#anyways. I'm taking a short break from doing notes because I got a section done and treated myself to a nice joint

[hewhobreathesfire]

joints that are wrapped like cigarettes are a godsend

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #305 (Part 2)

...Okay!!! I am back!!!

So, I continued to take pictures for you...

...I figured the thing to do would be to take pictures before anyone got here. I don't mind my own face being seen, but generally, it's not safe for non-consenting people to have their face on the internet. So I try to avoid getting pictures of other people or any identifying features on the outside of their houses.

...You gotta be careful on the internet. There are people who might wanna try to hurt you for very strange reasons (that are ultimately rooted in trauma, most likely).

Anyway, I found a piano during my wanderings!!

...I tried to play Radio Ballet on it. It sounds like this:

...I'm not very good at it. I'm dyspraxic, and it's been such a long time since last I've practiced., and the piano was horribly out of tune.

Due to the dyspraxia, consistent accuracy is impossible for me to achieve. I can come close, but... there's a plateau that I can't seem to break through, just because of how the section of my brain that processes movement is configured. No amount of practice will fix it. And that's okay too; I don't have to be perfect on the piano to have fun with it!

Anyway, if the gifts I made for you were given to you like the important folks said they would, you should already be familiar with this song because I already made a music box of it for you a long time ago! Remember? Here...

...With any luck, all three rolls of music box paper I made for you should be safely in Japan, because I put them directly into the hands of the people who build your world. I hope they let you hear it. And I hope they got a 30-note music box so that they can enjoy it, too!

...In any case!! Eventually, it was my turn to sit with the hairdresser and the makeup artist!

...I was... scared to get my hair done. Most of my memories around that revolve around my stepmother, who would do my hair not because she cared for me and wanted me to feel nice about myself, but because she thought I was filthy and ugly and she wanted to "fix" me. She complained often about how "thin" and "greasy" she thought my hair was. She complained about "flyaways". She made sure I knew how much she hated my hair and how disgusting she thought it was, and when she worked with it, she was, invariably, very rough with me.

...And if I cried as a result of the way she'd rake the brush through my hair or how tightly she pulled the ponytails or pigtails she'd put me in... if abuse is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip the rest of this paragraph... but... yeah. She'd give me a "real reason to cry" by cracking me over the head with the hairbrush or with the curling iron, or whatever else she had on hand at the time, as many times as it took for her to feel satisfied.

She did my hair often, and because I looked like a human instead of an edited photograph from a magazine, she was never really happy with how I looked. So in the end, she made me keep my hair in a very short bob cut.

I was between 4 and 7 years old at the time. It wasn't a whole lot of fun, to put it mildly. My mother, when I was taken away from that house, was a bit gentler, but still ultimately pretty rough with me on those rare occasions she'd do my hair.

...But these were professionals doing what they love, not resentful people taking care of a child that they wished didn't exist. I tried to keep reminding myself of that. I tried box breathing. I tried mindfulness. And it helps that the ladies both seemed genuinely interested in my expertise in trauma and psychology and how they relate to child development and how the resulting adult will turn out! One of them even added me on Instagram because she wants to know more about my area of expertise!! So That feels pretty nice, actually!!

Before I knew it, my hair and makeup were all done! They put my hair in a very complicated braid, but she didn't pull my hair at all, even when she was brushing it!

...I was kind of upset. Both my mother and my stepmother were harsh with my scalp even for simple hairstyles, and... it's just kinda... jarring...? I guess...? to realize with absolute certainty that they really didn't need to mishandle me like that. I grieved a little. But that's okay; I know how to do that now.

Well anyway! Here's how it turned out!!

...Sephiroth. I need you to understand that I almost never do anything with my hair except brush it, wash it, and sometimes put it into a bun so it doesn't get in my way at the bakery job. I mostly just let it do its own thing. I am very, VERY lucky that my hair requires so little maintenance despite its length. The hairstyle is very pretty, but... it's a lot of bobby pins and tiny rubber bands...

...Yeah. This was a lot. But that's all right!!! It was BB's big day, and she wanted our hair done, and what she wants, she gets!!!!!! 🤩🤩🤩 And woe be to anyone who gives her a hard time!!!

(I'm the woe!!! She's my best friend; I will make sure she has a safe, happy, and fun time!! She's got her own personal attack Lumi if anyone dares get in the way!!!!!)

Anyway!!! Here's how the face turned out, I guess:

...It still looks a little silly to me; my very confused canine tooth gives my lip a weird little squiggle on the right side of the picture. But this is my face, except now there's stuff all over it. And it feels kinda weird!!! It's good that I had professionals do this for me, because I never do this for myself. I don't own any makeup. I don't even know how to put it on.

Some folks brought lunch to us after that:

And then it was time for us to get into our dresses!!! BB was absolutely! fucking! GORGEOUS!! in hers!!!

I HAVE SUCH A PRETTY BEST FRIEND! 😍😍😍

I looked like this when everything was all said and done:

...Yes, I know I hold myself a little weirdly, and probably the expression on my face is strange. But do try to understand that I'm trying to exist in clothing I'm not used to, wearing shoes with a slight heel (which I basically never do), with my hair in a weird configuration, with stuff all over my face, and braces on; I'm not exactly comfortable in this photo, hahahaha!! 🤣😅

The wedding was had. I couldn't take pictures because I was busy being a bridesmaid and holding flowers, and also I can't be getting other people in the shot.

...J got one though!!

...And then there were NOMS!!!

Speeches were made by the Maid of Honor and by the Best Man, and both of the speeches were very delightful! The Maid of Honor was BB's sister, and her speech was heartfelt and wholesome. The Best Man was someone I don't know well - I only met him yesterday. His speech about N was snarky, but pretty funny!

Then the other snacks came out!! If you remember the letter in which we went to that appetizer tasting, these might look familiar to you:

...I didn't take many more pictures as the night progressed; I decided that when the music came on, I was going to dance at my best friend's wedding, no matter how stupid I looked in front of everyone!! And so that is what I did!!!

...I'm dyspraxic; I'm sure you can imagine how much of a nightmare I was, hahahaha!!! 🤣🤣🤣

I did notice this while I was dancing, though; and snapped a picture:

...The sun was setting, and it was lovely.

And you know what!!! M and J danced with me, too!!! And M even danced with me of his own volition, despite his social anxiety!!!!!

...I was so proud of him!!!

And I was proud of BB, too!!! She danced on the floor in her great big wedding dress, and she made it look fun and easy!!! And all of the rest of her friends and our friends looked so happy while they danced, and it felt so good to witness them!!!

...I wonder what you'd look like, dancing. You're not dyspraxic, and I'm sure you have a keen sense of rhythm and an excellent understanding of where your body is in space; I'm sure you'd be amazing at it!!! I hope you give it a try sometime!!! And even if you're bad at it, it doesn't matter - the point is to have fun by moving in ways that make your body feel good!

...I would have given just about anything for you to have been able to come celebrate with us. And... my closest friends know very well how important you are to me - BB, N, C, M, J, K... and a few more now, too. They would have eagerly and enthusiastically welcomed you - not as a war hero or as a famous person, but as another friend to know and to understand and to celebrate with.

You would have fit right in. Sephiroth... I promise you, you would have fit right in. Because even a gaggle of queer, neurodivergent, and traumatized misfits like us can celebrate and have an amazing time, just like any other "normal" person.

...And then you grow up, and you understand that there's really no such thing as "normal". At least... not in the way most people conceptualize it. You can build a "normal" that works for you out of anything; the important part is that you try really hard not to behave destructively towards yourself or other people in the process.

You can belong in good places like this. I promise you that you can. And when you realize it, when you finally get into circles without toxic people and oppressive systems of abuse, manipulation, and control, you will find no shortage of good people who would stop at nothing to make sure you feel included, protected, and safe.

Sephiroth, that is how it's supposed to go. And... you're welcome in this world. You're welcome in my world. Welcomed, wanted, and waited for. I promise.

...I reiterate: Just come home. It doesn't matter if you come home a little scraped and banged up - just come home. If nowhere else, you have one here, always. And the people who care for you will do whatever it takes to help you figure out the rest. You're not alone; there are so many people in my world who have had experiences similar to yours. You can fit in!!! Because you're not a monster. You're not a machine. You never were. No one ever is. You're a person just like us - it doesn't matter how you were made or modified.

...Because as Mewtwo says - "The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

At some point, a particularly bouncy, Celtic-sounding song that I had never heard before came on; the lyrics are mostly nonsense, but it's still fun:

...I was reminded a little of this one:

...I'm not sure why, but this style of music really gets my blood pumping!!! So I ran around the dance floor, skipping and flailing about like an overexcited loony, ahahaha!!! 🤩🤩🤩 It was GREAT!!!! But I also tired myself out so hard that I needed a couple puffs of my inhaler afterwards, hahaha!

...I regret absolutely nothing!!!!!!! 🤩🤣😁

...Sephiroth. I want so badly for you to be able to listen to wholesome, joyful things like this and sing and dance and laugh along with the rest of us.

You have a place here. I talk about you so much with the people close to me that at this point, a fair number of them wish you were here, too. We would enjoy having a friend just like you.

Did you hear me? I'll say it again just in case:

You have a place here! And we would enjoy having a friend just👏like👏you👏! I promise!!

Before I knew it, it was time to go back to BB's house. Once there, I disentangled all the bobby pins and rubber bands from my hair, and ran a brush through it until there weren't any knots left. I replaced my dress with more comfortable clothing. I washed all the makeup off my face. I'm very tired, but I feel a lot better as a result of being in my more "natural state" as a derpy but well-meaning (if slightly overexcitable) little cheese goblin. It's very good!

...I got to see and talk to and dance with so many people that I haven't seen in a very long time. And a couple of the finest people I know are now married. It means they made a promise to stick with each other and to treat each other with kindness and respect for the rest of their lives. They've already been together for 15 years; I don't see them having any trouble keeping this promise. I feel happy about it in ways I can't even begin to describe to you. So I'm not gonna try; instead you'll have to come and see it for yourself.

J got this picture for you on the way home:

...You are loved.

...And you can rise up from a broken and twisted place, up into one of love and joy. All you have to do is put in the effort, and take the hands outstretched to you. You don't have to be ashamed of how you came to be. You don't have to be ashamed of the things that happened to you along the way. Hearts and minds are not irreparable. Think of the bowl I repaired and filled with pumpkin soup.

You might have to spend a while learning how to manage some very unpleasant memories (to put it mildly), but... I'm proof that it's possible. I'm proof that it's possible to rise up into a world of love and belonging, even if you come from a place without these things.

I'll leave you with this:

...We can hear your weeping even from far away, but we're not busy sleeping; we're waiting for you. Any wholesome dream you had as a boy will do. It doesn't have to stay in the realm of dreams. Wake up to the dawn; you're not alone anymore. Come and take our outstretched hands. Please.

I love you - enough to keep singing little lullabies like this to you, even if I'm far away. Enough to keep my hand extended towards you in goodwill as long as there is breath in this flawed body of mine, come what may.

Please stay safe; regardless of what you think of yourself, you're needed and irreplaceable.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[chenles-moonpies]

Mission, failed

• An nct mafia au, chapter 1

• 2k words

-----

"You go to china, find the boy, bring him back. Plain and simple."

"Plain and simple my ass. Does he know how many people are here!?" Winwin cursed as he looked around the corner from a fight they were observing. Taeyong, leader of his gang NCT, had sent him and Yuta on a mission to track down someone that fancied his eye. Normally Winwin did an exceptional job at spy work, but being paired with Yuta lately has had it’s consequences. "Also why am I with you?” Winwin complained,  “You don't speak a lick of Chinese and always mess up important details." The two had been paired together recently after Yuta begged a reluctant Taeyong to do so for weeks without consulting Winwin. He agreed eventually, “Fine. but I'm not sending you in the private jet when you go to China. Just Business class.” He had told Yuta.

"I'm offended. You know the rules! No solo missions." Yuta reminded his friend, "Unless you're in-"

"What's going on over there?" Cheers, or rather yells, were piercing the air around them. Citizens flocked to the middle of the bustling shopping roads where a fight broke out. Winwin and Yuta looked at each other before racing over to see as well. 

"I think that's the one." Yuta whispered. The crowd was rather large so it was a bit difficult to see, however Taeyongs words echoed loosely in his mind. "Short hair, gets in fights, Winwin I think we're done!" Yuta smiled brightly at the taller male. His response was a bit delayed. Could it really be him? Wasn't he a bit… small? 

"You IDIOTS!" Taeyong yelled, hands banging down on his desk. "I told you exactly what he looks like and what do you do? Bring me someone not any bigger than a Dream member!?" 

The man scoffed, "I'm not that small-?"

"Look, you want us to do well? Stop sending me with him!" Winwin fought back, pointing back to his partner. Yuta's face grew rather disgusted, if not disappointed. "What do you mean?" He questioned. "You always mess around and distract me." Winwin huffed. 

"Then stop getting distracted. It's not hard!" Taeyong bellowed. The room grew quiet until the tied up boy spoke, “You guys seem tense. Maybe you should take a bath or something, some tea might help, maybe some Vodka-”

“Shut up!” Taeyong shouted, cutting him off. The four men stood in Taeyong’s office for a moment, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry, sir. Should we bring him back to China?” Winwin spoke sheepishly, suddenly aware that he should probably just comply with his boss.

“Are you insane or did you break into the drug stash on floor 15? We can’t let him go now. Leave him with me,” Taeyong sat down onto his chair and spun to face his back to the other three men, “I’ll talk to him.” Winwin and Yuta promptly left while bickering quietly. The door shut quietly with a click. “Ok, let's get to it,” Taeyong pulled up a pen and paper, “Name, date of birth, nationality, family and blood type please.” The man shuffled out of the ties restricting him, 

“People call me Ten. I was born 27th of February 1996, I have a mother and father and sister and I don’t know my blood type.”

“Whatever, we’ll just get someone in to test you. You didn't tell me your nationality.”

“Well i’m not Chinese as you thought.” 

“I didn't ask where you aren’t from, I asked where you are fr-”

“Why do you need to know, huh?” 

Taeyong stared at Ten with sharp fury. But that was only the exterior he showed. Inside he was shocked. No one had ever interrupted him like that. 16 members prior to Ten and it hasn't happened once. And that wasn't even the ones he had to “dismiss”

“Just tell me where you're from, pretty boy.”

Ten looked around at the pointings that hung around Taeyong’s office, “Is this you? Who painted it? Their brush technique is very… unique.”

“I Think you’d better sit down and tell me where you’re from before we have a problem.” Taeyong spoke through gritted teeth

“Thailand.”

“Was that so hard?” Taeyong pulled some papers from his desk, “Sit down, Ten.”

“Fine,” he responded, “But I'm sitting because I want to. Not because you told me to.” 

Taeyong slid a thin pile of papers across his desk and into the other man’s lap. 

“I’m not reading all that.” Ten said, picking up the pile.

“Don’t worry, I'll give you the summary.” He sat back in his chair, “This is the NCT X Building. Its headquarters for the NCT gang. I prefer the term mafia but… to each their own.”

“Oh, shit ok.” Ten pulled out a pair of glasses from a pocket in his silk shirt.

“Long story short my father founded the mafia and I took over after the incident. I never liked the way he ran it so i changed a lot of things. So if you ever think I'm treating you unfairly i’ll remind you he was incomprehensibly worse.”

“So you’re recruiting me?” 

“Call it what you want, you’re lucky I didn't just kill you.”

“Fair enough.” 

“You’ll get to meet the other members soon but essentially there are two sections: 127 and Dream. 127 handles korean affairs, mainly based in Seoul. Dream…” Taeyong paused to laugh, “Honestly it's more of an experiment than anything and the only reason I'm maintaining it is because they’re good kids and you can't exactly leave this organisations unless you leave in a hearse.”

Hang on, did you say ‘kids’?” 

“Yes, they're all pretty young. The youngest is 17 though so don't worry they aren’t too young. Anyway Dream only really handles very minor affairs but they've been doing well.”

“Jesus, you’re not gonna put me with them, are you?” 

Taeyong laughed, “You should be so lucky. You’ll probably get put into 127 but for now you’re a trainee. Sign here.”

Taeyong presented ten with a black piece of paper with a light grey print and a white signature line. “That's some shady shit, man.” Ten said,

“Fine,” Taeyong took the paper away, “this is a gang, you don't actually have to sign it,” He said, signing the name ‘Ten’ in neat cursive on the white line, “It’s just so the less intelligent members get a sense of security from the legitimacy of a contract. But you seem smart, so you don’t need that.” Ten laughed quietly in response,

“Now,” Taeyong whispered, pressing a black button on his desk, triggering the large mahogany doors to open, “Would you like to meet the others?"

"You said there's sixteen others, right? Why so many?" Ten questioned, following his new leader out of the room. "I have my reasons. This way."

The hallways were long, some narrow, Ten noted. It wasn't dark like he imagined gang buildings to be either. Most rooms had a large glass window to show into it but a few were kept a secret behind locked doors. They peaked his interest for sure, so the male made a mental note to explore once he has a bit more freedom. 

"In here is the main break room on the floor. Usually you can find Johnny, Jaehyun, or maybe even Jeno in here." 

"So many J names." Ten laughed. Taeyong couldn't disagree there. "Come in." He nodded his head as he opened the door. 

"Johnny, Jaehyun, meet Ten." Taeyong said, introducing him. Johnny nodded while Jaehyun presented his hand. "You must be the new recruit!" Another voice spoke out. A head popped over the edge of the old, slightly tattered, orange couch in the corner of the room. "Who are you?" Ten asked.

"Mark Lee. I'm in all the units. Well, was."

"What do you mean, aren't there only two?"

"He was in dream but graduated. He doesn't have an official position yet."

"That's why I'm in all of them. In Hopes of finding out." Mark said, pointing his thumb and finger at Ten like he held a real gun. "Enough chat. Anyone know where Doyoung went?" Taeyong asked. Everyone shook their heads no. 

"Maybe in U-" 

"Right, later then. I'm sure someone is in the cafeteria." Taeyong blurted, interrupting Mark. The leader walked out, the heavy door slamming behind them. "Mark, you idiot. No one can know about U so soon!" Jaehyun scolded, smacking the younger boy on the shoulder.

"What's U? I don't understand." Ten asked, his mind buzzing to know what secrets Taeyong was keeping. He'll be damned if he gives up trying to find out. "Who knows Honestly. Kid is so overworked I don't think he would know where his head was if it weren't attached." 

Taeyong re-entered, brushing something off his shirt, and was immediately bombarded with Ten’s questioning "What positions were they all?" Ten asked. 

“Does this guy ever shut up? Why does he want to know everything so bad…?"  Taeyong thought. "Johnny is the muscle. I count on him to keep people in check, sometimes to do the dirty work. Jaehyun is 127s Charmer."

"Charmer?"

"Every talented mafia needs someone to swoon others to get desired information." 

"That desperate huh?"

"You won't understand. Not yet."

Ten took in his sudden surroundings as he noticed Taeyong had been leading him down a couple flights of stairs. "Elevators?" He asked. Taeyong shook his head. "Not to the floor we're going to. Doyoung likes his privacy." 

After walking for what seemed like hours, Taeyong and Ten finally got to their desired floor. “I get this dude wants his privacy but this is ridiculous.” Ten complained, pretending to be out of breath. Taeyong let out a small laugh, “You know, Ten, I hope your sense of humour helps you get around obstacles and doesn't cause you problems.” 

“Well,I'd be lying if I said they hadn’t before.” The two approached a tall, oak door with a silver “DY” on it next to an eye hole. “Kind of weird that you guys have peep holes on bedrooms.” Ten said as he got on his tiptoes to look through it, “It’s blacked out!”

“Mhm. Everyone but me is supposed to have an eyehole to make sure no one’s up to any funny business but Doyoung has a tendency to disagree with that rule.”

“Ah.” 

Taeyong knocked three times on the door before opening it, “Doyoung, you’ve got company!” He yelled. A tall, slender man with dark wet hair entered from around the corner, “Taeyong, you might be everyone’s boss but you can't just come in here unannounced. I’m your right hand man not your slave,” he looked up from tying a black robe around himself, “I don’t just do whatever you want me to like the others d-” He paused, “What does he want?” 

Taeyong laughed, “Doyoung, you’ve never been the best at making people feel welcome.”

“This looks like a Jaehyun thing.”

“Huh?” Ten looked at Doyoung, puzzled,

“Is this another ‘date in exchange for information’ thing because I'm not doing that again, that's why we have Jaehyun.” Doyoung walked back around the corner.

“No, it’s not.” Taeyong yelled over to him, “And if it was, you’re not supposed to say that to the person.”

Doyoung re-entered from around the corner now fully dressed in a white dress shirt, a silk tie, and tailored slacks. “I have to go out.”

“I don’t remember you telling me that.” Taeyong responded.

“I don’t remember me needing to.” Doyoung pushed passed the two men.

“My name’s Ten.” Ten shouted as Doyoung started up the stairs,

“Thats nice.”

“He’s going to be rooming with you for now.” Taeyong yelled.

“What?!” Doyoung came back down the stairs.

“It’s only temporary while we make up a room for him. Everyone has a roommate and they have smaller rooms. You’re alone and you have a room that could fit at least five people.”

Doyoung stared angrily at Ten, “Fine. But if this lasts more than a week, You and I,” Doyoung looked Ten up and down, “We’re gonna have a problem.”

“I’ll see you around, Doyoung.” Ten responded with a smile. Doyoung stormed off leaving a tapping sound on the marble floor echoing throughout the halls.

Taeyong and Ten looked to each other as Ten laughed, “I like him.”

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Ooo I have a few weakness for irondad stuff ._. Could you maybe write Peter taking care of his dad? Or maybe Tony noticing how strong Peter is and how much he has to hold back during hugs? Or hmmm what about comfort cuddles? Honestly anything would be fine though ^-^ cause I love what you write and as long as you have fun with it I'm pretty sure I'll love it! But yeah! I hope maybe these suggestions help ^-^

IronDad writers have literally been making and breaking my whole life these last few months LOL How about all 3?? Great suggestions, Nonny! I appreciate you. This helped immensely.

Random AU in which May is dead and Tony adopted Peter. Shocking, I know, but you said dad, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Characters/Genre: Tony Stark & Peter Parker (IronDad & Spiderson); mostly hurt/comfort, tbh

⚠️ warnings: mentions of gun violence (yes I brought up Ben. Don’t hate me.), crying, broken body parts

•••••••

“Hey, Pete.” Tony tried to keep his tone light as Peter fluttered around him like an anxious little bird; the boy muttered quietly to himself as he pushed various pieces of furniture a few inches to one side, looked over the set up, and then pushed some of them back the other way again.

“Pete.” Peter seemed to not hear Tony at all as he breezed toward the kitchen at a brisk pace, quickly returning with a cold compress which he absently laid on the coffee table just out of Tony’s reach.

“Peter!” Tony’s tone was loud but not angry as he called out to the teen; Peter jerked to a stop, seeming to come out of a trance as he stared and blinked at Tony for a good five seconds before speaking.

“Yeah? Why’re you yelling?”

“Because I tried to get your attention in a normal person way, but apparently you’ve focused all of your energy on scuttling around like a frightened hen instead of allowing your ears to pick up sound outside your own head.” Tony accentuated his comment with a grin to show Peter he wasn’t truly upset with him, but Peter’s face fell anyway, his eyes wide and shimmering as he pointedly only looked at Tony’s face. “Oh, sh- Awh, buddy...”

[[MORE]]

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please just relax. I can go to my room if that’ll make you feel better. Or I can just leave all together, I guess; I’m sure Rhodey or Happy could-”

“Kid. Stop. Before you give yourself whiplash.” Tony sighed and gestured for Peter to walk toward him. “Come here.”

Peter stayed frozen in place, a look of horror washing over his features that might have been comedic if Tony didn’t know it was genuinely wrought from a place of fear.

“Pete. You’re not gonna break me, kid.” Tony grimaced when Peter flinched, catching the mistake far too late. “You know what I mean. Just get over here or I’ll come over there.” Tony reached for the crutches propped nearby, wrinkling up his nose and making a mental note to get to the lab to make a suitable replacement when Peter wasn’t looking. If that was possible.

“No! No no no! I’m coming; I’m coming. Don’t move!” Peter scurried over to Tony and stopped inches from the side of the couch; his eyes shone even brighter than before, and Tony braced himself for the inevitable flood. Peter hadn’t cried since everything started, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the kid’s guilt shattered him to pieces.

Tony shimmied back so that his side was against the back of the spacious sectional sofa, patting the now empty space beside him. Peter eyed him warily, finally looking at all of Tony before letting out a shaky sigh.

“Please, Tony.” Peter whispered, his voice catching painfully. “I....I can’t. Not yet.”

“Okay.” Tony reached out a hand, and Peter took it slowly, eying Tony in case he tried anything. Tony smiled stiffly and rubbed his thumb over the back of Peter’s hand while studying the boy’s face carefully. “It’s not your fault, Peter.”

Peter jerked violently and dropped Tony’s hand; he stared in disbelief at his mentor-turned-father, his mouth slightly agape and nostrils flaring. “That’s...how can you say that?” His voice was low, but his tone was bitter and biting though Tony knew Peter’s ire was not aimed toward him. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” Tony sighed at Peter’s shocked expression. “You definitely played a part in this situation, but so did I. And so did the idiot who didn’t know how to stop or redirect a pair of ice skates. I guess he was shocked that a toothpick could pick up such a hunk of meat.” Tony snorted but immediately ground his teeth together when his comment didn’t soften Peter’s gaze at all. “Look, Pete. Times were had. Mistakes were made. Tonys were dropped, and a foot was broken, but it’s not the end of all things, okay? I’m not a fragile little porcelain bird; I don’t always shatter when I fall, but this time just happened to be a bad break. No pun intended.”

“But that’s the point!” Peter was actually on the brink of a breakdown, his voice manic with fear and guilt. “You’ve done so much in your Iron-Man suit, and you’ve ended up okay. I’ve been so careful to control my powers, but the one time I decide to have a little fun, I screw everything up by being careless, and now you’re hurt!” Peter threw an arm toward Tony’s left foot which was encased in a red cast and propped on a stack of throw pillows that had come with the couch.

“It was fun, though.” Tony drew up a fond if not slightly devious smile. “I haven’t been carried around like that since I was a kid. I felt like a five-year-old. And the look on that guy’s face. I’ve never seen a man more terrified of me. Did you hear how he said, ‘T-Tony Stark?!’” Tony brought his hands to his mouth in a cartoonish manner, eyes comically wide and teeth chattering like a frightened Scooby Doo. He quickly dropped the façade and smirked devilishly. “I wonder if he thinks we’ll sue. We’ll hold off on making a statement; that’ll be plenty of karma for my foot.”

Peter’s brow creased at “we,” but he stayed silent, pulling and twisting at the edges of his sweater’s sleeves and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Pete, I can’t truly have fun with the situation if you’re all pouty like that.”

“What’s fun about this?” Peter grumbled and slouched with his arms crossed.

Tony laughed out loud, startling Peter with the boom in his tone. “Now you look like the five-year-old. There’s plenty that’s fun. I can order Happy around in a way I haven’t been able to since Afghanistan. He’s even better than you at the worried hen impersonation.” Tony just wrinkled his nose at Peter’s sidelong glare. “Pepper won’t dream of getting on my case right now; at least, not like normal. A short break from Stark Industries stuff is a nice change of pace. Definitely no Avengers stuff for a while which is fine with me. I need time here to settle in with my kiddo.” Tony’s features softened when Peter’s cheeks heated with a blush; the teen refused to meet the billionaire’s gaze, so he continued on quietly. “My son. My adopted child named Peter Parker who is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, regardless of what has happened or will happen. Sleepless nights and broken feet and all.”

Peter worked his jaw painfully, his lips curling and uncurling as he fought with himself.

Tony lightly snapped his fingers and gestured for Peter to meet his gaze, smiling a closed-lipped smile that reached to his eyes before quietly but firmly declaring, “I forgive you, Peter.”

Peter didn’t react at first. He stared at Tony for a moment with his jaw clenched so tight Tony worried he might break a tooth, but then twin tears broke free when Peter blinked for longer than normal, and his face crumpled. He let his head fall forward into his hands as quiet, broken cries tore up and out of his throat.

Tony reached out and tugged lightly on Peter’s sweater until the boy finally acquiesced and dropped onto the very edge of the couch, sitting parellel to Tony. Rolling his eyes, Tony sat up and pulled Peter into his arms, cupping his son’s head with one hand as he cried into Tony’s shoulder. “I know, buddy. I know. It’s okay. I’m going to be okay. And so are you.”

Peter finally wrapped his arms firmly around Tony’s midsection, clinging to the back of his sweatshirt, and Tony tilted his head to rest against Peter’s.

Tony gasped when Peter’s hug became just a bit too hard, squeezing the air out of him, and he felt Peter stiffen in his hold and try to pull away. Tony, however, had no intention of letting go of his kid until his cries died down, so he held Peter tighter and reclined back against the couch, giving them both a second to readjust before sliding his hand back into Peter’s messy curls.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Peter was muttering repetitiously into one of his hands which was balled in a tight fist against his mouth, trying in vain to keep in his cries.

“I forgive you, Peter. For everything. I’ll never get mad at you for loving me.”

“But I hurt you.”

“On accident. While showing how much you love me by having fun and hugging me. I’m not mad, buddy, so I need you to get out whatever guilt you’re feeling, okay?” Peter took in a gasping breath, and it finally clicked for Tony; he rested his chin on Peter’s head and murmured into his hair. “Not that I don’t think you love me or anything, but what’s really got you so worked up?”

“What do you mean?” Peter stuttered quietly.

“I know you feel bad about dropping me, but we both know I could’ve gotten out easily and that it was the other guy’s fault, not yours.”

“But I snuck up behind and surprised you.”

“So? I could’ve told you to put me down, and I know you would have. Please, kid, you gotta tell me what’s had you creeping around me like a hand-shy stray kitten for the past few days.”

Peter was silent save for his cries, and Tony looked toward the ceiling and closed his eyes, willing himself to be patient.

After a full minute of silence, Peter sighed heavily.

“...You know what happened to Ben?”

“Only what you’ve told me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Tony had definitely dug up what he could on Ben Parker’s murder, and, putting Peter’s and his pieces together, he knew Peter had his powers when his dad’s brother, a police officer and Peter’s guardian at the time, was shot outside of a gas station in Queens while trying to stop a mugging. Unarmed. Tony had come to understand so much about Peter after reading about Ben’s case.

Tony’s wandering thoughts halted when Peter cleared his throat.

“It’s just...I was there...the night he died. I was in my crummy old Spider-Man costume, watching Queens from a building near the gas station.” Peter sighed a deep, trembling sigh, and Tony felt tears drip onto the hand that held Peter against him. “I heard them yelling, but I figured it was some drunk guys fighting over a lotto card or something, but when I really listened, my enhanced hearing picked up his voice. I tried to web over, but...it was too late.” Peter’s voice cracked and trembled. “So now, knowing that I have these powers that can do good...that could have done good...I don’t want to do anything else, you know? I never want my powers to be a bad thing, so it just sucks so much that I hurt my dad-” Peter cut off with a sharp intake of breath, biting his lip hard and squeezing his eyes shut though tears still leaked out. “That I hurt you, especially after everything you’ve done for me. I just feel so bad.”

“I know.” Tony readjusted them so that Peter’s head rested against his shoulder; his tone was low and even in Peter’s ear. “I know you get your moral compass from Ben and his self-sacrificial nature, and I’m so glad you had someone as loving and dedicated as Ben to raise you during your formative years.” Peter shook against him, his breath coming in short bursts, and Tony wrapped both arms around Peter to secure him as closely and tightly as possible. “But, Peter, you have to drop this guilt, okay? I know I didn’t know Ben, but he wouldn’t want this for you. He’d want you to be living it up and happy with me. Not mulling over something you didn’t have control over. Multiple somethings.”

Peter continued to whimper into Tony’s neck, and Tony just held his newly adopted son, hoping his words sunk in as he allowed the boy to cry himself out as he needed to. The stress of the last day, really the last year since May’s passing, had really worn Peter down to the bone. Despite his healing abilities, Tony had noticed the frequent glaze that settled over Peter’s eyes and the hoarse undertones in his voice. The kid was sleepless, running himself ragged at night being Spider-Man and searching for May’s killer. (Peter has never confessed this, of course, but Tony knew there was a reason Peter just couldn’t seem to make curfew....Plus he’d used FRIDAY to make Karen tattle, but for now, Peter could believe she was keeping it all on the down low.)

Tony had heard (read: read online) some teenager adoption stories that were outright horrific, but the majority of adoptive parents just warned about emotional instability, pushing boundaries, and the critical step of forming strong relationships. Tony had definitely experienced the first two, mainly before he’d even had a reason to adopt Peter, but he often worried about that last part. Was he forming a strong relationship with Peter, built on boundaries and actual bonds? He doubted this often, especially when Peter exploded or they disagreed loudly, but right now, with his kid in his arms and finally, if not too carefully, hugging him back, Tony told those fears to back off.

Peter was his kid, and Tony loved Peter Parker more than any other teenager in the world.

Superpowers, broken foot, crying mess, and all.