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corroded-hellfire · 7 months

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Sniffles and Snuggles - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with my dear @munson-blurbs 💕

Older!eddie edit by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Summary: When your baby girl wakes up sick, her daddy is there to take care of her

Note: The thought of Eliza being all clingy to Eddie because she doesn’t feel well and just wants her daddy inspired this so I hope you enjoy the thoughts that just pop into my head

Words: 4k

[As You Wish Masterlist]

A familiar cry wakes you from your slumber. It’s muffled—coming from down the hall. Your eyes open in the darkness of your bedroom. Glancing over at the window you see the slightest gray creeping into the blackness of night. Morning must be rolling around you surmise as you stretch your arms out above your head. The cry sounds again and you stare up at your ceiling while you wait to see if it’s going to continue or not. There have been times where Eliza has woken up, cried out a few times simply because she wanted attention, then let it go.

Eddie’s fast asleep next to you, turned your way, giving you a clear view of the drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A soft chuckle falls out of you as you trail your gaze down to see your husband’s bare chest slowly moving up and down with his steady breaths. Another cry from your daughter breaks your focus on your sexy man though, and you push yourself out of bed to go see what’s bothering her.

The closer you get to Eliza’s room, you can hear the different noises she’s making. These aren’t just the typical cries she sometimes has in the middle of the night. There’s whining and a whimpering that’s breaking your heart.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?”

As soon as you see your one-year-old you know something is up. Her cheeks are flushed and her brown curls are matted to her forehead in sweat. She’s holding onto the bars of her crib like she’s an inmate begging to be freed from their jail cell. The moment her eyes land on you, the whining picks up and she’s scrambling for your attention.

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” you ask.

Not even making an attempt at the few words she knows how to say, Eliza simply raises her arms for you to pick her up. The heat radiating off of her little body in its pink onesie is evident the moment your hands are on her. Frowning, you hold her against your chest and gently press your lips to her forehead.

“Oh, you’re burning up, baby. Is someone not feeling well?” Eliza buries her head in your neck, and you have your answer. “Come on, you. Let’s take some medicine that’ll help you feel better.”

Intermittent sniffles come from the baby as you walk with her into the kitchen. The medicines are kept on a high shelf and there’s no way you’ll be able to rummage for what you’re looking for with your daughter in your arms. Luckily, her Disney Princess highchair is only a few feet away and you move to set her down in it. This elicits an immediate negative reaction from Eliza.

“It’s just for a second, sweetheart. Give Mommy one moment to find your medicine.” She clings to you as you try to place her in the chair, but a couple of kisses to the head and whispered assurances that you’re not going anywhere have her finally releasing her vice grip on you. As you watch her slump to the side in her seat, eyes glazed over and staring somewhere in the distance, you think her lack of strength or energy also contributed to her finally letting you go.

The children’s Tylenol is easily findable, and you pour some of the thick berry flavored syrup into a small dosage cup. Eliza eyes it warily, as if already knowing that she’s not going to like it. She wrinkles her nose up as the blue medicine comes closer to her and her whines start up again.

“This is going to help you feel better, my love. I promise.” You can’t blame Eliza for her cranky attitude, but you just wish she’d believe you and take the medicine without issue. But since when do children behave that way? Especially the children of Eddie Munson.

“Come on,” you say as you set the little cup on the tray of her highchair. “It’ll be over really quick. You might even like how it tastes.”

After a few more whiny protests and some cranky writhing in her seat, Eliza stares down at the liquid that might give her some relief. You’re pretty sure you can see the resignation in her brown eyes as gazes at the medicine.

“Here we go.” You lift the small cup up to her lips—which she begrudgingly opens—and tilt it up so the Tylenol pours into her mouth. The moment it’s all swallowed and Eliza closes her mouth, her face scrunches up in revulsion and she shakes her head. It doesn’t seem right to laugh when your daughter is feeling so lousy, but you can’t help but let out a chuckle at her visceral reaction to the taste. “Why don’t we watch a movie, huh? One of your favorites.”

Eliza’s body heat takes you by surprise again as you lift her from her chair. Her head lolls onto your shoulder as you walk into the living room and snatch up the movie on the top of the pile. The Little Mermaid disc isn’t in the case, and it doesn’t shock you at all. It’s probably already in the player, all ready to go.

You scoop up the remote on the way to the couch and click on the television. Eliza’s curls tickle your chin as you hit the buttons that will lead you to the DVD screen. As suspected, The Little Mermaid is in there and ready to be watched for the thousandth time.

“Here we go,” you say, snuggling into the couch with her. “Let’s watch Ariel, yeah?” You’re hoping that the medicine will allow her to get some more sleep. The way she holds herself to your body lets you know she wants to be cuddled. Adjusting yourself so that it’s comfortable for the both of you, you lean back and kick your feet up on the coffee table, allowing Eliza to use your torso as her bed. Her big eyes turn towards the television at the familiar sounds of her favorite movie. One of your hands goes to her tiny back, rubbing reassuring and calming circles, while the other gently strokes her soft downy hair.

You’re fighting sleep when you hear the heavy-footed sound of Eddie padding out to the living room. His hair is a mess, curls askew, and he scratches at his stubble as he yawns.

“What’re my sweet girls doing up at this hour?” he asks softly, re-tying the strings of his plaid pajama pants.

You return his yawn with a weary smile. “Someone is sick and spiked a fever, so I’m just laying with her until the Tylenol kicks in,” you explain, kissing your baby’s sweaty curls.

Eddie looks at you, kindness and empathy still radiating from his tired eyes. “Babe, you look exhausted.” He leans down to try and take Eliza from your embrace, frowning when you pull back. “Let me help.”

“S’okay, Eds. I got it.”

“But you need to sleep so you can go to work tomorrow,” he protests.

Noting that you’re distracted by the conversation at hand, Eliza takes advantage and wriggles from your grasp. She plops her head down on a nearby pillow and almost immediately falls asleep, congested snores emanating from her tiny nostrils.

You furrow your brow, lowering your voice so you don’t disturb your daughter’s slumber. “No, I’m staying home with her. You go into work.”

“I have more vacation days saved up,” he points out, holding out his arms. “Hand me the child and go back to bed.”

You give in, too tired to argue further, kissing him and Eliza before trudging back to bed. You look over your shoulder before you head down the hall, back to your bedroom. Eddie has made himself comfortable on one side of the couch, placing a throw pillow on his lap. He carefully maneuvers Eliza so she can curl up in the same position, rubbing gentle circles on her back to try and break up some of the congestion. It’s not his first rodeo with a sick kid, and based on his older children’s experiences, it won’t be his last.

When your alarm goes off an hour later, you feel anything but rested. Your muscles ache as your body all but begs for more sleep, but you try to shove away the discomfort with a warm shower. It helps somewhat, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t almost fall asleep standing up.

The family room is quiet; the only sound is the soft hum of the DVD player whirring, the movie long over. Eddie is sprawled out on the couch, his long limbs flung in every direction over the furniture like an overgrown starfish. Eliza, always one to copy her daddy, is spread out on top of his chest. They’re both snoring, though you truly can’t be sure which one of them is louder.

Trying to make the least amount of noise possible, you head into the kitchen and prepare breakfast for yourself and the boys. You know the drill by now: cereal for Ryan, Eggos for Luke. This particular morning though, you don’t think you’ll be able to ingest anything other than a large cup of coffee.

The ringing of two alarm clocks faintly reaches you in the kitchen. Knowing it takes both of them a minute—or a few in Luke’s case—to get out of bed, you know you have time to finish prepping the food before you head down the hall to intercept them. You have to inform them that on this side of the house there are two sleeping beauties currently sawing wood.

“Hey,” you say in a hushed tone as you meet up with the boys in front of their rooms. “Daddy and Eliza are sleeping on the couch. You have to be quiet, okay?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Ryan grumbles, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand. Sometimes his preteen moments popped up when you were least able to handle them.

“Why are they on the couch?” Luke asks, voice lower for him, but still a bit loud.

“Eliza isn’t feeling well, and they must’ve fallen asleep waiting for her medicine to kick in,” you explain.

“Is she okay?” Ryan asks.

“She’s fine, sweetie. Just some sniffles,” you tell him. “Now come on, your breakfasts are ready.”

Most of breakfast manages to go smoothly and quietly, until Luke drops his fork on the ground, and it lands on the linoleum with a definitive clang. Your second oldest winces as he turns to you. “Sorry,” he silently mouths. Honestly, you had expected him to make a bigger noise than that at some point, so this is nothing.

Once they finish their breakfast, you usher the boys down the hall and tell them to get ready for school. You finish getting ready for work as well. It’s hard to focus on doing your hair or finding a pair of shoes when you know your baby girl is sick in the other room. But you know she’ll be fine; she’s with Eddie. Super Dad. Being a mom came with a boatload of anxieties, but Eddie always managed to make everything better and less stressful. You joke to him all the time that some magic must’ve rubbed off on him after all the times he’s played D&D throughout his life.

You finish getting ready the same time the boys do, and you see them slipping on their backpacks in the family room. They make no noise, yet their presence in the room must have been enough because both Eddie and Eliza stir from their nap.

“How are you feeling, Eliza?” Ryan asks, tone still soft and low.

His baby sister’s only response is to heave an overdramatic sigh, very reminiscent of her father.

“Feel better!” Luke chirps with far too much enthusiasm.

With an irritated whine, Eliza puts her hands over her tiny ears at her brother’s loud volume. She buries her face in Eddie’s chest, signaling that the conversation with her siblings is over. Eddie uses one hand to caress his daughter's brown locks, hoping it will calm and relax her, and waves to his sons with the other.

“Have a good day at school, guys,” he tells them. The two of them wave back and say their goodbyes before they head out the front door to get to their bus stop down on the corner of the street.

It’s your turn to leave now and you really don’t want to. This is the hardest you’ve ever had to push yourself to get out of the house and go to work. A restless night’s sleep or a massive headache making you not want to go in is nothing compared to knowing your child is home sick.

Once you have everything ready to go, you walk over and lean down to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I gotta go now, baby. But I don’t wanna.” You give him the most adorable pout that has a smile lighting up his tired face.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he tells you. “Have a good day at work. Though it won’t be as amazing as Eliza-Daddy Day.”

“I’m very jealous that I don’t get to be a part of it.” You smile down at your daughter, who has fallen back asleep, and admire the adorable features that she’s inherited from the both of you. “I’ll see you guys later. I love you.”

“We love you too, baby. I love you more, though. But don’t tell Eliza I said that; she’s a very territorial little girl.”

Chuckling, you lean down and press one more kiss to your husband’s lips. “Bye, baby.”

Eddie dozes on and off as he stays as still as possible on the couch so as not to wake the baby. It’s certainly not the most comfortable position, but he’ll be damned if his daughter is awake because of him. He keeps one hand on her back; she’s so little underneath it, and he’s suddenly overcome with a fierce urge to protect her.

Eliza eventually wakes up around lunchtime, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Her face crumples when she tries to breathe in through her nose and realizes that she can’t.

Eddie sits up a bit straighter, keeping his daughter close to his chest. “How ya feeling, baby girl?”

“Uck,” she grunts out, swiping messily at her runny nose.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asks before deciding for her. “You need to eat something.”

He picks her up and starts to set her in a flowery pink baby walker—surprisingly, Luke had been the one to pick it out at Babies R Us—but Eliza is in no mood to be put down. She lets out a whine that sounds more like a shriek.

Eddie winces at the piercing noise, instinctively bringing her against his chest again. “Hey, hey, what is it?” he softly asks, but she just whimpers and hides her face in his neck.

“Dada.”

“Sweet pea, I was just gonna go into the kitchen to get us some lunch,” he tries to explain, knowing full well that it’s next to useless. “You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

Eliza shakes her head against his body and sniffles pathetically. “Nooooo. Dada!”

Eddie sighs, giving in to the prospect that the two of them will be attached at the hip all day. “Okay, Lize, you can come with me,” he acquiesces. “We can make a mess of the kitchen together.” He lowers his voice before adding, “just don’t tell Mommy.”

He makes two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with one hand, the other holding on to Eliza’s diapered butt while he works “And they said I had no talent. Ha.”

“Goo Dada.”

Eddie’s glad he understands her normal baby talk enough, because interpretation is even harder now that she’s congested.

“I did good? Why, thank you.” He hands her a piece of sandwich and she immediately drops it on the ground.

“Eliza!”

She crosses her tiny arms and twists her whole body back and forth in protest. “Ucky.”

“Lize, you love peanut butter—”

“UCKY!”

“Okay, no peanut butter for you today,” Eddie mutters, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth. “Let’s see what else we got.”

There isn’t a whole lot in the freezer, but Eddie spots a box of frozen Italian ice cups and pulls it out. He flips the lid open and purses his lips when he only sees a few yellow cups inside.

“Guess your brothers ate all the cherry ones,” he grumbles as he rummages through the box, just to make sure he didn’t miss a red one. “Looks like we just have lemon left.” He makes an unamused face, but Eliza reaches out and grabs it anyway. “You want—y’know what? Sure.”

Eddie grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and uses his foot to pull Eliza’s high chair over to the kitchen table—lest they be too far apart from each other and Eliza gets all fussy again. She willingly complies since she sees her Daddy will be sitting right in front of her. He pops open the lid of the frozen treat and sets it on the tray in front of her.

“All right, this is gonna be sour,” he warns, but she still eagerly accepts the bite.

Her lips pucker immediately, her nose scrunching up like a bunny at the strange sensation on her tongue.

Eddie lets out a laugh at the adorable and hilarious expression on her little face. “I told you! You want that sandwich now?”

Face still pinched up, Eliza vehemently shakes her head.

“Mo!” Eliza stretches out her hand towards the cup.

“I’ll be damned,” Eddie muses, but he obliges. She makes the same expression with each bite, but she eats nearly half of the serving before declaring, “no mo!”

Eddie gets Eliza cleaned up, not worrying about the mess in the kitchen right now. He’ll take care of it later, as he’s sure the sick girl will take many naps today.

He picks his daughter up out of her highchair and holds her on his hip. “Whatcha wanna do now?”

Eliza lets out a wet little baby cough and gives a shake of her head.

“You don’t know?” Eddie asks. “Hmm. Ah, I’ve got it.”

He stands up, balancing Eliza on his side. She lays her head on his shoulder while he walks into her princess-themed room, using his elbow to flick on the overhead light.

“Okay,” he says, kissing her temple, “let’s see what we’ve got.” He quickly scans the little bookshelf next to her bed to find her favorite story. With a triumphant grin, he plucks The Poky Little Puppy from its spot.

He tucks himself into the rocking chair, settling in and shifting his daughter into his lap. Reaching behind him, he grabs the bright pink throw blanket and drapes it over her, digging his toes into the carpet to gently sway back and forth.

Eliza is enraptured by her dad reading her favorite book to her, eyes wide as she clings to every syllable. She usually falls asleep to it, conditioned from countless nights where it’s been used as a bedtime story, but she’s still fresh from her nap. Besides, she’s having too much fun with this daddy-daughter bonding to be sleepy.

She only gets fussy again once Eddie closes the book, her symptoms more prominent without the distraction of Eddie’s story-telling skills.

“I think it’s time for another dose of medicine, baby girl,” Eddie whispers, trying to appear enthusiastic despite his own waning energy levels.

She downs the syrup easily, so out of sorts that she doesn’t even process its rancid taste until after it’s done. Eddie laughs at her contorted face, plopping down on the couch. “All right, my brave little girl,” he says as he grabs the remote, “what should we watch?”

The mere question brings a tiny spark to Eliza’s eyes, giving her just enough energy to bounce in her dad’s lap and point at the TV. “Mermah!”

“The Little Mermaid again?”

Eliza nods and Eddie internally groans. It’s a cute movie, but he’s pretty sure he could recite it line for line at this point.

“Okay, let’s go under the sea,” he says as he starts the movie from the beginning, settling in to listen to Sebastian belt out “Under the Sea” for the umpteenth time.

Still curled up into his chest, no indication of moving anytime soon, Eliza wipes her runny nose on her dad’s t-shirt. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the screen as she rubs her nose against the soft cotton with a sniffle.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Welcuh.”

Eliza settles her head on the middle of her father’s chest and watches the different colored fish and sea life all gather together at the concert for King Triton. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention, mostly just focusing on how the little girl’s breathing is sounding and trying to keep her body supported up against his.

But Eddie’s ears perk up when a familiar little voice joins in with the singing on screen. Ariel is singing “Part of Your World” and there’s a small, congested mumble singing alongside her. Eddie grins to himself as he listens to his daughter’s rendition.

“Schingamabobs? Gots twenny. Bu’ who cawes? No bih deal. I wan’ mooooooo.”

All the times Eddie insisted on singing to Eliza while she was in your womb have seemed to pay off. She’s a little musical prodigy after his own heart.

“You wanna be a mermaid, Lize?” Eddie asks her softly. She nods in response, never taking her eyes off of the television screen.

Eddie half-heartedly watches the movie with her from that point forward. When it comes to the scene of Ariel using a fork as a comb for her hair at the dinner table, Eliza reaches up and begins to play with her own hair. Silky brown curls slip through her little fingers as she absentmindedly strokes her locks. Eddie would love to know what’s going on inside her head right now. Is she thinking of trying to use a fork as a comb? When Eliza brings a few pieces of her hair in front of her face to study, Eddie has another thought. He wonders if she wants to have the same red hair as her favorite Disney princess. To show her that he loves her hair just the way it is, Eddie presses a few soft kisses to the top of her head.

As the movie progresses, Eliza becomes stiller on Eddie’s chest, and she’s not made a peep in a while. Her father watches her tiny back move up and down and sees it’s going in a slow, steady rhythm. As if to further prove his suspicion that she’s asleep, the sounds of her stuffy snores reach Eddie’s ears, making him smile.

Eliza stirs a bit, wiggling around in an attempt to get comfortable in a new position. Eddie gently wraps his arm around her to rub her little back in calming circles. Within seconds, she’s out like a light again.

“Daddy’s always gonna be here for you, Liza Bean,” he murmurs against her scalp, sweaty from fever. He takes a deep breath and settles in.

Neither he nor Eliza wake when you return home, both of them sound asleep on the couch. The kitchen is a mess; there’s a random piece of sandwich on the floor and a melted lemon Italian ice on the table, but clean-up can wait for a moment.

You watch the two of them breathe in tandem, heart soaring at the way your daughter curls up into her dad with all the love and trust in the world.

Fatherhood looks perfect on him, you think, but wrinkle your nose upon further inspection, but the booger stains on his shirt definitely do not.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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shingisimp · 2 years

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Hii ! could I request choi san as boyfriend headcanon, please?

hello my love! sorry this took me so long <3

• san would wake you up every morning with forehead kisses. or if he couldn't be with you first thing, he'd have to text you or call.

• "g'morning baby, how'd you sleep?" you smile at his gruff voice, heavy with the weight of sleep.

• ah butterflies 🦋

• his morning voice 🥺

• but he would expect some kisses and affection back (or at the bare minimum he'd want you to play with his hair and call him handsome), which isn't hard as the satisfied hums that would surface as a result are music to your ears.

• san is a cuddler first thing in the morning, and he will hold you against him in a vice grip until he is ready to start the day.

• would hold your hand until he'd made his first cup of coffee.

• "your hands are warm," he'd mumble, humming happily into the crook of your neck as his coffee brewed.

• basically just a soft babie.

• he'd be the type to send you morning selfies, videos, audio messages with his sleepy eyes, fluffy hair and deep voice, heavy with the burden of waking.

• he'd send you photos of himself picking up his coffee if he woke up late, posing with his pout against the cup's straw.

• "miss you baby, text me when you're awake"

• basically always keeping you up to date with his day with photos and texts.

• clingy in an adorable manner!!

• this man would be so enamoured with you 🥺

• he'd leap when you send him a message back, smiling at the screen.

• when san loves, he loves deep. he throws his whole heart and soul into loving you. it's beautiful, intense, overwhelming love.

• when he'd come back from a long day of dance practice and comeback prep, he'd wrap you tight in a lazy hug.

• "san!" you cheer, watching his figure lunge towards you and his arms wrap you in a hug. "mhm, baby, I missed you," he mumbles, pressing his face into the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet scent. he remembers your perfume like the back of his hand, and it never fails to relax him.

• you are his energy.

• he'd pepper lingering kisses down your neck, and you'd melt in his hold.

• naturally his hands would... wander.

• his favourite part of you to hold would be your ass.

• he'd pull you against his body, hands spread over your ass, or slid into the back pockets of your jeans.

• "hey, sannie, hands," you scold, but he simply pulls his face from your skin and sends you a cheeky smirk. "what about them, baby? they're having the time of their lives right now,"

• speaking of you in jeans 🤩

• he'd love it when you'd wear his favourite pair that accentuate your... assets.

• kisses would always turn into make-out sessions

• and make-out sessions would 9 times out of 10 lead to sex.

• but with san it was always enjoyable.

• if he was tired, you'd ride him as he'd gently hold your hips to guide you.

• he'd be super vocal 😵

• "fuck, baby, feels s-so good," he stutters, burying his face in your chest to muffle his moans before clashing your lips together in a messy kiss.

• whiny-ish if he's tired.

• but if he's awake,,

• oh my goodness.

• san wouldn't be satisfied until you were.

• his pleasure is your pleasure, always prioritises you.

• he'd love to eat you out.

• like a lot.

• like a lot a lot.

• "you taste delightful, baby," san groans against your skin, hands spreading your thighs apart wider.

• it fills him with pride.

• and then he'd fuck you dumb on his cock.

• and he'd make sure you know whose cock is fucking you dumb.

• definitely would like to be called 'daddy' (daddy issues hello)

• "good girl, taking daddy's cock like a good little slut"

• 😵

• aftercare with san would be a lot of cuddles, soft kisses, praise, body worship etc.

• "you're perfection, baby,"

• he'd be so honoured that you share your body with him, and no matter how kinky you two would get, he'd always always make sure you know how grateful he is for you.

• he'd be the perfect boyfriend.

• he'd protect you from everything, making sure you don't burn out or keep things bottled up.

• san <3

• as his name suggests, he is a mountain to his competition, but a warm, comforting hill to the ones he loves.

• it would be super important to give him the love you receive.

• and he'd tell you he loves you a lot.

• love language would be physical, and I imagine he'd find a lot of meaning in sex (even the super kinky stuff, maybe that even more so due to the amount of trust you give in those moments).

• he'd love to take photos with you and save them as his lock/home screen of his phone to show off to the guys

• you would be his number one!!!

• that big heart has even more love to give <3

• matching outfits, matching jewellery, matching colours and styles.

• match with san and he'd melt 😍

• and wear his clothes!!

• in fact he'd insist upon it to watch your figure swim in his shirts and joggers.

• "perfect," he'd smile, pressing a kiss to your lips after smoothing the fabric of his t-shirt you wore. "now everyone knows you're mine, wearing my t-shirt,"

• possessive!!!

• he wouldn't be cute about it either...

• he'd kiss you deeply in front of anyone who stares at you for too long, or leave marks on your neck (where he loves to bury his face) to show you're claimed.

he just hates the thought of losing you

• I also imagine he'd get you a promise ring/bracelet/necklace, something to signify his promise of forever love and care to you 🥺

• to conclude, choi san is both the perfect person and boyfriend 💖

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droplet-dread-cat · 2 years

Text

imagine an AU where Natsuo and Tomura are painfully aware Dabi's Todoroki Touya and think everyone else knows it too but they just don't speak about it because it's uncomfortable for all parties involved

Natsuo, to Shouto after Shouto's class was attacked by Dabi: Man, you gotta hand it to Touya - even after (presumably accidentally) faking his death, he's still holding on tight to his principles. Well, as much as fratricide can be a principle.

And Shouto just thinks it's either a sick joke or a conspiracy theory lmao

Natsuo, casually leaving this message on Endeavor's phone: Hey, so uh... I saw you just got pummeled by Touya on live TV. Not that I don't appreciate the method acting but you two are taking it a bit too far, don't you think? Like, I know you've got your little dramatic hero versus villain thing going on but the property destruction rates are getting out of hand. When you see Touya the next time, tell him I said hi and that he needs to watch where he's aiming his fire. Also, for fuck's sake, tell him to properly clean between his skin grafts and his healthy skin! And uh... guess as a good son I'd have to tell you to recover soon... so I won't. Bye.

and then there's Tomura

Tomura, visibly cringing at what he presumes to be a LARPing moment between Endeavor and Dabi: This is so overdramatic, what the hell.

and then

Tomura, snapping one day: By god, can you please for a moment stop letting your daddy issues run the show? I'm trying to lead an anarchist movement against the government and all you think about is how to kill off your old man! It's getting old, to be honest.

The rest of the League, including Dabi, staring in open-mouthed shock at Tomura: :0

One day, Natsuo just appears in the League hideout because he's sick of waiting for Touya to make his first move.

Natsuo, with a gigantic care package under his arm: I know, I know. You hate it when I don't give you time to do things on your own but, seriously Touya, ten years? That's a bit excessive even for you.

Spinner, eyeing Dabi: I'm starting to think our leader might be onto something when he called Dabi Endeavor's son...

Tomura, absolutely done with trying to point out the extremely obvious connection between Endeavor and Dabi (and still kinda thinking everyone's trying to pull his leg when they say he's crazy for thinking Dabi's Touya): Hello, I'm Shigaraki Tomura. You must be Dabi's brother, right? He doesn't tell us shit about you because he's denying being Todoroki Touya. At this point, I'm tempted to kick him out of the League because it makes me cringe way too hard and my eczema can't handle being pulled apart by appalled expressions so much. I researched your family. You're a med student, right? We're in desperate need for a healer, please join us and set your brother straight. Please.

Natsuo, who's been committing arson against anyone who funds Endeavor or his merch since he was thirteen: Yeah, sure. But what do you mean he's denying being Touya? It's painfully obvious he is! He's not even trying to mask ANY of his distinct features. The eyes that are the same colour as Endeavor's? The blue fire quirk? The obvious way too deep hatred for our dad? The bad hair dye? The fact that his lashes are dark red? The tap dance thingy he's been doing? Of course, you couldn't know about the last thing but I'm starting to think everyone's an idiot. It's so obvious. Touya, you didn't think I wouldn't recognize you, did you? Cuz if you did you're even more oblivious than Shouto.

Tomura, smiling genuinely for the first time in ten years: Natsuo, I know you've been a part of the League for less than a minute but I'm promoting you to vice commander. Dabi, fuck off, your brother is clearly superior in every way. Hey, Natsuo, do you have a Steam acc?

#mha au #my hero academia #dabi #mha #bnha #todoroki touya #mha au idea #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #todoroki natsuo

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acefaun · 2 years

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Hi! I truly love how deep your writing is and how you grasp the emotional complexity in your stories, so I wondering if you were okay with writing a story with Scorpio and an MC with daddy issues 😅. (Like- her father would always belittle her problems, yelling at her whenever she happened to cry and forcing her to fake smile) and "thanks" to him, she doesn't want to cry in front of people anymore. (Also- I don't want to limit your creativity, but would you mind if they were a couple in that story?) Thank you for your time and I'm sorry if I triggered you in some way!

Scorpio~ A Shoulder to Cry On

Synopsis: Children are raised to think certain things growing up. For example, you’d been convinced that crying would only lead to bad things and that faking a smile would give the best results. But dating Scorpio, a god that can hear your every emotion, is a new challenge. After all, there are only two choices: refuse to touch your boyfriend, or let him inside your heart.

✨Masterlist✨

Female goldfish!

A/N: I grasp emotional complexity because I am the EPITOME of emotional complexity—as are most well-seasoned fanfic writers/readers. MC can have daddy issues, we’ll have something in common. (◕‿◕✿) Scorpio’s gonna have to fix this mess. Poor, poor, Scorpio.

–Word Count: 2,700–

Scorpio was always busy, I knew that from our first few interactions. He was the Vice Minister of his department and I knew from the start of our relationship that he would have priorities over me. It wasn't like he viewed humans favorably, anyway. I knew I was different in his eyes, he constantly reminded me of it.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel like something was lacking as I walked away from the mansion as the sun was going down. My head knew he was doing his job while my heart selfishly wanted to take all of his attention for myself. He was my boyfriend; I felt I had some right to feel the way I did. But as a human in a relationship with a god, I wondered if I had any rights at all.

“(Name)!”

I froze, turning hesitantly to face the mansion once again. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Scorpio racing to catch up. “Hey…” I wanted to tell him to go back and do his work, but I couldn’t find the words.

“It’s getting dark outside. Where are you going?”

“You seemed busy,” I answered, at least being honest with him. “I thought I’d walk myself home.” Communication was a weak point in our relationship, but somehow we made it work. It probably helped that Scorpio could read my feelings so easily when he held my hand. That is… when I was feeling confident enough to let him touch me.

He sighed, holding his hand out for me once again. “If you’re going home next time, tell me so that problem child doesn’t come banging on my door to let me know you’re walking in the dark. Let me take you home.”

“Ichthys did that?” I passed a hand through my hair. Of course he was the one to tell Scorpio what I was doing. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I was trying not to do that…”

I couldn’t help but avert my eyes as I noticed disappointment flicker through his gaze… or was that some other emotion? “Hey,” he called my attention back to him. “I thought I told you it was fine to come and find me when I’m working. I can handle my work later, but if you get hurt because you did something stupid without telling me… That’s something that can’t wait until later.”

I was only trying to walk home; I didn’t think he’d make such a big deal out of it. Scorpio was the first man in my life to tell me what was important to him. Even if I thought it wasn’t enough to worry about, Scorpio thought differently. Of course, I assumed this was only a god thing.

Still, I somehow disappointed Scorpio. The urge to rectify our interaction made me react immediately. “Do you think I could stay the night?” As abrupt as the question was, a slight smile tugged on the corners of my lips as I tried to downplay my sense of failure. “I promise, I'll do better next time.”

He was caught off guard by my sudden change in attitude, but he nodded his head. Having me stay the night never upset him before and he enjoyed having me close. Even as a god, he liked sleeping at night—but he loved sleeping with me in his arms. Knowing I was safe with him made him feel relaxed.

He nodded his head, letting me join him back in the mansion. “You can stay any time, don't worry about it.” If anyone had a problem, he'd deal with them.

***

Scorpio was still sleeping when I woke up with a growling stomach. I would've asked him to join me for breakfast, but he always looked at peace when he was sleeping. While I didn't think he would mind my asking, I didn't want to be a bother to him.

I was expecting a calm morning of eating in the kitchen. I didn't think I'd be stopped before I even reached the kitchen door. The minute Zyglavis laid eyes on me he was already questioning me, “I suspect Scorpio is still sleeping then?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I didn't want to bother him. But I'm sure if you need him, he'll be up quickly.”

Zyglavis sighed, that wasn't the point of his visit. “I'm not concerned about my Vice Minister’s human sleep schedule. You need to have care on how you act with a god. The King may have granted you permission to be together, but Scorpio is still a god and he has work to attend to. Don’t unnecessarily take up his time. If you can’t respect the work of the gods, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to limit your time together.

Limit our time together? My brain hyper-focused on those sole words. Did that mean he’d make us break up if I didn't get my act together? Still, despite the harsh words, I smiled weakly and nodded through his threats. “I understand. I won’t get in Scorpio’s way anymore. I didn’t mean to be such a burden.” But I didn’t want to lose the only man who truly loved me.

Zyglavis was surprised by how I’d twisted his words into some cruel meaning. It wasn’t his intention to make me think my entire relationship was at stake just because I had a few habits that could easily be fixed with time. Regardless, he didn’t want me getting the wrong idea. “(Name) (Last Name), that’s not what I meant to-”

“What the hell?” Scorpio grumbled, already beside me and on the defensive. He and Zyglavis had their fair share of chats about his relationship with a human. Scorpio didn’t want to drag me into this. “I heard your lecturing from down the hall; but to my girlfriend? I thought I told you I was taking care of things. You didn’t need to find her while I wasn’t around.”

“It’s fine, Scorpio,” I said, trying to wave his excitement. I didn’t need either of them to get upset or start yelling, but my smile was throwing them off. Zyglavis knew how he must have sounded, and Scorpio was wondering if I was really okay with Zyglavis telling me that our time together was limited. Did I or did I not want this relationship to work? “I’m just a human,” I tried to excuse it as if it were some menial thing that any of the gods would understand. “I’m just selfish. I was asking for too much from a god. You shouldn’t worry about me, your work’s important.”

First of all, Zyglavis knew I took his words way out of proportion. He was giving me a small warning, not meaning for me to want to break up with Scorpio—is that what was happening? He couldn’t even tell. So, Zyglavis tried to ease the tension. “I hadn’t intended for you to reach this conclusion. I think you should take into consideration what I’ve said and talk with Scorpio.”

Sensing the declining situation, Scorpio immediately tried to grab my arm to keep me from leaving, but I dodged him, my smile faltering for a brief minute. “Please, don’t touch me.” This time, it wasn’t for Zyglavis’ sake. I just didn’t want Scorpio reading my mind, and he knew that much as he watched me flee. There had to have been more he could have done. He’ll have to do better in the future.

***

When he thought deep on me and my personality, he had never seen me without some kind of smile. Recently, it looked strained, but he’d rather know what I was truly feeling than sit there and wonder what that smile was supposed to be hiding. Why was I always avoiding his touch? It didn’t sit well with him.

Trying to find me after I uncharacteristically abandoned him was more trouble than it should have been worth. Of course, he should have thought to check my apartment first, but he was confused about what he was hearing upon first walking in.

“I’m smiling, I am. I promise I-” My voice cracked. The distress was getting harder to cover up. “He doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to care. My problems are so much more insignificant than a god’s. He’s just think I’m so pathetic,” my voice trailed off, followed by broken sobs and a quiet, “I’m not crying… I’m not…”

He couldn’t stand seeing this. He never felt this way before, but his heart felt intensely uncomfortable as he watched my sad form curled into the arm of my sofa with a pillow mercilessly clutched in my arms. Still, he tried not to startle me as he called my name softly, “(Name).”

“Scorpio?” My voice hitched with my breath as I tried frantically wiping at my face despite the ceaseless tears. My attempted smile was even worse for wear. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m just- this is-”

“Shut up.” He didn’t yell, but his tone made the tears flood my eyes to the point where I couldn’t see anything more than a blur in front of me. “You’re not okay, and I don’t want you pretending you are.” He sat beside me, my red eyes trained on him the whole time. “You said not to touch you… But I’m shit at trying to comfort people with my words. I can’t help you since you’re not giving me much to work with.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you? I’m gonna do my damned best to make sure you’re not feeling like shit, got it?” He winced, the words were coming out harsher than he wanted. He grumbled quietly, “Can I just hug you already and get this over with?”

I didn’t want to, but he really wanted to make me feel better. I just didn’t want to overload him with my insignificant feelings. I didn’t want him to get upset about things that weren’t important to him. He didn’t need to know how Zyglavis’ words made me feel like I shouldn’t be with him.

It was just like my dad always said… I was always pushing my problems onto other people when they had bigger problems in the world. All those talks and speeches were just leading up to the final realization that my problems could never concern or be acknowledged by a god when their problems literally concerned the world.

I didn’t answer, which made me twice as terrified when he suddenly wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest. It felt like a place I wanted to be, but didn’t deserve to have. “Shut up,” he muttered, though, I wasn’t exactly sure he was talking to me. “I want those annoying voices to shut up and listen to me.” His grip tightened fractionally. “The only problems that’ll concern me are yours because you’re my world. I don’t give a damn what anyone told you, they’re freaking wrong.”

“I don’t-”

“You’re crying!” He couldn’t believe that I was seriously going to deny having any problems.

“N- No…” I paused, trying my best to show my teeth with a grin. “Look. I’m smiling. See? I can smile. You don’t have to be mad. Please…” I whimpered, and he pulled me into him, holding my head against his shoulder as I cried, “Please, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he whispered, knowing exactly the fear and chaos going on in my head. “You can cry as much as you want. Tell me… What’s wrong?”

“I’m so selfish,” I whined, my hands desperately grabbing his uniform. “I’m such a horrible, selfish human. I can’t have a god, but I don’t want to let you go. I don’t ever want you to leave me. I should’ve never started dating a god.”

Did I mean it? No; and Scorpio knew that. He could feel that I’d be much more broken if I didn’t have him there holding me like I was falling apart at the seams in front of him. “Be selfish for me. If you won’t be selfish, then I will. I’m too greedy to let you go now.” Why did he want a problematic human so badly if he hated my fake smiles? “I love you.”

He was honest, and he held me crying in his arms until I ran out of tears to cry. It was quiet as he left me laying drowsily on his chest as he leaned back on the sofa. He wasn’t ready to leave anymore than I was ready to let him go. For some reason… it felt nice to just be able to cry. My head didn’t hurt, but I felt thoroughly exhausted from feeling everything. Now, the only emotion left was how tired as I was from bawling my eyes out.

“Scorpio…?” I said tiredly.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t think it’s pathetic that I cried because of what Zyglavis said? That I cried because I just… love you too much and get scared because I keep getting reminded that I’m a human.” My words were almost jumbled together, but Scorpio understood the meaning behind me words, even as I weakly continued to ask, “You’re not upset that I couldn’t just ignore my problems and that I had to bother you with them? I’m sure gods have bigger problem’s than humans… I feel small compared to you.”

“No,” he would never belittle my problems. I was a brighter world for him and he would take care of everything—the minor problems and the big ones. “Your feelings are real and I’m gonna be here to feel all of them with you—It doesn’t matter how big or small you think they are.” Of course, when he said he’d be sharing my feelings, he also meant literally. It only took a touch for him to acutely feel what I felt.

“Thanks,” I breathed. I loved him almost more than humanly possible. I never wanted to lose the one person who made me feel like my feelings were something more than a burden. Now relaxed and free from the internal stress that was holding me down, my eyes were drifting shut from all the excessive crying I’d done.

Scorpio’s fingers gently stroked the wetness from my lashes. If I ever needed to cry, he’d be there to wipe the tears away. “I promise… I’ll be a better man in your life. I’ll try my best and always give you a shoulder to cry on. And if anyone else makes you cry… well… that’s another problem I can fix.” In all my worrying about dating a god, I hadn’t noticed that I was inwardly comparing Scorpio to my dad the whole time… But Scorpio noticed how I seemed to let it all go with my tears. I resigned myself to the fact that I had someone who unconditionally supported me whether I was smiling or crying and that was all I needed.

#star crossed myth #star crossed myth fanfic #scm scorpio #fanfic #voltage fanfic #zodiac gods #department of punishments #star crossed myth imagines

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dizzydispatch · 9 months

Text

My journey towards self-actualization began with Mamma Mia and ended with me becoming the love of my own life.

(long post, TW: mention of SA, description of PTSD events, themes of religious trauma, allusion to mild body image issues)

Growing up, whenever I watched read anything that featured or even implied premarital sex, I got this sinking, disappointed feeling, like a parent finding condoms in the shoebox under their teenager’s bed. It a this sort of disapproving sadness that somewhat tainted everything I read or watched that had such content or notations. It felt like betrayal, a loss of representation in every character who ignorantly committed these sins, unwary of how harmful the simple act of something as socially normalized as premarital sex was.

Sex was forbidden, but not taboo. My parents discussed the matter liberally with me, with the conversational condition that it was a beautiful and holy institution ONLY when indulged within the confines of traditional Christian marriage. So, I didn’t want to have it. I didn’t have sexual urges. I was a good girl, wrapped in the Holy Spirit, freed from sex as a vice, an obsession, a possibility.

In fact, I was so obsessed with the idea of a sanctified chastity that the principle of it became more of a vice to me than the pursuit of sex ever would have been. I had been warned that men (or, in my case, boys) only wanted one thing, and were so pathologically obsessed with it that a good man could be tempted and thus forever laced into the shoes of a deviant, even a rapist, just from seeing my exposed midriff. It didn’t matter that my particular midriff didn’t hold much (if any) sex appeal to my peers, because the presentation of absolutely anything “sexual” was sufficient motivation to ruin both him, this hypothetical boy/man with weak to no control over his primal urges, and me, the chalice of holiness whose very worth was, in no small part, dictated by the virginal status I held.

When I was seventeen, I went to see Mamma Mia 2 in theaters. My mother and maternal grandmother and I made it into a “girls’ night” in celebration of Grandma’s visit to our (the better) side of the States. It was strange, experiencing such a sexually-oriented film with the two women who most often told me how beautiful a “pure” bride was on her wedding night. Especially since these very women were now fawning over a movie that so heavily centered around the lead-up to a teen pregnancy that resulted in a single mother raising her daughter on an island without any of her potential baby-daddies even knowing she’d been expecting. I didn’t know it, but a seed had been planted while I sat in that theater, and it was about to be watered by my craven need for freedom and the innate desire for self-actualization.

The next day, I was home with my mother, doing chores. The events of the night before inspired me to play the first Mamma Mia movie while she ironed and I pretended I cared about the state of my bedroom. In reality, I was listening in rapt awe to “Honey Honey,” the scene where Sophie (the protagonist, former teen mother Donna’s now grown daughter) was reading her mother’s diary from the summer before her birth. In between narrating to her friends the portions alluding to three incidents that were each equally likely to be responsible for Donna’s pregnancy, she sang a song that celebrated the revelations, wondering which man could have contributed the necessary DNA that led to her existence. She was not only approving of, but practically celebrating the sexuality the diary expressed. Instead of disappointed, it made me feel… jealous. I was so envious of these girls, who had the freedom to wear tiny bikinis and openly ogle the agile Greek boys, all lined up to flirt and perform ostentatious dives off the docks for their benefit. They just seemed so… free.

When she’s sober, an addict may keep the source of her temptation out of reach. Before experiencing a relapse, there is often a distinct moment where a critical part of her willpower just… crumbles. She doesn’t decide to relapse then and there, but she subconsciously gives herself permission to use, or smoke, or gamble, or whatever it is. Whenever I start smoking again after a period of abstinence, there is usually a shift that takes place, when I’m weak or in a state of lowered inhibitions. Then the dopamine hits. Dopamine, you know, doesn’t hit when you engage in an activity that is neurologically rewarding, such as sex or drug use. It hits when you decide to do the thing, when your hand stretches out for the bottle, when you begin to salivate in anticipation of that Big Mac and large shake. It hits when you decide, whether knowingly or subconsciously, to reach for the cigarette pack, when you plan to take the long way home, the one that passes the casino. Being hit with a gut-wrenching envy for Sophie and her friends, for teenage Donna, for the archetypal, sexually-liberated young woman with the agency to give her virginity to her high school sweetheart, or enjoy a one night stand with a Tinder date— for me, admitting that jealousy to myself was that shift. I hadn’t actually decided I was going to have premarital sex. But something had permanently altered inside me, and it wouldn’t be long before I became the girl I so envied.

For a while, I clung to the concept of virginity. It’s a lot harder to get past the “zero to one” threshold than it is to go from one to two, two to three, and so on. The technical loss of my virginity happened when I was sexually assaulted, just after I turned eighteen. After that seemingly insurmountable landmark was passed, it was almost arbitrary to continue. So in college I decided to be an absolute whore. I slept with anyone and everyone who I could get into my bed.

And… I hated it. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t give me any sort of pleasure. In fact, penetrative sex usually hurt. If it didn’t hurt, I mostly just felt bored, compelled to fake enthusiasm in order to cajole my partners over their edge so we could just be done, and I could collapse in sweaty exhilaration into their arms. It was a sense of pride, and really nothing else, that motivated me to even wait until they were done. At first, I couldn’t even get through to when my partner finished. But it only took me a few times before I had control over the panic attacks. I knew I could breathe, stay present, and be in the moment. I could ward off the crippling anxiety and darkness if I just stayed here. But sex was such a chore, such a burden that I sometimes found myself allowing the suffocating alternate to overtake me, just so I could, in good conscious, halt the act mid-stroke, to be freed of the discomfort in lieu of the part I really wanted: the part where they held me, kissed away my tears and told me that everything was going to be okay.

Then I met... let's call him Elliott. With him, the first time, it was just as it was with everyone else. I laid down and let it happen, giving enough verbal affirmation to encourage him to continue while staying as distant from the act as I could inside my own mind and body. After a few enthusiastic minutes, he abruptly stopped. He kissed me, then got up, removed and disposed of the condom, and then crawled back into bed.

“That’s… it?”

He laughed. “Now, now,” he chided. “Before you go and pull out the stopwatch, I didn’t finish.”

I was puzzled. “Why… not?”

He shrugged. “Just wasn’t happening. Sorry to disappoint.”

As I got to know him, I learned that Elliott had a slightly unique sexual appetite. It wasn’t that he didn’t find me attractive. He enjoyed the idea of having sex with me, and responded to me whenever I initiated (and even sometimes when I didn’t). He simply needed something other than just ‘urge’ to be, shall we say, successful in the act. For him, sex was cool, but the simple primitive urge to spill seed was more easily satisfied without a partner. In those cases, he was in complete control of the act. With the help of his imagination, a landscape so vivid and detailed and perfect that it made reality pale in comparison, there was no need for me, or anyone else. So, for him, the benefits of sex over masturbation were purely rooted in the one thing another human could offer: intimacy.

Elliott doesn’t need sex to feel love. He loves himself. He doesn’t need sex to feel pleasure or satisfaction for the same reasons. The only thing sex with me could give him that he couldn’t give himself was kindred spirit, and while that was lovely and wonderful, he didn’t need it to live, or even to be satisfied. Everything he needs to be happy, he can provide for himself with just a piece of paper and a pencil, a hiking trail, and adequate space in which to do a cartwheel. Elliott, like me, is autistic, but unlike me, his entire life revolves around his special interests. For him, there's nothing that anyone could give him that would satisfy him more than what he did himself.

I fell so hard, so fast. When we first started dating, I confided in him late at night that my biggest fear was of the phenomenon of love-hate dynamics, wherein the very quality or characteristic that you fall in love with almost inevitably becomes the same quality, recontextualized by circumstance and time, that drives you out of love again. He was always honest about who he was, never trying to hide his self-centered priorities or disguise the incorrigibly free spirit that makes him so unique and wonderful. So of course I can’t really be angry about what led me to end things with him, because they’re the same qualities I loved and admire even now about him. But even if his unfailing commitment to his own creative satisfaction at all costs made him unsuitable as a life-partner, that doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Quite honestly, even single, he’s one of the happiest people I’ve ever known. I envy that, and I wish more than anything I could be more like that.

Coming to terms with my asexuality meant giving up on the idea that a sexy, sordid love affair would bring me satisfaction in my life. In doing so, I allowed my priorities to shift past seeking romance around every corner, and began to focus on other things that gave me satisfaction. Following in Elliott’s footsteps, prioritizing self-actualization and personal growth and my own goals over the fleeting butterflies of romance— I started to do things.

I moved home, finished my college degree and fulfilled my dream of becoming fluent in sign language. I reconnected with my estranged childhood best friend, finding in him the inspiration in him to write the novel I always wanted to write. I found a job that, despite it being the last thing I actually wanted to do, benefitted me as a mode of improving my newfound bilinguality. I made friends at that job, and made a new life from the pieces of the one I left behind. I let my satisfaction come from the girl group I forged in the trials of the job, not the endlessly uninspiring monotony of the work itself. The friend group as a whole might’ve fallen apart after I left, but I held on to my roommate, someone who has taught me how to value myself and not settle for anything less than what I deserve. Having gotten everything I wanted from that job, I quit and found something I want to turn into a career. I started to learn to code, spent endless hours editing and drafting my novel, took up kickboxing and knitting, and discovered that I have a knack for bringing near-dead houseplants back from the brink until they're thriving. Just like I'm thriving, here, having left my own 'brink of death' long in the past. I finally found someone to love: I found myself.

I’m not saying that feeling lonely or wanting love is somehow wrong. But maybe, if you refocus your priorities onto the things that cannot be given to or taken away from you in this life, just maybe you’ll find a happiness that isn’t conditional, or inexorably tied to somebody else’s existence. More than anything else in the world, if there’s one thing I can say is worth the effort, it’s this. Find yourself first.

Life will probably throw me plenty more curveballs. But I've got somebody really great in my corner. She's a total badass, she's smart, resilient, and happy. And she'll be there for me even when I'm not thriving. She is... me.

#ace #ace spectrum #asexual #asexual spectrum #asexual stuff #sexuality #ex religious #writing #vent post #advice from a thriving twentysomething #long post #story time #autistic and queer #religious trauma #healing journey #self care #self improvement

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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I use Freshwater from B&BW. I just thought that was cool that you like the ocean scent. Maybe I’ll have to get that next! I also use Eternity by Calvin Klein and a Disney themed cologne called Bone Daddy lmao.

Rain is my go to as well, but thunderstorm rain. I want huge clapping thunder, strong bolts of lightning, and rain you can hear in every room. As for me, I want to either be watching a movie/show or having very filthy and very passionate sex while it’s going on.

Are you worried about scaring me off?

I will remember that!

————

I really want to finish my Hercules collection because it’s my favorite Disney movie. I also would like to finish The Powerpuff Girls. A dream Funko would be that jumbo Maleficent dragon! Or just another big pop based on my interests. I have the jumbo sitting Stitch. I put a lei around his neck. He’s a handsome guy.

1. Wanda Maximoff - she’s hot, but also, super strong for waking up every morning despite life kicking her ass.

2. Tony Stark - I think that if I was a child of a Marvel character, he would be my dad. I’m cocky like him, sarcastic, a lot less smart, but I mean well. I really, really do.

3. Natasha - Come on. It’s Nat!

4. Okoye - She’s just so powerful to me. I love a strong black female! How can you not?

4A. Literally Black Panther cast period.

5. Sam Wilson/Peter Parker - Both are slight idiots who have one goal in mind: cause chaos save the world and look great while doing so

I would either go to Disney World/Universal because I’ve never been OR I’d go to Italy. It’s been one of my dream destinations for years now. I think it’s a beautiful place.

Hm… my coworkers would be shocked to find out that I actually am not a social butterfly. Everyone else would be shocked that I listen to Taylor Swift on occasion. I’m not a huge Swiftie and I can’t say that I would ever enjoy meeting her in person, but I’d catch a concert with someone for sure.

————

Those are awesome! I also love that you want to show me things you’re excited about. It’s cute. You’re cute.

-🕸️

B&BW’s has my wallet in a vice grip, let me tell you 😂😂😂. Ocean/Bourbon/Teakwood are my go to colognes, and Gingham, Beautiful Day, and Japanese Cherry Blossom are my favorite perfumes from there.

——

I hold no oppositions to your rainy day plans. Sounds perfect really.

One thing about me darling… I have severe abandonment/trust issues, 😂, so I do question intentions on a regular basis. I also know I can be a lot at times so I hold: space for people to change their minds / the door open for them.

Ooh, I have only one Jumbo Funko: Ursula 🥰. Iron Man is the other one I desperately want, but besides that I don’t go out of my way to get the massive ones lol. Those are solid collections to finish up, I really wanted the original Friends and Scooby Doo ones but those price tags are hefty. 😮‍💨

Nat, Wanda, Tony, Peter, and Wong are mine. Shuri & Okoye (quite frankly the whole cast too) hold my heart too though, they are hilarious (comedic timing on point) and deserve hugs.

I’ve been to LA’s Universal and Disneyland, and I will say it’s actually pretty fun if you do it right. Italy looks lovely. I really wanna go to Bali or Cancun and do one of those all inclusive trips.

Taylor is my everything 🥹, so the fact that you don’t hate her makes my heart beam!!!

Stopppp, 🙈, gonna make me blush and that’s like totally unfair.

#🥺 anon 🥰#spidey 🕸️

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juyeoniemyhoney · 2 years

Text

the proposition

When your father shows up drunk and ruins your family's early Christmas dinner, you and Juyeon haste away. Your impromptu plan to spend more time with Juyeon fails, you bear your ugly sides to him, and Juyeon learns just what it means to have a family like yours. And along the way, Juyeon makes an eyebrow-raising business proposal that you just can't help but agree to.

pairing: lee juyeon x reader

genre: ANGST; fluff; a lil pining because don't we all just love pining; juyeon is a sweetheart as always

warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse!! ; mentions of drunkenness/being drunk ; daddy issues riding high i see ; a lot of self-deprecating humour ; mentions of wanting to get hit by a truck (its just a metaphor)

word count: 4791 words

A/N: ok i actually finished this like two weeks after i posted the last part but my sworn enemy is editing so this took ten million years longer than it was supposed to. also i literally change writing style every paragraph because im crazy so im sorry. ily guys and im so sorry i always make you guys wait but i hope hope hope that it's worth it for u guys. love you guys always and stay safe!!

read the other parts of rent a boyfie -> here!

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"What was that sound?" your mother drawls from the kitchen. You hear the shuffling of her bedroom slippers as she makes her way towards yours and Juyeon's stunned forms. Your siblings and grandparents don't pay you any mind and continue to take their places at the table, assuming that the ruckus was just because one of you had dropped something. It is worse. Much worse.

From your view, Juyeon's shoulders seem to relax ever so slightly when he realises that the man who had stumbled his way into your childhood home wasn't a random drunk man but your father. But then, he realises that it's your father and he's drunk, and Juyeon is on high alert all over again. He continues to hold your hand as he hides you behind his broad body, the grip he has on your hand vice-like and so telling of how he is feeling; scared, unsure, shocked. You feel the same. He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" your mother asks with a frown. She quickens her pace when you turn to her and she sees a slight glint of fear flash in your eyes. When she turns the corner, your mother seems to heave out a sigh of relief. What she is relieved about, you are unsure.

"I'm sorry you have to see this, Juyeon," your mother mumbles as she rushes to help your father off the floor. But as soon as she takes hold of his upper arm, your father shrugs her off, barking, "I can help myself up!"

You wince at the volume of his voice and Juyeon lets go of your hand to help your father too. You stay rooted in your spot, not wanting to go anywhere near your father. Now, let's not misunderstand here; he's never hit you or any of your siblings, neither has he laid a hand on your mother. You just hate how he always raises his voice, how he always finds something to be angry at, how you are always somehow the reason behind his anger. Your father is strict and absolutely unaccepting of nonsense or any of that sort. He used to scold you for asking questions and for getting in his way. He used to scold you for everything. And because everything was a reason for him to raise his voice, you kept quiet, never asked questions, learned about everything yourself. You dealt with your own problems and didn't share anything with him.

Ever since you left for university, this stifled part of you start to speak up, started to heal and you realised that everyone is not your father and because he wasn't around you all the time anymore, you could say and do and ask whatever you wanted. But now that he is here, angry and raising his voice, it is like an invisible switch at the back of your neck flipped on and you've become that robot that you were your entire childhood, speaking only when spoken to, moving only when told too, helping only when asked to.

The bad memories come back in droves and your heartbeat picks up as you remember and instinctively reach out to hold Juyeon back, to get him to stay as far away from your father as you can, lest he go through what you endured for years. But your fingers miss his shirt by a hair and Juyeon is bending down to help your father up from his keeled over position.

"Sir, are you okay?" Juyeon asks as he hesitatingly ghosts your father's arm, not helping him up in any way. Instead, your father manages to get to his feet and lift himself up in his inebriation. Juyeon follows him, hands held out as he too draws to his full height, ready to catch your father if he keels over again.

"Who the fuck are you?" your father bombards when he finally notices Juyeon. Juyeon pauses for a moment, a little stunned, before he takes a step back and bows.

"My name is Lee Juyeon and I am Y/N's boyfriend," he states in a loud unwavering voice, standing up straighter than a ruler after his bow. If someone heard this without any context, they might think that this were the military and Juyeon had started dating his superior's daughter. You suppose this isn't that far off, seeing how your father has always been the dictator of your household, ruling over you, your mother and your siblings with an iron fist.

"You're dating Y/N?"

"Yes, Sir," Juyeon replies without a moment's hesitation. It makes your neck feel hot.

"Good luck," your father says with a sarcastic laugh. The laugh is loud and fake as he takes his hand off the shoe cabinet to hold his stomach, causing him to slightly lose his balance. You feel yourself get sick to the stomach, bile rising up in your throat because you know, you know that he's going to say something about you, something to throw Juyeon off, something to make him rethink your entire relationship. Even though you know that it is fake, it's stripping to know that with the next sentence, he will know what your father truly thinks about you.

"Between you and me," your father begins, leaning in as if he is whispering a secret to Juyeon. His voice is still loud and you cannot bear to hear it. You know it will be a dig on you. You have always been your father's least favourite child, and with his next words, Juyeon will know why.

One difference between your child self and you now is that, perhaps you are bolder, more sturdy in your self beliefs, more intolerable of being put down. You used to sit through and listen to all the reasons why your father thought of you as the inferior child. You thought you were being smart, facing your problems head on instead of running away. Well, with age comes wisdom and you have finally learned that sometimes, running away is so much better than staying to deal with shit that's way beneath you. And that's when your mind finally re-enters your body and you unfreeze, making your way past your mother, past Juyeon, past your father, hastily shoving on your shoes and flinging open the door.

Before you leave, you hear your father continue, saying, "out of all her siblings—" but it is cut off when you slam the door. Without any hesitation, you make your way off the porch with nothing. No phone, no money, no jacket. But it doesn't matter. You have to get away or you'll do something. You know that you would've done something to your father if you stayed a listened.

The sun is still making its descent, leaving just a sliver of natural light left in the sky. Other than that, you allow the street lamps to guide you down the pavement, passing the houses until you get to the end of the street, turning into the small clearing that leads to the park nearby. You don't realise you are crying until you feel your cheeks begin to sting, the tears freezing as soon as they leave your tear ducts.

"Y/N!" you hear Juyeon yell behind you. You quicken your footsteps, hoping that you can disappear in the park before he sees you. You're happy that he has the decency to come for you but at the same time, you have no idea if he is doing this out of his own will or to put up an act because it would be suspicious if he didn't run after you. Not to mention how embarrassing that was. You brought Juyeon as your fake boyfriend but then your father comes home drunk and decides to tell him what he thinks of you as a warning sign, to stop Juyeon from dating you when he isn't even your boyfriend in the first place. God, you feel beyond pathetic.

And to make it even more embarrassing, you severely underestimate the power of Juyeon's long legs because in no time, he has caught up with you, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder.

"Stop, Juyeon—" you start to protest but before you know it, at the speed of light, Juyeon drapes your coat over your shoulders, turns you around by your shoulders and pulls you right into his chest, arms wrapping around your upper back. Everything stops, time, your heart, your lungs, your brain, all utterly unsure what on earth to do.

Cry, your brain supplies and for some reason, your body listens and you begin to wail. Your arms come up to hug Juyeon at his waist and he is so warm and he smells so nice and his palm on your back feels so comforting, and you just let go.

"I know," Juyeon coos, lifting one of his hands to stroke your hair, chin resting on top of your head as you continue to sob into his shirt. "It's okay, Y/N."

"What did he say?" you ask in between sobs, hands bunching up the fabric of his coat in your fists. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but you don't know why it does. You thought you'd grown immune to this, to your father's sharp tongue, to his anger, to his piercing words. You guess not.

"I don't know," Juyeon says softly into your hair. "I left before he could say anything."

God, does your heart burn. There's an inferno in your chest and your lungs constrict in a panic, trying to curl into itself, making itself smaller to get as far away from the licking flames. Your breaths come out in harsh gasps and the part of Juyeon's shirt that comes into contact with your face is soaked in your tears, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to the harsh angles of his chest.

The two of you stay this way for a while, Juyeon patiently allowing you to air out your grievances and cry your heart out about any and everything under the sun. He listens to your endless rambling quietly, your anger shifting to things that are completely unrelated to the matter at hand, like when you suddenly started ranting about a senior doctor at your hospital who doesn't allow you to do anything, hence why you are not learning. Juyeon just continues to stroke your hair, letting out gentle hums of acknowledgement, his other hand patting a slow, gentle rhythm onto your arm.

Eventually, you run out of things to be angry about and stop crying, leaving the two of you in a soft silence. And that's when you realise how Juyeon feels in your arms; how you feel in his. Your grip on his coat eases and you turn your face away from his chest, your ear now resting against his pec. You can hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes in, your head rising and falling in tandem with his lungs.

"Y/N?" you feel rather than hear Juyeon say.

"Yeah?"

"All good?" he asks, hands moving to your shoulders to break the hug. You acquiesce and pull away from his chest, your heart lamenting the lack of his warmth. But the gentle gaze he levels you with quietens its whines.

Your eyes lower when you can no longer hold Juyeon's gaze, heart beginning to pump fire in your veins. Now that Juyeon is looking at you, you feel kind of embarrassed. You must look like a mess right now, and in a very lame attempt to make things better, you wipe the dried tears from your cheeks and smooth down the back of your hair.

Now that Juyeon's warmth no longer permeates your skin, goosebumps rise on your forearms and you hastily slot your arms into your coat. Juyeon remains silent as he guides your hands to the sleeves and helps to zip it all the way up to your chin. You look up to survey Juyeon's expression but before your eyes can make it to his face, the wet patch of tears you left on his shirt catches your eye first.

"Sorry," you mumble, covering your palm with your sleeve and lifting it to wipe at his shirt, like it would make a difference. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment because there definitely is snot mixed in with those tears and that is so disgusting. If you were Juyeon, you would have ran for the hills.

But very evidently, Juyeon is not you and instead of running away, he just smiles and dismisses it like it's nothing as he zips up his jacket and shoves his hands in his pockets.

A silence stretches on as the two of you look at each other, both unsure of what to say next. You don't know if you should thank Juyeon or apologise and Juyeon doesn't know if he should say something encouraging. And all this results in your silent observing.

"You ready to go?" Juyeon eventually asks, breaking your eye contact and the silence. Without questioning anything, you nod and start to walk back to the house, Juyeon falling into step next to you. And when the two of you reach Juyeon's car he instructs you to wait inside as he grabs your things. You obey without protesting, allowing yourself to sink into the gradually warming leather seats.

It feels kind of weird. You feel kind of weird. Especially about your relationship with Juyeon. You hadn't really expected him to run after you but now that he has, you don't really know what to feel. I suppose you do feel grateful, after all, he did comfort you and he gave you a big hug that was really warm and made your body grow a flower forest in your stomach. You realise the two of you are more friends than anything. And it's just peculiar because of the way you met. Because you were desperate and stupid and he...

You begin to realise that you don't really know a lot about Juyeon. You know about him dropping out of college and his mother's health condition and how his dad left. But you don't really know why he decided to start this business in the first place, how and why it came about and what made him continue it.

You don't know anything about his habits and his other family, if he has siblings or if he's had to deal with all of his parental problems alone. And you suppose you do want to know about his living conditions, if that weird shophouse you first met him in was actually his house or just his base of operations, if he lives with his friends or alone.

The car door opens and your wandering mind halts. Juyeon places your bag on your lap gently and haphazardly throws his coat to the backseat. Then, he puts the gearshift in reverse and gets the two of you the hell out of there.

The silence is palpable and you get deja vu all over again. And usually, deja vu is weird for you and you don't ever want to get it again. But you suppose you do want to get deja vu again if it means you get to spend more time with Juyeon. Yikes, did you actually just think that?

"You okay?" Juyeon asks after a while. He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, gaze quickly returning to the road though there aren't too many cars out where you are now. You nod, realise he didn't see and let out a grunt that you meant to be a hum. Well that was embarrassing. But at this point, what side of you hasn't Juyeon seen?

"How did you start this business of yours?"

Juyeon lets out an amused laugh, glancing at you with raised eyebrows and a look in eyes as if to say 'seriously?'.

"What?"

"How did you come to begin this whole fake dating business. I've always been really curious about this," you explain to him, sinking further into your seat as you await his answer.

"Well," Juyeon starts, taking another quick glance at you. "It started in florist school. I made friends with a lot of girls because, well, there were only a few other guys."

Juyeon pauses to see if you're listening and is surprised to see you already looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He whips his head back to the road and gulps. Had your eyes always been that big?

"Anyway, towards the end of my first year there one of my friends asked if I would pretend to be her boyfriend during winter break. She said she would pay me and I needed the money so I agreed."

Juyeon has a really nice nose, you note. It's really straight and pointy and you wonder how it would feel like against yours, or pressed to your cheek or against the skin on your neck. And from the side, his eyes are really pretty. His eyes are always pretty but from the side you can see just how long his eyelashes are. It's unfair how long they are. Gosh, you wish your eyelashes were at least half the length of his. The best things are always wasted on men.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you hungry? We can stop by and get something to eat if you are," Juyeon says and that's when you realise you missed the ending of Juyeon's story because you were far too busy being jealous of his long eyelashes. You sulk internally, having been genuinely curious about the nature of his business but do not ask him to repeat. Just in case he asks why you weren't listening.

"Are you sure you aren't the one who's hungry?" you tease.

Juyeon laughs and but laments, saying, "Okay, fine. Let's say I'm the one who's hungry but when I get food, you can't have any."

"Hey!" you say, trying to sound offended and hurt but the amused smile on your lips says otherwise and your heart lifts when you see that Juyeon has the exact same smile in the curve of his lips.

Gosh, you could look at him smile forever.

Your brain takes a second to process your unbelievably loud thoughts. Okay, so, you are totally in love with Juyeon. And you have totally been avoiding admitting this out loud but technically, this isn't out loud. You're just coming to terms with it. And that's okay as long as Juyeon does not find out. He cannot find out. Because that is so unprofessional of you and Juyeon would definitely be uncomfortable because of that. And if he rejects you, it'll totally be awkward and your relationship is already so fragile and shallow, you professing your feelings and being rejected like a loser would definitely not help your relationship at all. And then, you'll never see Juyeon ever again because you don't want to look for him and burden him with your feelings and make him even more uncomfortable.

Yeah, so all you have to do is not say or do anything that'll give you away. Which is easy. You work in a hospital with patients and other people who have pissed you off more than once and you have very much wanted to give a piece of your mind to. But you've always kept your cool and haven't had a single conflict.

Except that's different. Liking someone is a lot different. Because you've hated almost everything your entire life and have grown to keep the hate internalised, to not disturb other people with you malice. But this feeling for Juyeon, this— dare you say— love, seems to be bursting from you, like you cannot contain it. And well, you can't. You can't contain it in the slightest.

"Juyeon, do you want to be my boyfriend?" you find yourself blurting before you realise. God, that came out like a burp you couldn't help. Your mother has always told you that you don't think before you speak and you now know why.

It's almost comical the way Juyeon's gaze snaps to yours. Your brain supplies the 'dun dun dun' sound effect and in the night sky behind Juyeon's head, you imagine lightning striking across the sky like impending doom. If this were a different situation, you would be laughing in his face by now. Unfortunately, you are stuck in this situation and your brain fumbles and trips over itself to come up with a suitable reason as to your stupid and surprising question. God, you are an idiot.

In the meantime, you try to buy yourself some time.

"Juyeon, the road!" you cry.

What about the road? It is flat and made with tar and also completely empty. There is not a single car in sight to put the two of you in danger. But you have to do it. You have to give Juyeon a heart attack to save your own skin. Sorry, Juyeon.

Your little fib works and Juyeon's wide, surprised eyes flick back to the road in panic, steadying the the wheel so that the car is in the middle of the lane again. But it doesn't last long and though Juyeon isn't staring at you in pure and utter disbelief anymore, he is taking those periodic glances at you again, switching from you and the road every other second, even more often than just now.

Your brain begins to shut down from overwork and you internally implore it to please think of something, anything for you to say. You imagine yourself on your knees, hands clasped together in prayer, tears streaming down your face as you plead your brain to get it's goddamned shit together.

"What did you say– you want me to be your boyfriend?" Juyeon asks again. You watch his adam's apple bob harshly as he gulps. You wonder if it's because he's nervous or because he does not want to be in this car with you anymore. You pray that it's the former.

You stay silent for a while, allowing your brain one last chance to redeem itself before you start thinking with your heart and surrender to confessing your feelings to Juyeon.

And apparently, begging and last chances work because your brain comes up with arguably the best idea ever.

"Yeah, like I'll, uh, book? Yeah, I'll book you for like a month and we just say that we're dating and then break up after, you know? Like the movie Pretty Woman."

Your sentence is met with silence and you begin to panic slightly. You sort of forgot that Juyeon can reject jobs. A very big detail that you probably shouldn't have missed out but at least, you're not confessing your feelings out of nowhere. Yeah, this is undisputedly better than just now. If you continue saying it, you'll speak it into existence. That's what your mother always says. You pray to god that she's right.

"I mean, of course, I'll pay you and you know it's not exactly like Pretty Woman. I mean, you're not a prostitute and I'm not this super-rich businessman. And the ending! The ending doesn't have to be the same unless, of course, you want it to be. If that's the case, I mean I don't really mind. But if you're uncomfortable then it's totally fine, you don't have to say yes," you ramble on, words coming out faster than you can think, like an endless stream of absolute bull crap had been accumulating in you and your body chose this exact moment to let it all out in the form of embarrassing word vomit. God, you wish you would shut up. You wish to get out of this car even more, so that you can hit your head against something really hard, preferably a truck.

"Be your boyfriend for a month?" Juyeon finally speaks up, looking at you with his stupidly big, sparkly eyes for a second longer than you deem comfortable for your lovesick heart. You are distracted again, Juyeon's eyes too pretty and gosh, his eyelashes are going to be the death of you.

Your brain taps you on your shoulder, saying, Hello? Answer him, bozo!

You snap out of it and smile tightly. "Yeah, just by word of mouth. You get me? So that I can say that I have a boyfriend and have proof, even if it's a lie."

Juyeon falls silent again and you find yourself scrambling to find words to convince him. You feel a little pathetic, having to convince Juyeon to be your fake boyfriend and not even your real one for an extended period of time. You wonder what would have happened if you hadn't thought about that excuse and had confessed instead. You shudder just thinking about it.

"And if I just told my mother we broke up, she would just be bothering me and trying to set me up with her friends' sons. I really don't want that to happen again. So, it'll be a win-win. You'll get money and I can use you as my scapegoat of sorts. Unless, of course, you don't wanna do it and you think it's a waste of time, then I totally understand."

Juyeon remains in thought and you hush yourself, trying your best to keep the word vomit in. You have run out of reasons to convince him further and now the decision falls entirely onto his shoulders. You'll be okay if he says no; you'll just come up with excuses if your mother chooses to pry about you and Juyeon. But you hope to god he says yes.

"Okay, but let's make it three months instead," Juyeon finally says.

Eh?

You freeze and you begin to break out into the most intense sweat in your life. Three months? You do not have the money to buy Juyeon's time for three months. You barely even have the money to pay him for a month. You were beginning to feel like a genius but now you feel like the biggest idiot. So, this is why people just confess their feelings instead of coming up with elaborate plans to spend time with the person they like. Yep, you are dumb.

"Three months?" you stutter out. You can visibly see the amounts being deducted from your bank account in front of you, the numbers falling and falling with each day of said three months passing by. You almost faint as the calculations continue in your brain.

"Yeah, but you don't have to pay me," Juyeon says. And the sweat stops immediately. You feel less lightheaded and you perk up in your seat. What a nice thing for someone to say. You think you may love Juyeon more now.

"I'm fine to do it but I'd feel bad if I don't pay you," you say slowly, turning to look at his side profile again. My wallet won't feel bad, you think but regret immediately, chastising yourself for being a cheap person when Juyeon has already done so much for you. Your guilt washes away, however, when he sends you a sweet smile, eyes creasing so prettily you almost lean over the centre console to kiss him. You really are the worst human being.

"I would benefit from this too even if you didn't pay me so it's okay," Juyeon supplies the briefest and most boring explanation. You continue to stare at him with curious eyes and he folds with one glance at your imploring eyes.

"Remember Iris?"

You nod.

"She's been sort of in love with me since florist school. She hasn't said anything but I can feel it and if I told her I have a girlfriend," he pauses to tilt his head in your direction, linking you and girlfriend. Your heart does some sort of flip. "then, maybe she would kind of get the idea."

You nod in understanding. But you laugh sardonically in your head, wondering if Juyeon would take to this method to ward you off once the three months wear off and your love for him begins ooze from your every orifice, your every pore, your body no longer able to contain this love, filling you like helium fills a balloon, a feeling that makes you feel featherlight and like you're floating. You wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

"Plus, my relatives are kind of hounding me to get into a relationship too. Something about finding someone to recharge and whatnot."

You smile a secret smile and hold out your hand for Juyeon to shake.

"Partners?"

Juyeon glances at you out of the corner of his eye again, gaze shifting from your own to your hand. He smiles and one of his hands leaves the wheel to take your hand in his, shaking it firmly. Your heart does a backhand spring in your ribcage when the rough, warm pad of Juyeon's palm meets yours.

"Partners."

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zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

can i request malleus and reader’s future child time travelling to meet their parents when they still go to nrc pls 🙏 i just really think this is cute eeeEE

Heehee~ This prompt is always a fun one to see in fandoms

-- -- --

A bright light, the sensation of falling, a scream being torn from their throat, and finally, landing.

"U-U… U'cl Lilia..? P-Papa..?" They sniffled, hugging their trusty dragon plush close. "I-I don kno…" Tears stung their big round eyes.

The small one took some shaky breaths, wiping away the tears with their sleeves. This was somewhere unknown, somewhere outside of Valley of Thorns, so they should not let their guard down to cry.

Little feet began to walk, mesmerized by the seven looming figures surrounding them. "Ah! Gweat Wi'ch!" Their pace quickened once the horned figure crossed their line of sight.

Innocent to the onlookers' eyes, the toddler babbled words and letters engraved on the statue's pedestal.

"What is a child doing here?" Ace asked.

"Since when do kids visit this school? Aren't they too young to be on a school trip?" Jack threw the tiny figure a sideways glance.

Deuce was somewhat unsettled, "Are they lost? Didn't they wipe away tears?"

Ace snickered, "Say, Deuce, don't ya wanna be a policeman? They help lost kids~... Why don't you practice for the future?"

The blue haired glared at his friend, but before a retort could be said, Jack parted from the group.

"O-Oi, what do you think you're doing?!" Ace exclaimed in surprise.

However, their whole motions were stopped when a certain pistachio haired boy entered the scene.

"Just what do you think you're doing, child?! Show more respect to the great Witch of Thorns!" Sebek speedwalk directly to where the (now scared) kid stood.

"What are you doing touching her statue with dirty hands?! And reading her accomplishments in disarray?! Were you not taught proper manners, to respect the Great Seven?!" As Zigvolt droned on with his scolding, the child's eyes filled with tears once more.

"U'cl Sebe doodoo head!" They wailed, letting their tears roll.

"What was that?!?!" The irritated first year yelled.

Jack resumed his stride, but stopped a few steps away due to the high pitched cries bothering his sensitive ears. Ace, Deuce and Epel stood in shock at the scene. "U’cl? ...Uncle?"

Running steps interrupted the scene “Sebek, what is wrong with you? Screaming at a small child?!” [Name] rushed in, standing between the kid and Zigvolt.

“M-Mo…! Mo!!” The young one immediately hugged the legs of who was standing in front of them.

“But I simply-!” “Oh, hush now! Stop yelling, lest you wanna upset the kid more.” They quickly interrupted whatever the exalted first year wanted to say.

The [hair color] bent down to lift the toddler, “Uh… Hello there, little one! Are you lost? Did you come here with someone?” They spoke gently after helping wipe the tears away.

“N-No… no lost, Moddy wid me naw. U’cl Lilia…” At the mention of Diasomnia’s vice leader, everyone had wide eyes.

“Lilia? You came with...for Lilia?” They tried to coax more information out, but the little one only leaned onto their shoulder and wrapped the unoccupied arm around the student’s neck.

As if on cue (and spooking all grown ups in the process), Vanrouge appeared. “Mentioned my name?”

Immediately, the infant turned to look at the bat. “U’cl Lilia! Upu upu!” They made grabby hands and, of course, Lilia complied.

“What an adorable whippersnapper! You have such wonderful green eyes! That look awfully familiar…” The fae stopped his tickling to recall where he had seen those bright eyes. A sudden flash of baby Malleus with big tears in his eyes crossed the old bat’s mind.

“Master Lilia, what matters do you have with a child?” Sebek questioned.

“Ah, huh… I’m about to find out.” He answered, turning to walk away, but was stopped by displeased groans. “Mo! M-Moddy!” A sob accompanied the kid’s cries, arms outstretched towards [Name].

Tiny hand wrapped around bigger fingers as the one they called out came closer. Lilia understood, “[Name], can you be a dear and follow me? Seems like our visitor here doesn’t want to let you go.”

They snapped out of it, “O-Oh! Certainly.” There was something about holding that small hand that brought forth warmth in their heart.

Before they tailed the 3rd year, they stopped and whispered to Jack, “Inform the Headmaster. Whoever this child is needs to go back home securely and quickly.” The 1st year nodded.

As they made their way towards wherever Lilia led them, child and [1st/2nd/3rd] year student bonded. Playing hide and seek, singing lullabies, asking questions about the kid’s trusty dragon companion, anything to make sure they were distracted and wouldn’t get scared by anyone or anything around them (especially once arriving at the dark Diasomia dorm).

“Old Man… [Name]-san, and a child..?” Silver greeted the group, perplexed at the scene.

The fae smiled as if there was nothing unusual, "Evening, Silver hair! Do you happen to know where Malleus is?"

"Uh-..huh… I believe he’s in his room." He decided not to ask questions, although his face told of his clear confusion.

"Wonderful! Let us go to our destination, then. [Name], do come with."

"As you say. Keep leading the way, please."

“Shi’va, ba-by~!” Tiny hands waved at the boy who slowly returned the gesture. “What is going on? They knew..my name?”

Once standing in front of Malleus' chamber, Vanrouge knocked on the door. A click of the door unlocking and opening was the only answer. This gesture made the toddler perk up.

"Malleus! How many more times have I need to tell you to signal the visitor they have permission to enter? Don't just open the door with magic." Lilia let himself in, "Apologies for his manners, [Name]. This is the one antic I couldn't drive out of him."

Draconia rolled his eyes as he continued tending to his virtual pet.

"Papa!" Again, small arms stretched towards the figure before him.

The dragon prince became curious at the youthful voice and looked towards the door. He was met with the sight of Lilia carrying a child while [Name] stood beside them.

"Tell me you didn't steal this one, Lilia. I don't want history to repeat itself--"

"Silence, you… No, this one was wandering NRC until Sebek and his friends found them." Pout turned into a smile as the bat took Gao Gao-kun from Malleus' hands and replaced it with the child, "Now I think I've deciphered what happened."

"Papa, papa! Gao!" The little one said, placing their toy on Malleus' face.

He only duck away from the plush, "Papa? No child, I believe you're mistaken."

"Oh no, they're absolutely not mistaken~!" Lilia giggled, "It appears our visitor here is accidentally a time traveler. Probably got in the way of a spell and ended up here."

"Time traveler?" The other two occupants of the room said, startled in their own levels.

"Indeed. Want to know the interesting part of this?" The younger students looked at each other in slight confusion, nodding at last.

"This child… has vibrant green eyes, a head of [texture] [color] hair, and if you touch their crown, you can distinctly feel two little hard bumps…" While the bat described the little one's appearance, [Name] moved to stand close to Malleus and the kid.

"In case that rings no bells," Vanrouge continued, "I shall uncover the truth… Dear [Name], Malleus… I believe with all my mythical intuition that this is a whippersnapper of your own."

“Of our own…?” Draconia echoed.

“Our kid?” [Eye color] looked into two pairs of lime green.

“Papa, moddy! Gao!” As if sensing the mood, giggles escaped their mouth after their parents reunited.

Sparks and butterflies ignited two hearts after hearing their beloved (future) child giggle so merrily.

“I-! I- ugh… ahaha~ Well, would you look at that?” A blush erupted on the [1st/2nd/3rd] year’s face, “Ahem… looks like we’re more than highschool sweethearts, huh?”

The crown prince could only bring his child closer, embracing him tenderly in his warmth. “If… Only if you allow us to be more than that. The future can always be changed.” Malleus looked at them, both of them, with fondness.

“How do you expect me to change opinions when you’re both so darn cute, ya big lizard?!” [Name] internally squealed and aww’d at their future family. Emotions so colorful, they went over and joined the hug.

Lilia smiled brightly at the small family, “My Queen, My King… I know both of you surely are proud of your son, wherever you may be now.” A melancholic sigh left him, “I shall take my leave. Time travel issues can be resolved later, let them bask in happiness.”

[END♡]

-- -- --

OMG HOPE THIS WASN’T SUPER CONFUSING TO KNOW WHEN I REFERRED TO READER AND TO THE KID AAAAA Sorry if many “the child/kid/[X] year student” were used! Was the only way I could think of working around this

Thank you for the request! We all know Silver, Sebek and Lilia will definitely be part Malleus’ kids’ family, so of course the baby here knows their name :b

(lol sorry for the terrible baby talk too, idk with what sounds do kids struggle with the most when learning to talk) (ALSO!!! supposedly “moddy” is a gender neutral term for parents, a mix of “mommy” & “daddy”)

#march 2021 special #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #zack writes #soul cuddle #request pavilion

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Tidy Sums

Summary: Sophie Mason (OC) was John Shelby’s first friend and his first kiss. They’d never been in love, not in the way he’d been in love with Martha. Their relationship wasn’t quite so tidy, but that had never stopped them from loving one another in their own way and finding their own happiness in the mayhem.

Characters: John Shelby and Sophie (OC)

Warnings: canon-content, mention of a sexual relationship, kissing/ touching.

If Sophie was being honest, and honest was something she usually was, the problem was quite simple.

The numbers no longer made sense.

They hadn't for some time now, the figures blurring together with the lines meant to keep each transaction separate, the columns and neat symbols representing the company's wins and losses jumbled in her mind although the tidy sums were somehow still accumulating on the bottom of every page.

Sophie had been working with the betting shop's books for years now, more familiar with the content of the ledgers than she was with any other book she’d come across—the bible or the latest popular novel she’d taken out from the central library. She supposed the only other pages she knew as well as the ledgers were those of the children’s book John’s kids begged after anytime she sat for them, refusing sleep until they heard a tale from the old, worn tome that was so well-loved it was missing the cover page. Sophie could probably recite the story from memory, but she had no ideas about its proper title, not with the kids referring to it exclusively as “daddy’s story.”

Sophie had worked for the Shelby family in a somewhat official capacity since leaving school almost a decade earlier, but she had had her nose in their books for longer than that, ever since Polly realized the girl had a penchant for numbers. And it was Sophie who encouraged John to get involved with this side of the business when they were only fourteen, convincing him easily enough that the pair of them could get up to the same amount of fun in the betting shop as they got up to out on the lane. It was Sophie who had known, despite what his school records had to say on the matter, that John Shelby was good with numbers.

But numbers were cleaner, less bloody, less exciting, and certainly more mentally taxing than playing at peaky boy, or at least mentally taxing in a different way. They had to generate their own sources of amusement within the walls of the betting shop. She and John had always been good at sourcing their own amusement though.

Sophie sat back from the books, taking a moment to rub her eyes with the heels of her palms. It was late. Scudboat and the twins had already gone, and John had locked her in when he went home to check on his lot, saying he’d be back to let her out and lock up once he got his kids down for the night.

That was their routine these days. She’d spend an extra couple of hours each night with the books while John stole an extra couple of hours with his kids before putting them down for bed and coming back to number six to wrap things up for the night.

She startled a bit when John’s hands found her arms, his rough palms pinching and rubbing against the delicate fabric of her shirt. She settled as the warmth of his hands came through her thin sleeves and sunk into her skin, finally leaning her head back to rest against his stomach, tilting her eyes up to him briefly as the left side of her mouth pulled up.

“Devils went down early tonight,” she said.

He’d been gone for less than an hour. It was usually twice that before he made his way back and his return was usually accompanied with some sort of complaint about the kids’ behavior, about their refusal to go to sleep or eat the dinner he made them, something Sophie was always quick to remind him was simple coded behavior for them wanting more time with their father and being uncertain of a better way to go about it.

“Finn’s on devil duty for the night.” John shrugged. “Says he’s saving up for something, so he’s eager for the pocket money.”

Sophie hummed, tilting her head back down to the books as she picked up her pen once more. “A little devil put on devil duty,” she mused. “I’m sure that will turn out well.”

“I think you’ll find most of us Shelbys are devils,” John said.

“I don’t...” she started, pausing both her hand and her mouth as John’s fingers traveled up her arm, fingertips slipping across the smooth skin of her exposed collarbone and then her neck as he pushed her hair aside.

She tried again. “I don’t intend...”

Sophie gulped, stilling for a moment as John’s lips found her neck. A deep breath came from her in a nearly involuntary capacity and her shoulders relaxed back. She was overcome by his slow focus, overcome by the simple way John could tease her. Despite his leisurely wandering, they both knew he was venturing towards the one spot he knew could have her entirely undone, have her forgetting her words and how to properly breathe, obliterating from memory the notion of responsibility and the company books entirely.

“Don’t intend to what?” John mumbled the words against her skin as she tilted her head, exposing her neck as his fingers wound in her hair.

“Fuck,” she breathed as his lips found her earlobe, his warm breath melting any remaining resolve as her back arched away from the chair.

“No, John, stop.”

John released her from his lips, straightening his back, and turning her face to his with the hand still entwined in her hair, the guidance gentle yet resolute.

“You really want me to stop?”

Her skin burned hot and her breaths had started to come a bit quicker, more shallow and less gratifying in meeting her need for air, her need for calm and control and the mysterious power she knew a steady cadence of breaths could hold. Sophie forced herself to deepen her inhale and pause before the exhale, forced herself to calm her racing heart and quell the more instinctual desire stirring inside of her, willing her mind and body to focus...on anything other than John.

“I want,” she started after a barely sufficient cycle of inhales and exhales, reaching up to wrap her hand around John’s forearm, “for you to let me finish these ledgers so your aunt doesn’t issue me a death warrant.”

John sighed and rolled his eyes at the protest but removed his hand from her hair at the gentle nudge.

“Or a boot. Or a smack upside the head,” Sophie continued, pulling a hair comb from her desk drawer and initiating some attempt at getting the hair out of her face, “or whatever retribution it is she’s offering us these days.”

“Pol won’t come after you like that,” John said.

“She’s done it before.”

“That woman hit you once, almost fifteen years ago, and we both deserved it that day. Scared the shit out of her playing in the Cut like that.” John rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, thinking on the whiskey and cigars tucked away in his office before deciding to forgo both vices for now. “Anyway, we’re not kids anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure Aunt Polly smacked you upside the head just last week.”

“Well, that’s me, not you,” he said. “She’s got a soft spot for you.”

“All the more reason not to chance it, then. One go around with her was more than enough for me,” she answered, finally succeeding at securing the bulk of her hair up, the loose bits falling back into her face just a few seconds after she tucked them away.

John laughed as he moved to sit against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what if—”

“No, John. No what-ifs…What-ifs and…” Sophie glanced up at him, regretting it even before she met his mischievous eyes, lamenting the decision as soon as she caught sight of his lips, swollen and reddened from his previous endeavors. “What-ifs and that fucking smirk are what made me fall behind to begin with.”

John chuckled. “You’re behind because you like doing me more than you like doing the books.”

She sat back in her chair, arms folding across her chest as she looked at John, his body shaking slightly with the laughter he only half-heartedly tried to contain. “You think so?”

“Seems like it. You were very diligent back when you were stepping out with that dim bloke. The one with the sweaty hands?”

Sophie leaned forward just an inch and John held up a hand. “Now, don’t you go smacking me, too. You can’t dispute it because you told me yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with Phillip’s sweaty hands,” she said, smirking back at John. “Maybe I’m behind because my boss is a hard ass who has put too much on my plate and not enough on theirs?”

John nodded like he was considering her words. “You know, I wouldn’t let Aunt Pol hear you speaking ill of her like that if I was you.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I'm talking about you and you know it. I’m here late every night and you leave early every day to go home to those kids.”

John shrugged. “If you don’t want to be here every night with the books, you’re more than welcome to go mother my lot and make us dinner.”

She frowned as he said it, sighing as his playful demeanor didn’t quite stick, the note of his words far too hopeful and desperate and longing.

“I don’t want to be a mother, John,” she said. “And you know I’m a shit cook.”

Sophie had made that much clear to him over the last year, both the bit about the mothering and the bit about the cooking. She was good with the kids, and would gladly watch them for a few hours or so when he needed, but she had no desire to raise a hoard of children, or even one child. Not someone else’s, and not one of her own either. She had other aspirations and they didn’t involve being tied to a home and a child, or even to a man.

“I’m perfectly content being an almost auntie. I’m good with children so long as they go back to their parents when all is said and done.”

“And the cooking?”

“You really want me cooking for you?”

“No, you’re right. You’re rubbish in a kitchen,” he said before picking up the tube of lipstick set on her desk. “You’re their favorite auntie though,” John continued, fidgeting with the tube as he spoke. The thing went unused nearly every day now that she was working late, passing the bulk of her evenings at the shop with John instead of out at a pub or dance hall, but the thing still sat on her desk just in case, a gentle reminder of the types of nights she used to have.

“They’re always fucking asking after you,” he said.

Sophie pulled her eyes away from his hands to observe his face. “Well, they take after their father then because you can’t seem to get enough of me either.”

Sophie pushed some strands of hair from her face, only causing more to come loose from the hair comb. She pulled the whole thing out and began twisting her tresses up again as she continued speaking. “Constantly bothering me… keeping me from my work… never ending nonsense and devilment.”

John snorted and pushed himself off the desk, taking the hair from her hands.

“What are you doing?”

Sophie turned towards him and John planted his hands on her shoulders, twisting her so she faced away from him once again.

“Fixing your hair so you can focus on your work, so do us both a favor and sit still,” he said, combing his fingers through her hair to release the knots, the nails of his fingers grazing her scalp as he swept the hair back from her face.

“That’s not going to help me focus on my work,” she muttered as he began weaving her hair, the ritual a calming one, nostalgic even, reminding her of her youth, reminding her of when she had someone to plait her hair. Sophie hadn’t worn a braid in years. She was skilled at braiding other people’s hair, but she had never learned how to manage her own.

“No?” John asked. “You’ve got two free hands and two working eyes while I’m doing this. No reason you can’t be adding and subtracting right now.”

She shook her head and John tugged the strands between his fingers tight, eliciting a howl as she reached her hand back.

“What the hell?”

“Sit still,” John said, smiling into the words as he continued with his work.

“Don’t pull my fucking hair.”

He pulled the strands tight once again, laughter spilling from his lips before she even had a chance to react.

“I told you to sit still. You’re worse than Katie. Never have to tug on her braid more than once to get her to settle.”

Sophie huffed but followed his directive, knowing there was less than a minute left of John’s undertaking, and knowing he would have no qualms about tugging her hair again.

“Remember how we said we’d get married if we both weren’t married by the time one of us turned twenty-five?”

A part of Sophie wanted to look at him, wanted to turn her head and meet his eye, to see what kind of expression graced his face while he brought up the pact from almost fifteen years ago, a silly agreement made between two kids who knew absolutely nothing of life, but John had told her to sit still, so while she felt his hands still winding in her hair, she did just that.

“You’re turning twenty-five next month,” he said, finally tying off the braid. John stepped to the side, resuming his seat on her desk.

“You’re very good at that,” she commented.

“Good at what?”

She pulled the braid over her shoulder, admiring its neatness. “The braid. You’ve gotten good. You used to be quite abysmal with it.”

“You taught me well, I guess.” John rolled his eyes. “You had more patience with me than Martha did.”

“Well, could you really blame her? You were a horrible student, all fumbling hands and that fucking cheeky mouth running the whole time for no good reason.”

John smiled. “And you’ve gotten quite good at that,” he said.

“Good at what?” she asked.

“Changing the fucking subject.”

She sighed as she dropped the braid and looked at him. “We’re not getting married, John. Not because of some silly pact and not because your kids need a mother.”

“What if it’s because we like each other?” he asked, tugging her up to stand between his legs. “What if it’s because we love each other, eh?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked away, fighting only a bit when his hand caught her chin and tilted it towards his face.

“You do love me, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” she said, “but not like you’re asking. And you don’t love me like that either.”

“Love is love.”

She shook her head. “We love like friends.”

“Friends love like this?” John glanced down and Sophie’s eyes followed his gaze to see how their bodies were wrapped up together. Her hand had settled on his thigh, his on her hip, with both of their fingers idly caressing clothing seams while they were each thinking of caressing the skin beneath.

“Attraction and romantic love are different things, John.”

Sophie was always saying it, and he liked to argue with her even though he knew it was at least a bit true. John knew they were friends who happened to be physically attracted to one another, and maybe, if he’d never fallen in love with Martha, or maybe if he’d never had kids, or if Sophie had not gotten so close with Martha in the years he’d been away, things could be different, but as it was, Sophie was right and John knew it. Because he didn’t feel about her the same way he’d felt about Martha and she didn’t feel that way about him either.

Their relationship was a combination of friendly care and sexual attraction and the type of love that came from knowing someone for as long as it was possible to know another person who wasn’t truly family, but there wasn’t a true bit of romantic desire between them.

“And I don’t want to be what you need your woman to be. You and the kids deserve someone who wants that life.”

“And what happens when I find someone who wants that life?”

“What always happens,” she said with a shrug, “we stop this and I catch up on the books.”

“Is that what you want?”

Sophie was telling the truth, but she hesitated anyway. This was the longest stretch they’d done this, the longest stretch during which she’d not bothered with dates, and if nothing else, it was habit now, their ritual. It was a comfort. But if John found someone he wanted to settle down with, Sophie knew they’d put a stop to things, same as they’d done all those years ago when he fell in love with Martha and same as they’d done earlier this year when she’d decided to go on a few dates with Harvey Johnson or a few months later when she’d agreed to see Phillip Miller a few times.

It hadn’t bothered Sophie when he was with Martha, and though John had teased her about the men she’d chosen to step out with over the last year, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by it either, more concerned with expressing what he’d do to the men if she came out of it hurt. Sophie knew from experience they could simply stop.

Stop the flirting.

Stop the kissing and the sex and the nonsensical talk of being anything more than friends.

They could stop with the rest of it and still be friends.

John wrapped his hand around Sophie’s braid, giving it a small tug to pull her attention back to him.

“Quit pulling my fucking hair.”

“It’s the only thing that ever makes you listen,” he said, tightening his hold a bit. “And I know you like it.”

“And the only thing that ever makes you listen—”

John caught her hand before she could reach high enough to smack him upside the head. “I’m listening. Answer the question.”

“I already told you what I want,” she said, nodding towards the open ledger beside him. “To spare myself a lecture, hell, probably two lectures if Polly decides to let Tom know we’re behind, too. Your brother’s in a right fucking mood lately.”

“Is that what you want? The end of this?” John asked, glazing over her chastising him about pulling her hair and her concerns about lectures and the hand she’d raised to smack him upside the head.

Sophie shrugged, pulling her hand loose from his hold and absently rubbing at her wrist as she leaned against his leg.

“C’mon Soph, I’m being serious.”

She pushed her finger into the corner of John’s frowning mouth, forcing a half smile. “John Shelby doesn’t do serious.”

John moved her hand away from his face. “I’m doing serious right now.”

“Fine, John. I want to be happy. And I want you and the kids to be happy,” she said, turning towards him straight on and resting both hands on his thighs. “And someday that may mean you have someone to go home to, and those babies won’t be looked after by another baby, but for now, that means we do this whenever we can.

“I have to finish this work first though.”

Sophie kissed him on the cheek then, squeezing his thighs once before she moved to sit back down, but John caught her at the elbow, holding her there in front of him.

“What about you?”

She tried to pull out of his grasp, but John only gripped tighter and drew her closer.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “What about me?”

“I didn’t hear anything about getting you your happiness.”

“I’m plenty happy, John,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You want the truth?”

John nodded, his hands slipping down her arms to hold her hands. She sighed, looking down at their hands entwined there together.

The truth was Sophie was happy. The truth was she had always been happy with what they were and what they weren’t, content with the sum of things though it was by no means tidy like the lines of the ledger books they spent their days looking over.

“The truth is I think if you don’t let me finish these books I might not know happiness ever again,” she said, slipping her hands from his and stepping out from between his legs.

John pulled her back to him before she could slip into the chair though, reaching his arms around her body and wrapping his legs around hers, trapping her against him. “Well, if that’s the case, we’d better make sure you get your fill of happiness now then, eh?”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x oc

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blonde-toddy · 3 years

Text

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 2

Childbirth scenes are always fun right?

I'm guessing this is the Dukes mother.

Oh he's one of those 'give me a son' types.

Yep they the Dukes parents.

Lady Danbury laying down the law wherever she goes....y'all gonna let her see her friend!

His mother died in childbirth.....fucking hell.

At least he got a son, I guess.

Simon ......... Bassett

Sad, pensive Simon....still hot.

The queen needs all the tea!

Who's that your Grace? Tis not Daphne. You better go promenade mf!

Violet and Danbury still plotting.....

"Only five minutes alone with you in a drawing room...." Jesus! Honey she felt that....and he knew he flexed a lil too hard on that one. But fuck me, it was hot!

Yes Eloise, you're a Jo March. We fucking get it. Womaning is hard and societal expectations are bullshit. They really laid it on thick with her and I hope she becomes a bit more multidimensional.

Hold up. These poor girls don't even know where babies come from. Oh the chastity of it all.

Not that Penelope out here telling Marinas business low key.

Damn....her non-hoe brothers are lightweight roasting her. Ya sis is a baddie! Get with it.

They really don't tell these women shit about sex. Lil brother out here trying to spill the tea though. VIOLET! TALK! TO! YOUR! DAUGHTERS!

Awe shit. Daphne got fans again.......oh and here comes creepy fucking Berbrooke.

Damn Anthony you really calling her disrespectful while you out here trying to sell her like cattle to Berbrooke. Fuck. Off.

Oh it's definitely immaturity. I can't keep on with Anthony's ass. Something has got to shake.

Oh, Violet....you want it to be the Duke.

Shirtless Duke! Yes, please.

"A great deal goes on in a mind as quick as mine." Gawd help me. Kick his ass Simon! Protect your situationship partner!

Poor baby Simon can't speak so well......oh and his daddy is EVIL evil.

Penelope trying to be friendly with the expectant. She needs answers. But DAMN! Even Marina won't explain sex. Somebody help these women. Love does not impregnate. I fucking can't.

The queen of shade appears bored by a lack of new tea.

Get your eggs Daphne!

Violet gets to have tea with the queen....so that means Daphne wears diamonds to tonight's ball. Okay.

Ok Queen Danbury. Get the Duke in line.

Aww Lady Danbury and little Simon! She's here to give that boy the love he deserves. Look at this Queen Fairy GODMOTHER! I just adore her. She really is the queen to me.

Danbury blocking Anthony's attempts at cockblocking is big energy. I want Ratafia now. Let me go Google what in the hell that is and where to find it.

I feel like that lil spin Simon did was a bit of improv, but I liked it.....and you can't tell me they weren't having a real life ball dancing together in that scene. That was legit laughter between friends. I'm here for it. They brought the energy in that dance.

Here goes Anthony's ass trying to fuck it up again. This time he wants middle brothers help. Middle brother just wants to chill, not dance with his sister, bro. I like middle brother. Yes I know his name is Benedict.

Simon shading Berbrooke is gold. Calling him the fuck out was even better.

Oh Anthony....took you long enough.

Daphne is not here to have her honor protected by ANY MAN. I love this bitch. Simon was just trying to help though.

Danbury planting her lil seeds. This is her world. We just wish we lived in it.

Simons going to take the air....ah walk home. Because nothing bad ever happens on a dark walk home.

This mf Berbrooke just will not stop. He gets more disgusting with each interaction, I swear. But what you're not gonna do, is keep disrespecting Daphne. The Duke out here growling at this mf.

Ooooh I love a good head butt!

I stan a fake couple who beat up the same perv.

Oh now this EVIL mf.

You trying to prove yourself. Poor baby.

Old dogs. New tricks. We all know the saying. That mf man is awful. I see some daddy issues coming to the story. That's probably why he stopped himself from completely pulverizing Berbrooke. He doesn't want to be cruel like his father.

Sad reflective Simon.....hiding his pain literally and figuratively.

Damn, Whistledown, Daphne does not want Berbrooke. Everybody knows that. Stop trying to make it a thing.

"It does not matter what the Duke thinks, Rose." Sure, Jan.

I'm sick of this basket weave haired bitch.

Oh Portia.

Penelope and Eloise still knowing nothing about sex is depressing.

Fuck off Anthony. Daphne is done with your fuckery...and she's calling you tf out. I'll say it again, Daphne is my bitch.

Heyyyyy Simon!

Oooof Daphne sees that bruised up hand. You really gonna lie and say boxing. Boy bye.

Oooooh the cuff-buttoning and banter with instense eye contact. KEEP FEEDING ME!

Oh here comes this mf Berbrooke. Duke, you're busted. Simon ready to throw hands again. This hoe ass mf is really trying to force a wedding.

Daphne really just gonna give up. Aw naw.

Violet, God bless you, but your vague ass speech does not help.

Ooooh smoking Eloise. I love a good vice.....oh and sibling bonding. This is nice.

I think Simon likes getting knocked around. There's something very masochistic about the way he seems to enjoy it. He's sad about Daphne having to marry Berbrooke and can't express that in the way he should or would like to....More on this later, I'm sure.

Violet and the queen.....and the queen likes nose play. Okay then.

Ohhhh the queen is basically telling Violet that Daphne better get things rolling with the Duke for the notoriety and popularity it would provide her family.

So why tf are you inviting Berbrookes raggedy ass mama over for tea? This bitch. You can definitely see why her son is so fucked up.

Kippers on Rye. No ma'am.

Ahhhh Violet was fishing for a scandal to stop the Berbrooke marriage. Makes sense.

Well, mission accomplished. No thanks to Anthony.

Violet stays at his neck though.

I really don't like Marina being all confined.

Sisterly bonding maybe? Daphne dropping knowledge and optimism on Eloise.

Well shit, deflate that balloon.

*In My Blood (Instrumental) plays*

Aaaand she's back on the arm of the Duke.

Their chemistry is mind blowing. Like they could melt my screen just looking at each other.

"Call me by my name" because 'Call me by your Name' could never.

Gawd the way he says her name. That's it. I want Daphne to be my name now.

The intimacy of that bruised hand on her bare shoulder - ICONIC.

Lady Danbury knows all and jealous Simon has entered the room.

Not his evil ass daddy again.

Oh fuck Simon. Why would you make a promise like that?! Thats OBVIOUSLY coming back around on you. Who tf are you really hurting in avowing never to marry or have children?!

But the "Speak, you fucking monster," was everything. Full circle.

#bridgerton #bridgerton reaction #bridgerton season 1 #simon bassett #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #lady danbury #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #simon x daphne #daphne x simon

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spockandawe · 3 years

Note

I just found out about Word of Honor, and I enjoy watching it. Glad found your blog...I see that you already finished the novel, can I ask about the characterization of wen kexing, zhou zishu and scorpion king (my 3 fav characters) between the novel and drama? I know there must be a bit of change (for adaptaions), but is it the change really big between book and drama? Which one that you prefer?

So! This is a really interesting question. I just finished gluing together a bunch of books, so forgive me if I’m really loopy, but this whole thing fascinates me right now and I was thinking about it all while I was playing with glue, so let me answer it and queue it up for a reasonable hour.

The easy one is the scorpion king. He is completely different between novel and show, as in that he’s a whole nother character. In the book, there’s no xie’er, just some mercenary dude. I do definitely favor the show here, because I’m a sucker for a beautiful alarmingly murder-happy boy who is being exploited via his emotional needs, and like, that boy is gorgeous. In the book, that character does not exist. What we have as the scorpion king is some dude with a hell of a voyeurism kink and a gambling addiction. He leads a group of mercenaries and gets involved in similar aspects of the plot, but there’s no emotional entanglement between him and the rest of the story.

Now, I don’t dislike him, Zhou Zishu (and Wen Kexing) show up to crash his place, looking for information, and he’s like cool cool cool, so, let’s make this interesting, why don’t we gamble on it? If you win, you get info, and if I win, you two put on a sexy show for me (wen kexing is like oh no we could never but i mean if you INSIST--), and then the contest is to see who can... eat more needles. But he’s ultimately a much flatter character than Xie’er is, and he doesn’t come packaged with piles of daddy issues, so I’m way more into the show version.

Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing... I want to say that characterization is very consistent between the show and the book, and the main differences stem from the different constraints of the two mediums. Like, the easy one is that in the show, they have to hold back on the gay romance. In the book, Wen Kexing is very up front about his sexual/romantic interest from the start, and Zhou Zishu knows it. There’s also no shixiong/shidi dynamic. In both stories, Zhou Zishu is used to keeping people at arm’s length and has a thin face, and gradually softens up with Wen Kexing as the story progresses. In the show, you get a sharp boost to intimacy when the shixiong/shidi reveal happens, but in the book, he unfurls more slowly over time.

There’s a while where he basically allows Wen Kexing to take liberties, without either pushing him away or reciprocating, and I’m not all the way through the show yet, but I don’t think there’s a stiff, awkward, uncertain period like that in there (and it’s resolved when he asks Wen Kexing how sincere he is about Wanting him, and they almost have sex before weird scorpion man interrupts them, so I have no idea if the show will even try to adapt that scene)

And like happened when I first watched The Untamed, I’m frequently awed by how much a good actor can add to a story through body language and microexpressions that a book just can’t capture, and it’s an especially lovely story element for a plot where so much revolves around that central relationship. I can’t necessarily differentiate between book characterization and show characterization when it comes to this, because they’ve just fused into a seamless whole in my head, but I really am a huge proponent of consuming both forms of media for this exact reason. They don’t clash, and each enhances the other.

OH, the other thing I made note of while I was working. I can’t confirm, because i’m still mid-show, but I’m almost positive that the nature of Wen Kexing’s damage is a notable point of difference (to me, at least?) between the two plots. In both, he had parents, who (I assume) died horribly, with him finding their bodies very directly, leaving him traumatized and alone at a young age. In the book, he was just alone until he took in Gu Xiang (when they were both terribly young)

“I was a child too, and stumbled many times over the course of raising her. I burnt her mouth the first time I fed her congee— For Ah-Xiang to survive until now, it wasn’t easy on me, but in truth... it wasn’t easy on her too.”

Now, I’m not super sure how the show will do this exactly, but no matter how his parents die, even if he finds them like he did in the book (very gruesome, so i kinda doubt the show will go there too explicitly), he still had a shifu and a shixiong somewhere out there, and the gifsets I’ve seen tell me that he cherishes that memory, even if he thinks that he’s stained/corrupted/etc and would only be a disappointment to them. I’m pretty positive I’m in fanon territory here, unless the show gives me some conversations I’m not really expecting, but I think it is a notable change to go from ‘everyone in the world who ever loved me is dead’ to ‘my parents are dead, and even if my shifu and shixiong would hate me now, they loved me once.’ It informs... the nature of how he becomes emotionally dependent on Zhou Zishu and vice versa. Adding that relationship changes a lot of subtle things about how they relate to the world and each other, and I’m not mad about it, it’s just Different (and i narrowly prefer the book).

So! For the scorpion king, the character has been remade entirely, and the novel one is fun enough, but the show version is an incomparable DELIGHT. Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing have pretty consistent characterization, I think, but the different plots mean that slightly different parts of their personalities are revealed. I think both the actors put a ton of work into trying to be faithful to the original characters while they were acting, and it shows. I narrowly prefer the book, but that’s more about plot than the characters themselves. My recommended way to read the book is with at least some clips/gifs of the major characters in action, which is what I did for both mdzs and tyk, and it’s working out for me REAL well so far. So I definitely recommend it! It was a book I enjoyed a whole lot.

#spock replies #word of honor #faraway wanderers #xie'er baby you deserved to be in that book #just like you deserve a not-garbage dad #Anonymous

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theblackbirdsgemimagines · 4 years

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Ramble away, cause I feel the twisted head rot, I kinda wanna see what you think about our bois. ~ a pocket sized dragon hops in excitement.

A POCKET SIZED DWAGOOOOOONNNN 😭💞💞💞 That’s so BLESSED, and tysm omg, I’m very glad to just spill out my barking on every boy, bc yEAH THE BRAIN ROT SKDHAKDB

THE BRAIN ROT IS SO REAL LOL

Everything I breathe ends up relating to TWST in some way, like at this point just let me take my friends, cousins, and pets, and of course Lulu and Seb, and I will have 1. A Gottdamned Harem, 2. So Many Children, and 3. NEVER WANT TO LEAVE. Kwfhskdhjwek

Ok this is gonna be long bc I gotta cover all my boys, so rip lol.

Dorm Leads:

Riddle

GOD, my Fucking Baby, my CHILD, my SWEET BABY BOY, I’M 👁💧👄💧👁

I would die for him, beetch, he is PRECIOUS ♥️

He reminds me of how I feel Ciel would behave if S/O took the place as Sebastian’s contracee, too, so like 🥺 Lots of feels 😭

Is Son, I have adopted him now. If you mistreat him, don’t ever speak to me or my son ever again. I’ll FIGHT his MOM, don’t TEST me. I’m his new mom now. His BIRD mom. So proud of him, he’s like...one of the few that’s actually shown growth in canon after his overblot kshdkadjs

Leona

👁💧👄💧👁

.....I am a Mere Simp....

Ya’ll.... I swearh to ghOD I simped hard for Scar back when I was a wee thing, I did NOT expect to simp for him AGAIN LATER IN LIFE, what the FUCK aidhskdhskdj

Like shit bitch, damn, you may not be king of Afterglow honey, but you can be king of my heart if you wAnt to bb....

Leona: *smiles once, even if it’s smugly*

Me: *WEEPING* Look at hiiiiiiim!! My sunshine booooooy! 😭

Does this make me a furry

Probably

I am too Simp to Care Anymore

I HESITATED TO GET ATTACHED BC THIS BOY LOOKS LIKE A FUCKIN WOMANIZER IF I EVER SAW ONE, BUT HE DRINKS HIS RESPECT WOMEN JUICE EVERY SINGLE MORNING AND I WAS A GONNER SNDJAJDHSJ

FUCK

Call me a Herbivore again, bully me //SLAPPED

Azul

He secretly a lil shit sometimes, but tha’s ok, it’s mostly in a silly way, especially post overblot~ UvU

The sweetest bby everytime I read fanposts on him, like god, ah 💜💜💜 WHOMST COULD BULLY SUCH A CUTE CHUBBY OCTOBABY I’LL FIGHT ALL OF EM!! A sweetheart 10/10 would be his friend 💗 Not making contracts with him tho, lol

...ok maybe SOME after his overblot, but they’re able to be easily reversed now, so it’s way more chill andhsjdj

Kalim

FUCK!!!! F U C K!!!! BABYYYYYYY!!!! BABY!!!! I HAVE ADOPTED HIM IF YOU TOUCH HIM YOU D I E

He is literally so sweet, anytime anyone was like “you’re so nice it’s annoying” I WAS READY TO COME FLYING IN TO BITCH SLAP THEM LIKE AJDHSKDHSJ (even if I also loved them lol)

Like NO you are WRONG whfksjd

He has also grown so much, and I am proud ♥️🧡

Vil

Jesus Christ, canon Vil is Hurting Meeeeee ajdhskdhsj

My fave fanon Vil is the one that recognizes all different types of beauty, though~ uvu and is v encouraging to anyone that may be struggling with self hatred 💜

Canon: Vil is pretty~.

Me: Wow, wtf???? He IS so pretty... How rude I didn’t think you were serious! Wow him??? Pretty??? Wow??? Wow...

Idia

I’m not sure yet, as I haven’t seen him very often, but of the few times that I have: BIG same, huge mood, and Me FUCKING Too, goddamn akdhakdj

Idia is my Anxiety and Anime Nerd personified tbh lol

What Ortho is to him are what all my comfort characters are to me, honestly.

Like what would you like bby, you want that singing voice?? Ok here comes a synthesizer just special for you~. Ily, mwah~ u3u 💕

Malleus

HEAVY BREATHING

Ok maybe it’s just the lack of story/info out on him yet, but I don’t currently simp as hard for him compared to Leona, I’ll admit jajdkajd

BUT BOY HOWDEY DO I EVER STILL S I M P...

He Is Baby... And I Lob Him....

I am going to smooch those horns and forehead crown of beautiful scales 🖤🖤🖤 I am going to do it!!!! Here I go!!!

HE CAN HAVE ALL THE ICE CREAM AND TAMAGATCHI DATES HE WANTS I’M- 😭

This man is too precious for words, and I have so much childhood nostelgia to ‘enchanted’ woods, and being in the mountains, so he has Old Fae Friend vibes to me~🖤

DRAGON FORM DRAGON FORM DRAGON FORM DRAGON FORM DRAGON F-

Ngl I ship him and Leona a lil bit lol

No, not just bc that makes a poly with my two faves easier, but that is a bonus factor jadhajdj

Vice Dorm Heads:

Trey

Oh my god, the Daddy to my Mommy with all these newly adopted lil kids of ours, ya know??? What a wholesome sweetie and funny lil shit jahdksdh~

I love him, I would gladly make tarts with, AND for him 💚💚💚

The kind of boi who I’d ship HARD with anyone he started dating bc My God it would warm my heart So Much 💞💞

Ruggie (unofficial but may as well be at this point lol)

He took a while to grow on me kadhskdhsj

But I think he’d be a sweet, if a trouble-maker of a friend to have~.

Dank you for taking care of my sweet lion bby, honey, I’m sure Farrena is a sweetheart, but boi I hope he gets his shit together to fix up where Ruggie lives 😭

I think if I met his granny, I’d CRY jadhajsh 💗💗

Leech Twins (?)

Idk if they’re vice leaders, but who cares lol

THESE are the older Big Brothers in every sense of the word. (My canon ages most everyone up just a bit, save for Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Kalim, Jamil, Cheka, and anyone already 20+)

The ANNOYING older big brothers, lol.

The ones that hug you to death (Floyd), or use you for an arm rest (Jade), and specifically Do the thing you asked/told them NOT to Do.

This is fine with me tho, I’m an only child, please give me the experience of annoying older brothers lol 💙💚

Jamil

I used to hate you bby, I’m so sorry akdhskdhs

I’ve adopted him now, and I’m v proud he’s trying, but making clear what his boundaries are, and trying to come out of a shell he was made to be in for so long 😭

AND HIS DANCING IS SICK LIKE HONESTLY I’M SUCH A PROUD MOM 💗💗💗

Rook

God. FUCKING Rook, lol.

IDK IF I SHOULD TRUST YOU, but I also kinda wanna be your friend akdhakdjs

HE CONCERNS ME but he also seems nice and v sweet sometimes, lmao

Blz don’t stalk me tho 😬

STOP SHOOTING YOUR ARROWS AROUND SCHOOL YOU BLOODY HEATHEN FRENCH PRISS, YOU ARE GOING TO KILL SOMEONE

Also, if he DARES hunt cute animals around me, especially BIRDS, I am going to GRIP him jahdkahdsk

He’s like if Lord Druitt was a Little More Nice and a Little Bit Less Creepy ajdhak

Lilia:

GOD.

I LOVE THIS FUCKING GRANDPA.

I. FUCKING. LOVE. THIS FUCKING. GRANDPA.

I absolutely hc him as nonbinary w/masc pronouns, I absoLUTELY do.

I adore him, I love him, I haven’t gotten a squish (hardcore desire to be someone’s friend, lol) this hard for a character since AngelDust, I-

Pwease be nonbinary friends with me, Lilia 🥺

THE ONLY PERSON HERE SHORTER THAN ME, BUT I’LL TAKE IT AJDHAKDHJS

Anyone know Corpse and how he plays Among Us? That’s how I see Lilia playing his video games with friends and I JUST I JUST I J U S T

The Spencer to your Carly.

He and Crowley are free to compete as Dad with me too like honestly kshdkadjjs

He’ll always be granpa tho uvu 💚💖🖤

Extras:

Ace

God, the Fucking Annoying Middle Brother that pranks you ALL THE DAMN TIME, but I love him andhakdhsk

Deuce

THE BROTHER THAT WILL BEAT UP YOUR BULLIES 💙💙💙 SWEET BABY BOY

The Josh to Ace’s Drake. The Cody to Ace’s Zack. The Freddie to your Carly and Ace’s Sam.

If he and Ace started dating, tho, I would CRY.

But regardless who they end up dating, it’ll be slow burn friends to lovers, and literally the most adorable shit to watch EVER 💞💞💞😭

Cater

Seems Like A Womanizer But Actually Drinks His Reapect Women Juice And We Stan That 🧡

Can always count on him to help tou get the best Magicram shots, bless you Cater 🧡🧡

Also rly wanna be his friend, ngl 😭 Even IF he pranks me a lot kadhakdhsj

Jack:

H E AV Y BR EA T H IN G

Ngl my feelings for him are in the air IDK IF I WANNA SMOOCH OR NOT YET I JUST KNOW I LOB HIM HE GOODEST BESTEST BOY 💛💛💛😭

If all three Savannaclaw bois got in a cuddle pile with me, I would Not Be Mad

How can I give this boy love, tell me and I will Do It

Gift him all the cacti’s he WANTS💛

God he drinks that respecc women juice bright and early on his run every morning, you KNOW he does 💛💛💛

I wawnt to pet his ears an tail an fwuffy wolf form 😭

I WAWNT TO SEE THE BOY SMILE AND BE HAPPY 💞💞💞

Sebek

CHILL CHILL CHILL CHILL CH-

He is a v devoted guard tho, we love to see it UvU

I don’t have more info on him hekdhskdj but his fanmade content seems v v sweet~ 💚

Silver

HE ATTRACTS BIRDS AND I CRY ABOUT IT PLEASE BE MY FRIEND AND TEACH ME HOW 🥺🥺🥺

Him being raised by Lilia and Malleus literally gives me so much Fucking Seratonin....... God 💞💕💗💗💞💞💗💗💕💞

Ortho

IS BABY????? IS BABY!!!!!! I’M LOVE HIM I’M ADOPTING HIM IS BABYYYYYYY 💙💙💙💙💙

Cheka:

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

He is so FUCKING CUTE what the FUCK!

Leonaaaaaaa... 🥺 Your NEPHEWWWWW 😭

I might steal him from Farrena tbh, lIKE MY CHILD NOW~ 🧡🧡

I just sob and hug him every time I see him honestly 😭

Teachers:

Dire Crowley

Ohhhhhh god oh god oh god

Be my dad. Please. Be my dad. PLEASE be my dad. Ya’ll think I’m joking, I’m not. Please adopt me. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

This man as a father gives me so much dopamine and oxytocin and seratonin??? I have been weeping for WEEKS, please adopt me, Sir

Fathers with zero braincells being wrapped around a daughter’s little finger makes me so weak, and I am just here with Daddy Issues like ajdhakdhsj BLEASE ADOPT ME MISTER BIRD MAN

Crewel

Ew.

Forgive me, I haven’t seen much content with him in it/that could be considered wholesome, bUT JADHWKDJSJ

UncoMFORTABLE

Please keep the kink talk out of the classroom, S I R

Call me puppy one more time, see what happens, I’m not scared to fight a teacher akdhakdhsj

Trein

The Dad Figure that tries to be the stern part to Crowley’s blumbering kahdkqrhsjdj

Don’t feel as much attachment to him emotionally, but I like him~

Just let me pet your cat sometimes and give you holiday presents, and we’re cool~ ♥️

Vargas

Found the womanizer //SMACKED

And of course, I can’t forget Grim~!

He’s grown on me, and if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in the room, and then myself 😭

I will pet and snuggle and hold him all he wants and feed him all the tuna his heart desires uvu 💙

#THIS TOOK A LONG TIME FORGIVE ME JADHSKDHSKDH #MY PHONE WAS LAGGING IN TYPING AFTER A WHILE I WAS LIKE KEEP GOIN BESSY ANDHSJJD #twisted wonderland #twst dorm leaders #twst vice dorm leaders #dire crowley #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #asks #answered #THANK YOU FOR GIVIN ME MORE OF AN EXCUSE JSADBJASDN #<3 <3

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droplet-dread-cat · 3 years

Text

hankisa au

What if Takemichi was able to hold himself back when Kisaki was announced as the new division captain and thought that this was his chance to befriend Kisaki in order to stop him from killing Hina? Along the way, he finds out Kisaki knows him from their childhood days and Takemichi slowly starts to understand what's going on. (Kisaki isn't exactly subtle about his unhealthy obsession with Hina.) And the plan Takemichi - this mentally 26 year old man! - comes up with is to play matchmaker for Hanma (who followed Kisaki into Toman as his vice captain in this version of things) who's obviously the only one crazy enough to fall in love with Kisaki.

Imagine Takemichi awkwardly hyping Hanma up to ask Kisaki out. ("I don't even know if he likes guys." - Hanma

"Haha, well he better does. Or he'll need to die." - Takemichi

"What?" - Hanma

"What?" - Takemichi)

Imagine Takemichi intentionally third wheeling for three consecutive dates in a row (and all of those dates are like one or two days apart from each other because Takemichi forces them to date HARD - he won't let Bloody Halloween be as bloody this time around) to observe if it's going well until he's kicked out of the third by Kisaki who's like: "At this point it should be clear to you that I've grown infatuated with this clown. I will see what I can do about... certain things, don't worry."

Oh, are those DRUGS in your POKET, Kazutora? So disappointed in you. Thought you were better than that. Off you go to juvie for another year or two. ("God, stop looking at me like that. I'll make sure he gets an actually capable therapist. Boy has issues, I'll tell you." - Kisaki

"That's... Wow, you know what? I've never heard something so hypocritical in my life but thank you, Kisaki-kun." - Takemichi)

Baji, the fuck are you even doing in Valhalla at this point? Yeah, come back please... And, for god's sake, stop eyeing our new 3rd Division captain like that. ("Like what?!" - Baji, growling of course

"Like you want to throw him down the stairs. Trust me, Baji-san, he won't do any harm now that Takemitchy has given him a boyfriend!" - Chifuyu, very enthusiastical

"... EH???" - Baji, relatable)

Bloody Halloween is awkward as hell. It's actually "Weirdoween" now because Toman won really really fast. Suspiciously fast. I mean Hanma isn't on Valhalla's side and Mikey isn't specifically targeted. Kazutora has been locked up and Kisaki actually fights a little bit until he's filled up the pensum for believability.

Afterwards, Takemichi decides to travel back to his own timeline.

The worst thing is that it actually worked and when he wakes up, he's living in a crazy expensive apartment with Hina as his girlfriend. Turns out Hanma and Kisaki - now both leading a very shady insurance company - are sort of his sugar daddies. Baji is completely fine and works with Chifuyu and Kazutora at their jointly owned pet store. Emma has inherited her grandpa's dojo where Mikey teaches when he's not at Draken's and Inupi's bike shop.

Naoto is constantly rubbing his temples because imagine you're Naoto in this situation and you just got a heap of memories of Takemichi travelling back in time and you immediately started your research but end up with dating rumours concerning some insurance guys. ("What did you do." - Naoto

"Well, to quote Yagami Light: There was no other way, the world had to be fixed." - Takemichi, looking like this emoji 😜)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers au #kisaki tetta #hanma shuji #takemichi #tachibana naoto #hanma x kisaki #hankisa #i call this the Forced Dating AU

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loki-lover84 · 4 years

Text

Could Be Worse Part VIII

A/N It’s been over two months! I’m so sorry I was stressed about moving into university and literally lost track over everything so I’m settled now and should be more consistent unless I get crushed with course work. Also because it’s been so long I tried to make it worth the wait personally I think it’s adorable but yeah that could just be me, let me know what ya think any way you want. I am keeping my promise as I loved this idea I will finish this (I’ve never finished a series before but this one I’m determined to so when the time comes I hope you like the ending, I might do alternative ones because I still haven’t decided on which ending I want to do so let me know on that too) HOPE YA’LL ENJOY IT!!! ^_^ ^_^

I woke up sober and alone in the bed as all the memorise of last night flashed through my mind. FUCK! I made a pass at Dean and got completely rejected. “We’re not making the same mistake as last time” The hell did he mean by that, we-I got Y/d/n from that night! I thought he adored her, maybe now that he knows she’s his does he really see her as a mistake? NO. Dean isn’t that cruel, well at least he isn’t to Y/d/n.

He was saying I’m the mistake. My heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest then crushed in a vice. Why? Why does it hurt? Dean and I aren’t automatically together because we have a child together. Don’t get attached, Y/n it will only end in tears.

“MUMMY. Look what Daddy and I made!” Y/d/n cheered as she ran into the cabin Dean following closely behind. “It’s a Pulski Axe!” She grinned naively showing off her lighter miniature version of the weapon whilst cutely mispronouncing it.

“Sweetie you’re going to be really careful with that, it is very dangerous.” I explain as calmly as I can for our daughter’s sake, in my mind however Dean was already decapitated.

“Why don’t you carefully show Chuck?” Dean suggests, not realising he’d signed his own death warrant as his only hope skips happily out of the door in search of Chuck.

What the actual hell Dean! She’s three, a three year old shouldn’t have their own Pulaski Axe! Did you have one at her age?”

“No but things were different when I was three for example we weren’t living in the fucking apocalypse!” Dean argued back.

“Do you think she’ll be forced into a situation where no one is there to protect her?”

“I hope not, not again.”

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” I asked my voice wavering.

“When that Croat hoard attacked the pair of you in that abandoned building, you were about to pass out if it wasn’t for me the pair of you might not be here!” Dean snapped his feelings getting the best of him as frustrated tears welled in his eyes.

He was right, the whole reason we’re here is because he saved us.

“You’re right but, she’s three. I want her to have a childhood ya’know? Fun, impulsive, naïve days that everyone deserves.” I whimper realising this may never actually be a possibility for her.

Not fully certain that he should, Dean pulls me in for a hug and just holds me while I break in his arms. He lowers his head and rests it on top of my own squeezing me slightly tighter once I fist his jacket keeping him close to me.

“I know this isn’t ideal but it’s the unfortunate reality we’re living in.” Dean says his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank you Dean.”

“For what?”

“Everything: sparing us the first time round, saving us the time after, taking care of us whilst we’re here and for making our daughter.” I smile through the tears as I nuzzle my face into his chest.

The moment was starting to feel nicer, I was more relaxed I was accepting that my daughter needed to be armed despite her infantile age.

“Dean, we need to talk!” The door to my hut was flung open and a woman yelling ruined the moment. “It’s important.”

I tried to pull away slightly to give the woman who I was able to identify as Jane the opportunity to talk to Dean about whatever but, Dean refused to release me and kept me close to him glaring at Jane.

“Now isn’t the time, if there was something truly urgent Cas or Chuck would be here, not you.”

“I think we should discuss it in private.” Jane urged scowling at me.

This is my home I’m not leaving it! Who does she think she is barging in here?

“I trust Y/n and if it is truly an important situation shouldn’t everyone know?” Dean remarks.

“Fine! You want to know, I’m pregnant and it’s yours.” Jane say folding her arms and wearing a smug expression.

“Oh yeah well how can you be so sure it’s Dean’s?” I growl at her accusation of him being her unborn child’s father.

“What are you trying to say?” Jane snaps at me her stance shifting into a hostile one.

Oh shit, I didn’t actually mean it like that but, I am aware that she’s shacked up with a few other people since I’ve been here.

“Well you aren’t really one for keeping it to yourself.” Dean replies.

“The dates match up asshole and you weren’t protected that night.” Jane says her piercing blue eyes staying locked on my e/c ones as she cocks an eyebrow cockily.

I pull away from Dean slightly and I can tell that it disheartened him. In my defence though he slept with someone else unprotected, does he ever wrap up? I’m not sure I want to even consider the concepts of him being in other women bare.

“I wasn’t the only person you slept with the last time we did it.” Dean snaps, “ I don’t remember much of that night but I’m almost certain that I was wearing a condom.” He adds glancing at me as if to persuade me.

“Wow Dean you’re neglecting our baby before they’re even born!”

My mind was clouded I didn’t know who to trust, I wish I could trust Dean but from first hand experience I know he doesn’t always wear contraception on one night stands. Jane other than at this moment didn’t seem to have any issues with me unlike Dean’s ex conquests.

“If ya really want to know who the father is, maybe you should just go see Cas.” I think aloud as the pair look at me, Dean’s eyes hold an element of hope unlike Jane’s that holds panic and fear fully aware that her disrespectful attitude to their ‘leader’ can result in punishment.

“I think that’s a good idea. How about we go see him now?” Dean suggests challenging Jane.

“Fine yeah I don’t see why not.” Jane says with false confidence leading the way.

Dean encourages me to be there to find out the result just so I can hear the definitive truth in person. On the way over I see my baby swinging her little axe at a children’s training dummy with Chuck supervising, I’m filled with pride but also fear at the sight. I take a deep breath to calm myself this is her unfortunate reality but she’s going to prosper.

“She’ll be fine.” Dean whispers with a prideful look on his handsome face, as we walk into Cas’s hut.

“Ah Dean, Y/n and...Jane?” I stifle a laugh at the fact that Castiel didn’t know her name despite her being here much longer than me. “This is a surprise, now is it a pleasant one or not?”

“Y/n here says you should be able to tell me who the father of my baby is, I was pretty certain it’s Dean’s but he refuses to believe me.” Jane explains.

Cas studies her for a moment focusing his eyes on her, his arms folded as he approaches her for closer inspection.

“With good reason, he isn’t the father of your child Jake is.” Cas shrugged as Jane’s eyes widened and Dean scowled at her unnecessarily harshly in my opinion before she fled.

“She’s not getting out of this that easily, now I’ve got to think of a suitable consequence.” Dean grumbled to himself.

“Dean you’ve got to be careful what ya do, the pregnancy part was true.” I say.

“I wouldn’t care if she lost it!” Dean seethed filling me with an undeniable rage, how could he say that about someone’s child, this isn’t the Dean I’ve got to know.

“Dean! How could you! That’s-” I was midway through yelling at him when he cut me off.

“Jake, is the one that was nearly responsible for killing our daughter! He was driving that vehicle, he ignored your screams to stop. If he was okay with nearly killing our girl why shouldn’t I be okay with returning the favour!” Dean erupted his arms flailing frustratedly as he clued me in on this news.

“Okay... I understand why you feel that way now De but, that would make you worse than him and you aren’t. You’re a good man, with a big heart whether or not anyone else knows it, you’ve been through so much and heck you’re still going through so much yet, you still spare your time to be with me and our daughter even when you should be sleeping you choose to spend that time with us. You still clearly love your brother despite everything, you’re still here for Cas and you put everyone before you. So please, accept that you aren’t a monster and admit that you didn’t actually mean that.” I declare hoping he’d actually believe my words.

Dean didn’t say anything he just gazed at me for a moment before stepping closer to me, his large rough hand rested on my cheek making my heart flutter as my eyes fixed onto his stunning green ones. Dean tilted my head up slightly before leaning down and capturing my lips in a deep love filled passionate kiss our eyes fluttering closed, his other arm snaked around my waist pressing me firmly against his body as I kiss him back to the best of my ability and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him deeper to me. I got so lost in the kiss that I forgot that Castiel was still in the room with us.

After a while we parted for oxygen but not only that but I was sort of losing my balance. An applause erupted from beside us and we turn to see Cas with a silly grin on his face, Chuck and our Y/d/n. When they can in I haven’t the faintest clue. I could feel my cheeks heat up as a rosy blush stained my cheeks, Dean just smirked and held me close to him.

“Does that mean mummy and daddy love each other?” Y/d/n asked the room innocently.

I knew my answer, I should think that Dean shared the same answer as me but part of me couldn’t help but doubt it.

“Yes, it does Sweetheart.” Dean replied after glancing down at me and turning to face her.

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aggieadventuress · 4 years

Text

I’m Okay, I Promise. Except I’m Lying.

by @aggieadventuress for @romeoandjulietyouwish for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Summary: 5 times Peter told Tony he didn’t want to be touched +1 time Tony didn’t listen.

Read on ao3:

Peter jolted awake in bed, panting from the adrenaline of his nightmare and soaked with sweat. He tried to orient himself but he hadn’t smacked his head on the top bunk like normal and clearly this wasn’t his bed, it was too soft. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city outside their apartment walls and he felt completely lost for a few moments before realizing that he was in the guest bedroom at Mr. Stark's lake house. Because it had been 5 years, and he didn’t have a set of bunk beds in their apartment in Queens. Because May didn’t live in that apartment anymore, she lived in Manhattan. With Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark’s head of security but more importantly, her boyfriend.

He was staying at the lake house for the summer while May and Happy were off on some relief worker trip. As bad as things were in New York after the second snap, a lot of countries were even worse off and May, ever the philanthropist, had to help. She originally wasn't going to go when her hospital brought up the opportunity, worried about Peter, but he assured her he would be fine because he didn't want to stand in the way of her helping people who really needed it. He was fine, or was at least close to fine. Or, he was getting to be close to fine.

Peter could not let himself spiral further into his state of panic, it was hard enough to breathe already, he needed to focus on doing that right now. He stared down into his lap, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. In and out, that’s all he needed to do.

Peter was so focused on controlling his breathing that he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked into his bedroom. He felt the dip of the bed next to him though and turned his head to the side to verify who he already knew it was.

Mr. Stark was wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt and had clearly actually been asleep, which was so different from the man Peter had known before the snap. Before Mr. Stark would have been wide awake, wired on caffeine and inventing something crazy in his lab, but that just showed how much had changed.

Before either of them had time to speak, a bleary-eyed Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Peter? Daddy? Are you okay?” Morgan asked, drowsily rubbing a fist at one of her eyes still half-asleep.

“I’m fine Morgs, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter replied, his stomach clenching with guilt for disturbing her.

“You didn’t wake me up, Daddy did. He was being loud in the hallway talking to Friday so I wanted to see,” Morgan said.

That didn’t make Peter feel much better, because whether he had directly woken Morgan or Friday and Tony had woken her up while discussing him, which is what he assumed would have been happening, it was still his fault.

Morgan came into the room and crawled up on the bed on the side of Peter that Tony wasn’t occupying. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked innocently and then without waiting for a response, “I have bad dreams sometimes. You should ask daddy for a hug. That will fix it.” Morgan spoke pragmatically as if the solution to all of Peter’s problems was that simple.

“Kids right, I’ve been known to have pretty spectacular hugs. Can scare away all of the monsters within a three-mile radius,” Tony deadpanned, but his tone was betrayed by the small smile on his face.

Morgan nodded vehemently in agreement with her dad’s statement. “It’s true,” she added seriously, “I’ve never once seen a monster while daddy was holding me. I’ve never even felt scared if I was in his arms.”

“I have,” Peter muttered under his breath, thinking it was too quiet to hear and still staring at his sheets so he didn’t see the absolutely crestfallen look on Tony’s face at his confession. Tony knew immediately what Peter was talking about. The kid had dissolved in his arms on an alien planet and no amount of hugging would ever make the fear from that memory go away.

“Could I at least try?” Tony asked, moving in for a hug, but pausing when Peter flinched and moved away from him.

“No thanks. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t…I mean, I’m fine. I really don’t want a hug right now. I actually could use a little bit of space. A few minutes, just to myself. Please.”

Tony dropped his arms slowly to his sides and stood from the bed. “Of course, whatever you need Peter. But it’s a standing offer, free hugs whenever you want them. Day or night. It’s the same for Morgan, I’m always available.

Peter nodded but his gaze had returned to his lap. Tony reached out a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder but then thought better of it. He wasn’t a psychologist but after all of the trauma Peter had been through, he figured it was a completely valid response to want space right now. He needed to respect that, as much as it killed him to watch his kid suffer. He just wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until all of his pain melted away, but that wasn’t an option if it wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“Well, I’m going to take the princess…” Tony started to say.

“I was promoted to Prime Minister daddy, you know that,” Morgan interrupted exasperated.

“Sorry, of course. I am going to take the Prime Minister back to her own bed now, do you think you can try to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded into his lap again and Tony couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him seeing how dejected Peter was.

“Right,” He said, not believing Peter for a second, “well if you can’t, let me know and we can watch a movie or something. I hear 2 am is the best time to watch Star Wars.” When even that didn’t elicit more than a grunt of response, he knew it was time to let it go and give Peter the space he so clearly wanted.

“Come along Madame Prime Minister,” Tony said, scooping Morgan into his arms and carrying her through the door.

“I answer to your Royal Lordship now,” Peter heard Morgan explain from the hallway on the way back to her room.

“I’ve been thinking that I should take over the world. I think people would be a lot happier as my royal subjects then they are right now. And Gerald has said he would be my Vice Queen and I think he’d do a pretty good job. Mommy can be an advisor and I think you would make a very good royal train conductor. Did you know that an engineer is another word for a train conductor?”

“Thanks, Morgana, but I think you should wait until your a little older to start planning your world domination. Mull it over a bit more. It’d be awfully time consuming and I don’t know that you’d have time to host your famous tea parties.”

“Your probably right. I’m much too busy to be a ruler right now.”

Peter lay back in his bed, still wide-awake, staring at his ceiling and listening to the conversation Tony and Morgan were having as the man tried to put her back to bed. He ached to let the man hold him and comfort him like he did Morgan. He wanted to let his mentor wrap his arms around him like some sort of shield from the realities of the world. But he couldn’t have that. He was too broken and too damaged to let Tony touch him - to let anyone touch him right now. If he gave in and let Tony hold him, Peter knew that little bit of comfort would make him fall apart and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

He was caught up in his own self deprecating thoughts and didn’t immediately notice when Tony reappeared in his doorway.

“So what’s the plan, sleep or movie? I am absolutely down for either,” Tony offered quietly.

“I’ll just go back to sleep I think. Thanks for the offer though,” Peter answered, exhaustion making his voice sound hoarse.

Tony looked at him appraisingly, seemingly trying to decide if he was going to let this go or if he was going to push the issue. “Okay, well if you need anything, just come get me, or if you don’t want to, ask Friday. I don’t usually sleep much anyway so don’t worry that you might wake me, I’ll probably be working or something anyway,” Tony tried to comfort Peter, but he saw through the offer. He knew Tony actually did sleep now that he had his own kid and a somewhat normal life, but he appreciated that the lie was supposed to help ease his guilt.

Tony hesitated in the doorway and then turned to go. He stopped a few steps into the hallway and turned back to look at Peter. Peter met his eyes for the first time that night.

“Peter, you can talk to me about anything,” Mr. Stark’s voice was pleading, “You know that, right?”

Peter nodded and then moved to lay back down under his covers and added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 2 -

It was Friday and Peter had been at the lake house for five days and hadn’t slept through the night for any of them. He had explicitly told Friday not to inform Mr. Stark when he had a nightmare but either she hadn’t listened, or the man had some sort of sixth sense because he would always come. Before Peter could orient himself and catch his breath, Mr. Stark would be there. They had fallen into a routine of sorts; the man would sit next to him in silence for a few minutes while Peter collected himself. If Peter was having a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark would breathe really deeply, slowly, encouraging Peter to copy him. Once he had calmed down a bit, Mr. Stark would ask him if he wanted to talk and Peter would always say no. After the second night when Mr. Stark had tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Peter had violently flinched away and ended up tumbling out of his bed, Mr. Stark had kept his distance. Peter wanted to scream in frustration at how much he wanted to give in and just accept a stupid hug, but he couldn’t. Mr. Stark would always offer to stay with him or to go down to the living room or something, but Peter always sent him away, and the man always reluctantly listened.

Apparently, Friday night was movie night, and Morgan had made it very clear that his participation was not optional, no matter how exhausted he was, so that is how Peter found himself standing just outside the living room on the verge of a complete panic attack. The Starks were all sitting on the couch, Morgan between Pepper and Tony, and they had clearly left a space for him on Tony’s other side. Fortunately, everyone was focused forward on the television discussing the movie selection so no one noticed Peter staring at the couch and having an internal freak-out about whether or not he could actually handle sitting that close to Mr. Stark.

Finally, he decided to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room and made to walk over there. His movement caught Tony’s eye.

“Hey kid, come sit with us,” he offered, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Yah Petey, come sit with us,” Morgan echoed.

“No thank Morgs,” Peter opted to respond to her instead of Tony, hoping it would be easier. “I take up a lot of space so I’m going to claim this whole chair for myself.”

Morgan squinted her eyes and stared at him as if trying to assess if this was an acceptable explanation or if she found his “a lot of space” determination to be accurate. He must have passed her inspection because she didn’t look happy, but she eventually nodded and turned back toward the TV.

Tony was not so easy to appease and the man stared at Peter with a questioning look in his eyes. Peter wanted to tell him that he was afraid to sit next to him in case he relaxed too much and fell asleep. He was afraid that if he curled up in that corner of the couch, so close to the protective embrace of his mentor, he might be able to breathe a little better and abate his anxiety just for a bit. If he let himself sleep, he would dream, and if he dreamt, he’d be on Titan again and he just couldn’t handle it right now. He had adjusted to the near constant state of tension in his body and knew better than to all of a sudden let himself relax.

He broke eye contact with Mr. Stark, settled into the arm chair, and turned to face the TV. Now that he was seated Morgan instructed Friday, “Play the Incredibles, Friday!” And the movie started.

Peter could barely focus on the screen because he was so tired. Despite his distance, he could hear the comforting, steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart underneath the noise of the movie. Combined with the dim lighting in the room and the very comfortable chair he was curled up in, keeping his eyes open was a battle. Each blink lasted a bit longer than the one before until his eyes slid shut and stayed closed.

The moment he drifted to sleep in the Stark’s living room, he ‘awoke’ in the dark void of the soul stone. Alone. Completely alone. The nightmare tormented him with the feeling of dust coating his nose and mouth, with the sticky heat from his suit and with the familiar panic of being lost and abandoned in a sea of nothing. He had no concept of how much time passed in his dream, but in the midst of the nothingness, he felt an arm beneath his knees and another under his back, and then he was being lifted in the air. Peter abruptly awoke from his dream and jerked away from whatever was holding him and tumbled to the ground, his head smacking into the wooden floor with a loud ‘crack.’

“Christ kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tony dropped to his knees next to Peter, his hands reaching out for the boy to check for injuries before he stopped himself and put them up in the air in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “The movie was over and you were asleep. You’ve looked so tired lately and I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to carry you up to your own bed. I thought that would be more comfortable. Pepper just took Morgan upstairs. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were having a nightmare. Although I should have guessed.” Tony said the last part more to himself.

Peter was still lying on the ground but pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. Thanks for waking me, I can take myself to bed though,” Peter said and then pushed himself the rest of the way up. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and Tony’s hand hovered just below his elbow, ready to catch him, but he regained his balance after a moment.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded desperate as he pled with Peter, “I want to help you. I know that you have been through so much, so much more than anyone should ever have to go through, please. Talk to me, let me help.”

Peter shook his head and started to walk toward the stairs, to go upstairs and lie awake in his own bed since he was certain there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night. “I appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I just need sleep, that’s all. Nothing wrong.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark started again but Peter didn’t allow the man to continue. He glanced behind him before continuing upstairs and assured Tony, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 3 -

Morgan spent all of breakfast on Saturday pestering Tony about going down to the lake to swim because it was a "bazillion and six degrees daddy" and she absolutely wouldn't survive the heat. Tony had protested that he had work to do, and as much as he'd like to go swimming, she would have to wait until later that afternoon so that he could watch her.

Peter was passively listening to their conversation, picking at the waffles on his plate, so exhausted that he didn't even feel hungry. Tony had been eyeing his still very-full plate but so far had not commented on it.

"I can take her," Peter heard himself offering, not entirely sure what compelled him to say that.

Tony looked at him with surprise, "Are you sure? You don't have to, she won't actually die, I assure you."

"Sure," Peter said. He had made the offer and Morgan had perked up considerably from her moping at his suggestion, he wasn't going to back out on her now. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't sleep and that he constantly felt like there was electricity running through his body from persistent anxiety.

"Daddy!" Tony was standing in the kitchen and heard his daughters scream coming from down by the lake. He dropped the plate he was holding and didn't even register as it shattered on the ground next to him, he was already out the door and running down to the dock.

He was pressing buttons on his watch, calling a medical suit to himself in preparation for whatever he was about to encounter. He wouldn't even let himself think of what could be waiting for him and all the hazards that swimming in the lake presented.

His heartbeat slowed just slightly as he approached the dock and saw both his kids were safely on dry land, alleviating his deepest fear that he had refused to admit, that he would find one of his kids drowning in the lake because he had been too 'busy' to come down here with them. He would never forgive himself it that ever happened and vowed that no one would go near the water again without him present. Him and a suit standing by for whatever emergency might present itself. He could plan for all that later though, right now he needed to determine what had caused his daughter panic.

As soon as Morgan caught sight of him, she ran to meet him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward Peter. There were tear tracks running down her face and she was hiccupping through her own sobs.

"Something is wrong with Petey," she cried, "I asked him to jump off the dock with me and then as soon as we got in the water he started freaking out. He pulled us both out and he's just been sitting there crying and breathing real hard. He won't answer me and he pushed me when I tried to hug him," Morgan sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," Tony tried to soothe as they came up next to Peter, "Can you please go wait for me on the porch Morgs? I don't want you near the water and I want to be able to help Peter without worrying."

Morgan nodded, though she seemed uneasy about leaving Peter.

"Mommy is on her way home," Tony soothed her. Pepper would have gotten a notification as soon as he activated a medic suit and would probably be flying home in her own as they spoke.

“In fact," Tony thought, "Why don't you take my phone and call Mommy and talk to her. She is headed back but might be a little bit worried and will want to hear from you that you are okay." Tony pulled his phone out, Friday would have already let Pepper know everyone was okay, but it couldn’t hurt. Morgan took the phone and looked at Peter's trembling form with fear in her eyes before running toward the cabin.

With one less thing to worry about, Tony turned to the shaking kid in front of him. For the most part, Peter sat motionless except for the trembling in his shoulders. Not wanting to startle him, Tony moved around to get in front of him and in his line of sight before getting down on his knees to be on eye level.

His heart broke as he took in the sopping wet hair on Peter's head and the lake water mixing with tears as it dripped down his face.

"Hey Pete," He tried to be as gentle as possible, "are you with me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Peter continued to just stare directly ahead, eyes glazed over, not really looking at Tony, but past him and over the water. Tony very slowly reached out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact, Peter jolted into awareness and practically leapt backward to get away from him. Tony saw the glazed over look had been replaced with wild-eyed terror and he sat motionless, hands held up in front of him trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, waiting for Peter to recognize his surroundings.

After a few moments, the heaving breaths in Peter's chest slowed and his gaze stopped wandering around and settled on Tony.

"Hey bud, Are you with me now?" Tony tried again, keeping his voice soft and slowly lowering his hands, keeping them in view still in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.

Peter waited a moment, giving Tony an assessing gaze before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That's really good. Can you help me understand what happened?" Tony cajoled.

Peter paused again before shaking his head and then softly adding, "I'm fine."

Tony had to hold back a snort at such a blatant lie from the kid, but it wouldn't do him any good to make Peter feel belittled.

"Is Morgan okay? I didn't mean to scare her," Peter added, finally looking up to meet Tony's eye.

"Morgan is completely fine. She just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's with Pepper."

Peter wasn't completely sure how it had happened, but the moment his feet his the water he was back in the lake, wrapped in a parachute and drowning. His brain stopped working but some instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was pulling himself and Morgan out of the lake, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"Petey, why'd we get out?" Morgan asked, the pout on her face evidence in her voice.

Peter tried to reply to her but all that came out was a wheezing breath and then he wasn't sitting on the dock anymore. He was drowning again or floating in nothingness as dust. His body was on fire from the pain of turning to dust, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He was too far gone to hear Morgan screaming for her dad. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he came back to awareness and jumped back out of reach of whoever might be trying to hurt him. He looked around frantically to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby and in any danger from this attacker but eventually his gaze settled on Tony and he realized that the threat was all in his head. He should have known that his spidey-sense would have warned him if there was a true threat and it had been nearly silent since he'd arrived here. The buzz of his anxiety was his only companion right now.

He registered it was Tony in front of him and felt an overwhelming urge to just run and collapse into his arms and let his mentor comfort him, but he couldn't. He craved the comfort he knew Tony would provide, but he couldn't accept it. He was so on edge, he was terrified of letting the man get close only for Peter to panic and lash out and hurt him. So he tried to push him away physically and emotionally. It was better for them both that way.

"Let's get you warmed up," Tony said, holding out a hand to help Peter up, but the kid ignored him and stood, somewhat shakily on his own. They walked up toward the house together, Tony keeping one hand behind Peter, making sure not to touch him but wanting to be prepared if he stumbled. When they got inside Tony led Peter upstairs to his and Pepper's room. Peter hesitated in the doorway before following him in. He pulled out the fluffiest towels that they had and draped one around Peter's shoulders. He made to use the other to towel off the kid's hair, but as soon as Peter registered his intent, he was ducked out of the way.

"I can do that," Peter said. Tony wanted to scream but held it back and tried to keep his face neutral.

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind," Tony tried one last time.

"Yes," Peter said vehemently.

Tony relinquished the towel and stood back as helplessly as Peter dried his curls somewhat awkwardly with one towel while trying to hold the other one around his shoulders. Tony finally decided he needed to be helpful and went to get some warm clothes out of Peter's room. The kid still didn't have very much, and Tony made a mental note to order him more clothes, before returning to his own room to supplement the kid's things with his own sweat pants and hoodie.

He held out the clothes to Peter once it was clear the kid had accomplished all he was going to getting dry by himself and Peter disappeared into the bathroom to change. Tony sat down on the bed while he waited.

When Peter reappeared looking even younger than he was, if that was possible, wearing Tony's clothes, Tony tried to bring up the conversation again.

"Hey, kid. We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you have been so brave and you have every right to get a little freaked out by the water," Tony tried to start the conversation. But Peter wasn't having it.

Peter shook his head no and replied, "I'm okay, I promise,"

- 4 -

It was July before he knew it and a month had passed at the lake. Peter was actually enjoying his time at the lake - playing with Morgan, working on tech with Tony, having family dinners - but he still couldn’t sleep and he still couldn't get to close to his mentor without feeling like he was going to dissolve. Tony knew something was wrong and kept trying to broach the subject, but Peter refused to talk about it and Tony never got frustrated or pushed him. He steadily reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere and would be there when Peter was ready to talk.

Peter felt on edge the whole day and couldn’t pinpoint why. He tried to push it aside and enjoy the hamburgers they grilled and the shortcake that Pepper had baked. As darkness fell, they moved from the patio table down to some lounge chairs facing the lake and settled in for the show.

The first firework burst in the sky just a moment before the noise of the explosion. That almost unnoticeable delay between the speed of light and the speed of sound. It was there though, a fraction of a second for Peter to enjoy the beauty of the firework before the sound caused his head to erupt into pain and his mind to start spiraling into the bad place.

All of a sudden he was no longer at the lake, he was on a battlefield, fighting against aliens who they had already lost to once. There was a cacophony of violence around him and Peter couldn’t stop to process it because he had to keep fighting. His life and half of the population of the world depended on it.

More fireworks went off and Peter collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself with his head between his knees and his hands clawing at his ears trying to block out some of the sounds. A hand reached out to touch him and it felt like fire coming in contact with his skin. His senses were out of control and he could count the fibers in the shirt he was wearing and the blades of grass beneath his legs. He heard screaming and then realized that the noise was coming from him.

Peter fought against the stars in his vision, trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and then something metal brushed his hair and a helmet was placed over his head. Immediately, the world dulled. The noise of the fireworks was muffled, the light from the moon and the fireworks was dimmed to nearly black. Peter let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking through the lenses of the iron man helmet to see Tony squatting in front of him with a look of panic on his face. When Tony realized that Peter was looking at him, he mimed standing up and going into the house and then tilted his head at Peter to make it a question. Peter nodded, which felt odd in the bulky helmet and painfully got to his feet. Mr. Stark didn’t try to help him after his touch had elicited such a pained scream earlier, but he hovered close by in case he was needed.

Slowly, they made their way back into the house, Peter flinching every time another firework went off despite the silencing effects of the helmet. Once they were through the door Tony led him down the hall to the room he was staying in and then directly into the closet. Peter wasn’t sure why, but noticed the complete darkness of the space and thought it was as good of a place as any. Out of nowhere Mr. Stark produced a set of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of very dark sunglasses and held them out to Peter. Peter didn’t look forward to removing the helmet but knew it would be more comfortable to have the headphones on. The less coming into contact with his skin, the better.

Slowly he lifted the helmet, surprised how well the closet was blocking the noise, though it was still too much to hear. Quickly, he exchanged the helmet for the headphones and the glasses and settled them on his face. Then he sunk down to the floor, curling back in on himself and trying to touch as little as possible to his skin.

He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. The salt burned on his oversensitive skin but that did nothing to stop him. He just kept his head down let himself silently cry. He wanted nothing more than to let Tony shield him from all the noise and light and fear, he knew being touched would be excruciating. Instead, they just sat there in darkness for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Peter’s senses dulled back to a more manageable state and after looking to Tony for confirmation that the outside world would be quiet, Peter eased the headphones off his head and was met with blessed silence.

“Hey,” Tony spoke so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear him without his enhancements, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Peter answered automatically.

“Kid,” Tony tried again, still gentle but clearly not believing him, “after everything that has happened, I should have thought about the effect explosions might have. That’s on me. Your response was valid and I’m sorry to have triggered that. If you want to talk about it, with me, or even with someone else,” Tony tried to offer but Peter cut him off.

“It isn’t anything big, it was just a lot for my senses. Enhanced hearing and whatnot,” Peter tried to justify, seeing the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face but knowing the man wouldn't openly challenge him on this. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark saw right through him, but he wasn't ready to admit to anything yet. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m okay, I promise.”

- 5 -

Pepper and Tony were both tied up on phone calls and Peter had offered to make Morgan lunch. Morgan had begged him to let her help and he had thought asking her to pick out some fruit to go with her sandwich wouldn't be so bad. He should have realized that any kid of Tony's would go the extra mile and end up in trouble, and instead of deciding on a fruit, Morgan had retrieved an apple from the counter and somehow got ahold of a knife and was attempting to cut it herself. Peter could swear his back was only turned for a second and next thing he knew, she had climbed onto the counter and was waving the knife around the air pretending it was a sword and apple in front of her was an unruly subject of the crown being beheaded (he thought he heard her use the word guillotine but couldn't be sure and had no idea where she would have picked it up but chose to let that part go for nowHey Morgs, you aren't supposed to be using a knife," Peter tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, not wanting to be mean or to startle Morgan.

"Oops," Morgan looked at him sheepishly, obviously knowing she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Hand it over kid," he said, holding out a hand for the knife. Morgan moved to give it to him but then there was a loud thud from upstairs. She whipped around to try and see the origin of the noise, and her sudden movement caused the knife to cut right through Peter's forearm.

He hissed out a breath at the sting which drew Morgans attention. She gasped when she saw what she had done and immediately dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor, thankfully missing impaling Peter's foot by a couple of inches.

“I'm so sorry Petey," Morgan wailed, "I didn't mean to hurt you.”

"It's okay, Morgan. I'm fine, just a little scratch," Peter tried to console her while he wrapped a kitchen towel around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. Before he could figure out what the logical next step was, Tony appeared in the doorway, probably having heard Morgan's cries from upstairs. He had walked around the corner, still partially listening to someone on the phone, but the moment his eyes landed on Peter and countertop that was pretty well covered with blood, the phone slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"What happened!" Tony asked, moving quickly toward the two of them and eyeing Morgan up-and-down to check for injuries. Once he determined that her tears were only from emotional distress and not from physical harm, he moved his attention to Peter.

"Little mishap. It's my fault, I wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm so sorry," Peter stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for letting Morgan get her hands on a knife and putting her in harm's way.

Tony had been looking around the room for something and when his eyes landed on the bloody knife on the floor by Peter's foot. He looked between the knife and Peter's arm.

"Did your sister STAB you?" Tony asked, sounding confused and terrified as he looked between the knife and Morgan.

Peter was too out of it from blood loss and shock to even register that Tony had referred to Morgan as his sister, "No!" he exclaimed, "it was an accident."

Tony shook his head, "we will talk about this later. I want to hear the whole story," he said, more to Morgan than Peter, and she just nodded her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"Come on Pete, let's move up to the bathroom, that's where the first-aid kit is. Are you feeling light-headed? Can you walk okay? You can sit here, I can bring it down maybe. This is a lot of blood..." Tony trailed off, seeming to debate with himself if Peter was fit to walk.

"It's fine. I don't want to get blood on the carpets though," Peter replied, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed, he wasn't going to admit to it.

"I don't give a damn about the carpets, Peter. The very bottom of the list of things I care about actually. I was debating getting rid of them just because. I hope you get blood on them honestly, it would give me a good excuse," Tony half-joked, but he was still looking worried.

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's non-injured arm and to help him upstairs, but Peter instinctively moved away from the man before he could touch him. It was just a habit at this point.

"Right," Tony said, more to himself than to Peter, when he realized the kid wasn't going to let him help. "At least let me walk behind you so I can catch you if you pass out,"

Peter tried to determine if the man was joking, but the look on his face told him it was a serious request. Peter nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, Mr. Stark following closely behind him.

At that moment, Pepper came around the corner, apparently having taken notice of the commotion in the kitchen. She quickly and silently assessed the situation before swooping in and picking Morgan up from the middle of the mess on the counter.

"Do you need any help," She asked Tony, there were unspoken questions hanging in her voice, but she wasn't going to pry while Peter was actively bleeding.

"I think we can manage," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Peter.

"Okay, just yell if you need anything," She said, "I'm going to give Morgan a bath."

Peter continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using all of his energy to keep from swaying too much or from giving in and passing out. After what felt like an eternity, per Tony's instructions, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the Stark's master bathroom. He wanted to feel awkward to be in their room again, but he was fully distracted by his arm.

Tony fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinets and knelt down in front of Peter.

"Can I take the towel off and get a better look," Tony asked.

"Um, I can unwrap it," Peter offered, moving to do it himself.

Tony hissed when the last layer of towel came away and he could see the angry cut running up his arm.

"She really got you good there kid. I think you might need stitches," He mused.

"It's not as bad as it looked," Peter defended. "Besides, I heal fast."

Tony shook his head, "I still think you need stitches. We have everything to do it here so we don't even have to go to the hospital. Rhodey put as all through field-medic training. I can do them for you.”

Peter waited for Tony to finish and then gave a firm, "No. I can do it myself if I need to. I've done it plenty of time."

Tony just stared at him, seemingly unsure of what to say. "What do you mean you've done it plenty of times? When have you been stitching yourself up???" he finally asked.

Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at his cut, "I was out doing the hero thing before I met you. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube these days."

Tony looked horrified at the idea of a fourteen-year-old Peter stitching himself up after a rough patrol. "Are you sure you won't let me help?" he tried, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"No. I can do it." Peter said resolutely. Tony gave in and started taking things out of the kit and handing them to Peter. Disinfectant, gauze, a numbing gel that Peter was certain would accomplish nothing but that he used just to appease the other man. Finally everything was clean and Tony hesitantly handed over the suture kit.

"I really don't like this kid. Can we just go to the hospital instead? Or I can call Rhodey or Bruce or something?" He tried one last time.

"It's fine Mr. Stark, I can do it," Peter assured him.

Tony sat stoically while Peter sewed up his cut, flinching every time the needle pierced his skin as though it was him getting the stitches. Peter made quick work of the injury and was soon accepting a bandage from Tony and binding up his injury.

"Look, good as new," Peter said lightly, trying to alleviate that tension that had settled over the room while he worked.

Tony examined him closely, seeming to search Peter's face, but for what, he didn't know.

"Okay, how about we head down to the living room. You need to eat something for your spidey-metabolism and I don't want you taking pain meds on an empty stomach."

Peter stood from the tub and swayed a bit when he got to his feet. Mr. Stark moved to help him but stopped just short. "Can I help, please?" Tony asked.

Peter shook his head no. "I can walk on my own. I'm okay, I promise."

Tony was growing increasingly concerned. Watching Peter fighting to pull himself out of panic attacks without accepting any help was torture. The kid was 15 but had been through more trauma than most adults and Tony just desperately wanted Peter to let him be a parent and help bear that burden for him.

He was so conflicted as to where the line fell between giving Peter the space he needed and following his cues as to what would be helpful versus seeing where it wasn't working anymore and he had to play the adult card and step in. Peter had been fighting this battle by himself for over a month and if the kid didn’t start to get some real sleep, Tony was going to have to call in Dr. Cho or Bruce to work on some drugs for him because he was dead on his feet.

Mind made up, Tony set out to look for Peter. He found him sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at the horizon, and walked out to join him. He knew Peter could hear him approach but the kid was either too caught up in his own thoughts to notice, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t make any move to acknowledge Tony’s presence. Tony took a lack of rejection as an invitation to join him and sat down next to his kid, leaving a few inches between them. He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing Peter, with the water off to his side.

“Kid, whatever it is that you think you have to handle on your own, you don’t,” Tony started, pleading in his voice, “I would do anything for you. I would go through it all a hundred times so that you wouldn’t have to experience any of it once, but I can’t do that. And it kills me to watch you suffer alone,” Tony’s voice cracked and he felt his own tears falling now, “I am begging you, Peter, if you won’t let me in for yourself, please, do it for me. I need you to let me help you.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ He was still looking out over the water but spoke softly, “You don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t talk to you, I can’t let you touch me, I can’t let you help. I just can’t.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Just leave me alone. That’s what I need right now.”

Tony’s heart broke into even more pieces if that was even possible. For a moment he wrestled with the idea of giving in to Peter, of listening to the kid's plea for space and respecting that, but despite what Peter was saying, Tony knew that wasn’t what he actually needed.

“I am not going anywhere, kid. Please. You don’t have to talk to me right now, but can I please at least give you a hug?” Tony ached to hug his kid after letting Peter push him away for so long.

Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He finally turned his head and met Tony’s gaze, each one staring into the other's tear-filled eyes until Peter finally broke eye contact. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and gut-wrenching sobs wracked his frame. Tony almost joined him in sobbing, he was so at a loss as to what to do, but then very slowly, he leaned in. He gave Peter time to push him away, he had heard the kids say he didn’t want a hug with his words and Tony didn’t believe that was actually what he wanted, but he still moved at a glacial pace. It felt like an eternity, but the kid’s forehead was finally resting on Tony’s chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. Tony placed one hand on the back of his kid’s head, holding him against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around him and pulled Peter firmly into his lap. Peter didn’t pull away. He melted into the embrace and started to sob even harder. Tony held him tightly, running his fingers through the boy's curls and gently started rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clutching each other, Peter sobbing loudly while Tony had silent tears streaming down his own face. Finally, Peter’s sobs slowed and he lifted his own tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s, not moving from the man’s embrace.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice broke saying his name, “I think I need help.

Tony hugged Peter tighter if that was possible. “Okay,” he replied, his own voice thick with tears, “whatever you need, I am here.

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without having nightmares and not be afraid anymore,” Peter sniffed as he spoke, he was no longer sobbing but tears were still flowing freely down his face.

“I will never let anything else happen to you if I can help it. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Tony told him.

Peter nodded, “I feel like I’ll be afraid forever,” he confessed.

Tony hugged him tighter, “I know it feels like that but, but you have to trust me that eventually, you’ll be okay. I promise.”

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