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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

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Bath Bomb

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Bakugou

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"Come on, girls! Let's go here next!"

You giggled with your friends as you hurried to keep close with one another in the crowded street. Today was one of your bi-annual girls' day out with all your gal pals from the former class A.

It so happened that this outing was planned and organized by Yaomomo, and she had decided to take you all on a shopping trip to Harajuku. Everyone was already laden with bags, some even assisted by Ochaco in lightening the heavier ones.

The store Momo had pointed to was a quaint LUSH store, where pink neon lights glowed in the windows.

All seven of you eagerly crowded into the store, breaking off into smaller groups to wander around. You ended up with Toru and Mina, wandering over to one of the walls packed nearly floor to ceiling with colorful bath bombs.

"Look at them all," Toru breathed, carefully bringing one up to her invisible nose for a sniff.

You walked around with them, occasionally pointing out a particularly cutely shaped or colorful one.

Suddenly, you felt a hand alight on your arm. "(Y/N)!" Mina said, barely stifling a giggle. "Look at that one!"

Your eyes followed the direction her finger pointed, finally landing on an egg-shaped turquoise bath bomb. Except, it wasn't meant to be an egg. This was unmistakably a grenade.

"Oh, I get it," you said. "Bath bomb, and it's a grenade. That is pretty funny."

"Well, yeah, but what I meant was—" Mina paused to grin and wiggle her eyebrows at you. "I think you might be able to enjoy that with a certain explosive someone, perhaps?"

Heat flooded into your cheeks as you realized she was talking about your fiancé, Bakugou Katsuki. Now that she mentioned it, it did remind you of him. The mold it had come from was similar to the very real explosives he kept on his hero belt.

"You should totally get it!" she went on, practically bouncing on her toes.

You picked one up, feeling its shape and weight. It was easily the size of your palm, and you finally let your hand take it up to your nose for a quick sniff. Lavender and rosemary greeted your senses. It was a very pleasant mix and you held it up so Mina could get a whiff of her own.

"Mmm," she said, briefly fluttering her eyelids closed. "Yep. You're getting that."

She pulled you with her so you could grab a tray together, gently placing it in the little holder. Everyone browsed for another twenty minutes or so before finally checking out. You had decided on an additional bath bomb for yourself along with something called a bubble bar, but you were truly the most excited about the distinct blue-green grenade that innocently rested at the bottom of your bag. As your group left the store, you couldn't wait for a chance to try out what you'd bought. It would be a nice way to surprise Katsuki when he got home. Additionally, it provided an excuse to relax together and spend time in each other's presence.

You had to snap yourself out of a quick daydream you'd begun to sink into in order to answer Jirou, silently grinning to yourself in anticipation for what was to come.

. . . . . . . .

Not three days later, you finally found your chance.

You got home earlier than he did, which was normal. As you began your routine of amusing yourself while you waited for Katsuki to come home, you felt a buzz emanating from your pocket. It turned out to be a call from none other than your fiancé himself, Bakugou.

"Hey, babe, what's up?" you said into the phone, uncertain as to why he was calling.

"Just wanted to let you know I'm coming home early," his gruff voice came through. "Do you want anything for dinner? I know it's been awhile since we've had that takeout you like."

Your eyes lit up. "You'd do that?"

Katsuki grumbled on his end of the phone, however you could hear that there was no malice behind it. "Yes. I don't understand why you like it so much, especially because of how bad for you it is and when my cooking is so much better, but I'll get it. For you."

"Thank you so much!"

"Whatever."

Thus went most of your conversations with the blond. You were used to it by now, so you merely smiled. "I love you."

Katsuki's voice abruptly changed to tender. "I love you too."

Your smile only brightened as the end-call tone sounded in your ear. You loved everything about Katsuki, even his overly boorish nature. It only made the moments he let it slip all the sweeter. You knew you were the only one who got to witness that softer side to him, and it made your heart swell every time.

You flopped back into position on your couch, mind beginning to wander through possibilities of what you could do during your evening with Bakugou. You quickly remembered the little bath bomb you had shoved into the back of the bathroom cabinet. That would be perfect! You decided to wait until after dinner and then surprise him with the little plan that was already beginning to take form within your mind.

The lock on your door clicked a few minutes later, alerting you that Bakugou had come home. You rose to greet him, strolling into the kitchen to see him setting a bag down on the counter.

You walked up to his side and pecked him on the cheek. "Welcome home, babe."

Katsuki's vermilion eyes met yours as you leaned into him, draping an arm around his waist. "Hey."

"How was work?"

"Not bad," he answered, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling out two glasses, handing one to you.

You grabbed the bag and went to your little table, going back into the kitchen to fill your cup with ice and water once Katsuki was done. The two of you settled at the table, taking out the boxes of food he'd bought for you.

"So why did they let you off early?" you inquired, plunging your chopsticks into a personal container of noodles.

"Dumbass advisor told me to go home," he answered. "Villain hit me with their quirk or something and I got a little dinged up."

"Are you alright?" you asked, suddenly concerned.

"Of course. They just told me to stay in and rest. Pathetic, thinking I'm weak or some shit."

"'Tsuki, you know he just cares about you."

Bakugou made his classic tch noise, scowling back down into his mixed vegetables. "The only reason I agreed to leave was so that I could spend more time with you."

You looked back to him, hoping to catch those ruby eyes of his. He refused to offer them, however, and you eventually gave up, going back to your food.

"I know you don't see me as often as you'd like to," he continued, his voice little more than a mutter. "It's been a while since we've been able to spend a day together, let alone plan our—our wedding."

It was true. Even today, for Katsuki, he'd gotten home early, but you weren't blind to the fact that it was already half past seven. Some nights you'd be up until nearly two AM, waiting for his footsteps to come in through your door. You never ceased to stay awake for him, however, filling some of your free time with planning for your wedding ceremony. Bakugou was letting you handle most of it, although it wasn't as though he had much choice. That didn't stop you from trying to include him any way you could; occasionally talking over what you'd thought of and decided on that day while the two of you lay in bed together. Sometimes lying alone with one another in cool darkness were the only moments you could share, quietly conversing until one of you fell victim to the sleep that had been pressing at the backs of both of your eyes for the last few hours.

You had to hope that one day it would get better. Someday, he may be able to catch more breaks. Maybe someday, society would be fixed so that crime would dwindle to nearly nothing. But that someday was far, far away, if it even would ever come at all. All you could do was be thankful that Katsuki loved his job and rarely got injured. It brought in good money too, with his position so high at the top. The only thing that mattered was that he somehow walked in through that door at the end of each day, no matter what time it was or how long the two of you had gone without sleep. No matter what, you'd always be there, waiting for him.

Your hand snaked its way across the table to settle on top of Katsuki's, finally getting him to look up at you. "It's okay," you assured him. "You're here now. I couldn't be happier."

You both sat, looking at each other in a silent moment, his palm having turned to take yours, thumb gently stroking the outside of your hand.

Flicking your eyes down, you let a small smile creep onto your lips. "I actually have a little surprise for you," you said. "It's for after dinner."

Bakugou breathed out a little laugh in a singular huff, going back to consuming your "shitty takeout" food. "Do you, now?"

"Uh huh."

You could tell he was curious. Bakugou wasn't really one who was much for surprises, but he trusted you.

It wasn't too much longer before you finished your meal, taking the cardboard containers and stuffing them back into the bag they had come from. Bakugou put the glasses on the counter next to the sink while you tied up the trash bag and tossed it out, double checking that the table was clear and clean.

"Ready?" you asked, running your hand down his forearm until it met his own, intertwining your fingers.

"Sure."

"Let's get started, then."

You led him to the bathroom, letting go of his hand so you could turn on the tap for your bathtub. It was just the right size for the two of you to comfortably sit together in, and this was hardly your first time doing so.

"You wanted me to take a bath?" Katsuki asked, watching you adjust the temperature.

"Well, yes, but—" you turned and strode over to the cabinet, rummaging around for the object of interest. You pulled out the bag, reaching in to show off the little grenade. "Ta-da!"

Bakugou looked at it, slightly unimpressed. "What is it?"

"It's a bath bomb," you explained. "I saw it the other day when I was out shopping with the girls and it reminded me of you." You watched his expression, but it hadn't really changed. "So are you interested?"

Katsuki finally let the smallest of smiles grace his lips. "Sure. I was planning on showering here anyway. A bath will do."

"Am I invited?" you asked, just to make sure.

"Of course you are, dumbass," he said, looking nearly offended that you might have thought otherwise.

"Well, then. Let's get to it."

The two of you started stripping off your clothes, discarding them on the floor. When you glanced up at Bakugou, you noticed a little red mark on his shoulder, disappearing over the peak and presumably continuing on his back. You stepped closer, walking around behind him, ignoring a half-hearted protest from the man who was sporting it. A large, red blotchy welt bloomed on the skin of his back, and when you touched it as gently as possible with your fingertips, you found that it was nearly burning.

"Katsuki, baby," you crooned concernedly, unable to take your eyes off it.

"That was the best the healing guy could do," he explained, his voice quieter than usual. "It was worse before, but that's why I got sent home."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really."

You clicked your tongue, still figuring it probably did hurt more than he would ever let on. You gently kissed a patch of unmarked skin next to it, just to be safe.

Knowing how much Bakugou hated it when you fussed over any injuries he got, you finally left to grab the bath bomb. You traded it for your engagement ring, sliding off the gold band and picking up the green grenade from where you had set it on the counter. The faucet handle of the tub was cool in your hand as you turned the water off, having moved back over to its edge. You shifted your appendage to flick your fingers in the water to check the temperature. It was just right; not too hot, not too cold.

"Come here," you beckoned Katsuki to your side. "Watch this."

You dropped the bath grenade into the water, both of you watching as it began to fizz at the bottom. The water began to take on a cartoonish lagoon-blue tint, and the smell of rosemary and lavender began to sweetly float into the air.

"Now come on," you said, stepping into the tub. Katsuki followed in after you, and you let him sit down and adjust before sliding into his lap. You leaned against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you. You scanned his face, searching for any signs of discomfort. You found that sometimes it was the best way to tell what he was feeling, rather than asking.

Nevertheless, his eyes were gently shut, jaw relaxed. An eyelid slid open to peer at you, a tiny sliver of red just scarcely able to be seen.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked, tone conversational.

"You."

"Feh."

"'Feh'," you mocked. "The great Bakugou Katsuki, 20—"

"Stop," he interrupted, sending a splash of scented unnaturally blue water over your shoulder. You giggled, nuzzling closer into his chest in your giddiness. A deep inhale and exhale went through your man's lungs, and you followed the idea soon after. The lavender really did do something to your brain, almost magically quieting your thoughts as you felt calm steal over your body.

You'd missed this, just being able to spend time with the love of your life, relaxing together. The water you both were encased in was so soothingly warm, reaching you where Katsuki's hold could not.

"So how did your day go?" you asked, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled into him. "Tell me all about the villains you vanquished."

You could practically hear Katsuki grin above you, and without hesitation he launched into an anecdote about a man he'd apprehended early that morning. You knew how much he loved talking about his great feats of heroism. It seemed to be a bit of an ego booster for him, watching your face as you reacted to his account of his day.

You felt him shift slightly, not ceasing in his talk. The sound of a shampoo bottle popping open met your ears, and soon after, Bakugou's fingers were lacing through your damp hair, spreading the cleansing scent throughout your scalp.

You hummed and leaned into his touch, enjoying the added sensation while he finished up his speech.

"—shoulda seen the look on the little shit's face when he realized there was nothing he could do. I had him, just like that. Damn extra, didn't even have that much paperwork to file on him."

"Mmm," you hummed in acknowledgement. "Oh, baby, that feels so good."

Bakugou continued rubbing circles into your scalp, lather and foam coating his hands. You loved his hands. They were so large and strong; the source of his power, the source of his pride.

Finally he swirled your hair up and out of the way into a makeshift twist-bun, held together sheerly by the sticky shampoo lather. He took a bar of your favorite soap and began to run it over the skin of your back and shoulders, applying a delicious amount of pressure to muscles you hadn't even known were tensed. Satisfied with the slippery coating, Katsuki went back to using those hands of his, rolling the heels perfectly into you, alternating between palms and knuckles.

"'Tsuki," you said, voice hazy from how good it felt, "this was supposed to be for you."

"Yes, and?"

You pouted, eyes still lidded. "You're supposed to be relaxing."

"This is how I relax."

"Yeah, but—"

"Did I fucking stutter?"

You snorted, letting him continue his business in massaging your back. "Okay, but you're next."

"You wish."

"Did I fucking stutter?" you countered, using his own words against him. "You can't escape me. You're going to feel good by the time we get out of here, and that's a rock fact."

Even Katsuki had to have known his grumbles sounded fake. It was rare for him to show it, but you knew that every now and then he reveled in having you take care of him. Whether it be working out knots in his muscles or rubbing cream into his burns, there was a secret side to him that would allow you to tend to him. His brash persona had to be let down sometime, and every day you felt honored that you were among the few people who he trusted enough to see him without it.

Katsuki finally began to pour water over your back, the warmth trickling down and bringing the soap right with it. He leaned you back so your hair was submerged and your head was in his lap. His fingers began to wind through your tresses again, shaking the shampoo bubbles into the water around you. Without fail, Bakugou always insisted that you were completely taken care of before he ever allowed anything to be done to himself. There was nothing you could do to protest, that's just the way it was. Firm but gentle fingertip pads were pressed into your shoulders, signaling for you to sit up.

He began the process over again with your conditioner, squirting some on his hand before running it through the strands of hair that fell from your head.

"Have the energy to talk about our wedding?" you asked, eyes flicking up to the counter where your sparkling ring sat waiting.

"Sure."

You ran over a few thoughts you'd gotten to recently. You already had a pretty solid guest list, a venue in mind, arrangements for flowers, the cake, dresses, and even the suit Bakugou had picked out. Now was the more practical stuff; scheduling and seating, sketching out designs for the invitations.

You relayed over the conversation you'd had with Momo earlier yesterday. You were so thankful to have her as a friend, helping you plan. It was almost as if she knew what she was doing, at least, more than you did. She was good with decision making and had your best interests at heart.

Bakugou listened while he continued to thread his fingers through your hair, occasionally commenting or making little noises of acknowledgment while you spoke. It wasn't long before he tapped your shoulder, ready to dip you again.

The water that flooded your ears distorted your voice as you continued talking. You wished you had your laptop in front of you so you could show him your detailed spreadsheet.

You finally sat up, him having finished rinsing once again. You paused in your conversation to say, "Now it's your turn."

He turned, trying to find a moderately comfortable means to lean back so you could reach the top of his head. You cupped water in your hands and used it to wet his ash blond hair. Satisfied at its newly damp state, you pulled down his shampoo. Which also happened to be his conditioner.

You'd always grumbled at him for being tacky and using it, but his argument was that he didn't need anything more. It was cheap and quick and he refused to budge from his stance on it. At least you'd gotten him to start picking up scents you liked. This one was coconut. You glanced at the upside down bottle in your hand as you squeezed some out, silently cringing at the 3-in-1 proudly printed on the sticker. What bothered you was probably the sheer difference in male vs female advertised products. You wouldn't be surprised if they came out with something that he could brush his teeth with too.

You spread it over his spikes, each point becoming droopy under the weight of the water that had soaked into them. You couldn't help but notice how Bakugou leaned into your touch. Your voice began to trail off as you focused on his hair. It didn't take long to spread the shampoo through his short blond hair, working it into his roots. Next you moved down to his neck, trying to keep your fingers away from any reddened areas. Your hands skillfully moved over his back, much like his had done to yours a few moments prior. His skin was soon covered in a fine layer of suds, deliciously scented as you finally began to rinse both it and his hair with the now scarcely lukewarm water.

"You feel any better, Katsuki?" you asked, leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder.

"From what?" he shot back, annoyed that you'd suggest he was ever anything less than 'fine'.

"I don't know," you said, keeping your tone soft. "You still haven't told me how you got this today." You gingerly tapped a patch of skin on his back, still flushed but now glistening with moisture.

He abruptly stood, water running in rivulets down his legs as he stepped out of your bath. Bakugou wordlessly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, exiting the bathroom with nothing more than it and heavy footsteps.

You sighed and chewed on your lip, collecting yourself before pulling the plug from the drain. Your fingers slid through the receding water, eventually locating the fizzing remains of your grenade and setting it on the ledge. You lifted yourself out and grabbed a towel, sliding your ring back onto your finger before finally leaving the warm, steamy bathroom to find Katsuki.

It wasn't difficult to locate the blond, finding him in the first place you checked; your bedroom. He laid on his back, palms supporting his head while his elbows stretched out on either side. He wore only a pair of loose-fitting orange and black gym shorts, slung low on his hips as he gazed up at the ceiling.

You decided it would be best to not force him to talk, opting to begin work on patting your hair dry with your towel before slipping on one of Katsuki's large, old t-shirts and some cotton panties. The bed dipped under your weight as you sat at the edge, silently beginning to finger comb your damp hair. You listened to nothing but your own heartbeat steadily thumping in your chest, concern for your fiancé clouding your thoughts.

Before you could turn around to ask him what was wrong, Bakugou finally spoke. "Why did you agree to marry me?"

The question caught you so completely off guard, a scoff escaped your throat. "Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why are you asking me that?"

Katsuki's frown deepened. "It's just that . . . sometimes I wonder if you don't deserve this. I never see you. When I do, I'm not the . . . nicest person. You could—you would probably be better off with someone different."

You rubbed your hand soothingly over his toned belly. "Was today not a good day?"

Bakugou chewed on the inside of his cheek. You recognized the blank look in his eyes, signaling that he was trying to distance himself from his emotions. "He got away."

"Who?" you asked quietly, shifting so you could comfortably run your hands over him. The action was meant to try to calm him and ease him from behind his figurative walls.

"The villain who—who hurt me. I didn't catch him and it's all my fault. I lost. I'm a failure."

You frowned at his words. This must have really affected him if he was willing to break down so much in front of you. Bakugou had always had the mindset that he always had to win. That was how he decided he would be the greatest hero. A blow like this had to hurt.

You laid down and pulled yourself against his side, ducking under his arm so he had no choice but to hold you to his warm chest. You placed a kiss over one of his pecs, your gentle fingers never ceasing in their soothing up and down motions over his abs.

"You're far from a failure, Katsuki," you said softly in his ear. "Things like this happen."

"Not to me," he grumbled, turning his head away from you.

"You'll catch him next time, I'm sure of it."

Bakugou huffed beside you. "I should be out there, hunting him down," he finally said.

"Not in this condition," you stated firmly, tapping a finger against his skin.

You could see Bakugou's lip curl over his teeth. "It's not like I can't fight. I barely even hurt anymore. I can—"

"I wasn't talking about your wound."

He turned his head, finally looking at you. Confusion and suspicion swam in his vermilion eyes, but you used the opportunity to place your hand on his cheek.

"You're down on yourself," you said. "You need some time off. You're working so much and so hard, which is a good thing, but I think you need some time away."

Bakugou rested his hand over yours, gazing into your eyes. "I can't just let him go," he stated simply. "I can't afford to take time off."

"I know," you sighed. "But just for tonight? For me? You deserve it."

Your fiancé sighed. There wasn't anything he wanted more then than to hold you in his arms and forget for a few moments. Forget about his demanding job and getting a whole new hero agency kicked off the ground. Forget about his sworn responsibilities to the world. Forget about that damned bastard who got away.

A grumble sounded deep within Bakugou's chest, signaling to you that he had caved. You let him tug you forward and pull you into a kiss, attacking your lips in that perfectly rough but sweet way that you craved and loved.

Once he was temporarily satisfied, he cradled you against his bare chest for several minutes, refusing to move until all the stress had slowly trickled out of his muscles. You nuzzled into his bare skin, which still smelled so deliciously fresh after having gotten out of your bath.

"I love you," Bakugou finally said. "You know that, right?"

"Of course." Your voice came out a bit muffled, but you had little interest in adjusting from your position.

"I do want to get married," he went on. "To you. Maybe start a family . . . . It wouldn't be so bad, having a little fuckin' monster running around."

Your heart leapt at the idea of having a baby with the pro hero. It was something you'd thought about quite a bit, actually. "And is this child's 'fuckin' monster' qualities from you or from me?"

"You, obviously."

You laughed at Katsuki's joke, glad that he was beginning to feel better. When you looked back into his face, you were pleased to find that even he was smiling just a little bit.

You kissed his skin again as a way to segway to another topic. "So what do you want to do for the rest of your evening off?"

"Maybe we could watch something." He shrugged. "I don't care as long as I'm holding you."

His wish was an easy one to have come true. Within minutes you were relocated to the couch, snuggled up under a blanket together with a bowl of popcorn, watching something you both had been able to agree upon.

Your relationship with Katsuki wasn't an easy one, but there was no one else in the whole world you'd rather spend a lifetime with.

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Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @xoxopam4

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btsinwonderland · 3 years

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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 10: Memories

A Loki fanfiction!

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You woke at the howl of the wind outside. It was still dark out and you glanced at an old wooden clock on the wall; you had only dozed off for an hour or so. It was just two hours past midnight, and though you wanted to return to your dorm room, it was too dangerous to venture outside without the invisibility cloak.

Professor Laufeyson had shifted back onto the pillow in your sleep, and there he slumbered perfectly still but for the rise and fall of his bare chest. He laid on his back with one hand above his head, underneath the pillow. The way his face was so calm made you smile. There was no mask, just a gentle expression.

You lifted yourself off the bed to find the washroom. All the professors had private washrooms in their quarters, so your search ended after a quick dash up the staircase. When you completed your trip, you returned to Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

One passing glance at his desk made you stop. There was a drawer you opened before that intrigued you when you were searching for bandages. You walked over to the desk and your fingers hesitated above the handle. It was not good to snoop and you should be going back to bed. With him. You gulped.

Any sleep that you felt before now evaded you. Your arms and legs felt sore from branches whipping you in the forest. At the time you felt nothing since there was so much adrenaline in your body, but after that your body ached. And amidst the pain, any dreams you remembered from the last hour were filled with bright yellow eyes and bloodstained teeth. A shiver of fear ran down your arms at the thought of the beast. There was no way you could sleep now.

You opened the drawer and once again, an ethereal pool of silver and white faced you. You gazed at it in wonder and crouched over the drawer, trying to get a closer look. For a moment, you thought you saw faces floating in the bowl. As you looked closer still, something pulled your mind into the pool and you were no longer in Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

A kitchen faced you, with glossy wooden counters cut from fine lumber and large candles aflame on the countertops. There was Headmistress Frigga, looking years younger, in a yellow dress with her hair down. She paid no attention to you at all, as if you were not there. For a brief second, you wondered if you were back in the book Spells for the Common House Cat. But this felt different...

A young boy sat at the counter. He could not be a day over six, and tapped his hands on the surface excitedly. “Mother, I’m hungry!”

“Just a moment, precious, let me whip you up a nice salted caramel shake, hmm?” She said and twirled her want in a circle. A medium-sized glass, filled to the brim with a brown looking milky liquid, appeared in front of the boy. His black hair shone in the candlelight and his eyes glinted.

Then, another boy, slightly younger than the first, with bright blonde hair, ran into the kitchen. “Mother! Mother! I want a shake too! How come Loki always gets a special drink and not me!”

The boy, Loki, laughed at his brother and took the glass with both hands. “It’s because I’m clearly Mother’s favourite, Thor.”

Frigga turned away from the boys for a moment as they argued, but you saw her expression. It was filled with pain.

Before you could observe any further, you were whisked away into another place.

You were in an empty classroom, and for a second you thought you were back in Hogwarts. But the colour of everything was slightly off, and everything looked hazy. You gasped when Professor Rattowl burst through the door of the classroom and dragged a lanky black-haired boy into the centre of the room.

“Sit down, you scoundrel!” Rattowl said with an awful scowl.

You walked around him to see the boy. His hair was down to his shoulders and incredibly messy, as if he had gotten into a scuffle. It was Professor Laufeyson, though he seemed a year or two younger than you at this moment. His expression was one of youthful arrogance. He threw daggers at Rattowl with a careless sort of glare.

“I clearly won that duel,” Loki said, a smile creeping up on his lips.

Rattowl looked as if he might actually strike him. “You, boy, are a curse to this school! You’ve injured one of our best students with your dark magic! The only thing left of your terrible father’s legacy!”

Loki nearly stood, eyes aflame. “Do not speak of my father with such insolence! Odin is your minister and a hero!”

Rattowl scoffed at Loki. “Are you truly such an imbecile to think that the great Odin Borson is your father?”

“You’re lying!” Loki hissed.

A woman entered the room with a glass full of a brown drink. It looked similar to what you saw previously, but a little more chunky - as if she made it in haste. “Here love, drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Loki eyed the glass. “I don’t want anything.”

The woman and Rattowl looked at each other, and an understanding seemed to pass through them.

“Drink it, boy!” Rattowl yelled. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Loki, whose body thrashed against the chair and then stiffened. Loki emitted the glowing green light from his hands, struggling against the pressure that held him down.

The woman force fed him the drink as he sputtered and coughed, nearly choking. She kept whispering, “I’m sorry, love” as she poured it down his throat. The green light of his magic faltered and eventually fizzled away the more he drank.

You recoiled at the horror of the whole thing and even tried to push the woman away, but your hands merely went through her form.

Rattowl threw a tan handkerchief at Loki when the woman left. “Your so-called father is here. Clean yourself up before you talk to the Minister, boy.”

A couple minutes of silence and solitude passed as Loki sat in the chair, alone. You saw his eyes well up and the most heartbroken expression on his face. Tears stung your own eyes as you felt waves of despair emanate from him.

The door creaked open, and you glanced at the hefty form of Odin arriving. You looked at Loki, who had now wiped away his tears and put on a mask of such stoicism that no one would believe he was nearly sobbing seconds ago.

The door shut with a bang as Odin slowly walked towards Loki. His single eye was shrewd and unfeeling.

“What am I?” Loki said, his eyes were sunken in and red as he slowly stood.

“You’re my son.”

Loki glanced at his hands and though they trembled, he emitted a weak orb of green light that flickered out in seconds. He looked up at Odin, eyes steely. “What more than that?”

Odin paused for several seconds. The silence dragged on. “During the Great Battle, we defeated the Dark One. In the rubble of the castle, we found a child. A small child, left to die. Farbauti’s son.”

“Farbauti...the Dark One’s son.”

“Yes.”

Loki looked at Odin with eyes that were wide and similar to a child that lost its mother at a supermarket; hopeless and frightened. “Why? You were knee deep in the blood of dark wizards. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child.” Odin stood with his chin held high, as if he were the only man in the world that knew the burden of it all.

Loki shook his head. “No, you took me for a purpose. What was it? TELL ME!”

“I took you in to show the wizarding world that mercy was a better path than revenge. There was enough bloodshed, and with you we could prove that dark magic is a choice, not something passed down through blood.” At the last sentence, he looked at Loki squarely in the face, as a warning.

“And you just happened to become Minister of Magic a year later? S-so I was just no more than a tool for your promotion, locked up until you might have more use for me?”

Odin frowned. “Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

“W-what, because I’m the son of the monster that parents tell their children about at night?” Loki said as he staggered back and nearly fell, trying to sit down on the chair. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked hurt beyond recognition. The pain was raw and unyielding.

However, in a matter of seconds, it dissolved into anger. How quickly he switched to a more comfortable emotion than pain. You looked at Odin, who now clenched his jaw and fists, confirming to you that this habit was something Loki picked up from his father.

“You know it all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never truly love someone with the blood of the Dark One!”

Odin winced and held his chest, beginning to convulse. Loki stopped, anger vanished, and ran to his father who fell to the ground.

“Help! Somebody help!” Loki shouted, tears in his eyes.

Rattowl stormed in and threw Loki aside. “What did you do to him!”

You cried out for Loki and just as soon as you stepped towards the poor teenage boy, now crumpled on the floor, he disappeared in a swirl of blue and grey.

Once again, you were taken away, and then landed in a very unfamiliar place.

It was a room with black tiled floors, walls, and ceilings. There were two large boxes of seats at the end of the room with a tall bench in the middle. In the centre there was a tiny podium surrounded by piles and piles of papers and files on various desks riddled around the room.

Odin sat atop the centre bench, above everything, with a mallet beside him. He looked furious and his visible eye blazed with anger. The centre podium was empty while the surrounding desks and tables were occupied with witches and wizards typing on typewriters and writing in notebooks fervently. The boxes along the side walls were filled with several witches and wizards, all speaking at the same time, whispering and gasping.

“Order! We will have order!” Odin roared, mallet hitting the bench once. The group silenced immediately.

The floor beneath the small podium opened up and there emerged Loki, slightly older and more deranged looking. He rose from a pedestal on the floor, wrapped up in chains from his feet, to his hands, all the way to his neck. The skin under his eyes was purple and bruised looking from lack of sleep; he had a cut on his lip as if someone had punched him; and his clothes were burnt and charred in some spots. He looked a complete mess.

Loki gazed around the room and laughed. His laugh only faltered when he glanced at Frigga near the back. He turned towards to Odin. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Odin looked down at him from the bench. “Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is death, destruction and ruin.”

“I went down to the muggle realm to rule - er - manage them as a benevolent god. Just like you.”

“We are not gods, we are born, we live, we die just as muggles do.”

Loki leaned forward. “Give or take a bit of magic.”

“All this because Loki desires power?”

Loki stopped smiling and nearly growled the words. “It is what I was meant for!”

Odin glowered at him. “You were meant to die! As a child, cast out in the ruins of a broken kingdom. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

Loki was silent at Odin’s remark and his mask returned. It was cold as he received the sentence from his father.

“You will be sent to Azkaban for your crimes, Loki Laufeyson, for the disturbance of a muggle gathering; revealing the existence of magic to muggles; endangering muggle lives; and…” Odin paused to take a breath, “for the murder of Ministry auror, Tyr Reyja, with the use of the forbidden killing curse.”

You felt like your head was going to split open. “No more, no more!” you said, clasping your ears.

You were sucked out, and you yelled as it felt as though your mind was being ripped apart.

You slammed back against the wall and fell on the floor as you checked your surroundings. It was Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You shut the drawer with your foot and slowly got up, though your head was swimming. It was similar to the book, but you recalled Heimdall discussing the Pensieve: a well of memories for a wizard to file away for their personal review at their leisure.

A part of you felt ashamed at what you saw, but your heart mostly ached for him. You rose and walked over to the bed. His gentle face reminded you so much of that little boy waiting for his mother to give him a meal. The last thing you saw was the murder sentence. It hung over you like the poisoned tip of a sword. The man you saw now did not seem like a murderer, though he was extremely unpredictable.

You laid beside him, and he stirred at your movements. His eyes slowly opened, and he caught you staring at him. “Should you not be sleeping?” He said dreamily.

“I-I was having nightmares about Fenris.” That’s partially true, you thought guiltily.

“Oh, don’t worry about that shaggy beast,” he closed his eyes and grabbed your waist, dragging you right up against his body. You turned to face away from him as your heart pounded loudly in your chest and he encased your body and wrapped his arm around you, just above your chest. His warm breath blew against the back of your neck and your insides quivered. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, and you felt his lips brush your shoulder as he spoke.

Butterflies flew up your throat, and you stiffened. But being in his arms, and feeling his warm body gripping you, made you feel...surprisingly happy. It was not a feeling you were familiar with, but as your heart raced, you gradually fell asleep and, suffice to say, had much better dreams.

------------------- Post chapter comments

I definitely was going to schedule this for Wednesday but messed something up, so you get it one day earlier! lol. Enjoy ;)

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pocketramblr · 3 years

Note

I've noticed after a while (and many posts) that you include Fuyumi-trying-not-to-resemble-her-mother in many of your tags, and I really want to hear your thoughts on that whole character dynamic. Or how you headcannon Fuyumi in general, I'd just like to know more and I haven't seen a lot of people delve into her character. It's always one of the brothers.

*vibrates at a totally normal speed* I would love to talk about Fuyumi yes

Warning: the following headcanons contain a decent bit of projecting. Is it me being a teacher? An eldest daughter? My complicated relationship with the idea of a "traditional family"? Probably all of it

First, if you don't mind a plug, I wrote a oneshot that has like 90 percent of all my fuyumi headcanons in it, The Walls Are Thin, and so. Obvious my headcanon that she's Touya's younger twin has been disproven but I like it a lot so,,, I don't care

So, there are some things about Fuyumi that didn't make it into the anime- manga!Yumi has blue eyes like Enji and Touya, and her arm was also bandaged in the flashback soccer scene when Shoto is talking about their abusive childhood which is very interesting to me.

Now, as for Fuyumi and Rei- I don't think Fuyumi hates her mother. I don't even think she hates her mother but is ok with full reconciliation like she is with her father. But I do think they have a very complicated relationship. Rei was institutionalized when Fuyumi was eleven, and from that moment on Fuyumi basically had to take over the raising of her brothers. Fuyumi lost her mother at eleven and then had to become one herself, because Rei burned her littlest brother.

Fuyumi was a child- and here's the thing. Rei's breakdown was sudden, but not surprising. She looked bad in the flashback right before it, she was begging her own mother for help. She looked sleep deprived and skittish. So even before Rei was sent away, I don't know how much she was actually mothering Fuyumi. Shoto can't really tell us that, and Fuyumi... Doesn't seem to want to think much on her past or give flashbacks to the two of them. So when Fuyumi is eleven, is ten, is nine- she's seeing this happen to her mother as a process. Rei is fading away, and Fuyumi is right at the age to actually begin to sort of understand it and be scared.

Shoto is aware that the marriage was motivated primarily to get a quirk like his. I see no reason that Fuyumi would be unaware of this ether, even when she was younger.

A lot of mental health problems can be hereditary- I remember my mother talking to me about her health history and her own mom's health history bc there's a looooot of problems there lol but Fuyumi didnt get that. She got to see her mother stuck in a hospital for a decade for a breakdown. She got to learn in school that those kinds of things can be passed down to children just like quirks. I'd bet anything that Fuyumi is terrified of having a breakdown like that. Of being like her mother- someone who cared for children that she couldn't protect from Enji for ten years or so, then being locked away when she finally snapped.

There's also her status as only daughter- besides the fact that all the wifely duties were put on her, there are still more expectations. Touya is dead, Natsuo is so ignored he didn't need to be disowned, Shoto is primed only to be one thing: the number one hero. Fuyumi, who has been mothering since she was eleven, would be looked to first for grandchildren.

This isn't to say that Enji ever expressed a single care about that- I doubt he did. But Fuyumi's grandmother was seen in some early flashbacks. I'm not sure if that was Rei or Enji's mother, but either way... Well, she'd certainly talk about how pretty she was. How sweet. How good to her brothers now that her poor mother is away. How obedient a daughter. And even if this grandmother doesn't talk about a quirk marriage explicitly, Fuyumi knows that she either raised a man who looked for one by the age of twenty, or was wholly complicit in her daughter getting one.

Even if, logically, Fuyumi knows her father wouldn't arrange her one- either because she's more useful at the house, or he doesn't pay enough attention, or he's going through a post Kamino character development- there's the fact that she also knows It's Not Impossible. She knows that if her family is as high up as it is and utterly rotten inside, there could be lots of people like that in their social circles. There could be someone who has that sort of interest in her.

Anyway, all that gives Fuyumi some very, very complicated feelings on motherhood and marriage. I don't think she wants either. Ever. She's a teacher, so she likes to work with kids- but we know a part of that is to make up for not being able to help her little brothers. She's full of guilt. I don't think she'd ever be interested in romance or anything else with a man, after seeing how it turned on and utterly broke Rei. And while I do sometimes have Fuyumi as lesbian, I also really think she might be aroace. This adds fun spice where she asks herself things like "wait is this just my trauma or my actual identity" and haha same I'm sorry I project on her a lot anyway sorry Fuyumi,,, you deserve a happy life. A normal life. But you don't get one ♥️

And the normal life thing- that's because Fuyumi is tired. She's tired of being a mother to her brothers. She's tired of having the responsibility of parenting without any of the power or control. She wants to be treated like a normal daughter and sister. And that can't happen if her brothers, esp Natsuo who she saw even more, keeps fully crediting his raising to her. Even if it's the truth, and even if Natsuo loves their mother and had no problem with her- he certainly wouldn't claim Rei influenced him more than Fuyumi did. That's why she's so desperate specifically for him to reconcile.

And she did see Natsuo more- but I think Fuyumi is also very close to Shoto. Closer than he thinks. Not just because her first two appearances are just her trying to protect Shoto by warning him when Enji is pissed off or when he will be, though that certainly helps- she's rather attuned to that stuff, and at least sorta used to Shoto sometimes listening to her about that kind of advice. But Shoto is being shaped deliberately to basically be Enji 2.0 . He has no choice but to be a hero. He has no choice but to train hard and get strong. He's supposed to beat All Might in a rivalry. All that stuff. Fuyumi, likewise, is shaped to be Rei 2.0. Take care of the children. Be soft. Not cut out for heroics. Not able to stop Enji from doing anything. Support Shoto. Cook. Clean. Take over when the housekeeper leaves, because why hire another one when there's a fourteen, fifteen, sixteen year old who can do it? Don't go to anyone for help, because no one who can help you will believe you or want to help you.

Shoto is supposed to succeed where Endeavor failed against All Might.

Fuyumi is supposed to succeed where Rei failed in going against Enji.

And all this, in a house where "like Rei" is an insult that her father shouts- to have her mother's constitution is a terrible thing. It's why her first two brothers were failures. Being "like Rei" means you are weak, and useless, and going to break down, going to be sent away.

And Fuyumi is supposed to be "like Rei", but without any of those bad parts.

Anyway wow this is such a long post.

That's why I think Fuyumi has a complicated relationship with her mother and with her appearance! If Fuyumi had been a boy, there always would have been a housekeeper there. She could have been a big brother- a big brother overly relied on, yes, but not a father. Fuyumi is not a boy. She is "like Rei." She is like Rei, who poured boiling water on a child because he had red hair, and a blue eyes.

So I think Fuyumi looks in the mirror, and sees red lines in her hair, and blue eyes behind glasses that neither of her parents need. And I think she keeps her hair shorter than Rei, and doesn't let it hang long like her mother prefers. And I think Fuyumi looks in the mirror, and sees that she's not just exactly like one or the other of her parents- and I think she says "thank God"

#.... that was really long #ahem #sorry i love fuyumi!!!#and you're right. no one talks about her enough #it's a lot about the brothers #and maybe fuyumi with her brothers #but not fuyumi and rei which really i think it's kinda the juicy one #sure rei 'left' the boys too #but she 'left' her responsibility to fuyumi and that's really different #i think long before Fuyumi decided to forgive Enji- or at least to move on with Enji- she decided to forgive/move on with her mother #in a way that was harder than Shoto forgiving her for one single incident #and very different from Natsuo who never needed to forgive rei #anyway!!! that's everything now i think.....#pocket talks to people #owlf45 #meta

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smallandsneezy · 3 years

Text

my hero

Bucky falls in to an icy pond and Steve saves him. they both catch a cold in the process.

one thousand words of pure fluff and pre-serum stucky. (you may have seen this on snz tumblr b4 but we don’t have to talk about my past anxiety deletions) (ao3)

“Buck, wait up!” Steve yelped as Bucky flew onto the ice, moving like standing on a frozen surface on two tiny blades came as easy to him as breathing. Steve pulled at his laces, or tried to, but his thin fingers shook with the chill. It was February, and despite it being unusually warm for the time of year, he still felt his chest constricting with every breath of cold air.

Bucky was doing spins, albeit haphazardly, in the center, giggling like a little kid. His dark hair was everywhere, his eyes wild and his cheeks were terribly flushed, and Steve loved him so much.

“Steve, hurry up! Watch, I’m gonna try a flip.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Steve muttered, buttoning his third sweater and preparing to add a coat, the wooly one that his mom had found for him in a thrift shop.

Bucky beamed fondly, before spinning a little too hard and landing on his ass. Steve’s head shot up at the cracking noise, and his eyes met Bucky’s, whose were wide with fear. And suddenly Bucky was gone. The ice must have thinned over the week of forty degree weather, because there was a Bucky Barnes sized hole in the center of their pond. Steve scrambled up, searching frantically, and for a brief terrible moment all he could see was cold blue water with a layer of frost on top of it. Then a hand flew up and slammed against the ice, and Steve breathed again. Immediately he ran out onto the ice, which admittedly was a horrible idea, because he tumbled and slid to the very edge of the hole on his stomach. He plunged his hand in, searching frantically for any sign of Bucky. He soon found one, as Bucky’s hand grasped his and Steve pulled with all his might, to no avail. Bucky’s arms were now on the ice, and his head was above water. His lips were blue and everything else was stark white, but he was breathing and it gave Steve another burst of energy. He started yelling, screaming for help in a terrible voice he didn’t recognize, while he looked around frantically, searching for something, anything he could use to pull him out. He settled on a rotten fence a bit down the way, and he locked eyes with Bucky.

“Hold on, Buck. I’ll be right back.”

Steve might’ve just been on the verge of an asthma attack but the adrenaline seemed to work even better than his rescue inhaler, because he ran like one of the sprinters from their high school track team. He reached the fence in no time, and yanked at the board until it fell loose. Dragging it over to the middle of the pond, in the back of his head marveling at how it didn’t crack more (Later, in a quiet moment, he realized his body weight was significantly less than Bucky’s. Even holding the giant board he still was less of a burden for the melting ice.) he shoved it into the water. Bucky’s blue tinged fingers gripped it, and Steve used all of his ninety nine pounds of might to pull on the log. Bucky’s top half emerged from the water, and he managed it the rest of the way. He pulled himself out with his arms and then lay flat on the ice, gasping like he’d never had a breath of air before.

“Buck. Bucky. Bucky.” Steve started to pull his body towards the snowy bank, and with a little help from Buck got him to a sitting position on the damp bench. Immediately Steve started to pull his clothes off, unbuttoning soaking wet pants and a shirt. Bucky looked at his face, his eyes wet with something that wasn’t pond water.

“F-Finally t-t-taking some initiative, soldier.” This was chattered out between clattering teeth, Bucky’s whole body shaking. He gave a weak little chuckle, and then a louder sob.

“Shh. Shhhh. It’s okay sweetheart. You’re safe now.” Steve murmured under his breath, finally getting the rest of Bucky’s clothes off and starting to layer his own onto his quivering frame. A light blue button up, a patched up green sweater, his wool coat. Soon, all that was left on Steve was a thin shirt and his underwear. Normally wearing so little would make him self-conscious, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Bucky started to protest, but Steve silenced him with a single look.

“Come on, darlin’. Let’s go home.” Steve’s drawl wasn’t from an accent, but from a lack of concentration on his words. Right now, the only thing on his mind was getting Bucky home and keeping him from getting hypothermic.

….

“huhh’EShoo.”

“Bless you Buck.” Steve croaked out.

“eeeHishh… kkksh’Ishoo.” Bucky blew into his hankie hard and then smiled softly at Steve, a face made if anything more attractive by his red nose.

“Thanks Steve. Do you want me to make you some tea, for your throat?”

“You won’t be doing anything except resting in this bed, tough guy. I’m fide. Don’t you worry about me, I’m not the one who’s sick.” Even as he said it, Steve’s nose twitched, and he scrubbed at it harshly. He was trying to look casual about it, but Bucky knew Steve and he also knew that this need to sneeze was anything but casual.

“You sure about that, darlin’?” Bucky teased, leaning over to look Steve square in the eyes from his side of the bed. Steve’s lip twitched, but he tried to keep a straight and serious face even as his nose wiggled and he started to wheezily hitch.

“Y-y-yes. I’m sure.” he whispered, clearly using every bit of his willpower to control himself. Bucky smiled fondly at him and then poked the tip of his nose. Instantly Steve flew forward, his nose in one hand.

“eeeK’hish. hh’ISHh. iKKshieu, eck’Tschieu.” Bucky ruefully placed a clean handkerchief in Steve’s flailing hand.

“Bless you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He paused for Steve to sneeze a few more times, his thin frame quivering with the force of it.

“Bless you. Still gonna pretend you aren’t even a little under the weather?”

Steve looked up, his nose bright red and glistening. Bucky handed him another handkerchief (one of his last clean ones, he would have to do laundry pretty soon if Steve kept up like this), and Steve swiped at his nose with it roughly before responding.

“It’s not too bad. You fell in an icy pond, nearly died, and might be on your way to pneumonia if you don’t rest a bit.” Steve’s grandiose speech used up the remainder of his voice and his energy, and by the end of it he had slumped against his pillow and was gearing up for another sneezing fit. That decided it for Bucky. He climbed out from under the covers and walked to Steve’s side of the bed, allowing for a brief fit of stifled sneezes before kissing his sweaty forehead.

“Stevie, this ain’t nothing but a head cold. Don’t you fuss about me. It’d be a hell of a lot worse if it wasn’t for you. You’re the man of the hour.” Bucky crooned, wrapping Steve in a sorry looking blanket and dropping what really was his last handkerchief on his lap. Steve pretended to give a sigh and attempted a half-hearted eye roll, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the proud smile and the pleased flush on his cheeks.

“My hero.”

#snz fiction #fic #pre serum steve fic

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dapandapod · 4 years

Text

Valdo the reluctant hero

So. Like the maniac I am I borrowed a prompt where our hero comes to the villain, hurt, drugged and lost, knocking on their door and passing out in their arms. And this is what brain did.

Please enjoy Valdo taking care of a hurt Jaskier (refered to as Julian because thats who they are to each other) and is very much a dramaqueen about it, and possibly a little secretly soft.

Prompt adopted from @endrega23 and it’s on Ao3 here!

Enjoy! <3

Someone knocks hard on his door.

It sounds more like desperate slapping, open palm against the wood. Valdo rolls his eyes, why the fuck would anybody come around at this hour?

He puts down his book and pulls his feet down from the stool he rested them on. Damn, this was supposed to be his night off.

More slapping on the door and an irritated sigh falls from his lips.

“Coming, I'm coming!” He shouts towards the door and slowly makes his way there.

He really doesn’t want to.

That kind of knocking doesn’t indicate a lady visit, or anything pleasurable at all.

Dragging his feet behind him he walks over the plush carpet. Ugh. So annoying. And it’s so late already. He just wants to sit alone, not talking to anybody, just he, himself and his hand.

He did not expect Julian Alfred Fucking Pankratz leaning against his doorframe.

Valdo feels his jaw drop somewhere around his knees, because what the actual fruit basket with onions inside is he doing here.

“What…?” is all that he manages to say before Julian looks up to him.

And Valdo actually takes a look at him.

Julians lip is bleeding, he is red and swollen just under his right eye and he is clutching a hand to his ribs. The eggshell colored tunic he is wearing is filthy, stained with mud and what looks like more blood. His eyes, normally so sharp and cutting, are dazed.

“Please.” Julian wheezes out. “I didn’t know where to go.”

There is a commotion somewhere in the city, shouting men and clamping feet.

Valdo doesn’t even think, he pulls Julian in by the elbow and closes the door. Locks it and pulls the curtains.

Then he whirls around and stares at the other bard.

“Why in Meliteles name are you here?!” He hisses at Julian, who only moved to lean against his wall. And no, that just won’t do. He is going to stain the wallpaper.

So Valdo grabs Julians elbow again, not braving to touch any other part of the filthy and possibly more hurt bard than necessary.

Valdo drags him deeper into his home, up the stairs to the second floor where he can put Julian in one of the guest rooms.

Yes, Valdo has guestrooms. He is a popular man, actually, thank you very much.

Only, halfway up the stairs, Julians knees buckle and Valdo have to put an arm under his shoulder so that he won’t fall all the way down again. Ugh, such a pain.

So he half drags, half shoves Julian up the stairs. His body is warm against his, too warm. Something is obviously not right here.

“What the hell did you do this time, Pankratz?”

And why did he come here? Out of all the places in Oxenfurt, why did he come here?

They are not friends? One might even go as far as to say they hate each other. A bit. Officially at least. Bitter rivals you know. It sells well.

“I’m not sure.” Julian mumbles against Valdos shoulder, head moving around with the motion, as if he can’t really control his muscles.

“Did they drug you?!” Valdo accuses, as if it was his fault. J

ulian just gives noncommittal hum, he has been spending far too much time with that witcher lately.

Valdo kicks open the door to the guest room and shoves Julian onto the bed.

In any other circumstance it would have been hot. Now Valdo is just royally pissed.

They better not find him here and drag Valdo into this mess, whatever it is.

As soon as Julian made contact with the mattress, he is out.

Valdo sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. This is not how he expected the night to go.

On the street outside, Valdo can hear the shouts and stomps of the men likely chasing Julian. They run right past his house, so either they don’t know that he lives her (insulting) or they know and deem it unlikely for Julian to seek shelter here.

Valdo gives the man on the bed another long, judging look and goes to fetch a basin of water.

Does he have any spare linen somewhere? Something to clean up that face with so that he doesn’t dirty the bed. Those bed covers were expensive.

When he returns Julian hasn't moved an inch. He lays on his back with one arm around his ribs, the other one flung to the side in a dramatic pose.

Valdo sits down next to him on the bed, awkwardly dabs his face with the rag he found.

There are no open wounds so it should be fine.

Softly he wash away the blood on Julians lip.

It is soft, red and swollen, a small line where the skin cracked.

Valdo doesn’t let himself look too closely, because he is a man of standards you know.

He has absolutely not spent any time what so ever thinking about that mouth or that sharp tongue with it.

Then he dabs at the cheek. It’s already darkening, angry red shifting into a darker purple just over his cheekbone. It looks painful, so he rinses the rag and tries to be as careful as possible.

Wait.

Why does it matter if he is careful or not? He doesn’t care!

So on the other (unhurt) cheek he simply rubs the rag around.

There. Perfect. Bed cover is safe. Somewhat.

But that tunic looks rather horrible.

No, this cannot stand. Putting water and rag aside, he shifts so that he can move Julians body around.

Gently he grips Julians hand that was against his ribs, and moves it so that he can unlace the tunic.

Wait.

No, Valdo doesn’t need to be gentle. It’s fine. This is not a friend. (But his hand was very warm and very soft. (Brain! Be quiet!!))

Unlacing tunics always was his favorite part when undressing a partner. There is something sensual in bit by bit revealing the skin hidden underneath. Half of Julian's hairy chest is revealed when Valdo catches himself smiling.

Ah. Fuck. Oh well.

If he is doing this, why not as well enjoy the show.

Julian, unlike many other bards at the university, hasn’t let himself go (yet) and his waist is slim and alluring. They both know he looks good, so what if he gets an eyeful as he does a good deed?

He coaxes Julians arms out of the tunic and tries to pull it from under his back when Julian makes a pained sound.

Oh, right. Maybe he hurt his ribs?

Valdo has no idea what to do with any other injury than a split lip or a scraped knee, but he should be able to tell if he needs to call a healer. So Valdo drags a fingertip over Jaskiers side, trying to get a sense of the ribs, if anything feels out of place.

It doesn’t, so that’s something, probably?

Next is the boots. The boots can under no circumstance get on that bed.

It is when Valdo is kneeling and is trying to pull of the second boot that Julian returns to the land of the living.

He grunts, puts an elbow under himself and looks around.

“Geralt?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Just me, little lark.” Valdo says mockingly and pulls off the other boot. He tosses it towards the other one with a satisfying thunk.

“Marx.” Julian says, and from the look upon his face Valdo would bet his hat that memories are flooding back. “Oh.”

“In the flesh.” Valdo stands up and makes a small bow. “Welcome to my humble home. Now, take those horrid trousers off, if you please. I don’t want to dirty the bed any further.”

At any other time, Julian would have made a dirty joke about it.

Something is absolutely wrong, because without further ado he wiggles out of his trousers. Valdo turns his back on him to give some privacy.

There is only so much one man should share with another when they are mortal enemies and all that.

“Would you mind telling me what made you seek out my fine company this evening?” Valdo asks the wall, listening to the rustling of fabric and movement.

“Someone broke into my room in the university.” Julian replies, his words still a little slurred. “I think they drugged my wine. And when they came in they….”

There is a silence, and Valdo risks a look over his shoulder.

Julian is sitting against the wall and has pulled up the blanket around his hips. He stares at his hands, gripping at the soft fabric, his brows furrowed.

Valdo turns around fully and sits at the end of the bed, putting a hand on Julians ankle in support.

“It’s a little fuzzy. But I remember being shoved out, punched to the ground. And then I ran, and they laughed.”

Julian looks up at him then, with his startlingly blue eyes.

“Thank you for opening the door.” Julian looks so sincere when he says it that Valdo thinks back on his reluctance with a hint of shame.

“Of course.” He says anyway.

“You were the only one who did.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Don’t worry about it.” Valdo waves it away, but it sits heavy in his gut.

Either Valdo was the only one with a night off and bad enough sense to open the door at this hour, or the others saw him coming and decided not to open anyway.

“I’ll go fetch you something to drink. You can spend the night here, but I don’t want any trouble.”

Julian gives him a weak smile, and Valdo is struck with the urge to grab a pen and write.

“I’ll be gone as soon as I’m able.”

It turns out ‘as soon as I’m able’ is two days later.

A fever sets in when morning comes, and Valdo does his best, muttering all the while what a good person he is and what a bad person Julian is for putting him through this, and by the next midnight it has passed. Luckily.

He lends Julian one of his older tunics and pretends it doesn’t do things to him. They spend hours bickering back and forth, but Julian keeps smiling at him. It’s unnerving.

When the third morning comes, Julian is well enough to limp home. Valdo follows him there, he insists there is no point in his generosity if Julian gets attacked immediately again. Another terrible smile later, another scribbled page with secret words, and they are off.

All is fine and things return to normal. They meet in the halls of nobility, they throw sharp words at each other. But every now and then, Julian sends a smile, and the ground Valdo have been standing so firmly on is slowly crumbling.

Valdo is never saving Julian ever again.

#valdo marx #valdo is a hero #for once #give him some credit #hurt jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #oxenfurt #valdo x jaskier #possibly idk what you read into it #good guy-ish valdo #jaskier the bard #jaskier whump #blood #dapanda writes #ao3fic #the witcher

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kat-katsuki · 4 years

Text

Fast and Slow | Hawks x Reader

Fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k

All the pictures of you and Hawks shared were just blurry after images. The two of you were known as the fastest duo in Japan. Whenever someone mentioned Hawks, they would always talk about you, his only sidekick, as well. Hawks doesn't like sidekicks – rather, he had no use for them. Throughout his hero career he hired and fired multiple sidekicks because none of them could keep up with his speed.

Then you appeared. It was a hot summer day, and all Hawks wanted to do was to hurry up and catch the villain and finish the day off with some ice cream. The villain was fast, he had to admit, but Hawks knew he was faster. He smirked as he glanced back at the heroes who couldn’t keep up. That was when suddenly, something flashed before his eyes.

His eyes widened when he saw the villain spazzing on the ground while you stepped on him with one foot, keeping him against the pavement. He saw sparks of blue electricity flash around you, and he swore for a second your face deformed into a streak of lightning.

"Did you….do that?" he asked. You nodded at him. He couldn’t help but notice how breathtakingly beautiful your eyes were. Your big, round, innocent eyes reminded him of a toddler, and with your blank emotionless expression, he found you adorable. He knew then and there that he had to have you as his sidekick.

You were still a high school third year, interning for another hero during that time, but he quickly offered you a position as his sidekick once you graduate. There was no way you’d turn down the number three hero. Even though you didn’t show it on your face, you were ecstatic.

After graduation, you immediately became his sidekick. Hawks had to admit, you didn’t disappoint as a sidekick. You were lightning itself, whether it was chasing villains or reacting to attacks, you never missed a split second.

However, outside of hero work, you were excruciatingly slow.

"Hey Dove, nice work," he told you when the two of you finished capturing a burglar.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawks." You bowed politely. You weren’t a very expressive person, he learned, and you’re almost always wearing that blank, dazed, almost clueless expression on your face.

"Mr. Hawks?! That makes me sound old, I’m only 22! Just call me Hawks. Puts less of a distance between us," he said as he walked up to you with a grin on his face, physically decreasing the distance between the two of you.

Your brows furrowed lightly as you gave his words some thought. Putting age aside, he technically is your boss. It would be rude to address him without honorifics, but since he insisted, "Okay Hawks."

The corners of his lips tugged upward when his name rolled off your tongue. Your voice was just as enchanting as your eyes. He tilted your chin upward with his index finger, and leaned his face close to yours, eyes half lidded seductively as he tried to lower his tone, and whispered, "Now Dove, why don’t we go back, relax on the couch, watch a movie and eat some chicken to reward ourselves for our…fine work today." Boy does he think he sounded sexy.

"But it’s barely 3 pm," you stated matter-of-factly. "We don’t get off duty until 7."

As your boss, he didn’t hate that part of you, but as a man trying to court you, he really wished you took a hint. From the compliments and the flirty pet names to the lunch and dinner dates, none of them seemed to be getting to you. He honestly started to question what exactly was going through that cute little brain of yours, or if anything went through at all.

In the end, he decided that he should give up on the hints and just ask you out in a straightforward approach. "Goodbye Hawks, have a nice day." It was past 7, and you were going to leave to go home. That was when Hawks pinned you to the wall, preventing you from getting out of the agency. "Hawks?"

"Songbird, will you go out with me?" he asked. He would change up the pet names every day, today was Songbird.

"Go out? Where? To KFC or to Chickenman?" You listed his two places he took you the most often to get chicken.

Hawks slammed his head into the wall beside your face while letting out a loud groan of defeat. As his body pressed against yours, a wave of heat started rushing to your cheeks. To say you didn’t find the bird man attractive would be a total lie, but you naturally had the tendency to take everything literally, and the idea that this handsome, successful young man would be in any way interested in you was absolutely appalling, to the point you never even considered it.

Hawks chuckled softly as he tilted his head and directed his lips to your ears. You could feel his hot breath tickling the inside of your ears and you winced a little at the strange sensation. "Songbird, sometimes I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose or if you really are that slow," he whispered.

"Um, sir, I whatever I did wrong, I swear it wasn’t on purpose," you apologized as the blush on your face deepened. Hawks’ eyes widened. You were weak against physical contact. Before, he’d get a little bit touchy here and there, but he always made sure he gave you enough personal space. Now, he was practically pressed against you, sandwiching you between his chest and the wall.

Finally getting an expression that’s not a blank stare out of your face, Hawks’ lips curled upward victoriously. He took your hand in his, and interlocked your fingers with his. His golden orbs were locked onto your face, taking in your every movement, from the redness of your cheeks, to the way your eyes darted around, and the way you bit your bottom lip. Oh god, he was having too much fun with this.

"Songbird, you can’t be that clueless. Surely you understand what I mean now," he whispered softly in your ear.

"I-….I uh…" Yes, you finally understood. All the subtle hints and the flirty comments now seemed to click. You felt like someone had put your heart on a train; you could practically hear it slamming against the walls of your chest.

Hawks tilted your chin up. This time he made sure to stick his face so close to you that you could feel him breathing over your lips. "So what do you say? Still thinking about KFC?"

"N-….No…." Your voice cracked as you cowered under him.

"No as in you won’t go out with me or no as in you stopped thinking about chicken?" he chuckled.

"I….I uh… I stopped thinking about chicken."

"So you’ll go out with me?"

"That’s not-" That’s not what you meant, but at this point you honestly don’t want to say no. "I mean….. Yes… I will…"

Hawks finally closed the gap between the two of you. He cupped your cheek with one hand while the other stayed intertwined with yours. You closed your eyes as he gently massaged your lips with his.

KACHAK!

The two of you turn your heads to see a man scurry out of the bushes outside the window. Paparazzi. They had been waiting for something like this. In an instant the two of you were out the door. A blue streak passed by the paparazzi, and next thing he knew you were in front of him. He turned around to see Hawks hovering right before him. You took the camera out of his hand and confiscated the SD card. "Nice work Songbird," Hawks winked.

"Thank you Hawks," this time, you wore a subtle smile, and your cheeks dusted in pink.

Later you and Hawks loaded the pictures from the SD card onto his computer, and for the first time, there was a photo of the two of you that wasn't blurry.

#hawks #takami keigo x reader #bnha fanfic #bnha #boku no hero academia #hawks x reader #fluff #mha #mha fanfic

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pemfrost · 3 years

Note

AHHH I love everything you been writing for Spideydevil and Spiderfist but please no more agnst my heart just can't take it!!! I really loved broken with spideydevil it was so cute! But the angst I just can't why is everyone writing spideydevil angst I just want to see them happy! So if your not busy and want to do it can you do a spideydevil anything with them. Fuff prompt 17.

♡♡♡ Thank you!

Glad you like my drabbles :D Heh, sorry about the angst. It's my default setting lol. I think I found the prompt list you meant, but either way it's fluffy ♡

There were few times in Peter's life which left him truly speechless; so few, in fact, he could easily count them on one hand and still have a finger left over to salute the villain of the week. However, this was not one of those times.

"No! Absolutely not!" Peter stood in the doorway, blocking his friends from entering with his body, while waving his arms over his head in an attempt to emphasize the words. It didn't help, because, of course, his friends were quite immune to his theatrics at this point. He glanced to where Matt stood to his right, being far too quiet. "Well? Tell them."

Matt only sighed and pushed their apartment door open further as an invitation before taking a seat on the couch. He didn't so much as flinch at the glare Peter was boring into the back of his head, though Peter knew he was aware of it. Apparently, Matt was also immune to his theatrics, which normally would have Peter over the moon at the reminder of all the years they've spent together. Right now, that familiarity only served to sour Peter's mood. How dare anyone ignore him!

Misty wasted no time shouldering her way past Peter first, and was quickly followed by Danny, Jess, and Luke, who carried a box covered with a blue towel. Were they that codependent, they all had to come? Peter bit back the retort, opting to slam the door and stalk to stand behind Matt with crossed arms.

He pointedly ignored the box in Luke's lap.

Peter glared. Jess glared back. And Matt leaned towards the box.

Because, their friends were assholes, and Misty, Jess, and Danny took the chair and loveseat- leaving Luke and the damn box the couch. It was calculated, of that Peter was sure.

Jess kicked her feet onto the coffee table casually, like this was just another hangout and she was waiting for Peter or Matt to retrieve a board game or throw a movie on. Except, this was anything but a casual social call and she was focused on Matt- her eyes refusing to meet Peter's.

It was a lost cause, Peter was well aware of it; it was over the moment Matt showed any interest. How could he say no to Matt?

"No." Okay, it was easy to say. While standing behind Matt. "There is no way we-"

Matt turned to look up at Peter, something he only did when he wanted to use his face as a weapon, because how could anyone say no to /that/ face. The day Matt learned Peter was weak when his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly tipped arguments to his favor by an unfair ratio.

Peter couldn't say no to Matt. So, he looked across the room, when he found no one willing to meet his indignant glare he threw his arms up again, this time in defeat. It didn't mean he was going to give any of them the pleasure of saying yes.

Misty snorted, breaking the tension. "I thought Matt would be the one putting up a fight."

Matt shrugged, too enthralled by the contents of the box to respond. When he reached into the box, there was a sudden flurry of movement and a distinct, but tiny, meow.

Luke's grip tightened on the box, pulling it ever so slightly closer to his chest. "Maybe we could-" He was cut off by a look from his wife.

Okay, that just wasn't fair. And Peter was about to say just that when Matt gently pulled two kittens from the box and shoved one towards him. And THAT wasn't fair.

Taking the offered kitten was as good as saying yes, but Peter took it anyway, because Matt’s damn lip jutted out and the kitten looked at him and mewed. Not fair. But, he held the tiny thing against his chest and rubbed tiny circles along soft fur.

"So," Jess said as she stood, "there are five of them. The vet said they're about four weeks old and-"

Peter tuned her out as she rattled off information about feeding and meds, too entranced by the tiny kitten in his arms. Matt was in a similar state, but nodded along with what Jess said even if he wasn't actually listening.

Maybe it wouldn't be terrible fostering a litter of kittens.

"Thanks, guys," Danny spoke up, remaining seated despite Misty standing to join Jess.

Misty fixed him with a tired stare, "Hopefully my wonderful husband won't bring home any strays for a while. I'm just glad Lucy was sleeping, could you imagine having to take them away from her?"

Luke, suddenly looking very sheepish, pushed the box off his lap an onto the couch between him and Matt. "Yea…"

Matt returned his kitten to its siblings and reached in to pet the others. "I don't mind, it's only for a few weeks anyway."

"If we can find them homes," Peter reminded him.

Jess rolled her eyes. "We're going to probably take one. Someone," she glared between Danny and Luke, "thought I would be swayed to foster them if Danielle asked me. I had to bribe her with the promise of a kitten once they were ready to be away from their siblings."

"Sorry," Both Danny and Luke said at the same time.

Peter would ask them the details later, but for now he resigned himself to several weeks of kittens invading his life. Thankfully, new, younger, heroes were starting to alleviate their burden, which let their friends have the time and stability to have children. Get married. Foster a litter of kittens when their friends with children were too busy to do so.

Peter looked down at Matt, watched him play with the two kittens who were awake. This would be a big step for them, bigger, perhaps, than moving in together had been. They'd never had a pet. Or talked about it. Because the future was an uncertainty, something to ignore until you got to it, because life was unfair and cruel, and they both were all too familiar with loss.

Yet... watching Matt light up, smiling without a care, relaxed- It all hit Peter at once. There was no reason to fear the future, to not want to plan. No reason to ignore what his heart kept telling him he wanted. Needed.

Silly, how a pile of tiny kittens could put the world in perspective.

Later, once their friends left, and the kittens were locked safely in the bathroom, they went out to buy supplies. Jess brought the basics she picked up at the vet, but they still needed litter and more food- and toys. And a kennel for when they weren't home.

They walked down a row of shops on their way home, loaded with bags full of kitten supplies. Shops they walked past a million times before. This time, however, Peter's eyes lingered on the window display of a jewelry store, for once letting himself think of the future.

Thank you for reading!

#spiderdevil #spideydevil #pem writes #ask request

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steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #S5 #Ep6 #Yugi Muto #Seto Kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Tea Gardner #Tristan Taylor #Mokuba Kaiba #zigfried von schroeder #rebecca hawkins #I talked about catz again #leon #but not the kings of leon guy #I mean he could be

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theoriginal-maijean · 2 years

Text

Chaos Crew

leaving the hospital

G is taking down the bunting and putting away the glitter jar. M’s anxiety has been through the roof.

M: uhn

G: what is it Sparkles?

M: do you think... (goes silent)

G: yes, I think, it's an unfortunate condition of mine. I can't stop thinking, in fact there was once a time where I was thinking so hard my brain

M: (laughing) honestly, Punk. I'm glad we’re e friends.

G: ready to tell me what's on your mind. Cause you know I'm here right?

M: do you also think I'm pathetic?

G: what? Why would you ask that? No.

M: I stayed... I stayed and made up excuses. Me who knows how bad it hurts when people are like that. Me. “Confident, outspoken, strong” me.

G: you are still those things you know. Just cause someone managed to get under your skin, and could hurt you real bad, doesn’t make you less you. (Boops her on the nose) you are still my hero.

M: but I’m tired.

G: then rest. You know that we can protect you. Like you protected us. It’s our turn. You can be weak, quiet and need reassurance. He didn’t understand what a gift you are. We do. So rest. We’ve seen your ugly mug without make up on and your blue hair looking like a rats nest next to a rave.

M:…(throat all choked with emotion) thanks.

G: just so you know… K rented out like a whole floor.

M: what?

G: the. Whole. Floor. Apparently it’s so you don’t run into anything annoying.

M: a whole floor? She already lives in the penthouse.

G: well she rented out the next floor too. Oh and I’ll be living there too for a bit.

M: uhm sorry bout that.

G: bout what?

M: the night terrors.

G: my offer to commandeer a therapist still stands. Every villain needs one you know. Who else can we boast to about our devilish plans and not have them save the world while we’re gloating.

M: (in mock seriousness) Ah the bane of our existence the last minute gloating that leads to our dastardly downfall.

G: I’ve packed up most stuff to take to your new place. Also don’t call an Uber and DON’T CALL YOUR DAD FOR FUCKS SAKE. The Physio turned BLUE when she stepped into your room. Really messes with the feng shui. Sparrow said she’ll be along to fetch you soon.

M: I just wanted to check if anything was left at the old place.

G: Sparkles. We stole EVERYTHING, all of it, including his underwear. Whatever isn’t yours, you can burn, we can make an evening of it and dance around the bonfire drinking kombucha and listening to the villain playlist. While cursing his existence of course.

M: (shoulders relax and the crease between her brows disappears) okay. So I’m coming home?

G: Yeah. You’re coming home. K is coming so we will bring you home. There are codes to get out of the elevator, locks on every door including the bathroom, a knife under your pillow, a glock under the pillow next to it and a crossbow mounted on the wall. Also I put Ducky on your bed so…

M: you remembered to grab Ducky?! Okay this is good. Where are the windows?

G: Well we thought that maybe you’d like a room on the inside for a bit with no windows but we set up a projector to simulate the sun rising and everything according to our time zone.

M: okay that’s good too.

G: oh and we got you one of those sensory hammocks and K has signed you up for yoga with her.

M: damn I’m still working on getting my arm straightened and up past my head when I lift my hand. Who knew a collarbone could be that fragile.

G: I’m still not ready to joke. But I’ll give you this. Next time I’ll smack your skull cause that is obviously made out of solid rock.

Phone rings (ring tone is everybody wants to rule the world)

G picks up.

G: hey, yeah everything is packed just her overnight bag left here. You coming? Okay I’ll wait for you.

M: how is Puff doing?

G: the walking talking caffeinated amoeba? She’s good. Got Dickhead’s PR team running in circles. It’s been fun to watch honestly. She said she’ll turn it into a video of the greatest hits with commentary so you can enjoy it too, I think she used the word cathartic in her description.

M: you do know that calling her a single cell organism means you get your bank accounts frozen. No more bagels from that French patisserie on the corner.

G: bah. They’re not even really French.

M: I think you’re missing the point.

G: no I’m not. You’ll buy my bear claws for me cause you can’t stand to see me suffer.

M: nope she’ll freeze mine too.

The door opens and K walks in. She’s got thick army boots on and her jeans are scuffed. Her baggy t-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo on it looks like it’s seen better days. Her noir eyeliner makes her blue eyes look even more piercing. She grabs one of the duffel bags and looks at G&M.

K: You guys ready?

G: (grabs the remaining duffel bag) always.

M: (puts her crutch under her armpit) right as rain lets go.

As the door closes behind them and the lights go out, a pair of acid green fireflies are seen in the darkest part of a shadow and then winks out.

#drabble #drabbles #my story #chaos crew #villain

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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years

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The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions.

What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you.

You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

“So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

“Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~ That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time.

That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled.

That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you.

And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero.

Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically.

But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

(Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~ You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc.

She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday.

Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

“What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold.

MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman.

“Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

“Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see. Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

“Do you remember what I told you that day?”

MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

“That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on.

“You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

“Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

“I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

“A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

“A liar-”

“MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

“I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

“I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

“Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!”

“And why would we-”

“Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead.

He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

“Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,”

MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

“Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

“So, you didn’t-”

“Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

“Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~ Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.

MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

“Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

“Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

“Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

“What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

“I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

“I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you. “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

“(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

“Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend?

“(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

“No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

“Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from?

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it.

“(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house.

The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

“Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house.

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

“(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?” It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

“Who was she?”

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462 notes · View notes

jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 8 - Torrent

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 3739

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: I got excited and decided to post the next chapter early. This fic is still going to be Red Son-centric, but I do want to focus a lot on MK. I think it'd be fun to explore some of his issues, including the darker parts of him. He's a good and kind-hearted kid, but at times has been shown to be a bit petty, impatient, and selfish. And like Red Son, I find it interesting to see what he'd do if pushed. I'd also like to point out that some of this chapter includes semi-competent JTTW lore (thanks again, Lem, for your help with that)!

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Wind flows from MK in angry waves as he lands in between the Monkey King and DBK. If the stakes weren’t so dire, he’d think about how cool of a superhero landing that was. The blue fire has spread around the area, and though his landing pushed some of it back, none of it was extinguished. Fear flutters in his chest at coming face to face with the same power that had seemingly consumed his mentor, and it flares even more so to realize that this time it was DBK who seemed to be wielding the fire, and not Red Son. He glances on either side of his enemy to see Princess Iron Fan trying to put out some flames that had caught on her dress, and Red Son lying unconscious farther away. DBK seems off. It reminds him of when he was possessed by that weird white ghost before. An unhinged Demon Bull King wielding the very fire that could kill the Monkey king? Not good.

“Kid?!” calls a weak voice from behind him.

“Monkey King!” All thought and focus leaves him as he looks to the voice of his injured mentor. He’s still alive! The Monkey King looks angry. Or in pain?

“Look out, Kid!” he rasps.

MK turns around to see DBK charging at him, eyes ablaze. Before he can react, a giant, metallic fist slams into DBK, throwing him out of the way of MK.

“I got your back, MK!” Mei calls from the cockpit of the Monkey Mech that had entered the scene.

MK smiles up at her and waves. “Thanks Mei!”

“You check on the Monkey King! I’ll hold DBK off!” she says with a salute and takes giant leaps meeting DBK as he resumes his charge.

MK nods and rushes to his mentor’s side. He doesn’t look good. His fur is singed and parts of his clothes are blackened and ripped. Not only that, but there’s a flare of blue fire coming from his left side and right hand. MK reaches out to him. He doesn’t know what he can do, but he wants to help.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Monkey King shouts in a strained snarl.

MK flinches at the harsh command and his hands pause midair. He looks on helplessly as Monkey King wheezes and coughs, as if his yell took all his energy. MK brings his hands to his chest and tugs at his shirt as anxiety tugs at his heart.

The Monkey King’s expression turns to something softer and more sympathetic, and he corrects quickly, “No, no, kid.” He pants trying to catch his breath. “Y-you can’t touch me. You might catch on fire, too. You-- you need to go--” he says before devolving into wheezing coughs.

MK lets go of his shirt and clenches his fists. He wouldn’t let his mentor get in trouble trying to protect him again. “No, I need to help! I’m- I’m the hero guy now! I can do this!” He locks eyes with the Monkey King giving him a fierce and determined look.

The Monkey King stares back, steadily reading his student’s expression, before closing them and giving a nod. He looks up at MK with a strained, but proud smile and trusting eyes.

MK smiles back. Though it worries him that the Monkey King seems to be having trouble even talking right now, having his mentor’s affirmation means everything to him.

Suddenly a metallic screech blares behind him, so grating that he has to hold his hands to his ears. Turning around he sees DBK latching onto the Monkey Mech’s fist, twisting its metal, and grappling the giant mech to the ground. Flames twist around the fist and travel upward to the face of the mech, blooming into a fiery explosion.

“MEI!” MK screams as worry fills his heart. For a second he can’t breathe as he sees blue flames envelop the cockpit area, obscuring any sight of his best friend.

A streak of blue flies upward out of the head of the mech and for a moment MK thinks that it’s the flames flying even higher, until he realizes that it’s humanoid shaped. As the streak arcs downward he recognizes that it’s Sandy! With Pigsy and Mr. Tang hanging on his shoulders! And Mei held protectively in his arms!

He lands next to MK with a smile, a hearty laugh, and smoke trailing behind him. “Hello, MK! I brought some friends!”

Pigsy and Mr. Tang jump off quickly and rush to his side. He lets Mei down gently, who wobbles slightly and holds onto his arm for some support. Small blue flames start blackening her jacket sleeve. “Let me just take your jacket for you, Mei,” Sandy says, quickly, but carefully, pulling it off her shoulders in a practiced motion and flinging it to the side.

“Mei!” MK exclaims, rushing over to her and giving her a big hug. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy,” she says with slightly unfocused eyes. “I think I breathed in too much smoke.” She winces and holds her head.

MK looks over her, worriedly, and then a flicker of light catches his eye.

“Sandy! You’re on fire!” Pigsy exclaims.

“Well, I do think that was an exciting last-minute save, thank you!” Sandy says cheerily.

At everyone’s pause he looks to his shoulder to see a small blue flame burning there. “Oh you mean that!” he says, cheery voice not faltering in the slightest.

“SANDY!” Pigsy yells angrily.

Sandy laughs sheepishly. “Ah hah, I must’ve got singed a bit when rescuing Mei. But don’t worry, we’re here to deal with that problem. MK, you can stop DBK while Tang tries to find a possible cure in that book of his.”

Mr. Tang pushes his glasses up his nose. “Yes, I will research on how to extinguish the True Fire of Samadhi…” he says calmly, before his voice raises into a fearful shriek, “just as it iS COMING RIGHT AT US!”

True to his shout, a blast of fire is headed their way. MK isn’t going to let it get advantage of them this time. He quickly summons his staff. Though he doesn’t know the fire repellant wards that Monkey King does, he can at least deflect the flames with the staff. He twirls the staff catching up the fire with it, and whips it around sending it back the Bull King’s way. DBK absorbs the fire back into his chest and growls angrily.

“MK, go and deal with the Demon Bull King!” Pigsy says. “I’ll keep an eye on these guys while Tang tries to find a solution in that book of his!”

MK nods and rushes to battle the new commander of the flames that took down his mentor.

DBK breathes out a couple of fire blasts, which MK swats out of the way with his staff. He closes in on DBK and swings a third swipe right at his head. DBK catches the attack with one of his horns and flicks it backwards. He swings a punch at MK’s midsection, which MK blocks with his staff. He retaliates with a few quick jabs of his staff, forcing DBK to take some steps back to dodge. The demon stamps one of his hooves to the ground, emitting sparks as if they were a flint hitting stone, causing fire to flare around him. MK is forced to do an impromptu jig to dodge the sparks. Doing so leaves an opening for DBK to thrust his head forward in an attempt to gouge him with his horns.

MK hears his shirt tear and feels a sharp point slash across his skin. He squints his eyes shut at the pain that is sure to come, but before he can even think, DBK has thrown another punch his way, ramming into his chest and flinging him across the battlefield.

Wind whips past his ears and he feels his body hit a wall, debris scattering about him. Dust surrounds him and obscures his vision. He hears a ringing in his ears and the shouting of his friends’ worried voices, calling his name. His feet land on the ground and he stumbles a few steps forward, but does not fall. There is surprisingly little pain. The dust clears and he blinks his eyes, looking down at himself. He is… fine…? His shirt is torn, and there is a clear indication that he was thrown several yards, what with a furrow in the ground and a crater in the wall behind him. But there are no apparent injuries on him. He remembers to breathe and huffs out a surprised cough.

“..What?” he asks to no one.

He looks up and everyone, including DBK, looks just as confused as MK feels. Except for the Monkey King. Who he can see looking at him, with half lidded eyes and a contented smile. He recalls the moment back at Flower Fruit Mountain, when Monkey King sent him away. That hit to the chest!

“Monkey King...” he breathes. “You-- you undid the seal on my powers!?” he yells.

His mentor smiles wide enough that his eyes squint shut.

“So, you’re invincible again?!” Mei says excitedly.

“Yeah!” MK can’t help but mirror his friend’s smile as he pulls at the tear in his shirt. “I guess so!”

An angry snarl comes from DBK’s direction as does a stream of blue fire.

MK yelps and leaps out of the way. “Well… invincible except for the fire!” He runs away from the trail of fire following him, dodging around in a serpentine motion. He shouts over to where Pigsy and Mr. Tang are hovering by the Monkey King. “Mr.Tang! You got a solution to the fire problem yet?!”

Mr. Tang’s expression belies boredom, but his jaw is tight and his speech is sharp and hurried. He flips through his book and responds, “According to my research, the Samadhi Fire can only be sent away by the creator of the fire, held at bay by a fire repellent ward, or extinguished by a drop of sweet dew from the Bodhisattva Guanyin's vase.” He readjusts his glasses as a bead of sweat drips down his temple. “And unfortunately,” he gestures at DBK, “the creator of the fire doesn’t seem to be in the mood to stop shooting fire at us…” He gestures at the Monkey King, “...the only one who knows fire repellent wards is having trouble breathing, much less is able to form seals…” MK grimaces at this remark, but listens to Mr. Tang as he continues. “...And I don’t think we have any Bodhisattva’s present and willing to provide us with a drop of dew.”

That’s not good. The Monkey King’s state is getting worse and worse. The fire has already gotten on Sandy, and despite the big guy’s grin, he can tell the spreading burn is weighing on him. What can MK do? Keep fighting the Demon Bull King, and wait until each of his friends, including himself, accidentally catch on fire? He’s not sure he can dodge DBK forever, and even if he tires him out or defeats him, that’s not going to put the fire out. The flames from their battle are even beginning to overtake the surrounding area. Even if stopping DBK stops the flames, he’s not sure if he’d be able to do it in time to prevent more destruction or to save Monkey King!

He dodges another blast of fire. He squints his eyes shut in frustration. What can he do?!

Upon opening his eyes, everything is golden. True sight! He looks around and everything appears as if in slow-motion. Or rather, it’s all going at normal speeds, but it’s like he can see how everything moves and every single detail. He sees the flames curl around him, and which fiery hoops to dodge through. He can see the flames flare at DBK’s center and the pained squint around his eyes as if even the Demon Bull King is at the fire’s mercy. He can see Princess Iron Fan’s attempts to put out the fire only causing it to spread more, and Red Son’s still body. He can see Mei look between them all worriedly and how that causes her to become even dizzier. He hopes she didn’t get a concussion. He can see the corner of Sandy’s eyes squint in pain despite his smile, and Pigsy’s spittle as he yells at Mr. Tang to hurry up. He can see the cool expression on the scholar start to break as he flips through his book. He can see an illustration in the book of a drop of dew being poured from a heavenly looking vase. Somehow he sees the dew drip down the page and onto the ground. Except that the ground suddenly becomes an ocean, as if an entire body of water was held within that one drop of heavenly dew, and he is completely enveloped in its vastness.

He blinks. The ocean is gone and the golden view is receding. But before it leaves completely it focuses on the Monkey King. The fire has crept up to his chest and shoulder. He is no longer breathing. As if the flames have claimed the air in his lungs.

MK has no more time.

He thinks of the ocean.

He knows what he must do.

MK leaps through another twist of flame, but instead of landing he thrusts his staff to the ground, and extends it to hurl himself high up into the air. He looks out, across the city, to the bay and finds what he is looking for.

“Picking up an entire ocean can’t be too much harder than picking up a mountain. Right?” he jokes in an attempt to alleviate his worries. It doesn’t really.

He hopes this works. It will work. It has to work!

He enlarges the staff further and extends it over to the waters. He’s in the air, but does what his mentor taught him as best he can. “Step into the strike.”

He swings the now gigantic staff, thrusting the end into the ocean, and putting his entire body into the motion. He strains his muscles, and even for an invincible and powerful being, this is hard. Slowly, but surely, the staff moves. And the ocean with it. The force of the strike pulls the ocean right out of the bay, out of the earth, and a near infinite wall of water seizes up behind him.

MK swoops the staff around, and brings it, and the entire ocean crashing down. He doesn’t do so carelessly, no. He wills the waters to drench the area, the buildings, his friends with a strong enough flow to extinguish the flames, but not to harm. But as for the demons who caused this mess, he lets the full weight of the water slam into them. Angrily. Mercilessly.

Like the torrents currently surrounding him, anger and hatred swirl around MK. He pushes the water down onto his enemies. He forces the water to seep into the tech on DBK’s chest, making sure that he extinguishes every last bit of that blue fire. He throws it down on Red Son and Princess Iron Fan, as well. They all deserve this, right? They tricked him! They used him to bring them to the Monkey King. They hurt him! They hurt his friends! They tried to kill his friends! They almost killed his mentor! Had they killed his mentor? Is he still alive? Is this even helping?

He looks to his friends. The fire had gone out. But his friends look distressed. He sees Mei strain to look up at him through the streaming waters whipping around her. She looks shocked and worried. MK notices his face is scrunched up and his brows are furrowed harshly. What must he look like right now?

He looks over to his enemies, the water is pushing them back, threatening to force them into the bay and be lost at sea once the waters return there. Red Son started this, but he had been out the entire fight, injured and unable to defend himself. DBK had attacked, but was obviously overcome with the power. And Princess Iron Fan hadn’t even lifted a finger to him or his friends here. What’s the point of hurting them further?

MK looks at the Monkey King. The way the water flows around him, MK could pretend that it is as if his mentor is moving. But he’s not. MK knows he’s not. He had stopped the fire. Isn’t that enough?

He hopes it is enough, because if it isn’t, he doesn’t know what he’d do. He just wants his friends to be safe. He just wants his mentor to wake up and keep teaching him. He shouldn’t have this much power right now. Not yet. He can’t handle it yet. He needs his teacher.

And like the weight of the ocean, the weight of his emotions come crashing down. A sob bubbles out of his throat and he bursts into tears. The wave of water he’s controlling suddenly breaks apart, expanding over the area and covering it in a torrential downpour of salty rain.

MK floats down to the ground and stands there listlessly as equally salty tears slide down his face. He wobbles and is caught by the sudden embrace of his best friend. Mei holds him close, and MK sinks into the hug. His legs give out underneath him, and she follows him gently to the ground, kneeling beside him. He buries his face just below her shoulder and cries heavily into her shirt. She holds him tightly as if helping to hold back the sobs that are racking his body. The rain pouring around them forms white noise in MK’s ears, and he is reminded of the comfort she gave him before. Despite this he can just barely hear her calming whispers reach him, and he holds on tighter still.

Much larger arms surround them both. It’s Sandy. MK can tell from the tint of blue at the corner of his vision and the scent of tea and baked goods that seem to surround the large man. Sandy picks them both up and holds them protectively. The love and comfort he feels from his friends is enough to help him quiet his crying. He tries to dry his tears, but with the rain drenching everything, the act is useless. Still he looks up at them with grateful, watery eyes, and says, “Thanks guys.”

“Of course, MK,” Mei says like she helped him beat a level in a video game and not like her support means the world to him.

“You did it, MK!” Sandy says jovially!

MK winces a bit at his booming voice, but gives a slight smile. It fades immediately at the thought of his mentor. “The Monkey King! Is he all right?!”

The two of them look over in that direction. Pigsy and Mr. Tang are on either side of the Monkey King. Mr. Tang looks like he is making jabbing motions with his fingers at the Monkey King while Pigsy is flailing his arms wildly and yelling.

“What do ya think you’re doing?!” MK can hear Pigsy yell as Sandy brings him and Mei closer.

“I’m trying to hit his chakra points to help him start breathing again!” Mr. Tang exclaims, all attempts at remaining calm completely lost.

“Can ya even do that?!” Pigsy says, trying to sound sarcastic, but the rising tone of his voice gives away his panic.

“I’m following the book’s instructions!”

“Well do it better!”

“I’m trying!”

“Listen ta me, Tang! That’s not even tha way to do it! Ta make someone breathe again, ya just gotta slap ‘em like this!” Pigsy exclaims winding up an arm.

Mr. Tang flails his own arms and says, “Pigsy, I don’t think you should act rashly and--”

But it’s no good as Pigsy lands a couple of harsh blows to the Monkey King’s back. Everyone else flinches slightly and lets out variations of yelps and “No’s”, but they’re all surprised when a wheezing cough comes out of the Monkey King’s mouth.

“Monkey King!” MK exclaims and scrambles out of Sandy and Mei’s grip to sit next to his mentor.

The Monkey King makes a few more dry coughs and pants heavily. With obvious effort, he opens his eyes and looks up at his student. A wobbly smile spreads on MK’s face and once again tears threaten to spill over. “You’re okay!”

The Monkey King smiles as well and takes a few more steadying breaths before attempting to speak. “Thanks to you, kid! Good hero work!”

MK’s smile wobbles back into a frown and he leans over and hugs the Monkey King, careful to avoid any overly singed fur. He buries his face in his fur and shudders with no help from the cold rain.

“I’m okay, kid. I’m okay!” the Monkey King reassures his shivering student. He doesn’t move, but the shallow, yet now steady, breathing and the whispers of reassurance let MK know that he was right, and everything would be okay.

After a moment of calm silence, Pigsy speaks up. “Well, we better get ‘im someplace where we can take care of his wounds. Let’s head back to the noodle shop, I got some first aid kits in there.”

“Do you even know how to take care of an immortal?” Mr. Tang says.

“Hey, I helped revive him, didn’t I? I'll figure it out when we get there! Sandy, your arm good enough to carry him? I can patch you up as well!”

“I should be good enough to get to the noodle shop,” Sandy says.

MK allows Sandy to pick up the Monkey King, who seems to be slipping in and out of consciousness now, but still breathing steadily.

MK allows himself one last look at the now empty battlefield.

“The DBK family is gone…” Mei says as if to echo his very thoughts.

“Maybe they got taken away by the water…?” Sandy says, looking out to the direction of the sea.

“Ah good riddance, is what I say!” says Pigsy with a wave of his hand. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

With one last look out to sea, MK turns around and hurries to keep pace with Sandy, and keeps an eye on the steady rise and fall of The Monkey King's chest the whole way home.

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pamgkrthwrites · 4 years

Text

Flame of Healing | EraserMic x Reader | Chapter 1 - Fear

Masterlist | AO3

Warning: Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2023

A/N: So this chapter is rather slow and you don’t really see Shouta or Hitzashi with chapter, but we will get there I promise. Just hold up for me please.

Everyone got their soulmate names at the same time they got their quirk. However, unlike everyone else, you were part of the small 1% who got two names on their wrists.

Even now, you can remember your parents and siblings faces when they found out. You younger brother grew disgusted while your older brother was happy for you. My father was indifferent while your mother was concerned.

Even now, you could remember your caretakers and classmates reactions. Everyone was judging you and so you decided when you were 10 that you would hide your soulmates names.

Luckily your mother was Hero, her quirk being named Phoenix, a firebird quirk with some regeneration with it. Your father was guirkless but worked in the police force. She was able to get you all to move to Musutafu when you made this choice.

You would cover the names each day with waterproof makeup and with your mother connections, were able to have your soulmates names censored from your legal papers. However, that never stopped you from looking at their names at night.

Shouta Aizawa on your right wrist and Hizashi Yamada on your left wrist. You would stare at their names for hours and whisper promises that once you meet, you’ll be better than you are now.

Your older brother got the bird quirk from your mother, having dove-like wings on his back. Your younger brother had a fire quirk that responded to his emotions. You, however, got the regeneration part of your mother’s quirk. You could heal anyone around you and would always be full of energy. You were often put into sports events forced by your school as you could stay in the game. You felt little pain and could spread that to the rest of your team.

However, you learnt early on that people liked to use you for your quirk. You had more fake friends than you could count. The only real friend you had was a boy named Oboro Shirakumo. Sadly you met him in your last of middle school.

“Your applying to UA’s hero course?” You asked him.

“Yeah!” You smiled brightly as you two walked home from school. “I know we have joked about being heroes, but I really want to be one, ya know!”

“I’m happy for you Oboro.” You smile back at him. “Just don’t get hurt, I can’t just walk up over there to heal your dumbass all the time.”

Oboro laughed at your silly comment at him and he softly nudged your arm. You smiled, but at the back of your mind, you were sad at this. You were happy for him sure, but you would have to watch your only real friend walk away. Walk somewhere you saw your own mother had walked from. Hero life seemed cool, but it wasn’t from your point of view. You and your brothers had been endanger before from villains hating your mother.

“Don’t see this as me abandoning you, okay?” He said softly.

You looked up at him and his soft smile. You had wanted to tell Oboro the truth about your soulmate situation, but feared he would get mad at the lie or be disgusted at you for having two soulmates, like almost everyone in your life. He actually didn’t have a soulmate, and so you feared he may see you as mocking him, even though you had been doing this for 4 or so years.

“I could never, Oboro.” You smiled sweetly at him. “You’re my best friend and I will stand by you, even if we become distance.”

He smiled. “We can choose our own destinies Y/N.”

Oboro often said this because of his no soulmate situation. He saw it as that we got to choose who we love while everyone else didn’t. It kinda hurt, considering you had two soulmates, but you started to really think about his meaning.

Did you actually have to love your soulmate? Could you avoid meeting them? Could you lie to them? Could you hate them? Could you love someone who isn’t your soulmate?

Your thoughts went to a dark place with it, sure, but there were questions no one wanted to ask or answer, besides you.

When Oboro got accepted into UA, you were happy for him. You two had a small party at his place, but when the new school year started you noticed him being really focused for once. Well, more focused.

You meet up became less and less. The weekend before the sports festival came and you went over to Oboro’s house.

“Oboro, how you doing buddy?” You slowly entered into his room.

The boy with blue fire like hair looked up at you. His head was laid down onto his desk and his eyes looked tired.

“Y/N, the training for the festival…” He said in a weak voice as he weakly reached out for you.

You giggled and walked over to him. You sat down next to him, put your hand on his back and activated your quirk.

“This will just give a little boost and make sure you won’t get sick. You need to sleep Oboro.” You patted his back once you were done.

“Are you coming to the festival?!” He smiled at you he leaned closer to you.

Your faces were almost touching and you felt you checks burn.

“Um, yeah I will. I won’t be able to come backstage or anything-”

“If you walk in with me, you are able to sit backstage with us!” He smiled, devilishly.

“...What are you planning, Oboro?”

“I just want you to meet Shouto and Hizashi, Y/N.” He smiled brightly as he brought his face away from yours.

Your heart dropped and your eyes widen. You felt cold. How did he know about their names?

“They’re in my class at UA!” You said, after seeing your reaction. “I noticed your name on their wrists but also each other names. I pieced it together quickly after that.”

“...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Oboro. I got judged for it a lot and so I-”

Oboro put a finger on your lips and looked into your eyes. “I know Y/N, and I understand. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Besides you trying to match me up with my soulmates.” You jokes and pushed his hand away in a joking manner.

“It will be fun though!” He whined with a smile on his face.

“I’m not ready yet though!” You joked with him.

“Shouta isn’t ready either to be honest.” He leaned back in his chair and made a serious face.

“What do you mean?” You asked as fear started to walk up your back.

“Hizashi is the only person he talks to in the class for obvious reasons.” He sighed as he pushed back his hair. “When I tried talking to him he closed me off. He doesn’t know what hero he wants to be just yet, which is fine don’t get me wrong. But he doesn’t have a fighting style yet and his eyes get sore a lot.”

“...His eyes get sore?”

“YES!” Oboro sad up and smiled up at you again. “That’s how your perfect for him! You could help him with his sore eyes and musicals and help him when he is sick!”

“I-” Oboro cut you off.

“And Hizashi has a loud personality. Like, the opposite of Shouto! They both don’t know how to chill! You are such a perfect fit for them!”

“...But what about you saying we can choose our own destinies?” You asked.

Oboro had a concerned and worried expression on his face.

“You didn’t take what I said to heart about that, did you?”

You could hear your breathing. “What is that suppose to mean?”

“I said that because you always looked sad when soulmates were brought up! I thought it was because you didn’t have one so I wanted you to believe you could still find love.”

“... So you don’t believe soulmates can avoid each other?”

Oboro had a worried and shocked expression. “Y/N, why do you not want to meet them?”

“I mean, they already met right?” Your voice became strained but you kept up your seriousness. “They don’t need their third wheel ruining that for them. I’m fine on my own anyway.”

Oboro just stared at you. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “You can’t actually mean that, you know that right?”

You stared at your friend and back off. “I’m sorry Oboro, but I do. Maybe I will change my opinion on the matter later in life, but this is what I think right now.”

Your friend just stared at you. “Are you sure about this Y/N?”

“Yes Oboro, I am sure.”

---

The following week, you were sitting in the stands with your older brother for the UA sports festival. You cheered for your friend who you saw doing his best. He made eye contact with you at one point, he waved at you and you waved back.

A boy with yellow hair that was styled up walked up to him and started talking to him. You saw Oboro side eye at you and smirk. You could only guess that blondie was one of your soulmates or he was just teasing.

But as you watched on, you heard a names you thought you would never hear over the announcement.

“A student that was falling behind but catching up young Aizawa Shouta.”

Your older brother’s neck snapped to face the big screen to see the face of one of your soulmates. You slowly turned your head and saw a skinny boy with shoulder length hair.

You could see how tired he looked, even from the low quality camera. You could feel your cheeks burn and your heart thump loudly.

Your brother smiled brightly until he saw your face, which had fear written all over it.

“Y/N, you okay?” Your older brother asked.

“...Can we go home?”

“...Sure we can…”

Oboro looked up at where you were sitting in the stands and saw you leave rather quickly. He sighed as he placed his hands on his hips.

“What am I going to do with you, Y/N?”

---

“Oboro was willing to let you meet one of your soulmates and you turned it down?!” Your mother looked down at you. “What were you thinking? Any sane human being would have loved or drooled at a opportunity like that Y/N!”

“I know mother but-”

“If you are going to cry to me about being a third wheel again Y/N-”

Your older brother cut your mother off and stood in between you two. “How about we take a breather, okay? Y/N got really scared when she saw Shouta. Some soulmates do that. We have to let them meet naturally.”

“Naturally? She knows what he looks like! She is going to get cold feet everytime they see each other from now on.”

Your mother was right, but you had locked yourself in your room. You pulled up the reply of the sports festival and looked at Shouta’s face for a really long time. You heart pounded in your chest over and over. He was really beautiful. You couldn’t identify Hizashi, but you had a theory on who it could be.

It was a boy Shouta was running with at one point. He had blonde hair that was styled almost like a punk rocker that always had a smile one and was loud. He also made your heart pound and you couldn’t help just see him as handsome.

You heard your doorbell ring and so you existed your room. You saw Oboro and he smiled brightly and ran over to you.

“You saw Shouta, didn’t you! That’s why you left early!”

“...Yes…” You sighed out.

He smiled so brightly. He started to jump up and down and ran into your room. “I’ll point out Hizashi for you! And if you change your mind by the next school festival then I have no problem taking you there myself okay?”

You felt your heart swell and you smiled sweetly at your friend. “Thanks Oboro.”

#shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #eraserhead #Present Mic #shouta aizawa x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #erasermic x reader #soulmate au

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shutupandshipit · 4 years

Text

Christmas Preemie - One Shot

Summary: Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.”.

....

Or where Izuku makes a joke and forgets to knock on wood.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Check out Coming Home if you haven’t already! It precedes this fic!

Author’s Note: So, I'm sure other places have Christmas Strolls, but I've never seen one outside my hometown. It's literally my favorite part of the entire year, but I haven't gotten to visit it in more than 5 years. I didn't mention the name of the street in the fic, but it is based on the actual Plumas Street and Christmas Stroll that's in my hometown. When you're imagining it, think of what main street for a small town would look like (except we haven't been a small town in many many decades). Also, before anyone mentions it, yes the tortoise from the pat store that's mentioned is an actual thing we saw often. They would tie a balloon to him to keep track or where he went. He was pretty freaking big (medium dog size), and if I remember correctly, he was over 100 years old.

It's Christmas day here in Japan for me, so have another Christmas fic. Anyway, enjoy! Stop by and tell me what your Christmas Stroll/Festival is like! (when there isn't Covid) Blessed Yule! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Whatever you're celebrating, I wish you a happy day!

"Daddy."

The whisper was just soft enough to wake him up, but not loud enough to startle him. Still, Izuku hoped if he pretended not to hear it, it would just end up being a dream. He let his face remain slack, his breathing steady.

A few seconds later before Izuku had even managed to doze off again, the whisper came again, closer this time. “Daddy, wake up.” Weight followed, two small hands pressing into his chest with all their weight.

“Sumi,” Izuku breathed quietly, still refusing to move and believe his daughter had woken him up, “It is very early and Daddy is very tired. Please go back to sleep.”

“But there’s someone outside the door. I can smell them.” The weight disappeared from his chest, but not the edge of the bed.

Groaning, Izuku pushed himself up and peeled his eyes open. Weak blue morning light crawled into the room from beneath the curtains. On the bedside table, blurry red numbers told him that it was only 6:22 AM. Katsuki was still dead asleep beside him, pillow covering his head while his hand lay protectively over his belly.

Sumi bounced anxiously on the edge of the bed, her protheses bare metal all the way down to her toes. She glanced between the door and Izuku. Her wild green locks were wilder than usual from sleep, a brush handle protruding over the top of her head at the back of her hair.

Before Izuku could move to extract it, a knock sounded at the door. Three short, but loud, raps. Both he and Sumi startled, glancing at Katsuki before each other.

With a heavy sigh, Izuku nudged Sumi off the edge of the bed and stood. He was just pulling a shirt over his bare torso when the knocking came again. Louder this time.

Izuku wasn’t someone who normally got agitated easily, but between the early hour and the jetlag, he was less inclined towards solicitude. Jerking open the door, scent flaring out strong and sharp, he growled, “What?” He felt Sumi press against the side of his leg, and glanced down to see her baring her teeth.

The man on the otherside was a burly looking alpha fellow with an overwhelming burning sage scent. Irritation made the scent sharper, less pleasant plant life and more like weed. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, murky brown eyes cut in thin slits. He was taller than Izuku by several inches, but Izuku had no doubts that he could still take the alpha down even without One For All. “Tell your wife to reel in her pheromones. I’ve got three alpha teens in the next room over, and she’s driving them nuts.”

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the still form of Katsuki before pushing Sumi back into the room and stepping out to square up against the man in front of him. He smiled, sharp and dangerous, channeling every ounce of Katsuki he had stored in his veins. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? My English isn’t that great. I thought I just heard you say it’s my omega’s fault your boys can’t control themselves.” His English was almost as good as his Japanese after four years with Sumi and Katsuki and Shonetta every other day.

The alpha huffed, glaring down his nose at Izuku. “That’s right. You know you can’t bring omegas in heat to hotels in the U.S.”

“Wow! Amazing! You can’t do that in Japan either, and my omega isn’t in heat.”

“Whatever she is, you need to get her to reel in her fucking pheromones. I’m sure we’re not the only family being bothered.”

“I think,” Izuku started sweetly, “maybe, you need to teach your boys some self control. If they get riled up just from smelling an omega, I think the fault lies with their parents and not a family minding their own business in a separate room.” His smile could have cut glass.

The alpha bristled, face going red. “Why you-”

The door opened behind Izuku, and both alpha’s startled as a disgruntled Katsuki stepped up behind Izuku. “What’s going on? Do you know what fucking time it is, asshole?”

Izuku hadn’t heard Katsuki get up, and assumed Sumi had made the decision to get him. His protheses were attached, metal bare to the morning chill. Katsuki was also shorter than the alpha, but his presence was far more intimidating as he glared at him in all his pregnant glory. At eight months, Katsuki was deep into his pregnancy, and deeply over it as well. He had begun to swell at five months and hadn’t stopped.

“I’m just giving this man some parenting advice,” Izuku said, glancing at the other alpha whose face had drained completely of color.

Katsuki shot narrowed eyes at Izuku. “Yeah, sure sounded like it.”

“You’re Dynamight-”

“Yeah, what of it?” Katsuki groused. His eyes turned back to the alpha, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

Katsuki, pregnant and tired, was not someone a lot of people knew how to deal with. They’d set up the trip to visit Shonetta and Cynthia before they’d had the pregnancy confirmed. Izuku had suggested they move it either one way or the other around the birth to provide his mate with more comfort, but the paperwork had already been in route and tickets purchased. On top of that, Katsuki had been sure he was going to be just as small as when he’d had Katsumi. He had surpassed that stage two months ago.

The alpha seemed to shrink under Katsuki’s steady anger. “I, uh, I’m sure you don’t remember me, but you might remember my daughter? She was kidnapped while we were at the zoo, and you saved her before the guy could throw her into the lion pit.”

After a moment, Katsuki said, “Little red headed omega. Freckles everywhere. Presented very early at seven or something like that. Wouldn’t let any of the alpha heroes near her.”

A smile split across the alpha’s face, and Izuku wasn’t exactly sure what was happening here. “Yes! You were the only one who could get her to calm down enough to come out of the crevice she’d wedged herself in behind the statue.”

Katsuki considered the guy again, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. “Right, now what were you saying about omegas earlier?”

Sumi pressed between them, eyes still narrowed at the man before them.

Red bloomed in the alpha’s face again, but this time it seemed to be in embarrassment. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all! Your mate was giving me some parenting advice like he said.” A door opened close by.

“Right.”

Izuku and Sumi glanced down the hall to see an omega girl of about twelve pop out of the door.

“Dad, Danny said- Mr. Dynamight!” She darted out, letting the door slam shut behind her. She gasped. “Katsumi!”

“Katherine!” Sumi shouted in return, wriggling out from between Katsuki and Izuku to jump around with the other girl, hairbrush still in her hair and all. “You’re so much bigger than me now! Do you talk to Ms. Bains anymore?”

While the little girls chattered excitedly with each other, Katsuki pointed at the alpha. “You, come here,” he growled threateningly, palm crackling quietly. Swallowing, the alpha stepped just a hair closer, and Katsuki snapped out a hand to jerk him forward until they were nose to nose. He hissed, “Get your fucking boys under control and stop blaming others for your short-comings. You’ve got a fucking omega daughter, and you’re spouting that rhetoric around her? Get your fucking priorities straight.”

“Y-yes, sir,” the man squeaked.

Katsuki pushed him away. “Great, now that we understand each other.” He turned, slowly making his way back into the room, but returned only a moment later with something clutched in his hand. “Hey, girl!”

Katherine perked up, trotting over to the three adults with Sumi’s hand still clutched in hers. “Yes, sir?”

“Here, something to make your brothers jealous.” Katsuki held out a bandana that their PR agents had specially made when Katsuki and Izuku had publicized their bond. Cut from one corner to the other, one side was green and black with Izuku’s signature bunny motif while the other side was black and orange with ‘X’ graphics. They’d brought a couple of the prototypes to give to Shonetta and Cynthia. “That’s the first like it. I sighed the ‘X’ in the corner, and I’m sure Deku would sign it too if you ask him.”

Katherine turned big brown cow eyes on Izuku, and he smiled as he turned to find a sharpie.

Behind him, he heard Katsumi shout, “I’ve got one too! We can match! We’ve got shirts too! I could send you one when we get home!”

“Would you?” Katherine asked excitedly. Izuku grabbed a pen and paper as well, returning. As he traded everything in his hands for the bandana, she asked, “Dynamight, can I feel your belly, please? I’ve never gotten to feel a baby move before.”

“Go ahead, kid.” If Katsuki Bakugou was anything, he was soft when it came to children and other omegas.

Izuku thought maybe it was something he’d never really completely get about his mate. He knew it had to do with biology, but he thought maybe it had to do with just Katsuki himself. He was gruff around the edges, but he had an ingrained instinct to protect those weaker than him. Then again, Izuku was softer than him when it came to children, so who was really to say.

Katherine stepped forward, pressing reverential fingers to Katsuki’s distended stomach before leaning to press her ear there as well. Sumi followed her lead, chattering all the while as the girls felt and listened. Katherine let out a high, girlish giggle as she pulled back. “He kicked me in the face! What a little bugger.” Still, she pressed her ear right back to where it had been. “You smell good, Dynamight, sir.”

“Well, heck, I hope so. How else am I supposed to keep this one around?” Katsuki jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Izuku who huffed out a laugh in response.

Laughing, Katherine took a few more moments before pulling away. She scribbled a cell number, email address, and physical address before exchanging the notepad for the bandana again. “One day,” she said very seriously, staring up at Katsuki with wonder in her eyes, “I’m going to grow up just as strong as you. I’m going to be a great omega hero like you!”

Her father seemed ready to protest, opening his mouth to say whatever had come to mind, but Izuku put his hand on his shoulder with another sharp smile.

Katsuki’s expression was soft as he patted her on the shoulder. “Hit us up when you’re about to intern in high school, and maybe I’ll be able to work something with Negative. Or if you choose not to be a hero in this sense, you can intern with her wife at the hospital as a nurse or a midwife. There’s a lot of avenues that you could take. Make sure you pick the one that makes you happy.”

Katherine nodded, just a quick bob of her head. “I will.” Before they could part, she wrapped her arms around Katsuki and then did the same to Sumi. When she pulled away, eyes finding her father, they went wide. “Oh no! I forgot. Danny said that the toilet is clogged and it’s leaking all over the bathroom.”

“Ah! What the hell!” The alpha threw his hands into the air, stomping towards the door she’d come out of.

With a giggle, she hurried after him. “Bye, Katsumi! Bye, Mr. Dynamight! Bye, Mr. Deku! Hope to see you again!”

As they disappeared into the room, Katsuki turned to Sumi. “Okay, little monster, time to get ready. Shonetta and Cynthia are supposed to be picking us up soon, and why is there a hairbrush stuck in your hair! Deku!”

Izuku gaped. “It was there when she woke me up! Don’t go blaming me!”

“And yet, I’m still going to.”

…..

-7 months earlier-

“Izuku fucking Midoriya-Bakugou, get your ass in here!”

It wasn't often that Katsuki called Izuku by his full name, and he nearly dropped the plate he'd been holding as Katsuki's enraged voice thundered from the bathroom. He and Sumi, now a stunning nine-year-old and growing bigger every day, caught each other's eyes across the kitchen counter. It had been what felt like years since Katsuki had yelled at him so ferociously.

' Papa's mad !' Sumi signed helpfully, eyes darting to the bathroom door before returning to Izuku.

' Yeah, but the question is how much ?' Izuku signed back one-handed, soapy fingers moving quickly through the air, ' And why ?'

“Fucking Deku!”

Izuku startled again, this time actually dropping the plate as he darted away. Sumi's laughter followed after him, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “K-Kacchan? What's the matter?” he asked tentatively as he pushed into the bathroom. He paused just inside the door.

Katsuki sat on the edge of the sink, head cradled in his hands, fingers pressed to his eyes. The scent hit him next, sweet caramel and all-spice spiked with the bitter tang of bile and urine. Last was the quiet growling hum Katsuki seemed to be letting slip.

“Kacchan?” Izuku stepped completely into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Whatever this was, he doubted Katsuki wanted Sumi in on it just yet. “What's the matter?”

“Are you fucking happy?” Katsuki growled, but the edges were softer and fonder than Izuku normally received when Katsuki was angry with him.

That made him wonder; was Katsuki actually angry or just trying to hide something? “A-a-about what? What's going on?” When Katsuki jerked his head toward the toilet, Izuku stepped around him and stopped again.

Right on top of the lid, four pregnancy tests sat. Four pink sticks with four pink plus signs on white faces stared up at him.

He was crying before he'd even fully comprehended the sheer magnitude of what the tests meant. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he whispered, “How long have you thought...”

“A couple weeks. About a month, but I wasn't sure. Didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Had to check after I puked though.” Katsuki still hadn't lifted his head, and Izuku turned to press between his knees, leaning in to lightly scent the top of his head.

“Kacchan, you really are?” he asked with a hiccup, throat thick and voice choked, “Really? You're not messing with me?”

“Tell me, in what world do you think I'd joke about this?”

A sob slipped passed his lips. “Really? You're really pregnant? Are...” he trailed off, fear coiling in his stomach right alongside the excited butterflies, “Are you mad about it?”

Katsuki released a heavy sigh, and dropped his hands. A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, and he met Izuku's eyes. "No. No, I'm not, Izuku. Maybe it's just my stupid omega brain, but... I love Katsumi and I loved when she was a baby, and I didn't think it was going to feel the way it did. I didn't think I'd get another chance to feel that again. It's different having a baby and that changed my whole world. And this time..." Reaching out, he gripped Izuku's hips and pulled him close. "This time you'll be here to experience it too."

A torrent of sobs fell from Izuku's mouth, and he covered his face with his hands. Pressing forward, he wrapped his arms around Katsuki's neck to press his face into Katsuki's shoulder instead. "Kacchan, I'm so happy! I can't believe- I didn't think- I'm so happy!"

"Yeah, that's obvious, nerd," Katsuki said fondly, threading his fingers into Izuku's hair to hold him close. "Get it all out now. You're not allowed to be emotional for the next nine months. Got it?"

"That's totally unreasonable." Izuku laughed, breath sticky and wet against his own face. "But I'll try my best." He let out a breath, finally calming as he pulled back. “I can't wait to share these next months with you."

"You won't be saying that soon," Katsuki warned, but his smile ruined the effect. He pulled Izuku back in, this time for a kiss. And even though his mouth still tasted hideous, Izuku couldn’t have been happier.

Sumi burst through the door, eyes wild, hair wilder, hands popping around a phone screaming with Shonetta's voice. "I'm going to have a baby brother?" she screeched, launching herself between Izuku and Katsuki to try and get closer. "Let me touch your belly, Papa! I want to feel Taiyo move!"

"Katsumi!" Katsuki growled warningly as he pulled back to glare down at her, "How many times have I told you to not eavesdrop! Or answer my phone!"

Izuku was laughing though, stepping back to hoist her into his arms. "Sumi, you won't be able to feel them move for a long time. And how long have you had that name picked out? Also, hello, Negative."

Shonetta wasn't paying attention, screaming instead at Katsuki to pick up his phone so she could congratulate him. He didn't comply, ears red and face buried in his hands.

"Since I was three!" Sumi announced, "And I told Papa I wanted a baby brother like the other girls in my class!"

"And I told you not to hold your breath, you little monster," Katsuki growled before groping blindly for the phone. Removing his hand, he glared down at the woman on the screen with red cheeks and curled lips. "You tell anyone, woman, and it'll be the end of you, do you hear me?"

"I've already texted Cynthia."

"You know she's not who I'm talking about."

Izuku could hear the grin in Shonetta's voice rather than see it. "Well, the entire agency is congratulating you. Don't ignore them when they text you."

"Bitch-"

"Katsuki," Izuku reprimanded quickly, but Sumi was already preoccupied as she chattered away at Shonetta.

…..

-Present-

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, get over here and put your jacket on or I’m going to leave you here, and you’re not going to get to go to the Christmas Stroll at all.”

Izuku popped his head into the little guest room that Shonetta and Cynthia had set up for Sumi to use for the week they’d be in America. There was an air mattress on the floor with a rumpled pink comforter in the middle surrounded by two desks and numerous filing cabinets. Sitting on the edge of the mattress was Sumi, arms crossed over her chest in consternation.

“No! It’ll be too hot!” she shot back, “I can dress myself!”

“Clearly not if I’m having to tell you to put on more clothes because it’s going to be cold!” Katsuki snarled, out of breath as he glared at his daughter. He was gripping the back of a computer chair with one hand while the other pressed to the small of his back, face contorted with as much discomfort as it was irritation. “I’m not asking. This is nonnegotiable, and I’m not in the mood to be arguing with you.”

Sumi turned up her nose, and Izuku got a very sudden and terrifying flashback to Katsuki when they’d been kids. “No. I’m not wearing it.”

Before either could snap back, Izuku stepped into the room with a smile. "Sumi, you know you're not supposed to be arguing with Papa right now." He turned to Katsuki with a smile that softened as that now familiar warmth of seeing Katsuki swollen with pregnancy filled his chest. "Kacchan, please sit down if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm fucking fine," Katsuki snapped, but almost immediately blanched and slowly sank into the computer chair. "Fucking kid." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and rubbed a hand over his belly. Once, twice, soothing circles.

When Izuku looked back at his daughter, he found guilt twisting her round face. "Wait here for me, Sumi, and we'll talk about the jacket. I'm going to help Papa outside."

"Okay," she mumbled, ducking her head and tugging at the end of her long braid, "Sorry, Papa."

Izuku gripped Katsuki forearm as he slowly stood back up. "Not your fault, little monster, your brother just has a lot of energy like Dad."

She didn't lift her head, and they both sighed as they made their slow way out of the room, and out to the living room.

"Shouldn't have yelled at her," Katsuki grumbled as he sat down and let Izuku slide and lace up the orthopedic boots from Cynthia on his feet.

"There was a better way to handle the situation, yes, but traveling always makes you irritable. And you've been doing really well handling your anger throughout your entire pregnancy." Task completed, Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki's belly and got kicked in the mouth for his trouble. "I'll talk to her, and then maybe you can talk to her about why you were frustrated later."

Katsuki made a sound above him, and Izuku lifted his head to find his husband scrubbing at his eyes. Izuku pressed gentle fingers to Katsuki’s wrist, but it only made Katsuki's breath hitch. "You're so much better at this parenting thing than I am. What would I have done if you hadn't wanted to stay with us?"

Pregnancy hormones. Even eight months in, Izuku was still surprised by how wildly Katsuki's emotions could vacillate in a few moments. Anger to guilt to tears. Tears weren't something Katsuki was predisposed to, so each time Izuku found Katsuki crying over something, he always had to stop and think about his next step. Sometimes Katsuki would cry over something that made sense; pictures of Sumi in the hospital, a news story about children being lost in a villain attack, the anniversary of All Might's death. Sometimes, they didn’t make sense; the time he'd knocked the dish soap onto the floor, doing paperwork at home instead of at the agency because he'd had an appointment that day, watching Winnie the Pooh by himself while Sumi was at school.

Everything about pregnancy fascinated Izuku, and he felt blessed every moment of it he was able to share with his mate.

Standing, Izuku pulled Katsuki into his body, rubbing a hand up and down his spine. "We're a team, love, we've always been a team. This works because we're together. Even if I weren't here, I know you'd be nothing less than amazing."

They remained like that until Katsuki’s shaking slowed. After a moment, he whispered, “Deku.”

“Yes?”

“I want you suck your dick.”

Izuku felt his entire body flush from head to toe at the blunt word choice. He laughed, rubbing at his forehead. “How about we save that for later? I thought you wanted to go to this Christmas Stroll thing Sumi and Shonetta haven’t stopped talking about. Isn’t today the last night?”

Katsuki huffed against Izuku’s chest, fingers stilling where he’d pushed them up beneath Izuku’s shirt. “I would say ‘fuck it’,” he groused, using Izuku to stand back up, “But it’s Sumi’s favorite part of the season. The whole thing’s a fucking annoyance.” Which actually meant Katsuki enjoyed it, Izuku had discovered. “The things I do for that little monster and her godmothers.”

Izuku smoothed a hand over Katsuki belly, smiling as it was kicked at rather viciously. “He’s been moving around a lot, hasn’t he? Wouldn’t it be crazy if he decided to be a Christmas baby.”

Fingers curling in Izuku’s collar, Katsuki brought their noses very, very close. “Don’t even joke about that, shithead. I’m not done baking this loaf yet.” He pressed a quick kiss to Izuku’s lips before hobbling away towards the kitchen where Cynthia and Shonetta were singing Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. “Sumi’s still waiting for you.”

Izuku put on his own shoes before returning to the bedroom. Sumi was still sitting in the same spot he’d left her, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her long-sleeved t-shirt as she sniffled quietly. "I'm sorry," she whispered miserably.

Sighing, Izuku picked up the coat -barely a sweater really- that Katsuki had been trying to get Sumi to put on and sat down beside her. "Why are you sorry?"

Her shoulders hitched, just like her father’s a moment ago, and mumbled, “Because I’m being a bad girl.”

Running a hand up and down Sumi’s back like he’d done with Katsuki, he asked, “Why do you think you’re being a bad girl?”

“Because I was arguing with Papa and made him start to yell and now he’s mad at me. I don’t want to wear my jacket because it’ll be too hot, but I just get so mad when he starts to yell. I can’t help it.”

“You’re a lot like your Papa, baby. He’s like that too, and it took him a long time to learn not to let that be his first response.” Resting his hand on the side of Sumi’s head, he pulled her into his body, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He’s not mad at you, he just wants to make sure you don’t get sick. Papa shouldn’t have yelled at you, but you shouldn’t have yelled back, okay?”

“Okay.” Sumi hiccupped, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder.

Izuku let the moment stretch until he heard Cynthia’s voice coming down the hallway. “Alright, so here’s what we’re going to do.” Lifting her head, Sumi sat back to meet his eyes, silent and resolute. “I want you to put on your jacket before we go outside, okay. No, no arguments.” He put up a finger when her mouth automatically opened to argue. “You can take it off again in the car. You have to put it back on before you get out of the car. If it’s too hot after ten minutes of being outside, you can take it back off, but I want you to carry it just in case you do get cold. Okay? Is that fair?”

After a moment of puff-cheeked disdain, Sumi huffed and muttered, “Yes.”

…..

When the others had said ‘Christmas Stroll’, Izuku had been expecting houses lit with strings of light and families marveling at them as they passed. Maybe a few groups caroling or selling hot chocolate.

Izuku was not expecting a full-on parade of floats and fire trucks and police cars with people dressed as Santa Clause and elves dancing to Christmas music over loudspeakers. He also wasn’t expecting an entire street to be shut down and blocked off to allow the crowd to walk from one booth or store to another. At either end of the street, live music played. One side seemed to be professional musicians while the other side seemed to be high school students and volunteers. Behind the makeshift stages, Christmas trees towered, dripping in tinsel and sparkling lights and handmade ornaments from the ornament making stalls off to the sides.

Each booth and store shone with lights, boasting their wares. There was a whole booth dedicated to olive oil, another to soaps made out of goat’s milk, another to hero merch that Katsuki wouldn’t let him linger at. There even seemed to be a gift wrapping stall every ten meters or so. The stores were all small family owned businesses of holistic shops, restaurants and one records shop.

Katsumi ran out in front of them in the jacket she’d been so against with Shonetta, laughing as they held hands and darted around other families. Cynthia paced Katsuki, close at his elbow to help at any moment.

“Papa, look!” Sumi shouted, pointing down the road, “The tortoise from Guisser Pets is out again! Oh, Cookie Tree has a booth! Can we please get some cookies and hot chocolate!”

“Sure!” Katsuki called back, “Go pick out what you want, and we’ll catch up in a moment. Do a baker’s dozen!”

Other patrons glanced curiously at him, the Japanese obviously foreign to their ears, but Katsuki didn’t seem to notice as Izuku pressed close against his side. “This is really nice. They do this every year?” Izuku asked.

“Every damn year. The agency usually helps out too,” Katsuki said, eyes scanning over the crowd, “Those idiots should be around here som-”

“KATSUMI!”

Izuku and Katsuki lurched forward on instinct, Cynthia’s hand shooting out to grip Katsuki’s arm, but they stopped as quickly as they’d started. Up ahead, a group of heroes lifted their daughter into the air as she screamed with laughter. “Katsumi! Katsumi! Katsumi!” they chanted, Negative already in the middle of the group not making a lick of difference.

For a solid moment, they stood watching. Then Katsuki strode forward, intent in every step. “Hey, assholes! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Izuku had heard Katsuki use English before -at the hotel, on the phone with Shonetta, to Katsumi when she got overwhelmed- but it was a shock every time. And every time it made him hot around the collar. He watched completely dumbfounded as Katsuki stopped in front of the group, hands on his hips, and subsequently as they engulfed him into their mist. “Ah, Kat!” they shouted, and Sumi popped from the group to dart to Izuku’s side, “It’s so good to see you! Where have ya been, fucker? Holy shit, you’re huge!”

It was a group of fumbling, laughing and crowing as they absorbed Katsuki into their ranks like he’d never returned to Japan in the first place.

Izuku stood with Cynthia and Katsumi, watching his husband interact with people in a way he never had before. Katsuki’s smile was wide and unrestricted as he wrapped one of the guys in a choke hold and rubbed his knuckles roughly over the man’s crown. As he playfully pushed at the shoulder of a small wolf-eyed woman with sharp canines, large triangle ears and grey bottlebrush tail. As a pair of twins with cotton candy pink hair and thin delicate claws pressed their ears to his belly to listen.

There was an instinctual need to ward off every person standing too close to Katsuki, especially the alphas he could smell in the air, but knew exactly how well that would go over. That didn’t stop him from pumping out pheromones enough to make others attending the stroll pass him wary glances before skirting as far around him as they could. Beneath his hand, Sumi giggled and reached up to grab his arm tightly.

“Calm down, tough guy,” Cynthia told him, hand on his arm as she pushed cinnamon dreads back over her shoulder, “You’re suffocating the crowd. They’re not a danger to your mate or pup.”

Izuku groaned, turning to meet her brown eyes. “I know that logically, but that doesn’t make me want to rip off their hands any less.”

‘ Protect mate. Protect pup. Mate close to birth. Vulnerable. Must protect. Run off threats. Protect .’ The litany of Izuku’s alpha was only interrupted when the group of Katsuki’s ex-coworkers started glancing around.

“Speaking of which, where is baby daddy? You brought him, right? Of course you did. No alpha worth his salt would let a mate as pregnant as you out of their sight. We haven’t met him yet! Let us meet the person who can handle you!” a burly man shouted to a crowing of assents from the rest of the group, “Come on, Kat, where are you hiding him?”

“My mate and husband , you absolute dickhole, is right over there,” Katsuki spat, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “Can’t you smell him? Or are you as nose blind as you are stpuid?”

The group followed Katsuki’s motion, eyes landing squarely on Izuku. Immediately, his alpha went on high alert while his face flooded with heat at the attention. Their eyes stared at him for several long moments. Eventually, it was the woman with wolf eyes that spoke up first. “Honestly, Kat, I saw the news, but I thought it was a publicity stunt. I didn’t think you had your claws in Japan’s No.1 Hero Deku. Like what is that? Sumi, how could you keep this from us!”

“I didn’t! You just didn’t believe me!” Sumi shouted back, hands still wrapped around Izuku’s forearm as she bodily dragged him towards the group.

“Hey, assholes! He’s been mine since we were kids! And we switch between the top two spots all the time! Hey!” Katsuki’s teeth snapped viciously, a snarl splitting the excited atmosphere as he knocked aside someone’s hand who’d been reaching for Izuku. “Hands off. This is a no touch exhibition, fucking got it?”

“Ah, Kat, you’re too much like a territorial alpha,” the burly man said, setting a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder.

This time, Izuku didn’t stop himself. He slotted himself between the man and Katsuki, and very deliberately picked his hand off Katsuki’s shoulder to give it back to him. “Like Kacchan said, this is a no touch exhibition.” He gave the group his widest and most lethal smile that put his sharp canines in full view. “Please stop touching my mate. I’ve been very patient up until now.”

The heroes roared with laughter, unaffected by either Izuku’s or Katsuki’s displays. The conversation devolved from there. Introductions were properly made. Chatter shot from one side of the circle to another. Santa hats were shoved onto Izuku’s and Katsuki’s heads from the good-natured group. Eventually, Shonetta dispersed the group to continue with their jobs. Sumi took off with the twins as they promised her cookies if she danced with them. Shonetta and Cynthia pulled back, and then it was just Katsuki and Izuku holding hands as they wove slowly through the crowds.

At the end of the street where the professional band was playing a slow sweet Christmas song, Katsuki allowed Izuku to pull him into a crowd of couples of every age and orientation. He wrapped Katsuki up in his arms and swayed them gently to the beat. The twins turned passed them, Sumi held on their feet, and Izuku smiled.

When he pressed a lingering Katsuki’s temple, he muttered, “You’re being gross. Stop.” Despite his words, he leaned into the gentle touch.

“I’m happy. I like it here. I like the whole celebrating together and the lights and how happy everyone else is too.”

“It’s one of the more enjoyable things to look forward to here,” Katsuki agreed.

Giggles rose from around them, and for a moment, Izuku thought it was because they were so tightly bound up in each other that they hadn’t realized the song had changed. Only, the song was still the same slow beat. They pulled apart enough for Katsuki to give the surrounding couples a dirty glare.

They weren’t looking at them particularly, but at their feet.

Sumi swooped in, eyes worried as she whispered, “Papa, did you have an accident?”

“What? No, I didn’t have an accident. I’m twenty-”

“It’s just… your legs are all wet and there’s a puddle under you,” she interrupted.

Katsuki and Izuku reeled away from each other, staring down between their bodies at the puddle beneath their feet. Izuku couldn’t understand how Katsuki hadn’t felt the wet, but he also couldn’t understand how there could be so much liquid and it not smell like urine.

Color drained from Katsuki’s face. “Katsumi, go get Cynthia and ask Shonetta to run to start the car,” he said slowly and deliberately.

“Why? Are you hurt?”

Was he hurt? Izuku was as lost as Sumi seemed to be, but Katsuki didn’t seem lost at all.

“No. Just tell them my water broke, okay, little monster?”

‘ My water broke .’ Izuku was suddenly far less lost, and both fear and excitement thrilled through him at the same time.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Katsuki seemed to struggle to smile. “I sure am, little monster. Just go tell your godmothers that okay. Tell them to be quick.” His fingers tightened exponentially on Izuku’s forearms, and as soon as Sumi darted away, he spat, “You just had to open your fucking mouth, didn’t you, Deku?” Unbidden tears spilled passed his lashes. “I fucking told you I hadn’t finished yet. Now, he’s coming and-”

Izuku cupped Katsuki’s cheeks in his hands, quickly wiping away the tears. “It’s okay, Kacchan. He’s a little early, but it’ll be okay. It’s not ideal, but we’ve got Cynthia and Shonetta, and everything went well when you had Katsumi here. It’ll be alright.”

“I know that,” Katsuki grit out, eyes squeezed shut, “But so many things can go wrong with a preemie. I just want him to come out healthy and happy. What if-”

Izuku tapped Katsuki’s cheek lightly. “Hey, none of that now. No ‘what ifs’. Taiyo is going to be just fine, alright, but we’ve got to get him here first.”

After another few seconds of just breathing and couples staring at them in concern, Katsuki opened his eyes. He was back to himself, the same hero who had faced down more villains than a lot of heroes could even boast about. With steel in his eyes, he muttered, “Get ready. I’m going to end up breaking your fingers tonight. I broke Best Jeanist’s last time.”

Izuku laughed, and then Cynthia was at their sides.

…..

Taiyo came into the world in the early hours of Christmas morning, and was almost immediately whisked away to the preemie ICU. They hadn’t even allowed Katsuki or Izuku to scent him before.

Now, with Katsuki fitfully sleeping under the sedative they’d had to administer to make sure he wouldn’t come after them, Izuku sat in silence. At first, he’d busied himself with making the phone calls he needed to. One to Inko, to Mitsuki and Masaru, to their agencies to inform them of what had happened so they would know that not only would they miss their flight, but also they’d be immediately beginning maternity/paternity leave. The last calls he made were to Ochako and Kirishima.

Hearing their voices, so cheerful and encouraging, made tears slip down his cheeks and words difficult as he explained to them the situation so far.

They both said the same thing. “Don’t worry, Deku, everything is going to be fine. Taiyo is going to be fine.”

He wasn’t so sure the longer he sat there without a baby in his arms. He didn’t even have Sumi there to hold, Shonetta and Cynthia taking her home and telling him to call when he finally had word on Taiyo. So, he sat and fidgeted and stressed and cried at the side of Katsuki’s bed. Eventually, he just crawled in next to him and snuggled close.

What felt like hours later, Katsuki began mumbling and shifting, eyelashes fluttering as the sedatives wore off. “Zuku. Zuku. Izuku,” he panted, eyes struggling to open, “Alpha- where’s my pup?” His fingers curled around Izuku’s already bruised digits again, grip slowly growing stronger as he came out of the drug induced stupor. “Where’s my pup? Alpha!”

Izuku sat up in the bed, quickly reaching to incline the head so Katsuki wouldn’t have to move. After jabbing his thumb into the call button, he settled back against the bed and ran shaky fingers through Katsuki’s sweat sticky spikes. “D-don’t worry. They’re just making sure he’s healthy. I’m sure they’re almost done.”

“I want my baby,” Katsuki whispered weakly, turning his nose into Izuku’s neck. He breathed out shakily, grip calming if only marginally.

“Me too. I called the nurse. I’m sure she has an update.”

When the nurse pushed opened the door, tugging a bassinet in behind her with the doctor in on the other side, it was deathly silent. There was no smile on either of their faces, and Izuku’s stomach dropped at the silence.

He could smell Taiyo. Spearmint and brown sugar. There wasn’t anything off about it, but the expressions on the doctor and nurse’s faces told a different story.

‘ Pup. Scent. Hold. Protect. Need to scent. Pup. ’ Izuku swallowed against his alpha’s rising aggravation.

“I want my baby,” Katsuki said immediately, struggling to push himself up straighter and reaching out his arms towards the bassinet, “Now.”

“Mr. Dynamight, we need to discuss something first-” the doctor started, but Katsuki wasn’t going to let him finish.

He snarled, loud and harsh, all protective omega mother. “Give me my fucking baby before I get out of this bed and hurt someone. You didn’t even let me scent him before you took him. You didn’t let me touch him or feed him. Give me my goddamn baby.”

The nurse and doctor exchanged a glance, but after a moment, the nurse carefully lifted the abnormally silent bundle into her arms and brought him to the bedside. Hesitantly, she passed him over.

Katsuki and Izuku reached for him at the same time, bringing him in close between their two bodies. His eyes were closed, but he snuffled quietly as if he could smell them as well. There was wispy blond hair on the top of his head, and when his eyelids fluttered, there was the barest glimpse of color. Newborn baby blue eyes.

Tears tracked down Izuku’s face as he pressed a kiss to Taiyo’s forehead and then Katsuki’s temple.

“Help me get this stupid gown open,” Katsuki muttered as he shifted Taiyo closer to his chest. Taiyo made a soft barely audible sound, tiny nostrils flaring as Izuku and Katsuki got him flush against Katsuki’s chest. It only took him a moment to latch onto the offered nipple. “Why was that so much easier than with Sumi?”

The doctor cut in before they could continue on ignoring the pair. “Mr. Dynamight, Mr. Deku, please, if I could have a moment of your time. This is very important.”

“More important than me feeding my pup?” Katsuki asked, voice saccharine as he smiled up at the doctor.

The doctor swallowed, but nodded and forged forward. “I need to discuss your options with you. I know that you two are very busy pro-heroes with one child already.”

“What situation are we talking about?” Izuku asked, “You failed to mention what the problem was when you took him from us. I understand that you had to make sure he was healthy, and I appreciate the good work you’ve already done for us, but if something’s wrong, we should have been told immediately. Not hours after the fact.”

Looking chastened and rather aggrieved, the doctor nodded. “Yes, but this is a rather delicate subject. We weren’t sure how, uh…” He cleared his throat, eyes flickering toward Katsuki.

“How I would react? Is that what you were going to say?” Katsuki sneered, mouth cutting a razor sharp line. “You think anything is going to make me not want my pup, is that it? Full offense, but you don’t fucking know anything about me. So tell me what you’re so worried I’m going to react badly over.”

Swallowing again, the doctor cleared his throat. Worry and fear pierced straight through his scent when before Izuku hadn’t even been able to smell the alpha. Katsuki really was marvel. “Your baby was born with a birth defect known as spina bifeda. Do you know what that is?” Katsuki and Izuku didn’t answer, eyes now trained solely on the doctor. Clearing his throat for a second time, he gave a brief explanation before saying, “From the tests we’ve run, we have determined that it’s not a severe case. His brain seems fully functional, no sign of water.”

“But?” Katsuki snapped.

“But... it seems the mobility of his legs is non-existent. As he grows older, the condition may worsen or it may remain the same. What we know for sure at this moment is that he’ll never walk normally. There’s only so much our healers can do, but if the nervous system just didn’t develop correctly…” The doctor trailed off, looking between the two silent heroes. “He is going to need a lot of care, more than two pro-heroes may be able to give him. There are resources-”

“Shut up.” The doctor went silent with a clack of teeth, and Katsuki sighed, running a finger over Taiyo’s chubby cheek. “Not even you’re normal, baby. Sorry, but you’ll fit right in. Between the four of us, we’ve got three legs, six and a half arms, three sets of working ears and four pairs of eyes. Welcome to this dysfunctional family. Merry Christmas, you little heathen.”

Izuku was sure he’d never been more in love with Katsuki than in that moment. Laughing quietly, he asked, “I get everything else, but why six and a half arms? I’ve still got both of mine.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, not looking up from Taiyo. “Yeah, and one of them barely functions. Hence, half.”

“Okay.” Izuku pressed a kiss to Katsuki’s cheek before turning to look back at the gawking doctor and nurse. “When can we take him home? Also, when can we get on a plane? We eventually have to go back to Japan.”

They could only sputter.

…..

“Katsumi Bakugou-Midoriya, you are not taking your brother on to the jungle gym. He’s too small right now. Bring him to me.”

With a huff, Sumi turned on a heel and returned to Katsuki and Izuku where they were sitting on the park bench with Kirishima and Mina. Their little boy, a few years younger than Sumi, pouted impatiently at the swings while Sumi very carefully unstrapped Taiyo and his papoose from her front.

“I know you want to include your brother in everything, but you have to wait for him to get bigger. It’s going to be a while before he can really play with you, alright?” Katsuki explained patiently, holding Taiyo up so Izuku could remove his papoose and sat him in his lap. Taiyo waved his fists, but had yet to kick out. Just as the doctor had said, Taiyo seemed to have no control over his legs, though he could still feel pain. After returning to Japan, they’d immediately started him on neuro-therapy, but they had no illusions that he’d ever walk normally. Now, they just planned for what they could do for him instead.

Sumi leaned in to press a kiss to Taiyo’s nose, and he crinkled his crimson eyes at her before batting at her with a closed fist. She laughed, dancing back with a whirl of skirts. “I understand. I’ll play with him when we get home then.” Spinning, she tore off across the playground and tackled her friend to the woodchips.

Mina laughed, phone at eye level as she recorded the entire debacle. “Yeah, that’s your guys’ child. Poor, Dai.”

Kirishima sighed, though happily, running a hand through his ever lengthening red hair. “Honestly.” He cut eyes towards the trio as Katsuki began to bounce Taiyo on his knee, the baby babbling nonsense the entire time. Reaching over, he allowed Taiyo to grip at his fingers. “You know, a lot of people are surprised. I keep trying to explain it, but no one ever believes Chako or me.”

“Hah? About what?” Katsuki asked, glancing away from Sumi to throw Kirishima a scowl.

“You know, that you kept Taiyo.”

“Yeah, even after all this time there are people who thought you’d give him up for adoption or something for being disabled,” Mina interjected, leaning around Kirishima to get her eyes on him, “I know you’ve been staying away from the news and stuff while you’re still on leave, but some of the headlines are absolute bonkers. When they ask me about it in interviews, I tell them straight up that everyone’s being an idiot.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, eyelashes fluttering spectacularly, and Izuku sighed. “That would be kind of hypocritical of us, considering,” Izuku said, glancing at Sumi’s legs, bare metal because she’d refused to put on the synthetic skin or leggings that morning. “But that’s besides the point.”

“I mean,” Kirishima started, mouth skewing, “I don’t think they ever doubted you’d want to keep him, Deku.”

“And I’ll tell those vultures the exact same thing I told the doctor,” Katsuki interjected before Izuku had a chance to speak, “People don’t know fuck all about me.” He dropped his eyes back to the baby in his lap. “Taiyo was the best Christmas present I could have ever gotten. The only people who need to know that are the four of us. Everyone else can shove their opinions.”

Izuku felt heat press against his eyes, and he dropped his forehead against Katsuki’s shoulder as Mina laughed and said, “You’ve gotten soft in your motherhood, Kats.”

Instead of his usual response, Izuku heard Katsuki say, “Yeah, probably.”

Izuku laughed happily against his shoulder, grinning like the in-love fool he was.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #assorted ocs #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!izuku #omega!katsuki #disabled!katsuki #pregnant!katsuki #my writing #coming home #christmas preemie

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darks-ink · 4 years

Text

Self-Perception

A ghost's appearance is based on their self-image. How they see themselves. So when you've been told your entire life that ghosts are monsters, well... That does things to one's appearance, that's for sure.

Prompt: I think it would be interesting to see Danny’s phantom form either more monstrous from the get go, or become monstrous in some way, and people's reactions to that Prompt by: @sylph-feather Word count: 5,392

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

Danny was hu— no… Yes! He’s— Or maybe he just…

His heart was still in his chest, replaced by an alien whirring. His body glowed, a white aura surrounding him, flickering wildly.

Danny was…

His reflection stared at him with wide unblinking eyes. Vivid green. Unnatural green, the color of ectoplasm spilled on the kitchen table.

Danny couldn’t be a ghost. He was human. He couldn’t be dead, couldn’t be a ghost.

His breath caught in his throat. He felt like he was choking.

Ghosts didn’t choke. Ghosts didn’t breathe. He wasn’t a ghost.

Danny closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the mirror. The surface was pleasantly cool.

Just… breathe, Danny. It will all be okay when you open your eyes.

He opened his eyes.

His own face looked back at him, although the eyes were still vibrant green, his hair still white. It was still, undeniably, his own.

But he could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Felt his lungs greedily suck in air as he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating.

“This is fine,” he told the off-colored reflection in the mirror. “I’m not dead. I’m— I’m human.”

Something stirred in his core. Light flashed, suddenly, washing the entire room away with brightness.

When Danny finally blinked the spots out of his sight again, he saw—

Black hair. Blue eyes.

“Human,” he whispered, watching his lips curl into a hesitant smile. “See? I knew it.”

He nodded to himself. It was just— just something weird! That kinda stuff happened all the time in FentonWorks. Nothing to be concerned about!

Danny ran a hand through his hair, watching the heavy locks muss up in the mirror. No matter what, he was human. This was just…

Nothing. It was nothing.

He turned to leave the bathroom, smiling at Sam and Tucker when they saw him.

He was perfectly human.

---

Ghosts were an inevitability if you were raised as a Fenton. Whether you personally believed in them or not didn’t matter. They were a fact of life. It was impossible to not know anything about them.

One of the many things Danny had learned, forgotten, and learned again, was what ghosts looked like. They were monsters. You could tell, his parents always told him, because they looked like monsters. Because a ghost’s appearance reflected the way they saw themselves.

A ghost’s self-image was literal, really.

Danny stared down at the hands in his lap. They were pink, and fleshy, and warm. Detailed to an extent that he couldn’t imagine.

Human.

In a flash of light, it could all be gone. Or, not gone, but hidden. Covered up by skintight white gloves.

It wasn’t voluntary, not really, but he could control it a little. Could stop himself from shifting around his parents, around Jazz. And thank goodness, because he hadn’t… hadn’t really figured out if he wanted them to know.

They—he, and Sam and Tucker—had thought it was temporary. But it had been more than a week, and the cold-hot-cold in his chest still hadn’t gone away. No, it felt stronger by the day. More present, if hidden behind the sound of his heartbeat.

Not quite as human anymore. But human enough. He was… a little ghostly, maybe, but human first and foremost.

He let the cold in his chest wash over him. Walked over to the full-body mirror he had in his room.

A ghost looked back. But not— not a proper one. Because Danny wasn’t really a ghost, no matter what. He was mostly human.

And so was the ghost that looked at him.

It looked like Danny, really. The messed up hair, even if it was white instead of black, pressed down by gravity. The bright eyes, even if they were a little too bright, an unnatural glow emitting from them. And, y’know. Vivid green.

The jumpsuit was just like his parents’, but at least it was deep black instead of eye-searing orange. With the white gloves, boots, and belt, it almost looked… well, not decent, but okay. Kinda superhero-y, he supposed.

Not that there was anything superhero-esque about dying in your parents’ basement, but…

No! No thinking about that! He wasn’t—

Wasn’t dead.

A flicker of light drew his eye back to the mirror. To the undoubtedly human ghost. Its glow had brightened, but settled down, now. Almost like… an expression of emotion? Odd. According to his parents, ghosts didn’t feel emotions.

But then, he wasn’t really a ghost, was he?

He let the cold withdraw into his chest. Watched his hair turn black and his eyes blue. Watched his jumpsuit make way for normal clothes.

Nothing else changed. Because, even as a ghost, he was still human.

He was human.

---

“Are you sure that keeping this a secret is a good idea, Danny?”

Sam perched on the edge of his bed, and Danny dropped his eyes from the Thermos in his hand to her. “Weren’t you against telling my parents?”

“Yeah, but…” She shrugged, throwing a look at Tucker. “It could be dangerous.”

“Telling them could be dangerous as well,” he pointed out, pointedly shaking the Thermos. “I don’t know if my parents could’ve stopped the Lunch Lady without me. And…” And he might end up in a Thermos as well.

She sighed, then nodded. “As long as you’re sure, Danny.”

“Well, I thought it was pretty cool!” Tucker leaned back against Danny’s desk, grinning at him. “You were like a hero! A half-ghost hero!”

“Half-ghost?” Danny echoed, dubiously. Tasted the word in his mouth. It was… It almost resounded in the ball of energy in his chest. Like it had a physical feel to it, except not physical.

Tucker nodded energetically. “Yeah! You’re not a ghost, but you’re not fully human either. So a split between the two— half ghost, and half human. Half-ghost!”

“I don’t know, Tuck.” Danny let his arm fall down, ignoring the way his… the thing in his chest itched, churned, purred, at the concept. “I think that you might be overplaying it a little. Half ghost?”

“Hm. Maybe not, then.” Tucker clicked his tongue. “Just a human with ghost powers, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, toying with the Thermos in his hand. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Because he was human, first and foremost.

“So…” Tucker started again, slowly. “If you’re gonna be doing that sort of thing more often, you should probably come up with a name to use for your alter ego.”

Danny huffed out a laugh. “You’re just using me as a dumping ground for all your superhero fantasies.”

“Guilty as charged!” Tucker chuckled, and Sam did, too.

“He’s right, though,” Sam admitted, prodding Danny a little. “What if someone sees you as a ghost, and asks who you are? Knowing you, you’ll just panic and blurt out your actual name.”

“Ugh.” Danny pressed himself deeper into his bed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll think about it.”

---

Phantom was the name he ended up settling on. Phantom was… just a ghost. That was the one thing he had going for him. Phantom was just a ghost, a ghostly form of Danny.

And it was Phantom who took down the attacking ghosts. The mindless feral animals, bad caricatures of real creatures.

The occasional intelligent ghost, too. Like the hulking metal Skulker, who was weak and pathetic on closer inspection. Like Sidney Poindexter, who looked like a regular human being except in monochrome. Like Desiree and Ember and many, many others.

It was Phantom who became known as Amity Park’s protector. The one ghost they could rely on to fight off the others.

Danny was human, but Phantom was a ghost. Even if they were the same person, no one but Sam and Tucker knew this.

Phantom was a ghost. Danny was too, at least a little, no matter how much he’d tried to deny it.

But that was okay. They were two sides of the same coin. Danny was the human side, and Phantom was the ghost side.

And because Phantom was a ghost, because Danny saw him as a ghost, he looked like one, too.

The changes weren’t sudden, of course, not spontaneous. They crept in, slowly. He hadn’t realized he was changing Phantom, not until he overheard his parents talking about it.

About how Phantom was becoming more monstrous, a clear display of his inner nature.

Danny… stopped. Almost dropped his bag onto the floor.

Then promptly rushed up, to his room, and locked the door. Tugged on his core, like he’d done so many times, and shifted into Phantom.

A ghost met his eyes.

Its glow was strong, flickering like a candle, in sync with his racing heartbeat. Bright green eyes, like the eyes of a jack-o-lantern, met his gaze. They were the color of ectoplasm. Only the color of ectoplasm. Green from end to end.

He grimaced, and jerked as his reflection did the same. Fangs. Large, sharp, pointed.

Danny carefully ran his tongue over the offending tooth. Yeah, definitely sharp, yikes. And since when was his tongue as Phantom green?

He lifted a hand with the intention to pull his lips up, to look at the rest of his teeth. But his eye caught on his fingers—or, more accurately, the ends of his fingers. The white gloves no longer ended at his fingertips. No, instead they continued into hooked claws that extended from the tips of his fingers.

Carefully, he grabbed one of the claws between the fingers of another hand. Definitely hard, and, ouch, definitely sharp as well.

Looking back at the mirror, Danny met his blank gaze again. One of his ears flicked like an animals, and only now did Danny realize that they were misshapen as well. Overlong and pointed. He grimaced, and watched the ears drop as well. Great! Just what he needed! Ears that responded to his emotional state!

Aggravated, he ran his hands through his hair. Felt the claws scratch along the skin of his head, not once catching on the tangles of his hair.

“Fuck,” he told his reflection, and it hissed back. He scratched his cheek, careful not to claw himself. “I should’ve— Man, I guess I should’ve fucking expected this.”

And that was the worst thing about this, wasn’t it? Because he really should’ve expected this. He’d known for how long that a ghost’s appearance was based on their self-perception?

Phantom had looked human because that’s what Danny was. And Phantom was Danny.

But over the last few months, he had stopped being Danny. Phantom had become, well, Phantom. The ghostly protector of Amity Park.

Danny rolled his neck, flexed his fingers. Tried to flick his ear, but failed. Tried snarling at his reflection.

This was certainly a ghost, yes, but not much of a protector. Maybe he’d been more stuck on his parents’ tales of ghosts than he thought. Ghosts were monsters, he’d always been told, but… but were they really?

The Dairy King hadn’t been. Cujo hadn’t meant ill, either. Sidney had been hurt, and Johnny and Kitty had just wanted some fun, and Wulf hadn’t even done anything wrong!

He shook his head, watched the locks linger in the air for just a touch too long to be natural. Well… So be it. He was a ghost, he was allowed to be a bit ghostly. It would make it harder for people to connect Phantom with Danny, wouldn’t it?

Phantom was a ghost, but he was no monster. That would have to be enough.

If Sam and Tucker hadn’t noticed yet… Well, it couldn’t be all that important, could it? He could hold off on telling them about all this until they asked.

Danny turned away from the mirror again, shifting back to his human form.

And if his skin seemed just a little pinker, just a little healthier, after shifting… Well, that just a trick of the mind, wasn’t it?

---

Phantom was a monster.

It was all Danny could think of. The sight of Phantom, massive and entirely ghost, surrounded by flames. Surrounded by destruction the ghost had caused.

Phantom was a monster, and Danny’s humanity was the only thing holding it back. Because Phantom was him. Because, as long as he was still him, Phantom was human enough.

Danny let his transformation wash over him, not looking at himself in the mirror. Not yet.

Instead he started peeling off his gloves. Carefully unbuckled his boots. Dropped the belt. Unzipped his jumpsuit until it hung slack around his hips.

Only then did he look at himself in the mirror.

Empty green eyes, emotion almost impossible to read. White hair. Long pointed ears that drooped downwards, upset. A scowl on his face, lips curled far enough to reveal the fangs underneath.

A massive injury—scar—something scrawled over his chest, his arm, his side. It was, somehow, simultaneously dulled and healed, and vivid green like a fresh injury.

He flexed his left hand, a mess of green scars and blackened flesh, only broken up by the white claws. Twisted his arm to see the injury branch its way up his arm, jagged and spiked like lightning. It lessened the closer to his body it got, before leading into the massive scar on his chest.

It looked so fresh, so brand new, that Danny could feel the phantom pains emanate from it. Could feel— lightning, cold-hot-cold-hot, like every nerve was on fire and frozen solid.

At its very center, the injury was slick, shimmering almost like liquid. Green like freshly spilled ectoplasm. So soft, so transparent, that Danny could see the glow of his core through it.

Other branches from the lightning-like scar sprawled down over his side, over his shoulders onto his back, and even onto his neck. Danny made a face as he inspected that branch, which stopped just low enough for his jumpsuit to cover it.

At least the more scar-like parts of it faded away against his skin. The injuries were dull green, yes, but his skin had definitely changed tone. No longer was it pink and warm, but it wasn’t… wasn’t teal like Dan’s, either. Just… pale, and cool.

Danny watched his reflection, holding still. Watched his core pulse in his chest, and realized…

Realized that he couldn’t feel his heart pounding. His reflection didn’t blink— Danny didn’t blink.

His breath caught in his chest, and he held it. Held it almost indefinitely.

Phantom was a monster, only held back by Danny’s humanity, and… and he was losing it. Losing said humanity.

A knock on the door. Danny startled, flinching so hard that he lifted off of the ground. He had—

He hadn’t locked the door, apparently, because it swung open.

“Danny?” Sam asked, blinking wide eyes at him. “Wow, uh, you’re… shirtless.”

“Oh my god,” he whispered, dropping limply onto the ground. His core churned so loudly he was sure Sam could hear it. “You scared me to death.”

“I think it was too late for that already, dude.” Tucker shoved Sam further into the room, also coming in. “Wow, what’s up with those scars? And, uh…”

Tucker trailed off, then fell silent.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, voice muffled by the floor. “That.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, wandering closer. She paused. “This is… This looks like it was caused by the accident…”

Danny hummed wordlessly.

“But you didn’t have these scars before,” Tucker pointed out, also walking up to Danny. “And your skin… Danny, what’s happening?”

He laughed. It wasn’t a good kind of laughter. “Don’t you know that a ghost’s appearance is based on self-perception? So if you think that all ghosts are monsters…”

“Dan,” Sam gasped. “But you don’t look like…”

“It’s been happening for longer.” Danny braced himself on an arm, pushing himself up slightly to look at her. To meet her eyes. “Slowly but surely. Ever since I started seeing Phantom as a ghost…”

“Wow.” Tucker flicked Danny’s ear, laughing when it twitched in response. “Dude, how did we not notice this? I mean, I know you do a lot of solo patrols, but…”

He shrugged slightly. “I didn’t want to mention it, not until either of you said anything about it. It’s… not a big deal.”

“You’re literally seeing yourself as a monster to the extent where you’re starting to look like one, too,” Sam pointed out and, ouch. No need to be so vicious about it. “Danny, that’s a huge deal.”

“Nah,” he denied, shaking his head. His hair fluttered freely, the locks continuing to shift unnaturally. His claws dug into the floor as his fingers twitched. “It’s… fine. Just part of being a ghost.”

“Yeah, but most ghosts aren’t told 24/7 that all ghosts are monsters.” Sam crouched next to him, one hand cautiously batting a lock of floating hair. “Danny, you don’t have to pretend that this isn’t upsetting you.”

He sighed, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His feet were unscarred but off-colored, the nails just a little too pointed. Why had he even taken off his boots if he wasn’t planning on taking his pants off?

“It’s just… It wasn’t all that big of a deal, before. If Phantom was a little more ghostly than before, well… that was right, wasn’t it? Phantom was supposed to be a ghost.” He shrugged. “And it would make him more different from me. From human me. But then…”

“But then Dan happened,” Tucker finished, sitting down next to him. He was a comforting warmth against Danny’s side. “And now it’s all messed up.”

“Yeah,” he agreed gustily. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. I didn’t mind Phantom being a ghost, but now… now I know that all that’s holding him back is my humanity.”

Sam continued to play with his hair, flicking locks of his hair until they all floated freely. “It’s not all on you, Danny. That wasn’t just Phantom, was it? It was Plasmius too.”

“But Phantom was the one who ripped Plasmius out, who fused with him.”

“According to Vlad.” Tucker nudged him. “According to Vlad, that’s what happened. No offense, dude, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and that’s not very far. How can you be sure that he told you the truth?”

“I…” He swallowed. His throat felt dry and constricted all of a sudden. He was glad that he didn’t need to breathe as a ghost anymore. “I guess I can’t know.”

“So stop worrying about it.” Sam crowded up next to him as well, warm against his other side. “You’re Danny Fenton, and you’re Phantom. Half human, and half ghost. Protector of Amity Park.”

“But what if—”

“If you ever go too far,” Tucker interrupted. “If you ever become too much of a ghost, we’ll be there. We’re a team, Danny. We’re your friends.”

His core hiccuped in his chest, the light visible through his chest. “I—”

“If that’s not an agreement I don’t want to hear it,” Sam said, sharply, but not unkindly. “Seriously, Danny. You’re allowed to not be okay, and you’re allowed to accept help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Yeah, I…” He looked up at the mirror. A ghost looked back, bright and lively green eyes and white hair which flickered like a flame, a vivid scar running over its arm and chest. On either side were humans crowded against it, their skin tones so warm compared to the ghost’s.

“I’m a ghost,” he said, slowly but resolutely. “And… that’s okay. Ghosts aren’t… aren’t inherently bad. And if Dora isn’t automatically bad, and Cujo, and all those others… neither am I.”

He grinned, and his reflection grinned back. Sharp fangs and all.

“There you go, dude!” Tucker smiled as well, nudging him again. “Now self-percept yourself some muscles because this is just sad, Danny.”

“Wow!” He gasped dramatically, planting his right hand against his chest, fingers splayed wide enough to curve the claws away from the injury. “At least I’m actually physically active!”

Tucker clicked his tongue, shook his head. “Now that’s just hurtful, man.”

“You started it, Tuck,” Sam pointed out, reached past Danny to swat at Tucker. “Now, Danny, any other serious things we need to know about?”

He opened his mouth to tell her no, but paused. Listened to the quiet whirring in his chest.

“Actually…” He licked his lips, a quick flash of green. “I guess I kind of… might also influence my bodily functions with my self-image?”

She stared at him, incredulous.

“Are you telling me that you’ve barely been blinking because you’re too ghostly to do that?” Tucker demanded from Danny’s other side. “Dude!”

“My heart also kind of stopped beating?” Danny grinned, awkwardly. “And I don’t think I’ve been breathing, either.”

Tucker laughed, startled, then pressed his head against Danny’s shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

“I blame my parents.” Danny shrugged his free shoulder. “They’ve been going on and on about Phantom’s changing appearance, and, y’know, the workings of ghosts. They don’t have any organs, or bodily functions or anything, so I guess I just… automatically stopped with all that, too.”

“Well, I guess that that’s fair.” Sam made a thoughtful noise. “That’s not gonna carry over to your human form, will it?”

“Uh…” He blinked, frowned. “I mean, maybe? It hasn’t before, but I’ve also been trying very hard to keep human and ghost separate, so…”

“That can’t be good for you.” She pressed closer against him, too. “Danny, you’re allowed to be half-ghost, you know? You’re not entirely human, and not entirely ghost, and that’s okay.”

He sighed, gustily, and nodded. “Yeah, I… I should stop doing that.” If he let his ghost be more human, that’d be… Phantom would be more human. He wouldn’t be—couldn’t be—Dan.

“We’ll be keeping an eye out, now, so don’t think about trying to not do it.” Tucker rolled his head around so he could meet Danny’s eye without lifting his head. “And, dude? I’m serious, you should conjure up some more muscle for yourself.”

“Tucker.”

---

“Don’t you get it?!” Valerie ranted, her arms waving wildly as Danny picked away at his lunch. “Phantom is getting more and more monster-like in appearance! That’s a direct link to personality!”

He rolled his eyes, lifting up his sandwich to take a bite. “Valerie, my parents are talking about that stuff all. The. Time. Trust me, I know.”

“But he’s…” she trailed off, falling silent. “Danny?”

Why. He had literally just taken a bite. “Hm?”

“You—” She huffed, suddenly, dropping down on the bench attached to their lunch table. She stared at him. Didn’t say a word as he slowly chewed on the bite in his mouth.

He swallowed it. “What?”

“Are you aware of the fact that your teeth are, you know.” She gestured vaguely. “Enormous fangs?”

Well, fuck. “Ha, well. Ecto-contamination, am I right?”

“Your eyes are glowing.”

“Ecto—”

“Your ears are large, pointed, and just flattened down.”

“No they didn’t!” he countered, because he knew they wouldn’t have. Maybe in his ghost form, but he tried very hard to repress that in human form!

“Ha! You didn’t deny the oversize ears even though you don’t have them!” She grinned victoriously, but the smile dropped almost instantly as she leaned over the table. Valerie’s fist closed around his shirt, dragging him closer until their faces were almost touching. “You fucking idiot.”

“What?” he blurted out. “What did I even do?”

She stared at him, incredulously. Let go of his shirt and dropped back onto her seat. “How on Earth have you kept the fact that you’re Phantom a secret for so long?”

“Well, you know.” He shrugged, vaguely. Scratched his cheek with his too-long, too-sharp nails. His heart rate had spiked, almost up to a healthy human speed. “Most people don’t think a ghost can be a human too, and definitely not the ghost hunters’ son.”

“But you’re…”

“Danny,” he finished for her, before she could come to the wrong conclusion. “I’m Danny Fenton. I’ve always been Danny Fenton. I just… had an accident. Became half-ghost.” He grinned sheepishly. “Started calling my ghost half Phantom, and then kind of accidentally shaped its appearance based on how I saw ghosts.”

“Like a monster,” Valerie realized, eyes wide. “God, Danny, that’s…”

She didn’t finish her sentence.

“Yeah,” he agreed anyway. “I know right?”

“Does anyone else know, at least?” She ran a hand through her hair, looking like all wind had gone from her sails. “Or have you been going through this all alone? I mean, your parents—”

“They definitely don’t know.” He huffed. His heart slowed down again, and he blinked, deliberately. “Sam and Tucker know. Knew from the start, they were there when it happened. Jazz knows, but she only told me recently.”

He fell silent. Valerie waited for a long moment. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

“Well. That’s some shit, Danny.”

He laughed, startled. “You don’t know the half of it!”

“You— Was that a pun?” She groaned, loud and exaggerated. “I should’ve known. No one else in this town loves puns like you and Phantom. Should’ve figured that you were one and the same.”

His core chirped, whirring up into a pleased purr. “That’s all on you, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll get you for this, Fenton,” she warned him. The grin on her face didn’t fall. Stayed joyous and hopeful and teasing. “Keep your ghostly unblinking eyes peeled, or you’ll never see it coming.”

---

Danny took a deep breath of air, deliberate and slow. He was in his ghost form, so it wasn’t exactly necessary. Hell, even in his human form breathing was of debatable importance.

Sometimes it scared him, how ghostly he had become.

He sighed out the air, dropping his eyes down. There, in front of him, laid a vast expanse of water.

Or, well. It really wasn’t all that vast. It was just a small lake in the park. But let him be dramatic sometimes, dammit!

The surface was still, reflective like a mirror. It was dark, yes, but Danny’s eyesight was crazy good these days, even in the dark.

He smiled at his reflection, waved a hand. White-gloved and tipped with fearsome claws, a smaller curve covered with jagged but clear ice. The light of the moon caught in its many reflective surfaces, shining onto his black jumpsuit, his white flickering hair, his horns.

Danny combed a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding the horns. They were growing quickly, curving blades of ice. They reminded him of Frostbite.

Actually… He bit his lip. That was probably what had caused them, wasn’t it? Frostbite and his people?

Phantom was a ghostly protector, but for most of Phantom’s existence, Danny hadn’t known what that looked like. He’d shaped his form based on… on hatred, on visions of monsters, on nightmares.

But Frostbite… Frostbite was a guardian. He and his people, they protected their domain, their artifacts. They were ghostly protectors long before Danny had been.

They had taught him about his powers, too. About their shared power over ice.

It wasn’t all that surprising, then, that Danny had automatically copied traits from them for his own ghost form. And, all things considered, claws and horns of ice weren’t the worst thing he could’ve gone with.

Hell, he could’ve gone all hairy! Or a tail! His spectral tail was enough for him, thank you very much!

He shifted until he laid flat on his belly, floating a little above the water. Gently swirled one finger through the water, breaking his makeshift mirror. Despite their appearance, his claws weren’t cold like ice; the water barely cooled, and remained unfrozen.

That, at least, had been deliberate. Danny, even in his ghost form, touched people surprisingly often. Sam, Tucker, Jazz, hell, even Valerie hung out with him in his ghost form regularly. And he grabbed onto random people all the time during ghost fights, to drag them out of the way of an attack or to free them from debris they’d gotten trapped in.

It was the one thing about his ghost form that didn’t quite match up with proper ghosts. Despite his ice powers, Danny remained warm. Not human warm, but not disturbingly cold, either.

The last thing he wanted was for someone to flinch into the danger he was trying to get them away from.

He smiled, weakly, letting just the slightest bit of cold energy leak from his finger. Ice trailed after his finger, now, forming swirling patterns on the water. Curls and twirls and elegant curves, paper thin.

Grass rustled, and Danny’s eyes snapped up to the lake’s coast. There, clear as day, were the Fentons. Both had their goggles down—had they integrated night-vision into those? They must’ve, to be out here at this time of night.

“Phantom,” Jack growled—because he was Jack, now, not Dad—raising an ecto-gun. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Danny replied, rolling his eyes. He waved his hand through the water, breaking up the ice, letting it melt away again. “Looking at my reflection, creating art, y’know?”

Maddie snorted disbelievingly. “Worried about people figuring you out, Phantom?”

“Figuring out what?” He huffed, righting his position so he floated upright. “That I have ice powers? That I’m strong, and a competent ghost hunter?”

“That you’re not human,” she sneered back. “That you’re losing that little humanity you might’ve had. That you’re finally showing your true side.”

“Oh, please.” He shook his head, flapping a dismissive hand. “I’m no less human than I was when I first appeared. But you’re clearly not going to listen to me, and I’ve got better things to do, so.”

He turned himself invisible, lifting up. Their eyes tracked him, confirming his suspicions that they had some sort of infrared in their goggles, too.

Well, no point in sticking around. He probably should’ve gone to bed instead of coming to the park, anyway.

As he left, he could hear the sound of a gun discharging. But not, like, fire a shot discharging. No, like someone had stopped charging it altogether.

Danny strained his ears towards his parents, even as he flew away. And it was just, just enough, to overhear their quiet muttering.

“He’s getting too cocky,” his mom said.

“He knows how strong he’s getting, yeah,” his dad agreed. “He’s dangerous, and he knows it.”

“And nobody realizes. They all see his continued good behavior, and no one sees the literal proof of him becoming a monster.”

Danny bit his lip, swiveling his ears away. Whatever else they were going to say, he didn’t want to hear.

He wasn’t becoming a monster.

He had been one for years.

---

Phantom was… Danny.

And Danny was…

People cheered as he dove low over the crowd. As he fired blast after blast into the chimeric animal ghost that attacked them, its heads snapping at bystanders.

Danny pushed for just a little bit more speed, his legs blending together into a spectral tail. Slammed into the ghost, dug his claws into its side, and dragged it up—up, and away from the people.

He released it, the ghost disoriented for a brief moment. Brief, but just long enough.

The blue vortex of the Thermos trapped it, warped it, caught it.

Danny capped the Thermos again, floating above the crowd of Amity Park’s citizens. Clicked the Thermos back onto his belt, his claws clicking against the metal. His tail curled, almost anxiously, as he looked over the gathered people.

And they—

They cheered for him, still. Despite everything that had changed, despite the—claws, fangs, eyes, skin, scars, horns, inhuman inhuman inHUMAN—they still celebrated him. Celebrated his victories, yelled positive reinforcement and thanks and love at him.

He felt it deep inside him, in his very core. It rumbled, powerful and loud, purring like a cat. He glowed, pleased, bright as the sun.

And Amity Park still yelled for him, still cheered for him. They called him their ghostly protector, their— their ghostly angel.

It felt like— like pure power. Coursing through his core, through his body. From his horns through his twisted scars all the way to his claws. Through his fangs and his green flesh and his inhumanly pale skin.

It was like drowning. Like drowning in positivity, in goodness, in… in love.

He was their ghostly protector, and they called him their ghostly angel. And that… That was…

Angels weren’t human. And neither was he.

And that was okay.

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #phic phight 20 #danny phantom #dp fanfic #phanfic #dp fanfiction #phanfiction #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #valerie gray #dark writes #i mean... being a ghost after growing up being told theyre monsters has gotta do something to your self-image right?

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