#Sunday Night Speedwrites

[arrowflier]

Prompt request? Mickey and Ian have a newborn baby girl and Franny is upset about it. Everyone thinks its because shes not the only little girl in the family now. But Franny shocks everyone when she tearfully admits that "She wanted Uncle Mickey to be HER Daddy."

So this is...less than a year old at least, which is more than I can say for the rest of my inbox. And chosen by an RNG to be my first foray back into speedwrites!

Father Figure--AKA: 5 Times Franny Hated Her New Cousin (+1 Time She Didn’t (also on AO3)

1.  It starts at the hospital.  The lights are bright, the room is cold, and a gown-clad Debbie is placing a tiny pink bundle into Ian’s waiting arms.

“You did it,” Ian breathes, gathering it close to his chest.  “You did it, Debs, she’s perfect.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mickey challenges.  “She’s got Milkovich in her, after all.”

But he smiles when Ian turns toward him, and his eyes are wet and shining.

“Do you want to hold our daughter?” Ian asks, and Mickey is already reaching out.  He sits on the edge of the bed with the baby in his arms, and sighs.

Franny sits beside him, her short legs dangling.  She leans against his side, but his arms are occupied.

“That’s your cousin, Franny,” Debbie says.  Franny can feel her mom’s feet twitch under the covers.  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Franny considers the blob in her Uncle’s lap.  It’s red and wrinkled and ugly, and he’s looking at it like it’s the best thing in the world.

“It looks like a potato,” she blurts.  Jumps off the bed before her mom can kick her.

“I don’t like potatoes.”

2.  It’s Friday afternoon, and Franny ran right to her room after school.  She’s halfway through packing her overnight bag—pajamas, check, stuffed racecar from Uncle Mickey, check—when her mom catches up.

“Franny.”  It’s a sigh, it’s always a sigh these days.  Like she was named with the last bit of patience someone had. 

“What are you doing?”

Franny looks at her bag.  Looks at the blanket in her hand.  

“Getting ready.”

“For what?”

“For movie night.”

“Fran, hon.”  Her mom pushes off the doorframe, steps into the room.  “You’re not going to your Uncles this week.”

“Yuhuh,” Franny argues.  “We’re watching Cars.”

They’d made the plans weeks ago.  She’d marked the days off on her silly princess calendar with the stickers Uncle Ian had given her.

“Not this week you’re not,” her mom says.  “They’re busy with the baby.”

Franny thinks about this.  Shrugs.

“She can come I guess.”

Her mom laughs.

“Fran, that’s not how it works.  A baby can’t—“

Franny doesn’t hear the rest.  She’s already halfway down the stairs, blanket discarded on the floor.

3.  It’s eight o’clock in the morning, and Franny has never been this anxious for anything in her life.  The table is still littered with sticky breakfast dishes, and her socked feet are wet and cold as the snow seeps through them.

“Where’s Uncle Mickey?” she asks from the open door, shivering in the December air.

“What do you mean?”  The question comes from behind her, warm at her back.  “He’s at home.”  

“No he’s not,” Franny says.  “They’re not here yet.”

“What…oh,no.”  

Footsteps behind her.  The door taken from her grip.  Hands on her sides, picking her up—a grunt with the effort—and she’s set back down on the tile inside.

“He’s at his own house, Fran.”  Her mother turns her around, looks in her eyes.  “With Ian and the baby.”

“But they’re always here for presents,” Franny whispers.

“They’ll be over later for dinner with everyone else,” her mom answers, and that isn’t good enough.  They’re not supposed to be everybody else.   

4. Franny’s eyes are still smarting from the stage lights when she stumbles out of the dressing room and into her mom’s arms.

“Franny!”  She’s picked up and whirled around, set back on unsteady feet.  “You were great, honey, a real prima ballerina!”

But Franny isn’t listening.  She’s looking for someone else, someone who promised he would be there.

“Did he miss it?”

Her mom stops talking.  

“Who?” she asks, and Franny scowls.

“Uncle Mickey.  Did he miss it?”

“Oh.”  Her mom laughs.  “No, he was here.  He watched the whole thing.”

“Then where is he?”

He was supposed to bring her flowers.  The good ones, their favorites.  And then he was going to take her out for ice cream, and let her ride in the front of the car with him, and—

“He had to run,” her mom says.  “Your Uncle Ian called, the baby had a fever, and—“

Franny started walking.

5.   “Why is she here?” 

It’s the first thing Franny says when she opens the door to her two Uncles and the baby-pink monstrosity of her cousin’s stroller.

“Uh.”  Mickey answers first, exchanging a look with Ian and rubbing a hand over his chin.  “She’s a little young to be home alone, don’t ya think?”  

It’s light, like a joke.  She doesn’t think it’s funny.

“But why is she here?” Franny emphasizes.  “With you?”  

He looks confused, now.

“Because I’m her dad?” he says.  “Franny, what—“  

“You’re supposed to be my dad!”

The silence after her outburst is deafening.

“You…”  

Her eyes are closed.  She doesn’t open them.  She doesn’t even bother to slam the door when she turns tail and runs straight to her room.

He finds her there a few minutes later.  Too long.  Not long enough.  He sits next to her bed with a groan as his knees fold, and leans his head back against the mattress.

He doesn’t say anything.  She doesn’t either.  But her sniffles dry up, and he pats her ankle where it hangs over the edge of the bed, and he stays.

“I know you’re not my dad,” Franny admits.  The words are raw in her already sore throat.  

“No,” Mickey agrees.  “I’m better.”

It earns him a ragged little giggle, almost without Franny’s own permission.

“You know,” he starts once she’s calmed down again, “you’re kinda the reason we have her.”  

And Franny doesn’t really like that.

“Why?” she asks, and thinks she knows the answer.  

“Never thought I’d be much of a dad,” Mickey answers.  “But hanging out with you…you made me realize I could.”

Oh.  That wasn’t what she was expecting.

“I did?”

“Hell yeah, kid.”  Mickey leans his head back, looking at her upside down from his place on the floor.  “You’re a badass, and for some reason you seem to like, me, so…”

“You’re my favorite Uncle,” Franny tells him, and watches him grin.

“And you’re my favorite Franny.”

+1.  The others are all there when they come back downstairs.  Mom and Uncle Ian are exchanging weird looks, Uncle Lip is pretending to drink, and Tami and Uncle Carl are on the floor playing with Fred and the baby.

They all avert their gazes when Uncle Mickey, standing next to her, glares at them.

“You wanna come hang with me and Ian, kid?” Mickey asks her.

And she does.  She really does.  But she wants to do something else first.

“I want to play,” she says instead, and plops right down on the carpet next to the younger kids.

She knows the adults are all watching.  She doesn’t really care.  The only eyes she’s concerned with are Uncle Mickey’s, and the pale blue orbs on the face in front of her.

“That’s not how you do it,” she says, and takes away the block the baby is slobbering all over.  

“Franny, why don’t you—“

She ignores her mom, and puts one block on top of another.

“You do it like this,” she says sternly, and then kicks the tower down.

The baby shrieks with laughter.  

“Let them play,” Mickey says in the background.  “My girl knows what she’s doing.”

Next time, Franny helps the baby knock the tower down.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Daily Speedwrite Pairings: Day 19

“Get It yourself!” -HinaNoya

This is probably the cutest one I’ve written so far.

It’s really wordy?? Like I went hella far with imagery, sorry.

It was close to coach Ukai’s birthday, so the team was having a surprise potluck for him. Shoyo and Yuu teamed up on making a dish, given they are both terrible cooks. Luckily, Asahi decided to oversee their messattempt. The Karasuno members were spending their Sunday night in the Hinata family kitchen.

“Noya-San, can you grab me the cookbook?” Hinata requested as he fiddled with his hair. His voice was a little distorted from his teeth being locked together, attempting to hold the hair tie Asahi had let him borrow.

“Sure thing! Where at?” Noya shot him a beaming smile.

“Third cabinet... to the left... of the sink!” Ta-da! He did it! Shoyo put his hair into a very tiny, yet very messy, ponytail. He never puts his hair up, but Daichi gave him a lecture about, ‘hair in the food’. So, to not invoke the wrath of his captain, he kept his tousled orange hair up, “Oh! You’ll need a stool though.”

Nishinoya found this to be the perfect opportunity to stir up(HAHA PUNS) some trouble. Yes, Yuu Nishinoya had a reputation for being a troublemaker, but he did not need Asahi to babysit him. So, to show rebellion, he was going to give his caretaker an extremely difficult time.

“Is that so? Because I’m short, right?”

“Wh-No! I-I mean!” Crap. That was the exact reason, “I- well- I need a stool to reach and-“

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo.” Noya barked as he inched toward the first year, “You can get it yourself!”

“W-Wait! Noya-San!” Hinata whined as he slowly backed up, hands up in defense, “I didn’t-“

The second year rolled his eyes and shot Shoyo a playful wink. This signified that he wasn’t actually pissed, but he was still going to play around.

“You did! And now? You’re gonna have to pay!” The libero rose his voice a little, attempting to gain Asahi’s attention.

“Nishinoya! Behave!” Asahi hissed from his position on the living room couch, attention shifting from his phone to the duo.

“Relax, Ace. I’m just making things... a little interesting.” The second year responded menacingly, shortly before tackling Hinata to the couch.

“GYAH! Noya-San!” Shoyo yelped, taken aback by the sudden smack to the couch, “Wh- Hey!”

The underclassmen duo wrestled with each other, causing both to giggle furiously.

“Take it back!” Nishinoya cried as a grin plastered his face.

“Never! You- you’re-“ Hinata squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, “You’re short! Just like me!”

“That’s it!” The libero took advantage of the pinned boy beneath him and snaked his hands under the tangerine boy’s shirt, gently skittering his fingers on the middle blocker’s stomach.

“WAAAH!! Nohohohoya-Sahahahan! Nohohoho!”

“Noya-San! Yes!” The second year replied in a mocking tone, pinching around the trapped boy’s belly button.

“HEHEHEY! NOHOHOHO!” Shoyo whined as he tried to push his upperclassman’s hands away. Instead, distracted from laughing, he could only grip the hand that was destroying an unknown sweet spot.

“Aww! You must want me to stay here!” Nishinoya cooed as he dipped his finger into the small hollow.

Poor Hinata was not expecting it to tickle that badly, “NAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!”

“Sorry! Us short people wait for no one!”

“Geez, Noya. You sure are a tease.” Asahi stated calmly, focusing on the scene unfolding as he recorded it.

“Oh? A crowd? Well gee, I guess we should put on a show, eh Shoyo?”

The first year was too busy losing himself in uncontrollable laughter. Noya-San was so mean!

Speaking of mean...

“Hey, Shoyo, I think I know what we can make!” The libero beamed, “Raspberry torte!” And with that, he blew multiple raspberries into Hinata’s side, all while continuing to move the antagonizing finger in his belly button.

“NOHOHONONONO! NOHOHOHOT RAHAHAHSPBEHEHEHERRIHIHIHIES!”

“Oh yes, Rasberries!”

Raspberry after raspberry, wiggle after wiggle of Noya’s finger, poor Shoyo thought he would die. The icing on the cake? Nishinoya sneaking a hand up to prod at Hinata’s lower ribcage.

“NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!” Hinata screamed as his worst spot was being targeted, “AHAHASAHAHAIHIHIHI! MAHAHAHAKE- STAHAHAHAP! QUHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIT!”

“Okay. Okay. You’ve had your fun.” Asahi hoisted Nishinoya off of poor Shoyo, leaving the ginger to gasp for air.

“Awwww. But-“

“No buts. He said to stop, we have to respect that.” Asahi’s tone was firm, almost paternal.

“No- Ace you don’t understand! He’s g- NOHOHOHOHO!”

Hinata has regained his stamina almost instantly, and latched onto Nishinoya’s torso, massaging his thumbs into the back of his ribs.

“Not so fun! Is it?” Hinata pondered with an evil grin.

“SHOHOHOHOHYOHOHOHO! THEHEHE TIHIHIHIHIME!”

The first year cocked his head like a lost puppy. What did he mean by time? Oh! The time! It was only a few hours from the potluck! He instantly unlatched and scrambled to the kitchen.

“One word about me getting taken down like that to the team? You’re next, Asahi.” There was pure venom in Nishinoya’s tone. Though, it was all in good fun.

“Noya-San! Let’s make this!” Hinata had stars in his eyes as he turned the cookbook around, revealing the recipe he chose.

“Yeah! Cool!” the libero chimed in response, bounding up to the kitchen himself, “Says we’ll need... strawberries, almonds, aaaand açaí?”

“Yeah?” Asahi shortly after appeared in the kitchen.

The two underclassmen chuckled furiously at the Ace’s sudden reply.

“Noooo! Not Asahi, Açaí!” Hinata said as he pointed to the word in the cookbook.

“You’re funny, Ace.” Noya cooed, “Since you’re up here though, want to help cut some stuff up?”

The third year sighed and picked up a large knife, a cutting board and a bowlful of strawberries. “The things I do for you morons.”

I remembered my taglist this time: @littlebbyleesfw @cupcake-spice13

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

[arrowflier]

Combo Sunday Speedwrite and late entry for @galladrabbles because I stared at what I was trying to write for two hours and then decided to cheat instead.

Hold

Mickey hadn’t had much to hold on to in the joint. Just memories, soft words, and a false promise. A dream he’d had of sun and sand that he has since refused to let go.

He never really thought he’d get it, that kind of happy ending. And he was right.

There’s no sun that night by the border. Only wet grass under his back, and Ian’s face hiding the stars. He lifts Mickey’s head with a hand softer than the finest sand, kisses him without words. His lips themselves are a promise.

Mickey wishes he couldn’t taste the lie.

[arrowflier]

I've been incredibly unproductive creatively for the last while, and I'm looking to get back into things. So since I'm mentally blocked on everything else...speedwrites are coming back on a limited schedule!

Every Sunday night, I'll be picking a prompt from my inbox. I have a bunch in there from ages past, but I'm posting this now because new options are also welcome! Just toss it in an ask and don't get your hopes too high😂

Edit to add: while I mostly write shameless I'm open to many other things if requested.