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puppetmaster13u · 11 months ago

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Prompt 169

Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever.

It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident.

It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine.

He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages.

He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely.

Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings.

Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh.

Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case!

The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #wing au #Shayera & Carter: THAT IS A BABY #Danny who is still very distressed when he wakes up: I don’t know what’s going on & might start crying at any moment #He got brought to the Watchtower #Y’know what make it where his world is similar to a Flashpoint timeline & that’s why JL never came #He has no idea why he’s tiny and just wanted to go to one of his caretakers #The League is trying to figure out how to get this kid home but also subtly asking how his home life is #Danny: Oh I guess my bio-parent’s house is dangerous but my caretaker’s homes are really cool and safe!#The JL now think this child is in foster care of some sort in his world #Danny does nothing to dissuade this assumption #Honestly it’s really freaky for him to see people without wings & maybe clings to Hawkwoman & Hawkman #Look their wings might be metallic but at least they have them & he can actually recognize their body language #How can anyone deal with not being able to express with wings?!#Even if his were completely scorched from the Accident he could still move them and such!

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literaila · 4 months ago

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I seriously love the relationship between Megumi and reader. He is in fact, a mama's boy lol

But Dadgojo and Megumi moments are cute as hell too

So herw you go a small oneshot: Little Megs would always go to reader's or Tsumiki's bedroom when he has nightmares. He already trusts you enough to see him vulnerable and goes to seek for your protection, and of course you never complain and comfort him.

But this time is different. He had a nightmare and you were on a mission and Tsumiki is staying at a friend's house.

There is only one person left in the house: Gojo.

So, with the greatest shame and irritation in the world at having to depend on his annoying and childish dad, he goes to Gojo's room because at moments like these he can't stand being alone. So he eats his shame and goes to seek for him.

You can imagine reader's surprise when she comes back home in the morning and finds Satoru and your son cuddling together on the bed, Megumi's hold on Gojo's shirt tight as both sleep peacefully.

You swear you are not like Satoru, but you can't help it but to pick up the phone and take thousands of pictures of this rare moment, knowing it wont happen again (because Megumi won't do it twice after Satoru didn't stop mocking him about it.)

honestly you might as well just write the series for me. like do you wanna look in my inbox? you can write all of the one shots currently rotting away (i’m not asking im pleading)

this is so correct though.

megumi’s just not used to not having you home. when this arrangement first began you took some time off, let satoru handle everything (as per usual) so you could take care of the kids. adapt.

when you resume your former busy schedule, both of the kids are slightly thrown off. and satoru too—because he misses you. he’s known the caress of your absence and isn’t fond of the feeling.

and now it’s megumi’s turn.

but the boy doesn’t start having serious nightmares till around seven or eight (despite the…lack of an upbringing, the rotting apartment and cuddling with tsumiki in bed so neither of them froze in their sleep).

when it happens the first time, he sits there, waiting for some answer to come. he’s a quiet, stoic kid—and he doesn’t get scared. he’s not like his soft, kind sister. he doesn’t even flinch when others would jump.

he lays there until he falls asleep again. and he won’t mention it. megumi doesn’t need to worry you or satoru (mostly you) with this.

then it happens a second time.

this time he’s woken up on the verge of tears—already passed that breaking point—and he can’t stay in bed. he can’t lay there and recall images of monsters no child should understand.

so he gets out of bed—but just for a glass of water. he’s still not scared.

though it just so happens that you’re already in the kitchen when he gets there, and it just so happens that you know things about him—just because you know—so there’s nothing he can do to hide any of it.

still, you’ll only tilt your head at him, giving him a half-sleepy smile. “hey, megs. you okay?”

“i’m thirsty.”

so you get him his glass of water and you watch while he takes tentative sips.

again, somehow you just know. the same way that megumi knows that you know.

“are you having a hard time sleeping?” you ask him, after a minute of silence.

megumi shakes his head on instinct.

you’re still smiling. “bad dreams?”

and he could lie—he’s so very used to lying about things like this. megumi doesn’t want people to see him as this little boy who needs their help. he wants an equal playing field, and he doesn’t want to be scared.

but he is.

and when it comes to you, and only you, megumi is a terrible liar.

so he nods, and your smile remains—sure as always.

“i get ‘em too,” you whisper to him. “even when i was a kid. especially then.”

“you do?”

“yup. all the time.”

“what…” megumi furrows his brows. “what do you do?”

“hmm…” you go and stand beside him at the counter, leaning your chin on a hand. “well, it depends on the dream. sometimes they’re… smaller. and i can usually sleep through those ones, but i always remember them in the morning.”

megumi nods; he has all sorts of dreams.

dreams of running around with tsumiki, of going on missions with gojo. he dreams of you in the kitchen, you telling him to keep going. and he dreams of the dark. of a house that could never be a home.

he dreams of being all alone, and when he wakes up, it feels so real that he can’t help it.

he begins to believe that it’s true.

“when i have bigger ones, though, that i can’t sleep though… well, usually i just wake satoru up.”

megumi frowns. “why?”

“he’s so irritating that i forget all about the dream.”

“oh. yeah.”

you laugh. “or i just ask him for a hug. he always says yes. or i wake him up and we steal a car and drive around for a bit,” you add, almost absentmindedly.

megumi blinks, about to interrupt, but you continue.

“sometimes i just lay in bed until i fall back asleep. or i get up and do something else—get some water,” you give him a pointed look, “so that it feels less real.”

“does it work?”

“most of the time,” you answer, so softly. and you’re right there next to him, still smiling. “wanna watch a movie or something? i’ll let you pick.”

megumi frowns. you don’t like to let them stay up late (despite satoru’s many attempts to go out for gas station ice cream at three in the morning). “really?”

“sure.”

and you sit with him on the couch, not cuddling, but close enough.

megumi listens to you laugh at the random movie he put on—something tsumiki likes—and it feels a little bit better. he feels a little less alone.

and later on, just when he’s falling back to sleep, almost slumping on you, you’ll whisper to him: “the thing about nightmares, megumi,” your hand is in his hair and your voice is almost a lullaby. “is that you can always wake up.”

so megumi gets in the habit of looking for you when he’s had a nightmare—the bad ones, like you mentioned. he doesn’t ask you for a hug, or ask you to sit with him, but you do anyway.

and somehow the two of you will end up on the couch, or in his bed, so close together that megumi can’t have another bad dream (because he’s suffocating).

but on this night—the one night where you’re not home—megumi isn’t sure what to do.

because he doesn’t want to be alone. he doesn’t want to feel trapped in his room, and there’s no way he’s falling back asleep now, and why did he forget that you weren’t going to be home tonight, and—

“psst,” a voice says, a little bit amused. “why are you awake, kid?”

almost immediately megumi straightens. his arms cross like it’s a habit. and when he looks to gojo, he’s already expecting the grin. “why are you?”

“i was calling y/n. or she was calling me. it’s hard to be away from me, you know,” gojo is sprawled out on the couch, taking megumi’s spot.

“it can’t be that hard.”

gojo shakes his head, pouting. “are you awake because the guilt from all of the cruel things you say is keeping you up?”

megumi rolls his eyes. says a curt: “no,” and then pauses.

if you’re not here then what…

“what else could it be?”

“nothing,” megumi answers, immediately defensive.

gojo purses his lips, considering megumi. “why do you look weird?”

“why do you?”

“is that the only insult you’ve got?”

and finally, the boy gives in. he steps over to the couch, sitting down next to gojo (ten feet away) with his arms still crossed. “it’s late.”

“that’s no excuse, young fushiguro.”

they both sit there for a moment, staring off.

then gojo speaks up: “you know y/n would kill you if she knew you were awake, right?”

“no. she would kill you.”

“that’s…” gojo huffs. “true.”

at this, megumi lets out a grunt—it could be a laugh, could be a cough.

he doesn’t want to tell gojo about the dreams, he decides. because he doesn’t want to be ridiculed, and he doesn’t want gojo to tell you and then—

he’s not even scared. you’re gone, tsumiki is sleeping, and gojo is… staring at him.

“are you going to answer my question?”

megumi merely grunts again.

“c’mon, don’t make this awkward.”

“can’t. you already have.”

gojo scoffs, leaning back again, crossing his arms in a poor mimic. “we’ve been letting nanami watch you too much,” he says, but continues. “fine. don’t tell me. i can call y/n back right now and you can talk to—“

“no,” megumi looks over to him, wide eyes.

“then speak, kid.”

he sighs, annoyed. at least you’re right about one thing. it takes a moment, but megumi relents because he has to. “i had a bad dream.”

gojo’s face goes slack. “oh.”

megumi feels like crawling into himself, for just a moment, and then: “do you want to talk about it?”

blue eyes meet blue, and megumi frowns. “what?”

“do you want to talk about it?” gojo repeats, but… weirdly, this time. awkwardly.

“um..” is all the boy says, feeling like he should move away. like to his room away. like he should probably find someone else to live with, a random stranger, even, because that would be easier.

“i don’t know, okay?” gojo blurts out, like it was killing him not to. “that’s just what y/n asks me when i have a nightmare.”

“you have nightmares?”

gojo is running his hands through his hair, looking like he’s about to go on a tangent. but when megumi asks his question, gojo pauses. he gives megumi a look. “doesn’t everyone?”

megumi scowls. “i don’t know.”

“huh. well, i have them. sometimes.”

“and you tell y/n?”

gojo snorts, shaking his head. “there’s no telling y/n anything. she just—“

“knows.”

gojo nods, giving megumi a small wink that makes the little boy want to throw up.

“so…” gojo taps his fingers on the couch. “do you want to talk about it?”

“why would i want to talk about it with you?”

“well you came out into the living room looking all… surly.”

“surly?” megumi repeats, with a face.

“down. upset. sad.”

“i’m not sad.”

“people who aren’t sad don’t need to deny that they’re sad.”

“y/n isn’t here,” megumi says, shaking his head. “i could hit you and be fine.”

gojo laughs, again, relaxing once more. because the man cannot be serious for any longer than three minutes. it’s biologically impossible. “i’d like to see you try,” he whispers, and it’s just enough.

megumi falls asleep on the couch that night. he spends another half hour arguing with gojo about whatever he says—forgetting about his dream, the reason for coming into the living room in the first place.

and when you get home, you open the door to the sight of two boys, both drooling.

megumi has his head pressed against satoru’s shoulder, hair smushed against his face. satoru is crossing his arms, face tilted towards the ceiling as he snores.

…it’s pretty obvious what happens next.

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