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slowandsteddie · 9 months

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Part One

CW: abuse, Steve’s dad is a dick, pain and blood is talked about, Steve thinks he deserves it, mentions of homophobia, not seeking medical attention right away, trying to tough it out, descriptions of the aftermath of abuse,

To everyone who wanted to be tagged in part two, I want to make it very clear that the vibe is much different here, at least in the first half. The angst wasn’t meant to come in yet, but here we are. 😅. It does have a good ending though!

Tag list: @estrellami-1 @hallucinatedjosten @gaelicblue @starman-jpg @halfadoginatank @messrs-weasley

2141 words.

He sniffled and carefully wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. It was probably too warm for the damned thing. That didn’t stop him from having the hood flipped up and the strings pulled tight with a dumb looking bow resting basically on his lip. The sunglasses hid most of the rest of his face while still allowing him to see.

Steve was trembling pretty badly as he knelt beside the headstone. His hands were so shaky that he splashed more water than he meant to. He let out a deep sigh, resisted the urge to wipe his face again, and started moving dirt and moss away.

Carefully, he slid the old plastic card beneath the debris and pushed it to the edge. It was easier when the mess was a little damp, easiest when he got to the cemetery after a good rain.

Rain wasn’t in the forecast.

His entire body ached.

He let that thought go and gave in to the work he was doing. Once all the gunk was to the side, he pushed the small pile completely off the stone. He flattened it down a little bit where it landed.

Another splash of water.

Steve grabbed the toothbrush out of his back pocket and gently started working the dirt out of the carvings of the name and dates. Small, slow circles were most of it. His shoulders begged him to stop.

He didn’t.

Another splash of water.

He pulled out a bandana, something that he had only recently started bringing with him. He swiped off the headstone carefully. This was as clean as he was going to be able to get it.

Slowly, he pressed two fingers against the first syllable of the name that he had just unearthed again.

“Hello, Minerva Hurts,” his voice cracked. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Steve had never met her, she had passed in 1894, but he had given her name back before.

His entire body was begging him to lay down and take a nap right there. Instead, he pushed himself to wobbly feet and stumbled back toward his car. He could still smell and taste blood, but he’d deal with that in a little while.

More accurately, he would find someone willing to help him take care of it later. When it was higher up his priority list. He started the car before gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Every time he accidentally breathed too deep, he felt a stabbing pain in his rib that he knew wasn’t a good thing. But, he had a promise to keep right now.

He had promised to go to Eddie’s and bake some cookies. He wouldn’t let something stupid, like trying to fight his dad, get in the way of him keeping his word. He let out a sob before starting the drive to the trailer park. Honestly, the older male was probably the only one he would let see him like this.

Having wounds from the Upside Down was a lot different from having his ass handed to him by an older male who was meant to protect him.

When Steve got to where he was going, he pulled his sleeves back down before turning off the car and putting the keys in his pocket. He adjusted his sunglasses before getting out and limping to Eddie’s front door. He knocked and waited, using all of his will power to not lean against the trailer.

About a minute later, Eddie was opening the door. “What? Ashamed to be seen with me?”

“You’re the one with the reputation to protect, Munson.” Steve’s voice shook slightly.

Eddie immediately moved out of the way to let him in. Steve stepped in, nearly falling on the two steps it took to get up. He closed the door behind himself so he could lean on it.

“You okay, big boy?”

Steve tried to smile at that. He really did. “I need to sit,” was his response.

Eddie followed him to the couch, fully prepared to catch a male who was practically his own height. The injured male sucked in a breath when he sat down, his hand going to his left ribs.

“Who’d you try to fight this time, Harrington?” Eddie was on his way to the freezer to see if there was anything that could be used as an ice pack. Frozen peas and a beer should do the trick.

Steve heard the footsteps stop when the older male took in the sight before him. He had taken off the sunglasses and the hood. His eye was bruised and swollen shut, his lip was split, and his nose might have still been bleeding, but the most shocking part was his hair. It had been shaved badly. There was a line of hair that was completely missed. There were a lot of short hairs sticking out everywhere, and lines of blood…

Eddie’s hands had tightened around the items he was holding until his knuckles were white. The can might have crunched slightly, but Steve’s flinch took him out of it.

“Who am I killing?” Eddie asked as he opened the beer and held it out for Steve. As soon as the drink was taken, he carefully put the bag of peas beside him on the couch. Eddie knelt beside Steve’s knee, looking up at the crying male and resisted the urge to try and touch him.

“My, uh.” Steve paused. “My mom said I looked pretty and I blushed, you know. I must have looked too happy about it.” He couldn’t look at the male whose couch he was currently sitting on. “My dad lost his shit. Said no son of his was going to be a fucking queer, and, uh. Well you see it.” His eyes closed. “Help me take off the sweater? I don’t think I can move my arms above my head again.”

Eddie did as he was asked as gently as he could after moving the beer to the coffee table. Steve hadn’t even taken a drink. He saw red when he saw how many bruises littered the younger male's body. Saw the cuts on his hands and arms.

“Well, you aren’t going back there.” His voice left no room for argument. “Not while he’s there. Other than that, you have complete say in how to… handle this. But I’m not letting you leave. Not tonight.”

Steve sagged back against the couch and let his head fall back.

“Nope. You aren’t tilting your head back with a bloody nose, either.”

The injured male grunted, but he did listen.

“Thank you. I’ll be back with some stuff to get you cleaned up.”

Steve grunted again. Then softly, he asked a question that he never could have imagined asking before all of this. Not even in his wildest dreams. “Would you… finish shaving my head?”

Eddie’s face crumpled. Everyone knew how important Steve’s hair was to him.

“Yeah, yeah I can.”

—

Steve was as cleaned up as he was going to get without going to the hospital. The worst of his injuries were bandaged, he had an Ace bandage wrapped around his ribs, and bags of frozen peas. Eddie had let him borrow some clothes.

He felt weird in sweats and an Iron Maiden shirt, but he was grateful that they fit. That he didn’t have to go home. At some point, he had taken Eddie’s hand and intertwined their fingers when he wasn’t met with any objections. They were watching something on TV, though that was more turned on just so Steve would have an excuse to not have to talk.

He had never been more grateful to Eddie than he was right now. He was about to say something when he heard a car pulling up and he squeezed his friend’s hand tighter.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, big boy. It’s just my uncle.”

Steve let out a shaky breath and nodded. “He’s, uh. He’s going to be okay with me being here?”

“He’s used to me taking in strays.”

Steve laughed, then groaned and took his hand back to hold his ribs. “Asshole.”

“You know you love me.”

Steve was trying to figure out how to respond to that, blushing and smiling, when the door opened.

“Steve,” Wayne greeted with a nod.

“Wayne,” he replied softly.

The older male took in the sight in front of him and hummed in thought. He didn’t say anything, he just went to the kitchen and started taking stuff out of the bag that he had brought in with him. The microwave started and Steve looked at Eddie.

“He’s gonna be staying with us awhile,” Eddie informed his uncle without preamble.

“Good. He should.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

Steve wanted to take Eddie’s hand again, but he didn’t dare. Not with an adult in the house. Eddie seemed to be able to read his thoughts because next thing he knew, they were holding hands again and Steve felt himself relax again.

Wayne brought three tv dinners to the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, leaving Eddie in the middle.

“I’m not the type to make a fuss,” Wayne started. “But you aren’t going back to that house alone. I’ll go with you to get your stuff tomorrow and you’re going to stay with us. And that’s the end of it.”

“You’re getting soft,” Eddie teased with a grin.

Wayne just hummed. They all ate in silence and the only thing that Steve felt right now, the pain not included, was gratitude.

—

Steve was grateful that he had an adult with him when he got home the next day. Wayne followed him in and up to his room before standing outside the door with his arms crossed.

Steve’s mom was crying and his dad was yelling. Wayne didn’t react other than to make sure Steve was alone to gather what he needed without being hurt again.

After about fifteen minutes, he had everything he needed in a duffel bag and a couple of boxes. His mother helped him by taking a box. Wayne took the duffel bag, and Steve was left with the lighter box to carry.

“I’m not paying you to steal my boy.” There was venom in that voice that had Steve whimpering.

“I don’t need your money, Harrington.”

His stuff was put in the pickup bed. He hugged his mom who slipped him something and kissed the side of his face that had less injuries.

“I love you, Stevie. I’m sorry it turned into this.”

“Me, too, mom.”

He got in the truck and buckled up before looking out the window, away from his father.

Wayne got in as well after a few minutes, then they drove in silence. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Eddie had a Hellfire thing that Steve had refused to let him reschedule.

“Oh, um. Happy birthday by the way.” Steve said when they got back to the trailer.

“Thanks, kid.”

Steve smiled small before getting out and grabbing some stuff to bring it in. Wayne helped him get everything into Eddie’s room before humming and walking away.

Steve sat on the bed and opened the envelope that his mother had given him. Inside was the title to the car that he had been driving, and a lot of money. Way too much. His heart was pounding quickly as he stood up and went back to the living room. Wayne was sitting on the couch with a beer. Steve sat beside him and took a breath before handing him all the money that was in the envelope.

“I can’t take this.”

“Mom gave it to me.”

“It’s yours.”

“But… I’m going to be staying with you.”

Wayne looked at him. “One hundred bucks a month. Absolutely nothing more. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

—

Eddie was helping Steve clean headstones. His long hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Steve’s own hair was a few inches long.

It had been months of them spending every night in the same bed. They still did their own thing a lot during the day. But at night, there were lots of hushed conversations and giggles until sleep overtook them.

Steve was falling. Hard. But he wasn’t going to say anything. Not when all they’ve done was hold hands and cuddle.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Eddie said after a few moments of silence.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? What it is.”

“I’ve been going at your pace this whole time. I was going to wait until you were ready. But I need you to know that I really want to kiss you, big boy.”

“Come here, then,” he said without hesitation.

Eddie wiped his hands on his bandana before turning toward the younger male, gently cupping his face, and pressing their lips together.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #Steve’s dad is a dick #mentions of abuse #the aftermath of abuse #wayne munson #I love Wayne Munson #protective Munson’s #Steddie’s first kiss #slowandsteddie

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factorialsotherfandoms · 5 months

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Fit's brain and throat and nose are made of gunk, and he can only praise Hausmaster that Ramon has been preoccupied with something in his room and not wanting to come out the past few days. His beautiful baby boy has his cookies for the week, a good supply of food, and absolutely does not deserve any of this. Not being made of cotton wool, and not being so dizzy getting up is impossible.

He has tried to get up - being sick is not an option, being sick gets you found and killed and killed again - but didn't even make it to the door. In defeat he dragged himself back to bed, burrowed under the duvet, and consoled himself with the fact at least this way he has the element of surprise.

And a sword. Can never underestimate the power of a trusty sword.

He dozes, rather than sleeps, already too vulnerable for his liking but unable to stay fully awake.

His sneezes wake him up. Its gross, and its messy, and he can barely find the energy to grab a tissue and care.

It's as he's trying - failing - to get the gunk out of his nose that he hears footsteps. He freezes for a second, then hides himself back under the covers.

Don't look.

Pretend to be asleep.

Maintain the element of surprise, or die.

He listens, and waits, and after a little bit there's a knock at the door.

"Fit?"

Pac. That's Pac's voice.

Fit isn't sure why he relaxes at that, but he does. He tosses the tissue at the bin, misses, and calls a very stuffy "come in, Pac."

Pac enters shoulder first, using his elbow on the door handle while he carries a tray. There's a bowl, and a spoon, and a glass, and a bottle.

"Phil said you weren't feeling well last night" traitor "Then you weren't there and... I have soup?"

"Soup sounds lovely, Pac."

Fit keeps his thoughts about Philza's meddling to himself, and struggles to sit up instead. Pac quickly puts down the tray, scooting over to help him get comfortable against the cushions.

"I wasn't sure what sort of sick you are feeling, so I bought all the medicines," he gestures not just at the bottle, but the sheets of pills around it too.

"You're too good to me, Pac."

Pac blushes a bit in reply.

It's a little too much to process. Fit waves a thank you and asks, "soup first?"

"Of course, of course," Pac shifts the tray over, balancing it on Fit's lap. "Do you need help, or...?"

"I'll be fine," Fit reassures - its just a stuffy head cold. "Try not to get sick?"

"I think Richas already has it. If I'm catching it, I've caught it," Pac shrugs. "Toast?"

The idea makes Fit a little queasy; he shakes his head.

Is it good to know some virus is spreading around the island? No, but at least there's someone else to blame if Pac does end up sick. Richars probably caught it off one of the other kids in turn, germ factories that they are.

A hand reaches his forehead, resting there a second as Pac scowls. Fit lets him be, focusing on the bowl of soup in his hands.

Chicken, and there's some sort of noodle in it. The noodles bits are a little much for his throat, but the liquid itself is good.

"I don't think its a fever?" Pac eventually concludes. "So, um..."

As Fit eats a little more soup, Pac starts picking out some of the medicines. A sneezing fit later and he's handed a handful of tablets, and a glass of juice.

Fit...

Fit hesitates.

But then he looks up at Pac, and decides he is going to trust him.

He takes the handful of pills, swallows them dry, then sips at the juice to quell the anxiety of /something/ in his throat.

"Thank you," Pac says, and really shouldn't that be Fit's line?

Instead he's struggling to keep the medication down, not because of sickness but panic.

A familiar hand reaches out, rubbing his shoulder. It feels good for a moment, before suddenly it pulls away.

"Sorry, sorry," Pac mutters.

"You're good," Fit replies, and stuffy nose warping the tone.

More hesitantly, the hand returns. Fit gives the medicine a few moments to settle, and finishes the juice. Shakily he lifts the tray back up, only for Pac to swoop down and take it.

Fit slumps a bit into the pillows.

"I'll be back when you can have more medicine...?" Pac suggests.

That's good, that sounds good; Fit doesn't want Pac staying and getting sick too.

So he nods, and scoots back down below the cover.

Just as he begins to doze, there's the brush of lips atop his head. And Fit...

Fit isn't sure what to do, so he pretends not to notice, and allows himself to slip back into fragmented sleep.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp fit #qsmp pac #sickfic #fitpac

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wingedquill · 10 months

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notes on survival (a preview)

so i blacked out and wrote like 4K words of a new fic concept. I don't think I'll be posting it on ao3 until it's entirely done (really do not need another currently-updating WIP) but wanted to share the first little bit on here with y'all (CW: kidnapping, violence against children) ---

Here’s how it starts, for Steve:

He’s ten.

He’s riding his bike. It’s a bit late in the day, but not that late, not nearly his curfew. The sun is still high in the sky, and he can hear kids shrieking with laughter a few streets over. They’d invited him to play with them, but he’d turned them down cause he wanted to check on the tadpoles he’d found in the pond last weekend.

He gets to a stop sign. A car pulls up next to him: old, gray, forgettable. The windows are down, but it’s summer. It’s normal. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

A bang. A scream.

“Help!” a voice shouts from the trunk. “Someone help!”

The driver looks over. Makes direct eye contact with Steve.

He knows, even as he starts pedaling, that he’s not gonna be fast enough.

***

Steve can’t really remember a time when he’d been un-messed-up. Not clearly, at least. He has the vague, stretched-summer memories of baking cookies with his mom, of somersaulting off the diving board at the public pool and getting yelled at by a lifeguard, of hiding in the woods simply because it was the best way to avoid his chores.

They’re nice memories, he thinks. Part of him wants to put them in a box and never touch them again. But they’re nice.

He’s good at pretending they’re all he’s made of.

But now he’s here. Walking through the woods. He’s not avoiding his chores but he’s also not hiding, and that’s probably the only reason why he’s not vomiting into the underbrush. Nancy’s hand is cold in his, and it’s enough of an anchor.

He’s not alone.

“Will!” he yells, his lungs burning with the force of the yell. “Will!”

He wonders if he got a search party like this.

***

They’re bumping down a road that’s more potholes than asphalt. The other boy won’t stop hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone apologizes. You’re supposed to accept it.

He doesn’t even know what the boy is apologizing for, not really. He isn’t a kidnapper. He hadn’t tied Steve up and stuffed him in the trunk. He had only screamed for help. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“I’m Steve,” he says. It’s important that the other boy knows his name. Vitally so. The man who took them isn’t gonna care, and he needs one person here who cares about him.

The other boy sniffles against Steve’s shirt.

“Ed,” he chokes. “I’m Ed.”

***

He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s gasping for air and his sides are on fire.

Second verse, same as the first.

“We gotta get your shirt off,” Robin’s telling him. “We need to, Steve, your dirty, lake-gunk sweater is embedded in those wounds, I don’t want you getting a massive infection on top of rabies. That’s like, for sure definite dead.”

He drags himself out of the hunting shack and into the Upside Down. Eddie and Nancy are huddled together by a fallen tree, Nancy giving him a quick rundown of how the hivemind works. Neither of them are looking.

“I can’t,” he chokes anyway. “They’ll see–they’ll know.”

Cross your heart and hope to die.

She bites her lip. She looks like his mom had, when she’d told him he wouldn’t be seeing Ed again. Like she’s cutting off one of his limbs to save the rest of him.

“Steve, they won’t care,” she lies.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll chance the infection,” he says. “I mean it Robin.”

She closes her eyes. Scoots around to the other side of him, putting herself between him and Eddie-and-Nancy.

“I’ll dress the wounds quick,” she says. “And give you my overshirt. That okay?”

He takes a deep breath. Hunches in on himself. He’s always been a bit too good at making himself unseen. A bit better than he would like.

“Okay,” he agrees.

***

“They’re looking for us,” he whispers.

He tucks his face into Ed’s shoulder, wishes they could hug. A hug would make this better, he thinks, if he could just get his arms around to the front. If he could just hug, and be hugged, he’d wake up. They’d both wake up.

They’d both be at home in their beds. They’d be safe. Mom would make him hot chocolate like she always does after nightmares, and he’d check to see if the robin’s eggs outside his window had hatched, and he’d be okay.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back. “Yeah, they are.”

Around them, the car’s engine roars.

#steddie #stranger things #my writing #my fic #oh noooooo i wonder who ed could be #for those of you who remember me from my star trek days: no u don't

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kawaii-queen-kaiju · 1 month

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Lover

Maribat March - Prompt 21

Red Hood had only been in control of the Gotham drug scene for a year when she was first spotted. At first, the goon who'd seen her had thought he was hallucinating. After all, this brightly dressed woman just strutted into the Red Hood's lair like she owned the place. Bill had rushed to inform the boss that their hideout had been breached, but he was unavailable. He reluctantly retreated back to his post, anxiously awaiting the alarm. But it never came.

Bill told the other henchman, but none of them believed him. Surely, the intruder would've been caught.

He didn't dare try to tell the boss himself.

Then it happened again, though this time, she stopped to talk. She handed out cookies and told them to tuck in their shirts! The goons couldn't believe it. As soon as she came, the strange pixie left, the people she left behind stunned. Rumors started spreading about the nice woman who licked her thumb to wipe the gunk off of one of their faces.

Everyone believed Bill after that.

Red Hood had an important meeting with other crime bosses, and all the henchmen were in a state of panic, trying to make sure everything would run smoothly. The boss always got grumpy when these meetings came around, and a grumpy Red Hood was a scary Red Hood.

A resounding crash echoed through the warehouse, silence blanketing them all. Red Hood slowly turned the blank white gaze of his helmet toward the source, a poor Bill standing next to a toppled crate of the weaponry shipment… that was supposed to go out tonight.

Red Hood's deep, robotic sigh was heard on the other end of the warehouse, making several of the newer goons require new underpants.

"Oh no, what happened here?"

And just like that, they were saved. There she was, in all her five-foot-two glory, their guardian pixie frowning at the mess. Red Hood sharply inhaled, turning to face the woman. "Marinette?"

For the first time, Red Hood took off his helmet, revealing a baby-ish face, a domino mask, and black hair with a shock of white. Wait, he knew this woman?

Marinette smiled, striding towards him from the doorway she was standing in. "Hey, mon chere."

Mon chere?!

Red Hood cleared his throat nervously, blush rising to his cheeks. "W-What are you doing here?"

Marinette reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a handgun. "You forgot this." She said sweetly, passing it to him. Bill wasn't thinking all that clearly and spoke up over the silence. "You know her, boss?"

"Wha-? Of course I do- wait, do you?!" Red Hood turned toward Marinette, receiving a sheepish smile in return. "Well," She started, hands clasped behind her back. "You're not always available when I come to see you, and I happened to have some leftover cookies from movie night, so I passed them out!" She smiled up at Red Hood innocently, her glasses glinting in the harsh warehouse light. He turned back to her, crossing his arms, and no one would believe Bill when he told the story later, but Red Hood honest-to-God pouted at this small woman. "C'mon, Mari! I've got a rep to maintain here! Doing your whole routine is gonna mess it up!"

Marinette laughed, brushing her short hair behind her ear and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Oh, don't be like that. You're plenty scary, even with my leftovers. Besides, they won't say anything, right?" She turned her gaze to the rest of the warehouse, and all of a sudden her light, bubbly demeanor took on a hard edge. All the henchmen quickly voiced their agreements, eager to leave the strange alternate universe they'd entered, where Red Hood was the least scary thing in the room.

Just like that, her sunny smile was back, relieving the goons. "See? No problem! I'll see you at home!" Marinette breezed out of the warehouse, and Red Hood put his helmet back on, and they were back in reality. "Well?" His modified voice barked out, "we've got shit to do. Get moving!"

Bill was never going to look at Red Hood the same again. Not knowing he had that wonderfully terrifying woman as a lover.

Also, was it just him or did Red Hood seem awfully young?

#batman fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat march 2024 #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #jasonette #bill the henchman is there too #pixie cut mari w/glasses #cus I said so #I would use a different word at the end there #but the prompt is lover so

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p1nk-syr1nge · 1 year

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parental mercs?! 🥺 if you want parental merc requests, may i then request dad heavy, dad spy and dad engie headcanons??? 🥺🥺🥺

Mercs being parental towards the reader!!!! This is incredibly self indulgent by the way…

(also apologies for my absence y’all i’m severely mentally unwell rn,, )

Engie

Very doting guy, but just overall really cool and nice to hang out with.

Having a bad day? You can go hang out with him, if you need to talk then he’ll listen all about it and comfort you with a long, warm hug.

If you don’t want to talk about it, the hug offer is still there. He’ll still try and help you feel better the best he can…

Probably will try and tuck you into bed at night. He does the same with Pyro, and a few other mercs if they ask. A lil goodnight kiss, and wishing you sweet dreams.

Type of dad to teach you everything he knows in life. How to cook, grill, take care of yourself, ‘n all that funky stuff.

While you two were baking cookies, which you had offered to make for fun but didn’t know any recipes so Engie decided to help,you had gotten a glop of flour on your cheek. You were completely oblivious to it.

Almost on instinct he just licked the pad of his thumb and wiped off the gunk. Gross!! How unsanitary.

“UGH, dad…” You complained, without realizing what you called him. Though, all he gave was a kind smile, you can be sure he was wiping a happy tear once you were out of sight.

Heavy

Oh he’s quite protective of you… But tries not to be overbearingly so.

He tends to be firm with you, but he just wants to make sure you’re safe.

Heavy has a tendency of taking care of you like he did with his sisters. Making sure you’re at your best, you’re doing ok, and trying to make you smile.

If he’s comforting you, he will not beat around the bush. What’s the problem, here’s a solution. Although, he’ll hug you and say reassuring things about whatever is making you upset…

Fun to hang around, although he’s often quiet. So if all you’re looking for is peace and tranquility, you can probably find him in the base reading.

A long exhausting day, all you wanted was some quiet. So, looking for heavy, he was peacefully reading a novel that looked familiar, yet you couldn’t quite remember where you saw it from…

Sitting next to him, you made yourself comfortable. After a while, Heavy felt a weight on his side. Looking down to see you’ve fallen asleep…

With a gentle look, he carried you to bed and made sure you were safe and sound.

Spy

Though rather distant, he still has some father instincts left in him.

The type of dad that is constantly fixing your collar, the tag that stick out, etc…

If you go to him for advice he will not sugarcoat it, though will be a bit gentler if you seem visibly upset.

Not great at comforting people, but he’ll hold you and let you cry it out if that’s what you need. Realistically reassuring words and gentle pets on your head.

Will take you to places he thinks you’ll enjoy… maybe an aquarium or a stupidly fancy resturaunt.

Sighing at your antics on instinct, he was trying to be patient, really… But he just got a reservation for a show he was taking you to. You only had an hour to get ready, and you still looked like a mess…

So he was stuck finding a good outfit for you, something fancy enough for the event. You were both digging through your closet to find what items would go together and... oh! This will do nicely.

Smoothing out your collar, and patting your head. There was a proud look and smile upon his face. “You look great, but we are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”

#tf2 x reader #platonic #parental #Spy x reader #engineer x reader #heavy x reader #fatherly #team fortress 2 #this is my coping mechanism tbh

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loyal04 · 3 months

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Actually offense. The Percy Jackson Tv show had no suspense. Everything was stated out right we never got to wonder or be suspicious/surprised because everything was stated. Some Examples Medusa, The fates, Furies, EVEN CRUSTY FOR GODS SAKES. There was no build up, even the Summer solstice failed. It was supposed to be a DEADLINE but they went passed it and brushed that off in one convo with Zeus. Hades complete mood switch???? Why was Athena so petty?? Like yes Athena is most likely petty but she wouldn’t take a risk like that its, NOT smart.

Dont get me started on the last episode Traitor reveal. NO SUSPENSE No dramatic drop just. “Your the lightning thief..” LIKE BRO WHAT WHERES MY 60 SECONDS.

Im sorry to say this but I wasn’t content or happy with the tv show. Even the Cgi was weird and the fighting was terrible. The sparing they did with Luke and Percy was the best fight scene in that while show… and that is just sad. Even the fight with ARES was underwhelming. Im hoping they’ll take this criticism and really change that for season two I want dramatic drops, build up, TIME TO BREATH. MAYBE EVEN A LONG FIGHT? They drop so much lore and so fast you don’t have time to digest.

Im pissed about the May lore drop WE DIDNT KNOW ABOUT HER UNTIL BOOK 5. ANNABETH WASN’T EVEN ALLOWED INSIDE (or it was just the kitchen I believe) BUT STILL. Annabeth was almost as clueless as Percy if I remember correctly. Even if she wasnt she doesn’t have the right to spill that secret of Lukes like girl what?? Luke shouldn’t have told about Thalia but still at least she was his friend as well but his trauma about his mom was not yours to share also guilt tripping Hermes??

May’s fate wasn’t even really Hermes fault. He tried to talk her out of it and it was Hades who cursed the oracle in the first place. Im just so upset about all the secrets that were revealed early.

The acting didn’t have much emotion or I felt they portrayed it wrong. For instance Percy reacted to almost everything with the same face. The show was way to dry for my liking. Percy jackson is supposed to be funny. Sally kind of seemed like a mean mom iykwim. I mean she just had no patience for Percy at all and it constantly felt like she was guilt tripping him… no just me??? I get that shes a struggling and single parent but Whattt???? She’s supposed to be supportive, kind and loving. If I met that sally I wouldn’t expect her to sit me down in her kitchen offering us a blanket and cookies.

THEY DID GABE FOWL. They did him so poorly that man did not deserve to die sure he was a dead beat but seriously?? Tartarus would not smell like him. They should have just let him get divorced it would have made sense but turning him to stone?? For what being a lazy, grouchy stepdad??

Gabe in the book was abusive manipulated just a straight up Piece of sewer gunk. He HIT them he abused them and manipulated them into staying quiet. The entire scene with the cops and everything. The guy in the show tho?? He looks like he’d fall over from the raise of a hand bro wouldn’t even be able to throw a punch. He doesn’t even have a job?? He looks like the worst he would do is yell and make fun of you because he’s probably projecting because he’s completely useless but deserving death?? He was more of a nuisance he didn’t deserve to die being divorced and alone forever I can’t understand but seriously??

Also the Percabeth slow burn… they’re pushing it they were just friends in the first book maybe in the second we start getting into it. But seriously the first season? She just started opening up to him in the first book. WE DIDN’T EVEN GET THEIR TALK LIKE UGH WHAT I wanted the Annabeth backstory about her dad but they didn’t have the convo about her going home for the summer we didn’t get into it. They’re overcooking my 5 book long slow burn.

They stuffed to much into too short of episodes that we didn’t get time to breath or get to know our characters. It was just a one minute battles here and there, a few conversations about impending doom and Percy being sad about his mom like. I know I’m being Petty but they should have split most of those episodes into two so we had more time to learn about our characters or digest the info dumps. The first episodes had me reeling I swear my head was swirling. The characters themselves didn’t have time to breath “Oh your claimed by poseidon now you have to go on a deadly quest to find the master bolt everyone thinks you stole but we think hades stole it also he probably has your mom.” Why are they shoving everything in our face. Percy in the books had 3 DAYS to come to terms with his parentage but show percy had like a day AT MOST.

I don’t know, they just could have done so well but they didn’t. I swear Mikey mouse must have tied Rick to a chair no way he said yeah this is amazing or a good script decision. THERE WERE SO MANY PLOT HOLES or decisions that didn’t make any sense.

#pjo tv show #pjo tv series #opinion #just an opinion #dont need to agree it is just what I think #pjo spoilers #pjo series #show criticism #pjo show criticism #I apologize if I offended anyone

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rawmeknockout · 1 year

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Macaroons, human s/o and Sunstreaker with a breeding kink~

It's dumb. You're dumb. He shouldn't even be humoring you right now. It's totally unlike him to want to mingle with humans: their gross oily hands on his finely polished armor, their inane chatter, the way their cells get on everything. Sunstreaker can't hardly stand organics, especially not one's so squishy and chatty.

He pokes out his glossa to let the itty bitty organic treat touch his taste sensors, being careful not to let it slip out of his broad digits. Sunstreaker hates feeling clumsy, but just the slightest twitch and that gross organic treat could actually end up in his system. Gunking things up. But you light up when he lets his glossa poke at the confection, so Sunstreaker doesn't recoil immediately. The taste of something organic and greasy melts onto his glossa.

You're chattering about how you made these cookies, all the 'special little touches' you added to make it your own. A macaroon. It sounds like something Mirage, that pompous Towers' mech, would name a pet. Sunstreaker just grunts and watches you with sour face.

You would make a great carrier. Ugh, if Sideswipe ever knew he was thinking that he would never hear the end of it. Sunstreaker tries to shove that thought waaay deep down, but all it does is stir his array's interest. Would you like that? Being a carrier for his sparklings? Your kind coos and coddles newbuilds, an almost planet-wide appreciation for pudgy cheeks and wide eyes. No wonder Bumblebee is so popular.

It would be nice to be a youngling on Earth, it would certainly be nicer than Sunstreaker's own upbringing, and if he were to bring any little hellspawn into the Universe... Well, he would want it to be here. With someone like you. Who chatters and purrs about your mundane baked goods, and chases after Sideswipe when his pranks are too mean, and carefully guides Sunstreaker's broad servos over your bare skin when you're finally, blissfully alone.

The sour grimace on Sunstreaker's face lightens up just the slightest bit as he listens to you, the heat of affection making his face soften.

#txt #asks #reader insert #reader imagine #transformers #transformers generation 1 #transformers g1 #tf g1 #sunstreaker #g1 sunstreaker #tf sunstreaker

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darkisrising · 2 years

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becoming who we are, by DarkIsRising

Here’s my @steter-bang fic that I teased way back when. CW for grief, and off screen parent death. (It’s not all sad, though, I promise...)

becoming who we are

It happens when the cookie platters are nothing but crumbs, when the casserole dishes are down to their last corner pieces, when the flowers that fill the living room are starting to wilt. That’s when the doorbell rings, and it takes a minute for Stiles to remember that it’s locked because that’s something he can do now that the door has stopped opening every ten minutes for people to come in and out, in and out, in and out.

When he does remember he jolts to his feet, untangling the blankets from his knees and kicking aside the pile up of shoes in the narrow space between the sofa and the coffee table. It’s a bad habit to toe his shoes off there and Stiles knows he’ll get an earful from his dad when he—

But, no. He won’t.

Not anymore, he has to remind himself.

Funny how the brain can work like that.

It’s been days since the funeral. Longer since he’d boarded a plane back to Beacon Hills. Longer still since the call from the hospital had come in looking to talk to Noah Stilinski’s next of kin. He held his father’s cold hand through a viewing, listened to eulogies from deputies who took over when he was too choked up to say anything himself, and watched somber men ease the coffin onto a gussied up pit in the ground. Stiles has accepted it as much as a person can accept death, and yet still, still, still his brain will glitch, will wonder why his dad’s still not home yet, will plan out meals to prevent a heart attack that’s already happened.

Stiles isn’t going to cry because he’s been there, done that, and now he’s just numb. Numb and tired and probably massively dehydrated if the sticky, filmy gunk in the corners of his mouth is anything to go by. He’s not in the mood for much beyond staring blankly at the tv screen while it flickers through shows he barely notices, maybe making a dent in the cases of beer Scott had filled the bottom of the fridge with two days ago.

He’s sure as shit not in the mood to open the front door to see Peter Hale waiting on the porch, a bevy of reusable tote bags at his feet. Read on ao3

#teen wolf #steter #steter bang #darkisrising fic

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gunkbaby · 1 year

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got the new femboy cookie 3 times in my first pull so. Um. yeah

#gunk #cookie gunk #crk #queue #british people love to queue #cookie run

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cr0wc0rpse · 4 months

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I forgot that having a job and getting paid means I get money and I haven’t checked my bank account since my last 2(?) paychecks so I was like oh I should probably check since I got paid yesterday. And so I checked and went woah! There’s stuff in here

#huge win #I still don’t actually have a proper consistent schedule. but. hopefully I will soon #working 10 hours kind of sucks ngl but at least it hasn’t been 5 days a week #still crazy that I am employed now. I do primarily grunt tasks (as in like. less detailed work that’s usually for other people)#but that’s expected due to my 0 technical culinary knowledge or experience. also I’m fine with this #i do hate doing cookies though. every part of it sucks. had to do them today. my apron was so covered in crust and gunk #anyway. yaaay getting paid #dead text

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koolkat9 · 1 year

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A Little Christmas Magic

Rating: T

Relationship: ACE family

Word Count: 920

Author's Note: Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone. It's only Christmas Eve for me, but I knew I probably wouldn't have time to post a fic tomorrow.

Read on AO3

The fire whipped and cackled within the hearth. The house moaned and quivered as the storm attempted to penetrate the cozy little corner Father had set up for them.

Matthew was sick again. It had started with pasty white skin, followed by tremors, topped off by fever and a terrible cough. Matthew always got sick, but Alfred had never seen it this bad. Which was why he had refused to leave Matthew’s side since he awakened this morning like this.

“You…You should go make cookies with Father,” Matthew whispered. His voice had never been strong, but it sounded even weaker now. Alfred gripped his brother’s hand tighter.

“And leave you alone? No way,” Alfred huffed.

“Alfred…”

“You don’t deserve to be alone on Christmas.”

"One, it's only Christmas Eve, and two, the Kitchen is one room over. It would only be for a few hours." Matthew's last sentence was punctuated by a coughing fit. He hacked and wheezed, unable to catch his breath.

Alfred frantically looked between his brother and the kitchen door where Father was currently baking. He didn't want to leave Matthew alone, but he didn't know how to help either.

"Daddy…Daddy Mattie is…" Coughing? No, it was worse than that. Choking? Not breathing? Tears welled up in Alfred's eyes.

But luckily, Father jumped in, helping Matthew sit up. He patted his ill son on the back, trying to loosen the gunk in his lungs. “Shh…It’s alright dear. Shhhhh. Here, try to drink.”

Father lifted a glass to Matthew’s chapped lips and helped him take small sips. Finally, the coughing was over. Matthew lay exhausted against Arthur’s chest. “Poor lad,” Arthur muttered, scooping the tired boy into his lap. He rubbed up and down his back gently. “And on Christmas too.”

Alfred leaned against Father’s arm. “Is Mattie going to be okay?” he sniffled.

“He will be. The winters are particularly hard on him. But he always makes it through.”

Father spoke fervently, almost as if he was trying to reassure more than just Alfred. Alfred hoped that theory was wrong. He buried his face into his father’s sleeve.

“Whatever shall I do,” Father moaned overdramatically, “Both my sons are miserable on Christmas Eve. We can’t leave it that way.” He looked around. “Ah! Alfred, watch Mattie for a moment.”

Rising to his feet and placing Matthew back on the couch, Father headed upstairs.

Alfred scooted closer to Matthew, reaching for his hand once more. Matthew sat up and crawled over to his brother, slumping against him. In turn, Alfred wrapped an arm around him.

“Thank you,” Matthew rasped, “It gets lonely in the winter.”

“What?”

“The cold…Scares everyone away…Those who stay shut themselves in and hope they’ll all make it to spring.”

“Mattie…”

“Papa didn’t know how to deal with it. He tried to take me to France, but that made it worse, he left me with doctors, but…” Matthew sniffled. “But…”

“Now, now Matthew,” Father said gravely, striding into the room, “We needn’t get wrapped up in the past. We must embrace the present. Speaking of present…” He presented two neatly wrapped heaps to the boys. “An early Christmas present to liven all of our spirits.”

Alfred eagerly took the package while Father set Matthew’s package on Matthew’s lap.

“Are you sure Daddy?” Matthew asked. His tiny hands hovered over the present though he didn’t dare touch it.

Father smiled warmly and nodded. “Of course poppet. Why else would I bring them out?”

Alfred had already torn through half of the wrapping when Matthew made his first dent into it.

Father watched them with absolute glee. The boys had never seen him so excited, they didn’t think it was even possible. But they couldn’t linger on it, they had a mission.

When all the wrapping was tossed to the side, two bears remained, each crocheted with care.

“They match!” Alfred cheered, making his brown bear hug Matthew’s face.

Matthew giggled. “Yeah!” He turned to Father, hugging his white bear against his chest. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Yes, thank you!” Alfred exclaimed, jumping at Father and hugging him tightly.

Arthur smiled, ruffling both of their hair. “You’re quite welcome. Those are the kinds of faces I want to see. Now, while the maids start dinner and we wait for the cookies to bake, how about a few Christmas stories?”

“Yes!” The boys cried in unison.

“Okay okay. Alfred. How about you choose our first story?”

Alfred beamed and rushed over to the bookshelf, returning with a small, leather-bound book. A collection of children’s poems that Father wrote for him when he was first born.

Father picked up Matthew and placed him on his lap while Alfred climbed back up on the couch and cuddled into his side. Father took the book from Alfred and began to read.

Just as Father had promised, They read stories all until dinner time. Though, by the time the maids had set everything out, Matthew had fallen asleep.

“What will we do?” Alfred asked as he watched his dad cover Matthew with a blanket.

“Let him sleep. I’ll prepare him some broth later when he wakes up. Now go wash up.”

“Okay.” He rushed towards the door but froze. He ran back to Matthew and kissed his forehead before disappearing to wash his hands.

Father chuckled. “That boy…” He too kissed Matthew’s forehead, the skin sparkling with magic where his lips had lingered. “Rest my darling, surely you’ll be better come tomorrow with a bit of Christmas magic.”

#hetalia #ace family #hws america #hws england #hws canada #royal red bros #atlantic bros #na bros #father son relationship #fluff #hurt comfort #sick fic #christmas fluff #christmas 2022 #christmas #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #hws

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