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#anyways yeah this snot nosed kid was after me too
ovaova · 1 year
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🧡🅑🅐🅚🅤🅖🅞🧡
🧡🅕🅐🅜🅘🅛🅨🧡
💕🅗🅔🅐🅓🅒🅐🅝🅝🅞🅝🅢
Teehee a list of head cannons for family man Bakugo, I’m sorry but I’m such a simp for dilf Bakugo <3
No minors! If you get in some trouble, that ain’t on me 🤷🏽‍♀️
And if you know me…no you don’t 🙃
May have many typos but oops🤭
Oki babes enjoy <3
✧ ╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝ ✧
• Honestly…at first, he couldn’t see himself as a father- absolutely no way
• But oops, he got you pregnant 3 times so here we are 🤷🏽‍♀️
• First child was a boy and two after are girls
• During the first diaper change with his son, he got peed on 💀 one of his fav shirts too
• You can bet you laughed your ass off, and yeah he was mad but he’ll be okay 🤭
• He loves his kids with his whole heart but during them toddler years, he would hate when they ass got sick, wanna know why?
• SNOT BUBBLES AND CRUST-
• You know when kids (specifically toddlers) would get sick and they never wipe their nose so the mucus just stays there and clumps up and gets crusty 💀 yeah he hates that shit- but who wouldn’t?
• And he LOWKEY feels bad, cause his kids would just be jumping around him happy and shi to see their balding ass daddy but he can’t help but grimace at they nose
• “Hey c’mere for a second 💀-“ he would state all calmly and shi before basically wiping off their skin with a tissue
• yeah he don’t play bout that
• DO NOT LET THIS MAN PLAN NO VACATIONS- cause he’ll over do it 💀
• For example, one year yall took the kids to Disney World- BRUH, even when packing, this man was acting like if this trip didn’t go according to schedule- it was gonna kill him 💀
• But in reality he’s just super excited to take his family on vacation. While packing in yalls bedroom he would be like this-
• “So we’re going to animal kingdom on the first day, and then (C/N) wants to go see the princesses, and we’ll need matching shirts or something, oh and can’t forget new bathing suits bc (C/N) needs a new one and then they’ll all want one so everyone is gettin one- and you wanna go to Epcot and-“
• You would say he sounds like Izuku with all this muttering
• This man literally makes y’all be at the airport like 3 hours before the actual flight 💀
• “I wanna make sure we can get situated, I don’t feel like dealing with all those extra people-“
“Okay fair, BUT THREE HOURS? 💀”
• Most def has the dad airport pose, just standing there like “🧍🏼‍♂️ “ …especially at baggage claim
• Anyways, will always spoils y’all-
• On the plane? First class. Hotel? In Disney world where the park is walking distance. Parks? Basically all of em-
• He can’t help himself, you and him are always so busy with being heroes and parents so he can’t help but spoil the hell out of y’all even though he knows he shouldn’t as much as he does
• Most def one of those dads to y’all instead of stopping your kids when they fight
• Like when you’re at work or something, he’ll be baby sitting talking to Kirishima on the phone or whatever from the couch- and then he’ll hear scuffling loud noises coming from somewhere in yalls house
• “Yeah man and it was crazy, I think we should all get together and go one day-“
“Yeah hold up shitty hair, give me a minute- HEY, YALL BETTER NOT BE MESSING UP THIS DAMN HOUSE……………yeah definitely, we should get together,”
While Kirishima is still lon the line like 🧍🏼‍♂️
• Or like whenever they fight when your both cuddling at home and you’ll be looking at him, expecting him to stop them but he’ll just be like 🤨???
• “It builds character…that’s how I was raised and look I’m fine…“
😟 FINE WHERE?? (Everywhere)
• okay so idk but this was a memory I had with my dad, but I was a very hard headed kid and never knew when to stop asking for shit I didn’t know nothing about- specifically alcohol 💀
• Like I would always think It was juice and my dad would always say “no it’s not and it’s nasty, you’re not gonna like it-“ but I convinced my self that him and all adults were lying just so kids wouldn’t drink their “special juice”
• But ofc I was persistent and constantly kept asking and he finally let me take a swig and yeah I learned my lesson 💀
• But yeah I can see him possibly doin that 💀 it would be like-
“I want Juice-!”
“It’s not juice, it’s nasty, you won’t like it..”
“Yes it is, I want some of that Juice!!”
“It’s not juice-!”
“JUICE-“
“FINE- here DAMN, go ahead-“
*sips*
“EUGH-“
“YEAH- told you you wouldn’t like it. Now do you want more juice?”
“NO-“
“Yeah that’s what I thought…okay now go get some actual juice- I don’t want your mama on my case..“
• One of his fav things is to cook for his family, like if it was up to him, he would most def take on cooking every night but you won’t let him cause you don’t want him burnt out <3
• His middle daughter specifically loves to help him cook tho when she can, she’s most def his lil sous chef
• Loves to bake with him and everything, oml it’s so cute
• He tries his best to spend quality time with each of his kids, like with his son, going out into nature, his middle daughter, cooking, and his youngest daughter, designing things and dressing him up
• But whenever he spends time, that goes for you too
• Like any personal time he can get with you, he’ll take it
• like as soon as the kids go over to his parents for the weekend, oh yeah he’s all over you
• Grinding on you, eating you out like a starved man, letting you ride him whenever he gets a chance (yeah he’s trying to get all he can out of this weekend)
• And like you can be as loud as you want 🤭
• He most def walks around shirtless when no kids around, he has a bit of a dad bod but it’s still hawt and you can still see the scratch marks on his back from your last session tee hee
• He loves these intimate moments with you. They’re more of a need, but sometimes he puts too much into it 🤭
• And oops, there goes baby #4 🧍🏽‍♀️
• Welp that’s my take on Family Man Bakugo 🤷🏽‍♀️
⬇️Song of the day ⬇️
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paperstorm · 7 months
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Carlos definitely told TK to hop on and TK hold on like a baby koala and Carlos carried him to bed and sat against the headboard with TK wrapped around him with his face buried in Carlos’ neck and just breathing each other and letting their scent mingle after that I believe Carlos helped TK bathe just like he said and they fell asleep holding hand with their foreheads touching
"I'm getting snot on your shirt," TK mumbles.
"It needed to be washed anyway," Carlos replies. He rubs TK's back slowly, palm sliding methodically up and down over the soft cotton of his hoodie.
TK sniffs, and Carlos tightens his arms around him. He's scared, too. It's an atomic bomb of bad news, and he's had far less time to process it than TK has. The idea of losing him has always terrified Carlos, no matter how it might happen, but this way seems particularly awful. Carlos isn't going to lie to TK and say he isn't scared. But they will tackle it together, like they'll tackle everything for the rest of their lives. Of that, Carlos is sure.
"I love you so much," he whispers.
TK makes a soft, hurt noise and buries his face more completely into Carlos's neck, tears leaving his skin damp.
"I love you, too," TK whispers back. "I didn't mean it. What I said before. Please don't leave me."
"Never," Carlos promises him. "Never ever, baby. You're mine."
TK nods.
Carlos kisses his cheek, leaning out of the hug so he can see TK's face. It's still red and swollen, streaked with tears, his eyes pink-rimmed and sad. Carlos takes his cheeks into his hands, using his thumbs to wipe some of the moisture away.
"Let's have a shower," Carlos suggests, because he can't let them sit here marinating in fear and heartbreak any longer. He's never been good at being still, he has to do something. "I'm all gross from work."
"You're not gross, you're perfect," TK argues, and for just a moment that makes him cry harder.
"Hey," Carlos murmurs to him, ducking down and not letting TK look away from him. He tracks his eyes, smiling at him when TK's gaze meets his.
"What?" TK asks.
"You are beautiful. And funny, and brave, and brilliant. You mean everything to me. Everything about you is my favorite thing. And you're all mine, okay? Forever."
TK sniffs again and nods. "Okay."
"Let's have a shower."
"You really do wanna bathe me, huh?" TK asks, finally cracking a smile through his tears.
Carlos brushes a few more tears off his cheek and then kisses his heated skin. "Yeah. I really do. You had an awful day. And then sat here for hours waiting for me. Let me take care of you."
TK nods. He stands when Carlos does, letting Carlos put an arm around his shoulders and give him a squeeze as they make their way toward the bathroom.
Carlos sits TK on the closed lid of the toilet. He starts the shower, angling the nozzle away from the door so water doesn't splash onto the tiled floor. TK blows his nose noisily, hiccupping once or twice and looking up at Carlos. He seems so small right now, the bright light of him so diminished, and Carlos likes him small sometimes, but not like this.
He unbuttons his own shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders and to the floor. When he steps closer, TK lifts his arms up like a little kid waiting to be undressed and Carlos chuckles fondly. He bends down, pushing up the hem of the maroon hoodie and getting it off over TK's head.
Carlos can't help leaning in further and pressing a kiss to TK's lips. TK hums softly into it, and stands when Carlos pulls gently at his hand. He undresses them both the rest of the way and then helps TK into the shower, taking only a moment to drink in the stunning sight of him. TK is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and despite the heaviness of this moment, Carlos is so excited to spend the rest of his life with this man.
TK holds out a hand, reaching for him, and Carlos takes it and steps into the shower after him. He moves in close, wrapping TK back up into his arms under the warm, soothing spray.
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theunholyrogue · 1 year
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so sick (various turtle x reader)
look at me writing something fluffy
hello!:3 i am currently a little sick so why not write a v short thing about the turts coming to your rescue when your icky sicky :p i experimented with the ‘various turtle’ writing format where there is no specific turtle in mind, but i don’t think i’ll do it again unless specifically requested to. it’s too broad tbh. but, i hope you enjoy it anyways!!!
Tw: description of sickness, all fluff and is sfw
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Rays of sunlight peered through the blinds of your bedroom window, shining down onto your blanket covered body. You had to be strategic in your positioning in order to avoid the light from casting over your closed eyelids, in order to gain a few more minutes of a peaceful slumber. But to no avail, a congested coughing fit soon emerged from your throat, disturbing what little rest you had had from the night before.
You had felt a subtle soreness in the back of your throat the day prior, however, you were a broke teenager in the Big Apple, and unable to waltz into a doctor’s office whenever your body felt the slightest bit off. So, in order to avoid paying a massive medical bill, you stopped by the convenience store closest to your apartment building and nabbed the last bottle of cold, cough, and congestion medicine, chugging an eighth of the bottle and going straight to bed.
However, your body decided to retaliate during the night and into the bright and early Saturday morning, leaving you with a sore throat, massive head, nose, and throat congestion, coughing fits that led to bouts of phlegm spit up, and sneezing fits that left snot running down the bottom half of your face. Your face was red and puffy, especially around the eyes and nose, along with your nostrils being inflamed and burning from the previous hours of constant wiping and blowing. You looked like a hot mess.
You groaned as you leaned over the side of your bed, spitting whatever mucus decided to escape from your lungs out into the trash bin you had tugged to your bedside, on top of the mountain of Kleenex tissues that you had accumulated. Once you felt as if you had a free moment, you pulled the blankets away from your body and stood up from the bed, making your way into the bathroom in the hallway. You did what you could to help you feel better without medicine, such as standing in a steaming hot shower and allowing the water to hit your face, changing your clothes and braiding your hair so that you didn’t feel as icky, and to top it off, your cousin, April O’Neil, wasn’t home to bother you.
You took another arrangement of medications to aid in your wellbeing before stumbling back to your bedroom, climbing back into your abandoned bed and checking your phone for the first time that day.
“Are we still on for tonight?”
Your eyes skimmed over the text that displayed on the screen from your turtle boyfriend, your eyelids drooping as you called the turtle.
“Hello?” The terrapin picked up.
Your voice cracked as you replied, “Hey. I don’t feel good.”
“No kidding, you sound like you feel bad. I guess we’ll spend time together another time?”
You nodded your head, despite the turtle on the other side of the phone being completely unaware of the action. “Yeah, maybe next weekend…” you started before breaking out into another brutal coughing fit.
“…I’ll feel better,” You finished after catching your breath. The turtle agreed and you hung up the phone.
Without realization, you had fallen asleep shortly after your call, sleeping all day and well into the night. Whenever you had woken up, you glanced outside of your window to see that it was dark and quietly thanked whomever that you didn’t have to work this weekend. Gazing around your room, you were startled to see your turtle boyfriend watching you from your desk chair.
“Gah! What are you doing?” You yelped, pulling the blankets over you in a moment of fear before coughing.
The turtle stood up and walked over to your bed, “Waiting on you to wake up so that you could eat some soup,” he responded. You eyeballed him as he walked out of the room for a few minutes, then coming back with a tray in hand.
Waiting for you to sit up into a comfortable position, he placed the tray down on your lap and allowed you to take in all that sat in front of you. A bowl full of your favorite soup, a bottle of water along with a glass of your favorite juice, and some more medicine that he figured would be appropriate, along with him just reading the bottles and applying it to your condition. Once he told you the names of the medications, you were impressed that he knew what you had been taking since this morning.
“Thank you,” you stated in a hoarse tone, picking up the spoon for the soup and taking spoonfuls of soup into your mouth.
“I hope you enjoy it, I made it by scratch.”
“It’s amazing, I’m feeling better already,” you smile, taking your time between eating the soup and drinking the water and juice. You knew that you needed it all since you hadn’t eaten or drank today, and you were so grateful for your boyfriend to do this for you. The look on his face showed you how proud he was over his cooking skills, and once you were finished, the turtle took the tray back and cleaned up after himself, then returned to the bedroom. You moved over in your bed so that your boyfriend could lay beside you, allowing you to cuddle up next to him.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here this morning for you, but I will be here for as long as you need me to be,” he stated, causing your heart to flutter.
“I am so grateful for you. Thank you,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his shell and hugging him tightly.
He returned the gesture and then moved to run his fingers through your messy, braided hair. “Get some rest, my love. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” It didn’t take much afterwards to knock you out, and he continued to stay with you until you had gotten better and could return to school.
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sangerie · 4 months
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SIGHHH but like /pos bc your vs sibs having babies post(s) have me dead 😭😭 they're so healing not only to them but also to ME. so. heres my two cents on the whole matter bc this idea popped into my head and won't leave me alone (hint: its blue rooster focused gjsgakgadasd)
i saw how you (and i think someone else?) briefly talked about how sanji and niji wouldnt really want kids out of fear of fucking them up, which is valid and probably true btw lmao, but i ALSO saw you talk about how sanji could possibly have a boy and girl under specific circumstances. and THEN i saw you say how if niji WERE to have a kid, then they'd be THE most snot-nosed brat as a form of karmic retribution. and i 100% agree.
tldr i thought about what if niji got like. well, the best way i can describe it is he got reverse law-corazoned. (hypothetically speaking he isnt a full time germa solider anymore in this circumstance btw)
anyways uh. niji meets and then continuously stumbles across this young, like 7-8 year old street (b)rat kid who lives in the town hes staying in. (who is a boy in my mind bc niji seems like SUCH a boy dad. to me. or well, not a boydad in the “nuclear family stereotypically good n supportive dad way” but also not “abusive n emotionally unavailable dad stereotype way” either. hes in the fucked up somewhere-between)
anyways anyways this kid continues to pester and harass niji everytime he comes around bc the brat finds his hair and eyebrows and basically everything about niji really really funny (and i mean hes not wrong. look at niji, hes goofy if you look past The Horrors) like you said. niji WILL be getting the biggest brat. Karma.
jfc im rambling sm TO SUMMARIZE THIS B4 I RANT MORE. someday somehow for some reason after knowing (read: being obnoxiously followed by) this kid for a few months niji offhandedly mentions being dengeki blue/a part of germa around him and the boys eyes pretty much pop out of his skull. idk i just think it'd be so fuckn cute if this homeless kid (who, yes, im picturing ran away from home due to abusive parents and now just sticks around to survive. maybe he had an abusive father specifically idk. imagine The Drama) was a HUUUGE sora warrior of the sea fan and suddenly. instead of being the worlds #1 biggest hater to niji the rooster gets a tiny little hypeman every time he steps outside his house.
dw though, hes still a brat, but instead of being a “i find you and your reactions funny so im gonna harass you until either you die or you kill me” brat hes now a “you are NEVER getting rid of me i am going to get a key mold for Your House motherfucking DENGEKI BLUE” brat.
after a few months of this niji caught himself smiling just a liiitle bit too fondly when thinking about the kid and immediately went ‘oh no oh fuck oh god oh shit’ right after bc he realized he was getting attached
tldr this all climaxes in the kid somehow getting himself into danger/a deadly situation and in a flurry of panic screams “DAD” at top of his lungs and then suddenly hes safe and out of danger and realizes its bc nijis holding him against his chest 10 feet away from the danger and glaring at the thing that originally endangered the boy with the hatred of a thousand suns in his eyes.
that is when they both take a second, look at each other, and realize “oh no. oh fuck. im too attached.”
i dont think niji would ever like OFFICIALLY adopt the boy (hes scared of giving him the vinsmoke name. what if that puts him in danger?? he already considers himself a shitty enough “”parent”” hes not doing that to his brat.) but like. yeah, thats his kid. and if anyone says otherwise hes chopping their balls off.
OKAY last thing cause this is over 700 words now (im so sorry): vs sibs family reunion/meetup and we see ichiji with his daughter who looks spoiled beyond human comprehension, yonji and the rest of his cabbage patch running around and playing, sanji either being the cook for the event OR sticking by his kids if they exist here, and reiju calling every child over one at a time to pull out a big ass gift for them out of her like 9 bags of trinkets. and then suddenly. the door is kicked open. ‘what?? oh, that's nijis voice, okay. wait, is that a kids voice too? what the fuck??’
then niji comes into view, bag full of his own trinkets under one arm and his kid (biting him) under the other, addresses the room with the most flat voice ever heard.
“This is my idiot dumbass son. I hate him. If anything bad ever happens to him I’m killing everyone in the Grand Line and then myself.”
and then aaalll hell breaks loose. the end (THIS WAS SO LONG IM SORRY IM SO SORRY USFUFAUFAIAIG)
Omg yeah!!! Niji is Such a boy dad in a sense that he doesn't want a kid but he'd say if he HAD to have a kid he'd """want a girl""" because he thinks they're easier to raise (for some reason) but then in every universe he'd get bestowed the most insufferable brat boy because god just hates him.
(Niji is both a boy dad AND a soccer mom. He has all of Sanji's bad qualities and lacks all of his very best ones...truly an amazing creature to study.)
It's so funny to imagine Niji with a child though, because by god he should not under any conditions have a child, and yet...
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The "mission" btw was to attend therapy in the countryside but instead of going to therapy he adopted a child. Because that will fix him for sure </3
(They ask him for over an hour where he Really got the kid and if he really just ""found"" him or if this is just one of the ~special~ versions of the ""truth"" he tells.)
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(Niji told him "Remember this, kid--you can bite Yonji's kids or whatever but if you even look at Ichiji's daughter funny...then I won't be able to save you.")
I wish you gave me a description of what you thought this kid looked like tho because I defaulted to making him a very Classic™ 1880s street rat shoe shiner kid (specifically you gave him the exact same backstory of Albert Ingalls from the 1970s Little House on the Prairie so he's lowkey based on him lmao;;; 😭😭😭)
Also, Niji adopting a kid old wild west style is so fitting for the brother of someone that was going to be a cowboy 💀
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olichat-reads · 3 months
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Imagine | ProHero!Bakugou x Villain!Reader #3
Summary: your sides on the field doesn't waver your loyalties to each other
a/n: i haven't posted any fics in a hot minute so i'll just.. yeah.
🌟
You don't even bother looking up when you heard your front door being unlocked, having gotten the heads up from the distinct way your bestfriend fucking stomps all throughout the hallway before he reached the door to your apartment.
"Oi. I haven't seen you in awhile."
"Mm. I've got a big mission to plan for," you mumbled distractedly, going over the newest tips your informant sent in.
Bakugou gave you a once over before walking over to nudge you aside from your laptop, save the document you were working on and promptly shutting it. "Hey-"
"Ass in the kitchen. Now," he all but demanded you, with an underlying threatening glint in his eyes. How dare he. In your own home too. You scoffed at the absolute gall of this man but begrudgingly shuffled after him anyways.
"You look like shit," He snarked as if your exhaustion was the greatest inconvenience in his life. "Stayed home the past 3 weeks and you didn't have time to look after yourself?"
"Its a big mission, Katsu," you clarified, as you slid into a seat at your little kitchen counter, resting your chin onto the palm your hand, watching your bestfriend squirrel around the kitchen with familiar ease.
"Could've asked me for help," he said, not sparing you a glance as he dug your drawers for forks. You raised an inquiring eyebrow at that.
"Its for work, Katsu."
"And?" The bastard popped a pink mochi- your last pink mochi- left on the defenseless countertop into his mouth, chewing loudly. You felt your eye twitch. How dare.
"My villain work?"
"I am aware," he deadpanned.
You couldn't help but huff fondly at that, taking the box of takeout he offered your direction. You smiled at the sight of your favourite order. He even got you that cream cheese crossoint you loved so much even though he says the price is a crime all on its own. You'll forgive him for the mochi theft. Just this once.
"I'm planning to take down some pretty big names, you know?" You started, snapping your chopsticks to mix your food idly, before raising your gaze to meet his. "Dead or alive."
Red eyes held yours.
"My statement still stands."
You stared at each other for a moment, unwavering, both unwilling to back down from where you stood. Eventually, you conceded first.
"Katsu, you're the number one pro hero in Japan. You can't get caught being associated with a villain. Much less actively help me out with the illegal stuff."
"Who said anything about getting caught? I'm not number one for no reason."
You had to huff a laugh at that. "I doubt the reason is to help a villain though, Ground Zero."
"I'm helping you, dumbass."
You blinked at that, before tilting your head, confused.
"That doesn't change anything? I am a villain." Katsuki rolled his eyes like you were the being so fucking stupid.
"Are you now?"
"Yes? Wh-" you tripped over your own words, apalled at what Bakugou was trying to say. "I am. I'm villain Red. Top 5 most wanted villains in Musutafu. Succeeded in evading three top 10 Pro Hero during the biggest heist in Musutafu in the last decade. Responsible for the serial assasination of multiple big named Pros and political figures. Do I need to go on?"
"Yeah, yeah, no need to read me your entire evil resume-"
"ExcUse mE-"
"It doesn't matter," your bestfriend said with such finality, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made your jaw clicked shut. "You're still that snot-nosed brat I promised to watch her back because her situational awareness is shit."
"First of all. We were 8, Katsu. Secondly, rude. I've gotten way better and you know it."
"You're also the same Y/n that cried herself into a panic attack because you couldn't save that kid, even when it wasn't your fault. The same Y/n who has standards even when it comes to crime and isn't afraid to make it known to the rest of the world, good and bad. You may be gray but I know for a fact your victims aren't as sporadic as you make them seem. You're not the big, bad villain you let the world see. I know that."
You had to huff out a ghost of a laugh at that. Of course the great Ground Zero saw through your facade as a feral assasin with body counts piling up faster than
"Your point?"
"I trust you." with my everything went unsaid, but you heard it all the same. Clear as the day. You couldn't help but falter, any protests or arguments ready to slip of your tongue dissolving into exasperated fondness you had for this stupid blonde in front of you.
"..Thanks, Katsu."
You knew if he ever asked for help for his side of the job, you wouldn't hesitate for a second. It was a risk you're willing to take, every time, if it meant keeping your best friend alive. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this devotion went both ways.
"Ok. Now that we all that gross mushy stuff aside," Bakugou started, making you laugh. "Who are we killing?" And there goes the moment, you sighed, rolling your eyes.
"Katsu, I swear. You need to turn down the condoning crime thing. You're making me nervous."
"Tsk. And to think you were just bragging about being the top 5 wanted villains-"
"I can still make it to top three if I kill you now, you know. So, shut it, Ground Zero," you growled, only to bristle even further at the feral grin that spread over your bestfriend's face.
"There's the big scary villain-"
"I will throw you out the fucking window don't TEMPT me-"
🌟
a/n: i have a bunch of unfinished drafts that i might just post as is and call em drabbles bc CLEARLY. they're not gonna be finished anytime soon :')
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riality-check · 1 year
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Hi!! I bought the wonderful @lazylittledragon’s Steddie dads zine last night, and in that time I’ve read it twice and loved every second of it. One of the panels (for those of you who have the zine, it’s page 42; for those of you who don’t, it’s a panel of Steve and Eddie sitting on a bed, holding each other, while Steve cries and Eddie says “I’ve got you.”) has lived rent fucking free in my brain, and it’s inspired 1k of whatever the hell this is. 
If you haven’t already bought the zine, do it now, it’s so incredibly worth it!! Anyway, bon appetit.
————————————————————————
Steve doesn’t know why he’s freaking out so much. He’s not the one literally growing a person. He’s been pretty much fine this entire time. He’s held Eddie’s hair back when the morning sickness got bad and he’s bought baby clothes and he’s read so much (even though he can’t read for shit) of those little parenting books they have at the library.
Steve has been fine this entire time. He’s pushed back all his anxiety and every other remotely negative emotion because Eddie needs him. Eddie needs all the reassurance and comfort and joy that Steve can give him regarding this kid, and Steve is more than happy to give it. He’s got a nearly infinite supply.
But right now, on this random afternoon in July, everything that Steve has been holding back so carefully is coming to the surface.
In four months or so, he’s going to be a dad. He’s going to have a little, tiny, helpless baby utterly dependent on him for everything.
And Steve knows he’s going to fuck it up.
God. Steve loves this kid so much already. He thinks about who she’s gonna look like more (he hopes it’s Eddie). He sings to her, even when Eddie laughs and tells him to stop. He wonders how much she’ll cry, what her favorite food is going to be, what her first word will be, where she’ll take her first steps. 
He’s so excited to meet her, and he’s so scared, too.
Because love doesn’t prevent people from fucking things up. Steve doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind that he is going to love this kid. But he’s worried that he’s going to make every mistake in the book.
What if he can’t get her to sleep? What if he can’t get her to eat? He doesn’t even know how to change a diaper!
What if he ends up putting his issues on to her? What if he loves her enough to make her resent him for it? 
(Wouldn’t be the first time.)
What if-
There’s a knock on the door. “Steve?”
Shit.
Steve tries to wipe his eyes and steady his voice before he answers, “Yeah.”
It doesn’t quite work.
“Can I come in? You’ve been gone a little while.”
Steve wipes his eyes some more and sucks all the snot he can back up his nose. He hopes Eddie doesn’t notice. “Sure.”
The door opens, and Eddie stands there for a minute, just looking Steve over. He looks good, he always does, even in a plain black sweatshirt and ratty old jeans.
Steve watches in real time as an expression of sympathy takes over his face.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, and yeah, that’s enough for Steve to start crying again.
He curls up and buries his face in his arms and doesn’t look up, not even when Eddie sits next to him on the bed. He puts his arms around him, just holding, and when Steve can feel Eddie’s belly pressed against his leg, he cries harder.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie says.
This is stupid. I’m not the one who should be stressed out.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Eddie asks after a minute. He rubs soothing circles on Steve’s back.
“It’s stupid,” Steve gasps out.
“If you’re crying over it, it’s not stupid,” Eddie says gently.
“It is. I’m not the one doing the work.”
Steve can feel it when Eddie laughs. The gentle shake of his whole body makes Steve stop crying for just a second.
“You’re doing work, Steve.”
“I’m not the one growing a person.”
Eddie pulls back a little and looks at Steve seriously. “Just because you don’t have the parasite doesn’t mean you’re not doing work. You’ve gone shopping and you’ve cooked and you’ve cleaned and you’ve taken care of me. Does that not count as work?”
“No.”
“If we flipped the situation, and I was doing all that, would you still think that?”
Steve hates when Eddie is right.
“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed, Steve.”
Steve sniffles. “You need me, though.”
“I do,” Eddie says. “I’m always going to need you. But you’re allowed to need me, too, okay?”
Steve nods. “Yeah, I know.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows.
“I know!” Steve insists with a wet laugh.
“Okay,” Eddie smiles, and it’s the kind of smile Steve always wants to be the reason for. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna fuck this up.”
Eddie snorts. “So am I. You’re not special.”
“No, like,” Steve struggles for the words. “I’ve never been around kids-”
“Neither have I.”
“-and I don’t even know how to do basic shit-”
“That’s why Joyce is teaching us.”
Steve gives Eddie a look. “I know you’re trying to be reassuring, but can you let me finish?”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie mimes zipping his mouth closed.
It’s stupid little things like that that make Steve wonder how he got so lucky.
“I’m worried,” Steve swallows. “I’m worried that I’m gonna fuck up this kid enough to be just like me.”
Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Steve. You are nothing like your parents.”
“I know! I know that. I have no doubt about loving this kid. I’m just afraid that - I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay not to know.”
“I’m so afraid that I’m going to be overbearing and end up suffocating her,” Steve whispers.
Eddie stares at him for a good, long moment. Finally, he says, “Are you worried about loving her too much?”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Steve mutters.
Eddie takes his face in his hands and looks him dead in the eyes. “Not stupid.”
Eddie kisses him, soft and sweet and slow, and Steve kisses him back just as soft, just as sweet, and just as slow.
“You make me feel like the luckiest man on earth every single day,” Eddie says, Steve’s face still in his hands. “This kid is so goddamn lucky to be loved by you.”
Steve can’t help it; he starts crying again. Eddie wraps his arms around him.
“I’ve got you,” he says again.
168 notes · View notes
numbknee · 1 year
Note
Enough of the suffering thru the asks abt all the other cartman ships, what abt your brain rot? 🥺 what *are* your thoughts on kyman?? Go ham dude
ooooh dear... where to begin with the kyman brainrot....... I guess I’ll start at the beginning. VERY LONG POST under the cut. this is basically my kyman meta magnum opus lmao
I’ve talked about this ad nauseam before, but I really, REALLY didn’t want to get into south park. I had only ever watched like 2 full episodes before 2021 and I simply did not understand the appeal. I just thought the draw to the show was the shock factors: gross-out humor, children swearing and committing violence, and blatant bigotry played for laughs. I didn’t understand how it could be so popular other than “well I guess there are lots of horrible people out there who like this horrible show.” 
I grew up in a very WASP-y town and had peers in elementary/middle school who learned about the existence of antisemitism and other bigotries through south park. because kids are stupid and don’t understand satire, many of them took it at face value and were able to have shittons of words added to their vocabulary to put people down and insult them. it was horrible tbh. and I hated the show for that, even as a young kid. I personally wasn’t perfect by any means but even as a snot-nosed, extremely sheltered little white girl I knew that you just shouldn’t do that shit. our school system in particular lauded the “golden rule” constantly (we had to do a school-specific pledge after the pledge of allegiance every day... yeah I know, very american) and I was like “cmon, you guys can’t even follow that ONE RULE to be a semi-decent human being?? really??”
anyway at the end of 2021, my younger brother asked me to watch the post-covid specials with him and he was very excited about it. I was immediately hesitant, especially because in recent years he has become alarmingly incel-y and took a hard turn to the right while I became a leftist. I reluctantly agreed to sit through it to try to understand him more because, even though his political ideology sucks ass, he’s still my brother and I do love him. 
so I watched the specials, and I came out the other side of it shell-shocked with how surprisingly good the writing was. THIS stupid show, the show that all this time I thought was bottom-of-the-barrel comedy, was... GOOD??? particularly regarding CARTMAN?? 
the only things I knew about cartman going into it were the following: he’s fat, he says the name “kyle” weird, and he’s a horrible antisemite. and they made him grow up to be a freaking RABBI. it completely caught me off guard and *gasp* actually made me laugh???? what???? 
there were plenty of other things I loved about the post-covid specials, like my depressed ass relating WAAAY too hard with stan, the extremely on-the-nose satire of the state of advertisement/capitalism with the stupid “denny’s applebee’s max” restaurant chain gag and all the old people being shoved into a giant prison retirement home once they aren’t productive anymore, kenny getting sick of the gang’s bullshit and writing “FUCK THESE HOES” on a beloved childhood photo, butters become a snake-oil salesman for NFTs, kyle being told to “think like a kid” and like 2 seconds later realizing they need to look up kenny’s ass. I could go on but you get the point. 
I liked it way more than I thought I ever would. and obviously, I often find south park funny for different reasons than my brother does because matt & trey are very good at toeing the line of appealing to both sides of the american political spectrum, but it’s become a point of bonding between us in the year since I started watching the show and I’m grateful for that. 
of course, since i’m terminally on tumblr and ao3, I also started to dive into the fandom of south park. I had heard about the whole creek thing years ago and waved it off as a stupid gag but then I realized wait, holy shit, there’s actually a GIGANTIC shipping culture around south park??? at first I got into style because of the interesting concept of post-covid kyle and stan reconnecting after decades apart and not being the same people they used to be but trying to make it work anyway (I even wrote a fic about it ahahaa...) 
but after a while I got tired of the ship because as I watched the rest of the show, I realized their relationship just wasn’t as interesting as I thought it would be. like they’re best friends but... why? because they’ve known each other forever? they both like video games? they make fun of cartman together? the fact they’re “super-best-friends” is kind of taken for granted by the show and the audience, but imo matt and trey never really explore the intricacies of their relationship very much. y’all can disagree with me on this but idk, all I know is that I got bored with style as a ship after like 2 months.
while scrolling through ao3 and tumblr, I ran across kyman fics/fanart for the first time back in february or so. at first I was appalled because... why the everloving fuck would you ship the blatant antisemite with the jewish kid??? really???? isn’t style a much better choice??? but sheer curiosity got the better of me, so I did what I always do when I’m curious about a ship: select for fics with kyle broflovski/eric cartman, sort by kudos, and read the first result (or in this case the second because the first had creek as the main ship). y’all know which fic that is if you’ve even slightly gotten into kyman. it was interesting, but I personally didn’t see them as the actual characters from the show in that fic. they were fandom versions of kyle and cartman, with their personalities changed enough to fit the standard mlm shipping dynamic that’s popular in fandom spaces (particularly regarding dom/sub aspects). I’ve seen it happen in plenty of other fandoms so I wasn’t surprised, but I still couldn’t see how it could possibly work if one were to use their canon character depictions. 
all the while I was making my way through episodes of the show cuz it’s long af, and over time I became more and more intrigued with kyle and cartman’s relationship. cartman quickly became my favorite character in the show because of how fucking complex and layered his personality is (see my tags on this post), and though kyle despises cartman in countless ways, he still is the only one who consistently tries to find goodness in him, tries to make him change for the better, saves him when no one else will, and remains his friend despite everything. it’s a remarkably complex dynamic.
little hints of kyman started creeping up on me: cartman being frequently queer-coded as a closeted gay kid. kyle getting extremely jealous of cartman and heidi’s relationship. both of them on separate occasions saving the other from death or injury without wanting any credit for it or lording it over each other. “we've been through a lot together, and... maybe that alone doesn't make us friends, but it makes us something” 
needless to say, I started to get it. and then I encountered the straw that broke the camel’s back: “know your enemy” by elsen on ao3. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve read that fic probably over a dozen times. it was shockingly well-written and so in-tune with the style and tone of the show that I was like “is this person spirit-channelling trey parker or something wtf???” and all of a sudden, I could see how, in a different universe, kyman could actually be an endgame ship. 
what sold me on it the most was how in-character it seemed for cartman to be a repressed, denial-ridden sub, especially regarding his desired relationship with kyle. there’s plenty of canon evidence that cartman has a secret crush on kyle (see this vid by johnny 2 cellos), but there’s no way that kyle could reciprocate those feelings, right?? imo kyle would probably rather die than enter a romantic relationship with cartman where he had to submit to him all the time, but if cartman would want kyle to be dominant over him??? where kyle has control and is able to curb cartman’s problematic behavior as he sees fit??? that opens up a whole other door of possibilities.
I think what kyle wants more than anything else in the world regarding cartman is for the goodness he sees deep down inside him to come to the surface, and for kyle to be the one to guide him (or force him when necessary) to becoming a better person through love and patience and inherent understanding of his fucked up little head??? I can definitely see kyle wanting that (especially since I see kyle as a repressed, denial-ridden sadist/dom lmao; see this post for my thoughts on that). 
it was all downhill from there. I found tons of other cool kyman shippers on tumblr and twitter whose writing and fanart helped suck me in even more and I’ve been stuck in kyman hell ever since. special shoutout to the asker for her kyman analysis posts that inspired this fic I wrote! love u boo <3
ANYWAY that’s how I became a whore for kyman lolololol ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ have a nice day everybody
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mjbunnyluv · 1 year
Text
Snow Day
#bkdk kidfic; fluff; slight hurt/comfort: Little Izuku and litt Katsuki play at the park after the first winter snowfall. When big kids ruin their fun, Katsuki steps up to play the hero.
-
“Kacchan! Kacchan! Kacchan!” Izuku squealed, wrenching his mitten clad hand from his mother’s grasp to run toward the little blonde boy all bundled up on the playground.
“Izuku, Honey, don’t run, there’s ice!” Inko shouted after, her voice warbling with worry.
“Eh, they’re kids. Let ‘em have fun,” Mitsuki waved her off. “Oi, Brat! Izuku’s here, play nice!”
Katsuki glared at his mother from atop the slide, only scarlet eyes visible between the heavy navy scarf and the hood of his orange snow suit. He grunted and threw himself down the slide, screeching as a bundle of green and white blocked the end.
“Move, Deku!” Katsuki shouted, voice muffled by the knit scarf pressed against his lips. But it was too late, the slide slicked with snow increasing his speed as he reached the bottom, colliding with the other boy and sending them toppling into the frost covered wood chips.
“Ow, Kacchan!” Izuku whined. Emerald eyes stared up at the gray skies, little flurries fluttering down from the clouds to tickle his cheeks and nose with chilly kisses. A bundle of orange and blue crossed his vision as Katsuki pushed himself up, grunting with the effort it took to bend the right way in his puffy gear.
“I told you to move, idiot!” The blonde snapped. “Who stands at the bottom of the slide anyway?”
“Sorry,” Izuku sighed, whining as he rolled over onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “I was excited to see you! It feels like it’s been forever!”
“Tch, we just played two days ago.”
“Yeah, forever ago!” the little green boy exclaimed, lifting his arms to exaggerate his point. “Do you want to play heroes?”
“Yeah, okay,” Kacchan nodded. “But I call dibs on All Might!”
“Aww, but you always get to be All Might!” 
“Yeah, well, you don’t have a quirk, so why should you get to be All Might? He’s the coolest, not some quirkless loser like you,” The blonde shoved him, forcing Izuku to land on his butt. It didn’t hurt, not with all the layers his mother dressed him in, but the words…the words hurt. 
“Don’t be mean, Kacchan,” he sniffled, the image of the fierce boy dressed in orange becoming a distorted image through his gathering tears. “I want a quirk, too.”
“Tch, crybaby,” Katsuki huffed, before stilling, eyes going wide at Mitsuki’s approach.
“Bakugou Katsuki!” she hissed, grabbing his arm and roughly pulling him off the playground. “That’s a time out.”
“Ah, I didn’t do anything! Let go, you old hag!” the boy growled, trying and failing to force her iron grip from his jacket.
Izuku sniffled and wiped his nose with his mitten, a streak of snot dragging across it. He grimaced just before his mother knelt down and held a tissue to his nose.
“That’s better,” she smiled. “Let’s dry these tears, too.”
“Mama, why don’t I have a quirk?” he asked, turning his big green eyes on her.
“We’ve talked about this, Sweetie,” she smiled sadly. “Some people just don’t develop quirks. But you’re still my special boy.”
“But being special doesn’t make me a hero,” Izuku pouted. “I want a cool quirk like Kacchan.”
“I know, Honey. I’m sorry,” his mother patted his head. “How about you play with Mama for a little bit? Looks like Katsuki is busy right now.”
Izuku spotted Katsuki sitting on the bench, arms crossed over his chest while Auntie Mitsuki berated him. “Okay Mama,” he nodded, letting her help him up again. “Can you push me on the swings? I wanna go high, up up up!”
“Okay, Mighty Man, let’s help you fly,” his mother laughed.
Izuku squealed and giggled with every push that sent him higher and higher. He swore he could see their apartment from here! The cold wind whipped at his cheeks, but the sting was numbed to the exhilarating feel of flying.
“Higher, Mama!” 
As he came back down from another weightless climb, Kacchan and Auntie Mitsuki were coming over to join them. The little boy, despite only his eyes being visible, looked embarrassed. And when the swing came to a stop, Auntie Mitsuki gave him a little push in Izuku’s direction.
“Go on, Brat,” she ordered. “Tell him.”
“Sorry, Deku,” Kacchan said barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Izuku hopped off the swing and ran to his friend, flinging his arms around the orange clad boy’s neck and squeezing. “I forgive you, Kacchan.” There was a small pat against his back as Katsuki hugged back.
“Wanna build a snow fort?” the blonde asked as they pulled away.
“Yeah!” Izuku beamed, nodding furiously, and next thing he knew, Kacchan was dragging him off the playground and into the surrounding field covered in snow.
“It’s gonna be the best tower ever!” Kacchan exclaimed. “No old ladies allowed!” He pointed accusingly at his mother.
“Watch your mouth, Brat!” Mitsuki warned as she led a snickering Inko back toward the bench.
The boys got to work pressing snow into a thick wall. It was a bit lopsided, but after some hard work, it really came together. Some bigger kids came to the playground, and Izuku stuck closer to Katsuki as they kept eyeing their fort. As they kept working on The Best Tower Ever™ Izuku made a little snowman, complete with hollowed eyes and All Might’s bunny ears.
“Look Kacchan! It’s Snow Might,” he giggled, but gasped just as one of the older kids came by and stomped on his snowman. “Heeey! You crushed All Might!”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna crush you next, Dork,” the boy laughed, shoving a fistful of snow in Izuku’s face.
“Leave him alone!” Katsuki growled, rushing to put himself between the green boy and the big kid. 
“What are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?” The kid said with a smug smile. 
“Yeeaah,” his friends backed him up, all with similar expressions of arrogance. 
Izuku shivered as the melting snow dripped down his neck, wetting the clothes under his snowsuit. “Kacchan, don’t. They’re too big!”
“Tch, they’re just a bunch of big babies,” the blonde clicked his tongue. 
“Who you calling a baby, runt?!” The big kid growled and shoved Katsuki hard, making him gasp and tumble over Izuku who was sitting on the ground. 
“No pushing!” the little green boy yelled. “That’s not nice. Kacchan, are you okay?”
But when he turned around, the little blonde boy had ripped off his navy scarf, as well as his mittens. That feral grin Izuku had come to recognize has Kacchan’s hero face graced his features while his palms sparked with little pops or bright explosions.
“Oooh, somebody thinks he’s a tough guy!” The big kid teased, earning a round of laughter from his goons. 
“Tougher than you!” Katsuki growled, resuming his place between Izuku and the bully. “It’s okay now, Deku because I am here!”
The big kids sputtered a few laughs, finding the blonde’s All Might impression stupid and silly. But the joke was on them as Kacchan used his quirk to explode the snow between them. A cloud of white expanded, blocking out the bully’s vision and with a war cry, Katsuki dove at the boy and knocked him into the cold ground.
“I’ve got you now, Villain!” Kacchan yelled, gripping the front of the boy’s coat and shoving him further into the snow. 
“Hey you little jerk!” One of the other kids pushed Katsuki and Izuku gasped as he watched his friend hit his head against the wood that bordered the playground. Kacchan let out a pained cry and the little green boy let out a growl, launching himself at the boy who pushed Kacchan. With mitten clad hands, Izuku slapped and hit, screaming loudly.
“Stop it! Hey, knock it off!”
“You hurt Kacchan! You’re mean! Just a big bully! I hate you, I hate you!” The freckled boy screeched as he continued his assault.
“Izuku!” Inko snapped, appearing suddenly. “What are you doing?!”
Izuku stopped immediately, turning around to face his mother. Kacchan was holding his face, a little bit of blood coloring his eyebrow while tears left wet trails down his cheeks. And then the freckled boy was wailing.
“Those big kids were mean to us!” Izuku cried, running to his mother and shoving his face into her stomach. “They crushed my All Might snowman and pushed Kacchan.”
Mitsuki wasn’t far behind, eyes wide as she took in her son’s bleeding face. The glare she sent in the direction of the bullies had them stiffening up, blabbering about how they didn’t do anything.
“Mommy,” Kacchan whined, lip wobbling harshly.
“Let me see, Bud,” Mitsuki sighed before crouching in front of her son. She tossed a look and a little nod over her shoulder at her friend.
“Where are your parents?” Inko demanded, green eyes fierce as she patted Izuku’s back until he was only shaking with sniffles. The bullies all snapped their mouths shut, staring wide-eyed at the woman before them. “I said,” she reiterated through grit teeth. “Where are your parents?”
One of the goons pointed to the other side of the park, arm shaking and looking to be on the verge of tears. Izuku was guided toward the Bakugous, tears beginning to freeze on his lashes and nose still sniffling.
“You stay with Auntie Mitsuki,” his mother told him. “I am going to have a talk with these boys.” She approached the kids, who cowered under her fierce gaze. “Let’s go. Start walking.”
Izuku watched them retreat until the sound of snow crunching under their boots was lost to the wind. He crouched beside Auntie Mitsuki who was pressing a handful of snow against the cut on Kacchan’s brow to clean it.
“It’s cold!” the blonde boy whined
“Quit complaining. Here, press this against the cut. We’ll put a bandaid on it when we get home,” she told Katsuki, who followed her orders and pressed the tissue against his face.
“A super cool All Might bandaid?” Kacchan asked hopefully.
Mitsuki huffed a breath that sounded like a laugh and ruffled his hair, “Of course, my little hero maniac.” 
“Are you okay, Kacchan?” Izuku whimpered.
“It’s just a little cut,” the blonde shrugged like he hadn’t just gotten a near concussion.
Mitsuki smirked at the brave face her son was putting on, rolling her eyes. “Typical,” she shorted, whispering under her breath. “Come on boys. Up, up, up.”
“Where are we going?” Izuku asked, taking her hand while Kacchan took the other.
“Back to our house for some hot cocoa. How does that sound?” Mitsuki smiled.
“I like hot cocoa,” the freckled boy grinned.
“Can I have extra marshmallows?” Katsuki asked. 
“Sure sure, whatever you want,” she laughed. “But first, I think I need to save those boys from your mom, Izuku. I’ll be right back.” The blonde woman darted across the playground toward Inko who was laying into the boys and their parents, all of which looked terrified of the tiny woman’s wrath.
“Thanks for protecting me, Kacchan,” Izuku smiled. “Your quirk is so cool. And you fought those bullies just like All Might fights bad guys.”
Katsuki sniffed and shrugged. “It’s whatever. All Might wouldn’t have just let them get away with doing mean stuff. If I’m gonna be the next number one hero I gotta be just like him.”
The freckled boy nodded in agreement before stretching up on his tiptoes to plant a kiss against Kacchan’s wind chilled cheek. “You’re my hero, Kacchan.”
Izuku giggled as Katsuki’s ears turned bright red, and it wasn’t from the cold. His mitten clad hand was gripped tightly in the blonde boy’s hold as they walked toward their approaching mothers. 
“I’m gonna be the best hero, so I’ll always protect you, Deku.” Katsuki grumbled, refusing to look his way. 
Emerald eyes sparkled up at him with admiration and a beaming smile brighter than sunlit snow stretched across Izuku’s face. “Thanks, Kacchan.”
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kiddoryder · 5 months
Text
Twin Talk
Hey guys! Sorry it’s been a while since I wrote a fanfic. Been busy with life. I actually do like Blitzo’s sister Barbie Wire. I actually hope we get to see more of her soon.
This story is about Barbie meeting my OC Liz.
So relax and enjoy the story!
Barbie - “Satan fucking damn it! Why the fuck Blitzo had to come in and ruined my fucking life?!”
After the camp site incident, Barbie now lost her supplier. When she told her boss what happened, he actually decided not to fire her. The reason? Because he didn’t wanna bother looking for another employee that can get weeks. While Barbie is grateful she didn’t get fired, she now has to deliver meds in Sloth. Which sucks because sometimes the customers are rude as hell, too lazy to remember what they order, and don’t give enough tips.
Today Barbie just had to deliver meds to the St. An hospital. Barbie has the bag of meds in her bag and was waiting impatiently for the elevator to open. The elevator ding and opened. Barbie checked the bag and it said “To Liz M. Room 345”.
Barbie - *pissed* “Can’t believe I’m fucking stuck delivery med to some snot nose little brat. She has fucking parents, why can’t they fucking give her meds?!”
The elevator ding and it left Barbie at the floor she was supposed to be at. Barbie left the elevator and was surprised how the hallway actually looked more fancier. It had golden apple design taperary, statues of Lucifer, and his logo.
Barbie - *confused* “What the fuck? Why the hell is the kid on this fancy ass floor? Is this the floor I’m suppose to be on?”
Barbie looked at the bag twice and noticed the note was a little smidge, but it clearly said: VIP. Which everybody knows it means Very Important Person. Wanting to finish the job just to get over it, Barbie just walked down the hall and saw room 345.
Barbie opened the door and saw Liz resting in a hospital bed. Looking tired and exhausted. Barbie's eyes also widen in shock because she recognizes the red cheeks and skin.
Barbie - *shocked* “Holy shit! Are you Lucifer’s kid?”
Liz - “Huh? No. Lucifer is my Uncle.”
Barbie - “Huh. Never did I think I would see royal blue blood in a dump like this.”
Liz - “Well I needed my appendix out. It was either here or let it explode into little tiny pieces. And that would have ended ugly.”
Barbie - *chuckles* “Nice to see you have some sense of humor. The name Barbie Wire.”
Liz - “Barbie Wire? Were your parents drunk when they named you that?”
Barbie - *chuckles* “Most likely my father. The guy could drink 2 or 3 bottles of booze like it was water.”
Liz - “Huh. He would have been good friends with my Dad. He always likes to drink wine.”
Barbie - “My Dad was more into cheap booze shit. He called wine “fancy pissed water that royal blue blood fuckers drinks.”
Liz - *giggled* “My name is Liz.”
Barbie - “Nice to meet you. So, where is your parents' kid?”
Liz - “My dad had to go to work, and so did my mom. But they promise to come back later.”
Barbie - *a little uncomfortable* “So…You’re all alone?”
Liz - “Well not really. I mean I’ll be okay.”
Barbie was having a strange feeling inside of her. What was it? Was it sadness? Uncomfortable? Or was it feeling bad for somebody? Either way, she didn’t want Liz to be by herself. Barbie looked at her watch and see how she actually have a lot of time for herself.
Barbie - “Ya know what? I’ll give you some company.”
Liz - “Don’t you have to go back to work?”
Barbie - “Eh. Those assholes can wait. I got lot of time.”
Liz - “Yeah. I heard the people in sloths are lazy bums.”
Barbie - *chuckles* “You're telling me. The receptionist claimed she couldn’t read or write yet she still did it anyway.”
Liz - “I guess she drank for breakfast.”
Barbie - *laughs* “That’s a good one! I like people with my kind of sense of humor.”
Liz - *laughs* “Well I am part of the Carny Rangers.”
Barbie - “Carny Rangers?”
Liz - “It’s a kid scout but it's a circus theme. You have fun, earn badges, and learn some circus trick shit.”
Barbie - “Oh I actually know some circus tricks. I actually worked at a circus once.”
Liz - “That must have been a dream come true.”
Barbie - “Yeah it wasn’t bad. I mean I did the tightrope, acrobat shit, it was actually pretty fun.”
Liz - “Yeah my twin sister and I love circus stuff.”
Barbie - *confused* “Twin sister?”
Liz - “Yeah. I have a twin sister name Sonya. She was resting in the mind house.”
Sonya came out in shadow and waved at Barbie. Barbie almost fell out of the chair she was sitting on.
Barbie - *shocked* “What the fuck is that thing?!”
Liz - *annoyed* “Heh ya deaf or blind? Or both? This is my twin sister Sonya.”
Barbie - “Why the fuck is she a shadow?!”
Liz - “We are a Gemini.”
Barbie - “A Gemi-what?”
Liz - “Gemini. It is a rare gift where two twins share the same body thanks to the Gemini star.”
Barbie - “What sort of fucking gift is that? If anything you should get rid of that shit.”
Liz - *offended* “Excuse me?”
Barbie - “Twin sibling are nothing but fucking shit-heads who fuck up your life.”
Liz - “Don’t you dare talk about my sister that way!”
Barbie - “Look, I’m only giving you advice because having a sibling, especially a twin known to screw you over.”
Liz - *angry* “Look you bitch, you know nothing about my sister so there’s no way I’m gonna get rid of her!”
Barbie - *angry* “I’m just trying to help you!”
Liz - *angry* “I don’t need your fucking help you-“
Then all of a sudden, Liz felt a pain in her stomach. Barbie looks concerned for her. Even Sonya looked worried for her sister.
Barbie - “Hey kid are you okay?”
Liz - *groans in pain* “Y-Yeah.”
Sonya knows when her sister is lying thanks to the pain on Liz’s face. Sonya gently moved Liz’s hand and saw that the stitches popped and was bleeding again.
Sonya - “Oh crap! Her stitches came out!”
Barbie saw that despite being in her shadow form, Sonya grabbed a towel and gently put it on Liz’s sides. Barbie looking worried and said:
Barbie - “Hey! We need a fucking doctor in here now!”
A minute later, a doctor came in and helped and fixed the stitches. Barbie was standing in the hallway waiting to see if Liz is okay. Then 15 minutes later, the doctor left and Barbie went back inside the room. Barbie then noticed Liz still looked tired and in pain and realized she still had Liz’s meds. Barbie took some pills out of the bottle, got a cup of water and handed it to Liz.
Barbie - “Here. You need this.”
Liz - *take a deep breath* “Thanks.”
Liz took the meds and drank some water. Barbie had that strange feeling again when she saw that Liz was alone. Barbie hated having those feelings again. She took a seat next to Liz’s bed and said:
Barbie - “Sorry kid.”
Liz - “For what? You basically saved my life right now.”
Barbie - “With the help of your sister of course. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. It's just that…I had a bad experience with a twin.``
Liz - “Wait, you have a twin sister?”
Barbie - “Actually a twin brother. Blitzo.”
Liz - *eyes widen* “Holy crap! I know him, he’s a friend of mine and my sister.”
Barbie - *scoff* “You would have been better off not knowing him. Bastard ruined my life.”
Liz - “How?”
Barbie took a deep breath and began to tell Liz everything. How the fire happened on Fizz’s birthday, the firework explosion, Fizz getting badly hurt, Blitzo and Barbie mom’s death, the circus being burnt down, etc. Liz and Sonya were actually listening and was surprised how Blitzo actually had a dark past.
Barbie - “….And just when I was getting my life together, he just had to show up and fuck my life all over again!”
Liz - “Man…Sound brutal dude. But don’t you think you were hard on him too?”
Barbie - *offended* “What?! He’s the one that screwed my life!”
Liz - “So what? You honestly thought he was like “Oh! I’m gonna start a fire and hurt everybody and kill my mom! Tra lalalala!”
Barbie - “…No. But it was still his fault! He should have saved our mother!”
Liz - “Why didn’t you save her or your dad?”
Barbie - “We tried! But we couldn’t do it…”
Liz - “So you guys couldn’t do this, but Blitzo can? Does that make sense to you?”
Barbie - “Well…You know how long it took for me to finally get clean and get a job?!”
Liz - “Come on dude that was your choice to do those drugs. He didn’t give them to you or force you to take them. Besides, to me it sounds like the fire was just an accident. Have you ever even ask him how he felt about it?”
Those words hit Barbie like a ton of bricks: she was so wrapped up in her pain and feelings, she never even bothered to ask her own brother about the accident. But that still didn’t change that he was the reason their circus and home burnt down.
Liz - “Beside, put yourself in his shoes…Well, boots actually: if he was the one in rehab and left and you tried to reach out to him, but Blitzo coldly turned you away. Wouldn’t you feel hurt that your own twin is turning you away?”
Barbie stood in silence. For a kid, Liz is rather wise. Barbie just crossed her arms and looked down on the floor. It’s like she wants to admit that Liz was right, but at the same time, Barbie is still angry and hurt by what her brother did.
Liz - “One more thing. Siblings aren’t perfect. I mean my twin sister Sonya maybe an annoying nerd *Sonya give her a disapprove look* but I love her. I wouldn’t trade her for the world. Just because there are some bad times, doesn’t mean there’s no good ones. I mean Blitzo really does care about you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have tried to find you.”
Barbie’s eyes widened. She never thought of it like that. Blitzo was finding her because that’s her twin brother. Her other half. He cared about her unlike their drunk goat of a father who didn’t even bother to visit. Maybe deep down she was just blaming Blitzo to cover up her own shame and guilt for not saving their mother and getting hooked on drugs.
Barbie - *doubtful* “What if…It’s too late to make up?”
Liz - “It’s never too late. Just because some years past, doesn’t mean it had to stop. You can still be in each other life for as young as you lived.”
Barbie - *smiles* “Thanks for the advice kid. Sorry for acting like a bitch.”
Liz - “Eh. I met bigger bitches then you. I mean, have you met Verosika?”
They both laugh at this. Then Barbie looked at her watch and said:
Barbie - “Hey I gotta go. *write down something on a piece of paper* here’s my number if you ever wanna talk again. But I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Liz - *smiles* “Thanks dude.”
They both wave bye to each other Barbie begins to walk out of the hospital. She looked at her phone and started to look at some old pictures. It was old pictures of her and her family spending time together. Then she saw ones of her and Blitzo as kids playing together, doing circus acts, playing pranks, etc. Barbie then had tears in her eyes and the tears fell on her phone.
She didn’t want to cry in front of Liz. But Liz’s words hit her through the heart: she turned away Blitzo, the only person who cared about her beside their mom. She wasted so much time being angry and blaming him, that she forgot about the good times she had with her brother. Deep down, she missed her brother, but felt like it was too painful to see him.
Now knowing what to do, Barbie began to go to her block page, unblocked the only person on it, and began to call. It took a few minutes and then it picked up.
Blitzo - “Hello?”
Barbie - *sighs* “Hey Blitz..”
Blitzo - “Barb?! What happened? Are you okay? Did you get on that stupid drugs again? Cause I can help get you clean-“
Barbie - *annoyed* “No shithead! I *take a deep breath and calm down* I just wanted to say…I’m sorry.”
Blitzo - “No Barb, you and Nurse Annoying Vagina Mouth was right: I should of left you annoyed when you were trying to rebuilt your life and-“
Barbie - “No, it’s not just that. I’m sorry about what happened…On Fizz’s birthday.”
Blitzo - “….What about it?”
Barbie - *sighs* “I was putting too much blame on you. It was an accident. Yeah you caused it, but at the same time didn’t do it on purpose. I guess I was just so hurt and angry that Mom was gone and I was too chicken shit to save her during the fire.”
Blitzo - “Hey don’t put this on yourself, I should have saved her.”
Barbie - “No Blitz. Dad and I could have done something but you know Dad being the drunken dickhead that he is, and me well…I could have gotten help or at least tried like you did. But I just stood there and did nothing…”
Blitzo - “Barb…”
Barbie - “Worst of all, I got on those stupid drugs and turned you away when you were trying to help me…I wasted so much time…I guess I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me because how I use to be like this great circus star now I’m a wash up loser while you starting your own company and Fizz is living a fairy tale life.”
Blitzo - “Barbie you listen to me: you’re not a washed up loser. Beside Fizz, you were a great performer. You made some
mistakes, so have I, but what is important is that you get your ass up, and keep showing dickshits that you’re still the best bitch in hell!”
Barbie - *chuckles* “You have the way with words.”
Blitzo - “Well I did learn that stuff from the internet…What made you decide to talk to me again?”
Barbie - “A kid and her twin.”
Blitzo - “Nice. Hey if you want, you can always work with me and my company. We can always use the extra help.”
Barbie - “Nah. That’s your thing. I gotta find my own. Say…You’re still offering that dinner?”
Blitzo - “Yeah?”
Barbie - “I wouldn’t mind getting free food. Especially if you’re paying.”
Blitzo - “I was thinking more about dine and dash. Or fucking the waiter so we can get free meal. But that's fine too. I’ll see you there.”
Barbie - *laughs* “Okay I’ll meet you in the city.”
Blitzo - “Fantastic. And Barb? Thanks for talking to me. Love you.”
Barbie - “Love you too ya weird bastard.”
Barbie hung up and smiled. She can’t remember the last time she smiled or feeling this happy in a long time. It actually felt good talking to Blitzo and spilling her guts on how she felt. She knows that despite the many mistakes she made in her life, she can’t let it stop her from living and moving on. Her mom would want that for her. Barbie have high hopes that her life is gonna change for the better.
All thanks to the Gemini girls.
Hope you all like it!
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djmarinizelablog · 2 years
Note
hi! Idk if you're still doing this or you've done this alr but levihan with, “I think (she/he/they/I) rubbed off on you.”
[cool breeze and swagga jockas together with their lollipop-scented jeans]
Summary: Levi and Hange were sick of quarantines.
Submitted this to @levihan-drabbles for their anniversary contest!
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They were both bored and sick and had to be quarantined for at least a week. It wasn't COVID, they checked. Unless those at-home COVID tests were useless and unreliable. Like government aids. And shitty politicians. They were both bored and sick and ready to break down the door and smash the floor and set the house on fire and scream about freedom in public just to get out of confinement. 
But mostly they were just bored. 
Hange was watching the ceiling fan spin for six hours, and Levi had to punch a hole in the wall with his fist, only to find out that there were rats scurrying around as if these furry little rodents could see everything he and Hange had been doing this whole time, which was nothing much at all. 
“Hey, Levi!” Hange quipped. They had been talking to the milk box inside the fridge for the past 30 minutes. “Wanna write a few letterboxd reviews with me?”
He was shitting his brains out in the bathroom after eating that microwavable box of expired pasta. Fuck you, mac n' cheese. Fuck you, lactose intolerance. The toilet clogged without warning, poop water spilling out of it.
Which meant that Levi had nothing better to do. “Well, shit, why not?”
After dinner, they started with Mamma Mia which was better off being a musical so that everyone could forget about Meryl Streep singing like a fading pop star in her 50s, only to find out that her one and only daughter born out of wedlock had invited all the man-whores in her mother’s life.
“How can you sleep with three men in one week and not know who the father is?” 
(Yeah, also: DNA tests exist.)
Levi crossed his arms. “If there is a sequel to this, I’m gonna fucking riot.” 
Watching this completely unbelievable and inaccurate musical-turned-movie only made them feel worse. They felt so high listening to "Dancing Queen'' that they head butted each other in the living room while yelling "Abracadabra!" until the next movie was about to start. 
Hange had chosen Magic Mike because they hadn't seen it yet. Like fever dreams and non-existent manic pixie dream girls, it should have stayed that way.
“Hollywood lied to us,” they said, snot running down their nose.  “I thought this was a movie about karaoke! Karaoke, Levi!” 
But Levi pretended not to hear them. Unlike Hange, his nose was clogged, just like the toilet where he had shit his brains out. Imagine if someone were to kidnap him and tape his mouth with his nose still clogged. He'd die in seconds.
“Today, I dreamt my best friend was a piece of broccoli," he said, breaking the fourth wall where the rats were so Levi could speak to the camera. "I think it was more entertaining than watching this entire thing.”
Hange wrestled him to the ground while reciting the alphabet in reverse order. They didn’t know why they felt like doing that, but they did it, anyway. They had read a science encyclopedia before where it mentioned that ants communicated with their antennae so Hange rubbed their forehead against Levi’s and cried like a baby for forgiveness. 
The next movie was already halfway through at that point. It was Stuart Little, featuring a mouse trying to act like a real high school kid with his teeny-tiny backpack. Hange wanted to scream and ask the director if they would ever choose to adopt a rodent instead of an actual human, but Levi told them that’s racist. Plus, they didn’t know who the director was. So they shut the TV off and went to sleep for 24 hours. Hange knew it was for 24 hours because it was 8pm before they closed their eyes and when they woke up the clock said 8pm, too.
The funny thing was that everything was upside down afterwards. The chairs and tables were stuck to the ceiling, and all their furniture was turned over as if Mike Tyson came in and did a right hook to their apartment’s body, plus a right uppercut to the chin. So now everything was topsy turvy like a Mad Hatter’s tea party, and Levi was feeling sorry for dozing off for a split-second when it felt like eternity. 
"God, being sick sucks." Levi was being honest. He laid down on the ceiling, technically the floor, and imagined he and Hange had baby peas for children. They would immediately put them up for adoption. Kinda like a reverse Stuart Little. 
Hange held his hand like a dying person. "Gandalf said, 'This too shall pass.'"
"That was not Gandalf, Four-Eyes," Levi corrected them. "Gandalf said, 'You shall not pass.'"
So they did another round of wrestling, clawing and scratching each other like a bunch of Oompa Loompas who didn't know any better. Hange kept saying they were right, but Levi was a die-hard fan of the movies and said they should just goddamn watch the LotR trilogy. When Hange said no, he went in for a camel clutch and head locked Hange until they tapped out, only for them to end up biting his hand, pretending it was a piece of broccoli. If this were WWE, they would have been disqualified already. And if this were a movie, they would have bombed the screening premiere by now. The two of them were better off making anime, starring themselves in a dystopian world called Attack on Titan in which they battled giant humanoid monsters by slicing their napes with enormous box cutters.
“I think they rubbed off on you,” Hange said. They were talking about the kids from daycare that Levi had to take care of. He agreed. No wonder they were acting like a bunch of adrenaline-fueled brats.
At least, they woke up feeling sexy. 
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loopyarts · 1 year
Text
chapter 4 sneak peak
Welp, I was planning to get the full chapter done for before Christmas but I got ill and have been bedridden for a few days. So I thought I do a sneak peak as a backup to make up for it. Anyway I hope you all have a nice Christmas Day tomorrow. 
Hajime and Teruteru looked up at Nekomaru with teary filled eyes and noses that leaked mixture of blood and snot from their faces as he separated the two of them from each other.    
“Now, tell why the both of you are all banged up” he asked folding his arms in a stern manner looking down at the sorry state of the two brownettes. He then noticed how Hajime and Teruteru were not looking each other, as shame reflected from their eyes “don’t tell you two fraught, like two kids on a playground”.    
Teruteru and Hajime sided eye each other before quickly looking back at Nekomaru, nodding in a yes-like manner with their breathing being heavy and slow.    
Nekomaru put his hands to his waist his expression softens now seeing how tired both Hajime and Teruteru were with their purple baggy eyes and bloodshot eyes “aw geez, Hajime no wonder Mahiru send me to check on you, you look you haven’t slept in like a week why didn’t you tell anyone, you were so tired” asked Nekomaru.  
“I didn’t think… I just thought that I be fine but” Hajime voice went shaky as he looked back at Teruteru “I just been doing so much lately, which me made so tired and moody” more tears fell down from his flustered face. He felt so embarrassed he was meant to be a leader an adult.      
“Look Hajime, why don’t you wait outside for a second and I help get back to your cottage after I give Teruteru talking to” said Nekomaru as he patted Hajime on the shoulder, Hajime nodded and left leaving just Teruteru and Nekomaru in the room as Nekomaru walk over to the tired eyed chef.    
“Now Teruteru, I think you own Hajime an apology” Nekomaru suggested calmly to which the chef respond with defensive tone.  
“Well, he started it” cried Teruteru as he tries to defend himself, he didn’t do anything wrong then, silent was all he gave as he felt Nekomaru put a hand to his shoulder, the chef looked up to Nekomaru disappoint face.  
   “I don’t care who started it, you need to understand that your actions have consequences Teruteru Hanamura and the way you act make people not want anything to do with you” Nekomaru said in calm voice as he continues “I won’t yell at you or hit you because that doesn’t work. Maybe you should think for yourself this time and decide if you want to be treated like a child or not”.  Nekomaru then stood up and left Teruteru all alone and locked the door behind him.    
Teruteru ran to the door in a panic and attempted to open it but realised it was locked. He sat down in the middle of floor no he didn’t mean too he didn’t do anything wrong he tell himself; his mind became anxious as his breathing getting heavy “I… I need to get out of here” he says to himself sitting back up and walking over to get his coat from the closet and begin to look all around the cottage for a way out, after a few minutes of searching he found his ticket out.    
“Me, a child yeah right…” he mutters to himself as he tugged at his coat.  
…..  
Meanwhile with Hajime and Nekomaru were strolling back towards Hajime cottage, having a conversation as they walked on the creaking pathway of planks of wood above the sand.
“I’m sorry about the whole fighting with Teruteru earlier” Hajime paused bit his lips “I… I should have known better”.  
“Hajime, your only human and sometimes, we make mistakes and errors in judgment” said Nekomaru.    
“I just don’t understand him sometimes Nekomaru” Hajime sighed “I want to help him I really do but he just so frustrating to talk to and today I think know even less about him then I did before” he then put his hands to his face as Nekomaru pat him on the back.  
Hajime then chuckled weakly as he looked up at the taller men “He doesn’t even remember what happen in the virtual simulation”.  
Nekomaru pauses for a bit before speaking “hmm it is strange that he doesn’t remember but maybe that’s a good thing Hajime that’s he doesn’t remember. I mean he died Hajime and if I could, I would”.  
Hajime flinched realising how insensitive he was being spoke up with anxiety in his tone “I’m-I’m so sorry Nekomaru I did mean to upset you, I”.  
“No worries, you’re probably too tired to be thinking about that right now Hajime, gets some rest and you and Teruteru can talk and make up once both of you are in tip top sharp” Nekomaru grinned at Hajime to which Hajime gave him a smile back as him as they got to Hajime cottage.    
“Thanks, Nekomaru, yeah I probably do need to rest a bit it just I had a lot on my shoulders, since I’m the one everyone comes too on a daily basis” Hajime yawns as he opens the door to his cottage but before he went inside, he turned to Nekomaru “also can you check on Teruteru, I really worried he going to do something reckless”.  
“Roger, Hajime” roared Nekomaru cheerfully giving the Hajime thumb up, the brunette nodded feeling reassured by Nekomaru words yawning as he heads inside his cottage leaving Nekomaru to makes his way back to Teruteru cottage.    
...  
When Nekomaru arrives back at the chef cottage, it was quiet, too quiet for his liking as he walked towards the door, unlocking it. He scouted around the whole cottage for the chubby brunette.  
“Teruteru hello, are you there” Nekomaru call out as he kept searching around the cottage. he then felt a breeze hit his shoulder from behind him. Curious, he turned to around to find the window was wide open as the curtain flapped around the window frame. Oh no thought Nekomaru as it didn’t take him long to put the pieces to together that Teruteru climbed though the window and has wonder off somewhere. He run out the cottage only to run into Akane who seems to be running towards him as well.  
“Nekomaru, why are you running” asked Akane as she catches her breath from running him down.  
“I was looking for Teruteru, replied Nekomaru in fast pace “and I need to find him before it gets too cold, he not very well and could get worse at night” Akane gave a surprise look as she spoke.  
“Well, that explains why I saw Teruteru wondering into the topical forest, although he didn’t seem all their”.
“What” yelled Nekomaru as he shakes Akane “then we need to go now” as he let go of her as begins to rush ahead, Akane shakes her head typical she thought as she runs to catch up with him calling him from behind.
“You’re lucky guy Nekomaru, to have a girlfriend who can keep up with you and that big heart of yours” she grins as she follows him into the topical forest.  
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gourmetrace · 3 years
Text
had a dream this kid was real and chasing me down the street in middle of the night, no weapon except his nose
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dadbodosamu · 3 years
Text
what’s my name? [daddy]
Stepdad Osamu x Cis!Fem reader
WARNINGS: cheating, pseudoincest (stepdad/daughter), spanking, age gap (Osamu’s in his thirties and reader is freshly 18), daddy kink, spit kink, breeding kink
2.8k words. unbeta’d and vaguely edited
part one || part two || part three
“I can walk,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. It’s your last year of high school, you’re an adult now, freshly eighteen, you can walk yourself to school, damn it.
“Let me drive ya,” Osamu says, grabbing the keys to his car. “Ya won’t let me make ya lunch anymore, let me at least drive ya to school. We can stop and get breakfast.”
“I can walk, Osamu,” you say, glaring at the older man.
Osamu stops dead in his tracks. “What was that? What did ya just call me?”
You scoff, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “You’re not my dad and I’m not a kid anymore.”
You grab the door handle but before you can open it, Osamu has you spun around, facing him. His face is dark and the grip he has on your wrist is bruising.
“O-Osamu, you’re hurting me,” you whimper, trying, and failing, to pull your wrist from his iron grip.
“There ya go again,” he says. He tuts and shakes his head. “Go sit on the couch. I have to make a few calls real quick.”
His tone leaves no room for argument, so you walk across the living room with all the shame of a scolded puppy.
Osamu is already speaking by the time you sit on the soft couch.
“Hi, this is Miya Osamu, Hanamiya Y/n’s father. She’s feeling a little under the weather today, so she won’t be able to make it in.” Osamu says. He pauses for a moment. “I’ll be around to pick her work up sometimes this afternoon, thank ya. Ya have a good day.”
Before you can speak, Osamu is calling another number.
“Hey, it’s Osamu. Y/n is sick today, so I need ya to watch over the restaurant. Call if there’s an emergency,” Osamu says. He hangs up quickly, and dials yet another number. “Hey, {mother’s name}, Y/n is feeling a bit bad so I’m going to stay home with her today.” He pauses. “It’s no problem, stay at work. If she gets worse I’ll take her to the doctor.” You can barely hear your mother on the other side of the phone, but you hear her small ‘I love you’. “Yeah, I’ll see ya after work.”
Hearing him so clearly dismiss your mother has you seething. You almost want to throw something at him as he hangs up.
“You’re such a dick,” you say as he walks towards you. “You don’t care about her at all. Fuck you.”
Osamu laughs as he sits in the chair next to the couch you’re on. “Fuck me? Oh, no, little girl. I’m gonna make ya regret those words. Come here.”
“Fuck you,” you repeat, crossing your arms.
“I’ll give ya until the count of three,” Osamu says. “One.” You don’t move. His face darkens. “Two. I’m not kidding, little girl. Come here. Now.”
His voice is more serious than you’ve ever heard it. A shiver runs up your spine as you stand without a second thought. You take a few steps until you’re standing directly in front of him.
“Good girl,” he praises. The words roll off his tongue like honey, and, unwittingly, your pussy throbs. “Now, bend over my lap.”
You nearly laugh. “No way, there’s no way. I’m not a child.”
“One.”
You’re bent over his lap before he gets to two.
“See, ya can listen,” Osamu says. His hand runs over your too short school skirt, flattening it down.
Your cheeks burn with humiliation. You can’t remember the last time anyone had you bent over their lap, much less Osamu, who preferred other punishments.
“Osamu, please, I’m sorry,” you whisper.
He lands a heavy hit across your ass, his large hand catching both cheeks.
You let out a loud cry as you jerk forward.
“That again,” Osamu says, shaking his head. “Ya know that hurts my feelings, little girl? Calling me by my name? Like I didn’t raise ya. Now, tell me why ya decided to hurt daddy’s feelings like that?”
Tears burn at your eyes. “I-I hate you!” You cry, tears spilling down your cheeks.
Osamu tuts and lands another heavy handed slap on your ass. “And why is that, little girl? Tell daddy what’s wrong.” He rubs your burning bum soothingly.
“Y-you’re mean to mom!” You sob. “An-and I hate you for it, Miya Osamu!”
Two consecutive slaps land on either cheek and you hiccup a sob.
“That’s where yer wrong, baby girl,” Osamu says, once again rubbing soothing circles on your bum. “Me an’ yer mom had an agreement. It’s not my fault if she gets her feelin’s hurt. She hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
You open your mouth to speak but cry out instead as Osamu spanks you three more times in quick succession.
“An’ anyway, that’s adult business,” Osamu adds. “No place for a little girl’s nose.”
“Osamu, it hurts,” you whine, squirming around on his lap. You freeze when you feel something hard poking against your stomach.
“There we go again,” Osamu sighs. He spanks you no less than five times, each harder than the last. Your body shakes from your sobs.
“Daddy, please!” You cry, tears and snot covering your face. “Please, I’m sorry!”
“There we go,” Osamu says, smiling widely. “That’s my good girl. What’s my name, again, sweetheart?”
“Daddy,” you whimper, sniffling. You rub your face with your sleeve as Osamu rearranges your body so you’re straddling his thighs.
“Daddy’s sorry for spanking ya, sweetheart. I know how my little girl gets sometimes,” he says, hugging you to his broad chest. “Ya get so bratty, daddy just can’t help himself.”
“‘m sorry, daddy,” you sniffle. You can’t help be be acutely aware of Osamu’s hard erection pressing against your sore ass. “D-Daddy, your...”
“What is it, baby girl?” Osamu asks, gently pulling you down, pressing his cock further into your plush ass.
You hiss in pain. “It-it hurts,” you moan.
Truth be told, it hurt so good. Each slap against your ass had your pussy clenching around nothing and now that you knew Osamu was clearly turned on... well it was making your heart beat faster.
“Want daddy to make ya feel better?” Osamu asks. He thrusts his hips smoothly, grinding his cock against your pussy.
You think about your mom. How heartbroken she would be if she found out about this and how your relationship would never be the same.
Osamu’s lips attach to the base of your neck and thoughts of your mother melt away.
“Daddy,” you moan, rolling your hips to feel more of him. “Daddy, please, I wanna feel better.”
“I know, baby, I know,” Osamu mumbled against your skin. “Daddy’s gonna make ya feel better, okay? Daddy’s gonna make everything better.”
Osamu lifts you easily. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he carries you to your room. You try not to think of the bedroom right across from yours that he shares with your mother.
Osamu tosses you on your bed and you immediately reach out for him.
“Wan’ you,” you whine, your hands grabbing at nothing.
Osamu pulls his shirt off and tosses it across the room before climbing on top of you.
“My little girl is so needy for daddy’s cock, eh?” Osamu asks, rocking his hips against yours. You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his hair.
“Daddy, want your cock so bad,” you moan. He pulls back, drawing a long whine from your lips.
“Stop whining,” he orders. Long fingers come up to your shirt buttons, nimble as they unbutton each pearly white button, exposing the peach-coloured bra you were wearing.
Your cheeks burn, suddenly wishing you’d chosen matching underwear this morning, or at least something more mature.
“So cute,” Osamu coos, throwing your shirt away. “Yer so adorable, baby girl.” Osamu pushes your bra up over your breasts and leans down. He gently takes your left nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue against it as he teases the other with his fingers.
“Daddy,” you moan, clenching your fingers in his hair. He pinches your nipple and grazes his teeth over the other.
“Cute little nipples,” he mumbles, leaning up and tugging on both nipples one last time. He presses a kiss between your breasts and trailed down, leaving soft kisses down your stomach until he reaches the hem of your skirt. He looks up at you.
You nod. “Please, daddy. I-I want you.” Osamu makes quick work of your skirt and pink panties.
He kneels between your legs, spreading them wide. “Look at ya, such a pretty pussy.”
Osamu arranged your bodies until he was comfortably facing your cunt. “I could just eat ya up, baby girl.”
“Daddy, I want you to touch me, please!” You cry as he teasingly runs his fingers through your wet folds.
“I am, baby,” he says, smirking wickedly.
“More! Want you to really touch me, daddy!” You say, impatiently bucking your hips up against his hand.
“Settle down, baby,” Osamu says, pushing your hips against the bed with his free hand. “Daddy’ll make ya feel real good, darlin’.”
Before you could say anything, Osamu rubs his thumb in a circle over your clit. Your words get lost in a moan. Your head falls back against your pillow as Osamu leans down. He presses a soft kiss against your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your clit.
“Samu!” You cry, back arching off the bed as he inserted a single, long finger in your cunt, all the while suckling at your clit.
He landed a sharp slap to your thigh without pulling away. He adds another finger roughly.
“What’s my name, little girl?” He asks. He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly.
“Daddy,” you whimper as he licks deep into your cunt.
“Good girl,” he praises before leaning back down. He scissors his fingers, slowly stretching your walls. He ate you out in earnest, switching between slurping up your juices and suckling on your clit.
“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, gripping the sheets below you.
“Cum on my tongue, sweetheart,” Osamu says, pulling his fingers out. He rubs figure-8s over your clit and fucks his tongue in and out of your throbbing heat.
“Daddy!” You cry as your orgasm hits you. You cum hard, juices squirting on Osamu's face. He continues rubbing your clit until you start squirming from overstimulation. When he looks up at you, his eyes are dark and his chin is covered with your cum.
“Tastes so good, baby girl,” he says, crawling over you. He grabs your chin and kisses you roughly, not even letting you attempt a fight for dominance.
The taste of yourself on his lips has you thrusting your hips up, eager for more.
“So impatient,” Osamu tuts. He grabs your chin again. “So you’ll take anything daddy gives ya, right, baby girl?”
You nod, desperately waiting for something, anything.
“Open yer mouth,” he orders. Your mouth falls open without a second thought.
You can see Osamu gathering spit in his mouth and you let your tongue loll out in excitement.
“My baby is so desperate,” Osamu coos. “Ya want daddy’s spit that bad, baby?”
You let out a pitiful whine and squeeze his forearm.
You moan when his spit finally hits your tongue. Your eyes close as you savour it for just a moment before swallowing.
“That’s my good girl, swallowing before I even tell ya too,” Osamu praises. “Tell me what ya want, sweetie.”
“I wan’ you,” you whine. You tangle your fingers in the back of his hair and pull him into a brutal, sloppy kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please.”
Osamu pulls away from you, breathing heavily, lips swollen and eyes dark. He quickly kicks his sweat pants down and off the bed.
“Come on, use yer words,” he says. “What do ya really want, baby?” He uses one hand to trace his cock along your slit, teasing your clit and clenching hole.
“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you say, hooking your right leg around his waist, pulling his hips down to meet yours. “Please, I want it so bad.”
You bite your lip as your eyes burn.
“Aw, is baby gonna cry for daddy’s cock?” Osamu teases. He pushes the fat head of his cock past your folds. You moan loudly.
“Please,” you moan. “Want more.”
Osamu pulls your right leg up and over his shoulder and inches his cock in your wet heat. He moans lowly.
“So fuckin’ tight, baby girl,” he says. Your eyes water as his fat cock burns as he slowly stretches your walls out. “Fuck, look how well yer taking me, baby.”
You glance down to where your skin melds together. You let out a low whine once you realise he’s barely halfway in.
“More, more,” you whimper, rolling your hips up. Every movement has him hitting another spot in you that has you clenching around him.
“Gonna take it all? Gonna be my good girl and take my cock?” He grunts as he pushes deeper. By the time he bottoms out, the head of his cock is pressing against your cervix and your thighs are shaking from the stretch.
“Oh, daddy,” you sigh as he stills. He’s stretching you in a way no one has before, and the burn just adds to the pleasure.
“Yer so fuckin’ full of me,” Osamu says, marvelling at the bulge in your lower stomach. He presses down on it lightly. He moans. “Gonna fill ya up real good, baby. Gonna make ya swollen with my seed.”
“Move,” you moan. “Want you to fill me up, daddy.”
Osamu pulls out slowly. He tosses your other leg over his shoulder and grabs your hips tightly.
“Oh, baby, yer not ready for me,” Osamu smirks. Before you can ask what he means, his hips pound against your ass, his cock going even deeper than before. A moan rips from your lips.
“Daddy!” You call, digging your nails into his shoulders.
Osamu doesn’t slow as his fingers meet your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in small circles. Your walls clench around him as your first orgasm hits you suddenly.
“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on daddy’s cock,” Osamu says. His hips and fingers don’t slow down as you gush around his cock. His pace seems that much more brutal with your overstimulation.
“Hurts,” you choke out. Your thighs tremble as Osamu continues his bruising pace.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “Yer such a good girl for me, darling.”
Tears roll down your cheeks as another orgasm racks your body.
Osamu’s eyes roll back as your walls milk his cock.
“Good girl,” Osamu rumbled. “Creaming around my cock so well.”
You cry as Osamu speeds up.
“S-so good, daddy,” you sob as he grabs your legs and spreads them wide. You cry harder as he fucks into your cervix. “Fill me up, please, daddy! Want you to breed me!”
“‘m gonna fuck ya so full of my cum,” Osamu grunts, pounding into you slower and deeper. “Gonna knock ya up. Ya want daddy to get you pregnant, huh? Wanna be swollen with daddy’s seed?” You nearly bite your tongue nodding.
“Want your cum, daddy,” you whine as your legs start to ache. A high-pitched whine fills the room as you cum yet again.
“Fuck,” Osamu swears, his pace speeding up again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart.”
His cock twitches inside you.
“Please, daddy, please. Want you to fill me up, breed me! Want your baby. Want your cum, need your cum! Please, fill me up, daddy!” You babble uncontrollably as Osamu’s hips stutter.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Osamu moans as he paints your insides white.
One last orgasm hits you as you milk his cock.
“Daddy,” you breathe as his cum fills you up. “So good.”
“Yer such a good girl, sweetheart,” Osamu says. He pulls out slowly.
“No, no,” you whine, clenching around nothing. “Want you to stay in me. Don’t wanna lose daddy’s cum.”
“It’s okay, baby, daddy’ll fill ya up over and over again,” Osamu says. He moves until his arms are wrapped tightly around you and you’re laid across his chest.
He hums with satisfaction as you trace your fingers across his chest.
“Ya were such a good girl, darling. Took my cock so well,” Osamu praised. “Yer daddy’s best girl.”
“Better than your other girls?” You ask.
“Yer the only girl I care about, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “I love ya, little girl.”
“I love you, too, daddy,” you mumble. You yawn.
“Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep, baby,” Osamu says. He easily carries you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub as he starts the water.
You frown as you catch sight of your mother’s robe and reality hits you.
“Oh, god,” you whisper. You look down at Osamu’s cum leaking out all over your thighs. “Oh my god.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Osamu asks.
“I’m gonna be sick,” you mumble, covering your mouth. “Mom’s gonna hate me.”
Oh, she’s really going to hate you in three months, when a small bump forms between your hips and you refuse to admit who the father is. Osamu’s smug face whenever it’s mentioned doesn’t miss you.
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cherrycocaineee · 3 years
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6. Draco Malfoy - Rainy Nights, Warm Drinks
*Warning - smut*
“I want you.”
“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.”
Draco’s p.o.v
  Loud chatter filled the jam-packed dining hall as students discussed their Christmas plans while their grubby hands reached for the feast laid out before each house. My gray-blue eyes stared blankly at the turkey and sides that touched my plate, my fork picking at whatever it could reach without me moving too much. I was counting down the moments that led up to Dumbledore clinking his fork against his glass that would dismiss everyone from Hogwarts, sending them home. Each single tick drove me crazy as I shook my leg, desperately pleading for time to move faster. At the end of this feast, everyone would be on the train heading to their families, while I would finally get to see the one person that I couldn’t get off my mind. Even now, the only thing I could think about was seeing her beautiful face and hearing her soothing, angelic voice, tuning out the voices of my friends.
  “Draco? Earth to Draco!”
  Pansy’s voice sliced right through my current thoughts involving my plans after school. Blinking a few times, I turned my head to see Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Pike, and Nott staring at me. While Pansy stared at me with concern, the guys stared at me skeptically.
  “What?” I muttered, dully.
  “Pansy asked you what you were doing during the break,” Blaise informed, taking a sip from his cup.
  “Yeah,” Pansy agreed, “I was thinking you and I could go on a date since we won’t be in school.”
 A date? I had broken up with Pansy a year ago with the excuse that dating her had become boring, which it had, however, the real reason I left Pansy was because I had fallen in love with another girl. The whole thing had torn me up since day one because I hadn’t believed that I, the Slytherin Prince, could have fallen for a muggle, and yet I did. After a whole week of thinking about it and running everything carefully through my mind, I finally decided that I didn’t love Pansy and needed to end it with her before things got too serious.
  “I won’t be returning home this Christmas,” I stated, “Dumbledore has asked me to stay and help tutor some second years in potions.”
 “That’s ridiculous!” Pansy sneered, “it isn’t your job to teach those brats.”
  “You’re dad’s okay with that?” Nott asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
  “He wasn’t at first but once Dumbledore told him that I was the highest ranking student when it came to potions, he settled down and decided that I’d make a great leader for those snot nose brats,” I spoke, pride dripping from my lying tongue.
  Of course, staying at Hogwarts wasn’t a complete lie, it was just not the full truth. For the first four days of break, I’d be staying with Maggie and her Grandmother then I’d come back to Hogwarts to help out with tutoring, and it’ll keep going like that until school starts again. It was an agreement that I had worked out with Dumbledore after he found out about Maggie, which if I’m being honest, I’m not even sure how he found out.
  “And you’re okay with it?” Blaise asked, amused.
  “Doesn’t matter to me,” I muttered.
  I looked back down at my plate, feeling their eyes still watching me but not paying attention to it. Eventually, Dumbledore stood up from his seat and clinked his silverware against his wine glass. The chatter stopped immediately as everyone turned their impatient attention to the headmaster. Excitement was bursting through my chest, something I never thought I’d ever feel for a girl like Maggie. Dumbledore started by wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and happy holiday, then proceeded in telling everyone what to expect when they got back from break. We were expected to practice and prepare for our O.W.Ls that were coming up, which Umbridge decided to announce after interrupting Dumbledore. I may have pretended to like Umbridge and do as she said to appease my friends, but in all honesty, I hated her more than I hated anyone else.
   After all of Dumbledore and Umbridge’s talking, the feast disappeared from our tables and it was time for everyone to head to the train. I saw my friends on the train. Pansy turned around.
  “Well maybe I can stay here with you, so you aren’t alone,” she offered.
 Annoyance broke out across my face, “I’ll be fine, Pansy. I’m not interested in spending time with you anyway, so you’ll just be alone.”
  She started pouting while the other snickered behind her back. Scoffing, she stormed past everyone onto the train. I waved goodbye to the others and they followed after Pansy to the cart. Those leaving for the Christmas holiday were finally headed towards the platform and those who would be staying at Hogwarts for the vacation headed back towards the school.
As I was approaching the entrance, I saw Dumbledore standing there waiting for me, a smile on his face.
  “Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” he stated, “have you gotten your belongings together?”
  “My bag is sitting in my room,” I replied.
  “Once you collect it, go to Hagrid’s. He’ll be waiting for you there to help you get to the muggle world. Have a safe trip.”
  With that, Dumbledore walked away allowing me to go fetch my belongings.
I grabbed my trunk out of my dorm room and carried it all the way towards Hagrid’s small hut just a little ways from the school. Hagrid was outside playing fetch with his large hound as I finished walking towards him. Immediately, he looked up after tossing the rather large stick across the field.
  “Malfoy,” Hagrid said, “what brings you here?”
I raised an eyebrow. He was kidding, right?
  The big oaf laughed heartily and patted my shoulder with his gorilla sized hand.
 “I’m messing, is all,” he bellowed, “let’s get a move on it before anyone notices.”
 Hagrid opened the door to his home and gestured me inside. Sitting on the table when he opened the door was a thick, black bag filled with dark, gray powder. Hagrid scooted around me and picked up the black bag before meeting my gaze. This was awkward for me, and I knew he could tell but fortunately he didn’t say anything to make it worse. Instead, he told me that the floo network would take us to Diagon Alley and we’d have to walk through another entrance into the muggle world. From there we’d take a wizard bus, which I found odd, straight to Maggie’s farmhouse just on the outskirts of London. However, I grew bored with being explained the plan and just wanted to get there already.
   I went through the floo network first and waited for Hagrid patiently for a moment. Once he was standing by my side, he took my luggage and walked with me through Diagon Alley. We both walked through the less populated parts of Diagon Alley until the two of us reached a dead end. Hagrid tapped his umbrella against the wall in a pattern and they started pulling apart revealing the empty alley of the muggle world. The smell was different from the one back in the wizarding world. I could definitely smell freshly mown grass, but there was an oil smell mixed in too. As Hagrid and I walked past all of the people and shops that adorn the streets, I could smell pastries, coffees, and other foods that I recognized. I could feel the inside of my mouth water.
We waited on the sidewalk near a coffee shop for what seemed like forever before a bus came to a sudden stop in front of us. No one seemed to notice its incredible speed.
  “Why hello there, Hagrid,” said a frail, stubbled face man wearing a purple suit.
  “Hello to you too, Stan Shunpike,” Hagrid laughed, “starting work a bit early, aren’t you?”
  Shunpike gave a crooked smile and nodded his head before gesturing us on. I went to grab my trunk when Shunpike grabbed it instead, pushing me inside. The smell was something to gag at. It smelled worse than anything I could imagine. Hagrid took a seat.
  “Aren’t you going to have a seat, Malfoy?” He questioned.
 “No, I’d rather stand,” I muttered, disgust lacing my voice.
  “Where to?” Shunpike asked.
  Hagrid gave the address and Shunpike looked at us confused.
  “That’s a muggle household.”
   “Not completely,” Hagrid said, “Loral Belle is the homeowner, Dumbledore’s friend.”
  A slow nod bounced off his thin shoulders and sat down.
  “Ernie, you know where to go.”
As soon as the knight bus took off, the speed pushed me back. Not even my grip was strong enough to keep me in place and I ended stumbling backwards until Hagrid’s large hand grabbed ahold of me. I pretty much clung to Hagrid’s large arm as we whirlwind through the busy streets of London. Two trucks stood in the way of the bus and I thought we’d slow down. However, we didn’t. Instead, the bus warfed itself so that it was thinner and we slid right through the small crack separating the two muggle vehicles. It wasn’t long before we reached the dirt road that led to Maggie’s farmhouse. Hagrid paid Shunpike and told him that there was extra in it for him if he waited for him and kept this visit a secret. Shunpike agreed with a large smile on his face.
    Hagrid grabbed my trunk and led the way to Maggie’s. He tried to make small talk with me as we hiked down the dirt road, but neither one of us knew what to say to each other.
 “How did you meet her?” He finally asked, catching my attention.
 “My father had some work to do with an old, retired friend,” I said, all of the memories flooding back to my mind, “I saw her sitting by the fountain reading a book when a group of guys started harassing her. I watched her try to get away from them, failing miserably, so I stepped in despite her being a muggle. A gentleman never lets a woman get pushed around. She already knew I was a wizard when I helped her, she said that her Grandmother had taught her to tell the difference from a young age. The more I talked to her, the more I liked being around her.”
  A goofy smile appeared on his face, “she sounds like an amazing young woman.”
  “She is.”
  Sitting on the porch when we got there was Grandma Loral rocking back and forth while a red scarf was being knitted next to her in the air. When she saw us, a smile appeared on her face and she climbed to her feet, approaching us at the edge of her porch.
  “Hagrid,” she greeted, “it’s been years.”
  “Nice to see you too, Loral,” Hagrid said, “I wish I could stay long, but I’m only here to drop off Mr. Malfoy. I’ll see you in four day.”
 I looked up at Hagrid, “thank you, Hagrid.”
If I didn’t know any better, which I didn’t, I could have sworn I saw tears in Hagrid’s eyes. He tried to push it away and claimed that dirt had gotten in his eye, but I knew the truth. No one was use to me being so nice, and seeing me do so meant to them that I was finally deciding things on my own and not because my father wanted them. Just like my decision to continue seeing a muggle. Grandma Loral and I waved goodbye to Hagrid, once he was gone, Grandma Loral sat back in her seat.
  “Maggie’s in the garden out back,” she said smiling, “thank you for coming, Draco. I know that the decision couldn’t have been easy.”
  “Actually,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, “it was the easiest choice I’ve ever had to make in my life.”
  Grandma Loral told me to head back there and she’d take care of my trunk. Nodding, I walked down the steps and headed down the cobblestone path to find Maggie sitting underneath a tree reading a book. Dozens of flowers of all shapes and colors surrounded her and blew in the breeze. Her brown, curled locks of hair brushed delicately against her freckled face. She was as beautiful as the day I first saw her. I walked over to her and smiled at how deeply invested she was in her novel.
  “Mind if I sit?” I asked.
 Her body jerked and her head whipped around to see me standing there with a smirk on my face. A large grin stretched against her face from ear to ear before nodding eagerly. As soon as my body was positioned next to her, she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly.
  “I’m so happy to see you,” she said, releasing me from her tight grip.
  “I’m happy to see you too, Maggie,” I said, “how have you been?”
 “I’ve been fine. Things have been a little difficult lately.”
When I asked her why, a sad expression came to her face. I thought maybe she was being bullied more, but as she explained, I realized that it wasn’t that. Grandma Loral was getting sick and it was getting worse and worse. Maggie was worried that she’d lose her grandmother and have no one once she’s gone. I touched her hand and told her it was going to be okay. She looked up at me.
  “How have you been?” She asked, her smile trying to distract me from her growing tears.
  I told her about Umbridge and my family, she never looked away from me and held on to my hand the way I held on to her’s when she told me about her Grandma. It seemed we were both going through some stuff right now and all we wanted was for someone to talk and relate to.
The remainder of the day moved quicker than I had hoped. Maggie was now in the kitchen cooking up some soup for dinner while I set up the dining table. From the kitchen, the two of us could hear Grandma Loral coughing up a storm. Maggie grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and brought it to her grandma before returning to finish dinner.
   After supper, Maggie helped her grandma to bed before joining me in the living room with two glasses of hoto cocoa. Rain started to drum against the roof of the farmhouse, lightning slashing against the darkened sky and thunder rolling across the heavy clouds. With each passing second, the rain got harder and louder. I sipped on my warm beverage and looked at Maggie. She had whipped cream sitting above her lip and I laughed causing her to look at me.
  “What?” She asked, an innocent smile dancing on her face.
  “You’ve got some whipped cream on your lip,” I chuckled, leaning forward and wiping it away with my thumb.
  A small red tint appeared on her face as she tried to avoid eye contact with me. I could tell she was embarrassed and I found it to be more attractive than ever. I scooted closer to her and she looked at me.
  “Draco, is everything okay?” She asked.
  “I love you,” I blurted out.
 Her bright green orbs widened in shock and I started to regret saying anything to her. I looked away from her, but she grabbed my shoulder, pulling it to face her.
  “I love you too,” she hummed.
Before I could stop myself, I smashed our lips together, saying a silent prayer that neither of us were holding that hot beverage. The kiss deepened and I pulled her into my lap, gripping her waist tightly to keep her in place. When we pulled away, she was panting from the lack of air, her lips red and slightly swollen from the heated kiss. I leaned down and started nibbling on her neck, earning a small whimper from her.
  “D-Draco,” she gasped.
  I unattached my lips from her warm flesh and peppered her jaw with kisses before reaching her ear.
  “I want you, Maggie.”
 Her body shivered at my words and I smirked. Maggie was gripping onto my blazer tightly.
  “But I-”
  “Shh,” I cooed, “I’ll be gentle.”
  I waited for her to give me the signal to continue. When her head nodded, I laid her down on the cushioned couch and began kissing her again. I traced my tongue against her bottom lip and tasted the cherry lip gloss she had coated her plump lips with after dinner. My fingers squeezed her thigh and she gasped, giving me full entrance to the inside of her mouth. I slipped my tongue into her warm, wet mouth and our tongues fought over dominance, however, Maggie’s submissive side kicked in and she let me take control easily. Quiet moans spilled from her muffled mouth. When I pulled away from her, a small string of saliva pulled from both of our lips. A rosy tint illuminated off her face and her green eyes were hazy, her floral shirt was pulled up, revealing her black, laced bra.
  “Fuck,” I hissed, my pants growing tighter at the sight of her coming undone from my touch.
Pulling myself up, I removed my blazer and tie before unbuttoning my white, dress-up shirt. Her glistening eyes watched my every move, widening at the sight of my bare chest. She started nibbling on her bottom lip as I pulled at the hem of her shirt.
  “Let's get this off,” I muttered, my voice husky and dripping with arousal.
  Maggie didn’t argue, she just pulled her shirt above her head revealing more of herself to me. I groaned as I leaned down and started sucking on her exposed skin, leaving wet kisses against her porcelain skin. Her heartbeat was pounding against her chest, her skin was heating up, and her fingers gripped the couch cushion. I reached behind her and unclipped her bra clasp. Immediately, her hands moved to cover herself up. I lifted her chin.
   “Don’t hide yourself, baby girl,” I whispered, “let me see you, please.”
  “Okay,” she whispered.
She allowed me to remove her bra from her small body and I tossed it to the side with the rest of our clothes that littered the living room floor. I pressed my lips against hers once again, my left hand gripped her left breast and I almost melted at the feeling of her perfectly soft, fleshy breast. Her pink, peachy nipples hardened from both the cold air and my calloused hands pinching at them. Her moans were becoming louder, but not too loud since her grandmother was sleeping.
   “Draco, please,” she moaned, her hips moving against my own.
  “What is it?” I moaned back, “what do you need, baby girl? Tell me.”
   “I-I need you. Please.”
Those words turned me on even more. I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them off, her black matching panties hugged her hips. I hooked my fingers to her lacy panties, pulling them down and revealing her perfect pink cunt. My pants were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second, so I quickly removed them from my body, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the pile. I started kissing her breast, sucking on her nipples, and tracing open mouth kisses against her body until I reached her lower area. The sweet aroma coming from her was intoxicating and I felt drunk from the scent alone.
   I traced my tongue against her already soaking slit causing her to shiver and moan. My tastebuds were coated with her delicious nectar and I couldn’t help but dive in quickly. Her small fingers tangled themselves into my gelled hair, messing up every strand. A list of moans echoed off the walls as I flicked my tongue hungrily over her clit. Maggie tried to close her legs, but I pinned them back down. My gray-blue eyes flickered up, meeting her lustful orbs. She was covering her mouth because she was becoming too loud. Careful not to hurt her, I slipped a single finger between her folds and she flinched. I stopped.
   “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “do you want me to stop?”
  “N-no, it’s okay,” she panted, “i-it’s all just a n-new experience.”
  Nodding, I went back to lapping up her flowing juices and started entering my finger again. This time it slipped in with ease. A few seconds passed and I added another finger, moving them slowly in and out of her.
 “D-Draco, faster.”
I didn’t waste time and started moving my fingers faster and faster into her sex. Her back arched off the couch, I could feel her clenching around my fingers and I could tell she was getting closer and closer to her release. I started sucking on her swollen clit and she yelped out before cumming all over my fingers. I removed them from her then placed them in my mouth, sucking every last drop off of them. Groaning against my fingers, I pulled them out with a pop.
  “Delicious,” I hummed, watching her chest move rapidly as she caught her breath, “have a taste.”
   I captured her lips with mine and rummaged my tongue around her warm mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head making me smile at how undone she looked for me. I pulled away.
  “Doesn’t that taste amazing, sweetheart?” I whispered in her ear.
  All she could do was nod her head. Sweat was beaded against her forehead and her hair was starting to cling to her face, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
  “Ready?” I asked, “and use your words for me.”
  “I-I am,” she muttered, “I-I’m ready.”
  Climbing on top of her, I aligned my hardened member with her entrance before pushing it, peppering kisses against her face as she cried out in pain. Once I was finally nestled inside of her aching cunt, I stayed there to let her adjust to my size. A minute passed by when she gave me the okay to move, then I started moving my hips at a slow pace. Every time I pulled out and pushed back in, I felt myself get squeezed around.
  “God damnit!” I groaned quietly, “so fucking tight. It feels amazing, Maggie.”
  “D-Draco, you’re s-so…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence.
  I started moving faster and harder with each stroke and both of our moans filled the room along with the sound of our sweaty skin slapping against each other. Despite the noise coming from us, we remained quiet enough so we didn’t wake up Grandma Loral.
   Maggie squeezed her eyes shut as I started snapping my hips harder to meet hers. I grabbed her chin with my right hand and pulled her head to meet mine, my lips feathering over her. Her warm breath fanning over my chapped, slightly parted lips.
  “Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby,” I said strictly.
  Maggie’s eyes opened and our eyes stared at one another as I drilled into her repeatedly. Her nails raked into my back causing me to growl at the stinging pain. I lifted one of her legs over my shoulder for a better position, my cock now going deeper into her sweet sex.
   “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moaned, resting my forehead against her, never tearing my eyes away from hers.
  “Oh my God,” she said.
  “Feel good, huh sweetheart,” I praised, “you love being fucked like this.”
I didn’t want to take it too far, afraid that me being rough or even degrading her would cause her to push me away. She was sensitive. But Maggie seemed to love my words and nodded her head furiously as she started meeting my thrust.
  “Yeah you do, fucking slut.”
  Her moans were like music to my ears and I could feel her tightening around my throbbing cock. I wrapped my hand around her throat, not too tightly, her free hand gripping my arm as I practically slammed into her with inhuman speed. I didn’t know what came over me, but everything felt intoxicating and I felt energy rushing through me. 
  “I-I’m going to cum,” she whimpered.
  “Then do it,” I growled against her lips, “cum.”
 Her body started shaking as pure pleasure rushed over her small form. I watched her emerald eyes roll to the back of her head as I continued to slam into her, riding out her high. Our moans got louder, and we didn’t care that we were being loud. If we got caught, we got caught. All that mattered to me was watching her, being with her, loving her.
My thrust started getting sloppy as I felt myself coming to my end. I removed my hand from her throat, letting her lungs collect the well needed air, and buried my head into her sweaty neck. With a few final, strong thrust, I came inside her dripping cunt and moaned in her ear, or more like growled with pleasure. Her body shivered at the sound as she knotted her fingers in my hair. My body collapsed onto her, our chest heaving up and down as we tried to settle down. Once our breathing returned to normal, I pulled myself out of Maggie and laid next to her. I looked at her.
  “Sorry,” I whispered, as I tiredly chuckled, “I didn’t mean to finish inside you.”
She giggled and shook her head, “it’s okay. I’m on birth control, so it’ll be fine.”
  I smiled at her and leaned down to pick up my dress-up shirt. It was cool to the touch and as I cleaned up the mess on Maggie, she closed her eyes enjoying the welcoming, cold cloth. After I cleaned the both of us up with my shirt, I laid back down. Lightning flashed against the sky once again as a loud rumble of thunder hit the clouds. Maggie sat up and cracked the window open, the cool breeze washing over our sweaty bodies. I pulled her into my arms and nuzzled against her.
  “I love you, Maggie,” I whispered.
  “I love you too, Draco,” she said, “now and forever.”
Forever, huh?
  A smile appeared on my face as I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep next to the one girl I would sacrifice everything for. All of the thoughts that once invaded my mind, the unsureness of being with a muggle, how my father would act once he found out, all of it, disappeared. The only thought left was how I would protect her from Voldemort, and if she would still be by my side when she found out I was destined to be a death eater. But all of that could wait. I wanted nothing more than to enjoy the next four days with her.
I’ve never felt so relaxed before.
Forever sounds nice.
142 notes · View notes
polaroid15 · 3 years
Text
Parker Luck
Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.
Read on Ao3 HERE :)
------
Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.
He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.
He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.
For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.
After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.
Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.
But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.
With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.
--------
Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.
Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.
When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.
“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”
Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”
“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”
Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”
“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”
“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”
Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”
And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.
--------
When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.
He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.
This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”
Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”
Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.
His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”
“He’s a good kid.”
“I know.”
“He’s making you soft.”
Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”
“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”
His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”
“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”
And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.
“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.
Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”
---------
It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.
Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.
Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.
“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”
But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.
Tony shoots off into the sky.
---------
Peter thought they had everything under control.
Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.
He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.
“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.
“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”
“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”
“You can say that again.”
The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.
“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”
Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.
“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”
Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”
“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”
Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”
“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”
But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.
Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.
As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”
“But-”
“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”
The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”
“Mr. Stark-”
“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”
And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.
The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.
“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”
And then he’s gone.
Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.
“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”
The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.
“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”
He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.
“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.
“Benny.”
Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”
“I- I know.”
“Oh yeah?”
The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”
“I try too.”
“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.
“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”
“Brave?”
“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”
Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”
“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”
Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”
“Mom!”
Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.
“Of course,” is all he can manage.
Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”
For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”
“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”
He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.
Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.
“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”
Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.
“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”
“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”
“I can try.”
Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”
“No. Tony said-”
“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”
“Peter tingle?”
“Be right back.”
“Wait!”
But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.
Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.
“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.
Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.
“Steve!”
He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”
“Not without you.”
Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.
But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.
“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”
The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.
Then Peter sees it. A manhole.
“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”
Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.
There’s a couple moments of silence.
And then the world erupts.
Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.
He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.
He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.
But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.
And then there’s nothing.
----------
“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”
Awareness brings pain. He strays.
“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”
The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.
It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.
“Thank God,” Steve says.
“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.
“It’s you I’m more worried about.”
“Mm. Why?”
Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.
“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”
Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”
“He’ll be here soon.”
There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.
“What happened?” Peter asks.
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”
Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.
The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.
“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”
Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”
“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”
“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.
“Rogers?”
“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.
“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”
“We’re airtight.”
“For now.”
Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”
“What’s wrong with Peter?”
“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”
Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.
“Rogers-”
“I got it, Tony.”
There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.
“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”
“Go for it.”
There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.
Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.
Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”
“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.
The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.
He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.
“Tony!”
Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.
“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”
“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”
“Peter-”
“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”
Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”
Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.
Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”
“Tony-”
“Go.”
The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.
He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.
Please. Please.
The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.
Please.
It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.
Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.
Tony is safe.
And it’s all that matters.
-------
“Peter. Don’t do this.”
“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”
“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”
“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”
“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”
“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”
“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”
It’s all water down a drain.
A swirling, murky mess.
And it takes Peter with it.
-------
Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.
Love them unconditionally.
Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.
May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.
There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”
Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”
“Has he woken up yet?”
“No.”
Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”
“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”
“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”
Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.
But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.
And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.
“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.
“But it is. It was.”
“I know.”
Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”
And then he leaves.
Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.
But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs.
“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.
“You don’ look angry.”
“Furious?”
“Nope.”
“Enraged?”
Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”
Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.
“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”
“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.
“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.
“That woman is nothing but a liar.”
“Mm. I believe her.”
“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”
Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”
Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
161 notes · View notes
remakethestars · 3 years
Text
Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:
Headcanons.
❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞
— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld
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TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.
Headcanon masterlist.
When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.
You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.
Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.
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Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.
You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.
You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.
There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.
The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.
Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why. 
The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.
If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia. 
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Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.
Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).
When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart. 
It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.
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If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.
You did not want to go to Jon’s school. 
Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats. 
School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.
You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.
If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.
The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions. 
Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.
It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.
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Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.
It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.
There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.
It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.
You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you. 
Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.
After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.
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You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.
Heretic never stood a chance.
He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.
Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.” 
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Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.
Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.
It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.
The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could. 
And it had.
You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.
You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.
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Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”
Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow. 
You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.
You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.” 
He had to know first. He deserved to.
For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.
Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break. 
Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?”
“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.” 
Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.
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When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.
Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up. 
You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol. 
He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.
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He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia. 
“Brother?” 
“Tt. Obviously.” 
Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.
You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.
You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).
(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)
The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba. 
The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?” 
“How’d you know?” you asked. 
“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”
“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.
“He is on the inside.”
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Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?
Visit my headcanon masterlist.
DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!
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