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guqin-and-flute · 3 years ago

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Modern 3zun/A-Fu Verse--Baby Acquisition Continuation

[Part 1] [Modern A-Fu Verse] [AO3 Series]

[Crediting @little-smartass with a lot of the characterization/story beats because I’m positive we’ve had a conversation about this at some point]

“He really is as bald as a little cue ball, isn’t he?”

It took Meng Yao several seconds to register that words had been spoken, another to parse the words, then another to tear his gaze up from the pile of early childhood development books he was accumulating in his lap, color coded tabs bristling from the edges. Da-ge was sprawled in the corner of their enormous sage green couch in his slacks and undershirt, bathed in the ghostly, swimming glow of the TV on mute. He was looking down fondly at the newborn tucked into the crook of his arm, fast asleep with his fist shoved up against his face.

A newborn that was, in fact, very bald. And so very tiny.

“Is that normal? Is that a sign of something?” Meng Yao began to anxiously dig around in the plush crevices of the armchair he was folded into for his phone, preparing to search something along the lines of ‘is baby baldness bad??’

On the other half of the L of the couch from Mingjue, Xichen sucked in a shuddering breath through his nose, making them both freeze and look over. But all he did was sigh in his sleep and return to his motionless sprawl where he had collapsed about an hour and a half ago when Mingjue forcibly removed the baby from his arms and insisted he lay down. “Just for 5 minutes,” Meng Yao had also reasoned in a two pronged attack. “No one says you have to nap. Just close your eyes for a bit, then you can take him again while Da-ge makes dinner, if you want.”

Of course, he had fallen asleep immediately as they all had known he would. But one had to give Xichen explicit permission and then a backup compromise and then incentive before he considered doing something so selfish as making sure he wasn’t dead on his feet, even after a day of running errands with an 7 day old who was still suffering from stomach upset from travel. Meng Yao and Mingjue were long since practiced in being able to maneuver around his particular aversion of self care.

When their eyes met again, Mingjue’s were crinkled and he teased in a lower voice, “Being bald is a sign of being an infant, A-Yao. You really know nothing about babies, do you?”

Meng Yao aggressively squashed back the automatic bridling that happened every time a flaw in his...anything was pointed out. Instead, he primly brandished a pastel yellow book with curlicue flowers around the edge. “I am learning.” It’s not my fault I obtained all my siblings after adolescence. Not for lack of trying...

“I’m telling you, most of those are gonna be useless. Everyone’s got something to say and it’s all going to be different. You’re better off just winging it,” Mingjue stage whispered dismissively, rolling his eyes. “It’s just until Xichen’s uncle gets the custody stuff all worked out, so he’ll be gone before you know it. Just enjoy the baby-head smell while he’s here.”

The what? He narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re making fun of me.”

For some reason, a grin spread over Da-ge’s face--a delighted, self satisfied grin. “Oh.” He got up--(”Don’t wake him up--” Meng Yao hissed, stiffening, remembering his disconcerting little mewling cries from Xichen’s return from the store)--and easily cupped the infant up to his shoulder as he crossed the thick cream carpeting.

“Make room, come on,” Mingjue whispered, grabbing a stack of books in one large hand and carelessly tossing them onto the basket of neatly folded throw blankets beside the armchair.

Lips pursed and fully harassed, now, Meng Yao neatly piled the remaining books down by the leg of the chair. “Why do you insist--” When he sat back up, he immediately almost fumbled the armful of baby that was thrust into them. But Mingjue seemed to have been ready for this, because he just kept pressing him into his chest until Meng Yao’s hold came up automatically to support him.

The baby was warm and very soft, with no tension in him at all as he slept. And so light--almost like some sort of doll. It was hard to believe he was a real, living human being instead of some sort of strange hairless animal. Baxia had more heft, for god’s sake and she was a cat.

For some reason, Meng Yao’s heart rate immediately spiked as if he were being chased. His palms and neck began to sweat. It’s not like he hadn’t held the child in the day that he had been here, he just...well, he actually hadn’t. He hadn’t held any child before--his nephew wasn’t quite born yet and he had never been in a foster home with a baby. All yesterday and last night, he had shadowed Mingjue while he changed the diapers, observing techniques such as ‘The Turkey Hold’ and ‘Tissues Before Wet Wipes’. He had noted the ease with which Xichen just palmed him belly down like a fragile little football while packing the lunches Mingjue had assembled for him and Meng Yao to take to work, or patiently maneuvered his little sausage limbs in and out of clothes like he wasn’t afraid of breaking him.

And they certainly weren’t keeping him from Meng Yao--but he was still researching and information gathering while they had plenty of experience. And the stakes seemed absurdly high to chance a failure with this particular subject He hadn’t been avoiding it, just...he was sure the opportunity would present itself. Eventually.

His face was round and slightly alien in its minute proportions; a perfect miniature of a proper nose, a fine dusting of eyebrows above completely smooth little eyelids, a tiny squinch of a mouth that had fallen open in sleep. And he sort of smelled like...slightly sour milk and the floral baby detergent Xichen had bought. Nothing that special.

Cautiously, Meng Yao attempted a gentle joggle with his arms, then froze when those little fingers flexed and the baby made a noise, halfway between a snort and a grunt, but so tiny. How on earth did anything this tiny and helpless even exist? How was he allowed to hold something that had this much potential? This much importance? His father wouldn’t even let him touch his fountain pen at the office--how would he ever let Meng Yao hold his heir? “A-Yao, breathe,” Mingjue’s whisper was nearby and amused and when he looked up at him, Meng Yao saw his face was close, leaning down, hands braced on both arms of the chair. Blocking escape.

“I think you should take him back,” Meng Yao hurriedly whispered back. “I don’t think he likes me. He’s going to wake up and cry.”

Mingjue shrugged. “He might.”

Anxiety, old and choking, rose up in his throat like bile, like failure. “Then take him back.”

The asshole just raised his eyebrow. “No. If he does, it’s not the end of the world. Calm down, smell his head.”

“I can smell him just fine from here, I--”

“Smell his head, I’m telling you--”

“Mingjue--” he hissed, baring his teeth, instinctively looking over at the sleeping Xichen to be the tie breaker and peacemaker, but Mingjue just put the back of his fingers to Meng Yao’s cheek and (gently. Always gently.) pushed his face toward the tiny round head tucked to his shoulder.

Stiffly, he gave a grudging, perfunctory sniff, intending to follow the exact letter of the order and not the spirit, because if he was going to be forced--

Oh. Oh. What? Pressing his nose closer, he breathed in properly. What on earth...

His head did smell different from the old spit up and detergent. Warm and--and--almost sweet but not, somehow mild and calming? It felt familiar, even though it wasn’t. How was this unwinding something in his chest? Without intending to, he breathed out through his mouth in order to hastily draw in another breath, deep and slow. It smelled like... sleep and home and softness. Comfort. And he did have hair, actually--downy little fluff, close to the scalp, soft like velvet when he pressed his lips to it to take a third breath. How did the top of his head smell so good? Was it the baby soap they had used? No, it wasn’t, because he could smell traces of that, soapy and artificial. This was something completely organic that somehow exuded from his scalp?

Mingjue chuckled above his head and Meng Yao opened his eyes--that he didn’t even remember closing. He knew he should probably feel more annoyed at his partner’s smugness but the tension that had been humming through him seemed to have utterly bled away. “There, now, was that so hard?”

“What...is it?” he murmured against the baby’s head, unable to tear his nose away.

“Baby-head smell.”

“Baby-head smell?”

“Mm.”

“Do they--do they all smell like this?”

“More or less. It’s so we don’t eat them when they wake us up in the middle of the night, probably. Hormones and shit.”

“Has someone bottled this? Made it into a candle?” He whispered, affronted. “Is this known?” None of the early childhood development books he had read even alluded to the fact that baby heads apparently smelled like magic. “Does Xichen know?”

Mingjue snorted. “Of course you consider marketing. Yeah, most people who’ve handled babies know about the baby-head smell, so now you do, too. Instant stress relief.”

It was. It was like a drug, how instantaneously it worked. Meng Yao greedily breathed in again, cupping his tiny head closer to him. He could feel the thrum of his heart through his back against his forearms.

Mingjue huffed a fond laugh through his nose and smoothed his hand heavily down Meng Yao’s hair, swaying them both gently as one. “See? Not so scary. Now sit there and relax with baby. I’ll make us all dinner.”

Meng Yao could do that--and quite happily.

#modern 3zun #jgy #nmj #lxc #3zun #also yes the baby is A-Fu he just doesn't have a name yet #I wanted to give them a baby and give them a chance to name him because they don't have either opportunity in the other AU #ALSO GOD I MISS BABIES ;A;#Well it wouldn't be a JGY POV without the shadow of a panic attack but I FIXED IT QUICK #THIS IS A FUN AU. FUN FUN FUN #my stuff #my fic #'he's just here for a little while' suuuuuuure Mingjue >.>

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years ago

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The 12 Nights of Christmas: Day 7.

Ngh…

Weatherwoman: For this week’s forecast, we’re expecting the temperature to drop even further. From the looks of things, we could be going down the road to a potential snowstorm hitting us.

Oh, how wonderful. Shame that your weather machines are a load o’ SHITE!

I could make a machine that predicted the weather 100% in my sleep ya’ lose-

*COUGH!* *SPLUTTER!* *COUGH!* *COUGH!* *SPLUTTER!*

*Miu starts to choke, grabs a tissue and blows her nose.

Don’t matter to me anywho…Not like I can go anywhere.

[Flashback]

From what I hear, ever since we made it back from the island, your body hasn’t had time to adjust to the cold temperature after being in the blazing hot sun.

And yet you still go out at night to test out your inventions. It’s no wonder you caught a cold.

I don’t mean to scold you, but please, for all our sake, take it easy on yourself.

Ngggh! It’s so fucking annoying!

I’m half tempted to fight through it and get back to work, but I’ll collapse if I try to…No doubt about it.

…Haaah…haaaah…!

UGH! FUCK IT-

*COUGH!* *COUGH!* *COUGH!* I-I’m goin’ out…

*Despite Kirumi’s prior warning, Miu gets up, puts on a mask and makes her way to the front door.

…

*However, she goes very slowly, and the front door to her apartment seems farther than usual.

Neegh…

*She opens the door, and is about to step outside, when suddenly…

Oh no you don’t!

Weeh!?

So…You really were going to go out and test your new inventions, despite your poor health.

What did I tell you? Spend enough time with Miu, and you’ll learn how she thinks. It’s hard to get her to listen to you when you tell her anything.

That being said, it seems we arrived in the nick of time.

The hell…*sniff* are you two doing here?

We brought you food and energy drinks, courtesy of Teruteru Hanamura.

We found out you’d fallen ill from Gonta. Knowing you Miu, even though you’re sick, I figured you hadn’t been eating all that well.

Kirumi’s busy with other tasks, so I told her that Emeleven and I will take care of you in her place.

You have done a lot to help BeeZero and myself. You clean and maintain our bodies without asking, and you’re always updating our functions and providing us with new one’s.

Since you have taken such good care of us, we are “returning the favor” as they say.

Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.

H-Hey! You guys!

Ngh…I can’t believe I just let them do this…

In any normal situation, I would respect your wishes…

But that was the mistake I made back at the tower. If I leave you to your own devices, you could land yourself in trouble.

Also, BeeZero insisted upon it, so even if I did not agree, I would have complied.

Well, now that I think about it…I guess I should be sayin’ thanks…

You are welcome. Now, open your mouth.

*Mii-Yu sticks a cold pack to Miu’s head, and spoon feeds her cold medicine. As she does, Keebo sticks his head in from the kitchen.

Miu? Where do you keep the oven mitts?

Huh? Uh…I dunno…Kirumi’s usually the one who does the cooking. Hold on lemme…

Ah, no, no, stay where you are, I’ll find them myself.

*Keebo goes back into the kitchen after assuring Miu to stay put.

Sorry if this is robophobic or some shit but…Do you guys even need to use oven mitts? Since you’re made of metal, don’t you like, conduct the heat or something?

It is not because the food is hot that we wear oven mitts.

Keebo, off-screen: To put it simply, we’re not made of the same metal as knives and forks, and I don’t want your food to be metal poisoned.

…I’d pry, but I don’t even have the energy.

Lie down. We will take care of it.

*Mii-Yu rests Miu down and enters the kitchen to help Keebo.

Did you find the oven mitts?

I found SOME oven mitts. Conveniently there are two pairs.

*Keebo takes out a pair of oven mitts. Keebo wears one pair and Mii-Yu wears the other. Mii-Yu’s pair are significantly larger.

…Scanning.

S-Scanning what?

…Hm…These mitts are a peculiarly large size. They look less like oven mitts, and more like baseball gloves.

If I was to take a guess, I’d say the pair you’re wearing belong to Gonta. He lives here too after all.

Yes. I arrived at the same conclusion. And after analyzing the pattern and size of the pair you are wearing, I presume they belong to Kirumi.

After all, compared to the one’s I am wearing, these are significantly less worn, implying they are used more.

Sharp eye you’ve got there.

Hm…It’s strange that Miu doesn’t have a pair. I know she moved out recently, but I don’t remember her taking any oven mitts out of the apartment with her.

I have done a quick analysis of the possible reasons, and have concluded that there are three most likely reasons among a selection of several.

Alright, hit me, what’ve you got.

Reason 1: Considering Kirumi and Miu used to live together, Kirumi was the one who did most of the cooking in the house. Therefore, Miu had no reason to cook, and thus didn’t think it appropriate to get her own pair of gloves.

Good point. What else?

Reason 2: Miu is a bad cook, and thus doesn’t try to make meals.

Hm…I’d like to defend her and say that her food is good, but I can’t taste it…

And Reason 3 [The reason I consider to be the most likely]: she does not wear gloves when she cooks because she is sensualized by the burning pain she feels when she touches the pot.

I…I’d think that as pretty ridiculous usually, but since it’s Miu we’re talking about…

Other reasons include: not being smart enough to realize she can wear gloves, banned from the kitchen after setting it on fire multiple times and-

Ah!?

*Mii-Yu is cut off as a thud is heard outside, when Miu throws something against the wall.

Miu: You ironclad fucks know that I can hear you, right!? *COUGH!* Gahh!

S-Sorry Miu.

Apologies.

The food is ready. I added a lot of ginger to help with the cold.

Be careful. It is hot.

Mngh…Thanks you guys…What’d you make me anyways?

Soup and udon.

Thankfully, we don’t have tear ducts, nor an ability to cry, so cutting onions is no problem for us!

Alright, I’ll take that.

*Already feeling better, Miu carefully starts to eat her meal.

…

W-Well?

Woah! This is actually super good!

R-Really?

Yeah! I mean, it’s no Kirumi or Teruteru, but it’s way better than I thought it would be!

To be honest, I didn’t even know you knew how to cook. And before you say anything, I’m not saying that because you’re a robot.

I know you better than that. And believe me, I’ve studied a lot. If there’s something I don’t understand, I study it until I know everything I need to about it.

That’s…impressive.

Well, no offense Miu, but people aren’t born as geniuses, like you seem to think so.

…

According to my database, at this point in time, a certain line should be said in response to getting good food…

“BeeZero. You will make a wonderful wife someday.”

Um…I appreciate it, but I think if it’s towards me, it doesn’t apply.

Psh, says you. You could be a malewife for all we know. Haha-

*COUGH!* *SPLUTTER!* Gah! Here I was thinking I was over the cough…

I believe it’s best that you get some rest now.

Agreed. I believe we’ve stayed long enough. The road to recovery is up to you now.

Just…stay in bed, alright? If you try to leave, we’ll need to tie you down.

That sounds pretty fun actually~

Miu, I’m being serious.

Alright, alright already, I won’t leave.

Alright…

*Keebo and Mii-Yu get to their feet, and get ready to leave.

Keebo! Mii-Yu! I’m…

I’m sorry you guys went out of your way to come take care of me…

As I already said, this is “returning the favor” After all the help you have provided us, this is the least we could do in exchange.

She’s right. And even if that wasn’t a factor, we should help each other out at times like this. It’s just the natural thing to do.

It’s not just us either. Kaede, Kirumi, Shuichi and all the others are worried about you. Make sure you get better, for our sake, ok?

…Alright…

Get some rest now. And make sure to give me a phone call should anything be wrong.

*Miu nods, and closes her eyes.

[A few hours later]

…?

*Miu sits up in bed after taking a long rest.

Well…my fever’s gone down at least…

*She removes the ice pack from her head and goes to the first aid cabinet to get herself a new one. However, before she can, she suddenly notices something on the coffee table.

Hm?

*She picks up the piece of paper.

To Miu Hopefully by the time you’re reading this, you would have recovered well enough on your own. If you’re still not feeling 100%, then I suggest you take a few more days off. Make sure to call me if you need anything. Yours Faithfully -Keebo.

…Heh. And this is why you’re my favorite.

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa new world order #drnwo #miu iruma #kirumi tojo #keebo #k1-b0 #miiyu #m11-yu #kiiruma #12 nights of christmas arc

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makoodlesarchive · 5 years ago

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learning curve

Yes hello we’re back with another installment of dragon dick kiri lmao sorry if ur getting bored of this but i’m obsessed

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, dragon dick kiri, uhhhh lots of cum?

Tip Jar! || dragon dick kiri masterlist

this takes place in between part one and part two!

»»————-　♡　————-««

Intimacy with Kirishima comes with somewhat of an adjustment period. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering his inexperience with sex in general and your inexperience with sex involving cocks that look as though they’ve been pulled from the pages of an overzealous erotic fantasy novel, but your first time together had gone so well and had been so effortlessly sexy that you had come to the conclusion that every time would be like that.

You were, tragically, wrong.

The second time you two try to have sex (four days after the first time, because you had been walking funny for days afterwards) had been cut short because Kirishima had gotten it into his head that he came too quickly the first time, and he was determined to hold out for as long as possible the second time so he could make you feel good. It was incredibly sweet, in theory, but in practice it resulted in him straining so hard to avoid his oncoming orgasm that he accidentally bit through his lip. The sight of blood had set you panicking, and any sexual action was quickly cut short in favour of scrambling for tissues.

The third time, you had thought that it would be a cute idea to join Kirishima in the shower when he had returned from a long day of work. It had started out innocent enough, but then the inevitable hand-wandering had started and before you knew it Kirishima had hauled you up against the shower wall. What you had expected to be an effortlessly steamy experience turned into the two of you snorting with laughter as you realised that every time you rubbed against each other resulted in the most unsexy squelching noises thanks to your wet skin and the spray of the water. Determined to compromise, you slid to your knees and grinned up at him from your position between his legs. You were probably squinting pretty unattractively so you could see through the shower spray, but Kirishima was so excited that he didn’t seem to notice.

He was, in fact, too excited -- within moments of you wrapping your lips around the head of his dick he shivered hard and swayed a little on his feet, only to slip on the slick wet ceramic tiles in the shower. Having the entirety of your boyfriends vast, heavily muscled body weight come crashing down on you while you were in such a vulnerable position was terrifying, made even worse by the fact that his enormous dick damn near pistol whipped you across the face. You’re not sure who was shrieking the loudest as you both writhed in the perilously enclosed space of the shower, limbs tangled together and blinded by water, but either way the crash from the fall and subsequent screeching was enough to summon Bakugou, who showed his concern by hammering on the bathroom door and roaring at you to shut the hell up.

In the days following that particular incident, a tender bruise blooms across your cheekbone from where Kirishima’s dick had slapped you. It’s pretty sore to touch, but it’s not the biggest deal ever and honestly you find it kind of funny -- plus, it’s not like it’s Kirishima’s fault that he’s got a cock like a lead pipe.

Kirishima, on the other hand, does not find it funny. Every time he catches sight of the bruise on your face his expression twists up into a guilty little grimace and he can’t quite meet your eyes. It doesn’t help that people keep asking about it, and even though you’re able to wave off any questions that come your way with a grin, you notice Kirishima shrinking a little every time. You try to convince him that it’s no big deal and it didn’t even hurt that much (which was a lie, because at the time you seriously thought that it was gonna take an eye out), but he still frets constantly and his new reluctance to touch you is obvious. You can’t lie, it’s disappointing. But as disheartening as your apparent inability to fuck your boyfriend without incurring bodily harm is, you can only imagine that it’s so much worse for Kirishima considering that the amount of times he’s gone all the way with anyone can be counted on one hand, and the amount of times he’s been successful in that can be counted on one finger.

“It’s seriously no big deal, Eiji,” you insist, trying to sound encouraging and positive but instead just sounding wheedling. You can’t be blamed, really, when you’re lying on your boyfriend’s bed in your underwear and desperately hoping he’ll be willing to try again. “Everyone has sex mishaps!”

“I could have knocked you out!” Kirishima shoots back from where he’s standing in front of his closet with his head stuck in a mountain of clothes as he tries to pretend to be busy sorting laundry. You’re not a total idiot though, you can see the little peeks he keeps throwing you over his shoulders.

“Oh please, you could not have knocked me out with a little slap from your dick.” you scoff. You wonder internally if he could, in fact, have knocked you out, and you reluctantly come to the conclusion that he probably could if he hit you in the temples or something. Then again, his dick was insanely sensitive, and you’re pretty sure that the impact of it slapping your face hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“I gave you a black eye!”

“It was a bruised cheekbone, stop being dramatic!” You sit up so you can look at him properly, but his back is still stubbornly turned towards you. “Hey. Eijirou, come on. Look at me.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, but he finally puts down the socks he was pretending to be preoccupied with and turns to face you. “The first time- it was so, so good, and I don’t want to disappoint you with how… bad I am at all this-”

“Hey, stop.” you slip off the bed, kneeling down beside him in the mound of laundry. “You’re not bad at sex. I mean,” you amend thoughtfully, “You don’t have much experience. No one expects you to be a sex god right off the bat! You’re being too hard on yourself. Plus, I guess with what you’re packing there’s bound to be a learning curve, right?”

Kirishima snorts, and finally turns to look at you. “A learning curve.” He repeats, a grin beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” you say stubbornly, “We’ve learned lots already. I can’t have your dick in my mouth too long or I’ll dislocate my jaw. You really like it when I suck on the swollen part at the bottom of your dick. Your teeth are really sharp and you should avoid biting at all costs. And shower sex is a no go. Oh, and I should avoid getting clocked in the face by your cock, because that shit hurts.”

That pulls a short little laugh out of him, which is exactly what you had been hoping for. You grin, energised by that particular success, and when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek you happily wind your hands into his hair. “Thanks for being patient with me.” he murmurs, a little bashful and so, so sweet.

You kiss the tip of his nose in return and wonder if your heart will ever get used to seeing him like this, all soft and smiley and blushy. You hope not; you hope you get to keep these fluttery feelings forever. “Of course,” you say quietly, afraid to break the moment, “We’ve had a few little accidents, but even if I could go back and redo them I wouldn’t. Not every time is gonna be perfect, but who cares? I like you, and I enjoy my time with you. That’s all that matters.”

Kirishima’s eyes blow wide and he clutches at his chest dramatically, lower lip trembling. “Baby… that was so romantic.”

“Oh, shut up.” you pull away, rolling your eyes defensively. Being all earnest and emotionally vulnerable is embarrassing; you have no idea how Kirishima can pull it off like it’s nothing.

“I mean it,” Kirishima insists, following after you, “That was really romantic. And I needed to hear it.”

You smile, pleased. “Good. Now stop being so hard on yourself. We’re in this together, and we will figure out how to master sex with your dick.”

He huffs a laugh even as he scratches at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Need to get on top of that learning curve, huh?”

“The only way to learn is by doing.” you coo at him and then playfully wiggle your hips. You probably look more ridiculous than seductive, but your primary aim is to get Kirishima feeling comfortable.

It works, and a bright smile begins to work its way over Kirishima’s face. When he reaches for you, you press into his touch eagerly. “Wow, you’re really that eager for another sex disaster with my weird dick?”

“Don’t jinx it,” you insist, snaking your hand down the front of his sweatpants until you reach his dick. He’s gone without his usual jockstrap today since it was just the two of you in his room, so you can feel every ridge and bump through the soft jersey fabric. “Besides, I love your weird dick.”

He laughs at that, but presses his crotch into your hand nonetheless. As usual, his dick is filling out pretty rapidly, and there’s a growing wet patch where the head of his cock is beginning to leak precum. “Bed.” he suggests quietly, helping you to your feet and tugging you over to lie down on the sheets with him. When you’re settled comfortably on the bed he pauses, hovering over you and just smiling.

This is always one of the best parts; the transition from chaste little kisses to heated touches, and the moments in between where Kirishima will look at you with the softest expression of pure reverence. When you reach up and touch his cheek he turns his face into your touch and nuzzles three quick kisses onto your fingers, smiling all the while. You grin back at him, delighted by the relaxed set of his shoulders; you have a good feeling about this. Surely this time will be successful and break the string of bad luck you’ve been having.

Apparently encouraged by your excited smile, Kirishima drops down to give you an open-mouthed kiss. You lean into it, looping your arms around his neck and hiking one of your thighs up over his hip to try and encourage him closer. The soft intimacy of the moment makes your breath catch in your throat just a little; it feels like every square inch of your skin is tingling from the anticipation of waiting for his touch, straining towards him as his fingers skim along your bare thigh so gently that the touch sends goosebumps rippling along your arms. The hand on your thigh adjusts, gripping firmly and pulling your leg further up on his hip so that both of your crotches are pressed together.

The outline of his cock through his sweatpants is hot and heavy, and when he starts up little rocking motions of his hips the hard length of it rubs up against your clit. Even through the fabric of his joggers and your panties the stimulation sends frissons of heat arcing up your spine and leaves you wound up and impatient for more. Luckily, you know you won’t have to wait long -- Kirishima loves winding you up, but his dick is so sensitive that once he gets started he finds it difficult to hold back.

With his free hand, Kirishima reaches up to play with your tits. Rather than waste time trying to unclasp your bra, he just pushes it up so that the bra cups no longer hinder his access to your chest. You try not to laugh as his fingers press into your breasts, because you know that he just likes the feeling of the squish when he squeezes them. He ducks his head and kisses each one, then licks a stripe over your nipple and sucks at it. You’re starting to feel tingly and very sensitive when he pulls back, your tit dropping from his mouth. The air against your wet skin feels too cold in the absence of his mouth, and your nipple is hard and sensitive to the point where it almost feels raw. “Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to his face. His eyes are fever bright, his face practically glowing with anticipation. “I want to eat you out.”

“Yes please.” you say rather stupidly. In all honesty, Kirishima could have asked to do anything at all to you in that moment and you would have been hard-pressed to say no. He looks so cute like this, his expression so open and soft and excited, any lingering unease or nerves being replaced by his desire to please and be pleased. He grins at you as he slides down your body, pressing a kiss to your belly button as he goes. Your panties are removed with one swift tug, but then he pauses just to look at you. “Quit staring!” you complain, clamping your thighs around his head to try and distract him.

“Ow! Hey, I’m just admiring the view!” He laughs, shaking his head free from your legs. “I’m not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Gawking is not the same as admiring!”

“Gawking?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m gonna be inside you in a few minutes, but you’re embarrassed by me looking at you?” Kirishima sounds genuinely confused, but shakes it off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, fine. Want me to close my eyes?”

“No,” you laugh, still grinning down at him as he kisses the crease in your thighs, “Of course not. It’s just embarrassing to be stared at.”

“I like looking at your pussy,” he says with a shrug. His tone is conversational, as if he’s chatting over a cup of coffee rather than gazing up at you with his head between your legs, “It’s nice.”

You fold your arms over your face, fighting hard against the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to overtake you. “Right.” you manage to say, “Well. Okay then.” You hear him chuckle, but you stubbornly keep your eyes covered. Even without seeing, you know he’s taking you all in. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you fight the urge to close your legs; seriously, you can’t figure out why he’s enjoying the view so much. You know there are better pussies out there.

When his fingers trace over your outer lips you jerk, the touch catching you by surprise. The sudden movement causes him to make a rumbling sound in his chest, almost like a warning, and you still. You can feel his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shiver just a little when he kisses along your outer lips. It's the anticipation that’s getting to you more than anything, every nerve firing as you wait for his next touch.

You sigh happily when he starts getting into eating you out for real, your hips twitching into his mouth. He’s just so good with his tongue, it makes your breath stutter and rattle in your chest. When he sucks at your clit, you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him. He meets your gaze and throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you, and you just know that he felt you physically react to it by the way he laughs a little into your cunt. “Shut up.” you grumble without any heat, grinning helplessly at him.

The smile he shoots back at you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks so dopey and happy that you feel your heart and your pussy clench at the same time. It’s a particularly disquieting sensation, but even through it you recognise the heat of an oncoming orgasm building in your lower belly. When he dives back in face first, he laps and sucks at you so eagerly that you fist your hand in his hair reflexively as you twitch against him. All you can do is hang on for dear life as he devotes everything he has to eating you out.

Some part of you distantly wonders how his tongue hasn’t cramped up yet, but that thought vanishes when you catch sight of the way his hips are moving as he humps the mattress. He’s gone down on you like this countless times long before you found out exactly what he was packing, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually actively engage in seeking his own pleasure while doing so. It’s hotter than you could have expected, and when he grinds down hard and whimpers into you, you very nearly lose it.

“Eijirou,” you gasp, tugging at his hair. You’re trying to pull him off you before you come, but apparently he really likes having his hair pulled because he moans delightedly against you, “Eijirou! Wait, stop, I’m gonna cum-!”

“Stop?” He parrots, pulling back to stare wide-eyed at you. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do,” you hurry to assure him, struggling to catch your breath. “But I want you to fuck me first.”

Kirishima’s face goes on a journey of expressions before settling on one that’s distinctly delighted. “Yeah. Yes.” he says, “We can do that.”

You settle back against his pillows eagerly as he reaches over to his bedside table for the lube. You’ve been stretching yourself pretty much every day in the hopes that this exact situation would happen, so when Kirishima brings two fingers to your entrance they slip in with ease. He breathes out sharply and adds a third, using his thumb to rub at your clit as he presses his fingers all the way inside you. You take the opportunity to quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side, and then lie back as Kirishima finger fucks you. He hones in on the spongey area at the front of your inner walls like there’s a homing signal there, and your toes curl as he massages at it and your clit at the same time.

“Eijirou-!” you gasp, growing impatient. His fingers feel so good, but they’re not enough.

“Yeah, I got you, baby.” Kirishima murmurs, then sits back on his ankles. For the first time since he started eating you out you manage to actually get a look at him, and the sight has your thighs clenching together as you swear you nearly cream yourself on the spot. The front of his sweatpants are ruined -- he must have been dribbling copious amounts of precum the whole time he was going down on you and humping the bed, and without his usual cup he’s soaked through the grey cotton.

When he notices you looking he flushes, obviously embarrassed, and opens his mouth, but you speak quickly before he gets the chance to apologise or try to put himself down. “That’s so hot. Shit, you’re so hot. Fuck.”

Your words are simple, but it’s impossible not to notice the subtle straightening of his shoulders as he shucks his pants and shuffles over closer to you. “I, um. I really like eating you out.”

“Yeah.” you breathe with a grin, reaching out to stroke his dick. It’s sticky and messy with his own precum, lying impossibly hot and heavy in your hand. The base of it is already flushed and swollen with cum, and the entire length of it strains up towards his belly in a truly awesome display of gravity-defying physics. “I can see that.”

He shudders and presses into your touch as you rub over the raised bumps and the bulbous head. You kiss his shoulder, sweet and fast, then spread your legs to give him some room as he settles in between them. The tip of his cock skims along your pussy lips and prods at your entrance, but doesn’t go any further despite your squirming. “Ready?” Kirishima asks, as though you’re not writhing against the tip of his dick like a cat in heat.

“Yes!”

The chuckle Kirishima gives at that is breathless and excited, and it cuts off as soon as he starts to press into you in favour of a drawn out groan. The stretch and the sheer size of him isn’t as much of a shock as the first time, but you still lose your breath as he pushes inside in increments. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overwhelming stretch, the subtle curve, the ribbed bumps and swirls rubbing against every part of you. Even when you feel impossibly full he keeps going, and soon he’s over you and around you and inside you and it seems like your whole world has narrowed down to the points of contact where you’re touching.

His fists clench in the bedsheets by your head and his shoulders hunch over you as he visibly fights the urge to just rock into you all at once. “Fuck.” he grunts, biting his lip as he tries to hold back. Hit with immediate flashbacks from the second time you two had tried to have sex and he had bitten through his lip, you quickly reach up and kiss him in a desperate attempt to avert another disaster. When you pull back, he seems to have collected himself somewhat, despite the slightly glassy look in his eye. “You okay?” he asks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched tight as he holds himself back.

Honestly, with his cock splitting you open like this you feel as though you’re about to crack in half. Every couple of moments his cock twitches and flexes inside of you as it dribbles more precum, and you can feel it inside of you. It’s all just on the border of too much, and you’re desperate for so much more. “Yes,” you say at last, throwing your head back and trying to push further down onto his dick, “But baby, please move.”

Kirishima must have been waiting for that, because as soon as you ask it of him he begins rutting into you with a rough pant of “Oh, yeah.”

Every time his hips drive home the tip of his cock presses into your cervix and the subsequent achey jolt that shoots through you borders on pleasure and pain. It feels good, but you just need to- you need-

You shift under him and tilt your hips up, and the next time he ruts into you has you nearly yelping like a kicked dog. The swollen head of his cock hits against the spongey part inside of you, and the ridges rub deliciously along it every time he pulls out. You think your eyes might actually cross from how good it feels.

Kirishima doesn’t even seem to notice, nearly mindless with need. If you’re being honest with yourself, this is your favourite part; feeling him completely lose his mind just from being buried inside of you, watching his eyes lose focus at the heat and tightness of your pussy as he whines and moans even as he rails you into whatever surface you’re lying on. Kirishima whimpers as his cock jack-hammers inside of you, the soft little sound completely at odds with the strength of his thrusts and the way he’s holding your hips in place with his hands as he fucks into you. His movements are frantic, but he still manages to hold his strength in place, never moving hard enough to hurt. “Oh, oh, I love being inside you so much, baby, oh god, you make me feel so good-”

One of his hands comes to rest on your lower belly, and when he presses down you feel like you’re about to break apart. The subtle pressure of his hand makes every thrust so much more intense, as though you can feel him grinding in your belly. Every time he ruts into you it forces the air from your lungs, but you try to reply anyway, pushing the words out even as they almost catch in your throat, “Feels- feels good-!”

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing eagerly at your neck. His hand wanders down from your belly to your clit, and starts rubbing quick circles into your clit. His coordination is totally off but if anything that makes it so much hotter. You can feel how desperate he is with every clumsy jerk of his hand and every frantic snap of his hips.

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and heat growing rapidly in your belly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter as your orgasm draws closer, and your breath begins coming in rapid pants. The pressure in your abdomen feels a little different than usual, and you take it as a sign that you’re about to come really hard.

You just manage to get out the words “Oh, yes-!” before the pleasure growing in your belly crests and your back bows as you start to cum. It feels like the most cathartic orgasm ever, like all of the pressure that’s been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Kirishima keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

It feels like an oddly wet orgasm though, and you just have time to wonder disappointedly if you had missed Kirishima cum when he looks up at you, bewildered, and yelps “Are you peeing on me?”

“What?” you sit up so fast that you nearly headbutt him, and moving your body so quickly comes with the unintended side-effect of contracting the muscles inside of you. The abrupt squeeze of your internal muscles proves too much for Kirishima, and he starts to cum even as he pulls out of you, his hips humping furiously into the air as thick ropes of cum begin to splatter your skin.

You’re busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that you apparently just squirted -- it had never happened to you before, and though the surprise of Kirishima’s question had lessened some of the intensity, the aftershocks of the orgasm are still shaking their way through your body -- so it takes a solid moment for your brain to get back with the program. It takes yet another moment to realise that Kirishima is cumming a lot. Like, more than usual, which is saying something.

His face has gone slack and his eyes are unfocused as his cock practically streams cum in jets, the swollen base pulsing as his whole cock twitches. You can’t deny that it’s unbelievably hot seeing him lose himself like this, sweaty and wanton and twitching, but he’s also getting cum everywhere - it spills all over you, all over him, all over the bed.

“Oh, shit” is all you can think to say, trying to catch his cum with your hand in a failed attempt to minimise the mess. It strings stickily down your arms, viscous and thick, and you’re pretty sure that if you hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms ever this would have you creaming yourself. “Holy fuck, babe, stop-!”

Kirishima doesn’t stop. His hips keep jabbing into thin air as his cock flexes with every dribble of cum. You reach out and grab his cock without any real thought, but your touch only seems to drive him wilder because he moans wildly and tries to fuck into your hand. It must be because he had been grinding himself into the bed while he ate you out; you don’t think he’s ever actually worked himself up before, considering how desperate and mindless he gets when he’s about to cum. At a loss for anything else to do, you just try to stroke him through it. Every pull on his cock results in more cum stringing over your wrist, the glide of your hand against the thick length of him wet and slick.

It seems like he cums forever, but at last it tapers off until his cock is twitching fruitlessly and his whole body sags as though he’s gone suddenly boneless. The two of you sit and stare at each other, shell-shocked, covered in various bodily fluids. Even the silence sounds confused.

At last, you blurt the only thing you can think of to say. “I did not pee on you.”

Kirishima’s laugh sounds like it comes from deep within his chest, and then suddenly he’s best over and laughing so hard he goes wheezy. “What-” he gasps in between exhausted and breathless giggles, “the fuck just happened?”

You join in on his laughter, unable to help yourself. The two of you are sticky and damp and sitting in a veritable puddle of cum, but you crawl over the mess and climb into his lap, sighing happily as his arms come to wrap around you. “I’ve never seen so much cum in my life.” you point out stupidly, “You’re gonna have to get new sheets.”

He grins as he flops back limply on the bed, taking you with him. “So, so worth it.” he sighs, raising your knuckles to his face so he can kiss them. His face twists up when he realises that your hand is still covered in cum and that it’s now on his mouth, which makes you erupt into cackles again.

“No injuries, so I’d say that’s a win.” You kiss his chest and stretch out on top of him. You’ll have to move soon, because the cum is starting to dry flakily and feels kind of gross on your skin, but for now you’re happy to ignore it in favour of being close to him.

“Hell yeah,” Kirishima playfully punches the air with one hand as the other strokes your back. “We totally crushed that learning curve, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “Crushed it.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha kirishima #bnha x reader #dragon dick kiri #mha kirishima

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

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Amoreena | Chapter sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Amoreena meets Jo, Jo shares her experience with the foster homes (tw self-harm and child abuse), and Spencer shares his shitty childhood with her. They bond, he loves her more than he thought possible, his dreams of a big happy family are coming true.

word count: 4.8k

from the beginning <3

His phone is ringing at 7:50 and all he does is groan, forgetting Y/N’s agreement with Amoreena. His wife reached over his face and towards the phone, picking up with an overly cheerful tone for a pregnant woman who was up until 3 am.

“Hello sweet girl, how was your sleep?”

“Ugh,” she makes a weird face as the morning nausea kicks in and she tries to swallow it down. “Yeah? Oh, I’m so glad, dad and I are just waking up. We have another big surprise for you today… I know honey there’s always a lot going on, but this one is a good one I promise!”

“Can I go talk to her?” Spencer asks, “alone?”

“Dad’s going to come and see you while mommy has a shower, okay? I love you too, bye,” she smiles as she hangs up and passes the phone back to him.

They kiss quickly before separating, Spencer throws on the same clothes from the beach last night before heading down the hall towards Amoreena’s room. He knocks quietly before entering, seeing her sitting in a queen bed with 2 cats.

“Taylor let Olivia and Benjamin stay in here last night, she said they usually sleep in here anyway!” She was whispering, but it was still loud for her this early.

He sat on the edge of her bed and gave her a big hug, “how was your night?”

“Really amazing, Dad, Taylor is my best friend now,” she’s completely serious, “I hope mom’s not too upset about that, I guess we could share her…”

“That’s a nice thought, are you good at sharing?”

“I think so,” she nods with a serious face.

“Good, because there’s a new person who’s coming to live with us. She’s going to be kind of sad for a while and I’ll be spending a lot of time with her too,” he watches her face as she listens, confused but fine with it.

“Who is she?”

“Did your mom tell you how she made you?”

She nods, “she said sometimes people with penises donate sperm to help people have babies, and you were the one who donated for me,” she gives him a run down so seriously that it makes him laugh like the 7-year-old.

“Yeah, exactly, well I also helped 2 other families make babies,” he says softly, petting her hair as she understands what that means.

“So I have more siblings?”

“Yep, 2 sisters and a brother,” he smiles as she starts to bounce with excitement. “Josephine is 12, almost 13, and she’s coming to live with us.”

“Where is her mom?” She asks, he knew she would.

“Her mom and dad were in an accident, they died and she looked for me because she didn’t want to be alone anymore,” he knows it’s a hard topic, and that she understands death after losing her gg, but it’s still hard.

“Oh, that’s sad,” she frowns, moving in to hug him again, she keeps her head pressed to his shoulder. “I hope she’s okay, is she here now too?”

“She is, but I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, she’s a teenager and they sometimes sleep in longer than you would, like when Henry was over and slept until noon,” he has all his kids profiled in his minds and it’s actually more helpful than a hindrance.

“Does she like Taylor?”

He knew that one was coming too, “she’s a huge fan, she cried meeting her just like mom.”

“Is she going to call my mom her mom now?”

“I don’t think so, would that upset you?” He’s worried for the answer, he had the same jealous tendencies growing up. Hell, he still has them.

“No, she needs a mom, I would be very sad without mine, I know she needs one too,” she looked at him like it was a stupid question because of course, all kids need a mom and her mom happened to be the best.

“That’s really nice of you, she knows all about you and she’s really excited to move in with us, maybe you can help her decorate her room?” He isn’t sure what Jo will think, but he knows it would be good for bonding.

“Can we see if she’s awake? Wait, she’s a she right? Miss Kennedy said sometimes people look like girls but they don’t like to feel like girls, so we use they,” Amoreena was so worried about being a good sister he didn’t know why he worried so much.

“Well, I’m not sure, Jo hasn’t told me but you can ask?”

She shot right out of bed, still in her dress from last night as she ran to the door, “come on, what room is it?”

“Right there, knock nicely,” he says as he joins her in the hall, pointing to the room across from her.

She knocked 3 times, hearing a small ‘yeah?’ From the other side before opening it, “good morning!” Amoreena cheered.

“Amoreena!” Jo smiled as she got out of bed and ran over to her. She dropped to her knees so they’d be the same height and wrapped her up in her arms.

They hugged like this was a reunion and not an introduction, they held on to one another so tightly they both squeezed their eyes shut and held their breath. He knew that kind of hug, that was a hug you gave when you deeply loved the person you were hugging.

It made him want to cry, again.

Jo pulled back from her and Amoreena immediately held her face in her hands, observing her. “Yep, you’re my sister,” she smiled as she saw her nose.

That same perfect little button that was slightly angled towards the sky, she booped it lightly. Jo booped her right back.

“I am, it’s pretty cool getting to share a dad with you cause now I get to meet Taylor Swift, how the heck did we get so lucky?” Jo talks to her like she’s used to being around kids, finding the wonder in every word and saying the whole sentence with enthusiasm.

She turns to him, both his girls making the same face as they looked at him in the doorway, “how did you meet Taylor, dad?”

“You remember Uncle Dave? He came over for the barbecue and talked to poppy bob about winemaking all night?”

“Yeah, he’s Italian,” Amoreena remembered his funny accent and how she called him Mario.

“His daughter is Taylor’s friend, so Taylor sent me an email asking to meet you,” he couldn’t help but smile as she did.

“So you guys really are knights at the FBI, huh?”

“Yeah, but my armour got too rusty so now I’m going to guard the princess only, no more battles for me,” he was happy to make it magical, to turn the terribleness of it all into something she could be proud of.

He feels cold hands reaching under the back of his shirt then as he jumps, Y/N is wrapping her arms around him and pressing her cheek to his back, “your armour is fine, it just needs some polish.”

“They’re kinda gross, you’ll have to get used to that,” Amoreena says, pressing her lips together awkwardly as she looks at Jo.

“It’s nice though, it makes you feel like love is real,” Jo smiled back, “not many kids have happy families.”

“You do now, okay?” Amoreena took her cheeks in her hands again, something she must have learned from Y/N. “My family is your family and we are the best family, you’re going to have so much fun with us, can I help you decorate your room?”

Jo cried, laughing lightly as she nodded, “that would be cool, maybe we can get bunk beds for random sleepovers?”

Amoreena shot her eyes to her mom, “can we?”

“That would be cool,” Y/N agreed, “we’ll go to Ikea on Friday when I’m not working, okay?”

“And this weekend we can buy some paint for your room?” Spencer added, “you guys can plan all week together.”

“Yes!” Amoreena cheered, hugging Jo again.

Jo held her gently, resting her cheek against the top of Amoreena’s head with a small smile. She looked genuinely happy, peaceful like she belonged somewhere again.

Right then Amoreena’s eyes are darting right to him, “It’s fathers day!” She screams, way too loud for 8 am in someone else’s home. Thank god Taylor was on the other side of the mansion.

“Oh my god,” Amoreena smacked her forehead with her little hand, “I was so carried away with the wedding I didn’t pack your present, dad! I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got you covered little miss,” Y/N smiled at her, “It’s in my purse!”

Amoreena pushed past them in the doorway and ran to their room in search of said purse. Probably emptying it out on the bed and making a huge mess, but it was fine.

Y/N took a moment to kiss his cheek, “good morning, happy father’s day.”

“Thank you,” he blushed, turning to face her and hold her close, “I can feel you staring Jo, come here.”

She comes skipping right over, wrapping her arms around them both and resting her head on Spencer’s side. For a 12-year-old she was tall, a lot taller than Henry was, that’s for sure.

“Hey!” Amoreena butts in, “let me in,” she pushed into the middle of the hug to steal all the warmth, “happy father’s day, dad.”

“Happy father’s day,” Jo added with a soft smile, “thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, you’re the best dad in the world, Jo you should see how he reads with his mind, he doesn’t even need to look at the books at bedtime,” Amoreena bragged, pulling back from all of them then.

Spencer wiped the tears from his face and pretended he wasn’t crying, overwhelmed by love just like he told Jo to expect. “I love you guys, I’m so glad I helped make you both, you’re the best kids a dad could ask for.”

“Here,” Amoreena hands him a wrapped present.

It’s a handmade book, blue construction paper bound with green ribbon in little loops and covered in a thin layer of tissue paper from the present he got her last week. He carefully removes the tissue and hands it back to her, “do you still want it for dresses?”

“Sure,” she takes it with a smile, “I wrote this for you after a dream I had, Miss Kennedy helped me write it all and reword it a bit. But it’s all from my brain.”

“Spencer’s little women,” he reads and then his heartbeat almost stops when he sees the bottom, “by Amoreena Reid.”

“We can go sit in the living room while you read it to us?” Y/N offered, taking the girl's hands and leading them all down the hallway.

Taylor’s house was full of floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing them to watch the sunrise over the ocean as they cuddled up on the couch as a family. Him and his little women.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a beautiful princess who had a broken heart. She promised to hide away from the townspeople until she gathered all the pieces again,” Spencer read the first sentence and knew he wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole book.

“You know, I think it would be better if you read this to me Amoreena,” he asks her gently, “I want to know it from your voice first.”

“Okay,” she bounces up from where she cuddled into her mother to take the book from his hand, sitting straight as she got ready to read.

“Slowly, but surely, the pieces came back to her one by one as the people felt the need to search for her, they missed seeing her smile as she ruled alongside her parents, the king and queen until her heart was fixed.

A little girl, Lady Amoreena, arrived like a gift. A fairy godmother handing a small child to the princess to raise and love forever and ever, they were best friends more than anything.

But the princess’s baby girl made it her mission to fix the rest of her heart as she grew up seeing her mom frown, questing for princes and kings, even another princess to come and fill that last missing spot of her heart. To make their family love grew as the cracks from where they separated were healed.

She set off on her daily adventure, running off past the gates on the way to the willow tree, excited to see what wonders the pond of youth brought to her this time. Surprised to find a knight, his broken and rusty armour fallen on the ground, he was wrapped in weeds, he had been trapped for too long to remember.

Amoreena cut the vines off him with her sword, “you’re free now, sir knight.”

“How can I ever repay you?” The kind man with the same nose as her asked.

“Meet the princess, tell her about your battles, make her laugh and you can stay with us,” she gives him one final quest. His last ever duty.

The princess smiles as soon as they meet. He wins her over without even trying, he completes their family and makes all the cracks in her heart fuse back together. Gold light shines from her as she’s healed, completed by the love of a family she never knew she needed.

The love didn’t end there… the knight and the princess knew lady Amoreena would be like her mom when she grew up. The possibility of a sad and broken heart as she got older, so they made her 8 more siblings, her group of sisters to keep her company during the happily ever after part.

“Sir Spencer, where are all your little women?” The king of the land asked, seeing the knight and the princess all alone on the path, old and slow as they walked.

“Down by the pond, it’s story day!”

He knew that’s where they’d always be, at their pond with a book, braiding each other's hair, weaving flower crowns and chasing each other through the wildflowers that replaced the vines that once held him down.

Free, healed and happy. Spencer and his little women healed the princess, allowing her to take the role as Queen, like her grandma always wanted for her.”

“There isn’t a 'the end'?” Y/N’s voice questions lightly as Spencer cries too hard to even respond.

She was the most amazing child in the whole world and he didn’t know what he did to deserve her. He wrapped her up in his arms and held her so tight she was smacking his arm to let her go with a laugh, “I want to add more to it when I’m older, like GG’s book.”

“You can write one for all your sisters,” Y/N smiles at her softly, “you know, gg only wrote Amoreena because you came to her in a dream?”

She nodded, “that’s why I started writing this book for dad because I had a dream about him reading to all of us, he was so old it was funny.”

“How old?” He asks, remembering his reflection from his own dream.

“Like poppy, you had a white beard!”

“What did we talk about?” He doesn’t know why he wants to know so badly but he’s desperate to know if their dream was the same.

“It was story day, you and mom were late, but you said, ‘I’d never miss a Saturday with my little women,’” she smiles, “I’m so glad you’re my dad.”

She holds him back just as tight this time, snuggling into his chest as he breathes her in. His first little baby, even if she was the middle kid now, she was his baby, he couldn’t even imagine holding someone even smaller than her soon.

—

They take a quick trip to target in the morning, needing to get some things for Jo and Y/N really, really wanted chocolate-covered cranberries, making sure he knew that she would kill him if he didn’t bring them back to her. Finally having those pregnancy mood swings he was expecting.

Jo is quick to pick out some summer clothes and a bathing suit for the day as well as toiletries and anything else she wanted because Spencer said so. He was going to spoil her because he didn’t know what else to do. This is what he wanted from his dad, someone to see something, think of him and just get it to make him smile.

She saw some purple bedding that she liked, so it ended up in the cart. And then she needed some new pillow, and some fitted sheets… oh and those curtains are nice… and before they knew it they had $300 worth of things for her bedroom in the back of Y/N’s car.

Jo pressed her lips together awkwardly as they sat in the front seats of the car, he looked over at her and smiled, making her laugh, “this is the best father’s day.”

“I’m supposed to be getting you gifts today!”

“You are a gift, Jo,” he doesn’t mean to get sappy, but he can’t help the love he feels for her already.

“Drive before I cry, dude,” she turns to look out the window. “Are we going to have a 'ground rules and behaviour' speech like all the foster parents do? I have a feeling you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He starts the car then, pulling out of the lot and starting the 40-minute car ride back with her, “how do they normally set the rules in the foster homes?”

“They pay for my phone bill with the money provided for me each month and they sometimes get me the groceries I want for lunches and stuff but they mostly kept the money for themselves. I’m only allowed on the internet for an hour a day, homework has to be done in front of their eyes at the kitchen table, no food after 7 pm, lights off and no walking around by 9,” she gave the rundown and it made Spencer’s stomach turn.

“I will pay for your phone bill, you don't need to worry about that. We can even get you a new one when we get home. Y/N has great internet and every streaming service available, you don’t have a time limit here. Just promise me you’ll go outside sometimes?” He reaches a hand out to hold her’s while driving, letting her know he means what is coming next.

“I trust you have a way of life you’re used to, and I’m not going to change that on you, if you want to share things with me and be open and honest, I’m always here and I will never judge you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide things from me. And that being said, I trust you enough to use the internet safely, and not hack anything without good reason anymore?”

Derek was right, it’s surprisingly easy to be a dad. All you have to do is love them and be there for them.

“Okay, then I think you should know,” she takes a deep breath and a pause. “I’m pretty sure I like girls too, I never got to tell my mom that but I’m sure she knew, and I’m kind of scared to put my bathing suit on when I get home.”

“First of all, I’m proud of you,” he squeezes her hand 3 times, and she does it right back with a smile. “Secondly, why? Did you not get one you liked? I was fine buying any of them for you.”

“I have a lot of scars on my legs, and I don’t want to scare Amoreena,” she’s really ashamed of herself and Spencer understands it.

He rolls his sleeve up and extends his arm for her to see his very faded track marks, “I was drugged on a case once, I had an addiction after. The scars fade over time, but I also haven’t shown Amoreena my bare arms yet.”

“Mine are pretty faded now too, it’s been a few months, they look more like stretch marks,” she smiled at his honesty, feeling safer with him.

“If she asks, you can say it was from a cat at the foster home. She’ll think about Cinderella and the evil stepmother's cat, and then completely forget why she asked,” he assures her, knowing Amoreena like the back of his hand now.

“Lucifer,” Jo smiles, “I was like her as a kid too, always making up stories and finding new movies to be obsessed with. I have ADHD, by the way, but I’m un-medicated cause my last foster home didn’t listen to the school’s diagnosis,” she says it like it’s not a big deal.

His blood starts to boil at the thought of someone not taking care of her, “excuse me?”

“Yeah, and when I asked for a therapist they said no to that too, I was ‘fine’ apparently and they settled for a dead parents support group so that Colin could have a coffee while I sat there,” she’s oblivious to how terrible it is.

“Make me a list of all the things you want, I mean everything down to the most niche interest or therapy technique that you’ve researched and I will help you with whatever it is,” Spencer is furious at the conditioning she’s experienced to think this is okay.

“You don’t have to, dad, I’m okay now,” she lies and he can tell.

“You don’t have to be, believe me, I cry almost every night to Y/N about things I thought I had recovered from. If you want to talk to someone because you think it will help, or if you want medicine because you feel like it’ll help you focus better or just be happier, I’m here to help you get that.”

She goes quiet, staring at their hands where he’s still squeezing her palm. She rubs her thumb along the skin softly, “did your mom ever hurt you?”

“Only when she wasn’t really there in her own mind,” he presses his lips together right after, he’s never told anyone about it.

“Did your dad?”

“Emotionally, but he wasn’t there long enough to lay a hand on me.”

She nods at the response, “my dad was evil, I think he killed my mom in that ‘accident’, but on purpose.”

“I thought my dad was a murderer once too, but it was actually my dad’s friend,” he isn’t sure why he’s telling her everything, but she deserved to know.

“There was a pedophile in our town who killed this boy, Riley, and my mom told him about a man who was watching me like I was next. And Riley’s dad killed him, but I was so young my mind tried to think it was my dad who did it all.”

“Your old job must have really messed you up inside too, huh?” She tries to laugh it off, scared of his past but intrigued at the same time, he just nods at her observation.

“I have a friend, her name is Penelope, her parents died when she was a little bit older than you. She snuck out and they went to look for her, and they were in a car crash,” he makes sure she’s comfortable, her hand is still in his and her thumb is still moving over his skin.

“Like you, she got into hacking, the FBI had to hire her because she was so good she became a threat, you’d really like her,” he says, turning to look at her quickly, he loves the smile on her face.

“I’d love to meet her,” she smiled, “thank you, I wish you could have always been my dad.”

It breaks his heart a little, “well, you have me forever now.”

—

“Two questions,” Y/N’s voice approaches as she walks towards the trunk of her car.

Jo and Spencer are digging through all the shopping bags trying to find all the things that she needs for the afternoon, leaving the rest for the ride home.

“Here,” Spencer hands her the chocolate-covered cranberries, “king-sized bag.”

“I love you,” she smiles as she takes it, “the second question, how are the suitcases going to fit in there now? We have two kids to bring home, they’re going to be squished.”

“I don’t mind,” Jo smiles, “one time they didn’t have room for me in a car so I sat in the trunk for 15 minutes.”

Spencer wrapped her up in his arms, “every time you tell me a story about what has happened to you, I want to kill someone.”

She laughs, holding him back gently, “believe me, I was an asshole to them, they got what they deserved.”

“What did you do?” Y/N worries about what she’s capable of, Spencer can tell.

“I called the tax people and said they have been claiming foster kids as dependents and now they might have tax fraud charges coming their way,” she seemed very proud of herself. “I would never hurt someone, but I have no problem getting them in trouble.”

Y/N extended her fist, bumping it off Jo’s with a smile, “as you should! Now, come on, let’s go get ready for the beach.”

Jo skipped inside with Y/N, their arms linked as they did so. Spencer couldn’t believe this was his life now. He closed the trunk with a slam, picking up the bag of things he set aside before joining them inside.

“Surprise!!!!” Amoreena screamed as soon as he walked through the door.

There was a hand-drawn Happy Father’s Day banner hanging from the staircase and purple balloons all over the place.

“Happy father’s day!!!” They all cheered for him, even Taylor’s mom was there now, smiling at the display of affection.

Amoreena and Jo came running up to him, wrapping their arms around him and holding him close, nothing felt real. “Can you pinch me?” He asked them with a small smile.

He didn’t think they’d do it, but even Y/N walked over and started pinching him all over. Amoreena pinched his leg, Jo pinched his belly button and Y/N, she pinched his cute little butt as she pressed a kiss to his blushing cheek. “You’re very real, so are we.”

“I love you guys,” Spencer reminds them, holding them all as close as he can for just a moment, “okay, enough sappiness, let’s go to the beach!”

Amoreena and Y/N are already in their swimsuits under their sundresses, Jo, on the other hand, picked out some trunks and a tank-style swim top, hiding her scares just enough that she felt comfortable getting in the sand and building a castle with Amoreena.

Y/N laid on the towel beside Spencer in the shade, Taylor and her mom were playing scrabble on the picnic table, her dad was cooking up burgers on the grill. It was serene, it was perfect, they were a little family and it made absolutely no sense to him how it all worked out so well, but he wouldn’t change any of it.

“Look how big it is after lunch,” Y/N grabbed his attention, sticking her belly out as far as it could go, “I’m going to get so huge again, at least this time I’ll be the biggest when it’s cold out.”

“Are you comfortable? Do you need more sunscreen or water?” Spencer worried, making her smile as she pushed her sunglasses up and turned to him.

“I am fantastic, thank you, cutie.”

He leans in to kiss her gently, but she wraps her arms around him and pulls him down on top of her. Kissing him like she just rescued him from the sea and hasn’t seen him for years.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t go far. Just sitting up as he brushes her hair off her face, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she reminds him with another soft smile.

“I missed mother’s day with you by only a few days, but you should know you’re the best mother in the whole world,” he whispered, wanting to share his day with her because, without her, he wouldn’t be a father.

She pulls him into another kiss, hands resting on his cheeks as she breathes in deeply through her nose. It’s like she’s taking the soul out of his body, he's a part of her now forever and always. He never wants to be anywhere else.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years ago

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This request comes from one of the sweetest readers I know on my A03! 🥰🥰🥰 I mean, who doesn't like the idea of 4 stronk Pillarmen taking care of you when you're sick? 🤔😇

Pillarmen (separate) taking care of their sick s/o...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Always the definition of intuitive; Kars will know immediately when you aren't yourself.

• Whether you're stomach sick or just undergoing a common cold, he can just tell.

• Sometimes he can tell before it even truly hits you.

• Out of all the Pillarmen, he is the most knowledgeable on Human Medical and, as he puts it, "Your fragile needs" so rest assured, he knows how to care for you.

• You'll be confided to bed (whether you like it or not), the only exception being the bathroom, to which he will carry you there.

• Being a man who's always busy at his desk, he can always keep a close eye on you while he tackles work; listening to your shallow breaths from where you sleep in the background as he quietly flips through papers.

• Occasionally, he'll glance over his shoulder to check up on you. Or if you've been asleep for sometime he'll stop working and gently wake you, asking you how you feel and if you need anything as he takes your temperature.

• When you're fighting a simple cold he'll ensure you get A LOT of vitamin C.

• He'll even go so far as to peel you an orange and feed you it slice by slice with a soft, indulgent smile on his face.

• Even though he's not exactly a chef, he can also make you a hearty homemade soup and ensure you're drinking plenty of water.

• If you ask him, he'll rub some vicks on your chest if you're very congested.

• Kars likes to hum to you as he does it, his blood-red eyes holding a notable twinkle in them as he watches your eyes flutter closed, sending you into a deep sleep with his gentle touch and the deep timber of his voice.

• If you happen to be stomach sick however; he puts you on a strick diet of water, crackers and some Gatorade for a few days. No ifs, ands or buts about it!

• Sick Humans are one of his least favorite kinds of Humans (aside from just Humans in general) but you're still his mate and you can always count on him to love and take care of you until you're well again.

Esidisi:

• Much like Kars, Esidisi is very intuitive and knows his mate more than anyone; so he can tell almost immediately when you're feeling a little off.

• When he knows something is up and he's trying to decipher what's going on with you, he'll just wordlessly pull you into his lap and give you a little examination, asking you how you feel.

• No matter whatever ailment you're fighting, the man will be right by your side the whole time.

• However, unlike Kars, his methods of taking care of you are a little outdated...

• "Outdated", of course, being healing methods that are literally thousands of years old.

• He might do the most outrageous seeming things, insisting that they'll help, depending on what's ailing you.

• You can bet he'll be doing things like; putting onions on your feet, putting a candle in your ear, smudging you with sage and a feather, drenching you and your clothes with brandy, painting a healing sigil on you, using a singing bowl, etc.

• He honestly laughs at you when you tell him that you have a bottle of Nyquil downstairs.

• Other than that, he's a person to climb into bed next to you and simply hold you in his arms; claiming that his love and his body heat will heal you.

• He honestly doesn't care in the slightest if you're gross or not when he does this so any protests you might make about that are ignored.

• He's also a man who believes in the saying of "feed a fever; fight a cold", so prepare for him to turn up his temperature to help you sweat it out.

• If your stomach sick and your tummy feels gross and sore, he'll simply place his warm hands over your stomach and give you a nice belly rub.

• He prefers to keep you in bed for rest and recovery but if you manage to convince him that you're feeling a bit better he'll move you to the couch for a change of scenery.

• He'll even take you outside if the weather is nice and have you sit you in his lap while you get some fresh air.

• Esidisi loves you with all the love he has inside and he will do anything he can (even if the method is unconventional) to ensure his precious little mate makes a full recovery.

Wamuu:

• Wamuu, as any Warrior should, has very keen senses.

• But surprisingly, he will not really notice you are sick until you are indeed sick.

• He's not as knowledgeable on Human ailments as his Masters are but he isn't shy to do some research on whatever is wrong with you and take some notes so he can ensure to take proper care of you.

• For a massive and intimidating Warrior who could wipe out legions of Humans like nothing; Wamuu is an absolute Mother Hen when caring for you.

• He ensures he stays by your side every chance he gets.

• If you want something, no matter what it is, he'll get it for you. Whether it's reading material, a certain movie to watch, your phone, some kind of food, more tissues, you name it!

• He checks your temperature like a loving Mother would; by pressing his lips softly to your forehead to evaluate the heat radiating off you.

• If you're fighting a cold, he brings you all the hot soup and tea you could possibly want.

• If you need a distraction, ask him to tell you a story. He'll happily read to you from a book or even tell you a story about something that happened thousands of years ago.

• "--Master Kars told Master Esidisi not to poke the Rhinoceros but of course, he didn't listen..."

• Either way; you can garuntee his soft and deep voice will put you to sleep as he strokes your hair or rubs your back from where you lay cuddled into his side.

• If you happen to get bedsore from laying around too long he'll give you a massage.

• If you're stomach sick he will carry you to the bathroom each time (he seems to just know exactly when you're going to be sick at this point) and kneel by your side, rubbing your back soothingly and comforting you as you ride out the waves of sickness.

• When you feel icky and gross, he'll draw you a nice bath and hum to you; washing your hair and your body and cleaning any grossness you happen to feel away.

• He likes to hold you in his arms the most when you're like this but if you require to be laying down or propped in a certain position, he will be right at your side holding your hand.

• Wamuu commends you for being strong and trying to overcome what ails you and he will ensure you don't face it alone.

• The man will not rest until you, the love of his life, are feeling better again.

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana isn't very knowledgeable on Human sickness.

• However, the first time you happened to get sick around him, he immediately knew something was terribly wrong being as perceptive as he was.

• Even something as simple as your smell being a little off and he'll immediately know when you're under the weather.

• Once you explain what exactly is happening to you, he does his research on the internet and will even go to one of the older Pillarmen for advice on the proper treatment for you.

• Like Esidisi would; Santana will spend much of his time in bed next to you with his arms around you.

• He just has this natural instinct to be as close to you as possible, somehow feeling that just being there will cure you.

• He'll lull you into a sleep by rubbing soft little circles into your back, your ear directly over his heart to listen to the deep and steady drum of his heartbeat.

• If you need medicine, just tell him what kind and he'll bring it to you in a heartbeat.

• However, Santana will be very firm with you on how much medicine you're taking and will be sure that you aren't taking too much.

• He also makes sure you drink a lot of water, propping you up against his body and putting the bottle to your lips carefully to encourage you to sip.

• If you're stomach sick, he'll make sure he'll have a heating pad nearby or a hot water bottle filled up for when your belly is sore.

• You can bet that he will bring you every comfortable blanket and pillow in the house when you're feeling sick.

• He basically turns your bed into one big comfortable nest; the amount of blankets definitely helps you sweat out your sickness.

• If he finds you up and out of bed at all when you're still sick, he will just wordlessly walk up to you and pick you up, carrying you back to bed.

• One silent look from him while he's doing it is enough of a scolding to make you stay put next time.

• Santana would probably never fully understand Humans, and the entire mixture of chaos and fragility that can be packed into one, but for you he is more than willing to try to learn.

• Even if he can't understand, you can count on him to always be there for you when you're ill because you're his one and only mate and he loves you with all his heart.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

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iwritesickfic · 3 years ago

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"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

#my writing #oc henry #oc tom #two more boys pining for each while one has a cold what's new?

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years ago

Note

You said to put a rebuke prompt in here sO what about a sickfic? Luke is sick and Reggie and Bobby try to take care of him but then Reggie gets sick and all that's left is a grumpy Bobby who is tired of their dumbassery

Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it!! My first try at rebuke, but hopefully not my last ;)

read on ao3 here!

The minute Bobby gets to school, he knows today’s going to be kind of a disaster.

His first clue? Luke’s not there yet. He’s not exactly late, and isn’t in any real danger of being so—it’s only 7:30, and the first bell doesn’t ring until 7:55—but if Bobby’s being honest, he can’t remember the last time Luke wasn’t early. Usually, by the time Bobby gets to school, Luke’s already bouncing around the halls somewhere, playing his guitar in the stairwell or pretending to flirt with girls outside the library or trying to break into Bobby’s locker because Bobby refuses to give Luke his combination.

Luke doesn’t like school, but he likes being at home even less. And at least at school, his friends are there.

His friends are there now—two of them at least—but Luke isn’t.

It just doesn’t bode well for things to come, in Bobby’s opinion.

“Hey,” Reggie says when he meets Bobby at his locker, blindly bumping Bobby’s fist as he glances up and down the hallway. “Luke’s not here yet?”

“Guess not.” Bobby shuts his locker and shoulders his backpack. “Alex still home sick?”

“Think so,” Reggie confirms with a nod. “He said on the phone last night he was gonna try to be back today for a Spanish test, but I don’t know, he sounded pretty rough.”

Bobby grimaces. “Better he stay home and not infect the rest of us. He can always retake a Spanish test.”

“Yeah, but you know Alex.” Reggie shrugs. “If he’s not back, can I come over tonight? Since we won’t rehearse, I mean, just—just to hang out?”

A smile pulls at Bobby’s lips as his stomach does a weird, not unpleasant, flip flop. “Yeah, man, of course you can. Luke too?”

Reggie grins. “Of course!”

Bobby nods and turns back to his locker, fiddling pointlessly with the lock so that Reggie won’t see him blushing.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Alex—he does, a lot—he just… likes Alex as a friend. And he likes Reggie… and Luke… more than that… or differently… or something.

It’s stupid, and hell if Bobby knows how to put the damn thing into words, but… he figures the more time he gets to spend with just Luke and Reggie, the better. Even if it means taking advantage of the few times Alex isn’t available to make plans.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Reggie and Bobby hang around his locker, talking about their gig coming up in a couple weeks and the math homework Bobby didn’t do and whether it’s likely for Bobby’s finicky TV to be working well enough for them to play Super Mario Bros. after school today.

At 7:52, just when they’re starting to consider giving up and going to class, Luke appears at his own locker, about halfway down the hall.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls, bouncing over to him. “We thought you weren’t gonna show up today.”

Bobby follows, and the closer he gets to Luke, the more dread bubbles up in his stomach. Luke slumps against his locker, not even reacting to Reggie’s words. He looks pale and flushed at the same time, his nose and cheeks an alarming shade of cherry, and his hands tremble slightly as he tries to put his locker combination in.

Bobby stops short a good ten feet away as the pieces fall into place in his head, and before he can think of the right thing to say, what comes out is, “You look like shit.”

Luke’s response is a little delayed. When he does raise his eyes to Bobby, they’re glassy and dull, and his self-deprecating laugh and mumbled little, “Thanks, Bobs, that’s real nice,” come out so painfully hoarse that Bobby swears he feels his own throat sting in sympathy.

He takes another step back. Luke doesn’t just look terrible; he looks contagious.

Reggie, it seems, has no such reservations. He sidles right up to Luke and slings an arm around his shoulders; Luke immediately leans back into Reggie’s hold, his expression crumpling with relief like maybe he was having trouble holding up his weight on his own.

“Aw, Luke,” Reggie coos, rubbing Luke’s arm. “Did you catch Alex’s cold?”

“No,” Luke grumbles petulantly, and then contradicts himself by coughing into Reggie’s shoulder (Bobby flinches). “Maybe,” Luke amends. “But it’s Alex’s dumb saliva’s fault.”

Bobby’s stomach flips again. This time, it’s a little unpleasant. When have Luke and Alex been… sharing saliva?

“Well, Luke, bro, you shouldn’t have taken a sip of his drink when you knew he wasn’t feeling well,” Reggie chides, parental but for the most part unconcerned.

Luke pouts. “But he had a milkshake, and I couldn’t afford to get my own, and it seemed like a good idea in the moment, it was yummy!”

Relief surges through Bobby so intensely he almost feels faint with it—so Luke and Alex weren’t kissing. Okay. Good.

Not that he should have any say in what his friends do with their mouths on their own time, he just… he’d like to know about it ahead of time, if at all possible. Maybe be involved himself sometimes, that’d be nice.

Again. Stupid.

“Why are you even here?” Bobby asks, and it comes out harsher than he meant it to; Reggie and Luke both look up at him, frowning. He clears his throat and tries to soften his tone. “I mean. You should’ve stayed home, if you’re sick.”

Luke grimaces, and reluctantly pulls out of Reggie’s grip when the bell rings shrilly above them. “Mom wouldn’t let me,” he says with a wet sniff, yanking his locker open and grabbing a stack of books seemingly at random. “I didn’t have a fever, and I may have been known to fake a cold to get out of stuff once or twice… a month…” He shrugs, and drags a wrist under his nose. “Guess I wasn’t convincing enough this time.”

“This wasn’t convincing?” Bobby’s backed up another few feet, unable to take his eyes off Luke’s dripping nose, which he just wiped with his hand—God, who raised him? How and why in God’s green earth does Bobby ever find him attractive?

“In Mrs. P’s defense,” Reggie says cheerfully, “Luke’s really good at faking.”

Luke slams his locker closed. “Whatever, I’m fine. Let’s just get to class, Bobby. We’ll see you later, Reg.”

He starts, stumbling, down the hallway, toward the history class he and Bobby share. Bobby and Reggie exchange a look behind his back—Reggie’s is concerned, Bobby’s more than a little disgusted.

“Keep an eye on him, will you?” Reggie pleads. “Just until I see you guys at lunch?”

Bobby glances over at Luke, who’s paused a little ways down the hall to have a coughing fit into the crook of his arm—sleeveless, of course. “How close an eye are we talking?”

Reggie’s smile turns tolerant. “Please, Bobby? For me?”

Well, fuck, what is he supposed to say to that? He nods, stammers out a reply, and turns toward his classroom, just in time to see Luke careen forward with a spraying, uncovered sneeze.

Bobby shudders, hefts his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and tries not to breathe.

“He better not get me sick,” he grumbles to himself, and goes to drag Luke into class.

***

They get about fifteen, twenty minutes in before Bobby starts to think, yeah, no, no way in hell this is gonna work.

Luke is struggling.

First of all, he can barely sit up straight and keep his eyes open, much less pay attention to the lecture, so Bobby highly doubts he’s learning anything. He sniffles more than breathes, coughs more than talks, and gets up out of his seat to get a tissue from the front of the room so often that their teacher Mrs. Carroll eventually just nods for him to take the whole box back to his desk.

Every time he sneezes, Bobby cringes and scoots his desk a few more inches away. Every time he coughs, Bobby sinks lower in his chair, trying to surreptitiously pull the collar of his hoodie over his mouth. Every time he blows his nose, and just leaves the dirty tissues sitting in a gross little pile on his desk, Bobby wonders how the fuck they’re even friends.

When the bell rings, Luke slumps back in his chair and coughs into a fresh wad of tissues for a full minute and a half, while their classmates file out of the room around them, giving Luke grossed-out looks as they pass.

Bobby doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed on Luke’s behalf, considering they’re totally justified in their disgust. Mrs. Carroll catches his eye from her desk at the front of the classroom, and before she can so much as mouth, Maybe you should take him to the nurse, Bobby nods and holds up a finger as if to say, No, yeah, I’m on it.

“Hey,” he says, kicking the leg of Luke’s chair. “Pack up your stuff, sicky, you’re going home.”

Luke frowns at him, tissues still held over his face, muffling his already stuffy protest. “What? No, I’m—”

“Shut up,” Bobby cuts him off. “I don’t care if you claim you’re fine, I don’t care if your mom will be pissed, you look and sound like shit, I’m taking you back to my place until someone can pick you up. No arguments, you hear me?”

Luke just looks at him for a moment, and Bobby worries he’s going to fight back again, but then something shifts in his expression, and he just looks so tired all of a sudden. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, okay, I—I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Bobby lets out a breath. “Good. Me too.”

It takes longer than it should to get Luke out of his seat and to the door, even after Bobby takes his books from him so that all Luke has to carry is his box of tissues. Mrs. Carroll writes them both hall passes, and doesn’t fight Bobby when he says he probably won’t be back for her government class in the afternoon.

They walk slowly down the school hallway, Luke leaning heavily into Bobby’s side so he doesn’t stumble. Bobby almost manages not to think about the germs Luke is almost definitely passing to him, because his own health doesn’t matter as much as Luke’s right now. Bobby’s worry for him is hotter, more present, in his chest than any anxiety or germaphobia.

And that worry only grows when they get to the nurse’s office and find Reggie sitting on a plastic-covered bed waiting for them.

“There you guys are!” he says cheerfully, grinning and swinging his legs like a kid. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last the whole period.”

“The hell are you doing here?” Bobby asks as he guides Luke into a chair.

“Felt like I was gonna throw up,” Reggie explains, then gives Bobby an exaggerated wink he doesn’t understand.

“You did? Are you okay?”

Reggie’s brows knit together. “No—Bobby, that’s just what I told Miss Ellison so I could get out of English class. I wanted to meet you guys down here so I could go with you when you leave.”

Bobby frowns. There’s a lot going on today, he doesn’t have a whole lot of brainpower to spend on Reggie’s riddles. And he’s definitely missing something here.

Apparently, Luke is just as confused. “Wait,” he croaks, sniffling and slumped over in his chair. “You’re sick, too, Reg?”

Reggie rolls his eyes. “No, Luke, not really. I just pretended so that I could go home with you guys. You are going home, right?”

“Yeah, he barely lasted one class, he’s not staying the whole day,” Bobby says, ignoring the petulant glare Luke shoots him.

“Then I’m going with you.” Reggie glances nervously between them. “Unless… you don’t want me to?”

“No,” Luke says quickly. “No, I want both of you. Please.”

Reggie grins. Bobby’s stomach flips.

“Fine, I guess we’re all sick, then,” he grumbles, ducking his head to hide his blush, and points to Luke and Reggie each in turn. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.”

It’s unfairly easy for Bobby to convince the nurse to let him drive Luke and Reggie home, since they’re both “so sick” (he doesn’t even have to pretend to be sick himself. The nurse takes one look at Luke and agrees to let Bobby go with him for no reason, if only to get his germ-ridden friend off school property).

It’s a little less easy to call Emily Patterson at work and explain to her that he’s Luke’s friend, no, ma’am, he’s really sick, I don’t mind taking him back to my house until you get off work, yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure he gets all his homework, etc, etc, etc.

Reggie’s parents don’t even pick up. Bobby has a fake conversation with “Reggie’s dad” just so he can tell the nurse with some level of confidence that Reggie’s been given permission to go home with him, too. He’s not sure she believes him. He doesn’t think she cares.

“You’re gonna get sick,” Bobby says when he returns to find Luke lying on the bed with his eyes closed, head in Reggie’s lap, sniffling into Reggie’s pant leg while Reggie strokes his hair back out of his face.

“I think he’s got a fever now,” he says, which is not at all a response to what Bobby said. “Are we ready to go?”

Bobby gives a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

***

As Luke gets worse, he also gets clingier. Which, really, Bobby should’ve expected. It’s one thing in the car, where Bobby can roll the windows down and focus on driving while Luke stretches out all over Reggie in the backseat, coughing and sniffling and ignoring Bobby whenever he reminds him to cover his damn mouth.

Once they get back to his house, though, Bobby washes his hands about fifteen times in a row, then heads into the studio with the intention of recommending that Reggie do the same, only to find Reggie and Luke curled up on the pull-out couch together, fast asleep.

For a minute or two, Bobby just stands there, watching them. Both of them idiots, one of them disgusting, and yet… god, he loves both of them so much. How fucking stupid is that?

Luke’s gonna get Reggie sick, if he hasn’t already; that’s just an inevitability at this point. And then one or both of them is going to get Bobby sick, and it’s going to suck, because colds always hit Bobby super hard for no good reason, which is why he tries so hard to avoid catching them.

But a few days of misery is worth it, he guesses, if he can spend today taking Luke’s temperature and rubbing his back and forcing Vitamin C on both him and Reggie until they’re both sick of him.

And at least, whatever happens, he can blame this whole thing on Alex.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #rebuke #bibobceps #bobby wilson #bobby shaw #reggie peters #luke patterson #sickfic #prompt fill #500 followers aaaah!!!

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wisterialagoon · 4 years ago

Text

For you, I'll stay : pt1

Dabi is one of the top soldiers of the League of Villains. He does the dirty work and feels the stain of crime on his hands. You're an Assistant Inspector at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, resigned to records-keeping instead of doing actual fieldwork. What happens when these two become intertwined in the most prominent political event that changed the era of 1990's Tokyo Japan?

Warnings: Violence (a girl gets beat up in this chapter), gangs, eventual smut(not in this chapter tho)

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Agency, Kantō Region, Japan.

January 9th, 1990, Tuesday.

22:30 hrs.

"It's going to be a long night," she thought, while fixing her desk for the fifth time. There was a haphazard pile of file folders, an unboxed diskette pack, and coffee cup stains all over her table calendar. She quickly reorganises the file folders, placing them in chronological order, then according to crime. Then, she matches the diskettes, which contain additional data such as interrogation footage, with each pile. Lastly, she makes her way to the pantry to refill her mug with coffee, humming along to a tune that was receiving more airplay recently.

It was an uneventful night, to say the least. As usual, she worked overtime, working on organising the paperwork and records of each case-from instigation to case management. She loved it initially, but now that she's six months into this new assignment, she could feel herself wearing down with how emotionally, physically and mentally taxing everything is. It wasn't so much the quantity or frequency of the load, but the content itself.

Seeing death, rape, theft and disappearances on a daily basis was starting to take a toll on her mental health, and even if she learned how to compartmentalise, there was something about seeing all the details that made her sleep less and less these days. The photos of dead bodies or visages of crying relatives would disturb her to no end, and having to type out each case report even if it meant tagging it as a cold case, was something that never really sat well with her.

Her direct senior, the only female Inspector in the agency-the only one who was actually nice, unlike the rest of the police force who talk about her during lunch breaks and agency dinners-tell her that the feeling of being "uninvolved" and "useless" will soon pass. "Besides," she tells her during one of the rare nights that they're both doing overtime, "You've got potential."

She sighs, wary of the compliment. "I just... I wish I could be doing more."

"You'll have your fair share of fieldwork and interrogations, Y/N" she says, patting the younger girl's shoulder. "Just keep working well, and the Chief will soon see your potential."

That last line resonated with her the most. She knew that the Chief was a firm leader-he did routine inspections, called people in his office to ask for status reports and he'd set all sorts of deadlines. But he was also known for being experienced in reading people just with one look.

So the question was, what was his assessment of her?

Did the Chief view her just like how the rest of the agency did-an Assistant Inspector who was only fit for clerical work even if she had graduated at the top of her class? Did he even notice her presence in the building-or was she too conscious of all the judgemental stares thrown her way because she was the first female recruit in a long while?

That was it, she thought, not noticing that her cup had overflowed.

With a sharp curse, she flung her hand away from the scalding beverage, and moved to grab some tissues-her mind thoroughly forgetting the questions that had darted in her mind not a minute ago.

As she dabbled the tissue on her hands and shirt, the police hotline rang, disturbing the silence of the otherwise empty floor. Alarmed at the prospect of a crime or report coming in at this hour, she runs towards the desk of the patrol and public safety unit.

"SMPA, what is your concern?" she asks, voice surprisingly level. When there wasn't a response, she asks again, this time a notch louder.

"Kidnapping," the voice cuts through the radio silence, its texture a rich timbre with a raspy undertone. Caught off guard at the mention of a kidnapping, she scrambles for a notepad and a pen. "23:00, 6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan. Takahashi Yua." In hastily written script, she takes note of the details, not once interrupting the man on the line.

"Who is this? Where is your intel from?" she finally asks, after she hears mere breathing sounds. "Hello?"

The person on the line doesn't respond, instead opting to breathe heavily before the line dies.

"Wha-" she exhales, overwhelmed with the situation. It wasn't unheard of for random tips to come in the station, that much was true. But a tip at this time? And with that much detail? She was wary enough that there wasn't any crime traffic recently but this is proving to be the suspicious exception.

Shaking off her doubts, she dials the home number of Inspector Sato, the head of the patrol and public safety unit. She knows he'll definitely give her an earful for calling at such a late hour-and to his house no less, but if what the man said was true, and if her gut was right, someone was after the daughter of the Minister of National Defense.

At the sixth ring, he picks up and greets her with a litany of questions. "Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is? Whoever you are, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up!" he rattles off, temper flaring.

"This is Miyasaki Y/N, sir." she says, surprised at how stable her voice was. "Assistant Inspec-"

"Ah, the personal assistant." his tongue clicks, and even if she didn't see, she knew he was shaking his head. "What is it? Here to ask help again in records-keeping?"

At that, she presses her mouth in a thin line, stopping herself from giving him a piece of her mind. She knew that they would always find fault in whatever she does but sometimes she wants to just put them in their place and prove herself.

But now wasn't the time to do that.

"No, sir." she starts, fisting her hand. "There's been an emergency call to the patrol and public service hotline. A tip was given about a kidnapping at apartment 6 Chome-10-1 in Roppongi -"

"Let me stop you right there." he expels a deep breath, clearly uninterested with her report. "You do know what that area is like, right? Or do you not even know where it is?"

"It's in Minato city. The residence listed houses many important political figures, it has national defence" she says, foregoing the other details and taking the opportunity to transition to the most important part. "Sir, you see, this could actually mean that-"

"This means that there is no kidnapping. I mean, if you're trying to pull a joke, it's a terrible one. Hell, there's hardly any crime in that area!" he gives a dry laugh. "it's an executive residential area, guarded and all that. As you said, National Defence is there and so are diplomats and expats. No one in their right mind would attempt a prank call, let alone a kidnapping."

"But the caller gave a name, possibly that of the victim. We should send a team, I have the address. I could lead the-" again, he cuts her off. At this point, a vein was threatening to pop at how unprofessional he was being, but she'd rather not break out into an argument with a direct senior-especially when he was clearly already annoyed at her.

"So this is why you really called, huh?" he chuckles. "Look, no one knows how you got in, or what strings you pulled to pass the Academy, but at the rate you're going, you'll never lead a team-much less my team." the certainty in his voice washed over her, causing her to remain silent at his blatant jibe. "So go back to whatever you're doing and don't even attempt to call me or anyone from the agency to waste their time with your tall tales." the other line clicks, ending their phone call.

Exasperated, she puts down the receiver with a little too much force than was necessary. "Fine, I'll do it myself." she mutters, putting on her coat, muffler and grabbing her car keys.

30 minutes. She'll have to pray that she makes it. After all, she doesn't have much time.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:00 hrs.

The gate to the apartment building alone rendered her speechless. Pure brass balusters and a towering guardhouse greeted her, complete with intimidating security personnel who wasted no time in asking for her identification.

"Assistant Inspector Lee, from the SMPA. We received a tip about criminal activity taking place in the vicinity of this residence," she starts, not giving any specific details. "This won't take long." she adds, as a last ditch effort to convince them that she means business.

"Alright," one of the guards lets her through. As she rolled up her window, she catches a muffled dialogue between the two. "Isn't she a little too young to be an Inspector? And criminal activity? Talk about absurd."

Scoffing, she speeds up to the address the caller gave and in a few minutes, found herself outside the apartment building. But she was too late. There, standing by the of the main entrance, was the defence Minister himself, with blood on his hands and a shell-shocked expression.

"My daughter..." she hears him mutter. From just behind the door, she hears distant voices screaming for someone to call the police. "Dial the police! Or call the National Defense for all I care! Someone do something!" the voice got louder as she linked it with a face-Takahashi Riku, the Minister's wife. As if seeing the police lights flashing atop her car, The ministers knees gave out.

She makes haste to catch him before he falls, and as she does, she gets her shirt stained with blood, and scrapes her elbow with the force of his weight. Not minding the sting of the wind blowing by her scraped skin, she pulls out her walkie-talkie, and radios the police patrolling Roppongi that night.

"This is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N, does anyone copy?" she starts, practically shouting. For some reason, she felt an adrenaline rush at the development of events. "Repeat, this is Assistant Inspector Miyasaki, does anyone copy?"

After a few beats, a voice breaks through the white noise. "This is Inspector Takami, copy. What's your 10-13?"

"I've got a two zero seven." she says, forgetting that she hadn't even scouted the area for verification that a kidnapping actually took place. "6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City. Send a medic for shock treatment." she rattles off, surprised at herself for actually being able to focus and act given the situation.

Then again, this was her job. Her first fieldwork-albeit unwarranted and unapproved.

"Copy that, 10-4. I'll run code. ETA twenty minutes." he affirms his direct response before ending the dispatch call.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:20 hrs.

After twenty minutes, two police cars pull up the driveway. One belonged to Inspector Takami, the other was the patrol for back-up. He closes the gap between them in five, quick strides, hands in his coat's pockets.

"What happened?" he asks, ready for a briefing.

"There's nothing definitive yet..." she trails off, mentally berating herself for not even scouting the interior to study the scene. "But I've spoken to the family."

"You mean you've spoken to the Minister of National Defense." he supplies, his breath fogging up in front of him. "What did he say?"

"The family heard the door slam shut, and when he went to check his daughter was gone," hesitant, she clears her throat as a stalling method. "He found her in the marking lot, the girl was bruised and bloodied, unconscious. Looks like she was forced to inhale somthing, and her hands were tied."

"Attempted kidnapping?" he asks, stealing a glance at the apartment buildings façade.

"High chance for it." she answers, clearing her throat again. "Listen, Inspector, I received a tip in the agency around an hour ago-saying something about a kidnapping taking place at this time, at this exact address."

He raises his eyebrows, evidently taken aback at this new piece of information. "And?" he asks, expectant.

"And I think this is a set-up." she declares, sure of something for the first time that night. "Whoever is behind this, wanted us to come, thinking it was a kidnapping when it was an assault and break-and-entry."

"What are you getting at, Miyasaki?"

"There's a reason why Miss. Takahashi was assaulted and not kidnapped. They're telling us something." she says, handing out her notepad which contained the details of the emergency call a while back.

"What do you think this could possibly be then?"

"I don't know... yet." fuelled with conviction, she fists her hands at her sides, no longer feeling that sensation of helplessness or uselessness back in the agency when she was working on records-keeping. "But I'll find out."

9-chome, Kitakarasuyama, Setagaya-ku, Tokyo.

Assistant Inspector Miyasaki Y/N's Residence.

02:00 hrs.

Finally back at her apartment after filing the case and sending off the Minister's family with words of certainty about exhausting their whole force on the job, she slumps on the sofa, feeling her body become dead weight.

"God..." she sighs, fatigued. "That was a long night."

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novasintheroom · 4 years ago

Note

Hiya~ :D Saw your requests were open. Mind if I ask for one, please? Would you do me the honour of writing a 'lil somethin' somethin' with the bois' fem!S/O seeing them cry for the first time and how she would handle it? 2003 or Bayverse, your choice. ;) Please?

I had this ask nearly done and then my computer ATE it lmao I’m so sorry it took this long to answer!!!

Leo

· Takes a lot to get this guy to cry tbh. Has to be something really tragic or traumatizing to get him going. That, or watching Coco

· Which is exactly how you see him cry for the first time

· The guys hadn’t seen many Disney movies, so you decide to rectify that with a Disney night. Coco is first, and Leo is Unprepared™ for Miguel and Coco singing together at the end

· He has to leave like right after because he’s holding back sobs, and you’re like ‘wtf’. Like, it’s sad, and you’re a bit teary-eyed, but it’s not that bad, right?

· You follow him and find him in a corner deep in the lair trying to get it together. You ask him what’s up, and he confesses that seeing Coco so old reminded him that Splinter’s getting old too, and he’s worried about keeping his family together once he passes

· All of Raph’s threats to leave over the years have really dug under his skin

· Gall, it’s heart wrenching to see him trying to hold it in and apologizing for his “stupid” worries. So you wrap him in a hug and tell him it’s okay to be sad about it, and to let it out. You’re surprised when he does start crying, even though it’s quiet.

· You also tell him that he’s never gonna lose his family or you, even after Splinter’s gone. His family’s gonna stick around because everyone loves him.

· He doesn’t cry much (read: at all) after that, but he comes to you a lot more when something bothers him or makes him sad. Really helps your relationship improve overall!

Raph

· 2nd most likely to cry out of the brothers. He’s an emotional guy okay.

· Hates to be caught crying though lmao – would rather die before admit he shed a tear

· First time you see him cry, you catch him on your roof before he can leave

· It’s a surprise, since you weren’t expecting to see him that night, but you’re happy to see him anyways.

· He’s a bit distant, though, like he’s trying to decide to leave or not. You ask him what’s up, and he just mumbles something you can’t hear. You ask again, and he sighs this aggravated sound and just sits on the roof

· “I ran into some humans tonight. Stopped a mugging happening. Was gonna just get outta there after, but the people I saved started throwing rocks and bottles at me. Callin’ me a freak.”

· You didn’t know, but that’s the third time this week that’s happened. He may not show it like Mikey, but that stuff still hurts to hear, even if it’s gotten a bit better working with the NYPD

· He starts ranting about it, about how people just don’t care anymore, that he should’ve just let them get mugged instead of helping them because they didn’t deserve help (he doesn’t mean it, Splinter’s taught him better; but you know how anger can fuel meaningless words)

· You sit beside him, dangling your feet over the roof’s side, and take his hand in yours while he talks. His throat grows tight, and he has to stop a few times to keep the tears from falling, and when one does, he just gets more angry and starts on another tangent. He doesn’t move from your side, though. You’re a balm to his wounds.

· Eventually all he can do is breathe heavy, and in a broken voice, ask, “Why was I made like this? It’s not fair.” Gall, if that doesn’t just break your heart…

· So you hug his arm, and tell him how much you love him. He’s right, it’s not fair that he has to live in the shadows, away from people when all he wants is to be normal. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve love and happiness, and you promise that you’ll always love him for him, not for what he could be or should be.

· It’s exactly what he needs to hear. He knew there was a reason he came to you that night.

· He still tries to not cry around you, but this experience helps him feel more comfortable in being vulnerable with you.

Donnie

· Nearly as unlikely to cry as Leo, but not quite

· His crying usually comes from tears of frustration more than anything

· He’s a determined guy, and is hard-pressed to give up on something when he puts his mind to it

· But man it’s aggravating when that tech he’s been working on for months just keeps blowing up or just won’t work and he can’t figure out why

· That’s how you find him and see him cry for the first time. You come into the lair, rearing to have some fun with new tech Donnie said he was working on. When you get to his lab, he’s hunched over his desk. He didn’t notice you come in, and he sniffs a few times

· Your hand on his shell makes him jump, and he tries wiping the tears away with the tails of his mask, asking you when you got here, how’s your day, oh no, he’s fine, just a bit of dust trailing in from the sewers

· The air filter rattling at the desk makes that a bit doubtful

· So you pull the paper screen he has nearby around the desk to give a bit more privacy and ask him what’s wrong. He tries to deny it – “it’s just dust, my eyes are tired from the screens,” etc. etc. – but then you ask about the little bug-like device sitting in front of him, and he sighs like all the world is wrong. It’s a new mobile spying device he’d been developing for tracking Foot Clan people in hard-to-reach places (i.e. lots of humans around), but its legs keep locking up, or the sound cuts out, and it’s so tiny and his hands are so big despite the tools he has specifically for that kind of stuff

· A few more tears leak out, and he wipes them again

· So you offer to help him with the little things – not just the bug, but getting him the water and food he’s been neglecting for hours as well

· A full stomach always brings up anyone’s mood

· You also force him to take a break and catch up on an episode of a TV show you’ve both been watching

· He feels a lot better after all the care, and is so glad to have you around – especially when you get the bug’s legs working for the first time

Mikey

· Oh he’s a crier, baby

· If he hasn’t had a good cry in a month, something’s wrong. He fully subscribes to the belief that a good cry relieves stress lol

· First time you see him cry is when you guys are just watching YouTube videos on your phone. One of those charity ads pop up for impounded and abused animals, and he is just gone. Sobbing into your shoulder, reaching for a blanket to wipe his nose on, the works

· You’re just so caught off guard – like one minute you guys are laughing at some gamer playing Phasmophobia, the next he’s blubbering about the “poor kitties and dogs” and “why are people so cruel!”

· Raph walks by and throws a tissue pack your way. “He’s gonna be there a minute. Get comfy.”

· So you comfort Mikey, rubbing his shell and handing him tissues when one gets too soaked. His cry sessions usually morph into other things he’s been stressing or sad about, so it’s a lot of talking over the meaning of life, morals, etc. etc.

· He even manages to get you to cry a bit, and then he’s comforting you about whatever you’re getting off your chest

· Once it’s over, he’s back to his happy self, with a weight off his shoulders that honestly he didn’t realize was there

· You learn to carry tissues in your pocket from then on – you never know when a stray kitten could set him off lmao

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rookie-ramsey · 4 years ago

Text

Curveball, Chapter 6

Description: Two months after the ski lodge, life throws them a big surprise.

Preview: The words left Sienna’s mouth in a rush. “Olivia’s in labor. She’s in the ER right now. She was in a car accident and isn’t badly hurt, but it triggered labor.”

At that, Ethan felt his heart stop. His throat clenched, suddenly dry with worry. He didn’t remember breaking into a run, but the hallways of the hospital blurred past him as his feet carried him to the ER.

previous chapter

The baby shower began with lunch. Olivia got to go first, making sure to take at least one of everything. She took a seat next to Ethan at the table and leaned against his side as they started eating.

“How does it feel seeing a baby shower in your apartment? It looks like the baby aisle at Walmart exploded in here.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’m more concerned about what the conversation over there is related to.”

She arched a brow, watching curiously as Sienna whispered with Olivia’s mother and siblings and Alan in the corner of the room. “What could our relatives be gossiping about? My sister is writing something.”

“It’s hard to tell.”

After a few minutes, Sienna stood up and grinned. “We’re going to warm up with a little guessing game. I’ll tell a childhood story about one of the parents, and you guys get to guess who it was!”

Olivia couldn’t contain an amused smirk. “I guess this means I get to hear some more delightful Little Ethan stories.”

“Apparently so.” Ethan sighed.

Sienna glanced down at the paper and giggled before reading. “This parent used to wear a white bathrobe and plastic stethoscope and played hospital with stuffed animals. Who thinks that was Olivia?”

Several hands went up. Ethan bit back a smirk as her cheeks flushed a little.

“That’s right,” her mom confirmed. “She waltzed around the house in a little white robe, used every room in the house as a hospital room for her ‘patients,’ and insisted that we had to give them privacy.”

“It sounds like I’m finally getting some blackmail material,” Ethan whispered, earning an eye roll.

“Sure you are. Nothing will ever be more embarrassing than little you making out with your teddy bear.”

Sienna moved onto the next one. “True or false! When Ethan was really little, he had a fascination with Band-Aids.”

“Why do I think that’s true?” Olivia grinned.

“Because it is,” Alan confirmed. “When he was a toddler, all it took was a box of Band-Aids to keep him amused for several minutes. Of course, he put them on everything he could get his hands on. His toys, the furniture… the interior of the car on a road trip.”

Olivia laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s wasteful.” Ethan shook his head, trying not to smile. The game continued for several minutes until people were finished eating.

Curious, Olivia watched as Sienna set out several unlabeled jars of baby food. “What are those for?”

Sienna grinned. “People have to guess the flavor by smelling it or taking a tiny taste if they’re brave enough. Just a heads up, the smells and tastes may not always be accurate!”

“Who goes first?”

“You pick.” Sienna handed her a basket containing slips of paper. Olivia reached it into, digging her fingers through the papers until she picked one. She opened it slowly to increase the suspense and smirked when she read the name.

“Zaid.”

Zaid startled, his eyes widening. “What?”

Amused, Olivia revealed the paper slip with his name on it. “You get to go first.”

Ines laughed and nudged Zaid toward the table. “Do it.”

He sighed. “I should have listened to my conscience and not put my name on that paper. I should have known better.”

Baz rolled his eyes and grinned. “Okay, Eeyore. Be a fair sport and play the game.”

Giving in, Zaid picked up the first jar and took a tentative sniff. He immediately set it down. “Is that supposed to smell edible? Because it does not.” He jotted down an answer on the slip of paper and reluctantly moved to the next one.

Olivia picked the second name. “Bryce, you’re up. Don’t chicken out.”

“You think I’d really back down? Never.” He picked up the first jar and smelled it, wrinkling his nose with uncertainty.

Jackie snorted. “I’ll pay you ten bucks to taste a mouthful.”

“Deal.”

Sienna handed Bryce a clean tongue depressor from the bag of supplies. “Here you go.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Are those from the hospital?”

“We didn’t have enough plastic spoons!”

“Stealing an entire Ziploc baggie of tongue depressors from a hospital that has thousands of them? Badass.” Bryce laughed and dug out a scoop of the baby food. He put it in his mouth, immediately making a face.

“Ten dollars,” Jackie reminded him.

Bryce swallowed it and tried not to gag. “That… was gross. Zaid, I’ll do your clinic hours if you try it.”

Zaid rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a moron? Don’t answer that.”

After a few more games, they sat down to open the inordinate number of presents occupying their apartment. Olivia grabbed the first one and dug through the tissue paper until she found two tiny sets of pajamas designed to look like scrubs.

“These are so cute!”

Elijah grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Olivia picked a large present from her mom and nudged it toward Ethan. “Open that.”

Ethan removed the paper, exposing a box that seemed to contain some sort of sophisticated trash can. “What in god’s name is this?”

Rebecca laughed. “It’s a diaper genie! It’s basically a fancy trash can that’s supposed to contain the diaper smell inside them.”

“These exist?”

Rebecca chuckled. “Yes, and believe me, you’ll need it. If not for the diaper smell, then to stop them from getting into it when they learn to walk. When Olivia was a year old, she felt like knocking over a trash can full of diapers. Worst mess I ever had to clean up.”

“Really, Mom?” Olivia groaned. She opened the next present, which was from Sienna. She opened it and grinned as she dug out two stuffed dolphins, as well as two little onesies with dolphins on them.

“What do you think?”

“I love them!” Olivia folded the tiny outfits and put them back in the bag. She opened several more gifts, collecting plenty of clothes, diapers, and other necessities. When she opened the present from Baz, she giggled and held up the four matching sets of Christmas pajamas.

Ethan stared at them, his expression blank. “It’s October.”

Baz grinned. “So?”

“These are perfect. And I will make it my life’s goal to get Ethan to wear his.” Olivia gave Ethan a pointed look, wordlessly telling him he would not win the argument even if it wouldn’t happen for another two months.

Once most of her guests had left, Olivia curled up on the couch and rummaged through the gifts. Bryce and Sienna stayed to help her family clean up while Ethan helped her sort through their presents.

“I think this is my favorite.” She held up the picture frame from Alan, containing a copy of one of their sonograms and an empty slot they would use for a newborn picture when the twins were born.

Ethan thumbed through the customized journal from Naveen. His other hand subconsciously rested on Olivia’s stomach, and a moment later he felt the now-familiar little kick against his palm.

Olivia smiled, lightly placing her hand on top of his. “I don’t think you’ll ever know how cute you are when you do that. I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it half the time.”

“I guess it’s become an instinct.” Ethan slipped his arm around her.

“A cute instinct.” She gave his hand a squeeze. Stifling a yawn, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it’s already October. By December, they’ll be here. I feel like it’s gone by fast and slowly at the same.”

Nodding in agreement, Ethan pressed a kiss to her head. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Opening presents and eating is a lot of work when you have two people inside of you.”

He chuckled and drew her closer to his side. “I’m sure it is.”

Olivia draped her arm across him and snuggled into his chest. A mischievous smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I never thought I’d see Dr. Antisocial Ramsey attending a baby shower.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “You forget that I’m capable of surprises.”

XXXXXX

It didn’t take long for maternity leave to give her cabin fever.

Since twins were almost always born earlier than expected, she scheduled her C-section for the 37th week. Even that was pushing it, but she wanted to let them develop as long as possible.

Halfway through her fourth episode of House, her phone chimed with a message from Ethan. She picked up her phone and grinned when she saw a picture of two baby onesies, each with the caption “Relax, my parents are doctors.”

She grinned as she looked at the picture to see that the onesies were blue and green to match Edenbrook’s logo. She typed a response, glancing at the time and realizing she would need to get ready for her appointment soon.

As she showered and dressed, a kick in her abdomen reminded her of just how soon their lives would change.

XXXXXX

As 1:30 approached, Ethan slipped out of his office to meet Olivia for her 35-week appointment. He pocketed his phone and car keys and made his way toward the elevator.

“Ethan!”

Ethan stopped, turning at the urgency of the voice behind him. He frowned, seeing Sienna rush toward him. “What happened?”

The words left Sienna’s mouth in a rush. “Olivia’s in labor. She’s in the ER right now. She was in a car accident and isn’t badly hurt, but it triggered labor.”

He made his way to the closed curtain in the corner and shoved it aside, finding Olivia resting on the bed with Bryce standing at her side. She held an ice pack to her bruised temple, clutching her stomach with her other hand.

Olivia looked up, her eyes wide with panic. “Ethan, it’s… it’s too soon for this to happen! I’m not supposed to have the C-section for two more weeks! My… my water broke in the cab…”

“Shh…” Unsure if he was trying to calm himself or her, Ethan took her face into his hands and met her worried eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay. I want you to take a deep breath and focus on me. Okay?”

Breathing shakily, she tried to take a deep breath. The heart monitor next to her beeped sharply, indicating her rising blood pressure. She winced when a contraction tore through her.

Ethan looked up, forcing his voice to remain steady for her sake. “Lahela, who’s on the OR floor right now?”

“Tanaka, but he’s in a heart transplant right now.”

“Scrub in.”

Bryce’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? I’m her friend.”

“Bryce, please. We can’t risk waiting too long,” Olivia pleaded, her voice trembling.

Bryce took one look into his best friend’s panicked eyes and nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Taking Olivia’s hand into his own, Ethan let out a small sigh of relief. “How nervous will you be?”

“More nervous than I’d be operating on a stranger, but I can do it. I promise,” Bryce assured him. “Let’s go.”

Ethan moved to the head of the bed. He kept a firm grip on Olivia’s hand as they rushed to the available operating room. Her hand clutched his tightly, seeking the reassurance. When they reached the OR, she squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of tears.

“Hey…” Ethan’s hand cradled her cheek. “Everything will be alright. Please try to believe me.”

“I’m trying…”

He helped her turn onto her side so she could receive the injection for the spinal block. Olivia gripped his hand, wincing when the needle pierced her skin. She let out a long sigh as Ethan gently turned her onto her back again.

Sensing her need for comfort, Ethan brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Talk to me. Try not to focus on the risks right now. Tell me the likelihood of both babies being fine.”

Olivia’s face furrowed in thought as she wracked her mind. “Babies delivered at 35 weeks have a 99 percent chance of survival, presuming that they don’t have pre-existing conditions.”

Ethan nodded, relieved when she seemed to relax a little. “You’re right. Remember that.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he tried to convince himself to believe his own words. They gave the spinal block five minutes to take effect before transferring her to the operating table.

Ethan’s heart thudded against his ribs as Bryce and the surgical team he’d assembled gathered around, ready to begin. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time.”

“I’ve done one solo and assisted on three. I can do this,” Bryce assured him. He took a deep breath and firmly gripped the correct scalpel. “Ready to make the first incision.”

Ethan rested his hand on Olivia’s cheek. His thumb gently grazed her jaw. “Bryce is starting now. Focus on me and think about the fact that in just a few minutes, the babies will be here and they’ll be fine.”

Olivia leaned into his hand and drew in a long breath. With the numbing agent, she couldn’t feel the incisions. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on Ethan’s fingers raking gently through her hair.

The minutes that passed ticked by agonizingly as she tried to think about anything other than the chance of something beyond their control going wrong. Her racing heart slowed just a little, allowing some of the tension to leave her body when Bryce announced that they were in.

“Everything’s going fine. Just keep hanging in there, okay? I can see the first baby,” Bryce assured her.

“Hear that?” Ethan laced his fingers through hers. “They’ll be out soon.”

Olivia nodded, her movements slowing a little. The monitor next to her beeped as her blood pressure suddenly started to drop, first to a normal rate and then a little lower. Ethan frowned, worry etching his features.

“Her BP is dropping. She could become hypotensive.” He knew the complication was common during cesareans and that there was only a minimal chance of serious risks, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing faster.

Bryce picked up the pace a little, keeping his hands steady as he finished the incision and instructed one of the other residents to place the clamps. “We’re ready to get baby number one out!”

Moments later, a cry rang through the operating room as Bryce removed the first baby. When Bryce passed the newborn to him, Ethan reacted with an instinct he didn’t know he had and immediately cradled his son in his arms.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, swelling with affection. Olivia blined groggily before slipping into unconsciousness. His throat tightened with anxiety as he reluctantly surrendered the newborn to a nurse for an examination.

“Olivia.” He firmly patted her cheek, torn between fear and relief when she let out a subconscious groan in response. A minute later, he looked up as Bryce removed the second baby.

For a long moment, time slowed to a crawl when the baby remained quiet. Just as Ethan felt his chest clench with panic, the newborn emitted a loud cry that made him weak in the knees. He held his arms out, accepting his daughter into them. His heart stuttered in his chest as he gazed down at the fussing baby.

He held her for a few moments before letting the nurses take her. His mind swam with mixed emotions as he returned to Olivia’s side.

Ethan waited nervously as Bryce closed her up. A relieved sigh escaped him when Olivia’s blood pressure started to creep towards normal. “Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“Good work.”

Once Olivia was transferred into a private room, Ethan stepped into the hallway. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and started the call. “Dad? If you’re not busy, you might want to make a trip to Boston…”

“Is everything okay?”

“Your grandchildren were just born. I thought I’d… did you already hang up?” Shaking his head, Ethan slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up as Naveen approached him, a wide grin on his face.

“I just heard some gossip that my two favorite employees just became parents.”

Ethan nodded, unable to stop a wide smile from forming on his face. Naveen pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight. Ethan returned it, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “Olivia passed out during the C-section, but she’ll be okay. She should be awake in just a couple of minutes.”

“I won’t keep you from her. I’ll come meet those babies later. You go be with your family.” Naveen released him and squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you.” The smile never left Ethan’s face as he quietly slipped back into the room to check on Olivia and the babies.

His family.

He liked the sound of that.

Next Chapter

Note: This was definitely my favorite chapter so far. Stay tuned for more!

#open heart #choices #choices: open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc

195 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years ago

Text

Gregory Week - Flowers

Day 2 of Gregory Edgeworth Week (note: contains delayed speech Miles and Gregory excited when he does start talking. He’d had taken steps to learn how to communicate even if Miles didn’t talk because he loves his son but please take care of yourselves.)

“So when do I get to meet the most important person in you life Gregory?”

She smiled at him and his chest ached. He wanted to run his fingers down the length of her braid. Kiss every blossom weaved in. She was beautiful and kind and perfect.

“Soon Flora. Soon.”

He sat on the floor next to Miles as he sorted through his building blocks. Arranged them by color and size. “There is someone I would like you to meet. If you would be partial to that.”

Miles considered one of the strange pieces. Debated where to put it. Set it down carefully so all the lines were straight. Nodded.

“Thank you.” He outlined when she would come over and for how long. Miles always appreciated that. Knowing exactly what he was up against. It made grocery store runs less daunting for them both.

Hopefully this would be less upsetting than the grocery store.

She brought a large bouquet of flowers with her.

“Don’t worry, we were going to throw them out anyway. Oh! But- But I’m not trying to give you subpar flowers it’s only that-”

He took them. Cradled them in his arms. Breathed in their sweet scent. “I love them.” He wasn’t sure anyone had ever given him flowers before. Not before her. Kept them on the desk at work until she threw them out and replaced them with new ones.

It was the little things like that. Like how she packed an extra orange for him because those convenience store meals don’t have any fruit in them Gregory! You have to take better care of yourself! You’ll get scurvy! Or how she reminded him to sort through the mail collecting on his desk. Or just pulled him up out of his chair to stretch.

Or how she laughed so bright and warm and it filled his chest. Just like it did when Miles giggled.

He wanted to be good for them. Be better. Be put together and organized and not be constantly two weeks behind on laundry and debating which of Miles shirts had the least amount of stains so people wouldn’t think he was failing as a parent.

“Well I like doing laundry Gregory. And we all need a little help sometimes.”

Oh he could love her. Marry her. One day.

“This is Flora, Miles. She’s one of my friends.”

Miles hid his face in his pant leg. Waved with one hand and clung with the other.

Her lips pressed together into a frown. Cast a worried gaze up to him.

“When you said he wasn’t talking yet, I thought he was younger.”

Add this to the list of ways he’s already failed Miles as a father. That he didn’t know they were missing milestones.

She sits next to Miles as he flips through the pages of his favorite book. Evidence law. There’s a little chick on the front with a deerstalker. He’s had to move his current law books up out of the reach of sticky fingers because Miles loved to take them out and stare at them. Mirror him as he read his own tomes. Although these couldn’t be interesting, they were just text.

Miles wiped his nose against his sleeve again. A button up with a bowtie. If he dressed Miles up fancy enough maybe no one wouldn’t notice how his shirts hadn’t been ironed in months. She leaned closer and pointed to one of the pictures. Braid with all those beautiful flowers falling over her shoulder. Asked him a question about it.

Miles sneezed. A tiny kitten of a sneeze. Neither could stop the instant coo. His sneezes were just so cute. Miles tugs on his sleeve and then covered his nose with both hands. Tissue please. He understands. Retrieves one and hands it to him. Blows his nose with a honk.

(I hope he isn’t catching a cold.)

Dinner is Miles favorite. Which isn’t the most impressive of meals but in the debate between impressing Flora and making sure Miles was as happy and content as possible for the duration of the meeting, keeping Miles happy had won. Besides, he barely had time to clean the spaces she’d see before she’d come over, much less make something fancy.

He reaches out and strokes the soft petal of the flowers on the table. They really made this place seem nice. Adult. Not like the bachelor pad turned baby playground it was. They could go to the farmers market together, swing Miles between them, and buy fresh fruit that wouldn’t rot in the bottom drawer half the time. Purchase nice art to hang on the walls. Always have fresh flowers for the vase. Have enough time to actually clean the dust he’d only noticed built up on the shelves once she’d stepped in the door.

(You’re getting ahead of yourself Gregory. Taking things too fast.)

“Miles dear? Is something wrong?” Flora asked.

He was wiping at his cheeks. Tears flowing. Snot running down his face. Discomfort and distress in every line. Breaths ragged like the start of a meltdown.

“Miles?!”

He scooted off his chair. Ran to his room. The door slammed closed behind him.

They stared at each other. Those beautiful flowers framing the shot.

Wilted alongside them.

“I should go check on Miles.”

He could never tell what the problem was with Flora. Miles seemed to like her right up until he started crying out of the clear blue. Began to sulk whenever they’d go to see her.

“I’m sorry Flora. Perhaps when he’s older...”

He knows she won’t wait that long.

She shouldn’t have to.

She leaves him with a dried flower and a book on sign language.

“So we can communicate even if you don’t talk.” He says and signs achingly slow. Has rehearsed these motions countless times in preparation. He wants to hear his son’s voice more than anything. But even more than that he wants him to be happy and understood. “I love you Miles.”

Miles plays with his trench coat. Fiddles with his attorney’s badge. He’s always worried Miles will pop it off and hurt himself. So far he’s been content to just shine and admire it. Cocks his head the way he does when he doesn’t understand a direction. Say that again?

He does. Begins to repeat the explanation on sign language. Miles shakes his head. Waves his hand. “Just the last part?” Nods. He hesitates. “I love you Miles.” He says and signs.

Miles watches his hand. Looks down at his own. Adjusts his right hand into position with his left.

I love you. He signs back.

His glasses immediately begin to fog. Tears blinding his eyes. “Can I…” Oh he doesn’t remember that word. He’ll just have to make one up for now. “Hug you?” Held his arms out wide. Shrugged his shoulders. Cocked his head.

Miles nodded and climbed into his arms. Pressed his ears against his chest. As if listening to his heartbeat.

I love you. I love you. I love you. He hoped Miles heard with every single beat.

I love you.

Miles played quietly under the bench as he argued his case. He didn’t like bringing Miles to court – one very prominent memory from when Miles was even smaller that ended in him covered in sick, making closing arguments through tears, and lightheaded with hunger came to mind. He really should have just switched to formula sooner. He hadn’t been able to keep up with the calorie demand. – But the Judge was always incredibly lenient about such things. Had taken a crying Miles off his hands to rock him to calm more than once. Refused to give him back until the trial was over, cooing his questions to Miles the entire time.

Wait. Did he just say-

“Hold it!” He began to say. Your statement contains a contradiction.

“HOLD IT!”A voice he did not recognize called out. High and loud. Young. He glanced around for it’s source. “Or Statement contains a,” Hesitation. He peered over the bench to the voices origin. To where the prosecutors, judge and courtroom were all staring. “Con-Tra-Dic-Tion!” Every single syllable was over and carefully enunciated.

Miles little grey head stood on the other side of the bench. Finger pointed.

The court erupted into noise.

Did he just- Oh that’s so cute! – why’s there a toddler – did you hear him?!

He rounded the bench and scooped him up. “What did you say?!”

Miles jumped. Looked away. Startled. Head bowed like he’d done something wrong.

“No- no no no. Miles what did you say? Can you say it again? Any of it. Say anything again.” Nuzzled into his hair. “I love you so much please say something.” I want to hear your voice so bad.

(Am I pushing too hard? Am I scaring him? Too much. You’re making this too big a deal. You said it was okay if he never spoke.)

It would have been. He loved his little boy. No matter what.

But he couldn’t help but want to hear that voice.

Miles buried his face in his shoulder as he squeezed him to his chest.

“… Father…” Came the embarrassed little squeak.

Oh I love you I love you I love you.

The prosecutor cleared his throat. “Gentleman… I believe we were in the middle of a cross examination?”

He rounded on the witness. Pointed with his free hand. “Yes! We were! And as my favorite legal assistant has just pointed out,” Miles giggled. Oh he loved that sound. “Your testimony directly contradicts the evidence.”

“Thank you.” The defendant’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “You truly saved me.”

Miles studied him from behind his legs. Eyes catching on the brilliant fabric of the magicians cape. He pressed his hat to his chest. “I was just doing my job.” Bowed.

“Yes!” Magi laughed. The light caught on the glitter on his cheeks. “Take a bow!" Ah. That was… “You’ve put on a magnificent show.” Removed from his sleeve an entire bouquet of flowers. Handed it to him. “Truly. Thank you.”

He accepted it. They were beautiful.

He knelt. “And for the legal assistant and his indispensable aid,” Pulled one more beautiful flower out and presented it to him. “Here.”

Miles reached out. Took it. Inhaled.

Sneezed.

Sneezed again.

Magi covered his laugh as Miles sneezed once more. “Oh dear.” Pulled out a colorful handkerchief for him. “My apologies.” Took the flower back and made it disappear as Miles blew his nose. “I didn’t realize you were allergic.”

Allergic.

He dropped to the floor. Pulled Miles to his chest.

“Oh Miles. That’s why you didn’t like Flora. She always had flowers on her.”

And he was just allergic enough to be irritated.

What a fool he was.

“… Father.” Miles was tapping him. He forced open his eyes to Miles signing at him. “Why are you laughing?”

He received an invite to Flora’s wedding not a month before. They seemed very happy together.

That could have been us. If only I’d know about your allergies.

Father? He repeated.

“Because I’ve been very silly. And caused you unnecessary pain.”

(I’m not a very good Father at all am I? I keep messing up.)

“… Oh. You want another handkerchief?” Magi asked. “Here you go.”

Cloth touched his face. He opened his eyes to Miles very seriously wiping the tears from his face. Just like he would for Miles. He let him finish his very serious work.

Miles dropped his hands. Considered him from where he stood in the nest of his knees.

Raised his right hand and signed, “I love you.”

Oh Miles.

“I love you too.”

#gregory edgeworth #gregory edgeworth week #flower prompt #miles edgeworth #miles canon pollen allergy

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rjhpandapaws · 4 years ago

Note

Since it's a birthday event can I ask for a AHM birthday prompt 👉👈💖

//of course <3

Gavin was bad about birthdays. If he didn’t outright forget them he was getting something last minute. Richard’s it seemed would be no different. It was August 21st and Gavin found himself running all over creation trying to find something that Richard would like that he didn’t already have. He knew on some level that it wasn’t about what you got them but the time you spent with them, but he had spent time in a wealthy family so objects tended to matter more when he got to thinking about it. It was an easier way to show how much he cared than words. He knew just spending time with Richard would be enough, it always was, but this was his birthday and Gavin wanted it to be something special. Richard already had so many things from him, he’d do a song but there wasn’t enough time so he wouldn’t be able to do as well as he would have liked. Which is why he found himself on the verge of a breakdown in an arts and crafts store. Getting him art supplies felt a little too much like taking the easy way out but he didn’t know what else to do. He looked through the stores supply of markers he had seen Richard use, he knew he needed another kit of them but he couldn’t remember which one it was. Gavin sighed and began picking out the kits that had colors he had seen Richard use in his drawings. He picked out a fine lining kit as well as a smaller sketchbook that Richard could take with him instead of having to pack his full sized one around. He hoped this didn’t seem to cliché and that Richard would like it. This still felt like cheating. He grabbed a gift bag as well as some tissue paper on his way to the checkout counter. When he got home he realized he hadn’t gotten a card so he tried his hand at making one. Which amounted to him basically writing a letter and then folding it in half then tucking it in the bag. He and Richard had plans for tomorrow and he would spend the weekend with his brothers.

Morning found him just as uncomfortable as the evening had left him. It was too late to do anything about it now, and he knew on some level that Richard would like it. There was just the matter of letting himself believe it. Gifts didn’t always have to be elaborate. He had hoped that distancing himself from his family would help distance him from this, but it didn’t seem that would be the case because the guilt was still hanging over him. He knew Richard liked thing to be simple, that should have been a comfort. He got ready for the day, it was early but he knew he wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep any time soon. He figured he could play on his guitar for a bit and try and clear his head. He was pretty sure he would feel better after, maybe he could even bring the guitar over and play music. If he felt better of course. He went into the spare room after he got dressed and got some coffee in his system. He had kind of made this room into a low budget recording room and kept all his instruments in here. His guitar, a ukulele, a standing keyboard, as well as a cello from his younger days. He didn’t play it much anymore. He sat on the stool and grabbed the acoustic guitar from the stand beside it and got started. It was a simple song with a very simple note pattern but it was relaxing and he found himself singing along as he played it. He hadn’t learned all the words yet so it was sporadic when he sang and he would hum the rest. He went at if for about an hour before he decided to call it and finished getting ready. He put his guitar in its case and strapped it to his back. He grabbed the gift bag and shot Richard a text as he made his way down to the parking lot.

Gavin: On my way. Gavin: Happy Birthday dumbass Tall Phcker from Psych: Thank you, and I’ll see you soon.

Gavin smiled down at his phone as he put it away and strapped the gift bag down as best he could without damaging it too much and keeping gifts safe. He got the bike and headed for Richard’s apartment. Guilt still lingered in the back of his mind that his gifts wouldn’t be good enough. Maybe the amount of thing he had gotten would make up for it. The ride was pretty short now that he knew a few short cuts. He found a place to park and made his way toward the elevators. Normally he would have taken the stairs but he didn’t want to shake the bag up anymore than the ride over had he didn’t know how fragile the were. He knew hiding the bag behind his back wasn’t going to do a whole lot for him but he still tucked it behind his back before he knocked on the door. Richard answered the door soon after and glanced at the bag before he looked back at Gavin. ‘Really?’ He signed with a half smile as he stepped out of the way as Gavin stepped into the apartment. “Hey, I was only trying to be nice, it is your birthday after all.” Gavin said with a laugh. ‘Right.’ Richard signed with a laugh of his own, though the sarcastic smirk took away from it some. “Wow. Okay, rude.” Gavin scoffed in mock offense, “I see how it is.”

Their smiles mirrored one another as Gavin handed the bag over, “I hope this is okay, I wanted to do something nice for your birthday without making a huge thing of it, so I thought maybe I could get you something and we could get takeout.” ‘Thank you.’ He signed and headed for the couch with the bag and Gavin followed. Gavin Had honestly forgot about the card until Richard pulled it out and he winced a little. He had been pretty anxious when he had written it so he had spilled his guts some. He was half tempted to take it but Richard was already reading it so the moment had come and passed. All he could do was wait and hope he didn’t find it too strange. He finished the letter and turned toward Gavin without looking in the bag and Gavin felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. ‘You Not Have Buy Anything. I Happy With Just You Here.’ He signed making sure Gavin was looking at him, ‘You Enough.’ Gavin wanted to argue, but there was something in Richard’s eyes that took the words from him. He manage a smile and leaned into Richard’s side so he wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, just open the bag you dumbass.” He didn’t need to look to know that Richard had rolled his eyes, he always did when Gavin got like this. It wasn’t personal and he knew it. As it turned out he hadn’t needed to worry about Richard not liking what he got. He hugged Gavin tightly enough afterward that he had been pretty sure his ribs were going to crack. Maybe it was the thought that counted after all.

@marndraws

(Prompt from this list)

#AHM short #AHM #Birthday Ask Event!#Reed900 #d:bh gavin #dbh nines #dbh fic #dbh #ask event #ask panda #panda has all the answers!

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