#Bnha x male oc

[crudevil]

¿ANIMAL CANNIBAL? | BNHA X MALE READER

✶ synopsis : [platonic story] ‘The child cannibal’, a name that has followed you around every since the death of your family, not that you weren't the cause of their passing, you very much were. However, embracing that title comes with its challenges, especially when you grab the attention of a certain villain and his protégé…

✶ warnings : [can be updated] borderline yandere reader, cannibal reader, reader is based on nezuko (some features such as hair color and hair length may not be changeable), cannibalism, murder, follows manga, foul language, backstory (nezuko and shigaraki) spoilers, manga/anime spoilers, grooming, sexual assault, gore, etc.

✶ note : first official fic post, yippee! Please tell me if there are any grammatical errors. This will be posted on wattpad and quotev soon, it’ll be posted on ao3 a bit later as I am still figuring out how to work it. I DO NOT OWN MHA/KNY, I am simply making a fanfiction off of the stories and characters I like

✶ taglist : @slytherinroyalty16, @augustsjournal, ask to be notified about this story’s updates!

ARC 1 | The child cannibal

Chapter 001 — A name that sticks

to be continued…

✷ MY HERO ACADEMIA / @crudevil | wattpad | quotev | ao3 ✷

[justenjo]

Meow, meow meow... Meow 😿

[i-cant-sing]

To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

-

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

-

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

-

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

[cumtastiics]

tw yandere + forced marriage

inspo from american wedding by frank ocean + animal by sir chloe

"i feel like i'm behaving like an animal when i'm with you." he would mutter, his voice always low, resting with his leg on top of yours, his arm wrapped around your torso.

you wished it was only the night you met him, and you never asked to meet him again.

.. ☄. *. ⋆ ..

"i'm asking politely, so write your name. then you'll finally be married to me."

you looked at him through your white veil like he was an animal.

"do we have to?" your voice is slightly shaky as you spoke, giving away your vulnerability. "i mean, we- we didn't even have a proper wedding. why don't we do that first?"

you were just trying to buy time before you had to write your name in that fancy cursive.

"just sign it. we have to turn these in, y'know."

he was getting impatient.

that was never good.

"can i keep my last-"

"no."

he took the pen and paper from your hands, forging your signature.

you were no longer (y/n) (l/n).

you were (y/n) (new last name).

you lost the last part of who you really were before you met him.

he ruined everything.

oikawa tooru, kuroo tetsuro, daichi sawamura, bakugou katsuki, kai chisaki, shigaraki, dabi, hawks, endeavor, tengen uzui, al haitham, dottore, sukuna, kenjaku, naoya ++ ur favs :p

[ishzuprincess]

Kid shigaraki

[featherburnt]

➥ Til the Hurt is Gone: Bloodfeather

Title: A Lead Part #: 17 Pairing: Hawks x m!OC Word Count: 10,176  Tags: Blood, vague medical setting, poor medical treatment, government negligence, i have no understanding of how concussions work or even how Hawks would know that, mentions of prostitution, mentions of human trafficking, and more i’m sure

Summary: For three years, the hero Hellhound has been hunting, infiltrating groups of villains and probing for information in his search for one named Sonata, the former hero Prisma. A U.A. graduate, he should know better. He should be protecting civilians, hunting down villains when ordered, but his heart lingers on the pains of old memories, the hot desire for retribution burning in his chest. On one fateful night, when the enemy is locked in his sights, a man with vermillion wings snuffs the flames seated in his palms, using his words to burrow under his skin like a fowl little bug. What will he do then? Will he continue his hunt, or will boiling blood finally cool?

Gripped by apathy and doubt, Hawks receives a phone call from someone unexpected - and happens to come across someone else that makes him nervous.

As always, minors do not interact.

Two Days Later, 3:00PM

     Hawks stood by the sink, idly washing the steadily drying blood from his hands while Hellhound slept, detached and apprehensive.

     It’d been nearly two full days since the mock battle with Tarot, and Hellhound had yet to show any signs of regaining consciousness. Hawks had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on him, monitoring his injuries and changing his flesh-and-blood addled bandages when needed, when the time had been afforded to him. He’d kept busy in between check-ins with the infirmary, poking his head into his agency in Fukuoka and putting in a few calls, doing favors, doing work, digging through archives and the odd How-To to help put some things into perspective, connect some dots, and scrounge for information on Kioku Nusumi and her allies, but it’d been scarce at best. The circumstances he’d found himself in since he agreed to sit down with Nogitsune for the first time required an exercise in common sense, especially given that no one involved seemed to have any; Emotions ran too high on one hand, and the demand for secrecy - or, at least, ambiguity - left far too many questions unanswered on the other. Of course, much more had come to mind than puzzling out the Director’s true intentions or the threat that was looming over them, but he hadn’t much wanted to dwell on his own sentiments, having not been as discerning as he should’ve been, too invested in a kindred spirit.

     Even if that’s what it meant to be a hero, to invest oneself in the safety, protection, and betterment of others’ lives, he was toeing a dangerous line.

     He closed his eyes, digging flakes of blood out from between the creases in his palms and rinsing them away under the steady flow of water, his thoughts circling his mind like vultures starved for carrion - only, Hellhound was the proverbial carcass, where all his thoughts had been stemming from for nearly a week. 

     It was both a monumental pain in the ass and cause of genuine concern to so quickly be thoroughly entangled in Nogitsune’s mess and the Director’s plans, to the point any direct action he took would affect the outcome in some way, however major or minor, and sentimentality and kinship was assuredly affecting him now. His influence over Hellhound was perhaps minimal, but he’d already begun to see small differences in his demeanor, watching as whatever hopeful words he could spare in the moment seeded and took root. For every bit of fear and anger burning within Hellhound, there was a small, quiet, stubborn effort to keep moving forward that ran adjacent to his baseline persistence, and while Hawks couldn’t rightly take credit for it, he knew it was in part thanks to his encouragement that Hellhound was able to face the Director - and Tarot - at all. To be of use, to be helpful, to do what he could in too tight a spot– He was grateful to have been able to do anything to lessen the burden, if only because there’d not been anyone to do the same for him, and there was a bothersome sort of irony in that, to not want to deal with any of this at all and yet diving in head-first anyway. 

     Despite this one win, however, Hawks had directly contributed to Hellhound’s suffering, forsaking him as he begged for help the only way he knew how; Silently and with fear in his eyes.

     There were still a great number of things that needed to be done, but the most important had been taken care of - keeping Hellhound, at the very least, alive. What came next would invariably change everything, or it wouldn’t, or it would in a way that wouldn’t be immediately obvious, provided Hellhound awakened. Before, Hawks had been certain informing him of his failure to kill Prisma would only further deteriorate his mental and emotional state, teetering on the deciding line, but, now, after having made his calls and seen that the truth really and truly mattered most to Hellhound, he would tell him the moment he woke. Both his and Nogitsune’s lives hung in the balance, after all, and nothing could be done about the Commission, their relationship, Prisma, or anything else unless the truth had been revealed and an appropriately united front could be amassed. 

      Provided Hellhound came to.

     He heaved a sigh, opening his eyes to glance down at his hands, the suds collecting around his fingers reddish with the wash of blood as he scrubbed and scrubbed, picking at what was caked under his fingernails. 

     But Nogitsune’s lack of interference where he’d made a promise to do so had only further muddied the circumstances; The tenderness of Hellhound’s heart and oppressive weight crushing his mind were unbearably obvious and difficult to see, and there weren’t enough people who cared about the effects of what they inflicted upon him - or anyone else. Nogitsune could be placed into both categories, as one who cared but not enough. It was clear to anyone with a pair of eyes that his intentions were obscured, his actions never matching his words, and perhaps it was naive to think he would act appropriately in the first place, or follow through on the loud proclamations he swore. It seemed, to Hawks, that Nogitsune wanted, desperately, to play an active role in Hellhound’s life - to help - but he was a complicated man, in the end. Would acting, would intervening, have helped Hellhound in the long- or short-run? Doing so had proven little more than a means of anchoring him to the falsehoods spun by the Commission, irrevocably entangled him in a line of work, organization, and series of events that’d only brought him harm. By the time anything could be done about the Commission, Hellhound would never be the same person again, either a shadow or triumphant representation of himself, but a ghost nevertheless. Trauma, pain, betrayal, and extreme physical injury changed people; Why would he be any different?

     And why should Nogitsune’s willful betrayal at every turn be forgiven? He’d broken to pieces every one of Hellhound’s boundaries by abandoning him to his fate, tacitly setting him up for failure in the hopes he would find a way to succeed, lying to him about numerous vital aspects of his life in the horrifically vain hopes that he was protecting him. Wasn’t he stubborn enough? Wasn’t he strong enough? Hadn’t Nogitsune drug him through the mud enough times for him to know , right off, that he could do it himself without that which was most important to him? Did Nogitsune not see that, after his mother’s death, their friendship was one of the few things Hellhound still had…? And, now, even in the beginning, they were reaping the fruits of his labor - with Hellhound unconscious and slipping evermore into reaches few could bring him back from.

     Hawks picked at his cuticles, pressing his fingers into his calloused palms beneath the stream, gently clenching his fist as he washed around his wrists and lower forearms.

     Maybe it was hypocritical of him, to criticize Nogitsune - he was never blameless in all this, not from the start.

     It’d taken hours, when he’d gotten Hellhound to the empty infirmary, to clean his wounds and even longer to stop the bleeding, underprepared and short on time, and since, it had only become marginally less difficult to replace his bandages. He’d been careful, however, keeping his hands clean every step of the way as a pair of nitrile gloves had been, somehow, entirely impossible to locate. 

     There must’ve been a shortage - probably - but even if that had been the case, for there to be no spare gloves anywhere he'd looked didn't bode well. 

     Luckily, however, none of Hellhound’s injuries had shown any signs of infection, which was a miracle unto itself when taking into account the sheer amount of filth and debris in the water with which Tarot assaulted him and especially that Hawks' hands had been bare, though the possibility yet remained. But Hawks had been careful there, too, to wash it all away. His burns hadn’t been as severe as the ones he incurred during the fight with Bat Wing, but Tarot had done a number on him and seeing him more broken, more defeated than ever in so brief a passage of time brought to heel Hawks’ own faint hopefulness. He was worried, wordlessly watching over him while he slept, going through everything that’d led up to that point in his head, but what pricked at him most was the possibility Hellhound might not wake up.

     When he’d gotten him to the infirmary and finally had the chance to survey the damage properly, Hellhound’s head had been split open in a few troubling spots - most notably, his temples and the back of his skull - and while Hawks had no expert knowledge on head trauma, it was clear that the damage had been great. It was enough to knock him out and keep him out of commission for a few days now, which could only mean he’d suffered a severe concussion or worse on top of his numerous other injuries. It didn’t much matter the type of injury it was, however, because, either way, he hadn’t woken, didn’t show any signs of waking, and the damage done to his brain was enough to keep him in this unresponsive, sleeping state. Gashes caused by repeated impact against tile and stone, fractures, smaller and decidedly negligible cuts here and there, bruises, swelling–

      Did Tarot intend to leave him with permanent injuries…? If he couldn’t kill him, he was going to do everything he could to sabotage any possible progress, and head injuries like these–

     It was by some impossible miracle by the grace of some merciful god that he was able to keep the worst of it from worsening, holding shock at bay, but his usefulness here was nearing its end.

     Hawks rinsed and shook the water from his hands, absently reaching for a small handful of paper towels to finish, and, then, he stepped away from the sink, turning on his heel and looking thoughtfully upon Hellhound’s unconscious form. He tentatively approached the side of the bed, sliding on his costume gloves as he made his way around the other beds and side tables, tossing the wad of paper towels aside. A bitter expression spread across his face and he made no move to conceal it. 

     He should’ve done more, should’ve intervened more deterministically, but he hadn’t - couldn’t . The risks posed were more than a mere roadblock and if he’d more obviously broken the rules, the consequences would’ve been swiftly realized. Where Hellhound may have been subjected to torture, imprisoned, or forced to watch Nogitsune die, Hawks would’ve likely been entreated to the same or worse. Maybe his own mother would’ve been taken, murdered– 

     He forced himself to lay that thought to rest for the time being, a hand rising to settle on the guard rail lining Hellhound’s bed. 

     He couldn’t have done more, but he wished the circumstances allowed him the room, and even if it was effectively out of his hands, it was his turn to take the blame for Hellhound’s continued victimization. A precedent had been set and he’d done nothing to change it, thinking it best to bide his time so he might learn, gather information, build his strength until the moment to strike had come - and how idiotic a choice it was to make. What'd generally always been a sound strategy had spectacularly failed, blowing up in his face like a prejudicial bomb. Hellhound yet again suffered most, now bedridden and comatose, due to the incompetence of all those around him - Hawks included.

     Even the best of them all made bad fucking judgement calls. 

      I owe you an apology, pup…

     He looked Hellhound over, scanning his body for any injuries he may have missed, but nothing stuck out to him. Every bruise he had was now darker, particularly the ones around his swollen eyes and nose - which had already been awful in the first place - blackish purple in color. His burgundy hair stuck to him in a knotted mess, unnaturally parted in some areas due to his head injuries, but Hawks was sure to keep his hair out of his face with a cool, damp cloth wrapped around a cold pack on his forehead to help prevent any spikes in his temperature. He placed a number of cold packs around his body, too, and further insulated them with bundles of ice in spots already prone to heightened temperatures in the hopes it might help to minimize any differences in temperature. It was dangerous to leave him without any form of regulation and he’d seen as much with his own eyes not once, but twice now. 

     Hellhound contained within him a wealth of power and it seemed to shift and change right before Hawks’ eyes every time it was used, but for as vast and flashy a well it was, it’d been noticeably weaker during the mock battle than before, when they’d crossed paths with Bat Wing. Brilliant and beautiful, even strangely relieving in its own right, but no matter how brightly his flame burned, it was predicated on a foundation of panic. Hellhound could level a city block under the right conditions; Had he been so shaken, so rattled, with fear of Tarot that even after transforming into that horrible, skinless, monstrous beast and using his flames to fly across the training field, he couldn’t actually go beyond? Tarot intimidated him into muting his own quirk, frantically diluting his power out of sheer, seemingly unlimited fear, and only righteous anger had been his saving grace. Yet, still, somehow it was like watching a completely different person fight - a weaker, less discerning man.

     But, still, he fought and won regardless of his fears, and, to Hawks, that spoke highly of his strength, even if he’d wound up in another hospital bed in the end. It meant his strength could falter but would never truly fade, that the rawness of his emotions had been both a blessing and a curse.

     If only he’d never been forced into this position.

     Hawks took a small, miniscule comfort in knowing that Hellhound hadn’t lied about his supposed ability to fly, however new and infantile it was.

     He furrowed his brow, allowing his gaze to travel along the narrow slopes of Hellhound’s cheeks to the swell of his scarred and split lips, absently counting every freckle and knick dappling his coppery skin. Lengths of long, chunky burgundy pooled all around him, mussed and filthy, and he thought it complimented the many other aspects of his physical attributes; As injured and dirty as he was, he could still be handsome, and, in some ways, that made Hawks all the more bitter - not that he really cared about looks to any tangible capacity. It was simply a shame that Hellhound should be entreated to so much pain, to countless old wounds getting ripped open over and over again, and to be handsome even still. 

     Pain wasn’t supposed to be beautiful, and it wasn’t, yet here he was, sleeping soundly in the gloom where the sunlight could not reach him.

     Suddenly, his cell phone began to buzz, vibrating noisily in his jacket pocket and jarring him from his tumultuous stupor. He let it continue, prolonging the inevitable as he apprehensively stared down at Hellhound, but, then, he answered, only briefly checking the caller ID. A restricted number scrolled across the screen.

     He didn’t dare utter a word, listening to the quiet feedback crackling in his ear.

     “Hawks, sweetheart.” A woman’s voice came through, uniquely sultry in tone, and decidedly firm, commanding, powerful despite its sensuous lilt. Though he hadn’t been able to get ahold of her since his first meeting with Nogitsune, he knew, instantly, that it was none other than Crovita herself.

     “Sorry, who is this? How’d you get this number? Don’tcha know it’s rude to call people when they’re at work?” he said playfully, furrowing his brow and tightening his grip around the guard rail, his words not betraying how he felt in truth. He tried to keep his voice low to respect Hellhound’s rest, but he would leave before too long. He had much to do before the day was out.

     “You’re cute, but not that cute,” Crovita purred plainly, unamused. “We need to talk, darling. Lend an ear, won’t you? It’ll only be a moment.”

     She was being uncharacteristically pleasant , but he knew the truth. She was not to be trifled with and, in some instances, she’d been more frightening than he’d cared to admit - and that only covered what he’d heard through rumors .

     “What’s it gonna cost me, Crovita? Ya never wanna talk unless there’s somethin’ in it for you. What’s the play? Whadda ya want?”

     “All I want to know is how Hellhound is faring. Is he all right? Tarot didn’t hurt him too badly, did he? He’s been through quite enough, my dear, and I won’t be pleased if anything’s happened to him that cannot be reversed.” Her tone steadily dipped, more serious now.

     “How’d ya find out about Tarot?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Either she spoke to Nogitsune or Tarot himself, or managed to successfully undermine the many security protocols  put into place by the Commission - one of the two, maybe even both. Slowly, he released the guard rail and took a step backward, away from the bed, his gaze lingering on the bruises around Hellhound’s eyes and the long, burgundy lashes framing them for a few spare moments until he finally turned away. 

     “I have my sources, sweetheart, as you have yours. Will you tell me, please? I’ll give you what information I have on Kioku Nusumi in return, since you’ll be… assisting Hellhound. I’m afraid it won’t be as comprehensive as either of us would like it to be, however, but you’ll make do. You’re good at that.”

     “Ya sure it’s wise to talk about it over the phone? Ya never know who might be eavesdropping, y’know, and the Commission’s awfully nosy.” 

     He guessed she knew about Kioku Nusumi in much the same manner as the latter or perhaps due to some amount of experience, and he would oblige her, of course, and not only because she was willing to trade information for something so plain as a status report. Playing her game would yield results, that was true, but there was something tugging at the man in him, not the hero, an urge borne of sentimentality - respect for the good-natured concern Crovita so rarely displayed. That was reason enough for him, in the moment; He could afford to ask questions and be a mite liberal…

     “Don’t be silly, dear. My line is encrypted and the Commission won’t bother with me. There’s a reason I called you now and not before or later.”

     “Clever girl, aren’tcha? Sometimes I forget you have all your fingers in all the right pies.” He paused, walking toward the infirmary’s door, intending to leave, something small and quiet stalling him once more. For the briefest moment, he took one last look at the unconscious hero, pity and worry twisting his guts. “Hellhound’s been unconscious for a couple of days now, ever since the fight. Somehow, nothin’s broken, but he took a few blows to the head. He’s most likely got a grade-four concussion. Took a while to stop the bleeding, but he’s been taken care of; It’s just gonna take some time for him to wake up.” Stepping into the hallway, he shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall across from it, unperturbed by the diminished size of his wings. He’d flown back and forth between his agency in Fukuoka and Commission HQ in Shizuoka; It was no wonder his wings were small, almost unnoticeable really, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll be okay. You know - better than I do - that he’s too stubborn to let something like this keep him down.”

     She sighed deeply and grumbled something to herself he couldn’t quite discern, but he had a hunch nonetheless. 

     He wanted to believe what he was saying, too, that Hellhound would get back up again with all the same fiery tenacity he’d shown since their first meeting.

     “And– Tarot?”

     He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He didn’t stop himself.

     “Hellhound sure took a beating from him, but turned it back around ten-fold. Didn’t stop until he was knocked out and even then, he was on edge– Tarot’s broken in more places - seriously, turned that guy into a human pretzel - I’ll put it that way.”

     “...I see. Hellhound prevailed.” She fell silent for a time; She was employed at the Foxfire Agency when both Tarot and Hellhound were there. She knew a great deal more about their relationship, no doubt thinking about it now. A sigh came through the speaker, as if she’d released a breath she’d been holding for many years, then, “That’s good. I’m relieved to hear it.”

     Hawks jammed his free hand into his pocket, wondering why she really called him, what she wanted from him. She was never the type to make phone calls out of the blue, so it’d always been difficult getting ahold of her and staying in contact; Her numbers always changed or were often restricted and she was better at covering her tracks than even the best of the best, keeping a few hackers in close and amicable proximity. Scrambling or encrypting data or any communicative function was child’s play for her. The Lady of the Underground, dark and terrible as any villain but as virtuous and focused as any hero besides, kept herself out of the limelight and everyone else at a distance for the sole purpose of handling the shadier aspects of heroism without interruption nor elevated risk. Having an understanding of how the world worked beyond rigid morality was as important as it was inconvenient for societal narratives, diametrically opposing the Hero Public Safety Commission’s public motto, in an effort to limit or dampen drug and human trafficking directly and at a high rate of success. She didn’t have the time to entertain conversations about bygone eras or long lost friends when waiting on a deal to go through with the foul and unrepentant dregs of society; Saving the victims of would-be traffickers from a short lifetime of forced drug dependency, rape, torture, experimentation, and other crimes was her chief M.O. The rest could and would often fall by the wayside. 

     So, what did she have to say? What did she know about Kioku Nusumi, Tarot, and Hellhound? Nogitsune? What did she really want to know: every last detail, or a brief summary? And what of the Director? What did she already know? What was she digging for exactly, and would it be a profitable exchange? What did she have to offer that would lighten both his and Hellhound’s load…?

      Maybe I’m being a bit too cautious here.

     “He put up one hell of a fight, Crovita, hard as it was for him… It was difficult to watch,” he continued plainly, through tight lips. “But, maybe it was good for him to confront Tarot, even if the circumstances are wholly unethical… There’s nothin’ saying he’ll be okay after this, less sayin’ he’ll make a full recovery, but he’ll have one less thing haunting him. That’s for sure.”

      Presumptuous, maybe…

     “Perhaps, my dear, perhaps,” she said smoothly, the faint clinking of glass and metal worming through his phone’s feedback, high-pitched static on the same frequency. “It sounds like you had a direct hand in treating his injuries. “Whisking him away like a thief in the night to the nearest hospital for care wasn’t an option?”

      You’ve got eyes everywhere, huh? Seems like Hellhound wasn’t dead or missing so much as his appearances went unreported, ignored even. Sounds like you pulled some strings, Crovita, if you’re letting this slip now, and with your network of informants and hackers, I’m willing to bet you knew Hellhound was alive all along. Helping him, too, in your own unique, hands-off sort of way; Maybe working with Nogitsune all the while…

     Does everyone from Foxfire operate like this? Two for two, now.

     He glanced at the ceiling tiles above, ignoring the fluorescent tubal lighting outright. Having even one of his suspicions confirmed was enough; He wasn’t going to call her out on it.

     “Nah, you know how the Director is. Wheeling Hellhound into a hospital the same day he’s released from one would ruffle too many feathers. Had to stay in-house with this one. Trouble is, there wasn’t any staff in the infirmary when I brought him and no one’s turned up since, so I’ve had to stitch him up and swap everything out on my own. The Director’s keeping everything concerning him hush-hush, for the most part, so it’s not surprising.” He drew his gaze from above and shot it down both ends of the empty hallway, swallowing thinly. “Frustrating, though. It’s like they want him to fail–”

     “Sabotage, subtle or bold, friend or foe. The Commission has always had a penchant for simultaneously putting all their eggs in one basket and promptly dropping it into the abyss.” She clicked her tongue and sucked in a breath. “I appreciate your honesty.”

     She didn’t want to hear any more; He could take the hint. 

      “Lying to you doesn’t exactly seem like it would help the situation any, an’ I’ve gotta feeling Hellhound would have a bit of a problem with me refusing to play ball - with an old friend he probably owes his life to.”

      “You’re catching on quickly, darling,” Crovita cooed, the hints of a smile filtering into her voice. “But I digress. You’ve done as I asked. In return, I’ll tell you anything you wish to know  about Kioku Nusumi - for Hellhound’s sake.”

      Perfect. He already knew just what to ask.

     “How did you find out he was assigned to her case?” A suspicious tone threatened to leak into his words, hanging on the trail of his sentence by little more than a thread. “Your timing’s just a little too convenient, even a little suspicious.”

     “Oh, sweetie, was I being too obvious?” she chuckled, almost mockingly. She’d dropped hints deliberately after all, then. “CCTV cameras and computers are a simple thing to hack into, and I wanted to see Hellhound’s press release for myself. It was by chance I saw one Hatsukawa Teiko cavorting with that fiendish little twit, and again, later, that twit with Tarot, when you and Nogitsune’d been occupied with other things. It seems both had information she was willing to risk capture to acquire and her gamble quite paid off, though I believe her schmoozing with Miss Hatsukawa had been purely to… sever a particular line of communication, the results of which only Hellhound will be able to discern.”

     She didn’t answer his question directly. If she learned Hellhound had been assigned to hunting down Kioku Nusumi, it couldn’t have been through a simple hack; Kill orders were classified, completely redacted, and filed away on paper. Who did she talk to before she ever bothered to call him?

     …Nogitsune.

     “Ballsy, I’ll give her that,” he said, deciding to drop his previous question if Crovita was unwilling to answer it in truth. Besides, it wasn’t entirely out of the question that she should know in any way, if she’d been monitoring Hellhound herself and maintaining a relationship with Nogitsune. Still, that implied she’d been relying upon the Kitsune Hero for anything, and if Hawks had known anything at all about her, it was that she was prideful. “Any idea what she was looking for?”

     “Nothing immediately obvious, but Tarot handed her a thumbdrive. What that thumbdrive contains, I’m unsure, but considering she’s Prisma’s right-hand woman and the second-in-command of their little ‘organization’ - the Red Letter; such a dreadfully unoriginal name - it’s clear her intentions were to get inside information. Tarot’s unafraid of the consequences of having and using that gaping hole of a mouth of his, especially if it means he may gain something from it in the end," she posited, allowing a thinly veiled warning to slip. How charitable of her, though he’d no doubts she’d done so on purpose. “Perhaps she was after information on both Hellhound and Bat Wing, or any others they might seek. If that’s true, then their group potentially aims to free one of their own and capture one of ours, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they’re planning something else more damaging than simply that,” Crovita continued, half-musing to herself, a questionable lilt rolling off her tongue as if she were playing coy. “Any day now, they’ll likely make a move and use the resulting commotion to their advantage. It would be best to prepare for that, dear.”

      That’s what I was thinking, too. Gathering intel precludes action. This might be far from their primary objective, but it will be the second time they’ve made a move in less than a week, which means they’re getting bolder - ready to move on to something bigger.

     “What’s on that drive’s gotta be patrols, personnel rosters, schedules, locations, security codes– If any changes are made to what they already know, they’ll get suspicious, turn tail and run. We can’t give them that opportunity, but we can’t hand Bat Wing or Hellhound to them on a silver platter either.”

     “True, if simplistic, but you may have to allow them to escape. The Red Letter won’t suffer another loss so easily. Cowardice - fleeing to safety in order to fight another day - is a viable course of action for them to take, but there will be other opportunities, if you should fail. Every action they’ve taken has sent ripples through the underground, sweetheart, and I can feel them from here. They won’t stop until they have what they want, and what they want - I assume you know - is to usher in a world where only the strong may survive at the expense of the weak, to accelerate and capitalize on the supposed eventuality of the Quirk Singularity Theory. They seem to believe in an extreme form of accelerated darwinism.The details concerning their ideology and how they plan to… excise the cancer of weakness they believe is crippling our society are in their published manifesto,‘ Garden World’ - I recommend picking up a copy. It was released quietly in limited supply alongside Destro’s autobiography, so it largely flew under the radar, only gathering the more studious villains to their side by chance while Destro’s flew off the shelves.”

     Hawks screwed his eyes shut, yanking his hand free of his pocket if only to briefly rub and pinch at the bridge of his nose, beneath his visor. He pried his cellphone from his ear and tilted his head backward and to the side, stretching the muscles in his neck and grimacing all the while. 

     The more he knew, the more involved he was, the more irritating, the more distressing, the circumstances became.

     He pressed his cellphone to his ear once more. Crovita still had plenty to say.

     "However, their vetting and determination processes are extremely thorough, with their focus on quality over quantity. Simply reading their manifesto means little to them if their target audience cannot… walk the walk, so to speak. They only accept those who possess multiple quirks into their ranks, with only one exception to the rule, but even she will outlive her usefulness. Kioku Nusumi - Kanetsuki Utako - was chosen for her intelligence, codependency, and, most importantly, her quirk. She's proven herself quite the worthwhile investment, too, darling, with her ability to add, remove, and scramble one's memories. Her history of involvement and direct employ by the Shie Kanetsuki played heavily into her consideration. Despite her lack of combat prowess and limited scope, she is formidable, and any other villain she's gotten her hands on is wrapped snugly around her finger - and all it takes is her touch. Crossing her is effectively identical to signing your own death warrant, or losing the core of your being to someone who would otherwise dispose of it. "

     He already knew that much. Although–

     "Wait a sec– You said she was chosen to join the Red Letter, in part, for her codependency , implying she's reliant upon something or someone within it. That’s too easy a weakness to exploit."

     "She's just as much a puppet as she is a puppeteer, my dear,” Crovita said, almost somberly. “Prisma keeps her on a long, loose leash, and in exchange for this illusion of freedom, she uses her quirk to brainwash and destroy both friend and foe alike. He plucked her from the clutches of her yakuza family and, now, preys on her need to love and be loved, using her as assuredly as they had. It's tragic, really, that a capable and intelligent woman like that twit should be wasted on the likes of that beast."

     "She’s not someone Hellhound will want to–”

     “Under no circumstances is he to follow that kill order, Hawks. Kioku Nusumi is a villain, yes, and she may even deserve much of what she suffers or has suffered, but she is also a victim of circumstance and in harm’s way at all times. There is a possibility that she may be swayed to surrender. Moreover, executing a member of the Red Letter would only serve to make a martyr of her, thereby emboldening them and pushing yet more to join their side of villainy.”

     “Then we agree.”

     “Quite right, dear. Hellhound may be reckless and idiotic, but he’s no killer and he shouldn’t be forced to be. Still, in the event he succumbs to the heat of his quirk, please, intervene. Nogitsune’s failures cannot be propagated by anyone else, or we will lose Hellhound. Not to villainy, but to death. He can only work with people he trusts implicitly, and if he can’t trust a soul on our side, what hope is there for him? Foster what little trust he’s given to you and let it mean something. To suffer his loss a second time will not bode well with myself nor the other former members of Foxfire, especially if that loss proves permanent.”

      “You’re starting to sound like a gentler version of the Director, like if the Director actually had a heart,” he teased, but there was little meaning behind it, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against to give his meager wings some room to flex and breathe. 

     Crovita scoffed loudly, as if snorting and sneering and half-screeching like an offended bird. She was a harpy, after all. She spat, “Oh, darling, if I didn’t think cursing was beneath me, I’d rip you to shreds with words alone.”

     He chuckled half-heartedly but said nothing more about it, his mood steadily beginning to change. 

     Another lecture about Hellhound had been altogether unnecessary and he resented that she felt the need to do so, but, at the same time, he understood completely. She was his friend, perhaps his mentor at one time or another, but she was also buried deep in the underbelly of hero society, entrenched in the fight against human trafficking. She couldn’t speak to him herself lest she drag him into that world alongside her, couldn’t impart any wisdom nor information - he was entirely beyond her reach despite being within her line of sight; Her lecture wasn’t about anything more than her fear for his life in any circumstance, and Hawks couldn’t fault her for that.

     People were complex, emotional creatures at the best and worst of times, and she was no different. Neither am I…

     “Thanks for the info, Crovita,” he said soberly. “We’ve got a few leads now.”

     “Not so fast. Before I close this call, there’s something else, dear,” she replied, every bit of irritation in her tone now lost, replaced by something aged and tired. “It would be increasingly beneficial if you both had more help; While you each have your strengths and weaknesses, neither of you can make up for them all, so you will need an extra set of hands - or even two. I suggest you contact Black Knight and Lightbringer, for this will not be an easy undertaking and, as I understand it, Stargazer will also be involved in time– Their approximate locations are in the same city. Tomigaya, Shibuya, to be precise.”

     “Already tried Black Knight. He hasn’t returned any of my calls and I’ve been trying for a week now. ‘Sides, he’s retired–”

     She cut him off quickly. Again.

     “Not technically, dear. Abandoning one’s post is quite a different thing, but I digress. A man like him cannot stay idle for long and, in truth, he’s been quite busy with an…unconventional case, I’ll put it that way. One that would be rather scandalous in today’s sociopolitical climate. There’s an American immigrant by the name of Fait Miris - a young, gay immigrant - currently stuck in a horrific set of circumstances all his own, both legally and criminally, and Black Knight has taken a keen interest in his case. Perhaps you could lend him a hand.”

     “Give a little, get a little. I get what you’re saying. What’s so special about this case? The way you’re dancing around it, it sounds like it’s more unsavory than merely being non-standard.” It sounds like you’re hinting at something worse than this guy being a gay immigrant. Sex worker, maybe?

     “Oh, this boy is special, darling, and for more than one reason. Faith, as he’s called in most circles, is not only pursued by Black Knight, but he’s also Hellhound’s only living relative. His older brother, in fact. He is entirely unknown to Hellhound and, as I think of him now, perhaps if he knew of him, the potentiality that he might allow himself to be killed could be eliminated.”

     “Why doesn’t he know about him?”

     “He’s a prostitute–”

     Thought so.

      “--and has kept himself from contacting Hellhound directly to kindle a familial bond because he knows exactly how that would appear to on-lookers, the media, and the government alike. As much as he’d like to, he simply won’t allow it; Preserving Hellhound’s reputation is decidedly an incredibly important brotherly goal for him to take on, dear. Anything else is simply none of our business.”

     Hawks thought about what might await him on the other end of that, what Black Knight could really be investigating - or if Crovita’d been using such language to imply something else . In which case, he hadn’t much cared; It’s not as if he wasn’t also in a relatively precarious position with his own sexuality, but, more than that, assuming it was an intimate relationship in the first place was presumptuous however expected. Black Knight was a discerning man who rarely erred in interpersonal judgments, and this extended well into his hero work, proving just how seriously he took it. Helping people came at an already unfathomable cost at times, and while he wasn't cartoonishly overpowered like so many others, he applied his reasoning and 'boots on the ground' approach to nearly all situations, often a first responder to even the best and worst of catastrophic events. 

     There was no reason for Hawks to assume anything. It was kind of Black Knight to lend a hand to someone in need, speaking volumes of his deep-seated principles. That’s what made him a hero, even after he’d retired, isn’t it?

     Whatever ended up being the case, the give a little, get a little principle would suffice for the moment; Hawks couldn’t begrudge a man making a positive difference in his own way, especially as it pertained to that which no one was willing to talk about outright.

     “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, casting sidelong glances down either end of the hallway. No one had come to bother him and there’d been no cameras in this particular hall - a rare stroke of luck he wasn’t willing to snub. “It’d be worth looking into, at least.”

     Crovita let out a pleased coo, purring like a dove on a cool spring morning - which, while specific as hell, was as accurate as it got. “I’ll keep my eyes open and forward you any information I receive that might be useful to you, dear, but that will be the extent of my help. You understand, of course.”

     “Totally get it, Crovita. This was more than enough. Getting a head start will be more helpful than you know,” he offered graciously, tipping his head back to breathe a hushed breath. “Thanks, again.”     And just like that, the line was abruptly cut, the frequency skipping a few beats before fizzling into static and, finally, silence.

     He stashed his phone away in his pocket, hoping Crovita would keep her word, but with all she’d told him, he now knew where to look properly instead of trying to grasp at straws. He didn’t know everything and couldn’t always get every little detail of every little thing - it’s unrealistic to think anyone could - but he would be able to piece together that much more of the puzzle even with Hellhound’s incapacitation. Before he could begin, however, he was going to check the evening-shift roster for Commission employees once again - and pray to whatever gods still in existence that someone in the medical field was scheduled; He’d be satisfied with a phlebotomist, at this point, but Hellhound needed better care than that, especially with how severe his injuries had been. And, if he’d been so worried about his head injuries, then he’d better act with haste.

     With a, somehow, renewed sense of purpose, Hawks shirked the restless, detached sort of anxiety that’d been pricking at him, weighing him down. There was no use in allowing himself to dwell on the harsh realities of the situation when he’d already accepted them, frustrated, apprehensive, and troubled as he’d been. Hellhound was depending on him, whether either of them wanted this to be true or not, and it was then, in that moment, that Hawks realized just how far-reaching his influence on their circumstances really was. While teamwork was decidedly something he’d wanted to work on with him and use to strengthen their slow-burn friendship, it would be that friendship that ultimately decided whether or not Hellhound would pull through the rest of all this. He hated that more than he could rightly say–

     What if he failed him? He’d already dropped the ball twice, and even if he hadn’t betrayed Hellhound, he certainly hadn’t helped him out of the unreasonably painful battles he’d been forced to fight up to this point, emotionally or physically. He was wanted by the enemy, wanted by their allies, and spit on by both, and his position between them all was precarious already; One wrong move, one more misstep, and would the worst not come? Would he not have failed yet another hero, another man, another person - Especially when given even a shred of information that may yet turn the tide for them? He didn’t have the option to stumble and fall here.

     He stood upright and straightened himself, swallowing thickly.

     If he could make use of what little remained of his wings to get to Shibuya, then he could potentially recruit Black Knight and Lightbringer. The way Crovita talked about the two made it seem as if they retained a promising amount of loyalty toward Hellhound, but what he knew of either one clashed with that implication; It didn’t have anything to do with him in specific, however, as both were incredibly distrustful on principle. Perhaps Nogitsune was to thank for that, but, as it were, he couldn’t afford not to try, even if Black Knight had denied him thus far. Lightbringer was loud and angrier than any of the former Foxfire members as far as he knew, but he was soft of heart in a similar fashion to Hellhound, so swaying him first might prove more fruitful than the latter hero. With him in tow, he’d have better luck convincing Black Knight to lend a hand, provided he delivered on a bit of quid-pro-quo himself.

     For now, that would have to be the plan.

     Hawks immediately vacated the hallway without giving the situation any further thought, keeping his steps even but quick so as not to arouse any suspicion from anyone else wandering the halls of this wing of Commission headquarters; He knew meeting Black Knight and Lightbringer and speaking with them directly would yield far better results than lingering outside the infirmary and making phone calls ever would, but he couldn’t afford to alert the Commission to his intentions in the meantime. If Crovita had hacked Commission security as he suspected, they would surely be on an elevated alert and behaving outside of expectation could result in forestalling and needless distractions.

     Time was short, and he still had Hellhound to consider. Ensuring medical staff would be in - and finding a way to convince them to visit the infirmary and monitor Hellhound; Bribery, perhaps? - was imperative; He needed to be certain he would awaken soon and that the worst of his injuries possibly weren’t as bad as he’d thought… Knowing better and hoping for the reverse could be forgiven, right? 

     Regardless, as he now stood before an elevator, eyeing the dully glowing button he’d pressed on approach, he knew his personal feelings were irrelevant. It was a hero’s duty to help those who needed it and where things stood now, with Hellhound incapacitated and the Commission ordering him to train to kill in the midst of a mission, threats looming over everyone’s heads they would follow through on, he hadn’t much confidence he’d be effective in his endeavor to do just that. He’d seen worse things, done maybe equally as horrible, and though he understood that change never came easy and there were simply going to be many circumstances where he could do nothing , he never could get used to it. But if he ever wanted to see an end to this seemingly endless cycle, he had to play the long game. Trouble is, he’s running out of time, and he’d begun to feel pressed, hurried. Wouldn’t anyone ? Even so, as much as he wanted to give himself even a little leeway, it wasn’t right for him to give himself any excuses. Harsh a conclusion though it may have been, he had principles and the will to maintain them through even the worst of circumstances - he’d better start acting like it.

     Hellhound wasn’t the only one who ought to be brave, hopeful. Even pretending to be could be helpful to weather what storms may come, and that would just have to be enough.

     As the elevator skidded along its track, quietly squealing and grinding, Hawks eyed the plain red numbers blinking between floors; It was altogether a short trip and, he thought, he may as well have taken the stairs. The infirmary was a small, contained area in the HQ building, appearing as just another office on the surface, hardly standing out from the others. He’d thought it was by design, as the methodology surrounding it had long been established as a pattern.

     The silvery doors of the elevator opened slowly; He waited until they were fully ajar  before slipping between them and out onto the next floor, intending to narrow down on the daily infirmary staffing and see who got stuck with the evening shift. As simple as that’d sounded, there were other locations within the building that provided some form of medical care and each had differing schedules, but none had been assigned to this wing for the last two days. Hopefully, someone would finally show up for a shift and the work week could begin. 

     With light, relaxed steps, he continued down a short series of hallways, a right followed by a left before a long bay of half-shaded windows with planters beset with faux flowers and elephant-ear ferns and plain wooden seating lining them in opposite to a small medical office. The glass door was frosted and set in mahogany-painted steel, framed by other windows - This part of the building faced the courtyard below; He could see it more clearly this time, all the littlest details more sharply defined, trees of varying species and carefully arranged flowerbeds dotting a neatly manicured lawn all arranged according to curving walkways and stairways, a medium-sized koi pond somewhere near the middle. It was almost pretty in its minimalist simplicity. A passing glance had been enough, however, and he veered toward the frosted glass door, effortlessly easing into the entryway and approaching the chart nearest the front desk. 

     He scanned the room, gaze accounting for all the usual things being in all the usual places but honing in on what disrupted that mundanity, a plain canvas tote bag with a black parka draped over it; A single All Might charm and deep blue puffball had been clipped to the bag’s straps just dangling off the counter of the front desk. Faintly, he heard the whirring and gurgling of an older model coffee pot - he was grateful for the quietude.

     Only a single person had been written into the schedule for this day, and he was grateful for that, too , though he was surprised to see whose name it was, shocked that fortune would be his for the taking, as apprehensive as he was.

     Sumoyo Furie had always been a medically focused agent, but he struck his claim within Commission ranks when he’d proven himself to them; Frequent recovery field missions before, during, and after both major and minor operations tended to do that. His skill set varied greatly, though he specialized in trauma care, orthopedics, and short-term physical therapy, but none of that is what made him great; He was a man of precious few words, his mouth practically sewn shut. The trivialities of human connection hadn’t seemed to ever interest him, and such was how he made his living, offering his silence and vaguely detailed medical prowess in trade for what appeared to satisfy his needs; A worthwhile business arrangement for him, it seemed. The Commission didn’t call upon him unless they aimed to maintain complete secrecy, so it was clear to him they’d known something was up, wanting to deal with Hellhound quickly and quietly. Furie wasn’t here to kill him, he knew that; That wasn’t his job anymore.

     Furia retired under the hero name Euphony years ago, just after All Might’s biggest battle with All For One, and hadn’t done any traditional or classified hero work since. Slipping into HQ for an evening shift as a nurse didn’t count. 

     Hawks peered around the corner down a short hall where a handful of patient rooms could be seen in direct opposition to another desk and series of break rooms and offices, archival, supply, biohazard storage and janitorial rooms, too. The coffee machine had still been gurgling, drops of water plipping to the bottom of the glass coffee pot. Furies was still busying himself with his coffee, but he no doubt knew Hawks had wandered in. If he had not come out to greet him, then perhaps he ought not bother him at all; He wouldn’t talk anyway, and Hawks could trust that Hellhound would have his wounds seen to appropriately. 

     They weren’t going to kill him, not when they’d invested so much time into him already. 

     Or, so he hoped.

     Maybe he should greet Furie, let him know someone had their eyes on the situation. Just in case, just in case . Just to satisfy the irrationality gnawing at his brain.

     Casually, he stepped away from the day’s schedule and swaggered down the hall to stand in the doorway of the small break room, his eyes quickly finding the slender, delicate, yet still uniquely masculine Furie with a pair of mugs set before him on the counter, both white. His wild snowy hair had grown since the last Hawks had seen him, strands of messy white dusting the spot between his sloping shoulders, uninterrupted by the strange, knitted material of his high-collar. He wore shades of dark and light purple amid black and white accents, all fabrics of varying textures and patterns; A pair of tactical harem pants outfitted with numerous pockets, strapping, and more, and a sleeveless, high-collared shirt to match, along with a pair of calf-high boots. The black jacket at the desk must’ve somehow brought his outfit together, but it was odd nonetheless, perhaps fitting Furie’s half-hearted stoicism. An eccentricity.

     There he stood, nursing the empty mugs. 

     “How’s it hangin’, Euphony? Never thought I’d see ya here again. How long’s it been, five years?” Hawks said with no small amount of suspicious friendliness - deliberate , of course - all the while tapping his knuckles against the doorframe.  

     A lone violet eye found him, acknowledging his presence, but not a word was spoken in turn.

     “Which one are you here for: Tarot, or Hellhound?” he pressed, his signature grin easing across his face. It didn’t touch his eyes.

     Furie chuckled to himself as the gurgling of the coffee machine suddenly morphed into loud sputtering before just as quickly falling silent, signaling the brew cycle had completed. Slender fingers slipped around the pot’s handle and he carefully poured its contents into each mug sitting on the counter, leaving the rest for later. Beside the coffee machine was a bowl filled with sugar packets - both real and artificial - and stir sticks all haphazardly thrown together, and with minimal effort had he stolen two of each, tearing open and emptying the packets into one of the mugs and stirring. 

     He looped both hands around one of the mugs, crossing his fingers, and brought it to his lips in one long, intentionally slow movement, breathing in the steamy waft of roasted coffee and sugar blending together. He sipped tentatively, cautiously, and turned to face Hawks in full, leaning against the counter.

     It was disconcerting, unnerving even, how delicately poised he’d been - his posture curved and lazy yet somehow elegant all the same - and how pretty. White lashes hung heavily over a pair of hazy violet, long and fluttering, somehow accentuating the statuesque, alabaster qualities of his skin, unblemished and fair. He was well-kept and clearly took pride in his appearance, wielding it as a weapon at the best and worst of times; Hawks shuddered to think how effective it may have been when paired with his quirk, a soothing lullaby to put one to sleep and a dreamy visage to hammer in the final nail. 

     “Nogitsune,” he said, his voice a smooth, low-toned offering of appeasement, no more and certainly no less. A meager smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he took another sip from his mug, eyeing Hawks with a vague knowing and amusement lurking in his violet gaze.

     “Tarot, then,” Hawks replied flatly, a hand raising to cup the nape of his neck, his grin twisting awkwardly. It hadn’t meant anything. 

     If Furie was looking for Nogitsune, however, then Hawks had failed to pick up on a detail or two. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but how much further could the plot thicken anyway? How much was Nogitsune actually involved in and why was the retired Euphony attempting to hunt him down, parading as an evening nurse? Was he there to convince him to do something? It seemed pointless; Nogitsune was stubborn and arrogant enough that nothing really worked, not even being part and parcel to the near-torture of his dearest friend, so what was the point here? Sure, the Commission played a definitive part in this, but it was the specifics that muddled things all the more.

     “No,” Furie muttered sweetly, his smile brightening around the lip of his mug as he took yet another, now careful, sip.

     “You’re not gonna tell me anything, are you? A’right, a’right, that’s fine, but do me a favor anyway, wouldja?” He had to keep things moving, even if he wasn’t sure he could rightly trust Furie’s placement here nor the utter lack of information however expected. “Check up on Hellhound when you’re done with Nogitsune. Tarot, too. Both of ‘em are in rough shape, but with your skill set, they’ll get off on a better foot.”

      Even bastards like him deserve their second chances.

     “Relax.”

     He narrowed his eyes, gold clashing with violet.

     “He’s got a concussion and will remain unconscious unless something can be done about it,” he retorted, ironing out his grin and emphasizing, playfully, with his free hand. “Can’t leave him, or even Tarot, to bedrest when we’ve all got work to do, yanno?”

     Furie’s smile steadily shifted downward into a flat line, but he said nothing more, not that he’d really said anything to begin with.

     Hawks rolled his shoulders, palms upturned in a combination of mock ignorance and surrender, his grin unwavering. Silence stretched between them for a time, but before long, he turned on his heel and shrugged once more, flexing his diminutive wings. “Just do whatcha can, yeah? Anyway, I’m outta here. If anything happens, let the Director know–”

     “Hawks.”

     He turned his head, hoping Furie might have something more substantial to add. “Huh?”

     “He’ll be fine,” the former hero begrudgingly muttered, an uneven lilt to his words. He almost, almost sounded like Crovita and Hawks had to wonder if they, too, had spoken - if he'd meant it.

     “S’all I’m asking for,” and he abandoned Furie altogether, making a hasty escape from the doorway, intent upon disappearing before anything more could be said. 

     With his mission accomplished, he could focus on pursuing the leads Crovita had graciously afforded him, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shed the worry pricking at his heart. Furie’s appearance at HQ was suspicious at best and provided sustenance for an ill-defined sense of foreboding at worst, considering his prior line of work, but Hawks had to find some miniscule shred of hope that the circumstances wouldn’t worsen in his absence. For as many questions as had arisen, fewer answers could be given, but he didn’t have time to dwell on any of it; At least one thing remained true: that there wouldn’t have been any point in conscripting Hellhound as Nogitsune’s penance if Furie had come to kill him. As a possibility, he wrote it off, crossed it off the list, and wondered if he was meant to apply pressure instead. For what, he didn’t know, but if Nogitsune was his admitted target, then his intentions lied elsewhere indeed. Nogitsune could’ve been keeping something secret, as he always was, but how could something so ordinary call for Furie’s interference? Did they know each other on some level, or had the Commission suspected Nogitsune’s resistance to forward, helpful action a direct failure to follow orders? Was his life to be cut even shorter than before, or were they trying to avoid any further complications? What was happening here?

     Hawks left the medical offices quickly, once more maintaining a swift but altogether normal gait for himself, deciding it best to temporarily set his thoughts aside. Whatever the case, he had to move on and affix his attention to the tasks at hand, reluctant though he may have been. Continuing on his path to the elevator, he paid no mind to the few agents now wandering the halls, only half-heartedly greeting them as he went.

     Hellhound would be fine, right? But, Nogitsune–

     He pursed his lips.

      Right. 

     Lightbringer and Black Knight come first, now. I gotta get to them sooner rather than later… I think my wings will get me to Shibuya, but the return trip’ll be a different story. Worst case, I can request a ride, give Jeanist a call. We are friends, after all. He’ll understand, provided he doesn’t have his hands full with any villains - or interns.

     He stepped into the nearest elevator, the one he’d arrived on, and pressed the button that would take him to the ground level, finding a small amount of comfort in having something, anything, planned out. Leaving Hellhound’s side for the hundredth time wasn’t what he’d wanted, but in the interest of keeping him safe for the time being and progressing in the case against Kioku Nusumi, he had to. Prisma couldn’t be allowed to put his plans into action, whatever they may be, and if Hellhound was to oversee this case with Hawks as his so-called babysitter, then Hawks had to get his ass in gear. 

     To help, to lend his expertise and strength to the cause… To keep another hero, man, person alive, to put a villain away and give them the second chance they so sorely needed with the promise of time served– To deliver on promises made, to hold true to his principles as a hero and aid others in their work, hold true to their own principles– Now was the time. 

      Now was the time.

     Hellhound would survive another few hours without him.

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

「YANDERE VILLIAN × FEM! READER」

A/N: This is for the girlies, sorry to the other pooks. This one is a bit intense. In emotional sense. Technically this guy is an bnha oc of mine saur..

【DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT🕊】

TW: Degrading, misogyny, non-con, implied long time non-con, betrayal from friend, two-faced mf, etc.

You couldn't take it anymore. The constant violation, the relentless manipulation—it was all too much. You had to expose Jun, had to make someone believe you. So, you went to your friend, your confidante, and poured out your heart. You told her everything: the way Jun would use his Quirk on you, how he would force himself on you, and the way he would leave you feeling empty and used.

As you cried, she listened, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. When you finished, she promised to help you. You clung to that promise, desperate for someone to be on your side.

The next time Jun and your friend met, he noticed the tension between you two. He could see the disdain in her eyes, and he knew he had to act fast. With a smile on his face, he pulled her aside, his voice low and soothing. "Hey, I've heard you've been talking to my girlfriend," he said, feigning concern. "I'm worried she's got the wrong impression. She's just jealous, you know how women can be."

Your friend, believing his side of the story, turned on you. She confronted you, accusing you of lying and causing trouble. Betrayed and heartbroken, you were left with no one to turn to.

Unbeknownst to you, Jun had been using his Quirk on her, subtly influencing her thoughts and emotions, making her doubt your story. He enjoyed the power he held over her, and it only fueled his desire to control and dominate.

One day, when you were alone with Jun, he decided you needed a 'reminder' of your place. He forced you into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind you. His eyes were filled with a mix of anger and desire, and you knew there was no escaping what was to come.

He began by mocking you, calling you ungrateful and saying how much you enjoyed his advances. "You're always so tight, like you want it," he sneered. You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a rough kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands roamed your body.

Jun then used his Quirk on you, sending shivers down your spine and making your body betray you. "Looks like your body can't help itself, huh?" he teased, as your nipples hardened and your pussy grew wet with desire. He tore off your clothes, leaving you completely naked before him.

"You're such a tight little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. He bent you over a desk, your hands pressed against the cold surface as he positioned himself behind you.

He thrust into you without warning, his thick cock stretching you wide open. You cried out in pain, but he didn't care. "Shut up, you love it," he snapped, as he began to pump in and out of you, his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

"You were made for this," he snarled, slapping your ass. You felt humiliated and violated, his cock filling you up, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room.

He forced you to look at the sight of his cock entering you, your face contorting in pain. Jun's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he fucked you harder and faster, his cock sliding in and out of your tight hole.

He was relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building up inside you, even though you desperately wished it wouldn't. Jun leaned down, his hot breath against your ear as he whispered, "Cum for me, [Name]."

You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back, but it was no use. Jun's words, combined with the intense pleasure he was inflicting, sent you over the edge. You cried out as an orgasm ripped through your body, your pussy clenching around his cock.

This only served to push Jun over the edge as well. He groaned loudly, his cock pulsating inside you as he came, filling you with his hot seed. He pulled out, leaving you on the desk, your body shaking, and your mind reeling from the violation.

Jun stood over you, his cock glistening with your fluids, before licking his lips. He leaned down and trailed his tongue along your cheek, smirking as he said, "Remember who you belong to, hm?"

[nightfall-kachiniko]

Dear God, keigos cologne.

If you think cologne isn’t the sexiest part of a man, you’re wrong.

When they’re wearing that expensive fancy scent it makes you go nuts.

The moments when he pulls you into a loving hug, his Amber musk scent never fails to make your knees weak.

When you put on one of his hoodies and it smells like him, it serves as a constant reminder that your his and his only.

When you lay in his bed, his bedsheets smell just like him, wishing he could come home faster.

[fatkish]

I can’t get this idea out of my head so I’m gonna share it and feel free to use it. We know that Heteromorphs (people with mutant quirks) can have a very diverse appearance and abilities. Well my idea is kinda NSFW-ish, so here it is: a living armor quirk. Basically the character has a shapeshifting and transformation ability that allows them to become a living bodysuit that can protect whoever wears them. For example: if someone was wearing them, the wearer could ask the character to grow wings so they can fly. Since the character would have to be touching the skin of whoever is wearing them it can get kinda steamy.

The character is basically made up of microscopic wires and strings that weave together to make up their body. These wires can be bulletproof, fireproof and other proofs but it would depend on how healthy they are in mind, body and spirit. If they’re sick for instance, they won’t be able to hold themselves together enough to protect the wearer. The character can control each individual microscopic wire and re-weave them around the wearer’s body. The reader would of course need to eat and drink just like anybody else but their body is evolved to digest quickly and turn excess food and nutrients into energy. (So basically they don’t need to shit as much, since any excess materials they consume are quickly broken down and stored as fat or excess wire for when they take on damage and need to repair themselves)

The NSFW part and the part i can’t stop thinking about is how heroes who have the character as a sidekick would more than likely wear the character as opposed to their hero suits.

Imagine Aizawa learns about this character and decides that having them transform into a suit for him would be time saving and more practical. This would mean that Aizawa would only wear the absolute bare necessities since the character only has so much wire to work with. This also means that the character can feel every part of the wearer’s body. Which means the character can feel Aizawa’s dick and has to wrap themselves around it to support it. Now Aizawa could wear his regular suit over the character and just use them as an added layer of protection.

Or Endeavor hears about this character and decides that they would be perfect for him. We all have seen how big he is in height and musculature. This would mean the character has more space to cover making the suit thinner compared to someone like Aizawa. Now since the character has the ability to be fireproof Endeavor’s flames won’t hurt them but they can get really hot. (Imagine if endeavor had the character become a jockstrap or cup like article to help hide his bulge)

Or how about Dabi? What if he had the character act as a second layer of skin? Overtime the character would be able to build up a resistance to Dabi’s flames kind of like exposure therapy. Now Dabi basically wears them all the time since they help keep him from burning his skin.

And what about Edgeshot? With his quirk the reader would be the perfect sidekick (or should I say sidestick) literally, because the reader would be worn by him and literally be as his side.

Basically I’m a horny mess and I just want hot dudes to use me

[unforgivenntired2]

SHACKLED HEARTS

Yandere!Bakugoxreader

Next

The dim light of the moon filtered through the barred window, casting eerie shadows across the cold, damp room. You sat in the corner, knees drawn to your chest, the weight of your chains heavy on your wrists and ankles. It had been days—maybe even weeks—since Bakugo had taken you from the outside world, but the fear and confusion still gnawed at your mind.

Bakugo paced in front of you, his intense crimson eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and possessive desire. His fiery temperament was barely contained, simmering just beneath the surface. You had seen glimpses of his softer side before, but now, all you saw was the monster he had become.

"Why don't you understand?" Bakugo's voice was a harsh whisper, filled with desperation. "I did this for us! For you!"

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to comprehend his twisted logic. "This isn't love, Katsuki. This is madness!! P-Please, j-just... just let me go."

Bakugo's expression hardened, and he knelt in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly to force you to look at him. "You think you know what's best for you? You don't! You belong to me. No one else can protect you like I can."

His grip was painful, but the raw emotion in his eyes sent chills down your spine. You could see the conflict within him, the battle between his obsessive love and the remnants of his humanity. But right now, the darkness was winning.

"You don't need anyone else," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "I'll make sure of it. I'll keep you safe from everyone who tries to take you away."

Your sobs grew louder, your body shaking with the weight of your despair. "This isn't what I wanted, Katsuki. I wanted a future with you, but not like this. Not in chains."

Bakugo's eyes softened for a moment, and he released your chin, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He looked torn, as if a part of him wanted to reach out and comfort you, but his obsession wouldn't let him. "I know you're scared," he said quietly, almost to himself. "But you'll see. You'll understand eventually. I just need you to trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've taken everything from me?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bakugo's face twisted with pain, and he slammed his fist against the wall, causing you to flinch. "Damn it, why can't you see?! I'm doing this because I love you!! I can't lose you!"

The raw intensity in his words made your heart ache. Despite the terror and the chains, a part of you still remembered the boy who had once been your friend, your confidant, your love. But now, he was a stranger—one who had crossed the line into madness.

"Please, Katsuki," you begged, your voice breaking. "Don't do this. Let me go. W-We can find another way."

His eyes bore into yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of doubt. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the unyielding resolve of a man who had convinced himself that his actions were justified.

"No," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're mine, and I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever. I can't let it happen again."

As he turned away, your heart sank, and the full weight of your situation crashed over you. You were trapped in a nightmare of his making, a twisted reflection of love that held you captive.

Bakugo walked to the door, pausing for a moment before looking back at you. "Get some rest," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll bring you something to eat later."

With that, he left the room, the heavy door closing behind him with a resounding thud. You were alone once more, your tears falling freely as the reality of your captivity settled over you. There was no escape, no way out.

You could only hope that one day, the boy you loved would find his way back to the light, and release you from the darkness that now bound your hearts together.

[blinkyblinding]

Izuku Headcannons

—————————————————————————

boyfriend!izuku x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: just a lot of loving actions if u think of anything lemme know

—————————————————————————

i think izuku with a significant other would be so cute. at first he would be shy, of course. however, i think once sometime has passed and you both have navigated each-others boundaries… he’s so dotting.

he always thought you were cute and sweet. thats how he saw you. now that he feel comfortable to express it? oh boy, does he express it.

expect the most obvious loving glances. theyre almost teasing in a sense like his eyes are saying “i love you and i KNOW you love me too and i’m probably annoying you right now but that doesn’t matter because you love it”.

just like that.

always wants to get you things. he just does.

you like sweets? he has to fight the urge to get you everything he sees.

you like spicy food? same thing.

especially when you guys get into an argument or just take some space. he fights every thought in his head about getting you something.

he caves.

he got it and now he’s giving it to you, despite your protests about him buying you things.

he loves how content you look. its actually his favorite thing in the world. makes him so warm to watch you be content. even if its not obvious that you are happy, he knows. he always knows.

i also head canon cute aggression. he just gets so much energy when your happy, content, relaxed around him. he just doesn’t nt know what to do with himself but he cant help but want to make you happier.

the cycle repeats.

[i-cant-sing]

My OCs pt 2

TIME TRAVELLER AU:

Original idea

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

What if Baldwin gets sick while reader isnt there?

Reader introducing medieval times to soap

Baldwin reacting to reader not wanting to have babies

Baldwin being a green flag (and Salauddin being disgusted)

Baldwin when reader goes into labour

Reader is mad at Baldwin

Moodboard for part 6

Moodboard for part 7

Moodboard for part 8

Moodboard for part 9

Moodboard for part 11

Moodboard for part 12

The difference between Salauddin and Baldwin's love for you

Modern day Salauddin and Baldwin

Salauddin's reaction to reader adopting all the animals she sees

Salauddin with your portrait

Baldwin's reaction after part 7

Memes for part 8

What does Qasim look like?

What does Baris look like?

Qasim and reader childhood shenanigans

What does Mr Blackwood look like?

[ograceo]

I hate it when people draw oversexualized versions of characters. They always give the characters massive boobs and butts and tiny waist and make them into femme fatales or manic pixie dreams girls or some other version of a male gaze character. I feel like I never see characters or ocs that have normal bodies. Except for the female lead from Operation True Love but a lot of people hate her character beacuse she is plain looking and Tohru honda her too. They dont like normal female characters that they cant jack off too. Its crazy!

[ishzuprincess]

The baby boy✨😭💖 I love him sm✨

(Pls follow meh🙏😔)

[featherburnt]

➟ Absolution

Type: Drabble Pairing: Hawks x m!OC Word Count: 1,165 Tags: Ambiguous but direct memory alteration, distress, this is a form of torture

Summary: Doomed to forget, at the hands of so vengeful a spirit. (This was originally an unused draft for a later chapter in the greater Bloodfeather fic, but I've since decided to post it as a drabble of sorts. It's incomplete, but it felt like a good idea to throw it down anyway, so here it is.)

As always, minors do not interact.

     "Oh, no, my sweet dog. Everything will be alright indeed." 

     Her voice ripped through Saryn's brain, like fingernails scraping, scratching, burning, digging into still-bleeding wounds- and it hurt. Oh, it hurt and it hurt and it hurt. He could feel the sound waves dancing along and severing his synapses, scissors slicing through flimsy little strings, and try as he might to scream, clap his hands over his ears and fight to get away,  flee, he was frozen to the spot, sweat oozing from his pores as raw, untenable fear shot through him. His senses were muted, cut off, until all he knew was the echo of feminine vocal chords and the hazy darkness of his mind.

     He could feel nothing else. Only  her, an intruder among what he treasured most, what he loved and admired, and she was poisoning it all with a mere whisper, a simple touch. 

     "You will forget about them. You will forget what made you. You will be undone and I will have absolution."

     One by one did his memories begin to fade into jumbled obscurity, morphed by the mocking lilt in her voice and the drag of her fingers through his hair into something twisted and alien, something foul and  wrong. Darkness cloaked him and he couldn't move through it, couldn't push, pull, lift, or nudge, and the vision of his mother's face burning at the edges of his periphery had been snuffed, only the faintest memory of her shrieks left in her wake. He tried to reach for her, tried to grab hold of her before he was robbed of her again, but to no avail - He was isolated, completely, from the delusion that'd kept him so stubbornly clinging to life at every turn, smothered in unending blackness, forced to watch as his memories were stolen away from him one by one and without mercy nor recompense.

     Nogitsune burst into his mind, hissing and snarling like a crazed animal, and he knew this. He'd seen that stupid fox dive fully into feral instinct and use it to his advantage when he could be assed to do his job. He'd seen it more than once, seen the fox hurl his Foxfire and Possess even the worst of villains and such had been one of those memories, where even the pitter-pattering of the rain could not drown out his flames nor what little strength he had. They were cornered by Bat Wing some years ago, and Ripper, too, with their backs pressed firm against brick and mortar smeared with blood-- Nogitsune saved not just a few thousand innocents that day, but Saryn himself, and while Bat Wing had gotten away, Ripper was broken and mangled, still alive and to be taken to Tartarus.

     And just as quickly, he'd forgotten that, too. Little things, big things, all that'd carefully constructed the stubborn monster of a hero he'd become - all of it, no matter how inconsequential it'd seemed, taken.

     "It almost pains me to do this to you, Kaede. You were going to be his greatest achievement. You were so strong, so dutiful, and so angry." She ran her fingers across his scalp with a peculiar gentleness that could've only belonged to a doting mother, sweeping flyaway hairs from his clammy forehead so as to soothe the panic overtaking him now. 

     His breaths came in desperate, drooling huffs and the more she touched him, the longer she kept her hands in such proximity to his brain, the more he realized she was siphoning away. He saw it all from beginning to end, from the first time he'd ever seen All Might on television as a child to these very moments, and he experienced his short lifetime of uninterrupted suffering with each death of each memory, sobbing in the gloom at Utako's feet, anchored immovably to floor by faintly rattling chains. He wanted to fight against her, to raise his fists and set ablaze a woman who'd no need nor love for the treasures he so ardently protected despite his viciousness, but he was losing this battle and he knew, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that he would not topple the tendrils buzzing about his mind. He was defeated the moment she got her hands on him.

     "You were the key. Your rage would have fanned the flames of pettier battles, but it would've brought on the war others are now waging in your stead." Soft whispers in his ear, as she sifted through his secrets, what he'd buried deep and kept hidden from every friend he thought he'd had. First times, first loves, orange hair, calloused hands, vermillion feathers, goldenrod, gliding through a moonlit sky-- She dug and dug and stripped the meat from his bones, but one, one thing came to mind as if she'd known all along where to look for it.

     A fur-lined yellow jacket and spare evenings spent beneath it, shared fleeting glances to those that yet lingered and the oppressive yearning that came with it, a hand to hold on sleepless nights and lips to that fluttered against his skin with honest uncertainty--

     "How sad, that so great a man could be so easily destroyed."

     She paused, of course, fiddling with his memories of Hawks, and he couldn't tell if she was intrigued or merely attempting to prolong the inevitable.

     "If only you'd listened to Tsubasa."

     "Please…" he croaked painfully, giving in to the ugliest aspect of himself: that which was utterly and completely without hope. "Please don't… take him from me."

     "Now, now,  pup  : Did you think this would be easy? Did you think I would let you keep your peace after you took Prisma from me?"

     "Please, please, please," he begged, whimpering to himself. The pet name slipping from her tongue was hotter than any flame and it made him nauseous, heat bubbling in his gut as if he'd any tender sparks of his quirk remained. But he was tired, spent after having lost such vital aspects of himself. He couldn't remember, now, what motivated him to continue living, to continue pursuing the purpose herodom had afforded him in the aftermath of-- But what was it? She'd stolen it all away from him and without it, without his pain and truest sorrows, he was nothing; A man reduced to a shadow, a husk with nigh a personality, formless, shapeless, and of ill consequence. How could he be certain of himself now when there was nothing left? "Please, please, please…"

     "Shhh, it will be over soon."

     "Please, p-please." His voice shuddered and shook, trailing off into incoherent and terrified babbling as he watched vermillion feathers disappear into the grim and tumultuous smog of his emptied mind. 

     He would remember nothing and no one and though his mouth was open, lips raw and sore from the shock of the sudden and violent unknown, there would be no flame to erupt from his maw and there would be no pretty birds to guide him back to the light.

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

||Yandere!Bnha Oc x gn reader||

▪︎Yikes, well NSFW so please MDNI or I'll personally put you down 🔫

TW: NSFW, Suggestive themes, Noncon(?), Him fucking you in your sleep-, Groping, public ehem indecency, dark themes, Violence, breeding, Top character, Bottom reader, etc-

Jun, our villian of the day. His Quirk requires skin to skin contact and it lead to him pounding into you. You can say he is a human aphrodisiac with just a single touch.

If his touch affects you a lot, imagine his bodily fluid- it amps it up and makes you dizzy and needy.

He loves using this on you whenever he is in the mood or you keep trying to escape. Once you are near the front door turning the knob, he is already putting his hands in your pants and kissing up your neck whispering, "Hah..Do I need to teach you that you can't live without me and my cock, hm?"

Believe it or not, he doesn't even use his Quirk on anyone else except you because he hates touching someone else Nevertheless fucking them. He just does a simple bullet to the head for fun. They don't even need to do anything, they can just exist and he will shoot them.

Let's talk about when he first met you, he was simply strolling around the city looking for someone to torture until he saw you..The oh so..innocent you. He can smell that you haven't slept with anyone yet. From then on, he trailed after you and left Cum stained used underwear of yours.. presents in your room! How sweet~

He especially love when you are defenseless during your sleep! He likes laying right behind you and..touching you. Ngh, God you are so soft..

He tends to rub his cock in between your thighs after taking off your underwear and pants! He teases your entrance with his tip a lot..He won't put it in though!

Oh what's this? It seems he is already inside you..Don't worry he won't cum ins-oh dear..He accidentally filled you up. Your belly looks so delicious marked up with his cum.

Despite already getting filled up, he continues to rut inside you while whispering dirty things to your sleeping self. It's surprising how you slept through all that!

The fact that he would not clean you up and even have the audacity to shove something inside your hole so it doesn't drip out. He can't wait to see your reaction.

If somehow you woke up during it, he will make sure you are screaming his name by the end of it. He will try to knock you up even if you can't have a kid. "Fuck baby..You're going to be a good parent for my kid, mhm yeah? Yeah you will.."

Oh you don't want it? Well too bad, he will just have to tie you up during it..

He will even do this in public. Let it be in front of everyone or in an alleyway. Which one would you pick?

Jun would make sure everyone knows you are his whether you are walking out the bathroom stall with his cum dripping down your legs or neck filled with bites and marks.

Oh but putting all those aside! At least he is loyal?