canijustwritemyshit

[canijustwritemyshit]

What Have We Signed Up For? (Part 2 of The Nine Month Condition)

I hate this. I fumed for the fifth time today. I started my day sick as a dog, I discovered my favorite jeans don’t fit, my chest is sensitive, and my usually perfect fucking skin has spots, and is breaking out in pubescent acne, and to top it off, I can’t drink to fucking soothe myself because Harry doesn’t want the fucking lima bean to develop fetal alcohol syndrome. I was done with pregnancy. 

Harry gingerly opened the bedroom door, after me having stormed off in a tizzy because he commented on me wearing lounge pants and looking comfy, “Hey, love, light of my life, bearer of my child, would you like me to cancel plans at the Burrow tonight? I’m sure Molly would understand, I mean she was pregnant seven times. We can relax, I’ll order take out or pizza, and we can watch movies and cuddle today instead?” I shook my head.

“No. I’m sorry I snapped at you, I don't feel good, and I found out my favorite Armani jeans don't fit, which is why I am currently in lounge wear, rather than my normal day clothes.” I sighed, my shoulders slumping in guilt. I was only four and a half months along and I was already a living nightmare. “We promised, and besides, Luna and Neville and a few others who don’t know will be there.” 

“Well, I have a few jeans you can wear, love. Also, I know what you’re thinking. You are not a nightmare, love. You’re pregnant and there are weird and uncomfortable things happening inside you. Besides, remember, Ron is doing our ultrasound thing at 3, which is in about an hour, if you need a nap. Don’t think I didn’t notice what time you woke up, Mr. Four -In-The-Bloody-Morning. Matter of fact, I’ll wake you up in forty-five minutes, go take a nap, and I’ll lay out some clothes.” He bent to kiss my forehead, and handed me an herbal tea, sweetened to my exact requirements, and at the exact temperature. I set it beside me on the bedside table, and plopped onto the bed. 

I woke precisely 45 minutes later, to Harry gently toying with my hair. “Come on, dear. Time to get ready, we need to leave in ten minutes.” 

I stretched, mewling in frustration, and clumsily began dressing myself. I glanced in our mirror, ran a hand through my hair to smooth any frizz, and summoned my trainers for the day. “’M ready, love.” 

He smiled at me, kissing me chastely, “Shall we go see the alfalfa sprout?” 

I rolled my eyes, “I’ll have you know, it is a lima bean, not an alfalfa sprout. It is part Malfoy, after all, and therefore it is held in higher regard. Also, it is the shape of a bean, not a sprout.” Harry chuckled beside me.

“Of course, my love.” He gently grasped me and the portkey, as we found out that flooing was just as bad on my stomach as apparating, and I felt the familiar pull on my navel, before we popped into the Burrow, almost landing directly on top of a startled Victoire teetering to her blocks. She fell, got back up, and waddled over to them without so much as a singular tear. 

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked Fleur, who sat there laughing at the gusto her daughter had. 

“‘E iz upstairs, waiting for you and ‘Arry, bonne chance! Good luck! Tell uz everyt’ing! A bientôt!” Fleur lilted in her beautifully soft way.

Harry grasped my back as we trudged up the mountain of stairs. I breathed heavily, not used to the weight that fell upon my stomach, albeit it was a minor gain thus far. I felt faint, panting as though the air was much too thin. “Harry,” I breathed, “I can’t-” I paused a moment. “And to think I was an athlete, too.” I sighed. Nodding, we tackled the remaining steps, albeit I was extensively out of breath at this point. 

“Ah, good, you’re here. Mate, d’ya mind taking that seat beside the exam bed?” Ron greeted us, and pointed to the comfy looking lounge chair. I hobbled up onto the bed. Ron waved his wand, transforming my clothes into roomy cotton scrubs, “Alright, how has everything been so far, Draco? No bleeding or nausea that has made you too ill?” 

“No. But everything hurts, and my chest is extremely sensitive. My balance is off, and even walking up stairs leaves me panting like a hippogryph. I am suffering."

Ron smirked, "Well, let's go on to why you came here then!" Harry started to fidget excitedly.

A few moments and a few waves of his wand, there they were. "Oh!" I gasped.

In silver and darkness was our baby. I looked to Harry, his eyes damp, the goofiest grin plastered to his face. "There she is." I glared at him.

"Malfoy's don't have girls." I stated.

"No, however, Potter's might." He smiled.

"Well, would you like to settle the score, I can tell you the sex." Ron piped up.

"Harry? Do you-" I breathed.

"Yes!" I nodded at Ron.

"A little girl, sorry Draco. Harry got this one." My eyes teared up.

"A princess?" I started to cry. "My baby girl!"

Harry reached over and hugged me, "Our baby girl."

#drarry mpreg #drarry #domestic drarry #drarry baby #pregnant draco #draco x harry #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry x draco #mpreg

[canijustwritemyshit]

Soul-Stars

Harry stood there, waiting for the pain to subside. His mark burned, a white hot flame that was stark against his light olive skin. He gritted his teeth and waited, muffling his yelps of discomfort from his horrible aunt and uncle. 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” he whispered to himself. He released a breath, as the pain finally ceased. 

It took several weeks before he saw a new color. At first he thought it to be a scar, so faint and silvery was this thing, this mark he now possessed. He spent several hours pondering what this star meant for his future, meanwhile another was contemplating much the same question. Who?

Draco Malfoy sat in front of his mirror, inspecting his tattooed skin. The little star raised and irked due to the sudden change in pigment. Emerald green. The color of an old, fading muggle tattoo. The color of seaweed. His heart sank. Green. Not red like the Boy He Loved. Green. He assumed a Slytherin, and his heart plunged. How wrong he was.

A few days later, in the middle of breakfast, Draco heard the shrill yell. "What do you mean your mark has color? We were supposed to be soulmates! How dare you!" Ginerva Weasley. In a plume of hatred and betrayal, she was lit. Red hair suspended in the air with magical anger. "You were promised to me! Dumbledore promised you would be mine if I was helpful to you! He promised me fame! Fortune! The traitor!" She went red. "I, I'm joking! Ha. Hahaha. See, funny!" She tried to backtrack as people started to stand and walk behind Harry.

"No. You are not. You are manipulative and wrong and mean. You are using me for fame, are you not? Ginny. I don't love you. I never loved you. I dated you as it was expected. Not anymore. " Harry bit out. "I think you need to go before you make it worse."

"No! You are mine! And if you won't be mine willingly, I will make you! Crucio!" She screeched. Draco stood as fast as his legs could, and ran. Ran in front of Harry.

Pain.

All Draco could feel was pain. Excruciating, devastating pain. He couldn't see through the thick screams of agony and the stream of tears cascading down his cheeks. Then, silence. Stillness.

"Ginerva Magdalene Weasley! My office NOW." Professor McGonagall yelled. "Harry, dear, get him to Poppy, please. Zabini, Longbottom, keep behind them."

Harry looked down and lifted the frail Draco into his arms, making haste to get him help.

The five minute walk was almost unbearable as they rushed to the Mediwitch. "What has happened!? Harry Potter! Did you do this to the boy? The Headmistress will ne notified immediately!" Pomphrey clucked.

"No, ma'am. Harry was innocent. Malfoy jumped in front of the cruciatus for Harry. Harry's ex threw it. Please, help them!" Neville spoke up, realizing the reason for his and Zabini's presence.

"Zabini? Mr. Potter? Is this true?" She inquired.

They nodded as Harry lay the boy in his arms in a cot as gently as possible. As he released Draco, he caught a glimpse of the boy's collarbone through his disheveled shirt. Green? The color of his eyes.

It took a few hours, many spells and pain potions, but finally, finally, Draco opened his bleary eyes, and croaked a sound that could have been mistaken for a cough or a gag, "Har-" he sputtered. Harry, who had been sitting next to him in the long-felt hours, lost in his thoughts about this newfound situation, turned sharply towards the other boy lying in the hospital bed. The boy who had suffered so much, and had caused much of Harry's own suffering in their primitive years at Hogwarts. The boy who had jumped in front of an Unforgivable for him. Harry was beside himself.

"Shhh, Draco, it's alright," Harry turned to the bedside table and grasped a glass of water, handing it to the other boy, "Drink this, while I get Pomfrey. Hang tight." He offered Draco a tight lipped smile as he left the curtained off area, and went to find the Mediwitch.

A moment later Harry reappeared with the small, rounded woman. "Mister Malfoy! You gave us all quite the scare, and I admit I wrongfully accused the two of you boys to one of your squabbles. For this, I must apologize." She cleared her throat quickly, before marching on to her more professional business. "Right, so, you have no permanent damage done, you seem to be holding yourself well. You will be tired for upwards of a week, and Professor McGonagall has taken it to herself to properly remove the both of you from your dorms, so after I'm through with you, either Minerva or a house elf will escort you to your new room."

They stopped short, the singular 'room' not lost on them even through the hubbub and stress that had occured.

"I see you're both confused, but I'm afraid that the Headmistress will have to explain.

'Anyways, Draco, you will have to be extra careful with overdoing it, which means very little magic, lots of rest, and if you are having any blackouts, pain that causes nausea or vomiting, memory issues, or anything abnormal at all, you must come back. I have here a few pain potions for the next few days, if you need more you come straight to me. If there are no questions, you both will be free to go, I'll retrieve someone to help you to your new housing." And with that, she left.

After a wait filled with anticipation of the unknown, McGonagall arrived, though she looked to be haggard and still very angry. "Potter, Malfoy, I hope you feel better! I have had quite the few hours I'm afraid, what with aurors and notifying the Weasley family, I'm sorry I couldn't come talk to you earlier." She looked like she had swallowed an acid drop that still wouldn't dissolve.

Draco spoke up, "It's alright, I just woke up, and I'm sore, so I'm not the greatest company at the moment."

McGonagall pursed her lips further, "No, I suppose you are not. What say you two stay back tonight from meal time- get more acquainted with each other- and share a meal in your dormitory." She motioned for the teens to follow behind her, as she walked briskly up stairwells to a far back tower towards the outermost corner of Hogwarts itself.

Upon arrival she turned to them, indicating a single painting of a Spector of glowing white blue hovered through a dark view of the stars. "Your password until you so choose to change it-" she narrowed her eyes sternly, "and agree upon it- is anima stella." With that she turned on her heel and strode away, her cloak billowing in a very Snape-ish way.

Harry turned to Draco, "You first? " he rubs his head, sheepishly, unsure. Draco nodded, his nerves equally as unsettled.

[canijustwritemyshit]

Please read and comment! I would love to know how to better my writing!

Call Me Draco, Please

I looked in the mirror, and smiled at my reflection for the first time in my life, it felt right. My once long, wavy, white-blonde hair, that had reached my rear, was now cut in a short undercut style, loosely tickling the tips of my ears. My soft features were strengthened, sharpened by the best permanent Transfigurative magic possible. I awkwardly groped my chest, once a B cup, now flat, no need to bind, before moving my hand shyly between my legs. What was once flat and obviously female was swollen, I had finally the part I wanted. 

A Healer walked in, “How are we feeling, Mr. Malfoy?”

I grinned impishly at her, “Like I fit in my own skin. Finally.” I covered my mouth, startled at my voice. 

She laughed, “That is a lovely voice for you. Now, I brought up a form to change your name, too. I figured that handsome young man with the messy young hair belonged to you, and he brought you some clothes.” 

I laughed, joyously. I gripped the quill in my hand, my hand shaking with anticipation. I pushed the quill to the page, anxiety building in my chest, thrumming in my heart like a hundred kilos of straight adrenaline. This was it. The moment I had wanted my entire life. 

I lilted the pen across the page one letter at a time, cautious precision my absolute only purpose. D-R-A-C-O, to represent my mother, to be held in my life wherever I would go, I sat, pondering my middle name, as there were so many people I wanted to keep with me in my name, there were so many options. I looked at the kindly older witch, “I know my first name, but I haven’t found a middle name that is mine,” I fished for the right question.

She smiled, gently, “ Well, dear, I cannot help you, but I think I would pick the name of the person who most inspired me and loved me most. Honor them.” 

I nodded. I wrote the middle name of my godfather. T-O-B-I-A-S. 

She read my names after I handed her the paper, “Beautiful choices, for a beautiful young man. My son, before the rise of He-Who-Mustn’t-Be-Named, was named Tobias. You do both men honor by that name, dear. It is a perfect choice.” She reached down and hugged me, like I’d imagine a kindly grandmother would embrace a child. 

“Thank you,Mrs.-” I started. 

“Eileen. Eileen Prince.” She smiled. I stared. 

“My godfather’s mother was named Eileen… His name was Severus Tobias.” 

She gaped. “Sev- my little Severus? Is he alive?” I nodded. 

“He’s the one who brewed my hormone potions. He should be here to retrieve me in a few moments, actually.” 

We sat, talking and soon there was a man, in all black, his hooked roman nose high in the air, in the doorway. “What name did you choose, m’ boy?” He swooped into the room.

“Draco, Draco Tobias.” I offered. 

He jumped. “Tobias? I am honored.” 

I stood, “Uncle? I believe there’s a woman here, you might want to meet. She says she was very close to you, once.” 

Eileen turned, “Hello, Severus. I don’t know if you remember me all that much.” She looked considerably softer than my uncle, although you could see the fire in their steps, the passion and love of their spirits.

His face turned ashen. “Mo-mother?” I smiled, and stepped out of the room.

I meandered down the corridor, and sent a Patronus to my boyfriend. “Harry, I’m ready. I’m ready to be Draco Tobias. I’ll be at the end of the Lillian Ward in a few moments. Come get me.”

-Fin-

[canijustwritemyshit]

Call Me Draco, Please

I looked in the mirror, and smiled at my reflection for the first time in my life, it felt right. My once long, wavy, white-blonde hair, that had reached my rear, was now cut in a short undercut style, loosely tickling the tips of my ears. My soft features were strengthened, sharpened by the best permanent Transfigurative magic possible. I awkwardly groped my chest, once a B cup, now flat, no need to bind, before moving my hand shyly between my legs. What was once flat and obviously female was swollen, I had finally the part I wanted. 

A Healer walked in, “How are we feeling, Mr. Malfoy?”

I grinned impishly at her, “Like I fit in my own skin. Finally.” I covered my mouth, startled at my voice. 

She laughed, “That is a lovely voice for you. Now, I brought up a form to change your name, too. I figured that handsome young man with the messy young hair belonged to you, and he brought you some clothes.” 

I laughed, joyously. I gripped the quill in my hand, my hand shaking with anticipation. I pushed the quill to the page, anxiety building in my chest, thrumming in my heart like a hundred kilos of straight adrenaline. This was it. The moment I had wanted my entire life. 

I lilted the pen across the page one letter at a time, cautious precision my absolute only purpose. D-R-A-C-O, to represent my mother, to be held in my life wherever I would go, I sat, pondering my middle name, as there were so many people I wanted to keep with me in my name, there were so many options. I looked at the kindly older witch, “I know my first name, but I haven’t found a middle name that is mine,” I fished for the right question.

She smiled, gently, “ Well, dear, I cannot help you, but I think I would pick the name of the person who most inspired me and loved me most. Honor them.” 

I nodded. I wrote the middle name of my godfather. T-O-B-I-A-S. 

She read my names after I handed her the paper, “Beautiful choices, for a beautiful young man. My son, before the rise of He-Who-Mustn’t-Be-Named, was named Tobias. You do both men honor by that name, dear. It is a perfect choice.” She reached down and hugged me, like I’d imagine a kindly grandmother would embrace a child. 

“Thank you,Mrs.-” I started. 

“Eileen. Eileen Prince.” She smiled. I stared. 

“My godfather’s mother was named Eileen... His name was Severus Tobias.” 

She gaped. “Sev- my little Severus? Is he alive?” I nodded. 

“He’s the one who brewed my hormone potions. He should be here to retrieve me in a few moments, actually.” 

We sat, talking and soon there was a man, in all black, his hooked roman nose high in the air, in the doorway. “What name did you choose, m’ boy?” He swooped into the room.

“Draco, Draco Tobias.” I offered. 

He jumped. “Tobias? I am honored.” 

I stood, “Uncle? I believe there’s a woman here, you might want to meet. She says she was very close to you, once.” 

Eileen turned, “Hello, Severus. I don’t know if you remember me all that much.” She looked considerably softer than my uncle, although you could see the fire in their steps, the passion and love of their spirits.

His face turned ashen. “Mo-mother?” I smiled, and stepped out of the room.

I meandered down the corridor, and sent a Patronus to my boyfriend. “Harry, I’m ready. I’m ready to be Draco Tobias. I’ll be at the end of the Lillian Ward in a few moments. Come get me.”

-Fin-

#trans!draco #harry potter #drarry #draco X harry #lgbtq #severus snape #draco malfoy

[canijustwritemyshit]

‘Tis a Very Drarry Christmas (Part 1 of The Nine Month Condition)

I wandered around the sea of gingers, spying for the one color of comfort, the deep indigo black that belonged to my recent husband. His best friend laughed at my uncomfortable expression.

“You okay there, Potter?” Weasel, Ron, I mentally corrected myself, asked me, mildly concerned. We had had to bury the hatchet the moment that his best friend had began to court me, the pureblood way, I remembered smugly. Ron hadn’t take the news very responsibly. 

“Yeah, yeah, mostly at least, just... There are so many of you guys, I feel a bit overwhelmed.” I chuckled, nervously, my voice threatening to quake as I began to ever more frantically search for my husband again. After the war, I had developed a rather acute social anxiety disorder, making most crowds unbearable. 

I had been so determined this morning to join the family Christmas celebration, and I had done well up until George had gotten drunk off spiked eggnog, saw his reflection and thought it was Fred, before remembering that Fred had died. He started getting extremely aggressive and suddenly, my sleeve had slipped, revealing my old scarred mark, and he began to target me with said aggression. I had fled rather quickly. That had been only about three minutes ago, and I could feel the panic setting in my bones, making it harder and harder to breathe, to think, to move. 

I swayed, dizziness from the onset hypoxia causing spots in my vision. Ron noticed, his face getting grim. He spotted his younger sister, and called to her, “Ginny! Get Harry!” He sat me next to baby Teddy and Victoire, before he plopped next to me. “Ok, Draco, can you breathe?” I shook my head, saving the bit of air my lungs could grasp for its purpose of keeping me conscious. “Remember, I’m a Healer. Its okay, you’re okay. In two, out three. Come on, you’ve got it.” I focused on his voice as it carried me, guided me.

 I heard a loud ‘Fuck!’ and a clatter of what I assumed was glass. ‘Where is he? Ginny?!’ I turned my head towards the commotion, as Ron gently pulled my chin to face him. 

“Focus on me, everything’s alright. That's it, breathe.”

I heard a swish as a blanketing smell of rightness filled my nose, ginger, wood, broom polish, and something specifically “Harry!” I twisted, burrowing in the crook of his neck, and inhaled. 

“Was it another one?” Harry asked Ron, soothingly drawing circles and patterns across my back and side, worry biting into his warm and low tone. 

“Yeah, he started to turn a bit blue in the face, and was swaying, it looked like he was trying to find you.” Ron stated, gentle and quiet. 

“Oh, Draco. What triggered it, love?” He whispered, guilt radiating from him as he held me. I gingerly pulled myself from him, and began to explain what happened.

“I deserve it, I’m Death Eater scum, he’s right. I didn't deserve to survive, I don't even deserve a family.” I finished almost inaudibly. Harry inhaled loudly, like I had physically wounded him, his arms wound themselves painfully tight around my torso. 

“No, no!” I felt wetness on my neck. Tears. Harry’s tears. “No, I love you. George is hurting and he’s drunk. Ignore him. He doesn't know what he’s saying.” He paused a second,” What do you mean, you don't deserve a family? Draco?” His eyebrow quirked.

“I love you, too, and its nothing.Truly.” I glanced at Ron, hoping he’d read my expression, that so obviously asked help me later. 

He nodded.” Yeah, mate, if it’ll put you at ease, I’ll take him inside, and run a quick check up.” He supplied, almost immediately. 

I smiled, grateful that he understood. Harry smiled, “If you’d be so kind? I’ll keep the kiddos entertained, besides, I haven’t given them their special Christmas lollies!” He turned granting us leave.

We got into the house and trudged up to the nearest, cleanest, quiet room, before Ron cast a privacy bubble and a few silencing spells. “ Alright, what’s going on that you needed me? Are you feeling okay?” He slipped into his I’m just a nice Healer, now do as I say and get a cool sticker voice

I glanced down, suddenly, quite embarrassed and meek feeling. “Erm… I need a test...” I stated simply, worrying my lip between my teeth. He raised a brow.

“A test? What kind of test? A blood test, a diagnosis, a Transfiguration test? Please specify. For all I know, you’re telling me you’ve contracted some form of STI or something.” He chuckled. 

I mumbled under my breath, “Well, it is contracted via sex, so you aren’t wrong.” 

“Come again? Did you just allude to what I think you just said? Is this what that comment about not deserving a family is about? Draco, do you need me to run a male pregnancy test?” He stood there, mouth agape.

“Eh hehe, yes...” I grimaced, highly embarrassed.

He simply smirked, and waved his wand gently, as a faint blue light rose from the tip of his wand. “Well, I must say, congratulations are in order, I suppose. You seem to be approximately 2 months along. Now, go tell Harry, before I tell ‘Mione, and she spill the secret herself.” He nudged me out the door.

I turned before leaving, “Would you honor us, and be the mediwizard throughout?” Grinning, he nodded.

I left, and quickly reunited myself with Harry.

“Is everything okay? It took you two a while longer than I expected.. You don’t have a condition do you?” Harry asked me as soon as I was beside him.

“Actually, dear. It seems that I do have a condition. Not to worry though, as it’ll be gone in say... Six to seven months...” I giggled.

“What condition takes seven months to be remedied?” He asked, worry and fear beginning to quench his voice.

“Harry, you buffoon. We need to get another bedroom set up.”

“Another bedroom? Does a Healer have to stay with us to take care of you? You should be sitting! And you need soup!” He was hilariously, obliviously panicking.

“Love, keep your voice down, I am okay. You’re a daddy.” I laughed.

“Draco, you could be dying! I will not keep my voice down... Wait... Did you just say? Draco?”

“Merry Christmas dear, merry Christmas.” I snorted.

“You’re pregnant!?” He shout whispered.

Everything stopped. The sound silenced, and everyone who had been watching curiously went still.

“Well, but of course, dear. Although, I’m not sure this is how I had planned on everyone learning. You simply must learn to keep your voice down or cast a charm or two. Yes, well, merry Christmas, everyone, it seems that the Potter gift to the family will be taking a bit to get here, but it should arrive by July. Please, pay no head to my husband’s theatrics.” I waved my hand, gesturing broadly, in my- as Harry put it- gitish, pretentious way. Ron whooped, and slowly applause and cheer echoed once more through the yard. Molly looked so anxious to come dote on me. 

I looked at my childlike husband, who was practically howling with glee, and smiled tightly, the feeling of yet another anxiety attack coming on. I grasped for his hand, and squeezed, once, twice, three times. Our code that I needed to find somewhere to calm and ground myself, fast.

He jumped and smiled apologetically, “We’ll be taking our leave, Draco needs rest. It’s been a very excitable day! Thank you all for the wonderous gifts, and have a merry Christmas.” 

We stood and walked to the apparation point, and left. Moments later we had arrived at our quaint cottage. I took off towards the loo, my stomach doing flips, barely making it in time. I was brushing my teeth as Harry entered. “Pray tell why we always apparate home? It was bad before, but now that I’m pregnant, we really need to find other means of transportation. I can’t apparate after the first trimester, or we risk splinching the baby and me, dangerously.” I held my abdomen, longingly. I noticed the slight raising of my stomach, as my fingers soothed circles into the soft flesh. 

I was so very ready for this new adventure.

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry mpreg #mpreg #healer!ron #pregnant draco #post war

[canijustwritemyshit]

Unusual Asks

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? 

is your room messy or clean?

what color are your eyes?

do you like your name? why?

what is your relationship status? 

describe your personality in 3 words or less

what color hair do you have?

what kind of car do you drive? color?

where do you shop?

how would you describe your style?

favorite social media account

what size bed do you have? 

any siblings?

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

favorite snapchat filter? 

favorite makeup brand(s)

how many times a week do you shower?

favorite tv show?

shoe size?

how tall are you?

sandals or sneakers? 

do you go to the gym? 

describe your dream date

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

what color socks are you wearing? 

how many pillows do you sleep with?

do you have a job? what do you do? 

how many friends do you have? 

whats the worst thing you have ever done? 

whats your favorite candle scent? 

3 favorite boy names

3 favorite girl names

favorite actor? 

favorite actress? 

who is your celebrity crush?

favorite movie? 

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? 

money or brains? 

do you have a nickname? what is it? 

how many times have you been to the hospital?

top 10 favorite songs

do you take any medications daily? 

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

what is your biggest fear? 

how many kids do you want? 

whats your go to hair style?

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) 

who is your role model? 

what was the last compliment you received?

what was the last text you sent?

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

what is your dream car? 

opinion on smoking?

do you go to college? 

what is your dream job? 

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? 

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? 

do you have freckles? 

do you smile for pictures?

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 

have you ever peed in the woods? 

do you still watch cartoons? 

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Favorite dipping sauce? 

what do you wear to bed? 

have you ever won a spelling bee?

 what are your hobbies?

can you draw? 

do you play an instrument?

what was the last concert you saw? 

tea or coffee?

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

do you want to get married?

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

are you going to change your last name when you get married? 

what color looks best on you? 

do you miss anyone right now? 

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

do you believe in ghosts?

what is your biggest pet peeve? 

last person you called`

favorite ice cream flavor? 

regular oreos or golden oreos? 

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? 

what shirt are you wearing? 

what is your phone background?

are you outgoing or shy?

do you like it when people play with your hair?

do you like your neighbors? 

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

have you ever been high? 

have you ever been drunk? 

last thing you ate? 

favorite lyrics right now

summer or winter? 

day or night? 

dark, milk, or white chocolate? 

favorite month? 

what is your zodiac sign

 who was the last person you cried in front of? 

[canijustwritemyshit]

#how the fuck did this convo start?

Tony: god today fucking sucks!

Peter: did you try yeething them away?

Stephen: you know this group family session is off to a lovely start

[canijustwritemyshit]

I heard that a lot of y’all were wondering what would’ve gone down if Peter had survived the Snap long enough to get stranded on that ship with Tony. Unluckily for you, I had the same question. Even more unluckily for you, I decided to write this fic to answer it.

WARNINGS: Major Character Death

Tony realized they were going to die about two days ago.

Their ship had no fuel, no power. He’d screwed around with the wiring a million times, just trying to get communications back online, but all he got was a few painful burns and jack shit in the way of results.

They were going to die in an alien spaceship, floating lightyears away from home, and there was absolutely nothing Tony could do about it.

It wouldn’t have mattered as much if he’d been alone. Sure, dying adrift in space was a pretty shitty conclusion to his life, but it wasn’t like he’d expected much else. After all, when did Tony Stark ever get lucky?

It was just… he had Peter with him.

Peter, who had stood next to him in silent horror as each and every one of their companions crumbled into dust. Peter, who Tony had checked over a hundred times in the aftermath, terrified that he was next, that the effects were just delayed, that the kid would fade before his eyes. Peter, who had been silently bearing the weight of losing on his shoulders ever since he’d seen firsthand the real consequences of war.

Peter, who was just sixteen years old.

“Mister Stark?” Peter peeked over his shoulder at the one working control panel in the whole cockpit. Tony quickly closed the oxygen stats he’d been looking at. “What’s wrong?”

Someone still might rescue us. Peter’s suit sent out a distress signal when it went offline. As long as we’re not too far out, the radio signals should have reached Earth. They’ll come. They will.

“Nothing. Just some info on the ship’s systems. You good?”

“I’m fine.” Peter shuffled a little on his feet. “A little bored, I guess.”

“Bored? I take you to space and you say you’re bored? Honestly, Peter, what do I have to do to please you?”

The kid laughed. “Dunno. Maybe take me to Paris, next time.”

“When we get home, I promise to take you to more than just Paris. We’re going on a European tour. Every major city is our new playground. Sound good to you?”

Peter flashed him a huge smile. “Sounds awesome.”

Let me get to show him Paris, and Venice, and Rome. Let me watch him graduate. Let me bring him home to May.

Please. Please. Please.

Keep reading

[canijustwritemyshit]

Fic idea

Grandpa Tony

So in my head Peter gets married to Mary Jane of the Raimi movies, the redheaded firecracker

And yeah, Tony loves her but he does not appreciate her drunk, abusive family

So when the pair get married he hires bodyguards because the last time saw the parents they were asking him for money

The wedding goes fine (and Tony does not cry, no, no the air was just really dry) and Mary Jane is walked down the aisle by her father and Peter is so happy and still looks way too young

But the Watsons got into a fight and had to be escorted out the premises

A year after the wedding Peter and Mary Jane come for a Sunday lunch when give mysterious smiles and say they’re getting a new family member

Tony and Pepper’s daughter Marian asks if they’re getting a puppy

Peter chuckles and takes out an ultra-sound photo and there she is

“You’re going to be grandparents,” Mary Jane cries and Pepper hugs her. Tony stares at the photo and has to exit the room because the emotions get the best of him

“Mr Stark?” Peter still had not given up the nickname. Tony turns around and embraces the boy so tightly

“Hey, hey, what is wrong? You’re supposed to be happy?”

Tony lets go and cradles Peter’s face between his hands. “I am happy, so happy but I just can’t- I can’t believe you’re an adult and a father and- I still think you’re the little fifteen-year-old that would talk a mile a minute but now you’re the CEO and- so grown up.”

Tony is there with every step of the way, he helps Mary Jane when Peter has to work, he offers his help in decorating the nursery and donates a lot of Marian’s old baby clothes and toys. Pepper jokes he might be more excited about the baby than the parents

And when the baby comes, the Stark family is there at the hospital and Tony is actually the first one to hold the baby because Mary Jane has to go to a surgery and Peter is way too scared to even touch the baby

Tony falls in love with his granddaughter who has Peter’s hair and little button nose and he and Peter laugh at her facial expressions, like she wasn’t happy to be out in the world

Tony becomes a devoted grandfather, he buys the little girl gifts, is always up for baby-sitting and is just constantly holding her. He can’t help wondering if Peter was like her when he was a baby.

When she grows up, Tony gets her into science. Once Peter comes back from a business trip, little Stephanie explains how there was moldy bread in the house so grandpa let her look at it through a microscope it was so cool 

“She didn’t eat any, did she?” “Of course not, have I ever been known for feeding anyone expired food? Besides, mold is organic, it doesn’t kill, just comes out from one end.” “Or both.”

[canijustwritemyshit]

MY HEART

Day 3 - hot chocolate

“Hey, kiddo.”

Peter glanced up from where he was curled up on the couch, blueish TV light drawing shadows on his face. He didn’t look even a little surprised by Tony’s presence. He must’ve known F.R.I.D.A.Y. would tattle on him.

“Hey, Mister Stark.”

Tony leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he dragged his gaze slowly over the scene. “Trouble sleeping?”

“I guess.”

He wandered over and sat at the kid’s side, ankle crossed casually over his knee. “Wanna talk about why?”

“I feel like that’s obvious, y’know?”

“It is.” Of course it is. It still keeps me up at night, too. I close my eyes and it’s all I see. “Still helps to talk about it, though.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever talked about it?”

He twisted to look directly into Peter’s face. “Yes.”

“To who?”

“Rhodey, mostly. A little to Pepper. What about you?”

Peter shifted his weight until he bumped into Tony’s side. “I can’t talk to May. That’s… that’s not fair. Not after everything.”

“You can talk to me.”

“It’s not fair to you, either. I don’t think it’s fair especially to you. You… you had to watch.”

“But nobody else on Earth understands what you went through like I do.”

“Yeah.” Peter’s voice was weak, like he barely had the energy to form words. “I just… I just I wish I could sleep. I’m so tired.”

“Well, I think I can help you with that.”

There was a blossom of innocent hope on the kid’s face. “You can?”

“Yep.” He patted his leg. “Get up.”

“That’s usually the last thing you should do when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Oh, hush. Go take a hot shower. Then put on pajamas and come right back here.”

“I already took a shower.”

“Take another. The temperature drop helps you sleep. It’s step one.”

“You have steps?”

“You bet I do. We’re about to have the sleepiest night ever. I’m pulling out all the stops.”

Peter got up and raised his hands in defeat. “Fine. I don’t think it’s gonna work, though.”

He waited until Peter was out of the room before leaning back with a confident smirk. “Oh, it’ll work.”

–

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Give me everything I can do to help Peter sleep. Send a list to my StarkPad.”

“Any technology will likely be adverse to your plan.”

“Alright, well,” he fumbled around on the coffee table until he found a pen and a notepad (definitely Pepper’s), “read them out. I guess we’re doing this the old fashioned way.”

–

After about 30 minutes, Peter padded back into the room dressed in sweats. Tony could see the edge of his phone peeking out from his pocket.

“Gimme that.”

“Give you what?”

“Your phone.”

Peter plopped down next to him and pulled a face. “Why do you want my phone?”

“I’m confiscating all electronics. TV’s programmed to stay off until morning, too.”

“Oh, god.” Peter handed the phone over, albeit reluctantly. “You really are taking this seriously.”

“Of course I am, Pete. You aren’t sleeping. This is serious.”

The kid’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Oi. Nope. None of that. Not your fault.” Tony hopped up and headed towards the kitchen, making a pit stop to toss the phone into a drawer. “You like hot chocolate?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I mean, who doesn’t?”

“Happy, for one. Won’t drink it, but he’ll eat the mix right out of the packet like a monster.”

He could practically taste Peter’s amusement. “Uh, ew.”

“That’s what I said.”

There was a brief lull in conversation, but Tony could feel Peter’s brain churning.

“Why’re you making hot chocolate?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. It wasn’t like this was the first moment of vulnerability he’d had around the kid, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. “My mom used to make it for me when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. Used to knock me out like a light. I thought it might work for you, too.”

“Are you making it from scratch?”

“Sure am.”

“Wow. I don’t even know how to do that. Uncle Ben used to just buy those Swiss Miss packets in bulk.”

We’re both reminiscing about dead people. How quaint. “Marshmallows or classic?”

Peter had spun around on the couch so he could watch Tony work, elbows braced against the top of the cushions. “Classic, usually. But sometimes he’d buy a box or two of Marshmallow Madness and that was the best.”

Sometimes it surprised Tony, the little things that could spark up Peter’s world. He was just so… simple. Easy to please. He didn’t think he’d ever been like that. 

He wandered over to the couch with a mug in each hand. His was plain black, but he’d nabbed a Star Wars one for Peter. “Well, this may not be Marshmallow Madness but I certainly hope it won’t disappoint.”

The kid took his mug with a murmured thanks and a quick, “I know it won’t.”

They curled up next to each other. Tony sat his mug down on the coffee table just long enough to tug the warm comforter he’d snatched from his room around them both. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? You set the temperature a little lower, right?”

“Yes, Boss.”

Peter tucked himself under Tony’s arm without any prompting when he leaned back, mug still cradled between his palms. “Is that supposed to help?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

The silence was long but comfortable. Peter drank his hot chocolate slowly, body melting into Tony’s side. The tension evaporated from his shoulders. It seemed like his first few steps were working.

He didn’t know how much time passed before the kid spoke again, but he did know that both mugs of hot chocolate were empty and had long since been discarded on the far end of the coffee table by the time he did.

“What time is it?”

“Not sure. I got rid of all the clocks. F.R.I.D.A.Y. won’t tell us, either.”

“Why?”

“Because constantly checking the time just stresses you out of sleeping, apparently. Science backs me on this.”

“Oh.” Peter nestled his face into Tony’s shirt. “I’m sorry you have to do this. I bet you’d rather be sleeping yourself.”

Cute of you to assume I actually sleep, Peter. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, buddy.”

Peter let out a huff of frustration. “I swear I’m trying to sleep.”

“Quit that. I don’t expect you to sleep.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” Oh, you’re sleeping. You just don’t know it yet. “We’re just trying to relax. Don’t worry about sleeping, that’ll come or it won’t.”

“It’s okay if I don’t? You won’t be mad?”

“Why would I be mad if you can’t sleep?”

“Dunno. I just thought you might be.”

He shook his head and ran his fingers through the kid’s curls. They were still a little damp under his hand. “Well, think differently. It’s fine. It’s all fine. We’re working on it. It might take some time.”

“Yeah. ‘S just… ‘m so tired.” God, there were tears in the kid’s voice. “I wish I could sleep.”

I’m working on it, kiddo. Just trust me. “I know. It’ll be alright.” He glanced up. “Start that playlist I picked out, FRI. Please.”

A set of gentle chords filled the room. He could just see Peter’s sleepy smile out of the corner of his eye.

“‘S this lullabies?”

“So what if they are?”

“For babies.”

“You’re essentially a baby.”

“‘M seventeen.”

He rubbed his hand soothingly through the kid’s hair. “Case in point.”

“Mm.” A few moments passed where all they did was breathe. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Well, that wasn’t a comment he knew how to respond to. “How’s it sound?”

“Nice. Can tell it’s yours. I’ve heard it a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. ‘S helping.”

He wondered if Peter could hear the way his heart clenched, or if that was just a thing that happened in his head. “Well, let me know if it stops, yeah? I might not notice otherwise.”

Peter laugh was more of a sigh than actual laughter. “Think you would.”

“How do you know, huh?”

Peter’s only response was a drowsy hum. Yeah, Tony was the best. His plan was the best. He was a miracle worker.

There was only one last goal to fulfill. After all, he didn’t want the kid to fall asleep only to wake up in a panic an hour later. He wanted him to sleep and stay asleep.

Maybe he could convince him to dream of something nice. Whenever he was having a lot of nightmares, he tried to fall asleep thinking of Pepper. It didn’t always work, but he did think it helped.

“Hey, buddy?”

“Mm?”

“I’m curious. What’s your favorite place? Like if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Don’ wanna go anywhere else. ‘M happy right here.”

[canijustwritemyshit]

trans!peter parker

hello i have seen homecoming three times now and i’m obsessed and in love with everything about the movie and the trans!peter headcanon

The first thing i heard about trans!peter was a post talking about how being bullied for being a nerd in school really isnt a common thing anymore, at least in america, and, if anything, in my experience, it tends to be the smartest kids that are actually the most popular. And the post raised the question: So what if peter is actually bullied because he’s trans? And that makes so much sense. And being a trans boy in high school myself and absolutely on board with the headcanon i thought i’d join in and add some things. Some of these other people may have talked about also.

“I am not a GIRL. IM A BOY. I mEAN IM A MAN.” peter gets very upset when donald glover’s character calls him a girl. his voice breaks and he gets visibly flustered.

Flash calls him “Penis Parker”. speaking from experience, high school bullies are not very creative with nicknames and will always go straight for the deepest insecurity they know. I personally think this is a dig at peter being trans.

Peter has proportionally quite small hands and feet. 

He enjoys playing with things like Legos and Star Wars action figures. possibly because he didn’t get to when he was little.

He has quite a high pitched voice which he has difficulty controlling the depth of.

May’s comment about his body changing and him not feeling like he can fit in at a classmate’s party makes much more sense if you think of peter as trans.

Ned asks Peter if the spider venom gave him the ability to lay eggs, which is a bizarre question to begin with, but even stranger if being asked of an amab person. but this likely doesn’t have any substance as it was obviously just meant to be a funny moment, which it was, i laughed out loud all three times i heard it.

Peter doesn’t have much in the way of sideburns.

He’s pretty short.

The gym classes at Peter’s school are not separated by gender and they all wear the same uniform.

Most of his clothes are quite big on him. In my own experience, shopping in the men’s sections in stores doesn’t tend to go very well in terms of finding things that fit. Additionally, baggier clothes help to hide the chest and hip areas.

He doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Now this seems unimportant at first, but i actually think it could mean a lot, so hear me out. Considering how many clubs and extra curriculars he’s in (robotics, marching band, decathlon, etc.) he should have been to many recitals, concerts, competitions, etc that would require him to wear a tie throughout his intermediate and high school years. It’s weird that neither him nor may would know how to tie one. unless- he’s never done it before because he’d always worn the traditionally feminine uniform or formal wear. 

Now, there’s those two shirtless scenes that some people have been using to discredit the headcanon where he’s clearly muscular and flat chested with no visible scars. Well, my doubtful friends, there’s the possibility of a keyhole surgery which leaves minimal scarring. Also, the spider venom increases muscle growth and metabolism, and also gives peter a mild healing factor. This could have caused any scars he had to heal and fade completely. 

now obviously i realize not all of this inherently means he’s trans. cis guys can be short or have small hands and feet or high pitched voices or rounder hairlines, especially when they’re only 15 years old and everyone is growing at a different rate. These things just flesh out the headcanon a bit more. 

tl;dr: Peter Parker is an endlessly adorable trans boy and the hero we all need.

[canijustwritemyshit]

Transboy!Peter Parker goes to Asgard and Thor introduces him has “Peter, son of Stark, Man of Spiders, an In-Between.” The people of Asgard treat him with the highest respect, like he’s mjolnir, or an infinity stone, because they believe that in-betweens (people who are gender-fluid or trans) are made of magic.

That’s why Loki is so good at Magic, they say.

At dinner, Peter shows them some sleight-of-hand that Uncle Ben taught him, and they lose their minds.

#fic ideas

[canijustwritemyshit]

For future fics

Coming out to tony headcannons

- “Mr. Stark?”

-he’s injured.

-like very injured after a fight

-because his binder h u r t

- “It’s Tony kid- but what’s up?”

-“I have an injury? From the fight?”

-“let me see it”

-“no-“

-“let. Me. See. It.”

-he goes to the bathroom and takes off his shirt and binder and covers himself with a towel

-He lifts up the towel

-there’s bruising all over his ribs and he’s hiding his chest- but tony can see that it’s there

- ///self hate/ self transpobic speech// “I’m not a real boy?”

- “1. Bullshit, you are a real boy, and 2. How the hell do you fight like that in a binder? And 3. We’ll talk about your unsafe binding practices later because I know a thing or two about that.”

//tw over//

- Trans Tony Stark? Bet.

-Peter’s powers heal his ribs

-Tony is like “why didnt you tell me euybdindbnzjxjsks”

-and he’s like “aNxiety”

-and they talk about it

-and they install a binder in his suit

-all is good

//do not tag as ship//

[canijustwritemyshit]

He wandered, lost, confused.

'I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark.' He said.

Peter. Where was Peter?

He remembered him just melting into thin air, but where was he? 'I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark.'

He rubbed his sore eyes, burning with warrant of tears that he would not allow to drift onto his sunken cheeks.

Where was everyone? Had he done something wrong?

Strange, both Peter's, almost everyone he knew, gone. It was only him and Thor left on this dreadful, dead planet. No food, no water, very little in a way of breathable air. There wasn't even a place to sit, and that was all Tony wanted to do. Sit, and wonder, and grieve.

His son slipped through his calloused hands- literally slipped. He was lost. In a matter of hours, of only a few days at most, he'd lost everyone. Everything. He ran his fingers through his unruly, waxed hair, pulling on the individual strands.

Peter, Peter, Stephen, that blue chick. Vision. He knew Vision had to have been killed, it would have been the only way to stop this, and it was the surest reason all this had, in fact, happened.

"I'm sorry, Peter, forgive me?" He took a breath, "I'm coming for you next, Thanos, and I'm going to kill you."

I'm going to bring my son back.

#infinity war #thanos #snap #iron dad #iron man #grief #revenge #spider son #spiderman #text #fan fic #fiction #my fic #avengers

[canijustwritemyshit]

All In the Day (part 1 of I Made My Family)

"Cap, we've got a sich, here," I looked up, exasperated, as the small, and rather clingy boy adhered himself to me. I smiled to myself, quickly masking it as Steve turned to me, a question frozen on his lips, as the figure on my chest made a tiny mew in his sleep. "He's got a fever and we can't go to the doctor, on the fact of his weird DNA, and he just- I couldn't let him suffer? And his suit, Karen, is just as lost as me, and FRI is being smug, and I can't face Banner, because that'll lose my last shred of... Superiority over him... But, Pete's sick, and I don't, I-" My voice, usually strong and confident, betrayed me, lifting itself several octaves above question.

"Tone, it's ok, he'll be ok. I'll call Stephen and Banner, and we'll figure this out, but exactly how high was his fever? Was he showing any symptoms before hand? And how long ago did he start showing problems?" Steve grasped my free hand, the one not cradling this precious boy to me as a means of attempting comfort. Sometimes I thank his spidery bullshit, because he's light weight and he just sticks to things and people.

"That's why we need a doctor... His suit says 103.7, but the thermometer is saying 104... And .3 degrees is huge right now. He sort of fainted on me like three hours ago, so I ran him to the medbay and had Karen do diagnostics. She kept saying she was unfamiliar with what's wrong because of his spider DNA. FRIDAY said much the same thing. Cap? ...I'm worried..." I clutched Peter to me. I hated seeing him sick, and he was having fever-induced nightmares, he was sallow, and he looked as though he'd lost weight already.

"Shoot, um, okay, got it." Steve yanked his phone out of his pocket, dialing Banner first, from what I could tell.

"Hey... Medical emergency... No, I'm ok... No, Tone's okay... Yeah... Fever... 103.7 according to his suit, but 104 manually... Yeah, I was just about to call him... Thank you... Doors open, we're in the living room on floor 12..." He clicked another series of numbers, "Hello... Peter... High fever... Non responsive... Yes, Bruce is coming too, and yes, you will be nice... Thank you... 12th floor... Ok," he seemed to relax a bit, looked at me and stated, "Three minutes tops, Stephen said."

Peter let out another wheezy breath, and shook a little, sweat glimmering like cheap glitter body spray on his skin. There was a loud rustle and an OOF! as Banner and Stephen hurried to the couch, having just arrived through the Strange portal. Banner's brows knit together once he felt Pete's head. Gently, with Stephen's help, they tried to pry the boy off my soaked chest. It took a while but, they eventually succeeded, having had to use a remote as a fulcrum.

"Strange, know any spells that may help? Because the less time, the better." Banner asked, assessing Pete's heart rate and blood pressure. "153/90, Jesus, kid... Pulse is 128... Stephen, what are you getting on your end?"

"Blood glucose is 65... Tony, get him an orange juice and force feed him if you have to. Temperature is at 103.76. Oxygen levels are at 93%." Stephen muttered. "Did he have any wounds, any sores?" I shook my head, handing him the box of juice.

Banner paused. "Tone, when was his last vaccine?"

"I- I don't know..." I croaked, dread filling my bones like a bucket of ice water. "What's wrong? What did you find?"

"These are all symptoms of meningitis... Spiders don't have the immunity to the disease, and he hasn't had any vaccines recently." Stephen stated. "We need IV units, and a cannula with an oxygen tank."

Banner placed his hand on my shoulder, " He'll be ok. I promise."

#sick!peter #irondad and spiderson fic #irondad and spiderson #iron man #iron dad #trans spiderman #spider son #doctor strange #doctor Banner #au #series #part 1