#also i think Swatch would have to take care of the damn issue. but another problem is that i hc them as terrified of maus too

[astrito]

bu *lo asusta*

[fauveshumankaiju]

uncle Ni...

He told Ni first.

Actually, he didn’t tell anyone at first. He threw up in the bathroom of the family practice clinic, then sat on the bench in front of the parking lot for an hour before driving to CVS to get mouthwash and splash some water on his face at the drinking fountain outside. After a little bit of vacillating he also grabbed some prenatal vitamins on the way out. If all else failed, he could always take them while not pregnant, after all. Baby vitamins probably wouldn’t hurt adult Rodan.

Then he sat at the beach for another hour, watching the water lap at the sand. It was fall and chilly and overcast, even in Monsuta, which was rarely properly cold.

He thought, for the first time in a while, about his own family. Wondered how they were doing, wherever they were. They didn’t seem to want to have a lot to do with him – he wondered if they would if they knew that he was involved with a foreign billionaire. He wondered if they knew how much he’d changed since he saw them last. Not that he particularly cared to find out.

One hand resting on his stomach, he stared up at the white sky and thought about what kind of a parent he’d make, if he ended up being one. It’d been a month, apparently; he couldn’t remember what he’d done in that past month, but he was a chemist. He handled all kinds of weird teratogens, he’d had a few glasses of wine, he definitely hadn’t taken his prenatal folate supplements. His brain was helpfully providing him with all the weird mutations he’d learned about in his undergrad intro to biochem courses, which really was NOT helping the anxiety. Of course he’d fuck this up before it even started.  How was he supposed to know he should be looking out for getting knocked up? He was a man, for god’s sakes, his anatomy was different from most, sure, but he dutifully stuck himself in the ass with a syringe once a month to claim the right to shave, sweat like a stuck hog and, oh, yeah, not get pregnant.  Turns out the last purported effect of hormones was false advertising.

After some more staring and shivering in misery, he went home.  Home being the Ghidorah’s apartment downtown – at least one of the brothers was bound to be there at any point in time and Rodan had a spare key if they weren’t. Ichi was usually flying around the world or in a conference call; Ni was in and out of town doing his own inscrutable work, but at least San might be there.

I can’t face San, he thought sickly as he locked his bike in the underground garage and keyed in to the elevator. He thought of San’s sharp, gentle face, the boyish joy on it when he found something new and interesting to play with. He would say whatever Rodan wanted him to say - even now that Rodan didn’t know what that would be. He’d bend over backwards to make Rodan happy even if it wasn’t what the Ghidorahs wanted. Rodan would say – “I wanna do this, high speed low drag, let’s have this baby and raise it and be domestic and shit, congrats on your new heir, I guess, I promise I didn’t do this intentionally to trap you and your rich powerful brothers into a relationship with me or something like that,” and San would be game. He could also say “I’m telling you this just to let you know, but there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna let this thing live rent-free in the body I spent my life trying to get, so it’s eviction time.” And San would be game for that, too.

San would be a pretty good dad, Rodan thought. Masochistic tendencies aside he was gentle and attentive to the things he wanted to keep safe.  He thought of the Dane bobbing a toddler on his knee while he watched cadaver dissection films and huffed in amusement.

The elevator up to the penthouse apartment had bizarre club-like lighting, low and purple-blue. It stuck out to him right now for some reason. Rodan studied himself in the elevator mirror as it dinged upwards. Small, lean, dressing nicer than he used to in black jeans and a bright button-down but still sporting his old red leather jacket and combat boots. He leaned in closer, staring himself in the eyes, evaluating. The face in the mirror looked back at him, brazen and daring.

30 and still sporting a mohawk. Bitching.  Didn’t look like much of a father, though.

Daddy, his mind (un)helpfully supplied.

The elevator opened and he let himself into the one door on the other side of the anteroom. Theirs was the only place on the top floor of the building; it had the best view of the city, the Monsuta bay arcing out into the distance through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, the glinting buildings on view in Ichi’s rarely-used bedroom. Rodan liked the view, but the building itself was always a little cold for his taste.

He kicked off his boots into the hall closet when he got in, jangling his keys as advance warning.

“I’m home!” he called. He’d been out for the past few days and staying overnight at his own apartment, since it was closer to work. San had been bothering him about moving in with them for weeks but Rodan liked to try to preserve this last vestige of independence while he still could – the Ghidorahs were overgenerous with him, but life had always taught Rodan that other people’s kindness came with strings attached.

“On the couch,” Niels called from the long, flat couch in the living room.

Rodan dropped his shopping bag on the counter and joined the middle brother on the couch.  Ni was dressed in a devastatingly fashion-forward flightsuit, the top zipped down and tied about his waist over a sleeveless turtleneck. His eyes flicked upwards as Rodan collapsed onto the couch next to him – he didn’t respond, as usual.

“How’s it going?” Rodan ventured. It was hard to tell, with Ni, whether he was in a conversational mood, but it seemed rude not to greet him. Not that the middle Ghidorah ever had any compunction about that.

Ni was on his desk-sized tablet, surrounded by fabric swatches and upholstery books like a king holding a very strange patchwork court.  Peeking at the screen on his lap Rodan saw a collage of floor plans and schematics, probably for the Xilien apartment complex that was nearing completion on the south side of Monsuta. Once the building was done, Ni and San would get to work decorating while Ichi took care of the business side of the development business. Ichi didn’t talk about work at home, though, so Rodan’s familiarity with the corporation came mostly from watching Ni fling inspiration images across his tablet screen and fume over comically large paper architecture diagrams.

“Fine,” Ni tapped his pencil against his lips. “We are getting somewhere, finally.”

“Yeah?”

“M-hm. The issue with the climate control – it has all been sorted out. I’m going to start finishing the walls next week.”

“Wow, that’s a quick turnaround time for contracting.”

“Ech, there are only so many painting companies in this town, and they can only refuse so many of our generous offers.  Principles, money. No contest.” He sounded satisfied, which explained his unusually effusive mood.  After a second, he remembered politeness. “How are you?”

“Pregnant.”

“H-what?”

Rodan tapped himself on the stomach and smiled thinly.

Ni’s eyebrows shot up to his fringe. A moment. He cocked his head owlishly.  Rodan pursed his lips and nodded.

“How?”

“Are you asking about the mechanics? Because it’s like-“ Rodan made a circle with one thumb and forefinger and stuck the other pointer finger inside. “-you know..”

“Jesus kristus, stop that!”

“You do know something about sex, right? They had sex ed back in Denmark?”

Ni set his tablet briskly on the coffee table and collected himself for a second. Rodan almost had the good sense to be scared. Ni was normally restrained, cool and aloof, but this wasn’t a normal situation. This was a very Ni-will-lose-his-cool-and-get-real-scary situation.

“They don’t know about it yet,” Rodan supplied quickly. “I don’t know how to tell them. If. I tell them. I don’t need to, I could just take care of it on my own and it won’t be a problem. I thought that one of you should know about it, at least, so you can weigh in on it, since on a molecular level it’s technically genetically your kid too, so you have a say in what happens, and if you’re angry then at least I know Ichi definitely will be to so I can just figure out what to do based on what you do-“

Ni cut him off with a single finger and an icy stare. He’d pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head after rubbing his face.

“... You talk so much.”

“Yeah, bastard, I’m nervous.”

“You think that we’re going to be unhappy about it.”

Rodan exhaled and settled back into the couch. Damn uncomfortable piece of furniture. “Well, yeah. I’m not exactly-“ he gestured at himself “prime 1-percent relationship material.”

Ni didn’t respond, staring at him.

“Not that I think I’m less than you guys, obviously, it’s just – if you had the choice, you probably would have wanted to be tied down to someone else. Someone you could be seen out with and not worry about what some gossip site would say about you slumming with your trashy American boyfriend. Someone Ichi could take to dinner parties in Europe, someone who could take San out every night when he gets into his weird moods, someone you could trust.  And this whole thing is just going to tie you down to me, and then I’m going to…” let you down, he thought lamely.

Ni was still staring at him. Rodan swallowed and looked away with weak finality.

In one swift movement the Dane swung over to the far side of the couch, slamming one leg down over Rodan’s lap to straddle him and planting his hands on his shoulders, pushing him into the couch. Rodan cursed and tried to grab his arms to push him off but he got batted away. Fuck, he forgot how strong Ni was. All that construction and jiu jitsu. Well, if he had to die, this wasn’t the worst way to go, strangled by his lovers’ twin brother.

But Ni wasn’t trying to kill him, at least not right now. In fact, it felt almost like he was trying to be gentle, which felt as unnatural as his attempts at speaking Spanish sounded.  His grip was soft as he raised a hand, reaching out to touch Rodan’s face, before deciding against it and resting it on his shoulder again. Rodan let out the breath he was holding.

“If they find out, they are going to do everything in their power to convince you to keep them.”

“Why would they do that?” Rodan breathed. Ichi, he meant. San, he couldn’t imagine having a strong opinion on his potential fatherhood.

“Because they’re our blood,” Ni said slowly, looking down at Rodan’s chest. “The thing that separates us from the rest of the world, those crass dumb creatures that we have to deal with outside, is our blood. It ties us together. It makes us who we are.  It’s inescapable and irrefutable. And now you share that blood, too. You and the children you’d have are part of our family no matter what. You understand that, Rodan, yes? You are part of our family now. You are Ghidorah.”  He clapped Rodan’s cheeks in his hands, part slap and part affectionate tap, like he always did to San. “If you talk about yourself like you did I’ll get very angry with you. You are Ghidorah. Nobody insults Ghidorah, even a Ghidorah.”

“You’re not… mad?”

Ni shrugged, then made a circle with the fingers of one hand and stuck his other hand’s pointer finger in. “I don’t know what else I expected when this started happening.”

“Yeah, well, my bad. I didn’t do my research.”

“Neither did we.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Ni, you’re, like, 99% not the father.”

“Genetically, you said, I might as well be.”

“Well – yeah, you got me there.” Rodan sighed, feeling himself relax. Then, a little more seriously - “So what do you think I should do?”

Ni looked down at him, arms crossed, his face arranged into a carefully neutral mask. “Do whatever you like. Don’t worry about Ichi and San, though. Your children will want for nothing with us as their fathers.  Just don’t tell them about your having them right now unless you’re completely sure you want to have the children.”

“Children?” Rodan scoffed. “Plural? No way in hell I’m doing this again. If I’m doing this at all.”

“Oh, of course,” Ni said casually. “They’re going to be twins, at least.”

“Oh! Are they.”

“Yes. They’re Ghidorah.”

“That’s a pretty bold declaration, Doctor Niels.”

“And mark my words, it’s true. We always come in multiples.”  Ni swung off of Rodan’s lap and pushed himself back into his couch corner where he stretched himself over the armrest like a cat.  Rodan suddenly missed his weight and the spicy smell of his aftershave and he had to mentally slap himself down when he had the split-second urge to go crawl into Ni’s lap. He might be surprisingly cool with being an uncle, but that didn’t mean that Rodan could push the tenuous peace that he’d been trying to build since they’d met.

He rested his head on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Uncle Niels. He’d probably give the best presents.  Ni was up all night most nights anyway, he could feed the kid if they woke up. Probably not with the rest of the messy childcare business, but Rodan and San could probably take care of that, and Ni might even end up liking the kid once they were old enough to hold a conversation.

Oh, god, here he was thinking like he’d already made some kind of decision. What would Mothra do in this situation? She was the most has-her-shit-together person that he knew. She’d probably make a list of pros and cons, and then Goji would encourage her to stop thinking so hard about it and go with her gut, and then – yeah, not helpful.

Who was he kidding?  He was Rodan Rodan. He lived his life on the razor’s edge. He burned down a building and got himself tied up in a relationship with the violent-minded billionaires who owned it. Equations were for the lab, and even then, Rodan did his best work when he forgot about measurements and mathematics and went with his gut.  That’s what got him here, a priceless apartment in a beachside city with a job he loved and a life that never stopped being interesting and terrifying and beautiful. With three interesting and terrifying and beautiful partners who might consider staying with him here for a little while.

How do you feel, right now? He asked himself. Ni’s stylus tapped; the heating had turned on. Outside the clouds were boiling but the two of them were safe together, peaceful.

He didn’t know where he’d be in eight months, how he’d feel then, but right now? He smiled. He’d go with his gut.

[sotheywrotestories]

Damned and Unrequited  |peter parker x reader| (Chapter Twenty)

Warnings: Swearing, panic, arguing

Series Masterlist

Listen Here

                                                             ***

Peter was in a sour mood all night. He didn’t even have his usual quips when fighting crime.

(Y/N) had so coldly ripped his heart out, but didn’t seem to care. She didn’t return to the Parker’s apartment, MJ hadn’t seen her, and Tony Stark was busy.

Of course, Peter was worried about her, but he also couldn’t care less. It was her decision to walk away, and it was her decision to talk to Peter like that.

She’ll never love Peter in the same way? Never ever? There’s absolutely NO CHANCE that she can love him? Who is she to say? She couldn’t know. And could never. Is there something wrong with him? Why could she never love him? Or was that just her way of saying she didn’t want to?

Karen had to tell Peter where to go multiple times, to stop him from webbing himself straight into a building or billboard.

Which lead to Peter sitting, brooding on the edge of a building, staring into the city, waiting for Tony to call him back.

He didn’t.

But it didn’t matter to Peter. It would be better if he didn’t have to see (Y/N) tomorrow anyway. He knew he would only ignore her all day, anyway, so if she wasn’t there it would’ve been easier to ignore her.

Pretend she wasn’t there.

But some part of him, the rational, lovable part, begged for him to look for her. To call her. To try and track her phone to make sure she did not go back to her father’s apartment, knowing that that’s something she would for just to spite him.

He didn’t want to be responsible for her harm, though he has been in the past.

And what if she didn’t make it home? What if she got caught somewhere on the streets…?

But that was a small part of him. Not the unhappy, “don’t look at me I’m angry” part.

So Peter went home, crawled into bed (ignoring the smell (Y/N) had left on his sheets) with a plan to completely ignore her the next day.

                                                            ***

It wasn’t hard for Peter to act as though (Y/N) didn’t exist. He had made his way to school, escaping May’s scrutinizing gaze, taking the subway on his own, and meeting Ned at his locker.

He had seen her. Once. At the beginning of school, huddled by her locker in the same clothes she had been wearing at the diner.

But there was a lot going on. A lot to take his mind off of it. Like Homecoming. Savannah was still not happy but had given Peter a swatch of fabric he had to match for Homecoming.

But Peter (or a small part of him) didn’t care. And why should he? Savannah wasn’t a good person, (Y/N) had been right about that. She was always pushing for Peter to drop his friends. She was always badmouthing (Y/N), and though Peter had quite a few things to say to (Y/N at this time, he couldn’t bring himself to be so rude to her…behind her back, anyway.

But what was he supposed to do? Break it off now? Were they dating? Were they together? Peter never asked her to be his girlfriend but he did ask her to the dance and people tend to start dating after dances….

But who knew anymore. There was too much going on for Peter to really know what was going on. He made it through his first few classes with little issue. He just couldn’t think about (Y/N).

He figured he would discuss it over lunch with Ned and MJ.

How horrible of him to assume that Ned and MJ wouldn’t immediately scramble to comfort (Y/N).

Ned sat with Peter in the beginning, and so Peter thought MJ was just late.

“Here’s what happened,” Peter said, ready to lay down the truth.

“I know what happened, Peter,” Ned rolled his eyes. “(Y/N) called me right after your fight.”

Peter scrunched up his nose. “She called you?”

“MJ was busy,” Ned shrugged. “Peter you can’t stay mad at her forever.”

“I won’t,” Peter scoffed. “…but I don’t really want to hang out with her anymore.”

“Because she doesn’t like you back?” Ned nearly cried. “Because she doesn’t see herself in a relationship with you? You can’t take no for an answer?”

Peter’s eyes widened at Ned’s sudden outburst.

“Look,” Ned sighed, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You can’t drop a bomb like that on a close friend, who you’ve been pushing away for another girl. I mean, MJ and (Y/N) were going through enough knowing you were getting more and more distant, which I know a lot of it comes from being Spider-Man, something they don’t know-“

“(Y/N) knows,” Peter muttered. “She found out after the whole ‘New Saviors’ thing.”

Ned rolled his eyes again, his hand falling from Peter’s shoulder.

“Nobody knows anything about you, what’s going on in your life, who you’re dating, clearly not who you’re in love with,” this was paired with a sharp glare. “So you can’t be mad when we get confused, or frustrated.”

Peter wanted to snap back, but Ned had stood up, leaving the table to go sit with MJ and (Y/N), who were sitting on the floor against the wall.

And he had never felt more alone in his life.

                                                             ***

“Peter?” May walked into her nephew’s room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, lying on his side, his back facing the door.

“What happened with (Y/N)?” May asked, sitting next to Peter and rubbing his back. “Did she find a place to stay?”

“Guess so,” Peter nearly growled.

“Whoa,” May leaned back. “What happened?”

“We got into a fight,” Peter rolled over. “She said she could never love me.”

May furrowed her eyebrows, her hand not leaving his back.

“You’re mad at her because she doesn’t like you back?” May pulled away.

“No, I don’t mean to sound like that…but the way she said it…she could never love me back…is there something wrong with me?”

“No, baby, no,” May shushed Peter, kissing his forehead. “No, but sometimes people can’t see themselves in relationships with their friends. Maybe one day you can date…but love is a very strong word. I know you think you love her-“

“I do love her,” Peter frowned, turning to lie on his back. “I know I love her.”

“Okay,” May smiled tightly. “So you love her. But she doesn’t know she loves you. She says she can never love you because she hasn’t been in love before. Plus, I thought you had a girlfriend?”

Peter closed his eyes, not sure how to answer his aunt’s question.

“I don’t know. Is she your girlfriend if you’re just going to the dance together?” Peter asked, his eyes still closed.

“Most high-schoolers consider that dating,” May laughed. “…do you not like your date?”

“I did,” Peter said. “But she doesn’t mix with my friends well. She doesn’t like them and my friends are really important to me.”

“Your friends, or (Y/N)?” May teased.

“I mean, yeah, (Y/N), but also MJ and Ned. She can’t remember their names, and she’s always asking me to stop hanging out with them-“

“She asked you to stop hanging out with them?” May sat straighter. “Peter, I’m not going to tell you who to date or how to live your life, but you have to recognize that as toxic. Your girlfriend should never control who it is you’re friends with, especially since you’ve been friends with Ned for so long. She doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”

Peter knew his aunt was right. He knew what Savannah had asked of him was…controlling at least. But she was only in love, right? That was normal. For her to be so jealous and controlling. It was…endearing?

“Peter,” May called for his attention. “You need to decide who is more important. Your friends, or your girl.”

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