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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

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The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning.

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing.

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job, ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office.

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention.

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe.

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play.

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square.

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code.

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles.

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms.

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob.

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads.

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

“He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.”

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him.

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor.

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

Note

Neeeeeeemoooooo! Im back! Eeeek🙌❤🔥🔥😳🌈🌌

Hehehe so i had another glance at your list hehehe! And could i pretty please with condensed milk ontop request 9. T9 codes - 143 = 521 = 459 (not that i have a single clue what this means pffft)❤❤🔥🔥🌟🌸 with L from death note😳😳😳🥺🥺🥺 (other fandoms were open right? RIGHT?) 😅😅😅😅😱😱😨

Sending ya alllll the gooood vibes neeeeemoooo! Thanks for letting me spam to take my mind off my meeting in a few hours! //is freaking out 🤣🤣🌸🌟🔥❤ //slides over some vla! Hope ya have the best day!❤🔥🌸 whoop whoooop❤🌈

Prompt 9 is for L! Happy two's Zeta! I kept your request for last on purpose just for this day!

Disclaimer: I'm slowly working through my inbox from the last time I had requests open.

Note: And with this I have emptied out my inbox. I'm still not planning on opening it for requests any time soon, but feel free to hit me up for a chat!

Fandom: Death Note

Character: L - Lawliet

Warning: Codes - can you figure out what they mean?

Word count: -1k.

Masterlist

That L had a peculiar way of talking was known. His brain moved too fast for his lips to form words as he would already be midway through an explanation while others were still progressing the background of the conversation. When he started that day with; “24 hours!” you hadn’t thought much more of it than just another lapse in which L was L and his brain had reached a conclusion before he could ask the question.

“Yes, like a full day,” you had told the male in a bemused tone, pouring in his tea and adding in the sugars just as he liked. Getting the infamous detective, and notorious work-a-holic to catch a break was a feat, trying to understand the man felt like a code even the infamous Sherlock wasn’t about to crack.

“Yes, like a full day, and seven days straight,” L mumbled, falling into silence once more when he chewed on the top of his thumb, the nail there already destroyed and you wondered what particular hard case he was sitting on that had the man so anxious.

“A full day and everything comes in pairs,” he continued, wide eyes turning towards you, as if only taking you in for the first time that day. “Always in pairs,” L repeated and you wondered if the case was like Bonnie and Clyde, performed by an elusive duo that managed to elude L. It was hard to say with the way he stared at you, unblinkingly as you could see the cogs in his brain whirring at full speed, unable to utter anything dumbed down enough for the common mass to understand.

“Four, five and nine,” you could hear the male say later, and you wondered if he was doing basic maths or if it was just a string of numbers, “eight, three, one,” he would follow it up, clicking his tongue as he shook his head.

“Everything comes in pairs, two’s,” he repeated the statement once more, before absentmindedly taking the cake that you offered him while he continued to zone out in deep concentration.

This wasn’t going to do, you found. L had been stuck in the same post for such a while now, even Watari was starting to get worried. Approaching you tapped him on the shoulder, once, twice, three times…

“One, four, three, two!” he exclaimed, and then turned to you, wide eyes set a little wider and a bit crazed as you in turn stared at him in a daze, not quite understanding the exclamation.

Or perhaps you did, slowly piecing together the peculiar speech and his behaviour in overall. The numbers did all hold one thing in common after all. As outdated as they may have been, or obscure they were at the current.

“24 hours, seven days a week,” L repeated, a smile spreading across his features in that innocent childlike way that made you forget that you were dealing with a genius of the deranged sort. What he had meant with that you didn’t quite figure, but you did understand one thing;

“Yours; 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” you repeated, to which L smiled a little wider, glad to be understood.

459 - The T9 (numberpad) code for ILY 831 - Eight letters three words 143 - I Love You 24 hours a day, seven days a week - From 'Night in the Woods'

#death note #death note l #death note x reader #l lawliet #l lawliet x reader

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benevolentbirdgal · 3 years

Text

Writeblr Introduction Post: benevolentbirdgal

Shalom y’all! I’ve seen several of these as of late and thought it probably my turn!

Me: You can call me Tzipporah or Birdie. I am a 20-something woman who likes to write stuff. She/her. SFW, but probably would be rated as PG-13. Here there be swearing.

What You’ll Find On My Blog: Writing advice, OC questions (mine and reblogged), prompts (mine and reblogged), my four WIPs, occasionally other people’s WIPs, Jewish stuff, random tumblr stuff.

My Genres: Humor, Horror, Sci-Fi, YA, short story.

Writeblr Stuff

Asks: Very open! Feel free to ask about writing stuff, my WIPS, writing advice (although I’m no more qualified than the next internet rando), or just to be chatty!

Ask Games: If I reblog or post it, you can ask me for the ask game.

Community: I am not currently in any writeblr groups or group chats or exchanges on Tumblr, but I am open to it!

Contacting Me: Inbox is open!

Fanworks/read-alongs/whatever: I would be/am immensely flattered by anyone wanting to make fanart or do readings of stuff I write. I realize I can’t enforce this, but please tag or link the original work if you want to make something with my stuff.

Tag Games: Open to tag games. No promises I’ll participate in every one I get tagged in, but feel free to tag me.

Tagging: If you want to be tagged for WIP updates, let me know. If you need me to tag for cw/tw stuff, let me know.

My current (active) WIPS (4):

God of Cheese:

Irreverent story about hubris, found family, bureaucracy, and the love of cheese.

Set in ancient land with heno-polytheistic pantheon of gods doing their thing. Not based around any particular pantheon past or present.

The big/important gods go to a conference (to meet with gods from other lands) and leave the God of Cheese, Colby, in charge. He's a competent dude, but like a lower-management type, not a "run the land" type. There's all sorts of minor gods and gods-adjacent critters and special humanish types that are suddenly his problem

Shenanigans ensue.

Most of the gods have names that are dumb puns or jokes in languages I speak.

Some stuff written, still workshopping and worldbuilding.

Unnamed Jewish YA Vampire Hunter Story/Fantasy:

Hannah (Chava) is 14 and weird things started happening after her bat mitzvah last year. It comes to a head when she learns she’s from a Jewish family of alukah & sheyd (vampire and demon) hunters, although her branch is usually focused on alukot.

Very much an exploration of Jewish identity in the U.S. in the 2000s/2010s.

Jewish ideas about folklore, alukot (vampires), sheydim (demons), and the spooky.

Antisemitism is discussed, portrayed, and processed.

Several parts written, need to edit and find requisite chutzpah to post.

Unnamed Sci-Fi dramedy in spaaaaaaaaaaaace:

Kind of episodic. Takes place in the near-ish future, timeline intentionally unclear. Probably a 3 or 4 out of 6 on TV trope’s Sci-Fi Hardness scale.

The Earth empire, which is kind of sort of an extension of the successor to the U.N., has what is basically starfleet managing its extensive holdings around the universe.

The story centers around three main characters in their 20s navigating employment and space.

Includes Jewish, queer, and disability representation. Talks about class/regional values conflict through sci-fi lens.

You can learn more about this one here, here, and here.

Several parts written, need to edit to post.

How To Survive Shopping

Ruleshorror stuff I write and post on reddit. I usually repost here as well, but the most complete version lives on my reddit index.

Basically, spooky one-off lists about different kinds of shopping that conceivably take place in the same universe as one another.

Currently 20-something parts.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Note

I think I drank too much - with ma boi John Tracy, Eye in the Sky?

(I hope you wrestle uni into submssion)

A Bad First Impression

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, John, Penelope

Brain is in default Scott mode (when is it not?), so more Scott than John, but it is John saying the line, so that counts, right? Haven’t proof read this or anything, but alcohol+John gave me one idea straight away, so here we go!

4am so the other prompt currently sitting in my inbox will have to wait until post-sleep (and probably post-more uni work), but feel free to send more in!

(Uni is... not going down without a fight but I have got my lecturers on my side so it’s not quite as terrifying as it was the other day. Still got a heck of a lot of work to do, but hopefully it’s survivable now.)

Lightheaded/Fainting Prompts (I know it says ‘starters’ but I figure as long as the line’s in there somewhere it counts). Or honestly any other prompt games I’ve reblogged are fine, too, just make sure to tell me which one it’s from!)

Scott glowered down at his phone, where his message was stubbornly remaining as sent. Ideally, he wanted a reply, but it had been five minutes and it still wasn’t even showing as read.

People were sending him disapproving looks, no doubt seeing a stranger with a backpack lurking outside a door and drawing their own conclusions the longer he remained slouched against the wall. Apparently even in England, people didn’t take too kindly to loitering, and Scott would appreciate it if his brother would hurry up and let him in.

Maybe for some people, five minutes was too soon to be getting cranky, let alone worried, and any of his other brothers, in any other situation, Scott wouldn’t expect an instantaneous reply, but it was John, at midnight. He should be wired into whatever technology he was playing and receiving messages instantly - especially as Scott should be expected.

The journey had been a long one, jet lag was hammering hard, and he just wanted to greet his brother, catch up for a bit, and then crash out on the couch. It had been too long since he’d last seen him - why John had decided to go to college in England, Scott had no idea.

Seven minutes, and still no answer. No little icon assuring him John had even seen it, even though John had known exactly what flight he was on and had been the one to tell Scott how long the taxi would take from the airport. Scott had fully expected his younger brother to open the door just as the taxi pulled to a halt.

The fact that he was still standing outside, seven minutes later - and midnight in Oxford was not warm - had Scott one part annoyed to three parts worried.

The looks were getting dirtier. He was surprised no-one had confronted him yet, and hoped that didn’t mean they’d decided against talking and skipped straight to calling the police.

“C’mon, John,” he muttered. “What’s taking you so long?”

Looking up from his phone again - nine minutes - he caught sight of a pair staggering their way in his direction. One was ginger, and he straightened, more than a little disbelieving when his younger brother staggered right past him without looking and pawed at the door ineffectually.

“Honestly, John,” the girl he was with - petite, blond, and in high heels that made Scott’s feet ache just to look at (his younger brothers didn’t know about his time in high heels and it was staying that way) - sighed, although the giggle that followed it ruined whatever gravitas she was trying to exude.

There were many things wrong with the sight, from John being not inside, to John looking like he’d been at a nightclub, to John apparently bringing a girl home, but the thoughts all temporarily abandoned his head as John swayed just a little bit more.

“I think I drank too much,” his brother commented, in that sort of detached fashion Scott recognised from his own nightclub experiences, and ignoring the girl, he lunged forward just in time to catch John as he crumpled.

This wasn’t the greeting he’d been expecting.

Nor was the stiletto kick to his chest, winding him and almost making him drop his brother. It was fortunate his first instinct was always to hold on tighter, otherwise John would probably have just gained a concussion to go with the hell of a hangover he was going to be facing in a few hours.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl demanded, drawing herself up to her full height - and even in those dagger stilettos, still failing to reach Scott’s chin. “Unhand him at once, or I’ll call the police.”

Scott was tired, grumpy, and had no patience for irritating girls trying to get in with his not interested younger brother. He straightened, hefting John into his arms - he might be tall, but John had never been a challenge to lift on the rare occasion Scott had carried him - and made a show of looking down at the small female.

“And I suppose you were planning on carrying him inside?” he challenged, shifting John’s weight until he could slip two fingers into his pocket and extract his door key.

John always kept his key in the same pocket. Scott was glad that hadn’t changed.

“And now you’re trespassing,” she huffed as he fumbled the door open. “No-one invited you in. Leave, before I call the police.”

“Actually, I was invited,” Scott snapped, stepping through the door. “You, on the other hand, are not welcome. Go home.”

He kicked the door shut with his heel, knowing Grandma - and probably John, in the morning - would be furious with him for leaving her outside by herself at midnight, but not finding it in himself to care right then.

The apartment wasn’t large, just a kitchen with a sofa and a door that Scott determined had to lead to the bedroom and en suite, which meant he heard the front door open again as he shouldered his way into the bedroom.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded. Scott ignored her as he settled his brother on the bed - planets and stars embellishing the otherwise plain navy comforter. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Scott pulled his brother’s sneakers off and set them down on the floor, making a mental note to find where John kept his shoes and put them away properly before his occasionally-clumsy brother tripped over them later.

“Why are you in his apartment?” he asked, kicking off his own shoes and letting his backpack fall onto the floor before pulling himself up onto the bed. John could sleep in his clothes just fine, but that coat and jumper had to come off before he overheated.

“Are you stripping him?” she shrieked. “That’s it; I’m calling the police.”

...Okay, Scott could see why it might look bad if she didn’t know who he was.

“Look, miss,” he started.

“Your ladyship,” she interrupted.

“Uh, what?”

“It’s your ladyship,” she said. “Not miss. I am Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, and I insist you tell me who you are and why you’re manhandling my friend.”

“John has friends?” John did intellectual peers, but he’d never cared for friends, mostly because he found it tiring when people couldn’t keep up with him - or tried to force him into socialising, which Scott was starting to suspect this girl, Lady, whatever, had done tonight. His friends were computers.

“Of course he does, you pervert,” she snapped back. “Now answer my questions, and if I don’t like the answers, I’m calling the police.”

“Perv-” Scott interrupted himself with a sigh. “I take it John didn’t bother to tell you I was coming to visit for the week?”

“Your name,” she insisted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Scott Tracy. I’m his brother, so if you could stop the ridiculous accusations that would be great, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look related.”

Oh, for-

“You should see the rest of them.” John shifted against his chest in a quickly-aborted attempt to sit up. Scott tightened his grip. “Scott, Lady P. You won’t get rid of her. Trust me. Lady P., my big brother, Scott. You won’t get rid of him. Trust me.”

“John-”

“So stop arguing and let me sleep. My head kills. Penny, why did you let me drink so much?”

“I was curious what you’d be like drunk,” she answered, completely unapologetic. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came to get you earlier?”

“You’d have accused me of lying to get out of going,” John muttered. “Sorry, Scott. Thought I’d be back before you turned up. Wasn’t expecting to drink so much...” He trailed off with a yawn, and Scott helped him lie back down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said - not strictly true, but as far as reunions went it was already terrible. He had no intentions of worsening it with an argument. “Get some sleep. I’ll find you something for the hangover in the morning.”

John was asleep again before he’d finished talking, and with a fond smile, Scott slipped off the bed and pulled the covers loosely over him.

Then, he eyed the blonde in front of him. John didn’t like socialising, and yet she’d dragged him out regardless - and apparently never took no for an answer.

Scott did not like the implications of that.

“We need to talk,” he said, quietly enough not to wake John, but seriously nonetheless. Blue eyes flicked from him to John and then back again.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose we do.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #thunderfluff #drabbles #such-a-random-rambler #a bad first impression

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tessiete · 4 years

Note

hi ive read like all your stuff about korkie is a kenobi in the span of about three days and i'm so EMOTIONAL?? it makes such narrative sense - star wars is a story about fathers and sons and what happens when mothers are lost and in eternal spring, when obi wan doesn't reject korkie, and korkie doesn't reject obi wan, and they love each other and accept each other despite the gaping hole that satine left in their relationship it like heals and breaks that cycle of little blonde boys being 1/

of little blonde boys being left in the desert without their mothers and with father figures who don't quite accept the responsibility of being a father to all of their detriments! it lets padme live, and it lets luke escape, and it lets everyone who wants to heal and work towards a better future. anyway, this is some Good Fucking Food and thank u for writing it. if you're still open to prompts i would really like to see some kryze-kenobi family bonding. just the three of them happy and together

AH! This has been sitting so beautifully, and lovingly in my inbox for ages now, and I do apologise, but I just - I saw fluff and I panicked. I PANICKED!!!

And, as you can probably see, wrote reams of whump and h/c instead. But I tried.

Anyway, there is so much I want to say about this - I’m going to have to bookmark this whole thing just so I can come back again and again to your generous words. Thank you! I do have such a fondness for Eternal Spring, and whether or not it began as a joke, I am SO attached to the idea of Korkie as a Kenobi, the idea that blood isn’t always bad, that healing can happen, that good people make mistakes, that forgiveness IS an option - and I love how that aligns with the Pacifism of Satine’s New Mandalorians. I wish we had more of it (that insistent, unrelenting kindness and compassion) in SW, and Korkie is my little effort at that.

RANTING ASIDE, I hope you find and enjoy this little bit of fluff for the Kenobi-Kryzes. MUCH LOVE.

AND BY THE HAND LED

It was not Life Day. It was not Holyrod week, and Belli’s birthday had been a full ten month ago. Yet still, on this day, Kirokicek Kryze woke with the sun, and raced to his window where he could see the Sundari dockyard in the distance.

Personal shuttles buzzed to and fro. Docking tugs hauled heavy freighters into place. Long, thin vactrains hurtled passengers from one platform to the next, or further on into the heart of the city. A few large ferries which had found mooring overnight made their ponderous voyage upwards, headed for the small opening at the apex of the Sundari dome. They were bound for transports anchored in wet space, the people aboard away for deep space travel to distant stars.

Korkie watched as one neared the aperture, then, with incredible steadiness of hand, cleared the narrow gap with ease. He let go his breath, but his eyes remained fixed upon the opening. He was not much concerned with the ships that left, but instead found great interest in those ferries which were currently arriving.

They took turns - one in, one out - and with every exchange, Korkie felt as though the city was making room for a very special guest. One who loomed larger than life in his young consciousness, and one who occupied more and more space in his heart the closer he came.

Bebu was coming home.

A knock at his door was not enough to tear his attention from the spectacle outside, but he shuffled over to make room for his mother beside him at the window.

“Good morning, cyar'ika,” she said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “And what has got you up so early?”

She still wore her nightclothes beneath a fine gown of pressed velvet. Korkie leaned back into her embrace, stroking the soft fabric, and letting the warm, sweet smell of sleep wash over him.

“I’m watching the dockyards,” he said. “Look! Do you think that one of them has Bebu on it?”

Satine let her chin rest on the crown of his head, and followed his gaze to the sky.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Are you excited for your Bebu to come home?”

Korkie turned, trying to get a glimpse of her expression which could only be as teasing as his own was incredulous. She smiled.

“Excited, Belli?” he asked. “I am so, so, superlatively excited!”

“My,” she said, her face transforming to one of awe. “That is quite a superlative word you have discovered. Is it new?”

Korkie nodded. “I am saving it for Bebu, for our collection. Do you think he shall like it?”

“I think he shall be quite impressed, dinui.”

“I have another, but I always say it wrong, so I think I shall write it down, instead.”

“That is very wise,” she said. “For then there is no chance of misunderstanding, and then your father can teach you to speak it correctly.”

Korkie grinned, and squeezed her hand, so glad to be in such perfect accord.

“That was exactly my plan, Belli!”

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast,” she said, laughing. “Now come.”

“Are we going to the docks?”

“Not yet,” she said. “First meal first, I think, and then we shall see.”

She stood from her place behind Korkie, and smoothed her skirts. The early morning sun fell kindly over her face, so that it lit her eyes from behind, like the facet of some bright gem. She held out her hand to him.

“But Belli -!”

“Is that fussing I hear coming out of your mouth?” she asked, the perfect image of confusion.

“No,” he conceded, hanging his head in defeat.

“I thought not,” she said. “Not my Korkie. Besides, we must first ensure that we are properly fed, and tidied before we appear at the docks. We cannot have our tummies grumbling and complaining while we are at the height of a superlative joy, now can we?”

“That would be rather distracting,” he allowed.

“And what would your father think if you showed up all bleary eyed, and sleep tousled? He’d hardly recognise you!”

“That’s not true,” protested Korkie. “He’d think me a ‘devoted legislator’. He said so last time.”

Satine cocked her head, a smirk curling in the corner of her mouth, and pinned just there, until such a time as she could give it to the owner of those borrowed words.

“Well, cyare, I cannot think he meant it as a compliment,” she said, wiggling her fingers temptingly. “Now come - to firsts.

In the kitchens, his mother suggested they arrange a menu, scrounged from the conservator and pantry, while the staff set about preparing for the rest of their day.

“No need to bother anyone too much when it’s just us, right?” She placed a stool in front of an out of the way countertop, and held his hand while Korkie made a great leap to stand atop it. “Now, what are we hungry for?”

“Isbeans, and egg!” he cried. “With fresh muja juice!”

“Muja juice!” she echoed in surprise. “My, but we’re feeling quite indulgent today!”

“Well, it is a special occasion!” he said.

“Of course, you’re right. Muja juice it is. Anything else, ad’ika?”

He thought for a moment, but knowing how easily she had acceded to his first request, he concluded it most reasonable to forward several more.

“Perhaps some toast,” he said. “And flatcakes. And melon squares with black fire jelly? And then some moof milk and summerberries because they’ll go bad if we don’t eat them. With sucre crystals on the top. And maybe - only because Bebu says it’s healthy - a cup of kava. But just one, or I’ll be up all night.”

She crouched down to meet him, mischief sparkling in her eyes and not a word of protest at his requests. Instead, her tone was conspiratorial, as though they were together in some great game of hide and hunt.

“Let’s brew a whole pot,” she said. “So that we may share it.”

He laughed in delight. Satine pulled down a tin of weava flour, and let him sprinkle the surface while she portioned out another measure into a shallow bowl for flatcakes. Under her careful eye, he cracked a tip-yip egg, and tipped in some sucre. She worked the mixture into a sticky dough, and portioned out small spheres for Korkie to press out upon the counter. Cook A’den looked on skeptically, but when his stack of raw discs began to pile up, she stepped in with a sigh, and a fond smile and lifted him on her hip while she fried them over a nano-cooker.

As he worked, Satine gathered the berries and the milk, and a little pot of sucre. Helping hands piled plates high with toast, and ulik butter. Isbeans and hard boiled eggs followed, kept warm beneath heated domes. A whole pitcher of ice cold muja juice was produced from the conservator, and a fresh pot of kava was left to steep with wide, green leaves still in it. There was so much food that, in the end, a small cart was required to bear the fruits of their labours, while Korkie added the final touch of perfectly browned flatcakes.

Normally, they would eat their firsts in the family dining hall, but Satine insisted that she could not possibly do so while still dressed in her nightclothes.

“And scandalise the whole parliament? I think not, my very shocking dinui. No, it’s best we take everything back to my rooms, and eat there where no one will think us as uncivilised as we appear.”

So with many thanks to A’den, and her workers, Korkie followed his mother down the glistening marbloid halls with their wide windows. The sun was nearly all the way up, and the traffic in the sky had only increased since Korkie last looked. He was hit with the sudden realisation that perhaps many ferries had come and gone in his absence, and any one of them might contain his father. He raced to the window to check.

“Come along, Korkie,” said Satine. “Soon. I promise.”

Torn between food and the possibility that his father was waiting for him even now, Korkie gave into the demands of his hunger, and followed his mother down the hall.

They stopped outside her door, the cart pushed just off to the side. Satine looked at him appraisingly, smoothing one hand over his determinedly erstwhile hair.

“Oh dear,” she said, straightening his synfleece robe, as he reached for the cart to steal a summerberry from the pile. “You do look a sight. But I suppose it cannot be helped.”

She gave him a fond caress, her thumb tracing the swell of his little cheek with such reverence, and care that Korkie nearly felt guilty for snatching the fruit. But she smiled as he swallowed, and he supposed it must just have been one of those strange things buirs did from time to time, where they mixed up joy and sorrow and said nothing about it.

“I shall comb my hair later, Belli,” he offered. That seemed to do the trick, for she laughed, and stood, and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“I will remember you said that,” she said. “Now, be a good boy and get the door for your Belli, would you?”

She returned to the cart, as he wiped his hands down the length of his robe, and reached for the palmpad. The door chimed, and slid aside with the barest sigh of air. Inside, Korkie could see that the curtains had been pulled back, and the room was flooded blue and gold with the oncoming day. Playful shadows danced across the floor where hanging tassels toyed with the sun. The carpet glistened like thick grass, lush and crowned in dew. A small table with three chairs sat to one side, and an old cloak lay thrown across it. There were boots, too large for his mother to wear, a belt too wide to be hers, and there, in the bed, swaddled in silkweed sheets and haloed by the sun, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hovering on the edge of waking.

“Bebu!” Korkie shouted.

At his cry, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and smiled, catching his son as raced across the floor and leapt upon the bed in a single motion.

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.”

“Bebu!” Korkie cried again, laughing and wriggling with joy. His father lifted him over his head, holding him aloft as he made his cursory examination.

“Korkicek!” he groaned, as his strength gave out and Korkie tumbled atop his father’s chest in a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You must be very much grown since I last saw you, for you are getting too heavy for me!”

“No, I’m not, Bebu,” he said. “I’ve only grown two centimeteres since you were gone, and Belli says that’s only because I’m on a spurt.”

“Only two centimeters?” Obi-Wan demands. “Dear me, that’s not very much at all. I shall expect more diligence in your efforts at stretching if we are to make any serious headway in this matter.”

Korkie giggled. “Don’t be silly, Bebu,” he said. “I cannot stretch myself bigger. It takes time.”

“And heavy reading,” Obi-Wan agreed gravely.

“And good eating,” Satine added from behind them. She’d set the table in their distraction. Obi-Wan’s cloak now hung respectably from a hook by the fresher blind, and three plates sat waiting to be filled. The isbeans steamed, their skin crackling and blackened. The flatcakes dripped with galek syrup and butter. The summerberries shone plump and delectable in their precarious pyramid. The black fire jellies jiggled, and the muja juice sparkled.

“Is that fresh kava I smell?” asked Obi-Wan.

“It is!” said Korkie. “And all sorts of things which Belli and I made! I suppose it’s a lucky thing we made so much extra, for now you can share it with us.”

“A lucky thing, indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed. He looked at Satine with such adoration that the smirk she had pinned up earlier unfurled completely and crossed her face in a radiant smile.

“Come, Bebu,” said Korkie, taking his father’s hand in his. “Enough lazing about in bed. Let’s eat, or the kava will get cold.”

“Quite right,” Obi-Wan agreed, standing as Korkie slid to his feet beside him, and tugged him over to where Satine was waiting. “We can’t have that.”

“And you may have my cup as well,” added Korkie, magnanimously, “As it is truly a rotten drink, even if you say it is healthy. But since it is such a special day, I don’t think I should be forced to have it, anyway.”

“He drives a hard bargain, your son,” said Obi-Wan, leaning in to beg a small kiss.

“Ah, but of course,” said Satine, quick to grant his request. “He gets that from you, cyare.”

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.” - Ah, my little terror! I was wondering when you might show up. It has been far too quiet without you.

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast” - The best mind agrees with itself. (read: Great minds think alike.)

ad’ika, dinui, cyare - little one, gift, beloved.

#my fic #prompt fill #korkie is a kenobi #korkie kryze #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #fluff #fic

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Text

Humble Pie

None of the prompts in my inbox are currently speaking to me, so I decided to fill in a gap in my fic continuity and write something non-shippy. So here’s McCree’s recruitment into Blackwatch!

-----

It was the most crowded the Panorama Diner had been in god-knew-how-long. Overwatch agents and local law enforcement mingled in a mix of blue and beige, some clustered around table booths hasty laptop and holo-comm stations, some pacing about the floor, talking on their own comms and headpieces with officers back at Watchpoint Grand Mesa or even as far as Zurich. The most crowded Panorama had been, and no one was eating.

Well... almost no one.

“You sure you don’t want any?” said Gabe, pressing the side of his fork into the slice of apple pie, sectioning off the flaky crust and gooey filling.

Jesse McCree frowned sullenly at his own plate, his own slice of pie already in a puddle of melting vanilla ice cream. He moved to pick up his fork and the chain of his handcuffs clinked with the movement. He glared up at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, but Reyes kept calmly eating.

“It’s good pie,” Gabe said with a slight shrug. The corners of McCree’s mouth pulled inward in a repulsed little scowl.

“Ain’t you got anything better to do?” McCree growled. There was a pitchiness in his voice that spoke to the last miserable ekes of puberty in all their acne-speckling glory still clinging to his scrappy form.

“Oh we’ve got all the time in the world,” said Gabe with another forkful of pie.

“Where’s Ashe?” said McCree.

“Her folks posted her bail, and I have a stack of forms from her family legal team roughly as thick as your head that forbid me from saying anything further on her involvement in this incident.”

“Oh,” McCree huffed a little and eased back in his seat, “Guess that means they’re coming for me next,” A smug smile eased onto his features, but Reyes didn’t seem to respond to that, just let McCree’s words sit in the air between them as his fork scraped across his plate, gathering bits of pastry and melted ice cream dappled with cinnamon.

McCree first basked in the silence as victory, but as he noted the lack of reaction in Reyes, doubt crept in slowly. Reyes gently set his fork down on the side of his plate and looked up at Jesse. The calm eye contact from Reyes was all it took for Jesse’s nerves to bubble up in his throat.

“I mean... “ a short nervous laugh rippled out of him, “Th-that’s what they said, right? They’d be representin’ me, too?”

Reyes said nothing, just gave him a steady look.

“Right?” that pitchiness sharpened in his voice, nearly making it crack.

“...it’s a tough truth of this world, kid,” Reyes said, leaning back in his seat slightly, “Don’t get involved with rich kids. They can buy their way out of trouble, but you...”

“No--” McCree interrupted him, “No--there’s--there’s been a mistake. Ashe said--she said---”

“Maybe there was honor amongst thieves out here, under an open sky,” said Reyes with a weary shrug, “But I can’t say the same in the US legal system. And it’s a story jurors would love to hear: the pretty, oil tycoon princess just wants adventure, just wants attention, she gets mixed up with the dastardly local trash... falls in with a bad crowd... oh but she can change, she just needs another chance--it was Jesse McCree doing all the work, anyway, it was all his idea. Is that even his real name? Oh but don’t worry, 12 years in a maximum security cell oughta straighten him right up.”

All color had drained from McCree’s face. The look in those eyes would have been heartbreaking if Reyes wasn’t well aware he was a little shit.

“So that’s the stick,” said Reyes, picking up his fork, “Do you want to hear about the carrot, now?”

McCree tried to bring some hardness back to his expression, but his brow was still crinkling, realizing just how easy it was for Ashe’s family to throw him under the bus and how he had refused to see it for so long.

“...I ain’t a rat,” said McCree, staring down at the pie, “’sides, not like I can give you anything useful anyway.”

“I’m not looking for information,” said Reyes, “I’m looking for insight. A sharp eye. A steady hand.”

“Fresh blood,” McCree tilted his head up a little. Reyes gave a small single nod.

A small scoff escaped McCree. “You can forget it. I ain’t a narc and I ain’t cannon fodder.”

“Did I say I was looking for a narc or cannon fodder?” Reyes pointed a fork at him, “Overwatch has plenty of those in our ranks already, rebuilding after the crisis is going to take more than bright-eyed button-up dumbasses star-struck by propaganda,” Reyes set the fork on his plate again and pushed it aside, now picking up a binder that had been on the seat next to him and flipping it open to CCTV photos of McCree. One was of him fixing up a dilapidated hover bike, another was of him carrying groceries in both arms for an old woman, and there were several photos of non-lethal gun wounds, “We had to do months of research to pull off this sting operation, and you know what I saw? Guts. Resourcefulness. Resilience. The ability to defuse high-tension situations. The ability to convince other people towards your own goals. The marks of a man who lives by a code... or at least is starting to. You wanted to be the goddamn Robin Hood of Route 66, but you’re young, you’re cocky, and you’re sloppy, and now you’re here.”

“You know how many ‘you have so much potential’ weepy speeches I’ve had to sit through?” McCree muttered.

“I don’t know, but I can guarantee you that whether you say yes or no, this is the last one,” said Reyes.

McCree’s glance fell down to his handcuffs. “It’s like that, then?”

“It’s like that,” said Reyes.

McCree was silent for a long time.

“I can give you the usual spiel--three square meals a day, roof over your head, travel the world and meet new and interesting people, top notch combat training--but you’ve heard all that shit before, and that didn’t convince you then, so there’s no reason it’ll convince you now,” Reyes went on, “You had fuck-all to do around here, but it wasn’t like you were going to join Overwatch or the army just to get out of here--you didn’t want to get out by fitting into someone else’s mold.”

McCree made a near-scoffing “hm” noise that hinted at a smile.

“Did I read you right?” said Reyes.

“Fuck you,” the words came almost warmly out of McCree and his eyes were fixed on Reyes with a pensive curiosity that made Reyes wonder how interesting the conversation got out here in the middle of nowhere. McCree rubbed his chin, with one hand, the cuffs forcing his other hand to lift and hang lazily with the motion. “...y’know, I saw you in all those Crisis propaganda movies... thought you’d be more like Morrison.”

“Morrison can have all the clean-scrubbed soldiers he wants,” said Gabe with a shrug, leaning back in his seat, “Me? I want the survivors. I want the cockroach motherfuckers.”

McCree snorted at this.

“Dying for a cause you believe in,” Reyes followed up, “That’s easy. I saw loads of people do it... doing what needs to be done though... being willing to live with that shit afterward because there’s more shit to be done... It takes a certain kind of person to do that. And I’d rather have that person on my team than rotting away in a cell.”

“On your team,” McCree repeated, squinting skeptically.

“After the proper training of course. And there’s medical care. Dental. You get dental with the whole outlaw thing?”

McCree’s lips self-consciously closed over his teeth on instinct.

“And for what it’s worth, we’ll let you keep the hat,” said Reyes.

That smile tugged at the corner of McCree’s mouth. He resettled in his seat slightly, picked up his fork and sectioned off a bit of his own pie, now a virtual pile of pastry and apple mush beneath the melted remnants of its vanilla ice cream.

“Cockroach motherfuckers, huh?” said McCree, taking a bite of the pie.

“Working team name. Jack’s been pushing me toward ‘Blackwatch’ but what the hell does he know?”

“What does he know?” said McCree with a smile, taking another bite.

#overwatch #jesse mccree #gabriel reyes

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omnivorousshipper · 4 years

Note

Request Friday: Ok, Omni— we’re gonna need some hairless cat Deckard being cared for by Luke— where Deck is in a plethora of sweaters.

Maybe Deckard got hit with a temporary curse and Hattie has been taking care of him but she has a mission. Owen can barely feed himself and Mama Shaw claims cat allergies—so Hattie shows up and calls in a marker Hobbs owes her. He’s stuck watching over Deckard until the curse wears off or she’s back from her mission. Here is some inspiration:

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

THOSE PICS ARE THE CUTEST THINGS IVE EVER SEEN!!

WHY ARENT ALL OF YOU PUTTING PICS OF HAIRLESS CATS IN MY INBOX???

I absolutely love this prompt with my whole heart and now I have to write 2 versions of Deckard as a cat now!!! 😭😭

And I instantly had to go find my roommate to laugh at the idea of Mama Shaw saying no to taking Deckard because of allergies 😂 especially since he's a hairless cat!!

~~~

Standing in Deckard's kitchen, Hattie sighed and brought her phone away from her ear. Hanging up, she let a grimace cross over her features

She had just been called in for a mission. On the other side of the world

While she was supposed to be taking car of Deckard

Who was currently a small, hairless cat and sitting on the counter staring at her

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking her what was wrong

"Sorry, Deck." She sighed and rubbed behind his ears and making him purr loudly. "But I have to leave for a mission."

Deckard's purring stopped immediately and he glared at her

"Look." She hissed. "It's not my bloody fault you got cursed on your own last mission and stuck like this. But I need to go and do my job. I'll call mum to come look after you."

Deckard simply glared harder at her before jumping off the counter and away from her

Shaking her head, Hattie pulled out her phone again and called their mother. She finally picked up after several rings

"Hatts? What's wrong, love?"

"Mum, could you take Deckard for a week? I have to go on a mission for work and will be out of the country."

"You know I can't be around cats, dear. Terrible allergies."

"Mum." Hattie sighed in frustration. "You're allergic to cat hair, which Deckard doesn't even bloody have."

"Don't want to take any chances, now do we."

"Then what the bloody hell do you want me to do with him?"

"Can't you put him in a boarding house or something?"

"This is your son we're talking about, not just some pet, mum!" Hattie exclaimed

"I know, I know. But I still can't take him."

"Fine. I'll figure something out." Hattie snapped and hung up

Thank goodness Deckard didn't hear that conversation

---

A few hours later, as Hattie sat on the couch with Deckard curled up on her lap and wearing a fluffy, green sweater, Hattie still hadn't figured out what to do with Deckard

She didn't want to leave him alone, even if he could handle himself

Sighing, she watched the TV buy glanced down at her phone when she received a text

Hey, it's Luke. I'm in town, want to get dinner?

Looking between her phone and Deckard, Hattie smiled wickedly

---

Deckard was fast asleep in his own bed when he heard two sets of footsteps walking down the hallway towards him

Poking his head out of the blankets, Deckard sleepily looked as Hattie led Luke Hobbs into his bedroom

"I thought you wanted me to look after a cat. Not a rat." Luke said, squinting at Deckard, who was wide awake now

"Fuck off, he's a real cat." Hattie huffed. "He's just hairless."

Hattie walked up to him and Deckard glared at her but didn't do anything as she took the blankets off him and scooped him up

"You have to keep him warm or else he'll freeze," Hattie explained, showing off the shirt Deckard was wearing. It was a similar design to the pajamas he normally wore as a human

"Is he ok with you putting him in clothes?" Luke frowned

"D is pretty good with it. He loves wearing them."

Deckard didn't fight as Hattie carried him towards the dresser drawer they had filled with cat sweaters. She held him close to it and allowed him to choose which one he wanted to wear

He pawed at the outfit that looked like a thrre piece suit

Deckard would have preferred his extremely fluffy, rainbow sweater, but he didn't want Luke seeing him in it

"He just picks them out?" Luke asked incredulously

"He's intelligent and has a good sense of fashion." Hattie laughed and brought Deckard back to the bed

She easily unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and Deckard held still as she slipped the other outfit on him

"See? He likes wearing them." Hattie smiled at Luke

"Ok, the weird hairless cat likes clothes, got it. Anything else I need to know?"

"I already have all of his meals ready, so just feed him those when you eat. He's a social eater." Hattie shrugged and picked Deckard up again, who was getting a bit sick of being picked up. "Oh, and he's a huge cuddler."

Before Deckard knew it, he was being shoved into Luke's arms. Digging his claws in, Deckard scrambled to find a comfortable position but quickly stopped when he felt just how warm Luke's arms were

Melting into the man's hold, Deckard started to purr

"D already likes you." Hattie giggled

"Small miracles." Luke mumbled and brought a hand up to stroke under Deckard's chin, who purred even harder

---

It had been three days since Luke agreed to take care of Hattie's cat, D

And honestly, he was enjoying himself immensely

D followed him everywhere, meowing for attention and to be picked up, and when Luke didn't pick him up in time, he would climb Luke like a tree

It was frankly adorable to see the small cat always wanting to cuddle with him or just be held

As Luke walked to the kitchen to make lunch, D was draped across his shoulders. Luke could feel the fluffy material from his rainbow sweater tickling his neck

Opening the fridge, Luke made himself a sandwich and pulled out a small tupperware filled with meat for D. Setting the tupperware next to his plate, Luke let D drop onto the counter

Eating his sandwich with one hand, Luke watched as D gobbled down his good. Smiling, Luke reached over and pet D, who lifted his head and blinked slowly at Luke

Who swore D was smiling at him happily

The kitchen was quiet as they ate, only the sound of D's purring filling the air

---

Brushing his teeth, Luke was a little disappointed that Hattie would be back in the morning, meaning his time with D would come to an end

He really had fallen in love with the cat

Rinsing, Luke nearly jumped when he heard a sharp meow at his feet

Looking down, D was weaving between his feet and looking up at him

"Right. You like to wear your pajamas to bed." Luke chuckled and scooped the cat up

D purred furiously as Luke changed out his black turtleneck sweater for his black shirt with white buttons

Laying down in the bed, Luke smiled as D almost ran up his body to curl under his chin and settle down for the night

Luke fell asleep to to the feeling of a small cat on his chest

And woke up to the feeling of a human body sleeping on his chest instead

Blinking his eyes open, Luke yawned and looked down to greet D

But found Deckard Shaw fast asleep on him, and wearing a shirt identical to the one D had been wearing

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!! I really loved doing this one!

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #hattie shaw #shapeshifting au #asks #omni answers #omni writes

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vanosslirious · 4 years

Note

Hiii! Prompt request here.

Can we have from ask #74

Vanoss - 5, 1, 20

And from ask #73

Smii7y -2

Terroriser -1

Sark - 9

Moo -1, 10

And Delirious - 10

Please! ❤️❤️

(hope that's not too much of a disaster to ask)

It’s okay. Wasn’t too bad. Although, I’ll be closing my inbox for Dec, I’m going to be busy with edits.

Fandom: Banana Bus Squad.

Disclaimer: This fic is somewhat inspired by an auditory hallucination of mine (I keep hearing a baby crying.) Inspired by Phasmophobia. Ghost hunting. Friends. Swearing. Creepy? Not edited. I hope you enjoy this fic.

Wc: 1.3k

. . .

Vanoss had his eyes closed, back against the wall, trying his hardest to ignore the shaking until he let out a shuddered gasp when his friend to his right touched his arm.

“Sorry,” Moo whispered. “I was just wondering when we’re leaving.”

It was so dark, and smelled awful, like stagnant water all over the place, but for the last two minutes of Vanoss trying to concentrate, he couldn’t really get what he was trying to figure out.

“It’s either a horse,” Vanoss whispered, smiling awkwardly at Moo, “or a monster that’s going to kill us.”

“How reassuring,” SMii7y said from behind Moo.

“I don’t want to turn on the spirit box unless it’s necessary,” Vanoss whispered as he held a book in his arms. They hadn’t gotten the spirit to write in it yet, but he was kind of too scared already to leave their current hiding spot. It wasn’t even a hiding spot, they were standing in the hallway of a massively dark building with long corridors around midnight. Apparently spirits like midnight, or three in the morning. Whichever made the veil thin enough for them to stumble through into their plane of existence.

“I agree with Vanoss,” said Sark, who was standing behind SMii7y, and was holding one of the flashlights that showed them spirit footprints or something like that.

“Also,” Vanoss peeked around the corner towards a wide room, the door had been left open thanks to their valiant leader who had disappeared a mere five minutes ago, “we’re still waiting on Delirious.”

“Do you think something happened to him?” Moo asked, frowning at Vanoss.

Vanoss scoffed as he turned back to his friends who were huddling close to him. “As if, he probably forgot how to kill, and knocked himself out somewhere.”

Sark let out a breath, and there was a bit of white plume leaving his lips. “We should check the rooms and see if we can find him. If not, we should head back to the truck outside.”

“He could be outside,” said SMii7y as they stepped away from the wall, and headed toward the open room.

Vanoss could see Delirious sneaking his way outside, he wasn’t exactly...the heroic type when it came to spirit anyways. Yet, they kind of ignored him for some reason. Maybe they sensed something about him that made him undesirable. He doubted that.

They entered a room that resembled a classroom, yet all the desks were piled up against the wall, and looked awkward from where they were standing.

“Do you think the spirit did that?” Moo asked.

“Or the janitor is practicing his balancing skills,” said SMii7y dryly.

Vanoss wasn’t so sure about that. From the reports they got from the building the following day before nightfall, the janitor barely made a pass throughout the entire building. He stayed on the main floor, sealed up the windows and doors, and left before dusk. He couldn’t have done this unless he was truly bored.

“We should get going,” Vanoss said to his friends who were all oddly transfixed by the desks. “We’re just staring at it. Let’s go. We have to find Delirious.”

“Should’ve brought John, he would’ve enjoyed all of this,” said SMii7y, snickering in the dark as they headed across the room to the doors that led into another room.

Evan let out a small shiver when he heard squeaking coming from the room up ahead.

“Scared?” Moo asked, a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah,” Vanoss admitted, then he turned the knob, and they pushed the door open.

SMii7y was the first to say, “Oh my God, you can spin.”

That wasn’t going to be the first thing Vanoss would’ve said, or even bothered to notice.

“Where the fuck were you?” he asked Terroriser, their other friend who had come along on this venture with them. He was spinning on one of those desk chairs with the wheels.

“I was actually looking for you guys,” Terroriser said, holding a camera in his hand that had a black strap wrapped around his wrist. “I had to go back for this, remember.”

Vanoss scowled as SMii7y and Moo were urging Terroriser to get off the seat. SMii7y sat down, and Moo spun him around while Terroriser made his way over to Vanoss and Sark.

“Did you see Delirious anywhere?”

Terroriser shook his head, “No, but I did catch this.” He showed them the camera and the picture within.

“What the fuck is that?” Sark asked as he peered at the photo.

“It’s a baby.”

Doll, more like it. It was dressed in a ballerina suit, and was missing an eye, including some hair. Looked like it was burned at the edges, and slightly melted on the fingers and cheeks.

Vanoss sighed. “We lost Delirious five-six minutes ago. He came through here, but I guess he didn’t bother staying for long.”

Terroriser shrugged. “So what do you think? He headed back out to the van or what?”

“Maybe, we should head back unless…” Vanoss glanced up at Sark.

Sark was shaking his head. “Oh no, I’m ready, I’m ready.” He was rocking back and forth on either foot “What about those two?”

SMii7y was now spinning Brock, both of them laughing in the echoing room.

“Hey, we’re going outside, so if you see the—”

“No, we’re coming,” SMii7y said, jogging over to them and leaving Brock who let out a yelp as they all turned away from him.

“Shit, I have to get the other camera, does anyone want to come with me?” Terroriser asked, already slowing his pace.

Brock scoffed as he stepped past him. “Your camera, your problem.”

Terroriser scowled, then sprinted back to grab his forgotten camera, while the rest headed out of the room, down the corridor to the stairs. They didn’t hear anything else inside the building, although Evan was thinking of leaving the book in case they manage to get spirit writing.

“Nah, just bring it with us,” said Sark as he kept the door open after SMii7y and Moo stepped outside.

Vanoss nodded, and stepped past the threshold, then let out a laugh when he and Sark heard Terroriser telling them to wait up. The second he was outside of the building, Terroriser let out a deep breath.

“I hate going on this little visits to remote places,” said Terroriser.

“Remote?” Vanoss asked, glancing toward a normal looking neighborhood across the street from them.

When they drew closer, Moo had his hands on his hips, and didn’t look pleased while SMii7y had already stepped into the van and was placing his own camera down onto the shelf.

“Whoever backed up the truck right here, fantastic job by the way, well done,” he said, giving them a sarcastic smile as much as his tone of voice.

While the others stepped into the truck to set their objects on the shelf, Vanoss stayed on the sidewalk, turning back to the building and taking out his walkie talkie.

He twisted the dial to Delirious’ channel. “Hey, Delirious...are you alive?”

There was only static for several seconds, and when Vanoss tried to play it off as a joke, even though he was getting worried, it wasn’t until the front door to the building was shoved open, and Delirious was sprinting towards him, flailing his arms, with wide panicked eyes.

“I fucking seen her!”

Vanoss sighed. “I was trying to—”

Delirious panted as he slowed his pace, then wrapped his arms around Vanoss. “Yeah, I dropped it, so I really hope you weren’t the one who bought the equipment.”

Vanoss rolled his eyes, then rubbed Delirious back. “Uh, no, Sark did...our ghost hunting job is independent, and more of a hobby. So, maybe he’ll go back in tomorrow morning to grab it.”

“Alright,” said Delirious, then they pulled away, and climbed into the back of the van. Delirious explained what happened while Vanoss closed the back part, catching the baby doll that Terroriser caught on camera in the window.

He grimaced, and sealed the doors shut, telling Sark to hurry up and start driving. He could really go for some pizza.

#bbs requested fic #banana bus squad #bbs #vanossgaming #h2odelirious #mr sark #smii7y #moo snuckel #the gaming terroriser #requested fic #fanfiction #fanfic #ghost hunting au #text #words

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

17 for the fanfic asks, but tell like three because you obvs have like a million!

(Sorry it took me so long to get to this one!)

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

Three! Okay, okay, okay, SO, I still have just under 100 C&C prompts sitting in my inbox, haha, and I have them in a spreadsheet now so that I can sort of merge the ones that I think work well together and build a story in my head to hopefully one day write. It’s why most of the C&C prompt fills these days involve a lot of different prompts so that hopefully I can scratch an itch for a whole lot of people at once (Stupid Cupid filled six prompts! Animalia eight!)

Plus going through them and seeing how certain ones fit makes for an extremely fun puzzle when I’m procrastinating actually writing, haha.

SO! Here are three C&C prompts I’ve started to slot together, but am yet to write a single word of / exist exclusively in my head:

a. Emma’s first boyfriend (7 prompts so far).

What’s shaping up in my head right now is a v Beth-centric installment. People expect Rio to be the overprotective one, but much to everyone’s surprise, it ends up being Beth who struggles with the reality of Emma starting to date. In no small part, because Beth’s first boyfriend was Dean, and Annie’s first boyfriend resulted in Ben. There are many shenanigans overall, but it’s really an extension of the anxiety Beth started to feel in Stupid Cupid, not just of Emma growing up, but Beth not being able to protect her all the time anymore. There’s also a lot of Beth and Rio together and apart having to actually talk about Beth’s childhood, and a lot of Beth trying to make sense of her choices at the age Emma is now (14). It’ll be angsty but also hopefully pretty fun? Beth will definitely threaten to murder the boyfriend. I’m sure there will be brio porn, hahaha.

b. C&C Prequel Fic (3 prompts so far).

I’ve had a couple of different requests for a prequel fic set before Beth and Rio move in together at the start of C&C. One that particularly spoke to me was the moment Beth’s kids realise that Rio might be a permanent fixture in their lives. This’ll be the first (maybe only?) installment of C&C not told from Beth or Rio’s POV, but from each of the kids’ instead! Maybe a five things fic? I haven’t decided yet, haha.

c. Career’s Day at School (3 prompts so far).

This is actually really heavily based on one prompt where Dean’s supposed to show up on Career’s Day for Jane, but cancels at the last minute, and Rio, who’s already there for Marcus, ends up standing in for Jane too. That’s basically the prompt, haha, which I love, but I’m currently teasing out a few other dynamics in it. I’ve got a couple of prompts for Dean realising that the kids are starting to form a family unit with Rio, and so I think what this is going to look like is that it’s still relatively early in the relationships, and Dean’s not going to show up because he gets held up at work / in traffic, not because he doesn’t want to be there, but misses it anyway, and I think it might force A Talk between Dean and Rio about the shifting dynamics of the family. In the meantime though, there will be quality RIo, Marcus and Jane content.

I have plenty more too, but these are three I think I’m probably actually going to write at some point!

Ask me about fanfic!

#thanks for asking and sorry again about the late reply #fic asks #the center and circumference #welcome to my ama #missmaxime

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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Prompt #5: Miscommunication

It’s Day 5 of the Good Omens Anniversary Month Celebration! Today’s prompt is miscommunication... and I have to admit I had a lot of fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy!

____________________

Friday morning, Earth

“I got the strangest memo today,” Aziraphale said one morning at breakfast.

Crowley wasn’t quite awake enough to focus on memos, to be honest, but he was trying. He downed his espresso in one gulp and set about getting the machine set up to make another.

“From who?” he finally said.

“Gabriel, supposedly, but I think perhaps he’s got a new intern, some low-ranking angel who’s not quite up to speed on using the computer systems yet.”

“Whatsitsay?” Crowley mumbled, poking buttons wildly on the espresso machine until something started to happen.

“It says,” Aziraphale said with a hint of laughter in his voice, “that for the love of God, Aziraphale, can you please exorcise all restraint in your interactions with the demon Crowley.”

Crowley grinned, suddenly much more awake. “Exorcise restraint? Not exercise?”

Aziraphale grinned back. “Yes indeed.”

“So – you received an official reprimand letter from the wanker you no longer work for, telling you to please, for the love of god, remove all of your inhibitions, burn the modesty out of you, and go hog wild with the demon Crowley?”

Aziraphale smoothed down his waistcoat. “I believe that’s the long and the short of it.”

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Well I believe we should write a rather detailed field report on how you fulfilled those orders to the letter.”

“I think that would be most enjoyable,” Aziraphale said with a predatory smile. “Where should we begin?”

“Where’s that kama sutra book you hide away from the customers?” Crowley said.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and went off to look for it.

Sunday morning

Up in Heaven, in the bowels of the smallest office, the angel Naviel watched the two printers he was in charge of grind away, one spitting out short tabs of paper that listed, line by line, each miracle used on Earth. This was quite a dull job, generally.

The other was essentially the inbox for Heaven. All incoming documents arrived there and were routed by Naviel through interoffice pneumatic tubes to their proper locations. Unless they were very, very sensitive, and then he delivered them carefully and in person.

The letter that arrived this morning appeared to fall in the latter category.

“Oh my,” he said, reading it over. His coworker over at one of the many incoming prayer desks looked up.

“You all right over there, Nav?” she asked in concern. “You look pale.”

Naviel swallowed down the urge to fling the paper across the room to her. “How long has it been since Gabriel discorporated a messenger angel?”

His coworker narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. “I think he’s only done it twice. Which really isn’t that much at all, considering how long we’ve been at this.”

“I think he’s going to make it three today,” Naviel said. “If … if I don’t come back, please take over my printers, would you?”

His coworker, momentarily distracted by an uptick in transmissions on her own devices, nodded distractedly.

Naviel gathered the customary silver tray, placed the letter on it, and hurried off to Gabriel’s office.

Friday evening

On Earth, a certain angel and demon came up for air, flushed and breathless after working their way through a remarkable number of increasingly acrobatic combinations of an amorous nature.

“Care for some sushi, angel?” Crowley said.

“Why, I think I could be tempted,” Aziraphale said with a grin. “But only if we get an amount that is truly, truly indecent. Might as well add gluttony to the list.”

Crowley grinned wolfishly. “I’ll feed it to you piece by piece, angel,” he said. “We’ll combine gluttony, sloth, and lust all in one go.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Oh, I so hope you’re keeping a list. I do need to report all of this accurately.”

Sunday morning

Naviel knocked on Gabriel’s door and entered nervously when Gabriel bellowed. Gabriel was seated behind his immense mahogany desk, adjusting his hair in a pocket mirror. He hardly even looked up when Naviel entered.

“Field report for you, sir,” Naviel said hesitantly. “From the Principality.”

“I’m busy,” Gabriel said. “Read it to me.”

Naviel swallowed. “I- I’d rather not, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Gabriel lowered his mirror and stared at Naviel, taking him in for the first time. “Nar – Nad – what was your name again?”

“Naviel, sir.”

“Right!” He gave the clerk a broad and insincere smile. “Don’t be a drip. Do your job and read it to me, okay?”

Naviel knew enough about Gabriel to know he should definitely not push back any further if he didn’t want to be demoted to cleaning duty. “If you insist, sir,” he said, clearing his throat. He put the tray down on the corner of Gabriel’s desk, and picked up the papers in hands that he had to visibly try not to let tremble.

“My Dear Gabriel,” he began. He looked up nervously and Gabriel motioned impatiently for him to continue, as he returned to examining his hairline in the mirror.

“At last, a missive from you that I can firmly get behind, so to speak. I was delighted to receive your request for a complete cessation of all inhibitions and restraint in my dealings with the demon heretofore known as Crowley, now currently known to all and sundry as my spouse and the love of my life. As per your note, I took a few moments to excise the last remnants of modesty and restraint from my heart, and set about seeing what we could do to fulfill your instructions. The following is a rather thorough list of my activities over the last forty-eight hours. I know you do so prefer for me to be thorough in my reports.”

Saturday afternoon

Aziraphale stretched luxuriously and took a moment to admire the sight of his husband lying thoroughly debauched in their bed, his pale skin a lovely contrast to the dark blue linen sheets that were gathered around his hips. He ran a hand down his back and then hopped out of bed for a moment to pad downstairs and retrieve his favorite fountain pen and a few pieces of creamy stationery emblazoned with his winged crest.

He rejoined Crowley in the bed and leaned down to give him a kiss on the temple. Crowley murmured at him but made no effort to stir.

“Stay put, love,” Aziraphale said. “I have a letter to write. And I thought it might be a lovely bit of irony to use your beautiful, naked back as my writing desk. Would you mind terribly?”

Crowley chuckled. “Is this letter to a certain wankwings archangel?”

“But of course,” Aziraphale replied.

“Be my guest,” Crowley said. “But you have to read it aloud to me as you write.”

Aziraphale laid the paper on Crowley’s back, and began composing. “My Dear Gabriel,” he said aloud, writing in his tidy and extremely old-fashioned copperplate. “At last, a missive from you that I can firmly get behind, so to speak.”

Crowley snorted and Aziraphale patted his backside appreciatively.

“Hush now,” he said, “don’t go tempting me. And you have to hold still for this to work – do you or do you not want to know that Gabriel is holding a letter that was written on your naked body?”

Crowley smiled. His husband was the best bastard in the entire universe. He did his best to hold still.

Sunday morning

Naviel made it to the bottom of the first page, his face burning bright red and his tongue feeling dry as shoe leather and twice its usual side, as he read item after item on the world’s longest and most mortifying bullet list of debauchery.

Gabriel sat stony-faced at the desk, mirror forgotten, looking too shocked to even breathe. Not that he needed to. But he liked to keep up appearances.

Finally Naviel dared to take a slight break to cough and try to return some moisture to his tongue.

“That will be quite enough!” Gabriel shouted, returning to his senses and realizing that he was allowing another, lower angel to witness this moment of abject humiliation at the hand of his oldest and hardest-fought rival. “Leave it with me, I will read the rest.”

Naviel put the pages down in vast relief. “I do believe there are a few venn diagrams on the final pages that help to summarize some of the information,” he said. “If you’d care to send a response, I can return with the official letterhead –”

“That will NOT be necessary,” Gabriel said, waving a hand imperiously. “Leave me at once. Go!”

Naviel scurried for the door.

“And Nagriel?” Gabriel called after him.

“Navriel,” the lesser angel corrected him.

“Whatever,” Gabriel said. “Speak of this to anyone and I’ll ensure your memory is reset to the day you were made, do you understand me?”

“Absolutely sir, yes sir,” Navriel said, latching on to the doorknob like it was a life raft. He made it to the anteroom and closed the door behind him, then all but ran for his office.

That was a close one, he thought. He wondered if he could get transferred to the library. Nothing bad ever happened in a library.

#goc2020 #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #gabriel

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daisylincs · 4 years

Text

To round off my 2021 completion of my incredibly late Trick or Treats, the lovely @the-astro-ambassadors won a Treat from me on Treat Day and asked me to spotlight - and this is the particularly lovely part, haha - whatever I wanted. And after considering it for a bit, I decided that what I want to highlight for all you amazing people who follow me and my craziness is none other than my 100 Followers Celebration.

And, ahem, I know that it’s a slightly odd time to do it, given that I currently have... uh... well let’s just say closer to three hundred than one hundred followers (😱😱😱😍😍😍😭 I love you all SO MUCH, oh my goodness!!!!) Anyway, yes, as you can probably tell from the fact that... well the fact that it’s FEBRUARY 2021 and I am finishing a Trick or Treat challenge, I am late for everything. And this celebration, of course, is no different.

Perhaps a good place to start would be to explain what the celebration was all about? Well, luckily, that one’s pretty simple. I put out the gushy posts (and, honestly, I still get that EXACT same feeling whenever I look at my follows page 🥺💜 you are all the BEST, ahhhh!!!)

... Oh my gosh, I’m just going to keep going off topic here about how much I love you all, aren’t I? Ahem, MAN, I need to focus. So, here’s the idea: every time I’m hit by a wave of love, I’m just going to put three lemons in parentheses, and you guys will know they mean “I ADORE YOU SO MUCH, I am so touched flattered stunned surprised moved and insanely happy by your follows/care, and right back to you’re the best people on the planet.” Cool? Cool 🤣🤣🤗

So, to try this again, third time lucky - I put out the gushy posts about having 100 followers (🍋🍋🍋) and explained how I’d like to give something back to YOU (because, guess what, 🍋🍋🍋!) So I set up three separate series, called Danny Boy & Quake, Sky’s the Limit, and Spider-Dorks, and asked you guys to send in prompts for what you’d like to see.

Now, each of the above was aimed at a different section of my followers (🍋🍋🍋). Danny Boy & Quake, for example, is for those of you who are of the Dousy persuasion, and, like me, absolutely loved AoS season 7 and wish the show wasn’t over. So for this series, I’m taking Daisy and Sousa, and basically just... exploring where they go from where canon left us! The first fic, for example, picks up right before the One Year Later time-skip, with Sousa and Kora talking about Daisy and their relationships with her while she’s recovering post-final fight in the healing pod. Then we transition on to Daisy and Sousa bonding with Alya, Fitz, Jemma, and so on... teasing each other about ill-advised 50s haircut choices... and even ending up in the bottom of an ocean as a Fitzsimmons parallel once!

Basically, it’s about Dousy, and the life they might have post-canon - starting their relationship properly, and the adventures they could have, and just... a SHIELD-crazy, but love-rich journey for them both.

Next up is Sky’s the Limit, my personal favourite, and, as you may have guessed given that I’m, well, me xD, it’s Staticquake. This one is set in a post-season 2 AU where, a) Jemma never got eaten by the Monolith, and b) Lincoln joined SHIELD as Daisy’s first Secret Warrior. Lash is not a thing, and neither is the ATCU, it’s just... the SHIELD family, with some bonus sweet-babies Staticquake, being themselves, and getting to have that “what if it was all the SHIELD characters but with no life-threatening situations, just like them going shopping at Target, having karaoke nights, binge-watching shows together, and being a family in general” AU situation that the cast and fandom are always saying they’d like so much.

The first ficlet, for example, is about Lincoln consoling Daisy post-her mom’s death and dad’s mind-wiping, and being the first person she tells about her decision to change her name. From there, we go on to Daisy teasing Fitzsimmons after their successful date, that they actually get to go on, fjslkfjdfljd. After that, we transition into full prank war mode with the whole team, and, of course, an alternate Staticquake get-together... oh, it’s going to be SO FUN. 😍

Last but definitely not least is Spider-Dorks, the series I’m writing for the Spideychelle section of my followers (🍋🍋🍋). It, too, is set in an everything-is-canon-up-until-I-say-to-keep-things-happy AU - this one follows everything that canonically happened right up to and through Spider-Man: Homecoming, but cuts off right after that. And instead of Infinity War, we now get... Peter and MJ being oblivious idiots, Ned shaking his head at them both and also shipping them really hard, and, of course, the three of them getting into all kinds of shenanigans together.

The first ficlet, to give you an idea, is about MJ in her role as AcaDec captain confronting Peter about always missing practice, and basically being like, you can skip it if you want, just know that I’m coming to your place to quiz your ass off when you are home. And because she’s MJ, she also casually drops the bomb of “oh, and I know you’re Spider-Man...” Of course, a firm friendship develops from there, and the next thing you know, MJ and Ned are testing out Peter’s old webshooters, she’s meeting Natasha, and, because of course, Ned’s doing his very best to set up these two oblivious idiots... Oh, yes, I love this one 😝😍

Now, at this point, you may be thinking, well, gosh, look how organised she is, she’s already gotten all the fics written! or something along those lines, but, uh. While I have invested a lot of time in the planning of these series, nothing has actually been written yet, which... is why I’m here today xD. This is going to be one of my biggest projects for 2021 - writing, posting and finishing these three series. Right after I finish my (hey look, also late!!) agentsofchallenges Fluff Bingo, and try to keep up with my birthday fic writing.

... andddd this turned into a spotlight of, hey look it’s Lily’s 2021 schedule! Oh gosh, sorry, I’m incorrigible 🙈 But the point of this entire thing is, I’m throwing a spotlight on these three series today so that anyone who’s interested can know that I am actively working on them as of this year, and if you keep a watch on my blog (and, hey, I would not complain to the occasional encouraging/yelling ask in my inbox 😝) then yes, you will see these series before the end of the year. Hopefully. Definitely!!!

Thank you SO much for playing in my Trick or Treat all those months ago, Heather, and late or no, crazy or no, I hope you enjoyed this answer/treat! Who knows - maybe I’ll even see you in one of these series :D

And to everyone who read this: ALL THE LEMONS TO YOUUUUU, all of them, I genuinely and absolutely adore you. And am also ridiculously excited to share these series with you guys. AHHHHH. You really are the BEST!!! 😍🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

#trick or treat things #100 followers celebration #spotlight #danny boy & quake #sky's the limit #spider-dorks #my series 🥺#i honestly love these three soooo much #but what I ESPECIALLY love about them is that I get to give something back to *you* guys #because honestly -#every SINGLE time I say 'I love you all' I mean it; from the BOTTOM of my heart #you are all the BEST for following me; for caring what I say; and for making me smile THIS MUCH from day to day 💜💜#all!! the!! love!!!#🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋#wip spotlight #🌕🌕🌕#lily's belated trick or treats

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rkivepacks · 4 years

Text

TITLE: surprise in two Pairing: Jung Hoseok - Member x Reader Rating: R18+ Genre: fluff, smut, little crack Word Count: 3,372 Trigger Warning/s: swearing, smut Cross-posted on: AO3/dtgloss

Disclaimer: Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! © AO3/dtgloss / tumblr/rkivepacks

NOTES: ∟ This is a prompt submitted by @himbeaux-joon to @ficswithluv ‘s changeswithluv that allows lovely people to send in commissions for donations to BLM charities and organizations. P.S. I hope i did the prompt justice ∟beta-ed by the lovely @meowxyoong who helped me the whole time!!!

∟ banner by @rkivepacks ∟ request banner here ∟ request prompt/fic here

Prompt: Strangers!AU: You hooked up with a hot guy named Hobi at your best friend's birthday last night. The next morning you realize he's also her little brother Hoseok.

You love all things organizing, decision-making; the works.

But you don’t love stress.

What your best friend’s boyfriend is giving you now reads along the lines of stress.

[New Message] I’m sorry my advisor wanted to reschedule our meeting to today. Forgive me!!!! I PROMISE I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE DO IT DON'T WORRY

You reread the message again before typing back a I will cut your balls off

He replies a I AM REALLY SORRY , followed by a series of hand emojis that you surely know is supposed to be depicting two hands clapping and not to be mistaken as a begging emoji but you let it go.

There are more important things that need your attention.

Like the cake that will apparently just appear later at the surprise party from someone you don’t know and forgot to ask among other things, like organizing the whole party for your best friend.

In their defense, Jiwoo’s boyfriend volunteered to get the cake at least, saying he does not have a bone in his body that is inclined in organizing and left that part of the party to you.

Everything is out of the window now that he had a meeting and would not be able to get the cake in one piece himself on time to the party.

Plans changed and so has your level of patience.

╫

The plan should go like this; let Jiwoo be distracted on her own knowing, that putting someone else for that task will only make it obvious that something is up, meet on the apartment and put up the decorations with Hana as fast as you can before Jiwoo gets back for your ‘planned small get together for the three of you’.

You are currently working on the two-toned tassel garlands that're too slippery to come together when Hana pads into the living room. “The cake is here, Hope said he’ll be back with the pizza.” You hum in acknowledgement, although you do not know who Hope is.

Twenty minutes later with everything set up, you try to have a sip of water when your phone pings.

[New Message] You’re at the apartment? Can you take out the chicken pops from the fridge so I can cook it when I get there hehe

You reply a quick yes and think to yourself sorry, no chicken lollipops today

After a few minutes of checking and finalizing the place, the lock from the main door beeps, signaling that it’s unlocked. Like clockwork you and Hana stare at each other, eyes wide, before she runs to where the light switch would be and quickly turns it off, engulfing the room in an almost pitch dark black just before the door fully opens.

╫

If success is measured by the surprise on Jiwoo’s face, you’d say you did, a hundred percent. Greetings and loves are passed around, pictures are taken and the party is now in full swing.

The preparations tired you out and you end up sitting down by the window that overlooks the back garden, a cup of soda in your hand. Jiwoo and her boyfriend are within your range for now and every time he catches your eye he sends you a sheepish smile and apologies come off of him in airwaves.

You decided to sneak off to the kitchen with a slice of the cake and another glass of soda and get back to your spot on the window as fast as possible.

“Is it good?” You hear a voice not too far from you.

You look at the stranger and assess him, quickly realizing you have not seen the man before as you don't recognize him.

To his credit, he looks handsome in a simple oversized black shirt and jeans, his head covered in a black bucket hat that adorably covers his head perfectly, little hairs peeking out from under it.

“Sorry?” You answer back, unsure.

“Is the cake good?” He repeats.

“Oh yes. Would you like some?” You try to be nice and offer your piece, tilting the plate towards him as he rests on the wall in front of you.

“Thank you, maybe later.” He smiles. “I’m Hoseok.” He introduces himself and you do the same, shaking his hands.

“So are you not in the mood for people? Or…” He trails off and you don’t expect him to stay longer. Not that you mind the company but you had the impression that he was only going to stay to make a small talk to avoid coming off as rude.

“The party just drained me out. And I wanted to have cake in peace.” You explained, tilting your head back as you remember the hecticity of the day.

“Oh you came with Hana, then?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep!” You reply and down the rest of your soda.

“How about we get another piece of cake and soda, and hide somewhere nicer?” He asks, shifting off of his feet.

“Sure.” You smile at him and he leads you back to the kitchen. As Hoseok is slicing the cake for the two of you, Hana comes in skipping into the kitchen. Clearly the alcohol has hit her, considering her face has become red and her hair is almost at rest with what probably is the heat and sweat coming off of her body. Hana comes and wraps two arms around you, swaying you both from right to left before doing the same to Hoseok.

You don't know how the two knew each other and just laugh at Hana’s antics.

“Go away, Hana, you’re drunk.” You shout over the loud music hoping it reaches Hana’s ears but to no avail, the black haired girl just continues her skipping out of the kitchen the same way she entered the room.

╫

Cake and Soda acquired, Hoseok leads you to the guest bedroom that is surprisingly empty. The two of you sit on the floor by the bed, sharing the cake between you. You have been sharing small talk and stories to entertain yourselves.

“I just realized something.” You stop after you hurriedly swallow down the cake, fork midway in the air as you speak. “You’re Hope.” You point the fork towards Hoseok, your tone almost accusatory.

“I am Hope.” Hoseok nods as if the fact is obvious. It’s not for you, apparently.

“Yes you are.” You continue to prod, eyes wide. You realize it as you eat the cake, remembering how Hana has mentioned a certain ‘Hope’ who apparently is about to get the cake instead. You also remember how Hoseok said thank you when you said the cake was delicious.

Hoseok was Hope.

Hoseok was giggling at your serious internal monologue while your brain surely creates an unwarranted mind map between the two names and one person.

“Are you drunk?” Hoseok jokes and you take another bite of the cake and scowl at him. “Speaking of drinks, would you like another glass, I’ll get myself one.” He stands and looks down to where you stay seated, you shake your head and wave your hand to signal him a ‘no, thank you’ before he replies, “Please wait here, I’ll be right back”, and goes his way to the door.

Hoseok stops midway before turning around to go back to you. “Just in case you need to leave and couldn’t wait until I get back,” he pecks you on the lips fast before sprinting towards the door, hoping that being fast would somehow make you stay inside the room.

After a short while, the door opens again and peeks into the room, his face contorted into what shows curiosity before relief washes over him as he sees you still seated on where he last saw you.

“I’m still here.” You wave to him, eyes following his form as he takes his seat again, drink in his hand.

“So, that kiss was like uhm, a deposit.” He clears his throat, eyes searching yours. “I’d like to claim it back, if you wish.” He grins sheepishly and you tip your head back laughing. You shift to your knees, supporting yourself on one hand with the other cupping his face, as you do exactly what he did just moments ago.

When you pull away, he tilts his head back and groans, taking off his jacket.

“What?” You ask, giggling.

“I think it got hotter in here, I don’t know.” He fans himself before he sighs and retreats with his back on the floor, completely laying down making you laugh.

“I think you’re fine, Hoseok.” You laugh, moving to sit near him on the floor before copying his position on the floor and shifting to your side, body turned to him.

“The floor is stiff on my back.” You whisper, shifting on your place as you try to find a comfortable position.

“I like your thinking.” He appraises before he stands up with ease and turns back to you. He stretches out two hands and pulls you up as you reach up to him.

You notice he used more force, not too hard but enough to have your chest press to his once you’re completely up on your feet. As you reach him, he keeps you in place with a hand on your hips, pressing his lips to yours softly, as if not to surprise you.

He pulls away, not leaving too much space between you but enough to allow you to pull back completely if you wish. When he sees no refusal from you, he tilts his head to the side and slots your slips together, this time more firm. You place your hands around his shoulders, your left hand tracing the hair at the back of his head.

You pull away to drag him into bed, your back turned to him but he takes the opportunity to take steps closer into you, crowding into your space. With his chest pressed to your back, he nuzzles into your neck, his hands softly caressing your arms.

You giggle as you lean back to him, “I tickles.” you tell him as you sit on the bed, pulling him towards you and he mutters a little ‘sorry’ although the smile on his face tells otherwise.

“No you’re not.” You huff, he continues to crowd into your face until your back is on the bed and he’s hovering over you.

“Hm. I like this.” He lightly tugs your off-shoulder yellow top, peering down at you. “It’s my favorite color.”

“Is it? Lucky for you I match everything.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He groans and he continues mouthing at your collarbones exposed to him, your body moving with your laughs.

“Let me know when to stop.” He whispers to your ear and you felt ticklish with his breath hitting your skin.

“Eyes up.” You tilt his chin and catch his eyes, slowly he untugs the strings that keep your skirt secured and pulls it down altogether, you assist him without much movement from the two of you.

You pull him closer and kiss him again, tugging his jeans and he pulls away to get it off before returning to his previous position. His eyes never leave yours through the whole accord.

With your senses heightened, you are both hyper aware of your actions and each touch the both of you leave on each other’s has only left you both feeling the hair on your skin rise.

“Still not looking.” He whispers to your lips before slotting them back together, his right hand tracing your hip bones, fingers ghosting over where the line of your underwear rests.

It’s obvious he is trying to get consent even after he’s told you to let him know when to stop. It’s in his looks as he catches your eyes for a few seconds before continuing with what he is about to do next.

He pulls away and grabs something a few steps from the bed. “I’ve felt that I would need this today.” He smiles, in his hands a packet of condoms and lube, before slotting in between your legs only this time, his face is not as close to yours as before.

He softly traces your stomach with gentle fingers, following his own traces with his lips. He continues his movements until he’s mouthing at the waistbands of your underwear, his left hand fumbling with it.

He pulls it off, his fingers trailing after as it runs down your legs. He continues with his ministrations with his hands on your thighs, his presence felt everywhere on your skin. When he gets back up to level his face with yours, he presses his hips to yours and you rest both hands on his hips, tugging on his boxers.

Off it goes and he wraps both of your legs around his waist, at least one hand never leaving your thighs, his lips never leaving yours.

“Ready?” He scans your face for any discomfort and your heart swoons.

A handsome and respectful man? Your heart swelled. .

His hands move with confidence but prove to be gentle as he holds your hips and lines himself up with you.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he slowly eases in, mouth pressed to yours.

You try to not crush him in between your legs as you feel yourself become putty each time he moves, but it proves to be difficult when he moves with practiced ease. He knows how to activate your senses and which actions and movements he could do, sometimes in between intervals and at times a meddling of the two.

You feel yourself sag down onto the bed, his hips continuing his movements, providing you with much pleasure.

Reaching the climax, your legs clamp up on his hips from where it rested on his hide and your arms smoothing down the expanse of his back, unable to apply much pressure as the relief washes over you.

He follows suit, pulling your hips closer to his and stays pressed to each other for a second, before he lets you down gently.

You stay still and connected for a little while, basking in the aftermath of your pleasures. When Hoseok regains his strength and senses, he helps you rest down your thighs to where you would be more comfortable, gentle hands guiding you.

Swoon.

He presses soft kisses to your forehead as you cool down, and quickly finds the thin blanket to cover your body, his eyes never leaving your face.

Soon you feel yourself slowly regain your strength as well. You sit up, holding the blanket to your chest and pick off the underwear from where it was thrown to the edge of the bed. Hoseok gives you privacy as he sits on the other side of the bed, already dressed in everything except for his shoes and his black shirt, back turned to you.

You quickly dress and smooth your hair down from where it was messily tied up.

Your phone buzzes from where you left it on the floor with a text from Hana telling you that she left the place already.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” You say as you stand in front of him.

“Let me get you a ride.” He stands up and you move to the side as he quickly dresses into his shirt and slips into his shoes, leading you back down to where some people, although a little less compared to what they left off a while ago, are still up and drinking.

“I’d drive you, but…” He trails, pertaining to the alcohol he has in his system.

“It’s ok. I can handle myself.” You look up to him and he laughs.

“I know you can. Let me know when you get home.” He says. He gives you a quick peck just before you jog over to where the car was waiting for you.

╫

To: Hoseok I got home safe, thank you!

From: Hoseok That’s good. Would you be free for a late breakfast tomorrow?

To: Hoseok If I wake up before that, yes

From: Nice. Good night :)

To: Hoseok Night, Hope!!!

╫

You do wake up before lunch time. Actually, you wake up way earlier than you should have considering you got home at two in the morning and went to bed at least thirty minutes after.

You contemplate what time to send a text to Hoseok about your meet up when your phone vibrates with a message from another person.

From: Jiwoo You left your subway card here!!! Come get it and I’ll make you breakfast <3

You read the message and sigh. Maybe the late breakfast will be postponed. You text Hoseok informing him that your best friend needs you this morning and ask for a rain check. Thankfully, the nice man takes it well and lets you off easily.

An hour and a half later, you arrive at Jiwoo’s, “Come with me to my room and help me.” She pulls you to the direction of her bedroom. When you get there she hands you the card you apparently left behind.

When you are done helping Jiwoo with an inexistent problem, you come out of the bedroom first while she follows suit, ranting about the mess the party made last night. You hear the door to the guest bedroom open and you stop on your tracks when you look up to the person in front of you, Jiwoo almost knocking on your back on your abrupt stop.

It’s the handsome and respectful guy from last night. Your late breakfast buddy.

Hoseok reacts better than you, face alight with recognition, “Hey!” He greets you and his eyes switch back and forth between you and Jiwoo.

“Oh? You know each other?” Jiwoo takes over and walks in front of you. You follow on autopilot and Hoseok trails behind you.

“Yep.” Hoseok answers.

Yes, if a one night stand counts as ‘knowing each other’.

“Yep. He brought the cake over.” You reply, sitting down on the dinner table.

“Ah, I’ve heard of that from Sowon. He said he was supposed to bring the cake but he had a surprise meeting and he texted my brother instead. Right, Hoseokie?” Jiwoo explains, biting off an apple slice.

Brother? Stress on the question mark.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are related.

Jiwoo and Hoseok are actual siblings.

Jiwoo and Hoseok actually do look like each other if only my brain functioned enough last night.

Your eyes move from Jiwoo to Hoseok, the latter at ease from his seat as if the situation does not bother him as it did to you. It probably doesn’t.

“I think I left my phone in your room.” You say and retreat back upstairs. If they see your phone peeking out from your back pocket, they don’t say anything.

╫

To: Hoseok I DID NOT KNOW ??????

From: Hoseok Sorry?? Do you guys like have some sort of rule or something…

To: Hoseok It does not exist just like my dignity.

From: Hoseok Come back here already Jiwoo’s chill dw

To: Hoseok …

╫

The breakfast went as smoothly as it could. You laughed over and over, enjoying Hoseok's company. Although, it was mostly Hoseok laughing at your despair as you recount the morning you found out Jiwoo and the embodiment of the man of your current dreams are blood-related.

The late breakfast was only a one time thing, with you having research during normal hours and Hoseok balancing a masters and a dance class with his time. You meet on nights your free time would be fitting with his, and on the weekends you get to do more and spend more time, most of it spent with Jiwoo at her apartment. That's when you realize Jiwoo would actually be chill with the whole thing.

Well- Jiwoo was chill with it until she found out that you actually did sleep over at her apartment, seeing you sleeping peacefully with Hoseok cuddled behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

#changeswithluv #bangtanhq #armysource #hyunglinenetwork #bts #bangtan #bts fics #bangtan fics #bts aus #hoseok aus #hoseok fics #mxr #fluff #smut #jhope aus #jhope fics

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kylo-rens-scar · 4 years

Text

Weekend (Clyde Logan x Reader) 6k (!!!)

Note: Two years of extreme on and off writing and now I finally have something! Answering the prompt of “I'm so excited to see this and currently am looking forward! :D How about something fluffy as a good start for the audience?” from @creamyvanillalove Hope you and everyone enjoys it! This is actually part of a series of multiple one-shots I have cooking, because thinking about my dream life with Clyde Logan has been one of the only constants in my life for the past few years.

Sleeping in until 10 am on a Saturday was something rare in the Logan household especially with 22 month old triplets. Clyde came home around 2:30 from the bar and was still sleeping. You kiss him on the cheek and get out of bed, making your way to the bathroom. You throw on some yoga pants and wash your face. It’s surprisingly quiet in the house, and you thank the lord above the boys are still asleep. You have some much needed emails to catch up on.

You walk into the kitchen and turn on the coffee, and start to think what to make for breakfast today. You spot some overly ripe bananas Clyde swore he was going to eat a few days ago when you bought them, and yet there they were. Banana pancakes it is then. The boys are not too picky with breakfast so this would be easy for everyone. And Clyde would finally eat the bananas.

You are finally able to sit down at the dining room table to check your email when the first fussing is heard from matts monitor.

You make your way to his room and slowly open the door to find him standing up in his crib, rubbing his sleepy eyes and scrunching his face

“Good morning sweet boy,” you coo as you grab his glasses and put them on him. He yawns and makes grabby hands up at you and you pick him up. After quickly changing his diaper, you scoop him back up and carry him to the upstairs family room. You put Matt on the couch and turned the tv on quietly to Paw Patrol. Someday, you want to get they boys a dog, but they’re too young. Matt is immediately engaged to what ever show is on and you go back to finally checking your email.

Ben is the next to get up, but he sounds more of screaming bloody murder when he wakes up, something you pray to god he grows out of. And as usual, he’s fine, nothing’s wrong with him. As soon as you open his bedroom door, the screaming stops and regular crying begins. Very typical of Ben. The crying turns into sniffles when you pick him up.

After another quick diaper change, ben is plopped down next to Matt, both now engaged in the morning cartoon. Taking after his father, you know kylo will very much sleep until noon or later, so you let him sleep a little longer, so you can get to those dang emails.

——

About halfway through your inbox, you hear shuffling downstairs, and then slow footsteps up the stairs. He walks up to Matt and Ben an ruffles their hair before sitting down next to you on the couch. They boys were too engaged in to the tv to really notice their father. Clyde puts his arm around you then kisses your temple. You’re finishing up you last reply and smile.

“Where’s kylo?” Clyde yawns.

“Still sleeping, I checked on him when I got the other two up and he was still sound asleep.”

“Hmmph” he grunts as he sips some of his coffee. Clyde isn’t that big of a morning person, especially after a long night at the bar.

You close your computer and and stretch. Y’all have a busy day today and you were pretty sure Clyde didn’t hear you last night about it.

“Honey you and the boys are getting hair cuts this afternoon then we have that football tailgate party with the colwells tonight but before then I have to run to the store and get some things for them. I told Them I’d bring dessert and some tortilla chips. Clyde did you even hear a word I said?”

“Huh? Yeah I got everythin’ what time we leaving?”

“I’m hopin’ by 1:45, your sister said anytime after 1:30 was fine for us to head over to the salon”

“Why ain’t you getting you’re hair done?”

“Because I get mine done during the week when the boys are at daycare”

“Huh”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a little bit, Clyde was still waking up and the boys were still glued to the tv, with occasional chatter from them. It was about 11:15 and you decided to get Kylo up finally. You told Clyde to bring Matt and Ben downstairs for breakfast while you woke up the last triplet.

———

Kylo was sound asleep still when you walked into his room. You opened the binds slowly to let the sunshine in. He stretched and yawned, then standing in his crib with a sleepy smile.

Kylo was the furthest along in potty training. He usually could hold it in at night and sometimes let you know when he had to go. Matt was the next furthest but usually didn’t have a dry night or could hold it in time to tell you. He tries as best he can but gets frustrated a lot. And then Ben showed absolutely no interest yet.

It was another dry night so after you took his diaper off you set him on his training potty. You praised him after he went and you let him put a sticker on the potty poster before heading back down with the rest of your family.

Clyde had Ben sitting on the counter, Matt in one arm and had a carton of eggs in his other hand. Ben was just about to get into the flour before you quickly whisked it away from his reach. Disappointed, Ben huffed and crossed his arms and looked at the ground, something he copied from Clyde a couple months ago. You ruffled his hair and helped Clyde by taking the egg carton and giving him kylo.

“Darlin I had things under control down here, we was just about to start fixin breakfast.” He protested

“You can help by putting the kids in their seats and getting their sippy cups.” You reply, kissing his cheek. “also kylo had another dry night!”

“Good job bud!” Clyde says and kisses his forehead.

With breakfast underway and the boys settled down in their seats, Clyde takes a moment to stare out into the backyard. He noticed the leaves in the tree line were beginning to rust into beautiful crimsons and oranges. Fall is Clyde’s favorite season. The changing of the leaves, cooler days, shorter days, warm drinks, you’d think he’s a basic white girl. Some mornings he’d see some turkey or deer rummaging in the grass, even a black bear once. This morning was quiet out there, nothing to be seen.

“Clyde honey, are you okay? I’ve been callin at ya for the past few minutes” You ask walking up him an putting your hand on his arm.

“Wha? Yea I’m fine darlin’, just zoned out for a lil bit. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologized and kissed your cheek.

“Well breakfast is ready and we got a big day ahead of us.”

———

After breakfast, you take the boys to your bathroom to bathe them and you send Clyde upstairs to get their outfits. You were smart enough the night before when you put the boys to sleep that you had their clothes out and ready.

Bathing three squirmy little boys was something you managed to master very quickly. Each one liked doing their own thing in the bath. Matt enjoys drawing with the bath crayons on the tub wall, Ben likes any kind of bath toys and Kylo prefers the bathtub stickers. Kylo is usually first, then Matt, and finally Ben. As each little one was finished you wrapped them in their towels and sat them on your vanity bench in the bathroom. Most of the time they will sit there and wait for Clyde to get them ready one by one, but sometimes they crawl down and scamper off to the closet and get into trouble. Today was one of those days.

Matt was sitting perfectly content on the bench with Kylo until he spotted his daddy’s shiny new belt buckle on the closet floor. Clyde won it at the fair a few weeks ago in the arm wrestling tournament.

Clyde was still upstairs grabbing the boys clothes at this point and you just started rinsing the shampoo out of Ben’s hair when Matt bounded towards the closet. Kylo was thankfully still on the bench and looked like he wasn’t moving off.

“Matthew James, you best not be getting into trouble in there...” you warn as you finish washing ben.

After discovering the shiny object and carefully inspecting it, Matt decided to run over to show you. But the towel was in the way and Matt tripped on it, causing him face plant straight onto the bathroom rug, followed by crying. You come to his rescue and scooped him into your arms. Clyde is back downstairs and walked into the bathroom to investigate the commotion. Ben and Kylo were wrapped in towels on the bench, both sliding off and shuffling over to Clyde.

“I’ll get these two ready?” He asked, herding the boys out of the bathroom.

“Please, Clyde. We might be a minute” you reply.

Matt has tears streaming down his face, and you see the worst possible place he got a rug burn: his chin. And to top it off, the burn was very much indeed raw. Ouch. Wrapping Matt back up in his towel you sit him down on your counter and open the first aid drawer. His chin and left palm had carpet burns.

“It’s gonna be okay baby, just a couple of little boo boos, hmm?” You try to reassure him.

After the small fiasco and a couple bandaids later, you and Matt emerge from the bathroom, Matt still bundled up in his towel. You hand him over to Clyde, who kissed Matt on the cheek and Clyde started to get him ready while you got dressed and ready yourself.

———

“Darlin I got all three ready to go, should I start loadin everyone in the car yet?” Clyde asked, peering into your closet. You were getting your boots on.

“Yes babe thank you I’ll be right out. I’ll text mellie we’re heading out now.” You nod, grabbing your coat. While making sure you had everything before heading out to the garage, mellie texted back, telling you not to rush. You get out to the suv to see Clyde in the passenger seat, turned around towards the boys with a stern look on his face. As you open the door you are greeted with a chorus of crying.

“BEN QUIT SMACKIN YOUR BROTHER HE AINT DONE NOTHIN WRONG TO YA!” Clyde bellowed to the back seat as you stepped into the drivers seat.

“What in the world has happened in the 10 minutes I was gone? Hmm?” You ask your husband.

“I swear everythin was for fine, Ben started smacking Kylo for lord knows why then Kylo hit back and also took Matt’s stuffed animal and threw it into your footbed.” Clyde motioned towards your feet.

Nodding, you pick up the stuffed animal giving it back to Matt. Like Clyde, you turn around in you seat to look at the boys. “Now, I don’t wanna have any more crocodile tears in this car or for the rest of today, got it?” You chide, elbowing Clyde for support.

“Uhh yeah boys, don’t get momma upset today.” he adds.

Knowing that little pep talk probably did nothing for them, but it was the thought that counts, you face the front again and start up your car. The boys remained quiet, except for the occasional unintelligible babble to one another, which was normal. Clyde was adjusting his prosthetic, humming contently when it was to his liking.

———

When you got to the salon, you saw that Ben had fallen back asleep on the drive. You gently get him out of his seat first and pass him over to Clyde, along with the diaper bag. Matt and Kylo were easy to get out of the car, but Matt insisted on being carried in, not loosening his grip on your top. Locking the car, you and your family walk in to the salon to see mellie near her chair, checking her phone. She looks up to Clyde and immediately comments on his hair.

“Good lord almighty Clyde, you’re growin a mop! According to my records it’s been 8 dang months since you last been here and honey it shows.” She says.

“Now Mellie you and I both know you done cut it too damn short last time so I been lettin it grow out again, short hair don’t suit me. My ears stick out.” Clyde huffed.

“Well then how ya want it done then? Last time you said ‘shorten it up for me, it keeps bothering me at work’ and now you said it was too short!”

“I dunno, just don’t do what ya did last time I guess?!”

“Clyde Logan of you don’t tell me ima buzz all it off!”

“Okay fine then, ask Y/N!”

The both turn towards you, Clyde lookin all worked up and mellie looking annoyed at her brother. You crack a smile and roil your eyes.

“Wet is head down first and then let’s go from there?” You offer.

“Sounds good to me, who’s first?” She replies, looking to all your boys.

“I think we’ll start with mister Matthew, but he’s gonna have to sit on my lap it seems like. He tripped this mornin after bath time, and now he doesn’t wanna go near the floor now.” You sigh, stroking Matts blonde curls.

Matt was very anxious during his haircut, lots of squirming and tears. It’s something that has happened the past couple of times, and you and Clyde were a little concerned. You make a mental note to call the doctor about it. Ben was next and was very good in the chair. He just loved the attention, from Aunt Mellie, Clyde, and you. Kylo was calm too, but his hair grows really slow so he didn’t have much cut.

All three boys had different haircuts, with Kylos the longest and Bens is the shortest, with Matt being in the middle of the two.

Clyde was last to go, you pull up a picture of him from a while back to show Mellie a desired length. Clyde asked to look but both you and his sister declined his request, saying that it was gonna be fine. Clyde argued that it’s his hair and his head so he should be able choose his hair style.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Clyde William Logan I swear on the lord himself, you are actin far worse than the boys right now! Now you need to trust me and your sister and if you don’t we’re gonna just buzz all of it off!” You snap. He sighs in defeat and nods, finally letting go of the whole situation.

After all of the boys had their hair cut and styled, you tried squaring away the bill with your sister in law. That was impossible because all she said “y’all are my family I don’t need to be chargin’ ya’ll!” She laughed.

“You sure? They were extra rowdy I don’t want it to be any trouble to you!” You say, trying to hand her $40.

“oh stop it, you’re gonna start insulting me!” She retorted.

You roll your eyes and put the money back in your wallet. “ Alright then, at least come over for supper one night? It’s the least we can do.” You know mellie can’t resist your beef brisket or your Mac n cheese.

“Oh alright!” She finally agrees.

———

“Darlin are you sure you know where ya goin? I thought cooper and them was on the other side of town,” Clyde commented when you pulled out of the salon.

“No babe they do I just gotta run into the Kroger and grab the chips”

“I thought you was bringing a dessert too?”

“You’re right I am. The boys and I made cookies and brownies yesterday afternoon but I already put them in the back of my car this morning when I woke up. “

“Okay, what kinda cookies y’all bake?”

“Just sugar, the boys helped decorated for about 7 minutes before they got restless so only a few look a little crazy. I did the rest when they went to bed.”

“Ya think I can tell who did what cookies?” Clyde smirks.

“Oh definitely,” you giggle.

Once you guys were pulling into the driveway, you see one of the dogs trailing you to the side of your suv.

“Who is it Clyde? I didn’t catch the fur color too well.” You ask.

“I think it’s Hank, he’s the pointer, right?”

“Yeah he’s the pointer, keep an eye out that he doesn’t get too close to the car.”

“Mommy mommy mommy!” You hear Matt from the back.

“Yes baby what’s the matter?” You glance in the rear view mirror.

“Potty mommy!” He whines.

“Okay okay we’re almost there, you can make it Matt,” you try to encourage him as you pull up to a grassy spot in the side yard.

“If you wanna run him in you can, I’ll try to get everyone else organized.” Clyde offers as you open your door.

“Thank you babe that’d be great,” you say unbuckling Matt.

“Mommy...!” Matt reaches out for you. You grab the diaper bag too and run inside. You say your ‘hey y’all clydes coming in with the boys’ and ‘gimme one second we have a potty situation’ as you b-line it to the powder bathroom with Matthew in you arms.

Before even getting the door closed you see Matt scrunch his face and tense up his body- it was too late. You sigh. Even though he still had his diaper on, you sit him on the toilet to finish and go through with the motion of using the toilet. You still praise him and even flush the toilet together

Matt starts crying when you change him. You have a feeling it’s because he didn’t make it in time again to the toilet. You feel bad for him, you know he is trying his best but he can’t seem to get the hang of letting you or Clyde know in time. It’s just something you will have to work on with him.

“Shh it’s okay baby mommy isn’t upset. I’m happy you let me know you had to go potty,” you try to calm him down. He stops crying after a little bit and you kiss him on the cheek.

You pick Matt up again to carry him to his brothers and the rest of the kids. They were all in the basement playing various things. Ben and kylo were with some older boys playing with trucks. You set Matt down with them and ruffled your other two boys hair before heading back up. All three were entertained with the others so you let them be.

As you headed back up to everyone else you see Clyde talking with cooper and lance. You grab a beer from one of the coolers and walk over to Clyde. He kisses your head and puts his arm around you.

“Didn’t sound good from what I got to hear” he sighed.

“Yeah poor thing didn’t make it again. He needs to tell us sooner, I think he hasn’t connected that he needs to tell us way before versus right before.” You leave it at that.

“Mhmm. I brought everythin in too. Game got pushed to 5:30 cuz rain I think.

“Oh ok.” You respond. You take a sip of beer before properly saying hello to everyone else.

A little into the first quarter you send Clyde down to check on the boys and give them some sippy cups. He comes back up with nothing unusual to report, everyone is still content. With that, you decide to get some food for yourself.

———

At halftime you are talking with Maggie and Carter about the fall carnival at school when you see ben crawling up the stairs and heading straight to you.

“MAMMA MAMMA!!!” He wailed as you picked him up, not sure if he was ok or not.

“Yes little man what��s wrong?” You ask, looking for anything off.

“Food?” He asks, pointing to the counter with all the food.

“Of course baby. Do you know if brothers want food too?” You ask him.

“Yea.” Ben nods, pointing to the other two who were making their way up the stairs too.

You set him back on the ground and walked over to the plates, getting one for each and getting them a few things. All three are at you feet, on their tip toes to see what foods there are. You ignore their begging for straight desserts and chips, and scold at them for trying to reach up for food too.

“Cmon guys, let’s get over to the table” you say as they follow you back to where you were sitting. All three fit on the bench seat together so you helped each one up and gave them their plate. Once they were all eating and have mostly quiet down, you sat back down and took a sip of your beer. Both Maggie and carter looked shocked at what they just watched you orchestrated.

“Girl how in the world do you do it with triplets? It looked like y’all rehearsed this or something before y’all got here! I am so impressed with your patience and mom skills.” Carter laughed.

“Yeah that’s more impressive than the game honestly,” Maggie adds.

“Awe well thanks y’all. I can tell you it’s not always this organized, every once and a while all three seem to be on the same wave length and they’ll listen. And I’m even impressed considering they did not get a chance to nap before getti- Kylo do not grab food off Matt’s plate you have the exact same thing on yours!” You snapped over to the boys.

“See? It’s not always perfect.” You suppressed a giggle.

———

After the game was over, everyone still stayed behind a little while longer to socialize and help clean up. The kids were all back downstairs watching a movie, with most of young ones passed out on the floor with some blankets.

You head downstairs about 10 to see how your boys were. Sure enough they were still up, eyes glued to the tv. Getting them ready for church tomorrow was going to be fun.

You head back up to get Clyde to help you get the kids. He yawns and follows you down, stealing a kiss at the stairs landing. You turn the lights on downstairs and announce to all the kids it time and Clyde added “yea y’all better hurry I heard y’all’s parents are gonna leave without ya!” He says with a straight face. All the kids scramble up to their own parents, all with looks of fear of being left.

“CLYDE WHATCHA TELLIN MY KIDS DOWN THERE??” You two hear lance yell down. Clyde bursts into a roar of laughter.

You and Clyde gather your three and their shoes, which unfortunately happened to be littered all around the basement.

“Momma?”

“Yes kylo?” You respond as you put his other shoe on.

“Go home now?”

“Yes we’re all going home now.”

“Oh okay.”

You get all the boys in their seats and start the car, Clyde still saying his goodbyes to everyone. The boys were overtired and grumpy, Matt surprisingly the worst. Clyde opens the backseat door to put the leftovers on the floor when Matt screams and tries to kick and push Clyde away from him. Ben and kylo start crying as a response.

“Ow- Matthew quit it!!” Clyde says and shuts the door, retreating to the passenger seat. “What in the hell is up with him and the other two?” Clyde asked you.

“No nap today. Get your seatbelt on so we can go. These three need to go to sleep. “ you plead.

The drive home was fun to say the least. All three boys did not fall asleep in the car and were fussy when y’all got home. You get the boys upstairs and ready for bed while Clyde gets them sippy cups of milk.

Once all three were changed for bed, Clyde was upstairs helping you get each one settled in their cribs. Kylo was the first to go down. Once he had his sippy cup he got super sleepy and was asleep in no time. Matt was next and was overtired to the point he didn’t want th lay down. He just stood up in his crib and sobbed, wanting to be picked back. You and Clyde felt bad but knew if you picked him back up it would only make it worse. You kissed his forehead and put his sippy cup in his crib with him and you let him hash it out by himself. Ben was fast asleep in clyde’s arms when he handed him to you. You kiss him on the cheek before setting him down.

With all the baby monitors on and alert, you and your husband head back down to your room. All the monitors were quiet, even Matt’s which meant he gave up and went to sleep. You sigh and kick your boots off, walking in your bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clothes. Clyde went off into the kitchen which meant he either went for a glass of milk or a late night snack before bed. You changed into one of his big old T-shirts he doesn’t wear that much. Partially because it’s neon green and well, Clyde doesn’t wanna look like a damn highlighter in public. He only wears it sometimes if he’s doing yard work or sick at home. All the other times it’s in your pajama drawer. Clyde doesn’t understand how that god ugly shirt looks so adorable on you, even if it goes to right above your knees and you practically are swimming in it.

You quietly head to the kitchen to see Clyde halfway through a pb&j. You lean against the island across from him and watch him eat.

“Did you not eat over there during the game?” You ask genuinely curious. Not only was there the typical game day bites, but there were also burgers and hot dogs on the grill.

“I did, I just wanted a little something before bed, wanna a bite?” He offers.

“No thank you, I’ll be in bed. Don’t forget to turn off the lights out here before coming into the bedroom.” You say, standing on your tip toes to kiss his cheek before head you the bedroom.

———

You’re settled in bed on Pinterest when Clyde walks in, leaving a trail of his clothes to the bed wearing only his boxers. He takes his prosthetic arm off and carefully places it on his night stand before getting into bed. You shut your phone off and turn to face Clyde, scooting close to him too. He leans to kiss you and you only scoot even closer to him. You drape an arm over his waist and tangle your legs with his.

“We goin to church tomorrow mornin’?” He asks, his hand starting to wander down your side.

“Not until after lunch for evening service. The boys don’t have bible nursery tomorrow morning and I already said we might not be there until the afternoon,” you say.

Clyde grunts in satisfaction with your answer. He was hoping to not have to wake up early for church.

His hand settles for your hip and he kisses your forehead. You exchange I love yous and both of you fall asleep rather quickly, in each other’s arms.

You two are both awakened to the crying coming from a monitor. You roll onto your back and rub your eyes before looking to see which child it is. You look and see it from bens, so you head upstairs to see what the fuss is all about, Clyde close behind you. Coming into his room you see his stuffed animal fell out of the crib, away from his reach. You pick up the toy and pick up ben too, kissing him on the cheek. He wraps an arm around your neck and holds the stuffed animal with the other, when you see Clyde walk in after checking the other two.

He mouths an “all good” with a thumb up, indicating Matt and kylo were still asleep. Ben quickly falls back asleep in your arms, so you put him back in his crib and head back downstairs with Clyde.

Back in bed, Clyde laid on his back while you curled up under his arm. You two fell back to sleep almost instantly.

———

The next morning, you are woken up by Clyde sliding into bed-with kylo in his arms. You blink again to see if you were still sleeping, but sure enough Clyde was putting kylo down in your bed, with ben and Matt, who were also still sleeping You close you eyes and try to fall back asleep for a little bit longer. Ben woke up first, Clyde picking him up and holding him on his lap.

“Daddy, mommy sleeping?” You hear Ben ask.

“Yeah buddy we gotta stay quiet for mommy” Clyde replied, whispering and putting a finger over his lips for him to be quiet. Ben nods.

You managed to doze back off for about 45 minutes until you feel someone crawl over you.

Barely open an eye to see its kylo, staring intensely at your face.

“Mamma? You sleeping?” He asks, poking your cheek.

“Yes baby, mommy is sleeping!” You exaggerate and flip over to you back and cover your eyes and loudly fake snore. You hear three little giggles you continue to loudly snore until you feel the other two crawl on top of you. All three were bursting with laughter as they sat on top of you. You finally exaggerate a yawn and a stretch, rubbing your eyes and acting completely surprised when to see the boys on top of you.

“What are ALL three of y’all doin!? How’d y’all get in mommy and daddy’s bed?!” You say with a fake surprised voice and look up at your husband. Clyde looked away towards the window and took an innocent sip of coffee.

————

For a moment, you thought about just not going to church today. You could say Clyde or one of the boys are sick, or even yourself. The idea was nice, but wouldn’t sit well with your conscience as the day went on. Clyde was in a good mood today, something you rarely see on a Sunday. He never cared too much for church, thought it was a waste of a day for getting dressed and then being packed into a room with people. A lot of Sunday’s it was just you and the boys who went to morning service, with Clyde showing up for lunch and afternoon activity/service. Clyde would get home at sometimes 3 in the morning from the bar so you let him sleep in.

“Babe you want me to get you coffee? Clyde offers, you nod in response. The 5 of y’all were still in bed, all cuddled up watching a Disney movie. The boys wanted to watch Tangled- for about the 15th time this past month.

“Momma? Has some?” Matt asks you, pointing at the coffee Clyde just handed you.

“No baby you can’t have any,” you calmly reply, taking a sip yourself.

“Why?” Matt presses, pouting a little.

“It’s very hot and not good for little boys” you answer.

“Why?” He asks again. You sigh, ready to answer again when Clyde butts in.

“Mommy said no Matthew,” he sternly warns him, knowing this may develop into a tantrum or the other two will get involved. It’s the later.

Ben and kylo turn to you and Clyde, now curious to try both of your coffees, with Matt still wanting the coffee too.

You look at Clyde dead in the eyes and raise a brow. “You’re coffee cooled down?” You ask him. He narrowed his eyes at you and nods, not sure of your little scheme. Clyde takes his coffee black, while you on the other hand have cream and heaps of sugar. You know if the boys tried yours they would enjoy it but if they had your husbands they most certainly would not ask to try it again for a long time.

“Alright alright y’all win, you can try Daddy’s coffee! But be careful, it’s a little hot!” You warn and Clyde hands you his mug. “Matthew you can try it first ok?” You say as Matt scoots up to you. You grab the spoon from your mug and swirl it around clydes coffee before gathering a small sip on the spoon for Matt. He took an eager sip and immediately spit it back out, all over your pajamas. He scrunches his face and you start to see some waterworks. You smile ever so slightly and Clyde chuckles and takes his coffee back. You hold Matt’s face and look at him. “See baby? Mommy said you wouldn’t like it, but you wanted to try it, which is ok! I’m glad you tried it, now you know that it’s icky.” You praise him. He nods and hugs your arm.

“Kylo? Ben? Do you want to try daddy’s coffee?” You ask the other two, both surprisingly nodding. With Matt still holding onto your arm you have Clyde hold the coffee mug while you used the spoon to feed them the coffee. Kylo just made a sour face and pushed the spoon and mug away after he tried it. Ben took the whole spoonful and spit it up on you, then threw a fit.

“Benjamin why are you upset? Was it daddy’s coffee?” You ask, watching him roll around sobbing. You see him nod a little. “Is there a way mommy or daddy can help?” He nods again. “Baby use your words so we know what you want,” you encourage him. He lifts his head from the bed and rubs his face.

“Cuddles... Daddy,” he finally says.

“You want to cuddle with daddy?” You confirm.

“Yea,”

“C’mere bud,” Clyde offers his arm and pulls Ben into his lap. Clyde kisses his forehead once he settles. Kylo decided he wanted in on this family cuddle pile and makes his way right in between you and Clyde. Matt stopped crying too and was still curled up in your lap. You still had spit up coffee on your shirt. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling but you ignored it because you and your family were cozy, watching the same Disney movie for the umpteenth time and you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

#clyde logan x reader #clyde logan #logan lucky #solo triplets #kinda??#possum writes #clyde logan imagine

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