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4wkjun · 2 months

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daddy sim | sjy

Chapter 6: Oh, my God. ➥ Contains: mentions of miscarriages, crying, swearing. ➥ A little warning: First, SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING! Secondly, just reminding everyone that the characters here are not their real age. So, just so everything makes sense here: Chaewon, Sakura, and Yunjin are ‘97 liners (being 25 in this timeline), Kazuha is a ‘98 liner (along with y/n) and Eunchae is a ‘01 liner (being 21 here so she can work with y/n). ➥ Word count: 2.5k

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July 18th, 2022 Monday

“I’m gonna close my cash register”, Eunchae announced as she started finishing her monitor’s system. You were refilling the cups under the counter for tomorrow’s shift and only hummed in response.

You only had around forty minutes before closing the coffee shop, no one but you and Eunchae were around the place. The day was pretty chill, the biggest rush of the shift being a group of teenagers who ordered eight lattes, so you weren’t tired. You didn’t say a word about being nauseous, though.

As time passed by, you started getting used to the whole pregnancy idea. You didn’t tell many people about being pregnant — actually, you only told your mom, Jake, and the girls, since the doctor told you to keep down as much as you could —, but people started to wonder why you were so cranky and nauseous all of the time.

You just turned somewhere around nine weeks pregnant, according to the previous exams you performed at a new clinic, this one being closer to your place. Maybe because you were a little psychosomatic or maybe because your body started to work harder to grow a life, you started experiencing other symptoms, like extreme tiredness, morning sickness (that was just sickness all day long if you didn’t take some sort of medicine), sore breasts, and tiny cramps. These cramps scared the hell out of you since you thought your body was rejecting the baby.

Your phone rang with a notification. It was your app telling you that your baby was now the size of a strawberry. You smiled at it.

“Is it your lover?”, Eunchae asked, seeing your silly face. You scoffed.

“Yeah”, you lied.

Even though everything was so new, you were internally dying to tell everyone about the pregnancy. You knew that the risks of miscarriages were higher during the first trimester and avoided that thought at every cost, so you just kept it to yourself. You wouldn’t be able to handle the pity faces around you if you ended up losing that baby.

“Hey, Eunchae”, you called, closing the cabinet underneath the counter, now full of paper cups. “Could you cover my shift for me tomorrow?”, you asked.

“Yeah, sure. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I just have an appointment. Just a regular appointment”, you explained more than you needed. Eunchae chuckled.

“Glad to know you’re healthy.”

You laughed, stretching your back.

“Thanks, Chae”, you smiled. You walked towards her and gave her a back hug. “You’re the best.”

July 19th, 2022 Tuesday

“I know”, she laughed.

“I’m sorry, it’ll be a little uncomfortable”, dr. Park announced before inserting the transducer. It wasn’t as bad as the first time but still was not enjoyable now at your third time.

Jake stood right behind your head, his both hands crossed right under your chin, caressing your skin softly. He was happy, excited to see your little one on that crapy gray screen.

“Alright, everything seems fine. Here is your baby, ms. Choi”, the doctor pointed towards the screen.

Jake jolted in place and took a couple of steps forward, now next to your head. His eyes were shining towards the screen, looking at the tiny spot the doctor showed.

“I know this procedure is pretty unpleasant, but it is great to announce that everything seems fine. As long as I can see, there is a single gestational sac and a single embryo, so... No twins for now”, she chuckled. You and Jake sighed, a little relieved before laughing together.

“So... The baby’s fine?”, you asked, smiling.

“So far, so good.”

“What do you think about taking a shower while I cook dinner?”, Jake asked as you walked inside of your apartment.

“Good”, Jake reassured before holding both of your hands and kissing them. Good.

“Depends”, you responded with a playful smile. “Are you gonna burn it again?”

“Hey!”, he scolded also in a playful tone. “Can’t a man make the same mistake like... Twelve times?”

You laughed, placing your shoes inside of the cabinet. Jake did the same as you sat down on the couch, looking down with a pout.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, rolling his sleeves up.

“I’m bloated”, you moaned, opening the button of your jeans. You sighed in relief as your tummy felt free.

“Baby, you’re pregnant”, he laughed, entering the kitchen.

“But I don’t look pregnant”, you pointed at him with an eyebrow raised. He chuckled, nodding.

“When do you think I should tell my parents?”, Jake asked in a soft tone, afraid the subject would make you uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, babe”, you answered. You watched his back as he walked around your tiny kitchen grabbing utensils to cook. “Whenever you feel ready?”

“Maybe we should wait until the first trimester is over?”, Jake asked, reaching for the rice pan. “‘Cause... You know...”

“I know”, you nodded, even though he wouldn’t see. “But it’s fine if you feel like telling them right now, love. I told my mom right away.”

“For different reasons, though”, he said, turning away to look at you. His hands were busily washing the rice as he spoke. “You knew she’d be pissed, you were trying to rip the band-aid off as soon as possible. I want to tell my parents ‘cause I think they’ll be happy.”

Jake turned his back to you again, washing the rice for the second time. You seemed surprised.

“You think they’ll be happy?”

“I’m almost 100% sure”, he shrugged.

“Aren’t they like... Super religious?” Jake made a funny sound, almost like a “meh” and you laughed. “Isn’t this a child conceived in sin?”

“I mean”, Jake laughed. “They believe in God, go to church every Sunday and shit... But they got married ‘cause my mom got pregnant.”

“Oh”, you said, genuinely surprised. You laughed a little relieved, shaking your head. “That’s... Good to know, I think.”

Jake laughed in response.

“They’re not judgmental, I promise”, he continued. “I’m pretty sure they’ll ask if they can come and visit once the baby’s here.”

“You think they’ll fly all the way from Australia?”, you asked, shocked.

“Absolutely”, Jake responded.

You nodded again, caressing your belly. At the same time it hurt you that your mom would probably stay in Tokyo no matter what, it felt nice knowing you’d have some sort of support. You grew up by yourself, your father passed away when you were five, you didn’t have any relatives near — your grandparents lived in the countryside, while you grew up in Seoul —, any siblings, anyone to play with during the holidays. Even if that support didn’t come from your part of the family, it made your heart heal a bit.

“I’m a little scared”, you told Jake after a long yawn.

“Of what, baby?”, he asked in a caring tone, chopping vegetables next to the sink.

“The thought of your parents hating me”, you said in a funny tone to disguise your fear. Jake stared at you, his face almost blank.

“That is so not possible”, he said, seriously. “Now, stop thinking about that sort of crap and go take a shower”, he pointed towards the hallway with the knife.

“You’re so toxic”, you mumbled in a fake grumpy tone. Jake laughed.

While you took your shower, Jake finished cooking his bibimbap and set the table for the two of you. This has been his routine lately. He’d pick you up at work, cook you the lightest and healthiest dinner he could — thinking about the baby’s health and cuddle with you for the rest of the night. Honestly, he was pretty happy about it.

Jake never thought his life would have such a turnaround in such a small amount of time. In a matter of months, he went from being your friend-zoned roommate to your boyfriend and then your baby daddy. At the same time his heart was filled with love and a huge amount of happiness towards becoming a father, he felt a little scared of how things would work out with you. What if you woke up in a while and realized you didn’t want to be in a relationship with him anymore, let alone be the mother of his child? With a sigh, Jake shook his head, letting go of these thoughts.

He sat on the couch and turned the TV on, waiting for you to turn the shower off. His fingers were fast while reaching for his phone and typing “baby names”, trying to get his mind a little moment of ease.

He scrolled for about five minutes, taking notes of the names he liked. He was going to ask you to do the same later, so you could start thinking about the funny part of having a baby. Jake couldn’t wait to start thinking about the nursery and baby’s clothes. What if you guys threw a baby shower? That would be so cute!

Jake got off the couch as he heard the bathroom door being opened. He walked towards your bedroom, following you like a puppy.

You were sitting in front of your dressing table wearing nothing but your towel around your body, your hair damp and falling down your back as you tried to detangle it. Jake smiled and took the brush out of your hands, carefully brushing your hair for you. You only smiled, closing your eyes. You felt loved.

“Let me know if it hurts”, Jake mumbled softly. You hummed, your eyes still closed.

“You never hurt me, silly”, you responded with a soft smile. Jake chuckled, shaking his head as his slim hands carefully detangled your locks.

“You know...”, he started. “I was thinking about the fun part of being a parent...”

“The fun part?”, you asked funnily.

“Yeah, thinking about the nursery, picking out names... That sort of stuff”, he shrugged as he placed the brush down on your dressing table. You turned around in your chair, watching as Jake sat down on your bed and held his hands.

“Can you stop being cute?”, you asked with a pout. Jake chuckled, his ears getting red as he got shy. “I’m so excited about the nursery and the layette”, you sighed. “But deep down I’m still afraid I might have a miscarriage any time.”

“Don’t do this”, Jake warned and squeezed your hands. “I know you’re scared and everything is happening ridiculously fast, but we can’t let our fears run our lives, ok?”

You pouted, feeling hot tears filling your eyes. You weren’t crying because of fear or because Jake “scolded” you, but because you never felt like that before.

“Don’t cry, love”, he pouted, caressing your cheek. “You’ll see, everything’s gonna be just fine.”

“I know”, you whined with a nod before throwing your body towards his. Jake hugged you tight for a long time before the two of you actually went to have dinner.

July 20th, 2022 Wednesday

“Hi, mama”, Jake greeted over the phone. You were asleep and Jake took the opportunity to call his mom before going to bed with you. He sneaked out onto the balcony and called her.

“Hi, Jaeyunnie”, she greeted excitedly. “Is everything ok, baby?”

“Yeah, I just needed to tell you something”, he responded, nervous. “You remember I told you y/n are together, right?”

“Of course I do”, she responded right away. “Why? Did you break up?”

“No!”, Jake exasperated, laughing. “Jesus, woman!”

Jake’s mom laughed along, their laughs almost identical.

“We... We are actually pretty good, which is why I called you.”

“You’re getting married?!”

“No, mama, listen”, Jake chuckled after sighing. His mom laughed again. “We... Are kinda expecting a baby.”

His mom didn’t say anything for about 10 seconds. “Kinda?”

“I mean...”, Jake shrugged. His mom chuckled.

“Are you happy, Yunnie?”

“I am”, he responded genuinely. “She’s really scared... I’m also scared but I’m trying to keep my cool and...”, he sighed.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy”, she said. “I love you and I’ll love my grandchild just as much, but I need to know if you two are really happy about it.”

“We are, mama.”

“Alright, Yunnie”, she sighed. “I’m gonna talk to your dad tomorrow and we’ll call you back, ok?”

“Ok”, he smiled softly. “Love you, mama.”

“I love you too.”

“Hey mate”, Jake greeted Jay as he opened your shared apartment door. “Come on in, you’re late.”

August 6th, 2022

Saturday

Jay rolled his eyes as he entered your tiny and filled apartment. You and Jake invited your friends over to announce your pregnancy to them. Chaewon, Sakura, and Yunjin were sitting on your couch while Heeseung and Sunghoon were sitting on the floor. You were cooking a lasagna for them, initially telling them it was supposed to celebrate the end of the first semester of the year.

“Hi, y/n”, Jay greeted over your counter before plopping himself down the floor with the boys. You smiled and waved at him while Jake came back to help you with the dish.

Thirty minutes later, the lasagna was in the oven and you were sitting with your friends while you played Jenga, waiting for it to fully cook. Sunghoon lost in less than ten minutes and you enjoyed the chaos to sneak yourself to the bathroom, feeling a little nauseous. You thought you would throw up because Jay and Heeseung wore way too much cologne, but you didn’t. Jake seemed worried when you came back for the next game. All of you took turns to play mime until the food got ready.

You realized how badly you were missing the chaotic atmosphere your friends had as you had lunch with them, laughing all of the time. Jake also seemed happy, almost crying with laughter every time Heeseung said something silly. After everyone was full, you just stayed at the table, having small talk and Jake squeezed your thigh carefully, almost asking for permission. You nodded and cleared your throat.

“I need to tell you something”, you said with a sigh. “The girls already know, so you don’t have to pretend to be surprised”, you chuckled. Chaewon rolled her eyes, pouting. “The reason why Jake and I reunited all of your animals together is to tell you that... I am pregnant.”

Heeseung laughed, thinking it was a joke, Sunghoon had absolutely no response and Jay seemed ridiculously confused, with both his eyebrows frowned. When Heeseung read the room, he stopped laughing and tried to cover it with a cough, making you laugh.

“You’re serious?”, Jay asked.

“Dead serious. Almost 12 weeks”, you responded, holding Jake’s hand beneath the table.

“Oh, my God, come here”, Jay whined, getting up. He walked towards you and gave you a bear hug, feeling happy for you. Jake laughed at his reaction, only to laugh harder after Heeseung and Sunghoon got up to hug you as well, following the leader.

“How did that happen?”, Sunghoon asked after congratulating you.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, I don’t want any details”, Yunjin mumbled and you laughed.

By the end of the evening, you were on the couch surrounded by your friends, Chaewon hugging your torso and caressing your belly as if it were her child. The baby became the main subject, and everyone suddenly got excited about throwing you a baby shower.

You were happy.

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@missychief1404, @riksaes, @simhinata

#enhypen au #jake au #jake sim x reader #jake fanfic #enhypen fanfic #jake smau #enhypen fanfiction #jake fluff

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Can you maybe do reader getting her ears pierced and Xavier being there for support. (I just had mine done and yes maybe I'm to big to being crying over it but it hurts😭)

A/n: let me tell ya, I was scare shitless getting mine done too. Funny story though I had my ears pierced the same week I had to go swimming with my primary school.(which was every Tuesday afternoon)Needless to say I couldn’t go swimming for while until my piercings had healed and settled.

Also yes I’m making Ajax have snakebites also this was kinda meh and rushed.

“You’ll be fine y/n, after all it’s just a little pinprick.”

“Just a little pinprick? Xavier, my earlobes are going to be stabbed by a needle! No numbing cream, no nothing, just straight up raw earlobe stabbing.” You told Xavier as you sat nervously in the chair whilst the woman who’d be piercing your ears was collecting the necessary materials for the procedure; You’ve wanted your ears pierced for awhile now but after reading up on scenarios where something went wrong as you were in the midst of preparing yourself for your up coming appointment; your desire for getting your ears done quickly turned sour in your mouth.

Xavier sees that you were genuinely second guessing your decision and reaches out to hold your hand tightly within his. “It’s going to be okay baby, Your in safe and professional hands, they know what they’re doing and besides,” he leant towards you as though he’s sharing a secret, just between the two of you, “i think your very brave for getting them done.” He says as he leans back against the chair humbly provided for him. “Really?” You asked, still a little unsure of yourself. “Oh yeah! I don’t think I could get my ears pierced or, god forbid, get tattoos.”

You giggled at his over exaggerate attempts of cheering you up because it was defiantly working to some extent. You were grateful that Xavier decided to tag along because if he hadn’t, you would’ve for certain bolted out of the room and straight back to Nevermore with your tail between your legs. Having Xavier with you, sacrificing his hand as your temporary stress toy whenever you got short glimpses of the needle that would be prodding holes into your ear lobes.

You honestly didn’t know how you got through life at this point without Xavier being there to calm your overreactive mind and sooth your worries with his logic and reassurance; Yet sometimes you can’t feel as though you let him down for being the way that you were, even after he tells you otherwise. You still get that feeling within your chest that one day he’d grow annoyed of having to console you about everything and tell you to grow and deal with it like everybody else; However you knew this to not be true as it wasn’t in his character but that didn’t mean you feared for the nearby future when you wouldn’t have Xavier by your side. As for now you chose to appreciate and love him whist you still had him in your life, by your side to do so.

After your laughter subsided you gripped Xavier’s hand, smiling softly at him. “Thank you for coming here with me Xav, I honestly don’t think I would’ve made it past that doorway if it weren’t for you.” The long haired boy only huffed playfully as he leaned into once again, though this time it was to press a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t sell yourself short, sweet cakes for your a lot stronger then you believe yourself to be.” He utters into your hairline before pulling away. “I mean you haven’t bolted out of that door yet. So that’s an good thing!”

Just as he says that, the woman doing your piercings came back to the room with a selection of jewelled ear accessories ranging from small studs to ear stretchers alongside the needle and some materials to sterilise it so that you wouldn’t get infections or any other complications. The nervousness came back with a vengeance as the worst case scenarios came flooding back to the forefront of your mind as your breathing bang to pick up erratically; your grip on Xavier’s hand only increased in grip as your chair was pulled out flat as a board and you were instructed to lay down and to get yourself comfortable but with your body being bombarded with internalised panic, your movements became rigid and stiff that it too you longer then it probably should’ve to lay yourself down.

“First time?” The kind woman asked, flashing you a smile as they began to set up. “Yeah. Is it that obvious?” You responded, still a little rigid with fright. “Your not the first person who’s came in here for an piercing. I remember there was a Gorgon kid who came in here the other week asking for snakebites.” You and Xavier shared a look of mutual confusion. “The Gorgon’s name wouldn’t happen to be Ajax Petropolus by any chance?” Xavier asked as he gave your hand another reassuring squeeze. The woman looked over at him with raised brows, “yeah, how did you know him?”

Xavier shrugs, “he’s a friend of mine. After he got his snakebites he had nothing but high praise for your professionalism, which is why we’re here today.” The woman only smiled at the compliment, “that’s how I keep my business running,” she say before turning back to you. “You ready champ?” You breathed a heavy sigh before looking over at Xavier who only smiled at you encouragingly, lifting up your intertwined hands to show that he was still here for moral support. You looked back at the her as she patiently awaited your answer that you replied with confidently, “I’m ready.”

#xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier imagines #xavier imagine #xavier fic #xavier fanfic #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe imagines #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader

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bonitanightmxres · 8 months

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Haunted (Part II) || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

MINI SERIES SYNOPSIS: It was hard trying to move past Simon's death, but it’s even harder when the third anniversary is looming and the nightmares are back.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: A rough night and late start to your morning, nearly makes you late for an important appointment... lucky for you, a close friend steps in.

WARNINGS: angst, language

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

With a racing heart and sweaty skin, your body jerks awake like it had just been brought back to life. A pounding headache settles itself around your head, making it impossible to pinpoint exactly where the pain is coming from. Your eyes are wide open, trying to process the morning glow of the sun through the window, but it only adds to the throbbing sensation in your head, and your vision is fuzzy. When you use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes, it’s then that you realize you’d been crying in your sleep, the tears responsible for your morning blindness. Those damn nightmares. They’d come back to wrap its noose around your neck a final time and kill you at last. You were no stranger to them, but considering that it’d been over a year since the last one, it was pretty fucking irritating to have to deal with them again. The four-legged and furry beast in your bed perked his head up, recognizing your sudden distress. He moves his body closer to yours, laying his head down on a pillow by your side and offering his support; he’s done this before. Thank God for dogs.

“It’s okay, Riley,” you say reassuringly and give him a pet on the head. The German Shepherd closes his eyes in comfort. “It was just a nightmare.”

The buzzing of your phone captures your attention and you debate ignoring it; but by now you’re far too awake and the sun is too bright to even consider falling back asleep; besides, going back to sleep while images from the nightmares were burned into your eyelids would have just been self-torture.

MACTAVISH: You better be awake, I’ll be there in 30.

You sit up quickly, trying to gather your thoughts and get your days together.

Shit. It was Tuesday. Anxiety settles within your body, making you suddenly feel nauseous. Great.

While you hurry through your routine, it’s quiet, except for the light snores that come from Riley’s nose as he stretches across the bed. Must be nice, you thought, to be a dog and free of troubles. By now you were used to the lack of sound, the way that your own voice bounced off the walls and carried a small echo; but the little noises that came from Riley were the only indication that you weren’t alone. Thirty minutes goes by fast, and you’re skipping half your makeup process and squeezing into your jeans and sliding into your shoes. A heavy pounding on your front door nearly sends you tripping over your feet, scaring you as Riley jumps off the bed and hurries down to see the noise. He growls as he approaches the door, but waits patiently for you to open the door so he can assess the threat. As you look out the peephole and see a certain man with a mohawk, you roll your eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you curse as you open the door and let him in.

“Next time, maybe you could, y’know, refrain from beating down my door like you’re a damn cop.”

Riley, who immediately recognized Soap, wagged his tail excitedly and approached the man, who dropped to the floor and played with him. Soap chuckled, “Well if you would remember to wake up on time, I wouldn’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes. With a fast-beating heart rate, you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Do you want a coffee? Or tea or something?” You offer, walking toward the kitchen. Soap raises an eyebrow. “Is it made already?”

“Well… no, but–”

He shakes his head quickly, “No thank you then, we don’t have time.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll just take a second.” You start to pour water into the machine, and get mugs out of your pantry, until you see the unimpressed look on his face.

“I know what you’re stalling, and it won’t work this time,” Soap grabs your purse off the hook and slings it over his shoulder before opening the door for you. “It’s time to go. We’re going to be late.” Sighing, you drag your feet along the ground and trudge over to Soap. He locks the door behind you, and you climb into his truck without another word.

Even as you’re midway through the car ride, he still hasn’t bothered to turn on the radio, or make conversation. He’s focused on the road, surprisingly, and his jaw is clenched. Quiet Soap was… nerve wracking to say the least.

He groans, muttering curses when you’re stuck behind a long line of cars on the freeway and notices the time. “Fuck. I knew we should’ve left earlier.”

When he glances at you, you could practically feel him blame you. It doesn’t leave a pleasant feeling in your stomach, either. That, combined with your morning anxiety is enough to make you want to cry. Instead, you offer a meek apology, “Sorry…” Soap glances at you again, but this time his gaze softens. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve picked you up earlier.”

“Yeah, but if I would have just listened to Price when he said to go to the auto shop, my car wouldn’t be sitting in my garage with a dead battery and God knows what else is wrong with it.”

With a chuckle, Soap nods his head, agreeing with you. You’d always had a problem with listening to people, much less to those who obviously knew what they were talking about—like Price with the car, and Simon with the lightbulb all those years ago—and it always seemed to bite you back in the ass. By now you should’ve learned your lesson, but Soap figured that it would be a long time before you learned anything.

Traffic moves slowly as cars sit bumper to bumper, and Soap is visibly annoyed with it. You, however, are not complaining. Maybe if traffic takes long enough, your appointment will get canceled and there would be nothing to do about it except to reschedule; then when the new date comes around, maybe you’d “accidentally” sleep in or forget about it altogether. That was wishful thinking, though. If Soap could help it, he’d drag you there himself, the way that he was practically doing now.

“So,” you cringe at your pathetic attempt to break the silence in the air and try to ease Soap’s mood. “You still seeing the vet from the animal shelter?” He shakes his head and sighs, “Nah. We were on-and-off again too much. She hated how much time I spent away, and worried all the time. The split was mutual though, we’re on good terms.” “Oh,” your heart sinks. “I’m sorry. She was nice.”

“It is what it is, y’know?” He shrugs, shaking it off. Soap could brush it off as much as he’d like, but you could see it in his eyes that this one hurt. “Men like us don’t get the happy ending.”

With a sympathetic smile, you let out a small sigh.

Men like us don’t get the happy ending.

You thought about the vet he’d dated casually throughout the years and wondered if this had been the longest time he’d been connected to someone–despite the on-and-off circumstances. Was she heartbroken? Did she miss him as much as he seemed to miss her? Maybe Soap had been her first relationship in a long time. Maybe it hurt her to let him go, but knew it was better for her own well-being. The more you thought about her, the more you realized that the women don’t get a happy ending either.

Soap parked the car of the business center downtown, where all the shiny buildings sat together in a cluster and the people who walked the streets had outfits that looked like they were worth more than your whole life. “Well, we made it in time,” he says, turning off the engine. “We should head in now.”

The everlasting anxiety still simmered in your blood as you clutched your knee nervously. “I don’t…”

He sighed, grabbing your clammy hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you don’t feel good, and I know you don’t want to, but you have to, okay?”

“I just… I don’t think she likes me, can’t we just find a different one?”

“A different therapist who’s as good as this one?” He raised a brow, and immediately shook his head when he saw your mouth open to answer what was so obviously a rhetorical question. “No, sorry darling. I don’t take recommendations lightly, especially if it concerns you,” he nudges you out of the car, and you do as told. Your legs shake beneath you and the world spins, and as much as you’ll never admit it, you know that Soap is right. “Besides, Gaz says this one works wonders. It's only the third appointment, so you just gotta give it time to work.”

As you take a deep breath and shut the car door, your neck strains as you stare up at the daunting building ahead. It’s tall, giving skyscrapers a run for their money and full of shining windows that reflect the sun brightly.

You already know your way to the elevator, practically able to get there with your eyes closed, and press the button to the floor number that will get you to your therapist.

“Ready?” Soap asks as the door slides shut. He notices the little tremble in your body as the elevator dings with each passing floor. What was there to worry about? You thought, trying to rid the uneasiness in your bones. It’s only the third appointment, When the elevator lit up and opened its doors on your floor, you looked at Soap for a little encouragement. You returned the small smile he gave, taking a deep breath before letting it out, “Ready.”

—

Dr. Fernández scribbles down notes in your file, and watches from the corner of her eye as you absentmindedly bounce your leg. The click of the giant grandfather clock ticks loudly in your ears, despite the fact that it sits on the opposite side of the room. Every now and again she glances back up at you with the same blank face that irritated the fuck out of you. At least if she gave you a look of disgust, you’d know where you stood with her. But the truth is, you’re too tired to care today, not after being unable to sleep.

You’re lost in a crowd of people, alone, frantically searching for him as they busily bump your shoulders, pushing past you. You yell his name, crying out for help, but no matter how loudly you scream, no sound comes out. Running doesn’t help, your feet only move in slow motion, practically keeping you in place. Your eyes catch sight of a tall man dressed in black gear, and you reach out, grabbing his arm. Finally, your heart beat slows to a normal pace, recognizing the familiar patches on the sides of his vest. When he turns, you feel safe, and desperate for a hug. But the mask on his face is bloody and torn. He approaches you closer and closer, until he towers over your frame and you can see his eyes rolled to the back of his head, lifeless and a sickly shade of gray. When he reaches to take his mask off, you take steps back.

No… no, no, no…

You can’t seem to move fast enough, pushing your way through the crowd and away from him. Right when you think you lost him, you run right into him again like suddenly he’s teleported right in front of you.

Suddenly, everyone around you is identical to him—tall, menacing clones whose intimidating size could crush you in an instant. They all surround you, reaching for their mask, and the blood drips like a faucet from their faces onto their clothes, and pools at your feet. You swear you can see real bone and tattered flesh as they begin to slide the mask off their skin, but you’re not sure and you really don’t want to find out. Squeezing your eyes closed before you can even see a glimpse of the final, grisly image, you fall to your knees, crying and hopeless as the circle of clones closes in on you. Your dream-self is aware of the chaotic nightmare going and you can feel the tears coat your cheeks in real-time. Part of you actually feels like you can feel his arm snake around your waist, the way he did when you had a bad dream.

That’s what made you jerk awake. His embrace had felt so real, you’d forgotten for a moment that he hadn’t really been there in bed with you…

Sitting across from your therapist for the third time this month, you wait for a response from her. You look down, averting her gaze, tapping your feet together. This, of course, was one of the things you hated about her. She’d practically forced you to cough up what had been eating away at you for the last month, and yet here she sat — cold and silent. She catches your attention by handing you a box of tissues. Tears had dripped down your face and onto your clothes. It would have been embarrassing, but you were way past that point now.

“They didn’t even let me see him.” You say, remembering that heart-wrenching day they’d flown his body overseas. He was already in a casket, and you’d wanted so badly to see him one last time. You still remember the shatter of your heart when they said you couldn’t. “It would traumatize me, they said. But what good did that do?”

Dr. Fernández was quiet as you spoke, occasionally nodding, letting you know that she was listening. Sometimes that’s all she did–let you talk. But having to relive the most horrific experience in your life just so some expert with a degree could tell you to move on like you already hadn’t worked on that just seemed like a sick game.

“I cruelly kept thinking about what had happened to him since I couldn’t say goodbye… I kept wondering if… if he even still had a face…” You explain. It was a gruesome thought, you knew that. Completely sickening. But what other reason did the military have for keeping you from opening that box up? “That was when the nightmares started, I think. I punished myself and now I’m paying for it.”

She crosses her arms, leaning back into her chair, “What do you mean by that? You’re not the one who killed him.”

“N-no, but I might as well have…” It angers you just thinking about it, all the things that should have gone your way. “He was supposed to be done with the military, you know? He had a small mission before he left me for good… he said he’d quit if that’s what I wanted, but I knew better. He got anxious when he was home, and nothing made him feel more useful and proud than when he was fighting with his team…and I didn’t want him to change who he was for me…”

“But?”

“But I should’ve made him quit… I should’ve made sure he knew he was so much more than just a soldier… that he was useful without that stupid fucking mask…”

“You sound angry.” Dr. Fernández notices the way your face scrunches up with rage, the fury fighting behind your eyes like those are the only two things keeping it from spilling out and engulfing the entire world.

“I am angry!” You shout, becoming embarrassed because that hadn't been your intention. “He–”

I promise I won’t leave you alone for long.

“He what?” She asks.

“Nothing…” You sigh exasperatedly. It was no use telling her of the empty promise Simon had left you with. What good would that do? She'd probably just tell you to forgive and move on, just like the old therapist. “ It’s just… it’s been almost three years, and I’m used to being alone, to the quiet. I’ve learned how to deal with it. I don’t sit around crying for him all day, I get up and I go out, I have fun, and I do what I need to do…”

“And?”

You shrug your shoulders, shaking your head, feeling so stupid as the words begin to pour out of you, “And it is what it is, you know? I-I mean, sometimes I just miss him. I miss him in the park where we used to have lunch. I miss him in the grocery stores where he’d get everything off the top shelf for me because that’s where everything was left untouched. Sometimes I miss him so much my stomach hurts, and I cry until I can’t breathe.”

“You haven’t said his name,” she observes. “In all three sessions we’ve had, I haven’t heard Simon leave your mouth not once. It’s always he this, and he that.”

Sitting in silence, you can’t even come up with an excuse for that. It wasn't like you were doing it on purpose. Sometimes it just happened like that, being at a loss for words. You couldn't even remember the last time you talked about him... and the thought made your heart drop to your stomach.

“Look, therapy can't help if you don't work with me here,” her change of tone catches your attention. It's softer, somehow, like she's trying to level with you. "There's a lot of people who care about you and they're just concerned with how the nightmares have affected you over the last few weeks." Wait a minute...

"How did you know how long I've been having them?" There was only one person you’d told about the nightmares since they started again, and you still hadn't even been honest with Dr. Fernández about it. “I swear to God, if MacTavish–”

Dr. Fernández lets out a dry chuckle and shakes her head. “Despite what you may think, Lieutenant MacTavish has nothing to do with why you’re here, and he’s not the one who told me of your violent nightmares.”

Huh?

“It was Captain Price.”

a/n: YES johnny's a lieutenant now. don’t ask why, or how. time went by, so he climbed the rank lol. also thanks for reading, reblogs are appreciated :))

NEXT PART

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@ilovehyperfixating

@ghostlythots

@titaniasfairy

#simon ghost riley #simonghostriley #simon riley fanfic #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

an interesting night at the hair salon

words: 2,357 ship: austin butler x reader summary: @19mrb requested: reader is a hair dresser and Austin comes in to get his haircut (this is it first time they meet) notes: masterlist on my sidebar, thank you for all the requests everyone :) let me know if you’d like to be added to a general taglist warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff

It’s not that you don’t enjoy cutting hair, it’s not that exactly—you can understand the benefits of being a great hairdresser, the people you meet, the different styles you get to master, the whole process of maybe helping someone feel like their very best selves. You enjoy talking to people, just like anyone else who might in a service industry job, like bartending or being a waitress, you like listening to the people in your chair tell their stories about their friends, family, jobs, relationships, drama—and then especially if they’re a repeat customer? You get to build a kinship with them, a smaller circle of family almost. You’ve had customers that have gone through milestones and you get to hear about them between washing and cutting—weddings, babies, funerals, you get cards over the holidays and bottles of wine sometimes just because. Not to even mention the customer that brought you the cupcakes on your birthday, that was something special.

So no, it’s not about the experience of doing hair…

It’s just sometimes? The day-in-day-out can become sort of daunting, boring, monotonous. Not to mention? You’re kinda in this silent rivalry with another girl who works at the salon, named Carly. She has the chair closest to the door so, in a way, unless someone requests you she picks and chooses who she wants to see, sending the rest down the row. You try not to have an attitude about it because everyone deserves to have a great haircutting experience, so you don’t treat anyone differently. But at the same time? Carly cherry picks the easy appointments, giving herself breaks and a longer lunch sometimes because of it, or scoops up hot guys while she sends the tiny grandmas all the way down to your chair.

No matter, right? Little does Carly know that the grandmothers usually have the best stories…and she’s gotten some homemade cookies out of it come second or third appointments. You’re just annoyed that she pretends she’s God’s gift to haircutting.

Slipping out of her chair after she checks the time on her phone, she moves to grab her bag and jacket. Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “Where are you going?”

“Headed out for the night, Vic,” That’s her boyfriend, “and I want to try this new restaurant tonight.”

You open and close your mouth a moment, sitting up in your own chair, “We don’t close for another thirty.”

Carly rolls her eyes, “And look at this place,” She motions around, “It’s a graveyard, we don’t have any more appointments and no one else will be in for the rest of the night. You can handle it, right?”

God, you are biting your tongue so damn hard. It has nothing to do with whether you can handle it because, yes, obviously you can. It’s about the fact that the owner wants two people here at close and Carly once again is trying to sneak out just because she can.

“I mean, you don’t have any plans, do you?” She raises her eyebrows, waiting with bated breath for you to tell her the plans you have for your social life. Because she knows you don’t have anything going on tonight. Again, not the point.

“That doesn’t matter—”

“Thought so,” She smiles, waving over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

“Bitch.” You mumble under your breath, shaking your head as you take your phone out and scroll Instagram while you wait for the clock to run out. There’s this taco place around the corner that you had for lunch on Tuesday and haven’t been able to stop thinking of since, so maybe you’ll go there when you close up.

Standing from the chair after about ten minutes of mindless scrolling later (you’re starting to see black dots in your vision so it’s probably best to stop), you hear the door open and hit the little bell that signals a customer. Sighing and tipping your head back, you should have locked the thing when Carly left.

“Sorry, are you still open?”

You bite down on all the nasty comments that want to slip out of your mouth because you’re cranky. Yes, obviously, the door is unlocked—

And then stop short when you turn and look at the person lingering.

You almost find yourself doing a double-take because no, it…it can’t be who you’re thinking of. Just a trick of the light or something or one of those really good lookalikes. Maybe a twin or…? Doppelgänger? Your mom is always telling you that everyone in the world has one to three people who look exactly like them. That’s probably what this is.

“Uh,” You clear your throat, “I’m actually getting ready to close.”

He steps in further and frowns, “This is gonna sound so—” He shakes his head, “I waited until the last minute to get a haircut and now I got this thing tonight that I’m already late to. You’d be doin’ me a huge favor.”

Chewing on your lower lip, taking a longer look at him and…you’re so sure. This is Austin Butler, right? The dude that played Elvis and was in that terrible zombie movie for a few minutes until his character was ripped apart? His hair isn’t dark, dirty blonde curls that are looking a little wild.

“What? Fancy Hollywood party?”

He laughs lightly, chewing on his lower lip. There’s this softest pink to his cheeks like he’s still not used to being recognized in public, “Somethin’ like that.”

Running a hand through your hair, you nod softly before motioning to your chair. Austin smiles and moves forward, taking a seat in front of you. Your eyes graze over his form in the mirror, the light pair of jeans he has on and a simple white tee—he’s so…relaxed. Honestly you’d never know he was this up-and-coming big-time name, apparently late for some sort of fancy event.

“Thank you.” He says as you grab the black plastic shawl to put around his neck. You respond with a small smile, gently waving him off. Not that big of a deal, just a trim (you’re assuming) and then you can grab tacos and head home for the night. “I’m Austin.”

“Y/N and I know,” You admit and you hope that’s okay? “I mean, I’ve seen some of your filmography. Just incredible in The Dead Don’t Die.” And while you’re kinda teasing? You think he’s pretty great in anything you’ve watched him in, there’s this laugh that comes forward from Austin’s chest—he hadn’t expected you to say that.

You smile at him in the mirror, reaching for a spray bottle, comb, and scissors. Putting the last two in your waist apron, you feel like there’s a bottle of butterflies spilling over in your stomach at the concept of running your hands through this man’s hair…literally the dream of so many people out there. You clamp down on being ridiculous, you’re a professional and you need to act as such but…still, doesn’t mean you can’t think about it.

“Glad you enjoyed that—not one of my most talked about things.”

“Is it The Carrie Diaries?” You smile a little and he doesn’t seem to mind the banter, so. “You just want a trim?”

“Please, just kinda get it under control—tame it somehow.”

A laugh leaves your lips before you nod; should be simple enough. Some of it has just gotten a little long and it’s giving the waves a bit of an unruly vibe but…still attractive. He could pull it off at least if he wanted to. When your hair needs something done it just looks unkempt. Letting out a soft sigh, you reach for the spray bottle and give it a few pulls into his hair and run your hand through it.

With the strands damp, you figure out what his kind of hair needs before pulling out your comb and scissors, getting to work. If only you could find someone to believe the fact that you’re almost at closing cutting Austin Butler’s hair—quite a bingo card square.

“How long have you worked here?”

Chewing on your lower lip in concentration, you glance at Austin in the mirror before snipping at a few strands, “Three years. I’m uh…trying to write a book,” And you have no idea why you’re telling this man this. You don’t even dive into it with your repeat customers but…there’s something about Austin’s eyes, a genuine air to the way he carries himself, kinda lulls you right into the words leaving your mouth.

“Like I…meet so many people here with such interesting stories, I’ve been compiling them with permission and,” You shrug, “Attempting to put something together.”

You turn the chair a little, using the comb to smooth some of his hair back before you start cutting again. Austin purses his lips, glancing up at you with soft amusement, “Is this gonna be a chapter?”

You pause, smiling a little as your stomach does this ridiculous flutter. How does anyone talk to him on a normal basis? “Guess that depends,” You turn the chair to the other side to even everything out, “Do I have your permission? Could be a real page turner.”

He laughs lightly before nodding, “Yeah sure, go head.”

Pleased, you make a mental checklist to go through after you’re done here—can at least type a few pages when you go home with tacos. Knowing he’s on a time crunch, you turn him in the chair to face the mirror and make sure it’s touched up enough for him and that he doesn’t want anything else.

“You can uh,” You motion to the small table near the mirror. “Grab some styling gel or whatever you want if you’re running late.” Usually you’d just do it yourself without a second thought but Austin, you’re sure, knows how to style his own hair. Besides, last thing you’d want is to put a curl out of place when he’s no doubt going to be having his picture taken a ton of times at whatever event he’s going to.

Once you take the black shawl off him, he moves to pick up one of the gel bottles, “I owe you one.”

A soft laugh leaves your lips because no, he really doesn’t. The story and getting paid is good enough for you. You undo the apron around your waist, setting it down on your chair as you wander towards the counter up front where you can input his haircut into the iPad.

“How bout an invite to whatever party you’re going to?” You tease, “Will Brad Pitt be there?”

Austin chuckles, pulling his card out to pay once he’s standing in front of you, “How bout coffee?” He offers and then leaves a substantial tip that is triple what the haircut is even worth. You shake your head but your cheeks feel warm—it’s generous, you know he thinks he was some sort of inconvenience when it wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s only ten minutes past closing.

He signs and you hand him the receipt with raised eyebrows. Coffee? You find yourself shrugging in agreement because you already know he’s just being nice; you’re never going to see him again and that’s fine. You understand how reality works.

“Have a nice night.”

Austin smiles, fingers brushing as he takes the slip of paper from you. “You too—thanks again.”

Nodding, you offer a small wave and follow him to the door to lock it. There are a few moments where you watch him walk away, almost having this sense of surrealness settle on your shoulders.

You suppose you should actually thank Carly for once for sneaking out early.

It’s another one of those days where the most interesting thing going on is the weather outside, the range of sunshine to a weird bout of rain changing hands every twenty minutes. For now the rain seems to have stopped, the sun bright against the pavement. There are hints of rainbows along the glass every so often.

Carly has been doing her usual bitchy goal in life to grab customers from the front and send the ‘leftovers’ down your way, so your current chair work has been two older men with the beginning of bald spots and a grandmother type who has a too-strong scent of gardenias. You’re about to take an early lunch when the door opens again, the soft bell sounding, and Carly’s eyes go wide as saucers as she fixes her eyes on—

Austin.

Well, well, color you surprised. You would have put all that tip money on the fact that you wouldn’t see him again, let alone have him step through the hair salon doors a second time. You can’t help but smile a little, leaning against the back of your chair, your eyes taking him in. Damn, he looks so good. Another pair of jeans, darker this time, paired with some boots and an open denim button down, white t-shirt underneath. Should probably be a crime to look that good with such a simple outfit on.

Carly quickly steps around her chair to approach him with a bright smile, “Hi, what can I help you with?”

“I’m uh—” Austin trails off, looking down the row of chairs. His eyes land on you with a light smile, “Actually I’m here to see Y/N.”

The look on Carly’s face when Austin walks past her has to be one of the best things you’ve ever seen. You can’t help but smile, turning your attention towards him as he comes to stand in front of you.

“You know, we’ve got to stop meeting like this,” You tease, “These emergency haircuts are getting out of control.”

Austin grins, running a hand through his perfectly coifed curls. “Actually, I was hopin’ you had time to grab that coffee? If you want.”

Oh, you definitely want. “I mean, it’s the least you can do.” You smirk. You undo your apron, setting it on your chair to take your lunch hour and follow him out of the salon.

Definitely not a daunting, boring or monotonous day.

Thanks for reading!

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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elianamarie-blog · 1 year

Text

The Things You Give Pt. 29

Woooooooww. It's been WAY too long! I'm so sorry my loves. Thank you for still reading my content though! I can't tell youhow much it means to me. You all are amazing and make my day by your likes and comments! I lost a lot of inspiration towards the end of last year and it was hard to write when you don't have that or any of the creative juices flowing, but I fought it because of you guys, so thank you for keeping me writing! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Much love!

February 28, 1979

Point Place, Wisconsin

Forman Residence

Eric Forman’s Basement

“You guys, listen to this ad,” Eric announced. “Do you like to draw? Well, I have been known to trace my hand and turn it into a turkey. If so, have your artistic ability evaluated by the cartoon academy of Fort Lauderdale.”

“Ooh, I think Picasso went there,” Kelso said.

“All I have to do is send in my drawing of Sanchez the turtle and a money order for $19.95. 20 bucks to get judged by a panel of cartoon experts? I'd pay twice that,” Eric said, grabbing a pad and pen.

“Okay, besides that, Donna…how’s the radio station going?” Jackie asked.

“It’s good,” she responded. “I get to host Tuesdays and Thursday’s from one to five A.M. Boss man is even thinking of letting me cohost with—get this—Jerry Thunder!”

“That’s awesome!” Kelso cried out excitedly. “You get to work with ‘The Sound!’” He lowered his voice, imitating the radio station announcement.

“Do you have any idea what this could mean for my career?” Donna continued.

"Oh, my God! You're going to be famous!" Jackie squealed.

“Exactly,” Eric responded. “Awe, my girl is going to be radio famous.”

“What about you, Steven?” Jackie asked, turning to him. “How’s work going?”

“Fine?” Hyde questioned, eyeing her. “Why are you so interested in other people’s lives?”

“Can’t I be interested in my friends’ lives?” she asked innocently.

“No,” he said flatly. “You’ve never have. What’s gotten into you?”

She sighed. “Well, Markus told me that I need to start taking an interest in other people’s lives other than my own, otherwise people won’t really love me like they say they do. And when I said that they do actually love me, he said they were lying to me. Is that true?”

Everyone went silent; not knowing how to respond.

Y/n clicked her tongue. “Um…well…”

“Who’s going to tell her?” Hyde asked. “Because I’m about to hurt her feelings."

“Oh, it’s true!” Jackie whined. “I thought I was being lovable. You know—like the nice princess from The Wizard of Oz.”

“Yeah,” Eric said slowly. “You’re not. You’re more like the wicked witch of the west.”

“Alright, as fun as this is, I need to get to work,” Hyde announced.

“Who’s running the store while you’re here?” Donna asked.

“Angie. She’s really wound tight on when we open,” he responded, rolling his eyes. “She’s always bitching about me not being there early and opening up on time and not closing early. It’s stupid.”

“Man, Angie is so pretty,” Kelso cooed.

“What have I said when talking about my sister?” Hyde asked gruffly.

“Don’t put her name or pretty or anything of the like in the same sentence,” he responded, not making eye contact.

“That’s right,” Hyde responded. “Anyway, Angie likes to jump my ass about everything. I didn’t close last night so now it’s apparently my fault that the store looked like a mess this morning.”

“Well, then who closed?” Y/n asked.

“Me. I closed six hours early and apparently that’s bad business. But in my defense, I had an important appointment to go to.”

“Oh, your baby appointments?” Kelso asked as he started throwing a ball into the air.

“No, I had an appointment at my darts tournament.”

“Steven,” Y/n lectured. “I know your sister is hard to work with but maybe you shouldn’t make her make your life more miserable.”

“Betrayal!” Steven cried out, pretending to be offended at his wife.

Y/n shook her head at him.

“I thought you guys didn’t get along?” Fez asked. “Why are you defending her?”

“Hey, right is right and wrong is wrong,” she replied. “And right now, Steven is wrong.”

“I think this calls for a divorce,” Eric said.

“Shut up, Eric,” Y/n said, propping her feet up on the table. “Steven, if you want her to get off your ass, maybe try pulling your weight around the store. It’s called running a business.”

“I’d hate to admit it, Hyde, but she’s right,” Donna said.

“What’s going on here?” Hyde asked. “I can’t believe you’re on her side!”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but this time she’s right,” Y/n responded. “It’s like me doing all the cooking and cleaning around the house and taking care of the kids while you’re away at work, and then coming home just to go to bed.”

Steven blinked at her. “Okay, where’s the lesson in that?”

“Steven!” she screeched. “My point is you can’t just show up and not expect to do any work. Especially at your own store.”

Steven made a face and sighed. “Fine. But I’m going to complain the whole time.”

She shook her head at him. “That’s fine. As long as work gets done. And I expect the same at home too!”

“Sure. But just so you know you’re going to have pay me too.”

“I can’t. It’s illegal if I do,” she sassed.

He smirked at her. “I love you.”

She smiled. “Love you, too.”

“Alright, well, I’m going.”

“Oh, don’t forget, we have a class later tonight.”

“What class?”

“A class on how to take care of a baby,” she said. “Remember? I signed us up for it with my mom. The same class Kelso and Brooke took.”

He groaned. “Come on, Y/n, do I really have to go?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m not going to be the only one changing poopy diapers.”

“See, I was thinking I could be in charge of what goes into the babies and you’re in charge of what comes out.” The look on her face said otherwise. “Fine.”

She perked up immediately. “Thank you. It’s at 6. Be here by 5:30.”

He huffed. “Okay.” With that, he walked out the basement, leaving the rest behind.

“And I’m hungry,” Y/n said and brought her feet down. “Babies and I want a snack. Maybe a bowl of fruit. And then some ice cream.” As she struggled to get up, Donna reached out to her. “No, no I got it.” She pushed herself up, but fell back into the chair. She sucked in a breath and launched herself out of the chair, barley landing on her feet. “See,” she said, breathing hard. “I got it.” She wobbled upstairs.

“What did she mean by that?” Fez asked innocently.

“What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“When she said it’s illegal if she pays him. I thought getting an allowance was normal?”

Everyone giggled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Think about it, Fez,” Jackie said. “Really think. Long and hard.”

Fez was quiet as everyone looked at him, waiting for him to get it. It didn’t take a long for a sly smile to break out on his face. He giggled. “I get it.”

“We should probably go too,” Kelso said and tapped Fez’s shoulder. “We have an apartment that we’re going to go look at.”

“You guys haven’t found an apartment yet?” Jackie asked. “Fez, where have you been sleeping this whole time?”

“With me,” Kelso responded. “But I think my parents are getting sick of us.”

“What—you guys giggle like a bunch of school girls all night?” Donna chuckled.

Fez’s eyes grew a fraction. “Have you guys been spying on us?!”

“It’s true?!” Eric said, laughing.

“You know what? We really need to get going,” Kelso said and grabbed the scruff of Fez’s jacket. “See ya!”

“I swear, they’re in love or something,” Donna chuckled.

“Eh,” Eric shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

--Time Skip—

Y/n and Steven walked into the classroom that night. Plastic babies littered the room and a few other soon-to-be parents were all there and seated.

“Come on, Y/n, do we really have to do this?” Steven whined.

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “We’ve never been around babies before so we need to be prepared.”

Just as she said that, a large impregnated woman waddled by them and sat in a seat farthest away from them.

“Oh, my God,” Y/n said under her breath. “She has to be in her third trimester. That looks painful.”

“Either she’s having multiple kids or her baby is going to rip her apart.”

“Not helping, Steven.”

“Hey, you two,” Kitty cooed excitedly as she walked up to the couple. “Steven, you ready to talk about burps, boo-boo’s, and binkies?”

“Yeah, sure,” he responded flatly.

“Oh, come on don’t be such a sour puss,” Kitty said. “You should be glad to be here! Especially since I’m going to be the one to guide you into parenthood.” She gave them an excited, crinkled smile.

“I wouldn’t say I’m glad—” Steven started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Shut up, Steven.”

He clamped his jaw shut as Kitty continued.

“Well, I am so glad that you’re here anyway,” she said. “It makes it better knowing that I’m guiding you to become better parents for my grandbabies!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Forman,” Steven said genuinely.

“You’re welcome, dear.” She turned to address the rest of the class. “Okay, everyone have a seat!” Kitty announced from the front. As everyone sat down, Kitty began. “Now, when your little bundle of joy is first born, they will spend almost 20 hours a day pooping and sleeping. Who else can tell me what else they’ll be doing?”

Y/n raised her hand eagerly. “Eating.”

“Great job, Y/n!” Kitty praised. “Now, what do babies eat?”

“Breast milk and formula!” a red-headed woman said eagerly.

“Yes, great job! Now, when your baby is born and it’s time to breastfeed, don’t be alarmed when the first couple of feedings may feel uncomfortable. Once the baby latches on properly to the nipple, it should feel less uncomfortable and more of a tugging on the breast.”

As Kitty continued her teaching, Steven leaned into Y/n’s ear and smirked. “So…nothing new for you then, right?”

“Shut up, Steven,” Y/n said, blushing.

He snickered and leaned away, eyes forward.

“And just so you know,” Y/n whispered, leaning into his side this time. “You just burned yourself.”

“What? How so?”

She chuckled breathlessly. “You basically said that all you do is tug…like a baby.”

His smirk dropped immediately. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” she chuckled. “You just got burned, sucka!”

The room went dead silent as Kitty stared at them.

“Is there something you two would like to share?” she asked the couple who looked at like deer caught in the headlights.

“No,” Steven said.

“No, ma’am,” Y/n said in unison.

Kitty gave a curt nod before returning to the board.

⧝⧝⧝

“Hey, this place is nice!” Kelso exclaimed as he and Fez walked through the empty apartment. “Big enough to bring the ladies over.” He smirked at his friend.

“And your daughter?” Fez reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

The two young men walked around the two-bedroom apartment, admiring it. The living room was spacious with the bathroom and master bedroom immediately to the left of entering. Straight ahead was a decent sized kitchen with a half wall bar looking straight into it. There was a hall to the left of it that lead to the smaller bedroom and a sliding door.

“I think we should go fill out an application before someone else nabs it,” Fez said and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to go find the landlord before I—oof!” As he had turned around to leave, he had bumped straight into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry—oh, it’s you.”

The man stood there with a disgusted look on his face and folded arms across his chest. He was skinny with short thinning brown hair with a matching mustache. “Fez,” he said.

“Fenton,” Fez replied in the same tone and matched his stance.

“What are you doing in my apartment?”

Fez brought his eyebrows together. “What do you mean ‘your’ apartment?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Fenton smirked. “I’m the landlord of this joint. And before you fill out an application, the answer is no.”

“What? Why?” Fez asked, disappointed.

“You know why,” he responded and turned to Kelso. “But…I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

Kelso shifted uncomfortably in his place. “Uh…thanks man, but I don’t swing that way.”

“You don’t have to for me to give you this apartment. You’re way too pretty to pass that easily.”

A smug smile pressed into Kelso’s lips. “I know.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you this apartment right here, right now under one condition: You don’t make him your roommate.”

Kelso looked between the two men, stumbling for words. “I don’t—I can’t—”

“Are you serious? You can’t decide right now?” Fez asked, hurt.

“Well, I mean—I need a place, man. A place to raise my daughter.”

“But you can’t just leave me! You need a roommate to help pay the rent and I need a place a live!”

“I know, man, but I got to think of me and my daughter,” Kelso admitted sheepishly.

“I can’t believe this,” Fez said. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Fez, I am your friend!”

“No, you’re not, you son of a bitch!” He stomped out the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Fez!” Kelso called and started to run out the door, but Fenton caught him by the shoulder.

“Hey, the offer is still on the table, my friend.”

Kelso shook his head. “No. Not from you.” He walked out, to go find his friend.

⧝⧝⧝

“Oh, that’s great Kyra,” Kitty said, watching the redhead wrap a cloth diaper around a baby doll. “Snug so that it fits well and comfortable, but not too snug to cause rash and discomfort. And certainly not too loose! You can imagine what happens when it is!” Kitty laughed and moved onto to the next couple—Y/n and Hyde.

Y/n was struggling to wrap the diaper correctly around the plastic baby. The diaper wouldn’t stay pinned, or it wouldn’t fit right. She was beginning to get flustered and frustrated.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” Steven muttered.

“I know how it’s done, Steven!” Y/n snapped.

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled and finally pinned the diaper. “There!” She held up the baby in the air, showcasing it to her husband.

Kitty stepped up to their side with a look of concern. “Well, that’s very good, Y/n, but the needle of the pin isn’t supposed to go into the baby’ stomach.”

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. “Oh, forget it!” She threw the baby down onto the table. “I’m going to be a terrible mother!”

“No, no, you’re not,” Steven said gently and picked up the baby. “I’m probably going to be a worse father—” Y/n shot him a glare. “I mean…a bad father while you…my darling…are you going to be the best gosh darn mother out there.”

She made a face at him, not believing him.

“L-look, it’s not that hard, see?” he stammered and unpinned the needle from the baby. With gentle hands, he undid the diaper and folded the bottom up, then left, and then right. He carefully pinned the diaper down and brought the baby up.

“Wow, great job, Steven!” Kitty cheered. “This looks amazing!”

“Where did you learn to do this?” Y/n asked, confused and marveled at the diaper.

“Well, when my mom would bring home one of my ‘uncles’, he sometimes would bring a kid and my mom, being the terrible person that she is, would make me in charge of watching these kids. Sometimes they were still in diapers. And if I didn’t want my house smelling like crap, then I had to learn how to change a diaper. So…viola.” He held the baby in the palm of his hand.

Y/n stared at it for a second with watery eyes before turning around and stomped out the room.

Steven sighed and set down the baby. “I better go after her. I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Forman.”

Y/n was about to exit the building when Steven called after her.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Please, leave me alone,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anybody right now.”

“Look, come on,” he said, now at her side and grabbed her elbow. “You know you’re going to be the best mom you can be.”

“How can you know that? If I can’t put on a simple diaper, what makes you think I can do anything else?”

Steven chuckled at her.

“This isn’t funny, Steven!”

“No, no, it’s just that I find humorous that it’s you instead of me.”

“What?” she spat.

“I mean I thought it’d me feeling this way instead of you. I always thought you’d be the one to know what to do before me.”

“Well, I’m glad I could to be of service,” she deadpanned.

“Look, Doll,” he said and grabbed her hands. “You’re going to be great, I promise.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said solemnly and withdrew her hands. “I need to go, I’ll see you at home.”

“Where you going?”

“There’s someone I need to go talk to.” She pushed open the door to walk out.

“You can’t go!”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because we drove here together!”

“Oh, right.”

⧝⧝⧝

Y/n raised her fist and nervously knocked on the door in front of her. Padded footsteps could be heard from inside before the door swung open.

Brooke stood in front of her in a pink night gown, hair brushed and braided down her back. “Y/n…what are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you this late, but…I was wondering if I can talk to you?”

“Uh…sure,” Brooke replied, a little surprised to see someone she barley spoke to standing on her doorstep. She opened the door wider, gesturing for Y/n to come in. She made her way to the kitchen. “Have a seat and make yourself at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Um…no thank you,” she replied and closed the door behind her. “I won’t be here long.”

“Okay,” Brooke said, grabbing a mug of hot tea and sat down next to Y/n. She smiled at the visibly bothered girl who sat down beside her and crossed her legs. “What’s up?”

Y/n sighed, struggling to find the right words. “When—when you were pregnant with Betsy…were you nervous?”

Brooke tilted her head in thought, jutting her lower lip out. “Well…sure. I mean, who isn’t when it’s their first child?” She chuckled, remembering the thought. “Especially when the father of your child is…well…Michael.”

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I can imagine.” Her gaze dropped to her hands that laid in her lap. “Did you ever feel like you were going to be a bad mom? Because you had no idea what the hell you’d be doing?”

Brooke nodded. “Yeah…I did. Michael and I went to that baby class Mrs. Forman teaches and I could barley put the diaper on that stupid plastic baby.”

Y/n perked up. “Me too! How did you learn to do it?”

Brooke smiled gently at her. “It became second nature once I held Betsy in my arms.”

Y/n was silent for a minute. “But what if it doesn’t? What if—what if I do everything wrong and fail my babies?”

“You’re not going to,” Brooke soothed and tapped Y/n’s knee. “Once they are born, your motherly instincts will kick in. It’s expected.”

“Wasn’t for Steven’s mom.”

“Steven’s mom is a special case,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “You’re not going to be like her.”

“Well, I know that!” Y/n exclaimed, making Brooke laugh. “I just don’t want to be dunce that can’t figure out how to keep a baby happy.”

“You want to know the secret to a happy baby?” Brooke asked, leaning in.

Y/n perked up. “Yes!”

“There isn’t,” she deadpanned. “You’re never going to have a happy baby 100 percent of the time. They’re going to cry when they’re hungry, tired, have a full diaper, or just want to be held. Sometimes, they’re gonna cry just to cry.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. At some point they’re going to get old enough to throw a fit. Betsy is old enough now to scream when she gets mad.”

“Really?” Y/n asked, most surprised than the last time she asked.

“Yeah,” Brooke sighed and rubbed her temples. “I love that little girl with all my heart, but sometimes I just want to give her a small taste of my mother’s bourbon in her milk so she can go to sleep.”

“Wait…do you?” she asked, taken aback and if she were being honest…a little amused.

“No,” Brooke chuckled and took a sip of her tea. “It’s tempting though when it’s three a.m. and she still isn’t asleep.”

Y/n chuckled. “I can imagine.” She looked down into her lap as a sudden pressure formed on her chest. “You know what? I think I’ll take that tea now.”

Brooke noticed her sudden change in demeanor, nodded quickly and rushed to the kitchen to grab her a cup of tea. When she rushed back in with a hot cup, she saw Y/n taking slow, steady breaths. Y/n accepted the cup graciously.

“I’m don’t think I’m ready to have kids,” she quivered, taking a sip from her tea.

Brooke looked at her awkwardly. “Erm…wouldn’t you rather be talking about this with your friends—"

Y/n didn’t even bother to hear what she was saying. “I’m going to make a terrible mother. I mean—I don’t know anything about babies! I read in the book Eric got me for Christmas that babies have six different cries. SIX! How am I supposed to know which ones which?”

“Okay, I guess we’re talking about it.”

“And then top of that, if I somehow manage to keep them alive, I have no idea what kind of parent I’m going to be.”

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay,” Brooke said nervously, trying to soothe her.

“No, it’s not,” Y/n practically sobbed. “I have no idea what I’m going to do!”

“I felt the same way,” she responded calmly.

“You did?”

“Oh, yeah. I had no idea what I was doing when Betsy was born. But eventually, it got easier.”

Y/n let out a small breath of relief. “Maybe I have a chance.”

“Of course you do. Every mom that is worried about being a good mom is a good mom.”

She moved the corner of her mouth upwards. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Brooke scooted a little closer to her. “Listen, becoming a new parent is stressful enough as it is. It doesn’t help when you’re eighteen and just starting your career at the library and you get knocked up at a Molly Hatchet concert.” She clicked her tongue, staring off angrily in the distance and shook her head. “Stupid Michael.”

Y/n’s gaze flicked to her and then anywhere else in the room, confused. “I assume we’re no longer talking about me.”

Brooke shook her head. “Sorry. Look, my point is, you’re going to make an amazing mom. I was scared too, but now I can’t imagine my life without my daughter. Regardless of how you feel, you’re going to make mistakes, but that’s not going to make your children love you any less.”

She smiled at Brooke. “Thanks, Brooke. That means a lot.”

“Anytime,” she hummed and leaned back. “So…what’s it like being married to one of the stooges?”

Y/n chuckled. “You got some time?”

⧝⧝⧝

“Push, Y/n, push!” Steven encouraged as he held his wife’s hand.

Y/n sat there with her legs hiked up on a table, a female nurse sitting between her legs.

“Steven, before we continue, I just wanted to say that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had,” Y/n said with a certain twinkle in her eyes.

Steven smirked. “I know. Now, come on just a couple more pushes!”

She hunched forward and barley pushed before a squealing baby could be heard.

“Congratulations it’s a boy!” the nurse exclaimed.

“Oh, my God,” the couple breathed together as they watched another nurse take the baby away.

“Okay, one more time,” the nurse said and had Y/n push once again. As easily as the first, another baby popped out, it’s cries echoing the room. “Congrats, it’s another boy!”

As the Hyde’s sat back to relax, satisfied smile on their faces, the doctor perked up.

“What?” Y/n asked. “What is it?”

The nurse’s eyes lifted to meet Steven’s and Y/n’s. “Another baby is coming out…”

“WHAT?!” the couple yelled in unison.

“That’s impossible,” Y/n panicked.

“No one told you were having triplets?” the nurse asked.

“NO!” the couple once again said in unison.

“Okay, this is almost unheard of!” she exclaimed almost excitedly. “Okay, Y/n I’m going to need you to push one more time.”

“N-no! I’m not ready to have another baby!” she cried out.

“It’s a little late for that now!” Kitty said from the corner of the room. “You should’ve used a condom!”

“Mom?” Y/n asked through her quickened breaths. “When did you get here?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been here the whole time!” she said. “Now, saddle up and push!”

All Y/n had to do was barley push for the baby to come out.

“It’s another boy!” The nurse held the baby in her hands before her eyes grew wide. “Another one is coming!”

“NO!” the couple screamed together.

“It’s a girl! Oh…another one!”

The couple screamed as the baby came out without Y/n needing to push.

As the baby girl came out, another one came out, and then another, and another…and another. They kept on coming until there was a total of 100 babies—crying, screaming, pooping, and drooling.

“Look, Steven,” Y/n gushed. “Look at our beautiful family.” As she spoke, her voice grew deeper and distorted.

Steven stared at her in disbelief at her sudden attitude change when not even a minute ago she was panicking.

“Wait—what?” he asked through bated breaths. “This isn’t—this isn’t real. This isn’t happening.”

“Oh, but it is,” she replied, her smile growing in a distorted and an unnatural way. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was possessed—or the joker. “Steven, there’s no way out of this. You did this to me and now you must face before your consequences.”

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere. I—you’re not Y/n. My Y/n knows that.”

“You’re right,” she replied, now standing up. Her body seemed lankier, her limbs longer now. Her eyes grew dark as her skin paled. “Y/n is not here anymore.”

“Steven…” a weak, fragile voice came from behind him. He spun around to see a mirror facing him. Instead of seeing his own reflection, he saw his wife standing there. She looked small and frail, but it was her. Her hair once beautiful hair was dull and lacked life. Her face looked gaunt and her eyes were sunken—exhausted. What once was life and happiness and love in her eyes now only showed sadness. “Steven, I want out.”

He ambled over to the mirror, scared and confused in what appeared in front of him. “What the hell is happening?”

“I need help,” she cried. “Please, I need help!”

“With what?! Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it!”

“You should know! You caused this!” Y/n screamed at him, tears rolling down her face.

“Caused what?!”

“This,” the other Y/n croaked in a deep voice and pointed a long finger at the mountain of screaming babies. “You failed your family.”

“No! I—I swear I didn’t—I don’t want to!”

“But you did!” The real Y/n screamed. “You left me! I was drowning and you did nothing but watch me! Now, I’m nothing but an empty shell of what I once was! How could you do this to me?! You promised me!”

“But I’m still here!”

“For now,” the ugly, creepy Y/n said. “You’re going to leave just like the man who raised you did.”

“This is all your fault!” his real wife screamed, eyes now wide and erratic. She pointed her finger at him, tears still streaming down her face. “Your fault! Look what you made of me! This is your fault!”

“No!” Steven cried out. He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “This isn’t real! This can’t be.”

“But it is,” a familiar voice came from the mirror. Steven opened his eyes to not see his wife anymore, but to see the one person he thought he’d never see.

“Dad?” He asked, shakily.

“Hey, Steven,” Bud said, shoving his hands in his pockets casually. His shaggy brown hair still hung passed his ears and he wore a flannel shirt and jeans—the last outfit he saw him in before he left him.

Steven couldn’t respond. He ran his hands through his hair, but when he did he saw Bud mimic his movements. As he brought his hands back down to his side, Bud did the same. He waved at the mirror only to his horror to see his supposed father wave his hand. When Steven inched closer to it, Bud followed suit.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Bud continued, a smirk painting his face. “Get a grip on reality, Steven. This is your future!”

“No, I am nothing like you!”

Bud clicked his tongue. “Then why did you do what you did?”

Steven shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you keep thinking that. But you’ll eventually end up just like your dad.”

“No, I won’t!” Steven seethed. “You don’t know me.”

“But I do. You’re just like everybody else in this family—a lowlife. You’ve got nothing to bring to the table.”

Steven’s chest was heaving from anger. “Go to hell, Bud.”

“I’ll see you there.”

“What—?”

Before Steven could finish his sentence, the ground beneath him disappeared and swallowed him whole. He screamed as he fell through the never-ending darkness.

“No!” Steven screamed as he jerked awake. It took him a minute to take in his surroundings, gathering his bearings. When he realized it was just a dream, he was heaving and his heart was racing. He glanced over at the bedside clock and it read 4:40am. He looked to his left to see his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. Seeing her there and looking healthy and not possessed brought him a wave of peace and relief. His sudden jerking movements must have wakened her because she stirred awake.

“Babe?” she asked groggy. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his racing heart calming down. “Just a bad dream.”

She hummed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He stared down at her, taking her in, trying to forget the image of her from his dream. "No, I'm okay."

"Come here.” She opened her arms and he graciously fell into them. She rubbed his back and caressed his hair, making him feel safe. “It was just a nightmare. It’s over now. You’re safe.”

His grip around her tightened and her belly pressed into his stomach. “I know.”

“Good.”

As they began to fall back into their slumber, Steven felt something move across his stomach. At first, he thought Y/n had shifted her position. But it wasn’t until he felt a little poke to his stomach.

“What the—” Steven said, scrambling away from his wife. “Did you feel that?!”

The feeling jolted her awake as well. “Yeah, I did.” She felt more movement and another poke to her stomach. “Oh, my God…I think the babies are kicking!”

“Seriously?!” he asked, surprised. He pressed his hands to her stomach, waiting for another kick. When it came, his heart skipped a beat. “Oh, my God. There’s actually something in there.”

“Yeah,” she replied, holding her stomach in awe. “There is.”

Steven looked up to meet her loving gaze. She cupped his face before he kissed her belly. “Does it feel weird?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “But a good weird.”

Another kick to her stomach. “Man, these kids are kicking like crazy!”

“I know! This is incredible.”

“It really is,” he whispered.

Y/n tilted her head. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah…just. Makes it real, you know?”

She placed her hands over his. “I do.”

He huffed through his nose and pressed his lips to her belly once more. “I promise to be the best dad I can be.”

Y/n’s heart and stomach filled with butterflies. “And I promise to be the best mom I can be.”

He looked at her once more before reaching up and placing a sweet kiss to her lips.

∞∞∞

“So, he’s not talking to you now?” Donna asked Kelso as he, Jackie, Eric, Y/n, Steven and Kitty sat in the kitchen waiting for brunch to finish cooking.

“No,” Kelso responded. “He packed up his stuff and left. I called his host parents and they haven’t heard anything from him. He hasn’t called me to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know, I’m worried about him guys.”

“Hey, Kelso, if things don’t work out with Angie, you and Fez should get together,” Y/n joked.

“Wait, why Angie?” Steven asked, glaring at his friend. “Kelso, what does she mean by that?”

“Nothing. It was a joke,” Kelso chuckled nervously and shot a glare to Y/n.

“Was it?” Steven pushed and turned to his wife. “Now, darling, were you joking? You wouldn’t lie to your husband, would you?”

Y/n gulped nervously. “N-no, of course not.”

“Then what did you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” she stuttered. “I was just…making a poor joke.”

Hyde squinted at her behind his glasses. “I don’t believe you.”

“Wow! Look at the time I really should be going!” She tried to get up quickly, but the new weight of her stomach slowed her down. She achingly stood and tried to stand, but Steven grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Y/n,” he said sternly. “Tell me the truth. Or I’m going to stop doing the thing that you like.”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” Kitty said, stirring the pan of the food.

Y/n stared into her husband’s eyes before cracking. “Kelso has been secretly dating your sister!”

“Y/n!” Kelso shouted. “What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry!” she cried out. “I can’t lie to him! He’s my husband. Besides, when he threatens to take certain things away, he means it.”

Steven smiled proudly. “Damn straight.”

“Look, man, I—” Kelso began, but was cut off by Hyde.

“Nah, you listen to me. I told you to stay away from Angie and you went behind my back and did it anyway. Now, you’re going to pay.”

“Wow, this sounds familiar,” Eric piped up, pretending to think. He looked at Hyde, smirking. “Oh, yeah.”

“Shut up, Forman!” Steven snapped and turned his attention back to Kelso. “Look, I’m not going to tell you again. You’re going to end it, and you’re going to end it now.”

“What? C’mon, man it’s not like we did it or anything!” Kelso defended. “Yet at least.” He stuck his tongue out and nudged Y/n.

“Yeah…I’m not going to do that,” she responded, resting her hand on her stomach.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you knocking her up too,” Hyde said. “And if you do, I will put you six feet under.”

“Yeah, how terrible would that be?” Eric mocked, still smirking.

Hyde glared at his brother-in-law. “I said shut up.” He turned back to Kelso. “I mean it. You and her? Are done.”

“Alright, man, jeez,” Kelso said and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright,” Steven said, satisfied with the answer. “Now, Y/n…”

“Yes, dear?” she asked nervously.

“I’d like to know why you tried to cover Kelso’s ass.”

“I didn’t,” she said, her voice getting higher.

“Yes, you did.” He leaned back in his chair, slinging his arm down the back, and cocked his head to the side. “You want to tell me why?”

“Uh…” she stuttered, her mouth going dry. “Guys, the babies kicked last night!”

“What?!” Everyone shouted, her diversion successful.

Kitty ran over to her and placed her hand on her daughter’s belly. “Oh, my God! My grandbabies kicked!” After a few seconds of no movement, her eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, babies. Kick for Grandma. Kick!”

“Mom, I don’t think that’s how th—” Eric began, but Kitty cut him off with her joyous screeching.

“One of them kicked!” she cried out. “I can’t believe it! One of them kicked! Red! Red, honey, get in here!”

“What?” he asked calmly, entering the kitchen.

“The babies kicked!” she replied excitedly.

“Oh, that’s great,” he said with a grin.

“Come feel it!”

Red cleared his throat and stayed near the door. “No, it’s okay. I believe you.”

“Red, come feel your grandchildren,” Kitty scolded.

“No, I really don’t want to.”

“Red Forman, come feel the life your daughter is bringing into this world right now!”

“But…it’s so awkward,” he whined and cautiously stepped over to Y/n. His hand hovered over her bulging belly.

“It’s okay, Dad, it’s not going to bite,” Y/n chuckled.

Red sighed grumpily before barley placing his fingertips on her stomach. He stood there for a few seconds before he felt movement. His eyes widened slightly before pressing more of his hand onto her belly. Another kick to his hand caused him to withdraw.

He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, there’s that.”

“Red, those are your grandchildren and that’s all you got to say?” Kitty asked.

“Well…there really are babies in there.”

“Yeah, and in three months they’ll be here,” Kitty mentioned, but when she did Hyde’s and Y/n’s faces dropped.

“Th-three months?” Hyde stuttered; his previous frustration complete dissipated.

“Well, yeah!” Kitty answered. She gave them an astonished look as they stared back in panic. “Did you guys think that they weren’t just going to come?”

“No, I-I just thought that w-we had more time,” Y/n said and looked to her husband in a panic.

“What do you mean by that?” Kitty asked, straightening up.

“We, uh, we don’t exactly—” Hyde started.

“Oh, my God!” Kitty yelled. “You guys don’t have anything for the babies?”

“Not exactly…” Y/n answered, looking down.

“Okay, then what do you have?” Kitty asked, standing straight and put her hands on her hips.

“We…have the onesies…that Eric gave us,Y/n said hesitantly.

“That’s all you have?!” Kitty screeched, causing Eric, Y/n, and Steven to cover their ears closest to her.

“Mom, please…dogs can hear you,” Eric said, walking away.

“Steven, what are we going to do?” Y/n asked, worryingly looking to her husband.

He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. I can ask WB if he can give me an advance on my paycheck. I can’t imagine how much this stuff is going to cost.”

“No need,” Kitty said, excited. “This gives us a perfect opportunity to have a baby shower!”

“No!” Red shouted. “No. More. Parties!”

“Red, it won’t be for us,” Kitty argued. “It’ll be for them.” She placed both hands on her daughter’s belly.

“Don’t do this,” Red said. “Don’t use our unborn grandchildren as a way to get your way.”

“I’m not!” she responded and stood straight. “We can have this baby shower and get everything that we need! We won’t have to spend a dime!”

“We still have to spend money on the party!”

“Actually, we can cover that. Right, Steven?” Y/n asked.

“Uh…do I have to be there?” he asked.

“No,” Y/n answered, knowing the answer will satisfy her husband.

“Then yes we can!” he said, more upbeat.

“There you go!” Kitty said, facing her husband. “And I think this calls for the godmother to get everything ready.” She eyed Donna who was chewing on a piece of bacon.

“By myself?” she responded with wide eyes.

“Wait, what?!” Jackie screeched. “You made her godmother?!”

“Well, yeah,” Y/n answered honestly. “She’s my brother’s girlfriend and my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“I told you not to tell her,” Y/n said to Kitty who looked away awkwardly and busied herself with preparing more food. “Jackie, you are my best friend. But I can’t make you my maid of honor and the godmother of my children.”

“Well, why not?”

Y/n made a face at her. “Because I have other friends.”

“Yeah, but I’m the best one!”

"Y/n, let me handle this one,” Eric said and turned to the petite brunette. “Nobody cares. Alright, moving on.”

Jackie clicked her tongue and huffed, sitting down at the counter.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Kitty said. “We need to decide when we can have the party.”

“Hey, are we just going to forget about my problem?” Kelso piped up.

“Oh, yeah,” Steven said. “Kelso, the best thing you can do is…to stop talking about it.” He grinned at his friend when he shot him a glare.

“Steven,” Y/n said firmly and turned back to Kelso. “Just give him a couple days. He’ll come back around.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled.

A beat passed when the sliding door opened and Fez walked in.

“Hello beautiful people,” he greeted cheerfully before his eyes landed on Kelso. “Oh, hello.”

“Hey, buddy. We need to figure this out,” Kelso said.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Fez said bitterly. “You picked an apartment over me! From my arch nemesis out of all people!”

“Fez, he’s not your arch nemesis,” Eric pointed out. “He just gets on your nerves.”

“It doesn’t matter; he still chose the apartment over me!”

“So I can have a place to raise my daughter!” Kelso defended. “Fez, man, you’re my best friend, but I got to think about my kid.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough,” Red said. “I’m going down to the apartment with you and talking to that damn landlord.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Red. That means a lot,” Fez said sweetly.

“Don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” Red replied. “I don’t want you moving back into my house!”

“Also, a fair point,” Steven said in a taunting way and got up to put his plate in the sink.

“Be ready in five minutes,” Red said, grabbing his keys. “I don’t want to deal with this crap any longer.”

“Can we please get back to the topic at hand?” Kitty asked. “When should we have the shower?”

“How ‘bout next Saturday?” Donna suggested. “Gives us enough time to plan and not scatter like we did for the wedding.”

“We’re having a party?” Fez asked. “I want to go to a party.”

“Well, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” Kitty cheered, ignoring Fez. “Oh, I am so excited! I’ll start the guest list!”

“And I’ll start the food and decorations!” Donna said.

“Make sure you put cake on that list,” Y/n said. “I’m on a chocolate kick.”

“Oh, and finger sandwiches!” Kitty exclaimed. She gasped. “And tea!”

“Are we having a baby shower or a tea party?” Fez asked.

“Are you coming?” Y/n asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he responded. “I love planning parties!”

“Fez, it’s a baby shower,” Jackie said. “It’s not going to be a party.”

“Awe, party poopers,” he responded disappointed.

“Well, we could use you,” Donna said. “We could use your theme expertise.”

“What about me?!” Jackie said. “I have a good taste!”

“Fine, Jackie and Fez can work together,” Y/n said, exhausted already.

“Yay!” Jackie cheered, clapping her hands. “Oh, Fez we have so much to go over!”

“While this is going on, me and the boys will be at the bar,” Steven smirked and continued eating his food.

“Can you guys take Markus with you?” Jackie asked. “I’m trying to get him ‘in’ with the group.”

“Doesn’t he have any of his own friends?” Steven asked, annoyed.

“Duh, but I’d like him to get closer to you guys because I don’t like his friends,” she said candidly.

“Why not?” Y/n asked, grabbing for a strawberry.

“They’re just…eck,” she responded.

“What do you mean ‘eck’?” Eric asked.

“I mean…they’re weird!”

“Weirder than us?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, believe it or not!”

“Jackie, I don’t want to take my ex’s new boyfriend out on guy’s night,” Steven said. “It’s almost like returning to the scene of the crime.”

“No, it’s not!” she protested.

“I second what Hyde said,” Eric said, “It’s weird.”

“Ah, c’mon guys, please!” she begged. “I’d like for him to be here more often.”

“Then, he can just be here more often,” Donna said, pointing out the obvious.

“Alright, let’s go,” Red called out. “I want to get back to catch the Packer’s game.”

“But I want to talk about the party!” Fez whined.

“You want join in on some tooty frooty baby shower or do you want to get a house that has a roof and running water unlike the hut you came from?” Red threatened.

Fez’s eyes widened. “See ya.” He ran out the door to meet Red at the car.

--Time Skip—

“Are you Fenton?” Red asked as he walked into the empty apartment. In the middle of the room stood the familiar bald man with a mousy moustache. “I’m here to talk about the apartment.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Fenton responded, flamboyantly and smiled. “It’s still available. And F.Y.I so am I.”

Red scrunched his face at him. “Look, I have a wife.”

“And I have a football, but I never use it.”

“Red!” Kelso called out, storming into the room. “I know you told us to wait in the car, but Fez keep playing his bongo music!”

“It’s called jazz, you philistine!” Fez yelled, trailing behind him.

“Oh, you’re with him,” Fenton responded, unpleased. “Deals off. I gotta get to yoga.”

“Hey, can’t we talk about this?” Red asked.

“No,” he said shortly.

“See, I told you he was going to be—” Fez started, but was cut off by Red.

“Just shut it, or I’ll shut it for you!”

Fenton looked at Red, impressed and if he was being honest, maybe a little turned on. “Well, you just don't take crap from anyone, do you, Mr. Man?”

Kelso sighed. “I knew this was gonna be a waste of time. Come on, Fez. We'll go figure out some other place to live with the baby.” He and Fez walked out in a huff leaving Red and Fenton.

“Baby? No one mentioned they had a baby. That... that's so progressive,” Fenton said.

Red cocked an eyebrow at him. “Progressive?”

“Well, how can I not give the apartment to two men raising a child together?”

Red smiled, understanding what Fenton was implying. “Oh. Yeah, progressive. Yeah, that's what they are. They're as progressive as hell. Why, they're likenewlyweds."

“Mhm,” Fenton hummed. “I wish I knew what that was like. Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride.”

Red nodded. “Right. So, we got a deal?”

“Alright, fine, but they mess up once and they’re out of here.”

Red wanted to open his mouth, but chose to keep it shut. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

--Later in the basement—

“Guys, I can’t believe I graduate in a few months,” Jackie mentioned while the gang hung out. “I’ll finally become a woman!”

“Jackie, you became a woman the night you lost it to Kelso,” Y/n responded, leaning back against the couch. Her big belly now starting to cause her back pain and ankle pain.

“Man, I can’t believe I graduated a year ago,” Eric said. “Man, time really flies when you take two naps a day. I didn’t really do anything.”

“I don’t really think you…I mean you did do…man, you really sat on your ass,” Donna said, giving on trying to comfort her boyfriend.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Eric said glumly. “I mean, I got a letter from the contest and they think I have no artistic talent. You know, I’m starting to think that the cartoon academy of Fort Lauderdale isn’t legitimate.”

“Yeah? What gave it away?” Y/n deadpanned.

“Yep, Forman, we’ve all passed you by,” Hyde said smugly. “I’m running a record store. All the while banging your sister—”

“‘Banging?’” Y/n glared at her husband. “Don’t you mean ‘married?’ I mean, I’m even carrying your kids for God’s sake!”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said calmly and turned back to Eric. “I’m also hitched and about to have kids, Donna’s a deejay, Kelso’s a cop…even Fez has a job now. What’s it again, man? Shower girl? Makeup lady?”

“Shampoo boy!” Fez said loudly and shortly.

“Eh, I was close.”

“What did you being married to Y/n and her carrying your kids have anything to do with the conversation?” Eric asked.

Hyde shrugged. “Just another thing to rub in your face that I’m much further along than you.”

“Wait, so I’m the loser of the group now?” Eric asked, pointing to himself.

“I mean, you’re the one still living with your mommy,” Kelso said.

“Hey, I still live with my mommy,” Y/n said.

“Yeah, but you’re still married to someone who is successful,” Jackie said, leaning against the washing machine. Y/n furrowed her brows, not feeling any better. “Eric just stays home who’s mommy still cuts the crust off his sandwiches.”

Eric ignored Jackie and turned to Kelso. “Man, you’re still living with your mommy.”

“Not for long. Me and Fez are looking for an apartment and the only thing I’ll need my mom for is to do my cooking, laundry, and taking me to the dentist.”

“Well, Eric I feel kinda bad,” Jackie said. “You wouldn’t even be thinking of this kind of stuff if you hadn’t been caught in the brightness of my future.”

“You know what else is scary? If this year went by really fast, imagine where Eric will be in ten years,” Fez said.

Eric’s crappy future, ten years later…

The Vista Cruiser rolled into the Forman driveway in the late afternoon. Eric and Donna exited the car, dressed in Star Trek outfits, coming home from a convention. Eric wore the traditional fleet command uniform while Donna sported a black wig and red general commander dress.

“Thank you for coming to the Star Trek convention with me…Uhura.”

“You can call me Donna now,” she said displeased and walked into the house.

“That’s good, Fez,” Kelso said, coming back to present time. “But I think it’s going to be more like this…”

Eric’s crappy future, ten years from now…

The Vista Cruiser rolled into the Forman driveway in the late afternoon. Eric and Donna exited the car, dressed in Star Wars outfits, coming home from a convention. Eric dressed as Luke Skywalker and Donna dressed in the familiar gown and rolled side buns.

“Thank you for coming to the Star Wars convention…Leia,” Eric said proudly.

“You can call me Donna now,” she said and shuffled back into the house.

“No, you’re both wrong,” Hyde said, smirking. “It’ll be more like this…”

The Vista Cruiser once again rolled into the Forman driveway. The doors to the car opened, Eric jumping out and rounding the car.

“Thanks for coming to the convention with me…Leia,” he said.

Kitty got out of the car and walked over to Eric wearing Leia’s gown and her hair in the same style. She stared at him displeased. “You can call me Mom now.” She hurried inside, eager to get out of the itchy costume.

The gang laughed at Hyde’s theory, upsetting Eric.

“Whoa!” Eric screeched, jumping off the couch.

“They’re just joking around, Eric,” Donna said calmly. “It’s funny.”

“No, it’s not!” he defended, inching towards the stairs. “In fact,…it’s completely possible!” He bounded up the stairs, freaking out.

Y/n laughed and high-fived her husband. “Nice.”

A few moments later…

“All of my friends are on career paths. Even Kelso. Kelso! The kid who thinks N.A.T.O is Japanese for neato,” Eric ranted to his parents who sat in the kitchen. Red was reading the newspaper and Kitty was reading a magazine.

“You know it’s just not fair,” Red said, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “You sleep late, you watch TV all day…the job offers should be pouring in.”

“Why don’t you look into that chiropractic school I suggested?” Kitty asked. “They’re having an enrollment seminar. You know, being a chiropractor is a very prestigious job. Even if you move somewhere where there’s no real doctors.”

“Well, I guess chiropractor is as good as anything I've come up with. I have wasted an entire year doing absolutely nothing.”

“Hey, how bout a job stating the obvious?” Red asked, giving Eric a fake smile. “Because you’re really good at that!”

Later…

“So, you’re going to the school, huh?” Y/n asked as they once again gathered in the basement. This time, Markus had joined them who was sitting next to Jackie and Y/n on the couch, with his arm around her. “When do you start?”

“Well, they start Monday, so…probably then,” Eric responded sarcastically.

“Want me to come with you?” Donna asked.

“Wait, really?” Eric asked and turned to his girlfriend.

“Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”

“Awe, you’re such a good girlfriend,” Fez cooed before pretending to gag.

“What was that about?” Hyde asked, leaning back in his usual chair.

“All of you are in loving relationships and I’m over here more single than a freakin’ pringle,” he responded bitterly.

“Hey, I’m single too,” Kelso piped up from the lawn chair.

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’ll have a new girlfriend in, like, five minutes,” Fez replied and slumped on the couch. "I'm going to die alone."

"No, you're not,” Y/n comforted, rubbing his shoulder. “You’ll find someone.”

“Why are you lying?” Eric asked.

“Eric!”

“Yeah,” Jackie agreed with Eric. “He is one freaky, horny little dude.”

“Just ask the couch,” Hyde added in.

“I’m right here!” Fez whined. “Can’t even have the decency to wait until I walk out the room!”

“Jackie, what did we talk about comforting friends?” Markus asked, like he was talking to a toddler.

Jackie looked at the ground. “Don’t be mean.”

“And?”

Jackie rolled her eyes and sighed. “And if I can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

Markus nodded and looked up to everyone. “We’re working on talking nicely to others.”

“Wow,” Eric said amazed. “I like him. Can he stay?”

“Don’t listen to them, Fez,” Donna said. “They’re just being jerks.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Y/n said. “Why don’t one of us set you up?”

“How?” Fez asked. “Do you know anybody?”

“Wait, wait…you’re not going to set up a party with all women are you?” Hyde said. “Because that was annoying.”

“No, no. Something better than that,” Y/n said. “Donna, are there any single ladies at the radio station?”

“The only lady we have there is the receptionist and she’s eighty-eight years old,” she responded.

“Is she single?” Fez asked seriously.

“She’s a widow…does that count?”

“Hm, no,” he shook his head and sat back. “I don’t want to be second choice.”

“That’s what’s stopping you?” Eric asked. “Not the fact that she’s seventy years older than you?”

“Yeah, and you won’t be able to have sex without thinking she’s going to break a hip,” Kelso said. “Or a heart attack.”

“Okay, gross,” Y/n said. “Anyone else that knows a single girl?”

“Well, I mean there’s Simpson from the police academy,” Kelso said.

“No, we all know how that turned out,” Y/n said and turned to her husband. “Do you know anyone at the store?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Eric asked.

“Do you know anyone from staying at home all day?” his twin sassed. “Oh, yeah, you must’ve met someone at the Bum Factory.”

“Damn, did you have bitch flakes this morning?”

“Yeah, along with your sitting-on-your-ass-all-day scrambled eggs,” she snipped.

“Is this about what happened earlier?” Eric asked. “I already said I was sorry!”

“What else would it be?!”

“What happened earlier?” Hyde asked, scrunching his eyebrows together.

“Your idiot brother-in-law happened!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Eric argued.

“If it wasn’t, then I wouldn’t be pissed!”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“Will you two shut up and just tell us what happened?” Hyde snapped. “I need to know if it’s funny so I can make fun of you or kick your ass. It depends.”

“It was just a slice of cake!” Eric said, turning his attention back to Y/n.

“The last slice!” she cried out.

“Just go buy a cake,” Jackie said calmly. “What’s so special about this one?”

“My mom made it! And no one else can make it as good as she can!” Y/n said.

“She probably puts kalua in it,” Jackie said. “She taught me how to make fudge once, and she said kalua was the secret recipe. That’s when I learned that she may have a bit of a drinking problem.”

“Shut up, Jackie. You’re not making it any better,” Y/n said angrily.

“Well, damn. Pregnancy has made you bitchier than before,” Jackie said and got up from the couch to grab a popsicle.

“I’m sure she’ll make it again,” Donna said. “If you ask her nicely, I bet she will.”

“No,” Y/n whined and leaned her head against the headrest of the couch. “I want it now.”

“God, you’re needy,” Eric said. “When are you going to stop?”

“When I get some damn chocolate!” she replied.

“Okay, would it be better if I ran to the store and got you something similar?” Hyde offered. “Anything to make you happy so you can stop whining?”

“I second that,” Eric said.

“No, Eric should go buy it for me,” she pouted. “He’s the one that ate my cake. And he should buy me Fatso Burger because I’m hungry. I’ll call it square then.”

“But I don’t have any money!” he whined.

“That sounds like a you problem,” Y/n said. “Want me to quit being needy? Get me food.”

“Well, why don’t you borrow money from Hyde?” Kelso asked, ignoring the fact that Hyde was moving his hand sharply against his throat, saying to stop. Talking. “Hyde has a lot of it!”

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at Kelso. “Steven and I don’t have a lot of money.”

“Of course, he does!” he continued, still ignoring Hyde as he was now waving his hands.

Y/n looked behind her and Steven stopped quickly, pretending he was just as confused.

“Steven, what’s he talking about?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he replied. He glared at Kelso through his aviators and when his wife turned back around, he mouthed: Shut. Up.

“Yes, you do!” Kelso said. At this point he was amused and continued. “You’ve been telling me that you’ve been stashing money in your secret savings.”

“In your what?!” Y/n screeched.

“No, no, Kelso doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Hyde defended. “He’s talking nonsense from his concussion.”

Kelso scrunched his eyebrows together. “I don’t have a concu—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Hyde threw a soda can at his head. It flew across the room at an impressive speed and smacked Kelso right in the face. No one moved as it was a day-to-day occurrence. At this point, even Markus was desensitized.

“Ow, my eye!” Kelso yelled, dropping to the floor.

“Wow, that was incredibly fast,” Donna said.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Jackie commented, covering her mouth with her fist.

“Hyde, you jerk!” Kelso yelled, stumbling back up to his feet. “I’m going to have a black eye and picture day at the academy is tomorrow!”

“First off: Kelso, here,” Y/n said and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and tossed it across the room. It thumped against his chest before he caught it and pressed it against his face. “And now you,” she growled at her husband. “A secret savings?! Are you kidding me?!”

“It’s not so much of a secret savings as—” he started, now standing from his seat but was interrupted.

“How much is in it?” she asked, her eyes burning a hole in his head.

“Not much,” he replied. “And it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?!” she yelled, angrier than before. “You’re hiding money from me!”

“Actually, you said you have about two grand—” Kelso began but was cut off by Hyde.

“Do you want me to blacken the other eye?!” he barked at him.

“Two thousand dollars?!” Y/n screamed. “I can’t believe this! Do you have any idea what we can do with that money?”

“Yes, that’s why it’s in there!” Hyde yelled back.

“Now, does this happen every day?” Markus whispered to Jackie.

“No…no this is not,” she whispered back.

“What do you mean that’s why it’s in there?!” Y/n asked, bringing everyone’s attention back on them. “Why are you hiding it from me?!”

“Because of…reasons,” Hyde said.

“Reasons like what?! You don’t trust me?”

“No, I don’t!” he yelled back.

"The air in the room dropped. It was like it was sucked out, leaving everyone completely breathless. Y/n felt like she had been punched in the gut.

She was so hurt and angry that she couldn’t speak. She stared at him as the silence grew louder. He refused to break eye contact with her, but his body language—turned halfway away from her and his hands on his hips—said he regretted what he told her.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n finally broke eye contact and stomped her way upstairs without saying another word. After a minute of still silence, Markus decided to speak up.

“So…what else do you guys do for fun?”

“And this is where we’ve talked about speaking in awkward moments,” Jackie said from the corner of her mouth.

Fez sat there, frowning. "Are we supposed to just forget about my problem?!”

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch

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writingshushf1 · 1 year

Text

Lover - chapter 3

Summary: the next 4 minutes have decided your whole life.

Rating: +16

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, intimacy (but not sex)

Word count: 3.5k

Note: hey! sorry for not updating, I moved, uni started so I was basically studying, eating and sleeping, now that I adjusted into my routine- IT’S BACKKK! i hope yall enjoy it! don’t be a ghost reader! (also available on AO3.)

masterlist

(BEGINNING OF) JULY, 2024.

It’s been 6 weeks that you and Mick haven’t seen each other, it was the start of the break of the season, so he would be around a month with you. It meant you could actually talk to him about what happened between you two. That week, you scheduled a doctor’s appointment to know the sex of the baby, so then you would transform your office into a nursery.

The german would be back in a tuesday, so you made sure your appointment was going to be after that, to at least give the chance of him deciding whether he wanted or not to be in. It was a week after the ideal time to see the gender? Yes, but you didn’t actually care, probably on the last ultrasound, the doctor saw it’s sex, but you told him you didn’t want to know yet, because you were waiting for your friend to be back from his work trip and he was one of the most important people in your life. Seb also came to Monaco with Hanna, both of them wanted to be there for you, like your parental figure and you loved the idea, Mick even offered his spare room so they wouldn’t need to go to a hotel.

After a few hours on Tuesday, he messaged you after arriving at his apartment, although you wanted him to invite you, maybe it wasn’t the moment yet, to see him and act like nothing happened. You were working, thank God they still wanted you - at least until the baby was born, so all the paperwork you were avoiding last week now needed to be sent and approved by your boss. Everything was making you stressed, so you stopped for a while and layed on your bed, putting your hands on your bump and feeling little movements, still very subtle, if you weren’t alone, you wouldn’t be able to feel it; in two weeks others would be able to feel them kicking, because it would be stronger. Out of the blue, you heard your phone ringing, so you picked up to see Mick’s number.

“Hi…” You said softly.

“Hey… I… Can you come over? I’m feeling a bit lonely and Seb will arrive in the middle of the night, so I would love to have someone keeping me up.”

“Why will he arrive in the middle of the night and not during the morning?”

“Oh, the flight had problems, so they cancelled it and got an earlier flight, because the other available he wouldn’t be able to arrive on time for the appointment.”

“I’m going, give me 5 minutes.”

When you arrived, the door was already open and an anxious Mick was waiting for you, he looked at your belly, impressed by how big it was and then at your boobs, blatantly staring at them until you were too close for him to disguise. He hugged you gently, kissing your forehead.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You looked at each other for a few seconds before getting in and sitting on the sofa together. He let you lay your head on his lap, while you stayed in silence for a couple of minutes and the sound of the tv filled the space.

“Your bump is so big.”

“I know, right? 22 weeks.”

“Already? God, we’ve known each other for that long?”

“15 weeks, which would be almost four months, yeah.”

“I don’t know, it looks like we’ve always known each other.”

“Yeah… I don’t know, Micki, maybe we just clicked.”

You turned on your side, watching the random tv show, you felt his hands run through your scalp, caressing it; the affection was making you sleepy, even starting to softly snore. You heard him laughing at you.

“Sorry, I’m always tired and every chance I get to nap, I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay… I know you get tired because of the baby, but it was a bit funny that you just fell asleep within minutes.”

You laughed and looked at him again, sitting up dangerously close to him. One of Mick’s arms was around your waist, while the other was on top of his leg, almost on yours; slowly your hands were up his chest, with your face almost touching each other. You shouldn’t be doing this, it wasn’t the time, on the other hand, he was there for you, always. When you were about to kiss, his alarm rang, so you backed off from one another and he saw the time.

“We should get going to the airport, Seb and Hanna will arrive soon.” He said, getting up.

Frustration ran through your body, but you ignored, also getting up and walking behind him towards the garage from the building. You were feeling cold because you forgot your coat at your house, because when Mick messaged you, the last thought was going to get something to make you warm, he normally did that. The blonde noticed you shivering - even if it was summer, Monaco at night could be chilly, seconds later he was giving his coat to you and you felt drunk with his perfume exhaling from the jacket.

The ride till the airport was nice, mostly quiet, a consequence from your actions earlier - and you were napping for a part of it. He woke you up by lightly tapping on your shoulder, which initially you turned your body to the other side, then he tapped again, starting to talk about how you two would be late to see Sebastian, that made you wake up instantly. You waited for an hour till they arrived, the couple looking very tired, but that didn’t stop them from hugging both of you.

“Your bump is so big, honey!” Hanna said, touching it. “You said it was 22 weeks, right? Wow.” She smiled. “I know you weren’t into it in the beginning, but you do look beautiful, the pregnancy glow is working very well for you.”

“Right? The only thing I have to do regularly is to put lotion on my bump because it’s growing too fast and it’s stretching the skin.”

“That’s normal, I’ve been there three times.”

“Let’s go, girls?” Seb intervened. “I’m very tired and you two must be too.”

The ride to Schumacher’s apartment was silent, you let Sebastian sit on the passenger seat, so you and Hanna were in the back. Most of the trip you were sleeping, so was the blonde woman. Mick felt bad to wake you up, because he knew you waited on your feet for the German couple, so he took you into his arms and left you in his bed, taking off your shoes and the jacket, covering your body with a blanket before he showed the others where they would be staying. After they were settled, he put his pyjama - which consisted in only wearing boxer shorts, and laid next to you, however, he didn’t touched your body, seeing that your bump was big and he was afraid of hurting it; although, a few minutes later you were somewhat hugging his body as a result of not having your pregnancy pillow with you; the blonde liked that and tried to stay in the same position to not bother you.

It was 9am and you were up, in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone. Schumacher smelled the pancakes and walked in, still with his sleepy face.

“Good morning…” He smiled, putting his hands on your waist, laying his head on your shoulder. “Do you need any help?”

“Uhm… Yeah, wash the fruits, get the syrup and the honey, make the table…” You said, flipping a pancake.

“Ok. Coffee, tea and juice?”

“Yeah.”

You two were doing the breakfast when the German couple walked in, looking Mick and you together, talking and cooking together.

“They look like us when we were younger.” Hanna whispered.

“Yeah, they do.” Seb kissed his wife's forehead. “They look good together.”

Then you noticed their presence, blushing a little and pretending they didn’t see how you two were acting to each other. The four of you sat down to eat. Mick and Sebastian were talking while you concentrated on eating, considering you were doing that for two instead of one.

….................................................

It was the time for the ultrasound and you were there waiting with the other three for the doctor to start.

“Do you have any guesses on the baby’s sex?” The doctor asked.

“No. Not at all, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that, being completely honest.” You said, looking at Mick, hoping he would say something.

“No one else?”

“I think it’s going to be a girl.” Seb said to support you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Maybe a boy.” Hanna added.

“Let’s see if the… The patient's parents are right.”

Vettel didn’t correct the doctor, even though you weren’t father-daughter, he knew you would need some figure to be there and you internally thanked him for that. You couldn’t pay attention on the images, because all that was passing through your head was the image of a happy family, where Sebastian and Hanna were the future grandparents - or almost that, waiting for the result, while the dad of this kid was also there to be by your side, which it would be Mick. You noticed that the younger blonde was squeezing his hands together like he was holding himself from being closer to you.

Schumacher’s head was restless, all of his thoughts were running around at once, making him distracted from what was happening during the appointment. Fidgeting his hands to not get closer, looking around to not get nervous and if someone entered the room, they would’ve bet he was the father just from his actions.

“So…” The deep voice from the doctor awakened Mick from his trance. “It’s a girl! Congrats.”

“I knew it!” Vettel smiled, kissing your head. “You need to think about names! I had an idea for her room.”

"You always knows! It's not fair." You said to him. Vettel had guessed all of his kids when Hanna was pregnant.

“Congrats, schatz!” Hanna also walked to be by your side.

The younger German smiled, secretly holding your hand. “I would love to see a mini you running around.” He whispered.

Later that night, you and Hanna were making dinner while the boys were adjusting the nursery for the baby. You often walked there, to see them dirty with paint, talking in German and laughing. This was a night that you never thought would happen. On the other hand, you were so happy that it was, having them being there for you when you need the most, being this “non” conventional family that it’s better than you’ve ever asked for. When dinner was ready they changed their outfits to not stain the house with the paint. The four of you sat on the table, mostly filling the silence with small talks while you appreciated the delicious lasagna that Hanna made.

“I thought about a name…” You said, having the three pairs of eyes on you after that.

“Do tell!” Mick looked at you, curious.

“Okay… I liked the name Sophia. Is it a common name? Yes, but it’s pretty…” You took a sip of your juice.

“It’s a beautiful name.” Sebastian smiled.

“I think this should be the one.” Hanna completed.

“You sure?”

“Of course! It’s beautiful and… It's just… Clicks, you know?” Schumacher looked at you, his piercing blue eyes could see you through.

After the dinner, the boys offered to clean the kitchen, so you two went to the balcony to relax, no conversation needed. You loved that, the fact that Hanna became your second mom and was supporting you in this journey, the way she knows you to the core and tries to be a sort of grandma/auntie to the baby - now with a name to call, Sophia, that would probably get called Sophie as a nickname. She looked at you sometimes, smiling and taking a sip from her drink, maybe she was proud of you.

An hour later, you were back to Mick’s apartment since the German couple was staying there and you were asleep in no time again, but this time in his room. Sebastian and Hanna were in the spare bedroom, getting ready to sleep and the younger blonde? On his balcony, making a phone call.

“Mama. Hey.” He smiled. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, lieb.”

“Seb and Hanna are here! I think you knew, right?”

“Yes, of course! How are things going? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine! Really good time.” He looked at the streets, emptier than usual.

“And your friend? Does she know the sex of the baby?”

“It’s a girl… Seb somehow got it right.”

“Oh! Say that I’m happy for her.” She laughed. “He always does, Mickey.”

“Yeah… It’s going to be Sophia.” His tone was vague, like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.

“You want to talk about something, don’t you?” She knew him all too well. “When you’re not focused that means you want to talk about something.”

“Well… I’m in love with her.” He confessed, sighing out loud, which called Vettel’s attention while he was going to grab a bottle of water, then he stayed to see what Mick was saying. “But she’s…”

“Pregnant with someone else’s child. Yeah, schatz, it’s somewhat complicated, but not the worst.” She said “You should follow your heart, okay? Your dad would say that to you too.”

“I know, mama, I know.” He sniffled. “It’s hard, people judging that I’m taking a big responsibility into the growth of my career.”

“It is hard, it’s a child that we’re talking about and you're young, however… You should do whatever feels best to both of you, or better… The three of you.”

“I’ll, I promise.”

“And remember what your papa always said, private is private.”

“Yes, you know I follow this as much as I can.”

“By the way, come to visit us! I’m missing my baby boy.” She laughed and so did he. “And bring the girl, I wanna meet her. To see if she’s worth it.”

“Mama!”

“Just to make sure, sohn.”

“Okay. Danke, Mama.'' He smiled. “See you soon.”

Then Sebastian appeared on the balcony, scaring Mick.

“Sorry, I heard a part of your phone call with your mom, I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s okay, really… I would love an uncle Seb moment right now.”

The older German hugged him, running his fingers through the youngest’s hair while he breathed calmly, enjoying the comfort.

“It still hurts a little when she mentions dad.”

“Oh, liebling, it must suck sometimes… But she knows about things, that’s why she says it.”

“I know, I know.” He looked at his mentor. “Changing the subject before I start to cry… Mom said I should go and see them and bring… You know who, with me.”

“Really? Did Corinna listen to me? I’m flattered.” He chuckled.

“You gave the idea to her?”

“Maybe I did.” Vettel's unforgettable cocky smile was appearing.

“Why?”

“You admitted to her and yourself. You’re in love. You want her to be part of your family, then why not introduce her to them?”

“What if they don’t like her?”

“They will, I know they’ll.”

“But if she doesn’t want to go?”

“I’m sure she does want to meet your family because it is an important thing for you and she would do everything for your happiness.”

“And I would do the same for her.”

“See? You’re on the same page, but refuse to admit that to each other!”

“It’s because of the baby.”

“I know, on the other hand, does it really matter? She won’t go to the father of Sophie for anything, that means she’s single and obviously wants you. Maybe if you do think it’s better and can handle it, you can wait till the baby is born to start something and if you won’t go to try something, both of you will regret that.”

“I know… I hate that I know all of this but the courage doesn’t seem to get into my head.”

“It’s okay, you can go slowly, but always make sure to have conversation, that’s the most important thing you could ever have.”

“Thank you, Seb.” He breathed out, like a heavy weight was lifted off from his shoulders. “I needed a sign to come back to reality.”

“I will always help you and try to guide you to the best decisions.”

“That’s what a mentor does!”

They chuckled and walked to their respective bedrooms. Meanwhile, you woke up from the noise that Mick made when he entered the room, sitting on the bed and waiting for him to get into his pyjamas and lay on the bed.

“Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay…” You felt the baby move. “Actually, do you want to try to feel the baby moving?”

“Oh.” He was taken by surprise with your idea. “Yes, totally. Can I feel it, already?”

“You? Barely, I can feel it more, however, we can put our hands on my bump and wait. Also we can talk to her in hopes that she will move to the sound of our voices.”

He sat behind you, letting your back against his chest and laying his hands on the top of your belly after you rolled your shirt enough to show the bump.

“From which week can I feel it? Like, actually feel it?”

“Week 24. In two weeks.”

“Wow, it’s close.”

“Yeah.”

Both of you set your hands on your bump, slowly caressing and talking in a lower and softer spoken tone, so that the baby could listen - from this week, the baby can hear the parent’s voice. It was an intimate moment that would never do with him unless both of you were deeply in love. That was showing to Mick more obvious signs that both were on the same page, which let him be more sure of what he was going to ask next.

“Go to Switzerland with me. Let’s spend a week or so there, meet my family, spend time together where there won't be any cameras or people surrounding us with questions.”

You stayed quiet for a while, it was a big information to deal with.

“So…?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure… I was just concentrating on Sophie.” Then she moved abruptly. “Wow, that was a big move, little girl, too early for that.”

“Maybe she agrees with my offer.”

“Shut up, Mick.” You laughed, moving his hands around for him to feel it still moving.

….........................................................

During the morning, Sebastian woke you up to go shopping for the baby nursery related things, he was more excited than you were, which was the cutest thing to watch. You two were walking down the store hall, looking through cribs.

“You’re going to be her godfather, right? And Hanna, her godmother.”

“Is this a request or an order?”

“Both?”

He laughed, getting closer and stopping at a colourful crib and looking at it.

“I will.” He smiled. “Everything for you.”

“Good! Maybe she’ll call you Opa.”

“I’ll love that.”

You kept looking at things for the whole morning, buying a crib, outfits, decoration, more paint and some cloth diapers. The choice for the style of the room was rainbows, sunshine and rain, like summer. Mick and Hanna got scared on how many things you have bought for the room, they didn’t let you do any effort, just sit and see the room gaining life. When the room was finished it made you cry, it was beautiful, the love put on that little room was overbearing.

“We should put paint in our hands and put it on the front of the door.” You said. “I want this memory to be part of Sophie’s life.”

You had five different paint colours, so everyone could have one. You chose purple, Mick chose red, Sebastian chose green and Hanna chose yellow, probably in the future you would do her hand in blue.

“When it dries, I will write our names below.”

Later that day, you and Mick took the German couple back to the airport, they needed to be back at home for the kids. You cried again, because you weren’t going to see them anytime soon, so the moment was emotional.

The ride back was silent, none of you wanted to say a word, however, it was okay, the silence was comfortable. You went to his apartment, the paint was still wet and the smell made you feel a bit sick, so of course he would let you crash at his place for the night. Both of you sat on the sofa, now alone, no conversations going around, just you.

“We need to talk.” Schumacher said, fidgeting with his hands.

“We do.”

“Can I start?”

“Sure.”

“So…” He sighed. “My feelings lately have been bothering me, because they’re too much. When I met you, I thought I had a new friend that found out that was pregnant and I would be the annoying uncle… However, things haven’t worked well. I developed feelings, big ones and I tried to suppress them, because Sophia is someone else’s and I couldn’t take this place and you were… And is currently overwhelmed by everything changing so fast. But we kissed, made out and it felt amazing. I was caught up in this, Max even mocked me for it. And again, we set it out as a friendship, when we clearly are more than this. We sleep on the same bed, cuddle, you put my hands into your bump to feel her. I am confused about everything, because… I want to be yours, but I know that maybe you won’t be ready for it.”

You stood there, his words were like a sharp knife cutting into your chest, you didn’t know how hurt he was. He breathed out, chuckling and sobbing at the same time, looking down.

“You don’t feel the same, right?”

That took you out of your trance.

“Hey! Hey! Calm down… I disassociated, this was a big confession…” You held his face. “I have one to make it too.”

“Please, say it.”

“I also feel the same. It’s more than a friendship. I didn’t want to drag you with me because I knew that you would go all down for being a father figure and I don’t want that. You have a bright future and it’s too early for that, especially when you’re not the biological dad.” You felt tears falling off your face. “And what will people say about you? I’m worried about that too.”

“I don’t care about them, schatz.”

“But I do.” He wiped your tears off. “I like you and want what’s best for you only.”

“The best for me is to be with you, if you want to.”

It took you a few seconds to answer him.

“I do.” Both of you breathed out at the same time, like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “We can go slowly, only making it official after Sophie’s birth, okay? Avoid telling anyone other than our family and closest friends. Right now, we don’t have an official label, we’re getting to know each other, is that good for you?”

“If this means that I can kiss you, I’m fine with it.”

He got closer to you, closing the gap between your lips; the kiss was salty due to the tears that fell from your face, it was slow and tender, like he was afraid to step in too much.

“We could take a shower together.” You suggested.

“For someone that wants to take it slowly, this is…”

“It’s not sexual! Oh God, you’re so horny.”

“Always, babe, always.”

You laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“It’s to create a bond, intimacy between us. When I’m in labour, you will see my body, so you should get used to it. Probably you will help me to shower and I’ll always be messy in the postpartum period, those times will be the hardest and it will probably be after the season is over, so you will be home to experience everything.”

“Okay… Let’s go then.”

You got your pyjamas and towels, going to the big bathroom. The undressing was awkward, none of you wanted to stare at the other, like it was a crime to do it. He turned on the shower, walking in with you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He hugged you from behind, bringing your body into the hot water. “Let me take care of you.”

Then he took the shampoo, putting on your hair and massaging the scalp slowly, leaving a trail of kisses in your shoulder. After he washed out, Mick put conditioner on your hair, carefully passing through your strands, while you relaxed with the attention. Soon, he grabbed the washcloth, putting the soap on it and passed through your bump, then shoulders, back, and legs, not getting close into parts of your body he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.After the relaxing shower, when you were just wearing panties, he walked with you to the front of the mirror, grabbing a moisturiser and staying behind you.

“I remember you talking with Hanna, about having to put lotion because the skin is stretching.” He put the mixture into his palms, soon with them in your belly, moving around carefully. “I researched about it. Looked some tips and bought this one for you, it said it could help with it.”

“Oh...” Your heart melted with his softness. “Thank you, Schumi.”

“No need to thank me, it’s a treat for you that I’ve been saving it.”

Later, both of you were laying on his bed, cuddling while watching a movie, when he broke the silence.

“So… Are we going to Switzerland then?”

“Of course. I know how important it is to you.”

“Then I’ll get everything ready for us.”

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x you

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kaiwewi · 1 year

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Sharing is Caring #2

[Masterlist: Sharing is Caring] [Part 1]

Synopsis: a few days after the last incident, Hero is missing time again. And someone has left them a message.

Hero was ripped from their slumber by the obnoxious beeping of their smartphone’s alarm clock.

Disoriented, they snatched the phone from the bedside table and fumbled for the mute button.

Why the hell was the alarm going off in the first place? They didn’t have any lectures for another two weeks. No appointments. No reasons whatsoever to cut their resting time short. There was no way they’d set this alarm. The damn thing had to be broken.

A terrible sense of déjà vu settled like something heavy on their chest.

No. No, no, no. Please, not again.

They squinted at the screen: 8 am. Tuesday, January 17th.

Fuck.

Another three days lost. An entire weekend plus Monday, gone.

They couldn’t breathe. They scrambled out of bed, started pacing, wrenched open the window. It didn’t help. Nothing would help. The world was spinning, blurring. Faster. Nauseating.

Oh god. What was going on? What was happening to them?

They really had to call someone. They had to make sure—

A soft breeze blew in through the open window and stirred a few stray sheets of paper sitting in the middle of their desk. Hero just so managed to slam their hand down on top of them before the wind could fully lift the sheets off the wooden surface.

The looked down to inspect the writing on the uppermost paper. The words peeking out from between their fingers were written in an elegant yet unfamiliar hand.

It appeared to be a letter. A letter addressed to them.

~~~

Saturday, January 14th

Dear Hero

How very astute of you to finally notice you’re missing time. And it took you only five skipped days to figure it out; I am truly impressed. (Yes, that is sarcasm, in case you cannot tell. Imagine me rolling my eyes. Well, our eyes.)

Said missing time? – Do not fret: I spent it for us. Productively, I might add.

The first time I took possession of this body, I got to spent two quiet days familiarising myself with our physical condition and our immediate environment. (I strongly suggest a change in diet. I suspect we might be lactose-intolerant.)

The second time my consciousness surfaced, I had another three days that I invested primarily into studying you and your life.

In other words: I read your diary. I’m sure you’ll recognise the necessity of such a transgression, given our current circumstances. (Though, I do confess to a certain delight in skimming through the journal, reading about your insignificant worries and secrets. Quite delightful, the idea that the great hero at the core is no higher or lesser a person than the next university student…)

As for your most recent entries… although it might have brought me great satisfaction to further observe your bewilderment over those ‘blackouts’ and ‘memory gaps’, I think it prudent to introduce myself before you ‘freak out’ and get the two of us locked up in a mental institution. (I’d rather we wouldn’t be put into a straitjacket, thank you very much!)

Don’t worry, you are not ‘bonkers’ or ‘totally going nuts’.

I can assure you: I am quite real.

Best regards, Your Brain-Cell-Mate <3

PS: Your penmanship leaves room for improvement.

PPS: I threw out your fast food and went grocery shopping. Once you take over our body again, please do make use of the healthier alternatives I’ve stocked up on.

~~~

Hero read the letter four times in total silence.

Then they went into the kitchen and opened the fridge to assess the damage. – The rest of last week's cake was gone. So were the leftover pizza and the convenience store lasagna. In their place, Hero found a bowl of potato salad, a bunch of carrots, smoked salmon, a glass of pickles, a few smoothies, whole-grain bread, and two packs of feta cheese. Even their favourite yogurt had been replaced with quark.

Well, screw therapists; they should call an exorcist.

They were possessed. By a pretentious health-freak demon.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in their throat.

This was the worst moment ever to not have chocolate around.

[Part 3]

———

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

#snippet #writing snippet #heroes and villains #hero/villain #writing #my writing #creative writing #fiction #writers #writers on Tumblr #writeblr #body sharing #sharing a body #Sharing is Caring #so look forward to:#hero x villain #villain x hero #enemies to friends

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moonshotsx · 1 year

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hibiscus' bloom - sashnetra (flower shop au)

it's (almost) tattoo time! you can see the sketch for sasha's tattoo here 💕

spot a little cameo from a few known faces 👀

The ring of the bell attached to the tattoo shop door echoed in the entrance as Sasha walked in.

It looked much more realized now that a few weeks had passed since she last went inside. The vibe certainly reflected Anetra now more than ever.

They had been in the talks for Sasha possibly getting her first tattoo done in the shop and Anetra seemed ecstatic at the idea.

That's how Sasha found herself in the parlor on a sunny Thursday morning while Marcia took care of the flower shop for her.

She looked around trying to find a familiar face, but she was met with a blonde tattooed woman around her age at the register talking to what Sasha assumed to be twins.

"Alright, girls. So the appointment is set for next Tuesday at 4PM, is that good? How exciting, first tattoos are always unforgettable".

"Oh yeah!" the redheaded twin let out immediately, earning a slight elbow jab by her sister, "Ow! Oh, I mean, sure, that's totally cool with us".

"Okay, then, let me put it down in the calendar so that I can remember it," the tattoo artist said before looking up and directing her attention to Sasha, "Hey there! I'm Loosey, how can I help you?"

"I have a consultation appointment with Anetra? I'm not sure if she put it down, but we talked over the phone about it," Sasha replied, suddenly aware she hadn't reminded Anetra about her visit in the last few days.

"She's in the back, doing some inventory, I think?" Loosey replied before excusing herself to the twins she was talking to and disappearing into one of the hallway doors.

Sasha waited in her spot, occasionally listening in to the two younger girls bickering.

"Oh. My. God. Spice! You were so staring at her tits just now," the blonde teased her twin, who now sported blushed cheeks that matched her hair.

"I was not!" Spice said with a huff, "You're imagining things again, Sugar".

"Did you think sunglasses were stopping her from seeing you staring at her?"

"As if you weren't looking at that person with the alien pin earlier at the coffee shop!"

"I was not staring at Irene!" Sugar crossed her arms and turned her head to the side.

"I know you weren't staring at that ugly decor for 5 minutes straight"

"Mind your business!"

"You started it!"

Before their little argument could continue, Loosey came back in.

"Sasha, feel free to go bother Anetra, she's ready to have you," she said as she returned to the spot behind the desk, "Third door on the right!"

Sasha quickly thanked her, sparing a glance to the two twins - she wondered if she was going to see them again.

The rich purple tones of the entrance area continued down the hall of different tattoo areas, more artwork and plants adorned the place.

She knocked at the door Loosey had directed her to. She could hear a faint 'Door's open. Come on in!' from the other side.

Sasha excused herself as she entered, finding Anetra hunched over her tablet as she warmed up with some sketches.

"Hey," Anetra's face lit up as soon as she saw Sasha walk in, "Sorry I wasn't at the desk to greet you, lost track of time while doing the inventory".

"It's no big deal, if anything, I should have sent a text before in case you had forgotten about our appointment," Sasha replied as she set down her bag on the floor next to Anetra's desk.

"It's not like I could ever forget an appointment with you," Anetra muttered, but Sasha wasn't able to catch what she had said.

"What was that?"

"Uh, I said, this is your first tattoo, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got to say I'm a bit nervous".

Anetra reached to rest her hand over Sasha's to give her an encouraging squeeze, "It's alright to be nervous, I still get nervous before a tattoo, and I do this for a job," she chuckled, "So, what were you thinking for the base idea?"

"Well, growing up in Hawaii, I've loved seeing the wild hibiscus flowers there. One always managed to end up in my hair!"

As Sasha started to describe her idea and meaning behind the tattoo, Anetra couldn't bring herself to interrupt her in any way. The way her eyes almost sparkled at the memories she was recollecting.

Not to mention how beautiful her smile was when it was genuine.

"Then, as I went along with my transition, it also started to also symbolize that part of my journey. You know, embracing my identity as a woman and just the joy and love I feel living life the way I want," she continued, feeling herself get a bit emotional as she bare her thoughts out.

"That's such a beautiful way to put it, Sasha," Anetra leaned over to give the older woman a side hug, "I really hope I can make justice to such an amazing meaning".

Sasha thanked with a soft smile, "I'm sure you will. I trust you and your vision completely".

Anetra started to look for photo references online before going back to ask more questions about how Sasha was picturing her tattoo.

"Did you want it to be in color? Or black and white? I don't mind either style," the brunette asked without looking up from the iPad.

"I think I might prefer it to be in black and white?" Sasha thought it over as Anetra kept sketching, "Yes, I think that would be nice!"

Sasha let Anetra sketch in silence for another five minutes, admiring her concentration.

She took the time to study Anetra's features more attentively.

There was something so intriguing about the tattoo artist.

Sasha prided herself in being a good judge of character and, despite their interactions had been limited due to both of their busy schedules, she could tell Anetra was a gentle soul.

A soul she so desperately wanted to know more of.

Sometimes she felt like their paths had crossed for a reason, and she couldn't wait to see how it would turn out.

"Okay, this is a bit of a messy sketch, but I think we can start working from here. What do you think?"

Anetra turned around the iPad to show her design to Sasha.

The latter was completely speechless. It was exactly how she had envisioned it, "Oh my goodness," she managed to let out as she got a hold of the sketch.

"Like it?"

"Like it? I love it, this is... wow, it's perfect,"

Anetra's nervousness melted off at the sight of Sasha's bright smile, "I just wanted it to be already amazing even if it's just a sketch, you deserve only the best".

"Thank you, really. I mean it," Sasha put the iPad back on the desk before asking for a hug.

Anetra was more than welcome to give in at the request. She was happy she had done Sasha's idea justice.

"I can do a few revisions in time for our session. I would have loved to do it today, but I'm booked for a ten-hour piece later, and I want to take all the time I need to make sure your piece is perfect".

"Oh, it's no problem for me to wait," Sasha quickly added, not wanting Anetra to feel bad about the situation.

"How about... Are you free this Saturday afternoon?"

Sasha thought it over for a moment, "Yeah, on the weekends I keep the shop open until lunch, so I'm free the rest of the day".

"We are usually closed on the weekend, so it would be only us - that way we can take it slow and make sure you're as comfortable as you can be? Hey, I'll even order us food," Anetra cued in at the end, as if Sasha wasn't already sold on the idea.

"Sure, I'd love that. Saturday it is".

"See you then, Sash".

The two of them bid their goodbyes before Sasha made her way outside.

As she walked out of the studio, she couldn't stop the smile on her face.

Saturday couldn't come any faster.

#fic prompt #sashnetra #flower shop au

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

The Incident - a Malevolent one-shot for the zine, This Too Shall Pass

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground.

And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell,

AO3

Written for the Malevolent zine, @malevolent-fanzine

————

“Right,” says Arthur, settling at his desk. “Widow Morris on Thursday. Friday is the court date—that’s the big one, John. I want this guy going down.”

Agreed. People who hurt children were never going to get mercy from either of them.

“The Morris case, at least, won’t be difficult,” Arthur verbalizes. “I still think it’s just a squatter.”

I don’t. I just have a feeling about it.

“Fine, fine.” Arthur sips tea with his right hand. “We’ll go armed however you think is wise. Make a note.”

John writes in the appointment book with his left.

Arthur considers the rest of their Tuesday. “So what about—”

“Hey, guys?” Kayne whines out of nowhere, then suddenly speaks like a rocket without punctuation. “I’m busy and need a hand this is Lucy (short for Lucifer of course) and I got stuff to do (big boy god stuff) a meeting of biblical proportions don’t you know (oh wait you wouldn’t) so anyway do me the favor of keeping an eye on her bye!”

And then he drops a monster in the middle of the office and vanishes.

At least, John presumes he vanishes. John is a little distracted trying to make sure Arthur doesn’t die.

Down! Behind the desk! Fuck!

Fortunately, Arthur is not in one of his stubborn moods today, and obeys.

Lucy is a horrible thing, oil-slick black and just as shiny, the size of a large dog, and possessed of enormous blue eyes that do not fit her hideous face. She has a shark-teeth perma-smile, six prehensile arms (or legs?), and flexible stingers lining her spine all the way to the tip of her pointed tail.

John knows they’re stingers because Lucy likes to embed them in things.

All things.

Anything.

Within seconds of her landing between them and the door, she has layered the carpet, the desk, the chairs, and much of the ceiling in freaky, pulsing spines, which she then regrows at once so she can do it again.

Unfortunately, Lucy seems to be throwing a tantrum.

There’s neither rhyme nor reason for her actions. She does not let them go for the door; when they try, she swipes her tail and lines Arthur’s arm with stingers, which apparently burn.

“Fuck!” Arthur hisses, back behind the desk as John works to pull the stingers free.

John does not like how… dusky Arthur’s skin gets around each little hole, but at least he gets them all out.

Lucy rampages around the office. She storms the bathroom. She crashes the kitchen.

The window is right there! John howls at her.

She does not even try to leave.

By this point, John knows the only reason they’re alive is Lucy doesn’t actually want to kill them.

After about an hour and a half, Lucy wears herself out, curls up like a weird, hairless cat, and enters a fitful sleep in front of the door.

She twitches in her sleep as though dreaming.

“What the fuck?” moans Arthur.

Kayne returns seconds later.

“Aww, there there, there there,” he coos hideously, scooping her up while Arthur peers with John’s sight around the war-wounded desk. “You did so good? Yes you did, yes you did! Thanks, you two. I owe you. Bye!” And he’s gone again.

The place is wrecked.

Arthur is feverish.

Fuck, says John, which seems a good summation of it all.

They call it The Incident. It seems unwise to mention Kayne or Lucy by name.

Arthur doesn’t seem particularly… well? He’s pale, and his reaction time is just a pinch slow; but he seems otherwise sharp enough, and scoffs at John’s idea of going to a doctor.

“I’m fine, damn it,” he says when prompted. “We don’t have time, anyway.”

Widow Morris turns out to have a damned wraith in her attic, which requires digging through old, dusty trunks and some fairly clever workarounds to bind.

They’ve done this before, but when Arthur goes to free her in exchange for a request, he seems to pull a blank. “Help someday?” he says, which is vague as fuck, and John is pissed.

Arthur! The hell!

“Hn?”

The wraith takes the deal and leaves. Who knows what she made of it.

Widow Morris pays them and tells Arthur he’s looking peaky.

That wraith shit is going to come back to bite us, John warns. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I think… I think I need to go home,” says Arthur, and says not one more word until they do.

They haven’t had much time to fix the place. Arthur crunches through wreckage, curses as he trips over a stinger John missed in the carpet, and mutters his way into the smashed-up kitchen.

Arthur, you’re worrying me.

“One more day, John,” Arthur mumbles as he eats some cold canned soup. “Once we finish this court case, we’ll be good for a bit. We can rest. ‘S what we need. Rest.”

Sure, Arthur. John is unconvinced.

Arthur showers.

Arthur goes to bed.

John is very concerned.

The morning of the court case—three days after The Incident—begins bright and early with Arthur throwing up.

He simply turns to the side and heaves all over the floor until there’s nothing left.

The fuck! John says, deeply startled. Are you all right?

“Sure,” says Arthur lightly, as though that didn’t happen, and staggers like a drunk toward the bathroom.

Arthur. Arthur, stop, you’re about to hit the—

Arthur wakes face-first into the open bathroom door, hands uselessly stretched on either side.

He grunts.

What the fuck, Arthur?

“‘S fine,” Arthur mumbles, and feels for the shower.

John is disturbed at how damp and tacky Arthur’s pajamas are. He must have sweated all night. You have a bad fever.

Not that they have any way to know. The thermometer, of course, is smashed.

Arthur, you need a damn doctor.

“No time for doctor,” Arthur mumbles with precise elocution and caveman grammar, and steps in before the water is even warm.

Arthur?

No answer this time.

Also no singing, which is absolutely out of character.

Arthur, if you walk into court like this, we are going to blow our testimony, and that murderer will get away.

“Sure, sure,” says Arthur, and—leaving the water on—staggers toward the closet, soaking wet.

Uh, Arthur?

“Mm?”

You didn’t shave.

Arthur stumbles back in.

No, says John, taking the straight razor from Arthur’s shaking hand. Better let me do this today.

“Kay.”

Tilt your head. There you go.

Arthur doesn’t argue or push back or anything.

Apparently, it takes a horrible mystery illness to make him amenable. Figures.

Arthur, I really think we should call the prosecutor and let them know you’re ill. Maybe your testimony can be rescheduled.

Arthur does not reply.

It takes nearly twenty minutes to get him dressed, and it goes… poorly.

“How do I look?” says Arthur, his shirt sticking to his wet skin and buttoned entirely wrong, his tie a configuration definitely not listed in The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness and possibly a runic knot.

Okay, says John. Okay, this isn't great. Arthur, I don’t think this is going to work.

“Sure it is,” says Arthur, and then he passes out.

John doesn’t have a body to wince, but that thud shakes him, anyway.

Arthur?

John pats his face.

Nothing.

John smacks him hard.

Nothing.

This is no mere fever.

Fuck, John says.

If this is another coma, John doesn’t know what to do. Drag himself to the phone and dial the police? Sure—but he wouldn’t be able to speak.

And today’s court case will be a bust. That asshole will get away with literal murder, and that is…

The man hurt kids. This is unacceptable.

Don’t panic, John tells himself. Humans do this. They pass out when their bodies require resources for things other than consciousness. He’s going to wake up. Don’t panic. Don’t—

Bare feet come into view in front of Arthur’s face. Casual. Quiet. Filthy with what might be tar, but is just brown enough to make John think of blood.

“Oh, no, do panic, darling, very much do,” says the owner of the feet.

John is not particularly obedient, but he rockets into panic now. What? Why are you here? Go away!

Kayne does not, but crouches, studying Arthur like a fascinating bug. He grips Arthur’s hair to lift his head and drop it back down again, thud.

Hey!

“He is out for the count, isn’t he? My, my, my.” Lift, drop, thud.

Stop doing that!

“And here you have a court date, don't you? Dramatic! Terrible! Whatever shall you do?”

Go the fuck away.

“Oh, you want to go away from him?” Lift, drop, thud.

No! John thrusts his left hand beneath Arthur’s head.

“Not even to get his body for yourself? He wouldn’t suffer if you did it now! Wouldn’t even know it happened. He’d just float away (which is what he wants to do, anyway, though I know you’re not ready to tangle with that one), and maybe even end up with Faroe—and you’d be one step closer to whole.” Lift, drop—

Kayne allows John to catch Arthur’s head with a smack.

That seems pointed, somehow.

No!

“You sure? You could make the court date.” Lift, drop, smack.

At the cost of Arthur’s life? No!

“What if it wasn’t at the cost of his life?”

This time, Kayne doesn’t let go. He holds Arthur’s head by the hair, that fragile human neck bent, and John is suddenly very afraid what will happen to Arthur if he says no.

I… I’m listening.

“Good boy,” says Kayne, low and dangerous. “I’m bored, see? And this is an opportunity. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

An hour later, John walks Arthur’s body into the courtroom.

He hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet. Two legs instead of dozens of tentacles just doesn’t feel right, and balance is a whole thing, but there was no more time to practice.

He has a plan if anyone asks: something something out on a case, something something got beat up, something something doing just fine.

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” they ask him.

Well, John sure does, even if the only gods he knows he’s actively avoiding.

“Are you prepared to tell this court what you observed on the day in question?” says the prosecutor, and John goes off.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone off.

The prosecutor’s eyes are pretty damn big before John finishes his recollection.

So are the judge’s.

The jury looks fairly stunned, too.

John’s not sure what he did wrong. He just told them what happened. Everything he saw.

Everything that murderer did, including messing with evidence, which was the reason Arthur’s testimony matters so much.

What did he do worth staring at like this?

“Call for recess,” says the judge, and everybody takes a break.

John walks Arthur’s body to the men’s room.

Everyone else spoke in a measured, calm tone, as though this wasn’t a monster they were judging.

John was… passionate. Maybe shared some details humans would not (though the birthmark visible on the man’s dick seemed like important identification).

John has no regrets.

Next, he will be cross-examined, and he is ready.

He checks the tie (perfect).

He does the sniff test to ensure he didn’t sweat too much (soap and human, perfectly standard).

Teeth clean. Eyes clear. Hair -

Wait.

The eyes are not clear.

John leans in.

Arthur’s irises used to be brown; they have been gold since John took them, and it is a color John really likes—it’s damn near metallic, hardly a human tone. But now, there is something new.

Jagged black lines radiate out from the irises, as if Arthur’s eyes are broken glass.

“That’s not right,” John mutters in Arthur’s suave tenor.

“Looks fine to me,” says Kayne from one of the stalls, and (obnoxiously) flushes the toilet. He slams open the stall door and stalks over to lean on the sink, then (obnoxiously) doesn’t use it.

John doubts he needs to use it. He’s also certain Kayne has far worse than human effluvia on his hands. “What do you want?”

“You know, Arthur keeps surprising me?” says Kayne conversationally. “Not a clue why (which is a whole thing in itself), but he’s reacting to Lucy a lot faster than anticipated.”

Of course this goes back to The Incident. Of course it does. “What? Those fucking stingers? I got them all out!”

“Did you, though?”

John is very still.

“I had been calculating a couple of weeks before he would start showing, but yow. Those eyes, buddy. You ain’t convincing anybody on the stand with eyes like those, unless you were arguing for demon possession.” Kayne cackles. “Might get you a date, but not a conviction.”

John can feel Arthur’s heart pounding. He peers in the mirror again. “What is happening to Arthur’s body?”

“Don’t you know? It’s being taken over, darling. Little by little. Maybe your presence helped? Hurried it along? We’ll never know. Anyway, got to go! Ciao!” And he takes one step backwards and vanishes.

Oh.

Oh, this was not good.

Oh.

John peers again.

They’re expecting him back in the courtroom.

The other guy’s lawyer will definitely notice these eyes.

John won’t be able to make an excuse about a late-night excursion for this.

He has to protect Arthur.

But the court case…

Damn it.

John wants justice, but he wants Arthur safe far more.

He can hear them all walking down the hall, talking, laughing, ready to resume.

John climbs out the bathroom window.

Behind him, he thinks there are screams, but he tells himself his borrowed human brain made them up.

Back in their small apartment behind the office, John studies Arthur’s face in the cracked bathroom mirror.

Since he left the courthouse, the lines have grown darker, sharper-angled—and have begun to reach past his sclera and into the flesh of his face.

This is very bad.

He must have missed a stinger.

John strips and inspects himself. He can’t quite see Arthur’s back, so he rummages until he finds a shaving mirror.

And there, in the reflection, is a small, black dot between his kidneys.

A stinger. Shit.

If John is very still and doesn’t breathe, he can see it throbbing slightly, pumping something unknown into Arthur’s body.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” snaps John, and, using tweezers, manages to wriggle it out.

Yup. It’s one of Lucy’s spines, still pulsing, oozing a weird and nasty black.

How much of this is in Arthur? How the hell can he counteract it?

A witch. He needs a witch.

He doesn’t know any witches.

Not here, anyway.

The only witches John knows are back home—

He catches himself. Are back in the Dreamlands. Which isn’t home. This is.

Still, he needs a witch. “Damn it, Kayne,” he growls.

“What?” Kayne says from behind the shower curtain. “Can’t a guy take a relaxing bath in a stolen tub with expensive oils and fine wine and a severed head in peace while another guy in a stolen body pulls a baby chaos stinger out of his back with tweezers?”

John decides not to engage with that sentence. “I need a witch.”

Kayne scoffs. “You need more than that, darling.”

“This happened because we did you a favor,” John snarls.

“No, it happened because your human is a fucking klutz.” Kayne does something, and water splashes.

John hopes Kayne is not getting severed-head bits all over everything. He sighs. “Fine. I’ll find a witch on my own.”

“This should be good.”

John grabs Arthur’s clothes and exits the bathroom at a run.

John misses Arthur.

The human world is much less interesting without him to talk to, and he finds himself mentally describing everything he sees as though still guiding his friend.

It’s not the same.

He wants Arthur back.

At any rate, the yellow pages are no use for finding witches.

He already knows there are no shops offering such things.

Come to think of it, though… he does know one person who’s connected to witchery.

She’s not likely to help him.

Maybe he can scare her into it? No, that wouldn’t work.

“This is a bad idea, Arthur,” he says out of habit, though of course, there is no response.

He misses Arthur.

It takes him an hour by bus to get to Boston. By the time he arrives, other passengers are avoiding him, glancing nervously at his face, visibly afraid.

Most of them, anyway. Kayne was right about that—a few look distinctly interested, though he’s not sure in what.

If it were John’s body, he might be curious enough to find out, but it isn’t his body, so he doesn’t.

He won’t do that to Arthur, any more than Arthur would do that to him.

The Dunwich Repository looks exactly the same—an understated brownstone with a sign by the door, and no indication just what horrors lie within.

The whole shoggoth thing hadn’t gone… great? And Asenath’s father had died in the middle of it, and honestly, she should have, too, but Arthur had insisted she’d been used and was innocent and needed another chance, all of which John disbelieved, but now maybe he could leverage that mercy.

He climbs the steps to the brownstone’s door and hesitates. Is this really the only option?

Ah. Jagged, black lines have shattered their way from his fingernails down into Arthur’s hands, not following any vein pattern he can see.

John dares not wait. He rings the bell.

She doesn’t make him wait long.

Asenath hasn’t aged much. That she’d aged at all in only a few months, though, is disturbing—and maybe indicates just how long she and her father had been siphoning life from other people to extend their own.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Too late now, though. “Hello, Asenath,” says John.

She raises her perfect eyebrows, her dress diaphanous and pearlescent, her jewelry gleaming and clean.

Then she hauls off and smacks him in the face.

Arthur’s face still stings. He was going to be unrecognizable by the end of all this—though maybe that was good. They had left in the middle of a court case.

“I should throw you out,” says Asenath. “You don’t deserve help from me.”

“We’d hardly be here if we had another choice,” says John, distinctly more kingly than intended.

The look she grants over her shoulder—a full body scan, up and down—is ugly.

The Repository seems serene. The carpet is thick, the wallpaper is silk, and paintings line the walls—but they are not ordinary landscapes.

John knows the landscapes in those paintings. None of them are of this world. Neither are the books on the second and third floors. The whole place is a ticking time bomb of esoteric knowledge.

“Hm,” she says.

John grips Arthur’s gun in his pocket. “What?”

“It’s a curse,” says Asenath, moving forward into the building.

“Is it?” says John. “Seemed like venom of some kind, to me.”

“Well, that’s what happens when an amateur looks into complicated things,” Asenath says, and John remembers why he dislikes her so badly.

“So can you help or not?” he grumps.

“Depends. Can you help me?”

“The last time you wanted help, it was a trap,” says John with conviction.

Because it had been.

Because they’d gotten wind Arthur had a special passenger, and hired him with plans to siphon his life. John’s life.

It hadn’t worked only because they’d underestimated just how completely outrageous Arthur could be when threatened.

“Well, this time, it isn’t one,” says Asenath, and enters the last room in the place.

It might have been a bedroom once. Its windows are boarded; its furniture is gone. A single structure remains now: a rough, wooden rack, on which the dead, rotting body of Ephraim Waite currently stretches.

He’s been there a while. The flesh has begun to pull away from his bones. The ropes around his wrist indent as if in soft cheese.

“Uh,” says John, who had not expected this.

“I’m going to inhabit him with something,” says Asenath. “I haven’t decided what yet, but I need power to keep him from decaying further until I figure it out.”

John stares at her. She would, he thinks, do gangbusters business in the Dreamlands. “Why the fuck?”

“So,” she says, ignoring the question, “I help you with your little chaos curse, and you give me some of your power.”

“I don’t have any power,” says John, lying through Arthur’s teeth.

Her look could shrivel deserts into the richest lagoon.

He sighs. “How much power are we talking?”

“From you? Not much.”

“How do I know you aren’t going to trap us again?”

“Practicality. It’s more useful to have you as a living contact than a dead one right now—though I’ll warn you: at the end, you will need to walk out of here under your own power.” She smiles, and it is not a good smile.

“Fine,” says John, who hopes he’s not making a mistake. “We’ll do it here. Remove the curse, chaos, whatever. I’ll figure it out.”

He does not figure it out.

Removing the chaos is awful, and John is glad Arthur doesn’t have to experience it.

He’s tied to a second wooden frame. He’s bled until his heart stops, shocked to groaning shudders by some kind of jumping electrical arcs from a green wand, and subjected to a screaming rock until his ears ooze blood and he feels half-mad.

Everything she does extracts steaming black stuff from Arthur’s body, which seethes in the jars she uses to catch it, and he knows it’s probably bad to let her keep it, but he’s in no position to argue.

At one point, it feels for all the world like she pulls out his eyes and scoops something black and nasty that was hiding behind them.

Awful, just awful.

But by the end, he is cured. He can feel it; the fever has broken, and the sharp, black lines that had been radiating out from his fingernails are gone.

Unfortunately, so is Arthur’s strength.

“This will do,” she says, untying him by pulling a single knot and letting him fall to the floor. She studies the simple mason jar she filled with sparking yellow magic—when she extracted it, he doesn’t know, but it’s wild to see his power taking form. “Payment received. Business concluded. See yourself out.”

Right. That might be a problem.

John can’t even make the body roll over.

Asenath ignores him, moving around in her weird little lab, sizzling things, smacking things, cutting something that squeals.

He needs to get out of here.

“This is good power,” says Asenath, not even looking at him. “It should preserve the body for several months—so I’ll grant you an hour. After that, you’re a trespasser, and I will do what I want with you. You’ve been warned.” And off she goes with her awful self to do awful things to her awful father, and John curses Kayne for putting him in this situation.

He tries to pull himself toward the door.

Tries.

The thick carpet does not lend itself to dragging, and he makes no progress.

This brownstone is huge, he realizes, though it had seemed small on the way in. Panting, John wonders if he should stop trying, pull out the gun instead, and prepare to defend himself.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring down the interminable hallway, at the distant door that seems so small. “I need help. Fuck, I need help.”

“You do?” says Kayne, standing suddenly between him and the door.

“Go away,” John groans.

“No,” says Kayne, tapping his chin. “I think I’d rather watch what she’s going to do to you when you don’t make it out in time.”

“You wouldn’t!”

The look Kayne gives makes Asenath’s seem humid.

“What do you want?” John snarls.

“Pity I’m all full up for things to do right now,” says Kayne. “No time to help you out. Schedule’s packed. Just swamped with responsibility.”

John knows what he’s hearing. He understands.

It might start this whole mess over again.

Arthur being alive to start it over again outweighs dodging whatever Asenath has in mind. “If we… watch Lucy for another evening, will you…” he says.

“Done!” And Kayne yanks him off the floor like he’s a stuffed toy.

On Tuesday—a full week after The Incident—John knows that Arthur is finally okay because his control of Arthur’s body slips away, heavy like wet silk.

John is so relieved.

Arthur, on his own, stirs.

He’s on the floor. There is a weight on top of him, sitting on his chest—kind of poky, not too heavy, but distinctly uncomfortable and inhuman.

It smells like the underside of a wet log.

A dog?

Not a dog.

He almost panics.

Shhh, John says. She’s finally fucking sleeping.

“She?” Arthur whispers, and can feel himself go pale. “Lucy?”

Yeah. Fucking Lucy.

“What… the hell is she doing here again?”

Arthur, I swear to fuck, if you wake her up—

Arthur gasps. “The court case!”

Relax. It’s been moved.

“Moved? How?”

The wraith. After I made our escape, the wraith went crazy on the courtroom, tearing shit up, scaring everybody. The whole case got moved to next month.

“Wh… what?”

I guess that’s how she helped us. Nobody knows we left before being cross-examined. Talk about luck.

Arthur is very clearly struggling. “I don’t even remember testifying?”

John sighs. So… about that. We—oh, shit.

Lucy wakes up.

She starts with a humming noise, a whir, as though she’s secretly mechanical, and that is the only warning.

After much deliberation, The Incident has now been extended to include the whole week.

I’m telling you, Lucifer is not Kayne’s offspring, John argues.

“Why else would he demand we watch her?” Arthur grouses from behind the gouged desk.

He is banged to hell. The scrapes are healing. There are no new barbs, by all the luck in the world.

They have figured out how to play fetch. Whatever they throw gets destroyed five or six tosses in, but it is enough to keep her from fully rampaging.

I’m telling you, he did this to fuck with us, says John.

Arthur huffs. “Maybe you’re mistaken.”

Maybe you’re naive.

“Maybe he has a daughter,” says Arthur, wistful, though how he could be wistful over a thing that broke every piece of glass in the office (and smashed half the furniture, and ate all the food, and somehow made the ceiling in one corner drip a constant, sticky red) and damn near got him killed is beyond John.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen it. Maybe it was because—

“How are my favorite babysitters?” says Kayne quite brightly, and Lucy makes a weird, trilling sound and leaps into his arms.

Arthur peers around the desk. “Is she?” he says.

“Is she what?” says Kayne, somehow even brighter.

“Your daughter.”

Kayne laughs hard as Lucy crawls over him, settling around his neck like a venomous scarf. “Fuck, no! I found this thing by the side of the road. I don’t even know what she is, but she’s got some attributes, doesn’t she?” He laughs again.

For the love of hell! John snarls.

“Oh,” says Arthur quietly.

Arthur is sad, and John has had enough. If that thing ever shows up here again, we are going to shoot it, he warns. I don’t care what you say.

“Oh, by all means,” says Kayne. “You could’ve shot her now, and I wouldn't care. Anywho, gonna go see how a few planetary royal families handle her brand of play. Thanks for being guinea pigs!” And he disappears with a pop.

In his place, on the ruined rug, is a single orange lollipop, as if to say they were very well-behaved at the dentist.

Arthur groans.

Told you it wasn’t his kid.

“Fuck him,” says Arthur.

Yeah. Definitely.

“How much time did I lose?”

Five days.

Arthur considers this grimly. “We are definitely shooting it next time,” he says. “No questions asked.”

Finally, you’re showing sense.

“Get me to the bathroom. I need to clean up.”

And by mutual decision, they never speak of The Incident again.

#Malevolent #malevolent fox #malevolent fanfic #arthur lester #John malevolent #kayne malevolent #one shot

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