#he might stomp on her foot once

[banefulbenevolence]

@hellscaress

🔪 / my durge? - totally an accident, she swears

'Or what, you'll stab me?' The words hung heavy as she answered the question. He stares at the knife buried in his middle, and then lifts his gaze to look at the aptly named Dark Urge before him. Pain was a distant concept -- perhaps it was shock, perhaps he was simply shocked. Already his brain is racing with what he ought to do and ought not to do. He takes hold of the knife hilt with one hand and shoves his god-bound ally back with the other. "Rhetorical. It was a rhetorical question."

[teddybeartoji]

satoru as the guardian of an itty bitty six year old nobara... he spoils her so fucking much, and he lets her do anything and everything lmao nobara is so loud and lively and satoru fucking loves it like he adooores her so so so much<333333333

lets nobara climb all over him like he's her personal jungle gym whenever she's bored and lets nobara mess up his hair if she so desires. this is all very normal btw,, satoru doesn't even bat an eye when he feels her tugging at his arm as he's cooking, only smiling to himself when nobara grumbles that he's too heavy for her too pull on. satoru just ruffles her hair and tells her that he'll play mario cart with her after they've eaten and just fucking dies out of cuteness agression when nobara stomps her little foot while glaring at him. the hair thing is very casual too – sometimes satoru's just laying on the couch, watching tv, when nobara plops onto his back and just splays herself all over him like a puppy. yk how they sometimes lay on their backs with their paws up in the air – like that. it's very cute!!! she watches the tv with him for a while in silence but then she gets a little bored and goes to play with his hair instead. she styles it, she combs it; she makes fun of it being white, commenting that satoru's just so old already but he loves it.

they have spa days together, too. after a very, very bubbly bath, they're both clad in the cutest pyjamas with equally adorable headbands holding back their head. satoru's never been afraid to spend his money, meaning that the bathroom they share is as big as they come – they both have their own sides, seperate sinks and cupboard for the both of them (satoru really loves spoiling her). nobara has her own little stool to stand on as well, so she can see herself in the mirror perfectly as they wash their faces before applying face masks. sometimes nobara insists on putting on satoru's herself bc she thinks she can do it better. of course, he lets her.

after that, satoru carries her to the couch, so they can watch a movie while the mask dries. they eat popcorn and candy, and joke about whatever's playing on the screen. and when the twenty minutes are up, they both head back to the bathroom to wash their faces again. nobara does this for satoru, too – her eyebrows are furrowed, her eyes determined as she cleans him up. satoru pokes her cheek and laughs as she tells him off, as she tells him to stop messing around. satoru apologizes with a grin.

he blow dries her hair after all the skincare is done, his hands gentle as he combs through the strands. he's extra careful, knowing full well that he'll get reprimanded if he were to tug on her a bit too hard. satoru's rather good at it btw – doing her hair. he's learned how to braid it in different ways, so he's ready for whatever she could ever want. he's got hairties with him at all times, he's even got some hairclips in his pockets – in various shades, to match with the outfit she's wearing.

satoru likes to teasingly call her "little lady". it almost always ends up with her trying to shove him, the argument that 'she's not little' the saying she counters her guardian with. satoru thinks she's very adorable. nobara usually calls him by his name, sometimes by his last name but that's only when she's a little pissed off or when she's trying to be tough. she calls him 'toru' when she's tired though; when she's glued to him, her tiny hands circled around his neck as satoru's carrying her home from the park.

satoru's always there at her taekwondo practices, silently cheering her on as she kicks ass. he's so proud of her, so fucking proud. every once in a while, she turns to him with a big grin on her face, yelling out in excitement after yet another win. satoru is so incredibly proud.

satoru really adores nobara. she might not be his kid, but he still loves her like one. a father, a brother, a guardian - it doesn't matter. family. and nobara couldn't be any happier either – to have somebody that lets her have her fun, that doesn't even try to tone her down in any way. to have somebody that loves her unconditionally. it's everything a child could ever possibly want.

[corroded-hellfire]

Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar. 

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage. 

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks. 

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet. 

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be. 

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink. 

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head. 

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation. 

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air. 

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using. 

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on. 

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter. 

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers. 

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows. 

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys. 

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers. 

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you. 

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either. 

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around. 

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister. 

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it. 

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad. 

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that. 

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals. 

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time. 

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”

[moonstruckme]

Hi! First wanna say I love your writing of the marauders!! It’s amazing and really fills the need I have for their content so thank you! I was hoping to request something kinda similar to the aftercare poly!marauders washing up fic you just did but with a reader who can be exhausted but the minute they shower and get ready for bed they get a sudden burst of involuntary energy and can’t sleep anymore and they get cranky that they were sorta woken up and blame the boys for making her wash up and she’s just very bratty and upset and end it with fluff please?

I'm happy you enjoy it! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: very (very) brief implied smut

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You lie on your back, the trembling starting to die down and one hand still tangled loosely in Sirius’ hair. You close your eyes, trying to even out your breathing. Remus strokes the outside of your thigh, giving you the time you need to come down. But just as the sweat starts to cool on your body, just as your breathing relaxes into a more familiar rhythm and your mind starts to slip away, he says, “Alright, lovely girl. Let’s get up.” 

You sigh, but allow yourself to be hauled upright, mumbling a thanks into James’ shoulder as he piggybacks you into the bathroom. You barely have to stand upright by yourself as you let your boyfriends wash you off, taking turns supporting you and dipping under the showerhead themselves. Sirius teases you for being such a princess when you’re sleepy, and James says that he actually thinks you’d make a fantastic princess, thank Sirius very much, and Remus chuckles at the both of them, and it’s all so familiar it only lulls you further into your tranquil state. 

Before long, you’re wrapped in a warm towel and James is helping you into your favorite fuzzy pajamas, dropping a kiss on the top of your head when he’s finished. You start to crawl up the bed, loose-limbed and eager to slip between the warm sheets, but Remus stops you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, wait a minute.” He ducks his head, moving your curtain of wet hair aside so you’re forced to give him your attention. “Did you go to the bathroom?”

You whine, and the concern in his eyes morphs into knowing. “Not negotiable, dove. UTIs are not fun.” 

You flop petulantly onto the bed, face down. “Like you would know,” you grumble into the soft sheets. 

James chuckles, but grabs you around the ankles and tugs until your legs are hanging off the mattress. You clutch loose fistfulls of covers. 

“It’ll be okay jus’ this once,” you yawn. At the moment, a good night’s rest seems worth whatever mild inconvenience a UTI might cause. You’re so cozy, and sleep is right there, already coming to reclaim you despite your uncomfortable position at the end of the bed. 

“C’mon, just go so you can get in here with us, yeah?” Sirius says, prodding you with his foot from underneath the sheets. “Won’t take a couple minutes.” 

You groan but slide off the bed, walking zombie-like into the bathroom. The lighting seems harsher now that it’s not clouded by steam. You miss the warmth of the shower, the support of your boyfriends’ arms. The tile is cold under your feet and someone’s left the fan on, its whirring noisy and incessant. Everything seems more and worse than it was a few minutes before. 

By the time you’re done, you’ve woken up entirely against your will. The drowsiness from just a minute before feels like a distant, hazy memory. You tromp back into the bedroom, peering through the darkness at your droopy-eyed boyfriends. Envy curls in your stomach like a snake poised to strike. Your eyes, your muscles, your very bones are exhausted, yet you don’t think you could drift off even if someone poured a sleeping draught down your throat. Sirius cracks an eyelid to find you standing over the bed and lazily pulls back the covers, opening his arms for you. You feel like stomping your foot. 

“I’m not tired anymore,” you complain. Sirius blinks both eyes open, and Remus and James stir. “You guys made me get up, and now I won’t be able to sleep.” 

“Don’t be silly, dove.” Remus murmurs, not even opening his eyes. “Get in bed, you’ll fall asleep soon.” 

“I can’t,” you say, too frustrated to be embarrassed at the whiny pitch of your voice. 

“Whas’ going on?” James is beginning to rouse, and Remus gives you a cross look. Yeah, you think, that makes two of us. They’d all forced you to get up, and frankly, you’re not feeling too guilty about letting them have a taste of their own medicine.

“She says she can’t sleep,” Sirius replies, pushing up onto his elbow. 

James rolls over so he’s facing you, his eyes foggy and half-lidded. “D’you think you just need to warm up, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, but Sirius joins him. “Yeah, c’mere, baby. Let us fix you up.” 

And, well. You’re supposed to be mad, but it’s hard to resist an offer like that. 

Your huff is mostly performative as you crawl into the bed and Sirius’ waiting arms, letting him maneuver you over him so that you’re lying between him and Remus. It is considerably warmer underneath the covers, and you shuffle closer to Sirius. For body heat, of course. 

“Fuck, you are cold,” he mutters as your feet brush his calves, but he doesn’t pull away, rubbing warmth into your arms. 

“This isn’t going to work,” you say as one of his hands moves to your back, tracing smooth circles with his palm. “I still don’t feel tired.” 

“Try,” Remus says, managing to sound stern even on the brink of sleep. “Just close your eyes and give it a little while.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your head under Sirius’ chin. 

“I said close your eyes, dove.” 

You don’t know how Remus knows, but this time you comply. Quiet settles like a blanket over the four of you, the only sound the rhythmic swishing of fabric as Sirius’ hand moves over your back. He smells like his conditioner. You read the label once. It’s called Lilac Breeze, but its aroma is more complex than that, you think. It’s clove, and it’s midnight, and it’s Sirius, something fundamental to him that makes your breaths deepen and your mind settle. Remus nestles closer behind you, his cinnamony scent wafting over you and intertwining with Sirius’ until you’re doped up on loveliness. Every inch of you has warmed now, and your head sinks further into the pillow. Tension you didn’t realize you’d been holding in your hips and shoulders dissipates. Everything is warm and dark and soft. 

You realize you’re yawning too late to stifle the sound, and James chuckles. “Not tired, huh?”

“Shuddup,” you murmur, and Sirius’ breath fans hot over your forehead as he laughs silently, his hand never faltering on your back. You think you feel a kiss against the back of your head, and that’s the last thing you know before you fade into unconsciousness.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

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

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || Your Toddler Has A Crush

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

JIN:

"You know we don't have to go out," Jin teased as your daughter's smile dropped from her face. All week long she'd been getting more and more excited to spend time with "Uncle Kookie"

"Nuh-uh!" She cried and pouted, stomping her little foot as Jungkook ruffled the top of her head.

"You need a date night and little princess here needs time with Uncle Kookie," Jungkook smirked, ignoring the look he got from you for messing up your daughter's hair.

"Not too many cookies, or ice cream...and make sure she goes to bed-" You were cut off as your daughter hugged your legs tightly.

"Uncle Kookie got this," She promised you before kissing your knees. It was true. Jungkook had babysit a lot and that was mostly because your daughter demanded he be the one to babysit and no one else. It was like she had a soft spot for him which was true, just last week she said she was going to marry him one day - which would never happen but kids were allowed to dream at her age.

"Be good for him, okay?" You warn her and she nods kissing your cheek once you bent down to kiss her softly YOONGI: When your daughter asked to join Yoongi at work he hadn't thought about why it might have been. He just assumed his daughter wanted to spend time with him at work but as he worked through his day it became abundantly clear that wasn't the case. Every single time Taehyung would come into the room her smile would light up and she'd cuddle up to him. Or even try to go with him whenever he was leaving.

"You like Uncle Tae?" Yoongi chuckled as Taehyung sat beside your daughter, her hand tightly locked with his as she told him he wasn't allowed to leave her side.

"I love himmmmm," She whines clutching Taehyung's side who smirked over at Yoongi.

"More than daddy?" Taehyung laughs as your daughter nods her head and cuddles closer to her favourite member. HOSEOK: Hoseok was in the kitchen, preparing a snack when he heard his daughter giggling as she played in the living room. You were out for the day leaving them to have a daddy-daughter day together.

"What’s so funny, sweetheart?" he asked, peeking around the corner to check that she was okay but she just grinned and looked up at him with her big eyes and said, 'I wuv Uncle JimJam!' Hoseok chuckled, crouching down to her level.

'Oh, you do? He’s a pretty cool guy! What do you like about him?' He watched as she thought about it for a second and giggled.

'I wuv his songs and he makes me laugh!' she said with a wide grin showing off some of her teeth to him. Hoseok smiled, feeling proud of her before squeezing her cheek softly. 

'Well, you have great taste! Maybe we should invite him over more often for playdates.' He smirks knowing Jimin would happily come around just to spend time with her. She gasped before nodding eagerly, clapping her hands. Hoseok laughed, scooping her up in his arms. 

'Let’s tell him he has a special fan!' NAMJOON: Namjoon was reading a book in the living room when his daughter crawled onto his lap, clutching a tiny photo of Uncle Hoseok, you smiled from the doorway watching them both together.

"Daddy, look!" she chirped, showing him the picture. Namjoon carefully shit his book and shoved it to the side studying the photo for a second.

"Uncle Hobi?" He smiled at the photo. It was of your daughter and Hoseok at the party from the week before. Your daughter nodded, her eyes shining as she giggled looking at the photo. 

` "Oppa funny! Makes me laugh!"

Namjoon chuckled softly. The two of you weren't blind to the small crush she had on Hoseok, in fact, the two of you found it rather endearing that she seemed to like him so much. 

"He is pretty funny, isn’t he? What do you like about him?"  Your daughter paused, thinking hard before staring at the photo and pointing at the smile on Hobi's face.

"His smile!"  Namjoon nodded, pressing a small kiss to her temple. 

"That’s a good reason. Smiling is important. How about we make a drawing for him?" Your daughter gasped before sprinting toward her craft table in the corner. JIMIN: Jimin was the first to notice something was up and he'd talked to you about it, only to find out you'd known for a long while that your daughter had a crush on Namjoon. He just caught your daughter staring dreamily at Jungkook during a rehearsal and couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

“Hey there, daydreamer,” Jimin grinned, catching her attention as she started to blush, looking down at her drawings as you smirked from beside her. 

“Who are you thinking about?" Her face turned crimson, and she quickly looked away. 

“No one! Umma, tell him.” she protested and you cuddled her close to you. Jimin chuckled as he sat down beside her to see what drawing she was working on. It was all of the boys dancing together. 

���Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” he winked, enjoying teasing his daughter even if it was just a little but it was something he was never going to let her forget no matter how old she got. TAEHYUNG:

Taehyung was lounging on the couch, watching cartoons with his daughter, when she suddenly turned to him with an excited expression.

'Daddy, Daddy!' she called, tugging at his sleeve, pointing at the screen at one of the characters.

'Yes, my little star?' Taehyung replied, giving her his full attention.

'Looks like Uncle Jin' she announced, her eyes sparkling with delight before Taehyung followed her gaze. Taehyung grinned, finding her enthusiasm adorable, the cartoon character almost did look like him as well.

"Really? Do you think he's strong like Uncle Jin?"

"Very! And pretty! I love him!" This caught Taehyung's attention as he turned to your daughter who still had her eyes glued to the screen.

'Oh, really? What do you love about him?'

'He’s funny, and he sings and dances!' she said, clapping her hands with joy. Taehyung chuckled, nodding along with her, just happy your daughter got along with his friends.

'He is very talented. Maybe you can show him your dance moves next time he comes over?' Her eyes widened with excitement as she scrambled off the sofa starting to practice her moves.

'Yes, yes! I can dance too!'Taehyung smiled, putting some music on for her to dance her heart out to,

'You’re the best dancer I know! How about we practice a special dance just for him?" Taehyung asked as he got up to join his daughter on the dance floor.

JUNGKOOK:

Jungkook was playing a video game when his daughter crawled onto the couch beside him, wearing a Suga 96 top and carrying a Yoongi doll.

"Who’s that?" Jungkook asked, glancing at the toy, you giggled from the doorway as you watched them.

"Uncle Suga!" she declared, waving the figure around and almost hitting Jungkook in the nose with it but he dodged it. Jungkook chuckled, pausing his game so he could focus all his attention on your daughter. 

"Uncle Yoongi's your favourite?"

She nodded, her eyes twinkling as she giggled a little. 

"Uncle funny! He makes silly faces!" Jungkook grinned, amused that his daughter had someone other than him to make her laugh in this life. It was good for her to know she had someone other than him to go to in her times of need. 

"He does, doesn’t he? Want to make silly faces with Daddy?"

She giggled, nodding as they both started making exaggerated expressions. Jungkook laughed, taking a selfie with her. 

"We’ll send this to Uncle. He’ll love it!" His daughter clapped her hands, clearly delighted and cuddled closer to her dad. 

"Yes, yes! Send to Uncle!"

"Alright, princess," Jungkook said, snapping the picture. 

"Let’s make him smile!" You smirked from the doorway at them and Jungkook threw a look your way,

"Jealous." You mouthed to him before he stuck out his tongue at you.

"Funny faces for mummy too!" Your daughter yelled.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[angel-of-the-moons]

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [5/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3454

Summary: Aemond gradually embraced the rugged and untamed ways of the wildlings, adjusting to their customs and survival skills in the harsh environment they inhabited.

As dawn broke, the first fingers of light seeped into Aemond’s tent, casting a gentle, golden glow that wove through the coarse fabric. The sun’s early warmth stirred him from his slumber, and he awoke with a serene awareness of another day granted to him. The sleep he had savoured was a rare gift from the gods especially when he stepped foot in the north. 

The finest sleep he had enjoyed in months.

Surely this humble tent wasn’t as extravagant of his chambers in King's Landing. The Wildling’s tent was as if it brings comfort to him than the Night's Watch barracks. Here, the simplicity of his shelter was a luxury in itself, a sanctuary far superior to the cramped mattresses and the chill of the stone walls. Aemond’s gaze fell upon the fur and blankets that cocooned him—a gift of warmth from the Wildling woman who had shown him unexpected kindness;  he knew he might never be able to fully repay her. As he drew the fur closer, he inhaled deeply, savouring the lingering scent of the wild, a subtle fragrance of her that spoke of forests and untamed lands. 

Aemond took his time layering his new clothing that formerly belonged to the wildling named Yuri, one of her wildling companions. He wondered if she herself could make good clothing. Putting on the thinnest layer first, he wrapped the sheep skin next around his waist up to his chest. After several layers, he topped it off with the wildling’s distinctive camouflage fur coat. Tying it up, he peeks through his tent, finding the area already alive. Stew boiled as children ran through the snow. 

Far much different that the smallfolk yet they were just as simple as they were. 

He slips on his boots also made out of thick fur, possibly sheep skin. 

Tying his hair like he always did since he was a child, 

He looked up to the tent’s opening. 

It’s time. 

Parting the tent’s entrance, revealing himself as Aemond stepped out of his tent, he felt eyes on him. Some were the same, some were positive stares. Through all that, he couldn’t help but to feel a sense of insecurity washing over him. Yet he masked it well enough, walking through the crowd, searching for familiarity in this foreign world he walks in. And he finds his answer well enough when he spots her. 

Sitting on a wooden log on the edge of the camp, beside the stallion he brought from castle black, sharpening her arrows. He stepped closer as his heavy footsteps stomped through the snow. Heavy enough for her to notice him, turning her head around. “Snow haired! You’re finally awake. A good night's rest, I suppose?” She teased with a childish grin across her face. “It was well enough,” he said with a smirk. His wildling friend could only smile back before carving her handmade arrows once again. 

“Do you sharpen your arrows everyday?” He asked curiously. 

“No, not everyday. Just for special occasions or for hunting,” she said as she shook her head. “And what is today’s occasion if I may ask?” Satisfied with his question, the she wildling turned her head once more. “We are going to take you…hunting, Prince Aemond.” Saying his title with a hint of tease, standing up before him. “Taking me for a hunt?” He repeated. 

“Why yes. If you shall fight with us, we would like to see first how well you hunt. How you ride your horse, how quiet your steps are–,” tapping his feet with her bow, recalling how heavy his footsteps were wearing her kind’s heavy boots, “–and how true you were of your skills in swords and such.” 

“You want me to prove myself to you?”

“Oh not to me. But to the Chief, to Gruff, to Yuri, and the whole tribe, basically. I have no doubt for you, my prince,” she mocked with a chuckle, bowing ridiculously in front of him. “Do not taint my title,” Aemond said, a bit frustrated with her childish behaviour yet his words did not scare her, it just made the situation more amusing to her. “You clearly are no fun! But is it true though? Are you actually a prince?” Her bow reaches out to swipe his hair away from his shoulder in which he swats it away with a scowl in his face. “Yes, I am.” 

She snorted. 

“You don’t act like one.” 

Walking away to their horse, Aemond took hold of her with his grip on her arm. 

“Was that supposed to be an insult?”

She snorted once again. Amused with his temper. 

“You tell me,” she cockily said to him before taking her arm away. 

“Besides, I can’t imagine you sitting on a tall palace drinking wine as your servant pour you more into your cup. Whilst you stare down at your people like some kind of god–,”

“–I hate to break your imagination, but I simply do not do that–,”

“–Now you just made me doubt for a second. Maybe you really did do that in your lavish castle,” she teased with a laugh. “And what? You have ten girls surrounding you?” She mocked once more, turning herself to face him as she walked backwards. “If you are asking if I have ten whores, no I do not,” he snarled. “I beg to differ, snow haired. I bet you cuddled with them all day as they fed you the ripest fruit in the realm!” She cackles, throwing her head back as she started to walk side by side with him

“And what of you? You yourself are surrounded by two men,” Aemond bickered back, playing with her games. 

“Gruff and Yuri? You disgust me. They are like brothers to me.”

“But do they see you as a sister?–”

“–Gruff has a wife and Yuri has two children. Do not speak of them that way.” 

Surprisingly, he was satisfied with her answer. 

They walked side by side as the sun shone down on them. 

“But do you actually have maidens by your side?” He heard her ask. 

“Maidens? No, not all the time,” he hummed, his hands behind his back. 

“Not all the time? Then when do you have maidens beside you?”

He knew of the maidens she meant. Not just ordinary girls but women who threw themselves at him. Lovers or mistresses. He recalled one or two. Sylvie and another woman he replaced her with. He doesn’t even know if Alys is considered one. But he didn’t want to admit this to her. And he does not know why. She was just a stupid wildling, why would he care what she thinks of him? She could not change his past and he should not care if it did affect the way she looked at him. But he couldn’t. 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” He instead said, smiling smugly at her. And he swore to the gods he saw a faint of red tint in both of her cheeks. Surely she had them before because of the cold but he could differentiate her usual red cheeks with a woman’s natural blush. “Badly is a strong word. I was just merely curious,” she replied, inserting her arm into her bow. The one eyed prince has a smirk painted on his face as he watches his flustered friend walking ahead of him. It seems he had struck a chord. And he liked it. 

Hunting was a rare activity for him at his youth. His father was too sick to even teach him how to hold a bow and arrow or even a sword. The last time he went hunting was for his ten-and-four nameday. Ser Criston Cole was the one who guided him, Aegon, and Daeron through the woods to catch the biggest boar they could find. Even in that, ser Criston was the one who slew the boar himself for the guard told him that he should not risk himself with hunting since it could put him in risk. 

And now Aemond finds himself hiding between trees and shrubs, sitting close with the she wildling. The others hid in other places around them as the snow fell from the sky, slightly covering the area around them. “Look!” She said, pointing towards a doe, walking curiously around the forest as it sniffs an area uncovered by the light snow. “It should be an easy target,” smirking at the one eyed prince before lending him her bow and arrow. A crossbow, yes he has taken hold of that weapon. But to act as an archer? He is ashamed to admit that he is untalented of that particular skill. “I shall skin the deer–,”

“–No, I want you to do it. Prove to them,” she insisted, nudging his arm with her bow. 

If he lied– no. There is no escape to this. 

“I am untalented with this weapon,” he said, boring his healthy eye onto her eyes that resembled the doe they’re hunting. His heart rate quickened when he didn’t earn an instant answer from her. They were cramped as they hid themselves quietly from their prey. In a swift motion, she positioned herself beside him, guiding his calloused hands to her bow. 

“An untalented can be talented if they try,” she whispered. 

Her whisper was relevant for their situation, yet he felt tiny bumps erupted across his arms. Every word she spoke was like a spell to him, obeying her as he took the bow into his hands. Her small calloused hands guided him to the bow’s grip, close enough for him to feel his cheek pressed to hers. 

“You have your foundations for archery. You just need to take another step further– Keep your grip tight, now pull the string back.”

He did as she told him to. 

Fixing his fingers with hers, calloused and rough that made him want to know every single story behind it. 

He took a deep breath, aiming at their prey. 

“Do not let it slip. Just breathe,” she whispered to him. 

Aemond’s hands were steady, but his pulse hammered like a war drum in his ears.

His bowstring flicked, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he drew the bowstring back, the taut cord singing a soft, tense note. But it hits a tree beside their prey, causing it to flinch and move from its place. 

No, he failed.

“Oi! Catch that deer!” He heard Gruff say from a distance, assuming he said it to the other wildlings that came with, but Aemond wanted to prove himself. He was the one who startled it, letting it run. So he took no choice, leaping from his spot and sprinting to the deer. Startled by a human’s presence, it started to run. But Aemond was close enough to leap and trap the deer with his arms. Tackling it down, he pulled out his dagger. 

Ready to stab his hunt.

But he looked down, finding the doe’s eyes looking up at him with fear. 

It was alive, and it reminded him so much of her. 

Doe. 

He asked himself, why did he become so weak?

Was it grief? Fear? Was it all consuming his bravery?

Or did he just know how to feel once more?

To be alive like he was before they took his eye?

His train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted when an arrow shot through the doe’s body. He looked back, and saw her standing not far from him, lowering down her bow as she saw how distraught he was. She saw through his cowardliness and he was ashamed of it. All this time he thought of her as his prey, someone he could easily devour. But now he was the one who felt powerless. 

He even could not shed a single blood from a doe. 

“You are angry.”

The tent’s flaps were yanked open with a force that sent them flapping wildly against the tent’s sides. Aemond stormed inside as she followed along behind him. His boots pounding the earth with a ferocious rhythm that echoed the thunder of his anger. Each step was a declaration, a defiant stamp that shook through the small, confined space. He grunted, throwing his sword and dagger away. 

“Snow haired–,”

“–Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing at her as he glared the seven hells out of her. 

“Is your temper that short, Aemond?”

“My temper can be as short as I please.”

Ignoring her question, he sits down and looked away at her as he felt so defeated. 

“Then why was it short today? Was it because of the doe?”

“No,” he coldly replied. 

“Then what is it?” She asked again, sitting on the fur covered ground beside him. Then he felt it, her hand placed on his shoulder. “If it is not because of the doe, then what is it?” Her tone is careful and gentle. Aemond forgot the last time someone asked him why he was angry. Not why he did what he did, but why he was angry. He turned his head slightly towards her direction, but not fully showing her his vulnerability. 

“When you first saw me, what was the first word that came to your mind?” 

A comfortable silence. 

A faint laughter of small children bleeding through the tent. 

“Different,” she answered honestly. 

“How so?” He asked, not daring to lock his eye with her. 

“Your hair. It was silver. And your posture, your physique was not big and rough like northerners,” she explained further. “Did I scare you? When we exchanged words in that bridge?” Playing with the dagger he previously tossed away. “I know I should be, and I was at first. I was scared that you would not help me or my people,” she answered again. “But did I– scared you?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, snow hair.”

A chuckle erupted from him. 

A genuine one. 

“It all felt so easy back then. To kill, I mean. I rode Vhagar on dragon back and burned everything to the ground as I please,” he told her, spacing off to a distance recalling his rage and anger throughout the war. “She was my pride and glory— my dragon, Vhagar. The only thing that preserved my identity and power as a Targaryen prince,”

“So you were not a kind prince,” the spearwife pointed out, listening to every word he uttered. 

“I believe so. A war cannot be won merely by someone occupying a position on a council or residing in a castle. It requires more than just strategic planning and oversight from a distance. Someone has to take direct action on the battlefield, face the dangers, and engage in the conflict firsthand. That was the role I had to take on, and I embraced it more than anyone.”

“But it was not a pure act, I must admit. All the bloodshed I have done were sins that I must pay— and I believe the way to pay for my sins were to suffer like them. The Gods kept me alive a little longer for me to endure the torture I have placed upon— innocent lives at war. I suffered when I placed my foot on winterfell. I suffered when I heard of my brother’s death. I suffered when the gods left me to realize that the war was not worth all the pain.”

Throwing his dagger aside, Aemond clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles paling. It was true—he was furious. His anger was directed at his own blind ambition during the war, the realization hitting him with a pang of regret. Everything he had fought for now seemed meaningless, and he was tormented by uncertainty about his family's fate. While he remained free in the wilderness, he could only wonder what had become of them, knowing he had abandoned them in the process.

Where is duty? 

Lost in his own labyrinth of his mind, he didn’t feel her shift. Their arms touched as the wildling leaned on to speak,

“Everyone who took part in a war has ever felt that way, Aemond. They all thought about what-ifs to escape for a moment from their fate. A war must be won one way or another. But even the one who wins made as many sacrifices as you did. You both endured the same grief as the other.— Both spilled as much blood as the other.” 

“But you are still alive now. You might see it as a punishment, but you have a purpose in life.” Placing her palm on his chest. “You are more than just a pawn at war. This place is not your realm anymore. We live beyond the wall and you are free. You are welcome to be anything, for the wilderness does not limit the people.” 

“But what is my purpose if I am not a Targaryen? What is the purpose of being free if I know that the people I love are caged in the walls of—.” He halted, a pregnant pause. 

Aemond swallowed a lump in his throat, desperate for an answer. 

“Then that is your purpose, is it not? You are free so you could rescue your loved ones from misery. To lead my people back into the wall— pass through it and sail your ship home. Save them from their torment. When 5 people are trapped in a cage, without any of them escaping or letting loose from its cage, they would all be trapped in that cage forever. But you— have escaped. You are outside of your cage and it is your mission to find the key and let them all out.” 

As the wildling’s words flowed, a spark of intrigue ignited in the the one eyed prince’s eye. Each carefully chosen phrase seemed to resonate deeply, building a sense of connection and understanding. His posture relaxed and their gaze sharpened with growing admiration. Slowly turning his head to face his now companion. 

“How old are you, wildling?” He asked.

“I just turned twenty years of age. Why do you ask?” 

“I am one year older than you, yet I feel like a boy beside you.” 

She smiled gently at him, letting out a bashful chuckle.

“Your mind is clouded by your emotions. I am sure you are just as intelligent as anyone.” 

The air crackled with a charged tension. The girl and the prince sat close, their proximity amplifying the intensity of their unspoken connection. Shadows danced on the fabric walls as they exchanged glances that lingered longer than usual, each look revealing a flicker of vulnerability and curiosity. The silence between them was thick, filled with an electric anticipation, as if every word they might speak could unravel the depth of their hidden emotions.

“Preserving my identity as a Targaryen means so much more to me than I can imagine,” he whispered.

“Then preserve it. Don’t let it slip away from your grasp.”

Their nose almost touched as Aemond felt his body drawn to her. The way she never felt him lesser, validating his feelings that no one could ever did in his life. Helping him to crawl out from his own darkness. 

Her eyes still reminded him of the doe he failed to kill. He could devour her right now if he wanted, for she was supposed to be his prey and pawn. But something changed within him. He does not wish to over power her. He does not want to exploit her the way he did with the others. She was his prey but he did not want to make her as one.

He refused to kill the doe.

He refused to harm his doe.

His doe.

Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, he sighed. “But I have changed now. I am not the same person I was in the war,” he confessed.

“Then what shall you do about it?” She asked.

Reaching out for his dagger once more, he looked down upon the sharp edge of it. “The Targaryens were identified with its silver hair, and I would like to keep it that way.”

Taking her hand gently in his, he placed the dagger in her palm.

“But I want to leave bad omen from my identity. For I have changed. My hair was long when the war started— and now it has ended. It is time to cut away the man I once was.”

a/n: they’re evolving😈😈😈 STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER🌷✨🎀

[yestrday]

tbh academy harem is alr n all but i would def go to my girlies (lumine, my love 😍)

omg anon you're so right for that 😍😍 lumine will always be the hottest person around swear if i were in this academy id never leave her side

you might like: yandere! genshin academy au + aether

"hmph."

"aether, are you mad."

"hmph."

lumine sighs, biting off the last of her popsicle. the wooden stick reveals the 'win!' carved on it and she hands it out to her twin. "here, you can redeem the gift. just don't be mad at me, ae."

"i don't want your leftovers, lumine." aether still refuses to look at her. "you can take your prize, just like you always do."

she sighs once more as she feels a headache coming on. neither of them were really the type to have inferiority issues, especially when they were mostly equal in every aspect. but as they all say, all good things come to an end, and aether has begun tearing apart their good relationship for his silly nonsense.

"ae, can't you see this as a good thing? the more [your name] spends around me, the more you'll get to hang out with them too. then you can use that as an opportunity to grow close—"

"but they only like you!" he whines, stomping his foot down like a petulant child. "if they do hang out with me then it's only because they want to see you!" lumine's usually cool face quirks into a smile as she watches her brother throw a tantrum. "don't you dare laugh, lu! you think this is funny, don't you?!"

she shrugs. "it's not my fault i'm so damn hot."

"we share the same face!"

she continues to watch aether as he sulks, before she suddenly remembers something. "oh. right. i need to ask one of our upperclassmen to tutor me for the finals." aether glares at her through teary eyes.

"what the hell are you talking about?" he grumps. "we both know you don't need that."

"well, i was thinking of inviting [your name] over to our house for the weekend," lumine starts, feigning innocence. "but if you don't want that then..."

"wait wait wait." aether frantically tries to stop lumine as she twiddles with her hair. "m– maybe i need the refresher too..."

"hm, thought so."

"let's send a selfie to childe while we're at it. he'll be so jealous."

"yeah, let's break his heart even more."

and so the twins continue on their merry way, the bond of blood and shared love repairing their relationship in an instant.

[enkvyu]

cicadas fill in the summer silence as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. you're vaguely aware of your three classmates seated beside you and perhaps it’s because you're caught in the ambiance of a perfect day, but something like sentimentality seeps in.

“today's the kind of day where i’m reminded how important you guys are to me.”

shoko hums, eye trained on her phone. “you’re reminded?”

“you forgot at some point?” gojo adds.

you groan as getou chuckles, the heartfelt speech dying immediately in your mouth. when he lightly presses you to continue, you wave away his feigned interest.

"but i'm curious!”

you jab your finger in shoko and gojo's direction, and the two ignore you as they continue playing multiplayer snake on their nokia 6610s. "blame those two."

getou grins. "if it’s anything, you mean a lot to me too."

you muffle a smile. "i changed my mind, you're the only one that means anything to me."

"fuck, i lost!" gojo exclaims, sliding back into his chair to throw a fit. "but i never lose, how is this possible? you cheated, shoko!"

"don't be a sore loser, that's even worse than being an ordinary loser."

"i wouldn't have lost if you didn't cheat!"

there's a hard glint in shoko's eye. "does that mean what i think it means?"

gojo leans in. "yes. that means another round."

you look over at them unamused. "any second now, yaga is going to walk into this room and complain our ears off for how noisy you two are being."

shoko yawns and you hear beeping as she plunges into another game. "it’s fine, we’ll know when he gets close enough to hear us anyway. he doesn’t walk, that man stomps down the corridor."

"he’s not the only one that’ll complain about the noise. i might join him in a minute if the two of you won’t shut up, it’s too hot for this." getou joins in, but no one pays him any mind.

"you're going down this time, shoko."

"eat my dust."

you catch gojo sparing shoko a quick glimpse before the starting music plays, and watch with interest as they flicker over to her again.

leaning back, you peer at shoko's screen as her desk was closest to yours, and find that she was once again slithering to victory, gobbling every apple she finds in her way. without a doubt, you were sure she would win.

"gojo," getou sighs. "you're really shit at games."

something bumps into shoko's side and she gives it a quick glance to find that it was gojo's elbow.

"sorry, my arm slipped." he says, but the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.

while shoko is not morally-just enough to condemn cheating, she's oddly passionate about games and thus her desire to win fair and square holds back her anger. she lets the action slide without a counterattack although that doesn't stop her from calling gojo trash.

but when gojo kicks the leg of her chair, causing her to fingers to tremble and miss an apple, she glares at him. "you're playing dirty!"

"i have no idea what you mean." gojo sings. "yes, i'm a point ahead! see what happens when you don't cheat, shoko? i guess that's why you have to do it, otherwise you would just lose lose lose all the time!"

you wince.

shoko clenches her phone harder and closes the point difference in a matter of seconds. but that alone is not enough to settle her irritation.

lifting her foot up, she slams her heel down hard on gojo's ankle and he yelps at the pain. "hey! now you're actually cheating!"

"so you admit i wasn't before!"

gojo doesn't answer and blatantly shoves at shoko's chair. she has to use a hand to steady herself, making her lose another apple and mess up her snake's path. in return, shoko hits gojo's face which presses his glasses in.

"hey!"

"you started this." shoko's victorious smile dims when gojo reaches for her phone and she pulls back just in time. "that's not fair!"

"you're only saying that now?" getou observes.

you look at him. "shouldn't we stop them?"

with gojo stretched out, trying to get shoko's phone, it leaves his stomach vulnerable. shoko rams her fingers into his side and he squeals at the sensation.

shoko yells your name over the chaos. "grab him!"

"getou, you have my back, don't you?" gojo says a second later.

the two of you stand instinctively as your names are called, but you both hover around helplessly. it's only when they say your names again, do you move.

gojo makes one more stretch for shoko's phone as you reach for him, only successfully managing to grab onto one of his wrists. it doesn't hold him back though, he still has his other hand after all, and now getou is beside shoko, hands out ready to tickle her.

shoko giggles slightly when getou's fingers meet their target and it might have been an opening if you hadn't clung onto gojo, pulling him back with your entire weight.

"get off me!" he says to you over his shoulder.

you look back, somewhat confused at your own actions. "no?"

shoko pulls back her arm holding her phone, jamming her elbow into getou's chest. though it doesn't hurt, he steps back anyway. "what are we doing?"

the struggle continues for a few seconds more until the classroom door is pulled to the side with a bang and someone steps through.

the shock of the sudden sound makes shoko loosen her grip and gojo catches that weakness. the tips of his fingers barely grazes her phone and with a final push, and an extension of his infinity, he knocks the phone from her hand.

he knocks the phone from her hand, too hard.

you watch in suspended awe as the object flies across the room in a beautiful arc—

"good morning—"

and hits yaga in the face. it rebounds off his cheek and clatters noisily on the ground. shoko ducks down as the three of you freeze in position, picking up her phone and pocketing it safely.

anger makes yaga's head burn bright red. "who did that?"

calmly, you sit back into your chair and hear the sound echo beside you. without saying a word, the three of you point to gojo.

"yaga! in my defence, shoko was cheating!"

you don't need to look to know yaga had crossed the room and landed a solid fist on gojo's head, his quick cry of pain is alone enough.

yaga fixes his sleeves and clears his throat. "are we ready to start class?"

cicadas chirp from outside your window, and the noise drowns into the bustling hum of a familiar routine. yaga picks up a piece of chalk and turns his back to the class, getou tucks away his bangs from getting in his eyes and shoko yawns into her hand. gojo sinks deeper into his chair, sulking, and you know that even without mentioning your appreciation for them, they could feel it just like how you felt theirs.

it surrounds you like the summer humidity.

dialogue prompt taken from going seventeen episode 61. just some quick silly sashisu + reader stuff because i miss them.

[littlereaderxfandoms]

Bring your little to work day

Request (by @eviebuggg): I wanted to request a CG!Hotch x little!reader where the reader comes along to work at the BAU with him (could be for the day, having being busy and bringing them along)! Meeting the other agents and all that ^^ maybe the reader takes an interest in wanting to see what he does (and they try to keep the gruesome pictures away lol!)

CG!Hotch x university!little!reader + BAU team

Summary: Hotch takes you to work with him.

Genre: Fluff (?)

Length: Around 1.5k

A/N: Loved the idea. Cannot say that I love the outcome. Y/N has been used. The reader is a university-going kid. Gender is unspecified.

Hotch had made a nice peaceful morning routine for you that you followed every morning. If you woke up with him, you would quietly follow him around as he made breakfast, otherwise he would wake you up after he made and ate the breakfast himself. This was followed by getting you and himself ready to leave the house. Usually, he would drop you off at your university on his way to work.

But not today. Today was different and you were buzzing with energy which also made the entire morning much more chaotic.

Today was bring your little to work day. This means, you would be going to the BAU with your daddy and you were so excited. Other than JJ being a little herself, who would be bringing her caregiver Will to work, only your Aunt Penny had a little, although he was away for work. So you and JJ were going to be the only littles in today.

“All right. That’s enough.” Hotch said with a stern look as he put the clothes in his hands back into the wardrobe. “If you can’t choose something, I will.”

“But daddy! You said I could choose!” You stomped your foot lightly, pouting at the stern look.

“Yes, but we have a time limit and you can’t seem to be able to choose anything.” Hotch gives you a pointed look, making you deflate a little. He sighs, “How about your favorite teddy hoodie and jeans?”

You nod quickly, “Yes please.”

Hotch kisses your forehead, making you smile, before helping you change.

“Alright, go wait downstairs.” Hotch nudges you towards the door before turning around to change himself. You flop on the couch as soon as you get to the living room, still sleepy from the late night you had because of assignments and studying for upcoming tests.

About 15 minutes later, you were leaving the parking garage of your apartment building, sitting next to Hotch for once as he drove. The ride was filled with music and singing, with Hotch joining in every once in a while on your insistence.

Hotch had to threaten you with the harness before he even parked the car as you tried to open the door before he was done parking the car. The threat did its job and you kept quiet and waited for your daddy to open the door for you.

However, as soon as you walked into the bullpen, you were running over to the group of agents standing around Spencer’s desk.

“Uncle Spencer! Uncle Morgan!” You squealed, just happy to be meeting everyone after weeks.

Spencer was quick to get out of the chair and pick you up before Derek even had a chance to do it. Both of them still grinned, showering you with compliments and questions about how you were doing. Emily and Penelope weren’t far behind, trying to take you away from the guys. But everyone stopped when they heard someone clear their throat, looking towards Hotch, who was standing there with his and your bag, a stern look on his face.

“Y/n.” That one word was enough for Spencer to put you down on your feet again and for you to look down and avoid eye contact. “What’s rule number one when leaving home?”

“No running away…” You mumble, still not looking up.

Hotch comes closer, lifting your chin to meet your gaze, “And what did you do as soon as the elevator doors opened?”

“Run off…” You sigh, knowing you might be in trouble, and for good reason.

“This is your final warning. If you run off or try to run off again, the harness is going on.” Hotch let go of your face, kissing your forehead as if it would soothe the stern tone of his warning. Not going to lie, it did.

“Yes, daddy.” You nod quickly, not wanting to get in trouble and especially not wanting the harness.

“Harness?” Derek asked, making you pout and hug your daddy, burying your face in his chest for comfort.

“Yeah, I got her one of those kids harness thingys. She kept running off whenever we were at the park and I just had enough.” Hotch shrugs, rubbing your back gently to help you stay calm.

“Ah…That’s a good idea. Although, considering you are using it as a threat means she doesn’t like it?” You heard Spencer.

“Not one bit.” You replied, burying your face further into Hotch’s chest, making him chuckle while the others laughed or smiled.

The rest of the morning was spent with the others working at their desks and you in Hotch’s office, helping him with delivering files when you were playing games on your phone or sitting in Hotch’s lap, just cuddling him.

Derek took you to McDonald’s to get lunch for everyone, and the entire ride was spent singing loudly. And after the amazing lunch, it was time for your nap time and you were quick to claim your daddy’s lap as your napping spot. Hotch couldn’t help but smile at this, loving the cuddles.

However, when you woke up, you were alone in his office, on the couch with a throw blanket covering you. A quick peek outside the window confirmed that the others were in the room with the round table. You took a moment to think about what to do before making your way to the room with the round table, using your blanket to cover you, wanting to see what their work was like.

You tried to be sneaky as you stood outside the room for a bit and tried to listen in but that failed soon enough for a couple of reasons. First, you couldn’t really understand much in your little mindset, and second, the door was opened by your daddy who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Hi daddy…” You gave Hotch the most innocent look you could muster, making him shake his head with the chuckle.

“No more eavesdropping little one.” Hotch says as he lets you in, guiding you to one of the chairs on the side of the room.

“Wanna see what you do daddy!” You wiggle, excited again.

“Yes, and you can sit there,” Hotch gave you a pointed look, making it clear you were to stay on the chair, “and listen to us discuss the case.”

“Okay!” You squeaked, wiggling a little in your seat.

The team proceeded to discuss the case, however, there was nothing on the big screen and everyone kept looking at their tablets while talking in more advanced vocabulary so you wouldn’t be able to keep up.

This made you frustrated about not understanding and curious about what they were looking at. You chose to stick to the curiosity as you slowly rolled your chair closer to the table, trying to peek at the tablets.

However, your plan failed as Hotch turned the tablet away at the last second, not letting you get a chance to see the tablet, making you whine before you saw the pointed look you were getting. You spent the rest of your time in that room facing the corner.

Thankfully, you were let out after the meeting ended and the others returned to their desks with Hotch taking you back to his office. However, you ended up in the bullpen after a bit as you got bored of staying in the office while Hotch was in an online meeting.

It didn’t take long for the bullpen to turn into chaos as you kept trying to look into files and the others kept taking them away, trying to keep the gruesome pictures away from your innocent gaze. It only stopped after Rossi came out of his office and threatened you with the corner and told your daddy on you, making you pout.

The rest of the work day was spent with you being entertained with different magic tricks that Spencer knew and trying to make a mug cake in the break room microwave with Derek and Emily. Penelope gave you a lollipop before she left to pick up her little one from the airport. JJ and Will left not long after Rossi stopped you from looking in files.

“Y/n. Spencer.” Hotch called out, stepping out of his office, and making the two of you look up. “Spencer, I’ve told you not to do those tricks here. That rocket thing could hurt someone.”

“Sorry Hotch.” Spencer shot Hotch with a sheepish smile.

“And Y/n, come on, you need to pack up your things so we can go home.” Hotch prompted, making you pout as you went up the step, dragging your feet.

You were all packed up and ready to go home in about 10 minutes, letting Hotch carry your bag as you went around the bullpen, giving goodbye hugs to everyone. Derek picked you up as you hugged him, turning away from Hotch.

“I’m kidnapping her Hotch!” Derek exclaimed, tickling you a little, making you squeal and giggle.

“Absolutely not. Give me my baby Derek.” Hotch spoke with a fake stern tone. “Before you end up having to do reports from everyone while we have a dinner at Rossi’s.”

Derek was quick to turn back around and put you to your feet near Hotch at the threat, making you giggle and the others laugh and encourage him to kidnap you.

After a few more hugs, you were back on your way home, falling asleep in the car with a single thought in mind.

Daddy’s work is so fun, I need to hang out there more.

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Somebody is attacking members of the Federation of Heroes, and Cellbit is, for once, not the killer

(TW: Blood, Self Harm [by technicality])

----

Cellbit first hears about the attacks from Bagi while they're getting lunch together for the first time in almost a month.

"I've just been so busy," she sighs. She looks about one insult away from slamming Cellbit's face into the table, and she looks about one wet piece of lettuce away from slamming her own face into her salad.

Cellbit hums in response. He's been busy, too. Not with police work, but photo editing is fucking hard, okay? Especially when your apartment is a fucking war zone thanks to yet another patented Richarlyson Temper Tantrum.

Only a little annoyed, Cellbit pokes at his barbecue hard enough with his fork to scrape it against the plate.

Bagi scowls and kicks Cellbit underneath the table.

Cellbit kicks Bagi back, with purpose.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, stomping down hard on his foot.

Cellbit responds by snatching her glass of water from next to her plate and turning it over above her salad.

"What?" Cellbit casually asks as Bagi starts visibly shaking with rage. "At least I'm not stabbing you this time."

"You-" Bagi cuts herself off with a frustrated groan.

She reaches across the table and steals his plate; he lets her, the meat is a bit too well-done for his tastes.

Cellbit leans back in his seat and watches her stab into the barbecue with the rage of a goddamn beast.

"Aren't you vegan?" he asks her.

"Fuck you," she tensely responds. "I don't have the patience for this today. Between you and those fucking- the Federation, I'm going to lose it."

Cellbit tenses at the mention of the Federation- the Federation of Heroes: Q City's defense against supervillains and petty criminals alike, the unofficial backer of the city's educational system and the police force and the courts, and Cellbit's unrequited worst enemy.

His nose wrinkles in distaste. "What do they want?"

"What don't they want?" Bagi sighs. "I don't see why they need us to solve this if they're in charge of literally every superhero in the city. It's just a couple of assault cases, that's it."

...Ah.

Casually- oh, so casually, Cellbit rolls his eyes and cracks a grin.

"What, is someone going around and beating up Federation guys again?" he asks. "I thought Enigma was dead."

Bagi nods, annoyance written all across her face in big red letters. "He is, I was there when he died! But freaking Foolish-"

"Oh, God, Foolish is on this case?"

"The Federation requested him specifically, but he's like-" (She screws her voice up into something approximating her coworker's.) "'Oh, no, Bagi! It's the dead guy assaulting all these Federation guys!' Like? Enigma is dead, how the hell is he still getting assault charges?"

Cellbit shrugs. "You know how Foolish is. He's probably still pissed about never actually getting to figure out Enigma's secret identity. He's just salty."

"Yeah, well. Whatever."

"Whatever," Cellbit echoes.

Bagi, somehow, looks much closer to death. She looks tired, but that's just what happens when you're stuck dealing with Cucurucho for an extended period of time; Cellbit swears he only gets sleep when Cucurucho is out of the city on official Federation business.

Now, Cellbit should probably be grilling his sister for more information. Any enemy of the Federation of Heroes is a friend of his, and he's got some contacts that he might want to hook this mystery person up with.

But.

Smile softening just slightly, Cellbit asks, "How has Empanada been? Is she doing better at this new school?"

Bagi's entire being brightens up, and she starts talking about her daughter's first day at her new school and how Empanada had the best time and how the school is actually accommodating for her disabilities and how... Well, Cellbit stops listening after a couple of minutes while he starts thinking about his own child.

Oh, Richarlyson.

He's so grounded.

-

But, funnily enough, it's while he's walking Richarlyson to school a week later that Cellbit finds the first official murder victim of Bagi's mystery assaulter.

"Oh," says Cellbit, looking down at the corpse lounging in front of his apartment building surrounded by its own brains and blood.

He blocks Richarlyson from following him out the door, much to Richarlyson's annoyance.

"What is it?" Richarlyson asks, squirming and trying to slip under Cellbit's arm. "I wanna see!"

"I think your other dads would kill me," Cellbit replies. He glances over his shoulder and down. "Can you go get my camera for me? I'll let you carry it to school."

Eyes widening excitedly, Richarlyson turns on his heel and bolts up the stairs.

As soon as he's gone, Cellbit looks back at the corpse.

It isn't a particularly good corpse. It's... messy. Too many wounds, too random. Skull fracture and cave-in seems accidental based off the location of the fracture and the location of the body; the killer probably smashed the victim's head against the building's railing and killed them just like that.

It's early in the morning. Early enough that Cellbit's street is basically empty; the Favela isn't really ever quiet, but people are smart enough to stay off the streets from sundown until sun-up. And the Federation of Heroes isn't dumb enough to try putting cameras up in a place like the Favela; it'd be a waste of money with how many times they'd have to replace them all.

So nobody is there to watch as Cellbit crouches next to the corpse and sticks a finger in the puddle of blood.

(Water holds memories, and blood is ninety-two percent water, so...)

The blood ripples like a lake after a stone was tossed into it, waves moving from Cellbit's finger outwards.

And then-

"Pai! I got it!"

Cellbit swiftly stands and turns and hides his hand in his coat pocket and smiles a thanks at Richarlyson. Damnit.

"Did you remember to lock the door behind you?" Cellbit asks.

He tries to block the view of the corpse again, but Richarlyson just barely manages to squeeze past him and out the door.

Cellbit sighs, "Don't tell your Pai Pac I let you see this. He'll kill me."

Richarlyson stares down at the body, frozen in shock.

Well. At least he isn't screaming?

Cellbit slings his camera bag over his shoulder and pulls his camera out. He's got work to do.

"Why do their brains look like that?" Richarlyson asks, nose wrinkled. "Gross."

"Brains don't look like they do in the movies," Cellbit explains, moving past Richarlyson and turning his camera on. He points it at the corpse's face, and he clicks the button. "They're a lot more... gooey. Not as solid as you'd think. It's mostly just the skull keeping them together."

"Really?"

"No, this is just kind of fucked up."

Richarlyson sits on the steps, arms crossed across his knees. He watches Cellbit work, not as disturbed as Cellbit thought he'd be. But, well, he is Richarlyson. He's seen worse than loose brains and a bit of blood. This is nothing.

"I think I know them," Richarlyson says after a bit.

Cellbit glaces up at him, camera focused on the bloody railing.

Richarlyson thinks some more, and then he nods. "Yeah, okay, so I don't know them, but I know their face! They were on the news last week! Super Hamster!"

Super... oh, right. Super Hamster, one of the Federation's newest recruits. Super low-ranked hero who spends their patrols getting cats out of trees and doing battle with a similarly low-ranked villain named Mongoose Man. Kind of stupid, but in a dumb college student way. Weird interviews. Weirder costume.

Cellbit lowers his camera and looks the corpse in the face. Super Hamster wore a mask over their eyes, but the cheeks and chin look the same...

Oh. Oh no.

God. Damnit.

-

Okay, so.

So.

Once upon a time, there was a supervillain named Enigma. He was a bit of a serial killer, but he only attacked and killed those affiliated with the Federation of Heroes: office workers, doctors, weapons suppliers. Heroes.

He did this for years. He founded the Order of Villains alongside fellow villains: the Demon and Crow Man. He killed dozens upon dozens of people, took down seemingly-endless numbers of rookie and professional heroes alike, made himself a reputation as the worst villain Q City had ever known.

And then he died.

There was an explosion during a chase he and the Federation's Sharkboy were involved in. Sharkboy was sent into early civilian retirement. Enigma was sent to his grave.

But.

Cellbit slinks his way down the alley with his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He's wearing sunglasses and a black surgical mask leftover from the last time Richarlyson was sick, and his hair is mostly hidden under a borrowed baseball cap.

Recently, according to both Bagi and the evening news, people seem to think that Enigma has done the impossible and risen from the grave. Somehow.

The thing is, the new guy doesn't kill the same way that Enigma did. Enigma used weapons the color of fresh blood. All reports from surviving victims of "Enigma" mention someone with a black sword and-slash-or a steel baseball bat.

Honestly? Cellbit wishes this new killer all the luck in the world. Going up against the Federation is risky business; that's why Cellbit retired in the first place: his family was at risk.

But, really, Cellbit can't have the rumors about Enigma's return continue to go around. They're making everyone pay too much attention to everyone else, and Cellbit really doesn't like getting stared at.

He really, really doesn't like getting stared at by Pac of all people.

So. For Pac's sake, and for Pac's sake only, Cellbit is on the prowl tonight. He's been studying up on the assault cases that Bagi has been investigating, and he's determined that nearly all of the assaults happened within a three-block circumference of the Federation's main building downtown. The outlier so far is Super Hamster, who was apparently Cellbit's upstairs neighbor before their death.

So. Downtown.

Cellbit doesn't have much on him. He has his phone and wallet, and he has a pocketknife and a pocket first aid kit. He's wearing gloves to hide his fingerprints, and because he knows better than to make skin-to-skin contact with an unknown super. (Because the new guy is a super, Cellbit can just tell; who else would have the balls to fight other supers hand-to-hand?)

And, of course, he has his camera. He needs to get proof for Pac, and then he'll get Pac to deliver the pictures to the right people.

Enigma might be dead, but "Enigma" would fit right in with the Order of Villains.

Cellbit steps out of the alley and looks up at the imposing Federation building rising above the buildings around him. It's big and white and glowing and shaped like the letter 'F' and it's fucking ugly, but it's also absolutely terrifying.

("Dispose of him.")

A helicopter lands on the Federation building's roof. Cellbit hopes it fucking crashes after takeoff.

With a sigh, Cellbit turns on his heel and starts down the street towards the building. He looks suspicious as hell, but he also has his P.I.'s license in his wallet if he needs to pull it out.

(He may not be an investigator anymore, but the license doesn't expire for another couple of years. Thanks, Federation!)

There's an itch on the back of Cellbit's neck. A mosquito, probably; it's summer, unfortunately.

Cellbit raises his hand to swat the bug away.

He blinks, and there's a figure in front of him standing beneath a streetlight in all black: hoodie, cargo shorts, what are probably athletic leggings beneath them, gas mask, and- for some reason- a medieval-style cloak with the hood pulled up.

Their hand rests on a sword hung on their side.

Cellbit doesn't so much as blink. Interesting outfit; the gas mask is a nice touch. Probably hiding a voice modulator inside it.

The sword almost seems to sing with all the blood coating it. Fresh blood, still dripping.

Slowly, Cellbit lowers his hand.

"Hey," he lamely says. "Nice cloak."

The killer's head slowly tilts to one side.

A deep, gravelly, very artificial-sounding voice drawls out, "You are not one of theirs."

Oh, so the killer is a nerd. That's cool. They'll fit in great with the Order.

Cellbit shakes his head. "No. I'm not. I'm on your side, actually. I'm just-"

The killer laughs, long and drawn out and painful sounding.

They shake their head slowly. "Don't fuck with me. No one is on my side."

Oh, so the killer is a depressed nerd. Who has obviously read a few too many comic books with how they're talking.

"No," Cellbit quickly says, "but I am. I hate those guys!"

The killer is silent. Still.

Cellbit watches them just stand there.

Swallowing a lump of anticipation in his throat, Cellbit continues:

"The Federation sucks. Everyone who works for it, or with it, deserves to die. I agree with you! But you-"

He cuts himself off with a gasp of pain as the killer vanishes in front of him and as a sharp blade stings along his ribcage from behind.

"Shit!" the killer snaps, voice modulator staticking in panic.

Cellbit staggers forward and throws himself onto the ground, careful not to crush his camera back. His sunglasses come flying off, but fuck them, he stole them, anyway.

His hand flies to his side, and it comes away bloody.

He grins. Perfect.

The killer lunges at him with his sword, aiming right for Cellbit's chest, but-

Cellbit raises his hand to catch the sword, hissing as the blade sinks into the palm of his hand. It cuts right through his glove like it was made of butter, but fuck the gloves, he stole them, anyway.

The killer freezes, confused as Cellbit drags his hand up the length of the blade. His blood drips down onto his hoodie, staining it dark.

"I told you," Cellbit growls, clenching his hand down and grinning. "I'm on your side."

And then Cellbit jerks his hand back and rolls to the side, narrowly dodging a stab to the chest. He raises his hand just in time for the blood running down his arm to ripple and start running backwards.

The killer must catch the movement, because they swing their sword towards Cellbit's wrist. Smart thought, but too late.

Steel clashes against iron with sparks and nausea as the killer's blade meets Cellbit's own.

Vaguely, Cellbit can see the killer's eyes widen through the goggles of their mask.

Cellbit swallows down a fever as he pulls the blood off of his hoodie and forms it into a tiny buckler shield. (If this other guy wants to go medieval, so will Cellbit.)

And then he pushes upwards with his blood sword with all his strength, forcing the killer to take a step backwards to keep themselves from falling on their ass.

"The cameras in this part of the city don't work," Cellbit breathes, pushing himself to his feet and desperately trying not to collapse under the weight of his own being. "You know this, but how? Only the Federation knows. They planned it this way. Job security."

"How do you know, culero?" the killer snaps.

They spin their sword once, look Cellbit over, and freeze.

Cellbit frowns. Just like before...

But then what happened before was-

Eyes widening in realization, Cellbit ducks to the side, just barely getting grazed by a sword skimming across the back of his neck.

The killer groans and tries again, this time catching the meat of Cellbit's bicep.

Cellbit groans, but he forces his blood to push the sword out of his body. It does so with a little protest, too weak to do much, but it manages.

"Enigma," the killer breathes. "You're supposed to be dead, man!"

"I am," Cellbit lowly says.

He hunches over slightly, more than a little out of practice. He holds his shield in front of himself, his sword quivering and at the ready.

"This is great!" the killer excitedly says. "Now that I know it's you..."

They lower their sword and sheathe it, practically bouncing on their toes. Their eyes glitter behind their mask, but they betray nothing.

"...we can team up!" they finish.

They reach a hand out.

Cellbit steps back warily. He holds his sword level with the killer's throat; it drips onto the sidewalk, blood splattering everywhere.

"I'm dead," Cellbit snaps. "You weren't supposed to even see me tonight! I just- oh, fuck."

He groans as a wave of heat washes over him. Pre-faint symptoms, he's close. He used to be better at this, fuck.

He staggers, both his sword and shield splashing onto the ground as he loses his hold over their forms. He braces himself against a streetlight, the same one he first saw the killer under, and he tries not to vomit.

The killer rushes towards him, gloved hands hesitating awkwardly next to his shoulders.

"You okay?" the killer asks. Even through their modulator, they sound concerned. Okay.

"I'm fine," Cellbit wheezes. He waves them off with a glare. "You just- I need proof. That it isn't me this time."

The killer stops breathing. They stop breathing for a long time.

And then they're next to Cellbit rather than in front of him holding his camera.

Cellbit's eyes widen. "Hey, no! Put that back!"

"Relax," the killer says, smile evident in their voice. "I'm getting you proof."

Cellbit's head spins. He hears the camera snap, and then he's on the ground. Oooohh, he's out of practice. (But isn't that a good thing?)

Another camera snap, and he's dry heaving. He hasn't eaten enough to be able to actually throw up anything, but his body sure wants him to try.

"Shit, hold on!" the killer exclaims, and then Cellbit knows nothing.

-

He wakes up to the familiar sound of the beeping of a heart monitor. There's a familiar alien sensation in his arm- I.V. drip, okay.

Okay, he's at the hospital.

Eyes flickering open, Cellbit lets out a sigh. Bagi is going to hate this.

"Fuck," he sighs, staring up at the ceiling.

Once upon a time, Enigma was the most feared villain in the city. But then he got a son, and he found his long-lost twin sister, and he realized that dying either from blood loss or from Federation execution wasn't the ending he wanted anymore. He wanted to live, and so Enigma had to die.

Cellbit hasn't passed out from blood loss since he was just starting out as a villain. It's been almost a decade since then, and he's definitely lost his touch. But that's for the better, really. He doesn't need to use his powers for that kind of stuff anymore. He can heal his son's wounds. He can read the lives of the deceased.

...Or, he would if he could.

He's startled out of his thoughts as someone comes into his room with an armload of vending machine snacks.

"Oh!" the new person exclaims, eyes widening. "You're alive!"

Cellbit doesn't know this person, but he thinks that he wants to.

"Who are you?" Cellbit croaks. "What happened?"

He was with the killer... and then he passed out... and...

"Oh, yeah, so I was walking home from work, and I found you all bloody and passed out on the sidewalk," the man explains.

He sits in the chair by Cellbit's bed, and then he dumps his snacks on the bed and lets out a sigh.

"I'm glad you're okay," he continues. "I was seriously worried."

Cellbit blinks. He's tired, God.

"My camera?" he asks.

"Over there," the man replies. He points towards the other side of the room with his head. "That Hombre Misterioso left it behind when he saw me there."

Cellbit frowns. "Hombre...?"

"Hombre Misterioso. The guy killing all those Federation workers? Apparently, he took a bunch of pictures of himself and managed to send them to the police. That's what they're calling him."

Cellbit's brain ticks away. "Doesn't that just mean 'mysterious guy' in Spanish?"

"Ay, you know Spanish?" The man grins. "That's cool!"

"I'm Brazilian," Cellbit murmurs, not really answering.

He gives the man an appraising look: brown hair, soft looking; dark eyes, glittering; red t-shirt, form-fitting; blue bandana, goofy. Biceps.

The man catches his gaze and winks.

"I'm Roier," he says.

Cellbit gives up on his analyzing; he'll get back to it when he isn't still so drained from losing so much blood.

"Cellbit," he replies. "Thank you for saving me."

"Nah, it's nothing."

(Roier's smile is sharp-toothed and positively breathtaking [or maybe that's just the blood loss talking.])

"Thank you for waking up."

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know if you liked this and if you want to see more by reblogging, commenting, sending asks, etc! Let me know what you liked!

[yanderenightmare]

literally anything with nasty nasty nasty Shigaraki and Dabi fucking anything they can get ahold of PLEEASE

BNHA ! THIRST

SHIGARAKI x darling x DABI

TW: NSFW, anal, oral, virgin reader, degradation, bondage, misogyny, double-penetration, a couple of empty death-threats, they’re both really mean and nasty in this

Just thinking about Dabi and Shiggy fighting over which hole is better…

Both agree that it depends on the bitch.

For example, if she’s feisty or prissy – Shigaraki tends to go for a nice deep ass-fuck to put her in her place. Because nothing breaks a bitch faster than breaking in her tightest hole – and taking an ass is like telling a stupid slut she belongs to him. Because bending a whore over makes her thoroughly understand, without any room to disagree, that whatever she was, whatever she might have been before becoming his, now means nothing – because now she’s his filthy fucktoy– and his fucktoys live to please him – and a fucktoy’s own pleasure means nothing.

He enjoys seeing her fingers sprout before curling in on themselves, wrists wringing in their bonds, forming firm fists splitting her palms on her nails where she digs them in deep – while he warms himself with that tight hole that tries hard to keep him out, only to tense up and grip him even tighter when he starts to pull out. 

He’ll look at her pretty face as it twists in pain and panting, biting the pillow as he sinks inside with a smile on his face. Mounting her while she has her ass raised for a pounding and her head down in a bow with her wrists tied to each ankle. Slapping his heavy ball sack against her ignored cunt as it begins to weep for some attention.

He'll shove in deeper for every thrust as though he’s blowing out a tunnel one heavy dig at a time until he’s all the way through. Letting drool fall from his tongue to where he watches himself disappear, fucking his own spit inside with a grunt – speeding up with another groan at the sight of her ass wiggling when smacking brutally against his hips, hitting her fast and hard from behind while his hands bury into the plush domes with only one pinky raised.

If she mouths off, he’ll place a foot on her face and stomp her down with a series of slaps to her ass until all she can mouth is but pretty pitiful pleas, muffled into the mattress, while her hole starts to squelch – fucked open and surrendering to his size. 

He'll flip her over then – have her on her back missionary style. Watching her soaking cunt beg for some love – splitting a grin while granting none of it other than a mean slap to make her seize up and squeeze him even harder. He’ll watch her titties bounce with each deep thrust while she wears his hand like a collar – enjoying how that once defiant look turns to chagrin before further devolving into true humility – watching her tongue loll out as she pants like a bitch in heat for him – looking a happy mess getting fucked hard up her ass.

A bitch becomes submissive fast when he leaves their butt gaping. After taking him balls-deep and raw, emptying his thick load inside her and leaving it to trickle out the slowly closing cavity – going cold as it drips down to those puffy glossy pussylips, left stinging in the chilly air, welted by the cruel slaps given it by his hand. 

She goes especially meek and sweet for him if he yanks her hair and fucks her face afterward – making her gluck around the fatness while steadily bumping against the back of her throat – telling her to lick up all the sticky cum and swallow, slapping her face with its heavy weight while it slowly grows limp in satisfaction. 

A slut is best tamed when left unable to walk – when made to crawl on all fours – with an ass marred and marked by tough handprints and spotted rings where he’s bitten into it to make her scream.

That’s Shiggy's point of view, at least.

But Dabi disagrees…

He thinks there’s no better way to dominate a brat than by making her twitch with pleasure in spite of herself – by making her soak his cock with shame while pretty tears run down bloated cheeks as she pitiful shakes her head in whines and choked moans – aimlessly trying to deny she likes it despite kissing his fat cock with flutters and milking him tight for cum – visibly thankful to be treated like a sweet and silly breeding-toy. 

Anyone can fuck a bitch, but not many can make her like it. Because making a silly slut enjoy it is true domination. 

An art form Dabi has thoroughly mastered.

He’ll laugh at her in soft demeaning chuckles, keenly watching her sink guilty teeth into her bottom lip with thighs quaking as he roughly fans through her slit with gritty fingertips, flicking over her clit until she bursts and wets the sheets – ripping that moan so sweetly wet with defeat from her when sheathing himself back inside her again, now into walls tensed up with orgasm, somehow even deeper than before – tired from keeping him out – stormed into surrender, allowing him to sink all the way inside, nudging tight and right against her womb. 

A slut is so cute like that. After he’s proved that she’s but a needy carnal thing in desperate need of some good fucking. When he’s rubbed her clit for so long, she’s gone numb and tingly – with hooded eyes blinking up at him so softly, resting sweetly in the palm of his hand while he slowly fucks into the puff of her wet warmth suckling him in all manners of gratitude.

That’s a housebroken pet in Dabi’s definition – a sweet thing who’s thankful for what he gives her – one who’s so blissful, overrun with pleasure, she moans out an ever so adorable thank you despite having her wrists tied tight behind her back – one who willingly drops her jaw open to receive his spit with a moan, swallowing so sweetly before opening her mouth up again. Pink love hearts pumping in her eyes.

A good submissive thing who prettily kneels at his feet, tongue rolled all the way out like a welcome mat, hungry for the cum he pours onto it – preciously sucking his cockhead clean afterward, kissing it with spit-slicken lips sticking to it in glistering bridges.

He enjoys that sweetly compliant look on a cute slut’s face – eyes doe-like and sparkling, cheeks swelled with the dew of sweat, tears, and cum – soothing words of devotion on her plump and pretty lips that kiss on his scars. 

It’s the type of shit that makes him feel complete.

Shigaraki can agree with him on that part. 

It’s nice to get a little comfort, but only if the tiny thing is cute enough. If she flinches in fear with shy eyes fluttering – anxious to even look up at him. If she spreads her legs and shows him her pretty clitty on nothing more but his say-so, offering herself in hopes he’ll be kind. 

He enjoys driving a scaredy-cat crybaby like that over the edge – making her go cross-eyed and whiney, trembling beneath him with pretty tits strutting out tender and sore, shaking as he forces her over the brink yet again – splitting her mind apart the same way her cunt stretches over his fat veins.

Licking the tear stains off her cheeks with his teeth and tongue as he makes her hop like a bunny in his lap, whispering hotly upon the shell of her ear that he’ll turn her pretty body into a sorry pile of dust if she doesn’t hop a little faster and moan a little loader for him – wrapping both arms around her waist, drumming dry fingertips upon her hips in ever so ticklish threats while feeling her cunny clench him harder in return.

He enjoys watching his fingers bring a girl to her end in different ways than the usual one. Rubbing into her clit to make her pout and buck her hips or twisting a little nipple to see her gasp and whine. Putting his digits down her throat to shut her up, making her suck on them, worship them in hopes he won’t use them to hurt her.

Dabi likes doing that too – to make little threats with heated fingertips stroking over terribly sensitive skin, whispering at her softly that he’ll burn some notches into her if she does anything but be a sweet obedient cock-sleave for him. He’ll smile, kiss her a bit once she starts bleating – chanting in warm ticklish breaths, warning her of how it’s way worse than having a cigarette put out on her skin and that it’ll leave a mark that won't ever quite heal – so she should really do her best to make him happy before his patience runs thin.

They both love how a girl begs – how she clings around his neck and rubs herself into him for comfort, promising him that she’ll do whatever he says. 

But some sluts need no threats to play nice. Some sluts need no convincing. Especially dumb ones. Those who walk around in wet panties and giggle at the sight of a jumping cock. Those masochistic braindead things who happily accept a feral night of being treated like nothing but a blow-up doll. 

They’ll enjoy a silly slut with no sense of self-worth like that every now and again, but both agree it becomes a little tedious after a while. 

After all, it’s most fun when there’s a little fight in her. Like those bitches and brats who glare at them with defiant eyes – those they can really enjoy forcing onto their knees.

Oh- that and virgins…

Not that a virgin has so much fight in her per se, but she’s just so cutely unwilling and shy that it becomes fun to watch her struggle – so adorable, pleading with them as though they give a shit that she’s been saving herself for someone special. Asking them to be gentle, to give her a moment, to wait.

It’s the way she seizes up and ripples around the stretch – unsure whether she likes it or not and further unsure if she should be enjoying it even though it hurts a little. How she preciously begs them to use a condom, shaking her head with a pout when feeling that ruining warmth fill her up for the first time. Pitifully whimpering all cute as they fuck their cum into her.

And further flicking her clit to make her swell up on the inside before gushing on them. Shigaraki grins like none other when making an innocent cutie cum on his cock as he drives it up raw, buried deep between her soft thighs with her precious moaning face squeezed tight between four fingers – her own panties stuffed in her mouth, keeping her soft, mewing for him while sucking on her own sweetness as she soaks his cock with virgin juices so sweet and luscious – trembling on him with delightful orgasmic shivers that pleasure his cock so snug.

But it’s not only her cunt that deserves a good ruining… A virgin deserves cum in all her holes on her first time – that’s why they tag-team. Sweet and pretty virgins who barely even know how to touch themselves.

Sweet and pretty virgins like you.

You don’t want anything inside you, but silly little virgins like you don’t have a choice. Their meat is going inside you every which way, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. They’re going in, and they’re going in sweet and deep in all your tight holes to fill you up with thick heavy cream until you can’t remember a feeling unlike it – until you don’t know anything but what their sweetly salty acid tastes like.

“She sweet?” Dabi asks, holding a stitched hand in your hair – woven between your soft locks as he shoves his cock in and out of your open and struggling mouth – smiling some at how your tongue curls, unsure of where to place itself when his length takes up all the space.

“Like ripe fruit,” Shigaraki answers in a muffled groan, his mouth on your slit, sliding his tongue through the folds in ticklish kitten licks with two of his fingers kneading knuckle-deep in your pussy, twisting about themselves to explore your squishy wet insides while you worm beneath him – hips shaking at the foreign intrusion as you whimper around the thickness in your mouth.

“You’re terrible at this….” Dabi chuckles, fingering your hair to hold you steady, fucking into the pocket of your cheek, watching it bulge from the inside out – his other hand twisting and pulling on your chest, rubbing your poor nipple into a firm nub between rough fingertips. “Don’t worry your pretty head, though- I’ll teach you to be a good cum-swallowing slut in no time~”

Shigaraki curls his digits – you moan, and they laugh – and Dabi shoves in deeper until you scream for air around him while Shigaraki holds your budding clit between lips and teeth, softly gnawing on it to make you squirm – and then his fingers disappear, dripping with slick, leaving your hole fluttering on something that seems to rivet your entire body – leaving you shivering in soft numb fuzzy warmth.

And then his fingers come back, only now prodding your other hole – his mouth chuckling hot breaths on your drippy cunt, enjoying the way you shake in the aftershocks while he skewers one long finger inside your tight ass. Biting his lip at how your firmness clenches around him in a pulse – his cock rising with seeking ambition, impatiently awaiting the feel of that tautness on himself.

You whine as he starts messaging your insides, gasping with a yelp when another finger joins the first. You feel the warmth of his spit smear your cheeks before being fucked into you, squishy with squelches, while you loosen up and start accepting the way he aims to slide them in and out – pounding the sore soft hole until it simply gapes open.

“There you go, good anal-slut~ open up wide for me~” Shigaraki teases, giving your hip a slap. Burying his hands in your plush domes, he spreads you wide and takes a dive with his tongue first – eagerly slurping both your stretched holes, from your dripping pussy over your taint to mouth kisses to your puckering butthole – both places loose and ready for their thick meat. “It’s time.”

Dabi grins, popping his cockhead from the corner of your mouth – slapping the spit-dripping heaviness on your face. “You ready to lose your purity, little slut?” He taunts, jerking his meat against the softness of your dewy face. “I’m gonna fill your little virgin womb up with my filthy cum until you start to bulge.”

You cry at the promise in his threat while Shigaraki slides his cock between your asscheeks, fucking the plush crack with fingers curling around the small of your waist – digging his fingertips into you with greed, only his pinkies raised while he pulls you closer.

Dabi holds you at the hips, tugging you onto his lap – his wet cock slicking your belly while your tits strut forth, pretty and perky above him – one of Shigaraki's hands slithers about your waist to grope one of them, making you gasp before you choke on the sound – forced down on both cocks breaking in your holes, stretching you so bad tears immediately well, coming pouring down in fat streams.

“Please- ah- please.” You wince, but none of them listen. 

Shigaraki grabs the rope that ties your wrists together at the small of your back and pushes you down until your face squishes against Dabi’s chest, where he begins to patronize you in soft coos and shushes.

“Don’t fuss, baby virgin.” He soothes in a softly dark murmur, feeling you clench – gripping the veins of his cock while he forces himself in deeper. “Milk me for cum like a grateful slut, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

You shudder at the stretch, feeling close to tearing – while Shigaraki sinks inch by inch inside your narrow butt with a hand holding you down, keeping you bent over with your ass up to receive him. He hisses at how you clutch him in a chokehold, trying so hard to keep him out only to take him balls-deep with his heavy ballsack smudged tight against the puff of your pussy where Dabi soon has himself swallowed down to the hilt.

You whine openmouthed and loudly once Shigaraki starts to drag himself out again, holding onto his cock tightly in fluttering spasms. “You’re moaning like a real anal-slut now~ happy for a big cock in your ass~” He laughs, lolling only the tip of himself inside your open hole – dipping inside it in shallow fucks to make you wider.

Gleefully watching your face twist in pain, with spit and tears wetting your mouth, drooling onto Dabi’s chest as he keeps himself nice and warm, stored all the way up to your cervix – his cockhead giving it a tight and painful kiss, nudging against it in a way it feels as though he might break through into your stomach – his long cock so big it has to bend inside your cunt for all of it to fit, making your back want to arch – though kept in a pretty slope by the hand pushing you down flat while they stretch and fuck your holes with sadistic smiles glistening on their sharp teeth.

You go numb in pain after some time, after your butt starts to gape and accepts the fat cock shoved inside it with a gushy squelch – wet with Shigaraki’s spit and the juice pouring from your cunt being fucked nice and tight where Dabi never fully pulls out more than halfway before fitting himself deep again – more enjoying the way your walls squeeze him soft and tight like a loving hug more than the motion. 

Besides, the friction of feeling Shigaraki pound the other hole on the opposite side of your walls and the way it makes you tense and seize up is enough to soothe the ache in his balls.

He puts his hands around your head and holds you where you lay, sniffling against his chest, giving your temple a kiss along with a couple of sweet nothings whispered gently at your face. “You’re so soft now… taking it so good~” He pets your head in slow strokes in contrast to the heavy hitting your poor ass receives from behind. Hammered deep and raw and unrelenting. “Good sluts like you deserve your reward….” He coos, and you feel Shigaraki’s hand slither to rest on your stomach, messaging tight and greedy circles into the place where the two of them bulge inside you.

“My anal pet is gonna get her reward right here real soon~” He singsongs. “Warm and thick right in your little belly.”

tip-jar: Kofi

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Pletonic yandere king and queen of hearts?

^Source

Platonic Yandere Queen and King of Hearts

“Have some more tea.”

“Uh thank you, your majesty.”

You gave a thankful nod to the servant, biting back the urge to repeat the sentiment. Shifting your attention to the cup of tea, you held your cup to your lips with practiced care. With a tentative glance directed at her, the Queen gave you a nod to which you continued to sip.

“You’ve only had a few crumpets, love. Here have some more.”

The King unceremoniously poured the plate of biscuits onto your tiny platter, smiling as he poured the entirety of the honey bail onto it. You gave him a nod before indulging, careful not to smudge your makeup. 

Things had been truly bizarre since you had fallen into the rabbit hole behind your dear friend. Able to traverse the land together it seemed that for as mad as this world seemed there were set rules. Specifically, one that made your dearest friend be called Alice. It was grating to hear others call your friend a name that was not their own; even worse you were hardly acknowledged. Many would straight-up ignore you or tilt their heads at you and ask your name. It was oddly alienating for this world to encourage your friend to commit to this role claiming a prophecy be fulfilled. And then simply sighing when it came to you, being just as clueless as you.

In a way it gave you the freedom to do as you pleased able to travel all around Wonderland, getting to know those who were capable of acknowledging your existence. Some of which had been those in the Heart’s kingdom. 

“Now that is settled with we can begin talks of this Alice-character. I believe it’d be best if we capture her and behead her as soon as we have them! ”

She waved her own tea cup around, haphazardly spilling her tea all about her. Making you wonder why she spent energy lecturing you at all. Her husband sighed, hands on his round rosy cheeks watching you eat the honey-covered crumpet. 

“Mmmm, that’s nice dear.”

You dabbed at your mouth, running your tongue over your teeth in hopes of clearing any remains of the sticky treat. Wouldn’t want to have any distractions while you fought your point.

“Perhaps there can be another way…a more peaceful option?” 

Focusing on your cup of tea, you looked into the reflection of the organ-shaped teapot. Watching as the queen’s face seemed to scrunch before she turned to you. With her crimson-painted nails, she held your face, turning your head to the left then to the right. 

“Of course not dear, violence is the only option. Now, King, they’re looking a bit gaunt, yes?”

“Of course dear.”

Once again you’re plea was ignored by the two of them who were now conversing intensely about how much more you needed to be eating. After all a proper royal heir was plump and well fed, they couldn’t have others of the court thinking you weren’t being fed properly. Huffing through your nose you dismissed yourself hardly waiting for the Queen’s release before making your way out of the hearts maze. Being sure you were far enough for your angry mumbles and stomping was out of their earshot. So caught up in your huffy exit you nearly ran over the rabbit frantically calling your name.

“Oh! W.B. I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I-it it is just fine, your majesty.”

“Your majesty, W.B. are you…have you been drinking hatter’s tea.”

“What?! No-well th-this might have s-something to do with just that.” 

He shuffled through his pockets, ears twitching along with his nose. The poor creature was really worked up. With a shaky hand(?) (or foot?) he gave you a scroll, an unstamped document that rolled over your feet when you opened it. You read through the first lines of cursive before double-taking running your thumb over the dried ink. 

“I, the Queen and King of Hearts, hereby declare that whosoever be appointed as the royal heir by their decree must adhere to the following rules and regulations—oh my gosh! I think I’m going to be sick.”

You haphazardly dropped the scroll to the ground, running past the rabbit who fumbled with the policy. The ‘rules and regulations’  that were spoken of told of horrible and gruesome punishments for those that so much as thought of slighting you. Being called ‘majesty’ or ‘young highness’ was one of them. Punishment for the accused was the equivalent of a scorched or ‘beheaded’ tongue, it was appalling to imagine. 

Torn by rage and helplessness you ran–out of the maze past the unpainted roses and idle card soldiers. You couldn’t stand to be here any further from your dearest friend, your dearest Alice while your company plotted to kill them. 

You were done.

Done with the absurdity of this world.

It was time to put a stop to it all. 

As you should’ve from the beginning.

Before they were wooed by Wonderland’s love for Alice.

Before they threatened their safety.

Before the others threatened you.

It was time to go.

Running with abandon you tore through the vegetation, uncaring of the way it stuck to your heart and card-patterned garments. Tearing at the seams of posh confinement you discarded different articles as the tearing branches demanded. Forging on you spied the bushel you had left your dearest compatriot to hide inside. Worry bubbled in your tummy as you noted the crumbs of a soft pastry caking your hands as you kneeled to the ground; forcing your eyes to roam through the blades of grass. 

“There you are!” 

You scooped them up, supporting their small form as you sat on your heels.

“Where on Earth did you find another shrinking cake!?”

They shrugged their shoulders and nervously dragged their foot along your palm as they continued to pout. You had to listen carefully but you could hear them. Fully used to their illogical desire for any available food—starved or full it must be eaten–you scolded them lightly. 

“Look, we don’t have time to fight about this…we have to leave the Queen is determined to have your head. I have a sneaking suspicion she’d not going to care whether your head’s the size of a sugar cube.” 

You patted yourself down, searching for the perfect place to tuck your miniature companion away. Finding the only space was the loose fabric around a makeshift pocket near your chest. With a little protest, your tiny friend climbed in, prepared for the jostling journey ahead. 

“Hey it’ll be okay, by this time tomorrow we’ll finally be away from this horrid place.”

“You’re right this is a horrid place, so far from the castle grounds! Guards! I want this patch of weed burned to the ground!”

You slowly rose to your feet hiding your friend with crossed arms. Dressed in battle wear: a spiny red armor the queen over a tightly fitted dress; the crimson wisps of her makeup were harsher and more violent than before, coupled with the dark eyeliner of a smoky eye. She sat on the back of some tortured creature that seemed to sport a glare at you of its own. skin–a pulsing pink, littered with pus-filled wounds, and stray wisps of hair and feather. 

“Your high–”

“Hush!”

Her red claws nails touched and you sealed your lips. She sent a glare to the ground below her beast only shifting her seat before sending her narrowed gaze. 

“Only an hour in the jungle and you’ve adapted their savage ways? Where are your manners, (Y/n)?!”

“Uhm your maje-”

“HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?!”

You could only helplessly flutter your lips at her screaming. Nearly shaking as you fought tears you held your ground. 

“I-I don’t understand what it is you want.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “So you have forgotten. You are still a child; misguided and ill-remembering.”

“What?! Wait hold on–”

“Now listen well child, you are to call me your mother and your father–your father. Do you understand?”

“But you’re not my–”

“GUARDS! Take the child back to the palace, the war that is to come is one I’d prefer you watch with lunch on the side.”

“Wh-agh!” 

Four card guards took your limbs and held you high. Ignoring your wriggling and protests, you nearly forgot about your hidden companion. No doubt clinging to the fabric of your clothes in the midst of your sudden struggle. You stilled only bobbing at the marching pace of the soldiers looking at the twisted perspective of the Queen ordering her troupes to move. She turned to you barely looking over her shoulder as her pointed teeth showed from behind her crimson lips.

“I’ll return when I’ve rid you of the parasite Alice! In the meantime brush up on the rules you silly child. No longer will you deny your right as my young heir. Ta-ta!”

With a wave of her hand and the crack of a whip, she moved with the procession. 

Out to behead your dearest Alice and all of those who stood in her way.

Who was safely tucked within the fabric of your dressings.

[bokutizer]

Summary : The Iwaizumis are not very good at expressing their feelings

Tags : fem!reader, fluff, just iwa and his daughter being tsunderes

"She did what?!" 

You wince at Iwaizumi’s loud voice, especially once you feel your daughter's grip on your pants tighten. Despite his hotheadedness, him raising his voice at either of you two is not something that occurs all too often.  Except when it comes to his daughter’s short temper…

"You can’t just pull other people’s hair!" Iwaizumi exasperatedly plops down on the couch, the piece of furniture creaking beneath his weight as he sternly glares at your daughter. 

"I think you're being a little too rough there-"

"Trashykawa, don’t. Just- don’t."

Of course Oikawa had to visit you today, and of course Oikawa has something to contribute to this conversation.

"B-But, daddy. It was not my fault!" her voice is a little shaky as she speaks up determinedly, emphasizing her words with a final stomp of her foot. 

"What do you mean? Did she hit you?" he watches her shy back and her face redden with embarrassment. His curious eyes now switch back to you, and this entire situation seems to make less sense to him when he’s met with that mischievous grin of yours. "What?"

"It was a boy." you admit finally, biting your inner cheek while trying to contain a laugh. "The teacher said she walked up to him and suddenly started pulling his hair." 

"Oh." Iwaizumi’s frown softens the slightest bit, and when the gearwheels in his head start turning, putting two and two together: "Oh." 

"Well, I wonder where she got that from." Oikawa mumbles rhetorically with a teasing smirk that the athletic trainer so desperately wants to wipe off. Not in front of the child. Not in front of the child-

Iwaizumi sighs audibly and squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, composing himself before looking back at his mini-me. As soon as his arms are open, she’s throwing herself in his embrace, letting him pull her up on his lap. "You’re not mad?" she asks quietly. 

"No… I-I mean, yes!" he sighs again. She might have his temper, yet your ability to wrap him around her finger without even trying. "Princess, you have to talk to me or mommy when someone or something's bothering you, 'kay? Hurting your classmate was wrong, very so. Promise that you won’t do that again." 

"I promise!" she seals her words with a final hug and tightly wraps her arms around her dad's neck. You can ground her later, Iwaizumi thinks to himself while pressing a kiss against her temple.

"Iwaizumi-kun, you can’t just pull her hair!" his sensei scolded, her stern gaze making the five year old deflate visibly and stare at his shoes in shame. With a final gesture of her arm, she points to the little stool in the corner of the classroom before tending to you. 

"Stupid." Iwaizumi grumbles to himself, frustratedly stomping his feet with each step towards the corner. "Stupid, pretty Y/n."

[pleasantglitterflower]

BURROW FAMILY

The knife was dropped on the wooden board with force, she sighed tiredly, squeezed her eyes tightly, wondering if that was really real, but the crying on the second floor and the baby monitor confirmed it.

Amanda washed her hands, leaving the unfinished dinner in the kitchen and hurriedly went upstairs with her strategic spare bottle.

Only then did she realize that she might have hurt her fingers with the knife, she quickly looked at her hand and saw that there was no blood, so he was probably fine.She arrived at her youngest son's room with his little brother.

-Peter, come see what the fuss is about, you're being a good big brother. She smiled at the boy who hurried to find a toy for his little brother to try to calm down.

-Mommy, why is this boy crying so much?It was the firstborn's turn to appear, as always, complaining.

-I don't know, honey, but since you're already 9 years old, how about helping Mommy and doing some research on Google? She suggests, picking up the baby and trying to make him stop.

-He's annoying. - The boy walks away, returning to his room.

-Okay, Gunner, your brother loves you too. - She sighs, trying to make the youngest one take the bottle at once.

-Mommy, why does he always drink milk with that powder? - Gunner takes the opportunity to ask, and only then does Amanda realize that she needs to shake the bottle more since all the powder has settled at the bottom.

-Your brother is sick, and the more he drinks this, the better he gets - she tries to explain.

Dealing with everyone's curiosity has been difficult, she doesn't know how to say it.

-Ash, honey, can you get your brother's blanket for me? I think he's cold. - Amanda calls to the girl, who appeared at the bedroom door with a doll and some of her jewelry hanging from her neck and ears.

-You look so pretty, my love.- Amanda is surprised by the girl's face smeared with mascara and her expensive lipstick.

-If he were a girl, I would get him, but he's a boy, boys are silly. - She leaves, stomping her foot.

Amanda sighs. The only time everyone decides to be disobedient is when she's holding him in her arms. The older ones are jealous of the younger one, and rightly so. For over a year, they haven't talked about anything else except what Ben is feeling, what Ben needs, if Ben went to the doctor, how Ben woke up. Ever since the complications started, even before he was born, the children started to rebel.

Gunner stays quiet in his room, plays the little his father allows him, studies and is responsible for teasing everyone. On rare occasions, he manages to hug his parents and siblings and live normally. Ashley, at 7 years old, is leaving her princess phase and entering what she calls her diva era. Now the girl alternates between ripping her dolls' clothes and going to her mother's closet to try to grab something within her reach, which rarely happens, leaving only the makeup on the sink, which Amanda still doesn't know how to get to. Peter always appears when the subject is his younger brother. Amanda thought he felt some special closeness, since he was barely three years old. That is until she discovered that he was just desperately trying to shut up his younger brother, so he could go back to the comics that he doesn't understand at all. He just laughs at the pictures and then throws them away. -Gunner, can you get your brother's blanket for me? - Amanda goes to the door to make it easier for him to hear her, without taking Ben's bottle away. She knows what's going to happen.

-I can't, I'm watching a live stream - The boy shouts, irritating Amanda.

-Of course, because the live stream is more important than helping your mother cover your cold brother - She snorts tiredly.

-That's right -The boy retorts.

Ben ended up spitting out the milk, making her quickly pull the bottle away and do some juggling to make sure he didn't choke or drop the bottle.

Only then did she realize something: his skin, despite the goosebumps, was hot, which could only mean one thing: another fever.

After the chaos of the afternoon, Joe came home from training at night, when everything was under control, Peter was calmly watching TV, Ash had taken a shower and had his hair properly combed, Gunner was in a good mood, since he found a candy in the fridge, and not forgetting Ben who, after a call with the pediatrician, managed to control Amanda's fever without needing medication.

-How did they behave today, General? -Joe salutes Amanda.

-Gunner was the worst, I think you need to have a little talk with him, Ash continues to act like daddy’s little princess and Peter, thank God, I only hear his laughter when he’s watching comics or TV. - She explains, finishing collecting the children’s plates, while Gunner helps to tidy everything up.

Joe signals for her to come closer, stealing a kiss and earning a grimace from her.

-How’s Ben? He asks quietly, already aware of the commotion that occurs when someone asks about the boy.

-He has a little fever. She also speaks quietly, glancing back. Gunner is distracted, putting everything in the dishwasher.

-I’m going to take a shower and see how he’s doing. - Joe approaches to try to hug her, but Amanda is quick to pull away.

He just scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what to do. It's not the first time she's run away from him or acted harshly. He knows that everything has been difficult, but he doesn't know how to help solve everything, whether it's the children's mood, Ben's health or their marriage.

The truth is that Amanda has always been rational and practical, unlike Joe, who was too sentimental and romantic. The last time he saw his wife guided by passion and emotion was when he proposed to her and it didn't take long for them to get married.

Ben sleeps like an angel in his crib. Joe took the opportunity to gently caress his little hand.

Eating in silence has become a routine. Amanda insists that the children eat early so they can go to bed early, which gives Joe little time with them. He only spends his free time when he tries to do something with everyone. Most nights are like this, with him at an empty table, Amanda on the phone eating a salad.

-How long are you going to follow this crazy diet? He starts a conversation.

-It's healthy, I'll follow it until the nutritionist changes it. -She answers without looking at him.

-I said I just wanted to get your body back, you're already much thinner than before...Joe is cut off.

-That's your opinion.She ends the subject.

Joe simply doesn't see any way to talk to her.

-I only care if you're healthy.

-She's trained to tell me to eat things that will make me healthy, so yes. - Joe decides to change the subject.

-Did you see that the new season of Ru Paul is coming out?

-So what?She continues to ignore him.

-Well, we always watched it at night and... Joe is cut off again.

-I don’t have time for this. - She quickly gets up.

In a few minutes, she washed what was in front of her, put some things away and went upstairs completely automatically. Watching the drag show was their time to relax, laugh, cry, but do something that was definitely just theirs. But since the problems with Ben, it was yet another thing that had changed.

The next night, after a busy day, the children’s dinner is too chaotic.

-It’s your fault he’s a boy, I don’t like you. -Ash pouts and turns his face to Amanda, who takes a deep breath.

-Honey, I’m going to teach you something called biology, okay, remember that. If your brother is a boy, it’s your father’s fault. - Amanda smiles at the girl.

Ash went from angry to confused in minutes, her face changed, the girl felt betrayed by her father, in a jump she jumped out of the chair and started running and screaming around the house.

-I hate you, daddy

The phrase echoes in every corner, while she spins from one side to the other until Joe arrives and hears that.

-Why does daddy's little princess hate me? He asks the girl offended.

The girl with blond curls stamped her foot and was firm.

-Ben is a boy and it's your fault, I hate you, mommy told me everything - She says indignantly.

Joe had to hold himself back from laughing at her trying to confront him.

-Don't be like that, we can give you a little sister

-Can you? She seems to calm down.

-Yes, mommy doesn't want one -Joe finishes.

At the same time, Ashley went to Amanda who holds herself back from cursing Joe.

-Mommy, I want a little sister. Her name will be Jasmine. She has to be a redhead. The girl demands.

-That's great, honey. We have two options: we adopt or your dad finds another mother for your sister. What do you think? - Amanda responds, irritated by the subject.

Ashley blinks slowly, thinking about what she heard. Meanwhile, Joe is busy messing up Peter's hair, who is trying to finish eating.

Ashley quickly opens her mouth and starts to cry. The girl's face turns red. She tilts her head back and her mouth is wide open, intensifying her crying.

-Daughter, you don't have to cry about this - Amanda asks.

-Ben cries all the time for nothing. I have a reason. - She says with some difficulty.

Amanda gets up, going to the fridge and getting a

-Stop crying, eat some chocolate, you love chocolate - The girl slaps her hand.

-Ash, mommy was playing - Joe tries to explain, only then does Amanda realize why she is crying.

-I hate you, you're going to find us another mommy and you didn't give me a sister -She says again.

Joe sighs heavily, sitting on the floor to be closer to her.

-Ashley, your mommy was playing with you, you don't have another mommy and you can't control whether your siblings are boys or girls, we all know that Gunner would look much better in a dress and a bow - Joe jokes, earning a grimace from the older boy.

-Promise me you won't have another mommy? - She wipes her face, looking at him with fear awaiting his answer.

-I promise

But Ashley didn't believe it.

When she understood the reason for her crying, Amanda thought about divorce for the first time. That gave her two thoughts: the first was what her life would be like without Joe, and the second was how difficult it would be for them.

Joe and Amanda had to go to Ashley's room together to put her to bed, since she was still scared.

-You don't have to think about those things, you hear me? - Amanda said to the girl sitting on the bed, her eyes still red.

-Do you promise? - She asked. Amanda could hear the fear in the girl's voice.

She didn't know how to answer that, or maybe she just didn't have the strength to do so. She decided to hug her.

-I love you.Amanda kissed her forehead, and she smiled shyly.

-I took your Snow White blanket, I don't want to see Daddy's little princess crying over nothing anymore. Joe appears, opens the blanket and covers her, leaving a kiss on her cheek just as an excuse to tickle her.

He then hugs Amanda's neck, who is sitting on the edge of the bed.

-I want you to know that Daddy loves Mommy and won't leave her and she won't leave me either, because we love each other, we've known each other since Peter was old and I've always been proudly her soulmate and she's mine, soulmates don't live apart, because if they do they get so sad that they end up dying, you know?  Joe questions the girl who denies it.

-So you can never be apart - The girl deduces.

-That’s right, if not, daddy will die of sadness, I love your mother so much, that’s why, daughter, don’t worry, I’ll never leave her, you hear me?  Joe’s words, while he rocks her in this boat, seem to run through her mind.

-Isn’t that right, honey? He asks her.

-Yeah - Amanda agrees, a little out of it.

Ashley went to sleep peacefully, while Amanda and Joe are still confused.

-I shouldn’t have said that, she’ll keep bugging me - Amanda reminds him.

-It’ll be nice to have another girl.

-Joe, I don’t want any more children, I think we’ve had enough a long time ago, especially after Ben, I can’t bear to go through that again. Amanda is sincere, leaving her cream on the sink and looking at him.

-Okay, no problem, I just imagined it, it was really hard for all of us, I know it’s been even harder for you. He agrees.

-We all suffered equally, the children felt it, you felt it, Ben felt it - She states, she hates the narrative of being weak or showing how much it affected her regardless of the situation.

-That’s why I thought about a surrogate mother, she’ll have our DNA, but someone else will have the child - Joe replies.

Amanda stopped everything she was doing.

-You understand that I said I don’t want any more children, it’s not just that part, it involves raising the child too.

-And Ashley, she’ll grow up in a house with so many boys, with no one to play with, to keep her company, that’s horrible, even more so when there are going to be three boys, I had brothers and you did, you know how important and good it is.

-Exactly, she already has brothers, they’ll be great company for her - Amanda insists.

-I just think we can talk about it later, calmly, think about the idea, it’s just an idea.

Amanda just ignored him.

-We have a big, happy family. Another child would be welcomed and loved, I'm sure. - Just like Ben? She asks him as she leaves the bathroom. -It's just siblings' annoyance. Tell me, whether your siblings are younger or older, they've never said they hate you? - Joe asks her. -We have plenty of rooms in the house. We have space, we have time, we have money, we're young and we have love to give. What's the problem? - Joe sits down next to Amanda on the bed, making it impossible for her to lie down and ignore him. -Have you ever thought about what would happen if our marriage ended? She asks him impulsively. Joe's eyes widened. -It wouldn't be fair to them. The room quickly became agitated. -Why should I think about that? It doesn't make any sense. - He stares at her.

-This divorce thing doesn't exist, you heard me, it doesn't exist, forget what Ashley said, my love, she was just scared, there's no reason to think about it - he gave a weak smile and got up.

But the following days were strange, especially for Joe.

He woke up in the middle of the night, with her fiddling with something, he threw the blanket aside, seeing Amanda already with a bag.

-What's wrong? He sighs trying to wake up.

-Ben has a high fever, I'm going to take him to the doctor - she says, going to the door to leave the room.

Joe gets up quickly.

-Wait a minute, I'll go with you

Amanda huffs irritably, turning to her husband.

-There's no point in both of you going, if I'm already going, stay home - Amanda leaves the room slamming the door.

Joe ran his hands through his hair, not knowing what else to do. The hours passed and he couldn't sleep a wink. He went to check if the others were okay. He called Amanda to try to find out something, but the calls ended. He went to the living room, where he didn't notice what time he ended up hanging up.

In the morning, he woke up to the excitement of the children. Seeing that she had arrived, Peter went to him on the couch to give his father a little hug. Joe decided to go see Ben, who was awake and a little agitated, since he was now eight months old and learning to crawl. That's why the bedroom door had gained extra protection.

He decided to go get ready, since he had training and had no excuse not to go, but when he got to the kitchen, he decided to rethink things.

-You know, I think we should hire a nanny. It would be good to have someone who can always be around, sharing the work. If I could, you know, I would spend the day here with you, but... - He gives the idea when he sees Amanda with her eyes a little purple, probably from tiredness.

-Do you think I’m so incapable that I can’t take care of them? She takes it as a provocation.

-I think everyone needs to help to make things easier, I can see that all of this has been heavy for you and I don’t want you to be overwhelmed with any of this, I don’t know if you don’t want a babysitter, we can call my parents, your parents, I don’t think they’ll mind spending time with their grandchildren - Joe tries to fix it.

-They’re our responsibility, I can’t make other people come here, put their lives on hold, because of our decisions, that’s ridiculous - Joe realizes that the conversation isn’t going to get anywhere.

-I think the night was hectic, I’m going to take the kids to class, who wants to go to class with daddy? - He gets their attention and they quickly perk up.

-Joe, go to your training, you're going to be late, you know I take them every day - Amanda asks.

-You know I'm not late, I'll take them and go straight to training, in the meantime you stay here with Peter and Ben - Joe tries to change the routine, seeing that she's not in the best shape to drive by the tired look on her face.

Joe went upstairs, going to get his training equipment and when he came back to his surprise, they had already left.

Amanda didn't need much to realize that it really wasn't the best option to drive, right now with the sun still weak at 7 in the morning and everything too still, but luckily everyone arrived safely, she took the opportunity to stop at a coffee shop and get a coffee to try to stay awake, but it was definitely not the best idea.

They have known each other forever, their parents are friends. After so many years as inseparable friends in their teens, their neighbors, friends, uncles and brothers started saying that they would end up getting married and that in fact, they had always been in love with each other, which made them both very stressed.

They did the same thing when they were 15, they started pretending to hate each other and getting involved with other people to shut everyone up, until they were 17 and Joe said he was going to move to the capital. There was no way to put it off and just accept it. They really liked each other a lot. They didn't date for long, until they decided to get married and give in to their love.

-Well, now that the kids are getting older, you must be dying to start living your own life, right? You were so young when you decided to get married, you were only 18 - A neighbor of Joe's parents was there.

-Now you can have a nanny or put them in various complementary activities and you can have a hobby, maybe even a job, but I think that with your age and lack of experience, it will be difficult 

Amanda felt the glass start to warm her hand, she just watched the lady more like a robot.

-You know, you need to live individually, like something that is only yours, he must love having total control over you, even financially, but that will not be good for your future

The words run through Amanda's already empty and silent mind, who just wanted to sleep.

-Being a trophy wife is amazing, but what comes next? Everyone always criticizes feminists, but if they get divorced, they will have a good structure to start over and normally, they do not hide completely behind the man, they usually have a voice

-Amanda dear, I think you need to start living your life and think about yourself a little" the worried tone makes her wake up.

-Thank you. She said and left in a hurry.

The conversation kept popping in her mind all day, leaving her distracted from everything. She finally began to ask herself what she likes and what she doesn't like. She doesn't know if she likes swimming, running, playing tennis, she doesn't know if she prefers comedy, cooking, horror shows, she doesn't know if she really likes the clothes in her closet or if they're just what she bought because they were appropriate for a mother.

And it was in the midst of so many thoughts and sleep that she didn't notice Peter climbing over the pool railing, she ran to the boy before he ended up hurting himself and falling, either on the floor or in the water.

-Peter, what did I say? It's to sunbathe. You two need to sunbathe, nothing more. She said harshly, returning the boy to the lounge chair.

The afternoon passed and with it the beginning of the night. Amanda began to feel something strange. She walked around the house, lost, without knowing where the feeling came from, until a flash in her mind made her forget Gunner and Ashley at school.

For the first time, Gunner preferred to stay quiet and silent. He didn't want to distract his mother from driving, not after she ran a red light and drove the wrong way.

Joe was informed of what had happened and decided to make a decision.

-Amanda, I'm going to the pharmacy. Do you need anything? He watched her but was speechless.

Since the answer in action was to crack an egg in the sink instead of in the frying pan on the stove.

Joe only needed one thing, a sleeping pill good enough to keep her out for the next few hours.

He poured it into her glass without her seeing and waited for her to drink it.

The medicine didn't take long to take effect, with Amanda passing out in the living room, he cautiously went upstairs with her in his arms and took care of the rest, including something she would hate.

She woke up the next day without knowing where she was, but for the first time in a long time, rested, she looked at the clock and got scared, but Joe tried to calm her down.

-I've already taken care of everything, I'm almost going to training, but first I need to talk to you - He asked.

Amanda just agreed, still dazed, running her hand over her face to try to truly wake up.

-Yesterday you almost crashed the car with you, Ashley and Gunner countless times, that's because I don't know what happened in the morning, if you don't want to accept help from anyone with a good heart, you're going to have to be forced

-Because I can't believe you think it's normal, to forget them at school two hours late or to drive out of control or to let a frying pan catch fire, while the food ends up in the sink, just for pride, who told you that you need to handle everything by yourself and that no one can ever help you? He questions her.

-I never said that, I had suggested a babysitter, but now we're going to do it differently, you have a week, either to talk to your parents, my parents, your brothers to come here or to choose a babysitter, if you keep putting your foot down and insisting on this madness, I'll go after the babysitter myself and make my rules with her - Amanda just listens.

-You're not taking care of anyone by doing this, you're putting everyone at risk, especially yourself. It won't kill you to let me spend the night with Ben. It also won't kill you if I take them to school sometimes. It seems like you don't like me being around them. Sometimes it seems like I'm your enemy. - Joe doesn't hide his discontent.

-I was trying to help you, but now I'm going to do it by force. I hid the car keys. You won't drive until you seem ready to do it. He warns.

-This is ridiculous. A lot happened yesterday. I'm fine now. Amanda defends herself.

-No, you're not. You need to rest your mind and body. You're not even eating because you're so determined that you need to lose too much weight. I found out that you haven't been to that nutritionist in months." Amanda is surprised.

-I don't know if you remember, but part of marriage is taking care of each other - he walks to the door.

-If you want to take a week's vacation somewhere, alone, take a friend, I don't know, go ahead, feel free, I just need you to rest and be well. He smiles as he leaves the room.

Joe and Amanda's wedding anniversary arrived and he made sure to celebrate by taking her out to dinner.

The waiter quickly grabbed a vase to decorate the table with flowers and left the menu with the two of them, Joe chattering the whole time, until Amanda had the courage to tell him everything she was feeling.

-Why didn't you tell me this before, we could have worked it out - he reminds her.

-I've been thinking a lot and I think it's good to have talked about it. Now I need some time for myself, without a shadow of a doubt, and I really think that our marriage is no longer a marriage. You know, I think we can separate and continue living in the same house, but living separately at first, so the children don't think it's so bad, and when they're older we can move out. I don't want it to be traumatic for them. Joe immediately cuts her off, surprised by what she said.

-Have you gone crazy? Are you saying you want to get a divorce on our 10th anniversary? I found out a few minutes ago what you were feeling, after I tried all kinds of approaches and only received your kicks and rudeness, and now you want me to applaud your request for divorce. Listen here, drink this wine, pull yourself together, no one here is going to get separated, they won't go through that, neither will you and I. - Joe turns the glass over, quickly filling another one and turning it over again.

-I need to find myself Joe, I need to find out what I like, what I want - He cuts me off again.

-You're in front of me talking crazy, I think you need therapy to figure that out, I think you need a spa too and a trip to calm down, you can spend a week, two, three, a month, if you want even a year getting to know the world, I'll take care of the kids, if you want to go back to see them that's fine, but we're not going to break up, there's no reason for that, I love you, you love me, you just need some time, if you want to open a store, open it, do whatever you want, it's okay, but we're not getting divorced - Joe says, visibly shaken by what he heard.

-Do you think this will help? - She doubts.

-I'll prove it will - He picks up the box with a gift for her, but stops halfway, putting his hand under his head, visibly shaken.

-Amanda, please don’t leave me, don’t kill me with the knife in our kitchen, I love you so much, I don’t know how to live without you, I don’t know how to describe how important you are to me, if I got where I am, it was because you were with me, supporting me and scolding me whenever I did something wrong on or off the field, if I don’t have you, I’m nothing, I won’t be able to live the rest of my life thinking that I lost you, don’t do this to me - Joe tries to control the tears on his face, since they are in public.

When a week passed and she hadn’t made any decision, when she arrived in Ben’s room after waking up, she came across her parents and sister.

Joe certainly didn’t want to offend her so much as to choose a nanny, but that surprised her.

The day was different, it was certainly good for Amanda, but at the same time reflective, her parents wanted to go pick up Gunner and Ashley, then buy some snacks on the way and spend some time with their grandchildren, while Amanda and Jade, her sister, were chatting with a huge tub of ice cream.

-I think our marriage is in crisis - She laments taking a good spoonful of ice cream.

-Marriage in crisis? Have you looked at Joseph? A marriage with him doesn't go into crisis - Her sister jokes.

-One day I was 18, I was excited to get married and I loved playing basketball, watching comedy series, learning French and the next day I suddenly wake up, I realize I have four children, a husband, I feel like I'm in a nightmare, I ask myself what I did in these ten years, what I really wanted, what was a dream and I see that nothing - Amanda vents.

-You need to take a vacation, go out, enjoy life a little, you have to know how to balance everything, just because you're married and have a ton of kids, doesn't mean you're dead and that's all it is, the worst kind of woman is the one who is limited to being a mother or a wife and no offense, you let yourself be limited to that Amanda agrees.

-That's always been my biggest fear, I love them, but I feel like I'm losing myself and wasting time, I could be experiencing so many things, but I preferred to stay locked up here

-The society we were born into makes us believe that this is the only good destiny for us women, you and all of us were raised to believe this, it's not your fault and you shouldn't feel guilty about wanting to experience different things

-Of course you have your day to day, but you can do something with the kids and then something with Joe and then the two of you can do something alone, it's good for each of you to have different things to do - Jade gives an idea.

-The problem is that I feel like I've lost my individuality and I don't know if I want to stay here, I don't know if I'll be able to just be myself and be comfortable with him - Amanda has some difficulty speaking.

-What do you mean? Jade's eyes widen.

-I stopped my life to do everything he wanted, I don't know if I know how to do anything beyond that, what he wants, I think I'm too weak, I should never have agreed to get married so early, I should have sorted out my life, done something I liked or at least failed trying, instead of letting everything get to this point - She laments.

-Listen here, you two really need to talk about this, but above all you need some time just for yourselves and to discover yourself, even if it means going to therapy, I'm going to stay here for a few days, Joe invited me and dad and mom too, so we'll help you, I'm sure, but don't give up, you don't need to give up your marriage to discover yourself, it can be very important for you to do this by giving you support and encouraging you - the two stand up and hug each other tightly.

The days were certainly calmer and the first thing their parents did was remind Joe and Amanda of the huge table they have, but they don't use it often. They end up sitting at the counter because it's quicker and more practical, but it keeps everyone away. The second thing was that there's no reason to have dinner separately and the third thing was how much lighter the house becomes and the children are happier when the adults aren't overwhelmed and fighting.

It seems that Amanda was able to see everything from a different perspective.

-Joe, I wanted to talk to you. I've thought about that subject. He is surprised and refuses to look at her, afraid of what she's going to say.

-What do you want to do?

-I think we need to go to couples therapy and we need to take the kids too, so they can learn to have a sense of brotherhood and see that Ben isn't to blame for everything. I think you need a day just for yourself too, just like me, we can choose a day for that. Every day is a family day and we take another day just for the two of us. I think I need an activity that I like and I need to occupy my mind with something different. It will be good for all of us. She gives a weak smile, and Joe, relieved, goes to her, hugs her tightly and throws her on the bed.

-Thank you - he says with a relieved voice, leaving a kiss on her cheek.

The two of them stayed there for a while thinking about everything, until Joe has the courage to speak.

-We need to learn to talk when something bothers us. Talking isn't fighting. We need that. It will do us a lot of good. We need to sit down and talk about the day, what we think, what we think, what we want, what one of us did that the other doesn't like. If we talk about everything, it will be okay - He takes her hand firmly.

Maybe the big change isn't necessarily taking something out of our lives, but changing our habits, and that's what Amanda is going to try.