#he was one of my favorites growing up and still is

[cursedcola]

Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.

Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.

In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.

After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.

Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.

How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.

He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.

He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.

"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.

Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.

Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.

Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.

Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.

She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.

That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.

Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.

His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.

For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.

Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.

It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.

Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.

Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.

He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.

She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.

Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.

"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"

"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."

Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.

"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."

Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.

At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.

Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.

Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.

In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.

"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"

Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.

He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.

His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.

"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"

Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.

The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.

"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.

"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.

Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.

Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.

Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.

Except it would be inevitable.

Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.

"Papa...did I do something wrong?"

He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.

Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.

It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."

He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.

Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.

So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.

And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.

"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.

Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.

Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.

One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.

And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.

One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.

His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.

He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.

Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.

A medical marvel. That's what this child was.

Not a miracle. Not a blessing.

A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.

There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.

And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.

The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.

It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.

Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.

It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.

He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.

"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."

Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.

Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.

"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"

That got him to scoff.

"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."

"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."

"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."

Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.

You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.

Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.

He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.

Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.

Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.

Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.

"Baba?"

Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.

Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).

"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."

His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.

"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"

Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.

The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.

Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.

His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.

Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.

Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.

"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"

"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."

Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.

Only two of those three succeeded.

"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"

There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.

"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"

Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.

Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.

He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.

"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."

And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.

He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.

and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.

"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "

"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"

Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?

No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.

When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.

Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.

Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.

His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.

He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.

The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.

Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.

Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.

"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."

Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.

"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."

The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.

"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.

"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."

He didn't wait for further inquiry.

"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."

His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.

"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.

On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.

The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.

"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"

The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.

After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.

Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."

And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.

Maybe.

If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.

Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.

Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.

**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms

Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged

Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -

She inherits his genius.

Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.

Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah

No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.

But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.

It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.

Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”

Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.

Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.

“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“

And then she did.

The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.

He should have known.

Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.

He is the one who created this monster.

Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.

He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.

“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.

“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.

“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.

“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”

Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.

“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”

He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important

As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.

No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?

Boom

“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”

No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.

He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.

He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.

Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.

A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.

In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.

Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.

And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.

Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.

“Father?”

Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.

Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.

No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.

None had permission for such rudeness.

No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.

Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.

“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.

His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.

“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.

Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.

“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”

Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”

His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.

“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”

“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“

“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“

“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”

The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.

Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.

So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.

“You’d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”

At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.

"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.

"You know with certainty that it was."

A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.

The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.

After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.

“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”

“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”

He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.

How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.

His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.

Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?

Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.

“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”

It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.

The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.

It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.

“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPOST TOUR NAP * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N and Chris finally have their first afternoon-post lunch nap after a whole month of Surprise Party Tour.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Had my first afternoon nap today after years without one and had this idea 🤭.

It was somewhere around 3:07 p.m., maybe 3:11 if you counted how long it took for the dishwasher to hum to life in the kitchen.

It was dark - even though the sun still shined high up outside, paired with the soft whirring of the AC above their heads.

Y/N had gotten there first, obviously. She’d brushed her teeth right after she finished her plate, slipping into her - Chris's - favorite oversized pajama shirt. Now she was all cocooned up on the left side of the bed, curled inward with the blanket pulled over her head.

Her phone was somewhere on the floor, forgotten, her face still faintly warm from the leftover sunburn from their constant walks from one gas station to another when the boys' bus tour made its road pauses.

Chris finally padded in.

Barefoot, teeth freshly brushed, hair slightly messy. His shorts sat low on his hips, and he stretched his arms up with a deep, lazy sigh before walking over to the bed and lifting the blanket.

"Food was s'good, babe." He mumbled as he climbed in, voice gravelly and thick, words coming out like they were too heavy to carry, letting them roll out slow and warm.

Y/N, already half-asleep, turned her head just a little, barely cracking an eye open to find him through the golden light.

"Yeah?" She whispered, a small smile playing on her lips, her voice light and smushed into the pillow.

Chris let out a small hum, the sound vibrating in his chest before slipping out, all content and sleepy.

"Mmhmm. Missed your food s'fucking much this past month."

She chuckled softly, but didn’t answer, because Chris was already tugging her closer.

His big, warm hands found her under the blanket like it was second nature, sliding beneath her shirt with zero resistance, just to feel her skin.

Cold fingers, warm belly.

She twitched at the contrast and let out a little breathy laugh, which made Chris grin lazily.

"Sorry, sorry. Hands are cold." He said, even though he didn’t move them away. He just pressed them flatter, warmer now, against her waist, then her hips, then settled at her lower back. "Need to be close."

Y/N melted, humming lowly.

He tugged gently, so naturally, pulling her entire body toward his like he was some sleepy human magnet. Legs tangled without even thinking, one of his knees slipped between her thighs, the other looping behind her leg and keeping her still.

He was warm. Not hot. Warm. Like a heated blanket but with a heartbeat and muscles.

She snuggled in, arms folding up between them, tucked right against his chest. That spot between his ribs and exactly where their bodies almost smushed too close to breathe, but neither of them cared.

Her nose bumped his. His lips ghosted her forehead.

Chris let out another one of those soft groans, the type that wasn’t really a groan, more like a sleep-noise. Low and scratchy.

He shifted just a bit, getting even comfier - if that was possible - and then exhaled. His puff of breath hit her skin, hot and sweet-smelling, like leftover toothpaste and warm seasoning from earlier.

"This is heaven." He murmured.

She nodded into his chest, her arms pressing him tighter, nose brushing the curve of his jaw now, smiling faintly with the small hairs finally starting to grow freely after a whole month of constantly shaving.

"Missed this."

"Yeah." He agreed, sleepily. "Couldn't take another day of sleepin' like a fucking crushed jelly."

Y/N giggled, barely a sound, all muffled and soft, because how the hell did he thought of that?, and he smiled without opening his eyes.

He moved his head a little, awkwardly searching for her mouth, his chin bumping against hers too many times before finally meeting her soft lips, mouth barely moving but still pressed to hers.

Then he moved again.

One right on her cheek. Another on her nose. One more by the corner of her mouth that lingered longer than the rest. His lips were plush and slow, not rushed, just affectionate. Like he wanted to memorize her without actually waking them up.

She shifted her head again until their faces were ridiculously close, noticing how she was now laying on his pillow with him. Their noses brushed, again and again, in tiny, sweet nudges like they were dancing. And Chris, eyes still closed, leaned in and kissed her fully this time.

A lazy, slow-sinking kind of kiss, if this can even be called a kiss. All lips and sleepy love.

"Love you." He whispered, right into her mouth, like it was a secret.

"Love you more." She replied, and he smiled again, because that always made him wince a little - he never won that one, and she knew it.

They stayed like that. Breathing each other in. Her fingers curled into his shirt, just gently fisting it like she never wanted him to move.

Eventually, they didn’t moved anymore. The nap rolled in like a wave, the type of nap where you don’t even notice you’ve fallen asleep until you’re waking up hours later and the blanket’s slipped halfway off the bed and one of you’s drooled a little, but you still don’t wanna get up.

Because, finally, there was nothing else in their heads at that moment.

Just Chris to her.

Just her to Chris.

© vanteguccir

[tsunodaradio]

to be honest ⛐ 𝐀𝐀𝟐𝟑

“i’m sorry i had a machine hooked up to me and i couldn’t lie.” 

ꔮ starring: alex albon x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 1.4k. ꔮ includes: romance, fluff fluff fluff. inspired by and references the Does Alex Albon think he is No. 1 at Williams? | The Lie Detector video, secret (not for long, sucker) relationship. ꔮ commentary box: this idea has been clanging in my head for two weeks now, i fear 🐈‍⬛ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Alex had asked—begged—you not to watch the lie detector test video. 

You agreed, but not without teasing him about divulging some embarrassing secret. You figured it was something along those lines. Maybe they made him choose his favorite cat or reveal his ridiculous pre-race routine. Either way, your boyfriend seemed pretty serious about not wanting you to see that particular piece of content. 

Except it’s been impossible to avoid. 

Your algorithms are unsurprisingly fine-tuned to anything and everything Alex. Clips of his radio messages on Instagram reels, edits of him to Hamilton songs on your TikTok For You page. You’re idly scrolling through your Twitter feed when one particular post catches your attention. 

It’s not even the concept of a reveal that catches your attention. No, that was to be expected. 

What did they mean—Alex asked for it not to be mentioned? 

It’s one thing to keep you from watching. It’s a completely different situation to ask everybody else to stay mum, as if purposefully keeping you out of the loop.

That would make no sense. You try to shake the thought out of your head, try to go back to doom-scrolling, but it nags in the back of your brain. Alex wasn’t the type to hide things from you. The two of you were a secret to the rest of the world, sure, but there were no secrets between you. 

Right? 

You set your phone on Do Not Disturb. You scrub the kitchen clean. You take a scalding hot shower. None of it helps. 

By the time you’re back on your couch, red-faced from the heat of your bath and something else entirely, you make an executive decision. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, you decide. Alex has given you grace for much worse. 

You pull the video up.

The guilt you’re feeling ebbs at the familiar lilt of Alex’s accent. My heart is gonna be, like, two hundred.

He’s not even on the screen yet, but you can imagine the way his boyish smile would curve around the words. He’s not due to visit until much later, so this six-minute video will have to tide you over the feeling of missing him. And your curiosity. That, more than anything. 

For a moment, you nearly forget why you’re watching. It’s so easy to be distracted by Alex’s sheer expressiveness, by the way he’s always just a bit breathless when he’s laughing. You want nothing more than to reach into your phone and will him to be seated right next to you, alleged reveal be damned. 

Have you ever sat on the toilet so long, your legs fell asleep?, he’s asked, and you simultaneously snort with on-screen Alex. 

Many a times, he answers, and it’s registered as the truth. But it’s more because that’s my time to watch TikTok.

You’re all-too aware of that habit. The petty arguments of you slamming on the bathroom door, demanding for your turn, only for Alex to shout back that he’s finishing part 32 of some movie cut up into several videos, and he’ll be out soon, he swears. It’s the type of domestic image that paints how comfortable the two of you have been this past year, even if there was nobody else to see it. 

Did you have a celebrity crush growing up? 

Yes, on-screen Alex responds. When prodded, he adds rather sheepishly, Erm… Emma Watson. 

You knew that, too. When you first found out, you made Alex sit through the fourth movie so you could tease him relentlessly. Fed up, he had tackled you down onto the mattress during the Triwizard Tournament’s Second Task. The ensuing makeout session had been both heated and playful. A part of you can still feel it thrumming beneath your ribs, months later. 

You’re scheming how to orchestrate another Harry Potter marathon just as two things happen at once. 

First, the Alex on-screen gets asked—baited, more like—with a query of And does your girlfriend compete? 

Then, your front door swings open. The man himself calls out like he always does, “Honey, I’m home!” 

It’s an inside joke, one you can’t really dwell on. Your attention is halved. 

You’ve started out of shock, and your phone is playing on full volume. Just enough for your boyfriend to hear his own sputter of My—my what? from what you’d been watching. 

There’s the sound of something crashing in the entryway. Later, you’ll discover it’s Alex having dropped his duffel bag in his own panic. 

He’s at the mouth of the living room in the next second, but you’re too busy going slack-jawed at the scene in the challenge. The polygraph shoots up. The examiner shakes his head amusedly. The man on the screen fucking laughs, goading Alex, So there it is! You’ve got a girl, Albono?

“You’re watching the video!” Alex shrieks accusingly. 

In return, you screech, “You told everyone about me?!”

Alex darts forward. You mentally curse his racer reflexes and his long legs as he throws himself on top of you. He’s blissfully unaware of his own weight, and so you feel winded amid your attempts to fight back. 

“I didn’t—tell about you,” he argues, his arms flailing as he tries to wrestle your phone out of your hands. “That’s all I said!” 

Which is a damn lie, of course. You don’t even see your screen anymore, but you can hear the video playing out. 

Alex being asked, Would you say this is your soulmate? 

Alex, without missing a beat: Yes. Without a doubt, yes. 

The Alex on top of you groans. He buries his face in the crook of your neck like he might be able to run and hide from his answer, especially as the examiner declares, He’s not lying. 

You relent, hitting pause and casting your phone aside. It lands somewhere by the foot of the couch. “I can’t believe you watched it,” your boyfriend petulantly murmurs against your skin. 

“I can’t believe I’m your soulmate,” you shoot back, and he pinches your side in retaliation. 

“Seriously,” he huffs, adjusting his positioning so that he’s not crushing you too much. “What happened to trust, huh?” 

“Slow down, Gabriella Montez.” 

“Stop being a nerd. It makes me want to kiss you.” 

You’re giggling as Alex rolls off you, flopping to the other end of the couch. He’s all lanky limbs and furrowed brows, his glare fixed on your phone like Sky Sports has personally wronged him. You reach out to rub his ankles, and he instinctively relaxes as if his body is fine-tuned to respond to your touch. 

“I’m sorry for watching the video,” you say. 

Alex frowns. “You’re not sorry.” 

You’re not. 

He heaves out a long-held sigh. “I had to do this whole thing,” he grumbles absent-mindedly. “Hid my Instagram story from you and all that…” 

“You what?” 

“Anyway. Anyway.” Alex clears his throat, his frown curling into a thin pressed line. It’s a rueful kind of grin, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tick for when he’s guilty. “I was going to tell you.” 

“I bet you were,” you hum. 

You’re not mad. Not really. You know he’s been itching to go public, has wanted you in the Williams hospitality suite for God-knows-how-long. That laminated ID card that would proudly proclaim Guest of Alex Albon.

“They still don’t know you,” he offers. This time, he’s reaching out for you. Preemptively trying to soothe some imagined annoyance. Alex tugs you gently until you’re resting between his legs, his face burying in the back of your hair. 

“All they know is that you exist,” he adds, “and they don’t have to know anything else.” 

You feel a pang in your chest, one put there when you’re reminded of just how lucky you are to have somebody so patient. Someone so willing to set aside his wants for your comfort, your peace of mind. 

“Okay,” you say, voice now softer that Alex has his chin hooked over your shoulder. “It’s alright.” 

“I’m sorry I had a machine hooked up to me and I couldn’t lie.” 

You laugh. “As long as you promise to never lie to me,” you note, nudging his ribs lightly. He lets out an exaggerated howl. 

“I would never,” he grumbles, and you know—you know that’s the truth, too. 

You tilt your head slightly, catching the complicated expression on Alex’s face. There’s that hint of insecurity, that touch of guilt, that flash of impatience. But all of it eases up when you lean in, and you kiss the doubt away. 

“I believe you,” you breathe against his lips, and he’s already smiling before he pulls you in for more. ⛐

BONUS —

[toraona]

gif by @apparently-artless

THE LOVE LANGUAGES OF:

— Trafalgar Law

Acts of Service

Law’s love is quiet. He doesn’t show off, brag, or even tells you he loves you—because he doesn’t need to. You already know and so does he.

Instead of saying it, he’d show it through simple actions, such as organizing your files and folders without being asked, bringing you tea on ordinary afternoons, or massage your tense muscles.

At first, it felt strange to experience love like this. Law focused more on his actions than words. But as time passed, you learned that he did it with a soft look—his facial features were less tense, a look he only saved for you. His voice was firm, yet carried a gentleness when it was just the two of you.

“Your back sore? Turn around, show me where it’s tender.”

“I cleaned your desk again. You’re welcome.”

Gift Giving

Law isn’t a gifting type of person. The most he’d do was buy you your favorite snack from a vendor in a village or buy you a set of quills and ink or a pouch of pens to keep up with your writing. He doesn’t bother wrapping it or keeping it as a surprise for later. Once he buys it, he automatically gives it to you when he sees you next.

Quality Time

Being a captain, managing the crew, alliances, missions, and training left Law with a limited time to spend time with you. But despite that, he always blocked out a couple hours just for you.

You’re the main person in the crew able to ground him when chaos overpowered calm. You became one of his favorite comforts, and when he needed to unwind he didn’t need words or distractions. He just needed you close.

Quiet moments with you are his favorite ones. You two exist for each other, and that’s all that matters.

Touch

Law isn’t a fan of public displays of affection. It isn’t that he’s shy, he simply doesn’t see the point of flaunting his feelings for you. What matters to him are your feelings for each other and because of that you two have nothing to prove.

Still, when he wants to offer you reassurance or senses tension in your body, he finds quiet ways to reach out: brushing his fingers against yours, or subtly linking your pinky with his.

Behind closed doors is where you’re the only one who gets to see the captain of the Heart Pirates unravel.

Law’s touches in bed are slow, sensual, and intentional. He is a gentle lover, and takes in every moment with you as if it’s your last.

“Let me take my time with you.”

“Kiss me.”

“Let me touch you the way no one else can.”

And every time you say yes, it is unraveled him even more.

Words of Affirmation

Law doesn’t speak much, only unless what he says is practical, helpful, and important. So when he started complimenting you, or praising you for a job well done, you were thrilled.

“You did great out there. Keep it up.”

“Your onigiri is my favorite.”

“Don’t burn yourself out. I need you.”

You felt seen and valued.

What he hasn’t told you yet was how much you mean to him, how much you’ve helped him grow into a man who knows he’s allowed to be cared for and loved.

He’ll tell you eventually, just not now.

BONUS ✨

Keeping You Warm

On cold days and nights, Law would wordlessly give you his coat, or wraps it around you when he sees you shivering.

“You can’t get sick.”

“Next time bring a thicker jacket.”

“This is an excuse to use mine.”

However, in private, that’s when he’d pull you into a warm embrace and wrap his arms around you, his head either resting on yours or if you’re in bed sleeping he’d hold you close, your back against his chest while he had his arms around you as he quietly whispers in your ear:

“I love you.”

Venting to You

When Law started talking to you about his problems, feelings, and concerns, that’s when you knew it was serious between you two.

He had always kept everyone at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in. But hearing him speak to you with no filter, with no fear of judgment made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You were someone he trusted with his thoughts and concerns, someone who took the time to truly hear him out which was something he hadn’t experienced for a long time.

“Thank you for listening.”

“Sorry if I said too much.”

To you, there was no such thing as Law telling you too much. Everything he shared mattered. If it was important to him, you always promised him it’s important to you.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Welcome home

Hii guys, I hope you enjoy this story based on the recent news about Max, btw I had a feeling it was going to be a girl, he is such a girl dad :) Here's my Max masterist and my main one if you want to read more

The soft glow of the living room lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls as you sat curled up on the sofa, a thick blanket wrapped around you and your daughter nestled into your side. Her small head rested against your chest, warm and relaxed, as you read from the pages of her favorite picture book — something about animals wearing pajamas and going to bed late, ironically matching your current situation.

Your voice was calm but slow, your eyelids growing heavier with each sentence. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t fall asleep, not before Max came home. He’d texted just a little while ago—“Landing now. Can’t wait to see you both.”

You gently yawned and blinked a few times, tightening your hold around your daughter as you turned the page.

Then, you heard it.

The jingle of keys on the other side of the front door. A pause. A click.

Your daughter’s head shot up, eyes sparkling with recognition. “Daddy!” she squealed before scrambling out of your arms and racing toward the door just as it swung open.

Max barely had time to take a step inside before she leapt into his arms, giggling with pure joy. He caught her effortlessly, laughing as he lifted her high. His racing bag fell to the floor unnoticed.

“Hey, liefje,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek and holding her tight. His eyes then lifted and found yours across the room—and softened. “Hey, mama.”

You got up slowly, walking over to them, and he leaned in to kiss you—slow and tender, a kiss that said everything he didn’t have words for in that moment. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.

“I missed you more,” you said, your smile sleepy but real.

Before either of you could say more, your daughter launched into an excited ramble about her day at school—something about a glittery art project and how she and her friend made a rocket ship out of cardboard. Max listened intently, nodding, still holding her as if she weighed nothing.

He carried her down the hallway as she kept talking, her voice growing softer as sleep began to catch up with her. You followed them to the doorway of her room, leaning quietly against the frame as Max tucked her in, brushing hair from her face.

“Love you, daddy,” she mumbled, eyes already closed.

“I love you more, always,” Max whispered, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before standing up and walking with you toward the bedroom.

Once the door was closed behind you both, he exhaled deeply and dropped onto the edge of the bed. “God, I needed this.”

You sat beside him, reaching to touch his face, your fingers running through his messy travel-worn hair. “You look exhausted.”

“I am.” He turned toward you, his hands finding your waist as you leaned into him. “But I’ve been counting the minutes to get back to you.”

You smiled softly, brushing your lips against his again. “I hate being apart.”

“I hate it more,” he said against your skin, his mouth trailing gentle kisses along your neck. “But I’m here now.”

You let him pull you into him completely, warmth returning to your body just from the feel of him—his familiar scent, the scratch of stubble against your cheek, the way his hands knew exactly where to hold you.

And as the night stretched out before you, long after your daughter’s whispers had faded into sleep, you let yourselves forget the world outside. Just the two of you again, making up for lost time.

[kykyonthemoon]

Floating Floraletter

and why it will always be my favorite!!!

‼️ This post contains spoilers for Caleb’s 5 star memory. Read at your own discretion.

‼️ These are just a few words from my perspective after reading the card. I'm aware that each person might have different views, and I'd love to hear from yours too. Please do share your thoughts.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

❀ At first, when I read the title of the card “Floating Floraleter”, I was a bit confused. The “floating” part is quite clear because it refers to Caleb’s boat, Evol (which he uses to make the flowers and MC float). And “Floraleter”? It must be a combination of “floral” and “letter” but I don’t see any letter here. Turns out it’s in the card’s content. And it made me cry.

Since his time at the Academy in Skyhaven, Caleb wrote many letters to MC but didn’t send them. They were all very normal thoughts and reminders he had for her. Yet if she had received them during that time, it would mean that she would never be able to see him again.

Because all those letters were goodbyes that he wanted to say to MC, in case something unexpected happened and he couldn’t come back to her anymore.

All those letters reminded me of the Violet Evergarden episodes; when the mother asked Violet to write a letter to her daughter every year on her birthday because she couldn’t live anymore; or the letters without an address, stacked up at the post office… I felt like this part of the card, although only a few short lines, was enough to be my most favorite so far, because of the emotions it conveyed.

It wasn’t anything grand, it wasn’t anything big, or fancy. Just a few simple lines he sent back to the most important person in his life. It was enough, and sincere. That was all my heart needed.

❀ In addition to the letters that never reached MC, Caleb also kept her photos, and photos of both of them together. He kept them in the most important chip on his aircraft. So that when the time comes and he must go, her image will be the last thing he sees before leaving this world. 😌

❀ Loving a soldier, not only MC but also Caleb always have to face the possibility of never seeing each other again. Caleb states that he also wants to come back as much as MC wishes to see him again. Perhaps it is that small wish of both that makes them try every day, despite all the misunderstandings, the arguments, the distances... to finally truly return home - where each other is. They choose not to say goodbyes, but only hellos. So romantic yet painful at the same time. It makes me cherish peace more than ever, and at the same time remember that separation is inevitable in everyone's life. But if even the desolate land can still grow flowers and grass, then death is only temporary (as the church has taught me that).

❀ There are also some minor details that I probably won’t be able to name them all out here. I love the way MC trusts Caleb unconditionally. He tells her to jump, she does it without hesitation. Because she knows he will always catch her no matter what. I love the way they interact, tease, joke and caress each other. I also love the way MC appreciates him more, understands him and is more proactive with him. If in the previous cards (especially the normal ones) the way MC behaves didn't move me much, then in this card, she shows me the role of being Caleb’s trusted support. Although not much, it is a spark that I hope to see more of in the future.

Let me sum it up by what MC feels: 

I know that no matter what happens, I’m just like him. We always yearn for our home and long to return to each other’s side.

[themadmorrigan]

I don't know what happened... This just flew into my head. I'm sorry.

---

Powerful places in Prythian - like the scenes of old, historic battles that turned the tides of a war, sunken ships that carried countless immortal beings to their watery graves, sites where the greatest acts of love and hate were carried out - are more living than anyone really knows.

Nesta Archeron may have been unique in that she's the only fae (at least in recent history) to Make a place sentient and sapient. But Prythian's a place of old, awesome magic (the other use of the world, in that it's something that inspires awe, not that it's necessarily good), and even the most seasoned Day Court Scholars can't explain why the giant, half buried statue at the border between Day and Dawn whispers to the lost of the desert to come there, or how it quenches the thirst of lonely travelers with its tears. Or, in the seasonal courts, how those that died in the Gelid Wars between Winter and Autumn before Beron's time - before Beron's *grandfather's* time - can still be seen below the ice of that cursed lake, their frozen bodies leering up at those that dare walk across its surface, whispering for them to join. But one of the greatest mysteries of all?

The Forest House. That great tree in Autumn whose hallowed and hollowed branches have housed the ruling family of Autumn since the great oaks and maples of the autumnal woods were but saplings.

Like all trees it grows upwards and downwards and outwards. Its halls are labyrinthine, its branches sometimes organized and spiralling like stairs, other times forming hidden books and creches. The hallways shift, though. Subtly, imperceptibly unless you watch them closely. And the complex is deep, deeper than most know. The more interior you get towards the trees Heartwood, the less familiar the rooms become, the older they seem.

Once, when Lucien Vanserra was seven, he went wandering after his lessons and caught sight of a beautiful, jewel-toned moth. He followed it down a hallway he didn't remember, and then another. To him, it was a lark - he'd never felt like he was in any danger, and the hallways all led to a neat ancient chamber with a bedroom that looked like something out of a fantasy, with wolf pelts adorning the bed and a bearskin rug by the still-warm hearth. The fire there danced and created fantastic shapes, and someone left food outside the door for him - all of which coincidentally happened to be his favorites.

By the time Eris found him, curled up asleep on the massive bed and neatly tucked in, three days had passed. His mother was frantic, but Eris... He'd never seen such a look in his brother's eyes, before or since.

And Eris never, ever spoke of what he saw.

Beware the Forest House. Beware the Rusalka Reservoir, and the great statue that forms the only respite in the vast deserts up north.

Beware of magics you don't know and will never understand.

[syltaxerror]

hey so my friend took my phone and wrote this. he wants me to post it so i am genuinely sorry

AWOOGA MAMA MIA 🥵🥵👅👅👅👅👅

FEET MMMMHH FEEEEEEET AUGHGHHHHGG MMHHH SO YUMMY. back in aught 7 when I was at the spry young age of 15 3/4, I was working at the glue factory so I could afford tickets to the mets game, long story short I was standing over the body of a broken man, covered in blood, and crying profusely as I held his still beating heart. he was a rather large man, suffered from obesity at a young age though he worked hard to lose it, this morning he had eaten eggs for protein, he was an amputee, lost the leg in 'nam, had to get a blood transfusion to live, sadly it gave him HIV but hey, whattya gonna do? he ate cheese a lot when recovering but it didn't help, you cant make it all gooda with Gouda. anywhoosit, by now I had physically aged none but mentally I just put 50 years on my life, hey when you're raised in the big city you learn early on that to get by you gotta learn to grow up quick. A few months had gone by, today was the fourth of July, an old favorite, as a kid I loved nothing more than getting a hotdog from O'l Bill Rodney, dipping it in the apple bobbing stand and getting it all wet, soggy and sloppy. Just as I was running up to the corner and reaching my hands out to make grabby hands (the usual sign in the big city to signal to the hotdog man to "load up that dog with ALL the topping and make it a sloppy one for a sloppy french boy") when out of nowhere some jackanib hurled a ball at my face from 500ft. I knew who it was immediately Collin Björn, my old arch nemisis, he was a swede, as Swedish as they come. he was with his gang of Billy beatdown boys, there was Jorst Yörgen, groghnar Elluquise, Y/N, Jake paul, and Edward from twilight.... to be continued?

crozier's so weird about hickey. sentencing him to the punishment that's way more brutal and way more sexual and way more infantilizing then the 12 lashes across the back given for kidnapping because he kept talking back was a weird move. building a gallows for him designed to strangle slowly instead of the more common hanging style of gallows was a weird move. blaming him for something that was def partly his doing but also the doing of his own men while they go unpunished, therefore turning him into a sineater was a weird move. I forgive everyone expect for you was a weird move. honestly even serving him a drink like that was a weird move. what was going on with that man

[livings-easy]

I feel like no one ever writes about ardra nakshatra which is unfortunate. Learning about vedic astrology helped me understand my western chart more deeply. My cancer stellium resonated but some things just didn’t add up; learning that I have ardra nakshatra recontextualized those things entirely.

So here’s some observations as an ardra sun, moon, and saturn. I also have mars in shatabhista, so I’m a pretty rahuvian individual:

—Never been scared of thunderstorms. Ever. Ardras ruler, Rudra, rules thunderstorms

—I struggled a lot with envy growing up and still do. I often wish I was someone other than myself. In particular, I envy other people’s physical appearance and material wealth.

—One thing I rarely envy is other peoples intelligence lol

—extreme sensitivity to the point of delicacy; rejection feels like dying

—nervousness and anxiety; health anxiety and death anxiety especially. I’ve gone entire years without feeling at ease

—depressive tendencies; suicidal feelings tied to a deep sense of self loathing

—hormonal issues; I have pmdd and my period causes intense mental turmoil every month.

—I am prone to outbursts

—I often feel ignored/overlooked

—I struggle with materialism and consumerism. And it comes in waves. I would buy things for the rush and deeply regret it. Sometimes I get into a mood where I want no belongings at all; I feel weighed down by them

—AT THE SAME TIME I deeply love my things. I curate things very specifically for my liking and I use whatever I have into the ground

—I love making money

—lack of interest in romance or sex. I was watching Vic DiCara’s video on ardra and he mentioned that it is not a sensual or seductive sign, it is more cerebral. I have no experience what so ever in those realms.

—I find it so difficult to care about things I don’t care about; i can’t even feign it. My friends tell me it’s obvious when idgaf about something

—in that same vein, I am known for being under reactive, showing little emotion, acting apathetic in my everyday life

—people tell me they consider me funny but it’s not intentional on my part; to quote some former roommates: “you’re funny because you try not to be” “you have a way about you, it’s funny to just watch you exist”

—I DO intentionally try to be witty and it usually lands. Usually.

—Interest in natural science; I LOVED taking evolution in college it was my absolute favorite bio class.

—I love and am fascinated by animals and not just the stereotypically cute ones, although I do love those too. I unironically watch baby animal videos to calm down after a hard day. I don’t understand how some people can just ignore animals; if an animal is in the room I want to interact with it

—AT THE SAME TIME I understand that there is a disconnect between animals and humans; animals are great because they are truly wild. I’m not necessarily against hunting or meat eating because I understand everything has its place

—personally, I was a vegetarian for many years

—I have always liked jungle aesthetics

—basic, norm core fashion but still a notable element.

—Claire nakti said in her Gemini fashion video that Ardra likes men’s button up shirts…guess what I wear all the time

—i love to exercise and move my body: I NEED to do it

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

The Wrong Buckley. Part One of Six. Ao3 Link.

For once in Buck's life, things are starting to feel normal again.

Bobby and Athena's new place is filled with all his favorite people for what they're calling a "Welcome Home" party - a mix of a housewarming party, a welcome back for the Diaz boys, and a celebration for all the 118 members who are out of their quarantine.

Buck thinks it might be the greatest party he's ever been to, even though he's the only 118 member who isn't technically being celebrated. But with Eddie and Chris filling his home–their home?–with laughter and their own style of chaos, Buck can’t help but feel like, for once in his life, his house is a home. Even with the perpetual crick in his neck from insisting he's okay to sleep on Eddie's couch, this might be the happiest he has ever been.

Maybe it's time for a new software update. Buck 4.0: The new and improved happy Buck who has his whole family back.

It has a nice ring to it.

He glances around the backyard, searching for Eddie so he can fill him in on the news, only for his eyes to land on the empty seat next to Karen.

Huh. Usually, he's better at keeping tabs on Eddie, but the new design of the place is throwing him off his game a bit. Plus, he can barely keep his eyes off where Chris is chatting with Mara, Denny, and Jee, still amazed by how much the boy has grown up since Buck last saw him.

Buck clears his throat and wipes at his right eye quickly, trying not to get emotional about how much everyone is growing up.

"You okay, kid?"

Buck glances up to find Bobby, spatula in hand, wearing his "Kiss the Chef" apron Buck had gotten him as a gag gift, looking down at him with an amused smile.

"Yeah," Buck replies, smiling back at him, "Just thinking about how fast the time goes by, you know?"

Bobby glances over at the younger kids before sparing a glance at where Harry and May are talking with Athena and Ravi. His gaze settles on Buck, eyes lost in thought before he comes back to the present moment, searching for something that's no longer there. "I know," Bobby says, nostalgia heavy in his tone.

It all feels a little too bittersweet for such a lighthearted evening, so Buck gestures to the apron and asks, “Why don't I help you with the grill?"

Bobby chuckles and points the spatula at him. "You can man the grill when you have a get-together at your own place."

And isn't that a thought? Everyone gathering at Bedford St. for an evening hosted by him and the Diazes.

"I'll have to ask Eddie about that. Speaking of Eddie, have you seen him?" Buck can't help but ask.

"I haven't. Maybe check inside the house."

Buck nods, ignoring how Bobby's amused smile graces his face again, and heads inside. As soon as he steps in, he hears Eddie's voice from the new living room. "Hey, I've been meaning to thank you for that picture."

Buck frowns, wondering who else is inside, but his question is quickly answered when he hears his sister's voice reply, "It's a good one, isn't it?"

As Buck rounds the corner, he sees Eddie, head ducked down shyly as his face flames red in a way Buck has never seen before. "Uh, yeah. It really was."

Maddie laughs and reaches out, hand settling on Eddie's arm and squeezing his bicep. Buck takes a full step into the room, glancing around to see who else is in on whatever picture they're talking about, only to find the rest of the space empty. "Well, maybe you should actually-"

"Hey, Buck!" Eddie nearly shouts as he spots him.

Maddie startles, hand shooting back as she steps away from Eddie with a nervous smile.

It's... weird. Suspicious, even, but Buck doesn't want to go down that path of destructive thinking. Instead, he asks, "Since when do you two talk?" Okay, and yeah, maybe it comes out as a bit accusatory when he just told himself he's not going there, but it's a valid question.

"Come on, Buck," Eddie says, trying to brush him off with a nervous chuckle, "Is it so weird to find me talking to my best friend's sister?"

Maddie's face scrunches up at Eddie's wording, and she shoots him a look that has Eddie immediately stuttering out, "A-And my friend's wife?"

"Not helping," Maddie whispers under her breath, but Buck, having grown up with ears always on alert for those whispers, catches it immediately.

Eddie crosses his arms defensively and opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Maddie, who calmly explains, "We started talking more when he moved to Texas. At first, I was answering a question he had for Howie since our place was also a fixer-upper, but then we talked every so often about Jee-yun and Christopher. And after the um..." Maddie trails off, hand coming up to trail over the faint scar on her throat.

Eddie finishes the thought for her, "I shared a little bit about my own PTSD, and we found out we had a lot more in common than we thought." Maddie nods, eyes more tired and sad than they were before. "And we've always been family because of you and the 118, but... now we're also friends.”

Maddie's eyes soften as she looks at Eddie, fondness and gratitude overwhelmingly evident in her gaze.

Buck looks between the two of them, unsure entirely what to say and trying so hard to not make it about him for once. "Uh," he starts, ever so gracefully, "Well, I..." He takes a deep breath and tries one more time, plastering on a fake smile and everything. "I'm happy for you guys. I mean, you're the two most important people in my life besides Christopher and Jee-Yun, so of course I'm glad you guys are friends." He opens his arms and says, "Come here," tugging them into a group hug that he thinks may have oversold the idea that he's perfectly okay with their friendship they kept from him for some reason.

But Maddie and Eddie are both smiling when they all step away. Eddie even jokes, "You're not going to maim my ankle over this, are you?"

Buck cringes while Maddie and Eddie laugh loudly, and he suddenly understands why they may have kept this from him. "As long as you two aren't secretly talking about me behind my back, then we'll be okay."

Something about the comment seems to fluster them, but Maddie is quick to distract him by asking, "You mean, I can't tell Eddie the reason why magnets were banned in our house growing up?"

"No!" Buck is quick to yell, eyes darting to Eddie, who is already giving Maddie a mischievous you'll have to tell me later look. "I take it back, I don't like that you two are friends."

They both laugh again before heading back outside, Maddie giving Eddie a discreet look before she goes over to Chimney. Buck tries his hardest not to overanalyze it, but when he sees the way Eddie flushes bright red again, he knows he won't be able to let it go.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“Buck, did you hear me?” Eddie asks.

“Hmm?” Buck hums in response. He’s glad that Eddie had suggested he drive the three of them to Grant-Nash’s place because he’s unable to focus on anything other than his internal spiral.

When they hit a red light, Eddie glances at him. “I asked if your neck is okay.”

Buck’s hand drops from where he was absentmindedly rubbing at a knot in his neck. “It’s fine.”

“Buck–”

“All good. I swear.”

Chris chooses this moment to pry his eyes away from his phone. “I thought lying was something we’re all working on not doing.”

Buck’s jaw drops as he looks back at the teen who just shrugs at his betrayed look.

“He’s right, you know,” Eddie says, trying to hide his proud smile. “No lying here.”

Buck sighs and hesitantly confesses, “Okay, the couch has been a little uncomfortable to sleep on for an extended amount of time. But we can just get another couch!”

“We already have two in the living room, Buck.”

“Yeah? And do you want to be the one to tell Margaret Buckley that the couch she chose is terrible to sleep on, so we had to get rid of it?”

Eddie’s face scrunches up into an exaggerated frown, and Buck can see Chris shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. Looks like they’ll be couch shopping soon.

But as Buck pulls out his phone to search nearby furniture stores, Chris drops a bomb on them. “Why don’t you two just share Dad’s bed? It’s not like it’s small. Plus, we won’t have to waste time or money on a new couch. And maybe the walls will muffle Buck’s snoring.”

Buck and Eddie both share a look, wondering if Chris has had this little speech prepared for some time since they’ve gotten back. But Buck can practically see the moment that the words register for Eddie as they come to a harsh stop at another light.

Buck gives him a look.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Buck shifts in his seat a bit uncomfortably, trying not to think about why the two of them are so thrown by the suggestion. It’s not like they didn’t share a bed during the beginning of their covid quarantine, but Buck also hadn’t realized he was bi at that point. “I can sell my couch and use the money for a new one.”

Eddie lets out a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, we can share the bed. It was a good suggestion. Thank you, Chris.”

Chris gives him a mhm, and Buck thinks he might hear him whisper, “Finally,” under his breath. They might need to have a conversation about the mumbling at a later time, but right now, Buck is dedicating his time to staring at Eddie while trying to figure out what he’s really thinking. He goes off his tone, which was tense, the words short, and the steering wheel he has in a white knuckled grip that can’t be good.

But now is not the time to pry about it with Chris in the car. Luckily, they’re not far from the house.

When they turn onto Bedford Street, Chris announces he’s going to play some video game with his friends in his room for the night, and Buck is grateful, for once, that it’ll give him and Eddie some time to properly talk. But when they get inside, Eddie is immediately typing away at his phone, asking Buck briefly if he wants a beer, which he declines.

“Hey, Eddie?”

He glances up.

“I don’t mind taking the couch if you feel uncomfortable. I get that you need your own space, and I don’t want to invade it.”

Eddie sets his phone down on the kitchen table and gives Buck his full attention. “You could never make me uncomfortable or invade my space, Buck. If you prefer to sleep on the couch, you can tell me.”

“No!” Buck says a little too quickly. “I mean, I would love to sleep in a proper bed. And your mattress is better than mine, right? That’s why we tossed it out.”

Eddie nods sharply, lips pursed. “Yeah, that’s why we tossed it.” There’s something in there that probably needs to be unpacked, but Eddie is quick to move on. “Let’s get you settled in.” He passes Buck with a pat on the shoulder, heading toward his room.

The whole thing feels a little weird because it’s not like Buck has never been in Eddie’s room before – hell, he was sleeping there for a few months. But now that it’s back to being Eddie’s - with a mix of Buck’s things for safekeeping - it feels… almost off-limits. Maybe because the only moment they’ve really spent quality time in there was to patch things up after Eddie turned his room into a warzone, which isn’t the greatest of memories shared between them. Now, they somewhat share the space in the mornings because of their combined closet and dresser, but it’s all in passing. Buck wakes Eddie up with coffee, Eddie drinks it in grumpy silence while Buck picks out his outfit for the day, and then Buck leaves to shower and get ready while Eddie wakes up.

They’ve gotten used to this routine recently, so Buck can’t help but linger in the doorway now that it’s nighttime.

“You should’ve said something sooner about your neck.”

Buck winces as he realizes he was unconsciously rubbing at it again. “It’s not that bad.”

Eddie gives him a look and waves him inside the room. “Come here.”

He finally crosses the threshold, walking over to Eddie who puts a firm hand on his shoulder and says, “Sit,” as he guides Buck to the edge of the bed. His hand lingers on his shoulder, then trails to the back of his neck, kneading at the muscle. The whole thing makes Buck a little dizzy.

“Damn, Buck. You have a knot the size of Texas back here.”

Buck frowns. “Please don’t mention Texas.”

Eddie chuckles as he shifts onto the bed behind Buck. His fingers expertly dig at the tense muscles, and Buck’s hands fist into the sheets. He hums as he feels the knot loosen, letting out a soft, “Fuck,” when Eddie digs his thumb harshly into it.

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers, voice low.

“Feels good,” Buck groans as Eddie works at it again.

There’s a buzzing noise to Buck’s left, and he glances down, seeing his phone lit up with a text from Maddie. He goes to grab it, only to have Eddie beat him to it, which is when he remembers his phone is in his pocket. It makes his stomach twist a bit.

“What are you guys talking about?” Buck tries to ask casually.

Eddie types away behind him, sending a message before putting the phone on the bed, face down. “Just about how it’s nice to be back is all.”

Buck doesn’t say anything as Eddie resumes the massage. Only grunting and trying to muffle any moans as he wonders if there’s a particular reason why he’s so good at this.

He wants to ask, opening his mouth to say, “Eddie,” only for his name to turn into a breathy moan as the knot fully releases. Eddie’s fingers falter on his neck, gripping hard for a moment before pulling back.

“Bathroom,” Eddie says suddenly, grabbing his phone and clambering off the bed.

Buck turns to watch him leave, getting distracted by the fact that his neck doesn’t protest as he starts to roll his head around experimentally. He wonders if this is something he can request from Eddie more often.

He stands up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, remembering something he read about hydrating after massages to clear the body of toxins released, opening Eddie’s door, and finding the bathroom door cracked open. He’s about to pass it when he hears Eddie mumbling to himself, “Get it together.” Buck cautiously peers into the small opening, catching a glimpse of Eddie staring at himself in the mirror, fingers gripping the edge of the porcelain sink as he shakes his head and says, “I can’t believe I’m in love with a Buckley.”

It's a miracle Buck doesn’t pass out on the spot.

He takes a stumbling step back into Eddie’s room, somehow managing to close the door quietly in his haze. Although it’s entirely possible that he just slammed it because he can’t hear anything over the whooshing in his ears.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

Eddie is in love with Maddie.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Buck must have heard Eddie wrong.

Maybe he said something like “I can’t believe I live with a Buckley.”

But Buck knows Eddie. He’s always been able to figure out what he’s saying, whether it’s under his breath on a ride to a call or stuttered through a mouthful of Buck’s lasagna.

And when he came back into the room with a glass of water for Buck, he had put his phone on the nightstand face down again. The only other time he had done that around Buck was right before Kim blew up their lives.

This isn’t a Kim situation, though. Eddie isn’t self-destructive enough to do that so soon after getting Chris back.

…Right?

Plus, Buck knows Maddie. She would never do anything to risk the happiness of the family she’s built with Chimney. Even if that means never being with Eddie.

Buck’s not sure if he could be as strong as Maddie, considering it’s Eddie - he would set his entire world on fire for him.

My god. What if it runs in the Buckley genes?

“Buck,” Eddie whispers in the darkness.

Buck pretends to be asleep.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

He tries a little harder.

Eddie sighs. The bed shifts, and Buck can practically feel Eddie’s gaze on him. “Throw in some snores and you might be convincing.”

Finally, Buck cracks an eye open and squints at him in the darkness. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he catches the exasperated amusement in Eddie’s gaze. “I’m awake,” Buck begrudgingly whispers.

“I’m shocked,” Eddie jokes. Buck opens both eyes to glare at him.

A silence settles between them as they stare at each other. Buck eventually shifts onto his side, mirroring Eddie’s position. “Can’t sleep?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not with you thinking so loud.”

Buck tries to shift the topic away from Eddie's inevitable question. “I read a study about telepathic abilities. They used an MRI to study the brain of a person who claimed to be telepathic versus someone who didn’t have the ability while they both tried to do a telepathic task.”

“And?”

“The telepathic person’s brain lit up on the right side, and the other person's brain lit up on the left side. I’ll have to show you the article sometime.”

Eddie hums. “I’d like that. Chris would probably think it was cool, too.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie reaches out to smooth the creases on the comforter between them. “So, why were you lighting up the right side of my brain so much?”

There's the question. “You think you have telepathic abilities?”

Eddie smiles the way he does whenever he thinks Buck says something outlandish. “I think I have the ability to tell whenever my best friend isn’t able to sleep because he’s thinking too hard.”

Buck looks down at the creases between them, taking his turn to smooth them out. Eddie’s hand reaches out and settles over his, stopping the anxious movement.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks quietly.

Honestly, Buck doesn’t know. He was okay before his revelation – beyond okay, really. And now?

It’s not like he can say, I’m spiraling because I heard you say you’re in love with my sister. And the only person he rants to about Eddie stuff is Maddie which he clearly can’t do now. So, he settles on saying the closest thing to the truth that he can, “I’m happy everyone is back and things are going back to normal. It’s just…” he trails of with a sigh, moving to lay on his back which means regretfully pulling his hand out from under Eddie’s. “I’m scared I might lose someone or everyone, and I don’t know if I can handle anyone else leaving again.”

The bed shifts as Eddie turns to stare at the ceiling, clasping his hands together over his stomach. A few moments pass before Eddie whispers, “I’m sorry for leaving you.”

The words are an arrow straight through Buck’s heart. “Eddie, you… you didn’t leave me.”

“I did, Buck. And I know it was the right thing to do for Christopher, but–”

“There’s no ‘buts’ about it,” Buck easily cuts him off. “You’re right. It was the right thing to do for Christopher, and he will always come first. I would watch you leave a hundred times more if it means you were doing what’s right for him.”

“Buck…” Eddie’s voice sounds watery, but Buck ignores it.

“Plus, it’s not like you abandoned me. We Facetimed and texted more than I’ve done with anyone else in my life, including Abby after she first left for Europe.”

Abby’s name makes Eddie groan, his arms uncrossing with a sigh, causing his hand to brush against where Buck’s is lying between them. He doesn’t move it. “It doesn’t take much to be a better person than Abby was.”

Buck turns his head to look at Eddie. “If it wasn’t for Abby, I would still be Buck one-point-oh.”

Eddie looks back at him, his gaze traveling over him. “Not after you met me.”

He doesn’t know what exactly Eddie means by that, but it makes his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” Buck asks, the darkness making him feel a little bolder as he presses the back of his hand against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s hand pushes back before shifting over Buck's slowly until their palms are pressing together. Buck holds his breath as Eddie’s fingers slowly intertwine with his. He squeezes his hand tightly as he answers, “Yeah.”

Everything from the day and night goes out the window as Buck’s mind zeroes in on the connecting point between him and Eddie. He thinks he might be dreaming.

“This okay?” Eddie says so quietly that Buck nearly doesn’t catch it.

He nods and squeezes his hand. “Yes.”

The silence between them is tense and drawn out. After a few minutes, he wonders if Eddie has fallen asleep until he breaks the silence. “No one else is going to leave, Buck. Especially not me.” He turns to look at him. "We're going to be okay."

A flash of Eddie at the sink comes back to Buck, filling him with a wave of fear. But maybe, just maybe, Buck heard him wrong. “We're going to be okay," Buck echoes.

“We are,” Eddie states with finality. After a moment, his thumb soothingly rubs over Buck’s a few times before stopping with a squeeze. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Neither of them let go.

[aveaveria]

Hi!! I looove your take on Dick, your writing is amazing. I was wondering if you have any fanfic recs for him 👉👈. I'm open to anything. Thanks a bunch 🥰

Thank you so much for the kind words, dear anon, 🥰 and sorry for the wait! I recommend checking out multiple fanfictions by these authors but I limited my recs to one per author. 😊 I hope the recs are to your taste—if not all, then some of them!

🪴Gen Dick Grayson Fic Recs

Little Suns by ScarlettSwordMoon

While Bruce was presumed dead, Dick adopted Damian. Now that Bruce has returned, the three of them struggle to adjust to the new status quo. AKA Five times Dick struggled with being a father and a son, and one time he got the balance right.

Little Suns is a wonderful exploration of Dick's time as Batman and relationship with Damian shortly before Bruce's return and after. Dick is immensely grateful for the added time he can spend with Bruce after all, but the patriarch being back means old and new problems return too.

The Dark Embrace by TheOakTreeGhost

It was four hours until the break of dawn, and while full moon was high in the sky, it’s silver gleam barely penetrated the inside of the edifice. Most of its windows were purposefully designed to keep the light out, after all. Careful not to let his footsteps echo, Batman walked past the entrance hall and the visitor center, then turned left to go to the west wing. A long, dust-encrusted corridor with tiled floors that had never lined-up properly extended before him, its cracks resembling veins from which dried up sprouts grew, and then, deprived of any nourishment, withered. Though now hollow of its utilitarian grandeur, the walls were still too tall yet too claustrophobic, their deteriorating blankness forging grotesque monsters out of peeling paint and grime. They watched him. Judged him. And they found him wanting. OR When the Batcomputer picks up on strange readings coming from the abandoned Gotham City Youth Center, Batman must go investigate.

I wish the Dark Embrace were a canon comic because it has everything that makes mystery stories great. It's a great detective story showing how Dick operates on his lonesome and then with an alternate universe Bruce at his side while they fight scary monsters!

Behind Every Mask (There Is a Path to a Heart) by NyxKvistad

Gordon promised himself he wouldn't accept the kid as part of the team. It's a promise he didn't think he would have to break. Robin, Richard, Dick, that kid changed his mind, just like he changed Bruce's life.

Fics about Dick's early crime fighting career have their very own charm. Behind Every Mask explores very sweetly and humorously the way not only Bruce and Dick but also Jim and Dick grow together during nightly rooftop meetings.

Obfuscated by A Mess (ErebosBlue)

Cass, still being new to the family, is confused by Dick Grayson. He does not make it better when he talks with her, but he does pique her interest in ways that not many are able to. Because Dick is hard to read and yet so easy to trust. To get behind. - Dick Grayson Week: Dick’s Undervalued Competency

A wonderful character study of Dick as the seasoned crime fighter and big brother of the Bat Clan by Cass Cain herself.

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot by J.T.

Damian has a bit too much to drink at the New Year’s party, and he decides it’s an opportune time to discuss important matters with Grayson and Father.

Gala fics and this trio just give me nostalgia. It's a wonderful feeling to read fics like these. They are my favorite non-nuclear family trio.

The Rule Stands by Engineered

“I know what you’re going to say, Batman,” Damian said, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. “You’re going to tell me that Nightwing is dead, and that people don’t come back from the dead. Well, clearly you are wrong, seeing that you were dead and I was dead and Red Hood was dead and even Superman was once dead-” “My parents are dead,” Father interrupted. “Nightwing’s parents are dead. There have been a few notable exceptions in extenuating circumstances, Robin, but the rule stands. Everyone can die.” OR Damian meets a 10-year-old Dick Grayson, and they become best friends.

The Rule Stands shows why Dick Grayson will always have a special place in Damian's heart. Their relationship in this is very rooted in canon while also introducing a time travel twist, which gives Damian an opportunity to bond with little Grayson and shows the contrast to how much he loves adult Grayson as a big brother, friend and parent.

🛳️ Ship and Ship-Gen Dick Grayson Recs

Hanging Work by Lucy Gillam (cereta)

Bruce/Dick Two tickets to a circus never used, a little boy forgotten, and a chance meeting. Of such things are legends made.

One of the classics. Any Bruce/Dick reader must at least know of its existance. If you enjoy Different Mentor AUs, definitely read Lucy's series. This is Selina raising Dick.

Stars and Cinders by victoriousscarf

Dick-centric with a side of Slade/Dick and Jason/Dick Bruce Wayne makes a really awful Jedi. His padawans are not much better. That Batman Star Wars AU no one asked for.

Maybe no one asked for this but it remains THE Star Wars/Batman fic. It's a very satisfying crossover world that victoriousscarf built.

An Arm Full of Feelings by Sophie

Dick gets shot and has to be brought to Superman's Fortress to heal. He meets a tentacle alien that he befriends, and also possibly sort of starts dating. No one really approves much.

I approve, though. A lot. This is the sweetest tentacle sex Dick has ever gotten and will ever get. Just be mindful that it is underage.

Territory by TooFazed

Thomas Sr./Dick with a side of Bruce/Dick Thomas blames it on Bruce. A little at least. Because Bruce said son, not sons.

Flashpoint Thomas Wayne comes in contact with the mainline, most importantly Dick, meaning he therefore doesn't mess everything up. A BDSM exploration of Dick's mental state.

Naked As We Came by klose

Bruce/Dick "As it happens," he says, letting humour crinkle his eyes as his gaze flickers towards the other end of the table -- "I believe Dick would make a fantastic trophy wife." Fix-it for for this headcanon: "Bruce secretly longs to marry Dick, but after joking with him about it for so long he’s afraid Dick will say no. He can’t take the thought of that rejection and so he keeps the ring in his back pocket. It’s his father’s."

I devoure Klose's fics when I first came here, and she had banger opinions on Timblr too. She captures the romantic Bruce is, especially when it's about Dick, really well. And they are pining, your honor. Pining. Bruce and Dick are a married couple and chickens about it anyway.

He Shouldn't Have Interfered by WorldsUnreal

How Clark found out about Bruce and Dick. Or rather, how Clark mistook their completely appropriate feelings for something else and then it turns out he had been right all along.

One of the first DC fics I ever read and the first multi-chapter I followed on AO3. Clark being wrong but totally right is hilarious. I think other characters recognizing Bruce and Dick's mind boggling fated love is always delicious to read.

Klarion’s Curse by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly

Slade hunted the wrong witch, and gets an interesting curse.

Klarion's curse made me ship Slade & Dick, and it is a blast full with pre-N52 canon. Additionally, the fic has a unique Slade and Dick dynamic I haven't seen in fandom much to this date. Dinah is a fun and refreshing support character.

When I read these first fics the DCU was like a strange new world I stumbled into. These fics and many others are the reasons I learned to love the DCU. Don't forget to check out the referenced comics too. You will enjoy them. Trust. 💚

[moth-murdock]

I want her to know (he don't have it all)

A/n: sorry it took so long to get this out 🫣

Genre: fluff

Summary: his reaction!

Warnings: none

Other tags: Max mentioned again :D

Word count: 1.7K

My masterlist | Series masterlist

"I'm... I'm pregnant, Frank."

He freezes. The silence is deafening. But he hasn't let you go, so that must be a good sign, right?

"You serious?" He asks as he pulls back, his tone carefully neutral

You nod, holding out the positive test in your hands

"This is the third one I've taken..." You mumble nervously, still unsure of his reaction

He takes the test from you, staring at the two pink lines. There are many things that flash through his eyes, and you can tell he's at least worried, if not upset. He can't help but remember when Maria told him she was pregnant, and all the joy her and their kids brought him. And of course, the mourning and loss of all three of them.

You swallow hard, still feeling a greasy cocktail of nervous, anxious, uneasy, and scared. You go to open your mouth to speak, he doesn't give you the chance before he's pulling you into another, tighter hug. He buried your face in his chest, which you take as a bad sign.

You start to cry again, and he doesn't notice until he feels your tears soaking his shirt and your shoulders shaking with your shuddering breaths. He quickly pulls away, seeing the tears (and the bit of snot) running down your face.

"Woah, hey, whyre you cryin?"

"You're-... Gonna-... Leave me-..." You hiccup between breaths

"Who said anything about that? I'm stayin, baby. I'm not goin anywhere."

"Y-youre not?"

"Not a damn chance."

You cry even harder, now for a much better reason. He just shakes his head and holds you close again, his broad hands running up and down your back to soothe you.

After crying for a sufficiently miserable amount of time, you finally pull back from Frank's (milkers) chest to grab a tissue to blow your nose with, and he just smiles softly at how miserable you were for no reason. Before either of you can say anything, his stomach growls loudly.

"Nuff said, I think." He chuckles, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before reaching for the pizza box.

"Yeah... Sounds like something's trying to claw its way out of you..." You laugh

He opens the pizza box and pauses when he sees what's inside. You ordered his favorite pizza. The exact way he likes it.

"Woman, I'm gonna marry you all over again" he murmurs before grabbing a slice, letting out a pleased groan when he bites into it

"Yeah... Figured you'd appreciate that no matter your reaction..." You explain

"Even if I was mad, which I'm not, I wouldn't be anymore with this."

"Well, Bruce Springsteen isn't touring, so this is the next best thing I could think of..."

The smile he gives at that is... Soft. Sad, almost. You immediately think you fucked up, and he can tell by the way you tense up again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"All good. You didn't do nothin wrong."

You think for a moment how to word the question in your head, but he swallows his pizza and responds. He sits you down, and he tells you about how Maria bought them tickets while he was deployed. You nod along while eating the pizza, appreciating that he trusts you enough to tell you all of this. You feel overwhelming love for him and how despite being a man of few words, he clearly loves so deeply by how he tells a few more stories about Maria and the kids to you. And in your heart and your whole being, you know.

You are going to be the happiest little family.

***

And God damn it, you are. Whenever you're stressed about literally anything, Frank is there to help you. He was with Maria while she was pregnant, so he knows a few things. But that's not to say he isn't reading every article and book and shred of help and information.

You're about 12 weeks along now, and you both love and hate it. Sure, you're nauseous and your boobs are sore, but your baby is growing and both Frank and Max can't get enough of your little bump. Max can definitely tell that you're pregnant, as he's become very protective of you. Because if you ask Max, Frank is apparently too weak to protect you from the water monster in the shower. Or the unknown evil in that one specific throw pillow.

And Frank? Well, if you thought he was cuddly before, that was nothing. He always has a hand on your stomach. Loves to hear any update at all about the baby. He won't let you lift a finger. And if you two are disagreeing on something, he will definitely pull the experience card.

"Sorry, who's the one who's had two kids already? Yeah, thought so. It's not a good idea."

"Frank, I just want to sleep face down. The baby is the size of a lime, I don't think I'll hurt them."

"Don't risk it, sweetheart. You never know."

"Are you gonna make me Google this right now?"

"Two kids, doll. Two of em."

"And I quote, 'it is generally safe to sleep on your stomach during the first trimester of pregnancy, up to about 12 weeks'. See?"

"Nuh uh, you're at 12."

"Which means I can still sleep on my stomach this week."

After some deliberation, he finally gives as long as you promise that you won't sleep on your stomach past this week. You're just happy to sleep comfortably one last time.

Frank is such a loving husband that you almost forget that he's the Punisher. But there are a few reminders, especially when he cleans his guns every so often. He has this face when he does it, like he's angry. And honestly? You can't help but think youre in trouble or something. Once his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so tight, he puts it all down and takes a step back. He has to remind himself that he's not going out. He's just doing maintenance. So he asks you to sit with him. Because nothing calms him down like you do.

You ask him questions in a soft voice as he works, and that also helps ground him.

"What kind of gun is that?"

"What's that piece called?"

"That one looks brand new, have you even used it?"

You sit with him at the table for a while, and you can just tell that this is bringing up memories. Memories of Maria, memories of the kids. You can tell because he stopped answering your questions, his eyes stormy and troubled as he loses himself in his thoughts again. And when his eyes flick over to you, you know you're both thinking the same unfortunate thought.

What if it happens again?

You hold each other's gaze for a moment before you reach over and place your hand over his. He turns his palm up, entwining his fingers with yours before bringing the back of your hand to his lips. His beard and mustache prickle at your skin, and he mumbles against your soft skin

"I love you."

***

You kiss Frank goodbye for work despite his protests that you need to go back to sleep and rest for the baby.

"I'm up anyway, just let me do this..."

"You both need to go back to bed."

"We'll be fine. Can I please kiss my husband goodbye now?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically but leans in anyway. He tastes like mint, and you taste like you haven't brushed your teeth yet. He doesn't say anything. He gives Max a few pats on his way out, closing the door softly. You go back to bed, since it is still really early. And you have work later, so extra sleep is appreciated.

You go about your usual routine, but right as you're about to leave, you get a call from one of Frank's coworkers. Some kid that Frank gets along with for whatever reason.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mrs. Castiglione?"

"I've told you not to call me that," you chuckle "makes me feel old."

"Right, sorry. Um, I just wanted to call to ask you about Pete?"

"Is he in a mood?"

"That... Is a good question. He uh... He didn't show up today and I was just worried, y'know? Not like him to disappear."

He's technically right. Pete Castiglione isn't the type of person to disappear. But Frank Castle is.

"Oh, I see..." You sigh, knowing that you can't make an excuse this time because you already confirmed that he left the house

"I don't know where he is, but I'll tell him your worried, okay?"

"Yeah, just let him know he's missed on the team today. Maybe that'll help him feel better about whatever's going on with him."

"Will do. Have a good day."

"You too, ma'am." He teases

"That's even worse!" You laugh before he hangs up.

Your laughter barely lasts a second longer after hearing the tone indicating the call has ended, and you immediately call Frank.

Straight to voicemail.

Okay, you think. Maybe he's just taking a day for himself or something. It'll be fine.

So you go to work, get your hours in, come back home. Frank is still gone. Okay. You take Max out for a walk and come back. Still not gone. All good. You take Max into the bathroom and painstakingly give him a bath while you still can. And when you come out?

Frank is still gone.

Maybe he's taking the weekend off?

But he would've told you.

Maybe he needed to go get something in a place that doesn't have service?

Everywhere has service, you guys have a very good phone plan.

The only thing left that you haven't done is to go to the safehouse. It's the only place he would be when he goes radio silent.

You make the drive to the safehouse, opening the door with the key Frank gave you. There's clear signs that he's been here, and very recently too. But he's not here. So you go over your options. Do you wait for him so you can talk to him? Or do you go home since he obviously needs some time away from you for whatever reason?

You wait. You wait for hours. You know he knows you're here, But he doesn't show. So you take the hint and go back home. You have no idea what's going on, but you trust Frank's judgement. You wouldn't have married him otherwise.

[steamworksfairy]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY VERDE!!! 🎂🥳🎉

This year writing wasn’t sticking so I decided to do a quick doodle. Of course that turned into this masterpiece. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of something I drew. I’m definitely growing as an artist. And becoming addicted to using watercolors. I tried to color it with my usual go-to’s but those were falling flat. From now on I’m a watercolor girlie. 

A few birthday headcanons for Verde + vague references to ocs under the cut <3

He hates his birthday. It always distracts from his research since everyone in the lab insists that they all have to stop what they’re doing, whip out a cake from the kitchen that Verde was no-so-subtly banned from entering, and then sing horribly out of tune before making him blow out the candles. 

Despite the obnoxious customs, Verde does appreciate that his lab thinks of him. He never really thought of himself as having friends but before he knew it he ended up with more than he knows what to do with.

Koenig, with a grumpy Innocenti, always comes barging in with yet another cake, cookies, and a present. 

The present is usually always research of some sort that he thinks Verde would enjoy. This is how Verde got his hands on Gepetto’s blueprints. 

- Innocenti absolutely hates being out of his lab, but despite his cold exterior he still gave Verde a card with some cash inside. It may seem impersonal but I promise the check was enough to fund an experiment. 

- Being realistic here, I really don’t think the Arcobaleno give him birthday wishes of any kind on his birthday. He never told them when he was born and it never really came up in conversation either. 

- His lab only knows his birthday because they searched for it. He had it locked up tight on his computer, but with a group effort and Verde taking pity on them to weaken the file’s defenses, they were able to hack in and learn the date. (This was also thanks to Verde’s close friend, an old oc I have named Cyril, who helped to convince him to do that via pointing out how hard these people were working for him just to learn a silly little date.)

- His ideal way to spend his birthday would be to work alone in his lab on an experiment 

-He’s now suffers once a year from surprise parties 

-His favorite cake is strawberry shortcake

-For some reason people keep giving him strawberry themed items and gift wrap. Every time he sees this, he gets war flashbacks to Fran’s fruity time gag and wonders with dread…do they know?

-His least favorite cake is chocolate. He doesn’t like the texture

-Meal wise, anything is fine with him but if pressed for a choice he’d choose pizza since it’s a staple party food. 

-He will however delight in an ice-cold cola and maybe some wine later.

- If made to swing at a pinata he will put together a robot for it instead. Why violently bludgeon something when an invention can do it for him? 

-He will be forced into karaoke. Can he sing? I’m not at liberty to discuss that. It breaches lab safety regulations. Don’t ask, you don’t want to know. 

-Verde is forced to be part of a group photo with everyone in his lab. While he isn't the sentimental type, he might have a scrapbook started.

-The party ends up becoming a sleepover and everyone takes out sleeping bags to camp out together in the common room. It's one of the few nights a year that Verde gets a good night’s sleep.

-Experiments with everyone involved defiantly do not happened on this night. No world ending monsters of any kind have accidentally gotten created. Especially not under the influence of alcohol. However, if you think you've spotted something that you believe is related to Lorenzini Labs, it is suggested that you call immediately so that we can investigate it thoroughly. While what you probably saw was swamp gas, we take these kinds of things seriously and won't hesitate to answer any questions or concerns you may have.

-They accidentally create a ton of terrible monstrosities while drunk. Some have reached apocalyptic levels of concern but are swiftly taken care and swept under the rug.

And that's it folks. Happy Birthday to my favorite khr character ever! Without him I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have with my art, nor would I have met all the amazing people I know in this fandom. Happy to be here and happy to celebrate yet another year of Verde. One way or another I will always find a way to do something for him <3

[anartisicandautisticstararcher]

Since we're talking about our AU versions of Eri, I wanted to add in my own version of Eri. It will have spoilers for Rewritten Sparks, and I might ramble a bit at first, so keep that in mind.

For those reading who don't know, I'm a sucker for the Henshin/Magical Girl genre. Heck, I grew up with the Power Rangers.

One of my favorite Henshin tropes is The Sixth Ranger/Member, where a new member joins the established cast. Sometimes, this trope involves the new member being a child that ages up when transformed. You see where I'm going with this?

Eri will end up being the "Sixth Ranger" of the Peacemakers, but not in the way you would expect.

Rewritten Sparks!Eri/The Time Princess Hero: Snow White

I'm not going into full detail on Eri's role in Rewritten Sparks (or maybe I will depend on how I write this), but I will share how she becomes Snow White.

Sometime after UA's Culture Festival, Eri regains her memories of the original series. She only remembers up to when Aizawa trained her on how to use her quirk to help Mirio. She tries to help Mirio again, but Stryxxxer, for some reason, is insistent on not letting her do that and wants her to have a normal life.

One night, after Stryxxxer reads Snow White to her, Eri asks him why he doesn't want her to help them fight villains?

"You're too young. Maybe when you're older, but for right now...I want to give you the life that was stolen from you. You shouldn't have to feel like you owe us or Mirio anything."

"But Mr. Aizawa, I-!"

"It's Mr. Tafoya now, Eri. I'm not like my past self. I'm not going to put you in harms way again. I'll help you so you won't lose control quirk, but outside of that...Mirio will have to go without his quirk this time. I'm sorry."

This still confuses Eri, as he didn't have any problems training her the last time. Why did Stryxxxer suddenly change his mind? It wasn't fair. She wished she could grow up to be a hero like Deku.

Weeks later, news of a new heroine spreads around. There's no records of her. When reporters get the chance to ask, she explains it's because she's from the future, so her name isn't in the hero register yet.

"Can we at least get a name for you?"

"Just call me the Time Princess Hero: Snow White."

"Snow White?"

"She was my favorite fairytale character growing up. My dad always read it to me."

(This is a placeholder until I work on an official design.)

So I was thinking about that anon ask about Eri and the more I ponder it, the more I kind of vibe with villain(ish)!Eri.

Imagine an Eri who wasn't mistreated by Overhaul. Whose life improved once she was taken in by her grandfather. She gets everything she wants and is spoiled rotten by both her grandfather and Chisaki. Maybe she buys into Overhaul's ideals, it was her quirk that killed her father and made her mother resent her, after all. She's manipulated into helping him instead of being outright forced, rewarded with his affection.

(Chisaki tells her that her grandfather is sick, and she believes him without question)

Then Izuku, Mirio, and the heroes come and ruin it all. She doesn't want their help, but they defeat Overhaul and she's given to UA. And she hates it there. She tries to run away, acts out, and pitches a fit every chance she gets. She warms up to Izuku and Mirio because they take the time to get to know her, value her opinion, and don't try to police her behavior. But she absolutely hates being in Aizawa's custody, especially because he can shut off her quirk. She constantly tests Aizawa's patience.

She wants to go home and be with her "Papa" and "Uncle Kai." But then learns that Chisaki hurt her grandfather because he protested against using her for his experiments. And it changes her entire outlook. How could her beloved uncle hurt her grandfather? Kai would never hurt family, he always said that!

Now Eri isn't just angry, she's devastated. She's sad and confused and in pain in a way she doesn't understand. She becomes so subdued that UA (in their infinite wisdom) stop watching her as closely. Big mistake. She runs off, and this time no one's there to stop her.

Only to get picked up by the MLA. They've been watching her since she was taken in by the Yakuza, but they aren't exactly sure what her quirk is. All they know is that it's powerful and want to use it to their advantage. So they try to interrogate her to no avail (Eri, as the granddaughter of a Yakuza boss, has seen real interrogations and is thoroughly unimpressed). They try to coerce her into joining them willingly, which triggers a mental breakdown because it's so similar to how Kai convinced her to help him.

Everyone only wants her for her power. Everyone except-

Izuku and Mirio (without a quirk like a boss) rescue her and it's here that they earn her admiration and adoration. Because she treated them horribly, but they still saved her. They still cared for her. Not for her power, but because she was important to them.

I like Eri in canon fine, but I won't refute that she's one-dimensional. I think something like this would have been really interesting. It not only makes her more layered as a character, it also drives home that every kid is worth saving, not only the sweet, innocent victims. Very good chance for parallels with the LOV.

(But I'm actually glad Horikoshi didn't do this. Girls in anime with complexity aren't treated well, just look at Gabi. Eri would have gotten a lot of hate for being "annoying" or whatever)

I'm thinking of incorporating it into the rewrite somehow.

[markkiatocafe]

for the writing event could u please do yushi with scientist 🥹

scientist

a short story with yushi of nct wish

⚛︎ warnings: slight teasing, silly oblivious yushi, other than that pure fluff!!!!!

⚛︎ synop: you thought that by now, your pining would be obvious to your best friend. but apparently, he needs to be a professional to pick up on your signs 🤔

⚛︎ pairing: gn!reader x bestfriend!yushi

⚛︎ w.c: 513

⚛︎ a/n: i rlly hope this is ok…. it maybe ooc so im so so sorry if it is!!!! pls be kind if you have feedback or criticism >< i hope you all enjoy tho :3 i also got a teeny bit carried away with this one…. woopsies…. sometimes i need to stop letting the words carry me instead of my own brain

you were having a movie night with yushi. rewatching a series that brought a lot of comfort and nostalgia to the both of you, harry potter, was always a good way to just unwind after a long stressful week. you had been friends for a while now, at least a few years, so hangouts like this weren’t uncommon. giggles, childishly made pillow forts, popcorn, and fun. well, over all these years, it seems like there has been an advancement in how you felt about yushi.

maybe it was the way he relentlessly teased you, maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. whatever it was, something had made you fall for yushi. and especially over this last year, you’ve been trying your hardest to give him signs, yet, apparently, the lingering touches and suspiciously-sweet compliments didn’t convince him.

“you know, yushi,” you spoke up, your voice muffled by the popcorn in your mouth, tone soft but holding a hint mischief, the sound of the movie still playing in the background. “you act like you’re all high-and-mighty, but you’re pretty oblivious to simple things.” you stated, your voice casual but teasing.

he raised an eyebrow, looking over at you and taking a piece of popcorn out of the bowl in between you two, eating it and swallowing before replying. “what do you mean?”

you let out a soft giggle, tilting your head and humming. “well, for example, yesterday. remember when i told you i got you your favorite perfume because i remembered you liked it?” 

“yeah…?” he replied.

“do you remember the time i got you an exo album the day after you told me you liked them...?” you asked, drawing out your voice more in hopes of getting the idea into his head.

he nodded, smiling softly as his eyebrows knot together, confused still but intrigued. “yeah, that was really sweet of you. why does that make me oblivious though?“

you giggled, rolling your eyes and looking back to the tv. “i think it would be pretty obvious by now that i like you, no? i mean… yeah, friends can do that, but i even called you cute before, and you didn’t even think twice about that???”

his eyes widened at your sudden confession. “woah, woah, woah… that was, like, a passing comment. i didn’t think you meant it in… that way, you can’t blame me for that.”

you shrugged, looking back over at him, the look in your eyes growing more tender by the second. “fair. i’m guessing that means you don’t like me back though, with how you didn’t even mention that?” you inquired, not mad or bitter, but you couldn’t deny there was a little sting in your heart.

“hey,” he furrowed his eyebrows, “i never said that! don’t go putting words in my mouth… i actually like you, too.” he said, his voice quieting down a bit.

the sting fluttered into a warmth, a warmer smile falling on your lips. “well, i guess that’s one thing we both agree on then, huh?” 

[fluentmoviequoter]

1) I’m sorry if I’m spamming you with requests.

2) Take all your time and no rush. We all have lives outside of tumblr

Please Tim Bradford x fem!Cybertronian!shy!reader? What if…….it’s a motorcycle? 👀 like Lucy is curious and ask Tim how shy!reader drives around the city/town/country without Tim driving the motorcycle or being caught, meaning like a motorcycle driving itself, you know what I mean? Before Tim answered, they saw shy!reader transform into alt mode and her hologram appears, saying like “I’m locked and loaded“ https://youtu.be/PEoALXWHuIE?si=0-dNxtFSOu7TRWSL

Locked and Loaded

0.8k+ words of Cybertronian!reader fluff

Lucy slows in TIm’s driveway. The case file is in her bag, ready to be analyzed and prepared. Tim’s truck is in its usual spot, but she had expected to see another vehicle parked beside it.

“What are you doing here?” TIm asks, pulling the door open.

“You said we could go over the case, prep for the UC sting,” Lucy reminds him, pushing past him to enter his home.

“I meant at work in the morning,” he argues as he closes the door.

Lucy looks around the empty house, Kojo sleeping on his bed, and the halftime report on ESPN. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Because you’re so busy right now.”

Tim shakes his head as he follows her to the table. He checks his phone, opening a tracker app once before he gives Lucy his attention.

When Tim opens the door to walk Lucy out, she gasps.

“What?” he inquires flatly, failing to see anything worthy of her excitement.

She walks down his walkway, then stops beside the driveway. An iridescent black motorcycle that changes color with lights and angles is now parked beside Tim’s truck. Lucy knows about Tim’s involvement with the so-called Autobot, but she’s grown curious about the specifics since she had to drive Tim after his new motorcycle abandoned him to fight something called a Decepticon.

“What’s it like to ride a sentient vehicle, Tim?” Lucy wonders, walking around the bike slowly.

Tim begins to answer, but you rev your engine and interrupt him. Lucy steps back, but you don’t move. Shaking his head, Tim opens the compartment beneath the seat and withdraws two helmets. He passes one to Lucy and complains under his breath as she begins rambling about how excited she is. 

Tim mounts the bike first, resting his hands on the handlebar and his foot over the clutch without actually touching any of the controls. Lucy throws her leg over and slides on behind him. When her arms are around his waist, they’re seated properly, and their helmets are undoubtedly secure, you turn around slowly in Tim’s driveway. You follow every earthly road law as you drive out of the city, but the moment you hit the open road in the desert, you give Tim the ride you know he enjoys and the one you suspect Lucy wants.

She loosens her grip on Tim, leaning up into the wind as she laughs excitedly. The sky grows darker as they leave Los Angeles behind, and Lucy decides that she’s never felt so free. Beneath her, you shift to turn, taking your new human friends to your favorite place on earth.

In a large clearing, the sky above you clear and star-filled, you stop. Tim offers his hand to Lucy as she dismounts, and then he places their helmets on the ground so you can transform. 

You tower above Lucy, and she stares up at you in awe until you point to a small dark spot between two red stars.

“That is where my home is,” you say. “Or would be.”

“What happened?” Lucy asks, breathless from the view.

“There was a war. We were stranded amongst the stars before we found our way here. We’re not sure if there’s a way home, or a home to return to.”

“That’s so sad.”

“They’re still fighting,” Tim adds, watching you.

“Right,” you agree, avoiding looking at him. “The war is far from over, even lightyears from where it began. When - or if - the war concludes, and we save all the lives we can, we will try to go home.”

“Maybe not too fast,” Tim says.

Lucy’s brows pinch at his flirtatious comment, but when she notices how you shift, your heavy pedes kicking up dust, she understands. Tim pushes you a little because he knows it affects you. She’s been there, she thinks, but there’s something different about the look in his eyes when he does it to you.

“So,” she begins, turning toward TIm. “How can she drive around LA without getting caught? She doesn’t have a rider, and I haven’t seen any AI-driven cycles recently.”

Lucy hears your metal shift before Tim gestures toward you. When she turns, you snap your final piece into place, transformed into your alt mode. Then, a hologram of a female rider appears, her helmet moving in the shadows as she nods.

“I’m locked and loaded,” you say, revving the engine.

“Whoa!” Lucy exclaims, leaning closer. “That is incredible!”

Tim smiles, and the hologram shifts briefly before you decide to focus on Lucy instead.

“Hey, is the hologram a rider only?” Tim asks.

“Tim, are you asking out a hologram?” Lucy inquires incredulously.

“Yeah, I’m an alien robot, and even I think that’s weird,” you answer, using your hologram to send a thumbs up to him.

“Forget I asked,” he grumbles, content to watch you with Lucy.

“For a while,” you reply.