throw up, but whether it was the alcohol or the thought of your mother it was hard to tell.

Quickly you turned on the watter and stepped into the shower embracing the ice cold spray. You took a shuddering breath and balled your hands into fists.

You had been devastated when your mother died. Your father had left before you were born and she was all you had. Of course, she was dead, but not gone. It was hard to ignore her screaming and thrashing at her own funeral, demanding that people look at her, see her. But you had to pretend that she wasn’t there. After all, no one else could see her. You had been gifted the locket the next day, and moved in with your Aunt the day after that.

And your mother followed. Sometimes, you talked with her, sometimes you ignored her. Sometimes she kept quiet and let you ignore her, but often she didn’t. It had been horible watching her spirit wither away, litterally loseing pieces of her self day by day. You had just been a child, you hadn’t known any better. You were just scared of losing your mom.

When your mother possessed you, it set her back to normal, at least for a little while, all her peices were there. And she was so happy everytime too, so proud of you. She would smile and tell you how wonderful it was to eat again, to sing and be seen, all the things living people take for granted. It was awful everytime, to be ejected from your body and losing chunks of time and memory, you could still rembebr how empty it all felt.

But it made her so happy, and it ment you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. It became easier and easier for your mom to take over, until she just had to touch your locket to be in control of you while your own contious slipped away. She had started taking over more and more often too.

It was awful, you had just wanted to be in your own body for a single day so you took your locket off.

You flipped the watter from cold to hot, deciding that you had sobered up enough and wanting a bit of comfort. You set the water so hot that it burned, but burned in a good way. You breathed in the steam and watched your fingers prune before finally turning off the shower. You towled off and looked at your self in the mirror again. Just one you this time.

It was late, nearly one in the morning. But you weren’t ready to turn in yet. You slipped on your robe and started padding around the halls. The robe was soft and a deep wine red color. You had never had a robe before, let a lone felt the need to use one, but it had come with the job, provided for you like the soap and the toilet paper.

The house was stil dark, still empty. Quiet and still except for the sound of your foot steps, your wet feet sticking slightly to the hard wood floor and pealing off of it with ever step. It didn’t take long for you to get lost, it never did, but you didn’t mind. You just wandered, deaftly poking the bruises on your neck to feel the sting.

Part of the hall way was illuminated by moonlight streaming through a glass door. You looked out and saw a balcony that you had never seen before. You reached out and touched the door nob. Unlocked.

You opened the door and stepped out into the crisp air night, the cold concrete felt good on your feet as the night breese fluttered your still damp hair. It was a full moon tonight. You could see hundreds of starts above you in the sky, the mansion was so far out from the citty that light polution wasn’t a problem.

The stone parapet was thick enough to sit on, so you did, letting your legs dangle over the edge. It was so far down. You noted, then wondered what floor of the house you were even on. Where exactly where you anyway? You kicked you feet back and forth watching them swing above the courtyard.

And when you looked up, the ghost from last night was there. Standing in the air. He gave you a small two-finger salute. Then he spoke

“Hello there.”

#dabi x reader #toya todoroki #toya todoroki x reader #dabi imagine #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon

43 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

Simply, yours (7) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: mature content, language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Alright! BAEKHYUN SNAPPED! Its happening all now! And there is mature content! I never ever wrote this type of content before, so... it might be just bad and cringey. I apologize if it is too bad, I need to challenge myself in this one more haha! I always enjoy feedback so dont hesitate to reach out! <3 if you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know 💕 I am thankful for you all, who read this story!

Tag: @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt

MASTERLIST

PARTS: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7

“Hm, this dinner thing,” Sukyeong started, tapping her index finger on her chin as she was thinking, staring at the email sent by the HR office. You looked at her expectantly, your mind not exactly present because you were thinking about something completely else. However, guessing she would have a serious question for you, you made sure to pay attention, until she blurted: “What will you wear?”

Hehe, you thought skeptically, something that is not hugging my body TOO MUCH. “Dunno,” you dismissed, waving your hand and turning back to your computer screen and back to drowning in your worries. Your cup of freshly brewed tea was still next to your mouse, waiting for it to be sipped, but you had little to no appetite that morning. “We received the email literally minutes ago, Sukyeong. I don't even know what will happen today in the evening.”

Your stomach had been flipping ever since you woke up and Baekhyun's morning kisses didn't soothe any of your nerves.

Sneaking a glance at Sukyeong, who was still deep in thought about what to wear for the upcoming event on Friday, you were desperately trying to figure out if you could tell her your worries. And also, let her know that way about your pregnancy. Would she run her mouth before you would get to speak to your boss?

She definitely wouldn't go against you, that you could state for sure.

Your stomach made yet another flip. Once you felt sweat starting to prickle down your neck, you knew immediately it was one of those mornings. Quickly jumping up, you were fast like lightning, swallowing on a dry throat as you tried to suppress your gag reflex.

Soon enough, you were over the toilet, emptying every single thing that went into your stomach yesterday (and it seemed like all the previous years, given how severe your gagging was). Flushing the toilet with you trembly hand, you took a rest for a bit on the floor, thankful for dressing up warmer (plus a big hoodie to hide your front) that day. The winter was fast approaching, and you couldn't have been more thankful. More reason to wear thicker clothes.

You were still breathing heavily when someone entered the toilets with hasty steps. You heard your name being called out, recognizing the voice as Sukyeong's.

“Are you in here?”

You swallowed, ignoring the familiar pain of your raw throat. “Yeah, I'm in here.”

“Are you okay?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you felt the tightness of your skin from the dried up tears. One breath, two breaths. Scrambling back to your legs, you opened the door of the stall, meeting a worried face of your kind co-worker. She was surprised to see your pale face and you spotted your phone in her hand. You frowned.

“Your phone kept vibrating; Baekhyun was looking for you and you weren't showing up for a while,” she said quickly and stepped closer to you. “Are you okay? Did you eat something bad last night?”

You shook your head, your heart jumping painfully at the mention of the father of the children you were bearing and complicating your life. Without realising, your chin quivered dangerously and you took in a shaky breath, diamond-shaped tears rolling down your pale cheeks. “I'm pregnant, Sukyeong.”

There, it was finally out.

“Oh goodness, I knew it! I so knew it!” she squealed, jumping slightly before hugging you. “Oh wait, drink some water,” she said and grabbed a little paper cup, filling it with filtered water on the corridor. She came back and you quickly swallowed, refreshing your burning insides.

“But I have a huge issue,” you continued, wiping your cheeks.

Only now she seemed to realize that you were crying for real. Crying, because something serious was happening. She didn't hesitate when she replied: “What is it? I will help you.”

“That piece of shit… he really made you promise him that? What a fucking TRASH!!!”

“I think the best would be if you tell him after dinner. He should be in a good mood. He might not kick you out.”

“We need to figure out what you can wear to hide the belly. It's not big yet, but still!”

“Oh my gosh, you are already this much in? Let me touch youuu!”

Sukyeong's endless support eased up your troubled mind. You were able to be much more relaxed and currently, you and Baekhyun were waiting for her to show up at your apartment to help you “fix the clothes” - you said that to the unsuspecting, innocent face of Byun Baekhyun.

“You look so good in jeans,” you mumbled appreciatively when Baekhyun emerged from the bathroom in nothing but dark-blue jeans, black underwear poking out, his hair wet, and a towel around his neck.

Wow. Being pregnant and swooning over your loved one hit differently.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “It's supposed to be a family-friendly dinner. You can't go like this, young man!”

He laughed loudly as he walked lazily to you, your eyes still trained on his toned stomach. Damn. “Hey, beauty,” he whispered once he was standing right in front of you, your face now looking up at him. “Let me clean up that drool on your chin.” Smirking like a total flirt that he was, he leaned in and he poked out his tongue, running it up your chin before he pushed it into your mouth, your silent gasp only encouraging him more. His hold on your cheek was gentle, feather-like whilst his kiss was dirty; the exact opposite. You didn't need to be told twice.

Grabbing him by the neck, you pushed him towards you, his body now pressed up against you and your small belly, a delicious moean leaving your mouth when he wrapped his other hand around the low of your back, squeezing you.

“You are so sensitive to my touches. I really like you like this,” he whispered into your panting mouth. You opened your eyes just a little bit; his kiss made you lose your senses for a second.

“Aching, throwing up, gaining weight, all of it?” you murmured as you stroked his cheek.

His eyes were wild, yet so affectionate. “All of it,” he confirmed as he leaned back in to steal another kiss.

“Wait,” you quickly said and pecked him on the lips as an apology. He gave you a curious look. “I think…” you trailed off, too shy to say what was on your mind, “that I shouldn't be kissing you. Also, you shouldn't walk like this here anymore. The more pregnant I am, the more…” gulp, “I want from you,” you said so quietly, Baekhyun unconsciously leaned in with his ear by your mouth.

He chuckled and bit his lower lip. “You mean you are more horny?”

You nodded, blush creeping up your cheeks. “I don't think you can imagine what I have in mind.”

“Oh, I think I do know.”

You shook your head but he continued: “My sweetest sweetheart,” he murmured and he made it a point to press his hips into yours as much as possible, given the belly was growing to be quite the restriction between you two. “I put three babies into you,” he murmured in your ear, his words and hot breath sending electric shocks into your southern parts. “Don't think I can't live up to your horny expectations. Nor do think I am not craving you every single fucking day. Because I do,” he sighed and pressed a wet kiss on the side of your neck. “You just look irresistible, and when you're naked… fuck,” his voice trembled, and his hand was already under your shirt, exploring, cupping, caressing, making you a moaning mess. Your head fell backwards in ecstasy and he sucked on the exposed skin on your collarbones. “So if you want three rounds,” he said and straightened up a bit to give you a lustful look, “I will give you three rounds. Each round for one baby.”

You were fast to throw yourself at him, kissing him desperately, needing him to satisfy the ache that only he was able to. The towel he had around his neck fell, his wet hair very slightly dripping still.

Thankfully, you were in the bedroom already. Gently placing you on the bed, Baekhyun crawled up and above you, while his hands were pushing up his shirt you were wearing since you couldn't stand anything that would restrict your movements). Your hands were fumbling with his jeans, but Baekhyun was faster and took them off along with his underwear while you pulled the shirt over your head, and discarded the panties. Bra was also something you wore as little as possible, your breasts being achy and growing, a bra was very uncomfortable. You had yet to go to some markets to get bigger sized bras for a cheaper price.

Baekhyun was back at your lips right away, his fingertips teasingly making their way down the side of your body, starting from your breasts, to the hips all the way to your butt before he hooked his arms under on knee. His other hand wandered off to the parts you needed him the most, by then practically begging him to just move on.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, awed, “so no foreplay needed anymore, hm?” he purred, as he felt you dripping.

“Please,” you wailed, and he enjoyed himself way too much for your liking. “I will get seriously hurt if you keep the teasing up.”

That made him pay attention to you. “What? Is something hurting? What-”

You raised your head and laughed into his scared face before you put the knee he was holding around his waist, followed with your other leg and pressed him into you, the pressure building up. “I will hurt, if you won't do something,” you breathed loudly.

“Don't scare me like that,” he chastised, frowning momentarily as he brought his hand up to your cheek, into which you leaned in. Eventually, his features softened, and he whispered: “I will take care of you, mummy.”

You were so surprised at the word, you could barely gasp when he finally entered you, his forehead pressed to yours, your hand interlaced with his. He wanted to give you time, worries about hurting you or the babies forever present in his mind, but he barely made it inside and you were begging for more. He would lie if he would have said he didn't like it.

“You're so hot,” he rasped, hiding his face in your neck.

“And you're too slow.”

He laughed into your skin, biting you. “Impatience doesn't take you anywhere.”

You met his hips eagerly and you held his face, your eyes fluttering close. “Exactly. So work,” you said, letting out another wanton moan when he did as you wished. He would do anything you wanted him to, because you were pretty much his everything.

He brought you over the edge sooner than later, helping you ride out the ecstasy as if his dangerous kisses earlier didn't already cast a spell on you. He followed you soon, but you were nowhere near finished.

Before he had time to get back to his senses, you bit his shoulder teasingly, humming. “Darling, again.”

You meant it when you said your horny self was different from your usual one, and Baekhyun was definitely up for a ride except-

There was a knock on your door, followed by a doorbell.

Both of you froze, still panting loudly, still very much high on the quick love you just made.

“It's-”

“Sukyeong,” you finished, cursing before Baekhyun gave you a pointed look, still not moving from your naked body.

“No cursing with babies-”

“Baekhyun!” you said, “you need to move!”

“But the next round-”

You let out a loud laugh before giving him a loud peck. “If there is anyone frustrated, it's me, trust me,” you said as he slowly fell next to you and you sat up, seeing the mess you just made.

He reached to the floor next to the mattress handing you tissues.

Murmuring a thanks, you quickly wiped yourself up and put back the wrinkled shirt that was discarded so carelessly before.

Standing up, you felt a bit sore which made you sit back for a minute just when another loud knock sounded. Few seconds later, your phone was ringing. “Coming!” you shouted. You phone stopped ringing.

Baekhyun chuckled from behind you, still lying there, now covered with the bed sheets. “You look like you have been properly fuc-”

“Don't. Say. It,” you murmured.

He laughed and sat up, kissing the little piece of skin that was not covered on your shoulder. “Hurting?”

You nodded and turned your head to see him, still very needy but thankfully, you weren't as frustrated as you thought you would have been.

“Sorry, should have been a bit gentler,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck.

You snorted. “Are you really sorry though?” you asked, and when you saw his mischievous smile, you got the answer. Pecking him quickly, he leaned into you, attempting to prolong the kiss. “I really have to open the door,” you sighed, “once were are back from the company dinner tonight, you are all mine, you hear me?”

He stared into your eyes for a while, soft smile playing on his lips. “I love you.” His hand was caressing your belly from behind.

You felt like you could burst from happiness. “I love you, too.”

One hour later and you were standing in front of the mirror with baggy dress on that Sukyeong got from her older sister who used it during her pregnancy. The dress made you… a bit huge.

“You should wear a long sweater too, hm?” she said, as she took the mentioned piece and circled it around you, placing it on your shoulders. “It should be big enough to divert the attention from your belly,” she murmured in a low voice, knowing that Baekhyun was in the tiny apartment and had no clue about your sneaky plan of hiding your stomach.

You gulped and looked yourself over in the mirror. “It's good enough,” you managed to say.

“You look cute!” chuckled Sukyeong, covering her mouth.

“Is Chen coming sa well?” Baekhyun appeared at the door.

“He is! He will meet us at the restaurant since he is busy,” she replied with a smile, looking at your boyfriend. He nodded when his eyes looked you over for the first time. You weren't sure if you expected any reaction from him but what he gave you was not what you… expected.

“Nice dress,” he murmured, the slightest of frowns knitting his eyebrows together. “I thought you are wearing one of your other dresses.”

Sukyeong looked at me, little panic bubbling in her big eyes.

“Well, you know how I don't like anything that is hugging my body anymore,” you replied truthfully, meeting his gaze bravely. His lazy posture leaning against the doorframe, eyes raking up your body… ah, ah, he was too hot for you. Why were you this horny?!

“It diverts the attention from the bruise that you gave her!” snapped Sukyeong playfully.

You blushed while Baekhyun looked more than proud. “Oh please, I will hide it with makeup,” you said quickly, “but anyway, how did you ever know that I am pregnant?” you asked and then looked at Baekhyun to clarify: “She followed me to the toilet couple of days ago when I threw up at work and she just said she knew I was pregnant!” you exclaimed with a shocked smile.

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, curious.

“Please!” Sukyeong waved her hand. “I could smell baby all over you! I noticed your boobs and your morning sickness,” she giggled. “You know, woman's sense. But wow, you are actually expecting three babies... “

You stepped to Baekhyun, hiding your face in his chest out of embarrassment, while he laughed, caressing your back. “So if you noticed, it means others had to notice,” you mumbled but quickly realised you shouldn't go to those waters. Straightening back up, you checked the clock: “We should really finish getting ready! We will be late!”

The dinner was taking place at a very posh restaurant. You almost felt out of place in your huge, baggy dress and sweater. Well, at least you lived up to the fact that you were a penniless mother-to-be.

Hands intertwined with Baekhyun's under the table, your boss was on your left at the head of the long table that was filled with colleagues from your department while Sukyeong was opposite you with Chen right next to her. Everyone was in a pleasant conversation except you, because you were your boss's direct assistant and if he didn't talk, you definitely didn't feel like talking.

Baekhyun raised his fork to your mouth to try the meat with sauce and you smiled up at him, gratefully chewing on the tender meat. He winked at you, satisfied when he saw you eating well. You just prayed he wouldn't say something related to your state, because then it would be… very bad.

“Oh, so cute,” cooed you boss from your other side and it made you snap your eyes to him. He didn't sound so genuine. “Aren't you two sweet. Does your boyfriend always treat you this well?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

You exchanged quick looks with Sukyeong who smiled at your reassuringly. “Yes, always.”

“And you don't want to marry this man?” he asked, laughing.

You froze for a moment and you felt Baekhyun did, too. Feeling the nerves bubbling up in your stomach, suddenly it was churning in anxiety.

“I can't get her to say yes, sir,” replied Baekhyun simply, chuckling to ease up the situation.

You gasped, widening your eyes at your boyfriend. “When did you ever ask?”

Your boss shrugged, amused. “As long as it does not keep her away from her work.”

You bit your lip hoping Baekhyun didn't hear the remark, but when you saw him giving your boss a deadly look, you knew things were turning the wrong way.

You felt another strong pull in your stomach, and you just knew it was coming. Blood was draining from your face and you stood up slowly, trying not to cause a ruckus. Baekhyun gave you a questioning look laced with worry, and you simply whispered: “Toilet.”

He nodded once, and held your hand until he had to let go.

Once you knew you are out of sight, you took off, running quickly to the bathroom, barely making it into the stall, before the entire dinner came out. Since you just ate, you couldn't stop throwing up, retching sounds along with crampings of your stomach making it impossible to even sit down.

You flushed, heaving out a breath as you attempted to sit down before nausea overtook you again, making you gag and crawl back to the bowl. “Shit! Make it stop,” you whined quietly, tears streaming down your face as you tried to calm down.

“So, are you really not thinking of marrying any time soon?” spoke your boss to Baekhyun.

“Well, right in this instant we aren't,” he said slowly, not liking an inch the tone your boss was using, “but given our situation, we should do it as soon as it would be possible, right?”

Your boss gave him a surprised look and Baekhyun failed to notice the panic in Sukyeong's eyes when she sensed the direction of the conversation. “What situation?”

Baekhyun blinked once before smiling gently at the thought. “Well, we are expecting three next spring.”

Silence took over your part of the table. Sukyeong abruptly stood up, startling Chen and rushing to search for you, while your boss glared at Baekhyun. “Expecting three? You mean my personal assistant is pregnant?”

Baekhyun, unsure, nodded. “Yes. She is 14 weeks in.”

“What?” he snapped, startling everyone around the table.

Baekhyun frowned but didn't have time to respond, because your boss was looking at someone behind you, angry veins on his neck.

“Baekhyun,” you hissed, but it was too late. Trying not to faint right in front of everyone, you took your boyfriend by his hand but he stood up right away once he saw your pale face.

“You threw up again?” he asked quietly not happy seeing you like that.

Sukyeong nodded eagerly in reply.

“This is probably the last time we are seeing each other,” you heard your boss from the table, and your chin quivered. Baekhyun and Sukyeong both glared at him. “Since you signed the contract promising not to get impregnated but you obviously couldn't do even that!” he spit. “I knew you would be trouble!” he shouted, standing up and coming close to you. Baekhyun was fast to stand in front of you, storm clouding his eyes while Sukyeong gasped, squeezing your hand.

“Move, Mr Byun,” snapped you boss. “I need to talk to my personal assistant.”

You gulped, your throat still painful from throwing up. But Baekhyun wasn't moving an inch. “You talk to my girlfriend under my supervision only,” he said, his tone deep in warning. “Do not dare talk to her that way.”

“I hope you know that you don't need to be polite with me anymore,” retorted your boss and sent daggers your way. “Young people really can't keep it in their pants these days. Having kids without marriage? Disgusting! But even worse? You are useless and pregnant.”

You squealed when Baekhyun landed a painful punch straight into your boss's face. You grabbed your boyfriend by his arm, trying to stop him. “Wait, Baekhyun, you know you cannot get into a fight!” you said just as he was about to land another punch.

Chen was by your side in a minute, dragging outraged Baekhyun away and you were hot on their heels as you tried to avoid people's intense stares.

Outside on fresh, chilly air, Baekhyun shrugged Chen off, fuming as he turned to you suddenly. “What the fuck just happened!”

You tried not to flinch at his voice, instead getting angry at him. “Are you nuts?! You know you cannot fight outside of your classes! Are you trying to get yourself expelled?!”

He was a hapkido master. Although not strictly, but if someone found out he used his trained strength against someone, his PhD title he was working so hard for could go to waste. And his teaching job as well. Basically, his entire career.

“This isn't about me!” he snapped. “I can't just stand there listening to him talking about you like that!” He was livid. “And what promise was your boss talking about? Was what I heard true?!”

When you weren't replying, your quivering chin was saying it all. Chen was next to Baekhyun to calm him down once again, while Sukyeong tried to calm you down as tears were rolling down your cheeks, your head extremely dizzy. “Yes, you heard correctly! He made me promise I won't get pregnant!”

“For what reason?” he laughed humorlessly as he ran his hands through his hair. “Why the fuck did you even agree to it?”

“Guys,” started Chen with a pleading voice, “you should go home and resolve it there. Baekhyun, your girlfriend is not well,” he added gently, nudging his friend to bring him to his senses.

Baekhyun went silent, taking in your shaky figure, teary cheeks and pale face. He hated the view. Heck, he despised it so much, more so because you were crying mostly because of his outburst. But he couldn't stand you being mistreated like that! And were you hiding stuff from him?

“We are going home, young lady,” he said, his voice uncomfortably levelled. “You have lots of explaining to do.”

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun smut #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun au #baekhyun scenario #kpop au #kpop scenario #exo scenario #exo fanfiction #exo au #my writings

191 notes · View notes

98prilla · 4 years

Text

Unwanted

Listened to Logan’s playlist, so naturally, had to write some angst because oh boy does he need some love. I might write a follow up to this, if you guys want one, let me know!

AO3

...

“Logan.” He startles at the voice. He hadn’t heard anyone knock, hadn’t heard the door open, though it must have.

He's sitting at his desk, papers stacked and sorted neatly, the schedule in front of him, which he is comparing to the calendar on his computer, compiling the two, making sure all birthdays and holidays are listed, all social events and commitments and activities and work sessions are allotted time. Trying to make Thomas's schedule line up with their schedule, so the best suited to handle each potential situation is on hand should they be needed.

It’s a headache and a nightmare but it’s his job, and he doesn’t mind it, truly. Finds it to be like a complex puzzle, rearranging and reworking the pieces until they snap together with a satisfying click.

But he finds himself wondering more and more one simple question: why?

Why keep making a schedule that will inevitably and always be tossed out the window? Why make and arrange plans when they will never be followed through on? Why keep speaking if no one is listening, why keep showing up if nobody cares, why is he needed at all?

He isn’t, is the simple answer. The logical answer. So why does it hurt, to think of himself as unwanted, unnecessary, unneeded? He doesn’t have emotions. He doesn’t care. He is logic, he is a robot, he has always been a cold amalgamation of science and fact and blunt objectivism.

A heart can’t break if it doesn’t exist to begin with.

“Logan-"

“What?” He snaps, not looking up from his work, one hand rubbing his temple, the other tapping a pen against his chin idly in thought. “I have work to do, Deceit.” His eyes are blurring and he doesn’t think he’s actually comprehended what he’s looking at for the past five minutes, but it isn’t a lie. He has work to do.

“You need rest. It can wait.” Deceit's voice is soft, inviting, but he shakes his head, regretting it as it starts to dully throb.

“I’ll finish this then go to bed.” He replies, not even sure what he’s saying.

“Logan, it can wait. You’re going to have to redo it in a few days, anyway.” He knows this. Knows that they will ignore the schedule, then wonder why they’re behind on work, and then he would be blamed and have to remake the schedule to fit everything in at the last minute until it became a hurried scramble to get it all finished and he’d be told to plan better next time. This is a fact.

So why does Deceit saying it so casually, admitting out loud that his work means nothing, why does it hurt? He slams the planner shut.

“yes, thank you for enlightening me, Deceit. I already know that my work is extraneous, but I just really needed someone to point out how stupidly useless it is tonight.” He doesn’t know where this angry, heated, bitterness is coming from, but it burns on his tongue and sets his stomach churning as he glares at Deceit, who looks taken aback.

“if you would like to inform me on the proper use of the word infinitesimal or give me flash cards that I try to use to better relate to the others but only succeed in inducing mockery, that would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, I am not in the mood for your company." His head is pounding now, and Deceit is looking at him with complete shock, and he can’t stand this anymore.

“Logan, please-" Deceit reaches out, and he chokes back a bitter laugh, because of course Dee would be the only one who even cared to notice.

“go.” He says lowly, almost a growl. Deceit hesitates. “Go!” he yells, loud and choked and fierce, and Deceit does, fleeing out the door in the face of his anger, which vanishes as quick as it came.

He locks the door, sliding down to the floor, instantly overtaken by sobs as he buries his head in his arms, shaking from the force of them, wheezing as each sob only makes his head pound more, his vision blur and spots dance behind his eyelids, which makes him sob harder, which makes the pain grow. A vicious cycle, which he can’t seem to stop.

Somehow, he manages to crawl his way to the bathroom, making it to the toilet before he throws up, hot tears tracking down his face as he spits the last of the sour bile. His head is resting weakly against the toilet seat, the cool rim balm to his aching, pounding head.

The light is so bright, but he doesn’t have the strength to move to shut it off, the throbbing behind his eyes pounding in time with his pulse, spots of white jumping through his vision as he groans, throwing an arm over his head to block out what he can.

Least listened to. Least appreciated. Least needed. Least loved.

The truths eat at his heart, cloying decay in his chest, acid in his brain because what is the point of even trying? If no one wanted him at his very best, certainly no one would ever want him now.

His head is heavy as the weight of the sun, swimming with stars and explosions of dark light that popped with agony and sends him gasping as his stomach churns. He barely notices the tears anymore, the exhaustion sweeping through him too much to resist, the emotions swirling through him too loud, and he is all too willing to let his mind shut down, if only for a few hours, so he doesn’t have to feel anymore. He wishes he never had to feel, period.

“I can do that.” He doesn’t even have the capability of surprise anymore as gray streaked hair and electric green eyes come into view. “I can help.”

He nods, too tired to do anything else, weakly reaching out a hand. Remus takes it, gently running his thumb over his knuckles, before lifting it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

Logan gasps, feeling… nothing, as everything drains from him. All the hurt and doubt and pain and loathing fades to absolutely nothing, leaving him empty and numb and his mind blessedly absently silent.

“oh, Lolo.” Remus whispers, all the negativity and bad thoughts he’s absorbed from Logan cycling through his mind, and he feels the sting and pain of every one of them as if they were his own, the price of taking them to begin with.

They make him want to tear out his intestine or jam pencils in his eyes or dig and dig and dig in his ears until he reaches his brain and can pull it out one gooey piece at a time, but he doesn’t. He sits, shaking with the effort of not until it passes, and he can focus on Logan, who had so much negativity in that pretty head of his that there had been no room for anything good, as evidenced by his empty, glassy eyed stare, eyes open and unseeing.

“come on, Polaris. Let’s get you taken care of.” He murmurs, pushing back Logan's hair, wincing at the heat of his forehead. Carefully, he scoops Logan up in his arms. Logan doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound, and that worries him more than anything. “Go to sleep, starry night. Everything'll be better in the morning.” Logan's eyes slip closed without more coaxing, limp in his arms. He presses a soft kiss to Logan's forehead, finally getting a response as Logan lets out a soft sigh, head tilting so it rests in the crook of his elbow.

...

He wakes slowly, head pounding, feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton. He tries to move, but the slightest shift sends nausea flipping through his stomach, and he retches, barely feeling someone help him sit up, holding a pail under him. His stomach is empty, but it still takes his body a few long minutes to realize it and stop its violent upheaval.

After a long moment, be slumps back into whoever's arms are supporting him, squeezing his eyes shut against the too bright noise of the room, trying to ignore the shaky tears on his face. He still feels numb, mind a bit fuzzed and unfocused, and he shivers despite the warmth he can feel around him, it isn’t enough.

“Here, starlight. Can you drink something for me?” Someone presses a cup into his shaky hands, helping him raise it to his lips. He manages a few shaky sips before his stomach protests and he shoves the cup away, not wanting another round of pain. He trembles, feeling himself pulled closer to the warmth supporting him. Without thinking, he buries his face against it with a wordless whimper, that movement making his head spin and pulse harder, his hands fisting fabric, squeezing in a futile effort to make the world stop rotating. He feels someone gently running a hand up and down his back, someone crooning softly, gentle pressure as someone rests their head atop his, pressing soft kisses against his hair.

“remus?” he slurs, finally recognizing that voice now that the world was barely wobbling, the darkness of Remus's shirt against his closed lids a blessed relief from the too loud light.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, polaris.” His tongue feels thick and dry, but he forces it to work.

“Polaris?” he hears Remus chuckle softly, a hand brushing back his hair.

“That’s the north star, isn't it? The guiding light in the oceans and oceans of space?” Logan murmurs an affirmative, barely lucid.

“Well, that’s what you are, to me. Steady. Dependable. When everything is too much and too loud, you give me balance. You’re my guiding light, Logan. My Polaris.” Remus murmurs gently, not minding the wet spot he can feel growing on his shirt, instead continuing to rub Logan's back, murmur softly, until he falls back into an exhausted sleep.

Remus looks up as the door quietly opens just enough for Deceit to slip through, closing it quietly behind him.

“Any better?” he asks lowly, frowning as he sits on the bed beside Remus, Logan curled against him, practically on his lap. Remus shakes his head, eyes clouded with worry.

“he woke up for just a bit. Hurled again. Fever's holding steady. Isn’t any worse, at least. Got him to drink a bit of water. He knew it was me and didn’t flip out, so I think we’re good on that account.” Deceit nods, running a hand through his curly, disheveled hair for the thousandth time, wincing as he pulls a knot.

“If we can get some food in him, we could give him a dose of Benadryl, but not on an empty stomach like this, it’d just make it worse. I… gods, what do we do?” he breathes out, tucking another blanket around Logan.

“This. This is what he needs.” Remus answers, looking down at Logan. “I felt it, dee. There was so much. It’s still rattling around up here.” Remus taps his head, biting his lip. “It still hurts, Dee.” Deceit softens, honey eyes meeting Remus's.

“I know. Can I?” he asks, holding open his arms. Remus smiles, carefully shifting Logan out of his lap, the soft sound of protest quickly dying as he is settled against Deceit, who cradles him with all six arms, holding him, rubbing his back, teasing through his hair, stroking his cheek. Logan leans into it all, every touch eliciting a small sigh of happiness, a small breath of relief until the logical side has practically melted against him, as if he hasn’t felt touch in years.

Remus wraps an arm around Dee, holding him as he holds Logan, encasing the two of them in warmth.

“he feels useless, Dee. Unwanted. Unneeded.”

“I know. And we will show him otherwise.” Comes the fervent reply, as Logan stirs uneasily in his sleep.

...

He's not sure he's awake, at first. It’s warm. Cozily warm, and soft and he lets out a small breath as he shifts closer into the warmth, relieved as the world stays stationary, his head barely pounds.

“Logan?” Deceit, he’s being held by Deceit.

“I’m sorry. For yelling at you. I didn’t mean to, I-"

“I know, dearie, it’s ok. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were so sick?” Deceit's hand is carding through his hair, and it feels so good, it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“It was neither important or relevant.” He hears Deceit hiss.

“You… Logan, you were nearly unconscious in the bathroom. You were burning up, you’ve been asleep or out of it for two days, how is that not important or relevant?” his voice is incredulous, and Logan looks up, puzzled.

“it is as you said. Any work I do the others immediately undo, anyways. My purpose is irrelevant. I am irrelevant. Being ill and out of commission for two days is of no consequence. It did not affect Thomas, correct?” he asks, bewildered at the soft horror on Deceit's face.

“No. That’s not true, Logan. I should know. It’s not nothing, not irrelevant. You scared us half to death. We need you. We love you.” He crumbles at the honesty on Deceit's face, and buries himself back against the side, shaking from the silent sobs.

“Did they notice? Did they even care? Did... did anyone try and check on me?” He stammers out, knowing the answer from the hesitation in Deceit’s reply. He feels a second pair of arms wrap around him, not Dee’s.

“I’m gone for five minutes, and you break him!” Remus mutters, practically suffocating him against Deceit’s shirt, but he doesn’t care.

“not his fault... was already broken.” he chokes out between teary gasps, and Remus hugs him tighter, nestling his head against his neck.

“You’re perfect. They’re the broken ones, if they can’t see that. If they can’t see how much you care, if they can’t see how hard you work, if they can’t see that you always, always give one hundred percent of yourself in everything that you do. If they don’t care about you as much as you care about them. If they won’t care for you like they should, I’m never letting go of you again. I’m never letting you feel that way again, Logan.” Remus is sniffling too, and Deceit lets out his extra arms, hugging both of them, kissing their heads.

“Remus is right. You are amazing, Logan. You should be told that more often, be shown that more often. I... you should never think that your existence is meaningless. You mean everything, sweetling.”

“i want to stay. I want to stay with both of you. I want... I want to be listened to, I want to be heard, I want to be appreciated, I don’t care if it’s selfish to want that, but that’s what I want.” he stammers breathlessly, oddly afraid that they will reject him for speaking his mind. When was the last time he said what he wanted out loud?

“It’s not selfish to need love and attention. It’s not selfish to work so hard and then want to share it. You can stay, right, Dee? He can stay?” Remus asks, desperation tinging his voice, because he can’t stand it if Logan has to go back and he has to feel all of that all over again.

“of course he can stay. If you’re sure that’s what you want, Logan. They won’t like it. They may be angry.” He points out. Logan lets out a breathy laugh.

“If they get angry at me leaving, they should have made it clearer they wanted me so badly. And if they blame you for it, I will quickly dissuade them of that notion. I am sure, Deceit. I know it will change things. I know it will change me. But I am sure.” He feels Deceit smile, pressing his lips to his forehead for a long, endless moment.

“alright, dearie. I’ll move your room. But later. Right now, you still need rest. I’m not taking a risk with your safety. I don’t know how much it will affect you, and you need to be at full strength before I move it.” His voice is soft and tender, and Remus squeals excitedly, rocking back and forth with Logan on his lap.

“We can be temporary roomies! I know you probably think I’m a slob, but everything is just as organized as your room! Can’t be storing the spleens with the livers, that just doesn’t work. And, how would I ever tell the blood bags apart if I didn’t sort them properly? I mean, sure, I can taste test, but that’s just a waste of resources if I need to do it every time. And sometimes the positives and negatives are so hard to tell apart, such a nuanced taste.” Remus is surprised as Logan laughs, leaning back against him, looking up at him with teary, happy eyes, a small smile on his lips.

“I wouldn’t mind that. It does sound like you have some rather fascinating experiments going on. I would love to help you compile your data and take notes. I have a feeling you are more interested in the action than the results.” Remus squeals higher, at a practically inaudible level of joy.

“HE WANTS TO HELP! DEE, HE DOESN’T THINK I’M GROSS!” Deceit rolls his eyes.

“So I gathered. I get the feeling you’re going to have a lot of work on your hands, Logan.” He teases gently, Logan’s small smile easing the worry in his chest, untying some of the knots there. He can tell Logan is going to be ok, eventually, now. Remus already adored him, had always loved Logan for never shying away from his thoughts or words, answering all his lewd questions honesty and with thought. Remus would fight tooth and nail to make sure Logan never doubts his worth, never feels unloved. Remus knows well enough how that feels to not wish it on anyone else.

And he understood Logan, himself. He understood doing hard work and being unappreciated, unwanted, unneeded. He knew how hard it was to bottle that all up, to keep going despite it, to get up day after day when you had no one who cared.

But they do. And Logan is here now. And Deceit will make sure he is happy and loved and needed and wanted and knows it, no matter what. No matter what Logan does or doesn’t become. He can imagine, what it will be. But he won’t worry now, not when Logan is smiling and happy and snuggling back against his chest, Remus snuggling tight on his other side. He embraces his two boys, gently wiping the tears away from Logan’s face, the side already starting to drift back to sleep, Remus clinging to him, petting his hair as head slumps against Dee’s shoulder.

“Poor baby, still exhausted. He really needs to eat something, next time he wakes. God knows when the last time he actually slept was.” Deceit murmured, continuing to stroke Logan’s cheek, sensing how badly he needed the contact.

“He’s coming off it. I think he just needs to sleep off the last of it, and he’ll be alright. He’s already better, Dee. So much better.” Remus answers, and he knows that Remus isn’t just talking about Logan’s illness.

“Yes. And we will make sure it only continues to get better from here.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #logan angst #deceit sanders #remus sanders #emotional hurt/comfort #sickfic #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #protective dark sides #angst with a happy ending #pre dark side logan

180 notes · View notes

abrakophile · 3 years

Text

I was looking through a bunch of junk and found some letters from my dad when he was in the army. I’m afraid I'll accidently toss them, so maybe I’ll put them here?

OPs Name JUNE 02 03

I LOVE YOU

THIS IS MY NAME IN KURDISH

*my dad wrote his first and last name, and under it, in Kurdish*

ILL TRY AND FIND OUT HOW TO WRITE YOUR NAME AND MOMS TOO.

ITS STILL HOT. I WORK AND READ BOOKS TO PASS THE TIME AWAY.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? GOOD I HOPE. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? DO YOU EVER HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS? TELL THEM I SAID “WASSUP?” NAH, DONT TELL THEM. TELL ME WHAT YOUR THINKING. I’M TRYING TO SEND YOU SOME MORE OF MY DRAWINGS. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DRAW YOU? DID YOU LIKE THE DRAWING I SENT YOU OF YOU NAME? ITS ALRIGHT IF YOU DIDNY. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DO WANT ME TO DRAW YOU.

(Flip Page)

THIS IS WEIRD! (The page does not have lines on the left side of it) i WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS PIECE OF PAPER. HaHa

I MISS YOU ALOT. PLEASE SOND ME SOME MORE OF YOUR DRAWINGS, YOU CAN DRAW ME ANYTHING YOU WANT TO.

ARE YOU BEING GOOD FOR YOUR MOM? ITS NICE IF YOU HELP HER OUT WHILE I’M AWAY.

HAVE YOU BEEN ANYPLACE NEW? HOW IS SCHOOL GOING FOR YOU? IS MOMMY GOING TO SCHOOL? I KNOW I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I GET BACK. HOPEFULLY I GET THE CHANCE TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THERE IS TO KNOW. THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

ALSO, ID LIKE TO DO SOME FISHING? HOW ABOUT YOU? I GUESS ILL END HERE. BE GOOD AND STAY IN SCHOOL. AND JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS.

THEYRE BAD.

I LIVE YOU OP

*hearts and x’s* DADDY

---

(I don’t know if all these pages are in order or if it’s missing any, but this was the letter in the same stack as the last but this one was for my mom. In some places his indents indicate passage of time.)

I HAVENT HAD ANY TIME TO WRITE SINCE WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE CAN’T SEND MAIL WHEN WE’RE MOVING ALL THE TIME.

WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR ABOUT FIVE OR SIX DAYS, I HAVENT REALLY BEEN COUNTING. I KNOW I TOLD YOU THAT WE’D BE IN KUWAIT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT WAS SO YOU WOULDNT BE WORRIED. I’M GOING TO KEEP THIS LETTER THOUGH, TILL I GET HOME.

ABOUT TWO NIGHTS AGO, WE DROVE THROUGH BAGDHAD, SOMEBODY SAID THAT THERE WERE PILED BODIES, I DONT KNOW IF IT WAS TRUE.

AND I GUESS YESTERDAY, A COUPLE OF PEOPLE SAID THEY SAW A MISSILE OR SOEMTHING SHOT AT US. I WAS TRYING TO FIX A TRUCK SO I DIDNT SEE IT.

ITS NOT AS DUSTY HERE IN IRAQ. IT REMINDS ME OF THE CONVOYS IN KOREA.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE WILL WAVE “HI”. SOME OTHERS DONT.

I SAW A KID OPEN HIS HAND ONCE WHILE MOVING, AND IT SAID “BUSH” THAT WAS KIND OF COOL.

OH YEAH. HERES A STORY. WHILE OUT DOING A MISSION, ONE OF OUR “BRADLEY” TANKS FIRED ON AN ENEMY AMMO TRUCK AND CLIPPED A KID. THE ROUNDS BLEW ONE OF HIS LEGS OFF AND SOME OF THE OTHER, FROM THE KNEE DOWN. SO THE MEDICS PICKED HIM UP AND BROUGHT HIM TO OUR RECONCOLIDATING POINT FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. I GUESS HE EVENTUALLY DIED FROM LOSS OF BLOOD THE NEXT NIGHT AND YESTERDAY THEY TOOK HIM OUT AND BURIED HIM.

ALSO WE PICKED UP ABOUT 25-30 P.O.W.s AND SENT THEM SOUTH.

IT GETS PRETTY COLD AT NIGHT. AND THE DAY’S ARE VERY HOT.

SINCE WE LEFT KUWAIT ITS BEEN ME AND MENDOZA IN THE FIVE TON WRECKER AND I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT ITS BEEN EXCITING. WE KEPT GETTING SEPERATED FROM THE CONVOY AND BREAKING DOWN. BUT I THINK THAT WERE BETTER NOW. HOPEFULLY.

IM STILL WAITING TO BE AMBUSHED TO MAKE ALL THIS SEEM REAL TO ME. A PART OF ME WANTS IT AND ANOTHER DOESNT.

AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY OUR UNIT HAS TO STAY IN UNIFORM, EVERYONE ELSE WEARS T-SHIRTS AND BANDENA’S AND RAGS ON THEIR HEAD

WERE STILL GOING NORTH. NOBODY KNOWS HOW LONG WE’LL STAY. ITS NOT THAT BAD HERE. MEANING, IT COULD BE WORSE.

I USED A “SHIT-CHAIR”. ITS JUST A METAL CHAIR WITH A HOLE CUT IN THE MIDDLE AND THE SEAT FROM A TOILET BOLTED TO IT, GROSS.

HELICOPTERS CAN BE HEARD ALL DAY AND NIGHT. I GOT TO SEE THEM DROP BOMBS ALL DAY ABOUT 3 DAYS AGO, FROM A DISTANCE OF COURSE.

ILL BE DRIVING AGAIN, IN A MINUTE. PROBABLY RE-FUEL AND BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN. IM ENJOYING IT.

I HAVE 8 MAGAZINES FULL OF ROUNDS. NO GRENADES, BUT I LIKE IT LIKE THAT.

SOMETIMES IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT.

I GUESS ILL END IT HERE FOR NOW

I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TWO TWICE IF NOT THRICE AS MUCH AS YOU MIGHT MISS ME TOO.

HELLO AGAIN. WERE SOMEWHERE NEAR TIKRI + MOSUL. YESTERDAY, ME + MENDOZA WENT LOOKING FOR MOMENTO’S. WE BROKE A LOCK TO A NEAR BY BUNKER AND FOUND 6 A.K.47s! BUT ON OUR WAY BACK TO TURN THEM IN, MAJOR TATU GOT THEM FROM US. I WAS SO PISSED. BUT I GOT A GAS MASK w/ FILTER, A FULL MAGAZINE CLIP FROM ONE OF THE A.K.s AND A BERET WITH IRAQ 1 RANK ON IT.

I MADE A STENCIL FOR THE TRUCK WERE RIDING IN. ITS CALLED THE “GAMBLER.” YESTERDAY MENDOZA DROVE, SO TODAY ILL BE DRIVING.

IM NOT POSITIVE, BUT, I THINK WERE GOING TO TURKEY. NIETO SAYS THAT HE OVERHEARD SOMEBODY FROM S1 (or SI, I’m not sure) SAYING WE MIGHT GET PAID EXTRA FOR GOING THROUGH BAGHDAD.

I THINK NIETO’S MAD AT ME. CANT EXPLAIN WHY. MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM RIDING WITH MENDOZA AND HE DOESNT LIKE MENDOZA TOO MUCH. OH WELL, WHATEVER REASON, HOPE THINGS GET NORMAL AGAIN. HAVE TO GO,

*hearts and xs*

TODAY IS THE 25th OF APRIL, I RECEIVED FIVE OR SIX (OR SEVEN) LETTERS YESTERDAY. THE LATEST WAS DATED 07 OF APRIL. THAT TELLS ME THAT ITS GOING TO TAKE A WHILE TO COMMUNICATE.

WE HAVENT RECEIVED MAIL BECAUSE WEVE BEEN MOVING NEVER STAYING IN ONE PLACE MORE THAN A DAY, OR TWO, UNTIL NOW. WE’VE BEEN IN THIS SPOT GOING ON FOUR DAYS TOMORROW?!

GIVE ME A MINUTE...

FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS IVE BEEN HELPING MENDOZA PULL THE ENGINE OUT OF A 5 TON TRUCK AND SWITCH IT w/ ANOTHER ONE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY BUT THE FLY WHEEL SEIZED UP INSIDE THE BELL HOUSING. ITS FINISHED NOW AND THE RUMOR IS WE’RE LEAVING (OR MOVING) AGAIN TOMORROW.

ITS 10:33 THURSDAY MORNING. YOUR TIME IS 12:32 JUST TURNING THURSDAY.

I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I SAW ELIS PICTURE. I REALLY MISS BOTH OF YOU. LET ME BACK TO BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SEND MAIL BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN MOVING. BUT I GUESS THAT WHATEVER THREAT THERE WAS (IF ANY), ISNT SO THREATFUL ANYMORE, WE CAN START RECEIVING AND SENDING MAIL. NO PHONE TO CALL FROM, AND NO INTERNET TO E-MAIL FROM.

THE WHOLE UNIT IS SCATTERED, SO EVEN IF I GET WHAT YOU NEED IT’LL TAKE FOREVER TO GET IT TO YOU. LET ME PULL THOSE LETTERS BACK OUT. OH WAIT. I DID LAUNDRY AND SOME UNDERWEAR THATS DRY, FELT HARD, OH WELL, WAIT A SECOND, K

I HAD TO FOLD SOME T-SHIRTS. ALL MY SOCKS ARE STILL DAMP.

YOU CAN USE MY CONTRACT TO SHOW THAT I ENLISTED IN TEXAS AND HOWS THIS

*On a separate sheet my dad wrote a detailed note for my mom to give to someone to confirm that he did want to buy a house. He writes “I AM ALIVE AND WELL.” and “PLEASE ACCEPT THIS PAPER”, then he signed it with his scribble signature, and underneath it wrote his name in print and added “1st SQUADRON 10th CAVALRY HEADQUARTERS TROOP (I have no clue what this means)*

HOW’S THAT? HOPE I SPELLED EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. IM ALMOST READY WITH A DESIGN TO COVER THE OTHER TATTOOS ON MY LEFT FOREARM.

I JUST FINISHED LOOKING OVER ALL THOSE LETTERS YOU SENT FOR ME

IM BACK! I GOT SLEEPY SO I TRYED TO LAY DOWN FOR A LITTLE BIT. NO SLEEP. I DONT THINK. I DIDNT HAVE ENOUGH WATER TO WASH MY DCV’S AND A PAIR OF BDV’S. BESIDES FOR DRINKING WATER, BUT WE HAVE TO CONSERVE IT.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE RUMORS. TOMORROW WE’LL BE LEAVING FOR THE IRAN/IRAQ BORDER TO DO “PEACE KEEPING” FOR 3 TO 6 mths. OTHERS SAY THAT THE 4ID (i think is what this says) GENERAL WANTS TO KEEP US HERE TILL NOV., THATS WHEN 1 CAV WILL COME TO REPLACE US. WHILE OTHERS SAY WE MIGHT LEAVE BY JUNE. NOTHINGS FOR SURE.

SMALLER RUMORS FLOATING AROUND THE SITE ARE; RAMSEY AND SFC BACON ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER. SGT SIREK HAS PLANS TO TAKE NIETO AS HIS APPRENTICE AND PADIWAN LEARNER OF THE DARK SIDE. LITTLE BLACK ARNOLD IS MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FOR SPECIAL FORCES OPERATING UNDER COVER A SURVEILLENCE AS PART OF

*the rest of the page is blank*

IM BACK. TODAY IS THE 27th. I GOT BACK TO THE LITTLE CAMP AREA ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. I LEFT YESTERDAY MORNING TO, WELL, AS PART OF DE-CON (DE-CONTAMINATION) MISSION. HERES THE INFORMATION THAT I GATHERED.

A SITE HAD BEEN FOUND THAT WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE CHEMICAL WEAPONS AND 1-10 WAS APPOINTED TO GO TO THE SITE AND DE-CON THE CIVILIANS THAT WERE GOING TO OPEN THEM. AS IT TURNS OUT THE CIVILIANS HAVE BEEN DE-LAYED AND WOULD BE SET BACK 1 DAY.

THE NBC TEAM THAT I WAS WITH WERENT PREPARED TO STAY OVER NIGHT AND AS FORCASTED BY SSG MINOR WE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO STAY 3 TO 4 DAYS. EVERYBODY WAS PISSED.

LATELY ITS BEEN GETTING REALLY COLD AT NIGHT AND WE JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEAR A RUNNING RIVER. SO THE, ITS ABOUT 9 O’CLOCK AND IM BEAT, NO SLEEPING BAG OR ANYTHING TO COVER UP WITH AND I DECIDE TO TRY AND SLEEP. I GET AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE AND I GET ATTACKED BY MOSQUITOS. NOW IM PISSED SO I DECIDED TO JUST TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT. ABOUT 10PM ONE OF THE HEMTT (this might just say “hemi”, I don’t know) FUELERS SHOWS UP AND SGT TORRES SAYS HE HAS EVERYBODYS SLEEPING BAG! THE SITES ABOUT 45 MINS AWAY AND THEY LEFT SOMETIME MID AFTERNOON TO GET OUR SHIT, I HATE THESE PEOPLE.

RIGHT NOW ITS 9:01 PM AND ITS 11:02 AM YOUR TIME. I MISS YOU.

RIGHT NOW IM GOING TO ADDRESS AN ENVELOPE AND HAVE IT READY TO SEND TOMMOROW THE 28th. IM SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT IM NOT WRITING VERY OFTEN. FOR A WHILE WE COULDN’T. AND NOW THAT IT SEEMS WE MIGHT BE HERE A LITTLE WHILE, THEYVE KEPT ME REALLY BUSY. LET ME ADDRESS THE ENVELOPES (he drew a star here)

ALL DONE. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE A LOT TODAY AND YESTERDAY. IM SURE BY THE TIME THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, YOU’LL HAVE EITHER GOTTEN IT OR GAVE IT UP. IM O.K. WITH EITHER DECISION YOUVE MADE.

YOUVE KEPT THIS FAMILY TOGETHER, AND THAT MAKES ME PROUD. YOUR SMART, ATTRACTIVE AND FUNNY. AND YOU DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM ANYBODY. I LOVE YOU.

I HOPE THAT OUR DAUGHTER TURNS OUT TO BE LIKE YOU.

I GUESS ILL MAIL THIS TOMORROW, FIRST THING, SO

EVER YOURS

EVER MINE

*my dad signed it with his scribble, and wrote his name under it. under that are hearts and x’s with my mom’s name and then my name under hers.*

#very personal but where the fuck am i gonna put them? you know where i kinda cant lose them?#letters from the guy that was my dad #pt 1 #long post

3 notes · View notes

blairlocke · 4 years

Text

Anywhere-But-Here: Amahlia & Johnny, Chapter Two

Camping alone was a bad idea. She held onto her Kapotasana pose, the backbend giving her a wide, but traumatizing view of the road that led to her driveway. Even at one o’clock in the afternoon, everything definitely looked more menacing when it was flipped upside down. And though she had seen no source of movement, she continued to scan her field of vision from her current position, as a pretzel. And there it was again. This time, she was able to discern the general direction of the indistinctive noise she had heard before, and more demonstrative. A slight scuffling? In the brush to the left?

It was hard to be sure. One thing was for certain. Camping alone had been a very bad idea. There was a healthy loneliness to camping that had appealed to her. She had camped every summer with her family, practically from birth until graduation, and had gone on camping sabbaticals with friends in college, and then with Matthew a half a dozen times, though he preferred staying in a cabin, which. to her mind, didn’t really count. So, when she had been pondering her upcoming weekend with her officemates, whom all seemed to be going to one affair or another, the thought had just popped into her head. Camping? And that’s when she realized to her astonishment that she had never gone camping by herself. Hiking, yes. But camping? The thought had seemed to nag at her, filling her with the first sense of urgent excitement she had felt in what could have been months, maybe even years. Being the true crime buff that she was, the idea of going by herself gave her the sort of momentary pause one gets before climbing into a roller coaster car. Sure, a fair amount of girls whom had gone off to run or shop or bike or walk or gone off to bed, on their own, had by some terrible stroke of bad luck, never come back, or come back in very separate pieces, and her luck was proving to be questionable right now...wait, how had she thought this would be a good idea? Oh, that’s right. She had then gone on to convince herself that she could take care of herself. Wow...the relief...the logic...the foolishness.

Her stomach had gone sour.

Well, this is the wilderness. Perhaps it’s just wildlife. It sounded too small to be a bear...or a mountain lion. But maybe squirrels? Raccoons? Birds?? A girl could hope.

She unwound herself, immediately bounding to her feet and across the small space to her little two-man dome tent. Just inside the zipper door, without looking she reached in to grasp for the bat, which she had tucked there for peace of mind on her first solo excursion. She felt its rubber grip, feeling up its neck to the warm aluminum, and pulled it free. She really hoped that it was a squirrel. A really big, fat adorable squirrel.

*****

The day was a gorgeous one. It was the kind of day that The Temptations had sung about. The kind of pretty that if it were a girl, her measurements would be 36-24-36 and she would be dressed in nothing but a bikini, cherry red lipstick, and a luscious-lipped smile.

Still, his face remained firmly as placid as an iced over lake. The glance he gave the bushes, which seemed to be moving, was an innocuous one. Not curious, merely accessing.

“What the fuck?” he said it to himself, but the words garnered him some attention from the man that squatted behind some bushes at a campsite that Johnny was passing. His blond hair glinted in the sunlight, as he paused in mid step and pivoted, all of a sudden every bit interested--a snake sensing a lizard. But, in the space of a millisecond, there was no man, only brush playing in the wind. The campsites afforded a modicum of privacy with rough foliage allowed to creep in from every side, but the one meeting the road, and especially this one by the look of it. He heard rather than saw that someone had picked up on its peeping Tom because they called out, “Hello?” A woman’s voice. Johnny continued his path towards the showers. He reeked of fish bait and sweat. The day was cooler than the day before, but only barely. Why had he decided on a fishing weekend in August?

Excellent and reasonable question, but he was not feeling very reasonable just now. He had bigger fish to fry than sparring it out with logic. Oh, yeah. No fish for his trouble did not help sweeten his disposition. And after ten minutes in a frigid and highly pressurized shower, his mood had gone from icy to thunderous, though he did smell better.

“Oomph!”

“Fuck!” He had suddenly collided with someone coming into the doorway of the men’s room in a rush, and just as he was heading out.

“Oh, sorry.” It was a woman. That much he knew before they had shoved away from each other, and before her voice gave her away. “Oh good, I won’t have to sneak in. I was wondering if you could grab a roll of toilet paper for the ladies room. It’s completely empty.” And then, there was a beat as they took each other in.

“Oh.” She sounded startled, even though her response to him was barely above a whisper. “Hi.” It was her. The woman whom had used his phone to call a tow truck. It had been a few weeks, and she looked somehow more glowing, which suddenly had him thinking that she had likely been ill before, because while she had been pretty to him, now, she looked like Helen of Troy come to slay him.

He so did not need this. Let it be some other siren, and the man some other numbnuts. He was all out of fucks to give when the only price left to pay was his sanity, and sometimes that didn’t seem so far off. So he fixed her with a noncommittal, and unyielding stare, and then brushed past her.

“It’s all yours,” he threw back coldly.

He wished that the wind would pull itself together, for not even a huff stirred to dry off the dampness of his skin, a combination of cool sweat and a flush that seemed to make his cheeks hum like a furnace.

If only her lips weren’t burning holes in his brain with their rosey advertisement of a bedroom’s true purpose, like a gavel banging a verdict of guilt and lasciviousness.

If only her voice were higher pitched, like some Minnie Mouse, instead of the trill of some film noir detective’s old flame, her pitch that of midnight, both dark and chocolatey. Where she might be sweet, but likely tasted of rich molten lava.

If only only her form hadn’t now been briefly memorized by his hands, accidentally in their crashing into one another, but it was enough to make out her curviness, however slight that she might appear.

He was so hard that he could beat the birds away.

“Fuck.” For the fourth time in some 20 minutes, he cursed to himself. “Fuck this.”

*****

The moonlight seemed only a small orb like a distant lamplight glowing through fog. The clouds parted, unmasking the stars which glared fiercely down at her, glinting like tiger’s eyes. The air could scarcely spare a chill, the steamy smell of coming rain mixed with too much warmth, and it seemed an effort to breathe in the thick and dogged swelter.

She threw her ancient mystery novel towards her equally worn backpack, which was also servicing as a nightstand of sorts. She had taken the rain fly off of the tent in order to get more airflow, and to admire the stars, but, she thought that she had better put it back on before the sky let itself go. A flash of lightning hurried her action.

It was just beginning to sprinkle when she was climbing back inside her small shelter. She had a small inflatable mattress that would keep her up off the tent floor, which was bound to be a good thing if this was the size of summer’s end storm that sometimes crept up in the night.

It was strange that she had seen the bartender. Especially so soon after she had heard those noises from the bushes, but could it just be a coincidence? She supposed so. And certainly, it was not the last person that she had wanted to see. As a matter of fact, if she was being completely honest with herself, she had not minded seeing him again. She found their interactions odd, but charged somehow.

Yes, that was the right word. Her head tilted itself contemplatively. Her lips pursed. Awareness. That’s what there was between them. A natural awareness...of what, she was not so sure. No, he wasn’t responsible for the noises from earlier. Somehow she just knew that he was not a threat. To her peace of mind, and sense of comfort, maybe. But he wasn’t creepy. He was, however, annoyed. She wasn’t even sure if that had as much to do with her, or just that he was a morose person. He begged all sorts of questions to her mind, and she was hard pressed further to figure out why he should seem so interesting to her. But he was. It did not hurt that, even though he was clearly older than her by maybe 10 years, maybe even more, he had beautiful and chiseled features. He had obviously been a pretty boy in his youth, made more interesting by a long aquiline nose, and as a man now likely in his forties, the small lines on his face around his eyes gave away that, at one time, he must have laughed. Maybe a lot. The sweep of his cheekbones and curve of his jaw was like a sculptor would trace for an immortal, portraying the kind of beauty that usually did not come to life.

Okay, so he was very attractive. That was not her question. Her question was, what the hell was wrong with him that he stared her down as if she were a pesky stray dog, and yet, the air around them seemed to melt her flesh off and her very blood was suddenly made of acid. She wondered if he was a good kisser. He certainly had the lips for it. His lower lip was so full that he looked perpetually pouty.

The question that kept running circles in her mind was, what had made him have that forlorn look in his eyes, as if the world had finally done his spirit in, and he was barely able to keep in motion. All pretense was dropped where he was concerned. As the saying went, he had no fucks left to give. She read a coldness in his eyes, but it had the look of being put there by some unspeakable amount of pain, rather than it being innate. She wondered what gave her that idea. She was no psychic, and he certainly hadn’t divulged one detail about himself, not even his name, come to think of it. But she just felt it. She knew that the feeling could be no more backed up by evidence than one given a poison apple. How to prove it without taking a bite? And, in return, risk having the bite taken out of you.

She drifted off to sleep with the foggy thought of perhaps becoming a more frequent patron of his bar. It was no surprise when that night she dreamed of snakes, the bar’s neon sign pledging the words The Pit and featuring a Cobra curling around the P, its mascot slithering through her uneasy brain.

#fictionanywhere-but-here

1 note · View note

sickybubbies · 5 years

Text

No food for me

BTS AU: Medical student Hoseok finds it hard to stomach any food after his graphic studies. Luckily, roommate Namjoon is there with some tummy rubs

Collab with the amazing @featherypromises

TW: Emeto

Jung Hoseok was finishing his notes from the previous slide in the empty lab. He had completed surgery practicals on animals, but he was moving onto cadavers... the slides alone made him queasy. The discoloration and the... appearance of the veins... and the blood pooling before it was removed...

Hoseok spun away from the projected images as a small amount of vomit filled his mouth. He swallowed with difficulty. His breathing was labored. He had to get over this or he'd never become a successful doctor.

A sigh was heard from afar. His roommate Kim Namjoon, majoring in AI (Artificial Intelligence) stood there with an oppressed look on his face, arms crossed “Yah, why don’t you call it a night already”

Hoseok grimaced, Kim Namjoon was every parents' dream child. He was a born leader, a talented artist, spoke 4 languages, and he was brilliant! He heard that Joonah was in the top 1% of tested students in South Korea. Hoseok couldn't even hate him for it. The boy worked hard.

He sighed, glaring daggers at him anyway.

"Go away smarty-pants, some of us have to study."

Namjoon paid no heed, swinging a chair out before climbing on it, hugging its back rest. He twists the screen, a foul look on his face with a mutter under his breath “ugh..grim”

He turned to his roommate, pulling the papers out of his hands and flicking through them with an approved nod. “Come on you glum. Some of us have to eat you know” he taps his head with the documents “I got take-out for two”

Hoseok felt his stomach flip at the mere mention of the other f word. He swallowed and shut his eyes against the glowing images on the wall. Hoseok shuddered at the memory of the grotesque images.

"You just save the other portion... I don't think I'll be hungry... for the rest of my life."

“Hmm” Namjoon hummed, stroking his chin with his index and thumb. Swiftly walking around his friend, before holding him by the shoulders and pulling him to a stand. Already shoving him out the door “Let’s say you owe me one, so you can eat it to do the least sunshine boy” He chuckled

Hoseok groaned,

"Were you even speaking Korean just now?"

He let his roommate force him bodily from the room.

“Well, someone’s left their brain behind” Namjoon jokes, sat at the table and ridding the food of the poly bags. He takes out each container of delicacies like kimchi, pork belly, black bean noodles and his most craved. Blood ox soup. Rubbing his hands in excitement and takes the chopsticks, splitting it in half and launching the food into his mouth “eat up buddy”

Hoseok couldn't even look at it.

He stood and mumbled about going to the restroom. He held his breath. Ugh…

“Hob-ah! Come have a bite” He twirled his chopsticks around, frowning in concern that his friend was barely eating anything these days. Dunking the chopsticks into the soup he picks a piece of meat, getting to his feet and holding it before the latter’s mouth, a hand ducked underneath it “Hobi say ahh”

Hoseok feels tears well up in his eyes and clamps a hand over his mouth and races to their half bathroom in their room. His feet slip and he falls but his hands catch the rim of the toilet. He pulls himself up and retches his back arching violently.

Namjoon froze. Trying to comprehend the situation, did he do something wrong?

He thought to himself, tilting his head a little with his brows pinched in worry till a loud retch sounded through the apartment.

“Shit” he cussed, quickly darting to the bathroom to see Hoseok hauled over the toilet seat miserably

Hoseok winced at the pain in his hip and side where he fell but his face quick was beyond his control as he vomited bile and the granola bar he had eaten for breakfast hours ago.

His feet slid on a carelessly dropped towel and he clung to the toilet bowl with shaking hands.

“Hey hey easy” Namjoon warned. Crouching down he placed a steady hand on his back. Helping him over the bowl so he doesn’t get anymore mess anywhere or on anyone.

Hoseok's tears trickled into the porcelain, reminding him of the hideous mess in the bowl: the bile, which was made by the liver and released by the gallbladder, his head swam and he heaved and coughed.

“Aish..you should’ve said if you were feeling queasy you doughnut.” His fellow 94’ liner light-heartedly scolded, rubbing his palm up and down the bridge of his back.

“Anything more to let up?” He adds nonchalantly, this was the fewer the norm. He knew hoseok couldn’t handle the vile images with a stomach as squeamish as his. Why he still wanted to be a doctor he had no clue..

Hoseok gasped and coughed up a few acidic, nasty drops more before shaking his head. He slid bonelessly to the floor. The cool tile cooled his head a bit, making the swimming vision clear.

"Just leave me here to die. Then donate my body so someone else can throw up because of me."

“You sound like you’ve OD’ed on fucking morphine Hoseok” Namjoon laughed while soaking the towelette under the tap, reaching over to flush the puke filled bowl too

Namjoon sat down with a sigh, wringing the cloth out before tenderly wiping at Hoseok’s face and the spittle of sick that had got on his chin. He snorted “you aren’t gonna find such a friend that cleans after you get sick huh? I’m truly one of a kind..” He giggles to himself as he helped Hoseok off the floor

Hoseok nodded tiredly and groaned. His stomach gurgled threateningly and cramped viciously causing him to cry out:

"Ah! Ah-ah-ah! Aiish! That really hurts!"

Namjoon frowned, hoisting the boy up with his arms and letting him lean his weight a hand on his stomach. “Still nauseous or crampy just crampy Hobi?”

Hoseok gasped and doubled over Namjoon's arm dry heaving. "C-cramping. Didn't wanna eat... Didn't wanna be sick..." his voice was hoarse and weak.

“Okay Hobi, Lets get you comfortable first yeah?” Namjoon muttered, voice slow and heavy with worry. Not usually the affectionate (Hoseok) out of the pair, he resorted to stroking his hair back a little which was sweaty and disheveled.

He walked out the restroom ever so carefully with Hoseok, supporting him fully as he winced in pain and set him into his bed “did you want any water? Heating pad? Medicine?”

Hoseok cringed. Even water he would pay them a return visit very quickly at this point, and without food or water medicine would not be kind to him. He limped over to the bed and clutched Namjoon's hand, tears trickling down, as the younger man lowered him into the narrow bed.

"P-please. Don't leave m-me... Joonie!" Hobi's thin frame was curled into a question mark. Hoseok pressed Namjoon's warm hand firmly into his stomach, moaning as the warmth of his large hand began to relax his muscles.

“I won’t leave Hobi-ah, Just relax” Namjoon comforts as he sat down, rubbing comforting circles onto Hoseok’s bloated pouch of a tummy.

Namjoon found it hard not to coo at how Hoseok’s dramatic pout so he carded his hands through his locks and placed a soft kiss behind his ear “Get some sleep if you can, I’m right here”

Hoseok released a shuddering watery sigh and closed his eyes feeling Namjoon's usually clumsy hands relaxing him and taking away the pain. Slowly, the anxiety and pain faded, revealing a softer, more vulnerable Hobi. He slept, not caring for a few blessed hours about his success or his family's expectations... he was just Hoseok and that was enough.

#btsau #bts emeto #sick!hoseok #caring!namjoon #namseok

56 notes · View notes

morphituu · 5 years

Text

Milagro

Chapter 5: “Loom”

Nothing was recognizable, yet he knew he was standing in his backyard. The surrounding bushes and trees kept changing as if their shadows were evolving, but his focus was on cries he heard that seemed to be moving all around him.

Distant, soft, newborn cries. They quickened his already erratic heart, but turning and trying to scope them out only made his eyes heavier. There was no sun, but looking around felt like he was looking directly at it.

It was louder now, and he spun, realizing he stood barefoot in the grass outside, but it was warm and soft around his feet. The cries were inside his house. All the windows were dark, the whole world was, like a blackout.

His legs were so heavy- like trudging through thigh deep water.

“Callie?” he called, but his voice only carried so far.

The closer he came, the louder the cries were, but they were fading, as if life was draining from the source.

“Callie!?” he hollered desperately, stumbling through the backdoor and squeezing through the hallway, narrower than he remembered.

“Jakoby?”

He was in his room then, and Callie was before him, her back turned and… her knees bowed unnaturally, arms hung at her sides.

“Cal-”

She folded like a piece of paper against the ground, into a pool of blood that was glowing in the dark room, her stomach torn open.

His vision was tunneling, and met a pair of ice blue eyes that stared at him like a wolf in the darkness, stalking its prey. But this wolf held a baby in her hands, no longer crying, just as lifeless as his lover across the floor that still looked up at him with wild eyes.

He couldn’t see it’s face, but the baby bore his color.

He wanted to see it’s face, but when he looked up, Tikka was staring at him with pleading eyes, her fingers digging into the soft underside of his slain child.

“Jakoby?”

The sound he made was nowhere near any comprehensible word, more of a forlorn holler to end what he was seeing as he lurched forward, his arm pulling harshly from under Callie’s head. His peeled eyes jumped frantically, grounding himself, realizing he was in his room, but the world wasn’t as dark, nor were there cries of his…

A nightmare.

This dawned on him, and he leaned forward, head hung in his hands as he struggled to slow his heaving breaths.

“Baby?” Callie rose sleepily, uncaring of the thin sheet of sweat covering him as she reached around his wide shoulders, the other around his waist and a sweet kiss lingering on his shoulder. She couldn’t tell if he was simply settling his breathing or actually stifling cries what with his face hidden like that, but either way, it wouldn’t loosen the hold she had on him.

“You haven’t had one in a while,” softly she recalled, the touch across his back further calming him. When it ran the length of the back of his neck, he finally looked at her, but immediately his vision flickered down to her pregnant belly bared in only a sports bra.

Still there.

“I’m sorry,” he atoned, but a shake of her head tousling her long hair and a few kisses to his cheek silenced any of that.

With a soft tug, she pulled his upper half partly over so his head rested under her chin, her caress across his shoulder blades relaxing every fiber of muscle in his rigid body until he was boneless, and counting the kicks he felt beneath his palm where his hand rested.

“Woke ‘em up, too,” he graveled, curling the crook of his elbow around her belly protectively.

“Gotta put it back to sleep now.” she barely mumbled, the grazes of her hand slowing.

He knew it was pointless, but he still rubbed her stomach gently, even humming the tune of an Opeth song. The fresh sting of angry tears still pricked the back of his eyes, just as the strong hiccup of a whimper fought to crawl up his throat, but he forced them both down, veering all his attention to the small life still kicking inside her.

With Pucca circling a few times behind the bend of his knees and his thoughts muddling, he allowed a few fearful tears to pass onto her. Get it out, then get on with it.

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

It couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes he was awake the night before, but Nick still wandered around yawning repeatedly, bumping into the entrance of the bathroom as he checked on Callie.

“Any better?” he asked, rubbing an eye. She was scrubbing her teeth again, tired eyes meeting his in the mirror. They were red and puffy, her nose a little blushed too.

She spat, and stood straight with a frown. “It hates me today,”

“The hormones do,” he shrugged. She groaned, pulling her hair loose of it’s bun to fashion it into a neater ponytail. She scratched at the growing hair of her undercut, her other fingers flying to press against her lips.

He cringed, waiting… and there she went, kneeling back before the toilet, but her gut had voided anything left the previous 2 times.

“Zofran?” he asked, and she nodded before dry heaving again, tears slipping down her cheeks and spine bowing.

“Text your mom-” another heave from inside the bathroom as he dug through her bag. “We might be a while,” she groaned. He nodded, unable to find the small packet she kept her nausea medicine in. “I can’t eat the food,” she whined, sniffling, and by the sound of it, her face was hung in the toilet. He flipped her purse and angrily shook it, depositing its insides out across the tables surface.

Why does she carry so much shit- ah, there it is!

Nick was already ripping the aluminum square and pressing the tablet into his palm as he retrieved cold water for her, wide stepping his way back to the bathroom.

“It’s gonna make me vomit,” she moaned, shakily.

“Just throw it back,” he reasoned, and Callie looked up at him with swollen eyes, reluctantly raising a palm so he could hand off the pill.

Her eyes pinched shut as soon as the ‘strawberry’ flavored dissolvable pill coated her tongue, and with grabbing fingers she reached for the water, daring only a mouthful.

She shook her head, her mouth flapping. “Shits awful,”

“Always works though,” he grunted, sitting on the tiled floor before her just as Pucca had trotted in to see what all the commotion was about.

Sparse words were passed between them as they waited for the medicine to do its job, and thankfully the vicious nausea rested, and she felt comfortable enough closing the toilet beside her. It seemed she couldn’t go more than a few days at a time without the morning sickness carrying on the entirety of a day, even as far along as she was. Same went for the headaches that sometimes kept her in bed and the needles she felt unsettling her legs when she tried to sleep at night.

“Itchy nipples are the worst of it all,” Callie rasped, clearing her throat.

“Just scratch them,”

“Easier to do when your boobs don’t feel like they’re about to pop when you touch them,” she mumbled, eyeing him with colder of a glare than usual. It was her ‘shut up Nick’ look she’d mastered when he tried weighing in on her pregnancy without any personal experience to back him up.

He gritted his teeth together, his hand pinned under Pucca’s chin. “I like your pregger boobs,”

She tried to narrow her eyes, but a snort forced its way up, then a constricted smile. “Shut up,”

“Your automatic floaties,” he added, flinching when she leaned forward over her stomach to swipe at him. A few failed attempts yielded her efforts to beat him, but still gladly accepted his help after he’d stood and offered his hands to her.

“Still wanna go?” he asked.

“Of course. I need to brush my teeth again though,” she sighed, turning back to the sink. A quick kiss against her hair before he left the bathroom, heading for the kitchen to gather the salsas she’d made for the party. One bowl of salsa verde and an even bigger one of the red, the very kind that made him burn up just looking at it. It’s blood like hue and shimmering oil that pooled around the edges meant it was hot as shit, just how he liked it, even if he’d regret it later on.

“Is this my dads present?” he called, and she giggled, coming into the kitchen as she finished putting in a simple pair of studded earrings.

“No but it should be, huh?” she grinned, her hands twisted to hold against her back once finished.

He’d never say it out loud, but all he wanted to do was cuddle and tell her how big and cute she looked, especially wearing tighter shirts that showed her belly button that had started to pop a little bit. Damn his hands being full- he wanted a photo of her stood like that, a half smile on her ashen face. Her color would return soon- more than 10 minutes without her face in the bowl would do her good.

“Okay,” Nick looped his father's gift on a finger. “Ready?”

“Yep,” she answered, unhooking Pucca’s leash and harness from the wall. “C’mere mamas, ven! Ven!”

The pitbull had already been wiggling uncontrollably as soon as Callie had reached for the harness, and approaching her with it only made her the more squirmy, her tubby little body running circles around Callie’s legs.

“Careful-”

Too late.

With a fast charge from Pucca from behind, Callie went tumbling sideways, bouncing and rolling a little bit once on the carpet.

“PUCCA.” Nick boomed, the salsa almost spilled in his haste to set it on the counter and make it to Callie’s side, but she was laughing lowly.

“I’m okay,” she giggled, completely lifted by Nick’s arms around her. “Nick I’m fine,” she insisted, but he was patting all over her, especially her stomach that hadn’t even bumped anything in her fall from grace. There was still an angry chuff when he spun, enraged, amber eyes searching until he found Pucca laid flat on the ground, cowering beside the TV.

“Dumb brat,” he growled, stomping over to her. She army crawled towards him, chin flat to the ground and big eyes looking up.

A harsh smack made contact against her bottom, and Callie frowned, leaning back into her hands once again.

“No! You know better lat pa-gog beaukav!” he scolded harshly, even though Pucca had rolled onto her back and was ‘smiling’ up at him, her eyes squinted.

“Baby,” He turned, meeting Callie’s knowing look. “I’m fine,”

“You could’ve fallen forward,” he argued, but she patted his back as she passed to Pucca.

“That’s why I have hands to catch myself,”

The dog was much calmer this time around, cowering near Nick once her harness was buckled, but her tail wagged just as wildly when trotting to the front door. A low chuff made her flinch as she moved by him, though. Still, she tugged on the leash Callie wound around her wrist after slipping her Chucks on.

“I swear if she drags you across the ground-” he warned while grabbing the bowls of salsa. Just thinking of that… it made his stomach churn. The after effects of a very vivid nightmare still left him jumpy.

“I got her, I got her.” Callie insisted, leaning back into Pucca’s relentless tugging as soon as the front door opened. A low grumble of disapproval was all she got in return however, but they were off, walking across the lawn towards the truck with Pucca bounding excitedly. She at least could jump into the bed herself when Callie dropped the gate, and once secured, she beelined for Nick.

With his hands full, he couldn’t stop her from slipping her hand down his pocket to grab his keys. For a moment there he almost thought she was grabbing for something else…

Instead, she strolled happily to the drivers side, now having mastered how to hoist herself and her protruding belly up into the high seats without too much difficulty. When she started adjusting his seat and mirrors, it reminded him how useful another car would be, especially when the baby arrived. He couldn’t leave her stranded at home in case anything happened, and… it got kind of obnoxious squeezing into his seat after she’d use the truck. Her legs were just so short, though.

“Don’t you start huffin’ at me,” she grinned, earning another low growl that dragged on as he wiggled his shoulders into the passenger seat stubbornly. “I can drive until my stomach hits the wheel,”

“Even then you’ll be too stubborn to stop,”

“Might just pop it out behind the wheel if you keep bein’ so snippy.” she murmured, turning to back the truck out of the driveway. A quick pinch of her knee made her yelp, and halted her teasing.

Nick would snap his fingers loudly when Pucca started to bark at people who baby talked the pretty pitbull from their cars, more worried about people assuming she was a vicious dog instead of a big chunk of meat that was afraid of flies, but she’d hush when the truck started moving, hanging her head over the side so her mouth inflated with the air rushing past them.

By the time they turned onto the quiet street Nick’s parents lived on, Callie’s nausea had about finished it’s rampage, though she still cautioned herself to not eat much. Vomiting in front of Nick’s extended family would ensure never showing her face around them again.

“It’s not like they’d tease you about it,” he reminded her, but she shrugged.

“It’s still embarrassing to retch in the bathroom with so much family around,” she explained as she turned the last corner, and Pucca started whining excitedly.

Nick’s ears flickered, his lips pursing. “Saying you’re embarrassed to carry my child?”

“Oh shut up,” she chuckled, smacking his thigh. By the time they’d found parking on the street filled with the other cars, Pucca was near fighting her harness in attempts to bolt to the front door, already barking at the pitbull his parents owned.

Callie didn’t even have to hold her leash; she knew where to run to find her sister as soon as the gate was dropped and the leash was unhooked. Off she went, shooting across the yard and scratching at the front door.

Nick made it around the truck just as Callie had wavered a little, blinking away the dizzy spell. An arm around her back steadied her.

“You gotta stop jumping down like that,” he implored, hesitant to release his hold from her.

“Force of habit,” she frowned, back to herself. “I can carry one of those,”

“Oh yeah you take the gift so they’re nicer to you,” he drawled sarcastically, locking the truck twice.

“I wouldn’t need to- they like me more anyways.” she beamed mischievously, hissing when he smacked her ass harshly before they crossed the street.

They pushed and teased one another with secretive words as they walked, stopping their naughty comments when Oleg opened the front door to greet Pucca, then standing straight with open arms for Callie.

“Happy birthday!” Callie smiled, receiving a monstrous hug and even being lifted off her feet a couple inches.

“Thank you, my little bean,” he grinned, always patting her cheek before moving onto hug Nick.

“Mausan lovepak,” Dinara keened lovingly, meeting Callie next for a tight hug and always the same questions: are you hungry, are you tired- how’re you feeling? before she held the sides of her belly, face scrunched in affection. “Nalkren'uk avhe faushnu?”

“It’s good, Ma,” Nick answered, finally finding space to slip through the door.

“Oh your back must be hurting,” Dinara sucked her teeth, pulling Callie gently along. “Ukmall- grab that tea on the counter?” she directed to Nick just as he’d been walking out, only to spin on his heel and go back.

“I can’t drink sweet tea, I’ve been nauseous all morning,” Callie groaned, stopping often as multitudes of Orcs greeted her with hugs or quick kisses on the cheeks, some of them patting her stomach which in turn made her a little anxious.

Had she not had such a miserable morning it would’ve been easier to handle, but the slightest bump or touch made her woozy.

“Nick told me so. It’s Crescent tea, it’ll calm that little one down,” she winked at Callie. “Agh! All of you, stop! Let her find a seat!” she barked at the hovering hands and swiped a few away as Callie chuckled, waddling after Dinara as they made their way to the backyard where there was more seats and less Orcs to bump into.

It was cooler outside compared to the stuffy heat that hovered in the house from all the food cooking in the oven and stove top, relieving some of her discomfort. Pucca was bolting and bounding playfully with her sister Sunu; another Merle pitbull that Nick hadn’t had the heart to leave behind when he’d first picked Pucca from the litter. Good thing his parents wanted a dog, too. Orc toddlers and kids ran circles around the lively dogs with bubble wands while a few teenagers sat around the edge of the yard where they’d dragged over chairs, their eyes mainly glued to their phones. Laughter still floated between them as they shared memes, however.

Now that Callie was sat beside the long table littered with food and a few family members here and there, it was easier to let curious hands rest over her stomach as they eagerly wanted to feel the baby move. Mostly Nick’s aunts and cousins who all shared their advice about Orkish babies.

From techniques to jump start labor, to help with labor recovery, all the way to teething that apparently started much earlier for Orcs than it did for humans, Callie drank it all in, storing the information for later. She knew how to handle human babies, but Orcs? Even halflings? She was out of her depth.

Once the hands had stopped reaching and most of the extended families questions had been answered, it gave Callie the opportunity to answer Dinara’s burning questions about the return visit only a couple days prior.

“I didn’t think it’d be like human pregnancy,” Dinara restated, and Callie nodded in agreement. “So when’s the new due date?”

“Late July,”

Dinara’s hairless brow cocked. “Late July?”

“They still don’t know if the growth rate will be consistent,” Callie explained, and Nick’s mother’s eyes partly rolled in exaggerated humor.

“You’d think they’d be able to at least give you a rough date instead of the later half of an entire month,” she huffed as she stood, patting Callie’s shoulder as she walked back into her house.

Callie nodded indifferently. She has a point.

A few more family members sat at the table with Callie, curiously asking how she’d been doing so far and about everyday life, all of them equally excited and surprised that Nick was finally settling down. He’d been known as the loner of the family for years, not only for his relationship status, but to also be the only one without siblings, so it shocked most of them that he’d ended up with a human, no less.

“It’s because he had no siblings that he chose a human,” a low voice came, pulling Callie and one of his aunts attention away from their conversation.

“Say it louder, Ghorza,” the aunt, Yotul, who Callie had been talking to snapped, her brighter than normal eyes glaring at the chubbier aunt across the table sat beside her bigger husband.

Ghorza’s painted, crooked eyebrows pinched together in discomfort, but she squared her narrow shoulders. “He didn’t learn to stay with his own kind. First joining the humans at the LAPD and now that,” she motioned towards Callie’s stomach.

Though her hard expression was set in stone, Callie’s confidence faltered a little. Her foot started tapping under the table.

Words were passed between the aunts bitterly, but Callie understood little to none of the swift Orkish lashing off their tongues. Her arms crossed, more so over her stomach she now wanted to shield from anyone's gaze.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked, appearing from behind with a couple plates in hand along with the tea. Other family had held him up with conversation up until that point. She hadn’t been aware of the tension in her frame until she exhaled at the sight of her lover, scooting her chair closer to his. All at once, she wanted to hide against his chest, but she had to stand her ground, even if it was silently.

As hard as it could be now, it would only get harder once she had a halfling on her hip. Moms were already judged critically for anything and everything; she had to start developing that thicker skin to withstand the criticisms from both sides.

“Your auntie says you two are wrong for having a baby,” Yotul exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few other family members that had sat at the table. A low murmur of disapproval floated around, all aimed at the aunt who tried to keep her protruding chin lifted confidently.

“Not the first time we’ve heard that,” Callie mumbled. Nick looked at her at first with a grin, but the way her knee was swaying back and forth told him everything. A hand on her thigh brought her attention to him, lessening the intensity of her angry eyes.

“You act like it’ll be some great burden to the family. It will be no different from the other children we all have,” an Uncle of Nick’s piped in, reaching over his shoulder to grab for some of the baked chips before them.

Ghorza scoffed belittlingly. “Crossover children are bred to be mischief,”

“Wow, you sounded human there,” came a more timid voice. Beside Nick was sat his younger cousin, only a teenager, but from what Oleg had told them had always looked up to Nick as a mentor. It was because of Nick that this young boy, Adrik, was pursuing his dream of being a fireman.

Nick chuckled, bumping his arm.

The older Orc that had been beside Ghorza shook his head, his jowls shaking. “You bring disgrace to your family,” he muttered, his gravelly voice unsettling Callie further alongside a cold glare he shot her way.

“He’s done no such thing,” Oleg appeared from the other side of the yard with a plate stacked with grilled fish. “Leave if you’re going to be a sourpuss- it’s my birthday,” he stated dramatically, a hand on his chest in false exasperation and winking at Nick and Callie.

“If everyone can share their opinions than why can’t we? We were your family first,” Ghorza leaned in, eyeing Nick like he was a child being reminded of his lower status. But he wasn’t. He was a grown man, and had been taught by Callie, no less, to let go of whoever wasn’t in his corner.

“Not to my baby you won’t be,” Nick grinned, his clubmasters masking his squinted eyes, patting Callie’s thigh for added point.

Though Callie’s lip barely curled in a small grin, her heart soared. She was so proud of him.

“And don’t you go picking on my daughter-in-law again or we’ll bring up your little altercation with the police, eh?” Oleg smiled, waggling his hairless brows, and effectively ruffling Ghorza and her husbands feathers who in turn chuffed loudly at his brother.

“Ahh, I bet Nick knows all about that!” a different family member pushed in, stirring low laughter across the table as Nick nodded. He did, in fact, know about the forged checks his salty aunt had written in his grandfather's name.

Callie hid her smile behind her mug as the pair stood bitterly and moved into the house, two more cousins taking their spots with plates full of food.

“I’m sorry,” Nick intoned, but she shrugged.

“It’s not like you haven’t dealt with the same thing,” she partly grinned now. “I didn’t think she could dislike me anymore than before,”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s mad she didn’t stay thin like you when she was pregnant,”

This time it was Zaza who’d laughed that, Nick’s cousin who was the same age and who frequented the bank Callie worked at for her own job. Her brilliant patterning always entranced Callie; like a fairy had drawn intricate designs across her face and shoulders that showed beneath the lovely, baby blue blouse she wore.

“And that all her girls can’t stand her,” a longtime family friend said between Nick and Callie, leaning down to hug around Nick’s broad shoulders. He hugged her back awkwardly. “I haven’t seen you since you came into your celebrity status,” Jez teased, but Nick snorted.

“I was never a celebrity,” he corrected, petting Pucca when she came to rest her head in his lap, panting loudly.

“Says the one with the groupies,” someone called from across the table, igniting a small storm of laughter.

“I do not,” he griped.

“You do, actually,” Callie piped in. “I always get girls and guys on Instagram commenting about how they wish they had their own big Orc daddy in uniform for themselves,”

His family exploded with teasing, effectively heating Nick’s ears and setting off a light flush across his cheeks as he attempted to hide behind his drink and nervous chewing. When they insisted on seeing the photos, Callie had mercy and only showed them the mild ones, like the shot of them standing before their bathroom mirror and Callie flexing pitifully with a barely visible baby bump with Nick’s impressive arms flexed beside her, his chest and stomach chiseled with muscle he’d committed some great time to building up.

“Put that away,” Nick tried grabbing for the phone, chuffing in embarrassment as Callie smiled at him with her tongue between her teeth.

“This is also why your auntie is mad- you have a flat belly and Uram’s gut hits her while they fuck.” Ushug, another uncle basically yelled, stirring another round of loud laughter from everyone.

Most of the teasing died down after that, mostly due in part to Callie nearly peeing her pants as she struggled to stifle strong giggles, proving all the more difficult when Nick playfully leaned away so she couldn’t hide behind his shoulder.

Soon after, more food covered the table once Dinara and her brother had finished inside, effectively drawing the last of the scattered family together to eat. Fish and chicken and veggies were piled high, as well as bowl after bowl of hearty sides and snacks, more than enough to feed all Orcs hungrily grabbing for their share and still have some left for seconds and leftovers.

Callie had originally said she wouldn’t eat, but the scents wafting from the fish and roasted potatoes and spiced macaroni was too much to resist, and soon her stomach, and the somersaulting one inside her was demanding a plate that Dinara stacked, even when Nick insisted she not eat the fish.

“Do you think I'd give her something that was bad for her and the baby?” Dinara snapped at her son, glaring down at him coldly, effectively silencing his protests. His mouth was in a straight line, low growls emitting from him until his mother smacked his shoulder.

Callie chewed the grilled Tilapia purposely, smiling at Nick when he glared before pinching above her knee again.

She still asked Nick to fill her plate when she was too bashful to slop seconds onto it, but let him place chicken on the plate instead of fish the second time around.

“I’ll just take some home for later then,” she teased, narrowing his eyes.

Amusing conversation floated between everyone, all of them taking shots at one another in teasing manners or just gossiping, but none of it was ill spirited. Nick’s entire family, including a few humans that made up long time friends and distant relatives he saw only once in a blue moon were close knit, and Callie’s earlier worry that any more of them disliking her based entirely on the fact their Nick had knocked-up a human dwindled further with every kind smile and genuine interest in their soon to be newborn.

A few toddlers and younger ones came up to her curiously, inquisitive eyes trained to her as they inquired about how it felt, how it was happening, and how it had happened. That made Nick almost spit his drink, and in turn earned him a few low teases from the childrens mothers who insisted ‘Uncle Nick’ give them an honest answer. Soft touches over her stomach to feel the little one’s strong kicks fluttered about from their tiny hands, most of them flinching and giggling when there was a particularly energetic bump.

Once the little ones had ran off, Callie tried helping Dinara pick up the scattered plates, cups and napkins, but insisted the expecting mother sit down and get off her feet- everyone did, but Callie waved her hands and still stacked and picked. That was until she moved beside Nick and he turned his chair to pull her into his lap, an arm kept under her bust and hand on her thigh so she couldn’t escape despite a few shoves against his chest.

Both Nick and Dinara glared stubbornly as she did, and it was only because she was outnumbered that she stayed put, Nick’s toned thighs much easier on her butt than the stiff wooden seats that had started aggravating her achy back.

“So when are you gonna tell us what the gender is?” Oleg called from the head of the table, rubbing his hands together with glee.

“When it’s born,” Callie answered, and the table collectively groaned.

“Why wait?” an aunt inquired.

“Yeah why wait?” Nick suddenly said, looking up at her from over his clubmasters as he stuffed a towered chip into his mouth.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Callie pushed against his cheek, interrupting his efforts to consume his mile high stacked chip.

“I’m getting impatient,” he paused to suck salsa off his thumb. “I already know it’s gonna be a girl,”

The table again agreed mutually, noting that Nick and two others were the only boys out of the 20 present.

“Ask Laka! He always knows,” someone announced just as Nick’s quiet uncle from his mother's side had walked by with his plate. Laka was a towering Orc with the muscle mass to match his intimidating demeanor, not the mention the chipped tusk and blind eye that aided his menacing features, but the few times Callie had interacted with him in the past was always pleasant, and the least bit frightening once he started talking.

“Oh just ask what position she was in when it happened,” someone said from afar, stirring more laughter.

“Was it doggy? Girls are always doggy,” Hanra, another cousin with a dazzling smile and golden tusks asked Callie outright, but she was hiding behind her hands, stifling flustered giggles as Nick stuffed more food in his mouth to avoid revealing their secret.

“Nooo just ask Laka! C’mon, tell her- it’s gonna be a girl, isn’t it?” Zaza came up beside Laka, leaning over to watch.

Nick’s uncle stepped beside Callie to look down at her thoughtfully, head tilted as his good eye observed her entire form. A large hand calmly moved into her space, his fingers barely pressing against her stomach for a chaste encounter before withdrawing again.

“It’s a boy,” he said, his deep voice soft, yet confident in his decision.

The table erupted with arguing and shaking heads.

“He’s lost his touch. It’s going to be a girl, ukmall,” Dinara eyed Nick knowingly, sitting down beside her stuffed husband who still accepted a piece of cake happily from her.

Laka patted Callie’s shoulder before moving away to grab more food, and she forced down a wide smile. For months she’d only heard ‘girl this, girl that’, so to finally have someone else in her corner after secretly hoping for a boy… it left her hopeful, even if there was no surefire way to know outside of a doctors office.

“Either way,” Oleg forced out through his full mouth, making Dinara cringe. “You have to pick names,”

“We have a name for a boy picked,” Nick said nonchalantly, despite everyone silencing enough to lean in.

“I swear if you two keep that a surprise too,” Dinara said through clenched jaws, looking at the pair with heated eyes.

Nick looked up at Callie, smirking.

“Leo Makar,” she said, delicately, another stir in her stomach affirming how much she adored the name they’d brought together. There were no disputes this time, but instead a collective hum of approval from everyone.

“And for a girl?”

“I like Veronika,” Nick stated, releasing his hold on Callie when she rose to use the bathroom.

“And Renata!” she called before entering the house, and he nodded in agreeance. Those names were met with a little more resistance, but not enough for Nick to be swayed in the slightest. The conversation finally rotated from them, back to private conversations between Orcs sat beside one another.

Laka came back around, sitting down on Nick’s other side once the chair was abandoned.

“How’d you figure it’s gonna be a boy?” Nick asked curiously, knowing full well his uncle really had never been wrong in his predictions.

At first he shrugged, but then explained, “Girls take more from their mothers than boys. Calista’s color is still good on her.” He solely stated, nodding at his own words before concentrating on his food.

Nick’s eyes slowly pulled away, chewing mindlessly on a piece of root that felt pleasant between his sharp molars. There was no real preference for Nick; he adored the thought of having a little girl on his hip just as much as a rambunctious boy following him around everywhere. His thoughts took him on a small stroll away from the loud chattering around him, to a multitude of scenarios, all displaying the countless possibilities his future awaited with their first child.

↠

Fero couldn’t help but turn over his shoulder every time she did, only to reveal again that no one was following them down the slumbering street. The only thing that would’ve given them away was the way the streetlights flickered above them when they passed, or the ridiculously shifty appearance her long trench coat and hood gave off.

He glanced at her, clearing his throat. “You’re making yourself more obvious,”

Tikka didn’t answer, and instead kept walking briskly across the wet sidewalk.

“MTF-”

“I’m not worried about MTF. I’m worried about Makhel,” she mumbled, again looking over her shoulder.

“I doubt he’ll be walking down a neighborhood like this anytime soon,” he chuckled, fingers running over the tops of cars they passed.

“You say that like he didn’t find and completely destroy the motel we were just in,” she hissed through her sharp teeth, flinching towards him to make him flinch back. “He destroyed everything,”

Fero straightened his jacket. “We didn’t need any of it anyways,”

“We needed cover. We needed to not be in the open like this,”

“We’ll find somewhere else,” he assured, his tone betraying his attempts to comfort her. He wasn’t entirely sure of his own statement, either. There was a short distance of silence between them, listening to the thick heels of her boots against the concrete as they walked briskly. “Rania is with him,”

Tikka’s head shook. A short beat of silence. “I don’t think she went willingly,”

“She’s half Orc-”

“That doesn’t make her any less of a Bright,” Tikka spun, fury whipping like wild flames in her striking eyes. “She’s a damaged girl and he understood that pain. She’s not wrong for staying with him,”

The ire radiating off her locked frame kept him still, nearly pressed against a car they’d stopped beside, and she didn’t budge until he nodded stiffly. He exhaled when she turned to continue down the sidewalk, and kept a safe distance between them with his mouth shut.

Tikka pulled a scorched paystub from her pocket, glancing at a house she paused before. Wrong one. She moved further down the sidewalk, coming to one with a long front yard and bamboo shades rolled up above the porch, lush green plants lining the yarn below the front windows. Another glance at the paper- this was it.

Fero stood close beside her, both of them staring at the dark windows of the home.

“Are you gonna go up?” he asked softly, and her expressionless face turned to him.

“You think I can walk up and just knock on his door?” she mocked, and he fumbled over words before simply exhaling, looking back at the house.

“Are we just going to stand here until he finds us then?” he bit back, ready to stand his ground when she turned on her heel towards him again.

Approaching headlights demanded their attention however, and Fero had pulled Tikka with him to duck behind a car just as the truck pulled into the driveway, a pitbull rising from the bed to trot towards the gate. Tikka looked around Fero’s shoulder as Nick stepped from the truck, stretching back on his heels with a loud groan they could hear from across the yard before closing the door and walking to let the dog from the bed. It ran across the yard, circling near the bushes as the Orc she once spent a dangerous night with walked around the other side.

“Is that him?” Fero whispered, and she nodded.

That’s when she saw her.

They came from around the front, waddling beside Nick as he carried bags, both of them smiling and talking. She was the reason for the carseat Tikka had noticed in his truck; she knew this when she detailed the distended state of her belly, and the way she walked with a hand placed protectively over it.

Nick had grown even more from the man she thought he was.

“He looks different,” she whispered, taking in his puffed chest and raised chin, so proud as he walked beside his nameless lover.

“Shh!” Fero pulled her back more when the pitbull started barking in their direction, stood alertly at the center of the yard.

“Pucca! Ven aqui!” Callie called, continuing onto the front door as Nick stopped to watch her.

But she went on barking rapidly, the fur on her back standing as he approached her. It offset him immensely, but it was too windy to pick up on anything that might’ve been there when he scented the air. His nocturnal vision saw only familiar shapes of cars, his hearing alerting to nothing. Regardless, it spooked him.

“C’mon girl,” he urged, but she only glanced up at him, turning to bark again. “Pucca!”

Stubbornly she backed up, whining before trotting beside Nick, nervously circling around his legs as she snuck in quieter barks at the street. She only silenced after the door closed behind them and could no longer rile herself up.

“Chill, weirdo.” Nick mumbled, moving to the kitchen.

Tikka remained crouched even when Fero stood, looking down at her expectantly. Still, she remained, bright eyes trained on the house now occupied.

“So what’re we doing?” he asked, hands on his slim hips.

“I can’t find Ward without him,” she said softly, reminding herself more than anything.

“So let’s-”

“He has a pregnant wife,” Her tone was matter-of-fact, a little perplexed he didn’t seem to understand the severity of Nick’s situation or his involvement moving forward.

“With a human, no less,” Fero shuddered.

When she rose, he came face to face with a deep fury rumbling in her heart; one that showed no amount of love for him could stop her from whipping out the wand carried preciously against her side and slaughtering him. He wasn’t her lover in that moment. He was someone who had crossed a Bright, and she resembled her sister like no other time than in those seconds that passed like hours.

“When you say things like that, I don’t blame Makhel for what he’s done.”

Tikka didn’t wait for him to respond, nor did she wait for him to follow as she made her way back down the street. For the time being, she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. Too many times she’d let his bitter remarks slide, but no more. Her heart couldn’t take much more of it.

A harsh breath expelled from him as he flopped into the couch, stretching pleasantly once he’d kicked off his shoes and pulled his sweatshirt up over his head, leaving him in a black muscle shirt and sweats. The chill lingering in the house sent goosebumps across his skin, but the deep cushions would warm him soon enough. Nick loved his entire family endlessly, but sitting in the silence of his own home was pleasing after such a lively day.

A wide yawn with another stretch later, and he was sure he could sleep in that very spot. The smallest of light was coming in from the kitchen, just enough to let him see Pucca settling into her bed by the hall, circling in the center before hanging half off the plush pillow.

Softly he snorted, gaze moving up to Callie when she sauntered from the bathroom, her tights hung over her arm. Her baseball T was gone too, donning only a maternity camisole and panties that showed more of that ass she’d put on.

Nick squinted past a smirk, twisting to better watch her go about organizing loose mail on their table, pushing in a crooked chair, swaying side to side with a hand against the crook of her spine as she overlooked some of the papers already torn from envelopes.

“Used less water this month. I’m gonna keep doing laundry at night,” she called back, but he only hummed, eyes kept on her peacefully.

How had he ever stood the emptiness of his home without her?

The bills were stacked and left on the table top, and she turned, a chair bearing the weight from her hand and the other holding her baby bulge as she met his gaze.

“I ate too much,” she softly confided, and he chuckled.

“Me too,”

“You gonna call it a night?” she asked, walking over to lay down beside him with a pleased exhale, her legs stretching across his lap.

Nick shrugged, squeezing between her body and the couch to rest his cheek over her stomach. “Lemme hold my baby,” he said behind a kiss, an arm draped over her thighs.

“You mean your son?” she bargained, and her smile grew wider as his brow arched higher once he looked up at her.

“Possessed with the thought now?”

“Convinced,” she corrected, rubbing his head as he adjusted his hold around her. The soft rumbling of purrs started soon after her nails drew designs across the back of his neck, a digit venturing to trace the shell of his ear. His big shoulders shimmied, and Callie giggled.

“I wanna know the gender,”

Big golden eyes found her bewildered ones, his chin resting under her bust.

“Really? Your family got to you?” she asked in disbelief, but Nick only shrugged.

“I wanna know if we’re having a Leo or a Veronika,” he confessed, fingers drumming.

“Or a Renata,” she added reluctantly, pulling her thigh up from under him. “What if I never got pregnant again and we don’t have the chance to keep it a surprise?”

“Do you know how many of my aunts wanna throw you a baby shower?” he grinned, eventually getting one out of her.

“So does Rosie,” she revealed, already feeling her formerly resilient stance on this subject wavering the longer she gazed down at his pout. Nick never used this face, choosing to save it for rare occasions knowing it was her undoing.

In defeat, she dropped her head back. “I’ll think about it,”

“Good,” he settled, unwilling to push his luck any further. A glance downwards caught sight of his toothy grin, but swinging her knee into his chest to knock it from his face did little when he caught her blow, his hand placed appealingly farther inwards.

She licked her lips, her other foot sliding off the edge of the couch.

He masked his inching in soft caresses, closer to her center now.

“I gotta get up early tomorrow,” she muttered, her breath heavying involuntarily.

She could feel his chest expand rapidly; he was scenting her. Nick swallowed and lapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, relishing in the warm spice that was already coming off of her. It heavied his eyes immediately.

“We should go to bed soon then,” he replied gruffly, the back of his nails dragging side to side along the edge of her panties that sat at the crook of her inner thigh. She twisted ever so slightly beside him, already impatient.

“Soon,” she agreed, and her breath hitched when Nick’s featherlight touch traced her lips, up and down over her panties, craning his neck to look up at her. “Later,” she corrected, whining.

“You have stuff to do?” he smirked, and her expression was pure agony. “Say it,” he puffed, pulling up against his elbow so his face was before hers, his fingers still barely any pressure.

“Touch me,” came out in a harsh breath, her hips rising, awkwardly at that with her belly in the way.

“Again,” he groaned, licking the nipple that was barely poking out from under her camisole. Her breasts had swelled beautifully since pregnancy set in.

“Touch me, please,”

His lips found hers in time to smother a delicious moan just as his hand slid under the panties and between her lips, pebbling her soaked clit with his middle finger. Her kisses were messy, her grip on his face weak as he ground his palm in wide circles while his fingertips prodded her entrance.

“You’re cruel,” she gnarled, face tightening in anger when rocking her hips did little to get him in, but Nick’s crooked grin was devious, and sexy. Goosebumps cascaded down her inner thighs, her knee rising to hook over his thigh.

“Stop teasing-” he found his way deeper into her camisole, his tongue swirling around a hard nipple. “C’mon,”

“Hm?” he pretended not to hear, drawing wide circles around her clit, resisting a moan himself; she was so warm- it made him feverish thinking of sinking into her.

She exhaled angrily, her entire body bowing under him. But his touch still evaded her entrance.

“Baby please,” she grabbed his face, bringing his gaze to hers. A soft kiss, and he groaned, sitting farther up over her. “Inside me,” she sighed, her tongue finding his momentarily. “Make me scream,”

Nick chuffed, pushing his tongue in her mouth for a heated kiss just as he pushed his middle two fingers in, her body tensing in the most languid of fashions. His eager mouth fell to her neck as she bowed, her own hand resting over his to feel how he finger fucked her.

“Keep moving like that,” he growled, pumping his wrist in time with her hips. He sat up- he had to see the way her pussy ground against his palm, her juices already shimmering in the dim light over his skin.

“Faster,” she forced out, arms hooked over the armrest above her head, using the leverage to snap her hips harshly. A long chuff expelled from him, and suddenly his fingers had pulled from her.

His face fell back into her touch after he’d swiftly pulled the soaked panties off her feet and pushed his sweats down to free his aching cock, his tight undershirt bunched up around his ribs that rippled with muscle.

Both of them moaned when the head of his dick squeezed in, seating tightly against her core, and there was only a few chaste moments of desperate, messy kissing before he fisted his hands into the cushions beneath her ass and started thrusting.

His mouth dropped to the spot under her jaw his bite would always mar as her neck craned deliciously, long, throaty moans wavering from her. He laved his tongue over the healing bruise after biting down, slowly, harshly, snarling into her skin when his speed increased.

“Oh fuck baby,” she whined, her heels pressed tight into his lower back.

“You’re so wet,” he puffed against her cheek, following her face as her head lulled side to side.

“Don’t stop- please don’t stop,” she begged breathlessly, eyes rolling back when he obeyed, her ass smacking against his hips loudly.

He had to close his eyes, tightly. He was so close- watching where his glazed dick punished her would only send him there faster.

Her touch brought his face back to hers, struggling to find her lips when she bounced beneath him.

“Oh God- oh fuck,” she wept, her brows tightening. It was happening; her hands were stilling over his tensed arms, her nails starting to pinch into his skin as her breathing became rougher.

“There you go,” he placed open mouthed kisses across her jaw. “Cum on my dick,”

“Like that- just like that baby,” she exhaled harshly.

Fuck- the way she spoke when she was like this. Everything was a pleasured plea, her tone harsh, and heady. She whimpered something, many things, her entire body curling inwards until it rolled straight, long successions of strangled moans and melodies of his name flying from her as that submerging wash of ecstacy shot out to every corner of her body.

The pulses started around his dick, and he fell to his elbows, muffling the Orkish curses against her shoulder.

She was a fucking drug- one that created the best high he never wanted to come down from, but his end was approaching, her prolonged cries and spice of her damp skin making him dizzy. His thrusts were shortening as her touch dipped under his arms to move down his taut back, admiring the fibers of muscle that worked elegantly under her fingers.

“You’re so perfect, you feel so fucking good,” she breathed beside his ear, her arms tight around his ribs with her face hiding in the crook of his neck. She kissed his cheek sweetly until he looked at her. “Cum in me?” she whispered, her lips featherlight against his as he groaned loudly, borderline sobbing as he fucked this perfect human below him.

His hips jerked erratically, shouting disconnected words against her skin, quieting to low moans and grunts as he milked himself into her until there was nothing left.

Nick’s broad shoulders heaved with deep breaths, the gentle kisses dusting across his cheek pulling his face from the crook of her neck for a few sloppy smooches upon her mouth. His arms started to tremble when his heavy body wanted to fall, but he couldn’t crush her stomach.

With a disapproving groan from Callie, he sat up and slipped out, falling back against the other arm rest, a hand flat on his chest as he steadied his breathing.

“Oh god I gotta pee,” she griped, grunting with great difficulty as she sat up, and waddled to the bathroom. His hand followed her, but dropped to the floor.

Emptying his load in her had sucked the life right out of him.

So worth it, he smiled to himself, lifting his hips to pull his sweats up and the shirt down his lean stomach.

The bathroom door opened, and she ambled out, peeking at him from the dark hallway.

“Come spoon me,” she called longingly, walking backwards to keep her sleepy eyes on him as he reached for her. Her legs were still shaky, that much was evident even from across the living room, and it sparked a little pride in him.

It was with great effort that he rose to first turn off the kitchen light then follow her to their room, not even bothering to change as he flopped like a 250 pound sack of potatoes beside her, bouncing a little across the mattress.

Callie giggled endlessly as she rolled into his side, holding around his shoulders as he buried his face against her breasts, shoving a knee between her thighs. They were pretzeled, chatting quietly with soft touches across her lower back and his shoulder blades, sleep sneaking its way into their cuddle the longer they spoke. Soon they were yawning uncontrollably, and their words were muddling, so with a hand rested on her stomach- awkwardly that was- Nick was the first to drift off, his cheek mashed comically against her chest before Callie followed suit, still rubbing the pads of her fingers behind his ear that twitched on its own accord.

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

if Orcs are anything like i think they are, i imagine they'd throw bitchin' barbeque's and I WANNA BE INVITED. and they chose a name for a booooooy! 💕 (acting like i haven't posted spoilers on tumblr for MONTHS NOW)

thank you for reading! feedback is always greatly appreciated n_n

translations: -"ven! ven qui!": come! come here!

-"lat pa-gog beaukav!": you dumb beast! -"Mausan lovepak": my lovely -"Nalkren'uk avhe faushnu?": how's the baby?

And just in case cause i have a habit of choosing names that are pronounced weirdly: +Makhel (muh-kel) +Rania (raw-knee-uh) +Makar (muh-car; Leo's middle name)

33 notes · View notes

ladylynse · 5 years

Text

Another Phic Phight Phic! This time using one of @bouhoue‘s prompts: Maddie decides to plant some new flowers in the garden... (blood blossoms). [FF | AO3]

Danny reached for the refrigerator door, paused to sneeze, and Jazz looked up from her spot at the table. “Are you getting sick?” she asked suspiciously. She had some big test coming up—the piles of papers and mounds of books in front of her attested to that much—and, in all her studying, she’d actually stopped hovering over him.

Until now, apparently.

It had been nice while it’d lasted.

Danny wiped his nose on his arm. “I’m fine.”

Jazz’s eyes narrowed. “You were sneezing at breakfast, too. And at supper last night.”

“So maybe I’m allergic to the latest mutation in our food,” Danny said dryly, “and I’ll be fine once Mom and Dad throw out their latest accidental science experiments.”

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, as Jazz slid a paper into the book she’d been reading and closed it before getting up to look at him more closely. “You’ve never been allergic to anything before. What if this is…you know?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “No one I’ve fought is sick. They want to fight me when I’m sick, not when they’re sick.”

Jazz pursed her lips and, miracle of miracles, let the subject drop.

Danny thought that would be the end of it.

He was wrong.

XXXXXX

Two weeks later, Danny was still sniffling and had a rash he couldn’t hide. It…hurt, a bit. Not bad, especially not compared to the injuries he’d gotten avoiding and subsequently trapping Skulker at school a couple days before, but it was like a bad sunburn.

Jazz didn’t seem especially convinced it was a sunburn, despite that being Danny’s proffered explanation. She said he’d been getting worse over the course of the week, that she’d wondered about it a few days ago. She thought it was getting worse.

Danny might have protested if Sam hadn’t said the same thing at school today when she’d caught him grimacing after grabbing his backpack from his locker.

“Are you coming down with something, sweetie?” Maddie asked, catching him before he had a chance to leave the table at supper that night. “You don’t look very good.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“Are you sure? I’ve a better eye for ecto-diseases, but I can take a look at it. You might need to go to the doctor.”

“I’m fine!” Danny insisted, edging away. If this was some kind of ecto-disease, he didn’t want her to realize it. She wouldn’t put two and two together just with that—Sam and Tuck had caught ecto-acne from Vlad, after all—but he didn’t want the house under quarantine. Again.

She didn’t look convinced.

He was lucky Jazz had gone up to her room and Jack had gone down to the lab so there was no one left to agree with her. He was stuck on dish duty tonight, courtesy of yesterday’s detention for falling asleep in class, so he hadn’t had a chance to escape. Too bad his mom had stayed long enough to open the kitchen window to let in some fresh air. Unless she’d planned this ambush from the beginning, which he wouldn’t put past her.

His parents could be really oblivious, right up until they weren’t, at a very inconvenient time for him.

“It’s just a sunburn,” he said, ducking around her to drop his plate in the sink. He felt a tickle in his throat and started to cough, but it didn’t go away, then it started to burn, and—

Maddie grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bathroom. He didn’t know when she’d filled a glass of water, but she put one into his hands and helped him drink. It burned, all the way down, and his watering eyes weren’t doing anything to take away the sting in them, either, no matter how much he blinked, and—

“Keep drinking, sweetie,” Maddie murmured, but now it felt like he’d swallowed one of Skulker’s rotating blades and it was trying to cut his stomach to pieces.

He groaned, and while Maddie was digging for something in the cupboard, he lunged for the toilet and retched.

“You’re not fine,” Maddie said quietly when he’d finished. She handed him another glass of tap water. “Swish your mouth out; you’ll feel better.”

He did as he was told, and she was right, marginally.

“You’re staying home from school tomorrow,” she continued, “and then we’ll see how you’re feeling. It might just be a twenty-four-hour bug.”

Danny didn’t argue. He doubted she’d drag him to the doctor, anyway. By this time tomorrow, she’d either think this was an ecto-disease, something viral but not dangerous enough that he needed to be hooked up to some kind of fluid, or some kind of minor bacterial thing that they’d address if it got worse instead of better.

Because, okay, fine, it wasn’t just a sunburn, but he was feeling better already. And maybe it was just a cold. And if he got a legitimate sick day—not that his teachers would know the difference; Danny had lost track of the number of notes Sam had forged for him and the number of times he’d had to overshadow his dad to smooth things over with the school—he might actually be able to catch up on some sleep.

Ha.

Wishful thinking.

With his luck, the Box Ghost would show up. And then Skulker. And then Cujo.

Maddie handed him a tube of cream. “Put this on once you’re ready for bed. It should help with your rash.”

Danny squinted at it. “Anti-itch stuff?”

“You’re scratching,” she said, even though he couldn’t remember doing that. “We can try vitamin E and aloe vera in the morning and see if anything helps. For now, go to bed early and try to get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

He felt exhausted.

And the tickle in his throat was back. Not that it had ever really gone away, but it was more noticeable again. He tried to ignore it, opting to nod his head and squeak out something about brushing his teeth without taking a breath. He managed to wait until Maddie had left the bathroom before closing the door and giving in, but he coughed until his chest ached, and he knew there was no way she’d missed hearing that.

But as Danny looked down on the red-splattered white of the sink, he was glad she wasn’t here to see it, too.

XXXXXX

When Danny woke, it wasn’t from the sudden chill that was his ghost sense. Instead, his entire body burned. His pajamas felt like they were made of sandpaper, and every tiny movement had it scraping across his skin. His mouth was dry, it was hard to breathe, and the longer he lay there, the more he felt his pounding pulse in his head, and—

He flickered intangible, intending just to let the sheet drop through him but floating so he didn’t drop through the bed, but the pain spiked in an instant. He lost control and was screaming as he hit his floor. That was going to bring everyone running, and he knew he couldn’t let them find him under his bed, but he couldn’t help but whimper as he crawled out from beneath it. This was…. He didn’t know what this was. Was it possible for your entire body to ache?

When he’d pulled himself free, Danny sat up and leaned with his head against the side of the bed. His chest was heaving, his head was spinning, and he had never been more thankful that the ghosts had decided to leave him alone for once. He wasn’t in any condition to fight anyone.

It wasn’t just a cold. Or a sunburn. Or anything normal like that.

Everything hurt.

Jazz was the first person to reach his room, dropping to her knees and putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, and she didn’t reach for him again. “Danny? Are you okay?”

He tried to shake his head, choked out a sob, and whispered, “No.”

“Is…is this a ghost thing?”

She’d dropped her voice, but he had no trouble hearing her. “Maybe,” he breathed. He genuinely didn’t know the answer. “Just…call Vlad. He might know.”

He must have looked as terrible as he felt, because Jazz didn’t ague this point. “Okay, little brother,” she said, getting to her feet as Jack and Maddie burst into the room with their weapons.

“The Fenton Finder isn’t picking up anything but Danny,” Jack muttered as Jazz slipped past them and flipped on his bedroom light for good measure. “I’ll keep watch while you check on him.”

Danny heard one of the weapons powering down, and then Maddie had taken Jazz’s spot in front of him. Her hand was on his forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetie,” she said. “Jack, run and get him some water. I’ll take care of any pesky ghosts that show up while you’re gone.”

“On it, baby!”

“I don’t know what this is, Mom,” Danny whispered. He must really be coming down with something, even though he couldn’t remember being around anyone—humans or ghosts—who were sick. Even though he’d joked about it with Jazz, he didn’t think he’d eaten anything that had done this.

If Jazz was right about the sniffling and the rash being connected, this had been going on for weeks. Even if he had eaten something, it shouldn’t still be affecting him. Not unless he’d contracted some kind of bacterial or viral thing, and a hospital was really the last thing he needed. He didn’t know how his biology had changed, exactly, since he hadn’t actually needed to go to a doctor since the accident—probably thanks to his healing abilities—but he was pretty sure it had.

Vlad had never mentioned anything, even though Danny knew he’d been hospitalized after his accident with the whole ecto-acne thing, but then again, Danny had never asked.

Jack returned with water and damp cloths, and Maddie began to fuss over him. Danny didn’t fight her. He didn’t have the energy to. Besides, the coolness felt nice, even if the rough cloth grated on his skin.

She untangled his sheets before helping him back into bed. “Try to rest,” she advised, as if he hadn’t just woken up. Then again, he didn’t know what time it was, except that it was still dark. It was spring, and the days were definitely longer than they had been. Maybe it really was the middle of the night. “It’s best you conserve your energy,” continued Maddie. “I’ll make that doctor’s appointment for you in the morning.”

“No,” he croaked. “Not yet. It’s not that bad.”

He didn’t need to turn his head and look at her to know that she was frowning. “You were screaming, sweetie.”

“I had a bad dream.” It was an easy lie. “A ghost attacked me.”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Danny-boy!” Jack promised immediately.

“Thanks, Dad,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He was still tired, and lying down made the world spin less. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to get back to sleep as he’d expected. And maybe Vlad’s solution, since he probably had one, would be an easy one. Maybe he was just needed some kind of ghost vitamin supplement or whatever, and all of this would go away. Maybe….

XXXXX

Vlad jerked when the shrill ring of the telephone cut through his dream, making it vanish before he could properly remember what it had been about. Maddie meowed in protest when he moved, deliberately stalking away from him and curling up on the other pillow. Vlad let a dull ghost ray light the room so he didn’t have to fumble for the godforsaken phone. Who could possibly be calling at this hour? He didn’t allow any mayoral business on his private line, and—

The incessant ringing finally cut off as he answered with a growled, “Yes?”

“Vlad, it’s Jazz. Something’s wrong with Danny.”

Vlad blinked and sat up straighter in bed, far more awake than he had been a moment ago. “Wrong?” he repeated. “What do you mean by wrong?” Except he already knew the answer. She was calling him. Daniel had let her call him. This wasn’t just a ghost thing; they thought it was a halfa thing.

“He’s…sick.” She didn’t sound very sure of herself. “Fever, cough, rash…. I don’t know. It’s like he was fighting a cold for weeks, and then the rash started to appear, and tonight…. It just got worse. Fast.”

Vlad frowned. Ecto-acne hit hard and fast, but its symptoms were rather unmistakeable, and while he knew of a few ecto-diseases, he could hardly make an educated guess without looking at the little badger himself. “I’ll be over shortly,” he said. He’d have to drive; Jack and Maddie would wonder at his arrival otherwise. Well, Maddie would; her oaf of a husband was unlikely to think it odd if he turned up on their doorstep without an apparent means of transportation. “Let your parents know I’m coming.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small. More than just worried, she was genuinely scared. “Thanks.”

Vlad hung up the phone and absently reached over to pet Maddie. “It’s unlikely the disease is transmissible to humans,” he told her as she began purring. “The incubation period for most ecto-diseases is quite short, and I’m not aware of any exceptions that show those particular symptoms.”

Maddie meowed and turned her head so he could scratch beneath the other side of her chin.

“Yes. Quite right. I’ll take what precautions I can without arousing their suspicions. Whatever the cause, I’ll certainly not be immune.” He bent down to kiss her furry forehead and promised, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

XXXXX

Jazz knew she was hovering, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know how Danny was doing. Her parents hadn’t questioned her decision to call Vlad—they knew his fondness for Danny, if not the reasons behind it—and, if their murmured voices were any indication, they’d be glad of a second opinion.

They just didn’t know how knowledgeable that second opinion would be.

When Jazz spotted headlights through the upstairs window, she bolted down the stairs to the front door. She opened it to find Vlad on the stoop with his hand raised to knock. He looked…uncomfortable. She wondered if it was from the middle-of-the-night phone call, but then he shivered and scratched at his arm.

Not unlike Danny had been doing for the past week.

“Are Jack and Maddie experimenting with anything new?” he asked quietly, not moving to come inside.

Jazz stepped out to join him and closed the door behind her. “Nothing beyond the usual. I try to keep a close eye on all of that, for Danny’s sake.”

Vlad let out a hiss. “There’s…something here. Something familiar, but I don’t….” He glanced down at her slippered feet, and she realized what he wanted.

“I’ll grab my shoes,” she said, ducking back inside to slip on her shoes and a coat. She closed the door behind her again, finished shrugging on the coat, and asked, “Where did you want to go?”

“Just farther from here,” Vlad replied through gritted teeth, “so that I can think clearly.”

“Mom and Dad will be too busy to notice anyway,” Jazz said, leading the way at a quick clip. Vlad easily kept pace, and she began to fill him in on the details she hadn’t over the phone, answering his questions as best she could.

To her knowledge, Jack and Maddie had yet to make even an exploratory trip to the Ghost Zone, always finding something on the Spectre Speeder that should first be improved to maximize safety. While they were still actively developing new weapons, their power source remained the same, and she wasn’t aware of any experimental chemistry that might account for Danny’s illness. Likewise, he’d never told her of fighting anyone new, and she had yet to receive responses from Sam and Tucker to confirm that belief.

For his part, Vlad didn’t seem to think this was something spread from the other ghosts, at least not deliberately. “Biowarfare is hardly their style,” he said dryly, “and none of them would dare try something like that without checking with me.”

None who follow your lead, anyway, Jazz thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. Vlad had enough ears to the ground that he would have heard if any ghost was plotting something along those lines. She may not be sure of the exact number on his payroll, so to speak, but it was high. “But if it’s not something from the lab or something from the ghosts, what does that leave?”

Vlad stopped walking. “Nature.”

Jazz frowned at him. “Nature?” she echoed. “Like…like the stories of salt and iron and stuff like that?”

Vlad snorted. “Please, nothing so mundane. Tell me, have either of your parents taken up gardening?”

Jazz stared at him. “No—?” It wasn’t entirely true. Maddie always planted a small garden, just for show, and sometimes Jack would water or weed it, but most of the time, the flowers would be swallowed by invading grasses and other, faster-growing plants. The intended flowers never survived. She’d hardly call it gardening.

“Are you quite sure? There’s a particular plant to which all ghosts are extremely sensitive. Blood blossoms. I’ve built up a modest immunity myself, providing I stay in this form. The blossoms themselves are the worst—their mere fragrance triggers the pain centres in the brain—but touching any part of the plant will burn, including pollen.”

“So it’s ghost poison?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes. Its leaves, latex, roots— Every part of it is harmful to ghosts, halfas included, no matter how small the dose or limited the exposure.”

Jazz bit her lip. If the poison didn’t even need to be ingested to have an effect, that made it more likely that Danny had been indirectly exposed. After all, if her parents had planted blood blossoms somewhere, she certainly wouldn’t have noticed. Her plant-based knowledge was severely lacking, all things considered, and if she had seen it, she would have assumed it was just a normal plant. She’d never heard of any sort of ghost poison plant.

But if spores from the plant could be carried on the wind, or sap coating the leaves could linger on touched surfaces, or—

“They must have planted some,” Vlad said. “It would explain the downturn in ghostly activity I’ve noticed in your neighbourhood, and it would certainly explain poor Daniel’s worsening symptoms.”

Jazz decided not to ask. After what Danny had told her, she wasn’t entirely surprised to learn that Vlad kept the different sections of Amity Park under surveillance. “I’ll talk to Mom and—”

“You can only tell them the source of Daniel’s affliction,” interrupted Vlad, “if you’re ready to tell them everything on his behalf.”

Jazz frowned. She knew Vlad didn’t want her to say anything—for his sake more so than Danny’s, no doubt—but he wasn’t wrong, either. Still, Danny’s health was more important to her than his secret. This wouldn’t be the best way to reveal the truth, but if not knowing the truth meant Danny wasn’t getting the care he needed—

“I’ll convince them to put him in isolation, just in case,” Jazz said. “That won’t be hard. You can help them flush his system or whatever’s needed to make sure Danny gets better. I’ll deal with the plants.” She’d have to do it in a way so her mother didn’t know what happened—if Maddie realized the sabotage, she might try growing them again—but that wouldn’t be terribly hard, either. Jazz knew exactly where the salt was kept, and she was more than willing to ruin a patch of earth or a pot or whatever these blood blossoms were growing in to save her little brother. “Now, tell me exactly what these things look like.”

XXXXXXX

When Danny woke, his tongue was swollen, pressing against his teeth, and his mouth—throat—everything was dry. He must have made some small sound, as Maddie appeared in his vision. She wore the same heavy-duty HAZMAT suit she had when Sam and Tucker had contracted Vlad’s ecto-acne, and his heart sank.

He didn’t need his sudden awareness of the various beeping machines or the hanging plastic sheets to tell him that he had been placed under quarantine.

“Only take a few slow sips, sweetie, until we know if you can handle it,” Maddie warned as she passed him a cup of water with a straw.

He forced his mouth to close around the straw and sucked greedily, relishing in the glorious wetness of the drink until she took it away from him with a frown. “Slowly,” she repeated, and for a moment he thought she was going to keep it, but she gave it back to him. This time, he obeyed her instructions.

“You’ll need to drink plenty more, little badger,” Vlad said behind him, and Danny jumped. He twisted around to glare, but Vlad ignored him, as per usual. “Moving you to a sterile environment seems to have helped, but you are hardly in top condition.”

Danny scowled. “Did you just come here to tell me to drink fluids and get plenty of rest?”

Vlad raised his eyebrows, but Maddie was the one to speak, saying, “I know you aren’t feeling well, honey, but please don’t take that tone with Vlad. He’s been working closely with us since you crashed, and his suggestions have resulted in some undeniable improvements.”

“I’ll bet,” Danny muttered, but he knew he had no right to be upset. He had a vague memory of asking Jazz to call Vlad, after all. Louder, as much to please his mother as to assuage his conscience, he said, “Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Vlad. Thanks for helping me.”

“You’re most welcome, Daniel,” came Vlad’s reply, and Danny thought he was purposefully being irritating. “Now, as you said and as I’m sure your dear mother will agree, you should get plenty of fluids and rest. No, ah, strenuous activities.” Danny frowned, and Vlad added, “It’s best to keep you here, isolated and in observation, until we’re certain the danger has passed.”

Isolated and in observation, huh? Danny could translate that easily enough. He couldn’t use his powers without blowing his secret. Well, fine. He wasn’t really eager to jump back into ghost fighting right now, anyway. Turning intangible had hurt, and he didn’t want to repeat that experience.

Besides, he was feeling markedly better, so Vlad was probably on the level. Still a bit stuffed up, still a bit like his head was full of cotton, but the pain was gone.

And while he might not know what was in the IV that was connected to his arm, he could rest assured that it wouldn’t kill him or Vlad would’ve intervened.

“It’s a saline drip,” Vlad said, seeing his glance.

If Vlad was going to tell him anything else, it wouldn’t happen while Maddie was in the room. Danny nodded and looked over at his mom. “Can I get some more water, please?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be back in a moment. Vlad, why don’t you help him get comfortable sitting up in the meantime?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before leaving. Vlad also did not reach for the extra pillows Danny could very clearly see stacked in the corner of the room, but that was fine. Danny didn’t really care about that anyway. “What was this?” he whispered.

“You, my dear boy, are the victim of blood blossoms.”

Danny swallowed, remembering the pain they could bring. This had hurt, sure, but it wasn’t anything like it had been back in Salem. “How? Mom and Dad don’t use them, and you—”

“They may not use them yet, but someone—most likely your dear mother—planted some in a nice little window box outside of your kitchen. Jasmine assures me she’s killed them in a way that will discourage your parents from replanting.”

“Right,” Danny said slowly. “But this wasn’t…. This wasn’t like blood blossoms.”

Vlad snorted. “It may not be like your last encounter with them, but your sister showed me a picture of the plants so that I could confirm that they were, indeed, blood blossoms. I know exactly what they look like, Daniel, and clearly you’ll need to educate yourself on that front, too.”

“Are you seriously going to stand there and insult me when I’m in a makeshift hospital?”

Something in Vlad’s expression softened. “Your symptoms may not have been bad yet, little badger, but make no mistake. It would have been far worse if more than a single plant had been in bloom. Your body was clearly trying to rid itself of every blood blossom particle it had encountered these past few weeks, and it failed, as it inevitably would.”

Danny frowned. “Are you trying to tell me I’m allergic to blood blossoms?”

“An allergy is an understatement, my dear boy. Exposure to blood blossoms in high enough concentrations will not merely kill you; they’ll destroy your essence.”

Danny couldn’t help but make a face at that. “Comforting. And you knowingly used them on me why, exactly?”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “I said they’d destroy you in high enough concentrations. It takes a much smaller dose to merely incapacitate you.”

“Gee, thanks.” He was going to say more, but he saw the door open and his mother come in, carrying a glass of water, and his father bounding in behind her.

“Danny-boy! You’re awake!”

Danny laughed right up until the point his dad squeezed the breath from his body. “Yeah, Dad,” he choked out. “I’m feeling a lot better.”

Danny felt Vlad put some pillows behind him. “If you think you might be interested in a botany lesson, little badger, you’ll have to come over to my place and borrow one of my books. I’m sure you’d find it most illuminating.”

It took some effort not to make a face at that, too, but Vlad was trying to be helpful, and Danny was grateful for that. As long as he didn’t want a mid-morph sample or for Danny to renounce his father in exchange, that was perfectly fine with him. He wouldn’t mind learning something useful from the older halfa.

Besides, having a better knowledge of plants that could potentially destroy him would definitely be good. And even if the book Vlad had—assuming he actually had a book—was horrifically boring, Sam might find it interesting, and she could tell him the important bits.

“Thanks,” Danny said, and this time he meant it. “That’d be great.”

After all, if something useful was going to come out of this experience, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

(see more fics | my phight phics)

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 19 #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet #I should probably not post fics the same day I finish them #please let me know if you spot any stupid typos #my phic phight phics

79 notes · View notes

alyssaadamsonauthor · 4 years

Text

Claws

Streetlights passed overhead in metronomic rhythm—one, two, three, four—illuminating black upholstery—five, six, seven, eight—and white knuckles perched at the steering wheel’s upper crest—nine, ten, eleven, twelve…

Still, no matter what proof assured her she did move, Jamie felt no closer.

It had been so long since she’d last visited Alice at home that the memory of every right, left, right turn occurred to her with hardly the time to spin the wheel. A year ago this Christmas by her own measure, and only to pick up the USB drive she’d lent the younger girl for her Introductory Spanish final. Alice’s mom had been aghast that she wouldn’t stay for dinner, but she’d only come on her fifteen-minute break and wasn’t much a fan of spiral ham. Alice has told me so much about you, the elder had enthused with a toothy grin, but how could she, when her daughter knew so little already?

If she could’ve foretold Mrs. Marx’s struggles would claim her life by November, she liked to think she would’ve smiled a little brighter. Maybe spared a laugh. Come up with a better reply than, we don’t speak of you much.

She wouldn’t let that frigidity cloud any more cries for help. And after six weeks, three missed meetings, half a dozen calls sent to voicemail…Jamie knew it could be nothing but.

As the little houses and white picket fences of the suburbs turned to high apartment buildings and windows boarded up with wood planks, the streetlights thinned out, casting the sidewalks under darkness. Alice’s building looked much the same as all the others: about twenty stories high, red brick, and falling apart. Even from the ground, she could make out her window on the thirteenth floor by the duct tape holding the glass in frame. Dim light lived within.

Jamie frowned. “You can binge Netflix ‘til midnight but not pick up one phone call?” Surveying the teenagers—out too late for anything good—that watched her from the dark, she knew her new car wouldn’t be leaving this neighborhood unscathed. “You’d better be swinging up there, kid.”

Her stomach flipped. Maybe not swinging, but…bleeding…or crying. Something temporary.

She whispered a prayer for her Mustang as she threw herself from its front seat, locking the doors with a click of the remote in hand. Her coat caught on the heel of her boot—an unfortunate casualty of the office dress code. There hadn’t been time to change.

Unlike the buildings she’d acquainted herself with in Short Hills, there was no doorman or revolving door, or windows into a gleaming lobby—only a door, studded with chipping green paint beside a list of doorbells. Perhaps at one time they’d been used for unlocking the ancient door, but not anymore: a block of wood sat at its corner, propping it open.

Casting another look over her shoulder at the car, still well within view, Jamie appraised the worn slip of paper beside the number 1304: A. Marx. Her finger burned—six, seven, eight times—over the bell to the tune of a mechanical buzz.

“Come on, Alice,” she whined. This didn’t have to be a sleepover. If she could get a sniffled, Just a broken phone, Jamie. I’ll call you when I get a new one, she’d be home by one a.m. and back to work at seven.

A hope for naught. With every insistent buzz, she received no answer.

Jamie sighed. Whatever got stolen off her car, she would call it a win if she could still drive it after all this. The only thing worse than spending the night in this foul city would be staying for two.

The white light beyond the door blinded Jamie to a long hallway of nondescript doors. As her eyes adjusted, she picked out ripped wallpaper lining the walls, the stain of yellow along the ancient carpet, and garbage. Lots of garbage. From somewhere in the general vicinity of the elevator came moans that raised gooseflesh over her arms.

She darted for the stairs. Every cursed piece of gum and unidentified brown goo clung to her boot, but she shoved such trivialities away by the tenth floor in place of a baser need for oxygen. Her calves burned, arms aching to hold her up against the arm rail. By the time the thirteenth-floor landing approached, she’d already decided: if Alice was still alive, it was a temporary state. Jamie fully intended on pitching her out the window by night’s end.

Her fist against 1304’s door echoed down the hall. The upper floors, while at least devoid of the piss stains in the emerald carpets so prominent down below, didn’t get such an abundance of lightbulbs. These were the lower-watt kind, more of an amber than white and the one over Alice’s door had burned out. It had been burned out last year, too.

“Alice?” she hissed with another slam of her fist to the wood. She hissed when the door slipped a splinter into her pinky. “Ouch. Alice!” She kicked the door, to no answer. Forgetting all desire for quiet, she shouted, “Alice, open the door!”

She gripped the knob, waiting for the catch of the lock, but it turned easily, door swinging open without even the deadbolt’s interference.

Weird on a normal day, but, today, it raised every hair on her body. “A…Alice?”

The door groaned until it stopped short against the inner wall. Jamie stepped in, already entangled in a mess of Alice’s shoes strewn across the floor. Was that cause for concern? The last time she’d walked in, the place had been immaculate, but that had been Christmas…

On another step, she turned a corner into the living room to find a lamp, overturned. The hand-me-down sectional sat under a cover of its own snow-like innards and every pillow corpse lay empty across the floor. She crept in, picking at every little bit of fluff before she cast it to the floor. Alice didn’t lay within; rather; she’d stacked the cushions into a pile at the room’s center. The frame lay broken around it, sat up to wall the soft interior like a nest.

As Jamie stood, turning back toward the hall, she froze, meeting the wall that separated this room from the kitchen. It wasn’t the mess of canned spaghetti on the black and white tile that stopped her breath, or the sink, stacked high with pots, pans, plates, and half-eaten steak and other unidentified meats. Or even the fact that every cabinet’s white doors hung open.

It was the claw marks. Five, torn into the dry wall all the way to the pink insulation within.

“What?” she whispered, arm already half-outstretched to touch. At the first brush of jagged edges, she pulled it back to herself. Was this a joke? “Alice?”

No one answered, but, as she listened, she made out other sounds. Wet sounds, like the slurp of spaghetti.

That kid was fucking with her. What other reason could there be for this mess?

Nevertheless, she staggered ahead on feet that wanted nothing more than to turn back. This was an awful lot of work for a joke…

Water stained the hall carpet, product of a running toilet spilling across the floor. Beyond that, the bedroom door hung open, the only glow from the nearest building’s floodlight through the window.

The slurping grew as she edged closer, taking the doorway in both hands. Jamie leaned around the corner, fingers shaking, tongue dry around another call of Alice’s name.

Yellow eyes.

The gleam of teeth.

Blood. So much blood.

A man lay across the floor, body limp and head tilted back in deep unconsciousness. The porcelain shards of a lamp glimmered around him, a very few embedded in his temple.

The face that looked up from the end of the stranger’s arm was at once familiar and completely unrecognizable. Its mouth, stained red by the hand it had detached from the man’s wrist, housed four rows of teeth like serrated blades. Its yellow eyes glowed, wide and hungry, as it met her gaze. The creature had to be over six feet tall, skin nearly green and scaly in patches across its cheeks.

Still, it was very clearly Alice. At least, it was trying to be.

The Alice Jamie knew didn’t make five feet and had most certainly never had more than one row of perfect teeth, as she liked to display in the headshots she badgered her for an opinion on with every impending casting call. The shock of blonde hair had gone uncombed but they looked like they had, at one time, been the curls usually so pristinely arranged around her pixie face.

Jamie didn’t breathe. There wasn’t time.

With a deep growl, those alien eyes narrowed, Alice’s new, thick legs coiling beneath her. In a single kick, she threw herself across the room, arms outstretched to wrap around Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie shrieked. Dropped to her knees. Felt the air as Alice soared overhead.

The other girl hit the wall with an unholy crash, but she didn’t even hesitate to turn on Jamie, teeth bared and red and dirtied with the remnants of human flesh from its last snack. From her first step, Jamie threw herself into motion, taking off toward the front door on ankles buckling inward with every step.

The thing followed so close, Jamie could feel its every unsuccessful attempt to grab her shorn hair. As she neared the door, arms out to wrench it open and hopefully—hopefully—slip out before she got eaten, something like a knife dragged down the back of her neck, tearing her flesh open and turning her coat into nothing more than twin rags, sliding down her arms.

“Agh!” The pain was distraction enough. She hesitated for a mere instant with hand in mid-turn on the knob and pulling. It was all the time the creature needed to pin her against her only exit and slam it shut.

“A…Alice!” she shrieked, head smashing against the wood. Her ears rang, time slowing around her. Her words emerged as thick as the canned spaghetti. “Get off.”

The doppelganger pressed itself completely to her back, holding her in place with heavily muscled arms and legs. Its scales grated against the skin bared by her torn coat. Its tongue probed at the center of her back, trailing up the cut it had torn from her skin.

Tasting her.

Jamie’s body shook, so small in the arms of a predator. Instinct bubbled up inside her like impending vomit, urging that she scratch, bite, run, something before death tore her throat open with the same talons it had ripped through the drywall. It gripped her around the arms, cold to the touch and tearing her flesh with every light touch.

As its head dipped, it breathed over her neck, tossing her hair into her face. She swallowed hard, unable to move, unable to inhale, unable to speak. It reared back, jaw coming down around her shoulder with a snarl that reverberated all the way into her chest.

Pain exploded from every conceivable corner. Like needles and rocks and ice and fire and something Jamie knew no one could have felt before. There would’ve been a word for it if such a pain had existed before this moment. There would be books about it. Classes. Dissertations and lectures and statues.

Her body went limp, falling against the creature as it tore the sleeve of her shirt and four rows of teeth’s worth of flesh away from her whole. She slipped away, landing face-first on the carpet, but the creature didn’t seem to care.

Jamie glanced at the door through the haze of tears building within her eyes. Escape was so close, within reach, but her shoulder screamed so loudly she felt it in her legs, her arms, her face. She couldn’t find her limbs in her muddled brain to move them.

It chewed her. Loudly. And when it swallowed, it reached for her again, flipping her onto her back so the world around her was only glowing yellow.

Jamie’s lip quivered. This was it. Death. “Alice…P…please?”

The beast stilled in its descent toward her throat. Eyes like liquid gold flickered, yellow, then gray, then yellow, and gray again. Alice’s face, green and scaly, cooled. Her jaw snapped shut, lip turning down into a frown.

Her new, monstrous mouth opened to reveal a single row of inhumanly sharp teeth. Rather than its deep bellow, Alice’s voice emerged, “Jamie?”

The world around her swirled, but Jamie managed the smallest smile. “Y…yes. Yes. It’s Jamie.”

Alice withdrew, standing stiff to look back over her shoulder at her bedroom door. A whimper like a wounded dog passed her thin lip. Her body clenched, clawed hands gripping at the sides of her head. “Go away,” she cried. “Please, go away.”

Jamie reached for her. Perhaps it was the blood freely pouring from her shoulder. Perhaps it was the last of her fear festering where sympathies she’d never had before lied. She no longer saw the creature of scales and claws and teeth, even if that was exactly what stood over her. She saw herself, standing with arms over her head, pleading that the voices go away.

Her fingers breezed over Alice’s knees.

In one moment, the Alice-beast stood over her with mouth drooling Jamie’s blood.

In the next, she was gone.

#Original content #monster #blood #horror #thriller #read #thursday #romance #love #lovestory #author #book #blog #fiction #writing #story #chapter #beginning

1 note · View note

tarquinteague · 4 years

Photo

Y’know you can’t hold me forever...

He hated the questions about his romantic life, like when he first fell in love. Quin had an answer, not that he was going to share it. He was a kid, eighteen or nineteen years young, and planning to move from Scarborough to Birmingham with the her. They’d been together since he moved out of his parent’s house and bounced from place to place while he sold weed and transitioned to selling dope. They’d been buying their pot from the same guy and and while it mellowed him out, Quin noticed her constant exuberance. Little did he know, there was more than pot in her pockets.

There was a lot of hate in him; for his father, for his twin who no longer wanted to be part of the hustle, for the system that made it impossible for him to find a legitimate job and kept his chosen family on the streets. Though she knew he was a cynic, a lush, and a realist, she tried to show him new things. She showed him the love in him, too; for his mother, for his baby brother, and for hard work... even if it wasn’t honest money. She accepted his darkness with the light, minimal as it was.

Quin brushed the short brown hair from her face, a few strands sticking to her clammy skin. It was that time of summer where the weather couldn’t decide if it was going to turn cool or not and their bed of sleeping bags in the factory they were squatting in was always too hot or cold. The back of his fingers brushed across his forehead, noting its warmth but not thinking to be alarmed. “C’mon, let’s get some food in you.” He jostled her awake before turning away to empty the pockets of his clothes lying around for whatever money he had left between jobs, only to find himself frustrated.

When he turned around she’d only managed to sit up, “I could go get something and bring it back If you’re not up for it.” She waved off the gesture and pointed to her clothes. He brought them over and she clumsily got dressed. Quin pressed his lips to the top of her head but she gently shoved him off. “What?”

“We both stink and you know why.” She groped him and he laughed as he helped her up. Her slight frame was painted with bruises from nights of play, each one a different story and before he could read her skin like a book she smacked his hand off her rear. “Food first. The little shop two down?”

It wasn’t the cheapest shop, but the owner was usually nice if she was the one paying and today it would have to all go to feeding her. Quin didn’t think much of it, knowing he could pick off what he needed while she was cat napping the late afternoon away if he encouraged her to do so, since she wasn’t looking well. The walked the street arm in arm, Quin stealing kisses as he tugged her over and over to his lips and she hugged her empty stomach rather than swatting him off, well, not until they walked into the shop and she peeled herself away to go to the bathroom.

Swallowing, he moved up to the counter and nodded at the stone-faced owner. As he pressed the clump of bills from his pocket against his thigh to flatten them out, the owner groaned. “What’ll this get her?” His eyes darted toward the bathroom and back before awkwardly adding, “... and be able to leave a tip.” The man looked at the cash on the counter, took half of it and set off to work. Quin’s mouth bobbed open to say thank you and thought better of it, tucking half of what was left in the tip jar before heading to the bathroom to clean himself up.

Setting the timer on his phone for five minute, he took a quick leak and started to clean himself in the sink, rinsing the thick brown paper towels in water and wiping himself off, chucking them, and repeating, using soap where he could without soaking his clothes in the small space. The alarm beeped and he quickly got dressed and popped out refreshed. Squinting through the shop, he looked for his girl’s brown head peaking over the edge of a booth. The twinge of unease that she’d left set in and he moved to the counter. “Did she step out?” He asked a little too loud that the owner scowled at him when he turned around as he shook his head no. The bathrooms were gendered, but for single use, the women’s was large enough for wheelchair access. Quin knocked on the door worried. “Love, you all right in there?”

Running back to the counter he begged the manager to open the door, telling him that she’d not been feeling well and that he felt something wasn’t right. To Quin it felt like ages and he’d already rushed back to the door, knocking before the man could grab the keys. The scene inside was one that Quin had seen before, but he had never expected from her. The man blocked the doorway horrified and Quin shoved him out of the way. “Call for an ambulance.” His voice cracked as he yelled at the man, practically slipping on the bloody floor as he moved over the brunette. He undid the belt on her arm and pulled out the dirty needle from her arm. There were tracks in the crook of her arm that he hadn’t noticed before, bruises from ropes, painted over them. He dug through her purse for an answer as to who’d she’d gotten the dope from.

Finding the baggie and immediately recognizing the loggo he shoved it in his pocket and jostled her. “Wake up. Please, Lib, open your eyes.” Her lips turned blue and he reached for paper towels to put to her head, where blood was still pooling from where her head must have smacked the toilet when she collapsed. Just as he was about to check for a pulse she started to seize and he pulled her gently out away from the wall and bathroom, putting her on her side as she dry heaved onto the floor. When had he started crying, Quin couldn’t be sure, but his vision blurred and he could tased the snot on his lips as he prayed to a god he didn’t particularly believe in.

When she stopped moving he could hardly see any life left in her, she was so pale. His finger were sticky with blood, but Quin hovered over her and started chest compressions. Like a mad man he bounced on her chest, riddled with the fear of crushing her and losing her. He’d lost count of how long he’d been going by the time the EMTs pulled him off. It didn’t take much effort, as he’d been running on empty before he’d even walked into the shop. All the questions overwhelmed him and the anger rose in him. He answered nothing, instead yelling with every ounce of breath left in his lungs for them to help her. It wasn’t until the cops restrained him that he shook his head and managed to think clearly... or rather with his own logic.

It was as if Quin had grown up in the blink of an eye, as if a switch had been flipped. Through the tears he started answering their questions. It was a heroin overdose but he’d only ever seen her smoke pot, that he didn’t know how long she was using but that she seemed sick that morning. Her age, her birthday, her weight, her parents names... bit by bit he pieced together this image of his love that was so topical. Then they let him go after he ran out of information. He didn’t wait to see what she looked like in a plastic bag.

The owner ran after him, shoving money into his pockets, a doggie bag into his right hand, and coffee into his left. Nothing was said, he walked on in silence. In the factory, he shuffled aimlessly through their things and pulled out his two guns and spare clips, packed everything else up, and stashed the gear in one of the dingy unused offices. Quin wasn’t thinking about coming to get it, he was thinking about ending the business for good.

No one would ever believe it, one man cleaning house on the local dealers, ending the competition and putting a match to all the product, scaring the shit out of anyone still carrying dope to sell. The money wasn’t gone though, it was “repurposed”. Maybe a stronger man would have let it burn with the empire or put the gun to their own head to remove themselves from the deaths they caused. Not Quin.

As the young man looked at his blood covered body and the smoking guns in his hands through a reflection in a mirrored armoire, he decided to change the game. He scrubbed his skin raw in the shower, picked away the blood under his nails, and swallowed away the grief choking the air in his lungs. Quin left his clothes to burn with the house, taking the big boss’ and making a single call. In the end it wasn’t hard to pin some of the crime on him. The dead girl and his own priors were enough to make him a suspect. He’d get pinned with what they could, but the money and murders, the charges that could’ve been life, somehow eluded him and he grew more confident in this new plan and his new persona.

No one called him Quin without his permission, touched him without his permission, or offered up anything to be dealt but the purest drugs and clean weapons. His operation was about doing the job well, with knowledge of every client and item in inventory. Half of the new job was about knowing people’s vices, the other about managing people’s secrets and, after years of it, he became numb to the reality that he was working so hard and in a certain way because of that day and that relationship. It was as if he had exerted every ounce of love and hope into her chest and she’d spent it up in her final moments. His inability to save her or to clean himself of the physical and emotional filth of his past had left him cold and dead himself.

So, Quin detested questions of his past, but there was someone who intrigued him just enough and, with time, had made him comfortable enough, to beat around the bush to a little sliver of his past. With whiskey on her lips as he bound her into an intricate shibari chest piece that kept her hands submissively held in front of frame, the Scottish lilt hummed her usual question to share one thing about him that no one else knew. His blue-green eyes looked into the depth of her hazel eyes and he told her in quietly, the name of the ghost he hadn’t said in almost two decades. “On every date, you know how someone always feels the need to ask who broke your heart to make you the way you are? I always hated that question, refused to answer it because I’m my own reason for being the man I am. My own choices brought me here.” His eyes didn’t well up, his voice didn’t crack, but the name sat there at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be shared with the curious little one who had been perched on the spikes of his iron gate defenses for nearly a year. “Elizabeth, Lizzy to her friends, Libs to me.” With the utterance of her name, he finally laid the ghost to rest.

#ref: canon #lartarquin #ref: past #loc: scarborough #tw: crime #tw: drugs #ref: tattoos #para: yknow you cant hold me forever #para #tw: death #tw: loss #tw: grief #tw: arson #tw: murder #tw: robbery #tw: overdose

1 note · View note

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Something New- Chapter 7 (Trixya) - Julie

AN: This is going to be the last chapter of Something New! Thank you so much for reading and thank you for all your lovely feedback! It really motivated me to keep going.

Chapter 7 includes: a hair crisis, Kim being a good friend and Brian’s parnets. Tw for some transphobic comments.

Thanks for reading! - Julie

Brian was woken up by a loud cough. He jerked up and blinked a few times. The room was well-lit and his curtains didn’t do much to keep the sun out.

“What the fuck?”, he asked confused when he spotted Kim standing next to his bed, hands on his hips. He raised an eyebrow at Brian.

“Good morning”, he said.

“What’s going on?”, Katya asked next to Brian and his head whipped around, having forgotten that she was there. Her hair was a mess and she had pulled up the blanket to cover her breasts. She still was the most beautiful woman Brian had ever seen. She blinked at him with tiered eyes.

“What time is it?”, Brian asked Kim and he let out a laugh.

“It’s 12.”

“Oh fuck”, Katya groaned. Brian glanced at his alarm clock to make sure Kim wasn’t lying. He groaned as well when he saw that he was in fact telling the truth.

“Where’s Keira?”, Brian asked, his voice slightly panicked. He didn’t want her to burst into the room, seeing Katya in his bed. He didn’t have the energy to explain that right now and so he was glad when Kim assured him that she was in her room.

“How did you even get in here?”, Brian demanded to know. He was more awake now, and able to think a bit more clearly.

“Your door was open”, he explained, “it seems you were too busy to close it last night”, Kim nodded at Katya and Brian put his face in his hands embarrassed. But Katya just giggled and the sound of her laugh made Brian feel oddly comfortable.

“Fuck off”, he said, the sound muffled by his hands but Kim understood him anyway.

“I’m going to make coffee”, he said and went over to the door. There he turned around and let his gaze wander between Brian and Katya.

“And put some goddamn clothes on!”, he said before leaving Brian’s room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Brian sank back into his pillows and groaned loudly. This was not how he had planned this. Granted, he hadn’t planned anything but if he had, Kim finding out about them like this would have not been involved his his plan. He groaned again, thinking of the merciless teasing that would probably await him the next few weeks at work.

Katya snuggled closer to him and pressed a light kiss to his shoulder.

“Good morning”, she said in a soft voice and then she giggled again.

“This is awkward”, Brian sighed and she laughed.

“I need a cigarette”, she said and Brian could feel her warm body next to his own move. She got out of the bed, naked, and went over to her purse. Brian had to hold back a moan when she bent over, presenting her ass. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and a lighter and walked over to his window. She opened it and lit her cigarette.

There was a naked woman in his room, smoking.

Brian rubbed his temples and wondered if this might be a dream.

He got up with a sigh and went over to his wardrobe taking out two boxershorts and two shirts. He laid one pair on his bed for Katya and put on the other one.

“I’m going to look after Keira”, he said and Katya acknowledged it with a nod, while she was blowing smoke out of the window.

Brian closed the door behind him quietly, and rested against it for a moment. Then he walked over to Keira’s room. She wasn’t there but Kim had heard him opening the door.

“Kitchen”, he called out.

Keira was sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs dangling of it. Kim shoved a cup of coffee in Brian’s hands when he entered the room and he smiled at him gratefully.

“Hey honey”, he said and pressed a kiss to Keira’s forehead before leaning on the counter next to her, “how was sleeping at Kim’s?”

“I want to go again!”, Keira’s eyes lit up, “we watched two movies and I was allowed to eat a whole bowl of popcorn!”, she recounted excitedly.

“That sounds fun”, Brian said and took a sip of coffee. He almost choked on it when Katya entered the room. She had brushed her hair, so that it was falling down her shoulder now, slightly curled. She was wearing his shirt, that was a bit too big for him and it almost looked like a dress on her. It went down to her thighs and she hadn’t put on the boxers that he had laid out for her. She was barefoot and in his shirt she looked tiny.

She grabbed a cup of coffee and winked at Keira.

“Morning, sweetheart”, she said. If Keira was confused she didn’t let it show.

“Did you have a sleepover too?”, she asked and Kim let out a stiff laugh.

“You could say so”, Katya said, ignoring Kim. She took Keira’s hand and inspected her nails. The nail-polish was already chipped.

“Hey do you want to come up later to redo your nails?”, Katya asked, changing the topic cleverly.

Keira nodded excitedly.

Katya moved so she was now standing next to Brian, her side pressing into his.

“Keira”, Kim said, “why don’t you go to your room and set up something to play with?” Brian knew that this was a manoeuvre for Kim to get to speak with him and Katya alone and he couldn’t even be mad at his friend. Keira hopped off the counter and bounced to her room giddily.

When they heard her door shut, Kim turned around to look at them with raised eyebrows.

“Soo”, he said, “anything you want to tell me?”

“It’s none of your business”, Brian mumbled into his cup, before gulping down the last sip of coffee.

“It is, when I come to bring Keira over and your still asleep”, Kim sounded offended.

“Look, Kim”, Brian said pitting down his cup, “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t know what you want to hear from us.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious”, Katya chimed in, “why do you want details?”

“Ew no!”, Kim said and his face scrunched up.

“Just- don’t let me find you in bed together, I guess?”

“Noted”, Katya said and Brian was well too aware of the implication that this hadn’t been a one time thing. That Katya wanted to repeat their night together.

“I’m going to look after Keira”, Kim said, “don’t-” he threw his hands up and left without finishing the sentence.

Suddenly Katya was I front of Brian, pressing him against the counter. Her face was so close to his and he could smell her morning breath. He was surprised to find that he didn’t mint it at all. Katya stood on her toes to reach Brian’s lips with her own and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. Brian put his arm around her waist but before he could pull her in even closer he heard Kim’s voice.

“Jesus Christ it has been ten seconds”, he complained and Katya quickly twisted herself free from his embrace.

“Uh Brian you should probably come see this”, Kim said and he sounded unsure.

“What is it?”, Brian asked slightly nervous at Kim’s tone.

“Just…look”, Kim said and Brian followed him to what he thought would be Keira’s room but Kim passed it and motioned to the bathroom instead. Brian looked at him questioningly but Kim only pushed him forward.

“Oh God”, was the only thing he could say as he looked at Keira sitting on the closed toilet.

“What have you done?”

Keira was holding a scissor and the ground beneath her was covered in strands of hair. The hair still on her head only reached the tip of her ears instead of falling down her shoulders. It looked uneven and the left side was longer than the right. It looked a mess.

“What’s going on?”, he could hear Katya ask behind him and then an “Oh”, as she spotted Keira who had crossed her arms defiantly.

“I cut my hair”, she said.

“I see”, Katya said and her voice sounded a bit unsure.

“Keira”, Brian crouched down in front of her, “why did you do this?”

“Because I wanted to”, she said and Brian tried to control his breathing to not get mad.

“I think it looks fabulous”, Katya said behind him and his head whipped around to glare at her.

“You should have asked me”, he said to Keira, his voice decidedly calm.

“Why?”, she asked and Brian couldn’t help but to raise his voice slightly.

“Because you can’t just cut your own hair! Look how short it is now!”

“Jacob in my class has short hair too”, Keira complained and her bottom lip was trembling. Brian could see that she was on the verge of tears and he did not want her to throw a tantrum now.

“Yeah but Jacob is-”, he started and then he abruptly stopped when he realised what he was about to say. But he knew that everyone in the room already knew what he had wanted to say, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

But Jacob is a boy.

He slowly turned his head to look at Katya. She was standing there, in his too big t-shirt. Her mouth was open in disbelief and she shook her head slightly when his eyes met hers. She turned around, her hair flipping over her shoulder. She walked away without saying a word and Brian flinched when he heard the door snap shut.

“You fucked up royally”, Kim said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, thank you”, Brian snapped and then Keira started to cry. Brian wished he was four too, so he could just join her. He certainly felt like crying.

“Honey it’s okay”, he said while uncrossing her arms to take her hands.

“I’m not mad.”

“But Katya is”, Keira sobbed and Brian could feel his heart shatter.

“She’s not mad at you”, he promised while running his hand up and down her arm, “She’s mad at me. I said something mean.”

He took a piece of toilet paper to dry her tars and Keira sniffled.

“What did you say?”, she asked and Brian sighed. He leaned against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Kim was still standing in the door frame.

“Do you remember a few days ago when you asked what trans meant?”, Brian asked and Keira nodded.

“Well, sometimes boys or girls are born in the wrong body. Sometimes a girl is born as a boy.”

“Why?”, Keira asked and Brian shrugged.

“I’m not sure. You know, some people can’t pet dogs without sneezing? It’s just a genetic mistake.” Keira nodded.

“And Katya was born as a boy even though she is a girl. And that’s very hard. She felt like something was wrong with her, when she was growing up.”

“But there isn’t anything wrong with Katya!”, Keira interrupted him.

“No there isn’t. But when I said that you couldn’t have short hair because you are not a boy that really hurt her feelings. Because when she was growing up there were people who told her that he couldn’t do things because she wasn’t a girl.”

“But she is”, Keira said and Brian nodded.

“She is, yes. But not everyone could see that right away. And I want you to know that you can be whatever you want to be and that you can have any haircut in the world because I will love you regardless.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Keira’s now short hair.

“I want to be a girl”, she said and he smiled into her hair.

“And girls can have short hair”, he said, “I was being stupid.”

Keira giggled at that.

“You’re a stupid Daddy.”

Kim huffed behind them.

“Yes he is”, he said and took a step forward to put his hands on Brian’s shoulders in a comforting way, “and he’s going to have to apologise.”

“I will”, Brian said and stood up. Keira’s eyes were still red but she was smiling now.

Suddenly a shrill sound interrupted them and it took Brian a while to realise that his phone was ringing. Which was weird. Because no one ever called him. No one except for – Brian groaned when he saw the caller ID and realised he was right.

“Yes?”, he asked as he picked up and he really was doing his best to not sound annoyed but he couldn’t help it.

“Brian!”, his mother chirped, too loud. She still didn’t understand that she didn’t have to shout all the way from Milwaukee for him to hear her.

“Hi mum”, he said and Kim gave him a sympathetic look.

“Brian, we’re in LA, we’re going to be there in 2 hours”, his mother declared and Brian almost screamed.

“Why didn’t you say something? I could have plans for all you know!”, Brian said angrily and his mother made a disapproving sound on the other line.

“We wanted to surprise you. We haven’t seen Keira in a while”, his mother explained and Brian looked at his daughter with panic in his eyes. She looked horrible, her hair was cut unevenly and there was no way in hell that his mother would find the whole thing funny. She would somehow find a way to blame it on him and then she would make Brian feel guilty and accuse him of being a bad father. A girl needs a mother, she would say and sooner or later Brian would run out of arguments or simply out of energy to have a discussion with his mother. His dad would stand there and nod along, occasionally making affirmative grunts. Always, always siding with his wife, never with Brian.

“Listen, mum, this is really not a good time”, he tried to speak up but he was soon cut off by her.

“Oh, nonsense! We’ll be there soon! Love you”, and with these words she hung up, leaving Brian defenceless and without a choice.

“Are they coming?”, Kim asked. He could probably read Brian’s face.

“In two hours”, he said and looked around. He would have to clean the bathroom, there was hair lying everywhere. He should probably vacuum the kitchen as well and his parents would expect coffee and cake. Keira looked a mess but it was Sunday and there would be no hair salons opened today. He could cut it himself but he didn’t have the right equipment and he hadn’t cut hair in years. There was also no time and there was still Katya.

Katya who probably hated him by now.

He hadn’t realised that he was shaking until Kim took his trembling hands in his.

“We’ve got this”, he said, looking Brian in the eyes.

“I’ll clean and bake a cake or something, okay? You go talk to her.”

“She won’t talk to me”, Brian whispered.

“Then you will talk until she has no choice”, Kim said sternly and began to lead Brian to the front door.

“I can't”, Brian said and he wanted to turn around but Kim blocked the way.

“Fucking go”, he said and pushed him out of the door.

Brian stood in front of his door for at least ten minutes, contemplating what he was going to say. When he finally climbed up the stairs and knocked on Katya’s door he had forgotten every word he had so carefully put together. It didn’t matter, because Katya didn’t open the door. Brian knocked again and again but Katya ignored him.

“Katya?”, he finally called out and he was shocked at how broken down his own voice sounded, “Katya, please. I know you’re there, I-”, he exhaled, “I was a fucking idiot, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Katya”, he could feel tears well up in his eyes.

“I know that you probably don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again but I’m sorry. I am so so sorry.” He immediately shut up when he could hear shifting behind the door.

“Katya?”, he called out after a few seconds of silence. Nothing.

“Keira thought that it was her fault somehow”, he said and at the mention of Keira’s name the door was being opened slowly. Katya was still wearing his shirt. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and Brian could feel a tug in his stomach.

“I hope you explained to her that you are the one who is a massive dickhead”, Katya said and he could hear that she was trying to sound confident but her voice broke at the last second.

“I did”, Brian reassured, “I did and I explained what trans means and I told her that it didn’t matter and-”

“God Brian, it’s a fucking haircut. It doesn’t mean that she’s fucking trans”, Katya interrupted.

“I know!” Brian said and he put his hands up just to let them fall to his side again, “what I’m trying to say is, that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to me, Katya.”

“Well, it should”, Katya said crossing her arms.

“I mean it matters but I don’t like you any less or more because of it”, Brian said helplessly, “I like you for you and I don’t care that you’re a woman. Maybe I’m not that gay, I don’t know. But I don’t care. I like you. I really do. And so does Keira. And I know that I fucked up big time. And I’m sorry.” He looked at her, trying to read her face. She was biting the inside of her cheek and her arms were still crossed.

“You are such an idiot”, she finally said, but her face softened, “I forgive you.”

Brian could feel the knot in his stomach loosen and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you”, he said and stood there unsure for a moment. Katya blinked at him and he took a step forward to wrap his arms around her. He was hugging her tight, but not too tight. He could feel her breath against his neck as he hugged him back.

“Thank you”, he whispered again against the top of her head.

They stood there in Katya’s hallway for a while, embracing each other. Eventually Brian pulled back to look her in the face. He gently kissed the corner of her mouth.

“I’m still mad”, she said and he quickly drew back but he could see that she was smiling.

“I need to go back downstairs”, he said after a while, “my parents just announced that they were coming. God, that’s gonna be a mess”, he groaned.

“Oh”, Katya said, “they’re not gonna like Keira’s new hair are they?”

“They are going to fucking flip”, he confessed, “very,and I mean very traditional gender roles. Having a gay son who’s a single dad almost brought my mother to her grave”, he joked.

“Well semi-gay”, he added when Katya raised her eyebrows slightly.

“Plus you can’t argue that Keira isn’t the most talented hairstylist.”

“I think she looks amazing”, Katya said, “asymmetry should be celebrated more across the world.” Brian laughed but Katya’s look suggested that she hadn’t been joking.

“Wait are you serious?”, he asked.

“Dead”, she said, “but I can see why your parents maybe wouldn’t be into it. My mum’s a hairstylist, I can take Keira there and ask if she can fix it?”, Katya suggested and Brian could have kissed her. He didn’t, only because the had just fought and it didn’t seem appropriate, but he definitely felt like it.

“Katya, that would save my ass. Thank you. I really owe you.” Katya simply shrugged.

“You’re lucky I still think your ass is cute.”

Brian and Kim had worked a miracle, Brian was sure of it. When his parents arrived, his house smelled of a freshly baked banana bread and coffee. The floor in his kitchen was spotless and not a single hair was to be found in the bathroom. He had fluffed the pillows on the couch and Kim had karate-choped them “to entertain the stereotypes”. He had left precisely five minutes before his mum had knocked on the door, making it look like Brian had done all the work by himself. There was only one problem.

“Where’s Keira?”, his mum said, looking around instead of a greeting.

“Hello to you too”, Brian grumbled but his mum just stalked past him, pushing her coat between his arms, signalling for him to hang it on the coat rack.

“Hello, son”, his father said, somewhat awkwardly and Brian nodded.

“Hey.”

“So where is she?”, his mum called from the kitchen and Brian sighed.

“She should be here any second. I told you it wasn’t a good time!”

He went to the kitchen, where his mother was sitting in one of the chairs. His dad trotted behind him.

“I should warn you, though, she-”

“We’re here!”, he was interrupted by Katya. She came into the kitchen.

“Oh”, she said, when she spotted Brian’s parents, “they’re already here.”

His mother gasped when she saw Keira. Suddenly Brian regretted that they hadn’t seen her before Katya took her to her mum, because she looked much better. Her hair was a tad shorter now but much more even. Pat had put a bit of gel in them so they were styled. Brian had to admit, that it suited her. She looked a little bit cheeky.

“What have you done?”, his mother asked Brian aghast. He put his hands up in defence.

“I haven’t done anything”, he said, “it was Keira’s idea”, he turned to face his daughter, “you look amazing, honey, that’s much better.”

“Don’t you dare to think I’m stupid, I know that was your idea”, his mother hissed.

“Nope”, Keira simply said, popping the p, “I did it. And Pat.”

His mum turned to Katya know, acknowledging her for the first time.

“Are you Pat?”

“Uh no, that’s Katya”, Brian jumped in, “she’s my, uh, Katya.” His mother looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“She’s my neighbour”, Brian said blushing, “Pat is her mother. She’s a hairdresser.”

“Hi”, Katya said and extended her hand towards Brian’s mother. She didn’t take it. Instead she focused on Keira.

“But you had such pretty blonde hair!”, she complained and it sounded accusatory.

“Mum, please. It’s just hair”, he said, trying to defend his daughter, “it grows back.”

“I don’t want it to grow back”, Keira said, crossing her arms. I like it.”

Brian wondered how a four year old got that much confidence.

“What is that?”, his mother asked all of the sudden and took Brian’s hand.

“Uh, nail-polish?”, Brian stammered.

“Why?”, his mother asked, her eyes widening.

“Because Keira- God, Mum, I’m 24, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”, he said drawing his hands back. His mother raised her eyebrows.

“I think it looks nice”, Katya chimed in and her mother glared at her.

“I do not recall, asking for your opinion, Katie.”

“Katya”, Brian said and now it was his turn to be glared at.

“Let’s just all sit down to have some coffee”, his father said, trying to ease the tension.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you”, Katya said and Brian could tell by her voice that she didn’t mean it.

“You can stay if you want”, he said and his mother gasped again.

“I thought this was supposed to be a family thing”, she said and Brian whipped around.

“This wasn’t supposed to be anything”, he growled, “this is my flat and when I say Katya can stay, she can stay”, his voice sounded angrier than intended and his mother was clearly taken aback, her mouth was hanging open, gaping like a fish.

“No it’s fine”, Katya said and looked at Brian’s mother, “I don’t want to disturb anything.” She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Brian’s cheek.

“I’ll talk to you later”, she whispered and turned around. She ruffled through Keira’s hair as she walked away, messing it up again. Keira giggled and walked over to the table to sit next to her grandmother. Brian sighed and poured his parents and himself some coffee while Keira got a glass of orange juice.

“Thank you”, she said and Brian felt a tiny pang of victory over her showing politeness in front of his parents.

They sat down and ate in silence.

“That Katya-”, his mother started and Brian involuntarily tightened the grip around his fork, “is she a man?”

“No”, he said, not wanting to discuss Katya with his parents.

“She’s trans”, Keira piped up, proud to present the new word she learned. Under any other circumstances Brian would have been proud too, but Keira had now undoubtedly proven herself to have terrible timing.

“Where did you learn that word?”, his father asked.

“From Daddy”, Keira answered.

“Don’t you think she’s a little young to know about such things?”, his father asked, looking at Brian sternly.

“No, I do not”, Brian said, “she’s perfectly able to understand ‘such things’.”

“Well, do you think it’s good that she’s growing up under the influence of people like that?”, his mother asked, “If you ask me she’s too young to-”

“I didn’t ask you”, Brian interrupted her, his voice raised.

“Brian-”, his father said warningly, but Brian ignored him.

“If you have something against the way I raise my daughter or the people I surround myself with, you are more than welcome to leave”, he said through gritted teeth.

“We just think, that it would be best for Keira to come to Milwaukee for a while. This city isn’t right for a young girl”, his mother said and Brian was just about to say something when Keira spoke up.

“I don’t want to come to Milwaukee. I like it here and I like Katya. She’s my friend.”

A wave of affection for his daughter hit Brian.

“Keira that decision isn’t up to you”, his mother said and Brian had to control himself to not yell.

“But it is up to me, and when Keira says she wants to stay, then Keira stays.”

“Brian.”

“Mum”, he said challengingly.

“You are on very thin ice here”, she warned and Brian couldn’t help but to laugh out loud.

“I am?”, he asked, “This is my flat. And I think it’s best that you leave now.”

“Are you throwing us out?”, his mother asked shocked and Brian stood up.

“Yes, I am. Are you honestly surprise by that? You come into my house, insult my daughter and my friend and basically tell me that I’m not a good father? I don’t need to hear that right now.”

His mother gasped for air.

“This is unbelievable”, she said and turned to her husband, “come on, we’re leaving.”

This was typically her, Brian thought. Making it look like she had made the decision to leave. But he wasn’t going to correct her, risking to start a new argument. He walked over to the door, opening it, and handed her her coat.

His parents left without another word.

He knocked on Katya’s door again, after he had put Keira to bed. After his parents had left he had talked to her, feeling bad that she had to witness the fight between her dad and her grandparents. But she seemed fine and not all too phased by it. She was mostly just excited for school on Monday to show Jacob and her other friends her new hair style.

He had called Kim to tell him how the unfortunate visit ended and to thank him for his help. Kim had asked if he needed Monday off but Brian had declined thankfully. He needed a distraction. And now he was back where it all started, standing in front of Katya’s door, hearing her shift behind it.

How’d it go?”, she asked as she opened her door but her face and voice already disclosed that she knew.

“Terribly”, Brian answered anyway and Katya opened the door more so he could come in. They sat next to each other on Katya’s couch.

“I had to throw them out”, he said after telling her the whole story, “They were acting unbelievable.”

“You stood up for yourself. And for Keira. That takes courage, especially if it’s your own parents.”

“I guess so”, he shrugged, “I’m just worried that they are going to take her anger of on Keira. They’re the only family she has.”

“She has you”, Katya interjected, “and she has Kim. And if you ever need any help, you know where to find me. A family doesn’t always need to be connected by blood.”

Brian smiled at her suggesting that she considered herself part of Keira’s family.

“You’re right”, he said.

“I always am”, she agreed and then her body was shaking with the laughter, Brian loved so much.

“What are we going to do?”, she asked after she calmed down.

“What do you mean?”, he asked but he knew what she meant.

“Us two”, she said and Brian noticed her hand twitching nervously. He took them in his.

“We can try this. If you want. Maybe we can go for dinner again? To another place, though, I don’t need your friends threatening to cut off my dick again.” Katya threw her head back and laughed, her hands still in Brian’s.

“Let’s try it”, she agreed, “and I’m sure we’ll find another restaurant. I’m always open to something new.”

#something new #trixya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #au #single dad trixie #trans!katya #fluff #julie #rpdr fanfiction #m/f au #trans character

61 notes · View notes

hyodo-juza · 7 years

Text

I’m posting this a bit early due to some circumstances, but I hope you enjoy @frenzydaydreamer! Happy Valentine’s Day! You can also read this on AO3 and Fanfiction.net.

Jitsui looked at each passing dorm for the combination of numbers that were saved on his phone, searching for the right room that he needed. Room 9082 was two lefts around the corner on the second floor and to the right of the hallway vending machine. Jitsui followed the directions exactly as he was given, finally seeing the snack machine against the wall and knocking on the door across from it.

Jitsui had his backpack hanging from his shoulder that carried his notebook and French textbook inside. Jitsui had unfortunately caught the flu that was going around campus last week and because of it, he had spent his Wednesday evening hunched over the toilet instead of showing up to class.

As soon as he recovered, Jitsui sent an emergency text message to his class group chat online begging for the notes he missed that were vital in passing the midterm that was just a few days away. The only one that managed to reply was a student named Hatano, who was willing to spare enough time for Jitsui to copy what he had written down last week, as long as he didn’t have to leave the comfort of his dorm room. Jitsui had agreed to the conditions, asking for his room number and a time to arrive.

When the door opened, Jitsui was greeted with the sight of someone that was obviously not Hatano. He had never seen him in his class, though he did look familiar from somewhere. Jitsui must have seen him walking around campus once, he decided. “Is Hatano here?”

The other looked him and then back into the room behind him, as if searching. After a few seconds, he turned back and nodded, moving away to let him inside.

Jitsui accepted the invitation and closed the door behind him, spotting Hatano at a desk to his left with a binder open in front of him. He walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, realizing then that Hatano had earbuds in.

The tap made Hatano stop what he was doing and look up, pulling an earbud out. His eyes widened a bit, probably because he hadn’t noticed him come in.

Jitsui had finally recognized who he was now that he knew his face. Hatano was one of the few that took constant notes in the class and he was always seated near the wall and a few rows in front of him. He hardly spoke and usually sat alone, not to mention one of the first students to leave when the class was over. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Hatano pulled the other earbud out and set it on the desk. “No, I was just reviewing some stuff for class.” Hatano looked around before staring up at Jitsui from his chair again. “You can grab Miyoshi’s spare chair on his side and bring it over.”

“Thanks for asking.” Miyoshi said sarcastically from the other side of the room, the student seated on his bed with a laptop in front of him.

“You’re not using it,” Hatano retorted, but the expression on his face made it obvious that their bickering was normal.

Jitsui only did what Hatano told him to do and walked to the other desk by Miyoshi’s bed, dragging the wooden chair across the carpet and pulling it next to Hatano’s. He sat down and pulled off his backpack to dig out what he needed, watching as Hatano cleared the desk of his own things to make proper room. “I’m sorry I had to ask for your help. I figured you were busy enough with all of the exams coming up.”

Hatano shook his head with a lazy grin. “I can do all of this later, so it’s not a big deal. It’s always a pain when you miss a single class and it just happens to be a test review day of all days.”

“It was?”

“Well,” Hatano slid his binder closer to his side and started flipping through his papers to find the notes Jitsui needed, “it was mixed with a new lecture, we just spent the last half of class going over the review afterwards.”

It was difficult to decipher if Jitsui was feeling relieved or even more anxious by the news. It was good that he hadn’t unintentionally bothered Hatano over just a review lesson, but now he knew for certain that there was new material that he had to learn and memorize in such a short amount of time on top of the other information.

Hatano looked at him for a moment before giving him the notes from Wednesday that he had taken down. “It’s not much, just some more compound tenses that the professor added from the week before.”

Jitsui took the papers from him and laid them out on the desk, his own blank sheet on top so he could copy what he needed. Hatano’s handwriting was neat and easy to read, which was nice. Jitsui had a habit of scribbling some of his notes when he was writing too fast, trying to keep up with the pace of the teacher as the lesson went on.

Jitsui noticed that Hatano even took the time to write down the example sentences that the professor usually included to the board as they went through the chapters, but with the added reflexive verbs, Jitsui was finding it difficult to keep up with the material the more he copied.

He hovered over Hatano’s example sentences for a moment longer than he needed to, trying to comprehend what he was reading so he could understand it. It wasn’t the compound tenses themselves, but matching the correct sentence to the compound tense term that was throwing him off.

“When the reflexive pronoun is used as a direct object, the past participle agrees with the reflexive pronoun.”

Jitsui looked over to find Hatano staring, his eyes down at the paper as his head rested in his hand. Following his gaze back to the sentence he was studying, Jitsui finished writing it down on his own paper. “I know. It’s just harder for me now that we have even more verbs and tenses than before. I’m worried that I’m going to get them confused.”

Hatano looked at Jitsui for a moment and dropped his hand. “I can write a couple of easier practice sentences for you and we can build it up from there.”

Jitsui stopped writing. “I appreciate it, but I don’t think—”

“You can’t study notes if you can’t understand them.” Hatano flipped through his binder for a clean sheet of paper to start on, Jitsui eying some of the other notes he had taken from his other classes. High level mathematics and some chemistry class, judging from the equations he saw.

“You really don’t have to, Hatano. Just letting me copy from your notes is enough.” He didn’t want Hatano to set aside his own schedule just to assist him even more than he already was.

“I thought you were desperate for help?” Hatano’s voice was teasing and Jitsui felt exposed after being called out. “Acting polite won’t get you a passing grade on the midterm.”

Jitsui made a move to argue, or at least decline once more, but the look Hatano gave him made his throat dry. Like he was so confident that he was correct, as he was, and knew Jitsui couldn’t fight him on it. Instead, all he did was submit. “Okay.”

“Good.” Hatano began forming new sentences with the material listed, skipping lines to give Jitsui room to answer and ranging the practice notes down the entire length of the paper. “Find what verb the sentence is using, the tense, and then translate it.”

Jitsui took a look at the paper and noticed some familiar words that he had studied previously. He was only in French I and was just getting a grasp on the sentence structure, but it seemed that Hatano was already some kind of expert. Certainly gifted, at the very least.

So, Jitsui went to work. The sooner he could finish his makeshift assignment, the sooner he could get out of Hatano’s hair and relax back in his own dorm before his exams. He did stumble over a few sentences, trying his best to piece them together, but after he had hurdled over the simpler ones, Jitsui barely had any trouble translating the rest and identifying the verbs and verb tenses.

Before he could even get Hatano’s attention, the other student had snatched the paper from him and already began to look his work over. Jitsui studied the way his eyes lingered over his hand-writing, no doubt judging it, as he was proofreading. After about a minute, Hatano nodded, his half-lidded eyes widening enough to show his genuine amazement. “I think you’ll do fine on the exam this week.”

“Well, I still need to finish copying your notes and all.” Jitsui enjoyed the praise even if it was by someone not much older than him, but his skill level was enough to deem him more superior than Jitsui regardless of seniority.

“If you can nail the basics, you can catch up with the rest.” Hatano slid his notes back over to Jitsui so he could resume copying. “If you have any questions, just let me know. I’d rather spend all day here helping than have you leave not knowing a thing before the test.”

“I’d rather that not happen,” Miyoshi had piped up from the other side of the dorm, “because some of us need to study in silence.”

“And some of us need to sleep at six in the morning instead of hearing the blow dryer running in the bathroom for twenty minutes.” Hatano hadn’t even hesitated to shoot back before he pulled his wallet from his pocket and tossed it behind him for Miyoshi to catch. It landed perfectly on the student’s keyboard of his laptop. “And could you get us some snacks from the vending machine?”

Jitsui saw Miyoshi sigh and set his computer down so he could get up, snatching the wallet and taking it with him. “I’m buying myself the most expensive thing on there, just so you know.”

“Don’t forget to buy the chips I like.” Hatano added just before Miyoshi closed the door behind him, the sound of his footsteps muffled now that there was a distance between them. Hatano turned to Jitsui, almost like an afterthought. “I mean, you’re okay with potato chips, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jitsui wasn’t expecting him to ask, but it was nice of him to offer something to eat. “Thank you.”

Hatano shrugged. “I figured you might have wanted something, too.”

Jitsui continued to write, Hatano looking over his own notes as he did so. “I’m not bothering Miyoshi by being here, am I?”

“Nope. He just likes giving people a hard time when he can. Kind of like me.” Hatano grinned. “The secret is to complain right after he’s done complaining so he gets annoyed and stops talking.”

“That’s…” Jitsui couldn’t help but smile at the humor in it, “an interesting relationship you have with him. My roommate and I don’t fight, but we don’t talk much, either.”

Miyoshi walked back in with an armful of snacks a minute later before he threw them all at the back of Hatano’s head, most of them bags of chips while one was an energy bar.

The snacks scattered and landed around the two of them, Jitsui picking up the closest one to his chair and inspecting the chips. Salt and vinegar. Decent.

“Thanks.” Hatano rubbed the back of his head before he caught the wallet that was flung at him in mid-air, avoiding another hit.

“Could you grab the energy bar and give it back?”

Hatano complied and Miyoshi caught it from his bed, tearing the wrapper open and going back to his computer. Despite the supposed hostility between them and the throwing match, they seemed to be back on good terms again. Like the petty argument never even happened. If it was even an argument to begin with.

Jitsui set the bag he picked up on the desk and opened it, plucking a chip from the small pile and being careful not to get any crumbs on the floor as he ate. It must have been convenient to have a room next to a vending machine. Jitsui didn’t want to imagine having to walk across campus just to buy a snack for a study session in his own dorm.

Jitsui let his mind wander back to Hatano as he scribbled more of his notes down. A freshmen student like him had even bothered to help Jitsui out in his time of need, when Jitsui would usually ignore a stranger asking for his assistance. Well, he supposed the majority of his class operated the same way, but Hatano seemed really considerate for such a quiet and cheeky student.

He finished the notes Hatano had offered him and set his pencil down, eating the last chip in the bag. “Thanks for having me over and letting me copy these, I really appreciate it.” Jitsui gathered Hatano’s notes in a pile and handed them over, Hatano tucking them back inside his binder as he paused his textbook reading.

“Not a problem. At least now I know you can return the favor if I ever miss a class.”

The grin Hatano was wearing made Jitsui laugh, finally discovering his true motive. He was more than willing to have Hatano over if he ever needed his help, even if his own papers probably weren’t ever going to be as adequate as his. “You’re welcome to visit my dorm if it comes to that.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer some day.” Hatano stood up from his chair and stepped over the remaining bags of chips that he had never picked up from the floor. He didn’t say anything else as he walked Jitsui to the door.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this,” Jitsui started, pulling his backpack straps over his shoulders, “but how are you so good in French?”

Hatano held the door open and leaned against the frame, Jitsui standing just outside the hall. “I studied abroad in France for a few years and I eventually picked up the language. It’s a lot easier learning it from natives than it is in a classroom.”

“Wow,” Jitsui couldn’t have imagined himself living in a foreign country for so long, “are you fluent?”

“I like to think I am.” Hatano gave another grin. “Maybe I can help you study it again some time? Whenever you’re free, of course.”

Jitsui gave him a smile of his own. “I’d really like that. Thank you, Hatano.”

Hatano nodded and waited until Jitsui was far enough down the hall so he could close the door.

“He’s kind of cute.” Hatano looked at Miyoshi who was still on his bed, no longer studying for his classes but browsing through social media. “He’s the one you’ve been crushing on?”

“Shut up.” Hatano muttered, staring at the door for another few seconds before he tucked his hands into his pockets and went back to his desk.

“You know, you can always come to me for relationship advice.”

“I’ll pass.”

Miyoshi closed his laptop and looked at Hatano from across the room, noticing the faint tinge of red on the tip of his ears. “Maybe speaking French will finally get you laid.”

Miyoshi barely dodged the textbook that was thrown at him.

#joker game #hatano #jitsui #miyoshi #joker game secret valentine 2k17 #jitsuhata #hatajitsu #kind of #college au

7 notes · View notes