#'hes got a face only a mother could love'

[artist-issues]

Hi.

Jasmine - Went beyond the idea of “consent” to say what she really wanted was “a real friend” and “love” if married. Once she got those things, even when they were falsely found in Prince Ali, no more “boldly sneaking out for independence” for her.

Rapunzel - Wanted to go see the world and experience things for herself but discovered the best experience and dream was love, from a man, who she was willing to give “experiencing things” up for the sake of (when Mother Gothel stabbed him and she promised not to escape again if she could heal him.)

Snow White - Absolutely literally 100% “waiting for a man.” Her song is called “Someday My Prince Will Come.” Her prayer is for Grumpy, a man, to like her. She’s happiest when she’s showing love to the male characters around her. And that kind of love is what inspires and transforms them, to be less self-centered.

Mulan - Wanted to have a safe father and prove she was worthwhile—which she was. Long before she ever went off to war, she had her father’s love and esteem. “The greatest gift and honor is having you for a daughter.” She never needed to go to war to prove that. She never needed to prove she was as good as a man to do that, or better than a man, to do that. She had it all along.

Aurora - Not forced. Protected. By superpowered women who gave up their power, dignity, and identities just to keep her safe. And when she found out she couldn’t have the man she was in love with, she was heartbroken, but did not rebel against authority—because she’s the kind of precious woman who respects others and is worth protecting.

Cinderella - The Fairy Godmother does not “empower” Cinderella so that Cinderella can “reach her goals.” The Fairy Godmother gives Cinderella her “goals.” Literally. And she does it as a direct result of Cinderella willingly waiting for help. Not help necessarily from a Prince, but help from Something outside of herself. Fate, destiny, (in the original fairy tale it’s God) to “make her dreams come true.” And then after she meets the Prince? She certainly is “waiting” for him. She’s not sneaking out of the house by her wit and moxy to wave her slipper in front of his face and lecture him about how he can’t recognize her if she’s not in a ball gown. It’s her faith that saves her. And faith is dependent on something outside her own abilities.

Pocahontas - Wants to do the right thing, her “destined path,” instead of the smoothest, easiest thing, which is what everyone in her tribe sees as the highest good. And when hate is introduced, she combats it with love—not by “befriending” John Smith, but by giving her heart to John Smith, despite the fact that he can be a prejudiced blowhard. She loves him anyway. And that love allows her to see him as human, when everyone else sees him as less-than human. Same thing, with him to her. Without him in her life helping her to put belief into action, Pocahontas would have had no ability to convince anyone not to go to war.

Tiana - Why is everyone so obsessed with who-saves-who? Tiana worked to be an independent restaurant owner and that got her nothing, and if it had gotten her anything she straight-up says later in the movie that her dream (independence and ownership) would have been incomplete. Dissatisfying. Without who? Without a man. Without Naveen. Because love is worth more than gain, status, or validation—and she was never going to get love, gain, or validation without the help of a Higher Power. Her “the only way I’m going to get what I want is through my own hard work” philosophy was wrong, the whole movie worked hard to prove it wrong.

Belle - Belle’s “willingness to see past the exterior” did not save Prince Adam. Her showing him what it looks like to love someone self-sacrificially—meaning, you give up your own independence and your own dreams, for someone you love (her father)—is what gave him hope, and that hope led to him doing the same for her. Sacrificing his own interests for her, which is love, which is what broke the curse. Their love for each other broke the curse, it was not “her-saving-him.” And his name’s not Prince Adam, get over it, it’s the Beast.

Ariel - Ariel did not want to be human before she met Eric. She wanted to be part of the human world and understand it, and sure, she thought having feet and living in a world where she wasn’t told what to do all the time would be pretty cool—but “want,” as in, “give up anything for it, ready to go right now,” NO. She markedly did not want to leave her family and give up everything. Not until she had confirmation that she was right—that humans are not barbarians, and can be wonderful—and ERIC is that confirmation, for her. Eric is the inciting incident. Eric is the reason, the big “WHY” behind Ariel leaving the sea. She did give up everything for him. That’s the movie. There’s a shift in her motivations in the movie, and it happens when she sees that A) Eric is a dreamer like her, B) Eric is ridiculed for the way he sees the world like her, but he keeps believing anyway, and C) Eric risks his life to save other creatures instead of being a “spineless savage harpooning fish-eating barbarian.” Ariel did not want independence. She didn’t sign away her life and leave her family so she could dance around exploring the surface alone and independent. She did it so that she could be with someone. Who? Oh. A man. For love. And he absolutely does save her.

Merida - Merida’s movie is not about romance. The topic of “Arranged marriage” is only in the movie at all as a mini object lesson for “be brave enough to let a child decide what they’ll do with all you’ve taught them, instead of trying to force them out of a fear that they’ll make the wrong decision.” It’s really not making a statement about marriage at all. That’s just a low-hanging “the audience can understand Merida’s misgivings” fruit they grabbed.

Again—why are you all so obsessed with who-saves-who?

If you do the saving, congratulations, you demonstrated that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, the hardest thing to sacrifice, for the sake of another. If you get saved, CONGRATULATIONS, you’re loved enough to be treated as worth such a sacrifice. BOTH THOSE THINGS ARE AWESOME. The worst thing to be is someone who 1) acts on their own self-interest (oh, like if your highest dream is to be “independent”) or 2) is completely unloved by anyone, and if you were endangered, nobody would even notice. Nobody would even want to demonstrate how much you mean to them by trying to save you.

Those are the worst things you could be. Why are you all so eager for your women characters to be those horrible loveless things? OR your men??

Also waiting?? Waiting to be saved? Have you ever lived any life, ever? Have you ever been in a circumstance you can’t change—yes you have, because you’re a human being who is not all-powerful. Don’t you know how incredible being able to wait for someone else to help you is? Do you know what the alternative is? Living in denial because you arrogantly believe that you have all the power to not only know what the exact right thing to do is to change your circumstance, but if you could just get it right, everything would change. OR. The other denial? Giving up. Letting your circumstances change you. My family hates me, so I’ll hate them back. I can’t get away so I might as well die. Those alternatives are the natural, easy, response we sink right into.

But waiting in hopeful expectation? Waiting because you trust someone else? Not letting your emotions be yanked up and down and all around by the shallow people and hard circumstances around you? That is hard to do.

These characters who wait on saviors and trust in love are so much stronger than the strong independent nothings you’re imagining.

Sincerely,

A woman who is waiting on The Man to come back and save her.

#StickIt

[lostintransist]

Can't Catch Me | A König One-Shot

König runs into a spot of trouble with the mob. But wouldn't you know it, his favorite barista is heading home and is willing to play along.

For @backseatsoldier *hugs, kisses, and hopefully König spends the night*

CW: 18+ Minors do not interact, kissing, ass smacking, suggestive themes

You stretched your neck as you walked the final stretch toward home. Two jobs, an early morning barista shift followed by a break, and then a half shift at a call center always left you drained. But between the two schedules, you had time to do two classes a day or settle at the school library and bust out homework before it was due. No matter the time the sun had always hidden itself away before you could leave the call center.

The shitty and small bathtub in your flat and a bath bomb someone had given you for Christmas two years back called your name. The well of the tub was so thin that water got trapped behind you as you emptied it. You forgot that until you went to stand up and a flood of water rushes over your legs and toes.

You are flung, quite literally, from your thoughts when you meet a wall nose first. Rubbing your nose you step back and look up, and up, and up. Oh! You know this wall! He comes by your coffee shop regularly enough and always gives K as his name.

“Oh! Iced chai with two espresso, sorry about that. I should have been watching where I was going.”

The tall, broad man glances behind him. His face is hidden by a surgical mask, as always. When he glances back to you a spark of something, something concerning, lights in his eyes.

“You know me, ja?” At your confused nod he continues, “How much I pay you pretend we together?”

Blinking rapidly is your only response before your mouth forms a “wha” shape.

“Five hundred enough?”

“Uh-u-sure?”

He rips the mask off, shoving it deep in his pocket before grabbing your right hand in his left and circling a long arm around you, caging you between the combined length of your arms.

“How was work love?”

He stares down at you expectantly. The sound of pounding feet reaches your ears, the volume rising with each step.

“Honestly love? It was exhausting.”

His eyes get wider the closer the footsteps get. You wrench the hat off your head, ignoring the hat hair you undoubtedly have. Slapping it down over his massive skull you have never been more thankful for what your mother always complained of as your ‘overly large, vagina-tearing noggin’. It’s a bit of a tight fit but the layer of change helps his shoulders relax a fraction.

“What made it so bad?”

You start walking as he continues the charade, tugging him along despite his clear resistance.

“So, you know how my boss is a complete asshole right?” He grunts and you continue, “Well he just hired his daughter to be the office manager, which first off is clearly a nepo choice but I’m just a part-time employee what the hell can I say about it?”

Two men dressed all in black and guns on their hips race past the two of you with barely a glance.

“Not much,” he agrees, ear tipped toward the retreating footsteps. “How much to go to your apartment until I can get a ride here?”

“Your name.”

He looks down at you, brows pinched together under the brim of your borrowed hat.

“König.”

“Thank you, König. Yes, you can come and hang out at my apartment until you get your ride scheduled.”

The stress from his shoulders and the pinched look on his face disappeared.

“Now tell me more, I thought you worked at the coffee shop.” He falls into step with you now, slower shorter steps keeping up with your slightly elongated to accommodate for him.

“I do, I work the early shift at the café and then have a few hours off for school and homework before I do my late-night job so I can make rent.” Bumping his thigh with your hip you continue, “What do you do other than running from gangsters?”

“Mobsters,” he countered, “Blow stuff up, mostly.”

“Mmm. Quite impressive.”

The sound of footsteps, speeding back toward you sent both your hackles up.

König leaned down into your ear, “How much to kiss you?”

Mind can’t keep up with all these jumps and you spit out the first number word you can think of.

“Hundred!”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you tighter to him and moving you both forward as he directs your steps closer to the wall. Your back hits the wall as the men come into view. König’s lips are on your before you can think of much else.

Could a brain give a blue screen of death? That’s the only way you can describe the complete lack of function your brain produces when his lips meet yours. Movement happens by need alone and that need has you pulling him closer, fingers digging into the flesh at his waist as you lick the seam of his lips. His forearm lands next to your head as his knees buckle slightly.

The footsteps slow as they pass you but the wanton, and frankly, too graphic to be outside of a bedroom or a porno sounds shoot erupts out of you, sending them scurrying away. Some masculine cologne sweeps into your brain, killing off the last of your brain cells. You would climb him like a tree given half a chance.

“Six hundred,” he whispers as he pulls back slightly.

Eyes unfocused, you blindly reach out and grab him by the collar. Dragging him back to your lips you catch his lower lip between your teeth, pulling gently as you lean away. The tiniest sound escapes from deep in his throat, a spear thrown that landed directly in your needy bits.

“Seven hundred,” you breathed on his lips.

Breaths mingling König watches you watch him. The condensation of his breath warms and cools your face.

“Those kisses are worth a hundred a piece,” he whispers as if worship is his primary language.

Movement from the edge of your vision alerts you to the mob’s incoming presence.

“Pick me up, keep pretending. I can direct you to my apartment,” an edge of panic creeps into your voice as you force your eyes to not move from his.

He does as you command, hands so wide they nearly span the width of your thighs as he lifts you, knees hugging his waist and ankles locking behind his back.

The giggle that escapes you is real. You were too solid for nearly any other man to hoist you like this. He settles both arms under your butt, holding you close. Flopping onto his shoulders, kissing up and down his neck you count the doorways until you see the one before yours and bite gently on König’s earlobe. He pulls you tighter when you start to murmur.

“This next door is mine. They are still following but looking way less suspiciously at us. Smack my ass.”

König didn’t need to be told twice. The crack of his large hand across your backside made the men following flinch and turn away, confident now that the man they had followed half a block was not the person they were looking for.

You didn’t mean to, but your jaw tightened, pinching his earlobe tighter as you whine into his ear. He let out a groan that would haunt your masturbation sessions until you reached death, dildo in hand.

Letting go of his ear you rest back on his shoulder. He rubs out the sting of his smack; your inner walls clench at the care.

“First door is unlocked. Head to the top floor. I’m in six.”

He isn’t breathing hard when he tops the several flights of stairs, even despite the additional weight of your body.

When he lets you down it is with a slide down the length of his body, a slight bulge at his zipper confirms you weren’t the only one affected by the shared kisses. You spin around, focusing diligently on the task of unlocking the door. Throwing the door wide you step in and gesture to the space.

“Get comfortable, call your ride. I need to change and get ready for bed. I have to be awake in five hours for work,” you don’t turn as you stalk further into your small apartment.

Shutting the bedroom door you cover your mouth with both hands as you force the deepest breaths you can manage through your nose. After the tenth deep breath, you are calm enough to change. Your long pants and ugliest hoodie are your shields. A soft, wireless bra you pray is enough to keep the ladies from trying to claw their way to say hello and a clean, dry pair of underwear is the last of the changes.

Stepping from the bedroom you find König staring out the window and down at the street.

“Wanna watch a show while you wait for your ride?” You twist the inner portion of your hoodie pocket around one finger.

“Ja,” he nods and settles into one corner of the couch with three massive steps.

Turning on something calming, settling yourself on the other side of the couch, a pillow wedged underneath your head. You are drifting when his phone buzzes once.

He curses in what sounds like German before tapping your leg with two fingers.

“My ride is delayed. Can I purchase more kisses?”

Any sleep that might have been gathering fled like birds as a toddler ran full force toward them. You popped upright, looking over every bit of the man you could see in the shifting light of the TV.

The serious cast to his face decided your answer for you. Crawling into his lap, not unlike the way he carried you home less than an hour ago, you settle yourself pussy to penis. The layers of clothing between you would not prevent you from enjoying this stolen bit of time.

“König, I am going to do my best to bankrupt you,” your fingers creep up his arms as his hands settle on your waist.

“Gut.”

No more words are shared, only base noises, keening cries, and the wet sounds of sloppy kisses.

Preemptive tags because I know how much these two people love König: @demothers-empty-blog @machveil

Masterlist

[mandarinmoons]

Dessert

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader Summary: Upon finding out that Spencer left his lunch at home reader heads over to The BAU to hand it over to him along with an extra sweet surprise Words: ~ 600 Warnings: None

“Spence, someone’s here to see you!”

Spencer looked up from his paperwork toward the voice that called him. He saw JJ near the doorway with another woman next to her, not a stranger, but someone he knew all too well. It was you.

As his eyebrows furrowed, Spencer stood up and made his way over to you. His work was the last place he expected you to show up, not that he wasn’t happy to see you, but his relationship to you wasn’t something he had mentioned to anyone, not even his mother.

You and Spencer had only been dating for a few months and with everything going extremely well during that time he still hadn’t told anyone on the team about you, and why should he? Spencer was a fairly private person and with how demanding and dangerous his job could be he didn’t want to open the door of horrors to you to keep you safe, to not scare you away. Everything was still so new, the highs of the honeymoon phase were still felt by the both of you and with Spencer’s life going down the way that it has, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. He needed a break from everything, as anyone else does, and being in your arms was his escape.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You chuckled as you held up a tupperware container to Spencer’s face, his confusion turning to realization in an instant.

“You forgot your lunch. I thought that I’d bring it over.”

Spencer cleared his throat and took the container in his hands, his eyes falling to the floor as he felt his teammates glance over at you both from across the bullpen. He felt his cheeks heat up and it was evident that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his sweet little secret under the wraps. With the room being filled with profilers, everyone was bound to know what role you played in Spencer’s life.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Spencer’s lips were quick to turn into a small smile when he heard you chuckle and the smile grew wider when you took him in for a hug. Hugs were usually something Spencer wasn’t accustomed to, but he could never pass one up when it came from you.

Your arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck, your fingers lightly caressing the back of his nape making a shiver go down his spine. Spencer’s free hand went to rest on your lower back, his fingers copying your movements with his thumb caressing the fabric of your sweater, this is exactly what he needed to get through the day.

“Oh, don’t forget dessert.”

Before Spencer had a chance to question what you meant, your hands cupped his cheeks and Spencer froze as you peppered light kisses over his face. His eyes blinked rapidly as he took it in, his cheeks now on fire from the loving act.

Spencer watched as you waved at him goodbye and walked out the door, feeling as if his feet were glued to the floor as he wasn’t able to move. His gaze stuck to the doorway you departed from, hoping you’d perchance run back in for one last kiss.

Spencer felt a slap on his back and nearly jumped on the spot from the sensation, then hearing a familiar chuckle belonging to Derek and a sigh parted his lips, knowing what was bound to come next.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, player.”

You can find my masterlist here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | FC43

summary — in which franco’s just been thrown into the glamorous world of formula 1, and as his slightly jealous partner, you don’t take all the people flirting with him too lightly

pairings — franco colapinto x princess!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2090

note — i have another princess! reader thats been in the drafts for like two months but this one lowkey wins

YOU WEREN’T NECESSARILY THE jealous type. there were sprinkles of it growing up: jealous of those who had a normal life, jealous of the other kids who got to do whatever they wanted, and jealous of how no one seemed to want to hang out with you because you couldn’t really bring much to the table. 

you had a good life and a good upbringing, but you never really understood any of it until you were midway through your teenage years. that’s when the weight of being in a royal family hit. but even then, and still now, why did it matter so much when your older brother was the crown prince anyway? and how his eventual children would be in line for the throne before you? 

you weren’t jealous of that at least, despite only having turned twenty-one this year, you didn’t want the throne at all. you wanted to go do things, see things, not have more responsibilities held over your head. that was the life your brother wanted, a life he was already accepting; it certainly wasn’t for you.

meeting franco colapinto for the first time at thirteen was probably the reason your whole trajectory changed. he was so carefree, happy, free to do as he pleased — you couldn't do that. you couldn’t remember why you had ended up at some karting championship in copenhagen now, but you were glad you did. you met him there, talked to him there, and he embarrassed himself with not knowing how to greet you there. you’d giggled, telling him he didn’t actually have to greet you with a bow like how they do it in the movies, and that was that.

you’d met him again at fifteen, and he hadn’t exactly learnt from his past mistakes . . . not that you minded. uttering a “i did some research” with a cheeky wink and a kiss to the back of your hand, your face had flushed a pink so bright that it had your mother thinking you’d come down with a sudden fever. it was sweet, he’d slipped you his email on a small tear-off bit of paper that he had prepared ahead of time, and you’d replied with the number that directed to the landline beside your bedside table. six months later, you were dating. 

YOU considered that maybe there was a little bit of jealousy bubbling up in your stomach when franco got his seat in formula one. you were so excited that he had finally achieved his dream that you’d turned the cottage you lived in together into a mini celebration: you made breakfast with a side of wine, then hopped on a plane to buenos aires so that he could go see his family about it. 

the one thing you had not expected was just how much he would be loved in the sport . . . by teenage girls. and girls your age. and journalists. and literally anyone who thought he was attractive. he had personality and was so much fun to talk to, but oh my god you did not think that the whole of the internet would start livetweeting about how they wanted to fuck him. 

in all fairness, they didn’t know about the two of you. it was fairly easy to hide when they had such a secluded cottage on royal grounds. your relationship was coming into its seventh year soon, you’d gotten engaged in january, and somehow it was still a secret with how much you two were public figures. 

it had been a few races too many now, and if anything, it had only gotten worse. maybe you were jealous because you hadn’t seen franco since he left for singapore, and the mexican grand prix had just ended. the only thing stopping you from going to instagram and posting a shit ton of photos and videos of you and franco together was the fact that you had just landed in brazil to see him now that you weren’t busy. 

you’d gotten good at the whole lowkey thing after years laying low as a royal trying to go out on dates with franco. all you had to do was toss on one of franco’s hoodies, pull the hood up over your head, and make sure you walked inconspicuously on your own. the bodyguards you had to have with you all dressed super casually also and trailed behind and in front a reasonable distance away until you were outside the airport and loading your bags into the back of a range rover. 

you dropped the hood the second you hopped into the backseat of the car, immediately launching yourself at your fiancé before the door was shut. franco laughed as he peppered delicate kisses across your face, each one more frantic than the last like you would disappear if he were to let go. you vaguely heard the door shut with thanks to the bodyguard walking around to the front seat of the car, and you made a mental note to thank him the moment you were all caught up with franco. “i missed you,” his tone was heavily accented in that voice that you loved so much, that voice that sounded so much better in person than it did in terrible quality over the phone.

“missed you more,” you mumbled softly, breathing in the subtle note of vanilla from his soap underneath the familiar cologne he always wore. you knew that the sooner you fastened your seatbelt, the faster you’d be driven to the hotel, so you hastily clipped it across you and snuggled back into franco’s side. “we are having words when we get out of this car,” you mumbled.

franco’s eyebrows furrowed, “we are?” he asked, and he felt you nod against his side. “right, we are.”

IT WAS NICE TO feel normal again. being with franco equalled feeling like you were a completely other person. you kept him separate and would be until you were married — he obviously didn’t accompany you to family events or royal appearances because you’d worked a deal out with your parents years ago to keep things private just until you were absolutely sure you were spending your life with him. his first public appearance would be your january wedding under glittering snowflakes. 

you were ready to break normal. the feeling had been crawling under your skin for months now, ever since he was called overnight out to italy and kickstarted his new career in being an international heartthrob who everyone was convinced was a playboy bachelor. he was nothing of the sort when he was currently cuddling into your side in his hotel room, half-asleep and trailing his fingertips up and down your thigh. 

“i don’t like seeing what people say about you online, you know,” you dared to finally bring up, months of jealousy trying to break free in your tone. franco could hear remnants of it clear as day, even in his tired state. “i can’t even say anything.”

he knew you weren’t dependent on your phone, it was only ever when he was away that you constantly had it on you to call, text and check F1 updates on twitter. at this point, the whole reason you had a phone was for him. of course you were in tune with what people were saying about him online. did you enjoy watching the tiktok edits people made? yes. that did not help your case in the slightest, though. “aw, baby,” he hummed, “what would you say?”

“that you’re my fiancé,” the label was still so new, so warm across your tongue. franco’s smile was immediate at the sound of it. “not theirs.”

“aw,” he cooed, “is someone a little jealous?” you groaned instantly, moving to push away from him. franco quickly sprung like some kind of trap, suddenly so awake as he wrapped his strong arms around you to hold you in place. “you are!” he laughed. “you are jealous!”

“. . . maybe,” you admitted, caving a little quicker than you liked. “it is hard not to be, no? look at all the attention you get from everyone else while i sit at home and have to watch.”

it had always been a difficult situation, he experienced the same jealousy on occasion, too. whenever you’d go to events with your family and were greeted by other nobles close in age to you or you were overly polite at fundraisers and celebrations, he saw it all when he turned on the tv or simply went online. it was so simple: your relationship wasn’t public – really, it was your own collective fault.

“we won’t have to deal with this for much longer,” he mumbled, and you felt each exhale brush through your hair; a soothing lullaby for you only. “january isn’t too far—”

“i don’t want to wait,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could even think about them. “i know we talked about it . . . but what if we just— just, i don’t know,” you stuttered uncharacteristically, shyly. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this way. “i don’t know.”

“you do,” franco kept his voice low, a gentle murmur that had you melting into his embrace impossibly further. “talk to me.”

your mouth fell open and then closed, then did it once more. you supposed it couldn’t be anymore embarrassing than that one time you had to admit that you liked him in front of four middle-aged bodyguards in a playground. that had been bad. this should be nothing. “i don’t want to hide anymore.” franco remained silent. “i want to hold your hand like . . . like how lily and alex get to,” it was the first example to come to mind, having seen them through lily’s account on instagram last grand prix. “but,” you quickly added, “if you don’t want to—”

“of course i want to,” franco chuckled to himself, “i wanted the privacy for you more than i wanted it for me.” he admitted it in a way that you knew wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, but you couldn’t really help but feel your heart sink a little in your chest. 

franco could feel the sudden drop, your souls intertwined long ago. “. . . that sounded terrible, i know,” he poked his fingers into your side, pulling gasped giggles from you. “but you’re technically more famous than i am,” there was subtle tease in his tone among the seriousness, “i wanted what was best for you, you know that.”

“mhm,” you hummed in thought, tapping your fingers against his. “i just don’t think i can wait anymore. i want to watch you in person, especially while you are at williams now. i don’t want to miss it.” you were his second biggest fan behind his family, and who knows when he would get the chance to drive a formula one car again? if you missed this now, you’d never forgive yourself for it. 

“okay,” he nodded, very chill about the whole thing. it wasn’t surprising, you knew he didn’t mind in the slightest. exposing your relationship just meant that he got to show you off to the world as if he were the luckiest man alive. showing you off to his close friends and family wasn’t enough anymore, and here you were giving him the chance. “how do you want to do this?”

the one thing you sadly couldn’t do was just show up with him when he was at the track. you sadly had to have at least two people with you for protection as your parents wished, and so more arrangements would have to be made and it would be a whole bigger deal than it should be. 

“hm . . .” you thought, trailing off as your hand slowly inched towards where your phone was sitting on the bedside table. “i have an idea.”

“can you do it later?” franco asked with a tired smile, sitting up to pull the blankets over the two of you and settling his neck to rest against your neck. “i want your attention now.”

“mhm, my love,” you turned your head to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, his soft curls tickling your lips. “get some sleep, i love you.”

“i love you more,” his voice reverberated against your skin, rumbling through into your chest. “so, so much more . . .” he trailed off into slow breathing, falling into an instantaneous sleep — the sleep he only managed to get when you were tucked safely into his side.

princessofdenmark: can u guys pls stop hitting on my fiancé now

[always-just-red]

hi rach ♡ for the christmas prompts, can i request zayne and 04? (and i hope you're having a good week! ♡)

Hiiii! Hope you're having a good week too, thanks for the request! 🥰💕 ALSO everyone say a big thank you to Rafayel, who had to physically restrain me throughout the writing of this fic for the safety of our dear doctor! No writing would have been done!!! 😇

A New Patient

Zayne x Reader ❄️

Prompt #014: on an ice rink, careful to dodge the bustling crowd that stumble and rush past.

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, super minor injury, a lil bit of PDA and a pinch of suggestion at the end (Zayne can't help it-- look at you!!!)

| Word count: 1.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Zayne! Zayne! Look, no hands!”

Mittened fingers wave in front of the doctor’s face, having finally— after a slow twenty minutes— left the ice rink’s railing. Clad in skates, your feet are still threatening to slip out from underneath you, even more so as you make your humble boast, and you wobble precariously.

Zayne chuckles, reaching to help steady your balance. “Impressive.”

“Right? Anyway, let go! I’ve so got this!”  

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent. Unhand me, sir.”

“As you command.”

His grip on you slips away as he takes an overtly confident step back. He’s sporting the same, enthralled smile of disbelief that lit-up the moment you set foot on the ice. The grace with which you evade and strike down Wanderers? Gone. The calm competence you employ when stitching a wound under his instruction? Gone.

The only thing you’ve managed to hold onto is sheer, near-delusional stubbornness, and Gods, he adores it. His silly, self-destructive Deepspace Hunter. He’s never been gladder to be a doctor; at this rate, you will be needing one.

A couple skate past you, giving you a wide berth, like the rest of the crowd on the rink. Zayne is acting as a sort of barrier, but he doesn’t really need to. You’re getting the same courtesy paid to you as the children here: space for mistakes. Space to slip over without taking anyone down with you.

Not far away, a man loses his footing, landing straight on his ass. He laughs unashamedly. You and Zayne both beam at him. See? It could be worse. Miraculously, you haven’t actually fallen o—

Something careens through your legs, and the next thing you know, you’ve crashed to the ice and you’re staring up at the sky, winded. Your breath aches as it comes back.

Zayne is saying your name: leaning over you, and— is he trying not to laugh?! His hand is over his mouth, but his eyes are creased so obviously. A single scrape in battle is worth making a fuss over, but this is funny? Nope. Nuh-uh. Get up, you have to kill him.

Just as you’re sitting up, rubbing your head, you spot the culprit of your fall. A little girl is slumped across from you, having similarly skittered down to the ice. Her eyes are wide with shock, and the second she meets your gaze she wails— sobs and cries stuttering out of her throat. Your blood goes cold.

“I’m so sorry!” exclaims a woman who has waddled frantically over to you, and the girl cries louder.

“It’s quite all right,” Zayne reassures, and is it? Is it really? “Accidents happen.”

The girl’s mother lowers herself, cooing and comforting, but the child is having none of it. Tears run down her puffy red cheeks. Snot leaks from her nose. Maybe you should start acting out too. I mean, you’re the victim here— hello?!

Zayne speaks from above you: “Here, allow me.”

Ever the angel on your shoulder, whispering into your ear; your valiant doctor stoops down beside you. He’s not even looking at you, but the sedative of his bedside manner still seeps through your aching body, inducing a sort of sleepiness.

The girl hasn’t stopped crying, and Zayne puts his hands together: ethereal, sparkling snowflakes emanating from between his palms. Still committed to the bit, the girl sniffles, but one eye is open, peeking: what is he—?

Zayne lifts one hand, and nestled in the other is a little, familiar snow seal. The girl gasps in delight.

“This is my friend,” Zayne smiles, indicating the creature. “Do you like him?”

The girl nods eagerly with another long sniff, captivated.

Zayne puts the seal to his ear. “Ah,” he nods, squinting thoughtfully as though he’s listening, “yes. I understand.” He turns back to the girl. “My friend would like to know if you are feeling all right. He asks—” he consults the seal again— “he asks if anything is broken?”

“I don’t think so,” the girl answers, shaking her head. Her voice wobbles with earnestness: she is very determined to not worry Mr Seal.

“Wonderful.” Zayne continues to translate: “Are you all in one piece? Do you have all your arms? Your legs?”

You think your heart is going to explode; the girl actually checks. “Yes!” she chirps.

“And your head?”

The girl’s hands fly up to her face. “Yes!” she confirms again.

Zayne nods, pleased. One last consultation with the seal, and... “My friend is very happy that you’re okay, but he’s still a little bit worried. Do you think he could stay with you? That you could look after him for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” the girl squeals, hands extended— reaching out. “Please!”

Her mother laughs, and Zayne chuckles too. Carefully, he sets the snow seal into the hands that are grasping towards him. The girl holds it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Her eyes are twinkling with awe and adoration. “I love him!” she squeals again. “I love him, I love him, I love him!” The seal is lifted so she can stare directly into its eyes. “I’m going to call you… Mr Fluffykins!”

It’s no Clopidogrel.

“That’s a very good name,” Zayne grins. “I think he likes it a lot.”

The girl’s mother helps her daughter up from the ice, although she doesn’t get any thanks; the child is babbling away in conversation with Mr Fluffykins, thoroughly enamoured. “Thank you,” the woman smiles gratefully at Zayne.

“It was no trouble,” he assures.

Was it no trouble? Neglected, forgotten— you cross your arms as your attacker is escorted away. Crouched before you, Zayne finally returns your gaze with a soft and dazzling smile. You won’t be charmed by it. “So,” you huff, “you’re just making seals for anyone nowadays, huh?”

He chuckles fondly, regardless of your pouted lips and wounded, narrowed eyes. “Would you like one as well?”

“No.”

“Good.” Good? He has some nerve, and no wonder an open chest cavity doesn’t faze him, for he leans in daringly close to whisper: “I don’t like it when other doctors poach my patients.”

His fingers are brushing your forehead, smoothing back a stray hair. “Mr Fluffykins comes highly recommended,” you let out on a weighty breath.

“Mr Fluffykins is overworked. Inundated with patients, I hear. So tell me…” His lips peck your cheek. “Is anything broken?”

“Everything.”

“I see.” Another kiss, on the tip of your nose. “And your limbs... all still attached?”

Your eyes have closed so you can savour the not-knowing of where each touch might come next. You smile, tilting your head to nod backwards: “One of my legs are over there.”

Zayne is grinning too. You can’t see it, but you feel it as his lips graze yours, not quite a kiss this time.

“How about it, Doctor Zayne?” You open your eyes as he draws back, and your smile is as dangerous as a beating, still-bleeding heart, at the mercy of his hands. “Think you can save me?”

He gently rises to his feet, steady on his skates as he reaches towards you. “I think,” he says, as you grasp his hand and haul yourself up, only to be trapped in his arms, against his chest with his lips by your ear, “we both know I can.”

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[thanosscross]

hiii I want to request twin! jiyong/bigbro!jiyong if that's okay loll. I always get the feeling that jiyong have a very soft spot for a younger sibling especially for a little sister. thank you!!

Oh he 100% would be, especially if you were in the K-pop world with him!!

Double, Double, Combo - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader + Twin! Kwon Ji Yong 1/?

Summary: The Kwon twins were powerful together, you and your slightly older twin brother Ji-Yong were like two halves of a whole, and everybody knew it. So what happens whenever your two K-pop groups combine tours together? Especially whenever your brother calls you out for a very noticeable crush.

Warnings: Mentions of a slight panic attack, reader getting injured, other than that, none lovelies <333

Translations:

Jagiya: Honey, Sweetie, Love, Darling (For this fic, we're going with darling)

Umma: Mother/Mom

Oppa: Older brother

Yeo-Dongsaeng: Younger sister

If I got any translations wrong please let me know!! As I am very rusty with speaking Korean, but I am learning! <33

The Kwon twins were something big that hit the K-pop industry in the early 2000s, Ji-Yong and Y/n taking over the industry by storm as soon as they were able to, you both had your own groups, your twin brother having his group, BigBang, while you had yours. Both groups being made up of four members, almost identical to each other, the only difference? Even down to both of you catering more towards females.

Ever since birth, You and Ji-Yong were close, always side by side, doing everything together, your brother even taking the initiative to help you with anything you needed for your career or group. You walked into the agency building, excitedly making your way towards your brother's dorm, excited to tell him your big news, busting into the room, you smiled at all four boys. "Did YG call you yet?" You smiled, making your way over to plop on the couch, leaning against your brother gently "No? Why? What'd we do?" Your brother asked nervously, relaxing whenever he saw your excited demeanor "Well...As of today! BigBang is officially combining their tour with ours!" You squealed excitedly "They figured if there was eight of us contributing to the concert, it'd be amazing! A-And YG said something could be added for our five year since debut!" You gasped, leaning forward in his face, watching as he smiled and giggled at your reaction "That's amazing!! We can actually hang out again!" Ji-Yong cheered excitedly, hugging you tightly as he looked towards the boys.

The first few nights of rehearsal were easy, everybody was excited to get back into working and preforming, but as the start date got closer, everybody was getting stressed out. As you stood on stage trying to run through your choreography, you heard your brother in the microphone again "No, Y/n, Aein-" He was cut off by your choreographer, she was nice, for the most part, but that's why you loved her, she wouldn't be shy about letting you know if something was wrong. "Y/n. How many more times do we have to stop you before you get it right? It's midnight, we've been on the same section of the same song for the last hour, what the hell is going on?" She snapped, normally, you could handle her harshness, usually it fuels you even more to make your shows perfect, but between your exhaustion, the combined stress of everybody that was working, and your growing frustration on this one move, you couldn't handle it tonight. As she continued to lecture you, you dropped down to a kneel, pinching the bridge of your nose in your hand as you tried your best not to cry. "Okay just stop! I-I can't do this! I can't! I fucking quit!" You shouted, storming off of the stage, trying to hold back your sobs until after you got the microphoned that was taped to your cheek, off.

Sitting in your dressing room, you tried your best to fix your make-up, you hated having meltdowns like that, especially in front of people, but sometimes your anxiety would just build and build until eventually, you'd meltdown, and everything would be okay again. You had always hated it about yourself, especially whenever people would refer to you as 'a ticking time bomb' like it was just a matter of time before you'd blow up. "Yeo-Dongsaeng" Ji-Yong whispered, opening the door to your dressing room slowly, his heart breaking whenever he saw you desperately trying to fix the ruined makeup that was smeared down your cheeks. "I-I..." You couldn't speak, not even knowing what you'd say if you could, your twin just walked over with a soft smile, pulling a chair up next to you. "You're okay, I know, honey" He whispered softly, grabbing one of your makeup wipes to start clearing off your face. "Seung Hyun is worried..you know, if you want to hide a relationship, he needs to stop worrying so much" Ji-Yong muttered quietly as he gently wiped the make-up off of your face, not missing the soft smile that made it's way onto your face. "Seung Hyun and I are not dating, we're just..really good best friends" You replied shyly, getting a bitch face from your brother "Okay, we've been around each other for almost 24 years now? So do you want to lie to yourself and me again?" He teasingly asked, chuckling softly as you nudged his shoulder gently, a blush covering your cheeks as he grabbed your make-up bag "What're you doing?" You asked, watching as he dug through it before finding the make-up you'd need "Helping my yeo-dongsaeng, because she needs her oppa" He smiled softly, you just sighed shaking your head "By a minute, Ji-Yong, sixty seconds" You reminded, he just laughed loudly shaking his head "Still older!" He protested, before grabbing your face gently as he helped with your eye make-up "There, perfect, Oppa Ji-Yong to the rescue!" He smiled, playfully standing up to do a spin "Thank you..Ji..for everything" You whispered, standing up to hug him tightly, you appreciated him more than words could describe. "Anyways! Seung Hyun?" He teased, changing the subject "Do you like him back?" He asked, watching as you covered your face quickly to hide your blush "No! I don't!" You protested, groaning as he just squealed pointing at your blush "You like him back! Yesss! You like Seung Hyun!~" He cheered, rushing down the hallway "Ji! Stop! Please don't!" You whined, chasing after him, never realizing that Ji-Yong's plan of getting you back out to rehearsals and in a better mood had worked.

You'd finish rehearsals without anymore hiccups, quickly being rushed off to the airport for the eight of you to fly to America for your US shows. Whenever you would do your final rehearsal before your show, the communication would be horrible, leading to your rehearsal with the girls to be right as they were testing the boys' stage lift. As you were ending your last song, you went to make your way to your mark, stepping into the giant 6-foot drop, where the stage lift was lowered, the only thing catching you from completely falling was your torso slamming against the stage, and your foot catching the metal framing underneath the stage. As the boys watched from their spots, they were quick to move, Ji-Yong making it to you before anybody else, even staff. As he helped you out and back on your feet, you winced, holding onto his arms tightly "No, No don't let go please" You begged, taking your weight off of your foot, holding onto his arm with one hand while holding your ribs with the other. Ji-Yong just wrapped his arms around you, glancing around panicked for the medic they had traveling with them for smaller things, while Ji-Yong always took care of you, and was slightly taller than you, he still couldn't carry you confidentially, not without you freaking out and thrashing around in his arm afraid to fall. "Hyung? Can you?" Ji-Yong asked nervously as he turned to Seung Hyun who stood next you both "Yea, yea, I'll get her backstage with the medic, Ji, I got this" He assured, going to wrap your arm around his shoulders, stopping whenever you whimpered in pain "Ok, Ok, we don't have to do that" He reassured, carefully moving his arms around you to pick you up, carrying you effortlessly backstage, your brother going to find whoever the hell lowered the lift while your rehearsals were running.

Sitting in your dressing room, you tried your best to stop crying, holding your shirt up gently so Seung Hyun could hold the ice pack to your side while you balanced one on your foot "Y/n, Jagiya, please take a breath" He pleaded, resting a hand on your cheek gently as he wiped the tears that fell "I-I feel so terrible!" You cried, hugging him tightly as he rubbed your back "I know, but Ji is going to explain, and doctors said you'll be better than ever for next show" Seung Hyun explained, trying to boost your spirits the slightest "Ji is coming back during our singles, and BigBang's show break, so he's going to come see you" He offered, you seemed to calm down slightly at that, knowing your brother would be brutally honest about how your absence affected the show. Seung Hyun would hold you close as you sniffled softly "Thank you..Seung Hyun, you're always so kind to me" You whispered, hugging him tighter before pulling away, trying your best to hide your blush as you heard the muffled voice from his earpiece calling him to the stage.

"I'll see you later okay? Ji and the others will come check on you whenever they can" He smiled, kissing the top of your head before rushing to stage, leaving you alone for awhile.

You were just about to fall asleep finally, whenever your door burst open, your brother having an evil smirk "So! We got an idea, and YG said we have to have your permission too, but we can do your set for you? If you want?" he offered, laughing loudly at your confused expression "W-Why would you do that?" You asked, sitting up to try and wake yourself up a little more "Well, Seung Hyun said something about you being really upset about working so hard just for the fans at this show not to see, so?..Can we? We look alike, and practically sound alike other than your high notes and my low notes" Ji-Yong pleaded, rushing over to sit next to you on the sofa, you just giggled looking at your brother "If you really want to, and you and the promise to take it seriously" You sighed, watching him jump up excitedly, cheering for a moment before sitting back down next to you. "How are you feeling, Honey?" Ji-Yong asked softly, checking your ankle and ribs, wincing whenever he saw the nasty bruise that was forming right at the bottom of your ribcage. "It hurts to breathe, or move, so laying down is hard" You sighed, trying to reposition yourself as you winced "Well hold on, I'll help" He laughed shaking his head "Umma gave you some of her beauty, none of her brains" he teased as he helped you lay down on the dressing room couch, you just swatted at his arm, glaring at him. "Careful or I'll call Umma and tell her you're being mean to her baby who's hurt- That you! Watched get hurt!" You giggled, watching as he whined softly "Don't be a tattletale, Y/n" He huffed, crossing his arms like he was a child again "Fine! Fine!" You laughed loudly, moving your head to rest it against his legs "Don't worry, you'll be back on stage before you know it, getting to dance with Seung Hyun again!" He teased playfully, giggling as your cheeks lit up again with a bright blush "Shut up!" You giggled, turning your head to look at him "Help me to stage? so I can at least watch you guys do my set" You asked softly, watching as he sighed smiling helping you to your feet "Okay, you know we're almost the same size, so this is going to be hard, okay?" He laughed, holding onto you tightly as you took a shaky step forward, you nodded giggling as your twin tried his very best to get you to stage, coming out successful as he helped you sit down off to the side, near V.I.P, per your request, if you couldn't perform for your fans, you could at least sit with them, while watching your brother, your crush, and their friends perform your setlist of songs.

--

You like? I plan on part two picking up right where part one left off, just because the boys doing girl group performances are always one of my favorites! <33 Lmk what you think lovelies! As always please let me know what you think, and I'm excited to hear from you! lovelies!! <333

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Taglist!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@lilou-0401

@maenoakasuna

@ericityyy

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

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@isssaaaa2111

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@sunhyeswife

@ilovethe141

@saraaisfree

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

Ok I am going to talk about something that's been on my mind recently.

Major warning ⚠️ might get deep.

Also ADHD RAMBLING SORRY IN ADVANCE 😔

Regarding Alastor and the Seven year absence. Ok so I see how In some recent posts people say Alastor must feel forgotten by the Hasbin crew, cause When Sir Pentious and Dazzle died they got a portrait and a statue. While Alastor got nothing. And Charlie thought he had died too.

But while that is true I'm surprised no one talks about how Alastor already felt Forgotten long before the fight. I'm talking about when he finally got home after 7 years disappearance.

My boy didn't get a Welcome home,( although he did get one from Carmilla later on)or a " Hey are you ok". Nothing. What does he get. Pushed around, Judged ( though it's quite understandable it's still wrong) and even told that he basically didn't matter. Remember the scene between Carmilla and Alastor. Alastor was basically asking her " Hey while I was gone, Did you at least think about me"?. And Carmilla response was definitely " Eh Not Really, But welcome back in any case".

Sure he looked pissed but if I was in his place I'd feel very hurt. I kinda noticed how everyone treats Alastor as if he is the worst thing in hell. When there so much worse * cough Valentino cough*

From what I understand he only targeted those that hurt others. Maybe Hell was pissed because in a way he was saving other souls. Taking them from their abusive owners. Which is fucked up but it's hell. What do you expect?

I firmly believe Alastor grew up in a abusive household and definitely witnessed his mother getting abused which definitely affected his psyche. Maybe his father killed his mother and after killing his father he vowed no one will ever go through what he went through.

So he targeted awful people and offed them. When he got to hell. I think he felt his work wasn't done yet and now he is in the land of abusers and monsters. Maybe deep down. He was the one SCARED 😨.

Maybe he killed so he could feel safe in a twisted way. He ended up selling his soul cause he was scared. His owner who i headcanon is like Mother Gothel definitely didn't help. She manipulated him into thinking she is keeping him safe. When In reality she was using him for his powers.

I also headcanon that ( now this is going to sound crazy) His owner forces him to dress and act the way he does. She wants to be the only one who can play with her toy. His owner definitely doesn't share. So she will try to make him look in her eyes unappealing. We all know this doesn't work though. As Vox had fallen in love with him.

Now I don't believe Vox ever hurt Alastor and as much as I love stories where he gets 😳 obsessed. I actually would be happy if they become best friends again and hope it was just a giant misunderstanding just like Fizz and Blitz.

Still something happened That hurt Alastor deeply that he now hates anything to do with television. My Headcanon is cause Vox started to spend more time with Valentino and accidentally leaving Alastor in the dark. Alastor enjoyed spending time with Vox. Going dancing at a club, listening to radio shows. Even cuddling in a blanket watching a movie. But I think the main reason he enjoyed Vox's company is cause, His owner couldn't touch him. She couldn't hurt him in any way.

Kinda like how a person wants there friend over so there abuser doesn't hurt them. The abuser won't cause they rather do their evil deed in secret.

In other words Alastor felt safe around Vox and when he started spending time with Valentino and less with him. His owner would hurt him.

But no one knew this cause Alastor always had a smile on his face. Always seemed sure and confident of himself. This is a perfect representation of " You don't know what happens behind closed doors". I think this was a learned habit from childhood too. Maybe after his father abused him or/and his mother he would threaten to kill them if they told or even showed any signs of abuse.

His owner definitely has that power. If she has the power to give him power then she has the power to erase Alastor from existence. I think she threatened his afterlife multiple times.

Anyway eventually Vox and Alastor have a big fight which pissed the owner off. And she took him away for seven years. Personally I am among those that think she TORTURED him during that time.

I think she let him out and told him to watch the princess and make sure no one gets redeemed. She sews a smile on his face so everyone thinks he is happy and fine. Again reference to what I said earlier.

Alastor goes back home and everything has changed. Probably a culture shock to him. He goes to the hotel and had to pretend everything is ok. Maybe he was all touchy feely with everyone cause he wants to feel safe and secure. Like he is finally home and not hallucinating. When he is pushed away he acts like it doesn't matter but I think it does. I think it hurts him deeply but because of the abuse he endured in childhood and his afterlife he puts up a front as a defense mechanism.

As Alastor told Charlie

" Just because you see a Smile, don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool my dear. It inspires your friends, Keeps your enemies Guessing and says no matter what comes your way, Your the one in control".

In a roundabout way he was basically calling for help without saying he needs help. Remember he can't tell her or anyone about what he went through. Of course In a way it means he is still a prisoner. His owner can take him away at any time and this definitely scares him. So he will do anything he can to prevent this from happening. Even making a deal with the princess of hell.

Anyway So while after the battle I think he felt Forgotten, I think he already felt that way. Like he doesn't matter and he wants to matter. His owner and father probably told him that he is worth nothing and no one will miss him while he is gone.

Well he was gone twice and NO ONE missed him.

That's very sad when you think about it and I'm surprised no one had brought it up yet.

Once again I apologize for my rambling thank you for reading

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Wrath of Wayne | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 1/3]

Synopsis: Brought to the dimension where his son is alive, Thomas Wayne makes it goal to put a stop on Bruce being Batman – and he will do it in whatever means necessary.

The speedster brought him here for a reason. He didn’t know what or why but the moment he saw him—them—he knew what it was. For the Reverse Flash it was revenge on the Bat for killing him, but for him… For him, this was what it was. His purpose. His son. The son he lost that day in Crime Alley, when Joe Chill shot him. The son whose death drove him to break his vows as a doctor and don the identity of the Batman to kill every criminal in that godforsaken city. The son whose death drove his wife to insanity until she became his very enemy. 

His love.

His nemesis.

The Joker.

He didn’t need to ask the speedster, who was long gone, nor the computer in his cowl to know that that man sitting on the roof lying on the ground with a woman in his arms was his son. He knew those eyes anywhere, and he imagined how Bruce would look like when he grows up from the moment the boy was born. 

Alfred would tell him countless times how Bruce looked so much like him from the photos of when he was young. With that in mind, Thomas Wayne imagined the face of his son if he had lived. If he had survived that night in Crime Alley. 

He was about to go to his son, to finally meet him, but then Bruce got up and put on his clothes, along with the red-haired woman who laid beside him on that cold roof. 

So, in this universe it was Bruce who took the cowl, then that means he was the one to witness death. It was Thomas and Martha who died that night in Crime Alley in this dimension. But that wasn’t all, the woman with him, Thomas knew that face all too well. Vivian. 

The young professor in Gotham University.

The witch.

The last good soul in Gotham.

His last ray of hope and reminder of his son and of Selina.

In this world, Bruce found Vivian and the two were in some sort of relationship, one he would later realize was in matrimony. The two have been married for decades and despite it, the wife and kids, and one they had just a year prior, Bruce kept the cowl. He kept being Batman.

Why?

Why wasn’t Vivian stopping him?

His Vivian told him to stop and when he didn’t she left, and just as she did — just like the others — she was taken from his world. Car accident, a drunk driver on the road. Thomas didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on him the moment he saw her lifeless body on the ground. 

How tragic. A woman with unlimited power killed by a car accident.

With that image in mind, Thomas knew what he had to do to save his son and the family he built. Bruce Wayne needed to stop being Batman. And how does he do that?

The only way he knows how to… he’ll bring him pain.

~*~

Waynes rise. Those were the words that Vivian remembered whenever she would walk past the Wayne family sigil in their library, which was actually a monogram of their family name, with the latin phrase of: resurgimus. We rise. 

A motto that the Wayne family kept from its founder and until it's living line. Bruce lived up to that phrase, even if he claims he mostly forgot about that phrase Bruce lived up to it. In every adversary he faced, and every rock-bottom he fell to, Bruce Wayne—Batman—rises. Stubbornness, Vivian would tease him whenever she could, but really it’s how he has always been. Defeat was not something that Bruce knows. Nor the world helps. It took her years before she could get him to ask her for help. It would often sound like a command, until, finally, he said “I need your help”. 

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked as he entered the library. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Val’s even had Ace and Echo and Gregory on the search.”

“Mumma!” Valerie reached out for her mother from where she sat on her father’s shoulders.

Smiling, Vivian took her daughter and engulfed her in an embrace, making the girl giggle. “Did you miss me?”

As a reply, Valerie kissed her mother’s cheek and played with her hair.

“Sorry,” Vivian said to Bruce. “I was… I don’t know, I had a — I had this feeling, like, something was calling me to come here.”

“To the library?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know what but it brought me here.”

To the sigil and to the portrait of his parents. 

“Is it bad?” Bruce asked, taking her hand.

“I don’t know. Sorry, not really helpful, huh?” Vivian shrugged.

“Maybe something is happening with the Endless, do you want to go and see?”

“No, if there is something Dream would come and get me. If he doesn’t, then it means they have it under control. Come on, let’s head down stairs, we promised the others a family dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” Bruce said but before they could leave, he pulled Vivian to him, covered Valerie’s eyes with his hand–making the girl whine–and kissed his wife. “If there’s anything, let me know.”

Smiling, Vivian kissed him again and said, “I will. Okay, okay, Dada, get your hand off of Val’s face before she gets fussy.”

Bruce removed his hand from Valerie’s eyes and the girl pouted at him. She’ll get over it after a while, Bruce said and joined his wife and daughter downstairs to be with their family. 

Unbeknownst to them, a figure stood not far from Wayne Manor, hidden in the blindspot of the security Bruce made for their home, and saw everything. This was the life his son was willing to risk for the sake of wearing that cowl?! A family, a happy life with a wife and daughter! A life with her! What can be better than this? Why risk it?

The thought itself erased every doubt he had in his plan. It was dirty and risky but Thomas Wayne knew it was the only way.

~ * ~

“I thought Falcone retired, isn’t he, like, a hundred years old now?” Nightwing mused as they chased up on a lead they got from the movements made by the notorious and oldest crime family in Gotham, that was far from their M.O.

“As long as he’s breathing, Carmine Falcone won’t stop trying to get control over Gotham,” said Batman through their comms as they watched from the rooftop as Falcone’s men pulled out of the warehouses to make the deliveries. Of what? That’s what they were going to find out, but first they needed to trace that delivery to where it was going.

Batman wouldn’t admit it but that night he saw Vivian staring at his parents’ portrait that had the Wayne family sigil on the frame  reminded him of the night of Mammon creeping out of hell to get to her. It brought bad omens to him, even when he didn’t believe in them at all. But after experience, seeing Vivian in a trance, feeling things she couldn’t understand meant something was coming. 

The vans that Falcone’s men drove to the harbor warehouse were filled with guns. Normal to find from them, Falcone deals with them too, but with that amount, along with the explosives, it was concerning. 

“This is more than just a delivery,” said Tim who met with them at the warehouse. “This is enough to supply a whole army.”

“Whose army?” Dick asked. 

Good question, and it was Jason who gave the answer.

“Maroni wouldn’t get these, and Mask has his own suppliers. There haven’t been any movements in the underground either, which means –”

“This is for them… all of this is theirs,” Batman concluded.

“A turf war?” Damian scoffed. “Have they learned nothing?”

“Not at this scale. Falcone has enough to arm every citizen of Gotham… but why? Why make this bold move?”

“It isn’t like him either,” Tim added. “He’s the type of guy who likes to play puppet. Remember the last mayor?”

“The one under Falcone’s pocket? Hard to forget, he kind of drove us out of Gotham for a while,” Jason shrugged.

“We’ll call it a night for now. Red Hood, I need you to keep looking in the underground, ask around if needed but do not engage,” said Batman.

Jason made a mocking salute. “I know that coming home was a bad idea.”

“Come on, chum, don’t act like  you don’t like it here,” Dick teased him.

“Shut it!”

~ * ~

Thomas Wayne remembered Carmine Falcone from his dimension. Like in this one, he too saved Falcone from a gunshot wound which made some sort of a connection between the Waynes and the crime family. Thomas thought of nothing on what Carmine’s father said about the Falcones and Waynes having been bonded with this act of kindness that saved his son, and he hasn’t thought of it for decades until now. 

Unlike the version of Carmine Falcone in his dimension, this one was alive and didn’t have a bullet hole between his brows. He was the one to pull the trigger that night when he went after every crime lord in Gotham. Here, Carmine had his control over the city, not as strong as it was when Bruce had not don the cape and cowl but he had his money and connections in the government. 

That was all he needed. 

When he visited Falcone that night, the man nearly had a heart attack when he took off his mask. Thomas Wayne, Falcon couldn’t believe his eyes when Thomas Wayne walked up to Falcone with his cowl down and the face of an old man. 

“Sei morto!” Falcone exclaimed.

He was. He never felt alive again after the death of his son.Truth be told he’s been a walking corpse for decades until he met Vivian Pryor, then he died again after she, too, passed. 

“You said our families are connected after that night… I’m here to collect a debt,” said Thomas.

He told him his plans, the secrets of his family and in return, Falcone promised silence. No one will know about what they talked about behind those doors, and if he ever says a word about those secrets he won’t hesitate to blow Falcone’s brains all over the carpet. With the goal in mind, Thomas let the man do his work, and as Falcone collected what he needed and plant tend to the seed that they have planted, Thomas made a risk.

He went to see Vivian.

Vivian likes taking Valerie out of the estate and walk around the park where she can play with the other kids her age. Jason has told her stop doing it after the incident of some pedophile taking photos of kids in the park, but Vivian promised to be extra careful, besides Val was missing the company of other kids too. While being born to one of the richest family in Gotham, living the life that can be associated to a royal, Vivian wanted her daughter to have the same childhood that she had. Or better.

She wanted her to meet kids and play with them.

She wanted her to trip and fall and get back on her feet with muddy shoes and clothes.

She wanted Valerie to have a sense of normalcy which was far from what their household could offer.

“Val, be careful now!” Vivian called out to her daughter as one-and-a-half-year-old Valerie held on the seesaw handle while playing with the other kids. 

Cassandra and Duke, who joined them that day, got up from their seats and decided to join the kids at the seesaw, just to add weight and get it to actually work. With Duke holding Valerie, and Cassandra holding the other kids, they went up and down, getting laughter from the young ones.

“How old is she?” A man’s voice broke Vivian’s gaze from her daughter. The man stood just beside the bench she sat on, he wore a white shirt, had a thick-white bead, thick glasses, and a baseball hat.

Vivian didn’t answer, she only looked at the man with a quizzical gaze.

“I’m not a creep, if that’s what you’re worried about…” the man said, his voice a little familiar but she couldn’t put a finger on it. Why is that? “She reminds me of my granddaughter.”

“Where is she? Your granddaughter?” Vivian finally spoke.

The image of the accident flashed in his eyes. Thomas Wayne had to shake his head to rid of the sight of Vivian’s mangled body and focus on the Vivian that sat there, alive… and married to his son.

“Car accident. She and her mother were in a car accident.”

No lies, Vivian sensed. Just sadness.

“I’m so sorry,” Vivian said. “But I still can’t give you my daughter’s age, I’m sure you understand that.”

Thomas chuckled. “I do. And that’s smart of you. You’ll never know, right?”

“Yeah… ever since she was born, everyone wanted a piece of her. The press, Gotham, and even those disgusting people… my son – one of my sons – was against the idea of me taking her here but she would always ask if we’ll go to the park so she can play with the others.”

“She’s friends with everyone,” he observed the girl as she laughed with the other kids.

“Yes, she is… sometimes I wonder where she got it.”

“I’m sure it’s from her mother.”

Vivian was always welcoming. Always finding a way to start a conversation. It was those talks that had him drawn to her.

“My husband says the same thing,” Vivian chuckled.

Right… Vivian married Bruce in this world.

“I see… she looks a lot like you.”

“Really? It’s more of a mix.”

It was but all Thomas could see was Vivian in the girl’s face. The smile, the eyes, and even the laugh. When he saw Valerie had enough of the seesaw and was gesturing for Duke that she wanted to go down, Thomas knew that his time was up.

“Are you happy?” Thomas asked before Duke and Cassandra would return with Valerie.

“What?”

“Are you happy with this life of yours? Is it perfect?”

“Perfect? Perfect is too much to use something to describe life… nothing can be perfect, even gods can't be perfect, there are bumps along the way, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, yes, I am happy.”

“You have no regrets?”

“None.”

Thomas frowned. “I see.” He hesitated with his next question, wondering if it was worth it to give himself that pain of knowing. “And your husband, does he make you happy?”

Vivian looked at him in question and answered, “Very much. I wouldn’t imagine a life without him… I couldn’t. Bruce is everything to me.”

His Vivian never said those things to him. Maybe with good reason too. Maybe Vivian Pryor will always be for Bruce Wayne, no matter in whatever dimension they are. If one of them is gone, it won’t be long until the other is too.

“I think your kid is coming in hot.”

Vivian turned to Valerie and saw her running towards her, before Val could stumble, Vivian got down and caught the girl in her arms. 

“Did you have fun?” Vivian asked as she wiped the sweat off of Valerie’s forehead.

“Dada?” Valerie asked, her gaze over Vivian’s shoulder following the silhouette of the broad-shouldered man that was leaving.

“Okay, let’s head home to Dada,” Vivian carried Valerie in her arms and asked Duke and Cassandra to bring the baby bag. Just as they were to leave, Vivian turned to the direction of the man but he was gone as if he was never there.

Strange.

Very strange.

And it was only now that she realized how strange it was to have his presence around her. It wasn’t normal. 

“Mom,” Cassandra called for her.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything alright, Mrs. P?” Duke asked her.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Vivian said. “Let’s go home.”

~ * ~

“You’ve been distracted lately,” The sound of her husband’s voice pulled Vivian from her reverie. Before she could turn to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her nape. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Vivian asked.

Leaning in, Bruce blew hot hair on the glass panel of their bedroom window. A symbol appeared, it had two faces that were inside-profile and attached to each other at the back of their heads. The symbol of Janus. The god of gates and doorways, beginnings, endings, transitions, time, duality, passages, and frame.

“Vivian, what's going on?” Bruce asked, worry laced in his voice.

“I honestly don't know… I've been feeling off lately. And this symbol, it's Janus.”

“The god of doorways.”

“And many other things that associate with doors, transitions, time, passage…”

“Gates to other dimensions?” Bruce guessed.

“A stretch but given the things we deal with almost every week, yes.”

“I'll head to the League to see if there is any disruptions in our readings,” said Bruce.

“Val misses you,” Vivian began. “I miss you. Can't this be done through a call instead?”

Bruce looked at his wife and saw the sadness in her eyes. She didn't want him to leave. All day she's been feeling this and while she had Valerie and their other children, she didn't feel as safe as she would be when he was around. Taking off his jacket, Bruce wrapped it around her and brought Vivian to an embrace.

“I'll contact J'onn and ask for a report. Unless he says there is, I'll stay here and tomorrow I'll head to the Tower,” he told her.

Vivian nodded to his conditions. “I'm fine with that.”

“Do you need a distraction?”

“This is all I need,” she brought him to an embrace. “But thank you, I might consider it tonight.”

“If that's the case,” Bruce reached down and lifted Vivian off the ground, and had her wrap her legs around him as he carried her to their bed. “Val's asleep already, and Dick said he'll take lead on patrols tonight, and Alfred's resting, we have some time to ourselves.”

When her back felt the bed, Vivian welcomed Bruce's kisses and said to him, “Just lay beside me, my love.”

“I will, but let me kiss you first,” he said between kisses.

When he was sure he has kissed every inch of her on her face, her neck and her chest, Bruce laid in bed and had Vivian in his arms. They stayed there in silence and only listened to each other's breathing. As she held her husband, Vivian thought back to the man who approached her at the park bench asking her about her life, her family, and her husband.

Was this a perfect life? Far from it. But she was happy. She said it to Bruce countless times how, for the first time since her mother died, she felt whole again. Being with him filled that emptiness. There was no other life she would imagine.

~ * ~

It wasn't the alert from the Justice League on any anomaly nor from the Dick on the case with Falcone. It was Barbara who woke from his sleep with a panicked voice saying that Arkham Asylum is rioting. Every prisoner--patient--there were free. Bruce jumped out of bed immediately, picking up his clothes from the floor as he made his way to the wardrobe where he kept one of his uniforms.

Following her husband, Vivian dragged along the blanket they shared to cover her nude body and watched as he put on the suit, the cape, the belt, but before he could put on the cowl, she took it from his hands, letting he blanket fall to the ground, then got on her toes to kiss his lips and said, “stay safe, and come back.”

She knew the gravity of this emergency, she heard it from Barbara's voice, and the last time Bruce had to face something this serious he almost never made it back. It reminded her of the many times she almost lost him.

But he was Batman.

He is a Wayne.

And Waynes rise.

“I will,” Bruce promised her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close to kiss her again, deeply this time.

Breaking the kiss, Vivian placed the cowl over his head, masking the half of his face. 

Taking the robe he offered from her closet, Vivian joined Bruce as he walked to their daughter's nursery. He carefully bent down to lift Valerie from her bed and kissed her cheek. Valerie smiled in her sleep and whispered, “Dada,” and nuzzled close to her father's face.

“I'll be back, Val,” Bruce told her before setting her down in her crib and went to the cave. The last Vivian saw him was getting in the Batmobile and driving away, leaving her with Alfred and their daughter with no way of knowing of what's to come. 

~ * ~

Thomas Wayne knew of Vivian's parentage. The Vivian from his world told him about it at one of the nights where he found a moment of happiness. The one he used to have with his wife, but now he found it with another woman. It was wrong, given their age difference, but he can say she enchanted him. Maybe it was her magic---he'd like to think that just to justify what they did---but he knew it was simply him unable to control himself.

Even a man who has lived a nightmare and has fallen into this pit yearns for happiness, even if it was just for one moment. 

“My Mother is a witch,” she told him when he asked about her tattoo. “An immortal witch. Rather, she was one. She was born during the first settlement of Gotham, almost got burned for being a witch. Then centuries later, she caught the attention of the God of Dreams, Morpheus, and they had me. Morpheus wanted to take me with him because of the power I had, but my mom refused, so she hid me from him with some spell.”

From then on, Thomas Wayne read about the God of Dreams, their kind, and learned about the history of Roderick Burgess, a man who was also know as the Magus, and for trapping the Devil in his basement. But that Devil turned out to be Lord Dream himself. He used a book called the Magdalene Grimoire to trap the Endless in a circle. 

He found the Magdalene Grimoire, read through its pages then and kept it with him. 

In this world, it took him days to find the Magdalene Grimoire, and connections in the underground. It was the Ventriloquist who found it for him, rather it was Scarface who did, along with the requirements for him to complete the ritual. 

While Bruce was busy in Arkham, Thomas Wayne had a job to do. And he cannot let anyone else do this. He can't trust any of them with her. 

There was an intruder in the manor. Handing her daughter to Alfred, Vivian armed herself with her Phoenix form and scouted the place. Then there he was. A man standing in the shadows.

Lighting the room with her magic, Vivian gasped at the sight before her. 

It was Batman… but not her Batman. 

This Batman was different, from the uniform, the age, and the demeanor. This was not her Bruce. And this Batman held a gun too.

“Who are you?” Vivian questioned him.

“I am sorry, my dear,” this Batman spoke. “But I cannot have you intervening.”

“You're going to tell me who you — what?” 

Her magic, it wasn't working and… sand? Was she turning to sand? 

“Coin and Song, Knife and Stick… Claw and Name, Blood and Feather…” the man began the spell. 

That spell! Vivian knew that spell. Her father, Dream, told her about it. And the book! He has the Magdalene Grimoire.

“NO!” Vivian tried to fight it but her body turned to sand and blew across the room until it formed inside a glass dome with a summoning circle to keep her imprison. Getting on her knees, she tried to break the glass with her fists or use her magic, but nothing. She can't do a thing. “LET ME OUT!” Vivian ordered.

The man walked towards her, making sure to not let his cape brush over the circle. He can't let her escape and have a chance to use her magic. 

“I apologize, my dear,” he spoke. “I promise you, once we have broken down your husband and he finally submits, I will free you so you can help him back again… and we can be a family without the Batman.”

“Who are you?” and how did he know about Bruce being Batman? What was happening? Vivian has been trying to figure out what was going on for days now, and it seems all those times she finds herself in a trance, the symbols she would write on the window, it was an omen of what's to come. But who is this man?

“Ms. Vivian!” She heard Alfred's voice.

No! 

“ALFRED, DON'T!” Vivian hit the glass over and over, hoping the butler would hear her. “GET OUT OF HERE! TAKE VAL AND GO!”

“Ms. Vivian! Master…” Alfred trailed off as he came to the room, in shock to find Batman. But this was not Bruce Wayne.

“ALFRED, RUN! TAKE VAL AND RUN!” Vivian begged him to. “PLEASE!”

The man turned to Alfred, giving the butler a view of Vivian trapped in the glass, and the face on who he was. Alfred gasped when he took off the cowl.

“It can't be,” Alfred said.

The cries of a child broke their silence, and before Alfred to move, Thomas Wayne knocked him out by hitting him with the gun at the back of the head, and disappeared out of the room. He was gone for a time until he came back with Valerie's cries growing louder and louder. Valerie cried as Thomas held her in his arms, cradling her in hopes of stopping her cries.

“LET HER GO!” Vivian continuously hit the glass, not caring if her hands were already bleeding. “HURT HER AND I SWEAR, I'LL--”

“I will never hurt her,” the man said, and placed a kiss on Valerie's forehead. “She's family after all… my blood. My granddaughter.”

It was then that Vivian saw the resemblance of the man before her to the portrait of Thomas Wayne in the library. 

Valerie's cries grew louder and louder and she tried to reach for her mother and Alfred. Why was her mother in a glass and why was Alfred sleeping on the floor? She wondered, but she can't ask them nor can she go to them because this man, this Batman, was holding her. Keeping her from them.

“Mumma! Dada!” Valerie cried. “Dada!”

“Please,” Vivian begged, tears rolling down her face. “Please, give her to me. Thomas, please…”

Thomas Wayne turned to Vivian and had Valerie close to him and said: “Hush now, my dear, I promise this will all be over soon.”

~ * ~

It was Bane who did it and under Falcone's influence too. Batman didn't know how or why Bane agreed to it but this was the reality now. With Falcone's men releasing all of the patients in Arkham, Bane became its “acting warden” and made the asylum a fortress. Jim Gordon had the GCPD outside, trying to keep anyone from escaping but for some reason, while everyone is roaming free no one was leaving Arkham Asylum.

Normally he would have had backup with him, but as he drove to Arkham, the Falcones started their movement in Gotham too. It was a turf war in the streets, as Red Robin reported. So, he had his Robins handle the wars, disarm them all and get a hold of Gotham with the little manpower that the GCPD could give. Him? He'll deal with Bane and every criminal he sent to Akham.

He put them there once, he can do it again this time. 

Upon entering, he was met by the sight of Bane. Bane wasted no time in making himself known and attacking him there. He knew he stood no chance against the man, especially with the venom, but Batman held his ground.

Waynes rise.

And he did, he rose and he would have taken down Bane if it not for the other player who has been in the shadows all this time. 

“Good job, my boy.”

That voice…

Turning, Bruce met the sight of another Batman.

“Know this, I am proud of the man you have become, but this must stop or they will pay the price.”

On one of the monitors in the halls, this Batman played a recording that came from Wayne Manor. In the first monitor, Bruce saw Alfred holding Valerie as his daughter cried in the man's arms while they were being held at gunpoint, then at the second monitor, he saw a glass dome inside of a circle and holding it was Vivian who was still trying to get out by punching the glass even if it meant breaking her bones all so she could get to their daughter.

“No…” Bruce whispered.

“I have your family, your wife will give it up now?” said this imposter Batman.

Glaring at him, Bruce only said, “You just pissed me off even more.”

“Fine then, it seems you need more than just one beating to break you. I should know known, you are my son after all,” the imposter Batman pulled down his cowl and revealed his face.

“Father?!” Bruce gasped.

Then Thomas Wayne grabbed his son by the head and slammed his face to the concrete floor, knocking him out completely. He has put the fear of helplessness in him and it only brought out rage. Then he shall bring him endless nightmares… just like what his Vivian had shown him before.

[thebunnednun]

Toast 6.

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Katsuki Bakugou x Ex!Pro hero!Reader x Best friend!Pro Hero!Hitoshi Shinsou

Katsuki has competition for you and his daughter.

Chapter 6: Park Party

You meet with Katsuki for your grandmothers will, He and bestie Hitoshi get into a fight, and your daughter Asuna almost dies. Plus, you get arrested! :D   Good day huh?

Music:

1.Like Him 2.Me and your Mama 3.Fight night 4.Nightmare

Special shout out's to @rosaline756 who is sick AND @elarakive who is the inspo behind our manager. Also to @1chaerry for being lovely.

Her head whipped around to see Rumi and Eri approaching from behind. Katsuki glanced up at the sound, his face flushed as he quickly diverted his gaze. Eri, looking slightly apologetic, gave her a reassuring smile. 

“See, she’s fine!” Rumi called out, her voice carrying over the park's bustle.

Rumi’s expression softened as her gaze flicked to the pair Asuna was with. Once she spotted Katsuki, her eyes narrowed, then widened in recognition, and a brief but friendly exchange passed between him and Rumi. 

“Where have you been?” Rumi asked, her tone tinged with concern.

Asuna shrugged, passing Eri the soda. Eri took it from her with a grateful smile. “I had to use the bathroom and got caught up talking to Crybaby,” Asuna explained casually, brushing off the awkwardness of the situation.

Rumi squinted at her suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “You took that long to use the bathroom?” she asked, though she agreed after a moment. “Guess we got worried when you disappeared like that.”

Just then, Katsuki’s eyes scanned the park, and he noticed you chatting with some of the other mothers. He straightened up, preparing to leave. "See you," he said to everyone, his gaze locking on Asuna again as he spoke. 

“Bye, Asuna,” he added, his voice softer now.

Asuna smiled and nodded. “Thanks for the almonds,” she replied, watching as he turned and made his way toward the exit. After Katsuki disappeared into the crowd, Asuna’s face lit up with a sudden, unexpected energy. 

“I want to play hide and seek,” she announced enthusiastically.

Rumi blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. 

“Hide and seek?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Asuna nodded, grinning. “It’ll only be fun if we get to hide from a real pro hero,” she added, her eyes glinting with excitement.

Rumi chuckled, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re right, that does sound fun.” She paused, glancing at Eri, and then gave Asuna a stern look. “But don’t go too far. Same goes for you, Eri.” The two girls nodded eagerly in agreement, and Rumi, after a deep breath, began to count aloud, her voice booming over the sound of the bustling park.

Asuna and Eri darted off as quietly as they could, weaving through the crowds before slipping behind a nearby tree. Asuna, finally feeling like she had a moment of peace, turned to Eri, her expression serious now. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to get closer to mom and hear what they talk about—especially you know who.”

Eri raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. “If that’s what you need, I’m down to help. We just can’t get caught,” she whispered back, a mischievous spark in her eye.

Asuna grinned, teasing her. “Oh, so now you’ve got a cheeky streak in you, huh?”

Eri smirked back. “I’m always down for helping you out,” she said, sounding more confident than she usually did. 

"Let's just make sure Rumi doesn’t catch us."

The girls scrambled out of the tree and each popped an earbud in their ears, calling each other on their phones to stay in touch while they split up. Asuna glanced over her shoulder at Eri, offering a low warning. 

“Stay sharp, Rumi can be unpredictable.”

“And she hears everything!”

It was nearing 12:30 when you prepared to leave, the weight of the conversation with the other mothers lingering in the air. You were just about to turn to gather your things when you heard your name being called. 

You froze. 

‘Oh, God.’ 

You know that voice—

You turned, your heart sinking. Of all the times for him to show up.

The other mothers in the group instantly went quiet, eyes widening as they saw him—a towering figure, blonde hair tousled, his muscular build making his presence undeniable. He was easily 6’4, with broad shoulders and intense red eyes that seemed to cut through the crowd as he walked straight toward you.

“Oh!” one of the mothers exclaimed, her voice full of awe. “Wow, he’s a looker, isn’t he?” The comment sent a flutter through your stomach, something unfamiliar pulling at your chest. You quickly shook off the feeling, mentally snapping back into reality. ‘ Calm down,’ you told yourself. He was just here to drop off pictures. That’s it. Just business. ‘ Rita’s will.’ Nothing else.

‘Are those new piercings?’

You kept your posture composed, the slight upward curve of your lips revealing none of the inner chaos sparked by Katsuki’s sudden appearance. As he approached, the wind caught his hair, making it tousle just slightly, and the taut fit of his winter uniform even with the jacket thrown on highlighted every curve of his muscular frame. His presence alone had a gravitational pull, drawing attention effortlessly.

One of the mothers beside you let out a surprised gasp, her voice tinged with curiosity and excitement. 

“I didn’t know he was your husband!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with awe.

The word “ husband ” stopped your brain in its tracks. 

For a moment, all thought ceased as you stared blankly ahead. Your mouth opened, a correction poised on your tongue, but no sound came out. The group had gone silent, and their gazes had shifted upward. Slowly, you turned, catching sight of him.

Katsuki. 

He nodded in greeting, his sharp eyes meeting yours briefly before sweeping over you. He seemed to drink in every detail, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering.

He stood just a few feet away, watching you intently. The way your coat wrapped around you, snug but stylish, gave you a sleek silhouette that made him take a second glance. Your braids were freshly redone, each one pristine and framing your face in a way that made his heart beat a little faster. The boots on your feet looked both practical and chic, hugging your calves in a way that he found annoyingly captivating.

Then there was your lip gloss—wine-colored, glistening even under the cold, grey sky. It seemed to defy the dreary weather, standing out against the neutral tones of the park. He found himself fixated, his eyes lingering longer than they should. The rest of your makeup was light, subtle, but it enhanced the natural warmth of your features. Or maybe it was just your eyes. 

There was something about the way they flickered, soft and warm, that made him feel strangely entranced.

He couldn’t help but notice a faint pink tinge on your cheeks and nose, likely from the chill in the air, though part of him liked to imagine it was something else—something his presence might have caused. He knew it wasn’t possible; your quirk didn’t allow for it. Still, the idea of it made his chest tighten in a way that was both irritating and exhilarating.

You always had this effect on him, though he’d never admit it. 

The way you held yourself, so calm and collected on the outside, made him want to know what was beneath that surface. And today, in this cold park, with the lingering scent of roasted almonds in the air and the subtle hum of Christmas lights flickering in the distance, he found himself drawn to you once again.

Katsuki isn’t speaking, but his eyes are busy. They flicker between the photos, you, and the distant spot where he last saw Asuna. His gaze lingers on you, absorbing every detail—the way your sweats hug you perfectly, the subtle glow of your eyes, the delicate beauty of your lips. Time hasn't stopped for you, and he can see it in every nuance of your appearance, every quiet moment captured in the pictures between you.

Katsuki isn’t speaking, but his eyes tell you the truth. 

They drift between the photo album resting on your lap, the way you sit beside him, and the direction where he last saw Asuna. His gaze settles on you, lingering on the curve of your cheek, the gloss of your lips, the freshness of your braids. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, as though he’s trying to memorize every detail, to capture this moment and hold it close. 

Time hasn’t stopped for you, and Katsuki can feel its passage in every quiet glance, every unspoken word between you.

You glance up and catch him looking. 

Something flickers across your face—hesitation, maybe, or the weight of something you’re not sure how to share. Katsuki knows you too well to miss it. He sees the slight furrow of your brow, the way your fingers trace the edges of the album, and he knows something’s on your mind. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern and curiosity, and the silence between you stretches, taut and trembling.

“ Uh ,”

“ I –,”

Both of you move to speak at once, your words tangling in the air. You stop, laugh softly at the awkwardness of it, and gesture for him to go first. He shakes his head, lips pressing into a thin line. 

"No, you go," he says, voice low, rough around the edges. You meet his eyes, a silent conversation passing between you, and in the end, you both pause, hesitant.

Katsuki breaks the stalemate with a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair before slouching down to meet you at eye level. His expression softens, the tension in his shoulders easing as he tries to find the right words. 

"I didn’t mean to push your boundaries last night," he says, his tone sincere, even if a little rough. 

"But everything else I said...it still stands."

You nod, taking a steadying breath. "It’s been too many years to keep going like this," you reply, your voice soft but firm. Your thumb brushes over the edge of the next page in the album, the decision to tell him about Asuna weighing heavily on your mind. Not yet, you think. You need to talk to her first, to make sure she’s ready before you share this with him. The thought brings a pang of anxiety, but you push it down for now.

You flip the page, and the sight that greets you steals your breath. 

The photograph captures a candid moment of you and Katsuki seated on the front steps of Rita's house. 

The sun bathes the scene in a warm, golden glow, casting soft shadows that add depth to the image. Both of you are mid-laugh, the kind of laughter that comes from a shared joke or a funny mishap, your faces illuminated with unguarded joy. Katsuki's usual sharp features soften, his smile wide and genuine, while your eyes sparkle with happiness, the two of you caught in a moment that feels untouched by the world’s worries.

The series of pictures that follow tells a story of your shared journey. In one, Rita stands in the kitchen, her hands guiding Katsuki as he attempts to recreate your favorite meal. His brows are furrowed in concentration, a stark contrast to the satisfied grin he flashes once Rita pats his shoulder in approval. You can almost hear the cursing and smell the familiar scents wafting from the stovetop.

Another photo shows the two of you back-to-back before a school dance, dressed in your finest. Katsuki’s suit fits him perfectly, his usual scowl replaced with a slight smile. Your dress flows elegantly, his accessories made to match your attire. Both of you are looking over your shoulders, the excitement and anticipation of the night ahead captured perfectly in your matching grins.

You flick your eyes and the next photo is perhaps the most heartwarming of all. It's from a Christmas spent together, surrounded by the warmth of family. The two of you are sprawled out on the floor, amidst a sea of wrapping paper and ribbons. 

The TV is tuned to an American Christmas movie about burglary, the fireplace is well lit and devoid of stockings. Rita has a cup of coffee steaming on the side table, her glasses hanging from her neck while she takes a shot with Mitsuki, who is on the couch wrapped up in Masura’s favorite blanket, while he handles the camera.

You are nestled inside a large box, a playful smile on your sleeping face, as if the box is the coziest bed in the world. Katsuki sits nearby, his gaze fixed on you, a softness in his eyes that rarely surfaces. It’s a look of contentment, of quiet admiration. Unbeknownst to him, the camera captures the moment he leans in slightly, his expression one of pure adornment before he’s caught in the act.

That Christmas. 

The warmth of the fire, the laughter that filled the room, the sense of belonging that felt so fragile and yet so real. The memories are vivid, each image stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing. The next page shows a group photo of the whole family, including you and Rita, all smiles and togetherness. The happiness in that picture feels like a world away from where you are now, and the weight of it hits you hard. 

Tears well up, unbidden, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. But the memories, the emotions—

They’re too much to hold back.

Katsuki notices. 

His hand reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting gently on yours. The warmth of his touch grounds you, and when you look up, you see that same weight mirrored in his eyes. He’s thinking about it too—the time that’s passed, the things left unsaid, the moments you can’t get back. He’s thinking about Asuna, about you, about the family you once dreamed of having.

You can feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, the one you’re both too afraid to voice. 

Where did the time go? 

And can you ever find your way back?

Katsuki's heart is pounding like a war drum as he stares at you, watching the tears roll down your cheeks. His mind races, every instinct screaming at him to do something—anything—to take away your pain. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms before muttering a soft, 

" Fuck it ."

He drops to his knees in the grass in front of you, his hands reaching out tentatively before cupping your face. His warm thumbs, surprisingly soft and gentle despite the callouses from years of training, begin to wipe away your tears. His touch is hesitant but tender, as if he's afraid of breaking you.

"Stop," you whisper, trying to pull back, your voice trembling. 

"I don't want to cry here... not in front of—"

But before you can finish, you're enveloped in a solid warmth, Katsuki's strong, muscular arms wrapping around you. He pulls you close, his grip firm yet comforting, like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. You feel the wetness of his tears falling onto your scalp, and the slight tremor in his body tells you that he’s crying too.

The realization hits you like a wave—

Katsuki Bakugo, the man who rarely showed vulnerability, is breaking down with you. 

Again.

You hesitate, your body stiffening for a moment as you wrestle with the propriety of this public display, with the weight of everything that’s happened: The villain attacks, the memory of holding Rita’s hand as she passed, the countless hours spent as a hero, and the challenge of raising Asuna. 

It’s been so much, too much, and you’ve held it together for so long.

But your heart, your exhausted, battered heart, has had enough. 

It craves the comfort of this moment, the safety in Katsuki’s arms. 

With a shaky breath, you let go of the restraint you’ve clung to for so long. Your arms wrap around his broad back, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you press yourself closer to him. The dam breaks, and you allow yourself to sob, the sound muffled against his chest.

Katsuki holds you tighter, his own tears mixing with yours as the weight of years spent apart, the missed chances, the unspoken words—all of it—comes crashing down. His hand cradles the back of your head, the other resting on your back, his fingers splayed out as if anchoring you to him.

You both cry, your tears mingling with the chill in the air, but for once, the cold doesn’t matter. The world fades away, leaving just the two of you, connected in this raw, unfiltered moment of shared grief and long-buried affection.

He never did stop loving you. How could he? Even through all the years apart, that love lingered, simmering beneath the surface, unspoken but always present. And in a way, you never stopped loving him either. How could you? Katsuki helped give you the most precious part of your life—your best friend for life. The thought sends a pang through your heart, a reminder of something important.

“Oh, shit ,” you whisper, your mind racing. 

"Asuna ."

You sniff and turn your face up toward Katsuki, who’s looking at you with a mixture of concern and something softer—the fucking face that makes your heart ache. 

Before you can react, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and uses it to gently wipe your nose.

The unexpected gesture makes you blink, your cheeks heating as you catch a glimpse of his well-defined abs. The sight is brief, but it lingers in your mind, reminding you how long it’s been since you’ve really noticed someone like that.

Sure, Mina dragg’s you out to clubs, and you’d gone to Class 1-A’s get-togethers to keep up appearances. But it wasn’t the same. The casual flings and fleeting attractions never filled the void.

Even the times you’d helped Hitoshi with his laundry brought a sense of familiarity, but not the spark you felt now.

You blink hard, trying to shake off the thoughts of Hitoshi.

This moment was about you and Katsuki, not the tangled mess of your other best friend asking weird questions.

Wind picks up, rustling the trees around the park, sending leaves spiraling through the air. Both of you react instinctively, grabbing the binders and photo albums before they can scatter. You stuff them back into Katsuki’s bag with hurried hands, both of you laughing softly at the urgency.

"Here," Katsuki says, offering you the bag. His voice is firm but gentle, his eyes locked on yours.

You start to protest, shaking your head. “I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he cuts you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands linger on the bag for a moment longer before letting go, and you feel the weight of it, not just physically but emotionally.

You accept it with a small nod, glancing down at the bag. A flicker of curiosity prompts you to unzip the pocket and pull out a binder, the one with the freeze-lock. 

It really is Rita’s will, intact and pristine. 

A wave of emotion washes over you as you thumb through the pages, the reality of it crashing on you.

You close the binder and slip it back into the bag, zipping it closed with a sigh. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the distant chatter of children playing blending with the rustle of leaves and the hum of traffic in the background.

"I need to return your jacket from last night," you say, breaking the quiet.

Katsuki blinks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion for a moment before realization dawns. He’d forgotten you still had his jacket.

“ ’S fine,” he replies, his voice low and soft. “Keep it, long as you need.”

The simple offer carries more weight than you expected, and you find yourself considering again, a small, grateful feeling tugging at your heart. You glance around, noticing the park beginning to clear as parents gather their children, the chill in the air growing sharper with the time going on.

You look back at Katsuki, his gaze steady on you, and he knows you have to say something more. 

You glance up at Katsuki, your thoughts swirling with everything you want to say but can’t quite find the words for. 

"Can we walk?" you ask softly. "It helps me think. There's... stuff I want to say."

Katsuki’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but he quickly nods. Without hesitation, he stands up and holds his hands out to you. For a brief second, you think about getting up on your own, but before you can act, he effortlessly lifts you to your feet. 

It’s so easy for him, like you weigh nothing at all.

The sensation floods you with memories

Training sessions where he’d lift you without breaking a sweat, missions where he’d toss you into the air with perfect precision, the times he carried you on his shoulder and ran headlong into the ocean just for fun.

You even remember that chaotic night when Denki got everyone in trouble with the cops, and Katsuki hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to make a quick escape.

Or that one ill-advised mission to break into Aizawa’s apartment for a surprise birthday party, which, unsurprisingly, did not go over well with the man himself.

Each memory rushes through you in a dizzying wave, grounding you in the present as you find yourself standing on your own two feet. Katsuki slings the bag over his shoulder, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity.

"Where to?" he asks, his voice steady, a soft contrast to the tumultuous thoughts in your mind.

You glance around, taking in the park around you—the way the golden light filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the grass. The air is cool, the distant sound of traffic mingling with the rustle of leaves. It’s peaceful in a way that makes the weight in your chest a little lighter.

"Just... around," you say finally, motioning toward the winding path that leads out of the park. 

"Let’s just walk for a bit."

Katsuki gives a slight nod and falls into step beside you, his presence comforting in its familiarity. The two of you walk in silence for a while, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the soft rustling of leaves.

Every so often, you catch him glancing at you, his expression unreadable, yet there’s something in his eyes that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and soothing.

As you walk, the words you’ve been struggling to find begin to form, the weight of what you want to say pressing more heavily with each step. 

The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the path. The silence between you is easy, comfortable, filled with the lingering echoes of shared history. 

Katsuki breaks the quiet first, his voice low but warm. "Did you get home safe last night?"

"Yeah," you reply, glancing over at him. "Thanks for asking. What about you?"

He shrugs, his usual nonchalant air tempered by the softness in his tone. "Crashed at Kirishima's condo."

You nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I miss the big guy. He’s always been the best. So respectful and such a positive influence. I’m glad he's around for the younger generation."

Katsuki’s lips quirk into a faint grin at the mention of his closest friend. "Yeah, he’s a good guy."

As you walk past a cluster of trees, you remain blissfully unaware of the two little spies hiding just out of sight. Eri, twenty but still petite enough to blend in as a teen, peers out from behind a thick trunk.

Her long hair is tucked into a knitted beanie lined with a soft, slinky fabric, effectively disguising her. She watches you both with wide, curious eyes, biting her lip to suppress a noise. From her vantage point, she can barely contain her excitement.

Above, Asuna moves through the branches with practiced ease, her movements silent and precise thanks to her training with Shinsou.

She perches on a sturdy limb, her sharp eyes focused on you and Katsuki as you stroll along the path. The rustling leaves mask her presence as she keeps a close watch. Her heart pounds with anticipation, the thrill of sneaking around amplified by the mission at hand.

She flicks away a message from Shinsou asking why she dropped her location without context. His apartment is on the other side of the city, but her focus is here, on you.

"Do you hear anything? " Eri whispers, her gaze darting between the couple below and the large bunny-eared woman who’s scanning the park with a determined expression.

"Not yet ," Asuna responds, her voice barely a breath as she inches closer, her eyes narrowing in concentration. " I’m getting closer. "

Below, Rumi strides through the park, her sharp gaze sweeping across the playground. She peers into the playhouses, her presence immediately drawing the attention of a group of children. They swarm her, giggling and shouting excitedly as they try to climb her, their small hands grasping at her arms and legs.

"Can I have your autograph!?" one child squeals.

"Can you jump really high?" another asks, eyes wide with admiration.

Rumi chuckles, her usual fierce demeanor softened by the enthusiasm of the kids. She ruffles a few heads and signs autographs with a smirk, though her eyes never stop scanning the area, looking for any sign of the two mischief-makers she knows are hiding somewhere.

As you and Katsuki continue your walk, the sounds of laughter and playful screams fill the air, blending with the rustling leaves and distant hum of the city. The warmth of the sun contrasts with the cool breeze, creating a perfect harmony that seems to settle over the park. 

Despite the serene surroundings, there’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a silent countdown ticking toward an inevitable reunion that neither you nor Katsuki are quite prepared for.

Katsuki's voice cuts through the tranquil park air, his words laced with curiosity. "Asuna's an interesting kid," he comments, his tone thoughtful.

You glance at him, the hint of a smile playing on your lips. "What makes you say that?"

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, his gaze fixed ahead.

"Had a conversation with her. She’s got a sharp mind. Quick wit. Reminds me of someone."

Your brows furrow, piecing together the timeline. You think back to yesterday. She mentioned running into some of your friends at the convenience store.

Katsuki continues, his face softening. "Yeah, nosey as all shit. She’s got this energy about her. Like she’s always thinking, always a step ahead."

Your heart warms at the mention of Asuna, a silent guilt swelling within you. You wonder how she’s faring with Rumi right now, considering texting the rabbit hero to check in. But before you can pull out your phone, Katsuki’s next question freezes you mid-step.

"So... how’d firefly get her eyes that color?"

The question is simple, but it hits you like a punch to the gut from All Might. Your foot catches on an uneven part of the path, and for a split second, gravity takes over. 

Before you can hit the ground, Katsuki’s hands are on you, steady and sure, pulling you upright with ease.

" Watch where you're going ," he chides, his voice gruff but concerned. "City hasn't been listening to me about evening out this damn park."

You huff, brushing off the moment as best you can. "Thanks for the save."

"Don’t thank me," he mutters, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Above you, hidden among the branches, Asuna watches the exchange with bated breath. She almost called out, her heart leaping into her throat, but the scarf over her mouth muffles any sound. Eri nudges her from the earbuds, silently urging her to stay quiet, their mission far from over.

You clear your throat, steadying yourself. "Her eyes are from her father. It’s hereditary."

Katsuki, in the midst of adjusting his boots, nearly trips at your words. His eyes widen as he stumbles, and you’re quick to grab his arm, pulling him back before he can fall.

"Careful," you say, the irony of the situation not lost on you. "You good?"

His expression shifts, concern etched into his features. "I wanted to ask if—" He hesitates, searching for the right words. "If her father... did he hurt you? Is that why you don’t wanna talk about it?"

The air grows heavy between you, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down. You take a breath, the familiar mix of dread and other emotions swirling into a potent cocktail in your chest. "Not exactly," you begin, but he’s already leaning closer, his eyes sharp and intense.

"It’s black and white," he insists. "Either yes or no."

You wave him off, walking a few steps ahead, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm. "It’s not that simple when you’re in love."

His footsteps falter, and when you turn, his face is a storm of emotions, his hands clenched in his pockets. 

"You were in love with him?"

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves and carrying the sounds of the park around you. 

Children’s laughter, the chatter of passing couples, the distant hum of traffic—all of it fades into the background as you lock eyes with Katsuki. His spiky hair is pushed back by his mask, and your braids snap upwards in the gust, creating a tableau of tension and unresolved feelings.

For a moment, the space between you feels like an entire universe, the weight of eight Jupiters pressing down. You see it in his eyes—the belief that he had been your only. The realization hits you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. 

Both of you could stand a million miles apart and it would still be closer. 

Anger flickers at the edges of your thoughts, but it’s quickly doused by you acknowledging the hope that he hasn’t been creeping around town either. This conversation is harder than you ever imagined, the words caught in your throat, the memories threatening to overwhelm.

"You need love to make a baby, not just sex," you snap, the words leaving your mouth before you can filter them.

"I think other people would beg to differ," Katsuki retorts, his voice laced with frustration.

You both stand there, the tension crackling like static in the air. Katsuki sighs, his brows furrowed as he takes a step after you. 

"Wait!" he calls out, his tone softer but no less insistent.

You pause, looking back at him, your expression guarded. His hand reaches out, catching the sleeve of your jacket, tugging lightly to keep you in place. His crimson eyes meet yours, filled with something you can’t quite name—earnestness, perhaps. 

"I honestly just want to know," he admits, his voice low, almost pleading.

"Why?" you ask, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Katsuki’s throat tightens, that familiar, uncomfortable feeling rising within him. It’s the same sensation he gets when he wants to say something important but fears hurting you. 

"I get it," he begins, his gaze falling to the ground. "I understand that you and me—we’re over. I shouldn’t linger on it. But..." He looks up, his expression raw and open in a way you rarely see. 

"You were the only person I’ve ever been with. The only woman I’ve known. So, from the bottom of my heart, I want to know... Is Asuna—"

"Long time no see, huh?"

Both of you whip around at the sound of the familiar sultry voice, eyes widening in surprise. 

There, striding towards you with the casual ease of a cat, is Hitoshi Shinsou.

"Hitoshi!" you call out, your voice filled with genuine surprise and a touch of relief.

Shinsou approaches, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the scene. His cool, collected demeanor is accentuated by his laid-back outfit—a dark purple tee peeking out from under a long, white thermal shirt, an oversized black coat draped over his frame.

His baggy blue jeans hang loose, a chain glinting in the sunlight with every step he takes. His usual five piercings catch the light, the small silver hoops and studs adding a subtle edge to his appearance.

A knitted cat ear beanie, deep violet and snug on his head, is the most telling feature, Eri’s handiwork, a gift she had made with care. His nails are still painted black, remnants of the day Asuna had experimented with new colors on him. Around his neck is a thick flannel scarf, a mismatch against his typically coordinated outfits.

You recognize it instantly—it’s the one you gave him, a rare splash of warmth in his otherwise dark wardrobe.

Katsuki’s gaze shifts from Shinsou’s nonchalant figure to his hands, his grip on your sleeve tightening slightly. 

"What’s behind yer back?" Katsuki asks, his tone guarded, suspicious.

Shinsou’s smirk widens as he pulls his arms from behind him, revealing a bouquet of flowers.

The assortment of blooms is vibrant, the colors rich and varied, a stark contrast to the muted tones of his attire. He holds them out to you with a small flourish, his eyes meeting yours with a twinkle of amusement.

"For you," he says simply, the words carrying an unexpected weight.

You stare at the bouquet, momentarily taken aback. 

The tension that had been suffocating moments before dissipates slightly, replaced by a confusing mix of emotions. Around you, the park continues in its lively rhythm—children’s laughter echoes from the playground, joggers pass by with the rhythmic thud of their feet against the path, and the rustling of leaves provides a soothing backdrop.

You take the bouquet, fingers brushing against Shinsou’s as you do. 

"Thank you," you say softly, the gesture both surprising and comforting.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly, watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and judgement, something he can’t quite place or doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Asuna, still hidden above in the branches, watches the scene unfold with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Eri urges her again, a silent reminder to stay still, though her own curiosity is piqued by the unexpected appearance of Shinsou and the bouquet.

The wind picks up again, carrying the scent of the flowers between you, a brief pause in the whirlwind of emotions swirling around. And in that moment, with Shinsou standing cool and confident, Katsuki bristling with unspoken questions, and you holding the bouquet in your hands, the delicate balance between the past and present teeters, waiting to tip one way or the other.

Katsuki's jaw tightened, his grip on your sleeve loosening only to clench his fists at his sides. His voice, usually controlled despite its rough edges, began to rise.

"So, what? You just happen to be around, playing delivery boy? You always this much of a pain in the ass, or is today special?"

Shinsou’s smirk widened, his expression one of pure amusement. 

"Relax, Bakugou. Not everything's about you," he said smoothly, his eyes flicking lazily over to you and back to Katsuki. 

"But hey, if you want to make it about you, by all means, be my guest."

Katsuki’s face reddened, the vein in his temple visibly pulsing.

"Ya think this shit is funny?" His voice was low, dangerous, every word a growl. "You don’t know when to shut yer fucking mouth, do ya?"

Shinsou shrugged, nonchalant. "Only when it’s worth shutting up for. And right now? Not really seeing the point." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. 

"Still the same, huh? Sixteen-year-old with anger issues cosplaying as a hero."

Katsuki’s teeth ground together audibly, and before you could intervene, his body tensed, his stance shifting forward. 

"You wanna do this right here? Or ya wanna take this somewhere else?" he snapped, eyes blazing with the intensity of an imminent explosion.

"Stop it!" you shouted, stepping between them, but neither seemed to hear you, their gazes locked in a deadly stand-off.

Just as you prepared to use your quirk to separate them, your phone buzzed in your pocket, the vibration jolting you slightly. You stepped back, pulling it out and glancing at the screen—Rumi’s contact flashing in bold letters. With a frustrated sigh, you answered, retreating a few more steps to hear her over the escalating tension.

"Hey," Rumi’s voice came through, sharp but concerned. "Everything okay?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but above you, Asuna leaned in closer, trying to catch every word of the brewing argument below. Eri’s panicked voice buzzed through the comm in Asuna’s ear. 

"Rumi already caught me! I can’t stall anymore! Dad’s calling!" Eri’s whisper was frantic, almost shaking with nerves.

"Asuna?" you muttered under your breath, your heart sinking further. Meanwhile, Rumi’s voice grew more insistent. "What’s going on? Is Asuna with you?"

"No, she’s—" your words cut off as you saw Katsuki finally snap.

"Go fuck yourself, Shinsou."

Katsuki spat, stepping forward, fists ready to fly. Hitsohi, for his part, only raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face never faltering. 

"Touched a nerve, did I?" he drawled, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "You’ve got a lot of sensitivity left for someone who’s supposed to be a pro, Bakugou."

Before the situation could spiral any further, two figures sprinted into view—

Kirishima, his broad frame instantly recognizable, and Mina, her pink hair flying wildly as she ran.

"Whoa, whoa! Cool it, guys!" Kirishima shouted, inserting himself between Katsuki and Shinsou, his hands up in a placating gesture. 

"What’s going on here?"

Mina grabbed Shinsou by the arm, pulling him back with surprising strength. "Seriously, chill out! What are you, five?" she chided, though her voice was more concerned than scolding.

Katsuki did NOT want to fucking see Mina right now.

As the tension began to wane under their intervention, another figure appeared—

Rumi. 

Sprinting toward you all, her expression set in grim determination. Slung over her shoulder, Eri clung tightly, her wide eyes darting between the adults in panic. Rumi skidded to a halt, setting Eri down gently before straightening. 

"Glad everyone’s here," she panted, though her tone was far from relieved.

"Why?" Katsuki asked, his brows knitting together in confusion.

"Asuna’s missing." 

The words hit like a bomb, the weight of them sinking into the air around you all.

You felt your legs weaken as the color drained from your face. Tears welled up in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks before you could even register or stop the motion. Frantically, your fingers fumbled with the phone in your hand, the one linked to Asuna’s tracker. But as you accessed the interface, a cold realization hit you—it wasn’t responding. 

The tracker wasn’t on her. 

It was on you.

"No... no , no , no ," you whispered, panic clawing at your chest.

Katsuki and Shinsou froze, the gravity of Rumi’s words pulling them out of their animosity. Both of their faces paled, their expressions shifting from anger to pure, unadulterated fear.

"Asuna’s missing?" Katsuki’s voice was strained, his eyes wide with horror.

Shinsou’s usually calm demeanor cracked, a flicker of panic crossing his features. 

"What do you mean, missing?" he demanded, stepping forward.

“I mean I haven’t seen the kid in over two hours and she isn’t picking up her damn phone!”

Everyone else seemed to fade into the background as the realization hit home. 

The park, once bustling with life, now felt eerily quiet, the distant sounds of city life drowned out by the pounding of your heart. For a moment, time stood still, the weight of Asuna’s absence pressing down on all of you like a suffocating blanket.

Your chest tightened, each breath shallower than the last as your mind raced, thoughts spiraling into a storm of fear and self-recrimination. 

The hug —The way Asuna had clung to you before you left. 

Her smile —So carefree as she sprinted past the gates and into the building. 

The unfinished conversation about her father lingered in your mind like a haunting echo. 

Was that the last time you would see her?  

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea surging through you.

‘Is this happening because of me? ’

The question tore at your heart. Your failures as a mother loomed large, every small misstep now magnified into catastrophic proportions. Her asthma. She hadn’t had an attack in months, but that didn’t mean she was safe. You knew how suddenly it could strike, how it could rob her of air when she needed it most. 

What if she was alone?

Your fingers moved on autopilot, logging into the location app on your phone and inputting her information with trembling hands. The voices around you blurred into a cacophony of panic—Rumi's sharp questions directed at Eri, whose face turned a deep crimson as she stammered under the pressure.

"I-I don't know where she is! She was here, and then she—"

Aizawa’s voice, usually so composed, crackled through the phone with uncharacteristic urgency. 

"Eri, stay calm. Where was the last place you saw her?"

Shinsou pulled out his phone, flipping through it rapidly. "She dropped her location to me, but..." He cursed under his breath. 

"It’s expired."

Kirishima waved down a local officer, trying to explain the situation with gestures that grew increasingly frantic. Mina, tears brimming in her eyes, kept trying Asuna’s phone, her voice cracking as she spoke into the receiver. 

"Pick up... please, just pick up!"

This was all too much.  

The noise, the panic, the memories. The time a villain had followed Asuna home, how her quirk malfunctioning had inadvertently saved her life.

‘Could that have happened again?’ 

The idea wrapped around your heart like a vice, squeezing until the world around you began to blur.

Would you ever see her safe and sound again? 

Or was this the beginning of a nightmare that would end with another funeral?

Yesterday, you buried the woman that raised you.

Would you have to bury your daughter now too?

"Fuck no."

You couldn’t hear anyone, couldn’t focus on anything except the paralyzing fear in your chest. Your vision tunneled, the edges fading to black, until Katsuki’s voice cut through the haze, rough and commanding.

“Hey! Look at me!” His hands gripped your shoulders firmly but not harshly. “Breathe. In... and out.” His voice softened slightly, the anger in it replaced by something steadier, almost gentle. “You’ve got this. Come on, do the shitty exercises.”

Mechanically, you followed his lead, your breaths syncing with his as he guided you through the familiar routine. Your mind was still a blur, but you clung to the rhythm, your fingers continuing to work on bypassing the security on Asuna’s phone.

“I promise you,” Katsuki said, his voice low, steady.

“We’re going to find her. I swear it.”

You felt his hands—warm but not burning—gently holding your wrists, pulling them up in front of you. “Look at me. We’re gonna do this together, alright?” His voice was calm yet firm, cutting through the fog in your mind, pulling you back just a little.

His red eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you were transfixed. You could see the determination there, the desperation beneath it all. He was trying. He was really trying.

For you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, more controlled. “I know it’s shit right now, but you’ve gotta breathe through it. You’re not alone, got it?” His thumbs rubbed light circles against your palms, grounding you. “You’re pissed, you’re hurt, and that’s fine. You get to feel that way. Just don’t hurt yourself because of this.”

The validation in his words hit you like a wave. Your chest tightened, your breaths still coming too fast, too shallow. The fire inside you flickered more violently, and you pulled your burning hands away from him, almost like they’d scalded you.

“I can’t—” you gasped, your voice cracking.

“I can’t stop it, Katsuki. It’s… I need to find her.”

You stumbled back a few steps, the air rushing into your lungs in desperate, greedy gulps. It felt like you couldn’t get enough, like no matter how hard you tried to breathe, it’d never be enough. The world around you was spinning, and you were crumbling.

Katsuki didn’t say anything at first.

He just watched you for a moment, his jaw tightening as he saw you fall apart in front of him. His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to grab you, to pull you close, but he held back. He knew you didn’t want to be touched right now.

So instead, he lowered himself to better see you, hands sitting on his knees just two steps away.

Fuck anyone who thought he looked silly.

He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, but he gave you space. His breathing remained steady, deep and calm, like he was trying to show you that you were okay.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“You hear me? I’m not leaving you to figure this shit out on your own.”

You didn’t respond, your body still tensed up, shaking. You could feel the cold of the winter air seeping into your skin, but it was like your quirk was fighting back against it, flames sparking and sputtering under the surface. You were torn between the cold and the heat, between your need to feel control and your fear that you’d lose your daughter again.

“I know it feels like everything’s closing in on you,” Katsuki continued, his voice steady and unwavering, “but you’ve gotta fight it. And I know you can.” There was a pause, the wind howling around the two of you as the park buzzed faintly in the distance.

“You’re going to find her. I’m not letting you hurt yourself because of some stupid voice in yer head. Not again.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, with commitment. He wasn’t going to let you spiral, wasn’t going to let you fall into that darkness again. You could hear the unspoken worry in his voice, the fear that you might break yourself trying to fight through this.

You swallowed hard, your dry throat burning with the effort. The cold air felt sharp as it scraped through your lungs, and for a second, it felt like you might shatter. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let it all out, but instead, you just stood up taller, pressing one hand to your chest as you punched commands to the phone.

Katsuki shifted beside you, and you could feel him there, like a steady presence keeping you tethered. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t running from the mess, from the fire.

Your fire.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admitted quietly, his voice soft but firm. “But I’m here. And you’re gonna be okay.”

He didn’t touch you, didn’t force you to move. He just squats there with you, his presence solid and unyielding, waiting for you to breathe, to come back to yourself.

Mechanically, you begin to follow his lead, your breaths syncing with his as he guides you through the familiar routine. Your mind was still a blur, but you clung to the rhythm, your fingers continuing to work on bypassing the security on Asuna’s phone.

"I promise you," Katsuki said, his voice low, steady. 

"We’re going to find her. I swear it."

He takes Hitoshi's flowers from your hands, carefully tucking them into his bookbag before stepping back. Your phone dinged, and your heart lurched as you read the notification: 

Her coordinates.

No sooner than the location hit your phone did Aizawa arrived, running up as Kirishima waved him over. Shinsou was showing pictures of Asuna to the officer, flipping between his wallet and phone, his normally stoic face etched with worry.

"She’s... right here?" you whispered, your voice shaking as you stared at the screen. 

"Her phone is here!"

Everyone looked around, scanning the area with wide, desperate eyes. But there was nothing. 

No sign of Asuna. 

The realization hit you like a physical blow, and the scream that tore from your throat was raw, born of fear and frustration. Stomping forward you looked out into the field of flowers and the ice skating rink before your eyes confirmed it, she isn't here.

You kick a nearby tree, the impact sends a shock through your leg, but it doesn't matter. The pain was a welcome distraction from the chaos in your soul. 

Katsuki makes the others stand back from you, as remnants of your quirk kicked up and your lava began to burn away the base of the tree, socks and boots also melting away with your right foot now exposed and smoking with a foul order entering the air that reflected how nasty you felt inside. 

What you felt fall onto your scalp, however, made you freeze. Your breath hitched as you looked down and let it all into your hand. 

A sugar-coated almond?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your mind raced. 

Asuna’s favorite snack.

Before you could fully process it, a blur of movement in the tree above caught your eye.

Something, or someone, came crashing down, colliding directly with Katsuki.

He stumbled back, hands instinctively going up to catch the figure that had fallen from the branches. Relief and panic warred within you as you watched Katsuki grip her shoulders, holding her steady. Her face was flushed, her breath coming in short gasps, but she was there—

Alive . 

"Asuna!"

Everyone surged forward, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of concern and relief. Asuna hunches in the center, a mix of confusion and exhaustion etched into her face. Leaves and twigs stick out of her braids, tangled with the soft fabric of her scarf. Her wide, shell-shocked eyes darted from one person to the next, unable to process the barrage of questions.

"Asuna, what happened?" Hitoshi's voice was the first to cut through the din, calm but edged with urgency. His hand hovered near her shoulder, hesitant yet ready to steady her if she faltered.

Before she could respond, Katsuki stepped in, wrapping an arm around both you and Asuna, his protective instincts kicking in. 

"Back off!" he barked, voice sharp as he sensed her growing distress. But even as he spoke, the groaning sound of the tree behind you reached a breaking point.

The tree, unable to withstand the force of your kick and the intense heat from your quirk’s sudden activation, began to give way. Smoke curled from the blackened bark, the air heavy with the scent of scorched wood.

"Move!" Katsuki’s arm tightened around you both, and with a swift, practiced motion, he propelled all three of you backwards as the tree collapsed with a deafening crash. Sparks flew as the ground trembled beneath the impact, sending people scrambling back with screams of terror, the scene descending into chaos as onlookers assumed the worst—

A villain attack.

Your breathing hitched, panic threatening to overwhelm you again. The crowd’s shouts blurred into a haze, their thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. 

Just as the panic reached its peak, Asuna wobbled up onto her knees, hands trembling as she raised them. A shimmering barrier of energy flickered to life around the smoldering remains of the tree.

The glowing shield expanded, encasing the flames and heat, creating a makeshift box around the burning debris. Her face contorted in concentration, her body visibly trembling as she compressed the energy, the barrier shrinking tighter and tighter until the tree was reduced to nothing but a smoldering patch of grass, too hot to touch or even approach.

The tension in your chest eased just a fraction as Katsuki helped you both to your feet. His eyes, usually filled with a spark of defiance, were softened now, filled with a mixture of worry and relief as he steadied Asuna. Hitoshi appeared beside you, his brows knitted together as he reached out to offer support, his hand briefly brushing yours in reassurance.

"Asuna, what happened?" you asked, voice shaky but determined. You had to understand  what had led to this moment.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. The crowd pressed closer again, their concerned faces creating a wall of noise and questions that threatened to suffocate her. Her breathing quickened, her hands clenching at her sides as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"Give her some space!" Katsuki's voice boomed, his towering presence helping to create a barrier between Asuna and the pressing throng. His arms spread wide as he urged the others to step back, his own face set in a mask of calm determination despite the chaos around him. 

Asuna tries to exhale, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but the smoke from the burning tree had already infiltrated her lungs. Her breaths become shallow, wheezing gasps, each one a struggle. She presses a hand to her chest, panic evident in her eyes.

"Asuna!" you called, your voice cracking. "Your inhaler—"

Eri, wide-eyed but quick to react, fumbled in her coat pockets before pulling out the small device. She threw it to Katsuki, who caught it in a swift motion and handed it to you. You knelt in front of Asuna, your hands steady despite the turmoil in your heart, pressing the inhaler to her lips.

"Two pumps," you whispered, your voice soothing. "Breathe out."

Asuna obeyed, taking two short bursts before inhaling deeply. She coughed, the harsh sound reverberating through the clearing, her body wracked with the effort. But slowly, her breathing began to even out, the color returning to her cheeks as the medicine worked its way through her system.

Inside, though, Asuna was still spiraling. 

The sheer number of people surrounding her, the guilt of what she had put you through—it all pressed down on her, threatening to consume her. Her hands trembled as she reached out, clutching your arm as if anchoring herself to reality.

"I’m sorry," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know..."

Your heart ached at the sight of her struggling, the weight of her panic and guilt mirrored in her tear-filled eyes. You pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering soothing words as you rubbed circles on her back.

"Why are you sorry?" you murmured, voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. "You’re safe now. That’s all that matters."

Around you, the others stood in a protective semi-circle, their expressions a mix of relief and lingering concern. 

Shinsou’s gaze remained on Asuna, his usual stoicism tempered with a softness that hinted at his own worry. Rumi and Kirishima kept the crowd at bay, his reassuring smile doing its best to calm the onlookers.

Mina, tears still glistening in her eyes, hovered nearby, her phone in hand, ready to call for help if needed. Asuna’s breathing continued to slow, her grip on you loosening as the tension in her body began to ease. She was still shaken, the adrenaline crash leaving her drained, but the worst was over.

For now.

The air around you felt suffocating, thick with the weight of the moment as everything seemed to slow to a crawl. 

Asuna’s trembling hand reached out, seeking comfort, and Hitoshi was quick to respond, his own hand steady as he took hers. His voice, quiet and steady, began to hum—a familiar melody meant to soothe her in the way he had done so many times before. The hum reverberated through her, and she tried, desperately, to breathe deeply like the doctors had taught her all those years ago.

But despite her best efforts, the panic didn't subside.

Her chest constricted with each breath, a reminder of how her quirk had taken control of the situation, spiraling out of her grasp. And under the surface, guilt gnawed at her. 'I  should have just trusted you ,' she thought. Should’ve waited to have this conversation with you. But it was too late now, and the reality of the moment crashed into her. 

She had put you through this— again .

Tears fell silently from her eyes as she thought of how badly she had fucked up, the emotional dam that had been holding back the tears finally breaking under the weight of everything. You were there, kneeling in front of her, picking out twigs and leaves from her hair, your fingers trembling as they gently brushed through the strands. 

You don't notice the tears falling from your own eyes, the guilt of what had just happened rushing in like a tide. Your heart twist's with the thought that your quirk had been the catalyst for all this, had triggered Asuna’s asthma and sent her into a panic. And you couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d just controlled it better, if you had been more careful with your emotions, none of this would have happened.

'If you had done things ‘right’ this wouldn’t have happened.'

Asuna’s tears flowed harder as she caught sight of you crying. 

Her mother, the woman who had always been the strong one, the one who kept everything together—

Was breaking down in front of her. 

It only made her cry harder. Her chest tightened, her panic deepening. The guilt, the feeling of failure, overwhelmed her, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

Katsuki, who had been squatting a little to the side, looking like he was ready to pop off at any moment, felt the shift in the air. He turned to Asuna, who was gripping your arm tightly, and her desperate, tear-filled gaze caught his. 

It was a look he couldn’t ignore. 

One that made his hatred and jealousy falter.

Katsuki knelt down beside you both, and without a word, he reached for Asuna’s hand. His warmth wrapped around both you and her, pulling you closer together. He wouldn’t leave—not now, not when she needed him, not when you both needed him. He wasn't about to abandon anyone, especially not Asuna.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured under his breath, his words directed at both of you. “Your mama’s gotcha.”

Asuna’s breath hitched at his words. It was the warmth of his touch , his presence, that helped her hold it together, even as the world seemed to be falling apart around her. 

She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want anyone to leave. Her hands squeezed his, grounding her in the moment. The last thing she needed was to be left alone.

Asuna felt herself losing control again, tears blurring her vision as she caught sight of you crying. It made her heart break all over again. You were always so strong for her, always taking the weight of the world onto your shoulders. 

Now, to see you so vulnerable—so fragile—was a reminder of just how much pressure she had been putting on you.

And then it all came crashing down

The complete realization that she had just put you through all of this—put everyone through this.

Her chest tightened again, and she could barely breathe. Her impulse, usually something she could control, had spiraled out of control, and in that moment, she felt more alone than ever. 

Just then, you felt a gentle squeeze on your wrist, and you turned to find Hitoshi looking at you, his eyes wet with concern. He had seen this before, the aftermath of asthma-related incidents, the fear in Asuna’s eyes, the way it caused her body to tremble.

But this time felt different. The fear was heavier. He hummed again, his voice quieter this time, almost a whisper meant for Asuna’s broken heart.

And then Katsuki’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His face hardened, and he stood, shaking his head as he pulled it out. “I'm calling for help,” he said, his voice strained but still determined. But as he moved to go, Asuna’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist with more strength than she thought she had left. Katsuki hesitated, and then, without a word, he dropped to his knees again, staying by her side. 

She needed him.

And Katsuki knew there was no place he’d rather be.

The chaos of the moment didn’t relent. 

Rumi’s voice could be heard, arguing with an officer in the background. Aizawa, his usually calm demeanor turning more intense, joined in, his voice sharp as he tried to de-escalate the situation. The officer was insistent, asking if you had a heat-related quirk.

When you nodded, your heart skipped a beat. Before you could react, the officer’s voice shot out, demanding you turn around and place your hands behind your back. Your eyes widened, and the pit in your stomach dropped. 

You didn’t understand.

This was a mistake, wasn’t it? 

A quirk accident—nothing more, nothing less. You hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

But the officer’s words cut through you. 

“Heroes are not above the law,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve endangered innocent civilians. Damaged city property. Caused a public stir. And as for that little stunt with the tree? It’s technically theft— not including using a quirk without a license to do so.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stepped in front of Asuna, your body instinctively moving to protect her. Your quirk flared, heat radiating off you, but it wasn’t enough to stop the officer’s advance. 

Your heart pounded as you glared at him, standing firm between him and your daughter.

Rumi stepped forward, her usual playful attitude long gone, replaced by a fire in her eyes. “You’re gonna arrest her for this? Go catch real criminals, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her voice cold with anger, but her stance firm, ready to defend you. Aizawa sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “This isn’t the time,” he muttered.

But you were frozen. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—this wasn’t just about a quirk accident anymore.

This was about the fact that you were a foreigner.

A top hero in Japan, yes, but still an outsider in many’s eyes.

You had heard the whispers recently, stories of non-Japanese heroes being falsely arrested on fabricated charges.  It had been a constant topic on the news before your nation wide blackout shifted the focus elsewhere. 

You understood, to an extent, how foreigners could stand out in a different country. But you were still a dual citizen. You had a right to be here, and there was a proper, legal way to handle situations like this. The thought that something as simple as your nationality could be twisted into a weapon was a bitter pill to swallow.

And the worst part? 

Asuna was caught right in the middle of it.

Your daughter. 

You heard Asuna’s soft gasp behind you, and when you turned, her eyes were wide, clear—but terrified . She wasn’t breathing. Not from the asthma attack this time. But from the crushing weight of fear that had settled into her chest.

Her voice, barely a whisper, shattered the air. “ Mom… don’t… please… ”

Her words, heavy with panic and guilt, hit you harder than any blow ever could. Her quirk had solved this, but she didn’t deserve to be the one paying for it.  Anger wells up inside as you turn back to face the officer. You could feel your quirk itching at the edge of your control, threatening to ignite again, but you pushed it down.

For Asuna.

For your family.

You couldn’t afford to lose yourself now. But as the officer’s hand reached out, you knew one thing with absolute certainty- 

No matter what happens, you won’t let anything happen to Asuna.

The tension in the air was palpable, as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to shift. Aizawa stepped forward, his usually calm and collected demeanor now tinged with the unmistakable edge of danger. 

He positioned himself firmly between you and the officer, his body language saying everything that words couldn’t quite convey. He wasn’t going to let this go any further.

Not while you were in the line of fire, not while Asuna was still struggling to breathe, and not while his daughter and students were gathered around, watching in various states of tension and concern.

His voice, when it came, was low and dangerous, but underneath it, there was the unmistakable undertone of diplomacy.

“Back off, officer,” he said. “This isn’t your protocol and you know it.”

The words were smooth, yet there was an edge. A promise of consequences should this situation escalate any further.

Just then, you felt a warm, heavy presence behind you, and without having to turn around, you knew Katsuki was there. His energy, always a little soothing, became an anchor for you in that chaotic moment.

You look back to Asuna and Hitoshi, and you could hear him mumbling under his breath, words flowing together too quickly to catch. His quirk, always a little more covert and subtle, worked its magic on the officer in an instant.

The officer’s gaze went blank, his stance shifting from firm to oddly compliant, as if his mind had been wiped clean. 

He blinked rapidly, as though trying to shake off a sudden fog. The change was subtle, but it didn’t take long for Hitoshi’s effect to take hold fully. The officer, now under his control, was completely unaware of what was happening around him.

Rumi, ever quick on her feet, didn’t hesitate for a second. 

She moved swiftly to the officer’s body camera, and with a practiced flick, she ripped it off his uniform. In a blink, the camera was open, and she was extracting the chip with a smooth motion, sliding it into her pocket before anyone could react. 

Then, she handed it over to Katsuki, who didn’t waste a second. With a barely contained smirk, he took the chip from her, and in a single motion, he detonated it, causing a small but satisfying explosion that sent the device into smithereens.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched the officer’s confusion grow. 

His eyes, now vacant of any understanding, drifted over the scene before him, as though he was seeing everything for the first time, trying to piece it all together. And in that moment, Hitoshi continued to work, murmuring low, steady words into the officer’s mind, keeping him in a state of compliance.

It wasn’t long before the officer’s eyes flickered with a mild disorientation, as if he was waking up from a trance. And then, with a quiet groan, he blinked a few more times, trying to orient himself. 

“Where... where am I?” His voice was thick, as though he had just woken from a deep sleep.

Everyone else seemed to simultaneously shift into action, a sort of tactical calm falling over the group as they began to speak with unsettling sweetness. Aizawa’s voice was the first to cut through the silence, his tone almost tender, though there was still an underlying firmness. 

“It’s just that time of year, officer. You know how it is,” he said, offering a calm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Pro Hero Obsidian here accidentally sneezed so hard that her quirk activated, and well... let’s just say the tree didn’t stand a chance.”

The officer’s confused gaze traveled to you, as though trying to decipher the explanation.

His brow furrowed, but the words seemed to sink in, albeit slowly. He looked around at the remnants of the tree, the scorched earth, and the oddness of it all, still trying to piece together what had just occurred. His hand wandered to his vest, patting himself down as if looking for answers.

But they were gone. His body camera, his grasp on the situation—everything had slipped from his mind in the haze of confusion Hitoshi had woven around him. 

You took a deep breath, careful not to let your quirk flare up again as you approached him, offering the most sincere smile you could manage under the circumstances.

“I really do appreciate your quick response, officer. Honestly, it’s amazing how fast you were able to rip the body cam off when it caught fire.” You let out a short, apologetic chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

“Quirk’s are a bit unpredictable this time of the year, you know?”

The officer looked at you, his expression shifting from confusion to something resembling disgust. He nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable, though he was no longer quite as combative as he had been moments ago. 

“Glad to help ,” he muttered, still patting himself down, though he couldn’t seem to find a clear explanation for what had just occurred.

“Well, I’m sorry again about the allergies,” you continued, trying to keep the situation light. 

The officer gave a curt nod, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and then he asked, almost absently, 

“Can I see your license for the incident report?”

Katsuki, who had been watching everything unfold with his usual intensity, stepped forward and reached into his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he pulled out his business card, slapping it into the palm of the officer. 

“Here. Should clear everything up.” His voice was cool, nonchalant, as if this was just another day for him. 

“Good rest of your day, officer.”

The officer took the card, his hand shaking slightly, though he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gave a nod and shuffled off, still visibly bewildered, as though everything he had just experienced didn’t make sense, and he wasn’t sure how to process it.

As soon as he was out of sight, you let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the tension in your body finally begin to ease. But just as you were about to relax, Aizawa and Mina closed in on you, both of them wrapping you in a hug.

The warmth of their embrace grounded you, and for a moment, everything felt safe again. You rested your head against Aizawa’s shoulder, letting the stress of the situation melt away, at least for now.

Katsuki, still standing nearby, caught Kirishima’s eye, who was now nudging him lightly. “What just happened?” Kirishima asked, his voice laced with curiosity and concern. He was mostly oblivious to understanding what had just gone down. Katsuki’s gaze flickered toward the retreating officer and then back to his friend. “You don’t wanna know,” he said with a sharp look.

“But it’s all good now.”

Meanwhile, Eri had knelt down next to Asuna, who was still visibly shaken, but she had stopped crying. Hitoshi’s humming continued, soft and soothing, the rhythm lulling Asuna into a more stable state of mind. Eri reached out, her hand gently resting on Asuna’s shoulder, offering her support as her wide, empathetic eyes softened.

And in the background, Rumi, having finished trailing the officer at a distance, was about to take off after him when Aizawa pulled her back with a tug of his scarf, bringing her back into the fold of the hug with a force that was almost comforting. Rumi didn’t resist, leaning into the embrace and sharing a brief, unspoken moment of relief with the group.

The scene quieted, and everything seemed to settle into place. 

Even though the tension had been so thick just moments ago, there was a peace that now lingered. No one had been badly hurt, and the crisis had been averted, even if the situation had gotten far too close to the edge for comfort.

You couldn’t help but feel immense gratitude for the team of people who had circled around you, protecting you and Asuna, keeping you both safe.

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

Until the distant sound of sirens grew louder, and you felt a sudden jolt of panic hit your chest.

The calm of the moment was quickly overtaken by the flashing lights of an approaching ambulance. 

You barely had time to react before you heard your name being called—sharp, urgent, and cutting through the chaos. You turned to see Elle, your manager, rushing towards you with her usual grace replaced by frantic energy.

She moved with a wild sort of urgency, her high heels tapping sharply against the pavement as she approached. Her face was a mix of concern and confusion, and you couldn’t help but notice how completely disheveled she looked.

Her perfectly put-together business attire, which always screamed efficiency, was now a far cry from its usual polished perfection. Her white blouse was stained with something—coffee or maybe even chocolate, you couldn’t tell—and her black suit was wrinkled and creased from the chaos that had unfolded. 

The flats she wore, which were stylish yet surprisingly comfortable, looked more like slippers than anything suited for a high-stress moment like this. But her hair, once so neatly styled, was now messy, strands of it falling out of its usual neat bun, giving her a wild appearance.

She dropped her briefcase with a loud thud at her feet, and without skipping a beat, she reached for your hands, her fingers shaking slightly. “Is Asuna okay?” Elle’s voice was sharp, but there was a hint of something more at hand. She had clearly been thrown off balance by whatever news had reached her inbox, and now she was here, trying to make sense of the madness that surrounded you both. 

"She, wait, what are you doing here?!"

“I traced your location after something popped up in my inbox,” she explained, her words spilling out in a rush as she tried to catch her breath.

“Also... about Asuna. And the judge ruling over Rita’s estate. But I need to know what’s happening.”

You barely had time to process the words when you felt your pulse quicken. 

You squeezed her hands and gave her a brief, reassuring nod, though the anxiety was building in your chest. “We’ll talk about it in the waiting room,” you said quickly, though your eyes were still darting over to Asuna, who was now being carefully helped onto the gurney by Hitoshi and Katsuki.

Eri stood next to them, holding Asuna’s hand, her face filled with a mixture of worry and determination as she tried to keep her composure for the younger girl.

You were moving before you realized it, rushing toward Asuna and the EMTs, your heart pounding as you made your way through the crowd. But before you could reach them, one of the paramedics stopped you. His hand shot out, trying to block your path.

“You can’t get in the ambulance,” he said sternly, his tone firm but not unkind.

Your chest tightened, and before you even had time to think, the words rushed out of your mouth. 

“I am her mother!” you snapped, the instinct to protect Asuna overwhelming your thoughts. The paramedic froze for a moment, his eyes flickering with a brief moment of hesitation before he took a step back.

Without saying another word, he allowed you to slip past him, Elle following closely behind, her heels clicking against the pavement with an urgency that matched your own.

You jumped into the back of the ambulance, quickly moving to stand next to Asuna on the gurney, your hand gently brushing against hers as you leaned in. Elle settled beside you, her presence comforting you as the doors slammed shut.

The EMTs were already beginning to prepare for transport, and you could hear them talking quietly to each other, their voices a mix of professional calm and worry as you all drove off.

At the park, the scene was slowly beginning to calm down. 

“I’m clocking out for the rest of the day!” Mina declared, her voice cutting through the lingering bustle. The park was mostly empty now, the earlier crowd having dispersed after the commotion. The once vibrant green space now felt eerily quiet, the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic the only sounds filling the void.

Katsuki shot her a hard side-eye but remained silent.

His gaze shifted back to the patch of melted grass, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he scooped up your forgotten backpack, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease.

“I got it,” he muttered to Kirishima, his voice low but resolute. “Cover for me.” The words came without hesitation, his focus already shifting toward the next task. Mina, who had been mid-step, paused, her brow furrowing as she processed his abruptness. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Hitoshi’s voice broke through, tinged with mild irritation.

“I drove here,” Hitoshi offered, his eyes on Katsuki. “You can ride with me if you want. But I’m leaving now.” His tone was calm, but the underlying urgency was clear.

He wasn’t waiting.

Katsuki was about to respond when Aizawa’s voice cut through the stillness, calm yet authoritative.

“Everyone needs to get back to work,” he said, his eyes softening slightly as they landed on Mina. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to clock back in.” His tone was gentle, offering a quiet reassurance amid the residual chaos.

Rumi, ever the dependable presence, stepped forward with a warm smile. “I’ll finish the rest of her shift with you, Pinky,” she said with confidence, her upbeat nature shining through despite the tension. Mina nodded, her expression softening as she quickly made the necessary call to your agency, ensuring everything was handled.

Aizawa’s calm voice continued, directing the group with steady authority. “Go home and get some rest before tonight’s shift.” Hitoshi nodded silently, his gaze lingering on Katsuki for a moment before he turned and walked away, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. Aizawa shifted his attention to Kirishima. “Finish patrol, yeah?”

“You got it, Teach!” Kirishima responded with his usual enthusiasm, giving a hearty thumbs up. With that, the group began to settle into their new routines. The park, once filled with chaos, was now quiet, the paramedics long gone, leaving behind only the weight of what had transpired.

“Bakugou, you can ride with me,” Aizawa said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Katsuki glanced at him, the tension still palpable in his stance. “When did you become my old hag?” he muttered, his annoyance evident. But he didn’t protest. He knew better. Aizawa, unfazed by the comment, remained neutral. “Come on,” he said, already walking away.

Katsuki sighed, his irritation clear, but he followed. He was sick of the park anyway. As they approached a minivan parked nearby, Katsuki’s face twisted in confusion, then disbelief. The vehicle, adorned with a rearview mirror stick of a black and white cat and about twenty smaller cat stickers on the other side, was a far cry from what he expected.

“This is your ride?” Katsuki asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Aizawa, ever unbothered, shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He slid the door open, and with a resigned huff, Katsuki climbed in after him, the door shutting behind them, leaving the park and its now quiet solitude behind.

They drove in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound accompanying them as the city center gradually faded into the distance. Katsuki stared out the window, watching the buildings blur together, the vibrant heart of the city giving way to quieter, more subdued streets. The sky above mirrored his mood, a blanket of grey stretching endlessly, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Still no snow.

Aizawa, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, finally broke the silence. His voice was calm, steady, yet it carried a weight that Katsuki couldn't ignore.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Katsuki’s gaze shifted from the window to the dimming cityscape, the question hanging in the air between them. For a while, he didn’t respond, his eyes following the endless stretch of the grey sky before turning back to his old teacher.

“No.”

Comments are love! Questions are welcomed!

Easter eggs: I use the 3 hearts in the text divider at the beginning to symbolize You, Asuna, and Katsuki. The hearts are separate right now because you all are not "together" yet.

The various heartbeats shown are also relating to y'all and how you feel during the situation.

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r,@v3n7s, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg,

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the list!

(Psssts, requests are also open!!~)

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and other mha) here in the master list.

ao3 link too

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[anotheroceanid]

TWO OF THE (MANY) SCENES DELETED FROM CHAPTER 7 OF WTHB

(If something looks weird, it's because I converted markdown to html and THEN to RTF)

SCENE 1

APOLLO

WINTER SOLSTICE OF 2007

OLYMPUS

First thing Hermes says is: ‘No!’

Very loud. Very rude. The poor nymph who was serving the drinks runs the other way.

Apollo had his head turned so he could have a clear sight of the object of his desires, so Hermes grabbed his face with one hand and forced Apollo to look at him. ‘No.’ It was more of a whisper now, almost a prayer.

Twinged by jealousy and disappointment, Apollo addressed the elephant in the room. ‘Are you…’

‘No!’ Why Hermes sounded like a broken record, Apollo had no idea, but the knowledge that his brother possessed no passion for their lovely cousin made Apollo’s—very—stressful day a thousand times better. He beamed and looked at her again, just to be once again interrupted by Hermes, who invaded his line of sight. Before Apollo could protest, his brother was already speaking. ‘I care for her as you do for Artemis.’

Apollo furrowed his brows.

That was… odd.

Hermes wasn’t one to deny himself any sort of beauty, and he got a good eye for precious and forbidden things he could steal. What was more beautiful, precious and forbidden than the daughter their uncle sired in secrecy with a mortal with whom any other god would avoid meddling? 

Apollo stretched his body so he could see beyond his brother. Across the room, stood Persephone—what a poetic name for a girl who bears the choice to save or destroy them all. She was the most glorious vision Apollo had ever had in front of his godly eyes. Confusing as it was, it had little to do with her striking looks—not that Apollo denied in any way the fine traces that designed his cousin’s face, for she had been gracefully constructed by her parents; Uncle Poseidon and her mortal mother made an exceptional work. 

However, there was something even more charming underneath the gold silky skin that covered her nearly unhuman skin, something dangerous behind the porcelain teeth, something delicate than the shade of her indescribably sea-ish eyes. The beauty that puzzled Apollo was something warm and bright, very much like himself. Something kept as a secret, a poetry he hadn't yet read, a melody muffled by louder noises that refused to go quiet so he could delight in it peacefully. 

As the God of Knowledge, the feeling of being in the dark was _unbearable_—for he was also the god of the sun, it was twice as painful.

He had merely met the sea’s Persephone, yet he felt completely drowned by the mystery of her deepnesses. What a wonderful day his sister had asked for his help. Like everyone else, he had been curious about the Forbidden Child, but nothing prepared Apollo for the greenish blue lakes of salt water that would welcome him that day. Then his sister was taken, and Persephone Jackson chose to go on that quest.

He knew she sought for her own friend. But she was there. Now, Artemis was returned to him and all thanks to the non-rule-abiding daughter of the sea, who may be the cause of his death in a few months. By trying to help her quest, Apollo only got more interested.

With Artemis returned, he found himself with nothing else to think about but Percy Jackson. Well, technically the war was happening, but as she was the most important piece of the chessboard, by thinking of her, he thought of the war.

One thing in particular twitched inside of Apollo: did Persephone Jackson know what she was owned?

She just saved his sister. She could ask him anything in exchange. However, nothing so far. What sort of mortal did not demand payment from a god? Apollo would grant her any gift; be it the art of prophecy or an EGOT. Anything.

There she was, laughing at something her father just told her. Apollo sighed dreamily, imagining himself as the reason for her smile.

Once again, Hermes grunted. ‘_No!_’

‘She is bewildering.’ Apollo blinked slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly.

‘She is.’ Hermes, though mourningful, agreed. ‘But she already has too much on her shoulders.’

Playfully, Apollo opened a smile. ‘I can be helpful.’ He sang.

‘She doesn’t need this sort of help.’ Hermes made a face, then softened it when he turned to look at her. ‘Percy wants a quiet life. She never wanted any of it, and yet, because of us, she has so little to live of her own life. It’s not fair.’

Apollo pressed his lips together, the lines of the prophecy dancing on his mind. There were so many ways that could play out, yet he did admit that most of them ended up badly for her.

Apollo studied the expression of his younger brother’s face—so sad it broke Apollo’s hypothetical heart. Sorrow did not go well with Hermes, though lately it was all that existed there. The betrayal of Luke Castellan was a low blow on him, and though the boy still lived, it didn’t change that he was forever lost. Nothing cut deeper than the loss of a child.

Softly, Apollo places his hand on the arm of Hermes, caressing it lightly. There wasn’t much to be said, and there was very little comfort to be offered in these dark times. Only a miracle could save his son, and even the gods were sceptical about miracles.

Then, like one his father’s thunder, it hit him. ‘You think she can do it!’

Hermes' eyes flared for a second. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He shrugged. ‘I know that she can, but I also know how it would be damaging for her to keep trying until she succeeded. I will not insist.’

‘But you asked.’ Apollo didn’t need an answer, and Hermes did not try to give him one. ‘I see it.’

‘See what?’

‘Your affections.’ Apollo closed his eyes, letting the knowledge sink in. ‘You do care for her as I do for Artemis. I can see how pure it is, and the last thing I’d wish is to cause you pain, brother. I shall not pursue her, not without your blessing.’ That was a lament. Just because he intended to keep his word, didn’t mean he liked to say them.

Something roared inside of him. For a second, he looked again at Percy Jackson. A last glimpse of what he would never have—she would be to him like one of those unsolved questions in history that the mortals never stopped to look for answers, even if it was pointless to make such an effort; there was poetry in it. The eternal longing for answers. Had she been born in a different era, she too would be the object of wonder for those who came after her, the muse of artists and the hero of kids, and maybe his own name would collapse with hers, and they’d be tied together, one way or another.

There is something suffocating about her, and gods shouldn’t feel breathless.

His second lasted a little longer. When he makes a move to look away. It’s when his eyes meet with hers. Both turn away immediately. Warmth goes right into Apollo’s cheeks. 

He’s flushed and his eyes flared gold for a second—he hoped no one had seen that. Apollo decided the best thing to do was to stare to the ground until he was swallowed by it.

‘Don’t make promises you cannot keep.’ He heard Hermes exhaling.

‘I can keep promises!’ Apollo retorted.

‘Let me rephrase it then, don’t make promises that’ll hurt you.’ Hermes murmured. ‘If you must, you have my blessing.’

Apollo widened his eyes and stared at his brother in disbelief. ‘Wait, really?’

Closing his eyes, Hermes continued. ‘I don’t know what might happen to us in the future. I mean, you don’t know, so you can imagine how lost I am. I don’t want to make your last moments miserable.’

‘Hm, thanks?’

‘I’ve noticed you have been at home recently.’

‘I live there, in case you don’t remember.’

Hermes took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been there. Daydreaming, singing to the walls, painting…’

‘I do that quite often.’

‘You do.’ Hermes agreed. ‘But there’s always a part of you with someone. Not in the past days. You’ve gathered your essence at home. And I know you.’

‘You’ve been stalking me!?’ Apollo raised a brow, thinking about the exceedingly long time he spent looking for a beach with the exact same shade of green of Percy Jackson’s eyes.

‘No. But our moms talk.’

‘Oh, of course.’

‘What I’m saying is: if that will bring you happiness, you shall have it.’ Hermes declared. ‘Under the condition that you must treat her with the utmost kindness, either Percy comes to want you or not. Her body, her soul, her mind and her heart, they’re far too frail to be handled bluntly, and I would not stand one more scratch on her.’

‘I see…’

‘You can promise me this?’

Apollo smiled thankfully to his brother. ‘Of course I can.’

SCENE 2

AUGUST 18TH, 2010

CAMP HALF-BLOOD

If there was anything more endearing than his girlfriend surrounded by little kids, Apollo was unaware of it. Made his stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart pump on his chest like a hammer—he did not possess a stomach nor a heart, but the metaphor stood.

What a lovely day it was. Couldn’t be any different. He personally made sure Percy had a perfectly sunny day for her birthday, with a pretty sunrise and an even prettier sunset, for Apollo knew she loved those. Beside his own interference, everything settled perfectly in place, creating a picturesque image that contrasted with the dreadful events of the past years. Apollo hoped she could make sweeter memories regarding her birthday, other than the bloodshed she witnessed during the war.

He longed for better memories. For her and for himself, too. Hopefully, together. Apollo can't help the warm flush on his cheeks, nor the smirk that stretches across his face. The baby in his arms—well, she is technically a toddler, but to him his kids were babies forever—laughs and touches his cheeks, accusing her daddy of looking silly. Thankfully, no one else notices. Kayla, Austin and Will, the eldest of his demigod kids, are laughing about something. In fact, it looks like Kayla and Austin are laughing about something that shifts Will’s face from rosy to scarlet. Apollo can imagine what it is. His son is not exactly subtle.  

Apollo let himself be blinded for a second by the smiles on their faces. That was a good memory. It was, perhaps, maybe endearing enough to compete with Percy playing with little kids. As petty as it sounded, Apollo took pride in the fact that his kids did feel comfortable enough around him—most of his peers couldn’t say the same. He twirled the younger ones in the air, created sparkles around them just to see the glitter in their eyes, joked with the older ones and sang with them a song every now and then. He tried not to think about how his cabin numbers shrunk during the war.

Apollo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew better than anyone else the consequences of dwelling on the past. Instead, he reminded himself the kids were in Elysium and nothing could hurt them anymore. They would want Apollo to take care of their siblings, and that was under his power. Now, not from the shadows and under his father’s rules. Thanks to Percy.

From now on, good memories only, he thought, smelling the sweet scents of flowers and sunshine from his children.

He wished Percy could join him. Apollo knew for a fact she was particularly close to Will, but as far as everyone knew, Percy wasn't really close to Apollo. To Hermes? Yes, a lot of talk about that. To Artemis? Of course, it was secret to no one that Percy was the very kind of person her sister enjoyed having around. When it came to Percy and Apollo, it was always ironically in the dark. That didn't bother him… Not as much as it would've, back in the ancient times. He could keep his cool, and if there was one thing he learned about romance, is that what nobody knows, nobody ruins—which was actually a joke about Odysseus being seriously unlucky, but the meaning changed overtime.

His _Ocean Belle_… So close and so far. For now, if having Percy in secrecy was synonymous to having Percy, then let it be it. He could watch her during the day and be with her during the night, where her smiles and laughter and the glitter in her eyes would belong entirely to him. When she would tell him and no one else about her day and confine to him her secrets, making of the curve of his neck a nest where she could lay her head and rest, warmed by the heat of his body as they talked through the night. Their secrecy was something he appreciated, however, to be in her presence and not being near her was torture; all that Apollo wished was to have her and his kids all together in one place, and to have his fingers intertwined with hers in public.

Well, one thing at a time. He wouldn't want Uncle Poseidon—or worse, cousin Triton—getting in their way, much less Apollo's own father. So close to the end of the war, all eyes were set on her and Apollo wasn't deaf to the whispers about his beloved. If what they had was known, all the vultures would come to spoil their happiness. They'd see it as an invitation, a challenge to overturn, a nuisance—not to say obstacle—that could be solved through trickery.    

It happened before. It happened all the time. Happened with his stepmother, when she was a maiden and refused to take a suitor. Apollo's father tricked her in order to have her as his wife. Then the same with Aphrodite, who was forced into marriage to avoid a war amongst gods. Even with the first Persephone, whose fate had been decided spitefully behind her mother's back. Apollo knew his family. He knew no one would dare to cross Poseidon and chase after his youngest, most beloved, and first-ever demigod daughter. Problem was: Poseidon had already been crossed, and by Apollo, the nephew he loved the most and trusted the most. Other suitors wouldn't have to worry as much about his rage, if such rage was already directed into someone else.

Apollo was no fool to think that his uncle would endorse any god’s relationship with Percy. Not so soon after the war, and if Apollo knew a thing or other about his uncle, not ever. Apollo did know Poseidon. They had a relationship as solid as the walls of Troy that together they raised from the rubble of their—unfortunately failed—rebellion. His uncle was not the forgiving type. He would have to be gently introduced to the concept of having a son-in-law before being introduced to the son-in-law.

That's alright, Apollo thought, brushing away the pessimism from his mind, all it takes is a little patience and a few years.

He watched Percy through the corner of his eyes a little longer. She was dutifully followed by Hades’ son, who carried a plate full of cookies in his hands like a lion guarding its prey. Percy said something that got Nico di Angelo seriously troubled while she stormed into laughter. Adorable, Apollo thought, letting the sound of her laughs get into his ears, so he could appreciate the cadence of her voice.

Apollo took another deep breath and rested his chin on the top of his daughter’s head. ‘Dad is silly.’ Said the three-year-old girl, the youngest of his living children. 

Apollo chuckled. ‘Sillier than you think, Amy.’ He said, kissing her cheek.

As the hours flew by and kids got tired, Apollo sneaked the essence of his body, making most of it invisible. He saw as Percy walked away from the crowd, following with Hades' son toward the beach—probably to watch the sunset, and Apollo hoped she’d enjoy the show made just for her. In the meanwhile, he used the opportunity to walk around and make sure everything was safe for the next hours—he didn't want anyone sticking their noses on his business.

Surprisingly, considering the place was crowded with gods and demigods who were fighting each other to death just a year ago, it was all peaceful. Well, except for a reasonably tipsy Persephone in a corner, because she tended to brag in detail about her excessively happy married life, and no one wanted to listen to her talking about Uncle Hades when she was like that. Especially considering it was summer, and she was probably missing him. Thankfully, Hecate was near Persephone, avoiding her from traumatising this generation.

Apollo passed through Rhode and Triton, his sibling-in-law. If he had to pick one to open his heart about his secret relationship with their sister, it would be Rhode. She was the calmer in her family, and Apollo once was the pupil to her late husband, meaning he would spend a lot of time in their household. Few gods had that lovely personality. But not at that moment. The former Sun Bride had a deadly expression on her face, and her brother Triton had a hand on her arm, just in case he needed to restrain her.

He couldn't help but feel sympathy for her obvious irritation. Apollo too hated her brother.

Not Triton. The other one, from her mother's side. Eros. He was a hateful feathery creature that no one deserved to endure—except, perhaps, the other hateful feathery creature that usually followed him around, Zephyrus. Of course, as much as Apollo hated Eros, he doubted anyone despised him more than his older sister, Rhode. In fact, his sister-in-law avoided anyone from her mother's brood, having herself an aversion for the Goddess of Love. Curiously, Aphrodite kept trying to retrieve her daughter's love and forgiveness, even after years and years of estrangement.

The little group, formed by Eros, Aphrodite and poor Rhode and Triton, tried to keep a talk. At least, Aphrodite tried. Every time Eros spoke, Rhode's eyes glazed with fury and Triton had to tighten his hold on her arm.

Well, they won't be interrupting, Apollo cheered.

A few metres away, Poseidon and Zeus… Laughed? Screamed at each other? Apollo wasn't quite sure. It was always a mystery between them, but they were loud. Poor Uncle Hades closed his eyes and inhaled deeply between every other word, moving his head in an attempt to avoid the sounds. Even Apollo thought he might go deaf if he walked too close.

They talked about something they did about the French Revolution. Uncle Hades had a nasty expression, making a remark about how much he hated how people died of stupid causes back then. As if it was the funniest joke they've ever heard, Zeus and Poseidon threw their heads back while Hades rolled his eyes.

Apollo didn't remember the last time he’d seen the Big Three _talking_—without the war threats or the comments about the time living (or not) in Kronos’ stomach. Before they started to talk about the most unsavoury parts of the 18th century and their adventures then, Apollo walked away.

The demigods were dancing and singing to the same ABBA song they've been obsessing with ever since last year. Apollo smiled, thinking of how Percy would hum that song whenever she was distracted. He walked past her bestest friend, Annabeth Chase; smiling like that, leaning on a boy and cracking jokes, she looked like a completely different person from how she behaved when she was working as architect in Olympus—always so uptight and serious. 

Nearing his brother Hermes, Apollo chuckled when he saw his face. Poor Hermes didn't have a thought behind his eyes, he just glanced away while Demeter and Ares kept talking to him furiously, while Dionysus stood right beside them with a serious expression.

‘My Katie is a good girl.’ Demeter boasted. ‘I don't want that Trant boy anywhere near her!’

Hermes sighed. ‘Travis, you mean.’

‘And I don't approve of Clarisse's relationship with your other son, whatever his name is!’ Ares pronounced.

‘Isn’t Clarisse like, nineteen?’ Hermes frowned, sipping his nectar mindlessly.

Ares crossed his arms in front of his arms. ‘So?’

‘Isn't that a little late to worry about who she dates?’

‘Well,’ Ares started, voice a pitch higher, ‘I never had to care about that before that good-for-nothing son of yours stepped in!’

Apollo made his better efforts not to laugh. That was funny when it didn’t include him being beaten out of existence by Uncle Poseidon. Yet, he should feel sympathy for his fellow… His fellow dating-a-Olympian’s-daughter friend? Maybe they should start a club, maybe Uncle Hades would enjoy having someone to talk with beside his brothers, and Apollo wouldn't complain about having a Big Three ally.

‘Ares, I don't think this is the way to approach 21st century parenting, you know?’ Hermes rolled his eyes. ‘The whole “not letting my daughter date"’ went out of fashion after World War II.’

‘I still don't trust that brat of yours, he's up to something!’

Demeter then was quick to add: ‘The other one too!’ She pointed out. ‘He also has a terrible diet. I cannot imagine what his intestines look like with that amount of sugar he eats.’

Like the words had been carried by the wind, Hermes simply nodded and then turned to their younger brother. ‘What about you? Are any of my kids dating your son?’

Dionysus smiled and shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Thankfully not!’ Dionysus raised his Diet Coke to the sky. ‘I believe he's seeing one of my maenads. I just love seeing someone who's not me getting a lecture.’

Hermes sneered, and this time Apollo laughed and made sure Hermes would hear.

‘Shouldn't you be with your kids?’ Mentally, Hermes inquired.

‘I am.’ Apollo answered, picturing in Hermes mind an image of another version of him playing with the kids.

‘If you three would excuse me, I'll go talk to Apollo.’ Naturally as breathing, Hermes dismissed everyone and walked away. ‘Whatever it is, don't do it.’

‘C'mon, where is my free spirited brother who'd help me in the craziest quests?’

‘My limit is whatever the distance between my pretty face and uncle's Trident.’ Hermes grunted. ‘Where is Percy?’

‘Don't worry, she's with Nico di Angelo.’

‘Your son's crush?’

‘Isn't it lovely that her little, uh, shadow is my Will's crush?’

Even if there was a glitter of endearment in his eyes, Hermes pretended to be annoyed. ‘It's almost as if they're hormonal teenagers.’

‘It’s romantic!’ Apollo sighed.

‘If you say so.’ Hermes retorted. ‘What do you want?’

‘Oh, I did not come here with demands.’ Apollo hummed. ‘I just assumed that my little brother would help me give my beautiful maiden a nice birthday night, you know? Just making sure her dad doesn't notice if she goes missing for an hour or two.’ 

‘Are you crazy!?’ Hermes exhaled. ‘Everyone is here, and they'll notice if the hero of Olympus simply vanishes.*’

‘I know you could buy me thirty minutes. Then thirty minutes more. And then a little longer, I promise we'll be back before 10A.M.’

‘You said the same last time.’ Hermes groaned.

‘You know I can't lie. Just one hour.’

‘You can if you believe in your lie. Thirty-five minutes.’

‘Forty-five.’

‘Forty. Last offer.’

‘Deal. You're the best, brother.’

‘That someday will get me fucked up.’

[bluskaiwriting]

fetor & fertile | sergei "kraven" kravinoff

➤ pairing: AFAB reader x Sergei Kravinoff / Kraven

➤ warnings: Smut, mild predator/prey play, having a heat, animal play (a smidge), fuck or die because why tf not

➤ notes: Since y'all loved the last one so much, a little more filth for the people. dialogue in italics means it's in Russian but I'm not gonna Google translate and butcher Russian so just imagine~

➤ more: masterlist | smut reblog blog 

She hadn't realised her heat was so close when she'd made the journey out here.

It shouldn't have been for another few months at least. An early heat only meant one thing, there was a viable mate nearby.

It also meant she was fucked.

She'd barely trekked for another hour or so before she realised she wasn't alone.

Whatever it was had been following her by scent, her stench getting stronger as her body temperature rose.

She was in no state for a fight, if it came down to it.

Gritting her teeth, she knew that she had to make it to The Hunter's lair before sunset if she wanted to survive.

According to her map, it should have been only another few kilometres to the dome she was told to look out for.

Her rucksack was feeling heavier, the exhaustion and lethargy of the heat catching up to her. Her hair started to plaster to her forehead, and clothes stuck to her clammy skin.

As she walked, her mind wandered, and she recalled what her mother taught her about the symptoms of an unignored heat.

Fever, muscle spasms, uncontrolled perspiration, accelerated heart rate, and in some cases, death.

Usually, she'd have access to chemical suppressants or her mating simulator in the city. However, with the death of her uncle and the entire operation going to shit in the mess, things were not going as planned.

So her grand plan to save her family was to throw everyone under the bus, giving up her uncle's associates to a figure known as The Hunter.

He was supposed to be a legend, a boogie man to scare convicts and criminals into behaving. But a revelation came in the form of a file that she received after she called in a favour from law school.

He was very real and very effective.

If he could take care of the problems at hand, she was willing to pay whatever he wanted. But from what she heard, he wasn't interested in money, only justice. She could work with that.

As the dome came into sight, she heaved a sigh of relief, but before she could take another step the hairs on her neck stood on end.

Whatever had been following her, finally caught up.

Turning around slowly, she came face to face with a man with eyes like a lion's.

The Hunter.

He was tall and built like a warrior, with dark, long hair. Broad shoulders and endlessly long arms. His fists were clenched by his sides, bulging veins crawling up his forearm. Her heat-glazed brain seemed to focus on his thighs, thick and strong, his pants leaving nothing to the imagination. His face had to have been sculpted by the gods. Gaze dark, he scanned her head to toe, pupils narrowed.

Silently, she hoped that he liked what he saw.

He upturned his head, taking a deep breath before huffing and looking at her with something curious in his eyes.

"You're real brave, coming out here smelling like that."

His brow quirked, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. She ignored her hormones screaming for her to submit to him.

"I'm looking for The Hunter."

His eyebrows raised, something akin to amusement colouring his features.

"Who's asking?'

She shared her name and mentioned that she got her information from a friend from law school.

His stance seemed to soften, less offensive, more defensive. Which meant he recognised what she was saying. Thank god.

"Why are you here?"

"I've got names for you." His eyes gleamed with determination.

Hook and centre.

He invited her into his home, and offered her a snack and drink, said that she could stay the night, on account of the trek she'd made to get to him.

At this point, her heat was accelerating, her breaths coming out in short pants and her skin was flushed and hot to the touch. If he noticed, he didn't mention it.

He still seemed to be taking deep breaths, especially in her direction, but didn't bring it up again, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not.

She vaguely realised that he was asking her a question, but she barely registered it.

Her head felt like she was underwater. She could hear an odd ringing and spots were dancing before her. The world suddenly seemed much too bright and it spun deliriously. She found herself on the floor before she could catch herself.

When her eyes opened, she found him knelt beside her, eyes wide with desire.

"You're not human, are you?"

She barely managed to shake her head while shivering. She could feel the cramps now, and if she didn't take care of it soon, she would pass the point of no return.

"Fuck."

He inhaled sharply, eyes glowing brighter.

"You smell..."

She knew that suppressants were only going to do so much now, her body sensed a viable mate and it seemed she would have to give in to her baser self.

Though, it didn't hurt that the specimen before her was most certainly satisfactory.

"Please, help me. It hurts." She whined, tearing at her clothes desperately.

She felt so hot, a fire burning her everywhere. When he placed a hand on her arm, she moaned instinctively and felt a small sense of instant relief.

He looked toward her, the vein on his jaw pulsing as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

"Are you sure?"

She grabbed his hand, shoving it lower as she nodded, pouting in frustration.

He took that as his sign and surged down toward her, pulling her deep into a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft but commanding, pulling gasps from her as he worked his tongue past her lips. He massaged at her tongue with his own and suckled on it lightly, before pulling back and nibbling on her bottom lip.

It was everything she needed and yet entirely not enough. Her hands roved over him desperately attempting to pull him impossibly closer.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, moving down to a spot behind her ear that had her moaning out loud.

He nipped at it gently, nuzzling against her hair while his hands moved over her underwear, pants long forgotten somewhere around them.

The Hunter slid his middle finger up and down her slit, putting pressure near the top where she needed more.

She whimpered with need, almost thrashing around from the overwhelming sensations that brought her relief while simultaneously being not enough. He chuckled at her neediness, and she felt a sense of embarrassment wash over her.

He kissed his way down past her collarbone, sliding her shirt off and baring her to him completely, he nipped at the side of her breast and continued downward.

As he peeled her underwear back his eyes sparkled at the sight of her glistening pussy. Groaning, his breath blew puffs of air onto her sensitive lips, causing her to clench around nothing.

Lowering his face to her core, he licked a tentative stripe up her slit. Moaning at the taste, he dove in like a man starved. Licking into her so enthusiastically, she could swear she saw stars.

Alternating between fucking her little hole with his tongue and sucking and nibbling at her sensitive clit, he had her writhing about in minutes.

Frankly, it was embarrassing.

"God... You taste heavenly."

"Shut up."

He grinned up at her like the Cheshire cat from his place between her legs, sending a shiver up her spine.

As his tongue continued its exploration of her, he added a finger, pumping in and out of her at a torturous pace. Her breathing got heavier, and the coil in her belly got tighter. Her fingers tugged at his hair, tangling in the strands. Pathetic mewls escaped her mouth.

"i-I'm close" She breathed, eyes rolling back.

"C'mon sweetheart, give it to me." He mumbled into her skin, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He added a second finger, scissoring them inside her and found a spongey little spot that made her let out a noise like a wounded animal. He huffed a laugh and continued bullying the spot relentlessly.

She saw stars as she crested over, a shiver running from the top of her head down to her toes. Even as the sensations got too much, he didn't let up.

She kicked at him, attempting to shove him off. But his mouth stayed plastered to her mound, licking and sucking and nipping indiscriminately.

His fingers did not stop their assault on her poor abused hole, still fucking into that little spot that had her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She felt an odd sensation building in her tummy.

"Wh-wait! It feels-"

She tried to push him off, but he shushed her and kept going. The feeling grew bigger and rolled higher, and she wailed as she felt her orgasm crash over her in violent waves, shaking her body and causing her to curl in on herself.

When the feeling finally subsided after what seemed like forever, she breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath.

It wasn't until he looked up from between her legs, beard wet and grin wide that she'd realised what had happened. She squirted.

She opened her mouth to apologise but another cramp hit her, and she knew her heat wasn't done.

He looked over her as if checking she was alright. He locked eyes with her and gave her a questioning look, she smiled back at him lazily and nodded.

Pulling her up, he looped his arms under her knees and shoulders, carrying her to his bed.

He wasted no time, lining himself up with her entrance. She got a proper look at him for the first time, and God, he was thick.

He was a good length, enough that she knew she'd feel him inside her for a bit. But his girth was ridiculous, so thick that she most certainly would not be able to wrap her hands around him fully.

A tingle of fear shot through her and she worried if he'd fit or rip her apart. As she looked into his eyes and saw the hunger in them, she decided that she didn't mind going out this way.

He pushed into her in one go, and she felt her breath stop in her throat. She could feel all of him just nestled past her entrance, the heat emanating from him elicited a low moan from her. The stretch was intense, the burn travelling through her nerves, but she could also feel the heat of the pleasure from him pressing against her walls so deliciously.

He let out a long exhale as if reigning himself in for a semblance of self-control. He tried to look into her eyes, before fixating on a spot just above her head, a faraway look in his eyes.

Once the crazed look in his eyes softened somewhat, he began to move, sawing in and out of her.

Each drag of his length in and out, had him grinding against her clit perfectly. She felt the trembles of pleasure all over her body, and a heat in her ears from the sensations.

His chest pressed against hers, creating a wonderful sensation against her erect nipples. She gasped at the feeling arching her back in chase of the contact.

He grinned at her, enjoying the way he was destroying her fully.

As her orgasm built up in the base of her spine, he could feel her clenching around him harder and more sporadically.

Picking up the pace, he drove into her harder and faster, drawing out sounds of uh, uh, uh from her lips.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, trapping him against her. Encouraged by the act, he brought his teeth to her ear and nibbled lightly, enough to have her driven mad by the slight pinch.

He brought his hand down between her legs and drew tight circles around her swollen bud.

That was the last thing she remembered before fireworks exploded beneath her eyelids, and she couldn't remember exactly when she had shut them.

An electrifying jolt shot through her and she felt the tingles all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

She clenched down on him, drawing a grunt and as she felt him tremble above her she also felt his warmth spread between her legs, filling her up as he let out a low groan into her ear.

The sound shot straight to her pussy. As she came back down, she felt the feeling return in her legs and the ringing in her ears faded.

She opened her eyes and found him lying next to her just watching. He had questions in his eyes now, though the desire had subsided somewhat, though not a lot.

So she explained how she came from a long line of people who weren't ever quite right. How they all seemed to become more animal than human when they got angry, and how regular human spouses never lasted very long in her family.

She told him about her uncle and the horrors that came with her family the empire they had built, the mess that became of it all now in the wake of his death.

Then finally, she could barely look him in the eye when she told him that what had just happened was her heat, and they were now mated and she could not leave him, even if she wanted to.

Finally, she avoided facing him at all when she rushed out in one breath that she might be with child, and her heat was far from over.

She waited, holding her breath for a reaction. But the silence stretched out, so she turned to face him, a weight settling on her shoulders.

But as she looked into his eyes, she saw some hope in them.

"I understand heats and mating, I'm more animal myself most days;" He started, offering her something of a comforting smile.

"I just never believed there were others like me out there."

He smiled at her warmly then, and she felt a sense of relief. They'd be alright.

[lewiscarrolatemybrain]

I HAVE DADANBEARD PROPOGANDA

The real lynchpin in all of it is Ace, and Dadan and Whitebeard's wildly different experiences with/approaches to parenthood.

Whitebeard obviously intended to build a family for himself right from the start, he was willing to adopt the kids who needed him and thus he did exactly that. He has found purpose and joy in fatherhood.

in contrast, Dadan very much did not intend to become a mother, least of all to fucking Gold Roger's son. She struggled to take care of Ace in the beginning, and by the time she might have started to hit her stride Ace had closed off, and neither of them were able to connect with the other in any real way until the fire. But Dadan loves the shit out of Ace and his brothers.

I think there's a lot of really interesting avenues to explore there regarding Dadan's experience in raising Ace, particularly through the lens of the trauma of motherhood, and I think Whitebeard could be a really big influence in the two of them finally working through the lingering issues they have and admitting that they do see each other as mother and son. I also think that Whitebeard would respect a woman who ran into a fire and swung an axe at a pirate to protect her boys, even though Dadan is very not cut out for the kind of battles the Whitebeards regularly get into. That's fine. Dadan doesn't want to be that kind of crazy fighter, and she doesn't pretend to be.

I can picture Dadan resolutely refusing to admit she finds Whitebeard funny and charming and Whitebeard absolutely taking it as a challenge. He makes a joke and she cracks a tiny little "Pfft--" and he fucking WHIPS his head around to stare at her but she's white-knuckling her own knees to keep her poker face in place she absolutely will not give him the satisfaction of seeing her laugh. Whitebeard could encourage Dadan to bond with her son and support her strength and tenacity and give her an outlet to occasionally explore and find joy in her feminity and I think he would just be a wonderful partner for her genuinely. It's a little harder to see the inverse only because Whitebeard leads such a fulfilled life by his own standards that it's hard to imagine he feels his lack of romantic partner is an issue really but I guess therein is where the beauty stems from, because he isn't looking for a mother for his children or even really a life partner, Dadan wouldn't want to fulfil those roles and he wouldn't want her to, instead his attraction to Dadan would be built off the simple selfishness of enjoying her company and thinking she's pretty and wanting to spend more time with her, purely for the sake of it. I think it would be a very cozy kind of love for Whitebeard, which is something he doesn't get as the father, the leader, the rock people lean on. With Dadan he gets to be just Edward Newgate.

Also all the Whitebeard Pirates react to Whitebeard putting the moves on Dadan like hey good for you pops you still got it but Ace sees this happen and scREECHES

One Piece Crack Ship War - Round 3 Side H

'Dad shipping' art by @wdthl-shipart

North Blue Polycule edit made by @fivedayslater

Propaganda under the cut.

Dad shipping:

1. It would be funny. 2. They're Ace's parents. 3. Dadan would totes badmouth Whitebeard and he'd be impressed.

Thats Ace’s mom and dad right there.

North Blue polycule: No one understands North Blue Boy Angst better than the other North Blue Boys with their own flavor of North Blue Boy Angst.

[southernisled]

task 003; absence. Hans misses the only person who's ever loved & cared for him, his mother Sanne.

It was never a secret in the Westergaard family that Hans was regarded as the runt of his father's litter. The isolation his Mother endured as the youngest wife, the bullying he put up with as the weakest son, both of them being tossed to the bottom of the pile like trash. Sanne could have cut her losses and ran, she could have divorced and left him in that wicked, cruel palace with his awful father and barbaric brothers. But Sanne was kind, and loving and strong in ways no man could ever begin to comprehend, she stayed for love. She stayed for her son & lived with the consequences of it.

Dear Maman,

There's so much I want to tell you I don't even know where to start so lets begin with the obvious. I love you, and I miss you every single day. There is not an hour that passes that I don't think of you alone with those monsters. There is not a moment where I don't wish eternal misery to my godforsaken halfwit brothers and living corpse of a Father. I worry for you and your safety. I worry about what will happen when Niels finally takes over, where you will end up or what pathetic housing and allowance he will give you. Most of all I worry he would be evil enough to make you his wife, not that you would accept of course. I hope to be home by the time Father passes. I hope its my blade that pierces through his heart, and Niels, and anyone else who would dare get in our way. I hope to make the palace run red with their blood for the live they gave you, gave us. Have a glorious throne made of their bones fashioned for you as Queen Mother. I hope to return with alliances and armies that would grant us protection from anyone who would try challenge my claim. I have not forgotten my role in all of this. I have not forgotten about you and the life you have lived for me, to protect me. I do not take your love for granted and I swear to you, on my own life, that I will get us what is rightfully ours. I will repay you, I will avenge you for what it cost to be his wife. I will come home and I will tear down his empire brick by brick with bare hands and we will build a new Kingdom, and it shall have a new Queen.

Perhaps that last line was misleading, because Mother I have the most incredible news. Delight that will shock you and fill your bleeding heart with joy; I am going to be a Father. You will be a Grandmother, and I know it is not what either of us expected when I came to Evermore but I know how happy you will be to hear of it. Even better is that for the first time there will be a baby girl. This torture, toxicity, awfully cruel, hierarchy ends with her. There will be no one to challenge her claim or question her lineage, because even though I haven't met her yet; just like I would do it for you, I would kill anyone who dared try hurt her in anyway. Her Mother is called Aurora, like the borealis, is beautiful. She is soft, kind and deserving of everything wonderful. But I will be the first to admit I haven't been kind to her as of late. I was so worried I would end up like him. I didn't want a boy, I didn't want to be a Father knowing what Niels and Father would do if they found out. But I have decided it no longer matters because they will never meet either of my girls, at least not outside of a casket.

We are still a long way away from the due date, and everyday brings a more heightened level of anxiety but yet a clearer train of thought. Aurora has land, connections, parents who hold real power. Our daughter will grow up to lead two Kingdoms, and with Aurora's help we can change the course of the Westergaard name and turn it into something good. I know what I have to do. I know how I must make this world different for my Mother, my Daughter and my--- well I don't really have a name for Aurora to be honest. I considered proposing but it seemed tacky. Independent women and all that. My baby will bring opportunities you and I have been waiting years for. She will bring us alliances and land, power and connections. My baby will be the key to the happy ending you and I have been yearning for all these years. I know what I have to do and I will kill anyone who gets in our way.

I wish you were here. I wish I didn't have to do this alone, but I understand why. Please just hold on a little longer. I will bring you the peace we are deserved, the crown you are owed. I will bring you your Granddaughter, Queen of two Countries. I promise you, Maman, things are going to change and we will make them suffer.

All my love,

Your dutiful son, Hans.

[irlkokichiouma]

show kokichi plushie!!

im fucking crynig bro why does he LOOK like that

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.