little monster | chris\ryan [c]

16 + sick day

A/N: little rant(? sorta,,), if u don't wanna read it, skip to the '🎃🎃🎃' : alright. i REALLY fucking love ryan sitkowski. okay. like. it's fucking unhealthy. i have a problem. right from the get go, he's been my favourite. like. how can anyone look at him and think 'oh, he looks dumb' 'he's not important' 'he's just a guitar player' like. excuse me motherfucker? excuse. me. motherfucker. the fuck did you just say? i really fucking love ryan sitkowski alright if i see anyone bad mouthing him eVER i will literally punch them in the fucking throat okay ryan is fucking lovely and he deserves the world, not your bullshit. okay. alright? i really. really. love. ryan. sitkowski. if i'm in a pissy mood, all it takes is like, five seconds of looking at a picture of him and i'm like 'yep look at that cute lil face awh precious' so don't you come near me with your 'ryan isn't important' bullshit bc i will fUCK YOU RIGHT THE FUCK UP OKAY I'M FROM NEW YORK MOTHERFUCKER. I MIGHT NOT BE FROM THE CITY BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M ANY LESS AGGRESSIVE ALRIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT? I REALLY FUCKING LOVE RYAN SITKOWSKI. it's disappointing to see people in the fandom who still think he's useless or ditzy or whatever. like. fuck off. not that i'm calling anyone specific out (bc i haven't seen anyone specific.. just anonymous confessions and shit like that)- ryan just deserves more love than he fucking gets, and i'm passionate about it okay? that's it.

also, forgive me, bc this is still my first ddlb fic, and i'm on the fence about when to use 'chris' vs. 'daddy' on this,,
🎃🎃🎃

I marched myself downstairs tiredly, groaning dramatically and throwing myself onto the couch, Daddy sitting out at the kitchen counter typing away at his laptop. I wonder whether typing is easier with longer fingers.. I mean- I'm sure a lot of other things are easier for him.. And it's pretty relaxing to just suck on them.. is that weird..? I don't care. I like his hands..

I whined when he didn't even look up from his computer. Maybe he didn't notice? Whatever the reason, I don't feel well, and he's been so busy these past few days. He's barely paid any attention to me!

I know what you're probably thinking.

Cue the ditzy mock voice.. 'Oh, well, you're a vampire, vampires don't get sick, blah,' but guess what?

You're wrong.

We still get sick- it's just a little more difficult. Say a vampire gets what a modern cold would be to a human- it hits us like a semi truck. The notch of 'ugghhh' is cranked right up, and the 'blaaaah' is off the charts.

I don't like throwing up. Especially in front of people I like. With any friends I'd known for a long time, sure, if I'm gonna throw up, I don't give a crap if they see it, cause they know me. Daddy knows me pretty well by now, but come on; no one is attractive when they're barfing up their innards, or whatever.

All I want right now is.. not.. a stomach ache. I just wanna feel better, cause I feel really yucky. Daddy's still been kissing me and whatnot since I started getting sick, but he's practically immune to everything, and I mean it. Well. I've taken his word for it, y'know?

Just more tap, tap, taping away at the keyboard of his laptop..

Notice me, dammit. How hard does a bloodsucking freak have to try? Come on.. I'm sick, cut me some slack and notice me already.

After a solid minute of scowling dramatically and pouting uselessly up at the ceiling, I sat up, whining again. "Daddyyy.."

I'm going to guess that he genuinely hadn't noticed me at first, because he immediately looked up with that worried, but still sexy as fuck look on his face. "Everything alright, little one?"

I was about to come up with something cute to say, but I got hit with another wave of 'where the hell is the trash can, because I might die right now' washed over me. I leaned over the back of the couch, closing my eyes tight.

I was too caught up in what was wrong to even bother with pressure points or anything. I'm not an expert on that, but I do know that pressure point on the wrist for anxiety and nausea.. But again, I just didn't have time.

I really thought I wad going to puke, and the thought of puking- in front of him,- makes me want to cry.

Which is what I did, because I'm a pussy, especially when I'm sick. It's not nice.

"Sweetheart," He said gently, and I heard the chair slide on the wood floor as he stood up, walking over quickly and rubbing my back. "What's wrong? I can't help if I don't know what's wrong.." He said gently.

I sniffled, biting back sobs and gags. Crying only makes it worse when you're sick..

"I-I do-don' feel good," I said, grabbing my wrists just to hold on to something, not wanting to look up at all.

He sighed softly, guiding me to sit at the edge of the couch. "Deep breaths for me.. Just relax, it's okay," He said, walking off quickly and retuning with a pot from the cupboard, I'm guessing for if I've gotta puke and can't make it to the sink or anything..

He draped a blanket over my shoulders, carefully pulling my hair back so it was out of my face. "It's okay, honey. Happens to everyone.. I think ginger helps with nausea.. and peppermint.. I'll figure something out, just take it easy.. don't cry, hon," He said, kissing my forehead and rubbing my back.

I felt a little better with how calm he was being. He stayed with me until I stopped crying so much, then wandered off to the kitchen to do whatever it was he was going to do.

Gosh, he's so much better than Andy ever was.. I'm really lucky..

A/N: any requests for shit to happen? i've got no damn ideas, so ah. yep.
xxhørrør