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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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Comfort

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington)

Summary: Mother Nature is a bitch, and well, so are you. Until your boyfriends decide to help out a little…

Pairings: Steddie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,757

Warnings: Language, NSFW, bodily fluids, anxiety, thrupple fighting, blood, period stuff, period sex, vaginal sex, obvious threesome, tooth rotting fluff & comfort, and MORE!

A/N: You know, I can’t ever write a fic with the general idea in mind, and stick to it. I always have to develop additions along the way. Anyways, I’m gonna try and keep this one short, and I hope it makes sense, lol. It started out as comfort and I decided to just go for it, so if period sex/blood in smut is not your thing—AVOID! I also couldn’t decide between the two men, thus I am doing a three way again!

The feedback on She’s Trouble has been immaculate and astounding to me! I thank all of you so much, with all my heart! I’m sorry I couldn’t reply to everyone, it was just a lot! But I saw every comment and tag! 💘🥹

Also, I’m not using tags, because I don’t know who will and will not be comfortable with this kind of content!

I hope y’all enjoy this?! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You tried to be still at the Wheeler’s kitchen table, you really did. Listening to Nancy get lost in a speech about her latest editorial, Robin hyping her up on the sidelines, and the kids throwing popcorn at each other in the living room, with Mike bitching about it getting in the carpet and pissing his mom off. Your heels haven’t touched the floor since you began bouncing your feet about ten minutes ago, fingers fighting twitching urges to staple themselves to your temples. There’s probably a sour look of disgust on your face, but you’re starting to pass that point where do not you care. With the last dousing of humid air over Hawkins, Indiana, you feel as if your entire core temperature is a blazing inferno.

Combine that with the lacking effects your morning shower had to keep you cooled down, and you make for one pissed off person. You roll your eyes at your own dramatic antics, squirming in the seat and causing it to make a shifting squeak. It must be louder than you heard, as Nancy is questioning you. “Hey, you okay, Y/N?”

Dear god in Heaven, why is she drawing attention to me?

You fold your arms across your chest, tucking them neatly, teeth grinding as you force out, “I’m fine, Nance.”

“You don’t look fine. You actually, kinda look like you’re about to puke.” Robin interjects, hand draped across the chair adjacent to yours.

If you could move without that disgusting flood between your legs, then you would probably kill your best-friend for stating the obvious.

“Who’s gonna vomit?” Comes a deep voice that takes his place beside Nancy, who now has her brows knit in concern. Steve.

And wherever he goes, Eddie has followed, as of lately. You’re clenching your lids closed, head bowing, hands resting across your heated cheeks. When you look up, Eddie has that stupid shit eating grin on his face that you can’t decide if you want to punch or kiss. An automatic shared stare is directed your way, making you sink under its observation, nausea growing.

Steve speaks first, noting your disheveled appearance. There’s sweat beading all over your face, tension in your normally relaxed muscles, and you give an air of a trapped animal. He frowns, moving around the table and readying his large hand to place on your forehead. You quickly dart off, waving your hands. “How about no, dude?”

Dude? Since—

“when do you call Harrington a dude, baby?” Eddie cuts Steve’s internal questioning, confusing himself.

“When he starts crowding my personal space, Edward. That’s when.” You snap, Nancy clicking her tongue as the wheels spin in her head and she lands on knowing exactly what is going on with you.

Eddie’s jaw unhinges in a comical pry, hand splaying across his heart. “Okay, now that was just nasty.”

“Um, do I look at all like I care?” Hands on your hips, that crowded anxiety begins tangoing with your hormones, anger seeping from your pores like acid.

You know your mood towards them is irrational, you are too aware. But there’s a devil on your shoulder that goes by Aunt Flo, and she’s getting her kicks by pulling your strings.

“Okay, that’s enough. What is going on with you?” Steve raises his deep voice a few octaves, annoyed and defensive of himself and your shared partner.

Ever-changing moods, guilt swells in your chest, carving out its permanent residence for the next several days. Your vision blurs and you clamber from your seat, apologizing to Robin and Nancy, before walking over to where Eddie and Steve stand side by side, your fingers brushing over their hands, voice barely above a whisper. “M’ sorry. I just wanna go home, please.”

Eddie is perturbed. It was his week to pick out the restaurant for date night, and you’d all planned on driving over there after your excursion at the Wheelers. And now you’re acting like he and Steve are dog shit on your shoes. He’s nauseated.

Nancy is quick to catch you in a hug before you can leave, rubbing up and down your shoulders, her voice by your ear. “They might be guys, but I’m pretty sure they’ll understand if you tell them what’s going on.” She pecks your cheek and gives you another squeeze, sliding back and away, dropping off with an, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

You’ve never been more grateful for her and that mutual understanding.

~*~

The ride back to your house is silent. You’d opted for the backseat of Steve’s BMW, leaving your boyfriends up front with each other, stealing glimpses of your exhausted face in the rear view. When you do arrive at your cul-de-sac, you linger on the door handle, partially expecting them to object to your retreat. Eddie, whom can read you like a fucking textbook he’d studied three times over in school—isn’t having it. You can’t blame him.

“We’re goin’ on the date. You can stay home and mope and bitch at the wall. We’ll bring you somethin’ back later.” He’s got his hands folded across his black t-shirt clad chest, opting to cast his gaze elsewhere as you silently remove yourself from the car, heart being pulverized beneath your breast.

“No, it’s okay. Don’t… just don’t worry about it, yeah?” It comes off jagged and fragmented, versus how you wanted it to sound—reassuring and strong.

You watch them both in the beginning stages of blurred vision. Steve is holding onto the wheel tightly, his expressions fighting for dominance—ones that you can’t decipher in the moment. Anger or defeat, maybe? You nod, at who, you aren’t sure. You wring your fingers together.

“Well, okay. Be safe and have a good time.” As if Aunt Flo didn’t destroy your entire day, she up and leaves you for vacation, obliterating all your previous anger.

Stupid fucking hormonal bitch.

“I love you.” Comes off your lips in a softness that is directed at them both.

Eddie does seek you out then, nostrils flaring, chocolate irises softening. Steve opens and closes his mouth, words caught. You don’t stay behind to embarrass yourself any longer.

~*~

Cramps that are absolutely devouring your insides, you figure that’s a good punishment for your attitude today. Tylenol, nor the heating pad are helping, and your migraine has only worsened since you got off the phone with Nancy and an apologetic Robin, who made enough ‘crimson tide’ jokes to take you into the next century. Smoothing things over with them eased some anxieties, but you can’t stop thinking about how your boys are enjoying the date that Eddie was so excited about. Is it a burger joint that will be followed by chocolate shakes and handcuffs? Or maybe it’s a fancy little pizzeria and some cheap wine, with Eddie’s finest stash and his sinfully gifted mouth?

Whatever it is, it’s your fault that you’re not partaking. Scrubbing a hand across your tear stained eyes, you discard the heating pad and opt for some good ol’ fashioned sulking in your room. However, you don’t make it to the stairs before your front door is being unlocked and opened by the spare key, making you swallow in fear, uncertainty about who is there, until sunsets’ golden hues cast a halo around Steve Harrington’s beautiful face, his form framed in your doorway. His chestnut locks are discombobulated, but those freckles are crystal clear consolations. When he drinks you in, you immediately run into his embrace, his biceps flexing to hold onto the bags in each hand, letting them go, not even seconds later, enfolding you in a cocoon of: aftershave, Eddie’s lingering cigarette smoke, cologne, and freshly washed clothing. Steve.

You bury your face in his baby blue Henley, cheek tickled by wisps of chest hair that peeks out from a few undone buttons. He begins rubbing your back, strong hands kneading that specific tension at your tailbone, a moan dipping off your lips at the muscular relief. You mewl into him, his hands cupping your cheeks as you pull away with closed eyes, head tilted back.

“There we go, honey.” He’s praising, thumbpads scraping your cheekbones, down to your jawline. “What a good-fucking-girl.”

Broken syllables are uttered from you, a diaphragm depth voicing of neglected need, staved off by hormones. Steve knows what words and phrases get your bones dusted to ash, your body a pile of goo. And through a confusing midst, you’re worried about having to turn away his implications. These kinds of sensual conversations always lead to you underneath your boyfriend, cunt stuffed full of his fat cock, tears cooling in your lash line, Eddie encouraging Steve to fuck you just a little past your limit, because that limit is heightened each time. But right at this very moment… you can’t.

You feel the shiver overtake you, and Steve holds you closely again, fingertips striking goosebumps alive along the expanse of your arms.

“Leave me with half the load out here, Harrington. And look at this? Hogging our girl, dude?” Eddie interrupts, a little winded and depositing more grocery bags in your doorway beside Steve’s feet. His repeating your earlier phrase—sans malice or biting sarcasm, it has you grinning, making Eddie help himself to wrapping his arms around you from behind.

Eddie’s spicy and earth scent, cluttered with that cigarette smoke off his fresh pack, it collides into Steve’s, rendering you into that overlapping heap of stupid slut. And your little shits, they know. It’s what has you trying to pull away, remembering your situation. Eddie knocks his knuckles beneath your shirt, caressing and massaging that same spot Steve had pinpointed. You’re whimpering, pleading. “Don’t. I can’t right now, Eds.”

And if you thought Eddie Munson couldn’t surprise you anymore in this lifetime, you’d be damned for eternity. His lips find the shell of your ear, that smirk that causes his teeth to graze your lobe. It works itself off his tongue, hot and offered. “A little blood won’t stop the fun, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen so hard that a protesting sting takes place in the muscles. You want to bury yourself in the floor and never come out, sidestepping their holds and becoming guarded. “How do you even know?”

“Nance,” Steve answers nonchalantly, “we called her when we went back to Eds place after dropping you off.”

“Wait, what about the date?” You’re in a stammering disbelief. “You didn’t let me ruin it, please fucking tell me—“

“Babe, and I mean this in the most respectful of ways,” Eddie says as he steps forward, gripping your shoulders, “can you please stop talking for five minutes and let Harrington’s sweet mouth explain? Besides, no way we were actually gonna go on that date without you.”

Steve smirks. Your brows pinch together and you huff, giving Steve the leeway to continue, meanwhile your heart is swollen with affection at Eddie’s admission. “At first she didn’t want to tell us, saying it wasn’t her place, but then Munson over there wouldn’t quit doing that begging thing he does, and then Robin started in by telling Nance that she can’t imagine his cute puppy eyes in agony, so… yeah.”

“Really?” You snort, shaking your head at your rocker boyfriend.

“Hey! It worked though, didn’t it?” Eddie is grinning, a grin that you most definitely want to kiss. “Found out our girl’s got a case of bein’ on the rag.”

“Must you use that phrase, Eddie?” You wince, your hand resting on your lower abdomen.

Steve remembers the bags and nudges Eddie’s shoulder to help him pick them up and take them into your kitchen. You’re stealing peeks when they’re discarded onto the kitchen counter, like a kid at Christmas time. Steve places his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and using his palms to dig into that ache in your stomach, soothing it.

This guy is a fucking Adonis…

“Go ahead, baby. The stuff is for you. Well, some of it is for the big kid over there.” Steve chortles, Eddie flipping him the bird as he snatches his gummy worms from a sack.

“I don’t deserve it. I was a bitch to you guys.” You are mortified and saddened, hand pausing on the crinkling plastic.

Steve pecks your shoulder blade, pressing his cheek into the curvature of your neck. “Yeah, you were, but it’s not like you didn’t have a reason. And this stuff—total magic. An aphrodisiac to Mother Nature.”

“Nance totally told you guys what I’d need, huh?” You laugh, Steve joining in.

“We still remembered your favorites though. Lots of chocolate, Pringles, half of the gummy worms from Eddie’s bag.” At this, Eddie looks up, candy pinched between his milky white teeth. It’s endearing, really.

“Don’t forget about all the movies we hoarded from your work!” Eddie adds in. “Chick flicks galore, and lotsa horror. Maybe even a porno or two.” He sucks his sticky fingers into his mouth, letting them drop out with a pop.

Steve hums, nipping at your neck. “Let him talk me into bondage this time. He promises we’ll like it.” A kiss is seared into your skin.

You aren’t aware that you’ve began grinding back against Steve, tongue licking across your parched lips, hands shredding the bags’ handle, pupils blown as you watch Eddie, until Steve is groaning and pumping his hips into your backside, beckoning you closer. “Aw, fuck. That’s it, babygirl, rub that ass all over my cock.”

“Too m-messy.” You try, but make zero effort to stop.

“Messes are made to be cleaned, Y/N. You think we’re incapable of doing that?” Eddie is stalking closer, wedging himself between you and the counter, leaving you smashed between your guys. Eddie dips in a bend, then drags his already growing bulge over your clothed cunt. Steve is swelling against your ass, making you a simpering mess. They pass you back and forth in bumping thrusts, each matching the other, dominating your own, their mouths attaching fresh marks across each side of your neck.

You toss your hands back, pulling on two textured sets of hair. “Gotta stop. Fuck, s’ not… I can’t.”

And then they do stop. It makes all the blood rush to your head, dizzy. Eddie’s fingertip nicks your chin, tilting. “Ask us to stop then, Y/N.”

“And we will. You know we will.” Steve is speaking behind you. They share a look of love and strength.

You’re brimmed with an engulfing desire that is smothering every cell of common sense you possess. “I want. I just want…”

“You want Stevie’s cock in that messy little pussy, or mine?” Eddie kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Can’t decide. Need someone.” Oh yeah, you’re a goner.

“Think you’re lucid enough to follow us upstairs and help put some towels down, lover?” Eddie is amused, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

~*~

“That good?” Strong and thick thighs are pressed into the globes of your ass, hair tickling your flesh.

You bury your face into Steve’s freckle littered neck, muttering, legs trembling. “Mhm.”

“She’s so warm, Eds. Wait until you feel how different her pussy is like this.” His pupils are blown into a glossy black, flecks of cinnamon being all that remain of his hazel irises.

You can’t help but to tighten around Steve, legs locking around his waist, tugging him in closer as Eddie drapes himself across your chest and sucks a sensitive nipple into his mouth, cushioning his bites with those plush lips. Steve lets out this feral whimper, stifling it in your neck as he falls forward, driving himself into your overly wet pussy, the blood and arousal making it a slippery, but too easy of a glide. You’ve soaked the towel below, a fascination Eddie can’t take his eyes off of, stroking his cock in time with Steve’s rhythmic movements. That spot is hit inside of you and it’s more intense than you ever remember, making your vision black out, thigh trembling beyond your control. Eddie, patient and awaiting his turn with you, brings your mouth to his for a kiss, his tongue caressing your own in a sloppily slick push.

Saliva strings on the break-away, Eddie’s fondness of you growing. “S’ all tender and soaked inside? Gonna make me feel as good as it’s makin’ Stevie feel?”

You’re trying to nod, but it’s weak. “It’s amazing. You’re both, so fucking good. You’re everything.” You babble on.

Steve lifts his face from the cove of your jugular, licking at your sex-drenched skin. “That’s comfort, baby.”

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dirtytransmasc · 1 year

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Do you have any HC Ronal just mothering spider

I love the idea of ronal seeing this boy who just wants to fit in, want to never stop learning, who strives to be the best he can, and feeding into that as a love language, and also helping him feel like he doesn't have to be like that to be deserving of love and family. aka, most of these are about her becoming almost like a mentor in a way, like a parent mentors their children, but making teaching very personal.

she takes spider out on her Ilu everyday, showing him something new, something important to her. it's personal to them, a time he gets to be held by his mother, spoken to in a soft but wise way he has always imagine a mother would one day speak to him. its a time she gets to hold her new baby, a baby she wishes she had gotten to bond with more in his life, no matter how logically impossible that wish is.

she may have lost her spirit sister, but she makes bringing him to see the tulkun a priority. sign lessons too, working it into everyday life just so he can become fluent. connecting him to his siblings is important to her.

she makes sure he feels included during family meals, sleep piles, going to the family bathing pool, etc. she makes sure he doesn't feel like he's just tagging along, but that he is meant to be there.

she worries about him physically; she knows his human body was never meant for this world, nor half of his normal activities. she pays special attention to his hands and feet, how scarred and calloused they are. she clicks her teeth at his thin frame (even if he's lean with muscle, he's still just so tiny to her, she worries) and the shiny skin on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders (sun damage). she makes a ritual of applying balms and ointmants, treating his hands and feet with oils, feeding him filling meals each and every night.

ronal makes sure to use terms of familial possession and terms of enderment for him. she doesn't use his name often, she typical calls him "yawne" (beloved), "maitan" (my son), or "yawntutsyìp" (darling/little loved one) [keep in mind, these came from the learnnavi site, and I don't know if these are accurate to the metkyina people or their dialect]

nags and disciplines him like any other mother would nag and discipline their children, the boy craves structure, normalcy, motherly love (even in the form of tough love).

I personally hc that ronal isn't the touchiest person, in terms of like hugs and like full body touch, but she's a hand on the shoulder type mom. she's always touching her kids in her own way. she's always has a hand on him, on his back/shoulder, in his hair, holding his arm. he always knows she's there.

speaking of hair, she definitely helps manage that (I think after neteyam he hacks it all of during his mourning period). she makes sure it doesn't dry out and tangle from the salt water, styles it in the traditional metkyina way (with a little help/education from mac and norm, his hair is style more appropriately for his hairtype, cause man have they been waiting for a chance to do that).

she knows that he wants to help, to be of use, but he can't be a hunter due to his body; so she teaches him how to cook and craft, to use the land (cause he has to relearn a lot of stuff in this new territory). she finds he really likes making jewelry and helping cook (both are very communal activities, its done in tight groups, he likes that). she definitely sticks back with him, spending more time doing that over hunting unlike before.

she has multiple beads on her song chord for him; when she first adopted him, the first time he met the tulkun, the first time he called her mom, etc.

#might do a part 2 eventually #cause I can't think of anymore at the moment #but I can feel my brain forming more #anyway #she's such a good mom #she just wants him to feel loved and happy #spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #avatar spider #spider avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2009 #ronal #tonowari #spider tonowari'itan #hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan

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starboywille · 2 years

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I want Kristina to understand Wille better this season. I want Kristina to know how much everything has affected her son and to realize her part in it.

I want Wille to actually tell Kristina more of his feelings for Simon, a simple why can’t I just be with him I just want to be normal isn’t as effective as how Simon makes him feel. How to Simon he’s normal, how Simon makes him feel wanted for who he is when the rest of the world just wants something surface leveled.

Because isn’t that true? Wille to everyone else is a commodity, a means to gain more social standing and power, something to gawk at and idolize. But to Simon? Simon saw another sixteen year old boy who had stupid teeth and floppy hair and who clearly couldn’t sit still even though he was taught to do that from an early age. Simon saw Wille and not Prince Wilhelm.

And I think that’s what Kristina struggles with too, after the loss of Erik — where grief is a very real shroud to how other people feel — and possibly before hand, when Wille was off at another school and out of her sight: separating Wille from the ridged Venere of Prince Wilhelm. Separating her son who she carried and raised and loves to what the world has forced her son to become. He’s just a boy. A scared, heartbroken boy who had his rights and privacy violated.

And I want Kristina to see that he’s still grieving his brother and now he’s grieving a love he didn’t even know he was capable of having, a love just as strong as the one he had — has —for Erik. Simon was something new, something that for all intense and purposes was just Wille’s, something that didn’t have to become Wilhelm’s.

Kristina is without a doubt a grieving mother, she’s broken hearted at the loss of her child and now because of her role in the world is watching as her other child becomes something cold and far removed from the bright baby she watched grow up to a rebellious teenager, to someone experiencing their first love mixed with their first true loss, to a boy lost and angry and withering away. All from the same broken heart that never got a chance to heal. I want Kristina to realize that once she did protect Wille as a child and then Wilhelm as an adult, but by protecting Wilhelm she failed to protect Wille.

I do not think Kristina is a villain. I think she’s a mother who can’t separate herself from her own grief, and a queen who can’t separate her son from his role. I think she needs time and understanding to realize that her son is the last one she’s been gifted and to not squander the gift while he’s still willing to give her a chance.

#wille and Wilhelm are two different people. in this essay I’ll #anyways #i love Thinking #oh so Good At Thinking #young royals #yr #yr netflix #young royals netflix #wilmon #wilmon yr #wilmon young royals #young royals season 2 #writing tag #tate’s writing idk man

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rainesol · 18 days

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Apollyon’s childhood

Made using this prompt sheet

(CWs for child neglect/abuse. The rough parts will be in red)

Simple as, Apollyon wasn’t born. He has zero relatives. He was made using EXTREMELY taboo and illegal magic. It’s very difficult to accomplish, and takes multiple people to do.

Polly doesn’t remember much from his childhood. He can hardly recall his host parents faces, despite last seeing them at 16. His earliest memory would probably be from age six, in his early school years.

Surprisingly little. Disturbingly little. Apollyon sat and stared a lot. Also, changeling infants bite. Imagine the worst place for an infant to randomly grow barbed teeth and bite at. He was bottle-fed.

Apollyon didn’t start speaking until he was four or five. I imagine he went straight to full sentences.

He started walking EARLY. 7ish months?

I imagine later than most kids. Maybe 3/4 years? He didn’t stop wetting the bed until he was ~12.

Yeah. It’d be a little bitten, but it’s his canines you’d worry about. I don’t know when he’d stop using it :0 Either older or younger than average. Apollyon retained similar(?) behaviour into adulthood though. He will suck/chew on his sleeves or hoodie strings when anxious.

Pretty often. And it’d be about anything. Changeling children are designed to react like this more often than a typical human child.

Could probably use a post of its own. He was a lot quieter as a little kid, and then as an older child-young teen he was more volatile.

Very hard. Changelings exist to cause distress in this universe.

Walking. Gets him out of the flat.

No. Going with some myths, he’d have had a decent appetite. He lost it though, and now eats little, as he’s accustomed to.

He taught himself to cook young. He’d normally eat raw ingredients before he could. Like dry pasta.

As a baby/toddler, he’d have trouble going to bed. Currently he’s a bit of an insomniac. He can fall asleep if someone is soothing him to sleep though.

Yeah. He was scared of his host parents and would dream about them. This also meant he couldn’t go to them for comfort. Sometimes he’d stand in their doorway but being a creepy changeling kid, he’d just get yelled at to leave. Sometimes he’d dream about strange cloaked figures in the woods, too. Wonder what that’s about.

Only really the stuff the original child got from the baby shower/pre birth.

Interesting to look at. Like those sparkly water timers.

He found a lost ‘ds’ as a kid. He totally would’ve given it back, but the kids parents just got them a new one the next day, so he took it home and pirated some games for it. He still has it.

Apollyon was physically abused. As a child, he would have had very severe punishments, many of which he wouldn’t have realised weren’t normal (hitting, kneeling on rice/etc, having glassware etc thrown near or at him).

Typical day would depend on if he went to school or not. He’d spend most of the day on in school suspension.

He liked feeding pigeons and ducks. He tries to ignore bad memories. Sometimes to an unhealthy degree. One memory was of him being left in the underground. He waited for hours but his dad never came back. Eventually the police took him home. He was 7.

N/A. I doubt much celebrating happened in his household.

Apollyon had an extremely poor relationship with his host parents. He says that his father was scarier than his mother. He’d be on the receiving end of serious physical and verbal abuse from then until he was ‘big enough to fight back. Then they’d mostly ignore him. However, his adoptive mother (her name’s Maya), has an excellent relationship with him. She’s incredibly kind and understanding with him, and helps heal his poor inner child.

No friends. An acquaintance gave him his industrial piercing, though. He can’t remember her name.

His parents had a bearded dragon. It wasn’t kept very well and they gave it away when he was young.

Casual, comfy stuff. Most of his clothes came from lost and found or charity shops. One time on a non-uniform day someone pointed out he was wearing something they’d donated and he ‘just went home’. Totally not one of my experiences I’ve forced on him lol

Other than teachers, no. They weren’t any help to him. Until the age of 16, ‘every adult in Polly’s life had failed him.’

Public primary/secondary schools. He liked art class. He didn’t like much else.

N/A

I don’t know. Probably not.

Nothing friendly. That. It. Him.

Yeah. He was abused and isolated the whole time. I won’t delve too deep into specific scenarios. He tends to assume everyone just doesn’t like him.

This will probably be updated. I was sleep deprived writing it :(

#he needs a detailed post on how he was as a kid #cws for neglect and abuse. I’ve not gone into a lot of detail but it’s there #asks open #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #apollyon belladonna

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namboobieslover · 10 months

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Kintsugi: the beauty of broken things || MYG

Chapter 3

Summary: Yoongi and Minnie have been friends for quite some time now, almost... 15 years? 15 years since they ran into each other in that music classroom by an unlucky (or not) mistake. They've grown close, but both of them have strong characters and insecurities that will have to be put aside when Minnie falls into her own lie, risking her job in the process. They have 3 days to feel comfortable and make everyone believe their role as the young engaged couple or she is fucked :[

Pairing: musical producer! Yoongi x lab tech/science nerdy! f reader au; non-idol! BTS members make a brief appearance

Genre: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn (?), best friends to fake couple au, constant unresolved sexual tension, two idiots too proud to openly speak but pinning each other

Warnings: use of bad language, mentions of insecurities/low self-esteem, anxiety, trauma; light use of weed, little smut if you scrutinize, SFW

Masterlist: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // ...

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CHAPTER 3: We on, baby.

Word count: 2816

I wake up with a pounding headache as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.

-When will I learn to stop drinking? - I fumble to myself while holding my head between my hands.

Takes me more than it should but I finally get up, my reflection in the bathroom mirror remembering the bad choices of last night.

After a long shower, I feel again like a human being. After brushing my teeth the unsettling feeling in my stomach is gone.

I don't have much time to get ready, so I pick whatever clothing looks comfier and I start my way to the bus stop.

The trip gives me a few minutes to check my smartphone, answering some unread messages from family and friends but especially Yoongi.

The day goes slow, really slow. My eyes hurt when looking at the little samples through the microscope but the silence in the lab is exquisite. 1-1 in cons vs pros.

Even though my mind is a little foggy, it's a good evening. I'm able to keep a stable medium for the cells to grow and it seems like the replication of the environment is going as it should. Also, the culture I did to explore the possibilities of a virus as a treatment is growing nicely. My research is on the right path.

I finish around 9:30 pm thanks to all my good achievements and I'm really hungry.

The place I’ve chosen to order tonight's dinner it's the one with vegetarian burgers near my job; a lot of time has passed since the last time I ate here. I pick my favourite (the delicious plant-based), for Yoongi the one with veal and lastly, a portion of potatoes to share.

-Hi Minnie, how are you today? -the grandma who owns this place asks me- I haven't seen you for a long time; where have you been?

-I've been busy with work lately; my routine has been hectic.

-It's noticeable; you have lost weight and it is unusual to see you with eye bags. Aren’t you resting enough?

-More or less; it's a temporary situation. Hopefully next week things will come to their normal rhythm. But I really missed your food Mrs Lee -I speak honestly while pouting- You are the closest thing to my mother's food in this city.

-And you are my favourite client so please, come visit more even if it's just to have a coffee. I find all your science things interesting, as does my Sandra.

-How is she?

-She is studying every chance she has; your notes have helped her greatly. She also told me that you are available to answer her doubts.

-Yeah of course. It's an honour to be able to help another woman to infiltrate this amazing world that science is. Sadly there are fewer of us than it should be.

-I appreciate that so much… -she gets a little emotional at my words.

-What about you? How is it going with the knee replacement?

-Rest of my body it's still old but that knee seems like it has its own life. My younger grandson, Taeyang, says that I have become a transformer.

After a little more catch-up talk while food is in the making, I start my way to Yoongi’s apartment; 10 minutes away from here.

The walk is nice and feels super fast while listening to my favourite songs. Lately, that has been Namjoon 's latest álbum, Indigo. I swear, that man is a poet hiding behind his hip-hop style and a smoking hot body that seems little when he has a clumsy day. The lyricism of his songs makes my heart flutter and I'll never get tired of telling him.

One good thing about Yoongi's work is the fact that I'm able to meet new artists he is friends with, and learn about other cultures, influences and styles. He always introduces me to them and usually, it is really easy to be part of their little musician group even if I'm not that well instructed in that area. The group we all have is "pussycians" since half of those boys are afraid to let people get to know them (strangely that doesn't apply to one-night stands and I lectured them about it) and I'm a girl + a bunch of musicians boys. As you can tell, the last idea wasn’t mine but from Kim Seokjin, the older of us.

With "Still life" at its maximum level, I finally reach my best friend's door. I struggle a little but when I'm about to open it, it does by itself showing a dishevelled Yoongi. He scares me and I can't hear a word of what he is saying with the earphones on.

-Holy crap Yoongi, you scared me to death -I struggle to say still agitated while taking them off - one day you'll be the reason I end up with a heart attack.

-You were noisy; it's not my fault. You didn't listen because of the music. You'll be deaf before turning thirty if you don't stop using the highest level.

-Don’t you feel like, sometimes, with some songs, listening to them doesn't feel enough to you? Like… I wish every single note were able to enter my brain and scratch it internally till I can't think any more.

-Umm… I guess -he agrees with me a little confused, but entertained.

I enter his house with him closing the front door after me. I go directly to the small table that sits near the sofa; the usual place we eat instead of the main table.

-Which song was that good? -my friend asks while tearing the sleep away from his eyes.

-Namjoon's "Still Life". His latest álbum is incredible; you have hard competition, boy.

-Indigo is cool, but maybe I'm a little more into J-hope's "Jack in the Box". Kinda old school hip-hop, dark, rock vibes… but that's on my taste.

-Same but reverse for me, so I get you. I really like Hobi's main songs and even the intro with all the Pandora thingy or Equal Sign, but it doesn't exactly match my taste as a general artwork.

I unpack the food while talking about it and its smell makes my stomach roar.

-Is this from Mrs Lee's place? -Yoongi asks, finally awakened.

-Yeah. Told me to send you greetings in her name.

-Oh, she is so nice… Is her knee okay?

-Perfect. Little Tae told her that she is now half transformer.

-That kid is my favourite Mrs Lee grandchildren.

-Mine has to be Sandra.

-Of course you love her; she is a little you. Maybe not like you exactly; Sandra is less annoying.

He says that with a serious face, but after feeling my death glare, he can't help but smile arrogantly looking at his burger.

-I'm so glad I spilt on your food; I knew that sooner or later it would be handy and deserved.

-Don't worry honey boo-boo, nothing you do can disgust me -he answers mockingly knowing that I didn't commit such an act.

The rest of the dinner is chill. Some dating show on the TV and a light conversation about our jobs.

Once we finish the delicious food he offers me some dessert but I refuse. A little liquor some friend gifted him? Not that much. But it's understandable; it is a sweet creamy one that tastes heavenly.

-So…going straight to the point: let's talk about the plan.

-Well damn -I say almost choking on the drink- what do you wanna start with?

-Maybe…nicknames? That seems to be easiest between today's tasks -he says looking in a notepad.

-Is that a list?

-Of course. When we talked about it I took notes before forgetting due to alcohol.

-Let me see it.

"Free Minnie"

-I will ignore that name but you are an idiot Yoongles.

-○—○—○—○—○—○—○—○—○—○—○—○

"Free Minnie"

☆ 2-part plan

Day 1:

✅️ Partying together and pretending to be a couple.

✅️ Wearing clothes the other likes.

✅️ Getting used to holding hands and side hugging.

✅️ Getting comfortable being close to each other.

Day 2:

☑️ Accord lovey-dovey nicknames

☑️ Comfortably hug each other/being near/share the same vital space.

☑️ Practice:

Introducing each other

"Love story"

Pecks (????) 🤮🤮

-^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^---^

-Yeah, the nickname issue seems like the best fit for an appetiser. Do you have something in mind? -I answer kinda surpassed by all the tasks for today.

-For me or you?

-Whatever.

-What about calling you “my little pumpkin”?

-Are you kidding?

-No… Isn’t that what partners call each other? Some girls I dated read romance books where they talk like that.

-Well, I don't know. I never had that kind of relationship.

-Me neither.

We erupt in laughter. None of us has ever had a relationship that serious, meaning this stuff is new to us.

-Let’s start with me -I offer as an ice-breaker- I don’t know about what other people like, or you, but I’m not into clinging words. Pumpkin… is too much. I guess the better option is something on the classical side: honey, sweetheart or even Minnie since nobody calls me like that in my working environment. ‘’Babe’’ is acceptable if we feel comfortable enough with it.

-I’m not an affectionate person in speaking terms so…that’s perfect for me, honey.

I feel a slight shiver running down my body.

-Ugh, that felt weird without the sarcastic tone.

-To me too -he laughs- but we have to get used to it in less than 24 hours. Do you want another glass?

Then I realise that my drink is long finished. This liquor is truly dangerous.

-Yeah, this is delicious.

-It was a gift from one of Jimin’s travels. From the northwestern part of Spain if I’m not wrong.

-I envy him so much… he is always travelling.

-That day will come for us too, I’m sure -he declares while handing me the now filled (to the top) vase. He served himself some whiskey.

-You better be right Min Yoongi -I menace while gulping some of the hot liquid- Now… What about you? What are your chosen nicknames?

-It would be incredible if you called me “sexy monster” or something similar. That has one hundred per cent of probabilities to erase any type of doubt.

-If I ever get so drunk that the only option to get me sober is making me puke, repeat that phrase word by word, it will work.

He smacks my arm jokingly.

-Now, on a serious note… I like when you call me Yoongs, Yoongles or Yoon. And that also feels personal, don’t you think?

-Can do the work.

-I feel comfortable with babe or honey/handsome. But not baby; that’s a little cringe.

-I agree. I hate that.

-What’s the worst nickname someone has called you?

-Like… ever?

-Yeah.

-You are not ready for that, and I’m not drunk enough to say it out loud. Ask me later -I answer flustered with a playful wink.

-Don’t worry I won’t forget. Also… you tend to match inversely your lack of shyness with the alcohol level in your blood. This is going to be a fun night.

-Bla, bla, bla. Let’s keep going.

I take a bathroom rest that also allows me to change my contact lenses to the glasses. I don’t feel comfortable wearing them in public, so every day I deal with changing between both at my desk at the office of the lab, all to fulfil my work protocols and also my social anxiety. A routine I got during the pandemic time with the struggle of getting fog in the glasses due to the mask when sudden changes of temperature happen (such as entering a place, the bus…).

-I’m back, babe -I announce funnily stumbling a little with the rug’s verge. Seems like alcohol is silently doing its work- Let’s talk about how you fell in love with me.

He chokes on his drink.

-Yoongles, I was talking about the false love story.

-I know, I know. My brain is working a little slower than usual and it has a lot of things to process.

-I was thinking that keeping it real is the best. The easier, the better. You know how they say that the best lies contain some truth behind them. We can just keep the original first meeting and the school years like they were, but makeup something about college years.

-Like what?

-Aren’t you going to add something?

-Liberal arts -he excuses himself and shrugs- You are the brains, I’m the unpolluted taste. That’s how we always work, sweetheart.

I roll my eyes.

-We can explain that in the urge to reduce expenses, we decided to become flatmates. Living 24/7 made us realise that we are perfect for each other and it was difficult, but we took the step a year after. How many years are socially accepted to date before getting engaged?

-Two? -he answers, as lost as me.

-Maybe… four?

-Isn’t that a lot if we had met in high school?

-That’s true.

-What about three?

-Three is it. Who decided to take the first step in the process from friends to lovers?

-Maybe you? You have 0 patience and probably your colleagues know it… Honey.

-Yeah, sounds like me -I have to admit.

-About establishing a relationship… that fits me better. You are impatient but insecure; you would have a hard time getting the confidence. Same for the engagement?

-First of all: I’m not that insecure -I start getting kind of riled up- Second-

-Before you continue, let me ask you something. For how long have you owned those glasses?

-Mmm… around two years I think.

-Then, how is this one the first time I see you with them?

I don’t have to answer that because he knows.

-If not that, then answer the following: what do you think about yourself? Do you consider yourself pretty?

Is this what a deer caught in the headlights feels like? How can be asking this so suddenly while keeping the calm front that characterizes him? He is so annoying.

-That’s what I thought -it angers me a little to see how sure he is about that premise- Do you want a refill?

I was so nervous that once again I had finished my drink.

-I think I’m ready to try something stronger -I challenge him.

-We on, baby.

A/N: Sorry I've been missing but uni has me on constant house arrest omg. These ones are shorter but we are getting there. Hope you like it and hope you have a good night/evening... Feel free to give some feedback :)

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naomifj97 · 2 years

Text

I’ve been waiting for you

“This is a nightmare. This is not happening. Not so soon, not like this.” Or: Six months after the end of the Blight and eight since her last moment of intimacy with Alistair, Oriana gives birth to Kieran. At the same time, the King dreams with the crying of a baby in the depths of the Fade.

Hello again! Long time no see (read?), so I thought "why not posting another one-shot with huge headcanons? It will be fun". And here we are. So, this follows the saga of my Alistair x The Warden, but as usual it can be read as a stand-alone.

2k one-shot featuring yearning, angst and pain, but also childbirth, Morrigan and the Warden friendship and mother-son bonding. Leliana and Zevran make an appearance too because I love them both. Kinda a song-fic this time, as there are a lot of phrases from the song and because I thought of the fic while listening "I've been waiting for you" from Mamma Mia 2. Hope you enjoy it!

“This is a nightmare. This is not happening. Not so soon, not like this.”

The pain is tearing her apart.

She didn’t give it a great thought when she woke up that morning feeling a small ache in her lower abdomen. She knew, from the Alienage’s midwife, that those things sometimes hurt before the real, huge one really showed up. She knew it was normal. She knew it was some kind of drill her body was supposed to go through before…everything, to prepare her.

It was not supposed to happen this early either.

But once again, when has her life gone like it was supposed to?

Oriana is almost sure this is another joke the Destiny makes at her expense.

But oh boy, how she wishes she had worried a bit more. Wishes she had known better.

“This is a nightmare. This is not happening. Not so soon, not like this.”

Another slice of pain cuts right through her, forcing her to stop on her tracks. She holds onto the chair’s back until her knuckles turns white. With great effort, she manages to hold back the scream, though she can’t help but grunting. At her feet, Barkspawn whines, worried.

—I thought after defeating an Archdemon this would be a walk for you…

—Morrigan, shut the fuck up —she hisses between clenched teeth.

Morrigan shrugs, unaffected by her harshness.

—‘Tis the pain speaking, me knows.

It is. But Oriana will cut off her tongue before admitting it right now.

—You could very well have been in my place, you know —she mutters, instead.

—And right now I’m very grateful I didn’t had to.

Oriana wants to reply, and something not very nice, but another wave of pain forces her to tense.

“This is a nightmare. This is not happening. Not so soon, not like this.”

She’s lost count how many times she has thought that since her water broke hours ago.

She wonders how much longer this is gonna go.

The King has been uneasy today. It’s not like he can stay still for long, that’s true, but today Alistair has been even more fidgeting than usual. He has not listened to a word his advisors have say, not caught Anora’s suspicious glance as she follows his trails with her big, inquisitive, blue eyes, and has worn down the rug that covers his study by wandering over it non-stop the whole day.

He knows something’s wrong with him.

He’s been feeling it since he woke up that morning: the strange urge to be somewhere else, the pounding in his veins that tells him he’s missing something. Something important. He’s sure somebody needs him. But he can’t put his finger on why.

He’s nervous yet he has no reason to.

Leliana and Zevran arrive at midday.

By then, Oriana has stopped walking around the hut because the pain no longer allows her to stay up for long.

Morrigan watches, sitting near the fire, pretending she’s not worried; when she sees them, she lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

Leliana immediately takes care of the situation: places Zevran and Barkspawn in guard duty, wary to every single change in the Korcari Wilds, asks Morrigan to boil water, and reaches to Oriana with soft words and soothing voice. She checks on her, with the experience a few births in Lothering have granted her, and determines she’s only half way there.

Sitting on the bed, Oriana sighs, brushing away the sweat of her forehead with a sleeve soaked to the core. Out of nowhere, Morrigan’s hand appears at her side and starts refreshing her face with a cloth damped in water, more gently than one would have expected her to.

Grateful and guilt-ridden, Oriana turns to her.

—I’m sorry I snapped at you.

Morrigan shakes her head.

—‘Tis fine. I will remember and hold it against you every single day for the rest of your short life.

Despite the pain, and the situation, and the witch’s seriousness when she says those words, Oriana chuckles.

—Sounds quite legit to me.

Morrigan nods, satisfied. Then, she hesitates.

—I think I’d had burned the house to the ground already, was I in your position.

Being nice is hard for the witch, and Oriana knows it, so she cherishes Morrigan’s attempt, even if it’s a bit clumsy, even if it involves burning things. And so, the warden smiles, voice cracking and exhausted:

—Thank you.

It’s not just that moment she’s thanking. Oriana wants to thank the witch for everything she’s done those past six months: letting her hide in her mother’s hut, staying with her despite her plans to run away from Ferelden, putting up with a version of herself neither of them recognize. But she’s a bit out of breath, and her insides clutch once again, stopping her from talking any further.

It doesn’t matter. Morrigan understands. Without a word, the Witch of the Wilds takes her friend’s hand and allows her to squeeze as hard as she needs. She doesn’t complain once.

Zevran is pacing outside the hut when the screams start.

The first one is so primal that startles him. Around him, the few animals that dare to wander this deep in the wilds run away, terrified of the sound. He can’t blame them. He’s heard a lot of screams in his life, but nothing like that. It’s raw and full of agony, like the world’s very own fabric is tearing apart. Maybe it is.

That child his friend is birthing is no ordinary child, after all.

Barkspawn looks up at him with a dread ancient as Andraste herself; his deep black eyes are moist and flooded with worry.

Zevran worries too, of course he worries, and part of him wants to rush in, make sure the first friend he’s done in so long is alright. But he refrains himself, because Leliana and Morrigan are with her, and Oriana needs him standing guard, not fluttering nervously around her.

So, he stays in his place, patting the dog on the head, and shrinks with every single shriek.

Oriana is gonna lose her voice. She’s certain of it. She hasn’t yelled so hard in her entire life, not even when her life crumbled to pieces the first time, or the second, or the third.

She’s yelling for all those times she didn’t. She’s yelling for all the days of loneliness, all the pain suffered, all the absence.

She’s grateful for Leliana, and for Morrigan. She really is. But, in her lowest point, she wants more. She wants someone who actually knows what she’s going through. She wants her mother, who birthed her in a dark, cloudy afternoon with the only help of a midwife and her husband. She wants her father, who was the first to hold her and has given her a hand to stand up every time she’s fallen.

And she wants him. She wants him so badly she’s sure that wanting is adding layers to her suffering. She wants him holding her as her whole body crumbles in pain, kissing her temple and whispering words of encouragement. She wants him even if the thought of him still makes her cry.

He should have been there. He should have known. If things were different, he would have. But this is all she has now.

She wonders if childbirth is always this painful or the nature of her child is making it more difficult than it has to.

She’s sure she’s never gonna figure it out.

Alistair is dreaming.

He knows it because he’s in the Fade. He is not really aware of it at first, but then his body recognizes the unnatural fog and that strange, sugary smell, and the weird colors surrounding him, distorting an ever-changing reality.

And then, he hears it.

He hears her.

The scream is so terrifying it freezes the blood in his veins.

Oriana.

Every single fiber if his being is shaken to the core.

She yells again, a sound of despair and agony that is born in the deepest of her soul, and he feels himself losing foot. He’s never heard her scream like this. Is agonizing. Is devastating. Is unbearable.

He recognizes the fear, the same paralyzing terror of seeing her charging against the Archdemon while he stands hopeless, knowing she’s going to die.

Not this time. This time he’s not gonna stand aside and do nothing.

He does not think twice. He starts running. With his heart in his mouth and the pulse in his temples, Alistair follows the trail of her cries through the depths of the Fade.

Oriana is one breath away of giving up.

What happens when you give up on your own life?, she wonders. What happens when you give up while you’re birthing a child?

Every cell in her body hurts. Her blood may be boiling in her veins like it did after the Archdemon, when the magic inside her fought the taint of the fallen dragon to make sure the soul stayed but the corruption left.

Outside, the night has fallen.

The candles inside the hut are fading, Leliana is kneeling in front of her, her hands in her knees, encouraging her to push, but Oriana is barely listening.

She’s known love before. The kind of love that makes your head explode and your heart run fast. The kind of love that thrills you, delights you, pleases you, excites you. The kind of love that changes your life.

And all it’s done is ruin her.

What is this going to do?

She’s one breath away of slipping. Like she has done countless times those past months. She does not want to be alone with a baby that may be a walking image of their father. She’s tired of being in charge, tired of being responsible of others, tired of being alone.

She wants him. She misses him. She loves him.

—I wish he were here.

She only realizes she’s said it out loud when Morrigan’s hand, inside her own, trembles. It’s pathetic, and there’s no use of missing Alistair now, Oriana knows, but she can’t help it. Even if she has spent the last six months making sure he didn’t find out. Find her.

But she’s tired, and broken-hearted, and she’s been in labor for twelve hours, so a bit of weakness is allowed.

Morrigan seems to think the same thing, because, for the first time since they know each other, she refrains her viperine tongue.

—I know. But you’re on your own now.

She’s right. Oriana is on her own now.

And that little one inside of her, who may or not may inherit their father’s smile, dorkiness and big heart, all those things Oriana fell in love with, needs her. Because she’s all they have, and they are all she has left.

She can’t give up. Not on her child, not on herself. Not now, not ever.

So, she pushes.

He keeps hearing her. Screaming in pain. Calling for him. But no matter how much he runs, he never reaches her.

Alistair refuses to give up. Not this time. He’s out of breath, and his legs are heavy, shaking with tiredness from running without rest, but he won’t stop. He failed her once and he just can’t do it again. Maybe this time things will be different. He has to hope.

He’s running through the mist as her cries echoes in his head. He runs through Fort Drakon, her Alienage and Denerim, through Orzammar, the Deep Roads and the Brecilian Forest. He runs over the Broken Circle Tower, the solitary Redcliffe and the devastated Lothering. He passes by their abandoned camp and the ruins of Ostagar.

He calls her name like a convict pleas for mercy.

But as he reaches the Wilds, the Fade shakes, like the world has been pushed off its natural axis.

And then, everything changes.

He stops in his trails, confused.

Because the next cry he hears is not the screaming of the woman he loves. Is a wild, irritated, child-like cry.

It’s the cry of a baby.

Her face is covered in sweat of hard labor and tears of pain, but she keeps going. Her legs feel numb and she’s sure her abdomen will never recover from this, but she doesn’t yield. Every labored breath she takes feels like her chest is on fire, but she keeps breathing.

This is the hardest thing she’s ever done. But Leliana instructs her to push again and Oriana pushes. She crushes Morrigan’s hand while she does it, clenched teeth and eyes firmly shut. Leliana cheers on her, tells her beyond excited she’s seeing a dark-haired little head making its way out of her. Morrigan uses her spare hand to rub her tensed shoulders and tells her it’s almost over, soon it will be over. And Oriana holds onto their words like they’re her only lifeline. That’s all she needs to keep going. The contractions allow her a last second of rest before the grand finale.

The last one arrives. Leliana tells her to push with all her strength, and Oriana complies with the few forces she has left. She breathes in, breathes out, and realizes this is it.

For a second, while she exhales, the world holds a breath.

She cries, a long, agonic cry, for the last time, and then someone else cries for the first.

The same world that has been holding its breath stops to welcome a child with the soul of an Old God.

And at the same time Oriana collapses against the headboard of a bed in Flemeth’s hut, exhausted, Alistair wakes up in his own in Denerim, startled and confused, with a wound of longing and regret in his chest.

Their baby slips to Leliana’s waiting arms, crying, tossing and fussing. The bard chuckles, welcoming the little one while she wipes away the blood.

—It’s a boy —she announces, before placing him in the waiting arms of his mother.

Oriana is shaking from head to toes, but her holding of her son is firm, strong and safe. She holds him close against her chest and stares at him, amazed and relieved. Those past months have been plagued with nightmares in which she gave birth to a ghoul or a monstruous hybrid between elf, human and darkspawn. She’s been terrified, filled with fear and uncertainty, of what she was going to see in her child when she birthed him.

But no. The baby in her arms is a beautiful, innocent, pure thing. There’s nothing sinister or creepy in him: he’s just a normal boy, fuzzing and making soft coos while he stretches against her breast.

He’s gorgeous. Perfect. So beautiful. She sees herself in his pointy, graceful nose, in his tanned skin, in the darkness of his hair. He’s a bit small for a newborn, but somehow, she knows he’ll make it. He cries with a strength she has not seen in anyone else.

Oriana is entranced and she knows it. Smiling, she leans in and kisses her child’s forehead, breathing in deeply.

—Hey…hello, little one.

And then he opens his eyes and she shreds a small tear because the resemblance is undeniable. She smiles sadly, quietly whispering a small confidence between her and her son:

—You have your father’s eyes.

As if he has understood her, the baby shakes his tiny hand and captures one of her fingers inside his palm.

She thought she knew what love was. She was sure, when she met Alistair, when she fell for him, that she had understood what loving someone with all your heart is.

She thought she knew all about love. But this is a new kind, a totally different one, strange and foreign, still equally powerful.

The child, her child coos, and she knows her loneliness is over.

She looks at him and realizes she has been waiting for him all along.

—I’ll be a good mom. I swear.

And Oriana Tabris always fulfills her promises.

A/N: I'm a sucker for the whole "What if Kieran is female Warden's and Alistair's child", can't help it, so I'm totally going down with that. Also, I really, really hope Morrigan is on character because despite how much I love her I find her terribly difficult to write.

Hope you like it! (Please excuse grammar mistakes and typos, English is not my first language and sometimes it kinda shows!)

#alistair x tabris #alistair x warden #dragon age fic #dragon age art #dragon age origins #dragon age oc #dragon age #dao warden #alistair theirin #one shot #oneshot #hero of ferelden #dao fic #oriana tabris #alistair x oriana #old god baby

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augment-techs · 2 years

Note

OHHH! For the Alphabet asks: Ollie/Aiyon+U, P, D, O, G, A?

(I am assuming this is the one I just put out. If not, I apologize.) Unmovable: Ollie does not believe in things outside of logic, but he is not entirely able to remove the possibility that he can be wrong. His code is: believe half of what you see and none of what you hear. Aiyon if a firm believer and immovable warrior in the creed of doing good for the sake of good, and only doing bad for the sake of more good. Two lefts don’t make a right, but three rights and a left is not without its necessity. Penance: Aiyon doesn’t let things build up. If he feels guilty or even a little bad about something, he’ll do his best to rectify it. He might fuck up, but he’ll do the best he can. Ollie absolutely has guilt about things. He feels guilty for not being able to apologize a lot of the time for things he’s said that have hurt people. He feels like maybe he’s not the best fit for being a Blue Ranger given the history of the people in the position. He feels like even if he did apologize for being wrong, it wouldn’t matter, because people made up their mind about him a long time ago. Disorders: You can’t escape the fate Aiyon has experienced without a heaping helping of PTSD in some form or another. True, it doesn’t manifest as much or as often in him as it does in, say, Zayto, but it does pop up its ugly little head. Usually when he’s have a spot-on good time with his current team and calls one of them by the wrong name, gets a look from his best friend, his boyfriend, the siblings, and then hides himself away for a good hour after crying under his bed. Ollie...oh, boy, Ollie. Let us count: low self-esteem from an inability to hold onto people because he has to be right; probably neurodivergent, which made his mother super protective in a way that was more of a hindrance than a help; hyper-sensory issues; possibly OCD manifesting in cleanliness as a shitty bonus. Oral Fixation/Fetish: Ollie lost most of his baby teeth by chewing on the hems of his shirts, his eating utensils, the palm of his hand, and drinking straws. His mother finally lost her shit when he started going at rock solid ice and cracked a wisdom tooth he had to take out anyway, but still; and bought him wheat straws and toothpicks that he’s been using ever since. Aiyon is very orally fixated in relationships. He will suck on anything put in his mouth--especially tongue and lips and, you guessed it, cock. Gender Themes: Nothing would really change whether Ollie was male/female/xi oriented. Still stubborn, still certain of their own rightness, still insufferable to most people unless they hung around long enough to get to know them. Honestly, the only difference would be the length of the heels worn and maaaaaaaybe nipple rings. Aiyon doesn’t understand the question. A/B/O Designations: Ollie would most definitely be a Sigma (for those who don’t know: a dominant Omega sub-type). He takes so much time to get used to, he’s so difficult, it’s hard to see him as a “normal” type in a hierarchy. Yes, he would go into heat, yes he would need to have sex; no he would not grovel for an Alpha, and no, he would not take knotting very well. Smells like a houseplant after a morning spray. As the team’s Sixth, this makes Aiyon a shoe-in for a Gamma. Humans and alien customs are a little different, much like animals and fish, so he is not a hyper elite fighter with macho bullshit holding him back, and he is not submissive in the face of someone “better than him” in domestic settings. He is pleasant and kind where it counts, and will bulldoze the shit out of someone who deserves it. Also, he can and will knot, but prefers cuddling. Smells like burnt sage and the match that lit it.

#ask fill #sexy ask #power ranger dino fury #Ollie Akana x Aiyon #A/B/O vs G/D/S #Gender #boom! comics power rangers #Gold Ranger #Blue Ranger

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macksartblock · 2 months

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your tags on the post about willy’s proposition to the teens are actually the saddest things i’ve ever read . normal still had his baby teeth and lost his mother . oh my god how can you do this to me /lh

It has been slowly killing me since I finished todays episode I had to get it out or I fear I would’ve been poisoned to death by the thought

#cut to me on the floor sobbing

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loominggaia · 2 years

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Anonymous asked:

Thanks for answering my previous question on Javaans kid. So we got Chance and Jeni as “what if” kids, so how about one more set of Good Guys become parents? Jeimos and Linde. Let’s say after so many years of insecurity and saving up Jeimos has finally gotten their gender transmution, having the male body they always wanted. Jeimos and Linde “celebrate” this achievement by giving their new body a test run. Little did either of them know that Jeimos transmution was a lot more successful then

They first believed! Afew months after the transmution Linde starts developing odd symptoms like morning sickness, bloating, swollen ankles and all that stuff? How do our Icy and Spicy elves react to the pregnancy? How does the crew react? And what kinda parents would Linde and Jeimos make and what would their baby be like?

Anon, you are not going to believe this, but I actually considered this EXACT idea for the series! I never did make up my mind on whether it should happen or not, but a rough draft has been sitting around in my scraps folder for a while. That’s so funny, it’s like you crawled right into my brain lmao

Currently, Jeimos and Linde sort of do have a “child” and that’s Zacry. Zacry is a Zareenite combat robot that Jeimos disassembled and rebuilt to make it more eco-friendly, but as a tradeoff it lost all of its combat capabilities and became childlike in its intelligence. Jeimos may have done most of the work, but Linde was beside them helping every step of the way, so they consider Zacry a joint creation. Jeimos goes so far as to call Linde “mummy” when referring to Linde around Zacry, treating it much like a real child. Because it was “born” from their hands, Jeimos has developed an affectionate sense of parental duty towards it. I think Linde feels the same way, but maybe not as strongly. She doesn’t understand robots and still feels a little uneasy around it.

Now if they had a real, flesh-and-blood child...

This is where Jeimos would struggle because Jeimos doesn’t understand people. They had no siblings or friends growing up, their social skills are poor, and frankly they know nothing about child-rearing. What Jeimos understands is machines, so they do well with rearing Zacry. But I think a living child would stress them out a lot. They’d get overwhelmed easily and push a lot of the parenting duties on Linde.

Conversely, this is where Linde would do quite well. She didn’t have siblings either, but she’s a social butterfly who’s really attuned to peoples’ emotions. I think she’s always wanted to have kids, but was just never in a position to settle down and do so. If she did give birth, she would become very fastidious about raising this kid to the point of going overboard. No playing with toy weapons, that promotes violence! No playing with dolls, it promotes sexist gender roles! No eating junk food, it rots the teeth! Stuff like that. She’d be one of those touchy-feely granola moms who promotes “creativity” but in an ironically stifling way.

She’d probably quit her job as a mercenary to be a full-time mom and give her kid the most normal childhood possible. Of course, living in Drifter’s Hollow, there’s no way “normal” is going to happen. The kid will be surrounded by the Freelance Good Guys, and despite how much Linde tells them not to, they’re going to roughhouse with this child daily, give them junk food and alcohol, and teach them all kinds of cuss words.

I think ultimately, Linde would be a lot like her mother, Riona, and Jeimos would be a lot like their father, Ojio. Ojio was awkward towards Jeimos and shut away in his workshop most of the time, but he did show concern for them and was even willing to risk his life bribing a Damijani doctor to prevent Jeimos from being reported for drug use. Meanwhile Riona was pushy and overbearing towards Linde, but it was only because she cared and wanted the best for her. She worked her ass off to pay for private school just so Linde wouldn’t get bullied for her albinism.

As for how their child would turn out as an adult...who even knows? I can imagine them being rebellious like Jeimos, but more spunky and social like Linde. They’d probably be a bit stuck-up too, and a know-it-all. They’d be genuinely smart, but kind of a dick about it. They’d probably tinker around with their big brother, Zacry, and outfit it with all kinds of crazy mods for fun.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

#ask #askwhatif #askliterature #askjeimos #asklinde

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soulyoh · 5 months

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Personal Buttfuck Rant

Mommy I don't hate you but sometimes I wish I never met you

im mentally unwell

My mother's solution is all fiber diet and tiktok hacks on stole random spiritual shit that originally came from India! Or Facebook posts about the words of God again

I'm just sitting here in the living room trying get strength again to feed my dog Eros and my older brother who's disabled can't feed himself. She hasn't feed him in awhile but gets mad I don't feed him 3 times a day it's like bro I am mentally not well I can't even tell it's Saturday or Tuesday anymore

My sanity is just me not passing out every time get up to actually use the bathroom for once.

I'm reaching out to therapist and shit but uhhh I don't want get ambushed again with the cult mentality of God has chosen you to be his warrior. Mother I crave violence and I miss being 13 years old tasting the blood in the air running down my nose, it's between my teeth as well, the blood between my nails I'm hell.

Mother I miss be 16 bashing my head in to prove a point to all of you to the family! To leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to go church anymore! Kicking and screaming I hate all you I'm hell itself trying fight all you as you drag me down then force my into the stupid car to hear false promises of man who birth many sons and girls but my aunt wants be to marry the pastor's son and in the hand I want spat in her face and punch his face in to bloody pulp.

Mother went I'm 18 years old and very uncomfortable and unwell with life you bitch bitch and corner me in the bathroom forced yourself into in their whole I try take a fucking shit for guess what half my money from financial aid money because you owe you said you keep doing it so often you corner me shaking me roughly then making rumors about me trying kill you and hurt you for money. But magically you never did that I'm making that up

19 to 20 mother I told you I think I lost my baby instead you used my ex's name so much for a long time that saying his name triggered me into a crying mess throwing up on myself and lastly went my gallbladder was fucking up I thought about my ex boyfriend's name and had to retrain myself not going to a spiral of mess like back then but if I met him again no I didn't because he is died to me like that unborn child.

Now I'm 24 useless, hollow, burnout, used cigarette, and waste of broke condom that was never used in the first place.

Daddy are my issues

You the reason why didn't start fighting back until was 12 years old

Father when I blackout or only see red I don't remember what the things i have done but I always taste blood somehow

Everyone is disgusted by me for what I did for "survival"

I just hate my own face still

I hate my country I say fuck them I say but they don't hear the tears of how did you all failed me so often

She's just a bitch I remember you and mom saying that about me your only"daughter" after I hide myself from your both until you fell asleep to not get beating of my life of asking why can't I date girls like the others

I'm so mad- I was mad

Now I'm nothing

I'm 24: nothing- wasting away they'll say

Liberal bitch who doesn't shave probably my father's greatest fear

A mooch without a plan or without a husband my mom's greatest concern

I'm not well

I'm not happy

I want forgive you both now but I don't want you ever around me again because my child self afraid of y'all still

MY teen self wants everyone burn the fuck up in hell if not I'm burning all of us even the children down with me because that's rage, baby?

I'm sorry I couldn't be your son or daughter

I'm sorry that my brain might be filled with trauma, commitment issues, anxiety in my DNA, other scary things like BPD or autism. I go that's normal that's part of life we just built different versions of ourselves and humans are supposed to normal or perfect. I'm sorry you hate psychology and the truth that people who are just "built different" deserve to be treated like human beings with rights but instead of being responsible or reasonable you say just get over it. I'm making shit up and I'm in delusional hypocrisy hysterics of a female mind and brain.

To that I say fuck you

I do whatever I want but I can't go living like this anymore. I want change and I don't want hurt people like you weren't supposed to. Because it hurts it hurt but pain ain't forever they say but I'm living in it everyday.

I became my parents. I destroyed lives because they hurt me first and I said nah I can't deal with that because I live with that back home. So I killed them metaphorically even if I had play them if I was their friend or girlfriend first. I don't understand why they hurt me too sometimes I just want to be that weird art child and in my own world but no. You made my mistake and mission to destroy all of you . In end it doesn't matter because now I'm here taking all the blame like always because mommy and daddy made me the perfect victim always.

But no more. I'm going try get I guess stable and try not lose myself in the love you I will never get from you. I'm sorry mom that I didn't want be your copy and marry myself off at 18. Sorry dad I didn't let you make me into your perfect woman in hopes you could try fuck me or something disgusting like that because you're a sick fuck. I hated you. But now dude I pity the fuck out of you, you really don't believe I'm your daughter still even if we got DNA test that's sickening.

I love you mom but in the next life I don't want you have hell I want you love yourself and not rush into marriage again. Please have kids if you're mentally prepared too.

Father I will see in the flames when the world ends and get ready to fight you bitch if it's not me I hope you remember to dodge because if it ain't me. I swear it will a version of me or something else just like me to make sure you remember what you did to me not only me but all the women you bear, hurt, and used in your pathetic life.

#rant post #female rage #rage #letting go #letting my thoughts out #forgive myself #feelings #angst #18+ content

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astraymetronome · 1 year

Text

Family Comes From Many Seed

Summary

Midoriya Izuku knew he was weird, it had been burned into his brain from the moment he entered this world: most parents whispered about it, his mom reminded him about it, his dad left because of it, and Kacchan teased him for it. He spent the first six years of his life being reminded how he was a strange little boy who couldn’t even get being a child right. Now, this strange man chose him, after some convincing. He wanted the weird little kid no one cared for, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Izuku didn’t understand him, but Aizawa didn’t seem too keen on leaving.

_________

After years of being treated like the dirt people walk on, Izuku suddenly has to deal with being removed from the only home he knows and being taken in by a strange man. He doesn’t feel like dirt with him, maybe Aizawa is a good sign?

Notes

For writerllofllworlds.

This is written for cre8ive.mango, writerllofllworlds, from TikTok based on their Little Sprout Au. This is also my own perception of the idea they have shown, so please do not become upset. I also love Momma Inko but I tried writing this with Dead Inko and couldn’t manage it.

Also, this has descriptions of verbal and physical abuse. Please do not read this if you can not handle that. If you are gonna go past my extra warning then be prepared for the longest one-shot I've posted on this site.

Here is a playlist I made for the story!

Word Count - 10, 533

From the moment he was born, Izuku knew he was different. His teeth grew slower, his shoes never fit right, and even his doctors said his body was different. He didn’t understand why it made him different but everyone else seemed to agree this was wrong. His auntie would make little comments on how he seemed to have a little too much baby fat, mentioning how Kacchan already lost most of his by the age of three. He didn’t understand why that was so weird.

His mom said she’d been a chunky toddler and that it didn’t mean anything, but his dad thought otherwise. It was just one of the many things that led to him leaving. Around Kacchan’s fourth birthday, the blonde’s quirk came in and everyone seemed to be expecting he would get one just as soon. Honestly, Izuku just thought Kacchan’s pops were cool. The sparks of light reminded him of his dad’s fire breathing but he really wanted to get his mom’s quirk.

His mom could pull small things towards her and honestly, it was the best thing ever. She used to ramble about how she could pick him up with her quirk when he was a newborn. He thought it was amazing then but, now, he realizes it wasn’t very safe for a baby. Her quirk would be less destructive than his father’s and honestly, he preferred being safe.

Only… His third birthday came and passed, with no signs of his quirk. He remembered her taking him to the doctor in December during the break and being told to be patient. His dad refused and his mom seemed to as well. His parents had developed their quirks early, Hisashi had been born with his, and Inko’s had developed when she was two. They both thought it made sense for him to develop his quirk just as soon.

Izuku was compliant with the x-ray, blood tests, and urine samples. He thought it was weird but Momma said it was for a reason, so he did as he was told. They said a bone in his foot meant he wouldn’t develop a quirk, but he showed signs of quirked cells in his blood. He didn’t understand how it worked but they kept saying he wasn’t gonna get a quirk. He would be anything but normal, no matter how hard he tried.

When they returned home from the appointment, his mom immediately sent him to his room. He felt so confused and conflicted with everything he just listened to her. He hid away in his room, passing by his father who watched him expectantly, before turning to his mother. He closed the door slowly, even though he was still so little he knew how to occupy himself since mom and dad were busy a lot but the whispers of words through the walls got louder in moments. He had curled up in his bed, hiding under all his blankets and clutching his All Might plush close to his chest, trying to ignore the harsh words his parents exchanged.

Their couplet of voices blended into one beast, for what felt like hours, before a slam and a small crash ended it in mere seconds. The silence made his ears ring with how it filled their still apartment. He could hear the people upstairs walking and speaking, clearly concerned about all the noise. Izuku took a few minutes before sitting up and slipping off his bed. He held back a small whimper as his bare feet touched the carpet, not wanting the floor underneath to creek.

He slipped the door open, peeking out the door, seeing his mother sitting on the floor in front of the genkan with her face bright red and puffy. Concern flooded any form of fear as he stumbled forward towards her, his small thuds making her gaze shift to him. “M-Momma… I-i’m sorry I-”

“Don’t say another word.” His mother’s voice interrupted in a harsh whisper. He began to tremble in response as he froze up and brought his outstretched hand to his chest.

“But…” Izuku continued as she looked at him. Her bright eyes seemed dull, angry, no longer holding the kindness she usually bled with. It was frightening and her sharpening glare made him stop mid-sentence

“Go.” She said softly at first, the tension clear in her quaking voice, making him stumble back at the harshness. He wasn’t used to being spoken to with so much hate. He felt tears threaten his eyes, hesitating to step away despite how threatening the atmosphere had become. He watched as her body straightened, her eyes getting more pointed and upset.

“Do what I say Izuku!” His mom quickly shouted, he didn’t expect a shard of a broken vase to be thrown in his direction. He curled in on himself instinctively, a flash of pain entering his dominant hand before it covered his face. He looked down at his hand with a small whimper. He watched as his mom’s eyes widened and bright red dripped from his palm. There was a gash on the side of his hand, just under his pinkie but not too far down.

He felt completely frightened as he stared in horror at the injury before bursting into sobs as he rushed towards his bedroom. He didn’t pay any attention to his mom but he heard her speak up. “I- I’m-” Her voice was panicked at first, full of shock before it shifted, her anger starting to bubble up as it became harsher. “D-don’t act like this is my fault! You should have listened to me!”

Izuku closed the door behind him as he slid down to the carpet, holding his bleeding hand to his chest as he cried. He didn’t know how to take care of wounds but he knew he needed bandages. Sobs left him as he pinned his back against the door and listened to her heavy footsteps. The sounds thudded loudly and almost overwhelmed his noises as he moved to crawl towards his desk. Momma had always made sure he kept some medical stuff in his room, wanting him to have some just in case.

He took some of the big bandages and wrapped the wound with it. He was shakily crying as he looked down at his floor, the small blood drops already staining the light blue carpet. He curled up under his window, eyes watching the front door as he shook from his adrenaline. He stayed like this until his mother slipped the door open

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry Izuku.” She started as she stepped into his room. He watched as she made her way over to him, a whimper leaving him as she cried a little bit. He ended up letting her take care of his wound while she apologized the entire time. He had no idea this was the start of the worst years of his life.

________

Izuku was pretty used to everything after all these years, it probably seemed dumb or like an overreaction. He’s been dealing with the drinking, verbal, and physical abuse since he was almost three so it made sense to adapt to it. He has always been a pretty smart kid and quick to come to a solution. At least, that's what his mom used to say.

His father had left after his appointment, not wanting a quirkless son. His mom was pretty pissed about it so she took to drinking. When she wasn’t… out of it, she cared for him. He loved his mom and she did too but… When she got intoxicated she always flipped a switch, she would yell and cry before either going to bed or getting more upset and switching to violence. She often apologized in the morning after everything and would tend to any wounds he had but she’d go to work and then the cycle would repeat once she got home.

His daycare never seemed to care about the bandages, after all, his mom was a hard-working woman whose husband left. Why would she take it out on her kid? When he moved to elementary school, he was treated rather negatively, his quirk still hadn’t developed and he, seemingly, showed no signs of one either. So it wasn’t a surprise he was considered an outcast.

Underneath everything, Izuku knew what his mom was doing was wrong. Hurting people and apologizing later, while promising to change, only to constantly break said promise wasn’t a good thing. He didn’t want to admit his mom was a bad person, she was his mother after all, but, even as a little kid, he knew this was wrong. She was wrong.

He spent most of his free time hidden in his room, not wanting to accidentally upset his mother and make her explode at him. He would just sit on the floor and scribble down answers and do his homework. He spent so much time on his own since he had nothing better to do than learn. He would read books and learn about all sorts of things. It was something he did enjoy, having always been a curious child no matter the circumstance.

Izuku had a feeling something was gonna be coming. Last month for his birthday, his mom told him she was gonna get help. She claimed she was gonna stop drinking but so far it hadn’t been going well. She’d barely managed two days without returning back to her drunk coping. She managed to keep from hitting him for the last couple of weeks since December but she was trying to get sober once more.

He originally expected her to last a day or so once she started to try again in January, but, after the week, he actually felt hopeful. His mom had kept her promise and she was actually gonna manage it. He was reluctant to trust it since nothing ever seemed to stick when it came to good things, but he loved his mom and she was trying so hard to make her new year's resolution happen.

Some would call him a people pleaser or naive for falling for his mother’s attempts but he couldn’t help it. Little kids, at least the ones like him, crave love and want to have a proper relationship with their parents. He really wanted his mom to be how she was when he was younger. He wanted back the mother who hugged and cuddled him when he had nightmares, made him dinner, and didn’t hurt him. She used to burst into tears if she accidentally bumped into him.

He was anxious as he waited to be picked up Friday evening. His mom had been a little snappy this morning and he knew it was because of her withdrawal, he’d looked up what it was called because it caused a lot of struggle. Izuku knew she didn’t mean to be so harsh, she just didn’t feel good because she wasn’t drinking anymore.

She didn’t pick him up from school anymore, because she was always intoxicated, and she’d done it all week because she’d been sober. When his aunt showed up, telling him she was picking him up, he knew something bad was gonna happen. Most addicts would hit a rock bottom, at least, that's what his research said before they would manage to completely quit.

He quietly slid in next to Kacchan, sitting on the extra booster seat she always kept for him. Kacchan was just about big enough to no longer need his but he knew the blonde threw a fit about it most days when his mom refused to let him sit like a big kid. He pulled the door shut, looking over towards the school building. He knew better than to try and talk with Kacchan since he’d snap at or ignore him.

When Mitsuki got into the car and began to drive, he felt his nerves start to spike as they inched closer to his home. He knew she was taking him to hell, she drank like crazy when she suffered a relapse, since his mom showed her signs of one. He watched as the unnamed stores and random houses got more familiar, turning into the grocery store and other apartment buildings. He was shifting nervously as they pulled into the parking lot.

He unbuckled himself, giving a nervous smile, before slipping out of the small car as Mitsuki did the same. “Stay in the car Katsuki, let me walk you little ‘Zuku.” She said softly. Her smile made him want to melt, not used to such blatant kindness anymore. Izuku didn’t want her to see his mom, not when she wasn’t herself, since it would ruin the years of connection they’d made. He gave a small smile at her protective nature before shaking his head.

“I’m okay Auntie, Momma had a headache this morning. She’s napping.” He told her. He knew she cared a lot about his mother. She wouldn’t disturb her if it risked making her feel worse.

“Oh, well alright, but tell your mother we need to meet up for coffee soon! We haven’t done that in a hot minute.” She told him with a small chuckle. He was pretty used to her laughing since even when she was mad she’d break into laughter. It gave her a few weird looks most of the time, but she never cared. His aunt never let anyone dictate her. It was inspiring.

He gave a nod as he turned to head towards the stairwell, knowing he had a few flights to climb and that she’d watch as he went. He held his bag straps as he bounced a little, trying to seem happy to be home. After all, what first-grader wouldn’t enjoy returning home? He gave her a small wave off the balcony once he got to his floor, watching as she began to pull her car from park and leave the lot.

Izuku crept towards the front door of their apartment before quietly opening the door. He immediately got a whiff of alcohol as he stepped onto the genkan and peeked inside. Nothing greeted him other than the smell. There were no words, running water, a busy kitchen, or anything. He anxiously closed the door behind him and slipped his shoes off, tucking the red high tops into the shoe rack.

“M-Mom? A-are you h-here?” He asked softly as he started to step onto the carpet. He heard movement deep in the apartment as he moved closer to the living room. He watched as his mom stumbled out of her room, one of his father's old shirts on and baggy sweatpants. She had clearly spilled her wine on the shirt, deep red staining the light gray fabric.

“What.. are you doing here!?~” She slurred out as she pushed all of her weight into the door frame. He could see a wine glass floating near her as she stumbled. He was scared. She’d never immediately react. There was always some sort of trigger, an accidental slip, or something. She never did this. He didn’t know what this would entail.

Izuku shook as he stepped forward, unsure as he moved a little closer to his bedroom. He could feel the tension as he instinctively held his hand. The first injury she’d given him scared on his palm, a permanent sign of when things were ruined. “M-momma… I’m-” He started before she snapped.

“Don’t you… Dare even move.~” His mother called out, heading towards him with a flushed face. She stood in front of him, and grabbed his non-dominant arm, before pulling him towards the kitchen. He couldn’t help but cry out when she did this.

“Momma! L-let go!” Izuku began to beg as he was pulled. He tried to struggle within seconds, whining as she continued to force him around. She didn’t respond as she used his light weight to throw him forward. He tried to brace himself as he collided with the pantry, banging the back of his head and catching one of his fingers on the corner.

He broke into small sobs as he brought his hand to his chest. The scar he had spilt in half, the gash being further up and across his palm while it crept onto his pointer finger. He couldn’t help crying from the pain as his hand throbbed and dripped blood.

Izuku brought his gaze to her eyes, he didn’t see a smidge of sympathy through her anger. Normally he could at least pick up a bit of it, but not this time. It wasn’t like anything she’d done before. He could tell she was mad, more than ever, and that's what scared him. She never got this mad. Not at him, his father, not at anyone.

“M-momma, I’m sorry!” He called out swiftly as she grabbed his shirt. He squirmed as she lifted him up, kicking his legs as he sobbed away. He was very frightened as she brought him towards the sink. He could see one side was full of clean dishes and the other was empty. He trembled as she turned the sink on.

His breathing began to pick up as she slipped the drain plug in. He started to realize what she was doing, panicking as he spoke up. “Momma! Don’t!” He Izuku shouted at her before he tried to squirm out of her hold. He was shaking as he kicked his legs before trying to figure out how to get out of his situation. He was sobbing a little bit as he looked towards his feet as the water got higher and higher up.

“You have… to learn a lesson Izuku!” She slurred out as she brought him closer to the sink. “I told you… To stay quiet!” His mother swore to him before she grabbed a fistful of his curls and shoved his face into the filling sink.

Izuku tried to catch some air before being forced into the water, but he failed immediately. He took in a large gasp of water immediately without meaning to. He felt so scared as he shifted and tried to pull his head out as he kicked his legs. Her hand pushed against his back, forcing his head down into the rising liquid. She let go of his hair and then instead grabbed the front of his face and pulled him from the water.

He coughed the water up, feeling his wet school shirt cling to his skin. Izuku was worried she’d go too far, so with her hand so close to his mouth he bit down across her fingers. He trembled as she dropped him, coughing as he listened to cuss words slip from her mouth. He took the moment of her distraction to bolt for his bedroom. He was panting and frightened as he heard her look towards him.

“Get back here!” His mother called out as he slammed the door closed behind him. He coughed up some water as he turned his bedroom lock, locking him in his room and her out. He was a trembling mess as he listened to her jimmy the lock to try and get into the room. “Let me in Izuku!”

He continued to force up water, stumbling over to his window with small sobs. He was scared about whether he was able to get out. She wasn’t gonna be able to calm down, he could get hurt to the point she goes too far. Bangs sounded out behind him as he went ahead and pushed the door open. Her shouting started to blend into the background, static filling his head as the smell of fresh air overwhelmed him.

He could hear her start banging on the door so he was quick to turn around. Izuku grabbed some bandages from the first aid and began to wrap up his hand, proceeding to return to the window, quietly looking down. He was only three floors up so the drop wouldn’t be too horrible. A shaky sound left him as he gave a whimper before moving to climb up the window sill.

He let his legs dangle as he felt the winter wind blow against his drenched hair and shirt. He looked at the tree standing within his reach before his door was forced open. The noise made him flinch and jump forwards, grabbing onto the branch as his mom spoke up. “Get your ass back in here Izuku!” She called out to him.

His momma never used mean words like that, so he was swift to try and get closer to the ground. He scraped up his belly on the trunk as his grip slipped, landing a little rough before he turned and bolted towards the open street. He could feel grass turn to the asphalt under his socked feet as he ran. He was shaking as quietly cried. He didn’t wanna hurt his mom but he couldn’t handle her doing this. He was terrified she’d mess up and go too far.

Her yelling started to fade into the distance as he made his way into an alleyway. Izuku knew they weren’t safe and gross, but he didn’t wanna get found. He was panting as he slowed down, his feet stinging from most likely an ungodly amount of glass cuts or something. He’s seen broken bottles on the streets before so it wouldn’t surprise him if it was all over the streets.

He could hear people around him, most likely a collection of homeless folks and villains, but they weren’t his main focus. He just needed to get away for a while. He needed to be safe. He understood his mom was very upset. She was pissed and drunk so he had no idea how long it would take for her to calm down and stop being so upset. She needed to stop all of this.

Izuku trembled as he worked to catch his breath. He went ahead and leaned against a wall, softly crying to himself. He was absolutely unsure if he should do anything, he couldn’t go home and if he went to his Aunt’s place she’d probably just take him home. On top of that, it would be the first place his mom would check. He knew that being out was dangerous even when you were a big kid and he wasn’t anywhere close to that yet.

The walls were lined with bricks and he could smell a combination of vomit and beer all around him. He knew about the bars in the area. His mom had mentioned them a few times since for the first while she didn’t drink at home, but after a few weeks, she realized it was cheaper than the bars. The sounds of hustle and bustle began to flood his surroundings after what felt like only a few minutes, but he knew by the fact his hair was damp and his shirt was dry that it had been a few hours.

He was tired and his hand was pretty cold. The bandages were rather red by now and he knew it was horrible. His research had led to a lot of random facts and he knew that blood loss was a bad thing. He looked around a little, the area was surprisingly quiet other than the loud sounds of adults on the main streets.

Izuku could feel his stress rising at the moment. He didn’t have a phone so no one could locate him through it. He could easily be kidnapped by someone and end up in a far worse situation. He felt like breaking down once more at how pointless his escape was. No matter what he was doomed from the start.

He couldn’t help but curl into himself, he was so scared of people getting close to him. He didn’t wanna be hurt or taken by people with bad intentions. The smallest noises around him began to make him tense and the string grow tighter as they got closer. He could tell no one was heading towards him but as he felt adrenaline pump through his blood, his hearing went fuzzy again as it had in the apartment.

Izuku started to notice his chest tightening and his head hurt, he couldn’t breathe as he squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing could manage it. He trembled as he curled up and lay against the wall more. The noises around him started to get louder and he covered them. Everything was too loud and he couldn’t help crying out as the noise overwhelmed him.

He pushed his hands against his ears without much care for his hurt hand, wanting the loud noises to stop. He could feel his legs pushing against his chest and blood dripping down his chin as he irritated his wound. He cracked his eyes open as a small thud sounded near him in the alley.

He didn’t expect to make eye contact with a woman. Her face was blurry and her lips were moving but her voice was completely dead to him. He couldn’t understand her but he began to grow dizzy as a soft mist seemed to form around her. He didn’t recognize her at all but something told him the lady was a pro. The fact he had used some form of, by his guess, a quirk told him as such. He felt himself getting drowsy as she sat down across from him.

Izuku sat up a little bit as he sniffled and rubbed his eyes. His head was dizzy and he watched the woman in front of him slowly lift up her hands. “Sorry, I had to use my quirk to calm you down.” She said calmly. Her voice was gentle but something about it seemed more grown than he expected, all while holding a calming undertone to it. He gave a small nod as the woman’s mist seemed to fade. He felt the noise stay soft and he quietly looked toward his feet.

He felt a hand grip his wrist, it was gentle but clearly had some callus. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand as he let the lady examine his bandages. He winced as he felt her fingers brush against the open wounds before having the woman remove the wrapping. He sniffled as he observed the hero pull a flashlight from her belt and shine it on his hand. He heard a sympathetic hiss escape her as she spoke up.

“Shoot… That must have been a nasty fall.” She said with a small huff, clearly not realizing it wasn’t from an accident, but she seemed very remorseful. His eyes drifted down as he sniffled and nodded a little. He was tired and honestly, he didn’t wanna be out in the cold anymore. He moved his feet, feeling his skin brush against the concrete due to the holes.

Izuku watched as the woman looked down at his feet, noticing he was barefoot as she seemed to consider the possible reasons. He quietly rubbed his eyes as the woman got to her feet. The lady didn’t even say anything before her hands met his underarms and he was lifted into the air. A squeal left him as he kicked a little being wedged into an opposite piggyback hold, his thighs holding her weights as she placed both arms under him for support... He wrapped his okay arm around her neck and let the dark-haired woman take his hurt one. “I’m pro hero Midnight, can you tell me your name, honey?”

He sat up a little while looking around a bit, he wasn’t used to positive nicknames, before quietly nodding. “Izuku…” He said softly as he looked over the lady’s warm shoulder. He watched the alley as Midnight began to remove him from it. He trusted her for some reason. He didn’t know why but, something about her just bled with it. He found himself more distrustful of women in comparison to men and it was probably because his mom was his abuser, even if it was only when she was drinking.

“It’s nice to meet you Izuku-Kun, can you tell me why you’re out here?” He heard the woman mutter into his hair as she went ahead and gently bounced him. He didn’t really understand why Midnight was doing this. It made him relax and feel more at peace with the gentle touch she gave. It was a big change from when his mom was drunk.

Izuku rested his head down, feeling as if he was moved. “How old are you, Izuku-kun?” She asked quietly as he felt warm eyes shift and turn to him.

“I’m six…” He responded as he went ahead and huffed as he quietly leaned against her a bit more. He was tired and the lady’s comfort really made him wanna just melt into him to sleep. He heard Midnight hum as she nodded a little before he felt her move one hand from under him to his back. He didn’t expect a small back rub to start and his shoulders fell slacker at the sensation.

“I’m gonna take you to the station and we’ll find your parents-” He heard the woman start to say but he couldn’t help but quickly interject.

“No! I can’t!” Izuku called out. He knew better than to just go back home as he pulled from Midnight a tad. He felt the lady flinch and her grip loosens a little bit. He looked up as he saw her face twist in multiple emotions. He sniffled as he shook his head and spoke up. “I-i can’t h-handle it anymore…” He added softly as he rubbed his eyes and looked behind himself towards the end of the street.

“Can’t handle what anymore?...” Midnight asked softly as she went ahead and stopped for a moment. He felt her shift him to her hip as she held his injured hand up. “Did your parents do this?” She asked softly as he saw her get a little more visibly worried.

He was scared to respond. What if he got in trouble or the woman just refused to take him somewhere safe? “Momma… Momma drinks… She tried to stop… B-but she went too far t-this time…” He whispered in response as he gave a tiny whimper. Izuku felt anxious that she wouldn’t believe him or do anything about it. He watched her furrow his eyebrows and her lip thin into a line before she swiftly switched it to a gentle smile

He felt his regret immediately flood him as he curled up a little bit and whimpered as he softly felt her begin to change direction. “Okay, no need to dwell on that, I’m going to take you to the hospital so that gash can be checked out.”

“Okay… Midnight-san…” He whispered as he moved to lay his head back on the woman’s shoulder. He softly bounced as she walked, starting to relax a little more at having a comforting situation.

__________

The walk took around thirty minutes and Izuku would have dozed off if it wasn’t for Midnight keeping him up. He could understand why considering the likely blood loss from his hand. He gently burrowed his head into the crook of her neck as they stepped into the hospital. A nurse was quick to have him moved to the emergency room since he was so little and the gash was bad enough.

She followed him as they did this and it all seemed to pass in a blur. He was so exhausted as he was treated. The doctors ended up having to give him a few stitches and saw a small bruise on the back of his head. He didn’t know what Midnight told the staff but he saw a few cops come and go from his room. He was rather anxious about it as he quietly tried to not doze off since they were asking him a mix of questions and the pain meds were making him really sleepy.

Izuku took around 10 minutes to answer questions before he began to doze off. He watched as Midnight gave him a small smile as he fell asleep. He felt rather comfortable with the situation since she was peaceful.

_______

When he began to wake up the sound of Midnight’s voice. She seemed to be on the phone as he sat up a little bit. The stitches on his right hand and finger were covered in some bandages. It was surprisingly not very bulky and he knew he could probably move his hand if it wasn’t for the risk of ruining his stitches. He rubbed his eyes as her words became understood him. “My place isn’t really all that child appropriate Sho’ I’m literally an R-rated hero.” She explained to the person on the other end of the line.

He could hear a deeper voice over the phone, it was very muffled but as he tried to focus on it he noticed all the sounds around him growing in volume. Izuku whimpered as he brought his hands up to his ears once more, beginning to cover them before she turned towards the door. Her voice seemed a little louder but her volume had clearly not changed. “I think he might have some kind of hearing quirk, you’d be good for that. Hizashi would just kill his ears and you’re quiet! Plus, he seems weary of women. He didn’t want to let any of the female nurses or doctors touch him. Please.”

He listened as she began to beg the man on the phone and continued to cover his ears. He didn’t expect the other end to suddenly be discerned by him. “I’m literally the worst person for this, I suck with kids Nem!” The Sho’ guy responded to her. Her response was quick though and seemingly well thought out.

“You do not, Oboro used to whine about how good you were with them! He was hella envious.” Midnight said in a hushed whisper as her eyes met his. He blinked a little as she gave a small sigh. “Look… He’s up now, just… Come here so you can get him, he can’t go home.” She said softly before ending the call.

“Hey, kiddo…” She whispered as she sat on the end of the hospital bed, quietly smiling at him. “You’ve only been out for about an hour or so.”

He rubbed his eyes as he sat up a small bit and proceeded to nod a bit. “Okay..” He would admit his words were a little soft and he seemed kinda weak. He was tired as he looked up at her before turning back to the door. “Is my momma… In trouble?” He asked softly as he began to fidget out of nerves.

“Your mom hasn’t tried to come to see you since we got here… I understand you’re scared but she isn’t going to be allowed near you until we can prove you’re safe.” Midnight told him as she brought a handover. He flinched as a calm weight rested on his knee and she quietly pulled her hand away. “Sorry, kiddo…”

He was unsure of what to do as he curled up a little bit and lay on his side near her. He didn’t allow his head to lay on her, but after a moment her hand began to brush through his curls. It relaxed him down completely as he softly melted into the sensation.

Izuku was pretty sure he had dozed off after a moment as but when he opened his eyes once more another person had joined them in the room, a man with long black hair and deep gray eyes. He sat up a little, the soft chatter the two adults had stalled once Midnight seemed to notice his head shift. “Hey honey, did you sleep well?” She asked.

He rubbed his eyes as he nodded a little and brought his eyes to the man across from them. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was or what the man entailed for him. He was anxious as a small whimper left him before she spoke up once more. “This is Aizawa, he’s a friend of mine and he’s gonna be taking care of you for a few weeks.” She explained.

Izuku couldn’t help the small whine that left him. He didn’t know if he could trust him, the man was new and he didn’t seem like a very warm person with his sharp jawline and exhausted expression. He was completely unsure if he could trust him but the way she spoke with him made him want to trust her judgment. He watched as she explained some things, mainly just mentioning how Aizawa was a pro and that he was a pretty quiet man.

All of the sudden, within the hour, a callous hand was gently holding his bandaged hand. He was walking with the man as he felt fabric brush against his knees from the large hoodie Aizawa had asked him to put on. He had explained that it was because of the cold and since he was so small. He didn’t mind it as he followed after him, looking around and at the small black car they approached.

“I don’t have a car seat, so I hope you don’t mind sitting without one for this trip?” He asked simply. The man’s voice was raspy as he opened the car door and the smell of coffee hit him like crazy. He gave a huff as he went ahead and got into the seat.

“It’s okay..” He whispered as he began to buckle himself in and quickly placed his hands in his lap as Aizawa closed the door. He could hear him walking towards the front seat before the door opened and he slipped inside as well.

Izuku watched as he began to drive after taking care of the car things adults did. He wasn’t really all that aware of how cars worked but he knew he’d learn a little later in life. He gently kicked his legs as he went ahead and moved his focus to the window, choosing to zone out as buildings and lights faded into blurs as they drove.

_______

They ended up pulling into an apartment complex after not too long where Aizawa was quick but gentle, to bring him up to the floor his residence was on. He felt a little nervous about it as he went ahead and followed him, clinging to his hand nervously at the uncomfortable surroundings. He didn’t know how to feel about the area as he listened to his keys jingle and the doorknob twist.

The house was a lot nicer than he expected it to be, a soft gray couch decorated with throws and a few fur-covered blankets. The cream carpet reminded him of his bedroom as they stepped onto the genkan and he slipped his shoes off. Once his gaze finished lingering on the floor he looked up to see something Izuku adored.

He gave a tiny squeak, trying to keep his sudden joy at bay as Aizawa looked towards him and two cats clambered over to them both. He had always had a secret infatuation with pets and cats had always caught his attention. They are so nimble and could fit in the strangest places that he couldn’t help but be curious about how they spend their time. The internet said they nap most of the time, which he knew, but he wanted to know what they did when they were up and away from people.

He felt the man take his hurt hand and carefully lead it toward the furry felines. Izuku froze as he watched them sniff and stifled his giggles as whiskers tickled his skin. He wanted to pet him, but he wasn’t sure if he could, the gray tabby pushing against his legs as the cream-based turtle shell scented his hand was enough he couldn’t stop a bright smile. A part of him completely forgot that Aizawa was there as his inner child got a moment to be adored.

He was tugged towards the couch and followed without taking his eyes off of the cats. He could barely hear the soft chuckling in front of him as his eyes shifted with the animals while they tailed behind him. A yawn left him as they got closer to the couch, a hand resting in his curls as he relaxed a little bit and leaned against the man next to him. He felt him tense at first, only for a split second, before he was picked up and placed on the couch.

“You should sleep, Nem told me you have a rough day.” Aizawa’s simple words, combined with the previous action, were enough to slip him from his mental haze. Now that he mentioned it, Izuku felt absolutely exhausted. He rubbed his eyes as the man gave a pat to the pillow beside him and, obeying the clear sign, laid his head down with a huff.

He looked towards him as the man pulled one of the many blankets up and over his shoulders. He could feel his eyes growing heavy by the moment as he shifted to get comfortable before the tabby cat seemed to hop up near his legs. He felt a light pressure laying against his feet so he figured it was laying down there. He let his eyes slip close slowly, watching as he was tucked and watched, glad someone seemed to be showing proper care and maybe even love for him, even if it wouldn’t be for long.

_____________

Izuku was surprised when he woke up warm and on a couch. His hand was hurting as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. A tiny meow caught his attention as he looked behind him as the tabby cat moved from behind him. He guessed it pushed off his legs as he brought them over the edge. He gave a soft huff as he began to stretch and tried to walk around a little. His feet were covered in small bandages from the cuts and scrapes from when he had been running.

He peeked into the kitchen, quietly blinking when he couldn’t see anyone around. He then glanced back behind him towards the hallway. He quietly began to creep down it to where he could hear quiet speaking. He pushed the door open a little, giving a tiny noise.

“I’ll call you later Hizashi, he’s gonna wake up before too long,” Aizawa told the other voice before hanging up before the man could speak. He stifled a small giggle as he turned towards the door and, unfortunately, him. “Oh, Izuku… Hey.” He said softly, looking nervous and unsure as he stepped towards the door.

Izuku gave a small wave and nodded a little as he brought up his harmed hand. He watched as the man gave a small noise before moving closer. “Shit, forget I said that. I probably need to give you another dose of pain meds.” He muttered as he ran the bridge of his nose and slipped the door open. Quickly, he got out of the way to allow Aizawa to pass by him as the man headed towards the room down the hall. He watched the door slip open and quietly stepped over to see him get something from the cabinet.

He took the medicine without much complaint as he sat back on the couch and sighed. He was tired as he rubbed his eyes and watched Aizawa head into the kitchen. “I’ll make some breakfast really quick, does soup sound alright?” He asked calmly.

Izuku nodded in response as he kept his hands in his lap and moved to start petting the tabby as they climbed into his personal space. He wasn’t too sure of what to do with it as he began to brush his fingers through its fur. As time began to pass, he felt the pain in his hand slowly fade and the purring the cat gave off made him feel grounded and filled all his senses.

He wanted to take another nap as he felt the pain meds kick in and the soft sounds of everything around him started to mesh into a comforting environment. He wasn’t used to just having a safe area around him, not needing to worry about anything new to him. He had a feeling his aunt was gonna freak out when Kacchan said he wasn’t at school. This was probably gonna ruin her relationship with his mother but, from how far she went last night, he wasn’t going to complain.

Izuku was softly relaxing in the warmth of the house around him, listening to the sound of a moving bell, most likely from the turtle shell’s collar. He didn’t know their names yet but he figured Aizawa would tell him in due time. He could feel the cat brush against his small feet as he continued to pet the tabby in his lap and patiently waited for him to be told breakfast was done.

“Come on kid, eat while it’s hot.” He turned his head towards his voice, seeing the black-haired man placing a plate in front of himself before motioning to the other on the opposite end of the table. Izuku got up rather quickly and gently bounced over to the room, feeling the shift from carpet to cold tile made him shiver as he quickly got up into the chair. He didn’t like how the cold felt on his bruised feet.

A small giggle escaped him from the puzzled look the man gave him as he proceeded to get up. He watched as Aizawa made his way toward the cabinet next to two small bowls on the floor. He removed a can from the cupboard and swiftly opened it. The smell of cat food made him quickly turn to his food, muttering a soft thanks before beginning to eat the soup.

Within moments the man was sitting across from him and the two felines were happily munching on the wet food in their bowls. He couldn’t help but let his gaze drift to the fluffy masses as Aizawa began to eat. He felt deeper eyes rest on his mop of hair before a rough voice pulled him from his head. “The tabby is Asiuru, since she just adores everyone, and the other one is Korāju.”

Izuku smiled at the surprisingly sweet names. The man seemed more of a rougher person so it kind of surprised him. He nodded as he pushed a spoonful of his soup into his mouth, wanting to show he understood but also wishing to ask questions. He couldn’t help his fear, it made sense to him after all these years of abuse and a lack of a proper parental figure, so he was relieved the man didn’t seem to try any pressure on his attention or cooperation.

It felt like they finished breakfast just as quickly as it was made. He knew the reason for that was because he didn’t feel the need to constantly look over his shoulder in fear of being snuck up on. He brought his bowl and spoon to the sink, unable to find a stool or reach the faucet to clean his dirty dishes. He looked towards Aizawa as the man walked next to him, a small smile seemed to bloom on his face as he spoke once more, just as soft as he had been earlier.

“Let me do the dishes, it’s bad to get anything on those stitches.” He told him as he gently put his hand out for the glass. Izuku gave a soft nod and handed them to him before he continued. “Thank you, Izuku.” He said calmly.

He nodded in response, “No p-problem,” leaving his mouth with a soft squeak. He really wasn’t used to such kind behavior so he made his way to the couch once more. His fingers began to pull at his hair, his bandaged hand most likely needing to be redressed for the sake of no infection. He knew this could be dangerous since he spent quite a bit of time in the middle of a germ-infested alley to hide with his open wound.

Izuku brought his eyes off the white bandages as he looked around a little. Aizawa had just disappeared down the hallway before he stepped back into the living room with a red first aid kit. He blinked in child-driven confusion at first before sitting up and offering his hand as the taller man sat in front of him, legs crossed on the floor. “Are you fine with me examining your stitches? I need to make sure none have popped and that an infection isn’t starting up.”

He nodded softly as he felt him start to unravel the wrapping. It felt good to have some pressure removed but as soon as the irritated skin and stitches were exposed to the air he wanted to whine. It felt rather cold in comparison to his flesh as he watched Aizawa gently prod and check how angry his skin was. He relaxed as little as he felt the antibacterial cream being carefully spread over the roughly closed wound and the strong stitches. He was honestly grateful for how gentle he was with his hand, quietly watching him think.

“Let's air it out for a few minutes. Just to help some of the irritation, then I’ll wrap it again. Do you wanna watch something while we wait?” Izuku smiled a little when the deep voice broke their silence. He shook his head in response before speaking up.

“I don’t really watch cartoons… Could you read?” He asked hesitantly as he rested his hand on his thigh. Aizawa seemed thrown off guard by his request but after a second the man simply nodded with a very calm smile.

“Sure, I don’t really have any kid books though.” He admitted.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Izuku said softly in retaliation as he gently began to swing his legs. He didn’t mind learning about random things through help books or just anything legible. He watched as the gears turned and he seemed to go over the many possibilities.

Aizawa ended up reading through the newspaper. It was kinda boring but at points, Izuku just enjoyed the fact the man would make sure he was listening or ask if he wanted him to switch to a different place. After around thirty minutes he gave his hand back to be re-wrapped and silently hummed to himself. He gently shifted his wrist and fingers once he got up.

Izuku let his eyes follow him as he looked down at himself. The hoodie he was allowed to wear absolutely swamped him but it was comfortable and he knew Aizawa didn’t have to let him wear it. He gave a soft huff as he started to tease the drawstrings with his harmed hand, quietly thinking to himself. “You’re not what I thought you’d be like..” He whispered letting his voice get a little louder as he saw dark eyes shift from the first aid box to his body.

He watched a small smile grace Aizawa’s lips as he responded, seemingly glad he thought so. “Mean and scary?” He asked, making a small huff escape his own lips. He smiled sheepishly in response. “Yeah... Well,” The man paused for just a moment before he continued, “I actually kind of thought you’d be kinda mean and scary too.” He said softly.

Izuku felt his face shift, shocked at his response and how he seemed so genuine. His furrowed eyebrows and somehow serious yet soft expression held more than the words he’d spoken. He couldn’t help the small whisper that left him in his moment of surprise. “Me?...” He gently held onto the drawstrings and pointed towards himself slightly as he spoke.

“Terrifying,” Aizawa confirmed, humor riding his voice as he shifted his face to make the playful word more effective. Izuku couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left him as he smiled in response. He could feel the joy it brought the man as his hand moved up and ruffled his curly hair.

Something about the moment seemed to bring something from them both. Izuku felt as if his pain had completely melted for a few seconds, his heart warmed and he felt proper glee for the first time in what seemed like forever. His emerald eyes met Aizawa’s onyx ones and he felt as if he was seeing the most important person. He didn’t know what overcame him but without another thought, he moved forward and hugged the crouching man.

He felt him hesitate for a moment before wrapping his arms around his small body, his scruffy chin resting on top of his head. Izuku felt himself slowly pull his walls down, unable to stop the tears that began to roll down his freckled cheeks as he burrowed his head against Aizawa’s collarbone. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of him, safely just bleeding from his every pour and the sound of his beating heart is enough to make him cling. Just knowing this was gonna be a good thing, he needed someone to save him and he could tell this man was going to do just that.

__________

Izuku had been staying with Aizawa for almost three months when their court date had been chosen. His mom had been caught driving drunk trying to find him, so she had a DUI thrown on top of the abuse charges. When the April morning finally came he was unsure of how to feel. His seventh birthday was in a few months and he knew she had to be sober because her patrol did surprise sobriety tests whenever they wanted.

He’d taken to calling his guardian dad in his head and Shouta in conversation. He knew the attachment he’d gained was probably dangerous but something about the man just told him he’d be staying no matter what. Even if he ended up in his mother’s custody, Aizawa wasn’t going to leave him.

He woke up to the smell of coffee and cat food as a familiar hand brushed his cheek. He was sleepy enough that he let the word Dad slip from him at the comforting man. He rubbed his eyes as he felt his hand parade through his curly mess of hair. The deep chuckle and footsteps that sounded to the right of him brought a smile to his sleepy face as he was spoken to. “We have court in two hours, go hop in the shower Izuku.”

At the mention of his name, Izuku listened and made his way out of his bedroom and down the hall toward the bathroom. He took a rather nice shower, relaxing in the warmth of the steamy room after he finally stepped out. The two hours passed in a silent and happy blur as he dressed and ate without any complaint. He was wearing a simple yellow button-up shirt with black dress pants his, non-official, uncle got him claiming they’d be nice. His red hightops were excused by Aizawa since they both knew shoes were a living hell for him.

Once they got into the car, the gravity of what they were about to go to start to settle on him. Izuku felt nervous and completely unsure if he was going to be forced back with his mom, sent to an orphanage, or continue his fostered life with Aizawa. He was kinda quiet as they drove. Aizawa had ended up getting him a booster seat and, while it was embarrassing, he didn’t mind it very much. He was very tired as he leaned against the window, relaxing a little bit at the nice warmth the glass had absorbed.

As they got closer, he slowly started to notice how Shouta seemed to start checking on him a little more. He knew the man was worried about him since the situation was rather stressful. He was very respectful of the fact and, honestly, he owed him a lot of hugs.

Izuku held onto his hand as they made their way into the main building before quietly creeping toward the family courtroom. He was unsure of everything as they sat down and meshed into the room. He could see his mother sitting on the opposite side of the aisle and honestly it caused him a bit of distress. He hid his head against Aizawa’s side, trying to calm himself and stay comfortable as they sat. Uncle Hizashi and Aunt Nemuri sat on either side of them as his lawyer gave him a soft smile. She seemed sweet with all the meetings she had with them.

He had to talk a lot about the past. He didn’t really like it but he also understood he had to. His mom had done a lot to him and the lawyer, after hearing all of it and examining his hospital documents, she explained some stuff and how none of what happened was his fault. She wasn’t the only person to tell him that, Aizawa and his new family had to try and help him understand. He was very tired so he went ahead and leaned against Aizawa as they waited.

When the case finally started to be spoken about and gone over. His mom kept looking over at him, trying to get his attention. Nem and Aizawa kept looking over at her, trying to get her to stop as his father figure blocked her from his view and him from hers. He was anxious as they listened to everything his mom’s lawyer said. The way he spoke made it seem like they were trying for a non-guilty verdict, but he didn’t understand why.

If his mom truly felt as bad as she seemed to, she wouldn’t be denying what happened. Izuku wanted to tell the man off and let his mom know how much it hurt. When it came to their argument, the judge seemed respectful as he listened to their argument. He didn’t like having to listen to the other lawyer object to things he knew were true. It made his blood boil with how it made his pain seem pointless.

It took a while before the judge actually spoke to him. He felt his nerves spike as he gave a small bow and tried to watch the man respectfully. Aizawa gently rubbed his back as he fidgeted and spoke up. He went through what caused his mom’s abuse up to when he ran away. He was in tears by the end of it and he was given a few minutes to compose himself. Shouta ended up scooping him up and setting him on his hip. It calmed him to be close but also because it was safe. He knew if anything happened, they’d have to get through him first.

The judge spent around 15 minutes thinking over his decision before he opted to answer them. Izuku was quick to burst into tears and cling to Aizawa as his mom was found guilty and she wasn’t allowed to be around him unless he chose to let her. His head rested on his dad’s shoulder as he was comforted and completely melted into the feeling of belonging and pure love.

His mother called out for him, begging him to look at her and speak to her. She of her regrets and apologized. She promised she was sober as she tried to grab his hand, Hizashi was quick to get between them both as Nemuri began to harass her and probably mentioned his state when she found him. The amount of noise was piling up and he knew how overwhelmed it was making him. His hands covered his ears and he could feel his father trying to rush him from the upsetting environment.

Izuku honestly just felt glad he was being protected. He wanted to go home and spend some time being loved. He needed a safe place after all of this stress. Once they returned home, his father was quick to join him in his room. Izuku had a small area formed in the corner of his room that was piled high with comfort items and blankets. He curled against Shouta’s chest with a small whimper. He was mad at his mom, mad at her lawyer, and honestly, he just wanted to be given space to grieve his lost family. His original family.

He felt like crying and he pushed his hands into his lap as he sniffled and looked up at his father figure. “W-why couldn’t my mom just… b-be honest?..” He asked quickly as he ran his fingers through his curls. He wasn’t crying but the want to was clear as his eyebrows furrowed with his frustration. “Why couldn’t she just be my mom!” He added as he quietly clenched his hands into fists. “Is everyone going to be like this? Am I not allowed to be happy or wish for it!?” He asked swiftly as he held onto Aizawa.

Izuku couldn’t contain his anger at this point, he wanted to show he was a person. His parents never seemed to care and when one of them had a chance to, she chose to hide behind lies and her own mask. He was so upset and stuck in his head that he gave a tiny noise when Shouta gently held his cheek.

“Izuku… Think of it like this… Some people care for others more than themselves. Others can’t help but be the complete opposite and even some fall in the middle. That magic is special, but not everyone you want will have it.” Aizawa spoke softly as he held onto him before a kiss was placed on his forehead. He closed his eyes and burrowed into the touch between them.

“Then… I-it must be gone… nothing i-is left…” Izuku whispered as he held onto his wrist and quietly tried to just deal with it. After all, he was just a small kid. Nothing he would do would bring it back, nothing would return the relationship he had with his mom all those years ago.

The silence felt overwhelming and at first, Izuku thought his ears had gone numb before a small squeeze of his cheek and the sound of a calming voice. “There is still magic in the world…” Aizawa said calmly as he rubbed his back.

Izuku turned his eyes toward him with a small frown. He knew the confusion he felt shown through his face but the next thing he said forced his tears to stream. “It’s you…” He started to cry as he held onto his father figure, no, onto his dad. “Do with it what you will…” He continued as he pulled him into a tight hug.

His arms wrapped around his neck, tightly squeezing as he let his silent tears drip. After everything, all his pain, fear, and suffering, he found family. He found love. “But you are, magic.” His dad continued as he gently placed his forehead against his.

“I love you, dad…” Izuku whispered as he kept his eyes closed, softly smiling at the warmth that enveloped him.

“I love you too, Sprout.”

Endnotes

The cat names -

Asiuru - affectionate

Korāju - collage

#mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #young midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #midnight #nemuri kayama #inko midoriya #little sprout au #gift #archive of our own #autistic?

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