#but I still refuse to believe this is really happening

[ivymarquis]

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him. 

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her. 

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[obeymematches]

Hello~! Can I request a headcanon for an Mc that can’t sleep alone? Like they feel much safer sleeping next to someone. Thank you so much and take as much time as you need~! ☺️

ohhh i know how you feel, i also prefer sleeping with someone 💓 thank you for sending in a request & inspiring me, i had fun writing this💫

💤Sleeping together💤

Lucifer:

He is awake when you go over to his room. He didn't have intentions to sleep yet but he wants what is best for you. It is your secret mission to get him to do what is best for him. He gets addicted to sleeping with you also. Even if he has evening plans with Diavolo / he seriously has to work late he insists you stay in his room & he joins when he can.

Nothing could make me more at ease than feeling you sleep by my side.

Mammon:

Guess what MC he can't sleep without you either!! Whew good thing you two are on the same page!! He must hold you with his arms AND his legs to fall asleep. After that he'll toss and turn though. Gets super sad if you tell him no sleeping together tonight. He would never do this to you!! 😩

Are ya comfy MC? Wanna stroke my hair? Just a little?

Leviathan:

Quickly becomes addicted to your warmth surrounding him through the night. Never let go pls. You are a very good influence on his sleep schedule! Doesn't get as clingy as Mammon but damn he is very close to that level. Must get a bigger blanket so you stop stealing it so easily!

There there MC! My only duty now is to keep you warm!

Satan:

Oh you won't get him to sleep when he doesn't want to so easily. He lets you sleep on his bed but he isn't in a rush to join you in dreamland; yes he does lay next to you but he is still busy reading! Loves to cuddle even though you might not remember much of it the next day. I think he doesn't complain if you sleep together often as long as you are not demanding it.

Nights with you are the most peaceful. Thank you  for being with me MC.

Asmodeus:

Gotcha! He suggests sleeping together before you do! Never ever complains if you want to spend the night! Free to cuddle any time of the day if you want to nap!

My dove, resting with you calms me down every night. You look cute when you are sound asleep, did you know?

Beelzebub:

Blushes at the suggestion of helping you sleep solely by being next to you. Very careful not to be too heavy for you! Would never dare to suggest it but gladly sleeps with you every night if that's what you wish!

MC.... I love you so much, being your pillow is my pleasure!

Belphie:

Honestly he doesn't mind if you randomly visit him through the night to sleep with him. If he likes you he is going to make sure you have the best sleep of your life and you become addicted to him quickly.

That's it MC, now close your eyes and take a rest. I'll be guarding your dreams.

Diavolo:

Ah his lonely ass is craving your company 0-24 so honestly he would never refuse sleeping together. Has to make sure he has the most comfortable beddings on! Please cuddle him like his life depends on it, he is going to devote himself pretty soon if you keep it going!

I can't believe I was missing out on this feeling... somehow your presence makes me feel safe. I don't understand how either.

Barbatos:

Hmmm I think he likes his independence but how could he refuse you? You can rarely sleep together though so he isn't going to be the best candidate for this request unfortunately :( If you do though it's going to make you view him in a very different light; he rarely lets anyone see hin so vulnerable!

On one condition, we can sleep together. No taking pictures, you can only close your eyes and sleep!

Solomon:

Ohhh a feeling he was longing for for so long... and now it happens every night. He probably doesn't go to sleep early though so he just joins when he is ready to sleep. It is his pleasure to cuddle you through the night!

I could really get used to this, MC. Shall we do this tomorrow as well?

Simeon:

Okay one step at a time! First just cuddling on the couch, then on the bed, only after that you might sleep together! Doesn't complain though and feels bad for making you wait so long. Loves to caress your back as you're cuddled up to his chest!

This feeling.... do you feel it too, MC? I never want this moment to end.

[odetojupiter]

so, we know that abuse and victim responses to abuse are very central to aftg, but what i find interesting is how other characters respond to the victim’s reactions, especially when it comes to mourning their abuser. there’s something about kevin mourning riko, aaron mourning tilda, neil mourning mary, andrew mourning cass, thats so important to me because it really truly highlights how even when people are united through similar traumas, the differences in their situations makes it impossible to fully understand the relationship a person has to their abuser. neil, aaron, and andrew are united through the abuse, neglect, or - what the fuck is the word i’m thinking of? permit? condone? i mean, knowingly allowing it to happen and not intervening - stemming from a maternal figure. but neil can’t understand why andrew would hold on to cass for so long - he refused to let her go until aaron came into the picture. and andrew can’t understand why aaron would mourn for tilda, potentially viewing aaron’s grief as a betrayal of their promise. and they all ridicule kevin for his reactions to riko. of course, neil and andrew are also abused by riko, but they still can’t understand the complicated relationship between kevin and riko because, at the end of the day, they just weren’t there.

i mean this is primarily an observation but i really love how trauma and trauma response is depicted as nuanced, complex and overall just difficult to understand from an outsider perspective in the books. it reads as really real, and though it can be frustrating when a character doesn’t understand a different character’s response, you have to understand that their perception of said character’s response is warped by their own experience of abuse.

andrew bounced from home to home, never had stability, so obviously he held tight on to the first mother-figure that didn’t outright hurt him. his self-worth was probably low enough that he thought living with drake was a fine price to pay to keep cass.

neil only ever had his mother, and he’d willingly accept her harsh hands because he believed she was just keeping him safe from the very real dangers that were closing in on them.

aaron was dealing with an addiction, and so was his mother; he was equally dependent on her to avoid withdrawal as he was scared of her anger.

i don’t really have a point anymore but you get what i’m saying

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

⋆⁺˚.ೃ࿔ °⋆ a warm welcome ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After living together in your humble apartment in Liyue Harbor, Childe decides to finally take you home...indefinitely—a shocking request you find you don't have much of a choice in adhering to. Though the situation is rocky, you cannot deny you love Childe, and though you're pissed, you work with this new life of yours. But when you're introduced to your new life and Childe's family, you find something's not quite right about the place he calls "home".

Childe x fem!reader II some fluff, some hurt

"I don't understand what you're asking of me.", you sat on the cushy couch you'd bought how many years ago for your small Liyue apartment. Sure, your abode was humble, but it was yours; the decorations were hand picked and placed by you, the kitchenware was bought by you—popular brands you trusted to use dependable materials. Hell, you'd even painted the whole place yourself! From the dark beige you'd initially moved into, to a softer, more classical version of your favorite color. That is why you could not believe your boyfriend was asking you to...to...

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you. I have orders to return to Snezhanaya, and you are coming with me."

You'd known Childe was pushy ever since you two first started dating: when you had initially rejected his advances in lieu of pursuing an independent life as a single woman in her youth. He took no for an answer, respecting your choice with a polite "I'm sorry to hear that.", but you'd be blind not to catch the confident and cheery grin he still wore on his face—like you'd said yes! His initial acceptance didn't stop him from butting into your life; he'd just happen to run into you on the busy streets of the harbor—like he hadn't been scoping out your usual errands and routes you'd take around the city, memorizing your schedule like it was his own. Once he'd catch you, he'd ask you to get dinner with him, platonically of course, and his treat too! You'd be a fool to turn down a free dinner at Liuli Pavillion. But dinner would turn into a nighttime stroll by the ocean, would turn into him walking you back home, would turn into you inviting him in for coffee and...

Eventually, him becoming your long-term boyfriend.

The feelings he shared with you were mutual; you'd be lying if you said he didn't have you smitten by the end of your first date. He was just so charming and attentive, sweet and generous, he made you laugh and went out of his way to make sure you were safe throughout the day. He wrote you letters like crazy when work called him away for extended periods, and you'd skip to your mailbox every morning knowing multiple pages of parchment marked up in his handwriting would be there to wish you a good day, tell you how much he missed your beautiful face and comforting touch, responding to your questions in your previous letters and asking you his own in return. It felt lovely to have him wait on you, to show you how much he really cared for you and how grateful he was to have you in his life.

You were never quite sure exactly what he did for work, him always dancing around the details and giving you a vague description of his duties. All you could really make out was that his job was strict with unpredictable hours that would often steal him away from you for days or even weeks. Normally, you wouldn't be too upset about going a couple days without seeing your boyfriend...if he didn't live with you. Now, when he didn't come home at the end of the day, or at the end of the week like he promised he would, you'd worry---and you'd miss him terribly.

After about a year of dating, he'd asked you to join him in his apartment for good, he even scheduled a moving date for you, but you refused—you just liked the home you had too much! So he moved into your place, which initially posed an issue with space, but he didn't have too many things to move in with him other than a duffel bag full of clothes. His lack of belongings raised questions that were quickly quelled by him stating he "kept his stuff at the office.".

Now you were kicking yourself, wishing you had asked more thorough questions and demanded answers from him as to what exactly he was always off doing, why he didn't want you to know which corporation he worked for or what goods or services they were involved with, how exactly he'd show up at home looking cleaner and more put together than when he left—like he'd cleaned up and changed before he left work. You felt like an idiot because now, when he'd finally revealed that he was not only a member of the Fatui, but a Harbinger working under the Tsaritsa of Snezhanaya—the Cryo Archon herself, he'd also revealed his plans to take you back home with him.

Plans that you were, understandably, wildly averse to.

Liyue was your home! You had a good job, good friends, a good routine! You worked hard to make a life for yourself here, and now, suddenly it was up to Childe to decide that you were going to uproot it?

That was not happening.

However, as you sat next to him on a massive passenger ship three fourths of the way through a journey to the frozen country perched at the very north of Teyvat, his warm gloved hand encompassing yours and fur-lined cloak thrown over the both of you while you were pressed up against his side, it hit you that it was, indeed, happening.

He was able to talk you into it with promises of, "It'll just be a few months.", "I just want you to meet my family; my little siblings will love you!", "I'll pay the rent for your place so it'll still be there when you come back to it!."

But there was no denying that you were, in fact, not coming back to it; which you'd finally deduced when Childe shut and locked the door to your now dark and bare apartment while his strikingly intimidating subordinates loaded the majority of your belongings onto a cargo ship. The ship was bound to meet you in your boyfriend's home country, ready to furnish your new cabin in Mosepok before your arrival. The realization sat like a pit in your stomach, only worsened by how Childe's planning ahead included your belongings in your new home being arranged for you and not by you; stealing away what little choices you had about this move in the first place.

Though this whole plan of his threw your life off kilter, filling you with anxiety about the future ahead of you, there was a certain comfort in how Childe squeezed your hand reassuringly and pressed kisses to your hair and cheeks.

"I promise it'll be alright…I just need to know you’re safe. And my family will take good care of you."

The thought of getting to spend quality time with the relatives of his you'd only known through written correspondence did fill you with a sort of excitement. Your cabin would be walking distance from theirs, meaning you'd get to share countless family dinners and lively visits with them—a luxury you had not known for a long time. And you were just dying to meet little Teucer, Tonia, and Antón. Childe talked about them nonstop, and they'd sent you a dozen messy scribbled drawings of you and them, though they'd never even met you! You felt lucky to enter a new life with so many people's arms open for you to fall into.

...however, where there is newfound beginnings and gain, there is change and loss, and you felt that loss deeply as you looked across the wild, dark sea---no longer able to see the shoreline of the place you once called home.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

The boat ride felt like it stretched on for eternity, nothing but the view of the open ocean or conversation with your boyfriend (if you could even still call him that by now, given your life was now fully intertwined with his) to entertain you. When the ride through the ferocious waters bobbing the boat up and down in fluid motion inevitably made you seasick, he let you nuzzle your face against his ribs and rubbed a soothing hand up and around your back to give you some relief. You fell asleep against him for the rest of the voyage, opening your eyes to already find yourself in bed—waking to the view of a pine wood ceiling illuminated by firelight.

You were unpleasantly surprised that you'd woken up alone; the adjacent side of the bed typically assigned to Childe, empty. Horror washed down your body at the thought that he'd already left you behind to return to work, before you turned your attention to the foot of your bed to find a pair of bright blue eyes peeping at you from the shadows. Before you could cry out in terror, the small figure excitedly climbed up onto the bed and threw it's arms around your tense torso in a tight embrace. You were too shocked to move as the little creature squeaked in delight and hugged you tight.

"Big sister! You're finally awake!"

You blinked the residual sleep out of your eyes as your bleary vision sharpened, finding that the vice wrapped around your stomach was actually a little boy; and upon further investigation, you found the little boy was an uncanny mini-me of your dear lover.

Your frightened expression melted into a warm smile, returning the little boy's hug.

"You must be Teucer, right?", you gathered from how he was the only one of his family that addressed you in the letters you received with "Big Sister".

The little boy pulled back with twinkling eyes, a bright crooked grin mirroring that of his older brother stretched across his face.

"You remembered!"

You nodded with a, "It's nice to meet you.", and before you could ask where his older brother was, the devil you'd fallen in love with opened the door to your room with a smirk on his face and let himself in. Two other teenier versions of himself followed behind him; no doubt Antón and Tonia.

These children were shier than the bundle of energy, Teucer, and hung back by the door to peek at you while their older brother flopped down next to you on the bed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

The display of affection drew various expressions of repulse from the kids; scrunching their noses and covering their eyes with performative gags and "ew"s—only serving to make their older brother chuckle.

Childe intertwined his hand with yours and brought it up to his lips, that near-overwhelming intensity of emotion he always held for you evident in his eyes that were now locked on yours making your cheeks flush with color. The dullness of his eyes that made them look so haunting grew to make your heart bubble whenever they landed on you; it was something so unique to him that was actually quite a handsome feature once you got used to it. Though, you often wondered if his eyes had always been like that, if their color simply faded with time, or if it was a specific event that killed the light in his eyes—an outcome you found yourself praying wasn't the case.

No matter how he obtained this feature, you loved it, just as you loved him.

His voice was smooth and unlabored when he asked, "How did you sleep, love?"

"Deeply, I suppose.", you said as you looked around the room, wondering how you'd managed to sleep not only through the rest of the boat ride but the sleigh ride to his family's cabin as well.

Childe nodded as he shifted his gaze to Teucer, grinning and ruffling his hair, "Apologies for the little spy.", making the boy giggle as Childe's eyes once again locked with yours, "He was bouncing off the walls waiting to meet you. Guess it's no surprise he snuck in."

You shook your head, smiling softly at him, "It was a wonderful way to wake."

Childe looked like he'd never received higher praise, putting a hand on the back of your head to draw your face forward and press a happy kiss to your forehead—reawakening the chorus of "yuck!" and "gross!".

He pulled back to gaze lovingly into your eyes, the deep color and heat behind his own once again making your heart sing, though your staring was broken by a soft knock on the doorframe.

"Hello?", the soft voice of an older woman called before she peered in, adding evidence to your suspicion that this family was full of warm smiles as she gazed at you adoringly. You had no idea a stranger could look at you with so much affection upon your first meeting. "Oh, good to see you're awake, dear.", she cooed, "Dinner's ready if you'd like to come to the table, but if you're weary I could always bring you a bowl. We're having beef stew to give you strength after your long trip."

For some reason, her use of the word "you" resonated somewhere in your mind. It was full of warmth and kindness...but it was singular to you---she was addressing you alone. Childe had made this journey too, and you supposed "you" could have included him in the statement...but she wasn't looking at him. In fact, this interaction could play out the same were he not here at all.

Your eyes drifted to your lover's face only to find his cheery expression virtually unchanged, though an unfamiliar pit sat in your stomach. But you shook off the uneasiness, supposing that she was just referring to you alone as a way of honoring you as a guest. Childe didn't seem bothered, and it was just a minor detail, so it was probably nothing.

...right?

"...We'll join you at the table. Would that be alright?", you said in a soft, polite tone.

Childe's mother only nodded with an affirming hum, before leaving the room without sparing her son a single glance; the children followed after her.

You were about to turn and ask Childe if everything was okay—maybe he'd gotten into a disagreement with her earlier in the night, but he beat you to it, cupping your jaw to bring your face close and press a firm, lingering kiss to your lips. It was so passionate, the force of it pushed you back slightly, to which he stabilized you by encircling his arm around your waist and dragging you back in.

When he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and flushed, your mind was spinning. What had you just been worrying about? You couldn't remember.

"You ready to eat?", he sang, the happiness in his voice so clearly present it felt...forced.

"...sure."

With that, he pulled you out of bed and brought you to your feet, taking care to stabilize you to ensure your exhaustion wouldn't overcome you and send you crumpling to the floor. Childe always handled you like glass, and for that, you were often grateful.

Once he was convinced you were fine to walk on your own, he took your arm in his and led you down the cabin's hall into the dining room.

As he tugged you along, you took care to look around, taking in Childe's home. The place was humble—not what you had expected of a cabin belonging to a harbinger's family to look like. It would take a measuring tape to confirm, but you were skeptical that Childe's apartment in Liyue might actually be bigger than this cabin in it's entirety. The house was constructed of a simple sanded pine, not a glossy, well-crafted redwood like you'd seen in pictures of the house Childe had purchased for you down the road. You wondered why, with their son's hefty income, they hadn't gotten an upgrade; perhaps the house was built by his father, or held special memories they didn't want to get rid of. Still, the dated appliances like the furnace in your room or worn rugs on the floor raised questions.

You knew Childe, and he was anything but neglectful of those he loved.

So the only reason you could surmise for the dated appliances was that they didn't want his support.

...maybe it was his parent's pride...maybe it was something else.

Your thoughts strayed when Childe sat you down at the table and the mouth-watering fragrance of his mother's stew invaded your senses---leaving you drooling. Your stomach growled loudly in anticipation, to which you shyly covered it with a hand. This drew a hearty laugh from your lover, placing his own hand over yours and kissing your head.

The children clamored over to the table; you noticed only the youngest three children were present, meaning Childe's older siblings were most likely off taking care of their own responsibilities in their adult lives. You were sure you'd meet them soon. The kids giggle amongst themselves and squeaked excitedly at you, overwhelming you with an avalanche of questions like: "Are you going to marry big brother?", "Can we come see your house?", "Can we sleep over all the time?", "Are you going to get a kitty?".

The little bunches of energy brought so much life to the room, and the way their mother looked at you with such welcome and love, you couldn't help but feel right at home.

But when the door to the frigid yard opened, and Childe's father strode in with clumps of falling snow following him, the room stilled.

The kids stopped laughing, Childe's mother looked on in grim anticipation, and your lover's smile finally fell.

You looked between the two in confusion: Childe's father did not look surprised, but did not look happy to see his son, and Childe himself was glowering, almost a challenge in his eyes. It was like he completely stole the older man's attention, as his eyes didn't seem to register you seated right next to his son at all. The man looked to his wife firmly, the look on his face alone silently shouting "Why is he here?". The woman's eyes flicked to you. He followed her gaze, his own blue eyes, with a dulled shine but not nearly as dulled as his son's, landing on you.

...and he grinned broadly.

"Well! Do we have a new daughter?"

You were perplexed by Childe's father's drastic shift in attitude, looking tentatively at your lover for some sort of explanation, but the man only fixed his eyes on the oak dinner table below him.

Childe's father stepped into the house and around his son to pull you into a big, warm hug. Though part of you was hesitant to accept sudden affection from someone who was practically a stranger, you couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and love eminating from the man's grasp. It felt like a hug from your own father; full of joy and warmth.

When you pulled away and sat back down with a tentative smile, the older man found his wife by the stove to give her a peck on the cheek. You turned your gaze towards Childe to find a soft smile on his lips; you'd always loved his grin, which had an endearing, crooked tilt to it---it was unique to him and characteristic to boot. However, this time, you weren't met with that classic Childe smirk; this time, his smile was a mix of both joy and sorrow---like how you would smile at someone who'd achieved something you yourself desperately wanted. You drew a hand out to smooth your palm over his cheek, and he gratefully leaned into your touch, momentarily shutting his eyes and releasing a weighted sigh.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

After dinner, though Childe's siblings begged the both of you to stay and play with them, you said your goodbyes to the family to retire to your new home just a few doors down. The two of you were exhausted from your trip, and you needed some time alone with Childe to get some explanations.

Childe kept you close to his side as the two of you walked down the cobbled street, his cloak thrown over the both of you once again to ensure the frigid air could not bring you discomfort for even a minute-long journey.

Down the street of dimly-lit homes, with mother's tucking their children into bed and couples huddled close under their warm covers, only one house shone brightly with warm, orange light in the starry night.

At the end of the street, your sturdy cabin, crafted from quality redwood, welcomed you.

When the two of you reached the porch---with an awning promising protection from falling snow in the mornings you now planned to spend sitting outside and watching as Teucer and Anton build snowmen in the yard---Childe scooped you into his arms before unlocking the front door and carrying you inside.

"For good luck.", he grinned, with that crooked tilt you adored so deeply, bringing a chuckle to your lips.

You leaned up and pressed a happy kiss to his cheek, drawing a pleased hum from him.

"I love you.", he sighed, holding you even closer in a tight squeeze before setting you down carefully.

You tore your eyes from his cheery face to take a look at your new home. To your surprise, it was nearly the spitting image of your old place in Liyue, only much bigger.

All of your furniture had been assorted just as you'd had it in your apartment, but you now had a bedroom and kitchen separate from the living room. New, classical Snezhanayan furniture sat in the spaces that couldn't be filled with the little belongings you had: a finely crafted display cabinet behind the dining room table, a velvet loveseat with flowers and swirls carved into the fine wood, a silver mirror by the front door that reflected the image of you and the man you adored so ardently---you had to admit, the both of you looked perfect together. As an additional surprise, framed photos of your and Childe's happiest days adorned the walls: a picture of you and Childe on your first date, your most recent birthday dinner with you surrounded by your closest friends, a beach day with Childe---your legs wrapped around his torso as he held you, cackling with you thrashing angrily as he dipped you into the chilly water. You smiled at the sweet images; they made your heart bubble like it did every time Childe spoiled and cared for you. Accompanying the snapshots were photos of Childe's siblings outside their schoolhouse, playing in the snowy yard, and even a family photo of when Childe was still small; from a time his little siblings hadn't been born yet. Your smile fell slightly as you reached out and stroked young Childe's image.

Your voice was gentle as you inquired, "...are there any more recent photos of your family? The kids aren't in this one."

His wistful gaze turned forlorn as he took in the image and your accompanying question, "...no."

Your heart broke at his distant face; something was eating at him, something deeply etched in his heart.

It was suddenly clear to you why he couldn't return home alone—why he dragged you out to his frosty country to secure you in a cozy cabin to share.

He needed to have you, someone who smiled so brightly in pictures with him, who welcomed him home with a hug and a smile at the end of each day, who'd tell him she loved him with ardent honesty in her voice.

In the expanse of the frosty country he grew up in, the only place he could return to was a house he was unwelcome in.

He needed you...

...because without you, he really had no home to return to.

Without another word, you'd understood the gravity of his situation, and the heart throbbing in your chest cried out at the sight of his somber expression to alleviate it.

You tugged him down to you, softly holding him around his shoulders and allowing him to rest his head on your collarbone. His eyes closed as your poured your love over him, whispering, "I love our new home."

"I'm relieved.", he sighed, "...I know I dragged you out here...and...I'm sorry...I realize how selfish it was."

"...I forgive you...I just wish you were honest with me earlier...I would have been more willing if I'd understood."

If he had told you the real reason he needed to take you home with him, though you might still have shied away from the change, you would have gone. The last thing you wanted was for the man you loved to feel alone in the world.

"You have me, Childe."

He hummed---the sound rumbling softly from his warm chest to yours, "I have you."

"You'll never be without a home again."

[skayafair]

No but it's so mind-blowing how transparent everyone in this show is relationship-wise.

It doesn't take half a brain to clock Edwin as glaringly and gloriously gay. Idk how Charles didn't reply with "oh don't you worry mate, I knew all along" in ep.6 because again, OBVIOUS.

No one said anything about Charles but basically anyone who takes a single look at him instantly knows he's bi. Like, it doesn't even need confirmation at this point although his behavior is it on its own. It's funny even how so many people watched the trailer and went "I thought he was the fruity one".

Idk about Crystal but she's giving bi vibes too, especially with her first reaction to Niko sprites be damned and purple color theme. And I know purple most likely represents her psychic abilities but idc.

We don't know about Niko but several people in the fandom (including myself) felt her experience really reflects our own - aroace spectrum one, and also she's giving lesbian/sapphic vibes. And again, from what I've seen the fandom is pretty united in this.

Niko doesn't think twice making a date with a woman for Jenny because of course she's a lesbian, no questions asked.

Also is it just me or is the Cat King pan? I refuse to believe he'd limit himself in anything when it comes to this.

And that's just for starters!

Because everyone knows there's something going on between the boys™ and it ain't straight.

Crystal knows Edwin's jealous and the show is trying to sell it as "jealous as a friend who doesn't get all the attention anymore" but it's fooling no one (and I believe not Crystal either).

Edwin does gets jealous immediately when Crystal comes into the picture because Charles has a crush on her from the first sight and it's obvious.

Crystal and Charles are very clear with their feelings and intentions towards each other.

Charles immediately smells something fishy with the Cat King and Monty and turns his jealousy full volume, like even Edwin wasn't THIS persistent with prodding despite being more vocal about it.

Despite the fact that Edwin's coming out technically happens in ep.6, NO ONE bats an eye when he's starting to hang out with Niko A LOT. Charles, who - see above - was immediately alarmed by the Cat King and Monty, has absolutely no problem seeing how close his dearest friend grew with the new girl on the team. Partly it's because Niko is a member of their group and is friendly with everyone, including Charles, but STILL. Niko is the only one besides Charles who's allowed the physical contact to the point of pretty tight hugs and handholding. Yet it doesn't even cross anyone's mind that there might be anything but friendship between these two. BEAUTIFUL *sheds a tear*

So like. I'm ND so human relationship is usually even more confusing to me than to a neurotypical person, and I know it's very complicated as is, to everyone. That's why seeing a show where everything is so EASY and crystal clear without simplifying things to a cardboard state was such a relief and a comforting experience. It's just nice to have it easy for once.

[rowanwithaz]

Comforting Heroism

Major Mha 423 spoilers

Unforgivable actions by understandable people:

This is really interesting to me. In this chapter Izuku says he can't forgive Shigaraki/AFO several times,and he's had similar sentiments before,but of course he can still see the hurt they're going through.

A couple of things stood out to me.

This is a pattern throughout the war. Izuku can't forgive Shigaraki or AFO,because they've hurt too many people,but it doesn't dissipate their pain. Izuku doesn't want to save villains,he wants to save them from their hurt. Because he can understand AFO,because he can understand Shigaraki,he can't forgive them for what they've done,but he provided Shigaraki with a sense of comfort,went to Shigaraki's child self to comfort the crying boy inside him.

And this mentality Izuku has isn't knew by any means,the war before this is when he comes to the conclusion he wishes to save Shigaraki,

I don't know if even he knew how he was going to though. So,in a sense,he's saved the crying boy inside Shigaraki,or should I say Nana did.

(Shigaraki saying he wasn't able to crush Izuku's hand may be him saying he couldn't refuse Izuku's comfort,like Izuku said himself; taking someone's hand is a form of comfort. So in the end,Shigaraki wasn't able to deny Izuku's (and the vestiges') help any longer)

In this chapter Shigaraki confesses that he was a crying boy deep down,which he had been denying pretty heavily,and that part of him escaped,that crying boy was saved by being comforted.

And I think Shigaraki ending his own physical body was definitely some good ol' symbolism. With Shigaraki destroying the body that AFO took from him,the body AFO forced to be destructive,he saved everyone and the boy crying in his own self. Like a hero. Shigaraki getting to fulfill his life-long dream whilst ending his own pain and suffering just feels right.

And the conclusion for AFO's pain and suffering and the explanation align with this.

Izuku saying this after AFO was defeated makes sense. Izuku is putting an end to the cycle of pain and suffering. AFO used and used people,causing them to do the same things he's done,and the OFA users,Izuku,and Shigaraki have put an end to this once and for all.

(This frame is chilling. AFO is just like, "Shiiiiiiiiiiit." )

Which was ALSO Izuku's goal.

Izuku has wanted to end this seemingly endless line of suffering,the pain that caused this chain reaction,Izuku wanted to put an end to it.

Izuku didn't fail to save Shigaraki,he didn't fail to stop him and AFO either.

Izuku's pain and suffering:

Izuku himself has been suffering this whole war. Physically and emotionally. An interesting little thing I noticed when Izuku was fighting AFO,when Katsuki shows up,that's when Izuku tells AFO he can't forgive him.

We have to remember what exactly AFO/Shigaraki put him through,last and especially this war.

Obviously,when they killed Katsuki,this gravely affected Izuku. So,I feel Izuku's pain and suffering from this

Hasn't been resolved yet. One of two main reasons I believe this is at the end of the chapter Horikoshi is using this panel,

Y'know,the one that happens right after Izuku forces his feelings down about Katsuki's death?

Izuku still has his own cycle of pain and suffering caused by AFO and Shigaraki,like in both wars,and I feel there's so much emotional damage that needs to be addressed.

I've been talking about comfort a lot throughout this analysis,and that's mainly because Horikoshi said in an interview a while back that he wanted to portray heroism in a specific way.

Reassurance.

Izuku comforting that crying boy,that is a form of reassurance. And throughout this war and chapter everyone has been feeling relieved merely by his presence alone. But,what about Izuku himself?

I feel this is where the whole, "You don't have to handle it all on your own," comes into place. I feel Katsuki needs to help Izuku feel reassurance in some way shape or form.

Izuku saved/won the day with everyone's combined efforts,but Izuku needs to rest.

And this whole sequence of events reminds me of the vigilante arc,and if everyone remembers,it goes like this.

Katsuki shows up,

He takes out a villain,then lets class A help,

they help Izuku with a sense of comfort,then Katsuki takes the wheel in emotionally connecting with Izuku. He reassures Izuku the greatest,because he's so special to him. So,people theorizing that Katsuki is going to catch Izuku (I dunno 'bout that) you're filling in the LAST blank. What goes before this?

A talk. A simple. Emotional. Talk. I don't know if this will happen for sure,but it makes sense all things considered. One of the biggest reasons Izuku became a vigilante was because the war hurt his friends,and more specifically,hurt Katsuki.

And since Togachako parallels them,it wouldn't surprise me if they had another emotional talk in the battle field (wouldn't be too surprising since there isn't much danger anymore) and with class A watching,perhaps they'll tell each other their truth,the WHOLE truth.

Random thought:

Speaking of Togachako parallels,I find it quite interesting that right Izuku's facial expressions look very similar in these frames when thinking of not hurting someone he loves,having a flashback to Katsuki getting hurt,then this latest chapter Izuku getting a little emotional after Katsuki helps.

I think it's the eyes and eyebrow placement or something.

[antianakin]

So here's a thought I had recently regarding Padmé's suspicion that Dooku was trying to have her assassinated back in Attack of the Clones, and the Jedi Council's doubt of the same. My thought is that while the Council's opinion on Dooku would turn out to be a grave misjudgment, Padmé didn't actually offer any evidence or even reasoning to support her. She just said "I think Count Dooku is behind [the attempts on my life]".

For me, this is such an important part of the story because it directly leads into the Council's relationship with Anakin in ROTS and the way they're a LOT more wary and mistrustful when Anakin does shady shit. Even if we ignore TCW and the added fallen Jedi who betray them there, they've already been burned once by assuming one of their own would never turn on them or do evil things. They're trying not to make the same mistake twice when they can tell Anakin is acting suspiciously.

Padme might not provide a lot of reasoning behind her suspicions, but she ultimately ends up being RIGHT about Dooku. She sees his participation in the Separatists who are doing shady shit and recognizes that his past as a Jedi does not exempt him from the suspicion of that association. The Jedi's compassion (which isn't a BAD thing) causes them to give Dooku the benefit of the doubt. They refuse to declare him guilty until he's proven to be. That compassion doesn't directly lead to any actual consequences (it doesn't cause the assassination attempts or Obi-Wan's capture), but they still LEARN from this mistake and are actively trying NOT TO MAKE IT AGAIN in the third film with Anakin.

If you want to bring TCW into account, you can see this same pattern emerging with Krell and then Ahsoka/Barriss. They get betrayed by not just Dooku, but also later Krell, so by the time they reach the Wrong Jedi arc, they explicitly say they can't rule out that a Jedi bombed the Temple. And then as much as they care about Ahsoka, they insist that they can't let their personal feelings for her override the facts in front of them that make her look exceptionally guilty. And while Ahsoka was not ultimately the one who bombed the Temple, it still WAS a Jedi who did it. And so by the time you reach ROTS and their interactions with Anakin, you can see a clear development in the Council's willingness to look on their own with more suspicion. They can no longer afford to give their own people the benefit of the doubt because they just keep being betrayed by those they had chosen to trust. And that is also part of the tragedy of what's happening to the Jedi in this era - their ability to be compassionate and extend trust, even to their own people, is being stripped from them because of the war and the influence of darkness tainting everything. Palpatine creates a world where the Jedi are forced into letting go of some of their core beliefs just to survive.

So sure, they don't have any real reason to believe Padme is right about Dooku, but the fact that they believe in him anyway and are wrong is SO IMPORTANT to the story being told here and leads really nicely into what we see of them later on.

[d3adlyromb3ar]

'. ݁₊ ⊹ cold lips, cold heart — one

— pairing. hockey player!choso x ice skater!fem!reader

— synopsis. you were one of the most graceful skaters to ever skate in your local arena, competing at a young age— racking up trophies and medals as the years passed. after an accident at your last competition, you find yourself afraid to skate again. your coach decides to ask one of your local hockey team players for help, desperate to get you back on the ice. but out of all the players your coach could’ve picked, it had to be him.

— word count. 3.5k

— contents. enemies to friends (eventual), friends to lovers (eventual), angst, trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, language

— notes. i think hockey players are hot & choso is extremely hot, so put those together and life just feels perfect 🤤 thank you @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

How does one find themself in this situation, one so backwards. One so disorienting you wonder if this is merely a dream or the harsh reality. It couldn’t possibly be a moment in your life that needed to happen. You outright refused to believe that this was happening for a reason.

Between the battlegrounds you call your life and the way you were losing your mental strength as every day passed— the ice was the last place you clung to. It was the only place where you could be free. Free of the pain, the agony— of it all.

As you feel the cameras flashing, the blurred outlines of faces and silhouettes crowding you— you realize that you life was about to change. The pit in your stomach only grew in size at the possibility that you may never skate again. What was once a place you could call home, could now just be remembered as a sheet of ice.

Your eyes remained unfocused, staring blankly at your legs covered by a sheet, being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. Voices could be heard from either side of you, although they were unclear. It sounded almost as if they were speaking underwater— you weren’t listening.

It became too much for your eyes to stay open, and you begin to drift off. If only you knew how much your life was about to change.

“Here you go,” You handed the man his extra large coffee with two sugars and two creams. Just like every day. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks darling.” The man sent her a smile, heading outside to his usual spot, in the shade, just a hair out of the sunlight.

You smiled as he walked away. He was such a kind old man, face so gentle— and wrinkly. Still, he was sweet.

“What bullshit!” Your friend Maki hissed, face stuffed in her phone, “They keep making these damn tickets more expensive. Fucking fuckers.”

You slapped a hand to your mouth, trying your hardest not to giggle at her frustrated state.

“C’mon, you don’t really wanna go to a hockey game that bad, do you?”

“Hell no.” She hissed.

“Right, right. You just wanna try and get some big hunky hockey player dick.”

Maki had a proud expression on her face.

“That’s right— and I’m not ashamed.”

You shook your head, letting the giggle escape this time.

“You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“And youuu need to get some hockey dick too. Or just dick period.”

You rolled your eyes, very aware of your dry spell that has been going on for… well. Awhile.

“I am doing just fine actually, thank you very much.”

Maki leaned forward, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She was giving you her best really look.

“Honey, I’m all for this independent female attitude you got going on but, let’s be real. You need to be dicked down.”

You made a disgusted face, embarrassed that she was talking so loudly when there were costumers around.

“You might feel a little less stressed once you do,” She told you, “Find some super good dick and all your issues might just vanish.”

“Yeah, wish that was the case.” You were at a whisper by the end, glancing down to the scars that started below your knee and disappeared underneath your shorts.

Maki noticed your stare, her gaze softening.

“Listen, it might be good for you to at least meet someone, y’know? You need to stop moping around and go do something— live a little!”

You pouted, crossing your arms.

“I’m not moping around.”

Maki gave you another look.

“Babe, you’re the epitome of moping around.”

You acted hurt, holding a hand over your heart.

“Damn Maki.”

“I’m serious (Y/n).”

You waved her off, brushing all your joking to the side. Plus, you were only using humor to hide how you were truly feeling— defeated.

“I know, I know.”

“I just wanna see you happy, that’s all. You deserve that after everything you’ve been through.” She told you sweetly.

“I am happy Maki. Life at the coffee shop couldn’t be better.” You tried to convince her. Hell, you couldn’t even convince yourself.

“You need a life outside of work, and one that makes you happy.” She corrected.

You walked past her, nudging her shoulder playfully as you passed.

“On it boss!” You said lastly as you headed for the back. Your shift was ending soon.

You clocked out of work, setting your apron in your work locker before heading towards the bus stop. You had a plan to go home and binge some cringey tv show while stuffing your face with junk food. Yeah, that sounds wonderfu—

“(Y/n)!”

Scratch that.

You turned to see your old coach walking towards you, huge smile on her mature face.

“Hey there Ms. Utahime. What brings you here?”

She furrowed her brows, stopping when she was in front of you. Her look was one that made you wonder if you should know why she was here.

“One, can’t I just come see my favorite person in the world,” She definitely wanted something, “And two, I’m wondering why you aren’t back on the ice?” Yup, there it is.

“I told you coach, I’m not going to be starting up again. Already returned my skates and all my uniforms.”

“Nope. Just had everything returned to your place.”

You gave her a wild look.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re going to be back on the ice soon.”

You sighed, leaning on your left leg to give your right a break.

“Coach, I’m not skating anymore. I’m sorry, I’m just not.” You started, pleading almost with her, “That chapter of my life is completed.”

She gave you a motherly look. Oh god.

“(Y/n) that chapter of your life was just beginning. You were doing so well and I couldn’t have been prouder of you.” You felt a but coming. “But,” Yup. “You aren’t done with what you’ve started, I’m sorry, I won’t let you waste your talent.”

“Coach—”

“Nope. I’m not giving you a choice. You’re gonna be back on the ice and train, because I know for a fact it’s been awhile since you’ve skated— no thanks to you.”

“I get it.” You rolled your eyes.

“I have big plans for you (Y/n), and they match up with your big plans.”

“Maybe that used to be my plan. Grow up to be the best skater there ever was, but after my…”

She waited patiently, watching your mouth open like a fish before closing. You had to gather your thoughts.

“After what happened,” You worded differently, “Things have changed. That girl, it isn’t who I am anymore.”

Coach Utahime sighed, giving her a moment to gather herself before letting her hand rest on my shoulder— in attempt to bring me some comfort.

“Will you at least think about it?”

You gazed into her eyes, her hope filled eyes that had you feeling weak and guilty— almost forcing the words out of your mouth. God, how you missed skating, and you’d do anything to get back to where you were. But it wasn’t that easy.

With a deep breath, you found yourself nodding.

“I’ll think about it.”

Her eyes were beaming, a smile taking over her face as she almost started jumping up and down from excitement.

“Great. I’ll see you soon.” She turned and waved goodbye, heading back to wherever she had come from.

Now it was just you standing at the bus stop, head full of chaos. What were you thinking? You couldn’t skate again, could you?

Like a robot following its coding, you walked onto the bus, sitting down in your usual spot all the way in the back— a window seat of course. You let your elbow rest on the arm of the seat, your palm cradling your chin. The view was pretty. In the sense that you got to admire people as the bus passed by. People didn’t realize how interesting they became when they were so oblivious to the watchers of the world, quirks and habits poking out as people became lost in their own little world.

It was a weird thing to appreciate I guess, but it calmed you.

You wondered how you looked to others that happen to watch you. You wondered if they felt sad, or if they felt embarrassment— for how someone could live such a dull life. Especially when life started so colorful, so lively.

Will you at least think about it?

You grumbled into your palm, annoyance at yourself for caving so easily to Utahime. It wasn’t easy to say no to her. She was the best coach you’ve ever had— the only coach that is. She was also not only a constant on the ice, but she was consistent in your personal life as well. It was odd but endearing.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a figure moved from your left. Glancing over, you watched the man sit on the furthest seat from you— except he was in the same row. The very back. Your section.

The man was facing the window, the view not helping you confirm who he was. The second he turned his head, and you were able to get a glance at his stupidly perfect side profile— you wanted to gag.

Choso Kamo.

You went with a scoff instead.

Choso turned his head towards the noise, his eyes unchanging as he saw you. Without smiling your way or offering any kind of greeting— he simply turned back to face forward. Not paying you any attention.

You narrowed your eyes at him, soon facing the window again— allowing yourself to once again sink into the abyss you called your mind.

Choso Kamo. Where to even start with Choso. It was pretty simple. He was a moody, angsty man who praised himself too high at being one of the best hockey players there was. Because that definitely wasn’t right… right? He had this mysterious aura about him, always keeping to himself. Never one to strike a conversation. To make things even better, the only confrontations you have with him were sour. He was always short and rude. It wasn’t that you wanted to dislike him— you just couldn’t stand him.

It also didn’t help that you used to have a crush on him, y’know, before you met him and then realized you hated him sorta thing.

I mean, who wouldn’t have a crush on him? Despite his shit personality, he was insanely attractive. Bone structure sculpted by the gods themselves. It was quite unfair really, to be gifted with such lethal looks— only to be a dick. Oh yeah, it didn’t help that he played hockey too. Apparently, it made a man 10x hotter when they played hockey. I don’t make the rules.

You snuck another glance at him, wondering what he was doing now. Or if he had gotten off the bus while you were daydreaming about hi— I mean thinking. Thinking about him.

You couldn’t help the pink dust your cheeks, seeing as he was already looking your way. In fact, he was holding your gaze with something unspoken. You instinctively placed a hand on your belly, wishing to stop the butterflies.

Again, like you were invisible, he looked away. Gazing out his own window, not paying you any mind. Again.

You chewed the inside of your lip, still unsure why it had to be him that had your gears grinding. He was a dick, yeah that’s it.

“Do you need something?”

The deep voice startled you, snapping you back to reality. A pair of dark eyes were staring at you, his brows furrowed at you as he waited for an answer.

You must’ve been looking at him still while you were lost in your thoughts. Great.

“Uh… no?” You didn’t even know why you were making it sound like a question.

“You were staring at me.”

“You were staring at me first.” You shot back.

His eyes narrowed in on you, silent for a moment as it almost seemed like he was trying to get a read on you. It had you squirming in your seat slightly— his gaze intimidating.

“I didn’t recognize you at first, (Y/n).” He admitted, your name falling off his lips so smoothly. “Was just making sure it was actually you.”

You swallowed, unprepared for that kind of response.

“Surprised you even remember my name.”

He turned his body slightly more facing you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You narrowed your gaze, starting to pick at the skin around your fingernails. A bad habit.

“You’re making it sound like we used to be close or something.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, just staring at you with confusion— like he didn’t understand you. He didn’t quite understand where your hostility was coming from.

“Were we not?”

You couldn’t possibly think of a way to respond to that, stuck staring at him like he’d just said the most outrageous thing. You felt confusion, shock and most importantly— embarrassment.

Remembering the day all too well, the day of your innocent much younger self building up the courage to express your feelings to a certain person. The same person who was sitting at the back of the bus with you.

You could still remember the utter humiliation of being rooted in your spot as he told you he didn’t feel the same. The sinking feeling in your stomach when he walked away, leaving you all alone to all watching eyes. You could still feel the tightness in your throat at the last glance of his pitied look towards you before he turned away.

Were we not? Choso had asked. The question almost making you laugh maniacally— at how obvious the answer was.

“No.” You told him blankly, “We were never close, I don’t know where you even got the idea that we were.”

He looked at you again for a moment, the only sound of the lulling engine of the bus. He had such a confused expression, and for a second you thought you saw something along the lines of a hurt look. That couldn’t be right.

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

He turned back to his window, gazing out at the scenery passing by— leaving you to your thoughts again.

You shook your head, noticing that it was your stop coming up. You got up and headed towards the front of the bus, your hand hanging onto the bus railings as you walked along.

“Have a good day ma’am.” The driver had said sweetly.

You gave them a small smile, holding onto the railing tightly as you focused on your steps. Why did the bus stairs have to be to steep? You thought.

Your heel hovered too far ahead of the next step, causing you to slip— your right knee buckling from the previous stair, crumpling under you.

The bus driver gasped, something about asking if you were okay— but all you could focus on was the hot sensation coming from your right leg. You gripped tightly onto the railing, stopping yourself from falling any further. You bit your lip as a weird sensation flourished throughout you, memories of the accident fresh in your mind— the visions almost causing you to physically flinch away.

“Ma’am? Are you okay ma’am?”

You closed your eyes for a minute, taking a deep breath before you stood on shaky legs, your left leg taking most of the weight. You hobbled off the bus, limping pathetically until you reached a bench.

It wasn't completely a reaction from the pain. Yes it hurt, but it were the overwhelming flashbacks that would cripple you momentarily. You just needed to relax on the bench for a couple seconds, you'd be okay after.

"(Y/n)—?" The familiar deep voice startled you, lifting your gaze to see Choso holding out your bag. "You dropped this."

You kept a neutral expression, grabbing your bag back.

"Thanks."

"You okay?" He asks, and you were confused at his genuinely concerned expression.

You tucked your hair behind your ears, taking a deep breath. You felt better now that the uncomfortable feeling passed.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You kept your answers short.

Choso didn't believe you.

"You sure?" He pushed.

You narrowed your eyes, studying him— almost like you were trying to figure him out.

"Do you actually care?"

Choso sighed, crossing his arms, still standing in front of you.

"Why would I ask if I didn't care?" He replied, his expression the same as when he'd started talking to you— concerned.

"Why would you even ask? You've never bothered to talk to me before, so why now?" You wondered, this sudden change confusing. He was usually quiet and keeping to himself— certainly not bothered to strike up conversation with you. So why now, was it rude to ask?

"You looked like you were in pain, so I thought I'd make sure you were okay." He explained, his brows furrowed as he was slightly annoyed, "Maybe I don't talk a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm heartless."

"Could've fooled me." You mumbled.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

You scoffed, wondering if you should tell him how your younger feelings were hurt. Your younger self experiencing her first heartbreak. Definitely not.

"I don't hate you... I just would rather not talk with you." You said instead.

"Alright... because?"

"Because I just don't wanna talk with you."

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair— which looked so soft and just gorgeous. No, don't think about that.

"Seems unfair."

You shrugged, leaning back on the bench as you crossed your legs. Taking your time when you set your right leg overtop your left, as it felt a little sore from your tumble.

"Life's unfair." You muttered, hating that you were repeating what you had been told all your life. To be on the other end of it felt weird.

He chuckled. He actually chuckled, the deep vibrating sound floating through the air. You really couldn't ignore how much you loved hearing that sound. Actually, you hated that you loved it.

"Alright, well take care (Y/n). Give your leg some rest, hope you feel better." He said, turning to walk away.

Your cheeks flushed, hating that he had caught you— but how?

"I told you— I'm fine." You tried to convince him.

"I know. You're a terrible liar." And he was incredibly observant.

You bit your lip in annoyance, uncrossing your legs and holding your hands over your right thigh— like you were trying to hide it. Yeah good luck.

You couldn't find it in yourself to respond, too frustrated that he had called you out. A part of you wanted to appreciate that he at least seemed like he really cared— but you also didn't trust that it was genuine. You wanted it to be— that small part of you always having a spot in your heart for him. For some reason.

His steps were swift and relaxed as he walked further away down the sidewalk— to where exactly? No idea. You were almost positive this wasn't even his stop, and that he only got off for you. To give you your bag back you weirdo— yeah thats it.

With everything, like coach pressuring you into skating, your family drama that you'd rather not talk about, Maki's odd obsession with getting me dicked down— and now Choso? I didn't need this and I didn't want it.

So why was your head filled with thoughts about him, and his stupidly handsome face?

Fuck.

Your phone rang in your bag, and you scrambled to get it out with a huff of annoyance. Can't I just be left alone? You thought.

Pulling it out, the caller ID said Coach. With a sigh, you slid to answer.

"Hey Coach." You greeted.

"(Y/n)! Good news—!" Her voice squealed through the phone, making you flinch back from it, "I got someone to help you get back on the ice!"

You face palmed your face, running a hand down as you held in the urge to whine.

"Oh, really?" You ask in fake interest.

"Yup, they will help you get comfortable skating again. I wouldn't have asked this person if I didn't trust them." She informed you.

"Great." You said sarcastically.

"(Y/n), try to sound a little excited— god." She complained, and you rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna send you this person's profile. Maybe you can meet and talk with him, get to know each other before you start training. Y'know, get comfortable with each other."

"Alright fine, but I'm only doing this because I know you'll just force me anyway."

"Very true." She laughed. "I'm sending over the info now, gotta go— text you later!"

She hung up before you could say bye, and you got the expected ding of the text. You clicked on the link to the profile and immediately noticed the logo on the profile— it was a hockey team.

Your eyes skimmed over the profile and widened in disbelief when you read the name listed. You gotta be fucking kidding me...

Choso Kamo.

Well fuck.

— ending notes. thinking about making this a series, but I have so many projects in the works right now, what am I doing to myself lol

[rottenpumpkin13]

Hey, @salternateunreality2 referred me to you (and birdblacksocialclub, who I'm also gonna ask for All The Thoughts) for a question I've got about Genesis in Crisis Core. I've just never really understood what's going on with him like, physically and metaphysically at the end. When Zack sets him down, he appears to no longer be degrading (at least in Reunion), like his hair is normal and his jacket isn't cracked. So did something heal him? The Goddess Materia? The grace of Minerva? But then like, something I read said he actually DIED? Did Deepground revive him (I have not played Dirge of Cerberus yet)?

Lol thank you in advance for your help.

I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you, but I’m SLOW and was fact checking what I knew so I didn’t give you misinfo lol.

Minerva healed him. Minerva is related to the planet’s consciousness, kind of like a form she uses to manifest to the rest of the world, so ultimately, the planet healed him. The exact how she healed him: for Genesis to have been healed, he would’ve needed to have been given Sephiroth’s cells since Sephiroth’s cells were (for lack of better terms) more complete, as opposed to how Genesis and Angeal were created in Project G (because the injection of the Jenova cells in the mother rather than the fetus like in Project S resulted in an unstable body). Sephiroth is long dead by the time Genesis reaches the lifestream, so the way it’s believed (this is not confirmed in canon btw) that Minerva healed him is by stabilizing his cells so that he’s not degrading anymore. Minerva doesn’t cure him completely, because for that to happen, she would’ve needed to take the Jenova cells out of his body, which isn’t possible. So Genesis still has his Jenova cells after he’s “cured.” This is why we see that he still has his wings in Dirge of Cerberus, which (timeline-wise) is the last installment in the series. I also want to note that Genesis’ cracked jacket was probably a creative choice to show that he was completely degrading, so when he’s back to normal when Zack brings him back up from the Banora underground, it’s meant to show that he’s been healed and no longer degrading.

When Genesis used the Goddess materia to power himself up, this is what causes Minerva to come to him, and we see that she’s not happy that he used the Goddess materia for something that didn’t align with his dreams. She sees that he hasn’t fulfilled his duty as a SOLDIER yet, so she rejects him from the lifestream and sends him back. You can say this is when he has the chance to prove himself now.

Genesis isn’t dead at the end. He seems to be unconscious (or at least semi-conscious enough to be dramatic and babble on about the gift of the Goddess lol). The two soldiers we see pick him up at the end are Nero and Weiss, two of the Tsviets from DEEPGROUND. DEEPGROUND is connected to Genesis because it was because of his degradation/evolution (this part is unclear to me, I’m sorry) that experimentation began. The Tsviets were spliced with Genesis’ genes. When they pick him up at the end, they take him back to DEEPGROUND, but Genesis refuses to join them, and that’s apparently when he seals himself away and goes to take his depression nap until the planet is in danger and needs him again.

It was revealed that the entire reason Genesis seals himself away is because he wants to wait for the planet herself to summon him for help, which is what happens at the end of Dirge of Cerberus when she summons him to fight against a greater threat, although we don’t know what that threat is because the series was never finished :/

[julietsbb]

So I saw fans on twitter saying they were disappointed we didn’t get the aftermath of the soft phumpeem kiss from last week (which, valid and same), but then I also saw some say that phumpeem were acting as if it had never happened in this ep. This I vehemently disagreed with and ended up doing like 20 tweets about why >.>

I figured I would share my thoughts here too, because might as well, my phumpeem brainrot is pretty strong and tumblr deserves phumpeem thoughts too!

I do Not think they are acting like it didn’t happen. Peem is acting much more ‘engaged’ with Phum this episode.

1) he doesn’t seem annoyed with him seriously at any point

2) despite hurrying off when he sees Phum show up, he still opens conversation with him by asking if he wants to come on the first ride with him. They have a mutual back and fourth during the ep, Peem is much more willing to engage, also seen when

3) Peem *texts Phum first* and says he’s gonna show up at his place. Like we SEE how surprised Phum is about this. DEVELOPMENT.

4) the *flirting banter at the café* is on a new level. It’s much more mutually aware that there’s something more between them! The Phum before last week’s ep could tease him about ‘oh are you looking at me because I’m handsome?’ but could not, in my personal opinion, have said ‘oh so you’re saying I’m not special to you? 😏’ - the way they’re both leaning in over the counter really says it all - they’re much more ‘meeting in the middle’ with their interactions/flirtations than before, where, until the kiss, (and please correct me if I’m wrong here), it was much more only Phum who initiated and Peem who responded in one way or another.

5) we also see this meeting in the middle thing when Peem has been teasing him about joining the amusement park rides (btw me 🤝 Phum about those fr), where he teases him into joining, and is ENJOYING phum’s reactions, because they both have fun fucking with each other, but he also knows not to take it too far. Like how Phum’s orders were douchebaggy in nature first, but turned teasing/pigtail pulling/‘I just want your atteeenttionnnn~~~’ later.

tl;dr they’re both much more aware of where they stand and the dance they’re doing after the last ep and it’s NOT as if the second kiss didn’t happen, there’s been a noticeable shift in how they interact.

But if they know this, have become more self-aware, why aren’t they just boyfriends already, you might ask?

WELL, I believe there’s character reasons for this.

We know Peem is in the process of figuring out exactly what his feelings for Phum are, so even if he’s more open to it, is enjoying exploring it, he hasn’t settled on his ‘final answer’ yet. Also, as he mentions to Q, they had an atypical beginning to their acquaintance, so to speak. Also I’m sure there’s many parts of Phum he’s struggling to understand. He’s often visibly confused by who he is/his character, so he probably doesn’t feel ‘certain’ about him yet. Also I bet Peem has personal reasons to maybe not wanting to let someone too close, which I hope later episodes will delve into.

As for Phum, he’s very aware that he’s extremely drawn to Peem and likes him a lot, he’s just a doofus who really doesn’t know how to be open with his emotions, probably to anyone other than Fang. We know he’s only (often alone in his flat, mentions Peem is introducing him to social experiences he hasn’t had before, only beer & fang would play with him etc.) plus it seems like he has had extremely absent parents and has a very strained relationship with his father especially. He probably has 0 frame of reference for what a relationship looks like AND was never taught how to communicate his emotions. That’s why his default setting to ‘new people’ was poser-ish probably; my guess is that’s probably what he saw his parents doing. He’s only starting to open up re: his emotions *because of* meeting Peem, who refuses to take his shit and refuses to let him get away with hurtful nonsense and whom Phum suddenly realises he doesn’t want mad at him and he doesn’t want to hurt.

We see him struggle to navigate this as well. He doesn’t know when or how to apologise, asks his friends for advice because he’s struggling to even *see* how he fucked up at all.Phum was probably treated like that by his parents and his parents acted like that was okay and didn’t apologise, so why should he?

Phum literally says “i don’t know how to make you less angry” and suggests Peem keeps the stuff he bought because maybe his parents had tried to placate him with material gifts? Beer’s advice is to apologise and he does it 3 times because he literally has no idea what else to do.

tl;dr 2: Peem is confused and uncertain in parts still + potential other stuff and phum does not know how to constructively and productively talk about and act on his emotions or express what he wants based on that. Emotional needs & wants? What are those, how do I detect them & like, asking for help to have them met? Is that something you can even do? <- Phum probably

[dismounts soapbox]

[writerfae]

Okay! Here's the promised ask! (Idk if I'll get to everyone's parents, so sorry for everyone who gets left out)

Now, I don't know if you meant writing for them before they had kids, so this will probably be a mix

Starting off with Ranva and Milan, of course! (Their's will probably be the longest because... yeah)

Milan seeing Ranva for the first time and he's jaw drops, because look at her!

I think hearing about the time when Milan helps Ranva get away from the fae realm would be really interesting (plus baby Henry 🥺)

Ranva having the exact opposite problem of Henry, as in he had to adjust to the fae realm and her to the human realm (the parallels of these two kill me every day)

I'm actually really interested in the time before Aiden was born (as in they're already in the human realm, but he's not born yet), because we never hear about it

(or rarely)

Fenna and Cyrus

Ngl I keep thinking about modern au them, because cute baker Fenna is top tear!

Also, that thing you mentioned about Fenna holding Cyrus after their son died

Also, them just bickering 🥺

Hela's parents

I don't think I know a lot about her dad (or if I do, I forgot again)

And her mom looking for her, and her being mischievous is adorable ❤️

Now... I know very, very little about Maya's mom... so... sorry❤️

And meanwhile I want to come up with something fluffly for my guys but I've got nothing...

But listen 👏 (I think I made a post like this actually, but I was listening to the song again, so:)

Bendegúz: The soldier

Ákos: The poet

Endre: The king

Adél: The one who's singing

(Yes, I love going on rants about songs and my ocs. When I go on a rant about an Odette song that will be... well, you know what she's like🤣 there'll be emotions( but her playlist is one of the best)

Also, can you imagine Endre holding up Ákos to your ocs lion king style 🤣

Thanks, that’s so nice of you ^^

My initial thought was to write fluff for them as couples (with no kids) but since I have no actual plans for this god knows when I’ll even get around to do this I’m open for everything!

Milan was completely star struck when he met Ranva. Ranva’s sister noticed it first and told her. They were both giggling like crazy stealing glances at him stealing glances at Ranva xD and at one point he gathered his courage and really formally introduced himself, with hand-kiss and all.

To be honest, Ranva’s sister, her teacher and her maid were the ones who had the most part in arranging her and Milan’s “escape”. More interesting is probably the time before that (their secret meetings, Ranva telling Milan about Henry and about wanting to leave with them) and after (Milan helping her adjust, helping her with Henry, refusing to hunt for people who talked bad about his wife).

The way Henry’s story is mirroring his mother’s (but reverse) is one of my favorite things about the two. Also how different yet similar their way of freedom looks like!

When Aiden was born, Ranva already spent six years in the human realm. In the time till his birth a lot of her adjusting and dealing with missing home happened. Her learning some customs she had to adopt. Her making friends with Holly. Her, Milan and Henry being a happy little family despite some sullen grumbles from other villagers.

I wouldn’t really know what to tell you about it though, if you don’t have specific questions…

Fenna is already adorable, but baker Fenna from the modern au is even more so! Her and young Cyrus meeting in France is so cute too. I like thinking about younger them lately, even in canon. Not that they’d play any role significant enough for me to think about them, but I do and I adore them xD

The thing is that Fenna loves Cyrus. She remembers the man he used to be and she still sees that man in him, deep down. She’s hoping to one day get him back out. He might never be the same like he was before they lost Thorin, but she holds on to him because she knows deep down he’s still a good man. Flawed, but good. And she loves and believes in him still, though she doesn’t approve of the way he handles his relationship to their kids.

Halea’s parents’ names are Arian and Sofia. They are actually least developed, so I can’t tell you much about them. Except for that Sofia is originally from the Oak court, where her mother was one of the queen’s ladies. And Arian is head of the House of Hummingbirds, who married her and took her to the Willow court with him.

It’s funny how you know little about Maya’s mother, yet she’s the first parent beside Milan and Ranva that actually got a backstory xD

Gwen is a witch. She and her family before her, like many witches, were follower of the old ways. Which is what you call people in the human world that still believe in the old religion (the goddesses, the existence of fae and magic…) and follow old customs.

She grew up living with her grandmother and mother in their little cottage by the forest. She learned the old ways and her craft from them. Now she couldn’t do real magic, since humans are incapable of it, but she knew old rituals and little “spells” and knew how to make potions and (lucky) charms and she knew lots about herbs.

She and Maya lived from what Gwen sold on the big market in their hometown. Things like wool, eggs and goat milk and woven baskets. Dried herbs, balms and medicine. But also charms, potions and other stuff for the more “superstitious” people. Ranva was one of her customers, too.

Gwen was never interested in marriage. But she did want a child. Which is why she wished for Maya!

Oh yeah I remember you mentioning that! I think it fits your characters very well (both the song and the positions you applied to them like who’s the king and who’s the poet…)

Music can be a very good way to get close to our characters! I like doing that a lot too!

[helga-grinduil]

Okay, so. Um. Chapter 423.

Seeing people's reactions I have to say some things. And let me preface this by saying that I don't believe this is truly it. But.

The issue isn't even that Izuku (seemingly) failed to save the person he wanted to save from AFO (well, it is an issue, actually, but not the main point. Also, the fact that his and vestiges' plan to reach Tenko is also what ensured Tomura's death is just so... ), and it's not that he's weirdly distant and cold in this chapter.

It's the fact that not a single one of them actually acknowledged anything that they saw and heard in Shigaraki's mind. Neither of them talked about what AFO told Tomura - the fact that Tomura didn't say anything about what he learned about his quirk, his purpose and the fact that he never truly wanted to kill his family is especially mind-boggling. And Deku didn't say anything about the revelation that Tomura never really had a chance or a choice from the very start either. There was no self-relfection on either side, no real conversation, and there also was no real understanding between the two being reached. It's the fact that Deku instantly stopped caring or wondering about Tenko/Tomura the moment AFO came back, being completely willing to pulverise his body when just a few chapters ago he refused to do that when Nana told him to. It's the fact that he didn't react to Kurogiri pleading for Tomura and Bakugou just killed (???? maybe not, it's hard to understand) the man. It's the fact that the vestiges still being alive and Nana saving Tomura (oh hey, guess her whole family actually all died to AFO, unable to truly smile) was off-screened.

This is not people blaming Izuku. This is just people complaining about straight up bad writing.

Even if Tenko is still alive (And Kurogiri wasn't killed by Bakugou too, but I feel like Kurogiri is just too doomed to survive anyway), that doesn't erase the weirdness that this chapter was. It would still be salvageable, I guess, depending on what happens next, but good lord, the damage was certainly done.

And if Tenko is really dead, but we'll just see more of Midoriya's reaction to that in the following chapters, this would still be fucking horrible.

I love Deku. I love his emotions, how genuine he is, how empathetic he is. He is just a kid forced into an awful situation. This is not a jab at him as much as it is a jab at the author and the writing here. Because how in the world does the protagonist fail at doing what he wanted to do harder than the supporting cast with their villains? Why was Toga and Uraraka's final chapter more genuine and emotional that THIS - the protagonist and the main antagonist's last conversation????? Why was Ochako more upset about realising that Toga is about to kill herself than Deku was in those chapters?

[dollya-robinprotector]

I know I have a habit of always keeping things to myself… But why am I still surprised when people don’t know what I know?

[andthebeanstalk]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[toxooz]

been binging tf outa Avatar the last airbender bc ive been puking my EVERLOVIN guts out since yesterday and hear me out

[dykedvonte]

thinking abt what you said with house viewing Benny as a son and I’m obsessed. Like. The man spent most of his life before the war presumably alone, and then after the bombs fell he was alone again, save for AI he himself devised. Then he decides to pull in some Tribes, and one kid shows promise! So sure, treat him well, train him, groom him to be his protege, then next thing you know UH OH he’s got developing paternal feelings towards this guy. Wanting some semblance of a family when the time has long since passed, yet fostering that feeling all the same seems so accurate for him. Benny meanwhile only views him as a boss, and not a particularly good one at that. makes me wonder how House must’ve felt when he found out about Bennys plans

I view it as House blames only himself for this, cause he kind of does in canon (strap in this is a long one).

When reflecting on the issue of Benny, House chastises himself first and foremost for not acting quickly enough when it comes to priming Benny. He describes Benny as being ambitious, ruthless and capable; compliments coming from a man like House. House has an ego and while he is logical enough to understand there was never any evidence Benny saw him as a father-figure, he lacks the humility to admit he let his own views on his relationship with Benny blind him to the activities happening behind the scenes.

I doubt that House was as aware as he makes out about what Benny was doing, he knew early on but certainly not early enough to stop Benny from hacking and obtaining a securitron along with getting the chip in the first place. I take it he was distracted by all the possibilities he was calculating of Vegas' success and growth with him steering and Benny as the new figure head, not because of any normal affection for Benny but the admiration of his capabilities. It's to be noted that House believed menial incentives (likely caps, booze, basic needs, etc..) were enough to keep Benny tame like the other Chairmen but, as evidenced by the Omertas and Mortimer in the WGS, this is not enough when it comes to more driven Vegas citizens. This implies he still undervalued Benny and created a space in which Benny felt the need to rebel.

House in my eyes is not sentimental in the traditional sense. I can imagine his pride was severely scorned as someone he certainly deemed dumber than him was, albeit only for a little, able to out-gambit him. It would definitely hit home seeing how his brother also betrayed him but I feel like that's why he's so apathetic when he tells the Courier to do as they see fit with Benny. I doubt the way he terrorized his brother brought him any emotional satisfaction other than a "Now who's in charge!" ego boost. Putting that same emotional intensity towards Benny isn't worth it because who does it benefit? Wasted time, wasted planning, and most importantly wasted potential are all he gets from continuing to be hands-on with Benny. I say the closest example is not being able to throw out old toys due to the memories attached but knowing it's necessary as they are broken or just taking up space for new ones, and then asking someone else to do it so you don't need to get caught up in the feelings of throwing something you put so much effort into. It's not Benny House cares about in my mind, not in a way that sounds healthy to any non-emotionally constipated individual, but what he could've represented for him, which is why he so quickly offers the same position to the Courier.

As for Benny's view on all of this, it was a long time coming. Benny didn't and doesn't believe House is a completely shitty boss. He admires what he's been shown and admits House knows how to run the strip, but disagrees with the directions. Ideologically, House is an anarcho-capitalist while Benny is just an anarchist. House wants to run the strip to profit, though money is not what he's concerned with being rich with anymore. Benny wants a free state that he wishes to become a place for the people, except for the Chairmen who would be on top (I like to remind people that Benny's motives were selfish but not for personal gain/power as was it for the people he actually saw as family). Benny was never looking for a father but a future. He was not interested in being adopted, or having the chairmen adopted, as bigger names still overshadowed in House's legacy.

Truly, it's easiest to summarize as House feeling strongly and thinking positively enough of Benny to start incorporating him into the future of Vegas (a huge honor actually) while Benny was so disillusioned by House's ego and indifference that he thought the only way Vegas could be the future is with House gone.