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thatdesklamp · 7 months

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The Gojo Household, Winter, 2010

more satoru pov from intrinsic warmth canon because I require only happiness from this fandom rn

Satoru wishes he’d thought of something different when he first saw you.

He knows, now, that gossip in Jujutsu society is trivial and meaningless. Nothing means anything, and anything that’s said is either inflated out of proportion, or so shallow it’s basically pointless, or just untrue.

Satoru is older now—in fact, it is his twenty-first birthday next week—and as he’s been the focus of that same gossip for all of his life, he’s learnt not to believe it. He doesn’t even listen, nowadays. Few people have the gall to talk to him so casually, which, for once, Satoru can spin as a positive.

But he was young when he met you. He was six, as much as you try to convince him he was seven. When he was young, he was convinced that all the rumours were true: after all, the ones about him were.

Satoru was the strongest, the best, the prodigy that would change the world; he was Satoru Gojo, born for everything, with everything, and so of course everything about you would be correct, because everything about him was, too!

He had heard rumours, spoken candidly by his parents, before they died, and then in hushed voices by the servants when they didn’t think he could hear. He had heard about everyone; the downfall of the Inumaki clan, the pathetic outcasts of the Zenins, even the tiny little Hebi family, whose heir was not only born a girl, but with a disgraceful mutation of the family technique.

It’s what he thought, when he first saw you.

He noticed you looking at him, in the corner of his eye. You were one of the only children at the clan meeting, and your hands were tied tight behind your back.

You looked at him with hollow eyes, and Satoru had preened under the attention. He had thought you were looking at him because he was Satoru Gojo, and he hadn’t realised that you hadn’t known who he was.

Before you, everyone he’d ever met had known him. Everyone, until you. But you don’t remember meeting him, so Satoru can’t ask you why you were looking at him.

Satoru wishes he’d thought more of you, that first time. He knows, of course, that there was no reason for him to; it wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with you because of your name, or your family, and it wasn’t as if he should have felt the spark between the two of you just from hearing your family story. That would make it fate, if it was like that, and Satoru had always hated fate. He doesn’t want to love you because he has to, or because it was destined for him.

He looks at you, now. You put the kids to sleep an hour ago, and had spent the evening as you usually do: together, on the couch of his childhood home, just being with each other.

But now you’re half-asleep, leaning against him—his Infinity—with your eyes closed. Your breathing is slow and soft, and he feels your chest expand with every inhale. You trust him with this, that he will not deactivate his technique when you’re sleeping. Satoru has never been more grateful for you, or more undeserving of your trust. He would never touch you, never: he isn’t fifteen any more, and he knows better than he did then. But he wants to. More than anything, Satoru wants to touch you.

That night, on the rooftop. He could feel the pressure of your hands on him, exploring him, the hesitance transforming into curiosity and then careful confidence in your touch. Satoru had been wanting your hands on him for… he doesn’t even know, not really. But now he has felt you, even if it is through Infinity.

And he wants you. He cannot look at you without wanting his hands on you, his lips on you: he feels it viscerally, every time you smile, every moment you allow him to see beyond your facade of severity.

You say that he pretends, but you don’t seem to realise that you do the same: you hold yourself back from him, always leave him wanting, craving, and Satoru, who has always been selfish, will never be satisfied with all that you allow him. He will always be wanting more.

You stir. “Hmn?” you mumble.

Satoru shushes you. “Go back to sleep.”

“Shouldn’t. Need to go home.” You break off, yawn so wide he can see the pink of your tongue. Satoru has to look away.

“I’ll wake you later. I promise.”

“Promise.” You pat your lips together and curl further into him, your head on his chest—Infinity, he has to keep reminding himself, because he wants to pretend he is holding you without it.

One gloved hand rests on your opposite arm, and you clench it in your sleep as pain bursts through the muscle. You had hurt your shoulder again yesterday; whenever it sparks up again, Satoru feels a fresh wave of pure hatred for your family, for those bastards that kept your hands bound for all those years. He had hated them when he was younger, and he hates them even more now; he hates that their hold on you has only tightened, keeping you from touching people, keeping you in pain.

The first time, he hadn’t thought of them as restraints. They were evidence that you were the strange Hebi heir, the one who was born with the weird touching technique. Satoru hadn’t understood why your hands were bound; yes, he’d heard of it, but he didn’t understand why the gloves weren’t enough. He was just a kid, but Satoru wishes he had thought better of you. At least he had liked you; he really had, right from the first time he had spoken to you.

He had noticed you leave. Your father and grandmother had left you alone, and you had stood there for a moment, watching them go. Then you had looked around, and walked through a half-open doorway, pushing it ajar with your shoulder. Satoru remembers that you had walked through the crowd: your aversion to touch was still enforced by your family, not your own mind, and you hadn’t yet developed your panic around the large groups of people that you have now.

Satoru, six and curious and arrogant, followed you. He was interested in the way you walked; it was so decisive, after a moment of hesitation, latching onto the open door and walking through swiftly. Satoru didn’t think about Yahaba, or whether she would be worried if he went missing, since, back then, he hadn’t learnt how to think about anyone other than himself.

He was good at walking quietly, though, especially through old houses like his own. Satoru knew what floorboards looked like when they would creak, from all his time hiding from servants. Satoru followed you through room after room, his excitement growing. It was like a game to him, trying to guess when you would stop, and then try to figure out why.

It took you a while to decide where to stay, and when you finally do, Satoru didn’t understand why: it wasn’t one of the cooler rooms you’ve passed, like the ones with loads of bows or the ones with the cool murals and paintings.

The room was the most boring room. It was dead silent, and pretty blank and bland, and you just closed your eyes and sit down on the floor with your back against the door.

Satoru followed you in: you’d left the door open. He wondered for a second if this counted as creepy, if following you was a bit weird, but then he shrugged and reckoned that you’d be grateful to see him anyway. After all, you were just the kid from the Hebi clan! He was Satoru Gojo. Anyone would be honoured to meet him.

Actually—no that he was thinking about it, your journey was really weird. You even walked past loads of rooms with blades and swords, and Satoru didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just take off those ropes that you’ve got behind your back. They couldn’t be comfortable: they influence the way you walk, he thinks, and you keep tensing your arms up like you’re trying to pull away from them. Why wouldn’t you just take them off? Satoru resolved to ask you.

“Why are you sitting like that?” he asked, stepping into your view and mimicking your hand restraints.

It was just an introductory question—he was getting himself ready for your surprise, and then the absolute flattery and praise that always came when people saw him. They were filled, as they often said, with an overwhelming mixture of fear and awe, which he thought was pretty damn cool.

Satoru had been told he could be intimidating when he was trying to be, but he didn’t really want to scare you right now. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to be scared: he was Satoru Gojo, after all.

But Satoru was very good at being modest, and so he was asking you a question on your level, so you wouldn’t be so worried about engaging him in conversation. Here! He was telling you. I’m just a normal person! Even if he wasn’t, it was good of him to pretend. But Satoru was good with modesty, obviously, especially when people starting crying when they saw him, which had happened exactly five times in his lifetime.

Satoru smiled graciously, ready for you to start shaking and maybe prostrating yourself in front of him.

You looked up. “Oh. I can’t take them off.”

For a split-second, Satoru blanched. Where was the fear? Where was the awe? You were just looking up at him with that same solemn expression you were wearing before.

And then, Satoru brushed it off. Maybe that solemn face was just your ‘whoa, I’m super impressed that I’m in the presence of Satoru Gojo, and so I’ve got to pretend to be okay so I don’t look stupid in front of him’-face. He wouldn’t be offended: everyone else had their strategies to cope with meeting him for the first time.

So, Satoru continued your conversation: “Why not? That rope, or something? Doesn’t look that strong.” He stepped closer to you, pretending to size it up, like he didn’t know the exact answer you’d give him. “I could cut it off for you if you want.”

And there he was—being so generous, even though he didn’t have to, and even though he knew you’d refuse.

You shook your head, and Satoru felt a spark of triumph. “No, thanks,” you said.

“Didn’t think so.” Satoru grinned, very pleased with himself. Then, because he had to explain how clever he was, he added: “You walked through loads of rooms with weapons on your way here, but you didn’t even look at them. I saw you.”

“I’m not allowed,” you said, simply. You shuffled a bit on the floor, clearly still uncomfortable from the ropes, and probably trying to hide your nerves at being in such close-quarters with him, Satoru Gojo.

Satoru didn’t understand the concept. He didn’t like the idea of not being allowed to do something: he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, at home.

“Says who?” he asked. He sat right down next to you, copying your posture right down to the way your hands were stuck behind your back. He was right, before: it was really uncomfortable.

“My father.”

Satoru crinkled up his nose. “And you listen to him?”

“Yes.”

Okay, that was pretty weird of you. His opinion of you soured, a little. Satoru had been intrigued by how you’d left your family back in the other room; it had seemed like something rebellious, something interesting. But at the same time, you were the type of person who’d listen to people who didn’t care about you. Satoru looked away from you, feeling a little disappointed.

And then, like you were registering exactly what he was thinking, you said: “Well. Sometimes I do.”

Satoru perked up. “Sometimes? When don’t you?”

There it is! It’s obvious, now: you were holding back, but as soon as you picked up on his reticence, you switched up, and tried your absolute best to keep his attention on you. Of course. That makes sense!

“Now, I guess,” you said. You seem a bit shy, maybe, or a bit sullen. Satoru couldn’t tell: a flicker of something weird went up in him, an emotion he couldn’t recognise. He didn’t understand what you were feeling. Satoru didn’t like that—Satoru always knew everything, always. “He probably didn’t want me to leave the main room, but I did. He’s going to be angry.”

Satoru felt a strange tug in his belly. For some reason, he actually wanted to know the answer to his question. “Don’t you care about that?”

If you kept those weird ropes around your wrists because of your family, then surely you’d care about what they think about you.

“What?”

“If your dad’s going to be angry.” Satoru looked at you intently, trying to peer into your mind. You weren’t reacting the way he was expecting you to, and he didn’t know what to make of it, really. “You don’t look like you care.”

After a moment, you said: “He’s angry a lot. You kind of get used to it.”

Satoru’s lips pursed. He didn’t like the sound of that. If he was living with someone who was mean like that, he wouldn’t get used to it: Satoru would do something about it.

You looked at him in the eyes, and he was taken aback, for a second, at how strong your gaze was. You kept flipping in his view of you: at one time, you were nothing at all, and then you were interesting and rebellious, and then you were subdued and fearful, and, now, you were something in-between.

You cringed, a little, at your words. You cast your gaze down, and Satoru found himself seeking it: he wanted your attention back. He wasn’t used to losing it.

“I mean…” you trailed off. “Not really. You don’t get used to it, but, I mean, I just have to guess when it’s going to be a good choice or not. Overall.” You just stared at the floor, and Satoru found himself leaning closer to you. He didn’t think you noticed. “I think he’s going to be really mad, yeah, but I didn’t want to be in the room anymore, so I’m just going to deal with it later. A lot of the time, though,” you said, with an air of finality, “it’s overall a bad choice not to do what he says.”

You nod, a little.

Satoru had never known so little about a person before. Everything he had thought about you was being twisted and changed, and he didn’t know at all what to make of it. He had expected you to be surprised and honoured to see him: you weren’t, not visibly. He had expected you to be pitiful and boring, as the weird heir of the Hebi family: you weren’t, not really, but instead were something different altogether.

Maybe it was just because Satoru didn’t know how to deal with being wrong—although, no, he wasn’t wrong, because he was never wrong—or maybe it was because there was something genuinely interesting about you. He wasn’t sure.

But, perhaps for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to know more about a person. That was definitely something to pay attention to. That was something.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He didn’t actually know your first name: none of the servants had ever called you it. You were just the sad heir of the Hebi family, the one who’d gone wrong.

“Hebi,” you said. “Hello.”

Satoru grimaced. That wasn’t what he was asking, and you knew it. “That’s not your name,” he said, clearly urging you to answer his question properly.

“It is,” you said, petulantly. “My name is Hebi.”

“Hebi,” he repeated. “Right. But,” he said, slowly, to make sure you understood, “that’s your family name.”

You blinked at him. “Yes, exactly.”

Satoru held back a groan—he held it back, because he was trying to make a good impression here. Him! Trying to make a good impression! This was a day of new experiences. Satoru never had to try to do anything. He just did it, and people loved him for it. He didn’t know why, but there was something he liked about you, and this, about how you were making him try.

“So,” he said, because he knew you weren’t getting it, “tell me your first name then.”

You hesitated, and then your eyebrows bunched together, and your lips pursed into a frown. “No,” you said.

Satoru’s eyes widened. “No?” he echoed, in disbelief.

“No.”

Satoru stared at you. No? But he was making a good first impression! He was Satoru Gojo—people didn’t say no to him, even strange interesting people like you. Satoru was actually trying, and it wasn’t enough for you to tell him your name.

He struggled to speak for a few seconds. Satoru genuinely didn’t know how to proceed—he felt out of step in a way that was completely foreign to him. Satoru was used to being in charge of every conversation; he would enter a room and it would fall silent, just because he was there; he would walk through a crowd, and people would part for him, like he was activating his Infinity, the way he was learning how to do at home. Satoru was good at conversations like that, where everyone else was on the defensive, not him.

And yet, here he was. You had just said no. He wanted to know your name, and you didn’t give it to him.

He looked back at you, bewildered. And, Satoru remembers now, that was the moment he had known you were special for him: because, even as his head spun with trying to understand how someone could deny him something, he watched as your lips twitched into the tiniest half-smile.

Satoru’s heart had filled, back then, with such an overwhelming rush of joy and pleasure and pride, pride he had never felt before, because he had never struggled for anything before, and so he had never yet succeeded.

And even though you were trying to hide your smile, it was still there: he had made you laugh, even if he didn’t know how he had done it, even if it was just because you had found his mystified expression somewhat funny. He had still made you smile, and he had been so proud of himself for it.

That was the first time he had felt that, and, now, remembering it, Satoru realises he has been chasing that feeling ever since.

Satoru had not known you back then. Satoru knows you now. He knows how you walk, how you smile, all your different smiles; he knows what you look like when you find him ridiculous, and when you are trying to pretend that he isn’t funny; he knows what you look like when you are afraid, and when you are afraid of him, and he knows that he never wants to hurt you again.

Satoru knows you. He loves you: he knows this, too, now. It had taken him some time to realise it, and even longer to accept it. But he knows. And he does.

Maybe it’s something wrong with him, he thinks, with some tired wry amusement. The way he enjoys you denying him things, or the way he has to work so hard for such small things, like your smile, or your compliments, or even your attention, these days. He likes how focused he has to be, how much effort he has to devote to you, because he knows he will always be rewarded, eventually.

You’re magnificent. It was what you had said to him, that night on the rooftop, when you had let him get so close to you, and when you had looked so beautiful. Satoru still remembers the way the moonlight had made your eyes shine, as if liquid, and he remembers how staggering his love for you had felt, how all-consuming and unbearable.

He remembers your words, all of them. You’re just magnificent, Satoru. His name: you had called him by his name. The lilt of your voice, the curve of the vowels. You say his name, and he wants to kiss you. He feels it like a need, as strong as his beating heart.

You’re smart, and you make me laugh, even when I try to hide it. He wishes you wouldn’t: he loves that you do, because he is the only one who can make you laugh like you do with him. Satoru is the only one: to you, he is special. You make me feel… everything. It’s like my world is sharper and better whenever you’re in it.

Satoru wishes he had said more. Satoru wishes, sometimes, he had said the truth: that he could have repeated those same words back to you, and it would have still been just as truthful. Satoru’s world is nothing when you are not in it: he works, and he lives, and he is fine, but with you, everything is so much more. You know him. You know him, and you stay with him regardless.

You think he is good. You’re a good person, you had said. You are such a good person.

Satoru knows he is not. He has always been insensitive, needy, and he scares himself, sometimes, with the things he can do easily, that he knows are supposed to haunt him.

Satoru is selfish. He wants too much, and does not like it when he is denied that which he wants.

He wants you. He hates it when you hold yourself from him.

And he had asked you to marry him.

Satoru had been asking for a while. Not marriage: but for you to stay with him, for you to let him keep you close, to keep you with him always. Move in with me, he had been saying, for so long. Since you had finished with your fourth year at school, he had been asking. You’d visited his new house before he’d properly moved in, some random luxury penthouse suite that he didn’t care too much for, and you’d been impressed, in your restrained, amused way.

He had asked you, then, in the empty shell of a living room. Move in with me, he had said. It could be ours, he had not said.

You said no.

Satoru asked again. Later, when you were helping him move in. You said no.

Satoru asked again. You were watching the kids explore their new rooms. You said no.

Satoru asked again.

Satoru asked, and asked, and asked. You said no.

He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to. You gave him reasons, but he knew well enough that they weren’t real; he asked you again and again, and you refused to be honest with him. Satoru felt, for the first time since he had hurt you, back when he was fifteen, that divide between the two of you, something he could not cross, despite his desperate and fervent attempts.

Satoru asked again. You said no.

Satoru asked you to marry him. He didn’t understand it all, then, but he knew he wanted you to marry him. Satoru had always hated tradition, and had never thought about marriage, not seriously, but he thought of you, and your soft smiles and shining eyes and wry comments, and he had wanted it. You.

He had tried, so hard. He wanted you to want it—he wanted you to want him. I would, Satoru had told you. You knew that he didn’t enjoy traditions, that he didn’t subscribe to such antiquated ways of living, and you knew that being married would be compromising so much of what he believed in: but he told you that, despite all of that, despite everything, he would.

I would marry you, he had told you. Despite so much, he would.

It was his quietest confession. You knew him. You would understand.

You said no.

Satoru feels you stir, in your sleep. You mumble something to yourself, and then your eyes squeeze together and you yawn, widely. You open your eyes, groggy, and turn your face up to look at him. Satoru could kiss you, your lips are so close to his.

“Did I fall asleep?” you say, with a slight slur to your words. It’s cute, Satoru realises. Fuck, not only is he in love with you, but you’re cute, too.

“Just a little,” he says, and smiles as you scowl, as your nose scrunches.

“You should’ve woken me. I’m not going to—get to sleep at home, now.” You yawn again, and then push yourself off him—his Infinity—with a throaty heave. Satoru feels the loss instantly. Come back, he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“Ah,” Satoru says, leaning back to give you some more space, “that’s only if you still want to go. You don’t have to.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Gojo.”

Satoru, he pleads, in his mind.

“What?” he says instead, laughing.

“I need to go home. I’ve got—” and your face, so untroubled and tranquil and sleep-drunk, falls. Your eyes go hollow, just for a second. “I’ve got work tomorrow,” you say, and then run your gloved hands over your eyes. “God, I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you to your work,” Satoru says. He knows he sounds impulsive, or pushy, or even desperate, but he is—nowadays, he has to treasure every hour with you, even when you’re asleep. “It’s no big deal, Hebi-Hebi. You can use your old room here—Yahaba will get someone to sort it out now, if I ask her.”

Satoru stands, decisive, and prays you won’t ask him to stop. “I’ll ask her now, yeah?”

You’re hesitating. “I can’t stay.”

“Sure you can!” Satoru grins down at you, and he recognises the flash of uncertainty. He purses his lips, and then crouches in front of you, hands braced on his knees. “C’mon. It’ll be like old times! Remember when you’d stay at mine, nearly every night?”

Your lips quiver, and Satoru knows he is close to coaxing a smile from you. He chases it, and chases it.

“Yeah,” you say, quietly.

“Then we’ll just do that again! You can have your old room.” Satoru would like you to stay the way you were before; your head on his chest—Infinity—with your body tucked into him. He wishes he had worked harder to remember it, or remember what it had felt like, to be so close to touching you.

“I shouldn’t…”

“Says who?” Satoru raises his eyebrows at you, putting on a childish face, and finally you smile. It is small, and barely there, but it’s a smile, for him, just for him, and he loves you so much he cannot do anything else.

You bite at the inside of your lip. “I don’t have pyjamas.”

“I’ve got them in your size,” Satoru says, waving his hand in the air, as if to dismiss the thought entirely. He does: he always have, ever since you started staying the night at his as children. He has made sure that, whatever age you are, you will always have a place in his home.

“I need to take my makeup off,” you say, but he can tell your heart isn’t in it. Your smile has widened, and you are playful now. Satoru feels joyful, lighter than hair.

“You think I don’t have remover? You wound me with the accusation, Hebi-Hebi!”

“I’d need to put up with you for another few hours.”

Satoru laughs, full and loud, and you grin. “You adore spending time with me,” Satoru says, with a pretence of arrogance he hopes disguises the ever-present, thrumming desire for your reassurance, praise, love.

You hum, non-committal. “Maybe.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and pretends to be offended. “Agh. If you’re not going to admit it, maybe you can’t stay after all.”

“I said maybe, didn’t I?”

“Maybe isn’t good enough. I’m hurt, now. You’ve hurt me.”

“Poor baby.”

Satoru sticks out his tongue, which he knows doesn’t disprove the accusations of childishness, but he hopes will make you smile again. It does, to his pure delight.

You brace your hands on your thighs and push yourself up, combing stray hairs from your face. You laugh, quiet and to yourself, at something amusing he hadn’t realised he was doing.

“You’re so stupid,” you say, with a voice rich with affection. Satoru grins, and ducks his head down to your level. You blink at him, and then roll your eyes a half-second later.

“Tell me you want to stay,” Satoru says. He must be straightforward, or you might not say it at all. “Or you’re not allowed,” he adds, to make the request less obvious.

Your lips purse. “Gojo.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I—Gojo.”

“Do you want me to say please?” Satoru tilts towards you, another push, another quiet confession, one of hundreds. “I will if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, just a fraction. Your lips part. Yes, Satoru thinks. You understand.

Then you look down, away from him, and it is broken. Satoru is selfish, and he wants too much.

“I’ll stay,” you say, turning from him and moving to plump up the cushions he had been sitting on. You do not look at him. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“So mean to me,” Satoru says, automatic.

“You deserve it.”

“And so cruel!”

“As I’ve heard.”

Satoru brushes it off. He’s getting used to that. He instead bounds over to you, finishes your work with the cushions, and then sits back down.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping to spend a little more time with my Hebi-Hebi before she goes to sleep,” Satoru says, promptly. “You’re not that tired, are you?”

“I’m very tired.”

“But you don’t have to go to sleep right now,” he says, “right?”

You scoff, but it’s clear to both of you that there is no bitterness or anger. It is amused, and endeared, and Satoru loves that you think about him that way.

“Just a short while,” you say, collapsing back down on your half of the sofa. Satoru grins, so broad and happy, and he sees his smile mirrored on your lips.

“Just for a little bit,” Satoru echoes. “Until you want to leave. I promise.”

#intrinsic warmth #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #i don't even know how fluffy this is #i think my angst instincts took over for a second there #oops #anyway it's 5k and i've got a 9am tomoz wahh #no rest for the wicked or the gojo stans (they are synonymous)#also if I messed up the tenses anywhere no I didn’t #it’s been years since I wrote in past tense shhhh

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scurvgirl · 7 months

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The Milkovich house is a disaster. Actually, disaster is an understatement. Ian always knew how the Milkoviches lived, shit he'd lived that that too for a bit. But it hits different when you're one of two people now tasked with sorting through everything.

Most of it is trash. Some of it, though, is meaningful. An even smaller portion of it is pure treasure.

Ian pulls out a picture, clearly taken years and years ago. It shows two young children, more like toddlers really, dressed up in matching costumes. A Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

"Holy shit," Ian breathes as he stares at the picture. He knows it's his husband but he has to be sure. He flips the picture over and in neat, blue ink reads "Mickey and Mandy, Halloween 1997". He can barely process it. Little Mickey. Little Mickey dressed as Mickey Mouse. He flips the picture over again to stare at how adorable his best friend and husband were when they were little. Mickey is smiling in the photo, a big open mouthed smile, maybe even mid laugh. Adorable. Precious.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Mickey's voice cuts through Ian's thoughts. Oh no, Mickey shouldn't see this. But also....

"Just a picture of you and Mandy." He tries to deflect, but Mickey's quick. He darts to Ian's side and snags a peak of the picture before Ian can hide it.

He expects curses, eye rolls, maybe a hand to snatch it from Ian. What he did not expect is how Mickey goes still then looks away.

"Throw it away."

"Mick-

"Throw it away! My...my mom took that. Before she...look, just throw that shit away." Mickey picks up a beyond-repair shirt and stuffs it into a 'throw away' trash bag. He stomps off into the house, leaving Ian alone with the picture.

He looks down at little smiling Mickey and Mandy. He can't throw this away, he can't just toss whatever evidence that some parts of Mickey's childhood weren't all bad. He tucks the picture into his coat and continues to sort through the mess.

Much, much later, they're home. They shower together for quickness and it really is quick (okay, there is some groping) before falling into bed together. Fuck clothes, they're married and at this point, everyone in the house has seen them.

Ian turns to Mickey and tentatively places his hand over his husband's. Mickey accepts it, a finger worries at Ian's wedding band.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Shit, Ian, when do I ever want to talk about it?"

There's a long pause before Mickey presses his free hand to his eyes. "I dunno, man, it's just...I'm a fucking orphan. Terry was fucked up and terrible and I wanted to kill him, should have killed him, but he was...fuck. I dunno. I dunno all this feeling shit is just fucked."

Ian doesn't respond verbally right away, instead he scoots over and gently coaxes Mickey into his arms. Mickey allows it, his head coming to rest on Ian's pec while Ian holds his hand.

"I fucking hate him. He taught me how to shoot, how to hotwire a car. I hate him and he's gone. He...he hurt you."

"This isn't about me," Ian whispers, giving Mickey a squeeze.

"It is cuz I'd be...I'd be in jail right now because I'd have killed that stupid fucking nun by now if it wasn't because of your stupid ginger ass."

Ian pauses, listens to Mickey's breath hitch, feels wetness not from their shower on his chest.

"Do you want to kill her?" Ian asks softly after a while.

"No."

Oh so gently, Ian cups Mickey's jaw and tilts his reddened, tear streaked face up.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, baby, and I am not sorry he's gone. He hurt you and he can't do that anymore." Ian presses a kiss to Mickey's forehead.

Mickey doesn't say much more, either from exhaustion or not wanting to talk about it anymore. Either way, Ian holds him and he doesn't pull away.

"That picture you found was the best day of my life before you. Mom dressed Mandy and I up, we went trick'or'treating, ate so much fucking candy. Then she had to fucking die." Mickey sniffles and Ian holds him closer.

"So stupid, dressed up as that damn mouse."

"You were cute," Ian cuts in because he can't help himself, "you're still cute."

"Sap." Mickey pushes Ian without any real force, making them both smile.

"Yeah, I...have a confession, Mick."

"Fuck, what?"

"I didn't throw the pic away."

Mickey doesn't respond right away, just runs a finger along Ian's chest, fidgeting with some of his chest hair.

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They're back at the house the next day. More trash. More hateful messages and books and shit that Ian would like to forget.

In the end, it's Mickey who finds it. He walks out of one of the smaller bedrooms holding a short, black book. He's staring at it like it's some foreign object or a bomb about to go off. Ian is by his side in a moment.

The book's label is written in that same neat script as the picture - "Mickey and Mandy Growing Up".

"It's a photo album," Ian whispers.

"Yep." Mickey's eyes don't move away from it. His body is still.

Ian places a hand on Mickey's shoulder, "You don't have to open it here, or even today or tomorrow. Let's pack it and when you're ready, we can look at it. Together." Finally Mickey moves. He nods his head and gives the album to Ian.

"Keep it with the picture."

Ian takes the album then leans forward to press a kiss to his brave, emotional, incredible husband. His husband who has the chance to be as happy as the little boy in the picture.

#gallavich #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #scurv writes #this was supposed to be fluffy and then OOPS #feelings happened #i just thought about baby mickey and mandy dressed up as mickey and minnie

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maxsix · 2 months

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#oops i forgot to post his #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez #that coat looks so fluffy i want it

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wikiangela · 5 months

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wip wednesday🎄

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

i wasn't gonna post anything but i wrote quite a lot today and need validation lmao (I think I might be about halfway done but who knows, it always gets away from me haha) today some buckley siblings feels, and hopefully soon ill get to the fluffy christmas part haha

prev snippet

___

"(...) I used to make stuff for Maddie, and then when I was older I would save money to buy her something small and mostly symbolic.” he glances at Eddie. There’s a mix of bittersweet nostalgia and sadness on his face. “She made all my Christmases bearable, and after she left-” he stops abruptly and quietly clears his throat. When he speaks again, he doesn’t finish the sentence. Eddie wants to ask, but he figures Buck will share what he’s comfortable sharing, he doesn’t want to push. “But that was the one thing I wanted so badly, more than anything, more than any cool toys or- or anything,” he chuckles again, “and Maddie tried to give it to me, and she got in trouble for it. So after that, I just never asked again.”

“Buck.” Eddie says softly, wishing he could do anything to make it better, to fucking go back in time and give Buck all the Christmases he ever dreamt about.

“But I always wished-” Buck continues, then glances at Eddie nervously.

“Wished what?” Eddie’s thumb softly swipes along Buck’s neck and jawline, as far as he can reach. He just wants to comfort him somehow, and at the moment this is the only way he knows how, just a comforting touch, being there, listening.

“That one day, when I grew up,” Buck looks down at his lap again, his voice getting even quieter, “I’d have my own family and I’m gonna do matching Christmas sweaters every single year, and take tons of pictures of us all together, and-” he pauses again, and, with a teary laugh, raises his hand to wipe at his eyes. Eddie wants to wrap him in his arms and hold him. (...) “But it doesn’t matter, I don’t-” Buck shakes his head, and leans away from Eddie’s touch. Eddie aches to keep touching him, to reach out and follow, but he respects that clearly that’s not what Buck wants anymore, that’s fine. “I don’t have my own family yet, so it doesn't matter. Let’s just drop it.” he says, tone decisive, face red, eyes glued to the screen again.

Eddie frowns. What the hell is Buck talking about? He has a family, right here.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @king-buckley @callmenewbie @jeeyuns @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990

#wip wednesday #buddie christmas fic #took out a few sentences from this snippet bc it was too long lol #it was mostly about buck loving to take pics and keep photo albums etc #and eddie wondering if his parents ever even took any pics of him when he was little or if the few he has are bc of maddie #bc ngl i wonder about that way too often #and I have like 5 albums of just my pics from my childhood and i love it and i think buck'd love that and he'd make sure chris has that lol #idk buck's childhood is something i think about so fucking much and it's so sad and im projecting my anger toward the buckleys onto eddie #this fic was supposed to be cute and fluffy with a sprinkle of sad but so far it's all sad with a bit of fluffy oops haha #fic snippet #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips

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maenecoon · 2 days

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tw (mostly mild) depictions of violence and blood, bc it's involves vampires, also major spoilers for a fic im working on rn

i may or may not have a vampire kimchay fic idea

except the execution of it is going to have me combusting into flames??

anyways, thoughts about kim finding an annoying baby bat in the forest. he wants to ignore it, but he can't. so fine, he takes it in.

except...

kim definitely doesn't know how to care for a feral bat.

anyways! cue sweet/fluffy/bat-and-vampire shenanigans! like babybat so sated with blood that he becomes a little drunk, or at least the bat-version of drunk. babybat who flies into the window trying to escape because he's not good at echolocatio. babybat who sneaks into kim's closets to bite holes in every single one of his silk shirts.

vampire!kim somehow being whipped af for this cute but annoying little shit that he's somehow adopted. feeds him blood pudding and gives him many head scritches. shows him his red string murder board and rambles about his murder plans and all. vampire!kim who started off detesting or tolerating this pest at best but unable to imagine starting a day without the weight of babybat curled up on his chest.

then the murder plan happens. kim wants korn (his father/sire) dead, bc who doesn't, and he sneaks in to "kill" him.

he's gone in, wooden stake and holy water and all.

he goes bat-shit crazy. bodies of full-sized vampires drop to the floor around them as kim works with ruthless efficiency. he's memorised the techniques of his father's men and their weaknesses. he's dreamed about this for centuries. and it's pays off.

and then enters korn.

korn was always going to be the issue.

kim had no plans of returning alive - he knows to end lorn by all means necessary even if it means his own life - but korn has gotten more powerful. sire bonds are difficult to break, and even if kim has been diluting the bond and doing his absolute best to weaken their link, korn still has kim in an iron grip.

(if you'd read my phayurain vampire fic, there's this thing about sires being able to control their fledglings because of a bond they share when a vampire (sire) turns someone into a vampire (their fledgling). )

anyways.

when suddenly a weight in his pocket starts to stir. it's the little shit, the bat. and kim's all panicked because little shit is small and harmless and now barely the size of half his palm? like, kim's on his knees and has his hands shaking with effort not to plunge the stake into his own chest, by the command of korn.

it takes just a second, but bat flutters out of kim's pocket. bat, with all the rage that a bat can muster, swings himself right on korn's face and digs his fangs into korn's eyes. the eyes are part of what maintains the sire-control that korn has over kim, and kim is able to use that split second to drive the stake into korn's heart.

the moment that korn falters, falling to the ground with a thud, is the moment that the bat drops to the floor.

kim thinks like yeah, fuck, that must've taken a lot out of this poor baby bat, and god that fall looked bad, when all of a sudden the bat is expanding. almost like his bones are breaking (and kim winces because that sounds anguishing) and reforming and he keeps growing bigger and bigger and bigger until kim realised that this was no bat.

this was a vampire, trapped in the form of a bat.

this is his fledgling, his fledgling who was supposed to have died.

chay.

yeah anyways!! fun little story that i'm working on rn!! lmk what you think/want to see, if you got to the end of this! !

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eudico-my-beloved · 2 months

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이번에는, 떠나지마라..

just outis and a version where i gave up half way through experimenting with effects (i forgor how to use shit) under the cut

#finally got the fox outis ego!!!!!!!#yippee!#also the very first one out of my deck to get hit by her was ish and i thought it was somewhat funny #made me giggle and it made my mouth hurt a little more #but it did remind me to take the prescribed stuff so. win ig?#also one of my fav lines so far is the one she says when she.#uhhhhh i dont know the word in english but im too tired to search it up. oops #but yeah #i like her a normal amount #she looks fluffy i wanna poke her #limbus company #outis lcb #ishmael lcb #<- its just her back tho. but i think that counts

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chekensheppppp · 3 months

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Regarding your (excellent, I must say) teribbledadshipping headcanons - Ghetsis, who likes his hair touched 🤝 Giovanni with his 30 years of cat (Persian) petting experience. Old lettuce is in for a treat

he sure is lol, probably one of the best decisions he's made in his cringefail life.

(don't look at the interior design too much I'm drained of ideas lmaoaooaoao)

#cheken clucks #cheken's nonsense #cheken scratch #me: draws these two being sweet and fluffy #also me: oh that's right they're both evil and cruel villains oops #*continues doing it anyways*#sidenote I took way too much time experimenting with this #think it turned out pretty good #ghetsis #giovanni #terribledadshipping

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hannahmanderr · 9 months

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HERE TO FIX MY WRONNGDOINGS PITCH PEARL PLSSSSSS

Fenton didn't even have time to react to the sudden drop in temperature before something cold snaked around his arm.

He shrieked. "Getoffofme!" he began shouting in rushed words as he flailed his arms wildly, trying to shake the thing off. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't going to come off so easily.

A moment later, gasps of stifled laughter tickled at his ears, and a moment after that, the sense of familiarity settled into his chest, both at the voice and at the thing wrapped around his arm. He resumed his efforts to rid himself of it, but this time with a bit more thoughtfulness and a lot more anger.

"You. Are. The. Worst!" he hissed. Each word was punctuated with a swat in the general direction of the choked laughter. None of them landed, making the laughter only grow stronger.

Fenton growled and wrenched his arm out of the grasp of the strange, semi-tangible hold. In one motion, he yanked his arm out and quickly twisted it back around to grab at the area where it had been. This time, he landed true, and his hand closed around it.

"Hey!" The protest was accompanied by a flicker of his assailant. "Not cool!"

Fenton simply rolled his eyes and, keeping his grasp on the odd force, stormed into the nearby alleyway. Once safely tucked in between the two buildings, he hurled his hand forward, throwing the assailant into the wall.

Phantom appeared right as his back hit the wall and he let out an oomph. The assailant - his stupid tail - split back into two legs from the sudden shock of the impact. "What was that for?" he whined as he rubbed the back of his head.

"What do you mean, what was that for? How about you sneaking up on me and scaring the crap out of me?"

Phantom grinned sheepishly. "I couldn't help it. No one else was around, it was the perfect moment. Besides," he said, leaning in closer towards Fenton, "I have to come up with more creative ways to get to hold your hand, you know?"

Fenton remained unfazed. "You know you can literally just... hold my hand, right?"

"But that's not as much fun." The ghost lifted himself off of the ground a bit, and his legs reformed into a black, misty tail that began snaking its way towards Fenton again. "I like my way better."

"Oh, would you stop that?" Fenton batted the tail away easily. "You're not gonna get away with it by putting on this little cutesy act. And oh my God, why can I touch it? I thought that thing was like, a cloud or something?"

Phantom stopped in his tracks. He stared at the tip of his tail with a hard look as it floated between them, waving back and forth lazily. "That... is an excellent question," he muttered. Carefully, he experimented with poking and prodding at it himself.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Well excuse me! Just because I'm the ghost in this relationship doesn't mean I know everything!"

"It's literally your tail!"

"It was yours once too, you know!" Phantom huffed and crossed his arms. "It's not exactly something I've paid much attention to before. It's just... been there."

"I just thought it was different than other ghost tails," Fenton said. Now he too was staring at it, though his mind seemed to be in other places. "Like... the Observants. Or Desiree. Their tails are part of their body. But yours, it's not there all the time. You flip back and forth." He paused, then asked, "Are there other ghosts that can do that?"

"What, morph legs into a tail?" Phantom shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure there are. I can't think of any off the top of my head though. Other than maybe Spectra and Bertrand, but that's because they have human disguises."

Fenton bit his lip and, with one finger, carefully reached out to the tip of the tail. It connected, pushing it just the slightest bit.

Phantom watched in wonder. He knew all the ghost stuff still interested Fenton - how could it not? It had become such an intimate part of his life at this point - but for as fiery as the human could get, he was often hesitant and timid, even around Phantom. Something about the simple action made his stomach flutter.

Granted, that also probably had to do with the fact that Fenton was interacting with his tail.

"It is weird," he said quietly, still watching Fenton poke at the tail, "I know other humans haven't been able to really touch it. Sam tried to hit me just last week and her hand went right through. So..."

Fenton glanced up at him. "Maybe it's 'cause I'm around ectoplasm a lot more? Or something?"

"Or..."

Fenton could recognize the look of a capital-I Idea in Phantom's eyes when he got one, and this was no exception. "Or what?" he asked impatiently.

"Maybe it's not just the ectoplasm," Phantom said, still grinning. "I mean like I said, this was your tail once too. You know it better than anyone else. Maybe you just know the right way to grab onto it."

Fenton's face flushed red. "Oh my God, did you have to make it sound dirty?"

"But think of it this way!" Phantom continued as if Fenton hadn't said anything. "Now..."

Without warning, the tail darted forward and slipped around Fenton's waist before coiling around his wrist, eliciting a yelp from him.

Phantom's grin was even wider now. "... I have an even better way of getting you close to me."

Fenton's eyes widened in realization as the tail began to pull him, closer to Phantom. A second later though, his face twisted into one of frustration. "Oh no you don't!" He dug his heels into the ground. "Don't think I've forgotten about you scaring me!"

"Aww, but darling, I can't apologize when you're way over there," Phantom said with a laugh. Despite the strain against his tail, he managed to stay still in the air.

"I'm about to 'darling' you if you don't let me go!"

"Hmm." Phantom put a thoughtful hand to his chin as he watched Fenton struggle against his hold. It felt strange, to have a human be able to to interact with such a ghostly limb, but he couldn't deny that the idea that this was a trait unique to Fenton didn't send a pleasant buzz through his core.

After a moment spent basking in the satisfaction of it all, he shrugged. "Well, I guess if I can't get you to come to me, I could always just come to you."

"Wait, what?" Fenton stopped struggling for a moment, but it was already too late. Phantom, laughing giddily, had shot forward, and before Fenton knew it, Phantom's tail was wound around him even tighter, pinning his arms into place. Phantom himself had pressed right up against his side and thrown his arms around the human's shoulders. His head was bent in close towards Fenton's.

"I hate you so much," Fenton muttered. He tried to turn his head to look at Phantom, but they were too close for it to be much more than him rubbing his cheek uselessly against Phantom's forehead.

Phantom hummed again before taking one of his hands and cupping Fenton's cheek. Gently, he lifted his head enough to turn Fenton's face to his and place his forehead against the human's.

Like this, they were twined so closely together, the rapid thrum of Fenton's heart was indistinguishable from the pulse of Phantom's core. Warm, shallow breaths tickled Phantom's face. He almost had to go cross-eyed to see into Fenton's eyes, and even though it wasn't the most comfortable thing to attempt, he tried anyway because he wanted to - needed to see his human.

Despite Fenton's pouty demeanor, Phantom could feel the desire radiating off of him. They'd been in somewhat similar positions many times before, and he knew that Fenton knew (and wanted) what always came next.

So instead, he brought Fenton's face just close enough for him to nuzzle his nose lovingly against the human's.

When he pulled his head away, he couldn't help but giggle at the pout that had become even more pronounced on Fenton's face.

"Go through all that trouble and you can't even give me a real kiss for it," he grumbled.

The giggles wouldn't stop coming. "Technically, it's still a kiss."

"... I swear if you don't quit being such a smartass, I will tie you up with your own tail and leave you in the lab for Mom and Dad to find."

Phantom just laughed harder and pulled his tail and his human in closer to deliver the 'real' kiss that had long been coming.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~~Send me a ship and I'll write the first scene I think of with them!

#danny phantom #ask hannah #ask game #danny fenton #pitch pearl #hannah writes #scarletsaphire #oops i suddenly love phantom being an absolute tease with his tail #also now a diehard believer of the headcanon that phantom's tail is pretty much intangible to anyone other than fenton #i will absolutely do something else with this #as in i have already started something else with this idea hehe #anyway i love my fluffy bois #thanks for the ask!!

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fluffypotatey · 3 months

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Pre divorce shadowpeach didn't seem to be the type to fight a lot. In fact the shadowpeach divorce probably blew up that big due to all the unsaid frustrations they never let out.

So I'm just imagining shadowpeach never fighting in an obvious way (closest to fighting would be backhanded comments or barbed words) but that just makes things more unsettling

oh yeah 100% it didn’t help that swk was always leaving FFM out of his need to get stronger and be the best and be respected. not to mention they probably never saw their times together as the right moment to voice their concerns out loud because this was their time to wind down and they just had to wait it out, wait until everything was perfect enough to have those talks

#then everything went to shit #nothing was okay #swk was trapped under mountain all by his lonesome and def going insane #then Macky visits him (i’ve assumed that memory in s4 was Macky’s 1st and last visit) and they can’t pretend everything is ok anymore #tbh it was probably super ironic for them bc it might’ve been that swk would act like nothing was wrong & everything was under control #pre-battle with Heaven with Macky being the one with some concerns. but then Macky visits acting like everything’s chill and swk can’t #thus their fight is equally harsh and explosive (bc that’s what i find fun) and they never really say they’re done with each other #but both confirm to themselves that this is probably the end of their relationship and then oops! swk is free but won’t come home #why won’t he come home? Macky isn’t sure but he knows that swk is looking carefree with some new buddies and gets pissed #(Am I placing assumptions? Yes. Do they have any semblance to canon? They do if you consider my heart and passion)#anyway mixing jttw events that lmk hasn’t confirmed: Macky dies by SWK’s hand (whether directly or indirectly)#and the divorce is set in stone (bc how can a relationship reconcile or get back if the other is dead? as far as swk knows)#fast forward to lmk and they still can’t be civil or ignore their relationship issues like before and fight/butt heads constantly bc yeah #like yeah past shadowpeach is cute & fluffy & codependent still but they don’t have that hostility like in their divorced/still married era #lmk #shadowpeach #asks

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amhooman · 1 month

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idk

then the narrator refused to use his form for like 20 resets

#the stanley parable #tsp #tsp narrator #tsp the narrator #human narrator #tsp stanley #should i even tag stanley lol #ft stanley's hand #he got chomped #:'D #me artd #oh s ht i forgot stans stripes thingy #oop #i just realize that most of the stuff i post abt my stannarrator are pretty fluffy and lighthearted #i find it kinda funny

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thimbleb3rries · 3 months

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Miraculous fanfic writers who really take off the kiddy training wheels and make it bloody... I love you guys

I love it when people make hawkmoth actually a villain to be afraid of

I love it when akumatized villains can cause some real damage

I love when it triggers angst AUGHHH

Being scared for the characters, being scared with them, feeling as they do. It's sickening and I can't get enough

Don't let it be misunderstood!! I don't mean horror! I just mean like the feeling of tragedy almost if that makes sense. And like the added sense of realism kinda?? Like magic suits that give you invulnerability is pretty cool but like. The added sense of danger like every battle could be their last is so compelling to me.

When the characters get wounded during battles or end up with scars idk it has me like AUGHFHDWRRRGDFSH!!!!!!

OR WHEN A CHARACTER STRAIGHT UP DIES?!!!??!? SICKKKKKK... SICKENING

But I love it, it's so fun

Am I making sense

#i read sweet fluffy fics too #i prefer them actually!#sometimes its just fun to be obliterated by my own emotions #and hearing how different writers describe blood is really fun #miraculous ladybug #oops! all berries!#i dont think i described this to the effect that i wanted

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redd956 · 1 year

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Intimidating/Deadly Caretakers

I personally prefer and love a caretaker dynamic where Caretaker is feared, powerful, or highly skilled in a way. Strong, intimating, potentially deadly caretakers. Buff bois, and gorls, all that such...

-Caretakers who are muscular, known to be strong, and don’t hesitate to manhandle all of their problems

-Caretaker with scars (secretly from biking but they’re not telling anyone that)

-Caretakers who are soldiers, villains, unexpected doctors

-Caretakers who are nonhuman and therefor deadly by human standards

-Stoic, quiet, or downright scary/intimidating caretakers where even Whumpee is at a loss

-Caretakers who are feared by Whumper just as much as Whumpee

-Caretakers who aren’t all sweets, smothering, and excessively motherly

-Caretakers who aren’t two-dimensional; where their only personality traits come from the fact that they are a caregiver and caring for someone

-Caretakers who stumble across their whumpees in suspicious ways

-Caretakers donning heavy gear, equipped with weapons, unafraid of dangerous terrain/situations

-Caretakers who are culturally different them whumpee, because my favorite trope is two characters who are culturally different

-Caretakers who glare at the team, and the team scatters or straightens up

-Caretakers who are larger than the other characters, and aren’t just the same stereotypical leader guy that I see everywhere

-Caretakers that defy all the common stoic caretaker tropes, but are still intimidating

#look I'll admit #I'm just tired of seeing twinks #the same leader caretaker guy #and the stoic caretaker who doesn't love anyone #but oops secretly they do #like I just want something different #I big fluffy angry caretakers #caretaker #whump #whump caretaker #different kinds of caretakers #intimidating caretaker #whump prompt #caretaker prompts #scary caretaker #deadly caretaker #I kinda despise twinks to be honest #just not my favorite character archetype

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ask-eddiekasp · 11 months

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GUYS! I got accepted to a college out in California and…it doesn’t actually feel as exciting as it should be? Yay me?

-Richie

Part one of a mini comic about these two losers and their college acceptance letters.

#eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #reddie #next part is short and more about Eddie’s lack of responses from colleges he applied to #I love fluffy reddie so nobody come for me for not play fighting all of the time #I hc that they are occasionally softer when no one else is around #friends still gotta support friends you know?#also one day I’ll draw a consistent height difference between them #but today is not that day #idk how to draw panels oops

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666herescared · 10 months

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Imaginary Shadow Dad)Ch.5: Grief Stricken

—☆—

Notes: He’s out of time. (I’m so fucking sorry)

—☆—

He was running out of time. His healing was slowing. He was on the verge of not healing at all. He was spreading himself too thin. He had started letting the twins train Xiao-Xiao so he could rest, and it was getting harder to join their games. Xiaotian was really worried for him. The cub had started wearing the extra limbs whenever he was over once he'd learned how. His tail would wrap around the adult’s as he hugged him on the couch or in a nest, and his ears would droop with fear when his dad zoned out.

Shadow Dad had been struggling to breathe every time he made a hard impact and the twins had been having to snap him out of it when he dozed off. He was trying to rest more, but whenever he rested, he would zone out and scare his kids. He knew it. He was running out of time.

As he was watching his kids play, he knew his wounds were hurting again. His right eye felt hollow and the band on his tail was squishing it again. The twins and Xiao-Xiao all noticed, but they were trying to keep positive. Xiaotian was doing amazing with his training. His blocking with his hands was perfect, he had mastered summoning basic shapes and physicalising them, and his acrobatic skills were fantastic, with or without the staff.

Shadow Dad’s perfect little boy. He was so damn proud. “Are you okay, dad?” Savage asked, floating next to the adult in the shadow realm.

The original opened his eyes with a deep breath. “Yeah.. No need to worry, Savage.” He had to stop to breathe. It was hard to comfort any of them when they were smart enough to know what sickness looked like.

“Don’t lie to us! We can tell you’re sick! How do we fix it? You need to heal!” The other teen exclaimed, exasperated.

“Rumble, you can’t fix it!” The adult started, stopping for breath. “My physical form hasn’t been healing nearly as fast and I’m using too much energy! I-... I’m gonna need to find… someone else… to take care of him.”

“No-!”

“YES, Savage! If I keep tak-..” He started coughing very suddenly and had to calm his breath before continuing. “If... I keep taking care of him… I’ll wind up.. Well… you both know..”

The twins both gave each other a solemn look and had to admit it to themselves. If he didn’t take a break, he might never fully heal. “Then let’s go looking for somewhere safe.”

“We can’t leave Apricot Boy in that environment.” The twins agreed, knowing it was better to do that much, rather than leave their baby brother in such an awful household.

And thus, they began their search for a safer home. Every time they were called by the youngest, they spent time together simply relaxing, but the moment they left, it was back to the search. Oh well. It was gonna be fine. At least Xiao-Xiao was okay.

——000000——

Shadow Dad stopped to peek into one of the homes he saw and watched a conversation between a pig and a scholar.

Pigsy placed a bowl of noodles in front of his husband, a deep sigh coming from his lips. “What is it, Pigsy?” Tang asked, wanting to know what was making his partner upset.

“Just thinkin’..” The chef dismissed, glancing back to the photos on his wall. “I want someone to pass this onto. I can’t let my grandma’s legacy die out with me.” He explained, staring at the wall of photos.

Tang sighed sympathetically. “And I would love someone to tell stories too, but we don’t have the funds. Not to mention the logistical difficulties we would face. Gay same-species couples already struggle to get approved, and demons are rarely allowed to adopt anyone.” The human lamented, wishing the world was kinder.

The shadow on their wall stared in, starting to consider them for his Xiao-Xiao. “I think it’d be worth it..” The pig grouched, still staring at the wall. Shadow Dad could tell these two were reincarnations of Zhu Bajie and Tang Sanzang, respectively, but he could tell these lives were very different.

The scholar adjusted his glasses and looked at the wall himself. “Well, either way, we don’t have the funds, so we can’t do that for a while.”

Funds. Shadow Dad could help with funds! They seemed like they’d be a safe place for his son to go, so if he could get them funds, he’d be able to leave his son with them. Hold tight, Xiaotian! Dada’s gonna find somewhere-

(*SMASH!* “Mommy! Plea- AGH!”)

Somewhere… safe. The shadow rubbed his ears, wondering what that was. Was that a vision? He hadn’t had one of those since when he… had that bad break up. He slipped deeper into the shadows and dipped all the way down to his storage space. Being a public figure had its perks.

He even had temples of his own. Plenty of people were willing to give something up valuable if it meant getting in on a secret. Though there were two temples made by people he knew personally. One was even made with the express purpose of helping him regain strength. Anyways, expensive offerings!

It was… somewhere in the northwest pile. Well, the thing he was thinking of. He called the twins from their search. “Rumble. Savage. Help me find that set of ancient vases, please.” He explained once they were by his sides.

They made questioning chitters, but shrugged and started digging through the northwest pile. Shadow Dad joined the search moments later and dug through the stack, looking for the set of vases an emperor had given him in exchange for revealing the other side’s battle plans. It was valuable back then and it’s surely valuable now.

Digging through the pile, the trio found almost twenty pie tins and thirty necklaces. That idiotic king kept giving him those. Well, the tins had pies in them when they were left on the altar, but still, he kept leaving those to the shadow.

Shadow Dad wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he had to hand the set over now or something would happen to his Little Sky. He wasn’t sure why-

(*THUD!* “Did ya’ hear me, twerp?! How about you run along and let whoever’s been giving you those things have ya!?”)

Oh.. Right. That’s why. He started speeding up with his digging, thinking about what he’d heard. Weird.. Was that Xiao-Xiao’s… He doesn’t deserve Shadow Dad’s title. Was that Xiao-Xiao’s sperm donor? He needed to hurry up. “RUMBLE! SAVAGE! HURRY! WE GOTTA DO THIS FAST!”

The twins saluted from where they were and dove back into the pile, Savage immediately popping back up with the set in it's hands. "I found it!” A shadow whip wrapped around the set and pulled it to the adult’s hands. Shadow Dad portaled to the couple's building again and placed it on their doorstep, feeling the pull of Xiaotian’s lantern a moment later.

He knew it would be hard to explain, but- He saw his son; his perfect little boy, covered in bruises and cuts and barely awake when he arrived. One tiny smile grew on his face, before he passed out. FUCK.

Shadow Dad ran to his son’s side and wracked his brain on what to do. How was he gonna-! You have healing, moron! But- He doesn't have enough energy for that! If he uses that..

No. Stop! Don't be selfish! it's better that he's okay and doesn't know what happened instead of him being dead. He readied himself and let his ears start their glow. He held his hands an inch above his cub’s form and started to repair him as best he could.

His own form couldn’t remain solid even after only healing half of his son’s wounds and he had to pull apart the mini lantern to gain its power. Once he realized that, he picked his son up and brought him to the building he'd picked. His magic healed the boy as he held him close, wanting to hug him as long as he could.

Once his cub was fully healed, he summoned the twins to say their goodbyes. As they cried over their baby brother’s form, he thought about his visions and made his decision.

The boy’s sperm and egg donors were in for a world of hurt.

—Shadow Staff Era, End—

Xiaotian's eyes opened softly, confusion showing quickly. Where was he? He looked around for a moment, before seeing a sign. 'Pigsy’s Noodles' was written on the front. The little boy stood up, staring at the restaurant, before checking his pocket.. He checked the other. He patted every part of his outfit and couldn't find it. Where was his lantern?!

He started hyperventilating and ran around the corner, hiding from the pig demon who stepped out shortly after he'd moved. Where was his dad?! He needed him and he wasn’t there! What happened? He held his forehead and was relieved when he felt the headband was still there. At least he had that.

"What is it, Pigsy?" another voice came from inside, causing more fear in the kid’s eyes.

"Thought I heard something..," the pig- Pigsy, muttered, before looking around. He walked over to where the boy sat. Come on, Xiao-Xiao! Calm down! He's gonna find you- "What the- What are you doing out here alone?"

The demon kneeled down next to him, reaching out towards him but not touching. "Leave me alone." The child mumbled, still holding his headband.

Pigsy sighed and lowered his hand, before saying quietly, "Well, if you're hungry, come in and we'll warm you up, alright?" and walking back into his shop. Xiaotian uncurled and looked toward the warm light. He was hungry… and cold.. and wet.

He kept holding the headband as he walked back around the corner, stepping into the golden glow and feeling the homey atmosphere the moment he entered. "Holy- 300,000?! Who just left this here?" A human said, sitting on a stool with a bowl of noodles in front of him and a set of pottery to his side. He was texting someone. Probably an appraiser.

Pigsy poured a bowl of noodles and placed it next to the human, gesturing Xiao-Xiao over. "Someone stupid, probably. Either way, there goes the money issue!" The demon exclaimed, smiling at his husband while Xiaotian walked in.

He got on the stool and smiled slightly. “Hi..” He waved as the pig placed a pair of chopsticks in front of him.

The human seemed confused, but he waved back, just to be polite. “Hello there.. Where are your parents?” Xiao-Xiao turned his face toward the ground with a frown and the man panicked. “Oh!- I- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were an orphan! Uhm- uh- ah- Food? Wh-What’s your favorite food?”

The little boy laughed at the awkward man, a lot calmer, but still holding his headband tightly. “Um… I dunno.. Congee, probably! Shadow Dad always makes that!” He exclaimed, noticing the other’s face shift to confusion again.

“Wait. I- aren’t you… an orphan?” The adult asked.

“No. Shadow Dad is gonna come back! I know it! It… He must have just… forgot. He’ll be back any minute!” Xiaotian tried to stay confident in his parental figure, but… Right here, Xiao-Xiao.. It… was hard. He scratched his leg lightly when he felt something touch him through the skin.

Pigsy looked between the child and his husband as the boy started eating. The adults had that odd mind link and realized in sync that the cub had been abandoned. “Yeah.. Well.. What’s your name? We can… take care of you till he comes back.” The demon offered as his husband smiled and nodded along.

“I-I’m Qi Xiaotian. And… you?” The Little Sky introduced himself, trying to force a smile.

“I’m Pigsy.” The demon stated, smiling at the kid to comfort him.

“And I’m Tang. Nice to meet you, Xiaotian.” The human said, taking another bite of his noodles.

Silence fell as the humans sat there eating and the pig wiped down his tables and counters. Right before he turned off the TV however, he saw what they were reporting on and paused. "News has spread about local parents, Qi Yang and Guo Jiao. Apparently, they have disappeared from their home, despite the fact that no one has been seen going in or out the whole day. This has caused the police to suspect that a demon has committed this atrocity, but so far there is no hard proof. Now, onto the weather.."

The boy looked shell shocked by this development, but said nothing until the TV was off, at which point he let out an airy laugh. “Shadow Dad can be my actual dad now! I just need to wait for him to come back… and that shouldn’t take too long! He should be back tomorrow!” he claimed, though it was clear he wasn’t sure. Xiao-Xiao.. The loss of his lantern meant a loss of control, and now that he thought about it, everything was too bright. Could they turn the lights off?

He blocked his eyes from the light and got back to his noodles, not noticing Pigsy taking the scholar a few feet away for a private conversation. “Okay. So the kid was abandoned, right?” The demon confirmed, waiting for his husband to nod before he continued. “And from what he was saying, it sounds like his parents went missing, and he’s talking about some mysterious Shadow Dad,” Tang nodded, wondering where the pig was going with this. “And he expects this, “Shadow Dad” to come back, but he doesn’t even sound sure.”

The human had enough of this and butted in. “Pigsy, where are you going with this?” he asked, hoping his husband would get to the point.

“Xiaotian is an orphan… who walked into our lives… the same day a package of valuable vases appeared on our doorstep while we were talking about adopting. Do you know what that means?” The pig began, getting his partner’s trademark, ‘Get on with it.’ look. “C’mon, Tang! You’re the one who’s into this spiritual mumbo jumbo!”

“Are you saying a god literally dropped a child on our doorstep?”

Pigsy face-palmed and stared at his husband, before explaining to the flustered scholar, “No. I’m saying that this “Shadow Dad” guy dropped his son on our doorstep. My guess as to why is as good as yours, but still, the kid is an orphan and we have money now, so… y’know..”

Tang sighed and stepped towards his bookshelf, picking the first book of JTTW off of it and returning to his husband’s side. He gave a sympathetic smile to his partner and tried to let him down easily. “I know you’re excited, but where would we even keep a kid? Not to mention, adoption interviews are an integral part of picking a kid to adopt- Yes, Xiaotian?” The boy tugged on his sleeve and interrupted him.

He was staring at the book in the scholar’s arms with stars in his eyes. “Is that the book Monkey King’s from?” He asked, still staring at the book, then he glanced up at Tang’s face and flinched away at the pointed look he was given, though he couldn’t tell the emotions behind it.

And so he was baffled when he was lifted into the human’s arms as he started talking and walking towards the door. “Come along, my dear Pigsy. We cannot allow this boy to fall into a home where his mental dexterity will not be nurtured!”

“What is happening?” The child asked, before hearing the pig snort out a laugh.

“Tang- Tang, sweetie. It’s eleven P.M. No ones open!” Tang stopped when he brought it up, and then walked back over to the stairwell. One set went up to an office space and the other went down to the couple’s own home. Yes, they lived in the basement. Do you have a problem with it? No? Good.

“Right! Sleep, breakfast, then foster.” The adult said, walking down the stairway to his home. The first room you saw was the living room, which was fairly simple. A deep red sofa, redwood coffee table, and matching TV stand and carpet! (Though the carpet had a golden edge)

There were also a few bookshelves behind the set up. It was clear to see that Tang designed this room. To the right of the door was the bathroom, and on the other side of the TV was the door to the bedroom. Where’s the kitchen and dining room? The fucking restaurant, of course!

The scholar placed the boy on the couch, turned on “Monkey King: The Animated Series” and then went into the bedroom to get a blanket for their guest. He helped Xiaotian get comfy, and then went to bed with his husband. “Heh. And you were thinking we wouldn’t wanna keep this kid.” The pig joked, getting changed into his sleep wear.

“It may be a logistical nightmare, but if there’s a kid who’s willing to hear my stories, it will be worth it.” Tang stated,taking off his glasses and changing into his nightgown.

As the two got into bed, Pigsy added, “And if he’s willing to learn my recipes, it will be worth it.” The partners agreed that night. They were ready for this kid, because the boy they found was willing to learn.

Shadow Dad watched from the darkness, proud of the boy he’d raised, and happy with his choice of host family.

—Purple Bo Staff Era, Start!—

—☆—

I am so fucking sorry, y’all. It’s called Imaginary Shadow Dad for a reason. (I’m not saying the shadow fam was imaginary, but… Well, you'll understand when you read the next few chapters.)

Welcome to The Five Chapters of Grief, everybody! Next time, Ch.6: Denial.

Have fun, and happy scrolling!

(Also, surprise! There are eras!)

Prev- Chapter 4 and Next- Chapter 6

#lego monkey kid #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk au #ShadowDad au #Dad Macaque #Baby Mk #Fluffy fic #shadowpeach #spicynoodleshipping #freenoodleshipping #monkie kid macaque #mk lego monkie kid #Shadow Lantern #lmk savage #lmk rumble #Oops! It's a little edgy now.

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