#Why do they do my Snotty so dirty so often?

[sarnai4]

Butt of the Joke

Something I enjoy in stories is when you can laugh at and with a character. To me, it keeps them from seeming too "important" or flawless. We all make mistakes and being able to laugh at ourselves is nice. That's why I like when they do this with Dagur, but the method is very different from what's done to Snotlout. Something I will probably always be grateful for is that Dagur is a show character and not a movie character. Those in the movies (the rest of the Riders anyway in my opinion) had their development stunted. I'm convinced that the first movie didn't expect the franchise to get as big as it did and just needed some other people to fill out the cast. Unfortunately, they also didn't expect the shows to be super popular. So, Snotlout in HTTYD 3 is still immature enough to flirt with the widowed mom of one of his best friends when RTTE Snotlout would understand how inappropriate that is. All that's to say that the jokes for Snotlout are often at the expense of his character because he still has to end up at whatever point he's at in the movies.

I believe it's in "Shell-Shocked" that there's a joke about Snotlout suggesting they all leave the Edge and run, leaving it for the Hunters. Okay, yes, I chuckled too because it is funny to have a character be so openly fearful. Yet, this doesn't make sense for him at this point. We're on the season 4 finale of a show that happened 2 seasons after the first series. Snotlout should know by now that leaving the same Hunters who had been willing to kill them and a ship of innocent people with a disease can't be left to their own devices. Why wouldn't he want to stay and fight? Even if it's dangerous, of course the villains are going to keep coming for them. Hiccup rightfully points out that they'll just go on to Berk, but why did he have to say this? Snotlout should have known, but the joke was made without considering how much he'd grown and his own bravery and intelligence.

There seems to be a thing about Snotlout being cowardly, but I really don't think he is. In "Gold Rush," there's a wordless joke where he's just screaming his lungs out after getting captured. Not saying he hasn't shrieked when plummeting to what could be death and that's totally fine, but here? Eh, I don't think so. I feel like there would be enough bad blood between him and the Hunters by now so that he wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how scared he is. It's also horribly futile. He's gone to save Fishlegs, the twins, and Astrid before. He knows the Hunters won't release them and nothing is even happening besides his cage being moved. I'm probably overthinking these moments, but they annoy me since they paint Snotlout as pathetic when we then see him enter a 21 vs 2 fight in "Something Rotten on Berserker Island" fearlessly. Is he a scaredy cat or not? I just want some consistency, then I'd accept whatever fit with the character I'd been shown.

Dagur's saved from this since all his development is in the show. He's not held back by the movies. So, when there's a joke at his expense, it doesn't contradict anything. I'll try to make the examples as similar as possible for comparability. Dagur's got a joke involving saying the wrong thing and it was in "Mi Amore Wing." He's proposing to have Hiccup be his best man. Yes, this is clearly a unique way to ask someone, but it's also not contradicting anything about Dagur. He's got 0 skills with picking up on social cues and responding to things the way other Vikings generally would. It's also very possible that he's never seen anyone be asked to become a best man before, so he's doing what he thinks is a good way to show he's sincere and would really be happy. I don't leave the scene thinking, "Now, why would he say that, though?" Because he's Dagur. That's enough of a reason.

Dagur's got a scared joke too in "Enemy of My Enemy." When he was on Toothless's saddle, he was terrified and the scream made it pretty clear. This made sense because there was something happening at that moment. It wasn't Dagur letting his enemies see his weakness. It was him being on a dragon for the first time, going very quickly, and not knowing what he was doing. He's even thrown off the saddle as soon as Toothless lands in another moment I thought was funny. It doesn't make him look bad, but we can still laugh at his incompetency in this area.

Both of these characters have several physical gags too where one of them gets hurt and I will admit that those always get me to laugh. It's just times like those I've mentioned for Snotty that disappoint me. I really like him too. I think if he were allowed to be a more respectable character, it would be great. Dagur proves the writers know how to do that. We can laugh at him without him doing anything that opposes what they've set up. On the other side of this, Snotlout will act one way, then contradict the very personality we just saw him develop. I can't think of a single time when I couldn't explain one of Dagur's actions through use of his personality. I think that's how it should be. If it's in-character, then it makes sense. If not, then maybe the scene should be worked on a bit longer for this to be fixed.

#HTTYD #RTTE #Dagur #Dagur the Deranged #HTTYD Snotlout #Snotlout Jorgenson #Why do they do my Snotty so dirty so often? #They make it easy for me to love Dagur though #Not like he really needed help #They're both my buddies and I still want them to be friends

[anicekidlikeme]

I wake up next to you, and also our lovely morning mess!

It's been a few weeks now that Drew has been sleeping over in my tiny (tiny) dorm room with me, and while I have no straight explaination for why this has been happening, I can't deny myself the happiness of our little living arrangement for the time being.

We have a pretty solid routine: We both spend our days getting all our work done, and he drives here after work. We both take our end-of-day showers, watch a stupid show on my tiny computer, eat dining hall food, and then fall asleep talking in my twinXL bed. I know in writing none of this sounds very appealing, and if the universe magically were to hand us a nice apartment to live in we would both pounce at the opportunity, but for now, there is nothing I would change about our little love-bubble.

Maybe this is a symptom of the honeymoon phase, but it makes me wonder how life would be if we could keep doing this every day, long after I graduate, long after I have a mid-life crisis, and long after my visa expires. Because of our shared messiness, every night we go to bed amidst a pretty substantial pile of trash. I am looking around now, and I see my makeup everywhere, his shirt on the floor, a whiskey glass full of pistachio shells, a single lonely sock wondering where his friend went, and a whole bunch of tissues from my boyfriend's very very snotty nose. My floors are so dirty, and there are pizza-crumbs everywhere I turn. I wake up to some vague arrangement of this clutter everyday, and God do I love it. I would never admit this out loud in fear that germophobia will quickly be discredited, but looking at last-nights mess every morning reminds me also of all the last nights we've had. It doesn't take too long into knowing Drew to reallize why a girl could be so happy to have so many last-nights with him.

I get accused often of gushing about him too much, and admittedly I am always guilty, the part that scares me so much about this with our recent arrangement, is that I have noticed myself growing fonder of Drew with each day. We often talk in hypotheticals about moving to South Carolina once I graduate. He's visited a few times and has been gushing about how I would love it there ever since we first started dating. In my head, there rests a big beautiful box with a collection of my dreams. This one is the sweetest (maybe in part because it is one we share). I have a few other dreams too, and they've all changed shapes to fit into my life with him. That is something else I have noticed. I've been trying to think more about how life would be if those hypotheticals did one day work out. What if we actually moved, got a shitty apartment, and raised cats instead of breaking up in a year like everybody in their 20's does. We could have so many plants, and a nice big couch. What if he proposed and we got married? Gosh, we've only been dating 6 months. How did I get so ballsy?

You know when you date somebody for so long you convince yourself that this may be the luck of your draw? I have known that feeling for so long, without even really liking any of the people I've been with. After I broke up with Peter, I had a long honest conversation with my friends about why I only date men I don't like: it always felt easier that way. You just get through it, and on occasion share a nice cuddle or two. Dating was just something I did because the idea of attachment and emotional intimacy and all of that shit feels so amazing. It's harder to like somebody, and it is so much harder to love them. You have to really let them get to know you, trust them, share your interests with them, be vulnerable with them, think about them, be with them, and worst of all, have meaningful sex. Although pretending I was in love and having meaningless sex with long term boyfriends was very easy, the real deal sounded like the hardest thing in the world. I realized I had thrown away even the most remote possibility of loving Peter after one specific fight. His friend was rude to me, alarmingly fucking so by the way, and I was mad. Boy did I let him know. I remember all his exact words. He said, "Vaibhavi, although I trust that this is your version of the truth, it's not mine so I dont feel comfortable standing up for you. I think it's fine". I know, what kind of fucking liberal bullshit was that? We dated for two years. I loved his family, I loved his cat, and I loved how spending the summers with them satisfied my craving for a perfect nuclear family. They ate together, had movie nights, and kept each other updated through an adorably full shared-calendar. I think that was reason enough to stay. I would sit and think to myself, I've already gone so deep, backing out now would be crazy. What will his parents think? How will they react? I asked those same questions to Peter the eventful morning of our breakup, and he told me not to worry because the truth was, they did not care. He was awfully good at honesty, and I guess he just couldn't understand why someone he thought existed only in the context of him could matter to other people. That was the part that hurt the most, and then 5 minutes later it was fine. I called Atharva, then I called Fawwaz, then I called Will. I cried and I cried (they were tears of joy, actually). I finally got out. I had finally done it. An hour later, I downloaded Tinder.

It turns out, love is the easiest thing in the fucking world. As much as I was dreading it, I have been flipped into a sappy sucker now. With Drew, I feel like I have so much space. He makes space for me to be 100% Vaibhavi. I am allowed to feel shitty, to cry, to laugh too loudly, to eat whatever I want, to be tired. It's amazing. Sometimes I feel as though when I am with Drew, there is a huge big sky that has newly opened up around my heart. It turns out the emotional intimacy thing is not so hard either. Rather naturally, Drew and I quickly fell into a comfortable pattern of being each other's first people whenever there's a story worth telling, or a bad day worth talking about. Love is very very different from anything I have ever felt before. It exists in abundance, and you just kind of do it. As far as meaningful sex is concerned, that shit is the real deal.

This is not to say my relationship is perfect (although I do believe it is perfect for me, I know better than to make bold claims of objectivity). I would never want to minimize the complicated-messy-dirty-ugly parts of our relationship, because they make us so whole that sometimes it is important to sit with them for just a minute. Once Drew and I broke up. I understand why we did, I understand what caused it, I understand why we are back together, and I understand what we must work on. Despite my new-found maturity about that situation, it did still suck, and I almost never really talk about it (although I will make one or two foul jokes about it to Drew). It's like one of those glass jars on the top shelf that you put there because it's not of that much use to you. As time passes, you never do take it out, probably because of a new, more dire fear that it may break if you don't do it just right. Gotta be careful when dealing with glass. But here I am, taking the jar out.

The night it happened, I was wearing his green sweatshirt (that I can no longer even look at), and some stupid leggings situation. I stayed in those clothes for the three days that we were broken up. Atharva told me it was so important for me to shower, but I was scared that if I took the sweatshirt off, then it would mark some definite end to our relationship. Our lovely warm love. The first thing I did after Drew left that night was call him. And I cried. Then I called my friends, and I cried and I cried. I had never felt such pain in my whole life, and I was so confused by why it was that I cared so much? I have been through endless breakups without a scratch, and for some reason my little tinder fling had my heart shattered like I have never witnessed before. I got no sleep, I couldnt eat. I was just so confused by how a person I had no reason to believe would ever leave my life would leave. I had no reason to believe we would not move to South Carolina, and get two cats, and do all this white people shit that we had planned on. And then it was gone, and I couldn't understand. On Valentines day, Drew had given me a card that I treasure more than anything. I had stuck the card to my wall, and saved the envelope it came in, tucking it neatly under my textbooks.

Without disrupting the secrecy of Drew's feelings, the sparknotes version of the card said I love you way more than I have shown, and we have all the time in the world. One day, when I am king of all the lumber, I will give you that same world. The night we broke up, I took the card off the wall, and read it over and over again. I was thinking about how we actually might not have had all the time in the world. Infact, everything around me had started to feel un-ignorable and worryingly finite. Then I cried some more. I was angry, hurt, and understanding what it means to really care about someone. I wasn't perfect about this break up at all, but he was always there for me. I texted him, a lot. Please lets just forget about all this, I am sorry. I cant bear it any longer. I love you. It hurt just to send it. The whole time in my mind I was begging him to please run into me, please come over, please change his mind, please spontaneously decide to make some grand-gesture and come right back. What about the cats we were going to get? I often wonder how it would go down if I was ever the break-upper. Would he stop me? I am too scared to ask him, but a girl can hope.

Unfortunately, I am not wise enough to admit yet hey, this breakup was actually good for us. It helped us realize we need to communicate, and then all our problems seemed silly. It hurt a very deep attachment of mine, and I think it is actually important to respect that. Turns out you are allowed to be hurt, both of us are. I will say though that shit like this happens. We figured it out, and we found our rhythm, and its okay. It hurt, it sucked, it worked out. Talking about it feels like a huge relief. Kurt Vonnegut is my favorite author, and I like to revisit Slaughterhouse-Five every once in a while. “All moments, past, present and future, always have existed, always will exist.” All this happened, and here I am now, picking up used tissues from my floor. Loving every moment of it. I wish I was able to vocalize my love more. I wish there was a way to say out loud, I am so in love with you, you bring me back to life. But there isn't, not without being entirely embarassing atleast.

Here's what I will say, I actually do not know what is going to happen, but if we occasionally have to find ourselves out of a dirty, gross, complicated, achy feeling mess, I am more than happy to do it with you Drew. It is nice to sometimes float in a pool of my dreams. It is warm and the water feels good on my skin as I think about us being flabby-fourty year olds, or an annoyingly sloppy couple of 20-year-olds who desperately need to get a room. Whatever time we have left, I deeply cherish it. It completes me, it makes me feel like old Vaibhavi. A pre-daniel version I'd say.

It has been six months. I can hope for 6 million more.

[madmars]

Happy to see more people writing for steve, we need more steve fics! 🤧 Steve h x reader where they have an argument and reader ends up breaking a glass by accident and cuts herself, steve gets all worried and after he's apologizing about the argument. Thank you! And it's okay if you don't want to write this request.

Yayyyyy of course!

Warning: cuts, sharp objects, blood

...

Nurse Harrington

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Y/n let out a deep sigh as she sat on her couch, watching her boyfriend pace back and fourth in front of her, as soon as she stepped into her and Steve's shared apartment after being away the whole day without Steve's knowledge, she didn't hear the end of it.

Y/n fiddled with her thumbs as Steve continued his ranting, " I thought you were like taken, or like, eaten even" y/n stared up at him, crossing her arms, " I told you that I had class in the morning Steve" He slightly nodded as he ran his fingers through his hair, " yes, I understand, but you had what three classes, that doesn't take all damn day, y/n"

"Okay Steve, but I've also been mentioning, for the past week, that I had an intense exam coming up, and Professor Daniels is an extreme hard-ass, so I have to take this seriously," Steve stared down at her, waiting for her to continue , with his hands on his hips, " andddd Dylan happened to offer to help study"

Steve raised his eyebrows at the newfound information, y/n would often talk poorly about Dylan, how he's a typical snotty frat douche bag.

"Dylan?" Y/n slowly nodded, Steve rubbed his eyes as he tried to process his girlfriend's whereabouts "Jesus y/n, I thought you couldn't stand to be in the same room as him" y/n pushed herself off the couch, now In Steve's line of sight, "there were five other people Steve, so you can get that thought out of your head-" He cut her off, wildly throwing his hands up, "you could have called! I need you to take some responsibility here"

Y/n stumbled back a bit, the edge of the couch hitting her calves, anger suddenly taking over her "responsibility?! You want to talk about responsibility? Why the hell has your laundry been sitting here for the past two weeks? " she pointed to the basket of clothes that were on the side of the couch that has in fact, been there for two weeks

Steve watched as she picked up dishes on their coffee table from a meal he had earlier that day, she headed to the sink to see an array of plates, she dropped them alongside the other dirty dishes "you can't even do a simple thing such as washing the dishes!" She turned The faucet on and rapidly scrubbed at a knife with " and you ought to tell me how long classes take, when you wouldn't know! You play, house, with six teenagers and suddenly you're responsible?!"

Y/n hadn't noticed how hard she was scrubbing by the Time the sponge flew out of her hand causing the knife to slash down her fingers "damnit!" Steve drew his attention from the floor to his girlfriends dripping hand, his eyes widen as he rushed to get the first aid kit that sat under the sink " Shit babe,"

Steve handed Y/n a rag before her lifted her onto the kitchen counter as she attempted to keep her tears at bay, she watched Steve in silence as he took her hand in his and applied more pressure on the rag causing her to slightly whimper

" I'm uhm- really sorry, I just went real, crazy when you were out later than usual" he turned the sink out and rinsed y/n's cut, she felt the cool water run through her wound " and I should really start pulling my weight around here," he began to add a clear ointment on her hand

"you're definitely, the most responsible person I've ever met," y/n tried to bite back a grin, gazing at Steve's concentrated face " and not to mention, most beautiful" he pressed a quick kiss on her forehead, making her blush and dig her head into his shoulder

"Shut up you sap," y/n giggled, she lifted her head as Steve began to wrap the gash "I'm sorry too, I should have told you that I was going to be out, and that I was forced to work with that douche"

Finally Steve finished securing the cut, y/n held her hand up, admiring his work " hey, maybe you can be a nurse Harrington" Steve playfully rolled his eyes before placing a sweet lingering kiss on her lips

Steve pulled away, much to the girls dismay, and narrowed his eyes at her " you love those kids" y/n nudged his side and laughed

"Yup I love those kids

...

✩

-m

This is okayyy idk if I like it that much

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve x reader #Steve Harrington #stranger things #answered✩

[wolf-queer-discourse]

Adventures in Aphobia #1

So I was scrolling through Tumblr the other day (a regrettable mistake as always), and I had the great pleasure of seeing this joyous post.

*deep breath*

Not gonna lie, posts like this make me real pissed. Pissed because the person who posted this exists in a space where they feel comfortable enough to post this online. Pissed because these posts are so common and often face little backlash. And pissed because there’s nothing better than allosexuals condescendingly explaining to asexual people why they’re dirty attention whores who invent their own oppression. Ace people deserve to be defended against this horseshit. Young people see these posts, and it’s extremely damaging to have your identity be nothing more than fuel for people in discourse to mock you and demand you bled in order for them to notice your pain.

Anger aside, many people do not see why this post is wrong, so why is it? Let’s unpack this clusterfuck of bigotry:

“would love to see substantive evidence of systematic “aphobia” that isn’t actually just misogyny, toxic masculinity, or rpe culture.”

God damn, we are not mincing our words here XD. A few things: systematic in bold, which tells you if you do not make a blood sacrifice on the altar of queer pain you will not be taken seriously. Potential nitpick, but systemic and systematic are not the same thing. I believe systemic is the word they’re looking for. Systematic implies a lot more intentionality that can be hard to prove. Systemic merely means that systems, in their current state, do aphobic things, which they absolutely do.

“Aphobia” in quotes is absolutely rich. Not only will this person refuse to acknowledge systemic aphobia, which is only one type, but this poster casts clear doubt upon the mere concept of aphobia in and of itself. We love to see it.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The statement, as clearly condescending as intended, is sort of correct, though it doesn’t mean a whole lot. Systemic oppression is about the systems in a society (government, healthcare, etc) discriminating against people. Systemic oppression is not bigotry faced on a person-to-person level. In short, systematic oppression is something a person experiences in their overall life, while personal discrimination is experienced on a personal level by people who are not singularly in control of the systems. This post boils down the negative comments ace people face into being called “weird”, which is an understatement for sure, but calling a gay person weird isn’t systemic oppression either.

It’s still bad and discriminatory.

This is such a snotty way to dismiss aphobia as some mere, insignificant comment with no meaning as if it doesn’t reinforce society’s painful aphobic views in the same way casual homophobic comments reinforce heteronormativity and society’s hostility toward gay people.

Ace people face discrimination in healthcare, most notably, which is systemic discrimination, but the systemic discrimination of asexuals really ought to be its own post if I’m to nosedive into it. Even if ace people faced no systemic discrimination, it wouldn’t make this point anymore correct. Discrimination is a perfectly valid reason to feel disregarded by society, and often only ace people are denied the right to feel this way and are instead gaslit into admitting what they face is no big deal and they’re just making it up for attention.

The experience of being pressured to have sex when you’re allo vs ace is very different. The vast majority of allo people do not plan to be celibate their whole lives. Many ace people do not want to have sex, ever. “Waiting for sex” in much of western society and in Christianity is seen as pure and honorable. Yet being asexual and never wanting sex is seen as a deviant disorder and people are accused of robbing their partner of sex forever.

There’s really a specific flavor of sexual pressure that is unique to ace people. Sex being to “fix” someone or because they “just need to try it”.

In this respect, aphobic sexual pressure is better compared to that faced by gay people and lesbians. Lesbians especially often can face this same struggle, men pressuring them to have sex because they think lesbians just need to “try it” or to “fix them”. I can imagine this poster would have no issue acknowledging lesbophobia being the root of lesbians coerced into sex with men, yet she does not give ace people the same.

Imagine if someone said (and knowing our fucked world, someone probably has): “Lesbophobia doesn’t exist. It’s just misogyny. Straight women are coerced into sex too!”

It’d be pathetic bullshit. Toxic masculinity, misogyny and many other issues can all tangle into combined messes with other forms of bigotry. Lesbophobia is an experience that deserves to be recognized apart from misogyny, even if the two are linked. Please stop erasing ace people’s experiences with this when it’s not the same thing.

Honestly, though, this post, as trashy as it is, if anything, is perhaps, really asking: Is there any type of aphobic experience that’s inherently exclusive to ace people?

I still wager to go say, yes, yes there is, but I must make an important point first:

Most experiences of queer discrimination are not limited to queer people.

Homophobia and transphobia are both experienced by cishets in certain instances. Feminine straight men can be victims of homophobic harassment. This does not disprove the fact that it’s homophobia just because a straight man is the victim of it. A tall cis woman with broad shoulders and a lower voice may be the victim of transphobic remarks or comments. The basis of these comments is rooted in transphobia, however, so the fact that the victim is cis does not erase the transphobia.

People who argue that experiences ace people complain about can be experienced by allosexuals are not poking a legitimate hole in doing this. Certain experiences related to aphobia can and are experienced by allosexuals. If you do not acknowledge this, then homophobia and transphobia aren’t real because cishet people have sometimes experienced them.

Despite cishets sometimes experiencing queerphobia, most of us acknowledge that their experience of that bigotry, however unfortunate, is not the same as that experienced by actual queer people. It’d be quite homophobic for a feminine straight man to claim he knew just as much about the gay experience as an actual gay man. Similarly, when allosexual people relate experiences that were rooted in aphobia, it’s overstepping a line when they claim asexual discrimination isn’t real because they experienced elements of it too.

Cishet (cishet including allosexuals) people do not experience their doctors telling them their sexuality might be a disorder or caused by trauma. Allo queer people can experience this with their sexualities too.

“using sex appeal to sell products is misogyny, it is not engineered to gross sex-repulsed people, it is meant to objectify women.”

This is a strawman thinner than my last nerve. Uh, what? What ace people are you seeing that literally think sex appeal was engineered to gross-out sex-repulsed people?? I don’t think this is a core argument??

Yes, sex-repulsed ace people sometimes complain about sex appeal in media being uncomfortable. But that’s it. Every time an ace person shares a discomfort of theirs doesn’t mean it’s the entire basis of their oppression. For the love of God, let ace people discuss their experiences without being blow-torched over not being oppressed enough with an individual discomfort. 

BONUS ROUND

(This was in the tags)

“Completely vilifies celibate individuals” 

...no…? What…? Huh…? 

The most charitable interpretation of this vague accusation is that the poster means celibate people face aphobia as well, due to not wanting to have sex. I have no idea how this “vilifies” anyone, but that aside, as said before: people who are not queer can face aphobia. Also worth noting that society treats celibate people way better than ace people, which is really another example of aphobia. Celibate people can be told they’re missing out (which could be at very least related to aphobic ideals), but they’re rarely called broken. Celibacy is seen more as a respected, controlled ideal in allo people, but when ace people want to do it, they’re just mentally ill.

Anyway, the post was aphobic trash, and it needs to be debunked more often. Mocking ace people online is not a good look anymore, guys. Don't be ugly.

#discourse #queer discourse #LGBT discourse #Adventures in Aphobia #ace discourse #asexual discourse #aphobia #ace discrimination #asexual #asexuality #LGBT #queer #ace #rant #aphobes have no shame but they should #imagine having a brain smoother than a banana peel

[ciggylungz]

Mark My Territory

Blurb night: 3.2k

(Request:harry and y/n having yatch sex and blurry pap pics get out ***) + (request: Jealous possessive Harry angsty/angry smut !!! Plsss hehe thank you ❤️)

Warnings: face spitting, painal, dominant Harry, pain kink, humiliation kink, degrading talk, mentions of other fetishes and lots of hardcore brutal smut with an appetizer of angst

-

Harry has always been depicted as a ‘womanizer’ , a lady killer and all other words for it, yet the people who actually have dated him know truly he’s a romantic. He isn’t a man who only flirts to get his cock sucked then leaves, he’s not a serial cheater or big ladies man. He’s truly a deeply caring, loving man and Y/n was lucky enough to be his and experience that. Yet she couldn’t deny, if Harry had one flaw within relationships it was his undeniable jealousy that could worm it’s way into his mind when he felt someone was getting a little too friendly with his girl. The man was protective and admittedly a bit possessive of his girlfriends, and while it could be appropriate at times it also could be a argument starter at other, however to y/n- angry, possessive Harry was more sexy than scary. Sometimes she may or may not bite back when he tells her who she belongs to, who’s boss and maybe, just maybe she does it to see him get riled up and take the extra step to show her that she belongs to him.

--

Right now Y/n has found herself in possessive Harry’s fit, they were on a little get away vacation and currently on a Yacht sailing on Jamaican waters. It was beautiful and peaceful, yet tempers rose when Harry thought the man who delivered the booze for the bar was getting a bit too cheeky with his girl.

Y/n though didn’t really notice his behavior as flirty, so it wasn’t like she was reciprocating it in the slightest but she may or may not be pushing a few of Harry’s buttons to see him get all bossy and protective over her. usually that ends with good rough sex, sloppy, dirty and so fucking hot.

“Harry! It’s not a big fucking deal why are you so mad?! He’s not even here anymore! I didn’t pay attention it’s not like when he tried to get cheeky I whipped my tits out for him. God you’re being annoying.” She was putting her sassy bratty act on, one she knew often didn’t end well for her- or rather her windpipe and cervix- both of which typically end up bruised and sore from his hand wrapped around her throat and his cock purposely smashing into it just because he knows how bad it can hurt- and bad girls need to be punished. Sometimes punishment hurts.

“Don’t talk back to me Y/n. The dude was practically eye fucking you, and you didn’t stop it! And showing him your tits? Really? You mentioning exposing yourself, why? Were you thinkin’ about doing it? That top barely cover’s yeh so how do I know you weren’t tryin’ to sneak him an eye full when my back was turned?”  his tone was daring, deep and serious. He wasn’t playing around, he was like a dog protecting his territory. When he saw Y/n roll her eyes he marched towards her, his body towered over hers and his glare was threatening. The girl stood her ground though, wanting to see just how far she could push it.

“Oh shut up! You act like I dropped to my knees for that guy! Harry do you hear yourself? The man was like 70! If laying his eyes on a pretty young woman made his day, then I don’t care. It’s not like I was handing the geezer Viagra so he could get it up for me when you were in another room. Shut the fuck up already, I want to enjoy myself.”

She flipped him off before hopping into the pool, letting her entire body submerge to try and cool off her frustrated body. She didn’t have the patience for his tough guy act right now, he was being ridiculous.

When she made it back to the surface of the water she swam towards the railing on the side of the pool, leaning her body against the glass while she floated in the water, her peaceful swim was soon interrupted by a body forcing hers to turn around. Harry was standing in the pool, chest to chest with his girlfriend and he was not fucking happy with her. His eyebrows raised while he pinched her chin between his fore finger and thumb forcing her to look back at him.

“You think that little attitude you pulled back there was cute? Let me give yeh a little refresher since you seem to have forgotten important information.”

She then felt his free hand grope her left breast, roughly so the pain forced her to notice the area and pay attention to the body part-

“These tits, belong to me. No one else should be able to get a good view at them, it seems you’ve forgotten that. And this-“ the man brought his hand up to cradle the back of her head, tugging her hair harshly before continuing “- head, should only be thinking about my fucking cock. The thought of another guys prick, no matter if they’re an old creep like him, should never be inside that pretty little head of yours. You use that pretty brain to think about me. That pretty face is for me to look at, kiss, fuck and use as my cum rag. Or have you forgotten that as well?” when she only answered with big doe eyes getting into her submissive state under his spell of filth he took an opportunity to yank her locks yet again and raise an eyebrow. “You gonna answer me, or are you going to keep lookin’ at me like a brain dead whore that only I can make you?”  

A muted whimpered moan came from her mouth before she spoke, “Belong to you, I’m yours Harry.” Her throat suddenly felt a bit dry, words coming out a tad bit sandy which the man noticed. “Wha’s the matter? Throat gone dry? Yea?-“ Y/n nodded never letting their gazes part “-here, let me help.” He used the fingers latched on her chin to force her mouth open, collecting his saliva before spitting it directly into her mouth with a filthy aggressive ‘spat’ noise. He kept his gaze on his spit as he watched it slide down her throat seeing the muscles constrict when she swallowed it fully, a desperate whine coming out of her next.

“Still thirsty, love? Throat still dry? Open-“ she complied immediately, sticking her tongue out and letting him project another collection of spit into her mouth before deciding to get filthy with her, dribbling little bits of spit on her still out tongue seeing some drip onto her chin which gave him another prompting to really make her feel dirty like her behavior was asking for, he pulled back closing her mouth for her and spat directly onto her face.

Y/n gasped a bit, of course her and Harry had done every dirty thing you can imagine. Vanilla was not in their vocabulary when it came to sex, they’d done everything from voyeurism and taboo roleplays to experimenting with knives and pee play, so this wasn’t the first time he’s spit on her face, she just wasn’t expecting it that time. Harry had watched as it started to roll from her nose and drip, her tongue darting back out of her mouth to collect the falling spit swallowing it greedily.

“I think you’re starting to remember how things work aren’t ya? You’re my little girl, you even drink from me don’t yeh? Let’s do some more refreshing, this right here-“ Harry’s large palm migrated to cup her bikini covered cunt giving it a harsh squeeze making sure to pinch her lips between his fingers for a little bit of pain added to the grip. “-this darling little cock sleeve, also is mine. I own your pussy, sweetheart. Now let’s hear you say it, go on use that little brain for m’”

Y/n was practically a puddle of mush at this point. She loved being roughed up, degraded and treated rather harshly during sex. She loved when he’d participate in that kink of hers since Harry himself thinks very highly of women, so he’s not often giving her the full ‘you’re a stupid fuck doll’ treatment. This was a treat for her, getting him so riled up he was being extra rough even verbally.

“I belong to Harry, my body is yours.” A needy whimper followed her words, hands holding onto his flexed biceps just needing to feel her man, his dominance amplifying her needy nature and submissive tendencies. The man cooed at her, giving her a little smile. “Good girl, now what else do yeh need to say to m’? hmm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad, I love you Hazzy” her lips puckered for a kiss, getting a few simple pecks from him as a reward yet she wanted more. Harry knew that fact, but he wasn’t going to cave that easily. She needed to really understand he wasn’t fucking around this time and those snotty comments about flashing herself and mentioned the old guys prick wouldn’t fly, not at all.

“I love you too, darling. I accept your apology, but you’re not off the hook yet. You were very naughty, you know better than to even mention another man getting to see what belongs to me. I don’t want to hear anything like the mess you said earlier, ever come from your mouth again. Understood?” Y/n quickly agreed, nodding her head with a ‘yes sir’ wondering where things would go from here.

“Good, now that we’re on the same page I think it’s time to move onto the consequences you’ll be facing for your behavior. Turn around.”

The girl did what she was told, the sun now starting to set as she pressed her front into the side of the pool both of their bodies still submerged in the water. She was wondering what was to come, the thrill of being outdoors already surging through her and the anticipation of whats next was killing her.

“You were awfully rude to me, petal. Not happy with yeh, so I think you’re going to get your ass fucked.”

Y/n felt her eyes go wide, she’d talked to Harry before about acceptable punishments and what she wants to receive depending on what she did. during that conversation she’d mentioned anal, but that was reserved for if she was really bad. So she knew she must have really fucking pissed him off. The girl chose anal as a severe punishment because she couldn’t come from it, and it was always painful for her but since she had a major pain kink she put it on the table of options after trying it with an ex and discovering how the sensation was a punishing one for her body.

Her head turned to look behind her, Harry flicking his eyes from the top of her spine down to where the water distorted the image of her bum. “You made me very upset, love. Hurt m’ feelings, acted like a bitch. I deserve to get off, you don’t. Goin’ ta’ use that tight little hole to teach you a lesson, and as my own personal masturbation tool for the evening. If you’re a good girl and don’t complain, I might make you feel good in the morning.”

The objectification while very much offensive in a normal setting, was unbelievably hot in this sexual one. She knew that cruel of dirty talk wasn’t for everyone, but she loved it. She loved being treated like an object after she’d been bad. She enjoyed it when Harry would use her mouth like a masturbation toy while he watched porn, not even acknowledging her when she’d been a bad girl at other times. She loved when he’d humiliate her by having her hump her pillow in front of him, somehow able to control his body enough to stay soft while he watched her so the only thing she saw was his flaccid cock making her feel like a dirty girl who couldn’t get him up. It was all consensual and had been talked about. Of course she loved soft Harry too, the delicate slow way he’d lick her cunt, the loving thrusts and making love for hours on end. She loved every version of Harry in the bedroom, but right now she was getting dominant Harry and while she knew she was about to feel like she was being split in two by his cock ramming inside her ass, she was still going to love every surge of pain going through her lower half while he moaned filthy things into her ear. The fact she could get him to cum without herself getting pleasure was a strangely erotic thing for her.

Harry’s hands brought her back from her train of thought, his fingers making quick work of her bottoms letting them untie and float off somewhere in the pool whilst he turned his attention back to her body. His large palms groped at her ass, nails digging into the plump flesh as he pulled her cheeks apart every few gropes letting the cold pool water touch the opening, the sensation making her flinch slightly at first before she started getting used to the ripples of water touching a taboo place on her body.

She felt his chest press into her bare back, face tucking into her neck as he used his teeth to tug the ties of her bikini top undone, the fabric giving way to leave her completely bare in the water. She hopes to god there isn’t a group full of paps with night vision cameras up in trees or fucking hang gliding around the boat because she doesn’t think her mom would appreciate seeing her daughter in the tabloids getting railed by her boyfriend.

His damp hair tickled the bare skin of her shoulder, his lips resting on the shell of her ear while he spoke. “Don’t you dare scream, you know the safe word if yeh need to use it. Got it? No screaming, and don’t start the tears either. Be a big girl, not gonna go easy on ya’ this time princess.”

When she felt his tip start to push against her puckered hole she did everything she could to try and keep her body relaxed so it wouldn’t be nearly as much of a struggle. One of his arms wrapped around her waist to keep her still while his other hand was gripping the tip of his cock using his knuckles to keep her ass pried open a bit to put himself inside the impossibly tight hole just begging to be torn to shreds.

Her jaw clenched with her fists as he managed to ease the tip of his cock through her puckered star, her anal muscles clamping down almost painfully tight on his cock while he gripped her hips and shoved her back on him burying himself so far inside the girl he swears his tip was banging into another organ inside the girls belly. A deep groan ripped its way through Harry’s throat, the sensation was overwhelming and the power he held in his dominant role made every fiber of his being feel like it had been ignited.

He swears he could feel the blood running through his veins, hear his eyes blinking and was hyper aware of every limb and appendage he had, his cock being the part of himself that was screaming with stimulation as he massaged himself with the inner muscles of his girl. Y/n wanted to feel ashamed at how she was getting off on the pain, not feeling anywhere close to cumming or real sexual stimulation that was pleasurable, but a mental erotic feeling. The knowledge that Harry was using her body to get off, and punish her at the same time made her mentally so turned on she knew she was adding the natural slick pouring from her peach into the water, she hopes chlorine can mask the scent of pussy juice and semen or else she’ll feel a bit sorry for the pool boy who might be fishing out the spillage of Harry’s cum into the water the next morning.

“Jesus H Christ baby, your little ass is so fuckin’ tight feel like yeh might rip my cock off…fuckin’ hell I’m close. Gonna bust so deep inside you ,you’ll be seeing parts of me coming out of you for days. My slutty little girl likes to be stuffed full of my cum doesn’t she?” Y/n moaned simply at his words alone, responding with a pitiful ‘yes sir, I love you’ to his accusation. “Aw, I know you do. Like when I use yeh like a cum rag, like to feel m’ spunk leakin out of yeh. You’re such a disgusting little girl, aren’t yeh?”

Y/n let out a pained grunt mixed with a titillated moan, nodding furiously at her boyfriends words.

“Yes! Yes I’m a nasty girl, only for you. Fuck Harry, I’m yours.” She sounded pathetic, utterly pitiful and dirty. And they both fucking loved it. Harry could feel himself nearing completion, his stamina becoming weaker and his body begging to spurt his seed into the girl and with a few more harsh thrusts leaving a lingering burn to her bottom he filled her bowel with hot, sticky ribbons of his cum.

Every bit of semen held inside his contracting balls was being unloaded into her beautiful quivering body, her nipples hard as rocks between his toying fingers and her stomach slightly distended with the pressure of his prick inside her. The sight was filthy, almost offensively so. Something you see only on the dirtiest if porn sites, ones only the most depraved kinky bastards go to, Y/n was his own little hardcore porn star in this pool and he’d never felt more primally turned on in his life.

He slowly removed himself from her, certain that without the barrier of water the exit would have made a delicious ‘pop’ when the tip of his meat finally retreated from the hole. Y/n was now catching her breath, legs shaking under the water from the forced stretch of her lower muscles her body trying to regain it’s composure as her boyfriend pulled his swim trunks back over his genitals and turned her to face him pressing her naked body into his.

“Think I can trust yeh not to be so bad anymore?” His voice was no longer as gruff, he was slowly turning back into his normal self. Y/n gave him a tired nod, kissing his butterfly and hugging him tight.

“Well lets hope for your sake I can, but for my sake I wouldn’t mind getting to abuse your ass again if yeh chose to misbehave like that again.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #blurb night #harry styles writing #harry styles dom #dom!harry #rough!harry

[yourdeepestfathoms]

we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now)

another fic, for y'all! more angst and mama Alci!

TW: Rape

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

The man-thing beneath her was shuddering in pain, trying to scramble backward with only one arm, as the other was busy pressing against the gash in his side, trying to stem the heavy bleeding. His expression was a mix between revulsion and terror. As deep as it was, he would live. Maybe.

But he wouldn’t get that chance.

He didn’t beg or scream when his heart was ripped out, which irked his attacker, but it didn’t matter. The creature standing above him was satisfied, having obtained what she had come for. He was lucky she wasn’t either one of her sisters, who would have prolonged his death a lot longer than she had, milking out every last drop of suffering they could before his life force finally faded away into nothingness. She had better things to do than play cat and mouse with some incompetent human. Like returning the heart to her mother.

Bela’s chest warmed with pride as she gazed down at the dripping muscular organ cupped in her hands. It wasn’t often that Mother got to eat the heart of a man, and when she did, it was usually in the context of a raid on the castle, sort of dulling the effect of getting to consume such a treat. But now no damage would be made because Bela had managed to retrieve one all by herself! And Mother would be able to indulge in the warmth and sweet blood and would be so proud of her!

She swelled with delight as she began creeping away from the body, holding the heart delicately. Her sisters never understood why she was always reaching for Mother’s praise, but she couldn’t understand why they didn’t. Didn’t they want to please her? Make her happy? Get all of her praise and love and affection?

Bela’s thoughts were then rudely interrupted by something sharp snapping down around her ankle and yanking her to the ground. She let out a cry of pain, unable to bite it back in the face of so much discomfort. She shifted over and shakily reached out to see what had caught her.

A bear trap. Clamped around her left leg, just above the ankle. Her right hand gripped the limb tightly, slightly over where the metallic teeth bared into her flesh. One sporadic tremor was all it took to send new currents of torture up her leg. And, once again, there was no stifling her tormented scream from ripping out of her throat. Now both hands were clutching at the appendage, trying desperately to lessen the pain. It did little to help.

“Shit,” Bela hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

She attempted to pry the jaws of the artificial beast from her leg again, but her arms were shaking too much and the torment that seized her body prevented her from using all her strength; all of it was quickly being stolen away within her. Before she could get the teeth more than an inch away, the slickness of the blood caused it to slip from her grasp and bite right back to where it was originally. Just like that, she was back at square one.

Bela took several shuddering breaths and looked up at the sky. Now she knew why Mother didn’t like her and her sisters hunting alone. There was no one there to help her when she got into situations like this.

What had she been thinking? She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the level-headed, calm one that didn’t do stupid things! She let her own need for praise blind her and now she was trapped.

There was snapping from within the dark woods around her. Bela’s head whipped up. Footsteps were approaching her- multiple footsteps. She bristled and made herself look as fierce as possible, despite the pain she was in.

A group of human men, around ten, if she counted correctly, broke through the brambles, armed with guns and axes and pitchforks, and stared down at her. A handful of them looked terrified at the sight of her, while the others smirked. Something sadistic was flashing in their eyes. They looked…hungry.

Bela tried to shake herself free from the bear trap when they approached her, but the iron teeth didn’t relent its vicious bite. They swarmed her, grabbing her limbs and holding her down. At first, she thought it was to take aim to kill her precisely, but then she noticed the very distinct bulges in their trousers and felt her chest seize in horror.

“Stop!” she yelled, finding her voice, which was wavering and shaky. “Let me go, you bastards!”

The men merely laughed at her threat. They seemed less scared of her when they had her ensnared as they did.

The leader of the pack, a scruffy man-thing with dark amber eyes, began to make a mess of her chest. His friends were pinning her wrists above her head, leaving her helpless to his assault. Slimy trails of saliva were left across her breasts; she cringed.

“Stop!”

When hands began to quest beneath her dress, she spasmed, fighting with all her strength. She managed to get an arm free and slashed her claws at one of the men beside her, ripping open dark red furrows along his skin.

“You bitch!” he shrieked, grasping at the gashes across his forearm. Blood seeped through his brown tunic. He looked fearfully at his friends. “What do I do?”

“Clean it,” one of them said.

“Will that be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

The man Bela had wounded shifted, looking anxious. “What if I turn into one of them?”

“That’s not how that works, dumbass,” piped up another man.

While they were distracted by each other, Bela squirmed harder. She tried to summon her insects, but her head was smashed against what she thought was a jagged rock; she swore she could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking upon impact. She slumped to the dirt, groaning. Her vision cut out for a moment, and when it returned, she thought she was being surrounded by rabid wolves.

“Creature, look at me while I touch you. That’s just common decency, don’t you think?“

Bela shut her eyes and refused to open them back up. She didn’t want to look. The man straddling her pulled her hair.

“Don’t be rude.”

She could feel more tears coming- how long had she been crying? She shook her head, jerking her limbs, but they were snagged tightly.

“N-No--”

The man-beasts around her cackled.

“Would you look at that,” one of them said. “The monster is cowering.”

“Not much of a terror now is she?” said another, tittering.

“She isn’t so strong once you have her caught,” added a third.

“God, she’s hot. Can we just start already? I want my turn.” a fourth joined in.

Bela whimpered. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was terrified. Her voice was cracking and she sounded snotty. She wanted this to stop right now. She tried to ease away, but they were firmly holding her in place. She kept muttering “no” over and over again, trying to drown out their voices.

The scruffy man leaned over her more, restraining her with his body weight.

“I said,” white-hot pain seared through Bela’s groin, causing her to howl, “look at me while I touch you, creature.”

She was dry, and the friction between her legs burned so intensely that it made her see stars. Within moments of only a few thrusts, she already felt raw. The stinging only increased.

All at once, she felt everything: the pain in between her legs, the dirty fingernails raking down her sides, the hands that raised up to fondle her breasts, the teeth on her neck, the tongue in her mouth, the bear trap around her ankle, the blazing heat that bloomed within her stomach… Then, she felt nothing at all.

--- --- ---

Bela lost track of time rather easily. It all started to blur together, but all she knew was that they tortured her in the woods for hours. Their lust was never-ending, their hunger was insatiable. She felt cowed by their heat, unable to fight back, falling victim to their needy claws.

She wondered why they didn’t kill her. She wished they did. She wanted the pain to go away.

Now, she lay on the damp dirt, naked, barely awake, and struggling to breathe. Her bare stomach was splattered with semen and marred by scratches. Her head was pounding intensely. Her throat felt red and raw. Her eyes were stinging and still leaking tears.

Had anyone noticed she was gone? Was Mother or her sisters worried about her? Were they looking for her?

Did they care?

Bela pushed herself up slowly; the pain was unbearable. It was a constant, aching thing in her stomach that never seemed to relent its throbbing assault. Hot coals were shoveled into each part of her body when she tried to move again, stoking the raging fires burning inside of her. Her muscles crackled painfully from the strain of getting up but were quickly overcome by a brighter, even sharp sensation in her left leg.

Right. She was still caught in the bear trap.

If this situation couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Bela struggled with the iron jaws for several eternal moments, sobbing harder each time her attempts failed. She eventually managed to pry the teeth loose and yank her ankle free, falling backward into the dirt and leaves and sending little lightning bolts alight throughout her entire body. She wept.

Eventually, awareness returned to her and she realized she had to get home. She had to get out of this forest. She had to get away.

She cleaned off her belly and legs and tried to do the same for her vagina, but it seized up the moment her hands got near, so she left it be. She put on her dress, which was in tatters and reeked of sex, but it was better than wearing nothing at all. The blood congealing between her thighs squelched uncomfortably when she began walking back to the castle, limping heavily on her injured ankle as she went. It bubbled and smeared and stuck on her skin, sometimes running down the length of her legs, but she couldn’t bother to wipe it away. She just wanted her mother.

It took a lot longer than it should have to get back to the castle, and when she did finally make it, she couldn’t go any further. Her knees buckled and the ground rushed up to meet her. She curled up into a fetal position, shaking all over, weeping again. She didn’t know how her body managed to still produce tears after crying so much, but there was wetness in her eyes and running down her cheeks. She trembled.

“Mother…”

Her voice came out weak and brittle. Frail.

“Mother…”

Maybe if she hadn’t been in so much agony, she would have cared more about being seen in such a state. But she didn’t care about anything. Not anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her mother’s arms and never leave.

“Mother…”

The tears were coming down faster. Would anyone come for her? Did her mother care? Or was she to be left like this? She knew she probably looked like a sorry excuse for a beast, a waste of an experiment, better to be killed off so nobody would have to suffer her insolence, but she didn’t think Mother would be the one to turn her back on her. She whimpered.

“Mama!”

She should have known. She had it coming, didn’t she? Despite being the oldest, she was always the last in everything when it came to being a bloodthirsty beast. Didn’t hunt very well because she felt bad for the animals, was willing to submit to her younger sisters because she didn’t always know how to command situations, preferred to spend her time reading instead of participating in bloodsports, tried to avoid conflict because she didn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty, couldn’t even defend herself from human men…

It all made so much sense now.

She didn’t deserve to see Mother.

Footsteps were coming from one of the hallways. Someone was emerging into the light of the foyer. Bela, with her eyes bleary and mind hazed, couldn’t help but think it was one of the men returning for a second round. She tried to crawl away, whimpering.

Hands seized her and she screamed.

“No! NO!”

But it was too late. Too late.

--- --- ---

Alcina was first alerted by the smell before she even heard the mewls. The rank, disgusting stench of man semen entered her castle, so strong she was able to catch it from down in the basement, where every scent was usually overpowered by blood. But the pungent odor of filthy sperm managed to reach her like a wriggling maggot, and she instantly thought one of the maids had grown some courage and snuck a consort into her palace. She didn’t even think to consider what it actually had been because she never thought that such a thing would happen to one of her girls. It wasn’t something any mother should have to fear happening to their daughters.

Mounting the staircase, Alcina couldn’t help but chuckle at the foolishness of her maids. Did they truly think they could get something like this past her? Did they think they were being sneaky? She could smell their lust from a mile away.

However, as she exited out into the hallway, something new tickled her nose. The scent of semen was now mingled with blood and sweat and the faint smell of dirt. But there was something else, too. A noise. A word.

“Mother…”

Alcina perked up. Despite the faintness, she could easily pick out the voice of her eldest daughter.

“Bela?” she called back to her child.

For a moment, there was no response. At first, that wasn’t very concerning; Bela had always been the quiet type, always taking the time to consider her words instead of blurting the first thing that came to her mind like her younger sisters did. But with the intrusive smell wafting down the halls and the hoarseness she spoke with, Alcina couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong.

“Mother…”

“Bela,” Alcina said. She searched for buzzing beetles or flies, but couldn’t hear or see any. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had even seen her eldest daughter.

That, too, wasn’t very concerning, either. Bela had a tendency to tuck herself away in various rooms for hours, indulging herself in books and studies, always fascinated to know more about absolutely everything. Sometimes, it was the library. Other times, one of the parlors. But sometimes it could be a random maid closet that nobody would ever think to sit and read in or a hidden room behind one of the many tapestries that made searching for her an elaborate scavenger hunt of trying to remember which weaving had already been checked or a specific corner in a specific room that nobody really went into anymore because there was nothing important inside. Alcina vividly remembered the time she nearly tore the castle apart searching for her eldest child because she couldn’t find her anywhere and she wasn’t answering her when she called. It turned out that Bela, younger at the time, was in a small back room Alcina had completely forgotten existed, playing midwife with a laboring opossum and trying to feed the mother her beetles. Bela had turned to her, bright-eyed, and said, “Possum.” She then proceeded to give her an elaborate, in-depth explanation on the process of birth, radiating pride the entire time, completely oblivious to Alcina’s panic.

It then became a rule to never kill opossums for Bela’s sake. And they were, admittedly, a little cute.

However, like with the hoarseness Bela spoke in, something was off. Very off.

The blood mingling with the scent of sperm- that was her daughter’s blood.

“Mother…”

Alcina sprung into motion.

“Bela!” she called. She kept the panic from oozing into her voice, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but her hurried stride was enough to convey her alarm. “Where are you, my sweet? Come to Mother.”

She stopped to listen for the buzzing of insect wings or even just footsteps on polished tile, but there were neither. There was, however, a very distinct cry that made her veins fill with black ice.

“Mama!”

Alcina charged down the hallway, adrenaline pumping madly through her entire body. A pair of quietly conversing maids saw her coming and jumped out of the way, pressing close to the walls. They should thank their lucky stars for their quick reflexes because she would have flayed them if they had gotten in her way.

“Bela!” She was shouting, now. “Where are you? Bela!”

She didn’t stop to listen this time, but she did strain her ears. There were no noises in response, not even an utter. She picked up her pace.

Alcina broke out into the grand foyer and three things slammed into her at once: first, the overwhelming stench of semen that was so thick and heavy she could almost taste it when she breathed through her mouth; second, the chill seeping in through the half-open front door; and third, the crumpled form of her eldest daughter curled up on the floor, shaking all over.

“Bela!”

Alcina rushed over to Bela’s side, noticing the way she tried to crawl away with bruised limbs. However, it wasn’t until she set her hands on her child’s shoulder that Bela let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“No! NO!”

Alcina snapped her hands away as though she had touched fire. Words could not begin to explain how awful it was to be a mother and be stared at with so much horror by her baby. Bela looked downright terrified of her--and then she noticed a sort of glaze in her eyes, as though she were peering out from a dirty window. She didn’t seem to be seeing Alcina as her mother, but as someone or something that struck great fear inside of her.

“Bela,” Alcina spoke softly. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

Bela shook her head and tried to shield her face with her arms, all while weeping, “No more, no more…”

Anger sparked deep within Alcina. Who could have possibly scarred her baby so badly that she didn’t even recognize her own mother?

Taming her rage so she wouldn’t scare Bela, Alcina reached out and lightly brushed Bela’s shoulder again, making her flinch and whimper sharply. The black dress she was wearing was in tatters, barely clinging to her frame, and the skin that laid underneath was grimy and scraped. It looked like she had gotten into a fight with a wolf and lost, but Alcina could tell this was much, much worse than anything a mangy hound could do.

“Bela,” Alcina said again. “My darling. It’s only me. Your mother. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

Bela peeked out of her arms reluctantly, and the eye that peered up at Alcina was clouded with tears. She blinked several times, as though she were trying to dispel a dense fog shrouding her vision, and then recollection seemed to dawn on her.

“Mama?” Bela croaked, her voice hoarse and weak. Her breathing, once shallow and wheezy, began to thicken, becoming heavier and more ragged as the seconds ticked by. The incessant shivering that infected her frame worsened until Alcina thought her eyeballs may just rattle right out of her skull. She whimpered.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.”

“Mama,” Bela said again. A fresh hurricane of tears stormed her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. “Mama!”

Bela collapsed into Alcina’s arms, sobbing. Instantly, the stench of semen increased tenfold, plugging Alcina’s nostrils and tickling her tongue. She fought the urge to gag. How anyone could thirst for such a poison was unknown to her, but there wasn’t time to meddle in human mating preferences. Right now, the only thing that mattered was the girl shaking and bleating like a baby lamb against her stomach.

Alcina pulled Bela closer to her, not caring about the odor anymore. She looked over her daughter, finding more scratches and rips in her dress, but also a large red patch on the back of her head, where the blonde hair was turned scarlet with blood. There was also a nasty ring around her left ankle that looked like it had been created by some kind of beast, leaking crimson and clear serous fluid. Protectiveness flared inside of her like fire.

“What happened?” Alcina asked, unable to keep the growl out of her voice. “Who did this to you?”

Bela flinched away. Her weeping turned to words and what came out was babbled nonsense: “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry--”

“Hush, my sweet,” Alcina said, but Bela was too worked up to listen to her right now.

“No, no--” Bela shook her head, wincing as she did so. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault! I’m s-sorry!”

Alcina’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Bela sniffled. Alcina wondered if she could smell the stink on her, too.

“I-- I went out hunting. Alone. Even though you forbid it.” Her daughter hung her head shamefully, letting Alcina glimpse the wound on the back of her skull again. “I wanted-- I wanted to get you something. A gift. And I had one, too! The heart of a man! But then-- but then I got caught in a hunter’s trap and-- and--” She dissolved into tears once again.

Alcina frowned. She always knew her eldest child’s hopeless devotion to her would get her into trouble. As much as she loved how Bela looked up to her, even she had to admit that it was rather worrying. Bela seemed to function solely on praise, always scratching for any ounce of approval, wanting only to please Alcina, even if it meant throwing her own needs out the window. Alcina remembered how she once briefly mentioned how nice it would be to hear her favorite song on piano and Bela interpreted that as a request, so she taught herself how to play the entire melody over the span of three days. As beautiful as the performance had been, Bela hadn’t slept or eaten or drank anything in that time, taking away her own basic needs until she finished her “task.” She never thought about herself and her body made her pay the price for it when she blacked out instantly after playing. Now history was repeating itself all over again--but, this time, it wasn’t her own immune system that exacted a fiery punishment upon her. That much was clear from Bela’s terror.

“Bela,” Alcina said. “Who hurt you? What did they do to you?”

Bela’s shoulder shook violently with the weight of her sobs. She didn’t look up at Alcina, much too ashamed of herself. Alcina could tell that much. Her daughter was practically radiating chagrin as much as she radiated emission.

“You can tell me, darling,” Alcina urged, softening her tone. “I won’t be mad at you.”

Bela peeked up at her nervously. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny with sweat and tears. “You-- you won’t?”

“I won’t,” Alcina assured her. “I promise. I would never get mad at you.”

Bela hesitated. She appeared to be trying to calm herself down, but it all fell apart when she shifted and seemed to be struck with great pain because she let out a heart-wrenching cry and curled up in Alcina’s arms, grasping at her dress with desperate claws. When she attempted to speak, Alcina could only make out snippets in between ragged gasps and distressed whimpers and heavy sobs.

“They-- men-- came at me-- too many-- couldn’t fight-- tried-- held me down-- touched me-- so scared-- hurts-- Mama-- Mama, it hurts!”

Alcina understood.

Alcina understood and she saw red.

An animalistic snarl that could frighten wolves bubbled from her throat and she bared her sharp teeth at the front door that was still slightly ajar, letting frigid, late-autumn air creep inside like an unwanted guest. She clenched Bela tighter against her, her claws beginning to grow in and hook into her daughter protectively, not quite realizing how much strength she was using until Bela squealed in pain. Instantly, her grip loosened, her talons retracted, her teeth tucked away back behind her lips, and she jerked her head to the side, yelling for a maid. One came rather quickly, and she had the sneaking suspicion that they were being spied on, but it didn’t matter. It was beneath her at the moment. Far beneath her.

“Run a hot bath in my room,” Alcina ordered. She tucked Bela in close to her stomach, trying to hide her ruined form from prying eyes. Nobody deserved to see the girl in such a state, certainly not a lowly maid.

The maid, a lanky, ash brown-haired young woman, nodded hastily, not even sparing Bela a glance, which Alcina appreciated. This one would be spared for a while.

A noise alerted Alcina, and she looked down to see that Bela was prattling on nonsensically, her watery words half-muffled by her dress.

“I’m so sorry-- didn’t mean it-- all my fault-- shouldn’t have gone-- should have known better-- don’t deserve this--”

The last comment in particular caught Alcina like a fishhook. She squeezed Bela tightly.

“Do not say that,” she said firmly. “You deserve my care. You are very unwell, Bela.”

Bela shook her head, whimpering. “It’s my fault it happened. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have-- I shouldn’t--” Her breathing picked up.

“Bela, my sweet girl, take a breath,” Alcina said. “It’s alright. You need to breathe.”

Bela just shook her head again and buried her face back into Alcina’s stomach, not offering anymore words. She didn’t seem to be up to talking further. Alcina rubbed up and down her back to comfort her as they waited for the maid to return.

Alcina wasn’t sure how long she was crouched on the floor, breathing in the fumes of ejaculate, but the maid eventually came back, notifying her that the bath was ready. She sent her away before scooping Bela up into her arms, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her daughter. Bela buried her face against her neck, shuddering, and Alcina felt hot tears slither down over her collarbone. Alcina cooed to Bela to calm her down as she carried her to her bedroom.

Inside the bathroom, Alcina carefully removed Bela’s dress. Every movement seemed to hurt her daughter, so she worked gently, not wanting to worsen her discomfort. Once the gown was off, she threw the tattered fabric into the far corner. It would need to be burned.

Now that Bela wasn’t wearing anything, Alcina could see the full extent of her wounds. Angry red scratch marks were scored up and down her back, sides, and stomach like some kind of sick point system, some crusted on the edges with blood and discharge, others flaked with mud and dirt. Purple bite marks were scattered on her neck and breasts, as though the men who had attacked her were the blood-sucking beasts and she was the cattle.  Her thin wrists were swollen in the distinct maroon shape of fingerprints and her thighs were splattered in bruises and smeared with red--among other sick-smelling fluids.

The sight made Alcina absolutely enraged, but she stamped down her fury for the sake of her daughter. As much as she wanted to go find the monsters who did this, Bela needed her. She couldn’t just leave her.

“Alright, my darling,” Alcina said. “Let’s get you washed off.”

Bela didn’t fight her when Alcina lifted her up and set her into the hot water. In fact, she didn’t seem to be all too there anymore, too lost in her own shock and pain. She just stared numbly at the wall with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes as Alcina washed her shoulders and back and hair. Even cleaning the wound on the back of her head didn’t wake her up, despite the way she flinched in reaction to the pain.

“Bela.” Alcina gave Bela’s cheek a light pat. “My darling. Look at me.”

Bela blinked and her eyes focused on her. Alcina smiled softly at her.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Alcina cooed.

“Mama,” Bela rasped. Her head lolled back, resting against the wall the bathtub was situated against. “Hurts…”

Alcina frowned. She had a few draughts to relieve pain, but she didn’t trust the maids to get the right kind of medicine for her daughters. Not anymore. Not since Cassandra had asked for an elixir that would soothe some tooth pain she was having and a maid swapped it out for poison with the intent of killing her. Alcina had found her precious child seizing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, drowning in her own blood and froth. She vividly remembered watching Bela reach in with her fingers and scoop out the fluids from Cassandra’s mouth to keep her sister from choking further. If it weren’t for Bela’s quick thinking and excessive knowledge on poisons from spending so much time researching everything, Alcina may have lost a child that day. The maid, of course, was punished severely. When she was done with her, she wasn’t even recognizable. That being said, she would have to go and retrieve the brew herself.

Of course, there were her other two children, but she trusted them as much as she trusted the maids. Ever since Daniela and Cassandra had peer pressured Bela into drinking a random mixture they found--something about her needing to be more headstrong and stop letting them walk all over her--and Bela ended up being incredibly dizzy and unwell for several hours because that particular tonic had the strength to knock out a horse, she didn’t have the most faith that her younger daughters would grab the right bottle, whether it be intentional or not.

So that left her. Looking over Bela’s state, she knew the girl wouldn’t be happy if she went away for even a minute, but she didn’t have a choice. She would have to risk upsetting her daughter so she could relieve her of her pain.

But first, however, she needed Bela to feed, to regain at least some of her strength and consciousness.

Alcina tore open her wrist with her teeth and then pressed it to Bela’s lips. Bela instantly flinched back, her eyes popping open wide.

“It’s just me, darling,” Alcina murmured. “Just me. You’re okay.”

Bela blinked at her hazily, then looked at her bleeding wrist. Tentatively, she began to feed from it, sucking nervously from Alcina’s veins.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed.

Despite the praise, however, Bela pulled back after only a few seconds, a look of sickness on her face. When Alcina urged her to feed more, she shook her head and shrunk away with a whimper, snaking her arms around her stomach.

“Alright,” Alcina said. “I’m going to leave for just a moment, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Bela’s head jerked up. She shook it furiously.

“I’m going to go get something that will help with the pain,” Alcina told her, caressing her cheek. “Just stay calm for me. I won’t be long.”

Bela whimpered and fretted like a baby animal as Alcina left the bathroom, but she forced herself to keep from rushing back to her side. She retrieved two different draughts, both in dark vials, and returned quickly, just as she had promised. However, she seemed to be gone long enough for something else to happen because when she walked back inside the bathroom, the bathtub was empty, the floor had turned into the equivalent of a small lake, and Bela was on her hands and knees in front of the toilet, throwing up.

“My baby!”

Alcina nearly slipped in the water on the ground as she rushed to her daughter’s side. It seemed Bela had scrambled out of the bathtub in a hurry. Her dress became damp as she knelt down, but she could hardly care. She swept Bela’s hair out of the way and rubbed her back as she retched.

“Mama,” Bela moaned once she finished. She looked up at Alcina, a thin line of bile dribbling down the side of her mouth, her eyes bright with tears. “It hurts…”

“I know, darling,” Alcina stroked her cheek. “It’ll be okay soon. I have something for you that may help.”

She showed Bela the vials. Usually, Bela would start guessing what they were, always eager to show off her knowledge on these kinds of things, but she didn’t seem to care about what they were. She just seemed exhausted, hollow, drained. Empty.

Alcina was going to kill the animals that did this to her baby.

Alcina uncapped the first vial. It smelled strongly of herbs. She pressed it to Bela’s lips, and Bela sipped obediently.

“This will help with the pain,” she informed. “And this,” she opened the second vial, this one smelling faintly of alcohol. “This will purge any disgusting parasites those beasts put in you. Drink, my sweet. Rid your body of their toxins.”

Bela obeyed again, drinking it all. If she didn’t like the taste, she didn’t show it aside from a twitch of her nose.

“Now,” Alcina set both vials aside. “Do you think you can try feeding for me again?”

Bela nodded. Alcina gave her a warm smile, then pricked the same wound on her wrist and held it out to Bela. Bela latched on and began drinking her blood, this time not pulling away.

“That’s my good girl,” Alcina cooed, stroking Bela’s head with her other hand. She knew her blood would soothe Bela’s abused throat, even if it hurt to swallow. The warmth was good for her regardless. Wash away the taste. Force down whatever stickiness was still latched against her esophagus.

She wouldn’t be able to tame her anger for much longer.

When Bela finished drinking, Alcina had her wash down in the bath one more time before drying and dressing her. Her ankle still seemed to be an issue, swelling up and inflaming red, so she flushed it out with alcohol. It earned her claw marks in her shoulders when Bela clung to her and cried in reaction to the burn, but it was worth it if it meant warding off any infection.

Alcina carried Bela to the bed, already knowing she wouldn’t want to be alone. It took a moment for Bela to get comfortable, twisting and turning when both her stomach and back proved to cause her pain, before finally settling on her side, curled up tightly against Alcina’s warmth. Alcina kept her arms around her, soothing her when she got restless until, finally, she relaxed.

Or, as relaxed as someone who just got raped could be.

The thought made Alcina so angry. So fucking angry. Of all her daughters, why Bela? She would hate for this to happen to any of them, but Bela had never done anything wrong. She didn’t have the same sadism as her younger sisters. She was merciful. Even if that made her a faulty beast, she deserved this least of all.

Alcina knew Bela probably wouldn’t sleep very much, and she knew that was to be expected. She was prepared for it. She knew how this worked.

But still. Revenge couldn’t go unserved.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

--- --- ---

“Daniela! Cassandra!”

Bela’s head snapped up. “No, Mama, no--”

Mother frowned down at her. She caressed her cheek, and Bela couldn’t help but press into her hand hungrily. She craved her mother’s touch in a way she couldn’t explain. She wanted it forever and always. She desired it as much as she desired her praise. But right now, even it couldn’t dispel the building panic mounting within her.

“Please, Mama, I don’t want them to-- they can’t-- please--”

But it was too late.

The sound of buzzing stormed into the room, and Bela hid her face against her mother’s dress. She couldn’t let her sisters see her like this.

Cassandra came in first, materializing out of a swarm of beetles and roaches, then Daniela, who took shape from a seething of blowflies and gnats. Even without looking up, Bela could feel their eyes bearing into her. She tried to hide beneath the blankets, but was unwilling to separate herself from her mother’s warmth. She wished it could just be the two of them, as much as she loved her sisters.

“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked.

“I need you to watch your sister,” Mother answered. “She is unwell.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the oldest not need any care?”

Daniela nudged her, tittering. “This is Bela we’re talking about, Cassie. You know how she is. I’m still convinced I was actually the oldest, but Mother just says that Bela is the oldest to help build her confidence.”

“Please. We all know I would be the oldest.”

“Okay, okay, let’s compromise: we’d both be the better oldest sister.”

“That’s fair.”

Bela flinched at their teasing, just barely managing to bite back a whimper. She knew their taunting was always in good fun--most of the time, at least; Daniela sometimes blurred the lines between playful and hurtful--but she still let everything they said get under her skin, as though their insects were burrowing into her.

“Quiet, you two,” Mother scolded lightly. “Bela isn’t well. I’d feel better if she had someone watching over her while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Cassandra asked.

And Daniela, always quick to crack a joke, added, “Damn, Bel, are you that terrible of company?”

Bela whimpered into the folds of Mother’s dress. All it took was one stern glare from Mother to shut Daniela up.

“I’m going to deal with some business,” Mother said, and the venom used in the word ‘business’ suggested she had some terribly bloody plans in store for the men who had assaulted Bela. Bela almost felt sorry for them. Almost. But not enough.

“Can you both do this for me?”

Cassandra and Daniela nodded.

“Thank you, my doves,” Mother said. She then looked down at Bela, stroking the side of her head. “I won’t be long, darling. Your sisters will take care of you. Nothing will happen.”

Bela just barely peeked up at her. She didn’t want Cassandra and Daniela to see her with her face all blotchy and red. She would never hear the end of it if they did.

She gripped tighter to Mother’s dress, burying her face back into the soft fabric. “Please don’t go, Mama,” she begged softly, hoping that her sisters couldn’t hear her quavering.

Mother caressed the side of her head. “I must, sweetheart. I can’t let them get away with what they did to you. I won’t stand for it.”

“But you’re sitting down,” Daniela put in helpfully, and Cassandra snorted into her hand. They both shut up when Mother gave them a sharp look, but Bela didn’t miss the small, fond smile that twitched on Mother’s lips.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Mother said.

A kiss was pressed to the top of Bela’s head, and she realized this wasn’t a fight she would be able to win. Her claws were gently pried loose from the dress and the warmth she had been desperately clinging to disappeared, replaced by a chill that infected her heart like talons of ice.

“Play nice,” Mother said to Cassandra and Daniela before whisking out of the room in a hurry, her claws already brandished.

For a moment, silence was left behind. Then, a body bounced onto the bed next to Bela, and Bela flinched away. She curled up in the blankets, burying her face in the softness as Daniela got uncomfortably close.

“So…” Daniela started, practically speaking in Bela’s ear. “What happened? You seem pretty messed up.”

Bela didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her voice to not waver if she did. She couldn’t handle any more humiliation.

“I think she got her tongue cut out,” Daniela said to Cassandra.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “We literally just heard her talking. Explain that.”

“It fell off?”

Cassandra coughed to hide a laugh. She then poked Bela in the side, causing Bela to whimper in pain when a particularly sore area ached in response.

“Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you?”

Bela didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much to unpack in such a short amount of time. Their naked bodies, their disheveled hair, their sweaty penises inside her. Those animals pinning her down, licking her, forcing themselves into her, smashing their mouths against hers, clawing and grasping and groping. Their heavy breaths in her ears, the purrs about her being “so pretty for a monster,” the laughter when she tried to escape. Her own voice, ringing hollow in her mouth, and her blood, smeared all over.

She couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle it.

Another whimper bubbled forth. Bela began to cry into the blankets, unable to keep her emotions at bay. It was all too much for her.

“Aww,” Daniela cooed, and Bela couldn’t tell if she was being patronizing or genuine. “Poor thing.”

Her head was then cradled against Daniela’s chest, wrapped in both of her sister’s arms. Daniela stroked her hair with her claws, trying to be comforting, but the effect was sort of negated when her talons repeatedly brushed over the sensitive welt on the back of Bela’s head. Still, Bela appreciated the gesture, even if she was continuously wincing and growing nauseous with pain.

“Well, whatever it was,” Cassandra said. “Mother is dealing with it.”

“I hope she brings something back,” Daniela said wistfully.

Bela really hoped she didn’t. She didn’t want to see a single piece of those men, even if they were mangled and bloodied.

Shutting her eyes tightly, Bela tried to imagine that Daniela was her mother. She wanted Mother back already, and it was that clinginess that made her feel pathetic and weak. Weaker and more pathetic than she already knew she was.

Yes, it was always Bela who would rather read books than participate in torture. Bela, who was the reason they couldn’t feast on opossums. Bela, who was a poor fighter and hunter because she spent all her time learning new information or sewing instead of learning how to defend herself. Bela, who was overly polite to the maids and sometimes made friends with them. Bela, who needed her mommy’s approval to feel good about anything she did because her self-worth and self-confidence were that far into the ground. Bela, who should have been born as anyone else and could never live up to her own standards.

The tears came faster. Bela’s shoulders began to shake as she cried. She wanted Mother back. She didn’t care how pathetic that made her. She needed her mom.

“Mama,” Bela sobbed, momentarily forgetting that she wasn’t alone, but she didn’t even register the embarrassment at the moment. She was too overwhelmed with her own pitiful separation anxiety and uselessness.

“It’s okay, Bel,” Daniela said, scratching her head as though she were a hound. “Mother will be back soon!”

‘Soon’ ended up being an hour and a half, and by then, Bela was sure she had chased their mother away with her burden.

But then, the bedroom door slammed open and there was Mother, as clean as she was when she had left. However, she was wearing a different dress and there was a visible loss of tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Daniela shook Bela. “Bel, look! She’s back!”

Bela’s head snapped up. Mother gave her a loving smile.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mama,” Bela reached for her mother, not caring how childish it made her, and Mother obliged to her beckoning, sweeping over and bundling her into her warm arms. Bela curled up immediately, relaxing considerably.

“I told you I would be back,” Mother said, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

Bela couldn’t reply. She just nuzzled in closer. She felt her sisters press into either side of Mother, but she didn’t mind. She was just happy to be secure, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Before those men were inside of her, she was inside of herself. She had a feeling that they wouldn’t be leaving for awhile, even now that they were dead, but she could cope with it, as long as her mother was there to hold her together.

She just wished she had grabbed the heart.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #we'll cast some light and you'll be alright (for now) #tw: rape

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family II

Part 2: Miscommunications

A/N: part 2!! I was so overwhelmed w how much you guys enjoyed the first part, kind of made my head go blank lol. But now I rewrote it and added more ~spice. Sorry it took so long but I so appreciate all of you engaging w it! 💖

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

Sleeping in was not something that existed when you had a child and Harry learns that the hard way. By half past 7, I’m already up because of the poking on my cheeks and when I come out from brushing my teeth, I hear shouts from upstairs.

“Charlotte!” I shout up but I'm ignored. I climb the stairs and locate the door to the small voice. “Charlotte let your dad sleep!” I open the door to Charlie jumping on Harry's bed and Harry rubbing his eyes. His eyes go to mine when the door opens and he lets out a chuckle.

“Parenthood,” I sigh and try to grab Charlie from the bed. She moans to come back and wiggles her way out to run back to the bed. Harry's sitting up at this point and I blush realising he didn’t have on a shirt. I had to stop acting 12.

“I want to play!” Charlie shouts, still jumping.

“Alright you crazy monkey!” Harry grabs our daughter and whispers something to her before attacking her in tickles. She shouts for me to help but when I try to help Harry pulls me into the covers and Charlie climbs atop me to tickle me instead.

“You two sneaks!” I shout between fits of laughter but Charlie soon tires and lays beside me, her head resting on my chest. Harry lies down on the other side of her, propped up on his elbow.

“I’m just going to…” Harry grabs his phone from his bedside table and holds it above us. Charlie already loved posing for cameras, so she grins but I cover my face. “Y/N come on! One photo!”

“Fine but I get to take it,” I bargain. Harry agrees and hands me the phone, shoving in closer so our heads almost touch. I ignore the closeness and stretch the phone above us, getting my good side, and just before I click it I shout “please!” a phrase Charlie used to say when she was younger instead of cheese. It gets a giggle out of her and in the photo her eyes are squinted and her grin is pure joy. Harry is glancing at me with a faint smile on his face while my expression is stretched out in 'please.’

Suddenly the cute family photo disappears as the phone vibrates and a picture of a woman smiling on a boat appears. Harry's girlfriend. My smile curdles as I awkwardly hand over the phone to Harry. It was an abrupt reminder of what Harry and I weren’t, despite the illusion of the photo.

"Let's give your dad some privacy," I pick up Charlotte despite her protests and bring her outside.

"Who's on the phone?" She asks as I seat her on the kitchen counter. I glance at her concerned face and remember that kids were a lot more intuitive than we gave them credit for.

"His friend," I answer as truthfully as I could without breaking her heart. The weeks following our trip Charlie talked so often about having both her mom and dad together-like we were getting together forever. Even though I broke it to her gently, she still carried that flame--I didn't want to extinguish those hopes so early on.

"Is she your friend too?" Charlie asks innocently.

"Just your dad's." I kiss her forehead and then get breakfast started, so by the time Harry comes down it's almost done.

"Shit," Harry says and then glances at our daughter who's too busy with Oreo to notice his language. "I was meant to make you two breakfast your first morning here!"

"It's alright," I shrug, unable to make eye contact. "Just grab a plate."

"I feel awful," Harry joins me in the kitchen. "Have you made coffee yet?"

"No," I glance at the machine.

"I'll do that then."

"Three sugars-"

"And a drop of milk," Harry finishes. "I remember."

"Right," I flush. How odd that we keep tiny details of one another, however useless, for years after we split.

"So I sort of forgot but-"

"Mom!" Charlie interrupts Harry and I tell her it would be a minute.

"Right, well when I was talking just now w-"

"Mom! I'm starving!"

"Charlotte! Give me a minute!" I say sternly before putting the last of her strawberries on the plate. I set Charlie's breakfast up and Harry joins with our coffees. Before we even sit, Charlie begins her monologue about coffee and how she was going to drink it when she's old enough.

"That won't be for a while," I comment, glancing up at Harry who was still standing by his chair.

"I'll drink it when I'm five," she holds up her fingers and counts them down. "Then I can drink it."

Harry and I share a brief glance, him opening his mouth to say something before the doorbell rings.

"Oh sh-uh-I'll get that," Harry rushes to get the door. Charlie spills her juice in the process so I pick up the sippy cup and grab paper towels to mop the spill.

"They're right through here," Harry's voice carries over and he enters again with his...friend.

"Hi," she has a pleasant smile and hips that had obviously never carried a child. My own had never quite recovered.

"Hi," I hold up the dirty towels and quickly lower them, painfully aware of how terrible I looked. I couldn't help but compare myself to Harry's girlfriend-especially when she looked like that.

"You're daddy's friend," Charlotte says matter-of-factly.

"I am!" Her voice raises an octave as she walks towards my daughter. "I'm Miranda it's nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie looks up at me and then back to her. "Why aren't you mommy's friend?"

An awkward silence follows and I can't help but glance at Harry. He rubs the back of his neck before stepping forward towards Charlie.

"I've only just met your mommy," Miranda glances up at me with another smile but this time it's stretched too tight. "But we can all be friends! It's nice to meet you."

Charlie looks at me and I smile at her in encouragement. "Okay," she concedes before going back to her piece of toast.

"Have you had breakfast?" Harry asks her quietly.

"I had a coffee," she answers. "But we'll be late if we don't leave now."

"Have you got somewhere to be?" I ask, unaware as Harry hadn't mentioned it yesterday.

"A friend of mine has a wedding thing," she keeps glancing at Harry even though she talks to me.

"I forgot about it," Harry says. "Miranda reminded me this morning I meant to tell you but the pancake monster kept shouting for her pancakes!"

Charlie giggles and tears into another one.

"We've got to be there half past ten," Miranda says quietly to Harry.

"I'm not even ready!" Harry looks down. "I need to shower too. Give me a half hour."

"This is why I had to come early," she shakes her head at me as if we shared an inside joke. I smile knowing how fake it felt. Harry gives me a pleading look as if to say he was sorry before heading upstairs but I shake my head and go to the kitchen to wash the sticky juice off my hands. I hear Miranda talking to Charlie and stay longer than I needed to in the kitchen before heading out again.

"It was really nice to finally meet you," Miranda tells me after Harry finishes up and they get going. She bends down to high-five Charlotte. "And you too!"

"I'll see you around 5," Harry tells me. "I've left keys so you can just come and go whenever."

"I thought we were going to have lunch together," Charlie pouts, suddenly realizing what this all meant.

"I know love," Harry picks her up. "I forgot about this party I had to go to."

"You never forgot at home," Charlie's bottom lip quivers.

"Dad will be home soon," I take Charlie from Harry before the waterworks could start. "And we're gonna have so much fun together right?"

"It's bullshit!" Charlie shouts. My cheeks colour and Harry's jaw drops before he bites back a laugh.

"Charlotte!" I scold but she runs away from my arms. I meet Miranda's eyes and they're wide as saucers.

"I don't know where she...picked up on that." I say lamely. I never swore in front of her-well rarely did. She must have been listening yesterday. Harry tries to say something about it but I cut him off. "Just go. I'll deal with her."

He hesitates but leaves with Miranda who looks relieved to go. I feel bad for Charlotte, knowing how excited she was to spending her whole first day with Harry and I find myself annoyed at him too for forgetting the event and ruining the plans.

I find our daughter curled up in bed and before I could give her a warning about swearing she's wrapped her arms around my neck and shoves her snotty face in my shoulder, apologizing for saying the bad word.

"As long as I don't hear it again," I say without much conviction. I was too upset with Harry to be upset with her too.

I put Charlotte in front of the TV as I clean up breakfast and try to work through my feelings. I couldn't tell if I was more upset about Harry bailing on us or seeing him with his girlfriend; anyone with eyesight could see they had good chemistry and it bothered me. But I came here knowing he was dating somebody else and knowing nothing would happen between us. But then last night, Harry was more affectionate than he needed to be. Maybe he was working through old emotions too, I figure. Maybe I didn't need to read into every single thing.

I decide that Charlie and I wouldn't feel sorry for ourselves and dress us up to step out. I pay a visit to an old friend and we all go out to lunch-Charlie being kept company by my friend's five year old. As we head out I check my phone to see nine missed calls from Harry and a few texts asking where I was-it was already 6 and I hadn't even noticed.

I text Harry simply saying we were on our way home and listen to Charlie talk about her new friend the whole tube ride home. But once we reach Harry's flat, my mood sours. For starters, his girlfriend is still over and Harry is really upset I hadn't picked up.

"Where've you been?" Harry asks calmly but his annoyance betrays his true feelings.

"Hey," I let Charlotte down. "We were just having a late lunch with y/f/n and time got away from us."

"I've been calling and texting-you didn't hear?" Harry, surprisingly, is still trying to remain calm.

"My phone was away," I laugh off the tension noting that Miranda sat awkwardly at the dining table. "We had the keys so-"

"I was worried," Harry glances at Charlie who was preoccupied.

"You told us we could spend the day out--that's why you gave the keys," I say a little aggressively.

"I wanted-I thought we could go out before dinner since I couldn't spend the morning with Charlotte." Charlie looks up at the sound of her full name.

"I had lots of fun with my new friend," Charlie states and I could tell she was still angry at Harry with the stubborn set of her chin. She'd gotten that from me.

"Just mixed signals," I interrupt. "It's not a big deal-we just need to communicate our plans better, okay?"

"I booked us tickets for a movie," Harry's continues, his voice is definitely bordering on aggressive and I wonder why he was so upset and making such a show while his girlfriend was still here. "And dinner reservations and now that's gone to waste! Keep your phone on you if-"

"No," I say assertively to stop Harry as his voice rises. "I understand I'm living at your place because I had no choice, but you don't get to speak to me like that. We're Charlotte's parents but we're nothing to each other. Next time, don't forget your own plans and communicate to me clearly if you want to go out with all three of us. Now excuse me."

I pick my bag up again and head to the room, my eyes burning and my heart racing. I hear Charlie's little footsteps behind me and I feel guilty that it hadn't even been a day and she had to witness us arguing. Why was parenting so hard?

I stay in the room and don't come out even as Charlie heads back out again when Harry calls us for dinner or when I hear Miranda leave or a movie being put on. I stay on my laptop, working, and ignoring the slight hunger at the back of my mind.

A sharp knock on the door catches my attention. The door opens slightly and Harry stands looking the complete opposite from the afternoon.

"Hi," he lets himself in and leans against the wall. "I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to get that upset with you I was more frustrated with myself for forgetting the party in the morning and ruining Charlie's first day here. And I was upset that she was upset with me so I planned something fun with her to make up for it and it fell through too."

I stay silent for a moment, after Harry finishes. I was still upset with him. And that wasn't a good excuse to chew me out in front of his girlfriend.

"I understand that," I shrug. "But I don't appreciate the way you just came at me with all those accusations. Especially in front of our daughter and while your girlfriend was there."

"Miranda's fine," Harry says. "She wouldn't have minded-"

"I minded!" I exclaim. "Oh my god Harry I've only just met her! This isn't my house or my city and to have a stranger sit through an argument with my baby daddy is not very fun."

"Right," Harry gets it. "Sorry. I just...keep feeling like I'm fucking up everything. I wanted Charlie here and to be with her as much as I could and now I have an angry three year old. She only just started talking to me because I gave her extra dessert."

I freeze, "Harry if you gave her extra dessert you're dealing with the consequences."

"What do you mean?" Harry perches on the bed.

"She's going to stay up and be super hyper and I'm not dealing with that."

"Ugh," Harry falls back onto the bed. "This is why I need you. You can't be angry at me, I'm such an amateur at this parenting thing and you're the wise one with all the knowledge like don't give your kid a second helping of dessert."

Harry rubs his eyes from where he lays, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. I glance away, old feelings stirring up.

"Is there still dinner?" I change the subject.

"Of course," Harry shoots up. "I'll warm some up for you."

As I eat, I'm entertained first by the children's movie and then by Harry dealing with a hyperactive Charlie. She begins hopping around and jumping from couch to couch, tackling Harry and then coming my way. I pick her up and blow raspberries on her belly as she laughs.

"Tire her out quickly," I advise Harry as I go to clean up. "She'll fall asleep faster."

As I settle into bed, my heart twinges hearing the voices outside my room. It sounded like a family, like a family that could be mine. And the thought keeps me up even after the voices die down and Harry carries a sleeping Charlie into the room.

I keep my eyes closed and feel him tuck her in beside me. I sense him standing above the bed, the smell of him grows stronger as he leans over and kisses Charlie goodnight. I feel him hesitate before he presses his lips to my temple. I relive that single moment as he closes the door behind him and Charlie snuggles into me. And I start to realise that staying with Harry was one of my worst ideas yet.

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #fic #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #I can't decide if I want more drama or fluff #if ur reading this pls help #lol #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #writingsfromhome

[eyeballjazz]

First of all I've been binge reading your fics whenever I get some free time so huge kudos to ya <3

Second, I've got a fun lil ask for ya: domestic headcanons for HB/PI and SS/DD :D

how do they share all their houses' chores? We all know HB is probably an amazing cook and DD looks like an organization freak but what about the rest? Does anyone besides HB knows how to cook a proper meal? We need to know!!

Well, hell!

First of all, thank you so much this is so sweet! Absolutely makes my day to know you’re enjoying my work. I hope you get lots more time to read soon, bro!

And second I’m about to go ON so I’ll chop the post here, but I’ve got headcanons old and new cooked up for you:

As I’m sure you’ve noticed I like writing about buildings so I can tell you exactly what everyone’s houses are like. The whole Crew lives across from each other on a block in the center of their territory, Slick and Droog in a Victorian townhouse and Hearts and Clubs in a duplex that’s broken into two railway style spaces. Slick would live shoebox if it was up to him, so thankfully Droog has very opinionated taste and likes spending his husband’s money enough to buy a whole antique for them to live in. 

I don’t have to tell you that cooking is huge for the Crew. They’re a small family of Italian uncles, so cooking is a major factor of their lives. 

As skill goes Droog is the best cook out of anyone. He’s self taught but for the very basics and some old family recipes his mother drilled into him back in Tuscany. And like everything with Droog, he’s someone who grew up dirt poor and now desperately wants to show off taste and affluence by being a highbrow snob. That means his skill for cooking has driven towards very elegant, subtle cuisine, lots of French influence (he says it must have been Italian, originally, but the French got famous for it somehow), and small portion size. Think of the fanciest restaurant you've ever been to and how teeny the serving sizes were and then imagine it was cooked by someone who is ferociously closeted and you’ve got it. 

Despite all that, Droog has not had working taste buds in at least thirty years because he’s smoked two packs a day since he learned to walk. Slick, likewise, had a bad smoking habit and quit for the kids so he’s not swimming in buds either. Add to that the fact that he’s had his nose broken so many times he’s functionally lost his sense of smell and you’ve got a match made in heaven. 

Lucky them, Karkat and Aradia get the spoils of Droog’s great cooking and are the picky eaters their fathers wished they could have been as boys. Droog is very proud to have snotty kids. So it is his great displeasure when, instead of having a single scallop lightly seared in browned butter then dusted with rosemary and thyme, the kids just want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But both happen regularly. 

Hearts is a close second but of a very different school. He learned to cook primarily from his mother, who is a master of Southern cooking and made sure her boy knew how to do for himself before she let him leave her home. The rest he learned as a cook in the army, and then later from Droog after Hearts insisted he learn some real Italian recipes since his father never cooked when Hearts was a boy. Hearts still has a habit for cooking for a literal army and so he often cooks for the whole family. 

His food is mostly soul food/American southern and he seasons hard and often. One might even say it is dangerously flavorful, and everyone agrees it is extremely fortifying. It’s even strong enough to get through to Droog, who can (with the addition of hot sauce) taste it and secretly wishes Hearts would offer to teach him a thing or two.

Too willful to learn, Slick is a very low third place. He doesn’t care about food much and burns most things he tries to cook out of impatience. Plus, he hasn’t needed to learn since he married Droog so why start now?

Pickle Inspector, dead last, can’t so much as fry an egg. He loves food and knows the locations and operating hours of every restaurant and pub and gas station hot bar in the city. But cooking itself eludes him. He does occasionally try to go vegetarian but folds immediately when offered the chance to have a big beautiful meal he didn’t have to cook himself.

This matches up perfectly with Hearts’s master plan, which is to feed Pickle Inspector to within an inch of his life. And Pickle, like a stray cat, loves the attention and knows where the free food is. Hearts insists he’s too skinny and will often say ‘Just have a little,’ and then hand him a plate with half a lasagna on it.

HBPI is a ‘you cook, I clean’ split. Self conscious of his lack of cooking knowledge Pickle does every dish in the house whenever he sneaks in (read: breaks in) to spend time with Hearts and Tavros. And very often when he breaks in he tries to carve out some time to spend playing DnD with Tavros, with an ambition to get him and Hearts in a game so they can show Hearts a more kinetic version of fantasy than having a read a lot of books by nudists from the 60’s.

Because they may or may not be out as a couple to the Crew, Pickle and Hearts don’t get to spend a lot of time out on Hearts’s front porch together, although kicking back on the porch is one of Hearts’s favorite things to do. But, every so often, they take their coffee together out on the porch way before anyone else is awake. They watch the city all in blue together, right before the sunrise.

SSDD and chores are much more complicated.

Droog is fastidious, meticulous, and intense about cleaning. He also uses it to avoid or ignore any emotions he may be feeling so their Victorian is constantly spotless. Droog does all the kitchen chores, all the rewarding dusting of art pieces, mantles, and mirrors, and looks after the kids to make sure they learn how to keep their own spaces clean.

He dumps all the chores where you actually chance getting dirty on Slick. Taking out the trash, mowing the lawn, cleaning the bathrooms, washing the cars, touching anything weird, bugs, that’s all Slick.

Slick also looks after their garden, not for any love of plants but because he’s gotten himself into an all out war with a warren of rabbits that want to eat Droog’s spices and tomatoes. The war has been multi-generational for the rabbits and they’re too invested to pull out now. Slick is the only person who really looks after the garden, Droog assumes ownership of the plants but doesn’t care about them beyond having fresh basil to cook with.

Slick’s contempt for the bunnies and ferocity in keeping his husband’s plants alive have made him an unwitting expert on what a good spice garden needs. Like Droog, his feelings for the whole thing aren’t tied to love for the plants but instead pride and anger. Droog, meanwhile, loves seeing Slick do violence in his name and will often watch his tantrums in the backyard whenever one of the tomato plants gets chewed up.

Whew, this got long quick. Since it’s already so long, I’ll leave you with one more hc which is that Pickle Inspector knows how to juggle. Thank you again for the great questions, this was so fun!!!

#the midnight crew #ssdd #hbpi #spades slick #diamonds droog #hearts boxcars #pickle inspector #the intermission #I fucking love domesticity bro I LOVE IT

[dracoqueen22]

Oooh! JazzRod with possessive Jazz and clueless Rod?

Rodimus hated diplomatic functions. 

He hated the smiling, and the handshaking, and the polite conversation, and the pretend interest, and the thinly veiled threats and the empty promises of good faith and cooperation. He hated attending these things, and only did so because it was required of him, because as the heir-apparent to Optimus Prime, he would have to be skilled at diplomacy. 

Grimlock wasn’t so bad. Starscream either. The Decepticons were generally good for telling it like it was, and Starscream especially could be counted on for making a sarcastic comment about one of the other diplomats. Rodimus laughed, though he shouldn’t have, until Ultra Magnus inevitably arrived to drag him toward some other high muckity-muck demanding attention. 

Usually, it was a Neutral. 

More rarely, it was some emissary from the Galactic Federation, some snotty alien species who thought they were better than the Cybertronians because they hadn’t had a civil war which ended up spilling onto other planets. 

Jazz often attended these events because he was audials and optics, seamlessly sliding through the crowd and picking up snippets of conversation no one would expect him to hear. He was charming, and seductive, and he always came back with the most delicious gossip. 

Rodimus barely saw Jazz during these events, which was a shame because he could have used the distraction, but he resigned himself to the reality of it all. 

Until tonight. 

For some reason, Jazz was sticking to his side like they were magnetically attached at the hip. He’d shooed off Ultra Magnus, he’d glared off Springer, and the only mech he seemed to tolerate with any of his usual charm was Optimus. 

Rodimus had no clue what was going on in Jazz’s head, but now was not the time to bring up his odd behavior, because they were surrounded by Sharkticons in the shape of diplomatic emissaries. 

And one of Rodimus’ least favorites was approaching now -- Regent Glaxio from the planet Exelon Five. The Exelons were an organic species, smaller than the average Cybertronian but larger than Jazz, with far too many arms, and far too many tentacles. 

Also. They were… handsy. 

Rodimus planted a smile on his face. “Nice to see you again, Regent Glaxio,” he said, offering a hand to the ambassador, who took it in two of her soft appendages, her long, long fingers wrapping around his wrist and caressing the thinner derma. 

Jazz went rigid beside him. 

“It is a pleasure, as always, Rodimus Prime,” Glaxio said, her bubbly voice sounding weird through the universal translator. “You are truly a stunning representation of your species.” 

Rodimus tried to take back his hand. 

Glaxio’s grip persisted. It was no secret that many Exelons had a… fondness for Cybertronians. There were many a Cybertronian who’d landed on Exelon Five during the war and found a place of refuge if they didn’t mind a little cross-species interfacing. 

Rodimus was not one of those mechs. 

“You flatter me once again, Regent,” Rodimus said. “Thank you for attending. It is important to us that we continue to foster a good relationship with our galactic neighbors.” 

He tried to take back his hand again, but Glaxio stroked over his inner wrist again, finding a sensor with the practiced ease of one who had numerous Cybertronian berthmates before. 

Jazz’s field flickered with agitation. “I’ll be having you release our Prime now, Regent,” he said, his tone pleasant and cheerful to anyone who didn’t know better. “He’s taken.” 

“On my planet, there is no such thing,” Glaxio said, her gaze flicking to Jazz, but if she took any offense, there was no sign. “We all share and share alike.” 

Jazz leaned in, curling an arm around Rodimus’ waist, while the other rested on Glaxio’s wrist, a light touch. “That’s nice, but you’re not on your planet right now. Yer on ours. And here, we don’t share.” His fingers flexed, too gentle to be a squeeze, but it was a warning nonetheless, before he released her wrist. 

“As flattered as I am, my guardian is correct,” Rodimus said, keeping his tone bland. The last thing he needed was to cause another Incident. “My interest is reserved for my partner alone.” 

Glaxio exhaled, a bubbly wet sound, and finally, her fingers uncurled from Rodimus’ wrist, withdrawing. “It is a shame, this. You really are quite lovely. We could make a beautiful peace together.” 

She reached up, as if she intended to touch his face, but Jazz’s engine revved again -- audibly, a growl this time -- and Glaxio seemed to think better of it. 

“Ya can make peace with words,” Jazz said. “Or else you’d be a pretty poor diplomat, right?” He grinned, a smile with too much denta for it to be anything but a threat. 

Glaxio withdrew, pressing both sets of hands together in front of her body, just the fingertips touching. “You are correct,” she said, to Jazz, before she looked at Rodimus, the slightest curve to her thin lips. “Perhaps I shall see if the Decepticon commander is more inclined to sharing.” 

Rodimus snorted before he could stop himself. “Good luck with that. I don’t know which of the two is more possessive in that relationship -- Grimlock or Starscream.” 

Amusement danced in Glaxio’s eyes. “Possessive, yes.” She chuckled, still an odd and bubbly sound. “Your partner would know something of that as well.” 

She drifted away before Rodimus could retort, and frankly, he was too glad to see her go. Let someone else navigate that minefield. 

Rodimus sighed. “That was not very discreet.” 

Jazz looked up at him, face full of innocence that Rodimus did not believe for a second. “There’s diplomacy and then there’s rudeness, and that was fragging rude.” He pressed his fingers in on Rodimus’ backstrut, chaste but pointed. “You’re mine.” 

Well, that explained why Jazz was sticking particularly close this time around at least. 

“You do realize I have zero interest in berthing an Exelon, right? I mean…” Rodimus made sure they were reasonably alone before he let himself shudder. “They’re squishy.” 

“It’s not about what you’d do, it’s about her touching things she shouldn’t,” Jazz retorted and he pulled out a meshcloth, already pre-dampened. “Here. Your hand is probably all sticky now.” 

Rodimus chuckled, but accepted the offer because Jazz was correct. Where Glaxio’s fingers had teased into his seams there was now an oily residue. 

“You should talk to Xaaron next,” Jazz suggested. “He can keep his hands to himself.” 

“And where will you be?” Rodimus asked. 

Jazz took the dirtied rag and tucked it back into some invisible pocket. “Right next to you.” 

Of course. 

Well, at least Rodimus wouldn’t be bored. 

***

#flash fiction fills #raw unedited fic #transformers #crown the empire series #Rodimus Prime #Jazz #Jazz/Rodimus #SFW text #warning for unwanted touching #oldenoughtoknowbetter

[steddieonmywaywardson]

Aaron Dingle Week Day 4

In which Seb gets into a little trouble at school...

Prompt - “You’ll always be our baby”

Seb ripped off his school tie as soon as he came in through the front door. He tossed it idly over the back of the sofa. No double it would snake its way to the floor at some point and there’d be a mad dash to find it in the morning but, for now at least, he didn’t have to worry about it. 

“Alright Seb?” Robert greeted. He gave his son his customary hair tousle. It was the old, familiar sign of his love and it irritated Seb no end. It took him ages to get his hair into a perfect bed-head style and it took his Dad less than thirty seconds to totally ruin it. 

“What’s for dinner?” Seb asked as he kicked his school shoes off. Robert raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment when he left them by the sofa along with his school bag. 

“I’m making lasagna,” 

“Nice one,” Seb grinned. His Dad was an awesome cook. Way better than Daddy Aaron or his Aunt Liv. He was probably even better than his Aunt Victoria but there was no way in hell he was going to say that one out loud. 

Seb sat himself down at the kitchen table just as his Daddy Aaron came in through the front door. He was dressed for the scrap yard, in his steel toe capped boots and old jeans and sweater. Seb couldn’t help but grin as he watched him kick off the boots and leave them next to his school shoes. 

“Alright kid?” Aaron asked as he gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and gave Robert a kiss. “Summat smells good,” 

“Lasagna,” Robert replied. “I’m serving up,”

“Nice one,” Aaron quickly washed his hands and sat down at the table. Robert dished up three portions of lasagna and put a bowl of garlic bread in the middle of the table. 

Seb listened as his dads shared stories about their work days. One of his Dad’s stories about some business deal was taking so long, Seb was hoping to avoid any questions about his own day. Eventually though, the inevitable happened. 

“So Seb, how was school?” Aaron asked.

Seb sighed. That was the thing about his Daddy Aaron. When he asked how school was, he actually wanted to know. A simple ‘alright’ or ‘fine’ wouldn’t do. His Daddy had once explained that he hadn’t had the best education or done particularly well when he’d been at school and he wanted to make sure that his son didn’t have the same problems. He was there at every parent’s evening, asking millions of questions. He would look over his school books, read every single word of his reports and checked over his homework. His Dad did it too but not with the same ‘enthusiasm’. As long as his grades were good and his homework was done, it was fine with him. 

“It was just a regular day,” Seb replied with a shrug. “We had PE today so we played football. There weren't many of us there ‘cos everyone’s got that cold. Y’know, the one I had? The one you wouldn’t let me off school with? even though I was pretty much dying?” That was another thing about his Dads. You had to be collapsed on the floor puking blood before they’d consider letting you off school. 

“You were fine Seb,” Robert said as he helped himself to more lasagna. “It was just a little common cold,” 

“We’d probably have believed ya if your cold hadn’t given you a rash,” Aaron added. “One that’s the same colour as a red felt tip,”

“Whatever,” Seb huffed. “I got to be team captain” he boasted around a mouthful of garlic bread. “Joe got to be the other one,” He added bitterly. He hated Joe. He was one of the posh kids who went around acting like he was better than any of the others. Seb had once pointed out if he was so rich then he would’ve been sent to a private school and Joe had spent the rest of day going round looking majorly pissed off. Since then, he’d kind of had it in for him. 

“Ugh, I hate that kid,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Snotty little brat,” 

“And he totally thinks he’s better at football than he is!” Seb added, keen to bash his sworn enemy as much as possible. “Like really, the way he struts around the pitch you’d think he’d been picked to play for the premier league,”

“Except he’s so crap at lessons he probably can’t spell premier league,” Aaron cut in. 

“Aaron!” Robert chided. “Carry on with the story Seb,”

“Well we started picking teams. I pick at my mates obviously and Joe picks his shi-, erm, stupid mates until there’s one kid left. Justin. He’s always last to be picked. He’s not really into sports. So Joe leans over to me and says, “Hey White, looks like you’ll be left with that queer Justin,” and then his team all start laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. Then Will, one of my mates looks at me and I know he’s planning something. He hates all that homophobic shi--rubbish too,” 

“I told you I hate that kid,” Aaron grumbled to Robert. “Saying stuff like that,” Robert patted his hand but continued to focus on Seb.

“We got Justin and it’s whatever. I don’t really care that he’s not good at football. He’s pretty funny when you get to know him and we figure he can just be a defender. He doesn’t have to run all that much but it’s not as important as goalkeeper,” 

“That’s good of you son,” Robert said proudly. 

“Yeah, well,” Seb hurried on quickly. He wasn’t keen to get on with the next part but he didn’t want his Dad to start off on some embarrassing tangent about how proud he was or how, no matter what, ‘you’ll always be our baby’. His Dad liked to do it a lot and it was cringey as hell. “So we get into our team huddle and we decide that if there’s a collision on the pitch we need to go down shouting because the teacher will give us the foul. Pretty smart right? The match started and weren’t not doing too bad although someone in Joe’s team scores really quickly and that just makes Joe worse. He starts saying stuff like ‘it’s men against queers’ and keeps trying to shove into Justin,”

“Didn’t your teacher notice any of this was going on?” Aaron asked. He had an incredulous look on his face which, in Seb’s experience, often led directly to his angry Daddy Aaron face. 

“That’s the thing, Joe’s so sly. He always makes sure there’s no teacher ever around when he does that shi--stuff. Anyway, half time is called so we all head to the benches to grab some water. Then Joe walks past me and says that my dads are--” Seb paused suddenly. He’d gotten so into telling his story that he’d forgotten he wasn’t going to mention that particular part. 

“What did he say Seb?” Robert asked. 

“I don’t wanna say,” Seb replied. He stared at his empty plate, knowing full well that his dads were probably sharing looks over his head. It kind of freaked him out how they seemed to be able to communicate without saying anything. 

“It’s ok mate,” He felt Daddy Aaron’s hand on his shoulder. “We won’t get mad at you for saying it. Even if it’s something really bad,” 

“I’m not gonna say the actual word,” Seb said, still staring at his plate. “But it’s a horrible word for gay people,” 

“It’s ok son,” Robert said gently. “It’s a horrible word and I know that you’re far too intelligent and sensitive to ever use it,” 

“Like hell it’s ok!” Aaron fumed. “I’m not having some snotty little so and so insulting my son! I’m going to the school tomorrow and I’m going to get this sorted out!” 

“Um, well...actually...you’re gonna have to go to the school anyway,” Seb replied sheepishly. He started to fiddle with his knife and fork, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. 

“And why’s that?” Robert asked suspiciously. 

“Let me explain first!” Seb said quickly. “When we got back to the pitch, Joe decided to start trying to play dirty. I’ve got the ball and he suddenly slides towards me and tries to boot me really hard on the ankle. I managed to dodge and everything and ‘cos the teacher is up the other end of the pitch, Joe called me a ‘queer piece of trash’ and...I got mad. And...well...I might have punched him...which might have started a fight…the teacher had to split us up and we both had to go and see the headteacher. So I get called into his office and he wants to know why I started it. I told him all about Joe and that he keeps making all these homophobic comments. I said some kids would find that really intimidating. Then I told him that it’s a slur and hate speech and that he and his staff have a duty of care to make sure their students feel safe in the school environment regardless of sexual orientation…” 

“That’s great kid,” Aaron replied. He had a proud smile on his face. “I’m proud of you for sticking up for what you believe in-”

“Although violence wasn’t the right way to deal with it,” Robert cut in, flashing a significant look at Aaron. 

“I know Dad, I’m sorry,” Seb replied. He got out of his seat and started to gather up all of the dinner dishes. He offered what he hoped was a sincere enough admonished look. It was beginning to look like he might’ve just gotten away with it. He picked up the stack of plates he’d just made and was about halfway to the sink when his Dad stopped him.

“Hang on a minute Seb, you still haven’t told us what the principal said,”

“Well, erm, pretty much what you said Dad. That violence isn’t the way to deal with bullies,” 

“And?” Robert clamped his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised. Seb knew that he was well and truly busted. 

“And he kind of suspended me for a week…”

#aaronweek2020 #aarondingleweek2020 #aaron dingle #seb white #robert sugden #robron #robron fic #emmerdale fic #thomas writes

[soulvomit]

I’ve been thinking about, a lot, how it was really, really difficult for me to even learn the concept of “offense.” To clear things up, before I even go further: I understood that racism was a thing and that sexism was a thing, and based on my own upbringing I understood bigotry as something done to living family members. And my parents were pretty openly and outspokenly feminist and very progressive, by 1970s and 80s standards.  The times I WAS called out for something when I was younger, I did understand that I hurt the other person’s feelings, and I apologized and was careful not to do that thing again. But “middle class WASP girl offendedness” was very different from an actual callout. This was the kind of offense wherein either I’d violated an unwritten social rule or I’d offended someone’s delicate sensibilities or I admitted to liking something they didn’t like, or I admitted to not liking a particular thing, and they didn’t want to be seen with me. This was about ways in which certain higher status girls got offended over things that offended virtually nobody else, and expected to be treated like little princesses, and I experienced it as something that higher status girls weaponized against other people.   So someone being “middle class WASP offended” was NOT the same as someone being actually hurt. The thing is, in person, I COULD TELL THE DIFFERENCE between someone being snotty vs being hurt. There is a whole different social dynamic involved in each, and totally different paralanguage, and different expressions, and different tones of voice. There is a huge amount of context involved in telling the difference. This is almost 100% lost in online interaction, where hurt people can use snotty language and snotty people can use hurt language and there’s no way you can tell the difference!  If somebody was offended because I did something racist, I could process that and try my best to repair it. But if someone was offended by me just for being neurodivergent or gender non conforming or weird or poorer, or simply by being a girl who wasn’t “sugar and spice and everything nice” and super delicate and appealing to adults for protection, then really, the only way to answer them was with “fuck off.” (And in the 90s, for a while, I had broader permission to be myself.) To go on... The way in which I was socialized, meant that I wasn’t allowed to actually be offended at anything, and even by the time I got into tech, I already  had a really, really thick skin. It’s where, in cases like Adria Richards and Donglegate, I feel like a space alien, because tbh, if two dudes had been making “dongle” jokes to each other two rows behind me? I wouldn’t have even noticed. I grew to adulthood around dirty hippies and uncouth men and awkward teenage guy nerds, and I had to learn that I was SUPPOSED to be offended at a tremendous amount of stuff (and other women were paying attention) and I was SUPPOSED to be policing the behavior of everyone around me. 

Except that when I was being raised: whenever I tried to perform “snotty WASP girl” stuff around my parents, I got shut down immediately, and sometimes my mom would tell me I was acting like a Nazi. (I don’t even remember NOT knowing what a Nazi was.) So, I grew up with the idea that someone being offended by me, is probably being offended at me, and just trying to police me. 

And it’s not lost on me that it’s pretty close to how “Kyle culture” tends to experience the offendedness of “Karen culture,” and acts offended by offendedness.  Part of the reason I had trouble with taking female offendedness at all seriously for half of my life, is because I definitely felt that people who were offended by me, were actually the ones who were being oppressive. Why? Because the people who were offended by me were always higher status than me: they were prettier, they were popular, they were richer, they were whiter, they were Christian, etc. And often, I’d offended them just by existing - by being neurodivergent, by being poorer, by being a girl who had been socialized by dudes, and often, by using big words. Especially by reading books that were past my grade level because there really are adults and the children they brainwash who think that this is sick and wrong, that children must be kept stunted at the level they’re slotted into in school lest they be exposed to sick, sinful ideas. I offended these same girls by being a girl who was more streetwise, by being a girl who played with boys, and by being a girl who liked the things I liked. I seemed to offend girls by basically being in the same room and breathing.   

When the 90s rolled around and with them, gross-out culture and snark culture, I reveled in this new freedom.  How I’d react to them being offended, really depends upon why they were offended. If someone said I was being racist or something, or just being an asshole, that’s something I had a database for and I could address that, because I didn’t actually want to be a racist, or an asshole, etc. 

But if what they were offended at was some niche thing specific to them and they were just being an asshole toward me - then, really, fuck them, that’s how I learned to process this.   

[ayyyez]

Omg this blog is my life ok can I ask for some neji scenario where itachi and his s/o baby sit Sarada?

a/n: I’m not sure if you put Neji’s name in there by mistake or if you wanted uncle headcanons for both Neji and Itachi so I did both just in case :) 

Neji Hyuga

-if he doesn’t have kids of his own he’s so awkward with small children. The Hyuga compound didn’t really have a warm, nurturing environment to say the lease so he tries to remember what his father did with him. He remembers a snowball fight and running around. Perhaps his nieces and nephews like that? 

-God he’s just so awkward. Tries to have regular conversations with kids but it just comes out as weird small talk. ‘So that’s your toy, huh?’ If they’re old enough he falls back on teaching them shinobi things. Is full of fun facts that makes the kids go ‘Wooooow!’ If that get’s to boring he will straight up just teach them fighting techniques lol after all he learnt young why shouldn’t they? 

-It’s up to you to be the fun aunty/uncle. You got to be more mellow because Neji is so rigid. He’s got a stick up that ass. He will learn from you though and eventually mellow a little. Take them for walks, go for a picnic, give them piggybacks, he will follow suit. Doesn’t deal with snotty noses or sticky hands. Very off putting. Kind of turns him off kids tbh. Will obsessively carry wipes to wipe them off constantly when they get dirty. 

-Doesn’t like holding other people’s babies. He just doesn’t get it. Also he’s terrified, despite knowing he will never, of dropping it. Also babies tend to cry around him. He doesn’t know why maybe it’s just his stern face. He hates it. Will look adoringly while you hold the baby though. That makes him want kids of his own. When he succeeds with his nephews/nieces  then he thinks maybe he could be a good father despite his fears.

-If he has children then he’s a bit more okay around them. Not as awkward but always ready to dish out discipline if they fight. Tries to tell them stories from his youth in order to make them get along. Tries to teach his own kids to get along with the cousins and not make the same mistakes he did. Is really humbled when they play together. 

-Neji is the scary uncle. Not because he’s mean or super strict it’s just his manner and the way he talks like such an adult. Doesn’t do that baby talk or anything. Unless they’re 2 and fall over crying. He speaks to them softly then and it’s enough to melt your heart. He’ the uncle with the healthy snacks. You got to be the fun one that let’s them have a little sugar. He will give you that look. The whyareyoudoingthistome look. Give him a smooch and he’ll be fine. 

Itachi Uchiha

-He’s very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint. Will teach Sarada (or any niece and nephew) important life lessons. He’s like the wise old uncle without the old part. Think Uncle Iroh from atla tea and all but less jolly and more straight up chill vibe. Always smiling even when scolding them. 

-Loves bringing them sweets. You tell him not to do it all the time or their parents will scold you. He tells you it’s fine Sasuke would never scold him for such a thing. Sasuke always tries but Itachi weasels his way out if it so easily. It frustrates you how much of a smooth talker he is. 

-During holidays he is big on giving books as presents even if they don’t appreciate it, he knows one day they will (and he’s right). You always throw in something they like, like toys or things from their wishlist. You both spoil them rotten. If you don’t have any kids with Itachi then you put all your parenting into the kids and look after them often. 

-If you have kids together then they’re always going to be together. The two of you and Sasuke and his partner (Sakura or whoever) have a deal where a few times a week one couple will look after all the kids to encourage them to get along and give parents a little alone time. It also works if one or two of you have to go away on missions. 

-Itachi tries to convince them to love sweet things to annoy Sasuke. It gives him life to see Sasuke’s children have different tastes to him. Will read them bedtime stories and end up reading on long past them falling asleep. He gets way too caught up in the stories. Pretends he hasn’t read ahead next time they continue. 

-Will teach them Sharingan techniques should they awaken it. Hopes they don’t. Teaches them to protect themselves regardless. Gives them forehead kisses when they cry. Tells them it will make the pain go away. It melts your heart to watch. Will fall asleep doing activities with him. Do no underestimate his ability to fall asleep anywhere. The floor, against a wall, on the lawn. He’s a sleepy old man at heart. 

#request #anon #neji #hyuga #neji hyuga #itachi #uchiha #itachi uchiha #headcanon #headcanons #hc #hcs #uncle headcanons #nart shippuden #fic #nejixreader #neji/reader #itachi/reader #itachixreader #Anonymous #Ask

[spiderparkerpeterman]

so basically i’m baby

hmm. my last fic wasn't very popular, oops. back to fluff and feel-good content! enjoy!

content: fluff, reader being done with peter's shit, shenanigans involving those of the fur and baby kinds

warnings: reader is a meme because i have chaotic energy, lapslock, minor existential stuff

word count: 2139 (fuck oops)

--

you were lying on your stomach on peter's bed, watching him putter around his dorm room, putting together a presentation for his photography elective. you didn't have a due date for another week, so you had taken the chance to lounge around and laugh at peter for his assignment woes. you were scrolling through instagram when an ad for some baby clothes company came up.

"urgh," you groaned, "i look up baby carriers one time and now instagram thinks i'm pregnant."

peter looked at you from the floor where several undeveloped rolls of pictures surrounded him. "why'd you look up baby carriers?"

"i thought it'd be funny to put my spider-plushie in there and carry it around campus. like 'here's my baby, oh wait it's spider-man!'" you replied with a grin.

"i should have never allowed spider-plushie to be made. you're a menace to society, y/n," peter replied. "anyways, what's so bad about instagram giving you all those ads? never too early to start looking for good baby stuff."

you raised an eyebrow. "i'm not going to hoard baby supplies for a baby that i'll never have, peter. that's weird."

"what do you mean, 'for a baby you'll never have?'" peter asked, to which you groaned again.

"peter. my darling. love- no, wait- larb of my life. i thought you knew? must not have told you. i don't really want kids," you said, shuffling to the edge of the bed so you could hang off of it, putting your hands on the floor to keep yourself horizontal. you were really close to peter's face.

peter's now sad, pouting face.

"you don't want kids?" he asked, feeling his future almost melt away. he'd always imagined having a few kids, watching them grow up and go off to school and then college and growing old with you in your cosy little suburban house with a nice backyard and secret basement for all his spider-man needs. peter loved kids. he often went to orphanages and hospitals to play with and give hope to the kids of new york.

"sorry," you said honestly. "i've just never seen myself with kids."

"you'd make a great mom though," peter whined. you blushed a little- it was a nice compliment, sure, but motherhood wasn't really your style.

"thanks, but... i dunno. it's just not for me."

"not even hearing tiny human feet running to you after a hard day of work and having the tiny little body belonging to said tiny little feet run into you, babbling about how they missed you?" peter asked, his puppy-eyes in full effect now.

but you weren't going to fall victim to his tricks. "no," you replied, a soft smile on your face. "that's your dream, not mine, babe. 'no kids' is the first clause of my mental relationship contract."

"but why not?"

"like i said. not my thing."

--

three days passed, and you had started on your assignment. it was now peter's turn to hang around your dorm and laugh at your assignment woes. you were at your desk, typing away; peter was sitting against your bed on the floor, messing around with his camera.

he cleared his throat. you decided to ignore him, thinking it was just something he needed to do. but then he did it again. you spun your chair to face him.

"yes, peter?" you asked with an air of exasperation.

"i was just thinking. about what you said the other day," he replied, innocent smile on his face- but you knew better. you knew what he was talking about- that damn kids conversation, but you decided to mess with him a little.

"what did i say the other day? was it the thing about deep-dish pizza? because i'm still absolutely serious about that, you know. or was it about naming my spider plant peter- is that a little too on the nose? because the name has stuck, i'm not changing it," you said, giving a leaf of peter the spider plant on your desk a soft stroke.

"ha ha," peter deadpanned. "first of all, i'm still deeply, truly offended about the deep-dish pizza, this is new york, we are not heathens. secondly, naming a plant after me is a little weird. thirdly, it's about the kids thing."

you raised your eyebrows and formed your mouth into a little 'o' in mock surprise. "that little old thing?" you asked, heavily faking nonchalance. "i do not remember it. i cannot read suddenly, i do not know."

"it was a verbal conversation, babe," peter laughed. "it's just- you don't wanna feel that fear and apprehension but also relief of sending your kid off to their first day of school? being so proud of them for making it this far, knowing that it was all you?"

you shrugged. "again, not really for me. i don't like feeling, peter, you know that."

"you literally sobbed over that talking dog movie the other day," peter pointed out, and you flapped a hand at him vaguely.

"i was on my period, hormones do that to you," you huffed. peter just looked at you with his eyebrows raised. you stared at him, before- "okay, fine, he was abandoned, that shit's sad! and right at the end of the movie? who does that! so i feel very strongly about dogs being abandoned. but other than that, i don't like feeling, having emotions is so last year."

peter laughed, so you turned back around and continued your essay.

--

it was another week before peter brought up the kid thing again. you had refused to even so much as think about children the whole time, because how dare peter try to out-debate you.

that was until you were having your fortnightly date night, involving a nice dinner, and a walk around central park, or watching a movie at the cinema, or just ordering pizza and making a blanket fort to watch disney movies in. on this particular night, you had gone to mcdonalds and ordered exclusively off their breakfast menu then left to have a faux-picnic at the local play park. it was almost seven in the evening, so all the kids had cleared off to go have dinner because it had gotten dark, so you two were sitting on a wooden bridge between the slide and mini rock-climbing wall.

peter was staring off to the side of the park, where a small group of teenagers were playing basketball on the one-hoop court. you stared at him.

"whatcha thinking about?" you asked, taking a bite of your mcmuffin.

"what if we have a kid and they grow up and want to go play basketball with their mates at seven in the evening and you're, like, worried they'll get mugged or make bad choices but also happy that they've got friends and do sports and trust you enough to ask?" peter blurted out. you stared at him, mid-chew.

you swallowed thickly. "if you wanna go play basketball with the kids so bad, go. i'll keep your food safe for you. by eating it."

"no, i'm serious!" peter looked at you. "like, that's a milestone! but what if the kid gets mugged or kidnapped or something and we have to pay a ransom or call the police about it?"

"you're spider-man, peter," you pointed out, now taking a sip of your milkshake. "you'd probably go and watch over the kid then rush home when they leave and try to be nonchalant about the fact that you were just watching them, and they'd see through you because you're a horrible liar or something."

"does this mean you want a-"

"no."

peter flashed his puppy-eyes at you, but you were too busy seeing if mcmuffins, hash browns and milkshakes tasted good when eaten at the same time to care.

--

"ok, y/n," peter announced as soon as he opened his dorm door for you, "i thought about why you don't want kids. most mothers are terrified of childbirth. so, and hear me out, we adopt."

you put your bag down on his floor and flopped on his bed. "nah."

"seriously?"

there was something in peter's tone that made you sit up and look at him, fully prepared to be sincere and honest. "pete, look. it's not childbirth that scares me- i mean, yeah, that much pain is terrifying and i never ever want to go through it, but... i just don't like kids. never have."

"why? how can you not like children, they're adorable."

you raised an eyebrow. "they're messy. snotty. gross- dirty in general. they can't wipe their own noses until they're like, three. that's disgusting, i'm not cleaning other humans' snot off their faces. you get no sleep, no breaks, and you know i'm not a people person- i can't really handle being around people 24/7. even you, pete, i'm sorry," you explained, and peter pursed his lips.

"you like your cousins," he said.

"i kind of have to like my cousins, pete. but i don't have to see them every hour of every day. i barely even see them once a month. i need breaks, and rest, and to be alone sometimes. and to be appreciated. and validated. i'm basically baby and need validation, like, all the time. kids don't do that." you stood up and walked to peter, holding his hands. "i know how much kids mean to you, and maybe i'll change my mind in the future, but right now, i'm scared."

"of what?" peter whispered.

"of growing up. of being responsible for another human life. of having to be an adult and having all these responsibilities. i love you and i trust you, but i don't like to think of the future too much. i live in the present, pete. live mas, forever is composed of nows, everything else is uncertain, carpe diem, the world is burning, hotel trivago, i don't know," you sighed, "just trust me on this, okay?"

peter nodded, giving you a quick kiss. "i love you so much, i'm sorry for bugging you."

"it's okay, love," you giggled, "it was getting kind of funny, actually. you did research on why people don't have kids. that's hilarious."

peter laughed, dipping his head down. you poked at his curls. "i guess i got a little carried away."

"live the extra life, peter. never let anyone tell you that there's such thing as getting carried away."

--

you were sitting in a class, barely awake, your laptop in front of you showing an empty word document. your silenced phone lit up, showing your lock screen of peter running into tape in the doorway of his room at aunt may's apartment. you unlocked it to see peter's newest text message.

peter: i did a thing

y/n: oh god what did you do

peter: i found a baby

y/n: i'm sorry? a whole ass baby?

y/n: you found an entire baby? lying around????

y/n: peter we talked about this you know i'm frightened of responsibility, that's your thing

peter left you on read, so you stared, mildly outraged, at your phone, totally ignoring your professor. ten minutes later, peter replied.

peter: sorry the baby peed on my backpack i had to put it in the wash

y/n: i'm SORRY??

peter: i know we can't have babies in the dorm but he was just so cute i couldn't help myself

y/n: peter did you just kidnap a random trash baby what is happening do i need to leave class

peter: nononono i've got it, he's a little rambunctious

y/n: big words for a dumbass

peter: i couldn't say no to those eyes, y/n

a picture popped up on your screen. of a puppy. a little spaniel puppy was looking into the camera with the biggest, brightest brown eyes you had ever seen on any living being. peter's camera was so close to the puppy's face that his snout was elongated, making him look even cuter.

y/n: !!!

y/n: those eyes!

peter: those eyes!!!

peter: !!!!!!!!!!

peter: can we keep him?

y/n: i think you need to take him to the vet first

peter: i found him by a dumpster while doing patrol, i don't think anyone owns him

y/n: wait ten minutes so i can get out of class and then we are taking him to the vet, peter benjamin 'dognapper' parker, this isn't about if someone owns him it's about if this dog has worms and you just infested your entire dorm with illegal trash puppy worm germs

peter: can we name him spider-pup i think he needs to be my sidekick

y/n: PETER YOU MAY HAVE JUST INTRODUCED FLEAS TO YOUR DORM BUILDING YOU ARE SO LUCKY I LOVE YOU

peter, of course, left you on read. god damn that boy.

#i had to google the american mcdonalds menu bc i wasnt sure what y'all have for breakfast or if y'all have frappes #yall dont have frappes thats so sad #this was so fun to write tho #i hate kids hence the premise of this fic #spiderparkerpeterman #my work #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x yn #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #spiderman #spiderman fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel au #marvel imagine #ask box: open #requests: open #i am currently advertising my requests feel free to send something in!

[thefightingbull]

A Boy Needs His Father

@elloryia for Server Sundays

Mick loved his baby. His baby was his everything. The 1978 black Pontiac Firebird with golden phoenix outlined on her hood had been his pride and joy since he acquired it several years ago. He’d painstakingly seen to Ember’s maintenance personally. No one was allowed to work on her but Mick. Not Lenny and especially not Lisa.

The last time he tried to teach her how to do a simple oil change, she’d spilled oil on her favorite jacket and kicked his baby. She’d lost her privileges with Ember from that day forward. Granted, she’d been young, but Mick was protective of anything that he actually bought instead of stole. Ember being his number one most prized possession.

He was cleaning his precious Ember on a warm Saturday. Lenny, Lisa and the pup were inside doing some spring cleaning and every now and then he looked up, grateful that outside chores had fallen to him. Lenny was a neat freak beyond any semblance of control. He’d spend hours making sure that house was sparkling.

He had the hose out, filling two large buckets of water when he heard some kind of commotion in the house. First there was Lisa’s shriek, a bit of laughter, and a sharp reprimand. The front door opened seconds later with Lenny gritting his teeth, walking Jason out by the back of his collar. Mick smirked as he saw the look of frustration on his omega’s face.

“Something wrong?” Mick asked.

“Oh yes, indeed,” Lenny scowled. “Jason has decided that he’d make messes rather than clean them up, so while Lisa and I clean, he’s with you.”

Mick eyed the pup who only looked a little sheepish. Really, Jason appeared to be holding back his laughter.

“What’d you do, Pup?” Mick asked once Lenny was back inside.

Jason sighed, the need to smile draining out of him once he thought he was in trouble. The boy shoved his hands in pockets, shoulders raised and eyes downcast. “It really wasn’t on purpose. I just I couldn’t help but laugh and then dad got all pissed off and sent me outside.”

Mick started adding some soap to one of the large buckets. “So, what happened?”

Lisa and Lenny would have probably scolded Jason for swearing and Mick knew he should have too, but it just wasn’t that big of a deal to him. Words only had power if you let them. Besides, Mick knew for a fact that all three of them had far worse mouths at Jason’s age. All three of them had sounded like a bunch of truckers or sailors.

“I was picking up all of my toys and putting them away like Dad told me to, but I kind of forgot about my water cups from painting last night. I was taking them to the kitchen when I bumped into Aunt Lisa. The dirty water from all four damned cups splashed her.”

Mick couldn’t but snicker. “Weren’t you told to put those in the sink last night?”

“Yes,” Jason pouted. “But then you started the movie and I forgot!”

“A movie you weren’t even supposed to be watching,” Mick reminded. “Could’ve given you nightmares.”

“Pfft, I grew up in Gotham. Aliens don’t scare me!” Jason insisted.

“Then why’d you end up in our bed?” Mick asked.

Jason ducked his head and didn’t answer. “Whatcha doin?”

If Mick were as immature as people often said, he’d have continued their prior argument, but he didn’t want to embarrass the boy. They were still trying to build a bond. It was a lot harder for him than it had been for Len. The pup clung to Lenny and Lisa, but Jason was still unsure of his place with Mick.

That was something he’d have to change.

“Washing Ember.”

“How come you name your car but not Dad’s or Lisa’s?”

Mick snorted. “Only cool cars get names. Aunt Lisa’s Malibu and Len’s Jetta aren’t at all cool.”

Jason giggled and the sound made something in Mick’s chest stir with pride. He loved the kid already. As far as he was concerned, Jason was as much his pup as if he’d sired Jason himself. But they did need to change how much time they spent together. Jason needed to learn more than what Leonard or Lisa could teach him.

Leonard was a man of course, but the fact of the matter was, Leonard was more the mother. He was stern, bossy, critical and nurturing. It was important that Jason get what he could from Leonard, no doubt about it, but Mick firmly believed that a boy needed his father just as much.

“But Dad says their cars are more reliable than Ember,”

Scowling, Mick waved him closer. “Get over here, runt.”

When Jason stepped forward, Mick handed him a soapy rag. “I’ve already cleaned the interior, but you’re gonna help me clean the exterior. Don’t worry about the windows, I’ll get those.”

“But I can’t reach most of the car and I know you won’t want me crawling her.”

“I don’t want you crawling all over Ember,” Mick agreed. “But that’s why I said you’d help me, not that you’d do it on your own. Get the tires first, alright?”

Jason nodded and Mick was relieved that he didn’t seem upset about the chore. He really didn’t want a snotty, irritable child around Ember. Giving his baby a good cleaning relaxed him. Fighting with Lisa or even Leonard in the past had proven detrimental to the goal.

Mick kept a close eye on the kid and was pleased at how hard the pup was working. He started at the top of the car, knowing they’d need to meet in the middle. Anytime he was around Jason though, he made sure to dribble a bit of his own rag onto the squirt. Jason would giggle and try to splash him back. It took them a little over an hour and a half before Ember was sparkling and drying in the cool spring air.

“You did a good job, Pup, thanks for helping,” Mick offered as he ruffled the boy’s curly black hair.

“Thanks, Pop!” Jason grinned up at him. “Where do we dump the water?”

“The yard or straight into the gutter if she was really messy.” Mick shrugged, not sure what it really mattered or why the kid looked so mischievous suddenly. “Why do you ask?”

“Seems a waste, that’s all,” Jason shrugged and then looked up at Mick with the sweetest, most innocent smile he’d ever seen.  

“What’d you have in mind, Pup?”

                                               }) }) }) }) }) }) })

Jason cried out sharp and shrill, as if he’d been wounded. He was clutching his knee and sitting in the center of the front yard. The desired effect was immediate. The front door slammed open with Lisa and Lenny running onto the front porch. As soon as the stepped off the final stair, Mick released the rope and the soapy, dirty water dumped on the Snart siblings in spectacular fashion.

Mick sprinted for his pup while the shock lasted, scooped Jason up and took off running into the backyard away from his sister-in-law and omega. Jason laughed the entire time, even when Lisa and Leonard grabbed and turned on the hose.

Mick would likely suffer the consequences with his mate for at least a weak, but to hear his pup’s laughter made it all worth it.

#ojtserversunday #coldwave #dc cw characters #alpha mick rory #omega leonard snart #Captain Cold #heatwave #not yet presented jason todd #i know i keep saying omega #but that hasn't been decided yet #he won't present for a long time #adopted #new life #father son bonding #pranks

[doc-pickles]

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p. 1)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

More Jolex on your timeline because y’all seemed to love what I posted before! Also I’ve posted this whole piece on AO3 as well so it might look familiar.  

this idea came to me in a fever dream and i am not sorry that y'all have to deal with it. 99% of this fic will be in "texting" format, so be prepared for that. 

Jo is regular Alex is italics

Saturday 11:04 PM

heeeeey is thiss doctor evil?

I gotta say ur phone sex namee needs sum weerk

u soud like a comic book village 

fuck

village

VILLAIN

Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number? 

i’m just a girl at thee bar!!!! 

Joe’s Bar?

noooooo

i’m at enerlad city bar

You didn’t answer my question. 

u asked a quesitoon?

whata was it?

i’m goos at takifjg tests 

How’d you get my number?

it qas in the bathrooom!!!

it said “for a good tiem txt dr evil spawne” 

so I did

I am ready to havee fun

You’re drunk, obviously, and I’m going to have to kill Cristina for putting my number up. 

ooooooh is thatt ur girleifnd?

hirlefiend 

girlfriend**

Wow you’re really gone. And hell no, she’s my roommate. One of them. 

ooooh how many do u hav

roomees not girlfriends 

Three. Two girls and a dude. 

intereeesting...

well it’s tome for fireball shoots

steph is yeeling at me 4 txting too much

goodbey doctor eviel apawn!!

Oh lord. Tell Steph you need water. Or an IV. 

I’ve got her. she’s throwing up on her shoes. thanks doctor. - steph

  Sunday 10:11 AM

You know you’re pretty funny, Bar Girl. 

jesus christ what fucking time is it?! 

10 AM

I’m assuming you have a massive hangover. 

hold on I can’t hear you over the sound of me vomiting

TMI as the kids say these days. 

what’re you a grandpa or something?? 

No I just don’t know how to use text lingo. Except WTF. I know that one very well. 

quick question

who the fuck are you?

Dr. Evil Spawn. You found my name graffitied in the bathroom of Emerald City Bar. 

holy shit

I thought I dreamed that... WHAT THE FUCK

Nope. I’m real. 

holy shit i’m so sorry

my texts were so annoying

Who hurt you? I mean you were shitfaced, I’m assuming someone broke your heart into tiny pieces. 

the opposite actually, I was at a bachelorette party

not mine, i’m so single it hurts

Ahhh that makes sense. So you got shitfaced in solidarity? 

exactly you get it

you seem like you’d be the DD at a bachelorette party

Well seeing as I’m a dude I don’t do Bachelorette parties. 

Well I did go to one, but that’s a different story.  

hmmm you seem like a very interesting man doctor evil spawn 

going to bachelorette parties, living with women who aren’t your girlfriend 

OMG ARE YOU DATING THE GUY YOU LIVE WITH?!

George? No absolutely not. And before you ask, my other girl roommate is gay. 

so you’re single?

i’m only asking so when you murder me the police have as much information as possible

Haha very funny. I would be a terrible murderer. 

you didn’t answer my question

Fine. Yes I’m single. 

i’ll note that in the “serial killer file” i’m building 

gotta go, I have to do work :/

Have fun, don’t die. 

  Sunday 8:38 PM

Arizona is trying to set me up on a blind date. 

who’s arizona?

My gay roommate. She wants me to meet this “bubbly blonde” she knows from her pilates class. 

ahhhh. why don’t you go?

Bubbly blonde is not my type. Sounds like she’ll spend the whole date talking about how much she loves dogs or her knitting hobby. 

Plus she does pilates, that tells me more than enough. 

you’re making some good points. I don’t pity you. 

You better not. How was work?

the longest day of my life

it was just paperwork, I don’t actually work on the weekends

What do you do?

hmmmm that’s exactly what a serial killer would say

i’m an elementary school teacher

Oh so you sing and dance and paint pictures all day?

what school did you go to?

were working on multiplication tables and basic photosynthesis tomorrow

Wow that sounds like a lot.

it’s may, ive got three weeks of school left so I have to cram all the crap we didn’t cover into these last few weeks 

Ahhh that sounds more accurate.

and what do you do? 

besides text strangers that you don’t know

I’m a pediatrician. 

oh so you make kids cry and wipe snotty noses all day? two can play at that game

Well we both have to deal with snotty noses sooo...

I GET IT!! Doctor Evil Spawn!! 

why evil spawn though? 

I wasn’t this nice when I started med school. My personality is an acquired taste. 

ha! that’s a funny joke. 

so if you’re a fancy schmancy doctor why do you live with three other people?

I’m only a resident, not making the big bucks yet. Everyone else is a doctor too. 

are they all pediatricians?

No. Arizona is too but Cristina is a cardiologist and George is a trauma specialist. 

interesting!! I too live with my coworkers. it’s not fun. 

the table is always covered in craft supplies. 

Well I can never read the grocery list on the fridge. Stupid doctors script...

oh that’s a classic. you’re pretty funny Dr. Evil Spawn

Thanks Bar Girl. 

I gotta go. monday tomorrow and you know how fourth graders can be. night!! 

Night . 

  Monday 9:47 AM

there’s not enough coffee in the world for monday mornings. 

  Monday 10:52 AM 

Sorry I was yelling at the interns. We have a decent coffee cart here. Keeps me alive. Are you texting in class?

no it was recess

now they’re at spanish class

i’m not totally irresponsible 

Oh good to know the future of America is in good hands. Teacher Princess is “not totally irresponsible”

teacher princess?

Well, Cinderella lost her shoe, you puked on yours. Same thing. 

wooooooooow

that was so uncalled for...

I thought it was funny. Gotta go set a broken arm. 

broken arm vs. adverbs... can we switch? have fun lol

  Monday 3:26 PM

I don’t even think I know what an adverb is. 

how did you become a doctor??

Don’t need to know adverbs to fix a couple broken bones and snuffy noses. 

oh darn I should’ve gone to school for seven more years then

Haha. How were the adverbs?

better than expected, grading papers while I wait for my roomies to be done

we carpool, saving the environment and shit

Okay Eco Warrior.

you text like a 60 year old man

you’re not a 60 year old man are you?

No I’m a 28 year old man though

28 a doctor and you’re single? your personality must be worse than you described 

I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to settle down. And I have no desire to. 

yet you have time to text a complete stranger? 

hmmmm interesting...

Ouch, that one hurt Princess. 

steph is making me socialize with the other teachers

if I don’t respond, they killed me or dragged me to an essential oil party

Hahahaha

  Monday 5:18 PM

Did you get roped into a pyramid scheme?

nooo but therew as wine

I should sotp drunk texting you so often 

It makes your presence that much more entertaining. And bearable. 

woah woah dude

i’m a gem 

I can tell. Elementary school teacher with a heart of gold. 

awwww your too sweet tome

It’s a Monday. Who the hell gets drunk on a Monday?

teachers

we deserve it

You’re a teacher and you’re single and still going to Bachelorette parties. You’re what, 23? 

i’m 25 and i’m doing greta thanks you very nuch 

cnat believe that i’m supplying my perosnal info to a serial killer

What makes you so sure that I’m a mass murderer? 

ur weird nickname and ur intimate knowledge of the himan body

Mmm yes well a good amount of women do find themselves screaming around me often. Or under me. On top of me...

omg are you sending me dirty jokes

you’re crazy 

What can I say. 

Gotta go, I’m on call tonight. Get to bed safe, Bar Princess. 

mmmkay thanks Doc

  Wednesday 11:29 AM

What do you think is worse: School lunch or hospital food?

hospital food, no doubt

thursday is mac and cheese day here... I could bathe in that stuff

We have Spaghetti Wednesday but that’s the only good thing here. 

mmm how depressing

the teachers do a pot luck once a month and that’s always good

the art teacher next door to me makes the BEST blueberry muffins. 

Lucky. All I get here is vending machine cookies. Anything interesting happening in the elementary world? 

a first grader got lice last week so naturally we all have it now

I had to chop off six inches of my hair

Holy crap. Lice can be vicious, be thankful you didn’t have to shave your head. 

it feels like I did, my hair hasn��t been above my shoulders since the backstreet boys were still touring

Wow. I’m glad to know you’re well cultured. 

of course I am

gotta go, kids are back from music class

Don’t be too hard on them, they deserve a break every once in awhile. 

  Thursday 3:06 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jenna you forgot your lunch pail. Have a good day!”

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Peters. I didn’t grade Henry’s test yet, I’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks bye!”

“Helloooo?”

“Steph I gotta grab my things, I’ll be there in a seco- oh shit. Hello?”

“Bar Princess?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn? I must’ve butt dialed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay I... I don’t mind the interruption. Are you leaving work?”

“Just about, we’re wrapping up the solar system and I have to bring home the diorama.”

“I was never good at the models, I prefer working with the real thing.”

“Oh ho, a man that works with his hands. I can appreciate that.”

“You know now we’re officially talking and we still don’t know each other’s names.”

“Well around here I’m Miss Wilson, but you can call me Jo.”

“Jo. Hmm I like chicks with dudes names. I’m Dr. Karev but you can call me Alex.”

“Well nice to kinda meet you Alex. I’ll talk to you soon, I gotta get out of here.”

“Talk to you later.”  

  Thursday 4:34 PM

I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.

how did I know you’d send me something along those lines

I’m predictable. I’m still calling you Bar Princess. 

as you wish doctor evil spawn

I get to assist on a surgery today. Tonsillectomy. 

like removing tonsils? that’s awesome

for you, not for the kid

Oh she’ll be fine, she gets ice cream and jello for a week.  

okay yeah I might be jealous of her now

id love to be off work for a week and have you waiting on me hand and foot

the ice cream is a nice bonus

You think that’s my job?

well you said you aren’t making the big bucks yet so.... yeah 

Keep dreaming. I’ll talk to you later, gotta scrub in. 

have fun!!!!

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fanfiction #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #INFJTT #nina writes

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

First Day of Kindergarten

Technically this is part 4 to this: 

Eddie was extremely insecure about the difference between him and Eddie’s relationship with the kids. Richie got to stay with them all day, every day, and while they cling to him during the night, sometimes they wanted Richie instead, and Eddie sat pushed against the edge of the couch, three pairs of feet pointed towards him.

Liam tended to go to Richie when he was hurt. He wailed “Daddy” from the instant he hit the ground, or the ball hit him or Gemma pinched him. He launched into Richie’s arms the second he was close enough and wailed and wailed until he lulled himself to sleep in Richie’s big arms, his teddy bear in his hands.

Gemma loved her daddy with all her heart. She was his little princess. And he gave in to nearly everything she asked. He was currently teaching her how to scramble eggs. They had the Nova and yoga thing going on for them, and they had just started the new American Girl Doll series which was a step up from the animated shows she usually watched.

Even though Ian was only two, he showed preferences for Richie’s cooking. Richie could lift him higher in the air and RIchie was the one practicing the alphabet with him all day. Richie took him to the park, potty trained him.

Eddie felt useless. As a husband and mostly as a father. He hadn’t even seen the point in taking off work to bring Liam to his first day of Kindergarten because he didn’t think either Richie nor Liam would care. He did however, and woke up early with Ian and made chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and lattes for him and Richie.

By the time they come downstairs, Liam is already dressed with his backpack on his back. He tries to climb up to stool but his backpack weighs him down,

“Liam, bud, take the backpack off.”

Liam looks up at him,

“Daddy said I could wear it,” he says.

Eddie looks up at Richie,

“I’ve been trying to get him to take it off for twenty minutes, I figured I’d save us the time.”

He lifts Liam onto the seat and Eddie bites his lip. He feels like he has no authority. Any time he tells the kids to do something, Richie’s already asked or done something different or better.

They need 6 kisses from Richie for Eddie’s 2, and Richie’s legs were stronger or Richie gave into Mac and cheese and chicken nuggets more, well Eddie preferred to not let the produce go to waste thank you very much.

Liam’s being a brat, Richie explains against Eddie’s lips as he leans over Eddie to dip a strawberry in whipped cream,

“Delicious, thanks baby.”

Gemma and Ian are at their grandparents so Liam could have his day, but that didn’t seem to stop Liam from acting out to get attention. First he didn’t want pancakes, he wanted a pop tart, then he didn’t want to put his shoes on. Eddie was being mean for not letting him wear more than one hair bow.

By the time they’re finally in the car, nearly late, Eddie is exhausted. He can tell Richie is too, however Richie is the one who’s sitting in the backseat with Liam, trying to calm him down. Eddie’s just the driver. He’s a failure as a father.

This is why Richie was the one who was a stay at home parent. He was the one who was good with jokes and the best at giving the kids their medicine, and he could watch hours of cartoons without suggesting a channel change even once.

Eddie didn’t know why he’d thought to go along. He wasn’t needed. He wasn’t wanted. It would be less painful to have received a picture with a text as he sat at his desk pretending to be busy.

If he doesn’t keep it together, he will cry right now on the way to the elementary school. He turns up the Disney mix tape playing in the car and sings along to Moana. He can do this.

Liam gets out of the car and bounds up to his teacher excitedly. They’ve met her three times. She’s a middle aged black woman named Mrs.Lahey and his classroom has a guinea pig named Linus. Liam was already obsessed with Mrs.Lahey, and she came up at their household often enough.

Neither man is surprised when Liam runs up to her, cutting the entire line of children and parents to give her a hug. She hugs him of course, and Eddie races over to grab him. Appearances are important, he hears his mother in his head. Mrs.Lahey explains that he has to wait his turn and a few other things he can’t hear, and when he turns to come back to Eddie, his eyes are full of tears.

Eddie steps back toward Richie, almost in fear, but mostly resentment because his son is going to someone else, not him. He’s not even looking at Liam, he’s holding tears back and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and he nearly falls over when Liam bangs into his shins. Eddie quickly looks down, and Liam’s sobbing, arms wrapped around his legs,

“Papa!” he wails.

Eddie just stares until Richie nudges him. Eddie scoops Liam up, cradling his little body as Liam buries his face into Eddie’s neck.

“What’s wrong my little lion?”

Liam cries harder and Eddie’s body slows into its bounce and rock that soothes the kids. He doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed about the way his hips are swaying. Eddie’s hand massages his back and his fists wrap in Eddie’s preciously pristine white shirt.

“Liam bear, what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t say you were leaving!”

“Leaving?”

“I have to stay here by myself?!” Liam demands.

Eddie pulls back to look at Liam, his face is red and snotty and Eddie wipes his face on his sleeve because it’s his son, and it’s okay to be dirty sometimes.

“Yeah bud. I have to work.”

“But I can do school with daddy! Daddy please? I’ll be good!”

He’s looking at Richie now but still clinging to Eddie.

“We’ve talked about this buddy. You’re going to go to school like Gemma. Remember when Gemma started going to school?”

“I’m not ready! I’m not ready! Papa don’t make me go.”

“Honey, you have to,” Eddie rocks him but he doesn’t seem to be calming down and he looks at Richie frantically.

Richie wraps his arm around Eddie and pulls him close to whisper in his ear,

“We’re going to leave him and he’s going to cry but we have to just walk away.”

“Richie,” Eddie mumbles, near tears himself.

“We’ve gotta babe. He’ll be okay.”

So Eddie kisses Liam’s forehead and then his two cheeks,

“Alright Liam, it’ll be fun, I promise. You’re going to make new friends and have fun with Mrs.Lahey,” says Richie.

“No papa! Daddy! Don’t leave me!” He cries when Eddie releases him.

It takes Eddie prying his hands from around his neck to get him to let go. He falls on the floor crying but Mrs.Lahey shoos them away. Richie helps Eddie up and wraps an arm around him, leading him to the front door. Eddie is crying before they reach the doors. Richie gets him to the car where he nearly collapses in the passenger seat. He’s sobbing now.

“Love, you’ve gotta calm down. He’ll be okay.”

Eddie shakes his head,

“Maybe it’s too soon. You can keep him at home another year.”

Richie laughs,

“Babe I cannot count above ten, you know this.”

Eddie glares and Richie rubs his arm,  

“Babe, it’ll be okay. Just like Gemma. He’ll love it by the end of the day, I promise.”

Eddie sniffles,

“I don’t think I can go to work today.”

Richie nods and smiles,

“Okay baby, let’s just veg out today huh?”

“Your parents will be okay with watching Ian?”

“Are you kidding? They’ll love it. Let’s go home babe.”

Eddie wipes his eyes,

“Okay.”

#my writing #reddie #reddie fan fiction #Richie Tozier #Eddie kaspbrak #it ch 2 #it 2017 #it 2019